When the other side went in again, Tom made more effort to follow the game and catch the ball; but he knew nothing of cricket, and was wearing his ordinary walking-boots. The grass was dry and slippery, and Tom was clumsy. He was chasing the ball, and thought he should really succeed in catching it this time, when his foot slipped and he fell heavily on the grass. He had broken his leg!

The boys who had laughed before were now full of sympathy. He was at once taken into the house and the doctor sent for. What poor Tom suffered for the rest of that day and all the night, only those who have broken a leg can tell, and added to his pain was the feeling that he had shown all Allan's friends what a boastful fellow he was.

The Swallows' Song. "Tweet! tweet! tweet!" the swallows say,
"It is time we flew away
Far across the pathless sea,
For it winter soon will be!
Then will fall the rustling leaves,
And our nests beneath the eaves
Will be very damp and chill,
While the fogs our playgrounds fill."
"Tweet! tweet! tweet!" the swallows say,
"It is time we flew away!"
"Tweet! tweet! tweet!" the swallows cry,
As they circle far on high,
Gathering thickly overhead
Now that summer days have fled.
"See!" they say, "the flow'rets fair
Now are drooping ev'rywhere,
And no more the scented breeze
Roves amid the leafy trees!"
"Tweet! tweet! tweet!" the swallows say,
"It is time we flew away!"
"Tweet! tweet! tweet!" Alas! we hear
All you utter, swallows dear!
And, if it indeed must be,
Take your flight across the sea
But do not your friends forget,
They who lose you with regret,
And to us all swiftly wing
When appear the flowers of Spring!
"Tweet! tweet! tweet!" the swallows say,
"We will come again in May!"
E. Oxenford.

[ LINK TO ILLUSTRATED PAGE]

HIS FIRST KNIFE AND FORK.

Stevie could hardly believe his eyes. But it was true, quite true, all the same for that, and he opened his blue eyes wider and wider till mother laughed and kissed them, and lifted him up into his high chair, saying, "Yes, Stevie, they are yours, your very own, and grandpa sent them to you because he remembered your birthday." Such a beautiful, sweet-smelling leather case it was, lined with purple velvet, and inside it a silver fork with a pretty "S" on the handle, and a knife that would really cut. His first knife and fork! Oh, how Stevie had longed for them! And now that they had come, his very own, he felt quite a man, almost like father.

"Stevie must learn to handle them nicely, ready to show grandpa when he comes. Not that way, pet! Let the back of the blade look up to the ceiling, like little birdies after they drink, and keep the sharp edge down to the plate, and then little fingers won't be cut."