iumphant jerk, the small sailmaker lost his balance, tumbled over,
and lay staring up at the tall man with his blue eyes so wide open, they
looked as if they would never shut again. All of a sudden, he shouted,
with a joyful shout, 'Daddy's tummin'!' and the next instant, vanished,
ship and all, in the arms of the man who wore the rough jacket. Over
went the spinning-wheel, as Hetty vanished likewise; and for a time
there was nothing but sobbing and kissing, clinging, and thanking Heaven
for its kindness to them. When they grew quieter, and Ben got into his
old chair, with his wife on one knee and his boy on the other, he told
them how he was wrecked in the gale, picked up by an outward-bound ship,
and only able to get back after months of sickness and delay.

'My boaty fetched him,' said Dandelion, feeling that every thing had
turned out just as he expected.

'So it did, my precious; leastways, your faith helped, I haven't a
doubt,' cried Hetty, hugging the curly headed prophet close, as she told
Ben all that had happened.

Ben didn't say much, but a few great tears rolled down the rough blue
jacket, as he looked from the queer sail with its two big stitches to
the little son, whose love, he firmly believed, had kept him safe
through many dangers and brought him home at last.

When the fine new boat was built, no one thought it strange that Ben
named it 'Dandelion;' no one laughed at the little sail which always
hung over the fire-place in the small house: and long years after, when
Ben was an old man, and sat by the door with his grand-children on his
knee, the story which always pleased them best was that which ended with
the funny words, 'Daddy tummin' soon.'

_MADAM CLUCK AND HER FAMILY._

There never was a prouder mamma than Madam Cluck when she led forth her
family of eight downy little chicks. Chanticleer, Strut, Snowball,
Speckle, Peep, Peck, Downy, and Blot were their names; and no sooner
were they out of the shell than they began to chirp and scratch as gaily
as if the big world in which they suddenly found themselves was made for
their especial benefit. It was a fine brood; but poor Madam Cluck had
bad luck with her chicks, for they were her first, and she didn't know
how to manage them. Old Aunt Cockletop told her that she didn't, and
predicted that 'those poor dears would come to bad ends.'

Aunt Cockletop was right, as you will see, when I have told the sad
history of this unfortunate famil