"Confound him for a puppy!" said old Nutcracker, when his wife repeated these sayings to him. "Featherhead is a fool. Common, forsooth! I wish good, industrious, painstaking sons like Tip Chipmunk were common. For my part, I find these uncommon people the most tiresome; they are not content with letting us carry the whole load, but they sit on it, and scold at us while we carry them."

But old Mr. Nutcracker, like many other good old gentlemen squirrels, found that Christmas dinners and other things were apt to go as his wife said, and his wife was apt to go as young Featherhead said; and so, when Christmas came, the Chipmunks were not invited, for the first time in many years. The Chipmunks, however, took all pleasantly, and accepted poor old Mrs. Nutcracker's awkward apologies with the best possible grace, and young Tip looked in on Christmas morning with the compliments of the season and a few beech-nuts, which he had secured as a great dainty. The fact was, that Tip's little striped fur coat was so filled up and overflowing with cheerful good-will to all, that he never could be made to understand that any of his relations could want to cut him; and therefore Featherhead looked down on him with contempt, and said he had no tact, and could n't see when he was not wanted.

It was wonderful to see how, by means of persisting in remarks like these, young Featherhead at last got all his family to look up to him as something uncommon. Though he added nothing to the family, and required more to be done for him than all the others put together, though he showed not the smallest real perseverance or ability in anything useful, yet somehow all his brothers and sisters, and his poor foolish old mother, got into a way of regarding him as something wonderful, and delighting in his sharp sayings as if they had been the wisest things in the world.

But at last old papa declared that it was time for Featherhead to settle himself to some business in life, roundly declaring that he could not always have him as a hanger-on in the paternal hole.

"What are you going to do, my boy?" said Tip Chipmunk to him one day. "We are driving now a thriving trade in hickory-nuts, and if you would like to join us

"Thank you," said Featherhead; "but I confess I have no fancy for anything so slow as the hickory trade; I never was made to grub and delve in that way."

The fact was, that Featherhead had lately been forming alliances such as no reputable squirrel should even think of. He had more than once been seen going out evenings with the Rats of Rat Hollow, a race whose reputation for honesty was more than doubtful. The fact was, further, that old Longtooth Rat, an old sharper and money-lender, had long had his eye on Featherhead as just about silly enough for their purposes, engaging him in what he called a speculation, but which was neither more nor less than downright stealing.

Near by the chestnut-tree where Nutcracker Lodge was situated was a large barn filled with corn and grain, besides many bushels of hazel-nuts,

chestnuts, and walnuts. Now old Longtooth proposed to young Featherhead that he should nibble a passage into this loft, and there establish himself in the commission business, passing the nuts and corn to him as he wanted them. Old Longtooth knew what he was about in the proposal, for he had heard talk of a brisk Scotch terrier that was about to be bought to keep the rats from the grain; but you may be sure he kept his knowledge to himself, so that Featherhead was none the wiser for it.

"The nonsense of fellows like Tip Chipmunk!" said Featherhead to his There he "The perfectly stupid nonsense! admiring brothers and sisters. goes, delving and poking, picking up a nut here and a grain there, when I step into property at once."

"But I hope, my son, you are careful to be honest in your dealings," said old Nutcracker, who was a very moral squirrel.

With that, young Featherhead threw his tail saucily over one shoulder, winked knowingly at his brothers, and said, "Certainly, sir! If honesty consists in getting what you can while it is going, I mean to be honest."

Very soon Featherhead appeared to his admiring companions in the height of prosperity. He had a splendid hole in the midst of a heap of chestnuts, and he literally seemed to be rolling in wealth; he never came home without showering lavish gifts on his mother and sisters; he wore his tail over his back with a buckish air, and patronized Tip Chipmunk with a gracious nod whenever he met him, and thought that the world was going well with him.

But one luckless day, as Featherhead was lolling in his hole, up came two eyes blazed boys with the friskiest, wiriest Scotch terrier you ever saw. His like torches, and poor Featherhead's heart died within him as he heard the boys say, "Now we 'll see if we can't catch the rascal that eats our grain."

9590,

Featherhead tried to slink out at the hole he had gnawed to come in by, but found it stopped.

“O, you are there, are you, Mister?" said the boy. "Well, you don't get out; and now for a chase !"

And, sure enough, poor Featherhead ran distracted with terror up and down, through the bundles of hay, between barrels, and over casks; but with the barking terrier ever at his heels, and the boys running, shouting, and cheering his pursuer on. He was glad at last to escape through a crack, though he left half of his fine brush behind him, - for Master Wasp the terrier made a snap at it just as he was going, and cleaned all the hair off of it, so that it was bare as a rat's tail.

Poor Featherhead limped off, bruised and beaten and bedraggled, with the boys and dog still after him; and they would have caught him, after all, if Tip Chipmunk's hole had not stood hospitably open to receive him. Tip took him in, like a good-natured fellow as he was, and took the best of care of him; but the glory of Featherhead's tail had departed forever. He had sprained his left paw, and got a chronic rheumatism, and the fright and fatigue which he had gone through had broken up his constitution, so that he never again could be what he had been; but Tip gave him a situation as under-clerk in his establishment, and from that time he was a sadder and a wiser squirrel than he ever had been before.

Harriet Beecher Stowe.

NOT

LAST DAY.

OT the last day that ever will be, but the last day of school. What you call "examination day," that the little people of Applethorpe called "last day." And a great day it was, -committee in school, fathers and mothers, evergreens, best clothes, "speaking pieces," and rewards of merit. O, there was a great deal to be done! so Jack and Gerty and Trip went over to where Parke and Huldah and Moses and Susan and Lina lived, to see about it. It was evening, and, though their house was nearly a mile away, Jack was as brave as a lion, and Gerty and Trip as fearless as cubs under his wing, only cubs do not go under wings I believe.

Trip had private ends in view in accompanying her brother and sister. She was extremely interested in "last day," but she did not care to hear their tiresome talk about ways and means. Nobody ever listened to her, or if they did, it was only to laugh; but Lina and she could go away and play by themselves. She would have liked to carry both her dolls. I may as well tell you that her dolls were just rag-babies. Mary Maria, the elder, was a very well grown young woman, about as tall as your arm, and too heavy for Trip's arms; so Miss Mary Maria was forced to stay at home, although she had been arrayed for the visit in a cloak made of an old bonnet-lining,

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which garment Trip, who was of an aspiring as well as an ingenious mind, had dignified with the high-sounding appellation of "white-satin-saratogahalf-mantilla-belzerette"! The other was Charles Emilus, until Trip had a teacher whom she liked very much, and for whom she re-christened her son Emilus Alvah. Trip loved both her children alike, especially Emilus Alvah. He was much smaller than Mary Maria, being only about a third as tall as your arm, and he had trunkfuls of clothes. He had a little yellow plush great-coat, with a cape and velvet collar, and a blue silk cap with a visor do as nice a cap as ever you saw. Gerty made those. call it?you Gerty did all the extra tailoring, and Trip did the plain sewing. She made him little pink trousers, with embroidered white muslin ones over them, and little silk jackets, for party wear, and she hemstitched all his collars. He had school clothes, and meeting clothes, and rainy-day clothes; indeed, he had clothes on the slightest provocation. All his trousers were plaited at the waist, and stitched down as nicely as if he had been a real boy; and he had pins stuck into him wherever buttons ought to be, because the heads, you know, looked just like buttons. As Trip's dolls led a very active life, they naturally wore out often and had to be renewed. It was no great matter, for their legs and arms were only pieces of cloth rolled up and sewed, and then fastened to a body full of bran or cotton-wool, with a string tied tightly around where the waist and the throat ought to be, and eyes, nose, and Nevertheless, Trip was very mouth inked into the face by Jack or Gerty. fond of her young family, and undressed and put them to bed every night as regularly as she went to bed herself; therefore, when their faces grew hopelessly dirty, and their poor little bodies and limbs burst open beyond all possibility of repair, and she had to give them up and make new ones, she could It does not not help celebrating their obsequies with a few secret tears. seem to me that our young folks love their dolls half as much as these young folks did. But how long I am lingering over Trip's dolls! me! When people get into years they are apt to grow garrulous. know what that means? Never mind.

Pardon

Do you

So Trip took Emilus Alvah and a travelling-bag of his clothes over to Lina's, and they went into a little bedroom that opened out of the great kitchen where the others were, and enjoyed themselves and their play just as much as Trip expected, though she had one disappointment, - for in the midst of their play Lina jumped up, shut the door cautiously, opened the lid of a big old wooden chest, and beckoned Trip to look. Trip ran to her, and Lina dug down nearly to the bottom, and unearthed a clean crash towel, which, being unfolded, displayed a pile of beautiful bulky, flaky mince turnovers, of the shape and about the size of the half-moon in the sky. Now if Trip had a weakness, it was for mince turn-overs. Besides being mince, they had so much crust, and these in particular were of such royal dimensions, that they quite turned her head. Not unnaturally she concluded that they were going to be set forth in her and Jack and Gerty's honor; but the minute-hand kept going, and the clock kept striking, and that one speedily dissolving view was the last she ever got of the mammoth turn-overs. How

ever, she with the others had "refreshments" of baked apples and milk, which was a great deal better for them; though here again Trip was not in luck, for no sooner had she tasted her brimming bowl than she exclaimed in dismay, "O, it 's new milk!"

"Yes; don't you like new milk?" asked Huldah's mother.

"Yes, ma'am," said Trip quickly, smothering her disrelish, and permitting her instinct of politeness to get the mastery over her instinct of truth; for she had a great dislike to new milk, or "No I have n't either," she said to her conscience. "It is warm milk, not new milk, that I don't like; so I did n't tell a lie." If you would not get into Trip's trouble, you must not speak out so quickly as Trip. Just say nothing as long as you can, and when you do speak, speak the truth.

As the result of their deliberations, the girls were all set to making roses out of pink tissue-paper, and the boys went down into the swamps and woods after evergreen, and the girls kept saying to Trip, "Don't touch this!" "Don't spoil that!" "Don't come here!". so she betook herself cheerily to the swamps and the boys, and they cried, "Look out, Trip-hammer, you'll slump through!" when she immediately "slumped through"; and after she had scrambled upon thicker ice, and slipped down half a dozen times, somebody would call, "Trip-up, you'll fall if you don't mind." By and by a very sad thing happened; for Asel, high up on a tree after boughs, was too heavy for the branch he stood on, and down it came, bringing him with it. He did not break his leg, but he might as well while he was about it, for it doubled under him and was sadly wrenched, so that he had to be carried home and keep his bed; and Trip cried very hard, for she was very fond of Asel, as she was indeed of nearly every one who took the least notice of her, — and if they took none it was all the same. But never went she into that swamp again as long as she lived.

And the old school-house was all festooned with ground-pine, and hung with hemlock and spruce, and gay with roses, and the children went to school in their best clothes for the "last day." Gerty and Trip had new muslin-delaine dresses, with little plaits on the waist, and little lace ruffles on the throat, very fresh and pretty, though Trip's had had a narrow escape; for when she went to the dressmaker's for her dress, her aunt called and asked her to take home a milk-can almost as large as she was herself. It was empty and light, but rather unwieldy for Trip; so, to simplify matters, she just tucked her new dress into the milk-can and forgot all about it. And next morning, when the milk went in, it did not rattle quite as much as usual, because Trip's new dress was soft! But the dress was speedily taken out and well shaken, and Trip well scolded, which she did not mind at all; and when the dress was on, you never would have suspected it had passed the night in a milk-can, or taken a milk-bath in the morning. "And where 's the harm?" said Jack; "people have watered silks. Why should n't they have milked al-a-pack-ahs?" Stupid Jack, who called all sorts of girls' cloth "Al-a-pack-ah," first misspelling the word and then mispronouncing it with great rapidity. Also Gerty and Trip had beautiful black-silk aprons,