and the sense of beauty can find abundant gratification. Mildred
felt that only extreme poverty could rob them in summer of many
simple yet genuine pleasures. When, after their frugal supper, she
and her father strolled through a path winding around a miniature
lake on which swans were floating, she believed that one of her chief
fears might be unfounded. Her love of beauty need not be stifled,
since there was so much, even in the crowded town, which could be
seen without cost.

"Papa," she said, "our lives will not be meagre and colorless unless
we make them so. Every tree and shrub--indeed every leaf upon them
and every ripple on the water--seems beautiful to me this evening.
I do not fear working hard if we can often have these inexpensive
pleasures. The thing in poverty that has most troubled me was the
fear that one's nature might become blunted, callous, and unresponsive.
A starved soul and heart seem to me infinitely worse than a starved
body. Thank God, this beautiful place is as free to us now as ever,
and I think we enjoy it more than many of those people in yonder
carriages. Then at the cost of a few pennies we can get many a breezy
outlook, and fill our lungs with fresh air on the ferryboats. So
don't let us be downhearted, papa, and mope while we are waiting
for better days. Each day may bring us something that we can enjoy
with honest zest."

"God bless you, Millie," replied her father. "We'll try to do just
as you suggest." Nevertheless he sighed deeply. She was free; he
was a slave. In the depths of the placid lake the graceful swans,
the pretty wooded shores, were faithfully reflected. In Mildred's
clear blue eyes the truth of her words, the goodness and sincerity
of her heart, were revealed with equal certainty. His eyes were