ies; here was
kept the discarded dinner-bell, used at the funerals of our pet
animals, and which she introduced into "The Burial of the Linnet."[3]
Near the Bower we had a chapel, dedicated to St. Christopher, and a
sketch of it is still extant, which was drawn by our eldest sister,
who was the chief builder and caretaker of the shrine; hence started
the funeral processions, both of our pets and of the stray birds and
beasts we found unburied. In "Brothers of Pity"[4] Julie gave her hero
the same predilection for burying that we had indulged in.

[Footnote 3: "Verses for Children, and Songs for Music."]

[Footnote 4: "Brothers of Pity, and other Tales of Beasts and Men."]

She invented names for the spots that we most frequented in our walks,
such as "The Mermaid's Ford," and "St. Nicholas." The latter covered a
space including several fields and a clear stream, and over this
locality she certainly reigned supreme; our gathering of violets and
cowslips, or of hips and haws for jam, and our digging of earth-nuts
were limited by her orders. I do not think she ever attempted to
exercise her prerogative over the stream; I am sure that, whenever we
caught sight of a dark tuft of slimy _Batrachospermum_ in its clear
depths, we plunged in to secure it for Mother, whether Julie or any
other Naiad liked it or no! But "the splendour in the grass and glory
in the flower" that we found in "St. Nicholas" was very deep and real,
thanks to all she wove around the spot for us. Even in childhood she
must have felt, and imparted to us, a great deal of what she put into
the hearts of the children in "Our Field."[5] To me this story is one
of the most beautiful of her compositions, and deeply characteristic
of the strong power she possessed of drawing happiness from little
things, in spite of the hindrances caused by weak health. Her fountain
of hope and thankfulness never ran dry.

[Footnote 5: "A Great Emergency, and other Tales."]

Madam Liberality was accustomed to disappointment.

From her earliest years it had been a family joke, that poor Madam
Liberality was always in ill-luck's way.

It is true that she was constantly planning; and, if one builds
castles, one must expect a few loose stones about one's ears now
and then. But, besides this, her little hopes were constantly being
frustrated by Fate.

If the pigs or the hens got into the garden, Madam Liberality's bed
was sure to b