Page:Letters of Life.djvu/56

44 Of young enthusiasm, emulate the theme So meekly flowing from those aged lips, To point the way to heaven."

In her spacious parlor, seated in her cushioned chair, by the side of a brightly blazing wood fire, she might often be seen, her knitting bag hanging near, and a book open before her, the spectacles, perchance, thrown back upon her noble brow, for a pause of thought. Her sole companion might be a slender child, with an unusually fair complexion, climbing by the aid of a high, straight-backed chair, to the upper alcove of an old-fashioned dark mahogany bookcase, to discover if haply some stray volume had eluded previous explorations.

"Lydia, come here."

Whereupon the tiny personage descends with uncommon velocity, and ensconces herself in a tiny green arm-chair, at her feet, ready for any wish that should be expressed.

"Read me these two pages of Young's 'Night Thoughts,' my dear, and be sure to pronounce every word slowly and distinctly."

Let no child think this was a hardship. To please one so respected and beloved, or to win her smile of approbation, was sufficient happiness. Sometimes the call would be, not to read aloud, but to sing. Her