"By some especial care Her temper had been framed, as if to make Wordsworth. N the interior of Maine two girls grew to womanhood in houses so near that they could nod and smile to each other while they were making the beds in the morning, and chat through the open fence that separated their gardens when they went to pick currants for the tea-table. Both were daughters of farmers; but Harriet Brown's father had 1 money in the bank, while Jane White's father was struggling hard to pay off a mortgage. Jane was not a beauty, but her fresh, healthy countenance was pleasant to look upon. Her large blue eyes had a very innocent expression, and there was always in them the suggestion of a smile, as if they sung the first note of a merry song for the lips to follow. Harriet was the belle of the county; with rosy cheeks, a well-shaped mouth, and black eyes, that were very bright, without being luminous from within. A close observer of physiognomy could easily determine which of the girls had most of heart and soul. But they were both favorites in the village, and the young men thought it was a pretty sight to see them together. In fact, they were rarely seen apart. Their leisure moments, on bright winter days, were spent in snow-balling each other across the garden-fence; and they kept up the sport hilariously long after their hands were numb and red with cold. In the long evenings, they made wagers which would soonest finish a pair of socks; and merry were the little crowings over the vanquished party. In spring, they hunted anemones and violets together. In autumn, they filled their aprons with brilliant-colored leaves to decorate the mantel-piece; stopping ever and anon to twine the prettiest specimens in each other's hair. They both sat in the singing-seats at meeting. Harriet's shrill voice was always heard above Jane's, but it was defective in mod ulation, while music flowed through the warbling voice of her companion. They often bought dresses alike, with the agreement that, when the sleeves were worn, the two skirts should be used to make a new dress for the one who first needed it; and shrewd observers remarked that Harriet usually had the benefit of such bargains. Jane waited assiduously upon her mother, while Harriet's mother waited upon her. One seemed to have come into the world to be ministered unto, and the other to minister. Harriet was prim in company, and some called her rather proud; but Jane was deemed imprudent, because whatever she said or did bubbled out of her heart. Their friendship was not founded on any harmonious accord of character; few friendships are. They were born next door to each other, and no other girls of their own age happened to be near neighbors. The youthful heart runs over so perpetually, that it needs another into which to pour its ever-flowing stream. Impelled by this necessity, they often shared each other's sleeping apartments, and talked late into the night. They could not have told, the next day, what they had talked about. Their conversation was a continuous movement of hilarious nothings, with a running accompaniment of laughter. It was like the froth of whipsyllabub, of which the rustic took a spoonful into his mouth, and finding it gone without leaving a taste behind, he searched the carpet for it. The girls, however, never looked after the silly bubbles of their bubbling syllables. Harriet thought Jane excessively funny, and such an appreciative audience was stimulus sufficient to keep her friend's tongue in motion. 66 "O Hatty, the moon 's up, and it's as light as a cork!" exclaimed Jane, springing out of bed in the summer's night, and looking out of the window. "What a droll creature you are!" replied Hatty; and they laughed more heartily than they Iwould have done over one of Dr. Holmes's wittiest sayings. When merriment subsided into a more serious mood, each gave her opinion whether Harry Blake, the young lawyer, or Frank May, the young storekeeper, had the handsomest eyes. Jane said, there was a report that the young lawyer was engaged to somebody before he came to their vil lage; but Harriet said she did n't believe it, because he pressed her hand when they came home from the County Ball, and he whispered something, too; but she did n't know whether it would be fair to tell of it. Then came the entreaty, "Do tell"; and she told. And with various similar confidings, they at last fell asleep. Thus life flowed on, like a sunny, babbling brook, with these girls of sixteen summers. Fond as they were of recreation, they were capable, in the New England sense of the term, and accomplished a |