Mr. Strong carried little Alice home in triumph on his shoulder, where she was kissed and cried over again, and Mr. Strong was thanked for saving her.
The black snake might not have bitten her, but it might have squeezed such a little thing to death, so Mr. Strong and another gentleman went back, and poked the snake out of the hollow tree, and killed it; and, finding Nancy patiently waiting for some one to come for her, they brought her back to the arms of her cunning little mother. And after this, funny little Alice never went out without her nurse.
We must bid her good-bye now, because this story is long enough; but some day I will tell you more about her.
“PRETTY,” AND HER VIOLIN.
BY HOLME MAXWELL.
FELICE was a servant. She was just twenty years old, but she was like a child in our land. She talked a little, soft, broken English; our words were very, very hard for her fine, pretty Italian lips to manage. She was tall, and extremely refined and delicate; every one admits this now, but her little girl-mistress saw it at a glance, as Felice came in behind papa, pausing, tall and slender, with her exquisite brown hair and brown eyes, to be addressed.
“Here is your mistress,” said the papa to Felice, indicating the young girl dressed in white. “She is the little woman of the house, and will tell you about your duties.”