s Amidon come in to spend the evening", said a
nervous, critical, intellectual man, most of whose life had been passed
among far more pretentious people in large cities, "there is such a
sunny atmosphere about her."

Where does Miss Amidon get the strength to do so many good things? She
is not a common woman of course, and yet there is nothing striking about
her. She does nothing great. I have no reason to suppose that her
teaching even is above the average. I think the rare quality in her
character, however, is that she spends the little strength and money she
has on _essentials_, and so there is always something to show for them.

I once had a friend who was told by several physicians that she had an
incurable disease. Her own home was gone, and she did not wish to be
dependent upon others. She had been a teacher, and she resolved to go on
teaching. There would be months at a time when she would be obliged to
rest, but then, with unfailing courage, she went back to her work. Once,
when she was only able to sit up a few hours in the day, she took a
position in a boarding-school, where her board was but a trifle, and was
given to her for her instruction of one or two small classes which could
recite in her room where she was propped up in an easy-chair.

She had a religious nature, and thought calmly of death, while she felt
that in this world her plain duty was to make the most of her life. She
bore her suffering without complaint, did not allow herself to be
anxious, took all measures she could to alleviate her pain and to
improve her health, and was then free to enjoy the few pleasures still
within her reach. As a result, she grew better, and for half a dozen
years was able to support herself well by teaching in a difficult
school. In order to do this, however, she had to live within very narrow
lines. Her disease was of such a nature, that her diet had to be
confined almost entirely to one article. This made it seem best for her
to live in a hotel where she could have little home life. And such a
diet at times became almost nauseating. It was necessary for her to save
all her strength for her daily work, so she had to put aside even the
few pleasures otherwise within her reach. What made this the harder was
that she had never taught from love of the work, though her fine
intelligence and conscientiousness made her an excellent teacher.

"First, I have to consider my health," she said. "Then I must think of
my w