In a pretty house, surrounded by a garden and fields, lived some little children with their Papa and Mamma. There were six of them in all; but the two I shall tell you the most about are Lucy and Arthur. Lucy was six years old, and Arthur five. Their eldest brother, John, was just gone to a large school; he was eleven years old: the second, Edward, went to school on Monday, and returned on Saturday; he was

about eight. Then came Lucy and Arthur, next William, and, last of all, Emma, who was quite a baby. They had a kind nurse, who had lived with them many years, and had nursed them all when they were babies, and now she took care of little Emma and William. Lucy and Arthur had a little maid of their own, named Susan, of whom they were very fond. She was so kind to them, told them such a number of pretty stories, knew so many hymns, and sang so many merry songs, that they were always happy with her. But one of their greatest amusements was a little pony which their Uncle George had given them; he was such a pet with all the children, and so patted and stroked, that their Mamma used often to say she wondered little Taff took it so

quietly. However, Taff (for that was the pony's name) seemed to like it very much, for directly he heard their voices outside the stable-door he would neigh a welcome; or if he was in the field and saw them in the garden, he would run to the paling and put his head over to be fondled; and when there was an apple to be had Taff was sure to have it.

Every morning after their breakfast these little children came down into the parlour, when their Papa read prayers the first thing. All the family were to be seen there but the baby and nurse, and even the smallest children behaved quietly, though they could not understand all that was said: however, they could kneel down and listen attentively, without stirring or whispering; and

they could join in the Lord's prayer when it was repeated. During their Papa and Mamma's breakfast, Lucy and Arthur behaved in a very pretty manner, not asking for anything, or staring with greedy eyes on the table, but standing or sitting near their Papa and Mamma, or playing quietly in the room if their Papa and Mamma were engaged talking or reading letters. Lucy was old enough to have a reason of her own for not asking, or even wishing for more than her own breakfast. There were a good many poor cottages near, and more than one family in the place were sometimes so much distressed for food, that they had been obliged to go to the workhouse for help. She had once seen a little girl of her own age belonging to one of these

families, looking very melancholy, about three o'clock in the afternoon, and Susan told little Lucy the reason was, that poor Hannah Green had had neither breakfast nor dinner all that day, and only some dry bread the day before. Lucy said nothing, but was very much shocked, and did not forget it. When her own supper time came, though she was ready for it as usual, she could not or would not eat it. Presently Susan observed this, and reminded the little girl that her Mamma did not like her to leave her food.

“I did not mean to leave it, Susan," said Lucy; "but," added she, colouring, "will you take it to Hannah Green?"

Susan understood directly what Lucy had in her head. She said she could not do as