irth.

"We can get out our sleds in the morning, can't we, Mary?" said Master
Ned. "I'm so glad you finished my mittens last Saturday. I told Tom
Kelly I hoped it would snow soon, for I wanted to see how warm they
were. Wont I make the ice-balls fly!"

Ned had grown energetic with the thought, and seizing his mother's
ball of worsted aimed it at poor puss, who was sleeping quietly before
the blazing fire. Alas! for Neddy--puss but winked her great sleepy
eyes as the ball whizzed past, and was buried in the pile of ashes
that had gathered around the huge "back-log." His mother did not
scold; she had never been known to disturb the serenity of the good
deacon by an ebullition of angry words. Indeed, the neighbors often
said she was _too_ quiet, letting the children have their own way.
'Mrs. Gordon chose to rule by the law of love, a mode of government
little understood by those around her. Could they have witnessed Ned's
penitent look, when his mother simply said--"Do you see how much
trouble you have given me, my son?" they would not have doubted its
efficacy.

The deacon said nothing, but opened the almanac he had just taken down
from its allotted corner, and thought, as he searched for "Nov. 25th,"
that he had the best wife in the world, and if his children were not
good it was their own fault. The great maxim of the deacon's life had
been "let well enough alone"--but not always seeing clearly what was
"well enough," he was often surprised when he found matters did not
turn out as he had expected. This had made him comparatively a poor
man, though the fine farm he had inherited from his father should
have rendered him perfectly independent of the world. Little by little
had been sold, until it was not more than half its original size, and
the remainder, far less fertile than of old, scarce yielded a
sufficient support for his now numerous family. He had a holy horror
of debt, however--and with his wife's rigid and careful economy, he
managed to balance accounts at the end of the year. But this was
all--there was nothing in reserve--should illness or misfortune
overtake him, life's struggle would be hard indeed for his youthful
family.

The deacon was satisfied--he had found the day of the month, and in a
spirit of prophecy quite remarkable, the context added, "Snow to be
expected about this time."

"It's late enough for snow, that's true," said he, as he carefully
replaced his "farmer's library," then remarking