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or food to the happy expectants of a truth; her heart the seat of ardent day like this! and active feeling.

And now the little coats, the worsted gloves, and snow-boots were duly buckled on, and the mother saw the joyous troop depart. She did not detain them with ill-timed cautions, lectures, or advice, to check the freedom of their wildest wishes; she stayed but for a moment her little Mary, and, wrapping the Indian shawl still closer on her breast, she bade Beaty take care of her gentle child. The two elder boys had already gone out with Mr. Seaton; and Fanny, being a little beyond Beaty's control, remained to accompany her mother.

And

It was a pleasant sight for old and young, to behold the various groups of restless, happy beings, which that day crowded the far-stretched line of Prince's Street. Already were to be seen some impatient little urchins, the offspring of chicken-pecked mothers, returning with their load of gilded baubles from their early walk. passing them came upright, palefaced girls, the governess's pride! Poor things, one day of freedom might have been permitted you, just to gild the gloom of such a life of vain and heartless toil! And now came youthful mothers, and proud young papas, with riotous boys, and giggling rosy girls, as happy in the toy-shop as their children were. But amongst all the various throng, none were more naturally joyous than Beaty Lawson's brood. They were the children of a good oldfashioned nursery, where much kindness and little discipline kept all in order. Beaty knew nothing of the thousand methods and never-ending books, which are now thought necessary for the education of youth. But she had all her Bible by heart, and the greater part of Shakspeare, besides a superabundance of fairy tales and romantic ballads; and the little Seatons knew no severer punishment than Beaty's declaring that she would not tell a story for a week. Never was an impure word or a base action known in Beaty's nursery. Her own mind was the mirror of purity and

The little Seatons felt it no penance to be confined to such a nursery. They looked upon it as privileged ground, where they could enact a thousand sports, sure of Beaty Lawson's assistance and applause. Even Sunday, that day of injudicious gloom to many, shone a holiday to them; nay, it was the happiest day of all the seven, for the pious father spent it with his children; and when retired from their parents, they had still to look to Beaty's Bible story; and whether it was to be Daniel in the lion's den-the children in the fiery furnace, or Mary's favorite Ruth, was the only question.

But we must not forget that Monday has already come, and that Beaty has to attend to other high behests. No light task was hers, to hear and answer the thousand questions and never-ending projects, as to what their exhaustless wealth might be equal to procure. But, before entering the tempting precincts of the toy-shop, Beaty's custom had ever been to exact from each child a tenth of its treasure, to be appropriated by her to some object of charity; and this being given with open heart and willing hand, there was no farther check to the disposal of the rest. It was delightful to listen to the various projected purchases-the magnificent presents they intended to bestow. William knew his papa wanted a barometer, and did nurse think they would get it at the toy-shop, and that Mrs. Connel would give it him for half a crown? Then came a list of gifts, commencing with a satin gown for mamma, and ending with a tea-canister for Betty the cook. If these things were at last discovered to be beyond their grasp, and something humbler was suggested when in the toy-shop, great at least had been their delight in talking of them, and Beaty was sure to make honorable mention of the first intention on their return home. And now the toy-shops having been ransacked, and the merits of good-humored Mrs. Connel

been thoroughly discussed, another pleasure was still in store-a visit to George's Square, to taste old aunty Stewart's bun. This had always formed a part of the routine of Hansel Monday.

As long as the little Seatons could remember George's Square, so long had aunty Stewart inhabited the same house, and sat at her little wheel in the same chair, just between the fireplace and the window. Her grey silk gown, her beautiful pinched cap, her silver hair and smooth unwrinkled skin, these had never altered. There stood the little table with her Bible, the newspapers, and a volume of the Spectator, and from year to year these dear children had come, and still found all the same. The bright brass grate with its shining utensils, the mahogany cat, on which the frothy buttered toast was placed at breakfast, and the plates were warmed at dinner; the china figures on the mantel-piece, where Sir John Falstaff, with his paunch stuffed full of fun, still stood so temptingly beyond their reach; these well-known sights were sure to meet their eyes as the little folk marched into aunt Stewart's parlor.

"Well, my bairns, and is this you?" said the good old lady, laying aside her spectacles, and carefully marking with a pin the place in the newspaper she had been reading; for since her memory had begun to fail, she found this the surest way of making straight work of the papers. "Is this you, my bairns, come to wish your old aunty a good Hansel Monday, and tell her all your news? Mary, my little woman, give Annie a cry; she'll be up in the store-room looking after the bun." But it was not necessary to hurry Annie, for she had heard the well-known little tongues in the parlor, and, "Is that the little Seatons?" in her kindly voice, was answered by their running to meet her as she came down the stair, with a beaming face, and a plate well heaped with shortbread and with bun.

Annie, the unmarried daughter of Mrs. Stewart, was past the age of

beauty, if she ever had possessed it; but there was a charm about the whole of the Stewart family far beyond that of beauty, although some of them had been eminent for loveliness, their minds seemed never to grow old. There was within a springing well of warmth and kindliness, of cheerful thoughts and lively fun, which all the cares of this weary world had never checked. They had met with many trials, yet still they saw the bright side of everything, and their lives seemed but a continual song of thankfulness to God.

The children now being seated, the great-coats unbuckled, the cold shoes taken off, and the little feet rubbed into a glow, a drop of Aunty's cordial and a piece of bun was duly administered to each. Then came the display of all the wonderful things which had been bought-the large Hansels which they had got; and how the little tongues did go about all that had been felt, seen, and done since the morning! Oh, what a pity that Hansel Monday should ever end! But Beaty Lawson reminded them that it was getting late, and they had still to visit cousin Stewart in his room. It was not to every one that this gentleman chose to show himself, and few besides the little Seatons dared to intrude on his Sanctum Sanctorum ; but they were always sure of a kind reception. How, with his kindly feelings and lively delight in everything which looked young and happy, Mr. Stewart had remained a bachelor, was like many other wonders, never rightly understood. But there he sat surrounded by his books, the picture of content. His pen seemed never idle, yet what he wrote, or where it went, or if the world was ever the wiser for it, no one ever knew; but at all events he was the busiest and the happiest of men. Himself, his room, and all about him, was the picture of comfort, order, and scrupulous tidyness. He had been a very handsome man, and when dress was more the distinguishing characteristic of a gentleman than it now is, his had still been con

spicuous. Regularly as nine o'clock struck was Mr. Stewart to be seen under the hands of an ancient barber, who had shaved, powdered, and tied his cue for more than thirty years, discussing at the same time the politics of the day, mourning over the degeneracy of the times, and quitting his master with the daily renewed feeling, that it would be well for the country in general, and his pocket in particular, if there were many such gentlemen of the good old school.

The entrance of the little cousins was preceded by a gentle tap from Mary, who, being the decided favorite, was the first to peer in her little head. "Come in, my little Fairy-God bless the little creature-it is Queen Mab herself.

And where got ye that gown sae gay,
My little Fairy Queen?

I got it in the Fairies' land,

Where you have never been.'

And where are my little men, Jemmy and Willie?-Will your purses hold another half-crown, boys? God bless their comely faces! Annie, have you given them plenty of short-bread ?— Remember,

Christmas comes but once a-year,
But once a-year, but once a-year;
Christmas comes but once a-year,
And therefore we'll be merry.'

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one visit to be paid, which her benevolent heart could not omit. It was a visit to the house of mourning.

On

In one of those narrow closes which abound in the old part of the town of Edinburgh, lived a poor widow of the name of Gray. This day of happiness to many, rose to her the anniversary of lasting sorrow. But it had not always been thus: No, one year ago and not the youngest heart on Hansel Monday had looked for fuller happiness than that of widow Gray. that day twenty-two years before, she had been made the blessed mother of a thriving boy. He was her only child,—long wished for, and granted when hope was almost dead. seemed to bring a blessing with him, for everything had thriven with Agnes Gray since George's birth. Hansel Monday had been to her the happiest day of her life,-it was the birthday of her child; and though she had since mourned over the grave of a kind husband, yet, when the day came round, the heart of Agnes still renewed her hymn of gratitude to God.

He

That day twelve months past had been the day which the mother had fixed upon for the wedding of her son. "It was the happiest day of my life, George," said she, " and I would have it the happiest day of yours; and if God spare me to see your Peggy as blest a mother as I have been, then may I say, Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace.'" Thus, with his mother's blessing warm at his heart, and happiness brightening every feature, did the youthful bridegroom quit his parents' roof. to return in the evening with his bride, who was henceforward to be the intimate of his mother's dwelling. The widow had no fears or misgivings as to the worth or excellency of George's wife; for she had known and loved her from a child; and the first wish of her heart had been that George should marry pretty Peggy Burns.

He was

The daylight had long passed away, and more than once had widow Gray trimmed the fire, and looked with

pride and pleasure at the well-furnished room which was to be the abode of her new daughter. The hours passed by, and still they did not come; Oh, what could stay them now? And for the first time alarm arose in the mother's heart. She took her seat beside the fire, and tried to read her Bible; but her heart throbbed and fluttered so, it was in vain. At last she heard a noise,—her ears could not be deceived, it was their footsteps on the stair. She hurried to the door with a light,- -a man, indeed, stood there; but the light fell upon the face of a stranger. "Who are you?" said the agitated mother. "Why do I see you here? My God! has anything happened to my boy? Whose are those voices that I hear below?" And she would have rushed past him, but he caught her arm. "Come into the house," said the compassionate stranger," and I will tell you all.”"Oh, I know it already!" said the mother; "my boy, my boy is gone!" "No, he is not dead; believe me, my poor woman, your son lives, but he has been severely hurt, and they are now bringing him here at his own desire. I have dressed his wound, and perhaps"

The mother heard not what he said she remained fixed to the spot-her eyes raised to heavenher heart in silent prayer, as if imploring God for strength to bear her misery. It was indeed a sight to harrow up the soul; her brave, her beautiful boy, was now brought back to his mother's house, and laid upon the bed, pale, bleeding, and almost lifeless. He was supported by the surgeon and some of the bridal party, whilst his poor Peggy pressed close to his side, her face as white as her bridal garments.

The mother asked not a question, but the facts were soon made known by those around her. Her son had arrived within a few paces of his father-in-law's door, when his attention was attracted to the opposite side of the street, by the screams of a young girl, apparently struggling to disengage herself from the rude attack of S ATHENEUM, VOL. 2, 3d series.

two young men. ment, but persuading himself they were only claiming the privilege of Hansel Monday, to obtain a kiss from a pretty girl, he prepared to hurry on to his own appointment. A second appeal for help, however, in a voice of unequivocal terror and supplication, rendered him ashamed of his momentary selfishness, and thinking of his own Peggy, he flew to the assistance of the poor girl. Forcibly seizing the arm of the most troublesome of the two ruffians, he enabled the girl to make her escape; but at that moment, the other young man turning upon George, threw him head foremost with all his force against the iron lamp-post. The blow was fatally severe, and he lay at their feet bleeding and senseless. A party of the wedding guests were the first to observe him, and come to his assistance; he was carried into the house of his Peggy's father, and it was some time before he uttered a word. At last he opened his eyes; and as Peggy hung over him, he pressed her hand, and faintly uttered, "Let them carry me to my mother." After a while, however, he recovered so far as to be able to give some account of what had happened. who had been called in, having now made his appearance, the poor young man again petitioned to be taken to his mother's house; and seeing that quiet was not to be obtained where he was, the surgeon agreed to his immediate removal.

He stopt for a mo

The surgeon

All now having quitted the house of Mrs. Gray, except the surgeon and poor Peggy, the mother, with trembling hands, assisted to undress her son, and stood by while he was bled. The doctor now saw him laid quiet, and proposed to leave them for the night. He had given no hope-he had said nothing; and the unhappy widow dared not to ask a question, for she read in his face the sentence of her son's death. Next morning, George desired to see the surgeon alone, and after conversing with him for some moments, he sent for Peggy.

They remained for some time toge- their hands were now joined in wedlock. George's strength supported him through the sacred ceremony, and when the clergyman pronounced them man and wife, he opened his arms, received her to his bosom, and saying, "God bless my Peggy," he expired.

ther, and when the mother entered the room, the poor girl was seated by the bed, holding the hand of her lover, paler if possible than before, but still, and silent, as death itself.

"Mother, I have been telling Peggy what I need not tell you, for I saw you knew how it would be when you laid me on this bed. And now, dear mother, I have only one wish, and that is to see our good minister, and once more hear his voice in prayer.Oh! I hoped to have seen him perform an office far different from this! but the Lord's will be done." The good man came, and after a few words to the afflicted mother, he seated himself by the bed of her son. Peggy now rose for the first time, and taking the widow aside, she said some words in a low and earnest voice, but at that moment the minister called to them to kneel round George's bed, and then he prayed aloud with all the fervor of a feeling and a pious heart. were indeed the words of eternal life; and as he poured out his spirit in prayer, this world, with all its sins and its sorrows, faded from their eyes.

His

The holy man now arose, and would have left them, but Peggy, starting forward, laid her hand upon his arm with a look of earnest supplication, and tried to speak; but the effort was too much for her, and the mother then advanced to explain her wishes. "If you think there is naething wrang in it, sir, Peggy wishes to be made the wife of my poor boy." The minister looked at the dying man, and shook his head.. "Peggy knows that, sir," said widow Gray; "she knows he has not many hours to live, but yet it is natural for her to wish

-And then her father could let her live with me." "And then," said Peggy, rousing herself to speak, "Oh! then, sir, I would be laid inShe could not say the word, but George, clasping her hand, added, "In my grave, Peggy! it is that you would say. God bless you, dearest, for the wish." The good man made no further objection, and

Such was the story which the children had heard from their nurse soon after it had happened. Since then they had frequently visited the widow and her daughter, for Peggy had never left her mother-in-law. Though poor now, they were not altogether destitute, and the young widow added to their little stock, by taking in plain work. This was all she was able for. She had always been a delicate girl; and now sorrow, though quietly endured, was making deep inroads in her feeble frame. The cold of winter had borne hard upon Peggy; and when Beaty now saw her seated by the poor old woman, she felt that it would be difficult to say whether the ripe fruit or the blighted flower was likely to be soonest taken. The children, with instinctive feeling, had hid their toys in Beaty's mantle as they ascended the stair. "Do not let poor Peggy see our play-things, to put her in mind of Hansel Monday,” said little William. Poor things, it was kindly meant; but Hansel Monday was written in Peggy's heart in characters too deep to be ever effaced from it. As they softly entered they found the widow seated by the fire; her wheel, for that day, was laid aside, while Peggy sat beside her with her open Bible upon her knee, apparently reading to her. "Do not let me interrupt you, Peggy," said the nurse; "our visit must be very short ; but my bairns have brought Agnes and yourself some little things to show their good will, for they well know it is not what this world can now bestow that is anything to you." "That is true," said Peggy, clasping her Bible to her breast, "this book is my best treasure; and oh! may these dear bairns feel it to be such, even in their young days of happiness and joy! So may God spare them the sore les

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