"You find yourself thrown on barren ground, Miss Norwood," said Mary, as she saw Miss Norwood looking around the room; "neither papers, books, plants, plates, nor minerals." "Where are those rocks you brought in, Molly!" said Deborah, with a loud, grating laugh. Mary attempted to smile, but her eyes were full of tears. "What rocks, Deborah!" asked Clarina Norwood. "Them you see stuffed into the garden wall, there.--Mary fixed them all in a row on the table. I think as father does, that nothing is worth saving that can't be used; so I put them in the wall to keep the hens out of the garden. The silly girl cried when she see them; should you have thought it?" "What were they, Mary?" asked Clarina. "Very pretty specimens of white, rose, and smoky quartz, black and white mica, gneiss, hornblende, and a few others, that I collected on that very high hill, west of here." "How unfortunate to lose them!" said Miss Norwood, in a soothing tone. "Could not we recover them, dear Mary?" "There is no room for them," said Deborah. "We want to spread currants and blueberries on the tables to be dried. Besides, I think as father does, that there is enough to do, without spending the time in such flummery. As father says, 'time is our estate,' and I think we ought to improve every moment of it, except Sundays, in work." "I must differ from you, Miss Eastman," said Miss Norwood. "I cannot think it the duty of any one to labor entirely for the 'meat that perisheth.' Too much, vastly too much time is spent thus by almost all." "The mercy! you would have folks prepare for a wet day, wouldn't you?" "I would have every one make provision for a comfortable subsistence; and this is enough. The mind should be cared for, Deborah. It should not be left to starve, or feed on husks." "I don't know about this mind, of which you and our Mary make such a fuss. My concern is for my body. Of this I know enough." "Yes; you know that it is dust, and that to dust it must return in a little time, while the mind is to live on for ever, with God and His holy angels. Think of this a moment, Deborah; and say, should not the mind be fed and clothed upon, when its destiny is so glorious? Or should we spend our whole lives in adding another acre to our farms, another dress to our wardrobe, and another dollar to our glittering heap?" "Oh, la! all this sounds nicely; but I _do_ think that every man who has children should provide for them." "Certainly--intellectual food and clothing. It is for this I am contending. He should provide a comfortable bodily subsistence, and educate them as far as he is able and their destinies require." "And he should leave them a few hundreds, or thousands, to give them a kind of a start in the world."