^ * 
 
 JESSIE GREY. 
 
 
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HOME. 
 
 " Standing upon the northern shore of the St Lawrence, whose rushing 
 
 waters make ceaseless music as they curve in'and out among the picturesque 
 
 ' Thousand Isles,' there are very few who would not be content to call 
 
 that white-walled farmhouse — Home." — Page 3. 
 
 Frotitisfiiece. 
 
^^m" 
 
 Jessie Grey 
 
 (9 7? T//E Discipline of Life 
 
 % ^auabimt ^ulc 
 
 O' 
 
 Bv L. a. 
 
 r^\.\- Q 
 
 
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 ' I 've almost grown a poriion of this place ; 
 I seem familiar with each mossy-stoiK- ; 
 Even the nimble chipnmnk passes on, 
 And looks, but never scolds me." 
 
 -Sangster 
 
 TORONTO 
 JAMES C,AMPBELL AND SON 
 
 1870 
 
Entered, accordhtg to Act of the Parliament of Canada, in the 
 year One Thousand Eight Hundred and Seventy, by Jamks 
 Camprell, in the Office of the Minister of Agriculture. 
 
OJtrrzn^y^ lAx^^ 
 
 i/ /y^ /f 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 .*v 
 
 EAR CANADIAN CHILDREN, 
 
 I bring my little book to you with 
 
 the earnest wish that God's blessin^^ 
 may attend it, and abide with you all your 
 lives long! 
 
 I love my native land, my Canada home, 
 
 very, very dearly ; and you, the children of 
 
 our Dominion, share in this love, and hold 
 
 strong possession of my heart. For, lookino- 
 
 forward a few years, I see in you, now so 
 
 small, and weak, and childish, the power that 
 
 \Nill move a mighty nation for good or evil. 
 
 vii 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 1 believe that it depends, in a very great degree, 
 upon the lessons learned and ideas implanted in 
 your childhood, to make you the strong, earnest 
 men and women our country will need. First of 
 all these lessons comes — trust in God. 
 
 A man who does not love God ma\i love his 
 country ; but the true patriot is always the true 
 Christian. 
 
 Make this your study, dear children, to know 
 and follow Him who " hath so loved the world." 
 Trusting and serving Him, we need not fear to 
 leave in your hands the care of our child-nation — 
 Canada. 
 
 He is faithful and true who hath promised to be 
 " strength in the time of trouble to all who put 
 their trust in Him." 
 
 Yqv you, more especially, little girls, I have 
 written the following pages ; and -f, through them, 
 I help you to realize how uncertain and unstable 
 the strongest earthly support is — if they help you 
 to find the only reliable stronghold, in giving your 
 hearts to the one sure Friend, my object shall have 
 been well accomplished. 
 
 An earnest, Christian woman, whether mother, 
 
 « • • 
 
 viii 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 sister, or daughter, cannot but have a strong in- 
 fluence in leading tlio home-hearts to things "honest, 
 pure, and of good report," and in this influence lies 
 her peculiar mission and j^ath of duty. By the use 
 of it alone, slie fulfils her duty to God and her 
 native land, and does her part in strengthening 
 and purifying the nation ; "If there be any virtue" 
 and if tiiere be any praise, iJ,ink on these thinc/s." ' 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 -o- 
 
 CHAP. 
 
 I. DAYS OP SUNSHINE, 
 
 ir. SUMMER CLOUDS, 
 
 III. A DAT AT SCHOOL, . 
 
 IV. THE " OLD DAT!?," . 
 V. AN angel's visit, . 
 
 VI. IN THE firelight, . 
 VII. THE HAPPY NEW-TEAR, 
 VIII. GOING AWAT, . 
 
 IX. LIFE IN THE NEW HOME, 
 X. A WORD IN SEASON, 
 
 XI. " AND THE TEARS GLIDE BT," 
 
 PAGE 
 1 
 
 10 
 
 20 
 
 27 
 36 
 44 
 53 
 65 
 78 
 91 
 102 
 
<> 
 
 CHAPTER I. ^ .. 
 
 gap jof ^ttitsljiiu. 
 
 " O little feet ! that such long years 
 Must wander on through hopes and fears, < 
 
 Must ache and bleed beneath your load ; 
 I, nearer to the wayside inn 
 Where toil shall cease and rest begin, 
 Am weary, thinking of your road 1 " 
 
 AMMA ! mamma ! where are you 1 " 
 sounds the merry voice of Willie Grey, 
 as he runs hastily from one room to 
 another, in his quiet farmhouse home. 
 
 " I think she must be down in the milk-cellar," 
 he concludes, after a fruitless search through the 
 house; and hurrying down the path, he finds 
 that he has guessed correctly. 
 
 Mrs Grey is in the milk-cellar, busily arranging 
 milk-pans, and working over a great bowl of 
 butter, fresh from the morning's churning. She 
 looks up to the bright eager face of her boy 
 
DAYS OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 as he stands before the door, with the smile that can 
 come only from a mother's pride and tenderness. 
 
 " mamma ! can we go fishing ? The boat is all 
 ready, and Jessie and Allie are waiting upon the bank. 
 Do let us, please ! We '11 bring such splendid fish for 
 supper; and you know school begins to-morrow, so 
 this is our last day." 
 
 " But will it not be very warm upon the water so 
 early in the afternoon, Willie ? and, you remember, 
 Allie was not very well this morning." 
 
 " But we have an umbrella, mamma, and will keep 
 in the shade of tlie islands as much as possible." 
 
 His eager, pleading face shows that his heart is quite 
 fixed on the pleasant sail ; and the mother's love cannot 
 resist it. 
 
 "Well, you may go, my son; but be very careful; 
 and do not get too far away," she answers, cheer- 
 fully. 
 
 With a joyful "Thank you, mamma!" and pro- 
 mising to remember her directions, Willie runs hastily 
 for his fishing-lines, bounds quickly through the shaded 
 paths of the garden, and in a very few moments has 
 pushed off the little canoe, in which his sisters are 
 already seated. ' 
 
 Leaving them to enjoy their sail, we will come back 
 and make a longer visit to the pleasant farmhouse. 
 Very quiet and home-like it looks in the afternoon 
 
DAYS OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 sunsLine of this warm August day. Standing upon 
 the northern shore of the St Lawrence, in one of the 
 most beautiful regions through which the grand old 
 river runs, very few persons, I fancy, would find fault 
 with its situation and surroundings. Built upon a 
 slight elevation but a few yards back from the river, 
 whose rushing waters make ceaseless music as they 
 curve in and out among the picturesque " Thousand 
 Isles," and wash the gray rocks in front, there are 
 very few who would not be content to call that white- 
 walled farmhouse — Home. 
 
 The interior of the house, with its large, low rooms 
 and wide fireplaces, its corner cupboards and old- 
 fashioned furniture, well fulfils the promise of comfort 
 suggested by its outside appearance. 
 
 The milk-house, where we left Mrs Grey, consists of 
 a single room, built so close to the water's edge that 
 the smooth stone floor is always damp and cold. A 
 single rock forms the wall upon one side, and the 
 other sides and roof are so covered with wild-grape 
 vines, that a stranger would never suspect that rolls 
 of golden butter, and rows of well-filled milk-pans, are 
 kept cool and fresh beneath their shade. 
 
 Sit down with me upon the grass-plot under the 
 wide-spread branches of this American elm, and with 
 the blue, free waters rolling at our feet, and the loving 
 atmosphere of "home wafted to us from the pleasant 
 
 3 
 
DAYS OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 house : I will tell you of its inmates, and, as far as I 
 can, relate their histories. 
 
 We will go back through the years of our century 
 that are already gone, to eighteen hundred, and stand, 
 in imagination, upon the deck of a vessel just leaving 
 the shores of " Bonnie Scotland " for the far-away 
 Western World. Among the many hopeful ones who 
 are now looking tearfully, " for the last time," at their 
 native land, is a brave Glasgow laddie of twenty years. 
 Stout-hearted as he is, the courage of Robert Grey 
 almost fails him when the last rope is thrown upon 
 the deck, and the final parting comes. He feels 
 already the home-sick yearning for friendly faces and 
 familiar scenes, and half regrets his decision to leave 
 them all. Toil and danger, perhaps death, await him 
 in the wild country to which he is bound, and a vision 
 of his father's house, and the bustling, active street, 
 for a moment, throws the unknown future into very 
 dark shadow. - , 
 
 But more hopeful thoughts come soon, as he re- 
 members the wide, unexplored lands, the rich, uncul- 
 tivated soil, which labour and energy will so soon make 
 productive. 
 
 Bright dreams of honour and prosperity drive away 
 the present sadness, and, with God's blessing, he re- 
 solves to be all that industry and honesty can make 
 him in his adopted land. 
 
 4 
 
DAYS OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 It is sixty years since that resolution was made. If 
 you ask how it was kept: think of the brave heart 
 that upheld him twelve years later at the siege of 
 Detroit ; that carried him, under Sir Isaac Brock, up 
 the heights of Queenston ; that burned with patriot- 
 fire until the invaders were driven from Canada, and 
 the war was closed. Look over these broad fields in 
 all their rich productiveness. Speak of him to the 
 many who respected and loved him in life, and who 
 h'onour his memory now. Stand over his grave, and 
 read how he went triumphantly to the Christian's 
 home, when " old and full of days ; " — and these will 
 answer you. 
 
 There were many dark days of toil and privation, 
 ' many hardships to encounter ; but trust in God, and 
 the brave heart within him, upheld him through them 
 all. He worked at first in the vicinity of York, now 
 known as Toronto ; but, at the close of the war of 
 1812, settled upon this farm, a few miles from Brock- 
 ville, the town named in honour of the hero-general he 
 had loved and served so well. 
 
 Ten years ago he iied, leaving his only son, the pre- 
 sent Robert Grey, to possess the fields he had toiled 
 for, and the good name he had won. 
 
 Mrs Grey, who has long ago finished her work in 
 the milk-cellar, and gone to the house, is the grand- 
 daughter of a United Empire loyali'=»t, — one of those 
 
 5 
 
DAYS OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 true men who will ever be worthy of honourable 
 mention in our country's history. The adjoining 
 farm is her happy girlhood's home ; and to her, there 
 is no dearer place on earth than this sunny slope on 
 the St Lawrence shore. 
 
 But see ! the children are coming back from their 
 fishing excursion, and we will go to meet them. ' 
 
 You have already seen briglit, twelve-years-old Willie, 
 who carries so proudly the promised string of fish. 
 The larger of the girls is brown-eyed Jessie, two years 
 older than her brother, and the wee golden-haired lassie 
 she holds by the hand, is little Alice, who has just 
 counted her eighth birthday. 
 
 The canoe is drawn up high on the sands and fast, 
 ened securely to the great log, and then, talking ear- 
 nestly, they walk along the shore, towards the house. 
 But Allie spying " mamma at the door ! " the conver- 
 sation is broken off, and their tongues are soon running 
 busily as they tell of their afternoon's adventures. 
 
 Milking-time comes, and Willie, taking the pails, 
 coaxes Allie away with him to " help to milk, while 
 mamma and Jessie get tea ready." 
 
 The August sun sets, leaving a bright flush upon the 
 water, and lighting up the islands with new beauty. 
 
 The foaming milk-pails have been brought to the 
 house, and the milk strained into the shining row of 
 pans prepared for it. Supper has been eaten — Willie's 
 
DA YS OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 fish duly praised, and Jessie's busy fingers have helped 
 to wash and set away the dishes. 
 
 The family are sitting before the door in the pleasant 
 twilight. Mr Grey, tired with his labour in the harvest- 
 field, is lying upon the wooden seat beneath the window; 
 and the children are grouped about their mother upon 
 the steps. - : .; 
 
 They are still talking of what tliey had seen and said, 
 in their sail and ramble among the islands. -^ 
 
 "We stopped at Chimney Island, mamma," says 
 Willie ; " and Jessie sat there trying to make herself 
 believe that the old chimney svas a great castle, like the 
 ones Sir Walter Scott tells about in his poems, and that 
 we had been driven there by a storm and were just 
 waiting for the warder to admit us." 
 
 "And Willie pretended," says Jessie, "that the 
 block-house stood there, strong and new, with the 
 cannons upon the embankment, and that the old maga- 
 zine was still full of powder and bombs ! And he was 
 one of the red-coated soldiers who defended it, while 
 the Americans were upon Grenadier Island, preparing 
 to attack Canada." 
 
 " And what did my little Allie think of?" asks Mrs 
 Grey, 
 
 " Oh, I don't know ! mamma. I listened to Jessie 
 
 and Willie, and liked to hear them talk, and was glad 
 
 that the cannons and soldiers were not needed on our 
 
 7 
 
DA YS OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 islands now ; but as we sat in the shade of the steep 
 rock, I thought how pleasant it was to get out of the 
 hot sunshine, and a verse that papa read this morning 
 came into my mind, about * the shadow of a great rock 
 in a weary land,' and I felt how beautiful it was ! " 
 
 " Yes," says her mother, " that is the way with us 
 all. If you had not been made uncomfortable first, 
 by the warm sunshine, you would not have realized 
 how cool and refreshing the shade was ; and in the 
 same way we do not feel the love and presence of God 
 until trouble or danger shows us our need of Him." 
 
 They are all quiet for a time, and then Jessie begins 
 to sing, softly, the Evening Hymn. Her mother 
 and brother join in the second verse, and when they 
 have finished, and the last echo of their voices has died 
 away from among the trees and islands, Mr Grey 
 arises and talks with them of that happy land, where 
 an everlasting home is prepared for all who love God 
 and do His commandments. - 
 
 And then they kneel in the open air, while he praya 
 that their heavenly Father will protect and keep them, 
 and bring them, at last, to join those who have crossed 
 the dark river and entered that land, to dwell ''for 
 ever with the Lord." 
 
 In a few moments, quietness and slumber have 
 
 settled upon the house, and the blue St Lawrence 
 
 waters sweep on towards the broad Atlantic just as 
 
 8 
 
DA YS OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 they swept two hundred years ago, when the wigwam 
 of an Iroquoia chieftain stood where its white walla 
 stand. 
 
 The noble olu river has witnessed many changes and 
 bitter conflicts in the passing of these years. The 
 Deautiful hunting-grounds that the Indian then roamed 
 over in unfettered freedom, have passed into the pos- 
 session of civilised and Christian men ; and the white- 
 winged messengers of commerce and peace float where 
 his bark canoe then glided. The wild war-whoop has 
 given place to the shriek of the steam-engine, and the 
 noise of savage battle to the hum of busy machinery. 
 And, better than all else, true Christian hearts are 
 lifted in prayer to a known and only God, instead of 
 blind worship paid to a mystical and dreaded spirit 
 And with the heritage of this goodly land, are granted 
 to its inhabitants liberties and privileges enjoyed by 
 very few other nations. " The lines are fallen unto V4 
 in pleasant places » " 
 
 B 
 
i^ 
 
 11 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 " Faith alone can interpret life, and the 
 
 Heart that aches and bleeds with the stigma 
 Of pain, alone bears the likeness of Christ, 
 And can comprehend its dark enigma." 
 
 — Longfellow. 
 
 LL the next morning, while Jessie Grey- 
 is engaged with her work and studies, 
 the memory of what her mother said the 
 night before, about trouble being necessary to 
 bring the heart to God, is in her mind. 
 
 " I wonder what sorrow will come to me, to 
 make me love Him more 1 " she thinks. " Oh 
 how I wish I could feel as mamma does about 
 such things ! " : \ v 
 
 Willie and AUie have gone to school, so there 
 is nothing to draw her attention from the few 
 words, fitly spoken, that had attracted it. 
 
 ID 
 
SUMMER CLOUDS. 
 
 The children attend the district school, nctarly two 
 miles away ; but for the last few months Jessie has 
 read and recited with her mother at home. Her parents 
 intend that she shall have the advantage of a course of 
 study in a college or ladies' seminary, but until her 
 tastes and habits are more developed and settled, they 
 think home and home-influences the best teachers. 
 Mrs Grey's education had been a thorough one, and 
 her daughter's attainments are in no danger of standing 
 still under her care. 
 
 The warm summer morning wears away, and the 
 long noon rest that Mr Grey allows himself and his 
 harvesters is over. 
 
 Jessie brings her books to the pleasant sitting-room, 
 and sits down by her mother's side, prepared to recite 
 ner lessons. 
 
 Mrs Grey has observed the unusual thoughtfulness 
 of her little daughter several times through the d-y, 
 and seeing that her mind is now far away from ohe 
 history lesson she is attempting to read, she asks, play- 
 fully, " Can you not decide between King and Parlia- 
 ment, Jessie? or is it some nearer trouble than poor 
 King Charles's?" 
 
 "Oh yes, mamma; I 've been thinking all day of what 
 
 you said last night, and I can't understand how trouble 
 
 and care can make us better. It seems to me that I 
 
 ■would love God more if He would let me be always 
 
 II 
 
SUMMER CLOUDS. 
 
 happy, than if I knew and felt that He had sent some 
 great sorrow upon me." 
 
 " Who knows best what is for our good, Jessie ? " 
 " God does, of course, mamma." 
 *' And if we believe that He knows what we need, 
 and that He is too merciful and loving to afllict us 
 without cause, can we not take whatever He sends as 
 a proof of His love ?— can we not trust that each trial 
 but shows His watchfulness and care over us ? " 
 
 " But I cannot see, mamma, why He should make 
 us suflfer if He loves us so ; I 'm sure we do not like to 
 give pain to people we care for." 
 
 " When you were a little girl, Jessie, you were some- 
 times punished for faults that were at the time very 
 trifling, but which, if allowed then, would have grown 
 to be very serious ones. You suffered pain at the time, 
 and perbips thought your papa and I very cruel; but 
 do you love us less now, or believe that we would have 
 punished you needlessly ? " 
 
 " Oh no, mamma, because I can understand now that 
 it was for my good, and that it was necessary." 
 
 " And just so, my daughter, trials that seem ' too 
 great to be borne,' turn out to be our greatest blessings, 
 and we will, sooner or later, recognize our Father's 
 hand and be strengthened in believing 'that He doeth 
 all things well.' It is not always a sudden or great 
 Borrow that brings us to this belief," continues Mrs 
 
 12 
 
SUMMER CLOUDS. 
 
 Grey ; " sometimes it is learned from every-day cares 
 and the little vexations of every-day life. 
 
 " Put away your books for tliis afternoon, Jessie : and 
 I will tell you how the lesson was taught my grand- 
 mother." 
 
 Histories and grammars are quickly placed upon 
 Jessie's own shelf in the tall bookcase, and she seats 
 herself in the shaded doorway, with her work-basket at 
 her side, to listen to the promised sfory. 
 
 " You have read of the American revolution," says 
 her mother, "and remember how that, in the year 
 1776, the greater part of the colonists of New Eng- 
 land thought themselves justified in breaking off their 
 relations with the mother-country, and setting up a 
 government of their own. My grand-parents had then 
 been married but a short time. 
 
 " Grandmother's ancestors were among the first 
 settlers in America, and at the opening of the war, her 
 father and brothers took sides with the revolutionists, 
 or rebels, while ' ler husband remained a firm royalist. 
 
 "They wer6 living upon a well-cultivated farm in 
 Massachusetts, and were surrounded by all the comforts 
 and luxuries of an old-settled country. But when the 
 strife became one between principle and self-interest, 
 my grandfather did not hesitate to sacrifice the latter. 
 Loyalty to king and government had been too great a 
 part of his education to be easily forgotten, and his 
 
 13 
 
SUMMER CLOUDS. 
 
 true British heart could not turn traitor to his British 
 sires ! All through the six years of the war, those who 
 had been his warmest friends were at enmity with him ; 
 and when it was closed, by Great Britain recognising 
 the independence of the States, he was forced to leave 
 his beautiful home and begin life again in a new 
 country. 
 
 " As was natural, my grandmother's heart clung very 
 closely to her old home and friends, but she knew it wa.'i 
 vain to try to influence her husband in the stand he 
 bad taken 'for conscience' sake.' She said good-bye 
 to the fair homestead and household goods that were so 
 dear, and came to Canada with only a half-hearted 
 agreement in the necessity for the sacrifice. She 
 remained at Montreal, while my grandfather came here 
 to prepare a house for the family ; and I have often 
 heard her tell of the chilly November evening upon 
 which she arrived at her new home, and the bitter 
 comparisons she made between the little log cabin, and 
 the commodious farm-house she had left for it. 
 
 " And when the long Canadian winter set in, her dis- 
 content increased every day. 
 
 " They had been obliged to leave all but the plainest 
 and most necessary articles of furniture, and even these 
 were crowded in the two tiny rooms their cabin 
 boasted. Instead of the abundant variety of food to 
 which they had been accustomed, they were able to 
 
 14 
 
u 
 
 SUMMER CLOUDS. 
 
 procure but a limited supply of the commonest neces- 
 saries. The heart of the thrifty New-England house- 
 keeper sighed, regretfully, for the well-tilled pantries 
 of her old home; or, as my grandfather would say, 
 jestingly, she 'wept when she remembered the flesh- 
 pots of Egypt ! ' It was a great change from the 
 thickly-settled neighbourhood they had left. 
 
 " The small clearing in which the house stood was 
 completely shut in, on three sides, by naked forest 
 trees, and the ist-frozen river in front seemed to 
 separate her from all society, and luxury, and happi- 
 ness. The winter passed away, and March came with 
 its boisterous winds and deep snowdrifts. 
 
 " With all their privations the family had, as yet, 
 enjoyed excellent health, but my grandfather came in 
 one night from the woods, where he had been chopping 
 all day in the wet, weary and chilled ; and the next 
 morning found him very ill. For many weeks my 
 grandmother watched and tended him, all other causes 
 of complaint forgotten, and all other sorrows as nothing 
 compared with this ! Death came very very near her 
 humble home, and in the shadow of his dread presence 
 she felt how ungrateful her murmuring had been, and 
 acknowledged the justness of its punishment. Strength 
 and health did not come back to the sick man, until 
 the first warm days of spring ; and in all that time, my 
 grandmother was without other assistance than that of 
 
 15 
 
SUMMER CLOUDS. 
 
 a I'ttle girl, six years of age, my Aunt Nellie. But 
 repining and regret for the past were ended. Her 
 husband had ro nearly approached death, that she 
 realized how comparatively small the loss of other 
 friends was; and real discomforts seemed but trifles, 
 when compared with what might have been. 
 
 " She has often said, when talking of thoi early days 
 in her Canadian home, ' If it had not been for the 
 breaking up of old habits and associations, caused by 
 our removal and the hardships that attended it, it is 
 very likely that I would never have found how insuffi- 
 cient all earthly supports are ; or have felt my need of 
 a higher source of dependence. God saw that my heart 
 was in danger of being filled with the " cares of this 
 world, and the deceitfulness of riches," and took away 
 the causes of them, for a time, that 1 might remember 
 Him.' And so you will find, my daughter," concludes 
 Mrs Grey, « that all our seeming ills are blessings in 
 disguise, and all our trials are necessary in the disci- 
 pline of life." 
 
 " How glad I am, mamma, that we do not live in 
 those old days, and do not have to go through the 
 hardships and dangers that the early settlers did ! " 
 
 "We have great reason to be thankful, Jessie, 
 
 and to remember with gratitude the brave men 
 
 who toiled and suflfered in securing our homes, who 
 
 sacrificed their wealth and imperilled their lives, to 
 
 i6 
 
SUMMER CLOUDS. 
 
 gain and preserve for us the birthright of British 
 subjects. 
 
 " Canada may well be proud of her found'^rs ; and her 
 sons of the present and future can do no nobler work 
 in guarding and improving her institutions, than their 
 fathers did in laying the foundations and preparing the 
 way for their building. But I have talked long enough, 
 now ; and I am sure you will not forget the moral of my 
 story." 
 
 "I will try not, mamma. Thank you for helping 
 me out of my difficulty. I think I understand what 
 puzzled me so j and yet I can't help wishing that sor- 
 row may stay away from me. I have always been so 
 happy, that I can't bear to think of a change." 
 
 Her quick, joyous step, as she runs to meet her 
 brother and sister on their way home from school, 
 shows that the passing cloud is all dispelled from her 
 mind. 
 
 Very fervently does Mrs Grey pray that the light 
 heart of her child may not be burdened for a long 
 long time, by the sad experiences that bow down so 
 many of Earth's children. 
 
 The road to the school-house winds along the bank of 
 the river for nearly half the distance, and then enters 
 the woods. 
 
 Jessie finds Willie and AUie seated upon a great 
 moss-covered rock, which they have named ** The Half- 
 
 17 
 
SUMMER CLOUDS. 
 
 way House," and where they generally stop to rest, 
 going to and from school. 
 
 Allie's basket is almost filled with a varied collection 
 of snail-shells, bits of moss, leaves and flowers, a 
 deserted bird's-nest, and a quantity of winter-green 
 berries ; while Willie's satchel is heavy with a fortune 
 of " gold-bearing quartz ! " that looks very like mica 
 and iron-pyrites to Jessie's eyes. 
 
 They have much to tell of their new teacher and the 
 examination she had made to find how much they 
 already know. 
 
 Willie is to begin bookkeeping, and, in imagination, 
 he has already taken upon himself the care of the farm 
 accounts, and thereby saved unheard-of sums. 
 
 " And I 'm to read in the fourth class, and begin to 
 study grammar," says AUie. " Oh ! I'm so glad, and 
 I must hurry to tell mamma;" and she jumps from her 
 seat, and dances gleefully along the road, followed by 
 her brother and sister. 
 
 vYillie is evidently very much in love with his new 
 teacher. " I tell you what, Jessie," he exclaims, " she 'a 
 just first-rate. The scholars were quieter than I ever 
 knew them to be before, and yet she never spoke 
 loudly, or as though she felt cross, once. / intend to 
 like her, and study real hard, any way." His 'lively 
 imagination flies on from this, through and beyond 
 school-going days, to the use he will make of his edu- 
 
 i8 
 
SUMMER CLOUDS. 
 
 cation, and the great things he intends to accomplish 
 " when he is a man ! " 
 
 They soon reach home, where the news must all 
 be told again to " papa " and " mamma," and their 
 sympathy received. 
 
 And the sun goes down, and the bright sunset clouds 
 give way to the long summer twilight, from whose 
 mists arises the quiet night. And the calm moon looks 
 down on many happy homes in our fair Canada, but 
 upon none more peaceful and contented than that of 
 Jessie Grey. 
 
 HOME. 
 
 " A dearer, sweeter spot than aU the rest, 
 Where man, creation's tyrant, casts aside 
 His sword and sceptre, pageantry and pride, 
 While in his soften'd looks benignly blend 
 The sire, the son, the husband, brother, friend : 
 Here woman reigns ; the mother, daughter, wife. 
 Strews with fresh flowers the narrow path of life ; 
 In the clear heaven of her delightful eye, 
 Au angel-guard of loves and graces lie ; 
 Around her knees domestic duties meet, 
 And fireside pleasures gambol at her feet. 
 Where shall that land, that spot of earth, be found? 
 Art thou a man ? a patriot 1 look around ; 
 Oh, thou Shalt find, howe'er thy footsteps roam. 
 That land thy country, and that spot thy home." 
 
 — MoirraoMERY. 
 
I 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 gi gag at ^t^ool ; 
 
 " Sweet promptings unto kindest deeds 
 Were in her very look ; 
 We read her face, as one who reads < 
 
 A true and holy book." 
 
 — Whittier, 
 
 T is Friday morning, the Slat of August, 
 and the last day of the summer months. 
 To-morrow, another season begins — the 
 season in which trees and plants yield their in- 
 crease — the golden, fruit-bearing autumn 1 
 
 We will go with Allie and Willie, this morn- 
 ing, and be first to write our names in the 
 Visitors' Book of this new term at the district 
 school. 
 
 It is about half-past seven, as we leave the 
 house, already made neat and orderly for the 
 day, and start upon our two miles' walk. 
 A ridge of land rises, close to the water's edge, 
 
 20 
 
A DAY AT SCHOOL. 
 
 a quarter of a mile away, on the top of which Allie 
 stops us, to ** take a last look at home." 
 
 " Isn't it funny 1 " says Willie, as we stand upon the 
 high bank and look ovei the sparkling river; "it 
 seems so strange to think that nearly all this water 
 has come away from Lake Huron, or Superior, or even 
 farther, and has taken that great flying-leap at Niagara 
 on its way." 
 
 " Yes," answers Allie ; " and think of all the towns, 
 and cities, and houses H has passed in the miles that 
 lie between, and the number of people who have sailed 
 upon it and watched it !" 
 
 " How I wish it could tell us all it has seen ; don't 
 you, Allie 1 What a long story it would be ! I mean 
 to go away up to Manitoulin Island when I am a man, 
 and sail down from there. I '11 take you too, Allie, if 
 you '11 go." 
 
 "When you are a man — I don't know, Willie — I 
 suppose I would like it, but we can't tell what may 
 happen. Someway," she goes on, musingly, " the river 
 from here always makes me think of that ' pure river 
 of the water of life, clear as crystal,' that it tells about 
 in Eevelation. It is so perfectly beautiful ! It seems 
 as if there couldn't be a lovelier place in the world." 
 
 « / don't believe there is," asserts Willie. " But we 
 shall be late for school, if we stay here any longer, and 
 that wouldn't be very nice." 
 
 21 
 
A DAY AT SCHOOL. 
 
 " T don't see how you always remember your Bible 
 verses," he continues, as we walk on ; "I scarcely ever 
 think of them ; but they seem to be in your mind all 
 the time, and one is ready for everything." 
 
 " Beautiful things seem to bring them to my mind/* 
 answers AUie ; " they say just what I feel, and no 
 other words can." 
 
 And now we enter the woods. The shade is very 
 pleasant even at this early hour, and the perfume of 
 ferns and flowers and decaying wood fills the air with 
 fragrance. 
 
 Sweet-voiced birds are singing in the overhanging 
 branches of elms, hickories, and maples, and myriad 
 insects are busily getting together their stores of winter 
 food. Here and there a brisk squirrel peeps out from 
 behind a tree-trunk, or scampers from log to log, iu 
 well-feigned alarm and anxiety to reach his own snug 
 nest. 
 
 If it '^ere always summer in our Canadian woods, 
 one would be almost content to live as the red man 
 has, with no wish for the boasted advantages of culti- 
 vation. Here are subjects for study, enough to engross 
 a lifetime, and here are nature's own best text-books. 
 
 But we soon come out again to the road, and then 
 a sudden turn brings the school-house in sight. 
 
 There it stands, upon one of those abruptly-terminat- 
 ing hills, so often found in this part of the Laurentian 
 
 22 
 
A DAY AT SCHOOL. 
 
 cLain. The sloping side of tie hill, which stretches 
 away westward as far as the eye can reach, has ap- 
 parently a considerable depth of fertile soil ; but the 
 great mass of sandstone, in front of us, seems to have 
 put a final limit to the elevation in this direction. 
 
 Perched upon this enormous rock, is the school-house. 
 Its weather-beaten walls are almost the same colour as 
 the lichens with which its huge foundation is over- 
 grown ; and the hot rays of the sun beat down upon 
 its roof, as if to punish it for standing in such an un- 
 protected spot, while so many shaded places are near. 
 
 It is not quite nine o'clock, and a group of laughing 
 children run to meet Willie and AUie, their noisy greet- 
 ings stopped only by the ringing of the bell. The 
 new teacher. Miss Mills, stands at the door, and a very 
 intelligent and pleasant-looking lady we think her, as 
 she smilingly checks the boisterous children, in their 
 hurry to be seated. 
 
 There are but thirty names upon the register as 
 yet, for only the younger girls and boys can be spared 
 from the farms, until this busy harvesting and berrying 
 season is over. 
 
 The work of the school begins, and goes busily on ; 
 bright-eyed Willie Grey, with his clear, ready answers, 
 being generally first in his classes, while gentle, little 
 AUie seems to have already gained the love of her 
 teacher. 
 
 23 
 
■* A DAY AT SCHOOL. 
 
 Recess comes, and is over; and, by and by, it is noon. 
 Pails and baskets are carried to ibe grove, and there, 
 with many gay speeches and merry peals of laughter, 
 the dinners are eaten. " How nice it would be to have 
 school out here, instead of in that hot, old school- 
 house!" says a roguish little gipsy who is dancing about, 
 with both hands full of bread and butter. 
 
 All agree that it would be, and are overjoyed when 
 Miss Mills says, pleasantly — " / have been thinking 
 of the plan, and we will try this afternoon how quiet 
 you can be here." 
 
 And now t^.e children scatter about in every direction : 
 some to the side of the spring, where their drinking- 
 vessels vary from tin to folded leaves; some to a 
 neighbouring orchard in search of windfalls; the 
 greater part of the boys to play marbles against the 
 school-house rock; while a few quiet ones remain 
 sitting with their teacher, who reads aloud from a book 
 of poems. 
 
 The hour is quickly gone, and with one o'clock the 
 novelty of " school out of doors " begins. 
 
 The little scholars are as quiet and attentive as can 
 be expected, and half-past three finds the lessons all 
 recited. 
 
 A large bunch of wild-flowers had been brought to 
 Miss Mills at noon ; and now, taking them up, she 
 teaches the children to know the different parts of the 
 
 24 
 
A DAY AT SCHOOL. 
 
 flower, and explains how it grows and ripens ; how 
 the ovules are nourished and defended until their 
 rootlets and branches are able to strive for themselves 
 in the clear air and the fresh earth, and the tiny 
 embryo becomes a large tree or plant. Then she tells 
 them of the wondrous variety in size and beauty that 
 is produced by the colouring and position of the petals, 
 and from that comes to the old lesson — " Consider the 
 lilies ! " The sweet voice is very earnest as it speaks 
 of the Hand that forms and cares for the flowers, and 
 of the Love that watches over little children too, to 
 guard them more lovingly than all fc.se, if they will 
 but trust to it. 
 
 The double lesson sinks deep in many a childish 
 heart; and in long years to come the sight of these 
 simple wild-flowers will bring to remembrance the 
 loving Father who watches over all His works, and 
 the gentle voice that told them of His love upon this 
 school-house green. 
 
 We take the pleasant walk homeward through the 
 rustling woods, and along the river shore, glad and 
 thankful that in our favoured land so many teachers 
 may be found who enter upon their work, feeling the 
 responsibility that rests upon them, and determined 
 to fulfil their mission well. 
 
 There can be no morr* solemn trust confided than 
 
 that given to a teacher, for, " What ye write on the 
 
 25 D 
 
A DAY AT SCHOOL. 
 
 tablet remains there still;" and Jesus said, "Take 
 heed that ye despise not one of these little ones, for in 
 heaven their angels do always behold the face of my 
 Father which is in heaven." 
 
 <' Qod might hare made the earth bring forth 
 Euough for great and small ; 
 The oak tree and the cedar tree. 
 And not & flower at all. 
 
 ** He might have made enough, enough, 
 For every want of ours ; 
 For medicine, luxury, and food ; 
 And yet have made nojlowtrs, 
 
 ♦• Then wherefore, wherefore were they made 
 All dyed in rainbow light, 
 All &shion'd with pnpremest grace 
 Up-springing day and nigh'j 7 
 
 " Springing in valleys green and low. 
 And on the mountains high. 
 And in the secret wilderness 
 Where no man passeth by? 
 
 " Our outward life required them not ; 
 Then whcrefor3 had they birth f 
 To min ster delight to man, 
 And beautify the earth. 
 
 « To comfort man and whisper hope 
 Whene'er his faith grows dim ; 
 For God who careth for the flowers, 
 Will mwih more care for him." 
 
 HOWITT. 
 
.1 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 f fee *'@Iir gags." 
 
 " Not once or twice in our young nation's story, 
 The path of duty was the way to glory : 
 He, that ever following her commands,— 
 Shall find the toppling crags of Duty scaled, 
 Are close upon the shining table-lands 
 To which our God himself is moon and sun." 
 
 BOUT a irile from Mr Grey's, the river 
 makes a sudden bend that forms a sharp 
 projection of a few acres of land, called 
 The Point. 
 
 Upon it stands the old log-house in which his 
 father first settled, and where he was born. It 
 has been inhabited, for the last twenty years, 
 by an old French woman — Madame Bernard — 
 known as " Grandma," or " Granny Bernard," 
 through all the neighbourhood. Though past 
 seventy years old, she still partly supports her- 
 self by weaving and knitting for the neighbour- 
 ing farmers' wives, especially for Mrs Grey. 
 
 27 
 
THE ''OLD days:' 
 
 She was born in Lowe;* Canada, and lived there the 
 greater part of her life. She loves dearly to talk of 
 the old days at Quebec, and tell old-time stories of 
 " beautiful France," the far-away land of her fathers. 
 Just as dearly do Willie Grey and his sisters love to 
 listen to these stories, and very few Saturdays pass 
 that they do not visit her. 
 
 Come with me through these long, straggling lines of 
 bushes, that, in the times gone by, were trim rows of 
 lilac and currant and gooseberry, that marked the paths 
 of the garden about the old house. The rough logs of 
 which its walls are composed, are all concealed, upon 
 this side, by a luxuriant growth of hop-vines. They 
 have climbed away over the roof, and hang in fragrant 
 clusters over the little orch that shades the doorway 
 in front. Within the porch stands an aged woman, 
 gazing anxiously up the road. The years that have 
 bent the small figure, and silvered the hair, seem to 
 have left undimmed the piercing black eyes, now 
 lighting up with pleasure, as her watching is rewarded 
 by the appearance of the expected guests. 
 
 They quicken their steps as they draw near the 
 house, and are soon beneath tjie pleasant shade of the 
 hop-vines with their old friend. 
 
 Willie has brought a basket of cakes, of Jessie's 
 
 baking, which are to place her among the famous cooks 
 
 of the age in " Grandma's " estimation, as they already 
 
 28 
 
GRANDMA BERNARD. 
 
 " The years that have bent the small figure, and silvered the hair, seem 
 to have left undimmed the piercing black eyes, now lighting up with plea- 
 sure." — Page 28. 
 
THE ''OLD DAYS." 
 
 have in Ms own. She welcomes them cheerily, and, 
 with genuine Trench politeness, provides a glass of cold 
 water and a fan of folded newspaper for each after 
 
 their long walk. 
 
 They are soon rested, and Willie and Allie find a 
 skein of yarn to wind, while Grandma takes her knitting 
 and watches Jessie admiringly as she crimps the border 
 of a new cap sent by her mother. 
 
 « And now for a story," says Willie ; « you promised, 
 you know, Grandma, to tell us about the taking of 
 Quebec by the English." 
 
 " Ah ! my dear child, that was a sorrowful time for 
 the poor French, though I suppose it is quite right now. 
 Well, you must know, my father came over from his 
 beloved France under the great General Montcalm, 
 when he was sent to aid the colonists of New France 
 against the English in the year 1756. For two years 
 they fought, being successful at Oswego, Fort William- 
 Henry, Carrillon, and Montmorenci; and then came 
 that day that added Canada to England's empire. 
 General Wolfe, the victorious English leader, began the 
 siege of Quebec in June 1759. 
 
 "For nearly three months the army and citizens 
 
 within held their position; and then the English, 
 
 by doing what the French deemed could only be done 
 
 by a miracle, gained their great advantage. My father 
 
 has often told us of their wonder and dismay, when 
 
 29 
 
THE "OLD DAYS » 
 
 they awoke upon the morning of that thirteenth of 
 September, to find the enemy upon the Plains. 
 
 " During the night they had landed at the Fuller's 
 Cove, surprised the sentries, and climbed the almost 
 perpendicular heights, of nearly three hundred feet, 
 that none but British soldiers would have thought of 
 attempting. 
 
 " The French troops were so dispersed, that the part 
 ready to enter the field was very much smaller than the 
 British army ; but their beloved Montcalm led them 
 out, and they began the battle. All the world knows 
 the result. 
 
 "The British were successful; but young, heroic 
 "Wolfe closed his eyes in death upon the victorious 
 field ; and brave Montcalm was carried from his last 
 defeat to be buried next morning in the Ursuline 
 Chapel at Quebec. 
 
 " My father, a soldier in the ranks, was wounded 
 almost at the same time as his general, and for some 
 days was insensible. When he recovered sufficiently 
 to ask the issue of the battle, the city had been surren- 
 dered, and the British had established that power in 
 Canada they have never since lost. 
 
 " My mother's ancestors came over from France with 
 
 Champlain, and had lived in Quebec since its first 
 
 founding. Her father's house was in the lower town, 
 
 which had been all destroyed by fire some days before 
 
 30 
 
THE ''OLD DAYS." 
 
 the great battle. They were living in a small, comfort- 
 less room, a little beyond the city, and were in great 
 distress ; but they still had sympathy to spare for those 
 who- had been wounded in fighting for them. My 
 father was carried from the Plains to their humble 
 dwelling ; and for a long time they nursed the poor 
 young soldier, who was sutfering so far from his native 
 land. It was many months before he was quite well, 
 and then gratitude and love for the ones who had been 
 so kind to him were stronger than the old home-ties, 
 and he returned to France no more. He was too ill to 
 join the French in their final attempt to regain their 
 possessions; and when the English government was 
 settled, and the people reconciled to the change, he 
 soon secured a comfortable home in the new British 
 colony. My father would often walk over the old 
 battle-ground, while he described to us children how 
 the ani\'5s were placed, and upon what spot his general 
 fell. Then he would talk of his bright, handsome face 
 and flashing eye, so well known and loved by all the 
 French soldiers, and tell us of the strange foreboding of 
 ill-fortune that took possession of the brave heart ; how 
 a shadow of final overthrow went with him through 
 victory and defeat, that at last affected his soldiers too. 
 * It was doubtless caused,' my father said, * by the 
 difficulties they encountered, and by the cruel hunger 
 
 from which both colonists and soldiers sometimes 
 
 31 
 
THE ** OLD days:* 
 
 suffered, through failures in the harvests, and delays in 
 their supplies from France.' " 
 
 "And you have seen Wolfe's monument, haven't 
 you, Grandma?" breaks in Willie; "the gallant, 
 glorious Wolfe ! who * died content * when he knew 
 that the British were victorious 1 " 
 
 " Yes, my dear child, very many times ; and I am 
 quite as glad as you that he was victorious, though 
 perhaps not quite as proud of him." 
 
 " Why are you glad. Grandma ? " asks Allie. 
 
 " Because that through the coming of the English 
 very many have learned to trust for pardon only in the 
 one precious Sacrifice that was offered for all, instead 
 of in unavailing gifts and penances of their own. 
 Because, I humbly believe, that I myself have been 
 taught by them to find the peace that no earthly abso- 
 lution can give." 
 
 There is a depth and fervency in the voice that 
 utters this simple confession of faith, that leaves no 
 doubt of its earnestness and sincerity. 
 
 We cannot give the broken accents and many idioms 
 by which Grandma expresses herself, and which render 
 her narratives all the more charming in the opinions of 
 the children ; but this is the substance of her story. 
 
 Mr Grey promised to come down in the canoe to 
 
 take them home, so they are in no hurry to leave their 
 
 old friend. 
 
 32 
 
THE *' OLD days:' 
 
 They have tea, and Jessie's cakes are praised, quite 
 to Willie's satisfaction; and then they sit before the 
 door and sing, while the twilight shadows are lengthen- 
 ing towards the night. 
 
 Very sweet do their childish voices sound to the 
 old woman, who is so near the end of her life-journey, 
 as they sing the praises of the only Friend left to 
 her old age. Parents, brothers, children, have all 
 passed ; and now, as she draws near the last of her 
 fourscore years, there is no earthly arm upon which she 
 may lean — there is no one left her but her God ! Tho 
 hymns of the children seem to bring His all-sufficient 
 love and presence very near, and her heart rejoices in 
 remembering that His care can never be removed. 
 
 Their father comes at last, and with many a kind 
 good-bye, and promise to come again soon, they step 
 into the canoe, and leave the happy old woman in her 
 solitary home. 
 
 As they round the point, and come directly opposite 
 the old house, the moon rises, and her bright light 
 shining through from one window to another, for a 
 moment, makes it appear, as Willie exclaims it is, " all 
 afire inside ! " 
 
 " I remember a great alarm we had many years ago, 
 owing to those very windows," says his fatbar. " One 
 dark, rainy night, one of my sisters observed a strange 
 light a short distance from the house, and after watching 
 
 33 n 
 
THE ''OLD DAYS." 
 
 it for some time, spoke to the others about it. It ap- 
 peared to be of a pale blue colour, and seemed to glide 
 from one place to another, in a ghastly kind of move- 
 ment. I could not at all account for it. My father 
 spoke of decaying wood, and the ignis fatuus; but when, 
 next day, the exact spot was examined and found to be 
 a smooth grass-plot, that of course had to be given up. 
 Our servant-girl, and several of the neighbours who 
 believed in the supernatural, told grave stories of 
 buried gold that had been dishonestly gained, and 
 whispered of unquiet spirits who could not rest until 
 their bodies have been given Christian burial. The 
 children were terribly frightened, and nothing could 
 induce them to approach the mysterious spot. My 
 mother and I, however, started to examine it, but to 
 our surprise, when we had got within a certain distance, 
 the light would disappear. We could see it plainly until 
 we had passed a certain point, and then it was gone. 
 Our report strengthened the belief of the lovers of the 
 supernatural, who told yet more thrilling stories of 
 mysterious lights, to the added terror of the younger 
 ones. 
 
 " But my father had noticed that when the windows 
 were darkened, by many persons standing before them, 
 or from any other cause, the light always disappeared. 
 
 "You know where the lighthouse stands, a few 
 miles below the point, and how plainly its light can 
 
 34 
 
THE ''OLD days:' 
 
 be seen from the old house ? Well, by hanging heavy cur- 
 tains to the windows, upon which the rays from it fell, the 
 spectral light beyond was made to vanish entirely; and my 
 father explained how, by the reflection of the rays from 
 the surface of the water, and through the windows, the 
 false light that had so alarmed us was produced, and that 
 its apparent movement from place to place was caused by 
 the rippling of the water. And so the mystery turned 
 out to be 1.0 mystery at all, but only a few harmless rays 
 from the distant lighthouse, falling upon and shining 
 through the panes of glass in our windows. 
 
 "All such appearances and apparent mysteries, if 
 properly examined, would be found to proceed from 
 some such cause," concludes Mr Grey ; " and a great 
 many of the fearful tales of spectres and ghosts, so 
 often foolishly repeated and believed in, arise from 
 equally simple and harmless incidents." As he finishes 
 speaking, the canoe grates upon the stones at their own 
 landing, and the children spring ashore, resolving never 
 to be very much frightened by a ghost-story, until they 
 have well examined the cause of fear. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 ^n gingH's mBit 
 
 " There is a Reaper, whose name is Death, 
 And with his sickl'j keen. 
 He reaps the bearded grain at a breath, 
 And the flowers that grow between." 
 
 — Longfellow. 
 
 IME passes quickly and quietly away, 
 
 making very little change in the happy 
 
 home-life at the Greys'. The autumn 
 
 frost has touched with his icy wand the leaves 
 
 of trees and shrubs, and we find them dressed ia 
 
 more gorgeous robes than when last we saw them. 
 
 If possible, the shores and islands that confine 
 
 and adorn the noble old river are lovelier than 
 
 before, but there is no change in it ; its waters 
 
 still hurry with the same resistless power — on 
 
 to their burial in the great ocean ! 
 
 It is almost the last of October. The road 
 36 
 
. * 
 
 AN ANGEVS VISIT, 
 
 to school is strewn with fallen leaves, and many of the 
 birds have left their summer haunts to seek for others 
 
 far away. 
 
 The days are shortening, so that sunset comes very 
 soon after the children get home from school now, and 
 all things speak of the swift passing away of the 
 
 year. 
 
 It is a bright and pleasant afternoon though the 
 ground is still wet from a heavy shower of rain that 
 fell in the morning. ' "• * . 
 
 Jessie is beginning to watch for her brother and 
 sister, and they are just within sight of the "lOuse; 
 having reached the high bank that commands Allie's 
 favourite view of the river. 
 
 Her hand clasps her brother's, and they are talking 
 too earnestly to notice how near the edge of the dan- 
 gerous height they are walking. 
 
 Ah ! why is it that no pitying spirit warns Willie 
 Grey of the sorrow so near him % Why is he allow, i to 
 go on so gaily making plans, that the next moment 
 will render less than useless for ever % 
 
 The sound of their voices and footsteps startles one 
 of the small green and black snakes, so commonly found 
 near a river, and it rustles out from a bed of leaves, at 
 their very feet. «^ 
 
 With a quick, frightened cry, Allie lets go her grasp 
 of Willie's hand, and springs back upon the wet, slippery 
 
 37 
 
AN ANGEVS VISIT. 
 
 bank ; back so near to the treacherous edge, that she 
 loses her balance, and falls over ; and the deep, black 
 waters close over her, almost before her brother knows 
 what has happened. 
 
 His first wild impulse is, to plunge after her ; but a 
 thought of his insufficient strength, and the great depth 
 of the water there, restrains him. Waving his arms, he 
 screams loudly to his father and two men, who are 
 working in a field at a short distance ; and they, with 
 a quick comprehension of his meaning, run hurriedly 
 towards him. 
 
 He has seized a long piece of board that was lying 
 near, and is holding it down over the water, that she 
 may grasp it when she rises. But the smooth surface 
 remains unbroken ; and the little form he watches for 
 does not appear. His father has come, and has thrown 
 himself into the water, ready to snatch his darling from 
 its cruel depths ; but there is still no movement, it is 
 all undisturbed by the uplifted arms and pleading face, 
 so agonisi ^ly looked for ! 
 
 The canoe is brought up by the men, and he sees 
 them join his father, who is searching for his child, with 
 despairing energy, now ! 
 
 A terrible fear is settling down upon his heart, that 
 lie vainly tries to drive away; a fear that she is drowned; 
 that his little sister is gone from him for ever ! Thought 
 and consciousness give way before it at last, and 
 
 38 
 
AN ANGEVS VISIT. ' . 
 
 the dread weight of anxiety deadens every sense and 
 
 feeling. 
 
 Some one leads him away, and he awakens to find 
 himself in the house, with Jessie and his mother ; and 
 is wondering what it is that has so changed them all ; 
 that makes everything so dark and sorrowful % 
 
 Then hope is all gone, and the long suspense gives 
 way to despair ; to the dread certainty that their dar- 
 ling is dead I 
 
 It is nearly an hour before she is found. She had 
 sunk into one of the deep fissures of the river's bed, 
 and her dress catching upon a sharp projecting rock, 
 had prevented her rising. 
 
 And she is dead! The gentle, loving child, whose 
 voice sounded joyously, an hour ago, as she stood 
 where pitying men now stand and whisper of her 
 
 death. 
 
 She is dead ! And who will comfort the mother's 
 heart] Who will soften the father's grief, and turn to 
 blessing this first great burden of sorrow, that has 
 fallen upon the brother and sister, who so loved and 
 cherished her 1 
 
 She is dead ! And they bear the motionless little 
 figure within the saddened home, that only this morn- 
 ing she left so gaily. 
 
 Ah ! there are few households that cannot remember 
 such sorrows ; there are few parents who have not eu- 
 
 39 
 
AN ANGEVS VISIT. 
 
 (lured sucli bereavements. " Our great humanity " is 
 bound together, through sharing in common the suflFer 
 ing of such afflictions ; and almost every heart can look 
 back to some hour of utter hopelessness, when it was 
 unable to remember anything but the dead 1 
 
 We thank God, and are glad to know that there is 
 a Voice that can penetrate even this hopelessness — that 
 <;an bring relief to every human heart, however " heavy 
 laden." 
 
 The true Christian minds of Mr and Mrs Grey are 
 not long comfortless. They hear their Father whisper- 
 ing tender words of unfailing love ; and bowing before 
 Him, they repeat from their hearts, that old, old as- 
 surance of unshaken faith : " The Lord gave, and the 
 Lord hath taken away ; blessed be the name of the 
 Lord." 
 
 For a time Willie is completely overcome by sorrow, 
 and cannot be reconciled to his sister's loss. But as 
 his mother talks to him of the brightness of that better 
 country, where they believe their darling is ; and of 
 the loving Saviour, through whom they shall go to her; 
 his hopeful, buoyant nature casts off a part of the pre- 
 sent bittern js, in looking forward to that glad meeting. 
 "I will try to be submissive, mamma," he exclaims. 
 "I will try to think that she is waiting for me there; 
 instead of only remembering that she is gone from 
 
 me here. But, oh ! it seems so long, and I will miss 
 
 40 
 
AN ANGEVS VISIT. 
 
 her so all the way ! " And heavy sobs burst out again 
 from the troubled, boyish heart. 
 
 We find poor Jessie in her own room, where she has 
 been ever since her little sister was found. In the 
 struggle that is going on in her heart, there is more 
 than grief to battle with. The flood-gates of sorrow 
 seem to have all opened at once upon the gentle girl; 
 and when she tries to pray for strength and comfort, so 
 many rebellious thoughts darken the way, that she says 
 despairingly, she "cannot find Christ; that she cannot 
 love Him now, and will never, never be happy again !" 
 Ah ! little Jessie, they who would find Christ must 
 be willing to accept the Father's chastening ; and the 
 heart must say: "Thy will be done," before the pro- 
 mised Comforter is sent. 
 
 May God grant you patience to learn well this great 
 lesson of the Christian's faith ; and may your weary 
 child-heart come to Him and find rest ! 
 
 The long night passes away ; and the morning light 
 shines brightly upon the glancing river, and the sad- 
 dened home upon its banks, where the angel of death 
 has been. It shines in upon a little, white-robed figure 
 that lies strangely still, where kind hands have placed 
 it ; in stillness, never to be broken, for the spirit that 
 animated Allie Grey is with the angels now. 
 
 The look of perfect peace, that death always leaves 
 
 upon the features of little children, has settled upon 
 
 41 F 
 
AN ANGEL'S VISIT. 
 
 the sweet face, and when Jessie, who is kneeling beside 
 it, lifts her head to look at it, one would think some of 
 that peace had been imparted to her. Her pT,le face is 
 very sad ; but passion and rebellion are all gone, and 
 in its subdued expression is written submission to God's 
 will. 
 
 The loving arm that is " stronger than death " sup- 
 . ports her; and, in trusting faith, she has cast the burden 
 of her care upon that outstretched arm. 
 
 Pitying friends move softly about, speaking of the 
 goodness of the departed child j and making the neces- 
 sary preparations for the solemn ceremonies that attend 
 the final parting of the living from the dead. 
 
 The school-children come with their teacher, to look 
 for the last time upon the quiet face of their gentle 
 playmate; and many sad tears express their love for 
 her, and their sorrow that she is gone. 
 
 By and by the day ce les, when the little coffin, that 
 contains all that is left to them of their darling, is 
 carried out for ever from the home she had so loved. 
 
 They lay her in the quiet country graveyard, where 
 her grand-parents rest from their long years of labour ; 
 and the old minister repeats, over the tiny grave, the 
 beautiful words of Scripture promise, beginning : " I 
 am the resurrection and the life, saith the Lord." They 
 sink like healing dew into the hearts of the mourners, 
 filling them with holy thoughts of the One who entered 
 
 43 
 
AN ANGEVS VISIT. 
 
 the tomb to consecrate, for all time, its gloomy portals 
 with the remembrance of His presence. 
 
 They " hear a voice from heaven saying, Blessed are 
 the dead which die in the Lord," as they turn away 
 from the little grave ; and remember with solemn thank- 
 fulness, the blessedness of the loved one they have 
 
 lost. 
 
 And they come away and leave her there ; the little 
 child-flower, of whom the " Lord had need," beside the 
 " bearded grain " of age ! 
 
 " And their works do follow them." Happy for all 
 who rest in that enclosure, if the influences of their years 
 lead as surely to well-doing, as the few short days of life 
 that were granted to Alice Grey. 
 
loving 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 ' Alone unto our Fathers will 
 One thought hath reconciled ; 
 That He whose love exceedeth ours ',' 
 
 Hath taken home His child." 
 
 — Whittikr. 
 
 E come back to the lonely farmhouse, so 
 
 changed from the bright, cheerful place 
 
 we have known. A strange hush rests 
 
 within its walls, and upon the home-group, so 
 
 suddenly and sadly lessened. 
 
 They have " buried their dead ; " the little 
 form they miss is gone from them for ever ; the 
 sweet child-voice they long for is singing in a 
 far-away land, and will never be heard in earthly 
 music again. They have accepted the affliction 
 as from the hand of God, and have acknowledged 
 His right to do as seemeth Him good ; but their 
 hearts feel deeply the absence of the lost one, 
 
 44 
 
IN THE FIRELIGHT 
 
 and the yearning sense of " sometliing gone tliat sliould 
 be nigh," is ever present with them. 
 
 The walk to school is a very sad one for poor Willie 
 now. Allie is associated with every object on the way, 
 and memory recalls all their old conversations ; and 
 the countless golden plans that will never be realized, 
 that seemed so full of hope and joyousness, as they 
 talked them over upon this path. • 
 
 For many days there is a sorrowful shade upon the 
 boy's face, and a more thoughtful look comes into the 
 dark eyes, that were always so glad and full of merri- 
 ment before. 
 
 He does not forget his resolve, to try to be ready to 
 meet his little sister ; and the thought of her waiting 
 for him, is a strong help in keeping from tempta- 
 tion. ' 
 
 Jessie generally comes to meet him where the path 
 
 enters the woods ; and, sitting upon the great rock that 
 
 . has been danced over so joyously by the little feet of 
 
 their dead sister, they talk of her happiness, and their 
 
 own loneliness, and try to comfort one another. 
 
 Mr Grey misses drearily the glad embrace and sweet 
 voice that used to welcome him, and brighten his tired 
 evening hours. He sighs as he remembers that they 
 will greet him no more, until the long day of life is 
 over — until the night shadows of death have finished 
 all his labours ! 
 
 45 
 
IN THE FIRELIGHT. 
 
 But the mother's tender heart feels most deeply tho 
 loss of her baby-girl. 
 
 The quick, active minds of Jessie and Willie may 
 be engaged and interested in other things ; and other 
 matters may for a time make the father forget ; but 
 the aching void in her heart is never filled, and its 
 mourning for the dead " will not be comforted." 
 
 The loving face is growing very pale and thin, and 
 the quiet step is growing weaker every day ; for the 
 heart of the mother is bound very closely to her child, 
 and the silver cord may not be too suddenly broken. 
 
 The chilly November winds have snatched the last 
 leaves from the trees, and whirled them about at their 
 will ; and old winter is beginning his reign, by scatter- 
 ing his first snow-flakes over the frozen earth. 
 
 The wide fireplace, in the pleasant sitting-room we 
 love so well, has long ago been opened; and great, 
 glov/ing logs bum merrily within it ; their flames 
 sending warmth and light through all the room. It 
 seems even more pleasant this cold winter evening, 
 than in its summer airiness ; for a cozy, home feeling 
 springs from the very back-log in the huge chimney, 
 and diffuses itself in every ray of light and heat. 
 
 Mrs Grey is lying upon a sofa just opposite the fire, 
 anu Jessie is nestled down upon the hearth-stone, at 
 her father's feet, looking into the fire, while she sings 
 softly to her&elf. Willie stands at the window watch- 
 
 46 
 
IN THE FIRELIGHT. 
 
 ing the fast falling snow, and thinking sorrowfully of 
 the little grave that it falls upon for the first time. 
 
 There is no sound in the room but the crackling of 
 the fire ; and the low, half-audible chanting upon the 
 hearth. i 
 
 " Sing something aloud, Jessie," says her mother, 
 " sing The Land o' tliQ Leal, I have not heard it for 
 a long, long time." 
 
 Mr Grey's face is buried in his hands as the clear, 
 child-like tones rise in the sweet air and words of the 
 old ballad : 
 
 " I 'm wearin' awa', Jean, Like snaw-wreaths in thavr, Jean ; 
 I 'm wearin' awa', To the land o' the leal. 
 There 's nae sorrow there Jean, There 's neither cauld nor care, 
 Jean, 
 The day is aye fair, In the land o' the leal. 
 
 " Ye 've been leal and true, Jean, Your task is ended now, Jean, 
 And I '11 welcome you, To the land o' the leal. 
 Our bonnie bairn's there, Jean, She was baith guid and fair, 
 
 Jean, 
 But, ah ! we grudged her sair, To the land o' the leaL 
 
 " Sorrow sel' wears past, Jean, And joy is comin' fast, Jean, 
 Joy that 's aye to last, In the land o' the leal. 
 Then dry that glistnin' e'e, Jean, My soul langs to be free, 
 
 Jean, 
 And angels wait on me, To the land o' the leal. 
 
 " A' our friends are gane, Jean, Wo 've lang been left alane, Jean, 
 We '11 a' meet again, In the land o' the leal. 
 Now, fare ye weel, my ain Jean, This world's care is vain, Jean, 
 We '11 meet and aye be fair. In the land o' the leal." 
 
 47 
 
IN THE FIRELIGHT. 
 
 Her voice falters a little at the second verse, and 
 Willie, breaking away from his sad thoughts at the 
 window, comes to his mother's side, and hiding his face 
 upon her pillow, sobs long and bitterly. She tries 
 vainly to soothe the passionate outburst ; the sorrow- 
 ful mind-picturing in the snow has heaped up such a 
 heavy burden of grief, that it cannot be easily quieted 
 or dispelled. 
 
 Jessie leaves the fire when she has finished her song, 
 and comes to the side of her brother ; keeping back the 
 tears, that strong sympathy with his feelings has brought 
 to her eyes. She whispers to him that " Mamma's head 
 has been very bad to-day," and with a great effort, the 
 poor boy restrains the sobs that stiU rise from his full 
 heart, and rests quietly withip the loving arms that would 
 so willingly shield him from all sorrow and evil. 
 
 Ah ! little Willie, come while you may to that 
 comforting presence ; cling very closely to that loving 
 bosom ; for a darker shadow is gathering over your 
 home, and the light of your mother's love is quickly 
 passing away from you for ever. 
 
 Jessie still remains with her mother, after her papa 
 and Willie have gone to bed. 
 
 Her thoughtfulness has very much increased, since 
 
 that bitter conflict with self upon the night of Allie's 
 
 death ; and she has been a great comfort to them all, 
 
 in the lonely days since then. 
 
 48 
 
IN THE FIRELIGHT. 
 
 The beginning of the new year had been fixed upon 
 as the time for her starting away to school \ but as it 
 draws near, and her mother's strength does not return, 
 she has made up her mind to propose that it may bo 
 put off for some months. 
 
 There have been some severe battles with selfishness 
 before this decision was arrived at, for very few girls of 
 fifteen have stronger love for books and learning than 
 Jessie Grey. But love for her mother, and an earnest 
 desire to do right, are stronger than all else, and the 
 bright visions of school-life are resolutely driveu away. 
 
 She tells her mother what she has thought, as they 
 sit together before the fire. " You know, mamma, I can 
 keep on with my studies at home, and a few months will 
 not make very much difference. And then the summer 
 will be so much less lonely for you, and you will be 
 quite well by that time." 
 
 Mrs Grey's face is pressed closely upon the pillows, 
 and for some moments she does not reply to the loving 
 suggestion of her daughter. 
 
 When she speaks at last, Jessie wonders to find that 
 she has been crying, and that something is still deeply 
 agitating her. "What is it, mammal" she exclaims; 
 ** do you think it better that I should go % or has all 
 this talking to-night made you feel worse ? " 
 
 Mrs Grey draws the slight form of her daughter very 
 
 close to her, as she ask;; in a low, broken voice, ** Have 
 
 49 G 
 
IN THE FIRELIGHT. 
 
 yon ever thought, Jessie, that I may not get bettor 1 
 that strength and health may never come back to me ? " 
 
 A convulsive shudder and a bewildered look of sur- 
 prise and terror are the only answers ; and the low voice 
 goes on, ' You have been a great comfort to me, my little 
 daughter, through all these weary, sorrowful days ; the 
 sight and knowledge of your new-found trust and con- 
 fidence in God have helped very much to strengthen 
 mine. I hope your faith in Him would not fail you, if 
 He should see fit to take me from you — that you would 
 love and believe in Him still ! " 
 
 With a smothered cry of agony, Jessie throws herself 
 despairingly upon the sofa, as if she would never wish 
 to rise again. 
 
 She does not listen to her mother's voice, as she at- 
 tempts to comfort her. All light, and goodness, and 
 beauty seem to be shut out from her heart by the 
 sorrowful weight that is bearing her to the earth, and 
 there is nothing left but a dumb sense of pain. 
 
 The possihility of such a thing has never presented 
 itself ; she cannot think of it as possible now. It is 
 too dreadful to be true I She thought she had tasted 
 the very dregs of sorrow when Allie died ; but to be 
 deprived of her mother t to look forward to a future 
 without her, to live without the love and help and 
 guidance that have never failed her ! Oh ! she can- 
 not, cannot be reconciled to it ! 
 
 50 
 
IN THE FIRELIGHT, 
 
 <* My daughter ! my little Jessie ! try to remember 
 that it is only for a very little time ; try to think that 
 I am only going homo to my Father's house a little 
 before you. Leave the rest with God ; He will care 
 for you, and bring you, too, when your work is done. 
 Oh, my child ! may His love strengthen you ! May 
 He more than supply my place to you ! " 
 
 The tender voice is very faint, and a quick reproach 
 touches the heart of the sorrow-stricken girl She rise" 
 instantly, and summoning all her self-command, controls 
 the torrent of passion with which her heart is filled, 
 and assists her mother to prepare for bed. 
 
 *' Go to God with your trouble, my darling ! Do not 
 try to bear it alone, but leave it all with Him," whis- 
 pers her mother, as she kisses her good-night. 
 
 Jessie's heart is almost broken as she goes up to the 
 little room which she and Allie used to share— where 
 they were happy children together a few short months 
 ago! Joyousness and childhood are gone now, and 
 time is touching very heavily the heart that was so 
 light and careless. 
 
 She opens the Bible, which she has so often read 
 with her little sister, at one of their favourite chapters, 
 and tries to receive the proffered comfort from its holy 
 
 words. 
 
 But memories of the past, and the sad burden of the 
 present, are too strong ; she cannot see for the blinding 
 
 SI 
 
IN THE FIRELIGHT. 
 
 tears, that will not be kept back ; and leaning her head 
 upon the table, with the book clasped tightly in her 
 hands, she gives way to a fit of weeping that is utterly 
 hopeless and despairing. 
 
 It is quieted at last, and lifting her head, she unclasps 
 the Bible again. It opens at the twenty-fifth chapter 
 of Isaiah, and a faint pencil-mark drawn around the 
 eighth verse catches her eye : " He will swallow up 
 death in victory ; and the Lord God will wipe away 
 tears from off all faces ; and the rebuke of His people 
 shall He take away from off all the earth : for the Lord 
 hath spoken it." 
 
 She reads the precious promise over and over again, 
 the words sinking down into her heart, calming and 
 soothing the passionate pain she thought nothing could 
 ever quiet again. 
 
 Ah ! the same God who inspired the triumphant 
 words of the old prophet so many centuries ago, put 
 it into the heart of the little child to mark them ! 
 And the tiny hands, xulded over the peaceful breast, 
 in the distant graveyard, are, through them, pointing 
 her sister upwards to the glorious home and the loving 
 Father who " hath spoken " them. 
 
 They call back faith and trust to Jessie's sorely-tried 
 
 heart, and she goes to sleep repeating them, in confident 
 
 assurance that He who hath promised to *'wipe away 
 
 tears from off all faces" will care for and s^^engthen her. 
 
 52 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 " Friends, friends !— oh ! shall we meet 
 In a land of purer day, 
 Where lovely things and sweet 
 Pass not away ? " 
 
 — Mrs Hemans. 
 
 HE "winter days glide swiftly away, and 
 the anniversary of the one that pro- 
 claimed "good-will toward men" casts 
 its mantle of peace over the earth. 
 There are no " Merry Christmas " greetings 
 interchanged to-day by the quiet household at 
 Mr Grey's. They hear the glad song of the 
 angels, and receive thankfully in their hearts the 
 message of peace; but the dearest of their num- 
 ber is too near the borders of the spirit-land — 
 the surging of the river that lies between strikes 
 too heavily upon their ears— for thoughts of 
 
 merriment. 
 
 53 
 
THE HAPPY NEW-YEAR, 
 
 N"o severe pain indicates the approach of the dread - 
 visitant; there is no suflfering to contend with or 
 alleviate; there ia nothing to he done / . ■ 
 
 Day by day Mrs Grey's strength grows less, and the 
 bright hectic spot deepens upon the wasted cheek ; day 
 by day the loving watchers feel that she is farther from 
 their keeping — that earth is loosening its hold, and death 
 is drawing nearer. 
 
 Grandma Bernard has been sent for, and remains at 
 the farmhouse all the time, and one of Mrs Grey's 
 sisters is often with them, so that Jessie has very few 
 opportunities for talking alone with her mother. 
 
 Thp poor girl feels as if she were in a troubled, sor- 
 rowful dream, from which something must, by and by, 
 awaken and relieve her. She has not given way to a 
 passionate expression oi grief since the night when the 
 prospect of this great woe had first dawned upon her ; 
 it seems to have settled too deep for expression of any 
 kind, and her face wears a look of despondency that it ia 
 very sad to see upon one so young. 
 
 The verse that quieted her that night is ever in her 
 mind : "The Lord will wipe away tears from off all faces; 
 the Lord hath spoken it." " She cannot go against His 
 word," she repeats to herself again and again ; ** she 
 must not weep when He has said He would wipe - 
 away all tears." -^^^^^^^^.;"s^^^ x ;;r^^^ ■ 
 
 But it is a forced yielding to a necessity, not the 
 
 54 .:v. ■•:■.'-,:.-■... v^: 
 
7HE HAPPY NEW-YEAR. 
 
 cheerful submission God requires. She sees no love in 
 the Hand that strikes the blow, and accepts it only 
 because it must 6e— because there is no alternative- 
 while her heart rises in bitter rebellion. 
 
 "Willie has been told, but he will not believe ; he 
 
 ■ declares that it is all a mistake, and that his mother wiU 
 
 be well again. " Why, Jessie, we could not do without 
 
 her ! " he exclaims ; *' God knows how much we need 
 
 her, and He will not take her from us ! " 
 
 And he persists in this belief, and will not be per- 
 suaded from it. Every day he hopes to find her better, . 
 and stiU drives away the fear that it may be possible 
 
 f fter all. 
 
 The Christmas-week passes away, and the last day 
 
 of the old year draws near its close. 
 
 A bed has been moved into the large sitting-room, 
 because of it size and cheerfulness ; and here we find 
 Jessie sitting beside her mother. 
 
 The last rays of the sun shine in through the west- 
 em windows, and brighten the room with almost sum- 
 mer radiance. 
 
 Mrs Grey watches the last bright lines sink beneath 
 the wintry horizon, and then, turning to her daughter, 
 she repeats a part of the glorious vision that was granted 
 to one of God's faithful seiTants, and by which many 
 of His children have expressed their foresight of the 
 heavenly city : " And there shaU be no night there ; 
 
 55 
 
THE HAPPY NEW-YEAk. 
 
 and they need no candle, neither light of the sun, for 
 the Lord God giveth them light ; and they shall reign 
 for ever and ever." 
 
 " My little Jessie ! this will comfort you when I am 
 gone. Kemember how happy I shall be. I ' shall see 
 His face.' I shall be with Him to whom you pray — 
 for ever at rest ! You will miss your mother drearily, 
 my child ; but let that draw you still nearer to the God 
 in whom she trusted. I would willingly stay with you ; 
 I would that my love might shield and direct you ; but 
 I know that * what He wills is best/ and can trust it all 
 to Him." 
 
 The long restraint that Jessie has placed upon her 
 feelings gives way, and with a despairing— « Oh ! 
 mamma, mamma ! I cannot let you go ! " the unnatural 
 calmness is broken up. ; • 
 
 She feels now that it has not been submission to 
 God, or trust in Him, that has upheld her ; but only 
 a determined resistance to sorrow, which she has built 
 upon the frequent repetition of that Scripture pas- 
 sage. Instead of saying, ** Not my will, but Thine, 
 be done ! " she has only recognized the impossibility 
 of the bitter cup being removed from her, with no 
 conviction of the infinite Love and Wisdom that pre- 
 pared it. . , 3 , . 
 
 " God has seemed so far away from me, mamma,"^ 
 she says, " I have felt as if I were shut out from His 
 
THE HAPPY NEW- YEAR. 
 
 presence ; and when I tried to pray, I could only re- 
 member that He was taking you from me." 
 
 " My poor child ! why have you not told me all this 
 before ? I thought, from your quiet face, that you had 
 found peace in entire resignation to God's will; and was 
 glad that you h' ,d been enabled to leave it all with Him." 
 
 " And I fancied, too, mamma, that I was resigned ; 
 but I have been so unhappy — I have not felt at all as 
 you do about it." > • 
 
 ** * He that loveth father or mother more than Me is 
 not worthy of Me,' " repeats Mrs Grey. " Have you 
 kept Him first in your heart, Jessie % Have you re- 
 membered the unbounded love, so much beyond mine, 
 that He feels for you— the love that has supplied all 
 the good gifts of your life — that has kept me with you 
 all these years, and is now ready to supply all your 
 need % There is nothing to be sorry for on my account. 
 * I hnow in whom I have believed,' and am glad to 
 hear His voice calling me home ! My own little Jessie ! 
 He who has been my strength will be yours. Can yoih 
 not trust Him, and give yourself unreservedly to His 
 keeping % " 
 
 There is silence in the darkening room for a few 
 
 moments; but the ear of the Omnipresent Father 
 
 hears the lowest cry of all who plead, through the 
 
 merits of His Son ; and He is " very pitiful " to His 
 
 sorrowing children on earth. 
 
 57 H 
 
THE HAPPY NEW 'YEAR. 
 
 A voice whispers peace to the troubled, girlish heart, 
 and doubt and fearfulness are dispelled. 
 
 " I do believe that He will care for me, mamma, and 
 will no longer grieve Him by selfish murmurings. I 
 do say *Thy will be done,' and trust in Him alto- 
 gether." ^ ^ ^ 
 Jessie's voice expresses a confident determination 
 and strength of purpose, that are new to its quiet 
 tones— a confidence that can manifest itself orly when 
 the love of God is felt in the heart. 
 
 Ah ! what would become of the innumerable hearts 
 that are every day made "heavy laden" by earth's 
 sorrows, if it were not for this "all-sufficient" Love 1 
 Well for suflfering humanity that there is something 
 more enduring than the strongest earthly refuge, 
 that there are everlasting arms beneath the protecting 
 ones that pass away, that death is powerless to re- 
 move. 
 
 Trusting in the strength of the crowned Con- 
 queror of the king of terrors, Jessie Grey feels that 
 she is able to bear even the loss of her mother's 
 
 love. 
 
 Tender, regretful thoughts come as often as before, 
 
 and many sad tears are shed as the first days of the 
 new year pass away ; but it is . rrow sanctified by 
 submission, and not " without hope." 
 
 Nearly three weeks are gone s^ace, in that quiet 
 
THE HAPPY NEW-YEAR. 
 
 evening-hour, Jessie unburdened her heart of its 
 weary load, and, guided by her mother's hand, 
 found the peace that is given to those who earnestly 
 and prayerfully come to God for help and deliver- 
 ance. ■'■•• • " '-■ .' *■■. ■■■■■' 
 
 It is the 19th of January. For several days Mrs 
 Grey's strength has lessened very rapidly, and now 
 the sad, unmistakable look that always comes over the 
 features as the end draws near is written very plainly 
 upon the sweet face. 
 
 No fear or doubt troubles her mind as she ap- 
 proaches " the valley of the shadow of death " He 
 to whom her life's work has been given, and in whose 
 name alone she has trusted, is with His children 
 " even unto the end \ " and she will not now distrust 
 the strength upon which she has relied for so many 
 years. ■ •- ■•■ '■■'^-■■■' - ■■ -■" - ■ :■- ■ • -r-, ^-: ■ ■^- 
 
 Life is fast retreating from the weakened frame, and 
 all day long there is the sound of hushed weeping in 
 the house, as friends and neighbours sorrowfully recog- 
 nise how close to the limits of that " other life " their 
 loved one has already passed. The hours of daylight 
 wear away, and, as the evening closes, consciousness 
 awakens, and in part drives away the heavy torpor 
 that weakness has imposed. 
 
 Jessie and Willie are standing together beside her 
 
 when she first rouses herself ; and as her eyes rest 
 
 59 
 
^ .' THE HAPPY NEW 'YEAR. 
 
 upon them, the tender ineflfable light of a mother's lovo 
 shines in their depths. 
 
 "I will be with you but a very little time, my 
 children," she says, quietly. " My Father has sent His 
 messenger to me, and I gladly obey the summons. The 
 Bting of death has been taken away, and I go to Hun 
 without a fear, knowing that *to die is gain,' for 
 them who die in the Lord! I expect to meet you 
 there by and by, when you have finished your course. 
 I believe that you will be enabled to keep the faith — 
 that you will strive earnestly to follow Him in whom 
 alone is fulness of joy. Never be turned aside from 
 this j never let anything stand between you and His 
 love, and He will keep you fiom the evil of the world, 
 and bring you to share in His glory." n ' . 
 
 It is only by painful eflfort, and many long pauses to 
 gain strength, that she has been able to speak these 
 words ; and her eyes close wearily again as voice and 
 memory fail, and sleep overpowers the eidiausted 
 faculties. 
 
 There is no sound in the room but the sobs of 
 Willie, and Jessie's more silent crying, until Mr Grey 
 comes round from the foot of the bed, and gently 
 drawing his boy within his arms, tries, by whis- 
 pered words of comfort to quiet his piteous weeping. 
 
 For long hours they watch the pure, white face; 
 Lhinking, many times, that the gentle breathing has 
 
':. ' THE HAPPY NEW 'YEAR. 
 
 ceased altogether, until again, by some slight movement, 
 life asserts its presence. 
 
 It is after midnight, and Willie, completely tired 
 out, is sleeping in his father's arms, when, in the last 
 struggle with death, mind and reason for a short time 
 resume their sway. 
 
 Grandma Bernard and Jessie have been chafing the 
 cold limbs, wrapping warm flannels about them, and 
 using all those despairing means by which we try to 
 keep the passing spirit a little longer in its earthly 
 home. She feels how hopeless her labour is ; but she 
 cannot bear the chiU that is creeping over her mother's 
 frame— that mother who has guarded and protected 
 her from every cold breath all her life long ! She 
 cannot bear to think that that mother is powerless in 
 the cold embrace of death ! 
 
 Mrs Grey opens her eyes, and smiles with perfect 
 consciousness upon her daughter ; and then, drawing 
 the sad, pale face close to her own, in a clear voice 
 she implores a blessing from on high to rest upon 
 and attend her child. " Keep her from evil, oh ! 
 my Father! Lead her in straight paths, and be 
 Thou her shield in every time of trouble, until her 
 life-journey is finished and immortality is gained," 
 is the prayer that is spoken over the bowed head 
 of the weeping girl. '' And now ^od-bye, my 
 
 daughter I Kiss me good-bye for the laso time, until 
 
 6i 
 
^ THE HAPPY NEW-YEAR. 
 
 I greet you in the land that is free from all care 
 and sorrow." 
 
 Jessie's lips are pressed again and again upon the 
 sweet face, from which death itself cannot remove the 
 seal of a mother's love; and then she moves quietly 
 away, in obedience to her father's touch, that Willie 
 may take her place. - 
 
 A solemn look of awe and inexpressible grief has 
 taken the place of the childish sorrow, with which he 
 had before approached his mother. She clasps him 
 in her arms, brushing back the clustering hair from the 
 fair brow with the old tender caress he will never 
 know again. "Promise me, my boy, that you will 
 meet me in heaven ; that you will, all your life, strive 
 earnestly for the home prepared for you by a Saviour's 
 love!" ,■-.<-,■-;-,,-.•:■■. ,.:.:•■.:.-. 
 
 There is no hesitation in either the face or voice that 
 answers, quietly, " I promise you, mamma ! I promise 
 you, by the help of God ! " Something of the more than 
 earthly strength by which his mother is supported seems 
 to have been imparted to the boy's nature, generally so 
 impulsive and free from all restraint. 
 
 He stops to kiss once more the white lips, parted by 
 
 shortening breath, and then joins his sister upon the 
 
 other side of the bed, while Mr Grey bends over to 
 
 listen to the last low tones of the voice that has made 
 
 music in his home for so many years. 
 
 62 
 
THE HAPPY NEW-YEAR. 
 
 She repeats her assurance that "all is well," both 
 for her and them, and whispers her gratitude that the 
 passage of the dark river has been made so easy to her 
 
 feet. 
 
 And then a smile that no earthly joy could waken 
 brightens the pure face — a smile that does not alto- 
 gether fade away when the spirit has passed to the full 
 realization of that happiness whose glorious dawning 
 
 animated it. ' • - 
 
 The first faint beams of morning light are heralding 
 the birth of another day, as the knowledge comes to 
 Jessie and Willie Grey that all that speaks of life in 
 the mortal frame has for ever departed from the motion- 
 less form before them — the sad, sad knowledge that 
 they are motherless ! 
 
 Jessie — remembering a charge given in one of the 
 last conversations with her, that she must try to supply 
 her loss to her papa and Willie, and, as far as possible, 
 fill the place that she was leaving — leads her brother to 
 her own, quiet little room, where, weary with the long 
 night-watching, his sorrow is soon forgotten in the 
 dreamless sleep of boyhood. 
 
 Finding that her papa is lying down in his oTvn room, 
 she obeys the advice of many kind voices, thac bid her 
 try to get some rest and sleep herself. Poor child ! her 
 pale, patient face looks as if she sadly needed them 
 both! 
 
• THE HAPPY NEW -YEAR, 
 
 We need not recount the events of the next few 
 days ;— the coming and going of sympathising friends ; 
 the performing of the last sad offices to the dead ; the 
 watching beside the shrouded figure, that seems less a 
 part of the one we have loved in life, than a shadowy 
 image, bearing a partial and undefined resemblance to 
 the lost ; the strange mingling of bustle and quiet ; and, 
 at last, the closing of the coffin-Ud upon what has been 
 a mother s face, ar d the resigning of all that it contains 
 to the frozen snoT -covered earth. 
 
 Ah ! if it were not for the hope of immortality— if it 
 were not for the Sun of Eighteousness, that shines 
 through and over the cypress trees we plant about 
 their graves— what would sustain us in these trials? 
 what would comfort us for the loss of our departed 
 
 friends 1 
 
 « But thanks be to God, which giveth us the victory, 
 
 through our Lord Jesus Christ 1" 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 ** I know thy burden, child. I shaped it. . . . 
 For even as I laid it on, I said, 
 I shall be near, and while she leans on me 
 This burden shall be mine, not hers : 
 So shall I keep my child within the circling arms 
 Of my own love." 
 
 HE winter snow has lain heavily upon the 
 
 new-made graves in the old burying- 
 
 ^ M ground upon the St Lawrence shore, and 
 
 f^ the blustering March wind is beginning to 
 
 drift it from hill-tops and unprotected plains to 
 
 sheltered nooks beyond its farther reach, when 
 
 )\ we again visit the home of Jessie Grey. 
 
 Their old French friend is still with them, 
 
 and a Western cousin of Jessie's, but a few years 
 
 older than she is, has 'been a visitor for several 
 
 weeks. But there is a vacancy that no other can 
 
 fiU, and though time has somewhat accustomed 
 
 them to their loss, they feel it as keenly as at t ""' 
 
 6s 1 
 
V GOING AWAY. 
 
 All thought of self and selfish sorrow seems to have 
 been banished from Jessie's mind, and she has kept far 
 better than she has any idea of the sacred charge given 
 by her mother to supply her place. 
 
 The discipline of suffering through which she has 
 passed is yielding plentiful fruit in that " patir ' con- 
 tinuance in well-doing," which is the best attribute and 
 ornament of true womanly character. 
 
 Only God is witness of the conflict that is never 
 quieted between the yearning, loving heart of the child, 
 and the faithful discharge of daily duties. Only His 
 grace could enable her to maintain that apparent calm- 
 ness, and even cheerfulness, which so effectually covers 
 the never-forgotten wanty that only a motherless girl 
 can feel. 
 
 Information has been received from Mr Grey's rela- 
 tives in Scotland, which makes it very desirable that 
 he should visit that country ; and he has determined 
 to start by the last of April or first of May. 
 
 The charge of the farm and homestead has been 
 given to a trustworthy neighbour, who is to inhabit 
 the house during his absence ; and Jessie and Willie 
 are to accompany their cousin to her Western home, 
 to recommence at a school the studies so long inter- 
 rupted. 
 
 They cannot jear to leave the dear old farm that 
 
 has been home to them all their lives. Willie wanders 
 
 66 
 
GOING A WA Y. 
 
 through the woods when " sugar -making " season 
 begins, as if each maple-tree demanded a separate and 
 special farewell; while it seemed to Jessie as if the 
 last pleasant association of childhood was being taken 
 
 from her. 
 
 It is well for her that there is much to be done in 
 making preparations lor their long absence ; for the 
 necessity of action alone could, draw mind and memory 
 from long '' backward glances," almost fatal to her self- 
 control. 
 
 This necessity is developing and strengthening that 
 energy, without which any character— whether manly 
 or womanly— is imperfeci, and the loss of which 
 renders the greater part of humanity comparatively 
 
 useless, 
 
 April showers have washed away the last soiled 
 remnants of snow, and fields of fall-wheat are beginning 
 to look green and bright in the spring sunshine, before 
 their preparations are all completed. 
 
 Mr Grey is to accompany them to Toronto, and see 
 them settled in their new home before he proceeds 
 upon his long journey; and they are to start away in 
 less than a week. Willie has persuaded Jessie to go 
 with him to the school-house, to say good-bye to the 
 teacher and familiar class-mates he is leaving for strange 
 
 ones far away. 
 
 It is early in the afternoon as they start upon the 
 
 67 -'^ 
 
GOING AWAY. 
 
 ■walk they have so often taken together. Their hearts 
 are full of the past, of memories of the little sister who 
 used to be their companion, and of the sad day when 
 she went from them for ever. > 
 
 They come to the ridge, and Willie is hurrying past 
 the spot, so strongly and painfully connected with his 
 first great sorrow, when Jessie gently detains him, and 
 they stand silently picturing to themselves the scene 
 enacted there. 
 
 At first they look only at the water, so black and 
 still in the shadow of the high bank, so strong and 
 restless in its cruel depths, and have no thought of 
 anything beyond. Willie is still sadly rehearsing the 
 events of that October evening, when Jessie's voice 
 calls him back to the present and brighter thoughts, 
 ** What a view of the grand old tivcr we get from here ! 
 I think the islands look better than from any other 
 place ; and I mean to fix them in my mental picture- 
 gallery, so that I may see them at will, though I am 
 two hundred miles away ! " She speaks so cheerfully, 
 almost gaily, that her brother does not dream of the 
 effort by which, for his sake, that cheerfulness is 
 assumed, as he raises his eyes tu fake in the whole 
 breadth of the majestic river, and its varied beauties. 
 
 As he does so, there comes before him a vision of a 
 
 bright summer morning, and a sweet, childish form 
 
 standing beside him 3n this same elevation, looking with 
 
 68 
 
GOING AWAY. 
 
 wistful earnestness at the lovely landscape, and he hears 
 again the gentle tones of the voice saying, dreamily, 
 « It makes me think of the ' pure river of the water of 
 life ! ' " Can he be sad when he believes that she is 
 walking upon the banks of that crystal river 1 Ought 
 he to grieve that she has entered the home she so 
 loved to think about when here 1 Ah, no 1 he will not 
 wish her back; but will be g]ad that she has escaped 
 the evil, and will never feel the " chilling winds," of 
 
 earthly sorrows ! 
 
 Made hopeful by the thought of that land, and 
 rejoicing that their treasure is there in the keeping 
 of the same omniscient Father who is leading them, 
 they resume their walk, sorrowing " not, even as others 
 which have no hope." 
 
 They go quietly on, along the river shore, past the 
 great " corner rock," and enter the woods, before either 
 is ready to break the not unpleasant self-communing 
 ca,u8ed by the objects around them and their inseparable 
 
 associations. 
 
 The opening buds of the trees are beginnins to show 
 a faint tinge of green, and " spring's first warblers " 
 are already twittering from the gray branches, as they 
 select the airy sites of their summer homes. And 
 there, close to the trunk of a great old elm, Jessie 
 - spies a wee, modest flower, and stooping to gather it, 
 finds that there are countless clusters beneath the light 
 
 69 
 
GOING AWAY. 
 
 covering of last year's faded leaves ! Every sorrowful 
 thought is cast off for a time in the pure and entire 
 pleasure of finding and admiring the tiny blossoms* A 
 pleasure, simple as it is, that many an older and graver 
 heart than theirs has equally shared, and been made 
 forgetful by. 
 
 The first flowers of the spring-time ! The old childish 
 joyousness comes back as we search for the hidden tufts, 
 as we brush away the leaves and twigs from their stems 
 with all the old eagerness, and compare the delicate 
 shades of blue and pink and violet, with all the old 
 enthusiasm. 
 
 Ah ! sweet May-flowers ! your pure petals have be- 
 guiled many a heart-sick one to the fairyland of child- 
 hood, and brought forgetfulness of the many weary 
 seasons that have come between its careless gaiety and 
 the burden of to-day ! Ye are ministering spirits, 
 messengers of Him who "clothes the grass of the 
 field," and are sent by Him to repeat to human hearts 
 His lesson of faith — " Shall He not much more clothe 
 you?" 
 
 But we must not leave our little friends too long, 
 even in the pure companionship of the flowers ; for the 
 afternoon is wearing away, and the school-house is still 
 to be reached. 
 
 There is more of the old brightness in Willie's face 
 
 than has visited it for many long weeks; and a quiet 
 
 70 
 
GOING A WA Y. 
 
 gladness and lightness of spirit that have taken pos- 
 session of his sister, show that the voiceless preachers 
 have well fulfilled their mission. 
 
 They find school just dismissed, and stand upon the 
 smooth rock before the door, while they exchange 
 kindly greetings and farewells with the boys and girls 
 with whom they ar« acquainted. 
 
 The hearty sympathy of their old friends, and the 
 evident sorrow they feel at parting with them, bring 
 back the painful sense of separation that is so hard to 
 bear ; and when the last hand has been shaken, and the 
 last caress received, they enter the school-house, feeling 
 as if they were breaking off every tie that binds them 
 to the old home and life. 
 
 The warm and affectionate reception they receive from 
 Miss Mills is mingled with just enough of pity and 
 sympathy to prove too much for Willie's already over- 
 burdened he rt ; and leaning his head upon his own old 
 desk; while memory brings to mind all the sad changes 
 since she was first his teacher, both past and present 
 sorrows are expressed in an uncontrollable burst of 
 
 tears. 
 
 After a few tender words, that show her appreciation 
 and regard for his feelings, Miss Mills, judging that he 
 will be able to quiet himself best if left alone, turns 
 to Jessie. She is struggling hard to reta'n the outward 
 composure that has become habitual to her ; but the 
 
 n -_ 
 
GOING AWAY. 
 
 tearful face that meets hers, and the gentle whisper, 
 " I know what it is, dear Jessie ; my mother is dead, 
 and I have left my own old home, never to see -t again !" 
 touch too nearly the quivering heart-strings, and with 
 no thought or power of self-control, she throws herself 
 into the arms so lovingly extended. 
 
 For a few moments their tears flow in an u'sr 
 abandonment of sorrow, and Jessie's heart lightens 
 itself for the first time, in the embrace of one who 
 understands and entirely sympathises with her feel- 
 ings. 
 
 Miss Mills is the first to regain composure, and in a 
 little while her quiet tones, so full of confidence and 
 heartfelt trust in the One of whom they speak, calm 
 and soothe the weeping children, and bring back to their 
 minds the glorious hope of reunion with the loved ones 
 "gone before." She leads them insensibly from the 
 sad thoughts of leaving their home to the pleasures 
 and enjoyments of school-life — the many new friends 
 they will find, and the new duties and obligations that 
 will rest upon them. Many a word of kindly advice 
 and direction is mingled with the cheerful surmises 
 and fancies by which she accomplishes her purpose of 
 lessening their grief at going away, 
 
 She accompanies them a part of the way home, and 
 leaves them, at last, more hopeful fv)r the future, and 
 with kindlier thoughts of its changes, than they could 
 .,._.__ _.__ __ 72 . 
 
GOING A WA V. 
 
 have believed possible a few hours before. Thoy have 
 both promised to correspond with her, and she has 
 engaged to keep them informed of all that goes on at 
 the old farm and neighbourhood in their absence. 
 " Write to me as freely as if I were a sister," she has 
 said to Jessie, " and I promise to do all in my power to 
 help and guide you. I am sure you will remember the 
 one best Friend, whom alone we may depend upon at 
 all times ; and depending upon Him, the world is power- 
 less against us ! " 
 
 The gathering shades of evening warn them to 
 quicken their steps, as they come out of the woods 
 to the river-path ; an'' the end of their brisk walk 
 finds them prepared to sit down to the waiting tea-table 
 with brighter faces and more cheerful talk than has 
 enlivened it for a long time. 
 
 Tlieir wild-flowers are placed in a great soup-plate, 
 the edges of which are covered with sprays of evergreen 
 from the garden; and the evident delight of the 
 children in arranging and admiring their addition 
 to the table attracts even Mr Grey from his usual 
 gravity. Miss Mills was telling them of the wee 
 English daisies of her old home, as they walked 
 through the woods ; and from them they go to their 
 favourite wild-flowers — and violets, and columhineSf and 
 honeysuckles^ and maiden^ s-hair, and a dozen otherp, are 
 discussed with great animation. Mr Grey tells '.hem 
 
 73 ^ 
 
GOING AWAY. 
 
 of the Scottish gowan, of which he h£id often heard his 
 father speak, and recites Burns's poem To a Mountain 
 Daisy for them. They go to bed at last, having re- 
 ceived in their hearts the sermon of the flowers— and 
 having accepted the belief that the same Power that 
 causes them to break forth from their wintry graves at 
 the coming of the spring, will also quicken and bring 
 to a glorious resurrection the bodies of those who sleep 
 in Jesus, and will care, too, for them upon the earth, 
 who put their trust in Him. ' 
 
 The few days that come between this and their last 
 at home are quickly gone. They have visited and said 
 good-bye to the graves in the lonely graveyard ; they 
 have taken a farewell look at the old house ; and have 
 grasped the last friendly hand of all but their own home- 
 friends, the day before. And now, in the early morn- 
 ing, they meet together in the dear old room, so full 
 of memories nd associations, and bow for a parting 
 blessing, to attend them in their wandering. 
 
 There are tearful eyes and aching hearts about the 
 nice breakfast- table, at which appetites are sadly ne- 
 glectful ; and then the carriage is at the door that ia 
 to convey them to the station. 
 
 Jessie runs up to her own little room, and there 
 sinking upon her knees, repeats her mother's last 
 prayer for her-—" That she may be kept from the evil of 
 the world ; and that God will be her guide through 
 
 74 
 
GOING AWAY. 
 
 all the paths of life ! " And then she comes down with 
 a quiet face, to get through the last sorrowful leave- 
 takings. 
 
 It is hardest of all to part from Grandma Bernard ! 
 She has known and loved them since their infancy, and 
 they cannot hope to meet her again upon the earth. 
 " May thy mother's God watch over you, my precious 
 child ! May He keep you ' unspotted from the world,' 
 for the sake of His own Son ! " is whispered by the 
 faltering lips of the old woman, as she clasps Jessie 
 in her arms. 
 
 She breaks away at last, and is seated by the side of 
 her brother ; to be quickly borne out of sight of the 
 white walls of her home, and the watching group 
 before the door. The familiar grounds are passed 
 over, and all the well-known objects have disappeared. 
 There is no interest for them in the strange houses and 
 people upon the roadsides now ; and they sit in perfect 
 quiet until the station is reached. They are soon 
 seated in the cars, to be swiftly carried away in the 
 direction of their new home. 
 
 The novelty of their surroundings, and the many 
 strange faces and scenes around them, quickly attract 
 their minds from sorrowful remembrances ; and by and 
 by the going away does not seem such an absolute 
 evil after all. 
 
 They are hurried on, past towns and across bridges, 
 
 7S ^ 
 
GOING A WA Y. 
 
 through deep-cut passages in the rocks ; and over high 
 banks, from which they look down upon the surround- 
 ing country as upon a map spread at their feet. 
 
 Each and all of these varied scenes equally delight 
 Willie, and afford subjects for unbounded wonder and 
 satisfaction. He applies to his father for information 
 on a great variety of questions, and becomes more im- 
 pressed, with each answer, by the number of things he 
 has yet to learn, and the necessity of study in order to 
 understand the commonest things about us. 
 
 At Kingston Mills they take a last look at the St 
 Lawrence — their "own old river, they will not see 
 again for so long a time ! " Willie exclaims sorrowfully. 
 But his father points out the locks of the Rideau Canal, 
 and describes its course, from the opposite window ; 
 and by the time it is talked over, the blue waters are 
 lost sight of, and with them his momentary sadness. 
 
 Jessie's more thoughtful mind is not so easily made 
 forgetful. Though sometimes diverted for a few mo- 
 ments by the conversation of her papa and brother or 
 some passing object, it returns very often to the home 
 she has left, and makes many an imaginary voyage 
 into the opening future. 
 
 The memory of the prayers offered for her in that 
 home gladdens her heart as she sits apparently inter- 
 ested in the scenery along the way; and unalloyed 
 
 confidence in the One to whom they have been offered 
 
 76 
 
GOING A WA y. 
 
 drives away all doubt and fearf ulness. Her heart fixes 
 itself upon a favourite verse cf her mother's : " We know 
 that all things work together for good to them that 
 love God ; " and she rests in trustful faith, confident in 
 her love for Him who "Jirst loved us." 
 
 On dashes the Ureless steam-engine through field 
 and village, and wood and plain, bearing its heavily- 
 freighted train of cars, in the pride of its matchless 
 power ! On and away from their home, it carries 
 Jessie find Willie Grey along the northern shore of 
 blue Ontaiio, until, late in the afternoon, they enter the 
 loyal old county, York. 
 
 They are all tired enough to welcome the first glimpse 
 of the waters of the bay, and the houses and spires of 
 the Queen City as they come in sight. Even Willie is 
 quite satisfied to know that his day's journey is at an 
 end, and ready to appreciate the cheerful hospitality 
 that greets him in entering his new-found home in 
 Toronto. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 fife in i\iz i^to fonte. 
 
 " Early hath Life's solemn question 
 
 Thrilled within thy heart of youth. 
 
 With a deep and strong beseeching — 
 
 What and where is Trui/i f " 
 
 — Whittier. 
 
 Y the third week of May, Jessie and 
 Wniie have commenced their school- 
 work in real earnest, and are beginning to 
 feel quite at home in their new surroundings. 
 
 Mr Grey remained with them as long as it 
 was possible, and left them at last, as far as his 
 exertions could accomplish, provided with every- 
 thing to make them contented and happy. 
 
 His eldest sister, Mrs Burns, with whom the 
 children are to live during his absence, promises 
 to be a kind and affectionate guardian to the 
 loving niece and warm-hearted, impulsive nephew 
 committed to her care. 
 
LIFE IN THE NEW HOME. 
 
 They are already much attached to " Aunt Margaret," 
 and all doubts of happiness in their new home are * 
 banished. They are, as yet, little acquainted with their 
 uncle, his business detaining him from home a great 
 part of the time ; and the cousin that was with them 
 so long at the East is the only other member of the 
 
 family. 
 
 They reside in one of the principal busmess localities 
 of the city, and Jessie and Willie find a never-failing 
 source of amusement in watching the throngs of people 
 who pass and repass in the crowded street. 
 
 Comfortably established in the wide seat of an upper 
 window, they look down upon the moving figures, study 
 the strange faces, and speculate upon the business that 
 calls them forth. Yery often a glimpse of the spark- 
 ling waters of the bay, from between two lofty buildings, 
 or beyond and above the roof of a humbler one, draws 
 them from all recollection of the busy street. Some- 
 times thought flies from it to the great ocean, upon 
 whose breast their dearest earthly friend is now being 
 borne ; and sometimes to the St Lawrence waters, that 
 roll so close to th. old home shores ! They can see the 
 sheen and gleaming of its waves in memory's faithful 
 picture ;— each curve and island, each grove and field 
 upon the shore, each far-away hill and hollow, fading 
 away into dim, hazy outline upon the opposite bank ; 
 and the hum of the noisy street comes to their ears 
 
 79 
 
LIFE IN THE NEW HOME. 
 
 like the old murmur of the waves that wash the shores, 
 ^ the old rippling song they loved to listen to through all 
 their childhood's years ! . 
 
 They sit together as the twilight deepens over the 
 great city, as footsteps become fewer, and sound more 
 distinct in the lessening bustle ; while memory brings 
 before then, the days gone by— the loved ones who are 
 no more, and the light-hearted joyousness that the pass- 
 ing away of these seems to have taken from them 
 for ever. But they turn to Him whose care is never 
 removed ; they feel His presence with them still, and 
 take courage for the coming days, sure that no evil can 
 prevail against them while they trust in Him. 
 
 And thus a mother's prayers are answered, as her 
 children repeat them in the quiet evening-time; for 
 the ear of the Lord is ever open to the voice of suppli- 
 caticn, and " they that wait upon Him shall renew their 
 
 stiength." 
 
 As the days pass on, school-duties press more heavily, 
 and there are fewer moments that can be spared for 
 watching the people in the street. The twilight, how- 
 ever, generally finds them at the window. Here they 
 recount the day's experiences, and sympathise with one 
 another in their respective trials or successes ; and here 
 is kept strong and entire the bond that should be found 
 ^ in every brother's heart — the pure and perfect bond of 
 
 a sister's love and sympathy ! ^ _^ ______ 
 
 80 
 
LIFE IN THE NEW HOME, 
 
 Letters have been received from Mr Grey, announcing 
 his safe arrival in Scotland, and describing his pleasure 
 at finding himself amid the scenes of his father's early- 
 life, in the dear old home to which that father's heart 
 had always so lovingly turned. 
 
 The account of his voyage awakens in Willie's mind 
 an ardent wish to become acquainted with " the mystery 
 of the sea." To Jessie is privately confided his intention 
 of not only visiting Scotland, but also of becoming a 
 great traveller and navigator, when once he has got 
 through with his school-days. 
 
 Bright, ambitious boyhood ! Many a hard blow and 
 bitter disappointment must come before its confidence 
 and hopefulness are altogether dispelled. Many a sober 
 lesson of reality c.nd experience must be learned before 
 its rainbow-coloured fancies and wonderful possibilities 
 are all relinquished. 
 
 Willie is naturally of a buoyant, sanguine disposition, 
 and though his extravagant dreaming has been checked, 
 in part, by the events of the last year ; there still re- 
 mains enough of the old spirit to build many a fair air- 
 castle, and paint many a brilliant picture of what shall 
 be in future years. 
 
 It is well that a veil conceals that mystic land of the 
 
 future ! It is well that coming events do not cast their 
 
 shadows before ! God mercifully keeps His children 
 
 in ignorance of what a day may bring forth. 
 
 8i L 
 
LIFE IN THE NEW HOME. 
 
 If it were not so, childhood and youth would bo 
 robbed of their greatest blessing, and hope would find 
 no real resting-place in any human heart. Ah ! let 
 the children keep their trust and faith in the brave 
 actions they dream of as theirs ! let them believe that 
 every fanciful plan will be worked out in the far-away 
 future years ! For the bitter waters of experience will 
 soon enough be reached, and the hand of time will 
 tear down the fair structures built by the imagination 
 
 of a child. 
 
 Jessie and Willie are well pleased with their respec- 
 tive teachers. It was thought best by her papa and 
 auntie to place Jessie at a school where attendance 
 would only be required a few hours of the day, as 
 too much confinement might affect her already delicate 
 
 health. 
 
 Her classmates at Madam R 's soon learn to love 
 
 the gentle, brown-eyed girl, who moves about so quietly 
 in her deep mourning dress, and who is always so ready 
 to assist and oblige ; while Madam herself is charmed 
 by the evident delight she takes in learning and cor- 
 rectly reciting her lessons. ^ - ' 
 
 It is too bad, but it must be acknowledged to be a 
 fact, that a studious, thoughtful school-girl is something 
 of a rarity in many other establishments than this. 
 Why should it be so, girls 1 Why should you care- 
 lessly let slip the opportunity for securing that " good 
 
 82 
 
LIFE IN THE NEW HOME. 
 
 tiling, education % " Witli it and that " one tiling need- 
 ful," the blessing of God, your happiness and content- 
 ment are in your own keeping. No matter where 
 circumstances may place you, enjoyment may be found, 
 if only the key of knowledge be yours to open the 
 gates of your surroundings. 
 
 Forest and plain, river and quarry, city and country, 
 are alike full of eloquent teachings to those who are 
 capable of understanding them. And thanks to our 
 noble school-system, every Canadian girl may sec are 
 this capacity. Be in earnest, school-girls. Take home 
 to your hearts the homely adage of your grandmothers, 
 ** Whatever is worth doing at all, is worth doing well." 
 And by making it the motto of your school-life it will 
 become the rule of all the after-time, until God says, 
 
 «« Well done." 
 
 Willie Grey finds himself in a very different position, 
 at first, from that which he had occupied in the old 
 Eock school-house at home. There, of late, and espe- 
 cially in the summer months, he had been one of the 
 head boys of the school ; while here he finds himself 
 among the youngest and least advanced pupils. Steady 
 perseverance and industry, however, accpmplish great 
 things, and soon he is as much a favourite with teachers 
 and classmates as ever in the far-away district-school. 
 Toronto life, in reality, is a very different thing from 
 
 the dismal, home-sick existence he hud J^ictured while 
 
 83 ^,:'-- ::-■■:; --■^•^- 
 
LIFE IN THE NEW HOME. 
 
 walking about tlio old farm two months ago ; and he 
 enters heartily into the duties and enjoyments of 
 the present, all the more heartily, perhaps, because 
 of their contrast to what he had imagined about 
 them. 
 
 The summer vacation soon begins. Mr Burns sur- 
 prises and delights them by proposing that it shall be 
 spent at Niagara Falls. 
 
 Willie is almost wild with joy when he first hears of 
 the plan, and Jessie's pale face lights up with a very 
 pleased expression as her aunt and cousin describe the 
 nice, quiet farm-house at which they have twice before 
 boarded through the hot summer months. 
 
 They tell her, laughingly, that her preference for the 
 St Lawrence will all be gone when she has visited 
 Niagara ; but she is quite sure that nothing can rival, 
 or even be compared in beauty, with its well-known 
 and well loved shores, and that not even Niagara's 
 grandeur will make her declare against it. - 
 
 *' I hope you will like it well enough to get some 
 colour from its breezes for these white cheeks," says 
 her uncle ; " though, if you are ungrateful enough to be 
 thinking of those eastern waters all the time you look 
 at it, we can hardly expect it to forgive the slight to 
 its superiority ! " ;';.<. 
 
 Jessie smilingly assures him that there is room in her 
 
 heart for other scenes and other persons, though those of 
 
 84 
 
LIFE IN THE NEW HOME. 
 
 of the old Lome are remembsred, and kept in the warmest 
 place. ' , 
 
 Mr Burns has taken a great fancy to his little niece, 
 and it is principally upon her account that the visit to 
 the Falls has been thought of and proposed. 
 
 He is to accompany them to their boarding-house, 
 which has already been secured by letter, and then 
 return to his business until the week before the re-open- 
 ing of school. 
 
 They are to travel in their own conveyance, so that 
 they may drive about the country at their pleasure 
 during their long stay ; and Willie takes great pride in 
 convincing his uncle that he is quite an accomplished 
 driver and manager of horses. 
 
 School closes upon the 3rd of July, and the early 
 morning of the 4th finds them in all the bustle and 
 excitement of starting. The first faint dawn of light is 
 stealing over the sleeping city as they drive through the 
 last street and .nter the open country, and by the time 
 the sun's rays begin to grow uncomfortably warm, they 
 have reached the little village in which they are to re- 
 main through the heat of the day. It is about midway 
 between Toronto and Hamilton ; and another pleasant 
 drive in the cool evening hours brings them to the last- 
 named city. 
 
 In the afternoon of the next day, they arrive at 
 Beechwood farm, which is to be their home foff the two 
 
 85 
 
LIFE IN THE NEW HOME, 
 
 following months. Its owner is an old and valued 
 friend of Mr Grey, and everything has been prepared 
 that the kind-hearted farmer's wife could think of to 
 add to the pleasure of his children. 
 
 Jessie and Willie are delighted when they find that 
 their host and hostess have known their papa, and listen 
 ■with unbounded pleasure to their reminiscences of long- 
 ago days, in which his name very often occurs. 
 
 Leaving them thus pleasantly situated, Mr Burns re- 
 turns to the city, having made Willie's heart glad by 
 giving the carriage and horses into his care. 
 
 Then follow such delightful, care-free days! such 
 walks, and drives and charming little picnics as are 
 planned by Aunt Margaret ! Oh ! it is the very perfec- 
 tion of idle, pleasure-taking life ! Jessie's cheeks are not 
 ungrateful enough to withstand the combined influence 
 of the free, pure air and abundant exercise, but regain 
 the brightness lost so many months ago. 
 
 Letters come regularly from beyond the sea, so that 
 there is no need of anxiety as far as their papa is con- 
 cerned, and they hear from the dear old farm very fre- 
 quently. There is nothing to prevent a thorough 
 enjoyment of all the pleasures provided for them, and 
 they have no intention of borrowing troubles for that 
 
 purpose ! 
 
 Beechwood farm is about three miles from the Falls, 
 
 and their first visit is, of course, made there. 
 
 86 
 
LIFE IN THE NEW HOME, 
 
 ** It is no wonder," Jessie tliinks, as she stands, look- 
 ing at the mighty torrent, " that St John compared the 
 voice of God to the noise of many waters." The terrible 
 and solemn grandeur of the scene before her brings to 
 her mind more forcibly than anything else has ever done 
 the greatness and majesty of Him whose " spirit moved 
 upon the face of the waters," whose word divided them, 
 and " created the heavens and the earth ! " 
 
 She thinks, with grateful remembrance, that the 
 same Spirit has visited her humble, child-like heart, 
 that the same Voice has called her child. Even now, 
 in the roar of the cataract, she hears Him whisper 
 " It is I ; be not afraid." 
 
 Willie climbs from one point of observation to 
 another, all eagerness and excitement, and is dis- 
 appointed and half-impatient with his sister's few quiet 
 words of admii-ation. "I didn't dream it was half so 
 grand ! " he exclaims. *' Why, Jessie, how can you stand 
 BO quietly ?" and away he bounds to look through the 
 Bpray from a lower spot. ; • ; - 
 
 Jessie's flushed cheeks and tearful eyes reveal a 
 depth of feeling stronger by far than any loudly ex- 
 pressed admiration. Mrs Burns, seeing them, is quite 
 satisfied with her niece's appreciation of the sublime 
 picture. But she does not understand the feeling that 
 causes her tears; she does not know that Jessie is 
 looking upon it, not as a grand master-piece of nature, 
 
 87 
 
LIFE IN THE NEW HOME. 
 
 but as a new revelation of the majesty and power of 
 Eim who created it ; of Him who humbled Himself 
 and became obedient even to the death of the cross; 
 of Him who "became a Man of Sorrows and acquamted 
 with grief" for the sins of the world ; of Him who is 
 now interceding for those for whom He died ! Oh ! 
 she realises the greatness of the sacrifice that was 
 offered for her, and consecrates herself anew to follow 
 His footsteps in the « narrow way which leadeth unto 
 
 life." • , ,^ 
 
 " From nature up to nature's God !" This should 
 
 be the impulse of every Christian heart ; and only when 
 
 this direction is gained can nature be fully appreciated 
 
 and enjoyed. 
 
 They come to the Falls very often during the sum- 
 mer, until almost every rock, and shrub, and form of 
 spray is grown familiar ; but in each visit, the first 
 lesson repeats itself to Jessie's fancy, and the same 
 feeling comes back as if she were standing very near 
 the holy ground of Clod's presence ! 
 
 Another favourite drive, almost rivalling the Falls 
 in Willie's estimation, is that to Queenston Heights. 
 
 Again and again he walks over the battle-groimd ; 
 climbs the hills, and standing by the spot where our 
 Upper Canada hero fell, pictures to himself the oft- 
 repeated story of the fight. He takes great delight in 
 remembering that his grandfather was one of those 
 
 88 
 
GENERAL BKOCk'S MONUMENT— QUEENSTON HEIGHTS. 
 
 "Again and again he walks over the battle-ground; climbs the hills, 
 and standing by the spot where our Upper Canada hero fell, pictures to 
 himsc'f the oft-repet. ed story of the fight." — Page 88. 
 
;*r 
 
LIFE IN THE NEW HOME. 
 
 "brave York Volunteers," to whom the last words of 
 General Brock were addressed ; and his aunt is called 
 upon very often for repetitions of all that she had heard 
 her father tell of his soldier-Ufe and gallant soldier- 
 leader. •;-. :< ■.■'„ 
 
 But with all these pleasures time keeps moving 
 steadily on, and the last week of vacation comes, bring- 
 ing Mr Burns to take them back to the city. He pro- 
 fesses himself to be quite satisfied with the eflfect of 
 country air upon their health, and expresses some fears 
 that so long a time of idleness will make distasteful 
 the return to study and work. 
 
 Hurried farewell visits are made to all the favourite 
 resorts, and then their kind country friends are parted 
 with, and the visit to Niagara is over. 
 
 They Etay a day in Hamilton, and the places of in- 
 terest in and about this fine Canadian city are visited 
 and admired by Jessie and Willie, with their uncle as 
 guide, while their aunt and cousin are calling upon 
 some friends and acquaintances. 
 
 The next day they reach Toronto, where, in spite of 
 all the pleasure and idleness left behind, they welcome 
 the sight of the familiar house and street, and each 
 agree to the declaration of Mrs Burns, that it is good 
 to be at home again, and she is glad to be there. 
 
 Willie settles himself next morning to write a long 
 account of their vocation rambles for his papa, and 
 
 89 M 
 
LIFE IN THE NEW HOME. 
 
 Jessie alternately assists his memory and her auntie, 
 ■who is beginning to put in order the rooms of the house, 
 that have been so long unused. 
 
 A letter is received from Miss Mills, telling them of 
 the final sickness and death of Grandma Bernard. 
 Many sorrowful recollections are awakened by the 
 news, but their kind friend has so thoughtfully and 
 skilfully reminded them of the release that their dear, 
 old nurse has gained, and has mingled so many cheer- 
 ful items in her sorrow-bearing pages, that they cannot 
 encourage selfish sorrow with these before them. 
 
 "We have another friend in heaven, Willie, and that 
 need not make us sad," says Jessie. " I am sure that is 
 the way Miss Mills wants us to look at it; and the same 
 love that look those who are gone from us will provide 
 more when we need them." 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 . g^ Maxli in Sfjcasmr. 
 
 " Follow with reverent steps the great example 
 Of Him whose holy work was ' doing good ; ' 
 So shall the wide earth seem our Father's temple, 
 Each loving life a psalm of gratitude." 
 
 — Whittier. 
 
 E have not time to follow Jessie and 
 Willie through all the varied expe- 
 riences of school-life, and there is nothing 
 in theirs very unusual to the every-day trials 
 and pleasures of all students. 
 
 A difficulty arises the first week of the new 
 terra, that, for a time, threatens to aflFect Willie's 
 enjoyment of the play-hours at school ; but it 
 is soon overcome by the bold and resolute 
 manner in which he meets it. 
 
 A few of the boys who were in the same 
 classes with him when he first entered school, 
 were rough, and sometimes very profane in their 
 
 9^ 
 
A WORD IN SEASON. 
 
 conversation. As they were naturally among the 
 earliest with whom he became acquainted, he was 
 obliged to listen to their talk and join in their games at 
 first, but in a few days he withdrew himself from their 
 society, and sought that of more congenial companions. 
 They did not suspect the cause of his leaving them, 
 and after a few good-natured attempts to recaP. him to 
 their side of the play-ground had proved. ineffectual, 
 they left him to choose his own friends. 
 
 Willie Was glad that he had been able to break off 
 from such associates so easily, and did not di'eam of 
 any further trouble arising from it. 
 
 His papa had warned him of the danger of " evil 
 communications " in his last advice to him, and he 
 often repeated it to himself as his first term at school 
 passed away so pleasantly, and thought it was not 
 very difficult to follow ; " Be particularly careful, my 
 boy, to guard against the temptations of little sins. 
 Speak no word that you would not wish your sister or 
 me to hear, and make no boy your friend who does. 
 Keep from the first wrong step, and you will be kept 
 from all." Poor Willi, changes his mind about the 
 difficulty of observing these directions when, at the 
 beginning of the new term, he is called upon to test 
 the strength of the principle that he professes to be 
 guided by. 
 
 Some careless observation, made one day in the 
 
 92 
 
A WORD IN SEASON. 
 
 presence of the worst of these boys, leads him to sus- 
 pect Willie's motives for preferring other society than 
 theirs, and a few skilful questions soon satisfy him 
 that his suspicions are correct. At once begins that 
 system of persecution, hardest of aU for a school-boy to 
 bear. Ridicule and sneers, hard names and cutting 
 jests, are, for a time, the weapons which meet and try 
 his patience and power of self-control, and though he 
 does not think of yielding, he cannot enjoy himself in 
 such surroundings, 
 
 "Jessie tries to comfort and sustain him under the 
 trial, by assuring him that he is in the right, and that 
 even those who are most annoying must respect him in 
 their hearts. • 
 
 " But you have no idea what it is like, Jessie, to have 
 the boys act so, and treat you as if they believed you 
 were the hypocrite and mean sneaking fellow they talk 
 about." 
 
 " I know it must be very hard, dear Willie ; but they 
 will soon be tired, when they see that you are not influ- 
 enced by their jeers, and they will grow ashamed of 
 such one-sided quarrelling. Keep a brave heart for a 
 little time longer, and you '11 completely conquer them.'* 
 
 A few more days of forbearance, and her words are 
 
 verified. The boys, finding that Willie is not to be 
 
 moved from his stand-point of right by all their raillery, 
 
 and feeling an inward consciousness that his side of the 
 
 93 
 
A WORD IN SEASON 
 
 question Is by far most honourable, soon leave him to 
 follow his own views, undisturbed by them. 
 
 And so this ** shadow of mischance" passes away, 
 having fulfilbd its mission of showing Willie Grey his 
 weakness and dependence upon a stronger Power, and 
 leaving him strengthened for the greater conflicts yet to 
 come in his battle with the world. And it is not with- 
 out its influence among the other boys. An added re- 
 spect is felt by those who share in his feelings, and even 
 those who were bitterest against him, in their hearts 
 honour the boy who is firm enough to " stand true to 
 his colours," and the principle that upholds them. 
 
 September passes away, and October's frosts begin to 
 paint the foliage with the gorgeous dyes that autumn 
 produces in our Canadian climate. Amid many sad 
 remembrances connected with this season, there come 
 to Jessie and Willie memories of their old nutting- 
 excursions, and visions of hickory and butternut trees, 
 now dropping their fruit for other fingers to gather. 
 
 They comfort themselves as best they may for the 
 loss of those pleasant days in the woods, by thinking of 
 the more enduring enjoyment they are providing for 
 themselves, in gathering the fruit of the tree of know- 
 ledge, a tree whose supply never fails, but is produced 
 more abundantly as the demands upon it are increased. 
 
 Jessie is still applying herself to study as earnestly 
 as at first, and every day finds her more delighted and 
 
 94 
 
A WORD IN SEASON. 
 
 interested. Vague ideas stand out clear and substan- 
 tiated in the light of science and philosophy, and she 
 tastes eagerly the drops of wisdom that the pages of 
 her text-books furnish. She has learned to love some of 
 the girla at school very dearly, and in general her days 
 pass pleasantly and happily ; but sometimes a tiny cloud 
 will shadow the brightness, and remind her of the 
 transitory and unreliable nature of happiness which 
 depends only upon earthly things. ; v • ' 
 
 She has not neglected to use the kind privilege Miss 
 Mills allowed her of writing to her for advice and sym- 
 pathy in all her troubles, and many a practical lesson 
 has been learned from the few loving words by which 
 her friend answers her appeals. 
 
 Perhaps we can best get an idea of these difficulties by 
 reading a part of one of Jessie's letters, written a few 
 weeks before the close of the Fall term : — 
 
 "I am afraid you will begin to tire of my long 
 stories, but you have always helped me so readily, and 
 cleared away all my doubts, that I feel as if I must 
 come to you with everything. The questions that 
 perplexed me seem so plain and simple after you have 
 analyzed them, that I wonder they ever troubled me, 
 or how I could have been at a loss in deciding about 
 them. 
 
 " You know that school closes in a short time now, 
 and some of the girls are to leave finally at Christmas. 
 
 95 
 
A WORD mSEASOJ\r. 
 
 Well, a few of us were sitting together tlie otlier day, 
 talking of the holidays, and telling what we intended 
 to do when we got through with school-life ; and Nellie 
 Bleecker, one of the girls who finishes at Christmas, 
 told of all the grand parties and gay round of pleasure 
 she expected to be engaged in, and the idle, care-free 
 life she would begin then. Some of the girls said they 
 envied her so much enjoyment, and wished they had 
 nothing to do but looking for amusement for themselves. 
 I suppose I looked grave, for one of them said, *I 
 imagine you think it is sinful to waste time in such 
 things, don't you, Jessie 1 ' They all looked at me, and 
 Nellie repeated the question with a careless laugh. I 
 scarcely knew how to answer for a moment ; but they 
 seemed to expect a reply, so I said that I thought 
 there was something for us each to do, and that God 
 required more from us than the mere seeking of our 
 own pleasure. 
 
 " ' But don't He want us to be happy and enjoy our- 
 selves ] ' said Nellie ; * what was life given us for, if 
 not to be enjoyed?' All the girls agreed that they 
 believed as she did, and declared that there was nothing 
 else to live for, if that object were taken away. 
 
 " I thought of my mother's life, and of many others 
 that I know were far happier than they could have 
 been if they had lived only for their own enjoyment ; 
 and then that «. ientenca, which some one has said 
 
 96 
 
A WORD IN SEASON. 
 
 * contains the whole history of Christ's life upon earth, 
 came into my mind, * He went about doing good.' I 
 tried to express my ideas to the girls. I said that 
 God wanted us to be happy, but that the only real 
 happiness was found in trying to work for Him, and in 
 knowing that our happiness for the life eternal was 
 secured. I thought of all He bore and suffered for us, 
 and how little He esteemed His own comfort through 
 all the weariness and pain of His sojourn upon earth, 
 and remembered that those who follow Him alone make 
 the best use of life. Perhaps I spoke too earnestly, or 
 the girls misunderstood me, for no one said a word 
 when I stopped talking, and some of them have 
 scarcely spoken to me at all since. I am very sorry. 
 I would not like them to think that I set myself up 
 as better than they, or that I tried to teach them. 
 And yet I do not feel as if I said more than I could 
 help, since they asked me. Tell me if I am wrong, and 
 what I should do to make my part right." 
 .. The same day that the letter containing these pas- 
 sages was posted, Jessie finds that she need not have 
 been troubled about the effect of her earnest wordb, as 
 far, at least, as one of her hearers is concerned. Nellie 
 Bleecker, the young lady mentioned in Jessie's letter, is 
 the daughter of a wealthy and fashionable gentleman 
 in one of the western counties. Left motherless at a 
 very early age, her life has been spent at boarding- 
 
 97 _ N 
 
A WORD IN SEASON, 
 
 scliools, and among gay and thoughtless relations. 
 Her beauty and accomplishments, added to a very 
 charming manner, have made her a favourite at Madam 
 
 R 'a ; and Jessie was very much grieved when their 
 
 pleasant intercourse seemed likely to be discontinued. 
 
 Miss Bleecker's boarding-house is but a short dis- 
 tance from Mr Burns's residence, and she generally 
 calls for Jessie on her way to school. For the last few 
 days, however, she has seemed to avoid meeting her, 
 and Jessie has had no opportunity for asking an ex- 
 planation of what is giving her so much pain. 
 
 She is very glad, therefore, to find Nellie waiting 
 for her again as she is starting to school this morning, 
 about a week after the conversation which we have 
 read in the letter to Miss Mills. 
 
 They greet one another affectionately, and Jessie 
 says, gently, "Then you forgive me, Nellie, for unin- 
 tentionally offending you, the other day ?" 
 
 " Forgive you ! Oh, Jessie ! I cannot forgive myself 
 for the sinful waste of time your words showed me my 
 ■eighteen years of life has been. I want you to teach 
 me more j show me how to make amsnds for the past !" 
 
 Tears are falling fast from Jessie's eyes, and Nellie's 
 mind is too disturbed and anxious to become interested 
 in the lessons that await her at school, so she proposes 
 that they get excused from the morning's recitations, and 
 go back to her room, where they can talk undisturbed. 
 
 98 
 
A WORD IN SEASON. 
 
 " I have been so unhappy and dissatisfied with my- 
 self, through all this week!" she says. "I tu.d to 
 drive your words away by thinking of the gay life I 
 have looked forward to so long ; but the thought of 
 that eternal life you spoke of came between all my 
 bright fancies, and shadowed all my pictures. And 
 your patient, sorrowful face has been preaching to me 
 every day, until, this morning, I resolved that I would 
 come to you, and ask you how I must begin to live in 
 
 earnest." ' . • 
 
 "I can only point you to the example which has 
 been given to uc all," says Jessie. " ' To love God and 
 keep His commandments,' Jesus said, is life eternal. 
 We can do nothing more. " 
 
 " But I do not know how to come to Him. I am 
 afraid I do not love Him as I ought, and I do not 
 know how to begin." 
 
 " His own Word will teach you that, dear Nellie. 
 It is impossible to read of all that He has done and 
 suffered for us, and not love Him ; and loving Him, 
 we must obey and follow Him." 
 
 " But it seems so strange, Jessie, that the enjoyment 
 of the world must be given up, and all our amusements 
 and pleasures ! I Cc^nnot understand that." 
 
 "And God does not require us to relinquish ihem, 
 Nellie. It would not make you enjoy to-day's pleasure 
 less, would it, if you knew that the happiness of the 
 
 99 
 
A WOUD IN SEASON. 
 
 next year were secured 1 And in the same way the 
 children of God may enjoy the pleasures of this life, 
 even while looking forward to the assured happiness of 
 the life beyond. One who is really His child," she 
 continues, "and who tries most to be like Him and 
 follow Him, will not take pleasure, or spend his life in 
 frivolous amusements ; but will try to fulfil the solemn 
 duty that rests upon him, of teaching others the know- 
 ledge he has gained." 
 
 Long and earnestly the girls talk together ; Jessie, 
 with her simple, child-like faith, being, perhaps, a 
 better teacher for Nellie's newly-awakened anxiety 
 than any learned theorist could have been. She tells 
 of the sorrowful passages in her life that have taught 
 her, most of all, to cling to the one immovable support ; 
 and Nellie realizes in part what that faith must be 
 which has enabled the gentle, timid girl beside her to 
 " suffer and be strong." 
 
 " I believe I see a glimmering ray of the light that 
 is so plain and bright to you, dear Jessie," she says, at 
 last ', " and I will search and pray until it shines upon 
 me, too, in its full radiance !" 
 
 They part from one another at last, each feeling a 
 new interest and tenderness springing up in her heart, 
 and having become better friends, through the conver- 
 sation of these few hours, than all the previous months 
 
 of school-intercourse had made them. 
 
 loo 
 
A WORD IN SEASON. 
 
 The friendship commenced this bright December day 
 strengthens and increases in after-years; and many 
 times, when school-days are long past, they meet and 
 talk over the influences and events of the morning that 
 first broke through the reserve of mere acquaintance, 
 and made them lila-long friends. 
 
 And Jessie Grey goes on rejoicing, in the quiet path 
 through which the present leads her; but as she 
 *' keeps the noiseless tenor of her way," ihe does not 
 forget the words of the wise man, but often experi- 
 ences for herself that " a word-fitly spoken is like apples 
 of gold in pictures of silver," 
 
CHAPTER XL 
 
 I sit by the hearth of my early days ; 
 All the home-faces are met by the blaze, 
 And the eyes of the mother shine soft, yet say, 
 li is but a dream: it will melt away t" 
 
 —Mrs Hemans. 
 
 HE winter passes away very quietly and 
 uneventfully to our student friends in 
 Toronto. 
 Mr Grey has been, for some months, uncer- 
 tain fc s to the time of his return to Canada, but, 
 with the opening of the spring, a letter is re- 
 ^ ceived expressing his intention of remaining in 
 Scotland at least another year. He has entered 
 Into some business relations that promise to pay 
 well ; and being quite satisfied that the farm at 
 home is in good hands, he has decided to stay 
 until Jessie has quite finished the course of study 
 she has commenced. 
 
 102 
 
''AND THE YEARS GLIDE BYV 
 
 Mr and Mrs Burns are glad to keep her with them 
 as long as possible, and even Jessie, though longing to , 
 see her papa again, is not sorry to have her time at 
 school thus lengthened. 
 
 Though not without many both pleasant and un- 
 pleasant incidents, the succeeding year and a half of 
 her stay in Toronto brings nothing very remarkable, 
 and makes but little change in the gentle, womanly 
 nature ve have known so long. A deeper knowledge 
 of the world and its varieties of character is gained; 
 but the trusting faith of earlier years is still in her 
 heart, and a stronger dependence upon Him who has 
 guarded her so long daily answers her mother's dying 
 prayer, and keeps her yet « unspotted from the world." 
 WiUie's summer vacation is spent at his dear St 
 Lawrence home, and such glowing accounts of its 
 pleasures and enjoyments are given in his letters to 
 Jessie, that she half regrets being persuaded to forego 
 them for any others. She accepted the urgent invita- 
 tion of her friend, Nellie Bleecker, to spend a part of 
 the hoUdays with her, and very happy days those of her 
 visit prove themselves. Nellie is housekeeper for her 
 papa in their luxurious western home, and Jessie re- 
 ceives such a joyous welcome, and is so overwhelmed by 
 loving attentions, that Willie's letters lose all their 
 power of causing regret. They live in a lovely spot 
 upon the shore of Lake Huron, and everything that 
 
 103 
 
''AND THE YEARS GLIDE BY." 
 
 refined taste and abundant means could suggest or 
 supply nas been done to increase the natural beauuy of 
 their surroundings. Delightful drives, boating excur- 
 sions upon the lake, long evening walks, and pleasant 
 morning rides, succeed one another through the weeks of 
 Jessie's stay ; and the two girls enter into all these plea- 
 sures with all the zest and earnestness of girlish interest 
 in ** something new." They find time, too, for many 
 long, quiet talks — talks in which they forget the gaiety 
 of the present, and discuss soberly and seriously the 
 great life-question of every human heart ; that old, 
 often-answered question, " What is Life ? " that has 
 puzzled many older and wiser ones than they, and 
 which, alas ! so many fail entirely in answering aright. 
 But they have been taught its meaning through the 
 unerring counsel of God's Word, and have, in their 
 simple, reverent faith " sat at His feet " to learn, and 
 be prepared for its fulfilment. How much beyond that 
 wisdom which, through wearisome study and toil, has 
 endeavoured to penetrate and comprehend the mystery 
 of Him who was God and man, is the unquestioning 
 confidence of those " little ones " by whom His praise 
 is "perfected," for it is written, "Whosoever shall not 
 receive the kingdom of God as a little child, shall in 
 no wise enter therein ! " 
 
 Jessie's visit comes to an end, as the pleasant things 
 
 of this life ..;U do, and she returns to Toronto to begin 
 
 104 ^ 
 
''AND THE YEARS GLIDE BY." 
 
 her last year at school. It is soon gone, and then the 
 last farewell is given to teachers and classmates, and 
 our little friend's student-life is over. She is now nearly 
 eighteen, and bears away the honours of the school as 
 " first graduate of the season," and, better than all else, 
 she has secured and leaves behind her " loving favour 
 and a good name," those precious things " rather to be 
 chosen than great riches." 
 
 She says good-bye to the kind uncle and auntie who 
 have so long been tender and careful guardians to her, 
 and leaves the pleasant home they have provided, sor- 
 rowfully, and with reluctant feet. 
 
 But all sorrow for the friends left behind, and every 
 feeling of reluctance, vanish as she approaches the dear 
 old home she left so sadly nearly three years before. 
 Other places may have beauties and attractions, but 
 this is, after all, nearest her heart, and must ever be 
 
 best loved. 
 
 She walks about the old familiar grounds, and 
 through the silent house, with a " joy that is almost 
 pain " in its very intensity. 
 
 But not much time can be given to musing. Her 
 papa is expected the first week of September, and the 
 three intervening weeks must be very busy ones, in 
 order that everything may be prepared for his coming, 
 and the old time look of cheerful comfort be given to 
 the rooms and furniture. An efficient helper presents 
 
 105 o 
 
''AND THE YEARS GLIDE BY:' 
 
 lierseK in the person of Miss M^ills, no longer the dis- 
 trict-school teacher, but the happy wife of the young 
 minister, who has taken the place left vacant by the 
 death of the old pastor. With her assistance, every- 
 thing is arranged as it was in the days of the happy past, 
 and each room appears as i smory has pictured it to the 
 wanderer in lands beyond the sea ! 
 
 And then Jessie waits for his coming, while thought, 
 stirred up by the sight of old associations and surround- 
 ings, makes many a visit to the shadowy land of the 
 
 past. 
 
 " Henceforward, listen as we will, 
 
 The voices of that hearth are still ; 
 
 Look where we may, the wide earth o'er, 
 
 Those lighted faces smile no more. 
 
 We tread the paths their feet have worn, 
 
 We sit beneath their orchard-trees, 
 
 We hear, like them, the hum of bees 
 
 And rustle of the bladed corn ; 
 
 But in the sun they cast no shade, 
 
 No voice is heard, no sign is made, 
 
 No step is on the conscious floor ! " 
 
 All this comes home to the heart of the lonely girl ; 
 but there comes, too, the " hours of faith," that have 
 taught her ; that are still repeating, in loving tones — 
 
 ** The truth to flesh and sense unknown, 
 That life is ever lord of death. 
 And love can never lose its own ! " 
 
 At last the trusty ship lands her " homeward bound" 
 
 xo6 
 
''AND THE YEARS GLIDE BY^ 
 
 passengers at Montreal, and Mr Grey is again upon his 
 native soil, and breathing the pure Canadian air. The 
 following day brings him to Jessie, and the very " home, 
 sweet home," his heart has so yearned to see, is his once 
 more. She is more than repaid for all her labour by 
 the few words of thanks and blessing her father whispers 
 as he enters it, and she goes to sleep that night as 
 happily and peacefully as ever in her childhood ; while 
 the murmuring of the waves upon the shore brings back 
 the old joyous dreams, and repeats to her ears the old 
 song she loved in the long ago. 
 
 Mr Grey was accompanied by one of the partners in 
 the business of whose firm he had become a member, a 
 half-cousin of his own ; and as there are many things to 
 be looked after by him, and many visits to be made to 
 old friends and neighbours, the duty of entertaining the 
 young Scotchman devolves almost entirely upon Jessie. 
 She is apparently very successful in removing prejudices, 
 and exciting an admiration for her native land j for 
 when, some months afterwards, he goes back to the 
 « Land of brown heath and shaggy wood," it is only to 
 make preparations for a final return to Canada. 
 
 Willie is still in Toronto, entered now upon his course 
 at the University, and carrying with him there the same 
 strength of principleandenergythatdistinguishedhisboy- 
 
 hood. His father's most cherished wish is gratified by his 
 
 107 
 
''AND THE YEARS GLIDE BVr 
 
 decision to enter the ministry at the close of his college 
 course ; and Jessie, too, is proud and happy in his choice. 
 To her has been confided all his fears and doubts upon 
 the subject, and she is glad to know that the voice of 
 ambition and worldly gain has yielded to that of Him 
 who still appoints them He has chosen and set apart for 
 His special work. 
 
 Time forbids a longer history of the inmates of the 
 white-walled farmhouse. It still stands in its quiet 
 atmosphere of peace and comfort, upon the sunny shore 
 of the St I^awrence ; and it is probable that it will be 
 Jessie Grey's home through all the days of her life 
 upon earth. We may leave her, with no fear for her 
 future, secure in the love that is " never weary." All 
 that He sends or suffers to be will be accepted "as 
 from the Lord," and faith will still see, beneath the 
 seeming ill, the mercy and wisdom of Him who can- 
 not err. 
 
 We would willingly linger about the dear old farm, 
 and recount the events of the next few years. How a 
 church is erected upon the Point, upon the very site of 
 the old loghouse where Mr Grey was born, and where 
 we listened to the stories of Grandma Bernard upon 
 that Saturday afternoon so long ago. How a new 
 school-house is built in the shade of the maple-treea 
 
 beneath which we sat to eat our dinners upon our first 
 
 io8 
 
'* AND THE YEARS GLIDE BVr 
 
 visit. How the old patriotic spirit of 1812 is roused 
 wlien report comes of the invasion of our soil by Fenian 
 rabble, on that June day of '66 ; and how a letter is 
 received from Willie describing the battle, and bearing, 
 in addition to the news of the defeat and flight of the 
 invaders, the sad tidings of the death of fellow-students 
 by their murderous hands. 
 
 And, if to-day we visited the old place, we would 
 listen again to the ringing of childish voices, and hear 
 the familiar names of Willie and Allie sounding through 
 the pleasant house. 
 
 It is but a few weeks since the Willie we have 
 known— the Rev, William Grey to strangers and the 
 world— came from his distant field of labour to look 
 again upon his childhood's home, and greet within its 
 ■walls the father and sister to whose loving advice and 
 sympathy he owes so much of the present good. Many 
 a long afternoon of his visit he spent upon the water, 
 sailing about among the islands he roamed over so 
 joyously as a boy, and recalling to mind many sweet 
 memories of the golden-haired child— his angel-sister 
 now. And the heart of the strong man rises in fervent 
 prayer, that, in all the paths of life, he may possess the 
 bumble, trusting faith that found her so early prepared 
 to " depart and be with Christ," and that the same 
 
 power that has led them through the past will still 
 
 109 
 
** AND THE YEARS GLIDE BY.'* 
 
 provide for whatever the future may bring, until they 
 are united about His throne, to part no more for ever. 
 
 And so our story ends, having followed the life-paths 
 of Jessie and Willie Grey up to this very year of 1869, 
 having shown that the bitterest sorrows, when rightly 
 interpreted by faith, prove to be a source of blessing, 
 and that, " to them that love God, all things work 
 together for good." 
 
 God grant, my child, whoever you may be, that your 
 heart is prepared and strengthened by this love to accept 
 the chastening He sends ! God grant that if to you 
 is given " great tribulation" in the present world, you 
 may have washed your robes and made them white in 
 the blood of the Lamb," and be thus fitted to be " be- 
 fore the throne of God, and serve Him day and night 
 in His temple ! " 
 
 No matter how successful your life may be to the eyes 
 of the world, no matter how famous or wealthy your 
 exertions in it have made you, if you have not trusted 
 to the efficacy of the prrdon bought by the blood of 
 Christ, if you have not followed His footsteps and 
 obeyed His laws, it can be but an entire failure, and 
 will merit the dreadful sentence that was pronounced 
 upon the faithless servant by Him who will be your 
 judge ! 
 
 Consider well and earnestly this one great question, 
 
 no 
 
''AND THE YEARS GLIDE BY." 
 
 upon wHch depends, not only the real enjoyment of the 
 world, but also the happiness or misery of eternity. 
 
 Upon one side there is nothing^ upon the other rests 
 all. Accept Christ, and you have a friend provided for 
 every time of need; One who remains true when wealth 
 and fame, and the dearest earthly relationships, are lost 
 and broken ; One upon whom you may but lean more 
 heavily in the darkest hour; One who will " never for- 
 sake" thom who trust in Him for strength. Reject the 
 offers 01 His love, and you will remain all through life 
 dissatisfied with your pleasures, with yourself, and the 
 world. You will ever feel in your he&rt the restless 
 want of a higher and more enduring source of enjoy- 
 ment, and while you are seeking it, time will be drifting 
 you away from the open gates of mercy to those of jus- 
 tice and retribution ! " Choose ye this day whom ye 
 will serve," and let your choice be Christ ! " Remember 
 now thy Creator in the days of thy youth, while the 
 evil days come not, nor the years draw nigh, when thou 
 shalt say I have no pleasure in them," for each of these 
 years will remove farther the forgetful heart, and make 
 more difl&cult its return. 
 
 Christ has died for you. Make now His love and 
 
 His redemption personal to you, by accepting His own 
 
 conditions, and consecrating to their fulfilment the lile 
 
 that He has given. 
 
 m 
 
''AND THE YEARS GLIDE BY." 
 
 And when this life is over, when we are made im- 
 mortal, and eternity begins, may our lamps be found 
 burning, may we enter together the portals of oui 
 Father's glorious home, to go out no more for ever ! 
 
 THE END. 
 
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