%'i
 
 UCSB LIBRARY 
 
 / 
 
 '/9
 
 ^^r-. 
 
 TAKING THE PLEDGE. Page 192.
 
 The Red Bridge. 
 
 % temperance ^torg. 
 
 THRACE TALMO:^r, 
 
 AUTHOR OF "EDITH H.U.E,; " CAPTAIX MOLLY, ■ •'THE NEW CLERK. 
 ETC. ETC. 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 
 National Temperance Society and Publication House, 
 
 172 WiLLiAivr Street. 
 
 1867.
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1867, by 
 
 J. N. STEARNS, 
 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Eastern District 
 of New York.
 
 COjSTTEIsTS 
 
 >>»<c 
 
 I. With the Guardian, . 
 II. Consequences, 
 
 III. Going to the War, 
 
 IV, In the District School, 
 V. Impressions by the Way, 
 
 VI. Examination Day, 
 VII. Seminary Life, 
 VIII. Reverses, 
 IX. The Bottled Manuscript, 
 X The Surprise, 
 
 39 
 61 
 88 
 136 
 165 
 •210 
 242 
 27.^ 
 309
 
 The Eed Bridge. 
 I. 
 
 Mitlj % (BxxctxVxvin* 
 
 H ! they have come ! " 
 
 " Who have come ? " 
 
 " My new wards, — children of 
 my old college friend^ Winslow, who, you 
 will remember, died at his parsonage, a 
 few weeks since. I told you we might 
 expect them about this time." 
 
 The first speaker was an intelligent 
 man of high bearing, standing at one of 
 the windows of his residence in the aris- 
 tocratic part of the city of C . He 
 
 (7)
 
 8 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 addressed his maiden sister, who resided 
 with her bachelor brother, and superin- 
 tended his housekeeping arrangements. 
 
 The coach had stopped, and the young 
 wards soon after were shown into the 
 presence of their guardian. 
 
 " Glad to see you, my children. I have 
 forgotten your name," offering his hand 
 to the oldest, a boy of sixteen. " Wil- 
 liam ! that is good to bear the name of 
 your excellent father. And this young 
 lady of some fourteen summers, is " — 
 
 " Mary," said the boy, bowing slightly. 
 
 Their hands were both warmly grasped, 
 when a presentation to the sister ensued. 
 
 " We must make these young people 
 at home with us. Miss Eliza. Will you 
 call Kenneth to show them to their rooms, 
 for dinner will be on the table in an hour."
 
 WITH THE GUAKDIAN. 
 
 When the young people had gone out, 
 Gilbert Jameson entered the adjoining 
 room, which was his library, opened the 
 door of a closet, took down a decanter, 
 from which he poured a glass of some 
 kind of liquid, and drank it off w^ithout 
 pausing for breath. He then sat down 
 at his writing-desk, and made the follow- 
 ing entry in his journal: — 
 
 " Alexander had a profound affection for 
 his noble nurse Lannice, the daughter of 
 Dropidas. Winslow's excellent mother 
 once took the finest care of me when I 
 was at his house for a visit, one college- 
 vacation, and had a dangerous fever. My 
 fellow-student turned out a country parson, 
 and,^. dying early, left the two children 
 with but a paltry hundred, or so, apiece. 
 Their mother died soon after the last one 
 was born.
 
 10 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 " As I have never done much to bless 
 the world, as they call it, with my liberal 
 patrimony, I thought I would step for- 
 ward and take these precious, forlorn 
 lambs into my own fold, and see what 
 I can make of them. 
 
 " I have not chick nor kin but Eliza, 
 and who shall say I love not wisely? 
 
 " The boy has a daring, spirited look 
 that I fancy prodigiously. I can mould 
 him into a fellow of the first quality. 
 But the girl I shall turn over to my sis- 
 ter. She is not in my way; her quiet, 
 sensible manner will just suit Eliza. She 
 cultivates ' Mercury's moly^ — the plant 
 which breaks the charm that sometimes 
 comes from the good old wine given by 
 the host of the Circean palace to his sur- 
 feited guests."
 
 WITH THE GUARDIAN. 11 
 
 The contents of the ruby-colored glass, 
 from which he had just drank, began to 
 work in his brain. 
 
 " How thrillingly pleasant it is to be 
 rich, and Jinow that your foundations, 
 like the Glitner palace of the Scandi- 
 navian mythology, are built on pillars of 
 gold ! One feels so independent who can 
 open his doors that the needy may come 
 in and sup and abide there ! 
 
 " I do not know as Win slow would fan- 
 cy my sort of training for his boy ; but, at 
 all events, he is too far over the other side 
 of the dark valley to know or care much, 
 I reckon. He grew so solemn along the 
 last of his life, whenever I saw him, which 
 was not often, that distance lent enchant- 
 ment to his society. He was a thoroughly 
 good fellow to me, in the days of old, and
 
 12 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 stood by me because I was his chum, as 
 far as his tender conscience would permit. 
 I used to call him Baldrian, after the just 
 and innocent god, in honor of whom, the 
 v.hitest flower received its name. But his 
 boy here will make no Baldrian, or I mis- 
 take." 
 
 While this was being written, the two 
 young people had joined each other in 
 Mary's apartment, and thus communi- 
 cated : — 
 
 " What a grand and beautiful place ! " 
 said William, with animated countenance. 
 " I had no idea we should drift into such a 
 harbor." 
 
 " Yes," said Mary, " it is very fine ; but 
 these people are all unknown to us. There 
 are no friends like our dear father, — no 
 home like the old house under the green 
 trees of Blendale."
 
 WITH THE GUARDIAN. - 13" 
 
 " Fudge on your nonsense ! That is 
 like you, — always moping." 
 
 Mary said nothing, as was most often 
 her habit when ridiculed by her brother. 
 
 " We shall fare here, tip-top," he went 
 on, " while at home, life was plain and sol- 
 emn enough to make a fellow hang himself 
 for the sake of variety." 
 
 The servant now announced " dinner " at 
 their door, and they went down. No bless- 
 ing being asked, their attention was at 
 once attracted by a wine-glass at each 
 plate, while several bottles of an unique 
 and costly pattern, stood near the plate of 
 Mr. Jameson. 
 
 William's eyes Idndled at the sight, but 
 Mary secretly wondered what could be in 
 those bottles. If it were wine or other 
 strong drink, would it conflict with the
 
 14 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 pledge they had both signed, up at Blen- 
 dale? 
 
 By and by, when the conversation flowed 
 pleasantly and naturally, Mr. Jameson or- 
 dered one of the waiters, who stood near 
 his chair, to pour a glass of Madeira. 
 This he handed to his sister. He then 
 asked William if he would drink some- 
 thing light, like white Constantia ? 
 
 " I will, thank you," replied WiUiam. 
 
 Mary moved uneasily in her chair ; she 
 ventured to speak : — " Brother, you know 
 that you signed the temperance pledge 
 more than a year ago." 
 
 " What of that ? " exclaimed their host, 
 laughing lightly ; " life is one thing up in 
 that little steady country-place, and quite 
 another, here in town." 
 
 " But ought we not to be temperate as
 
 WITH THE GUARDIAN. 15 
 
 much here as there?" asked Mary, eying 
 anxiously the attractive liquor as it flowed 
 into the glass beside her brother's plate. 
 
 " Why, the fact is," said Mr. Jameson 
 with just a shade of annoyance in his tone, 
 " all our best families here use something 
 of this kind with dinner, as much as they 
 do coffee or tea. It is thought nothing of, 
 I assure you." 
 
 " You have promised, William, not to 
 taste of any such drink," she said, as she 
 saw that he was about to take the glass. 
 
 " I didn't know any better then ; and 
 the lecturers on such things told such aw- 
 ful stories about how people who drank, 
 turn out. I was ready for any such hocus- 
 pocus," the youth replied. 
 
 " Certainly," said Mr. Jameson. " You 
 will learn here to hobnob as people in good 
 society ordinarily do."
 
 16 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 " But do you never see anybody round 
 here injured by intemperance ? '^ inquired 
 Mary. 
 
 « No, — - that is, but slightly, if at all." 
 
 His sister's eye rested fully upon that 
 of their host. He quailed a little, and 
 added, — 
 
 " Sometimes, indeed, a body gets to 
 drinking hard ; but 'tis generally one who 
 tried at first to abstain totally. When 
 they went at it, for want of being used to 
 good living, they didn't know how to 
 stop, and so made fools of themselves." 
 
 Maryjooked at the flushed, spotted face 
 of the speaker, and wondered if he were 
 injured by this habit. 
 
 William had now put the glass to his 
 lips. 
 
 " O brother, don't ! " exclaimed Mary.
 
 WITH THE GUARDIAN. 17 
 
 " What would our father say, if he were to 
 see you ? " 
 
 " Nonsense, child ! " returned their guar- 
 dian; "take a glass of Tokay or Claret 
 yourself." 
 
 " Not for worlds," cried Mary. 
 
 As she saw her brother drink off the 
 contents of his glass with a keen, delighted 
 gust, she burst into tears. Mr. Jameson 
 laughed so loudly at the spectacle, all were 
 startled. 
 
 " Do not ridicule the child," said Miss 
 Eliza ; " there is truth in what she says." 
 
 "I dare be bound you think so. For 
 one, I prefer sparkling Champagne or good 
 old Bordeaux. Here's to your health and 
 right reason, young miss," he said, as the 
 servant poured the effervescing wine, while 
 
 2*
 
 18 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 he held the glass with a hand so unsteady 
 as to be noticeable. 
 
 William soon became very loud and 
 positive in his tones, affecting an unusual 
 nonchalance to prove his perfect indiffer- 
 ence to the wounded spirit of his sister, 
 and his ability to assert his own manhood 
 despite her opposition. 
 
 No sooner had they retired from the 
 table, than he took a covert opportunity to 
 rebuke her sharply for her " foolish behav- 
 ior." 
 
 " I should have judged," he said, in ex- 
 cited tones, " that you would have had 
 more consideration than to have thus at- 
 tacked my honor before others, and espec- 
 ially such persons as these. Yon know 
 that my honor was always dearer to me 
 than my life."
 
 WITH THE GUAKDIAN. 19 
 
 " Dear William, how can you reconcile 
 your honor with the breaking of a sol- 
 emn pledge, which our father valued so 
 highly ? " Mary ventured, timidly. 
 
 " Can't you see the difference between 
 country and city life, you little simpleton ? 
 Circumstances alter cases. Here I am a 
 gentleman ; there I was a parson's son.-' 
 
 '• Do gentlemen call their sisters names, 
 like what you just now called me ? " 
 
 " How provoking you are ! You have 
 much to learn," William proudly ejacu- 
 lated. 
 
 " I have yet to learn that it is right to 
 do things here which we knew were very 
 sinful at home," said Mary. " But, broth- 
 er," she continued, very tenderly, as if 
 hardly able to keep back her tears, "let 
 us go to God with this important matter.
 
 20 THE RED BEIDGE. 
 
 as our dear parents, if they were here, 
 would desire us to do. He has promised, 
 if we lack wisdom, to give to us liberally, 
 and he upbraideth not." 
 
 " I do not call the drinking of a little 
 good wine at dinner, when urged upon 
 you by yoiu* wiser friends, such an impor- 
 tant matter. I guess, too, that he is too 
 great a Being to descend to such trifling 
 supervision," returned William, more and 
 more irritated. 
 
 Mary went to one of her trunks, and 
 took out a pocket Bible. She said, as she 
 opened it, — 
 
 " This, you know, was our dear father's 
 last gift. He told us, whenever we got 
 into any perplexity to open that, with fer- 
 vent prayer in the heart, and attend to the 
 instruction we found there."
 
 WITH THE GUARDIAN. 21 
 
 She opened it reverently, scarcely expect- 
 ing to find anything so relevant as what 
 met her eyes. She read : " In the day of 
 our king, the princes have made him sick 
 with bottles of wine ; he stretched out his 
 hand with scorners. For they have made 
 ready their heart like an oven, while they 
 lie in wait; their baker sleepeth all the 
 night; in the morning, it burneth as a 
 flaming fire." Hosea vii. 5, 6. 
 
 As she concluded, she lifted her eyes to 
 those of her brother, and there was much 
 meaning in her look. 
 
 " What do you make out of that ? " he 
 asked, with a dry, scornful laugh ; yet he 
 was somewhat impressed despite himself. 
 
 " We learn, from these sacred words," 
 said Mary, "the effects of what we saw 
 to-day upon the dinner-table. K you drink
 
 22 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 of those bottles, you will scorn everything 
 that is good." 
 
 " Especially your good advice, eh ? " 
 
 " And then," continued Mary, without 
 noticing his last remark, " your heart will 
 become prepared for passion like an oven, 
 while your tempters lie in wait. Your 
 conscience will sleep during the night of 
 vice. But, observe, there is a morning of 
 awaking, and then it will burn as a flaming 
 fire." 
 
 " Quite a little preacher, isn't it? " said 
 William, throwing himself upon the bed. 
 " But you tire me like all tedious sermon- 
 izers and speechifiers." 
 
 " O brother! " said Mary, " why w^ill you 
 not be warned in good time ? " 
 
 She could not go on for her grief. 
 
 " Before it is too late, is what comes
 
 WITH THE guardian; 23 
 
 next, according to orthodox fashion," he 
 said. 
 
 She gathered herself on a low stool be- 
 hind one of the window-draperies, and 
 gave way to her sobs. WilKam was soon 
 fast asleep. Every loud, heavy respiration 
 painfully reminded his sister of the effects 
 of his potation at dinner. 
 
 By-and-by she became more calm ; and, 
 rearranging her disordered appearance, 
 went to join Miss Eliza in the parlor. 
 
 " Where is your brother ? " asked Mr. 
 Jameson, entering at the same moment. 
 
 " Asleep, sir," replied Mary. She was 
 about to add, "in consequence of the wine 
 at dinner ; " but, remembering their de- 
 pendence upon the guardian, she checked 
 her speech. 
 
 " I wanted him to take a turn on horse-
 
 24 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 back with me ; but never mind, let him 
 rest. He hasn't got used to affairs here, 
 yet." 
 
 Miss Eliza's reserved, stately manners 
 forbade any attempt at social interchange 
 of conversation on the part of Mary. She 
 found a fine library in the house, from which 
 she carried books to her own room, where 
 she spent much time in reading. William 
 soon commenced attending school in the 
 city, in order to complete his preparations 
 for college. For a time, on Sunday, he at- 
 tended church with his sister; but gradu- 
 ally he absented himself from the house of 
 God on the Sabbath, and spent the time in 
 pernicious reading, or in sleep to recover 
 the strength which he wasted by a pro- 
 tracted vigil on Saturday night. 
 
 His sister, getting alarmed when she dis-
 
 WITH THE GUARDIAN. 25 
 
 covered his late hours, questioned him ; 
 but he evaded her queries by some unim- 
 portant, but false reason. She then re- 
 ferred the matter to their guardian. He said 
 he was probably visiting with some of his 
 school companions ; she had better not give 
 herself any more concern. He was a fine 
 fellow, and very much admired by some of 
 the best fellows in town. 
 
 " Last night," said Mary, " I could not 
 sleep for thinking about him, and I shut 
 not my eyes till long after he came in. I 
 looked at my watch when his foot was on 
 the stairs. It was half-past two o'clock ! " 
 
 " Well, that was once he happened to be 
 out," said Mr. Jameson. " I will speak to 
 him about it. I presume there is some 
 good reason for the delay. It is not wise 
 to dog these high-mettled young fellows
 
 26 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 too closely. They have a spkit which nei- 
 ther you nor I can break." 
 
 The next night, Mary did not retire, but 
 sat up and waited for her brother. The 
 clock struck eleven. He had not come. 
 She then went to the housekeeper's room 
 and asked her to go out with her in search 
 of her brother. " I overheard him talking 
 with Mr. Jameson, yesterday, about being 
 down at the club in Delane's buildings 
 I wish to go there and see for myself." 
 
 " It is not safe for us to go," said Mrs. 
 Kenneth ; " but I will speak to my brother, 
 who works in the next house, and perhaps 
 he will accompany us." 
 
 A half hour later the three went out 
 together. When they had reached the 
 place, the brilliantly-lighted windows indi- 
 cated the rooms. They ascended the pub-
 
 WITH THE GUARDIAN. 27 
 
 lie stairs, and coming to the doors, the top 
 of which were glass windows with red cur- 
 tains, Mrs. Kenneth's brother said he 
 would go in while they might stand back 
 in a dark angle of the space. If William 
 were there, he would remain by the door, 
 draw aside the curtain within, so that they 
 could see for themselves, while the dark- 
 ness without would prevent their being 
 seen. 
 
 He entered and was gone without any 
 sign, a long time, it seemed to the anxious 
 watchers. At last, he came out and said, 
 " I found the poor boy lying on a lounge 
 in one of the ante-rooms they have in read- 
 iness for their tight ones. They told me 
 he was asleep. But I looked sharp, and if 
 he is not dead drunk, my name is not 
 James Rowley. They are all gambhng
 
 28 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 around the tables there, and your brother, 
 like enough, was fleeced nicely before they 
 got hini well stupefied." 
 
 " I must go to him," said Mary, pushing 
 towards the door with a half-frantic 
 gesture. 
 
 " No, miss ; that will not do. They 
 would all take you for a woman about the 
 town, if you were seen in there." 
 
 " I care for nothing but my brother, — 
 my poor, ruined William. My father 
 would wish me to dare life itself for his res- 
 cue, i must go I Stand aside." 
 
 Before they could prevent, she had 
 sprung through that door, and the next mo- 
 ment stood alone in the midst of that 
 scene of brilliant and half-demoniac rev- 
 elry. 
 
 Her large, dark eyes now fired with
 
 WITH THE GUAPtDIAN. 29 
 
 an agony so intense they seemed to burn 
 in their sockets like superhuman fires, lit 
 up her almost death-white face with a 
 startling expression. Even those hardened 
 men, those reckless youth, and the accus- 
 tomed attendants, were arrested in their 
 several pursuits, and paused like persons 
 struck by a spell. 
 
 For a moment she stood still, as if to 
 collect her senses sufficient to discover 
 the way to the apartment in which was 
 her brother. Then, pointing with her 
 finger towards a gray-haired man,^ who 
 sat at the head of a faro-table, she called 
 out to him in a voice not to be mis- 
 taken, as the utterance of a spirit ut- 
 terly abandoned to woe, but yet reserv- 
 ing an irresistible purpose, — 
 
 " Tell me ! — where is my brother ? " 
 3 -
 
 30 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 He neither spoke nor moved. 
 
 " After you have accomplished his ruin, 
 
 — my once innocent, good-hearted brother I 
 
 — will you not tell me where I may find 
 him, and weep tears of blood over his 
 beastly intoxication ? " Then turning to 
 another, who sat next the confounded man, 
 
 — " It is William Winslow I am seeking. 
 He is here, and I will go to him if it costs 
 every life-drop in my veins ! " 
 
 By this time her attendant, James 
 Rowley, had followed and gained her side. 
 " Here," said he, in a low voice, " I will 
 show you where he is." 
 
 He led her to the side of the intoxi- 
 cated youth. Mary's eyes took in the 
 whole truth at a glance. She knelt down 
 by his couch, and suffered her head to 
 fall beside his flushed, bloated face, while 
 she spoke not a word.
 
 WITH THE GUARDIAN. 31 
 
 The now excited crowd of frequenters 
 of that place rushed to the door of the 
 apartment to see what had become of the 
 " insane girl," as they termed her. But 
 the spectacle which met their eyes, one 
 after another, caused them to turn back, 
 with a sharp remorse glancing athwart 
 their souls, even as a lightning flash 
 across a dark storm-sky. 
 
 " The door should always be kept 
 locked," said the man who seemed to 
 preside over those orgies ; " hereafter, if 
 this is not attended to, I will knock down 
 the first servant who disobeys orders." 
 
 " It is one of the curses of life, these 
 women who prowl around after folks 
 where and when they have no business," 
 said another. 
 
 " My young wife will be looking me
 
 32 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 up next," said a thii*d ; " she has been 
 insufferably cross lately," 
 
 " ' Drink,' said Philip to his companions, 
 ' drink, ail is safe for Antipater is awake.' 
 So say I to you, remorseful Benedict. 
 Drink, and I will keep awake to watch 
 that no more of these silly girls disturb 
 our felicity," now spoke a heavy, stern- 
 browed man, who had surveyed the scene 
 for the last few minutes, apparently more 
 amused than disturbed. 
 
 Meantime the poor girl had literally 
 bathed the face of her stupefied brother 
 with her tears, while James, with an at- 
 tendant, had made efforts for his restora- 
 tion to consciousness. It was, however, 
 a full hour before the young man opened 
 his eyes with a look of consciousness. 
 When his gaze fell upon his half-dis-
 
 WITH THE GUARDIAN. 33 
 
 tracted sister, who sat near, wringing her 
 hands, and vainly trying to choke down 
 her convulsive sobs, he started like one 
 with the consciousness of having been 
 shot. 
 
 " Why are you here ? Has anythnig 
 happened ? " he quickly asked. 
 
 " I guess, said James E-owley, " the 
 sooner you get up out of this place and 
 go home with us, the better it will be 
 for your sister, and perhaps for your- 
 self." 
 
 " Do you intend to insult me ? " quickly 
 demanded William, with flashing eyes. 
 
 '^ O brother ! " now spoke Mary, " ask 
 no more questions. You have been intoxi- 
 cated." 
 
 " Yes," said James, " we found you here 
 a while ago, dead drunk."
 
 34 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 " What I what ! " stammered William, 
 confusedly trying to stand erect, " do you 
 implicate my honor? " 
 
 James now took him by the arm, while 
 Mary followed like a soul-stricken mourner, 
 behind ; and they walked out through that 
 long saloon, filled with rioters, drunkards, 
 and gamblers. 
 
 " What think you, pretty inspector of 
 customs and so forth, of this place ? " called 
 out one of the boldest of the bacchanals, 
 as she brushed past his chair. 
 
 In a state of desperation bordering upon 
 frenzy, she replied, with a tone which sent 
 a cold chill to every one of those hearts, 
 hardened to flint though most of them 
 were, — 
 
 " The place of a skull. Yokt wine is 
 mingled with a poison which shall gnaiv you 
 some day, to the quick of your souls .'"
 
 WITH THE GUARDIAN. 35 
 
 The door closed with a clang. She was 
 gone. 
 
 " I hate such scenes," said a man, sad- 
 der-eyed than his fellows. " It would be 
 worth while to die, to get rid of all of 
 them." 
 
 " It is a question whether we should not 
 then be jumping out of the frying-pan into 
 the fire. We might make a bad matter 
 worse, I reckon," was heard in reply. 
 
 No sooner had the staggering, stammer- 
 ing brother been safely conducted to his 
 bed, than Mary went to her own room, but 
 not to rest a moment that night. The 
 recent terrible excitement, for which her 
 delicate organization and refined nurture 
 had rendered her totally unprepared, had 
 wrought too subtilely into her very being. 
 
 The next morning she was found in a
 
 36 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 state of high fever. Her delirious cries re- 
 specting her brother, were enough to shake 
 the stoutest heart. William visited her 
 bedside as rarely as possible ; and then, 
 notwithstanding his efforts to maintain the 
 appearance of a " gentleman " and a " man 
 of honor," he really seemed more like a cul- 
 prit in the presence of the sister whom he 
 had so much injured. 
 
 At length the physician said that her life 
 hung, as it were, upon a thread. She 
 might not survive the approaching crisis. 
 William seemed now fully aroused to her 
 critical situation ; and his good angel was 
 allowed to so far recover the ascendency as 
 to persuade him to cry unto God for the 
 precious life of his sister. 
 
 " If she dies," he groaned bitterly in the 
 solitude of his own thoughts, " I shall be
 
 WITH i^HE GUARDIAN. 37 
 
 her murderer. The brand of Caui will 
 evermore be on my brow. Then spare her, 
 O my Father ! Spare her, and I will vow 
 to reform and be a new man. If I keep 
 not this vow, and her life is once more 
 given to me, thou mayest take my life as 
 the price of the broken vow." 
 
 On the sad night which was to decide 
 her fate for life or death, William remained 
 like one fixed by invisible chains in the sick- 
 chamber. He scarcely dared move or 
 speak. About midnight she appeared to 
 be dymg. The windows were thrown up 
 and the doors opened. 
 
 " Terrible, terrible ! " he thought ; " the 
 last time she ever saw me in the face, I 
 was half-stupefied with liquor, — and I 
 have killed her. My poor sister! What
 
 38 THE RED BillDGE. 
 
 tidings will she bear to my father and 
 mother ? " 
 
 Next, a low, faint cry was heard. 
 
 " Water, water," murmured the sick girl, 
 unclosing her eyes and looking around from 
 one to another of the anxious watchers. 
 
 " It is beautiful," she said, as it was held 
 to her lips. " I just saw father. I would 
 have gone to him, for it was so lovely 
 where he was, but he shook his head and 
 said, — ' No, my child, not yet.' It was 
 just as natural as though he had really 
 spoken to me." 
 
 " She will live," said the physician ; 
 and he motioned William to leave the 
 room, lest the sight of him should prove 
 dangerous in her present weak condition. 
 
 William went to his room, fell upon 
 his knees, and repeated his vow.
 
 II. 
 
 fT was now early June, and Gilbert 
 .^^^ Jameson, with his household, had 
 ^^^ left the city for his country-house 
 in Welfield, a small village some half- 
 score of miles from the city. JMary had 
 so far recovered her strength as to 
 keenly enjoy the change to the pure 
 country air, the stillness, and the rare 
 beauty which surrounded the residence 
 on every side. 
 
 On the day following their arrival, she 
 sat in her chamber, awaiting the return 
 of her brother from the city, — whither 
 he went daily to continue his attend- 
 
 (39)
 
 40 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 ance at school, until the vacation. A 
 thin mist, but half-blending the chrome- 
 green leaves of the trees, spread softly 
 over the valley which lay in undulating 
 beauty between the place and the build- 
 ings of the thriving little village, from 
 whence William would walk from the 
 depot. This gossamer mist was a thought- 
 making softener of landscape-effects, hov- 
 ering like a dream over the wet grass of 
 early summer, which grew so magically 
 in the humid atmosphere, the god Heim- 
 dal, as of old, could have heard its deli- 
 catest waxings into newer life. 
 
 Mary wrote rapidly in order to con- 
 clude her self-imposed task before the 
 coming of her brother, — which was the 
 copying of one of his school-compositions, 
 she that particularly liked, into her note-
 
 CONSEQUENCES. 41 
 
 book. But as the twilight stole on, hardly- 
 perceived, she was forced to drop her 
 pen. Then, turning her back to the 
 window, from which she had once more 
 strained her vision to catch a glimpse 
 of the beloved form, in vain, she looked 
 away into vacuity and repeated the title 
 of his Theme : " He conquers, who con- 
 quers himself." Thoughts of the possi- 
 bilities of the rather dark-looking future 
 welled up in her soul. William had not 
 appeared of late as he had for several 
 weeks after her illness. He was more 
 irritable when questioned, and there was 
 something about his manner which in- 
 dicated a concealed anxiety and unrest, 
 for which she was at a loss to account. 
 But a day or two since, he had applied 
 to her for the loan of her quarterly al- 
 
 4*
 
 42 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 lowance from their benevolent guardian; 
 and when told that she had not yet re- 
 ceived it, he had said impatiently that she 
 must ask Mr. Jameson for the money, on 
 some pretext or other, that she might 
 obtain it for his use. She asked him 
 what disposition he made of his own 
 ample allowance. He had assigned sev- 
 eral reasons why it had not proved 
 sufficient, but none of them had been 
 satisfactory. 
 
 " If I only had entire confidence in him, 
 how different I should feel ! " she sighed to 
 herself. 
 
 " He conquers, who conquers himself, — 
 vincitf qui se vincit,^^ — she repeated. " But 
 has William half conquered himself yet? 
 True, he writes finely upon the noble 
 theme, and when I have been talking with
 
 CONSEQUENCES. 43 
 
 him, since my days of hovering between 
 life and death, he has sometimes spoken 
 tenderly, and has even wept with appar- 
 ently deep emotion. 
 
 " ' It is so hard,' he said, but yesterday, 
 * to resist the strong temptations which al- 
 lure on every side, when one has a dispo- 
 sition to please one's self.' In yom- own 
 strength, it is indeed hard, I said ; but do 
 you depend on Him who alone is able to 
 preserve us from failing ? ' I am afraid 
 not,' was his reply. I, too, am afraid that 
 he neglects secret prayer, the true safeguard 
 of the soul, as our father often has said. 
 When I remind him of these important du- 
 ties, he laughs, and says I am supersti- 
 tious." 
 
 Mary now opened the pocket Bible, ac- 
 cording to her custom in moments of anx-
 
 44 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 iety. She could scarcely discern one word 
 from another ; but she made out, — " This 
 is the victory that overcometh, even our 
 faith." 
 
 That divine word faith touched the cur- 
 rent of her pulsing thought, as words sent 
 by angels only can. A new revelation of 
 meaning opened before the drift of her 
 emotion. 
 
 As in mathematics certain numbers are 
 wrought into given quantities by means of 
 affixed indices or powers, so these power- 
 inspired words have hidden meanings, — 
 revelations within revelations, which grow 
 upon the spiritual recognition until the 
 simple word-stone, cut out of the eternal 
 mountain, fills the whole soul. 
 
 " I will go below," she said, at length, 
 " and see if William has not come. The
 
 CONSEQUENCES. 45 
 
 time of his arrival must have been due 
 some minutes ago." 
 
 She had scarcely reached the landing, 
 when she met a strange gentleman, fol- 
 lowed by JVIr. Jameson, whose excited 
 manner at once arrested her attention. 
 Her first apprehension was for William; 
 and she was about to ask her guardian if 
 anything had happened to him, when they 
 both brushed by, apparently intent on busi- 
 ness of their own, and, after making the 
 circuit of the principal rooms in the house, 
 repaired to the library, and locked them- 
 selves within. With a confused impres- 
 sion that all was not right, Mary sought 
 Miss Eliza. 
 
 That lady sat motionless ; but the rigid, 
 tense lines of her face revealed that a great 
 emotion of some kind was shut up in her
 
 46 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 soul. .To Mary's hurried inquiries, she an- 
 swered in the briefest possible manner, 
 finally requesting to be left to herself. But 
 Mary found Mrs. Kenneth more intelligent 
 upon the matter. 
 
 " Who would have dreamed we should 
 ever have hved to this day?" she ejacu- 
 lated. 
 
 " Pray do not keep me longer in sus- 
 pense," said Mary. " What can have hap- 
 pened ? " 
 
 " I can't exactly say for certain," she re- 
 plied, " but Jones (indicating the coach- 
 man) says that the stranger who came out 
 to-night, and has been prowling around 
 here for the last hour with master, is a 
 sheriff. He overheard them talking to- 
 gether, and it seems that master has met 
 with great losses lately, by giving bail
 
 CONSEQUENCES. 47 
 
 for some friend or other ; and things have 
 smashed up so that all the property here 
 and in town is attached." 
 
 " Dreadful ! " exclaimed Mary. " When 
 Mr. Jameson is so kind, too ! " 
 
 " Yes ; it is just like him to ruin himself 
 for his friends, any day ; that is, it is like 
 him for these few years last past. Be- 
 tween you and me, Miss Mary " (lowering 
 her voice to a whisper), " master has greatly 
 changed from what he was once. He 
 used to be a right shrewd man ; but, — I 
 don't know as I ought to tell you, — 
 haven't you noticed nothing since you 
 came to live with us ? " 
 
 " To what do you refer ? " asked Mary. 
 
 " Don't you think master carries a rather 
 red face, and isn't he a great deal more 
 social, sometimes, — just after dinner, for
 
 48 THE BED BRIDGE. 
 
 instance, — than he is in the morning ? 
 And what do you think he shuts himself 
 up for, sometimes, whole days together ? " 
 
 " He says he has dreadful headache 
 spells," returned Mary. 
 
 " But you never hear Miss Eliza say so 
 of him, — do you ? " 
 
 " I don't think she does." 
 
 " Not she, nor I, nor any of us who 
 know. It is something much worse than 
 a common headache, I assure you. Poor 
 man ! it is such a pity he can't drink just 
 enough, and then stop." 
 
 " No," replied Mary ; " the pity is that 
 he drinks at all. Just enough is not any^ 
 which quantity alone is safe." 
 
 " Perhaps so," she said ; " for there is 
 Jones and Pelley, who always drink what 
 is left at dinner, and steal out of master's
 
 CONSEQUEXCES. 49 
 
 wine-cellar a bottle or so whenever they 
 can ; and they get half-seas-over every 
 once in a while. They have both been 
 threatened with a walking-ticket if they're 
 caught at their old tricks again. I hope 
 they'll get their dues before long ; for two 
 more silly, obstinate fellows the sun never 
 shines on, than they both." 
 
 The outer door was now heard to shut, 
 whereupon the footman returned to the 
 kitchen, rubbing his hands and looking 
 mysterious. 
 
 " Who was that ? " asked IMi's. Kenneth. 
 
 " Couldn't be after telling yer honor at 
 all. It's niver safe to commit big sacrets 
 to women ; for they's no sacrets iver after, 
 sure." 
 
 " I know," said JVIrs. Kenneth, with a 
 confident air. 
 
 5
 
 50 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 " And what did yez be after axing for, 
 thin?" 
 
 " To see if you knew as much as I do, 
 which, of course, you do not." 
 
 " Do you know whether my brother has 
 returned to night?" now asked Mary of 
 Pelley. 
 
 " I haven't seen him at all, miss, an' I 
 be thinkin' he'll stop over in the city to- 
 night, as the cars have been here and gone 
 this more'n thin an hour." 
 
 " I am so sorry ! " ejaculated Mary to 
 herself. 
 
 " Yes," said Pelley ; " it's a pity a 
 young gintleman of the likes of him 
 couldn't be after a little more of the 
 sobriety. Ye see, miss," he continued, 
 perceiving IMary's look of astonishment at 
 his words, " me cousin it is who lives in
 
 CONSEQUENCES. 51 
 
 one of the grand saloons of the city ; and 
 he was jest up to tellin' me, last Sunday, 
 what a botheration it was to have the 
 young gintlemen with a plinty of money 
 in their pockets a comin' there, and then a 
 gettin' drunk for him to look after them ; 
 and thin, whin they'd gambled away all 
 their money, they'd nothin' to git away 
 with, till he had to go round an' borrow 
 enough to git thim off away in any dacent 
 shape, at all." 
 
 " Did your cousin say that my brother 
 was one of these?" asked Mary, turning 
 very pale. 
 
 " Why, ye see, miss, I shouldn't be after 
 letting on what he tells me about his 
 business, and perhaps, — perhaps Master 
 William wasn't there among the lot o' 
 fellows."
 
 52 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 " Of course, he wasn't," said Mrs. Ken- 
 neth winking at Pelley with a look of 
 alarm. 
 
 Mary now went away and hurriedly 
 sought her chamber. 
 
 " Don't you remember she took so sick 
 with that fever, all because of that worth- 
 less brother of hers ? Why could you not 
 take my warning and hold your lips in 
 season ? " said Mrs. Kenneth. 
 
 " I'd be blasted if I's after thinkin' at all, 
 at all, and she as white as a shate all the 
 time. She's a nice young leddy, is Miss 
 Mary, and I'd see the apple of me own 
 eyes drop oot and fall to the ground, be- 
 fore I'd wound her illegant feelings, if I'd 
 ha' thought. Och botheration ! " 
 
 " While the world stands," said Mrs. 
 Kenneth, " there must always be somebody
 
 CONSEQUENCES. 53 
 
 like that good-for-nothing brother of hers, 
 to torment a good woman's soul out of her 
 body, piecemeal, as it were." 
 
 " It's very fortunate. Mistress Kenneth, 
 that your sek is made to be endurin' the 
 sufFerin', an so ye jest take to it naturally 
 like. If it wasn't for the likes of us, ye'd 
 have nothin' to do, worth mentionin' at all, 
 faix ! " 
 
 It was indeed fortunate for the Irish- 
 man that he made his escape at that mo- 
 ment, for had he remained, it is doubtful 
 if the other " sek " had not suffered the 
 most on this occasion, at least in the war 
 of words. 
 
 It was not very late that night when 
 Mary heard a knock on her door, and, obey- 
 ing the summons, found Miss Eliza there, 
 in a state of excitement of such a nature 
 
 5 *
 
 54 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 as she had not supposed that apparently 
 impassive lady to have been capable. 
 
 " My brother is very sick," she said in 
 suppressed tones, " and both the men-ser- 
 vants, it appears, took this occasion to get 
 into such a state of intoxication, that they 
 knew not their right hand from their left, 
 and so I see no other way than for you to 
 go to the village for a physician, as Ken- 
 neth's services are required with me in 
 attending to Mr. Jameson." 
 
 " Certainly," replied Mary, '' I am glad 
 to be of help to you." 
 
 " After all," said she, " I suppose you 
 do not even know the way to the doctor's 
 house, and, as it is in the evening, it would 
 be unsafe for you, even here in this quiet 
 place. Would you dare take Kenneth's 
 place with me at his bedside while she 
 goes for aid ? "
 
 CONSEQUENCES. 55 
 
 " Dare ? Why not ? I am not unused 
 to sickness," returned Mary. 
 
 "But you are probably unused to such 
 sickness as this," that lady returned, bit- 
 terly. 
 
 Mary followed Miss Eliza without fur- 
 ther delay, but when they reached the sick 
 man's door, Miss Eliza stopped as if 
 dreading to enter. 
 
 " Do not be frightened," she said ; " he is 
 out of his head to-night, in consequence 
 of the great pressure of business to-day." 
 
 A strange sensation fell upon her mind, 
 as Mary followed the sister into her guar- 
 dian's room and heard his wild ravings, for 
 she was all unused to madness in even its 
 mildest forms. 
 
 IMr. Jameson's bloodshot eyes glared on 
 her as she entered, so that she moved be-
 
 56 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 hind the figure of Mrs. Kenneth, who was 
 about going out, to collect herself for the 
 dreaded spectacle. 
 
 " You need not be afraid," whispered 
 that woman, " for Miss Eliza and I have 
 bound him into his bed with such strong 
 cords it will take him some time to break 
 them. I saw that the fit was coming on, 
 and while he lay for a few minutes in one 
 of the stupors, we got complete mastery 
 of him." 
 
 " Give me some brandy, will you, girl ? " 
 he said in a tone of persuasive command. 
 " There, in my closet, you will find a 
 pretty good supply for the present. What ! 
 do you hesitate ? " he continued in a 
 louder tone, " when there sits the demon 
 Ruin, with his horrible grinning, and those 
 snakes crawling up from the floor, with
 
 CONSEQUENCES. 57 
 
 their mouths open at me I The electrical 
 eels of the Orinoco and the slimy gym- 
 noti which you see there all over the wall, 
 are here to do my bidding." 
 
 Miss EKza held a glass of liquor to his 
 mouth, which he drank off with a beastly 
 ferocity. " That is the bibendi,^'' he cried ; 
 "the imp, there, over the chandelier, ap- 
 proves. See here, Mary, you once asked 
 me if drinking wine did not injm-e any 
 of us ? You have here convincing proof 
 of the good there is in all sorts of liquors. 
 I have fourteen different brands in my wine- 
 cellar, and every one is a golden flower from 
 the wreath of immortelles^ which crowns 
 Beelzebub. * Drink, and remember your 
 misery no more, ' cries Ruin, there ! " 
 
 The poor man gradually ceased his 
 ravings, grew incoherent, and finally lapsed 
 into a temporary fit of stupidity.
 
 58 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 Mary, sick at heart, turned her eyes 
 away from that scene of wretchedness. 
 In so doing, they accidentally rested upon 
 an open manuscript- volume, which lay on 
 the writing-desk, just behind her chair. 
 Without any effort, in the full light of 
 the chandelier, she read, in the weU-known 
 chirography of her guardian, as follows : — 
 
 " Welcome my Journal in these moments 
 of new and exquisite anguish? A de- 
 cisive blow has just been struck at my 
 heart, and I bleed at every pore. Yester- 
 day, I thought I was good for at least a 
 cool half-million. To-night I find myself 
 a victim to inevitable ruin. I lent my 
 name, — fool that I was ! — to my old friend 
 Dillingsly, to back him in some grand 
 speculations, which he calculated would 
 make a splendid return. They have all
 
 CONSEQUENCES. 59 
 
 broken and gone up to the idle winds. 
 My fortune, which my father toiled so 
 long and so hard to amass, has gone with 
 them I 
 
 " I should have known better, I sup- 
 pose, than to lend my name to so much 
 paper ; but he always used to get me into 
 his house and order on some new, choice 
 liquor he had just imported, which he 
 wished me to try ; and then, after I had 
 well drank, he could come the wool over 
 my eyes. I see it all when it is too late. 
 There is no remedy now; my mind and 
 soul may as well keep my estate company 
 in ruin. 
 
 " I will drink without stint till my cellar 
 is drained, and then, — why, then I will 
 go mad, and shoot myself, for aught I 
 know."
 
 60 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 Mary closed the book to shut from 
 sight the record of the wasted life, which 
 touched her own heart even to blinding 
 tears. The poor victim to delirium tre- 
 mens now attempted to beat something in 
 the ah' above him ; then, unclosing his 
 eyes, seemed to listen a moment. 
 
 " One of the voices just spoke to me 
 from up there in that rift in the clouds, he 
 said. * Gilbert,' I heard as plain as ever my 
 mother spoke to me when she was alive. 
 My name ! how it sounded on those pure 
 lips ! Anxiously I waited to catch what 
 the voice said next ; but, just then, a dark 
 spnit came, and spread his choking wings 
 all over my face, so that I could see nor 
 hear no more." 
 
 At this moment the village physician 
 entered, and Mary gladly resigned her 
 post of watcher over the sick man.
 
 III. 
 
 (5omci to tlje Wiux, 
 
 fHE next day Mary received the fol- 
 
 r.A lowing letter from William : — 
 
 ^ " My dear Sister : — 
 
 " When you were seized with 
 that fearful sickness, I reflected much on 
 what I was, and what I had been, and I 
 made a vow to God that if he would 
 spare your life, I would reform and hence- 
 forth take a new and different course. I 
 also vowed that if he heard my prayer so 
 as to spare your life, and I should fail of 
 keeping my promise of reformation, I 
 
 6 (61)
 
 62 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 would willingly give up my life as the 
 penalty. 
 
 " For some time after your life was given 
 back to me, I was reformed. I attended 
 steadily to my appointed duties and re- 
 gained some of my lost standing in my 
 classes. When my old companions who 
 helped lead me away tried their influence 
 anew, I was strong enough to resist them 
 all and go right on, looking neither to the 
 right nor the left. But one day, when you 
 and Miss Eliza were out, I dined with our 
 guardian, and he pressed me so hard to 
 drink with him, I yielded. An hour after, 
 I went out on the street in order to walk 
 down my remorse. I met one of those 
 wild young bloods who know just how to 
 go at a fellow the right way to lead him 
 on to his ruin; he took me by the arm and
 
 GOING TO THE WAR. 63 
 
 before I was hardly aware, I was in the 
 old club-room again. It was then early 
 evening, and as a few of the choice ones 
 were already there, they urged me to sit 
 down and play for a new and attractive 
 book which was offered as the stake. I 
 hesitated, remembering distinctly my vow. 
 
 " ' But after all,' thought I, ' it is only for 
 a book, and anything so trifling as such a 
 stake, can hardly be scrupulously included 
 in the spmt of my vow. I yielded. The 
 game concluded and the book was mine.' 
 
 " ' Good ! ' cried my companions ; * he de- 
 serves something after his long vigils in si- 
 lence and seclusion. This will cheer him 
 up.' 
 
 " The rest of them soon engaged in a new 
 game with a stake of fifty dollars. Just 
 one more fellow was wanted to complete
 
 64 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 the compliment of players desired. They 
 fell upon me with the most friendly and 
 persuasive words. I refused, and then 
 they taunted me with meanness. My blood 
 rose immediately, for my honor could not 
 stand a charge like that. I joined them 
 without further parley. 
 
 " This time, the successful winner was 
 not me, and I was one of five who 
 must make up the sum. I took out 
 my porte-monnaie and found I had but 
 nine dollars, and two of these I had 
 received from you, with which to exe- 
 cute a commission to the bookstore. 
 I resolved to say nothing, but to play 
 one game more, when I might recover 
 the lost sum, and, perhaps, make some- 
 thing. Four games more I played, and 
 found myself just one hundred and
 
 GOING TO THE WAR. 65 
 
 twenty-five dollars in debt. I was so 
 chagrined I readily accepted the liquor 
 proffered me by my ' good friends ' who 
 had fleeced me= I drank till I was a 
 beast again. The next day I went to 
 'our guardian for money, representing my 
 urgent need to defray some school-ex- 
 penses. He kindly gave me one hundred 
 dollars. Still I was in debt, and the next 
 night did not hesitate to play. I won 
 and I lost, won and lost, till I was 
 nearly in a state of frenzy. This caused 
 me to so neglect my studies, I was first 
 reprimanded by my teachers ; then I vras 
 suspended; yesterday I was expelled in 
 disgrace. Last night I took my resolu- 
 tion. I have enlisted as a common sol- 
 dier, to join the regiment which leaves 
 to-morrow, hoping that I shall be shot 
 
 6 *
 
 66 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 by the rebels at the first good opportu- 
 nity. I will keep at least one vow I 
 have made in my life. So end my 
 dreams of college. 
 
 " Mary ! the great mistake of my life 
 was the breaking of the Temperance 
 Pledge which I signed when we lived at 
 home. You did your duty. Oh ! that I 
 had taken heed to your warning words! 
 But it required a stout heart to resist the 
 temptation of seductive liquors, on every 
 dinner-table, before one's eyes, — a stouter 
 one than mine, with my self-will and high 
 spirit, v/hich father never made to yield. 
 
 " If ever there was a miserable per- 
 son in the world, it is myself. Not yet 
 but a month over eighteen, and ruined, 
 hopelessly ruined I" — 
 
 " Oh I say not those bitter words, my
 
 SOIXG TO THE WAR. 67 
 
 dear brother ! " cried Mary aloud in the 
 solitude of her own room. " While there 
 is life, there is surely some hope ! " But 
 she read on : 
 
 " My sister, I passed a great tempta- 
 tion a few days ago, and did not yield. 
 Mr. Jameson sent by me to withdraw 
 five hundred dollars from the bank, for 
 him. I wanted the money. I thought 
 it all over, and I could not do it. I 
 might have kept it, and said I was 
 robbed ; but, you see, I can resist. At 
 all events, I am not a knave like what 
 that would make me. My bounty-money 
 I shall divide with you. Enclosed, please 
 find a draft for two hundred and fifty. 
 It is my last gift to you. The rest I 
 shall have to take for my outfit, and to 
 pay my debts contracted by play.
 
 68 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 " Offer my thanks to Mr. Jameson for 
 all his kindness, and for his written con- 
 sent to my enlisting, which I obtained 
 by means of a friend. I enclose a list 
 of articles which I wish you to send to 
 me without delay, as I shall not go 
 out to Welfield again. If you have a 
 mind to take your last look of your 
 brother, you will find me at the South- 
 street depot, to-morrow afternoon, at half- 
 past three. Our company leave the city 
 by the four o'clock ti'ain. 
 
 " Yours in haste, 
 
 " William Wutslow " 
 
 Many have been the sad partings be- 
 tween hearts knit to hearts by the tender- 
 est ties, before the departure of military 
 companies bound for the war ; but few
 
 GOING TO THE WAR. 69 
 
 could have been more touching than that 
 between the brother and sister on this 
 sorrowful occasion. 
 
 There are certain events in life, which 
 fall from the regions of divine Providence, 
 upon our consciousness, like those aero- 
 lites, or meteoric stones, which come down 
 from above, as a reminder of the changes 
 which are going forward in a sphere be- 
 yond the scope of our penetration. Cer- 
 tain other events may be likened to that 
 ominous pause which invariably precedes 
 the approaching earthquake. Portentous 
 silence and gloom ! We know not then * 
 what the coming moments will bring. 
 Imagination, ever powerful to heighten 
 the possibilities within the scope of dread, 
 pictures a sketch which often proves of 
 gi-eater and more formidable proportions 
 than the reality.
 
 70 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 "When the long box brings home to 
 us all that remahis on earth of our be- 
 loved one, who bravely sacrificed his life 
 for liberty and patriotism ; or when the 
 telegram arrives, announcing that our 
 heart's treasure has been shot and is to 
 be bmied on the strange, far-off field 
 of carnage, we have a certainty, — sud- 
 den, terrible, astounding ; nevertheless, a 
 certainty. There are innate capabilities 
 for grapphng with the sternest realities. 
 But the dread, fortuitous circumstances, 
 which brood over suspense, are thridded 
 with a power which gnaws, little by little, 
 till the very foundations of the life are 
 undermined. 
 
 Perhaps this is the saddest of all the 
 sad scenes of our life, — this giving our 
 beloved ones to the dread chances, or we
 
 GOING TO THE WAR. 71 
 
 may better call them the solemn provi- 
 dences of a military "campaign, far away 
 from home and home friends. Who, that 
 has ever participated in this unspeakable 
 event, cannot say with an infinite index 
 of meaning, " I knowP 
 
 Doubly sad was this parting, for there 
 was lacking the sustaining consciousness 
 of uprightness, integrity, Vv^hich, if pre- 
 served, cancels many, if not all, of the 
 bitterest pangs of life. 
 
 " So you thought you would come to 
 see me oif," said William, as he met his 
 sister on that afternoon, advancing through 
 the crowd at the depot. 
 
 " Nothing but an insurmountable ob- 
 str.cle v7ould have kept me away," replied 
 Mary. 
 
 " Let us go aside, vv^here we can remain
 
 72 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 by ourselves," said he, offering her his 
 arm. " We have but a short time, and 
 then we part to see each other's faces no 
 more." 
 
 " Say not so, brother," said Mary, en- 
 deavoring to assume a hopefuhiess of 
 manner which she could not feel. 
 
 " I deserve nothins: less after doins: what 
 I have done," he continued, bitterly. 
 
 Mary wisely saw that this was no time 
 for recrimination; if, indeed, this time ever 
 comes, and she strove to encourage him, 
 and kindle high and pure hopes for the 
 future. 
 
 " Again and again have I resolved to 
 reform," he said, " and now see what is 
 the result, - — ashes of hopes ! " 
 
 " Bnt as from the ashes, the ancients 
 believed a be:iutiful bird to have sprung,
 
 GOING TO THE WAR. 73 
 
 SO from the waste and desolation of your 
 spirit, my dear William, suffer the dove 
 to fly upward, bearing aloft new aspira- 
 tions and ambitions, in the name of Him 
 who alone hath power to forgive and re- 
 store. Believe me, it will return one day 
 with the olive-branch in its mouth." 
 
 William shook his head and sighed. 
 
 " There is poetiy in your figure, but 
 not truth. Iron-faced reality portends an- 
 other vision." 
 
 " Your iron-faced reality, like Janus, 
 has two sides. The one is gloom, the 
 other joy. If thou doest weU, thou shalt 
 be accepted ; if not, sin lieth at the door. 
 There is forgiveness with God. The dis- 
 ciple, who thrice denied his Master, was 
 restored to favor. No one is so lost, but 
 there is hope for him. This is the un-
 
 74 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 utterably glorious provision of the gospel 
 of our Lord and Saviour, and this it is 
 which makes the atoning Name above 
 every other name." 
 
 " Mary, I was born for woe. I remem- 
 ber, when we were children, being struck 
 with the difference between you and my- 
 self." His voice faltered so that he could 
 not go on. 
 
 " Yes, dear brother, I, too, remember 
 those days, and you were far more tender 
 and loving than I was. You could not 
 bear to have me out of your sight, scarcely 
 a moment. Father used to speak of it to 
 our visitors, and he said he supposed it 
 was because we had so early lost our 
 mother. He also said that you were like 
 her and her family. William, she is in ex- 
 istence now, and, though I cannot prove it, 
 I believe she watches over us."
 
 GOING TO THE WAR. 75 
 
 " I hope not," said William, much moved. 
 
 " To me the idea is a beautiful one," 
 Mary went on, " and yet not half so pre- 
 cious as the actual consciousness of the 
 truth that there is One, who ever liveth to 
 make intercession for us, who knoweth our 
 frame and remembereth that we are but 
 dust, and who for all our temptations is 
 faithful to provide a way of escape, if we^ 
 will but accept it." 
 
 " There is no escape for such a broken 
 vow as 1 have on my soul. I promised 
 my life, and I am going to keep that 
 promise, at least." 
 
 " Dear brother, can you not see that 
 your idea of this is not less a temptation 
 to sin ? Last night, after I had read your 
 letter for perhaps the tenth time, I turned 
 to the Dictionary of Theology and found
 
 76 THE EED BRIDGE. 
 
 that a vow is ' a promise made to God of 
 a thing which we think to be agreeable to 
 him, and which we are not, on other 
 grounds, obliged to render to him.' Now 
 it is clear to me, that it is not agreeable to 
 him that you should make such a rash 
 vow. Your life is not your own, and you 
 have no right to throw away what belongs 
 ^to another." ' .' 
 
 " Right or wrong," said William, " it is 
 the best thing I can do. If I live to man- 
 hood, I shall be good for nothing, because 
 I cannot resist strong drink, and then 
 when I drink, the next thing is play." 
 
 "Hitherto," said Mary, "you have 
 tried to reform in your own strength, 
 trusting to the valor of your own indepen- 
 dent will. If you wiU rely entirely upon 
 God, pray often to him to keep you from
 
 GOING TO THE WAR. 77 
 
 falling, and watching thereunto with all 
 perseverance, as the holy word teaches, 
 you may yet come off conqueror. Oh, 
 my brother, my twin spirit, how can I 
 give up that you will not be yet all that 
 the high hopes of my heart once promised 
 for you ? " 
 
 " Did IVIr. Jameson, send me no mes- 
 sage ? " now asked William. 
 
 " Have you not heard what has hap- 
 pened to him ? " returned Mary. 
 
 « No, — what can it be ? " 
 
 " But two days since, it came out that 
 he is ruined as to estate, and I fear in 
 mind, as well." 
 
 She then related the cu'cumstances as 
 best she could, not omitting the wretched 
 scene of his attack of the delirium tremens, 
 from which he had not yet recovered. 
 
 .7*
 
 78 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 " What now is to become of you, 
 Mary ? " was William's next question. 
 
 "He who careth for the sparrows, will 
 not forget the poor orphan," she said 
 with quivering lips. 
 
 " And you were not going to say any- 
 thing to me of this great affliction which 
 has suddenly cut off all your prospects ? " 
 
 " I thought you had difficulty enough 
 of your own," she added after a silence on 
 both sides. 
 
 " If I had known this," said William, " I 
 would have saved all my bounty-money 
 for you. Poor child ! what will you do ? " 
 
 " What is that you are doing with your 
 gun ? " now asked Mary, in order to divert 
 his attention from the painful subject. 
 
 " Since we sat here, I have been cutting 
 your initials on my gun-stock, that when-
 
 GOING TO THE WAR. 79 
 
 ever my eye falls on them, I may think of 
 you and of this bitter moment." 
 
 " I will imprint a kiss on them," she said, 
 bravely choking back her tears. 
 
 " And I, also," said he, " that the deed 
 may be strongly sealed." 
 
 At this juncture, a signal was given to 
 get aboard the train, which would now 
 leave in a few minutes. 
 
 The brother folded all he had to love 
 closely to his heart, bathed her brow with 
 kisses, then dashed through the crowd and 
 left Mary standing among the hurrying 
 persons like one in a dream. 
 
 Suddenly a loud, prolonged noise, like 
 the mad yell of an Indian, smote all the 
 air. It proceeded from a source so near to 
 Mary, who stood before one of the car-win- 
 dows, she sprung like one who had been
 
 80 • THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 hurt. She looked about her hurriedly, and 
 perceived William at a window a few steps 
 away. He motioned her to approach. 
 
 " It is a drunken man of our company," 
 he said in a low tone. " He has been using 
 his canteen for the last half hour, and now 
 he is in such a state he hardly knows 
 enough to keep on his seat." 
 
 " Dreadful ! " exclaimed Mary, turning 
 deathly pale as the memories of the past 
 floated before her vision. 
 
 Another beastly screech now escaped 
 from the soldier, whose uncovered head 
 was rolling from side to side, while his 
 body was partially supported by one of his 
 companions. His eyes wore that ex- 
 pression of maudlin abandon which is far 
 more frightful to behold than the fixed, cold . 
 stare of the corpse, and his tongue some-
 
 GOING TO THE WAR.* 81 
 
 times protruded beyond his open lips, as he 
 attempted to call out to his fellow for more 
 drink. 
 
 " Fare — fare — we-weU — well — ell ! " now 
 screamed the poor fellow, giving a lunge 
 forward, and endeavoring to thrust his di- 
 shevelled head firom the car-window. 
 
 "Dearest William!" exclaimed Mary, 
 "look there," indicating a poor woman 
 who sat back on a step of the platform, with 
 her face hidden in her hands, while her 
 sobs convulsed her whole frame ; " that is 
 his mother, I know by the way she just 
 looked at him. What a parting with a 
 son who leaves her for the war ! " 
 
 The bell rang. 
 
 " Mary, believe me, from this moment 
 I will try to be a different man, for your 
 sweet sake " said William amid tears.
 
 82 • THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 " Heaven help and bless you, brother." 
 
 Another yell from the inebriate, the 
 cars moved off, and Mary stood there 
 for the first time fully conscious of her 
 desolation. 
 
 The sight of the poor mother now 
 reminded Mary that there were those who 
 had cause for deeper woe than herself. 
 Half unconsciously she advanced towards 
 her, and said, in tones of heartfelt sym- 
 pathy, " It is very sad, is it not ? " 
 
 " Nobody knows what real misery is, 
 here, as I do," replied the woman, lift- 
 ing her head, and discovering an ex- 
 pression of sorrow which haunted Mary's 
 vision for weeks after. " My son, my 
 son! would to God I could die for 
 you ! " she continued, wringing her hands 
 convulsively. " And he was once so
 
 GOING TO THE WAR. 83 
 
 good and true-hearted, — the pride of 
 his widowed mother's heart! Why was 
 I born for such trouble as this?" 
 
 She rose up, walked away, and Mary 
 saw that face in reality, no more. 
 
 On returning to Welfield, she said to 
 herself, in the solitude of her own cham- 
 ber, " A new life is before me. Here- 
 tofore I have been a timid, dependent 
 girl; but now I must take up the bur- 
 dens of life, and bear them onward 
 alone. My course in the future is all 
 undefined, but I will seek direction from 
 Him who turns not a deaf ear to the 
 cry of the humble and desolate. I re- 
 member that it is written : * In all their 
 affliction, he was afflicted, and the angel 
 of his presence saved them.' " 
 
 While Mr. Jameson remained a vie-
 
 84 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 tim of his illness, she forbore to intro- 
 duce the subject of a change in her 
 intentions to JVIiss Eliza. When he so 
 far recovered as to be able to appear 
 out again, it was evident that he was a 
 ruined man in more senses than one. 
 His mind was no longer under his con- 
 trol; for a few moments he would con- 
 verse with his former briUiancy, but soon 
 these flashes of intellectual strength and 
 naturalness would be succeeded by a 
 childlike simplicity, or even worse, by 
 an almost fearful querulousness. Some- 
 times, for hours he remained in his arm- 
 chair upon the portico, gazing at the 
 far-off hills or into vacuity without ap- 
 parent consciousness if one approached 
 and addressed him. At such periods, 
 Miss EHza led him within the house
 
 GOING TO THE WAB. 85 
 
 and sat by him till he fell asleep upon 
 the lounge. 
 
 Before the close of summer, the sheriff's 
 sale took place, and it appeared that the 
 estate was involved far more than it 
 could meet. The poor man would have 
 been utterly deprived of means of pro- 
 curing a home, had it not been for a 
 few thousands which Miss Eliza had not 
 entrusted to the care of her brother, and 
 which now remained in her own right, 
 beyond the reach of his creditors. Hence- 
 forth they were to occupy a small house 
 in Welfield, without any domestics, save 
 Mrs. Kenneth. 
 
 Early in the autumn, Mary took her 
 departure for a distant academy, where 
 she purposed to remained until she was
 
 86 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 fitted to instruct a common country 
 school. 
 
 Here, amid new faces and new scenes, 
 while yet the orphan's heart was very 
 desolate and sorrowful, the Lord raised 
 up a new and invaluable friend in the 
 person of Mrs. Comfort, the lady with 
 whom she boarded. This lady gave her 
 the advice, the encouragement, and the 
 motherly instruction which she so greatly 
 needed. Her large and true heart never 
 failed Mary's application for assistance. 
 
 Once, only, Mary received a letter from 
 her brother. It was brief and hurriedly 
 written, as he was in circumstances which 
 forbade anything more. He wrote that 
 he was well; had, thus far, been enabled 
 to keep his last resolution, and had no 
 intention of doing less in the future.
 
 GOING TO THE WAR. 87 
 
 They were to engage in a pitched bat- 
 tle on the following morning. If he 
 survived, he should WTite her as soon 
 as possible. If he was among the fallen, 
 he trusted that God would forgive him 
 and receive his spu'it. 
 
 After a long and agonizing suspense of 
 weeks, it appeared that among the killed 
 in that eno^asfement w^as William Wins- 
 low. " He acted very nobly aU that day,'' 
 wrote a comrade to Mary, " and as he 
 made a dashing charge on the advancing 
 foe to save the life of his commanding 
 officer, there is no doubt but that he 
 would have been promoted, if he had 
 survived."
 
 IV. 
 
 |ix tlj^ gistrict StIj00L 
 
 ^OT was a sultry afternoon in early 
 j^k summer, — very sultry it seemed to 
 'W those within a small white school- 
 
 (o 
 
 house, standing on the corner of a worth- 
 less acre of land, which was passed on 
 two sides by a country road. There were 
 no cool, green window-blinds to the hap- 
 less-looking building ; nothing but one 
 great butternut-tree, to protect it from the 
 searching rays of the afternoon sun. But 
 within were curtains of dark chintz, that 
 proved a partial amelioration for the ex- 
 cessive exposure. 
 
 It was now a few minutes before the 
 
 (88)
 
 IN THE DISTRICT SCHOOL. 89 
 
 last recess. The children, generally, were 
 very restless. One or two of the smaller 
 ones had worked themselves out into a 
 sound sleep. Tom Harding and Sam 
 Wilkins, the leaders of mischief, were so 
 harassed with the evil spirit that abode 
 within them, there seemed some danger 
 of their taking on the capability of losing 
 their heads and reproducing new ones, 
 like certain individuals of the worm tribe. 
 Their very eyes dilated with sharpened 
 perception, so that not even a fly flew near 
 without active efforts being put forth for 
 its capture within their soiled palms. 
 
 There was electricity in the air, and the 
 clouds in the north and west were of that 
 black-and-blue tone which constitutes the 
 dark-pm-ple of thunder skies. The sun 
 drew water, one of the children said, 
 
 8*
 
 90 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 " whole buckets full." And as the human 
 mind is supposed to sympathize with the 
 state of the elements, the restless, discursive 
 condition of the children may be reckoned 
 as the natural result of affairs. 
 
 Our friend, Mary, or Miss Winslow as 
 she was now most often addressed, stood 
 at the post as presiding genius of this 
 little community. Her own spirits par- 
 tially harmonized with those of her pupils. 
 Her best scholar — the girl who rarely 
 failed in her recitations — had missed sev- 
 eral times that afternoon, and was now in 
 her seat with her face hidden in her tear- 
 stained handkerchief. 
 
 " Was there ever such a place as this, 
 and such a school ! " exclaimed Mary, in 
 her thought. 
 
 She sighed heavily. Her face was
 
 IN THE DISTRICT SCHOOL. 91 
 
 flushed with excitement, and she wore 
 that nervous, tired look, which is seen 
 upon a person of her sensitive organiza- 
 tion when overtasked. 
 
 " Here I am shut out from the world 
 of intelligence and refinement, with no 
 one to take the least interest in me or my 
 work," she continued, to herself; '-and 
 it must be that God has forgotten me ! " 
 
 A heavy rumbling sound was heard in 
 the distance. 
 
 " That's thunder," whispered one of the 
 restless urchins to his seat-mate. 
 
 " No, don't you hear the wheels ? It's 
 the stage," was the reply. 
 
 The sound increased, and the advanc- 
 ing coach was welcomed by a general, 
 though half-suppressed, sensation among 
 the children.
 
 92 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 " Teacher," said one of the largest gMs, 
 on the back seat, '' the stage has stop- 
 ped, and there's a lady getting out." 
 
 " Be quiet," replied Mary Winslow, yet 
 there was a tone accompanying this in- 
 junction which beti'ayed that even the 
 teacher was not wholly devoid of inter- 
 est. A smart rap was now heard upon 
 the outer door. 
 
 Miss Winslow walked out, closing the 
 inner door behind her. 
 
 " I guess it's her sweetheart's aunt," 
 said Tom Harding. 
 
 " No, 'tis a spirit come to pull your 
 hair," said a pert-looking girl. 
 
 While similar conversation was going 
 on within the school-room, let us follow 
 the teacher to meet the visitor. 
 
 " Why Mrs. Comfort ! " exclaimed Mary. 
 <' If this is n't you ! "
 
 IN THE DISTRICT SCHOOL. 93 
 
 " Well, how does Mary Winslow do ? " 
 asked a quick, cheerful voice. The face 
 was lighted with an irresistible smile, and 
 bubbles of good cheer welled up in the 
 eyes. 
 
 " Oh, I am so glad to see you ! But 
 who would have thought that you would 
 have taken pains to have come here to 
 such a place ! " 
 
 " Why not, child ? I was going to see 
 my married daughter, who lives about a 
 score of miles beyond, and thought I'd 
 stop over one day with you. I wanted 
 to see how you got along." 
 
 " Oh dear ! I have but a poor time, I 
 assure you. I'm ashamed to ask you in- 
 to such a place. And the children are 
 so rough, — that is, most of them." 
 
 " Well, you know we must make
 
 94 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 the rough places smooth, when we find 
 
 them." 
 
 These words were accompanied by 
 
 such a pleasant, congenial, hopeful look, 
 
 Mary smiled despite herself. 
 
 Mrs. Comfort now followed the teacher 
 into the inner room, and took a chair in 
 the desk, while she looked around with 
 a kind of sunny, but silent how-do-you- 
 all-do-here glance, that Sam Wilkins, 
 who scorned to think amiably of anybody 
 or anything but his own jack-knife, 
 whispered, " That's a beat of a woman." 
 " There's where your head is clear," re- 
 plied Sam Harding. 
 
 " Boys, stop communicating there," said 
 Miss Winslow, — " and attend to your les- 
 sons." They took up their books, but 
 their eyes were not long off the face of 
 the visitor.
 
 IN THE DISTRICT SCHOOL. 95 
 
 A few moments later, and recess was 
 announced. 
 
 " How nicely they all go out," said 
 Mrs. Comfort, "and some of them have 
 the look my father used to tell about, — 
 as though they'd set a barn a-fire one 
 of these days, for being so smart." A 
 laugh escaped, followed by a rippling 
 tone of delight, that nobody, except a per- 
 son looking at the remains of his last 
 hope, could resist. 
 
 Inquiries were now quickly made by 
 Miss Winslow respecting her old friends 
 of the academy. She had formerly board- 
 ed with Mrs. Comfort, who was a widow, 
 and had sometimes accommodated a few 
 students with a home. 
 
 " Those, indeed, were happy hours," 
 commented Mary, with a deep-drawn sigh.
 
 96 THE RED BHIDGE. 
 
 " Yes ; and are not these, also ? " 
 " No, indeed ! How can I take one mo- 
 ment's peace here in this unsightly room, 
 surrounded by these children, the majority 
 of whom are more like so many cubs, 
 than human beings ! Then, to crown al!, 
 they gave me a boarding-place so far 
 away, I am obliged to stay here during 
 the intermissions at noon. I bring a book 
 every day with my dinner, and when it 
 is pleasant I go out to the grove, over 
 yonder there, and I read. But when it is 
 unpleasant weather, never was there such 
 another place as is this. Their yells and 
 motions are almost terrific." 
 
 " Let's see, dear," said Mrs. Comfort, 
 "if something more inviting can't be got 
 out of this hard shell. We'll break it to 
 get the juice, and not keep looking at it,
 
 IN THE DISTRICT SCHOOL. 97 
 
 whole and hard and rough-rinded." One 
 of her own irresistible laughs now escaped, 
 by way of parenthesis. " In the first place, 
 1 don't believe in your reading, of noons, 
 when you've been using your brain all the 
 hours before, and have got to do the same 
 again right away." 
 
 " But, really, Mrs. Comfort, what would 
 you have me do ? — sit listless, and, with 
 folded hands, think over the pleasant scenes 
 of days gone by, as I inevitably must, had 
 I not something like a book to take up my 
 mind ? " 
 
 " Now, if I were you, it seems to me, I 
 should get up something that these noisy 
 boys and girls could help about. I would 
 take them over to those woods, and get 
 some evergreens, and make wreaths to 
 hang around these walls, — kill two birds
 
 98 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 with one stone, you know. Come to 
 think, it would be three or four birds before 
 you got through. You would add to the 
 beauty of these walls " (another laugh), 
 " keep the children out of mischief, and get 
 health for yourself Then they could find 
 nice mosses and make some baskets. 
 You know you used to like to do such 
 things." 
 
 " I don't believe they would care to," 
 said Miss Winslow. 
 
 " Yes, I think they would. Children, 
 even the rudest, are always interested in 
 anything that puts the mechanical to na- 
 ture. Going out to gather these things 
 would give vent to their restless spirits. It 
 would quicken your own vital energies, so 
 that you would soon see '• sermons in stones, 
 books in the running brooks, and good in 
 everything,' — even this school-house."
 
 IN THE DISTRICT SCHOOL. 99 
 
 Miss Winslow now remembered a beau- 
 tiful spot in the edge of the woods back of 
 the school-house, whither she had gone 
 one day, and likened it in her heart to a 
 fairy bower, it was so affluent with vines, 
 mosses, pensile wild flowers, and nice old 
 stones just fitted for seats. 
 
 " Perhaps I should have gone out more 
 since I began the school ; for some days I 
 have stayed in here from nine o'clock in 
 the morning till half-past four in the after- 
 noon," she said. 
 
 " No wonder the children looked so 
 sti-ange to you. I should have thought you 
 would not have known yourself when it 
 came night. But after your supper, I sup- 
 pose, you took the air ? " 
 
 " No ; I thought my walk home quite 
 sufficient. I usually went to my chamber.
 
 100 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 and read in some book when I had no 
 sewing to do or letters to write. Some- 
 times I sat by the window, and thought 
 till the tears would come despite myself." 
 
 " Now, Mary Winslow," said Mrs. Com- 
 fort, " there's no use in taking life this way. 
 You may just as well look at the bright side 
 as the dark one. I knew your father when 
 he was a young man, and he used to say 
 he would not give one cent for a character 
 which had no obstacles to overcome. I 
 expect this summer's work is going to do 
 more for you than the brightest, and what 
 you called happiest, seasons of your life." 
 
 It was now time to ring the bell for the 
 scholars to return from recess. Mary 
 smiled at the sunny face of her frieiid, and 
 
 resumed her duties at a lighter pace. But, 
 
 * 
 
 as she went to the window to ring the bell,
 
 IN THE DISTRICT SCHOOL. 101 
 
 she noticed that the clouds had gathered 
 deeper blackness in the west, and the 
 shower was soon to be overhead. 
 
 " It is going to rain right away," she 
 said to her visitor, " and it looks now as 
 though the shower would be heavy." 
 
 *' We need rain very much ; it is so dry. 
 I hope we shall have a good smart shower. 
 I always enjoy it right well," returned Mrs. 
 Comfort. 
 
 " But not the thunder and lightning ? " 
 
 " Certainly ; why not ? There is a gran- 
 deur about these demonstrations of nature, 
 as illustrations of God's power, which ex- 
 cels every other spectacle but that of — 
 teaching school with a happy, contented 
 spirit." And the old pleasant ripple of the 
 heart was heard again. To §ay that Mrs. 
 Comfort laughed was the poorest possible 
 
 9*
 
 102 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 way of representing hei' sunny outgush of 
 feeling, there being so many different lan- 
 guages to that expression. The mere folly, 
 the dry sarcasm, the vacant sense of titilla- 
 tion, the contagious imitation were not in 
 the spirit of her laugh. In short, this wo- 
 man was like no other in this respect. 
 
 One recitation after another now came 
 on, and, ovv^ing to the weather or some- 
 thmg else, every one failed of meeting the 
 teacher's expectations. Her mouth fell 
 down at the corners, and her lugubrious 
 face was accompanied by such an anxious 
 tone, Mrs. Comfort thought to herself that 
 John Rogers' widow, with the nine small 
 children, could not have felt much worse. 
 
 The younger children, on the front seats, 
 having accomplished their last lessons in 
 reading and spelling, began to annoy each
 
 IN THE DISTRICT SCHOOL. 103 
 
 other, and disturb the general work not a 
 a little. Miss Winslow had no heart to 
 bestow summary punishment before her 
 visitor, and she contented herself with 
 sprinkling a few light rebukes here and 
 there, like pepper-corns in a soup. 
 
 At length the last lesson was heard, the 
 hand of the clock was on the point of four, 
 and she declared the school dismissed. It 
 had rained very delightfully for the last 
 hour, but now the drops ceased, and the 
 sun was struggling from behind the clouds. 
 
 " Oh, I am so glad ! " exclaimed Mary ; 
 " the last one is gone ! another day is told 
 off from this dreary round ! " 
 
 " My dear child," said Mrs. Comfort, as 
 she prepared to walk home with Mary, 
 " how much you lose by not enjoying your- 
 self!"
 
 104 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 " How can I, when there is so little to 
 enjoy ? " 
 
 " You know I talk with you as though 
 you were my own daughter, and so I must 
 tell you a few things, — shall I ? " 
 
 " Certainly, my dear friend ; what can I 
 not bear from you ? " 
 
 " In the first place, you must take more 
 interest in your scholars. You must love 
 them more; no matter how uncouth, un- 
 lovely they are, — remember that Christ, 
 God's well-beloved Son, died for every one, 
 and that they are all stamped with that aw- 
 fully significant seal, — immortality. They 
 are now forming characters for the endless 
 ages. You are dowered with that high 
 commission from heaven to help mould 
 and fashion these minds. Is not the idea 
 an important one ? "
 
 IN THE DISTRICT SCHOOL. 105 
 
 Mrs. Comfort lifted her eyes towards 
 heaven in silent prayer, as was her custom 
 w^hen she would seek the blessing of Di- 
 vine Power upon her words. 
 
 Miss Win slow was silent. The lady 
 continued, — 
 
 " Love is the great counter-current for all 
 the electricity of evil. When your pupils 
 recite, you must look at them with a kind 
 of a loving interest, as though you expected 
 they were going to say the right thing with 
 a little of your encouragement. If you 
 look at them doubtfully or with an uncon- 
 genial condemnation, they \Yiil easily keep 
 on the plane where you put them, which is 
 disHke both to thek tasks and to yourself." 
 
 " But those younger children, — what 
 kind of electricity will hit them success- 
 fuUy?"
 
 106 THE KED BRIDGE. 
 
 " Let them have something to do when 
 they have finished their little tasks. Get 
 their parents to procure them some slates 
 and pencils, and set them to writing and 
 drawing. To require them to keep still is 
 little short of cruelty." 
 
 " Perhaps it is ; but I had not thought 
 of it in this way before," Mary returned. 
 
 " You must seek to be cheerful," .con- 
 tinued Mrs. Comfort, " and then everything 
 will look differently to you. We can make 
 life whatever we wiU. If you look so un- 
 reconciled, you will hinder your own suc- 
 cess in life." 
 
 " Do I look unreconciled ? I did not 
 know it. I don't think I am in the habit 
 of looking so." 
 
 " I am not sure of that, though you did 
 not use to formerly, I well remember. But
 
 m THE DISTRICT SCHOOL. 107 
 
 I heard a gentleman speak of you in the 
 coach this afternoon as we were riding from 
 the city, in such a way as to induce me, in 
 addition to my own 'observation, to form 
 this opinion." 
 
 " A gentleman speak of me ? "Who was 
 it ? And what did he say ? " 
 
 Miss Winslow's curiosity was fairly 
 aroused. 
 
 " I could not have told you, except to 
 prove the truth of what I have said, — and 
 all for your good, my dear child." 
 
 " Certainly ; but do tell me." 
 
 " There were five of us passengers, when 
 
 we left N . Three of these stopped at 
 
 the centre of this town. They seemed ac- 
 quainted and commenced immediately to 
 converse together. As I had nothing better 
 to do, I listened. One of them, it appeared,
 
 108 THE BED BRIDGE. 
 
 was a member of the School Committee, 
 and he was questioned respecting the 
 schools. Among the new teachers who 
 had recently come into town, your name 
 was mentioned. This young man said 
 that Miss Winslow might make a very 
 good teacher were it not for one thing." 
 
 " What was that? " asked Mary, quickly, " 
 as Mi's. Comfort hesitated. 
 
 " The queer part of it was, at this very 
 moment when my heart was on tiptoe to 
 hear the criticism, the driver called out to 
 one of the passengers to know if she would 
 stop at the house where we then were. 
 This put a period to the conversation. The 
 passenger stepped out, and the second one 
 of this party which had been conversing 
 said he guessed he would not ride any fur- 
 ther, as he had to stop at a store but a little 
 further ahead. So this broke it all up."
 
 IN THE DISTRICT SCHOOL. 109 
 
 But I was not to be baffled in this way, 
 for I wanted to know what that one thing 
 was, that I might help you out of it if I 
 could. I knew it would not do to tell him 
 that I was acquainted with you, so I mere- 
 ly said, — 
 
 " A teacher's life is a difficult one, sir; 
 and excuse me if I say it is easier for the 
 committee-men to see faults than to rectify 
 them so as to be wholly free themselves, 
 when they chance to teach." 
 
 " Oh, yes, madam," he replied ; " the lady 
 teacher to whom I just alluded is evidently 
 well qualified. In fact, I should say she is 
 a superior girl." 
 
 " But what then is the matter ? I have 
 several friends who teach school, and I am 
 interested to know for their sakes, — for the 
 sake of one young friend in particular." 
 
 10
 
 110 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 " Do you reside in this vicinity ? " he now 
 asked. 
 
 " No ; my home is in another county, — 
 quite a distance from here. I was never 
 through this country before," I said. 
 
 " Well, then, madam, if my opinion is 
 worth anything, it is this; no one should 
 so disrelish his or her employment, as not to 
 work with a determination to get the most 
 happiness out of it possible. In order to 
 that, they must make up their mind it 
 is just the place God designs them then 
 and there to fill. It is a great thing for a 
 teacher, or any leader of other minds, to be 
 cheerful. In fact, it is more than half the 
 conquest." 
 
 " But does not this Miss Winslow seem 
 cheerful in her school ? " I asked, as uncon- 
 cernedly as I could.
 
 IN THE DISTRICT SCHOOL. Ill 
 
 " She is not cross, but ill at ease," he 
 said. 
 
 " Perhaps she is bashful, especially in 
 your presence," I continued. 
 
 " I think not ; she is too proud for that. 
 A fine girl, but out of her element." 
 
 He bowed and descended from the coach, 
 which had stopped before a building, on 
 which I read, " Henry Alton, Counsellor at 
 Law." 
 
 " Was that Esquire Alton ? " exclaimed 
 Mary, while a warm blush overspread her 
 face and her eyes suffused with tears. 
 
 " I did not intend to wound you, my 
 dear ; but I thought it might be a bene- 
 fit to you to know what a committee- 
 man said." 
 
 " I would not have chosen to have 
 made such an impression on him," said
 
 112 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 Mary, trying hard to keep down her 
 emotion. 
 
 " Is he married ? " asked Mrs. Comfort. 
 
 " No ; but I don't care anything about 
 that." 
 
 " Of course not," said Mrs. Comfort, 
 drily. 
 
 " He is one of the most influential 
 men in town, and perhaps the best edu- 
 cated." 
 
 " And a real gentleman," added Mrs. 
 Comfort, " as I saw by the way he helped 
 to make me comfortable in the coach." 
 
 " Yes," said Mary, " he was very con- 
 siderate when he came into my school 
 the other day, though, it seems, he had 
 a poor opinion of me, all the while." 
 
 " Oh, no ; it is only for the good of 
 teachers that he said all that," said Mrs. 
 Comfort, smiling.
 
 IN THE DISTRICT SCHOOL. 113 
 
 They had now reached Mary's board- 
 ing-place, — a fortunate occurrence, as it 
 seemed that Mary could not much longer 
 have preserved her self-control. 
 
 Mrs. Comfort took everything as a 
 matter of course which she found at the 
 common-looking farm-house ; her cheery 
 way won all hearts at once. Even 
 Mary wondered that she could ever 
 have thought the place so uncomfort- 
 able. Mrs. Comfort spent the evening 
 in telling all the pleasant news of which 
 she could think to her young Mend, be- 
 sides dropping, here and there, a prac- 
 tical hint of much value. Mary awoke 
 in the morning to find her Mend up 
 betimes, already dressed, and reading from 
 the pocket-Bible she generally carried in 
 her capacious pocket. And when, after- 
 
 10*
 
 114 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 wards, she poured out of the abundance 
 of her soul her prayer to God, Mary 
 said to herself, " This is the secret of 
 her content ; for * He giveth the oil of 
 joy for mourning, the garment of praise 
 for the spirit of heaviness.' " 
 
 She resolved to be more fervent in 
 prayer, in future, that her spirit might 
 be sustained, and delivered from its 
 bondage of unrest. 
 
 " Now, Mary," said Mrs. Comfort, when 
 she was about to leave her, to resume 
 her journey, that morning, " promise me 
 that you will try, hereafter, to look on 
 the best side of all things, and to love 
 everybody." 
 
 " I will make the effort," Teturned Mary ; 
 "that is, I will try to like all but the 
 legal committee-man."
 
 IN THE DISTRICT SCHOOL. 115 
 
 " Oh, dear," said Mrs. Comfort, " you 
 mean just the contrary ; I have seen girls 
 before." 
 
 But, after the departure of her friend, 
 Mary thought much of what had been 
 said to her. This proved one of the 
 way-marks of her life. She v^as wise 
 to resolve on a change. Perhaps this 
 good resolution resulted not a little from 
 Mrs. Comfort's prayers for her friend, for 
 she ceased not to remember her before 
 God, when she had passed on to new 
 scenes and new faces. 
 
 About three weeks later, Mrs. Comfort 
 received the following letter from Mary 
 Winslow ; — 
 
 " Dear Mrs. Comfort : — 
 
 " If you had dropped in upon me in
 
 116 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 the old school-house a few days after you 
 left, you would have found a very different 
 place from what it was the day you were 
 with us. First, I had it swept and gar- 
 nished, giving the pupils several familiar 
 exhortations upon the importance of a 
 fine appearance of our house, and sum- 
 ming up with an invitation to accompany 
 me, at noon, in search for something rare 
 and beautiful for its adorning. They 
 looked upon me in astonishment, seem- 
 ing hardly to credit their own ears. I 
 suppose I had, hitherto, seemed very in- 
 different to them, out of school, — and, 
 possibly, too much so when in my usual 
 round of duties. Every child of them 
 was on the alert to help forward the en- 
 terprise, and those who had given me 
 most trouble in school, now proved them- 
 selves the most useful.
 
 IN THE DISTRICT SCHOOL. 117 
 
 " We found beautiful evergreens which 
 ran along the ground, for rods and rods. 
 Then there were bitter-sweet and life-ever- 
 lasting, which we made into wreaths that 
 will keep for months. When I found how 
 pretty these were, I devised the getting-up 
 of a motto, which we could not complete 
 for several noons. At last, we had it hung 
 up over my desk, du*ectly opposite the 
 door, — ' Godliness with Contentment is 
 great gain.' I think of the spirit of these 
 beautiful words many times every day, 
 and it does me good. Some of the older 
 girls who know how to make moss-baskets, 
 have made several for me. One of these I 
 keep on the desk. They fill it with fresh 
 flowers every morning. 
 
 " In addition to these natural graces, ] 
 have introduced quite a number of new and
 
 118 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 interesting exercises, in which they engage 
 just before recess or the close of school. 
 These are geographical, mathematical, and 
 orthographical. We have some very amus- 
 ing times, I assure you. 
 
 " The old school-house was looking just 
 its freshest and best, when who should ap- 
 pear, to-day, but Esquire Alton, for an offi- 
 cial visit of inspection. I was secretly glad 
 to see that notwithstanding his eyes have 
 rested upon the grand, old scenes of foreign 
 travel, he gave a slight start of satisfaction, 
 as he first took in our homely, unpretending 
 little adornings. He sat down quite with 
 the air of the man who feels he has got 
 into an endurable place. And what was 
 yet more gi'atifying, my pupils profited by 
 some of my recent lessons on behavior, so 
 that they contributed not a little to the good
 
 IN THE DISTRICT SCHOOL. 119 
 
 appearance. As I had ' watched ' the 
 night before (of which I will tell you as 
 soon as I come to it), I made but a very 
 poor spectacle myself. I was stupid and 
 anything but that cheerful angel which he 
 pictured to you, as his beau-ideal of a 
 school-teacher. I felt his keen eyes resting 
 upon me occasionally, and colored tiU my 
 face must have glowed like a red holly- 
 hock. The more I tried to be indifferent 
 and independent, the less I succeeded, and 
 I was ready to escape with vexation 
 through the hole for the funnel in the ceil- 
 ing, when he announced that he would 
 like to address the school for a few mo- 
 ments before his departure. 
 
 " He said several complimentary things, I 
 believe, about the school and its teacher; 
 but I did not care much about them after
 
 120 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 what I knew he thought of me ; and I think 
 he was a little surprised that I showed no 
 more consciousness of such a high opinion 
 from a rare individual lilvC himself. I sup- 
 pose you would chide me for these words, 
 if you were here. 
 
 " Last night, Sam Willdns' mother rode 
 over to ask me to go and see her sick boy. 
 Sam has been very sick for a number of 
 days, and as he had been doing well recent- 
 ly, I missed him very much. I hesitated to 
 go. She had come in an old, rickety 
 chaise, with a strange-looking horse, and 
 she was vastly queer herself ; but I remem- 
 bered what you told me about making the 
 best of all things and loving everybody, so 
 I went. When I got there, the boy was 
 evidently glad, but he said- little. I read a 
 chapter in the Bible and talked with him
 
 IN THE DISTRICT SCHOOL. 121 
 
 about being prepared for heaven. He lis- 
 tened, and finally asked me what he should 
 do to be good and fit to go to heaven. I 
 told him as best I could, though I wished, 
 Mrs. Comfort, you had been in my place by 
 the side of that sick-bed. 
 
 " After a while I spoke to Mrs. Wilkins 
 about going back ; but she said she could not 
 carry me till morning, and I must stay all 
 night. I believe I should have felt very un- 
 reconciled to this arrangement, as it was the 
 poorest house I was ever in, if I had not re- 
 membered your parting words. I conclud- 
 ed I could sit up with the poor boy part 
 of the night, that his mother might get 
 some rest. She was very grateful, for she 
 had not found opportunity to sleep only in 
 her chair for some time. The old house- 
 clock ticked heavily. The boy's breathing 
 11
 
 122 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 was loud and troubled ; else all was silent. 
 I should have been frightened, all unused 
 as I am to such scenes, had I not recalled 
 that my dear heavenly Father had prom- 
 ised to shield all those who trust in him. 
 It was well I thought of this, for about the 
 time the clock struck twelve, I heard the 
 sound of steps, as of some one walking 
 down the garret-stairs and then approach- 
 ing the room where I was. The door was 
 ajar, and the light which had been kept in 
 the kitchen, burned just sufficiently for me 
 to faintly discern objects. I confess that I 
 felt a desire to be elsewhere at that minute. 
 Slowly advanced the uncertain sounds, till 
 the door was opened wide, discovering a 
 figure wrapped in a large, white covering 
 like a sheet. I saw the strange, pale face 
 of a man, with wild eyes fastened on mine.
 
 IN THE DISTRICT SCHOOL. 123 
 
 My first impulse was to escape ; but I felt 
 that would avail nothing, for there was no 
 other door save the one in which this person 
 stood. 
 
 " ' Young woman,' spoke a voice, slow 
 and hollow, * the child will die. He is 
 even now struck with the fatal arrow.' 
 
 " I was uncertain what to do in my 
 great fright, when I heard the voice of Mrs. 
 Wilkins from the bedroom across the 
 kitchen : ' John I what do you come 
 down this time of night for ? Go back to 
 bed, will you ? ' 
 
 " ' No, I have come to see my child.' He 
 emphasized the word ^ my ' as if his right 
 would be questioned. Mrs. Wilkins had 
 now reached the room, also. I was glad 
 for this, I cannot describe to you how 
 greatly.
 
 124 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 " He went to the bed, looked at the 
 sleeping boy for a tune, silently, then he 
 covered his eyes with his hands and cried 
 bitterly. 
 
 " ' The boy was the only one who cared 
 for the poor drunkard,' he said, turning 
 towards me. 
 
 " ' Don't trouble her with your talk,' 
 said ]Mrs. Wilkins, evidently much morti- 
 fied to have me make this encounter with 
 her husband. Sam now turned in the bed, 
 breathed softly, and opened his eyes. He 
 saw his father, his mother, and myself, as 
 one who has just awoke to a pleasant but 
 strange discovery. ' I have had such a 
 great dream,' he said, in a voice very un- 
 like his own I had so often heard at school. 
 I can't tell it all, though I never shall forget 
 if. ' I thought I was in a wide and open
 
 IN THE DISTRICT SCHOOL. 125 
 
 place like the Smith-pasture. It was all so 
 green, and yet so bright as though the sun 
 shone, softly like, while it rained great 
 drops of crystals and gold, and purple stars. 
 I laid down right beside the w^ater, which 
 w^ent along through the place like a clear 
 brook, and I looked down into the water, 
 and I saw, just as plain as day, myself with 
 two beautiful things like wings. I was so 
 glad in my sleep, I went right to saying, 
 " Now I lay me " just as I do before I go 
 to sleep. Pretty soon I saw coming tow- 
 ards my shadow there in the water, a man 
 I took to be you, father, and I said, ' He is 
 clothed and in his right mind,' which was 
 what Miss Winslow read to me out of 
 the Bible, before I dropped off to sleep. I 
 laughed right out, and I clapped my hands 
 for joy. " It will surely be," somebody seem-
 
 126 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 ed to say to me, " but pray." ' Now, father, 
 continued the boy, ' I feel I am going to 
 die before long. I asked God to forgive 
 my sins to-night, when Miss Winslow had 
 done talking to me, and he did forgive me, 
 I know, because I feel so calm-like and 
 so happy. I want you to kneel down 
 here, right by my bed, while I pray for 
 you and mother. Oh, yes, ^^pray " is the 
 sweet w^ord I heard so clear in my drearii. 
 Was ever word like that, as it sounded 
 then to me ! ' 
 
 " We were all much moved. The poor 
 man sobbed like a child, but he stirred not. 
 Mrs. Wilkins was almost prone on the 
 mat at the foot of the bed, groaning aloud. 
 ' Father, you remember when I saved you 
 from drowning down in the meadow, 
 that you promised to do some great thing
 
 IX THE DISTRICT SCHOOL. 127 
 
 for me some day. I claim that now. I 
 ask you to kneel down and call upon God 
 for mercy,' continued the boy. Still he 
 moved not. " ' I have not long to ask 
 anything of you,' — 
 
 " ' I will, Sam, — yes, I will. Do you 
 hear ? I will kneel,' now spoke the father, 
 falling helplessly beside the bed, while 
 Samuel laid his hand upon that of his 
 father. 
 
 " ' O thou dear Father in heaven, dear 
 Jesus, who died to save sinners, be so kind 
 as to come here now, and cause my poor 
 father to see how bad it is to drink and 
 have a wrong mind to do things that al- 
 most break my mother's heart. Make him 
 like the father I saw in my sleep, all fair 
 and good and clean. Let him be so 
 changed that, when he dies, he will come
 
 128 THE RED EKIDGE. 
 
 where I expect to be. For I shall soon 
 go to that beautiful land where the sun 
 shines through the showers of purple light, 
 and the waters run on and on, between 
 the softest banks of gi-een and many- 
 colored wreaths, and such flowers ! Oh, I 
 am glad I am going there so soon ! ' 
 
 " His voice wandered into inarticulate, 
 broken murmurs. 
 
 " Mrs. Comfort, never can I forget that 
 hour ! I would write you more about it ; 
 but my watch warns me that it is time I 
 prepared to go to school. 
 
 " Evening. 
 
 a My good, far-off friend, I cannot fold 
 up this already long letter without tell- 
 ing you that I have lived to number one 
 pupil in heaven. I heard the bell toll 
 this morning just as I got to the school-
 
 IN THE DISTRICT SCHOOL. 129 
 
 house. We all stopped to count the age. 
 It struck fourteen times. We knew, then, 
 who it was. Every voice was subdued, 
 and a sad, solemn look was on all the 
 young faces. Soon after, a man rode 
 along, who had just come from the Wil- 
 kins' house, and he said that Sam died 
 early that morning. It was just two 
 mornings from the one I left Mm, when he 
 had said, ' Good-by, teacher. I thank you 
 for all your kind, good words ; but please 
 pray for my poor father.' 
 
 " I am very grateful to you, Mrs. Com 
 fort, that you showed me the more excel- 
 lent way, in which, I humbly trust, I am 
 now walking to my peace and profit. 
 " Your affectionate 
 
 " Mary Winslow."
 
 130 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 Mrs. Comfort's reply : — 
 
 " Dear Mary,— 
 
 As I never taught school myself, you 
 must not expect me to write letters like a 
 practised hand. I don't believe m apolo- 
 gies, though, so I will write what I have 
 to write without navigating around Robin 
 Hood's barn, as my father used to say. 
 
 " You did very well with your poor sick 
 and dying boy, but acted foolishly with 
 the young committee-man. But, if he is 
 as wise as every man ought to be, he 
 will understand that a young girl's ways, 
 like folks' dreams, go by contraries. At 
 least, they used to when I was young ; but 
 now-a-days, around where I am at the 
 academy, girls are so forward that they 
 seem to think the more they act right out
 
 IN THE DISTRICT SCHOOL. 131 
 
 before the young gentlemen, the smarter 
 they are. You didn't use to be so here-, I 
 well remember ; and that's one reason why 
 I took such an interest in you, from that 
 time to this. There were some others, too, 
 of your sort ; but I fear they are getting 
 precious fewer and fewer every year. 
 
 " I am afraid you have got too much of 
 what my father used to call myhighgilius 
 (strange for pride) to get along just right 
 in life. Now, Mary, you must take these 
 plain words from your old and true friend, 
 as you ever have my advice to you. I re- 
 member the day that you first came to 
 live under my roof, and what I thought of 
 you then. ' She is just about right, with 
 a few exceptions,' I said to my daughter. 
 You had seen sorrow, I knew from your 
 general appearance ; but, as you were
 
 132 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 young, this in time would pass away. 
 But not so soon would pass away from 
 your manner, a certain incomeatible hedge- 
 row, as my father used to call it, which 
 showed that, somewhere behind that, you 
 had a pretty good share of independence. 
 And this, in part, serves you well. You 
 were much beloved here by those who 
 knew you, except those who knew just 
 enough to envy your gifts. Never mind 
 them, however, for such people must ap- 
 pear at every turn of this world ; and be 
 consoled with the thought that ' envy 
 never runs down hill.' If you could get 
 along without any such times, you mighi 
 know you weren't of much account, any- 
 way. 
 
 " In order to be happy under all circum- 
 stances, we must be as straightforward as
 
 IN THE DISTRICT SCHOOL. 133 
 
 posfeible. I know what I want to say, but 
 I cannot express it to you as I would. 
 That is, when the young lawyer came in 
 there to see you and the school, you should 
 have silently lifted your heart to heaven for 
 wisdom, and then gone right on as calm 
 as a gentle brook through the meadow. 
 ' Flurry and fustigation,' my father used to 
 say, ' come right from the spirit of evil ; but 
 an even try-to-do-your-duty sort of way, 
 is from the Lord.' Throw away your own 
 will, and you can see clear that you are 
 helped by the Mighty One, and helped, too, 
 in a way that needs no repair nor going 
 over. 
 
 " You do well to pray much, and pray 
 also for others. The Lord turned Job's 
 captivity when he prayed for his friends. 
 Seek to say an encouraging word, as often 
 
 12
 
 134 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 as you can, to that poor man who wishes 
 now to lead a new and better life. It will 
 cost you some effort, I know; but to do 
 good, and to communicate, forget not; for 
 with such sacrifices^ God is well pleased. 
 
 " Before I close, you must suffer a word 
 of caution from Hannah Comfort. It is 
 this : don't try to do too much with your 
 scholars all at once. If you do, they will 
 get disgusted, and return to some of their 
 old habits of rebelhon. You know how 
 the ants build their heap, — little by little, 
 — and they are paragons of wisdom. We 
 are in danger of going to extremes in 
 everything. 
 
 " Young plants require a gentle water- 
 ing once or twice a day; they cannot stand 
 a deluge. ' A word to the wise,' etc.
 
 m THE DISTRICT SCHOOL. 135 
 
 " In great haste, as I have forty-eleven 
 things to do to-day, 
 
 " Yours truly, 
 
 " H. Comfort."
 
 V. 
 
 (^f HE day came for the funeral over the 
 ^^ earthly remains of Samuel Wilkins. 
 ^ It was agreed that the school-house 
 should be closed that afternoon, and the 
 teacher, with all the pupils, should attend 
 together as mourners. 
 
 At the first thought of this. Miss Wins- 
 low refused in her heart. From a child 
 she had shrank from attending these sol- 
 emn rites, having cherished nervous and 
 false notions of the dead ; but now to go 
 there before all the neighbors, in her of- 
 ficial capacity, on such an uncongenial 
 occasion, was more than she well knew 
 
 (136)
 
 IMPRESSIONS BY THE WAY. 137 
 
 how to do. " If Mrs. Comfort were only 
 here in my place ! " she reflected. 
 
 But no friend was near to bear her 
 burden. She was now the head of a 
 school in a large district, and, as such, new 
 responsibilities stood ever before her to 
 hedge up her pathway. 
 
 " If I go to the funeral, what good will 
 it do ? Besides, it wiU greatly harm myself, 
 for I shall see the livid form for days to 
 come," she continued to revolve in her 
 mind. In her vexation of spirit, she fell 
 upon her knees in prayer, and then after- 
 wards opened the Bible for a divine les- 
 son to her soul. She read : " For the 
 administration of this service not only 
 supplieth the want of the saints, but is 
 abundant, also, by many thanksgivings 
 unto God. While, by the experiment of 
 
 12*
 
 138 THE RED BEIDGE. 
 
 this ministration, they glorify God for 
 your professed subjection unto the gospel 
 of Christ, and for your liberal distribution 
 unto them, and unto all men." 2 Cor. 
 9 : 12, 13. 
 
 It was then applied to her soul, that, 
 if she performed this service, she not only 
 did what was acceptable to God, as a 
 Christian, but gave cause for much hap- 
 piness in her own soul. Many thanks- 
 givings would result for this subjection 
 unto her duty to others and to herself. 
 
 " God is able to carry me peacefully 
 over all thorny or hilly paths," she con- 
 cluded ; and, dismissing her fears, she went 
 about her duties with a comparatively 
 cheerful spirit. 
 
 To one differently reared, this indeed 
 would have been no cross ; but Mary
 
 IMPRESSIONS BY THE WAY. 139 
 
 Winslow was the child of delicate and 
 peculiar nurture ; still, without the expe- 
 rience of years and varied observation ; 
 and, withal, endowed with that exqui- 
 sitely imaginative temperament, which, if 
 not properly trained, becomes a fruitful 
 source of misery. For her life, in its 
 most ordinary phases, had four-fold more 
 meaning and index than for many others. 
 She enjoyed, she suffered, she hoped, she 
 feared, with an intensity of which another, 
 differently constituted, would have never 
 dreamed. 
 
 On that still summer afternoon, accom- 
 panied by a score or more of her pupils, 
 she neared the old brown house, just be- 
 hind the grove of beeches, with a feeling 
 of awe too deep for words. 
 
 " There's his dinner-basket hanging on
 
 140 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 the old cherry-tree," said Tom Harding, 
 with a tone a little more subdued than 
 usual. " I guess the last thing he ever 
 did, out-doors, was to try after the 
 cherries." 
 
 • " Yes," said one of the girls, " his 
 mother said his head ached so that he 
 had to hurry down off the tree to keep 
 from falling, that afternoon he was taken 
 sick." 
 
 " It 's dreadful to think of," said an- 
 other. 
 
 " I don't think it is," replied a thought- 
 ful girl ; " he's gone now where he '11 get 
 things better than cherries, without climb- 
 ing trees after them." 
 
 " The best of all is, he wont have to 
 study any more," said Tom Harding ; " I 
 wish I knew, though, just what he's do- 
 ing this minute."
 
 IMPRESSIONS BY THE WAY. 141 
 
 " Singing, of course, if he's gone up to 
 heaven," said a little girl. 
 
 " That would be hard work for me, for 
 I never could steer straight through Old 
 Hundred," said Tom. 
 
 " Why, do you think such a boy as 
 you are would go to heaven ! " exclaimed 
 another. 
 
 " Why not ? " said Tom, more soberly. 
 
 " You swear, and you tell lies, and " — 
 
 " Hush ! " said Miss Winslow, in a low 
 voice, " we are getting so near v\^e shall 
 be heard by the people around the house." 
 
 " Depend upon it," whispered the girl 
 to Tom, " if you die, unless you become 
 a different boy, you'll have no chance to 
 sing or do anything else that good spirits 
 like." 
 
 " You had better turn your eyes to
 
 142 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 home," replied the boy, much excited ; 
 " you look in your books when you are 
 reciting, if Miss Winslow does not stand 
 where she can see you; and what is 
 that but cheating?" 
 
 The girl now hung her head, and was 
 glad to find that they were too near the 
 entrance to allow her opportunity to 
 reply. 
 
 But when the officiating clergyman af- 
 terward said that we must each die for 
 himself, be judged alone for himself, as 
 though there were not another individual 
 soul in the universe, these children thought 
 of the words they had lately exchanged, 
 and became sorrowful. 
 
 The house was crowded to overflowing 
 with people ; for in such countiy places, a 
 funeral, even of a child, is an event which
 
 IMPRESSIONS BY THE WAT. 143 
 
 is observed with rare attention by the 
 neighboring families for miles around. A 
 clergymali has then an opportunity to pro- 
 claim the most practical solemn truths, 
 sometimes to hearts which, else, he has 
 no opportunity to reach. Many people 
 will listen attentively on these occasions, 
 when no consideration would induce them 
 to enter the house of divine worship. 
 Woe to him who shall, then, for the sake 
 of securing local popularity, cry. Peace, 
 peace, when there are no scriptural grounds 
 for it. Let the chosen preacher of right- 
 eousness, also beware of proclaiming that 
 personal judgment, w^hich belongs to Him 
 who only can rightly read the heart and 
 life. 
 
 Miss Winslow and her pupils occupied 
 a vine-sheltered arbor, which adjoined the
 
 144 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 front-room of the house. There, rustic- 
 seats had been prepared for them, which 
 were much more comfortable than those 
 in the crowded rooms. On one of these, 
 near the open but half-curtained window, 
 Mss Winslow was sitting, unconscious of 
 her proximity to others, when the low 
 sound of voices in conversation unavoid- 
 ably arrested her attention. 
 
 " I understand your son died in great 
 peace and triumph, which must be an un- 
 speakable consolation." 
 
 Miss Winslow started at the sound of 
 that voice. 
 
 " Oh, yes, sir, that it is," replied the 
 mother, yielding to a gush of grief. 
 
 " Our excellent minister heard of his 
 sickness, the day before he died, and was 
 about to come over here, but his horse
 
 IMPRESSIONS BY THE WAY. 145 
 
 was lame and the arrangement he made to 
 come, fell through for that day. The next 
 morning it was too late. I thought I 
 would bring him here myself, to-day." 
 
 " It is very kind in you, Esquire Alton. 
 But I have found friends in the midst of 
 this great trouble, that God alone could 
 have raised up for me." 
 
 " You have good-hearted neighbors." 
 
 " Yes ; but Miss Winslow, our school- 
 teacher has been as an angel of heaven to 
 us all, and especially to my poor boy. 
 
 « Indeed ! how is that ? " 
 
 " Why, she told him what it was to re- 
 pent of sin and get ready to die. She 
 spoke softly to him, — so that he heard 
 her, in a good way, and thought over what 
 she said. She came here when he wanted 
 to see her, and she watched with him, one 
 
 13
 
 146 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 of his last nights. He thought much of 
 her, and one of the last things he said was 
 *tell Miss Winslow, I thank her for all 
 that she has taught me, — most of all, that 
 she has helped me to die.' Yes, sir, it is a 
 great thing to help anybody to die. And 
 my poor Samuel " — 
 
 The mother again yielded to sobs. 
 
 Esquire Alton being now obliged to make 
 room for some newly-arrived mourners, 
 he went out, and, seeing the company of 
 children in the arbor, joined them. 
 
 " Is there room for me, here ? " he asked 
 in a low voice. 
 
 " Yes," said the oldest of the boys, 
 " there's a seat in the corner." 
 
 The young lawyer glanced in the direc- 
 tion indicated, and now for the first time 
 perceived Miss Winslow. He bowed.
 
 IMPRESSIONS BY THE WAY. 147 
 
 asked permission to occupy the seat next 
 her, and then entered into a low conversa- 
 tion respecting how she liked the vocation 
 of a teacher. 
 
 " It is a noble one," replied Miss Wins- 
 low, " though it has some evils, like aU 
 others." 
 
 "For instance, the greatest of these 
 evils ? " he queried. 
 
 " Are the examination first of the teach- 
 er and then of the scholars, by the august 
 members of the school committee ? " 
 
 The young man smiled quietly, but ap- 
 pearing not to notice the drift of her re- 
 mark, continued, — "I have thought it 
 would be well for all parties if the visiting 
 member of the committee could inspect 
 the school, incognito. ^^ 
 
 "Undoubtedly; for in that way, truth 
 
 ^
 
 148 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 might be gained, which, otherwise might 
 lie at the bottom of the well," returned 
 Miss Winslow. After a slight pause, she 
 went on with a touch of spirit in her tone : 
 — " He would not do her the injustice to 
 think her stiff and cold-hearted, when she 
 was only timid and unpractised. Her ap- 
 parent lack of popular cheerfulness would 
 be set down to its right cause." 
 
 The young committee-man now fixed 
 his eyes with a searching curiosity upon 
 hers, and, despite his ak of the travelled 
 man of self-poised ease, was unmistakably 
 hit by this caustic observation. What he 
 would have said in reply to this, did not 
 transpire, for at this moment the funeral 
 services were commenced by the minister 
 who stood in the door-way. 
 
 While the minister went on with his
 
 IMPRESSIONS BY THE WAY. 149 
 
 solemn words, Mary's eyes wandered away 
 to the hills and upland orchards in near 
 view ; and she reflected that the eyes of 
 her pupil, which had so often taken in the 
 same prospect, were now closed with that 
 seal which no man can open. How soon, 
 at the longest, thought she, will it be thus 
 with my own? Why should I then con- 
 cern myself much about anything, only to 
 fulfil the duty of the present hour with the 
 fear of God ever before me ? 
 
 " Suddenly the Angel of Death knocks 
 at our door," now said the minister, " and 
 sometimes we contrive to keep him out 
 and send him away ; but it is only for a 
 season. He returns, and the time, ay, the 
 moment comes when he will not go away 
 without one of our beloved ones bear him 
 company into that land, which, though the 
 
 13*
 
 150 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 most important of all realities to us, is yet 
 but a region of the great unknown. We 
 waft our sighs thitherward after the dark 
 messenger has gone with our heart's heart, 
 but they return to us void of tidings. Im- 
 plumous, they fly only the length of a this- 
 tle-down, when they fall to the earth with- 
 out even a brush of the edges of the low- 
 est heaven. Inspkation, alone, has power 
 to afford one solid hope to our stricken 
 hearts; and, as was said of old, are the 
 consolations of God small with thee ? This 
 is the victory which overcometh the world, 
 yea ail things, even our faith, — that 
 faith which is the substance of things 
 hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. 
 The author and finisher of this faith is 
 Jesus! Glorious Immanuel! What words 
 pronounced by human lips can set forth
 
 IMPRESSIONS BY THE WAY. 151 
 
 the blessedness of this name which is 
 above every name ! Who dares say in his 
 heart, ' I will not love and follow this 
 dear Saviour of sinners ? ' Is there a child 
 here who is old enough to look upon yon- 
 der coffined form of the departed play- 
 fellow and friend, and there read the alpha- 
 bet of death perhaps for the first time, who 
 wiU not here and now resolve to love the 
 dear Jesus who waits with outstretched 
 arms to bless all those who run. to him or 
 but touch the hem of his garment, for sal- 
 vation ? 
 
 " Do you ask what it is to run to Jesus 
 or to touch the hem of his garment, when 
 you cannot see him as the people once saw 
 him on earth among them? It is this, — 
 hasten to give your hearts to him, by seek- 
 ing to do every deed and speak every word
 
 152 THE BED BRIDGE. 
 
 which shall be right and good in his sight. 
 Touch his garment by your humble trust 
 and meek obedience. Remember that he 
 once endured the cross, despising the shame, 
 and this not to please himself, but to do 
 the will of his Father. Resolve, then, my 
 dear children and youth, to consecrate your 
 wills to his service and to receive his 
 blessing into your inmost hearts ; — that 
 when the Dark Angel shall come for you, 
 however sudden, and he shall say, *John, 
 or Mary, or Charles, you must go away 
 with me to-day to be seen here no more 
 forever,' you will, though perhaps surprised, 
 be ready and willing to obey, as one who 
 starts upon a pleasant journey into an un- 
 discovered country, joyful with the pros- 
 pect of going to your beloved Redeemer, 
 where there are only pleasures for ever-
 
 IMPRESSIONS BY THE WAY. 153 
 
 And thus the good man spoke, till every 
 heart around him was moved with the 
 solemn yet intensely interesting realities 
 of life and death. 
 
 The' next day, an unusual thoughtful- 
 ness prevailed among the children, and at 
 noon, they asked Miss Winslow to go 
 with them to their bower beside the wood, 
 for they had some things they wanted to 
 talk about. 
 
 " "We will not gather leaves or mosses, 
 to-day," said one to another ; " it is better 
 to learn what we can about what we 
 heard the minister say, yesterday." 
 
 Miss Winslow was likewise very sol- 
 emn, but realizing her inability to say, of 
 her own self, the fitting words to each 
 young inquirer, when they had all gath- 
 ered around her in the bower, she proposed
 
 154 THE BED BRIDGE. 
 
 that they should kneel down and silently 
 pray to God. 
 
 " I never prayed in my life," said Tom 
 Harding, " and I don't know what to say ; 
 I think you, teacher, had better pray out 
 aloud for us all. We will keep still and 
 hark to every word you say." 
 
 Mary had never prayed before such a 
 company, and she felt abashed at the first 
 thought of this effort. But how dare I 
 refuse," she reflected quickly, "when it is 
 written, ' Quench not the Spirit ! ' and the 
 Holy Spirit is evidently striving with these 
 hearts." 
 
 So she knelt and reverently offered there 
 her soul's desire to Him who has promised 
 to hear while such are yet speaking. Be- 
 fore she had ceased, there were sighs and 
 sobs all around her, from the stricken peni-
 
 IMPRESSIONS BY THE WAY. 155 
 
 tents. Afterward, every one of that group 
 had some questions to ask about what they 
 should do to be saved. She pointed them, 
 as best she could, to the Lamb for sinners 
 slain, and recommended each not to give 
 over the struggle in their hearts until they 
 had resolved to be Christ's own followers 
 through all coming time, and had received 
 the evidence that he accepted them for his 
 own. 
 
 Several of them then went farther into 
 the wood to pray for themselves. 
 
 Some of these found unspeakable peace 
 in this sweet exercise of penitent faith. 
 Tom Harding, however, declared that he 
 could not believe anything in these things. 
 " I try," said he, " but all is dark before me. 
 There are some, I find in the Bible, who 
 never become good, after all that is done
 
 156 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 to save them. I believe I am one of 
 them." 
 
 Miss Winslow mentioned his case to 
 a pious friend, and also wrote to Mrs. 
 Comfort respecting him, asking what to 
 do. " I am yet young in years and new 
 in the good way, so that I cannot be ex- 
 pected to have the needed wisdom," she 
 added. 
 
 " Humbly claim the promise that where 
 two or three are agreed touching any- 
 thing, it shall be done unto them," re- 
 plied Mrs. Comfort. She then named 
 stated seasons to pray for the divine truth 
 to find place in the heart of the inquir- 
 ing boy, requesting Mary to observe those 
 times in the same spirit of supplicating 
 faith. 
 
 A short time after this, Tom Harding
 
 IMPRESSIONS BY THE WAT. 157 
 
 joined Miss Wiiislow on her way home 
 from school one afternoon, and though 
 he forbore to speak of the subject upper- 
 most in his mind, his evident manner of 
 seriousness, as though a weight rested 
 upon his spirit, induced her to inquire if 
 he still felt, respecting the consecration 
 of his heart to God, as he formerly 
 had when conversed with upon the 
 subject. 
 
 " I don't know," he replied, hesitat- 
 ingly. 
 
 " Have you prayed for yom'self ? " 
 
 " Oh yes ! many times." 
 
 " Do you think God does not hear 
 your prayers ? " 
 
 " He hears them, but he doesn't an- 
 swer them as I expected." 
 
 " How did you expect ? " 
 11
 
 158 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 " I supposed, by what I had heard peo- 
 ple say, that I should have great joy 
 when I had prayed as I ought to, and 
 this would be because my sins were for- 
 given." 
 
 " Some people do not have this joy," 
 replied Miss Winslow. " K you have 
 truly repented of your sins and embraced 
 the Lord Jesus Christ as your Saviour, 
 by a living faith, you have a right, by 
 his divine word, to call yourself one of 
 his children. The Bible says, ' For ye 
 have not received the spirit of bondage 
 again to fear ; but ye have received the 
 spirit of adoption, whereby we cry, Abba, 
 Father' " 
 
 " What do you mean by living faith ? " 
 asked the boy. 
 
 " It is something like this," she repUed.
 
 IMPRESSIONS BY THE WAY. 159 
 
 " Two men started in a boat to cross a 
 lake to a certain point where they wished 
 to go. One of them said to the other, 
 ' I will go wdth you, though I have not 
 the least idea that this boat will serve 
 to get us across.' 
 
 " ' Why do you start, then ? ' said the 
 other. 
 
 "'Because it may just chance we shall 
 get across ; and yet, as I said, I have 
 not one well-grounded hope of doing 
 so.' 
 
 " ' If you have so little expectation of 
 success, I should think you would choose 
 to stay on the shore,' observed the one 
 who believed in the boat. 
 
 " ' If I stay, I shall be destroyed by the 
 wild beasts, it is certain, so I have made 
 up my mind to make the trial of getting
 
 160 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 " * I have not one doubt but that 1 
 shall get across, because the man who 
 owns the boat said it was perfectly safe,' 
 replied the other. 
 
 " Now, in the one case, you see," said 
 Miss Winslow, "that the man had a 
 faith which was living and worth much to 
 him. The other had a sort of faith, but 
 a dead one at the best. It is just so in 
 your present state. If you do not be- 
 lieve that God hears your prayers, when 
 you go to him as he has commanded, 
 although you may pray, it will be a 
 dead faith." 
 
 "But it is so hard to believe," said 
 the boy. 
 
 " In that case you must say as did one 
 of whom we read in the Holy Scripture : 
 * Lord, I believe ; help thou mine un- 
 beHef.' "
 
 IMPRESSIONS BY THE WAT. 161 
 
 . " Did the Lord hear such a prayer as 
 that?" asked Tom. 
 
 " Yes. He hears all the sincere yearn- 
 ings which go up to him from all the 
 varied, imperfect hearts of his creatures, 
 and from the abounding perfection of his 
 grace dispenses blessings according to our 
 necessities, in the plan of Infinite Wis- 
 dom." 
 
 " I can't see it, exactly," observed the 
 boy. 
 
 " You know how all the plants of the 
 earth of whatever kind, small and great, if 
 they have enough of life in them, are nour- 
 ished and strengthened by the sun ? "Well, 
 they get the nourishment and strength just 
 in proportion to their capability of receiv- 
 ing it, and their favorable locality. K they 
 are in deep and dark shadows, they es- 
 
 14*
 
 162 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 cape the precious blessing of the sun's 
 rays. So, if we have any divine life in 
 our hearts that enables us to look upward 
 towards God, he blesses us with his 
 grace, unless we are in the ungenial shade 
 of sin and worldly-mindedness. We then 
 have but an unnatural, sickly growth, of- 
 ten die before our time, or else become 
 encumbered with the fungus of vice, and 
 so have but a useless existence at the 
 best." 
 
 " It is so hard to understand," Tom said, 
 as he was about to turn off towards his 
 home. 
 
 " No ; you need not try to understand 
 in order to be good enough to be ac- 
 cepted by God. You have but to look 
 and live. The way is so plain, you can- 
 not err therein. Only make up your
 
 IMPRESSIONS BY THE WAY. 163 
 
 mind to start in it, and what wisdom 
 you need as you go on, will be given 
 you, day by day. Will you try ? " 
 
 " Perhaps I will ; but I am troubled 
 with many hard thoughts." 
 
 " Leave them all behind you." 
 
 " If I only could ! " 
 
 " Have you ever read about Christian 
 at the Wicket Gate, in Pilgrim's Prog- 
 ress ? " 
 
 " No, ma'am, I haven't." 
 
 " You must read it, then, as I have it 
 with me at my boarding-place. I will 
 bring it to you to-morrow. Good-by." 
 
 The boy hesitated to go on. At last, 
 he called after Miss Winslow, saying, 
 " Couldn't I go along now and get that 
 book?" 
 
 " Certainly, if yon like," said IMary,
 
 164 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 much pleased to discover the interest of 
 her pupil, — one, too, whom she but re- 
 cently would not have suspected of this. 
 It was now within a few days of the 
 close of her school. One project, which 
 had been upon her mind, was yet un- 
 developed. This was to impress upon 
 her pupils, in some way, the imperative 
 necessity of being whole-hearted friends 
 to the holy cause of temperance. How 
 to present the subject, so as to rightly 
 attract these young minds, was a ques- 
 tion now frequently revolving in her mind. 
 There were, apparently, parents in that 
 district who would oppose any such at- 
 tempt. She resolved to make this a 
 special subject of prayer.
 
 VI. 
 €mmxnntmn gag. 
 
 ^f HE Roman emperor who had his own 
 ^^ figure painted on a canvas, one 
 W hundred and twenty feet in height, 
 must have experienced that " touch of 
 nature " which " makes him kin " to the 
 smallest school-child on that memorable 
 occasion, — examination day. It is this 
 great event which brings out the numer- 
 ous capabilities of the beautiful, the use- 
 ful, and the intellectual, which else might 
 lie latent, so far as the recognition of the 
 surrounding world is reckoned. What 
 heart not wholly devoted to cynical self- 
 ism, can fail to throb with pleasure on 
 
 (165)
 
 166 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 beholding the little boys and girls, and 
 the great ones as well, all nice and fresh 
 in their equipment for the "last day" of 
 the school. Bodies and minds are en- 
 veloped in a beauty which is accompanied 
 by a satisfaction, such as, perhaps, no 
 other scene in after life can eclipse or 
 even equal. 
 
 There they were around the old school- 
 house under the butternut-tree, or within 
 its sweet, clean room, which had been 
 adorned with garlands and pretty rural 
 devices " too numerous to mention," wait- 
 ing for Miss Win slow to make her appear- 
 ance at the top of the hill — the first point 
 where her recognition was possible. 
 
 At last a straw hat with black ribbons, 
 under a black parasol lined with white, 
 made its appearance. A half-dozen of the
 
 EXAMINATION DAY. 167 
 
 girls were off immediately to meet and es- 
 cort her to the door. 
 
 '' How beautiful she is in her spotted 
 white-muslin ! " said one. 
 
 " So trim and so spruce ! " observed 
 another. 
 
 " And such splendid hair ! " was heard 
 fifom a third. 
 
 " I know what makes them call her all 
 these fine names," now spoke up Tom 
 Harding from an open window, at which 
 he stood gazing after the crowd. 
 
 " How is that ? " asked a boy beside him. 
 
 " It's because she has been real good 
 and kind to us. If she had been cross and 
 ugly to us all summer, her gown would 
 have been like a toad's back, and her hair 
 as horrid as the sun's in our old Farmer's 
 Almanac."
 
 168 THE EED BRIDGE. 
 
 " But then, Miss Winslow is a nice- 
 looking person it can't be denied," said the 
 other. 
 
 " All in the way you look at things, you 
 may depend ! " 
 
 " How shall we look at you, then ? " 
 
 " As a lion, wild and free in his native 
 jungle. My mother sometimes says to 
 me, ' Thomas, my lamb, go and do this or 
 that.' I can't bear to hear it. I hate to be 
 called a lamb." 
 
 " Perhaps a cub would be more in char- 
 acter." 
 
 Tom now resented this speech by be- 
 laying his companion after the style of 
 similar boys in his situation. In the me- 
 l^e the boys fell against a smaller one 
 who was not spry enough to escape the 
 circuit of the combatants. Thereupon a
 
 EXAMINATION DAT. 169 
 
 high scream was heard to pierce the tran- 
 quil morning air. By the time the teacher 
 and her fairy-like attendants had entered 
 the school-house, the scene was enough to 
 appal the angel of beauty and order who 
 was supposed to preside over this choice 
 occasion, 
 
 " What has happened ? " queried Miss 
 Winslow of the little child who ran tow- 
 ards her in his affright and tears. 
 
 " Tom Harding is licking John Roe, for 
 he called him a lamb or some such 
 thing." 
 
 " 'Twas a cub I called him," said John, 
 now disengaging himself from Tom's 
 grasp and pushing back his hair from his 
 flushed forehead. 
 
 " And I wasn't a-going to bear it," con- 
 tinued Tom, laughing, " we'd a done well 
 
 15
 
 170 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 enough, if we hadn't hit that great calf 
 there ! " 
 
 Another gush of grief from the newly- 
 injured boy who had been set down in 
 the beastly score of affronts, prompted 
 Miss Winslow to announce in a tone of 
 authority that all these words and ac- 
 tions must cease. 
 
 " Thomas, I am very sorry, for I had 
 thought better things of you ! " she said, 
 looking on him so reproachfully he turned 
 away with an unmistakable look of regret. 
 
 " It is too bad," said the girls, " when 
 we had got everything so nice and fine, 
 and we were so proud to have teacher 
 see it all, to think those great boys must 
 spoil all the first good effect ! " 
 
 "Just, too, over a few animal names," 
 exclaimed one of them, "when they are 
 all a set of noisy creatures at the best."
 
 EXAMINATION DAY. 171 
 
 " What do you call us ? " inquired Tom, 
 reappearing with an air of good-humor. 
 
 " I call ?/o«V' said one of the elder 
 girls, "the serpent who appeared in the 
 beautiful garden and spoilt all their fun 
 at the beginning." 
 
 " Very good. That's bully," said Tom. 
 " Call me anything but a lamb. That is 
 so soft." 
 
 " Do you not remember," said Miss 
 Winslow, " that our adorable Redeemer 
 is compared to a lamb in one place 
 in holy Scripture ; while in another he 
 is called by this name ? How can you 
 affect to despise a name which was so 
 dear to him that he said in accents of 
 the utmost tenderness to one of his dis- 
 ciples, ' Feed my lambs ' ? I bad hoped 
 that you were one of these precious ones,
 
 172 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 for whom the Lamb was slain from the 
 foundations of the world, and that you 
 were now fed by the heavenly manna of 
 which, if one eat, he shall hunger no more.'* 
 
 " I didn't mean that," replied Tom ; 
 "but our Saviour was also called the 
 Lion of Judah, was he not?" 
 
 " He was thinking about Daniel Web- 
 ster, who was called the lion of the 
 north," said his sister. 
 
 " No I wasn't," said Tom, coloring. 
 
 " Never mind now what he was thinking 
 about," spoke Miss Winslow, who had 
 compassion on the boy's confusion. " We 
 are all thoughtless at times, so that we 
 need the charity of our fellow-beings, most 
 of all, of Him who knoweth our hearts. 
 Thomas, let me dismiss this subject by 
 giving you one text to remember, * Serv-
 
 EXAMINATION DAY. 173 
 
 ing the Lord with all humility of mind.' 
 Acts XX. 19." 
 
 The children were no\v called to take 
 their seats. JVIiss Winslow took a few 
 moments before the arrival of the visit- 
 ors to say to them as follows : — 
 
 " I trust that none of you will be 
 guilty of such rudeness as to stare at 
 the people, either upon their first appear- 
 ance or afterwards. Whoever may come 
 or whatever may happen, do not ex- 
 change smiles, or in any other w^ay be- 
 tray an emotion of ridicule. This laugh- 
 ing at others' peculiarities is a mark of 
 weakness of mind and badness of manners." 
 
 She then called upon one of the 
 younger pupils to give what she had 
 just told them in his own language, — 
 which was her custom when she wished 
 
 15*
 
 174 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 to impress any observation of importance, 
 not less for the good of the individual 
 called upon, than for the benefit of the 
 whole school. 
 
 Joseph May, a pert lad of nine years, 
 stood up and said, " You don't want 
 any of us to look at the folks that 
 come, as though we were aU wild 
 beasts who had never set eyes on any- 
 body afore to-day." 
 
 A universal laugh now interrupted the 
 boy, and Miss Winslow was obliged to 
 hide her own smiles behind her fan. 
 
 " But," continued Joseph, emphatically, 
 " if any of 'em have on anything ever so 
 queer, or make a mistake and set down 
 on the floor instead of a chair, we are 
 not to move a nose of our faces more'n 
 as though we were at a funeral.'*
 
 EXAMINATION DAY. 175 
 
 " And what is laughing at the pecu- 
 liarities of others ? " continued the teacher. 
 
 "'Tis a sign of — of a soft head and 
 a " — The boy could not quite tell the rest. 
 
 " Any one ? " said Miss Winslow. 
 
 " A rotten heart, " said another. 
 
 " That phrase is too inelegant," she said. 
 Tom Harding now raised his hand. 
 
 " What will you say of it, Thomas ? " 
 
 " It's a mark of a boor and a bear, both." 
 
 A loud knock was now heard on the 
 door. Several of the parents and friends 
 of the children had come. Arrivals con- 
 tinued until the old house was crowded, 
 for, to the rare praise of this district, be it 
 recorded that they cultivated such an inter- 
 est in the common education of their chil- 
 dren, that few events had for them more 
 scope for attention than an occasion like
 
 176 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 the present. Two of the committee had 
 arrived, but where was the third, — the 
 yomig lawyer whom Miss Winslow had 
 been anxiously expecting for the last 
 half hour? 
 
 " Somethiiig has probably newly occurred 
 to prevent his being here, to-day," whis- 
 pered one of the official gentlemen to Miss 
 Winslow ; " but you had better proceed, 
 for he will not be likely to appear now, 
 as he is usually very punctual." 
 
 Mary would not have confessed to her- 
 self that she» w^as disappointed at his 
 non-appearance ; but the fact would have 
 been evident to an eye-witness of the 
 emotion of her secret heart. 
 
 Mary had taken unusual pains with her 
 pupils in their reading. She would not 
 have assigned the reason to have been
 
 EXAMINATION DAY. 177 
 
 the real fact of Mr. Alton having called 
 especial attention to the importance of 
 this exercise being rightly managed. He 
 was a fine reader himself, and appreciated 
 good reading. She had hoped that he 
 would have been present to have wit- 
 nessed the results of the efforts made 
 in this regard during the term. But 
 one class after another was examined, 
 yet he did not come. 
 
 There was yet her first class, with which 
 she had taken so much pains. She would 
 defer this till just before recess 
 
 The half-hours flew by. Every one did 
 their best, even better than Mary had ex- 
 pected. " If he had only been here ! " she 
 thought. 
 
 It was getting warm, and the fans of the 
 lady visitors did effectual service ; but
 
 178 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 their interest flagged not. Everything was 
 orderly, nice, and sometimes so novel in its 
 procedm-e, they thought not of weariness. 
 
 Now there was a heavy step on the old 
 door-stone ; then a knock with a cane. 
 Mary's heart fluttered. It might be Esquire 
 Alton, after all. She was glad that Tom 
 Harding had not declaimed yet, and that 
 the oldest class had not read. Mary went 
 to the door with a light step. 
 
 " Friend," spoke a strange, hollow voice, 
 from under a very wide-rimmed white hat, 
 " I was passing along here on my journey, 
 and, from what I saw and heard, I con- 
 cluded that this was the closing of thy 
 school. Will thee suffer a tu'ed traveller to 
 turn in and rest awhile under thy roof ? " 
 
 " Certainly, sir," answered Mary ; " walk 
 in." She then led the way within the in-
 
 EXAMINATION DAY. 179 
 
 ner room, and assigned the traveling Friend 
 a seat next the gentlemen of the examin- 
 ing committee. But he said, " I will 
 take a lower seat," and stationed himself 
 on a chair near the water-pail by the door. 
 
 It was well that the scholars had received 
 such preliminary training, but a short time 
 ago, respecting the propriety of not staring 
 nor laughing in the presence of unexpected 
 and odd-looking individuals. For this man, 
 with Ids coal-black beard and long black 
 hair under the curious hat which he did 
 not remove from his head, his long, drab- 
 colored coat and his sharp-toed shoes with 
 silver buckles, was almost enough to move 
 the risibles of better-trained muscles than 
 those of the children around him. 
 
 " He is a shaking Quaker," wrote one 
 of the girls to her seat-mate.
 
 180 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 " Rather an itinerant beauty," was writ- 
 ten back. 
 
 " I guess it is JefF. Davis, come as a 
 spy," whispered one of the boys. 
 
 " He looks as if he could take all the 
 free States through this school-house, 
 by passing round his hat," said another. 
 
 Miss Winslow tapped with her pencil 
 and motioned her pupils to preserve or- 
 der. 
 
 "I wish this man had kept out," she 
 said to herself. " His very presence in- 
 fects the whole school with just what I 
 warned them against. They were doing 
 well tUl he came in among us." 
 
 The sons of God, in Job's time, could 
 hardly have been more disturbed by the 
 appearance of their unbidden guest. The 
 committee left off watching the classes
 
 EXAMINATION DAY. 181 
 
 in their new interest in the strange 
 Quaker. 
 
 But the object of all this stir pre- 
 served the tenor of his ways with most 
 exemplary equanimity. He noticed none 
 of the curious glances, but made up 
 for the visitors' diminished interest in the 
 classes by bestowing a double share him- 
 self. 
 
 At recess some of the boys said, in 
 so loud a voice it must have been heard 
 by the subject of their remarks, who con- 
 tinued to sit near the open door, — 
 
 " If ever I had to hold on to keep 
 from laughing, it was in there ; but I 
 reckoned it would hurt Miss Win slow, af- 
 ter what she said to us, so I just looked 
 away from old Broadbrim, and thought 
 
 IG
 
 182 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 of the cucumber-vines over across the 
 road, which I could see from my seat." 
 
 The writing-books, maps drawn by the 
 pupils, with the school-register, were now 
 passed around, when, on their coming to 
 the stranger, he took out his spectacles 
 from a large steel case, and, carefully 
 adjusting them, examined the books with 
 a notice which was very complimentary 
 to all the interested parties. 
 
 The time came at last when Mary de- 
 clared her part of the exercises of the 
 occasion finished. The gentlemen of the 
 committee then exchanged several loud- 
 ly-whispered communications, after which 
 the oldest one, who was a much-re- 
 spected clergyman of the town, rose, 
 coughed a little, placed his chair before 
 him, and began by saying, that he was
 
 EXAMINATION DAY. 183 
 
 much gratified to see the large and in- 
 terested company of spectators present 
 on that occasion. Meantime he looked 
 very frequently in the direction of the 
 open door where sat the strange guest. 
 He then said several other things, which 
 had reference to their proficiency, good 
 appearance, and decided success ; but 
 as the time was rapidly passing away, 
 he would give way to his friend of 
 the committee, who, he trusted, would 
 be followed by other visitors, who might 
 have a word to add on the occasion. 
 
 The " friend of the committee " said 
 pretty much what he had said a score 
 of times before on such emergencies, 
 hoping that they would not lay aside 
 their books during the long time which 
 intervened before the fall school, and that
 
 184 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 they would be grateful to the kind friends 
 who had thoughtfully provided such lib- 
 eral advantages for their securing an 
 education in the morning of life. 
 
 There was then a long pause, when 
 an invitation was again extended to any 
 friend present, who might have some- 
 thing edifying to offer on that occasion. 
 
 The strange Friend now slowly rose 
 from his seat, while he took off his 
 spectacles and deliberately placed them 
 in the case, which he shut with a loud 
 snap, then, folding his arms behind his 
 back, began accordingly : 
 
 " Friends of thy town and friend Mary 
 Winslow, as I perceive thou art named in 
 the register of thy school, with all these 
 young friends about me ! in behalf of a 
 plain people who love the good common-
 
 EXAMINATION DAY. 185 
 
 school, I take this opportunity, most unex- 
 pectedly, to greet ye ail ! 
 
 " I judge ye have done well in the past, 
 each in his place, teacher and learner ; 
 may ye do as well in the time yet be- 
 fore ye. We read that there was once 
 a statue of black marble set up in Thebes 
 in Egypt, to the memory of Memnon, and 
 that, when the earliest rays of the dawn 
 struck upon this statue, it would give out 
 sweet tunes, as if rejoicing. Now, this 
 marble statue may be compared to the 
 human mind, and the earlier the rays of 
 knowledge strike on it, the sweeter will be 
 the tones in response. By and by, when 
 the sun was up in the heavens, the dark 
 marble was doubtless very beautiful in the 
 golden beams, but there were heard no 
 gentle, rapturous notes of harmony. 
 
 16*
 
 186 THE KED BRIDGE. 
 
 " Possibly it gave out true responses, al- 
 most like a god, when men came to it for 
 wisdom ; but it made no music only early 
 in the morning. So must ye, my young 
 friends, look at the fountain of wisdom 
 early in life, also early each day of that 
 life, and early in the opportunities of that 
 day. ' Know your opportunity ' said one 
 of the seven wise men of Greece. And 
 the saying is good for each of us, to-day. 
 Never let slip an occasion to get or to do 
 good by thy delays. 
 
 " Remember it is the first ray of the dawn 
 that brings out the music. Now, if any of 
 you have reasonable plans for the future, 
 strike on them at the earliest opportunity, 
 and not put them off till thee lose thy 
 chance." 
 
 Here our strange Friend ceased, which
 
 EXAMINATION DAT. 187 
 
 was well, for his voice, being as peculiar 
 as his outer garb, excited the merriment of 
 the school and even some of the spectators. 
 Miss Winslow was much pained at these 
 demonstrations of disrespect to one, ap- 
 parently so many years their senior and 
 withal a stranger. 
 
 The Quaker saw that he was ridiculed 
 by nearly all present, except the teacher, 
 and taking his cane, he bowed to her, and 
 then made a movement to go out. But 
 an afterthought detained him. Turning 
 back once more, he said — " Friends I 
 though all of you except thy pastor and 
 thy teacher, are discourteous to the de- 
 spised Quaker, one day ye will know he 
 is able to do ye good or ill." 
 
 He then walked away. 
 
 When the exercises had all concluded,
 
 188 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 and the company had left, except one or 
 two of the parents who resided at a dis- 
 tance, and waited without the door, to be 
 accompanied by their children, Mary re- 
 smned her position in the desk and after 
 distributing the prize-books to those pupils 
 who had excelled in their several classes, 
 she said she had something to present to 
 each of them, provided they would accept 
 it and write their names, each pupil, on 
 the gift. Every eye now kindled with a 
 new interest, and there was a general sen- 
 sation throughout the school. 
 
 " I hold in my hand a box which con- 
 tains just as many juvenile Temperance 
 Pledges as there are members of this 
 school," she continued, at the same time 
 opening the box and displaying the beauti- 
 ful pink, blue, orange, and red cards on
 
 EXAMINATION DAY. 189 
 
 which was printed the Pledge. " Now, I 
 propose that we form ourselves into a little 
 Temperance Society, as a memorial of the 
 close of this pleasant term of school, and 
 every girl and boy who is willing to join in 
 this good work will sign his or her name to 
 the card, and then keep it as a testimonial 
 of their interest in this holy cause and also 
 of my regard for each of you." 
 
 She then circulated the cards among 
 them, saying that a few days previous she 
 had sent to an energetic and wise advo- 
 cate of temperance for pledges, and these 
 had been the result, with a cheering 
 letter, which she proceeded to read aloud. 
 
 The children read upon the cards : — 
 
 " Oh, if for me the cup you fill, 
 Then fill it from the gushing rill."
 
 190 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 PLEDGE ! 
 I, tlie undersigned, do agree to abstain from the 
 use of All Intoxicating Drinks, as a beverage ; 
 and will use my influence to persuade others to 
 do the same. I also agree to abstain from the use of 
 Tobacco, in any of its forms." 
 
 " What say ? will you sign ? " asked one 
 of the bgys of Tom Harding, in a loud 
 whisper. 
 
 " I think not. I like to smoke father's 
 pipe, and a cigar now and then," said Tom. 
 
 " And I," said another, " like the wine 
 which we make from our grapes.' ' 
 
 " We can drink cider, if we do sign 
 this ? " asked one of the boys of Miss 
 Winslow. 
 
 " No, indeed," said one of the girls, 
 " for I have seen people just as near 
 drunk as a body could be, on old cider."
 
 EXAMINATION DAY. 191 
 
 " Anything which is fermented, if drunk 
 in sufficient quantity, can intoxicate," 
 spoke Miss Winslow, " and some people 
 think that cider produces a worse effect 
 on the temper than even wine or other 
 liquors." 
 
 " I guess I can't sign," spoke up a 
 little boy, "for I drink lots of cider and 
 chew cuds, too, whenever I can get 
 them." 
 
 A heavy step was now heard in the 
 entry. It was doubtless one of the 
 parents ^ho had been listening beneath 
 the open windows. Mary's heart sunk 
 within her. 
 
 " It is all a failure after my pains to 
 get the pledges and leave a good work 
 weU rounded in this place," she said to 
 herself.
 
 192 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 The door opened and a pale, haggard 
 man, who trembled in every limb, stood 
 before them. 
 
 Mary would not have recognized him, 
 had not one of the scholars said to her 
 seat-mate so loud as to be heard, " It is 
 old John Wilkins, what used to be our 
 Sam's father." 
 
 A hush pervaded the whole of that 
 group for it was no common spectacle 
 which met theii* eyes. John Wilkins was 
 now rarely seen beyond his own door. 
 Formerly, long before the memory of the 
 oldest of these children, he had been a 
 thriving, capable man, but " intoxicating 
 drinks " had v\Toughr ruin both to his 
 property and health. He had been con- 
 sidered for some years as partially insane, 
 and had it not been for his unusually
 
 EXAMINATION DAY. 193 
 
 smart and energetic wife, everything 
 which nominally belonged to him, would 
 have hopelessly sunk to the depths of 
 wretchedness. 
 
 " Boys," said he, extending his quiver- 
 ing hand, "do any of- you stop about 
 signing that pledge ? I came here to 
 see your teacher once more, and I heard 
 out there what you said. If you feel 
 now that you can't give up the accursed 
 stuffs, — the rum and the wine and cider 
 as well, with tobacco, — why, then, now 
 look at me and see what you'll come 
 to, one day. I have been a mean, wil- 
 ful slave to all of them, and should have 
 died a fool or a crazy man, if it hadn't 
 been for what I promised when my poor 
 boy died, this summer. I'm nov/ mis- 
 erable old John Wilkins, good for noth-
 
 194 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 ing to myself or anybody else. My 
 strength is all gone so that I can hardly 
 feed myself. And I'm the most to be 
 pitied of anybody there is around here. 
 What's done it all ? This drinking and 
 smoking ! 
 
 "Do you want to gTOW up just such 
 curses to your folks, as these things will 
 surely make you? 
 
 " Why, what do you suppose it would 
 have been worth to me, when I was a 
 boy like you here, if somebody had come 
 along with one of these pledges, and I 
 had signed and then kept it! It would 
 have made me a man with a thriving 
 farm, a plenty of money in the bank 
 that I could have educated my children 
 with, and kept my poor, abused wife 
 somethiiig as respectable folks keep their
 
 EXAMINATION DAY. 195 
 
 wives. Oh dear I " — His voice faltered, 
 and he burst into tears. The children 
 began, likewise, to cry. Tears were seen 
 in the eyes of the teacher. 
 
 " My poor boy — little Sam, that's dead 
 and gone — suffered dreadfully with shame 
 over his drunken father. I've seen him 
 slink back when anybody came along, 
 and beg of me to hide away, too, I used 
 to be so ragged and wretched. And I — 
 I beat him — yes, I have whipped him 
 when he spoke to me about it" — 
 
 Again he yielded to his sobs. 
 
 " But my poor child is now where he 
 wont have to be ashamed of drunken 
 folks. He's got on a clean robe, a white 
 robe " — 
 
 " My dear cliildren," now spoke Miss 
 Winslow, " if you had seen what I have
 
 196 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 seen from the effects of drinking strong 
 drink, 3'OU would welcome these pledges 
 as bright messengers of peace and good 
 fortune. Turn over the cards and see the 
 other side. Thomas, you will please 
 read aloud from the back of your card." 
 
 Tom Harding looked rather abashed 
 as he read in a loud, firm voice : — 
 
 " Who hath woe ? who hath sorrow ? 
 who hath contentions? who hath bab- 
 lings ? who hath wounds without cause ? 
 who hath redness of eyes ? 
 
 " They that tarry long at the wine, 
 they that go to seek mixed wine. Look 
 not thou upon the wine when it is red, 
 when it giveth his color in the cup, when 
 it moveth itself aright. 
 
 " At the last it biteth like a serpent, 
 and stingeth like an adder."
 
 EXAMINATION DAY. 197 
 
 " Taste not ! hear what wisdom saith ; 
 Should'st thou taint thy pure, sweet breath ? 
 Quench thy young eyes' lustrous light 
 'Neath its baneful, blasting blight 1 
 No, by God's sweet goodness, no ! 
 Taste not ! Bid the tempter go." 
 
 "TOUCH NOT THE UNCLEAN THING." 
 
 Oh, forge no fetters for thy soul ! 
 
 From evil habits flee ; 
 Yield not thy youthful heart to sin — 
 
 Its strength may master thee." 
 
 " I'll take a red one, Miss Winslow, 
 and please to lend me your pen," said 
 Tom, as he finished reading. 
 
 " And I," said another, " want a blue 
 card to put my name on." 
 
 " It's dreadful hard to give up dad's 
 old pipe, and the cigars," was now heard 
 in another direction, "but for the sake of 
 the thing it can be done." 
 
 " Smoking don't do no hurt," put in 
 17 *
 
 198 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 some one, at this juncture ; " if it did, our 
 folks, I guess, would have been hurted 
 clean dead." 
 
 " Smoking, or chewing," said Miss 
 Winslow, "is a vile habit, which injures 
 the brain, the stomach, and the nerves. 
 No man nor youth, who yields to these 
 practices, can be what he would without 
 them. Besides, think of the expense of 
 these things! The money you would 
 spend in this way, would get you quite a 
 library in a short time." 
 
 " I'm in for the beautiful pledges," was 
 now the general cry. 
 
 Old Ml*. Wilkin s now advanced a step, 
 and looked around him, with a smile 
 struggling to come out on his face. 
 
 " Walk forward, sir," said Mary, " and 
 take a seat with us."
 
 EXAMINATION DAT. 199 
 
 " I've not lived quite all my life in 
 vain, after all," he said ; " this sight does 
 my heart good." 
 
 " I rejoice that you came here," said 
 Mary ; " and I hope that your angel-boy 
 is now where he can see us. There 
 must be joy in heaven to-day." 
 
 Tom Harding went around among the 
 boys and girls, pen and ink in hand, 
 urging where it was necessary, and when 
 they were too small to write, carrying 
 the cards to Miss Winslow to write theu* 
 names. 
 
 At length, he cried out, " They've all 
 signed. Miss Winslow." 
 
 Mary then expressed her gratitude for 
 the noble act they had done, reminding 
 them of their dependence upon God for 
 strength to keep the promises they had
 
 200 THE BED BRIDGE. 
 
 solemnly made. All then bade her fare- 
 well with much tenderness. Tom Har- 
 ding, in a low voice, told her he had 
 made up his mind, also, to be a Chris- 
 tian. 
 
 " Pray for me that I may escape hell," 
 were Mr. Wilkins' last words to her. She 
 was enabled to say appropriate words to 
 each. 
 
 On entering the door of her boarding- 
 place, she was not a little surprised to 
 find the strange Quaker there, partaking 
 leisurely of milk, bread, and cheese. His 
 hat was still on his head, and she had 
 been in the room some little time before 
 he showed any consciousness of her pres- 
 ence. At length he tm'ned towards her 
 and said, — 
 
 " A philosopher has written, * Patience
 
 EXAMINATION DAY. 201 
 
 is bitter, but its fruit is sweet.' Thee 
 can now take the opportunity to reap 
 some of the rewards of that virtue." 
 
 " I fear I do not deserve much credit 
 for patience," replied Mary ; " what little 
 I owned was nearly all wasted to-day, at 
 one time." 
 
 « As how ? " 
 
 " I had given them a careful lesson upon 
 the importance of showing no unbecoming 
 emotion in the presence of visitors. After 
 that, how iU they behaved in that re- 
 gard ! " 
 
 " I noticed that in thy scholars, friend : 
 but since thou didst not lend thy counte- 
 nance to such deportment, it bodes me 
 no ill to speak of. Moreover they were 
 not so much to blame, as they knew not 
 what manner of man I am."
 
 202 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 " Will you permit me to inquire, sir, 
 who you may be ? " asked Mary, who 
 had now her curiosity fairly aroused. 
 
 " That thou mayst do." 
 
 " Well ? " said Mary, adding to herself, 
 « Why don't he tell, then ? " 
 
 " It is not expedient for me to tell thee 
 now ; but thou shalt know hereafter." 
 
 Mary was annoyed at this reply, but 
 said nothing, for there was something 
 about him which impressed her with re- 
 spect, despite herself. 
 
 "Dost thou have it in thy mind to 
 teach soon again, friend Winslow ? " he 
 asked, after a long pause, during which 
 he had been occupied with his repast. 
 
 " I cannot tell you now, sir," she re- 
 plied. 
 
 He turned his eyes on hers, to read if
 
 EXAMINATION DAY. 203 
 
 she, in this reply, were intending to an- 
 swer him after his own style. She looked 
 away, indifferently. 
 
 " I hope I shall know my opportunity," 
 she added. 
 
 He smiled, but was silent. 
 
 The articles of food were liberally paid 
 for, and he rose to go. 
 
 " Have you far to go, sir ? " inquired 
 the lady of the house. 
 
 "I know not," he said; "the journey 
 of life is uncertain in its length. We 
 are here to-day ; there, to-morrow ; one 
 man on this occasion, another on that. 
 We are the creatures of change ; but as 
 it is written in AdJPopulum, ' Let Heaven 
 and Earth, and Angel and Man, and all 
 change ; still, stiU, Ego Deus non mutor, — 
 God he is the Lord of all, and he chang-
 
 204 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 eth not.' Farewell, Mistress Swan, and 
 friend Mary Win slow." He was gone. 
 
 " How did he know your name ? " 
 asked Mary of Mi's. Swan, the woman 
 of the house. 
 
 " He is crazy I " exclaimed that woman 
 with an alarmed air. " Let me look to 
 it that my silver is all safe. Where is 
 little Jackey ? " indicating her youngest 
 child who was just old enough to toddle 
 about. 
 
 She sprang hurriedly to look out after 
 him. 
 
 " There he is," said Mary, " walking off 
 up the hill with that man, who leads him 
 by the hand. They are talking together 
 like old friends." 
 
 The frightened mother darted quickly 
 away after her boy. "Jackey, Jackey,
 
 EXAMmATION DAY. 205 
 
 come right home ! " she cried. The stran- 
 ger stopped, looked back with unfeigned 
 surprise at the advancing mother, then 
 motioned the child to go to her. But 
 Jackey now set up a loud cry to go on ♦ 
 with the Quaker. 
 
 " The despised stranger is understood 
 by one, at least," he said, as he resigned 
 the child into his breathless mother's 
 hands. 
 
 " All he knows," said the mother, impa- 
 tiently leading him away. 
 
 That night all the doors in that neigh- 
 borhood were fastened with greater care 
 thfin usual, and Mrs. Swan, as she averred, 
 never shut her eyes to sleep a single wink. 
 For several days after, inquiries were 
 made if any one had seen a mad Quaker 
 anywhere on the up-town road, or if there 
 
 18
 
 206 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 had been a new-arrival at the poor-house 
 of late? 
 
 Miss Winslow concluded that he was a 
 traveling agent for some beneficent or ed- 
 ucational institution, and by no means 
 agreed w4th the general opinion of his 
 insanity. She had gone away to spend 
 her vacation with an old school-friend 
 who resided some twenty miles distant 
 from the locality of the district-school, 
 when-" she received a letter in a handwrit- 
 ing unfamiliar, yet not wholly unrecog- 
 nized. She hurriedly opened it and read 
 as follows : — 
 
 " Will Miss Winslow pardon the bold 
 
 design, with its successful execution, by 
 
 the ' absent member of the school-com- 
 
 >. mittee,' that considered observations taken
 
 EXAJnNATION DAY. 207 
 
 * incognito ' would prove more valuable to 
 one, who, in some unaccountable way 
 had fallen under the ban of her ill prej- 
 udice ? 
 
 " The Quaker garb, inherited from the 
 maternal grandfather, with the aid of hair- 
 dye, proved useful if not beautiful. 
 
 " Impressions were thus received of char- 
 acter which no other ' opportunity ' could 
 so abundantly have furnished. As con- 
 sent was j&rst obtained to the incognito, 
 it is reckoned that all has been done 
 fairly. 
 
 " Respectfully yours, 
 a^ " Harey Alton." 
 
 " Was ever anything so trying ! " ex- 
 claimed Mary on reading this letter. " To 
 thilik I did not mistrust him, while I
 
 208 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 thought I was patronizing an unpretend- 
 ing wayfarer ! " 
 
 She looked farther and saw a post- 
 script : — 
 
 " If it is not asking more than I have 
 any right to, I shall reckon it a favor to 
 have this little episode a la the * Knight of 
 the Green Plume,' retained undisclosed 
 to my fellow-citizens around me." 
 
 Some young ladies would have an- 
 swered this by a long, elaborate epistle ; 
 but after considering the matter, Mary 
 decided that she should not continilfe the 
 correspondence, unless formally invited to 
 do so. 
 
 " There is nothing gained by forestalling 
 matters, or by pursuing any slight advan-
 
 EXAMINATION DAY. 209 
 
 tage which may chance to occur of this 
 Idnd," she said to herself; "besides, I 
 trust I have wisdom enough to know that 
 my ' opportunity ' is not to be seized, but 
 rather accepted when presented to me by 
 the unmistakable hand of Providence. 
 
 18*
 
 VII. 
 
 Cnr J^E next find Mary at Blenheim Fe- 
 ^^ male Seminary, — one of many 
 o popular resorts for the young la- 
 dies of our land, some of whom desire 
 to obtain an education, while others are 
 satisfied with the name of so doing. 
 She was admitted on these conditions: 
 — to be a member of the senior class, 
 which would graduate in one year, and 
 also have the charge of several classes 
 as instructor. After her graduation, if 
 nothing transpired to prevent, she was to 
 be engaged as a regular teacher. Her 
 straitened circumstances, pecuniarily, ren- 
 
 (210)
 
 SEMINARY LIFE. 211 
 
 dered this arrangement especially fortu- 
 nate. 
 
 It is sometimes the case with reliable 
 persons that their lot is cast with the 
 giddy and uncertain ones, for the sake 
 of the general good; and so Mary was 
 assigned by Mrs. Harrison, the Principal, 
 to room with Miss Wallingford, a gay 
 young lady from the neighboring city. 
 As this girl was generally popular with 
 the members of the school, her influence 
 which set at first in favor of Mary, 
 proved of good service and contributed 
 not a little to the establishment of a 
 feeling of content and satisfaction in her 
 desolate heart. 
 
 Everything seemed now to tend to- 
 wards her prosperity, for she succeeded, 
 even beyond her expectations, both as a
 
 212 THE EED BRIDGE. 
 
 pupil and teacher. She was resolved, as 
 was the habit of her life, to throw her 
 whole soul into her work ; and her life was 
 devoted, day by day, to the fulfilment of 
 her duties, in the most creditable man- 
 ner. Her career as a student bade fair 
 to be more brilliant and satisfactory than 
 that of any other member of the school. 
 But life has lessons for those who 
 watch the order of divine Providence, 
 of which she had learned scarcely more 
 than the alphabet. One of these is, that 
 " Every branch which beareth fruit. He 
 purgeth it that it may bring forth more 
 fruit." Another is, " They that live godly 
 in Christ Jesus must suffer persecution." 
 Mary supposed, if she did well in aU 
 respects, every one would acknowledge 
 her goodness, by using her fairly and on
 
 SEMINARY LIFE. 213 
 
 terms of love and confidence. But no 
 sooner had her excellence become con- 
 spicuous, than the evil eye of Envy fell 
 upon her with its blight and blackness. 
 She had ever conducted towards her 
 room-mate with irreproachable friendli- 
 ness, but, after a time, that young lady 
 began to wonder within herself why she 
 was not respected and admired by teach- 
 ers and pupils as much as was Miss 
 Winslow. From this she came to think 
 that her room-mate gained more of popular 
 favor than was her right. And, without 
 being herself aware of the sinister spirit 
 she had suffered to enter into her heart, 
 she watched for an opportunity to cut 
 away some of Mary's desirable founda- 
 tion on which she rested in Blenheim 
 Seminary.
 
 214 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 The opportunity was slow to present 
 itself, for Mary was ever so kind and 
 obliging, withal so faithful in the dis- 
 charge of her duties, it was not easy to 
 find entrance into her reputation. 
 
 But, one day. Miss Wallingford was 
 slightly ill, and required the aid of her 
 room-mate, which had always been cheer- 
 fully given. Miss Wallingford was touched 
 with gratitude at Mary's great kindness 
 on this occasion, and her feeling of envy 
 was fast giving place to a nobler one, 
 when, happening to remember her old 
 habit at home of dosing with wine, in 
 order, as she averred, to invigorate her 
 system, she asked Mary to procure her 
 some for her present use. 
 
 " Wine will do you no good," said 
 Mary.
 
 SEMINARY LIFE. 215 
 
 " Oh, yes, chum," said Miss Walling- 
 ford ; " I have taken oceans of the best 
 quality at home. You don't know what 
 you are talking of, when you say anything 
 against the proper use of wine." 
 
 " I know something about the effects 
 of it," replied Mary, " though never from 
 my own use of it. I would as soon take 
 poison myself." 
 
 " Well, then, get me some brandy, if 
 you object to wine," continued her room- 
 mate. 
 
 " That is even worse," replied Mary. 
 
 " What spirit do you choose, then ? " 
 asked Miss Wallingford. 
 
 " None," said Mary, emphatically. 
 
 " What ! not in case of sickness ? " 
 
 " There may be cases of disease," she 
 replied, " when certain spirits, prescribed
 
 216 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 by a careful physician, prove a benefit ; 
 but these, in my opinion, are very rare, 
 — much rarer than generally supposed. 
 I have known some of the worst cases of 
 inebriety to have been the result of a 
 habit of drinking liquor, first authorized 
 by a physician." 
 
 " But don't you suppose a doctor knows 
 better than you do ? " said Miss Walling- 
 ford, laughing derisively. 
 
 " I pretend to no superior wisdom," 
 Mary went on, " and I think thiit many 
 intelligent and conscientious physicians 
 would agree with me that the use of 
 liquor, even as a medicine, should be very 
 cautiously recommended. We are such 
 creatures of appetite and impulse, that 
 none can foretell the results of apparently 
 very harmless beginnings in the use of
 
 SEMINARY LIFE. 217 
 
 strong drink. In most cases, if these re- 
 sults could be foreseen in their startling 
 reality, the bane would be totally eschewed 
 from the first." 
 
 " I have taken a glass of wine before 
 going out to a party, or any such place, 
 many a time, to set me up when 1 have 
 felt down at the mouth," said Miss Wal- 
 lingford, " and it did me a world of good, 
 I assure you. Mother and I always 
 go to the closet for some sherry as soon 
 as ever we get into the house, after a long, 
 tedious morning of shopping, round town. 
 Sometimes, she prefers a little good gin, and 
 I some equally good Madeira. Oh ! I wish 
 I had some, now. The next time I go 
 home, I'll bring out a bottle of wine." 
 
 The bell having rang at this moment, 
 Mary went out to attend a recitation, and 
 
 19
 
 218 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 no more was said upon this subject that 
 day. On the following day, Miss Wal- 
 lingford was out among the girls, and 
 Mary occupied the room, for the most part, 
 alone, save during the inevitable evening 
 study-hours. 
 
 One of Mary's most congenial friends, 
 had been Ellen Rice, the daughter of a 
 physician, and, soon after this time, she 
 began to miss her accustomed calls to 
 walk with her in recreation hours. On 
 going to that young lady's room to see 
 if anything had happened, she was pained 
 to notice a slight change in her manner, 
 and she plead imperative engagements 
 which would prevent her from accompany- 
 ing Mary. Although she occasionally 
 called on Mary, after this, yet it was 
 evident that she was no longer the good
 
 SEMINARY LIFE. 219 
 
 and true friend she had formerly been. 
 A certain coldness and want of entire 
 confidence, however much she attempted 
 to conceal it, characterized her manner 
 towards Mary, which wounded her sensi- 
 tive spirit to the quick. 
 
 It was not long before Mary thought 
 she perceived a similar absence of cor- 
 diality in other of her former friends, but 
 as she was unaware of having given 
 occasion for this manifestation, and fear- 
 ing that she was becoming suspicious 
 without cause, she hastened to reassure 
 herself that affairs were really better than 
 at present they appeared. 
 
 The Literary Society connected with 
 the institution at this time, proposed to 
 hold a public meeting. As Mary had 
 been an efficient and valued member
 
 220 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 since her coming to Blenheim, she was 
 requested by the President to prepare a 
 colloquy, in which a number of the mem- 
 bers could appear on that occasion. After 
 some demur, Mary undertook the task. 
 When a short time had elapsed, it was 
 written and submitted to the committee of 
 the society. It was a scene illustrating 
 the evils of intemperance, and, being writ- 
 ten with much spirit and taste, was pro- 
 nounced exactly what they wanted. The 
 whole affair, however, as was customary, 
 was kept as secret as possible, save with 
 those directly connected with its repre- 
 sentation. When the evening arrived for 
 the exercises to come off, before a large 
 and intelligent audience, the temperance 
 colloquy excited considerable expectation, 
 as it had escaped among the people gen-
 
 SEMINARY LIPB. 221 
 
 erally, that this piece was strikingly origi- 
 nal and interesting. 
 
 Miss Wallingford now envied her 
 room-mate more than ever, and her hos- 
 tility was no longer disguised under the 
 thin veil of politeness. When she read 
 Mary's name upon the programme, as 
 the author of the colloquy, she exclaimed 
 scornfully to a group of her companions, 
 — " Well worthy Miss Frogalette Croaker, 
 who thinks all the wisdom of the sages 
 is boiled down into her own head." 
 
 " What kind of liquor would you call 
 it, then ? " asked another, who was listen- 
 ing with pleasure to Miss Wallingford' s 
 remarks ; " not spirituous, certainly ? " 
 
 " Sap, or the juice of liquorice," said 
 Miss Wallingford. 
 
 19*
 
 222 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 " Why, what makes you so caustic, 
 Belle," now asked one of the group. 
 
 " You would be caustic, if you had 
 roomed with Madam Frogalette as long 
 as I have. A more selfish person it has 
 never been my ill-fortune to encounter. 
 I asked her to go to the store to get me 
 something I particularly wanted, when I 
 was sick, one day, and, do you believe it, 
 she actually refused." 
 
 " Possible ! " "I could not have be- 
 lieved it ! " exclaimed several voices. 
 
 " She says a great deal in her Sunday 
 school class against the sin of selfishness," 
 now spoke up one who was a member 
 of the class, and who had hitherto re- 
 garded her teacher with much confidence 
 and afTection. 
 
 " I dare say," said Miss Wallingford,
 
 SEMINARY LIFE. 223 
 
 " as it is always the way with those who 
 talk the loudest, their private deeds are 
 the most contemptible." 
 
 " I shall not appear in her class any 
 more, for I will not lend my countenance 
 to deception," thought that young lady, 
 " and yet I have always loved her dearly," 
 came likewise into her reflection. 
 
 The audience being called to order, a 
 period was put to this conversation. The 
 innocent and unconscious object of these 
 poison-shafts of envy now appeared upon 
 the platform. Ah ! there was new food 
 for the insatiate foe ; for, lovely as Mary 
 ordinarily v/as, never had she appeared so 
 exquisitely charming as on this evening. 
 Her simple dress of white, without orna- 
 ment, was most befitting her classic style 
 of face, framed by a wealth of dark hair.
 
 224 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 which school-girls term " perfectly magnifi- 
 cent." Her eyes large, of a dark blue, and 
 somewhat sad, were the chief attraction 
 of her else beautiful person. These in- 
 dicated a pure, elevated, and consecrated 
 soul. 
 
 Her assignment was now the opening 
 address, which, being well written, and read 
 in an impressive, yet modest, and perfectly 
 womanly style, elicited unusual applause. 
 Several choice bouquets signalized her de- 
 parture from the platform. 
 
 On reaching the ante-room, one of these 
 arrested the notice of her companions, as 
 it contained some of the costliest flowers 
 of the season. 
 
 " Beautiful, exceedingly ! " cried a young 
 lady ; " and see, Mary, here is a note 
 hidden among the leaves I "
 
 SEMINARY LIFE. 225 
 
 Mary hurriedly opened the delicate 
 missive and read — " From friend Incog- 
 nito^ 
 
 " Is it possible that Mr. Alton is here ? " 
 she exclaimed to herself ; " I should not 
 have read with any repose, had I known 
 that he was among the audience to- 
 night." 
 
 S!ie soon recovered her usual tranquil- 
 lity of spirit, although occasional flashes 
 of curiosity, respecting the presence of 
 Mr. Alton, kindled the latent interest in 
 her heart. 
 
 When the colloquy came on, she re- 
 tired by a back passage communicating 
 from the building, and, borrowing a veiled 
 hat and shawl, entered among the audi- 
 ence, and made her way to a seat, wholly 
 unobserved and unrecognized. She wished
 
 226 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 to make observations from this position; 
 and also to hear the criticisms of some 
 of the auditors, which else might not 
 reach her ears. As the scenes went on, 
 every one seemed to sit almost breathless, 
 and it was observed that some of the per- 
 sons around her were affected even to 
 tears. In one of the pauses, two voices 
 of gentlemen in a seat just behind her own, 
 attracted her attention. 
 
 " Harry, there's truth in this bit of 
 literature. I wonder where the authoress 
 of it obtained her characters. You say 
 you have met her before ? " 
 
 " Yes ; but do you remember our old 
 college friend, Harmon? He died with 
 delirium tremens, last spring." 
 
 Mary started at the sound of this voice, 
 which she recognized as that of " Friend
 
 SEMINARY LIFE. 227 
 
 Incognito." Her first impulse was to look 
 around, and see of a truth that it was 
 really himself. But a second thought held 
 her motionless. 
 
 " Harmon was a splendid fellow, if it 
 hadn't been for drink. I was afflicted 
 when I heard of his death. How well I 
 remember of his urging you to drink 
 with us, and your inflexible No I " said 
 Alton's companion. 
 
 " I do not regret my negative. It saved 
 my life once." 
 
 " As how ? " 
 
 " When I was in Germany, I was sick 
 of a dangerous fever. FinaUy, they all 
 gave me up. I sunk lower and lower, and 
 my attendants pronounced me dead. ' Let 
 us pour some brandy down his throat,' 
 said the physician. At this, I made a des-
 
 228 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 perate effort to rally; the idea of being 
 choked to death did not agree with me. I 
 knew all that was going on ; but I could not 
 move to save my life. They got the brandy 
 and begun to force open my mouth, when 
 I roared out such a decided No, my doc- 
 tor dropped the liquor all over my face, 
 and" — 
 
 At this juncture a new scene of the col- 
 loquy commenced and the conversation 
 ceased. 
 
 By and by, the gentleman said to his 
 companion, " Alton, I begin to think you 
 know more about this young lady than you 
 choose to divulge." 
 
 " I wish you had kept your programme," 
 returned Alton ; " I want to see what these 
 scenes are ca^^.ed and how they come along." 
 
 Mary remembered her own crumpled
 
 SEMINARY LIFE. 229 
 
 programme in her pocket. She withdrew 
 it, and wrote thereon with a pencil. 
 
 " I'd like to catch a glimpse of her 
 again. Haven't seen her since I threw the 
 bouquet," now spoke Alton. 
 
 " Would she understand the incognito ? " 
 
 At this moment the scene closed ; Mary 
 rose from her seat, her face still closely- 
 covered with a brown veil. 
 
 " Madam," said Mr. Alton, reaching for- 
 ward, " will you oblige me by lending your 
 programme a moment ? " 
 
 Mary bowed slightly, and gave it to 
 him. She then passed out. 
 
 He took the sheet, and his eyes rested 
 directly upon a writing in pencil on the 
 blank space around the scenes of the 
 colloquy. He read, " The bouquet is 
 gratefully acknowledged by Incog-nita.''^ 
 
 20
 
 230 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 " Did you notice that lady who just 
 left the seat here in front of us ? " asked 
 Alton, hurriedly, of his companion. 
 
 " That horrid thing, in a stifling, umber- 
 colored veil ? " 
 
 " She could not have been horrid." 
 
 " Why not ? for she certainly was." 
 
 " That was the writer of this piece, — 
 Miss Winslow," said Alton. 
 
 " Possible ! " returned his companion. 
 " Let 's see, — did we say anything that 
 it would be awkward for us to have her 
 overhear ? " 
 
 " In return for my incognito, it appears 
 she was executing the incognita. I can 
 forgive her, however, since she has ren- 
 dered such good service to the cause of 
 temperance." 
 
 " Yes ; this little performance was a 
 capital thing."
 
 SEMINARY LIFE. 231 
 
 When the exercises of the evening were 
 concluded, Mr. Alton waited with his 
 friend, hoping to see Mary again. She 
 did not make her appearance, and, as it 
 was already a late hour, he was forced 
 to leave without the desired meeting. 
 He was stopping with an old college ac- 
 quaintance in the adjacent city, and hear- 
 ing of this public meeting of the Literary 
 Society, they had rode out. Previously 
 aware that Miss Winslow was a member 
 of this institution, this opportunity had 
 been gladly accepted by him. 
 
 On the following morning, a letter came 
 to Mary from her old friend, Mrs. Comfort, 
 requesting her to accompany the bearer 
 to a city some miles distant, and there 
 pass the coming Sabbath with Mrs. Com- 
 fort and her friends. Mary gladly obeyed
 
 232 THE EED :biiidge. 
 
 this summons, for her heart throbbed with 
 new pleasm*e at the prospect of again 
 beholding the face of her friend. 
 
 Mrs. Comfort had planned a little excur- 
 sion for that afternoon, which she thought 
 would prove pleasant and useful to Mary. 
 It was to make a visit of inspection to the 
 U. S. Armory. Ever thoughtful of the 
 pleasure of others, she had exerted herself 
 to effect arrangements so that Mary might 
 have this privilege. She met her young 
 friend with the same cheery laugh, which, 
 in the past, had so often lightened Mary's 
 heart. " I thought this bit of change 
 would do you no hurt, seeing that you 
 must be pretty well occupied out there at 
 the seminary," she said. 
 
 " How few persons," said Mary, " ever 
 think it worth the while to invite a teacher
 
 SEMINARY LIFE. 233 
 
 away from the dreary round of their op- 
 pressive cares I " 
 
 " I suppose," returned Mrs. Comfort, 
 with another of her expressive smiles, 
 "that most folks think that teachers 
 have such an easy and perfectly delight- 
 ful time in their own " 5/?ear," it is not best 
 to attempt to dispel their fond delusion. 
 I've heard some say, too, it was best to 
 keep teachers down, lest they should be 
 lifted up with a sense of their superiority." 
 
 "I only wish," said Mary, "that such 
 persons would exchange lives with a 
 teacher for just one month. Perhaps they 
 would think there was less danger of " — 
 
 " Taking an excursion on an elevator," 
 interrupted Mrs. Comfort. " Oh, well,'' 
 she continued, in a lighter tone, " every 
 place in life has its trials, and if it was 
 
 20*
 
 234 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 not for earth, as my father used to say, 
 we shouldn't know how to appreciate heav- 
 en. Then, let us make the best of every- 
 thing and love everybody, you know." 
 
 " I am happy to say," concluded Mary, 
 " that since I have been a teacher, I have 
 found some friends who are a most honor- 
 able exception to the majority of whom 
 we have been speaking. And if blessings 
 can descend upon those for whom we ask 
 them, from full and overflowing hearts, 
 surely plentiful will be their reward." 
 
 Of the numerous objects of interest, 
 ancient and modern, connected with the 
 armory, one building awakened Mary's 
 curiosity more than everything besides. 
 She was told by one of the attendants, 
 as she with her party approached, that 
 it was the place of deposit for the guns 
 used in the recent war.
 
 SEMINARY LIFE. 235 
 
 A powerful sensation stole over her 
 whole being, as a cloud passing before 
 the sun causes a shadow to fall across 
 the landscape, which, but a moment be- 
 fore, had been bright with the golden 
 rays of the mid-day sun. Memories of 
 her brother, — his words as she saw her 
 initials upon the breech of his gun, and 
 her last look upon his beloved form, 
 possessed her heart, so that she had 
 scarcely strength to go on within the 
 building. 
 
 " If he had only lived, " she reflected, 
 " I know he would have been a good man, 
 for my earnest, agonizing prayers to 
 Heaven, in his behalf, would have been 
 heard by Him, who can touch the soul 
 with the true, vitalizing power of refor- 
 mation." Striving to conceal her emotion,
 
 236 THE EED BRIDGE. 
 
 she entered that building with her friends, 
 though like one half in a dream. The 
 sight of the rusty, blood-stained muskets 
 and carbines, with the thought of the his- 
 tory which each would reveal, if it had a 
 voice accompanied with intelligence, was 
 enough to excite an imagination much 
 less highly-wrought than hers. On every 
 side she turned her eyes, there they were, 
 piled closely together, or standing in dense 
 files, like grim ghosts of the grimmest 
 episodes of a civil war, or like skeleton 
 sentinels of the long, bloody array of ap- 
 palling facts in the past, over which, like 
 herself, mothers, sisters, children, and friends 
 had wept blinding tears ! 
 
 " Dear William ! my brother ! would to 
 Heaven I had died for you ! " she cried, 
 in the desolate anguish of her spirit.
 
 SEMINARY LIFE. 237 
 
 Half falling down upon a step, she cov- 
 ered her face with her hands. 
 
 " Come, Mary," said Mrs. Comfort, " we 
 are going down into the basement to see 
 the old guns there. To be sure it is pretty 
 much what we have seen ; but then one 
 wants to explore all there is, you know." 
 
 " Excuse me, this time," replied Mary. 
 
 " Oh, no," she cried from below, having 
 now descended the stairs which led to the 
 cellar, " come down, and find for yourself 
 how delightfully cool it is here. It is so 
 warm everywhere else to-day, it will do 
 you good." 
 
 As Mary went down, a cold shiver, 
 almost like that of death, struck her frame. 
 The descent into a sepulchral vault would 
 hardly have impressed her more solemnly. 
 Through one of the open north windows
 
 238 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 a pale light came in sufficiently to make 
 the muskets in that direction distinctly- 
 visible. 
 
 " If the Peruvians," said a gentleman of 
 the party, " thought that gold was * the 
 tears wept by the sun,' we may well call 
 these guns the groans wnrung from mortal 
 anguish, grim despair, and a fierce sense 
 of underlying wrong." 
 
 Mary cast her eyes backward over a 
 dense mass, in the farther part of the 
 cellar, which was just enough enveloped 
 in the darkness to heighten the effect of 
 sublime mystery, which shrouded all that 
 place like a heavy paU of supernatural 
 gloom. A divine chord in her soul vibrated 
 in unison with the stillness, the indistinct- 
 ness, and the consciousness of these sur- 
 rounding memorials of war and carnage,
 
 SEMINARY LIFE. 239 
 
 SO that she saw what no other there 
 could perceive, and felt that of which 
 they had no conception. The past, with its 
 sad processions of sacrifice, or its yet sad- 
 der paeans of triumph, was there, dimly, but 
 w^ith a terrible earnestness, to confront and 
 sicken. The giief of comfortless hearts, 
 for the moment, was communicated to her 
 own. She trembled like a plant, smitten 
 with the chilled wind of uncongenial 
 skies. 
 
 " You have too much sensibility," said 
 Mrs. Comfort, passing her arm around 
 her, and gently leading her forward, near 
 the open window. 
 
 " See this gun," said one of the gentle- 
 men, taking one which lay a little de- 
 tached from the mass ; " it looks as though 
 it had known service. There's blood on
 
 240 THE RED BPtlDGE. 
 
 that breech ! And here are letters." He 
 took out his handkerchief and rubbed 
 them. 
 
 " M. W.," said he, slowly. 
 
 " Precious tokens of some loved one," 
 said one of the ladies. 
 
 While he had been doing this, Mary 
 had pressed forward, and eagerly strained 
 her eyes upon the gun and the letters on 
 the stock. No sooner were they pro- 
 nounced than she fell forwards, as if 
 lifeless. 
 
 All the ladies, except Mrs. Comfort, 
 were in consternation. Her form was 
 borne above stairs in a state of insensi- 
 bility. 
 
 When she was partially revived, she 
 murmured, at intervals : " O William ! 
 why did they not spare you ? Surely,
 
 SEMINAKT LIFE. 241 
 
 you would not have touched the fatal 
 cup again. A sister's tears and prayers 
 would have stood between you and ruin. 
 Dearest one ! speak to me once more ! " 
 
 It was the work of hours to restore 
 her sufficiently to be taken away. 
 
 Inquiries were afterwards made respect- 
 ing the circumstances of that gun being 
 found there ; but, as it was only one of a 
 vast multitude, nothing definite could be 
 ascertained. 
 
 21
 
 YIIL 
 
 FTER the public meeting of the 
 Literary Society, in which Mary's 
 success had been so brilliant and 
 decided, she found Miss Wallingford more 
 unamiable than ever ; and the few who 
 had evinced coldness towards her were now 
 gathering numbers daily. It soon reached 
 Mary's ears that several of this party, 
 among whom was Miss Wallingford, had 
 taken offence on listening to the temper- 
 ance colloquy, for the reason that they 
 believed it had personal allusions to them- 
 selves. One of the most prominent of 
 the pupils declared that she must have 
 
 (242)
 
 REVERSES. 243 
 
 intended to take her off, and she was 
 overheard to promise that Miss Winslow 
 should suifer as much as she had caused 
 her to suffer that evening, and since, 
 whenever she had thought of it. 
 
 Mary was deeply pained on learning 
 some of these accusations, and hastened 
 to visit the offended parties, and offer 
 them all the explanation in her power. 
 But the more she said, the more unrecon- 
 ciled they became. There was an im- 
 penetrable coldness in their manner ; their 
 faces were set against her, and nothing 
 that she could do or say had any effect to 
 mollify their asperity. Had she been less 
 gifted, and less conspicuous in her success, 
 all this would have been passed over as 
 of little consideration. But now they 
 were determined that she should pay dearly 
 for her superiority.
 
 244 THE KED BRIDGE. 
 
 Miss Wallingford having desired the 
 Principal, Mrs. Harrison, to assign her 
 another room, as she no longer wished 
 to room with Miss Winslow, one of the 
 youngest and most uncongenial pupils 
 was placed with Mary. This, she felt 
 was not only unpleasant, but disrespect- 
 ful, yet her sense of dependence forbade 
 her remonstrance. The effect of these 
 unpleasant occurrences was to renew her 
 zeal in acquiring proficiency in her studies, 
 so that her progress continued decidedly 
 in advance of all her classmates. 
 
 It was now the close of the second term 
 of the school year. There was an undis- 
 puted prospect of the highest honors of 
 the senior class falling to Mary. As this 
 class was more numerous than any pre- 
 ceding one, it would be a success of more
 
 REVERSES. 245 
 
 than ordinary attraction. And this would 
 also strengthen her claim to the much- 
 coveted position of instructor, she reflect- 
 ed with much satisfaction. 
 
 The present vacation was to be a short 
 one, and Mary resolved to improve it by 
 recruiting her overtasked energies. Her 
 room-mate had gone home; relief from 
 daily, irksome restraint was intensely de- 
 lightful, and she planned the accomplish- 
 ment of not only neglected duties, but a 
 few simple enjoyments, one of which 
 was the setting in order her plants which 
 reminded her of the dear old home in 
 Blendale. 
 
 " Then like a bow long forced into a curve, 
 The mind, released from too constrained a nerve, 
 Flew to its first position with a spring." 
 
 It was the second evening of the vaca- 
 
 21*
 
 246 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 tion. Mary was sitting in her room, look- 
 ing over some old letters which her father 
 had written her when she was scarcely 
 more than a child, away at school, when 
 her eyes fell upon this sentence, penned 
 by the beloved hand now mouldered to 
 dust : — " My dear child, it is by trials 
 we ever attain true success. This is the 
 inexorable law of our being. Therefore, 
 when they come to you, remember, how- 
 ever sharp and strong they seem, they 
 are a part of the divine plan, whereby, in 
 infinite mercy, you may conquer." 
 
 " I did not understand these words, 
 when I first read them, nor yet fully years 
 after," she thought ; " but now, it must be 
 I have some adequate idea of their real 
 spirit and significance." 
 
 A knock upon her door interrupted her
 
 REVERSES. 247 
 
 reflections. A message had come from 
 Mrs. Han'ison, requesting her to go to 
 that lady's room. She obeyed with a glad 
 heart, for, conscious of her recent success 
 as both teacher and pupil, she thought 
 that the interview must be unusually 
 pleasant. " Perhaps," she reflected quickly, 
 " she is going to make an arrangement, • 
 so that I shall be allowed a little com- 
 pensation next term, in order to defray 
 the increased expenses attending my grad- 
 uation." 
 
 On entering Mrs. Harrison's room, she 
 was motioned to a seat, and some minutes 
 elapsed before the business in hand was 
 communicated. That lady seemed much 
 preoccupied with the examination of some 
 papers which lay on the desk before her. 
 At length, raising her eyes, while they
 
 248 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 continued partially averted from Mary, 
 she said, " I regret that I have unpleasant 
 news for you. Miss Winslow." 
 
 Mary started, and a cold chill struck 
 her heart, for, so many unexpected shocks 
 had already been her portion, she knew 
 what these words portended more than 
 one without experience could have fore- 
 seen. 
 
 " And yet," she quickly thought, " as 
 Mrs. Harrison sometimes indulges in a 
 little facetiousness, it is possible she takes 
 this way to announce exactly the con- 
 trary of what her words signify." 
 
 " It seems," continued Mrs. Harrison, 
 now turning her eyes fuUy upon Mary, 
 '' that we shall be obliged to dispense with 
 your services here." 
 
 Mary could hardly believe that she
 
 REVEKSES. 249 
 
 heard aright. A weight, like ice, fell upon 
 her spirit, so that she sat motionless with- 
 out saying a word. 
 
 " Complaints have recently been brought 
 to me, from some of my best patrons, 
 against you, so that it will be for the 
 good of the school, and for aU parties 
 concerned, to have our present connec- 
 tion cease at this time," continued Mrs. 
 Harrison. 
 
 " Complaints against me ! " Mary now 
 found voice to say, while the expression 
 of her countenance affected Mrs. Har- 
 rison, despite aU her efforts to preserve 
 entire composure. The bruised reed 
 withered suddenly beneath this libation 
 of nitre. That powerful acid which has 
 a solvent power over gold, the king of 
 the metals, and hence derives its name
 
 250 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 of aqua re^ia^ finds its parallel in the 
 sudden announcement of bitter import 
 to a sensitive and superior nature. The 
 imperial waters of affliction, when held to 
 the wan and rigid lips, have a taste 
 of the olden words heard by the stricken 
 ones in the garden, — "In sorrow shalt 
 thou eat of it all the days of thy life." 
 
 " Yes," replied the lady, " I am exceed- 
 ingly sorry to learn that you have caused 
 disaffection among many of our ladies. 
 The course you have taken here respect- 
 ing temperance, though doubtless well 
 intended, shows an error in judgment 
 which is irreparable." 
 
 " This surprises me," returned Mary, 
 " for I am not aware of any such intention. 
 I thought I had used unusual caution, and 
 I wondered when some of the young
 
 REVERSES. 251 
 
 ladies seemed to take offence at the 
 colloquy." 
 
 "Before that," said Mis. Harrison, -it 
 appears that you were imprudent in 
 your observations. — so much so as to 
 wound your room-mate and Miss Kice, 
 with some others, who had been yoinr 
 warm friends.'' 
 
 " IVIiss Rice I "' exclaimed ]\Iarv, " there 
 must be some mistake, for I certainly 
 never exchanged a vs'ord with her upon 
 ami:hing which had any relation to that 
 subject" 
 
 " You have forgotten," obser^-ed Airs. 
 Harrison, waving her hand, impatiently; 
 "for Miss Rice is a lady who would not 
 be guilty of falsehood.'' 
 
 " Did she tell you this ? ** inquired 
 ISIary.
 
 252 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 " It is unnecessary for me to relate to 
 you all the details of this unpleasant 
 affair, Miss Winslow, but I have author- 
 ity when I say that you have offended 
 Miss Rice, in some observations respect- 
 ing physicians prescribing ardent spirits 
 for medicine." 
 
 Mary remembered her conversation 
 with Miss Wallingford, and she could 
 now account for her former friend's cold- 
 ness. She related the circumstances to 
 Mrs. Harrison, who listened, apparently 
 unmoved. 
 
 " It appears, likewise," continued that 
 lady, " that some of the characters and 
 scenes in your colloquy were taken, by a 
 number of persons present, as most inex- 
 cusably personal." 
 
 " I intended to represent nothing but
 
 REVERSES. 253 
 
 what T had learned before coming to 
 Blenheim," replied Mary, " and regret to 
 find," she added, with a touch of asperity 
 in her tone, " that the coat, so innocently 
 shapen, proved a fit to any person here, 
 and especially to any of my own sex. If 
 they had not acknowledged the fact, I 
 should not have suspected it. The course 
 they have taken towards me not only 
 illustrates their guilt, but their unquali- 
 fied meanness and inferiority of soul." 
 
 " This is not an occasion for recrimi- 
 nating remarks on your part," said Mrs. 
 Harrison, " for I cannot allow aspersions 
 to be cast upon some of my most liberal 
 and respectable patrons, I may call them. 
 They are offended so as to threaten to 
 leave the school if you do not withdraw, 
 and you see what is my only alternative." 
 
 22
 
 254 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 " Have I not been a faithful teacher 
 since my stay here ? " asked Mary, with 
 renewed feeling. 
 
 " You have done very well in your 
 classes," said Mrs. Harrison, coldly. 
 
 " I must be allowed to say," continued 
 Mary, after a painful silence, " that this 
 seems very hard to me. Without a 
 home, without friends, no prospect be- 
 fore me — when I had planned to stay 
 here and graduate, and then " — 
 
 Her voice failed. 
 
 " You should cultivate self-control. 
 Miss Winslow; though, when the first 
 ebullition of feeling has passed, you will, 
 doubtless, resume your accustomed serene 
 manner, which, I must say, I have al- 
 ways regarded as highly creditable to 
 you."
 
 REVERSES. ■ 255 
 
 " It is now so late in the season, it will 
 be impossible for me to secure another 
 situation where I can teach, and you are 
 already aware of my narrow circum- 
 stances," said Mary. 
 
 " I know it would have been better 
 for you to have known this before," said 
 ]\Irs. Harrison, " but I thought, to avoid 
 any unpleasant excitement, it would be 
 most expedient to inform you after the 
 term had concluded. Last year, when 
 one of our teachers was going to leave, 
 there was so much confusion in getting 
 up a presentation for her, I deemed the 
 most quiet course, in your case, the best 
 for all parties." 
 
 Mary looked at Mrs. Harrison steadily 
 for a moment, as if to convince herself 
 that she was not mistaken in her identity, 
 then said, —
 
 256 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 " May the time never come to you or 
 to any of yours, madam, when words 
 will smite your heart, as yours, this even- 
 ing, have smitten mine." 
 
 " You had better retire now,'' said Mrs. 
 Harrison, turning white about her lips, 
 " and you need not leave here for two 
 or three days, if you do not find it con- 
 venient before. Good-eveaing." 
 
 She turned her back and resumed the 
 examination of her papers. 
 
 When Mary had returned to her room, 
 the great disappointment which had 
 come to her seemed weU-nigh over- 
 whelming. But to the child of God there 
 is a present help in time of trouble. 
 
 The moonlight, which streamed into 
 her window, fell over her form as she 
 knelt there in her Woe and desolation,
 
 REVERSES. 257 
 
 and poured out her soul in prayer to God 
 — yea, the orphan's God ! " My help 
 Cometh from the Lord, which made heav- 
 en and earth," she cried in the language 
 of the Psalmist, " He shall preserve thy 
 going out and thy coming in from this 
 time forth, and even for evermore." 
 
 For hours of that night she remained 
 in silent communion with her heavenly 
 Father, the Keeper of Israel, who " neither 
 slumbers nor sleeps." 
 
 At last there came to her mind a part 
 of an old hymn, which was a favorite one 
 with her father : — 
 
 And manages our small affairs ; 
 On humble souls the King of kings 
 Bestows his counsels and his cares. 
 
 ' Our son-ows and our tears we pour 
 Into the bosom of our God ; 
 22*
 
 258 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 He hears us in the mournful hour, 
 And helps us bear the heavy load." 
 
 She was partially comforted. Hope 
 sprung anew in her fainting soul, for she 
 believed that her present affliction was 
 permitted by One whose eye was on 
 her lot, and who would cause all these 
 things to work together for her good. 
 
 K the prophet Daniel, in the gardens 
 of the palace of Susa and on the banks 
 of the Ulai^ saw visions which clearly 
 foreshadowed the career of Alexander, how 
 much more do the angels of these little 
 ones, beholding the face of their Father, 
 contemplate the divine plan^ and al- 
 though in its devious windings it may 
 display a strange conjunction with seem- 
 ing evil, they comprehend all, but to won- 
 der, love, and praise I
 
 REVERSES. 259 
 
 " Truly," may the devout heart exclaim, 
 " the Lord is good and his mercy en- 
 dure th forever, to such as keep his cove- 
 nant and love his testimonies." 
 
 " I wonder how she feels now," reflected 
 her enemies, as they sat in thek homes 
 among their loved ones, — " for by this 
 time she knows she has got to go away 
 from Blenheim. I guess she will conclude 
 that we are as smart and powerful as she 
 is." 
 
 The triumph experienced by evil and 
 ignoble minds in the result of successful 
 envy and base revenge constitutes the 
 keenest joy of their existence ; but, as it 
 is the nature of all sinful passions to soon 
 consume themselves with their own fires, 
 leaving only the ashes of satisfaction, such 
 triumph is short. Godlike passions, alone
 
 260 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 possess the power of perpetual life and 
 delight. Love, forgiveness, mercy have 
 the divine element of immortal good. 
 
 If any one is disposed to doubt this, 
 let him open the soul to the free entrance 
 of these angel-virtues ; and this, not alone 
 in beautiful theory, but in the practical 
 result of a bitter experience of wrong ; — 
 then shall he understand that the richest 
 and most profitable of aU the good and 
 perfect gifts which come from the Father 
 of lights, is even that embodied in the 
 unequaled words, " Forgive them, for they 
 know not what they do." 
 
 Mary had many friends, but none to 
 whom she felt at liberty to apply for ad- 
 vice in this emergency, but Mrs. Comfort. 
 As in the great Prototype of sorrow, it may 
 be written of most persons in their conduct
 
 REVERSES. 261 
 
 towards the one who is suddenly over- 
 taken by calamity, — " they all forsook him 
 and fled." Some souls "stand aloof to 
 see what will come of it;" if anything 
 transpires to render the side of the suf- 
 ferer popular, they are loud in their as- 
 sertions of favorable regard; but if, on 
 the contrary, the tide of fortune appears 
 to bring up a continued augury of ill, 
 
 — " they always thought so," — and are 
 careful to pass by on the other side, on 
 the principle that " self-preservation is the 
 first law of nature." 
 
 Mis. Comfort, however, was in no wise 
 of this ilk. Afraid to defend the cause 
 of the innocent and meritorious, however 
 temporarily overshadowed by dark clouds ? 
 
 — it was not in her thought, far less in 
 her practice ! She rather gloried in tribu-
 
 262 THE BED BRIDGE. 
 
 lations both for herself and her best friends. 
 They offered new scope for the exercise 
 of her fertile invention, which could make 
 the most and the best of difficulties ; and 
 never was her cheery laugh heard to ring 
 "like the true metal" as when she found 
 herself, as she expressed it, "in a strait 
 betwixt two evils, — one on each side." 
 
 She therefore lost no time in replying 
 to Mary's note, which stated her difficul- 
 ties, as follows : — 
 
 " My deab Gibl, — 
 
 " It is an ill-wind that blows nobody 
 any good, as my father used to say. Can't 
 you see that it is all for the best, which 
 has happened to you at Blenheim ? Your 
 heavenly Father has something better for 
 you to do than to stay there any longer,
 
 EEVERSES. 263 
 
 submitting to so much unpleasant drudg- 
 ery, and so he pulls you out, although 
 it goes hard to your present feelings. 
 What your enemies meant for your evil 
 will turn out for your good, and this, I dare 
 say, in no ordinary degree. There are 
 always times when the spirit of evil ap- 
 pears to get the upper hand ; so that, as I 
 used to read in my old Spectator, — 
 
 " ' The cloves are censured, while the crows are spared.' 
 
 " The first thing you had better do, is 
 to pack up all your things ; don^t leave 
 so much as a pin behind, and come righ' 
 here where I live as soon as ever the 
 cars will bring you. ^ If they persecute 
 you in one city, flee to another, and shake 
 off the dust from your feet as a testimony 
 against them.'
 
 264 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 " I met that young committee-man again, 
 that I saw in the coach when I was on 
 my way to visit your school last year. It 
 was at a friend's in the city. His name 
 is Alton, I believe. He, with the son of 
 my old friend, had been out to attend 
 some public affair at Blenheim, a few 
 days before. He spoke of you, and when 
 he found that I knew all about you, he 
 asked me forty-eleven questions, or less. 
 The reason he gave was that he wished 
 to engage a teacher to assist in the High 
 School in his place of residence, and 
 thought you would be just the one. I 
 told him I thought it would be of no use 
 to ask you now to go, as you intended to 
 remain where you were and graduate. 
 
 " He said he had called to see you on 
 the day following that evening ; but your
 
 REVERSES. 265 
 
 room-mate had told him that you had gone 
 away. 
 
 " I think it would be well for you to 
 wi'ite to this Mr. Alton now, and let him 
 know that you would like the situation. 
 I hope it will not be too late. 
 
 " Whatever shall come, keep up a good 
 heart, and a stiff elbow. 
 " In haste, 
 
 " Yours, in all lands of weather, 
 " Hannah Comfort." 
 
 Mary received this welcome letter with 
 a glad heart, and lost no time in address- 
 ing Mr. Alton, respecting the school. 
 Having formally applied for the situation, 
 she stated that necessity compelled her to 
 engage in teaching as soon as possible, 
 so that if this place was lost to her, she 
 
 23
 
 266 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 would be glad to secure one of the district 
 schools in his town, adding a hope that 
 it would not prove too late in the season 
 for her success. 
 
 Mary took her departure from Blenheim 
 amid the tearful benedictions and regrets 
 of all the domestics of the establishment. 
 
 " What can have happened to send such 
 a lovely young lady away from here ! " 
 cried one to another. " Never the likes of 
 her shall these eyes see again," exclaimed 
 the Irish cook. " Beautiful creature ! 
 may the saints in heaven defend her from 
 all the harm in this life, and bring her 
 safe to dwell in heaven at last." 
 
 These words from her humble friends 
 were not a slight consolation to her wound- 
 ed spirit. 
 
 Mrs. Comfort was now engaged in tak-
 
 REVERSES. 267 
 
 ing a few select boarders, as a means of 
 obtaining a livelihood, and as she was far 
 from being bountifully furnished with 
 provision for a subsistence in her declin- 
 ing years, Mary keenly realized the extent 
 of her rare kindness, in this act of her 
 hospitality. It was her frequent prayer 
 that the time might come when she could 
 repay her benevolent fi'iend. She could 
 ill conceal her anxiety to hear from her 
 application to IVIr. Alton, and it seemed 
 that she would become a victim to a fit 
 of illness, so intense was her suspense at 
 this time. 
 
 " It isn't time yet for a reply to yom* 
 letter till to-morrow at the earliest," said 
 Mrs. Comfort ; " and my advice to you is 
 to take aU the peace and pleasure you can 
 while you are here."
 
 268 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 " But I feel that I am such a burden to 
 you," said Mary. 
 
 "Fiddlesticks!" cried Mrs. Comfort, 
 " I've not yet got so old that a grasshopper 
 is a burden, as the Scripture says. It 
 seems right good to have you with me. 
 Since my daughters married and went 
 away, I miss their society very much, and 
 you are next to them in my heart. Now 
 I think of it, I don't know what I should 
 have done these days, if you hadn't been 
 here to cheer me up." 
 
 " A letter for you, miss," said the car- 
 rier, the following morning. 
 
 Mary took it with trembling fingers, 
 while the color quickly forsook her face. 
 She recognized the handwriting, at a 
 glance. The much wished-for intelli- 
 gence was now about to come. Would
 
 REVERSES. 269 
 
 it be favorable or otherwise? So much 
 was depending for her, she had hardly 
 strength to open it. She read : — 
 
 " HiGHBRiDGE, April 5th, 186-. 
 
 "Miss Winslow: — 
 
 " Dear Friend, — for such may I ven- 
 ture to call you ? 
 
 " Yours of the 3d inst. is received and 
 its contents noticed. Allow me to in- 
 form you that the vacancy in our High 
 School has just been filled. All the dis- 
 tricts, so far as I can learn, have already 
 engaged their teachers" 
 
 Mary saw that other words were writ- 
 ten, but a mist came before her eyes ; 
 the letters swam in darkness. 
 
 « Why, Mary ! what's the matter ? Are 
 you going to faint away?" cried Mrs. 
 
 23*
 
 270 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 Comfort, who sat attentively watching 
 her countenance. 
 
 When Mary recovered her conscious- 
 ness, she found herself lying on a lounge 
 in Mrs. Comfort's own room, while that 
 lady sat beside her, laughing so immod 
 erately, Mary scarcely knew whether to 
 be astonished or grieved. 
 
 " Dreadful strange things come to pass 
 when we least expect them ! " said Mrs. 
 Comfort, bestirring herself to induce Mary 
 to take another draft of the peppermint- 
 tea which her maid had brought. 
 
 " Mrs. Comfort ! how can you find a 
 heart to make light of my misfortune, 
 though you are so cheerful generally ! " 
 said Mary, now yielding to a gush of 
 tears for the first time since she had 
 been called to this series of trouble.
 
 REVERSES. 271 
 
 " Do you know," she sobbed, " that he 
 offers me no prospect of a situation ? " 
 
 " As soon as I saw that you were 
 coming-to in Bridget's arms, I took up 
 the terrible letter and hastily ran over its 
 contents. You did not read far enough, 
 child." 
 
 Another laugh, accompanied by a queer 
 look of satisfaction, caused Mary to in- 
 quire if he had mentioned any other 
 place where a situation was obtainable? 
 
 " He has made you an offer of some- 
 thing better than a school," said Mrs. 
 Comfort, handing her the letter. 
 
 " What can it be ? " asked Mary. 
 
 " Read for yourself, now, and forgive 
 me for getting the news first," replied 
 Mi's. Comfort. 
 
 Yes, it was true ; something better than
 
 272 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 a school was offered to Mary in that let- 
 ter, — even the heart, the hand, the home 
 of Harry Alton. It seemed that he, too, 
 was an orphan, without brother or sister, 
 but with an inheritance, which the people 
 of Highbridge used to call "as rich as 
 a Jewj" she remembered. His home was 
 that mansion on the hill overlooking the 
 village, towards which she had sometimes 
 cast her eyes, on wending her way to 
 church, when she taught the lonely dis- 
 trict school, and thought the owner must 
 indeed have cause for gratitude. And, 
 as she saw him among the people of 
 God when they observed the sacrament 
 of the Lord's Supper, she said in her 
 heart, that the crown of his good fortune, 
 was his fidelity to goodness and truth. 
 Now, in the hour of her utter ex-
 
 REVERSES. 273 
 
 tremity, all this, with the pure and 
 noble heart in unison with her own con- 
 cerning those interests so dear to her, was 
 laid at her disposal, in language so deli- 
 cate and considerate of her feelings, noth- 
 ing more could be desired. Was she not 
 dreaming? There were the words before 
 her, and there, too, was Mrs. Comfort 
 with such a cheery face, no words can 
 do it the least shadow of justice. 
 
 " What do you think now, Mary ? Does 
 God desert thOse who put their trust in 
 him ? Is he not even better than his 
 most excellent word ? " she said. 
 
 " When my husband died in the midst 
 of a prosperous people, who seemed to 
 think everything of him as their pastor, 
 and left me with young children, it did 
 seem rather dark to me. We w^ere poor.
 
 274 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 and my health was quite miserable then. 
 But I was enabled to hope and toil on. 
 My boy, on whom I depended to see me 
 through in my old age, was taken next. 
 One after another they were called home, 
 — all but my two youngest daughters, the 
 last of whom was married last year to 
 a minister. I have a great deal to be 
 thankful for, and I've made it the rule 
 of my life to make the best of every- 
 thing, and to love everybody, so far as I 
 could. But it's been dreadful hard work 
 sometimes." 
 
 Mary had many things in her over- 
 flowing heart which she would have said 
 to Mrs. Comfort, in this moment; but 
 she durst not trust her voice to speak. 
 
 She covered her face with her hands, 
 and silently prayed.
 
 IX. 
 
 fT was one of the coldest mornings 
 ^ of the cold winter succeeding the 
 ^ events of the last chapter, that Mary 
 bade good-morning to her husband as he 
 started for his office, 
 
 " It is going to be a stormy day,*' he 
 said, ^' and you, with Mrs. Comfort, must 
 see to it that Margaret keeps the house 
 warm, and especially the conservatory, so 
 that the plants do not freeze." 
 
 " I wouldn't have the three, that Mary 
 used to keep at Blenheim, freeze, for the 
 price of a term's tuition there," said Mrs. 
 Comfort, laughing. 
 
 (275)
 
 276 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 " No ; they must be nursed to keep 
 her memory green," replied Mr. Alton. 
 
 " Be careful that you yourself don't 
 freeze to-day on the street," said Mary, 
 as she closed the door behind him. 
 
 She went to the window to look after 
 him, as he made his way amid the hur- 
 rying clouds of snow which flew around 
 his slippery pathway. 
 
 " It is a dreadful day," said Mary, " and 
 how glad I am, my dear Mrs. Comfort, 
 that you came to live with us before this 
 severe weather." 
 
 " And I, too, am glad, I guess, to get 
 rid of keeping house for myself this cold 
 winter of high prices. But, Mary, what 
 put it into your head to send for me just 
 the time of all others when it did me 
 most good to come ? " said Mrs. Comfort.
 
 THE BOTTLED MANUSCRIPT. 277 
 
 " The same good spirit who directed 
 you to be so kind to me, when I most 
 requii'ed your aid and comfort. ' What- 
 soever measure ye mete, it shall be meas- 
 ured to you again,' " was Mary's reply. 
 
 Mrs. Comfort's eyes filled with tears. 
 
 " It is the first time I ever saw you look 
 in that way," said Mary ; " it is my turn, 
 now, to administer joy and consolation to 
 you. While I have a home, be assured, 
 my good friend, you shall never want that 
 blessing. You have come here now, Provi- 
 dence permitting, to spend the remainder 
 of your days. You may go out on visits 
 to your relatives and friends whenever 
 you so please, but here is to be your 
 abode, the sanctuary of yom- home-loves 
 and interests." 
 
 " But come here to the window," con- 
 
 24
 
 278 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 tinned Mary, in another tone, for she per- 
 ceived that Mrs. Comfort was much affect- 
 ed. " See how the snow wreaths itself 
 around the head of that poor, struggling 
 traveler. He looks almost exhausted in 
 his combat with the storm. His long 
 white hair blowing in the blast about his 
 haggard face gives him the appearance of 
 some genius of the storm such as I have 
 seen in pictures of winter. His clothes are 
 so poor and scanty, the cold must pene- 
 trate even to his very life. He is coming 
 into our avenue." 
 
 At this moment a tap on the door of the 
 parlor was succeeded by the appearance of 
 Margaret, the Irish serving-maid. 
 
 '* An sure, ma'am, there's a baste of a 
 villainous thafe a-coming in, an shan't I 
 be afther a-lockin' all the doors ? " she 
 asked, excitedly.
 
 THE BOTTLED MANUSCRIPT. 279 
 
 " He is suffering from the cold, I pre- 
 sume." said Mary, " and we must not turn 
 him away, especially such a day as this, 
 until he is warmed and fed." 
 
 INIargaret went away, muttering about 
 the dangerous thafe, yet with enough good 
 humor remaining to cause her to go to the 
 door and admit the stranger to her kitchen 
 fire. 
 
 " I must go out and see how Margaret 
 comes on with her guest," said Mary to 
 Mrs. Comfort, a few minutes after. 
 
 Mary found the man trembling violent- 
 ly, while his ungloved hands which ap- 
 peared unusually delicate, were extended 
 towards the stove. His head was bowed 
 down and he seemed to be talking in a 
 low tone to himself. For a time she 
 could not distinguish what he said, but
 
 280 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 she addressed him, when he seemed suf- 
 ficiently composed. 
 
 " You found it very cold walking this 
 morning. I hope you have not far to go ? " 
 
 " Tor as when merchants break, o'erthrown 
 Like ninepins, they strike others down,' 
 
 were the words of the poet. Madam, you 
 have heard of the poet ? Well, he knew 
 how a man felt when he was struck 
 down." 
 
 At the sound of his full voice, Mary 
 started. There was a familiar tone which 
 fell upon her ears. Whose was it like ? 
 But, as he remained with his head down, so 
 that his face was nearly concealed by his 
 slouched hat, she could only conjecture the 
 stamp of the man whose words were so 
 unusual.
 
 THE BOTTLED MANUSCRIPT. 281 
 
 " He is clane daft," whispered Margaret, 
 " for sure if he wasn't beside hisself, he'd 
 niver be after talkin' the likes o' that, 
 ma'am." 
 
 " Wont you have something warm to 
 take, — some ginger tea ? " now asked 
 Mary. 
 
 " Something to drink ? Ah ! woman 
 of the delicate brow, you don't know 
 what you say. Something to drink has 
 brought me where you see me now." 
 
 He had lifted his eyes fuUy upon hers, 
 so that she could see his face. 
 
 " I am what I was not. I am poor, 
 perishing, wretched. I was once rich, 
 munificent, flourishing, joyous. It doesn't 
 take long for liquor to bring a man where 
 you see me to-day, without a home or 
 
 24*
 
 282 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 friends. But my home was once better 
 than yours." 
 
 " I know it," replied Mary, in a calm 
 voice, though her heart was ready to cry 
 out in its surprise and grief. She saw 
 that the poor wayfarer was crazed, and 
 she wished for time to reflect on what 
 course it was best to pursue. He was 
 recognized. It was her old guardian, 
 even Gilbert Jameson! But it must not 
 be known, at least by her serving-maid. 
 
 ''Where is your home now?" she in- 
 quired. 
 
 " A certain passenger at sea," says the 
 old fable, " had the curiosity to ask the 
 pilot of the vessel what part of the world 
 he called his home ? Replied the pilot, — 
 ' 'Tis where the angel in the Revelations 
 was, — one foot on the land, the other on
 
 THE BOTTLED MANUSCRIPT. 283 
 
 the sea.' Thus, madam, is it with me. I, 
 B flat, live at C sharp, and L long, reversed." 
 
 Every other question which Mary asked, 
 in order to learn something of his present 
 history, was answered in a similar style. 
 
 He did not seem to know her ; and of 
 this she was glad. 
 
 At last he asked for a cup with a little 
 water, which being given him, he with- 
 drew a bottle from his pocket, and pour- 
 ing out some whiskey, mixed it with the 
 water. Half afraid to remonstrate with 
 a man out of his senses, Mary hesitated 
 to speak the words which trembled upon 
 her tongue. But when she saw him pre- 
 pare to drink it off, and remembered the 
 fearful night when she had watched him 
 in a fit of delirium tremens, she felt that 
 something might now be ventured.
 
 284 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 With prayer to God for strength in 
 her heart, she fixed her eye steadily upon 
 his, and said, in a decided voice, — 
 
 " Sir ! hear me now a moment. It was 
 but a few years since you were a gentle- 
 man with those about you who looked up 
 to you with regard. Strong drink has 
 brought you where you now are." 
 
 " But I lost all my property by being 
 bound," he interrupted. 
 
 " Had you not drank so as to have im- 
 paired your judgment, you would not 
 have been bound to such a ruinous 
 extent." 
 
 "How know you that?" 
 
 " I know it, and you know it. Now, 
 why will you continue to take the poison 
 which has reduced you to this ? Why 
 not stop right where you are, and try and
 
 THE BOTTLED MANUSCRIPT. 285 
 
 redeem that you have lost? There is 
 hope even at the eleventh hour!" 
 
 " Woman, you talk well," he replied, 
 " but you are not so old as you will be 
 if you live long enough. The die is cast. 
 I sink lower and lower every day of my 
 life. I can no longer swim. Not many 
 more days of wretchedness remain for 
 me. So long have I indulged in this 
 habit, which I allow is the ruin of him 
 who once weU fixes it in his soul, I can- 
 not turn about now. There is a snake 
 gnawing at my vitals every moment, and 
 the only way I can keep him firom eating 
 through to the seat of life is to Kquor 
 him every hour. But, for aU that, he gains 
 on me. He will kill me before long. Yes, 
 I must drink or die." 
 
 And he poured down the liquor with-
 
 286 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 out stopping for a respiration, so eager 
 was he for the fatal draught of slow 
 poison. 
 
 '' Let me go to your stable and lie on 
 the hay," he said, when the fumes of the 
 liquor began to steal to his brain. " It is 
 cold, I know, but I feel warm now. The 
 fire within me burns on through summer's 
 heat and winter's cold. The sky overhead 
 is wrathful to-day. My head is now bound 
 with what Humboldt calls — do you hear, 
 lady ? — ' differently inflected isothermal 
 
 " Sure ma'am, isn't yees afeard of a 
 crater likes o' that ? " said Margaret, in a 
 low voice. But Mary only sighed in re- 
 ply. She remembered there was a lounge 
 in the warm conservatory, and thither she 
 told him to go and sleep for a while. She
 
 THE BOTTLED MANUSCRIPT. 287 
 
 could not assign him who had once given her 
 a good home, to the place which he asked. 
 
 " An' it's mighty quare that mistress 
 takes so much care of the puir drinkin' 
 crater," said Margaret. 
 
 " "Why Mary ! " exclaimed Mrs. Com- 
 fort, " How dare you trust a stray fellow 
 out of his head, in a place like that ! " 
 
 " Have you not often said that we 
 should make the best of everything and 
 love everybody ? " replied Mary. 
 
 When, a short time after, she opened 
 the glass door and looked in upon him, 
 he was soundly asleep. Picture of wretch- 
 edness ! There he lay with his hat un- 
 der his head, his finely-shaped brow nearly 
 concealed with his uncombed, slTagghng 
 locks of gray hair, his coat old and torn, 
 — but his face, — Oh! the expression of
 
 288 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 the sleeping drunkard ! What pencil, save 
 that which was dipped in the lurid hues 
 of an anaconda's blood, could ever do ifc 
 justice ! The angel of the apocalypse who 
 poured out his vial to scorch men with 
 fire, had passed by and overshadowed 
 him with his fearful plague. Unrest, de- 
 spair, with a gnawing consciousness of 
 the nobler destiny which might have been 
 his own, are chiselled with deep furrows 
 and hideous angles upon his pountenance, 
 while the spots of the leprous taint of sin 
 heighten the woful effect. 
 
 " Oh ye who think that a draught of 
 good liquor is what is right and pleasant, 
 now and then," exclaimed Mary to her- 
 self, " and ye who drink with the dinner 
 because it is in becoming style with your 
 rank, and ye who laugh at the warnings
 
 THE BOTTLED MANUSCRIPT. 289' 
 
 against the cheering dram when tired and 
 dispirited, — all ye who deem abstinence 
 from liquor a mild delusion of certain in- 
 feriorly-constituted minds, — would that ye 
 could come now and behold this picture, — 
 no! this living reality which I now see, 
 — this great and terrible blot upon the else 
 fair scene around me I 
 
 " Here, amidst these luxuriant plants 
 and fragrant, delicate flowers, which bend 
 gracefully beneath their burdens of waxen 
 beauty or roseate glow like the hearts of 
 the fairest sea-shells ; these long sprays of 
 bell-shapen blooms with their tiny treas- 
 ures of gold ; these thick and ever-aspiring 
 vines, clambering over their trellises of 
 wire and rosewood ; these great urns from 
 which wander the greenest of moss, vying 
 with the richest, costliest velvet, — lies 
 
 25
 
 290 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 this fallen man, whose nature is divinely 
 originated and whose talents were ranked 
 with the highest quality of intellect, — lies 
 like an idiot, a madman, demented, be- 
 sotted, ruined, all for this one fatal cause, 
 Intemperance ! 
 
 " Would that the eyes of the whole 
 world could be infixed as a single eye and 
 here behold for itself! " 
 
 She went and brought a warm woollen 
 blanket, which she threw over the wretched 
 figure, and turned away to commune with 
 her own heart in its grief. Then she 
 thought of the sacred words which she 
 had once read to her brother : " For 
 they have made ready their heart like an 
 oven, while they lie in wait: their baker 
 sleepeth all the night, in the morning it 
 burneth as a flaming fire."
 
 THE BOTTLED MANUSCRIPT. 291 
 
 " He held the cup to my poor brother's 
 lips," she reflected, " and now he reaps 
 the curse. But I forgive him, and would 
 gladJy spare him the punishment which 
 God, in his fearful judgment, wrings out 
 to him. Oh that it were in my power 
 to save him ! " 
 
 An hour later she went and looked in 
 at the glass door. Still he slept. She 
 then placed a small stand near him, on 
 which were arranged several dishes of 
 tempting food, that when he awoke he 
 might partake of them without con- 
 straint. 
 
 Requesting Mrs. Comfort to have him 
 in charge, she put on her warmest gar- 
 ments and went out, notwithstanding the 
 inclemency of the weather. Her errand 
 was to see her husband in his office, for
 
 292 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 she wished to communicate to him what 
 no other of her household must know. 
 Not another lady had ventured out, and 
 the few gentlemen she met on her way 
 stared as though it must be an important 
 affair to bring her forth that day. But, 
 when the burden which now weighed 
 upon her heart impelled her, she was 
 equally indifferent to the cold blast, or the 
 look of curious surprise. 
 
 Her husband did not disappoint her in 
 this emergency. The noble heart of Harry 
 Alton was true to her highest convictions 
 of duty. He, who had once befriended her 
 when a needy orphan, should now find 
 friends who would mete out to him, un- 
 mindful of his degradation. 
 
 He had thrown on his overcoat and 
 was preparing to accompany her home,
 
 THE BOTTLED MANUSCRIPT. 293 
 
 when his officc'door opened and a stran- 
 ger, heavily muffled, walked in. 
 
 "How are you, sir? Are you an at- 
 torney ? " he asked in hurried, decided 
 tones. 
 
 " I am," returned Alton, surveying the 
 man Y\rith some attention, as he handed 
 him a chair near the stove. 
 
 " I am in pursuit of a thief, just rode 
 out from the city, and have tracked him 
 as far as this village. I want a writ." 
 
 " What was he like ? " asked Alton. 
 
 " ' Like nobody ever seen round here be- 
 fore,' said the man he stole the liquor from. 
 He dealt in poetry by the ounce, and I 
 should think he was crazy, if he hadn't 
 got possession of the whiskey so like a 
 man who had full use of his brains, and 
 a good deal of them, too." 
 
 25*
 
 294 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 Mary looked at her husband, from her 
 position partially obscured from the con- 
 stable, and motioned him to come that 
 way. While he continued talking, she 
 WTote on a paper which lay under his 
 eyes : " It is my old guardian. Save him, 
 if you can." 
 
 " Why didn't you get your writ made 
 out in the city ? " he asked. 
 
 " In too big a hurry to stop. I thought 
 I should overtake him, it was so cold and 
 stormy, if I got right off without any de- 
 lay. But somehow he got on another 
 road, I guess, took a shorter cut, or may 
 be he started sooner than we thought for.'* 
 
 Mary had no sooner written those words 
 for her husband than she went out. 
 Hastening home, she hurriedly inquired 
 of Margaret where the stranger was ?
 
 THE BOTTLED MANUSCRIPT. 295 
 
 " He's after going a good bit ago, 
 ma^am. When he came to hisself again, 
 T told him he might ate the feed yeVl 
 put there for him. He put a sup of the 
 tay into his mouth, and some of the mate 
 into his pocket, and said he must be after 
 gitting along, thin. He asked for the 
 leddy of the house, and whin Pd be tellin 
 you'd be gone out, ma'am, he axed for a 
 bit o' paper and a pen to write with. An' 
 he writes the like of what I niver see 
 afore, and Mrs. Comfort is sayin' that 
 same herself." 
 
 " Where is it ? " inquired Mary. 
 
 Mrs. Comfort brought it at this moment. 
 Mary saw that it was a writing in ci- 
 pher, the same, she remembered, that Mr. 
 Jameson had once taught her to use. 
 After some study, she recalled the key, 
 and read as follows : —
 
 296 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 "My dear old ward, I have stumbled 
 whither I would not. I go hence that I 
 may not disgrace you. Hippasus and 
 Heraclitus both taught that fire is the 
 principle of all things. If so, I am a man 
 of principle, although they hunt me as a 
 thief, and hoot me as a drunkard. Fare- 
 well, my child ; God reward you for your 
 kindness to your miserable guardian." 
 
 Meantime, Mr. Alton referred the consta- 
 ble to a trial justice for a writ. That per- 
 son being absent, he was obliged to hasten 
 on to the next one, who resided in a neigh- 
 boring town. 
 
 Where the poor crazed wanderer betook 
 himself, no information could be obtained, 
 though it was supposed he had concealed 
 himself in some of the comparatively com- 
 fortable barns of the vicinity, until the
 
 THE BOTTLED MANUSCRIPT. 297 
 
 excitement had subsided and the storm was 
 over. 
 
 As Mary stood at the window that night 
 and gazed out into the darkness, which was 
 only relieved by the light that dimly strug- 
 gled out from the angry and hurrying 
 clouds, and heard the boisterous wind roar 
 over the hills and around her own roof 
 which sheltered so much comfort and hap- 
 piness, she pressed her cheek against the 
 cold pane and sighed to herself, " Sm-ely 
 the way of the transgressor is hard ! " 
 
 For days and nights succeeding this sor- 
 rowful encounter with her former guardian, 
 she partially expected his return ; but he 
 came not. She then addressed a letter to 
 his sister, informing her of his appearance 
 at her house, but as she had several times 
 written to that lady since leaving her, and
 
 f 
 
 298 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 never had received a reply, she had now 
 little hope of intelligence from that quarter. 
 But, at last the letter was returned to her 
 by the Postmaster of Yelfield, with the in- 
 formation that Miss Eliza Jameson had 
 been dead for some months. 
 
 Before the snows of winter had fully left 
 the hill-tops and the shadowy places by the 
 hedges and woods, Mary saw in one of 
 the daily papers an account of the body 
 of a man found on the outskirts of the un- 
 frequented side of the forest, which lay to 
 the north of a neighboring town. It stated 
 that the man had probably wandered thith- 
 er in a fit of intoxication, where he had 
 lain down and frozen to death. By his 
 side was a bottle in which, strange to relate, 
 was a closely rolled manuscript written in 
 cipher.
 
 THE BOTTLED MANUSCRIPT. 299 
 
 The key to this writing no one could un- 
 derstand, but it was preserved by the coro- 
 ner who held inquest over the body, so that 
 if any persons should identify the individ- 
 ual, the manuscript would be at their dis- 
 posal. A handkerchief in the pocket of 
 the dead man, bore the initials, " G. J." 
 
 Mary immediately knew that this was 
 no other than her poor, old guardian. Her 
 husband sent for the manuscript, and, as 
 she had supposed, the cipher was easily 
 translated by herself. The following was 
 what Gilbert Jameson had written, proba- 
 bly on the day he died : — 
 
 " Now I am at the end of the lona: red 
 bridge and see what is before me, I can 
 comprehend what formerly was partially 
 enveloped in a mist. When I was a 
 boy I dreamed that I stood on the brink
 
 300 THE KED BRIDGE. 
 
 of the deep and rushing river of L'fe, over 
 which spanned two bridges. The first 
 and narrowest of these bridges was like 
 the purest white marble, its crystal arches 
 set with jewels with a key-stone as one 
 diamond, and all of its many pieces were 
 of solid gold. 
 
 '* The other bridge was of a glittering 
 red color; its arches were of twisted 
 black wood, with a key-stone as of a 
 snake' s-head, and the piers were the 
 sculptured forms of grinning satyrs. 
 
 "" I stood contemplating the two bridges 
 in order to decide which I had better 
 choose for my own passage over. As 
 there were several connections estab- 
 lished all the way along the bridges, until 
 the last section of each, so that the way- 
 farers, if tired of one, could pass over to
 
 THE BOTTLED MANUSCRIPT. 301 
 
 the other, it did not appear a great mat- 
 ter which I did start upon. As far as 
 my eye could reach, there seemed many 
 more persons on the red bridge than on 
 the white one, and so there were much ex- 
 citement and pleasure in this route, w^hile 
 the other looked cold and comfortless 
 with its crystals and marble. 
 
 " I was just stepping my foot on the red 
 bridge, when a grave-looking man came 
 up and gently touching my hand, said 
 to me, ' Young man ! beware of this 
 bridge ! You will find it safe to take the 
 other.' ' But I can cross over to the other 
 any time, if I get sick of this, as I go 
 along,' I replied, considerably annoyed at 
 this interference with what I considered 
 my right of choice. ' It is the dangerous 
 nature of this bridge,' he said, 'to fasci-
 
 302 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 nate those who once walk thereon, so that, 
 although they may know their peril ahead, 
 they are impelled sometimes it would 
 seem by an invisible whirlwind, and they 
 fly along over the way, without power 
 to break through the cruel charm and es- 
 cape to the other bridge. It affects 
 different persons variously. Sometimes 
 they are charmed with a power which 
 causes them to go slowly for a time, and 
 then their feet acquire such an artificial 
 accommodation to the way, that they 
 feel it would be impossible for them to 
 break away and cross over to the white 
 bridge.' 
 
 " ' But I see some now crossing over,' I 
 cried in exultation. ' They will have the 
 pleasure and the benefit of an experience 
 on both the bridges.'
 
 THE BOTTLED MANUSCRIPT. 303 
 
 "'True,' said the grave personage at my 
 right shoulder, ' a few, resolutely looking 
 upward for strength have the will-power to 
 quit this dangerous passage before it is too 
 late. And such afterwards go on their 
 way over the fair, clean, white bridge, re- 
 joicing and shouting to their old friends 
 on the red bridge to come over likewise 
 before they get along so far they will lose 
 all power to do so. For you must know 
 it is also the nature of this fatal route to 
 cause its patrons to acquire ease in progress 
 with every foot of the way, till near the 
 last they get to going with such perfect 
 adaptation, no human voice can aiTest 
 their attention sufficient to induce them 
 to change.' 
 
 " 'You will also observe at this moment,' 
 spoke the warning voice of the man, ' that
 
 304 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 some who had crossed over to the white 
 bridge, have got sick of the new and better 
 way, and are now crossing back to the old, 
 fatal track. Oh that I could shout in 
 their ears — Beware of the end ! Come 
 now, young man, be warned by these poor, 
 deluded ones, and start aright.^ 
 
 " ' I guess not,' I replied, ' since my 
 father and many other friends have gone 
 on this bridge. Besides, there are almost 
 all my young friends who take this way, 
 and they would deride me were I to go 
 over there with only the unfashionable 
 and humdrum folks. So saying, I dashed 
 on ; but he called out to me with such a 
 terrible voice, I stopped right where I 
 stood and heard him plainly say, — ' Re- 
 member that the white bridge is safe all 
 the way to the end, where are green pas-
 
 THR BOTTLED MANUSCRIPT. 305 
 
 tures and fruitful gardens; but the red 
 bridge breaks off before the river is 
 crossed, and whoever reaches that place 
 never sees the yawning chasm until he 
 is too far gone to turn back. Closing his 
 eyes, to shut out the fearful sight of the 
 inky waters, he steps off, — a loud cry or 
 a silent plunge and he is gone down to be 
 seen no more I ' ' WeU, I guess I'll risk 
 it if so many respectable people go on be- 
 fore me,' I said ; ' and at all events if I get 
 tired of it, it is time to think of going over 
 to the other bridge when I have tried this.' 
 " But oh ! had I given heed to that 
 warning when I started, or to any of the 
 voices which shouted to me fi:om the 
 safe way, as I hurried madly on ! I took 
 my own course, and laughed at the croak- 
 ers. I have had my own way, — alas ! 
 
 26*
 
 306 THE KED BRIDGE. 
 
 what a way after the first few stages of 
 excitement, triumph, and self-indulgence. 
 For a long way back there have been only 
 losses, crosses, sorrows upon sorrows ! 
 
 " Sad, indeed, is the memory of my being 
 urged on when I began to falter, by those 
 in whom I had the utmost confidence, and 
 who told me that the red bridge was by 
 far the safest for my health of body; 
 that I should lose my strength and spirits 
 if I went over to the other. 
 
 " I remember now, when I had nearly 
 resolved to quit this ugly way, that I fell 
 sick, and then it was that the maddening 
 advice to keep on the red bridge increased 
 my velocity fourfold, while my capability 
 to quit this way was nearly annulled. 
 
 " Ah ! what judgment will not be meted 
 out to these deceivers of themselves and
 
 THE BOTTLED MANUSCRIPT. 307 
 
 others ! When I think of the power of 
 personal influence in regard to this fatal 
 course, influence of word and of alluring 
 example, I shut my eyes against the over- 
 whelming picture ! 
 
 " But the saddest thought of all is, that 
 I have been the means of inducing others, 
 who else would have kept along on the 
 safe track, to come over and join this 
 destruction-doomed company. One prom- 
 ising young man I recall with deepest 
 self-accusation. He was an orphan who 
 took my guiding-word instead of his 
 father's, which he had lost. And how did 
 I discharge the responsibility? 
 
 " I now" gaze over to the other bridge, 
 only to see the peace and happiness I have 
 lost. Maddening thought ! Torturing pic- 
 ture of unattainable happiness !
 
 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 " I am now just on the brink of the fatal 
 chasm, against which the friend of my 
 youth, so long ago, warned me ! One 
 more step, and I go down into the cold, 
 dark waters I see before me, — down ! 
 down ! down to hell ! 
 
 " It is cold, but I feel it not, for the 
 unquenchable fire burns within me. I will 
 drain the bottle once more, and then 
 within it deposit this record, which, may 
 some deluded mortal find in time to be 
 warned against my fate. 
 
 " Eliza ! thou art dead ! I know it by 
 the way thou lookest on me now ; and 
 there is no track in the snow as thou 
 passest by ! Hast thou come for me ? It 
 grows colder. I must hasten. Oh, this 
 red bridge which hast brought me to the 
 dark chasm I "
 
 X. 
 
 fN the summer there came to the Alton 
 mansion a lady, who was a distant 
 ^ relative of Mr. Alton, from a west- 
 ern city. She spent a few days with 
 them on her route to the sea-coast. 
 
 " I find that our local customs differ 
 from yom's in some respects," she said to 
 Mary, one afternoon, after several visitors 
 of an hour had been present. 
 "Why so?" asked Mary. 
 " With us," she continued, " it is thought 
 indispensable to hospitality to order wine 
 for our guests of even a brief, formal 
 caU." 
 
 (309)
 
 310 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 " Do all your people observe this prac- 
 tice ? " inquired Mary. 
 
 " Nearly all in our particular circle. 
 There are, to be sure, persons of some of 
 the religious societies who do not follow 
 this rule, but they are the exception." 
 
 " Do you find your rule to work well ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes ; we are a social people, who 
 hold to getting the most enjoyment out 
 of life, consistent with good morals and 
 good society. We don't believe in going 
 to heaven as the crusaders went to Jeru- 
 alem, with hard peas in their shoes." 
 
 The lady laughed, but Mrs. Comfort, 
 who was present, seemed remarkably- 
 serious, although there might have been 
 seen a curious look in her eyes, which in- 
 dicated that this subject was by no means 
 near exhaustion.
 
 THE SURPRISE. 311 
 
 " May I suppose your people never 
 stumble with their smooth-going shoes?" 
 said Mrs. Comfort. 
 
 " Why no ; though sometimes ' acci- 
 dents happen in the best-regulated families,' 
 as the old saying is," returned the lady, 
 
 " Then you confess there are some slips 
 after the cup has reached the lips ? " said 
 Mrs. Comfort. 
 
 " The truth is your eastern people make 
 the worst work of our customs, when they 
 come out and find themselves at liberty to 
 do as the Romans do. A lady from one of 
 your cities spent some time in our city this 
 season. She stopped with a family of our 
 set so that I met her frequently. She was 
 out returning some calls with her daughter 
 and a friend, one afternoon, and, as at every 
 house they offered them wine, this lady, it
 
 312 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 appears, drank as though she was glad of 
 good wine, such as she didn't often see at 
 home. At the fourth place in her round 
 of visits, after drinking off again a fine 
 glass, she fell down upon the floor in a 
 state of perfect intoxication. Her daugh- 
 ter, a fine, high-bred girl, was so alarmed 
 at the spectacle of her mother rolling on 
 the carpet in her abject degradation, that 
 she fainted. As it was the residence of 
 one of our most aristocratic families, the 
 friend who accompanied them was ready 
 to die of mortification. She ordered a 
 coach and got them off" out of the scene 
 of their disgrace as soon as possible. 
 ' Poor ]Mrs. Wallingford ! ' exclaimed the 
 lady of the house where this took place, 
 when she was commenting upon the cir- 
 cumstances afterward to me ; ' she has
 
 THE SURPRISE. 313 
 
 yet to learn just how much good wine 
 she can bear. Her head is rather small 
 of her age I ' " 
 
 " Mrs. Wallingford did you say ? " now 
 inquired Mary, anxiously. 
 
 " Did I mention the name ! I ought to 
 have been more prudent, certainly. Since 
 I have betrayed it, then, I may as well 
 go on with the whole. It was a lady 
 
 from your city of , and her daughter 
 
 had been attending a celebrated semi- 
 nary — I think it was — at Blenheim." 
 
 Mary exchanged glances of surprise 
 with Mrs. Comfort, who said, — 
 
 " I guess that woman was glad to get back 
 again to a more temperate latitude, where 
 her temptations would be less numerous." 
 
 " She never appeared there again in 
 public, and she went away a few days 
 
 27
 
 314 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 after, although she had intentions of re- 
 maining some months. I felt very sorry 
 for Miss Wallingford, her daughter, as 
 she seemed to have captivated a young 
 gentleman, who is reckoned an excellent 
 match. But after that disgraceful scene 
 got around, he never called on her again." 
 
 " Very inconsistent, unreasonable peo- 
 ple ! " ejaculated Mrs. Comfort. 
 
 " How is that ? " inquired the lady. 
 
 " It seems they do not hesitate to put 
 the cup to their neighbor's mouth, and 
 then if one chances to get a little too 
 much so as to bring on an awkward scene, 
 she is condemned and derided. I should 
 think the right course would be not to 
 tempt people with that which turns them 
 into beasts in their appearance," said 
 Mrs. Comfort, with decision.
 
 THE SURPRISE. 315 
 
 " I don't think it would have made 
 quite so much of a sensation," observed 
 the lady, " had not the young man so 
 suddenly have visited judgment upon 
 Miss Wallingford ; and he was, doubtless, 
 influenced very considerably by a young 
 gentleman friend, who was formerly from 
 the east, and who is such a rabid temper- 
 ance man, he is an anomaly out there 
 among his acquaintance." 
 
 " By the way," continued the lady who 
 desired to change the subject, as it was 
 becoming slightly unpleasant, " this other 
 young man has a very peculiar history, 
 which I heard from his own lips with deep 
 interest. Shall I relate it, Mrs. Alton ? " 
 
 " If you please," answered Mary. 
 
 " He said he enlisted into the Federal 
 army about the time the war commenced,
 
 319 THE KED BRIDGE. 
 
 was shot, and left for dead. Afterwards 
 he was picked up by the rebels and im- 
 prisoned, where he suffered terribly. Oh, 
 it was heart-rending to hear him describe 
 his situation at that time ! While he was 
 in prison he remembered aU his past Life, 
 and some tilings, I should judge, troubled 
 him very much. After staying there till 
 he was almost worn out, he was released. 
 It seems he did not want to go back to 
 his friends, until he had done something 
 to distinguish himself. In particular he 
 wished to prove that he was reformed 
 from some of his old habits of intemper- 
 ance. So he wandered around until he 
 did something one day that attracted the 
 attention of a Federal officer, who soon 
 after engaged him as his secretary. He 
 remained in this position, true to his
 
 THE SURPRISE. 317 
 
 good intentions, until he obtained the fine 
 situation of secretary to him who is now 
 Governor of our State. Here he said he 
 was tempted every day to drink again ; 
 but he resolved to live one year and see 
 if he could endm-e the ordeal, when if he 
 came off conqueror, he should write home 
 to his friends and let them know where 
 he was. The strangest part of it is, he 
 was an only brother, and his sister believes 
 he is dead. She wiU be overjoyed when 
 he makes himself known, for he has be- 
 come one of the finest fellows I ever met. 
 The governor thinks highly of him and 
 entrusts him with unusual responsibilities. 
 He told my husband he was worth every- 
 thing to him now, and especially for his 
 habits of strict devotion to principle, so 
 that it was always safe to trust him. The 
 
 27*
 
 318 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 young man told me himself that he 
 owed everjrthing to his sister. Then, said 
 I, why don't you make some return by 
 discovering yourself to her? He said he 
 was going to, when the time of his self- 
 prescribed probation had expired, which is 
 very soon now, I believe." 
 
 " Alas ! " sighed Mary ; " I had an only 
 and beloved brother in the army, who 
 was killed. I know how to feel for that 
 young man's sister." 
 
 She arose and went to the centre-table 
 where she found a photograph-album. 
 Turning to the picture of her brother, she 
 showed it to her guest. 
 
 " It is astonishing how much this pic- 
 ture resembles that young man," ex- 
 claimed the lady. " Certainly, I should 
 think Mr. Winslow sat for it, himself! "
 
 THE SURPRISE. 319 
 
 " Mr. Winslow ! " cried Mary, turning 
 pale. 
 
 " Yes ; that is his name, — let me think, 
 his first name is William. I remember 
 it, because it is the same name of my 
 oldest son who died many years ago." 
 
 " William Winslow I " gasped Mary, 
 " then it must be my own lost brother I " 
 
 " Possible ! " exclaimed the lady. " He 
 told me his home was in this State. He 
 said he had kept himself aware of his 
 sister's getting along, by means of an old 
 friend who was in his secret. I remember 
 now he told me she had married very 
 well to a young lawyer of property ; but 
 I little thought it was any relative of my 
 own to whom he referred." 
 
 " You will excuse me to retire to my 
 own room," said Mary, while the tears came
 
 320 THE RED BRIDGE. 
 
 rapidly, — tears of grateful, overwhelming 
 joy, such as angels might behold with 
 sympathetic emotion. 
 
 For some time Mary sat alone by her 
 open window, and, looking upward to 
 the blue, unclouded skies, reflected upon 
 the goodness of her heavenly Father. 
 Her heart dissolved in penitential grati- 
 tude as she thought of the mysterious 
 way in which he had led her up to the 
 present moment, which was now so laden 
 with mercies. 
 
 Opening the beloved Bible, to which 
 she had so often resorted in the trying 
 seasons of the past, and also in moments 
 of faith and consolation, she read: — 
 
 " And he shall sit as a refiner and 
 purifier of silver, and he shall purify the 
 sons of Levi, and purge them as gold and
 
 THE SURPRISE. 321 
 
 silver, that they may offer unto the Lord 
 an offering in righteousness. Then shall 
 the offering of Judah and Jerusalem be 
 pleasant unto the Lord as in the days of 
 old, and as in former years." 
 
 THE END.
 
 bCSB LIBRARY