"Where they laid him as was very good to me, very good to me indeed he was. It's time for me to go down to that there burying-ground, sir, and ask to be put along of him. I wants to go there and be buried. Will you promise to have me took there and laid along with him?" "I will indeed." "Thankee, sir. There's a step there as I used to sweep with my broom. It's turned very dark, sir, is there any light coming?" "It's coming fast, Jo." Then silence for a while. "Jo, my poor fellow----!" "I can hear you, sir, in the dark." "Jo, can you say what I say?" "I'll say anything you say, sir, for I knows it's good." "Our Father." "Our Father--yes, that's very good, sir." "Which art in Heaven." "Art in Heaven. Is the light a-coming, sir?" "It's close at hand. Hallowed be Thy name." "Hallowed be Thy"-- The light had come. Oh yes! the light had come, for Jo was dead. THE LITTLE KENWIGS. Mrs. Kenwigs was the wife of an ivory turner, and though they only had a very humble home of two rooms in a dingy-looking house in a small street, they had great pretensions to being "genteel." The little Miss Kenwigs had their flaxen hair plaited into pig-tails and tied with blue ribbons, and wore little white trousers with frills round their ankles, the highest fashion of that day; besides being dressed with such elegance, the two eldest girls went twice a week to a dancing school. Mrs. Kenwigs, too, had an uncle who collected the water rate, and she was therefore considered a person of great distinction, with quite the manners of a lady. On the eighth anniversary of their wedding day, Mr. and Mrs. Kenwigs invited a party of friends to supper to celebrate the occasion. The four eldest children were to be allowed to sit up to supper, and the uncle, Mr. Lillyvick, had promised to come. The baby was put to bed in a little room lent by one of the lady guests, and a little girl hired to watch him. All the company had assembled when a ring was heard, and Morleena, whose name had been _invented by Mrs. Kenwigs_ specially for her, ran down to open the door and lead in her distinguished great-uncle, then the supper was brought in. The table was cleared; Mr. Lillyvick established in the arm-chair by the fireside; the four little girls arranged on a small form in front of the company with their flaxen tails towards them; Mrs. Kenwigs was suddenly dissolved in tears and sobbed out-- "They are so beautiful!" "Oh, dear," said all the ladies, "so they are; it's very natural you should feel proud of that; but don't give way, don't." "I can--not help it, and it don't signify," sobbed Mrs. Kenwigs: "oh! they're too beautiful to live, much too beautiful." On hearing this dismal prophecy, all four little girls screamed until their light flaxen tails vibrated again, and rushed to bury their heads in their mother's lap.