eading
some and making up some of this story so long; come, little boy, time
for your bread and milk; as the good dog is safe, we will bid him
good-bye to-night, and I will read you the rest to-morrow."

"Dear Beppo, I love him," said Willie, skipping about the room; "I hope
I shall always be an honest dog--an honest boy I mean," he continued,
laughing. "How splendid to have every body trust you, and leave all
kinds of treasure for you to take care of! Mamma, would you like me to
take care of grandma's portrait? I know that is a great treasure: I
would put it under my bed and stare at it all day."

"But what would you do at night?" said his mother, laughing.

"Oh!" said Willie, "to be sure! why, we must have a dog like Beppo, you
know. I am the griffin, see how fierce I look!" and Willie looked so
fierce, that his mother pretended to be terribly frightened, and ran
away, Willie tearing after her, his blue eyes dancing with fun, and they
were both having a fine scamper, when Willie's father stood laughing at
the door.

And now tea was ready; Willie's tea was bread and milk. He never had
rich cake, or sweetmeats, or strong tea, or hot bread, which are all
very fine while you are eating them, but which create quite a riot in
the stomach of a delicate child, and often lay the foundation of
life-long indigestion. He had a mother who was really kind, and did her
utmost to save him from bodily pain, and took unwearied pains in storing
his mind with noble thoughts, a love of truth, and a contempt for every
thing mean. Her almost hourly prayer was, that her only son and child
might grow up to be a Christian--"to love God with all his heart, and
his neighbor as himself"--and, so far, the dear little fellow had richly
rewarded her care.

The next day Willie studied his lessons, and knew them perfectly, and
played on the lawn before the house. Although more than once his eyes
sparkled with impatience to hear the rest of the delightful story, he
did not annoy his mother, as some children do, with such expressions as
these: "Come, now--right away. I want to hear the rest of that story.
Oh! dear me! how long you are! I--wish--you--would--COME." Oh, no;
Willie knew that his dear mother had many things to do, and he did not
say one word about Beppo till about the same time the next afternoon, as
his mother took her seat by the large and pleasant window which looked
out upon the lawn; then he went up to her, and put his arms round h