Walter Harland / Or, Memories of the Past

en a very busy season, and long since Uncle Nathan's capacious barns had been filled to overflowing with their treasures of fra

still seemed rather to distrust me and, although she said nothing, I was too sharp-sighted to be ignorant of the scrutinizing watch she maintained over my conduct. I did not, as many boys of my age would have done, allow myself to cherish any resentment toward my aunt, on the contrary I did every thing in my power to gain her goodwill; I never allowed the water-pails to become empty; I split the kindlings for the morning fire; and, by the time I had been a few weeks in the family, my busy aunt found herself freed from many household tasks to which she had been accustomed for years, and, more than this, I invariably treated her with the utmost kindness and respect. It happened one evening that my aunt was suffering from one of the severe headaches to which she was often subject. After supper she was almost incapable of any exertion whatever. When it was nearly dark she suddenly remembered that the large weekly wash had not been brought in from the clothes' yard, and there was every appearance of approaching rain. "I don't know," said she in a desponding voice; "what will become of the clothes, but if they are all spoiled I can't bring them in, for my head aches as though it would split." It was with fear and trembling that I came forward, and offered to get the clothes-basket and bring in the clothes. She looked at me with astonishment, saying, "a pretty sight the clothes will be by

ing among the old woods which skirted the farm on one side, and seated by turns at the roots of some of the fine old trees, whose covering of many-hued leaves had long since fallen to the ground, my thoughts wove themselves into many bright forms, and many a purpose for good was mat