craft--
Kerchunk! goes a bullfrog
From his rushy raft.

There's a fleet of lilies
We go scudding round,--
Bumblebees for sailors,--
And they're fast aground.
Here's a drowning fly
In her satin dress.
All hands, about ship!
Signals of distress.

Argosies of childhood,
Laden down with joys,
Gunwale-deep with treasures!
Happy sailor boys,
May your merry ventures
All their harbors win,
And upon life's stormy sea
Every ship come in.

GEORGE COOPER.

[Illustration: {The wasp trying to get to Harry's pudding}]

IT TAKES TWO TO MAKE A QUARREL.

A STORY FOR OUR YOUNGEST READERS.

How Harry Marshall had reckoned upon that piece of currant-pudding!
The farmer's wife, whose name was Jolly (and a very fit name for her
it was), had promised him a plateful for dinner, because he had taken
such good care of her pet brood of chickens while she had been away
from Elm Tree Farm on a visit.

Harry was a farmer's lad, ten years old, tall and stout for his age,
and able to do a great many more things than some city boys of
fourteen. He could ride and drive, keep the stable in order, and even
handle a plough. Nor was he a dunce; for, thanks to an evening school,
which some of his Sunday teachers had opened in the village, he had
learned to read and write very fairly. He had a comfortable place at
farmer Jolly's; but there was plenty of work to do, and the food was
plain, though he always had enough; so he did not get pudding every
day. No wonder, then, that he should go to bed and dream about that
particular currant-pudding of which I am writing. You must not suppose
that this was made with such "currants" as are put into a _Christmas_
pudding; they are only small _grapes_. No; it was a real
currant-pudding, full of nice red fruit and juice, enough to make your
mouth water.

The long morning's work was at last over, and Harry, nothing loath,
hastened in and took his place at the side table in the kitchen, where
he usually sat. His plate of meat and potatoes was soon cleared, for
the boy's appetite had been sharpened by several hours in the fields.

"And now, Harry," said Martha, the servant, "here's your pudding, and
a nice piece it is; but you mustn't be long about it, for John and
Peter will want you back in the field; they have been gone this half
hour." So saying, Martha placed the longed-for