a
small house near the chicken-yard. A dog lives there--a big black and
white fellow--named Bruce. He is let into the chicken-yard every night
at dark. If you think that he wont see you, when you go inside, or that
he can't run fast enough to catch you, it might be a very good idea for
you to go down there this evening and get some chickens."

[Illustration: THE THREE SMART LITTLE FOXES.]

The three little foxes looked at each other, and concluded that they
would not go. It was a long time after that before they were heard to
boast of being smarter than their father and mother.

[Illustration: Jack in the pulpit.]

JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT.

Happy 1878! Happy New Year to all Jack's little friends! And now let us
begin our year's talk with something about

A GARDEN IN WINTER.

Deacon Green took a ride early last month, my dears, and he tells me of
a wonderful garden which he saw from a window as he went whirling by on
a railroad.

Can you guess what was growing in a garden in December?

No, it was not in a Southern State; so your guess of oranges isn't
right--though they tell me that oranges do grow in winter-time in
Florida.

It was a garden of Christmas-trees, set out in even rows, and looking as
spruce and gay and happy as if they knew that they were almost old
enough to hold a candle in each of their thousand hands, and a bright
gift or token of good-will on each of their thousand arms. I fancy that
the gardener who has his mind filled with the care of a garden of
Christmas-trees must be a very cheery, kind-hearted fellow indeed. Don't
you?

OVENS IN THE FIELDS.

In Mecklenburg, Northern Germany, as I'm told, fuel is scarce and dear:
and, as the peasants are very poor, they take an odd way to save wood.
It is this:

Each village has one or two large ovens in which the baking for a number
of people can be done at one time. These ovens look from a little
distance as if they were small hillocks, and they are built in the open
fields. Why they are placed away from the village I was not told; but I
would like to know. They have very much the look of underground
dairy-cellars, and are built of great stones covered with turf. One or
two men can go into an oven quite comfortably.

In each oven a great fire is made, to heat the stones, and when these
are hot enough the fire and ashes are swept out, and the bread is put in
to bake. Then a stone door is put over the mouth until it is time to
take out the