Oscar with us," said Alfred; "he is very swift, and may run
them down; we never can get up with them in our snow-shoes."

"I wonder whether they will get a turkey," said Emma, after the hunting
party had left.

"I think it will be difficult," said Mrs. Campbell; "but they will try
all they can."

"I hope they will; for Christmas-day without a turkey will be very
un-English."

"We are not in England, my dear Emma," said Mr. Campbell; "and wild
turkeys are not to be ordered from the poulterer's."

"I know that we are not in England, my dear uncle, and I feel it too.
How was the day before every Christmas-day spent at Wexton Hall! What
piles of warm blankets, what a quantity of duffil cloaks, flannels, and
worsted stockings were we all so busy and so happy in preparing and
sorting to give away on the following morning, that all within miles of
us should be warmly clothed on that day. And, then, the housekeeper's
room with all the joints of meat, and flour and plums and suet, in
proportion to the number of each family, all laid out and ticketed ready
for distribution. And then the party invited to the servants' hall, and
the great dinner, and the new clothing for the school-girls, and the
church so gay, with their new dresses in the aisles, and the holly and
the mistletoe. I know we are not in England, my dear uncle, and that you
have lost one of your greatest pleasures--that of doing good, and making
all happy around you."

"Well, my dear Emma, if I have lost the pleasure of doing good, it is
the will of Heaven that it should be so, and we ought to be thankful
that, if not dispensing charity, at all events, we are not the objects
of charity to others; that we are independent, and earning an honest
livelihood. People may be very happy, and feel the most devout gratitude
on the anniversary of so great a mercy, without having a turkey for
dinner."

"I was not in earnest about the turkey, my dear uncle. It was the
association of ideas connected by long habit, which made me think of our
Christmas times at Wexton Hall; but, indeed, my dear uncle, if there was
regret, it was not for myself so much as for you," replied Emma, with
tears in her eyes.

"Perhaps I spoke rather too severely, my dearest Emma," said Mr.
Campbell; "but I did not like to hear such a solemn day spoken of as if
it were commemorated merely by the eating of certain food."

"It was foolish of me," replied Emma? "and it was said thoughtlessly."

Em