more--neither shall the sun light on her, nor any heat."

A LITTLE BOY WITH A BIG HEART.

Such a rich man as little Georgey's father was; so _many_ houses, and
shops, and farms as he owned; so many horses and carriages; such a big
house as he lived in, by the Park, and so many servants as he had in
it,--but he loved little Georgey better than any of them, and bought
him toys enough to fill a shop, live animals enough to stock a
menagerie, and jackets and trousers enough to clothe half the boys in
New-York.

Georgey was a pretty boy; he had a broad, noble forehead, large, dark,
loving eyes, and a form as straight and lithe as a little Indian's. His
mother was very proud of him,--not because he was good, but because he
was pretty. She was a very foolish woman, and talked to him a great
deal about his fine clothes, and his curling hair; but for all that she
didn't make out to spoil Georgey. _He_ didn't care an old marble, not
he, for all the fine clothes in Christendom; and would have been glad
to have had every curl on his merry little head clipped off.

Georgey had no brothers or sisters. He was so sorry for that--he would
rather have had such a playmate than all the toys his father bought
him. His little heart was brim full of love, and his birds, and
rabbits, and ponies were well enough, but they couldn't say, "Georgey,
I love you;" neither could he make them understand what he was thinking
about; so he wearied of them, and would often linger in the street, and
look after the little groups of children so wistfully, that I quite
pitied him. I used to think that, with all his money, he wasn't half as
happy as little Pat and Neil Connor, two little Irish brothers who
played hop-scotch every day under my window.

* * *

It was a very cold day in January. Jack Frost had been out all day on a
frolic, and was still busily at work. He had drawn all sorts of
pictures on the window panes, such as beautiful trees and flowers, and
great towering castles, and tall-masted ships, and church spires, and
little cottages, (so oddly shaped); beside birds that "Audubon" never
dreamed of, and animals that Noah never huddled into the ark. Then he
festooned all the eaves, the fences, and trees, and bushes with crystal
drops, which sparkled and glittered in the sunbeams like royal
diamonds--then he hung icicles on the poor old horses' noses, and
tripped up the heels of precise old bach