ping burden in haste to the hall. On his way thither he was met by his master, who took his child without a word on either side. True grief is dumb.

The thoughtful mother had a medical man in attendance, but it was of no avail.

To attempt the impossible is folly, and no pen can describe the wild anguish of that hour: for such grief there is no expression in human speech. Neither was able to comfort the other, and it were profane for a stranger to meddle with the grief of those whom God has stricken.

It appeared that the children had wandered to the old elm under which they had been sitting in the morning, for there was found some fruit which they had had with them when they left the shepherd's cottage; that, when the storm burst, they hastily returned; and it was most probable that, as one assisted the other over the style, both fell into the stream. Precious children! together they entered on this earthly scene, together they lived. "Very lovely and pleasant were they in their lives, and in death they were not divided." They were borne amid many tears and much wailing to the old churchyard, where, as was meet, they laid them side by side. And loud sobs and lamentations broke forth over those white coffins; and long, long afterwards did the villagers turn from their path to shed a tear on the turf beneath which lay the flowers of St. Chad. Beauteous children! God's

acre is thickly sown with such; they are lent to earth awhile by their Redeemer, to be signed with his cross, to learn his name and lisp his prayer. We could not do without them: earth would be more desolate without its daisies than its roses.

The grief of good honest John Wade was undemonstrative, but consuming. He appeared no more among the singers at church, and he would travel a mile round to avoid the stile where erst the bright form of Agnes was sure to greet him. Nanny found it expedient to bake but half the usual quantity of bread, and was requested to place the buttons on her son's waistcoat "full two inches" further backward; but he came in and out as usual, speaking little of his lost one, though his countenance wore that deep sadness by which the heart is made better.

It was otherwise with the bereaved parents: their "tears were their meat day and night!" But take comfort, ye that mourn! The dark shadow that has fallen athwart your path will grow less sombre, as time with sure balm

passes on

"Oh not in cruelty, not in wrath The reaper came that day; 'Twas an angel visited the green earth And took the flowers away."

ELSIE.

FAIRY LILLA.

(Founded on Fact.)

BY HANNAH CLAY.

"Mamma, dear Mamma; Nurse is so cross! I only asked her to take me up that pretty field where there are so many wild roses in the hedge, and where the golden gorse-blossoms are smelling so sweetly, and she will not, Mamma dear. Is it not very unkind?"

Mrs. Gray placed her hand soothingly upon the long fair locks of her little daughter. These pale yellow ringlets, that fell around her white dimpled shoulders-her extreme beauty-her slight form and agility-had induced her loving friends to add to the pretty name of Lilla the designation of "Fairy;" and Fairy Lilla the sweet child was commonly called. She was always dressed in white, with a green or pink sash; and sported like a sylph among the many-hued flowers planted in the garden of her rustic home.

Lilla and her parents had not always lived thus, in a small cottage nestled at the foot of one of the picturesque hills of the Isle of Man. The little girl could remember a magnificent

home across the sea, where she rode out in a carriage every day, and had several servants to wait upon her. But this grand English mansion was now associated in her young mind with pale, mournful faces-a father's stern misery-a mother's tears; and she loved not to think of it. She had been much happier since her parents had removed to their present abode, where there was more liberty and more amusement-at any rate for little girls; where she was not cooped up in a fine nursery away from her dear Mamma, but could enjoy her society almost all the day long. And yet there were little trifling vexations to bear, even now; and one of these was a fixed idea of Nurse's, that Miss Lilla ought to be contented with the garden during play-hours, and not wish to stray beyond it. Often and often had the child desired to climb the green hill behind the house, and to gather the primroses and violets, the wild roses, and (in their season) the blackberries and bilberries that embellished its high fences, or spread over its turfy banks; and still Nurse had obstinately refused compliance.

"Where was the pleasure," said the matterof-fact old woman, "of scrambling over the rough stones, and wetting oneself in the long

damp grass and boggy places?" And whenever she took her young lady out for a walk, she was pretty sure to turn in the direction of the well-kept lane that led to the village street, or over the bare common that skirted the riverside; and neither of these walks presented variety enough to please Lilla's vivid imagination. If, indeed, the little girl might have paddled among the smooth pebbles at the shallow streamlet's brink-if she might have crossed the picturesque old weir, half in ruins as it was, or hung over the stiller depths and pools of the water, to gaze upon her own bright face in their crystal recesses-then would the little craving mind have been more than satisfied, and the monotony of the remainder of the walk been cheerfully borne with.

But Nurse feared that Lilla might fall into the water and be drowned; or at least that she might be wetted in the stream, her white frock soiled, and her tiny shoes stained with wet gravel; so Lilla was carefully withheld from the margin of the river.

Her mamma was quite aware of Nurse's crossgrained peculiarities; yet nevertheless she valued the old woman for her long and faithful services in the family, and wished to conciliate, while she commanded, her. So she sent for her now, and begged her to do her the favour of taking Lilla a little way up the hill, where the sheep had nibbled the grass so short and smooth.

"You had used to be a great lover of the country when I was a little girl, Nurse," she said. "Do you not remember that pleasant day when we went out on the moors in poor Mamma's pony-phaeton, with old John to drive us; and we gathered two great baskets of bilberries? You were a pretty, lively young woman then, Nurse, and I fear I was a very troublesome child."

"Oh no! dear mistress," replied old Nurse; her dim eyes filling with tears as she remembered how different had been the position of her beloved lady at the period of which she spoke. "Oh no! you were as mild as a lamb, poor darling; and our sweet Miss Lilla here is not a naughty child, although I do think it right to be a little strict with her, and keep her ladylike now we have come to this poor place. And as she has such a great wish for it, and the day is very warm and dry, if you please I can pack some luncheon in a little basket, and she shall play on the hill-side all the afternoon."

Lilla was delighted with this proposal. Her mantelet and large hat were soon put on; and she was on her way with Nurse, who felt all the happier and better for having made a gracious concession to the will of others--as we all of us do: indeed, this is a recipe for happiness that I would strongly recommend to you, my dear young readers; save in the rare cases when such concessions would interfere with higher duties.

Lilla went on her way with Nurse, to the rustic gate behind the grounds, which opened on to the sheep-pasture on the hill-side. The little girl was so grateful for the old woman's compliance with her wish, that she offered to

carry the basket for her; but this Nurse would not permit, fearing that she might drop it, and break the bottle of rich new-milk from their pretty Alderney cow. So Lilla, freed from all responsibility, went gambolling on before; now stopping to watch a bee, buried deep in the handsome blossom of a foxglove; now chasing one of the gorgeous purple-and-crimson butterflies that abounded in the neighbourhood. And so they passed through the groups of wild thyme, cheerful little golden crowsfeet, deep azure gelias, and purple harebells, and the low bushes wreathed with small white roses, until they approached the gate, formed of rough unhewn branches, and embosomed in the heather and blossoming gorse that overgrew the high earthen bank on either side. Once through this, the wind blew across the hill freshly and sweetly upon them; and the grass, shorn close by the teeth of the mountain-sheep and lambs, was smooth as a carpet to walk upon.

Nurse, cheerily bearing a conscience that approved her unwonted good-humour, stepped merrily along, and up climbed the pair-up, up, up-much further than mamma had anticipated, until a large portion of the smiling landscape lay at their feet; and four miles out to the north stretched a line of blue ocean, with the snowy sails that flecked its bosom plainly discernible, as well as the long line of smoke that marked the progress of a large steamer along the edge of the horizon.

"Oh! Nurse," exclaimed Lilla, as she laid aside her large hat, and smoothed back her disordered ringlets, "is not this delightful? And here is such a nice large flat stone, just proper to spread our luncheon upon. Shall we have it now, Nurse? I am so hungry."

In her new-found docility and obligingness, Nurse did not refuse this request, made with a rosy cheek pressed close to hers, and a pair of large blue eyes looking smilingly into her own. The luncheon consisted of sandwiches, greencurrant tart, and strawberries from Lilla's own strawberry border; together with the bottle of rich new milk, aforesaid. Lilla assisted to spread the snow-white cloth, and place the plates and glasses; whilst Nurse sought out a spring that ran gurgling down the hill not far off, betraying its presence by its own sweet music, and returned with a large silver cupful of the limpid water. Then the two shared the simple repast, not forgetting, as Nurse had piously taught her little girl, to thank the Giver of all good gifts for the bounties and glories so freely spread around and before them.

After luncheon, Nurse, who was a wellinformed woman in her way, and very fond of reading, turned up some of the larger stones that lay near them, and shewed Lilla the nests of ants beneath. There were large black ants and small light brown ones, and every nest contained numberless grubs, much like grains of rice in appearance. The moment a stone was turned and the nest exposed, every ant seized a grub between its forceps and hurried with it down some circular underground passages,

which communicated with the nest. This operation was repeated with wonderful order, precision, and agility, no one ant appearing in the least puzzled, or by any chance interfering with another, until all the grubs were safe under ground. Then Nurse mercifully laid the stone softly in its place, and leaving the busy workers to bring up their babies again at their leisure, seated Lilla beside her on a turfy bank, and told her many stories of ants and their marvellous sagacity.

"Dear Nurse!" exclaimed Lilla, as soon as the old woman had concluded her narrations, "do look at that wild rose-bush, crowded with roses to the very top! Oh! I should so like to gather some of those clusters of half-blown ones, high up there; do you not see them, Nurse ?"

Yes, Nurse saw them; but how were they to be reached? for they were far above Nurse's own head. However, a little contrivance will do wonders. The little girl climbed Nurse's substantial shoulders, somewhat to the disturbance of Nurse's nicely starched and plaited muslin kerchief, and sat there like a whiterobed sylph. The coveted blossoms were just within reach; but what is it a little below that attracts Lilla's whole attention, to the forgetfulness of her first object?

"Nurse! Nurse! there is a blackbird on its nest, just here, in the very middle of the rosebush. Such a snug little place! And, oh! Nurse, she sits quite still, and lets me put my hand on her back. Do look at her, and stroke her, pretty tame thing; but gently, gently, Nurse, if you please."

Nurse did as she was desired, and stroked the poor bird; and though the little creature trembled and panted, as if its very heart would burst, it was very true-and it is a fact that I am relating that the blackbird did not move, but sat close on her nest of eggs, intending, if need were, to defend them with her own life. So Nurse and Lilla, in great wonder and admiration, left the faithful mother to her devotion and matronly happiness; and, gathering a large bouquet of wild roses and buds, returned to take up their luncheon basket, and make their way home.

The winter of that year was a very stormy one, and many hundred birds in the Isle of Man were frozen to death. One day, as Lilla, in warm wraps and a wadded bonnet, was sitting in the sheltered porch of her home, learning her lessons and eating a bun for luncheon, a little robin came close to her feet, stole a large crumb, and ran away with it. Seeing this, Lilla crumbled some more on purpose for him, which he disposed of after the same fashion; and soon a little half-starved comrade joined him, and then another, and so on, until there were halfa-dozen hopping about Lilla's feet, who took care to sit as still as a mouse, not to frighten her visitors away. Afterwards her mamma frequently gave her leave to sit in the same place at the same hour, and she was never without her levee of small birds, who gratefully ate the fragments she strewed for them. And when the

long, warm summer came, fragrant with flowers and musical with the lays of a thousand little warbling songsters, Lilla would frequently say to her nurse, as she walked beside her over the common, or along the green lanes, "Hearken! Nurse dear, there are some of my own little birds thanking me for preserving their lives during the dismal frost and snow." And Nurse would reply, "Yes, my dear little miss ; your mamma used to have a handsome aviary at our splendid hall away over the sea; but I doubt if she had more pleasure in feeding her birds within their gilded wires than you have experienced in preserving these poor little wild things for the happiness of another summer."

THE THREE TEACHERS.*

BY MRS. ABDY.

The world is a school where all gain education,
So wise is its Master's beneficent plan;
Though lowly in birth, and though humble in station,
Three Teachers are early provided for Man.

If sadly he sorrow o'er Fortune's desertion,
Necessity fails not an impulse to give,
That nerves him, by active, assiduous exertion,
In honoured and free independence to live.

Perchance he may sigh for the pastimes of leisure;
But Habit draws nigh-By her power he is led
In cheerful contentment to greet as a pleasure
The labour that once he regarded with dread.

Of duties, indeed, he must always be heedful,

But Time brings a storehouse of treasure each day; Time gives us an hour for all purposes needful, Unless in dull languor we dream it away.

My friends, by these teachers be ever directed—
Though rigid and stern be Necessity's rule,
What virtues are cherished, what errors corrected,
What talents drawn forth in her wonderful school!

And Habit, whose spell is so softly enthralling,

Pause well ere you court her mysterious ties; To the idle and weak they are heavy and galling, But pleasant and light to the good and the wise.

Time flies: then to useful and meet occupations
Devote the swift hours, and let actions of love
Be mingled with prayerful, devout aspirations

For a kingdom of glory and gladness above.

Farewell! you can never be quite unbefriended, Though far from your kindred, your home, and your clime,

If still by Three Teachers your steps are attended, So great as Necessity, Habit, and Time!

*These lines were suggested by a passage in the Rev. Dr. Croly's "Salathiel."