There was such a pretty one about the 'Peasant's Fireside,' Lenny,--have you got hold of that ?" "Yes, dear mother; and I remarked the allusion to you: it brought tears to my eyes.

But these verses are not my father's; whose are they?
They seem in a woman's handwriting." Mrs.Fairfield looked, changed colour, grew faint and seated herself.
"Poor, poor Nora!" said she, falteringly.

"I did not know as they were there; Mark kep' 'em; they got among his--" LEONARD.--"Who was Nora ?" MRS.

FAIRFIELD.--"Who ?--child--who?
Nora was--was my own--own sister." LEONARD (in great amaze, contrasting his ideal of the writer of these musical lines, in that graceful hand, with his homely uneducated mother, who could neither read nor write).--"Your sister! is it possible! My aunt, then.

How comes it you never spoke of her before?
Oh, you should be so proud of her, Mother!" MRS.