ia. They opened it: and there were two beautiful French
dolls, and two nice large dolls' trunks filled with dolls' dresses and
bonnets,--dresses for morning and evening, for opera and ball-room, for
the street and the parlor, for riding and walking.

The present was from Mr. Walldorf; and with it came a letter from him
thanking the little girls for their kindness to his good dog, Spot, and
promising to bring Spot to see them the next time he visited Boston.

UNCLE CHARLES.

[Illustration: On A High Horse]

ON A HIGH HORSE.

On a velocipede
Harry would ride:
Quickly the splendid steed
Set him astride.

Now for a jolly time!
Now for some sport!
Hold on!--the little chap's
Legs are too short.

Harry can't touch the peg,
All he can do;
Though he may stretch his leg
Out of his shoe!

What can we do for him?
This much, of course:
Let down the rider--or
Let down the horse.

Many a hobby-horse
Small boys must ride,
Ere such a steed as this
They can bestride

So, little Harry dear,
Don't look so cross
When you are taken down
From a high horse.

JOSEPHINE POLLARD.

CELEBRATING GRANDMOTHER'S BIRTHDAY.

There were three little sisters and one little brother; and their names
were Emma, Ruth, Linda, and John. And these children had a grandmother,
whose seventieth birthday was near at hand.

"What shall we do to celebrate our dear grandmother's birthday?" asked
Emma, the eldest.

"Get some crackers and torpedoes, and fire them off," said Johnny.

"Oh, that will never do!" cried Linda. "Let us give her a serenade."

"But we none of us sing well enough," said Ruth; "and grandmother, you
know, is a very good musician. Let us do this: Let us come to her as the
'Four Seasons,' and each one salute her with a verse."

"Yes: that's a very pretty idea," cried Linda. "And I'll be Spring; for
they say my eyes are blue as violets."

"Then I'll be Summer," cried Emma. "I like summer best."

"I'll be Autumn," said Johnny; "for, if there's any thing I like, it is
grapes. Peaches, too, are not bad; and what fun it is to go a-nutting!"

"There's but one season left for me," said Ruth. "I must be Winter. No
matter! Winter has its joys as well as the rest."

"But who'll write the verses for us?" asked Emma. "There must be a verse
for every season."

"Oh, the teacher will write th