Madame Rivière's daily marketing for her numerous household became a more and more anxious journey. The poor children had to restrain their youthful healthy appetites, and by degrees they became languid and pale, and even the little ones left off playing.

"Oh, my children, that was indeed a terrible time! Had it not been for faith in Providence, the stoutest heart would have despaired. Kind Madame Rivière tried to be cheerful, that she might cheer those around her; but it was a very difficult matter, with such dreadful stories of suffering that came pouring in on all sides. Cats, dogs, and rats were now sold in the markets as food; and many a tear was shed over some petted favourite which had to be sacrificed to satisfy the pangs of hunger. Autumn, too, was changing into winter, and cold came to add to the misery. Meanwhile poor little Eva had got tired of asking if her pigeon was likely to come back, and of watching for it. At first she used to spend almost all her time in the garden, her eyes fixed on the sky, till they were dazzled, the cage kept ready for its former inmate; and it was not till many days of disappointment had passed by that the child gave up hope. When one thought of the many chances the bird would have to encounter, the danger of getting lost in the fogs and mists, and of getting shot by the enemy's guns, it did seem too probable that Eva would never see her pet again. She cried bitterly when she thought of it, and of the anxiety and grief her parents must be suffering. Poor child, she became paler and thinner every day. Want of good food, and anxiety, were telling upon her. Only one comfort little Eva had left, and you can guess perhaps what that was. In her own room, by her little white bed, she used to kneel and ask God to keep her safe till her papa could come and fetch her away, and to take care of her papa and mamma, and after this she would feel better and braver. And, indeed, prayer was the only real comfort left to any one in that unhappy city.

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Her kind heart

A day came when little Eva Stanley could not sit up; she was too weak and ill. She was dressed, and laid on a couch near the window in her room. It was a bright November day, and the sun shone upon the withering trees in the old garden. Madame Rivière came in and looked at her and went out again. ached to see the bright, merry, healthy child so altered; but, alas! heartaches were common things, and there were many more, besides Eva, who required attention. A picture-book had fallen from the little wasted hand, and lay upon the floor. The eyes were

closed, and tears stood on the long lashes. Hark! what sound was that? Tap, tap, tap! Eva knew it well, and, forgetting her weakness, sprang to the window, to see her old favourite fluttering and trying to get in. In another moment the window was open, and the friends reunited, and very soon all the household came crowding in to see the wonderful sight. The pigeon looked thin, and her glossy feathers were shabby and dirty, but it was Bluebell herself, showing by every means in her power her joy at getting home. Beneath her wing was a quill, containing, no doubt, important tidings. This Madame Rivière at once took charge of, and conveyed to the authorities. The writing contained in that quill had been, by what is called microscopic photography, reduced till it could not be read by the naked eye, but required to be enlarged by a magnifying magic-lantern against a large screen, to be read and copied. You will understand, children, that this was necessary to enable a little pigeon to carry so much news. Well, a message had come for Eva, among the many messages brought by Bluebell-a message that did her almost as much good as food and medicine would have done. It said that her father and mother were alive and well, and that very soon they believed they would all meet again. It told the little daughter to keep up her courage, to trust still in God and in them, and wait patiently a little longer.

“Oh, wonderful little bird! to come all alone, with no one to show the way, high up in the air, so many many miles, carrying messages of comfort and hope to those who needed them. Beautiful little messenger! No wonder your mistress caresses you and will not let you out of her sight; no wonder all the family unite in denying themselves, that Bluebell may be fed. Fresh hope had indeed been brought into that house. Faces looked brighter, voices sounded more cheerful, and if any felt inclined to despair, the sight of Eva's pigeon would serve as a cure. Little Eva's prayers had been heard; why should not theirs? Soon after this the siege came to an end, and Eva Stanley was clasped in her parents' arms. They travelled home a very happy party, and I need not say how, next to Eva, Bluebell was petted and cared for. Health and spirits gradually returned to the pale, languid child, but she never forgot, and never will forget, the unhappiness or the happiness of those months spent in Paris."

"Now, is not my story as wonderful as a fairy tale? and have I not kept my promise ?"

Plenty of voices were ready to answer, "Yes," for I never had to complain of an inattentive or an unappreciative audience. But it must be confessed that the queen of the day, she for whose special benefit the story had been told, was peacefully unconscious of stories and everything else in the outer world. Whether it was the birthday pudding, the fatigue of a whole summer day of birthday pleasures, or the burden of birthday honour, I do not know, but little Effie was discovered sound asleep on the grass, and was carried off to bed.

THE BROKEN MANGLE.

THE nearest way from Stanton Street to Warwick Street is by

way of Crown Court, and that is the reason why, from morning until night, for six days in the week, so many passengers are constantly passing through it. All of them are on business, therefore none of them loiter or tarry. Not one of them all is pursuing merely a walk of pleasure. Necessity alone selects this path as the shortest cut from the one street to the other; and consequently its unattractive sights and sounds and smells are regarded and endured as the cost of the time and labour saved.

Each house in Crown Court is occupied by several families, and nearly all the dwellings bear a general appearance indicative of poverty, dissipation, and wretchedness, the principal exception being found on the ground floor of No. 5, which, at the time the circumstances narrated here commenced, was occupied by the Widow Norton. And any one passing through the court might see that occasionally the dust and cobwebs were removed from her window; and as hers was the only window in the court behind which anything in the shape of a blind could be detected, it offered a rather pleasing contrast to the dirty, dingy windows of all the other houses.

Mrs. Norton's income was derived from her labours in connection with the rickety old mangle which stood at one end of her room, where it partly hid and partly held up her dilapidated bedstead, which, but for the support of the mangle, could not have stood upon its own legs. Affixed to one of the shutters of her window might be seen every day, Sundays not excepted, a small board, on which the picture of a mangle was painted, in yellow and brown colours upon a green ground, beneath which were the words, Mangling done

here."

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It was not from the dwellers in the court that her employers were found, for if " washing-day" did occasionally occur in Crown Court, mangling never followed. Her patronage and support were secured principally from the inhabitants of the streets which the court connected. This was very limited, however; for other mangles were to be found as convenient to the streets aforesaid as Mrs. Norton's, some of which were of patent construction, and gloried in large cog fly-wheels, requiring less labour to perform the work more quickly than the widow's mangle, which was of the old-fashioned rope and roller kind. It is in consequence of this fact that we record this narrative, or have anything in it worth recording.

The widow was about sixty-five years of age at the time the writer first became acquainted with her. She was about the average height; her visage sharp, and of that kind which is often termed "acid." She was very clean in her person and appearance, and always endeavoured to make the best of her scanty wardrobe.

My introduction to Mrs. Norton on one fine spring morning was accomplished thus. I knocked at her door, for the purpose of entering into a religious conversation with her, if convenient. Immediately upon my doing so, a cheerful "Come in" gave me permission to open the door and enter her room, which I at once availed myself of. The widow was busily engaged in placing some linen in a basket which stood upon the floor; and as her back was toward me, she did not at first see who her visitor was, but evidently supposed it was some one who had called on business pertaining to the mangle. I bade her “Good-morning," and expressed a hope that she was in good health, when suddenly she looked at me very indignantly, and said, with great emphasis, "I wish you'd shut that door!"

I acted according to her wishes, and uttered an apology for having left the door open; and then said, "I have taken the liberty of calling upon you, Mrs. Norton, for the purpose of speaking to you a few kind and friendly words about your

"I wish you'd hold your tongue," she said.

I instantly obeyed, and at once discovered that she was counting back into the basket the number of pieces she had been mangling; and as she performed her labours at a certain price per dozen, it was of importance both to herself and her employers that she should be correct as to the number for which she charged. therefore stood as still as a statue until she had finished her task and had packed the linen ready for delivery.

As soon as this was done I expressed my sorrow that I had interrupted her, and hoped she would pardon what had in some measure caused her annoyance, when she replied, "You have no business here."

I said, "I should not have taken the liberty to enter your room if you had not invited me to do so."

"I invite you to come into my room?"

"Yes. When I knocked at your door you said, 'Come in,' and I did so."

"But," said she, "didn't I tell you to shut the door as soon as I saw who you were?"

"You did; but as you did not say on which side of the door you wished me to remain when I had shut it, I naturally enough kept on this side, as I wanted to speak with you." I then assured her that my motives were of the kindest nature, and that it was in reference to her highest interests that I had called upon her.

She replied, "I don't want anybody to talk to me about religion. I am a poor woman, and have to work hard for the bare crust I get. I have no time for religion. Religion won't pay my rent when the collector comes next Monday morning."

I said, "Mrs. Norton, you have, or had, a mother?"

"Of course I had," she replied.

"Did you not love her ?"

"Because," said I, "I think you did; and I think if she is or was living now, you could love her very much without leaving off your mangling to do so. And whilst God desires that you should love Him, He does not demand the neglect of a single duty; nor does the supreme love of God in the heart hinder the pursuit of any lawful occupation, but rather helps in the performance of everything that duty demands."

Mrs. Norton only became more displeased, and although I tried in every possible way to pacify and soften her, I found I could not; therefore, laying on the table the tract she refused to take in her hand, I bade her " Good-morning," and said, I will call upon you some other time, when, perhaps, you will not be so busy."

Her reply was,

"You wait till I send for you."

Time passed on, and occasionally, as I went through the court and saw her door open, I inquired as to her health, made a remark about the weather, and when I could I left a tract upon the chair by the