two or three times a year. Was not
that enough? Of what use the endless labor of this sharp-nosed woman,
with glasses over her eyes, at the church-house? Were not, perhaps, the
glasses the consequence of such toil? And her figure of a long leanness
also?

The element of real heroism, however, came into Miss Lois's life in her
persistent effort to employ Indian servants. Through long years had she
persisted, through long years would she continue to persist. A
succession of Chippewa squaws broke, stole, and skirmished their way
through her kitchen, with various degrees of success, generally in the
end departing suddenly at night with whatever booty they could lay their
hands on. It is but justice to add, however, that this was not much, a
rigid system of keys and excellent locks prevailing in the well-watched
household. Miss Lois's conscience would not allow her to employ
half-breeds, who were sometimes endurable servants; duty required, she
said, that she should have full-blooded natives. And she had them. She
always began to teach them the alphabet within three days after their
arrival, and the spectacle of a tearful, freshly-caught Indian girl,
very wretched in her calico dress and white apron, worn out with the
ways of the kettles and the brasses, dejected over the fish-balls, and
appalled by the pudding, standing confronted by a large alphabet on the
well-scoured table, and Miss Lois by her side with a pointer, was
frequent and even regular in its occurrence, the only change being in
the personality of the learners. No one of them had ever gone through
the letters, but Miss Lois was not discouraged.

THE CIRCUS AT DENBY.

BY SARAH ORNE JEWETT.

I cannot truthfully say that it was a good show; it was somewhat dreary,
now that I think of it quietly and without excitement. The creatures
looked tired, and as if they had been on the road for a great many
years. The animals were all old, and there was a shabby great elephant
whose look of general discouragement went to my heart, for it seemed as
if he were miserably conscious of a misspent life. He stood dejected and
motionless at one side of the tent, and it was hard to believe that
there was a spark of vitality left in him. A great number of the people
had never seen an elephant before, and we heard a thin, little old man,
who stood near us, say delightedly: "There's the old creatur', and no
mistake, Ann 'Liza. I wanted to see him most of anything. My sakes
alive,