ut
launching him on a voyage of many perils. But she knew, also, that it is
only by such perils, and through such voyages, that men, that saints,
are made.

(_To be continued._)

HOW THE PONY WAS TAKEN.

BY C. W.

One morning, last August, Jimmie Wood was sitting on the gate-post
making a willow whistle, when a remarkable wagon, drawn by a lean, gray
horse, came up over the hill. The wagon looked like a big black box with
a window in it. In front was a man driving, and this man seemed rather
peculiar too. He had a long, pointed mustache and very curly hair. He
was not a cigar and candy peddler, nor a patent medicine man, nor a
machine agent, for Jim could recognize any of these in a minute. The
curly-haired man stopped directly in front of the gate.

"Good morning," said he.

"Morning," answered Jim, shutting up his knife.

"My name's Leatherbee," continued the curly-haired man.

"Is it?" said Jim, unconcernedly, and then slid off the gate-post and
started for the house.

"Hi boy!"

Jim turned quickly.

"Ask your pa whether he wouldn't like to have his house took!" called
out the stranger.

Jim nodded, and went across the grass-plot meditating upon what the man
meant by proposing to take the house. His father was in the sitting-room
writing a letter.

"Papa," said Jim, leaning up against the table, "there's a man out there
in the road that wants to take the house."

"Wants to take the house!" exclaimed Mr. Wood, making a blot in his
astonishment.

"Yes," continued Jim, "and he has the funniest-looking wagon you ever
saw in your life."

"Ah!" said Mr. Wood, "I understand now; he wants to take some
photographs, I suppose. Well, tell him I don't want any," and Mr. Wood
went on with his letter, while Jim proceeded across the front yard
again. He noticed his pony over in the orchard. A thought struck him,
and he wheeled around and went back in the sitting-room again in some
haste.

"Papa," said he, "can't I have the pony taken?"

"She wont stand still long enough," answered Mr. Wood, sealing up his
letter.

"But, papa, can't the man try?" pleaded Jim.

Mr. Wood thought for a minute. Then said:

"Yes. He may try."

Jim galloped across the front yard in a second.

"Well?" said the curly-haired man, raising his eyebrows.

"Papa doesn't want the house taken," said Jim, with some dignity. "But
can you take my pony over there in the orchard?"

The man looked at Baby, who was calmly crun