At Home in Canada.

The family of Mr Merryboy was a small one. Besides those who assisted him on the farm—and who were in some cases temporary servants—his household consisted of his wife, his aged mother, a female servant, and a small girl. The latter was a diamond from the London diggings, who had been imported the year before. She was undergoing the process of being polished, and gave promise of soon becoming a very valuable gem. It was this that induced her employer to secure our two masculine gems from the same diggings.

Mrs Merryboy was a vigorous, hearty, able-bodied lady, who loved work very much for the mere exercise it afforded her; who, like her husband, was constitutionally kind, and whose mind was of that serious type which takes concern with the souls of the people with whom it has to do as well as with their bodies. Hence she gave her waif a daily lesson in religious and secular knowledge; she reduced work on the Sabbath-days to the lowest possible point in the establishment, and induced her husband, who was a little shy as well as bluff and off-hand, to institute family worship, besides hanging on her walls here and there sweet and striking texts from the Word of God.

Old Mrs Merryboy, the mother, must have been a merry girl in her youth; for, even though at the age of eighty and partially deaf, she was extremely fond of a joke, practical or otherwise, and had her face so seamed with the lines of appreciative humour, and her nutcracker mouth so set in a smile of amiable fun, and her coal-black eyes so lit up with the fires of unutterable wit, that a mere glance at her stirred up your sources of comicality to their depths, while a steady gaze usually resulted in a laugh, in which she was sure to join with an apparent belief that, whatever the joke might be, it was uncommonly good. She did not speak much. Her looks and smiles rendered speech almost unnecessary. Her figure was unusually diminutive.

Little Martha, the waif, was one of those mild, reticent, tiny things that one feels a desire to fondle without knowing why. Her very small face was always, and, as Bobby remarked, awfully grave, yet a ready smile must have lurked close at hand somewhere, for it could be evoked by the smallest provocation at any time, but fled the instant the provoking cause ceased. She seldom laughed, but when she did the burst was a hearty one, and over immediately. Her brown hair was smooth, her brown eyes were gentle, her red mouth was small and round. Obedience was ingrained in her nature. Original action seemed never to have entered her imagination. She appeared to have been born with the idea that her sphere in life was to do as she was directed. To resist and fight were to her impossibilities. To be defended and kissed seemed to be her natural perquisites. Yet her early life had been calculated to foster other and far different qualities, as we shall learn ere long.

Tim Lumpy took to this little creature amazingly. She was so little that by contrast he became quite big, and felt so! When in Martha’s presence he absolutely felt big and like a lion, a roaring lion capable of defending her against all comers! Bobby was also attracted by her, but in a comparatively mild degree.

On the morning after their arrival the two boys awoke to find that the windows of their separate little rooms opened upon a magnificent prospect of wood and water, and that, the partition of their apartment consisting of a single plank-wall, with sundry knots knocked out, they were not only able to converse freely, but to peep at each other awkwardly—facts which they had not observed the night before, owing to sleepiness.

“I say, Tim,” said Bob, “you seem to have a jolly place in there.”

“First-rate,” replied Tim, “an’ much the same as your own. I had a good squint at you before you awoke. Isn’t the place splendacious?”

“Yes, Tim, it is. I’ve been lookin’ about all the mornin’ for Adam an’ Eve, but can’t see ’em nowhere.”

“What d’ee mean?”

“Why, that we’ve got into the garden of Eden, to be sure.”

“Oh! stoopid,” returned Tim, “don’t you know that they was both banished from Eden?”

“So they was. I forgot that. Well, it don’t much matter, for there’s a prettier girl than Eve here. Don’t you see her? Martha, I think they called her—down there by the summer-’ouse, feedin’ the hanimals, or givin’ ’em their names.”

“There you go again, you ignorant booby,” said Tim; “it wasn’t Eve as gave the beasts their names. It was Adam.”

“An’ wot’s the difference, I should like to know? wasn’t they both made one flesh? However, I think little Martha would have named ’em better if she’d bin there. What a funny little thing she is!”

“Funny!” returned Tim, contemptuously; “she’s a trump!”

During the conversation both boys had washed and rubbed their faces till they absolutely shone like rosy apples. They also combed and brushed their hair to such an extent that each mass lay quite flat on its little head, and bade fair to become solid, for the Guardian’s loving counsels had not been forgotten, and they had a sensation of wishing to please him even although absent.

Presently the house, which had hitherto been very quiet, began suddenly to resound with the barking of a little dog and the noisy voice of a huge man. The former rushed about, saying “Good-morning” as well as it could with tail and tongue to every one, including the household cat, which resented the familiarity with arched back and demoniacal glare. The latter stamped about on the wooden floors, and addressed similar salutations right and left in tones that would have suited the commander of an army. There was a sudden stoppage of the hurricane, and a pleasant female voice was heard.

“I say, Bob, that’s the missus,” whispered Tim through a knot-hole.

Then there came another squall, which seemed to drive madly about all the echoes in the corridors above and in the cellars below. Again the noise ceased, and there came up a sound like a wheezy squeak.

“I say, Tim, that’s the old ’un,” whispered Bob through the knot-hole.

Bob was right, for immediately on the wheezy squeak ceasing, the hurricane burst forth in reply:

“Yes, mother, that’s just what I shall do. You’re always right. I never knew such an old thing for wise suggestions! I’ll set both boys to milk the cows after breakfast. The sooner they learn the better, for our new girl has too much to do in the house to attend to that; besides, she’s either clumsy or nervous, for she has twice overturned the milk-pail. But after all, I don’t wonder, for that red cow has several times showed a desire to fling a hind-leg into the girl’s face, and stick a horn in her gizzard. The boys won’t mind that, you know. Pity that Martha’s too small for the work; but she’ll grow—she’ll grow.”

“Yes, she’ll grow, Franky,” replied the old lady, with as knowing a look as if the richest of jokes had been cracked. The look was, of course, lost on the boys above, and so was the reply, because it reached them in the form of a wheezy squeak.

“Oh! I say! Did you ever! Milk the keows! On’y think!” whispered Bob.

“Ay, an’ won’t I do it with my mouth open too, an’ learn ’ow to send the stream up’ards!” said Tim.

Their comments were cut short by the breakfast-bell; at the same time the hurricane again burst forth:

“Hallo! lads—boys! Youngsters! Are you up?—ah! here you are. Good-morning, and as tidy as two pins. That’s the way to get along in life. Come now, sit down. Where’s Martha? Oh! here we are. Sit beside me, little one.”

The hurricane suddenly fell to a gentle breeze, while part of a chapter of the Bible and a short prayer were read. Then it burst forth again with redoubled fury, checked only now and then by the unavoidable stuffing of the vent-hole.

“You’ve slept well, dears, I hope?” said Mrs Merryboy, helping each of our waifs to a splendid fried fish.

Sitting there, partially awe-stricken by the novelty of their surroundings, they admitted that they had slept well.

“Get ready for work then,” said Mr Merryboy, through a rather large mouthful. “No time to lose. Eat—eat well—for there’s lots to do. No idlers on Brankly Farm, I can tell you. And we don’t let young folk lie abed till breakfast-time every day. We let you rest this morning, Bob and Tim, just by way of an extra refresher before beginning. Here, tuck into the bread and butter, little man, it’ll make you grow. More tea, Susy,” (to his wife). “Why, mother, you’re eating nothing—nothing at all. I declare you’ll come to live on air at last.”

The old lady smiled benignly, as though rather tickled with that joke, and was understood by the boys to protest that she had............