e, while a fat chub of a boy, about two years old, was playing on
the floor with a couple of kittens.

The mother, as she evidently was, turned her head so as to face the
visitor, nodded cheerily, bade him good afternoon, and told him to help
himself to one of the chairs, whose bottoms were made of white mountain
ash, as fine and pliable as silken ribbons.

Sam was naturally courteous, and, thanking the lady for her invitation,
he sat down, placing his cap on his knee. He said he was out on a hunt
with some friends, and coming upon the cabin thought he would make a
call, and learn whether he could be of any service to the lady and her
child.

The mother thanked him, and said that fortunately she was not in need of
any help, as her husband was well and able to provide her with all she
needed.

Without giving the conversation in detail, it may be said that Sam
Harper learned a lesson, during his brief stay in that humble cabin,
which will go with him through life: it was a lesson of cheerfulness and
contentment, to which he often refers, and which makes him thankful that
he was led to turn aside from his sport even for a short while.

The husband of the woman worked for a farmer who lived fully four miles
away, on the northern edge of the woods, and who paid only scant wages.
The employee walked the four miles out so as to reach the farm by seven
o'clock in the morning, and he did not leave until six in the evening.
He did this summer and winter, through storm and sunshine, and was
happy.

He lived in the lonely log cabin, because his employer owned it and gave
him the rent free. It had been erected by some wood-choppers several
years before, and was left by them when through with their contract, so
that it was nothing to any one who did not occupy it.

The young man, although now the embodiment of rugged health and
strength, had lain on a bed of sickness for six months, during which he
hovered between life and death. His wife never left his side during that
time for more than a few minutes, and the physician was scarcely less
faithful. At last the wasting fever vanished, and the husband and father
came back to health and strength again.

But he was in debt to the extent of $200, and he and his wife determined
on the most rigid economy until the last penny should be paid.

"If Fred keeps his health," said the cheery woman, "we shall be out of
debt at the end of two years more. Won't you bring your friends and st