nd forward
over the hole he had cut in the web, just as if he were a weaver's
shuttle, and in about ten minutes it was all covered with gauzy
lacework finer than ever was worn by a queen.

"I'll give it up, old fellow," exclaimed Neddy, taking a long breath
as he saw the work completed. "This just beats me out." Spider crept
down into his den again to wait for another fly, and Neddy, leading
Tony, went on his way pleased and wondering.

THE SPARROW.

Thou humblest bird that wings the air, the Master cares for thee;
And if he cares for one so small, will he not care for me?

His eye looks on thee from above, he notices thy fall;
And if he cares for such as thee, does he not care for all?

He feeds thee in the sweet spring-time, when skies are bright and
blue;
He feeds thee in the autumn-time, and in the winter too.

He leads thee through the pathless air, he guides thee in thy
flight;
He sees thee in the brightest day, and in the darkest night.

Oh, if his loving care attends a bird so mean and small,
Will he not listen to my voice when unto him I call?

[Illustration: {Mrs. Pike talks to Sarah and Jane}]

MRS. PIKE'S PRISONERS.

A TRUE STORY.

Early on a cloudy April afternoon, many years ago, several little
girls were playing in a village door-yard, not far from the fence
which separated it from a neighbor's. They were building a play-house
of boards, and were so busily occupied, that none of them had noticed
a lady standing at a little four-paned window in the house the other
side of the fence, who had been intently regarding them for some time.
The window was so constructed as to swing back like a door, and being
now open, the lady's face was framed against the dark background of
the room, producing the effect of a picture. 'Twas a strange face,
sallow and curiously wrinkled, with a nose like the beak of a hawk,
and large black eyes, which seemed to be endowed with the power of
perpetual motion. These roved from one to another of the busy
builders, till suddenly one of them seemed to be aware that some one
was looking at her, and turned towards the little window.

"Ah, I know you, Wealthy Robbins! Come here a minute, my little dear,"
spoke the lady, in a shrill, quavering voice. And she beckoned to her
with a hooked finger like a claw. But Wealthy shrank back, murmuring,
"I don't want to," almost under her breath, and nudg