mation similar to that of her dress, where substantial, neat, warm, and lasting garments had been substituted for dirty finery.
Mrs. Aikin was not one of those selfish parents who make it a sort of duty to cast aside whatever can possibly interfere with the advancement of their own offspring. She was willing to take something from their abundant portion to give to this little orphan in the human family. She sometimes feared Juliet might exhaust Mr. Barlow's patience; but he seemed rather to pity her ignorance and carelessness than to be irritated by them. He was drawn to her by some resemblance in their fate. Both seemed dropped links from the chain of humanity; both to have been the objects of the intervention of Providence, and both to have been cast upon the same charity. In speaking of Juliet to Mrs. Aikin, Mr. Barlow adverted to the reasons for the interest he felt in the child; and "yet," he said, "this is not all; her look, when she suddenly turns her eye, or that imploring expression when she fears she has displeased me, put me so in mind of one that's gone: her voice, too, when she speaks low, Mistress Aikin, it makes my heart throb, and the perspiration stand in the hollow of my hand."
"You have not gained your strength yet," replied Mrs. Aikin, "and a little matter affects you."
"It is not a little matter, my good friend; I have thought there was a possibility—but that is foolish, and I will not talk about it. It will cost me much to part from her, as well as the rest of you; but now there is no reason I should encumber you any longer, for the old rule does not always hold good
