arn when he grew old.

"Ah, Ben," said his mother, and dropped a tear,
"You'll be sorry for this, by-and-by"
Says Ben, "To me that's not very clear,
But at any rate I'll try."

So idle Ben, he refused to learn,
Thinking that he could wait;
But when he had his living to earn,
He found it was just too late.

Little girls, little boys, don't delay your work,
Some day you'll be women and men.
Whenever your task you're inclined to shirk,
Take warning by idle Ben.

THE HOLE IN THE CANNA-BED

BY ISABEL GORDON CURTIS

One evening in May, Chuckie Wuckie's papa finished setting out the
plants in the front yard. Into one large bed he put a dozen fine cannas.
They looked like fresh young shoots of corn. He told Chuckie Wuckie that
when summer came they would grow tall, with great spreading leaves and
beautiful red-and-yellow blossoms.

"Taller than me, papa?" asked the little girl, trying to imagine what
they would look like.

"Much taller; as tall as I am."

Chuckie Wuckie listened gravely while papa told her she must be very
careful about the canna-bed. She must not throw her ball into it, or dig
there, or set a foot in the black, smooth earth. She nodded her head
solemnly, and made a faithful promise. Then she gathered up her tiny
rake and hoe and spade, and carried them to the vine-covered shed to put
beside her father's tools.

Next morning, when papa went to look at the canna-bed, he discovered
close beside one of the largest plants a snug, round hole. It looked
like a little nest. He found Chuckie Wuckie digging with an iron spoon
in the ground beside the fence.

[Illustration: "PAPA TOLD HER SHE MUST BE VERY CAREFUL ABOUT THE
CANNA-BED."]

"Dearie," he said, "do you remember I told you, last night, that you
must not dig in the canna-bed?"

"Yes," said the little girl.

"Come and see the hole I found there."

So Chuckie Wuckie trotted along at her father's heels. She stood
watching him as he filled in the hole and smoothed down the earth.

"I did not dig it," said Chuckie Wuckie. "I just came and looked to see
if the canna had grown any through the night, but I did not dig it."

"Really?" asked her papa, very gravely.

"Really and truly, I did not put my foot on there," said Chuckie Wuckie.

Papa did not say another word. But he could not help thinking that the
hole looked as if the iron spoon had neatly scooped it out.