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Bridget had called her from playing with Noah's ark, and said she must have her face washed.


to kiss,” said mother. “I hate Must,” said Kitty.

Why so ?” asked her mother. “Must always makes me cross,” said Kitty.

“ Must only wants to make Kitty a good, clean little child,” said mother. “If you minded Must, you would love him dearly. Instead of that, you take Ill-humour, who always quarrels with Must, and then there are sorry times. How nicely Must has washed little Kitty's face !"

• Is it nice for papa ?” asked Kitty, going on tiptoe before the glass.

Very,” answered mother. 6 And who curled Kitty's hair ?"

“Must did that,” replied the little girl ; “but he did it an hour ago.”

The door opened, and papa’s step was heard coming in.

“There's papa," said she, skipping into the hall, and leaving Ill-humour far behind.

“My dear little daughter," said papa, lifting her up over his head, and then giving her a couple of kisses on her two rosy cheeks.

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“Do I look nice, papa ?" she asked.

“I think you do," said he, looking at her hair, and mouth, and hands; “I think you do."

” • Must does know, I believe truly,” thought Kitty. “If I hadn't minded him, I should not have been ready for papa's kisses. O! I wish I could always mind Must, and not get cross as I do ;" and a little sorry shadow came over her heart.

After dinner, papa looked at his watch, and jumping up, said

“I must go.”

“ Does Must make you, papa, as it does me ?” asked Kitty.

• Yes, my daughter.”

“Don't you think Must is hard sometimes, making us when we don't want to do, papa ?” asked she. “Must is one of our best friends,"


рара; “it only urges us to do what we ought to do. Perhaps we might forget, or put off; but Must says, 'Do now.'

.' Should we not be very thankful for such a friend ?“Did God give us Must?" asked Kitty. Yes," answered papa;

6 therefore I think we should love to mind him."

When papa went, Kitty trudged up stairs. She wanted to get her black doll. Bridget met her at




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the nursery door, shaking her head, and pointing her to go

back. “I want my black doll,” whispered Kitty.

“You must go away now,” said Bridget ; "your little cousin's just got to sleep. Your black doll is in the crib. No, no, you must not try to get it.”

Kitty grew red: Ill-humour was ready to join her. Then she swallowed the cry that came up in her throat.

“I will try to mind Must,” she said to herself.

At this, Ill-humour ran away, and little Joy crept up by her side, and put her arms lovingly round the child. They went down stairs together; and Kitty took one of her picture-books, and sat down on the rug at her mother's feet. Little Joy was with her all the time.

At night, when mother undressed Kitty, the little girl laid her hand on mother's bosom, and said

“ Mamma, I do want to be a good girl, for goodness does make me so happy;" and when she knelt by mamma's side, she put in her little prayer—"Dear God, will you help me to do as Must says, and not be naughty, for Christ's sake."

And the mother prayed in her heart that the sweet spirit of obedience might ever make its home in the bosom of her darling little one.

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PASSING THE GLACIER DES BOSSONS. The late Mr. Albert Smith, who was one of the first travellers to ascend Mont Blanc, gives a very vivid account of his journey. We have already made our young readers acquainted with the Glacier du Tacconay, which has to be crossed before reaching the summit of the highest mountain in Europe ; and we now bring under their notice the Glacier des Bossons, another formidable barrier to the traveller's progress.


The first portion of the journey across the Glacier des Bossons is easy enough, provided always that the outer crust of the snow lying upon it is tolerably hard. We marched on in single file, the guides taking it by turns to lead (as the first man had, of course, the heaviest work), amidst cliffs and hillocks, and across sloping fields and uplands, all of dazzling whiteness. I here observed, for the first time, the intense darkblue colour which the sky apparently assumes. This may be only by comparison with the unsubdued glare from the snow on all sides—since, on making a kind of tube with my two hands, and looking up, as I might have done at a picture, there was nothing unusual in the tint. Our veils and glasses now proved great comforts, for the sun was scorching, and the blinding light from the glaciers actually distressing. By degrees our road became less practically easy. We had to make zigzag paths up very steep pitches, and go out of our line to circumvent threatening ice-blocks or suspected crevices. The porters, too, began to grumble, and there was a perpetual wrangling going on between them and the guides to the extent of their auxiliary march ; and another bottle of wine had constantly to be added to the promised reward when they returned to Chamouni. All this time we had been

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