might have tucked poor ’Bel into the hollow of his arm, and fancied he was carrying a kitten. But not he. He folded his arms on his tough sinewy chest, and sauntered along, till ’Bel, worn out with toiling and tugging and battling with wind and storm, sunk down at last exhausted. “Lost footing, Miss? It isn’t much of a storm,” observed Sam, with the most good-natured, though contemptuous indifference; and on he passed, leaving the lady to _find footing_ as best she might. Poor ’Bel! She was (not poetically, but literally) in “snowy vestments, pure and white,” when, panting and struggling, she resumed her way; and, by that time, the tracks of big Sam, “far between” at best, were nearly filled with snow. “Bless me! ’Bel Forester! What _can_ have brought you out on such a day as this?” I exclaimed, drawing her through the half-opened door, and shivering as the cold air burst in at the gap, and whisked about my ears. “Anybody sick? Any—” “No-h! no! wait—till—uh!—till—I—get breath—uh!” Great alarm were we in, and there was rubbing of hands, and chafing of temples, and screaming among the children, and running for salts, till finally the steaming cup was brought from the kitchen, and poor ’Bel was scalded back to life. “What is it, ’Bella?” I again inquired, when a proper time had elapsed. “Do tell us what has happened!” “Nothing. I thought I would just step in and bring you a paper. The critics have taken you up.” “ME!” There _was_ something shocking in it, inconceivably shocking; and my heart cut an involuntary pigeon-wing, (it hasn’t learned the Polka,) while I mechanically stretched out my hand for the paper. But there was a look on the face of Cousin ’Bel, unlike the one she wore when she first encouraged my first timid sketch; and I felt that I should have but partial sympathy. (Thank Heaven, it was only a dream!) Under such circumstances, it was best not to appear too anxious. “Is the criticism so very important,” I inquired, turning my eyes with desperate resolution from the paper, which rustled in my shaking hand, “that you should come to bring it me on such a day as this?” “Pretty important, as things go now; and, of course, the storm would have no influence in keeping me in doors.” “_Of course!_” “Ay! you act as though you had not heard of the Great Reform.” How my curiosity was divided between the news and the criticism! “Alderbrook is an out-of-the-way place,” interposed my mother. “And so you really have not heard of the mighty revolution—the establishment of principles of equality—the practical adoption of that great first truth upon the face of our constitution, which is the corner-stone of our liberties, declaring that not merely all men, but all mankind are created free and equal.” How eloquent ’Bel had grown! what _could_ it mean! “In a word,” said my mother, rather entreatingly, “soberly and simply, ’Bella, we do not understand all this. What is the Great Reform?”