and increased rapidly in
size, just as it says in the Bible that a grain of mustard-seed springs
to be so large a tree that the fowls of the air can roost upon it."

In his sixth year Charlie evinced poetic tendencies. We have in one of
his poems a description of his grandpapa, "a venerable old gentleman
with dark eyes, gray hair, noble features, and altogether very generous
aspect." Here is "a song appropriate to him:"

Oh, venerable is our old ancestor--
Cloud on his brow,
Lightning in his eyes,
His gray hair streaming in the wind.
To children ever kind,
To merit never blind,--
Oh, such is our old ancestor,
With hair that streameth wild.

At the head of this poem is a picture of the old ancestor, consisting of
a hat, a head, a walking-stick, one arm and two legs, one of
which--whether the right or left is doubtful, as their origin is
concealed by the aforesaid arm--is much longer than the other, and
walking in a contrary direction. The most wonderful feature of this
sketch is the "hair streaming in the wind," the distance from the poll
to the end of the flowing locks being longer than the longest leg.

We cannot conclude without an extract describing a "dreadful accident"
which happened to our youthful author; "perhaps," as he solemnly says,
"for a punishment of my sins, or to show me that Death stands ready at
the door to snatch my life away:" "One night papa had been conjuring a
penny, and I thought _I_ should like to conjure; so I took a round brass
thing with a verse out of the Bible upon it that I brought into bed with
me. I thought it went down papa's throat, so _I_ put it down _my_ throat,
and I was pretty near choked. I called my nurse, who was in the next
room. She fetched up papa, and then my nurse brought the basin. Papa
beat my back, and I was sick. _Lo! there was the counter!_ Papa said,
'Good God!' and my nurse fainted, but soon recovered. Don't you think
papa was very clever when he beat my back? Papa then had a long talk
afterward with me about it--a very serious one."

The above pathetic story is accurately illustrated, but we especially
regret that we cannot transfer to these pages some of the marvellous
delineations of the animals in the Clifton Zoological Garden.

M.S.D.

WANTED--A REAL GAINSBOROUGH.

I am an unmarried man of twenty-four. After that confession it is hardly
necessary to add that I am in the habit of thinking a great deal a