My brother's keeper, by Amy Lothrop. By miss Wetherell

of his face-for at first it was too close to her own-she saw that he had his share of the sober colour, only worn differently. But what made him look so at her? There was something in his face that troubled her, and almost tearfully her eyes sought his. He smiled then, and drawing her head down till it rested against him, he asked how she was, and then after her sister.

"O she's very well," said Hulda, stroking the cat. "I suppose she's always well, for she never says she's sick. Do you think she'll miss me to-day, Mr. Raynor?"

"I do not believe she is sorry you came, dear Hulda, and I am very glad."

Hulda thought that was very strange.

Henry Raynor," said his mother as she came into the room, go I pray thee and take off those trappings at once, my child; I like them not-they become no man-much less thee."

"Then you must get down, little Hulda, for a while, if I am to go and change my dress."

It was a great pity, Hulda thought, with an uncomfortable vision of her friend arrayed in the prevailing colour.

But when he came down again the dress was black and not grey; and Hulda went to her former seat with great satisfaction.

"The dinner waiteth," said James Hoxton, opening the door. "You don't think yourself too old to be carried, Hulda?" said her friend.

"O no," said Hulda, “Alie very often carries me up stairs when I'm tired or sick."

"I should think thy weight better suited to thy brother's arms than to thy sister's," said Mrs. Raynor, as having more strength."

"O her arms are very strong!" said Hulda from her place of elevation. "They never get tired, And Thornton's not at home you know generally when I want to be carried-but Rosalie always

18.

She says gentlemen can't always be at home so much as ladies. But she don't hold me quite as well as you do, Mr. Raynor."

And with one arm passed most confidingly round his neck, they went forth together and proceeded to the dinner-table; where Hulda was as well taken care of as possible. Taken care of in more ways than one, though she was too young and unskilled to notice the delicate tact with which whenever her childish talk ran too close upon home affairs she was led off to another subject; nor how carefully she was kept, as far as might be, from making disclosures which indeed she knew not were such. And if she had been older she would have wondered at herself for her perfect at home feeling among such grave people;-for the freedom with which she talked, -her little voice making music such as it never yields when the chords have been once overstrained or the wires unstrung-most like a mountain-rill in its sweet erratic course. And the older ones looked and listened-Mrs. Raynor with often a smile and sometimes with glistening eyes; while to his face the smile came less often, and there was only the look of interest and affection which won Hulda's heart yet more. And whenever the rill went too far in any one direction, it was only necessary to hold out a painted leaf

some bright word or question or anecdote-and the rill was tempted, and went that way. On the whole Hulda thought as she was carried back into the library, it had been one of the most satisfactory dinners she ever remembered.

"Hulda Clyde," said Mrs. Raynor, "I go upstairs to sleep, as is my wont. What wilt thou do, my child?"

"OI will stay here," said Hulda.

"You can content yourself for awhile with the cat and me, I am sure," said Mr. Raynor.

O yes-and without the cat," said Hulda, contentedly.

He smiled, and his mother came up behind him, and passing her arm round his neck as if he had been a child, raised up his face and kissed it, and went away.

"What do you think of my being made a baby of yet, Hulda ?” "Thornton says that's what mamma used to do with Rosalie," said Hulda, whose little avenues of thought all ran down to the same stronghold of love and confidence. "Did you ever see my mamma, Mr. Raynor?"

"Yes, dear, often; and loved her very much."

"I don't remember her a great deal," said Hulda-" I believe I get her confused with Rosalie.'

She sat quiet a few minutes, and then started up.

"Don't you want to go to sleep, Mr. Raynor?"

Dont you ?"

"O no-not a bit."

"Neither do I."

"Well that'll be very fair, then," said Hulda, laughing. "But I should think you'd get tired of holding me, Mr. Raynor-most people don't like to."

I once had such a little sister as you are, Hulda-whom I loved better than almost anything else in the world. You remind me of her very much, and that is one reason why I like to hold you and kiss you and carry you, and do anything else with you and for you.' I'm very glad!" said Hulda, her smile half-checked by something in his look and tone. "So that's one reason, what's the other?" He smiled, and told her she must be content with hearing one; and then asked her what she had been doing and learning lately. "I don't learn a great deal," said Hulda; "only arithmetic, and geography, and little, little bits of French lessons. And then I write and I have one hymn to learn a week, and a little verse every day.'

"Tell me one of your hymns."

Then I will tell you the last one," said Hulda

"Around the throne of God in heaven,

Thousands of children stand;

Children whose sins are all forgiven,
A holy, happy band-

Singing glory, glory, glory.

"What brought them to that world above-
That heaven so bright and fair-
Where all is peace, and joy, and love P-
How came those children there,
Singing glory, glory, glory?

"Don't you

think it's pretty?" said Hulda, when she had waited what she thought a reasonable time for Mr. Raynor to speak, and he had only drawn his arm closer about her.

"I think it is much more than pretty. Do you understand it all?"

"I believe so," said Hulda; "Rosalie told me a great deal about it."

66 What?"

Why she said that even children needed to be forgiven before they went to heaven-that was one thing in the first verse,-and that people ought to try to make this world as much like heaven as they could, and that if all was peace and joy and love there it ought to be here. And then in the third verse, that we didn't only need to be forgiven, but made good and to love all good things, and that if God didn't make us to love him and like to serve him, we never could be happy in heaven even if we could get there. And she said the blood of Christ was called a flood because it was enough to save everybody in the whole world-and to make them clean, if they would only trust in it. And she said the last verse taught us that we must love and serve him now, while we are here, and then when we die he would receive us to himself.'

"And what does that word "white" mean in the third verse'Behold them white and clean?"

"Don't it mean something like clean ?" said Hulda.

Something like? yes. It shows how very pure, how very holy, will all God's children be when he has taken them to heaven. As the Bible says-"they are without spot before the throne of God" -"without fault before him"-think how very holy one must be in whom the pure eye of God sees neither spot nor fault. Such are all the children about his throne-and because thus holy they are

happy.

Do you think there is nobody that is quite good ?" said Hulda, with a face of very grave reflection.

"The Bible says, There is not a just man upon earth that doeth good and sinneth not.'

"I know it does," said Hulda, who was apparently a little troubled with some reservation in her mind. "But that only says

men. I don't suppose there are a great many."

Mrs. Raynor came down from her nap in due time, and then proposed that they should go into the greenhouse. Hulda was enchanted; and ran about and admired and asked questions to the delight of both her friends.

Would thee like some flowers to take home with thee?" said

the good Quakeress, drawing Hulda's head close to her. And Mr. Raynor's knife hardly waited the reply before it began its work. Hulda's little hands had as many as they could hold.

"And now thee must have one flower for thy sister-yea, Henry, thou art always right," she said, as her son began to examine the respective merits of the white camellias. "They are not the fairer." O Mr. Raynor! you are cutting the very prettiest one!" cried Hulda. "O, it was too bad to take that."

"Is it too pretty for your sister?"

“O, I don't think so, of course," said Hulda,-" but then it was your little bush."

Hulda wondered at the smile that passed over his face, and looked if she might see it come again, but it came not.

He tied up her flowers and put them in water for her, and walked with her about the greenhouse till the last sunbeams had left it, and the flowers grew indistinct.

"Friend Henry," said James Hoxton, appearing at this juncture, thy mother waiteth for thee at tea."

"James Hoxton is a Quaker," said Mr. Raynor, with a smile at Hulda's look.

"Does that make him speak to you so?" said Hulda. "You are not a Quaker, Mr. Raynor?"

No. If I were a Quaker, Hulda, I should call my mother 'friend Joan.'

"Should you! But that would be very disrespectful," said Hulda.

"No-not if I were a Quaker."

“O—' said Hulda, a little and only a little enlightened. "I'm very glad you're not a Quaker-I don't like grey at all;" though when she got to the tea table, Hulda could not help liking everything about Mrs. Raynor-even her grey dress.

Mr. Raynor took her home in the carriage after tea. Not sitting by his side but on his lap, and wrapped up in his arms as if she were a precious little thing that he was afraid to lose sight of. But he would not come in, though Hulda begged and entreated him. He carried her and her flowers up the steps and into the hall, where Tom stood holding the door, and then ran down again, and in a moment was in the carriage and off.

CHAPTER XV.

So th' one for wrong, the other strives for right.-Faery Queen.

WELL, what sort of a time did you have among the Quakers yesterday" said Thornton, when he saw Hulda at breakfast next morning.

"O, it was beautiful!" said Hulda, with a pause of delight in the midst of buttering her roll.

"What was beautiful?"

"O, everything! And they were so kind to me-and I like Mr.

Raynor so much! And the flowers-O Thornton, did you see mine that I brought home? and the camellia? That is Rosalie's; and it was the very prettiest one they had; and I told Mr. Raynor so, and yet he would cut it."

Perhaps he did not agree with you."

"O yes he did. I thought he was going to cut a white one at first, and then he chose this.'

"Then he did not choose the prettiest, to my fancy," said Thornton.

"Why, you don't know anything about it!" cried Hulda. “I never saw such a beauty, and I don't believe you ever did." And away she ran to bring ocular proof of the camellia's perfectness. No further argument was necessary; for admirable kind and culture had produced one of those exquisite results that the eye is never satisfied with seeing. Thornton silently took it in his hand to examine.

The flower was hardly at its full opening, two or three of the inner petals being yet inclined towards each other with a budlike effect; but the rest lay folded back in clear glossy beauty, leaf beyond leaf-each one as spotless and perfect as the last. They were of a delicious rose-colour-not very deep, but pure, perfect, as a tint could be; and the stem, which had been cut some inches below the flower, spread out for it an admirable foil in two or three deep green leaves.

"Isn't that beautiful?" said Hulda, who stood at her brother's side with her little hands folded and her little face in a rival glow. 'Exquisite !-I never saw such a one! Alie, I must get you a plant. I wonder what is its name, if it has any."

"There was a little stick stuck in the flower-pot," said Hulda, "but I don't know what was on it.'

"Do you know?" said Thornton, looking towards his sister. "I think, I believe it is called Lady Hume's blush."

Thornton laughed.

"This is probably a variety called Miss Clyde's blush. It might be, at all events. Methinks the Quakers performed some conjuration over you, Hulda,-it seems that you have suddenly become a little conductor-a sort of electric machine, charged by one party with a shock for another."

Shock!" said Hulda. "But I don't think I have shocked anybody."

"That is the very thing."

"But what do you mean by Miss Clyde's blush?" said Hulda, who was getting excessively mystified.

"Ask her what she means by it," said Thornton. Alie, just ring your bell, will you? Tom, did you get my sword-belt?"

No, sir-Jansen said he thought all the Captains was a conspirating against him; and if they were Generals instead he couldn't do no more than he could," he said.

"And what did you say to that?"

"I told him he was a considerable piece off from doing more than he could, yet, and I guessed he'd better send the belt home to-night and no more about it."

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