shall have two dollars and a fraction—won't that be a nest-egg, Harry Aikin?"
A tear in Charlotte's eye had already replied to Harry, but any reply to Morris was cut off by the appearance of Charlotte's father, Philip May,coming down the road. Philip was a most inoffensive, kind-hearted creature; and, though rather an unproductive labourer in worldly matters, he had, by dint of harming no one, and serving every one rather better than himself, kept bright the links of human brotherhood, and made them felt, too, for his general appellation was "Uncle Phil." As "Uncle Phil" approached, it was apparent that the calm current of his feelings had been ruffled. Little Susan, her father's pet, with the unerring eye of a loving child, was the first to perceive this. "What's the matter, father?" she asked.
"Oh, dreadful bad news! I don't know how you'll stand it, Charlotte"—the girls were breathless—"poor Jock is gone!"
"Gone, sir! how gone? what do you mean?"
"Clean gone!—drownded!"
"Drowned! oh, dear, how sorry I am!" and "poor Jock!" was exclaimed and reiterated, while Uncle Phil turned away to hide certain convulsive twitches of his muscles.
"But it's some comfort, any how," said Susan, the first to recover herself, "that he was so old he must have died of his own accord before long."
"And that comfort you would have had if it had been me instead of Jock, Susan."
"Oh, father!"
"I did not mean nothing, child; I'm sure I think it is kind of providential to have a lively dis-
