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mischief, for she had just found out that one of the policemen was her first cousin Paddy, from Cork, and she was talking to him about " Mike,” and “ Barney," and the “ould red cow” at home, as if her tongue had been wound up like a watch, and would never stop going for twenty-four hours. So Master Willie, in great glee, trotted round to one of the landing-places, where the pretty pleasure-boats take in passengers. “Now,” said he to himself, picking up a little stick, — “now, when the swan bends down to get the cake, I 'll give her a great crack on the head with my stick.” Then he held out his hand once more, and called in a coaxing voice, “Swanie, swan-ie, come, come and get it."
The swan had followed him, and this time she was so quick that she got a bite at the cake. Willie, with a cry of surprise, drew his arm back, turning suddenly round at the same time. One foot caught in the other; he lost his balance, and before he could recover it, pop ! he went head-first into the water, his legs kicking wildly up in the air as he disappeared. · The swan could have taken a good nip out of those little fat legs, just as well as not, but she was a tender-hearted, or rather tender-breasted old bird, and merely ate the rest of the cake which fell into the lake, close beside her, and laughed a little in her feathers.
But 0, what shrieks and screams and screeches all the nurses and children and ladies and gentlemen set up! The dogs barked, the bumped-headed babies took their thumbs out of their mouths and squealed; and even the lover and loveress, with the dry branch still fast to her skirt, wondered for a moment what all the noise was about; but, as they never took their eyes from each other's face and never stopped thinking each other the pink of perfection, they never found out, and did n't care anyway.
And now Judy came rushing up to the lake, with her eyes as round as an owl's. She looked everywhere for Willie, up in the trees, under the bridge, on top of the bridge, and down the swans' throats, and all but went into flapping hysterics when they told her that the little boy was at the bottom of the lake. She instantly ordered her cousin, the Paddy from Cork, to go in after him, and never come out without him ; and he, making a horrible face, as if he had got his mouth full of mustard, threw off his coat and shoes and jumped in, and the water closed over him.
For a moment there was an awful pause and silence ; all the nurses glared, the babies with their thumbs in their mouths stared, and the lover and loveress did n't speak to each other for half a minute ; the beautiful swans looked on, solemn and sad, though you would think they would have laughed and hurrahed at Willie's mishap, and told each other that it served him just right. The tip-end of the left-hand side of my heart tells me that it did serve him just right, though the rest of my heart is sorry for him. How does your heart feel about it?
The next moment up came Paddy from Cork through the water, blowing and spitting, with his face as red as his hair, — and that was red enough, I assure you. He held Willie fast by his waistband, so that the poor child's head and heels knocked together like a lobster's, though in a lobster's case it is his claws and tail that hit each other when you hold it up. Gasping, sobbing, choking, the little boy was caught up into Judy's arms, who kissed him, and cried over him, and called him her darlint,” though he had done nothing but pinch and punch her all his days.
But the next moment, remembering all of a sudden what a naughty boy he was, she stood him down hard on his feet, and proceeded to scold him furiously. Then all the nurses and children, the bumped-headed babies and dogs, stopped crying and began laughing, for he did look so ridiculous. The water streamed from his hair and his eyelids and his nose and his ears and his elbows and his knees, - quite a waterfall. In another moment Judy caught him by the top of his arm, pinching it well in her fright, and hurried him off home in double-quick step ; and when he got there, he was immediately put to bed, and dosed with castor oil and emetics and brimstone, for aught I know; and his mamma would n't kiss him, which was a worse dose to swallow than all the medicine put together; and that 's what he got by his mean, naughty mischief.
And now what do you think? If you have n't found out by this time the difference between this kind of mischief and good-tempered pranks and capers, then I say you 've got a head and so has a tenpenny nail, and one is just as wise as the other.
But there 's one comfort. If you think hard and long, you will certainly get some ideas into your head, while you may pound the head of a tenpenny nail for six months without making it the least bit sensible ; so when you read some other story, - all about nice, funny mischief, - I am sure you will discover that both stories have been written for examples, — the first to shun, and the second to — I was going to say - to imitate.
Well, never mind. When you and I get together, we will do some nice, funny mischief, and have a "real good time.” Won't we, you dear little monkey bunkey?
NCE I took a picture fair
To my heart and kept it there.
Three small children on their knees,
What, beside those faces three,
Unto little children here
Mrs. A. M. Wells. THE FRENCH EXPOSITION FOR TWENTY CENTS.
ARIS, as many of my young readers, perhaps, already know, is the
most beautiful city in the world. Its parks and public gardens are so numerous, and its avenues so pleasantly shaded with trees, that the country seems to have come on a visit to the city; and then the churches, and houses, and grand public buildings that one sees at every turn are so various and splendid as to remind one of the descriptions in a fairy tale. The very bridges over the river Seine, which flows through Paris, are a show in themselves, and it would take more space to describe them than I have at my command here.
One large piece of open ground in Paris has long been known as the Champ de Mars, which, in English, means “ Field of Mars.” Among the ancient Romans Mars was supposed to be the God of War, and it was upon this field that reviews of soldiers and military displays of all kinds used to be held. Here, now, is a picture showing the Champ de Mars as it used to appear on such occasions. Near the background the Emperor's tent is seen, and there are large bodies of troops and artillery ranged over the plain ; for Louis Napoleon, the Emperor of the French, is a man of war as well as a man of peace, and he loves to indulge himself and the people, now and then, with the pomp and glitter of military parades.
But the picture, as I have said, shows the Champ de Mars as it used to be, and not as it appears now. Some two or three years ago it occurred to the Emperor of the French that this field might be converted to some better purpose than that of a parade-ground for soldiers ; and so he had it trans
formed into a beautiful park, one part of which is occupied by an immense exhibition building, while the rest of it is laid out in lovely gardens and ornamental grounds. And all the civilized nations of the earth — yes, and some that are not so very civilized either — were invited to bring specimens of their manufactures, and of the products of their countries, to this great building, in which arrangements were made for showing them off to the best advantage. They were also allowed to build houses and palaces in the park, each nation after its own manner. Numbers of such buildings are to be seen in the park ; so that you can fancy how instructive as well as interesting it is to ramble through it, observing the strange dresses and manners and customs of nations which but few of us have ever before had an opportunity of studying.
Imagine yourself now with me in Paris. We arrive at one of the grand entrances leading to the park of which I have just been speaking, and, on payment of one franc each, - a franc is just about twenty cents in American money, we obtain admission to the grounds, through which we find ourselves at liberty to ramble at our will, as well as to enter the great exhibition building itself, in which so many curious and interesting objects are to be seen. Yon tall tower there, in the grounds, is a lighthouse, the lantern belonging to which has been removed, and is placed inside of the exhibition building, where it forms a great attraction from its wonderful brilliancy and curious workmanship. The light inside this lantern, of which here you have a picture, shines out with extraordinary brightness through panes composed of innumerable little pieces of glass, which sparkle like diamonds in the rays of light. Well, numbers of people are streaming toward the tall tower. We follow them, and, ascending to the platform at the top, see, what a grand view lies stretched away far below and far around us ! First we look down on the park, with its beautiful buildings and gardens, and the people swarming about them like busy ants. Paris is at our feet, with the gleaming river and the wooded slopes beyond. This picture shows the exhibition building as it appears from the top of the tower. It consists of seven oval galleries built one within another, the outer one being nearly a mile round. The galleries are walled and roofed with glass, and each of them is appropriated to the display of some particular kinds of arts and manufactures. Inside of the inner oval there is a promenade garden, of which we shall see more by and by.