When the sails of a ship are filled with wind, they are said to be drawing or full. A good sailor is never so happy as when with a whole-sail breeze he sees all his canvas spread and drawing, and feels himself "off before it."
[THE BROKEN VASE.]
BY MRS. W. H. SNYDER.
"Now," said Mary, impatiently, as she came in from school, "I shall have to draw another hateful old design, for she wouldn't accept the one I took in this morning. She said it was drawn carelessly, and that I hadn't followed her directions, and that I had made thick lines, and hadn't properly erased my guide lines. She was ever so hard to please, and I hate her."
"I am sorry to see my little girl in such a bad humor to-day," said mother. "I thought I heard her say this morning that Miss Jones was 'so nice.'"
"Oh yes, but she isn't always nice. She's dreadfully particular sometimes—at least with me. She was pleasant enough to Jenny Kirkland and Clara Sackett, and she almost always says to those two girls, 'You have done very well, and you deserve a great deal of credit.' And to make matters worse, Miss Howland had to go and say, 'Mary, you must bring in a better design to-morrow, or I shall have to discredit you.' Well, I'll bring her in a design to-morrow," and she added, in an under-tone, "I'll just copy it off of grandpa's old Nantgru vase." So saying, she approached the table upon which stood the vase, with a few flowers in it tastefully arranged, and throwing her hat and books petulantly down, the corner of her geography struck the vase, and it fell upon the floor, and was shattered into half a dozen pieces.
Emma and Walter, hearing the crash, hastened in.
"See what I have done!" said Mary, sitting down upon a chair with tears in her eyes, and holding up a portion of the broken vase. "I am so sorry that I have broken dear grandpa's vase."
"And grandpa will be sorry too," said Emma, "for he highly prizes his vase. Grandpa"—as the old gentleman walked feebly into the room—"Mary has broken your vase, and she is very sorry."