ittle long!"

"Malachi Bone, is a happier man than hundreds in England who live in
luxury. Let us profit, my dear children, by his example, and learn to
be content with what Heaven has bestowed upon us. But it is time to
retire. The wind has risen, and we shall have a blustering night.
Henry, fetch me the book."

CHAPTER TWENTY.

THE SQUAW SAVED.

Alfred and Martin brought in the wolf which Emma had killed, but it was
frozen so hard, that they could not skin it. Poor little Trim was also
carried in, but the ground was too hard frozen for them to bury the
body, so they put it into the snow until the spring, when a thaw would
take place. As for the wolf, they said nothing about it, but they
remained up when the rest of the family retired, and after the wolf had
been some time before the fire, they were able to take off the skin.

On the following morning, when the hunters went out, they were
particularly desired to shoot a wild turkey if they could, as the next
day was Christmas-day.

"Let us take 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 duffel 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 ha