BED-TIME.

is a continued story, and just as the buds began in
the first place they keep on from year to year; if they
stop, there will be death.

There is another thing: more buds are provided
than there is any present use for. Professor Gray
says it “never happens” that they all grow; “if they
did, there would be as many branches in any year as
there were leaves the year before.” Imagine the
crowding and tangling if that could happen! But
what becomes of. the surplus buds? To answer that
question fully would take us into a study of structure
which there is not time for now; botany will tell you
all about it. Enough now to say that some always
remain undeveloped, and show as small bunchy

places on the bark ; some, after years of stagnation,’

start out and put forth a feeble, stripling bough on

243

their own account; others (they have the significant
name of “ latent’) survive for years without growing,
and when other branches happen to be killed, “these
come out to supply their place.”

There is, however, one class of trees, such as the
pines and spruces, where the loss of a member is not
made up; and if you break off a branch it will be in
vain for you to expect another. The tree will push on
upward, in obedience to the law of its being, which
is for the main stem to be “carried on in a direct
line, throughout the whole growth of the tree by the
development year after year of a terminal bud,” but
it will put out no new branch below. I never see
a portion of one of these evergreens lopped off with-
out feeling sorry about it; without thinking of it as.a
wrong done to the tree.

; | BED-TIME.

 

By MaRGARET VANDEGRIFT.

 

NDEED and indeed I am not sleepy;
I want a story, one story, oh please!
My eyelids just feel a little creepy, _
And my head would like to lie on your knees.”

“Tt’s the sand-man making your eyelids creepy,”
T say, as I stroke the curly head ;

“ My darling is very, very sleepy,

And here comes nurse to take her to bed.”

“Just a minute, mamma, a little minute!

I haven’t finished my dolly’s hood ;

I left the needle all sticking in it,

And she has to have it —I said she should.”

- “J will finish the hood for dolly, sweetheart,
She shall have it to-night, as her mother said ;
But the dark has come, and the stars are shining,
And nurse is waiting ; so go to bed.”

“ But I left my dolly under the willow,
Without her hat or her little shawl,

With only an apple for her pillow,

And nothing over her — nothing at all!”

“T will bring her in, and to-morrow morning
You shall find her under her patchwork spread,
All safe and sound, with her hood beside her;
So kiss me, baby, and go to bed.”

“I was cross this morning, and whipped my kittens
Because they wouldn’t play horses right ;

And I rubbed a coal on my little new mittens;
Forgive me, mamma; I’m sorry to-night.”

A clinging hug, and a.dozen kisses,

From lips that are soft, and warm, and red,
“T forgive you, darling ; I know you're sorry;
Love mamma always— and go to bed.”

“ Ah, mamma darling, it’s very lonely,

I think I would like to wait for you ;

The bed is so big with just me only.

Why are you waiting? You might come too.”

“You will be asleep in a minute, precious,
After you lay down your little head ;

And when you wake, you will find me by you,
One kiss, and then you must go to bed!”