hat it had been
so thoroughly read and discussed in the little Sabbath School, that I had
many warm friends in Sycamore.

Before I left he pleadingly besought me never to pass by a saloon in my
canvassing tours, for I little knew the good my presence might bring
about. I have faithfully followed his advice, ever buoyed by the hope of
some equally happy result, and never having met with an indignity or
repulse, this class of people ranking among my most generous patrons.

As from every event in life we gather some golden lesson of wisdom, from
this I learned to--

"Think nought a trifle
Though it small appear
Small sands make up the mountain,
Moments make the year,
And trifles life!"

CHAPTER XXXIV.

"While, O, my heart! as white sails shiver,
And crowds are passing, and banks stretch wide;
How hard to follow with lips that quiver,
That moving speck on the far-off side!
Farther, farther--I see it--I know it--
My eyes brim over, it melts away,
Only my heart, to my heart shall show it,
As I walk desolate day by day."

At home for the winter, I was joined by my husband, who had entered into
business, and constant tidings of Hattie's convalescence cheered me. Ida
being obliged to visit home, I was left in entire charge of my house,
daily bewailing the fatal effects of inexperience, when, as ever, a friend
was furnished me in the hour of need. Mrs. Leavitt, my neighbor "over the
way," was a lady of great personal attraction, whose beautiful head was
crowned with the glory of prematurely white hair. She ministered to me in
so many ways. In reading or conversation her melodious voice lent a charm
to the most ordinary theme. Nor did she deem it degrading to enter the
domestic realm, and there as everywhere she reigned a queen.

The flutter of a handkerchief at the window blind was my "signal of
distress," and when my "Ship of State" seemed sinking amid the breakers of
domestic storms, her strong arm ever saved. When, the dread emergency of
dinner demanded more skill than my amateur art supplied, she came to the
rescue, and as she presided in the kitchen, teaching to compound some
savoury sauce or delicate dish, the process was interlarded with some sage
sentiment from Bacon and other profound philosophers; while, like Joe's
practical sermon over the "plum pudding" came her comments "My dear!
_knowledge_ is _power_," thus deeply impressing me with the