again and again, with a fervency which was quite touching; but when she mentioned the matter to Aunt Prissie, she begged that she might hear no more of such nonsense, as it was quite out of the question, for she was not the last fit for it. But I was resolved in my own heart that she should go if possible; so I consulted my father, and he gave me leave to break through any or all of Aunt Prissie's restrictions, only laughingly telling me, I must be content to suffer in a good cause, and not mind being thoroughly scolded if I was found out.' I agreed, and determined to make my attempt by first of all getting Aunt Phoebe out of doors. And really sometimes I almost despaired of ever accomplishing even that, so tender was her conscience about disobeying her sister. At last, one lovely summer day, I brought her a bonnet and shawl of poor Aunt Dorothea's, and put them on, and almost dragged her out of her prison. But she trembled so much, that she would never have got down the stairs without my father's arm; and what with her terror and agitation lest Aunt Prissie should suddenly return and find her out; and what with being overpowered by the sweet breath of the flowers and the fresh air, to which she had been so long a stranger, she sank down on a bench opposite the front door, and exclaimed, 'Oh, Frederick, I cannot bear it ; I am not so strong as I thought I was; Prissie knows best after all. I will just rest here a moment and then go in.'

But I begged and prayed her to take one turn first, and promised to watch at the sweep-gate, and call out the moment I saw Aunt Prissie, and my father joined me in persuading her; and so she suffered herself to be led up and down for about ten minutes. The whole affair did not occupy one quarter of an hour, but what a momentous event it was in the monotony of her life! She was back in her own room, and lying tranquilly on her sofa two hours before Aunt Prissie returned. After that, we coaxed her out every day, until at last she became so eager for

lk, that a wet afternoon made her quite unhappy. delightful to see her enjoyment in the birds and , and all the loveliness of summer from which she een so long separated. She seemed to drink the air and expand in the sunshine like some halfd sickly plant. She would sit or walk about in a e too deep for many words, and every now and breathe a sigh of exquisite happiness, and say at last, Hattie, it is like being in Heaven! It was wonderow she seemed to improve in health and strength; es brightened, and her cheeks grew pink with a as lovely and delicate as ever tinted them in youth, omething of their natural coral returned to the lips had been white so long. My father and I agreed she looked twenty years younger; even Aunt Prissie truck with the change, and exclaimed one day, after mplating her with great satisfaction, Upon my , Phoebe, I think that new decoction we have been g is doing wonders; I do believe I have hit on the thing at last. Don't you feel better?' Yes, indeed I do,' Aunt Phoebe replied.

So much hat I am thinking of going to church next Sunday.' Next Sunday!' Aunt Prissie exclaimed; ' perhaps you go next summer if you continue improving, but I not have you playing tricks with yourself, I can tell

However I shall have a fine triumph over Dr. , who often talks to me about you, and laughed tily when I told him what I was giving you. Ah, I he will be convinced now that I know rather more 1 he thinks I do.'

t did not seem the moment to inform her of the real se of the change, just when she was pluming herself the virtue of her new decoction; so we let it pass, that might enjoy her triumph over Dr. Ford. As Aunt cebe said, it would be time enough to tell her when nday really came.'

It did come as usual, but not before she had once or twice walked with me to the church on a week-day, that everything, as she said, 'might not seem so strange to her." And once I took her into the school, that she might see something of her fellow-creatures, from whom she had been so long separated. It was pleasant to watch the timid kindly glances with which she looked at the chi dren; and when she came away she asked me, with a sweet humility which brought the tears to my eyes. · Do you think, dear, that I could ever teach them anything? Just the very little ones. I know I have never had as much sense as other people, but if there were any poor child very dull and incapable of learning, I think I might help her. I know so well what dulness is, that I am sure I should be patient. It would be such a new interest for me, if you thought me fit for it.'

I think her fit for it! Oh, Aunty!' I exclaimed ; 'when you talk in that way, you make me feel so ashamed of myself. If goodness is wisdom, then I am sure you are wiser than the wisest, and fitter to teach than the most learned.' And all the way back we made a pleasant little plan of how she should begin by having a small class of children at home, for I thought being so unused to the noise of many tongues, it might be too much for her at present to teach in the school. We were so busy talking, that we never heard Aunt Prissie's sharp quick step behind, until she actually overtook us. Her start and shriek of astonishment made me laugh; but Aunt Phoebe laid her hand affectionately on her arm, and said, 'Dear Prissie, pray forgive me. I confess I have been a sad hypocrite of late, playing at being ill, when all the time I have been so well and strong. You must not be angry, but I have been out every day for the last month. Look at me and see how much better I am for it.'

But Aunt Prissie could look at her bright happy face and turn sullenly away, and answer, in a hurt offended

Oh! I am sure I am very glad you are so strong; must say you might as well have told me how much I was doing than was needful, and not let me go on g and slaving and waiting upon you, when you were e time as capable of waiting on yourself as I am.' was a shame in me,' Aunt Phoebe meekly answered. dear Prissie, your long kind care is come to an end. he dine with you all to-day, and come down to breakto-morrow, and don't take any more trouble about I am really going to church on Sunday. You know m strong enough to go out, it would not be right in refrain from going there.'

unt Prissie did not say much in reply; she was very and snappish, but still she did not seem as much put s we had expected; and as for the going to church, only replied, "If you will go, you must; but do not ect me to sanction such folly.'

when Sunday came she disappeared after dinner, out even one injunction to Aunt Phoebe to wrap elf properly up. I was very glad, for I wanted to keep dear aunt as quiet as possible, and not to have anyone eting about her, and making her more nervous and exd than she was already. Indeed, when it came to the t, she was trembling so much, that, but for my father's , I doubt if she would have been able to get there; I when at last she was safely ensconced in the pew, and ould look at her, I could see the throb of her heart ough her shawl, and the heat drops standing on her w, and began to fear that the effort was, in truth, behd her strength. But the tears which rolled over her shed cheeks seemed to relieve her, and gradually she med down, and her face resumed its usual peaceful inquil expression, and the quivering mouth settled into serene smile of thankfulness, which reminded me of the lemn sweetness of that smile which I had once seen on y dead mother's lips. We had gone early that she VOL. 14. PART 84.

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might have time to recover her composure, and just before my father began the service, our attention was attracted by a little unusual noise at the porch; and. looking up, we saw Aunt Prissie helping poor old Dr. Ford out of the wheeled chair in which he always went about, into the church, and up the nave to his own pew. She had never done so any other Sunday, his servant Laving always waited upon him; and I had a little difficulty in suppressing a smile, as I thought that he was to be her pet patient now instead of Aunt Phoebe, and I thought so all the more when, the service being over, she bustled out of her corner without even one glance at her sister, and hurried up to him to help him into his chair. There was such an odd look in her face, half defiance, and half a sort of embarrassment, as if she did not quite like what she was determined to do. She certainly took Aunt Phoebe's recovery in quite a different manner from what we had anticipated. She did not give us a scolding all round as we had expected; but she screwed up her mouth as if she were keeping something in very tight, and scarcely allowed herself to speak more than a Yes or a No to any body. I am sure, in the course of that week she was in and out of the house twenty times in a day, always going out with her mysterious errand-basket stuffed full, and returning with it empty. I tried all I could to make her more communicative, and Aunt Phoebe, who thought everything strange, was anger with her, took every op portunity of speaking to her with the most winning tenderness, trying in all she said to show what a grateful sense she had of her past services; but Aunt Prissie was not to be moved to open her mouth until the right time came. It came one Tuesday morning after breakfast: 58 usual Aunt Prissie had eaten hers in a grim silence. She had taken up her bag and keys preparatory to leaving the room, but when she reached the door she paused, and without looking round, said in a queer kind of voice,