^>. 
 
 .s> 
 
 
 IMAGE EVALUATION 
 TEST TARGET (MT-3) 
 
 
 
 1.0 !i:H- 1^ 
 
 I.I 
 
 1.25 
 
 Photographic 
 
 Sciences 
 
 Corporation 
 
 •u Ki 112.2 
 £ l£ 1120 
 
 1.8 
 
 U 11.6 
 
 23 WEST MAIN STREET 
 
 WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 
 
 (716) 872-4503 
 

 CIHM/ICMH 
 
 Microfiche 
 
 Series. 
 
 CIHIM/ICIVIH 
 Collection de 
 microfiches. 
 
 ■ 
 
 Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions / institut Canadian de microreproductions historiques 
 
 .jfe*'»'"«% 
 
 ii i ia u ii lWU il MUIjJff . 'JtliS tfBaBWiWMitf j i ^yi^riww ' u l l ii l H ni n <m ,>i i'i i lr^^aiSammi\ tim#*m ^ -'M.- m ^ ^ 
 
Technical and Bibliographic Notes/Notes techniques et bibliographiques 
 
 The Institute has attempted to obtain the best 
 original copy available for filming. Features of this 
 copy which may be bibliographicaliy unique, 
 which may alter any of the images in the 
 reproduction, or which may significantly change 
 the usual method of filming, are checked below. 
 
 D 
 
 D 
 
 D 
 D 
 
 D 
 
 D 
 
 Coloured covers/ 
 Couverture de couleur 
 
 ^ 
 
 I I Covers damaged/ 
 
 Couverture endommag6e 
 
 Covers restored and/or laminated/ 
 Couverture restaur6e et/ou pellicul6e 
 
 □ Cover title missing/ 
 Le 
 
 titre de couverture manque 
 
 I I Coloured maps/ 
 
 Cartes g^ographiques en couleur 
 
 Coloured inl( (i.e. other than blue or black)/ 
 Encre de couleur (i.e. autre que bleue ou noire) 
 
 I I Coloured plates and/or illustrations/ 
 
 Planches et/ou illustrations en couleur 
 
 Bound with other material/ 
 Reli6 avec d'autres documents 
 
 Tight binding may cause shadows or distortion 
 along interior margin/ 
 
 La reliure serr6e peut causer de I'ombre ou de la 
 distortion le long de la marge int^rieure 
 
 Blank leaves added during restoration may 
 appear within the text. Whenever possible, these 
 have been omitted from filming/ 
 II se peut que certaines pages blanches ajout6es 
 lors d'une restauration apparaissent dans le texte, 
 mais, lorsque cela dtait possible, ces pages n'ont 
 pas 6t6 film6es. 
 
 Additional comments:/ 
 Commentaires suppl^mentaires; 
 
 L'Institut a microf ilm6 le meilleur exemplaire 
 qu'il lui a 6X6 possible de se procurer. Les details 
 de cet exemplaire qui sont peut-Atre uniques du 
 point de vue bibliographique, qui peuvent modifier 
 une image reproduite, ou qui peuvent exiger une 
 modification dans la methods normale de filmage 
 sont indiqu^s ci-dessous. 
 
 I I Coloured pages/ 
 
 
 
 Pages de couleur 
 
 Pages damaged/ 
 Pages endommag6es 
 
 Pages restored and/oi 
 
 Pages restaur6es et/ou peiiicul^es 
 
 Pages discoloured, stained or foxe( 
 Pages ddcolordes, tachet6es ou piqu6es 
 
 Pages detached/ 
 Pages d^tach^es 
 
 Showthroughy 
 Transparence 
 
 Quality of prir 
 
 Quality indgale de I'impression 
 
 Includes supplementary materii 
 Comprend du materiel suppl^mentaire 
 
 |~~| Pages damaged/ 
 
 I I Pages restored and/or laminated/ 
 
 I I Pages discoloured, stained or foxed/ 
 
 I I Pages detached/ 
 
 I I Showthrough/ 
 
 I I Quality of print varies/ 
 
 □ Includes supplementary material/ 
 C 
 
 Only edition available/ 
 Seule Edition disponible 
 
 Pages wholly or partiaSly obscured by errata 
 slips, tissues, etc., have been refilmed to 
 ensure the best possible image/ 
 Les pages totalement ou partiellement 
 obscurcies par un feuillet d'errata, une pelure, 
 etc., ont M filmies d nouveau de fa^on d 
 obtenir la meilleure image possible. 
 
 This item is filmed at the reduction ratio checked below/ 
 
 Ce document est film^ au taux de reduction indiqu6 ci-dessous. 
 
 10X 14X 18X 22X 
 
 26X 
 
 30X 
 
 X 
 
 12X 
 
 16X 
 
 20X 
 
 24X 
 
 28X 
 
 32X 
 
 ai«^-^W.-.:^-- 
 
 ■»««M«i&fe^:^a)«^*- 
 
ilaire 
 IS details 
 ques du 
 nt modifier 
 Kiger une 
 le filmage 
 
 The copy filmed here has been reproduced thanlcs 
 to the generosity uf : 
 
 '■^ Library of Congress 
 
 Photoduplication Service 
 
 The images appearing here are the best quality 
 possible considering the condition and! legibility 
 of the original copy and in iteeping with the 
 filming contract specifications. 
 
 L'exemplaire filmA fut reproduit grAce A la 
 g6n(ftrositA de: 
 
 Library of Congress 
 Photoduplication Service 
 
 Les images suivantes ont bxh reproduites avec le 
 plus grand soin, compte tonu de la condition et 
 de la nettstA da I'exemplaira film6, et en 
 conformity avec les conditions du contrat de 
 filmage. 
 
 »d/ 
 IquAes 
 
 Original copies in printed paper covers are filmed 
 beginning with the front cover and ending on 
 the last page with a printed or illustrated Impres- 
 sion, or the back cover when appropriate. All 
 other original copies are filmed beginning on the 
 first page with a printed or illustrated impres- 
 sion, and ending on the last page with a printed 
 or illustrated impression. 
 
 The last recorded frame on each microfiche 
 shall contain the symbol -^ (meaning "CON- 
 TINUED"), or the symbol y (meaning "END"), 
 whichever applies. 
 
 Les exempiaires originaux dont la couverture en 
 papier est imprimAe sont filmAs en commenpant 
 par le premier plat et en terminant soit par la 
 derniAre page qui comporte une empreinte 
 d'impresslon ou d'illustration, soit par le second 
 plat, selon le cas. Tous les autres exempiaires 
 originaux sont filmAs en commen^ant par la 
 premidre page qui comporte une empreinte 
 d'impresslon ou d'illustration et en terminant par 
 la dernidre page qui comporte une telle 
 empreinte. 
 
 Un des symboles suivants apparaitra sur la 
 dernlAre image de cheque microfiche, selon le 
 cas: le symbole — ► signifie "A SUIVRE", le 
 symbole V signifie "FIN". 
 
 itaire 
 
 (Maps, plates, charts, etc., may be filmed at 
 different reduction ratios. Those too large to be 
 entirely Included in one exposure are filmed 
 beginning in the upper left hand corner, left to 
 right and top to bottom, as many frames as 
 required. The following diagrams illustrate the 
 method: 
 
 Les cartes, planches, tableaux, etc., peuvent Atre 
 filmAs d des taux de reduction diffArents. 
 Lorsque le document est trop grand pour dtre 
 reproduit en un seui clichA, ii est filmA A partir 
 de I'angle supArieur gauche, de gauche d droite, 
 et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre 
 d'images nAcessaire. Les diagrammes suivants 
 illustrent la mAthode. 
 
 id by errata 
 ilmed to 
 
 iment 
 
 a. une pelure, 
 
 le fapon d 
 
 >le. 
 
 )X 
 
 1 2 3 
 
 32X 
 
 1 
 
 2 
 
 3 
 
 ■ 4 
 
 8 
 
 6 
 
 :^^^9l$^:^^;^ 
 
 liw ii Jia)»d»» i * i awfl*iM iaiirtBte&iWiMea(<^^ ' ■>w^w iwa4i«<i^.i»«>tf .w^itva ^ ^ 
 
.s> .. 
 
i^.-n.ui^ui^fllUlli' ■.dl'JIr!^ 
 
 
 BOBBIE MEliEDlTIl. 
 
 I I, 
 
 BY 
 
 MRS. J. J. COLTER, 
 
 ||!l M w 
 
 'iO'l,^ 
 
 ^C 
 
 
 /■•',; /i/^^J I, f 
 
 Published by ^. i?^//zrt^i^ cS- ^^. 
 
 (2)oz;£!r, .V. //.; G. T. (Day & Co. 
 
 ■7=T 
 
■***•■"-*> 
 
 
 4 
 
 4 
 
 1 \ 
 
 I 
 
 ^ 
 
 "1 1 ' ji y 
 
 i<lJ. 
 
(^^ 
 
 I I ■ iriii rirnHtinirt ^nrrW 
 
 ^««MK^^ — ■■/ ■. ..-.^-iAAwawiWilMiiy 
 
(© 
 
 4n 
 
 6/9 
 
 Copyright, 1876, by D. Lothrop & Co. 
 
 
 f# 
 
 'In 
 
 ^mmmmmmtmmSiSm 
 
 
il9 
 
 )p & Co. 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 %*% 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 HOMB RETAINED . • • • • 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 VALUABLE AID 
 
 CHAPTER III. • 
 
 CREDIT • • 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 AT SCHOOL . . • • • 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 • DEATH . . • • • • 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 SUNDAY SUITS . . • 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 iy CONVERSION . • • V • 
 
^WHMIF^WgllHWWBB 
 
 BmmKmmmammfm 
 
 O 
 
 B=r * 
 
 ml 
 
 I 
 
 4 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 CHRISTIAN WOKK . . . . . I06 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 CHANOBt • 115 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 OOIMO TO COLLEGE .135 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 VACATION 134 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 ROME AGAIN I49 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 DESIRE TO STUDY. l($3 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 RETURN • • 171 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 UNIONS • . 179 
 
 *WBp> 
 
 ■■ 
 
 ij 
 
miMHHIIBimR 
 
 .mmk.iimikm: -tmm^JWM 'WKf^ 
 
 -«-*■ 
 
 io6 
 
 n$ 
 
 125 
 
 134 
 149 
 
 163 
 
 171 
 
 179 
 
 1^ 
 
 ROBBIE MEREDITH. 
 
 •*••- 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 BOMB XBTAIMBO. 
 
 1 
 
 rT is no use, Robbie, we can't keep to- 
 gether much longer. I have tried to do 
 evening for the best, but work is scarce, and 
 times are so hard. I am afraid we can't manage 
 to live through another winter." 
 
 " But what can we do, even if we should sepa- 
 rate, mother ? " 
 
 " Helen can get a situation somewhere, per- 
 haps, as nurse-girl, and I am sure any of the 
 farmers around wiU be glad to get you, my son." 
 
 As she spoke, a gleam of satisfaction bright- 
 er) 
 
 r^rr-^'^immmm 
 
 .1-1^ 
 
u 
 
 ^sp f 
 
 8 
 
 Robbie Meredith. 
 
 ened the thin, sad face of the mother ; the most 
 careless observer could see that her heart was 
 bound up in the noble-looking boy standing near 
 her easy chair. 
 " But where will our little mother go ? " 
 In spite of the smile on the lips, and the at- 
 tempted gayety in the words, his mother saw a 
 twitching about the sensitive mouth, and could 
 hear, too, a quiver of pain in her boy's voice. 
 Glancing through the open window at her side, 
 over the bare brown fields on which the April 
 sun was fitfully shining, she tried to answer care- 
 lessly. 
 
 " Oh, there will be no danger about me, I can 
 get a situation somewhere ; I shall not care for 
 myself if my childicn are only cared for." 
 
 " Your children will care, though, my mother, 
 so don't let us think of breaking up our home 
 yet; surely we can manage someway through 
 the summer, and you must recollect I am a good 
 deal stronger to work than last year; just wait 
 until you see the crop I shall pUt in." 
 
 / 
 
 ^K, 
 
!,..-^:^Li'J^-'-ka.^ 
 
 ;iwavssEir£*SsSS's^4SSK?e«5'S5 
 
 '*^- 
 
 ther ; the most 
 her heart was 
 standing near 
 
 ergo?" 
 
 ips, and the at- 
 
 mother saw a 
 juth, and could 
 er boy's voice, 
 low at her side, 
 rhich the April 
 to answer care- 
 about me, I can 
 all not care for 
 red for." 
 igh, my mother, 
 g up our home 
 nneway through 
 ect I am a good 
 
 year ; just wait 
 [ in. 
 
 Homf Retained. 9 
 
 Mrs. Meredith turned toward her son with i. 
 more hopeful look in her face. . 
 
 " Do you think, Robbie, we could do anything 
 alone ? I would be willing to make any sacrifice 
 if we could only keep together." 
 
 " Let us try, anyway, mother, we can't be much 
 worse off in the fall even if our crops should fail, 
 but I don't think there will be any danger of 
 their doing so. Farmer Williams will tell me 
 anything I don't know, and maybe help us with 
 the ploughing ; he has so many men I am wr- 
 tain he will let one of them come for an hour or 
 two now and then with the horses." 
 
 " Well, my son, you shall have my consent, but* 
 you must let us all help you. Helen and Mary 
 will be able to do a little, and, if God spares my 
 life and my health gets no poorer, I shall be able 
 
 to do a little too." 
 
 "O mother 1 if you will just stay with us, and 
 brighten up our Home, we won't ask for any 
 
 more." 
 » "Why, Robbie, where do you think I may 
 
 / 
 
 ••"I 
 
- 1'- 
 
 ■feikk 
 
 40 
 
 Robbit Meredith. 
 
 go ? " She looked up at him with a surprised 
 expression. 
 
 " Oh, I am all the time afraid you will be float- 
 ing off out of our sight, up among the angels. I 
 can't wonder, either, that you should wish to go 
 since father is there." 
 
 The tears were quivering on the lashes of both 
 mother and son now. The one great sorrow of 
 the mother's life had shadowed her son's child- 
 hood too. His sisters were too young at the 
 time of their father's death to feel his loss so 
 keenly as their brother ; his long sickness, too, 
 had extended back, almost beyond their recoUec- 
 »tion, and, unlike Robbie, they could not recall the 
 happy days when their father used to make home 
 so happy by his healthy, cheery presence. How 
 gloomy the gladsome time of harvesting made 
 their mother, they well knew, because it was then 
 their father received the injury that ended in 
 death several years afterward. It was not often 
 the circumstances of his sickness and death were 
 the topics of conversation. 
 
 lA 
 
 .-■; -^^«<«wt<j^>j,K;^.aa|r»^:,■,.^^a^Bi jlX^) JW ttlMJ WWWWlMW WI IBJW^tWHi ! 
 
•STyS'SuS?:';"^: 
 
 Homt Retained^ 
 
 U 
 
 :h a surprised 
 
 1 will be float- 
 :he angels. I 
 lid wish to go 
 
 lashes of both 
 'eat sorrow of 
 :r son's child- 
 yroung at the 
 :1 his loss so 
 sickness, too, 
 their recoUec* 
 not recall the 
 :o make home 
 sence. How 
 (resting made 
 ie it was then 
 liat ended in 
 was not often 
 id death were 
 
 A 
 
 The children loved best to hear their mother 
 describe the happy days when no heavy sorrow 
 rested on their home ; when the pinching pov- 
 erty, with which they were now so sadly inti- 
 mate, was unknown ; when mother and father, 
 Robbie, and baby Harry, who had passed away 
 among the angels before even Helen was born, 
 lived far away in the vineKiovered cottage near 
 grandpapa's, and when aunts and uncles, cousins 
 and friendly neighbors, met in pleasant inter- 
 course, sharing their joys and lightening their 
 sorrows. But after this the dreary changes had 
 come. 
 
 To better his condition their father had left 
 the home across the sea, hoping to make a richer 
 one in the new world. For a year or two for- 
 tune smiled upon them, and he had the prospect 
 of having his best hopes realized, and then mis- 
 fortune came, but not too soon for him to have 
 made warm friends among his new associates, 
 who generously helped his heart-broken wife care 
 for her slowly dying husband, and also cultivate 
 
 ,i 
 
IS 
 
 Robbie Meredith. 
 
 a sufficient portion of land to support the family. 
 Mary could just recollect her father's pale face 
 propped up among the pillows, smiling so ten- 
 derly, yet sadly, upon them all, while she could 
 more distinctly call to mind the dreary time when 
 the house was filled with strange faces, and the 
 long, black coffin was followed out through the 
 misty midsummer stillness by her mother and 
 Robbie, with the long procession of kindly neigh- 
 bors, leaving Helen and herself alone with kind- 
 hearted, homely Nancy, whose face was so famil- 
 iar where sickness and sorrow were found that, 
 to many of the people, her presence always 
 brought melancholy recollections. 
 
 But such was not little Mary's experience. So 
 many delicate bits of cake and confectionery had 
 found their way to her unaccustomed lips from 
 Nancy's voluminous pockets, and so many dark, 
 solitary days in their home, when their mother 
 was ill, had been made pleasant by the self-forget- 
 ful old maiden, who waited on the mother with 
 more than a physician's skill, brightening up the 
 
 
t the family, 
 sr's pale face 
 ling so ten- 
 e she could 
 y time when 
 ces, and the 
 through the 
 mother and 
 indly neigh- 
 e with kind- 
 as so famil- 
 found that, 
 nee always 
 
 rience. So 
 tionery had 
 1 lips from 
 many dark, 
 eir mother 
 self-forget- 
 other with 
 ing up the 
 
 Horn* Retained. 
 
 13 
 
 lonely rooms by a score of ways, and, what was 
 next to best of all, telling them such wonderful 
 stories of her own childhood and youth, as well as 
 of dozens of other children who were her play- 
 mates then, but were now, many of them, staid 
 heads of families with grandchildren as large as 
 even Robbie, that she could only have happy 
 thoughts associated with her. 
 
 Nancy had an unfailing stock of anecdote, — 
 histories for which she could vouch, and others, 
 also, which she could only tell on trust — won- 
 derful ghost stories which would make the blood 
 curdle, and hair stand on end, as she mysteriously 
 related them, in wide, dimly lighted kitchens, to 
 audiences whose grey-haired members seemed as 
 deeply interested as the little boy or girl who 
 crouched tremblingly near its mother's knee. 
 Only once or twice had the Meredith children 
 been feasted on their friend's ghastly fare. Their 
 mother strictly forbade the narrator from telling 
 them, at the same time commanding them not to 
 listen to such stories. Fortunately neither party 
 
 I! ^*""" 
 
 A 
 
 -*=^"s'WiPlfc"iv< '.-.". 
 
• I 
 
 I 
 
 «4 
 
 Hoiiu Meredith. 
 
 thought of violating her orders, else the timid 
 children might have passed many terrible hours 
 of solitude in their mother's absence. 
 
 Nancy could only wonder at the strange pro- 
 hibition, at the same time pitying the children 
 when she believed they were missing so much 
 useful knowledge; as it was, she tried to make 
 her remaining stories all the more interesting, 
 and was generally satisfied with the result of her 
 endeavors, as she looked in the eager faces of the 
 children while drinking in every word that fell 
 from her lips. 
 
 After awhile Robbie seemed less interested in 
 what she had to tell him, taking more pleasure 
 in the books which had comprised his father's 
 scant library, or in those he could borrow from 
 neighboring book-shelves, especially Mr. Car- 
 thene's, their minister, whose library yielded 
 him the richest supply. 
 
sFK;g«ra!?^SPai!ia?fr 
 
 B the timid 
 rrible hours 
 
 (trange pro- 
 he children 
 ig 80 much 
 ed to make 
 interesting, 
 ■esult of her 
 faces of the 
 rd that fell 
 
 nterested in 
 re pleasure 
 his father's 
 mrrow from 
 ' Mr. Car- 
 try yielded 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 VALUABLE AID. 
 
 ^ HE April days, with their fitful brightness 
 and raw uncomfortable winds, were draw- 
 ing to a close. Every preparation in his power 
 for the coming seed-time, Robbie had diligently 
 made ; but, for a lad of thirteen with but few to 
 help, very little could be accomplished, except 
 multitudinous planning with the little mother, as 
 he had learned to call her ^rom his father's play- 
 ful teachings. Very bright had been his hopes 
 at first ; rose-colored dreams of the autumn har- 
 vesting had Icept him from actually sleeping 
 many an hour during the seed-time. That very 
 
! 
 
 Itf 
 
 Robbif Mtrtditk, 
 
 day in which his mother's consent had been 
 gained to try to farm, he consulted farmer Wil- 
 liams and asked his advice. The farmer's an- 
 swer was not very encouraging, but yet he gladly 
 told the brave, self-reliant boy what he thought 
 would be the best seed for him to invest in, at 
 the same time generously proffering his assist- 
 ance to help him on. 
 
 " You may have a team to-morrow, and one of 
 the hands can go and help you plough, it is high 
 time now the ground was broken up ; we might 
 have had it all done in the slack times in the fall 
 if we had only thought, but 'better late than 
 never,' isn't that so," Bob?" and he laughed. 
 
 " I am very much obliged to you, sir, and if 
 you wil trust me so long, some day I shall hope 
 to pay you for your kindness." 
 
 " Oii, never mind the pay. Maybe the little I 
 do may go to my account, somewhere that I need 
 it more, than in this world." 
 
 As he spoke, the round good-humored face of 
 the farmer sobered thoughtfully for an instant, 
 
 on' 
 he 
 go 
 gr 
 
 sa 
 he 
 
 01 
 
 th 
 w 
 « 
 
 cl 
 
 tl 
 
 t1 
 
 k 
 
 -.-J Uil.- I Ul 
 
MB 
 
 had been 
 armer Wil- 
 irmer's an- 
 t he gladly 
 he thought 
 ivest in, at 
 
 his assist- 
 
 and one of 
 , it is high 
 
 we might 
 I in the fall 
 ' late than 
 e laughed. 
 , sir, and if 
 
 shall hope 
 
 the little I 
 that I need 
 
 red face of 
 an instant, 
 
 VeduabU Aid, 
 
 only to ripple over again a minute afterward, as 
 he hastened to ask his little friend where he was 
 going to get the seed that must be put in the 
 
 ground. 
 
 "We have talked that > : over, too," Robbie 
 said, while a shade of sadness flitted over his 
 hopeful face. "Mother thinks Helen might go 
 out to service, for a few weeks, among some of 
 the farmers, and help us to get a little in that 
 way, and beside, we have father's watch to sell" 
 His lips quivered, but he opened wide those soft 
 grey eyes and looked steadily up at the dark 
 cloud that was slowly bearing down towards 
 them, with the promise of a threatened shower, 
 thereby missing the compassionate look in the 
 kind-hearted old farmer's face, as he said : 
 
 "There's no need of doing either. I have 
 more seed, of every kind, than I shall plant 
 Dick may take you a load over to-morrow w 
 he goes to plough." 
 Robbie's eyes were too fuU to watch the cloud 
 
 any longer. . 
 
 mmm 
 
siammmamKmsmm 
 
 Uii 
 
 
 18 
 
 Robbit Mtrtdith. 
 
 True to his promise, next clay an abundant 
 supply of potatoes, with barley and wheat seed, 
 besides various packages of garden seeds, which 
 were consigned to Mrs. Meredith's care, found 
 their way over to the cottage across the lots from 
 farmer Williams'. 
 
 Dick, his handsome, fun-loving boy, went to 
 superintend operations as he gaily announced, 
 accompanied by a trusty farm servant who was 
 good-natured enough to humor the lad's propen- 
 sity for commanding. 
 
 Such a happy day as they had. Even little 
 Mary thought to add her quota to the general 
 fund of helpfulness, by diligently assisting the 
 mother to prepare the unusually generous dinner 
 for their kindly helpers. 
 
 It was only when the stars began to assemble 
 across the welkin that Robbie was willing to 
 cease working, although too tired to sleep for 
 hours afterward. But as he lay tossing wearily, 
 the pleasing thought of the day's unhoped for ac- 
 complishment reconcUed him to the aches and 
 
 pa 
 
 be 
 he 
 ha 
 foi 
 
 ca 
 
 wi 
 D 
 fr. 
 er 
 
 8< 
 
 ni 
 
 pi 
 w 
 
 lo 
 
 es 
 
 MRHMHIKi. 
 
n abundant 
 wheat seed, 
 ieeds, which 
 care, found 
 he lots from 
 
 joy, went to 
 
 announced, 
 
 mt who was 
 
 lad's propen- 
 
 Even little 
 
 the general 
 
 assisting the 
 
 lerous dinner 
 
 n to assemble 
 as willing to 
 to sleep for 
 ssing wearily, 
 nhoped for ac- 
 he aches and 
 
 VatttabU Aid. 
 
 19 
 
 pains that were the result of his over-exertion. 
 Next day he was scarcely able to leave his 
 bed ; and as his mother bathed the hot, feverish 
 head of her boy, bitter tears fell on the soft curly 
 hair, while a fervent prayer was silently offered 
 for health and life for her idolized child. 
 
 In a few days he was at work again, with a 
 caution learned from severe experience, together 
 with the knowledge gained, that he was not like 
 Dick, or the other lads in the place, able to jivork 
 from morning till night with such untiring 
 energy. 
 
 A repining feeling would sometimes take pos- 
 session of his heart, when he was obliged, in the 
 midst of his work, to rest under a tree or lie 
 panting on the settle bed by the kitchen window, 
 while he thought that not even health was al- 
 lowed him to cope with the difficulties that so 
 early beset his pathway ia life. 
 
 " I wonder did God plan it for me, and, if so, 
 why did be give me so poor a chance ? " Over 
 and over again had he asked himself this. " If 
 
 \1 
 
 nm^^MmttM'^^Ut^ 
 
MMVaiBMII 
 
 Robbit Mmdith. 
 
 even fathc could have lived," he would murmur, 
 "I would not have minded being ill able to work; 
 but how can I ever manage to do for mother and 
 the girls — my poor little mother. Oh I why it 
 
 life so hard?" 
 
 Notwithstanding his fears, however, the crop 
 was got in, and a noble one it was, too, so all the 
 farmers united In saying. Other help was given 
 beside what the Williamses so freely rendered. 
 When the people saw Robbie so anxious to help 
 his mother, their hearts were warmed toward 
 him, and they seemed anxious as to who should 
 
 do most 
 
 Nancy came proffering her help, in the gen- 
 eral contribution, she was not willing to be left 
 out. Mrs. Meredith thought there was nothing 
 for her to do, until Nancy's sharp eyes detected 
 the unfinished appearance of the vegetable gar- 
 den, and it was not long before she had forced 
 the uneven beds into models of neatness and 
 regularity. Not satisfied with leaving her work 
 there, many a long twUight hour was spent in 
 
 I. 
 
■Ml 
 
 iMHa 
 
 tuld murmur, 
 
 able tu work; 
 
 r mother and 
 
 Oh I why is 
 
 iver, the crop 
 too, so all the 
 elp was given 
 eely rendered, 
 nxious to help 
 irmed toward 
 to who should 
 
 p, in the gen- 
 ling to be left 
 :e was nothing 
 eyes detected 
 vegetable gar- 
 she had forced 
 : neatness and 
 iving her work 
 ir was spent in 
 
 I 
 
 freeing them from weeds, and training the climb* 
 ing plants on poles, which she begged for the 
 purpose from surrounding neighbors. 
 
 It could not but pain the sensitive heart of 
 Mrs. Meredith, when her eye would catch a 
 glimpse of her ragged-looking friend bending 
 over those beds, whose untidy appearance was 
 such an eye-sore to herself, weeding diligently 
 there after a tiresome day spent at the spinning- 
 wheel. Remonstrances were vain; her cheery 
 reply would be : 
 
 "Why, bless your heart, the breath of the 
 fresh air is such a treat after the greasy smell 
 of the spinning-room; and, beside, you never 
 could keep all this garden clean. It is enough 
 for a man to tend, let alone a little mite of a 
 woman like you." 
 
 Then she would give vent to the light-hearted 
 laugh that was rarely a stranger to her healthy 
 nature, at the same time displaying the unsightly 
 stumps of teeth that seemed never to cause her a 
 pang dE mortified vanity. 
 
 I 
 

 Robbie Mtredith. 
 
 Thanks to Nai^cy, rather than anyone else, 
 the garden gradually assumed a prolific appear- 
 ance that was the delight of both Robbie's and 
 his mother's eyes, while in the early summer, 
 many a dinner, that would otherwise have been 
 sadly deficient, was made sufficiently comfortable, 
 by the help of. the mother's skillful cookery, to 
 satisfy the appetites of her children. 
 
 From the adjacent barnyards, so much top- 
 dressing, as the farmers aptly call it, had been 
 contributed that the grass on the little farm 
 grew abundantly; another cow, it was thought 
 by Mrs. Meredith's, advisers, might be safely in- 
 vested in, to keep company with the gentle Blos- 
 som that brovv.cd contentedly in the narrow strip 
 of pasture land at the back of the meadow. 
 
 "But where can it come from?" Robbie 
 asked, perplexedly. , 
 
 "Do you mean the cow or the money, my 
 
 son ? " 
 
 " It makes little difEerence which, mother." 
 " Well, I have thought of a plan, Robbie, il 
 
 you will agree with it" 
 
 L 
 
i>.*^.-^-«eU^he«ltflifcJW*,MfcMlX-*iV^W.'ii*':i>tiS«ig'^^ 
 
 anyone else, 
 olific appear- 
 Robbie's and 
 irly summer, 
 56 have been 
 f comfortable, 
 111 cookery, to 
 
 I. 
 
 so much top- 
 i it, had been 
 be little farm 
 t was thought 
 t be safely in- 
 le gentle Blos- 
 le narrow strip 
 meadow. 
 >m?" Robbie 
 
 he money, my 
 
 ch, mother." 
 plan, Robbie, if 
 
 i 
 
 ■ii 
 
 Valuable Aid. 
 
 23 
 
 "I am willing to do anything you may wish, 
 no matter what it is." 
 
 " I am afraid my boy has too much confidence 
 in his mother's judgment." 
 
 •• I can never do wrong, I am sure, if 1 do as 
 you wish ; so let me hear about the cow." 
 
 " Do you think, Robbie, we might venture to 
 get one on credit, and pay in small instalments 
 of butter, or anything we could produce ? " 
 
 "Why, yes," Robbie answered, slowly. He 
 was too much surprised at his mother hinting, 
 even, that they should go into debt, after the 
 life-long teaching he had received from her lips 
 to the contrary. 
 
 " You don't think I am getting demoralized ? " 
 she said, playfully, as she saw the slighUy troub- 
 led look on his face. 
 
 " No, mother, but will it be safe for us to go in 
 
 debt so largely?" 
 
 " I think so, Robbie, if farmer Williams is our 
 creditor ; he wUl not distress us about the pay- 
 ments, I am sure " 
 

 1 
 
 i 
 1 
 
 1 
 
 
 ?i 
 
 
 i 
 
 i 
 
 ■ - 
 
 
 
 i^ 
 
 
 
 24 
 
 Roiiie MtrtdUh. 
 
 " Yes, I know that, mother ; but can we allow 
 ourselves to get so deeply in debt ? I mean in 
 every way. See what he is doing for us all 
 along." 
 
 " Someway, Robbie, I am coming to think we 
 shall pay him back, principal and interest, some 
 day; and I am certain what he does for us makes 
 him far happier than if he spent it all on himself 
 or family. God gives the poor to the rich as a 
 sacred trust, for them to look after. I am com- 
 ing to understand thi:^ more clearly as I grow 
 older." 
 
 " I wonder if we ever get rich will we pay Him 
 back, I mean our Father in heaven, for all he is 
 doing for us now ? " 
 
 " I hope so, Robbie ; but we need not wait 
 until we get rich for that ; every day the poorest 
 can do something for God." 
 
 A long pause followed ; each seemed, uncon- 
 sciously, to be following out silently the new 
 train of thought. At length Robbie said : 
 
 " Shall we help farmer Williams lay up more 
 treasure in heaven, by taking his cow ? " 
 
 1. 
 
 'igS^!^SSr~ 
 
VaAiaUe Aid. 
 
 25 
 
 can vie allow 
 i I mean in 
 g for us all 
 
 ; to think we 
 Dterest, some 
 for us makes 
 ill on himself 
 the rich as a 
 . I am com- 
 ly as I grow 
 
 I we pay Him 
 }, for all he is 
 
 eed not wait 
 ly the poorest 
 
 eemed, uncon- 
 ntly the new 
 ie said : 
 i lay up more 
 aw?" 
 
 •* Yes, my son," was the quiet reply ; and with- 
 out more ado, Robbie started across the lots, on 
 the well-beaten path, for his friend's house. 
 Soon Helen and Mary came tripping joyously 
 down the lane, shouting to their mother to come 
 and see White^ace, for Robbie was bringing her 
 
 home. 
 
 « I didn't think he was going to give us one of 
 his very best cows, mother," he said as he opened 
 the bars to drive her into the pasture with Blos- 
 som. 
 
 " It is a gift to the good Lord as much as to us. 
 He will get his hundredfold reward, I hope." 
 
 " Is it a gift, mother ? " Helen asked with sur- 
 prise. 
 
 " Almost a gift," Robbie answered. •< He only 
 charges twenty dollars for her, and just now she 
 is worth twice that much." And so she proved 
 to them before summer was ended. 
 
 With so much extra milk Nancy decided that 
 a little pig was a necessity. So partly begging 
 one from a rich old farmer, with whom she was 
 
 J 
 
26 
 
 Robbit Meredith. 
 
 spinning, she walked proudly over in the amber 
 twilight cf a lovely June evening, with a little 
 white piggy, squealing along at intervals, in an 
 old meal sack under her shawl. 
 
 Mary begged hard (or permission to take it to 
 bed with her the first night of its arrival, so 
 strongly was she drawn to the little pink-eyed 
 stranger. The request was, of course, refused ; 
 so she was reluctantly obliged to listen to its 
 nestling, from her little bed, in the little room o£E 
 the kitchen, where piggy was kept for the night 
 Next day Robbie displayed hb carpentering 
 ingenuity, by buildinjf it a little stye, at which 
 the mother and Helen assisted. Mary, too, 
 showed her anxiety to help by pounding her fin- 
 gers, tearing her pinafore, and making herself 
 generally wretched. 
 
 For awhile her mother was spared any labor 
 or anxiety on piggy's account, while he was kept 
 in such a state of satisfied quietude, by the abun- 
 dance of his diet, that she could wash, or fondle 
 him to her heart's content. But it was not long 
 
 \ 
 
Valuable Aid. 
 
 V 
 
 the amber 
 vith a little 
 rvals, in an 
 
 to take it to 
 arrival, so 
 : pink-eyed 
 se, refused ; 
 isten to its 
 tie room o£E 
 )r the night 
 :arpentering 
 ^e, at which 
 Mary, too, 
 ding her fin- 
 king herself 
 
 ;d any labor 
 he was kept 
 by the abun- 
 sh, or fondle 
 was not long 
 
 U 
 
 until she tired of her new playmate. The blood 
 of so many untrained ancestors coursed in his 
 frame that it was in vain she endeavored to 
 awaken a responsive chord in his sluggish breast, 
 answering to the lavish affection she poured out 
 
 upon him. 
 
 At last, haying time came. White-face's milk, 
 supplemented by Blossom's, had so far paid off 
 the debt to farmer WiUiams that Mrs. Meredith 
 began to breathe freely. 
 
 Very few such simple luxuries as tea or sugar 
 had been purchased during the summer, whUe 
 butter was such a rarity in the economic house- 
 hold, that those were certainly red-letter days to 
 the chUdren when their table was graced by the 
 golden prints. But they took, generally, without 
 a murmur, the skimmed mUk and porridge for 
 breakfast, with a thick slice of brown bread, 
 which left them always by dinner time so 
 healthy an appetite that their mother's stew of 
 vegetables, with the infinitessimal bit of pork, or 
 what they liked very much better, a treat of fresh 
 
 "llilHtfliif ' 
 
i 
 
 
 meat from a neighboring farm-house, was eii« 
 joyed as fully as if their breakfast had been the 
 richest. 
 
 At tea time, generally with them a misnomer, 
 as not even Mrs. Meredith could think of allow- 
 ing herself that acceptable beverage except on 
 rare occasions, they were obliged to be satisfied 
 with a bowl of milk and a slice of toasted bread. 
 
 Robbie always endeavored to look satisfied 
 with his sometimes loathed food, so tired had he 
 grown of the monotonous bill of fare. But Mary 
 would ask now and then for a bit of cake or a 
 taste of butter or moksses. She said one even- 
 ing: 
 
 " They always have preserves or cake over at 
 aunt's, mamma, why can't we have something 
 nice, too, does it cost too much ? " 
 
 "Yes, Mary," Robbie answered; "but just be 
 patient a little while longer and we shall have 
 those nice things, too. Mother eats just what 
 we do, and she never complains." 
 
 " Oh dear, mamma, have I made you cry be* 
 
 1 
 
 ■ 
 
 
«, was en- 
 d been the 
 
 misnomer, 
 k of allow- 
 
 except on 
 M satisfied 
 ted bread. 
 »k satisfied 
 ired had he 
 
 But Mary 
 ; cake or a 
 1 one even- 
 
 ike over at 
 something 
 
 but just be 
 shall have 
 just what 
 
 ^ou cry be- 
 
i 
 
 ValuabU Aid. ^ 
 
 cause I was so ungrateful ?" the poor child said, 
 when she saw her mother struggling to hold back 
 the tears that would come in spite o£ all her 
 efforts. Robbie's arms were about her in an 
 
 instant 
 
 « Oh. mother, you don't think we care what we 
 cat so you are with u.. You think that I shall 
 be able to make you comforUble some day. don't 
 
 you. mother ? " 
 
 There was a painful uncertainty in his voice. 
 He wondered, could his mother think that, after 
 all. they must separate or starve? Surely every- 
 thing looked dark enough just then; but the 
 crops would soon be ripe, and the pig fattened, 
 and Whiti^face paid for. As he told all these 
 facts, he was trying to argue away to himself, as 
 well as his mother, the fears that of late would 
 haunt him. The meal barrel so soon emptied 
 itself, and then there was the wheat flour, which 
 was stUl more discouraging, because of the 
 greater expense in replenishing. 
 
 How longingly he thought of the great flour 
 
RobHt Meredith, 
 
 warehouses in the city ; wondering, If the nier- 
 chants knew of the hard struggle going on in 
 their home to keep the wolf from the door, would 
 not they write and send them their summer's 
 
 bread ? 
 
 A day or two after this, Mrs. Meredith sadly 
 announced to Robbie that their flour was all 
 
 gone. 
 
 •? I had scarcely enough to complete this 
 week's baking. What we shall do for the next 
 few weeks, I cannot think." 
 
 " Shall we not try for credit, mother ? I know 
 Mr. Smith at the corner would trust us for one 
 
 barrel." 
 
 " Yes, Robbie, and then a debt of nine dollars 
 would be hanging over us." 
 
 " We have the cows, mother. In a little while 
 White-face will be paid for, and then you can pay 
 for the flour." 
 
 •' I fear, Robbie, we have done wrong by keep- 
 ing together; we should all have fared better 
 separately." . 
 
 
 '^'^^^KI^^SS^^- - 
 
f 
 
 ValuabU Aid, 
 
 )t 
 
 f the nier- 
 
 >ing on in 
 
 loor, would 
 
 summer's 
 
 >dith sadly 
 ur was all 
 
 iplete this 
 9r the next 
 
 r ? I know 
 > us for one 
 
 nine dollars 
 
 I little while 
 jrou can pay 
 
 ng by keep* 
 Eared better 
 
 " Why, mother, what could May have done ? " 
 " Some one would have taken us together; my 
 
 ^ork, with the little she could do, would have . 
 
 earned us comforublc £pod, and something to 
 
 wear/' 
 
 "Oh, mother, won't you try to bear our pov- 
 erty bravely a little longer ? I am wre we will ' 
 soon see better days." 
 
 The mother looked for an instant in those 
 pleading, eloquent eyes. Two great tears were 
 standing ready to fall, but he kept them bravely 
 back, ashamed that he. their bread winner. 
 
 should be so weak. 
 His mother said: 
 
 ..Forgive me. Robbie, for my seeming impar 
 tience. It is not of myself I am thinking. I 
 would gladly live on a crust to have my children 
 with me; but it nearly breaks my heart to see 
 you working so hard on this poor food." 
 
 "It would be harder for me to be separated 
 from my mother," he said, gently. 
 
 ..We will all make the best of our privations, 
 
 1^ 
 
s« 
 
 RobUt Mtrtdith. 
 
 then, my children." Mrs. Meredith replied ; •• and 
 trust in our heavenly Father to bring us safely 
 through this season of adversity. 'At the worst.' 
 as Robbie said a good while ago, ' we need not 
 starve.* " 
 
f^sPSSHSiwliaiwlX nAi.. 
 
 MMHRil 
 
 eplied ; " and 
 ing us safely 
 it the worst,' 
 we need not 
 
 R. SMITH'S store was about two miles 
 from the Merediths. 
 That evening Robbie left o£E work earlier than 
 usual, and dressing himself, he started on his er- 
 rand. He did not tell his mother what his busi- 
 ness was, merely asking permission to go over to 
 the Corner, which was readily granted. It was 
 so seldom he seemed to wish for any amusement 
 she was glad to hear him make the request 
 With all her anxieties, not the least one was see- 
 ing the early gravity that seemed settling over 
 her once fun-loving boy. 
 
 ■!#, 
 
i 
 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 ' 
 
 
 
 Robbie Meredith. 
 
 It was with much fear and trembling that 
 Robbie walked along the quiet road towards the 
 more thickly settled part of their quiet hamlet, 
 that constituted the nucleus of a future town, 
 which was now only designated by the humble 
 
 name of " Comer." 
 
 Among the various store-keepers, his principal 
 hope for help lay in Mr. Smith ; they had usually 
 dealt with him, and Robbie knew that heretofore 
 but little credit had been asked ; his mother pre- 
 ferring to suffer for those necessaries of life 
 which she could not immediately pay for. 
 
 The store was full when he went in ; too late 
 he recollected that evening was the time when 
 loungers were most plentiful about the counters ; 
 but the walk was too long for him to be fright- 
 ened away from doing his business with the mer- 
 chant, so he waited his turn with Mr. Smith. 
 
 The honest lad could not help fearing a little, 
 as he saw that some who had come in after him- 
 self were served first. He could not fail to com- 
 prehend the reason. The appearance of the cus- 
 
 Hi 
 
Credit. 
 
 3S 
 
 bling that 
 awards the 
 let hamlet, 
 ture town, 
 he humble 
 
 is principal 
 had usually 
 t heretofore 
 mother pre- 
 ries of life 
 
 for. 
 
 in ; too late 
 ! time when 
 le counters ; 
 
 to be f right- 
 vith the mer- 
 ■, Smith, 
 aring a little, 
 
 in after him- 
 >t fail to com- 
 ce of the cus- 
 
 tomers betokened wealth ; the daintily dressed 
 ladies with the little girl and boy must be the 
 grand folks who had come to stay a few weeks ai: 
 Squire Jennings', during the strawberry season, 
 and of whom Nancy had been telling them so 
 much. 
 
 Such quantities of candies as they bought, 
 how much he coveted just a taste to take home 
 to Helen and Maryl His longing must have 
 been strongly expressed in his eyes, for the girl 
 happening to look at him whispered to her 
 brother, and a minute after came and offered him 
 a handful, which she poured from the open 
 paper. 
 
 " Thank you," he said, softly, but his face ex- 
 pressed more eloquent thanks than his lips could 
 frame. "He looked shyly in the face of the little 
 maiden ; was it the glow of momentary benevo- 
 lence on her face, or was it the innate goodness 
 that always shone there ? He did not wait to 
 analyze the expression, but then and there gave 
 her the silent and humble,, yet lasting devotion of 
 
I 
 
 Robiie Meredith. 
 
 his boyish heart; a moment after the party left 
 the store. It seemed to Robbie one of the num- 
 ber had left a ray of sunshine behind that lighted 
 him aU the way home, while its brightness re- 
 mained with him for weeks. 
 
 His turn to be served came next, and with a 
 beating heart Robbie stepped up to the counter, 
 when Mr. Smith said: 
 
 " Well, my boy, what do you wish ? " 
 The words were not unkindly spoken, but 
 there was a sharp ring in the voice that spoke of 
 a selfish nature, and which made the sensitive 
 
 lad still more shy. 
 
 "Could you let my mother have a barrel of 
 
 flour a few weeks on credit ? " 
 «♦ Who is your mother ? *' 
 "Mrs. Meredith, at the Dale farm." 
 "Really, my boy, I don't care to trust her; 
 
 not but that she has always paid me. but the last 
 
 time I saw her she looked as if she would hardly 
 
 outlast a barrel of flour." 
 A flush of anger and misery spread over the 
 
 boy's face as he said : 
 
 Eissass^Sii 
 
Credit. 
 
 37 
 
 eredith. 
 
 ent after the party left 
 Robbie one of the num- 
 line behind that lighted 
 while its brightness re- 
 
 ks. 
 
 came next, and with a 
 jpped up to the counter, 
 
 do you wish ? " 
 t unkindly spoken, but 
 n the voice that spoke of 
 hich made the sensitive 
 
 mother have a barrel of 
 edit?" 
 r?" 
 
 le Dale farm." 
 don't care to trust her; 
 ways paid me, but the last 
 ked as if she would hardly 
 
 r." 
 
 id misery spread over the 
 
 "There will be enough left to pay you. sir." 
 
 " I don't doubt that, but times are hard, and I 
 might have so long to wait, the interest would 
 swallow up the principal." 
 
 "Don't be too hard on the boy, Smith," a 
 rough voice spoke from the back store, and as 
 Robbie looked up he saw a large, red-whiskered 
 man coming towards them. He knew then it 
 was Mr. Smith's partner, and his hopes began 
 instantly to rise. 
 
 " Let him have a barrel of flour, or you will be 
 getting the widow's curse, man. I wish all our 
 customers were as honest and safe as that boy's 
 
 mother." 
 
 " Thank you, sir," Robbie gasped, and then he 
 shut his mouth firmly for fear he might say 
 something tragic. 
 
 "Very well, you can have your own way, but 
 you may see to collecting it." 
 
 " All right," was the good-humored reply of 
 Phalen, the kind-hearted Irishman, whose^ ready 
 tact and obliging disposition had already won 
 
 a^*" ■ .-*-i-->^r-.'.v:^t"i^ 
 
■ •t^ik<t*t.^f'!V¥a^l*m,--»f 
 
 Robbie Meredith. 
 
 him a good situation in America, whither he had 
 come only a few years previously, with pockets 
 innocent of a single shilling. 
 
 «Tell your mother she can pay in butter or 
 anything most convenient, and she needn't hurry 
 
 herself, either." 
 
 "Thank you, sir." This was all the thanks 
 Robbie could manage to utter, but Phalen was 
 satisfied, however, with that slight expression of 
 gratitude, as he saw the quivering lip and glisten- 
 ing eye of the scarcely more than chUd to whom 
 be had lent the helping hand. 
 
 Robbie started for home, calling on his way at 
 farmer Williams' to ask if he would let his team 
 bring it down when next they were up on busi- 
 ness to the Corner. 
 
 « One of the hands is going up to-morrow 
 with a load of meat, and he shall bring it down 
 in the empty cart," the farmer replied, so that 
 Robbie was able to go rejoicing home. 
 
 His mother was getting uneasy about him, it 
 was so unusual for Robbie to be gone so long. 
 
tredith. 
 
 merica» whither he had 
 reviously, with pockets 
 
 J can pay in butter or 
 , and she needn't hurry 
 
 lis was all the thanks 
 » utter, but Phalen was 
 hat slight expression of 
 [uivering lip and glisten- 
 lore than child to whom 
 land. 
 
 ne, calling on his way at 
 £ he would let his team 
 :t they were up on busi- 
 
 is going up to-morrow 
 I he shall bring it down 
 ; farmer replied, so that 
 ejoicing home. 
 ;ing uneasy about him, it 
 bie to be gone so long. 
 
 Credit. 
 
 39 
 
 Helen and Mary were both up with their 
 mother, and their pleasure was quite unbounded 
 when Robbie came bursting into the room, with 
 the good news that at least one barrel of flour 
 was sure, and with the additional luxury of some 
 candy for each. Mary was more overjoyed with * 
 that than with the flour that was to come on the 
 morrow. Robbie tried to divide the candy 
 equally with his mother and sisters, leaving no 
 share for himself. 
 
 "Why, Robbie, where is yours?" Helen 
 
 asked. 
 
 « It was pleasure enough for me to bring it to 
 you, and to have it given to me by the dear little 
 child," he said, rather loftily. 
 
 « We can't let you be so easily satisfled, Rob- 
 bie ; you must take my share. I lost my fond- 
 ness for sweetmeats long ago," his mother said, 
 as she laid her share in his hands. 
 
 " Let us have it between us, then, mother," he 
 said, casting a hungry look at the tempting bite. 
 
 "Very well, dear," she said, but she managed 
 it so that he got nearly all. 
 
 1 
 
Robbie Meredith. 
 
 The next Jay Robbie had the pleasure of roll- 
 ing the flour in to his mother. He dispensed 
 with the tnan's help who had offered to take it 
 in, and independently replied : 
 " No, thank you, I can manage it mystilf." 
 But it was quite too much for his unaided 
 strength, and his mother and even Helen had to 
 be called to the rescue before it was safely stored 
 away in the pantry. 
 
 " Never mind, mother, after we have got a few 
 more in here, I shall be able to do without your 
 help," he said, encouragingly, as he ruefully 
 watched 'her panting after the unusual exertion. 
 
 "I know that, my son, if you don't kill yourself 
 in the meantime," she smilingly answered. 
 
 . And 80 the gladsome sunny days of midsum- 
 mer wore on. White-face gave her generous 
 supply of milk. The scent of clover blossoms 
 from farmer Williams' rich meadow lands helped 
 her, Robbie thought, to overflow the bucket with 
 her foamy offering, while Blossom, too, seemed 
 to thrive better for her companionship. 
 
 "{ I l l ' J ijjy 
 
eredith. 
 
 id the pleasure of roll- 
 nother. He dispensed 
 ) had offered to take it 
 lied : 
 
 manage it mystilf ." 
 much for his unaided 
 and even Helen had to 
 fore it was safely stored 
 
 after we have got a few 
 able to do without your 
 igingly, as he ruefully 
 ir the unusual exertion, 
 if you don't kill yourself 
 nilingly answered, 
 sunny days of midsum- 
 Eace gave her generous 
 cent of clover blossoms 
 ich meadow lands helped 
 overflow the bucket with 
 ile Blossom, too, seemed 
 companionship. 
 
 Crtdit. 
 
 
 
 White-face was so nearly paid for now that 
 Mrs. Meredith ventured, the next week, on send- 
 ing Robbie to the Comer with a load of butter 
 and eggs as a first payment on their new debt 
 
 The evening was fair, with the moon just ris- 
 ing as he left home. His mother and Helen ac- 
 companied him part of the way to assist in carry- 
 ing the basket, Helen eagerly pleading to go all 
 the way, but her suit was denied by Robbie. 
 
 •• 1 should be ashamed," he said, " to take my 
 litUe sister on such an errand. The boys would 
 laiigh at me if they saw her carrying this bas- 
 ket" 
 
 His mother and Helen i^ad scarcely got out of 
 sight, by the bend of the road, on their way home 
 again, when a handsome carriage and pair of 
 horses came driving leisurely along the road. 
 
 Robbie changed his basket to the other hand, 
 and stepped aside on the greensward for them to 
 
 pass. 
 
 The scent of flowers filled the air, already vi- 
 brating with the songs of the robin, and linnet. 
 
 ■ «*< 
 
 wn" 
 
Robbit Miredith. 
 
 and others of the feathered warb'ers, pouring 
 forth their strangely sweet vespers to a generally 
 inattentive audience of busy farmers, with equally 
 industrious families; but to-night, the crowded 
 carriage had brought out those whose ears and 
 hearts were alike open to the delights of the 
 beautiful country, whether animate or otherwise. 
 Robbie was glad to see, among the brightly 
 dressed people, the little golden-haired girl that 
 had so thoughtfully remembered him ia the 
 store. He lifted his hat politely; his mother's 
 careful training had kept all the booris^ness out 
 of his manners, that hard work and common 
 play-fellows would naturally give him, and he war 
 glad to see that his simple act of courtesy had 
 not passed unnoticed. 
 
 More than one gracious smile responded to his 
 bow, while there was a particularly kindly look 
 from the little girl upon whom his eyes were un- 
 consciously fastened. 
 
 A moment after they had passed out of sight ; 
 but, somehow, Robbie felt his basket grow 
 
Uth. 
 
 I warb'ers, pouring 
 jspers to a generally 
 iarmers, with equally 
 ^night, the crowded 
 hose whose ears and 
 the delights of the 
 uiimate or otherwise, 
 among the brightly 
 olden-haired girl that 
 mbered him ia the 
 )olitely; his mother's 
 
 II the booris^ness out 
 I work and common 
 r give him, and he war. 
 s act of courtesy had 
 
 smile responded to his 
 irticularly kindly look 
 hom his eyes were un- 
 
 Cndit. 
 
 43 
 
 id passed out of sight ; 
 Eelt his basket grow 
 
 lighter, and the road seemed le«i hot and dusty. 
 The moon, too, was beginning' to shine more 
 clearly along the way. as the twUight glow faded 
 from sky and river. Almost before he was think- 
 ing of finding his basket burdensome, Mr. Smith's 
 store was in sight, and with a heart far lighter, if 
 his load were heavier, than on the previous even- 
 ing. when he stepped so timidly across the foot- 
 worn threshol(f, he entered, feeling himseU already 
 almost a man as he placed his basket on the 
 
 counter. 
 
 This time his turn to be waited on came sooner 
 than before. Phalen's quiet eye caught sight of 
 the lad whose cause he had so warmly espoused, 
 and glad to see so early an installment on the 
 debt, he went to him speaking kindly, while his 
 genial Irish face was lighted up with a bcnevo- 
 
 lent smile. 
 
 The butter was duly weighed, the eggs counted, 
 and the credit placed opposite his mother's name 
 on the book, when Phalen said : 
 
 " Your bill has come down two dollars and a 
 
 J 
 
JRobM* Mertdith. 
 
 half, already. Smith wUl find my customers are 
 the best pay going." 
 
 When farmer Williams' man came for Robbie's 
 flour, he had told Phalen of the struggle the Mer- 
 ediths had to keep the home together, and the 
 generous fellow felt his heart warming towards 
 the noble boy, whom he was glad to help. Every 
 other week Robbie went to the store with his 
 butter and eggs until White-face was paid for, 
 and after that the weekly offering was deposited 
 regularly in Phalen's hands. 
 
 New entries were made on the debit side of 
 the book against Mrs. Meredith, but the credit 
 side kept pace steadily with the debit Then 
 Robbie felt, after a fresh supply of flour had been 
 laid in, with the few other necessary articles his 
 mother hud commissioned him to purchase, that 
 an occasional investment in some little luxury for 
 her use was warrantable. It was after this that 
 he rarely returned with an empty basket ; but 
 his mother could not tell her boy to cease mak- 
 ing his purchases. She always shared such deli- 
 
dith. 
 
 id my customers are 
 
 an came for Robbie's 
 the struggle the Mer- 
 ne together, and the 
 art warming towards 
 glad to help. Every 
 to the store with his 
 ite-face was paid for, 
 iffering was deposited 
 
 on the debit side of 
 
 redith, but the credit 
 
 ith the debit Then 
 
 ipply of flour had been 
 
 necessary articles his 
 
 him to purchase, that 
 
 1 some little luxury for 
 
 It was after this that 
 
 n empty basket ; but 
 
 her boy to cease roak- 
 
 iways shared such deli- 
 
 Crtdii. 
 
 4S 
 
 cacies with her children, and felt assured that the 
 small outlay would be amply repaid in strength- 
 ening her boy for his daily labors, which, after 
 the hay was stored, became lighter. It was none 
 too soon, either, that relief shoulu come; the 
 long summer's work and anxiety had told heavily 
 on Robbie's slight frame. 
 
 His form, naturally erect and well made, was 
 getting a painful stoop, and .he could not see that 
 he had grown an inch since spring. 
 
 One rainy day as they were sitting ia the clean 
 comfortable kitchen, busily engaged knitting 
 socks for market, with Robbie reading aloud to 
 them, Mrs. Meredith interrupted him by saying: 
 « Don't you think, Robbie, we could afford to 
 hire a man to help us in harvesting? It is too 
 hard work for you to do alone, and we must not 
 expect any further help from our neighbors." 
 
 « But we must remember the long winter," 
 Robbie said, thoughtfully. 
 « I do, my son, it is not out of my thoughts 
 
 many hours at a time." 
 
 J 
 
4< Robbit Mtrtdith, 
 
 " Well, mother, if we can't get on alone, rather 
 than have the crops injured, I will be willing to 
 hire a man ; but I should like to do what I can 
 myself, it will be so much clear gain." 
 
 " Yes, Robbie, of money, but I fear not of 
 your health. We can all help in gathering the 
 rootfc ; even Mary can pick up potatoes," As 
 she sp^ike the mother stroked the flaxen hair that 
 was so apt to get such tiresome tangles. 
 
 They did all work diligently from dawn till 
 dusk, but even then they could not perform all 
 the work that was awaiting a speedy accomplish- 
 ment, and Robbie was beginning to acknowledge 
 the fact sadly to himself, as he looked over the 
 rapidly ripening grain fields, and the dry stalks 
 of the early blighted potatoes. 
 
 But every cent seemed to have two ways it 
 needed to go ; and, alas, their cents were so ter- 
 ribly few, and then a man's wages, even for one 
 day, would cost so much. 
 
 One morning Robbie attempted to rise early 
 • as usual, but as he lifted his head from the pil- 
 
tditk. 
 
 t get on alone, rather 
 d, I will be willing to 
 like to do what I can 
 lear gain." 
 
 y, but I fear not of 
 help in gathering the 
 k up potatoes," As 
 d the flaxen hair that 
 >me tangles, 
 intly from dawn till 
 ould not perform all 
 a -speedy accomplish- 
 in ing to acknowledge 
 he looked over the 
 i, and the dry stalks 
 s. 
 
 have two ways it 
 ir cents were so ter- 
 wages, even for one 
 
 srapted to rise early 
 s head from the pil- 
 
 Crtdit. 
 
 47 
 
 low, a dizzy sensation came over him, and he was 
 forced to lie down. 
 
 It was so bard. Just then, he felt, to be sick. 
 The Uttle stiip of wheat which had been his 
 pride and hope all through the summer discour- 
 agements had been cut two days before. He and 
 Nancy had managed to reap it between them, 
 it must be confessed Nancy doing much the 
 larger share, and to^ay he bad planned to get it 
 turned, and perhaps housed, if the day were hot 
 enough. 
 
 He lay a uile and then made another attempt, 
 but it was unavailing ; his head swam so that he 
 feared to trust himself to take a step. Soon he 
 heard his mother's step on the stair ; he brushed 
 away the tears that, in spite of himself, had been 
 gathering in his eyes. 
 
 " Is Robbie sick ? " she asked, cheerily. 
 
 " Just a little; mother, but I shall be able to 
 get down-stairs by and by." 
 
 " What is the matter ? " was the anxious en- 
 quiry. She knew it must be something unusual 
 
 Ki 
 
fhtisn 
 
 48 
 
 Robbie Meredith. 
 
 or he would not lie in bed this day that he con- 
 siufcfed so important 
 
 " It is only my head that troubles me ; I must 
 have worked too hard to keep up with Nancy. 
 What shall we do if I can't get up ?" he abked, 
 piteously. 
 
 After all he was only a boy, and he could not 
 hide all his fears, even from his mother. 
 
 " If you only get well, Robbie, we won't mind 
 the wheat. I ought not to have allo;yed you to 
 work so hard. Oh, what shall I do if you leave 
 me?" 
 
 " You needn't "be afraid for me, mother, I am 
 only tired. I have no mind to die just now, and 
 leave you. In an hour or two you will see me as 
 busy at work as ever." 
 
 The mother shook her head sadly as she 
 bathed his hot feverish head. While they were 
 talking together over their dark future, and won- 
 dering where they could turn for help, Helen 
 came rushing up-stairs, with the glad news that 
 there were three rata, down-stairs come to help 
 them. 
 
Credit. 
 
 49 
 
 ay that he con- 
 es me ; I must 
 ip with Nancy, 
 jp ? " he abked, 
 
 td he could not 
 
 other. 
 
 we won't mind 
 
 allo;yed you to 
 
 do if you leave 
 
 e, mother, I am 
 ie just now, and 
 11 will see me as 
 
 sadly as she 
 /hile they were 
 iuture, and won- 
 :cr help, Helen 
 glad news that 
 rs come to help 
 
 "You said, mother, that God world provide," 
 Robbie said, reverently, as he turned his bright- 
 ened face toward her. 
 
 " Yes, my son, and we must never doubt his 
 goodness again, no matter how dreary our pros- 
 pects may be." 
 
 As she was leaving the room Robbie called 
 her back. " Tell them, mother, that our Father 
 in heaven will reward them, some day." 
 
 "I will tell them, Robbie," she replied, and 
 then hastily left the room. A moment after he 
 heard, thrcagh the thin partition that separated 
 his mother's bed-room from the one he occupied, 
 her voice in prayer. He could not distinguish 
 the words, but he felt assured it was thanksgiving 
 his mother was offering for mercies given. 
 
 It was not long after his mother had gone 
 down-stairs, until Helen came up with the glad 
 tidings that the men had gone to the wheat field, 
 and then she brought the still better news that 
 they expected to get the harvest all stored that 
 day. 
 
 r*^ 
 
 J 
 
I 
 
 Rcidie Mtreditk. 
 
 " And, O, Robbie," she added, " I aaw a tear 
 in Ben's eyes when mother told them what you 
 said; he says he don't want any better pay. 
 Wasn't that good for him to say ? " 
 
 Robbie did not make any reply, he turned his 
 face to the wall, and Helen could not think that 
 he was crying. 
 
 "Maybe you want to go to sleef.?" she said, 
 after vainly waiting for an answer. 
 
 "I would like to be alone awhile," he said, 
 bravely trying to steady his voice. 
 
 Stealing quietly out she went with a frightened 
 face to her mother. 
 
 " Can't we send for a doctor, mother ? I am 
 afra.d Robbie is going to die." 
 
 The happy look faded from the mother's face 
 as she asked : 
 
 " What makes you tliink so, Helen ? " 
 
 " He seems so quiet, and then he didn't appear 
 a bit glad that they have come." 
 
 " Robbie does not show all he feels, and maybe 
 it was his very gladness and gratitude that kept 
 him from talking." 
 
 i 
 
k. 
 
 d, " I 3aw a tear 
 
 d them what you 
 
 any better pay. 
 
 ply, he turned his 
 lid not think that 
 
 ileep?" she said, 
 ter. 
 
 awhile," he said, 
 ce. 
 
 with a frightened 
 
 9r, mother ? I am 
 
 the mother's face 
 
 Helen?" 
 
 n he didn't appear 
 
 n 
 
 e feels, and maybe 
 gratitude that kept 
 
 ! I 
 
 Credit. 
 
 51 
 
 " I did not know that to feel glad made us cry, 
 and I am almost sure he was crying," she replied, 
 more mystified than ever. 
 
 That night their harvesting was completed, 
 and when Mrs. Meredith went tc ly good-night 
 to Robbie, he said to her, half shyly : 
 
 " Might not we thank our heavenly Father for 
 putting it into their hearts to come and work for 
 us to-uay, mother ? " 
 
 " Wm you thank him, Robbie ? " she replied, 
 at the same time kueeling beside him, her exam- 
 ple silently followed by Helen and Mary, who 
 exchanged wondering glances. 
 
 A moment'." silence ensued, and thci in tram- 
 bling voice Robbie uttered his few words of thank- 
 fulness for all God's mercies, particularly for the 
 blessing that had crowned that day with glad- 
 ness, and then fervently implored God's protect- 
 ing care for the whole journey of life, and that 
 they might at last become a family complete in 
 heaven. He ended by repeating " Our Father." 
 A silence ensued in which the children believed 
 they could hear their mother weeping. 
 
 IWISE*! 
 
 J 
 
;f 
 
 ) 
 
 " Shall I ask her why she cries ?*' Mary whis- 
 pered to Helen. * 
 
 "Hush, dear," was the softly whispered re- 
 sponse. As Helen raised her head, Mary won- 
 dered as she saw that her sister, too, was crying. 
 Soon the loving good-night was spoken^ and 
 Robbie was left alone with the silent compan- 
 ionship of the stars. The harvest moon he knew 
 was somewhere shining among the trees, al- 
 though unseen by him ; it was only the brighter 
 constellations he could distinguish in the far 
 northern heavens. 
 
 Peaceful, happy thoughts filled his heart, as he 
 lay on his lowly cot ; he could feel now that the 
 Saviour whom he had been earnestly seeking 
 was his friend. That very day, alone in his 
 room, he believed the word of pardon had been 
 spoken to his soul, while in his prayer that even- 
 ing a partial acknowledgment had been made. 
 The joy he felt was so deep, the peace so unut- 
 terable, that long after the hush of night had 
 fallen over field and forest, his thoughts were 
 
 •t,,,,..;». 
 
es ? •' Mary whis- 
 
 tly whispered re- 
 head, Mary won- 
 r, too, was crying, 
 was spoken; and 
 le silent compan- 
 est moon he knew 
 ng the trees, al- 
 only the brighter 
 iguish in the far 
 
 • 
 
 ed his heart, as he 
 feel now that the 
 earnestly seeking 
 day, alone in his 
 pardon had been 
 i prayer that even- 
 t had been made. 
 the peace so unut- 
 lush of night had 
 his thoughts were 
 
 Crtdit. 
 
 S3 
 
 still busy in planning what he might do to ex- 
 press his gratitude to his newly found Redeemer. 
 No wonder the calm was sweet, coming as it 
 did after the tempest, through which his frail 
 bark had been wearily tossing in its conflict with 
 the powers of darkness that had assailed his soul 
 
 irasnnanaMHaPMl 
 
 1 
 
' if 
 
 t*=>*V 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 AT SCHOOL. 
 
 JAYS glided swiftly on. In a few days 
 Robbie was as well as usual — even bet- 
 ter, for the rest his, mother compelled him to 
 take left him better able to begin his school du- 
 ties. 
 
 When all his work had been completed for the 
 autumn, the last root safely stored in the cellar, 
 the house earthed about, so as to keep, as far as 
 possible, Jack Frost's saucy fingers away, with 
 the other preparations which every country 
 householder finds necessary to perform in our 
 cold climate,— when these had been completed, 
 Robbie began to think anxiously of his vacant 
 seat in the red school-house away over the hills. 
 
 A 
 
J. 
 
 In a few days 
 usual — even bet- 
 impelled him to 
 in his school du- 
 
 lompleted for the 
 ed in the cellar, 
 o keep, as far as 
 igers away, with 
 every country 
 perform in our 
 been completed, 
 ly of his vacant 
 y over the hills. 
 
 At School. 
 
 55 
 
 To be sure, it was a long, cold walk in the pinch- 
 ing winter days, but the same energy that ena- 
 bled him to perform a work in the grain and 
 potato field that was the admiration, and perhaps 
 envy, of every parent farmer in all the country 
 side, made him equally energetic in getting what 
 knowledge it was possible for him to gain. 
 
 " I never expect to be anything better than a 
 farmer," he explained to his mother, as he urged 
 eagerly his request for directly beginning his 
 studies, before taking what she deemed the 
 needed rest, " but then I want to be an intelli- 
 gent one. I can be a great deal better fitted for 
 even that work by knowing everything I can find 
 time to learn, and, besides, my winters are get- 
 ting so sadly few for school going," he added, 
 somewhat ruefully. ' 
 
 " I know that, Robbie, but they will be still 
 less if you work yourself into your grave before 
 your time."' 
 
 " Is it good to be always talking about the 
 grave, mother? I hope I don't fear it now," he 
 
 J!^ 
 
I- 
 
 I 
 
 l! 
 
 t 
 
 
 I 
 
 
 Roitu Mtrtdith. ' 
 
 said, reverently ; " but tlien, I do not want to 
 think that every little breath of wind may thrust 
 me into it." 
 
 He soon carried his point, and the next Mon- 
 day morning, bright and early, he was up per- 
 forming his tasks so cheerily that his mother 
 wondered did he love knowledge so well, pitying 
 him his few opportunities for gaining it. 
 
 Helen was to accompany him on fine days, 
 before the severe weather set in and the deep 
 snows came. Fully an hour earlier than was 
 necessary, they were ready to start, and the boy- 
 ish impatience that had not been wholly crushed 
 out by hard work forced him to urge the tardy 
 Helen along as well 
 
 " ^aybe I can find where the morning's lesson 
 is and get mine learned before the school opens," 
 he said to his mother; he was ashamed to let her 
 know how eager he was to be back among his 
 books. 
 
 A new teacher had taken the place of " Irish 
 Tiir," as he was irreverently styled by hi" pupils, 
 
 ' ^^ I -V^ 
 
i. ■ 
 
 do not want to 
 wind may thrust 
 
 id the next Man- 
 he was up per- 
 that his mother 
 e so well, pitying 
 ining it. 
 
 m on fine days, 
 in and the deep 
 earlier than was 
 tart, and the boy- 
 in wholly crushed 
 to urge the tardy 
 
 morning's lesson 
 he school opens," 
 shamed to let her 
 
 back among his 
 
 e place of " Irish 
 /led by hi? pupils, 
 
 At School. 
 
 §7 
 
 who had been teacher there for years. His day 
 was now gone by, and ill as it was for himself, it 
 was none too soon for the little flock whom he 
 ignorantly tried to instruct 
 
 His successor, although but an indifferent 
 scholar, was regarded by his .children, and Rob- 
 bie among the foremost, as a pattern of perfec- 
 tion. 
 
 He was a young man of obscure parentage, 
 but of an ambitious turn of mind, and quite ain- 
 timental withal, who had once thought to be a 
 teacher would satisfy the deepest craving of his 
 heart, but who had already found, when only in 
 the third term of his longed-for employment, that 
 there were other heights beyond for which he 
 ardently sighed. 
 
 . To be a city lawyer was the thought and aim 
 that now occupied nearly every waking moment, 
 and so filled with the idea had his brain become 
 that he found it necessaiy to unveil to even un- 
 sympathizing eyes the dream that had taken pos- 
 session of him. 
 
 ..t* 
 
I I 
 
 5« 
 
 Roi6u Mtrtdith. 
 
 In Robbie he found an attentive listener ; al* 
 lowitig no such brilliant hopes to take possession 
 of his fancy, knowing how vain it would be (or 
 him to think of getting more than the plainest 
 education, with his mother and sisters to sup- 
 port ; but it did not lessen the pleasure he took 
 in listening to his friendly teacher's brilliant an- 
 ticipations. 
 
 " It will be so grand a calling to give justice to 
 the poor," Robbie said one day after listening to 
 his companion's expected greatness. " I have 
 thought sometimes I should like to be a lawyer, 
 or minister, or something, so that I could help 
 others ; after knowing so well what a sad thing 
 it is to be poor and weak, I think I could do so 
 better." 
 
 "I want to be rich to be happy myself; I 
 never thought much about what I could do for 
 others," was the selfish response. 
 
 " Maybe you have never known how blessed it 
 was to receive a helping hand in some sore time 
 of need," Robbie said, with a scarcely concealed 
 
At School. 
 
 S9 
 
 ve listener; al* 
 take possession 
 it would be (or 
 an the plainest 
 sisters to sup- 
 leasurc he took 
 r's brilliant an* 
 
 3 give justice to 
 fter listening to 
 less. " I have 
 I to be a lawyer, 
 It I could help 
 hat a sad thing 
 k I could do so 
 
 ippy myself; I 
 t I could do for 
 
 (1 how blessed it 
 
 some sore time 
 
 urcely concealed 
 
 shudder, as he thought how many times the wolf 
 had been turned from their doors by a neigh- 
 bor's hand. 
 
 "Well, yes, I have needed help as much as 
 most persons at my age, and have had it from 
 very unexpected sources, too; but someway I 
 never think of others as being in like circum- 
 stances with me, besides, I can't find time to look 
 after everyone." 
 
 '• I cannot, cither, I can only help my mother ; 
 but what I do for her makes me so happy I wish 
 sometimes I could extend the circle of my help- 
 fulness. I am sure the Bible speaks truly when 
 it says, ' It is more blessed to give than to re- 
 ceive. 
 
 Robbie was afraid to say anything further lest 
 his teacher might think him intrusive ; he could 
 only hope that he might soon learn this first les- 
 son in the Christian life, the duty of not living to 
 ourselves alone. 
 
 The school-days went happily by ; Robbie did 
 not find it difficult to attend White-face and 
 
 -,{SSP»-- 
 
HHHHMIBi 
 
 ' I 
 
 60 
 
 Robbi* Miftditk. 
 
 Blossom, bringing to his mother their daily offer- 
 ing, which hitherto had gone so far towards mak- 
 ing them easy in their straitened finances. Now 
 the basket he carried to Phalen at the Comer be- 
 came every weel; lighter to bear, and a little be- 
 fore Christmas his mother made the sad an- 
 nouncement that once a fortnight at most would 
 suffice for him to go. 
 
 Fortunately they were free of debt; White- 
 face was paid for and the account-book at the 
 Corner at least showed no debit against them ; 
 indeed Phalen had told Robbie on his last trip 
 there that the credit was crossing to the other 
 side the book ; but then there was but a small 
 supply of flour in the little kitchen pantry, and as 
 for groceries they were becoming sadly precious 
 in the frugal mother's eyes; however, a good 
 cellar of potatoes, with other vegetables, were 
 hidden away from Jack Frost's icy fingers, while 
 Mary's pink-eyed piggy, long ago outgrown from 
 her cleanly affections, was silently curing in the 
 pork barrel up-stairs. 
 
beir daily offer- 
 r towards male- 
 inances. Now 
 the Comer be- 
 and a little be- 
 e the sad an- 
 at most would 
 
 debt; White- 
 nt-book at the 
 against them ; 
 )n his last trip 
 g to the other 
 as but a small 
 t pantry, and as 
 
 sadly precious 
 )wever, a good 
 egetables, were 
 y fingers, while 
 outgrown from 
 y curing in the 
 
 Hi 
 
 At School. 
 
 dl 
 
 They could live without butter, and sugar, and 
 tea, Mrs. Meredith said over and over, reassur- 
 ingly to herself, as she daily took stock of their 
 slender winter store ; but it was hard to think of 
 being on allowance for bread, but Robbie would 
 •oon get their small grain crop to mill, now that 
 the farmers were getting their fall work done, 
 and could lend him a hand in thrashing it, and 
 which with economy might be made to last two 
 or three months, and then she resolved not to 
 think of the long hungry spring. The Lprd 
 would provide someway. The fulness of the 
 whole earth was his, while the widow and orphan 
 were his especial care. 
 
 Robbie could not help wondering at the peace- 
 ful gladness that shone so constantly now in his 
 mother's face. His own faith was so strong in 
 his new-found Father in heaven he could only 
 hopcit was from the same unfailing source his 
 mother found her strength. 
 
 It was not many weeks until Robbie regained 
 his place at the head of the different classes in 
 
 J 
 
 
['^M^:^mii;i)ii-l'iaii»:.^ j^da^iKM^M'i&'i^^y' 'ir-fi^isiii^.- 
 
 § 
 
 ■ 
 
 Ui 
 
 ■I 
 
 1 
 
 62 
 
 Robbie Meredith. 
 
 the school, much sooner, indeed, than he had ex- 
 pected. 
 
 So eager was his haste, and so ready his brain 
 for receiving knowledge, that before the winter 
 was nearly completed, his teacher found that he 
 was ahead, not only of his most advanced pupils, 
 but, what was not very agreeable to himself, that 
 he was rapidly approaching the terminus of his 
 own scan" supply of educational stock. The 
 greatest obstacle found in the way of study was 
 the short term of daylight when out pf school. 
 No matter how long before daylight his work 
 might begin, the inoment arrived only too soon 
 when he must leave for the school-house where 
 fresh duties uwaited him. 
 . Anxious to supplement their income by a few 
 dollars, he had assumed the task of lighting the 
 fires and keeping the school-room in order, a bur- 
 den that sometimes seemed heavy enough ^a he 
 trudged bravel)f along through cold and storm. 
 
 He had, it is true, long winter evenings at 
 hor.c when he might have studied, but candles 
 
eM»M»L^*a.0^imi 
 
 han he had ex- 
 
 ■eady his brain 
 
 ore the winter 
 
 found that he 
 
 Ivanced pupils, 
 
 himself, that 
 srminus of his 
 ,1 stock. The 
 r of study was 
 out gi school, 
 ight his work 
 
 only too soon 
 ol-house where 
 
 come by a few 
 
 1 lighting the 
 in order, a bur- 
 r enough fis he 
 1 and storm. 
 
 r evenings at 
 :d, but candles 
 
 At School. 
 
 63 
 
 and oil, like every other luxury except love, were 
 too scarce in their home to be used so lavishly. 
 
 The little mother and Helen could see to knit 
 by the open fire-light, while Robbie was obliged 
 to content himself with the same poor illumina- 
 tion, assisted only by the troublesome light ob- 
 tained from birch bark, large rolls of which he 
 hunted up every spare holiday. 
 
 Mary did not often weary with attending to his 
 quickly consuming light on the heai h, while he 
 lay beside her with book or slate eager to im- 
 prove each flickering gleam it afforded ; but the 
 dust man generally came around 6arly in the 
 evening, when she was unwillingly obliged to 
 yield to his power, so that Robbie often for 
 hours tended his bark while he iearned difficult 
 lessons and stern ones, too, of economy and per- 
 severence. The summer'.s training of self-reli- 
 ance was greatly stfengthened by the winter's 
 mastery of difficult lessons. 
 
 It was not text-book knowledge alone, or les- 
 sons of thrift, that he acquired by the evanescent 
 
 ^^-«!r«?-- 
 
Robbie Meredith, 
 
 light of pine knot or birch bark, at the quiet 
 hearthstone where his mother diligently plied her 
 needles, but what was even better than these, a 
 determined strength of will to overcome even the 
 most obstinate, and what might seem next to in- 
 surmountable, obstacles that lay in the way of his 
 advancement to a greatly desired goal. As his 
 mother watched him in the flickering light that 
 threw fantastic shadows along her humble kitchan 
 wall, it was not strange if she pictured for her 
 eager determined boy some bright future in the 
 great busy world that lay beyond the narrow 
 confines of their qiiiet village. 
 
 vmgffii 
 
at the quiet 
 fitly plied her 
 than these, a 
 ame even the 
 :m next to in- 
 he way of his 
 roal. As his 
 ng light that 
 imblekitchin 
 tured for her 
 future in the 
 I the narrow 
 
 .^tMMU 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 DEATH. 
 
 HE short' winter days slipped only too 
 quickly by to suit Robbie's heavily 
 planii^ list of studies to be accomplished before 
 the early seed-time should begin. He worked 
 hard, too hard his friends thought, but their fears 
 did not find an answering chord in his breast 
 It only made him study the harder while in the 
 school-room, that he might have the less to do at 
 home when he knew his mother was anxiously 
 watching him ; but when his home duties were 
 all completed, he found it a hard matter to gain 
 rest, or recreation in complete idleness. 
 He came in from the barn earlier than usual 
 
 J 
 
^•' 
 
 e6 
 
 Robbie Meredith. 
 
 one bright evening in the early part of March, 
 and, with a joyous ring in his voice that glad- 
 dened his mother's heart, exclaimed : 
 
 " Hurrah I I have finished my winter's stint." 
 
 " How so, Robbie ?" and the mother cast an 
 
 amused glance at the small supply of wood that 
 
 occupied the place of a generally rauch larger 
 
 heap. 
 
 " Oh, never mind the wood, mother, to-morrow 
 is Saturday, and I shall cut plenty of wood then, 
 but won't you be glad to hear that I have fin- 
 ished the stint I gave myself in my studies when 
 I began to go to school ? I was afraid then I 
 couldn't do it, but I've got it done," he exclaimed 
 with greater eagerness than elegance. 
 
 " I am glad you have accomplished what you 
 wished, but would it not be well for my son to 
 practice something that he learns, and make a 
 
 more careful selection of the words he uses ?" 
 " When I am happy I don't think how I speak, 
 
 and I do feel so glad to-night," and he threw him- 
 
 down on the settle bed, clasping his arms under 
 
 his bead for a pillow. 
 
Deatk. 
 
 ^ 
 
 y part of March, 
 voice that glad- 
 ned: 
 
 y winter's stint." 
 
 mother cast an 
 
 >ply of wood that 
 
 allyrauch larger 
 
 lother, to-morrow 
 ity of wood then, 
 that I have fin- 
 my studies when 
 as afraid then I 
 ne," he exclaimed 
 ranee. 
 
 iplished what you 
 ill for my son to 
 arns, and make a 
 >rdsheuses?" 
 hink how I speak, 
 tnd he threw him- 
 ig his arms under 
 
 " I am very glad for my son's happiness," and 
 the little mother smiled contentedly as she laid 
 the dishes on the snowy cloth, preparing for 
 their evening meal. 
 
 " It is not right to trouble about the future, 
 when I am so happy in the present ; but, oh, I 
 would so like to atudy for yeaT ; there are so 
 many things I should like to know. After I had 
 'finished my lessons to<lay in school, I took up 
 one book after another and looked through to the 
 end, and with the look there came a little pain to 
 think their secrets would always* remain a mys- 
 tery to me." 
 
 *' Maybe not always, Robbie." 
 
 •• Why, mother, what do you mean ? " 
 
 "Do you not think that in heaven all these 
 studies will be pursued by those who love 
 them?" 
 
 « I never thought of that" He paused, thought- 
 fully looking up at the bright sunset sky, and 
 then said, a slight flush mantling his cheek : 
 
 " If I get to heaven, maybe I won't care so 
 
 J 
 
68 
 
 Robbis Meredith. 
 
 I ' 
 
 mtich for the knowledge we think so much of on 
 earth, and maybe I let my heart get set too much 
 upon my studies while I think too little about a 
 better knowledge, that of the love of God." 
 
 « I have been thinking more about that lately, 
 Robbie, than ever I did before," his mother an- 
 swered softly, "and it seems to me all my anxie- 
 ties have grown lighter since I began casting 
 them on the Lord." 
 
 " I believe, mother, I have been losing ground 
 rather than gaining, lately ; any kind of prosper- 
 ity, I fear, must be injurious, and getting along 
 well in my studies is a kind of prosperity, I sup- 
 pose; besides, I find more things to try my pa- 
 tience at school. Some of the larger boys im- 
 pose on the rest of us. I do not mind so much 
 for myself, but there is lame Peter, some of the 
 big boys tease him so, and if I try to stop them, 
 they begin calling vat young parson or littU hypo- 
 crite, so that sometimes I just clinch my fists I 
 get so angry. Do you think I can be a real 
 Christian and feel that way, mother ? " 
 
k 80 much of on 
 ret set too much 
 30 little about a 
 e of God." 
 ibout that lately, 
 " his mother an- 
 me all my anxie* 
 I began casting 
 
 ;n losing ground 
 r kind of prosper- 
 id getting along 
 prosperity, I sup- 
 igs to try my pa- 
 e larger boys im- 
 ot mind so much 
 eter, some of the 
 
 try to stop them, 
 rson or little hypo- 
 
 clinch my fists I 
 : I can be a real 
 Jther?" 
 
 Dtatht 
 
 69 
 
 He raised himself on bis elbow, looking anx- 
 iously toward her. 
 
 " ' Be ye angry, and sin not,' is one of the Bible 
 precepts. Oppression and wrong of any kind 
 may kindle our just indignation ; the sin is in 
 giving away to it violently. I hope you will 
 never yield so far to your feelings as to fight with 
 any of your school-mates, no matter what may be 
 the provocation." 
 
 The lad sighed heavily, and laying down in his 
 former position, he said : 
 
 " I will try, mother, but it is hard to see poor 
 Peter knocked down, and his crutches thrown 
 away in the snow, just for fun as the boys say, to 
 see him crawling for them, or his little sister 
 Sally wading through the deep snow after them, 
 with her little pinched, hungry-looking face red 
 with the cold and tears that are always there 
 when Peter is getting teased." 
 
 "Well, why do not you go and get the 
 crutches?" 
 
 "I do, mother, but they beat me too, if I do. 
 
 iim 
 
 t^ 
 
Robbit Meredith. 
 
 and then I am generally a good ways off wn n 
 they do it." 
 
 " But why do ycu not tell the teacher ?" 
 
 " I have, but he docs not seera to mind what 
 
 the rich boys do. They generally act as they 
 
 please, and it makes it harder for the rest of us." 
 
 •• Never mind yourself, Robbie, only try and 
 
 take the part of the weaker ones." 
 
 "I do try, mother, but I cannot do much 
 alone. I wonder why it is so much easier to do 
 wrong than right. If I were to fall in with the 
 ways of the other boys, I should hi,ve no tvouble 
 •getting along with them, and it seems so unjust 
 for them to laugh at and shun me just because I 
 can't find it in my heart to tease the weaker 
 children, cheat the master, and say words 1 
 should blush for you or the girls to hear me 
 
 speak." 
 
 " I hope my son will always be brave oiough 
 not to mind what his school-fellows say, when he 
 he knows he has right on his side." 
 
 After a moment's pause, he said : 
 
 r 
 
 I 
 1 
 
 ■ 
 
 ::^ij::uT:i T'Tu7rT7rr i nirai i » i 7nTX i rr . ?iiy r V^^ 
 
 
1 ways off wn n 
 
 teacher?" 
 >in to mind what 
 ally act as they 
 r the rest of us." 
 lie, only try and 
 
 :aniM>t do much 
 luch easier to do 
 o fall ui with the 
 d hi.ve no tvouble 
 t seems so unjust 
 ne just because I 
 tease the weaker 
 ind say words I 
 ^Is to hear me 
 
 be brave oiough 
 lows say, when he 
 ide." 
 said: 
 
 DtMik, 
 
 ;< 
 
 " God will heir we if I ask him, for he know* 
 how much ^ s»>metimes need it." 
 
 His mother had the tea prepared now, and 
 Robbie was ready to do justice to it; the bit of 
 luncheon he had at school was but unsatisfactory 
 food for the growing, active boy, while the school- 
 house was too far away in the deep snows and 
 sudden storms of winter for him to go home an. 
 return in the short noon hour. 
 
 They had scarcely finished their tea when P 'k 
 Williams came hastily into the house, and witi 
 out waiting to respond to their cordial gr 'ng* 
 
 he said : 
 
 " Mrs. Meredith, they want you to come over 
 directly. Mother is very sick." . 
 
 "What is the matter?" was her startled 
 
 question. 
 " We are afraid she is dying. She was taken 
 
 only a few minutes ago." 
 
 In a moment Mrs. Meredith was ready, and 
 taking Robbie with her she was soon across the 
 lots at farmer Williams' door. 
 
U— . 
 
 72 
 
 Robbif Meredith. 
 
 When Mrs. Meredith entered the room where 
 her kindly neighbor was lying, to all appearance 
 struggling with a cruel death, the rennembrance 
 of her own life sorrow was brought fresh to her 
 mind. A momentary weakness passed over her, 
 but she soon regained her usual calmness, and 
 instantly set about trying to see if something 
 could not be done to give the sufferer relief. 
 
 No one had as yet been dispatched for the doc- 
 tor. The farm hands were in the woods and 
 would not be home until dark, while Dick was 
 unwilling to leave his mother's bedside. In a 
 few minutes Robbie had saddled the fleetest 
 horse in the stable, and was galloping along the 
 beaten road for the doctor. 
 
 With what anxiety they all waited his coming, 
 although fearing that she had passed beyond all 
 human skill 1 When he came, their fears were 
 found to be correct ; and so hopeless did he deem 
 the sick woman's case that the only medicines 
 he gave were to deaden the pain. 
 
 When Mrs. Williams found that in a very 
 
Dttah. 
 
 n 
 
 the room where 
 
 all appearance 
 le remembrance 
 ght fresh to her 
 passed over her, 
 al calmness, and 
 lee if something 
 Eferer relief. 
 :ched for the doc- 
 
 the woods and 
 , while Dick was 
 
 1 bedside. In a 
 lied the fleetest 
 loping along the 
 
 uted his coming, 
 tassed beyond all 
 , their fears were 
 eless did he deem 
 e only medicines 
 I. 
 that in a very 
 
 few hours, at farthest, she should be face to face 
 with the Judge of all the earth, a momentary 
 alarm increased the pallor of her agonited coun- 
 Tehance ; but faith in the Redeemer whom she 
 had loved and served for years soon took away 
 death's sharpest sting, and in a few moments she 
 was able to give directions for the immediate 
 guidance of the family, as, also, advice for their 
 more distant future. 
 
 Before midnight her spirit escaped froip the 
 suffering body. Her dying testimony, together 
 with her past life, left her friends without a fear 
 as to her blissful future. 
 
 Robbie had not seen any one die since the sad 
 day when he hau watched with wondering, fright- 
 ened gaze his own father entering the cold river. 
 As he accompanied his mother home in the early 
 dawn, he said : 
 
 "After all, there is nothing so necessary in 
 this world as preparation for death ; only to tVink 
 how soon she was taken from all she held dear 
 on earth." 
 
 ■' J 
 
mSniMIMIII 
 
 74 
 
 Robbit Mtudith. 
 
 % 
 
 "Yes, Robbie, I sec vttry day more clearly 
 how small the affairs of this life are in compari- 
 son with the endless hereafter. I thought, when 
 I was wiping the death dews from her face, 
 would I ever yield to ambitious desires for my 
 children in the future as I had done in the past?" 
 
 " How strange, mother, that we should think 
 alike. It seemed to me then that my success at 
 school was of such little value; but then we 
 ought to make the best of everything while in 
 the world ; the only danger I suppose is getting 
 to think more of the intellect than of the soul" 
 
 "Yes, we had better reach heaven ignorant 
 than to have all knowledge and fail of getting 
 there." 
 
 They were at their own door now; a cold, raw 
 wind was blowing over the frozen meadows from 
 the east, while threatening storm-clouds were 
 slowly rising above the distant hills ; a lurid red 
 marked f he approach of another day, a day of 
 sorrow and desolation to the friends who had so 
 many times made glad the home of the widow 
 and her son. 
 
 -■■■ri>m'>mv^(m^^mi»^-^ 
 
.imiHs&i.^ 
 
 timmmmf 
 
 Dtath. 
 
 7S 
 
 more clearly 
 ire in compari< 
 thought, when 
 cm her face, 
 esires for my 
 I in the pant?" 
 
 should think 
 my success at 
 but then we 
 thing while in 
 ose is getting 
 9f the soul." 
 iven ignorant 
 Eiil of getting 
 
 '; a cold, raw 
 neadows from 
 i-clouds were 
 I ; a lurid red 
 day, a day of 
 Is who had so 
 of the widow 
 
 No wonder that on this cold March morning 
 Iheir hearts seemed in unison with nature's 
 dreariness, and that a vague sense of the fitness 
 of the coming day to the scene upon which it 
 should dawn, in the house across the lots, should 
 be presented to Robbie's susceptible mind. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 SUNDAY SUITS. 
 
 'N April, Robbie was obliged to leave the 
 school. There were fences to be re- 
 paired, and woo4 drawn from the back pasture 
 and cut for the summer's burning ; while he had 
 still much ploughing to do that had been left 
 from the previous autumn ; the farmers had been 
 using their teams, and the mother'.s limp purse 
 could not at that time bear the drain upon it of a 
 hired man and his team. Now Robbie felt large 
 enough to hold the plough, while Helen, bright 
 aiid active beyond her years, could easily manage 
 the horse, so that a man's wages at least would 
 
 be saved. 
 
 (76) 
 
«^^ 
 
 Sunday Suits. 
 
 77 
 
 ed to leave the 
 nces to be re- 
 le back pasture 
 I \ while he had 
 t had been left 
 urmers had been 
 der's limp purse 
 rain upon it of a 
 Bobbie felt large 
 [e Helen, bright 
 Id easily manage 
 s at least would 
 
 But, at the best, prospects were dark enough. 
 The pig Nancy had brought in the summer was 
 well-nigh used up; only what the prudent mother 
 had reserved for the toilsome seed-time, when 
 meat was scarce and appetites so sharp. 
 
 White-face and Blossom had nearJ' ceased to 
 yield their daily offering, 'vhile the flour, and 
 even the buck-wheat were getting alarmingly low. 
 But there were no debts, and summer was 
 coming, and, after the seasons they had passed 
 through, Robbie did not yield much to fears for 
 
 the future. 
 
 What was hardest to bear, tl:sy could none of 
 them go to church or Sunday-school. The 
 mother had turned and returned the garments 
 worn in better days until their faded, threadbare 
 appearance was no longer presentable f jr God's 
 
 house. 
 As Robbie put on his out-grown Sunday best 
 
 the last time, he said, half playfully: 
 
 " If it were the heart they wished to see, they 
 might always aee mine through these clothes, 
 
 "!W^ 
 
 ,r^ 
 
■f.'i,- <■ r,::i'sT^tr?BESS 
 
 78 
 
 Robbie Meredith. 
 
 *" 'I 
 
 they are so thin. I guess I won't go again Witil 
 I can get better, unless you will let me wear my 
 every-day suit, it does not look quite so poverty 
 stricken." 
 
 His mother gave her consent, but soon the 
 patches even on that suit became so multitudi< 
 nous that Robbie was obliged to stay at home. 
 
 " I do not care so much for myself," he said, 
 one bright May morning, when the bells in the 
 village were calling the people to the house of 
 prayer, " but it is so hard to see you confined at 
 home, and it will be so long before we can get 
 clothes for us alL" 
 
 " Never mind, Robbie, we can read God's 
 word at home, and if we sit on the door-step and 
 watch the fair clouds and listen to the birds mak- 
 ing their glad harmonies all about us, we can im- 
 agine the clouds to be kind messengers from 
 heaven, freighted with blessings, while we re> 
 member that the birds are one rich gift left us 
 from Adam's transgression." 
 
 " Ah, yes 1 but I should so like to have the 
 services at church and these too." 
 
 
 abunc 
 
 blessi 
 
 ready 
 
 biitii 
 
 "I 
 
 "I 
 
 wUll 
 
 "\ 
 
 "■5 
 
 else, 
 
 those 
 
 way 
 
 neve 
 
 hast( 
 
 R 
 
 low! 
 
 a su 
 ally 
 had 
 
rain utitil 
 wear my 
 ) poverty 
 
 soon the 
 Dultitudi< 
 
 home. 
 
 he said. 
 Is in the 
 house of 
 nfined at 
 ; can get 
 
 id God's 
 -step and 
 irds mak- 
 e can im- 
 ;ers from 
 ie we re- 
 it left us 
 
 have the 
 
 Sunday Smts. 
 
 79 
 
 " Maybe, my son, when you get to bawe an 
 abundant home of your own you will prize your 
 blessings all the more highly, and be the more 
 ready to thare your means with those who have 
 
 but little." 
 
 "I may never have anything to share, mother." 
 
 " If you live, I have no fears but that your life 
 will be a successful one." 
 
 " Why do you think that ? " 
 
 "Your energy and perseverance, if nothing 
 else, assure me of it, so let us wait patiently for 
 those richer days, I won't say happier. Some- 
 way of late I have realized my blessings as I 
 never did before, and I cannot reasonably wish to 
 hasten to any happier future." 
 
 Robbie looked up in his mother's face from his 
 low seat at her feet on the door-step. There was 
 a surprised gladness in his own face that effectu- 
 ally chased away the momentary discontent that 
 had somewhat clouded his handsome counte- 
 nance. 
 
 "You are satisfied, then, that we have kept 
 
 together?" 
 
 r 
 
 >. mmmUSiSliMtiUX'iWiimTSi&m 
 
 mli^ 
 
 J 
 
8d 
 
 Robbie Meredith. 
 
 
 " Yes, Robbie, I have found that mother does 
 not always know best You were right that 
 
 time." 
 
 " That was the only time, and then you could 
 not know how determined I was to keep our 
 home together. We do not mind the hardships 
 now that they are past, and we can surely afford 
 to endure the few yet to come." 
 
 Seed-time came and went. Midsummer suns 
 rose sand set, ripening golden grain and fruits, 
 and still Robbie was held prisoner on the Sun- 
 
 days. 
 
 His thoughtful pastor, quickly divining the rea- 
 son for his absence, supplied him with reading 
 matter best suited for the bright, clever boy, so 
 that his Sundays might not be quite lost His 
 own narrow income alone preventing him becom- 
 ing the anonymous donor of a complete Sunday 
 suit ; but a widowed mother, with children still 
 unprovided for, absorbed all his surplus funr^«, 
 and it was only books and similar help he could 
 give the brave, earnest lad who claimed so 
 strongly his hearty admiration. 
 
Sunday Suits. 
 
 8i 
 
 mother does 
 J right that 
 
 en you could 
 
 to keep our 
 
 he hardships 
 
 surely afford 
 
 summer suns 
 in and fruits, 
 • on the Sun- 
 
 /ining the rea- 
 with reading 
 clever boy, so 
 lite lost. His 
 ng him becom- 
 mplete Sunday 
 li children still 
 surplus fun'^«, 
 r help he could 
 10 claimed so 
 
 Another midsummer evening, nearly a year 
 from that well remembered eventide when he 
 first started out alone to look for bread, found 
 Robbie, after his hard day's work trudging along, 
 somewhat wearily under a heavy basket of but- 
 ter to Phalcn's store at the Comer. 
 
 The cows were performing unusually well in 
 the butter line this summer; so much so that 
 the flour barrel had been replenished, and other 
 household necessaries supplied. 
 
 Robbie's mother had given him permission to 
 invest the supply of butter he carried in the bas- 
 ket this night according to his own fancy, think- 
 ing, of course, that he would buy himself a new 
 suit, and finish paying for it with future churn 
 
 ings. 
 
 No such selfish plan, however, was cherished 
 by her boy. Arriving at the store, Robbie found, 
 to his satisfaction, Phalen in, and responding to 
 the kind-hearted fellow's hearty greeting he 
 straightway delivered his butter-basket, and after 
 the weighing had been attended to, inquired, 
 
 . I III rrpmninTinrii 
 
 ..«*' 
 
83 
 
 RoMu Mtredith. 
 
 with a measure of self-distrust, if Phalcn had any 
 pretty dress material for women's wear. 
 
 " That we have, my boy, something that will 
 make your eyes sparkle." 
 
 " I want something sober, it's a dress for my 
 
 mother." 
 
 Phalen turned from the piles of reds and 
 greens he was about reaching down to a heap 
 of quieter tints. 
 
 Robbie espied a piece of silver grey it oc- 
 curred to him how prettily it would match the 
 soft grey hair that was beginning to whiten so 
 rapidly on his mother's fair brow. " May I look 
 at that piece ? ** he asked, pointing to it. 
 
 " Ah, sonny, I am afraid that's too dear for 
 
 you." 
 
 Robbie inquired the price. The next question, 
 something he had quite forgotten before, how 
 much it would take? Phalen made a ready 
 guess; he knew Mrs. Meredith's size. Robbie 
 reckoned it up, ten yards at one dollar a yard ; it 
 certainly was a great sum for them, but a happy 
 thought presented itself. 
 
 
 he 
 
 cou 
 
 I 
 
 cou 
 
 for 
 < 
 
 hot 
 blil 
 slig 
 wit 
 ] 
 chi 
 bre 
 bin 
 sor 
 cos 
 so 
 
 ■«Kr 
 
en had any 
 
 r. 
 
 ; that will 
 
 ess for my 
 
 : reds and 
 I to aheap 
 
 grey it oc- 
 match the 
 
 whiten so 
 May I look 
 
 it. 
 
 ;oo dear for 
 
 ext question, 
 before, how 
 ide a ready 
 ize. Robbie 
 ar a yard ; it 
 but a happy 
 
 I 
 
 Sunday Suiis. 
 
 «3 
 
 " My mother makes her dresses very plainly," 
 he said, " and that looks so wide I think she 
 could do with much less." 
 
 Phalen agreed with him, suggesting that more 
 could be got if necessary, and giving it to him 
 for ninety cents a yard. 
 
 Soon it was measured, and Robbie on his way 
 home in the soft summer twilight, whistling 
 blithely, but there was mixed with his pleasure a 
 slight fear lest his mother should be dissatisfied 
 with his purchase. 
 
 He had never seen her wear anything '^o 
 church, since his father's death, except the soku- 
 bre black that so often became distasteful to 
 him ; but he shrewdly thought the possible rea- 
 son might be the lack of some brighter article of 
 costume to replace the black that had done duty 
 so long. 
 
 When he reached home he slowly undid the 
 package, handing it with a deprecating air to the 
 little mother, who was watching curiously her 
 son's proceedings. 
 
 . 
 
 ■sf" 
 
 .«^ 
 

 g^ RodHe Meredith. 
 
 "What is it?" she said, as he held up the 
 shining silvery folds. " What a charming piece 
 of goods it is ; but who is it for ? " 
 
 "Who should it be for but my mother?" ' 
 Robbie replied with a brightening face. " Do 
 you think it is pretty?" 
 
 " Quite too pretty for me, my son ; bow could 
 you be so extravagant ? " 
 
 " It is not extravagant if it pleases you. Now 
 you at least can go to church." 
 
 "Ah! Robbie, I had far rather you had got 
 clothes first. Your generosity pains me." 
 
 " Our turn will come next You should be 
 clothed first, and I am so glad you like it." 
 
 " How could I help liking anything you would 
 choose for me ?" the mother murmured, softly. 
 
 On measuring, it was found there would be 
 quite enough, not only to make the dress, but 
 also a cape, without which Mrs. Meredith could 
 scarcely go to church. Her summer shawl had 
 done duty so many years it would no longer be 
 presentable over the handsome dress. 
 
 it 
 
 &' 
 as 
 
 all 
 
 wl 
 
 ec 
 
 fa 
 tc 
 b 
 P 
 
 ti 
 
 t; 
 

 >r 
 
 eld up the 
 ming piece 
 
 mother ? " 
 lace. "Do 
 
 ; bow could 
 
 I you. 
 
 Now 
 
 you had got 
 1 me." 
 
 u should be 
 ke it." 
 
 ng you would 
 ired, softly. 
 ;re would be 
 :he dress, but 
 ercdith could 
 ler shawl had 
 no longer be 
 
 jisim 
 
 Sunday Suits. 
 
 85 
 
 «• How fortunate that it was so wide ; after all 
 it will be a very cheap dress." 
 
 " It will, indeed, Robbie ; the pleasure it has 
 given me already, poor as we are, is half as much 
 as it is worth, and then I expect it will serve me 
 all the year round until you are quite a man ; 
 when, I suppose, there wUl be no longer need of 
 economizing so strictly." 
 
 Mary had been silently stroking the smooth 
 fabric that seemed to have brought such pleasure 
 to the humble home, with a wistful look in her 
 brown eyes ; suddenly an eager, brightened ex- 
 pression took the place of the wistful look: 
 " Will he be a man by next summer, mamma?" 
 Robbie laughed shyly, while Mrs. Meredith 
 turned to stroke lovingly the upturned face of 
 
 the child. 
 " Not quite so soon as that, my little one; but 
 
 why do you ask?" 
 
 " I thought I might get a new frock, then." 
 The little face lost its brightness at the pros- 
 
 pect of such long waiting. 
 
 Mii wu i auiBn"- v f i l iwugiaw 
 
 w*^'" '" 
 
 i>iMMjiiniBli!|l| ■Wjrart».w*J* 
 
86 
 
 Robbie Meredith, 
 
 " Never mind, pet, you shall have a good many 
 dresses before I'm a man. White-face and Blos- 
 som will find them for you pretty soon." 
 
 After that, many a shy clover head was held 
 temptingly through the pasture bars to the gentle 
 cows, who soon learned to follow Mary, pretty 
 sure of getting something. 
 
 Her not wholly unselfish care was soon re- 
 warded. In less than a month Robbie had made 
 the last payment on his mother's dress, and again 
 he was starting out one rainy afternoon with an 
 umbrella hoisted over his basket. 
 
 " This butter must go to pay for our last flour, 
 and then the next will be for you," his mother 
 said to him when leaving. 
 
 He did not make reply ; for once he had con- 
 cluded to disobey his mother. 
 
 Reaching the store he found Phalen ready to 
 wait on him, and also willing to let the flour still 
 remain unpaid for. 
 
 " Of course you can get anything you wish," 
 he said, heartily. "Smith himself acknowledges 
 you are one of our most prompt customers." 
 
 ■■•N3if^^.|ifc,.ia5^jsffi5Sif,i^i^™ 
 
good many 
 
 e and Blos- 
 
 1." 
 
 d was held 
 
 ) the gentle 
 
 :ary, pretty 
 
 IS soon re- 
 e had made 
 s, and again 
 )on with an 
 
 ir last flour, 
 his mother 
 
 he had con- 
 
 len ready to 
 hie flour still 
 
 you wish," 
 ^knowledges 
 omers.' 
 
 ^^ 
 
 Sunday Suits. 
 
 «7 
 
 The keen-eyed fellow did not (ail to see the 
 flush of pleasure his encouraging words had 
 caused. 
 
 " I would like to get a dress and some fixings 
 for my little sister, if you can tell me what is 
 suitable." 
 
 "Why not get them for yourself? I have 
 joined the Sunday-school lately, and they gave 
 me the class to which you belong, but I haven't 
 seen you there. I guessed the reason why." 
 
 " I should like to go, but the poor little thing 
 has her heart set on going, too, and I can wait 
 more patiently than she." 
 
 " Well, you are a good boy, Bob. I wish there 
 were more like you." 
 
 In a little while Robbie and Phalen were bus- 
 ily engaged selecting a dress for Mary. Robbie's 
 choice was divided between a delicate muslin and 
 brightly colored-merino.. The muslin would be 
 quite within his means, but would also very soon 
 be too thin to wear. Phalen urged him to take 
 the merina 
 
 .a> r^.» l liaLlJ. i _JU.-..al.Jll 
 
 . g ■ l l H^m .WW»BMiWIW!- 
 
 ; -^^=R5t^^l<{t!«HS48S2«-5SH^ 
 
 ■J 
 
••■■■■■■■''■nVHHaBeH 
 
 mmBmamffm 
 
 
 ^^jTJ'raSV— J«B.'«* 
 
IMAGE EVALUATION 
 TEST TARGET (MT-3) 
 
 V 
 
 / 
 
 
 
 <" w^.. 
 
 {/ /;« 
 
 A 
 
 ^ 
 
 W 
 
 <? 
 
 
 «■?/ 
 
 
 
 Photographic 
 
 Sdences 
 
 Corporation 
 
 23 WEST MAIN STREET 
 
 WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 
 
 (716) 872-4503 
 

 A 
 ^ 
 
 CIHM/ICMH 
 
 Microfiche 
 
 Series. 
 
 CIHIVI/ICIVIH 
 Collection de 
 microfiches. 
 
 Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions / Institut Canadian de microreproductions historiques 
 
 Ar«- 
 
 ii. 
 
88 
 
 Robbie Meredith. 
 
 " I don't think we could afford it." ^ ; 
 
 " Yes, but then see how wide it is," was the en- 
 couraging reply. 
 
 That was a recommendation, Robbie thought, 
 as he recollected his mother's dress which she had 
 made so much out of on account of its width. 
 This fortunate circumstance decided him in favor 
 of the merino. 
 
 The next thing to get was a hat, of the suitable 
 selection of which Robbie felt somewhat fearful ; 
 but with Phalen's really good taste to assist in 
 choosing, a pretty little hat was soon lying beside 
 the dress, ready to take home to the delighted 
 child. The slippers were easily selected, when 
 Robbie's purchases were complete. As he took 
 up his basket to leave the store, Fhalen said : 
 
 " You need not pay for that dress. I will 
 make the little maid a present of it." 
 
 Robbie's face expressed more gratekil thanks 
 than his lips were able to frame. 
 
 " If I could only do something for you," he 
 said ; " it seems as if I must always be receiving 
 from others and not doing anything in return." 
 
 A 
 
 "A 
 
 SI 
 
 i 
 
 ^ 
 
was the en- 
 
 ie thought, 
 ich she had 
 [ its width, 
 litn in favor 
 
 the suitable 
 hat fearful ; 
 :o assist in 
 ying beside 
 e delighted 
 ected, when 
 As he took 
 :n said : 
 ess. I will 
 
 ekil thanks 
 
 [or you," he 
 be receiving 
 n return." 
 
 I 
 
 ip 
 
 Sunday Suits. S^ 
 
 " Never mind, you may help us all some day. 
 ' It's a long lane has no turn.' " 
 
 When Robbie reached home the tea was ready, 
 and the mother had, from her carefully hoarded 
 store, added a few luxuries, for Nancy was there. 
 She had been visiting some friends at a distance, 
 and taking care of an aged relative who had left 
 her, most unexpectedly, a snug little sum of 
 money. Her kindness had so endeared her to 
 others that there were none to envy her her little 
 store of wealth. 
 
 Robbie set down his basket. In his delight at 
 seeing Nancy he forgot for awhile its contents, 
 until his mother, looking into it, said : 
 " May we look at your new clothes, Robbie ? " 
 She was so busy exploring the basket, Rob- 
 bie's flushed face was unnoticed. True a friend 
 as Nancy was, he had rather she should not know 
 he bought the girl's hats and diesses; it was bad 
 enough for Phalen to know he did it. 
 
 " What have you got here ? " was his mother's 
 surprised question, as she unrolled first the hat 
 with its gay ribbons and then the dress. 
 
90 
 
 Robbie Meredith. 
 
 " I got Mary's Sunday clothes." 
 
 " Oh, let me see," the delighted child eagerly 
 cried. Her delight was unbounded. 
 
 Robbie glanced at his mother; he could not 
 fail to see a proud, loving look in her face, al- 
 though when she caught his eye she said : 
 
 " I am. sorry, Robbie, that you have spent your 
 money so foolishly. Mary could have done with- 
 out better than you." 
 
 " Never mind, mother, our turn will come next, 
 won't it, Helen ? Beside, you must know that 
 dress is a present from Phalen to our baby." 
 
 They did not say much more, but when Rob- 
 bie went out after tea:, and his mother told Nancy 
 how long he had been kept at home for want of 
 clothes, and yet how unwilling he was to be clad 
 first, the latter, nowise injured by her recent ac- 
 cession of money, said : 
 
 " If you are willing, Mrs. Meredith, I will buy 
 Robbie a new suit." 
 
 " I do not think he would be willing," was the 
 timid reply; "he thinks we have been too great 
 
 a 
 
 b< 
 
 bi 
 
 m 
 es 
 
 O! 
 
 nt 
 
 gJ 
 in 
 
 lil 
 
 w 
 cl 
 
 in 
 
 g< 
 tl 
 
 iiii ■> '■■»-.iira"'(i>rri ^i>»^"i^'t<iMhVaw^rf^*i£*?<^j»'i'Hto*«*ii 
 
ild eagerly 
 
 e could not 
 er face, al< 
 aid : 
 
 spent your 
 done with- 
 
 come next, 
 know that 
 jaby." 
 when Rob- 
 old Nancy 
 or want of 
 to be clad 
 recent ac- 
 
 I will buy 
 
 :," was the 
 t too great 
 
 Sunday Suits. 
 
 9» 
 
 a tax already on our friends, but maybe he would 
 be glad to borrow the money and then pay you 
 back when we are a' le." 
 
 Nancy readily agreed to this, and so the next 
 morning found her early at Fhalen's counter, 
 eager about the purcha^^te. With his usual gener- 
 osity he gave her the cloth at cost, and it was 
 not long until she and Mrs. Meredith had the 
 garments cut, and were busy with their needles 
 in an up-stairs room where Robbie would not be 
 likely to surprise them unexpectedly. 
 
 It was a happy Eioment for Mrs. Meredith 
 when the Sunday morning came to place the 
 clothes on a chair in Robbie's room, where his 
 eyes would be sure to rest on them when he come 
 in. They were a happy pair, as they walked to- 
 gether, accompanied by little Mary, to church 
 that morning. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 CONVERSION. 
 
 jOBBIE was once more in the Sunday- 
 school, and could listen again to the 
 words of instruction and warning uttered from 
 the sacred desk. 
 
 The evening of thht first Sabbath after he had 
 again taken his accustomed seat in the house of 
 prayer, the minister took for his text that 
 strangely symbolic text, from the sayings of the 
 wise man, " Take us the foxes, the little foxes, 
 that spoil the vines : for our vines have tender 
 grapes." 
 
 Robbie was first amused, and next fascinated 
 by the quaintness of the good man's text, and 
 
 (02) 
 
 .. 
 
 th 
 bi 
 
 as 
 ju 
 ai 
 
 P' 
 ni 
 w 
 T 
 tl 
 b 
 h 
 
 Si 
 
 tl 
 
 P 
 
 t! 
 
 h 
 
 
 
 f 
 
 a 
 
 ttir*'i^^ m ^^ l ^ Lt •*|^^ ^ ^ • M• l f ^ ^^ 
 
 * i il 9 m mmavim t ■J l l i ' l Tlf i L < QJU, ff r^rr- 
 
e Sunday- 
 lin to the 
 tered from 
 
 fter he had 
 le house of 
 text that 
 ngs of the 
 ittle foxes, 
 ave tender 
 
 fascinated 
 s text, aud 
 
 Conversion. 
 
 93 
 
 the remarks he uttered as he took up the various 
 branches of his discourse. 
 
 With a satisfied self-complacency he listened, 
 as one by one the habits and actions likely to in- 
 jure the work of grace in the Christian character 
 and life were dwelt upon; until, at last, the 
 preacher in a masterly manner pressed home 
 more and yet more closely the truths which he 
 was uttering upon the consciences of his hearers. 
 The more flagrant sins were first arraigned, and 
 then he narrowed down more closely, until Rob- 
 bie felt his cheeks crimson. Were not his own 
 heart's coveted idols passing under scrutiny now ? 
 
 Pride, self-esteem, auibiHon, impatience, oh ! 
 so many sias were set in array before him, as his- 
 thoughts quickly reviewed the months that had 
 passed since he had felt his sins forgiven. Even 
 that very evening he liad entered the church, 
 holding up his head as if he were better than the 
 other boys around him ,' mentally making the dif- 
 ference between his own active services for others, 
 and their careless, fun-loving habits. Now he 
 
Robbie Meredith. 
 
 %, 
 
 mm 
 
 94 
 
 felt ready, like the Publican, to cry, " God be 
 merciful to me a sinner," as the curtain was be- 
 ing lifted from his heart, and sins that had been 
 hiding there were exposed to view. 
 
 Robbie went home through the calm summer 
 night, feeling sadder and more condemned than 
 he had done before for months. His thoughts 
 had been so engrossed in the every-day duties of 
 life but little time had been given to the higher 
 interests of his spiritual welfare. 
 
 He realized now that the strangely fascinating 
 story of Pilgrim, in Bunyan's allegory, Was not 
 over-drawn. He had only gone but a little dis- 
 tance on that w£gr that Pilgrim followed so stead- 
 fastly until the termination, which lay beyond 
 Beulah over the river, in the Celestial City. 
 
 Robbie felt that he too had been loitering in 
 the Valley of Carnal Security ; had been listen- 
 ing to the words of Giant Pride and other ene- 
 mies of the soul; but he determined, as he 
 leaned over the fence looking up at the bright 
 stars shining far off in the quiet heavens, that he 
 would again begin. 
 
 laiikite i M'A^H '*ti i iff i« Si «i n i l > it"' i ii i l ii iii» l iiil i &l i i i ii l i ' 
 
 of 
 an 
 m: 
 ne 
 frc 
 
 tir 
 inj 
 vi( 
 he 
 hii 
 do 
 lei 
 to 
 
 m 
 
 Wi 
 
 m 
 he 
 ut 
 ar 
 
Conversion, 
 
 ', "God be 
 ain was be- 
 t had been 
 
 m summer 
 mned than 
 I thoughts 
 y duties of 
 the higher 
 
 fascinating 
 y. Was not 
 a little dis- 
 d so stead- 
 ay beyond 
 City. 
 
 oitering in 
 een listen* 
 other ene- 
 led, as he 
 the bright 
 ns, that he 
 
 " I will at least not let Giant Despair get hold 
 of me," he murmured ; " my case is hard enough, 
 and I have been forgetful and wicked enough to 
 make me give up all hope, but I shall look ear- 
 nestly to Christ for help and he will save me 
 from myself." 
 
 He followed his mother into the house after a 
 time. Nancy was there. In his silent commun- 
 ing, under the watching stars, Robbie had new 
 views of the duties and responsibilities of life ; 
 he saw how many things he had left undone for 
 his blessed Master ; how little he was trying to 
 do to show his gratitude to the Saviour, who had 
 left the abode of his own and his father's glory 
 to die for him. 
 
 " I have not acknowledged him to any one but 
 my mother, except in a half-ashamed, frightened 
 way, as if it were a disgrace to have God's love in 
 my soul," he said, half aloud, before entering the 
 house ; and then in the Still night air vows were 
 uttered and prayers breathed forth, unheard by 
 any human ear, but the result of which brought 
 
96 
 
 Robbie Meredith. 
 
 before many weeks a joy nearest that of the an- 
 gels to very many hearts. 
 
 That evening, before they retired, Robbie said 
 to his mother : 
 
 " If you are willing, mother, I think wc should 
 have prayers together before we sleep." 
 
 She gave him a surprised look, but said, " I 
 am willing, Robbie." 
 
 With a quivering heart, and a feeling of humil- 
 iation almost terrible in its strength, Robbie 
 opened the Bible. He turned to that sad story 
 of our Saviour's agony in the garden, and, as he 
 read, strength seemed given to him. For a mo- 
 ment he forgot his mother, and Nancy, and his 
 wondering sisters. Christ did all this for him, 
 wrestled, agonized, bled ; should he refuse so light 
 a cross in view of the heavier one his Master 
 struggled under so many hours alone? The 
 prayer he uttered was short but fervent. When 
 they arose from their knees, Nancy was not 
 ashamed to be found in tears. 
 
 When Robbie retired that night he wondered 
 
 t s>Si!*^5»*«***=«*'«»«'»"*t*' ■■ 
 
Conversion. 
 
 97 
 
 It of the an« 
 Robbie said 
 
 tk we should 
 
 P- 
 
 but said, " I 
 
 ing of humil- 
 igth, Robbie 
 lat sad story 
 in, and, as he 
 I. For a mo- 
 incy, and his 
 this for hini, 
 efuse so light 
 e his Master 
 alone ? The 
 vent. When 
 ncy was not 
 
 he wondered 
 
 should he always be so happy in the love of 
 Christ ; when he went about the duties of the 
 day, week after week, and year after year, until 
 life was done, should he always carry this deep, 
 inexpressible comfort with him ? 
 
 The following evening he found time to visit 
 his minister. He thought there might be found 
 some work he could do for Christ and his fellow 
 creatures ; and, beside, he wished to unite with 
 the church. He longed to share with Christians 
 the privilege of commemorating Christ's death in 
 the mystical emblems of bread and wine. When 
 he spoke to his minister Robbie said modestly : 
 
 " I thought, sir, that it was my duty to tell you 
 how much your sermon benefitted me. I never 
 was so happy in my life as I have been to^y." 
 
 "You could not tell me any better news my, 
 dear boy." was the glad reply. " It was with a 
 sad, discouraged heart that I prepared that ser- 
 mon ; indeed, I have seen so little fruits of my 
 ministry since I came here, I have feared that I 
 was not in the work God wished to have me in," 
 
wmm 
 
 Robbie Mtredith. 
 
 ** It is not much, I suppose, to help a poor igw 
 norant boy like me, or that might encourage 
 you," Robbie said, gently. 
 
 " When our blessed Master came on earth, his 
 direct mission seems to have been mostly to the 
 poor, and let us hope, Robbie, that the good work 
 begun in your heart may spread to scores be- 
 side." 
 
 Robbie's wish to join the church was heartily 
 approved of, and the next Sunday appointed, 
 when he should receive public recognition of 
 membership. 
 
 " You will meet with us in our prayer-meeting 
 on Wednesday evening, and tell there what joy 
 you have recently experienced," were his mmis- 
 ter's parting words. 
 
 Robbie found his way to the meeting on the 
 Wednesday evening, accompanied by his mother 
 and sisters, although the church was more than 
 a mile away, and Helen and Mary had no other 
 covering for their feet but what nature provided. 
 With generous self-sacrifice, Mary declared her 
 
 . ;'fatt*p.'»e.'^^»J^' " 
 
a poor ig- 
 encourage 
 
 I earth, his 
 stly to the 
 good work 
 scores be- 
 as heartily 
 appointed, 
 gaition of 
 
 er-meeting 
 
 e what joy 
 
 his minis- 
 
 ing on the 
 his mother 
 more than 
 i no other 
 e provided, 
 xlared her 
 
 Cffftversum. 
 
 determination to go barefoot rather than have 
 Helen appear so alone. 
 
 Robbie felt grieved to think of it, but he be- 
 lieved there was a better time coming, when he 
 and the dear ones with him could sit in God's 
 house without being pained with a sense of their 
 outward unfitness for that sacred place. 
 
 However the small congregation may have e». 
 teemed the humble family, as the mother and her 
 two barefoot daughters softly went up the uncar- 
 peted aisle, to farmer Williams' pew where they 
 were always welcome to a seat, at least before 
 the service was ended they could but rejoice with 
 her when they heard her soft, tremulous voice 
 telling what great peace had recently come to 
 abide in her heart, and still more might they 
 wonder at her joy when Robbie, with an elo- 
 quence thrilling from its very simplicity and in- 
 tensity of feeling, told them what God had done 
 for him. 
 
 It was not a usual thing, in that church, to 
 hear any one speak of tho love of Jesus, unless 
 
fT=" 
 
 k^ 
 
 100 
 
 Robbie Meredith. 
 
 the minister or some of the aged members ; but 
 ■when a timid woman and her boy told, with such 
 deep pathos, their simple story, it was not strange 
 if there was in the little assembly scarce an un- 
 moved spectator. 
 
 After Robbie sat down, one and another spoke 
 quietly, but with an earnestness that betokened 
 a belief in the awful realities of another state of 
 existence. The cold apathy that had been the 
 habitual state of that prayer-meeting was quite 
 • broken up, and so unconscious was Mr. Carthen, 
 the minister, of the flight of time, and so willing 
 were the people to remain where the power from 
 on high was so manifested, that one after another 
 of the villagers dropped in to ascertain the cause 
 of the unusually long meeting. 
 When at last they did close, Mr. Carthen asked 
 
 if it would not be wise to have another meeting 
 
 the next evening. 
 "We have been," he said, " careless so long, 
 
 surely we may now afford to be a little while in 
 
 earnest, else God nia\ leave us entirely. We 
 
smbers; but 
 d, with such 
 I not strange 
 carce an un- 
 
 nother spoke 
 Lt betokened 
 tther state of 
 ad been the 
 ng was quite 
 Mr. Carthen, 
 nd so willing 
 5 power from 
 after another 
 ain the cause 
 
 )arthen asked 
 ther meeting 
 
 ;less so long, 
 little while in 
 entirely. We 
 
 I 
 
 Conversion. 
 
 tot 
 
 have felt his presence here wondrously to-night. 
 Let us believe it is a manifest token that he is 
 about to pour out his Spirit in our midst. All 
 willing to unite in working and praying for a re- 
 vival will please manifest their willingness to co- 
 operate by rising." 
 
 One after another the congregation responded, 
 until scarcely a person remained sitting. 
 
 In a tremulous voice the benediction was pro- 
 nounced, and the people, some in groups and 
 others alone, went to their homes. Some were 
 astonished, others rejoicing. 
 
 " It is the dawning, I believe, of a day I have 
 long prayed for," one saintly old mother in Israel 
 exclaimed, as she said good-by to her pastor at 
 the parsonage gate. 
 
 Robbie went about his work next day happy 
 enough, and strong enough in his great new joy 
 to resist Satan's wily snares. As he worked in 
 the harvest field that day, the thought was sug- 
 gested to him that there was no necessity for 
 his beginning so young in life to work for Jesus; 
 
 '.>S«' 
 
ITT^ 
 
 ■JtMMMWyi. 
 
 zr..-L > ±..^. 
 
 102 
 
 /?oW»V Meredith. 
 
 ^ 
 
 but he repelled the temptation by reminding 
 himself how very short, even at the longest, our 
 work-time is on earth. 
 
 His eyes rested on the golden grain he was 
 rapidly cutting down with his sickle, and he was 
 reminded of the time soon to be here, when 
 death, with his " sickle keen," should cut him 
 down and usher his spirit into the presence of 
 the Judge of quick and dead. 
 
 " I won't regret then that I began when I was 
 only sixteen to work for Jesus," he said aloud as 
 if answering some invisible companion. 
 
 When he entered the crowded church that 
 evening it did not occur to him that it would be 
 his duty to take any public part in the service ; 
 but, during the evening, his afternoon's medita- 
 tion in the harvest field came into his mind, as 
 he was half unconsciously watching Dick Will- 
 iams' strangely moved countenance. Eager to 
 encourage him, before he scarcely knew what he 
 was doing, he was on his feet, thrilling with his 
 simple, homely message, not only the heart of 
 
 II < 
 
.. ._.*i!r«'';**o3,i'>^;V,*.-**.ii;a'f. >*."'■■ 
 
 y reminding 
 longest, our 
 
 ^ain he was 
 I, and he was 
 here, when 
 luld cut him 
 i presence of 
 
 \ when I was 
 said aloud as 
 on. 
 
 church that 
 t it would be 
 
 the service ; 
 oon's niedita- 
 
 his mind, as 
 ig Dick WiU- 
 e. Eager to 
 knew what he 
 illing with his 
 
 the heart of 
 
 mm 
 
 Conversion. 
 
 103 
 
 good-natured, light-hearted Dick, but also his 
 friend Phalen who had come as many others had, 
 to see the strange doings. 
 
 His simile of the ripening grain-field was one. 
 they could all understand ; and, as he spoke, old 
 farmer Williams, who had never quite sympa- 
 thized with his wife in her love for religion, inly 
 trembled as he reflected upon how nearly ripe his 
 years must be, and how little precious seed he 
 had borne for Christ or the world. 
 
 Robbie, a mere child compared with himself, 
 was working for his Master, while he, soon to be 
 called from all his planning and treasures, was 
 only thinking of that certain future with dread. 
 
 When Robbie had ceased speaking there was 
 for several moments a solemn pause; a wagon 
 going by was distinctly heard far down the road, 
 while an occasional mufHed shuffling of feet 
 seemed to distutb the house. 
 
 A few moments after, Mr. Carthen, as well as 
 the old man's neighbors, were startled as farmer 
 Williams arose to his feet. Dick and his sisters, 
 
iiiSF^ 
 
 I 
 
 i- ! 
 
 Robbie Meredith. 
 
 104 
 
 who were sitting in the large square pew with 
 their father, exchanged half-frightened glances. 
 The congregation turned their heads to listen. 
 All were surprised. Old comrades of the farmer 
 were there, those who had played with him 
 in boyhood, consulted together the serious busi- 
 ness of life, grown old together, and who, like 
 him, had never thought much of those things 
 that made for their eternal peace. These list- 
 ened as perhaps few others did. What he might 
 say or do would probably have more influence 
 than even their minister's words could have. 
 
 " My friends," he said, while every nerve of his 
 labor-hardened body seemed quivering with emo- 
 tion, "I feel to-night, as I never felt before, the 
 necessity of being prepared for death. I have 
 seen a father and mother calmly meeting death. 
 I have closed the eyes of my children for the 
 last time, and not very long ago I saw the com- 
 panion of my youth and riper years passing 
 through the gates of death. Each of these warn- 
 ings from Providence has had a certain influence 
 
— ,™.'av-.i^S'i:-l7im-VflrM;'-.'>wi&''^5!^:'''S' 
 
 Conversion. 
 
 105 
 
 jare pew with 
 ened glances. 
 :ads to listen. 
 \ of the farmer 
 'ed with him 
 : serious busi- 
 and who, like 
 those things 
 !. These list- 
 Vhat he might 
 lore influence 
 >uld have, 
 ry nerve of his 
 ring with emo- 
 elt before, the 
 leath. I have 
 meeting death, 
 kildren for the 
 [ saw the com- 
 years passing 
 of these warn- 
 :rtain influence 
 
 'i 
 
 over my mind, but not one of them has made me 
 realize as I do this night that some day, and that 
 before very long, I must go to meet my Judge, 
 that I must live either in heaven or hell forever 
 and ever. I believe if I should die this present 
 hour, where God is I could not come." 
 
 He sat down. Not so much the words as the 
 manner in which they were uttered brought a 
 solemnity awful as death itself over the congre- 
 gation. 
 
 The meeting went on. Other voices never 
 before heard speaking for Jesus were asking how 
 they might find him. 
 
 At its close Mr. Carthen announced a simi- 
 lar service on the following evening, and for the 
 
 Sunday also. 
 " We will all be workers together," he said, " in 
 ^.,this glorious harvest work, and we must look and 
 pray that the coming Sabbath may be the best 
 day we have ever known." 
 
 A mighty power seemed resting on the people, 
 and after the benediction had been pronounced, 
 they still seemed unwilling to leave the house. 
 
 ','1 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 %J,^, 
 
 CHRISTIAN WORK. 
 
 HAT Sabbath, and many succeeding ones, 
 were days long to be remembered in the 
 little village, as well as in the surrounding ham- 
 lets. Robbie was received into the church, to- 
 gether with farmer Williams, who was made 
 happy in the pardoning love of God that very 
 night, and several others also on the succeeding 
 Sunday, while for many ensuing Sabbaths the 
 minister and his people were gladdened by see- 
 ing scores of people enrolling themselves with 
 the church. 
 
 Phalen became one of the most earnest work- 
 ers in the good cause. Soon experiencing his 
 
 (10(1) 
 
 .. 
 
 
icceeding ones, 
 :mbered in the 
 rounding ham- 
 the church, to- 
 ho was made 
 Giod that very 
 the succeeding 
 Sabbaths the 
 ddened by see- 
 emselves with 
 
 ; earnest work- 
 periencing his 
 
 Christian Work. 
 
 107 
 
 utter unfitness to teach others, he became a hum- 
 ble disciple in Christ's school ; and when he had 
 found the pearl of great price, he did not rest 
 content with possessing that blessing himself, 
 but, with all the fervor of his earnest nature, 
 urged others to come and gain the eternal riches 
 so freely offered to all. 
 
 Robbie still worked on with increasing faith 
 and zeal; the meetings greatly strengthened his 
 purposes. He had not, however, so far overcome 
 sin and an evil heart that temptations and even 
 failures of duty were unknown to him, but he 
 now more than ever realized the need of hourly 
 cleansing in the fountain opened to take away his 
 sin. Every mght he was grieved to look back 
 over a day in which some work for Jesus had 
 been left undone; some easily besetting sin 
 yielded to ; but, helpless as he felt himself to be, 
 there was joy, supreme and abiding, in the con- 
 sciousness that in Christ he could find strength 
 and grace necessary to help him even in this 
 world to overcome ; and that, not when he was 
 
jaBttOmm 
 
 108 
 
 /lo6iir Meredith. 
 
 old and the world had lost its charm, and its al. 
 lurements were not so strangely sweet. But 
 now. ,n the early dawnings of manhood, as well 
 as .n ,ts full strength, he looked to have his Lord 
 takmg stronger possession of his affections, of 
 h>s entire being, so that one day he trusted to be 
 entirely what his Heavenly Father would have 
 him be. 
 
 Was it an expectatioi. beyond what the Bible 
 warrants a Christian attempting? A state too 
 blessed for an heir of gloiy while yet on earth at- 
 tempting to realize ? 
 
 After it was decided the services had been held 
 sufficiently long they gradually ceased, until the 
 usual Wednesday prayer-meeting was the one 
 public service of the week. 
 
 Robbie felt grieved as he thought of the many 
 who were yet unconverted, and would willingly 
 
 have walked the mile and more every evening 
 after his day's work was done if they had deemed 
 It advisable to continu'e. 
 At last he gained courage and went to his min- 
 
K^l^i 
 
 harm, and its al< 
 ;ly sweet. But 
 Janhood, as well 
 o have his Lord 
 s affections, of 
 le trusted to be 
 er would have 
 
 Bvhat the Bible 
 ? A state too 
 et on earth at- 
 
 had been held 
 wed, until the 
 was the one 
 
 t of the many 
 >uld willingly 
 very evening 
 ^ had deemed 
 
 >t to his rain- 
 
 Christian Work. 
 
 109 
 
 ister with a plan that had been troubling him for 
 days. If Mr. Carthen were willing he would get 
 those of the lads near his own age to hold a 
 prayer-meeting together once a week. 
 
 Of course Mr. Carthen gladly gave his consent, 
 and then Robbie's next endeavor was to get boys 
 willing to join him in the undertaking. He 
 spoke to Dick Williams first, who consented to 
 attend the meeting. He would promise nothing 
 further. Notwithstanding all his endeavors, 
 Robbie could get no more than five willing to 
 have their names enrolled among the little band, 
 and these were only obtained by the most urgent 
 entreaties. 
 
 He chose Saturday evening for their prayer- 
 meeting, and as he finished up his weeks labors 
 on that day, it was with fear and trembling he 
 looked forward to the hour so rapidly ap- — 'fil- 
 ing. 
 
 A little before the appointed time Robbie was 
 at the door, key in hand, but up and down the 
 long stretch of road that lay like a brown be't 
 
 4.< 
 
Tit 
 
 .1 
 
 II' 
 
 no 
 
 Robbie Mertdith. 
 
 between the meadows on either side, no persoh 
 was visible in the bright moonlight. 
 
 With a heavy heart he turned the key and en- 
 tered the softly illumined house. How silent 
 everything seemed ; oppressively so, after the ac- 
 customed buzz of children's voices. Only the 
 clock told of the departing moments in its sol- 
 cmn, measured tone. 
 
 Robbie hastened to light the lamp with which 
 he had provided himself, hoping some of the boys 
 might see it and come. 
 
 It seemed a long lime waiting, as he sat there 
 in the shadowy room. He was beginning to 
 yield to a feeling of discouragement, when htt 
 heard the door softly open. As he turned to 
 look, Dick Williams Vas just closing the door 
 behind him. He was alone. Robbie then gave 
 up all hope of any one else coming. Where 
 were all the lads, he wondered, who had seemed 
 so deeply impressed during the meetings. 
 
 When Dick saw only Robbie present, he 
 looked relieved. His promise had been kept at 
 
side, no persoh 
 bt. 
 
 the key and en< 
 e. How silent 
 so, after the ac- 
 ces. Only the 
 lents in its soI< 
 
 imp with which 
 •Rie of the boys 
 
 as he sat there 
 beginning to 
 nent, when ht 
 > he turned to 
 >sing the door 
 bbie then gave 
 ming. Where 
 10 had seemed 
 etings. 
 
 e present, he 
 1 been kept at 
 
 Christian Work. 
 
 Ill 
 
 consid'.iable self-sacrifice, and now there would 
 not be any meeting, and lie would have very lit- 
 tle annoyance with it after all. 
 
 But he was disappointed. Robbie opened his 
 little pocket Bible immediately, saying : 
 
 " We need not wait further, we shall be the 
 only ones to-night." 
 
 Dick moved uneasily on his seat ; this was go- 
 ing to be worse than he bargained for. A con- 
 gregation of two was likely to be far more per- 
 sonal in its tendency than a much larger one 
 would be. 
 
 Robbie chose the story of Christ's crucifixion 
 which he read with a pathos not often heard. 
 He read as if it bad been the death scene of a 
 friend whom he knew and loved above all others. 
 His own tears were flowing before he had fin- 
 ished, and Dick, too, came to listen as he had 
 never done before to that well-known story. It 
 seemed only a fitting close to those sad words 
 when Robbie, falling on his knees, poured out 
 his full heart to that crucified, yet now exalted 
 .Friend and Saviour. 
 
 _^™r 
 
Il 
 
 l:il 
 
 iia 
 
 Robbie Mtrtdith. 
 
 Dick at first trembled, an^ then as his compan- 
 ion's petitions grew more fervent, the tears came 
 dropping on the bench before him. When Rob- 
 bie ceased he did not wait for an invitation to 
 pray, but with strong emotion, cried : 
 
 " O Lord forgive me a wicked sinner I I have 
 tried to forget that I have a soul to save, but I 
 want to be one of thy followers. Help rae to 
 overcome Satan and my own wicked heart." 
 
 This prayer was mote than Robbie dared to 
 expect, and the conversation they held, as they 
 followed the moon-lit path across the meadows, 
 encouraged him still more. He learned then 
 that his companion had, since first the meetings 
 began, been anxious about his soul, but they had 
 come to an end, and he was apparently as far 
 from being a Christian as when they commenced ; 
 and as the days went by, and things began to 
 settle back into their old grooves, he thought less 
 and less of religious subjects, and was trying to 
 satisfy the workings of an uneasy conscience by 
 promises that when he got older, or at the very 
 first revival he would certainly be a Christian; 
 
Christian Work. 
 
 113 
 
 1 as his compan* 
 , the tears came 
 n. When Rob- 
 in invitation to 
 led : 
 
 linnerl I have 
 I to save, but I 
 Help me to 
 ced heart." 
 obbie dared to 
 y held, as they 
 
 the meadows, 
 ! learned then 
 It the meetings 
 il, but they had 
 Jarently as far 
 sy commenced ; 
 lings began to 
 tie thought less 
 I was trying to 
 
 conscience by 
 or at the very 
 « a Christian; 
 
 I W i UJ-ii , I . , 
 
 but the fear would haunt him that before that 
 time would come he might be suddenly called to 
 appear before God. 
 
 " Now, he said, " I am afraid It is too late, the 
 door of mercy may be simt against me forever." 
 
 " Ah, that cannot be," Robbie replied ; " we 
 never have these fears about our soul's salvation 
 if there is no chance for us to be saved ; it is 
 only when we cease to feel that there is danger." 
 
 They parted at the fence, Robbie going home 
 wondering at his Master's gracious approval of 
 his newly begun work ; Dick to the silent barn, 
 there, alone, to pour out his soul in agonizing pe- 
 tlons for mercy. Before this he had set bis own 
 time to come to Jesus. Secure as he felt himself 
 in youth and health, now he must wait God's 
 
 time. 
 
 For several days he carried his burden. Rob- 
 bie prayed and reasoned with him all in vain, the 
 plan of salvation through faith in Christ was so 
 simple he failed to see the wonderful ease with 
 whicl- he might find pardon. 
 
I'M 
 
 WSSmm 
 
 "4 
 
 Robbie Meredith. 
 
 In the Wednesday evening prayer-meeting he 
 stood up and told, as simply as a little child 
 might have done, through what he had passed. 
 
 " I do not know," he said, with frank simplic- 
 ity, "what else may avail, but perhaps God 
 would help me if you would all unite in asking 
 him." 
 
 They all did, or so it seemed from the influence 
 instantly pervading the house, but before a single 
 prayer had been audibly uttered, peace, a great 
 peace, was filling the boy's glad heart. 
 
 Henceforth Robbie had one to encourage and 
 assist him whose whole heart was in the work. 
 
rayer-nieeting he 
 as a little child 
 lie had passed, 
 h frank simplic- 
 it perhaps God 
 i unite in asking 
 
 •om the influence 
 
 at before a single 
 
 :d, peace, a great 
 
 heart, 
 
 to encourage and 
 
 IS in the work. 
 
 the quiet country hamlet the time passed 
 uneventfully by. There was little to break 
 the monotony. An occasional death, a still rarer 
 wedding, and the birth record slowly filling up, 
 these were the most marked epochs to engross 
 the thoughts and conversation of Robbie's neigh- 
 bors. 
 
 Three years thus passed away, and then 
 changes began to come. During that time he 
 had faithfully endeavored to make the very most 
 of his few opportunities ; scarcely an hour was 
 
 suffered to run to waste. His minister's library, 
 
 (116) 
 
Ill :"\r- 
 
 ii6 
 
 Robbie Meredith. 
 
 as well as help, were freely offered, and a use 
 made of them that might have shamed many a 
 university student. 
 
 The winter evenings were his richest harvest 
 time. History and poetry, travels, essays and 
 biographies, were all read with avidity, and copi- 
 ous notes taken in the boy's own untutored fash- 
 ion, while the mysteries of the Greek and Latin 
 languages were being gradually unfolded, with 
 several of the na ural sciences. 
 
 Robbie believed it to be but a smattering of 
 each that he was acquiring, but he was surprised 
 in after years at the amount of knowledge he had 
 gained in those formative days. 
 
 The gaunt shadow of their early poverty was 
 no longer hanging over them. Helen, although 
 still very young, had become fitted for a teacher, 
 and was now more than able to support herself ; 
 while Robbie found no trouble in making both 
 ends of the year meet comfortably. No debts 
 troubled them, and the book account had long 
 since closed at Phalen's store. 
 
■Mb^. 
 
 ;red, and a use 
 shamed many a 
 
 richest harvest 
 xls, essays and 
 vidity, and copi- 
 
 untutored fash- 
 yreek and Latin 
 r unfolded, with 
 
 a smattering of 
 le was surprised 
 nowledge he had 
 
 arly poverty was 
 Helen, although 
 ted for a teacher, 
 support herself; 
 in making both 
 tably. No debts 
 iccbunt had long 
 
 Changes, 
 
 "7 
 
 Three cows ruminated contentedly in the pas- 
 ture lot, and Mary seemed capable of developing 
 into a womanhood equal to the task of attending 
 a dozen cows. 
 
 Helen could not imbue her with her own ambi- 
 tious notions abmit teaching school, and so rising 
 in the world. With a careless independence she 
 maintained that helping her mother and Robbie 
 on the farm, or even working it herself, was fully 
 as respectable as dress-making or school-teach- 
 ing. " Besides," she would add, " I like it better, 
 and I am far more my own mistress, and that is 
 worth a good deal." 
 
 She resented all her ambitious plans for Rob- 
 bie ; unlike as the two were in their tastes, there 
 was yet a strong affection between them, and 
 perhaps no one knew the cherished hopes of the 
 quiet lad better than his healthy, impulsive sister. 
 She hoped one day, and that no very distant one, 
 to take charge of the farm herself and support 
 the little mother, and keep the home together, 
 letting Robbie go out into the world unfettered 
 
 m 
 
■mm 
 
 HSif 
 
 -i!! 
 
 ii8 
 
 Robbie Meredith. 
 
 to seek the education he could never gain at 
 home. 
 
 Robbie had several times been amused by 
 grave hints as to her future plans. She was now 
 no longer kept at home for want of suitable ha- 
 biliments to appear at Sunday-school and church. 
 . Spare hours were diligently employed in man- 
 ufacturing yarn into garments that found ready 
 purchasers in the nearest town. In this way 
 their unassuming wardrobe was kept amply sup- 
 plied. 
 
 . No wonder the little mother looked upon her 
 children, clever in their several ways, with all a 
 fond parent's pride. 
 
 Robbie and Dick still held their little prayer- 
 meeting in the old red school-house ; and as the 
 years went by they had cause for encouragement 
 in seeing that their efforts were not lost. Dick 
 had confided to Robbie his ardent longing to 
 give his life and talents, if he had any, to the ser- 
 vice of the Lord. 
 
 " I should like best of all," he would say, " to 
 
never gain at 
 
 ;en amused by 
 . She was now 
 t of suitable ha- 
 lool and church, 
 iployed in man- 
 lat found ready 
 i. In this way 
 kept amply sup- 
 
 ooked upon her 
 ways, with all a 
 
 eir little prayer- 
 use ; and as the 
 ■ encouragement 
 not lost. Dick 
 lent longing to 
 I any, to the ser- 
 
 : would say, " to 
 
 Changes. 
 
 119 
 
 be a missionary ; but if I am not clever enough 
 for that, if I could just work for Christ and poor 
 souls in the humblest way I should be satisfied." 
 Robbie urged him to study something useful 
 every spare moment, and, if he could get his fa- 
 ther's consent and help, go to college and get the 
 best possible J)reparation for the work of the min- 
 istry. 
 
 Dick could not find courage to tell his father 
 his wish, so one day Robbie spoke for him. 
 
 " Would you be willing," he asked, " for Dick 
 to be a minister ? " 
 
 "To be a minister! Why, what put that in 
 your head ? " 
 
 " Because he would rather be that than any- 
 thing in the world, if you would give your con- 
 sent and help to get him fitted." 
 
 With eyes, in which a strange moisture glis- 
 tened, the kind old man fervently answered : 
 
 •• If God will honor me enough to ask my boy 
 for his work, I will give all I am able to prepare 
 him for it ; you may tell him so if he don't want 
 
mmmm 
 
 M 
 
 ^ 
 
 1 20 
 
 Robbie Meredith. 
 
 to talk with me about it." 
 
 " Oh, he was afraid for fear you would not be 
 willing, he will be very glad to talk to you about 
 it now." 
 
 The next week Dick's studies commenced ; he 
 went with Robbie to his pastor's study, where he 
 continued taking lessons until the opening of 
 another academical year in the college, whither 
 his father purposed sending him. 
 
 " Wouldn't you like to preach, too, Robbie ? " 
 Dick inquired of him one day after lessons. 
 
 " Yes, if the Lord called me, but maybe there 
 is something else for me to do. I mean to get 
 all the knowledge I can, and then be ready as far 
 as possible for whatever my life-work may be." 
 
 When Marv uiscr^vered that Robbie could get 
 through college on account of the advanced state 
 of his studies a year sooner than Dick, her deter- 
 mination was taken that he should go. She 
 ^ knew they could manage without him, and per- 
 haps be able to help him, too. 
 
 If he were only going to preach, she regret- 
 

 lU would not be 
 Ik to you about 
 
 ommenced; he 
 study, where he 
 the opening of 
 college, whither 
 
 , too, Robbie ? " 
 er lessons, 
 but maybe there 
 I mean to get 
 1 be ready as far 
 work may be." 
 lobbie couJd get 
 e advanced state 
 Dick, her deter- 
 should go. She 
 ut him, and per- 
 
 each, she regret- 
 
 Cftanges. 
 
 121 
 
 fully thought, the church would help him, as 
 there was provision made in the institution for 
 indigent students. 
 She said to him one day : 
 " Why can't you be a minister, too, Robbie, 
 and then you could get through college?" 
 
 "What if the Lord does not wish me to 
 preach ? Besides, we have been helped so much 
 in the past, I could not think of being indebted 
 to others for my education, not while I can get it 
 
 myself." 
 Mary knew it would be no use to reason with 
 
 him, so she said : 
 "Couldn't you teach school, then, and earn the 
 
 money ? " 
 
 "But what would you do without me at 
 home?" Robbie looked into those fearless 
 brown eyes that often shone so grandly when 
 some difficulty was in her path. 
 
 "Oh! if you and mother would only let me 
 try, I know we could make a living here alone; 
 
laa 
 
 Robbie Meredith. 
 
 you could help us in the holidays ; and see how 
 much butter and cloth I can make, more thaa 
 enough to buy all we need and pay for hired help 
 too." 
 
 " I should be ashamed to lay such a burden on 
 a young girl's shoulders." 
 
 " But it would be a pleasure, Robbie. You do 
 not know how glad I should be if you would only 
 let me try, and if I fail, you can come home and 
 there would not be much lost." 
 
 Robbie did not reply, but Mary could not but 
 see the eager look in his face as he turned 
 thoughtfully away. 
 
 The next step would be to gain her mother's 
 co-operation, then success would be certain. In 
 this she succeeded beyond her expectations. 
 Her mother she found fully as anxious as herself 
 to have Robbie go ; and when the plan was men- 
 tioned in the letter iuimediately dispatched to 
 Helen, the latter gladly offered to make every 
 sacrifice to help Robbie on. 
 
I. 
 
 Changes. 
 
 123 
 
 ys ; and see how 
 nake, more than 
 ay for hired help 
 
 • 
 
 uch a burden on 
 
 lobbie. You do 
 
 you would only 
 
 come home and 
 
 ry could not but 
 e as he turned 
 
 in her mother's 
 be certain. In 
 :r expectations, 
 ixious as herself 
 e plan was men- 
 y dispatched to 
 to make every 
 
 Farmer Williams also volunteered every assist- 
 ance in his power. " I will take charge of your 
 women folks," he said, " and if I think they are 
 doing too much, I will send for you to come 
 
 home." 
 
 Surely the way was getting very plain before 
 Robbie. That spring he worked harder than 
 ever. A large grain crop was put in, this he 
 might be able to get stored himself, and if not, 
 Mary would be obliged to hire help. As for 
 roots, he was pretty certain she would store them 
 
 unaided. 
 
 She wondered at the narrow strip of potatoes 
 and the slim vegetable garden. It did not occur 
 to her that Robbie had a purpose in sowing the 
 acres of wheat and barley, and that it was to save 
 
 her h€ planned so well. 
 
 It proved an early season that year, providen- 
 tially so to Robbie, for he was able to get the 
 hay and grain harvested, and only lost a week or 
 two at the beginning of school. To be sure his 
 
'< 
 
 134 
 
 Robbie Mtredith. 
 
 face was as brown as a nut, so at least Mary told 
 him, and his hands hard with honest labor ; but 
 the light in those soft gray eyes was just as 
 bright as if he had not faced the summer's heat 
 in the meadow lands about his home. 
 
 " BIB * 
 
i. 
 
 It least Mary told 
 onest labor; but 
 :ye8 was just as 
 be summer's heat 
 lome. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 001 NO TO COLLEGE. 
 
 ^ HE day came at last when Robbie must 
 leave the quiet, happ> home and '.he little 
 mother, who seemed to take, as yet, all the room 
 in that still boyish heart. 
 
 The day before he was to leave, it had been 
 raining, a gentle, steady, down-dropping from the 
 leaden skies, and so, instead of going to say 
 good-by to his neighbors as he had purposed, 
 Robbie had all the day at home with his mother. 
 They were packing his clothes, not a very 
 heavy task it must be confessed, but Mrs. Mere- 
 dith and Mary had done their best to make him 
 decently comfortable ; and of one portion of his 
 wardrobe Robbie would certainly have no cause 
 
 1126) 
 
.ir«, ., MSalMM 
 
 ! 
 
 m 
 
 I* 
 
 Hoddit Meredith. 
 
 to be ashamed,— the snowy shirts with the neatly 
 stitched linen fronts. 
 
 " No one need know," Mary said, consolingly, 
 " but what they arc all linen." 
 
 " I do not wish any one to think so, if they 
 think about it at all," Robbie replied ; " for a boy 
 who has to work his way at school should not in- 
 dulge in such extravagance." 
 
 Mary had manufactured him a suit of gray 
 homespun ; it was fine and smooth, and when it 
 was ready for him to wear she thought her tall 
 broad-shouldered boy looked his very best in it. 
 It was to be his every-day suit. 
 
 " You need not be very careful of it," she said 
 to him before leaving, "for I have saved wool 
 enough to make you another suit by Christmas ; 
 and if you see any poor fellow there short of 
 socks, " may share with him, for there are 
 more than enough to last you a year," and she 
 pointed to a goodly heap of soft white wool ones. 
 
 His books he packed himself, and then sat 
 watching while his mother and Mary laid his gar- 
 
i 
 
 Going to College. 
 
 127 
 
 ■ with the neatly 
 
 laid, consolingly, 
 
 hink 80, if they 
 lied ; " for a boy 
 >1 should not in- 
 
 a suit of gray 
 )th, and when it 
 thought her tall 
 
 very best in it. 
 
 of it," she said 
 ave saved wool 
 : by Christmas ; 
 
 there short of 
 I, for there are 
 year," and she 
 ^hite wool ones. 
 , and then sat 
 ary laid his gar- 
 
 ments, one by one, carefully within the large old- 
 fasliioncd trunk that had belonged to his father. 
 
 At last everything was done, Robbie did not 
 know how lingeringly, as well as lovingly, his 
 mother had loitered over that task. There 
 seemed so little now that she could do for her 
 boy ; a mother's heart generally prophesies truly, 
 and she knew in her own heart that he would no 
 longer be all her own as he had in those precious 
 years now gone forever. She knew he would 
 never cease to love her, but still he could not 
 need her in the prosperous busy future she 
 believed to be before him, as he had done in the 
 pinched, ofttimcs sorrowful past, that now seemed 
 so blessed. 
 
 The evening wore on, and still the rain-drops 
 were pattering against the old, gray shingles tiiat 
 did not turn the dampness as once they did. 
 
 " How lonely we shall be when you are away, 
 and we here listening alone to the summer rains 
 and winter storms," Mrs. Meredith said, with a 
 quiver in her voice. 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
Robbie Meredith. 
 
 Oh, mother, that is what makes mr feel more 
 sad than glad to-night, the thought of your lone- 
 liness," Robbie sadly replied. "Sometimes I 
 wish I had never thought of going, we were just 
 beginning to get so comfortable, and now there 
 will be nothing but pinching and starving just 
 like it has been for years." 
 
 " Never mind, Robbie, we may have a pleasant 
 home again some time. I know I shall be happy 
 if that good time ever comes." 
 
 " I need not stay very long away if you find it 
 too hard and lonely getting on here. I can easily 
 come, and maybe it's as much my duty to stay 
 and make you comfortable and happy, as to go to 
 college to try and fit myself to do some great 
 work that, after all, may never come to me to get 
 
 done." ' 
 
 Mary had not spoken. Her good, healthy, 
 
 common sense view of the matter set both the 
 
 mother and her son in a happier mood. 
 
 "Don't let us look at the gloomy side any 
 
 longer," she said, cheerily ; " if every one gave 
 
 yo 
 
 wi 
 
 sw 
 
Going to CoVLegt. 
 
 129 
 
 2S mr feel more 
 it of your lone- 
 
 " Sometimes I 
 g, we were just 
 
 and now there 
 d starving just 
 
 have a pleasant 
 I shall be happy 
 
 ay if you find it 
 ;re. I can easily 
 my duty to stay 
 lappy, as to go to 
 do some great 
 ome to me to get 
 
 ■■#■ . 
 ;r good, healthy, 
 Iter set both the 
 r mood. 
 
 gloomy side any 
 f every one gave 
 
 way so easily, the world would soon be going 
 backward. Of course it seems hard to-night to 
 have Robbie leave us, but we shall be looking 
 soon for his letters, and then better still to see 
 him home again in our old house a gentleman. 
 You will forget, mother, all your present sorrow 
 and loneliness in the pride you will take in the 
 handsome, clever man who will still honor you as 
 the best little mother in the wide world." 
 
 " Well done, Mary ! What a sunbeam you are 
 in the gloom we were straying into ; if I could 
 only have you with me when I get discouraged 
 as I am certain I shall ) " 
 
 " Well, you see, mother needs me most, but if 
 you don't get a wife too soon we will go and live 
 with you, won't we, mother?" 
 
 " Perhaps so, Mary." 
 
 " Ah, Mary ! I fear I need never promise my- 
 self much pleasure from having you in my home ; 
 some lucky fellow will rol) me of that, I am cer- 
 tain." 
 
 " There is a possibility," was the half saucy an- 
 swer. But there did not seem to be, for the 
 
 riiv.jafsjifcAi^feA'W'-- 
 
Ijo 
 
 Hobbi* Mtreditk. 
 
 i| ! 
 
 light, brave-hearted girl did not take so kindly to 
 beaux as the generality of her sex at her age, 
 much to poor Dick's disappointment, who truly 
 Joved the noble girl. 
 
 They did not get to talking so gloomily again, 
 but the next morning, when the wagon came to 
 drive Robbie to the station with his luggage, 
 Mrs. Meredith broke down. Robbie could not 
 help seeing that the breakfast she pretended to 
 eat, and which was so daintily prepared by his 
 loving sister's hands, was scarcely touched, while 
 his own appetite was not much better. She 
 could not speak the good-by, but the soft blue 
 eyes that had rarely looked upon him but in love 
 were overflowing, while the gentle face, paler 
 than usual, was sadly watching the last of her 
 boy. 
 
 Mary brushed away a few tears in her matter 
 of fact way, as though it were qrite a usual cir- 
 cumstance for her to weep, and said good-by as 
 calmly as if he were a stranger about to leave 
 their fireside. 
 
 But neither Robbie nor his mother dreamed bow 
 
 
Going to ColUgo. 
 
 I3> 
 
 ke so kindly to 
 ex at her age, 
 lent, who truly 
 
 gloomily again, 
 ivagon came to 
 h his luggage, 
 3bie could not 
 le pretended to 
 repared by his 
 touched, while 
 ) better. She 
 : the soft blue 
 lim but in luve 
 tie face, paler 
 he last of her 
 
 in her matter 
 'ite a usual cir- 
 aid good-by as 
 ibout to leave 
 
 ar dreamed bow 
 
 ^^w-^SS?*' 
 
 (tad a look her face wore as she drove the cows 
 to pasture, nor heard the low sobs that could not 
 be restrained now that she was alone. She had 
 made light of the burden she bad assumed as 
 though it were mere child's play, but when Rob- 
 bie was really gone, no wonder the scarcely more 
 than child should shrink from the care of house 
 and farm with a momentary terror. 
 
 The long, cold winter lay before her, with the 
 work outside and in the house to be attended to, 
 through cold and storm ; and what she dreaded 
 more than this was the solitude and loneliness of 
 their secluded home. 
 
 The cows were a long time getting settled to 
 their grazing lot, or so it might have seemed to 
 Mrs. Meredith had she not been oblivious to 
 everything but Robbie's departure. 
 
 Mary came home at last ; she had bathed her 
 hot face first in the brook that skirted the farther 
 side of the meadow, and when she entered the 
 clean well-ordered kitchen, whom should she see 
 but Nancy, with her bonnet off and laid away 
 
glg^_ 
 
 Robbie Meredith, 
 
 with her shawl and parasol on the front room 
 table. 
 
 Nancy could afford now to indulge in those 
 feminine bits of adornment so dear to her heart, 
 but which had hitherto been a coveted pleasure. 
 Once Nancy's Sunday best bonnet could hang 
 becomingly on a peg in Mrs. Meredith's kitchen, 
 but times were changed now, those gay flowers 
 and feathers would ill become the kitchen wall. 
 
 Mary felt greatly relieved when she saw her 
 mother would be comforted better by that kind 
 old maiden than by any one, her own heart was 
 full, and it probably was that which made her so 
 demonstrative, for she surprised Nancy by going 
 directly to her side, and with the plump fair arms 
 about the wrinkled neck, gave the homely mouth 
 an affectionate kiss, saying as she did so : 
 
 " You are more welcome than violets in spring. 
 I am so glad your things are off, can't you stay 
 a few days with us ? " 
 
 " Yes, and longer, if you care to have me." 
 
 Mary gladly extended an indefinite welcome. 
 
 in 
 th 
 h< 
 th 
 
 e£ 
 ti 
 
 w 
 
 b< 
 c: 
 
 -•^^asx-^is!. 
 
Going to ColUfgt. 
 
 ge in those 
 to her heart, 
 ed pleasure. 
 
 could hang 
 Lh's kitchen, 
 
 gay flowers 
 :chen wall, 
 she saw her 
 >y that kind 
 n heart was 
 made her so 
 icy by going 
 mp fair arms 
 »mely mouth 
 d so: 
 
 its in spring, 
 n't you stay 
 
 ave me." 
 te welcome. 
 
 inly wishing she would make her home with 
 them. Her heart was overjoyed before night to 
 hear Nancy make the proposal to her mother 
 that she should come and board with them. 
 
 " Oh, say yes I won't you, mother ? " Mary 
 eagerly exclaimed without giving her mother 
 time to reply. 
 
 " Of course I would gladly have her come if 
 she can content herself where it is so lonely," 
 was the pleased reply. So it was settled, and 
 before another week Nancy was quite domesti- 
 cated in her new home. 
 
ODAY the last term ends." This was 
 
 Mrs. Meredith's first thought, one 
 
 bright June morning, when she awoke; they 
 
 were the first words she heard from Mary's lips, 
 
 as that delighted damsel came in from the clover 
 
 and scented, dewy air, with overflowing buckets 
 
 of foamy milk. 
 
 How those two loving hearts had counted the 
 
 days, and even hours, to this bright day when 
 
 school would be done, and then another day or 
 
 two and Robbie would be with them. 
 
 It had seemed to Mrs. Meredith that the slow* 
 (134) 
 
 bi 
 ir 
 
 a 
 
 1( 
 
 c 
 
 t 
 
 I 
 
 % 
 
 ,n.,«»ni«»fi,.(. ..»»»■» 
 
Vacation. 
 
 Hi 
 
 I. " This was 
 ibought, one 
 iwoke ; they 
 I Mary's lips, 
 Dm the clover 
 wing buckets 
 
 I counted the 
 
 ht day when 
 
 lother day or 
 
 I. 
 
 that the slow- 
 
 moving hours of childhood had returned, so 
 slowly did the days and weeks roll round. Every 
 week there had been letters from Robbie; long, 
 complete ones, but they only increased the long- 
 ing to see the writer. 
 
 She had had the satisfaction of knowing that 
 he took more than his share of school honors. 
 This she had learned through Dick's letters to 
 his father. His friend and school-mate seemed 
 as proud of Robbie's success as if they had been 
 
 brothers. 
 
 That day wore slowly away to Mrs. Meredith, 
 but not so to Mary. Such a scouring and clean- 
 ing, arranging and re-arranging of their house 
 and its furnishings, had never been. Home must 
 look its brightest, or Robbie might feel the con- 
 contrast too strongly between the poor little cot- 
 tage and the fine college and finer homes sur- 
 rounding it, to which the poor f ,irm-i4^d had now 
 become a welcome visitor. 
 
 But when all her genius and strength, too, had 
 been exhausted, a look of dissatisfaction clouded 
 
1 I 
 
 
 I I 
 
 fjtf 
 
 Robbis Meredith. 
 
 the brave, hopeful face, the house was so bare 
 and poor. 
 
 She had painted the parlor floor, together with 
 the faded wood-work, while she had decorated the 
 walls with a pretty light bit of papering; but the 
 curtains, older than she was. were sadly faded, 
 and the darns were multitudinous, while the rest 
 of the furniture was equally shabby. 
 
 Robbie's bed-room, though, was a perfect little 
 conservatory. She had gathered vines from the 
 wood, and robbed her own little flower-plot, to 
 decorate it 
 
 The evening of his expected arrival came at 
 last. AM the house was redolent of soap-suds 
 and cleanliness, while the pantr,r had not so over- 
 flowed with delicacies since Mary's .earliest recol- 
 lection. Her mother had been dressed long ago 
 and watching through the open door, where Mary 
 had carried her easy chair, for the carriage that 
 was expected to bring the boys home from the 
 station. 
 
 Mary had so many finishing touches to add to 
 
 \ ' 
 
ise was so bare 
 
 or, together with 
 ad decorated the 
 ipering; but the 
 ire sadly faded, 
 s, while the rest 
 by. 
 
 5 a perfect little 
 
 vines from the 
 
 i flower-plot, to 
 
 arrival came at 
 It of soap-suds 
 lad not so over- 
 s .earliest recol- 
 Bssed long ago, 
 or, where Mary 
 B carriage that 
 lome from the 
 
 iches to add to 
 
 I 
 
Vacation. 
 
 137 
 
 parlor and kitchen that her mother at last began 
 to worry lest Robbie should come and find her 
 in soiled wrapper and tumbled hair, and it was 
 only in obedience to her mother's command that 
 she left her imaginary work to make herself pre- 
 sentable. 
 
 There was plenty of time, however, for the 
 train was unusually late that evening, and at last 
 Mary decided to drive home the cows and get her 
 milking done. Soon old White-face and her 
 companions saw their mistress at the pasture 
 bars, and sauntered leisurely down in answer to 
 her call through the perfumed sunset air. 
 
 It was a pretty picture, or at least so Dick 
 thought, as he crossed the lots from Mrs. Mere- 
 dith's to nis own home, when he saw the brown- 
 haired maiden leaning against the bars, waiting 
 for the cows who were coming at her call. She 
 did not know he was there, nor did he make her 
 aware of his presence. It was only when she 
 had finished milking and gone into the house 
 that she found that Robbie bad come. 
 
 i 
 
■MmiMiMaai 
 
 U. 
 
 II) 
 
 Robdit Mtrtdith. 
 
 How he had grown, and how handsome he 
 was, she thought as she saw him through the 
 door. He did not hear her enter the room. He 
 was Mitting on a low stool at his mother's side, 
 her thin white hand stroking the thick clustering 
 curls. She went softly behind him, and before 
 he was aware of her presence, her arms were 
 folded about him, and between laughing and cry> 
 ing she was giving him his welcome home. 
 
 They had not much appetite for Mary's care- 
 fully provided tea, and after they arose from the 
 table, Robbie proposed that they take a stroll 
 through the fields. 
 
 "I want to see how you are getting on as a 
 farmer," he said to Mary ; but he was more ftur- 
 prised than pleased when he saw the potato 
 patch and field of grain, especially when his 
 mother told him how much of the former had 
 been performed by Mary, and how small a debt 
 now remained for hired help in getting the grain 
 sowed. 
 
 "She has been at the spinning-wheel before 
 
 mssmm. 
 
 „,„ma<mummim 
 
■■■Illllll 
 
 ^ 
 
 Vaeation. 
 
 139 
 
 handsome he 
 1 through the 
 he room. He 
 mother's side, 
 lick clustering 
 vn, and before 
 er arms were 
 (hing and cry- 
 e home, 
 r Mary's care- 
 rose from the 
 take a stroll 
 
 stting on ai a 
 fas more ftur- 
 V the potato 
 lly when his 
 e former had 
 ' small a debt 
 ing the grain 
 
 wheel before 
 
 sunrise nearly every morning this summer, and 
 has paid for the work done in that way." Mrs. 
 
 Meredith said. 
 " I am sorry to hear that," Robbie replied. 
 "Why, she was anxious to please you by hav- 
 ing a good crop in, Robbie." 
 
 " She has more than pleased me, mother. I do 
 not like to think my sister is working like a 
 slave, while I am doing next to nothing with my 
 hands, only using my brain a little." 
 
 " It has not hurt me. Robbie, and there is no 
 disgrace in honest iabor. When we get richer it 
 may not be too late for me to begin studying 
 
 too." 
 «' She has been studying every spare moment, 
 
 Robbie," her mother said fondly. 
 
 "Your time shall come sooner, perhaps, than 
 you think for. my brave litUe sister," Robbie said 
 
 tremulously. 
 
 Before they reached the house they were 
 joined by Dick. He, too, had greatly changed, 
 and when Mary looked into that bright, pleasant 
 
I40 
 
 Robbie Meredith. 
 
 face, over which there had somehow c«.«me an in- 
 definable change that caused a feeling of shyness 
 to which she had hitherto been a stranger, she 
 inly wondered how he could ever have fancied a 
 careless, fun-loving hoyden like herself. 
 
 The evening was short. It was past their 
 usual bed-time when the lamp was lighted, so 
 that midnight was not very far distant when 
 Dick arose to go. 
 
 " Shall we have prayers first ? " Robbie asked. 
 " Your folks will be in bed long before this." 
 
 Dick complied, and taking the Bible, read a 
 Psalm, and then, 4n a few simple words, thanked 
 the Father in heaven who had been with them 
 through the departed year, and had spared them 
 to meet again. 
 
 Mrs. Meredith and Mary were now no longer 
 in doubt as to Robbie's plans for the future. 
 During their walk through the meadow that 
 evening, in the misty gloaming, he had told 
 them what he hoped to do the coming year. 
 
 " I shall work at home during the holidays," 
 
 he s 
 
 take 
 
 very 
 
 kno\ 
 « ' 
 
 bie, 
 
 was 
 « 
 
 ban! 
 
 in r 
 
 Rot 
 
 SOUl 
 « 
 
 « 
 
 coll 
 qui! 
 and 
 coll 
 
 ■imS^a^M-.- 
 
ow ci>me an in- 
 ling of shyness 
 a stranger, she 
 
 have fancied a 
 
 rself. 
 
 vas past their 
 
 vas lighted, so 
 
 distant when 
 
 Robbie asked, 
 lore this." 
 
 Bible, read a 
 Bvords, thanked 
 ;en with them 
 d spared them 
 
 now no longer 
 or the future, 
 meadow that 
 , he had told 
 ling year, 
 the holidays," 
 
 Vacation, 
 
 141 
 
 
 he said, "and when school begins, return and 
 take a different way of living. I can get a room 
 very cheaply, and board myself, while Mary, I 
 know will supply me with a bed." 
 
 " Yes, and nearly all your provisions, too, Rob- 
 bie, if it don't cost too much to got them there," 
 was the hearty reply. 
 
 " Ah, Mary, you are determined on making me 
 bankrupt. I shall never be able to do as much 
 in return for you." 
 
 " I do not like to hear you talk in that way, 
 Robbie ; you will forgive me if I tell you that it 
 sounds childish to me." 
 " Never mindj then, I won't do so any more." 
 " But how will you clothe yourself 3nd pay the 
 college fees, Robbie ? " his mother anxiously in- 
 quired. She knew that Mary, with all her energy 
 and thrift, could not quite support their young 
 collegian. 
 
 " I have not told you yet that the Board have 
 offered me a situation as under tutor. I think I 
 am indebted to Mr. Carthen for this, you know 
 
1^ 
 
 k 
 
 149 
 
 Robbie Meredith. 
 
 he is a city preacher now. and his church is quite 
 convenient to the college, so that I see him 
 oftener than when he was here. He is just the 
 same kind friend as ever." 
 
 " I hope the Lord will bless him wherever he 
 may go," Mrs. Meredith fervently exclaimed. 
 
 " But what will be your salary ? " his practical 
 sister eagerly asked. 
 
 " I cannot say what, but it will, I know, be 
 sufficient to help me greatly in my economical 
 way of living. But, mother, I am planning all 
 this so smoothly, and I have not a^ked you yet 
 if you a e willing I should return. Do you not 
 find the task a heavy one, getting along witho^i 
 
 riyhelp?" 
 
 " We find it lonely, Robbie ; but i should far 
 sooner have you go ; and if Mary does not get 
 wearied you need :iOt be troubled ; for, after all, 
 the whole burden comes on her young shoul- 
 ders." 
 
 " Never fear for me, Robbie. I believe I can 
 
 get on finely and help you, toa" 
 
 
f 
 
 Vacation. 
 
 HZ 
 
 1 church is quite 
 
 that I see him 
 
 He is just the 
 
 him wherevsr he 
 y exclaimed. 
 } " his practical 
 
 will, I know, be 
 n my economical 
 am planning all 
 )t a^ked you yet 
 rn. Do you not 
 ng along witho^w 
 
 but i should far 
 lary does not get 
 ed ; for, after all, 
 der young shoul- 
 
 ; I believe I can 
 
 And 86, before Dick came in and told the 
 proud little mother, and equally proud sister, how 
 nobly their boy had passed his examination, and 
 how much the teachers expected from him, they 
 had cheerfully consented to unother year's lone- 
 liness. * 
 
 And so the short vacation passed. Robbie 
 scarcely looked inside a book, except to give 
 Mary her daily lessons, but devoted all his time 
 to working on the farm, and patching up the 
 house and barn, both of which sorely needed 
 thorough repairing ; or better still to be pulled 
 down and rebuilt, but probably for years this 
 could not be donr. 
 
 Dick's evenings were spent mostly with Rob- 
 bie. The latter shrewdly guessed that he was 
 not the magnet attracting his friend so frequently 
 to the old brown farm-house. 
 
 Mary had lost much of her free, playful man- 
 ner when in Dick's society. Only now and 
 then did she indulge in those mischievous gleams 
 of v/it that made her company so attractive to 
 

 both old and young. From the sparkle of his 
 eyes, and the merry dimples that played about 
 his face at such rare seasons, Mrs. Meredith im- 
 agined that all the fun had not been absorbed in 
 his nature by hard study, and the solemn life- 
 work to which he had devoted himself. ' 
 
 " I should not admire and like him half so well 
 if he were all the time grave," Robbie said, in an- 
 swer to a somewhat troubled remark of his 
 mother's one day respecting their young friend. 
 " He can be just as good and earnest as if he 
 didn't enjoy Mary's droll humor; and I only 
 hope he will get her to brighten all his life some 
 day when he gets ready to take a wife." 
 
 " Oh, Robbie I our little girl would never do 
 for a minister's wife ; how could you think such 
 a thing?" 
 
 "Why not, mother?" 
 
 "She is too lively. I am afraid she would 
 shock her husband's people with her quaint say- 
 ings." 
 
 " She never says anything but what is honest 
 
 and 
 hai: 
 
 Hi 
 hei 
 bel 
 wh 
 for 
 mi 
 Gi 
 fit 
 ec 
 ke 
 
 sp 
 pe 
 
 o\ 
 
 lo 
 a 
 
 Mi 
 
sparkle of his 
 t played about 
 ■s. Meredith im- 
 een absorbed in 
 he solemn life- 
 nself. 
 
 bim half so well 
 bbie said, in an- 
 
 retnark of his 
 r young friend, 
 earnest as if he 
 ar; and I only 
 all his life some 
 I wife." 
 would never do 
 
 you think such 
 
 Eraid she would 
 I her quaint say- 
 
 t what is honest 
 
 VacaiioH. 
 
 145 
 
 and pure. It is just what the world needs, more 
 happy and unselfish works like her." 
 
 " But she is not educated." 
 
 "I cannot agree with you there, mother. 
 Highly cultured she certainly is not ; but, with 
 her few advantages, she is rarely intelligent. I 
 believe she is by far the cleverest of the three, 
 which, perhaps, is not saying much for her ; and 
 for a poor man's wife, such as a majority of the 
 ministers are, she has the very best education. 
 Give her the materials and she will cook a dinner 
 fit for a bishop. She has learned the sternest 
 economy, and she is certainly a good house- 
 keeper, as our poor, shabby home hourly testifies. 
 Why, mother, when I begin to enumerate her 
 splendid qualities, I am led to think her almost 
 perfect." 
 
 " Who is that Robbie is waxing so eloquent 
 over ? " Mary asked, as she came into the room. 
 
 " I was only telling mother what a happy fel- 
 low he will be that will carry you away to make 
 a home for him some day." 
 
146 Robbit Meredith. 
 
 \-\\\ 
 
 '' Mother don't want any one to carry me 
 away." 
 
 " I could not say that I wanted you to remain 
 sing'e always, Mary. Every true man and 
 woman should have a mate and nest of their 
 own." 
 
 " Ah t that means you, too. Master Robbie. I 
 see the dove-cote we have planned for some 
 bright coming day is to be invaded by strangers ; 
 and, after all, our ideal home has been in the 
 past, not future." 
 
 " I had rather not hear you talk that way, my 
 child," her mother said. " I must believe that 
 sometime we shall all be together again, as we 
 have been in the past." 
 
 "Not here in the old weather-beaten house. 
 I cannot realize that Robbie will ever make the 
 little farm and the quiet village his home after he 
 becomes a college graduate." 
 
 " It is not wise, Mary, to think or plan very 
 much about so distant a future as that. I have 
 not begun to think what I may do, but I trust to 
 Him who has guided me thus far, and if it is my 
 
 fl 
 
 
VaeatioH. 
 
 147 
 
 d you to remain 
 true man and 
 d nest of their 
 
 Lster Robbie. I 
 nned for some 
 id by strangers ; 
 as been in the 
 
 ilk that way, my 
 iist believe that 
 ler again, as we 
 
 ;r-beaten house. 
 1 ever make the 
 is home after he 
 
 ik or plan very 
 as that. I have 
 lo, but I trust to 
 r, and if it is my 
 
 duty to come back here, I believe I should be 
 more glad than sorry. To-day I can dream of no 
 quieter and perhaps happier home than we might 
 have here together, with the poverty and care 
 forever banished." 
 
 "Wouldn't you want another woman beside 
 the three who have always been here ? " Mary 
 asked. 
 
 Robbie smiled, while a flush, not of shame, 
 flitted over his fine face. 
 
 " I might care, some day, to have that golden- 
 haired girl who gave me the candies in Fhalen's 
 store so long ago," he frankly replied. 
 
 " Why, Robbie ! do you ever see her ? " Mary 
 eagerly asked. 
 
 " Sometimes," was the quick answer. 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 " I have seen her in church a few times." 
 
 " You do not like to be questioned, I know ; 
 but will you not tell us if you are acquainted with 
 her?" 
 
 "It seems to me, Mary, I was always ac- 
 
*'l 
 
 Hi!; 
 
 
 :'li 
 
 1 I 
 
 i liil 
 
 i!ii 
 
 
 
 i Jil 
 
 Robbie Meredith. 
 
 quainted with her. I do not know if she remem- 
 bers me, but I shall never forget her, even if I 
 should not exchange a word with her while I live. 
 Are you satisfied now, little girl ? " 
 
 "No," was the half regretful answer. "I 
 should like to hear ever so much more." 
 
 " Well, I have no more to tell, and I should 
 not have told you so much, only you questioned 
 me so closely. I shall ask the same frankness 
 in return from you some day." 
 
 Mary did not reply. It seemed so strange to 
 hear Robbie speak so quietly about his love af- 
 fairs,— they had.seemed to forget their mother's 
 presence. She, perhaps, was thinking of a long 
 ago, when one so like her son had told her of 
 his love, and of the days so full of sweet, strange 
 joy that were now only like a dream, whose mem- 
 ory seemed to bless. 
 
 ■ Many suns rose and set, and many times the 
 harvest home was sung, before Mary heard Rob- 
 bie mention the dream child of his boyhood, for 
 such she nlways seemed to the practical, yat im- 
 aginative girl 
 
 
if she remem- 
 her, even if I 
 ;r while I live. 
 
 answer. 
 
 "I 
 
 lorc. 
 
 and I should 
 ou questioned 
 ime frankness 
 
 I so strange to 
 ut his love af- 
 their mother's 
 king of a long 
 ad told her of 
 sweet, strange 
 m, whose mem- 
 
 nany times the 
 ary heard Rob- 
 lis boyhood, for 
 ractical, yat im- 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 HOME AGAIK. 
 
 ' T last the day came when Robbie was to 
 graduate. He had been a year longer 
 than"he had at first planned. It was to help 
 lighten the burden resting on the dear ones at 
 home, that he had taken the other year, and also 
 to gain a thorough groundwork for the culture 
 which he had felt would but begin when his col- 
 lege training ceased. He was thus enabled to 
 devote more time to each study that came in the 
 course, and also the easier to earn the money 
 necessary to pay his expenses. 
 
ISO 
 
 Robbit Mtrtdith. 
 
 By looking for It, various ways for doing this 
 were presented. He was not above performinjj 
 any kind of work, providing it were honest, and 
 this when he was taking the lead of his classes 
 and occupying the position given him as the 
 cleverest student in the institution. 
 
 Someway he managed to impress his compan- 
 ions with his own just ideas of labor, to such an 
 extent that it was seldom he was sneered at for 
 his poverty, and the comparatively menial posi- 
 tion he was obliged occasionally to assume. 
 
 Mary struggled on bravely through her self- 
 imposed duties, firmly resisting Robbie's oft re- 
 newed entreaties that they should dispose of the 
 farm and come to the city where siie might the 
 better gain the coveted training for which they 
 were mutually anxious. 
 
 Dick had added his influence, but all to no 
 purpose. 
 
 " I could not think of it in our circumstances," 
 she had said to Robbie during the previous holi- 
 days. " I can work, and study, and read here, 
 
 ai 
 s< 
 a 
 
 ^'?*S(. 
 
Home AgatH. 
 
 151 
 
 for doing this 
 ve perform i 11 jj 
 re honest, and 
 of his classes 
 n him as the 
 
 s his compan- 
 tor, to such an 
 sneered at for 
 yr menial posi- 
 assume. 
 )Ugh her self- 
 >bbie's oft re- 
 dispose of the 
 ihe might the 
 or which they 
 
 but all to no 
 
 rcumstances," 
 previous holi- 
 id read here, 
 
 and there will be found for me a work to do 
 somewhere, even if I am uneducated, after you 
 and mother cease to need my help." 
 
 " I did not mean to pain you," Robbie replied ; 
 "but I can't half enjoy my advantages away at 
 school while I remember how few you have 
 
 here." 
 
 •• I have health, and the pure air, and sunshine, 
 and the happy thought* that come of my free 
 mode of life. I doubt if any of those highly ed- 
 ucated ladies you so much admire hold any glad- 
 der intercourse with nature than I do. Remem- 
 ber, Robbie, if I have not been trained in the 
 schools, and God has seen fit to withhold that 
 blessing from me, I have not been quite excluded 
 from the world of thought; but have managed, 
 not quite unintelligently, I hope, these last few 
 years, to w?de through quite a goodly number of 
 your best classical writers. I have nearly every 
 day some very happpy thoughts, when I forget 
 all about my straightened life, and our humble 
 surroundings, and the doings of our neighbors. 
 
153 
 
 Xobbh Meredith. 
 
 \ 
 I 
 
 ! .; 
 
 while I seem to hold communion with that which 
 13 above me. You may smile at me as romantic, 
 but you l^now that you often find fault with me 
 for my prosiness." 
 
 " I may be mistaken, Mary ; there is, perhaps, 
 a truer wisdom than what is gained from schools ; 
 I believe I have erred by thinlting you could not 
 improve unless associated with the refined and 
 cultured." 
 
 "The world may be vastly different outside 
 our country village, but since I have been, on 
 your account, invited among the richer families, 
 and also since I have attended the Sewing Circle, 
 I have come to think it is not such a very desira- 
 ble thing to get with' those whose social position 
 is so much better than our own." 
 
 " I hope our independent little girl is not grow- 
 ing censorious." 
 
 " I hope not, too, Robbie ; but I have heard 
 you say 'facts are stubborn things.' I have 
 come home from those gatherings very often pos- 
 sessed with the desire to be just as rich and aris- 
 
 
W l . j. i .i,.il.l|l»^mHM,yjnJ>LL 11 , 1 11 
 
 ' ' I iwH 
 
 T 
 
 vith that which 
 ne as romantic, 
 1 fault with me 
 
 icre is, perhaps, 
 i from schools ; 
 ; you couid not 
 ;hc refined and 
 
 i£Ferent outside 
 have been, on 
 
 richer families, 
 Sewing Circle, 
 
 ii a very desira- 
 social position 
 
 ;irl is not grow* 
 
 t I have heard 
 ings.' I have 
 very often pos- 
 ts rich and aris* 
 
 Horn* Again. 
 
 ifS 
 
 tocratic as they, and a little more so, I fear, and 
 far less happy than I am when sitting with 
 mother in our old bare kitchen, reading those 
 grand, helpful thoughts of the authors whose 
 works you have wished me to study. Indeed, I 
 have felt myself to be nearer what is pure and 
 lovely while I have watched the morning stars 
 fade away in the blue of heaven, as I drove home 
 the cows to their peaceful grazing grounds on a 
 summer's morning." 
 
 " It is no use, I see, for me to reason with 
 you, Mary. Of course you will find human na- • 
 ture defective everywhere, but we must be con- 
 tent to take the bitter with the sweet." 
 
 " I had rather, then, take the sweet alone here 
 at home, with the healthful labors of the farm, 
 and the restful companionship of books that 
 never give me unkind words. Besides, you need 
 not hope to transfoan your little country girl into 
 a brilliant city woman.. Homespun must be 
 homespun." 
 " Ah, Mary 1 I look for the homespun to be 
 
 ji 
 
•t* 
 
 ■«: 
 
 T* 
 
 II 
 
 
 ' li! 
 
 1 1 
 
 154 
 
 Robbie Meredith. 
 
 smoothed so beautifully one day that we shall 
 think it the finest damask." 
 
 " It will be, then, when I get on the angel's 
 robe." 
 
 " No, beiore that time ; and you will be all the 
 sweeter for coming to that rare perfection in 
 your own way." 
 
 " Thank you, Robbie, for that pretty speech. 
 You will leave me to do as I think best, now, 
 won't you, my brother ? " 
 
 " Yes ; I believe your views are correct, much 
 as I should like to have you and mother with me 
 this year." 
 
 And so the' year had passed away, the last of 
 four. What Robbie was to do after this they 
 did not know. He was not quite certain, him- 
 self. Several plans were forming in his brain, he 
 scarcely knew which was best for him to take. 
 He did not sufEer himself to grow anxious ; the 
 same Hand that had guided him hitheito^ he be- 
 lieved, would, when the time came, point out the 
 path for him to take. 
 
 Ag 
 await 
 now 
 ende( 
 
 Sh 
 after 
 could 
 wise] 
 cheei 
 the\ 
 
 Ml 
 the 
 HeU 
 quit( 
 
 SI 
 ily a 
 to b 
 tain: 
 a sti 
 theJ 
 plan 
 
 T 
 
 '««;■ 
 
■^f 
 
 th. 
 
 lay that we shall 
 
 5t on the angel's 
 
 yrou will be all the 
 are perfection in 
 
 at pretty speech, 
 think best, now, 
 
 are correct, much 
 d mother with me 
 
 1 away, the last of 
 [o after this they 
 [uite certain, him- 
 ng in his brain, he 
 for him to take. 
 ;row anxious ; the 
 im hitheitO; he be- 
 ame, point out the 
 
 Home Again. 
 
 155 
 
 Again the moment of his return was eagerly 
 awaited by his mother and sisters, for Helen was 
 now with them; her teaching days probably 
 ended for life. 
 
 She had not found teaching such joyous work, 
 after all. The little mother, in her inmost heart, 
 could not help thinking Mary had taken the 
 wiser course, as she contrasted the healthy, 
 cheery appearance and manner of the one, with 
 the weary, almost listless way of the otL ^sr, 
 
 Mary was busier than ever, now, refuu.ishing 
 the old house for Robbie's home-coming, and 
 Helen's home-leaving, for the wedding was to be 
 quite a grand affair for them. 
 
 She had spun, and woven, and knitted, so bus- 
 ily and to such a purpose that she vas now able 
 to brighten up th*; parlor with new carpet, cur- 
 tains and chairs. Possibly the adorning of many 
 a stately home had brought less pleasure than 
 the few dollars she had expended with so much 
 planning and frugality. 
 
 They had not yet seen Heles « affianced, but 
 
 n 
 
 mi i Mt 
 
 "SS^ 
 
,. „ ., _ I. J , . . i. , . ^i, . . . f . t . > |i Jj 11 j»j i . i B r wj l fLl)t».j l jlf|lu,U- 1 ' t l J|,y{yi 
 
 T 
 
 isfi 
 
 Robbie Meredith. 
 
 of his wealth they could have little doubt, from 
 the rich presents that found their way to the old 
 gray farm-house. 
 
 Mary sometimes suppressed a sigh, as she saw 
 how eagerly Helen looked forward to the luxuri- 
 ous home awaiting her. It was not that she en- 
 vied her sister's good fortune, but she felt that 
 the gulf, at first almost imperceptible, that had 
 been widening between them, on account of their 
 di£Eerence of taste and pursuit, would not be les- 
 sened in the coming time. Occasionally the 
 painful impression presented itself that she had 
 erred by her unfeminine employment ; but she 
 was generally comforted by the reflectiot) that it 
 was only to benefit others that she had done so. 
 
 Robbie and the little mother had been made 
 happier by her labors, while Helen, after the first 
 few months, had been relieved of all anxiety or 
 expense on their behalf. 
 
 The summer evening came, at last, when the 
 mother sat in her easy chair by the open door, 
 awaiting her boy. The hair, so smoothly shading 
 
T 
 
 Hoffie Again. 
 
 157 
 
 doubt, from 
 ay to the old 
 
 \i, as she saw 
 to the luxuri- 
 t that she en- 
 she felt that 
 ble, that had 
 :ount of their 
 lid not be les- 
 asionally the 
 that she had 
 lent ; but she 
 lectiot) that it 
 had done so. 
 id been made 
 after the first 
 all anxiety or 
 
 last, when the 
 the open door, 
 oothly shading 
 
 the placid brow, was more silvery than on that 
 long ago day when Robbie bought the pretty 
 gray dress, he thought so strangely matched his 
 mother's hair, but the face was otherwise un- 
 changed. She had reached another of those 
 epochs when life, for years, seems to stand still, 
 and time, for awhile, forgets to leave the impress 
 of his unkind hand as he rushes by. 
 
 Helen was sitting near her mother, nervously 
 toying with some bit of work. 
 
 Mary aguin was busy with household duties 
 and not, as on that 9ther evening years ago, im- 
 aginary ones either. 
 
 Mr. Walters, Helen's affianced, was expected 
 that evening with Robbie, and in a few days she 
 would leave the old home forever. 
 
 Mary inly wondered as she passed to and fro 
 at her work, if Helen noticed the wistful look in 
 her mother's patient eyes as they followed her 
 
 continually. 
 
 As the carriage drove to the gate, and the two 
 expected ones ran up the grassy walk to meet 
 
 m 
 
I5« 
 
 Robbie Meredith. 
 
 K' 
 
 and greet their loved ones, Mary felt a sot- rising 
 in her throat. She had lived all her life nearly 
 for others, and yet she was not first in any hu- 
 man being's heart. 
 
 Dick had months ago grown tired waiting for 
 her to return the love he had so long hoped to 
 gain. It was no fault of hers that she could not 
 give him her heart. Robbie would have been 
 glad, too, as well as the little mother, but some- 
 way it could not be ; and it was with a feeling 
 half regretful, half glad that she heard he was en- 
 gaged to another. 
 
 For awhile she loitered in the kitchen, waiting 
 until the greetings were ended between her 
 mother and Robbie, and the lovers ; but it was 
 not for long, she was anxious to see her brother ; 
 if possible, still more eager to see the new brother 
 Helen was bringing to them. 
 
 Robbie came in search* of her. When he met 
 her at the door she felt ashamed to think that 
 but a moment before she had almost murmured 
 because her share of love was so meagre in com- 
 
 parison « 
 
 were eno 
 
 like his; 
 
 were won 
 
 Helen 
 
 been able 
 
 would n< 
 
 first look 
 
 own, con' 
 
 Robbi( 
 
 much mc 
 
 acter of 
 
 that Mr. 
 
 minded, i 
 
 respect I 
 
 When 
 
 him her 
 
 their hoi 
 
 friends j 
 
 changed 
 
 came a ; 
 
 for Hele 
 
Hom9 Again. 
 
 159 
 
 a sob rising 
 !r life nearly 
 It in any hu- 
 
 i waiting for 
 ng hoped to 
 ihe could not 
 1 have been 
 er, but some- 
 ith a feeling 
 d he was en- 
 
 :hen, waiting 
 between her 
 I ; but it was 
 her brother ; 
 i new brother 
 
 iVhen he met 
 :o think that 
 St murmured 
 eagre in com- 
 
 parison with what others possessed. Surely it 
 were enough to take the third place in a heart 
 like his; if only the girl with the golden hair 
 were worthy of such love. 
 
 Helen introduced Mr. Walters. Mary had not 
 been able to divest herself of the idea that she 
 would not be greatly pleased with liim. The 
 first look into those eyes, honest and true as her 
 own, convinced her that 3he had been mistaken. 
 
 Robbie, it must be confessed, had expatiated 
 much more eloquently upon the nobility of char- 
 acter of his younger than his eldest sister, so 
 that Mr. Walters was prepared to see a strong- 
 minded, serious looking woman, whom he might 
 respect but could never love. 
 
 When the rosy, brown-eyed little maiden gave 
 him her hand, and welcomed him so cordially to 
 their home, he felt at once that they should be 
 friends for life. Her frankness and simplicity 
 changed him, and the anticipation instantly be- 
 came a pleasant one of having her with them ; 
 for Helen, all unknown to her family, had stipu- 
 
i6o 
 
 Robbie Meredith. 
 
 lated that her mother and sister should share 
 their home until Robbie could provide comforta- 
 bly for them. 
 
 It was a happy company that evening that sur- 
 rounded Mary's well-spread board. 
 
 Robbie had changed so marvellously, at least 
 so his proud little sister thought, as she admir- 
 ingly watched him while he led the conversation 
 from one subject to another. It seemed some- 
 times that the deep-toned, splendid-looking man 
 could not be their Robbie who had planted the 
 potatoes, and almost fainted under the August 
 suns in the sweltering hay-fields. 
 
 He. looked older than he really was, but no 
 wonder; care had early pressed heavily upon 
 him, and his short life had not been unfruitful of 
 events, sad and depressing. 
 
 While the others partook of her viands, it was 
 treat enough to Mary to listen to a conversation 
 that seemed to open up to her mental gaze a 
 world quite different from any she had ever 
 known outside of books. As she listened to the 
 
hould share 
 le cotnforta- 
 
 ing that sur- 
 
 isly, at least 
 3 she admir- 
 conversation 
 emed some- 
 booking man 
 planted the 
 the August 
 
 was, but no 
 leavily upon 
 unfruitful of 
 
 lands, it was 
 conversation 
 lental gaze a 
 le had ever 
 stened to the 
 
 Home Again. 
 
 i6i 
 
 pleasant flow of thought from the two clever, 
 highly cultured men at her side, she imagined 
 that the coming years would not be, after all, so 
 very dreary if she could but occupy ever so hum- 
 ble a place in their esteem. 
 
 The twilight hour was still as long, and the 
 sunset sky as golden, as on that other evening 
 when Robbie came home for the first time from 
 college. He soon followed Mary to the pasture 
 lots whence she was driving home the cows. 
 Was she thinking of that evening three years 
 ago when Dick was with them, and was there re- 
 gret mingled with the remembrance ? 
 
 Robbie wondered if it were so as he glanced 
 down at the brave, silent girl at his side. The 
 admiration and love she gave to him, returned 
 with unstinted measure, but he hoped that she, 
 the best and most unselfish of the three, might 
 one day be as Helen was to-night ; as he was 
 himself for was not the picture of a beautiful 
 face, crowned with golden hair, nestling some- 
 where near his heart ? The boyish romance had 
 
t 
 
 1 6a 
 
 Robbie Meredith. 
 
 i 
 
 not wholly given place to love of knowledge. 
 
 He did not ask her if there were regrets mi: 
 gle J with that finvl, memory, but he told her of 
 his own expected happiness. He fancied he 
 could see a wistful look in the rare brown eyes 
 that made them more beautiful than ever. 
 
 ^y^, 
 
 timh 
 
ledge. 
 :gret3 rairt- 
 :old her of 
 ancied he 
 rown eyes 
 rcr. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 DESIRE TO STUDY. 
 
 ELEN was married that same week. 
 Dick reached home in time to be at the 
 wedding. 
 
 Perhaps there was still a lingering tenderness 
 for his old fancy ; at least, Robbie feared there 
 was, and it seemed as if Dick, too, shared his 
 fears, for he appeared rather to avoid than seek 
 Mary's society. 
 
 Mrs. Meredith watched her daughter's de- 
 parture with more of pain than exultation at the 
 
 brilliant match she had made. She felt now that 
 
 (168) 
 
 
IH 
 
 RobbU Meredith. 
 
 tlie home-circle was broken, and perhaps, before 
 long, her tender care would be no longer needed. 
 She did not yield to the almost tearful entrea- 
 ties of her daughter, nor the added pleadings of 
 her new son that she and Mary should live with 
 them, while Mary was equally firm in refusing. 
 So that it was not an unmixed joy to Helen, this 
 long anticipated bridal day. 
 
 Again the little household settled back in its 
 everyday routine as of yore. Robbie busied him- 
 .self about the farm, not Micawber like, waiting 
 for something to turn up, but earnestly perform- 
 ing whatever he could find to do either for him- 
 self or others. 
 
 The little mother fondly believed that she 
 would have her boy with her now until death 
 should dissolve their union. All unconscious 
 was she that her proud young eaglet was already 
 anxious to plume his flight from the home nest 
 on a longer voyage of discovery than he had ever 
 before essayed. 
 
 Mary was first apprized of his ambitious plans. 
 
 
)S, before 
 r needed. 
 Ill entrea- 
 adings of 
 live with 
 refusing, 
 elen, this 
 
 tack in its 
 asied him- 
 e, waiting 
 (f perform- 
 r for him- 
 
 that she 
 ntil death 
 nconscious 
 ras already 
 home nest 
 le had ever 
 
 ious plans. 
 
 .^lAMaMMiaHMMMiHIIIi 
 
 Desire to Study. 
 
 165 
 
 Dismay, rather than delight was written on her 
 face when Robbie revealed to her the longing 
 with which he was possessed. 
 
 " But do you not know enough now, Robbie, 
 to get through life comfortably ? " she said in an- 
 swer to his question if she could be willing for 
 him to take a higher course of study at some of 
 the renowned old world universities. 
 
 " It seems to me, Mary, that I am only begin- 
 ning to learn. I cannot tell you how painful the 
 thought is that I must stop ngw, with all these 
 mysteries unexplored." 
 
 " Didn't mother tell you years ago that may be 
 you could go on studying in heaven ? " 
 
 " Yes, but if all were satisfied to wait for that 
 where would the world be now ? I believe it to 
 be as much my duty to go on with my studies as 
 il is for Dick to begin his work as a minister. I 
 can glorify my Father in heaven more in that 
 way than in any other, I firmly believe." 
 
 "But, Robbie, will your little golden-haired 
 girl be willing to wait ? " 
 
166 
 
 Robbie Meredith. 
 
 I ' 
 
 " She is willing, Mary." 
 
 " And so shrill I, my brother, she shall not be 
 more generous than I." 
 
 " Well done, my true, brave girl, I hope you 
 will someday get your thousand fold reward." 
 
 " And when shall you go ?" Practical and un- 
 demonstrative as ever, Mary abruptly terminated 
 his heartfelt expressions. 
 
 " That is the question puzzling me. I have 
 my fellowship, with that I can manage to pay my 
 way easily enougl^ but what troubles me is leav- 
 ing you to work alone. It seems so selfish, I al- 
 most loathe myself when I think how I have been 
 depriving you of getting an education, and now 
 to leave you for two or three years longer, shut 
 up here where you can have no pleasure nor 
 learn anything." 
 
 " Don't trouble about me, Robbie. My case is 
 not nearly so dark as you paint it. I am happy 
 here, and do not look upon my life as wasted, so 
 I am helping you ever so little, and making 
 mother comfortable; beside. I can study every 
 
^y case is 
 am happy 
 wasted, so 
 d making 
 udy every 
 
 Dtsiij to SiM(fy. 
 
 !«/ 
 
 day as much as I wish, and get through in the 
 course of a year alniost ac-es of reading. Surely 
 my mind won't quite rust out when used to that 
 extent ; and more than that, it is certainly far 
 wiser for you to be thoroughly educated than for 
 both of us to get just a smattering, and then I 
 am content to wait for my knowledge until I get 
 to a world where our minds will develop faster 
 than on earth." 
 
 "You have a truly regal way of conferring 
 your favors, Mary," Robbie said, soberly. " You 
 not only give up your life to others, but you try 
 to do it in such a way as to make them think it 
 is nothing after all that you are sacrificing to 
 make them happy." 
 
 "And why should it be?" she asked, while 
 there was just a little quiver of the lip that re- 
 vealed to Robbie it was not the light thing she 
 would fain have him think, this long separation, 
 and the loneliness only too sure to be her com- 
 ing lot for the next few years. 
 " Will you ask mother for me ?" Robbie asked. 
 
 ' 
 
158 
 
 Robbie Meredith. 
 
 She paused a moment, and then bravely swal- 
 lowing down a rising sob, she said quite calmly : 
 
 " I will do all I can for you, Robbie. I think 
 I can get her to consent." 
 
 They had been walking home from a small 
 party in the village, conversing as they came, 
 wl^e.i Robbie, just before they, reached the gate, 
 broached this subject which he had hitherto 
 found too uncomfortable to speak about; they 
 had seemed so happy to have him with them, 
 their protector and head once more. 
 
 On their long moonlight walk through the 
 quiet lanes that evening, he had been answering 
 Mary's questions about his own sweet story of 
 love, and waiting while she had been telling him 
 how Helen met her lover months ago, up among 
 the lakes, where she had been teaching, and 
 whither he had come on a fishing excursion, and 
 lodged in the same quiet farm-house where she 
 was boarding. It was a pretty story, full of love 
 and romance to the unsophisticated girl who was 
 telling it to her brother as they wandered along 
 
 in the mi: 
 
 tiful it see 
 
 riences of 
 
 Robbie 
 
 Ettie Sun 
 
 of one of 
 
 duced to 1 
 
 covered t 
 
 person. 
 
 quainted, 
 
 til one da 
 
 act she ' 
 
 store, anc 
 
 her with 
 
 "And 
 
 you were 
 
 "No, 
 much to 
 love, but 
 said, gen 
 all these 
 not help 
 
Desire to Studv. 
 
 169 
 
 ely swal- 
 calmly : 
 I think 
 
 a small 
 ;y came, 
 the gate, 
 
 hitherto 
 ut; they 
 th them, 
 
 }ugh the 
 nswering 
 story of 
 lling him 
 ip among 
 ing, and 
 sion, and 
 'here she 
 1 of love 
 who was 
 ed along 
 
 in the misty moonlight ; rarely sweet and beau- 
 tiful it seemed to her from her own slender expe- 
 riences of life's crowning gift. 
 
 Robbie told her. how lie had accidentally met 
 Ettie Sundon at the literary reunion at the house 
 of one of their professors, and had been intro- 
 duced to her, and with what pleasure he had dis- 
 covered that she was as charming in mind as 
 person. How, after once they had become ac- 
 quainted, an intimacy gradually was formed, un- 
 til one day he had dared to tell her of the kindly 
 act she had performed years ago in Phalen's 
 store, and which had caused him to remember 
 her with gratitude ever afterward. 
 
 " And you were not ashamed to tell how poor 
 you were ! " Mary said, half pityingly. ' 
 
 "No, when I told her that it seemed too 
 much to dream, even, that I could ever win her 
 love, but she must have been pleased, for she 
 said, gently : ' And so you have remembered me 
 all these years for that simple little act.' I could 
 not help the words forcing their way from my 
 
1 I 
 
 170 
 
 Robbie Meredith. 
 
 heart then as I said : Yes, and shall remember 
 it always, as the one brightest memory I ever 
 dare hope to have." 
 
 "What did she say then?" Mary asked, after 
 a long pause. 
 
 "Ah! little sister, I have told you enough 
 now. Someday I hope a nobler man than has 
 now my Ettie's love may tell you the same story 
 I told her." 
 
 Mary did not reply, but the world just then 
 did not seem the same as when, a few moments 
 after, Robbie told her of his desires to go from 
 them again for years. 
 
 *tWM^ 
 
 Ith: 
 
 bie 
 
 by slowly < 
 
 added, and 
 
 The mc 
 
 and the p 
 
 their old-1 
 
 that year; 
 
 place mor 
 
 Mary, t 
 
 sive girl, 
 
 manner t 
 
remember 
 ory I ever 
 
 }u enough 
 I than has 
 jarae story 
 
 just then 
 N moments 
 to go from 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 RETURN. 
 
 JtHER days and years of waiting for Rob- 
 bie's return passed. The two years went 
 ^rliTwly enough; and an additional two were 
 added, and still they had not seen him. 
 
 The mother's hair was growing more snowy, 
 and the patient eyes were losing something of 
 their old-time lustre, while Time, remembering 
 that years were swiftly multiplying, began to 
 place more carefully the impress of his hand. 
 
 Mary, too, had changed, from, a pretty impul- 
 sive girl, to a charming woman with a dignity of 
 manner that might have graced a palace. The 
 
I 
 
 i'n > 
 
 172 
 
 Robbie Meredith. 
 
 change could only have come through the fash- 
 ioning impress of a beautiful soul. Her mother 
 sometimes wondered at the quiet, self-contained 
 grice that marked her daughter's intercourse 
 with both rich and poor. 
 
 Mr. Walters thought that the finishing touches 
 of the most polished masters could not have 
 added to the rare dignity with which she moved 
 among them, day by day, always the same, gentle, 
 self-forgetful and pure. 
 
 Those who knew her best believed that only 
 the love of Christ, and following the example he 
 has set for us all, could have made so perfect a 
 character. 
 
 Robbie was sometimea astonished at the rare 
 thoughts that seemed unconsciously expressed in 
 her letters, and exerted himself all the more, so 
 that he might one day introduce her into those 
 circles where she could not only receive benefit, 
 but would also confer it. 
 
 The shadow of their early poverty had quite 
 been banished from their home. Robbie's checks. 
 
 after he hai 
 had gone in 
 in advance 
 found her 1 
 marriage, ai 
 much more 
 to accept. 
 
 The mol 
 
 sional visit 
 
 season of 1 
 
 to Mary. 
 
 leges thu 
 
 thought ai 
 
 visit; whl 
 
 Robbie, a] 
 
 mer at th( 
 
 gone quit 
 
 And sc 
 
 inharmor 
 
 gan to m 
 
 Robbii 
 
 note, coi 
 
 •i -; 
 
 ilk*—.. 
 
Return. 
 
 173 
 
 jh the fash- 
 
 Her mother 
 
 if-contained 
 
 intercourse 
 
 ling touches 
 
 i not have 
 
 she moved 
 
 ame, gentle, 
 
 i that only 
 example he 
 so perfect a 
 
 at the rare 
 jxpressed in 
 :he more, so 
 
 into those 
 eive benefit, 
 
 y had quite 
 bie's checks. 
 
 after he had graduated from Jena, whether he 
 bad gone in search of further culture, were much 
 in advance of their utmost need, v;hile Helen 
 found her heart grown no harder by her nch 
 marriage, and was always glad to make presents, 
 much more generous than her sister was wilUng 
 
 to accept. 
 
 The mother and daughter also made an occa- 
 sional visit to Helen's luxurious home, always a 
 season of real enjoyment to them all, especially 
 to Mary. The persons she met and the privi- 
 leges thus obtained served her as food for 
 thought and instruction until a repetition of the 
 visit; while Helen, with her husband and baby 
 Robbie, always spent a few brief weeks of sum- 
 n.er at the farm-house, which had recently under- 
 gone quite extensive repairs. 
 
 And so the years had drifted past, quietly, not 
 inharmoniously. and then the changes again be- 
 gan to multiply. 
 
 Robbie was coming home ; already a tmted 
 note, containing the wedding invitation, which 
 
 .Miim^ 
 
•i 1 
 
 ;i" 
 
 11! I 
 
 S4 i 
 
 174 
 
 Robbie Meredith. 
 
 had been gazed at, time and again, with varying 
 emotions, lay in Mary's writing desk. Would 
 the golden-haired Nettie absorb all the love in 
 Robbie's heart, or was that time past forever, 
 when she should be to her brother what she had 
 been for years. A fear troubled her sometimes 
 lest it might be so, but then she had her mother 
 still ; the best, truest mother in all the world, 
 she believed. 
 
 And more than love of friend and brother, she 
 had the love of Christ, and in temptation and 
 trial she had found in him a friend able to help, 
 and strong to deliver. 
 
 Robbie was expected in a few days. Again 
 the old house was in exquisite order for his 
 home-coming; while Helen and her husband 
 were there to meet him. 
 
 It came at last, the day when he expected to 
 be with them. It was not unlike that day so 
 many years ago which was Robbie's last in the 
 old farm-houp''; before he started out in the 
 great world in search of an education. There 
 
Return. 
 
 175 
 
 irith varying 
 sk. Would 
 the love in 
 )ast forever, 
 rhat she had 
 r sometimes 
 1 her mother 
 [I the world, 
 
 brother, she 
 iptation and 
 able to help, 
 
 lays. Again 
 rder for his 
 [ler husband 
 
 5 expected to 
 
 that day so 
 
 s last in the 
 
 out in the 
 
 ition. There 
 
 was a steady down-dropping from the leaden 
 skies, with occasional gusts of wind that made 
 the litUe mother draw closer to the fire Mary 
 had kindled in the parlor, hoping thereby to 
 drive away the shadow she saw stealing over the 
 
 patient face. 
 
 So eager were they to see Robbie they could 
 not think of him being detained by a storm when 
 so near them. A twenty-mile drive through such 
 a storm was not to be thought of, Helen had said 
 over and over again, but still his mother fully ex- 
 pected him that night, notwithstanding the oft 
 expressed doubt to the contrary. 
 
 Mary did not hazard an opinion, but her 
 mother was comforted by seeing all the prepara- 
 tions being made, as if he were certainly coming, 
 but the evening came and the twilight faded 
 quite away from the gray heavens, while the 
 wing of night was folding down over field and 
 hill, but still no sound of glad voice or step was 
 heard coming up the grassy walk. 
 
 Robbie had written that it was possible he 
 

 176 
 
 Robbie Meredith. 
 
 might bring a college friend with him ; thr.t was 
 all he said, but Mary had got her own room in 
 readiness for Robbie in case it should be needed. 
 All the household tasks were finished for the 
 evening, and Mary's eyes were beginning to 
 ache with the long-continued watching. Helen 
 proposed after the lamp had been lighted that 
 they should have tea. 
 
 " May be if we sit down it may bring him," she 
 said. Mary complied, and soon the summons to 
 tea came, and with it came a ringing voice at the 
 door. Mary was the first to open it. Through 
 the misty air she saw two shadows, and a mo- 
 ment after was enfolded by two damp arms and a 
 bearded mouth was pressed close to her own. 
 
 " Oh, Robbie I I am so glad I " was all she 
 said, but Robbie was satisfied. 
 
 In a second or two the others were giving him 
 his welcome home, his mother's a tearful one, 
 but none the less glad. 
 
 The wet wrappings were soon removed from 
 Robbie anr. liis fiiend, who was duly introduced 
 after the t.'ccitement had somewhat subsided. 
 
 
 " Mr. Sti 
 
 sure," Mrs. 
 
 playful alli 
 
 of delight i 
 
 "I can 
 
 was the h 
 
 anxiety to 
 
 Soon tt 
 
 Mary coul 
 
 so chang< 
 
 bearded 1; 
 
 expected 1 
 
 a change 
 
 him the 
 
 Sundon 
 
 alliance v 
 
 a brother 
 
 anywhere 
 
 WastI 
 
 Robbie 1 
 
 which vv; 
 
 own, aln 
 
 iiluim 
 
'.;^5;- 
 
 1 ; thr.t was 
 n room in 
 be needed. 
 lied for the 
 ginning to 
 ig. Helen 
 ighted that 
 
 g him," she 
 lummons to 
 voice at the 
 , Through 
 and a mo- 
 arms and a 
 ler own. 
 was all she 
 
 J giving him 
 tearful one, 
 
 moved from 
 jr introduced 
 ibsided. 
 
 
 Return. 
 
 177 
 
 " Mr. Stuart will excuse our eager joy, I am 
 sure," Mrs. Meredith said, in answer to Robbie's 
 playful' allusion to their unrestrained expressions 
 of delight at seeing him once more. 
 
 " I can only envy my friend his happiness," 
 was the hearty reply. " I do not wonder at his 
 anxiety to get home." 
 
 Soon they were seated around the tea-table. 
 Mary could scarcely believe that her brother had 
 so changed in those few years. Brown and 
 bearded he certainly was, more so than she had 
 expected to see him. but her keen eyes detected 
 a change still more marked. As she watched 
 him the thought occurred that after all Ettie 
 Sundon might be proud of her lover, and the 
 alliance would not, in reality, be unequal. Such 
 a brother as hers was. might claim a wife almost 
 
 anywhere. 
 
 Was the sister's pride unreasonable, after what 
 Robbie had accomplished, and the noble future 
 which was opening out before him, through his 
 own. almost unaided exertions, was it surprising. 
 
 oiS*"*"™***"^" 
 
ti: 
 
 
 178 
 
 Robbie Meredith. 
 
 with her limited knowledge of the world that she 
 should think he had few peers ? 
 
 The evening sped quickly away, while but 
 slightly did they heed, under their sheltering 
 roof that night, the rising storm and increased 
 fury of the gale. 
 
 Mr, Walters was so anxious to hear from his 
 old professors at Jena, where he had passed many 
 years of college life, that Robbie found little time 
 for further conversation, but it was enough for 
 Mary and her mother to listen to the tones of his 
 voice, no matter what the topic. 
 
 Perhaps Mr. Stuart was amused at thp eager 
 look upon the bright young face, but before the 
 evening was ended he felt repaid for coming. 
 He was to be Robbie's groomsman, and it was 
 for that he was delayed on his way home, if home 
 that might be called where only a house and ser- 
 vants awaited him. 
 
 Strang 
 
 ence v 
 tral ti 
 for se( 
 Robbi 
 detom 
 
d that she 
 
 while but 
 
 sheltering 
 
 increased 
 
 T 
 
 r from his 
 issed many 
 little time 
 siiough for 
 ones of his 
 
 th^ eager 
 before the 
 jr coming, 
 and it was 
 DC, if home 
 ise and ser- 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 UNIONS. 
 
 Fancy is Uving now in the old farm-house, 
 where once the Merediths struggled so 
 courageously with what seemed to them an un- 
 
 friendly fate. 
 
 Robbie spent a few days with his mother be- 
 fore his marriage. Very happy days to them all ; 
 strangely happy days to Mary. A new experi- 
 ence was beginning to illumine her hitherto neu- 
 tral tinted life. It might not have been merely 
 for securing his services on his wedding day that 
 Robbie had urged Mr. Stuart to make the wide 
 
 detour to the out-of-the-way farm-house, among 
 
 (179) 
 
1: 
 
 # 
 
 . :-eb;a!siis;;atE^i9(^^n^«&^iqi£i««^^i^.v 
 
 - :^Bi,<#1iUfr,£53^i .f*^-te*i. ."SV ' 
 
IMAGE EVALUATION 
 TEST TARGET (MT-3) 
 
 1.0 
 
 I.I 
 
 i "f m 
 
 !i: 1^ 12.0 
 
 1.8 
 
 IL25 i 1.4 ill 1.6 
 
 Photographic 
 
 Sciences 
 Corporation 
 
 
 z, 
 
 ^ 
 
 
 •^0 
 
 A 
 
 
 
 23 WEST MAIN STREET 
 
 WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 
 
 (716) 872-4503 
 
4is 
 
 o 
 
 <\ 
 
 > 
 
 CIHM/ICMH 
 
 Microfiche 
 
 Series. 
 
 CIHIVI/ICIVIH 
 Collection de 
 microfiches. 
 
 Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions / Institut Canadian da microraproductions hiatoriquas 
 
 *: 
 
 t^t>S!..iSSi5*A*<6ASSSa6«9i)ia>SESS*^>»«^ 
 
I 
 
 I 
 
 I 80 
 
 Robbie Meredith. 
 
 T 
 
 his native hills. Helen shrewdly thought that 
 Robbie had been planning a match between Mr. 
 Stuart and Mary, one that she felt assured would 
 give him the utmost satisfaction. 
 
 Mary was very busy those few days, making 
 her guests comfortable, at the same time attend- 
 ing to the farm and household duties as of yore ; 
 but, probably, this only proved a stronger attrac- 
 tion in the eyes of the observing, quiet man, 
 whose experience, hitherto, of the female sex had 
 not embraced one capable of performing her du- 
 ties in kitchen and parlor equally, with so much 
 grace and sweetness, at least in his half-blinded 
 eyes. 
 
 That first evening, when Mary met Robbie in 
 the half-lighted door-way, had possibly paved the 
 way better than any other circumstance could 
 have done to the easy entrance • she uncon- 
 sciously made in his heart. 
 
 He had been alone since childhood, with no 
 one to give him the unselfish love he saw be- 
 stowed on his friend, while the loneliness that 
 
 had oft( 
 
 now to 
 
 It Wi 
 
 Meredi 
 
 Robbi« 
 
 with I 
 
 It S( 
 
 cerem< 
 
 seen b 
 
 in all 
 
 altar £ 
 
 her, n 
 
 the p 
 
 girl. 
 
 Al 
 bride] 
 tear-d 
 of th( 
 unde 
 brotl 
 SV. 
 Robl 
 
 ,1. ' Lv'J , ' - ' .:'-?i- i !l! ' i»ti").i-/ ?1^r' 
 
Light that 
 ween Mr. 
 red would 
 
 s, making 
 ne attend- 
 of yore ; 
 jer attrac- 
 uiet man, 
 le sex had 
 ig her du- 
 i so much 
 ilf-blinded 
 
 Robbie in 
 paved the 
 nee could 
 le uncon- 
 
 i, with no 
 le saw be- 
 iness that 
 
 Unions. 
 
 had often embittered his solitary moments seemed 
 now to be greatly intensified. 
 
 It was a joyous party that set out from Mrs. 
 
 Meredith's on the gay October morning when 
 
 Robbie went to claim his bride. Mrs. Meredith 
 
 with Nancy staid at home while the others went. 
 
 It seemed like a dream to Mary, that marriage 
 
 ceremony in the beautiful church. She had not 
 
 seen her future sister until that morning, when, 
 
 in all her bridal beauty, she stood before the 
 
 altar at Robbie's side, her pretty brides-maids with 
 
 her, not one of whom seemed half so beautiful in 
 
 the partly dazzled eyes of the unsophisticated 
 
 girl. 
 
 A few of the guests, who knew her to be the 
 bridegroom's sister, wondered, when they saw 
 tear-drops quivering on the long-fringed lashes 
 of those brave, brown eyes ; the one or two who 
 understood her best knew it was gladness at her 
 brother's joy that caused them. 
 
 She only had time for a few formal words with 
 Robbie's wife after the wedding breakfast, before 
 
 ; 
 
 MTKni'''<»tl'li 
 
183 
 
 Robbie Meredith. 
 
 they left on their bridal tour; but she felt tl.at 
 this widening of their family circle would only 
 make them the richer in their loved ones, as did 
 Helen's marriage. 
 
 Mr. Stuart looked his best as groomsman ; uti- 
 romantic to an unusual degree though she was, 
 yet Mary found herself wondering what the bride 
 would be like whom he would one day stand be- 
 side at the altar, and wondering also if he would 
 ever find a woman worthy of him. 
 
 Robbie had chosen his life-work, or what would 
 probably be such. A mathematical professor- 
 ship had been offered him at Jena, which he had 
 accepted, hoping one day to be able to wield an 
 influence for good in that far-famed seat of spec- 
 ulative philosophy and rationalism. 
 
 Free from self-assertion to an unusu degree, 
 and with sufficient modesty to disarm unkind 
 criticism, he was yet conscious of being in pos- 
 session of talents of no mean order, which he had 
 the noble ambition of using, not for his own ag- 
 grandizement, but for the Master whom he still 
 
 ' rv'tttr-'v •' ■■---"--■--■ ■'-■—»' 
 
Unions. 
 
 183 
 
 tried to serve as faithfully and lovingly as when 
 he and Dick used to meet in the old red school- 
 house those long years ago. 
 
 Mary and her mother never shared Robbie's 
 home with him. Mrs. Meredith would willingly 
 have followed her son to Germany, but Mary was 
 unwilling to be separated from her mother. 
 
 With her usual self-forgetf ulness she would not 
 consent to lay the additional burden of their sup- 
 port upon Robbie, just when he was beginning 
 the world for himself. Beside, she believed both 
 he and his wife would be happier commencing 
 their wedded life alone. 
 
 « By and by, when you are richer, and may 
 need us more," she said in reply to his entreat- 
 
 ies, " we may go." 
 
 " But I am afraid, if I do not take you now, I 
 shall not be able to get you by and by. Some 
 one else will have a better claim than I before 
 
 long." 
 
 " Do you mean that I shall marry ?" 
 
 " I do, little sister." 
 
1R 
 
 .* '; 
 
 I 
 I 
 
 t; 
 
 I 
 
 4 
 i 
 
 ! 
 
 r 
 
 11 i 
 
 Ij t 
 
 J ! 
 1 ' 
 
 ! 1 
 
 li 
 
 184 
 
 Robbie Meredith. 
 
 " Hov ridiculous, when I have never had a 
 lover in my life but Dick, and he was married 
 long ago. I do not think you need fear such a 
 catastrophe." 
 
 " You will not be able to make that boast long, 
 Mary. Stuart will have you secured long before 
 I shall be fully settled in my new home, if he 
 can have his way." 
 
 He looked down at the little woman by his 
 side, and his keen eyes did not fail to see the 
 sudden dropping of the long lashes on the 
 brightly coloring cheeks. 
 
 "Ah, little sister, you have been snared at 
 last," he gladly thought. 
 
 It had for a long time been a cherished wish 
 of Robbie's that his friend and school-mate 
 should one day claim a brother's relationship 
 with him. 
 
 He was at home now, with his bride, spending 
 a few week.o with his mother ere he again should 
 leaVe then.j for another long period of separation. 
 
 His wife, already, was beginning to seem like 
 
 a child t< 
 of heart 
 give Rob 
 still a ma 
 she gene 
 those arc 
 A fev 
 Mary, th 
 the fire, 
 farmer ) 
 in, they 
 " It n 
 Robbie, 
 visitor. 
 Mrs. 
 stitches 
 when I 
 caused 
 Stuart' 
 It w 
 Mary 
 little 
 
 il 
 
Unions. 
 
 185 
 
 ver had a 
 IS married 
 'ear such a 
 
 loast long, 
 3ng before 
 ome, if he 
 
 lan by his 
 to see the 
 :s on the 
 
 snared at 
 
 shed wish 
 ;hool-mate 
 lationship 
 
 spending 
 lin should 
 eparation. 
 seem like 
 
 a child to Mrs. Meredith. The same kindness 
 of heart that had prompted her when a child to 
 give Robbie the candies in Phalen's store was 
 still a marked feature in her character, so that 
 she generally found her way to the hearts of 
 
 those around her. 
 
 A few evenings after his conversation with 
 Mary, they were surprised, while sitting around 
 the fire, to hear a knock at the front door; when 
 farmer Williams or any of their neighbors came 
 in. they did not usually enter by that door. 
 
 "It must be our minister coming to see you, 
 Robbie." Mary said as she arose to admit their 
 
 visitor. 
 
 Mrs. Meredith was placidly counting the 
 stitches on a sock she was knitting for Robbie, 
 when an exclamation of surprise from Mary 
 caused her to look up. when she heard Mr. 
 Stuart's voice at the door. 
 
 It was her turn then to be surprised, but when 
 Mary had ushered him into the room, and the 
 little mother saw the look of pleasure in her 
 
i86 
 
 Robbie Meredith. 
 
 daughter's eyes, the expression of mysticism 
 faded from her face, as the possible reason for his 
 coming dawned upon her. 
 
 As she sat busily knitting in her quiet corner 
 that evening, listening to the pleasant flow of 
 conversation, and watching the happy faces of 
 her children, her thoughts wandered back to those 
 days when poverty and hunger were their fre- 
 quent guests, and when the promise of such a fu- 
 ture would have appeared, both to herself and 
 children, almost like heaven itself. 
 
 Mr. Stuart only staid one day with them, but 
 before he left, Robbie's prophecy had come true; 
 his brave little sister was the betrothed wife of 
 his friend. Mr. Stuart plead hard, and his suit 
 was eloquently aided by Robbie and his wife, 
 that their marriage should take place before 
 Robbie left home. 
 
 And so it was settled, leaving Mary scarcely a 
 month's betrothal before she became a wife. But 
 they were not troubled with fears, lest when they 
 became better acquainted, their esteem should be 
 lessened. 
 
 Nancy 
 readiness : 
 divided fs 
 for a few 
 times the 
 hood. 
 
 The lit 
 
 growing 
 
 proaches 
 
 looks lot 
 
 drawing 
 
 Farmt 
 
 now, pro 
 
 Dick. ] 
 
 this. C 
 
 yet bee 
 
 Dick is 
 
 uncomr 
 
 tionally 
 
 Phal( 
 
 becomi 
 
 yet, an 
 
 ''ftrifflTOFT 
 
 ■HaMMfH 
 
 MHH 
 
mysticism 
 ason for his 
 
 {uiet corner 
 ant flow of 
 jy faces of 
 ick to tliose 
 : their fre- 
 i such a f u- 
 terself and 
 
 them, but 
 come true ; 
 led wife of 
 id his suit 
 1 his wife, 
 ice before 
 
 scarcely a 
 wife. But 
 when they 
 should be 
 
 Unions. 
 
 187 
 
 Nancy keeps the old farm-house always in 
 readiness for the home-coming of the now widely 
 divided family. Occasionally they meet thIVe 
 for a few days of happy intercourse; at such 
 times they frequently recall the days of child- 
 hood. 
 
 The little mother meets with them, every year 
 growing more gentle and saintly, as she ap- 
 proaches the better home towards which she now 
 looks longingly, as she sees her work on earth 
 
 drawing to an end. 
 
 Farmer Williams is an old, white-haired man 
 now, proud of the boys, as he calls Robbie and 
 Dick. He lives mire for the better world than 
 this. Coming late into Christ's school, he has 
 yet been a rapid learner and loving disciple. 
 Dick is a faithful and successful minister; not 
 uncommonly brilliant, but, what is better, excep- 
 tionally devoted to his Master's work. 
 
 Phalen still keeps the village store ; rapidly 
 becoming a rich man he has the same kind heart 
 yet, and is ever ready to lend the helping hand. 
 
mmmmm 
 
 ■HMRMM 
 
 ■■*• 
 
 
 i88 
 
 Robbie Meredith. 
 
 Robbie reckons him among his chief frienc's, and 
 hopes some day, tlirough Phalen's boys, to repay 
 flie father for the many kind acts done to him 
 and his in other years. 
 The story of Robbie's triumph now is ended. 
 
 THX MXO, 
 
 ESTER nni 
 
 JUUA nEIL 
 THREE PEC 
 THE KINCn 
 WISE AND 
 IIOVSEnOLl 
 THE RAND' 
 FOUR GIRl 
 CUNNINQ 
 GRANDPA'. 
 JESSIE W£ 
 DOCIA'S J( 
 RERNWa 
 
 THE i 
 HELEN LI 
 
 PERI 
 A CHRISM 
 
 33Y 
 
 ■I»J> 
 
 MODERN 
 DR. DEA 
 
 THOSE 1 
 MRS. DE 
 
frieiu's, and 
 lys, to repay 
 done to him 
 
 V is ended. 
 
 loPULAR m00k:s. 
 
 BY • • i» jk. 3Jr » ■»■-" 
 
 ESTER REID, •!" 
 
 JUUA REID, j"^ 
 
 THREE PEOPLE, . . • • • * lan 
 
 THE KINCrS DAUanTER, . . . • • 
 WISE AND OTHERWISE, ... • 'VI 
 
 HOUSEHOLD PUZZLES, . . . • *• 
 
 THE RANDOLPHS, ' 
 
 FOUR GIRLS AT CHAUTAUQUA, ' ' ' \Z 
 
 CUNNING WORKMEN, . • • • ' , « 
 
 GRANDPA'S DARLINGS, , . • • *-^ 
 
 JESSIE WELLS, J 
 
 DOCIA'S JOURNAL 
 
 UERNWS WIHTE CIHCKEN; to which U added, 
 
 THE DIAMOND BRACELET, ... .78 
 
 HELEN LESTER ; to which i» added, NANNIE'S EX- 
 PERIMENT. U 
 
 A CHRISMAS TIME, . • ' '" 
 
 MODERN PROPHETS, . • • • «1«^ 
 
 DB. DEANS' 8 WA T, . 
 
 B-sr "a-Jk-YM HVM-TiafTOTOasr." 
 
 THOSE B0T8, ..'•'• •J'^^ 
 
 3fB& DEANJPa WAT, . . . • ^'^ 
 
 D. LOTBSOF ft 00., FribllilMn. 
 
 
wmmtm 
 
 WIDE AWAKE NOTICES. 
 
 i( 
 
 li '■ 
 
 WiDB AwAKK. It U, M usual, hoiidtomely Illustrated. 
 A cLarmiug lunKozlue for iLe young. Uue of tho Iwst liuv 
 ton uotlous we kuoir of.— 27«e C'lirUtlicM Advocate. 
 
 Every number commends It more and more to public put- 
 ronase; indeed, It li very emphatically the childreu's book 
 of the period.— TAa Furmer'a CcMneL 
 
 That charming new magadne for girls and boys, the Widb 
 AwAKS for January is full of faclnating pictures and read- 
 ing matter. Among the articles are, " Piano Fortes," '*Tba 
 Cooking Club of Tu-Whit Hollow," " My Lady's Cbrist- 
 maa,""Orim Orendel," "The True Cinderella," "LitUe 
 Wooden Two Shoes," and a host of other good things. Talk 
 about the youth-giving springs to which Ponce de Leon de- 
 ▼otQd his life in finding! If he had lived in these days, he 
 would have found them in the boys' and girls' magazines, 
 like the Widk AwAiuc-rJAe Qreen Bay Adcocate. 
 
 WiDB AwAKS is welt-named, for it is certainly all atten- 
 tion to the needs of Its readers. There Is a brilliant list of 
 contributors, and an equally brilliant line of engravings. Is 
 very Itewitching in its manifold appeals to eye and senti- 
 nieuU Messrs. Lothrop A Co., Boston, the publishers, have 
 hit the young taste exactly in their Judicious arrangements 
 for issuing this serial.— 7/ie CommonwecUth. 
 
 The WiDB AwAKK, the new illustrated magazive for 
 young people, published by D. Lothrop A Co., Boston, is the 
 very best publication in our country, as well as tho oheapest. 
 
 During the i 
 meut of wit, 
 and story, il 
 to the Wiui 
 of the day. 
 doUara mor 
 magaiiue; 
 amount of 
 gtUtt. 
 
 TheWu 
 
 ever-bright 
 
 theory con 
 
 like real IL 
 
 fairies uul 
 
 earth. Tl 
 
 bers man) 
 
 the contei 
 
 a iust esti 
 
 able skill 
 
 VfWBI 
 
 love It. 
 Now whl 
 to t,he foi 
 the eight 
 vaa ever 
 Ing.— TK 
 
 ..,-'?.)J, ' Sll,".liUii& j%>.- - 
 
 ■a±tMfelaa''i&iJuja !r' 
 
WIDE AWAKE NOTICES. 
 
 ely Illustrated. 
 ' tlio Iwtt llo»- 
 Kote. 
 
 to public yu,tr 
 :lilldreii'« book 
 
 l)oyi, the WiDB 
 ures aiiU read- 
 Fortfli," "Th« 
 Lady's Christ- 
 rella," "LitUa 
 d things. Talk 
 ce de Ltioii de- 
 . these days, he 
 rls' mogaziues, 
 locate. 
 
 duly all atten- 
 brilliant list of 
 Bngravings. Is 
 Bye and senti- 
 ublishers, have 
 1 arrangements 
 
 magaziiie for 
 , Boston, Is the 
 18 tho cheapest. 
 
 During the next year the readers arc promised an entertuUi. 
 meut of wit, and wl.dom, and song, and poem, and plcluro, 
 and story. Illustrated by the best artUU. The contributors 
 to the WiUK AWAKE aie some of the most popular writers 
 of the day. We know of no way parenU could expend two 
 doUars more proflubly than by subscribing for this flrsUclass 
 magaxlue; and we think that they wlU be surprised at the 
 .mount of ««dlng received for their money.- TA« A^JOfi- 
 
 gtUat. 
 
 TheWiDBAWAJUB has entered on iU second year with 
 ever-brlghtening prospecU. lU success has proved our 
 theory correct, that children like better to read of something 
 like real life-of boys and girls like themselves-than about 
 fairies and prodigies such as never had an existence on this 
 earth. The list of contributors to the WiUK Awakk num- 
 bers many names among authors bestloved by children, and 
 the contenu of each number evidence In editor and writers 
 a iu,t estimate of thewanUof young readers, and remark- 
 able skill In catering to them.-TAe Literary World. 
 
 WIDE AWAKE was a good name for it. and the children 
 love It All the other publlcaUo»s forchildren are too old. 
 Now while Wide Awake Is pleasing in the highest degree 
 to tlie four-year-old. It 1. read with Just a. much Interest by 
 the elght.year-old, and grandma Insists that no other book 
 was ever made like It, and grandma knows what she is say- 
 Ing.— The Journal. 
 
 . -T- rr-iii""- 
 
■1# 
 
 I' 
 
 14 
 
 Il 
 
 'f\' 
 
 
 •:P0£\ CfT3L'FLXGTJs^.A.&, 18'76. 
 JVST bEADT. 
 
 IVzde Awake Pleasure Book, 
 
 ENTIBELY ORIGINAL. 
 
 By Popular American Authors. 
 
 More thMi 400 ?•««•. 
 
 Nekrly 400 IlliutratloiM. 
 
 Incranparably the best and most popular Christmas Book for 
 
 Young People ever issued in this or any country, 
 
 AT so Xa>W a price. 
 
 Elegant blaek and gold back die. Boards. Chro- 
 
 mo tide f I 60 
 
 Full extra oloth binding 200 
 
 Pictures for Our Darlings. 
 
 Charming Large -Print Stories. 
 
 With beautiful large Pictures. Very handsomely bound in ez> 
 tra doth, black and gold die and chroma 
 
 PANSY'S PICTURE BOOK. 
 
 BY "PANSY." 
 
 i new, large, and very beautiful Picture Book. 4to. FYinted on 
 
 extra calendered paper, large clear type, and 
 
 100 illustrations, in extra cloth binding with 
 
 handsome black and gold dies. $2.oa 
 
 D. LOTHROP ^ CO., Publishers, Boston. 
 
Chro- 
 
 . . f I -60 
 . . . 200 
 
 iy bound in ez< 
 nna 
 
 BOOK 
 
 4to. FtintedoB 
 type, and 
 ig with 
 
 30. 
 
 r«, Boston. 
 
"H^^-. 
 
 ■-ewtfws'srs^fc^je^' «T?s«n;Ki^>==£-^5^; .