INTRODUCED TO THE ATLANTIC OCEAN.

OW for it, girls! Let me introduce you to the Atlantic Ocean! Mr. Ocean, these are my three cousins from Kentucky: Miss Jenny, Miss Eva, and Miss Kate Logan. They never saw you till today. This lady on my left is my sister, Miss Dora Drake, the best swimmer at Brant Rock Beach; but her you know already, also my dog Andy."

"Oh! I don't want to go any further. I'm afraid of the Atlantic Ocean," cried little Kate Logan.

"Nonsense!" said Master Tom Drake. "Look at Andy with the stick in his mouth. Why, if the Atlantic Ocean were to try to drown us, Andy would save us every one. Shall I tell you what he did last summer?"

"We can't stop for stories now, Tom," said sister Dora. "We must attend to our bathing. Here comes a wave that will give us a good ducking."

"Oh! oh, dear! It has taken my breath all away!" cried little Kate, as the wave lifted her off her feet and curled and gurgled round her neck.

"It is only the Atlantic Ocean making a bow to you, my dear; clasping you lovingly round the neck, and whispering soft nonsense," said Tom, dropping the hands of Eva and Kate, and swimming off into deep water with Andy.

Jenny and Eva did not know how to swim: so they jumped up and down in the water, while Dora took Kate on her back, and swam out after Tom. She soon overtook him and pushed his head under water; but Tom came up light as a cork, and splashed the water all over Dora.

"That will do, Tom," said she; "now, Andy, come here, and take this little girl on your back and carry her up on the dry sand."

Then Dora placed Kate on the good dog's back, and the little girl threw her arms round his neck, and he swam with her through the deep water, and carried her up high on the dry, warm sand, where a lady and gentleman were seated, and another lady stood with a sun-shade over her head.

But when Kate saw Tom and the girls all frolicking in the water, she cried out, "Oh, give me more of the Atlantic Ocean. I like him."

She ran down to the water's edge, and into the water all alone; but Andy stood by to help her in case of need, and when she fell down flat, and the ocean covered her head, he took her up by her bathing-dress, and bore her once more up on the dry sand.

All laughed, and little Kate laughed louder than any of them. "The Atlantic Ocean didn't get me that time," she said.

I cannot tell you of all their frolics; but you may be sure that the little party from Kentucky grew quite familiar with the Atlantic Ocean after this introduction. Every day they would leave their little cottage on the height, and walk along the white sand in their bathing-dresses till they found a good place for bathing. Tom and Andy always went with them to protect them from harm.

When Jenny, Eva, and Kate get back to Kentucky, next September, what stories they will have to tell of the pleasant times they had at Brant Rock Beach! It lies not far from the town of Marshfield in Massachusetts. Perhaps you can find the name on your map.

Ida Fay.





What sort of insects are a-phi´des? In plain English they are plant-lice. When about to pluck a rose-bud, have you not started sometimes to find it covered with little green insects? These are aphides. They suck the sap from the bud on the leaf; and every person who raises a rose-bush seeks to get rid of them. The little insect called the lady-bird destroys them in great numbers: so you must encourage lady-birds, if you want your roses to flourish. Most of us have heard of honey-dew, and know, probably, that it is a sweet, clammy substance, found on the leaves of various trees and plants, especially on the oak, the vine, the hop, and the honeysuckle. This honey-dew is extracted with the sap, secreted, and then thrown out in a pure state by the aphides. Besides the sweets which they scatter around them like sugar-plums, they always keep a good supply within the green jars of their bodies. By this lavish use of confectionery, they gain a few interested friends and some enemies like the lady-birds, that eat them up.

Wherever the aphides abound, whether in hop-ground, bean-field, or rose-garden, there are lady-birds gathered together, and they are welcomed by the cultivator, if not by the aphis. (Aphis is the singular noun, and aphides its plural form.) But enough of aphis enemies, and now for the friends, which, as well as foes, they owe to the sweet milk—the honey-dew—which they give out. So these friends, you see, are fair-weather friends, interested friends; and among them are several varieties of the ant tribe.

The ants do not hurt the aphides, but follow them for what they can get out of them. They are continually seen in company; and the ants sometimes drive off the lady-birds and other foes.

The aphis, when attacked by its mortal foe the lady-bird, submits with a good grace. Never did Turk bend his neck to the bow-string, or rush upon the cimeter with greater courage, than the aphis submits itself to the murderous jaws of its devouring foes. It seems quite at ease, and enjoys life to the last bite or sup, while its companions are being killed, and their carcasses heaped up around it. It evidently thinks it is right to die quietly, like a great-minded little insect.

Uncle Charles.