about; and, to its mother's reiterated requests and warnings, Philip always answered—"Now that's just what I am going about next week." When his only child was drowned in this seeming water-trap was certainly no time to reproach Philip, and he who never reproached any one could not be expected to make himself an exception. He merely said, "It was a wonderful providence Ellen was drowned that day, for the very next he calculated to put a kerb to the cistern—but it was meant so to be—he always felt Ellen was not long for this world!" Their next child was our friend Charlotte; and she, like her drowned sister, was born with one of the best mortal gifts—a sound constitution, which, watched over by her wise and vigilant mother, promised a long life of physical comfort. But these prospects were sadly reversed when her father, having one day taken her out in his wagon, left her holding the reins "while he just stepped to speak to a neighbour." While he was speaking, the horse took fright, Charlotte was thrown out, and received an injury that imbittered her whole life. Philip was really grieved by this accident. He said "It seemed somehow as if it was so to be, for he had no thought of taking Charlotte out that day till he met her in his way."
His next mishap was the burning of his workshop, in which, on one gusty day, he left a blazing fire. A consequence so natural seemed very strange to Uncle Phil, who said "It was most onaccountable, for he had often left it just so, and it had never burnt up before!" This incident gave a new turn to Philip's life. He abandoned his trade, and really loving, or, as he said, "aiming" to suit every-
