'Twould have left me but one, which is hardly enough,
As I find it convenient, just now, to have two."

Then she faded away, a dark speck on the sky.
"That's a very shrewd bird," said the fox in dismay!
"I shall have to look round for my dinner, again,
And I fancy it will not be wild duck to-day."

EARTHEN VESSELS.

Spring time had come, with its blossoms and birds; and Mrs. Rossiter
threw up the sash of the east window, and pushed open the blinds, and
drew a long deep breath of morning air, and morning sunshine.

"I think, Bridget," she said, "that we might venture to bring the
house-plants out-doors to-day. There can hardly be another frost, this
year."

"Oh! may I help?" asked little Charley, "I'll be very careful."

"On that condition, that you be very careful, you may bring the little
ones," answered his mother.

The work progressed safely and rapidly for awhile. Geraniums, roses,
fuchsias, heliotropes, and so following, came forth in profusion, many
in bloom, and were placed in rows along the garden borders, ready to
be transferred to the beds, for the summer. At last the little ones
were all brought by Charley, and only larger ones remained.

"I'll carry just this one big one," he said to himself: "I'm stronger
than mother thinks I am." But the pot full of earth, was heavier than
Charley had thought it, and before he reached the place to set it down
it had grown very heavy indeed; and, glad to get it out of his aching
arms as quickly as possible, he placed it on the curb so suddenly,
that with a loud crash it parted in the middle and lay in pieces at
his feet. Glancing quickly at his mother and seeing in her face
impending reproach, he forestalled it by exclaiming:

"Well, that pot broke itself very easily. What's it made of, any how?"

The mother couldn't help but smile at this attempted shifting of the
blame to the pot, but she answered, in a moment, gravely:

"The pot, Charley, was made of clay; the same weak material from which
little boys are made; who, when they forget to obey their mothers, are
as likely to meet disaster as the earthen pot."

Charley didn't care just then to discuss disobedient boys, so he
turned at once to the subject of the pot.

"Made of clay," he exclaimed, "well, I'd like to see a man make a
thing like that of clay."

"And so would I," said sister Mary, who, from an upper window, had
listened to the conversation.

"And so you