iiiy i I \M\' IMP m't! i| iMto: ! illililHlSll'li '11 Frances H. Skinner, IDA NORMAN. JET IDA NORMAN; OR, TRIALS AND THEIR USES. BY MRS. LINCOLN PHELPS, PBINCIPAL OF PATAPSCO INSTITUTE: AUTHOR OP "LINCOLN'S BOTANY," "PHELPS' NATURAL PHILOSO- PHY," "CHEMISTRY," &c., "FIRESIDE FRIEND," kc. BALTIMORE: GUSHING & BROTHER. 1848. ENTERED, according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1S43, BY GUSHING & BROTHER, In the Clerk's Office, of the District Court of Maryland. JOHS D. TOY, PRINTER. DEDICATE D. BY THE AUTHOR, TO HER PUPILS, WHEREVER THEY MAY BE, AND IN WHATEVER CONDITION OF LIFE: IX THE HOPE OF A HAPPY MEETING, HEREAFTER. PREFACE. A novel by one who professes to educate the young on principles of reason and piety, may occasion some surprise. But the "Great Teacher" taught by para- bles, thereby sanctioning the use of fiction as an aux- iliary of truth. This work was commenced in the autumn of 1846, and read in parts, weekly, to the author's pupils, with the design of imparting moral instruction under a form more interesting to the young than that of didactic essays. The lively interest manifested by the audi- tors during the progress of the work, was doubtless, in a degree, the result of their partial affection for the author. Similar feelings prompted the request, in compliance with which, Ida Norman is now offered to the public, where a more severe scrutiny may await her than she met with in the Halls of Patapsco. Whatever may be thought of the interest of the work, the author is happy in the belief that it will be, Vlll PREFACE. at least, a safe companion for the young, encouraging no morbid sensibilities or sickly fancies, and pervert- ing no principles of morality ; but that its tendency, so far as it may have any influence, will be found bene- ficial to individual virtue and happiness, and the true interests of society. PATAPSCO INSTITUTE, JAN. 1848. IDA NORMAN. CHAPTER I. A DOMESTIC SCENE A POLITICIAN'S PRIVATE LEVEE. THE shutters were closed, and the rich damask curtains in ample folds, draperied the windows of the splendid saloon of a marble mansion, situated in the most fashionable part of the city of New York. A lady of delicate appearance, and seemingly of middle age, reclined on a couch of crimson vel- vet, while near her, in thoughtful mood, leaning on a table of Italian marble, sat a gentleman, apparently some years older. At a piano, on the opposite side of the apartment, a young girl was turning over the leaves of a music book, oc- casionally trying some notes of a piece, or carelessly hum- ming the air of a song. " I wish, dear Ida," said a youth, who entered the saloon by an open door in a distant part of the room and advanced toward the piano, " you would either sing or let it alone, it is so annoying to hear a person humming in that way." " Indeed, Mr. Louis," said the girl, " I do not thank you for dictating to me ; if papa and mama are satisfied with me, it is no concern of mine what you think." "Come here, my children," said the lady, in a gentle voice, " I would speak with you." They advanced, and obeying a sign from their mother, seated themselves on a low divan by her side. 2 14 IDA NORMAN. She took a hand of each, and, for some moments, seemed struggling with emotions too powerful for expression. At length she said, " Louis and Ida, how often have I spoken to you of the pain it gives me to hear you speak unkindly to each other how often have J warned you that the time might come when you would be left alone iu the world, with few to care for you or sympathize in your sorrows; and now that we are so soon to be separated our family circle broken up for years, perhaps forever, can you permit, for a moment, any feelings, but those of love and tenderness to- wards each other, to influence you ?" Louis seized his mother's hand, pressed it to his lips, then throwing his arms around his sister's neck, both sobbed, and comforted the mother's heart by their unfeigned demonstrations of regret for the past, and good resolutions for the future. The stern father, whose thoughts had been wandering amid the mazes of political intrigues, was struck by the tender scene, and laying upon the table the scroll of papers which he had held idly in his hand, approached the interesting group. "Here," said he, extending his arms and drawing the three within his embrace, " are my treasures all that this world can give me I thus clasp." There was a pause; it was one of those moments in which the heart triumphs, such as in this life ' are few and far between,' and such as, unhappily for this family, were seldom witnessed within its circle. A loud ringing at the street door broke the spell, and re- minded the father that this was the hour in which he was to receive a committee, appointed to confer with him on political affairs of moment. A cloud overspread his features : he arose and hastily leaving the room repaired to his private reception room to meet his expected visitors. Mrs. Norman sighed as her husband closed the door, and for some minutes seemed absorbed in reverie, from which she was aroused by her son. " Mother," said Louis, " it IDA NORMAN. 15 seems to me wrong for my father to accept this foreign ap- pointment, to go abroad to a distant country, giving up our home and its comforts, and leaving his children among strangers. But I would not mind for myself. I am a boy and can take care of myself any where; but for you and Ida I am anxious ; especially for you, my dear mother, who are so delicate and so little able to endure the fatigues of travel- ing and the privations you must suffer. How hard it will be, when you are feeble and sick, to have none of the atten- tions you are accustomed to at home." Mrs. Norman took the hand of her son in hers and looked tenderly upon him ; his words were but the echo of her own sad thoughts, and her full heart found relief in tears. " I feel, indeed, the force of your remarks, Louis," said she, " but I should be un- worthy to be the wife of a distinguished statesman, were I to object to his serving his country in a way most befitting his talents. I have indeed, been ambitious of this honor ; but now that the trial is near, I shrink from the sacrifices to be made, and would gladly change places with the most humble of our citizen's wives who can quietly remain in the bosom of her family, urged from them by no call of duty. But if I stay with my children I must be separated from my husband, if I go with him, I must leave you; either alterna- tive is painful; besides, I am not fitted by education or physical strength for courts and the fatigues of state ceremo- nies. I can speak no foreign language ; I was never fond of books, and now am too far advanced in life to begin to study. Alas ! why have I so eagerly desired honors which demand the sacrifice of all domestic enjoyments !" Ida pressed her mother's hand, deeply affected by this unaccustomed self- abasement of one usually reserved, and often haughty in manner. u Mama," said she, affecting cheerfulness, " why trouble yourself about that which we cannot now help ; you will see so many pretty things abroad, and the time will soon 16 IDA NORMAN. pass away, and then we shall be all together again. You could soon learn French ; suppose you begin with a verb to- morrow, and let me be your teacher ; and when you are away, you will write to us very often ; and when you come back, we shall all be so happy, and Louis and I will never quarrel any more ; will we, Louis !" Louis kissed his sister's cheek and smiled, though the tear drop glistened in his eye. Mrs. Norman then desired her children to retire, telling them she felt the need of rest ; she had much to do on the morrow, particularly in directing such preparation of cloth- ing for them as was necessary, in view of their being placed at school for several years. The idea of going to school among strangers was not pleasant to Ida ; but she would not at that time, add to the distress of her mother by any ex- pression of her feelings. Louis was a manly boy, he felt himself called on to show his resolution, and this inspired him with courage. We are sorry to say, that Mrs. Norman on this interesting occasion, sent her children to their nightly repose without an evening hymn or prayer, and that she had not even taught them to worship their Creator in secret. The Normans were a prayerless family, devoted to the world, its pomps and vanities. Political ambition was the ruling passion of Mr. Norman, while his less gifted wife sought for distinction in the charmed circle of fashion. He had been a devoted partizan in politics, and a new career of distinction now opened before him. Possibly he had his reason for wishing to leave his country, and fortune had fa- vored his views, in giving him a foreign appointment. En- dowed with talents of a high order, and gifted with the power of eloquence, he had exercised those talents and wielded this power for the advancement of his own private interests, rather than for the good of his country. Naturally noble and ingenious, he had gradually sunk the patriot in the baser aspirations of the partizan and politician, until, losing his own self-respect, he had ceased to have confidence in others. IDA NORMAN. 17 In the bitterness of his own spirit, while he acknowledged to himself, that he deceived others, he felt that he was but the tool of those who had been even more successful than himself in the game of political intrigue. The secret meeting in Mr. Norman's private apartment was protracted to a late hour. Mrs. Norman's nerves were too excitable to allow her to sleep, for though ignorant of what was going on, she was troubled and alarmed ; some new movement of the political wheel might possibly throw her husband back into a private station ; and with an in- consistency common to human nature, she now feared, as the greatest of evils, the loss of that appointment on a fo- reign embassy, which she had just regarded as involving so much distress, and as unfavorable to the true interests and happiness of her family. Mr. Norman, long after midnight, laid an aching head upon his pillow, his political friends had presented for his consideration sundry bonds which he had given to sup- ply the means of promoting the success of the party ; and some had hinted their suspicions that his accounts with the National Government, in late monied transactions, were by no means favorable for his endorsers. Mr. Norman had his reasons for determining to make the most of present advantages, and to hasten preparations for his departure from the country. 18 IDA NORMAN. CHAPTER II. SELECTION OF SCHOOLS. MR. NORMAN had too much to do with State affairs, and with the Cabinet at Washington, to think much about the selection of schools for his son and daughter, which con- cern he left chiefly to his wife, who, feeling that she was incompetent to judge on this subject, allowed herself to be governed by chance. Ida, she said, must certainly go to the most fashionable school ; and she was about to decide in favor of one of specious pretensions, when she received a visit from her former school companion and friend, Mrs. Selby, a lady no less distinguished for good sense than for elegant manners. This lady, feeling a deep interest in Ida Norman, who had occasionally been a companion of her daughter, was very desirous that she should be placed in a situation favorable to the improvement of her character, as well as her progress in knowledge and accomplishments. " In leaving your country, Mrs. Norman, what do you intend to do with your daughter. You will not, I pre- sume," said Mrs. Selby, " take her with you ?" Mrs. Norman informed her friend that she should place Ida at school, and that feeling at this time, as a great defect in her own education, the want of a knowledge of the French language, she had determined to select for her daughter a French school. " But, my dear madam," said Mrs. Selby, " have you re- flected that in giving your daughter an almost entire French education, you make her superficial as an English scholar. You do not, I hope, expect to become French in your feelings and tastes, or wish to bring up your children to forget their native language. You know Mrs. Vaughn has IDA NORMAN. 19 so educated her children, which as she speaks French is not so bad for herself, but her good mother is greatly embarrassed for she cannot converse with her grandchildren any more than if they were Chinese ; and what renders the case more distressing, is the fact that Mrs. Vaughn is an only child, and her children are peculiarly dear to their aged grandmother. But it was her mania to bring up her daughter to be a French lady, and she now sees the ridicu- lous, and sad effects. Mrs. Vaughn dislikes American so- ciety, our language, government and manners. Any mous- tached foreigner, with the slightest introduction, or scarcely any introduction at all, is well received at her soirees, where it is considered vulgar to speak our native language, while Americans, except such few as occupy very distin- guished positions, or can speak French, are made to feel that they are out of place. This is certainly ridiculous. The French, themselves ridicule the folly which leads pa- rents to sacrifice so much to the attainment of a foreign language. You, indeed, my dear Mrs. Norman, are to ap- pear at a foreign court, as the wife of an American minis- ter, but this is an event not to be generally expected ; while every American woman, in the higher circles, is expected to possess a knowledge of English grammar, English litera- ture, and to be familiar with many branches of study, which can be pursued to greatest advantage through the medium of her native language. To adopt a foreign tongue as a medium to obtain knowledge, is like darkening vision by opaque glasses, when we have perfect eye-sight." " Indeed, Mrs. Selby, I confess your arguments have weight, besides it might not seem patriotic in us to give our children an exclusively French education. Mr. Nor- man's public station renders it very important that we should make ourselves popular, at least with our own party." Mrs. Selby had not thought of bringing forward an argu- 20 IDA NORMAN. ment like this to a mother, when deliberating upon the course of education for her child ; but she prudently for- bore the expression of any surprise, thereby seeming to as- sent to the truth of Mrs. Norman's proposition. Mrs. Selby left with Mrs. Norman, for her examination, a prospectus of Mrs. Newton's school, at Science Hall, promising to call in a few days and converse with her friend farther on the choice of a school for her daughter. Louis was to be sent to an institution for boys, distinguished for discipline and high grade of scholarship, but less for this, than because some of the leading politicians of the party which had elevated Mr. Norman, had given it their patronage. All was now bustle and confusion at the dwelling of Mr. Norman; furniture was to be packed away preparations were to be made for a sea voyage, and a long residence abroad. The weak nerves of Mrs. Norman received many shocks from the breaking of mirrors and chandeliers, and disappointments from mechanics, dress-maker and seam- stresses. She often called on Ida to try to do something about her own aflairs ; but Ida had no idea of industry, she had been brought up to consider it as a vulgar quality necessary only for such as work for a living. So amidst all the confusion around her, she continued to spend her time in looking listlessly out of the window, seeing the new bonnets and dresses which appeared in the streets, lounging on a sofa with a story-book in her hand, or idly thrumming over her music. She was sorry when she saw her mother unhappy and dispirited ; her heart reproached her, and she made great professions of what she was going to do on the morrow. IDA NORMAN. 21 CHAPTER III. TABLE TALK. THE morning sun was bright, and shone forth beautifully upon Broadway, revealing a great moving panorama; the busy and idle, the anxious and thoughtless, the gay and miserable thronging a thoroughfare which may be consi- dered as the grand artery of the London of America. Mr. and Mrs. Norman, at the fashionable hour of eleven o'clock, were still seated at their breakfast table. "And so my dear," said the gentleman, "you have concluded to place Ida with Mrs. Newton at Science Hall; you have made a good choice, I am delighted with the judgment you have displayed." "I claim no merit, as Mrs. Selby dissuaded me from sending her to Madame de la Trappe, and recommended this school to me. But what do you know about Mrs. Newton's school, Mr. Norman ?" "Nothing of her school, Eliza, but much of her; you know she was once Amelia Walsingham," said Mr. Norman, slightly coloring as he spoke. "Is it possible," replied Mrs. Norman, "that she now keeps a school ? I have lost sight of her for years I re- collect you was a law student in her father's office, and I once heard that you was an admirer of hers; but I hope while you took lessons in law from the father, you did not receive those of a more interesting nature of the daughter; I trust there was nothing in the report, for I would not place Ida with a neglected flame of her father, lest she might be punished for his indifference." "Make yourself easy on that point, Eliza, Mrs. Newton is too noble in disposition to act an unworthy part by our 22 IDA NORMAN. child, even were your suggestions founded in reality: but / never neglected her, had I committed no other fault than that, my life might have been a very different one. I might have been less distinguished, but more happy; the affections of the heart developed in their full growth and activity, might have taken something from my intellectual energies; but we mark not out our own destiny in life, we carve not our own fortunes, " There's a Divinity that shapes our ends, Rough-hew them as we will." "You talk in enigmas, Mr. Norman, I do not understand you." "It is, perhaps, well, Eliza, that you should not under- stand fully what in my weakness I have uttered ; but I will frankly own that there was a time when Amelia Walsing- ham was dear to me, and all my future plans in life referred to her; it was for her sake, that I studied and toiled to gain that knowledge in my profession, which was to give me fame and a high standing among men. But the illusion vanished; my air built castle disappeared and left me to brave the storms of life, with a heart crushed and blighted with disappointment." "And yet you would wish this woman to educate your child; she who deceived you, who trampled your affections beneath her feet ; my daughter shall never be entrusted to her, I have too much pride for that, if I had not to marry one who, when even a suitor for my hand, scarcely pro- fessed to love me." My dear Eliza, you wrong Mrs. Newton, you would wrong your child by this spirit. She never deceived me, she was truth and candor itself but I, yes, I must confess my guilt. I deceived her in respect to my religious princi- ples; she was a Christian, I an unbeliever; she believed in self-denial, 1 in self-gratification ; she would be virtuous for IDA NORMAN. 23 the love of virtue, I for the esteem of men ; I concealed from her my real sentiments ; I went with her to the house of worship, and gave a decent attention, but my homage was not to the most High, it was to the idol I had enshrined within my heart. She was deceived, for I appeared, when with her, under false colours. I believed, that under her influence, I should ever be kept from disgraceful acts but alas, I was made to feel, in all its bitterness, the weakness of human nature unsupported by religious principle. I com- mitted an act which seemed to me, at the time, excusable, and which I thought would never be exposed. I wanted money, my father refused to supply me, and with a forged draft, I obtained money from his banker. My father would have screened me, but Judge Walsingham discovered the fraud, and reported it to Amelia ; 1 received from her a note with these words, which are burned as with a hot iron upon the tablets of my memory. " I pity you, but the man who can do a dishonest act, can never be the husband of Amelia Walsingham. We part far ever." " How ridiculous," said Mrs. Norman, " had you not a right to your father's money ? you were his only son, and would inherit all he should leave, you were only antici- pating a little." "So I reasoned, but not so judged Miss Walsingham, and from that day we have never met. I was too proud to sue for forgiveness, and I knew too well, her firmness in all that concerned moral actions to hope for success, should I at- tempt to reinstate myself in her favor." " Well, and so she married an obscure parson, with no estate but his gown and surplice; while James Livingston Norman, became the husband of Eliza Tudor, who brought him an immense fortune, and for his sake, rejected the most brilliant offers ; (and Mrs. Norman assumed a lofty air,) I believe Miss Walsingham was poor." Mr. Norman, abstracted, seemed unconscious of the re- 24 IDA NORMAN. mark, and his wife continued, "I shall not send Ida to Mrs. Newton's school, our conversation this morning has changed my purpose." Mr. Norman started from his reverie, " and what, madam, has this to do with the welfare of our child ? I have told you that Mrs. Newton was scrupulous and severe in her ideas of virtue ; should not this inspire you with confidence in her. If she ever had a tender regard for the father, she may feel the greater interest in the child, and God only knows," continued he with deep earnestness, " what events may take place before our return to America, or whether we may ever return ; Ida may be left to the cold charities of the world ; and who among those who now selfishly pay court to the father, would care for and protect the orphan ?" "But our children, Mr. Norman, are born to fortune; they will be dependent on no one, and last of all, I trust my proud Ida will never need the kindness or sympathy of Mrs. Newton." " I hope she will never want for any thing," replied Mr. Norman somewhat impatiently, "but I wish you to make arrangements to place her with Mrs. Newton, whose school I did not think of, till you suggested it, but which I de- cidedly approve." Mr. Norman's decided opinion, his lady well knew was not to be disputed, and she changed the subject, hoping to gain, by her acquiescence in her husband's wishes, certain indulgences that he might otherwise have been unwilling to grant. " Since it is decided, that Ida shall go to Mrs . Newton's school, we must prepare her to make a suitable appearance among the very genteel associates she will there meet with. I intend going out to shop this morning and shall want money." "The wardrobe of a school girl cannot cost much," said Mr. Norman, " what sum shall you need ?" IDA NORMAN. 25 Oh, as to that, you must consider that the child is to be left for years, and that when we return she will be quite a young lady. She will need a watch, bracelets, and other expensive articles; as well as a variety of dresses, silk, cashmere, merino and cambric; and I am going to that artist near the Park who paints so beautifully, to have the children sit for their portraits ; he only charges two thou- sand dollars for a family piece, and I shall want you, my dear, to find time to sit to him. I have promised to give him a sitting to-morrow." " How much money will serve you for the shopping to- day ? If you get that extravagant picture painted, I trust the artist will wait for his pay until it is finished." " I think a thousand or two dollars to-day, will do, but if you have more to spare, I dare say I can find ways enough to spend it." " Send to my room in half an hour, and you shall have checks for a thousand dollars, it is absolutely all 1 have at command to-day. I shall receive to-morrow, a treasury draft from government, for my outfit as a foreign minister." " Why do you speak of that," said Mrs. Norman, " when you have hundreds of thousands in bank stock ; and real estate in the city, the income from which might make a prince rich ?" Mr. Norman did not answer, and the lady, after a minute's pause, arose and pulled the bell cord ; a servant appeared. "Tell Thomas to have the coach at the door in an hour's time, and ask Mrs. Andrews to come here with Miss Ida." Mr. Norman rose from the breakfast table, and left the room. Mrs. Norman played with her spoon, looked thoughtful, and at length grew impatient. She rung the bell again, and the same servant entered. "Please, madam, Mrs. Andrews says, Miss Ida won't get up, 'cause she says, it is too early." "Tell Mrs. Andrews to say to Miss Ida, that if she wishes 3 26 IDA NORMAN. to go shopping with me, she must be ready before one o'clock ; and tell Master Louis, make haste and come to his breakfast." " Here I am, mother," said Louis, " I have been out in the garden looking at the buds on the lilac shrubs, they are just beginning to open, and the crocusses and snow-drops are in blossom ; here are some I plucked to show you ; and the spring birds have come back ; I left a robin singing sweetly on a branch of one of the old elms in the avenue. But, mother, how can you let Ida remain in bed so long. 1 just heard Kitty tell Susan, that Mrs. Andrews says she has been trying for two hours to make her get up. Well, it will be a good thing for her to be at a school, where she will be obliged to get up by sun-rise. Frank Selby says Julia always gets up before six o'clock when at home, because she is accustomed to rise so early at school. For my part, I wish to be under strict rules ; I know it is best for me, and I choose to go where I shall be made to do my duty." " That is a very good idea, Louis," said his mother, " I hope you will always try to do right, and become as dis- tinguished in the world as your father." "Mother," said Louis, "what is this distinction in the world worth ? it does not make father happy ; it seems to me I never saw him so uneasy and perplexed as since he has become a great man ; and he has never a moment to spend with us. ft am thinking it would be better to be less distin- guished, and more happy .'^ Miss Ida now made her appearance, rubbing her eyes ; the servants in attendance brought in the hot breakfast ; and the two children sat at the table and took their coflee out of porcelain cups of the richest patterns, while the massive silver urn and other articles of the most expensive kind, be- spoke luxury and taste. IDA NORMAN. 27 CHAPTER IV. THE FASHIONABLE MOTHER SHOPPING. MRS. NORMAN'S splendid equipage with suitable ap- pointment of liveried servants, was at the door precisely at the time ordered ; and that lady, adorned in the height of extravagance and fashion, accompanied by her young daugh- ter, scarcely less dressed, took her seat in the luxurious carriage. As the elegant mother and the exquisite young lady entered shop after shop, they created no small sensa- tion. Every clerk was at their service, and most obsequi- ous bows followed and preceded their movements. Splen- did silks, rich laces and expensive embroidered handker- chiefs were bought for Ida to take to school ; crape and cashmere shawls of great value were purchased for her use. Whatever was rich and pretty she wanted, and what- ever she wanted her mother bought for her. Gloves in, great quantities and ornamented in Parisian style were pur- chased ; and linen of the finest kind, with rich lace to trim the ruffles, was laid in. The watch and chain, with other articles of jewelry, assisted much to lighten the purse of Mrs. Norman. An expensive writing-desk of rose wood, ornamented with embossed gold, was shewn them at a va- riety store. Ida wished for it, and her mother thought it cheap at seventy-five dollars. k 'We will now," said Mrs. Norman, as they were getting into their carriage, "go to Mrs. Landon's, and leave the linen to be made." k ' That sweet Mrs. Landon, mama, who knit my zephyr tippet and polka, and has sewed so much for you ? Oh, I remember her and her lovely daughter about my own age; and Willie Landon, I wonder if he has grown much since 28 IDA NORMAN. I saw him. How long have you known Mrs. Landon, mama r" "She was," said Mrs. Norman, "a school companion of mine, and in youth we were somewhat ultimate; but our conditions hi life have since been so very different, that we have never met, except as I have occasionally gone to her for needle-work, which she is glad to do to support her family. She is one of the neatest seamstresses in the city. When we were at school together, she was always industrious." Mrs. Norman might have added, "and she often helped me out with my lessons when I could not get them." But this would have been humiliating. " Why have you never assisted Mrs. Landon in some way, mama ? I think it would have been kind in you to have done so, and it seems as if we might be so happy to do a great deal of good, when we have plenty of money." "Why, so I have assisted Mrs. Landon, in giving her work to do ; she is too proud to receive charity." " Yes, mama, but then there are delicate ways of helping people who are needy, you might have asked papa to get a situation in the Navy or in some of the public offices for Willie, it has made me feel sorry to see him look so sad. He seems such a noble boy, as if he was made for some- thing great; and then, you might have done something to- wards educating Laura, who I am sure, looks much more as if born to be a lady than I do." "It is not for you, Ida, to tell your mother what she ought to have done. You know very well your father often finds fault with what I expend for the family, though 1 study so much to be economical ; and what would he say were I to attempt to take care of the families of others, or to trouble him about them; and where am I to get money to expend hi charity, when I am often troubled to pay my just debts." Ida, somewhat puzzled by her mother's reasoning, and IDA NORMAN. #9 perceiving her somewhat offended, made no answer. The carriage stopped at the door of Mrs. Landon's lowly dwell- ing, and the little girl and her mother were soon seated in the neat but humble parlor. " I wish," said Mrs. Norman, " to have these pieces of linen, and this fine cambric, for night gowns, made for my daughter, as soon as possible. Mrs. Landon, you will ob- serve the exquisite fineness of the linen ; this linen cam- bric for the ruffling is the very finest the city affords ; and here is a large quantity of splendid valencienes lace to trim with. How soon, Mrs. Landon, can you do this work ? My daughter is going away to school, as soon as she can be pre- pared, and we wish to see her settled before we go abroad. The frigate which is ordered by government to carry out my husband will be in the harbor soon, and of course there can be no delay; it is therefore important that I get every thing in readiness for our departure, as soon as possible." " I should be very glad, Mrs. Norman," said the person addressed, with a sweet voice, and in a dignified manner, "to do this work, but I cannot possibly engage to finish so great a number of articles, even within several weeks, or perhaps months I have no one to assist me at present." " Where is your daughter, Mrs. Landon ? f thought she worked with you ; it is very hard she should leave you, just as she is old enough to be of some use to you." M.TS,, Landon blushed deeply, and her eyes glistening with tears, mildly answered ; " My daughter, madam, is a most dutiful and affectionate child ; she would, if possible, shield her mother from all the trials and sorrows of life. You ask me where she is : my early friend, Mrs. Newton, who has truly proved herself the friend of the widow and fatherless, has invited Laura to be- come a member of her family." "Mrs. Newton, indeed I hope Laura has not gone to be a chamber-maid in her family. I think you might do better 3* 30 IDA NORMAN. for her than that ; she would, I dare say, soon learn the dress making, or millinery business." Again the color came to the cheeks of Mrs. Landon, and she drew herself up somewhat proudly. " Mrs. Norman, you wrong Mrs. Newton as much as you wound me, by your suggestion ; Mrs. Newton has taken my daughter as a pupil, to enjoy all the advantages of her school ; and if successful in making such improvement as we hope, she may one day become a teacher." "-How glad I am, dear Mrs. Landon," said Ida, with emo- tioiij " to hear that Laura has gone to Mrs. Newton's. I always loved her, and we shall, I know, be very good friends, for I am going to that very school." Mrs. Norman attempted to frown, but Ida did not, or would not understand her mother's looks. "Pray," said Mrs. Norman, "how can Mrs. Newton afford to educate your daughter at her own expense I suppose she is not herself rich." " She is rich in faith and good works," said Mrs. Landon. " In giving to the poor, she considers that she is lending to the Lord." .-V t; But, does she really give your daughter her education ?" said Mrs. Norman, her curiosity getting the better of her politeness. " We receive it, for the present, as a gift," said Mrs. Landon, meekly, " though, I hope Laura will, hereafter, in some de- gree, repay her benefactress the pecuniary obligation ; the debt of gratitude, she can never cancel, nor would she, Lhope, ever wish to do it ; for when the heart is right, the feeling of gratitude is sweet." Mrs. Norman, who, with many weaknesses and little- nesses, was still capable of fine feelings, and had, herself, a wish to do good, only she could never see how, began to comprehend that there was something in this transaction which reflected honor on all parties, Mrs. Landon, in ac- cepting with trust and confidence, as Mrs. Newton, in be- IDA NORMAN. 31 stowing the favor, and she almost wished herself in Mrs. Newton's place, that she might enjoy the pleasure of feeling herself beneficent. She thought of Mrs. Landon's son, pen- sive and drooping as she had seen him, and very kindly in- quired after him. " Willie, too, has been provided for through the influence of Mrs. Newton, and now enjoys the advantages of a busi- ness education he has so much desired." "I love Mrs. Newton," said Ida, "for being kind to Willie. Do you remember, Mrs. Landon, once, when I was here, I took suph a fancy to his little kitten, and put it in his cap to make him laugh, and how pleased I was that he made me a present of it when I came away ? Do you think, Mrs. Landon, Willie would know me now ?" Mrs. Landon smiling, said, " I am sure he would not for- get such an introduction to an acquaintance, especially, as I think, kitty scratched his hand when he attempted to take her out of his cap." Mrs. Norman resumed the subject of her visit. "I am sorry, Mrs. Landon, you cannot do this work as soon as I want it. I had really set my heart upon your making up these articles; you do every thing so neatly, and the materials are so nice. I am unwilling to trust them to any one else." "I will try," said Mrs. Landon, "to make up such a quantity of this under-clothing as your daughter will need to take to school with her ; too much would only be in the way ; and if I may presume to suggest, I would advise to make the articles plain, as the ruffles will be rather an em- barrassment to the laundresses, by adding to their work. I have heard Mrs. Newton remark, that she preferred her pu- pils should have their clothing so made as not to require extra labor in doing up, as, in a large family, this was a matter of some consequence." "Very strange indeed," said Mrs. Norman, "that Mrs. Newton should attempt to dictate in such matters. I should 32 IDA NORMAN. suppose a lady would be above looking into the affairs of the laundry or kitchen." Mrs. Landon making no reply, Mrs. Norman rose to go, when Mrs. Landon, with some embarrassment took from her secretary a paper, saying as she presented it, " excuse me madam, for reminding you, that this small bill for sew- ing, still remains unpaid. I sent it as you directed to your husband, and he referred the messenger to you, but you were out at the time." Mrs. Norman slightly coloring, carelessly said, " indeed this bill ought to have been paid long ago ; but I have not absolutely one dollar left, and for some of my purchases this morning, I was obliged to ask credit; but before we leave the country, you shall certainly be paid, not only this bill, but for what you are going to do." " I wished," said Mrs. Landon, " to purchase for my daughter some calico dresses, and other clothing, having sent her to school with a very scanty wardrobe." Ida Norman had listened with uneasiness to the dialogue; taking her mother aside, she said, "mama it is not right that Mrs. Landon should not be paid, can we not exchange some of the things we have bought this morning for what she wants to buy ? There is that piece of linen cambric and valencienes lace, which we do not want, I dare say the merchant would be willing to take it back, and let Mrs. Landon have the value in such goods as she wants. How much is her bill mama ?" "Fifty dollars," said Mrs. Norman in a whisper, "a monstrous sum for needle work." "Oh! but mama, just think of those rich embroidered handkerchiefs and beautifully trimmed night-dresses she has wrought, and made for you. Will you not consent to let her have the piece of cambric and the lace ? let me see, this cambric, cost as much as thirty dollars, and the lace was about twenty; then here is one piece of linen which we do IDA NORMAN. 33 not want ; let us return these, and, besides paying this bill, there will be something in advance for the work MF.S. Lan- don is now going to do for us." Mrs. Norman convinced that her daughter's plan was reasonable, and relieved by it from an unpleasant situation, with some embarrassment explained to Mrs. Landon what Ida had said. That lady looked at the child with sur- prise and approbation, a tear drop glistening in h