"I feel so much more intimate with it!" said Esther. "It seems to have made it alive, instead of just something I have read in a book. It was a delightful thought, father, and I am grateful to you for proposing it. I wish I could do all my lessons in the same way."
"I've not enjoyed myself so much for ages. You just did beautifully, all of you, and the dresses were a sight to behold. As for Peggy, she's a witch, and could make up costumes on a desert island if she were put to it! But I don't know what is going to happen to my poor, dear boy's face. Oswald, what is he doing? Isn't he coming to have some lemonade and cake?" asked Mrs. Asplin anxiously. And Oswald chuckled in a heartless fashion.
"Pride must abide. He would be Shylock whether we liked it or not, so let him take the consequences. He is fighting it out with cold cream in the bath-room, and some of the horsehair sticks like fun. I'll go up and tell him we have eaten all the cake. He was getting savage when I came down, and it will sweeten his temper!"
(To be continued.)
[The Old Year's Grief.]
When the young year walked the woodlands or climbed the mountain side
He wooed a gentle maiden and won her for his bride.
She brought him golden sunshine & wheresoe'er he trod
She reared a starry blossom to decorate the sod.
From vale to vale they wandered; from hill to hill they went,
Still leaving in their footsteps a harvest of content.
But woe is me! when Autumn had climbed the green hill-side,
Mid wailing of the woodlands the Year's sweet consort died.
No more the soft winds dallied where bracken crowned the hill,
To waft the brown bee's murmur across some golden rill.