d and shielded from every ungentle wind that blows! And what an
existence was his now--travelling from city to city, practising at every
spare moment, and performing night after night in some close theatre or
concert-room when he should be drinking in that deep, refreshing slumber
which childhood needs! However much he was loved by those who had charge
of him, and they must have treated him kindly, it was a hard life for
the child.

He ought to have been turned out into the sunshine; that pretty
violin--one can easily understand that he was fond of it himself--ought
to have been taken away from him, and a kite-string placed in his hand
instead. If God had set the germ of a great musician or a great composer
in that slight body, surely it would have been wise to let the precious
gift ripen and flower in its own good season.

This is what I thought, walking home In the amber glow of the wintry
sunset; but my boys saw only the bright side of the tapestry, and
would have liked nothing better than to change places with little James
Speaight. To stand in the midst of Fairyland, and play beautiful tunes
on a toy fiddle, while all the people clapped their hands--what could
quite equal that? Charley began to think it was no such grand thing
to be a circus-rider, and the dazzling career of policeman had lost
something of its glamour in the eyes of Talbot.

It is my custom every night, after the children are snug in their nests
and the gas is turned down, to sit on the side of the bed and chat with
them five or ten minutes. If anything has gone wrong through the day, it
is never alluded to at this time. None but the most agreeable topics
are discussed. I make it a point that the boys shall go to sleep with
untroubled hearts. When our chat is ended, they say their prayers.
Now, among the pleas which they offer up for the several members of the
family, they frequently intrude the claims of rather curious objects for
Divine compassion. Sometimes it is the rocking-horse that has broken a
leg, sometimes it is Shem or Japhet, who has lost an arm in disembarking
from Noah's ark; Pinky and Inky, the kittens, and Bob, the dog, are
never forgotten.

So it did not surprise me at all this Saturday night when both boys
prayed God to watch over and bless the little violinist.

The next morning at the breakfast-table, when I unfolded the newspaper,
the first paragraph my eyes fell upon was this:--

"James Speaight, the infant violinis