the old, protect the feeble, and serve womankind, regardless of
rank, age, or color. Just recollect the good aunts who have not
only lectured and fussed, but nursed and petted, too often with-
out thanks; the scrapes they have helped you out of, the "tips"
they have given you from their small store, the stitches the
patient old fingers have set for you, the steps the willing old
feet have taken, and gratefully pay the dear old ladies the little
attentions that women love to receive as long as they live. The
bright-eyed girls are quick to see such traits, and will like you
all the better for them; and if death, almost the only power that
can part mother and son, should rob you of yours, you will
be sure to find a tender welcome and maternal cherishing from
some Aunt Priscilla, who has kept the warmest corner of her
lonely old heart for "the best nevvy in the world."

Jo must have fallen asleep (as I dare say my reader has dur-
ing this little homily), for suddenly Laurie's ghost seemed to
stand before her, -- a substantial, lifelike ghost, -- leaning over
her, with the very look he used to wear when he felt a good
deal and didn't like to show it. But, like Jenny in the ballad, --

"She could not think it he,"

and lay staring up at him in startled silence, till he stooped and
kissed her. Then she knew him, and flew up, crying joyfully, --

"O my Teddy! O my Teddy!"

"Dear Jo, you are glad to see me, then?"

"Glad! My blessed boy, words can't express my gladness. Where's Amy?"

"Your mother has got her down at Meg's. We stopped there
by the way, and there was no getting my wife out of their
clutches."

"Your what?" cried Jo, for Laurie uttered those two
words with an unconscious pride and satisfaction which be-
trayed him.

"Oh, the dickens! now I've done it;" and he looked so
guilty that Jo was down upon him like a flash.

"You've gone and got married!"

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