sweet, sad voices, which penetrated the soul. When their teacher praised them, they looked happy; and as she passed among the benches, they kissed her hands and wrists; for they are very grateful for what is done for them, and very affectionate. These little angels have good minds, and study well, the teacher told me. The teacher is young and gentle, with a face full of kindness, but with a certain expression of sadness, like a reflection of the misfortunes which she caresses and comforts. Dear girl! Among all the human creatures who earn their livelihood by toil, there is not one who earns it more holily than you!
Your Mother.
SACRIFICE
Tuesday, 9th.
My mother is good, and my sister Sylvia is like her, and has a large and noble heart. Yesterday evening I was copying a part of the monthly story, From the Apennines to the Andes,—which the teacher has given out to us all in small portions to copy, because it is so long,—when Sylvia entered on tiptoe, and said to me hastily, and in a low voice:—
“Come to mamma with me. I heard her and papa talking together this morning: some affair has gone wrong with papa, and he was sad; mamma was encouraging him. We are in difficulties—do you understand? We have no more money. Papa said that it would be necessary to make sacrifices in order to recover himself. Now we must make sacrifices, too, must we not? Are you ready to do it? Well, I will
