"Yes, I know," said Owen, eagerly; "father was reading to me yesterday how that every snow-flake is a crystal."
"Ah, I expect the more you search into God's works, the more beauty you will find, Owen." The good woman went on busily with her work as she spoke, presently adding, "I think, too, that God's children should always try to have things nice and pleasant about them, at least, as far as may be. I know that a struggling woman, with a lot of little children, can't have things as nice as she would. But every one may be clean, and if all did their best, the world would look different to what it does now."
"Mrs. Mitchell, I am going to do my best, and make my fortune one day."
"I am very glad, Owen; I hope you will."
"Do you? That is kind of you. Sam Netherclift laughs, and thinks I shall never do it."
"You may do it, if you seek it in the right way. There are two sorts of fortune, Owen. I hope you'll get the better."
"Two sorts! What are they?"
"One is a fortune of riches that take to themselves wings, and soon fly away; and the other sort is 'durable riches.'"
"Oh, I should make a fortune that would last, of course. Riches that fly away are not of much use. I should seek the best fortune, Mrs. Mitchell."
"I hope so, I hope so, indeed," said the woman, as she set down her cool iron, and took a fresh one from the fire.