I live at the red farm-house over the hill , only I do n't know which road to take . ' ` I 'll show you . Come at once , for night is coming on , and the snow will soon be too deep for us , ' said Blot . So away they went , as fast as their small legs could carry them ; but it was a long way , and dusk came on before the red farm-house appeared . ` Now I 'm safe ; thank you very much . Wo n't you come in , and stay all night ? My mother will be glad to see you , ' said the kit rubbing her soft white face against Blot 's little black breast . ` It 's against the rule to stay out all night , and I promised to be in early ; so , good-by , dear . ' And off trotted Blot along the snowy road , hoping to get home before the hen-house door was shut . Faster and faster fell the snow darker and darker grew the night , and colder and colder became poor Blot 's little feet as she waded through the drifts . The firelight was shining out into the gloom , as the half-frozen chicken came into the yard , to find all doors shut , and no shelter left for her but the bough of a leafless tree . Too stiff and weak to fly up , she crept as close as possible to the bright glow which shone across the door-step , and with a shiver put her little head under her wing , trying to forget hunger , weariness , and the bitter cold , and wait patiently for morning . But when morning came , little Blot lay frozen stiff under a coverlet of snow : and the tender-hearted children sighed as they dug a grave for the last of the unfortunate family of the Clucks . A CURIOUS CALL . I have often wondered what the various statues standing about the city think of all day , and what criticisms they would make upon us and our doings , if they could speak . I frequently stop and stare at them , wondering if they do n't feel lonely ; if they would n't be glad of a nod as we go by ; and I always long to offer my umbrella to shield their uncovered heads on a rainy day , especially to good Ben Franklin , when the snow lies white on his benevolent forehead . I was always fond of this old gentleman ; and one of my favourite stories when a little girl , was that of his early life , and the time when he was so poor he walked about Philadelphia with a roll of bread under each arm , eating a third as he went . I never pass without giving him a respectful look , and wishing he could know how grateful I am for all he had done in the printing line ; for , without types and presses , where would the books be ? Well , I never imagined that he understood why the tall woman in the big bonnet stared at him ; but he did , and he liked it , and managed to let me know it in a very curious manner , as you shall hear . As I look out , the first thing I see is the great gilt eagle on the City-Hall dome .
There he sits , with open wings , all XXXXX long , looking down on the people , who must appear like ants scampering busily to and fro about an ant-hill .
Blot City-Hall Franklin Philadelphia day door-step farm-house first hen-house night