WELCOME TO THE FIRST FIRE.

The north wind is sighing,
The daylight is dying,
The sun has gone down, and the night shadows fall;
But see, lightly dancing,
And peeping, and glancing,
The firelight is climbing our nursery wall.

Then greet this new-comer
Who left us all summer,
To hide in old cinders while weather was warm;
Yet must have been near us,
For now, just to cheer us,
He comes back at once with the winter and storm.

Oh, ruddy flames leaping,
Say, where were you sleeping?
In some land of faery where fires never die,
And wind always freezes?
Or heard you the breezes
That fanned our sweet roses through June and July?

'Twas spring when we parted--
You smouldered down-hearted;
The lilacs were out, and we told you to go:
But knew, when November
Had come, you'd remember
To cheer us again with your warmth and your glow.

OLD CONDUITS.

Young readers are sometimes puzzled, in reading accounts of ancient
processions through city streets, at the frequent references to the
Conduits passed on the way. A conduit was a strong tower built of stone,
furnished with taps, through which water was supplied to the people.
London householders used to send their servants and apprentices, with
jugs and pails, to the conduits, to obtain water for daily use; and a
great deal of gossiping and quarrelling went on at these places. On
state occasions the conduits were decorated; and, at the coronation of
one of the queens, we read that over the conduit near Shoe Lane was
raised a turret, with figures of the four cardinal virtues; while the
taps, instead of sending out water, ran for that day with streams of
wine. Often, as a royal procession passed such places, a youth or child,
in some strange dress, would stand forth, and deliver a speech, prepared
beforehand, to the king or queen.

CLEVER BILLY.

A True Story.

'Well, Lucy, how have you been getting on since I saw you last?' said
Miss Fanny Cresswell to her niece, Lucy.

Lucy had come on a visit to her aunt's pretty cottage in the country,
and very pleased the little girl was to be there. Nevertheless, there
was a shadow on her usually bright face as she looked up.

'We have had a great trouble at home, Aunt Fanny,' she answered. 'Our
dear old dog, Carlo, is dead. He was so clever