“‘No, no; let us have another trial. You can dictate as easily as you can write. Come, I can set the baby in this clothes-basket and give him some mischief or other to keep him quiet; you shall dictate and I will write. Now this is the place where you left off; you were describing the scene between _Ellen_ and her lover; the last sentence was, “Borne down by the tide of agony, she leaned her head on her hands, the tears streamed through her fingers, and her whole frame shook with convulsive sobs.” What shall I write next?’ “‘Mina, put a little milk into this pearlash,’ said Harriet. “‘Come,’ said I. ‘“The tears streamed through her fingers and her whole frame shook with convulsive sobs.” What next?’ “Harriet paused and looked musingly out of the window as she turned her mind to her story. ‘You may write now,’ she said, and she dictated as follows: “‘“Her lover wept with her, nor dared he again to touch the point so sacredly guarded.” Mina, roll that crust a little thinner! “He spoke in soothing tones.” Mina, poke the coals in the oven.’ “‘Here,’ said I; ‘let me direct Mina about these matters, and write a while yourself.’ “Harriet took the pen and patiently set herself to the work. For a while my culinary knowledge and skill were proof to all Mina’s investigating inquiries, and they did not fail till I saw two pages completed. “‘You have done bravely,’ said I as I read over the manuscript; ‘now you must direct Mina a while. Meantime dictate and I will write.’ “Never was there a more docile literary lady than Harriet. Without a word of objection she followed my request. “‘I am ready to write,’ said I. ‘The last sentence was: “What is this life to one who has suffered as I have?” What next?’ “‘Shall I put in the brown or white bread first?’ said Mina. “‘The brown first,’ said Harriet. “‘“What is this life to one who has suffered as I have?”’ said I. “Harriet brushed the flour off her apron and sat down for a moment in a muse. Then she dictated as follows: “‘“Under the breaking of my heart I have borne up. I have borne up under all that tries a woman--but this thought--oh, Henry!”’ “‘Ma’am, shall I put ginger into this pumpkin?’ queried Mina. “‘No, you may let that alone just now,’ replied Harriet. She then proceeded: “‘“I know my duty to my children. I see the hour must come. You must take them, Henry; they are my last earthly comfort.”’ “‘Ma’am, what shall I do with these egg shells and all this truck here?’ interrupted Mina. “‘Put them in the pail by you,’ answered Harriet. “‘“They are my last earthly comfort,”’ said I. ‘What next?’ “She continued to dictate: “‘“You must take them away. It may be--perhaps it must be--that I shall soon follow, but the breaking heart of a wife still pleads, ‘a little longer, a little longer.’”’ “‘How much longer must the gingerbread stay in?’ inquired Mina. “‘Five minutes,’ said Harriet. “‘“A little longer, a little longer,”’ I repeated in a dolorous tone, and we burst into a laugh.