and strong in its self-will, but very true and deep. And now, convinced of her fault, she is full of sorrow for it, and thoroughly ashamed too."

"I am very glad to hear it."

"But I want you to make more allowance for her individual temperament. I don't think you have any conception of how great a trial it will be to the poor child to be separated from Janet for a whole month; and I cannot see myself that any harm would come of their intimacy. Janet is a very sweet child, and Mrs. Hope is a very sweet woman, and from them both I am sure she would learn nothing but good. If there were any other playfellows for Mabel at hand it might be different; but it is only natural a child should long for some companion of her own age. Forgive my plain speaking, Alicia; you know I always had a habit of saying out what was in my mind."

"I am very glad to hear what you think on the subject. Perhaps I have been too hasty; I own I had not looked at it from Mabel's point of view. I did not mean to be harsh," returned Miss Howard.

When Mabel, a little later on, having received permission from her aunt to come to her, stole in with drooping head and downcast look to make her apology, which she did frankly and humbly, Miss Alicia's heart smote her as she noted the pale cheeks and heavy eyes of the child, and her kiss of reconciliation had a warmth in it that almost surprised Mabel.

66 Now you had better take a run out of doors before tea," she said, kindly. "That will do you more good than anything, after your long confinement."

The little breast was still heaving with the sobs which could not quite be suppressed; and the contrast between the child's usually bright, buoyant aspect and her present subdued, sorrowful air seemed to excite a touch of compunction in Miss Alicia's heart.

"You know you have punished yourself more than I intended to punish you," she remarked, in softer tones than were usual with Mabel's aunt.

"I know it, Aunt Alicia: I know I have been very naughty, and I want you to forgive me," said Mabel, with such genuine contrition, that any lingering displeasure on Miss Howard's part was completely dispelled.

"You have my forgiveness," she returned, giving the child a kiss of her own accord; a kiss that Mabel, who was longing to be taken into favour again, warmly returned, and at that moment aunt and niece felt themselves more closely drawn to one another than they had ever been before.

As Mabel, hat in hand, was running out of doors, she stumbled against her uncle, who was coming in. "What is this my little Queen Mab?" he exclaimed. "Why, I thought I had lost her, it is so long since I have seen her. What had become of her?"

Mabel coloured and hung her head, as she explained, “I have been very naughty, Uncle Gwynne; so Aunt Alicia said I was to stop in my room until I was good again."

"And has it taken you all this time to get good again? I am sorry to hear that. For I have missed my little Queen Mab," he said, laying his hand kindly on the little drooping head, as he glanced compassionately at the tear-stained face.

"But,

"Have you really missed me?" said the child, looking up with a quick grateful glance. perhaps if you knew how naughty I have been, you mightn't love me so much," she added wistfully.

"I don't think it would alter my love," he said, quietly. "But come," he added; "I have something to show you which I am sure you will like to see. I discovered it in the woods just now, and I thought of you."

And will you take me to see it?" "Yes, this very minute, if you like."

Mabel slipped her hand confidingly into that of her uncle, and walked along happily by his side. She found it was a beautiful wasps' nest, which he had discovered hanging from one of the trees, looking as if made of the most delicate grey paper, and very delighted indeed she was with it.

FOOLISH ERTAINLY the ducks did look very comfortable when they swam about in their little lake. There is no denying that. A duck swimming has a plump, contented appearance, an air of easy satisfaction, as if it desires nothing beyond what it has and is. But are ducks the only happy creatures?

CHUCK.

Look at a bird taking its flight from the top of a tree into the very sky over our heads; or see it even alighting on the earth and hopping about with quaint, and airy grace, and then watch the ridiculous waddling of a duck on dry ground or its lumbering, blundering attempts at using its wings, and then tell me whether there is any reason

why a bird should envy a duck, and become discontented with its lot.

Yet such was the case, and not only one bird but a whole family of birds was rendered miserable, because they saw a number of ducks every day swimming about in the water, and they knew that they could not do it themselves. And yet they were charming little finches, that could fly, and hop, and sing, while the ducks they envied could only swim, and waddle, and quack.

I believe myself that envy is almost always extremely foolish as well as wrong, and that generally we are most discontented when we have least reason to be so.

I am sure that was the case with these finches, named Mr. and Mrs. Finch, and three little ones, Chirp, and Chirrup, and Chuck; and to make the story short, all these birds actually found themselves made so uncommonly uncomfortable by the sight, that they used to watch the ducks swimming about in the pond, till they flapped their wings in impotent wrath, and solemnly declared they could bear it no longer.

So Chirp and Chirrup and Chuck put their pretty little feathery heads together, saying sadly to each other, "What shall we do? what is the use of anything if we can't swim?"

"It is all nonsense," cried Chuck suddenly, who had a strong will of his own, and was very conceited. "I don't believe a word of it. Of course we could swim if we tried. It's sheer timidity and nothing else prevents us—it is just the want of habit-look at those absurd little straggling ducklings. Do you believe they can do anything we can't? Can they fly? Can they hop? and if they can neither fly nor hop, why should they be able to swim? At least, what I mean is, why should not we be able to swim who can fly and hop, if they are who can't. And now you do know," Chuck continued, "what I propose is that we speak to father and mother, and as soon as we have watched those selfish ducks, who go sailing about over the pond as if it belonged to them-as soon, I say, as we have watched them waddle up in that ridiculous way of theirs to their nest among the reeds and grasses-I propose that we go as a family, take possession of the place, and swim.”

Chirp and Chirrup hopped up and down in the greatest excitement, and were quite carried away by this. They jumped about in the utmost glee, and sang out "Swim, swim," with their clear shrill young voices, and then they all three flew up to the tree where their parents were sitting very happily, Mr. Finch singing loudly, and Mrs. Finch attending to his song with much admiration and pleasure.

They looked affectionately at their excited brood, but when the three young ones began to chirp all together, Mrs. Finch shook her head, and gave them clearly to understand that they must keep quiet till their father had finished his song. This over, they all burst out telling about Chuck's grand project, to which their parents listened with both attention and approbation.

"It really never struck me in that light before," Mr. Finch remarked, putting his head on one side with an air of wisdom. "Of course we can swim."

He said this with so much decision that his wife quite believed it. "Of course we can," said she proudly. "And why shouldn't we," cried the little finches as fast as possible one after the other.

"It's all the ducks' fault, you see," Mr. Finch said; "they sail about as if nobody could swim but themselves, till one quite believes it."

"Just fancy their feelings when they find us doing it!" cried Chuck; on which all the finches laughed till their feathers shook.

Then Mrs. Finch said, "Let us go and fly about near the pond and perch among the leaves of the willows there so as not to show ourselves too plainly, lest the ducks should guess our intentions, and do something to thwart them.”

Without further loss of time the birds flew off, full of great expectations, to the pond, and fluttered about among the branches of the trees that overhung it.

The oldest of the ducks was quite a patriarch among the others, and with some of his sons and daughters and grandchildren swam about in that easy manner that was so irritating to the finches.

"Why, anybody can see that anybody could do it," whispered Chuck, almost crying with mixed feelings; "and as for us, who can hop and fly

22

There was no occasion for him to finish his speech, the very manner in which he stopped abruptly expressed everything.

"Look at those pretty little finches," said the patriarchal duck to his family, as he swam about among them. "It is very pleasant to see how every creature fulfils the purpose for which it is made, and while doing so is at once lovely and happy. What sight can be prettier for us than to behold those sweet birds fluttering and flying about? while to them," he added, with a modest pride, which his years and experience rendered very becoming, "we, as we glide along on the surface of the water, present a most pleasing spectacle. Now if we attempted to fly or they to swim, each party would at once become ridiculous in the eyes of the other, besides putting itself into great danger."

“Yes, dear grandfather,” replied the dutiful ducklings; "and now do you think you will like to re

pose a little among the reeds and grasses and pick up worms and slugs?"

The ducks one by one touched the shore with a great deal of splashing and fluttering, and then waddled up a little way above the pond, and turning round so as to have a good view of it, amused themselves by catching insects, the patriarchal duck lying with his chest flat on the grass, as he was fond of doing, and sticking his claws up between his wings and his back, while his plumage, owing to his great age and respectability, assumed the appearance more of hard round knobs than of tufts of feathers. Now was the moment for the finches; a thrill went through the whole family, as if they had been one bird; they all felt that now was the moment-now or never.

Accordingly they fluttered down with great rapidity, intending to alight in the water; but at the last moment some instinct, I suppose it must have been, prevented this, and instead of it they perched on some loose twigs and bits of sedge that lay on the water so close to the grasses on the bank, that they had got entangled among them and were almost part of that bank, although the weight of the birds nearly disengaged them, and caused them to float out on the water.

Then the patriarchal duck stretched out his long neck, opened his big beak, and quacked loudly

"Beware, my dear friends, quack! quack! Beware-you will be drowned in another minute if you don't take care." He got more and more excited, as he saw how the danger increased.

"Excuse me," replied Mr. Finch politely, but trembling a little, we are going to swim."

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"You can't swim," shouted the patriarchal duck, almost beside himself; "you are sweet little birds, and the landscape would be nothing, nothing at all, without your plump little forms fluttering about, and your melodious voices sounding over our heads; but swim-no, that is what you can't do. Pray don't let me see a lovely and precious family commit suicide before my very eyes!"

Mrs. Finch and Chirrup plumed themselves with evident pleasure at his compliments; Mr. Finch looked doubtful and rather unhappy; but Chirp cried out pertly, " Chuck says we can.".

"And who is Chuck," cried the patriarchal duck with profound contempt, "that his word shall be put above mine? Who is Chuck?" he repeated, shouting more than speaking, "quack! quack!"

Now, they none of them, least of all Chirp, though she had spoken up so saucily, liked to say who Chuck was, for Chuck had never looked smaller, or more insignificant, or more like a newlyfledged bird than he did at that moment, with his tail so extremely short, after the manner of birdlings;

and the idea of setting his word against that of this big, old, experienced, knobby, patriarch of a drake, they every one of them felt would be absurd, so the whole family rather crowded before Chuck, and tried to conceal him from the ducks.

Chuck, however, had no notion of being concealed. He was not a bit ashamed of himself. He turned his back on everybody, stuck up his ridiculous little tail in the air, and stooped towards the water, prepared to plunge into it, when he was suddenly arrested by perceiving beneath him in the pond a small pert impudent bird, who was looking up at him, and in another moment, he saw was mimicking his every motion. Conceited creatures are generally very sensitive to ridicule and quick of temper, and Chuck was no exception to the rule. Not to mince matters, I must confess that he flew into a passion. He pecked violently at the small bird, who in return pecked violently at him, and then losing his head, as the phrase is, completely, he plunged down into the water, eager to revenge himself on the impertinent mimic.

Poor little Chuck, he had not the least idea that the other bird was himself, that it was merely the reflection of his own little pert self in the water.

What a commotion there was when Chuck disappeared, and when all the finches turned eagerly round, and could hardly believe in their terror and confusion what the splash meant; and then when at some distance from the shore the poor, pretty, little, half-drowned, draggled creature arose to the surface, and floated helplessly about, Mr. Finch flung himself forward and made desperate attempts to swim, which of course were utter failures; and no doubt he would have been drowned, if an active young duck had not waddled to the rescue and brought him safely to shore. Ducks are kindhearted creatures, and directed by their patriarch two or three were by this time swimming to Chuck's assistance. It was not an easy matter to land him, as he could do nothing himself, and when at last he lay wet and still among the grasses, ducks and finches alike believed that he was dead.

Gradually he came back to life, restored by the wise and skilful treatment pursued by the orders of the patriarchal duck; but he was never the same Chuck again. For months he was a poor, nervous, shaky little creature, and I have heard that his constitution cannot be said to have ever quite recovered the shock. But I doubt if he regretted this himself, or that even those who loved him best regretted it, for what does a little nervousness or delicacy of health matter, if they bring with them sweet temper and humility.

Chuck had received a lesson he never forgot. He was contented, amiable, and meek ever after.