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58 Little Rosie. Rosie, my posy, You’re weary, you're dozy; Sit upon grandmamma's knee. Songs will I sing you, Sweet sleep to bring you; Cuddle up cozy with me. I will sing ditties Os birds and of kitties — The “ Song of the Well,” to begin : How young Johnnie Stout Pulled pussy-cat out When Johnnie Green let her fall in ; Os timid Miss Mufiit, Who fled from the tuffit, Os Bobby, who sailed on the sea; Os Jack and his Gill; Os the mouse at the mill, And baby that rocked on the tree. Rosie, my Rosie, As sweet as a posy— Ah ! now she is coming, I see, Sleepy and dozy, To cuddle up cozy, And hush-a-by-baby with me, The Nursery. Written for Burke’s Weekly. MAROONER’S ISLAND ; OR, Dr. Gordon in Search of His Children. BY REY. P. R. GOULDING, Author of “ The Young Marooners.” CHAPTER VI. — Concluded. RITE lively conversation with which the voyage of that morning had been commenced, and which Dr. Gordon and Tomkins permitted but encouraged, is of policy, began to flag irse of an hour ; and Dr. yho was ever on the alert for opportunities to make the time of the men pass pleasantly and usefully, pro posed that they should relieve the tedium of the voyage, and at the same time in crease their mutual acquaintance, by each giving to the company so much of his private history as he felt perfectly will ing to do. “We always feel a deeper interest in those we know, than in those we do not know,” said he. “ Indeed, an intimate knowledge makes us feel sometimes al most akin.” In making this remark he observed an expression of pleasure and at the same time of uneasiness overspread the coun tenances of most of his auditors, and di vining the reason, he continued— “ln the history of all persons there are portions which they prefer to keep to themselves. But there is much besides of common interest, especially that which contains useful information, showing how to help one’s self or to help others in a time of need. No doubt every one pres ent sees much in his own life which inte rests himself; and he may set down as a BURKE’S WEEKLY. Lrood general rule that whatever interests himself will interest others also.” This piece of philosophy brought a smile to the faces of most of the men.— They evidently assented to its truth, and no doubt they reflected that, coming to gether as they did from such distant re gions of the world, and having had such different experiences in life, there would bo some rare scenes presented in the ac counts to be given. “I do not, by any means, insist upon it,” he continued. “I only propose it. Suppose, now, that as we quietly sail, you all talk over the matter among your selves, and let me know the result when you are ready. “I am ready with my say, now,” said the sombre-hued Simpson. “And what is that?” inquired the Doc tor. “That I never had any cddication,” he replied. “And though I am willing to tell of what I have seen and hcern, I have never seen or lieern anything that I think anybody would care to hear about.” “I think you speak of yourself more disparagingly than you have a right to do,” said Dr. Gordon. “Will you allow me to ask you a question or two ?” “Yes, sir, to be sure,” was the answer. “ Well, where were you born and raised?” “I was horned on Kiokee creek, in Col umby county, Georgy,” Simpson answer ed, “and I lived when a boy at Wolfskin, not far from the Cherokee Corner; but as for raisin’ I wasn’t raised anywhar; I jest growed up so.” “And who were your parents?” Dr. Gordon inquired. “My father was a preacher,” Simpson responded. “And as for my mother, al though she was an oncommon fine lookin’ ooman, nobody ever knowed her name, for she was stole from home when she was a baby, and she lived among the Injins till she was about sixteen year old, when my father found her thar and mar ried her.” “Really, I feel interested in your story, already,” said Dr. Gordon. “But allow me to ask a question or two more. You say your father was a preacher; of what denomination was he ?” At this question Simpson stared, not being able to understand what the word “denomination” meant. So his questioner enlightened him by asking “What was his church ?” to which Simpson replied, “Oh !he was a Baptist—an Old-Side— a Primity—(Primitive)—a Hard Shell— a Two-Seed." The listeners could scarcely avoid a smile, for although the very large and re spectable denomination designated by the general title was of course known to all it was evident that the load of titles just given was intended to point out and dm nify some very small concern. Tomkins looked for an explanation to Dr. Gordon who replied in a subdued voice, saying “The Hard-shells, as they are called in burlesque, or the Old Sides, or Primitives, as they call themselves, are that part of the great Baptist family celebrated in Georgia for their opposition to Sunday, schools, missions to the heathen, Theo logical Seminaries, and religious educa tion generally, for which sake they refuse fellowship with the modernized and more active brethren of the church at large.— They occupy a very large part of our pincy woods, and other dark corners of the State. The Two-Seed Baptists, of whom I believe there are few—at least 1 have never met more than two or three of them—are the extreme wing of this party, and are remarkable for nothing except for certain bigoted notions, the result of ignorance, concerning the “tm seeds" between which they suppose the whole family of mankind to be divided— the good seed and the bad.”* With this explanation, Tomkins looked towards Simpson with a compassion which he could not otherwise have felt, for he perceived that many of the poor fellow’s faults must have been, to a great extent, the result of the influences under which his early days had been spent. This was soon made manifest by the question next addressed to him. “You remarked at the outset that you had no education,” said Dr. Gordon, “ho you mean to say by this that you never went to school at all, and that your pa rents did nothing to instruct you ?” “Well, now, you see,” he replied, “the only cddication my mother had for her self Avas what she got in an Injin’s lodge, and as for my father, I believe he only knowed enough to spell out his text in the bible when he went to preach, and to line out the hymes for singing. The only school in my neighborhood, when I was a boy, was kept by an Englishman named Gunter. He teached about half of one winter, and I went to him and larnt line ly, he said, as far as b-a-g, bag, c-a-g, cag. But he drunk pretty hard, and did more whipping than teaching, and so we all quit his school. 1 remember that, of cold days, when our fire-wood was scare, lie used to make us join hands in a ring and run around, and he would follow us up with a switch, and laugh and holla, and hurry us around with the awfullest sort *Bet it be remembered that the above dark picture dates from the year 1831 —backward.