baby," Alice whispered softly. "Here," continued Alice, turning over the leaf, "is my own likeness, the one papa had taken with Night in it. I thought you would like to have this one best, because you have a picture of my pony too."

"Come, Alice, you are so busy discussing other people's presents, that you have not told me who gave you this little seal with Alice on it? or what you found in that large box; and I want to know who worked this slipper for me. I think whoever did, was very patient and industrious too. Do you not think so, Alice?"

"Not very patient, papa, because Miss Dudley said it would have looked much better, if I had more patience and did not tug at the worsted so," said Alice laughing, as she remembered how she did tug at the worsted when a knot came.

"And you know what I found in my box?-a picture of you and mamma. O papa! thank you for them. Do look at this little watch which grandpapa has sent me, and the gold seal Charlie gave me; never was so rich a Christmas. Charlie is delighted with his telescope, and mamma with Mrs Browning, and you with your slipper; but, papa, I must go and watch for the postman. Will you give me his Christmas-box?"

Alice L'Estrange considered it her special duty to watch for the postman every morning, not one like the city letter carrier, whose hands contain numerous letters. Alice's postman only came to Studbury Park, and she felt quite proud and important, as she carried the locked-up bag to her papa, which to-day on being opened, was found to bring letters even for herself and Charlie.

They are coming, mamma, they are coming," cried Alice as she handed her mamma the letter she had just received.

"That'they' is certainly very indefinite, Alice."

66

I am

O papa! I thought you knew; Nell and Harry are coming to spend some weeks with us. so glad," exclaimed Alice, clapping her hands.

Nell and Harry Hamilton were Charlie and Alice L'Estrange's cousins. They lived in London, and the visits they paid to Studbury were always hailed with delight by both parties. Nell was Alice's age, and an especial favourite with her aunt, uncle, and cousins; there was something about little Nell's face with its dreamy blue eyes, which proved irresistible to young and old. She was indeed one of those young pilgrims who tread the narrow way, and seem always to keep their lamp burning.

Harry Hamilton was a bright, intelligent, frank, warm-hearted boy, some years older than Alice, but too much like her in disposition for them to be continually good friends. Harry had often, in days past, played and quarrelled with his cousin, teasing her, till Alice in momentary passion had declared she never would speak to him again; but she would repent of her hastily-uttered vow, and did speak to Harry; for she loved him dearly, and was never happier than when on bright winter mornings, mounted on her beautiful pony, she and Harry set off for a long ride. Yet there had been days, when even from these rides, the return was not a happy one; so that much as Alice loved her cousins, and joyfully as she looked forward to their visit, the remembrance of these clouds defaced and marred the brightness of her picture.

A mother, too, had thought of her child's coming struggle, and hoped the motto would not be forgotten; and when Alice went to her own room to get ready for church, she found beneath the picture which she had hung there this morning, another little frame, which held the words of her motto in beautifully illuminated letters

'Charity is not easily provoked."
"A soft answer turneth away wrath."

CHAPTER VIII.

CHRISTMAS ECHOES.

"Surely they of many blessings should scatter blessings

round,

As the autumn boughs when laden cast their fruit upon the
ground."

LICE L'ESTRANGE had stood once within the walls of Westminster Abbey. On its very threshold she had drawn back with mute astonishment at the magnificence which met her eyes, and holding her papa's hand tighter, a feeling of solemn awe had stolen over her, as she trod softly up the aisle. In childish delight she had looked at the sculptured marble with admiring eyes, and again those eyes had almost filled with tears, when the verger pointed to the spots where poor Marie Stuart, and the good, gentle King Edward slept.

Alice had remained for the afternoon service, had heard the organ peal forth its majestic music, watched the choristers marshalled to their seats, listened to the chanted, intoned service, and after

F

wards to the short sermon; and then left the sacred, old Abbey with a feeling that all was very, very grand, and a hope that she should go there sometime again, but this was all. Alice could never love this grand old Abbey as she did the little village church at home, where she had listened to her first sermon, fallen asleep over it, and then had not gone to church again for a whole year.

To this dear old church, with its ivied towers and unlettered walls, Alice now went Sunday after Sunday, with her mamma, papa, and Charlie; and to this spot their carriage was winding its way on this Christmas-day, when the fields and hills were, as Alice said, "still white with the beautiful snow."

As the L'Estranges walked slowly up the aisle, many in that church looked kindly at the little girl in black velvet dress and scarlet cloak, and though Alice did not speak, her eyes said as plainly as words could say, how much she wished those around her, rich and poor, a happy Christmas.

Sitting down in the old family pew which "had just a corner for each," Alice tried to be attentive, and Mr Blackburn read the prayers with so much feeling, that the child felt he was praying to