Gulf and Glacier; or, The Percivals in Alaska

“Have you heard from Bess lately?” asks Uncle Will.

“Only last week,” replies Tom, throwing a handful of cones on the fire, and then trying to get the pitch off his white hands. “She and Ross were in Geneva, and having a glorious time.”

“I shall be glad when she is back in this country again,” remarks Aunt Puss, stroking Pet’s bright hair. “If all my girls should run away so far, as soon as they were married, I don’t know what I should do!”

Pet laughs and blushes a little, and assures her aunt that “there’s no danger!” For she and Randolph have talked it over, you see, and have resolved on another Alaskan trip, where they can renew their memories of that bright summer among the gulfs and glaciers of the far Northwest.

“Just for the sake of old times” Uncle Will tells a story, while the red blaze crackles around a plentiful supply of cones and curling sheets of “silver rags.” Without, the northern crosses all through the wood are white with snow, and the wind rises until in its continuous voice can be heard a roar as of the kelp-laden surges around the lonely reefs of Appledore.

There is silence in the little chamber as young folk and old gaze dreamily into the heart of the fire, their thoughts full of dear old days, yet looking forward, strong, trustful, hopeful, to the shelter that shall be for them in the heart of every storm that may assail them; to the work and the joy and the gladness of life that is set before them.