she is literally able to keep her eye on two people at once, or whether she makes up her mind which eye she means to look out of, and drops that one and takes up the other at a moment's notice; in short, shifts the seeing power at will; whether-but our marvellings are not worth the writing down, Plain as she is, there is yet something very unique and interesting about her-she has no children! And as she is probably the only parson's wife on record who has not half a dozen, she deserves to be chronicled as an amazing and historical fact. Greatness has its drawbacks, how, ever, and she is not satisfied with her childless home, her husband does not like it either, and I have seen him glance at our overflowing numbers with a scarcely concealed bitter envy that sends a pang, I am sure, to the womanly heart beating so warmly under the gorgeous satin yonder, that would never be on her back if little feet were gathered about her, little voices clamouring for milk and bread and butter. And now we are walking in to dinner, and Jack, taking an unfair advantage of my proximity to him, trips me up in such wise that I take a header into my pastor's ample back, and am only saved from ignominious disgrace by the fact that the governor is too far ahead to notice the slight scuffle.

I wonder why people always feel so much more hungry on Sundays than any other day! Is it the sermon, or is it because we have kept our mouths shut so long that we have not taken in enough air? Any way, we settle to our dinner in earnest, and there is a long satisfied silence. I come to the surface first and glance around me, thinking how very like animals we all look though we do use knives and forks and dinner-napkins.

Mrs. Skipworth looks uneasy; her dress certainly is tighter than it was in the drawing-room. Surely there will be an explosion soon. There is! She lays down her knife and fork, gives a mighty sneeze—a loud crack, as of hooks and eyes being violently divorced, is heard, then she settles herself in her chair and looks relieved.

It is very strange, but there is no gaping fissure visible in front, therefore there must surely be one behind; yet James, who is at her back, has no speculation in his eye, and he does not offer to fetch a shawl to hide her ruins, so it can't be there. It is certainly very mysterious. How delightful it is to sit still and to know that we shall not be called upon to provide conversation; for of all the hard tasks the governor sets us, that is the hardest. When we were small children we were ordered to be silent, and bade never to open our lips in his presence. We never went to him in any of our childish joys or troubles, he took no interest in us; and we, who would have loved him if he had let us, came to have no feeling for him save that of fear. Now that we are growing up we are not afraid of him, but the old restraint lies heavy about us, and upon his bidding us to talk, lo! we find that the fountain is dry, and the harder we pump the less we bring up, and it is the daily puzzle of our lives to find "something to say," or to hit upon some safe subject concerning which we may furbish up a few remarks. We are not afraid of him; but, nevertheless, it is a degrading and mortifying fact that whereas, behind his back, we are as bold as lions, before his face we are meek as lambs, while our voices remain obstinately in our boots. If our lives depended on it we could not give one such Whoop! in his presence as we utter a hundred times a day when he is out of earshot.

The butler and footman hurry hither and thither, executing impromptu slides in their flights across country, that move us to admiration; but woe betide them if, in their slavish haste, they clink one plate against another, or fail to appear at papa's elbow, vegetable or sauce laden, the very moment he is ready for a fresh supply; while, as to the dishes, if as soon as one disappears another does not instantly take its place, his face becomes such a study of scorn and disgust as any living actor might seek in vain to imitate. We all sit round and watch him with a never-ending

amazement not unmingled with admiration, and wonder how on earth he does it. His face seems to be made of india-rubber, and takes every inflection and shade of ill-temper and uncharitableness. I believe if we watched him till doomsday we should see some fresh contortion every day. He does not confine himself to looks though-he acts. A dish-cover in his hand becomes a shuttlecock that the battledore of his wrath may send into the grate, or out of the window, or after James's rapidly vanishing calves; it is impossible to tell where, we can only watch his eye and speculate as to the probable direction it will take. To-day, however, there are no such compliments flying; and, if Mr. Skipworth does now and then intercept a diabolical look intended for Simpkins, what then? He is used to the governor's little ways.

And now dessert is on the table, and papa is telling the reverend gentleman (who occasionally hunts on a cob as fat as himself) a pleasing little anecdote about a parson who came to grief last winter in shire. Taking an awkward jump, he rolled off his horse into a pond, from whence he piteously besought a passing squire to extricate him. "D-n you!" cried the squire dashing his rowels into his horse's sides, "lie where you are! You won't be wanted till next Sunday."

Mr. Skipworth, who, in his travels across country, has explored every pond, ditch, and brook for ten miles round, utters a feeble "Ha, ha, ha!" at which the governor, who is one of the pluckiest and hardest riders in the county chuckles unkindly. Blessed hunting, that in winter takes him from the bosom of his family twice a week; and oh! long-tarrying first of September, when will you come and set his feet among the stubble? We are eating strawberries, that, to my fancy, always smell and look so much more delicious than they taste. A jerk of papa's thumb pretently dismisses us with our mouths half filled, and we walk

decorously past his chair, but once outside the shut door, scamper away like the wind to vent the spirits that have been so tightly bottled up for the last two hours. We all go our different ways. -Alice and Milly to stroll about the garden, Dolly and Alan to ome mysterious haunt known only to themselves, Jack and I to our birds and beasts. They are a rascally lot, consisting of the lame, the halt, and the blind, and in any eyes but ours would not be worth a pinch of snuff. We have a dog without a tail, a canary without an eye, a raven without a leg, a crippled rabbit, and various other poor wretches who have been compelled by the force of circumstances to part with one or another of their natural appendages.

Papa is safe for another two hours. He and Skippy will tell tales one against the other that would beat Munchausen into fits and make him green with envy; so we let out the rabbits, the parrot, and the raven, and they follow behind as we take our way through the garden and paddock into the orchard.

"Don't you feel rather patriarchal, Jack?" I asked, looking over my shoulder to see that the rabbits are not nibbling at the raven, "like Noah ?"

"No, I can't say I do," says Jack. "How he would grin if he could hear you comparing our measly little menagerie to his. 'Why, he had thousands of 'em!"

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"So he had," I say, considering; "and how they all managed in the ark I can't imagine. They went in two and two, but of course they all had families; and, if there was only just room at first, they must have found it a tight fit after a bit."

"Very," says Jack absently. "I say, Nell, will you get up early to-morrow morning?"

"I don't know," I answer doubtfully. "You don't want me to go fishing, do you?" On such occasions I enjoy the proud distinction of fixing wriggling worms on the hooks, while he has all

the honour and glory of the undertaking, and eats the fish afterwards.

"No, you little silly, I don't! It's something much better. Can you keep a secret ?" (holding my arm tight).

“Of course I can!" I say indignantly; and, extraordinary as such an assertion may appear from a female, I can.

"Well," says Jack deliberately, "if you're not nervous, you know, or squeamish, like other girls, I'll take you with me; but you must not call out or scream, or anything of that kind, or we shall be caught, and there will be a shine in the tents of Shem."

"I won't scream," I say eagerly; "and you know I am not a bit like a real girl. You always say I am more than half a boy." "I'm going," says Jack, eyeing me closely, "to see a pig killed." "A pig?-oh, Jack!-you don't mean it! They squeak so dreadfully! I'm sure it must hurt them very much!"

"Nonsense!" says Jack philosophically. "They are noisy brutes, and always make a fearful row over everything: besides it's a very good thing they do squeak; for, if you happened to be frightened and called out, you know-for you are only a girl—the men would think it was the pig, not you.”

"Oh !" I say dubiously, for the idea that my voice cannot be mistaken from that of an expiring pig has not before occurred to

me.

"The fact is, Nell," says Jack, glancing sharply at my face "you're afraid, and I didn't think it of you-no, I didn't. However, I'll let you have till to-morrow to think it over; and if, when I throw a handful of gravel up at your window at five o'clock, you are not dressed and ready, I shall know you are a coward.”

"No you won't," I say, rebelling against this injustice, “if I don't go it won't be because I am afraid, but because I don't want to see the-the-mess."

“Make up your mind one way or the other," says Jack care