happened that breakfast had commenced, and Marten and some of the bigger boys had nearly finished the meal before all the young ladies came down, and as Mary Roscoe chanced to be late, for this good natured girl had been helping others as usual, Marten did not discover the absence of his brother till she entered the room and seated herself at the table.  Then he stepped round to her and asked if Reuben would soon be down.  “Oh! dear little fellow,” exclaimed Mary, starting up, “He did not sleep in my room, so I know nothing about him; but now I will run to find him to bring him to breakfast.  I dare say he has overslept himself, or I should have heard of him before now.”

“If you are speaking of the little boy who cried so bitterly at blindman’s buff, Mary,” said a Miss Lomax, “he was put to sleep in a little bed by himself in our room.  Maria and myself noticed how soundly he slept through all the noise we made when we went to our rooms, but when we got up this morning the little fellow was gone, and we wondered who had drest him and taken him away so quietly as not to disturb us.”

“Oh! then I’ll find him in a minute,” said Mary, “if he has been drest so long he must be sadly in want of his breakfast, poor little darling,” and Mary was half way up stairs before she had finished her speech.

And now how shall I describe what a fearful state the whole house was in before ten minutes more had passed away:  the child was lost, the fearful question of where and how he might be found was on everybody’s lips.  Poor Marten, it was dreadful to see his terror and grief, and Mary, oh! how negligent Mary felt herself, for had she not assisted greatly to his loss by taking him from his brother, and had she not promised that brother the evening before to see him in his bed and look after him, which she had forgotten to do.  Jenkins, too, the motherly female who had so kindly attended the little one the night before, how did she blame herself for not taking the child with her after she had dressed him, when she was obliged to go to her work, which was much increased that morning by the state in which the young people had left the room, the scene of the last night’s revels.

And here I would make a remark, which I must beg no one to reject, without well weighing the idea.  The most amiable females of the party assembled at Mrs. Jameson’s, Mary Roscoe and Jenkins, who had put themselves most out of their way, and had really acted the kindest by the child, were those who felt the most in the affair, and most blamed themselves for their own conduct, whereas if all had tried their best, as they did, the little fellow would have ever had some kind heart beside him to soothe and comfort him, and some one might have anticipated his uneasiness at finding himself alone amongst strangers.  Anyhow they would not have been as strangers to him, for he afterwards acknowledged, on being questioned, that had Miss Mary been sleeping in the room, he should