NS AND HIS CAT.}]

PUTTING OUT THE CANDLE.

Charles Dickens, for that is the name of the gentleman you see sitting
by the table, wrote many books and stories. Some of his stories are
about little children for grown folks to read, and others are for the
children themselves. Mr. Dickens had a pet cat, that was always in his
library. Strange to say, it had no name. That was no matter, because
the cat could not hear. He was deaf. But he liked very much to be
petted, and plainly showed sometimes that he was not pleased to have
his master do any thing else. One evening, when Mr. Dickens was
sitting at the table reading, his candle suddenly went out. He did not
know why it should have done so, but he got up and lighted it. In a
few moments it began to get dark again, and he looked up quickly at
the candle, and saw puss just raising his paw to put it out. "What did
he do?" He gave the cat a loving little pat and went on with his
reading. What a sly cat was that to find a way to make his master
notice him.

SULKY ARCHIE.

BY C. MANNERS SMITH.

"It must be nice to be a sailor, and I wish I was one. Every thing
goes wrong and mother is always scolding me, and father is never done
growling; I am getting tired of it."

The speaker was a little, round-cheeked lad, of about nine years of
age. He was standing, with a tall, fair-haired girl, evidently his
sister, on the edge of the river Wyncombe. He was not a lively boy. He
was one of those thoughtful, gloomy little boys who are always
dreaming; always thinking and imagining some fancied injury from
either father or mother.

[Illustration: "NOBODY CARES."]

Archie Phillips was the little boy's name, and he and his sister had
got a holiday and were watching a party of older children from the
Wynne High School, who had come down to the river to spend the
afternoon. There was Algernon Wright with a large model yacht, and
Willie Schofield, the Mayor's son, with a new silver-mounted fishing
rod. They were all as happy and full of frolic as all boys in the
spring-time of life ought to be. Little Archie was, however, of a
morose temperament, and did not share in any of the amusements.

The village of Wynne is a fishing village, and is approached from the
sea by a beautiful cove on the Cornish coast. The town is built on the
slopes of the hills reaching down to the water's edge, and the river
Wynne empties itself into the sea near by.

It is, indeed, a pleasant place. A