ought to be called Donkey; it would suit
his kicking ways better.' It was quite true he kicked, but he never
did it with Mat on him, and went along the rails as smooth as oil.
Well, at one part o' the line, there is a gradual long incline, and
one day we were just putting on more steam to run up, when we sees at
the top two or three coaches coming tearing down straight upon us. We
knew there was a heavy excursion train on ahead, and we had been going
rather slow on that account, and this was some of the coaches that had
got uncoupled from the rest. Well, Bill, my mate, no sooner saw it
coming, than says he, 'Jump for your life!' and out he went. But I
knew what a quick engine the Bison was, and, moreover, I saw our guard
had noticed the danger, too, and would work with me; so I reversed
the engine, and ran back, until the coaches came up to us, but did no
further damage save giving us a bit of a shake as they struck on the
old Bison; and so we drove them afore us right up to the station. Bill
was killed, as might have been expected, for he had no faith in the
Bison whatever; and so the company, they came to see I understood that
engine, and they made me driver o' him from that time."

Archy now bade the worthy engine-driver good night, saying that he
should always take a greater interest in engines than ever before, and
that he should have liked very much to have seen such a famous one as
the Bison.

John Stocks evidently took this speech as a personal compliment, and,
in consequence, bade Archy a friendly good by, saying, as he did so,
"that people nowadays talked of nothing but ships and extraordinary
guns, and what not, but to his mind a good engine was before them
all."

MRS. GEORGE CUPPLES.

THE CHILDREN'S SONG.

Merrily sang the children, as their mother softly played;
With eager, outstretched faces a pretty group they made;
Their clear and bird-like voices ran loudly through the air,
Till "Baby" heard the music, and crept from stair to stair,
That she might join the singers, and in their gladness share.

Dear, merry little warblers! I love to hear you, too;
Your fresh, unworldly feelings, your hearts so fond and true,
Give to your songs a sweetness that no other strains possess;
They soothe the harassed spirit when troubles thickly press,
And evoke the warm petition, "O GOD, OUR CHILDREN BLESS!"

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