one room deep, and lying as it did about north and south, the rooms
were open to both the morning and the afternoon sunshine. They opened
one into the other in a series; and when my father was safe up-stairs
in his study, my mother would open all the doors of the suite on the
lower floor, and allow the children to career triumphantly to and fro.
No noise that we could make ever troubled her nerves, unless it was
the noise of conflict; the shriek of joy, however shrill, passed by
her harmless; but the lowest mutter of wrath or discontent distressed
her; for of such are the mothers of the kingdom of heaven! And so
zealous was our regard for her just and gentle law that I really think
we gave way as little as most children to the latter.

Of course, whenever the weather permitted, we were out in the yard, or
even promenaded for short distances up and down the street. And
once--"How are you?" inquired a friend of the family, as he drove by
in his wagon. "Oh, we've got the scarlet fever!" we proudly replied,
stepping out gallantly along the sidewalk. For we were treated by a
homoeopathic doctor of the old school, who was a high-dilutionist, and
mortal ills could never get a firm grip on us. In winter we rejoiced
in the snow; and my father's story of the Snow Image got most of its
local color from our gambols in this fascinating substance, which he
could observe from the window of his study.

The study was on the third floor of the house, secluded from the
turmoil of earth, so far as anything could be in a city street. No one
was supposed to intrude upon him there; but such suppositions are
ineffectual against children. From time to time the adamantine gates
fell ajar, and in we slipped. It seemed a heavenly place, tenanted by
a being possessed of every attribute that our imaginations could
ascribe to an angel. The room and its tenant glimmer before me as I