ance. If you
keep on sweeping as fast as it falls, you must overcome it. Don't you
see, Uncle Sam?"

"To be sure I do, Miss Rema, as plain as any pikestaff. Suan, fetch a
double bundle of new brooms from top loft, and don't forget while you
be up there to give special orders--no snow is to fall at night or when
missy is at dinner."

"You may laugh as much as you please, Uncle Sam, but I intend to try it.
I must try to keep my path to--somewhere."

"What a fool I am, to be sure!" said Mr. Gundry, softly. "There, now, I
beg your pardon, my dear, for never giving a thought to it. Firm and I
will do it for you, as long as the Lord allows of it. Why, the snow is
two foot deep a'ready, and twenty foot in places. I wonder whether that
rogue of a Goad got home to Sylvester's ranch last night? No fault of
mine if he never did, for go he would in spite of me."

I had not been thinking of Mr. Goad, and indeed I did not know his
name until it was told in this way. My mind was dwelling on my father's
grave, where I used to love to sit and think; and I could not bear the
idea of the cold snow lying over it, with nobody coming to care for him.
Kind hands had borne him down the mountains (while I lay between life
and death) and buried him in the soft peach orchard, in the soothing
sound of the mill-wheel. Here had been planted above his head a cross
of white un-painted wood, bearing only his initials, and a small "Amen"
below them.

With this I was quite content, believing that he would have wished no
better, being a very independent man, and desirous of no kind of pomp.
There was no "consecrated ground" within miles and miles of traveling;
but I hoped that he might rest as well with simple tears to hallow it.
For often and often, even now, I could not help giving way and sobbing,
when I thought how sad it was that a strong, commanding, mighty man, of
great will and large experience, should drop in a corner of the world
and die, and finally be thought lucky--when he could think for himself
no longer--to obtain a tranquil, unknown grave, and end with his
initials, and have a water-wheel to sing to him. Many a time it set
me crying, and made me long to lie down with him, until I thought of
earth-worms.

All that could be done was done by Sampson and Firm Gundry, to let me
have my clear path, and a clear bourne at the end of it. But even with a
steam snow-shovel they could not have kept the way unstopped, such solid
masses of the