THE GREAT WOOD€HUCK SOCIETY. 213 wet grass was so cool, and the wet air so sweet, and the wind made such a piece of silver-soap as the Tatting Club had never seen before. And the trap lay in such a lovely knot of woods! And it was such fun to climb the fences, and to push through the thickets, and to scramble over the brooks, and to take the strong west-wind into their lungs, and the broad high sun upon their heads! The Tatting Club were united in the opin- ion that they had never spent such a Wednesday afternoon. “Tt is better than making tatting in the school-house en; try,” said the President. Never had the Woodchuck Society spent such a Wednesday afternoon. It is as well to admit that. The Chairman admitted it very soon. He walked by the side of the Presi- dent; he found a great deal to say; it was better than mop- ing along alone with the boys; it was almost as well as skinning the woodchuck, in fact; he wondered that he had never thought of it before. It was quite true. Never had the Woodchuck Society spent such a Wednesday afternoon. “QO, to think of killing him in such a pretty place!” said the President of the Tatting Club, sighing, as she and her blue veil fluttered into the sweet green darkness of the spot, over crushed ferns and the ruins of little foxberry blossoms that turned wax-white at sight of her, and fainted before the feet of the Woodchuck Society fell across their blanched faces. The Woodchuck Society heard this remark, and wished they had left the Tatting Club at home. Suddenly the Chairman stopped. So did the President.