alone, and see how wide the path really is when I get closer to it; you two remain here until I come back."

We did so, and father soon returned, on foot, to tell us that he thought the path would be safe enough if we dismounted and walked across. He had already led his horse over the breakaway, and hitched him up on the other side.

Duke dismounted, and father took hold of Wallace's bridle.

"I will lead Bruce," I said, catching hold of his rein.

"If you lead Bruce, you must be very careful where you tread, Bunchy," father said; "and if you feel him make a false step, let go the reins at once, for fear he should slip and drag you down with him. You could not save him if he slipped."

"We neither of us mean to slip," I answered; "we know too well what we are about, and see a dodge."

"You follow Wallace," father said to Duke, "and take exactly the same road I take; and don't crack your whip, as the pony might start if he heard a whip from behind."

Duke said "All right," and father went on, first having tied Wallace's rein very short, and holding it close to his mouth. I gave Bruce a longer rein, but then Wallace hated to be led. Father and Wallace were getting on capitally; so were Bruce, Nep, and I, who were now looking down upon the rest of the party, for I had climbed the sand-hill to get a safer footing, and my pony had followed me, when all of a sudden Duke,

quite forgetting what father had said to him, lashed his whip, and Wallace, hearing it, turned suddenly sideways, and his hind legs slipped over the mountain-side. Father felt that he could not save him, so gently let go the reins. Fortunately he had tied them together so tightly, that Wallace could not get his feet entangled in them. I shut my eyes at first, for I could not bear to see what was happening; but when I looked again, Wallace was slipping down and down, the rock crumbling as he went, but still not losing balance or rolling over, and keeping his hind feet dug well into the crumbling sand. At last he came to a patch of firm ground, and then he recovered himself, and stood still looking all about.

Poor Marmaduke's face was very pale. He had been thoughtless, but I am sure he never meant to be disobedient.

"Was Wallace hurt?" he asked.

Father said he thought not much, though it was a wonderful escape if he were not.

Now

Bruce and I had stood still on our eminence. we moved on carefully until the path below was wide and safe. Then we descended slowly on to it, and the next moment I had hitched up Bruce beside Topsy.

"What shall we do about Wallace, father?" I asked, as I went up to him.

"I don't see what can be done," he answered. "If I managed to slip down the rock as cleverly as he did, I could neither get up again myself, nor drag a pony up after me. Duke must ride home on my horse in front of me, and we will go very steadily. Wallace is

a good climber, and will perhaps follow us below, getting over ruts and scrambling through difficult passes until we meet. Our road is downhill, so, unless some high fence obstructs his path altogether, we shall, I hope, soon meet."

We did as father suggested, and Wallace was at the foot of the hill first, waiting for us. He had held his head very well, or else, though the reins were so short, they would most likely have caught in some bush. Father would not let Duke mount Wallace again that day, and the little pony trotted beside us the rest of the way home, father only leading him across the river. It was fine fun crossing! Bruce is not tall enough for rivers. This one took him a good deal above his knees, and I had to put my feet on to his neck to keep them dry. Duke did not speak one word going home. I think he was ashamed of himself for having cracked his whip when father told him not to do so. And, poor boy! he was unhappy also, for father had taken his little whip away from him, which was one of his greatest treasures, and had thrown it down the mountain-side, to teach Marmaduke a lesson of obedience.

Every now and then father teaches us these lessons in a very disagreeable manner. But Duke isn't at all disobedient, only has a shocking habit of cracking whips, because he has just learnt this accomplishment. One day he hit Winny with one of his whips, quite by accident, of course, just as he cracked his whip to-day, also quite by accident, and from habit; but then this habit might have led to a very bad result. So I see

perfectly well what all the aunts mean when they say we should cultivate good, not bad, habits; and I think, if it's time that poor Duke began to do this, it must be time for me to do it also. When we reached home, we were very thankful to have arrived there safely; and father said we would never ride over those hills again. Wallace was a clever pony that day, for when father examined him after we got back, he found that he had only a few small bruises and scratches, that would soon wear off.

Poor father blamed himself for taking us that road; but he should not have done that, for no harm would have come of it had not Duke cracked his whip-and even now there was no real mischief done,

A STRANGE thing has just happened at the Farm. Aunt Agatha has married Dr. Hammond. Bob will be astonished when he hears that the wedding is over, for I only wrote about ten days ago to tell him that Aunt Agatha was engaged to Dr. Hammond.

I don't know why they were married so quickly. I believe mother wished it, and fixed the day for the wedding herself. There were very few people asked to it -only Dr. Hammond's brother and sister and Mrs. Holt. The rector married them; father gave Aunt Agatha away, and I and Winny were her bridesmaids.

People said it was a very quiet wedding, but they were not surprised. A great many poor people were in the church, who threw down flowers for Aunt Agatha to walk over. I suppose she is very fond of Dr. Hammond, for every one said she looked very happy. I am not fond of him, because he does not make mother better.

Aunt Anne and Aunt Sue have each written a long letter from the Orange River, to say that they have