t that had come from the colonies, a big creature came out o

ffee. The sunbeams pierced the roof, which was of a coarse straw-colored material, and the warm breeze that stirred the leaves of the trees about us made the sunlight dance as it fell upon our faces and aprons. (During at least two summers it had been our favorite amusement to build, in isolated nooks, houses like the one described in Robinson Crusoe, and thus hidden away we would sit together and chat.) In the story of the little girl who was bitten by the big creature this phrase, "a very large fruit from the colonies," had suddenly plunged me

" by Madame Ulliac-Tremadeure; the book was one of my New Year's gifts, and I read some parts of i

was curious enough to hunt in the little yellow, faded book for that picture, and truly I wonder how that illustration had the

awoke in my mind at the sound of these words? A fruit from the

s. In one of her mamma's bureau drawers I had seen quaint necklaces of fragrant berries; in the garret, where we sometimes rummaged, we found skins of ani

ith roses and jasmine. And the very old pomegranate tree growing there spread its branches

from one hous

with you?" I would ask.

an answer always grieved me a great deal; but I must confess that it was more on account o

had very little charm for her, indeed she scarcely remembered them. I would have given everything I possessed in the

s! that in my life as minister, live as long as I mi