was Pamah-pep. No one knew why she gave it this queer name, or where she found it.

When at play, she would often speak out, "Go away! Pamah-pep, go away!" as if something was trying to make her naughty.

Sometimes, when she was doing any thing wrong, she would say, "It was not little-ee Gratia. It was Pamah-pep!" When her mother asked what she meant by Pamah, she would reply, "He came to make me be naughty."

She used this singular name until she was able to read and understand, that there was indeed an evil spirit abroad in the earth to tempt not only little children, but men and women to do wrong. After Gratia was able to read the Bible, she would repeat the words of our Saviour, when he was tempted, "Get thee behind me, Satan."

While she was yet quite young, and

before she could read, the Bible was read to her, with many other books; and she was so delighted to listen, that much of her time was spent in this way.

She was so attentive when her little story-books were read to her, that often after she had heard them two or three times, she would take the book, and with correctness repeat the story as if she was reading it, making appropriate pauses, and putting every word in its place.

CHAPTER II.

Ir was quite an advantage, beside being very pleasant, for Gratia to be able to repeat so well from memory. I will show you why. One day, Rev. Mr. Knapp, an aged minister living in the town where Gratia resided, called at her father's house. It happened to be at a time when Gratia had many of her little books about. While there, he asked her if she would read to him. She immediately answered his request by taking up an almanac and turning to the story of "The Buried Child," written by a missionary. She commenced reading, at the same time placing her finger underneath the line, and following with it each word as she pronounced it. Every word was spoken and every pause made correctly,

Mr. Knapp overlooking her all the while. When she had finished, Mr. Knapp, looking at her as if thinking she were too young to read so well, said, “Why, Gratia, you are a very fine reader."

He was greatly surprised on learning from her mother that she did not know a letter. Now, my little readers, how do you suppose Gratia could read so well, and not know her letters? If you will listen thoughtfully and carefully, I will tell you, for I fear you will not be able to guess. When her mother read to her, she gave all her attention to the story: she was not thinking of her kitten, or her new doll; or of any of her playthings. Her thoughts were all upon the story, and this is why she was able to repeat it so exactly.

She was but three years old at this time; you are six, seven and eight, and some of you are nine and ten years old, perhaps, yet I fear you do not remember

so well as she, even when you read the story yourself. I wish you to read this so carefully, that you can tell me all about it, when you have read it only twice.

It was my happy lot to live by the side of Gratia's home for nearly three years, and I saw her often-almost every day.

I was then not more than twelve years old, but her conduct and conversation made a lasting impression upon my mind. One feature in her character I ever looked upon with silent admiration, and it still brings her memory back to my heart with a most sacred charm. My admiration then was childish, but now I reflect with older thoughts and wonder at her most perfect obedience. I never knew her disobey in a single instance, and her mother tells me she can call to mind but one instance where there was any inclination to disobey.