Now I also discovered that the regiment George enlisted in was one whose Colonel I knew well: so I wrote and asked about Sergeant Adams. My report was highly honorable to George, but had some bad news in it: he had been severely wounded in the right leg, and, though recovering, would be disabled from further service. A fortnight after I drove into Hanerford with Grandfather Hollis, and we stopped at the old bakery. It looked exquisitely neat in the shop, as well as prosperous externally, and Dely stood behind the counter with a lovely child in her arms. Grandfather bought about half a bushel of crackers and cookies, while I played with the baby. As he paid for them, he said in his kind old voice that nobody can hear without pleasure,-- "I believe I have a pet of yours in my barn at Avondale, Mrs. Adams." Dely's eyes lighted up, and a quick flush of feeling glowed on her pretty face. "Oh, Sir! you did buy Biddy, then? and you are Squire Hollis?" "Yes, Ma'am, and Biddy is well, and well cared for, as fat and sleek as a mole, and still comes to her name." "Thank you kindly, Sir!" said Dely, with an emphasis that gave the simple phrase most earnest meaning. "And how is your husband, Mrs. Adams?" said I. A deeper glow displaced the fading blush Grandfather had called out, and her beautiful eyes flashed at me. "Quite well, I thank you, and not so very lame. And he's coming home next week." She took the baby from me, as she spoke, and, looking in its bright little face, said,-- "Call him, Baby!" "Pa-pa!" said the child. "If ever you come to Avondale, Mrs. Adams, come and see my cows," said Grandfather, as he gathered up the reins. "You maybe sure I won't sell Biddy to anybody but you." Dely smiled from the steps where she stood; and we drove away. NEEDLE AND GARDEN. THE STORY OF A SEAMSTRESS WHO LAID DOWN HER NEEDLE AND BECAME A STRAWBERRY-GIRL. WRITTEN BY HERSELF. CHAPTER VI. I cannot tell why the price of everything we eat or drink or wear has so much increased during the last year or two. I have heard many reasons given, and have read of so many more, all differing, as to lead me to suspect that no one really knows. Yet there is a general, broad admission that it must in some way be owing to the war, for every one knows that such enhancement did not previously exist. But among the strange, the unaccountable, the utterly heartless facts of this eventful crisis is the reduction of the wages of the sewing-woman, while the cost of everything necessary to keep her alive is threefold greater than before. The salaries of clerks have been raised, the wages of the working-man increased, in some cases doubled, the labor of men in every department of business is better paid, yet that of the sewing-woman is reduced in price.