Part 26 (1/2)

TICKLED BY A STRAW.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

From his dreams of tops and marbles, Where the soaring kites he saw, Is that little urchin wakened, Tickled by a wheaten straw.

How do you suppose he likes it, Young one with annoying paw?

If I only were your mother, I'd tickle you with birchen straw.

Soon enough, from pleasant dreaming, You'll be wakened by the law, Which provides for every vision Some sort of provoking straw.

In dreams of play, or hope, or loving, When plans of happiness you draw, Underneath _your_ nose may wiggle Life's most aggravating straw

THE LIGHT IN THE CASTLE.

On a high hill, in a lonely part of Europe, there stood a ruined castle. No one lived there, for the windows were dest.i.tute of gla.s.s; there were but few planks left of the floors; the roof was gone; and the doors had long ago rotted off their hinges. So that any persons who should take up their residence in this castle would be exposed to the rain, when there was a storm; to the wind, when it blew; and to robbers, if they should come; besides running the risk of breaking their necks by falling between the rafters, every time they attempted to walk about the house.

It was a very solemn, lonely, and desolate castle, and for many and many a year no human being had been known to set foot inside of it.

It was about ten o'clock of a summer night that Hubert Flamry and his sister Hulda were returning to their home from an errand to a distant village, where they had been belated. Their path led them quite near to the ruined castle, but they did not trouble themselves at all on this account, for they had often pa.s.sed it, both by night and day. But to-night they had scarcely caught sight of the venerable structure when Hubert started back, and, seizing his sister's arm, exclaimed:

”Look, Hulda! look! A light in the castle!”

Little Hulda looked quickly in the direction in which her brother was pointing, and, sure enough, there was a light moving about the castle as if some one was inside, carrying a lantern from room to room. The children stopped and stood almost motionless.

”What can it be, Hubert?” whispered Hulda.

”I don't know,” said he. ”It may be a man, but he could not walk where there are no floors. I'm afraid it's a ghost.”

”Would a ghost have to carry a light to see by?” asked Hulda.

”I don't know,” said Hubert, trembling in both his knees, ”but I think he is coming out.”

It did seem as if the individual with the light was about to leave the castle. At one moment he would be seen near one of the lower windows, and then he would pa.s.s along on the outside of the walls, and directly Hubert and Hulda both made up their minds that he was coming down the hill.

”Had we better run?” said Hulda.

”No,” replied her brother. ”Let's hide in the bushes.”

So they hid.

In a few minutes Hubert grasped his sister by the shoulder. He was trembling so much that the bushes shook as if there was a wind.

”Hulda!” he whispered, ”he's walking along the brook, right on top of the water!”

”Is he coming this way?” said Hulda, who had wrapped her head in her ap.r.o.n.