eneath a cottage window,
Upon a summer day,
Two little ones are whiling
The sunny hours away.
A portrait of his sister
The boy draws on the wall;
The little maid remonstrates,
She likes it not at all.
At first she sits there pouting—
A tear is in her eye;
But peals of merry laughter
Burst from her by-and-by.
What cares the budding artist?
He plies his brush with zest;
He is in downright earnest,
Though she is but in jest.
Art-fire is in his spirit,
For Nature lit the flame;
The first step he has taken
Upon the road to fame.
In childhood's early morning,
Ere opened yet the flower,
Within his soul is dawning
The future artist's power!
Astley H. Baldwin.
SOME FAMOUS RAILWAY TRAINS AND THEIR STORY.
By Henry Frith.
III.—THE "FLYING SCOTCHMAN."
ne minute, sir; just let my mate brush up the dust a bit, and sprinkle a drop o' water on the foot-plate, and we'll be all right and comfortable."
So said an engine-driver on one occasion to the writer, and we are reminded of it when we step up to the "eight-foot" engine which is to carry us from King's Cross Station to York. To pull the fastest train in Great Britain, or indeed in the world, for one hundred and eighty-eight miles, at more than forty-eight miles an hour, is first-rate running. "Scotchmen" run also from the Midland Station at St. Pancras, and from Euston, but the quickest one is that on the Great Northern, and it is also the most punctual.
Now, what do you say to a journey of one hundred and five miles, to Grantham? We will leave King's Cross, if you please, at ten in the morning—a nice comfortable time. We have had our breakfast, and the engine has had its meal of coal and plenty of water. It will want something, for it will travel fast.