nes might have been watching for it
to come home!'

THE LITTLE BLIND LINNET.

I have a linnet small and brown,
And I to it am kind,
Because it must be sad at heart,
For it is quite, quite blind.

Oh! only think what it must be
Never to see the flowers,
And never see the sky and trees,
In golden summer hours.

But still my linnet sweetly sings
A rippling, happy song,
As though its tiny heart o'erflowed
With joy the whole day long.

And so, whenever I am cross,
And tears fall like the rain,
Oh! when I hear my linnet sing,
It makes me good again!

THE GIANT OF THE TREASURE CAVES.

(_Continued from page 247._)

A very pretty little fishing village is Tout-Petit. The deep blue sea,
the green hills, and the tiny red-roofed, white-walled hamlet straggling
down to the port made it very quaint. A rivulet, spanned by a cranky
bridge, swept round the base of the hill to the left, and down the
centre of the village street, till it found its way into the sea at the
harbour. There were shady paths close to the shore, little knots of
silver poplar and birch, winding walks among the rocks and on the smooth
sands. The port was full of brown sails and tall masts; the air redolent
of tar and sea-weed. When the fishing boats spread their canvas and
glided out one by one into the open sea, the scene was enchanting. At
the top of the hill was the Grande Place, where stood the ancient
church, the market-place, the municipal buildings, and the houses of the
better class.

It was at the top of the hill, where there was a great stone cross, that
the women and children collected to watch for the returning boats. It
was to this old cross that the homeward-bound mariner first turned his
eyes. He knew that his dear ones were standing there waiting, longing
for him.

Estelle was charmed with the village, and with the many kindly greetings
she received from the peasant folk. All seemed glad to see her, the
market-women even pressing an apple or a few plums on her. They, on
their side, were delighted with her graceful manner and her excellent
French. They seemed to know all about her.

Madame Bricolin, busy over the important business of buying a chicken,
vegetables, and fruit for M. le Cure's table, found time to draw her
master's attention to the child. The old man was coming down the hill,
but he stopped to look at the fair-haired, slender English child, who