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“I don’t know,” hesitated the other after a pause. “I reckon it’s mighty kiddish of me but—but I just can’t help it.”,

Which in vain sober mortals would know.,

Well satisfied with his deed, he returned and lay down beside his wife. As soon as Little Thumbling heard the ogre snoring, he awoke his brothers, and bade them dress themselves quickly and follow him. They crept down into the garden and jumped over the wall. They ran nearly all night long, trembling the whole time, and not knowing whither they were going. The ogre, awaking in the morning, said to his wife, "Go upstairs and dress those young scamps you took in last night." The ogress was astonished at her husband's kindness, never guessing what he meant, and only fancying that he wished her to go and put on their clothes. She went upstairs, where she was horrified to find that her own children had been killed. The first thing she did was to faint, for it is the first thing that almost all women do in similar circumstances. The ogre, fearing that his wife would be too long over the job he had given her to do, went upstairs to help her. His surprise was not less than had been his wife's, when his eyes fell on the frightful spectacle.,

He had not been long in this situation, when a confused sound of voices from a distance roused his attention. The sound returned at intervals for some time, but without seeming to approach. He descended from the tree, that he might the better judge of the direction whence it came; but before he reached the ground, the noise was ceased, and all was profoundly silent. He continued to listen, but the silence remaining undisturbed, he began to think he had been deceived by the singing of the wind among the leaves; and was preparing to reascend, when he perceived a faint light glimmer through the foliage from afar. The sight revived a hope that he was near some place of human habitation; he therefore unfastened his horse, and led him towards the spot whence the ray issued. The moon was now risen, and threw a checkered gleam over his path sufficient to direct him.

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The marquis, meanwhile, whose indefatigable search after Julia failed of success, was successively the slave of alternate passions, and he poured forth the spleen of disappointment on his unhappy domestics.,

“You can just bet your boots I am,” returned Ted, holding out his hand. Bob shook it warmly.,

Next it was the telegraph operator, Mr. Nilsen. “Well, I must say! If here isn’t the person every one is talking about—and as large as life!”,

“Come on, Jerry,” Bob said; “let’s be getting back.”