NOTES IN THE BIG HOUSE.

We have lately had many new arrivals in our wards; but, on the principle of not "taking on with the new" until we are quite "off with the old," we must tell our young readers and visitors that two of their favourites have left us and gone home cured. The first of these, the little Annie Mac-, mentioned not long ago as having made such a wonderful recovery, had grown very fond of her home with us, and had become a great pet with the other children on account of her loving, gentle disposition. She had completely won the heart of our helpless Katie by going round and round the ward, supporting the poor child's tottering steps, and helping to guide the go-cart. was touching to see Katie's grief when she lost her little friend; she cried and sobbed so bitterly it was hard to console her.

The second of our old inhabitants who left us is Tommy, who underwent an operation in the arm while staying with us. Tommy was very proud of being our biggest boy and one of those who had been longest in the ward, and he was much impressed by being told that he was thereby bound to set a good example at all times. He tried very hard to learn to read while with us, and made great progress latterly, being helped by a little girl older than himself and confined to bed from an injury to the spine. The promise of a new prayer-book for each had been held out to mistress and pupil as a reward for their patience with one another, and with their lesson book. Both were made happy by receiving their prize a few days before Tommy left the Hospital.

We must say one word about an undertaking just commenced, which we know will greatly delight most little girls of our acquaintance. It is nothing less than the enrolment of such young friends in a society that shall render to the sick children the same good service as the famous Boys' Brigade. So many little girls appealed to us for permission to do something for the sick and sore little patients, that we had to think about the matter seriously. A circular was sent out a few weeks ago stating what we proposed to do; and in a very short time we received the names of twenty five little girls, several of whom had already begun their work as very Busy Bees, and brought in a good store of honey to the hive in the shape of collected pennies. The Society will be entitled "The Little Children of Mary;" its chosen patron is the young Saint Agnes, and its badge will be the device of the cross, the lily, and the dove.

L

AUTHOR OF "HESTER'S HISTORY,' ""THE LITTLE FLOWER SEEKERS," &c.

PART I.

CHAPTER I.

LEO'S SECRET.

EO lived in a country house with his mamma and papa and brothers and sisters; and the children had plenty of room to play and make themselves happy in the gardens, and through the lawns, and in the wood behind the house. They were all merry, romping little children, but Leo was somewhat different from the rest, for he would sometimes take quiet fits and sit at the window gazing at the sky and the distant landscape till his nurse would come and shake him up, wondering what in the world he could see so far away. "I am watching to see if those trees will move," he said, one day. "Of course they move, you silly boy!" said nurse. "All trees move when the wind blows."

Leo shook his head. That was not what he meant at all, but he was quite sure that nurse would never understand him; so he said

no more.

Leo had a secret about these trees, and one day he whispered it fearfully to Patty, his favourite sister.

"Leo," said Patty, "do tell me what you see over there, and I'll give you this large piece of sugarstick."

"I don't care for the sugarstick," said Leo, gallantly; "you may keep it for yourself, Patty, and I'll tell you all the same."

"Take half, then," said the little girl, breaking it in her pinafore ; and Leo took half, and, as the two sucked the sugarstick with their heads together, Leo's grand secret came out in a whisper.

"It's those trees over there, Patty," said the boy, pointing with his sticky little finger towards seven tall ash-trees which grew on a ridge of upland against the horizon. They stood at regular intervals in a row, and were crisply defined against the sky, their foliage growing somewhat fantastically, which gave them a wild, unsettled air. "I see them," said Patty; they are quite like the other trees." "No," said Leo; "look how shaggy they are, as if they had just come off a long, long journey. And so they have, Patty--they walk." "O Leo, you goose!"

"Very well, Patty, go away and play with the other babies. I am very sorry I took your sugarstick.'

"Sulky-puss!" cried Patty, laughing, and danced off to her play.

again.

But Leo remained sitting at the window, his head on his little

hand, gazing over the country at the trees which so puzzled his fancy. Nurse was at her tea, so he was not disturbed, and twilight began to descend on the landscape. He looked so intently for a long time that the seven ashes began to dance before him. But he rubbed his eyes, and there they stood quite still "with all their hair on end," as he said to himself; as still as if they had never moved in their lives.

Nevertheless, Leo felt now more sure than ever that they set off every night for a long walk out over the world, and came back before people were up in the morning. They looked exactly like a file of soldiers. "One, two-one, two!" said Leo, shuffling his feet. Oh, they won't move while I am looking. How I wish I could sit up a whole night, and then I should catch them!"

66

Soon after this he had to go to bed, and fell sound asleep thinking about the trees. In the middle of the night he awoke and could not go asleep again, but lay wondering whether the ash-trees were now gone off on a journey, or whether they were still standing on the upland "with their hair on end." The moonlight was shining faintly in the room, and all his little brothers were fast asleep in their cribs round the wall. Leo sat up and looked about him. From the window of the day-nursery he knew he could see all he wished to see. Could he venture out of his bed and creep in there without disturbing nurse or any of the children? All the doors were open, and he had often heard nurse declare that she "slept so light the squeak of a mouse would waken her." And the boards in the floor might squeak like a mouse. Well, let her waken and he would tell her all about it. He was not going to do any harm.

The worst she could do would be to go down to papa's study in the morning, and tell him that Master Leo was going mad about the seven trees on the hill, and that they had better be cut down before the boy grew up an idiot. Nurse was such an old nurse in the house and so good when anybody was sick, that Leo knew she could say what she liked. And then his papa would talk to him. That would be no trouble, at all events; he loved his papa and was not afraid of him. "So here goes!" said Leo, and the little bare feet went pattering across the bed-room floor, and the boards did not squeak, and Leo found himself at the nursery window, his face pressed to the and his heart beating so hard that he could scarcely breathe. pane, The world outside looked very dim, for the moonshine was not strong enough to light it up. Leo rubbed the pane and made it clear and looked very hard at the ridge against the horizon. The hill was as bare as the palm of the little boy's hand. The trees were gone!

Leo drew a long breath, and rubbed his eyes, and looked again. He gazed around at the other parts of the landscape, but trees and bushes were all in their places; all were there to be seen-except the seven ash-trees on the upland, which were gone.

"Aha!" said Leo, "I have caught them!" and he felt very much astonished although he had expected to see just what he had seen: a bare hill and no trees, the trees being away, as he had known, on their midnight ramble. He sat waiting a long time hoping to see them coming back; but at last he got very cold and sleepy, and was glad

to creep into his bed.

Of one thing, however, he was sure after this,

that the trees did walk every night.

He said nothing to anyone about this strange discovery, for little boys do not like to be laughed at.

CHAPTER II.

HE GOES OFF WITH THE TREES.

AFTER this Leo thought more and more about the seven strange ashtrees, and he never ceased wondering about where they went and what they saw on their way when they were off on their midnight excursions over the world. At last one night he could not go asleep at all for thinking, and, growing quite wild with curiosity, he got up and dressed himself, crept down-stairs, unlocked the great hall-door, though he did not reach much above the handle, and stepped out, closing it softly behind him. He was so excited at the time that he did not know he was doing a naughty thing. He meant no harm, and thought he would come back very soon after he had seen how the trees would get themselves up out of the ground, and had watched them start on their march, and observed where they went to. He flew over the lawns and up and down the smooth green slopes, climbed a ditch or two, and soon arrived panting at the foot of the hill whereon stood the curious trees.

There they were, looking more lively and intelligent than ever. They had not stirred as yet, and it was now about midnight. Leo sat down and watched them a little while, then got impatient and approached a yard or two nearer, stealing gradually up and up the hill, never taking his eyes for a moment off the seven mysterious trunks with their fantastic foliage and arms tossed this way and that way over their heads. After a time he got tired of waiting and went boldly up to the stoutest tree of the seven, which stood in the middle of the row, clasped his arms round the trunk, and laid his little cheek against the bark. He did not know exactly how he ought to speak to a tree, but he wanted to explain that he desired it to be friendly and allow him to see it set out for its nightly walk. Then he began to examine the tree and found that right above his head there was a nice roomy seat among the branches. Without stopping to think he put his foot on a twig and sprang up into this nest; and there he sat as comfortable as could be, with his back against the trunk and his arm round a stout bough at either side..

What was to happen next? He did not know, but was sure something strange was going to happen. He saw his father's house nodding good-bye at him from the distant hollow; the stars began to wink at him, and suddenly the moon rolled out from behind the chimneys with a most curious grin, such as he had never seen before, upon her face. "Something is coming !" thought little Leo, and he prepared for a shock. Suddenly he heard a peculiar sound which

made him think at first that a great wind had begun to blow; but that could not be as the leaves on the tree he sat in had not stirred. He peered backward to where the sound came from and then he saw that the first tree of the row of ashes was swaying about in the air, leaning to this side and that, and dragging its roots a little more and a little more out of the earth at each bend of its trunk. "Hallo!" cried Leo, in great delight, "here it comes! We are going to start!" and he leaned forward and watched eagerly as one after another the seven trees uprooted themselves out of the ground and stood with their roots spread upon the hill just like the claws of gigantic crabs. He felt a very odd sensation when his own tree began to perform in this way, but he held on bravely and was rewarded for his courage when he found himself carried slowly down-hill in the arms of the ash, which closed round him in the most friendly manner. "Hold on, little man!" said a burly voice, that sounded like a puff of wind, and off set the seven ash-trees, marching stoutly in single file across the country.

There was a nice opening in the branches just before Leo, so that he could see beautifully out over the world as he was carried along. The moon was so bright that he could see the rivers flowing and the houses sleeping and the fields all smiling under their load of growing grain. The walking trees kept out in the open plains as they marched along, for when moving among other trees they were apt to get their branches entangled and torn about, which was, doubtless, the reason why "their hair always stood on end," as Leo had described it to himself. A little of this annoyance they could not avoid, but they kept generally as much as possible on the edges of the forests. When they met with a river running right across their path, they stepped boldly into it and waded to the opposite bank. They crossed several mountains and passed by numerous towns in the space of half an hour, for they marched as swiftly as any giant in his boots of seven leagues. At last they came to the shores of the sea, and Leo was rather astonished to find that they were going to walk on the ocean. Into it they plunged, however, and floundered along through the waves, passing ships which hailed them through a speaking trumpet. But the trees floated on darkly in the distance without answering the greeting; and Leo was sure the people in the ships must take them for a phantom fleet such as nurse had once told him about, which had been seen by her son, who was a sailor. The trees also passed quite close by the lighthouses, not being like vessels afraid of the rocks, and they very good-naturedly stopped to let Leo look in at the lighthouse windows. A lighthouse was a thing about which Leo had often been very curious, and now, while his ash-tree stood on tip-toes on the ledge of a rock, the little boy put his face to the pane of the chamber of glass and observed all its arrangements to his fullest satisfaction. He saw first the green and then the red light turn round and glare out over the wide black desert of the sea, making the cruel foam glitter round the edges of the fatal rocks. He saw a woman sitting solitary in this lonely chamber of the air, dozing asleep with her head on her hands. Suddenly she started up and listened. No, it was a