“There was never the least danger--not the least danger!” said uncle. “They were much too cautious for this. It was laughable, seeing the jog-trot they kept. Monde, your aunt will make a coward of you, if she can. She, for her own part, gets ten thousand needless hurts as she goes along in dread of their coming upon herself, or some of the rest of us. Isn’t this true, Alice?” “I don’t know, I am sure. Perhaps I do,” replied aunt. “You certainly do. Say, Monde, will you ride?” with an impatient jerk of his fine shaggy head. “Yes, sir,” said I, springing promptly to my feet; for I felt, as I often do when he speaks to me, as if the current of his own electrical force ran through my brain and limbs--“over the hills, uncle mine, or anywhere!” “That’s sensible,” replied he, with a look of hearty approbation. “Put on your things--I will have Kate at the door in five minutes.” Heavens! how gorgeous is the winter landscape, when our sky is as blue as Italy’s, when the sun is on hills and mountains, and the blue shadows are in all the valleys and beside all the little knolls; when the dark firs, and pines, and hemlocks, and the black-hazel-blossoms are fringed and tufted with the new-fallen snow, and the crows and jays go screaming, and the blood in all one’s veins is astir with the new life that comes on every breath. “Father,” I said, lifting reverently upward the eyes that had been wandering over the beautified scene, “Father, accept Thou the love of Thy child. Help her to be always thankful to Thee.”