of the struggling artist, and the true lover, who wins his bride by
patience, perseverance, and indomitable industry; a babbled of "Self
Help."

Meantime, Phoebe was not idle: an excellent business woman, she took
immediate advantage of a new station that was built near the farm, to
send up milk, butter, and eggs to London. Being genuine, they sold like
wildfire. Observing that, she extended her operations, by buying of
other farmers, and forwarding to London: and then, having of course an
eye to her struggling artist, she told her father she must have a shop
in London, and somebody in it she could depend upon.

"With all my heart, wench," said he; "but it must not be thou. I can't
spare thee."

"May I have Dick, father?"

"Dick! he is rather young."

"But he is very quick, father, and minds every word I tell him."

"Ay, he is as fond of thee as ever a cow was of a calf. Well, you can
try him."

So the love-sick woman of business set up a little shop, and put her
brother Dick in it, and all to see more of her struggling artist. She
stayed several days, to open the little shop, and start the business.
She advertised pure milk, and challenged scientific analysis of
everything she sold. This came of her being a reader; she knew, by the
journals, that we live in a sinful and adulterating generation, and