in nothing alike; but then, as Aunt Chloë said, "Opposites are more
harmonious."

My sister Cynthia was going to be published soon, and all the rest were
helping her "make her fix." Coverlets were being got into the loom, and
the great wheel and little wheel going all day Jamie liked to help them
"quill." But the best of all, both for him and me, were the quiltings;
for these brought all the young folks together.

Our nearest neighbor was a large, stout-looking man, by the name of
Wilbur. He was called Mr. Nathaniel, to distinguish him from his
brother. His house was next ours, with a hill between. He was a good,
jolly soul, had no children of his own, and was always begging mother
for a few of her girls. Nothing suited him better than a good time. If
there was anything going on at our house, he was always on the spot.

One December evening, our kitchen was full of young people. The best
bed-quilt had been quilted, and Jamie and I had been helping "roll
over," all the afternoon. In the evening, as soon as the young men came,
we hung over the molasses, and set Mr. Nathaniel stirring it. We all sat
around, naming apples. All at once he called out, "Which of you chaps
has got pluck enough to ride over to Swampsey Village to-morrow, after a
young woman he never saw?"

They all looked up, especially the girls who had beaux present. Then
came questions,--"Who is she?" "Give her name"; "Good-looking?" and many
others.

"Be thinking it over awhile," said he, and kept on stirring. But when he
was pulling the candy, he explained, dropping a few words at every pull.