or bread-and-butter, scattering
crumbs all over the carpet, and keeping their mamma busy much of the
time in sweeping up. So he thought he would call a council to consider
the matter, and see what could be done about it.

Papa, robed in his dressing-gown, took the chair; Eva was placed in
front; Ernest stood on the right hand, and Jessie on the left. The
chairman then told the children how much work they made mamma, and
proposed a rule,--that no more food should be brought into the
sitting-room. All who were in favor of such a rule were requested to
vote for it by raising their hands. Each of the children raised a hand;
and fat little Jessie raised both of hers as high as she could. So the
vote was passed.

Then papa said that a rule was good for nothing unless there was a
penalty with it. So he made Eva judge, and asked her what the punishment
should be for breaking the rule. "I think," said she, "the first one
that _spoils_ the rule should be shut up in jail five minutes."

This was thought to be about the right thing: so the bedroom was
selected for a jail, and Ernest was made jailer. Eva wanted to know,
since she was judge, and Ernest was jailer, what Jessie could be. Her
papa said that Jessie would probably be the first prisoner. As to
Ernest, he went at once and told his mamma that he was "no more a little
boy, but a jailer-man."

Well, that day no more crumbs were scattered; and Ernest did not get a
prisoner, though he kept a bright lookout for one. But the next day he
got one; and this is the way it happened. Papa said he would like an
apple. Eva brought him one; and, while he was paring and eating it, he
dropped some of the peel on the floor. In an instant, to his great
dismay, he was arrested and locked up; and he might have languished in
jail full five minutes, if Ernest had not been such a kind jailer that
he let him out in two.

Papa thinks that the next time he makes a rule he will be careful not to
break it.

L. P. A.

[Illustration]

THE SONG OF THE KETTLE.

MY house is old, the rooms are low,
The windows high and small;
And a great fireplace, deep and wide,
Is built into the wall.

There, on a hanging chimney-hook,
My little kettle swings;
And, in the dreary winter-time,
How cheerily it sings!

My kettle will not sing to-day--
What co