s well as she could. As she sat there,
shivering, and thinking how differently she was situated on the last
snow-storm she remembered, when she was seated on a little stool,
between her mother and grandfather, holding a hand of each, before a
large blazing fire, and listening to beautiful tales--she heard Jackson
call her name in savage tones. She hastened, but before she could get
down the ladder which led to the room below, he called her again and
again, each time more fiercely so that her heart trembled like a leaf
upon a tree, dreading to meet his rage. He received her with oaths and
abuse; called her a lazy little wretch, who did not earn the bread she
eat, and commanded her to bring in an armful of wood from the pile, as
the fire was going out. She ventured to tell him that she had already
tried to find some, but ineffectually; in some places the snow was above
her head, and the air was so thick with it, now that night had come on,
that she could not see before her. But the violent man would take no
excuse: he drove her out with threats, and long she groped about, vainly
trying to discover the wood, which was completely hidden by the snow.
Her hands and feet became numb, and she felt that she _must_ return to
the house, if he killed her--she would otherwise die of the cold. She
came, timidly crawling into the room--the moment her master saw her, he
started up; fury made him look like a demon. Seizing a stick of wood
which still remained, he assailed her violently: the child, so tender
hearted, and so delicately reared, who could be recalled to duty by one
glance of the eye, was now subjected to the chastisement of a brutal,
insensate drunkard! At last he stopped, but his rage was not exhausted.
Opening the door, he told her never to darken it again--never more
should she dare to show herself within his house. Falling upon her
knees, the little girl besought him with tears not to expel her--she had
no one to go to, no father, no mother to take care of her. If she was
driven out into the snow, she should die with cold--if he would only
allow her to stay that night, she would leave on the morrow, if he
wished it! But tears and prayers were unavailing; all of man he had
ever had in his nature was now brutified by strong drink; as well might
she have knelt to the tiger thirsting for blood, as to him. Driving her
out with a curse, he shut and bolted the door.

The depths of distress call up energies, even in the childish