gain and fell among all the unfeeling stones and pebbles.

Will ran all the way home and went straight to the barn and harnessed
the horse, and then went into the house and into the sitting-room and
snatched a shawl from the lounge, and--"Jerusalem Crickets!" was all he
had breath enough left to say. Tot had surprised somebody, indeed.

Down by the river, in the dusk and the river damp, as they waited, came
Will, striding along with what looked like a bundle of old shawls upon
his shoulder; and presently, parting the folds like the calyx of a
flower, Tot's rosy face blossomed out.

"Peekabo!" she said, with a sweet sound of laughter. "O mamma, mamma!"

It was wonderful how quickly mamma recovered; and it was more wonderful
still how ever Tot escaped sudden death, then and there, from
suffocation. But, bless you! You need not worry, it was larks to Tot.

What a triumphal procession home it was. Tot, in her little night-dress
sat in her mother's lap, and told her adventures; and Will sat in the
darkest corner and said not a word, but resolved that no story more
fabulous than that of George Washington and his hatchet should ever
again pass his lips. His lip quivered, as much as a boy's lip is ever
allowed, when Tot said:

"And I brought home a whole pottet full to cwack."

"Never mind, to-night. Wait till to-morrow," said mamma.

Tot went obediently to sleep, and woke in the morning to find beside her
pillow, such lots of candy--her Sugar River candy she thought, all
cracked and ready to eat.

"It tastes dus 'ike any tandy," said Tot.

They didn't tell her then, the illusion was so dear to her childish
heart. But, when she was a little older, Tot laughed as long and as
gleefully as anyone over the story of the little girl who went to Sugar
River for sugar plums.

A PIONEER "WIDE AWAKE."

One event in the life of Jacob Lohr qualified him, in my opinion, to be
mustered into the army of "Wide Awakes." Let me tell the children the
incident and see if they agree with me.

He was a native of the Mohawk Valley near Schenectady, New York, and
when about twenty years old, with his young wife, Polly, emigrated to
the wilds of Western Pennsylvania. This was more than seventy years ago,
when the magnificent forests of that region afforded some of the finest
hunting-grounds in America. Here Jacob began clearing a farm, built a
log dwelling-house, planted corn and potatoes, and in a few years became
a thriving pio