VOL. XIX.

Anna Weston was an assistant teacher in the Kindergarten of the College Settlements. She had achieved great success, but on account of her ill health the physicians advised her to go into the country to regain her normal condition that she might resume her work. She had not a parental home, with arms of parennial love to encircle her in this hour of frustration. Somewhere she had read, "Before the power of a mighty resolve the hardest walls of difficulty must weaken," and then Harriet Beecher Stowe had said, she could not remember exactly the words, but the gist of the saying was, "Whenever things are hard and you think you cannot endure any longer, hold on, for that is the very place that the tide will turn." It was like a tonic to her tired nerves, and she resolved to adopt domestic duties.

She was offered a position as housekeeper for a Mr. Frost and two sons in the country. This avenue seemed providentially brought to view, and, as she thought it was opened by the hand of Providence, she exchanged references and journeyed there very sanguine of restoring her health by exercise, coun try food and air.

It was a gray, dismal day in October. The rain poured incessantly. Mr. Frost piloted her to her home-his home, from the depot, and retreating, said, "I have the noon train and shall not be in again until three o'clock." He had been a conductor of the N. Y., N. H. & H. R. R. for a number of years.

No. 7.

As she watched his train glide out of the station she thought, "I must interest myself in that work as well as the home."

Just then the boys entered from school; the older one introducing himself by saying, "Do you like dogs? Are you 'fraid of guns?" The younger one stood with arms akimbo, and after a long, wistful gaze, sweetly said, "I-Iam glad to see you." Her whole being seemed penetrated by that childish expression.

Somebody, in the form of a lonely heart of a little child, was glad to see her-a child bereft of that tender mother-love. She watched them going off to school with love kindling within her for these boys, who were given under her care, to train along, the first roads to manhood.

Now that they had all gone out she felt a strange homesickness coming on her, and she gave vent to her feelings by a "good cry." When Mr. Frost returned he found her curled upon her Saratoga, weeping bitterly. The tearful face did not freeze him, for he understood how one must feel to lose health, position, and to miss the dear faces of their many friends. The rainy day did not add warmth to her chilled spirits. At length Mr. Frost remarked, "Cheer up-open the piano and cheer us. We are lonely, too." Inspired by his kind words, she at once began a regular routine of work, having a "day for everything, and everything in its day." The winter came and went, teeming

with happy hours. Already the pussywillows were nodding by the gurgling brooks. The boys now left their books and piano for outdoor sports. John, the older, built a dog-house and painted it green. A strip of canvas formed the door, through which little dog Buster might dodge in and out at will. Then he excavated a well and lowered a water pail, which he filled with water every day. He attached a wire to the huge old apple tree which sheltered the little house, thence across to the cottage.

He fastened a chain to Buster's collar, which reached to the wire, so that he could trot from his house to the doorstep, where he would salute invaders with his houndish bow-wow-wow. His green house was situated in a green spot so that Anna laughingly termed it, "Little Ireland."

One bright summer's morning Mr. Frost unchained him so he could take his morning run. He was frolicking on the bridge and did not hear the locomotive thundering along the track, and it struck the little dog, knocking him into the river below. He only lived to swim ashore. John did not weep. That would not become a high school student, but Anna found in John's room a little collar and chain hanging on the wall, suggestive of tender memories of the little white dog.

Mr. Frost did not like to see the empty house without the little white figure running in and out, so he had it removed to the back orchard and transformed into a chicken coop, and with a beautiful brood of chickens hopping here and there it lost the sad appearance it had been wont to bear.

John was too sensible to dwell on the unpleasant things of life and sought other amusements. He bought a white canoe and left it in the orchard until he was ready to launch it in the river below. One day in looking it over he found a leak in it, and left it there, 'discouraged with his undertakings. How the roses bloomed above it! How the tall grass grew around it!

Bye-and-bye an old hen thought it safely moored and strutted in under it, leaving a beautiful nest of eggs. Anna

had been wondering where the black hen had stolen her nest.

One baking day she needed one more egg and went to the lady in the other side of the house to borrow one. She met her coming to borrow one from her. She too, was in the same predicament. She had gotten the ingredients together in the large yellow bowl and was minus an egg. So they sat down on the doorsteps, laughing merrily. They decided to wait for the hens to lay.

Suddenly from under the canoe came the welcome sound, "cut-cut-caw-cut," and 'twas hard to tell which won the race to get there first, but they found a dozen eggs. The old black hen cackled all the louder to think she had laid her last egg without being disturbed. Anna and Jennie ran like school girls back to the cake board, declaring the eggs were made to order.

It was an ancient cottage embowered in an amaranth of roses and vines, and Anna appreciated these beautiful flowers, the "robins' sweet refrain," the sunny days and the kind hearts of her cottage home. She went each morning to cut roses for the sick, church or home. She didn't look like the pale person that came in the fall. A well-tanned face peeped from under "an old straw hat, with a great broad rim," and she said to herself, "I am ever so glad I came into the country. It is doing me great good! I am very happy." Just then her soliloquy was interrupted by a messenger boy who passed her a yellow slip of paper which read, "G. J. FrostYou will be changed to the Norton run, beginning work Saturday. Orders to move before that time."

The telegram fell from her trembling hand to the ground beside her basket of clipped roses. That message was for Mr. Frost, but it seemed to voice different words to her. Another transformation scene on a larger scale than Buster's dog house was paramount in her mind. The time had come to put forth her sterling nature, to smooth the rough edges of this trying ordeal into which they were about to enter. She thought, "I have put my shoulder to the wheel, and I shall not turn back." A strong