ppy 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."

Emma went up to Mr Campbell and kissed him, and Mr Campbell said,
"Well, I hope there will be a turkey, since you wish for one."

The hunters did not return till late, and when they appeared in sight,
Percival, who had descried them, came in and said that they were very
well loaded, and were bringing in their game slung upon a pole.

Mary and Emma went out of the door to meet their cousins. That there
was a heavy load carried on a pole between Martin and Alfred was
certain, but they could not distinguish what it consisted of. As the
party arrived at the palisade gates, however, they discovered that it
was not game, but a human being, who was carried on a sort of litter
made of boughs.

"What is it, Alfred!" said Mary.

"Wait till I recover my breath," said Alfred, as he reached the door,
"or ask Henry, for I'm quite knocked up."

Henry then went with his cousins into the house, and explained to them
that as they were in pursuit of the wild turkeys, Oscar had stopped
suddenly and commenced baying; that they went up to the dog, and, in a
bush, they found a poor Indian woman nearly frozen to death, and with a
dislocation of the ankle, so severe that her leg was terribly swelled,
and she could not move. Martin had spoken to her in the Indian tongue,
and she was so exhausted with cold and hunger, that she could just tell
him that she belonged to a small party of Indians who had been some days
out hunting, and