the bottles of cider arranged on the dresser; and I draw forth from the
basket that I have hidden a cold tongue, a pot of butter, and some fresh
rolls.

Now their wonder turns into admiration; the little family have never seen
such a feast! They lay the cloth, they sit down, they eat; it is a
complete banquet for all, and each contributes his share to it. I had
brought only the supper: and the bandbox-maker and her children supplied
the enjoyment.

What bursts of laughter at nothing! What a hubbub of questions which
waited for no reply, of replies which answered no question! The old
woman herself shared in the wild merriment of the little ones! I have
always been struck at the ease with which the poor forget their
wretchedness. Being used to live only for the present, they make a gain
of every pleasure as soon as it offers itself. But the surfeited rich
are more difficult to satisfy: they require time and everything to suit
before they will consent to be happy.

The evening has passed like a moment. The old woman told me the history
of her life, sometimes smiling, sometimes drying her eyes. Perrine sang
an old ballad with her fresh young voice. Henry told us what he knows of
the great writers of the day, to whom he has to carry their proofs. At
last we were obliged to separate, not without fresh thanks on the part of
the happy family.

I have come home slowly, ruminating with a full heart, and pure
enjoyment, on the simple events of my evening. It has given me much
comfort and much instruction. Now, no New-Year's Day will come amiss to
me; I know that no one is so unhappy as to have nothing to give and