caught sight of a dark tuft of slimy _Batrachospermum_ in its clear
depths, we plunged in to secure it for Mother, whether Julie or any
other Naiad liked it or no! But "the splendour in the grass and glory
in the flower" that we found in "St. Nicholas" was very deep and real,
thanks to all she wove around the spot for us. Even in childhood she
must have felt, and imparted to us, a great deal of what she put into
the hearts of the children in "Our Field."[5] To me this story is one
of the most beautiful of her compositions, and deeply characteristic
of the strong power she possessed of drawing happiness from little
things, in spite of the hindrances caused by weak health. Her fountain
of hope and thankfulness never ran dry.

[Footnote 5: "A Great Emergency, and other Tales."]

Madam Liberality was accustomed to disappointment.

From her earliest years it had been a family joke, that poor Madam
Liberality was always in ill-luck's way.

It is true that she was constantly planning; and, if one builds
castles, one must expect a few loose stones about one's ears now
and then. But, besides this, her little hopes were constantly being
frustrated by Fate.

If the pigs or the hens got into the garden, Madam Liberality's bed
was sure to be laid waste before any one came to the rescue. When
a picnic or a tea-party was in store, if Madam Liberality did not
catch cold, so as to hinder her from going, she was pretty sure to
have a quinsy from fatigue or wet feet afterwards. When she had a
treat, she paid for the pleasurable excitement by a head-ache, just