up together the same in beauty and health. One day an accident befell
Herbert, and the dear child rose from his bed of sickness a pale and
crippled boy. His twin sister grew up tall and blooming. The twins loved
each other very much, and it was a pleasant sight to see how the
deformed boy was cherished and protected by his sister Margaret. She
would often leave us in the midst of our plays to go and sit by
Herbert, who could not share with us in them.

We had our yearly festivals, our cowslip gatherings, our blackberry
huntings, our hay makings, and all the delights so pleasant to country
children. Our five birthdays were each signalized by simple presents and
evening parties, in the garden or the house, as the season permitted.
Herbert and Margaret's birthdays came in the sunny time of May, when
there were double rejoicings to be made. They were always set up in
their chairs in the bower, decorated with flowers and crowned with
wreaths. I now think of Margaret smiling under her brilliant garland,
while poor Herbert looked up to her with his pale sweet face. I heard
him once say to her when we had all gone away to pluck flowers:

"How beautiful you are to-day, Margaret, with your rosy cheeks and
brown hair."

"But that does not make me any better or prettier than you, because I am
strong and you are not, or that my cheeks are red and yours are pale."

Miles was just carrying little Dora over the steeping stones at the
brook, when Herbert cried:

"O, if I could only run and leap like Miles; but I am very helpless."