Again he assembles his Mandarins, and proclaims his failure, and, in their presence, he clasps the hand of the young Hang-Ho, saying, You are a clever fellow, and I would like to reward you.

what do you wish for most?"

66

Now,

"A wife," he replied earnestly, murmuring the name of "Yang-te-Se."

"How bold," whisper the Mandarins to each other; "but he is a great man now, for he has invented a puzzle which even our sovereign cannot discover."

"Young man," replied the Emperor, "I will give you a chance, even for the hand of my daughter. I will present the puzzle to all the first young ladies of my kingdom, and if any one of them discovers the answer within thirty days, whoever she may be, you shall marry her. It is your only chance," he continued, seeing that Hang-Ho hesitated to reply. "Yang-te-Se shall try with the rest. Will you agree to this ?"

"I will," replied the young man, a flush of hope rising to his cheeks.

Now, let us visit the apartments of the ladies of the court. They are all reclining on soft cushions. Their curiously carved fans no longer move, and their eyes are earnestly fixed upon seven small pieces of ivory lying before them. Any of the beautiful females in the kingdom would willingly be the wife of Hang-Ho. He is so agreeable, and besides, it would be such a novel way of winning a husband,

by finding out a puzzle which even the Emperor could not discover.

The pretty Yang-te-Se is now deeply occupied with the "Puzzle." She is seated at a small table, in her own room, her cheeks are flushed with excitement, and her heart is beating violently, for the poor maiden has suffered much since her lover was condemned to die; and now, if she does not discover the answer to the puzzle, he is, indeed, lost to her for ever. She presses her hands to her face, and the pearly tears filling her eyes, find their way through those delicate fingers.

Suddenly she hears a slight rustling in the tree that grows beneath her window, and, in an instant, there is nestling in her bosom a beautiful white pigeon.

Oh, sweet bird," she exclaims, as she kisses it and smooths its feathers, "what bringest thou to me from Hang-Ho?" Whilst uttering these words, she unties a white ribbon from its neck, attached to which is a small scroll. She unrolls it-glances earnestly at it—and, oh! it is the key to the puzzle -Hang-Ho is her's!

There is great excitement through the court of the Emperor Ching, for his own daughter has discovered the puzzle. And all the people bow their heads reverently, saying, " Changti certainly watches over the sweet maiden! Hang-Ho has a nice little wife."

Such is the origin of the "Great Chinese Puzzle."

THE PERILS OF FISHING.

NDER the shadow of old Monadnock I did all the fishing of my juvenile days. A brighter or a livelier stream never flashed down the side of a rugged mountain, than that which washed the eastern margin of our old homestead farm. Never did prettier, gayer, more

bewitching little shiners dance and shimmer in the limpid waters, than those which found a home in that same laughing mountain brook. It sometimes hurt my feelings sadly to see them writhing and wriggling on the hook, or flapping about on the grass, in the agonies of death, and I thought I would rather lose my breakfast than torture them so again. But then again, the roguish little elves would vex me, and try my patience marvelously, till my sympathy with suffering quite evaporated. When I was in the greatest hurry, they would always tease me most. They would actually seem to laugh at my impatience. I could see every rascal of them in the clear, crystal element. They would come dancing gayly up to the hook, smell daintily at the bait,

turn up an eye at me with a most provoking smile, as if to say, "We know too much for that, boy," and then skip away with a titter that I could almost hear. Then up, and away again. Then nibble, nibble, nibble-jerk! and out would come bait, hook, and sinker, but no fish, disturbing the water and frightening away the whole troup, so that it was five minutes, or more, before the boldest of them would venture to come back. Then, try it again, impatiently. Vexation would make me hungry, and the hungry stomach would get the better of the tender heart, and make me resolve to pay the little imps tenfold for their impudence and coquetry. Then, nibble again, nibble-jerk, so impatiently and nervously, that the excited sinker would perhaps give me a hard slap on the nose, and the agitated hook jump into my cheek or hand, and make me scream out with pain and rage.

Many, I assure you, are the perils of fishing, even in a quiet brook. I once had my cheek so torn by the hook, which caught the infection of my passion

ate jerk, that it was nearly a month before I could remove the patch, and the scar remained a full month or more after that.

Do you see that cosy old fellow, sitting on the arch of the bridge, yonder, the image of patience and laziness. Under the shade of the overhanging trees, and in social chat with his friend, he seems to have a very good time of it, just now. But, byand-by, when his friend passes on, and he is left alone, perhaps an hour or two, with no occupation

I know just what it is, for I have experienced it. I was sitting, one bright morning, on a projecting log, that overhung a deep eddy at an angle of the