The boys had their traps, bats, and balls, their kites, their stumps and wicket-markers, and were ready for “hog-over hie,” “prisoners’-base,” “stay-out,” or any other delightful game. And the girls were ready for a dance, or a romp, as the occasion might require—or for a roll down the slope, or for “hunt-the-slipper,” or “honey-pots,” or any other exhilirating game. Within the hall were the juveniles of higher stamp—there were the good clergyman’s sons and daughters, three of the former and four of the latter; there were also the sons and daughters of the mayor of the Town; and of the half-pay captains in the valley. Then there were the apothecary’s two daughters, so proud that their father’s occupation disgusted them; and the steward’s two sons, fine, noble looking youths, so humble, that they looked more like gentlemen, than any other persons. However, pride soon met with a fall, for the apothecary’s two daughters had a roll down the slope without stopping, a ride on the ponies, and a dance with the village-school dux—that is the boy who could do “fluxions;” and long before night, the poor and the rich, the rustic and the genteel, mingled in the most delightful harmony imaginable. The good old rector, who was all joy to see young people so happy, often found the tears coming into his eyes, and all seemed to share his sympathy. It would be tedious for me to mention all the “noble sports” and funny entertainments the young ones amused themselves with during this happy, jolly day—from the drawing of a crooked stick for a plough, to the noble game of cricket; or hand-kites arose in various directions, or tired groups of boys exhausted their games on the great meadow. But it was a crowning joy to find the whole assembled at nightfall, just as the sun descended to his rest, to partake of a sumptuous entertainment, finished well by rich, old black-currant wine, and other innocent drinks. To hear the shouts—the hearty shouts of the youngsters—to see the beautiful rosy cheeks of the village girls, and the freshened looks of those, whose false education had made them lack-a-dasical! All were free, and hearty, and joyous, and when the “Hymn of Praise” was sung after supper, it appeared to old Peter Parley as the most delightful thing of all. I wish those who read Peter Parley’s Annual would encourage these kind of mysteries. I mean those hundreds of rich persons who can give the “children of the poor” a treat in such a manner. Our good Queen Victoria has set us an example in this particular, which all would do well to follow, and poor old Peter says, in consequence:—“God bless the Queen of England.” God bless the Queen of England and happy may she reign, Through many years of peaceful strength, our freedom to maintain; May virtue be the brightest gem to sparkle in her crown, A loyal people’s ardent love the safeguard of her throne. [Illustration] Something about Ships and Shipping.