ne or two from Whittier's poem,
which I always thought one of the loveliest in the world, and this
seemed almost the realization of it. Miss Cynthia asked me wistfully,
"Is that in a book?" I told her yes, and that she should have it next
time I came up, or had a chance of sending it. "I've seen a good many
pieces of poetry that Mr. Whittier wrote," said she. "I've got some
that I cut out of the paper a good while ago. I think everything of
'em."

"I put the black on the hives myself," said she. "It was for mother,
you know. She did it when father died. But when my brother was lost,
we didn't, because we never knew just when it was; the schooner was
missing, and it was a good while before they give her up."

"I wish we had some neighbours in sight," said she once. "I'd like to
see a light when I look out after dark. Now, at my aunt's, over to
Eliot, the house stands high, and when it's coming dark you can see all
the folks lighting up. It seems real sociable."

We lingered a little while under the apple-trees, and watched the wise
little bees go and come; and Miss Cynthia told me how much Georgie was
like his grandfather, who was so steady and quiet, and always right
after his business. "He never was ugly to us, as I know of," said she;
"but I was always sort of 'fraid of father. Hannah, she used to talk
to him free's she would to me; and he thought, 's long's Hannah did any
thing, it was all right. I always held by my mother the most; and when
father was took sick,--that was in the winter,--I sent right off for
Hannah to come home. I used to be scared to death, when he'd want any
thing done, for fear I shouldn't do it right. Mother, she'd had a
fall, and couldn't get about very well. Hannah had good advantages.
She went off keeping school when she wasn't but seventeen, and she
saved up some money, and boarded over to the Port after a while, and
learned the tailoress trade. She was always called very smart,--you
see she's got ways different from me; and she was over to the Port
several winters. She never said a word about it, but there was a young
man over there that wanted to keep company with her. He was going out
first mate of a new ship that was building. But, when she got word
from me about father, she come right home, and that was the end of it.
It seemed to be a pity. I used to think perhaps he'd come and see her
some time, between voyages, and that he'd get to be cap'n, and they'd
go off