one; and the mother sat by the bed of the youngest, and announced
to all the rest that they were to be quiet, for little sister was
going to say her prayers.

"I looked in, over the lamp, into the little maiden's bed, where she
lay under the neat white coverlet, her hands folded demurely and her
little face quite grave and serious. She was praying the Lord's prayer
aloud. But her mother interrupted her in the middle of her prayer.
'How is it,' she asked, 'that when you have prayed for daily bread,
you always add something I cannot understand? You must tell me what
that is.' The little one lay silent, and looked at her mother in
embarrassment. 'What is it you say after _our daily bread_?' 'Dear
mother, don't be angry: I only said, _and plenty of butter on it_.'"

THE STORY OF THE YEAR.

It was far in January, and a terrible fall of snow was pelting down.
The snow eddied through the streets and lanes; the window-panes seemed
plastered with snow on the outside; snow plumped down in masses from
the roofs: and a sudden hurry had seized on the people, for they ran,
and flew, and fell into each others' arms, and as they clutched each
other fast for a moment, they felt that they were safe at least for
that length of time. Coaches and horses seemed frosted with sugar. The
footmen stood with their backs against the carriages, so as to turn
their faces from the wind. The foot passengers kept in the shelter of
the carriages, which could only move slowly on in the deep snow; and
when the storm at last abated, and a narrow path was swept clean
alongside the houses, the people stood still in this path when they
met, for none liked to take the first step aside into the deep snow to
let the other pass him. Thus they stood silent and motionless, till,
as if by tacit consent, each sacrificed one leg, and stepping aside,
buried it in the deep snow-heap.

Towards evening it grew calm. The sky looked as if it had been swept,
and had become more lofty and transparent. The stars looked as if they
were quite new, and some of them were amazingly bright and pure. It
froze so hard that the snow creaked, and the upper rind of snow might
well have grown hard enough to bear the sparrows in the morning dawn.
These little birds hopped up and down where the sweeping had been
done; but they found very little food, and were not a little cold.

"Piep!" said one of them to another; "they call this a new year, and
it is worse than the last! We m