it was near time for
tea, he took up his blue homespun frock, and went out in the face of
the storm to see that the cattle were properly cared for. The deacon
daily exemplified the motto--"A merciful man is merciful to his
beast."

"Father is right," said Mrs. Gordon, using the familiar title so
commonly bestowed upon the head of the family in that section of
country. "Mary, it is quite time you were busy, and you, James, had
better get in the wood."

The young people to whom she spoke had been conversing apart at the
furthest window of the room. Mary, a girl of fifteen, James, scarce
more than a year her senior. They started at their mother's voice, as
if they had quite forgotten where they were, but in an instant
good-humoredly said she was right, and without delay commenced their
several tasks. James was assisted by Ned, who, since he had come into
possession of his first pair of boots--an era in the life of every
boy--had been promoted to the office of chip-gatherer; and Sue, a rosy
little girl of eight or nine, spread the table, while her sister
prepared the tea, cutting the snowy loaves made by her own hand; and
bringing a roll of golden butter she herself had moulded, Mrs. Gordon
gave a look of general supervision, and finished the preparations for
the evening meal by the addition of cheese--such as city people never
see--just as Mr. Gordon and James returned, stamping the snow from
their heavy boots, and sending a shower of drops from the already
melting mass which clung to them.

Never was there a happier group gathered about a farmer's table, and
when, with bowed head and solemn voice, the father had begged the
blessing of Heaven upon their simple fare, the children did ample
justice to the plain but substantial viands. Mrs. Gordon wondered how
they found time to eat, there was so much to be said on all sides; but
talk as they would--and it is an established fact that the
conversational powers of children are developed with greater
brilliancy at table than elsewhere--when the repast was finished there
was very little reason to complain on the score of bad appetites.

Then commenced the not unpleasant task of brightening and putting away
the oft used dishes. Mary and Sue were no loiterers, and by the time
their mother had swept the hearth, and arranged the displaced
furniture, cups and plates were shining on the dresser, as the red
fire-light gleamed upon them. The deacon sat gazing intently upon the
glow