"I have a plan in my mind-may I tell you? You wont be grieved with me, will you?" "No, my child."

And, putting aside her knitting, she stole to Mr. Ashton's side, and took hold of his hand. Grandpapa, I wish to have a class in the Sunday-school."

"You surprise me, my dear. What can have put that into your head?"

"Ellen Ansted has just taken one, and I think I could manage one, too."

"But how can you teach a class? How can you correct their reading, for instance, when you cannot see them?"

"Is that your only objection, grandpapa,-because I am blind? Would you let me take a class if I could see?"

"Perhaps I might, if you were well enough." "I think it would do me good,-it would give me employment. I shall get you to read over to me the chapter for the lesson till I have got it by heart; and then, when the girls read it over on Sunday, I shall know whether their reading is correct. All the Collects I know, and the Catechism with Scripture proofs; and I

think, if you will allow me to try, I shall be able to do some little good."

"And if I should think it unwise, and should not consent, Maud?"

"I shall feel very sorry, for I have been thinking about it so long; but I shall know that your judgment will be kind and just."

66

Well, we must hear what Mr. Ansted says, and then we can talk it over again. But in the damp weather, what will you do then, Maud?" "I shall ask Mrs. Jackson to let me have my class at home."

Maud carried the day in this matter also, and in a few Sundays after she was duly installed in her post as a teacher in Mr. Ansted's Sundayschool. It was a novel thing both for the teacher and her pupils, but she succeeded even better than she had expected. One or two of the girls seemed inclined at first to take advantage of her blindness; but her kind manner soon won their affection, and Maud's class became one of the most tractable and best conducted in the school.

Her hands were now full of occupation, and as the spring advanced, she appeared to improve

in health, and to have greater strength for carrying out the plans of usefulness which she proposed to herself. She was better known and more beloved than ever in the village now that she went often to the cottages of the people; the poor used to bless her in their hearts when they saw her; her cheerful greeting was so pleasant, they said, and she was always thinking of some fresh kindness. Even Lawrence Lee, the cobbler, who was for ever at the alehouse, and who had insulted and abused the parson,-was civil and respectful to her when she talked to him. And as for Maud herself, she found a happiness in trying to do good.

As the fine weather came on, Maud was seen more frequently making cautious progress through the village street, and finding her way to the houses where she wished to go, with an accuracy that was surprising to witness; for when she had once got acquainted with the people, she often made her visit alone, and she preferred to do so. Bustle was generally with her, it is true, but he did not act, as the dogs of many blind persons do, in the capacity of a guide. Bustle would never have submitted to have a string attached to his collar, and to go steadily forward with a slow and measured pace, foregoing all his wayward tricks and all his tendency to ramble; and indeed it was not necessary, for Maud knew the road without his help. Tapping gently on the

kerb-stone or on the fence with her little walking-stick, she felt her way; and the cottagers, when they heard that sound at their garden-gate, came and opened the door, and welcomed her to their houses. Large demands were made on Maud's account upon Mrs. Jackson's department, in the shape of mutton-broth and arrow-root, and such like comforts for the sick and weakly. From anybody else that worthy woman would have considered such demands presumptuous and unwarrantable, but coming from Maud she did not think for a moment of the trouble which they caused her; they were only additional proofs to her of that dear young lady's kind-heartedness,—and in Mrs. Jackson's eyes they only served to increase her resemblance to "the blessed angels in heaven," to whom she so often compared her.

Maud was tapping her way past the school play-ground one day, and the children were busy and merry at their games within, the sound of their mirthfulness always had a charm for her, and she could have hearkened for hours to the shouts, and laughter, and busy hurrying to and fro which accompany the sports of children.