Mrs. Wilton then produced a beautiful Japan box, and, opening it, displayed to the admiring gaze of the young party a number of curious contrivances to tease and tire impatient folks, exquisitely cut in ivory, and mother-of-pearl, and light woods.  Each puzzle was ticketed; and, highly delighted, they all sat down to partake of the good things spread on the table, determined to vie with each other in trials of skill and perseverance on their curious little toys.  We wish them success, and “Good night.”

CHAPTER V.

  There was an old and quiet man,
  And by thy fire sat he: 
  “And now,” he said, “to you I’ll tell
  A dismal thing which once befel
  To a ship upon the sea.”

“Oh, mamma, dear mamma,” exclaimed Emma, bursting into the parlor where Mrs. Wilton was sitting at work, “everything goes wrong to-day.  Look here, the postman has brought a note from Dora Leslie:  she has been to a party, caught a cold, and is obliged to remain in the house for I know not how long.  What can we do without her?  I am sure my portion will not be ready; for, in the first place, I know not how to begin with America:  the number of seas, gulfs, and bays quite puzzles me, and I have felt so miserable all day, because I have no notes prepared for the meeting.”

Mrs. Wilton continued her sewing while Emma thus gave vent to her feelings; then quietly taking her hand, “My dear little girl,” said she, “sit down by me and listen.

“Many years ago there dwelt in a little cot on a hill’s side an aged matron and her grandchild; they were alone, but not lonely, for they were happy in each other’s society; their wants were few, and their gratitude unbounded.  There were no neighbors near them,—­no gossips to drop in upon them, and fritter away the precious moments.  They subsisted on the produce of their garden, and labored for their daily bread in gladness of heart.

“Every morn, almost with the sun, Eva arose, fed the chickens that fluttered around her, and went through her business merrily,—­richly rewarded by the approving smile of her aged parent, when she blessed her darling before retiring to rest.

“But ‘man is born to trouble, as the sparks fly upward,’ and this happy pair were not exempt from the curse.  One night, the wind blew, the rain fell in torrents, thunder and lightning rent the skies, and, in fear and trembling, the aged woman and her fair grandchild wept and prayed, until the glorious sun rose above the horizon, and proclaimed the advent of another day.  Then Eva stepped to the cottage door, and gazed in speechless agony on the devastation wrought by the fury of the elements in one single night.  The beautiful path, lately so trim and neat, which led to her garden, was blocked up with stones borne from the mountain’s side by the violence of the torrent.  Her vines were crushed and drooping; and even the poor birds came not to her side, but remained crowded together in a corner under the shade of the cottage roof.