'You seem to think I am only a bale of

goods,' said Emily, laughing.

'Well, you are not to exert yourself too much at first. Mother told me I must be very careful about you, because I am so strong, and not expect you could do anything like me at first.'

'Well, I think I shall try to help myself down,' said Emily; 'it was only foolish nonsense that made me afraid. I can hold to that ladder as well as you, if I only choose.'

'To be sure. It is the best way, because, if one feels that way, one can't fall.'

Emily had never done so much for herself before, and she felt a new sensation in doing it -a new feeling of power over herself; and she began to think how much better the lively, active, energetic life of her young friend was, than her own miserable, dawdling existence hitherto.

K 2

The two girls took a very pleasant drive that morning. First to mill, where Pussy left a bag of corn to be ground into meal, and where Emily saw, for the first time, the process of making flour. Emily admired the little cascade, with its foamy fall of dark water, that turned the old, black, dripping mill-wheel; she watched, with somewhat awestruck curiosity, the great whirling stones that were going round and round, and the golden stream of meal that was falling from them. She noticed all along on the road that everybody knew Pussy, and had a smile and a word for her.

'O, here ye be!' said the old miller; 'why, I'm glad to see ye; it's as good as sunshine any day to see you a comin'. And, in return, Pussy had inquiries for everybody's health, and for all their employments and interests.

So the first day passed in various little country scenes and employments, and when

Emily came to go to bed at night, although she felt very tired, she found that she had thought a great deal less of her ailments and troubles that day than common. She had eaten her meals with a wonderful appetite, and, before she knew it, at night was sound asleep.

XIII.

ELL, my dear girls, who read this story, I want now just to ask you,

seriously and soberly, which you

would rather be, as far as our story has gone on-little Miss Pussy Willow, or little Miss Emily Proudie?

Emily had, to be sure, twice or three times as much of all the nice things you ever heard of to make a girl happy as little Pussy Willow; she had more money, a larger and more beautiful house, more elegant clothes, more brilliant jewellery-and yet of what use were these so long as she did not enjoy them?

And why didn't she enjoy them? My dear

little girl, can you ever remember, on a Christmas or Thanksgiving day, eating so much candy, ice-cream, and other matters of that nature, that your mouth had a bitter taste in it, and you loathed the very sight of cake or preserves, or anything sweet? What earthly good did it do, when you felt in that way, for you to be seated at a table glittering with candy pyramids? You could not look at them without disgust.

Now all Emily's life had been a candy pyramid. Ever since she was a little girl, her eyes had been dazzled, and her hands filled with every pretty thing that father, mother, aunts, uncles, and grandmothers could get for her, so that she was all her time kept in this state of weariness by having too much. Then everything had always been done for her, so that she had none of the pleasures which the good God meant us to have in the use of our own powers and faculties. Pussy Willow enjoyed