rt of aldermen, the sheriffs, and a great number of the
richest merchants in London, to whom they afterward gave a very rich
feast.

History tells us that Mr. Whittington and his lady lived in great
splendor, and were very happy. They had several children. He was Sheriff
of London, also Mayor, and received the honor of knighthood by Henry V.

The figure of Sir Richard Whittington with his cat in his arms, carved
in stone, was to be seen till the year 1780 over the archway of the old
prison of Newgate, that stood across Newgate Street.

[Illustration]

WILD ROBIN

_A Scotch Fairy Tale_

RETOLD BY SOPHIE MAY

In the green valley of the Yarrow, near the castle-keep of Norham, dwelt
an honest little family, whose only grief was an unhappy son, named
Robin.

Janet, with jimp form, bonnie eyes, and cherry cheeks, was the best of
daughters; the boys, Sandie and Davie, were swift-footed, brave, kind,
and obedient; but Robin, the youngest, had a stormy temper, and when his
will was crossed he became as reckless as a reeling hurricane. Once, in
a passion, he drove two of his father's "kye," or cattle, down a steep
hill to their death. He seemed not to care for home or kindred, and
often pierced the tender heart of his mother with sharp words. When she
came at night, and "happed" the bed-clothes carefully about his form,
and then stooped to kiss his nut-brown cheeks, he turned away with a
frown, muttering: "Mither, let me be."

It was a sad case with Wild Robin, who seemed to have neither love nor
conscience.

"My heart is sair," sighed his mother, "wi' greeting over sich a son."

"He hates our auld cottage and our muckle wark," said the poor father.
"Ah, weel! I could a'maist wish the fairies had him for a season, to
teach him better manners."

This the gudeman said heedlessly, little knowing there was any danger of
Robin's being carried away to Elf-land. Whether the fairies were at that
instant listening under the eaves, will never be known; but it chanced,
one day, that Wild Robin was sent across the moors to fetch the kye.

"I'll rin away," thought the boy; "'t is hard indeed if ilka day a great
lad like me must mind the kye. I'll gae aff; and they'll think me dead."

So he gaed, and he gaed, over round swelling hills, over old
battle-fields, past the roofless ruins of houses whose walls were
crowned with tall climbing grasses, till he came to a crystal sheet of
water called St. Mary's Loch. Here he