"Yes, ma'am, but I could not make them mind; they said it was Sunday, and that we always have breakfast later Sundays." "Well, it is a shame to us, I must say," said Mrs. Roberts, sitting down to the table. "I never lie late myself unless something in particular happens. Last night I was out very late, and Sabbath before last I had a bad headache." "Well, well, my dear," said Mr. Roberts, "it is not worth while to worry yourself about it; Sunday is a day of rest; every body indulges a little of a Sunday morning, it is so very natural, you know; one's work done up, one feels like taking a little rest." "Well, I must say it was not the way my mother brought me up," said Mrs. Roberts; "and I really can't feel it to be right." This last part of the discourse had been listened to by two sleepy-looking boys, who had, meanwhile, taken their seats at table with that listless air which is the result of late sleeping. "O, by the by, my dear, what did you give for those hams Saturday?" said Mr. Roberts. "Eleven cents a pound, I believe," replied Mrs. Roberts; "but Stephens and Philips have some much nicer, canvas and all, for ten cents. I think we had better get our things at Stephens and Philips's in future, my dear." "Why? are they much cheaper?" "O, a great deal; but I forget it is Sunday. We ought to be thinking of other things. Boys, have you looked over your Sunday school lesson?" "No, ma'am." "Now, how strange! and here it wants only half an hour of the time, and you are not dressed either. Now, see the bad effects of not being up in time." The boys looked sullen, and said "they were up as soon as any one else in the house." "Well, your father and I had some excuse, because we were out late last night; you ought to have been up full three hours ago, and to have been all ready, with your lessons learned. Now, what do you suppose you shall do?" "O mother, do let us stay at home this one morning; we don't know the lesson, and it won't do any good for us to go." "No, indeed, I shall not. You must go and get along as well as you can. It is all your own fault. Now, go up stairs and hurry. We shall not find time for prayers this morning." The boys took themselves up stairs to "hurry," as directed, and soon one of them called from the top of the stairs, "Mother! mother! the buttons are off this vest; so I can't wear it!" and "Mother! here is a long rip in my best coat!" said another. "Why did you not tell me of it before?" said Mrs. Roberts, coming up stairs. "I forgot it," said the boy. "Well, well, stand still; I must catch it together somehow, if it is Sunday. There! there is the bell! Stand still a minute!" and Mrs. Roberts plied needle, and thread, and scissors; "there, that will do for to-day. Dear me, how confused every thing is to-day!" "It is always just so Sundays," said John, flinging up his book and catching it again as he ran down stairs.