The Snow Image

a childish miracle

one afternoon on a cold winter’s day when the sun shone forth with chilly brightness

after a long storm, two children asked the life of their mother to run out and play

in new-fallen snow, the elder child was a little girl who, because she was of a tender

and modest disposition and was thought to be very beautiful; her parents

and other people who were familiar with her used to call her “Violet,” but her brother

was known by the style and title of peony on account of the ruddiness of his broad

and round little fists, which made everybody think of sunshine and great scarlet

flowers, the father of these two children, a certain Mr. Lindsey; it is important to say

that wasn’t excellent but exceedingly met her effect sort of man, a dealer in hardware

and was sturdily accustomed to taking what is called the common-sense view of all

matters that came under his consideration.

With a heart about as tender as other people’s, he had a head as hard

and impenetrable, and, therefore, perhaps as empty as one of the ironies was a part

of his business to sell.

The Mathers character, on the other hand, had a strain of poetry in it, a trade of

unworldly beauty, a delicate and young flower as it were that had survived out

of her imaginative youth, and still kept itself a life amidst a dusty reality of matrimony

and motherhood.

So while that and peony as I began with saying be sought their mother to let them

run out and plane new snow for though it had looked so dreary and dismal drifting

downward, out of the gray sky, it had a very cheerful aspect now that the Sun

was shining on it, the children dwelt in the city and had no wider play-place than a little

garden before the house, divided by a white fence from the street and with a pear tree

and two or three plum trees overshadowing it and some rose bushes Trust in front

of the parlor windows.

The trees and shrubs, however, when our leafless twigs were enveloped in the light

snow which das made a kind of wintry foliage with his and Dara’s pendant icicle

for the fruit,

“yes, violet, yes, my little peony,” said the kind mother. “You may go out and play in

the new snow” Accordingly, the good lady bundled up her darlings in woolen jackets

and wallets and put comforters around her neck and a pair of striped Gators

on each little pair of legs and worsted mittens on her hands and gave them a kiss

apiece by way of a spell to keep away check frost forth Sally to the two children

with a hop, skip, and chump that carried them at once into the very heart of a huge

snowdrift whence while that emerged like a snow bunting while little peony floundered

out of his round face in full bloom, then what a merry time that day to look at them

frolicking in the wintery garden, you would have thoughts that a dark and pitiless

storm had been sent for no other purpose but to provide a new plaything for violet

and peony and that day themselves had been created as the snowbirds were to take

delight only in the tempest and in the white mantle, which is spread over the earth

at last, when they had frosted one another all over with handfuls of snow violet

after laughing heartily at little Peonies figure was struck with a new idea

“You look exactly like a snow image, Peony,” said she. “If your cheeks were not so red,

and that puts me in mind; let us make an image out of snow, an image of a little girl,

and it shall be our sister and shall run about and play with us all winter long,

won’t it be nice?”,

“oh, yes,” cried Peony as plainly as he could speak, for he was but a little boy

“that will be nice, and now I shall see it, yes?” answered Violet. “Mama shall seed

a new little girl, but she must not make her come into the warm parlor for you know

our little snow sister will not laugh warmth and forth”,

with the children began this great business of making us no image that should run

about while their mother, who was sitting at the window and overheard some

of their talk could not help smiling at the gravity with which they set about it;

they really seemed to imagine that there would be no difficulty whatever in creating

a life little girl out of the snow and to say the truth, if miracles are ever to be wrought,

it will be by putting our hands to the work and precisely such a simple and undoubting

frame of mind, as that in which violet and peony now undertook to perform one,

we thought so much as knowing that it was a miracle, so thought the matter

and thought likewise that the new snow just fallen from heaven would be excellent

material to make new beings off,

“If it were not so very cold” She gazed at the children a moment longer

delighting to watch the little figures the girl Topher aged graceful and address

and so delicately colored that she looked like a cheerful thought more than

a physical  reality, while Peony expanded in breadth rather than hate and rolled along

on short and sturdy legs as substantial as an elephant, though not quite so big,

then, the matter resumed her work; what it was, I forgot, but she was either trimming

a second bonnet for violet or darning a pair of stockings for little peony short legs

again however and again and yet utter against she could not help turning her head

to the window to see how the children got on with this; no image indeed; it was an

exceedingly pleasant sight, those bright little Souls at that task moreover, it was really

wonderful to observe how knowingly and skilfully they managed to matter violet

assumes the chief direction and told Peony what to do while with her own delicate

fingers, she shaped out all the nicer parts of the snow figure; it seemed, in fact

not so much to be made by the children as to grow up under their hands while

they were playing and prattling about it; their mother was quite surprised at this

and so long as she looked more and more surprised, she grew; what remarkable

children, mine are thought she smiling with a mother’s pride and smiling at herself

too for being so proud of them. “What other children could have made anything

so like, a little girls figure out of snow at the first trial, well, but now I must finish

peonies new frock for his grandfather’s coming tomorrow, and I wanted a little fellow

to look handsome”,

So she took up the frock and was soon as busily at work again with her needle

as the two children if there’s no image but still as the needle traveled hither

and thither through the seams of the dress, the matter made her toy light and happy

by listening to the airy Weiss’s of violet and puny, they kept talking to one another

all the time, their tongues being quite as active as their feet and hands except

at intervals, she could not distinctly hear what was said but had merely

a sweet impression that they were in the most loving mood and were enjoying

themselves highly, and that’s the business of making the snow image when

prosperously on now and then, however when Violet and Peony happened to raise

their voices, the words were as audible as if they had been spoken in the very parlor

where a mother said, oh, how delightfully those words echoed in her heart even

though they meant nothing so very wise a wonderful after all, you must know

a mother listens with her heart much more than with her yes, and that she’s often

delighted with the frills of celestial music when other people can hear nothing

of the kind, “peony, peony,” cried Violet to her brother, who had gone to another part

of the garden. “Bring me some of that fresh snow peony from the very forest corner

where we have not been trampling, I wanted to shave our little snow sister’s bosom

with you know that part must be quite pure just as it came out of the sky”,

“Here it is, Violet,” answered Peony in his Bluff tone but a very sweet tone too

as he came floundering for a half-trodden rift, here is the snow for a little bosom

“Oh, Wyatt, how beautiful she begins to look,”

“yes,” said Wyatt thoughtfully and quietly, “our snow sister does look very lovely,

I did not quite know peony that we could make such a sweet little girl as this”,

the mother, as she listened, thought how fit and delightful an incident it would be

if fairies or, still better, if angel children were to come from paradise and play invisibly

with her own darlings and help them to make the snow image giving it the features

of celestial babyhood while that in peony would not be aware of their mortal

playmates, only they would see that the image grew very beautiful while they worked

at it and would think that they themselves had done it all, my little girl and boy

he served such playmates if mortal children ever did set the mother to herself

and then she smiled again at her own motherly pride; nevertheless, the idea ceased

upon her imagination and ever and anon, she took a glimpse out of the window half

dreaming that you might see the golden hair children of paradise sporting with her

own golden head violet and pride cheek peony now for a few moments, there was

a busy and earnest but indistinct hum of the two children’s voices as violet

and peony wrought together with one happy consent while that still seems to be

the guiding spirit, while Peony acted rather as a laborer and brought her the snow

from far near, and yet the little urchin evidently had a proper understanding

of the meta to peony, “peony,” cried Violet, for her brother was again at the other side

of the garden “bring me those light wreaths of snow that have rested on the lower

branches of the pear tree, you can clamber on a snowdrift peony and reach

them easily, I must have them to make some ringlets for all Snow sister’s head

hearing how vile it”, and such the little boy take care “you do not break them,

well done, well done, how pretty – Inna look!” sweetly said Violet with a very satisfied

tone, and now we must have some little shining bits of ice to make the brightness

of her eyes, she’s not finished yet. Mama will see how very beautiful she is, but Papa

will say – nonsense coming out of the coat; let us call Manitou “lookout,” said Peony

and then he shouted lustily, “Mana, mana, mana, look out and see what a nice

little girl, we are making”,

the mother put down her work for an instant and looked out of the window

but it so happens that the Sun for this was one of the shortest days of the whole year

had sunk and so nearly to the edge of the world that his setting shine came up neatly

into the lady’s eyes, so she was dazzled, you must understand and could not very

distinctly observe what was in a god still, however through all that bright

blinding dazzle of the Sun and the new snow, she beheld a small white figure

in the garden  that seemed to have a wonderful deal of human lightness about it

and she saw violet  and peony indeed she looked more attend the next she saw

the two children are still at work, peony brings fresh snow, and Violet applies it

to the figure as scientifically as a sculpture at the clay to his model indistinctly

as she discerned a snow child,

the mother thought to herself that never before was a snow figure so cunningly

made nor ever such a dear little girl and boy to make it; they do everything better than

other children said she very complacently no wonder they make better snow images

she sat down again to her work and made as much haste with it as possible because

Twilight would soon come, and peonies frock was not yet finished, and grandfather

was expected by the railroad pretty early in the morning faster and faster, therefore

went her flying fingers, the children likewise kept busily at work in the garden

and still, the mother listened whenever she could catch a word; she was amused

to observe how the little imaginations had got mixed up with what they were doing

and carried away by it “That’s impossible II to think that the snow child would run

about and play with them; what a nice playmate she will be for us all winter long,” said Wyatt. “I hope Papa will not be afraid of her giving us a cold shot,”

“you’ll love her dearly, peony,”

“oh, yes,” cried peony, “and I will hack her, and she shall sit down close by me and drink some of my warm milk,”

“oh, no, peony,” answered Violet with grave wisdom, “that will not do at home; warm milk will not be wholesome for little snow sister, little snow people like her eat nothing but icicles” No, no peony, we must not give her anything warm to drink,”

there was a minute or two of silence, for the peony, whose short legs were never weary, had gone on a pilgrimage again to the other side of the garden. All of a sudden, Violet cried out loudly and joyfully, “Look here, peony, come quickly”,

a light has been shining on her cheek out of that rose-colored cloud, and the color does not go away, “it’s not that beautiful,”

“yes, it is beauty,” answered Peony, pronouncing the free syllables with deliberate accuracy. “Oh while, it only looks at her hair; it is all like gold,”

“Oh, certainly,” said Why to alert with tranquility as if it were very much a matter,

“of course, that color you know comes from the golden clouds that we see up there in the sky, she’s almost finished now, but her lips must be made very red rather than her cheeks, perhaps peony; it will make them red if We both Kista,

accordingly, the mother had two smart little smacks as if both her children

were kissing the snow image on his frozen mouth, but as this did not seem to make

the lips quite red enough violet next proposed that the snow child should be invited

to kiss peonies scarlet cheek “Come, it’ll snow, sister, kiss me,” cried Peony,

“there she has kissed you,” added Violet, and now her lips are very red

and she blushed a little, too “Oh, what a cold kiss,” cried Peony, just then that came

a breeze of the pure west wind sweeping through her garden and rattling the Palo

windows, it sounded so wintry cold that the mother was about to tap

on the windowpane with a thin-walled finger to summon the two children in when

they both cried out to her with one voice; the tone was not a tone of surprise

although they were evidently a good deal excited, it appeared rather as if they were

very much rejoiced at some event that had now happened but which they had been

looking for and had reckoned upon all along,

“Mama, mama, we have finished our little snow sister and she’s running about a garden with us”,

what imaginative little beings my children our thoughts the mother putting

the last few stitches into pian nice frock and it is strange too that they make me

almost as much a child as a stadium celsa I can hardly help believing now that

the snow image has really come to life,

“dear mama” cried violet “pray to look out and see what a sweet playmate we have”,

the model is the sand treated could no longer delay looking for from the window

the Sun was now gone out of the sky leaving however a rich inheritance

of his brightness among those purple and golden clouds which make the sunsets

of winter so magnificent but there was not the slightest gleam or dazzle EDA

on the window or on snow so that’s the good lady could look all over the garden

and see everything and everybody in it and what do you think she saw!? there Violet

and peony, of course, her own two darling children ah but who more what did she see

besides why if you will believe me there was a small figure of a girl dressed all in

white with Rose tinged cheeks and ringlets of golden you playing about the garden

with the two children a stranger though she was the child seems to be honest

familiar terms with violet and peony and stay with her as if all the free had been

playmates during the whole of their little lives the mother of thoughts to herself that

it must certainly be the daughter of one of the neighbors and that seeing

Violet and Peony in the garden the child had run across the street to play with them,

so this kind lady went to the door intending to invite the little runaway into a

comfortable parlor for now that the sunshine was withdrawn, the atmosphere

out of doors was already growing very cold but after opening the house door

she stood an instant on the threshold hesitating whether she ought to ask the child

to come in or whether she should even speak to her indeed, she almost doubted

whether it was a real child after all or only a light wreath of the new-fallen snow blown

hither and thither about the garden by the intensely cold west wind, there was

certainly something very singular in the aspect of the little stranger among all

the children of the neighborhood, the lady could remember no such face with its pure

white and delicate rose color and the golden ringlets tossing about the forehead

and cheeks and s for a dress which was entirely of white and fluttering in a breeze

it was such as no reasonable woman would put upon a little girl when sending her out

to play in the depth of winter it made this kind and careful mother shiver only to look

at those small feet with nothing in the world on them except a very thin pair of white

slippers nevertheless Aurelia she was clad the child seemed to feel not a slightest

inconvenience from the coat but danced so lightly over the snow that the tips of her

toes left hardly a print on its surface while a Ledge could but just keep pace with her

and Peony’s short legs compelled him to lag behind once in the course of their play

the strange child placed herself between Violet and Peony and, taking a hand

of each skipped merrily forward and stay along with her almost immediately, however,

Peony pulled away from his little fist and began to rub it as if the fingers were tingling

with cold well Violet also released herself though with less abruptness gravely

remarking that it was better not to take hold of hands the wide ropes

damsels had not a word but danced about just as merrily as before if while

it is peony did not choose to play with her, she could make just as good a play made

of the brisk and cold west wind, which kept blowing her all about a garden

and took such liberties with her that they seem to have been friends for a long time

all this while the matter stood on the threshold, wondering how a little girl could look

so much like a flying snow-drift or how a snowdrift could look so very like a little girl

she called Violet and whispered to her, “Violet, my darling, what is this child’s name?” asked she “Does she live near us?”

“Why dearest mama?” answered Violet laughing to think that her mother did not comprehend so very plain an affair, “this is our little snow sister whom we have just been making,”

“yes, dear mama” cried Peony running to his mother and looking up simply into her

face this is our snow image. Is it not a nice little child at this instant, a flock of snow

birds came fluttering through the air, very natural they awarded Violet and Peony

but and this looked strange, they flew at once to the white robe child fluttered

eagerly about her head alighted on her shoulders and seemed to claim her

as an old acquaintance, she, on her part, was evidently as Claire to see

these little birds’ old winters grandchildren as they were to see her and welcome

to them, they’re holding out both her hands here upon them each, and all tried

to alight on her two poems and ten small fingers and thumbs crowding one another

off with an immense flattering after tiny wings one dear little bird nestled tenderly

in her bosom, and nada put its bill to her lips; they were as joyous all the while

and seemed as much in the element as you may have seen them when sporting him

with  a snowstorm, Violet and peony stood laughing at this pretty sight, for they

in choice to marry time which the new playmate was having with these small winged

visitants  almost as much as if they themselves took part in it “Violet” said her mother

greatly perplexed, “tell me the truth without any jest; who is this little girl?”

“my darling mama,” answered while looking seriously into her mother’s face

and apparently surprised that she should need any further explanation

“I have told you truly who she is; it is our little snow image which Peony and I have

been making, Peony will tell you so as well as I”,

“yes, mama,” a separated Peony with much gravity in his crimson little fish; this is it, the snow child is not she a nice one!? but Mama her hand is oh so very cold”,

when mama still hesitated about what to think and what to do, the street gate was thrown

open, and the father of violet and peony appeared wrapped in a pilot cloth sack with

a fur cap was drawn down over his ears, and the thickest of gloves upon his hands

Mr. Lindsey was a middle-aged man with a very and yet a happy look on his wind

flashed and frost-pinched face as if he had been busy all the day long and was glad

to get back to his quiet home, his eyes brightened at the sight of his wife and children

although he could not help uh Turing a word or two of surprise at finding the whole

family in the open air on so bleak a day and after sunset, too he soon perceived a little

white stranger sporting to and fro in the garden like a dancing snow Reef

and two flocks of snowbirds fluttering about her head; pray what little girl made that

be in quiet this very sensible man; surely her mother must be crazy to let her go out

in such bitter weather as it has been today with only that flimsy white gown

and those thin slippers

“My dear husband,” said his wife, “I know no more about the little thing than you do,

some neighbor’s child as opposed to our wire let-in peony,” she added, laughing

at herself or repeating so absurd a story insist that she’s nothing but a snow image

which they have been busy about in a garden.

Almost all the afternoon as she said this, the mother glanced her eyes towards

the spot where the children’s no image had been made; what was her surprise

on perceiving that there was not the slightest trace of so much labor, no image at all

no piled-up heap of snow, nothing whatever saved the Prince of little footsteps

around awaken space “This is very strange!” said she

“What is strange to your mother?” asked Violet “dear father do not you see how it is? This is our snow image which Peony and I have made because we wanted another playmate, did not we, peony!?”

“yes Papa,” said crimson peony “This be our it’ll snow sister, is she not beautiful?! but she gave me such a cold kiss”,

“ha, nonsense children” Christ a good honest father who, as we have already

intimated had an exceedingly common sensible way of looking at matters

“do not tell me of making life figures out of snow, come, wife, this little stranger must not stay out in the Bleak air a moment longer; we will bring her into the parlor, and you shall give her a supper of warm bread and milk and make her as comfortable as you can; meanwhile I will inquire among the neighbors or if necessary since the city crier about the streets to give notice of a lost child” so saying this honest

and very kind-hearted man was going towards the little white damsel with the best

intentions in the world, but why a Latin peony each ceasing their father by the hand

earnestly be sought him not to make her come in dear “father,” cried Violet putting

herself before him. “It is true what I have been telling you; this is our little snow girl, and she cannot live any longer, then while she briefs the cold west wind, does not make her comment to the hot room.”

“yes, Father,” shouted Peony stamping his little foot so mightily was he in earnest “This be nothing, but our it’ll snow.”

“child,” she fell at laughter, “hot fire! nonsense children,

“Nonsense, nonsense Christ” the father hath waxed half laughing at what he

considered their foolish obstinacy. “Run into the house this moment; it is too late to play any longer, now, I must take care of this little girl immediately, or she will catch her death a cold.”

“Husband dear husband,” said his wife in a low voice, for she had been looking narrowly at the snow child and was more perplexed than ever “There is something very singular in all this you will think me foolish, but…but may not be that some invisible angel has been attracted by the simplicity and good faith with which our children set about the undertaking, may he not have spent an hour of his immortality in playing with those dear little swords and so the result is what we call a miracle.”

“no, no, do not laugh at me; I see what a foolish thought it is, who my dear wife?!!” replied the husband laughing heartily. “You are as much a child as Violet and Peony and in one sense.”

so she was for all through life, she had kept her heart full of childlike simplicity

and faith which was as pure and clear as crystal and looked at all matters through

this transparent medium, she sometimes saw truths so profound that other people

laughed at them as nonsense and absurdity, but now can’t Mr. Lindsey had entered

the garden breaking away from his two children, who still sent the shrill voices after

him beseeching him to leave us no child stay and enjoy herself in a cold west wind

as he approached, the snowbirds took to flight the little white damsel also fled back

Ward shook her head as if to say pray do not touch me, and roguishly, as it appeared

leading him through the deepest of the snow; once the good man stumbled

and floundered down upon his face so that gathering himself up again with the snow

sticking to his rough pilot cloth sack, he looked as white and wintry as a snow image

of the largest size some of the neighbors, meanwhile, seeing him from the windows

wondered what could possess poor Mr. Lindsey to be running about his garden

in pursuit of a snowdrift, the west wind was driving hither and thither at length

after a wasp deal of trouble, he chased a little stranger into a corner where she could

not possibly escape him, his wife had been looking on, and it’s being nearly twilight

was oneness struck to observe how to snow child gleamed and sparkled and how

she seemed to shed a glow all around about her, and when driven into the corner

she positively glistened like a star; it was a frosty kind of brightness to like that of an

icicle in the moonlight; the wife thought it was strange that could Mr. Lindsey should see

nothing remarkable in the snow child’s appearance

“come, you ought little thing,” crushed the honest man seizing her by the hand “I have caught you at last and will make you comfortable in spite of yourself, we will put a nice warm pair of worsted stockings on your frozen little feet and you shall have a good thick shawl to wrap yourself in your poor white nose I’m afraid is actually frostbitten but we will make it all right, come along in”

and so with the most benevolent smile on the sagacious visit op hurdle as it was

after cold, this very well-meaning gentleman took the snow child by the hand and led

her towards the house she followed him drooping Lea and reluctant for all the glow

and sparkle was gone out of her figure and whereas just before she had resembled

a bright frosty star gamed evening with a crimson gleam on the cold horizon

she now looked as talent languid as a thought as kind Mr. Lindsay let her up the steps

of the door, Violet and Peony looked into his face their eyes full of tears which froze

before they could run down the cheeks and again entreated him not to bring

the snow image into the house does not bring her in exclaimed the kind-hearted man

Hawaii “you are crazy my little violet, quite crazy my small peony, she’s so cold already that her hand has almost frozen mine in spite of my thick gloves”,

“would you have a freeze to death” his wife as he came up the steps had been taking

another long earnest almost all stricken gaze at the little white stranger she hardly

knew where it was a dream or not but she could not help fancying that she saw

the delicate print of violets fingers on the child’s neck, it looked just as if were a violet

was shaping out the image she had given it a gentle pat with her hand and had

neglected to smooth the impression quite away after all husband sets the mother

recurring to her idea that the angels would be as much delighted to play with Violet

and Peony as she herself was, after all, she does look strangely like a snow image

“I do believe she’s made of snow”, a puff of the west wind blew against the snow

child and again she sparkled like star snow repeated good.

Mr. Lindsay drawing the reluctant guests over his hospitable threshold no wonder

she looks like snow she’s half-frozen poor little thing but a good fire will put

everything to rights without further talk and always with the same best intentions

this highly benevolent and common sensible individual that’s the little white damsel

drooping drooping drooping more and more out of the frosty air and into his

comfortable parlor a Heidelberg stove filled to the brim with intensely burning

anthracite was sending a bright gleam for the eyes and less of its errand door and

causing the ways of water on its top to fume and bubble with excitement a warm

sultry smell was diffused throughout her room a thermometer and a wall farthest

from the stove stood at 80 degrees the parlor was hung with red curtains

and covered with a red carpet and looked just as warm as it felt the difference

betwixt the atmosphere here and the cold wintry Twilight out of doors was like

stepping at once from no semla to the hottest part of India or from the North Pole

into an oven oh this was a fine place for a little white stranger the common sensible

man placed a snow child on the half rack right in front of the hissing and fuming stove

“Now she will be comfortable” cried Mr. Lindsay rubbing his hands and looking about

him with the pleasantest smile you ever saw “make yourself at home my child” said

he, sad and drooping looked at the little white maiden as she stood on the half rack 

with the hot blast of the stove striking through her like a pestilence, once she threw

a glance wistfully towards the windows and caught a glimpse through its red curtains

of the snow-covered roofs, and two stars glimmering frostily, and all the delicious

intensity of the cold night, the Bleak wind rattled the window panes as if it were

summoning her to come forth, but there stood a snow child drooping before the hot

stove but the common sensible man saw nothing amiss “come wife” said he “let her have a pair of thick stockings and a woolen shawl or blankets directly and tell Dora to give her some warm supper as soon as the milk boils you violet and peony amuse your little friend she’s out of spirits, you see, at finding herself in a strange place, for my part, I will go around among the neighbors and find out where she belongs”,

the matter meanwhile had gone in search of the shawl and stockings for her own

view of the matter, however, subtle and delicate had given way as it always did

to disturb on the materialism of her husband without heeding the remonstrances 

of his two children who still kept murmuring that a little snow sister did not loft 

a warmth.

Could Mr. Lindsay took his departure shutting the parlor door carefully behind him

turning up the collar of his sack over his ears he emerged from the house and had

barely reached a street gate when he was recalled by the screams of Violet

and Peony and strapping of a thimble finger against a parlor window “husband,

husband” cried his wife showing her horror-stricken face food a window paints

“There is no need of going for the child’s parents, we told you so father” screamed

Violet and Peony as Yuri enters the parlor, “you would bring her in, and now our poor

dear beautiful little snow sister is thought and her own sweet little faces were already

dissolved in tears so that their father seeing what strange things occasionally happen

in this everyday world felt not a little anxious lest his children might be going

to thought – in the atmosphere play tea, he demanded an explanation of its wife

she could only reply that being summoned to the parlor by the cries of violet

and peony she found no trace of the little white maiden unless it were the remains

of a heap of snow which while she was gazing at it melted quite away upon

the half rock and there you see all that is left of it added she pointing to a pool

of water in front of the stove, “yes Father” said violet looking reproachfully at him through her tears “there is all that is left of our dear little snow sister”,

“naughty father” cried peony stamping his foot and I shudder to say shaking his little

fist at the common sensible man “we told you how it would be, what for did you bring her in and to Heidelberg stove through the isinglass of its door seems to glare at good”,

Mr. Lindsay like a red-eyed demon triumphing in the mischief which it had done

this you will observe was one of those rare cases which yet will occasionally happen

where common sense finds itself at the fort.

The remarkable story of the snow image though to death sagacious class of people

to whom good Mr. Lindsay belongs it may seem but a childish affair is nevertheless

capable of being moral in various methods greatly for edification one of its lessons

for instance, might be that it behooves men and especially men of benevolence

to consider well what they are about and before acting on their philanthropic

purposes to be quite sure that they comprehend the nature and all the relations

of the business in hand. what has been established as an element of goods to one

being may proof absolute mischief to another even as the warmth of the parlor was

proper enough for children of flesh and blood like violet and Peony though by no

means very wholesome even for them but involved nothing short of annihilation

to the unfortunates no image but after all, there is no teaching anything two wise men

of good Mr. Lindsey stamp, they know everything,

Oh to be sure everything that has been and everything that is and everything

that but any future possibility can be and should some phenomenon of nature

or Providence transcend a system they will not recognize it even if it comes to pass

under their very noses.

“wife!” said Mr. Lindsey after a fit of silence “see what a quantity of snow the children have brought in on their feet it has made quite a puddle here before the stove pray tell Dora to bring some towels and mop it up”

The End