Journeys Through Bookland, Vol. 7

ther in the gig when he went to fetch Tom home from the academy; but the morning

ther was in the act of brushing out the reluctant black crop Maggie suddenly rushed from under her hands and dipped her hea

y? I'll tell your aunt Glegg and your aunt Pullet when they come next week, and they'll never love you any more. Oh dear, oh dear! look at your

the roundest of eyes above the reddest of cheeks; but was now entirely defaced by a long career of vicarious suffering. Three nails driven into the head commemorated as many crises in Maggie's nine years of earthly struggle; that luxury of vengeance having been suggested to her by the picture of Jael destroying Sisera in the old Bible. The last nail had been driven in with a fiercer stroke than usual, for the Fetish on that occasion represented aunt Glegg. But immediately afterward Maggie had reflected that if she drove many nails in she would not be so well able to fancy that the head was hurt when she knocked it against t

COMING

her throw away the Fetish and run to the window. The sun was really breaking out; the sound of the mill seemed cheerful again; the granary doors were open; and there

she should encounter her mother, and was quickly out in the yard, whirling around like a Pythoness, and singing as she whirled, "Yap,

dirt," said Luke, the head miller, a tall, broad-shouldered man of f

gering a little, "Oh no, it doesn't make me

ious awe as at the presence of an uncontrollable force; the meal forever pouring, pouring; the fine white powder softening all surfaces, and making the very spider-nets look like a fairy lace-work; the sweet, pure scent of the meal,-all helped to make Magg

occasion, for, as she sat sliding on the heap of grain near which he was busyi

ad any book but the B

t," said Luke, with great frank

that would tell you all about the different sorts of people in the world, and if you didn't understand the reading, the pictures would help you; t

' Dutchmen. There ben't much

tures, Luke; we ought to kno

owin' man, used to say, says he, 'If e'er I sow my wheat wi'out brinin', I'm a Dutc

about Dutchmen. There's fools enoo, an' ro

r; that's not Dutchmen, you know, but elephants and kangaroos, and the civet cat, and the sunfish, and a bird sitting on its tail,-I forgot

at's what brings folks to the gallows,-knowin' everything but what they'n got to get their bread by. An' they're

o dearly, Luke,-better than anybody else in the world. When he grows up I shall keep his house, and we shall always live together. I can t

ll be fine an' vexed, as

t on the corn. "Oh dear, Luke! What! the lop-eared one,

ng his comparison from the unmistakab

ry day; but how could I, when they didn't come into my head, you know? Oh, he will be so angry

ver thrive: God A'mighty doesn't like 'em. He made the rabbits' ears to lie back, an' it's nothin' but contrairiness to make 'em hing down like a mastiff dog's

ded as she trotted along by Luke's side to his pleasant cottage, which stood with its apple and