sit by her, refusing to join the other children in their play, while he told her in his pretty childish language all he had been doing, because, as he very gravely told his grandmamma, we must amuse her.' In the spring time he would trot up to the rectory, hands and pinafore full of early primroses, violets, and other wild flowers, his child's heart full of unbounded pity, that she loved them so dearly, but could never gather them herself. And all this and much more was done in such a tender, grave, sweet way as often made Adelaide smile, and brought the tears to Margaret's eyes.

Presently, however, she began to sigh instead of smile at these constant visits to the rectory. The boys there, though affectionate and well-disposed, were certainly not well-managed, and Ronald, with his high spirit and temper, naturally impatient of restraint, was necessarily a great deal more with them than Adelaide wished; and she could not prevent it, for Sir Edward, who fancied that his grandson would be the better for young companions, furthered the intimacy, and Lady Forrester always saw with her husband's eyes. It seemed cruel, too, to deny what seemed such pleasure to one whom few pleasures could reach. The little boy, therefore, still continued his almost daily visits, and he would have been indeed the angel his grandmother thought him, if he had quite escaped verifying the old adage.

'Esther,' said Dr. Floydd to his daughter one evening, as they sat together at tea, 'I am sure Adelaide wants to see you about something or other. She told me she had been here to-day, when you were at the rectory. Are you going up there again to-morrow ?'

'I promised to go early, but I can easily go over to the park for half an hour first. What made you think Adelaide wanted to see me particularly, Papa?' 'Why she looked positively unhappy when I asked after the boy, and I rather fancy she must have some

thing on her mind about him, and you know you are her bosom confidante.'

Esther laughed, and said that she would certainly go over. I am very sorry I did not see her again to-day, for I have been wanting to tell her how it is we have not met so often lately. I am afraid she will think I have neglected her.'

'You vain monkey! to think yourself of so much consequence,' said her father, patting her cheek. 'However, I suspect there is something of that sort in the wind, so bring her to tea if you can, and make it all up.'

'Papa! there can be nothing to make up. Dear Adelaide! she and I never quarrelled since we knew each other. I almost wonder at it, for I declare I am very interfering sometimes; but she is so sweet-tempered.'

Surely if Adelaide could but have heard this little colloquy, she would have found no matter for jealousy— nothing to make her meet Esther the next morning with a coldness and constraint which she had once worn over her shyness on their first acquaintance, but which had soon given place to a most warm-hearted affection of Esther was hurt, but she saw at once how matters were, and would not suffer the mistake to remain for want of one word, which pride might perhaps have bidden her leave unsaid.

manner.

She went up to Adelaide with her usual cordial pleasant smile, and said, 'I am come to tell you the reasons of my short-comings lately. I was so sorry not to see you yesterday.'

Adelaide's face softened in a moment, but the next sentence did not aid the process. 'Poor Margaret Staniforth was so ill, that I was with her all day, as perhaps you heard.'

'I did not know she was worse than usual,' was the reply.

'Not perhaps radically worse, but she has had a day

and night of restless pain, poor child, that have quite unsettled her, and rendered perfect quiet necessary for the time. So Mrs. Staniforth sent me a note, asking me if I could go and sit with her, and when I got there I found her worse than I expected. I read to her when she could listen, and in the afternoon I took the children out for a walk, for the baby is not well, and the nurse could not be spared; so you see,' smiling, 'I have been busy.'

'I wonder they like to see you doing so much,' said Adelaide.

'So much!' said Esther, smiling again. have only been playing at nursery governess.'

'After all, I

'You are very fond of them,' was Adelaide's next remark, in a tone which meant, 'You ought not to be fond of them.'

Esther did not smile this time, and there was a certain grave tremulousness in her voice, and a moisture in her eyes, as she said that she loved Mrs. Staniforth and Margaret which Adelaide could not understand, but which helped to break down the reserve so unusual between the friends. It was so seldom that Esther betrayed emotion of any sort, that Adelaide's affectionate heart could not bear to have been the cause. She began to talk quite naturally about India, and the two little unknown nieces there. The uncommunicative mood passed away; her grievance was soon told, without reserve, with a few tears even, to Esther.

'How can I prevent it? what can I do? were her questions. 'I cannot get mamma to see that he is not so obedient as he was. She thinks him almost perfect, and I believe I did once; but he is certainly changed, Esther, and till lately he was so good, so-everything one could wish. If he should become passionate—I am afraid of it-what should I do? I could never control him alone. If I could only get him away from those tiresome Staniforths! the children, I mean.'

'Why don't you speak to Sir Edward ?'

'I don't like to do that, as it was his doing that Mr. Staniforth came here. It would only vex him, and do no good.'

'Well,' said Esther, rising, 'I suppose we must see about ways and means. I must be going there now. Can you come ?'

Adelaide shook her head. 'Mamma is going to drive to Godstonecroft to luncheon, and I must go with her.' 'Is Ronald going too?'

'No; I believe not.'

'Well, then, will you trust him with me for to-day? I am going to take the children for a walk, and I assure you they are generally very good with me. May he come ?

'With you? yes;' and she ran to tell the little boy to get ready. When she came back Esther said, 'I will try and see what can be done; but I don't know if I shall manage it, so please don't look at me as if I were a forlorn hope.'

'Ah! said Adelaide, 'I know you will do something delightful, and I shall come over to-morrow morning and bear.'

And you are not angry with me now?' whispered Esther, as Ronald bounded into the room, wild with delight at the idea of going out with Aunt Esther, as he always called her.

The only reply was a very deep blush, and a very warm kiss.

(To be continued.)

IN ANTICIPATION OF UNDERTAKING THE OFFICE OF GODMOTHER.

A SWEET and solemn ministry

Of blessed Christian care!

To bear thee, babe, in loving heart,
And name thy name in prayer!
O Guardian Angels! holy, bright,
Thus gently as I muse,

There falleth on mine heart a ray
Rife with ethereal hues,

Showing the raptured joy wherewith
Ye spread your sheltering wings
To shield your Lord's own little ones
From earth's defiling things.

Yet blessed Spirits! different far
Is our protective joy,

Held trembling mid the shrinking sense

Of evil and alloy,

Shading our tearful eyes in shame

From the oppressive past,
And sighing at the sad presage

By stern experience cast;

Far different from your own bright joy,

And unstained, tranquil care;

The ministry whereby we seek

Your loving toils to share!

Yet, faint we not; and He Who loves

To aid the firm-bent will,

Our feeble aims with strengh will crown,
Our high, pure hopes fulfil.

In deep faith strive we; on our knees

The gifts we have not, ask,

And God will hear the earnest prayer,

And speed the sponsor's task.

NOTICE TO CORRESPONDENT.

Received with many thanks, 'An Anglo Indian.'

John and Charles Mozley, Printers, Derby.