The daughter was all that her mother could ask; she had no desire to depart from the beautiful precepts of the Bible--because she loved them. Her mind was active, thoughtful, and discerning beyond her years; of kind and generous disposition, ever ready for any work of love, and cheerful and happy in the consciousness of good-will to all. Her moral character was well matched with a beauty of person rarely found, even under every advantage. Hettie had no ornaments to set off her beauty, and no graces imparted by culture to heighten the natural ease of her movements; her complexion, though dark, was brightened by the rich color which adorned her cheeks, and her jet-black eyes were softened by the long dark lashes that gave to their expression almost the languor of a southern clime, while her dark hair dangled in luxuriant curls, very much to her annoyance, for she often said:-- 'She did wish her hair was straight like other girls; it was always getting into such a tangle.' As Mrs. Brown--or the Widow Brown, as she was universally called--lived nearer to the open and more cultivated settlement than any of the other inhabitants of the barrens, she was well known among the farmers' families, although intimate with very few. Hettie had some associates there, which her mother preferred for her to those in her own immediate vicinity. Of these, the family of the Widow Andrews was one to which they were peculiarly attached. They could sympathize with each other; the mothers were both widows, and each had two children of about the same age. They both loved good things; they could converse bout their past trials, and present hopes and fears. But while many things in their circumstances were similar, there were others in which they were very unlike to each other; for the Widow Andrews was much under the power of strong natural feelings, easily excited by joy or grief, and her passions when aroused seemed at times to know no bounds: no sooner was a chord struck that touched a tender point in her heart, than she would begin to talk very rapidly and to weep freely; her words flowing faster and faster, and louder and louder, until, between weeping and talking, she would finally break into a flood of tears, and all was over. The Widow Brown was aware of this weakness in her neighbor, and lamented it, for she knew that at times it did real evil; but there were so many things that she loved her for, this she considered as a mere weakness, for which she should be pitied. In reference to worldly goods, too, there was a dissimilarity. The Widow Andrews had a much better house, although a very plain one; still it was called a house, and not a log hut; and she had a few acres of land attached to it, and a small barn, old and shackling to be sure, and a few head of cattle, and had been enabled, hitherto, to make out to live in a very frugal way from her own resources.