d
looking as if he would have looked through her, eyes, soul, and all.

"No, no, indeed," she said, turning away her head; "but," added she,
quickly, "you'll lose all your credit for good taste. Now, tell me,
seriously, what do you like me for?"

"Well, then, Fanny, I can give you the best reason. I like you for being
a real, sincere, natural girl--for being simple in your tastes, and
simple in your appearance, and simple in your manners, and for having
heart enough left, as I hope, to love plain George Somers, with all his
faults, and not Mr. Somers's reputation, or Mr. Somers's establishment."

"Well, this is all very reasonable to me, of course," said Fanny, "but
it will be so much Greek to poor mamma."

"I dare say your mother could never understand how seeing the very acme
of cultivation in all countries should have really made my eyes ache,
and long for something as simple as green grass or pure water, to rest
them on. I came down here to find it among my cousins, and I found in
your sisters only just such women as I have seen and admired all over
Europe, till I was tired of admiring. Your mother has achieved what she
aimed at, perfectly; I know of no circle that could produce higher
specimens; but it is all art, triumphant art, after all, and I have so
strong a current of natural feeling running through my heart that I
could never be happy except with a fresh, simple, impulsive character."

"Like me, you are going to say," said Fanny, laughing. "Well, _I'll_
admit that you are right. It would be a pity that you should not have
one vote, at least."

CHILDREN.

"A little child shall lead them."

One cold market morning I looked into a milliner's shop, and there I saw
a hale, hearty, well-browned young fellow from the country, with his
long cart whip, and lion-shag coat, holding up some little matter, and
turning it about on his great fist. And what do you suppose it was? _A
baby's bonnet!_ A little, soft, blue satin hood, with a swan's down
border, white as the new-fallen snow, with a frill of rich blonde around
the edge.

By his side stood a very pretty woman, holding, with no small pride, the
baby--for evidently it was _the_ baby. Any one could read that fact in
every glance, as they looked at each other, and then at the large,
unconscious eyes, and fat, dimpled cheeks of the little one.

It was evident that neither of them had ever seen a baby like that
before.

"But really, Mary," said the