“Or that the sheep walked about in the form of nicely grilled chops,” suggested Becker.

“And you, young ladies, what would you wish?”

Mary, who was now beyond the age of dolls, and was fast approaching the period of young womanhood, felt that it was a duty incumbent upon her to be more reserved than her sister, and rarely took part in the conversation, unless she was directly addressed, ceased plying her needle, and replied, smiling,

“I wish I could make some potent elixir in the same way as gooseberry wine, that would restore sick people to health, then I would give a few drops to my father, and make him strong and well, as he used to be.”

“Thank you for the intention, my dear child.”

“And you, Miss Sophia?  It is your turn.”

“I wish that all the little children were collected together, and that every papa and mamma could pick out their own from amongst them.”

Here Willis took out his pocket-handkerchief and appeared to be blowing his nose, it being an idea of his that a sailor ought not to be caught with a tear in his eye.

“Now then, Willis, we must have a wish from you.”

“I wish three things:  that there had not been a hurricane lately, that canoes could be converted into three masters, and that Miss Sophia may be Queen of England.”

“Granted,” cried Jack.

And laying hold of a wreath of violets that the young girl had been braiding, he solemnly placed it on her head.

“You will make her too vain,” said Mrs. Wolston.

“Ah mamma, do not scold,” and gracefully taking the crown from her own fair curls, she placed it on the silvery locks of her mother; “I abdicate in your favor, and, sweetheart, I thank you for placing our dynasty on the throne.  Mary, you are a princess.”

“Yes,” she replied, “and here is my sceptre,” holding up her spindle.

“Well answered, my daughter, that is a woman’s best sceptre, and her kingdom is her house.”

“Our conversation,” said Becker, “is like those small threads of water which, flowing humbly from the hollow of a rock, swell into brooks, then become rivers, and, finally, lose themselves in the ocean.”

“It was Ernest that led us on.”

“Well, it is time now to get back to your starting-point again.  God has said that we shall earn our bread by the sweat of our brow, and consequently that our enjoyments should be the result of our own industry; that is the reason that venison is given to us in the form of the swift stag, and palaces in the form of clay; man is endowed with reason, and may, by labor, convert all these blessings to his use.”

“Your notion,” said Mr. Wolston, “of drawing the fish out of the sea ready cooked, puts me in mind of an incident of college life which, with your permission, I will relate.”

“Oh yes, papa, a story!”

“There was at Cambridge, when I was there, a young man, who, instead of study and sleep, spent his days and nights in pistol practice and playing on the French horn, much to the annoyance of an elderly maiden lady, who occupied the apartments that were immediately under his own.”