of 



She, harvest done, to char work did aspire, 

 Meat, drink, and twopence were her daily hire. 



And who has not known the same aspiration ? has 

 not had a longing for mere chores, and their ample 

 compensation ? It is such a reasonable, restful, satis- 

 fying aspiration! Harvest done! Done the work and 

 worry of the day ! Then the twilight, and the even- 

 ing chores, and the soft closing of the door ! At 

 dawn we shall go forth again until the evening ; 

 but with a better spirit for our labor after the fine 

 discipline of the morning chores. The day should 

 start and stop in our own selves ; labor should begin 

 and come to an end in the responsibility of the whole- 

 some, homely round of our own chores. 



Summer is gone, the harvest is done, and winter 

 is passing on its swiftest days. So swift, indeed, are 

 the days that morning and evening meet, bound up 

 like a sheaf by the circle of the chores. For there is 

 never an end to the chores ; never a time when they 

 are all done ; never a day when the round of them 

 is not to be done again. And herein lies more of 

 their virtue as a winter cure. 



Life is not busier here than elsewhere ; time is not 

 swifter, but more enjoyable, because so much of life 



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