"Daily striving, though so lonely,
Every day reward shall give,
Thou shalt find by striving only,
And in loving, thou canst live."
Miss Edwards.

"On dear!" said Annie Burton, as she sat down under the old apple-tree
by the spring; "I wonder what ails me; there's been such a choking
feeling in my throat all this afternoon, and though I winked and
swallowed with all my might, the tears would come in spite of myself.
Here I've been wandering for more than three hours, up hill and down,
through brambles and brier-bushes; my hands are scratched and bloody,
and the sun has burnt me as brown as a berry. Three long precious hours
in the sunny month of August! and what does it all amount to? Why, I
have picked a basket of berries that can be eaten in half an hour; and
here is a bunch of flowers for little Katie, that she will take and
admire, and then tear to pieces; that will be the end of them. But that
isn't the worst of all; no, not by a great deal; there is a great rent
in my frock, gaping and staring at me, waiting to be mended; and nobody
knows how long 't will take me to do that. Oh dear! how I hate to work!
I don't see how it is; there's mother takes care of the children, sews,
makes bread and washes the dishes, just as willingly and cheerfully as
if she were playing on the piano or reading a pleasant book. They say
that good people are always happy; but I _never_ am. Oh, I believe I am
the worst creature that ever lived!" and she bent her head upon her lap
and burst into tears.

It was not long before she was roused by the sound of footsteps; she
raised her head, and saw an old woman coming down the road with a large