thing to wash every now and then. You can't think what a fuss she makes if I have more than just so many white clothes in the wash every week.”

"That's too bad," said Alice. "Suppose you bring it up to me-it wouldn't be often-and I'll have it washed for you, if you care enough about it to take the trouble."

"O indeed I do!" said Ellen; "I should like it very much; and I'll get Mr. Van Brunt to-no I can't, aunt Fortune won't let me; I was going to say I would get him to saw off the legs and make it lower for me, and then my dressingbox would stand so nicely on the top. Maybe I can yet. Oh I never showed you my boxes and things."

Ellen brought them all out and displayed their beauties. In the course of going over the writing-desk she came to the secret drawer and a little money in it.

"Oh that puts me in mind!" she said. "Miss Alice, this money is to be spent for some poor child;-now I've been thinking Nancy has behaved so to me I should like to give her something to show her that I don't feel unkindly about it-what do you think would be a good thing?"

"I don't know, Ellen-I'll take the matter into consideration."

"Do you think a Bible would do?"

Perhaps that would do as well as any thing;—I'll think about it."

"I should like to do it very much," said Ellen, "for she has vexed me wonderfully."

"Well, Ellen, would you like to hear my other pieces of news? or have you no curiosity?"

"O yes, indeed," said Ellen; "I had forgotten it entirely; what is it, Miss Alice?"

"You know I told you one concerns only myself, but it is great news to me. I learnt this morning that my brother will come to spend the holidays with me. It is many months since I have seen him."

"Does he live far away ?" said Ellen.

"Yes, he has gone far away to pursue his studies, and cannot come home often. The other piece of news is that I intend, if you have no objection, to ask Miss Fortune's leave to have you spend the holidays with me too."

"Oh, delightful!" said Ellen, starting up and clapping

her hands, and then throwing them round her adopted sister's neck;-" dear Alice, how good you are!"

"Then I suppose I may reckon upon your consent," said Alice, “and I'll speak to Miss Fortune without delay."

"O thank you, dear Miss Alice;—how glad I am! I shall be happy all the time from now till then thinking of it. You aren't going?"

"I must."

"Ah don't go yet! Sit down again; you know you're my sister, don't you want to read mamma's letter?"

"If you please, Ellen, I should like it very much.”

She sat down, and Ellen gave her the letter, and stood by while she read it, watching her with glistening eyes; and though as she saw Alice's fill her own overflowed again, she hung over her still to the last; going over every line this time with a new pleasure.

"New York, Saturday, Nov. 22, 18—.

"MY DEAR ELLEN,

"I meant to have written to you before, but have been scarcely able to do so. I did make one or two efforts which came to nothing; I was obliged to give it up before finishing any thing that could be called a letter. To-day I feel much stronger than I have at any time since your departure.

"I have missed you, my dear child, very much. There is not an hour in the day, nor a half hour, that the want of you does not come home to my heart; and I think I have missed you in my very dreams. This separation is a very hard thing to bear. But the hand that has arranged it does nothing amiss; we must trust Him, my daughter, that all will be well. I feel it is well; though sometimes the thought of your dear little face is almost too much for me. I will thank God I have had such a blessing so long, and I now commit my treasure to Him. It is an unspeakable comfort to me to do this, for nothing committed to his care is ever forgotten or neglected. Oh my daughter, never forget to pray; never slight it. It is almost my only refuge, now I have lost you, and it bears me up. How often-how often,-through years gone by,when heart-sick and faint,-I have fallen on my knees, and presently there have been as it were drops of cool water

sprinkled upon my spirit's fever. Learn to love prayer, dear Ellen, and then you will have a cure for all the sorrows of life. And keep this letter, that if ever you are like to forget it, your mother's testimony may come to mind again.

"My tea, that used to be so pleasant, has become a sad meal to me. I drink it mechanically and set down my cup, remembering only that the dear little hand which used to minister to my wants is near me no more. My child-my child!-words are poor to express the heart's yearnings,— my spirit is near you all the time.

"Your old gentleman has paid me several visits. The day after you went came some beautiful pigeons. I sent word back that you were no longer here to enjoy his gifts, and the next day he came to see me. He has shown himself very kind. And all this, dear Ellen, had for its immediate cause your proper and ladylike behaviour in the store. That thought has been sweeter to me than all the old gentleman's birds and fruit. I am sorry to inform you that though I have seen him so many times I am still perfectly ignorant of his

name.

"We set sail Monday in the England. Your father has secured a nice state-room for me, and I have a store of comforts laid up for the voyage. So next week you may imagine me out on the broad ocean, with nothing but sky and clouds and water be seen around me, and probably much too sick to look at those. Never mind that; the sickness is good for me. "I will write you as soon as I can again, and send by the first conveyance.

"And now my dear baby-my precious child-farewell. May the blessing of God be with you!

"Your affectionate mother,

"E. MONTGOMERY."

"You ought to be a good child, Ellen," said Alice, as she dashed away some tears. "Thank you for letting me see this; it has been a great pleasure to me."

"And now," said Ellen, "you feel as if you knew mamma a little."

"Enough to honour and respect her very much. Now good-by, my love; I must be at home before it is late. I will see you again before Christmas comes.

10

TO Ellen's sorrow she was pronounced next morning well

enough to come down stairs; her aunt averring that "it was no use to keep a fire burning up there for nothing." She must get up and dress in the cold again; and winter had fairly set in now; the 19th of December rose clear and keen. Ellen looked sighingly at the heap of ashes and the dead brands in the fireplace where the bright little fire had blazed so cheerfully the evening before. But regrets did not help the matter; and shivering she began to dress as fast as she could. Since her illness a basin and pitcher had been brought into her room, so the washing at the spout was ended for the present; and though the basin had no place but a chair, and the pitcher must stand on the floor, Ellen thought herself too happy. But how cold it was! The wind swept past her windows, giving wintry shakes to the panes of glass, and through many an opening in the wooden frame-work of the house it came in and saluted Ellen's bare arms and neck. She hurried to finish her dressing, and wrapping her doublegown over all, went down to the kitchen. It was another climate there. A great fire was burning that it quite cheered Ellen's heart to look at; and the air seemed to be full of coffee and buckwheat cakes; Ellen almost thought she should get enough breakfast by the sense of smell.

"Ah! here you are," said Miss Fortune. you got that thing on for?"

"What have

"It was so cold up stairs," said Ellen, drawing up her shoulders. The warmth had not got inside of her wrapper yet.

"Well, 'tain't cold here; you'd better pull it off right away. I've no notion of people's making themselves tender. You'll be warm enough directly. Breakfast 'll warm you."

Ellen felt almost inclined to quarrel with the breakfast that was offered in exchange for her comfortable wrapper; she pulled it off however and sat down without saying any thing. Mr. Van Brunt put some cakes on her plate.

"If breakfast's a going to warm you," said he, “make haste and get something down; or drink a cup of coffee; you're as blue as skim milk."

"Am I?” said Ellen laughing; "I feel blue; but I can't eat such a pile of cakes as that, Mr. Van Brunt."

As a general thing the meals at Miss Fortune's were silent solemnities; an occasional consultation, or a few questions and remarks about farm affairs, being all that ever passed. The breakfast this morning was a singular exception to the common rule.

“1 am in a regular quandary," said the mistress of the house, when the meal was about half over.

Mr. Van Brunt looked up for an instant, and asked" what about?"

"Why, how I am ever going to do to get those apples and sausage-meat done. If I go to doing 'em myself I shall

about get through by spring.'

Why don't you make a bee?" said Mr. Van Brunt.

"Ain't enough of either on 'em to make it worth while. I ain't a going to have all the bother of a bee without something to show for't."

"Turn 'em both into one," suggested her counsellor, going on with his breakfast.

"Both ?"

"Yes-let 'em pare apples in one room and cut pork in t'other."

"But I wonder who ever heard of such a thing before," said Miss Fortune, pausing with her cup of coffee half way to her lips. Presently, however, it was carried to her mouth, drunk off, and set down with an air of determination. "I don't care," said she, "if it never was heard of. I'll do it for once anyhow. I'm not one of them to care what folks say. I'll have it so! But I won't have 'em to tea, mind you; I'd rather throw apples and all into the fire at