friend, said Mr. Grash's Cat. feel so ashamed of myself. should ever"

"You make me

To think that I

"Not another word," said Mr. Frome's Cat, raising his paw playfully. "A high wall shall not separate us, who are neighbors. Hark!" At that moment the cook opened the gate, and both cats at once ran in. The gate was shut after them, and so nothing more could be seen. But something was heard. It was a sort of scraping sound on a tin pan.

GOOD AND BAD APPLES.

THERE was a little apple-tree near the gar den wall, which was called Rob's apple-tree, because it was set out on the very day when he was five years old, and he himself with his own little spade helped fill in the earth round the roots, and stamped it down, while Quick, his dog, barked at him.

"You needn't laugh, Quick," said he, " for I am to have all the apples that grow on this tree;" and then he ran off to quarrel with Quick, for they both liked that exceedingly. Not far from the tree was the plaster statue of a young man leaning on a hoe, Old Hoe, as Rob called him, though he was not so very old, and yet he leaned with such a wise air, and looked abroad so seriously, that it was generally said in the garden, It is Old Hoe who has scraped up the earth everything grows because he made the ground ready and now he has nothing to do but to watch the trees and flowers, and think about them;" and

when Rob and Quick and the gardener were gone, Old Hoe thought aloud as usual:

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So, here is a new-comer, and it is to bear. apples is it? It has a very serious task before it. It takes a great deal to make an apple. It must rain just so often, and the sun must shine just so many days, and the wind must not blow too hard, and it must not hail when the blossoms come. It is a wonder that there are ever any apples at all; and then, they are picked and put in a basket. Seems to me it is hardly worth while to go through so many troubles, just to be picked and put in a basket."

asked the young not answer; he

"But what am I to do?" apple-tree. Old Hoe did never was known to join in talk with others. The world might hear, if it liked, when he spoke out, but he had too many thoughts in his head to allow him merely to make conversation. The sun shone, the rain fell, the wind blew, there was hail and snow and ice, and by and by six blossoms came upon the little appletree; and after the blossoms came just two apples, for the other four blossoms came to nothing. Two rosy apples! the little tree was very proud of them.

"Ah! two apples," said Old Hoe one day;

"they are not very large either. Seems to me it is rather a small affair for the wind, and the sun, and the rain, and this apple-tree, to work so hard and only make two apples. Why should not everything make everything bigger than itself?" and Old Hoe stared down the garden. A hen just then laid an egg under the hedge, and was off telling her neighbors. "Now that hen made an egg," Old Hoe went on; "but seems to me the egg ought to have made the hen." He was puzzled, but nobody would suspect it, for he looked very grave. The little apple-tree, meanwhile, was lifting up her head bravely, and holding out her two apples at arm's length, on opposite sides, so that they could not well see each other. They could talk, however, though they had not much to say. They were twins.

"Brother," said One to the Other, "how do you grow to-day? Do you feel pretty mellow ? "

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"I can't yet feel very warm," said the Other, "but then the sun is not very high. How delightful it is to be getting riper every day. I only hope we shall not be picked too soon. I should like to be perfectly ripe first."

"Well, brother," said One, with hesitation, "I-I do not perfectly agree with you. I be

gin to think that we have made a little mistake, and that there is something besides getting ripe and being picked and put in a basket. In fact," said he, speaking more confidently, "I know that there is something better, for I am already beginning to enjoy it."

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"Why, how can that be ?" asked the Other. "We get the sun and the air and the sap, and so we grow warm and ripe. Come! is there anything better? what is your secret?"

"It is not easily told," said One, mysteriously, "but you shall hear something. Yesterday afternoon, as I was beginning to dread the night, I heard something on the twig, and pretty soon felt it on my stem; it came slowly down until it was firmly on me. • Who may you be?' said I, a little angrily, I must confess. Do not be disturbed, good sir,' said a soft voice; I am a friend come to visit you. You will be the better for me, I assure you. I am Tid, the worm.' I had never heard of him before, but he was so soft and comfortable in his ways, that I knew he was a friend at once, and so I welcomed him. It is lonely enough here,' said I, for my brother never can come to see me, and my only amusement is when the wind blows, and I get a chance to rock back and forth and that is sometimes a little

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