In the afternoon A".ot Nell invited Beth to call on Granma Dole with her.
"There! I nearly forgot my umbrella." laughed her aunt, " but 1 guess the sun would have reminded me of it before we had gone very far." " Would you like to carry it ?" asked A ant Nell, thoughtfully. " P'raps you'd—better—to-day," stam mered Beth, without looking up. " Why, what can be the matter f" ex claimed Aunt Nell, curiously, as she spread her umbrella " Moths ?"

The tine silk top looked like a miniature black sky crowded with irregular oblong stars, there were so many little holes in the dainty fabric. '* I guess the thorns must have '—and Beth's lips quivered and she looked so woe begone!

" Why, Beth dear, ' began Aunt Nell, inquiringly. " I used for—my —berry-picker, and the thorns must have done it," confessed Beth.
" I'm sorry my little girl took it without permission. But,' continued Aunt Nell, gently, " the ribs an I handle are uninjured so I think I can get it recovered." '" Auntie, I'll never, never born<w again without asking; and mayn't I keep one of those little holes for a 'membranee, so I won't forget ?" asked Beth, smiling through her tear-.
AT HOME.
Old fireside, I'm thine to-night, Lt-t snapping logs burn clear and bright Old smoking jacket how I bless This sweet release from evening dress.
My faithful brier, with amber stem, Lead me to fancy's boundless realm; \t> need to shun thee, lest perchance She'll note thy fragrance in the dance.
My warm .Sentch friend, the kettle sings, To id nitrate thy fiery stings: Now Ovid, tell me tales of Home— No cards are oat for this " at home."

TOLD BY THE HAIR.
