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into mischief. Generally speaking, however, I had the courage to contradict him when he proposed any game that was not of a legitimate nature, and on these occasions he had the good sense not to be offended. But on one occasion Cousin John succeeded in drawing me into “ a scrape, as boys phrase an error. He was visiting at my parents' in the depth of the winter when the snow lay knee-deep on the ground, and in the course of the evening, it being moonlight, we strayed from the snug fireside to have a ramble in the open air. Near my parents' house lived an old lady, not well beloved by her neighbours for her mischief-making, and of whose character Cousin John was aware. "Old Mother Marpet is not at home, I think," he observed, as he came near to her door. "I can see no light either up stairs or down. What a good piece of fun it would be to cover her door over with snow!"

Cousin John had no sooner conceived the idea than he brought forth mischief. Pat, pat, pat, went the snow-balls against the panels of her door in quick succession, and still as he threw them he gave me an invitation to join him in his work. The scene was so exciting, that without giving myself a moment's reflection, I commenced making up the balls, and in a little time I was as active at the work as Cousin John himself. "That's right, Ned," he observed, as he saw me fairly at work; "the old woman won't know her own door when she returns home. Is it not glorious sport? And how it makes the hands glow! Mine feel as though they were in the fire rather than in snow."

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It was not long before Mother Marpet's door was covered from top to bottom with snow, while the key-hole was completely stopped up. Unfortunately for us, however, the old dame was not out as Cousin John had supposed. All the while we were at work she had been watching us from an up-stairs window, whither it afterwards appeared it was her wont to stand summer and winter an hour or two in the evening to see what was going forward in the village. Tired with our voluntary labour, Cousin John and I paused to rest, and Mother Marpet, imagining we had done all the mischief we could, suddenly threw open the window, and exclaimed, "I have been watching you, young gentlemen; I know you; you shall hear of this again."

We could hear no more of the dame's harangue from the window, for on hearing it thrown open we both started off at the top of our speed. But it was not long before we were compelled to stand before her tribunal. We had re-entered my parents' parlour, and were looking over the plates of an illustrated edition of the Pilgrim's Progress, a favourite companion of my early years, when all of a sudden a loud knocking was heard at the door. My heart misgave me on hearing it, for I fully anticipated that it was Mother Marpet, and no sooner was the door open, than my worst fears were realized. She raised such a storm in the passage as I had never heard before, and, without waiting to be announced, she threw open the door of the parlour, and holding up her right hand in a threatening attitude, vowed vengeance on us for our mischievous trick. It was some

time before my parents could understand what we had been doing, and when at length her passion allowed her to explain, they questioned her veracity: we had not been from the fireside many minutes, and they thought we could not have acted so wantonly.

Mother Marpet, however, was only the more enraged at this: "it was those young rogues and no one else."

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"Well, my boy," interrogated my father, was it you or not? I charge you to tell me the

truth."

I confessed that we had committed the act; and, for myself, expressed sorrow for the deed: I would never do it again. My parents also gave both Cousin John and myself a lecture on the crime, and I was forthwith to be sent to bed. They expressed themselves, moreover, very sorry that a son of theirs should annoy a neighbour in any way, and thanked Mother Marpet for taking the trouble of coming out in the snow to tell them. But though "a soft answer" usually "turns away wrath," nothing which they could say could appease the old dame. She knew that I was held in high repute among my neighbours, and was much noticed by them, and therefore she would have her revenge on me she would show them all that I could do in the way of mischief. It was not Cousin John who appeared to have been in fault; the whole blame was to fall upon myself, although he was certainly the greater culprit of the two.

I confess I felt lowered in my own estimation hewn I found that the snow-balled door was to

become an exhibition to my neighbours. I could scarcely sleep all the night, and as for the morning, I dreaded its appearance. Morning, however, came, and no sooner had sufficient light dawned from the skies, than I crept out of bed to see what mischief we had committed. Mother Marpet was, notwithstanding, up before me. Her house was in such a position that I could see it from the bed-room window, and I had no sooner glanced my eyes toward it than I descried her standing at the window, muffled up in an old red cloak, and watching for neighbours to whom she might relate the adventure. I could not

help shedding a tear at the thought of being thus disgraced, and bitterly reproached myself for having yielded to Cousin John's solicitation. I was wiping my tears away when Cousin John awoke, and seeing me thus in trouble asked what it was about?

"Have you forgotten last night?" I inquired. "No that I have not," he rejoined, "and I don't think I shall forget it for many a long year. It was such a glorious bit of fun. You are never shedding a tear for that, sure?"

"Think of the disgrace it will bring upon me," I replied; "just step out of bed, and you will see Mother Marpet watching for neighbours to whom she may relate our mischievous deed."

"Is she though?" asked Cousin John, as he hastily joined me. "Let us watch her a little while, and see who she meets with. It will be almost as good a piece of fun as snow-balling her door."

It was not long before some of our villagers

passed Mother Marpet's house, and it was certainly amusing to see with what earnestness she related her tale; and I was convinced that I was the burden of it, as she every now and then pointed towards my parents' house. As this was early in the morning, I congratulated myself that it was only peasantry whom she met with, and as I watched them it appeared evident that they were pleased with the circumstance. With that class, indeed, Mother Marpet was no friend, and had her door been battered down with snowballs, it would have given many of them pleasure. I was aware, indeed, that the old dame would not find much sympathy with any of her neighbours, whether rich or poor; but, at the same time, I was quite convinced that the deed would not raise me in the estimation of the educated and right-thinking. Fortunately, however, I had not much cause for fear. It was a beautiful clear morning, and as I watched Mother Marpet's house, I perceived that its rays, which fell directly upon her door, were fast melting away the proofs of my guilt. "She won't meet with many neighbours now to relate her tale to," I observed to Cousin John; "don't you see how fast the sun is melting the snow on her door? I wish it would shine as warm as on a summer's day, and then she would have to tell her tale without proof."

"Melting, or not melting," Cousin John replied, "I can only say that I should like to snow-ball it again. And to tell you the truth, cousin, it would give me great pleasure to have a shy at

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