of the latter did not confine itself to the defensive, for she would frequently invite her protegée to her own home, a comfortable farmhouse, where Katy met with far more kindness than she did in the dwelling of her uncle and aunt, who, having children of 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 every thing 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 benefited 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.

FRANK AND HIS KITE.

BY JAMES BIRD, ESQ.

LITTLE Frank had a small, but a very gay kite,-
Oh! he deemed it a beautiful one:

It was truly his pet, and his sole delight,
As it flew up the path of the sun.

But Frank became proud, and he fancied his skill
Was sufficient to manage a larger:

Just then his rich uncle rode over the hill,
On his favourite Waterloo charger.

"Dear uncle," cried Frank, "I perceive other boys
Have their kites which are six feet high,
While mine is the least of these juvenile toys;
Pray tell me the reason why.

"O give me, dear uncle! a very large kite, Like the one that so buoyantly flies :—

Look! look! what a grand and a marvellous sight It now forms in the beautiful skies!"

"Nay, Frank," said his uncle, "you think yourself clever;

The huge kite which we yonder can view

Is above your control-you could manage it never; It would fly away, imp, with you!"

Frank did not believe it-he deemed himself wise, And as clever as clever could be;

As is often the case, in their own dim

With mortals much older than he.

eyes,

So Frank he said, "No! I can manage it well,—
Buy a large one, dear uncle, I pray!"
His uncle consented, and, sooth to tell,
Bought him one on that very same day.

The kite was magnificent, stately, and tall,
And as wide as a fishing boat's sail;
On its top shone a glittering gilded ball,
At its bottom a long white tail.

Then Frank's little heart swelled high with pride;
He exclaimed, "Oh! to-morrow's the day!
We will bear you, my kite, to the bleak hill's
side;

I shall cap all the boys at their play!"

Frank rose in the morn with the light of the sun; How knowing he looked!-how arch!