all by themselves.

"Only imagine," continued Sallie, "perhaps, after this, we shall be considit such excellent children—kind of oldey and serious, you know—that mamma will pack up our trunks, and let us go eleventeen times farther than this. How perfectly delightful! to go in every direction at once, and rush all round the world like the comic papa told me of the other day;" and Sallie became so excited with this brilliant prospect that she jumped up and down, and gave a little scream of joy.

"What's all that noise?" said a queer, discordant voice at the farther end of the saloon.

The children started, and looked back a little frightened; their charming castles in the air put to flight, "like the baseless fabric of a vision," by the rough question which they thought had been aimed at them.

"Walk in, ladies! take a seat! What will you have? Shut up! G-o-o-d morning!"

The words sounded as if they had been rubbed through a nutmeg grater.

"Take a piece of pie? don't forget to pay for it! Shut up! Call again! I'm all right! Hurra!" And the parrot—for it was a large and handsome parrot—hopped upon a chair, from the floor where he had been strutting about, and looked at the company with eyes as sharp as a carving-knife.

Fanny and Sallie, by this time, had found out that it was a bird that was talking to them, and not cross old Mr. Grumpy, as they had at first supposed, who, always being in an ill humor himself, never could bear to see any one looking happy. They walked up to where the bird was, and stood there lost in admiration at his accomplishments; and really he was a very wonderful bird, and sometimes talked as if he understood what he was saying, which, between you and me, is what some birds, boobies for instance, cannot do.

While they were standing there as still as could be expected, for they had to give a little skip now and then, under such remarkable circumstances, a nurse came up with a very beautiful baby in her arms, and two young gentlemen also drew near to listen to the parrot. As soon as Poll saw the baby, he yelled out: "Sweet little baby! sweet little baby! G-o-o-d morning, little baby! Is it a girl?"

The nurse, who was a very silly-looking goose of a girl, turned very red at this question, and, dropping a courtesy to Poll, simpered out: "No, sir; if yez plaze, sir, it's a boy, sir!" A roar of laughter from all around followed this answer, and the poor girl looked as if she thought the parrot was a police officer, in a bright-green great coat, who meant to put her instantly to death for daring to answer him. She concluded she had better run for her life, which she accordingly did, stumbling against all the tables, and breaking her toes over every chair; but she disappeared at last, the parrot shrieking most horribly after her, and all the people laughing till their sides ached.

With many a lingering, admiring glance at their funny new friend, the children at last left the enchanting saloon, and hastened home to tell of all the wonderful things they had seen and heard; both talking, exclaiming, and laughing at once, until it would have taken at least six mammas to have heard it all.

When Sallie's father came home, of course he had to hear how they went out, "just like two old women, very independent, and eat a poll parrot and heard an ice cream," at which he was greatly astonished until they explained that it was the ice cream they had eaten, and the poll parrot they had heard.

Soon after tea, Fanny was sent for, and after many attempts, her bonnet and pretty little white Marseilles cloak were fastened, for she jumped, and Sallie jumped during the operation, till you would have thought they were pith witches, only they fortunately kept on their feet; afterward they kissed each other jumping, and the kisses lighted on the very ends of their noses, and Sallie ran to the corner with her, and bade her good-by, and ran back to her mother, who was standing at the door, and ran into the parlor and all round it with such a hop-skip-and-jump, that her mother thought the mayor of the city, if he only could see her, would be wanting to hire her for a lamplighter.

At last the time came for Sallie to go to bed, and she was undressed with plenty more laughing and jumping, but her dear little face grew sober and sweetly serious when she said her prayers, and in this her mother was very particular: not a word was mispronounced; and every syllable was distinctly repeated until the little girl knew them all correctly, and what was more, understood them, and it was a beautiful sight to see the little one's clasped hands and innocent face when she asked God to bless all her relatives and friends, and make her a good child.

Sallie's mother, that evening, seemed to want a great many things out of the nursery; she was continually coming in with a light, and looking for her pocket handkerchief, or thimble, or a book.

At last Sallie grew quite impatient at these disturbances; she sat up straight in her little crib, and in a plaintive tone, said, "Dear mamma, why do you come in so often with a light? you invaluably wake me up when you do."

Her mother rushed out of the room, light and all, to have a laugh over the long word "invariably," which her little Sallie had heard somewhere, and altered so comically, then returning, she kissed the little rosy cheek, and said she really would not disturb her again if she wanted anything ever so much; and with a kiss on the other cheek, as Sallie said, to make it "valance," she bade her good night.

THE NEW LITTLE FRIEND.

"Oh! here is something from Aunt Fanny, which looks extremely interesting," said the little mother one evening.

"Read it, do, please!" cried the children with sparkling eyes. "We will work at our mittens harder than ever, for anything so very nice."

So the kind mother began as follows:

My dear Children—

I must tell you what happened to me this morning—not for the first time, to be sure; but as it always makes me just as happy, I might as well call them all "first times."

I was very busy writing a ridiculous story for you about the Honorable Mr. Kite, when a barouche full of ladies drove up to the door. As I was sitting at the window, I could see them getting out. With them was a lovely little girl.

"Oh!" said I to Sarah, my daughter, "what a darling little child is coming here! I never saw her or the ladies before, and I am afraid they have stopped at the wrong house."

But the front door bell rang, and a moment after the servant handed me two cards. One was quite large and almost square. It had the name of a lady upon it. The other was such a dear little card that I must give you the exact pattern. Here it is—