As we drew nearer to Mrs. Martin’s it was sad to see what poor bushy fields, what thin and empty dwelling places had been left by those who had chosen this disappointing part of the northern country for their home. We crossed the last field and came into a narrow rain-washed road, and Mrs. Todd looked eager and expectant and said that we were almost at our journey’s end. “I do hope Mis’ Martin’ll ask you into her best room where she keeps all the Queen’s pictures. Yes, I think likely she will ask you; but ’tain’t everybody she deems worthy to visit ’em, I can tell you!” said Mrs. Todd warningly. “She’s been collectin’ ’em an’ cuttin’ ’em out o’ newspapers an’ magazines time out o’ mind, and if she heard of anybody sailin’ for an English port she’d contrive to get a little money to ’em and ask to have the last likeness there was. She’s most covered her best-room wall now; she keeps that room shut up sacred as a meetin’-house! ‘I won’t say but I have my favorites amongst ’em,’ she told me t’other day, ‘but they’re all beautiful to me as they can be!’ And she’s made some kind o’ pretty little frames for ’em all—you know there’s always a new fashion o’ frames comin’ round; first ’twas shell-work, and then ’twas pine-cones, and bead-work’s had its day, and now she’s much concerned with perforated cardboard worked with silk. I tell you that best room’s a sight to see! But you mustn’t look for anything elegant,” continued Mrs. Todd, after a moment’s reflection. “Mis’ Martin’s always been in very poor, strugglin’ circumstances. She had ambition for her children, though they took right after their father an’ had little for themselves; she wa’n’t over an’ above well married, however kind she may see fit to speak. She’s been patient an’ hardworkin’ all her life, and always high above makin’ mean complaints of other folks. I expect all this business about the Queen has buoyed her over many a shoal place in life. Yes, you might say that Abby’d been a slave, but there ain’t any slave but has some freedom.” IV. Presently I saw a low gray house standing on a grassy bank close to the road. The door was at the side, facing us, and a tangle of snowberry bushes and cinnamon roses grew to the level of the window-sills. On the doorstep stood a bent-shouldered, little old woman; there was an air of welcome and of unmistakable dignity about her. “She sees us coming,” exclaimed Mrs. Todd in an excited whisper. “There, I told her I might be over this way again if the weather held good, and if I came I’d bring you. She said right off she’d take great pleasure in havin’ a visit from you; I was surprised, she’s usually so retirin’.”