"And I'll tell you what, my dear child, Christians would save themselves a great deal of trouble if they would learn this one lesson,—to control their thoughts, and make them work, so to speak, in harness. I can understand, from the little I know of your family affairs, that your position is a very trying one, but do not give way to fretfulness or despair. Wait on the Lord and be doing good, and fret not thyself in any wise. And, by the by, study well that thirty-seventh Psalm, and you will come to feel as if it were made for you." Calista obeyed, and found the wisdom of the good minister's advice. She was studying very hard this vacation, with Miss Druett's assistance, who fully approved her plan of qualifying herself for a teacher. She also learned to spin, to please Miss Priscilla, who actually gave her a shilling as a reward when Calista brought her her first skein of smooth fine thread to show what progress she had made. She took great pains with her class of little girls, very few of whom could read, and was gratified with their improvement. She tried hard to read Mitford's "Greece," and persevered through a volume and a half, when she gave it up, and took to "Plutarch's Lives" instead. Zeke and his wife seemed for the present to have disappeared from the neighborhood. Miss Priscilla was more quiet and reasonable than usual, and, on the whole, it was the most comfortable vacation Calista had known. But a very great sorrow was about to fall on Calista,—the greatest sorrow she had ever known since the death of her mother. Miss Druett had been troubled with a cough for two or three years, which cough had grown worse since her apparently slight attack of illness in the summer. Still Calista, in her ignorance, did not think of her being ill. True, she was somewhat thin and languid, but this Calista attributed to the great heat of the weather. Surely she could not be ill when her eyes were so wonderfully bright and she had such a beautiful color in her cheeks. At last, however, even Calista's eyes were opened. Miss Druett one Sunday evening fainted in church, and, though she revived so as to walk slowly home with the assistance Chloe and Calista, she never went again. The next day she sent for the doctor and Mr. Fabian. Dr. Elsmore soon finished his examination, and on Miss Druett's demanding to know the truth, he told her that, though she might linger a few days or weeks, there was no recovery possible, and the end might come at any time. "God's will be done," said Miss Druett. "I should not have a regret but for the child; but she is in his hands, and will be cared for." Mr. Fabian came, and with him she had quite a long private conversation. Then she seemed to have given up the world altogether, and lay patient and smiling, waiting till the change should come.