d the conversation into another channel, and talked so strongly
about his great desire to master this art of painting, while I wondered
to myself how it had happened that these hearts were gathered to our
own and had become members of our household, coming, as they did, like
rare exotics, to live and blossom among us plain hollyhocks and
dandelions. Hal I could liken to a rare flower, but then he was only one
among our number, and in all our family and friends there were none
possessing the gifts of these two souls which had come to us so
strangely.

Aunt Hildy said, "The ways of life are past all comprehending." I
thought so too. Christmas came on Sunday in this year of our Lord
eighteen-hundred-and-forty-two, and for this I rejoiced and was glad.
When it came on a week-day, it seemed like Sunday, and although now and
then we had some really interesting sermons, there was not enough to
fill two sabbaths coming so near together, and it gave me a restless
sort of feeling, especially so, when I knew how quiet and solemn my
father used to be all day, and also his great desire that we should
imitate him.

I had been a member of our old church three years, and while I desired
to live a Christian life, I could never feel that a long face, and
solemnly pronounced words made any difference in my real life. Father
did not believe any more in long faces than I did, still, I think from
fear of neglecting any part of his duty, he maintained a serious
demeanor from the break of our Sabbath days to their close. He had an
unusually beautiful way of asking a blessing that always gave me a happy
feeling. He merely said in a pleasant way, and with open eyes: "We
should be very thankful for this meal; may we have wisdom to prepare no
unsavory dishes, and strength to earn for ourselves, and others if
necessary, the bread we daily need." This gave us a thought (that never
grew old with me) of the needs of our neighbor, and also seemed so
rational, and fitted our needs so perfectly. Aunt Hildy called it a
common-sense blessing. I remember well how she spoke of it, in contrast
with Deacon Grover's long-drawn-out table prayers, saying with emphasis;
"The man, if he is a deacon, has a right to grow better, and we know he
asks God to bless things cattle couldn't eat."

Christmas, we all went to church, and although it was more than a mile,
aunt Hildy refused to ride.

"Let me walk as long as I can, time enough to ride by and by, and I'm
onl