disappointment.

"Nancy," said I to one of my domestics, who happened to come into
the parlor to ask me some question, "I wish you would run down to
the toy store in the next block, and buy Neddy a wagon. His heart is
almost broken about one."

The girl, always willing, when kindly spoke to, ran off to obey my
wishes, and in a little while came back with the article wanted.

"Now," said I, "go up into my room and tell Neddy that I've got
something for him. Don't mention the wagon; I want to take him by
surprise."

Nancy went bounding up the stairs, and I placed the wagon in the
centre of the room where it would meet the child's eyes on the
moment of his entrance, and then sat down to await his coming, and
enjoy his surprise and delight.

After the lapse of about a minute, I heard Nancy coming down slowly.

"Neddy's asleep," said she, looking in at the door.

"Asleep!" I felt greatly disappointed.

"Yes, ma'am. He was on the floor asleep. I took him up, and laid him
in your bed."

"Then he's over his troubles," said I, attempting to find a relief
for my feelings in this utterance. But no such relief came.

Taking the wagon in my hand, I went up to the chamber where he lay,
and bent over him. The signs of grief were still upon his innocent
face, and every now and then a faint sigh or sob gave evidence that
even sleep had not yet hushed entirely, the storm which had swept
over him.

"Neddy!" I spoke to him in a voice of tenderness, hoping that my
words might reach his ear, "Neddy, dear, I've bought you a wagon."

But his senses were locked. Taking him up, I undressed him, and
then, after kissing his lips, brow, and cheeks, laid him in his
little bed, and placed the wagon on the pillow beside him.

Even until the late hour at which I retired on that evening, were my
feelings oppressed by the incident I have described. My "May be so,"
uttered in order to avoid giving the direct answer my child wanted,
had occasioned him far more pain than a positive refusal of his
request could have done.

"I will be more careful in future," said I, as I lay thinking about
the occurrence, "how I create false hopes. My yea shall be yea, and
my nay nay. Of these cometh not evil."

In the morning when I awoke, I found Neddy in possession of his
wagon. He was running with it around the room, as happy as if a tear
had never been upon his cheek. I looked at him for many minutes
without speaking. At last, seeing that I was awak