On they rowed, and at last came up with the boat. Still no Walter was to be seen. The poor father was in despair, when all at once Walter started up from under the great blanket, where he had been hiding. He cried out, "Here I am, papa, safe and sound!"
"Oh, you little rogue! Come here and let me pull your ears!" They all got back to their home in time for a late tea, which mother had kept warm for them. Walter was kissed and then cuffed; but the cuffs were so tender, that they made him laugh even more than the kisses.
ALFRED STETSON.
"FLUTTER, FLUTTER!"
Flutter, flutter, with never a stop,
All the leaves have begun to drop;
While the wind, with a skip and a hop,
Goes about gathering in his crop.
Flutter, flutter, on bustling wings,
All the plump little feathered things:
Thrush and bobolink, finch and jay,
Follow the sun on his holiday.
Flutter, flutter, the snowflakes all
Jostle each other in their fall,
Crowd and push into last year's nest,
And hide the seeds from robin-redbreast.
Flutter, flutter, the hours go by;
Nobody sees them as they fly;
Nobody hears their fairy tread,
Nor the rustle of their wings instead.
MARY N. PRESCOTT.