AUNT ESTHER S STORIES. 



A UNT ESTHER used to be a constant attendant upon 

 ^ ^ us young ones whenever we were a little ill, or any 

 of the numerous accidents of childhood overtook us. In 

 such seasons of adversity she always came to sit by our 

 bedside, and take care of us. She did not, as some people 

 do, bring a long face and a doleful whining voice into a 

 sick-room, but was always so bright, and cheerful, and 

 chatty, that we began to think it was almost worth while 

 to be sick to have her about us. I remember that once, 

 when I had the quinsy, and my throat was so swollen that 

 it brought the tears every time I swallowed, Aunt Esther 

 talked to me so gayly, and told me so many stories, that I 

 found myself laughing heartily, and disposed to regard my 

 aching throat as on the whole rather an amusing circum 

 stance. 



Aunt Esther s stories were not generally fairy tales, but 

 stories about real things, and more often on her favorite 

 subject of the habits of animals, and the different animals 

 she had known, than about anything else. 



One of these was a famous Newfoundland dog, named 

 Prince, which belonged to an uncle of hers in the country, 

 and was, as we thought, a far more useful and faithful 



