Once on a time, I cannot just say when, but it was years on years ago, there lived near a pleasant village in England, a nice, kind-tempered, elderly woman, whom the neighbors called "dear old Dame Watson." She was not rich, this worthy dame, but she would never allow herself to be called poor, for as she had a comfortable home, and was industrious and healthy, she never felt want. She was a very neat seamstress, and so diligent and obliging that she never lacked employment.

Dame Watson was a widow and childless, but she had living with her, two orphan children of her youngest son. William Watson was long the comfort of her sad widowhood, but when he grew to be a man, he chose the hard and dangerous life of a sailor. After awhile there came a long war-time, and there was fighting on the sea as well as on the land, and at last poor William was killed in a battle between two great ships. Then he was let down into the deep sea, to where the water is always still and clear—where the drifting silver sand covered him like a grave-mound—where the long sea-weed waved over him like grass, and bright mosses and beautiful shells shone round him like flowers.

When the news of the brave sailor's death reached his home, his mother, who had seen a great deal of trouble and learned to submit to God's will, bowed her head and prayed; and soon the good Lord gave her strength, so that she wiped away her tears, and went about her daily duties; but William's young wife was ill and weak and could not bear her grief, but pined away fast and died, leaving a little daughter and a baby son to the care of their grandmother.

These children were a great charge to the good woman, you may depend—but still they comforted her, and made the cottage cheerful; so she never fretted about the trouble. Kitty Watson was a bright, intelligent, good-tempered little girl, and so rosy, fat, and funny that nobody could look at her without smiling. Kitty was handy and industrious, and for all her merry, frolicsome ways, was a great help to her grandmamma, in the cottage and garden.

Willie grew to be a fine handsome hearty child, full of play and laughter and chatter, and was the pet and darling of the whole neighborhood.

The cottage garden was very small, yet, with care and industry, Dame Watson was able to raise in it not only vegetables enough for her own use, but a few choice salads, peas, and cauliflowers, which she disposed of to the Rector of the parish, whose learned old gardener could not grow anything so fine, though he boasted that he once gardened for a real lord.

At first, Dame Watson used to carry these to the rectory in a hand-basket, but at last, she hit upon a plan for saving herself time and trouble. She had a house-dog that was the petted playfellow of little Willie, and which she treated kindly for the child's sake, though she had no love for dogs in general, and Bran's laziness and voracious appetite tried her very much. Now, she resolved to make him useful, so she had a little cart and harness made, and taught him to draw the baskets of vegetables from the cottage to the rectory, with Kitty for a driver or leader. Bran was strong, though he was not very large—he was good and intelligent, and always did the best he knew how. The widow said that though the dog grew thin and had pretty much given up frolicking, she knew he must be happier in his conscience for earning his living; but perhaps Bran had his own private opinion on this matter.

One morning, little Master Willie insisted on riding over to the rectory on top of the load of vegetables. There he sat, grand as a lord, flourishing his whip over poor Bran, who pulled and panted along and thought his lot was a very hard one indeed, almost too much for patient dog-nature to bear. And so it was, for the baskets were uncommonly heavy—Willie was fat, and Kitty too full of frolic to think of helping, even by pushing when they were going up hill. But how Willie enjoyed his ride, selfish, thoughtless little fellow! He laughed and shouted and flung his arms about, and bounced up and down, and kicked with delight.

The next morning, when they were getting ready to send the baskets over to the rectory, Bran's harness was found so gnawed and torn that it could not be used. The widow said that the rats had been at it—but Bran, naughty dog, knew better. The good dame had a new one made, but when she went to put it on to Bran he gave a dreadful howl and ran away, as fast as he could. After a day or two, he came back, bringing a huge mastiff, which he introduced to his mistress, as a better cart-horse than himself. The widow was so much amused by this cunning trick that she made use of the stray mastiff and let Bran go back into his old lazy ways.

I cannot stay to tell you any more of Willie's childhood. He was always a good boy at home, and a diligent scholar at school; so everybody liked and respected him. When he grew to be a young man the good Rector got him a situation in a London counting-house. There he always remembered his grandmamma's teachings, and was prudent, industrious, and honest; so he rose and rose, till he became a great, rich merchant, and was knighted by the king. He married a beautiful lady and they had children—some half dozen I believe, and I have heard that they were all handsome and clever and good. Kitty Watson never married, but she always had a pleasant home with her brother.

At last Sir William (for that was his title now) bought the estate on which his grandmamma's cottage stood, and built a fine house on it. He would not have the cottage torn down, but kept it carefully for the dear old dame's sake, though she had been gone to Heaven ten years or more.

The first time that Sir William and his family drove over to the rectory, in their grand yellow-bodied coach, with a big-wigged coachman on the box and two footmen in smart liveries behind, the good merchant said to his sister—"Do you remember, Kitty, my first ride over this road on the little dog-cart? Oh never, never have I enjoyed a ride half as much as that. I never shall have such another, for I never can be little Willie again."