gray goose sobbed in her handkerchief,
And sighed--"Ah, well, we will have to go
And let the neighbors know."

[Illustration]

So down they went to the river's brim,
Where their feathered friends were wont to swim,
And there on the turf so green and deep
The old wolf lay asleep.

He had a grizzly, savage look,
And he snored till the boughs above him shook.
They tiptoed round him--drew quite near,
Yet still he did not hear.

Then, as the mother gazed, to her
It seemed she could see his gaunt side stir--
Stir and squirm, as if under the skin
Were something alive within!

"Go back to the house, quick, dear," she said,
"And fetch me scissors and needle and thread.
I'll open his ugly hairy hide,
And see what is inside."

[Illustration]

She snipped with the scissors a criss-cross slit,
And well rewarded she was for it,
For there were her goslings--six together--
With scarcely a rumpled feather.

The wolf had eaten so greedily,
He had swallowed them all alive you see,
So, one by one, they scrambled out,
And danced and skipped about.

Then the gray goose got six heavy stones,
And placed them in between the bones;
She sewed him deftly, with needle and thread,
And then with her goslings fled.

The wolf slept long and hard and late,
And woke so thirsty he scarce could wait.
So he crept along to the river's brink
To get a good cool drink.

But the stones inside began to shake,
And make his old ribs crack and ache;
And the gladsome flock, as they sped away,
Could hear him groan, and say:--

"What's this rumbling and tumbling?
What's this rattling like bones?
I thought I'd eaten six small geese,
But they've turned out only stones."

He bent his neck to lap--instead,
He tumbled in, heels over head;
And so heavy he was, as he went down
He could not help but drown!

And after that, in thankful pride,
With goslings seven at her side,
The gray goose came to the river's brink
Each day to swim and drink.

AMANDA B. HARRIS.

[Illustration]

THE BISHOP'S VISIT.

Tell you about it? Of course I will!
I thought 'twould be dreadful to have him come,
For mamma said I must be quiet and still,
And she put away my whistle and drum.--

[Illustration]

And made me unharness the parlor chairs,
And packed my cannon and all the rest
Of my noisiest playthings off u