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Of all the joys that brighten suffering earth, What joy is welcom'd like a new-born child. -MRS. NORTON. A merry scene in the nursery at Viamede, where the little Travillas are waiting for their morning half hour with dear mamma. Mammy coming in smiling and mysterious, her white apron thrown over something held carefully in her arms, bids the children guess what it is. A new dolly for me? says Vi; I'm going to have a birthday to-morrow. A kite, ventured Harold. No, a balloon. A tite! a tite! cried little Herbert, clapping his hands. Pshaw! it's nothing but a bundle of clothes mammy's been doing up for one of you girls, said Eddie. I see a bit of lace or work, or something, hanging down below her apron. Is it a new dress for Vi, mammy? asked Elsie, putting her arm about her sister and giving her a loving kiss. Yah, yah; you ain't no whar nigh it yet, chillens, laughed mammy, dropping into a chair, and warding off an attempt on the part of little Herbert to seize her prize and examine it for himself. Oh, it's alive, cried Harold, half breathlessly, I saw it move! Then as a slight sound followed the movement, A baby! a baby! they all exclaim, O, mammy, whose is it? where did you get it? oh, sit down and show it to us!

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