So Ranier and Isaure were married, and lived long and happily; and, on the death of Dagobert, Ranier reigned.  As for the ax, that is lost, somehow, and although I have made diligent inquiry, I have never been able to find where it is.  Some people think the fairy took it after King Ranier died, and hid it again in a tree; and I recommend all wood-choppers to look at the heart of every tree they fell, for this wonderful ax.  They cannot mistake it, since the word “Boldness” is cut on the blade, and the word “Energy” is printed, in letters of gold, on the handle.

THE PAINTER’S SCARE-CROW.

By C.P.  CRANCH.

  Miss Arabella Vandyke Brown
  Had a small studio in the town,
  Where, all the winter, blithe and gay,
  She drew and painted day by day. 
  She envied not the rich.  Her art
  And work made sunshine in her heart. 
  Upon her canvas, many a scene
  Of summers past, in golden green
  Was wrought again.  The snow and rain
  Pelted upon her window-pane;
  But she within her cozy room
  With joyous toil dispelled the gloom;
  And, sometimes, in an undertone,
  Sang to herself there, all alone.

  But, when the spring and summer came,
  Her studio grew so dull and tame
  She sought the rural solitudes
  Of winding streams and shady woods;
  For painters’ works contract a taint
  Unless from Nature’s self they paint.

  So out Miss Arabella went,
  To sketch from Nature fully bent. 
  It was a lovely summer’s day;
  A lovely scene before her lay;
  Her folding-stool and box she took,
  And, seated in a quiet nook,
  Her white umbrella o’er her head
  (Like a tall giant mushroom spread),
  Began to paint; when, lo! a noise
  She heard.  A troop of idle boys
  Came flocking round her, rough and rude. 
  Some o’er her shoulders leaned; some stood
  In front of her, and cried:  “Paint me!—­
  My picter I should like to see.” 
  Some laughed, some shouted.  “What a set!”
  Said Arabella, in a pet: 
  “And no policeman within hail
  To send these ruffian imps to jail.” 
  In fine, she could not work, so went
  Straight homeward in great discontent. 
  She had no brother to defend her,
  Nor country cousin to attend her.

  [Illustration]

  A plan occurred to her next day
  To keep these idle scamps away. 
  An easel by her side she placed,
  And over it she threw in haste
  A hat and cloak:—­and there it stood
  In bold and threatening attitude. 
  The rabble at a distance spied
  The scare-crow standing by her side;
  And, thinking ’t was the town-police,
  They left Miss A.V.  Brown in peace.

  Moral.

  Sometimes, an innocent pretense
  Is the best means of self-defense,
  And if a scare-crow keeps the peace,
  What need to summon the police?