met with a stern refusal, and a remark that we ought not to have done such things, for we know'd better.

"Done what things?" we exclaimed, strong in conscious innocence.

"If it had been a matter of a few young onions, or half a dozen pears and apples, I'd have scorned to say a word," proceeded gardener, with some vehemence; "but I can't stand this here, no, that I can't;" and so saying, he began to dig again with all his might, while we stood staring at him in mute surprise.

Presently he stopped, and broke out afresh in a burst of virtuous indignation

"Do I grudge the fruit and vedgeables to the children; bless 'em? No: don't I take a pride and a pleasure in saving up the best for 'em? but three big cowcumbers, and a heap of turnip parings as big as my hat! Why it's frightful. It's enough to kill 'em-I must tell their 'Pa, I really must."

"Why, gardener! gardener! you don't think we eat the raw turnips-the dirty raw turnips?" we all exclaimed in a breath. "If you don't eat 'em, what do you pare 'em for ?" said gardener, surprised at this complete denial.

"Pare them? pare turnips?"

"Bless the children! why, yes-pare 'em to be sure; who else would pare 'em in the shrubbery, and fling the peel and skins behind the root-house?"

Upon this hint, off we all ran to the root-house, and gardener ran after us. There, as he had said, in a heap at the back of it, lay as many turnip and carrot parings as would have filled his hat, besides quantities of cucumber skins and onion peels and leaves.

"Now, if you children did not go for to do this," said gardener, "I call it a most extrornary fact.”

We all declared our innocence, whereupon he muttered to himself for some time, declared he would tell his master; gave us the fruit we had asked for, and walked off to his digging in the garden.

That very evening, about half-past eight o'clock, I suddenly remembered that we had left out on the steps of the root-house, two books of immense value-one of them, my own property;

the other belonging to my cousin Anne. We were up in the nursery when I made this discovery, and both my cousins were loud in their lamentations. For be it known to you, readers, that these were no ordinary books-one of them was a Robinson Crusoe, bound in red morocco, and adorned with pictures and gilding; the other, was bound in green: it was a copy of "Christian Missions to Heathen Lands." My father had caused it to be interleaved for me with blank pages, upon which pages I had pasted quantities of prints and woodcuts, and spent many a happy afternoon in painting them, with colours from my own paint-box.

How many a striped tiger-how many a missionary with extremely red cheeks, and a yellow straw hat, was now exposed to the nightly dew! How many a literally Red Indian (for I painted this tribe with pure lake) might now be spoiled! How many a grim idol, doubly grim now my paintbrush had touched it-how many an Eastern chief, and carved canoe, might now, in the damp, be curling up its fair proportions!

It was grievous to think of the risk; yet when I petitioned Matilda to go into the shrubbery, and feel her way in the dark to the root-house, I knew there was little chance of her consenting.

"What! go out at this time of night, miss ?" she said, “and me, so often laid up with the toothache; I wonder you can think of such a thing?"

“Then I shall go and ask cook or Mary," I answered; and forthwith I ran down into the kitchen, where I found the two servants sitting together at work.

"Me go out into that lonesome place, miss ?" exclaimed cook, with a shiver-" Me go out when it's pitch dark ?”

"But, cook, you could easily find your way if you would feel the trees with your hands," I replied, "and the night seems quite warm."

"I wouldn't do it if it was as much as my place was worth," said cook, "I wouldn't go, not even if Mary would go with me."

"Nor I, neither,” said Mary, “a nasty lonesome place, where the wind moans in the trees just like Christians."

I saw it was of no use trying to persuade them, and returned from the kitchen very much discomfited. I entered the little passage, came to the row of pegs where our garden shawls hung, and before I well knew what I was about, had taken down my own, thrown it over my head, and slipped the wooden bolt of the garden door. I looked out, it was as cook had said, an extremely dark night, but the air was quite warm, and not a leaf seemed to be stirring. I shut the door behind me, and stepped on to the gravel walk: it was so dark that I could only just see grass from gravel, but I managed to keep in the path till I ran up against the trees which bordered the shrubbery.

I put out my hand and felt the leaves-they were lauristinus leaves; I brushed along a little further, and the next leaves I touched, came off in my hand; they were fleshy, plane leaves; at last, a Scotch fir tree pricked me, and I turned down beside it, for I knew it grew at the side of the path.

How intensely dark that night was! Well as I knew the place, I continually pushed myself against the trees, and twice lost my way.

At last, the scent of a rosemary bush close to me, told that I was near the root-house. I battled with some larch trees, and pushing forward, suddenly lifted up my head. Fancy my amazement! There stood the root-house, not ten paces from me—a soft, murmuring noise proceeded from it, and light was streaming from the door and windows. Astonishment and fear made my heart beat quick. I looked again: something moved inside, but I could not tell what, though I could discern a wavering, looming shadow on the wall, and hear slight movements inside. I forgot my books, and was about to seek safety in flight, when my undefined fears were suddenly dissipated by the sound of human voices.

Curiosity triumphed. I pushed myself back into my leafy screen, and taking a wide sweep among the trees, softly approached the front, and then saw one of the most curious sights it has ever been my lot to look upon. The door was thrown back, and broad light streamed up among the green leaves, and down upon the yellow ones. The shadows still wavered on the wall, and sitting on the door-step with

our books on their knees, I saw the figures which cast them.

They were two young girls about three years older than myself: a candle stood on the stool behind them, and they turned over the leaves, and gazed with stupid, listless wonder, at my pictures: their dress was to the last degree wretched and insufficient, they wore no bonnets, but their forlorn locks dropped out from under torn red handkerchiefs. Presently a voice spoke from within, in obedience to which, as it seemed, the elder girl flung "Robinson Crusoe" into her sister's lap, and displayed her apron full of carrots and onions, which she proceeded to pare and scrape with a broken knife.

I edged myself cautiously in front of the door, and saw the woman whose voice I had heard. She sat with her elbows on the little table, and her cheeks resting upon them. Unlike the girls, though wretchedly clad, she was clean; she had on a red print gown, very thin and scanty, a grey cloak, and a white cap-half a loaf of bread stood before her on the table, and she had a small bundle on her back, which she presently untied, and taking out a wooden spoon, two or three knives, and a tattered red shawl, proceeded to spread this last upon the floor.

I then first observed that quantities of dry leaves had been swept into one corner of the root-house, it was upon these that the shawl was spread, and it was evident that the unbidden guests intended to spend the night there.

I remained rooted by a kind of fascination to the spot while these things were going on, till the woman suddenly struck her hand on the table with a violent thump, and stamping her foot cried out

"Heathen Lands,"

"Once more, I say, be the carrots ready ?" The elder girl upon this, flung away my and answered pertly, "I tell you they can't be done any quicker; what would you have ?"

Upon this, the woman snatched up a stick, and darted towards her: down went carrots, turnips, and onions, and off fled the girls into the darkness. They dashed in among the trees: they would touch me in another second, and I sprang aside, and ran even faster than they did. If I had been long in making my way there, I was quick in returning: terror gave

me wings, and I never stopped to look back till I was safe in the open garden, which I thought both airy and lightsome after the dense darkness and closeness of the shrubbery. Then

I paused for a second, and hearing no sound but the tinkling voice of the stream, made straight for the house, over wet grass and soft borders, and never stopped to reflect that I had done wrong in going out at night without leave, till I had tried the garden-door and found it locked..

There was a light in my grandfather's little study, and while I lingered near it, hesitating what to do, I looked up, and through the window on the staircase I observed the figure of Matilda. She was flying down stairs with a candle in her hand, and a face of the utmost consternation; I saw her turn, and open the door of the study, and had no doubt she must have missed me, and as a last hope was seeking me there.

She burst into the little room, but before she had time to unfold her errand I reached it on the outside, saw my grandfather sitting at his desk, and my father standing on the rug trimming his lamp. They both started forward at sight of her white face, but at the same instant I tapped at the glass. She saw me, and ran to let me in. My grandfather took off his spectacles and stared when I entered with my shoes saturated with dew, and yellow leaves sticking to my hair and frock.

Matilda's vehemence and my plight astonished him, and he slowly shook his head with comical gravity, as if he would have said, "Here's a fuss about nothing." But my father knew very well that I must have been out without leave, and for some time too, or Matilda would not have been so much frightened; but observing how wet I was, he summarily ordered me to be put to bed, and said he should hear more about this next morning. At the moment I was too much abashed to say anything, but had no sooner laid my head on the pillow, than I remembered that my father ought to know of these people who were pilfering and lodging about his premises. I soon heard my grandfather's step in the passage, and called to him till he entered, and then I told him what I had done, and having made a clear conscience forthwith fell asleep, and slept soundly till morning.

It appears that my father and grandfather, upon receiving