of time, and there was hardly a day in which she did not read a little of some books out of the village library. She was able to make out bills of parcels when she got stores from the co-operative, to which her father belonged, and from having been a subject of great vexation to him, he found her the blessing of his life.

THE SAILOR BOY.

BY ONE OF THE AUTHORS OF

CHILD-WORLD."

O SAILOR BOY! this is the day,

We count each hour and each minute;
Our hearts are as light and as gay
As the ship that brings you in it.
The house is merry with flow'rs;
The hearth is blazing with light;
We live through the glorified hours,
And laugh to think of to-night.

The minutes and hours slip on;
Alas! they have passed into days;
The beautiful rapture is gone,
And only a weary hope stays:
A hope that weeps in our eyes,
As silently, by-and-by,

Each blossom we gathered dies,

And with each a hope must die.

O sailor boy! when will you come
To turn all our grief to fêting!
O sailor boy! sail to your home,

Our hearts are so tired with waiting;

Your mother's step is so sad,
Her heart is heavy with pain;
Oh, darling! she would be glad
To see your sweet face again!

And when we were eager with joy,
Adorning the room in our bliss,
And saying fond things of our boy,
Disputing who'd get the first kiss,
List'ning for steps on the path,
Smiling with tremulous lips,
The wicked storm in its wrath
Was slaying our ship of ships!

Our darling was dragg'd on the wave, (Oh, had we dreamt of it only !) The sea is a wonderful grave,

So wide, and deep, and lonely. With a wild and dreadful shock,The wicked storm was so proud,It drove the ship on a rock,

And changed her sail to a shroud!

And when he could never come back, And our hearts were ready to break,

And even the baby wore black

For his dear sailor brother's sake, There came a hope and a cry,

A joy that was almost pain, And our darling-who did not die !— Was clasped in our arms again!

THE NURSERY MAID.

Mother. Oh, Letty, my dear, is it you? So you have got leave to come and see me. Well, how do you like your place ?

Letty. Well, mother, I don't know what to say. It is all so different.

Mother. What ever do you mean, child? Different from home? Of course it is.

Letty. Oh, but it isn't one bit what I expected. I thought I was going to live along of Mrs. Stanley, and she was always dressed so beautiful, and spoke so kindly, when she came to see you, I thought I should so like her for a mistress; but I have nothing to do with her; I never see her except at prayers, and if she comes into the nursery. She's never once noticed me since the day I came, when she told me to be a good girl, and try to please Mrs. Norris. As if body could please Mrs. Norris !

any

Mother. Why, Letty, Mrs. Stanley has something else to do, besides following you about at your work. You were hired as nursery maid, not as a head

nurse.

Letty. But, mother, I did very well at Mrs. Jones's. I nursed her baby very nice. But Mrs. Norris is so over particular-she won't trust me in the very least thing.

Mother. How foolish you do talk, to be sure! Mrs. Jones only took you out of goodness to me and father, just to hold the baby and muddle about. She never pretended to make a servant of you. Gentlefolks' children are brought up quite different, as you must see; and if ever you mean to get up in the world, and be a head servant, you must begin at the beginning.

Letty. And there's so many rules-rules about everything. That little Emly; such a dear, little, pretty child! I could be very fond of her; but, only think, Mrs. Norris won't let me call her Emly; it's to be Miss Emly, and Master Arthur! such nonsense— and I have to say, "If you please," whenever I ask those mites of babies to do anything.

Mother. Well! but are they not taught to speak civil to you?

Letty. Oh yes! they are made to say "Thank you," and all that stuff. I never had all those foolish fads at Mrs. Jones's. And then I have to light the fire, and clean the nurseries. Jack Wilton says I'm a perfect drudge, and so is he to the coachman and footman, and he doesn't see that I have any call to be anybody's drudge. Mrs. Norris is only a

servant.

Mother. If I were to catch Jack Wilton talking such wicked, ungrateful nonsense, I should like to tell him what I think of him. If I were his master, I'd dress him in his sweeper's rags again, and send him back to his crossing. Why, they took him out of nothing but charity, and now he turns up his nose at them. I hate such ingratitude! As to you,

Letty; as sure as you live, if your father heard you go on like that, he'd send you out as maid-of-allwork somewhere, that you might learn to value your place.

Letty. Oh, mother! don't be so angry with me. I meant no harm, 'only I don't seem to think it's fair that a servant should order me about. I wouldn't mind a real mistress.

Mother. But, as I said before, all beginners must be content to be taught their business by those who know it. You have plenty of victuals and drink; not more to do than is good for you; and better wages than you could expect. What ever would you

have?

Letty. Well, what I should really like, would be to be a dress-maker, like Patty Larkins.

Mother. How silly you do talk! Where is father to get the £20 premium? How are we to afford to keep you for two years? And who can say that at the end of two years you will get any dress-making when you are out of your time. Dress-making is very well for those who have a bit of money to fall back upon; but, trust me, who know the world better than you do, a place in such a house as Mrs. Stanley's is the very best thing that you could have.

Letty. But, mother; it is so dull! Mrs. Wilkins, the housekeeper, hardly lets a word be spoken at the hall dinner; and, as Jack says, that's very aggravating, to be kept so prim. I'm not let down to supper at all have to fetch it up, and sit in the nursery for fear the children should wake.