harshly at little Nelly for putting on her grandmother's best bonnet; but Nelly's laughing eyes forbid it utterly; and the mother spoils all her scolding with a perfect shower of kisses.
After this, you go marching, very stately, Into the nursery; and utterly amaze the old nurse; and make a deal of wonderment for the staring, half-frightened baby, who drops his rattle, and makes a bob at you, as if he would jump into your waistcoat pocket.
But you grow tired of this; you tire even of the swing, and of the pranks of Charlie; and you glide away into a corner, with an old, dog's-eared copy of Robinson Crusoe. And you grow heart and soul into the story, until you tremble for the poor fellow with his guns, behind the palisade; and are yourself half dead with fright, when you peep cautiously over the hill with your glass, and see the cannibals at their orgies around the fire.
Yet, after all, you think the old fellow must have had a capital time, with a whole island to himself; and you think you would like such a time yourself, if only Nelly, and Charlie, could be there with you. But this thought does not come till afterward; for the time, you are nothing but Crusoe; you are living in his cave with
