yourself for some time past."

"How could I, ma'am?" Polly's voice trembled and her eyes again filled
with tears. "I never meant to displease you; but----"

"All is explained," said I, interrupting her. "I see just how it is;
and if I have said a word that hurt you, I am sorry for it. No one
could have given better satisfaction in a family than you have given."

"I have always tried to do right," murmured the poor girl, sadly.

"I know it, Polly." My tones were encouraging. "And if you will forget
the unkind way in which I spoke to you this morning, and let things
remain as they were, it may be better for both of us. You are not fit,
taking your state of mind as it now is, to go among strangers."

Polly looked at me with gratitude and forgiveness in her wet eyes.
There was a motion of reply about her lips, but she did not trust
herself to speak.

"Shall it be as it was, Polly?"

"Oh, yes, ma'am! I don't wish to leave you; and particularly, not now.
I am not fit, as you say, to go among strangers. But you must bear with
me a little; for I can't always keep my thoughts about me."

When Polly retired from my room, I set myself to thinking over what had
happened. The lesson went deeply into my heart. Poor girl! what a heavy
burden rested upon her weak shoulders. No wonder that she bent under
it! No wonder that she was changed! She was no subject for angry
reproof; but for pity and forbearance. If she had come short in
service, or failed to enter upon her daily tasks with the old
cheerfulness, no blame could attach to her, for the defect was of force
and not of will.

"Ah," said I, as I pondered the matter, "how little inclined are we to
consider those who stand below us in the social scale, or to think of
them as having like passions, like weaknesses, like hopes and fears
with ourselves. We deal with them too often as if they were mere
working machines, and grow impatient if they show signs of pain,
weariness, or irritation. We are quick to blame and slow to
praise--chary of kind words, but voluble in reproof--holding ourselves
superior in station, but not always showing ourselves superior in
thoughtfulness, self-control, and kind forbearance. Ah me! Life is a
lesson-book, and we turn a new page every day."

XI.

MY FATHER.

_I HAVE_ a very early recollection of my father as a cheerful man, and
of our home as a place full of the heart's warmest sunshine. But the
father of my childhood and the father