here you see, boys, there can't be no iniquity so hid but what
it'll come out. The Wild Indians of the forest, and the stormy winds and
tempests, j'ined together to bring out this 'ere."

"For my part," said Aunt Lois sharply, "I never believed that story."

"Why, Lois," said my grandmother, "Cap'n Eb Sawin was a regular
church-member, and a most respectable man."

"Law, mother! I don't doubt he thought so. I suppose he and Cack got
drinking toddy together, till he got asleep, and dreamed it. I wouldn't
believe such a thing if it did happen right before my face and eyes. I
should only think I was crazy, that's all."

"Come, Lois, if I was you, I wouldn't talk so like a Sadducee," said
my grandmother. "What would become of all the accounts in Dr. Cotton
Mather's 'Magnilly' if folks were like you?"

"Wal," said Sam Lawson, drooping contemplatively over the coals, and
gazing into the fire, "there's a putty consid'able sight o' things in
this world that's true; and then ag'in there's a sight o' things that
ain't true. Now, my old gran'ther used to say, 'Boys, says he, 'if ye
want to lead a pleasant and prosperous life, ye must contrive allers
to keep jest the _happy medium_ between truth and falsehood.' Now, that
are's my doctrine."

Aunt Lois knit severely.

"Boys," said Sam, "don't you want ter go down with me and get a mug o'
cider?"

Of course we did, and took down a basket to bring up some apples to
roast.

"Boys," says Sam mysteriously, while he was drawing the cider, "you jest
ask your Aunt Lois to tell you what she knows 'bout Ruth Sullivan."

"Why, what is it?"

"Oh! you must ask her. These 'ere folks that's so kind o' toppin' about
sperits and sich, come sift 'em down, you gen'lly find they knows one
story that kind o' puzzles 'em. Now you mind, and jist ask your Aunt
Lois about Ruth Sullivan."

[Illustration: Tailpiece, Page 024]

[Illustration: The Sullivan Looking-Glass, Page 025]

THE SULLIVAN LOOKING-GLASS.

"Aunt Lois," said I, "what was that story about Ruth Sullivan?"

Aunt Lois's quick black eyes gave a surprised flash; and she and my
grandmother looked at each other a minute significantly. "Who told you
any thing about Ruth Sullivan," she said sharply.

"Nobody. Somebody said _you_ knew something about her," said I.

I was holding a skein of yarn for Aunt Lois; and she went on winding in
silence, putting the ball through loops and tangled places.

"Little boys shouldn't ask