kitchen echoed through the house almost with a touch of sadness. Day was dawning: the faint grey light, struggling through the window, found Miriam still in heart communion.

almost wning: gh the

t com.

II.

The Hour in the Library.

AYS passed: Miriam's face wore a look of meek resignation, of chastened sorrow, most touching to see on so youthful a countenance. Her grief

for her mother was as sincere as on the day of her burial; she still cherished her memory as sacred. Though a cloud often settled upon her heart, it was not suffered to dim the bright eye, chase away the sweet smile, or check the flow of cheerful, loving words. Ah! no; for the sake of those she loved, she bore her sorrow bravely. She lived not for herself; her mission on earth was to comfort others.

Her father was sadly changed: from the resolute, over-bearing man, he had become selfish, moody, and morose. He seemed

wrapt up in self; his children were unnoticed, and all their efforts to please him passed unrewarded even by a smile. He pursued the daily routine of his business as before: the day was passed in a neighboring city, and the evening in the library at home, and alone.

Miriam had loved her mother better than all the world beside, and now her warm affections clung to the "little ones," as she fondly called them. She loved her father, too, because he was her father, and tried to bring the light to his eye and the smile to his lips again; but in vain were all her endeavors. How she longed to throw her arms around his neck, and rest her throbbing head upon his bosom, for one word of consolation, one approving smile, to know that she discharged her many duties faithfully! "Oh! my mother!" was the cry that went up to heaven from her over-burdened heart. After a day of more than ordinary trial, she would steal into the room that contained

her mother's portrait: the calm, sweet face would seem to whisper "Peace." She remembered her mother's last prayer, and found comfort in "looking to Jesus."

Minnie was housekeeper, everything was under her supervision; rather inexperienced, 'tis true, but she possessed a strong will, and every day the obstacles became less. A good-natured Irish girl flourished in the kitchen she was a true daughter of Erin, and, with her strong arms and willing heart, she saved" Miss Minnie" many anxious thoughts. Minnie did all the mending; and often, when the large basket of clean clothes was brought into the sitting-room, she would look at the pile with a sinking heart.

One day Sophie noticed it, and, bringing her work-box, said, "Now, sister Minnie, let me mend too, you look so tired! I want to assist you, you do so much for us," said she, caressing her, "and we never help you at all."

"Don t you love me?"

"Indeed we do, better than any one else in

the world."

66

That is all the pay I ask!"

"But there is another way of showing it;give me those stockings, and I will try and make them wearable."

Her fingers flew busily for a while.

"Is love good wages?" she asked, archly. "The very best," was the smiling answer. There was a pause.

"Order is Heaven's first law,' isn't it?" asked Sophie.

"Yes!" said her sister, smiling again.

Well, then, shouldn't there be order in all the family arrangements?"

Certainly," but this time Minnie sighed. "I know you do as well as you can, Minnie," said Sophie quickly, "but don't you think that if each of us had separate duties to perform at stated times, we could do more, and without so much confusion?"

"Well said, my little preacher; are you sure that's original?"