all visitors who choose to wait upon them.
Perhaps little Annie would like to go? Yes, and I can see that the
pretty child is weary of this wide and pleasant street with the green
trees flinging their shade across the quiet sunshine and the pavements
and the sidewalks all as clean as if the housemaid had just swept them
with her broom. She feels that impulse to go strolling away--that
longing after the mystery of the great world--which many children
feel, and which I felt in my childhood. Little Annie shall take a
ramble with me. See! I do but hold out my hand, and like some bright
bird in the sunny air, with her blue silk frock fluttering upward from
her white pantalets, she comes bounding on tiptoe across the street.

Smooth back your brown curls, Annie, and let me tie on your bonnet,
and we will set forth. What a strange couple to go on their rambles
together! One walks in black attire, with a measured step and a heavy
brow and his thoughtful eyes bent down, while the gay little girl
trips lightly along as if she were forced to keep hold of my hand lest
her feet should dance away from the earth. Yet there is sympathy
between us. If I pride myself on anything, it is because I have a
smile that children love; and, on the other hand, there are few grown
ladies that could entice me from the side of little Annie, for I
delight to let my mind go hand in hand with the mind of a sinless
child. So come, Annie; but if I moralize as we go, do not listen to
me: only look about you and be merry.

Now we turn the corner. Here are hacks with two horses and
stage-coaches with four thundering to meet each other, and trucks and
carts moving at a slower pace, being heavily laden with barrels from
the wharves; and here are rattling gigs which perhaps will be smashed
to pieces before our eyes. Hitherward, also, comes a man trundling a
wheelbarrow along the pavement. Is not little Annie afraid of such a
tumult? No; she does not even shrink closer to my side, but passes on
with fearless confidence, a happy child amidst a great throng of grown
people who pay the same reverence to her infancy that they would to
extreme old age. Nobody jostles her: all turn aside to make way for
little Annie; and, what is most singular, she appears conscious of her
claim to such respect. Now her eyes brighten with pleasure. A
street-musician has seated himself on the steps of yonder church and
pours forth his strains to the busy town--a melody that has gone