the room; and then coming to herself after a while, would return, saying, “Mamma, here is Daisy." Then mamma would look up and, if she saw a little girl whose frowns and pouts had passed away, would kiss her, and say, "I am glad to see her again." But I will tell you no more of Daisy the naughty, as I am sure you would much rather hear of Daisy the good. Before proceeding further, it may be well to note the tragic fate of Dame Nutt. A boy called at Mr. Leaf's one day, bringing a small cage containing a grey squirrel, whose frolicsome capers amused Daisy very much. After she had watched him for a few minutes, she thought he must be hungry, and wished to give him some milk to drink in a saucer, as she did the kitten; but she was told that the squirrel would not like that at all. "He eats apples, nuts, and acorns," the boy said. It was late in the season for apples, and Daisy's father said they had neither nuts nor acorns. "Oh, I know something he will like!" cried Daisy. "Won't he eat a nut-doll?" 66 Bring one here and see," was the reply. After considerable searching, Daisy brought forth Dame Nutt from the bottom of a large box of playthings, where she had lain for a long time. Daisy quickly took off the dress and put the nut between the bars of the cage. The squirrel took it between his fore-paws and began gnawing and nibbling away, much to his own and Daisy's gratification. Soon none of it was left except the pieces of the shell. The next August Cora came up as she had promised, to make a long visit. Instead of Robert, Nannie came with her this time. As they were unpacking their trunk, Daisy noticed that Nannie had a box just like hers. “Run down stairs and bring yours up," said Nannie. Daisy brought it, and, taking off the cover, put it in a chair. Nannie then opened hers; and, had you been there, you might have seen that not only the boxes, but their contents were alike, save the dress of the dolls. Nannie's had on a buff dress and cape, a straw hat trimmed with cord, and a wee bit of a feather. "Why, yours is not dressed in summer clothes yet!" said Nannie. "No," replied Daisy, "I've been very busy lately, and I couldn't get any dress-maker. But she goes out so little that it doesn't make much difference." "No," continued Nannie, "I suppose it doesn't make so much difference here as it does in the city whether you are in the fashion or not." Cora told Nannie she ought not to speak so, "for," said she, "auntie knows the fashions as well as we do, only it is not likely that she has time to dress dolls; and Daisy has not any older sister to do it for her." "We haven't any Biddy now," interrupted Daisy, "and mamma and I do all the work." Cora, who had gone on taking the things from the trunk, now handed Nannie a small box, saying, "Here it is; show it to Daisy." What should be in it but a dress, hat, and cape for Miss Prissy, precisely like those of Nannie's doll. Prissy's winter garments were soon thrown aside, and she was dressed in her new ones. "I should think they were sisters instead of cousins!" exclaimed Nannie. Cora had not forgotten her project for the improvement of Daisy's playhouse, and they went to work that very day. In addition to the moss-cushioned stones which they prepared for seats, Mr. Leaf made for them a rustic settee, which, besides being a very useful artiele, had quite a pleasant effect upon the general appearance of the place. They even contrived two or three shelves, on one of which they arranged the acorns and acorn cups which served them for china ware, and on another, a few books which Cora had brought from home. Several kinds of mosses and cones prettily disposed did good service in the way of decoration. "It is all done now," cried Nannie clapping her hands. "Is it?" asked Ella Clark, looking over the fence. "Isn't it nice?" said Daisy, "Splendid!" "Why didn't you come over again this morn ing?" inquired Cora. "I couldn't very well. I staid at home to help mother, so that I might go out to ride with papa this afternoon; and I came out to ask you with us. go There is plenty of room for all. to We are going down by the mill and away over they then recollected that Cora had spoken of to Pine Hill." As Ella went to the house with the girls, and said that her father had given her permission to come over with the invitation, Mrs. Leaf consented, and they were soon gone; not, however, before the appearance of cousin Lucy. They had barely time to greet her before Mr. Clark drove into the yard. naming the house and putting up a sign. But enough of this. We are now ready to go back to our old path and begin our journey where we left off with Lucy and Cora in the garden. When all was done, Cora said, "Now we will go and tell auntie that Elm House, having been newly fitted up, is ready for visitors.” She did not need to go in or to repeat her words; her aunt had just come out and heard it all. "It is indeed very pretty," said she, “but do you intend to open a hotel?" Oh, no," answered Cora, "it is not a public house. We only care to see people whom we know and like; to receive our friends, I mean." “Ah, you are thinking of a housewarming, I "All ready? That's right," said he as he fancy. Aren't you?" helped them into the carriage. The little girls fairly off, the carriage quite out of sight, Lucy and Cora began at once to be very busy with scissors, paper, and evergreen. Of the paper, which was thick and firm, they cut out several pieces in the shape of different letters of the alphabet. These they covered with the evergreen, and then they tacked them on to the fence directly over the rustic settee. "What will Nannie and Daisy think of this, I wonder," said Lucy. -Now, if any of you who read this have the least particle of curiosity, it seems to me that you, too, are wondering, "What will Nannie and Daisy think of it?" and for this once, I am disposed to go out of my regular course to gratify your inquisitiveness. Those who don't care to know, can skip over a page or two, and begin after the next dash. Daisy's bright eyes peeping out of the carriage when they came in sight of home spied the work which had been done in their absence. "Look," cried she, "there are some letters on our fence! guess there's a reading book growing." I What?" exclaimed Nannie and Ella, who were sitting on the back seat and could not see as well as she could. “Oh, I can read it," continued Daisy. says Elm House"." "It Now the carriage stopped and the girls all went to the garden. 66 "Who do you suppose did it?” asked Daisy. Why, Cora and Lucy of course," answered Nannie. "That would be charming, auntie," said Cora; though she declared she had not thought of it before. "Well," Mrs. Leaf went on to say, "next Wednesday will be Daisy's birthday and we might have a little picnic party here for her on that day, if it is pleasant. To-day is Friday and you will not need to send any invitations until Monday, so do not say anything about it for two or three days." While Mrs. Leaf was speaking, Lucy and Cora expressed by their looks their approval of her plan. Now they said, speaking very much as though they meant it, that it would be "delightful, charming, splendid!" They all returned to the sitting-room, where the girls were presently deeply engaged in the beauties and mysteries of bead-work. The clock struck five. 66 Why," said Daisy, "we have been in here nearly an hour, and the children haven't come back yet." 66 They must be stopping a long while somewhere," said Cora; "but hark, I believe I hear a carriage. Yes, it has stopped at the other door." "There it is now, going along," said Lucy. I think the girls have gone into the garden." "Well, let us finish stringing these beads before tea is ready; auntie always has it early." They had just strung the last one, when they saw Ella running past the windows towards home. A moment more, and Nannie and Daisy came running in, with cheeks full of roses, and hands They agreed that it was very pretty, and full of water lilies and sweet-scented clethra. “Oh, how fragrant!" exclaimed Cora. "I do so admire the clethra." "Is that what you call the sweet pepperbush? I like that ever so much," said Lucy. "I love the lilies best," said Nannie, “and I think you would, too, if you had seen them when they were all bright. They looked so beautiful on the water, like the vessels which we saw out at sea with their sails all spread, when we went to Nahant last summer in the steamboat." "Yes," interrupted Daisy, "but they all went to sleep pretty soon after we had them, though mamma says they will wake up to-morrow, if we put them in water." "I like them both very much," returned Cora. "They are ma's favorite flowers. I wish she could have some; she would be so delighted." Perhaps you can send her some to-morrow,'' suggested Lucy. Yes," said Daisy, "papa is going to Boston to-morrow morning; and he will carry them for you." So, Cora filled a box with lilies and the sweet clethra, and her mother received it with much pleasure before the next noon. Little by Little. One step and then another, And the largest rent is mended; One brick upon another, And the highest wall is made! One flake upon another, And the deepest snow is laid. So the little coral workers, By their slow but constant motion, Have built those pretty islands In the distant, dark blue ocean; And the noblest undertakings Man's wisdom hath conceived, By oft repeated efforts Have been patiently achieved. Then do not look disheartened O'er the work you have to do, And say that such a mighty task You never can get through; But just endeavor day by day Another point to gain, And soon the mountain which you feared Will prove to be a plain. "Rome was not builded in a day," The ancient proverb teaches; And Nature, by her fruits and flowers, The same true sermon preaches, Think not of far-off duties, But of duties which are near; And having once begun to work, Resolve to persevere. A Clover Blossom. BY DELL A. CURTIS. Within my silent home to day I muse with aching heart, On those dear ones whose home and mine The little maid, with Gipsy face, And eyes like shining dew, The baby-boy whose prattling grace Be wrenched from Love's outreaching clasp, Why do my eyes with tears o'erflow? I found it on the mantle left, The tears are in my eyes the while, And this is why I smile and weep, The clover in his hand, And offer with his smiling glance The flower he loved so well; And then I muse, if up above, Can lovelier angels dwell! The little Gipsy girl they say, Retains a fond regard For those same Clover blooms that grow Within her "Auntie's yard." From tiniest babyhood the child Has loved the blossoms well, And seemed herself an opening bud, To love mid flowers to dwell. One morn when summers two had passed, In baby grief she wept, Because the snow had come and hid The Clover while she slept! These mem'ries come to me to-day, I cannot bid them go, They are filling all the summer air, I sing them too with art less fine, The while I pray that God will keep THINGS should not be done by halves. If it be right, do it boldly; if it be wrong, leave it undone. Every day is a little life, and our whole life is but a day repeated. "GOD WILL TAKE CARE OF BABY." A beautiful child had been taught to say, and it could say little else, "God will take care of baby." It was seized with sickness, at a time when both parents were just recovering from a dangerous illness. Every day it grew worse, and at last was given up to die. Almost agonized, the mother begged to be carried into the room of her darling, to give it one last embrace. Both parents succeeded in reaching the apartment just as it was thought the baby had breathed its last. The mother wept aloud, when once more the little creature opened its eyes, and looking lovingly up in her face, smiled, moved its lips, and in a faint voice said, "God will take care of baby," and died. He went in the good ship Dolphin; but the vessel was never heard of after she had been a week out of port. There was a dreadful storm; many vessels were lost; sad tidings from the sea, but nothing from the ship Dolphin or any of her crew. Long the children watched upon the sandy beach, and strained their eyes in looking over the smooth sea; then went back to their mother over the same path they had taken so often before. "I will take care of you, mother," said Charlie. "I will work for you.' Long they may watch and wait, but their father will never return. The ship was lost in that dreadful storm, and all on board went down into the deep sea! But happy was their father, for he had not forgotten God, his Creator and Redeemer. While he was a youth be had taken Jesus Christ to be his friend and portion, and now he is in that world where is pure pleasure and no pain; where the bright angels sing, and Jesus makes his people always happy. Charlie and Nelly will go to him, but he will not return to them. GIRLS. There are two kinds of girls. One is the kind that appears best abroad the girls that are good for balls, rides, parties, visits, &c., and whose chief delight is in such things. The other is the kind that appears best at homethe girls that are useful and cheerful in the dining-room, the sick-room, and all the precincts of home. They differ widely in character. One is often a torment at home-the other a blessing; one is a moth, consuming everything about her; the other a sunbeam, diffusing life and gladness to all around her. HUMILITY. A farmer went with his son into a wheat field to see if it was ready for the harvest. "See, father!" exclaimed the boy, "how straight these stems hold up their heads. They Those that hang their must be the best ones. heads down, I am sure, are not good for much." The father plucked a stalk of each kind and said, "See here, foolish child! This stalk that stood so straight and high is lightheaded and almost good for nothing, while this that hung its head so modestly is full of the most beautiful grain." Charades. 5. My first the sweetest sound of every summer day, My second crawling slowly on the ground, My first is the sweetest of flowers That in nature's garden grow, Though they quickly come and go. And yet no less our grief. My whole hath healing powers no lip will e'er deny, In pain we've only to sip and sweet relief is nigh. THE LADIES' REPOSITORY. NOVEMBER, 1865. THE BANKER'S DAUGHTER. A HARD, stern man of the world was Wil liam Weston, the banker of Lombardstreet. He and I began life together; he mounted a stool in his uncle's banking-house; I entered as a student at St. Bartholomew's Hospital. It is now thirty-five years ago, and in that time William Weston has amassed a fortune of nearly half a million of money; yet would I not change with him could he give me double the sum and a peerage to boot. At five and-thirty he married his cousin Ellen Weston, solely for money and the prospective partnership in his uncle's banking firm-love was out of the question. He did not care a jot for her, and she not only hated him, but loved another. It may be imagined that but little happiness ensued from such an union. His wife-broken spirited and heart-broken-only lived three years, leaving him an only daughter. Years rolled on; his uncle, the head of the firm, died, and William Weston stepped into his shoes and fortune. Under his skilful management the business and profits of the bank increased rapidly. The firm of Weston & Co. was high in the estimation of business men - their paper was good for millions- their credit almost boundless. A great number of the landed gentry and nobility banked with the firm of Weston & Co., for there was not a banker in London so accommodating. Did a noble lord overdraw his accounts a few thousands it passed unnoticed. Did a customer re VOL. XXXIV.-17 quire forty or fifty thousand pounds at a day's notice, there was not the least trouble about it merely a few title deeds from the family solicitor deposited in the banker's strong box, and the thing was done - the amount was paid over by check at once. In the fire-proof room of the bank reposed the title deeds of many a noble mansion and ancestral estate. Some of these priceless parchments were in solitary grandeur; by the side or on top, however, were other parchments with the name of the estate and the ominous word MORTGAGE engrossed on the back, followed by four, five, and even six figures. Conspicuous among these latter was a large parch"The Earl of Carrington's ment inscribed, estates." This was covered, surrounded, and almost concealed by a number of other deeds bearing the names of particular estates and farms, but all with the name MORTGAGE engrossed on them, with sums beneath ranging from five thousand pounds to thirty thousand pounds, and amounting in all to nearly one hundred and ninety thousand pounds. William. Weston smiled grimly when he opened this particular strong box, in order to add to its contents a fresh deed endorsed with the same ominous word. Be it observed, however, that these latter mortgages were not for large amounts, mostly ranging from one to five thousand pounds. Clearly the noble Earl was getting to the end of his tether. The family estates were encumbered when he succeeded to them, and the title; and it may well be imagined that a racing stud and an expenditure of |