last ray flickers up, illuminating for a moment the room, and then
leaving it in darkness, Aunt Polly Pepper starts from her evening nap,
and as if continuing her dream mutters "Yes this is pleasant and
something like living."

* * * * *

And so with the moonlight and starlight falling upon the old
homestead, and the sunlight of love falling upon the hearts of its
inmates, we bid them adieu.

RICE CORNER

CHAPTER I.

RICE CORNER.

Yes, Rice Corner! Do you think it a queer name? Well, Rice Corner was
a queer place, and deserved a queer name. Now whether it is celebrated
for anything in particular, I really can't at this moment think,
unless, indeed, it is famed for having been my birthplace! Whether
this of itself is sufficient to immortalize a place future generations
may, perhaps, tell, but I have some misgivings whether the present
will. This idea may be the result of my having recently received
sundry knocks over the knuckles in the shape of criticisms.

But I know one thing--on the bark of that old chestnut tree which
stands near Rice Corner schoolhouse, my name is cut higher than some
of my more bulky contemporary quill--or rather steel--pen-wielders
ever dared to climb. To be sure, I tore my dress, scratched my face,
and committed numerous other little rompish _miss_-demeanors, which
procured for me a motherly scolding. That, however, was of minor
consideration when compared with having my name up--in the chestnut
tree, at least, if it couldn't be up in the world. But pardon my
egotism, and I will proceed with my story about Rice Corner.

Does any one wish to know whereabout on this rolling sphere Rice
Corner is situated? I don't believe you can find it on the map,
unless your eyes are bluer and bigger than mine, which last they can't
very well be. But I can tell you to a dot where Rice Corner should be.
Just take your atlas--not the last one published, but Olney's, that's
the one _I_ studied--and right in one of those little towns in
Worcester County is Rice Corner snugly nestled among the gray rocks
and blue hills of New England.

Yes, Rice Corner was a great place, and so you would have thought
could you have seen it in all its phases, with its brown, red, green,
yellow, and white houses, each of which had the usual quantity of
rose-bushes, lilacs, hollyhocks, and sunflowers. You should have seen
my home, my New England home, where once, not many years