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 So I charge you three misses, Not to show your phizes On parapet wall, Or chimney so tall, But to keep on the earth, The place of your birth. 'Even so,' says papa. 'Amen,' says mama. 'Be it so,' says Aunt Bar.

The Aunt Barbara here referred to was a maiden sister of my father's, a somewhat stern though upright ruler of our youngest days; but the dear father, with his warm affection, his sense of fun, and his talent for rhyming, represented a beneficent Providence to me from my earliest recollection.

Another very vivid remembrance of that first period of childhood remains. My father was an active member of the 'Independent' body, belonging to the Rev. Mr. Leifchild's Bridge Street congregation, and the May missionary meetings were a great event to us children, for, taking lunch with us, we sometimes picnicked in the gallery of the selected chapel, and divided our time between listening to thrilling stories of the missionaries and more physical pleasures. A number of these rather jolly divines often dined at our house, and the dinner party of the ministers was one of the incidents of the May meetings. There was a certain Mr. Burnet of Cork, who used to keep the table in a roar. To be allowed to dine and listen at a side-table was indeed a treat. But on one occasion, my name, alas! was in the Black Book, for some childish misdemeanour—I forget what; but the punishment I well remember. I was sent up to the attics, instead of being allowed to join the dinner party. Upstairs in