ically. She cut
cloth into strips and bound all about the place where the ball entered,
and then she made a drawing "intment," as she called it, and applied it
daily, and in about four weeks, to our great delight, the ball came out.
Ben had the receipt for that wonderful "intment," and he calls it "Aunt
Hildy's miracle."

When the cold days of the fall came upon us, Aunt Hildy felt them
greatly, and the morning of December tenth we awoke to find her gone;
she had gone to sleep to wake in a better home.

It seemed as if we could not have it so, but when I remembered all she
had told me of her hopes and fears, when I knew she had found Clara and
was glad, I said we were selfish; let our hearts say "Amen."

The town mourned Aunt Hildy, and again our church was filled to
overflowing, and the sermon Mr. Davis preached was a just and beautiful
tribute to our beloved friend, the true and faithful Hildah Patten.

The day after the burial, father said to us in a mournful tone:

"Now I have a duty to perform, and when she talked to me about it, she
said, 'Do it right off, Mr. Minot; don't wait because you feel kinder
bad to have me laid away. It's the best way to do what you've got to do,
and get it over with.'

"So to-night we'll read the papers, and then we will carry out her
desires--good old soul; I do wish she could have stayed longer. I can
hardly see how we're going to live without her."

The evening drew near, and Halbert, Mary and Ben, with little Hal, were
seated in the "middle room," while my father, with a trembling hand,
turned the key in a small drawer of the old secretary, and took out a
roll of papers and a box. As he did so a thought struck him, and he
turned suddenly, saying:

"Why are not all here? She told me to have Matthias and Peg and John
come over. I believe a few more sad partings would make me lose my
memory."

"I'll go over for them," said Ben; "it is early yet."

"Yes, there is plenty of time," said father. "The sun sets early; the
shortest day in the year will soon be with us," and his eyes closed as
if he were too tired to think, and he sat in silence until the sound of
feet on the walk aroused him.

"Hope we hain't come over to see more dyin', Miss Em'ly. 'Pears like its
gettin' pooty lonesome round yere," and as our friends seated
themselves, the old clock tolled the hour of seven.

Little Emily was asleep in Louis' lap, and her cousin Hal curled himself
up in one corner of the old