again. Shall he beat me in everything?' I said to myself, and with a great spring I caught up to him, and seized his jacket. Then began a struggle. Bernard cried 'fair play,' and tried to throw me off, but I was very angry, and strong as a young tiger, and all of a sudden-for I didn't know what I was about—I just flung him with all my might right over the edge, where the railing was half broken down.” "Oh dear! Oh dear!" cried little Prue, bursting into tears, "did it kill him?"

A merry laugh from Bernard, followed by a hearty chorus from the rest, restored bewildered little Prue to her senses. But Dudley went on very soberly

"Bernard screamed as he went over, and with that scream [all my anger died out in a minute, and I sat down on the stairs, shaking from head to foot. Then I listened, but I didn't hear a sound. I don't know how long I sat there, but at last I got up very slowly, and began to come down just like an old man. It was so dreadfully still in the old castle, that I felt in a queer way, as f I must be very careful, too, and I stepped on my tip-toes and held my breath. When I got to the foot, I felt as if a big hand held my heart tight, and when I tried to walk towards the spot where I thought Bernard must have fallen, I could not move astep. But after a great while-it seemed like a year—I managed to drag myself to the place, and do you know no one was there."

"Why, where could he be?" cried the astonished child

ren.

66

Well, I thought he might have fallen, and rolled off under the stairs into that dreadful vault."

"Oh, don't have him get in there, please,” cried tender little Prue.

"Then," said Dudley, slowly, "I leaned over the vault, and called his name, 'Bernard! Bernard!' and then I jumped back. and almost screamed, for I thought some other boy had spoken, I did not know my own voice, it

sounded so strange and solemn. But no one answered, and I dragged myself away, feeling as if that awful hand grew tighter on my heart, and thinking, as I went out of the door, how two of us went in, and why I was coming out alone. Then I sat down on the grass, and, though it was warm summer weather, I shivered from head to foot, and I remember thinking to myself, "This queer boy sitting here isn't Dudley Wylde; this boy couldn't get angry, he's as cold as an icicle; and Dudley Wylde's heart used to beat, beat, Oh! so lively and quick, but this boy's heart is under a great weight, and will never stir again; this boy will never run again, nor laugh, nor care for anything; this boy isn't, he can't be Dudley Wylde;' and I felt so sorry for him I almost cried. Then, all of a sudden, I remember, 1 began to work very hard. I picked up stones out of the path, and carried them a great way off, and worked till 1 was just ready to drop. Then I took some flowers, and picked them all to pieces-so curious to see how they were put together, and I worked at that till I was nearly wild with headache. Then I sat very still, and wondered if that boy who wasn't, couldn't be Dudley Wylde, was ever going home, and then I thought that perhaps if he sat there a little while longer he would die, and that was the best thing that could happen to him, for then he would never hear any one say,- Where is Bernard?' So I sat there in this queer way, waiting for the boy to die, when I heard a noise, and, looking up, saw—”

"Oh, what?" cried little Prue, clasping her hands, griffin, with claws?"

66 a

But Dudley could not speak, and Bernard went on. "It's too bad for 'Dud' to tell that story, when he makes himself so much worse than he really was. I was as much to blame as he in that quarrel, and I ought to have had my share of the misery. You see, when he threw me over, my tippet caught on the rough edge of the railing, and held me just a minute, but that minute saved me, for in some way, I

hardly know how, I swung in and dropped safely on the steps just under 'Dud.' Then I hurried into one of those queer little places in the wall, and hid, for I was angry, and meant to give him a good fright; and as I happened to have a little book in my pocket, I began to read, and got so interested that I forgot everything till it began to grow dark. Then I hurried down, wondering that everything was so stiil. But when I saw Dud,'" said he, turning with an affectionate glance to his cousin, "I was frightened, for he was so changed I hardly knew him, and I was afraid he was dying. So I ran to him, and took him right in my arms, and called him every dear name I could think of, but he only stared at me, with the biggest, wildest eyes, you ever saw. 'Dud,' said I, 'dear fellow, what is the matter, don't you know me? Then all of a sudden he burst out crying. O girls you never cried like that, and I hope you never will,―great big sobs, and I helped him. Then he flung his arms tight around my neck, and kissed me for the first time in his life-kissed me over and over, my cheeks and my hair and my hands, and then he laughed and right in the midst, cried as if his heart would break, and I began to understand that poor Dud' thought he had killed me. No one knows how long we laughed and cried, [and kissed each other, but when we grew a little calmer we went back into the old castle, and on the very steps where we had our quarrel, we knelt down, holding each other's hands, and promised always to love each other, and try to keep down our wicked tempers."

"And we asked some one to help us to keep the resolu tion," said Dudley, gently.

66

"Well, how is it?" said little Prue with a bewildered air, was it you and Dud' that went and knelt on the steps to pray?"

"Yes' Dud' and I."

"Well then, what became of that other wicked boy that wasn't Dudley Wylde at all?”

Another shout covered poor Prue with confusion, as Bernard answered

"Would you believe it, you dear little Prue, we have never seen anything of him from that day to this.-Family Treasury.

Gertie's Party.

66

ERTIE was ten years old, and thought she was old enough to have a party. Every other girl did," she said, and she tired mamma with teasing about it.

At last Mrs. Clay put on her thinkingcap, and sat so long that Gertie recited the multiplication table backward at least twice.

"You may have your party, Gertie," her mamma said at last, "or rather you may come to one that I will have for you next Wednesday afternoon, and invite any ten little girls that you would like to have come also, only you are not to ask a question until then about it."

Wednesday came, and so did Gertie and her friend Mabel Seal, and nine other little girls, all dressed as nicely as careful mammas thought best; and, last of all, came Mrs. Clay also,

"And I want "For it is my party you know," she said. to tell you a story to begin with." Nobody objected to that, of course, and a good many white handkerchiefs crept up to the faces as they heard of a poor little home in their city that the fire had stolen into a few nights before and eaten up everything, even to the few clothes they had, and scorch

a poor little baby's face and hands before its mamma could get it out.

"And I thought," said Mrs. Clay, "I would make some clothes for the poor baby to-day, and if any of you wanted to help me you could."

In a few minutes the little brass thimbles Mrs. Clay provided were fitted on, and tapping against needles that were running up sleeves, making cord, or hemming.

What a busy two hours that was before tea, and then by eight o'clock they could hardly believe that a little dress, two aprons, and a baby's gown were really finished, and their work, too. For by this time Mrs. Clay was one of them, she had told so many pleasant stories.

"Better than a dancing party, ever so much," they all said.

"Come next Saturday afternoon and I will tell you about the baby," said Mrs. Clay.

They came, and when they found the baby there, and bright in the new dress and apron, in spite of the burned face, they adopted it at once, and Gertie's party grew into the " Busy Bees" who make honey for some poor baby every Wednesday. By honey I mean clothes for the body, and comfort for the heart, and they are learning what the dear Saviour meant when He said, "It is more blessed to give than to receive."

ANGELS AND BOYS.

Varieties.

"I want to be an angel," Bobby kept singing, at the top of his voice, except when

he was teasing the cat, spilling his milk, contradicting Bridget, or making mudpies; "I want to be an an