clock, I arrayed myself in my Sunday-clothes. I gave a
parting glance of triumph at my glass, and stepped briskly forth upon
the crispy snow. I met people well wrapped up, with mouth and nose
covered, and saw men leave working to thrash their hands. It must have
been cold, therefore; but I felt none of it.

Her house was half a mile distant. 'T was on a high bank a little back
from the road, of one story in front, and two at the sides. It was what
was called a single house; the front showed only two windows, with a
door near the corner. The sides were painted yellow, the front white,
with a green door. There was an orchard behind, and two poplar-trees
before it. The pathway up the bank was sprinkled with ashes. I had
frequently been as far as the door with her, evenings when I waited upon
her home; but I had never before approached the house by daylight,--that
is, any nearer than the road. I had never _said_ anything; it wasn't
time; but I had given her several little things, and had tried to be her
beau every way that I knew.

Before I began to notice her, I had never been about much with the
young folks,--partly because I was bashful, and partly because I was so
clumsy-looking. I was more in earnest, therefore, than if I had been
in the habit of running after the girls. After I began to like her,
I watched every motion,--at church, at evening meetings, at
singing-school; and a glance from her eye seemed to fall right upon my
heart. She had been very friendly and sociable with me, always thanked
me very prettily for what little trifles I gave her, and never refused
my company home. She would put her hand within my arm without a moment's
hesitation, chatting all the while, never seeming in the least to
suspect the shiver of joy which shot through my whole frame from the
little hand upon my coat-sleeve.

I had long been pondering in my mind, in my walks by day and my
lyings-down at night, what should be the next step, what _overt act_
I might commit; for something told me it was not yet time to _say_
anything.

What could have been more fortunate for my wishes, then, than the
project set on foot by the young people, of a grand sleighing-party on
New-Year's evening? They were mostly younger than myself, especially the
girls. Eleanor was but seventeen, I was twenty-three. But I determined
to join this party, and it was to invite Eleanor that I arrayed myself
and set forth, as above mentioned. It was a bold step for a b