townsmen contributed a sum to bury the poor young people: and many, who were standing by at the funeral, and saw the sorrow of the aged Amy, and thought of the hard trial which had befallen her, said it would have been a mercy if the orphan little twins had been buried in the same grave with their unfortunate parents! But Amy did not think so. "God bless the poor babes!" she said; "they are all that is left me of my good dutiful James: I will do my best to bring them up; and, if my life be spared so long, I may see them prove a blessing and a comfort to me; and, perhaps, they may lay my head in the same grave with my poor son!" Amy did, indeed, strive to do her best to rear her poor little grandsons. She was often seen with a baby on each arm coming into the town to fetch the cow off the common; and then the good-hearted sailors, who had known her son, would give her a white loaf for the babes, or a piece of meat or cheese for herself. With these helps, and with the milk from the cow and the vegetables from the garden, she contrived to get through that trying year. "Before the winter comes again," she said to a friendly old pilot who had called to see her, "my little boys will run alone; and when these aged arms are relieved from their heavy burden, I shall be able to work hard for their living." Amy was firm in her resolution: and, by her good nursing, the little orphans throve and grew nicely,--so that by the end of the next summer they could run about, holding by each other, to assist their steps. They were very good and quiet, and fond of each other, and gave much less trouble than could have been expected.