her heart full of childlike simplicity and faith, which was as
pure and clear as crystal; and, looking at all matters through
this transparent medium, she sometimes saw truths so profound
that other people laughed at them as nonsense and absurdity.

But now kind Mr. Lindsey had entered the garden, breaking away
from his two children, who still sent their shrill voices after
him, beseeching him to let the snow-child stay and enjoy herself
in the cold west-wind. As he approached, the snow-birds took to
flight. The little white damsel, also, fled backward, shaking her
head, as if to say, "Pray, do not touch me!" and roguishly, as it
appeared, leading him through the deepest of the snow. Once, the
good man stumbled, and floundered down upon his face, so that,
gathering himself up again, with the snow sticking to his rough
pilot-cloth sack, he looked as white and wintry as a snow-image
of the largest size. Some of the neighbors, meanwhile, seeing him
from their windows, wondered what could possess poor Mr. Lindsey
to be running about his garden in pursuit of a snow-drift, which
the west-wind was driving hither and thither! At length, after a
vast deal of trouble, he chased the little stranger into a
corner, where she could not possibly escape him. His wife had
been looking on, and, it being nearly twilight, was wonder-struck
to observe how the snow-child gleamed and sparkled, and how she
seemed to shed a glow all round about her; and when driven into
the corner, she positively glistened like a star! It was a frosty
kind of brightness, too, like that of an icicle in the moonlight.
The wife thought it strange that good Mr. Lindsey should see
nothing remarkable in the snow-child's appearance.

"Come, you odd little thing!" cried the honest man, seizing her