s,
which warmed the child's heart and seemed to set a seal upon that
promise. It was faithfully kept, for the rich lady had been touched by
Tessa's patient struggles and sacrifices; and for many years, thanks to
her benevolence, there was no end to Tessa's Surprises.

_BUZZ._

I live high up in a city house all alone. My room is a cosy little
place, though there is nothing very splendid in it,--only my pictures
and books, my flowers and my little friend. When I began to live there,
I was very busy and therefore very happy; but by-and-by, when my hurry
was over and I had more time to myself, I often felt lonely. When I ate
my meals I used to wish for a pleasant companion to eat with me; and
when I sat by the fire of evenings, I thought how much more social it
would be if some one sat opposite. I had many friends and callers
through the day, but the evenings were often rather dull; for I
couldn't read much, and didn't care to go out in the stormy weather.

I was wishing for a cheerful friend one night, when all of a sudden I
found one; for, sitting on my hand, I saw a plump, jolly-looking fly. He
sat quietly staring at me, with a mild little hum, as if to say,--

'How are you? You wanted a friend, and here I am. Will you have me?'

Of course I would, for I liked him directly, he was so cheery and
confiding, and seemed as glad to see me as I was to see him. All his
mates were dead and gone, and he was alone, like myself. So I waggled
one finger, by way of welcome, fearing to shake my hand, lest he should
tumble off and feel hurt at my reception. He seemed to understand me,
and buzzed again, evidently saying,--

'Thank you, ma'am. I should like to stay in your warm room, and amuse
you for my board. I won't disturb you, but do my best to be a good
little friend.'

So the bargain was struck, and he stopped to tea. I found that his
manners had been neglected; for he was inclined to walk over the butter,
drink out of the cream-pot, and put his fingers in the jelly. A few taps
with my spoon taught him to behave with more propriety, and he sipped a
drop of milk from the waiter with a crumb of sugar, as a well-bred fly
should do.

On account of his fine voice, I named him Buzz, and we soon got on
excellently together. He seemed to like his new quarters, and, after
exploring every corner of the room, he chose his favourite haunts and
began to enjoy himself. I always knew where he was, for he kept up a
constant son