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Off he leapt with the rope round his neck; but the noose did not draw itself tight. Faithful to his plan, he pulled the rusty trigger, but, like every thing else belonging to Ramon, the gun was out of order, and didn't go off; but as he hung struggling in the air the old well-rope broke, and down he fell splashing into the sea. There was no easy drowning for him, however; the water was not so deep as he had imagined, and he was left floundering in the waves, and bruised about among the sunken rocks.

Ramon had no fortitude; at each bump he could not restrain an exclamation of pain, and the distressful cries attracted the attention of no less a person than Carmen, who was gathering esparto grass on the wild coast at no great distance.

All her former womanly compassion returned when she saw her poor Ramon in suffering and distress. Without an instant's hesitation, she caught up a hank of strong esparto rope, which she used to tie up her bundles, and hurried to the water's edge. Making one end of it fast to a rock, with the vigorous exertion of an arm strengthened by labour and directed by intelligence and affection, she contrived. to throw the other end within reach of his grasp.

2 Esparto grass is a fibrous plant which grows in great abundance in the south of Spain; it is imported into this country under the name of Spanish broom, and is used for making rope, canvas, mats, paper, and for many other useful

purposes.

Ramon, who by this time had been long enough within sight of the terrors of death to feel his wish to encounter it considerably cooled, no sooner saw who was steadying the line, than he felt all the love of life which is implanted in the heart of man. revive with its full vigour.

He caught the rope and twisted it round his arm, and with its aid breasted the breakers. By the time he reached the shore, however, the exhaustion. consequent on so much excitement and exertion overcame him so completely, that every remaining spark of ill-will in Carmen's bosom was extinguished, and her only thought was how to restore him to strength.

Her exertions were blessed with success, and his weakness found scope for all her womanly sympathies, while her tender care roused all the better qualities of his nature into action. Her smile mingled with the visions of his feeble state, and warmed all his prospects of the future.

When he dreamt of the dreary old house and its haunting associations with the guilty past, he fancied he saw the sunny halo of her presence dispelling all its gloomy phantasms, and her playful innocence silencing even the convicting warnings of the stern old vine. Shared with her, even labour seemed to lose its repugnance.

As soon as he was well enough, he opened to her his resolutions full of repentance, which,

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with a woman's instinct, she was forward to fos

ter.

You will be pleased to hear that after all these lessons, crowned by Carmen's winning confidence in his promised amendment, Ramon set himself seriously to follow a new line of conduct. showed her faith in his penitence by marrying him, Carmen and he took honest care that she should never repent her generosity.

The old cottage once more looked homely and inviting; and in the summer evening, when Ramon and Carmen sat resting beneath the shadow of the old vine, now sturdy and fruitful under the culture it received, and watching the gambols of a troop of chiquillos whom God had given them, the leaves, as they fell rustling about them, whispered playfully in Ramon's ear, "You don't want to die now?" And Ramon in revenge plucked a bunch of ruddy grapes, and distributed it among the happy party.

3 Nice little children.

THE BALLAD-MAKER AND THE

BOOT-MAKER.

HERE was a minstrel who went travelling about the country from time to time

singing sweet songs which people loved to hear. His music was not like the music of the Spanish people, for he came from the kingdom of Provence, and every one thronged to hear the strange sweet melody. And when he had passed on, and there was no one left to sing as he sang, people tried to remember his words and his tones, and to sing like him.

At one of the towns where he passed there was a boot-maker, who, as he sat all day alone at his last, diverted himself with singing; and as he had sung a good deal, he thought he could sing very well. He was much delighted with the minstrel's songs, caught up a good many of them, and never tired of singing them-after his fashion. But from being quite ignorant both of music and of the Provençal language, he made, as we should

say, a great mess of it. Yet, as the people knew no more about it than himself, they were very well pleased to listen to him.

So, a long time after, when the Provençal minstrel came back that way, they would not admit him, but cried out, "We have one of our own people who sings your songs for us as well as you, and we need no Frenchman here."

Now the minstrel was one greatly devoted to his art, he did not merely sing for sordid gain; so instead of being angry because he was supplanted, he was really pleased to hear that the people in that far-off town had learnt the language and melody of his dear Provence; and he said he would hear the boot-maker himself.

Imagine how great was his annoyance and mortification, when he heard the beautiful ballads lamed and spoilt by the rude, unlearned attempts of the boot-maker!

"Is it possible," he said, "that this man has been deluding all the people into the idea that what he sings is like my songs? And how can I prevent his going on keeping them under this error?" Then he bethought him what to do. He went by night to the boot-maker's workshop, and putting all the wrong pieces of leather together, he sewed them up into all sorts of foolish, useless shapes.

When daylight returned, and the boot-maker came to his work, he was in a great fury at