places, far off,
that Mungo Park tells us about, and Gulliver, and Captain Parry. And I
should often like to sleep at night when I cannot; and then I get up
softly, without waking Phoebe, and look out at the bright stars, and
think over all we are told about them--about their being all full of men
and women. Did you know that, George?" asked she--George being now at
the window.

"Oh, yes," answered Matilda for him, "we know all about those things."

"Are falling stars all full of men and women?" asked George.

"There were none on a star that my father saw fall on the Dingleford
road," observed Phoebe. "It wasn't big enough to hold men and women."

"Did it fall in the middle of the road?" asked George, turning from the
window. "What was it like?"

"It was a round thing, as big as a house, and all bright and crystal
like," said Phoebe, with absolute confidence. "It blocked up the road
from the great oak that you may remember, close by the second milestone,
to the ditch on the opposite side."

"Phoebe, are you sure of that?" asked Mrs Enderby, with a face full of
anxious doubt.

"Ma'am, my father came straight home after seeing it fall, and he let my
brother John and me go the next morning early, to bring home some of the
splinters."

"Oh, well," said Mrs Enderby, who always preferred believing to
doubting; "I have heard of stones falling from the moon."

"This was a falling star, ma'am."

"Can you show me any of the splinters?" asked George, eagerly.

"There was nothing whatsoever left of them," said Phoebe, "by the time
John and I went. We could not find a piece of crystal so big as my
thimble. My father has often laughed at John and me since, for not
having been there in time, before it was all gone."

"It is a good thing, my dears, depend upon it, as I was saying,"
observed Mrs Enderby, "to know all such things about the stars, and so
on, against the time when you cannot do as you like, and go where you
please. Matilda, my jewel, when you are married, as you were talking
about, and can please yourself, you will take great care to be kind to
your mamma, my dear, if poor mamma should be old and ill. You will
always wish to be tender to your mother, love, I am sure; and that will
do her more good than anything."

"Perhaps mamma won't be ill," replied Matilda.

"Then if she is never ill, she will certainly be old, some day; and then
you will be as kind to her as ever you can be,--promise me, my l