Bart is a good boy an' we made up our minds he'd enjoy it better now than he ever would ag'in." That Christmas brought me nothing better than those words, the memory of which is one of the tallest towers in that long avenue of my past down which I have been looking these many days.

About all you can do for a boy, worth while, is to give him something good to remember.
The day had turned dark.

The temperature had risen and the air was dank and chilly.

The men began to hitch up their horses.
"Kind o' thawin' a little," said Uncle Hiram as he got into his sleigh and drove up to the door.

"Come on, there.