ED, AND REMARKED: "NOW YOU KNOW WHAT KIND OF
MEALS LITTLE BOYS LIKE, AUNT ALICE."]

"Only this--that when their own devices fail, they're in a hurry for
the consolations of religion," said Mr. Burton. "May I visit the
Sunday-school?"

"I suppose I can't keep you away," sighed Mrs. Burton, leading the way
to the parlor. "Boys," said she, greeting her nephews, "first, we'll
sing a little hymn; what shall it be?"

"Ole Uncle Ned," said Toddie, promptly.

"Oh, that's not a Sunday song," said Mrs. Burton.

"_I_ fink tizh," said Toddie, "'cause it sayzh, free or four timezh,
'He's gone where de good niggers go,' an' that's _hebben_, you know; so
it's a Sunday song."

"_I_ think 'Glory, glory, hallelujah!' is nicer," said Budge, "an' I
know _that's_ a Sunday song, 'cause I've heard it in church."

"Aw wight," said Toddie; and he immediately started the old air himself,
with the words, "There liezh the whisky-bottle, empty on the sheff," but
was suddenly brought to order by a shake from his aunt, while his uncle
danced about the front parlor in an ecstasy not directly traceable to
toothache.

"That's not a Sunday song either, Toddie," said Mrs. Burton. "The words
are real rowdyish. Where did you learn them?"

"Round the corner from our housh," said Toddie, "an' you can shing your
ole shongs yourseff, if you don't like mine."

Mrs. Burton went to the piano, rambled among chords for a few seconds,
and finally recalled a Sunday-school air in which Toddie joined as
angelically as if his own musical taste had never been impugned.

"Now I guess we'd better take up the collection before any little boys
lose their pennies," said Budge, hurrying to the dining-room, and
returning with a strawberry-box which seemed to have been specially
provided for the occasion; this he passed gravely before Toddie, and
Toddie held his hand over it as carefully as if he were depositing
hundreds, and then Toddie took the box and passed it before Budge, who
made the same dumb show, after which Budge retook the box, shook it,
listened, and remarked, "It don't rattle--I guess it's all paper-money,
to-day," placed it upon the mantel, reseated himself, and remarked:

"_Now_ bring on your lesson."

Mrs. Burton opened her Bible with a sense of utter helplessness. With
the natural instinct of a person given to thoroughness, she opened at
the beginning of the book, but she speedily closed it again--the first
chapter of Genesis had suggested many a