Mr. Wharton replied, that he had had so much trouble with those to whom he had given out wool in that way, and had been so often cheated by them, that he had said he would give out no more, but he believed he must break through his rule for once, in her favor.  She seemed very grateful, and said she hoped he would have no reason to regret his kindness in giving her employment.  And so it proved; Miss Edwards, (for that was her name,) gave such entire satisfaction as to her work, and the share of it she returned, that Mr. Wharton kept her for some time in constant employment.  Every time she came, he was more and more pleased with her gentle and unaffected manners, and with the style of her conversation, which showed without the slightest appearance of effort, a person of great intelligence and good breeding, while an air of subdued melancholy excited an interest in her, which increased with every interview.

“She is an unmistakable lady,” said Mr. Wharton to his wife, “but how she came to be living in the village, without friends, and as I believe in circumstances of great necessity, I cannot imagine.  There is a slight reserve about her,” he added, “which may be difficult to penetrate, but if I mistake not, she is much in need of a friend, and I think she will not long resist the voice of kindness.”

Accordingly, the next time she called, Mr. Wharton, in his kind and sympathising manner, led her to speak of her own peculiar circumstances; and at length drew from her this much of her history:  She was the daughter of a plain New England farmer; had had a good common school education; and was expected to devote the rest of her life to the making of butter and cheese, and to the other occupations carried on in a farmer’s family.  Everything that she could do to aid her father and mother she was willing and ready to perform, but she sighed for knowledge; she had learned enough to wish to know more, and she felt that there was that in her, which properly cultivated, might fit her for something higher than the making of butter and cheese.  Thus, when the day’s labor was ended, and the old people, as was their custom, had retired early to rest, their dutiful daughter, her work for the day well done, sought with delight her little chamber, and her beloved books, in whose companionship she passed the hours always till midnight, and sometimes till she was startled by the

   “Cock’s shrill clarion,”

and reminded that body and mind alike needed repose.

In her studies, and in the choice of her reading, she was guided by her pastor; and a better guide, or one more willing to extend a helping hand to the seeker for knowledge she could not have found.  With such a teacher, and with such an eager desire for improvement, she could not fail to progress rapidly.  On the death of her parents, both of whom she followed to the grave in the course of one year, the kind pastor took her to his own home; but not being willing to