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 drawing his heart upward, while the pure, invigorating mountain airs were nourishing mind and body, and helping to build up that strong, magnificent physique which later rendered him capable of such incredible labors and hardships.

Margaret Bosco did not bring her sons up in softness or idleness. They rose with the sun in the summer, and long before dawn in the winter; dutiful children, they worked in the fields and helped in the house—prayer, work and play divided their day; their meals were frugal and they took their night's rest on the floor. John was inured early, you see, to penance; but under this regime he flourished, and was the delight of his mother's heart because of his tender piety, his purity of conscience, and his love tor the poor. Margaret, though her prospect of education had been blighted by the repressive measures of the time, had a beautiful mind, with rare force of character; she was somewhat of a poet, too, for from nature and from little daily happenings, she could draw analogies most sweetly spiritual, and these have often a lasting influence with children.

The neighbors, near and from a distance, used to meet in Margaret's barn of a winter evening, where she would relate Bible stories or traits from the lives of the saints. Little John was frequently called upon to report the Sunday sermon—for he had a prodigious memory—or read aloud, or perform some juggling tricks. But these diversions, which he had learned at a fair, were