the Hillside Farm, of which she still retained a very pleasant impression, as the well-remembered and happy home of her own childhood. But Mrs. Campbell did not wish it. The six years they had passed there, and which to the happy child, so petted and indulged, seemed in memory all one unclouded day of enjoyment, had to the grandmother been long years of the most intense grief and constant anxiety, and she had no pleasant associations with the place.
The little Lowland farm, once occupied by her parents, and which had been her own patrimony, was now again, she had learned, for sale. It was the scene of her own childhood and youth. It was consecrated to her by the tender memories of her parents and her only child. Here she was born. Its kindly roof had given her a shelter when she came back to it a deserted wife or desolate widow.
It was near enough to England to enable her to see and hear from her beloved grandchild regularly; and the quiet grave-yard where her parents slept was now to her the
