upation, as well as gratified and affected by the sympathy he
everywhere met with from high and low.

The boys were at school, unseen except when at the dinner play-hour
Norman ran home to ask after his father and sister; but the most trying
time was at eight in the evening, when they came home. That was wont to
be the merriest part of the whole day, the whole family collected,
papa at leisure and ready for talk or for play, mamma smiling over her
work-basket, the sisters full of chatter, the brothers full of fun, all
the tidings of the day discussed, and nothing unwelcome but bedtime. How
different now! The doctor was with Margaret, and though Richard tried to
say something cheerful as his brothers entered, there was no response,
and they sat down on the opposite sides of the fire, forlorn and silent,
till Richard, who was printing some letters on card-board to supply the
gaps in Aubrey's ivory Alphabet, called Harry to help him; but Ethel,
as she sat at work, could only look at Norman, and wish she could devise
anything likely to gratify him.

After a time Flora came down, and laying some sheets of closely written
note-paper before her sister, said, "Here is dear mamma's unfinished
letter to Aunt Flora. Papa says we elder ones are to read it. It is a
description of us all, and very much indeed we ought to learn from it. I
shall keep a copy of it."

Flora took up her work, and began to consult with Richard, while Ethel
moved to Norman's side, and kneeling so as to lean against his shoulder,
as he sat on a low cushion, they read their mother's last letter by
the fire-light, with indescribable feelings, as they went through the
subjects that had lately occupied them, related by her who would never
be among them again. After much of this kind, for her letters to Mrs.
Arnott were almost journals, came,

"You say it is long since you had a portrait gallery of the chicken
daisies, and if I do not write in these leisure days, you will hardly
get it after I am in the midst of business again. The new Daisy is like
Margaret at the same age--may she continue like her! Pretty creature,
she can hardly be more charming than at present. Aubrey, the moon-faced,
is far from reconciled to his disposition from babyhood; he is a sober,
solemn gentleman, backward in talking, and with such a will of his own,
as will want much watching; very different from Blanche, who is Flora
over again, perhaps prettier and more fairy-like, unless th