r banks, every nights."

"Well, I haven't got any now--wait until to-morrow."

"Then we want drinks."

"I'll let Maggie bring you drink."

"Want my dolly," murmured Toddie.

I found the knotted towels, took the dirty things up gingerly and threw
them upon the bed.

"Now want to shee wheels go wound," said Toddie.

I hurried out of the room and slammed the door. I looked at my
watch--it was half-past eight; I had spent an hour and a half with
those dreadful children. They WERE funny to be sure--I found myself
laughing in spite of my indignation. Still, if they were to monopolize
my time as they had already done, when was I to do my reading? Taking
Fiske's "Cosmic Philosophy" from my trunk I descended to the back
parlor, lit a cigar and a student-lamp, and began to read. I had not
fairly commenced when I heard a patter of small feet, and saw my elder
nephew before me. There was sorrowful protestation in every line of his
countenance, as he exclaimed:--

"You didn't say 'Good-by' nor 'God bless you' nor anything."

"Oh--good-by."

"Good-by."

"God bless you."

"God bless you."

Budge seemed waiting for something else. At last he said:--

"Papa says, 'God bless everybody.'"

"Well, God bless everybody."

"God bless everybody," responded Budge, and turned silently and went
up-stairs.

"Bless your tormenting honest little heart," I said to myself; "if men
trusted God as you do your papa, how little business there'd be for
preachers to do."

The night was a perfect one. The pure fresh air, the perfume of the
flowers, the music of the insect choir in the trees and shrubbery--the
very season itself seemed to forbid my reading philosophy, so I laid
Fiske aside, delighted myself with a few rare bits from Paul Hayne's
new volume of poems, read a few chapters of "One Summer," and finally
sauntered off to bed. My nephews were slumbering sweetly; it seemed
impossible that the pure, exquisite, angelic faces before me belonged
to my tormentors of a few hours before. As I lay on my couch I could
see the dark shadow and rugged crest of the mountain; above it, the
silver stars against the blue, and below it the rival lights of the
fireflies against the dark background formed by the mountain itself. No
rumbling of wheels tormented me, nor any of the thousand noises that
fill city air with the spirit of unrest, and I fell into a wonder
almost indignant that sensible, comfortable, loving beings could live
in horrible