loud
enough to be heard in South America, "Mammy earned it shaking carpets,
_she_ did."

I turned round and looked at Jim Dolan. If I could have had my own way,
I would liked to have put a petticoat and a bonnet on him, and marched
him up to the looking-glass!--a great, able-bodied, idle six-footer! I
don't think much of a man that will _let his wife support him_. Do you?

All the way home I was thinking over what poor Bridget said: "It takes
so little to make the poor lads happy." I want you to think of that,
children, when you pout because the potato is not put on the right side
of your plate; or, because little Minnie has climbed into your chair at
the table; or, because the apple dumplings are not sweet enough for
your dainty little tooth; or, because the tailoress put six buttons
instead of seven, on your new overcoat.

Johnny and Sammy would toss their caps up in the air and go wild with
joy, if they had all the nice things you have. Poor little fellows! I
loved them, because they were so proud of their mother. Oh, children!
there's nothing in the wide earth like a mother. All the friends in the
world couldn't make up to you for her loss. There's no arm but God's so
true and safe to lean upon; there's no heart but His so full of love
and pity, so long-suffering and forgiving.

Love your mother, little ones.

FRONTIER LIFE:

OR,

MITTY MOORE.

"Frontier life!" I think I hear my little readers echo, knitting their
brows; "frontier life,--I wish FANNY FERN wouldn't write about things
we don't understand."

Suppose I should tell you a story to _make_ you understand it? How
would you like that?

Mitty Moore's father took it into his head that _he_ should like
frontier life. So he traveled hundred and hundreds of miles--way off
where the sun goes down, to find a place in which to settle. The roads
were rough and bad. Sometimes it would be a long while before they
reached a place where travelers could get drink and food; and Mitty's
little bones would ache, and she began to think with "Paddy," that the
end of the journey was cut off.

At last Mr. Moore found a place to his mind; and they all halted, with
the old baggage wagon, in the woods; and Mitty, and her little brothers
and sisters, jumped out and stretched their limbs, and looked way up
into the great tall trees to try to see the tops, which seemed to
pierce the clouds.

They made a sort of pic-nic dinner, out of some provisions stowed away