rdens of advancing life?

But not only in her home was Meeta a consolation and a blessing. The
poor, the sick, the sorrowing, knew ever where to find true sympathy and
ready aid. She was the "Lady Bountiful" of her neighborhood. But there
was one house where more especially her presence was welcomed; where no
important step was taken without her advice; where sorrow was best
soothed by her, and joy but half complete till she had shared it. This
house was Ernest Rainer's. To him and Sophie she was a cherished sister,
to whose upright and self-forgetting nature they looked up with a
species of reverence; and to their children she was "Dear Aunt Meeta!
the kindest and best friend, except mamma, in the world!"

How many more useful, more noble, or happier persons than our old maid
can married life present? Is she not more worthy of imitation than the
"Celias" and "Daphnes" whose delicate distresses have formed the staple
of circulating libraries, or than those feeble spirits in real life,
who, mistaking selfishness for sensibility, turn thanklessly from the
blessings and coldly from the duties of life, because they have been
denied the gratification of some cherished desire?

CHAPTER X.

It is Christmas, merry Christmas, as we have been duly informed this
morning by every inhabitant of Donaldson Manor, from Col. Donaldson to
the pet and baby Sophy Dudley, who was taught the words but yesterday,
for the occasion. Last evening our readings were interrupted, for all
were busy in preparing for this important day. Miss Donaldson was
superintending jellies and blanc-manges, custards and Charlottes des
Russes; Col. and Mrs. Donaldson were preparing gifts for their servants,
not one of whom was forgotten, and Annie and I, and, by his own special
request, Mr. Arlington, were arranging in proper order the gifts of that
most considerate, mirthful and generous of spirits, Santa Claus. This
morning the sun rose as clear and bright as though it, too, rejoiced in
the joy of humanity; but long before the sun had showed himself, little
feet were pattering from room to room, and childish voices shouting in
the unchecked exuberance of delight. I sometimes doubt whether the
children are so happy as I am, on such occasions. One incident that
occurred this morning would have been enough, in my opinion, to repay
all the time, the trouble, and the gold, which Santa Claus, or his
agents, had expended on their preparations. Aroused by the