not left the saucepan for two minutes when the milk
boiled over, and it was all burnt and smoked as before. "The pan must be
dirty," cried the house-wife in a rage; "and there are two full quarts
of milk as good as thrown to the dogs." "_And that's fourpence_," said
the voice in the chimney.

After a long scrubbing the saucepan was once more filled and set on the
fire, but it was not the least use, the milk was burnt and smoked again,
and the house-wife burst into tears at the waste, crying out, "Never
before did such a thing happen to me since I kept house! Three quarts of
milk burnt for one meal!" "_And that's sixpence,_" cried the voice from
the chimney. "You didn't save the tinker after all," with which the
hill-man himself came tumbling down the chimney, and went off laughing
through the door. But from that time the saucepan was as good as any
other.

JULIANA HORATIA EWING.

The Giant Walker

Now, all the night around their echoing camp
Was heard continuous from the hills a sound as of the tramp
Of giant footsteps; but, so thick the white mist lay around,
None saw the Walker, save the King. He, starting at the sound,
Called to his foot his fierce red hound; athwart his shoulders cast
A shaggy mantle, grasped his spear, and through the moonlight passed
Alone up dark Ben-Boli's heights, towards which, above the woods,
With sound as when at close of eve the noise of falling floods
Is borne to shepherd's ear remote on stilly upland lawn,
The steps along the mountain-side with hollow fall came on.
Fast beat the hero's heart; and close down-crouching by his knee
Trembled the hound, while, through the haze, huge as through mists at
sea,
The week-long sleepless mariner descries some mountain cape,
Wreck-infamous, rise on his lee, appeared a monstrous Shape,
Striding impatient, like a man much grieved, who walks alone,
Considering of a cruel wrong; down from his shoulders thrown
A mantle, skirted stiff with soil splashed from the miry ground,
At every stride against his calves struck with as loud rebound
As makes the main-sail of a ship brought up along the blast,
When with the coil of all its ropes it beats the sounding mast.
So, striding vast, the giant passed; the King held fast his breath--
Motionless, save his throbbing heart; and chill and still as death
Stood listening while, a second time, the giant took the round
Of all the camp; but, when at leng