oor little creature knew was that she didn't
know where her home was, that she had no father or mother, and that her
name was Martha.

"The widow took her home, made inquiries about her parentage in vain,
and then adopted and began to train her, which accounts for her having
so little of that slang and knowledge of London low life that you have
so much of, you rascals! The lady gave the child the pet surname of
Mild, for it was so descriptive of her character. But poor Martha was
not destined to have this mother very long. After a few years she died,
leaving not a sixpence or a rag behind her worth having. Thus little
Mumpy was thrown a third time on the world, but God found a protector
for her in a friend of the widow, who sent her to the Refuge--the
Beehive as you call it--which has been such a blessing to you, my lads,
and to so many like you, and along with her the 10 pounds required to
pay her passage and outfit to Canada. They kept her for some time and
trained her, and then, knowing that I wanted a little lass here, they
sent her to me, for which I thank God, for she's a dear little child."

The tone in which the last sentence was uttered told more than any words
could have conveyed the feelings of the bluff farmer towards the little
gem that had been dug out of the London mines and thus given to him.

Reader, they are prolific mines, those East-end mines of London! If you
doubt it, go, hear and see for yourself. Perhaps it were better advice
to say, go and dig, or help the miners!

Need it be said that our waifs and strays grew and flourished in that
rich Canadian soil? It need not! One of the most curious consequences
of the new connection was the powerful affection that sprang up between
Bobby Frog and Mrs Merryboy, senior. It seemed as if that jovial old
lady and our London waif had fallen in love with each other at first
sight. Perhaps the fact that the lady was intensely appreciative of
fun, and the young gentleman wonderfully full of the same, had something
to do with it. Whatever the cause, these two were constantly flirting
with each other, and Bob often took the old lady out for little rambles
in the wood behind the farm.

There was a particular spot in the woods, near a waterfall, of which
this curious couple were particularly fond, and to which they frequently
resorted, and there, under the pleasant shade, with the roar of the fall
for a symphony, Bob poured out his hopes and fears, re