OSCAR. NO; I don't think it is.

TIMBOO. Very well. Tell me what he has omitted which would have been against himself and in your favor, while I get my black elastic punisher ready.

TIMBOO takes out of his pocket a small piece of whalebone about six inches long.

CARROLL. What is that?

TIMBOO. This is what I am going to punish you with for your omissions.

CARROLL. O Timboo! How are you going to punish me with it?

TIMBOO. I'm going to snap you with it on the back of your head.

CARROLL O Timboo, that will hurt!

TIMBOO. Of course it will. I mean it to hurt. What sort of a punishment would it be that would not hurt! Now let us hear, Oscar. What is it that he has omitted?

OSCAR. First, he said that he lent me his kite; but I don't think that was exactly right. He agreed to put in the kite, and I was to put in the twine; and so we were going to fly the kite together.

TIMBOO. Was that so, Carroll ?

CARROLL. Yes; but that's the same thing.

TIMBOO. Not at all. You represented it as if you had simply lent him your kite as a favor to him from you. You kept back the fact that at the same time he lent you his twine, which made it a very different affair. So hold round your head. You must have three smart snaps for

that.

CARROLL. Why, where are you going to snap me?

TIMBOO. Right on the back of your head.

CARROLL. O Timboo! Well, don't snap hard.

TIMBOO snaps the back of CARROLL'S head with the whalebone three times. CARROLL starts and jumps at each snap, and finally goes capering about as if in pain. OSCAR laughs heartily.

CARROLL (with his hand on the back of his head). O Timboo, that is too hard.

TIMBOO. Not a bit. It takes very hard snapping to get the spirit of unfairness out of a boy, in stating cases of dispute between himself and other boys. Now, Oscar, what else is there that he omitted?

OSCAR. He did not say it was his plan to go up the hill, where the trees were, when I wanted to stay in the field. I told him that the kite would get lodged in the trees.

TIMBOO. Was that so, Carroll ?

CARROLL. Why-yes.

TIMBOO. Then hold round your head again.

CARROLL, No.

TIMBOO. Yes.

CARROLL. No; you've snapped me enough.

See !

TIMBOO. Then you break your word. You made an agreement, and now you break it, just for fear of a little smart. (TIMBOO snaps his knee with his whalebone.) That's the value that Carroll sets upon his word. CARROLL. Well, snap away; I'll hold my head.

CARROLL turns, and TIMBOO snaps him again. cuts a caper, and pretends to be in great agony.

CARROLL jumps and

OSCAR laughs aloud.

TIMBOO. NOW, Oscar, go on. What else did he omit ? OSCAR. When the kite began to go against the trees he called out to me, first, to run as hard as I could; but when he found that the kite would not go clear, then he told me to stop; and I did stop as soon as I could.

TIMBOO. O Carroll, that is the worst omission of all! I wish I had a bigger piece of whalebone.

OSCAR. NO, Timboo; you need not snap him any more. I forgive him the rest. Though it is good fun to see him caper about.

TIMBOO. Well, if you forgive him, I must let him off, I suppose. But it is bad for him. It is very bad, indeed, for him. The truth is, that telling one-sided stories is such an inveterate vice in boys, that it takes a great deal of smart snapping to get it out of them. However, if you say you forgive him, that is the end of the matter; and I may as well put the whalebone away.

OSCAR. And what are we to do with our kite and twine?

TIMBOO. O, there will be no trouble about that. Carry the kite, just as it is, and lay it in my lodge; and this evening I will take it to the kitchen, and we will untangle the twine, and make a new kite, and all will be well. Only I really don't think that Carroll has been punished half enough; and the next time you 'll find him telling his stories all one-sided again, just as he has done now.

Ex-act'ly. Accurately; precisely.
Ca'pa-ble. Qualified for; able.
Un'der-takes. Attempts; takes in
hand.

State'ment. Act of stating; recital.
0-mit'ted. Left out; not mentioned.

A-gree'ment. Bargain; contract.
In vet'er-ate. Old; long established;
confirmed in any habit.

Lodge. A small house or other hab-
itation in a park or forest.

What mistakes did Carroll make in telling the story? In whose favor were these mistakes? What did Timboo mean by "one-sided stories"? What did Timboo propose that they should do with the kite and twine?

XXII. OLD-FASHIONED FLOWERS.

ETHEL LYNN.

color
măl'a-chite

1.

W

HERE are the sweet old-fashioned posies,

Quaint in form and bright in hue,

Such as grandma gave her lovers,

When she walked the garden through?

2. Lavender, with spikes of azure,
Pointing to the dome on high,
Telling thus whence came its color,
Thanking with its breath the sky.

3. Four-o'clock, with heart unfolding,
When the loving sun had gone,
Streak and stain of running crimson,
Like the light of early dawn.

4. Regal lilies, many-petaled,

Like the curling drifts of snow,
With their crown of golden anthers
Poised on malachite below.

5. Morning-glories, tents of purple
Stretched on tents of creamy white,
Folding up their satin curtains
Inward through the dewy night.

6. Marigold, with coat of velvet,
Streaked with gold and yellow lace,
With its love for summer sunlight
Written on its honest face.

7. Dainty pink, with feathered petals,
Tinted, curled, and deeply frayed.
With its calyx heart, half broken,
On its leaves uplifted laid.

8. Can't you see them in the garden
Now, where grandma takes her nap,
And cherry blooms shake softly over
Silver hair and snowy cap?

9. Will the modern florist's triumph
Look so fair or smell so sweet,
As those dear old-fashioned posies,
Blooming round our grandma's feet?

Regal. Royal; kingly.

Mal'à-chite. A mineral, either green

An'thers. Little hollow cases or or blue, found with copper.

bodies borne on the top of filaments, filled with powdery matter called pollen.

Poised. Balanced.

Pet'als. Flower-leaves.

Cal'yx. Flower cup; outer covering of the blossom.

Florist. One who cultivates flowers.

WHO

HO does not love birds? Who does not grieve when they leave us in autumn, with the bright days of summer, and who does not welcome them back