When the little boy in Sacontala is offered for a plaything "_a peacock of earthenware, painted with rich colours_," he answers, "_I shall like the peacock if it can run and fly--not else_." The Indian drama of Sacontala was written many centuries ago. Notwithstanding it has so long been observed, that children dislike useless, motionless playthings, it is but of late that more rational toys have been devised for their amusements. Whilst Herbert's cart rolled on, Favoretta viewed it with scornful eyes; but at length, cured by the neglect of the spectators of this fit of disdain, she condescended to be pleased, and spied a few things worthy of her notice. Bilboquets, battledores, and shuttlecocks, she acknowledged were no bad things--"And pray," said she, "what are those pretty little baskets, Mad. de Rosier? And those others, which look as if they were but just begun? And what are those strings, that look like mamma's bell cords?--and is that a thing for making laces, such as Grace laces me with? And what are those cabinets with little drawers for?" Mad. de Rosier had taken notice of these little cabinets--they were for young mineralogists; she was also tempted by a botanical apparatus; but as her pupils were not immediately going into the country, where flowers could be procured, she was forced to content herself with such things as could afford them employment in town. The making of baskets, of bell-ropes, and of cords for window-curtains, were occupations in which, she thought, they might successfully employ themselves. The materials for these little manufactures were here ready prepared; and only such difficulties were left as children love to conquer. The materials for the baskets, and a little magnifying glass, which Favoretta wished to have, were just packed up in a basket, which was to serve for a model, when Herbert's voice was heard at the other end of the shop: he was exclaiming in an impatient tone, "I must and I will eat them, I say." He had crept under the counter, and, unperceived by the busy shopman, had dragged out of a pigeon-hole, near the ground, a parcel, wrapped up in brown paper: he had seated himself upon the ground, with his back to the company, and, with patience worthy of a better object, at length untied the difficult knot, pulled off the string, and opened the parcel. Within the brown paper there appeared a number of little packets, curiously folded in paper of a light brown. Herbert opened one of these, and finding that it contained a number of little round things which looked like comfits, he raised the paper to his mouth, which opened wide to receive them. The shopman stopping his arm, assured him that they were "_not good to eat_;" but Herbert replied in the angry tone, which caught Mad. de Rosier's ear. "They are the seeds of radishes, my dear," said she: "if they be sown in the ground, they will become radishes; then they will be fit to eat, but not till then. Taste them now, and try." He