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386 before they had thought of starting. He never thought they would be so late never! He expected they would come by eight o’clock, by nine at farthest, and now it only wanted a quarter to eleven. All at once, he thought, suppose they do not come at all! It was a miserable thought. He climbed upon a low bough of an oak and looked out over the whole extent of “ the big field,” but saw nothing of them. He jumped down from the tree and ran along to the end of the foot-path. At the end of the foot-path was a gate, which opened into a shady lane, down which Dick and his ymung friends ought to have come. Harry climbed on the bottom bar, and as the gate was a tall one, his chin just rested on the top bar, and there he stood, with great blinding tears in his eyes, staring up the empty lane. They had forgotten him —they had forgotten their promise—they cared for nothing but amusing themselves! He shut his eyes to keep back the tears for awhile, and then, fairly overcome, stepped down from the gate, threw himself on the grass and wept bitterly. If he had not been crying, and if he had not been so miserable, and if he had only stayed a little longer looking over the gate, he would have seen Dick Tattersall car rying the sturdy little Joshua on his back, and Nancy with a sheaf of Timothy-grass in one hand, on every bent of which were at least four-and-twenty wild straw berries, like great coral beads; and in the other a little basket as full as ever it would hold, and covered with a cloth ; and Peggy Ford, with something in her hand that looked very much like a big basin tied up in a buff handkerchief. And down the lane they were trudging as fast as they could come, chattering as they came along. Having heard them just be fore they reached the gate, he jumped up all at once and rushed forward. There they w T ere, all four of them! I wish I had room to tell you how they spent the day, but I have not. You should get the book and read it for your self, for besides the balance of the story of little Harry Twiggs, it contains many other beautiful things for children. Little Things. Springs are little things, but they are sources of large streams ; a helm is a lit tle thing, but it governs the course of a ship; a bridle-bit is a little thing, but see its use and powers; nails and pegs are little things, but they hold the parts of a large building together; a word, a look, a smile, a frown, are all little things, but powerful for good or evil. Think of this, and mind the little things. BXJRKE’S WEEKLY. Good Night. ®OOD night, little star, From my little low bed I see you are shining Bright over my head. Are y°n the bright star That once led the wise men To the babe in the manger At Bethlehem 1 And will you, good star,' Lead one little as I To the blessed Lord Jesus Up in the sky ? Oh 1 I haven’t got leave From my own dear Ma To go with you just now, Dear little star. But will you not please, Please to carry my prayer To the blessed Lord Jesus Up in the air. And you will fetch back His kind blessing to mo. Good night, little star 1 I don’t you see. Written for Burke’s Weekly, MAROONER’S ISLAND; OR, Dr. Gordon in Search of his Children. BY REY. F. R. GOULDING, Author of the " l Young Marooners .” CHAPTER XXYll.— Continued. SIGNS OF A DISTANT STEAMBOAT NEGRO SONGS —GETTING ABOARD —LETTERS AND PLANS —MRS. GORDON. T the predicted time, a volume of black smoke, far up the lake grfJlp iflai like river, began to roll filuL over the gigantic cy- WjJ presses and rich-looking magnolias, announcing that the expected vw steamboat would soon be in sight, and this was followed in the course of time by a noisy clack! clack! of ma chinery, and by a roar, as of water dis turbed; for the operations steam of that day were far less quiet than they are now. The gentlemanly planter, at whose house Dr. Gordon had spent his day of delightful rest, and who had placed at his disposal a handsome plantation boat, man ned by four lusty negroes, was so loth, when the time came, to part with his guest that he made some excuse for ac companying him to the steamboat. No sooner were they fairly underway than a significant “Ah-oo!” was heard from one of the oarsmen, who, without further preliminary or permission, started a low, plaintive melody, in which the others united, swelling it louder and loud er until it might have been heard to the distance of a mile. Not much could be said in praise of either the poetry or mu sic, but the voices were rich and well toned, and the performers seemed greatlv to enjoy their own performance. Ne groes are proverbially fond of music, and never are they more inclined to indulge in it than when upon the water. Their songs, always simple in language and ut terance, are then marked by a peculiar expression of sound which cannot be bet ter described than by calling it water-mu sic. A boat song can always be recogni zed, and it is seldom, if ever, heard on land. Negroes are capital time-keepers, and the effect of their songs while tug ging at the oar is to impart such regular ity and force to the stroke that it is usual ly good economy to encourage their sing ing. The boat glided swiftly over the glassy surface. There was ever a hissing ripple at the bows, and a tiny jet, raised by the cutwater, gracefully projected it self a few inches beyond. On nearing the steamboat, Somassee, who was in company, received his last instructions, together with a note to the commandant at Fort Brooke; the planter and his guest bade each other adieu with mutual regret; the teeth of the negroes shone with pleasure at the sight of sundry little silver coins that were chinking in their hands ; the steamboat glided noise lessly up, propelled by its own momentum for the last quarter of a mile, the revolu tion of the paddle wheels having been ar rested on a signal from the planter; a rope ladder was lowered from its side, up which the new passenger ascended to the deck, followed by his baggage; the tinkle of a little bell, touched by the captain, set in motion the paddle wheels, which re newed their deep digging into the water, and the obedient boat was once more ploughing her foamy way towards Jack sonville, the ocean, and Charleston. At that day it was customary for the w T eak steam craft engaged in our coast trade, to avoid the dangers of the ocean by seeking the smooth water lying Be tween the main and the almost continu ous chain of islands extending along the Atlantic shore from Florida to Maryland. On this occasion, however, the weathei was so calm, and the ocean so smooth, that the adventurous captain pushed bold ly to sea, instead of following the crook ed creeks and the narrow cuts of the in side passage, and being thus delayed b) nothing more than the necessary stopping at the several sea-ports, St. Marys, Damn and Savannah, ho was enabled to make the trip in the almost unparalleled space of two and a half days. Early in the voyage, Dr. Gordon P cn ned a letter to his sister in Montgomery Alabama, —Mrs. Mclntosh, mother of his nephew Harold, who had been a pai takci