She has a handsome, placid face, and looks as if the world had moved on quietly and happily ever since she had been on its surface.

Her dark eyes, that must once have been bright and piercing, are softened down to gentleness by the quieting hand of time; and the black hair is slightly streaked with white by the same unsparing fingers.

But for this, age would seem to have little to do with the comely dame who is now bending her neatly-attired head before the shabby-looking girl against the wall, 'What is the matter with you, my poor girl ?' says the 'gintle voice,' These kind words have a power that the equally kind ones of the rough friends around had not.

The brown straw bonnet is raised from the breast, and we perceive that the girl is neither dead nor sleeping.

We perceive something more--a pair of the most painfully melancholy, and beautiful violet eyes that we ever looked into, which are languidly uplifted to the farm-lady.