confused the print and made all the letters run into long words. Then,
would he press his hands across his eyes and wonder why they pained him
so; and when the candles were lighted, what was the reason that they
burned so dimly, like the moon in a foggy night? Poor little fellow!
So far as his eyes were concerned he was already an old man, and needed
a pair of spectacles almost as much as his own grandfather did.

And now, alas! the time was come when even grandfather's spectacles
could not have assisted Edward to read. After a few bitter tears, which
only pained his eyes the more, the poor boy submitted to the surgeon's
orders. His eyes were bandaged, and, with his mother on one side and
his little friend Emily on the other, he was led into a darkened
chamber.

"Mother, I shall be very miserable!" said Edward, sobbing.

"O no, my dear child!" replied his mother, elicerfully. "Your eyesight
was a precious gift of Heaven, it is true; but you would do wrong to be
miserable for its loss, even if there were no hope of regaining it.
There are other enjoyments besides what come to us through our eyes."

"None that are worth having," said Edward.

"Ah, but you will not think so long," rejoined Mrs. Temple, with
tenderness. "All of us--your father, and myself, and George, and our
sweet Emily--will try to find occupation and amusement for you. We will
use all our eyes to make you happy. Will they not be better than a
single pair?"

"I will sit, by you all day long," said Emily, in her low, sweet voice,