ild, quietly, "I shall never go there again. But
oh! 't'll be suthin better!"--at which Dick rushed off hastily, and soon
after got into a quarrel with a fellow newsboy who had hinted that his
eyes were red. Anon he was back with some fresh gift, only to struggle
again with the choking grief.

And then came the end--quietly, peacefully. Near the close of a July
day, when the setting sun glorified every corner of the room, Gerty left
her pain, and, with a farewell sigh, was at rest.

"Oh, Gerty!" sobbed Dick, "don't forget me!"

Ah, Dick, you are held in everlasting remembrance, and more than one
angel is glad at thoughts of you, in the "Happy Land!"

THE CROW THAT THE CROW CROWED.

BY S. CONANT FOSTER.

"Ho! ho!"
Said the crow:
"So I'm not s'posed to know
Where the rye and the wheat
And the corn kernels grow--
Oh! no,
Ho! ho!

"He! he!
Farmer Lee,
When I fly from my tree,
Just you see where the tops
Of the corn-ears will be
Watch me!
He! he!"

Switch-swirch,
With a lurch,
Flopped the bird from his perch
As he spread out his wings
And set forth on his search--
His search--
Switch-swirch.

Click!-bang!--
How it rang,
How the small bullet sang
As it sped through the air--
And the crow, with a pang,
Went spang--
Chi-bang.

THE TAIL FEATHERS.

Now know,
That to crow
Often brings one to woe;
Which the lines up above
Have been put there to show,
And so,
Don't crow.

THE LONDON MILK-WOMAN.

BY ALEXANDER WAINWRIGHT.

Very sturdy in form and honest in face is the London milk-woman shown in
our picture. She has broad English features, smoothly parted hair, and a
nice white frill running round her old-fashioned, curtained bonnet. Her
boots are strong, and her dress is warm--the petticoats cut short to
prevent them from draggling in the mud. A wooden yoke fits to her
shoulders, which are almost as broad as a man's, and from the yoke hang
her cans, filled with milk and cream, the little ones being hooked to
the larger ones.

The London day has opened on a storm, and the snow lies thick on the
area railings, the lamp-posts and the roofs; but the morning is not too
cold or stormy for her. Oh, no! the mornings never are. It may rain, or
blow, o