Emily came home early this morning, and has interested us much in her account of Squire Lee. She says, it is hard for her to realize that he is the same man who so cruelly spurned his innocent, trembling daughter from his feet, so lovingly does he now speak to her. At the usual hour for him to hear reading, Emily brought out the Bible and began the story of Christ's sufferings and death. Chapter after chapter was called for and listened to with breathless interest. When Emily closed the book, he looked around as if missing something, and sister saw his eye rest on a book of prayer. She arose and brought it to him, not exactly understanding what was expected. He shook his head. "Would you like to hear a prayer?" He bowed his assent, and turning to the prayer for the day of the week, and kneeling near him, she read aloud. His right hand supported his head, and when sister arose, the tears were trickling through his fingers and down upon his cheeks. Several times, she heard him say, "poor Joseph, soul and body--lost by rum--God forgive me." Many similar expressions fell from his lips. Allen came in every day during Lucy's absence, and Emily thought that the old gentleman received pleasure from his visits. He was a great assistance to her in changing the position of the sufferer, whose left side is so paralyzed as to render it impossible for him to raise himself from the easy chair in which he sits. One incident which occurred I must not omit. Squire Lee made a remark to which Emily naturally replied, "from what I remember of Mrs. Lee, Lucy very much resembles her mother." This led to the mention of the portrait in the parlor. The old gentleman sighed, for he remembered how touchingly his kneeling daughter had appealed to it when he was last below. "I should think," said Emily, "Lucy would have it hung there, where you can see it from your chair," pointing to a vacant place on the wall. After a moment's pause, he replied, "since it has been changed to the new frame I have not thought it as natural." Joseph had purchased and brought from the city some years since massive and heavy frames, and the sweet face so subdued and tender looked out of keeping with its surroundings. After a few moments, Emily called the attendants to remain with her patient, and hastening to Mrs. Burns, asked if the old frames to the portraits were in existence. Together they ascended to the garret, found the very article for which they were searching, packed away with old rubbish. Almost trembling at her own daring, she carried it below, removed the picture from its massive frame with the ready assistance of the house-keeper, and soon had it replaced in its old case. The question now was how to get it into the room.