At last, a carriage, drawn by two noble horses, and driven by a jolly-looking coachman with a fat, red face, and arms which looked stout enough to drive a war chariot, dashed up to the door. Minnie dropped her work, and exclaimed,—
“O ma, ma, aunt Amy’s come! aunt Amy’s come!”
She was too well bred to rush into the street, as some little girls would have done. So she waited until the hired girl had opened the door, and Mrs. Brown had welcomed her sister. Then it was Minnie’s turn. She sprang to return her aunt’s kiss, and said,—
“I’m so glad to see you, aunt Amy!”
“And I am happy to see you, Minnie; especially as you look so well and healthy,” replied her aunt.
Aunt Amy was Mrs. Brown’s sister. She was a widow. The grave had taken her husband and children from her; she was lonely in the world, and her heart dwelt in heaven with her children, her husband, and her Savior. She was rich, and delighted to spend her money in doing good. Having lost the earthly objects she best loved, her life was spent in making the miseries of the world less, and in adding to its happiness.
The day after her arrival at Mrs. Brown’s, she took Minnie out with her for a walk through the village. Minnie waited by her aunt’s side, and pointed her to all the changes which had taken place since her visit a year before. She was pleased to listen to the little girl’s prattle, and their walk was a very happy one.
The weather being fine, they went beyond the village and down a lane which led to an old granite quarry on the edge of a fine piece of woods. On reaching the quarry, they sat down upon a large fragment of granite to rest themselves, for their walk made them feel a little tired. As aunt Amy was viewing the scenery around her, she saw a wretched-looking house, half hid by the foliage of the trees, on the opposite side of the quarry. Turning to Minnie, she pointed her finger towards it, and asked,—
“Minnie, what house is that yonder?”
Minnie’s eye followed the direction of her aunt’s finger until she saw the cottage, or hovel. She knew whose it was, and so she said,—