al rows of these cottages, but Adelaide
Row, in which the Heedmans lived, was certainly the best in appearance.
It was farthest from the mines, and was sheltered from the coal dust by
its less fortunate neighbours. The houses looked cleaner and brighter
altogether, and the little gardens flourished better.

John Heedman's garden was the pride of his heart, and the admiration and
envy of the rest of "the Row." It certainly did look very gay and
pretty. There were bright China-asters, sweet-scented stocks, French
marigolds, rose bushes laden with blossoms, little clusters of
candytuft, Virginia-stock, mignonette, and many other flowers,
contrasting well in colour, and grouped in such good taste.

If John Heedman took a pride in his garden, Mrs. Heedman certainly took
a pride in her house. Not that their furniture was more expensive than
that of many of their neighbours, but it was in good order and neatly
arranged. Nice white curtains were up at the windows; a few
sweet-smelling flowers stood in a glass; and in a corner were some
bookshelves, made and painted by John Heedman himself, after work-hours,
and very well stocked with good books; altogether there was an air of
cleanliness, comfort, and refinement over all that made you wish to know
the owners.

Mrs. Heedman often said in answer to her neighbours' remarks "that she
must spend a deal of money over her house."--"It costs me nothing but a
little thought and extra work. The poorest of us may indulge in order
and cleanliness indeed, when you come to think of it, dirt and disorder
cost the most, because your furniture gets soiled, and knocked about,
and destroyed."

After Mrs. Heedman left Charlie, she began to prepare her husband's tea
in the next room; and nicely she looked, as she moved lightly about in
her clean light-print dress and white collar, her dark hair smoothly and
plainly arranged, and a smile on her face. It was a face that made you
look twice. Her eyes were so calm, so full of peace, you felt
instinctively it was that peace which God alone can give. Some people
do not believe that Christianity can make them happy; that is, because
they have never felt it in their hearts. It is a peace which passeth all
understanding. She was thinking of Charlie; how he would learn to love
her, and please God; what a scholar he would be, and how carefully she
would train him. She was trying to picture what he would be like if he
lived to grow up, when John Heedman op