other. When a son and heir was born, his father and mother doted on him, and the farmers and the village people talked as if such a baby had never cut its teeth before. He grew up to be as handsome. as his father, and at first it seemed as if he would be as good; but he turned wild when he went away from home, and Sir Henry had to pay ever so much money for him, and people began to notice how suddenly old Sir Henry and Lady Mary looked. But still they could not help loving their naughty son, and, though he was far away from Ackhurst on his twenty-first birthday, they had an ox roasted whole and got up all kinds of fun for the farmers and the village people. He never came back to Ackhurst until he was past thirty, and all that time his father was paying away ever so much more money for him, and both father and mother looked older and older every day. When their son came back, he was so very ill that he could hardly make them understand that the little girl he brought with him was his only child. Maud was a sweet sunny little girl, but there was not time to take much notice of her then -her father was so very, very ill. Lady Mary would not let any one nurse him but herself, and one night she was so tired that she fell asleep for a minute. When she woke she saw that the bed was empty, and that the window was open. The sick man had jumped out of it in his fever, and his mother could see him running fast over the moonlit park, towards the woody hollow. Lady Mary called Sir Henry, and then ran out of the house herself, but, when her husband got to the pond, she was in the water as well as her son, and when they were taken out they were both dead. The mother's arms were clasped tight round her son, but she had not been able to save him. * You can think of Ackhurst Pond when you hear " Lord have mercy on us, and incline our hearts to keep this law," chanted after the Commandments. If Sir Henry's son had honoured his father and mother, his mother's days as well as his own would have been longer in the land, and his father, perhaps, would not have to ride about, looking so lonely, under Simpson's care. At first Sir Henry seemed as if he was stunned by the death of his wife and son; but, after a time, he took to little Maud as if he would love her enough for both of them as well as himself, and she was as fond of him. She was too young-poor little soul to miss her grandmamma much, or to understand that she was an orphan; but she quite understood how nice it was to have a kind grandpapa always ready to do something to please her. She toddled about the house, holding his finger in her fat little hand; he gave her rides on his foot, and on his shoulder, and in the pony-chaise, and before him on his horse; he bought her more toys than even her busy little fingers could break; she slept in a little cot beside his bed; and she sat on a high chair at his right hand at dinner. He could not bear to have his little pet out of his sight. But, though he did pet her, she was not spoilt. Every one called her a little darling, and said that it was most fortunate that Sir Henry had such a sweet little charge as Miss Maud to make him take an interest in life. But one day, when she and her grandpapa were walking in the park, she saw the woody hollow, and asked him to take her down into it. He had never been near the pond since that dreadful night, but he could not refuse her anything. So they went out of the sunshine into the damp shade, and through it down to the side of the sad pond. Little Maud, however, thought it the prettiest place she had ever seen in her life. She was so unwilling to come away that her grandpapa sat down in the driest spot that he could find, to watch her whilst she flitted about, as bright as a butterfly and as blithe as a bird. She stayed so long that, in spite of his watchfulness, her grandpapa fell asleep. He woke with a start, and anxiously shouted "Maud!" But Maud could not hear him, for she was lying dead under one of the nightshade bushes, with her pale, drawn little face and flabby little fingers stained with the deadly juice. After that Sir Henry never held up his head again. It sank lower and lower, until it came to hang as it does now. But when he is by the pond, the poor old man talks to his wife and son (if Simpson will let him), and looks about half-pleased, half-puzzled, as if he was nearly sure that he could see poor little Maud dancing in and out among the bushes. He forgets then that she and her grandmother and her father have been sleeping in Ackhurst Chancel this many a year. QUESTIONS.-Can you name some of the plants that grew round the pond? What plants grew in the water? What was the name of the great fish in it? What flies zigzagged over it? What birds flashed across it? What water birds lived on it or round it? What happened there? Tell the story of the death of the son and wife. How did little Maud die? THE SPLENDOUR FALLS ON CASTLE WALLS.-Tennyson. THE splendour falls on castle walls Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, O hark, O hear! how thin and clear, The horns of Elfland faintly blowing! O love, they die in yon rich sky, And grow for ever and for ever. Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, EPITAPH.-Ben Jonson, 1574-1637. UNDERNEATH this sable hearse Sidney's sister, Pembroke's mother. NEARLY 1800 years ago, in the old Roman times, for ages and ages, Mount Vesuvius had been lying quiet, like any other hill. Beautiful cities were built at its foot, filled with people who were as handsome, and as comfortable, and (I am afraid) as wicked, as people ever were on earth. Fair gardens, vineyards, oliveyards, covered the mountain slopes. It was held to be one of the Paradises of the world. As for the mountain's being a burning mountain, who ever thought of that? To be sure, on the top of it was a great round crater, or cup, a mile or more across, and a few hundred yards deep. But that was all overgrown with |