their own, could not, it would seem, afford any affection to their niece. Again, if Mary brought to school any little rarity, in the way of fruit or confectionary, she was sure to divide it with Katy, who had nothing but expressions of gratitude to render her friend in return for her kindness; and Mary, who knew them to be sincere, was more than satisfied with the requital.

Our little heroine, though, poor thing, she had none of the qualifications for one except her beauty, was shortly threatened with the loss of the only friend she could be said to possess. Mary Fallowfield's father died suddenly, and left his affairs in so embarrassed a state, that, when everything was sold, the produce was not more than sufficient to pay his debts, and no refuge was left to his friendless daughter but the workhouse.

On the evening previous to the day on which she was to have been conducted thither, she proposed to visit her father's grave, and requested Katy to accompany her. It was a calm and beautiful evening, and the bells of a neighbouring village were sending forth their melancholy harmony, as the two friends were seated upon the fresh turf, weeping bitterly-the one

for sorrow, and the other for sympathy. Their attention was diverted by the opening of the little wicket gate, at the entrance of the churchyard, and the appearance of a gentleman, a stranger to them both. He advanced to the spot where they were sitting, and after looking on their countenances alternately, with great earnestness, he inquired of Katy her name; and on hearing her reply, he took her up in his arms, pressed her to his bosom, and covering her face with eager kisses, called her his darling daughter.

He then told her that he had returned to England, with the means of remaining in it, and that, for her sake, he would never quit it again. He was about to lead her away, but observing the wistful look she cast upon her friend, and her reluctance to part from her, he inquired of his daughter who the other little girl was. Katy replied, "It is Mary Fallowfield, who always takes my part against the naughty girls at school, and gives me half her fruit and gingerbread, and kisses me when my aunt or governess is cross; and she is so kind to me, you can't think; and they are going to take her to the workhouse, because her father

is dead-but indeed she did not make him die. Oh! if you are really my papa, do not let them take her there, and dress her in those nasty brown frocks."

The stranger looked at them, for some moments, in silence, and then, taking a hand of each, he led them away to the inn; where, after having made some inquiries, he told Katy that she and her friend should not be parted, for that he would take Mary Fallowfield home to live with them-a resolution which cost Mrs. Birch a scholar and me a sweetheart. Thus the disinterested kindness of Mary Fallowfield to little Katy was abundantly rewarded, while the latter was gratified in retaining the society of her friend, from whom it would almost have broken her heart to have been separated.

As for their late governess, she continued to use the birch-broom until she swept her school clean of pupils, who were not found to have benefitted much by her system of tuition. Indeed, an opinion has of late been gaining ground, that a rod of birch, like one of glass, which my young readers may have seen among electrical apparatus, is, after all, a non-conductor

MODERATE PLEASURES.

BY MISS BREMER.

We

We

FAR, far down in the pass of the Clara Mountains, I dwelt with my sister Joanna. lived with an old aunt, who took us home after our father's death. She was very sickly and poor, and so could not do much for us. were generally left to an old woman, who had the charge of us; but she was a little severe, and a little sharp, and very deaf; so that we did not have many pleasant days with her. Nevertheless, we tried to amuse ourselves as well as we could. We had tamed a rat, so that, when we laid a bit of sugar on the stone by the stove, he would come out and eat it, whilst we stood in the other corner of the room. It is true that we dared scarcely breathe, but yet we were not a little flattered by his confidence in us. Bits of sugar were, however, in

these times rare treasures for us; and not more than two little pieces a week could we have for the rat and for our own eating. Sundays were great holydays with us; for then we had Eau de Cologne on the corners of our handkerchiefs, and butter to our potatoes at breakfast, and roast meat at dinner.

It was also among our pleasures that we could twice in the week walk an hour in the courtyard. But as people are seldom content with what they have, we were not satisfied with our amusements; and when summer arrived, and all the great people came out to their estates in the country, we took much pleasure in the idea of making a country residence for ourselves. We had sometimes followed the old woman into the cellar, and we had observed a place in the corner, on which the light struck from a certain air-hole open towards the garden. Here we planted a pea, one fine morning towards the end of May. For three weeks we went every day and sought out the place, moving the earth a little about it, to see whether the pea had not begun to sprout. Our delight was great when, on the twenty-fourth day after the planting, we saw a little swelling up of the earth, and under