another look at them. We used to gaze and gaze at them with wonderment, and our interest in them increased day by day, as we watched their movements.

They often stood together for hours rattling their bills at each other, or demurely surveying the grounds about them, often starting finally after some object or prey which they had espied.

One day, after "playing the castanet" (as we called it) for some time, they both suddenly darted away, one diving to the ground as though it was shot. Soon, it was seen ascending with a snake dangling from its claws. It rose far up into the air, and then suddenly dropped its prey. The other bird, who was on the lookout for this, instantly pounced upon the fallen victim (which had been killed by the fall), and seized and carried the dead snake to the nest on the chimney-top.

The storks' flight is very pretty. They throw

would let us approach them, but we were afraid to go too near, for when they turned their heads toward us to take a look, their long bills used to frighten us very much. So we watched our opportunity to visit their nest during their absence.

One day when they were away, we got a ladder, and raised it on the top of the small house which served for the kitchen. There we rested it against the chimney, and I ascended to the nest.

We found their bed, or nest, made of the coarsest twigs and pieces of sticks. It contained four eggs, about the size of goose-eggs, but they were of a buff color, while goose-eggs are white.

When we came down, and as we were talking about the nest, the idea struck me that it would be very funny to experiment on the storks as we did on the hens, and see what would be the result. We laughed heartily over the plot, and determined to take away their eggs and replace them with

their heads back, extend their legs, and with outstretched wings soar very high. Their movements, when on the ground in search of food, are equally graceful and picturesque; they take long and measured strides, and strut about in conscious dignity and confident security. They rest sleeping on one leg, with the neck folded and head turned backward on the shoulder.

The poor creatures, not perceiving the deception, went on sitting on the new eggs; for we noticed they took turns in their sittings- the male, which was the larger of the two, sitting by day and the female by night.

After four weeks' close watching, we knew, one day, that the eggs were hatched; for there was a great trouble in the stork family. Both the birds were standing and clanking their bills at each other as if they would talk each other down. At last, they both flew away and soon returned with many others of their tribe.

They all perched around the nest (or as many as could do so), the rest hovering over it and waiting for their turn to have a close look at the goslings. After due inspection and careful examination, they set up a clanking of bills that could be heard a great way off. They clanked and rattled, rattled and

denly ceased, and began pecking at something, after which they all took to flight.

We were curious to know what had happened. We made haste to ascend the ladder and find out the state of affairs before the birds came back. I was the first to explore, and I was both amazed and grieved to find the mother stork lying dead on top of the young goslings which had been hatched, and which were also dead.

I came down the ladder to allow the others to see the catastrophe, and all ascended by turns, and came down with sorrowful faces.

We rushed into the house and informed our father of what had happened. He, without saying a word, ordered the servant to go up and remove the dead birds. When they were brought down, we children dug a grave and buried the poor things. We learned many years afterward that no stork had ever, after that day, perched upon that chimney.

&

FREDERICK OF HOHENSTAUFEN THE BOY

EMPEROR.

A. D. 1207-1212.

[Afterward Frederick the Second, Emperor of Germany.] GLEAMING with light and beauty, from the wavy sea-line where the blue Mediterranean rippled against the grim fortress of Castellamare to the dark background of olive groves and rising mountain walls, Palermo, "city of the Golden Shell," lay bathed in all the glory of an Italian afternoon. It was a bright spring day in the year 1207. Up the Cassaro, or street of the palace, and out through the massive gate-way of that curious old Sicilian city, half Saracen, half Norman in its looks and life,- a small company of horsemen rode rapidly westward to where the square yellow towers of La Zisa rose above its orange groves. Now La Zisa was one of the royal pleasure houses, a relic of the days when the swarthy Saracens were lords of Sicily.

In the sun-lit gardens of La Zisa, a manly-looking lad of thirteen, with curly golden hair and clear blue eyes, stood beneath the citron trees that bordered a beautiful little lake. A hooded falcon perched upon his wrist, and by his side stood his brownskinned attendant, Abderachman the Saracen.

"But will it stay hooded, say'st thou?" the boy inquired, as he listened with satisfaction to the

tinkling bells of the nodding bird which Abderachman had

just taught him to hood. "Can he not shake it off?” "Never fear for that, little Mightiness," the Saracen replied. "He is as safely blinded as was ever the eagle of Kairwan, the eyes of which the Emir took for his crescent-tips, or even as art thou, O el Aaziz, by thy barons of Apulia."

The look of pleasure faded from the boy's face. "Thou say'st truly, O Abderachman," he said. "What am I but a hooded falcon? I, a King who am no King! Would that thou and I could fly far from this striving world, and in those great forests over sea of which thou hast told me, could both chase the lion like bold, free hunters of the hills.” "Wait in patience, O el Aaziz; to each man comes his day," said the philosophic Saracen.

But now there was heard a rustle of the citron hedge, a clatter of hoofs rang on the shell-paved road-way, and the armed band that we saw spurring through Palermo's gates drew rein at the lake-side. The leader, a burly German knight, who bore upon his crest a great boar's head with jeweled eyes and gleaming silver tusks, leaped from his horse and strode up to the boy. His bow of obeisance was scarcely more than a nod.

"Your Highness must come with me," he said, " and that at once."

The boy looked at him in protest. "Nay, Baron Kapparon,- am I never to be at my ease?" he asked. "Let me, I pray thee, play out my