a
pretty face doesn't cheer him like a ray of glad sunlight; so the
glossy waves of golden hair are nicely combed, and the bright dress put
on, to heighten, by contrast, the dimpled fairness of the neck and
shoulders; then, the little white apron, to keep all tidy; then the
Cinderella boots, neatly laced. I can see you, little pet! I wish I had
you in my arms this minute!

Good bye! How the little curls shake! What a nice seat our tiny voyager
has, by that pleasant open window, upon mamma's knee! How wonderfully
fast the trees and houses and fences fly past! Was there ever anything
like it? And how it makes her eyes wink, when the cars dash under the
dark bridges, and how like the ringing of silver bells that little
musical laugh is, when they dart out again into the fair sunlight. How
cows, and horses, and sheep, all run at that horrid whistle. Little pet
feels as though she was most a woman, to be traveling about, seeing so
many fine things. On they dash!--it half takes her breath away--but she
is not _afraid_; no, indeed! What little darling ever could be afraid,
when its hand was in _mamma's love clasp_?

Alas! poor little pet!

Grand-papa's eye grow weary watching for you, at the little cottage
window. Grand-mamma says, "the cakes will be quite spoiled;" and she
"knits to her seam needle," and then moves about the sitting-room
uneasily; now and then stopping to pat the little Kitty, that is to be
pet's play-fellow. And now lame Tim has driven the cows home; and the
dew is falling, the stars are creeping out, and the little crickets and
frogs have commenced their evening concert, and _still_ little pet
hasn't come! Where _is_ the little stray waif?

Listen! Among the "unrecognized dead" by the late RAILROAD ACCIDENT,
was a female child, about three years of age; fair complexion and hair;
had on a red dress, green sack, white apron, linen gaiters, tipped with
patent leather, and white woolen stockings.

Poor little pet! Poor old grand-papa! Go comfort him; tell him it was a
"_shocking accident_," but then "_nobody was to blame_;" and offer him
a healing plaster for his great grief, in the shape of "damage" money.

THE CHARITY ORPHANS.

"Pleasant sight, is it not?" said my friend, glancing complacently at a
long procession of little charity children, who were passing, two and
two--two and two--with closely cropped heads, little close-fitting
sun-bonnets and dark dresses; "pleasant sight, is it not, Fa