“CARROTS.”

“Tf they live near here, very likely the Es-
planade is their daily walk, and they will be:
passing back again in a few minutes,” said
my mother, entering into my fancy.

I took up her suggestion eagerly. She
was right; in about a quarter of an hour my
trots appeared again, this time from the other
direction; and, as good luck would have it,
just opposite our window, their nurse happen-
ing to meet an acquaintance, they came to a.
halt.

“Mamma, mamma!”’ I exclaimed, “ here they
are again!”

Mamma nodded her head and smiled with-
out looking up. She was just then counting
the rows of her knitting, and was afraid of
losing the number. I pressed my face close
to the window. If only the trots would look
my way! I could hardly resist tapping on
the pane.

Suddenly a bright thought struck me. I

seized Gip, my little dog, who was asleep on.

the hearth-rug, and held him up to the window.