a broad belt covered with yellow hair, in which he had stuck a couple of pistols and a knife. "And see," he added, "what I have made for the dogs. Here, Juno! Turk!" The dogs came bounding up at his call, and I saw that they were each supplied with a collar of the same skin, in which were fastened nails, which bristled round their necks in a most formidable manner, making an excellent shield against the attack of wild animals. "Very good, my boy!" said I; "but where did you get your materials, and who helped you?" "I helped him with the sewing," said my wife; "Fritz's jackal supplied us with the skin, and the needles and thread came out of my wonderful bag." My wife then returned to the tent to prepare supper, for it was now drawing toward evening. The boys and I meanwhile continued our work of unloading, and when it was finished and our cargo and herd of animals were all safely brought off, we sat down to our meal. It was very unlike the first supper we had there. My wife had made a table of a board laid on two casks, and spread upon it a white damask tablecloth, on which were placed knives, forks, spoons, and plates. A tureen of soup first appeared, followed by a good omelette, then slices of ham, and finally some Dutch cheese. Butter and biscuits completed the meal. While we thus feasted, I related our adventures on the wreck. THE WATER-LILY JAMES JEFFREY ROCHE In the slimy bed of a sluggish mere And the slender stem that upward grew Was coarse of fibre and dull of hue, The gelid fish that floated near The water snake with his lidless eye,- But the butterfly and the honeybee, They marked its heart of virgin gold So the fragrant soul in its purity, May bloom to heaven, and no man know, Seeing the coarse, vile stem below, How God hath seen the crown. "Your husband is very ill. Come at once. "S. Hale, "Blank Hospital, Washington." How still the room was as they listened breathlessly, and how suddenly the whole world seemed to change, as the girls gathered about their mother. Mrs. March read the message over, and in a tone they never forgot said, "I shall go at once, but it may be too late." Then turning to Laurie, she said, "Leave a note at Aunt March's. Jo, give me the pen and paper." Jo drew the table before her mother, well knowing the money for the long, sad journey must be borrowed, and feeling as if she could do anything to add a little to the sum for her father. Then she went out to buy several articles her mother needed for the journey. The short afternoon wore away, but Jo did not return. They began to get anxious, and Laurie went off to find her. He missed her, however, and she came walking in with a very queer expression of countenance, for there was a mixture of fun and fear, satisfaction and regret, in it, which puzzled the family as much as did the roll of bills she laid before her mother, saying, with a little choke in her voice, "That's my contribution towards making father comfortable and bringing him home!" "My dear, where did you get it? Twenty-five dollars! Jo, I hope you haven't done anything rash?" "No, it's mine honestly; I didn't beg, borrow, or steal it. I earned it; and I don't think you'll blame me, for I only sold what was my own." As she spoke, Jo took off her bonnet, and a general outcry arose, for all her abundant hair was cut short. "Your hair! Your beautiful hair!" "O Jo, how could you? Your one beauty." "My dear girl, there was no need of this." "She doesn't look like my Jo any more, but I love her dearly for it!" As every one exclaimed, and Beth hugged the cropped head tenderly, Jo assumed an indifferent air, which did not deceive any one a particle, and said, rumpling up the brown bush, and trying to look as if she liked it: "It doesn't affect the fate of the nation, so don't wail, Beth. It will be good for my vañity; I was getting too proud of my wig. It will do my brains good to have that mop taken off; my head feels deliciously light and cool, and |