elors, and sent the old maids
spinning round on the sidewalks, till they were perfectly ashamed of
themselves; and then he got into the houses, and burst and cracked all
the water pitchers, and choked up the steady old pump, so that it might
as well have been without a nose as with one, and pinched the cheeks of
the little girls till they were as red as a pulpit cushion, blew right
through the key hole on grandpa's poor, rheumatic old back, and ran
round the street corner, tearing open folks' cloaks, and shawls, and
furred wrappers, till they shook as if they had an ague fit. I verily
believe he'd just as quick trip up our minister's heels as yours or
mine! Oh, he is a graceless rogue--that Jack Frost! and many's the time
he's tipped Aunt Fanny's venerable nose with indigo.

Georgey didn't care a penny whistle for the fellow, all muffled up to
the chin in his little wadded velvet sack, with a rich cashmere scarf
of his mother's wound about his neck, and a velvet cap crushed down
over his bright, curly head.

How the sleighs did fly past! with their gaily fringed buffaloes, and
prancing horses necklaced with little tinkling bells. How merry the
pretty ladies peeped from out their gay worsted hoods! Oh! it was a
pretty sight,--Georgey liked it--everybody moved so briskly, and seemed
so happy!

What ails Georgey now? He has crossed the street, stopped short, and
the bright color flushes his cheeks, till he looks quite beautiful. Ah!
he has spied a little apple girl, seated upon the icy pavement. The
wind is making merry with her thin rags,--her little toes peep, blue
and benumbed, from out her half-worn shoes,--and she is blowing on her
stiffened fingers, vainly trying to keep them warm.

Georgey looked down at his nice warm coat, and then at Kate's thin
cotton gown. Georgey never was cold in his life, never hungry. His eyes
fill--his little breast heaves. Then quickly untwisting the thick, warm
scarf from his little throat, he throws it round her shivering form and
says, with a glad smile, _That will warm you!_--and bounds out of sight
before she can thank him. Old Mr. Prince stands by, wiping his eyes,
and says, "God bless the boy!--that's worth a dozen sermons; I'll send
a load of wood to little Kate's mother."

MAY MORNING.

Oh, May is a coquette! Don't trust her. She will smile on you one
minute, and frown on you the next--toss you flowers with one hand, and
hail stones with the other. _I_ know her. Man