LOVE _versus_ LAW THE TEA ROSE TRIALS OF A HOUSEKEEPER LITTLE EDWARD AUNT MARY FRANKNESS THE SABBATH.--SKETCHES FROM A NOTE BOOK OF AN ELDERLY GENTLEMAN LET EVERY MAN MIND HIS OWN BUSINESS COUSIN WILLIAM THE MINISTRATION OF OUR DEPARTED FRIENDS.--A NEW YEAR'S REVERY MRS. A. AND MRS. B.; OR, WHAT SHE THINKS ABOUT IT CHRISTMAS; OR, THE GOOD FAIRY EARTHLY CARE A HEAVENLY DISCIPLINE CONVERSATION ON CONVERSATION HOW DO WE KNOW? WHICH IS THE LIBERAL MAN? THE ELDER'S FEAST.--A TRADITION OF LAODICEA LITTLE FRED, THE CANAL BOY THE CANAL BOAT FEELING THE SEAMSTRESS OLD FATHER MORRIS.--A SKETCH FROM NATURE THE TWO ALTARS, OR TWO PICTURES IN ONE A SCHOLAR'S ADVENTURES IN THE COUNTRY "WOMAN, BEHOLD THY SON!" THE CORAL RING ART AND NATURE CHILDREN HOW TO MAKE FRIENDS WITH MAMMON A SCENE IN JERUSALEM THE OLD MEETING HOUSE.--SKETCH FROM THE NOTE BOOK OF AN OLD GENTLEMAN THE NEW-YEAR'S GIFT THE OLD OAK OF ANDOVER.--A REVERY OUR WOOD LOT IN WINTER POEMS:-- THE CHARMER PILGRIM'S SONG IN THE DESERT MARY AT THE CROSS CHRISTIAN PEACE ABIDE IN ME AND I IN YOU.--THE SOUL'S ANSWER WHEN I AWAKE I AM STILL WITH THEE CHRIST'S VOICE IN THE SOUL THE MAY FLOWER. UNCLE LOT. And so I am to write a story--but of what, and where? Shall it be radiant with the sky of Italy? or eloquent with the beau ideal of Greece? Shall it breathe odor and languor from the orient, or chivalry from the occident? or gayety from France? or vigor from England? No, no; these are all too old--too romance-like--too obviously picturesque for me. No; let me turn to my own land--my own New England; the land of bright fires and strong hearts; the land of _deeds_, and not of words; the land of fruits, and not of flowers; the land often spoken against, yet always respected; "the latchet of whose shoes the nations of the earth are not worthy to unloose." Now, from this very heroic apostrophe, you may suppose that I have something very heroic to tell. By no means. It is merely a little introductory breeze of patriotism, such as occasionally brushes over every mind, bearing on its wings the remembrance of all we ever loved or cherished in the land of our early years; and if it should seem to be rodomontade to any people in other parts of the earth, let them only imagine it to be said about "Old Kentuck," old England, or any other corner of the world in which they happened to be born, and they will find it quite rational.