her. She is a kind old lady, and Mary has promised to go down and see
her often, as she wishes to learn all she can about drugs.

Mary pointed to a large black bottle and asked if there was wine in it.
"Oh no, but vitriol, it burns awful and is very dangerous," said the
old lady. Mary did not wish to hear more, but rushed out of the room,
fearing the bottle would explode. She told the old lady that she never
would touch anything unless she knew what it was--and then she would
not "burn her fingers."




[Illustration: The May Queen.]

THE MAY QUEEN.


It is May morning. May is the most beautiful of all months. Then it is,
that all nature seems to awaken from its winter slumbers. The grass
springs up, the little birds sing and chirp, and display their beautiful
plumage. The trees shoot forth their buds, the fruitful covering of
future foliage. We no longer greet each other in the warmed room, but,
"Good morning," is sweetly spoken from the open window, or among the
bushes of the garden. We hunt flowers and climb hills, and thus exercise
both the body and the mind. In many parts of Europe, on the first of
May, all the juveniles of both sexes, walk to a neighboring wood, and
breaking limbs off trees, adorn them with ribbons and crowns of flowers.
They are accompanied by a band of music and the blowing of horns. They
then return to their homes and make their houses triumphant in the