way here; go below and turn in."

Frank could not help thinking that it was time to turn in, after being
so often turned out. Down he went, and found himself in a close,
ill-lighted, stifling place (where hardly anything could be seen, and a
great deal too much smelled) lined with what seemed like monster chests
of drawers, with a man in each drawer, while others were swinging in
their hammocks. He crept into one of the bare wooden bunks, drew the
musty blanket over him, and, taking his bundle for a pillow, was asleep
in a moment, despite the loud snoring of some of his companions, and the
half-tipsy shouting and quarrelling of the rest.

[TO BE CONTINUED.]

A FAIRY FLIGHT.

BY ROSE TERRY COOKE.

A fairy lived in a lily bell--
Ring, sing, columbine!
In frosts she stole a wood-snail's shell,
Till soft the sun should shine;
And spring-time comes again, my dear,
And spring-time comes again,
With rattling showers, and wakened flowers,
And bristling blades of grain.

And, oh! the lily bell was sweet--
Ring, swing, columbine!
But the snail shell pinched her little feet,
And suns were slow to shine.
It's long till spring-time comes, my dear,
Till spring-time comes again:
The year delays its smiling days,
And snow-drifts heap the plain.

The fairy caught a butterfly--
Swing, cling, columbine!
The last that dared to float and fly
When pale the sun did shine;
For spring is slow to come, my dear,
Is slow to come again,
And far away doth summer play,
Beyond the roaring main.

She mounted on her painted steed--
Ring, cling, columbine!
And well he served that fairy's need,
And hot the sun did shine.
The spring she followed fast, my dear,
She followed it amain;
Where blossoms throng the whole year long
She found the spring again.

Oh, fairy sweet! come back once more--
Ring, swing, columbine!
When grass is green on hill and shore,
And summer sunbeams shine.
What if the spring is late, my dear,
And comes with dropping rain?
When roses blow and rivers flow,
Come back to us again.

ANIMALS THAT LOVE MUSIC.

Music affects animals differently. Some rejoice, and are evidently happy
when listening to it, while others show unmistakable dislike to the
sound.

For some years my father lived in an old Hall in the neighborhood of one
of our large towns, and there I saw the influe