“O George, the circus is coming! the handbills are all up, and such pictures of horses and lions and tigers, and everything!”

Ned jumped about for joy, until George said,—

“But how are you going, Ned? We have no money, and papa said he could not give us any more this month, if he gave us a gun.”

“The new gun,—so he did,” said Ned, sadly. “But the circus takes so little; they would let us in at half price.”

“I will tell you,” exclaimed George; “let us sell our white Leghorns to mamma. She wants them, I know, and the money we get for them will take us both to the circus.”

This was settled, and at dinner mamma was told of the plan.

“Put them up in the hen-house to-night,” she said, “and to-morrow I will look at them and we will fix the price.”

The boys went to bed early that night, but had hardly settled themselves to sleep when Melissa, the little servant-girl, rushed in with a light in her hand.

“O, git up, boys, git up! Sompen’s in de hen-house, killin’ all de fowls.”

They jumped up and huddled on their clothes as fast as they could, then ran after Melissa, who held the light while they armed themselves with sticks.

There was a great stir, sure enough, in the hen-house,—fowls were cackling and screaming with fright, and a curious snapping sound came from one corner. When the light fell here they saw a rough, hairy little animal, with small bright eyes like a pig, and a long smooth tail. But, worst of all, one of the beautiful white Leghorns lay before it, all mangled and bleeding. The horrid creature was tearing its soft body, and would hardly stop eating when the children attacked him.

At last Melissa caught up a stick, and killed the little beast with a quick blow. She held it up in triumph by its long tail. It looked very much like a little pig, and had five fingers, like toes, on each foot.

“’Tis a ’possum,” said Melissa, “and very good to eat. I’s right glad I kill it, cos now ’tis mine.”

“You are welcome to it,” said Ned, half crying. “What shall we do now our pretty Leghorn rooster is dead? We can’t go to the circus.”

Next morning they told their tale at the breakfast-table.

“Never mind,” said their father; “I think you may go, after all, as I owe you something for killing the opossum. He would have destroyed the rest of the fowls.” “Yes; but, papa, Melissa killed it; we only struck at it.”

“Well, I think I must treat the whole party, as all did their best. We will set a trap to-day for the next opossum that may come to see us.”

The boys and Melissa went to the circus, and enjoyed all they saw, and Melissa had a fine opossum stew into the bargain.

PINK HUNTER.

Virginia.