Richard allowed himself to be led along in silence. They found the rest of the family ready to start, waiting in the front garden; and from the adjoining stable and carriage-yard, could hear the preparations for their drive. Richard's father was going about the garden with his younger children, examining the progress of the young slips and seedlings. He had by the hand his youngest daughter, a little blind child, of about eight years old, and was telling her about the plants, guiding her hand to feel such of his pets as could bear handling. They were not far from the gate when Richard and Henrietta entered. The blind child raised her head.

'That's Richard, papa. There, he is in time -quite in time.'

Mr. Boothby turned round.

'Hey! Richard, my boy, you are only just in time. What has made you so late to-day?— there, run along, and have something to eat. You look quite fagged; you should not stay so long without eating-now mind another time.'

He laid his hand kindly on his son's shoulder as he spoke. Richard felt choked; he hurried into the house, where he found Pauline, with his dinner carefully kept warm for him. She set it before him at once, with some beer; all looked

most tempting, but Richard felt no appetite. After his long walk, and miserable reflections, the kind reception he had met almost upset him. Henrietta left him, thinking he would be best alone, for she saw something was wrong; but Pauline hovered about him in the greatest

concern.

'What have you, my schild; you are seeque -you are sorry? Tell your old nuss, mon

enfant.'

'Now, don't bother a fellow, Pauline, that's a good soul!' exclaimed Richard. There, I didn't mean to be cross,' he added, holding out his hand. 'You are all of you too kind to a bad fellow like me.'

Pauline gave him a kiss, and he tried to smile through a veil of thickly coming tears, which he had great difficulty in choking and drinking down with beer, roast beef, and determination. By dint of the most determined perseverance, Richard managed to eat nearly all his dinner, and, hastily washing his hands and face, joined the waiting party in the garden.

'Well, Dick, you look more the thing now,' said his father, and I hope the air and exercise will take away all the preternatural gravity so unsuitable to your ordinary demeanour.' There was a laugh among the young ones, and Mr.

Boothby continued, 'Now, Miss Somers, let me assist you that's it. Now, Hetty, my darling, and my little Edith will have a stool between you. That's it, my pet-all safe;' he jumped the child in as he spoke. Now, what is to be done with Harold?'

'There is room between me and Henrietta on the seat,' said Miss Somers.

'Are you sure? Well, come along to your friends, you happy boy. The pony is for you, Dick; George will sit by me, he is but a little fellow.'

Away they all went over the beautiful country, chattering and laughing in the highest state of enjoyment; and these excursions were always treats. They were rather rare, for Mr. Boothby's occupations seldom permitted him to give his children many consecutive hours of his society; and when he was able, the advantage and pleasure were equally great. He pointed out everything of note, told them legends as nobody else did, gave them elementary lessons on the geology of their neighbourhood; if there were a rare flower, or moss, or grass, his quick eye always caught sight of it, and it was procured and brought home for further investigation. Mechanics were occasionally on the tapis as illustrations came in their way, and it was sur

:

prising how many valuable facts and theories were taught in this pleasant way, and how many tastes Mr. Boothby gave his children. For there was nothing irksome in his teaching full of sympathy with their eagerness and high spirits, he was always a child with them, and his home was a very happy one, in spite of the great blank that death had made it to him two or three years before.

reason.

Mr. Boothby took a right view of sorrow. He believed God too good to send trial upon any of His children without a great and good He knew that man cannot conceive of the joys prepared for those who love and wait for His appearing, and trusting in what he could not see nor understand, in the midst of his great grief he had been taught to praise God for all the mercies still left to him, as well as for those he had formerly enjoyed; and trusting Him for all yet to come, he would not sorrow as those who have no hope, for the blessing God had seen fit to remove.

By the time they returned home, Richard's low spirits were gone. He jumped off his pony, handed his eldest sister out of the carriage, and carried little Edith into the house in his usual fashion, which was a mixture of gentleness and boyish glee. Pauline was as usual at the door

to hear and comment on the afternoon's delights, and great was the Babel of French and English through which Mr. Boothby had to make his way with Harold and Miss Somers on his way in to tea.

'Make them tell you in French, Pauline; that's the way to teach them to talk. I hope you have a capital tea for us; we are as hungry as hunters.'

They were soon all assembled at the plentifully-spread board, the little ones clapping their hands at the sight of home-made cakes, poached eggs, and broiled ham, which cook had sent up for a surprise. After tea there was a happy hour with papa and the microscope in examining the flowers they had brought home, and then the little ones went to bed. Miss Somers went into the oak parlour to play on the organ; Mr. Boothby was called out to his surgery, and Richard, left alone with Henrietta, got out his books. He did not feel much inclined to work; the sight of the books brought back disagreeable recollections, which had been very successfully banished for the last few hours. He was sitting very disconsolately, idly turning over the pages. of a book of German exercises, when Henrietta spoke.

Richard turned sharply round.

D