in

side of the bed, she tumbled out at the other, and ran to the window. Now the window was open, because the Bears, like good, tidy Bears, as they were, always opened their bed-chamber window when they got up the morning. Out little Silver-hair jumped; and away she ran into the wood, and the Three Bears never saw anything more of her.

END OF THE STORY

OF THE THREE

BEARS.

THE

BEAR AND THE CHILDREN.

I WILL tell you a circumstance which occurred a year ago, in a country town in the south of Germany. The master of a dancing Bear was sitting in the taproom of an inn, eating his supper; whilst the Bear, poor harmless beast! was tied up behind the woodstack in the yard.

In the room upstairs three little children were playing about. Tramp, tramp! was suddenly heard on the stairs; who could it be? The door flew open, and enter - the Bear, the huge shaggy beast, with his clanking chain! Tired of standing so long in the yard alone, Bruin had at length found his way to the staircase. At first the little children were in a terrible fright at this unexpected visit, and each ran into a corner to hide himself.

But the Bear found them all out, and

put his muzzle, snuffling, up to them, but did not harm them in the least. He must be a big dog, thought the children; and they began to stroke him familiarly. The bear stretched himself out at his full length upon the floor, and the youngest boy rolled over him, and nestled his curly head in the shaggy black fur of the beast. Then the eldest boy went and fetched his drum, and thumped away on it with might and main; whereupon the Bear stood erect upon his hind-legs, and began to dance. What glorious fun! Each boy shouldered his musket: the Bear must of course have one too; and he held it tight and firm, like any soldier. There's a comrade for you, my lads! and away they marched— one, -two-one,-two!

The door suddenly opened, and the children's mother entered. You should have seen her-speechless with terror, her cheeks white as a sheet, and her eyes fixed with horror. But the youngest boy nodded with a look of intense delight, and cried, "Mamma, we are only playing at soldiers!"

At that moment the master of the Bear appeared.

ALL the world must know that Goody Two-Shoes was not a little girl's real name. No; her father's name was Meanwell, and he was for many years a large farmer in the parish where Margery was born; but by the misfortunes he met with in business, and the wickedness of Sir Timothy Gripe, and a farmer named Graspall, he was quite ruined.

Care and discontent shortened the life of little Margery's father. Her poor mother survived the loss of her husband but a few days, and died of a broken heart, leaving Margery and her little brother to the wide world; but, poor woman! it would have melted your heart to have seen how frequently she raised her head while she lay speechless, to survey with pitying