erfully kind.

_----F. W. Faber._

IT WAS a dreamy day in late October, when not only the Tiger Hills
were veiled in mist, but every object on the prairie had a gentle
draping of amber gray. "Prairie fires ragin' in the hills," said Aunt
Kate, who always sought for an explanation of natural phenomena, but
Pearlie Watson knew better. She knew that it was a dream curtain that
God puts around the world in the autumn, when the grass is faded and
the trees bare and leafless. She explained it to the other children
coming home that night.

"You see, kids," said Pearl, "in the summer everything is so well
fixed up that there's no need to hide anything, and so the sun just
shines and shines, and the days are long and bright to let every one
have a good look at things. There's the orange-lilies pepperin' the
grass, and there's cowslips and ladies' slippers, if it's yellows you
like, and there's wild roses and morning-glories, and pink ladies'
slippers, if you know whereto look for them, and the hills are all so
green and velvety, and there's the little ponds full of water with
the wind crinklin' the top of it, and strings of wild ducks sailin'
kind o' sideways across them. Oh, it's a great sight, and it would be
a pity to put a mist on it. But now the colour has faded and the
ponds have dried up, and the grass is dead and full of dust, and it's
far nicer to have this gray veil drawn in close around. It helps you
to make a pretty picture for yourself. Now, look over there, near Tom
Simpson's old house--that ain't a train track at all, but a deep blue
sea, where boats sail day and night, and 'Spanish sailors with
bearded lips' walk up and down clankin' their swords and whisperin'
about hidden treasures."

Pearl's voice had fallen almost to a whisper.

"To-night when the moon rises the tallest one, the one with the deep
scar on his cheek, will lead the way to the cave in the rock; the
door flies open if you say the password 'Magooslem,' and there the
golden guineas lie strewn upon the stone floors. And look back there
at Lib Cavers's house--do you see how dreamy like and sleepin' it is,
not takin' a bit of notice of anything? It don't look like a house
where there's ever dirty dishes or anybody feelin' sad or lonely, and
I don't believe that's Cavers's house at all," went on Pearl, making
a bold appeal to the imagination of her audience--"that's just a
dream house, where there is a big family of children, and they're
goin'