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The following diagrams illustrate the method: Les cartes, planches, tableaux, etc., peuvent dtre film^s A des taux de reduction diff6rents. Lorsque le document est trop grand pour dtre reproduit en un seul cliche, il est filmd A partir de I'angle sup^rieur gauche, de gauche A droite, et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre d'images ndcessaire. Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la methods. by errata ned to lent une pelure, facon d 1 2 3 32X 1 2 3 4 5 6 :! Canairian |prijc Swnirag-Sc^oBl §o0hs» yiis^ published^ Vol. I. KATIE JOHNSTONE'S CROSS. A CANADIAN TALE. By a. M. M. Vol. II. JESSIE GREY; OR, THE DISCIPLINE OF LIFE. A CANADIAN TALE. By M. L. G. Vol. III. THE OLD AND THE NEW HOME. A CANADIAN TALE. By J. E. In course of preparation^ Vol. IV. SOWING THE GOOD SEED. A CANADIAN TALE. By ALICIA. TORONTO: JAMES CAMPBELL AND SON. Mav be ordered of any Bookseller in the Dominion. m THE OLD AND THE NEW HOME. H The ■r V I ' a ^' 6 c- M ? ^^ ^^^^^ 1/1 5 4J E X > 2 « E c/o rS C 4) Ifl J > Ji.. 4J •/I 3 ^ O (J CS The Old and The New Home *i» ■' % CauabimT gTalc Bv J E But may dishonour blight our fame, And quencli our household fires, Wlien we, or ours, forget tliy nanic. Green island of our sires 1 " — PRINGLF TORONTO JAMES CAMPBELL AND SON ibyo I OSS' Entered, according to Act of the Parliament of Canada^ in the year One Thousand Eight Hundred and Sroenty, 4;/ James Campbell, in the Office of the Minister of Agriculture. PREFACE. ONCE turned over the pages of a volume of engravings for the amusement of my grand- child, a little lady in her third year. From tune to time she expressed her pleasure or disap- proval, as the picture pleased or disappointed her. At length we reached a cleverly-drawn likeness of one of our statesmen, which evidently aroused her delight and surprise. When I fancied her curiosity satisfied, I prepared to turn over, hut her little dimpled hand was pressed on mine as a detainer. Presently a tiny finger ventured cautiously to touch the cheek, the lips, the eye: then came a pause, I f X PREFACE. with a puzzled look ; next, a petulant coming down of tlie whole plump palm on the despised print, with the scorn- ful comment — " Oh ! I know ; 'tis only a bit of paper." Such discovery may easily be made regarding my little book ; but what I have endeavoured to portray is " Truth in her everyday garb," and I would ask my readers to look for the likeness with some care, and to prize the picture for the sake of the original, although it is but " a bit of paper." J. E. i-EAVINo T] CAPTAIN Kl THE BABY I THE THOUG Willie's f^ low LOVE of tlie e scorn- paper." ay little « Truth eaders to prize iUe is but « a J. E. CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. LEAVING THE OLD HOME TO SEEK THE NEW PAQE CHAPTER TI. !■ CAPTAIN Kurtz's glimpse of the end 23 CHAPTER III. THE BABY PHYSICIAN 31 CHAPTER IV. THE THOUGHTS THAT CAME WITH THE STORM CHAPTER V. Willie's farewell 37 42 CHAPTER VI. llow love STRALS into a hard HEART 46 xu CONTENTS. CHAPTER VII. A FAITHFUL LABOUR IN GOD'S HARVEST , CHAPTER VIII. THE NEW HOME CHAPTER IX. A REUNION CHAPTER X. A CLEARING OF THE CLOUDS CHAPTER XI. A STAiING OF THE DRY BONES CHAPTER XII. LIGHT OUT OF DARKNESS CHAPTER XIII. NEW ARRIVALS PAOli 48 66 101 110 123 130 134 I we k ■-•jf,'. ^ '^j* 1 48 66 101 110 123 130 134 -\ CHAPTER I. " A ripplinpf wave — the dashing of an oar — The flower-scent floating past the open door. A word scarce noted in its hour, perchance, Yet back returning with a plaintive tone ; A smile — a sunny or a mournful glance — Full of sweet meanings now from this world flown ; Are not these mysteries when to life they start, And press vain tears in gushes to the heart)" HIN. ma'am dear, the weight's heavy on ^ my heart since I heard yourself say thim same words ; an' shure enough but Murty's all as had. An' why, tliin, what for wouldn't we go along wid ye, wheresomever ye're goin' to." This from poor Biddy, a comely young girl, who, with her brother Miirty (Mortimer), had been at service in Mrs O'Brien's family for several years. Her mistress had, a few days before, told the faith- ful creatures that she grieved to part with them, but fomid it unavoidable, as Mr O'Brien, her husband, liad finally arranged to leave Ireland the following month J and the family, thinking their arrangements I A LEA VING THE OLD HOME I! for the voyage, &c., could be more satisfactorily and economically made in Cork than in any of the smaller towns in their neighbourhood, had decided on going to that city as soon as their little store of household goods could be disposed of; and the kind mistress had been anxiously endeavouring to find suitable homes for the two faithful domestics ere her own was broken up. The first announcement of this to Murty and Biddy had so over- come them, that they had uttered nothing but a few broken exclamations of dismay and sorrow^ But now Biddy recurred to the subject, hoping to bring about a change to suit their wishes. It was very painful to Mrs O'Brien to give up the two young people, in whom she had long taken the greatest interest, and who hji,d proved to her family most faithful and useful assistants. As their names denote, they be- longed to the Roman Catholic peasantry ; their homes had been in "the beautiful west," amongst the wild noble mountains there, and their ramblings had never led them farther than from the heads of the cloud-capped giants to their feet — where the mighty waters of the Atlantic formed deep bays rich in the choicest fish, which, with the flesh and milk of goats, and the indispensable potato, formed the entire sustenance of the simple people. The district had been for ages in a state of primitive simplicity — we had almost said barbarism ; but there were a few characteristics which in some measure redeemed it from this stigma. Dotted about at wide distances were fine old country- seats, the residences of families of connexion and import- I ) ance in th of civilisa able extei write of t evangelisa energetic j on the he tive indiflf gradual su happiness. and a few loving care for prey, ai family had every way their mear some mem him into d ened circu sought a bl it was for suits with school, wlii years, her c teachers, p( knowledge had been be used as benighted their teachi «. TO SEEK THE NEW. ance in their counties ; and around these there were circles of civilisation which gradually widened, and, to a consider- able extent, influenced the whole. But at the time we write of there had been no extensive efforts made for the evangelisation of the west! Even Popery, usually so energetic and active, had been long lethargic, and looked on the heathenish darkness of the land with compara- tive indifference, until its jealousy was aroused by the gradual successes of a few faithful ones, who found it their happiness, as well as duty, to labour in the wilderness ; and a few lambs had been gathered in and tended with loving care, — then the lion came down on the fold, raging for prey, and seeking whom he might devour. The O'Brien family had been earnest in their efforts to ameliorate in every way the sad condition of their poor neighbours ; but their means were limited. Unsuccessful speculations by some members of IMr O'Brien's connexion had plunged him into difficulties, and reduced his family to very strait- ened circumctances. Still they laboured heartily, and sought a blessing on the day of small things — feeling that it was for them to cultivate the soil in faith, leaving re- sults with God— nor Avere they denied fruits. In a little school, which they had established and supported for some years, her own sons and daughters aiding Mrs O'Brien aa teachers, poor Murty and his sister had acquired their first knowledge of the English language. The Irish tongue had been industriously studied in the family, in order to be used as a medium of conveying scriptural truths to the benighted ones around them. But they gladly pushed their teaching as far as opportunities admitted ; and as the 3 LEA VING THE OLD HOME I brother and sister, with a few others, seemed very desirous of acquiring a knowledge of their kind teachers' language, they were patiently taught it, and with great delight made use of it by reading with avidity all the instructive little works lent them ; but the benefits of their training did not cease there ; the faithful husbandman had sown good seed, and it brought forth abundantly ; and this work of the Holy Spirit's was soon apparent in chastened tempers, gentle charity, patience under severe provocation, and a desire to return good for evil. Although at that time few had thought of recommend- ing to, or requiring from, converts to Protestantism, any public declaration of their change ; yet such change seldom failed to be discovered by some spy employed by Popery, which was now fully awakening to the necessity of resist- ing the encroachments of truth, if darkness were to be upheld in its dominion. It was under this state of things that Mrs O'Brien's proteges were subjected to much suffering, and eventually driven from their wretched homes by their terrified parents. Superstition, of course, formed a large ingredient in the unenlightened minds of the neglected people, and of this Popery (as ever wily and unscrupulous) took care to avail itself. Deep and dark were the threats used to reduce the poor benighted ones to unquestioning obedience, and but too well did they suc- ceed, even to the crushing out of natural affection, and substitution pf heartless cruelty. Under the instigation of this tyranny the poor priest-ridden people laid down their most cherished things to be ruthlessly trampled on by a bloodthirsty insatiable system. The little I have related TO SEEK THE NEW. of the ties existing between the O'Briens and the young brother and sister, who had found a warm welcome be- neath their roof when driven forth from their parents', may enable my readers to understand the regret with which the separation was contemplated by both. But Mrs O'Brien felt the necessity for it so strongly, that she did not allow herself to waver even when the appeal with which our chapter begins was made to her. Her manner retained its firmness whilst poor Biddy stood before her, but as the weeping girl left the room the mistress wept also. Then came a sad time of imrest. The home in which the whole of their married life had been spent by Mr and Mrs O'Brien, where their children had all been bom, and several of them had died, — the home endeared to them by past joys and griefs, by sunshine and shadow, — this they were about to exchange for a lodge in the wilderness, where they could not hope for the greeting of one familiar friend, where all was new and strange. Oh, how often did the wife's heart grow still, as she thought of her beloved hus- band, with his richly-cultivated mind, his former life of ease and enjoyment of refined society, his unfitness for manual labour and infirmity of constitution ; how often, when all this was present to her mind, did she sigh over the thought of the vast change which he must experience in tiie wilds of Canada ; and yet he it was who had first pro- posed emigration, though far from blind to the difficulties which awaited him in the new country. I or herself she never complained, though to leave her homt and native land was like the uprooting and casting forth of the cling- S LEA VING THE OLD HOME ing vine, with its wounded root-fibres and torn tendrils. Sometimes, when under the influence of the deep depression incident to her wearied frame and harassed mind, her heart would cry out, " Oh, why is this ? How long, O Lord, how long ? " but she was not often subjected to such bitterness ; the Comforter was at hand to raise her up ; she was bruised, but not forsaken. " Light was given unto her that was in misery, and life unto the bitter in soul." When difficulties had thickened around them, and debts became their crushing burden, she rejoiced that she had something to offer towards meeting all lawful demands, and cheerfully resigned her claims to property which had been settled on her, and which, without her consent, was unalienable. Many of the connexion opposed this, calling it an unnecessary sacrifice arising from an overstrained Bense of honesty ; but she could not so regard it, and with her husband's approval she effected her purpose, and paid the debts as far as her means permitted. Then, in gold and silver, there remained but a scanty pittance, scarcely enough to settle the family in their new home, but in peace they were rich indeed. She believed that in acting thus uprightly she was honouring God, and she feared not to throw into his treasury the last mite. All the more valuable of their furniture had long since been handed over to the creditors, but there remained some unpretending articles which they wished to dispose of, so as to add a little to the small sum intended for the family outfit. This effected, they were free to indulge in a last farewell to their humble friends around, and then turn from their early home for ever. Little had been done for 6 \ A SIGHT ON BOARD SHIP. "A hand is timidly laid on her arm, and a well-known voice, rich in Connaught accent, pleads, ' Arrah, plase, ma'am dear, won't ye be afther forgivin' us the thrick we played — me an' Murty?" — Page 7. TO SEEK THE NEW. the last week by the young people but visiting the beloved haunts of their childhood. Each mountain path, each rock and valley, the wild rugged shore, the sweet shady nooks of the pleasure-grounds and gardens, — all were wept over, all bidden a sad adieu. The poor warm-hearted oc- cupants of the scattered cottages sobbed out their sorrow for the loss of such true friends, but did not dare to utter the blessings which rushed to their lips, "for shure, wouldn't we have to teU the priest every livin' word of it, and wouldn't he break us down entirely with the pinnance, for wishin' good luck to (he heretics.^* In Cork the family happily found so much to occupy them, that their minds were spared many of the panga which would else have assailed them. But when once fairly on board the vessel which was to carry them to a far-oflf land, their occupation gone, no human faces for their eyes to rest upon but those of strangers, there was a sad sinking of heart, a yearning after the loved and lost, and a re- pugnance to the future. They seated themselves on the deck, so as to catch the last glimpse of their forsaken coun- try ; but now, as the darkness closes around them, they turn to descend to the gloomy cabin and seek their first night's rest on the wide waters. A sight, however, awaits them that they are little prepared for. At the head of the companion ladder stand two figures of familiar outline to Mrs O'Brien's eyes, yet her mind rejects the possibility of the idea suggested, and she almost smiles at her fancy as she says sadly to herself, " My poor children, they are weeping for us far away ; " but it is not so, — a hand is timidly laid on her arm, and a well-known voice, rich in 7 .J r i LEA VING THE QLD HOME Connaught accent, pleads, " Arrah, plase, ma'am dear, won't ye be afther lorgivin' us the thrick we played — me an' Murty. 'Deed an' 'deed, ma'am, we didn't mane a ha'porth of harm ; only just it was out of all raison, beggin' yer parden, to think of us two stayin' behind afther the family. Ah, thin, now, misthress dear, say ye forgive us this blessed night, and me brother and meself will think nothin' of the voyage at all at all, though, savin' yer presence, ma'am, 'tis goin' agen my stomach already. Oh dear, but wasn't that a big toss ? Oh, Alannah, but I 'm gettin' rale bad. Ma'am dear, just say the word afore I 'm gone intirely. Och, but I '11 have to run jist, jist" And poor Biddy ran, leav- ing Murty terribly abashed ; now that he had lost his screen he could only stammer out a few incoherent words, which he doubtless meant as an apology for the step they had taken. Mr and Mrs O'Brien were overcome with contending emotions, — real pleasure at discovering dear familiar faces near them, but surprise and anxiety as to the manner in which the young people had carried out their affectionate resolve not to be separated from them. They turned to Murty for an explanation of this, but at the moment he was rudely pushed away by Captain Kurtz, who exclaimed in a gruff voice, " I say, who gave you leave, you steerage varmint, to poke yourselves up here ? Off with you, and let me not see your faces again on this deck, if you don't wish for more than will agree with you." Then turning to Mr O'Brien, he continued, " I '11 have no rules of my ship broken to please gentle or simple ; so take notice." And with this uncivil declaration he turned on his heel, leaving 8 his auditor! rudeness. To the the comma: of spending courtesy, oi would be li young frien ginning, "j incident, b troubles, b eously and young peoi rest; and fondly soug board ship, regular cha berths with room, in th these defen privilege of indeed, its and join ii with each night was c rays on tli( family. Tl children w< given them in the ship. TO SEEK THE NEW. his auditors distressed and disgusted at his very gratuitous rudeness. To the O'Briens it was particularly disappointing to find the commander of the vessel in which they had a prospect of spending several weeks so uninfluenced by Christian courtesy, or even common civility ; and they feared there would be little comfort in their intercourse with their poop young friends in the steerage from this unpromising be- ginning. They retired to their cabin, saddened by the incident, but resolved to lay this, with all their other troubles, before the throne of Him who judgeth right- eously and upholdeth the faithful. They had sent their young people down, a short time before, to prepare for rest; and now they drew them all around them, and fondly sought to brighten the gloom of the first night on board ship. They had (by paying a sum in addition to the regular charge) been permitted to enclose several of th4 berths with thin plank partitions, forming a kind of state- room, in three compartments, but all adjoining. Within these defences from the public eye they hoped for the privilege of some little privacy, and were thankful for it j indeed, its value was soon felt. Here they could kneel and join in family worship, and hold sweet intercourse with each other, undisturbed by the outer crowd. The night was calm, and the bright moonlight fell in silvery rays on the Bible, which lay open before the head of the family. There was silence for some moments, — ^then the children were told of the unexpected blessing God had given them in the presence of their dear faithful attendants in the ship. This announcement produced the most un- 9 B V i i .1 1 i LEA VING THE OLD HOME feigned pleasure, and all expressed a wisli to call Biddy and Murty to prayer ; but, with a sigh, their father ex- plained to them that this could not he, just yet, at least. Many questions were asked regarding the reappearance of the brother and sister, but, of course, no satisfactory an- swer could be given. Nevertheless, their hearts were lightened, and they found it all the easier to hope, as well as pray, for future comfort. f Here I had better describe our party more minutely than I have hitherto attempted to do. Moira was the eldest daughter, and had attained her twentieth year. She was a tall, slight, thoughtful-looking girl, without any striking personal beauty, but possessing that type of face which grows increasingly interesting with greater intimacy. She had a brother two years her senior, but he was not of the present party,, and for a time we must leave his name unspoken. Next to Moira came a brother, whom God took from the little circle in happy infancy. Dora, the fourth child, was a lovely girl of sixteen ; then a robust, merry youth of fourteen, called Edgar ; then followed another that found a home in the skies ere he had learned to love earth ; next, the third daughter, Maud ; and now Master "Willie, the cricket on the hearth, comes in last, and least in stature, but filling a very large place in the family heart. Of exceedingly delicate constitution, he had been always treated with vast tenderness by all. The mother had never to urge the elder ones to bear with the fragile child's little exactions ; they tried unbidden to meet his every want, and soothe the fretfulness consequent on suflfer- It was beautiful to see their gentle unselfish manage- mg. ment of th filled the n it ached w ever found fingers of 1 primrose o prived of i1 suff'er ; the should ope sures ; or ( of straw-st no one tho walk, or wind fori pleasure t( of what tl was encou self-denial reproof ar mamma's in rebukii ance. Sh guarded ai him, by p the end oi The sec party wer in mute O'Brien m but his -^ TO SEEK THE NEW. I . ment of the tiny invalid, and often the contemplation of it filled the mother's heart with joy and gratitude, even while it ached with anxiety for her darling. The first flowers ever found their way to "Willie's cot, and tenderly were the fingers of the little sleeper opened to receive the scented primrose or sweet wild rosebud, which was carefully de- prived of its thorns, lest Willie's precious wee hands should suffer ; then they would keep watch till the bright eyes should open, and discover with delight the fragrant trea- sures ; or often would they surprise the child with a treat of straw-strung berries, or a beautiful new-laid egg ; then no one thought it a trouble to take him on his favourite walk, or remain at home with him when the sharp wind forbade his leaving the house. It was their pleasure to read to him his " pretty stories," or tell him of what they had themselves enjoyed. All this, of course, was encouraged as safe training for them in the ways of self-denial and thoughtful love ; but m.any a whispered reproof and injunction reached Willie's ears from dear mamma's lips. To him she was as faithful as to the others in rebuking sin, and pointing out the necessity of repent- ance. She prayed with as well as for him, and carefully guarded against all that would tempt him to evil ; leading him, by precept and example, to Christ, the beginning and the end of our salvation. The second day of the voyage arose in splendour. Our party were all on deck, to behold the glorious sun rise ; and in mute wonder they gazed on the grand spectacle. Mr O'Brien was the first to interrupt the thoughtful silence ; but his voice uttered no light comment : he spake the II i LEA VING THE OLD HOME words of the holy David : — " They that go down to the sea in ships, that do business in great waters ; these see the works of the Lord, and His wonders in the deep. Whoso is wise, and will observe these things, even they shall un- derstand the loving-kitidness of the Lord." He held little six-year-old Willie in his arms, well wrapped up in his mamma's shawl. The child looked awed, and climg to his papa's shoulder, but when he heard the beautiful words of the Psalmist repeated, he whispered, " Is this one of the wonders of the deep, pa ; had we not the same bright sun at home in the mountains ?" " Yes, my boy ; God made the sun to lighi; the whole world, — the land as well as the sea." ** But when there were no ships to want light, what good was it over the great water ? " " My child, God has made nothing in vain ; and although I cannot show you the thousands of creatures that swim in the deep, and enjoy the bright sun in many ways, nor can 1 make you understand how all nature benefits by the action of the heat on these dancing waves, yet I would have you, like David, praise the Lord for His goodness to the children of men, and never forget that, through this goodness. He gave unto us His only-begotten Son to die for our sins, that we might be saved from destruction in hell, and brought to dwell with Him for ever in heavenly places." " And, papa, will heaven be more beautiful than yonder golden sky." " Ah, my boy, it hath not entered into the heart of man to conceive the glory of the place where God dwells ; but J2 we shall \ praising ( "Well, keep it al into it ve away, an( «Myd to give us —the Ho be near ' See, Will near thos "OMi At first after a i feet, tied run, but ( The d( who, witl him, and then calL got Mast After I ghastly, almost fi on seein< wrung h< that won I do at a nerly goi TO SEEK THE NEW. t t t' we shall behold it, and dwell in it, and spend eternity in praising God for it, if we give our hearts to Him now." "Well, papa, I wish God would take my heart, and keep it always, for I cannot help naughty thoughts getting into it very often, and then I am afraid Jesus will put me away, and not have me to live with Him up on high." " My darling, you and all of us must constantly ask Him to give us new hearts that will love holiness and hate sin, — the Holy Spirit to dwell within us — and then we shall be near God here, and with Him for ever when we die. See, Willie, do you know who that is down there, standing near those large barrels." " Murty ! my Murty ! Papa, let me go to him." At first, the father's fear of cold restrained the child, but after a moment's reflection, he set the little boy on hia feet, tied the shawl firmly on, and said, "Yes, you may run, but do not stay more than a few minutes." The delighted child sprang towards the young man, who, with a quick glance around, rushed forward to meet him, and, seizing him in his arms, kissed him repeatedly ; then called Biddy. " Biddy, come if you can at all. I 've got Masther Willie, the darlint." After a short delay, poor Biddy staggered up, looking ghastly. She had been suffering terribly from sea-sickness almost from the first hour the vessel was in motion. Now, on seeing her beloved nursling, she burst into tears, and wrung her hands, crying out, " Oh ! the thief of the world, that won't let me be wid ye, me heart's darlint. What '11 I do at all ? Can't the masther no way pervint his onman- nerly goin's on ? Shure, an* didn't we— Murty and me — 13 LEA VING THE OLD HOME :l pay him down our good money over and above the order the dacent man in the office giv' us, and now the chatin' desayver'U not as much as let us walk the same ground as hisself, and bars us off from doin' what we want for the family, not to talk of the starvation below ; but that 's neither here nor there at all at all, if he 'd just have the dacency to give over thim ship's rules of his that he's always dinnin' into our ears. My heart 's bruk wid thim same." Here Biddy ceased from pure exhaustion, but another hin- drance to her eloquence presented itself in the person of the much-dreaded captain. In her excitement, she had spoken without any attempt at controlling a naturally strong voice, and thus had attracted the attention of the mate, who soon carried the intelligence to his superior officer that the Irish beggars were getting up a row. This brought him quickly to the lower deck, where stood Biddy with the frightened child in her arms, and her brother beside her. "Well, what's up now, you beggarly set? Didn't I tell you I 'd make you smart for it if you dared to break the ship's rules. Take this as a foretaste of the rest ;" and so saying, he lashed the poor girl with a rope's end which he had just caught up. The acute pain it caused her drew forth one sharp cry ; but on finding the child clung to her convulsively and uttered terrified screams, she thought of nothing but soothing him, and, in spite of the captain's unmanly efforts to prevent her, she rushed forward to Mr O'Brien, who was hastily approaching them, and placing the little boy in his arms, she sobbed as if her heart )uld break. Mr O'Brien said, 14 ¥ in a tone c brother, ar I must tr^ with diffic her now fs Her mas walked do which the he request somewhat perhaps c veniently the unoffe assent, an when he t " Sir," \ There is n interpretal duced a p: of the ste committee the captai which we] both fore each indi) in the e afforded 1 Mr O'Bri forward. Captaii 70 SEEK THE NEW. in a tone of decision, " Go, Biddy, go immediately to your brother, and stay below until you hear further from me ; I must try what can be done for you." The girl obeyed with difficulty ; the little strength excitement had given her now failed, and she tottered back painfully. Her master placed the child in his wife's arms, and then walked down deliberately to the part of the lower deck on which the captain still stood. In a perfectly calm voice he requested some conversation with him, and, apparently somewhat subdued by Mr O'Brien's self-possession, and perhaps conscious of having committed himself incon- veniently by his act of unwarrantable violence to one of the unoffending passengers, Captain Kurtz gave a gruff assent, and walked with the gentleman to his cabin, when he turned, locked the door, and stood at bay. " Sir," began Mr O'Brien, " I perceive you are irritated. There is no occasion for it ; I am here merely to ask your interpretation of these rules." So saying, Mr O'Brien pro- duced a printed paper which had been handed him by one of the steerage passengers, a witness to the outrage just committed. The man would not venture himself to recall the captain to a sense of justice by alluding to the laws which were to regulate his conduct towards his passengers both fore and aft, and a copy of which had been given to each individual who obtained a free passage and certificate in the emigrant office, but he seized the opportunity afforded him by the confusion, to place this document in Mr O'Brien's hands. This that gentleman now held forward. Captain Kurtz grew livid with rage j he attempted IS M- iiii''. 'I' LEA VING THE OLD HOME, in vain to seize the paper ; but could not give utterance to a word, so overpowering was his passion. Mr O'Brien waited quietly till he was somewhat cooled, then again requested his ideas in connexion with the paper, but find- ing that this only exasperated him, he said, " I am really distressed to have the appearance of interfering. I fully acknowledge for myself your right of governing on board your own ship, and see the propriety of sustaining your authority, unless when it is pushed too far, as I conceive it was just now. You must know that such conduct is an infringement of the laws to which you are answerable. I greatly wish to see order maintained, but have no hope of its being so, unless you abide more strictly by the spirit of those regulations which most of your passengers are shrewd enough to study and understand." Whilst Mr O'Brien was thus speaking, his companion had gradually backed up to the table, supporting himself against it as if exhausted by his recent outbreak of temper. He had made one or two ineffectual attempts to speak, but at last, with a thick, imperfect articulation, he asked if this meant mutiny. " No, I should hope not ; that indeed would be a terrible result of your unreasonable severity ; but I believe it only needs prudence and justice to restore and maintain order. If you will kindly listen, I will explain to you why it was that two of your steerage passengers passed from the limits you seem to wish them to keep within. They have been for years our faithful and attached servants, and thinking there was no objection to their moving about in any part of the vessel, they gladly came towards us as soon as they i6 perceived ignorance different c and were i you expre had resol\ suffered n allow any sir, is sim apology fc The wc the hard, was said, a spuriou milder tl thanked ' aside. His ne: remain w offering a was grant pocketed free with culate on soft word But so rarely fai' Biddy an sister am to bear tl TO SEEK THE NEW, perceived my family on deck, and, as we shared their ignorance regarding the distinction to he ohserved hy the different classes of passengers, we met them with pleasure, and were about to engage in conversation with them, when you expressed your disapproval, and this morning, as I had resolved not to infringe on any of your regulations, I suffered my child to go to his friends below, rather than allow any attempt on their part to come up to him. This, sir, is simple fact, and I do hope it will be received as an apology for any offence we may have given." The word apology was the only one of any weight with the hard, exacting man, who listened impatiently to what was said, but concession gratified his pride, and produced a spurious sort of good temper ; so his reply was rather milder than Mr O'Brien expected, and he inwardly thanked God that the foolish man's wrath was turned aside. His next wish was to obtain permission fcr Biddy to remain with them in their quarters as personal attendant, offering a small sum in compensation for the privilege. This was granted, though not very graciously, and the money pocketed ; the door was then unlocked, and Mr O'Brien set free with the growling admonition, " Mind you don't cal- culate on getting anything more out of me with all your soft words." But soft, wise words had done a good work, as they rarely fail to do, and most welcome was their result to poor Biddy and the family. Murty too was delighted to see his sister amongst her kind friends, and found it much easier to bear the many privations of his own position, now that 17 c I |§; LEA VING THE OLD HOME lie felt sure of her exemption from them. Thus, through God's tender mercy, a great additional comfort was granted to these children of faith. From Biddy it was easily gleaned that the quarters of the poor emigrants were terribly overcrowded, ill-venti- lated, and scantily supplied with necessaries. This greatly surprised and distressed the O'Briens, who knew little of the usual hardships of a voyage in an emigrant ship. Their idea was, that the master of the vessel was hound to provide sufficiently, in every respect, for each individual sent on board by the agents employed by Government, and subject to a severe penalty if this duty was neglected ; and as to numbers, that they thought was strictly regulated by emigrant laws also, — the numbers being always propor- tioned to the size of the vessel. These ideas were further confirmed by the papers given to the poor people at the office; but there were many ways found out by un- scrupulous captains of evading or exceeding the prescribed tules, and in the hurry of embarkation, or before the day appointed for sailing, numbers of poor creatures were smuggled on board, and hidden away, on handing over such sums from thoir hard earnirigs as seemed a sufficient bribe, and for these they were made large promises which, alas, were rarely kept. Scarcely had they lost sight of land when they began to learn the deception they had subjected themselves to, and though at first tL^y remonstrated loudly, they soon found that this was worse than useless, for it in- variably led to some cruel act of despotism, which greatly increased their misery. The O'Briens, and most of the first cabin passengers, had i8 supplied done witl: After a most useJ themselv( Willie's s wonderfu glected ; i from disa agement c attraction of meetii these me( family to tress's or< young gi. though o carefully apology Murty ( and am t all at al sweet all stint of all a woi but shui faces tha up in til there th( to the m 1 TO SEEK THE NEW, supplied their own provisions, and fortunately this was done with liberality. After a time, Biddy gained strength, and proved herself most useful to her beloved mistress ; her hands busied themselves in every department. She still continued little Willie's special attendant, and comforted the weakly child wonderfully. Then, her young ladies must not be ne- glected ; she insisted on exempting them as far as possible from disagreeable offices, and laid claim to tlie whole man- agement of the cooking operations. This possessed a peculiar attraction for her, as it gave her frequent opportunities of meeting her brother : and a diligent use they made of these meetings, Biddy delivering kind messages from the family to Murty, and always sharing with him, by her mis- tress's orders, the provisions she was preparing. Then the young girl would modestly venture to remind her brother, though older than herself, of the lessons they had been so carefully taught by their pious employers, and as an apology for such dictation, she would artlessly say, " Oh, Murty dear, don't think I 'm growin' set up wid meself, and am takin' in hand to tache my betters ; 'tisn't that at all at all, but jist becase ye see I 'm gettin' it fresh an' sweet all the time up there, where the good God gives no stint of blessin', an' I want ye to have a share. 'Tis jist all a wonder to me how tlie mistress an' them all keeps up, but shure it 's God that does it. Ye never seen happier faces than the family has on tliem when they 're all gathered up in the little hole of a box they call their state-room : there they sit on trunks or bundles, quite paceable, listenin' to the masther readin' the Holy Book, and thin they talk 19 i;ii ;i: I ■it LEA VING THE OLD HOME a while, and brighten one another up wonderful ; and thin they pray, and the little dungeon doesn't seem like the same place at all at all. Ah, thin, is it any wonder I 'd be bringin' ye some of the fine words they tache me, an' that's all I mane, for slmre you are wiser out-an'-out than meself." These were sweet moments of godly intercourse for both, and their fruits proved their value. But our travellers were not always exempt from sorrow, — sad iciiiiniscences often dimmed their views of peace, and fears for the future would intrude. At such times there was but one safe resource, and lovingly did they exhort each other to resort to it. God's promises were wide and deep and never-failing strongholds, abundant in supplies of the bread of life, the waters of eternal salvation, the armour of righteousness, and the sword of the Spirit ; no good thing was lacking ; in these towers of defence, they were safe. And here they grcAV strong and hopeful, but the enemy was not sleeping ; he was preparing such in- struments of attack as he thought would bring him con- quest. Days had grown into weeks since their vessel (the Hecla) had left port, and still vast tracts of ocean lay between them and their destination, without having any- thing which the sailors would call storm. The weather had become unfavourable, the winds adverse ; there were frequent squalls, which greatly tried the poor people com- fortlessly huddled together in a dirty, dark part of the ship. Provisions from the first had been scantily supplied ; even in quality they were unwholesome, and little could be done to render them at all palatable. Weariness and dispirited indifference began to show in the pallid faces 20 which gat many as b kind-heart with then by Mrs 0' of the po( extent. One mc tered the < him that 1 the lower amongst 1 for some neighbou] This a reached j called an liealth oi young m to the mi He was ( or fear tl company particuli you alb it a dis to maki Havey Asu: two ger H\y^ TO SEEK THE NEW. I r which gathered round the cabouse, and Murty spoke of many as "being too weakly to come up at all : on these the kind-hearted young fellow waited with tenderness, sharing with them gladly the more tempting food sent to him by Mrs O'Brien ; but there was progress in the miseries of the poor, and ere long they increased to an alarming extent. One morning, to his master's great surprise, Murty en- tered the cabin, and, with much agitation of manner, told him that he came there to prevent his sister from visiting the lower part of the ship, as there was "bad sickness amongst the people." Three women, who had been ailing for some time, were now in raging fever, terrifying their neighbours by their wild delirium. This appalling news spread terror around. When it reached the captain's ears it stirred up his wrath. He called angrily for the young surgeon, to whose care the liealth of the passengers had been entrusted. The poor young man seemed shocked and bewildered as he listened to the mad reproafthes and awful imprecations of the officer. He was ordered to go below instantly, and set all to rights, or fear the consequences of failure. No one offered to ac- company him, till Mr O'Brien, coming out, inquired the particulars of the captain's orders ; and said quietly, " If you allow me, I will be glad to go with you. I have felt it a disappointment all along to be prevented from trying to make myself useful amongst my poor fellow-passengers. Have you any objection, captain ? " A surly " Do as you like " was the only reply. So the two gentlemen went down. 21 I LEAVING THE OLD HOME TO SEEK THE NEW. The scene was quite new to Mr O'Brien, and struck grief and horror to his heart. All was c mfusion. The young medical man groaned as he beheld such a field for his inex- perienced labours. He was an ingenuous, truthful lad, fresh from his books, and wholly unused to such serious responsibility as now awaited him. Mr O'Brien, whilst he admired the simple candour with whici uis confession was made, felt deeply the impropriety of seLcring such men for so important a post. However, he hastened to stir up his courage, and make use of any skill he possessed. He asked, " Will you not at once examine the patients most in need of care ? " I ! {\ to ^ CHAPTER II. ^Captain ^urtj's (6Umps« of t^e (Snb. " Ah I the weariest and most loathed load of life That { safe harl)Oiir, we neetln't care much how soon the ship would go to staves. I 'm weary of myself, and would be glad to think my voyage of life would soon end, if I could only believe it would end well. Your boy is one in ten thousand, I fancy. Would to God 1 had died M'^hen an innocent babe like him." " But, my dear sir, my child's safety does not rest on his innocence ; we are all bom in sin, and even the infant could find no salvation had not Christ died for him. All have come short of the glory of God. There are none of any age righteous — no, not one. None independent of the sacrifice offered on the cross." They conversed together for some time on this im- portant subject, and then Mr O'Brien asked the captain to come over to them to see little Willie whenever he was at leisure. He came late in the afternoon. The child lay in his mother's lap. He was weaker than ever, and ap- parently asleep when Captain Kurtz entered their humble state-room. There was no chair to ofier him, but he seated himself beside Willie, on a sea-chest. For several minutes there was nothing said, all gazed on the dying boy. The cabin was close, and the poor little fellow breathed with difficulty. The captain asked them to take him into the open air ; the mother feared it would chill him ; but ho opened his eyes, looked around him, and said faintly, " Yes, take me up ; let me see the sky." They carried him on deck, made a little bed of sliawls, and hiid him down. Ho looked long on the clear arch above him ; liis pallid li{>tj moved, but gave forth no sound ; his converse was with his Father in heaven. After a time his eyes fell on the 44 h WILLIE'S FAREWELL. fi\ captain ; he stretched out his little wasted hand towards him. It was tenderly pressed between the rough palms. " I am glad you Ve come now. I am going up, I think, and I want you to promise to come too ; won't you ? I'd like it so much, and God always wants people to come to Him ; that 's the reason He sent His Son. You know that's the reason Jesus died. Wasn't it good of Him? Oh, I love Him so." These broken sentences evidently cost the child much painful effort, but he was trying to do his Father's work. They had all come up with him, and now they knelt around him, endeavouring to catch each tone and look. His eyes passed from one face to another, till all hud been fondly gazed on. Then they turned towards his mother, and his countenance immediately lighted up with joy. " Tell them all to love Jesus. I often ask Him to love them, and I think He will. Oh, He can love so many, and love them always. See, papa, 'tis bright there again '* (pointing to the setting sun), " but you said right — 'tis brighter here ! '* The little form was slightly raised, the arms thrown up, the lips moved once more and uttered " Jesus " — then all was profoundly still. The storm had indeed jtassed, the port was gained, and all wivs perfect peace 1 lipi CHAPTER VI. If, I |)o(u |!oI)£ Strals into a Ijarb Dtart. " 'Tis but a little thiiiR, Yet my heart sends it.' P, madam, do, I entreat yon, accept this poor service. It -will be a great favonr to me. It ^vill be an honour." This •was Captain Kurtz's manner of asking Mrs O'Brien's accept- ance of his cabin as a resting-place for her chikl's remains during the rest of their time at sea. Land had been sighted, and it was expected that in a few hours they wouhl enter the Gulf of St. Law- rence. This was joyful news to all, and gave the poor parents a hope that they might fulfd their cliild's wish to be laid in a little green grave. They accepted the captain's kind offer most thank- fully. Within their o^\^l limits there was such a crowd that they had thought with pain of the 46 HOW LOVE STEALS INTO A HARD HEART. clifTiculty attending their Lest arrangements for their dead, but relief had been most considerately afforded them, and they thanked God for raising up this friend in need. A little sofa was arranged with the nicest care. Their best treasure of snow-white damask was drawn from its chest, and used to overspread everything around ; then they car- ried their darling in, and laid him gently down with folded hands resting lightly on his pulseless heart. There was unspeakable sweetness in his face, — so calm, so grand ! — those who gazed on it felt a spirit of reverence filling their hearts, and found it hard to turn away. Captain Kurtz lingered beside it hour after hour, only withdrawing through respect for the relatives' greater claims on the privilege. The wind had so died a\vay that the vessel made little progress, and it was feared it would be longer than they had hoped ere they could reach land, but the captain would not allow the O'Brien family to be distressed by this. Ho assm'ed them that he felt confident that all in good time they should carry their precious burden to a quiet resting- place amongst the waving trees and verdant fields. There was a large amount of sympathy expressed by almost every soul on board, and by none more than the kind young physician who had shouTi tlie utmost devotion to the little euff'erer, and had become a particular favourite with him. The last hours of the vo)%ige were closed, land gained, the disembarking commenced, and the seven weeks of travel across the Atlantic blended with eternity. What will they reveal at the judgment-day ? 47 CHAPTER VII. ^ <#aU^fuI f aboar in (Bob's ^arbcsi. "Nothing Is sweeter than love, nothing more courageous, nothing higher, nothing wider, nothing more pleasant, nothing fuller nor better in Heaven or earth. Because love is born of Goii, and cannot rest but in God. Love is active, sincere, affectionate, courageous, patient, faithful, prudent, long suffering, manly, and never seeking itself; suffering, believing, hoping all things,—' God is love.* And so far as his image is reflected in man, so far is man of a loving mind."— 7Vww/aj a Kempis. OCTOR BAYNES landed in the pilot-boat, and hastened to make arrajigements at the hotel recommended to him for the family of his friend. lie then ascertained the residence of the clergyman, and reciuested him to come to the wharf to meet the O'Briens with their dead. The reverend gentleman was conversing at the time with a venerable-looking old man of simple earnest manners, who listened with interest to the request, and begged to be permitted to attend with his friend to tlie place appointed. This, of course, was complied with, and the little party wound through the strange steep streets descending to the river. They were just in time to meet the party 48 -*^.f who cam had been and brotl begged t the mam There for they and the the vene doctor t in all lo to hund had left highest Church, in the v importa his wh( Beason was onl the Ch Bishop and wi man ot of the his mf on his discov note 1 daily A FAITHFUL LABOUR IN GOD'S HARVEST. who came in the captain's boat. Little AVillie's remains had been wrapped in a flag, and were borne by his father and brother along tlie wharf ; then the captain and doctor begged to be allowed to take their places ; and tliis was the manner of the O'Briens' arrival in Quebec. There was no lack of sympathy for the afilicted family, for they had fallen amongst a kind, warm-hearted people, and the kindest of the kind was the good Bishop Stewart, the venerable old gentleman who had gone down with the doctor to meet the mourners. For many years he had in all lowliness and holy zeal delivered tlie gospel message to hundreds— nay, thousands — of Canadian settlers. lie had left a home of wealth and luxury, companions of the liighest rank, and opportunities of rapid promotion in the Church, all to fill the post of humble travelling missionary in the wilds of Canada, and faithfully did he discharge the important duties of his office. He loved the truth with his whole heart, and was diligent in season and out of season in propagating it. His unostentatious liberality was only bounded by his means of extending it, and when the Church deemed him a fit successor to the lamented Bishop Mountain, he assumed the office in all humility, and was known to the end of his holy career as a meek man of guileless spiiit, much given to prayer and the reading of the Scriptures. His attached servant could truly tell of his master's prayerful habits, for often had he found him on his knees, with his Bible open before him ; but the discovery rested not with him ; all men around liim took note that he had been with Jesus — it was marked in liis daily walk. There was one who— coming to this Northi-'ru 49 ^ A FAITHFUL LABOUR Province in the depth of a severe winter, and hut ill- prepared for the inclemency of the season — found a happy home beneath the hospitable roof of the good bishop, and had many opportunities of experiencing and witnessing hia simple loving habits, and their pleasing results. When he discovered a want, arising from ignorance of the demands of the climate, in the most thoughtful, yet modest, way he contrived to supply it. Should he suspect that narrow means deprived his missionaries of essential comforts, his purse was ever at their disposal, and his fatherly counsels comforted and sustained them through many a trying hour. All men should pray the Lord to raise up such labourers for the harvest. The little green grave was found, and "Willie laid down there, in the sure and certain hope of a glorious resur- rection ; then the family thought over the next steps to be taken in their long journey, for they purposed making their way to Upper Canada, and seeking a home somewhere on the shores of Ontario. Yet their ideas were indistinct ; al- though they had rerd with interest many of the works of the day on the provinces, they had obtained no really practical views regarding their own settlement. Their chief object in going west was to ascertain, if possible, some tidings of a much-loved one from whom they had been separated by most distressing circumstances. In an early chapter we alluded to the eldest son of the family, but have not since mentioned his name. It was a subject never openly dis- cussed before the young people, Mr and ^Irs O'Brien deeming it wiser to refrain from exciting hopes which might never be realised ; and, moreover, there were peculi- 50 IN GOD'S HAR VEST. mt ill. happy P, and 5ing his hen he manda ivay ho narrow ts, hi8 3unsel8 ? hour, tourers down resur- s to be ■g their lerc on ct ; al- I of the actical object ngs of ed by er wo since Y dis- Brien vhich 3culi- aiities in the case which they thought it better not to draw attention to — until they might be butter understood, at least. iMoira was the only one of the children who was fully aware of the facts, of the case, or rather of such facts as had transpired. She was but two years younger than Darcy, the first-born, and had been his loving and loved companion from childhood, until they were separated by Darcy's going to an English school, and afterwards to Cambridge Uni- versity ; but gladly was the affectionate intercourse re- newed on every possible occasion, and much were his vacations longed for as seasons of peculiar enjoyment in the family. It was usual for Darcy to ask and obtain permission to bring home with him one of his favourite fellow-students, to join in his sporting excursions among the mountains or on the bay, and many a day of pleasure was spent by the youths, yni\i Murty for tlieir attendant ; climbing the steep sides of the lofty peaks, more in pursuit of adventure and scenery than of game ; and great was Moira's delight as the returned ramblers spread before her splendid specimens of her favourite mountain flowers, or enriched her collection of the curious weeds of the ocean. But a time came when all this happiness was to end. The long vacation, as usual, brought to Cliff Lodge the two light-hearted young men. Darcy had been very successful in his studies, and came home rich in the honours of his college. George Forrester, too, had done well ; and both were in the best spirits, and met with a hearty wel- come. Their first evening, however, was interrupted by a visitor whose arrival did not appear to give much pleasure to any of the party; nevertheless Mr M seemed de- 51 ii'ii A FAITHFUL LABOUR tcrmined to enjoy himself, ami certainly was bent on monopolising Moira's society. Tliis disconcerted more than one of the company. Forrester evidently did not approve of it, and was pleased to find his friend Moira ill at ease and dull, whilst courtesy constrained her to enter- tain her visitor. On Darcy's finding himself alone with his mother ho asked, abruptly, " What brings that worthless fellow here ] Docs father ask him ? " Mrs O'Brien said gravely, " No, Darcy, he comes with- out any invitation, and I think without any welcome, but he is persistent, and will not take a rebull"." " Then he shall have a stronger one, which he cannot avoid understanding," said Darcy. "Nay, my son, beware of rashness. I have no doubt your father will arrange it all well. I prefer much, too, leaving it in his hands." Her son shrugged his shoulders and looked dubious, but said nothing more. The next day, as he was setting out with his friend and Murty for a long sail, he whispered Moira something which brought the bright colour to her cheeks ; she looked at him pleadingly, but could not say a word, as Forrester stood be- side her. She watched her brother and friend from the door-step as long as they were unhidden by the clitl's, and then returned slowly to her room, where she remained long in silent meditation. Dora came to tell her that Mr M was in the drawing-room, but she declined going down. She afterwards heard that his vexation at this was un- disguised, but she heeded it not. 52 fnt oil more |itl not )ira ill enter- lor ho here ? ? /AT GOD'S H ARREST. The young men wore not expected till six or seven o'clock in the evening. Tlie diiy was as full of occupatic^n as usual, and soon passed over. Then there were little extra preparations made for the sailors, and an abundant supper awaited them, but they came not. There were numerous surmises as to the cause of their delay, but none of them very satisfactory, for Darcy had promised certainly to be home at seven at furthest, and they had not gone in the direction of any friends likely to detain them ; how- ever, the family tried their best to quiet fear, and retire they mam IN GOD'S HARVEST. tliey were by the same fellows who had first called them murderers. But what do they mean? 'Tis better for us to face them at once and throw their accusation to the dogs, than skulk here like real criminals. Such was the feeling of both the gentlemen ; bur, poor Murty prayed and begged them to lie hidden. " Shure, yer honours, they swear tliey saw ye throwin* Mr M into the wather, and thin sailin' off, and who 'a to prove that ye didn't ? ^My word nor yer own won't vuUy a tlirawneen. Oh, gintlemen, stay where ye are, or go farther oil, but don't come next nor nigh them fiery villains, they '11 swear yer lives away as shure as I 'm here." The wretched old creature hanging over the fire had listened in silence to all, but now turned tov/aids Muity and uttered some sentences so rapidly in Irish that no one but himself could catch their meaning, but it evidently confirmed his fear of his young master's returning, and again he entreated him to keep out of sight. At last it was agreed that tliey should remain where they were until they heard from Darcy's father ; so they dismissed poor Murty once more, aiid it was on his reajipcarance near the Iddge that Bitldy met him, almost famished from fatigue and want of food. lie had been constrained to lie by hour after hour by the sight of groups of men who Betmed posted about in every direction, and were evidently intent on mischief, from the little he could liear of their talk. You have now the substance of Murly's explanation to 57 H A FAITHFUL LABOUR his master and the other gentlemen assembled, perhaps in rather a more lucid form than the original, and with some slight additions which were afterwards supplied. Possessed of this information, those considering the subject decided on sending at once to the house of young M 's parents, requesting them to tlirow any light they could on t' is mysterious affair, which, of course, must be brought as fully as possible before the proper authorities for investi- gation. The M family lived on the shore, a few miles from the lodge, and not far from the steep rugged rocks uudtT which the terrible accident occurred. An answer was soon returned, but of the most unsatisfactory nature ; in fact, it was but a violent reiteration of tlie charge first brouglit against young O'Brien and his friend by the savage men on the clifls. Mr M positively refused to unite with the other gentlemen in the examination of the affair, but was loud in his threats of vengeance, and in denunciations against every Protestant in the country, he himself being a bigoted Roman Catholic. As soon as Mr O'Brien found he could with any pro- priety leave the magistrate's house, he hurried back to his own, knowing well how much his poor family stood in need of comfort. Murty had been detained as a witness, but had men- tioned to Biddy the arrangement made in the old woman's cabin, and the girl now odered to convey any letter or message her master chose to send. The way was long and solitary, and the parts through which she must pass pro- J8 |IH IN GOD'S HARVEST. ips in some sessed ecided arents, n t' is lit as iivesti- l);i1»ly watched by tlie declared enemy, yet she did not ehrink from giving this proof of lier affection and gratitude to those through whose means she had received sucii blessings. The hesitation was all on their part ; they dreaded exposing the faithful creature to danger, yet knew not to whom besides to intrust so delicate a commission. Mr O'Brien deemed it imprudent to write lest his letter eliould increase Biddy's risk ; so at length it was reluctantly decided to instruct her fidly, and then leave her to explain all to the young men if she should be permitted to reach them. It was too dark now to think of setting out ; but at dawn of morning Biddy was ready, and with a basket of provisions, which it was thought were much needed by the absent ones, and a clear message in her mind, she set out cheerfully ; and although she saw several wild-lookinq men from time to time as she pursued her rugged way, Bucceeded, aftur some hours' toil, in reaching the isolated hovel. But there a bitter disa])pointment awaited her ; the young gentlemen had left during the night, and the old woman, who still reUiined her watch over the embers, only rocked herself to and fro, and muttered in Irish something that was unintelligible to Biddy whenever she questioned her. All that could be gained from her for a considerable time was, that they had gone away in the night. "Was nobody at all at all here since they came?" asked Biddy. No answer ; the rocking went on, with occasional groans m an accompaninirnt. " Thin musha, Peggy, can't ye be afthcr raisouin' wid 59 A FAITHFUL LABOUR hi. i-r me, an' not he like a duinl) liastc there, convarsin' v/id tliini few cinders. Shure an' I '11 make ye up a rousiu' fire in no time, if ye '11 only jist spake the few words I want to hear." This seemed to affect the old creature somewhat ; she stretched her skinny arms over the smouldei ag fire, and shivered, muttering in her native tongue — "Oh, heat's good." "Thin heat ye '11 have, if that's all ye want to loosen yer jaws." So the girl left the cahin in imrouit of fuel, which was scarce in these wihls. At Icngtli, in despair, she ran down to the shore, to try if any i)ic'ces of i)lank or otlier remnants of wrecked vessels might be found there, and succeeded in picking up an armful, which she carried up to the hut. As she entered, she perceived a small scrap of paper fast- ened to the lintel with a pin, and her cuiiosity induced her to take it down, when she found that there were on it a few lines within in pencil, and signed Daroy. Of course, she considered this lier master's proi)erty, and, without reading it, concealed it in a corner of her apron. Tlic lire was made, and j)roved a Lright one ; and although the shrivelled hand was shaken deiJrecatinLdv eacli time a iVesh stick was added, yet the glowing warmth soon re- vived the wretched creature, who so much needed it. "Good ! oil, 'tis good ! " she muttered again and again. Biddy thought she would seize the opportunity of this better mood to put a few more questions. Still grunts were the only rei)ly ; till at last, as a desperate means of arousing the old woman, she a.^ked suddenly — 6o "Tc IN GOD'S HARVEST. ill' firo want ; slic [e, and "Peggy, what 's come of Peter ? " An electric shock could not have produced more instant- aneous effects. Peggy trembled violently, tossed up her arms, threw back her head, muttering cries, almost shrieks, the while. Then turning fiercely on Biddy, she poured forth a torrent of invective, her face betraying every ai)i>earance of rage and hatred. Biddy had withdrawn to a safe corner ; she knew pretty well the effect her question would produce, and did not care to be within arm's length of the infuriated woman. After allowing the rage to spend itself, she approached, and taking the poor trembling hands of the creature, who was no.v ex- hausted and passive, she gently pressed her down into her seat : and kneeling beftn-e her, she said soothingly — " Arrah, Peggy, what for won't ye thrust me, that 's yer own flesh and blood ? Don't ye know me for your brother's child % An' do you think I 'd be afther buthrayin' the worst of my people ] Oil no, Peggy ; it 's not come to that wid me. It 's in me heart to help ye if I could ; and shure that 's one raison why I brought \\\) Piter. Isn't he my own first cousin ? An' wouUln't it be rale plasin' to me any day to own him afore the whole world ? An' I hope I '11 do it yet." The poor old woman had gradually softened in appear- ance ; her impatient grunts had turned to heavy sighs, and now she fairly broke into sobs, while tears, which were rare with her, cour.sed down her wrinkled face. "Tliin maybe ye would, maybe ye would ; but it's few that are willin' to look lovin* on my poor boy now ; and Where's the wonder, when his own mother disowns him? 6i I A FAITHFUL LABOUR Ochone, ochone ! but tliey put it on me. Shure, didn't they tell me if ever I spoke a civil word to him, unless he came hack to the old thrue Church, that they'd let the divil fly away Avith me, body and sowl, and send the hoy to keep me company ? Ochone, ochone ! and haven't 1 to shut me eyes when the shadow of him comes across the door, and cover up me head for fear of seeing hiin, when the poor heart brings me the bit of food he's starviu' for hisself, and niver a one word passes me lips to hini when he kneels on thini stones, and prays to God, and coaxes meself \ Oh, 'tis breakin' my heart intirely ! I wish I was under tlie sod, out of this misery ! " Here the desolate being wailed so piteously, that Biddy's heart ached, and tears flowed Vast. She hardly knew what to say ; yet to listen in silence seemed to her heartless. " Peggy agrah, 1 'm thinkin' that if you an' Peter was jist to make up yer minds firm and lave the counthry in- tirely, 'twould be the best plan. An' I'm certain shure the masther would help ye ; he 's good to all that '11 let him." Here Peggy gasped out, " Oh but, Biddy, wasn't it him that brought all tlie throuble on me an' the boy ? Didn't himself and the misthress put the heresy into his head, an* wasn't that the beginniu' an' the ind of it all ? An' now my pace is gone ! " Biddy rarely spoke of her own experience. Her truly humble mind, shrank from the idea of commending herself to others by dwelling on her progress in holiness ; and as for her shortcomings and sins of every other class, sho brought them with a bowed-down heart before God'a 62 J > mere away dear • t IN GOD 'S HA R I'ES T. I ) J I morcy-seat, and earnestly Roiight to have them washed away in the Llood of the Lamb. But GocVs cause was very dear to her ; and tliere were times when slie felt as if it might be advanced by telling of the great things He hud done for her soul ; and then with an inward prayer to be kept in a lowly spirit, she ventured on the subject, guarding against the desire for praise, and not holding up lierself, but God's dealings with her, for the edification of her fellows. Such was her frame of mind now as she told poor Peggy of the many blessings which God had granted her through the faithful teaching she had received in Mra O'Brien's school, and in her family home. And by degrees she turned to the forbidden topic of Peter's conversion, and in her heart she thanked her heavenly Father that she might with perfect truth speak of the persecuted lad as one who had indeed been born again. She reminded his mother of his early waywardness, his reckless idleness, being contented to live on her hard earnings, and see her wear out her strength in order to procure food for him, whilst he indulged in every evil taste, and wholly neglected his duty to her. With all this she contrasted tlie subdued respectful manner he gradually acquired towards her and others ; the patient industry and self-denial he exhil>ited ; the carefulness for her comfort, and anxiety for her change of heart ; the meekness and purity of his language, instead of his fonner ])rofanity and jcslings, which were not con- venient. All this she dwelt on with the afllicted mother, till that mother's heart melted within her, and a hope that all was not lost sprung up to sustain her. Biddy then re- peated from memory (for it had been well stored) several 63 A FAITHFUL LABOUR I passages of Scripture wliicli, far better than any human words, taught the bruised heart, and healed it as they taught. Once more she talked of emigration to her, and offurcd to ask Mr O'Brien's advice ; and the poor old timid woman at length consented to this ; and laying her hand on Eiddy's, she said — " 1 did not think I 'd ever tell mortal what I heard from poor Pc'tei-'s lips, or ever as mucli as acknowledge I'd seen him ; but now, my girl, I '11 not hide it, an' I know you'll not betray me or him. The night the young giutlo- men came to my poor hut — 'twas bare enough, no sticks for the fire, no food for my cravings, and I was sick in my heart, and sick in my poor bones — I could scarce sit up on the stool, and hadn't the spirit to look out for anything, so I thought I must die ; and a poor welcome I gjivc them, — as bad as you got. They spoke civil and soft ; and althougli I wouldn't answer them, 1 couldn't help thinking how much better their behaviour was than what I met with from them that has me in hand to do for my soul, as themselves Bay ; but I was stubborn, and wouldn't talk, so they laid themselves down on the lloor and slept for a while, till some one up pulled the latch, and came in. 1 knew 'twas Peter, though my eyes didn't see him, and he didn't come empty. He laid down a little bundle close to me, and said in his lovin' way, ' God save all here,' but I had no ' Save ye kindly ' for him ; so he looked Avonderin' at the gintle- men, and asked when they came, but I darn't speak. Tie looked as if he was thinkin' for a while, and then he woke up Mr Darcy, and told him the boys was up all over the 64 IN GOD'S HARVEST. T human as they rl ofTercd lI wonuin haml on I lioanl edge I 'd ' I know ig giiitle- 4ick.s lor ck in my dt up on thing, so hcni,— as [thougli I ow much ith from lemselvcs :]iey hiid rliilo, till ew 'twas In't come and said 10 * Save le gintle- ■ak. Tie he woke over the hills hiokin' out for him, and lie M never get off with hia life if he didn't run at once. ]Mr Darcy t(dd the other one, and they talked, and then asked Peter where they ought to go to. He said there was such a lot out huntin' for them, that it wouldn't be en^y to get off at all ; but maybe, if they went to II , they might find a schooner there, and hide on board her. This seemed a good plan, and they agreed to it, and asked Peter to let the family know, but Mr Darcy tore a slip of paper out of a little book, and wrote a word or two on it, and gave it to Peter, and he said he 'd take it to the Loilge, but first he went to see them a piece of the way to R , and as he was goin' out he stuck the paper in the door, and I 've never seen his face since, and I 'm fearin' the boys have caught him, and there's an end of us both. I hope I '11 be forgiven for tellin' you all ; but somehow you got over me when you talked lovin' of the lad." Biddy must go. She left the contents of her basket with Peggy, kissed the poor worn face, and turned on her way homeward, wondering at th^ work she hud found to do in the lonely hut. ■^rllU'^ CIIArTER VIII. (L^t |lcb Dome. " But there are storms within Tluu licavc tlic MruKjjlinn heart with wilder din Ami tlicre are pdwcr and love, The maniac's riisliiii^j frenzy to reprove j And wlun he takes liis seat, Cli)thc(l ami in calmness at his S.ivionr's feet, Is not tlio power as straiHje, tin.- love as Mcst, Ai ulicn lie said, ' Lie still,' and ocean sank to rest." ANY nioiitlis passed without the slightest tidings of the init^siiig ones. It came to he a received conviction that young M had been really lluug into the sea by intention, and Darcy O'Brien antl his friend were regarded as mur- derers by the majority. Some ventured to urge in extenuation that the violent domineering temper of young M had probably provoked them ; but this did not al)solvc them from the dread crime. The M family bore their loss strangely. Wlien amongst Protestants they si)oke most re- vengefully, and bewailed their bereavement in the most extravagant manner, but it was said that in their daily habits there was no change, nor appcar- 66 ing slightest iHie to be g M- ition, and i as mur- urge in temper of ; but this > strangely, most re- nt in tlie 1 that in r appear- f: I THE NEW HO.VE. once of porrow. Not so in the O'Brien family. Tlnir th'cp tribulation marked (.-very hour, eveiy act. 'i'lio mother's health failed, and tlie fatlur, witli all his un- Bellish ellbrts to conceal it, lost strength and spirits. Tlio chililren, too, shared in the melancholy change ; and this it uas which iirst aroused the parents. They saw that s(mie- thing must be done at once to break in on the gloom which was settling down on their home. It is true that they had not forgotten God in the day of trouble, nor had their heavenly Father forsaken them, but they were in the furnace, and the lire was exceed- ing fierce — not for their destructicm, but truly for their purification, for God loved them, and hud received them as sons. After thinking over many plans for the family benefit, without being able to decide on any, their thoughts were thrown into a particular channel by the arrival of a letter from Peter, who, under Mr O'ihieu's kind patronage, had been sent to Canada with his nujther shortly after Biddy's interview in the niountain cabin. Tlie letter was toMurty (now freed from restraint). It told of a prosperous voyage, and early employment in the Lower Province, which en- abled the young nnm to support his mother comfortably ; but he said he had latelv heard something Cas it seemed. accidentally) Avhich made him suppose that Mr Darcy O'Brien and his young friend were in the Upper Province, and tliat, with his mother's approval, he was preparing to go there, and make a new home. The old woman had rallied so much from the time she left Ireland that she was not afraid of the journev, and expressed the strongest ' 67 1 ( i^H .im ' II T//E NEW HOME. tlc'sire to sco al'tcr the young gentleman for his/a^/icr's ami mother's sal-c. This letter at once decidod their plans, and soon prepar- ations were commenced for emigration. It was at tliis point that our story opened ; hut in order to make the Canadian i)art of the littli; family history more distinct, wo returned to the period at wliich the severest of their trials commenced. "Wc may now pursue our travellers on their way from Qiu-hec to Kingston, hut must not linger to describe all the maguiiioeut scenery, the rising towns, the extensive puhlic works in their commencement, and very many other ohjects whit h interested them. The journey in tliose days was not easily accomitlished. There were no luxurious Hoating jialaces to carry one over the waters. The Durham hoats and a few small steamers were the only nvailahle nuans of transportation hy water, and these liad not nnich to hoast of in the way of comfort. However, our friends were thankful for everything, even of the humhlest kind, which facilitated tlieir niovenu'nts. They longed for quiet, and rejoiced in the hope of enjoying it in its simjdest form. The one great grief whinh had befallen them since they left their country was Bo blended with consolation, that they never spoke of it as a misfortune, and their hoi)e of (hiding a lost son grew stronger as they approached the part of the cohmy in which they trusted he might be. It seemed very strange to them that they had never lieard fi»mi Darcy, yet tluy would not nurse evil surmises, nor dim their hopes by dwelling on painful possibilities. Hope for tijue and hope for eternity they regarded as their privi- ' 68 ? THE NEW HOME. ifhcr's and n projxir- is at til is niiike the si i net, MO ii-'ir trials s on thfir lin^'cr to owns, the and very ^ journey wore no i; watei-8. i tlio only Ihe.so Jiiid However, u of the a. They enjoying -f MJiich itry M'as 'V spoko ig n lo8t t of tho Beenicd I'd from nor dim I<»jie for ir privi- loj^o, and tlicy enjoyed tliem wisely. They were much comforted by the injproved appearance of their dear chil- dren, and the children njoiced to observe returning,' vi.^our and health in their beloved parents. So a (juiit happiness pervaded the family ; and thus they escaped in a great measure the sinking emptiness of heart and sour discontent which but too often render the first few months of emigrant life a misery, liiddy and Murty (who had derived their ideas of IJritish America from those in their own rank whose friends had emigrated to the United States, and written home wild accounts of what they had heard rather than seen) were vastly surprised, and very often disajipointed. They conceived the whole North American continent as possessed of but one climate, similar natural productions, and the inhabitants perfectly alike in habits and pursuits; so that they were not con- scious of any absurdity in asking peruiission to go into orchards to gather a few oranges, for hadn't Pat Doolan, who went to Ameriky two years ago, written home to say lie could get lots of lenu^ns and oranges for the pickin' of them, and that there were whole fields of grapes? And Murty's expectation of employment in the cotton planta- tions was only marred by the fear of the niggers who camo in droves to work for the white man. Varitnis and extra- vagant were the blunders these simjde people were con- tinually nuiking, but they were always kindly corrected, and the ycningest of the family even knew better than to wound their feelings by rude ridicule. They remembered the injunction, " lie courteous," and were not so ill-taught as to suppose this courtes*' was to be extended exclusively " 69 II THE NEW HOME. to those equal to tliom in social position. ^Fr O'Briin had listened attentively to the many discussions eiinied on at the puhlic tah)es connected with setlk'inent in the cohmies, nnd when he met with any person of particular intelli- gence or exjterieiice in such thinj,'s, he ventured to re(pust n little fiirtlier itiforination, and rarely was denied it, lie greatly enjoyed the friendly, frank manners of tliose into whose society mere accident of travel threw him, and con- cluded in his own mind tliat many opportunities of show- ing kindnesr, and speaking a word in season were lost through the needless frigidity of manner it was dei'med proper to assume in the old countries towards all to whom you had no formal introduction ; and ^Irs O'lJrien, although she carefully cultivated modest diiiidence in jier daughters, and guarded them against undue familiarity, yet never ohjected to the interchange of little i)olite atten- tions and ohliging courteousness with those ahout tliem. She listened with interest to gay, animated conversation when the suhject was useful, or ut least perfectly unohjec- tiouahle ; but levity, frivolity in any form, she never per- mitted in her own children, and if it were introduced hy others, she instantly toidc steps to suhdue it. Witticisms drawn from the Scriptures their parents ahhorred, and the young people never iiululged in them tl^emselves, nor did they sndle at them from others. They knew too well that a light use of sacred things was profane and olli'usive to Ood. But whilst we tell of sentiments and hahits, wo nllow our travellers to make great strides towards their western goal. They hatl bnuight out a few introductory lettura to Bonie gentlemen supposed to he living about 70 t Loni a ci that aciu addi On tion me iuvi OCC: cun Bevt i*«» THE NF.W HOME. , 111 a very 'illii;,'o, and ;h lie, took »l><)iirlioo(l, K' tlt't;i(li'(l. t'lH! li(> also K'st I'stim- u! inissioii ; and Ion;,' ainl j^ladly nd-hcarttd Hul till) »>!' the two r, with its clainiH tor [ HUH, and lie c«>nlin^' st KuniHRr wed tlicni- J of thoni ii'a;,'e, and ipH of tli lilliiuiltios oUh) to 111* lu' ndin- eiidiiii'd ; losjH'iily, loirnt or wilfully i^ijorant man, can scarcely succeed in making a prospero'.is home in any land, least of all in Canada. After a lonj» ramhle to tlie north-west, Mr O'lUien returned to tell hid family he had purchasiil a farm on the shore of Lake Huron, not far from the little inomiHing villa<,'e of (Joderii h. They all rej(»iced, and tln-y would have had hri-^hter thijughta still, had they known that some clue to the wan- derings of the fugitives had heen olitained; hut Mr O'llrieii 11 IVained from t» Uing them of it ; there wus still so much uncertainty clouding his information. They had i»rudrntly taken the house l»y the week, and contented themselves with the simidest accommodation, — the furniture, of which they had jairchased u small HUpidy in Toronto, had been left in its packings ready for removal to the home ; their hedding, sea-chests, and a few indis|iensiil»les, satislied ihrm for the present. They were cheerfully helpful to each otiur, and not disposed to murmur at anything. The first Sahhalh was a delight to them, and found tlnni all in the house of (Jod, where they heard a l.iithful declar- ation of the truth as it is in JesuH. As yet there had not Ixjen u church erected, hut servici; was held in the Court- liouse, and the room was crowded ; hut the congregation wore n singular appearance in the eyes of those newly arrived. The fashions of a century hack mingled with more modi in costume. Yo\ing girls wore thiir gn-at- grandmother's " best cloak " or *' new honnet," of eighty or ninety years' Btanding. Those tieasuns had heen hroiight from the old countrif^ and were hoarded with tin; most Hcrupi ' »UH care, ftn, and didn't they ate as swate as a nut /" *' Murty, I 'm a>ham«(l i»f ye ! Shurt', thin, yp wouldti't he afther evenin' our hit of a cahin to the resju'ct the niia- thresH has a good right to / But come along, at all evints, nn* hile the pitaties." This was the 1)i'ginning of l*iddy's household cnro8 in the new home. The ]»otatoes, boiled ii 1' lun; from a rope fastened some (. 'e wouMii't t^t tlio ini.s- all uviiits, 111 cttrcH in liifh hun^L; iiiMioy to a 'y contt'iit lVi> tliin;^.s Ht chaiiL;o *^ n for the better. Honnis were subdivitltil, doors supplied, the loft made Imbitalde, the walls sheeted inside with thin hoiirdji, Hhelvcs and racks ])ut up, euidioanls contrived in C(»rnei'H, and Hhiittera ]»ut on the windows, which were eii- lari^'ed so as to admit Hiiflicient li^ht for convenience and heallh. The lloorini,' was also renewed, and a little cook- ing,' wlied ))ut outside one of the doors, so that liidtly luul the satisfaction of feeding' herself in "her own jdace," and not "pushin'up with the family." All tlu-se improvements were made "between times" — that is, on rainy days or in liours when it was not necessary to be abroad in the lielda or woods. The settlement around tin; new home was a thrivin;,' thon;^di new one. Several skilful fanners, from England and Sc(»tland, had succeeded in nuikinj,' "larj^'e clearances,'* and were "j,'ettin}^ thin,L,'s snu^;." They possessed means enough to be lilxial in their purchases of thin;,'s most use- ful on their farms, 'i'hey all had oxeu and horses, cows and pigs. Sheep had fared so badly amongst the N\(dves jind an occasional visit from a bear, that few cared to try them a_;.iiii. There was a kisen eye for the profit. Work, work, wjus the geneml motto ; money, money, the lead- ing n»otive. Young and
vith few exceptions. They worked indefatigahly during,' the week in the fields or woods, and yet when Sunday came they were not to be seen, unless, indeed, passing along to sj)eiul the aftenioou with a neighbour, who, of course, having to receive them hosj)ita1)ly, must give up public worship also — thu8 preferring the pleasure of sin for a season to the ser- vice of the living God. As intimacy with his neighbours increased, he understood more of this, and ventured, in a kind, respectful manner, to expostulate with them regard- ing it. lie t(dd them how those that robbed God of Ills Sabbaths robbed themselves of God's favour, and though they might seem to ju'osper for a time without seeking J lis blessing, destruction was ever at hand, though they saw it not. They weT'«> trusting in their own arm, and believing that by their own might of industry ami skill they secured wealth. But who can beast of to-morrow ? Wlio knowetli what a day may bring fort'\ ? lie was listened to civib;', but his hearers eeemed to think they had good reastaia to ur^jo in excuse for their neglect of public worship. They said, " Their hoi-scs, poor bnites, were pretty well used-up by the hurry of the week, and they did not fee I like doing more themselves than the jobs that had to bo done, whatever tunu'd up, feeling tired with hard work." 78 'n, to find •u'o. For liiit tlicro I's of the ii'ir jiliU'o Avitli few tliu Week mio tlioy to SJ)011(l laving to lip also — > llie sor- •i;• r//£ NEW HOME. end, Avhen you have despised Him all through life, as I did ; but if what you say is true, perhaps" Here his voice failed. Again Mr O'Brien knelt and en- treated for mercy through the merits of Christ Jesus. The poor dying man made an effort to stretch out his hand to- wards his friend (for friend indeed he had proved himself), and when Mr O'Brien clasped it tenderly in his own, said — "If I find favour with God, it will be through youi guidance to Jesus. I never sought Him, or knew I should seek Him, before : God bless you ! Tell your son to for- give me. God bless you ! " The poor discoloured lips ceased to move, the hand lay cold and clammy in Mr O'Brien's, and, with a few deep- dra^vn sighs, the spirit departed. With deep sadness Mr O'Brien turned away. As he left the room, he said to the woman of the house — " Be so good as to have all done with decency, and be assured you shall be fairly recompensed. I will meet all the necessary expenses." The kind-hearted woman nodded her head ; and Mr O'Brien made his way down to the shore, to meditate on the wonderful ways of God, and to praise Him for His goodness to the children of men. The doctor recommended an early burial ; so, as soon as arrangements could be made, the poor remains were laid in their last resting-place. No priest attended. He had been twice sent for, but had not returned home from a distant journey. Those present requested Mr O'Brien to say a few words at the grave. " Without them," they said, " it would seem so little like the burial of a Christian." He complied, 99 i ■4 m liii' jli'l 'M ! : 'i ..t ^1 f -I ill 11 i'^H li i!iii r v ^._ ,^ ;v i I liii Itiili:-^ It JII I'.ii - TIfE NEW HOME. though his heart was indeed heavy. The verses he selected were John xi. 25, 26 : "I am the resurrection and the life : he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live : and whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die." Psalm xc. : " Lord, Thou hast been our refuge from one generation to another. Before the mountains were brought forth, or ever the earth and the world were made, Thou art God from everlasting and wurid without end. Oh teach us to nrumber our days, that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom. Show Thy servants Thy work, and their chil- dren Thy glory. And the glorious majesty of the Lord our God be upon us. Prosper Thou the work of our hands upon us. Oh prosper Thou our handiwr rk. Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Ghost ; as it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end, Amen." Then a short, fervent prayer, beginning with humble confession to God of the utter unworthiness of man at his best, — ^a cry for mercy through the blood-shed- ding of the Lamb of God, — a petition for a spirit of true repentance, — a desire after holiness — for the sanctifying in- fluence of the Holy Spirit, and everlasting salvation ; and for all these great gifts, a soul filled with praise and thanks- giving to Him who found out a way whereby He might be just and yet a justifier — "who gave His only-begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should be saved." The little company present was formed of members of various denominations, a few Eoman Catholics included ; but all, with uncovered heads and an appearance of solemn reverence, listened throughout, and frequently uttered a fervent Amen. loo CHAPTER IX. ^ Reunion. " I found trouble and heaviness, and I called upon the name of the Lord : Oil, Lord, I beseech Thee, deliver my soul. I am well pleased that the Lord hath heard the voice of my prayer ; that He hath inclined His ear unto me : therefore will I call upon Him as long as I live." M MEDIATELY cafter the funeral, Mr O'Brien set out for home laden with tid- ings of great importance to his family, yet oppressed with sad regrets for the fate of poor M . His journey proved one of much toil and difficulty. Sleighing had passed away, and the roads were in a particularly trjang condition, either frozen in hard rough ridges or covered with sheets of smooth ice, from hoth of which the poor horse shrunk ; and when he was induced to go on, the rider suffered not a little. But to use a vehicle was out of the question. However, Mr O'Brien recol- lected that he had set out at the call of duty, and whatever troubles met him by the way, however lOI 'ill: i!; . rm liiiw i^i 11 1 Mil'''' I ii!! !^ !■' k _ A REUNIOI^. serious, however trivial, should be borne patiently, as appointed for him by One without whose permission a sparrow cannot fall to the ground — by whom the very hairs of the head are numbered. Besides, had he not experienced a most remarkable answer to prayer ? Had lie not found peace and comfort from an unthought-of source ? His mind dwelt on these things, and grew strong in the recollection of God's mercies ; so that the end of the journey was attained without the irritation and wearing impatience which one forgetful of God's providence would have surely suffered under.* As Mr O'Brien approached home, his spirits rose, and he thought of the happiness his tidings would bring to the hearts of his wife and children ; and as he mused on this, a dear, familiar voice met his ear — Moira and Maud stood before him. They were returning from the house of one of the settlers, who lived about a mile from their own home, and Moira had delightedly hailed him. " My daughters ! my darlings ! Thank God I find you looking so well. How is mother ? — how are all ? " " Oh, very well indeed, papa ; and how rejoiced they will be to have you home again. We began to feel uneasy about you, not having had a letter for many days ; but I hope you have not been ill ? " As they talked they neared " The New Home," and met on its threshold a loving welcome indeed. Mr O'Brien had spent five weeks away from his family, but not in vain ; and his first feeling on entering his house was one of deep thankfulness to God, who had kept him and his beloved ones in safety, and suffered them to meet 102 A REUNION, a^ain in peace and joy. He took the first opportunity of being alone with his wife to relate all we have told our readers of poor young M . Her astonishment was, of course, very great. She asked what his motive for coming to Canada had been ; how long he had been out in the country ; and a great many other questions which her husband was unable to answer. He reminded her of the short and troubled time which had passed from the night of the wreck till the death of poor M , and of the large portion of that which he felt constrained to spend in efforts for the unhappy young man's safety of soul and body, but with her he regretted not knowing more particulars con- cerning him. It was arranged between them to write at once to M 's parents, and then came the thought that it might be proper to examine liis papers, so as not needlessly to pain them, but spare them in every way, as he had been entreated to do by their lost son. So the pocket-book and a few letters found in the pockets were looked at. In the little book were several bank bills of considerable value, some half-obliterated writing, and on a card the name of a vessel, said to have sailed from the west of Ireland on the very date of their son's and young Forrester's disappearance from the hut on the coast. Next a packet of letters, tied together, was looked at. To the painful surprise of the father and mother, they found that they were their own to their son, and his to them, — ^he latter dated from different places in Canada and the States, and in each a complaint of never having received a line from home since they had been obliged to fly, although they had written so often, and sent their address. In one 103 11: h i: ] r.i A REUNIOl^, of the earliest, Darcy asked if Peter had been true to his promise of seeing them, and mentioning that, by some information he had given them, they had been induced to leave for Canada. All this puzzled Mr and Mrs O'Brien for a time, until at length it seemed plain to them that young M had, by some unfair means, got possession of the letters sent from and to Ireland by the family : this would account for mucli that had hitherto so greatly distressed them. Again, they examined the papers, hoping to find some clue to their son's present place of refuge ; nor were they disappointed. On a sort of little rough chart, drawn probably by young M himself, they found places marked, which corresponded with the addresses sent in Darcy's letters ; and, by tlie dates, they easily ascertained that the last letter had been written about three months before from Buffalo, whither Darcy and his young friend had gone in pursuit of employ- ment, hoping, as they said, " to do something respectable for their maintenance there, though it was but a small place as yet," — its being near Canada seemed to recommend it to them. Oh, how did the parents' hearts bound with joy as tlioy thought of an early restoration of their first-born ! Tlie hope was too sweet to be long kept from their other children, so all were called and told the glad tidings. Then were demonstrations of delight characteristic of each. Biddy and Murty had not been excluded, nor had they been behind the others in expressions of pleasure. Biddy could not refrain from saying, " I knowed it all along meself ; shure, thin, didn't meself often tell Murty, 104 A REUNION. and Murty tclled niesclf the same, that there was no nso in gpakin, but Misther Darcy was safe enough, and would be liome wid us some fine mornin' ; for shure, an' didn't tlie Lord mate the masther, and every soul of thim, pray to llini night an' mornin', to keep him safe in soul and body, and give him back to us in His own time ; and who ever knowed any one pray in vain? And now it's meself that '11 begin right away to tidy up the room for him — and, misthress, mayn't we fatten up them chickens, and air the new blankets, and cut Aown a ham to steep, and scrub out the floor, an' " "Yes, yes, Biddy, thank you — all in good time; just now, please help Miss Dora to get one of your nicest teas, and we'll think of the other matters presently. "We shall, I fear, have to wait a little longer for our dear son ; but you shall hear of our plans, and we are much obliged to you and Murty for your glad share in our happiness." Biddy vanished. The girl was improving much in every respect. Cut off from the associates of her early days, and living amidst a carefully trained and educated family, she gradually laid aside the objectionable peculiarities of man- ner and diction, which naturally clung to her so long as her intimacy with the illiterate peasantry in the west of Ireland continued. It was only when particularly excited that the old weakness showed itself ; and, at such times, both she and her brother would resort to their native language for a fuller expression of their feelings, and seem forgetful of the many lessons they received from the young ladies ; but this was so harmless a return to early habits, 105 o Ii ''iiiliiii'H ii 'H 111 I V A REVNION'. that it only excited a smile, and indeed seemed greatly to amuse the young ones. Murty, naturally of a more reserved and quiet turn of mind, did little more than coincide with Biddy by sundry nods find winks, interspersed with a few words ; but he felt as heartily as she did the joys and sorrows of their kind employers. Nothing aroused the indignation of both more than any slight, real or imagined, put on "the family ;" and on one occasion, when some attempt was made to induce them to leave their present home and accept higher wages in an- other, their wrath fairly lioiled over, and it is to be feared their language in expressing their resentment was not the choicest, for Biddy, in mentioning the circumstance after- wards to Miss O'Brien, seemed a good deal self-condemned. But she said it was so out and out mean and imprincipled entirely, to try and coax them away with fair words and bribes, that she did think it was not altogether wrong to be angry ; " but then you see, miss, I 'm so wild-like, that I always run away wid it." She got some good advice from her young mistress, and promised to keep it in mind. Only just if they came over that again, she thought it would be no harm to tell them that she was brought up to better manners, and saw it written down in the Bible, that people should do to others as they wished others to do to them. " An' I 'ni certain sure, miss, not one of them would be willin' for my misthress to try and coax away their ser- vants an' leave them to do their own work the best way they could by thimselves." To this argimient, Miss O'Brien could see no objection ; 1 06 iemed greatly to d quiet turn of Viddy by sundry words; but he >ws of their kind more than any y ;" and on one induce them to 2r wages in an- ; is to be feared ent was not the umstance after- 5elf-condemned. id unprincipled fair words and jether wrong to wild-like, that tie good advice aep it in mind, she thought it i brouglit up to the Bible, that others to do to of them would away their ser- : the best way no objection ; A reunion: but she warned Biddy to resort to it only in case of neces- sity, and then, with quiet voice and manner, reminded her that angry words only bred discord. Letters had been despatched to Buflfalo, and the replies were eagerly looked for; but nearly three weeks passed without any tidings, — then came a letter from George Forrester, written, as he said, at Darcy's bedside. Whilst they were employed in Buffalo, cholera appeared, and swept off numbers of the regular inhabitants, but. more still of the emigrants, who were, generally speaking, miser- ably poor, and destitute of comforts. Sheds had been erected outside the limits of the town, and thither all those Avho could not pay for attendance were sent, and amongst them poor Darcy ; but he was not alone in this dark hour, — the God of his father had mercy on him, and by the light of the Spirit, showed him the vileness of his heart, and led him to Christ for cleansing and pardon. He had long known religion by the hearing of the ear, — his mind had been stored with the letter of Scripture, — but heretofore it had not been to him a saving knowledge. There was a certain amount of propriety in his conduct, and moral excellence in his principles, which obtained for him a rather high reputation amongst his associates ; but which left him as much as ever in need of a new heart, — of a death unto sin — a new birth unto righteousness ; and of this, illness and indigence were made the blessed means of convincing him. George Forrester, with all the generosity and sincerity of a warm unselfish heart, had accompanied his friend to the wretched comer allotted him in the sheds. There he 107 1 ! 1^ A reunion: had nursed him tenderly ; secured for him all the medical care that entreaty and expostulation could obtain ; and by filling different minor offices of trust under the health- officers, he found means to provide little comforts, which greatly tended to the recovery of his friend. And what was his reward? The unspeakable gift was revealed to him whilst he indulged his companion in his wish to have the Scriptures read during his slow recovery ; and as Darcy spoke to him of muny things which hitherto he had only considered essential for the aged or dying, his soul was opened to receive the glorious news of the gospel ; and the two young exiles soon learned to thank God for His corrections, and declare that it was good for them to have been afflicted, — better to have been in the house of mourn- ing than in that of mirth and laughter. They had just obtained permission to return to their posts in town when letters were handed them by their employer. They had left directions at the post-office to have any letters for them sent with his to his place of business whenever his messenger called ; and in this way they had the great consolation of receiving at last the long- wished-for news. It seemed, as George Forrester said in his letter, " to put new blood in Darcy's veins, and fresh muscles in his limbs, to read his father's letter. And although he was still very unlike his old self, and was obliged to take rest whenever he could find time for it, yet there was no doubt that the prospect of being once more with his family, and acquitted fully of the foul charge which had so long hung over him, would sooi ;nake a man of him ; so that they might hope 1 08 I m ill the medical btain ; and by er the health- miforts, which 1. And what as revealed to n his wish to overy ; and as itherto he had ying, his soul e gospel ; and i God for His them to have -ise of moiirn- turn to their liem by their post-office to his place of d in this way last the loni,^- Btter, "to put in his limbs, was still very •est whenever >ubt that the md acquitted ng over him, T might hope I^^Hilt' THK Wlil.COME TO THE NEW HOME. " Within the ten days the poor fellows found themselves once more with true friends. The meeting was one . . . which few could imagine morr full of happiness and gratitude than it really was." — Pn^i' log. iy-^s^. A REUNION. TM^-r^xM. to see liim in a few days — eight or ten, perhaps. And," the young man went on to say, " Darey insists on my accompanying him to * The New Home.' What do you and Mrs O'Brien say, my dear sir ? For myself, I confess it is my great wish to be with you. Say I may go, and I shall, with delight, be Darcy's companion by the way." Of course, the invitation was gladly given, and within the ten days the poor fellows found themselves once more with true friends. The meeting was one of those things which no one should attempt to describe, but which few could imagine more full of happiness and gratitude than it really was. Once more Darcy had to submit to be treated as an invalid, and during the time that he lay on his bed, with his parents as his nurses, much of what I have already tokl of himself and young Forrester was related. ^. ice more witli niagine nitin- !i;i;! 11 Hi i'l I <<' II i *-■*''" ■l!:: 'I I )IU i^ a ,3 ill ililiS \d CHAPTER :j:. gi CItaring of tl^c Cloubs. " No longer hoary winter reigns, No longer binds the streams in chains, Or heaps with snow tlie meads; Anayed with robe of rainbow-dye, At Inst the Spring appears on high, And smiling over earth and sky. Her new creation leads.— Gra/tatne, PRING had recally set in, thougli the trees were not green, nor the flowers blooming, as they would have been found at the same season in Ireland ; but the sweet soft air, bright sunshine, longer days, and milder nights, soon wrought a change most welcome to all. Occupa- tions in the fields were resumed ; and, even with the fresh willing hands of the new comers, it was found that ca"!v rising and steady diligence were requisite to accomplish all the necessary labour. But they had learned to think, and fully believe, that God, in appointing the labours of the hands unto fallen man, had remembered mercy,— that useful employment, so far from being a disgrace, no A CLEARING OF THE CLOUDS. ennobled a man, — ^whereas idleness and sloth only became a fool. Still, Mr O'Brien was careful not to encourage or allow excess, even in industry. He knew that it was in vain, and but lost labour, that men hasted to rise up early, extended their labour so far into the night, and ate the bread of carefulness, if their hearts were inordinately set on gain, and their chief desire was for the riches of this world. To be diligent in business was with him a recognised duty ; but he remembered that those who made haste to be rich, fell into many snares, and hurt their own souls. So, by precept and example, he enforced temperance in all things. And however necessary attention to household care and agricultural pursuits might be, he never allowed them to interfere with duties of a higher order. No haste to meet the demands of the farm without, or thrift within, would be accepted as sufficient excuse for the neglect of private, family, or public worship. "God first, and His creatures afterwards," was a household word with him and his family ; and he often took an opportunity of speaking it amongst his neighbours also, though many of them did not relish it in the least, and indirectly argued against it, saying that " it is sinful to waste, and without working late and early, much will be lost," — then, " when you pay away money for labour, it is only fair that you should get the worth of it." That " you had a right to do as you liked with your own time, and didn't hurt any one by doing so." To such sentiments Mr O'Brien would give very distinct replies, being careful not to wrangle or stir up angry passions, but not afraid to be faithful. He III 1! i pip Hi! ii A CLEARING OF THE CLOUDS. proved that time is one of the most precious talents com- mitted to our care, and that we do waste that when we expend it to an imlawful extent on ourselves, — that it is to be used for God's glory, as well as everything else we have. " Oh, then, I guess you 'd have us running from meeting to meeting, and using up our horses and our time waiting on the preachers here and there ; and what would become of our families then ? " " Not so," Mr O'Brien would reply ; " I find it written that * a good man will guide his affairs with discretion.' * Be thou diligent to know the state of thy flocks ; and look well to thy herds.' * By much slothfulness the build- ing decayeth, and through idleness of the hands the house droppeth through.' And these words convince me that diligence in business is a duty ; but there is a great differ- ence between diligence and entire devotion to the affairs of time, to the neglect of the things of eternity. If the body needs care, and it is right to provide for its wants, — how much more precious is the soul, and how much pains should we take in doing all that we are commanded for its safety ? As for running about from place to place, and preacher to preacher, I cannot see it at all justifiable. I conceive those who do so neglect the warning we find in 2 Timothy iv. 3, ' heaping to themselves teachers, having itching ears,' — in danger of becoming * idle, wandering about from house to house : and not only idle, but tattlers also, and busybodies, speaking those things which they ought not.' No, I believe we do far better by waiting on God in humility, gathering up the morsels He sends us by the 112 A CLE AH I AG OF THE CLOUDS. hauJs of His servants, hearkening diligently to the Word, which is above all price, all preaching, and only valuing the teachings from the pulpit as far as they bring forth precious things from, the treasury of the Scriptures. I ani afraid our ears itch too much for the gratification of our tastes, and are often deaf to words which might teach our hearts. One upholds Paul, another Apollos, whilst both forget Christ. One boasts of his favourite preacher's fine voice and grand delivery ; another of the startling effects of the discourses he hears. Is it very sure that either or both look for Jesus through the medium of these mere means? Are they quite certain that they sit and listen that their souls may be fed with the bread of life, rather than that peculiar taste, or ambition, or enthusiasm may be gratified ? I can remember myself, returning from hear- ing a strange preacher, and feeling quite enraptured with his eloquence, quite excited by his energetic appeal to my senses, and yet wholly unhumbled, — wholly unenlightened as to my own exceeding sinfulness and need of a Saviour. I do not mean to say the fault was all the preacher's — far from it ; but does it not prove that mere excitement may be mistaken for real edification, and the pleasure the ear and taste have experienced be falsely set down to growth in grace ? And surely this is a grave error — most mislead- ing, and having a tendency to shut us up in false security l)y persuading us there is peace and safety, when we are really far oflT from God. Then some one would say— ' Then it seems you despise eloquence, and would have one listen in an unmoved w^ay to all that might be said.' No, no, my friend, I do not despise the least of God's gifts, 113 p lli i; III I 11 il ii pi Mil A CLEARING OF THE CLOUDS. but I would not have darkness called light, nor mere ex- citement of imagination and nerves set down as vital godli- ness ; for 1 believe that this often leads to false and fatal security, and under its influence many suppose they are safe, and have a name to live, whilst they are really dead. We are too apt to take the work of conversion out of God's hands, and attribute 't to His creatures, forgetting that no man can see truel^rht unless the Holy Spirit shine into his heart, — that thougli Paul may plant, and ApoUos water, God alone can give the increase. I believe it our duty to pray earnestly to God to send forth labourers into His har- vest, and to receive as His gift the minister His providence places over us ; to hearken to his teachings as far as they are fa. tl* fully drawn from the Word of God, not cavilling at his fleshly imperfections of speech, or despising him be- cause of his inferiority in point of appearance, manner, talent, &c., to others that God has seen fit to endow with more showy and attractive gifts. Do you not think, my friends, that if, instead of finding fault with our minister, we were to pray earnestly for him and for ourselves, both would be better off? Those we pray much for we are drawn towards in love and compassion. And this in itself is a blessing, for it is charity, the most excellent of gifts." Many and m.any a conversation of this kind was held, and yet little in the way of good result appeared. Still Mr O'Brien worked on, and prayed on, and left the issue with God. Moira had for some time been engaged teaching. The proposal to do so had been made to her by the wife of one 114 ys. A CLEARING OF THE CLOUDS. it, nor mere ex- n as vital godli- false and fatal ippose they are are really dead, on out of God's [fitting that no t shine into his ApoUos water, it our duty to s into His har- His providence as far as they I, not cavilling pising him be- ance, manner, to endow witli not think, my I our minister, for ourselves, much for we And this in 5t excellent of ind was held, 'ed. Still Mr he issue with iching. The e wife of one / of the settlers living near them. This person had several children old enough to attend school, but unfortunately there was no school of any kind near enough to send them to. Moira consulted her mother, and expressed her own willingness to undertake the charge, if it were approved of by her parents. This was while Mr O'Brien was from home, but Mrs O'Brien seeing no objection to it, and their means much needing a little increase, it was arranged that Moira should teach a class of young people in their neigh- bour's house, and she had for some time been doing so. She found the children at first somewhat unmanageable. Young as they were, they asserted a right of doing as they pleased, and kicked against control. But fortunately for Moira, and for the children also, Mrs Duiming, the lady of the house, supported her authority, and insisted on order and obedience from all attending the class. Moira's plan was very similar to that pursued at the Sabbath-school. Religious instruction, of course, held the first place ; then, according to the ability of the pupil, geography, grammar, &c., &c., were added. Writing was carefully taught, and the children made familiar with the early rules of arith- metic. Moira's voice was a particularly sweet one, and her singing of hymns delighted the children ; so she proposed, as a reward of industry and obedience, to teach a little vocal music ; and this proved the nursery in which many young voices were trained for the sweet choir which, in after years, led the congregation, and so greatly added to the enjoyment of public worship. The young teacher's work prospered. It was undertaken with prayer, and in reliance on the guidance and blessing IIS Lii Ml i;r 11 life 1^' .iiiiiiii; A CLEARING OF THE CLOUDS. of God. Mrs O'Brien sometimes took her daugliter's place, so as to allow the young girl a little rest ; and she felt most thankful to witness the happy results of her chiUVg labours. Dora had gradually glided into Moira's place in the household ; and Maud was in useful training. George Forrester had written to his mother repeatedly, but received no replies ; and Mr O'Brien could give him no information either, as his letters to Mrs Forrester had not been answered. It was probable that they had bcou intercepted with those he sent to Canada. George now thought of returning home, and Mr O'Brien encouraged him to do so, thinking it his duty. George would have gone before, but for the want of means to meet the expenses of the journey ; and he had positively de- clined accepting a loan from purses that he knew to be already too light for the wants of the family. But as Mr O'Brien had insisted on his receiving the usual wages of the country for his services, and he ho 1 been very prudent in his outlay, he had now enough of money saved to carry him across the Atlantic at least. So it was settled that, as soon as the hay crop was in, the young man should set out. This resolution had cost George Forrester much pain, sincere as his anxiety was to see and comfort his mother. He was affectionately attached to his friend Darcy, and each of the family ; but there was one feeling far stronger than the rest, and although he had never given distinct expression to it, there was not much difficulty in dis- covering it, — and certainly Moira seemed to understand it ; and to her, poor girl, the departure for England ii6 ':>s. laiigliter's placp, ; and she felt s of her cliilii's 's place iu the >g. ler repeatedly^ oiilil give him Forrester had tliey had been nd Mr O'Brien duty. George means to meet positively de- e knew to be y- But as Mr isual -wages of very prudent 3aved to carry ' settled that, m should set ir much pain, t his mother. I^arcy, and far stronger ven distinct -^Ity in dis- understand 5r England A CLEARING OF THE CLOUDS. Mas no small trial ; yet she urged it, believing it to be duty. Mr O'Brien and Darcy went some part of the way with Forrester, and before they parted he made a simph-, manly declaration of his love for Moira, and asked per- mission to regard himself as accepted by her parents, saying that he had had a promise from Moira depending on this. Mr O'Brien and his son did not feign surprise, nor feel any reluctance to comply with his request, except on the grounds of the uncertainty of his return, and the possilnlity of his mother objecting, neither of which he would think of; but it was agreed that he and Darcy should, exchange letters as often as they felt so disposed, and that he should state frankly what his mother's wishes were ; and so they parted, commending each other to God's safe keeping. Father and son were soon home again, and with Moira Mr O'Brien had some loving, eaniest conversation. He told her of all Forrester had said, adding affectionately, " My child, I should be glad to intrust him with you, if such were God's will, as I believe him to have the love of the Lord Jesus in his heart. This, I conceive, is incom- parably the best recommendation ; and, besides, I think him a fine amiable young fellow, of frank generous nature and good temper — a grand requisite for happiness. He is industrious and reasonable too ; so that I cannot see how we could object. All this your mother and I thought of long since ; and had we not had so much reason to be pleased with him, you should have been spared the trial which constant association with him exposed you to, as we 117 ii-iill A CLEARING OF THE CLOUDS. \t '? i conceive no parent is justified in exposing his children to close intimacies which are not likely to tend to their happiness. However, even with our approval, you must not expect to escape many anxious feelings. A wide dis- tance will separate you, and hindrances may exist or arise which we know nothing of ; but, my dear child, carry this important matter to your heavenly Father, and leave it in His keeping ; He careth for you, and will order all things for your good. Your mother tells me that you have been perfectly candid with her, and I am very glad of it. Full confidence in a prudent mother is a wonderful safeguard to a child, and we all know how capable yours is of guid- ing her children, and what a true and tender friend she has ever been to them." Tliis communication of her father's, in manner as well as substance, greatly comforted Moira, and she continued her usual routine of daily duties without flagging ; indeed, her new trial brought her closer to God, and consec[uently more conscientious in all she did. Maud always accompanied her to the schoolroom, and took her lessons with the other pupils, so that Mrs O'Brien had the comfort of knowing that the little girl's education was carefully attended to. At home they had evening readings, which drew in the sons, and gave home an addi- tional charm ; but Edgar's taste for the water, and all maritime matters, was a source of anxiety to his parents. They did not see how it could be encouraged with pru- dence. On the magnificent lake, close to which their home lay, there were many schooners, but the trade was as yet very limited, and objectionable in many respects. ii8 I :!'Mi A CLEARING OF THE CLOUDS. The class of sailors employed were, generally speaking, wild, reckless young fellows, uninfluenced by a serious thought, and very undesirable companions for Edgar. Still the lad evidently yearned for a seafaring life, and it did not seem to his parents right to push their own prejudices too far, and so provoke disobedience ; but they reasoned much and affectionately with him, and he apparently yielded. However, after months of industry on the farm, he confessed to Darcy that he longed as much as ever to be a sailor. In this difliculty, Mr O'Brien thought of writing to a naval officer he had known well in Ireland, and whom he ascer- tained through the newspapers had now the command of a vessel lying in the port of Quebec. He asked his advice, telling him truly all that was necessary for him to know of the lad. In a very short time he had a most kind reply from this friend, advising him by no means to thwart the boy, when he had reason to think there was a strong and abiding preference developed. " You know," he said, " that ours is a lawful service, and may be engaged in without any departure from Christian principle ; and if your son's mind be strongly imbued with a love for it, we may hope that in such a calling he will be preserved from evil as effectually as in any other. If you think it well to follow this matter up, I can give him a berth on board — an humble one, 'tis true — but it will place him much under my own eye, and if his conduct merits promotion, the first step will prove no hindrance to others ; but he must be prepared for the most implicit submission to rather strict discipline, and pretty hard work." This letter required the deepest consideration. The offer 119 Hi; SI p* ■ "I A CLEARING OF THE CLOUDS. was a very kind one, but was it such as they should accept for their son ? They took counsel together, and together sought counsel from the Source of all wisdom. The matter was talked over with Darcy and Moira, and finally it was deemed expedient to make Edgar acquainted with it. It excited in his mind the most enthusiastic delight and brightest anticipations, only tempered by his regret at separation from his family. So, after a few more letters had passed between Mr O'Brien and his naval friend, it was decided to send Edgar to Quebec, to be taken on board the British man-of-war lying there, under Captain C 's command. All the arrangements must be speedily accomplished, and every female hand in the house was busy for a couple of weeks. Then came the parting, and sad days of loneliness on both sides. The first letter from Edgar mentioned many things new and agreeable to him, and also told of a large amount of occupation to which the strictest attention was required from him. This was no unacceptable news to his parents ; they had great faith in useful employment as a safeguard to youth, and prayed that he might be rendered upright in the conscientious discharge of his duties. Letters also came from George Forrester, full of affection and gratitude, but mentioning what made them all sad for him. On his arrival in England he at once set out for his old home, but found it desolate. None of his friends lived near ; but from the people in the neighbourhood he ascer- tained that Mrs Forrester — wlio, as he knew, had been for years in failing health — had quite sunk under the shock conveyed to her through the papers regarding the efforts 1 20 Bir, llll'li' I m I A CLEARING OF THE CLOUDS. liould accept and together The matter finally it was with it. It delight and lis regret at more letters v^al friend, it 36 taken on ider Captain t be speedily e house was parting, and y things new ge amount of yas required his parents ; 5 a safeguard id upright in 1 of affection m all sad for it out for his friends lived od he ascer- bad been for r the shock ' the efforts I being made to arrest her son on the charge of murder. This seemed to account for the neglect of his letters ; but he liad hurried to London, to see some relatives of his fathei*'s, and ascertain, if possible, more minute particulars of her death, and of his own prospects of the means of support. He was received with the greatest astonishment, and cer- tainly no show of affection. On inL[uiring as to property, he was coldly repulsed, and left the house, resolved to ob- tain information from some other quarter, rather than again intrude on such heartless relations. Accordingly, he called on the lawyer through whom he knew his mother had trans- acted her business, and from him he heard that his aunt — the lady on whom he had called — had been put in possession of his mother's little property, as the nearest of kin ; but that doubtless it could, with some trouble, be recovered by the real heir. " At the same time," poor Forrester said, " the man looked at me very suspiciously. When we had last met I was but a boy of twelve or fourteen, and little like the weather- beaten, shabby-looking fellow I am now. Besides, he must have had his doubts as to my moral character, as the charge of murder still hung over me ; and for this reason, my dear sir, I must ask you to intrust me with the document you hold signed by poor M , and any other papers you think would help to re-establish my character. I am wretchedly forlorn here, — a perfect outcast, — and longing with all my heart to be back amongst my Canadian friends, by whom I trust I am remembered with affection." The papers were sent immediately, and a recommenda- tion with them to cross over and see the M family, and draw from them an acknowledgment of their son's i'i; 'i; 111 121 Q 1 mm A CLEARING OF THE CLOUDS. escape from the watery grave which it was supposed he had found. There was then a long pause, and a very trying one to Moira j but at length came a joyous letter, saying that all had been set right, and a few days from that date he hoped to be crossing the Atlantic once more, on his way to " The New Home," and the dear one he so greatly desired to place in it. This was great joy, and the cause of much gratitude. A few weeks more brought about a happy meeting ; and then Forrester told his bride-elect that she must choose her home, as he had abundance of means to purchase, and only waited for her selection. There was, of course, a family consultation ; and a lovely spot was chosen on the Maitland Kiver, not very far from her father's. This farm had been advertised for sale for some time, and was easily obtained ; a cottage built on it with as little delay as possible ; and then a wedding, and a bride brought home, rich in the blessings of all she loved. Her little pupils grieved to lose her as their teacher, but found her an affectionate friend, ever glad to see them, and ready to aid them in any way she could. \ % \m: 5posed he liad [trying one to saying that all [date he hoped way to "The [tly desired to gratitude. A iing ; and then st choose her hase, and only urse, a family the Maitland farm had been sily obtained ; iible ; and then 1 the blessings to lose her as e friend, ever w^ay she could. f CHAPTER XI. |i ^Ijuhing of ll^e grii goncs. " Largely Thou givest, gracious Lord, Largely Thy gifts should be restored ; rreely Thou givest, and Thy word Is ' freely give : ' He only who forgets to hoard Has learned to live. "— AVi/,? . UMMEE, was ende<} ; harvest-time, with all its important labours, past ; and once more the winter must be prepared for. Through God's blessing, the fields had yielded abundantly, and there was a goodly store packed safely away in the barns of each of the settlers. Mr O'Brien thought this would therefore be a good time for bringing forward a project which lie and his family had long thought of, with much desire for its ac» complishment. Hitherto the neighbourhood had been dependent for divine service on the occasional, and indeed rare, visits of a travelling missionary, who held his meetings in a miserable old school- room, no place of public worship having been as yet 123 '111 ^ iS lif' ■ ^ iM I lit. ■ .a ^! '1. %■ ^ ■i/l:: m m jllif !'!IIH ■1*1 A S/rAJC/yG OF THE DRY BONES. \ %\ M li i! erected. This seemed to the O'Briens a lamentable state of things, and they determined, if possible, to have it remedied. So they requested the missionary, on the occa- sion of his next visit, to announce a meeting for the follow- ing week, to take into consideration the necessity for building a house of worship, and securing more frequent, if not constant, attendance of a minister. This announce- ment seemed to startle the congregation. They had so long iinresistingly yielded to the old scanty supply, that now they could hardly see any occasion for larger religious privileges, and especially when they thought that such could not be secured without some sacrifice of time and money. However, the meeting was held, and curiosity, if no better motive, drew many to the appointed place. Mr O'Brien wished some of the older settlers to open the pro- ceedings, but all declined, and seemed to think the move- ment rested with him. So, with a few humble, earnest words of prayer for guidance and a right spirit, he stood before them to plead with them for that which they should have long since accomplished. He said, for his own part, lie felt it a grief and shame to expend the bounties the Lord had bestowed on him on his own selfish wants, whilst the public acknowledgment of these bounties was so little thought of ; and he greatly desired the honour of dedicat- ing to God's service a portion of all he had, and he would ask his neighbours to do likewise. There were many whispered consultations, and evidently much dissatisfac- tion, expressed in an undertone, for some tune ; till Mr O'Brien once more requested them to state their views, and appealed particularly to one of the oldest and wealthiest 124 A SHAKIXG OF THE DRV BONES. iS men in the township for aid. This old man, whose laLour-s God had for many years crowned with success, causing hi:* cattle to increase, and his barns to run over with plenty, stood up, and began by " regretting he had been selected to speak for the others, as he didn't feel much up to it ; but there was a thing or two he would say, and them was — that folks around all knew he had worked hard for what he had, and his boys and girls had done their share ; and now he thought it was about time he had a little ease and enjoyment of his earnings ; and he didn't see why they mightn't be content to leave things as they were. Hii didn't like changes ; but to be sure, he didn't mean to speak against improvements on their land. How would tlie country get on without that? But then, ye see, if we're not careful of our pennies, we'll have no pounds to spend on the helpful things which we would all be glad to see coming into the country. A new breed of cattle would be a grand consideration, but they were costly articles ; and then some of the late improvements on their tools, and tilings for doing work up a little quicker, — all them was desirable, and no mistake ; and, therefore, for his part, he thought the best thing they could do for the country was to spend money on their land, and try to get up a name for the country ; and" Here he sat down. Mr O'Brien was greatly sliocked, and especially as he saw that this worldly, selfish speech had given much satis- faction to most of those present. " Oh ! " thought he, "truly the Lord is long-suffering, and of great mercy, to bear with His rebellious children so long, and still to pour out bene- fits upon them." 125 : II ■: m\ iii) i "li Jl I m\ iiiliis: I A SHAKING OF THE DRY BONES. Once more he rose, and asked to be permitted to speak. This was readily granted. All appeared to find more in- terest in the proceedings since their neighbour had so clearly expressed their own views, and no thought of his arguments being set aside entered their minds. But Mr O'Brien had weapons to use they knew not of ; and, with prayer for skill, he detemiined to use them manfully. He thought it well to take the old farmer's speech as headings to his arguments, and so began : — " I am sorry, sir, you regret being called upon to speak for God's cause. It is an honour we should be very thank- ful for. The apostles of old rejoiced at being thought worthy of suffering for their blessed Master. We are only called upon to do a happy and easy work for Him ; that is, to bring forth the gold and silver which He has intrusted us with the care of, and to expend it on a building in which we may meet to praise and pray, and obtain great blessings. You say all your neighbours well know how industriously yourself and your family have laboured for what you now possess. May I ask what your possessions would be if God had not blessed your labours ? It is true, you ploughed the ground that God's providence bestowed on you ; you sowed it, planted and cared for it diligently ; but who gave the increase ? Who caused the grass to grow, the seed to spring up and bear fruit ? Who gave the early and the latter rains ; and sent the springs into the valleys to give drink to every beast of the field ? Who appointed the sun to shed his fertilising light and heat ? Who bindeth the floods from overflowing, and stayeth the biting frost from blighting, and the scorching heat from utterly con- 126 . A SHAKING OF THE DRY BONES, 3cl to speak. id more in- t)our had so [)ught of liis is. But Mr ; and, with |infully. He as headings f)on to speak ! very thank- ing thought We are only lim ; that is, las intrusted I building in obtain great 1 know how laboured for r possessions ? It is true, ice bestowed t diligently ; rass to grow, ive the early > the valleys 10 appointed Nlio bindeth biting frost utterly con- suming ? Who giveth health and strength, sight and skill, to the husbandman ? In fact, what is man without God's mercy ? What are all his labours without God's blessing ? And yet you say, you see no need of change, no call to arise from the deadness and darkness in which you have hitherto been content to lie. You acknowledge no claim on your money, your time, your heart, and strength, ex- cept that of yourself, your family, and your land. You heap up riches to secure ease in your latter days, and to establish your children in plenty. But what secures these riches to you ? Remember, they are but lent by Him to whom the whole world belongs ; and He may at any moment withdraw them ; and He will leave you to find them a curse, instead of a blessing, if you forget the Giver, and refuse to honour Him with your substance. You are stewards. God is your Master ; and He will surely call you to account for the use you have made of the things committed to your keeping ; and eternal misery must be the lot of the unfaithful servant who sinks into his grave unrepentant and unforgiven. Oh ! my friends, the end is at hand. Let us work while it is yet possible, lest the night of death overtake us in our unpardoned sins. There is, in God's providence, a work to be done amongst us. Let us do it heartily, without grudging ; or fear that the order will go forth — * Bind him hand and foot, and cast him into outer darkness.' " Mr O'Brien sat down, and, •with bent head and humbled heart, prayed that whatever truth he had spoken might bear fruit, and his failure in wisdom might be forgiven. Near him sat a poor man, whose life had been one of ex- 127 m.\ ll! i: I 11PI»' I ill A SHAKING OF THE DRV BONES. treme toil ; his family was large, but had enjoyed little health. Fever and ague had held them down in languisli- ing suffering season after season. He had to hear the burden of their support almost alone, but was uncomplain- ing, and rarely looked for aid from his neighbours, who thought him " unluchj, and wondered how it was that he didn't do better," without considering or inquiring into his many difficulties. Another source of their wonder was, " how he could take his troubles so easy ; " but this was a secret which they could not understand, even if it had been explained to them. " His ear had been opened to discipline." He had felt himself vile, and laid his hand on his mouth. Yet he cried unto the Lord, and was heard, though his burden was not at once removed. Poverty and sickness were still laid upon him ; but his soul said, " I have received good at the hands of the Lord, and shall I not receive evil?" It said, too, " Though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him." So there was light in the midst of darkness, and joy in the depths of sorrow. This poor man now timidly came forward, and laid on the table one dollar. There were incredulous looks, con- temptuous looks, looks of condenmation. Some censured him for his presumption in giving whilst they withheld. Some accused him of hypocrisy, pretending to care for what could not really interest him, who had so much be- sides to worry him. All thought him forward and upset- ting, for taking on himself to set them an example, and whispered loud enough for him to hear, that " it would be better to keep starvation out of door with that same dollar, and to leave his betters to manage matters that he had no 128 i A SHAKING OF THE DRY BONES. b'oyea little n languish. ■o bear tlie hncomplain- ^iboiirs, wlio ^vas tliat lie ■ing into his ontler was, t this was a 'n if it liad opened to M iiis liand it was heard, 'overty and >ul said, " I and shall I slay nie, yet :he midst of and laid on looks, con- le censured r withlield. to care for • much be- and upset- imple, and '• would be me dollar, he had no right to meddle with." But he felt his right. He thought of the widow's mite, and her Master's commendation ; and he let the cruel remark pass unheeded. Mr O'Brien looked brightly at his poor brother, and said, " I am thankful you have had the honour of first put- ting into the Lord's treasury, and I am glad to follow you." Here he laid down his offering, which was large enough to surprise and mortify others, who cared not to give, yet in the pride of their hearts did not choose to have it said that they did less than others. Gradually, from one motive and another, the little fund swelled ; and as it grew late, it was proposed to hold another meeting, to decide on the site, plan, &c., of the new church. George Forrester had throughout stood firmly by hia father-in-law, and gratified him by his liberality. Ji '1' 1 CHAPTER XII. ^rigi^t out of ^srhncss. " Therefore !n life I HI trust to Thee^ In death I will adore ; And after death will sing Thy praise. When time shall be no more. " P much had "been gained, and Mr O'Brien and his family thanked God for it, and prayed Him still more to prosper the work. A few days after the meeting, Mrs O'Brien and Dora set out on a visit to the first subscribers to- wards the new church. They found them living in a small log-shanty on the edge of a low beaver meadow. The piece of clear land had induced them to select the spot; but it was a very injudicious choice, as for a great part of the year the flats were covered with stagnant water, and consequently there was much miasma to produce ague. Mr O'Brien had never been in the place. It lay on a back con- cession, and he had not heard anything of the cir- 130 , M liii LIGHT OUT OF DARKNESS. Mr O'Brien I for it, and •er the work. O'Brien and ibscribers te- em living in low beaver nduced them ' injudicious he flats were uently there Mr O'Brien a back con- J of the cir- cumstances of the poor settler ; but the acquaintance, once begun by his wife and daughter, was cordially followed up, and produced many happy results to both families, for a godly friendship is rich in blessings. "Ointment and perfume rejoice the heart ; so doth the sweetness of a man's friend by hearty counsel ; " and as " iron sharpeneth iron, so a man sharpeneth the countenance of his friend." "Faitliful are the wounds of a friend; but the kisses of an enemy are deceitful." Mrs O'Brien found the house crowded with sickly, haggard faces. The mother was in bed, very ill. The debility pro- duced by repeated attacks of fever and ague had deprived her of the use of her limbs ; and she lay on a bed of lan- guishing, witnessing the many wants of her family without being able to relieve them. Her eldest daughter, an over- grown slender girl, looked as if her constitution was quite undermined ; walking across the room made her flush and gasp. All the others (six in number) seemed to have suf- fered more or less from the swamp fever, as they called it ; but still they lingered on in the unhealthy spot, not having means to build a shanty elsewhere, and shrinking from any application to their neighbours, who should have come to their aid unasked. On Mrs O'Brien's return home, she made her husband acquainted with the melancholy sight she had witnessed ; and spoke of the gentle submission of the poor mother, and the trembling gratitude with which she had accepted a little help ; but " more, much more, must be done for the poor people, else they will die in that swamp." "Yes," said Mr O'Brien, "we must lose no time in 131 LIGHT OUT OF DARKNESS. coming to their rescue. Do you think we could manage to take them all out of that terrible place at once ? I sup. pose the Forresters can take some of them, and the others can come here ; and I will see about getting up a log-house for them on a higher part of their little farm." It was so arranged. Moira and her husband gladly entered into the views of the O'Briens ; and as their house was a better and much larger one than their father's, they insisted on taking the greater number in. When all had found shelter, Mr O'Brien went to a few of the wealthier neighbours, stated the facts, and asked their help in putting up the shanty. This they promised freely ; indeed, the Canadian settler is rarely backward in complying with any request of the kind. As it was late in the season, all wished to begin the work without delay. Mr O'Brien and his son's skill as carpenters, proved very valuable. They all worked with good will, and in a fortnight there was a little clearance made on a dry, elevated part of the land, and a good-sized log-house put up. Many hands made light work ; and it was a gay, pleasant time to all. When the house was thought habit- able, the father (James Duff), and those of his children who seemed strongest, were allowed to take possession ; but Mrs Duff, and two or three of the sickliest of her family, were still kept by their kind friends ; and this considerate liberality quite stirred up a wholesome emula- tion in the neighbourhood, so that many useful articles were spared to the suffering family. A nice little store of provisions for the winter was sent in, and clothes were 132 ( 1 BUpl ing| one It > H/'il could manage once? I sup. and the others up a log-house » ;o the views of ter and much on taking the went to a few ts, and asked hey promised ■ backward in ^s it was late ithout delay, nters, proved nil, and in a e on a dry, 3g-house put was a gay, ought habit- his children possession ; liest of her 3 ; and this ome emula- ful articles ttle store of iothes were LIGHT OUT OF DARKNESS. supplied for all ; and hence there was great comfort in see- ing the scattered members gathered imder their own roof once more. Nothing could exceed their gratitude. The first time that divine service was held after their new dwelling had been taken possession of, the whole family attended, — many of them, it is true, still very feeble ; but the parents were unwilling to leave any be- hind, — all must appear in God's presence publicly, to acknowledge His benefits. And the minister, who had heen informed of the circumstances, made their happy rescue a subject of general thanksgiving. Nor were the benefits of these acts of kindness confined to the Duff family. Those whose hearts were moved with compassion towards them, felt softened by the kindly effort, and more disposed to open their stores, and exert themselves for the benefit of their fellow-creatures in future. So much for holy example and precept. So much for prayer and patience. There was certainly a stirring amongst the dry bones ; and though all gave, none felt the poorer, — on the contrary, as a bluff outspoken old man said, " I believe charity is a bush that bears thorns for 6uch as don't cultivate it, but roses for those that do." s ;■ 1 ( . 1;/ CHAPTER XIII. Ilefco g^rribuls. " Work of all kinds is kingly, if men only know how to do it well. The pride that despises it is begj^arly. " HOPPING, loggin<^, hard work, and cold weather were outside the order of the day. Within, no lack of business either. Thrifty housekeepers time their work well, and each occupation falls into its proper place. Biddy was a good manager, and found hours for her clever knit- ting and spinning. Most comfortable and durable Bocks grew rapidly under her fingers ; and she was highly pleased to find the ladies prizing the stock- ings she had made for them. But in a private corner lay her best performance with the wheel and needles. Several pairs of very superior mittens, socks, and a comforter or two, were laid by carefully for her favourite, Edgar ; and great was her joy 134 ■. ! I'i do it well. c, and cold r of the day. ler. Thrifty Ij and each Biddy was a clever knit- lud durable md she was g the stock- 1 a private 2 wheel and or iiiittens, )y carefully as her joy N£W ARRIVALS. •when told that a visit was expected from him before long. His ship had been cruising along the coast, and round the Gulf, but was now under orders for Europe, and the Cana- dian youths were permitted to pay farewell visits to their friends. So Master Edgar came in good time to enjoy his cosy woollen treasures, and great was his admiration of Biddy's skill. He praised her dyeing, — the bright reds, blues, and yellows that she was so proud of, — and he told her many wonderful things of his little voyages. "But, Biddy, can you guess whom I met on the St Lawrence % Somebody who was not very gallant to you » once. Biddy blushed, as she said, " Oh, Master Edgar, don't be reminding me of what I forgave and forgot long ago. It 's the captain you mean, I 'm sure. Then, did you see him ? and what was he like ] I hope our little darlin's teaching wasn't lost on him. Could you find out at all, sir, whether he remembered the blessed child ?" " Yes, Biddy, he was the first to speak of him ; and, would you believe it, his eyes filled with tears as he talked over what the little fellow said to him. J never heard so much of it before. It was wonderful for such a young- ster." " Ah ! young or old, he was nothing but an angel. At least, God was making him one fast, for the little while we had him ; and now he is a perfect one in heaven. Tell me more of the poor captain, sir, if you please." " Well, Biddy, I have not much more to tell. "We met his vessel in the river, and the young doctor was with him again. He had moved about a good deal since we knew 135 \ NEW ARRIVALS, I- p i. ■-* 1. -t. f. him, but when the captain met him at Quehec, and asked him to make another trip with him, hfe took him at his word ; so I met them together, and after they had asked a hundred questions about all of us, you. amongst the rest, they said we need not be surprised to see them in Goderich some day before long ; and I fancy their visit will be in the winter, while the ship is laid up. She is not to make another trip till summer. In her last she was late, and fell in with an iceberg, which knocked a hole in her side ; so she is to be patched, and her master will have Idle time on his hands. I hope, if they do come, father will make them welcome." " Ah ! thin now, Master Edgar, don't you know weU enough that he will ? Isn't he always one to do good to his enemies, and love them that despitefully use him ? " " Biddy ! I thought you had forgotten all about his spite." " Yes, and so I have, though I just remember it when I *m not thinkin' of it. But what if I do bring it back ? Sure you don't think I want revenge, unless it's just the sort the mistress showed when she nursed and cared for the woman that said such lies of the family? No, no, Master Edgar, I 'd be a dunce if I didn't know better by this time, after all the examples I have before me. And you may tell, the same captain, if ever you see him again, that I love my enemies ; only I have none to love." " Well done, Biddy, I '11 be sure to tell the captain you love him ; " and so saying, the merry lad closed the con- versation with Biddy. Edgar's parents saw nothing in their son to make them 136 Ci and asked tiiu at his tad asked a igst the rest, ID Goderich Lt will be in not to make ate, and fell her side; so idle time on I make them know well good to his im ? " U about his iber it when ng it back ? it's just the and cared Dily? No, know better before me. ou see him le to love." aptain you d the con- nake them N£IV ARRIVALS. regret having permitted him the indulgence of his strong bias, and the letter he brought from their friend. Captain C i was in every respect satisfactory ; so that it was only the unavoidable separation which made them think with sorrow of his choice of occupation. He epent a few weeks with, them; and before he left, to his great amuse- ment, Captain Kurtz and young Dr Baynes walked in. They said they came to see the country and their friends, and they were so cordially welcomed, that their stay was prolonged from day to day. Indeed, Dr Baynes began to think he might do worse than try for practice in Goderich and its neighbourhood, and the captain asked many ques- tions as to the trade on Lake Huron. A plain statement of facts was given them, and both seemed inclined to pay another visit at least. Mr and Mrs O'Brien were greatly pleased to perceive a very marked change in Captain Kurtz; and Dr Baynes assured them that he was altogether a different man, " and he always says he owes the change to 'blessed little Willie ;' and, my dear sir, I hope Captain Kurtz is not the only one that listened to Willie's holy words and remembers them. I thank God I ever met the child ; he taught me more than ever I knew before, and I hope to meet him again. I think I must tell you how it was that I fell in with Captain Kurtz again at Quebec. I had been trying different places, but failed in getting practice to suit me, and went back to the city. One day I had walked out to see the little green grave you know of ; and whom should I see there but the captain. He was kneeling on the sod planting some fresh tufts of primroses and violets on Wiilie's 137 K ' NEW ARRIVALS. ' ~l m. M I/' gmve. He had brought them from Ireland on purpose, because he had heard the child speak of them with delight. From that hour my heart warmed towards the rough man ; and when he proposed my making another trip with him, I could not refuse. But, pray sir, do not let him suppose that I have mentioned anything of this to you. He is, with all his roughness, really shy. Just fancy his being quite afraid of your Biddy. He cannot believe that she forgives him for his misbehaviour towards her, but I heard Edgar telling him to * try,' and saying a lot of nonsense besides on the subject." The little incident the doctor had related concerning Willie's grave, touched the parents to the heart, and they longed to thank the captain ; but the doctor's request for silence prevented it. However, they all the more wislied and urged a continuance of the visit ; but when pressing Captain Kurtz to stay, he said — " I tell you what, my friend, if I had not been a fool I should have gone long ago." So surprised was Mr O'Brien at this strange speech, that he asked some explanation of it, and to his far greater astonishment heard the reply. " Well," said Captain Kurtz, " I was plain enough in show- ing my hatred to her once, and now, maybe, I shouldn't be ashamed of letting my love be known ; but somehow I 'm daunted. Do you think, sir, she forgives me ? " " Who forgives ? Of whom do you speak ?" "Oh, Mr O'Brien, I forgot I had not mentioned her name. You see, I 'm a little ashamed to talk of her. Well, I mean your girl, Biddy i I once treated her like a brute, 138 N£IF ARRIVALS. wl on purpose, m with delight. ;he rough man; trip with him, it him suppose 3 you. He is, ancy his being Jlieve that she er, but I heard ot of nonsense ed concerning eart, and they 3r's request for J more wislied when pressing been a fool I je speech, that is far greater ough in show- [ shouldn't be omehow I'm entioned her )fher. Well, like a brute, J as I then was ; but ever since, I can't tell why, she often comes into my mind, and I 'd be glad to get her to think well of me ; but whenever I begin to talk to her, I think of the rope's end, and get afraid to go on, and more like shutting myself up in the hold for the rest of my days. Your mad-cap son gave me a little courage by something he said, but I believe it 's all gone now ; so I think I '11 be off, for I can't well stand seeing her, and knowing I 've no chance." " Then," said Mr O'Brien, " you have not asked the girl yet?" " No ; I wish I had, so as to get out of the scrape one way or other j but it 's no use trying ; do you think it is ? " Mr O'Brien smiled and said he felt inclined to second Edgar's advice, to " try ;" but he would prefer consulting with his wife before he gave any opinion. The consultation was held ; and as soon as her husband left her, Mrs O'Brien called in Biddy. To her she told what the captain had said, and asked the girl plainly if the offer of marriage were to be made, what she would be inclined to say ? Poor Biddy's confusion prevented her speaking for some minutes, and she gradually withdrew quite behind her mistress's back before she could utter a word, and then even her tongue seemed to refuse its usual office. " Ma'am, dear, isn't he a good man ? Doesn't he love the child ? An' shure, meself forgives him intirely ; but he 'a too good for the likes of me — an' what would the family do ? An' I 'm only a poor servant girl — an' I don't know what to say at all at all, only just that I '11 be sorry for him '39 li , f , I s f^ii) NEJV ARRIVALS. when lie goes. Sliure, it 's all Mastlier Edgar's fault for putting it into my head, and talking such a lot of the captain's goodness." Mrs O'Brien had waited in patience and silence whilst sentence after sentence came forth at rather long intervals. She was most anxious to fathom Biddy's real feelings, and now she thought she imderstood them pretty well, and might venture to encourage the captain to " try." This her husband undertook to do, and before very long it was evident that the old sailor was getting over his fears of Biddy ; indeed, in a day or two, he broached the subject himself with Mrs O'Brien, by thanking her for giving him " the chance," and saying that, after all, though he knew he was only a weather-beaten old hulk, the girl didn't despise him, and all was right between them. He went on to say then, in a more methodical way, that as he hoped to have a snug little property when he settled up, he intended to come back and buy a farm near them, as Biddy could not bear to think of parting from all her friends, and he felt as if it was about time for him to settle down. And so it was arranged ; Mrs O'Brien considerately setting Biddy's hands quite free for her preparations, in which the whole family aided her, and engaging two of the young Duffs to fill her place. Captain Kurtz made it a request that Dora would give him a list, and not a short one, he said, of all that she thought the lassie would fancy, only just to leave the choice of the wedding-go'wn to himself, and he would try to please her. This kind offer was very gratifying to Mrs O'Brien, as a proof of considerate liberality ; and she allowed her daughter 140 ir's fault for lot of the plence wliilst |ng intervals. feelings, and fy well, and » • re very long ver his fears I the subject • giving him gh he knew girl didn't He went on he hoped to he intended Biddy could nds, and he i^. And so ing Biddy's 1 the whole ng Duffs to t that Dora said, of all ist to leave i he would 3rien, as a r daughter 1 NEIV ARRIVALS. to supply a list of such articles as she thought would be useful and suitable to Biddy's new position. Under the circumstances, this did not appear indelicate ; and it left Biddy's wages as a little pocket-money, to be disposed of as she pleased. There was a great deal of merry but affectionate con- gratulation ; and the idea of Mrs Kurtz living near them reconciled the young people in a great measure to the par- tial separation. Murty had been for a time dubious and reluctant regard- ing the step proposed, but his master's high opinion of the captain, and a gradually received belief that Biddy regally did like him, made him think better of it ; so he consented, after sundry shy manoeuvres, to be measured for " a bran- new suit of clothes from top to toe ; an' a hat, an' long boots, and gloves, if ye plase, was all to come home along with the suit from Montreal. An' Murty was to be on the look-out for a first-rate fann, and lots of things, for cakes and things was to come home with the captain ; and they were to be rale respectable, and to have a great feast ; and, shure, I 'm going to do the biggest half of it all meself, and not lave the poor dear misthress and the ladies to work for me." Such was Biddy's summary of the preparations ; and it was with difficulty she was moderated in her efforts to carry out her intentions literally. But there was a secret she never told any one but Murty, for " what for should she be after talking of the things that she sent for, for every livin' soul of the family ? Wasn't the silk gown for the mistliress, an' the big books for the masther to leave down 141 ( M NEIV ARRIVALS, in the new church, and the muslins and sashes for the young ladies, and the tool-chest for Masther Darcy ] and I won't tell ye what for Miss Moira, that 's Mrs Forrester now. An* all them things is down in the captain's pocket-book; an' I know they '11 come, for he 's not one to break his word. I tell ye, Murty, she 's the lucky girl that gets him, for the roughness is all wore off, and it would be surprisin' to you if I 'd tell you how rale good he is." " Thin, now, Biddy, I 'm all of a puzzle to see how you can think so well of the captain just of a sudden. Shure, it 's not more nor a month since he came here, an' afore that it 's not much any of us thought of him. I tell ye, I 'm afeard it's his money and the grandeur ye 're thinkin' of, an' desavin* yourself about the love ; an*, shure, we have good right to know that wouldn't be right. Didn't ye often tell me yourself, that what the masther and misthress thought most of in Mr George, when he was courtin' Miss Moira, wasn't his money at all, but the love of God that was in his heart 1 An' now, shure, Biddy, if you 're hankerin' after the gould, and forgettin' what 's betther, how in the wide world will ye ever be able to say them solemn words at the altar? "When Miss Moira was sayin' them, my heart was full, for I thought how awful like it would be if she broke her word; for, shure, it 's all the same as an oath before God and the people. Oh, Biddy, Biddy agrah, don't do it if ye can't feel ye have the truth of it in you ; and I 'm frightened for ye." Poor Bi( .dy had listened with downcast face and tearful eyes, as her brother, in his own homely way, had exhorted her faithfully to consider the vows and duties she was about 142 I It ' ! 1^ NEiy ARRIVALS. to undertake, and not to rush thoughtlessly into a position full of important duties and responsibilities. She folt the truthfulness of all he said, and looked within tt see whether her feelings could stand the test his plain worda presented ; but, after a few minutes' silence, she said, in a timid voice, " Murty dear, don't be afther doubtin' me ; indeed an' indeed, as well as ever I can find out, it isn't the money nor the grandeur I'm afther. An' shure, though it 's only a month since he came to us, wasn't I thinkin' of him many a time afore ? And when Masther Edgar used to be teasin' me, an' tellin' me a heap of things about the captain, I used to think afther all he was goin' to be the right sort ; an', as thrue as I live, the anger that I had once against him was tumin' and turnin' into — love ; an' I was glad in my heart when I heard he was comin', not for that I had the foolish notion that he 'd even himself to the likes of me, but just that I had the wish to let him see I forgave him out an' out ; an*, thin, when he was so soft- like to me, from the minit he came an* showed me such respect, an' thin hearin' the family spakin' well of him; an' thin — och, but I won't be afther telling ye any more, Murty dear ; but the beginnin' and the end of it is, that I have the feelin' to him ; an' now if ye go for to send him off from me, it 's little good ye '11 leav6 in me ; an' what for should the dacent man be desaved? An' oh, Murty, I do think of the promises and vows ; but, shure, all I can do is to ask the great God to give me the heart to keep them, for they are solemn-like, and above me intirely." And Biddy laid her head on her brother's shoulder, and wept unrestrainedly. 143 NEW ARRIVALS, I will leave my readers to welcome back the captain and doctor, and to fancy the happiness and aflfection exhibited at Biddy's wedding, and the shy delight with which the bride entered on her new duties in her own very comfort- able home. With Mr O'Brien's consent and approval, Miirty soon went to superintend the captain's farm. The old sailor's natural propensities and life-long habits unsuited him for agricultural pursuits ; and after sundry consultations, and awkward attempts at apology, he bought a vessel, and became its master, on the noble fresh-water sea beside his happy home. The young doctor settled also at some short distance from "the family," and soon gained a wide practice. By and by, it was observed that his horses often took the road to " The New Home," even when there nq& no call for their master's professional attendance. But that matter we shall leave with Miss Dora, whom it seems most to concern ; simply gratifying our readers, in taking leave of them, with the knowledge that the settlers exhibit an increasing confidence in the O'Brien family, and a greater willingness to be led by their example and precept into holier paths than the old. w>^ THB END. 1390 4 O a> j iptain and exhibited whieli the y conifort- [urty soon old sailor's ed him for ations, and iressel, and . beside his stance from By and by, id to " The jir master's shall leave m ; simply 1, with the ; confidence 3 to be led IS than the ^