THE MILITIA MAN'S MITTENS. 41 'Only a bag is shut up at one end'. said Hulda doubtfully. 'A thing can't be finished till it's done,' said Martha sententiously. Hulda looked on for a while in silence. 'Is that little hole for the thumb to come out of ?' 'But who are they for?' said Hulda, 'that is too big for you.' La sakes, Hulda, you aint waked up, be you? I guess it 'll be some time afore I want mittens to sew in. These is for the militie.' 'The militia!' said Hulda. 'Why they don't want mittens.' 'Don't they though?-then you know more about it than Tom Skiddy, for he says his hands gets awful cold sometimes, mornings. And you see, Hulda, the paper says the ladies up to Newburgh and Hudson and all along shore there, has been knittin' their fingers off; and sent I do' know how many pairs of socks and mittens-six hundred I guess, more or less-up to the Governor for the militie; and there was printed thanks to 'em in the paper, so I don't see why folks here mustn't do nothing.' 'O yes, Rosalie told me about that,' said Hulda. 'But she said those were for the soldiers away off-somewhere where it's very cold.' ""Taint cold here, I s'pose,' said Martha,—we don't have to make fires in these parts.' 'But it isn't so cold as some other places.' 'La child, so long's fingers gets froze, it don't make much odds about the theometer. And fingers can get froze in this town o' York-Tom Skiddy says so.' 'You like Tom Skiddy very much, don't you?' said Hulda. 'He aint so bad he couldn't be worse,' replied Martha, when her head had taken two or three turns as if her mind were balancing as well. 'But isn't he very good to you?' pursued Hulda. 'Good to me!' said Martha with a gyration of more - Once in a dignity, he aint got quite so far as that yet. while I'm good to him, and he's pretty good to himself. That's about the state of the case. Only I may as well give the mittens to the first militie-man that comes handy; instead of sending 'em off to nobody knows who, nor whether they'd fit.' Hulda looked on again thoughtfully. "Thornton don't wear mittens,' she said. 'I can't see why poor folks should lose their fingers because the Capting buys yaller gloves,' said Martha. inspired by the freezing fingers hers flew the faster. 'How very quick you knit !' said Hulda. 'Don't I, though!' said Martha-'as quick as most folks. I always was spry. And you see, Hulda, I'll put blue and white fringe to the top; and the way they 'll keep Tom Skiddy's fingers warm, 'll be a caution.' SUNDAY AFTERNOON. 43 CHAPTER VII. The wind has swept from the wide atmosphere In duskier braids around the eyes of day: Creep hand in hand from yon obscurest glen.-SHELLEY. Ir was Sunday afternoon; and unlike most perfect things, the daylight lingered; and a fair specimen of winter drew slowly to its close. The last sunbeams played persuasively about the hard-featured city, as if to draw and lead its attention towards the great light of the world; even as had the light of truth that day touched some hearts that slowly moved off beyond its reach. Little Hulda sat in her sister's lap by the parlour fire; sometimes putting forth simple questions and remarks in a very unostentatious way, and sometimes silently following her sister's eyes, as they gazed upon the fire or looked out into the darkening light. At the window, half withdrawn within the curtains, sat Thornton. He had but just come in, and seemed not to have brought his mind in with him, for his attention was given undividedly to the street. At least it seemed to be; but from a certain moody aspect, from the gloomy air with which he now and then nodded to a passer-by, his sister judged that his thoughts were busy not only within doors but within himself. Neither pleasantly nor profitably she thought,-it was more like the clouds which cover up the day than the darkness which precedes it. Afraid that he should think she was watching him, her eye came back to the fire and then down to the little face on her breast. Hulda was observing her very anxiously, but the anxiety broke away and a smile came. 6 Are you tired, Alie?' said the child stroking her face. 'A little.' 'Were you out this afternoon?' said Thornton abruptly turning his head. 'No-I staid with Hulda.' 'You were not with Hulda when I came in ?' 'No.' 'Where then?' 'O with some scholars who are older and know less,' aid Rosalie. 'In other words, with your kitchen Bible-class,' said Thornton in a way which gave the adjective its full effect. She bowed her head slightly but without looking at him, and answered, 'Even so.' Her brother eyed her for a minute, and then said more softly, What do you do so for, Alie ?-it's too absurd, and wrong. Tiring yourself out as if you were not possessed of common sense.' 'Why you declared yourself 'tired out' yesterday,' said his sister smiling. 'But I had been amusing myself-taking my pleasure.' 'And I have been taking mine.' 'Nonsense! Do you expect me to believe that you like to hear bad English and worse Theology, if it is only kept in countenance by the kitchen dresser ?' 'Not Theology at all,' said his sister, 'only the Bible; and that is sweet English to my ear, always. And if it were not Thornton, you would have liked to bear a hand in the destruction of the Bastile?' "There you are suable tangent. -' said Thornton,-off on some unpurThe most impossible person to argue with I ever saw !' and his head turned to the window again. 'I haven't said any hymn to-night, Alie,' said little Hulda. 'Well dear, it is not too late.' 'Ono,' said Hulda, 'but I haven't learned any new one.' 'Then tell me one of the old.' Hulda considered a while, and began very slowly and distinctly. |