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Miss Flush could hardly refrain from weeping as she took Mag by the hand, and told her by all means to heed the counsel of Mrs. Prescott, and to go and cast all her sins away, believing cordially and simply on the righteous expiation of the Son of God for salvation.

"Yes," said Mag, "we need just such a Saviour, I presume. For my part, I don't read the Bible much; but Dan says we ought to, and Dan is becoming mighty religious now-a-days."

"Who is Dan?" inquired Miss Flush.

"That's Dan in the doorway with a slouching hat on, sitting curled up so. Do you see him?"

"Yes; but who is he?"

"Why, he's an old fellow of us -- a State-prison chap; one of the hardest old villains, they say, that ever was. Jims knows all about him. But he's getting as sober as a deacon now-a-days, and speaks and acts kinder."

"What makes him do that?"

"Oh, he says Captain Bunce, who used to keep us -- a rough, grinding old master -- who Dan used to quarrel with a good deal, and Jims used to trouble all he could, (ha! ha! ha!) and get flogged for it. Didn't you, Jims?" said she, as he came up. "Didn't Captain Bunce used to flog you within an inch of your life, eh?"

"Yes," said he, "I believe so, Mag. But those days are gone by now: and the Captain's a better man, I hope, if I am not."

"I guess you both needed a little grace," said she, bluntly.

"You are more than half right, Mag," said he, and walked by.

"Well," says she, resuming, "this Captain Bunce is now poor, with a blind daughter, and they are both coming to the poor-house themselves. But the Captain tells Dan he's met with a change, and is willing the Lord should do with him as he pleases; and he talks with Dan till the poor soul really seems to act like a different kind of fellow. But after all, how's a person to be religious here. Do you know?"

Miss Flush said they must all be patient, and commit themselves to God, who would, she had "no doubt, assist them, and by-and-bye make them much better off."

"Oh!" said Mag, "we expect that. Why, we should die right off if we gave up hope. Now, Miss Flush, we are expecting there'll be a great change one of these days, just on account of my dream -- "

"Your dream?"

"Yes, a good many years ago it was too. Aunt Prescott thinks it will be fulfilled, and so do most all of us, for the dream was fulfilled about aunt Dodge, you know, and so we think this will be."

"What was it?"

"Why, that we were all liberated from these little pest-holes, and poor, short way of living, and put into a nice large house, where we had a sweet, good home, and every thing as comfortable as a body could wish -- wouldn't it be good if it did come to pass, Miss Flush?"

Miss Flush breathed heavily, for she had opposed the fulfillment of this very dream a good many years, little thinking it was the hope and longing desire of those destitute and suffering ones by whom she now found herself surrounded.

"Yes, Mag," she said at last, "it would be a blessing indeed, and I think you ought to have something of the kind, I am sure." Miss Flush was feeling very earnest thoughts in her soul, thoughts of labor in behalf of these poor outcasts, God bless her!

"God bless you. Miss -- perhaps we shall have. Now, do you go and see the old widow Prescott. There she is talking with the parson -- do you see her, an old lady in a cap? And there too, is old aunt Wakeup, with her crutch, see them?"

"Yes, I see them -- good bye."

"Good bye, Miss."

Passing the opened door of poor Hicks' room, she was struck with horror at his ghastly, dying look, and nearly opposite was the room of Miss Peters, who was languishing out her life also, though perhaps her danger was less immediate than his; her face was haggard and sunken, its belle-beauty gone -- its virgin life wound up near to breaking. Quietly, Miss Flush stood in the circle.

"We have but little life left to us," said the widow, "may it be passed in the fear of God."

"Amen!" said aunt Wakeup.

"We have seen a strange life, sir," said the widow.

"It has been an eventful one, indeed," he replied.

"All's right, though," said aunt Wakeup, "whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth, you know?"

"True," said the widow. "The Psalmist says, 'before I was afflicted, I went astray.' We need afflictions."

"We get 'um too!" said aunt Wakeup.

"I hope they are rightly improved by you all," said Mr. Rodman, "for no one of us knows precisely what is best for him, and he should therefore endeavor to see the hand of the Lord in every one of his trials."

"Oh, to be sure," said the widow, meekly.

"I know it," said aunt Wakeup, bluntly, "and so I tell Mrs. Upham, who has just lost her children "

"Lost her children!"

"Yes, the town have put them out to places, one has gone to learn a carpenter's trade, and the other to work on a farm -- "

"Well, did she not approve of it?"

"No; she' wanted they should go to school longer: they are only eight or nine years old. But the town said they had better go now to these places, and they would see that they had three months' schooling a year till they were twelve or fourteen years old."