An expedition of this kind stands out among the brightest of our childhood memories. It was in a season of severe sickness both at home and in the vicinity. Our mother was ill, the older children either on the sick list or absent. It was quite necessary to send to the _shire town_, twelve miles distant, where, in those “long-ago” days, the most important shopping was done, and the foreign groceries purchased. Father had his buggy at the door just ready to start on this tour, and was making a list of the last items, and directions from mother, when he was summoned in great haste to a patient. Here was a dilemma! The purchases _must_ be made; the patient _must_ be cared for. What was to be done? We were sitting in the south hall-door, playing with the baby, so near to the sick-room that we could not help hearing the consultation. Father must go to his patient; but who was to go for the articles so greatly needed? The “tailoress” would be on hand in the morning, and the cloth must be had for her work; a tailoress was an important character in those days, and if we lost _our turn_ there would be weeks to wait before we could secure her again. That would never do, for “the boys” must soon return to school, and their clothes be ready, anyhow. What could be done? We heard the hurried talk, with a kind of dreamy wonder as to how they would settle the troublesome question; but, as one who could have no personal interest in the solution, went on with our frolic with baby, when mother said, “Write out a list, with full directions, and send E----.” What a bound our heart gave! We nearly dropped the baby. _We_, not twelve years old; and mother thought we could be trusted to do such a big thing! We felt a half-head taller only to think that mother--bless her!--thought us capable of it. Whether it was decided that we should go or not was, just then, quite a secondary consideration, yet we were “all ears” to catch father’s reply: “Send that child! What does she know of buying anything? And this is a very important errand.” Ah! here our heart collapsed; we didn’t quite want to go,--the work seemed so great,--but we did want father to think us as trustworthy and capable as mother did. “If you think it safe for her to drive alone so far, I think you may trust her to do the errand well, with suitable directions. The merchants and grocers are old friends, and will not take advantage of the child.” “Well, it is the only thing we can do,” said father, with an anxious, dissatisfied tone, and this great responsibility was committed to our care.