CRACKERS FOR CHRISTMAS.

I.

THE OGRE'S CAVE.

THERE was once a little boy named Cecil, who had blue eyes, light hair, a comfortable home, and an adventurous disposition. The two former were very good things to have, the third ought to have made him both happy and thankful, and the fourth was pretty sure to get him into trouble. And so it did. Instead of being happy and thankful in his comfortable home, Cecil was always wanting to see the world, and know more of its goings on. He was not content to sit still in the school-room and learn the lessons which boys and girls have to learn before they know enough to face the outer world, but he was too much inclined to think lessons altogether a bore, and to fancy that he could get on quite well without them. Poor little man! it was just like a child trying to run before he knows how to stand alone, or a little bird wishing to fly before he has proved and tried the strength of his young wings-both are pretty sure to have a tumble, and it is well indeed if no bones are broken. A spirit of in

and

quiry is a good thing in a boy, but then it should be accompanied by a spirit of obedience to those who are set over him, and a desire to learn in the way by the means provided for him. And the boy or girl who hates regular lessons and tries to learn only in his or her own way, and according to the fancy of the moment, is pretty sure to get into some scrape or another before long. So you will see it was with Master Cecil, and the story I am going to tell you will be a useful lesson to all young gentlemen who are of a self-willed and conceited spirit.

It happened that Cecil's papa and mamma had taken a house by the sea-side, that the children might have some bathing; and fine fun there was to be had, too, on the shore-picking up shells and building castles of sand and pebbles, and making trenches up to the castle, which the tide would wash away when it came in, and leave behind no more traces of them than old Time makes of the castles in the air which people are so fond of building, and which generally come to nothing after all. Cecil was very fond of playing on the sea-shore, and joining in games with the other children, but he also liked to steal off alone and play by himself; and although he had been told that he must never touch the boats which the sailors had left, drawn up high and dry on the beach, I am sorry to say that he paid no attention to what was said to him; but if there were no sailors near, he was pretty sure to climb into the first boat he could find, pull all the things about, and have a regular game all by himself. One day it happened that he had got a half-holiday given him—or taken one for himself, I am not sure which— and, as usual, he crept off to the beach as quickly and as

quietly as possible, and looked about him for amusement. There were several boats scattered about here and there, but there was one, rather smaller than the rest, not far from the edge of the water, and so tempting to a mischievous boy, that, without thinking twice about it, Cecil tumbled into it, and began to turn everything topsy-turvy. Presently he jumped out again, and seeing that the boat was fastened by a rope to a post on the beach, nothing would serve him but to try his new knife on the rope, and this he did to such good purpose, that he cut it asunder in a very short time. Then he climbed into the boat again, and played till he was quite tired, and thought he would make a bed of a sailor's great, rough coat which he found in a corner of the boat, and play at going to bed. His play, however, soon turned into real earnest, for in a few moments he fell fast asleep, and slept as sound as any little boy that ever was born. At last he woke up with a start, and sat upright. Where was he? Where, indeed!

he

Whilst he slept the tide had come in, and the boat had floated out to sea. I don't know what the sailors could have been about to have left their boat so long, so that it is not the slightest use to ask me. I only know that out to sea the boat went, and carried Cecil with it. And when he sat up and rubbed his eyes, was, as you may suppose, pretty considerably astonished to find that he was in such a condition. How long he had been asleep he could not tell, but it must have been for a long time, since not only was the beach out of sight, but the boat was close in upon another shore, and that, too, quite unlike the land which he had quitted. Great mountains sloped down close to the sea,

covered with palm-trees larger than any which Cecil had ever seen. On the narrow ridge of sand, between the foot of the mountains and the sea, huge masses of rock were scattered about as if they had been torn off at some time or other from the crags above, and hurled down with a mighty hand upon the place where they now lay. There was a barren, desolate look about the place, very different from the cheerful, friendly beach which he had left behind, and Cecil did not like the prospect at all. However, there was no help for it. The boat was slowly, but surely, drifting towards a point at which the foot of the mountain jutted out into the sea, and in another moment she would certainly be ashore. But as the boat almost touched the rock, the boy, who had crept to the further end, gave a little push against the rock, which turned her round, and she floated in another instant on the other side of the point, in a kind of small bay, which Cecil at once perceived. But this was not all he perceived. To his horror and astonishment, close to him, having waded into the water until it was as high as his knees, stood an enormous man. His large head, prominent and sharp teeth, hooked nose, cruel eyes, and general appearance, unmistakeably proclaimed the ogre, and Cecil, who had risen to his feet as the boat rounded the corner, sank upon his knees perfectly speechless with terror. It was useless, however, to think of escape: the monster was apparently waiting for the wretched boy, and making a short step forward, he drew the boat close to him, and exclaimed in a voice which sounded like the thunder at a distance, when you hear it muttering, miles off, over the hills,

'Break my shin-bone, if this isn't lucky! The brat