Aunt Rachel sat with her hands folded in her lap, with an air of martyr-like resignation to the woes of life.
"I've brought you home a paper, Rachel," said her brother, cheerfully.
"You may find something interesting in it." "I shan't be able to read it this evening," said Rachel, mournfully.

"My eyes have troubled me lately.

I feel that it is more than probable I am getting blind; but I trust I shall not live to be a burden to you, Timothy.

Your prospects are dark enough without that." "Don't trouble yourself with any fears of that sort, Rachel," said the cooper, cheerily.

"I think I know what will enable you to use your eyes as well as ever." "What ?" asked Rachel, with melancholy curiosity.
"A pair of spectacles." "Spectacles!" retorted Rachel, indignantly.