llo; but when the
people would gladly have worshipped her, she only said, "I did what I
could,--I did what I could,--say no more, say no more."

And as the year passed by, she and her husband taught the poor people
how, if they would only plant the maize, they could have all they wanted
in the winter, and if they planted the roots of the ulloco, and the oca,
and the mashua, and the potato, they would have all they needed of them;
how they might make long fish-ways for the fish, and pitfalls for the
llama. And they learned the language of the poor people, and taught them
the language to which they themselves were born. And year by year their
homes grew neater and more cheerful. And year by year the children were
stronger and better. And year by year the world in that part of it was
more and more subdued to the will and purpose of a good God. And
whenever Manco, Oello's husband, was discouraged, she always said, "We
will do the best we can," and always it proved that that was all that a
good God wanted them to do.

It was from the truth and steadiness of those two people, Manco and
Oello, that the great nation of Peru was raised up from a horde of
savages, starving in the mountains, to one of the most civilized and
happy nations of their times. Unfortunately for their descendants, they
did not learn the use of iron or gunpowder, so that the cruel Spaniards
swept them and theirs away. But for hundreds of years they lived
peacefully and happily,--growing more and more civilized with every
year, because the young Oello and her husband Manco had done what they
could for them.

They did not know much. But what they knew they could do. They were not,
so far as we know, skilful in talking. But they were cheerful in acting.

They did not hide their light under a bushel. They made it shine on all
that came around. Their duties were the humblest, only making a fire in
the morning, cleaning potatoes and cooking them, spinning, braiding,
twisting, and weaving. This was the best Oello could do. She did that,
and in doing it she reared an empire. We can contrast her life with that
of the savages around her. As we can see a drop of blood when it falls
into a cup of water, we can see how that one life swayed theirs. If she
had lived among her kindred, and done at home these simple things, we
should never have heard her name. But none the less would she have done
them. None the less, year in and year out, century in and century out,
w