fellow! How's your
old tail now?"

Charley was back in a twinkling with his own rabbit and the one Jim had
killed, but there was a wide difference between them. There was shot
enough in the latter to have killed half a dozen, while all the mark
they could find on Charley's game was one little spot at the roots of
his ears.

"So much for making the shot scatter. If I hadn't put in a double load
of shot, you'd have lost 'em both."

"There wasn't but one," said Charley.

"I mean that rabbit and old Napoleon Bonaparte. Come on now. Your gun's
all right. Let's try the other side of the swamp."

He pointed out a rabbit, sitting among some bushes, on the way, and
Charley's gun went off finely, now that the powder had been put in
first.

"Don't you ever shoot them when they're sitting still, Jim?"

"No; and you won't when you're used to it. There's one coming for me.
I'll take him as he goes by."

Nap was entirely safe this time. Indeed, he seemed inclined all the rest
of that morning to do his rabbit-hunting at a somewhat unsociable
distance from his friends.

There were plenty of rabbits in the swamp, and the boys were more than a
little proud of their success, especially Charley; but when the time
came for going home, it was curious how ready they both were to go. So
was Napoleon Bonaparte. Truth to tell, it had been hard work, and the
boys declared the rabbit a remarkably heavy beast, for his size, by the
time they reached home with their game.

THE AWAKENING.

BY M. M.

Down all the rugged mountain-slopes,
Through all the mossy dells,
There comes a gentle purling sound,
Like peals of fairy bells.

A tinkling, rippling, gurgling song
Is borne on every breeze;
Mysterious whispers seem to stir
The grim old forest trees.

The tiny grasses wave their hands
And gayly nod their heads
To lazy buds, still half asleep
In cozy winter beds.

And now the riotous sunbeams come;
They draw the curtains wide;
Nor leave untouched the smallest nook
Where sleepy buds may hide.

"Awake! awake!" the whole Earth cries:
"King Winter's reign is past;
His crown he yields to his fairest child,
And Spring is Queen at last."

SALT AND ITS VALUE.

All our young readers know the value of that familiar and useful
substance, salt, which enters so largely into our daily wants, and is so
essential to our existence. Formerly prisoners in Holland were