better ways of
spending her life than everlasting fancy-work. She never seemed to see
the wants of those about her, never lent an ear to the poor, or found
delight in giving of her abundance to those who had little, to brighten
their lives; but sighed because she had nothing to do when the world was
full of work, and she blessed with so many good gifts to use and to
enjoy. I hope she will see her mistake some day, and not waste all her
life on trifles, else she will regret it sadly by and by."

Here the pin paused with a keen glance at Miss Ellen, who had suddenly
begun to sew with a bright color in her cheeks, for the purple pansies
were on the screen that stood before her fire-place, and she recognized
the portrait of herself in that last description. But she did not fancy
being lectured by a pin, so she asked with a smile as she plaited up her
lace,--

"That is all very interesting, but you have not yet told me what becomes
of the pins, Granny."

"Pins, like people, shape their own lives, in a great measure, my dear,
and go to their reward when they are used up. The good ones sink into
the earth and turn to silver, to come forth again in a new and precious
form. The bad ones crumble away to nothing in cracks and dust heaps,
with no hope of salvation, unless some human hand lifts them up and
gives them a chance to try again. Some are lazy, and slip out of sight
to escape service, some are too sharp, and prick and scratch wherever
they are. Others are poor, weak things, who bend up and lose their heads
as soon as they are used. Some obtrude themselves on all occasions, and
some are never to be found in times of need. All have the choice to wear
out or to rust out. I chose the former, and have had a useful, happy
life so far. I'm not as straight as I once was, but I'm bright still, my
point is sharp, my head firm, and age has not weakened me much, I hope,
but made me wiser, better, and more contented to do my duty wherever I
am, than when I left my native paper long ago."

Before Miss Ellen could express her respect for the worthy old pin, a
dismal groan was heard from the blue cushion, and a small voice croaked
aloud,--

"Alas, alas, I chose to rust out, and here I am, a miserable, worthless
thing, whom no one can use or care for. Lift the ruffle, and behold a
sad contrast to the faithful, honest, happy Granny, who has told us such
a varied tale."

"Bless me, what possesses everything to-day!" exclaimed Miss Ell