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STORIES OF THE "LITTLE FOLKS" COTS.-III. By ANNE BEALE.

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N this our third visit to the East London Hospital for Children, we are surprised to see that it has an opposite neighbour as tall as itself. This is a great red brick building which. either have arisen, like a mushroom, in a night, or the commencement of it have been unnoticed when we were here last. It is to be a centre for the fire-engines and brigade of this densely-peopled quarter. The Secretary of our hospital congratulates himself on its erection, because, should a fire arise, it will be only needful to send across the way, to get it speedily put out. Masons and carpenters seem to have the best of it everywhere to-day, for the babies are turned out of their ward, while repairs and alterations are going on both outside and in. No sound however, disturbs the interior quiet, and the little patients are not incommoded by the hammering and other noises without.

On our last visit, we heard that large-sized knitted woollen vests were greatly needed; for the ladies who had generously furnished such as were then in use had only made them big enough for very young children, and their elders wanted them equally. Accordingly, some good friends filled our bag with enlarged specimens, which were received with great delight by the matron, as "the very things most required;" so our visit began with flying colours. But rain and sunshine, light and shade, are symptomatic of nature and life. Our pleasure was damped when we approached our 66 Cot," and inquired for Mary Anne, who, it will be remembered, we left glancing through a hymnbook bound in red, and for whom the prayers of our young readers were asked. She has " gone home" to her Father in heaven. She grew restless to return to her earthly parents, and left the hospital not very long after we saw her there. Her large dark eyes and thoughtful face, together with her eager, anxious words, have frequently haunted us since. And the poverty and scarcity she told us of followed her to her poor abode, so that she missed the nourishing food of the hospital, and asked to return to it. She was taken, instead, to that happy land where suffering ceases, and we hope and believe is now singing her glad hymns and hallelujahs in the Paradise of God.

She was succeeded in our "Cot" by another

Mary Anne, a little one between two and three years old. Her case seems to have been one of actual starvation, for she was a mere skeleton when she arrived. Alas! her relations were as badly off as she. It was the every-day tale of a father out of work and a family destitute. Under these circumstances, it is the feeding up which alone is necessary, and Mary Anne soon benefited by her good cheer. Before she was quite as plump as could be wished, however, her father had found work in Kent, and took her with him, and the rest of his family, into that so-called "Garden of England," where we will hope they have all found food and shelter. After her came Emma W--, who had rheumatic fever. She was nine years old, and so fearfully dirty, that she was obliged to have her hair taken off, and to be washed from head to foot before she could be encased in clean linen. She is reported to have been a spoilt child, and consequently, like all spoilt children, difficult to deal with. Who knows but she may have refused to submit to that washing and combing so necessary for health? At any rate, she was quite well in a fortnight after the ablutions had been performed, and proper remedies administered.

Last, but not least, we arrive at the present inmate of the Cot, and it is delightful to turn to so good and patient a little girl, after the account we have had of dirty Emma. She tells us her name is Katie; that she is eight; that she has two little brothers at home; and that she is crocheting some crimson wool that she holds in her white little hands into a shawl for herself. She has been suffering from typhoid fever; but it is predicted she will soon recover. "She will have every chance of getting well because she is so good," says her kind nurse. She is much pleased with a small story-book and a tiny tea-kettle which we present to her on behalf of LITTLE FOLKS, and the crochet is forsaken for the tale.

ness.

Very little suffices to alleviate the tedium of illThis is further shown as we take our parting glance round the girls' ward. It is more than halffilled with babies, owing to the repairs in progress in the infants' ward, and some of them are wailing pitifully. A young friend who turns everything to account as aids to good works has made us bearer of two immense necklaces formed of empty cottonreels, interspersed with shreds of bright-coloured calico. The presentation of these to a couple of these puny suffering little creatures has a magical effect. One of them, especially, holds hers up to

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us, and rattles it, her face all laughter instead of tears; indeed, we can scarcely get away from her, she is so attractive in her infantine delight. But next to her crib is one that must interest all, young and old; it bears the inscription, "Helen Maud Murchison's Cot," and has a red screen on either side and a picture of angels above it. This was founded by a bereaved father in memory of a beloved child. The convalescent's table, where we left dear Mary Anne Land her young companions, is nearly empty to-day, but we notice one "ministering child," who is up and doing. This is a small girl with her left hand in splints; it was dreadfully burnt, she says. However, she does more with one hand than many of us with two, for she trips busily from cot to cot, soothing the wailing infants, amusing the sorrowful children, and feeding one whose poor eyes are bandaged. We venture to predict a useful life for one so helpful and unselfish, if that life be spared.

Now we mount to the boys' ward, where there are also many babies-indeed, one tenants LITTLE FOLKS Cot No. 2, for the time being, who is declared to be "the pet of the ward." Truly, he looks a bonny boy, with his clear blue eyes and good-humoured face. He is dressed, and is in the good nurse's arms while we listen to his story, and although he cannot yet talk, he seems fully to understand what passes. He fell out of bed and broke his arm, which is now tightly bandaged, so that it will soon be well again. He is in the habit of looking compassionately at it when it is dressed, as well as when it is mentioned. He is much attached to his cot, and positively declines to sleep out of it. It was required for a patient of larger growth, and Jimmie was removed to one of smaller dimensions; but he made such a hulla-balloo that the nurse was obliged to take him to her own bed that night. But no sooner did he see the brazen

scroll of" LITTLE FOLKS Cot" on the following day, than the trouble began over again, and they were compelled to turn out the interloper and replace him; since then he has been good and happy.

You will, perhaps, remember the boy Freddy, whom we left two or three months ago asleep in the aforesaid much-esteemed crib. Well, he left it and the hospital, perfectly cured. He was succeeded by the young jockey, formerly located in a neighbouring hammock, and who was so talkative and amusing that he made everybody laugh. He also went out much better. Thus we have brought your protégés down to the time of writing. Our first friend, Charley, whose leg was amputated, comes now and then to the hospital, and an appeal for an artificial leg is being made to the Hospital Sunday Fund, which we hope will be successful. His great friend, Bobby, has been measured for one. He is now at the Convalescent Home in Suffolk, inhaling country breezes before returning to the close atmosphere of his own abode. This Home is at Mellis, which word is derived from mel, meaning honey. And surely no name could be more appropriate, either to the place or its generous donor, Lord Henniker, since the sweets of pure air, and green fields, and lovely flowers are afforded to the languid drooping bees of the great city, and inspire them with courage and strength to work in their own hives again.

We have but to wander round the ward before going away to be made to hope that all the pale faces we see may be rendered rosy by a trip to the Convalescent Home. Many of them belong to boys big enough to earn their daily bread, and so to be helps to their parents. When we inquire how they are they all answer, "Nicely, thank you," and thus read us a lesson of grateful patience.

And now we again take leave for a time of the two LITTLE FOLKS Cots and their small occupants.

MY

DOG.

By One of the Authors of "Poems for a Child."

HIS dog of mine is kind and true,

His honest eyes with friendship shine;
A better dog you never knew,
Believe me, than this dog of mine.
My will to him is more than law,

He is my subject, I his king;
At my command he'll shake a paw,
Fetch, carry, beg, do anything.
Upon his eager nose I lay

A most delightful piece of meat,
But, till I tell him that he may,

This dog of mine declines to eat.

I hide my ball where none can see,
In yonder elm so green and tall,
This dog of mine runs up the tree,
And brings me back my pretty ball!
If other dogs are handsomer,
How small a matter beauty is!
There's not a dog, I dare aver,

Can boast a truer heart than his.
From him I never mean to part;

About his neck my arms I twine, Because I love with all my heart This very darling dog of mine.

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doubt that he was the ringleader in many a merry romp on pleasant Stratford green, when football or hockey or hide-and-seek was as dear to the English lads of good Queen Bess's time as they still are to their descendants in the reign of Queen Victoria. Yet when we consider the vast variety of outdoor games and indoor amusements that are at the service of the young folk of the present day, we begin to wonder how our great-great-grandfathers, and their great-great-grandfathers managed to beguile themselves when they were boys. For though a large number of the sports in vogue existed centuries ago, they were then of so rude a character that they would now be regarded with some feeling of contempt. But boys will be boys, and we may be pretty sure that the youth of five hundred years since did not fail to discover plenty of ways to amuse themselves all the year round.

ARCHERY,-STRINGING THE BOW.

Perhaps nothing strikes one more in connection with this subject than the rapid growth of those games in which both boys and girls may take part. The world of sports and pastimes has indeed witnessed a revolution. The old games were so rough and ready that they were scarcely suited to the gentler frames of girls, and, besides, people used to think that their lasses, as a rule, should always be sewing, or knitting, or doing household duties of some kind. It was Jack who was continually

FOR BOYS AND GIRLS.

being warned against all play, for Jenny, I suppose, was far too much addicted to work to need a caution. Times are changed, however, and games such as croquet, and lawn tennis, and archery have spread with remarkable rapidity in all parts of the world, for no other reason than that they can be most fully enjoyed when the "sides" are composed

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