h an open volume in her hand, "that papa was as homely
and awkward when a boy and young man as this writer describes him?
'Tow-head,' 'gawky,' 'plain,' and 'clownish,' are some of the most
uncomplimentary epithets applied to him. He is described as having
'white hair with a tinge of orange at the ends,' and as 'eating as if
for a wager;' while grandpapa, the writer says, was so poor that papa
had to walk barefooted over the thistles, without a jacket, and in
trousers cut with an utter disregard of elegance or fit, and it was
remarked that they were _always_ short in the legs, while one was
invariably shorter than the other. Was it possible that grandpapa
could not afford an inch more of cloth to make poor papa's trousers of
equal length, and was it true that papa never had but two shirts at a
time until he came to New York, and that he never had any gloves? When
he was an apprentice in Portland every one used to pity him, Mr. ------
says, as he walked shivering to the _Spectator_ office on cold winter
days, thinly clad, and with his gloveless hands thrust into his pockets
to protect them from being frost-bitten!"

"My child, you overwhelm me with your questions," said mamma. "Let me
take them singly, and I will do my best to refute this writer's
unpleasant statements.

"First as to personal appearance. You say he styles your papa 'plain'
as a boy. That is absurd, for his features, like mother's, were as
perfect as a piece of Grecian sculpture. 'Tow-head' is also a
mis-statement. Brother's hair never was at any time tow-color, and the
tinge of orange at the ends existed only in the author's imagination.
Tow-color, you know, is a sort of dirty white or gray; whereas
brother's hair, until he was thirty years old, was like Raffie's, pure
white. After that time, it commenced to change to a pale gold-color,
which never, however, deepened into orange. What was your next
question, my dear?"

"About papa's wardrobe," said Gabrielle, her cheeks still flushed with
excitement; "were you indeed so miserably poor, auntie?"

"We were certainly very poor after father failed," said mamma firmly,
"but we were by no means reduced to abjectness. I can never remember
the time, in our poorest days, when the boys had not, besides their
brown linen work-day shirts, cotton shirts for Sunday, and father his
'fine shirt' to wear to church and for visiting. Your papa was dressed
suitably for our station in life--neither better nor