tle fellow was quite at his
wits' ends to know what to do with himself. Finally it struck him that
it would be fine fun to "play fish." So he went to one of his mother's
drawers and got a long string, on the end of which he fastened a
crooked pin; then he went way up--up--up--so _many_ flights of stairs,
to the very highest entry he could find, way to the top of the house;
from there the stair-case wound round, and round, and round, like a
cork-screw, down into the front entry, far enough to make you dizzy to
look over.

Well, Walter let down his line, and then he reached over his little
curly head to see how far it went. Poor, merry, bright-eyed little
Walter!--how can I tell the rest? Over he went, beating and bruising
his little head--down--down--till he reached the marble floor in the
lower entry, where he was taken up--_dead_!

His young mamma cried very hard,--but that didn't bring back her poor,
neglected little boy; but it made her a better mother. She loves to
stay in the nursery now, with Walter's little sisters nestled in her
lap; and sometimes when they smile, she will part the sunny curls from
their little foreheads, and the tears will fall like rain drops on
their rosy faces, as she remembers her poor, darling, mangled, little
Walter.

CHILDREN, DID YOU EVER HEAR OF MR. "THEY SAY?"

I shan't ask you if you ever saw him, because I know that, like other
cowards, he generally skulks out of sight; but I'm very sure if you
could get a peep at him, you would find that he had a "cloven foot."
But if I can't tell you _who_ Mr. "They Say" is, I can tell you _what_
he is.

It quite drives him frantic to see any person happier than himself, or
more fortunate; and as sure as any one gets more love, or more money,
than he has, he will knit his ugly brows to contrive somehow to give
them the heart-ache. Sometimes he will do it in one way, and sometimes
in another; sometimes he will do it by shrugging his shoulders, shaking
his head, and looking as if he _could_ say something dreadful bad about
a person, if he only had a mind to. He has made many a poor woman, who
had no brave arm to strike the coward down, weep her bright eyes dim,
till she longed to lay her aching head with the silent company in the
quiet church-yard.

You'd suppose that nobody who owned a heart, would ever choose the
society of such a wicked villain. You'd suppose nobody who loved God,
would ever listen to him, or repeat his false sayi