body agrees to call her Sally Sunbeam instead of Sally
Brown.

[Illustration: {A monkey is in the window behind Aunt Thankful}]

AUNT THANKFUL.

She was our school teacher, a little bit of a woman, hardly larger
than a good-sized doll. She had moved into our village years before I
was born; for so I heard the folks say, I don't know how many times.
Nobody seemed to know where she came from. She had no relatives--at
least, none called to see her or to visit her. Once or twice, as I
grew older, I heard dark hints whispered about Aunt Thankful, about
her having left her early home to get away from unpleasant memories,
but no whisper against her character. She was a good woman, a
Christian woman--only the people called her _odd_.

But everybody loved her. In sickness or health, in trouble or joy, in
prosperity or adversity, everybody was sure they could depend upon
assistance and sympathy, if needed, from Aunt Thankful. She was always
ready to extend her helping hand, always ready to do a generous act.
She was ever true to herself as well as to her neighbors. Perhaps that
was the reason why the world called her _odd_. If so, how earnestly I
wish there were a great many more odd folks!

Aunt Thankful lived many years in the village before she began to keep
school. I remember how funny she used to look as she came down the
street towards the school-house. She was so small that I should not
have been astonished to see her driving a hoop to school.

Then she wore her spectacles in such a funny way! What use they were
to her, I never could discover. If she looked at the scholars in the
school-house, she looked _over_ the glasses; if she was reading or
writing, she looked _under_ them. I have often heard boys, who were
considered truthful, declare that on no occasion was she ever known to
look _through_ them.

But what made Aunt Thankful so popular with the children was her kind
manner and her kinder words. Somehow or other she used to like the
poor and the friendless children the best. That was quite a puzzle to
me at first. We usually pay most attention to such as are well off,
and prosperous, and dressed nicely. But not so was it with Aunt
Thankful. She took sides always with the weak and the down-trodden. I
have seen her mend many an apron, many a torn dress worn by a poor
scholar, during school hours. She did it, too, in such a kind way,
that it made one forget that they were poor. That was because she was
O