disappeared, when Captain Porter took him by the hand and introduced him to the little mother.

"How do?" said he, and shook hands with her; then he took up Captain Porter's sword and belt and buckled it round his waist, and said, "Ver good sword, indeed;" then he tried on the Captain's naval uniform cap, with the gold band round it, and ran and looked in the glass. It would not go on very well, on account of Tommy's pig-tail, which was fastened in a knot on the very top of his half-shaven pate, and which stuck up rather inconveniently: then the Captain said, "Tommy, this lady wants to see the portrait of your little Washington sweetheart; come, show it to her."

"No show," said Tommy; which answer made the little mother esteem him very much, because it was plain that he had too much self-respect, and too much respect for the young lady, if she was a little girl only twelve years old, to show her likeness to every stranger. He was not going to be made fun of. Not he!

Presently the little mother got up to go; and, shaking hands with Tommy, said, "Good-bye Tommy; I mean to send you a 'Nightcap' book. It is written by 'Aunt Fanny.' Say, Aunt Fanny."

"Arnta Farnny. Yes! I like it," answered Tommy, holding the little mother's hand; "but you," he continued, "I like you; are you Spaniss?"

"No," said she.

"You Frence?"

"No," said she, smiling.

"You Angliss?"

"No," said she.

"Why, Tommy, she is an American," said Captain Porter.

"Ah," cried Tommy; "she so leetle—she ver good—good-bye:" then he wrote his name on a card for her, and she went home very much pleased. But just before she went, Captain Porter told her that the great phrenologist, Mr. Fowler, who knows all about you by merely looking at the outside of your head, had been to see Tommy, and had told him that he had the most tremendous bumps for reading, writing, and arithmetic, that ever were seen; a great bump of trying on American clothes; making love to little girls; eating sugar-candy, and having a good time generally; and scarcely any bump at all for getting up early in the morning, working hard, or taking medicine; in fact, that his cranium was as full as the Metropolitan Hotel, of all sorts of good things; which flattering description delighted Tommy so much, that he wrote Mr. Fowler of his own accord, and without any assistance from Captain Porter or any other dictionary, the following note of thanks:

And now every thing was made in the way of "anti-tear-clothes," as the children called them, and the express wagon was sent for on the afternoon of the 19th of June to carry the baggage down to the steamboat.

The express man stared with amazement at the quantity of children whisking and frisking, and rushing and brushing about in the hall; and, still more, at the trunks, boxes, and bundles, that were brought clattering and tumbling down the stairs for him to take away.

Just before he was leaving with the last bundle, little Johnny rushed breathless down the stairs with what looked like a horse's tail, only shorter and smaller, in one hand, and an old tin-box that had once contained preserved tomatoes in the other, and screamed out, "Here!—say! man, man! take this! here, take it! It's mamma's hair! she's forgotten to sew it on her head! here, pack it up in this tin-box, and tie it with a rope, and put it on board the steamboat—will you?"

Dear me! how the poor express man did bite his lips and swell his cheeks, and turn very red, and try not to laugh: but it would come out, and he laughed himself nearly into fits, while the little mother felt for a moment as if she could have shaken Johnny into fits, but only for a moment; for, after all, what was the use of being angry: he meant to be so useful and thoughtful, and if her hair was so thin, she had to buy some to put with it—why, it was nothing to be ashamed of; so she laughed, too, at last, and all the children joined in with such good-will, that the canary bird over the way hearing such a pleasant noise, set up his pipes and twittered in company, and sang so shrill and loud, that all his feathers stood out on end; and, on the whole, it was thought a very good joke.

And now a great hotel carriage, which is about three times as large as any other, drove up, and the children were packed in it, till it was as full as an egg; and they gave three cheers, as it started, to the astonishment of all the neighbors, and sang "John Brown had a little Indian" all the way down to the boat.

There had been so many berths engaged for one name, that the Captain thought there must be a colony going out west to set up a town for themselves. But when he saw the family marching down the gang-plank two-and-two, like the animals that went into the ark, from the biggest to the smallest, he lifted up his hands and exclaimed, "Dew tell! what an orful lot of children! I shud think that old lady'd want the patience of Job, any how!"

Ah! the Yankee-talking Captain didn't know what you and I know—that these children all "loved one another" and that made every thing easy to the little mother.

There was no wrangling in that family. They left all that to "dogs and cats," and "bears and lions," as I am sure all good children do. There was plenty of noise, to be sure; but this the great power of love changed into sweet melody, so that, instead of irritating you, as a rude blustering wind would do, it charmed and delighted, because it was first passed over the Æolian harp-strings of love.

And now, before I forget it, let's have a little laugh you and I, over that ridiculous picture of our "Nightcap children" in "Baby Nightcaps." I intended to have had a picture of the little mother surrounded by lots of pretty children playing about her; but, instead of that, I was presented with a family that made my sides ache with laughter. Such noses and such hats! I want to tip that tall-spook-of-a-boy's hat off his head every time I look at it; And such a baby! Apple-dumpling face and squint eyes! Never mind! The funny printer wanted to make us laugh, and I am sure he did—one of us, any way; but don't you believe, for a moment, that our Nightcap children looked the least like his. Not a bit of it!

When the family were all comfortably settled, the splendid palace-like steamboat—the Alida—started from the pier, and was soon gliding so swiftly over the water, that the magnificent Palisades rose in the blue evening air, while the golden glory of sunset was still lingering upon them. Charley sat by his mother, with his curly head pressed close against her breast; his pure and simple thoughts mirrored in his sweet face. He was silently thanking God for the beautiful changing picture before his eyes. All