And loved to carry charity

To the abodes of misery."

 

 There was a tiny bark floating down the flower-bordered river that wound so gracefully through the beautiful village of Wimbledon, and a smiling little lady, in a neat gingham sun-bonnet, sat coseyly in the stern, beneath the shady wing of the snow-white sail. A noble-looking lad plied the oar with graceful ease, chatting merrily the while with the little girl, and laughing at her constant and matronly care of a large basket which was placed beside her, neatly covered with a snowy napkin. "One would think that there were diamonds in that basket, Nell, you guard it so carefully," said he. 

 "No, only nice pies mother gave me leave to take to Aunt Dilly Danforth, the poor washerwoman," returned the little miss, again smoothing the napkin and adjusting the basket in a new position. "I wish you would row as carefully as you can, Neddie, so as not to jostle them much." 

 "So I will, sis," returned he; "let's sing the Boatman's Song as we glide along." And their voices rose on the calm summer air clear and sweet as the morning song of birds. Now and then their light barge touched the shore, and Ned plucked flowers to twine in Ellen's hair. O, that ever, down life's uncertain tide, these innocent young spirits might float as calmly, happily on to the broad ocean of eternity! 

 "Is that the old shanty where Dilly lives?" said the lad at length, pointing to a low black house, just beyond a clump of brushwood, which they were swiftly approaching. 

 "Yes," said Ellen, gathering up her basket. 

 "Here I must lose you, then," said Ned; "how I wish you would go fishing with me down to the cove!" 

 Ellen smiled. "Are you going to be all alone, Neddie?" asked she. 

 "Nobody but Charlie Seaton will be with me. You like him." 

 "Yes, I like him well enough," said Ellen, innocently; "but I would not care to go a-fishing with him." 

 "Why not, sis?" inquired Ned. 

 "Because it would not be pretty for a little girl to go fishing with boys." 

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