working rules to the good sense and good feeling of his people.

Miss Silence had been waiting for her opportunity to apply the great
doctrine, and it came at last in a very trivial way.

"Myrtle does n't want brown bread. Myrtle won't have brown bread. Myrtle
will have white bread."

"Myrtle is a wicked child. She will have what Aunt Silence says she
shall have. She won't have anything but brown bread."

Thereupon the bright red lip protruded, the hot blood mounted to her
face, the child untied her little "tire," got down from the table, took
up her one forlorn, featureless doll, and went to bed without her supper.
The next morning the worthy woman thought that hunger and reflection
would have subdued the rebellious spirit. So there stood yesterday's
untouched supper waiting for her breakfast. She would not taste it, and
it became necessary to enforce that extreme penalty of the law which had
been threatened, but never yet put in execution. Miss Silence, in
obedience to what she felt to be a painful duty, without any passion, but
filled with high, inexorable purpose, carried the child up to the garret,
and, fastening her so that she could not wander about and hurt herself,
left her to her repentant thoughts, awaiting the moment when a plaintive
entreaty for liberty and food should announce that the evil nature had
yielded and the obdurate will was broken.

The garret was an awful place. All the skeleton-like ribs of the roof
showed in the dim light, naked overhead, and the only floor to be trusted
consisted of the few boards which bridged the lath and plaster. A great,
mysterious brick tower climbed up through it,--it was the chimney, but it