After greetings all round had taken place, and the domestics also had welcomed their young masters home, the tea-table was set out; and George, who was generally on the look out for something good, saw to his great pleasure, a nice plum cake placed in the middle of the table. It was Mrs. Barrington’s desire to make her children happy. She did not approve of giving them luxuries at all times, because health is best promoted by plain food, but _at this time_, she thought she might innocently allow them a few indulgencies, as her circumstances in life were affluent, and she was not compelled to rob the poor, in order to afford her children the gratification. They were soon seated at the tea-table. Emma and the two little ones were permitted on this evening to join the group, in honour of the arrival of their brothers. They were two sweet cherub-looking children; the one three years old, had a very fair complexion, and glossy flaxen hair, which hung in curls on her little shoulders,――and such is the effect of habit, or imitation, that the moment she was placed at table, she put her little hands on it, closed her soft blue eyes, and was ready for the blessing her father was to ask; never was there a sweeter picture of innocent loveliness: the young folks had a great deal of merry chit-chat round the table; after the tea things were removed, the two younger children were sent to bed――Emma remained an hour longer.――Mamma then directed the servant to place the table nearer the fire, and to add fresh fuel to it――the green cloth was then thrown over the table, the newspapers were placed on it for papa, and sewing materials, and interesting books for the rest of the party. They were tolerably quiet, while papa was reading, only now and then George would forget that he was not in the woods at Abington, and Emma would whisper a few words in his ear, which would make him laugh out. Soon, however, Dr. Barrington went into his office, a very neat room, which adjoined the parlour. The children tenderly loved their father, yet they were not sorry to see him go away for a little while; the respect they likewise felt for him, did not produce restraint; but yet they were generally rather silent when he was present, because they could not bear to interrupt him. They knew his mind was almost always engaged with some important duty. He was a physician, and in truth, even the few hours he gave to domestic enjoyment, were not without their cares: when surrounded by an attractive circle, which his reputation had drawn around him, he was oftentimes compelled to think deeply: he was responsible for the lives of his fellow creatures, and was conscientious in the discharge of every duty to them. After he withdrew, their little tongues were all in motion. “Come, come, my children,” said Mrs. B., “it is my turn to be speaker now;” a cry of hush! hush! went round, and soon they were all mum. Mamma then addressed them, “I have been thinking, my