"Are there any more of you besides Charley?" "Me," said the boy, "and Emma," patting the limp bonnet of the child he was nursing, "and Charley."

"Where is Charley now?"

"Out a-washing," said the boy, beginning to walk up 5 and down again, and taking the nankeen bonnet much

too near the bedstead by trying to gaze at us at the same time.

We were looking at each other, and at these two children, when there came into the room a very little girl, 10 childish in figure but shrewd and older looking in the face,pretty faced too,-wearing a womanly sort of bonnet much too large for her, and drying her bare arms on a womanly sort of apron. Her fingers were white and

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wrinkled with washing, and the soapsuds were yet smoking which she wiped off her arms. But for this she might have been a child playing at washing and imitating a working-woman with a quick observation of the truth. 5 She had been running from some place in the neighborhood, and had made all the haste she could. Consequently, though she was very light, she was out of breath and could not speak at first, as she stood panting and wiping her arms and looking quietly at us.

"Oh, here's Charley!" said the boy.

The child he was nursing stretched forth its arms and cried out to be taken by Charley. The little girl took it in a womanly sort of manner belonging to the apron and the bonnet, and stood looking at us over the burden that 15 clung to her most affectionately.

"Is it possible," whispered my guardian, as we put a chair for the little creature and got her to sit down with her load, the boy keeping close to her, holding to her apron, "that this child works for the rest? Look at this! 20 For pity's sake, look at this!"

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It was a thing to look at. The three children close together, and two of them relying solely on the third, and the third so young and with an air of age and steadiness that sat so strangely on the childish figure.

"Charley, Charley!" said my guardian.

are you?"

"Over thirteen, sir," replied the child.

"How old

"Oh! what a great age!" said my guardian; "what a great age, Charley!

I cannot describe the tenderness with which he spoke to her, half playful, yet all the more compassionately and mournfully.

"And do you live alone here with these babies, Charley?" said my guardian.

"Yes, sir," returned the child, looking up into his face with perfect confidence, "since father died."

"And how do you live, Charley? Oh, Charley," said 10 my guardian, turning his face away for a moment, "how do you live?"

"Since my father died, sir, I've gone out to work. I'm out washing to-day."

"But, Charley," said my guardian, "you're not tall 15 enough to reach the tub!"

"In pattens I am, sir," she said quickly. "I've got a high pair that belonged to mother."

"And when did mother die ?"

"Mother died just after Emma was born," said the 20 child, glancing at the face upon her bosoin. "Then father said I was to be as good a mother to her as I could. And so I tried. And so I worked at home, and did cleaning and nursing and washing for a long time before I began to go out. And that's how I know how, don't 25 you see, sir?"

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"As often as I can," said Charley, opening her eyes and smiling, "because of earning sixpences and shillings.' "And do you always lock the babies up when you go out?"

"To keep them safe, sir, don't you see?" said Charley. "Mrs. Blinder comes up now and then, and Mr. Gridley comes up sometimes, and perhaps I can run in sometimes, and they can play, you know, and Tom is not afraid of being locked up, are you, Tom?”

"No-o!" said Tom, stoutly.

"When it comes on dark, the lamps are lighted down in the court, and they show up here quite bright — almost quite bright. Don't they, Tom?"

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Yes, Charley," said Tom, "almost quite bright."

"Then he's as good as gold," said the little creature in such a motherly, womanly way. "And when Emma is tired he puts her to bed. And when he's tired he goes to bed himself. And when I come home and light the candle and have a bit of supper, he sits up again and has 20 it with me. Don't you, Tom?"

"Oh, yes, Charley," said Tom. "That I do!" And either in this glimpse of the great pleasure of his life, or in gratitude and love for Charley, who was all in all to him, he laid his face among the scanty folds of her frock 25 and passed from laughing into crying.

Abridged.

nan-keen': a brownish-yellow cloth originally made in Nankin, China. — pattens: wooden soles or sandals to raise the feet above a wet floor or street.

THE MYSTERY OF LIFE

JOHN RUSKIN

JOHN RUSKIN (1819-1900) was an English author and artist. To defend the painter, Turner, from his critics, Ruskin wrote his first great book, "Modern Painters." He was greatly interested in social progress.

NOTE. In the lecture from which this lesson is taken Ruskin has been talking about the mystery of life. He says that many so-called wise men have not learned the real secret of living so as to gather out of this present world what is best. To illustrate the foolishness of the constant struggle for power and wealth he tells of a dream which he had once. "For though I am no poet," he says, "I have dreams sometimes."

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I dreamed I was at a child's May-day party, in which 10 every means of entertainment had been provided for them by a wise and kind host. It was in a stately house, with beautiful gardens attached to it; and the children had been set free in the rooms and gardens, with no care whatever but how to pass their afternoon rejoicingly. They did not, 15 indeed, know much about what was to happen next day; and some of them, I thought, were a little frightened, because there was a chance of their being sent to a new school where there were examinations; but they kept the thoughts of that out of their heads as well as they could, 20 and resolved to enjoy themselves. The house, I said, was in a beautiful garden, and in the garden were all kinds of flowers, sweet grassy banks for rest, and smooth lawns. for play, and pleasant streams and woods, and rocky