lie, "the kind aunt who attended your
mother during her last illness, and I will gladly do my utmost to render
happy her declining years."

I had secretly felt some fears that my uncle might object to our
receiving Aunt Patience to our home. A short time after, I mentioned the
matter to my uncle, telling him of my mother's dying injunction to me,
that I should not neglect Aunt Patience in her old age. His reply put
all my fears to flight.

"I am glad, Clara," said my uncle, "to see that you respect the wishes
of your deceased mother. Our dwelling is large, and we can surely find
room for Aunt Patience. I will go for her myself, as I am at leisure,
and would enjoy the journey."

With a light heart, I wrote to Aunt Patience, informing her of our
intentions; and a few days later, my uncle set out on his journey to
Massachusetts. When he returned, accompanied by my aged relative, tears
mingled with my welcome, so vividly was my mother recalled to my mind by
the meeting.

CHAPTER XXIII.

A PLEASING INCIDENT.

Again it is the twentieth of May; and, this day five years ago, was my
wedding-day. Two years since, and the fountain of a new love was stirred
in my heart, namely, the love of a mother for her first-born son. One
year since, I was called to stand by the dying-bed of Aunt Patience. Her
end was peace; and her earthly remains rest beside those of my mother.

My uncle still lives with us, a hale and vigorous old man, over seventy
years of age. The parents of Willie still reside in the city. Birdie and
Lewis are both at home. Lewis assists his father in their business,
which has again become very prosperous.

I bring my story to a close by relating an incident which took place
the summer succeeding the date of this chapter. I had long wished to
visit my friends in New Hampshire: but my own cares had hitherto
prevented me; but this season I decided to pay the long-deferred visit.
Willie was very glad to accompany me, having long wished to visit the
Eastern States. Birdie and Lewis also bore us company. As our way lay
through a portion of Massachusetts, I determined once more to visit the
small village which formerly had been the home of Aunt Patience. We
arrived at Woodville late on a Saturday evening, and on Sabbath morning
were invited to hear a talented young preacher, who, we were informed,
had lately been called as pastor to the Congregational Church in that
village. As the young minister ascended the