Lom goes to London. 15.

mamma brought in a lot of paper, nicely
ruled, and a new red pencil.

“This, Tom,” she said, “is for you to
write me a journal of the things you see and
hear and like best in London.”

“Qh yes, mamma!” cried Tom; “all
about the roaring lions and tigers and
white bears, and the Queen, with her crown
on, and the Lord Mayor, and my aunt and
cousins.”

“Everything that comes into your head,”
said she, as she packed the paper into a

corner.

Thursday morning came. Tom stood on
the steps with his hat on, and jumped into
the carriage. His mamma had promised to
take care of his hen and rabbits for him till
he came back, and he had run out early
before breakfast and kissed them, and said
good-bye to them.

The train was waiting at the station, just as
though it knew they were coming.

“Papa!” cried Tom, after=sitting still a

minute, “I want my journal. I’ve a great
B