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Alas! alas! his latest hope is vain

By word and blow .
Of harsh unkindness driven forth again,

Where shall he go?
The night is dark--but the poor orphan child,

Amid luis woe,
Bethinks him of the infant Saviour mild,

And kneeleth low.

Hark! 'tis a burst of hearty merriment

The child draws nigh,
'Tis from a burgher's simple tenement.

With longing sigh
He watches the glad group of faces bright,

And so for him
IIe thinks the Fir-trec once was decked with lights;

His eyes grow dim.
And timidly he knocks, again to tell

His piteous tale.
Alas! for bim-on stony ears it fell

Without avail !
The door is closed against him, and in vain

With grief indeed,
Ho gazes through the latticed window panc-

No one takes heed!
Weeping he turns away, and passes by

Both light and sound
From many a humble roof and mansion high

Scattered around :
Then pauses mcekly by the lowlicst door,

Where a faint ray
Breaks through, and shows how fast the little store

Of tapers wears away.

In prayer to Him who is not slow to hear

He kneeleth there,
And soon he sees a little child draw near,

Exceeding fair ;
With wbitest raiment shining like the day

And crown of light,
And as he moves along the darken'd way

All becomes bright!

So to that patient wanderer came lio

And bade him raise
llis wond'ring eyes where springs a glorious tree,

And offer praise
To God who heareth the sad orphan's cry,

And sendeth aid
When earthly hope is none-and misery

Maketh afraid.

No longer sad and fearful is that child

He turns to see,
Where stands at bidding of the infant mild

His Christmas tree!
A wondrous tree, radiant in heavenly light-

With one glad bound
He leaves the gloom of sorrow's bitter night-

Įlis home is found!

CIIRISTMAS AS IT IS.

Amidst all the Feasts and Fasts which shine in the ! A contemporary has pleasantly versified this Calendar of man's devotion, there is none so radiant joyful spirit : with holy joy and gladness as the Festival of Christmas. Hence its celebration in various ages

“O) why was England 'merrie' callid, has called forth the liveliest sympathies of man,

I pray you tell me why?--

Because Old England merry was, in festal chansons,not such as are current at this

In merry times gone by! day, as carols, since these are comparatively recent

She knew no dearth of honest mirth substitutions for the joyous carol of earlier times. It

To cheer both son and sire, is important to note, that Christmas has been from

But kept it up o'er wassail cup very remote times a season of rejoicing; for, as Fuller

Around the Christinas fire.” quaintly says, “Though Christ was humbled to a But one of the finest pictures of the joys of oiden manger, the contempt of the place was took off by Christmas is by a poet whose heart o'erflowed the glory of the attendance and ministration of

with kindly feeling towards his race: angels." Indeed, the celebration has been for centuries ordained as a time of joy: it was forbidden “ The glowing censers and their rich perfume, to be kept as a fast by the Council of Braga, The splendid vestments, and the sounding choir; A. D. 563 ; which anathematized such as did not

The gentle sigh of soul-subduing piety;

The alms which open-hearted clarity duly honour the birth-day of Christ, according to the

Bestows with kindly glance, and those flesh, but pretended to honour it by fasting on that Which e'en stern avarice, day; a custom attributable to the same conception Though with unwilling hand, which led to the practice of fasting on the Lord's Seems forc'd to tender ; an offering sweet Day, namely, the belief that Christ was not truly To the bright throne of mercy; mark born in the nature of man. Since this Canon, we

This day a festival. do not find any positive regulation specially affect

Thus sung WALTER SCOTT, who carried out bis ing the observance of Christmas. (See Neale's

creed into the hall of Abbotsford, as well as in his Feasts and Fasts.)

own sweet verse.

Elsewhere in this sheet will be found detailed the first kindled; there is the same form and the same olden celebrations of Christmas, in customs which reflecting virtue in it, kindled by a spark from a belong, perhaps, to a more picturesque age than

flint, as if it were kindled by a beam from the sun." our own; though we are not inclined to regard the

The axiom, “ 'Tis distance lends enchantment to

| the view,” is, perhaps, exemplified in estimating discontinuance of many of these customs at the

the joys of Christmas in centuries long past, higher present day as a falling off in the feelings of the than those of Chris

| than those of Christmas at present. That we may people. The joy of the people we take to be arrive at a true estimate, let us glance at such of as great, though it is less boisterous in its dis- | those ancient celebrations as time has left us, and plays: the holy joy must remain for ever, such novelties as the inventive ingenuity of our though the popular participation may change. , own day has suggested. It has been sensibly observed, that, although

The approach of Christmas is still denoted by

festive preparations-not, as in olden time, princimuch of the custom of profuse hospitality has

pally by “the great barons and knights, who passed away, Christmas is yet universally re

generally kept open house at this season"-but cognised as a season when every Christian should

among all classes of the people. Clubs are estabshow his gratitude to the Almighty for the inesti- lished among the working classes, for securing the mable benefits procured to us by the nativity of Christmas luxury by small savings; the geese and our blessed Saviour, by an ample display of good

grocery thus insured is prodigious, and any grocer's will towards our fellow-men. And here, a hint from

shop window, in the lowness of its prices, com

dared with those of forty years since, will give you old Fuller may not be out of place: “ Hospitality

a better idea of the blessings of peace, than a folio is three-fold: for one's family; this is of neces- l of history. The Smithfield Club Cattle Show, sitie: for strangers; this is of courtesie: for the though somewhat “overgrown," reminds us of the poor; this is charity.”

improved methods of feeding and fattening, and At no period of the year is the exercise of this throws into the shade the lean kine of other days, kindly virtue so directly prompted by association when the killing of an ox was an event. Again, and right feeling, as at Christmas. By the season

the prize beef may be an excess, but it is the means

of improving the quality of meat generally. itself, the wants and necessities of the poor are

Some outward signs are preserved to us; the increased, not unfrequently, to distressing extre- waits perambulate our streets, not playing the mity. From the palace to the prison, from the humdrum of the last century, but the Italian hall to the humble home, there are countless Opera airs of the last season; holly, mistletoe, opportunities for the practice of Fuller's third and evergreens, are brought in cartloads to deck hospitality. Hence, one of the best indications of our churches and houses, as the natural gratitude the approach of Christmas is the distribution of of the season. Among the old Romans these were

the emblems of peace, joy, and victory; in the fuel, food, and clothing, by those, who, blessed

Christian sense they may be applied to the victory with this world's wealth, really “enjoy the luxury | gained over the powers of darkness by the coming of doing good.” The yule-logs may not blaze of Christ. upon the hall-hearth so numerously as of old;! Our artist has illustrated most picturesquely, the the apportioning of “firing" to our poorer neigh- going out to gather the mistletoe of the oak, bours will gladden their hearths, and light up

grounded, as Colden thinks, “on the Druidical even the gloom of poverty. Meat is another

custom :” he has given us, too, the rustic mirth of

the occasion by way of episode. acceptable boon; the ox is not roasted whole, as

The holiday sights and amusements for young heretofore; as the maxim-monger says, it proclaims | folks have, in our time, greatly improved. Our plenty of labour and invention, but affords less of public exhibitions are worth a century of the shows what is delicate, savoury, and well concocted, than of old; that is, if rational delight be superior to smaller pieces," at home. And the provision of boisterous mirth ard " misrule." The noisy snapaddlitional clothing at this season, will not only in

dragon has, to some extent, gone out; but is more crease the comfort of home, but personal neatness,

than compensated by “the Christmas Tree," an im

portation, originally from Germany. This tree has one of the best indications of good order.

now become a fashionable toy of the season: it is All these gifts will be well bestowed upon those entirely artificial, and intermixed with the leaves

and branches are confectionary fruit-as cherries “Poor, yet industrious, modest, quiet, neat.”

filled with liqueurs, and bon-bons of extraordinary Yet there is another class who should not be for

sagacity; and sometimes, the branches are hung gotten. The inmate of the prison, he who may

with tiny lamps, which when lighted have a charm

Jing effect. These trees are costly, however: last have forfeited his claim to the bounty of his fellow

vear we saw one, price several guineas, about to be men, if not left uncheery at this festive season, but sent to Windsor Castle, for the amusement of her regaled with some of its goods, may have recalled to majesty's children. his mind the holiness of the day, and thus be led The church bells right merrily ring in Christmas to reformation. Such would, indeed, be one of the as heretofore: we have often passed the eve close brightest hospitalities of Christmas! For, as the to St. Bride's church, when the midnight pcal of old divine says: “If these little impulses set the its famed bells has somewhat saddened our excited great wheel of devotion on work, the largeness and senses: it was scarcely possible to hear this “mosaic beight of that shall not be at all prejudiced by the of the air," without being carried on to the sacredsmallness of its occasion. If the fire burns bright ness of the day. and vigorously, it's no matter by what means it was! At length, the morning breaks, and those

who are

“ windpipes of hospitality,” countless chim-I Rose had never had much schooling; but her grand. neys, smoke with the preparatory cheer : the mother, who lived in the same house, taught her to! pudding, (upon which the grave Johnson meditated read and spell; her mother to hem and sew, and also, profoundly,) requires long boiling, and the fires as soon as she was old enough, to assist her in laundry must be lighted early. The church bells proclaim

work; for Mrs. Martin took in washing from the Great the hour of service, though not until the distribu

House, as it was called. At odd times Rose worked tion of gifts has taken place at the church: where

under her father, weeding the shrubberies, sweeping up may be seen the minister of our holy religion,

dead leaves, or gathering peas and beans. Upon the

whole, she led a very easy life, for her work was nera i dispensing gifts and goods placed at his disposal,

hard, and she had plenty of good wholesome food to eat. recorded in letters of gold upon the church walls ;

Mr. Stanley had several children, but they were all or from a fund raised for the season, and headed

grown up, and most of them settled in the world; one by his own benevolence; such being old Fuller's | little girl there was, however, belonging to the Great third hospitality—“ for the poore; this is charity.” | House, of the same age as Rose, that is to say, about How many thousands of pounds are thus annually I ten or eleven years old. This was Miss Grace Stanley, distributed through the length and breadth of the who, having lost both her parents, was brought up by land, at each returning Christmas, it were vain to her grandfather. Most part of her time was spent at attempt to tell ; and long may the amount thus | school; but at Christmas and Midsummer Miss Grace bafile calculation !

always came home for the holidays, and on such occa. Abroad there is a healthy stir: faces are brighter

sions, so soon as she had looked about her, run up and than usual, and those of the very poor beam with

down stairs, and talked to everybody in the house, che gladness; the church, too, is dight with festivity;

usually made her way to the gardener's cottage, to talk the psalms, and hymns, and spiritual songs,” tell

to Rose's mother, and old Mrs. Martin, who had been :

her papa's nurse,-play with the kittens, if there chanced of the day ; the sermon discourses of its duties

to be any, and feed the rabbits. Now I may as well tell and its pleasures; the blessing succeeds, then the

ne blessing succeeds, then the you at once that Miss Grace was rather too fond of Holy Communion; and all depart to carry the pre- talking, and indeed, of listening also; for she liked to cepts, the good seed, to homes and bosoms. The hear every thing, and what she heard she commonly dinner follows; perchance the landscape is clothed / repeated to the first person that came in her way. with snow, or the “eager' air reminds those about! « Oh dear! Mrs. Martin,” said Miss Grace, on one of to partake of the feast, of the privations of others; these holiday visits, “ do you know that I got into such the blessing is asked, the repast proceeds: thé a scrape this last half ! at least I was very near being frosted pudding is brought in with a sort of tri-in umph, as the saucy boar's head was in days of old,

“Dear! dear!” said old Mrs. Martin, in repir, with sound of trumpet. The children long to

| “ I am sorry to hear you say that, Miss Grace." shout, the grown guests rejoice in their way; and teachers-cross toad!

“ And it was all through Miss Cox, one of our thus the day is passed. Will any one say this « Oh ! Miss Grace, my dear, what a word was that to "" is not “Merrie England ?"

| come out of a young lady's mouth!” Our artist, too, has commemorated the olden « Why, dear me! what signifies? we are not so par ceremony of bringing in the soused boar's head. ticular at school; besides, it was nothing so very bad At the Temple dinners, Dugdale tells us, “at the after all-and I have brought home another prize book, , first course is served in a fair and large bore's Mrs. Martin-Miss More's Sacred Dramas, with a ! head upon a silver platter, with minstrelsave.” | picture at the beginning of Moses in the bull-rushes: 1 The custom is retained to this day, at Queen's will bring it next time I come, to show you, Mrs. College, Oxford, where a boar's head, fairly deco | Martin,- but I was going to say something, what was rated, is on every Christmas Day carried in pro

it? Oh, I know, it was about Miss Cox." cession into the Hall, accompanied by the singing

But before Miss Grace Stanley could proceed, yonng If of a carol, “with many innovations," from Wyn

Mrs. Martin bade Rose take her elbows off the table, ,

and run into the orchard to fetch some more clothes to be kyn de Worde's celebrated collection.

folded, instead of sitting there, staring in that rude « With bore's heade in hande bring I,

way. With garlandes gay and rosemary;

Rose, to be sure, had opened her eyes pretty wide as I pray you all synge merely,

she listened to the discourse of Miss Grace, and she Qui estis in conririo."

would much rather have stayed where she was to bear what would come next, but she knew she must do her

mother's bidding ; so she went, and, almost at the same Reading for the Young.

moment, the young lady, getting a sight from the

window of some person on horseback riding towards THE CHRISTMAS-BOX.

the stable yard, forgot again what she was going to say: 11

she wondered who it could possibly be ; whether grandRose Martin's father lived in the service of Mr. papa had been out riding; but she rather thought not ; Stanley, as gardener; he had the use of a very com- or perhaps it was Mr. Newton, the doctor, who generally fortable roomy cottage, which stood near the gardens | rode up the back way to the house, and she knew that of his master, and a more pleasant situation could not the under housemaid was ill; but then, this gentleman well be found. On either side were meadows and was taller than Mr. Newton; she thought she would run plantations; in front a good bit of ground for a garden, home, and inquire about it. So, with a hasty "good | and at the back a small orchard. The garden was filled bye," she skipped out of the house, down the garden with all sorts of things: there were vegetables in plenty; path, and was soon out of sight. raspberry, currant, and gooseberry bushes; early in the When Miss Grace reached home, she was told that year it was gay with spring flowers, and later in the her uncle Henry, of whom she was extremely fond, had ! seas

in china asters and dahlias. Besides all these, / arrived, and was then in the library, with her grand 1 there was a goodly row of bee-hives; and hutches, filled papa ; so giving her shoes a hasty rub on the door mat, with rabbits, were piled one upon another. Between she rushed across the hall, and into the library, just as this garden and the pleasure-ground of Mr. Stanley, a | her uncle finished what he was saying, with these words, smooth gravel road led up to the stables, and other “ I shall give them to her to-morrow by way of a Christ. outbuildings.

| mas-box." Miss Grace heard this quite distinctly, and

n wit

made sure that the words related to some present in-1 “How large was it?" asked the young lady. tended for herself.

" Why, I can't justly say, miss; it warn't very big; Wr. Henry Stanley was always very kind to his little about the length, may be, of father's pruning knile, nieve, and, after he had kissed and talked to her for and may be as broad as three of my fingers.” some time in a very amusing way, he took from his L“ Did you see which way uncle Henry went, Rose, peket a small paper parcel, and, placing it in her hand, when he left your house ?" . said, he hoped she was not grown too much of a woman “ Yes, miss; I see him get over the stile into Bush to eat sugar-plums. Charming sugar-plums they were, mead, and he took the path as goes down to the both to the look and taste; the box too, which con- Vicarage. May be, miss, the parcel was for one of Mr. tained them, was ornamented with cut paper, and had a Thompson's children.” rery pretty coloured print on the top of the lid, with a “ Why, that may be, Rose, for little Selina Thomp. piece of looking-glass inside. But, though Miss Grace son is grandpapa's godchild. Very likely he got thanked her uncle, and admired the box, she did uncle Henry to buy something for her in London, neither so heartily as she would have done, had she not a necklace, perhaps, or a silver-gilt knife and fork, like been thinking of the present intended to be given her that he gave my little cousin Charles Anstey_” but the following day, and which she took for granted would Rose could stay no longer, for they had reached the be something of more value than a box of sugar-plums; gate, and she saw her mother looking out for her. something, in short, worthy to be called a Christmas Miss Grace walked slowly back, pondering upon what box. So impatient was she to have her curiosity satis. she had just hcard, and feeling rather vexed at the idea fied on this point, that, unable to contain herself, she of the present being intended, after all, for Mr. Thomprentured to ask her uncle if he had brought her any son's little girl, instead of herself. She had got some thing else.

way towards the house, when she met Mr. Stanley : he " What! in my pocket!” he exclaimed. “A likely was going down to the village on business, and told Miss story. It is not every uncle would have cumbered Grace she might, if she pleased, walk with him. This himself with a box of sugar-plums, I can tell you, Miss she was ready enough to do, and so they proceeded Grice."

together. All the trees and shrubs were covered with The young lady did not dare say another word, but hoar frost, and glistened brightly whenever the sun she still thought, that, as her uncle had not positively glanced upon them; every spray was crusted over with denied it, something might be forthcoming on the some fantastic shape; every blade of grass stood up stiff MOITOT.

as a frozen spear, while the tall bents drooped their heads, When the morning came, and she met her grandpapa and looked like feathers powdered with snow. Mr. Stanley and uncle at breakfast, she still thought the same, noticed some of these beautiful objects to his little grandthough to her disappointment the latter, soon after that daughter; and then he talked to her about the dinner meal, left the house, and she saw him no more for some the school-children were to have the following day; of hours,

the new warm cloaks to be given afterwards to the girls, It was winter; the ground was frozen hard, and a and which he proposed she should assist the housekeeper little snow had fallen in the night; about noon, how to distribute. When they left the plantations, and got ever, the sun shone out brightly, and Miss Grace, into the lane leading to the village, they met many of wrapping herself up in her warmest shawl, and taking their poor neighbours; the women going to the Great in her hand a piece of plain cake for her luncheon, House, for portions of beef for themselves and families ; tripped down the shrubbery, and took the path leading boys and girls carrying bundles of holly and mistletoe, w ihe kitchen garden.

to be set up in the servants' hall, where they were to Whisking round the corner of the tool-house, she dine on Christmas day. Mr. Stanley stopped to speak nearly ran against Rose Martin, who had been sent to to some amongst them, and, as he walked on, repeated to tell her father that his dinner was ready, and mother Miss Grace some verses about Christmas, which he desired he would come and eat it whilst it was hot. thought she would understand and like. The following Martin, though rather apt to try his wife's patience in were some of the lines :this particular, by stopping to finish something or

“Ileap on more wood! the wind is chill, other, had this time set off at once, and Rose was fol

But let it whistle as it will, lowing, when met by Miss Grace, who presently re

We'll keep our Christmas merry still. folved on going with her to the little gate which

And weil our Christian sires of old opened from the shrubbery just opposite the gardener's

Lord when the year its course had roll'd, house. Glad to have found a listener, she chatted away

And brought blithe Christmas back again, to Rose, telling her all about her uncle Henry's coming

With all its hospitable train. the day before, his giving her a box of sugar-plums,

Domestic and religious rite, and her expectation of a handsome Christmas-box,

Gave honour to the holy night, which she had not yet seen. Rose at first was rather

That, to the cottage as the crown, shy of talking to the young lady, for she had been

Brought tidings of salvation down." brought up to be humble and respectful, or, in the And no doubt Miss Grace would have thought them Words of the Church Catechism, to “order herself lowly very pretty, had she listened as attentively as she ought and reverently to all her betters," but, encouraged by to have done; but her mind was so full of her own little the free and easy manner of Miss Grace, she began to prying and selfish thoughts, that she heard not much of talk in her turn, feeling at the same time that all this what her grandpapa said during the whole of their walk, familiarity was not quite proper. Mr. Henry Stanley and was only longing for some good opportunity of had called at their house, she said, that very morning; bringing forward the subject which at that time was grandmother was poorly, and mother had persuaded | | most interesting to herself. her not to get up at her usual time. Rose, by her Yet Miss Grace was not, on the whole, and in her mother's orders, had taken old Mrs. Martin a cup of general behaviour, what might justly be called a naughty tea and a morsel of toast, so she was up stairs when child ; she had no perverseness of temper, was neither Mr. Henry walked in, and, just as she came back, he passionate nor sulky, and seldom disobedient; but she was going out at the door ; she heard him say, however, had been, from her infancy, too much indulged, and, "I shall like to give it her myself.”

although taught to believe and know many things that “ Dear me, Rose, you don't say so !” exclaimed Miss were right, she had never been told it was a duty to

deny herself. Self-indulgent she went to school, and, as “Yes, miss, it's all quite true as I tell you, and it was too much the plan there for everybody to take care | I noticed that Mr. Henry had in his hand a parcel done of number one, self-indulgent, to the best of her power, up in whitish paper, and sealed with red wax.

she continued. Quick at learning, she was seldom

Grace.

troublesome at her lessons; but then, as she could get / and was now frozen over; and that she had seen somethem by heart in what she was pleased to call "no time,” | thing white lying among the rushes, near the edge of she trified away many a quarter of an hour, and at last the ice, which she at first took for a cotton glove. Howhurried over her task without thought or care. The ever, on going round to the spot, she found it was the consequence of all this was, that neither her governees same parcel she had seen in Mr. Henry's hand." nor the teachers knew very well what to say about her; " But how could it get there, Rose?" inquired Miss for, when they sent her home for the holidays with a fair | Grace. character, it was still with the belief that she might “Why, Miss, Anne Goddard told me as how she saw have done much better, had she pleased. So it was, also, Mr. Henry skating on the ice this morning, with some with her schoolfellows ; inasmuch as Grace Stanley was more gentlefolk, and, may be, he dropped the parcel out lively, fond of play, and not apt to quarrel, they liked of his pocket.” her ; but not nearly so much as they would have done, “Yes, yes, to be sure he did ; I recollect now hearing had she been less selfish, and more mindful of others. | him inquire for his skates soon after breakfast: he asked

However, to go on with her present history. A distant Robert if he knew where to find them. But what is view of Mr. Thompson, when they reached the village, it you intend doing with the parcel, Rose ?" encouraged her to say,

"Oh, miss, I was going to take it to the Great Ilouse, “ Grandpapa, is not little Sclina Thompson your god and give it to the butler for Mr. Henry, only, as you daughter?"

seemed so curious, I thought I would just let you have “ Yes, my dear ; why do you ask ?”

a sight of it first." " Why," answered Miss Grace, with some hesitation, | “Well, Rose, that was right, but let me have it in my “I thought perhaps you made her a present sometimes, hand, please ; I want just to feel what it is like." Rose and I wondered what you could give such a little girl.” gave the parcel, but Miss Grace handled it so long, and

"Indeed, Grace," said Mr. Stanley, “ I don't remember squeezed it so hard, that Rose began to be frightened that I have ever given her any thing, but a Noah's lest it should come open, and could not help crying out, Ark; when she is a little older, I must get her a " Oh, dearey me, miss! mind as you don't break the handsome Bible and Prayer-book, I suppose. Do you not wax. Father says 'tis hanging matter to break open a think that will be the right sort of present from a god-sealed letter, and may be a sealed parcel is just the father, Grace? and I am glad,” continued Mr. Stanley, same." after Miss Grace had answered, “ Yes," looking kindly “ Nonsense, Rose !" answered Miss Grace, looking at her, " that my little grand-daughter does not wish much offended; " what stuff'! as if a young lady could to have all the presents made to herself.”

do any thing to make her be hanged ! It is very disMiss Grace felt ashamed, for she knew that she did honourable though to break open a scal, I know that, not deserve this praise. However, after a short silence, and I am not going to do any such thing. I should like she began again --- Selina is such a pretty little thing though, if you don't mind, to give the parcel to uncle ! she was, at least, when I was at home last summer, — Henry myself.” don't you think so, grandpapa?"

“No, miss, please, I had rather not." “Yes, my dear, she is a fine little girl."

* Oh! I suppose you think my uncle will give you "I wonder what uncle Henry thinks of her.”

something for finding it." You can ask him, Grace, if you please, but you must “ No, miss, it ain't for that, and I don't desire any not be surprised to hear him say that he never thought such a thing.” about her at all."

“Well, but Rose, should not you like to know what there “Well,” thought Miss Grace to herself, “ I don't sup-is inside? Now, if I take the parcel to my uncle, he pose the parcel was for Selina after all."

will be so pleased to have it again, that most likely Instead of going home through the plantation, Mr. he will tell me, and you may depend on it, Rose, if he Stanley turned up the road which led to the gardener's does, that you shall know all about it too." house, having something to say to old Mrs. Martin. “ La ! Miss Grace ! it's nothing as concerns me, I'll Rose was standing in the porch, and, as they passed, she be bound to say; and, I don't mind a farthing whether gave Miss Grace a pull by the shawl. Before that day, 'tis one thing or another. All I care for is, Mr. Henry's Rose would not have thought of taking such a liberty. getting the parcel safe.”. Grace stopped, and looked round, instead of following “ That's right, Rose, keep to that,” said Mr. Henry Mr. Stanley into the house, and Rose, taking the other Stanley, who had entered the walk without being heard hand from beneath her pinafore, showed a small par- or seen, and had been standing for some moments near cel sealed with a red seal. “Dear me !" Rose began; the two children, though they were too much engaged but Mrs. Martin came from the kitchen to be she in their talk to observe him. Both Miss Grace and would not stand out in the cold. So Miss Grace, though Rose started at the sound of his voice, and both felt much against her will, was obliged to enter the house. ashamed, though Rose was, with reason, the least so of Mr. Stanley did not stay long, and when they reached the two. After a short silence, Mr. Henry said, “ You the end of the garden path, Rose was holding open the may go home, Rose ; I am not angry with you ; I believe gate. Miss Grace began to despair; she longed, with you have done nothing more than listen, and perhaps all her heart, to question Rose, but how to stay behind talk too much to a young lady who ought to have set her grandpapa, she knew not. The matter was how you a better example, and I am much obliged to you for ever settled unexpectedly in her favour, by Mr. Stanley's taking such good care of my property." saying, “Grace, my dear, I am going home by the sta- Rose did not wait for another word, but dropping a bles and rick-yard, but I do not wish you to come with courtesy as she passed the gentleman, set off with all me; you have been out of doors long enough this cold speed. day, run home through the shrubbery." With these Miss Grace stood as still as if she had been frozen to words Mr. Stanley proceeded towards the stable-yard, the spot; her eyes bent on the ground, and the tears and Miss Grace crossed over to the shrubbery gate, from trickling from them down her cheeks. In silence she whence she beckoned to Rose to follow her. The walk put the parcel into her uncle's hand, hoping he would within side the gate soon made a short turn, bending round walk on to the house, and leave her to follow : such a clump of tall evergreens, and, close to these, bid from however was not his intention. the road, and sheltered from the cold north wind, the “ You had better come on, Grace, it is too cold to two little girls placed themselves, the one as ready to stand still; I suspect you have been standing too long tell as the other was impatient to hear. Rose related already. What has made you so intimate with Rose how she had gone to warm herself with a slide at the Martin?" he continued, as they moved on, side by bottom of Rush mead, where the water had been out, side.

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