ave no home, sir," replied poor Margaret. "I lived at
the nearest farm-house, but my master was angry with me for not bringing
in the wood, and beat me, and turned me out of doors; and I shall die of
cold very soon, unless you take care of me, sir." "Poor little deserted
one!" said the gentleman, jumping off from his horse. "Such a tiny thing
as she, cannot have done any thing very bad--and to send her out to die!
poor child! God sent me to you, and I will surely take care of you." So
saying, he took off his cloak, lined with warm fur, and shaking the snow
from her hair and clothes, carefully wrapped it around her, and placed
her in front of him upon his horse. "My good, thoughtful wife!" said he;
"when I laughed at you this morning for insisting upon my wearing this
cloak outside my great-coat, little did I think it would save a precious
life--I always do find it to my advantage to mind your womanly, wifely
instincts. And now, little girl, we will go home as fast as we can--I
will try to keep Jack Frost away from you with this cloak." Urging his
horse onward, Mr. Norton, for that was the good man's name, every now
and then spoke cheerily to the child whom he sustained with one arm,
striving to keep her awake, and telling her of the bright warm fire she
should see when they got home. At last they arrived there: when Mr.
Norton jumped off his horse, Margaret saw that they had come to a small
town, which looked very pretty as the snow lay upon the roofs and
fences. Before he could ring, the door flew open, and the warm light,
which looked like an embodiment of the love and happiness of home and
fireside pleasures, streamed out upon the pure, cold snow, revealing, to
the group within doors, the father carefully holding his burden. "Dear
father! are you not almost perished?" cried his oldest son, Frederic, a
manly little fellow, muffled up in cap, and coat, and worsted scarf.
"You must let me take old Charlie to the stable, and come in yourself
and thaw--you see I am all ready." "Well, my son, I believe I will;
particularly as I have a bundle here that I must take care of." "What
has father got?" said the younger children, wonderingly. "Why, it as
large as a bag of potatoes!" "I have brought you home a little sister,
children," Mr. Norton replied, entering the sitting-room and unwrapping
poor Margaret. "My dear wife, I found this child upon the road, almost
perished with cold: she is an orphan, and was cruelly treated by the