At one o'clock in the evening the little fire had burned out. Rose was still engaged with the baby, and Roxie passed the time between childish conversations with Rose about the deep snow, and their absent father, who she said would get the snow out of his way and come, home after a while, then peeping out the crack of the door to watch for some one passing. Old Father Tearful had passed the cabin, his face and head wrapped up with a strap of sheepskin to ward-off the cold, and he did not hear the cries of Roxie Fairfield. One hour later Suza was crying piteously and shivering with the cold. Roxie said firmly to Rose, you pet and coax the poor; thing and I will go to Aunt-Katy's and get some one to come and, and get us some wood, making a great effort to conceal a half suppressed sob; and a starting tear. Then patting' Rose on the head with her little hand said coaxingly, “Be good to-to-the baby, and I'll soon be back.” Leaving both little sisters in tears, and pulling her little bonnet close 'round her ears, she left the cabin, and struggled bravely through the deep snow; fortunately when she gained the track of Father Tearful's horse she had less difficulty. The old man was riding a Conestoga horse whose feet and legs, from their large size, made quite an opening in the snow. The Angel eye of observation peering into the east room of Brother Demitt's house, (he lived in a double cabin of hewn logs,) saw Aunt Katy sitting on one corner of the hearth-stone, busily plying her fingers upon a half finished stocking; upon the other corner lay a large dog; stretched at full length; half way between the two sat the old house-cat, eying the mastiff and the mistress, and ready to retreat from the first invader. The hickory logs in the fire-place were wrapping each other with the red flames of heat, and the cold wind rushing 'round the corner of the-house was the only sound that disturbed the stillness of the hour.