tion, striking the smith upon his brawny arms and face as well as on his leathern apron. They are interested by the contrast of the limited circle of fierce light around the forge, with the blackness of the material, the person of the smith, and the dim dusk of the windowless smithy. There is a mysterious sense of creative power and strength, a sort of sympathy with human triumph over difficulty, as the black bar, glowing red in the fierce heat, is shaped into the form desired. Not that children analyze, or ought to analyze, these sensations. They are present very vaguely to their minds, they heighten the interest of the moment, and years after, if we are wise enough to remember the feelings and experiences of infancy, we apprehend what we then felt, with a certain reverence for our own childish thoughts. It seems as if the angels whispered solemn thoughts into the heart of childhood, or rather, as if, like the sea-shell, which, they say

"Remembers its august abodes,

And murmurs as the ocean murmurs there,"

a faint remembrance of secrets brought out of the land of mystery lingered round our spirits in our infant days.

So Max and I watched the broad-shouldered, swarthy smith, bending into shape a shoe for one of Sir Harris Howard's carriage horses. We extricated ourselves from the folds of the warm cloak, and knelt upon the seat of our little carriage, watching the beautiful showers of great sparks struck out by every blow upon the anvil-admiring the smith as Max, a few years later in his boyish life, learned to admire every great conqueror. A "blessed is he that overcometh" was in our childish hearts. May the echo of that truth, in its sublimest

sense, be in my heart when the gates of life are closing behind my steps, and I catch the first faint vision of the great White

Throne !

We had watched the smith ten minutes, when the guard's horn sounded in the Market-place. The sound brought our father out of the reading-room. He was afraid the pony might prick his ears when the mail came through the archway.

"Stay quiet, children, till I come to you," he said. "Max, hold up your head, and speak to your cousin Lomax. Say, 'I am glad, sir, to see you back from Virginia.' You must be half a head taller since he left Castleton."

In came the mail—a sight which in those days gladdened the heart of every Briton. An express-train is as national, but we don't gaze on it with equal pride, thundering along with iron hoofs, its smoke, like the tail of the pale horse, floating, as it hurries on over hamlet, field, and river.

"Max, look after your sister," were our father's parting words, as he went towards the coach-door, already surrounded by a crowd of stable people.

My eyes were still attracted to the smithy, where there was more to interest me, than in cousin Lomax, a small, grey-haired, blue-eyed gentleman, who had never honored me with notice of any kind. I saw the smith take up the red-hot horse shoe with his pincers, and hold it over the hoof of Sir Harris Howard's horse. I trembled with sympathy for the poor animal if he should let it fall, and was turning round to impart the apprehension to my brother, when the smith gave an exclamation, and I followed the direction of his eyes. There was a bustle round the mail. I saw a figure the embodiment of bogy—very black, with large gilt ear-rings pendent on its neck, with a strange turbaned head-dress, without bonnet or hat, wringing its hands by

the coach-door. I was frightened at first, and pressed closer to my brother.

"Nonsense," said he. "It seems like the Arabian Nights; something is going to happen I dare say. Don't you remember the black slaves who waited upon Zobeide and all the other Sultanas?"

you know that, Max? Oh! "But we are in England

Is it a black woman? How do what a frightful face!" I cried. and not Damascus. Max, what sort of people do you think sultanas are now-a-days?"

"They must be very beautiful, and they have spells and enchantments, and can order people about and turn them into things; and at first they may be very kind to you, but afterwards, if you offend them, and rouse them, they may turn you into birds, or beasts, as the Princess Giahaure did King Beder. Don't you suppose that the Princess Giahaure was a flirt like that Miss Wells, who treated Captain Sparks so when he wanted to marry her?"

"Look, look, Max, what has papa got in his arms?"

He was coming out of the crowd, which opened before him, carrying a white bundle very tenderly. It was a little girl, perhaps six years old one year younger than I, three years younger than my brother.

Our father set her down in the pony chaise, and said—

"Take hold of her little hand, Max, and cheer her up. Don't let her get away; take care of her till I come back. She your cousin Veronica."

is

Our cousin Veronica! We looked curiously at the tiny figure dressed in white. I even lifted one of the golden curls. She was a slight child, very fair, and at this moment very frightened too frightened even to cry. She was more delicate

and fairy-like than English children. We were ruddy little creatures, with firm, round, stout limbs, protected by warm clothing. Her white dress struck us as unseasonable, and yet it gave her an aristocratic air.

"Did you come with cousin Lomax, cousin Veronica?" at length we said.

After a moment she began to cry, "Oh! my Mammy! oh, my Mammy! Where is my dear Mammy?"

But she gave us no answer.

"You shall have her presently," said Max. "Your mother will be here soon. Stay here, dear; you must stay here," with emphasis, as she tried to get out of the little carriage.

"Oh! there is my Mammy!" she said, stretching out her hands after the black woman. "She is going in there, into that house; let me go after her."

"No, no, dear; she'll come back."

“Oh, my papa, too; they are carrying my papa, too!" interrupted Veronica.

"Never mind, dear; he will come back. Stay with me and Molly we'll take care of you. Sit down, you poor, cold, shivering little thing; sit right down at the bottom of the chaise, upon the cloak, and I'll make a little nest for you. Watch those beautiful big sparks flying all about; I wonder they don't put out the blacksmith's eyes! See him strike them out with his big hammer. Mammy will soon come to you."

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Mammy is her nurse, I suppose," he whispered to me. "Papa had a black nurse in Virginia--Old Aunt Sukey. Everybody has black nurses in Virginia, you know, Molly."

As he said this, he was gathering the thick folds of the military cloak about our charge, till she was really in a little nest.

"Now, Veronica," said he, "you can play at being changed into a little bird, you know."

A more frightened and ungenial a playfellow could not be imagined. She had sat down, with her eyes turned from the sparks, and fixed on the inn-door. They were pretty, soft blue eyes, but now, to use our nurse's phrase, they looked "as wide as saucers;" and though she did not sob aloud, nor cry, she made a little moan. Max sat down at the bottom of the chaise, and put his arms about her. All soothing questions, or attempts to win a look, were quite without avail. She kept her

eyes fixed steadily; and, no doubt, the poor little heart sickened with hope deferred as nothing came. At last the curtains of the blue eyes slowly drooped. The little creature was worn out. Once or twice she opened her eyes with an effort, and fixed them earnestly again upon the door, through which she expected her father and her mammy would return. Then, wearied out by the day's journey, and the lateness of the night, she sank into an uneasy slumber. Max held the cloak around her.

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Molly," said he, come down and sit here too.

You can creep into the nest. I will put a corner of the cloak over you." "And over you, Max ?"

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"No, I am warm enough," said he; cover yourself up in it. We must have been here an hour I should think. Listen! The Tower clock is striking ten. What will Nurse think of us? How she catches her breath. She is very pretty. Prettier than any little girl at dancing-school, I think. How very white she is too."

Time slowly passed. Sir Harris Howard's horse had long been shod and led into his stable. The blacksmith had shut up his forge. The great clock of the Tower Church had chimed