“And was he a good listener, mamma?” I inquired, “or did he stop grandmamma from time to time to comment upon the author and the events?”

“Father’s intentions were the best in the world,” replied mamma smiling, “but you must remember that he would sit down to listen, completely exhausted from a day’s work that had commenced with the first tinge of dawn, and before very long, soothed by mother’s musical voice, his breathing would become more and more audible, and his head commence to nod.  Quite patiently mother would continue her chapter, feigning not to be conscious of the heavy breathing that proceeded from the arm-chair, and often from the boyish figure stretched before the fire, until their slumber would become too apparent, when, closing the book, she would call them severely to task for their inattention.

“Rubbing his eyes, father would rouse up, and indignantly refuting the accusation, declare that he had heard every word.

“Instantly putting him to the test, mother would inquire what she had been reading about?

“After a moment of deep reflection, father would say penitently: 

“’Well, Mary, if you will just read back a page or two, I will remember all about it.’

“Very indulgently mother would turn back, but often before she had reached the former stopping-place, father’s breathing would announce that he was again resting from the hard day’s toil.

“Barnes was somewhat better as a listener, but he, like father, worked hard, and it was often difficult for him to keep awake during the reading of history or novels; but we three girls were a most interested audience, and somewhat compensated for masculine inattention.

“But father was not always drowsy; at times he would listen with keen interest to the evening reading, and very much vexed he would be if the arrival of any neighbor should put a stop to it.

“‘My wife is reading something extremely interesting to us,’ he would artfully say; ‘perhaps you would like to listen to it also?’

“‘By all means,’ the unsuspecting visitor would reply, and not another opportunity would he have to speak until it was time to take leave.”

“What books did grandmamma read to you?” inquired Marguerite.  “You have mentioned both history and novels, but without giving any names.”

“Your uncle,” replied mamma, “supplied us with light literature from the resources of the Spectator office—­newspapers, pamphlets, periodicals, etc., and mother’s own little library was sterling in its quality as her own old-fashioned ballads; it was quite varied, too, considering how few volumes it contained.

“One of the books that I remember was Butler’s ’History of the United States;’ a ponderous tome that I presume you children have never seen.

“Another volume from which we derived much information and pleasure was a large ‘Universal History;’ the name of its author I have forgotten.