ust as if you was swimmin'."

Turning, I beheld my nephew Toddie--how long he had been behind me I
had no idea. He looked earnestly into my eyes and then remarked:--

"Ocken Hawwy, your faysh is wed, djust like a wosy-posy."

"Let's go right in to breakfast, Toddie," said I aloud, as I grumbled
to myself about the faculty of observation which Tom's children seemed
to have.

Immediately after breakfast I despatched Mike with a note to Alice,
informing her that I would be glad to drive her to the Falls in the
afternoon calling for her at two. Then I placed myself unreservedly at
the disposal of the boys for the morning, it being distinctly
understood that they must not expect to see me between lunch and
dinner. I was first instructed to harness the goat, which order I
obeyed, and I afterward watched that grave animal as he drew my nephews
up and down the carriage-road, his countenance as demure as if he had
no idea of suddenly departing when my back should be turned. The wheels
of the goat carriage uttered the most heartrending noises I had ever
heard from ungreased axle; so I persuaded the boys to dismount, and
submit to the temporary unharnessing of the goat, while I should
lubricate the axles. Half an hour of dirty work sufficed, with such
assistance as I gained from juvenile advice, to accomplish the task
properly; then I put the horned steed into the shafts, Budge cracked
the whip, the carriage moved off without noise, and Toddie began to
weep bitterly.

"Cawwidge is all bwoke," said he; "WHEELSH DON'T SING A BITTIE NO
MORE," while Budge remarked:--

"I think the carriage sounds kind o' lonesome now, don't you, Uncle
Harry?"

"Uncle Harry," asked Budge, a little later in the morning, "do you know
what makes the thunder?"

"Yes, Budge--when two clouds go bump into each other they make a good
deal of noise, and they call it thunder."

"That ain't it at all," said Budge. "When it thundered yesterday it was
because the Lord was riding along through the sky and the wheels of his
carriage made an awful noise, an' that was the thunder."

"Don't like nashty old 'funder," remarked Toddie. "It goesh into our
cellar an' makesh all ze milk sour--Maggie said so. An' so I can't hazh
no nice white tea for my brepspup."

"I should think you'd like the Lord to go a ridin', Toddie, with all
the angels running after him," said Budge, "even if the thunder DOES
make the milk sour. And 'tis so splendid to SEE the thunder ban