Miss Lucy wished without asking her Mamma; who just then came in, and gave Lucy leave to send away her supper. Lucy felt ashamed of her Mamma knowing all about this, but was very glad to give her meal away to one who wanted it so much. more than herself. This pleasure lasted some time, till Lucy began to wonder at feeling a want of something, and without knowing why, kept turning her head every time the nursery door opened, no doubt expecting her supper. However, bed-time came, but not supper; and Lucy went to bed more hungry than she had ever been in her life. She could not sleep, and she was ready to cry. She thought somebody had behaved very unkindly to her, but could not tell who. She felt very cross:

then she remembered it was all her own choice; she ought to blame nobody but herself. And a new thought came into her head. If she was so hungry and uncomfortable missing only one meal, how much more so poor Hannah, and others like her, must often feel! Yet she never heard of these children complaining, and she often saw them playing merrily about. With such thoughts she fell fast asleep. Next morning she was very glad of her breakfast, but was ashamed when Susan observed upon her appetite; and afterwards she never liked to hear this little incident alluded to. I do not know if Lucy would have done the same again; but one thing was certain, that ever after this she had a great dislike of two things: one was wast

ing anything that was good to eat; the other, eating more than she really wanted. Thus we can see what was Lucy's own reason for not asking, or wishing for more than her own breakfast; and for the same reason she had asked her Mamma to let her collect together the crumbs after meals for the little birds, who were very glad of them, especially in winter, when the snow was on the ground. At this time it was quite curious to see the little creatures hop on the window ledge, and peep in to see if Lucy had their meal ready for them, for Lucy always carried the crumbs to them up in the nursery at the same time every day.

"Look! Susan, look!" cried little Arthur one day, as he was watching his sister feed her birds; "here come the birds again!"

"Yes, Master Arthur," said Susan, "they know their breakfast-time as well as you do yours, poor dumb things!"

"They are not dumb, Susan," said Arthur, "because they can sing."

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'And besides, Susan," continued Lucy, you sing a great many stories about Cock Robin and Jenny Wren, and they talk in these; so birds cannot be dumb."

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Ah, Miss Lucy," said Susan, "you know very well that is all make-believe, and only to amuse us now and then."

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Well, then, Miss Susan Make-believe," said Arthur, who, though so small, set up sometimes for a wit; "please to amuse us now, and sing some of your pretty songs about Jenny Wren. Sing about her brown gown, for I like that."

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Well, say please,' Arthur," said his sister, who was always afraid of her brother's liveliness making him rude.

Arthur said "please," and settled himself in such a way that any one could have told that he was not a rude boy, only full of fun; and Susan, who had a very sweet voice, and sang prettily, began at once the "Courtship of Cock Robin and Jenny Wren." I wish you could hear her, as Arthur and Lucy did, but as this is impossible, I will give you the verses, though you may know them, and you can fancy the pretty tune to which Susan sang them, as well as her nice pleasant way of singing.

"'T was once upon a time when Jenny Wren was young, So daintily she danced and so merrily she sung,