master, who commanded her to make a fire, and get his breakfast for him. Margaret was remarkably quick and handy for a child of her age, as her affection to her mother and grandfather had prompted her to do many little things for them which so young a girl seldom thinks of; but her delicate white fingers were unused to menial tasks, and to make a fire was quite beyond the circle of her accomplishments. Jackson then called upon his son to do it, but told her that he should not make it a second time, and grumbled and swore at her while he remained in the house. It is astonishing how human nature can adapt itself to circumstances, so that the thing which we must do we can do: little Margaret, who had ever been so tenderly nurtured, soon learned to make the fire, to sweep the rooms, and cook the meals. Not in the most scientific manner, truly; her cookery would scarcely have been approved by Kitchener, Glass, or Soyer, but it was done to the best of her slender ability. While poor Mrs. Jackson lived, Maggie had at least the satisfaction of feeling that her efforts to please her were understood: the grateful look, the languid smile, and the half-expressed pity for the little slave, who was now to fill her place, reminded the child of her mother, and made her more contented with her situation. But when, exhausted by the life of hardship and cruelty which the drunkard's wife must ever experience, Mrs. Jackson slept her last sleep, and went to the home appointed for all the living, "where the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest," then the little girl had none to feel for her. In a few days, the boy, Bill Jackson, told her that now his mother was dead, he wasn't such a fool as to stay there to be kicked and starved by his father; he intended to run off and go to sea, and he advised her too "to make herself scarce" as soon as she could. When he had gone, all the brutality which had been divided between the mother and son, was now visited on the innocent head of little Maggie; and unassisted even by counsel, she had to perform all the household tasks. If she had received kind words in payment, she could have overlooked many of the hardships of her condition; but these she never got. Let her be as diligent and pains taking as she would, severity and reproaches were all she met: Jackson was always sullen and morose in the morning, and at night, frequent potations from a large stone jug worked him up to a passion. Then he would knock the furniture about, throw chairs at Margaret's head if she came in his way, and swear in such a dreadful manner that the little girl was glad to seek shelter in her cold and cheerless loft, where at least she could be alone, and could pray to the One Friend she had left.