The winter drew on--a season as different from the summer in those northern latitudes, as if it belonged to another solar system.

Cold and stormy, it is yet full of delight for all beings that can either romp, sleep, or think it through.

But alas for the old and sickly, in poor homes, with scanty food and firing! Little children suffer too, though the gift of forgetfulness does for them what the gift of faith does for their parents--helps them over many troubles, besides tingling fingers and stony feet.

There would be many tracks of those small feet in the morning snow, leading away across the fresh-fallen clouds from the house and cottage doors; for the barbarity of _morning-school_, that is, an hour and a half of dreary lessons before breakfast, was in full operation at Glamerton.
The winter came.

One morning, all the children awoke, and saw a white world around them.