HELEN returned Dr. Cabot's letter in silence this morning, but, directly after breakfast, set forth to visit Mrs. Campbell, with the little bottle of beef-tea in her hands, which ought to have gone yesterday. I had a busy day before me; the usual Saturday baking and Sunday dinner to oversee, the children's lessons for to-morrow to superintend and hear them repeat, their clean clothes to lay out, and a basket of stockings to mend. My mind was somewhat distracted with these cares, and I found it a little difficult to keep on with my morning devotions in spite of them. But I have learned, at least, to face and fight such distractions, instead of running away from them as I used to do. My faith in prayer, my resort to it, becomes more and more the foundation of my life, and I believe, with one wiser and better than myself, that nothing but prayer stands between my soul and the best gifts of God; in other words, that I can and shall get what I ask for. I went down into the kitchen, put on my large baking apron, and began my labors; of course the door-bell rang, and a poor woman was announced. It is very sweet to follow Fenelon's counsel and give oneself to Christ in all these interruptions; but this time I said, "oh, dear!" before I thought. Then I wished I hadn't, and went up, with a cheerful face at any rate, to my unwelcome visitor, who proved to be one of my aggravating poor folks-a great giant of a woman, in perfect health, and with a husband to support her if he will. I told her that I could do no more for her; she answered me rudely, and kept urging her claims. I felt ruffled; why should my time be thus frittered away, I asked myself. At last she went off, abusing me in a way that chilled my heart. I could only beg God to forgive her, and return to my work, which I had hardly resumed when Mrs. Embury sent for a pattern I had promised to lend her. Off came my apron, and up two pairs of stairs I ran; after a long search it came to light. Work resumed; door-bell again. Aunty wanted the children to come to an early dinner. Going to Aunty's is next to going to Paradise to them. Every thing was now hurry and flurry; I tried to be patient; and not to fret their temper by undue attention to nails, ears, and other susceptible parts of the human frame, but after it was all over, and I had kissed all the sweet, dear faces good-by, and returned to the kitchen, I felt sure that I had not been the perfect mother I want to be in all these little emergencies-yes, far from it. Bridget had let the milk I was going to use boil over, and finally burn up. I was annoyed and irritated, and already tired, and did not see how I was to get more, as Mary was cleaning the silver (to be sure, there is not much of it), and had other extra Saturday work to do. I thought Bridget might offer to run to the corner for it, though it isn't her business, but she is not obliging, and seemed as sulky as if I had burned the milk, not she. "After all," I said to myself, "what does