the mud.

   "What am I to do now?" he asked himself. "I ought to have known better than to start out."

   "Get up!" he cried to his horses. "Get up there, you lazy brutes! Pull out of here!"

   The horses struggled hard, but they could not start the load.

   "Hey there!" he called to a man who was working in a field near by. "Come and help us out of this mud-hole."

   The man in the field had been watching the poor horses as they pulled with all their strength. He was angry at the wagoner for beating them so cruelly.

   "Put your shoulder to the wheel," he called back. "When you have done all you can to help yourself, I shall be willing to help you."

   The wagoner climbed down, muttering to himself, "I don't want to get down into this mud."

   He put his shoulder to the wheel, pushed long and steadily while the horses pulled. Slowly the load began to move. Before long it was on firm ground.

   The wagoner climbed up to his seat and called back to the man who was working in the field, "My load is out, but no thanks to you."

   The man replied, "You took my advice and put your shoulder to the wheel; that is what brought you out."

   A meadow lark built her nest in a field of wheat. She had a happy time raising her family, for no one came near her nest.

   There were four little larks in her family, and they were now nearly large enough to fly.

   The wheat was ripe and the mother knew that men might come to the field any day to reap; so she said to her little ones, "I am going out to get your breakfast. You must keep your ears and eyes wide open while I am gone; if you see or hear anything strange, you must tell me about it when I come back."

   "All right, mother," said the young larks, "we shall do as you tell us."

   The mother had been gone but a few minutes when the farmer who owned the field and his son came out to look at the wheat.

   "This grain is ready to cut," said the farmer to his son. "This evening go to our neighbor, Mr. 

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