paw to Lilla; won't
you, Multiphobus?"

"I will give two," said the Multiphobus, standing on his hind legs and
stretching out his fore paws to Lilla.

She shook them, and felt at ease with him at once.

The Magpie fluttered about.

"I am not going home by myself," said he. "I shall stay here if Lilla
does."

"That you shall," replied Rollo; "we will all live in this beautiful
land together."

[Illustration: "THE WIND HAD LULLED THEM TO SLEEP."]

Ah! what a beautiful land it was! The two children wandered through it
hand in hand, and revelled in all its glories--now underneath the
stately forest trees, or breaking through the tangled brushwood all
radiant with green and gold, and crimson leaves and lovely flowers, or
now sitting on the river-bank listening to the stories the river told
them of the lands through which it had passed; whilst the Wind sang so
many wonderful songs that Lilla begged to hear them over again.

And after the Wind had lulled them to sleep among the soft clover and
wild thyme, the moon and stars peeped out and sent them beautiful
dreams, whilst two nightingales sat among the roses and sang "Lullaby,
lullaby" as sweetly as the southern wind.

So that whether waking or sleeping the children were happy.

Sometimes Lilla would say--

"Ah! if it had not been for the words on the board, I should still have
been living with the cross old woman in the town with the long street
and the cathedral. And she would have gone on scolding me for ever and
ever; and whatever should I have done, I wonder."

"You may thank me," said the Magpie, "for having brought you away;
that's very certain."

"You may thank me also," said the Multiphobus, "and I am sure you ought
to do so, for it was I who nailed up the board with the magic words upon
the garden wall."

And of course, as I need not tell you, Lilla did thank them.

JULIA GODDARD.

A YOUNG ROMAN'S SACRIFICE.

A TRUE STORY.

Once upon a time, many hundred years ago, when Rome was mistress of the
world, and the Romans were braver and stronger than any one else, there
lived a boy of thirteen whose name is still remembered. Lucius Valerius
was fond of his lessons, but most of all did he love poetry; so,
although he was only thirteen years old, he made up his mind that he
would try to win the gold medal and ivory lyre which were given every
five years to the boy who should write the best poem.

Lucius not only tried, but he succeeded, a