ed her good-night with a full heart. She was proud of
her children; and few mothers have more reason for the natural
feeling. "I cannot bear to disappoint her," thought she, yet the
scheme seemed every moment more childish and impracticable.

James rose, not with the sun, but long before it; and when his father
came down, he was already busily employed in clearing a path to the
well and the barn--for the snow had fallen so heavily, that the drifts
gathered by the night wind, in its rude sport, were piled to the very
windows, obscuring the misty light of the winter's morn. How beautiful
were those snow-wreaths in their perfect purity! The brown and knotted
fences, the dingy out-buildings, were all covered with dazzling
drapery; and the leafless trees were bowed beneath the weight of a
fantastic foliage that glittered in the clear beams of the rising sun
with a splendor that was almost painful to behold.

"It wont last long with this sun," said the deacon, as he tied a
'comforter' about his throat; "but perhaps you'll have time to give
Mary and the children a ride before the roads are bare again. Mary
must do all her sleighing this winter, for she won't have much time if
she goes to the factory, poor child!"

The deacon passed on with heavy strides to the barn-yard, and left
James to hope that their petition was not rejected. It was not many
minutes after that Mary came bounding down the stone-steps, heedless
of the snow in which she trod; and the instant he looked upon her face
he was no longer in doubt.

"_Isn't_ mother good, James! She just called me into her room, and
told me that father and she have concluded we can try it at least; and
Stephen is not to know any thing about it until next April, when I am
to go. We must both of us study very hard this winter, and I shall
have such a deal of sewing to do."

Mary spoke with delighted eagerness. One would have thought, beholding
her joy, that it was a pleasant journey which she anticipated, or that
a fortune had unexpectedly been left to her; and yet the spring so
longed for, would find her among strangers, working in a close and
crowded room through the bright days. But a contented spirit hath its
own sunshine; and the dearest pleasure that mankind may know, is
contributing to the happiness of those we love. The less selfish our
devotion to friends, the more sacrificing our self-denial in their
behalf, the greater is the reward; so Mary's step was more elastic
th