THE GOOD SAMARITAN. 83 



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and wet, bitter seemed her end, and very bitter, one might 

 have supposed, her thoughts against the "many friends" 

 who with power, and close at hand, were letting her die all 

 unheeded and alone. But, somehow, it often happens that 

 when our troubles seem, to others, at their very sharpest, we 

 find that, to ourselves, their edge is already blunted. So at 

 least it was with the troubles, and with the anger too (if any 

 she had ever felt) of our sleeper awakened. Sleep himself, 

 that " kind restorer " from whose embraces she had broken only 

 to encounter a world of wo, had once more lifted her into his 

 arms, and was going to transfer her gently to those of his 

 " brother Death." In plain parlance, she had fallen into a nap 

 which promised to be much longer even than her last, when she 

 was suddenly awoke by a gentle tapping on the outside of her 

 hollow oak tree. On opening her eyes, she could just discern 

 by the light of the setting sun, not a " Woodpecker," who 

 would have been to her of all visitants the most unwelcome, 

 but the young face of one belonging to the numerous family, 

 all of whom she had reason to believe alike hard-hearted. 

 This little creature had heard and pitied the story of her 

 distress, when she thought she had related it to none but dull 

 cold ears, and hers, too, were among the prying eyes which 

 had noticed the suppliant's unpurposed return. Now that 

 her elders were again busy with their pipes (having none other 

 occupation), the kind-hearted soul had crept round to the 

 hiding place of their uninvited guest, to offer her her own 



