e halls.

AUNT CECILIA.

MY FIRST ATTEMPT AT FISHING.

WHEN I was seven years old, my father took me down to the river to fish.
I had a nice new line, and a little hook that I bought of a peddler the
week before. My father cut me a pole from the woods near by; and I
caught a grasshopper for bait.

I tried to put the grasshopper on the hook, but I pricked my finger: so
my father put it on for me. Then I threw in my line, and kept moving it
up and down.

Pretty soon I thought I felt a bite, and called out to my father, "O
father, I've got a fish!" I pulled it up, and what do you think I had
caught? You could not guess in a week. It was my sister's old rag baby.

FRANK LYNN.

[Illustration]

SHY LITTLE PANSY.

"WHY so shy, my Pansy,
Tell me why so shy?
Mother's arms are round thee;
This is grandma by.
She can tell you stories
Of the time, my dear,
When she was a little girl
Just like Pansy here.

"Once there was a dolly,
And its name was Bess;
Grandma then, like Pansy,
Was--how old? Now guess!
Just the age of Pansy!
Well, one night, you see"--
"Grandma," said the little girl,
"Take me on your knee."

Pansy's shyness melted;
Grandma won the day:
Now hugged tight in grandma's arms
Little Pansy lay;
And she heard a story
Of a doll so fine,
Left out on the cold, cold ground,
Where no sun could shine.

And the snow fell slowly,
Softly fell, like down,
Till a heap of drifted flakes
Covered dolly's gown.
Yes, it hid and covered
All the bright blue dress,
Then her hair and rosy cheeks--
Poor forsaken Bess!

Dolly's little mother
Hunted for her child;
But no trace of her was seen
Till the air grew mild.
When the snow was melted,
There was dolly found,
With her silken dress all soiled
On the muddy ground.

EMILY CARTER.

NEW METHOD OF CATCHING MICE.

PERHAPS some of your youthful readers will be