At my summer home, the very coolest and pleasantest spot to be found on a hot day is a grassy knoll, shaded by a great tree.  Close by is the horse-trough, which is supplied with water from the well a few rods off.  One sultry day, my little boy and I went to play under the shade of this tree.  The trough was full of clean, sparkling water, and I lingered there even after the two horses, “Cherry” and “Dash,” had been brought out and tied to the tree; for they, too, had found their house uncomfortable, and had begged with their expressive eyes to be taken out-of-doors.

Now, the water in the trough looked very tempting, and soon my boy Willy put his little hand in, and then rolling up his sleeve, plunged in his arm and began to splash the water, throwing it around, wetting us all, horses included.  We left the tree, and were going into the house, when we heard a loud thumping, and splashing; turning round, we saw Cherry, with his fore-leg in the trough, knocking his great iron shoe against the side of it, sending the water flying in all directions, and making the water in the trough all black and muddy.  Now, these horses had drunk from this trough three times a day for two months, and spent many a morning under that very tree, and it had never occurred to either of them to play such a trick until they had seen Willy do it.

Willy was so much pleased that he gave Cherry several lumps of sugar to reward him for his naughtiness; but James, the coachman, took a different view, and gave him a sound scolding, and I am afraid whipped him; although I protested that Willy was more to blame than poor Cherry, who had only imitated his little master.

    C.C.B.

THREE SPIDERS.

Another enemy to my friends the birds!  This time it’s a spider.  He lives near the Amazon River, they tell me, builds a strong web across a deep hole in a tree, and waits at the back of the hole until a bird or a lizard is caught in the meshes.  Then out he pounces, and kills his prey by poison.  And yet this dreadful creature has a body only an inch and a half in length!

Then there’s a spider named Kara-Kurt, who lives in Turkestan; and, though he is no bigger than a finger-nail, he can jump several feet.  He hides in the grass, and his bite is poisonous; but I’m glad to say he doesn’t kill birds.

In the same country is a long-legged spider, who has long hair and a body as big as a hen’s egg.  When he walks he seems as large as a man’s double fists.  What a fellow to meet on a narrow pathway!  I think most people would be polite enough to let him have the whole of the walk.  Little Miss Muffett would have been scared out of her senses if such a huge spider had “sat down beside her.”

SPECIAL DISPATCH.

The Little Schoolma’am says Thomson didn’t say “Hail, gentle Spring!” He said, “Come, gentle Spring!” Dear, dear!  I beg his pardon.  But, like as not, some other poet said it, if Thomson didn’t.  Or perhaps they’ve sung so much about Spring that March, taking it all to herself, thinks she may as well blow her own trumpet, too.