that morning and the next sitting on that rock by the elm tree yonder, ladies; she had a pencil in her hand, and a big book on her lap, and a paper on it; and the second morning Peggy heard her humming some songs to herself, and she crept close to her: the silly thing would any time leave her breakfast for an end of a song. I saw the young lady noticed Peggy, and then I made bold to walk up to her; and will you believe me, ladies! she had been picturing on her paper this little hut and the half withered tree, and that old bench with my washtub turned up on it, and my old cow, as she stands eating her morning mess, and Peggy stroking her! and I could not but ask her why she did not choose to draw out some of the nice houses in the village with two chimnies, and a square roof to them, and a pretty fence to the dooryard, and the straight tall poplars; but she smiled, and said this suited her fancy better;' and then she began talk.

ing to me of Peggy, and when she found she was quite blind, she just laid down her pencil and her book and all, and took the child in her lap, and said, 'something must be done for her;' and when she said so, the tears stood in her blue eyes; and God knows, I never saw tears so becoming; and from that time, ladies, she came every morning, and sate here three or four hours, teaching Peggy to sew, and learning her hymns and songs."

"Caroline, Caroline, do you hear that?" asked Mr. Redwood, impetuously. "Lord, papa, I am not deaf-certainly I hear."

"Go on, good woman," said Mr. Redwood.

"The child's quickness, Sir," continued the aunt, "seemed a miracle to me; for, God forgive me, I had never thought of her learning anything. Peggy, get those bags you made that Miss Ellen said you might sell."

The child instantly produced the bags,

which were made of pieces of calico very neatly sewn together. Caroline interrupted the story while she bargained with the little girl for the bags, for which she paid her most munificently.

The aunt seemed more sensible of the extent of Miss Redwood's generosity than the child, for she was voluble in her thanks; and then proceeded to say that Miss Ellen, not satisfied with doing so much, brought Doctor Bristol to look at Peggy's eyes. "Doctor Bristol," she said, "had come to live in Eton since she had given up Peggy's eyes as quite gone, and therefore she had never shown the child to him. But Doctor Bristol had learned some new fashioned ways that other doctors in the country knew nothing about, and as soon as he looked at the child, he said one of the eyes might be restored. Then poor Peggy was so frightened with the thought of an operation, and I could do nothing with her, for I had always let her have her own

way; for who, ladies, could have the heart to cross a blind child? but Miss Ellen, God bless her, could always make her mind without crossing her, for she loves Miss Ellen better than any thing on earth, or in heaven either, I fear me; and she would liken her to strawberries and roses, and every thing that was most pleasant to the senses the poor thing had left-and she would say that her voice was sweeter than the music of the birds, or the sound of the waters breaking on the shore, when a gentle breeze came over the lake of a still evening, for that was the sound she loved best of all, and would listen to it sometimes for an hour together without speaking or moving."

It seemed that Miss Redwood's patience could no longer brook the minute and excursive style of the narrator, as she proposed to Mrs. Westall in a whisper, that they should cut the woman's never-ending story short and pursue their ride. Mrs. Westall acquiesced, with a

'just as you please, my dear;' but Mr. Redwood, guessing the purport of his daughter's whisper, interposed with a request in a low voice, that she would not prolong their delay by interrupting the good woman's story, as the pain in his arm warned him that it was time for him to return; then turning to the aunt, he asked her "how she brought the girl finally to consent to the operation ?"

"Oh, it was Miss Ellen that made her consent, and she would only do it by promising that she would stay by her and hold her head. God knows I could not have done it, well as I love her, to have saved her eyes, for I was all in a shiver when I saw the doctor fix her by that window, and Miss Ellen stood behind her, and Peggy leaned her head back on to Miss Ellen's breast, and one of Miss Ellen's hands was on the child's forehead, and the other under her chin, and she looked, God bless her, as white as marble, and as beautiful as an angel. I had