and draw water: they assembled on
foraging expeditions, or axe in hand felled the trees for fuel. The females
received them on their return with the simple and affectionate welcome
known before only to the lowly cottage--a clean hearth and bright fire;
the supper ready cooked by beloved hands; gratitude for the provision for
to-morrow's meal: strange enjoyments for the high-born English, yet they
were now their sole, hard earned, and dearly prized luxuries.

None was more conspicuous for this graceful submission to circumstances,
noble humility, and ingenious fancy to adorn such acts with romantic
colouring, than our own Clara. She saw my despondency, and the aching cares
of Idris. Her perpetual study was to relieve us from labour and to spread
ease and even elegance over our altered mode of life. We still had some
attendants spared by disease, and warmly attached to us. But Clara was
jealous of their services; she would be sole handmaid of Idris, sole
minister to the wants of her little cousins; nothing gave her so much
pleasure as our employing her in this way; she went beyond our desires,
earnest, diligent, and unwearied,--

Abra was ready ere we called her name,
And though we called another, Abra came.[2]

It was my task each day to visit the various families assembled in our
town, and when the weather permitted, I was glad to prolong my ride, and to
muse in solitude over every changeful appearance of our destiny,
endeavouring to gather lessons for the future from the experience of the
past. The impatience with which, while in society, the ills that afflicted
my species inspired me, were softened by loneliness, when individual
suffering was merged in the general calamity, strange to say, less
afflicting to contemplate. Thus often, pushing my way with difficulty
through the narrow snow-blocked town, I crossed the bridge and passed
through Eton. No youthful congregation of gallant-hearted boys thronged the
portal of the college; sad silence pervaded the busy school-room and noisy
playground. I extended my ride towards Salt Hill, on every side impeded by
the snow. Were those the fertile fields I loved--was that the interchange
of gentle upland and cultivated dale, once covered with waving corn,
diversified by stately trees, watered by the meandering Thames? One sheet
of white covered it, while bitter recollection told me that cold as the
winter-clothed earth, were the hearts of the inhabitants. I met troops of
ho