"I've often heard my gram 'mer tell

Of a peart young owl, as ael the day
In a nook ov the paason's barn did dwell,
In hidlock blinkin' the time away.

"But, zo zoon as ever the zun were zet,
A poachin' away like mad went he,
And once his desarvings he did get,

As aal o' you shall presently zee.

"A vlod vor miles auver hill and dale,

And a caddled the mice in many a vield;

For ael o' you as heers this tale

Do know as the weakest must allus yield.

"At last a hunted zo vur away

That the zun cum peeping auver the hills,
And the birds waked up and did un espy,

And wur ael in a churm az um whetted their bills.

"Gwo at un, my bwoys,' the missel-dresh cries;
'A vrightened my mate, and her eggs be nel addled';
And the yuckle did scraam, 'Let us peck out his eyes;
Zich a girt mouchin' wosbird deserves to be caddled.'
"Thany dreshed un long, and thaay dreshed un zore;

Thaay dreshed un and tar ael the dowl vrom his yead,
And thany vollured un whoam unto the barn dwoor,
And ther' thaay left un purty nigh dead.

MORAL.

"Now, ael you young men as loves ramblin' o' night,
Be plazed from this story to take timely warnin',
Vor ther' med be them as ud not thenk it right

If you chances to get auvertuk by the marnin'."

Any one who had thought of looking at the garden window during Moses's song would have been able to confirm the story of little Maggie on all points, except as to the size of the two faces which peered through the windowbars. They might easily have fancied that the fleshy embodiments of some two antagonist Christmas principles were watching the Ashen Fagot supper from without; 30 marked was the contrast between the merry, curious Icok of

the lighter, and the painful tension of muscles and hunger. ing anxiety of the darker face.

"Lawk! do 'ee look, Miss Mabel. Zhure as vate I zeed zummat at th' winder," whispered Goody Ockle, the carpenter's wife, to Miss Kendrick.

Well, we've had good

remem

Mabel glanced at the window a little nervously, and thought she detected figures disappearing; but her father had now risen to speak to his men, and she turned to listen. "You all know," he said, with his homely Wiltshire manner, which gave him such a hold over the people who lived round him, "you know well, after all these years we have lived side by side as good neighbors, how much I enjoy meeting you here at such times as this. For five and twenty years now we have met here, and had our merrymakings, our harvest-homes, and Ashen Fagot nights, through bad times and good times. times lately in field and fold, and I hope we 're all thankful for them, and laying by something against hard times, which will be sure to come back again, sooner or later, ber that. When they come, I hope we shall all pull together as we have done before; but there's nothing like being a little before the world. The only one of all those twentyfive Ashen Fagots which I have n't seen burnt with you was the last one. You all know why I was n't with you. It had pleased God to send me a very fearful trial last year, and I had n't the heart to come among you as usual. I know how pleased you will all be to hear that I have had good news to-day from the other side of the world, — good news of Master John." Here his voice faltered; and when the rough murmurs of sympathy had subsided a little, he changed the subject abruptly, and went on: "It has always been a source of great pride to me, and to our good vicar, whom we all love as an old friend, though he has only been with us four years or so," (the vicar, who had just entered, with Mrs. Kendrick on his arm, followed by his daughter,

was hailed by a burst of applause, and stool benevolently wondering through his spectacles what it could be all about,) "we are very proud to think how little drunkenness we have in this parish. I'm sure you'll all take a pride, and you particularly, boys," (the boys at the end of the table became specially attentive,) "in keeping up our good name. 'Merry and wise,' is our Avenly motto. You will be sure to go right if you will only mind your mothers and wives, whom I am always delighted to welcome here with you, and who, mind, ought always to be with you at such times. Mind, boys, and men too, there's no honest mirth where wives and daughters can't come. There's one more word, which, perhaps, would come better from the vicar than from me; but as he'll have his turn to-morrow in the pulpit, I may just touch upon his ground now. This Ashen Fagot' night, you know, is the night of peace and good-will of all the year. So, if any of you have had fallings-out with your neighbors, or in your families, now 's the time to set them all right. Don't let the last bond of the fagot burst before we have made all our hearts clean and whole with all men this Christmas eve. I see there's another bond just going to burst; so I shall only wish you all again a very merry Christmas."

The bond burst almost before Mr. Kendrick sat down, but not a soul in the room noticed it. Every eye was turned to the opposite side of the room. Her father's look as he spoke, and some of his words, had touched Mabel very deeply. She could scarcely keep from bursting into tears. The warmth of the great fagot and the smell of the smoke gave her a choking feeling, which she found it every moment more difficult to struggle against. So she had glided across to the opposite door, and, opening it a little, stood by it listening. Just as Mr. Kendrick finished, she stepped out for a breath of fresh air, to look at the pure moonlight, and recover herself, when she heard her name whispered close by. She

turned with a start, and the next moment found herself in the arms of a man. Altogether, the excitement of the day and the evening, with this last shock at the end of all, proved too much for her, and she fairly fainted away.

"Good God, Herbert! what am I to do? Here's Mabel fainting!"

"Why the deuce did you frighten her, then? Come, bring her in," and, so saying, Herbert pushed the door open. The astonishment of the company vented itself first in a sort of gasp; Mr. Kendrick turned sharply round, following the universal stare, and beheld one bearded stranger in front, standing on his kitchen floor, with a big stick in his hand, and his daughter in the arms of another just behind him. He sprang to his feet, as did all the other men, but not before Mrs. Kendrick had rushed across the kitchen, crying,

"Mabel, dearest, what is it? What have you done to my child?"

"Mother, dear mother! don't you know me?"

Johnny! O God, is it Johnny?" and now the mother was on his neck, sobbing hysterically; and the whole of the women thronged round them, and murmurs of "Master John!"""T is the young squire, zhure enough!" "6 Massy, how a be grawed," and such like, passed round the men.

"Had n't you better stand back, and give the young lady room to come round?" said Herbert.

Mr. Kendrick now pressed forward with blanched face through the crowd. The son could only stretch out his hand, with, "Dear father, you have forgiven me?"

John Kendrick the elder seized and grasped it twice, but could not speak. He was not the man to give way in public, but his bowels yearned to his son, and he fled away to his chamber to weep there.

Herbert was looking on, much moved, weighing within himself whether he could be of any use, when his eye caught

sight of the vicar, making horrible gulping faces, and wiping his spectacles. He looked anxiously at him for a moment, and then, springing across, seized his hand and began shaking it furiously.

"Why, Mr. Ward, Mr. Ward, don't you know me?"

"Eh, oh! what? no! Who are you?" replied the vicar, shaking away, however, with great good-will, and glad to find an outlet for his feelings.

"Why, Herbert Upton of course.

Who should I be?"

"What, Herbert! God bless me! No, it can't be. Yes, I see. My dear boy, what brings you here? Where have you been? Why have n't you written?"

"So I have, often, some years back."

"What, written? I've never had the letters."

" And Nelly?"

O, here she is, somewhere. Nelly, where are you? We often talk of you and old times."

And now there was like to be another catastrophe calling for salts and cold water, as Herbert and Nelly met again after six years' parting. He had left her a slip of a girl, and found her a fine young woman. She had last seen him a stripling of twenty, and he stood there now a greatbearded man.

Readers must picture to themselves the rest of the scene, how the troubled groups divided themselves again; how the Ashen Fagot revelry went on in the kitchen, every bond that had burst during the interruption receiving due posthumous honors; how the reputation of Avenly for strict sobriety was somewhat shaken that night, though nothing was said about it by squire or vicar; how, at the supper in the parlor, to which no one but Herbert and Dick did any justice, the story of Herbert's meeting with Johnny half-starved in the streets of Sydney, and taking him into his employment, of their defence of their wagon and beasts against bushrangers, of the lucky accident which enabled Herbert to come home,