raising her eyes, she beheld a hideous old woman, with trembling hand and palsied limbs, leaning with difficulty on a rough stick, who seemed rather herself in need of assistance than in any degree able to afford it to others, she turned away her eyes, and replied, in a low disappointed tone of voice: “Good mother, why should you desire to know the subject of my tears, since it is not in your power to afford me any assistance?”—“Who knows,” replied the crone, “but I may be of use to you? At any rate, you may as well tell me the occasion of your grief.”—“You see,” replied the widow, “how it is with me; the time of my confinement is closely approaching, and I am wandering amid these wilds, alone and friendless.”—“As to that,” returned the old woman, “I can, I am afraid, be of little assistance. Never having been married myself, I know not how to aid ladies in your situation. But come with me to my house, I will do all I can for you.” The poor lady, in her distress, was glad to take the will for the deed, and under the guidance of the apparent senior of all the virgins of her time, reached a miserable cabin, where she found very little better accommodation than under the shelter of a tree. Here, however, with the aid, such as it was, of the Sybil, she, in an hour or two after, safely gave birth to a daughter, whom she herself nursed and tended as best she
