Lucy would listen to some of the curious tales and anecdotes of bygone times with the deepest interest; and many a little lesson of thankfulness she learnt from the trials and hardships experienced by her old friend.

The poor dame's kitchen was always the pink of perfection, with its white, sanded floor, spotless furniture, and everything as neat as it possibly could be. She would tell her visitors with no little pride, that every scrap of the furniture, from the chest of drawers down to the footstool, had been made by her son's own hands. And it's not many as has a son like my Hugh.'

It was on this same footstool that Lucy usually took up her position. The volume placed on the table for her use was the Pilgrim's Progress,-a book so well known in every home, that you rarely miss it from the shelf. And well worthy is it of the honourable place assigned to it. There were only a very few pages of it left for this afternoon's portion; but Lucy was much struck by Mr. Valiant-for-Truth's discouragements and hindrances in his pilgrimage, and how in the end he confessed they all seemed as so many nothings to him,' his faith carrying him beyond them all.

'Dearie me, Miss, but that's prettily told,' said Nannie, as Lucy closed the book. 'And the best of it is, it's all true. Haven't we all to fight our way through this world? and a many lions there are to conquer; but by

God's will we'll cross the river some day, and enter the gate with joy, like Christian. Thank ye kindly, Miss Lucy; but bless your dear eyes, they must be wearied with the print.'

'No, Nannie, not a bit; they'll stand a good deal more than that.'

'Well, maybees: they're young, to be sure; but wait till you're my age, and then you'll find a difference. Dear, dear, it's a precious gift is sight, and we ought to make the most of it while we have it.'

'And now good-bye, Nannie, for I must hurry home to my lessons.'

'Good-bye, Miss, and God bless your kind heart,' was Nannie's parting benediction. And with the grateful words of the poor and needy sounding in her ears, and causing her heart to swell with gladness, the happy child sped home to her duties.

CHAPTER III.

Plans and Perplexities.

'Little sun upon the ceiling,
Ever moving, ever stealing

Moments, minutes, hours away;

May no shade forbid thy shining,

While the heavenly sun declining

Calls us to improve the day.'-WATTS.

UCY'S head was full of visions of a busy, use

ful life when she entered the room, where

her mother sat with a large pile of stockings before her, mending and darning as fast as she could.

How quickly you get over them, mother!' said Lucy, as she watched the needle flying out and in. 'Don't you tire of it?'

'That wouldn't mend the stockings,' said Mrs. Mason, smiling.

เ Oh no, of course not, mamma; but I mean I might help you, there are so many of them.'

'Well, that is a practical way of disposing of the difficulty; but I can quite well do them myself, love, and you must rest yourself before Miss Graham comes.'

Lucy threw off her hat on to the table; she longed to discuss the subject uppermost in her thoughts, only she did not know very well how to begin, even to her mother. The plans that were floating through her brain were so very new and vague, that she feared they might be set aside as useless, and she did wish so very much to put them into execution.

'Then, mamma, I shall have a chat with you. I have so much to tell you, and ask you.'

'You know I am always ready to listen to you, darling, and I hoped you would have something to say to me when you came back from the cottage.'

'Oh then, mamma, you know what I am going to say, do you?'

'I can only have a guess, Lucy. I hoped that the sight of the orphan and her destitute condition would rouse your sympathies in her behalf.'

Lucy threw her arms round her mother's neck; her work seemed so easy now.

'Oh manıma, dearest, how good of you! Then you'll let me have Bessie to be my very own little girl.'

'I am not at all sure that I can dispose of her altogether in that way,' said Mrs. Mason, smiling at her daughter's impulsiveness.

'Oh but, mamma, I mean that you'll let me do what I am going to ask you; won't you?'