126

UNDERTAKING; OR, JOHNNIE'S EXPERIENCE.

home as he turned away from the shop, and who had stopped him to ask if anything had yet been heard of little Ernie, and had been so pleased at his safe return, and so amused at the idea of their being relieved from all their anxiety that they had had unnecessarily, that he had burst into a loud laugh, and then had clapped Johnnie on the back at least half a dozen times by way of thanking him for bringing the child home; and their quiet, tender mother, who seemed to know just what each of her children wanted, and had talked so kindly to her young visitor. Ah! Johnnie wished again that he had a mother like that. And to think that he should have said anything to vex that poor boy Robert!

It was nearly nine o'clock when Johnnie reached home. He went in, and found his father was out. For this he was not altogether sorry, for he had begun to feel ashamed of his bad conduct, and he did not know how his father might receive him. When, however, father and son met in the

morning, no allusion was made to the day before, and Johnnie, not forgetting his good resolves, set to work in a very different manner from usual. Before the day was out his father had actually praised him, a thing he rarely did to any one, and Johnnie began to think that he was finding a little more brightness than he had found before in the workshop; certainly he went to bed with a lighter, happier feeling in his heart than he had known since he left the country.

About a week after this, Johnnie was sent one morning on an errand to the other side of the town. On his way back, whom should he see but the lame boy and the little fellow he had carried home from the wood on his back, standing together upon the pavement, evidently waiting for some

one.

'Hallo!' he said, stopping short, while Robert, who had been thinking of something very far removed from Johnnie just then, started, and the colour came into his pale cheeks, and little Ernie came running up to him with some almost unintelligible remark about a 'ride through a big river.'

'What brings you here? asked Johnnie of Robert.

'My brother's living in the town now,' was the reply; and Mr. Lowe brought us in his cart when he came to market, so that we might see him.'

'Is it Joey?'

'Yes, Joey. Are you going that way? I'd like to go a few steps with you if it won't hinder you too much. Will it ?'

'No, come along,' said Johnnie; 'I'll be glad to have you.' So Johnnie walked slowly with his two companions.

'Do you go to Sunday-school?' asked Robert, turning round upon him suddenly, 'because if you don't, it would be nice if you'd come to ours, if it isn't too far.'

'It's not too far for me,' answered Johnnie; and then he went on more slowly, 'I don't know whether I should like it, though; I've only been to Sunday-school a few times, and I think I'm getting too big for it now. I'm tired too on Sundays mostly, and going out once to church is enough for

JOHN AND I

JOHN AND I.
SAMUEL WRAY.

ANSWER TO PUZZLE-PICTURE. NO. VII.-CUMBERLAND.

Cumberland forms the top W. corner of England, and is noted for its high mountains and lakes. The highest mountains are Sca-Fell-Pyke, 3166 feet; Sca-Fell. 3100 feet; Helvellyn, 3055 feet; and Skiddaw, 3022 feet. From Skiddaw are to be seen the German Ocean and Irish Sea. Of its fifteen lakes, the largest, Ulles water, is nine miles long. It abounds in silver, copper, lead, iron, plumbago, coal, slate, and marble. Sheep and cattle are reared on the mountains. Woollens, cottons, linen, earthenware, glass and lead pencils are manufactured. The chief towns are Carlisle, Cockermouth, Whitehaven, Penrith and Keswick. The chief rivers are the Eden and Derwent.

PICTURES OF OLD ENGLAND.

BY EDITH M. EDWARDS.
V.-SURREY.

HERE is perhaps no natural feature in our dear island home that we should look upon with more joy and veneration than Our grand old river, Father Thames, that glorious stream whose waters wash Runnymede, the cradle of freedom, and hurry onward to bear on its wide bosom the commerce of the world. Come with me to a spot where our river murmurs by the shores of fruitful Surrey. Let us begin our rambles through this county with a visit to Kingston-on-Thames: this town has a truly royal history. Pause before this old stone, so carefully railed in; seated upon it, no fewer than seven Saxon princes received their crowns. The conference under Egbert of Wessex and Ethelwolf of Kent was held at Kingston in the year 838. And, indeed, the whole place seems so eloquent of the past, that as I walk through the streets, the things around me grow misty and far off, and I find that I am no longer in Kingston as it is to-day, but in Kingston as it was long centuries ago.

I find myself in a large hall, which is crowded with churchmen, earls, and thanes. At its head sits a fair youth, who, from the crown he wears, must be the king. But all this drunken mirth, is it befitting the royal presence? Ah! I remember I am looking on a scene of long ago, when such things were thought quite seemly. See, the young monarch, who has been moving uneasily on his seat, rises, and steals silently from the room; he hurries onward till he reaches what in olden time was called a bower, but what was really a room where royal or noble ladies passed their time. Two persons look up as the king enters, one of them is old, the other is in the fresh bloom of girlhood. Edwy the Fair flings his crown on the floor, and takes his seat by Elgiva, his young wife.

Suddenly there is a noise outside, and two men enter; surely I know that delicate, thoughtful face; have I not seen it bent over mouldering manuscripts? have I not seen it in the Abbey chapel at Glastonbury?

Dunstan seizes the fallen crown, places it on the head of the king, and drags him by main force back again to the disorderly feast. The picture fades from my sight; but before I turn away, let me give a pitying thought to the young king and queen, whose future I know is only too dark.

We must turn now to the capital of Surrey, and must speak of a day when the streets of Guildford witnessed an unfamiliar sight this procession of haughty men who look with disdain upon the Saxon townsfolk, who are they, and whence do they come? who is that dreamy-eyed youth? who his young companion? that stalwart man, too, who bears the garb of an earl. As we ask ourselves these questions, night falls, and the travellers go to rest; suddenly, in the darkness, cries are raised, the younger of the youths is mounted on a donkey, his feet underneath; helpless and friendless, he is hurried from the town, to suffer a cruel death. But what about his companion? Years roll on, and the dreamy-eyed boy sits upon the throne of England; but in the days of his prosperity, Edward the Confessor cannot forget his murdered Alfred, or forgive Earl Godwin, whom he calls his brother's murderer.

In the time of King Henry VIII. a palace was erected not far from Richmond, it was not a king's residence, although the household seemed regal.

Imagine that you stand outside the palace one morning, and look with me on this glittering procession: the central figure is mounted on a donkey; but though the animal is humble, its saddle is of crimson velvet, with stirrups of silver-gilt, its rider is dressed in scarlet, with silver shoes.

I think you will have already guessed that you are standing outside Hampton