her heart grew glad and free.
"Hast thou chosen a home, my child?
Ah, where shall we dwell?" quoth she.
And he said: "Sweet mother, from east to west,
The loveliest home, and the dearest and best,
Is a little brown house,
An old brown house,
Under an apple tree."

EUDORA S. BUMSTEAD

THE JACKAL AND THE PARTRIDGE

A Jackal and a Partridge swore eternal friendship; but the Jackal was
very exacting and jealous. "You don't do half as much for me as I do for
you," he used to say, "and yet you talk a great deal of your friendship.
Now my idea of a friend is one who is able to make me laugh or cry,
give me a good meal, or save my life if need be. You couldn't do that!"

"Let us see," answered the Partridge; "follow me at a little distance,
and if I don't make you laugh soon you may eat me!"

So she flew on till she met two travellers trudging along, one behind
the other. They were both foot-sore and weary, and the first carried his
bundle on a stick over his shoulder, while the second had his shoes in
his hand.

Lightly as a feather the Partridge settled on the first traveller's
stick. He, none the wiser, trudged on; but the second traveller, seeing
the bird sitting so tamely just in front of his nose, said to himself:
"What a chance for a supper!" and immediately flung his shoes at it,
they being ready to hand. Whereupon the Partridge flew away, and the
shoes knocked off the first traveller's turban.

"What a plague do you mean?" cried he, angrily turning on his companion.
"Why did you throw your shoes at my head?"

"Brother!" replied the other, mildly, "do not be vexed. I didn't throw
them at you, but at a Partridge that was sitting on your stick."

"On my stick! Do you take me for a fool?" shouted the injured man, in a
great rage. "Don't tell me such cock-and-bull stories. First you insult
me, and then you lie like a coward; but I'll teach you manners!"

Then he fell upon his fellow-traveller without more ado, and they fought
until they could not see out of their eyes, till their noses were
bleeding, their clothes in rags, and the Jackal had nearly died of
laughing.

"Are you satisfied?" asked the Partridge of her friend.

"Well," answered the Jackal, "you have certainly made me laugh, but I
doubt if you could make me cry. It is easy enough to be a buffoon; it is
more difficult to excite the higher emotions."

"Let us see," retorted the Partr