THE LIBRARY 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 v
 
 I 
 
 '. *
 
 titaitag* <5wmng 
 
 FOR 0y?3 PEOPLE. 
 
 COMPILED 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF "GRACE MORTON." 
 
 PHILADELPHIA: 
 
 PETER F. CUNNINGHAM, Catholic Bookseller, 
 
 No. 216 North Third Street. 
 
 1865.
 
 N the small village of L was a 
 neat little school house, built of 
 stone. Over the porch clustered 
 in sweet profusion roses and sweet 
 brier. On one side was a play- 
 ground, and on the other a large beau- 
 tiful garden in which stood the cottage 
 of Miss Onslow, to whom the school be- 
 longed. She was well qualified for the 
 important task of instructing those com- 
 mitted to her care, since she not only 
 taught them worldly learning, but also 
 planted the seeds of piety and virtue in 
 their hearts. She was universally be- 
 loved. 
 
 622788
 
 4 COTTAGE EVENING TALES. 
 
 One morning the inhabitants of the 
 usually quiet village were considerably 
 excited by the arrival of a traveling car- 
 riage, drawn by four horses. It con- 
 tained a lady dressed in deep mourning, 
 a little girl and female attendant, and 
 halted at the door of the school. The 
 pupils all threw down their books, and 
 in spite of the commands of Miss Onslow 
 rushed to the windows to gaze at the 
 extraordinary sight, for a carriage drawn 
 by four white horses had never before 
 been seen in that secluded place. 
 
 Miss Onslow went out to salute the 
 stranger, who inquired if there was a 
 cottage to be rented in the village. The 
 teacher replied that she wished to rent 
 her own, which she pointed out; the 
 lady soon proved that she was both re- 
 spectable and independent, and the terms 
 were quickly settled. She took posses-
 
 COTTAGE EVENING TALES. 5 
 
 sion next day, Miss Onslow removing to 
 the school, which suited her best as a resi- 
 dence. Mrs. -Grenville (so was the stran- 
 ger named) soon became a favorite, and 
 her little daughter, Nina, won every 
 heart by her piety and modesty. . Miss 
 Onslow found the lady a great acquisi- 
 tion, and they soon became inseparable. 
 
 "I am very fond of children," said 
 Mrs. Grenville one day, "and I think 
 we might both amuse and instruct them 
 by having Saturday Evening conversa- 
 tions, on subjects connected with religion 
 and morality. I will give one every 
 other Saturday, and you shall give the 
 others." 
 
 Her friend was delighted with the idea, 
 and the next Saturday was appointed.

 
 
 r 
 
 " Bear with one another." 
 
 Osr^> 
 
 LARGE number of children 
 .assembled at the cottage at 
 the appointed hour in eager 
 anticipation of the pleasure 
 awaiting them. Mrs. Gren- 
 ville, turning to Mary Day, 
 who had just entered, asked why her 
 brother had not come with her. 
 
 " Oh, he would not come because we 
 had quarreled I thought him very un- 
 reasonable only think of his accusing 
 me of stealing his marbles of being 
 sulky and disobliging, because I do not 
 want to play at his boisterous games. His
 
 8 COTTAGE EVENING TALES. 
 
 behaviour to me was perfectly shocking, 
 and I did not care much to come with 
 him but what are you going to dis- 
 course about this evening?" 
 
 " You have furnished us with a very 
 good subject, dear Mary, and I will 
 relate the history of two little friends of 
 mine, which, I trust will benefit you, by 
 showing the fault you have just com- 
 mitted towards your brother : 
 
 " Josephine was about ten years old, 
 and her brother Charles nearly seven. 
 Both were intelligent were generally 
 obedient to their parents, and might be 
 termed good children, but Charles had 
 lately become very self-willed and over- 
 bearing in his intercourse with his sister, 
 and she had contracted the habit of 
 speaking of his faults to whomsoever 
 she met, without necessity. What 
 would you call that habit, Mary ?"
 
 FIRST EVENING. 
 
 "I believe you would call it detrac- 
 tion," she replied, blushing, whilst a 
 tear trembled in her eye. 
 
 " You are right, my love ; but, to 
 continue my story, it is true those were 
 great faults in Charles, but still hi 
 faults did not excuse hers. Their uncle 
 had lately returned from the East Indies, 
 and came to spend some months with 
 them. He was in very bad health, and 
 rather peevish when there was much 
 noise or bustle, but he was exceedingly 
 fond of children and very kind to them, 
 though he never weakly indulged them. 
 Now the constant contention between 
 his nephew and niece greatly annoyed 
 him, and he resolved to endeavor to 
 cure them both, for their own sakes as 
 well as for his own. One molping he 
 told them he intended to spena the next 
 day with a friend, who was to have a
 
 10 COTTAGE EVENING TALES. 
 
 sailing party on the lake, near his own 
 house, and that he would take them 
 with him. They were very much. de- 
 lighted, for they seldom had such an 
 invitation. 
 
 "A few hours afterwards Josephine 
 rushed into her uncle's room weeping 
 bitterly, and said that Charles had be- 
 haved in the most outrageous manner, 
 and had broken her doll, because she 
 had refused to put it aside to play ball 
 with him, and that it was always some 
 such scene when she did not do exactly 
 as he choose in short she had no plea- 
 sure in his company. 
 
 " 'I hope, dear uncle,' she continued, 
 i you will not take him with you to-mor- 
 row, for he will spoil all our pleasure.' 
 
 "IIellbncle,Hiade no reply, but look- 
 ing suddenly at his watch exclaimed : ' I 
 had irearly forgotten to send away this 
 letter," and left the room.
 
 FIRST EVENING. 11 
 
 " Soon afterwards Charles entered in 
 search of a book, and not seeing his 
 uncle, who was reclining on a sofa, ex- 
 claimed: 'Josephine is so cross and dis- 
 obliging that, if my uncle takes her with 
 him to-morrow, I do not much care about 
 going. She will be telling everybody I 
 am this and that. I hope she will say she is 
 sorry, for after all I don't like to quarrel 
 with her: yet, why cannot she play with 
 me in the way I ask her?' He left the 
 room muttering that she would spoil all 
 his pleasure if she went with his uncle. 
 
 " The next morning the two children 
 were bustling about at an early hour, and 
 appeared at the breakfast table dressed 
 in their best. Their uncle came in and 
 remarked to their mother, that, as the 
 day was so beautiful, he ^hould have a 
 delightful ride to his friend's on horse- 
 back.
 
 12 COTTAGE EVENING TALES. 
 
 " <0n horseback!' exclaimed Joseph- 
 ine, ' Who then will drive us ?' 
 
 " ' I am going alone/ he replied, and, 
 to avoid any explanation, he bid their 
 mother good morning, and departed. 
 
 " The children were speechless from 
 astonishment, and turning an inquiring 
 look towards their mother, she also left 
 the room without noticing them, and 
 they remained alone. They had not 
 spoken to each other since their quarrel, 
 poor children, they had not reflected 
 that if they had died that night, they 
 were at warfare with each other. Their 
 parents knew of the whole affair, but at 
 the request of her brother had not inter- 
 fered. 
 
 "They sat and looked at each other 
 for some time : at length Josephine said, 
 ' It" is all your fault Charles, that we are 
 left at home my uncle is, no doubt, 
 displeased at your conduct yesterday.'
 
 FIRST EVENING. 13 
 
 " ' How did lie know it, and why 
 did he not then take you ?' asked her 
 brother. 
 
 " To this she made no answer. 
 
 '""Well, then,' continued Charles, 'it 
 such be the case let us resolve never to 
 quarrel again.' 
 
 "'If you would not be so headstrong 
 and impatient we should never disagree,' 
 replied his sister. 
 
 " 'And if you would not be always 
 telling my faults, I should never be angry 
 with you for more than a minute,' re- 
 plied Charles, for he was really good- 
 hearted. 
 
 " They embraced each other with 
 many promises of never quarreling 
 again. 
 
 " Their uncle returned to supper, and 
 related the delightful party on the water, 
 a pony race, and other varieties, but
 
 14 COTTAGE EVENING TALES. 
 
 never even glanced towards the discon- 
 solate children. At length Charles 
 rushed up to him, and sobbing bitterly, 
 said, 'What have we done, dear uncle, 
 that you broke your promise to take us 
 with you, and will not even now speak 
 to us ?' 
 
 "The good old gentleman told them 
 how he knew of their disagreement, and 
 explained how sinful it was to quarrel ; 
 then'how wrong it was in Josephine to 
 relate the faults of her brother, keeping 
 back her own. 'I am sure,' continued 
 he, ' that had you given Charles an oblig- 
 ing answer, and a good reason for not 
 playing as he wished at that moment, 
 he would not have been so unreasonable. 
 You have no right to repeat his faults, 
 and thus injure him in the estimation of 
 another, unless with fraternal charity 
 you speak of them to those who have
 
 FIRST EVENING. 15 
 
 charge over him for his good. A pious 
 writer says : ' If thy intentions be good, 
 and thou really mean to correct the fault 
 of thy brother, begin by correcting thy 
 own.' "Was that your intention when 
 you complained to me of his conduct 
 yesterday ?' 
 
 " Josephine hung her head and burst 
 into tears. 
 
 " 'And you, dear Charles,' continued 
 the old gentleman, ' learn to give up 
 your own will and condescend to that 
 of others, and remember, that if we are 
 not willing to suffer anything from 
 others, if we give way to our temper and 
 ill humor upon the slightest provocation, 
 how can we call ourselves the followers 
 of Him who, when He was reviled, did 
 not revile ; when He suffered, threatened 
 not ? Ask pardon of God and of each 
 other for your faults, and if, during a
 
 16 COTTAGE EVENING TALES. 
 
 month, you can refrain frorii 'similar 
 ones, I shall be rewarded for the pain I 
 have suffered in thus having been obliged 
 to punish you for your good.' 
 
 " The children embraced each other, 
 and from that day were inseparable; 
 the one became patient, docile and self, 
 denying; the other charitable, meek 
 and obliging." 
 
 This story made a deep impression on 
 Mary Day, and when she went home 
 she asked her brother's pardon, and 
 after struggling with her evil propensity 
 of talking of the faults of others, she 
 was heard to thank God, that, through 
 Mrs. Grenville, she had learned to know 
 herself.
 
 " Always Tell the Truth." 
 
 evening, my dear child- 
 dren," said Miss Onslow, 
 "shall I select a subject for 
 the evening, or will one of 
 you do so?" 
 
 A little boy advanced and whispered 
 something to her. 
 
 "Very well," she replied, "you shall 
 tell the story, Eugene." 
 
 The child blushed, but, without hesi- 
 tation, commenced as follows : 
 
 " The story I am going to tell you 
 relates to those children, who, when they
 
 18 COTTAGE EVENING TALES. 
 
 do mischief, try to excuse themselves 
 by laying the fault on others. There 
 were four children, named Margaret, 
 Nancy, Janette, and Robert, and they all 
 had the fault I have spoken of. One day 
 their mother went out to dine with a 
 friend, and said she hoped they would 
 behave well in her absence, and not give 
 the nurse unnecessary trouble. For a 
 little while all went on very well, but 
 the nurse having left the room on an 
 errand, Robert broke the window-glass 
 with his ball Nancy scorched a new 
 frock, just made for her by her mother, 
 by holding it too near the stove whilst 
 warming it to wrap her doll in in short, 
 when their mother returned the room 
 was in complete confusion. 
 
 " ' "Who broke the window ?' said she. 
 
 "'It was not I,' they all exclaimed, 
 except Robert, who said, ' It might have 
 been one of the srirls.'
 
 SECOND EVENING. 19 
 
 " ' Well,' replied their mother, * I shall 
 ask your guardian angels not to let you 
 go to sleep to-night, unless I am told 
 who did the mischief." 
 
 " The nurse then brought the scorched 
 frock, and remarked that she could not 
 imagine how it had become so. Nancy 
 had replaced it in the drawer from 
 whence she had taken it. 
 
 " ' Who did this?' inquired the mother, 
 glancing at each of the children. 
 
 " Janette said that Nancy was always 
 holding things to the fire, and the latter 
 retorted that she and Margaret did the 
 same. Each one laid the blame on the 
 other, but each concealed the truth, not 
 only regarding the pieces of mischief 
 spoken of, but many other things their 
 mother inquired into. 
 
 " The next morning their excellent 
 parent inquired how they had rested the 
 night before.
 
 20 COTTAGE EVENING TALES. 
 
 " * I could not sleep at all,' said Ro- 
 bert. 
 
 "'Nor I,' remarked Nancy; indeed 
 they had all been kept awake by con- 
 science. W 
 
 " 'Do you really mean to say,' inquired 
 Robert, f that my gurdian angel kept me 
 awake because ' 
 
 " ' Because you broke the window ? 
 Yes, my dear child, your guardian an- 
 gel whispered to you how sinful it was 
 to disguise the truth, and try to lay the 
 blame on another. And did he not whis- 
 per to you, Nancy, that you scorched the 
 frock, and wished Margaret or Janette 
 to bear the blame ? I will tell you a 
 circumstance that happened when I was 
 a child. I was playing in the drawing- 
 room with my brothers and sisters, and 
 we were not allowed to play there. You 
 see that was an act of disobedience.
 
 SECOND EVENING. 21 
 
 One of my brothers struck his ball 
 against a large mirror, and, without in- 
 juring the glass, it fell upon an inkstand 
 on the marble slab beneath, upset the 
 ink, which covered the marble and 
 spoiled several books. We were very 
 much frightened, and instead of running 
 at once to our mother and telling what 
 we had done, we covered it over with 
 the books. Some days afterwards my 
 mother discovered the slab completely 
 spoiled with the ink. On being ques- 
 tioned we all denied having done it, ex- 
 cept my brother, who had been the 
 offender he skulked out of the room to 
 avoid being questioned. I was thought 
 to have done it, as I was very heedless. 
 I would not tell on my brother, neither 
 would the others, so I was punished, 
 and he saw me punished for his fault 
 without having courage enough to own
 
 22 COTTAGE EVENING TALES. 
 
 that he had done the mischief; though 
 we were all to blame for playing there. 
 
 " 'Some months afterwards my mother 
 had discovered the offender, by observ- 
 ing that my brother's ball ha(\a spot of 
 ink on it, and she then thus spoke to us 
 all: 
 
 " l My dear children, what was your 
 motive in concealing the spilling of the 
 ink from me ? See what a sin you have 
 committed! You were all guilty of dis- 
 obedience, in playing where I had for- 
 bidden you you all allowed the inno- 
 cent to be punished you,' turning to 
 my brother, ' were the most wrong, 
 because you left any of your brothers or 
 sisters be punished for your fault you 
 were all wrong, because had you told 
 me your brother did it, begged me to 
 pardon his carelessness, and owned your- 
 selves, to have been guilty of disobedi-
 
 SECOND EVENING. 23 
 
 ence, I should probably have pardoned 
 you all, because you told me the truth.' 
 "We never again committed that fault, 
 and I hope my dear children that you 
 never will.' ' 
 
 "We are much obliged to you Eu- 
 gene, for your story," said Miss Onslow, 
 " and I doubt not that if any of your 
 companions here have ever fallen into 
 that fault, they will remember your his- 
 tory of this evening, and profit by it." 
 
 "But these stories are so short," said 
 one of the children, " can you not tell 
 us something else?" looking at Miss 
 Onslow, and then towards Mrs. Gren- 
 ville. ' 
 
 " I can tell you one pretty much on 
 the same subject," replied Mrs. Gren- 
 ville : "I read it whilst in France, and 
 will translate it for your benefit. I 
 knew many little girls there, and this
 
 24 COTTAGE EVENING TALES. 
 
 story relates to two of them. It is called 
 ' Sincerity Rewarded/ and commences 
 thus : 
 
 "'I would give you anything not to 
 have owned it,' said little Agnes Mont- 
 fort, wiping away the tears from her 
 eyes, and turning from the window, 
 from whence she saw the family depart 
 on an excursion from which she was ex- 
 cluded. 
 
 "'Caroline is very happy now, and yet 
 she has no more right than myself to 
 enjoy this pleasure.' Thus saying she 
 took her books with a spiteful air, and 
 began to study her lessons. 
 
 " The day that Agnes made these 
 melancholy reflections was her birth- 
 day, a period looked forward to by her- 
 self, and her brothers and sisters, as a 
 day of pleasure. It was the month of 
 July, and Mrs. Montfort had promised
 
 SECOND EVENING. 25 
 
 her children a rural feast as a reward 
 for their good conduct. They were to 
 carry provisions with them and dine in 
 the woods, and in the evening old Mar- 
 garet was to regale them with strawber- 
 ries and cream in her hut. It was a 
 beautiful day, when an act of disobe- 
 dience in the part of Agnes deprived 
 her of sharing in it. 
 
 " On the evening before Mrs. Mont- 
 fort had permitted the children to play 
 in a particular part of the garden, not 
 far from which was a green house filled 
 with rare flowers. The children had 
 often been forbidden to play near this 
 building, because they might break the 
 glass windows, and perhaps destroy the 
 precious plants it contained. After 
 watering their little gardens, Agnes 
 proposed to Caroline to play at battle- 
 dore in the meadow, but finding that
 
 26 COTTAGE EVENING TALES. 
 
 place occupied by her brothers, who 
 were playing with a balloon, Caroline 
 proposed to go and play before the green- 
 house, that they would have more room 
 there, and would not be interrupted by 
 their brothers. 
 
 " ' But, my sister,' said Agnes, ' you 
 know that mamma has often told us not 
 to play there.' 
 
 " * Oh ! I have not forgotten it,' re- 
 plied Caroline, ' but she will not know 
 it ; besides the only reason for this re- 
 quest is for fear we should break the 
 windows of the green house, and we 
 will take care of that.' 
 
 "Agnes yet hesitated. At last she let 
 herself be persuaded by her sister, who 
 was the oldest, and the game com- 
 menced. For some time all went on 
 very well, for the little girls were very 
 skilful, but at length Caroline threw the
 
 SECOND EVENING. 27 
 
 shuttlecock towards the green house 
 window. Agnes prepared to send it 
 back with great force, but missing it 
 she struck the window with her battle- 
 dore and broke it in pieces ! Fright- 
 ened and confused, the girls, not daring 
 to enter the green house to see what mis- 
 chief they had done, fled to the other 
 end of the garden. 
 
 " 'Ah, what shall we do ?' said Agnes, 
 sobbing, 'and how angry mamma will 
 be with us, she who has so often forbid- 
 bidden us to play there.' 
 
 " Caroline, who was a good little girl, 
 was as much grieved at her sister's 
 trouble, as by the misfortune that had 
 happened ; she tried to console her, by 
 telling her that possibly their mother 
 might not abserve it. 
 
 *' * Oh it is very certain that she will 
 observe it,' replied Agnes, 'and what
 
 
 28 COTTAGE EVENING TALES. 
 
 will she think of us for concealing it. 
 and then if she asks us, can we den^ 
 what we have done ?' 
 
 "'No certainly not,' replied Caroline, 
 'but she will be occupied about the 
 feast, and really she will not see the 
 misfortune that has happened to us.' 
 
 "Agnes felt that she acted wrongly 
 
 O v 
 
 in not owning immediately the fault she 
 had committed; but the fear of being 
 deprived of the pleasures of the next 
 day, stifled her good sentiments and she 
 resolved not to tell her mother, hoping 
 that the accident would not be discover- 
 ed that day. 
 
 " The next morning the children rose 
 sooner than usual, and at ten o'clock 
 they were all assembled in the parlor, 
 where they awaited their mother. In 
 the midst of the joy and bustle of the 
 morning, Agnes and Caroline had for-
 
 SECOND EVENING. 29 
 
 gotten the accident of the previous 
 evening, but, seeing their mother enter 
 with a grave look, they recollected 
 their fault, and guessed that she had 
 discovered it. 
 
 " 'My children,' said Mrs. Montfort, I 
 went this morning to gather a bouquet 
 of rare flowers to present to Agnes, 
 whose feast day it is, and I have found 
 one of the windows broken in the green- 
 house. As I have often forbidden you to 
 play there, I can scarcely believe you 
 disobeyed me, yet before I question the 
 gardener on the subject, I desire to 
 know if any of you have been guilty of 
 it?' 
 
 ' ' * It was not I, mamma,' exclaimed 
 all the children except Agnes and Caro- 
 line. 
 
 " Mrs. Montfort remarked it, and ad- 
 dressed her oldest daughter: 'you do
 
 30 COTTAGE EVENING TALES. 
 
 not answer, Caroline ? I hope, however, 
 that at your age you are incapable of 
 disobeying your mother, and I have too 
 good an opinion of you to believe it; 
 but answer me sincerely, did you break 
 the window?' 
 
 " Caroline at first intended to tell the 
 truth when her mother questioned her, 
 but the shame of showing herself un- 
 worthy of the confidence placed in her, 
 prevailed over her more upright senti- 
 ments, and she replied almost without 
 hesitation : '~No, mamma.' 
 
 lt Her eyes cast down, and her heart 
 beating, Agnes awaited the terrible 
 question ; after a moment's silence her 
 mother turning to her said : ' Can it be 
 you, my dear Agnes ?' From the affec- 
 tionate tone with which Mrs. Montfort 
 made this inquiry one would have said 
 that, without breaking the truth, she 
 expected Agnes to say no.
 
 SECOND EVENING. 31 
 
 "Agnes was almost tempted to follow 
 the example of her sister, and by an 
 evasive reply get rid of any further ques- 
 tion, but thought that a lie would offend 
 God, whom she had been taught to re- 
 vere, conquered all others, and bursting 
 into tears, she exclaimed : * Yes, mam- 
 ma, I have been guilty enough to dis- 
 obey you, and I did break the window.' 
 
 "Mrs. Montfort appeared extremely 
 affected on hearing these words, and 
 said very sadly, 'Agnes, I am very much 
 grieved to be obliged to punish you on 
 your feast day, this day that I expected 
 to see you so happy ! But the reason is 
 still more grevious. Disobedience is a 
 grave fault, and when it is not repressed 
 may cause such serious misfortune to 
 children, that I should act against my 
 duty if I hesitated to show my displea- 
 sure. I am sorry that I cannot permit
 
 82 COTTAGE EVENING TALES. 
 
 you to take part in the pleasures of to- 
 day. Retire to your study-room and 
 learn your lessions as usual ; your bro- 
 thers and sisters will follow me to the 
 country, since they have done nothing 
 to merit punishment.' 
 
 " On hearing this sentence, the heart 
 of poor Agnes was nearly broken with 
 grief, but she did not dare to murmur. 
 Caroline who well knew that she deserv* 
 ed to partake her sister's punishment, 
 but who had not courage to avow her 
 fault, begged her mother, with tears, to 
 pardon Agnes. The other children 
 joined their entreaties, (for Agnes was 
 loved by them all,) and offered to pay 
 for the broken window with their own 
 money. Mrs. Montfort was inflexible ; 
 she repeated that it was very painful to 
 punish Agnes, but that her duty re- 
 quired it. Seeing that all their en-
 
 SECOND EVENING. 33 
 
 treaties were useless, the children 1 
 ceased to importune her, and poor 
 Agnes retired to her study-room. She 
 ran to the window and saw the whole 
 party leave the house ; but for her care- 
 lessness she would have been with them, 
 and it was when they were out of sight 
 that she involuntarily exclaimed : ' I 
 would give anything not to have owned 
 it!' 
 
 " She even thought it was doubly 
 unjust to punish her so severely, whilst 
 her sister, who had partaken her fault 
 of disobedience, and had also added a lie 
 to that fault, was caressed and rewarded. 
 
 "After having wept a long time, and 
 given free course to her spiteful and sad 
 thoughts that agitated her, she at length 
 began to reflect, and called to mind all 
 she had heard repeated on the necessity 
 of being sincere, and the baseness at-
 
 34 COTTAGE EVENING TALES. 
 
 tached to falsehood. She began to 
 think that in fact she had told the truth, 
 and consequently fulfilled part of her 
 duty. This reflection calmed her in a 
 sudden and extraordinary manner ; soon 
 she began to study her lessons, dried her 
 tears, and attended to her duties with 
 courage and even with pleasure. So 
 true it is that the consciousness of hav- 
 ing acted uprightly, even under trying 
 circumstances, is sufficient to recall 
 calm and serenity to the heart. 
 
 "Thus occupied, the time passed 
 rapidly away, and before Agnes observed 
 that it was already evening she heard 
 the laugh of her young brothers. 
 Knowing by this that the party had re- 
 turned, she quitted the study-room and 
 went to meet them, and without com- 
 plaining of her punishment, listened 
 with great interest to the recital of their 
 pleasures.
 
 SECOND EVENING. 35 
 
 " A short time after this Mr. ^Evelyn, 
 the father of Mrs. Montfort, proposed to 
 give a feast to his grand children and 
 their friends, and he announced, at the 
 same time, that the young boy and girl 
 who should have given the best proofs 
 of good conduct during the three pro- 
 ceeding months, would be named King 
 and Queen of the feast. 
 
 " It was to take place" in fifteen days, 
 and during all that time not the least 
 fault was committed by the young pre- 
 tenders, so ambitious were they of the 
 promised honor. The day expected with 
 so much impatience at last arrived. The 
 children assembled, as well as some 
 friends of the family, who were invited 
 to decide on the merits of the candidates. 
 
 "After having carefully examined the 
 conduct of each, Edward Vivian, a boy 
 of ten years old, whose parents resided
 
 36 COTTAGE EVENING TALES. 
 
 in the neighborhood, and were intimate 
 with the Montfort family, was unani- 
 mously elected King, amidst the ap- 
 plause of the assembly. The honor of 
 being Queen balanced for some time 
 between Caroline and Agnes Montfort, 
 whose conduct was generally exemplary, 
 but at last it was decided in favor of 
 Caroline, because of the fault committed 
 by Agnes on the evening before her 
 birth-day. 
 
 " Seeing herself thus punished a second 
 time for a fault of which her sister was 
 equally guilty, Agnes could not, without 
 great effort, prevent herself from ex- 
 claiming against the injustice of this 
 choice. But as she tenderly loved her 
 sister, who had at the time been sin- 
 cerely grieved at her disgrace, the gen- 
 erous girl contained herself and kept 
 silence, The crown of white roses, the
 
 SECOND EVENING. 37 
 
 sign of royalty on this occasion, was 
 about to be placed on the Lead of Caro- 
 line, when a gentleman in the com- 
 pany rose, and making a sign to prevent 
 the crowning of the young Queen, asked 
 to be heard. 
 
 '"1 am truly grieved, Madam,' said 
 he, addressing Mrs. Montfort, ' to be 
 obliged to divulge the faults of my 
 young friends, and still more of those 
 whose good conduct is so remarkable 
 I mean that of your daughters ; but the 
 magnanimity of one of them deserves to 
 be rewarded. I happened to be witness 
 of the breaking of the green-house win- 
 dow I was walking in the grove unper- 
 ceived by the young ladies, I overheard 
 the conversation in which Caroline per- 
 suaded her sister to go and play there, and 
 the resistance that Agnes at first made to 
 this proposal. It is true that the battle-
 
 38 COTTAGE EVENING TALES. 
 
 dore of Agnes broke the glass, but it was 
 inconsequence of Caroline having thrown 
 the shuttlecock so near the window that 
 the accident must necessarily happen. 
 The fault was equal on both sides. 
 Agnes alone had the courage to own 
 her fault, and the virtue to be silent on 
 that of her sister. She has already been 
 punished for her disobedience ; permit 
 her now to receive the reward of her sin- 
 cerity. Her upright and good heart has 
 preferred to endure a personal mortifi- 
 cation rather than reveal the share her 
 sister had in her fault, and it is to re- 
 ward such generosity that I now deprive 
 Caroline of the honor you had decreed 
 for her.' 
 
 "All the assembly listened to this 
 recital with as much surprise as admira- 
 tion ; whilst the unhappy Caroline, over- 
 whelmed with confusion, retired from
 
 SECOND EVENING. 39 
 
 the circle, where she had triumphantly 
 advanced to receive the crown. Mrs. 
 Montfort, although enchanted at the 
 generous conduct of Agnes, was deeply 
 grieved to find her eldest daughter ca- 
 pable of such duplicity. She thanked 
 her friend, and calling Caroline to her, 
 said: 
 
 " ' I think, my daughter, that it is not 
 necessary to represent to you the conse- 
 quences of dissimulation, for I see how 
 much you feel the mortification to which 
 your conduct exposes you. But, how- 
 ever painful it may be to blush before 
 your friends, the pain is nothing com- 
 pared to that which you should feel 
 for having committed such a fault in the 
 sight of the Almighty. Ask pardon of 
 Him on your knees for such an oifence. 
 I impose no punishment on you, un- 
 happy child ; pursuaded that your con-
 
 40 COTTAGE EVENING TALES. 
 
 science, and the contempt of your 
 friends are more painful than any chas- 
 tisement I could inflict. May this ter- 
 rible lesson be useful to you, and learn, 
 my children, that a fault, however well 
 concealed it may be, is sooner or later 
 discovered.' 
 
 " Mrs. Montfort left the room, and 
 returning a few minutes afterwards, took 
 Agues in her arms and tenderly em- 
 braced her, saying : ' I cannot express 
 to you, my dear child, the pleasure your 
 conduct has given me. You understand 
 now so perfectly the advantages which 
 result from a strict adherence to the 
 truth, that I need not repeat them. 
 Preserve, my love, the same integrity in 
 all the actions of your life, and in being 
 happy you will make others so, and be- 
 come an ornament to society.' 
 
 " She then took the crown of roses
 
 SECOND EVENING. 41 
 
 and proclaimed Agnes the queen of the 
 feast, and fastened around her waist a 
 blue ribbon, on which her name was 
 hastily but distinctly embroidered. 
 
 "The day passed in pleasure, and 
 Caroline felt her grief lessen, as she 
 witnessed the efforts of her little sister 
 to dissipate her melancholy. I will only 
 add that Agnes became as amiable a 
 woman as she had been a child, and 
 Caroline, never forgetting the terrible 
 lesson, became, like her sister, a model 
 of goodness. .
 
 I 
 
 r N this evening Miss On- 
 Jj slow proposed to relate 
 >me short stories which 
 she had translated from the 
 French, for the amusement 
 and instruction of her little 
 scholars. She began with the story of 
 Annette and Richard. 
 
 "Annette and Richard were the child- 
 ren of a poor laborer. Having lost 
 their parents when very young, they re- 
 solved to go to the nearest city to gain 
 a livelihood. Richard, who was twelve 
 years old, intended to carry messages
 
 THIRD EVENING. 43 
 
 for those who would employ him. An- 
 nette, who was much younger, desired 
 also to work, but she did not know ex- 
 actly in what way. It is worthy of re- 
 mark that in this melancholy situation 
 these poor children never thought of 
 begging their bread. An interior voice 
 whispered that it would be shameful to 
 beg, when they had youth, health and 
 strength. Nature frequently gives an 
 elevated soul and excellent heart to the 
 most obscure. 
 
 "Without luggage, provisions or 
 money, these children started for the 
 city. Night overtook them in the forest ; 
 they crouched under a tree and fell 
 asleep in the calm of innocence and 
 poverty ; for, after having gathered some 
 wild fruits to appease their hunger, they 
 had no other inquietude. The next 
 morning they had yet twenty-one miles
 
 
 44 COTTAGE EVENING TALES. 
 
 to go. Richard, who had slept well, felt 
 refreshed and active, but Annette was 
 fatigued. This last part of their jour- 
 ney, though most fi equented, was barren 
 and unfruitful for our little travelers. 
 Neither fruit nor any kind of roots 
 could they discover to refresh themselves 
 with, and they were very hungry. 
 Nothing would have tempted them to 
 enter any of the houses situated on the 
 roadside, and if they saw anybody they 
 looked timidly at them, and continued 
 their journey in silence. 
 
 "At last overcome by hunger, thirst 
 and weariness, Annette began to weep ;. 
 Richard consoled her as well as he could 
 took her on his back and carried her 
 several miles ; but, at length exhausted 
 by his fatigue, he fell on the ground 
 with his burden. The courageous child 
 rose without murmuring, and again
 
 THIRD EVENING. 45 
 
 endeavored to carry his sister, but it 
 was impossible. They were but a short 
 distance from a beautiful castle, the 
 owner of which, generally absent, had 
 arrived at it about an hour before. The 
 keeper, occupied in the different apart- 
 ments, had left all the doors open ; the 
 master was walking in the garden, 
 whilst his people were preparing an ex- 
 cellent repast. 
 
 " Struck by the beauty and splendid 
 appearance of the castle, the children 
 approached, and in gazing at this mag- 
 nificent abode, partly forgot their sor- 
 rows. Seeing nobody they took cour- 
 age ; from the hall they entered the 
 dining-room. There large open side- 
 boards showed pyramids of superb fruit, 
 sweetmeats and wines of every sort. 
 The children remained to examine this 
 excellent dessert, but, as self-denying as
 
 46 COTTAGE EVENING TALES. 
 
 they were honest, they did not attempt 
 to approach it. Richard only wished 
 his sister had a little of the clear water 
 that sparkled in the glass pitcher. 
 Whilst examining these objects, so en- 
 tirely new to them, they perceived near 
 the place where they stood, a basket 
 filled with rolls ; Annette pushed Rich- 
 ard and pointed to it. He, fearing with- 
 out doubt, that extreme hunger might 
 cause his sister to take one, seized her 
 by the arm and drew her from the room 
 the poor little child fell fainting in 
 the doorway. 
 
 "But the owner of the house had fol- 
 lowed the children without their per- 
 ceiving him. Witness of their delicacy 
 and extreme honesty, he felt interested 
 in them ; and was thinking of the means 
 to be useful to them, when Annette's 
 accident decided him to call for help.
 
 THIRD EVENING. 47 
 
 They soon recovered her, and the frank 
 and simple narrative of their misfor- 
 tunes made such an impression on the 
 humane gentleman that questioned them, 
 that he took them under his protection 
 and provided for their welfare." 
 
 The next story was called " Michael ; 
 or, God Punishes Disobedience." 
 
 "Mathurine frequently said to her 
 son: 'Beware, Michael, of ever taking 
 anything from the orchard of our neigh- 
 bor, Father Blaise ; for the great God 
 will punish you.' ' 
 
 "Now Mathurine knew that Michael 
 had not his equal in disobedience. She, 
 therefore, tried to inspire him with the 
 fear of God ; for he did not fear her at 
 all; besides, he was much oftener run- 
 ning in the fields than quiet at home. 
 
 " Michael did not touch the trees of 
 Father Blaise during all that spring,
 
 48 COTTAGE EVENING TALES. 
 
 and that was something gained ; he did 
 not always wait for the fruits to ripen 
 before he ate them; they perceived that 
 in his mother's garden the apple, pear 
 and plum trees were stripped before 
 their fruits were fairly grown. Michael 
 would not, perhaps, have taken any- 
 thing in his neighbor's orchard but for 
 a peculiar circumstance. He was very 
 fond of cherries, and there were none 
 in his own garden, but to make amends 
 the garden of Blaise was full of them. 
 " Michael passed and repassed inces- 
 santly before those large red cherries, to 
 have the pleasure of gazing at them. 
 What a pity to be confined to simply 
 look at the tempting fruit ! he could 
 easily climb the wall of the garden, 
 stretch out his arm, then take a handful 
 of cherries this could be so quickly 
 done ! Father Blaise would not see him
 
 THIRD EVENING. 49 
 
 he would not miss. But the great 
 God will punish him his mother has 
 said. Bah! that is only a fable; my 
 mother said so only to frighten me ! 
 
 " Thus spoke Michael. Such is always 
 the language of wicked children, who 
 respect neither father nor mother; so 
 the great God forsakes them. 
 
 "Gluttony and disobedience then drove 
 Michael to steal the cherries of his neigh- 
 bor. At the close of the day he crept 
 along the wall, climbed it in two bounds, 
 and was in the tree. If he had followed 
 his first thought and taken only a hand- 
 ful of cherries Ij. haste, perhaps he would 
 have left the tree safe and sound ; but 
 to punish him, God permitted that after 
 having remained in it a long time eat- 
 ing cherries, he must yet fill his pockets. 
 "Now, there were some sportsmen in 
 the fields. As they were returning one
 
 50 C01TAGE EVENING TALES. 
 
 of them perceived a rabbit very near 
 Blaise's garden, and he shot at it. It 
 was exactly under the spot where Mi- 
 chael was. The little boy was so terri- 
 fied that he fell like one dead, at the 
 foot of the tree. Blaise, hearing the 
 noise, hastened to the place, thinking he 
 should find some game in his enclosure. 
 At the sight of Michael, without con- 
 sciousness, he drew back; he believed 
 him $ead. Having recovered him, he 
 conducted him home. The appearance 
 of Michael, pale and haggard, dis- 
 tressed his mother, but she soon under- 
 stood that he had been more frightened 
 than hurt. 
 
 "When they were alone, Mathurine 
 said to her son: 'Michael, will you 
 ever again steal cherries from Father 
 Blaise ?' 
 
 " ' Oh ! no, my mother," he replied ;
 
 THIRD EVENING. 51 
 
 'the great God has indeed punished 
 me, as you have often said ; I promise 
 never again to disobey you.' 
 
 " Michael kept his word, and he did 
 well." 
 
 Miss Onslow then related the story of 
 "The Nuremberg Doll." 
 
 "Imagine to yourselves, dear child- 
 ren, a parlor somewhat in confusion ; a 
 trunk is in the middle of the room, and 
 a lady, seated by it, draws out one article 
 after another. This lady has just re- 
 turned home. On the other side of the 
 trunk stands a pretty little girl, with 
 dark curly hair and rosy cheeks. Her 
 eyes sparkle like diamonds as she gazes 
 on the trunk with an air of expectation 
 she is waiting to see what her mother 
 has brought her. 
 
 "Suddenly the mother stops and kiss- 
 ing her daughter, says: 'Louisa, you
 
 52 COTTAGE EVENING TALES. 
 
 know a little of geography. Do you know 
 where Nuremberg is ?' 
 
 " 'Nuremberg, a city of Germany,' 
 replied Louisa, in the tone of a parrot ; 
 ' they preserve in the church of the hos- 
 pital the ornaments that are used in the 
 coronation of Emperors ; all Europe is 
 filled with the little works of Nurem- 
 berg.' Here the roguish Louisa quitted 
 the monotonous tone she had com- 
 menced with to give a certain emphasis 
 to her words ' the artists are skillful in 
 fabricating the most beautiful toys for 
 children.' 
 
 "Here Madam e-de Merval interrupted 
 her by taking from the trunk a charm- 
 ing little doll not very little either it 
 was twelve inches in height. Its dress 
 was black, trimmed with gold cord and 
 bows of black satin ribbon, long sleeves 
 down to the wrist, and a black lace cap.
 
 THIRD EVENING. 53 
 
 A short robe over the dress was trimmed 
 with black lace and gold flowers ; on ita 
 head was a wreath of gold flowers that 
 trembled at every movement. 
 
 " Oh, how joyfully Louisa thanked her 
 mother for such a charming doll. 
 
 " 'I wish, Louisa,' said Madame de 
 Merval, as she placed it in her hand, 'I 
 wish this doll to stand always on the 
 mantel-piece by the side of your bed; 
 she is named like yourself; you will 
 look at her every morning and evening; 
 you will consult her, for she is a good 
 counsellor; she is not curious, and al- 
 ways says her prayers. You will be 
 careful not to take her off" the stand, for 
 she would no longer be pretty.' 
 
 " At this moment the doll extended her 
 arms, folded them together, and made 
 such a pretty salutation to Louisa that 
 she was near letting her fall, through 
 astonishment.
 
 54 COTTAGE EVENING TALES. 
 
 " 'Well, Louisa, you admired just now 
 only her beauty ; you see that there is 
 something better than that in her tal- 
 ent and goodness. She is your little 
 friend, and yet you will not always love 
 her, because she will tell you the truth 
 without disguise.' 
 
 "Louisa carried the precious doll to her 
 chamber, and looked at her until night. 
 She expected another salutation, but the 
 doll did not make it until Louisa was in 
 bed. She soon fell asleep, and did not 
 awaken until her mother came to em- 
 brace her for the last time and to look 
 if the doll was still whole. She turned 
 it every way, and at length placed it 
 again by the side of Louisa's bed. 
 
 " The writer of the story goes on to 
 say, I request my young friends to be- 
 lieve that I relate only what I have wit- 
 nessed for it is that only which gives
 
 THIRD EVENING. 55 
 
 a little value to this history. "What 
 would childish things, invented by my- 
 self, be worth? Besides, I am incapable 
 of it. Thus I shall not, on my own 
 authority, say that Louisa, good and 
 amiable otherwise, sometimes forgot her 
 prayers or her reading, and had an ex- 
 treme curiosity ; these would be calum- 
 nies from which I should guard myself. 
 I should neither have any merit in say- 
 ing, without it was so, that the name of 
 Louisa had degenerated into a genteel 
 diminutive, and that generally she w r as 
 called Loulou. They called her Loulou 
 when she had been discreet, studious 
 and industrious and Madame de Mer- 
 val having presented the doll as a very 
 sensible doll, she was named Loulou. 
 There was a learned old man, a friend 
 of the family, who told Louisa one day 
 that, in the Arabic language, Loulou sig- 
 nified pearl, and she was much pleased.
 
 56 COTTAGE EVENING TALES. 
 
 " She had then slept near her Loulou 
 without awakening, but not without 
 seeing her in a fine dream, which only- 
 ended at daylight with sleep. Imme- 
 diately she jumped out of bed and flew 
 towards her sister Loulou, her well- 
 beloved. This was her first thought, 
 but wonderful ! Behold, Loulou half 
 closes her eyes, joins her two hands, 
 bends and kneels, just as if she had 
 said: 'Miss Louisa you have forgotten 
 your prayers; you must think of God 
 and your mother before you think of 
 me.' 
 
 "Louisa, scarcely recovered from her 
 astonishment, said her prayers and went 
 to relate to her mother, in a tone of 
 rapture, what had happened. She went 
 to own her fault with candor ; she had 
 repaired it; and the feeling of being 
 corrected renders one so content with 
 one's self.
 
 THIRD EVENING. 57 
 
 "I must, however, interrupt my story, 
 to mention a circumstance that you have 
 no doubt already divined. The Nurem- 
 berg doll was cm springs. Madame de 
 Merval, in passing through that city on 
 her way to Venice, had conceived the 
 idea of ordering the most able artizan 
 to make a mechanical doll, of the differ- 
 ent movements, by which lessons might 
 be given to her child, whose faults she 
 knew; she had wound up the doll that 
 she might kneel, for she foresaw that 
 Louisa would forget her prayers. There 
 were in the pedestal as many impercept- 
 ible holes as were necessary to wind up 
 the different movements of the doll; 
 and you understand that Madame de 
 Merval had only to come every even- 
 ing, and having observed the conduct 
 of Louisa during the day, wind up the 
 springs. She had been constrained to
 
 58 COTTAGE EVENING TALES. 
 
 adopt this means of correcting her 
 daughter, as if the words of a tender 
 mother ought not to be more powerful 
 than anything else in the world. 
 
 " The day passed well, hecause it had 
 begun well; and after having contem- 
 plated, with admiration and a sort of re- 
 spect, the graceful Loulou, Louisa went 
 to bed contentedly, and slept so well 
 that her mother could kiss without 
 awakening her; and it was only w T hen 
 the rising sun shone on her eyelids that 
 she was aroused. Scarcely out of bed, 
 this time, she fell on her knees and 
 prayed with all her heart for her mother. 
 Children would never fail to pray for 
 their mother if they knew what bles- 
 sings their voices draw down on their 
 families. "When she had finished, she 
 had her reward. Loulou was content 
 with her, and began to dance with joy;
 
 THIRD EVENING. 59 
 
 and the gold flowers that covered her 
 head trembled and glittered in the sun- 
 beams. Louisa ran directly, out of 
 breath, joyful and wondering, to relate 
 the miracle to her mother, who tenderly 
 embraced her. The day passed thus 
 well and praiseworthily, under the in- 
 fluence of the Nuremberg doll. It was 
 wonderful. Louisa was discreet, obe- 
 dient; and it would have been perfect^ 
 if she had oftener thought of her books 
 and piano. 
 
 "Now one day, as usual, the second 
 thought of Louisa had been for her 
 Loulou; and, looking at her very ten- 
 derly, she perceived her little fingers 
 running, one after another, as upon the 
 key-board of a piano. It was a finger- 
 ing so light and graceful that one almpst 
 expected delightful sounds, and listened 
 in silence. Then the hands of Loulou
 
 60 COTTAGE EVENING TALES. 
 
 stopped and took out of the pocket of 
 her dress a little book, and the doll 
 fixed her eyes upon it as if she read 
 attentively. Madame de Mental per- 
 ceived during the day that JLoulou had 
 done her duty well, for her daughter 
 was delightfully studious and attentive; 
 and this result was of long duration, so 
 that her mother was quite happy. 
 
 "But she yet desired to see Louisa 
 cease to he curious. The little girl 
 would search about in every direction, 
 read in every book, and her mother had 
 seen her listening at the doors. This is 
 almost as odious a fault in a child as 
 lying, because it leads to falsehoods ; 
 and then it is very unworthy, for it is 
 an abuse of confidence. Madame de 
 Mejval resolved to punish her for it a 
 little severely. One day she caught her 
 reading a letter half opening it, to see
 
 THIRD EVENING. 61 
 
 if it was an invitation to a dance and, 
 by the way, Louisa was punished even 
 by her curiosity, in learning that the 
 dance was not to be given ; her mother 
 invited two or three of her little friends 
 to pass the day with her. You under- 
 stand that Loulou was at her post. 
 Already Louisa, the little mistress of 
 the house, had done the honors towards 
 her doll, by relating the fine things she 
 did. 
 
 " l In short, would you believe that she 
 sees all I do ; and that she dances when 
 I do well, and gives me lessons when I 
 do ill. She always tells the truth ; she 
 is never deceived ; she divines all ; she 
 knows all.' 
 
 "Whilst Louisa was thus praising her 
 she did not perceive that Loulou began 
 to be animated ; she stretched her neck 
 as if to listen, and then she drew from
 
 62 COTTAGE EVENING TALES. 
 
 her pocket a letter, and opening it, 
 seemed to read. The little girls laughed 
 outright, while Louisa said, in a low tone, 
 'Naughty Doll! she has not seen me 
 do it, notwithstanding.' 
 
 " 'Ah ! ah ! Louisa, she tells the truth 
 you listen, then, at doors ? You read 
 letters secretly? Oh! that is very ugly.' 
 
 "And Louisa, who had already hi ushed 
 at the movements of her doll, blushed 
 yet more at the reproaches of her com- 
 panions but this blush was not so much 
 from repentance as from anger, and she 
 determined to be revenged on the doll 
 which had caused such a scene ; she 
 seized her abruptly, and without doubt, 
 was going to break her to pieces, say- 
 ing, with anger, ' It is not true, young 
 ladies; she is a liar.' She held the doll 
 by her head and feet, as if to break her 
 in two, while her little friends begged
 
 THIRD EVENING. 63 
 
 her to spare Loulou. All at once her 
 mother entered and looked very sternly 
 at Louisa, who, very much confused, 
 replaced the doll on the mantel-piece. 
 
 "'Ah! Louisa,' said she, 'you wished 
 to get rid of looks which both observed 
 and warned you ; you could never suc- 
 ceed, my child, for besides the vigilant 
 eye of your mother, there is One above 
 whom your little hands could never 
 reach. Come here :* I wish for your only 
 punishment to show you what you were 
 going to destroy, and you will repent 
 and be ashamed of your anger.' 
 
 "Madame de Merval then took the 
 doll, opened the pedestal where the 
 springs were, and wound it up, 'see, 
 young ladies. And the springs played 
 charmingly, and the doll danced. The 
 children were delighted. 
 
 " ' See, my Louisa, the secret of the
 
 64 COTTAGE EVENING TALES. 
 
 lessons given you by Loulou. It ia the 
 work of man, where there is neither 
 wonder nor miracle. It was always 
 myself, who, after having watched your 
 faults through the day, recalled them to 
 you next morning by means of these 
 springs. Now I give you the key. The 
 doll has commenced your reformation, 
 but every evening wind her up, that she 
 may recall to you what you should avoid 
 in future. You listened to her rather 
 than to me, because you did not com- 
 prehend the mystery; at present it 
 is nothing more than play. In future, 
 never listen to any advice but from your 
 mother.' 
 
 " The mother and child embraced each 
 other, and the day finished joyfully." 
 
 Miss Onslow's little pupils weiji 
 delighted with this story, and repaid her 
 for the trouble she had taken by pro- 
 mising to try and profit by it.
 
 ^ 
 
 IT was Mrs. Grenville's turn on 
 this evening to relate some story. 
 She had lately observed in her 
 j 3 little daughter a disposition to 
 "put off" doing anything until 
 some other time; for her instruction, 
 therefore, as well as of others who 
 might have the same fault, she began as 
 follows : 
 
 " I do not like Charlotte Morley, be- 
 cause she tells everything she hears," 
 said Josephine Alton to her governess. 
 "I should be sorry to resemble her." 
 
 " That is a very great fault in Char- 
 lotte," replied Miss Rosalie, "but before 
 (65)
 
 66 COTTAGE EVENING TALES. 
 
 you judge her you should remember that 
 you have as great a fault, and " 
 
 " And pray what is that great fault ?" 
 asked Josephine saucily, " I suppose you 
 are harping on the old tune of ' coming 
 directly.' " 
 
 "'And is not procrastination a great 
 fault ? Do you not lose time by not 
 doing things at the proper moment and 
 subject yourself and others to great in- 
 convenience ? A few days ago, for in- 
 stance, your mother told you to go down 
 to the parlor and tell a visitor she was 
 too much indisposed to see any body, 
 you said, ' directly, mamma,' but did not 
 go for nearly half an hour, and the vis- 
 itor had gone away much offended that 
 nobody came to receive her.' 
 
 " 'But I had forgotten what mamma 
 said.' 
 
 " 'Simply because you did not go at
 
 FOUltTH EVENING. t>7 
 
 the moment she told you; but amused 
 yourself by playing on the staircase with 
 your kitten.' 
 
 " ' Mamma, however, did not think 
 that such a great fault ' 
 
 " ' Because she has been absent from 
 you nearly two years, and does not know 
 you as I do ; she supposed it was only 
 from the thoughtlessness of a child ; but 
 I know, from sad experience, that it is 
 a pernicious habit you have contracted, 
 and which I have, as yet, vainly endeav- 
 ored to correct. If you do not overcome 
 this fault, believe me, it will finally make 
 both yourself and others miserable.' 
 
 " 'Oh ! Miss Rosalie, you are certainly 
 related to the frog family for you are 
 always croaking;' and with this imper- 
 tinent speech, the naughty child flounced 
 out of the room. 
 
 " Mrs. Alton had but recently returned
 
 68 COTTAGE EVENING TALES. 
 
 from Italy, whither she had gone with 
 her husband, whose declining health 
 rendered such a change necessary ; but 
 he had died there, and she had come 
 back, in sadness, to meet her orphan 
 child, whom she had left under the care 
 of her venerable grandfather and of Miss 
 Rosalie, who was every way qualified for 
 the important task. Josephine had fewer 
 faults than most children of her age, (she 
 was ten years old,) but a tendency to put 
 off everything she was told to do had 
 manifested itself, and considering the ex- 
 cellent management of her governess, it 
 was a wonder she had not overcome such 
 a fault. When the hour of study arrived, 
 Miss Rosalie always took her by the 
 hand, and led her to the school-room 
 If they were going to walk she gave her 
 to understand, that if not ready-dressed 
 at the same moment with herself, she
 
 FOURTH EVENING. 69 
 
 must remain at home and study her les- 
 sons for the next day ; and in everything 
 else she pursued, the same method. 
 But she had lately discovered that, ow- 
 ing to the extreme fondness of Mr. 
 Alton for his grand-daughter, he only 
 smiled and humored her when she 
 would answer * directly, grandpapa,' 
 without doing what was required of her; 
 and she, therefore, resolved to acquaint 
 Mrs. Alton with this growing fault in 
 Josephine. Mrs. Alton saw the necessi- 
 ty of co-operating with her governess in 
 the task of reforming her daughter, and 
 after repeated trials to convince herself 
 that it was really procrastination, and 
 not mere forgetfulness, she agreed with 
 Miss Rosalie as to the plan they should 
 pursue. Old Mr. Alton had gone to 
 spend a few months with an aged friend, 
 and they took advantage of his absence.
 
 70 COTTAGE EVENING TALES. 
 
 " Mrs. Alton invited Charlotte to 
 spend the clay, whilst Josephine and she 
 were playing in 'the garden. Miss Ro- 
 salie called the former to come immedi- 
 ately to her mother, who wanted her for 
 something particular. 
 
 " 'Directly, Miss Rosalie,' she replied, 
 but continued playing with her doll. 
 
 " Half an hour afterwards, Charlotte 
 said : 'are you not going to your mother ? 
 She will be angry at your staying so 
 long. I never stop a moment when 
 mother calls me.' 
 
 " ' Oh ! mamma never expects me 
 to come in an instant ; it is only Miss 
 Rosalie, who is always in a flurry. I 
 dare say I am not wanted for anything 
 so very particular however, I will go 
 and see.' 
 
 " She soon returned pouting, and said, 
 ' mother had wished us both to go and
 
 FOURTH EVENING. 71 
 
 ride in an omnibus that was passing by, 
 but as we did not come, and the driver 
 would not wait, she went without us. I 
 do believe,' she continued, 'it is all 
 owing to Miss Rosalie, who had hurried 
 mamma away because I said directly, 
 and did not come. She said the other 
 day I would sooner or later be punished 
 for saying that word so often without 
 putting it in practice. She is a mean 
 creature to make mamma go without 
 us.' 
 
 "' "Well,' answered Charlotte, 'I am 
 also punished by it for I have lost a 
 pleasant ride. You had better break 
 yourself of that bad habit, Josephine.' 
 
 " * Mind your own faults and do not 
 meddle with mine,' said Josephine an- 
 grily I get enough schooling from 
 Miss Rosalie. I wish grandpapa was at 
 home, and I should have somebody to 
 take my part.'
 
 72 COTTAGE EVENING TALES. 
 
 " The remainder of the day was spent 
 in ill-humor on both sides. "When Jo- 
 sephine attempted to bring on a conver- 
 sation about the ride, her mother answer- 
 ed coldly, 'disobedience and idleness 
 always bring their punishment.' 
 
 " The next day Miss Rosalie went to 
 see Mrs. Morley on business, and Char- 
 lotte repeated every word Josephine had 
 said the day before, adding, that procras- 
 tination was a dreadful defect. 
 
 "Miss Rosalie said, 'I am surprised 
 my pupil should have uttered such ex- 
 pressions concerning me, and I am still 
 more surprised, Miss Charlotte, that you 
 should take pleasure in repeating them. 
 It is true this is a great fault in our 
 dear Josephine, but, at the same time, 
 it is not more pernicious than that of re- 
 peating everything we hear.' 
 . "'Come here, Josephine,' said Mrs.
 
 FOURTH EVENING. 73 
 
 Alton; 'your governess tells me you 
 spoke very disrespectfully and unjustly 
 of her to Charlotte. I am much dis- 
 pleased, for I have always impressed on 
 your mind the necessity of treating Miss 
 Rosalie with as much respect as you 
 would your mother. I have said you 
 spoke unjustly of her, because so far 
 from influencing me regarding the ride, 
 I chose to punish you, and I saw a tear 
 in her eye at your being thus punished.' 
 
 " ' But, mamma, Charlotte need not 
 have told tales, it is a shocking habit 
 she has. I forgot it when 1 spoke before 
 her.' 
 
 " ' You can see her fault, my dear 
 child, but you do not see your own, or 
 if you are sensible of it you let it pass 
 without condemnation. Had you come 
 to me the moment Miss Rosalie called 
 you, you would have had a pleasant
 
 74 COTTAGE EVENING TALES. 
 
 ride. You would not have said all this to 
 Charlotte, offending your excellent in- 
 structress and friend and done all this 
 by saying one word which expressed a 
 falsehood. Because when you said, I 
 will come directly, you did not mean to 
 move, nor would perhaps have come at 
 all if Charlotte had not reminded you 
 of it. It is a serious thing to offend our 
 parents or friends, but do you not think 
 it a much more serious thing to offend 
 God ?' 
 
 "'Yes, mamma; but in what have I 
 offended God? By speaking unjustly of 
 my governess?' 
 
 " 'God has appointed a time for every- 
 thing ; and, therefore, when you did not 
 obey my orders you did not fulfil the 
 commands of God, who requires you to 
 obey your parents. You came, it is true, 
 but it was not at the time He had ap-
 
 FOURTH EVENING. 75 
 
 pointed. Then by using that word you 
 told a falsehood, for you did not come 
 ducctly. You were unjust, and besides, 
 deprived your companion of a pleasure. 
 So you have lost time* and have disobe- 
 dience, falsehood, injustice and ill-humor 
 to accuse yourself of.' 
 
 " Josephine acknowledged her faults, 
 and for some weeks seemed amended 
 but it required severe trials to cure her 
 really and forever. 
 
 "One morning early Mrs. Alton went 
 to spend the day at her cousin's, and 
 told Josephine she would send for her 
 during the day, as it was but a mile and 
 an agreeable walk. Now it happened 
 that Josephine did not particularly like 
 her mother's cousin, and would rather 
 have stayed at home, so she resolved 
 not to hurry when she was sent for. 
 Josephine had forgotten her late pro-
 
 76 COTTAtiE EVENING TALES. 
 
 mises of obedience and resolutions to do 
 every thing at the appointed time; and, 
 therefore, she neglected to have her tasks 
 completed and her dress arranged at the 
 hour specified by f her mother. About 
 three hours after Mrs. Alton's departure 
 a man on horseback rode furiously up to 
 the door and told Josephine she must 
 set out instantly for Mrs. Elwood's ; 
 he added, ' hurry, dear Miss, for she is 
 much hurt,' and, without further expla- 
 nation, rode off* in an opposite direction. 
 "Josephine did not pay much attention 
 to his concluding words, supposing they 
 meant that Mrs. Elwood was hurt or dis- 
 pleased at her not coming with her 
 mother. She, therefore, according to her 
 old habit, loitered for an hour, and even 
 stopped on the road to watch butterflies 
 and grasshoppers. When she arrived at 
 Mrs. Ellwood's, she was much surprised
 
 FOURTH EVENING. 77 
 
 to find the parlor vacant, and no appear- 
 ance of any one about the premises. 
 There seemed to be a confusion up- 
 stairs, but she was too much of a stranger 
 to go up unannounced. At that mo- 
 ment, Dr. Denby alighted from his 
 carriage and went up the staircase. 
 Poor Josephine began to feel uneasy, 
 and tremblingly followed him ; but what 
 a sight met her view her mother was 
 stretched on a sofa, apparently dead. 
 
 " ' Oh ! tell me what has happened,' 
 she exclaimed. 
 
 " ' Your mother was thrown from the 
 carriage, has been insensible ever since, 
 and we fear will never recover,' replied 
 Mrs. Elwood, weeping. 
 
 "The doctor ordered every one to 
 leave the room, except the necessary 
 attendants, and Mrs. Elwood drew the 
 poor unhappy child from the distressing
 
 78 ' COTTAGE EVENING TALES. 
 
 scene. I will not attempt to describe 
 the grief of Josephine, or the remorse 
 she felt at having lingered after receiv- 
 ing the message. It was some time 
 before Mrs. Elwood understood what 
 had caused the accident, for in her dis- 
 tress she had not particularly inquired. 
 But when at last Josephine heard that 
 the axle-tree of the carriage had broken, 
 she exclaimed, 'I have killed my pre- 
 cious mother!' and in heart rending 
 tones, she related the following : 
 
 "'Mamma had, early this morning, 
 desired me to tell the coachman she had 
 observed a crack in the axle-tree, and to 
 send her word if he thought it safe 
 enough to go as far as Mrs. Elwood's. 
 I answered, * directly, mamma,' and left 
 the room for that purpose ; but I stopped 
 in the -library to get a book I had left 
 there, and began to read and entirely
 
 FOURTH EVENING. 79 
 
 forgot the message. I suppose mamma 
 thought I had executed her orders, as 
 the carriage was brought to the door, 
 and as she did' not ask the coachman 
 anything about it, I never thought 
 about it either. But did the axle-tree 
 really break ?' she inquired eagerly, c or 
 was she only thrown from the carriage 
 by the horses running away ?' 
 
 " ; The axle-tree broke whilst going 
 down the hill, and the horses became 
 frightened and upset the carriage, 
 throwing your mother against the stump 
 of a tree.' 
 
 "At that moment, Mrs. Elwood was 
 summoned to attend the doctor, and 
 Josephine was left to consider the con- 
 sequence of her fault of procrastination. 
 After a considerable time, which was 
 almost insupportable to the poor child, 
 Mrs. Elwood came and silently conduct-
 
 80 COTTAGE EVENING TALES. 
 
 ed her to the couch of her mother, who 
 had now recovered her faculties, but 
 was so much bruised and her ankle 
 sprained besides, that she would be for 
 some weeks a prisoner in that chamber. 
 The doctor pronounced her out of dan- 
 ger, as he could not perceive there was 
 any internal injury. Josephine fell on 
 her knees and thanked God that her 
 parent had not died through her fault. 
 
 " ' Can you forgive me, dear mother?' 
 she sobbed. Her mother embraced her 
 but was not able to speak. 
 
 "Mrs. Elwood had a chapel in the 
 house, dedicated to the Blessed Mother 
 of God, and thither Josephine went, and 
 throwing herself before a beautiful sta- 
 tue of the Holy Virgin, she prayed: 
 
 " ' Sweet Mother ! I am a poor, mise- 
 rable child I have nearly caused the 
 death of my parent by my fault have
 
 FOURTH EVENING. 81 
 
 compassion on me, and offer 'the prayer 
 I am about to make to thy Beloved Sou, 
 my Redeemer, that I may obtain pardon, 
 and grace, and strength never again to 
 offend wilfully by those faults which I 
 have too long indulged. Oh, my God ! 
 Father, Son and Holy Ghost, one God ! 
 have mercy on me, and teach me how 
 to walk in thy commandments.' 
 
 " Mrs. Alton recovered, and returned 
 home about the time that her venerable 
 father did. Josephine related all that 
 had passed, and he only loved her the 
 more, now that she had no faults at 
 least they were triflng ones, for she 
 < never relapsed into her habit of pro- 
 crastination, and even turned pale when 
 she heard the word directly uttered by 
 any one. She was soon after permitted 
 to make her first communion, and be- 
 came eminent for her virtues, and devo-
 
 82 COTTAGE EVENING TALES. 
 
 tion to the Blessed Virgin, whose name 
 she also bore." 
 
 "Now, my dear little friends, I hope 
 that any of you who are subject to the 
 fault of procrastination, or the putting 
 oft' to another moment what should be 
 done at once, will take warning by Jo- 
 sephine, and, like her, ask for grace to 
 amend a fault which will certainly make, 
 not only yourself, but others also 
 wretched perhaps for life, and drive you 
 from God."
 
 Industry and Obedience. 
 
 o gratify those among the 
 children who liked long sto- 
 ries, Miss Onslow, on this 
 evening, related the follow- 
 ing : 
 
 " The evening sun had just cast a last 
 golden ray on the surrounding objects, 
 as Mrs. Manners and her son entered a 
 romantic pathway leading to the neigh- 
 boring village. Their residence was 
 about a mile distant, and they had only 
 arrived the day before, having been 
 (83)
 
 84 COTTAGE EVENING TALES. 
 
 traveling for more than a year on ac- 
 count of the health of her aged father, 
 lie had departed this world as a sincere 
 follower of the Cross, about a month 
 previous, and she had therefore returned 
 to her home, sad but resigned. 
 
 " She was comparing the lingering 
 beams of the sun to the dying smiles of 
 her venerated and Christian parent, 
 when, as they passed a lonely cottage by 
 the wayside, she heard sounds of lament- 
 ation. She paused, uncertain whether 
 to inquire into the evident distress of 
 the inmate, a feeble voice exclaimed : 
 ' Oh, my son ! where art thou ? Holy 
 Mother, protect my poor boy!' These 
 words decided Mrs. Manners, and she 
 entered the cottage, followed by Felix. 
 A few kind inquiries soon unfolded the 
 history of the widow who inhabited it. 
 
 "Her only son, who was the only
 
 FIFTH EVENING. 85 
 
 solace left her in this vale of tears, and 
 who was indeed her only support, had 
 departed early in the morning to receive 
 some wages due to him from a farmer 
 about five miles distant ; he had pro- 
 mised to return in time to partake of 
 their scanty dinner ; it was now nearly 
 night and he was yet absent. She said 
 that some wicked youths of the village 
 had tried to corrupt her beloved Felix, 
 and associate him in their iniquitous 
 courses ; but he feared God, and loved 
 his mother, and she had never known 
 him to do anything that could cause 
 remorse or grieve her that his love for 
 his parent was only surpassed by his love 
 for God. She knew that there was a 
 short route to the farmer's over a dan- 
 gerous and unused bridge, though per- 
 sons on foot frequently went over it in 
 safety ; and a poor idiot boy had some
 
 86 COTTAGE EVENING TALES. 
 
 hours ago entered the cottage, and whis- 
 pered in her ear : ' the "bridge, the bridge, 
 beware, beware ! for there are vultures 
 waiting there ! And, madam,' added 
 she, 'I fear those wicked boys have 
 there waylaid my child, for he would 
 never have stayed this long without 
 some accident.' 
 
 "Mr%. Manners said she would in- 
 stantly send in search of him, and dis- 
 patched her son with orders to the stew- 
 ard to go with some of her people and 
 make every possible inquiry. She de- 
 sired Felix to return to the cottage 
 after he had given his message, for she 
 intended to remain with the widow, who 
 was named Mrs. Truely. 
 
 "A strange sympathy drew them tow- 
 ards each other ; both were widows, and 
 their sons named Felix ; but there was 
 a difference between the two boys, if
 
 FIFTH EVENING. 87 
 
 Felix Truely was such as his mother 
 described him. Felix Manners was in- 
 telligent and had a good heart, but his 
 better qualities were obscured by idle- 
 ness, selfishness, disobedience and a cul- 
 pable neglect of his religious duties. 
 Having given the necessary orders, he 
 returned. He felt much interested iu 
 the widow and her son, and had, there- 
 fore, no inclination to disobey his mother. 
 "A footstep was soon after heard, and 
 Felix Truely rushed into his mother's 
 arms. I will not attempt to describe 
 her joy at again beholding him. He 
 related that the kind farmer had begged 
 him to execute a commission, which had 
 detained him some hours longer than 
 he had anticipated, and had given him 
 in return a basket of cakes, sweetmeats, 
 and other varieties; as he left the place 
 the idiot boy had met him and whis-
 
 88 COTTAGE EVENING TALES. 
 
 pered, * The bridge, the bridge ! be- 
 ware, beware !' that knowing the affec- 
 tion of the poor unfortunate, and believ- 
 ing some danger to await him there, he 
 had returned by the longer and more 
 frequented route through the village. 
 As he concluded his narrative, the men 
 who had gone in search of him entered, 
 leading in a boy whom they had found 
 in the garden and who was. weeping bit- 
 terly. Felix recognized him as one of 
 those who had endeavored to lure him 
 from the path of virtue, and he asked 
 him why he wept. The boy owned that 
 he had followed him, had seen the farm- 
 er give him the basket, and had deter- 
 mined to waylay and rob him of it at 
 the bridge, which, being roofed and 
 covered at the sides, was quite dark in 
 many places, and he would not know 
 who stopped him. But whilst he awaited
 
 FIFTH EVENING. 89 
 
 the coming of Felix at the entrance, a 
 horse galloped furiously on the bridge, 
 and, dashing against him, threw him 
 into the stream. As he could swim, he 
 found his way to the opposite bank with 
 some difficulty and clambered up the 
 side of it but, struck with his punish- 
 ment and escape from death, and remorse 
 for the crime he had meditated, he re- 
 solved to come to the cottage, own his 
 wickedness, and resolving never again 
 to return to his former evil ways, he 
 begged forgiveness and their advice how 
 to do better in the future, Mrs. Man- 
 ners gave him some good advice told 
 him to go to the venerable priest, con- 
 fess his faults with contrition and a firm 
 purpose of amendment, without which 
 it would avail him nothing, and be 
 guided by him in his future course of 
 life ; and that if she heard of his per-
 
 90 COTTAGE EVENING TALES. 
 
 severance in virtue, she would put him 
 in the way to gain an honest living; for 
 his parents were very poor, and she was 
 willing to assist them. 
 
 <; ' If your son will come to us, Mrs. 
 Truely,' she continued, 'we will give 
 him plenty of work, and he shall share 
 in the instructions which I give to my 
 Felix. You will be glad to have a com- 
 panion who % will set you an example of 
 industry and obedience, my dear child,' 
 continued she, addressing her son, who 
 hung his head, because he too well 
 understood her meaning. 
 
 "The proposal was accepted with 
 gratitude by Mrs. Truely, and Felix 
 shed tears of joy at the idea of being 
 instructed, for he could only read and 
 write passably, and his stock of books 
 was very limited. 
 
 " ' I am going to the village, where I
 
 FIFTH EVENING. 91 
 
 shall remain several hours,' said Mrs. 
 Manners one morning to her son, 'unless 
 you are very disobedient you will not 
 leave the house, or be idle during my 
 absence ; and I shall expect you to know 
 your lessons perfectly when I return. 
 Felix Truely has already finished his 
 work in the field, and he will studytwith 
 you.' 
 
 "Felix Manners sat gazing on his 
 books for half an hour, then rose to 
 leave the room. 
 
 " ' Where are you going ? Do you 
 know your lessons already?" said his 
 companion. 
 
 " ' I am going to play with Pompey, 
 and get some peaches; I will be back 
 presently.' 
 
 " 'But your mother said we must not* 
 leave the house pray do not go ;' but 
 Felix was already out of hearing. 

 
 92 COTTAGE EVENING TALES. 
 
 "Young Truely was so busy at his 
 tasks that he was surprised on looking 
 at the clock to find that his friend had 
 been absent two hours. As he rose to 
 go in search of him a scream from the 
 garden smote his ear. He flew to the 
 spot, and saw Felix struggling with a 
 larga ape, which held him by the throat. 
 He struck it with a spade, and the ani- 
 mal escaped, bearing oft* the basket of 
 peaches, with which the truant had in- 
 tended to regale himself. As soon as 
 the latter had recovered from his fright, 
 his friend advised him to resume his 
 studies as his mother would soon return, 
 and would be grieved to find he had 
 been so idle. 'But how did this hap- 
 pen ?' continued he. 
 
 "'Why I heard a great chattering 
 outside the garden" wall, and opened the 
 gate to see who it -could be, when this
 
 FIFTII EVENING. 93 
 
 horrible monkey flew at my basket of 
 peaches. I would not let go so it flew 
 at my throat, I feel its claws yet. If 
 Pompey had boeji here he would have 
 bit him finely.' 
 
 "'AVell,' replied the other, 'you ee, 
 my dear Felix, that we are always pun- 
 ished in some way for our faults. If you 
 had not disobeyed your mother by going 
 into the garden, hut had studied your 
 lesson, this would not have happened. 
 The animal might have strangled you 
 had not God sent me to your assistance. 
 But come, I know my lessons and will 
 help you to get yours. It would grieve 
 me to see my benefactress displeased 
 with you, and I trust you will not again 
 act so thoughtlessly.' 
 
 "Felix was very fond of his friend 
 and took this admonition in good parr. 
 The lessons were just completed as Mrs. 
 Manners entered the room.
 
 94 COTTAGE. EVENING TALES. 
 
 "'I see you have not been idle to- 
 day," said she, after Felix had recited 
 his different tasks. 
 
 "He blushed and looked confused, 
 but as she did not observe it, he had 
 not moral courage or honesty enough to 
 tell the truth or give the praise where 
 it was due. 
 
 " One day Felix Manners said to his 
 companion: 'I shall be ten years old on 
 St. Felix's day, and mother has promised 
 to give me a feast. "We are to write 
 compositions on the virtues of our patron 
 saint, and the best one will obtain a 
 prize; she will not tell me what the 
 prize is to be, but I know it will be 
 something worth having ; so mind, I shall 
 try hard to win it.' 
 
 " ' I hope most sincerely you may 
 obtain it and you certainly will, for 
 you know I shall be a very poor rival.'
 
 FIFTH EVENING. 95 
 
 Felix Truely would not be half so much 
 satisfied to win it himself, for he had no 
 selfishness, and rejoiced at everything 
 that exalted the ' character of the son of 
 his benefactress. 
 
 "The day arrived and a large party 
 assembled at Mrs. Manners' house 
 amongst whom was Mrs. Truely. After 
 partaking of refreshments the two boys 
 recited their compositions, and Felix 
 Manners obtained the prize. An in- 
 terior voice whispered that he had no 
 right to it, but as nobody knew so but 
 himself, save one, his selfishness got the 
 better, and he received the congratula- 
 tions of those around him. His mother 
 told him his prize waited at the door, 
 and he found a beautiful pony, the 
 smallest ever seen in that neighborhood, 
 ready saddled. His friend followed to 
 help him to mount, but Felix could not
 
 96 COTTAGE EVENING TALES. 
 
 speak, for he was ashamed of his own 
 meanness, which we shall learn pres- 
 ently. After dinner another smaller 
 prize was to be given for the best com- 
 position on any chosen subject. That 
 of Felix Manners was a very common- 
 place essay on the beauties of Spring ; 
 but his companion delivered an elo- 
 quent discourse on Gratitude, in which 
 he painted the truly Christian character 
 of his benefactress in glowing colors. 
 The judge awarded him the prize, which 
 was a splendidly bound copy of the Lives 
 of the Saints. For a moment there was 
 a profound silence, and Felix Manners 
 stood before his mother blushing and in 
 tears. 
 
 "'Pardon me,' said he, 'for having 
 received what was not justly mine. We 
 showed our compositions to our llev_ 
 erend Pastor, and he, without knowing
 
 FIFTH EVENING. 97 
 
 who wrote it, pronounced my friend's 
 decidedly the best. I knew he was a 
 good judge, and I was so disturbed at 
 the idea of not succeeding, that Felix 
 Truely offered me his, if I thought it 
 would obtain the preference. He said 
 he would not recite his, if he supposed 
 it could win the premium from his dear 
 Felix. I was mean and selfish enough to 
 accept it ; the pony is therefore his, 
 and his generosity and friendship have 
 opened my eyes to those faults by which 
 I have so often offended God, and grieved 
 the best of mothers.' 
 
 " Mrs. Manners embraced her son, and 
 thanked God for having touched the 
 heart of her beloved one, and a pressure 
 of the hand told her gratitude to Felix 
 Truely. 
 
 "But a terrible storm was ready to 
 burst over the head of the latter ; show-
 
 98 COTTAGE EVENING TALES. 
 
 ing that our life shall not always be sun- 
 shine, 'for whom the Lord loveth he 
 chastiseth, and scourgeth every son 
 whom he receiveth.' The overseer of 
 the farm disliked Felix because he could 
 not corrupt him, for he was an unfaith- 
 ful servant, though Mrs. Manners had 
 always placed confidence in him, and 
 therefore put the poor boy under his 
 charge. When the grain was gathered 
 in at the harvest, the overseer scored 
 down the number of bushels, and when 
 it was afterwards sold, Felix did so, by 
 his orders ; there were a hundred bushels 
 less than the first count. 
 
 "'How is this, Felix?' said he, 'you 
 have either miscounted the quantity or 
 you have stolen a hundred bushels. I 
 shall inform Mrs. Manners of the hypo- 
 crite who thus abuses her goodness, for 
 many persons saw the grain first mea-
 
 FIFTH EVENING. 99 
 
 sured, and I have observed you fre- 
 quently carrying away bundles.' 
 
 " It was in vain for Felix to protest 
 his innocence ; the overseer was deter- 
 mined to ruin him, and thus get quit of 
 one whom he feared would sooner or 
 later witness against him. 
 
 " Mrs. Manners had some months be- 
 fore lost a diamond breastpin, and as 
 she had no reason to suspect any one 
 about the house of stealing it, supposed 
 she hud lost it while walking. Felix 
 was summoned before her to answer the 
 accusation of his enemy, who stated 
 that there could be no doubt of his 
 guilt, as he had found a small sack with 
 Mrs. Truely's name on it, behind his 
 trunk, containing the refuse of wheat ; 
 and that his wife had also found the dia- 
 mond pin in his waistcoat while wash- 
 ins: it.
 
 100 COTTAGE EVENING TALES. 
 
 " Felix Truely went up to Mrs. Man- 
 ners and said : ' It is in vain for me to 
 assert my innocence ; I leave my cause 
 in the Lands of God ; I have never wil- 
 fully offended him, and he will one day 
 show forth who is the guilty one. Do 
 with me what you please ; I only grieve 
 for my poor mother, whose heart will 
 be broken at the thought of her son 
 being called a criminal for she will 
 never believe me guilty of robbing my 
 benefactress. May God comfort my 
 poor parent in the bitter hour of trial.' 
 
 " He stood calm and dignified. Mrs. 
 Manners burst into tears told him to 
 return to his mother that she could 
 not resolve to bring him to justice 
 besought him to repent ere it was too 
 late, and begged him to go at once, for 
 she had truly loved him. 
 
 " The overseer remarked that it was
 
 FIFTH EVENING. 101 
 
 not very prudent to let such a delin- 
 quent go unpunished. 
 
 " 'It is my intention to give him time 
 to repent,' said she, 'on account of his 
 youth ; and I can yet hardly understand 
 how one who had never before given 
 me any reason to think evil of him, 
 should thus, all at once, fall.' 
 
 "The man muttered something about 
 hypocrites, but she remained firm to her 
 
 decision. Felix Manners looked first at 
 I 
 
 his poor friend and then at his accuser, 
 and the malicious exultation of the lat- 
 ter was not lost upon him. 
 
 "It was a sad meeting that night 
 between the poor mother and son. ' I 
 know you are not guilty, my clear child, 
 and we must bow with resignation to 
 the will of God,' said Mrs. Truely; and 
 Felix took his crucifix and prayed, ' Oh, 
 my beloved Redeemer ! strengthen thy
 
 102 COTTAGE EVENING TALES. 
 
 poor cliild and enable him to bear igno- 
 miny for the love of Thee !' 
 
 "After the departure of the poor boy 
 Felix Manners became sad and solitary ; 
 He did not believe him guilty, for how 
 could a mere child carry away a hun- 
 dred bushels of wheat iu a small sack; 
 more particularly as his mother always 
 kept the key of the granary, and Felix 
 had never been entrusted with it, nor 
 had she ever missed it from her bunch 
 of keys. Felix also had an indistinct 
 remembrance that on the day his mother 
 had missed the breastpin he had seen, 
 confusion in the manner of the overseer's 
 daughter, (who was chambermaid,) when, 
 he came suddenly into his mother's room, 
 and he felt convinced that his poor friend 
 was the victim of a vile plot, which ho 
 was determined to unfold, if possible. 
 
 " The overseer spread the story about,
 
 FIFTH EVENING. 103 
 
 and Felix Truely could get no employ- 
 ment. George Ellis, (the boy who had in- 
 tended to rob him at the bridge,) came 
 and offered to share his fortunes with 
 him. He had indeed reformed, and Mrs. 
 Manners had secured him plenty of work, 
 and the esteem of those who 'had for- 
 merly despised him. But Felix would 
 not deprive him of his earnings, if he 
 could earn bread for his poor parent he 
 cared not for himself; yet though George 
 could not get him to accept anything for 
 himself, he could not prevent him from 
 privately placing baskets of provisions 
 in the cottage window, for the repentant 
 boy was anxious to repair his former 
 faults towards Felix. 
 
 One evening as Felix Manners was 
 walking in one of his mother's fields, a 
 paper lying in the long grass caught his 
 eye, he carelessly picked it up, and found
 
 104 COTTAGE EVENING TALES. 
 
 it to be a letter addressed to the wife of 
 the overseer, and he recognized his 
 handwriting. He had gone to a distant 
 city some days before on urgent busi- 
 ness. As Felix held the letter unde- 
 cided what to do with it, the words Felix 
 and wheat caught his attention, (for the 
 letter was open,) and at that moment 
 the person to whom it was addressed 
 came running in great agitation, and 
 seeing the fatal letter open in his hand, 
 exclaimed, 'Have you dared to read my 
 letter?' 
 
 " '1 have not read it but you forget 
 to whom you are speaking.' 
 
 " ' Give it to me, or I will make you.' 
 " 'I shall not,' said Felix, quietly; for 
 he saw that it contained something re- 
 lating to the late affair. She darted at 
 him with furious looks, but he flew 
 away like a lapwing, and stopped not
 
 FIFTH EVENING. 105 
 
 until he found himself at his mother's 
 side. lie told his story, and Mrs. Man- 
 ners felt justified in seeing the contents 
 of the letter and sent for witnesses to 
 approve her conduct. It was as follows: 
 lii Dear Wife: I have sold the hun- 
 dred bushels of wheat at a great profit, 
 and shall bring home a nice sum, and 
 we can then buy the carriage you want 
 so much. I have besides got a good 
 bargain for the ox that we made the 
 mistress believe was dead and but for 
 that pest, Felix, I could have sold the 
 breastpin for nearly its value; but you 
 know I had to give it up in order to 
 criminate that miserable ploughboy, who 
 wanted to be a gentleman over his bet- 
 ters. I shall be home in two days, and 
 in the meantime you must spread about 
 that you have received a legacy. Burn 
 this, &c.'
 
 106 COTTAGE EVENING TALES. 
 
 " ' Dear Felix !' exclaimed Mrs. Man- 
 ners, 'how have we wronged you let 
 us hasten to repair the injurious treat- 
 ment he has received from us.' 
 
 "Before the overseer could be in- 
 formed by his wife, he was arrested and 
 placed in the county jail to await his 
 trial. Mrs. Manners proceeded to the 
 cottage, asked pardon for her great in- 
 justice ; took the mother and son home, 
 and adopted them both into her house 
 and heart. 
 
 "It was again St. Felix's day, and the 
 two youths knelt at the altar to receive, 
 for the first time, the Bread of Life. 
 Who can paint the transports of those 
 souls with whom the Lord of heaven and 
 earth deigns to come and take up his 
 abode ? * I have found my Beloved I 
 hold him, and will not let him go until 
 he shall bless me.'
 
 FIFTH EVENING. 107 
 
 "Happiness beamed in the facea of 
 those two boys; their secret prayers and 
 the pure offerings of their hearts were 
 registered on high. George Ellis, too, 
 was there, and was received into the 
 bosom of that Church from which he 
 had so long strayed. He was employed 
 by Mrs. Manners and afterwards became 
 her steward, which office he filled with 
 capability and faithfulness. 
 
 " Fifteen years had passed, and two 
 priests were seen one day kneeling 
 before two graves in the village ceme- 
 tery, absorbed in prayer. They rose 
 and pursued their way through the ro- 
 mantic pathway, before spoken of, and 
 paused before the ruins of a cottage. 
 
 " * Blessed be the memory of my de- 
 parted mother!' exclaimed the elder; 
 ' for by her piety and prayers God pre- 
 served me from the snares of the enemy.
 
 108 COTTAGE EVENING TALES. 
 
 You remember the prayer we offered on 
 the day of our first communion,' said 
 lie, addressing his companion. 
 
 "'Yes, my brother,' was the reply; 
 1 and God has indeed heard those pray- 
 ers, since it has pleased him to call us 
 to consecrate ourselves to his service. 
 To-morrow is our Annual Festival, and 
 what happiness will be ours to officiate 
 at that altar where we 'first ofiered our- 
 selves to God.' 
 
 "You will easily perceive, my dear 
 children, that these two servants of God 
 were Felix Manners and Felix Truely. 
 They never came again but for many 
 years St. Felix's day was a day of re- 
 joicing amongst the youth of the village.
 
 -^5o> 
 
 Good and Bad Example. 
 
 CG) V- 
 
 i 3"*^) 
 
 r N what subject are you all 
 f discoursing so earnestly?'' 
 >y$ asked Miss Onslow, as she 
 entered the room where her 
 pupils were assembled. 
 
 'We are speaking of good 
 and bad example," replied one of the 
 oldest girls; "and Ann Darby has just 
 said that it only applies to grown per- 
 sons, for nobody takes notice of the 
 example of children. I was going to 
 show her she is wrong, by relating that, 
 yesterday mamma desired me not to go 
 
 into the garden while the grass was wet, 
 (109)
 
 110 COTTAGE EVENING TALES. 
 
 but I paid no attention to her orders 
 and went. Mamma was much displeased 
 with me, not only because I had dis- 
 obeyed her, but because my little brother 
 followed my example and is sick to-day 
 in consequence. !N"ow, did not that ex- 
 ample cause my brother to be disobe- 
 dient and to sufi'er also besides?" 
 
 "But" your brother did not know you. 
 were forbidden to go, and therefore was 
 not disobedient," persisted Ann. 
 
 "Yes, he did know it, and thought 
 mamma quite unkind to keep us in the 
 house. But even had he not known it, 
 though he would not have been disobe- 
 dient, yet my example caused him a sick- 
 ness he might not otherwise have had. 
 Am I not right?" continued she, turn- 
 ing to her teacher. 
 
 " Certainly, my love," you were the 
 cause of both ; but as you have had the 
 courage openly to speak of your fault,
 
 SIXTH EVENING. Ill 
 
 by which, you not only displeased your 
 mamma but offended God, I trustyou 
 will never again commit it. When 
 children have arrived at the age of rea- 
 son, that is, when they are old enough 
 to know right from wrong, then they 
 become bound to set a good example. 
 I remember that when I was a child, 
 my mother one morning desired me to 
 return home immediately after Bchool. 
 I promised, but seeing some pretty but- 
 terflies in a field near the school, I asked 
 one of my companions to stay and help 
 me catch them. She said that her sister 
 did not seem quite well when she left 
 home and she was required to hasten 
 back. I replied that it would only be a 
 few minutes more, and so insisted that 
 at last she complied. We spent more 
 than two hours and caught one poor 
 butterfly. "When I returned home my 
 mother pointed out the faults I had com-
 
 112 COTTAGE EVENING TALES. 
 
 mitted through disobedience and "bad 
 
 C-> 
 
 example. But tbis was not all. My 
 companion found her sister very ill 
 there had been nobody to go for the 
 physician during her absence, and, in 
 consequence, the child had a painful 
 and protracted illness, from which she 
 never entirely recovered so my bad 
 example produced a sad result that I 
 had not anticipated and which I have 
 never forgotten or ceased to lament." 
 
 The teacher paused in great emotion. 
 After awhile she continued : " I will 
 relate the history of a little girl, which 
 will prove to you the importance of 
 example at every age :" 
 
 " Susan was the daughter of Martin, 
 a poor laborer, who worked very indus- 
 triously to support his family, and lived 
 as a pious and sincere Christian. His 
 wife, who was named Catharine, fol- 
 lowed his bright example, and taught
 
 SIXTH EVENING. 113 
 
 her children to love God from their 
 earliest years. At the time my story 
 begins they had seen all their loved o'nes 
 die, except Susan, who was remarkable 
 for her piety. At four years old she 
 might be seen in the church with her 
 little hands clasped together, her eyes 
 fixed on ^the Crucifix or on a statue of 
 the Blessed Virgin, and not a sound or 
 movement on her part disturbed the 
 attention of those who were there assem- 
 bled. Such, my dear children, should 
 be the conduct of all, both old and 
 young, who enter the Holy Temple of 
 God. Even at that tender age she was 
 the means of converting a young wo- 
 man, who sometimes went to that church, 
 but whose attention was always taken 
 up with gazing at those who entered, or 
 in whispering to some companion as 
 irreverent as herself; who never knelt 
 devoutly during the August Sacrifice of
 
 114 COTTAGE EVENING TALES. 
 
 the Mass, when our Divine Redeemer 
 is present on the altar, at the words pro- 
 nounced by the priests to whom He has 
 given this power; whose conduct, in 
 short, was so offensive to God and so 
 greatly annoyed those who came there 
 really to pray, that Susan, being one 
 day placed near her, looked in her face, 
 with eyes streaming with tears, and 
 whispered, " God is looking at us do 
 not make Him angry." When they left 
 the church that young woman followed 
 and asked her to pray for her. The 
 prayers and beautiful example of the 
 child converted her, as she has often 
 since assured me, and she afterwards 
 became as remarkable for her piety as 
 she had before been the contrary. 
 
 " Susan was about twelve years old 
 when Martin received a letter from his 
 brother's daughter, informing him of the 
 death of her father, and begging him to
 
 SIXTH EVENING. 115 
 
 receive her, as she was left entirely des- 
 titute. He sent for and received her 
 with affection. She was ten years old ; 
 had been brought up in idleness, and 
 knew little or nothing. She was very 
 careless about her religious duties, and 
 never said her prayers or even desired 
 to attend Mass. 
 
 "'I cannot understand how you can 
 be happy when you do not say your 
 prayers, or do anything that the church 
 requires,' said Susan to her one day. 
 
 " ' Oh ! my father did not bother him- 
 self about such things,' she replied, ' and 
 never taught me any such practices we 
 had plenty whilst we lived, and what 
 more is necessary in this world ? I shall 
 soon be able to get enough without my 
 uncle's help, or having to live so very 
 saint-like.' So saying with a sneer she 
 left the good Susan. How many are 
 like poor Rose, thinking of nothing but
 
 116 COTTAGE EVENING TALES. 
 
 what they can gain in this world, with- 
 out remembering that God will require 
 something of them for the things 
 gained in this world alone are only for 
 his enemy. 
 
 " Susan was much grieved to see Rose 
 so careless of her salvation, and begged 
 her to pause and reflect, and her uncle 
 and aunt used every means to bring her 
 to a sense of her duty, but in vain. 
 
 " One day Susan 'requested her to assist 
 in finishing some plain sewing which 
 she had promised to take home the next 
 morning. Kose refused, became very 
 angry, and used injurious words. The 
 pious girl made no reply, and, after say- 
 ing her prayers, sat up nearly all night 
 to complete her task. At an early hour 
 she went to Mass, and then proceeded 
 to the house of the lady delivered 
 her work, and received payment. As 
 she returned home she met Rose, who
 
 SIXTH EVENING. 117 
 
 seemed confused, and made some tri- 
 fling excuse to leave her. "Whilst she 
 was preparing the breakfast, two men 
 entered, and inquired for her cou- 
 sin. They were yet speaking when 
 Rose entered by the back door, and see- 
 ing them would have fled. They pro- 
 duced a warrant accusing her of stealing 
 some valuable lace from a shop, and in 
 spite of her denial and tears, she was 
 taken to jail. 
 
 " Susan received permission to visit 
 her ; she consoled her, wept with her, 
 and prayed for her, and talked so beau- 
 tifully of the danger she was in of losing 
 her soul, and of being confined eternally 
 to a prison far more horrible than that 
 she was now condemned to, and of the 
 bliss of heaven reserved for those that 
 serve God, that at last the hitherto ob- 
 durate and impenitent girl knelt and 
 prayed for pardon for her sins. She was
 
 118 COTTAGE EVENING TALES. 
 
 at length, released and returned -to her 
 uncle's house. She fell into many of 
 her former faults, but the untiring 
 charity, patience, piety, and constant 
 good example of Susan were finally re- 
 warded by her amendment, and she 
 learned to know, love and serve God. 
 
 " Soon afterwards Susan fell into an 
 alarming illness, from which, she never 
 recovered. She called Rose to her, and 
 begged her to supply her place towards 
 her parents. The reformed girl pro- 
 mised and kept her word ; and blessed 
 her dying cousin for the good example 
 she had set her and which had saved 
 her. She afterwards, by her good con- 
 duct, reclaimed a young girl who had be- 
 come quite wicked by listening to her bad 
 advice and following her evil example." 
 
 "Will you now say, my dear child- 
 ren, that the good or bad example of 
 children is of no importance ?"
 
 SIXTH EVENING. 119 
 
 "No, indeed," replied Ann; "and I 
 will endeavor to imitate Susan." 
 
 At this moment Mrs. Grenville ap- 
 peared. She was eagerly welcomed by 
 the children, to whom she had promised 
 to relate a story on devotion to the 
 Blessed Virgin, as a fitting close to the 
 last of the " Cottage Evenings." The 
 story was as follows : 
 
 "In a small village, beautfully ijitiiated 
 on the banks of a river, one cottage might 
 be distinguished from the rest by its air 
 of neatness, the roses that clustered over 
 its porch, and the little garden attached 
 to it. It was inhabited by old Nannie 
 Dale and her grand-daughter Mary. The 
 latter was about twelve years of age and 
 a model of filial piety. She attended to 
 the slightest wants of her aged and in- 
 firm relative, kept the cottage so clean, 
 the little garden so full of sweet flowers 
 and clear of weeds, and was always so
 
 120 COTTAGE EVENING TALES. 
 
 early at church that she was called 'the 
 pride of the village' a name which 
 alarmed her humility. She was as mo- 
 dest and retiring as the violet, and so 
 full of benevolence, that she shared her 
 scanty meals with those less fortunate 
 than herself. Her sister Josephine (some 
 years older) lived with a lady in the 
 neighborhood, in the capacity of lady's 
 maid. She was as remarkable for her 
 want of piety and humility as Mary was 
 for both. The only thing she had not 
 discarded was a medal of our Lady, which 
 she had promised her dying mother al- 
 ways to wear, and to recite the prayer on 
 it which promise she kept. She seldom 
 saw Mary, for she feared her gentle re- 
 proofs. 
 
 It was the custom of the village girls 
 to crown a queen, chosen by lot, on the 
 first day of every May. They assembled 
 for this purpose in the park of Mr. Good- 
 all, who loved to witness their innocent 
 festivity, and who also provided a suit- 
 able entertainment, laid out under the 
 magnificent oak trees, which had dour-
 
 SIXTH EVENING. 121 
 
 ished there for a century. A beautiful 
 temple Lad also been erected by him and 
 dedicated to the Blessed Virgin Mary ; 
 it was adorned by a marble statue, as 
 large as life, of our Holy Mother. It 
 was there they crowned the queen elect, 
 who was required at the same time to 
 select one of the favorite virtues of the 
 Holy Queen under whose auspices she 
 was crowned, to practice during the 
 year, and at the. succeeding annual fes- 
 tival to give an account of her observ- 
 ance of it, and if she had failed slje was 
 never re-elected. This rule was produc- 
 tive of much good, for she who was 
 considered as too bad to be nominated 
 a second time, was in a manner under 
 disgrace. 
 
 " * Who do you think will be Queen ?' 
 said Ellen Parr to Mary, as they sat 
 together at the cottage window on the 
 eve of May. 
 
 " 'I know whom I would choose,' she 
 replied, ' but grandmamma is so feeble 
 that I do not think I shall be there.' 
 
 " The morn had scarcely smiled in the
 
 122 COTTAGE EVENING TALES. 
 
 east, when groups of joyous girls had 
 assembled in the park; their white 
 dresses and ribbons formed a pretty con- 
 trast to the dark trees, hung with fes- 
 toons of roses. The Ave Maria ascended 
 in melodious accents, but all missed the 
 sweet accents of Mary; she was yet 
 absent. They next proceeded to nomi- 
 nate the Queen, and, by a vote almost 
 unanimous, Mary was elected. They sent 
 to tell her, and she came, but in sadness, 
 for her grandparent was rapidly declin- 
 ing; but, in obedience to her wishes, 
 she left her to the care of Mrs. Parr. 
 
 " ' Oh, Mary !' said Ellen, running to 
 meet her, 'I am so glad that you are 
 Queen ; come, we are waiting to .crown 
 you.' 
 
 " Mary knelt, and a beautiful wreath 
 of white roses and lily of the valley 
 was placed on her her head by Ellen, 
 who said, * these blossoms will soon fade, 
 but our love for our May Queen, never.' 
 
 "The Queen arose, and whilst tears 
 of mingled emotions coursed down her 
 cheeks, she replied, 'I thank you, my
 
 SIXTH EVENING." "123 
 
 friends and companions, for this mark of 
 love and preference ; but there is one 
 whom we should love and prefer still 
 more. I therefore use the usual privi- 
 lege granted of resigning my crown to 
 another, and I place it where you .will 
 best love to see it.' 
 
 " She then covered the brow of the 
 statue with the sweet offering. A mur- 
 mur of approbation ran through the 
 crowd, and, kneeling, they chanted the 
 Litany. As the last notes died away, 
 Mary's prayer was heard: l Oh ! blessed 
 Mother and Queen, may I soon see thee 
 crowned in heaven.' 
 
 " ' And pray,' said Josephine, who had 
 witnessed the ceremony and heard her 
 prayer, but who had not even asked for 
 her grandmother, 'why could you not 
 have crowned me instead of that old 
 statue ? Indeed, I fully expected to be 
 Queen.' 
 
 " Mary answered in a tone of gentle 
 reproof; 'If you deem yourself more 
 worthy than the Queen of heaven to 
 whom I have made the offering, take the
 
 124 COTTAGE EVENING TALES. 
 
 wreath from her brow,' but Josephine 
 turned away angry and abashed. 
 
 "The party had just commenced par- 
 taking of strawberries and cream, with 
 other danties, when Mary was sent for 
 to attend her dying parent she entreat- 
 ed her sister to go with her, but in vain 
 she hated such melancholy scenes. 
 
 " ' I am about to leave you, dear child,' 
 said old Nannie, as her grandchild ap- 
 proached, 'and I have yet a duty to 
 perform. I bequeath you to the care of 
 Mrs. Parr, who will be a mother to you, 
 all the little I possess is yours. Love 
 God with your whole heart, detest sin 
 as the only real evil, be a faithful fol- 
 lower of the cross, devote yourself to the 
 blessed Mother of God, and your May- 
 day prayer will be heard.' She kissed 
 her loved one, then her crucifix, and 
 was at rest. 
 
 " The summer passed away fresh 
 flowers constantly graced the brow of 
 the statue, yet none saw who placed them 
 there. Poor Mary was gentle, loving, 
 and unwearied in serving all, but it was
 
 SIXTH EVENING. 125 
 
 evident that her strength gradually de- 
 creased, and that her thoughts were not 
 of this world. She was often missed, 
 and generally found in the May temple. 
 One day during the winter she was heard 
 to exclaim ' How I sigh for May day.' 
 
 " ' Do you expect to be again crown- 
 ed ?' said Ellen smiling. 
 
 " ' No, but I desire to see the Queen 
 of May,' she replied. 
 
 " Her companion understood her, and 
 wept, for she saw her passing away as 
 rapidly as the snow melts under the 
 beams of a mid-day sun. She never 
 spoke of her sister, who had not chang- 
 ed her evil ways, but they heard her 
 pronounce her name when praying in 
 the temple. Ellen now saw May day 
 approaching with a saddened heart. 
 
 " It came at length in sunshine and 
 beauty. The villagers assembled as for- 
 merly, and after reciting morning pray- 
 ers, they said as usual the Ave Maria. 
 On arriving at the temple, they found in 
 the hand of the statue a scroll, with the 
 words, l Our Queen reigns for ever !' and
 
 126 COTTAGE EVENING TALES. 
 
 Mary lying at its feet. They raised her, 
 she was dead. Her prayer had been 
 heard. A death-like silence prevailed 
 for a moment at this sight then with a 
 shrill cry Josephine rushed forward and 
 embraced the corpse of the beautiful 
 and blest. * Gone,' said she, 'gone to 
 bliss, and I what am I ? Speak to me, 
 Mary, and say I shall be forgiven.' 
 
 "Three years passed away, and the 
 priest was standing at the death bed of 
 the contrite Josephine. She saw the 
 faint streaks of early dawn through the 
 lattice, and said, * Father, is not this May 
 day ? I come I come ;' and the soul 
 of the redeemed winged its flight to 
 another habitation. The villagers erect- 
 ed a monument which may still be seen, 
 on which the words : ' To our beloved 
 Mary and Josephine Dale,' were in- 
 scribed." 
 
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