"Tom, please hand mamma the box of cloves, there, right near you.-No, dear, that is not the cloves."

"Tom can't read, mamma; I can, though," said Charley, proudly. "Here is the box, c-l-o-v-e-scloves."

"Thank you, my boy. Tom will learn to read some day, will

"O, Miss Ross told us about cloves last week," cried Bert.

"Did she? Then mamma will be very glad to listen. But do not, dear children, talk all together. Each wait politely till the other gets through talking."

"The clove-tree grows from thirty to forty feet high, and is green the year round," said Bert.

"The leaves are like the leaves of a peach tree," said Lillie, "and the cloves come on little green twigs in clusters, like flowers."

"Miss Ross says that cloves are not the fruit of the tree. Cloves are the young unopened buds of the clove blossoms with their small tender stems," said Mary, who is twelve years old.

"Spices grow only in countries where summer lasts the whole year round,” said Charley, "and the clove-buds are gathered in the month of December."

"The people knock them off the high trees with a long stick, just as Charley knocks off the green apples. But the cloves drop upon mats, which the people spread out under the trees to receive them."

Charley didn't like what Etta said about the green apples; and he gave her just a little push with his elbow.

So Etta stopped talking for a moment.

If mamma noticed Charley, she did not speak to him then; so Etta went on:

"They dry the clove-buds quickly in the shade, before the buds lose their flavor. The strength of the flavor lies in the bud alone."

66

'Yes; but Miss Ross says, that the green twigs are sometimes dried and ground up with the cloves and mixed with them to make a poorer article for the market," said Bert.

"That is not honest," said Lillie.

"Yes, Lillie, it is, if they sell it for just what it is, and for less money," said

Willie.

"The clove-tree is a native of the East Indies," added added mamma. "In 1881 an attempt was made to raise cloves in Texas; but it was not a success."

"Now, Charley, can you also find the allspice for me?" asked mamma.

Charley picked up

one spice-box after an

other, and spelled out

their names upon their

covers.

While Charley was doing this, and mamma stood waiting with smiling patience, little Tom picked up one of the boxes, rattled it quickly, and shouted:

"Here 'tis! Here 'tis! mamma. Tom reads it with his ears!"

And, sure enough, it was the box of allspice! Baby Tom was surer still that he could now read as well as Charley.

After the laugh was over, mamma sent Bert out for an armful of wood. Mary

put the wood into the fire. Then mamma gave Tom a bit of sugar for being so cunning, and began her talk again :

"Allspice is found in South America and the West Indies. The tree grows wild, and often reaches the height of thirty feet. Its leaves are like those of the ash tree, and it has bunches of small red flowers which fill the air with their fragrance.

"The allspice is found in heavy bunches of berries. These berries are picked when green, and dried in the sun.

"A single tree will produce one hundred pounds of this dried spice."

Meanwhile, the fire had burned brightly. Mamma's busy fingers had put the crust upon that "turn-over pie." Now she took it steaming hot from the oven.

Tom almost rolled off of the table. Charley forgot spices and spelling.

Even the older boys and girls left their chairs, and got near mamma's elbows again.

"No, no," said mamma; "wait a little while. The pie is too hot yet."