th which children could
be governed. "I'm sure you needn't say that. I think our children
quite as good as other people's, and a little better than some I
could name."

"Well, perhaps they are, and nothing to brag of at that," replied
Mr. Laurie. "Children are children, and you can't make any thing
more out of them."

"But children should be made orderly and obedient," said Mrs.
Laurie, with some dignity of expression.

"If they can," pleasantly returned the father. "So far, we, at
least, have not succeeded to our wishes in this respect. As to order
and obedience, they seem to be cardinal sins rather than cardinal
virtues, at present. But I hope better things after a while."

As this was said, some one was heard tumbling rather than walking
up-stairs, and, in a moment after, in bolted a boy about seven years
old, crying out--

"Hen' says Uncle and Aunt Fleetwood have come! Have they, mom?"

The boy stopped short on perceiving that strangers were present.

"Yes, my son, your Uncle and Aunt Fleetwood are here," said Mr.
Fleetwood, reaching out his hand to the little fellow. Remembering
Martha's former rigid notions about the government of children, he
felt so much amused by what he saw, that he could hardly help
laughing out immoderately. "Come here," he added, "and let me talk
to you."

The boy went without hesitation to his uncle, who took him by the
hand and said, with a half wicked glance at the mother, yet with a
broad good humoured smile upon his face,

"That must be a very knowing hen of yours. I should like to have
some of her chickens."

"What hen?" asked the boy, with a serious air.

"Why, the hen that told you we were here."

"No hen told me that." The boy looked mystified.

"Oh! I thought you said Hen' told you so."

"No, it was Henry."

"Say, no _sir_, my son." Mrs. Laurie's face was not pale, certainly,
as she said this.

The boy did not think it worth while to repeat the formality.

"Oh! it was your brother Henry," replied Mr. Fleetwood, with
affected seriousness. "I thought that must have been a very knowing
hen." The boy, and his sister who had recovered from the pain of her
fall, laughed heartily. "Now tell me your name?"

"John."

"Say John, _sir_. Where are your manners?" spoke up the mother, who
remembered that, with all her sister's imperfect management of her
children, she had succeeded in teaching them to be very respectful
in their replies to older persons, and that Earn