Mr. Weston, to imitate his own style of speaking, was right in some respects. Some of the rich forsook them; others treated them with increased respect and attention. Ruth, whose opinion ought not to be neglected, said, after they were all arranged, that she did not see what they wanted of more money; that enough was as good as a feast; and that, as far as she knew of such things, she had observed that great gains and great pains went together.

Calmly and cheerfully, and with a holy trust, that, whether she lived or died, it would be well with her, Amy met her trying hour; and, as has been before mentioned, she became the joyful mother of a living child. With a yet more solemn earnestness than they had ever before felt, did these happy parents consecrate themselves anew to God, as, with tears of joyful love, they thanked him for this unspeakable blessing.

"What system do you mean to follow, in educating your daughter?" said Edward, one day; "authority or reason - persuasion or force? What punishments have you already planned? What great book shall you keep on your work-table, all ready to refer to?"

"The punishments," replied Amy, laughing, "I shall leave to you. Suppose we make a plan, as the children make stories, as we go along? One thing we will surely do, Edward; study this exquisite instrument before we play upon it. The great book of nature, with its living pictures, is always open, and we will teach her to read in it with us; and from the book of life, the word of God, we will gather, day by day, lessons, which, even before she can find them there herself, if we are but faithful, her heart will read in our example. This is my system."

In answer to Edward's letter, informing Mr. Roberts of the birth of their child, he received a letter from him, telling him of the death of his father, and the dangerous illness of his wife. Anxiously and with an aching heart did Amy open every letter from New York, till that came, giving the blessed news of the safety of her friend, and of her restoration to reason.

The weeks passed rapidly, and Fanny's letter arrived, saying she was well enough to see her friend, and urging her to come immediately. A short postscript was added to it, requesting Amy to bring all the letters which

she had received from her since her residence in New York.

All Amy's arrangements for leaving home were made, and Ruth had come to receive her parting directions, as the next day was to make her sole manager.

"Are you not afraid, ma'am, to go to-morrow?" said Ruth, with a portentous look. “Why, Ruth, should I fear going to-morrow?"

"You know it says in the almanac, that there will be an eclipse of the sun."

"Then I shall have a fine opportunity of seeing it, in the steam-boat. Why, Ruth, should we fear an eclipse?"

"I am no coward, ma'am. I have lived too long in the woods to be scared at an owl; but I never saw any good come of eclipses, or comets neither; and I do feel a kind o' chicken-hearted about your going, Mrs. Selmar, that's a fact; and I shall feel dreadful lonesome without you and the dear babe."

Amy replied, that they should return in a few days. She gave her some further directions, and told her that she had nothing more "I know you will take good care of

to say.

my father, Ruth. I trust all to you."

Ruth still lingered. It was evident she

had something weighing heavily on her mind. At last, she took courage, and began.

"There is something else that I feel rather ugly about, ma'am. I wanted just to speak a word to you about it before you went; but I am afraid you'll think it ridiculous." "What is it, Ruth?" said Amy, very kindly.

66

Why, ma'am," said Ruth, hanging her head one side, and pulling out her fingers, one after another, to their full length, “you know the old saying, There's ne'er a Jack without a Jill; and Jerry has somehow or other thrown dust in my eyes, so that I don't see but what, for want of a better, I may about as well take up with him for a beau."

Amy found it hard to keep her countenance during this explanation.

"Do you mean, Ruth, that you intend to marry Jerry?"

"I know it seems ridiculous, ma'am; but I have, if the upshot of it must be told, come to the conclusion, that I might go further, and fare worse; and I have as good as told Jerry so."

"But, do you love Jerry, Ruth?”

"Why, I guess I kind o' love him. I tell him that bad's the best of the men-folks;

but I rather guess I set more by him than by any other of his species, though he is so short."

"But, are you sure, Ruth, that you shall be happier with Jerry than you are with me? Do you love him enough to trust yourself to him?"

"Why, ma'am, nothing in life is certain but death; but I feel sure enough for my own satisfaction; and, you know, nothing venture, nothing have. The long and the short of it is, if you approve, I expect I shall marry Jerry."

"I shall certainly be sorry to lose you, Ruth; but, if you are really attached to Jerry, and feel sure that you will be happier with him, I shall be very glad for your sake. But a woman ought to be very cautious to whom she binds herself for life."

"Yes, ma'am," said Ruth. "I have always thought that the girls who marry, as some of our girls do, your outlandish foreigners, who have no manners, were served right for their folly; but Jerry is one of our own folks."

"It seems to me, Ruth," said Amy, "I have heard you laugh at Jerry."

"That, ma'am, is one way I try whether a beau suits me. If he won't let me have