them far out of reach.

In one cavern, known as the Round Room, arrow and spear heads have been
found, proving that human beings formerly made use of the caves.

One peculiar feature of these caves are what appear to be limpid pools,
though really they are quite dry now. An unfortunate traveller slipped
into one of these many years ago, when the pool was not fully hardened,
and the impression of his form is still quite clearly seen, whilst the
pool, in honour of him, is known as Chapman's Lake.

THE SONG OF THE BROOM.

Dust! dust! dust! dust!
Carpet, curtain, window, floor;
Right, left, thrust, thrust--
Clouds are rising more and more!
Sweep, sweep, sweep, sweep--
Kitchen, parlour, passage, stair;
Sweep, sweep, sweep, sweep--
That's what _I'm_ obliged to bear!
Dust, dust, dust, dust,
In the lofty attic found;
Dust, dust, dust, dust,
In the cellar underground.

Cobwebs, spiders, beetles, flies,
Nooks and corners dark and drear,
That is where my pathway lies,
Month by month and year by year;
Buckets, boxes, brushes, boots,
Near to me for ever dwell;
No one lets me share the fruits
Of the work I do so well;
Boys and girls will often play
In some clean and pleasant room,
Making litter all the day,
For the poor unhappy broom.

No one shows me gratitude;
No one cares a jot for me,
For when work is done I'm stood
In some gloomy scullery.
But no matter! time will come--
When my hair is worn away,
I shall rest, while some new broom
Does what I must do to-day.

ONE MORE CHANCE.

'I want you to look after the new boy, Angus,' said Mrs. Macdonald, the
wife of the head master, to her son.

'Oh, Mother, I know that means he is either a molly-coddle or a black
sheep. I remember the time I had when you set me on to look after young
Smith.'

'My boy, I want your help. I am sure you will not refuse it.'

'Well, fire away, Mother. Let me know the worst,' and Angus put on a
resigned look.

'It is Andrews, the boy who has been sent home from India,' Mrs.
Macdonald explained. 'He has been brought up so badly. His mother died
when he was a baby, and he has been quite neglected, and left to native
servants. His father writes that he hopes English school-life will break
him of the bad habits he has formed, but I am afraid it will be no easy