ore the midsummer holidays. It consisted of poems and stories by the young ladies,

, friendships, and adventures of Mr. Gander and Miss Chilblane, chiefly related in pen-and-ink d

mbled some Saturday afternoon in May, to read aloud

eves' permission, in the smaller schoolroom. Ursula sat at the head of the table in an im

sat at the windo

going to read a story. "I am sure you could write a most bewit

d Meg, retreating

althy. Ladies sat there and feasted. The description of its charms had apparently such an overwhelming attraction for the authoress that she could not prevail on her pen to quit it and pass on

f this story was

he table with h

with thanks,"

ed Laura i

, we consider it in bad taste," replied Ursul

story to submit to us fo

ry of "The Ghostly Postman," who knocked in the ordi

as she now unrolled her MS., and in a dee

earthly, blood curdling. When the chamber was broken into the guest was always found dead, with arms outstretched and eyes starting out of their sockets. Who uttered that midnight yell?-was it the living

reeted t

Ursula, in a bu

ated?" inquired the

a spectral donkey br

t allow that!" s

S., refused or accepted," replied Ursula, bring

's story," s

rophecy, the Venetian damsel with hair like bullion, and clad in a rich violet velvet gown, and with a necklace of pearls clasped about her lily-white throat, set off every morning in her gondola to look for the gallant whom she could love. One day the predicted lover came in another gondola; he was beautiful as Apollo. His mustache was long and silky, his eyes liquid and violet; he had an air of

ula. "I can see the two drowning with tha

o never saw a joke, "it wi

e Hathers modestly, taking out a roll of

ation greeted t

, with the freezing

aps it might be more appropriately c

Miss Hathers be

star

rt is

u down a

e eyes

draw hi

dignity, completed the couple

cheek I'l

s folded up her effusi

eamy t

only the

draw h

eamy

d in an inj

said Ursula with decision. "Any more MSS.?" sh

a rustle of

contributed "The Vampire Schoolmistress," an awful tale of a teacher, whose pupils all died mysteriously-"sucked like oranges," Ursula suggested. One

n a lisping, fine voice the young lady read the story of a wealt

autiful, and she kept her heart in check. It was only when the eldest son of a marquis came forward to woo her that she allowed herself to love. Wealth and nobility, the sensible heiress felt, was the true marriage sung of by

ike a surly little exile from the circle, looked as if the foolis

tell you

echoed the g

said

laimed Gw

tory of a to

epeated Gwendo

," Meg began, breathing heavily-ta

up at the beautiful stars. Every one who saw it," Meg went on with more concentration, "looked at it with disgust. The toad used to make its way to the

k her why it had ever been born? The mother of all the toads was immensely large. She had bigger and more beautiful eyes than any other toad

o the children put out their little red lips at me? They hate and fear me. Sometimes when the

wer, she only blinked. She showed no sympath

re was a child who had a pet flower, and when the child went away the toad took care o

rying 'Kill it! kill it!' and the gardener gave the poor toad a kick with his nailed boot on its tender side, and threw it,

ging to see something uglier than itself. One day it saw this thing. It was a pug dog-petted, and fed, and caressed, and wearing a

d nearer. Suddenly the toad felt itself taken up gently, and it saw bending over it the face of a young man, and it was a kind face; and the young m

ed for the sake of that friend not to mind. It remained there, and it was always liste

was a

t said: "What a

circled roun

ittle toad?" as

said Me

said Ursula, "and I s