mother,’ but she was greatly puzzled, and said, ‘Oh, mamma, I am only a little girl.’ Then she said I must tell her all about the gentleman that she had heard papa say had a great many parts—‘more, I suppose, mamma, than any of us.’ I only kissed her at this, and told her of the golden daffodils and many other flowers I had noticed; and of two great blackbirds I had seen hopping very lovingly together upon the lawn. She said she liked to hear of these extremely; and I told of the roast sucking-pig with an orange in its mouth, which was at the top of the table; but she did not like this; she said it would remind her of the little piggy running about, which that little pig would never do any more. Then she said she would tell me of one of p. 52her little misfortunes, which she thought was almost a big one: ‘the poor brown hen with ten little chicks had been shut up by themselves, because the little chicks would run about too far; and the boy had forgotten them, and they had been shut up without anything to eat for ever so many hours; and when we put some barley in, dear old browney clucked and clucked, and showed the grains to the chicks, but never touched one herself, mamma, and when the little chicks had eaten till they were quite full, she called them all under her wings, and they went fast asleep; but then, mamma, there was not one single barley left near the poor mother; and so I do believe mamma, she would have been quite starved to death, only we put some barley and some nice crumbs quite close to her; so she got them without moving a bit, or waking the chicks, and oh, mamma, she did gobble it up so fast; I know she was so hungry, for she did not eat one single barley-corn before, for I watched her all the time; wasn’t it sweet and good of her, mamma? I shall love that dear old browney for always.’ And so my little daughter and I chatted away and enjoyed ourselves hugely, till my dear good man, who I had thought was sitting over his wine, and perhaps his pipe—but I don’t know about that because of the company—came suddenly behind us. He kissed us both, saying, ‘My two sweet gossips, it does my heart good to hear you. It seems to me, my Margery,’ he said, ‘that our little one here hath both a sound heart and a wise head.’”

p. 50

p. 51

p. 52

There the paper is torn, and I could see no other word. It appears to me that this, and many other gossipries, are, in their small way, good, and that when they are not good, it is because the heart is cankered, and the head empty; and so we come round to the conclusion on all subjects and on all difficulties, especially 

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