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198 her pets. She grew up a universal favorite. The kindness of heart that prompted her to gain the affections of reptiles, led her to gain the affection of all with whom she was associated. She is now the step-mother of little Johnie, the hero of ‘‘The New Saddle” —a story published in the second volume of Burke’s Weekly. May the Lord’s blessings rest upon her through life ! Mrs. S. E. Peck. Resolution, SF you’ve any task to do, Let mo whisper, friend, to you, Bo it. True and needed, yea or nay, GX Say it. If you’ve anything to love. Asa blessing from above. Love it. If you’ve anything to give, That another’s joy may live, Give it, If some hollow creed you doubt, Though the world may hoot and shout, Doubt it. If you know what torch to light, Guiding others through the night, Light it, If you’ve any debt to pay, Iloat you noifciior night nor day, Pay it.! If you’ve anvjoy to ho'd \ Hold it. If you’ve any grief to meet. At the Loving Father’s feet. Meet it. If you’re given light to see, What a child of God should be, See it. Whether life be bright or dear, There is a message sweet and clear, Whisper down to every ear Hear it. *.»•>« THE ONE-EYED SERVANT, A STORY TOLD TO A CHILD. 0 you see those two pretty ' cottages on opposite sides of the common? How bright their windows are, and how pretty the vines trail over them ! A year ago one of them was the dirtiest and most foi lorn-looking place you can imagine, and its mistress the most untidy wo- man. She was once sitting at her cottage door, with her arms folded, as if she were deep in thought, though to look at her face one would not have sup posed she was doing more than idly watching the swallows as they floated about in the hot, clear air. Her gown was torn and shabby, her shoes down at the heels 5 the little curtain in her casement, which had once been fresh and white, had a great rent in it; and BURKE’S WEEKLY FOR BOYS AND GIRLS. altogether she looked poor and forlorn. She sat some time, gazing across the common, when all of a sudden she heard a little noise, like stitching, near the ground. She looked down, and, sitting on the border, under a wall flower bush, she saw the funniest little man possible, with a blue coat, a yellow waistcoat, and red boots; he had a small shoe on his lap, and he was stitching away at it with all his might. “ Good morning, mistress,” said the little man. “Avery fine day. Why may you be looking so earnestly across the common ? ” “I was looking at my neighbor’s cot tage,” said the young woman. “What! Tom the gardener’s wife? Little Polly she used to be called. And a very pretty cottage it is, too 1 Looks thriving, doesn’t it?” “She was always lucky,” said Bella (for that was the young wife’s name) ; “and her husband is always good to her.” “They were both good husbands at first,” interrupted the little cobbler, without stopping. “ Reach me my awl, mistress, will you, for you seem to have nothing to and lies close by your foot. ’ ’ “Well, I can’t say but they were both very good husbands at first,” re plied Bella, reaching the awl with a sigh; “but mine has changed for the worse, and hers for the better; and then, look how she thrives. Only to u.JLi-ieu on the same day ; and now I have nothing, and she has two pigs and a—” 41 a lot of flax that she spun in the winter,” interrupted the cobbler; “and a Sunday gown, as good green stuff as ever was seen, and, to my know ledge, a handsome silk handkeichief for an apron ; and a red waistcoat for her goodman, with three row3 of blue glass buttons; and a flitch of bacon in the chimney, and a rope of onions.” “Oh, she’s a lucky woman!” ex claimed Bella. “Aye, and a tea-tray, with Daniel in the lions’ den upon it,” continued the cobbler; “and a fat baby in the cradle.” “ Oh, I’m sure I don’t envy her the least,” said Bella, pettishly. “I’ve little enough for myself and my hus band, letting alone children.” “Why, mistress, isn’t your husband in work?” asked the cobbler. “ No, he’s at the ale-house.” “Well, how is that? he used to be very sober ; can’t be get work ? “ His last master wouldn’t keep him because he was so shabby. “Humph!” said the little man. “He’s a isn t he? ell, as 1 was saying, your neighbor opposite thrives wonderfully; but no wonder! Well, I’ve nothing to do with other people’s secrets; but I could tell you, only I’m busy and must go.” “Could tell me ivhatl ” cried the young wife. “ Oh! good cobbler, don t go, for I’ve nothing to do. Pray tell me why it’s no wonder that she should thrive ? ” “Well,” said he, “it’s no business of mine, you know; but, as I said be fore, it’s no wonder people thrive who have a servant —a hard-working one, too—who is always helping them.” “A servant!” repeated Bella, “my neighbor has a servant! No wonder, then, everything looks so neat about her; but I never saw the servant. I think you must be mistaken ; besides, how could she afford to pay her wages ? ” “She has a servant, I say,” repeat ed the cobbler, “ a one-eyed servant; but she pays her no wages, to my cer tain knowledge. Well, good morning, mistress, I must go.” “ Do stop one minute,” cried Bella, urgently ; “ where did she get this ser vant?” “Oh, I don’t know,” said the cob bler; “servants are plentiful enough; and Polly uses hers well, I can tell you.” “ And what does she do for her? ” “Do for her? Why, all sorts of things. I think she’s the cause of her prosperity. To my knowledge, she never refuses to do anything—keeps Tom’s and Polly’s clothes in beautiful order, and the baby’s.” “ Dear me! ” said Bella, in an envi ous tone, and holding up both her hands; “well, she -*.<? a lucky woman.. ana 1 always said so. She takes good care I shall never see her servant. What sort of a servant is she? and how came she to have only one eye ? “It runs in her family,” replied the cobbler, stitching busily ; “ they are all so —one eye apiece ; yet they make a very good use of it; and Polly s ser vant has four cousins who are blind stone blind —no eyes at all, and they sometimes come and help her. I’ve seen them in the cottage myself; and that’s how Polly get’s a good deal of her money. They work for her; and she takes what they make to market, and buys all those handsome things.” 44 Only think,” said Bella, almost ready to cry with vexation, “and I've not got a soul to do anything for me ; how hard it is! ” and she took up her apron to wipe away her tears. The cobbler looked attentively at her. “Well, ye are to be pitied, certain ly,” he said; “and if I were not in such a hurry —” “ Oh, do go on, pray—were you go ing to say you could help me? I have heard your people are fond of curds and whey, and fresh gooseberry sylla bub. Now, if you would help me, trust me that there should be the most beautiful curds and whey set every night for you on the hearth, and no bo°dy should ever look while you went and came.” “Why, you see,” said the cobbler, , hesitating, “my people are extremely particular about —in short, about clean liness, mistress: and your house is not what one would call very clean. No offence, I hope.” Bella blushed deeply. “Well, but it should be always clean if you would —every day of my life I would wash the floor, and sand it, and the hearth should be white as snow, and the win dows cleaned.” “Well,” said the cobbler, seeming to consider; “well then, I should not wonder if I could meet with a one-eyed servant for you, like your neighbor’s; but it may be several days before I can: and mind, mistress, I’m to have a dish of curds.” “Yes, and some whipped cream, too,” replied Bella, full of joy. The cobbler then took up his tools, wrapped them in his leather apron, walked behind the wallflower, and dis appeared. Bella was so delighted she could not sleep that night for joy. Her husband scarcely knew the house, she had made it so bright and clean ; and by night she had washed the curtain, cleansed the window, rubbed the fire-irons, sand ed the floor, and set a great jug of haw thorn in blossom on the hearth. The next morning, Bella kept a sharp look-out for the tiny cobbler, and on her neighbor’s house to see whether she could possibly catch a glimpse of the oae-eyed servant. But no nothing ei gh bo^sittu^ in her rocking-chair, with'" her knee, working. At last, when she was quite heard the voice of the cobbler, outside. She ran to the door, and cried out: “ Oh, do pray come in, sir, only look at my house.” “Really,” said the cobbler, looking around, “ I declare I should hardly have known it; the sun can shine brightly now through the clear glass; and what a sweet smell of hawthorn ! ” “Well, and my one-eyed servant?” asked Bella ; “ you remember, I hope, that I can’t pay her any wages; have you met with one that will come ? ” 44 All’s right,” replied the little man, nodding ; “ I’ve got her with me.’ 44 Got her with you! ” repeated Bel la, looking round ; “ I see nobody.” “ Look, here she is! ” said the cob bler, holding up something in his hand. Would you believe it? The one-eyed servant was uothing but a needle 1 yean Ingclo'w. True Philosophy. A mourner, bending over the tomb in tears, cried, “ Oh, my brother ! ” A wise man asked, “ For whom dost thou mourn?” “For one whom I did not sufficiently love whilst living.” “ W hat wouldst thou do if he were restored to thee?” “I would never offend him by any unkind word.” “ Then go and cherish the living, remembering that they will die one day also.”