"It wasn't pretty for her to do it; but I don't think it was breaking the Commandments, dear." "Why, yes, it is, Annie, because I forbid her to do it." "Oh! it comes under obedience, then." "Yes, she is very naughty." Two weeks ago Mr. Angus asked ma to let Ethel and I go on the lake with him. Ma is afraid of the water, you know, and so she asked, anxiously,— "Are you used to rowing?" He seemed very much amused as he said, "Yes, Mrs. Asbury." Pa laughed as he explained, "Our pastor is a regular sailor, ma: I'll trust him." When we were getting into the boat I was a little afraid myself, it tipped so; and there stood dear little Ethel shaking from head to foot. "Will it tip over?" she asked, as Mr. Angus lifted her carefully in. "No, dear. I think God will take care of us." He looked very lovingly at her as he put her down on the cross seat in the centre, while I sat at one end and he at the other. There was not a sign of fear after that. She sat up straight, looking at him, but not saying a word till he asked,— "Do you like it, Ethel?" "Yes, sir." The next day she was in his room, and he saw her take her five dollies out of the locker and make them all kneel down by her doll's bedstead. She was just going to kneel too, when he asked,— "What are you doing, Ethel?" She came right up to him and said, "Ma is going to take me to New York when my Marion is well enough, and I'm going to ask God to make the boat go softly." "That's right," he told her; and then he heard her whisper a little prayer. He told ma that she seemed perfectly sure after this that the boat would go softly, as she said. He often says, "She is a blessed child." He never praises her, as so many do; but I know he thinks her beautiful, from the way he spoke one day when a lady was comparing her with another child. He said, "There can be no comparison. For purity and sweetness of expression, she is beyond any child I ever saw." I must tell you one thing more about our pet, and then I think you will credit me with four letters of common length. You know we have always wondered that Ethel should remember so much about her nurse Bridget, who died a year ago. She always seemed troubled about her, and used to look up and say, "Can't you speak to me out of heaven? Can't you just whisper a little?" A few days ago she went into the kitchen and sat down very soberly. "It's very bad," she began, "to have naughty legs go into heaven. Naughty legs had better be cut off than to try to get into heaven." Cook told ma, and we all thought she had heard somebody read about; "If thy right hand offend thee," etc.; but she came to ma the same day, sat down, and began to sigh. She looked anxiously in ma's face as she said,— "I suppose Bridget has told God by this time that I kicked her." Ma says she was very much surprised, as she never knew Ethel to kick any one; but she answered calmly,— "If Bridget told God, she told him also that you didn't mean to."