THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 Rare Book Room 
 GIFT OF 
 
 John W. Beckman 
 

 

" Master Clarence, lour feet ten in his morocco pumps." 
 
 PiliTO 5. 
 
TRUE MANLINESS; 
 
 OE, 
 
 THE LANDSCAPE GARDENER, 
 
 for oTS mrtr <$i 
 
 BY MRS. L. C. TUTHILL. 
 
 "Conquer difficulties 
 By daring to attempt them." 
 
 BOSTON: 
 
 CROSBY AND AINS WORTH. 
 NEW YORK: OLIVER S. FELT. 
 
 1867. 
 
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 18(56, by 
 
 CROSBY AND AINSWORTH, 
 In the Clerk's Oflice of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. 
 
 ELECTROTYPES AT THE 
 
 BOSTON STEREOTYPE FOUNDRY, 
 
 4 SPRING LANE. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. LITTLE WAINBOW. . 5 
 
 II. GOING, GOING 9 
 
 III. GONE! 13 
 
 IV. THE " COOL." 20 
 
 V. ROLLING THE K 27 
 
 VI. HARVEY AMADORE 29 
 
 VII. MISCHIEF BREWING 34 
 
 VIII. THE BLACK BEAR 41 
 
 IX. REPROOF 48 
 
 X. MORE MISCHIEF 54 
 
 XL A SUDDEN CHANGE 61 
 
 XII. THE BROWN COTTAGE 69 
 
 XIII. A PLEASANT MEETING 79 
 
 XIV. HARDSHIPS 88 
 
 XV. MERRY CHRISTMAS. 92 
 
 XVI. UNWELCOME FRIENDS 102 
 
 XVII. A SHOWER BATH no 
 
 XVIII. STRONG MEN 115 
 
 XIX. CONQUERING DIFFICULTIES 124 
 
 XX. FLITTING , 129 
 
 (3) 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 XXI. ALL is NOT GOLD THAT GLITTERS 139 
 
 XXII. AUNT DOTTY'S CALL 144 
 
 XXIII. A FAMILY CONSULTATION 153 
 
 XXIV. CLARENCE IN A QUANDARY 158 
 
 XXV. A CONFESSION 175 
 
 XXVI. BIDDY MEGAN 180 
 
 XXVII. THE BANKER'S HOME 185 
 
 XXVIII. SIGHT-SEEING 189 
 
 XXIX. PETE 193 
 
 XXX. A VISIT TO THE GARDEN 205 
 
 XXXI. SOMETHING NOT TOLD ' . 211 
 
 XXXII. THE YOUNG TRAVELLER 221 
 
 XXXIII. FIGHTING FORMAN 228 
 
 XXXIV. NEWS FROM HOME 236 
 
 XXXV. CAPTAIN AMADORE 239 
 
 XXXVI. WHO WOULD HAVE THOUGHT IT ! . . , , ... 253 
 
TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 LITTLE WAINBOW. 
 
 BENEATH the brilliant light of a chandelier, sus 
 pended over a marble centre-table, sat Mr. and 
 Mrs. Rose. 
 
 The bald head of Mr. Rose shone in that light, 
 looking round and smooth as an ostrich egg : yet 
 Mr. Rose was not an old man ; he was on the hither 
 side of forty. 
 
 The rings and bracelets of Mrs. Rose sparkled 
 with a lustre very pleasing to herself. Mrs. Rose 
 was fond of ornament. She was embroidering a 
 neck-tie of crimson satin with gold-colored silk, for 
 her darling pet, Clarence Rose. 
 
 Mr. Rose was poring over the evening paper. 
 
 But who comes here? What a funny little 
 son ! 
 
6 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 Why, it is Master Clarence. There he stands, 
 four feet ten in his morocco pumps. Long-tailed, 
 purple coat, plaid pantaloons, blue waistcoat, frilled 
 shirt-bosom with turquoise studs nothing wanting 
 but the neck-tie to complete his elegant toilet ! 
 
 " Mamma, ith my tavat done ?" demanded the boy. 
 
 "Not quite, my darling; but it will be in five 
 minutes." 
 
 " Now, thath too bad ; the pawty beginth at 
 eight," said Clarence, looking at his enamelled 
 watch, " and ith theven minute patht alweady." 
 
 Mrs. Rose plied her needle swiftly, and in a few 
 minutes the neck-tie was completed. 
 
 "Let me arrange it for you, dear," said Mrs. 
 Rose. 
 
 " No, I'll awange it mythelf ; you don't know the 
 latht fathonable tie." So saying, he turned towards 
 the large mantel mirror, and making the embroi 
 dered ends stand out like Louis Napoleon's mus 
 tache, he exclaimed, " Thath the go ! " and made 
 a low bow to himself. 
 
 "I shall send the carriage for you at eleven," 
 said the delighted, admiring Mrs. Rose, as the boy 
 left the room, 
 
 Mr. Rose, meantime, ensconced behind the news 
 paper, seemed not to notice what was going on ; 
 but an occasional hem, or rather more guttural 
 sound, might have betrayed to others, not pre-occu- 
 pied, that he was fully aware of what was passing. 
 
LITTLE WAIMBOW. 7 
 
 As soon as the front door had closed upon Clar 
 ence, Mr. Rose said, with a very decided em 
 phasis, 
 
 " That boy must be sent to school." 
 
 " Send Clarence to school ! Why, Mr. Rose, 
 you are not in earnest." 
 
 " Never more so in my life," was the calm reply. 
 
 " O, husband, that would be cruel to him and to 
 me," said she, with tears in her eyes. 
 
 " The cruelty would be in allowing the boy to 
 become a silly, effeminate dandy. Here is an ad 
 vertisement stating that the Rev. Mr. Warren by 
 the way, an old classmate of mine at school will 
 receive four boys into his family, to fit them for 
 college or for mercantile life. He is settled in the 
 village of Raceville, nearly two hundred miles from 
 the city. A railroad passes by the village, and of 
 course it is easy of access. I don't intend to send 
 Clarence to college ; his defective speech would 
 prevent that. I hope in the end to take him into 
 my counting-room." 
 
 Mrs. Rose was now sobbing violently, with her 
 frilled handkerchief to her eyes. 
 
 " Now, my dear, you will take the goffering out 
 of your laced handkerchief. Be reasonable. Clar 
 ence must leave home next Monday morning ; the 
 term at Mr. Warren's commenced the first of Sep 
 tember, a week ago." 
 
 "So soon? I can't part with him, indeed I 
 
8 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 can't," shrieked Mrs. Rose, almost going into hys 
 terics. 
 
 " I am sorry for you, Eliza, but your weak indul 
 gence would ruin the boy, if it has not already 
 done it. I have set down my foot, and there's no 
 if nor but in the matter. Have him ready to start 
 early on Monday morning. I will write to my old 
 chum this very night. I hope he will be able to 
 make a man of Clarence weak timber he will 
 have to work upon." 
 
 " He is not weak in mind, but delicate bodily ; 
 he is small of his age," sobbed out Mrs. Rose, hys 
 terically. 
 
 " Let me see ; he must be thirteen. Goodness ! 
 At his age I was clerk in a hardware store a big 
 strapping fellow able to earn my own living. I'll 
 go and write my letter." 
 
 Mrs. Rose, knowing that her husband had fully 
 made up his mind, soon wiped her eyes, and to con 
 sole herself began to embroider another neck-tie 
 green silk with a pink figure, which she called an 
 arabesque pattern ; or rather it was so termed in 
 the fashion-plate from which she copied the pattern. 
 She had nearly completed her work, when Clarence 
 came home, sleepy, tired, and cross as a bear. 
 
 " Come, tell me, darling, something about the 
 party," said she. 
 
 " I won't. I want to go wight to bed>" snarled he. 
 
 " I am afraid you haven't had a pleasant evening, 
 my dear." 
 
GOING, GO/JVG. 
 
 " They made fun of me, and called me little 
 Wainbow," said Clarence ; and without further cer 
 emony he left the room, Mrs. Rose calling after 
 him, 
 
 " What, not one kiss, when I have sat up work 
 ing for you till twelve o'clock ! " 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 GOING, GOING. 
 
 THE next morning Clarence was too sick to come 
 down to breakfast. Late hours and late suppers 
 evidently did not agree with the delicate boy. 
 
 The tete-a-tete breakfast of Mr. Rose and his 
 wife was as unsocial as possible. Mr. Rose re 
 sorted to the morning paper, as he sipped his coffee. 
 Mrs. Rose was in a pouting Immor, but was over 
 awed by the unusual silence of her husband, and 
 ventured no remonstrance against the decision of 
 the previous evening. As he left the table he said, 
 
 "My dear, whatever preparations you have to 
 make for Clarence must be completed by next Sat 
 urday evening." 
 
 Mr. Rose closed the door rather more quickly 
 than usual, and was soon out of hearing. 
 
 Mrs. Rose despatched a messenger for a fashion- 
 
10 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 able tailor, and ordered two full suits of clothing 
 for Clarence, to be completed without fail at the 
 time specified. 
 
 Clarence came down to dinner looking pale and 
 forlorn. The curls of fair hair which usually 
 adorned his pretty face were now hanging about it 
 " like sea-weed round a clam." 
 
 " Parties don't suit you, boy," said Mr. Rose. 
 " You look as weak and puny as a young kitten who 
 hasn't opened its eyes. Why, your own are scarce 
 ly open, and are edged with scarlet. This will 
 never do. A change of air will be beneficial. I 
 am going to send you into the country, to school. 
 You must be nearly thirteen." 
 
 " I'm quite that," said Clarence, brightening up. 
 u I thould like to go. The boyth poke fun at me, 
 and thay I'm tied to mamma'th apon thing." 
 
 Mr. Rose laughed heartily, while his other half 
 gave a deep sigh. She had taught Clarence her 
 self, to spare him from being ridiculed for his 
 broken English, and now dreaded what he would 
 have to encounter among rough boys. 
 
 Mr. Rose hitherto had not interfered, consider 
 ing Clarence more as his wife's plaything, than as a 
 reasonable human being, for whom he was account 
 able. His action was now decided and prompt. 
 
 Mr. Rose continued : " Clarence, I am going to 
 send you two hundred miles from home, by your 
 self. Do you think you are manly enough to un 
 dertake the journey alone?" 
 
GOIJYG, GO/JVG. 11 
 
 Clarence hesitated a moment ; then, looking at 
 Mrs. Rose in a helpless, sheepish way, he said, in a 
 whining voice, " I wather have mamma go with me." 
 
 " No ; you must go alone ; you wished to be re 
 leased from a woman's ' apon thing/ and it is true 
 you have been tied there too long. Your tongue, 
 too, has been tied ; and you must get it loosened, or 
 you will never do for lawyer, doctor, clergyman, or 
 merchant either. You are to start in the morning 
 train on Monday next for Raceville." 
 
 " Can't I go part of the way with the dear boy ? " 
 asked Mrs. Rose, with the tears streaming down 
 her cheeks. 
 
 " Not a step," was the stern reply. 
 
 u Am I to fit for tollege?" asked Clarence. 
 
 " If you will mind your R-s and S-es as well as 
 your P-s and Q-s, you may ; but I do not think 
 you ever will." 
 
 u I thall want loth of thingth and plenty of 
 money," said Clarence. 
 
 "You will be amply provided with everything 
 needful. I am ashamed of you, Clarence. When 
 I was of your age I could have entered college, if I 
 had chosen to do so ; and was a member of a De 
 bating Society ; and you ! why, you are a big baby, 
 and ought to wear corals and a silver whistle about 
 your neck, instead of that flashy cravat." 
 
 " My tavat is a puffet beauty ; everybody thaid 
 tho, latht night." 
 
12 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 " Listen to me, Clarence," said Mr. Rose, an 
 grily. " I have written to Mr. Warren my wishes 
 concerning you, and prepared him for what would 
 have otherwise been a surprise to him. One thing 
 more I have to say to you. I shall not take the 
 least notice of any complaint you may make about 
 your master or your schoolmates. You arc to be 
 absent one year so you need not ask to come 
 home till the next September." 
 
 " Not if he should be homesick ? " suggested Mrs. 
 Rose, dolorously. 
 
 " He must not be homesick. He must be brave. 
 When boys go in to swim early in the spring, when 
 the water is very cold, they plunge in boldly, and 
 shiver at first \ but soon they don't mind it ; they 
 grow warm. So it must be with you, Clarence : 
 plunge into school boldly, and you will soon get used 
 to it." 
 
 Mrs. Rose was an habitual weeper. She was 
 now crying immoderately. 
 
 " Don't ki, mamma. I thant be hometick," said 
 Clarence. 
 
 " Ridiculous ! Absurd ! " exclaimed Mr. Rose. 
 " You see, my dear, the absolute necessity of send 
 ing the boy away. I am glad to find that he shows 
 more willingness to go than I expected. You must 
 not weaken his resolution." 
 
GOJVTE. 13 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 GONE ! 
 
 MONDAY morning. It was a glorious September 
 day, bland and bright ; a few red leaves on the 
 maples, a few yellow elm leaves quietly falling to 
 mother earth. 
 
 Mr. Rose drove with Clarence to the station, and 
 placed him in the car which would take him all the 
 way to Raceville. 
 
 At the earnest request of Mr. Rose, his wife did 
 not come down to breakfast that morning ; so there 
 was no leave taking on her part. Stern as Mr. 
 Rose seemed, his voice trembled and his eyes 
 moistened as he said, u God bless you," to the boy, 
 who was leaving the shelter of his roof, utterly un 
 prepared for hardship of any kind. 
 
 Clarence deposited the checks for two trunks and 
 one box in his green silk purse, through the 
 meshes of which glittered several gold pieces, and 
 stuck his ticket under the gold band of his blue 
 velvet cap. 
 
 The novelty of a journey by himself, but still 
 more the possession of two brand-new trunks, filled 
 with beautiful clothing, and that square box, with 
 its cake, candies, and other toothsome dainties, quite 
 
14 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 reconciled the boy to parting with home. He 
 nodded to Mr. Rose from the window of the car, 
 with a satisfied smile, as the car started, and waved 
 his hand with a flourish, that meant, " I can take 
 care of myself." 
 
 At this moment a young lady took a seat beside 
 him. She had in her arms a small white and tan 
 dog, which she soon carefully accommodated on 
 her lap. 
 
 The train whizzed and tore on, and soon " miles 
 and mileses" were between Clarence and his city 
 home. 
 
 Soon his attention was drawn to the lady and her 
 pretty, dumb companion. And it was not strange, 
 for they were both worthy of notice. 
 
 The lady apparently had seen but eighteen sum 
 mers eighteen pleasant ones, judging by her 
 bright, intelligent face. Her dark gray eyes were 
 so sparkling that her other features were scarcely 
 noticed ; they were not remarkably handsome, but 
 those splendid eyes and the beautiful glow of health 
 on her plump cheeks rendered her face charmingly 
 attractive. 
 
 The little dog, with its long silken ears of a bright, 
 tan color, lay quietly in her lap, and seemed to listen 
 to the caressing remarks of a voice not " low/' but 
 " sweet." 
 
 " What ith your dogth's name? " asked Clarence. 
 He rejoices in the name of Winfield, but we call 
 
 u 
 
GOJV. 15 
 
 him, for brevity, Win, and sometimes Winny ; and 
 pardon me for making the same inquiry of your 
 self. What is your name ? " 
 
 " Clanth Wothe," was the reply. 
 
 " May I take the further liberty to inquire how 
 far you intend travelling to-day, Mr. Wothe ? " 
 
 " I am going to Watheville," replied Clarence, 
 coloring deeply at the consciousness of his defective 
 speech. 
 
 " Watheville ! I do not know any place of that 
 name on this route. How far is it from the city?" 
 
 " Two bunded mileth." 
 
 " That is just as far as I am going. I shall be 
 glad of your escort." 
 
 The lady chatted away to her dog, in a baby- 
 talk, that Clarence suspected was an imitation of 
 his own ; and he kept silence, excepting as he an 
 swered the questions from time to time addressed 
 to him. 
 
 " Win, wake up ! oo lathy itty dog," said the fast 
 young lady. " Look at this pretty young genty." 
 
 The creature turned its dark eyes with such a 
 fearfully human look at Clarence that he was quite 
 startled, and said, 
 
 " He theems to know what you thay to him." 
 
 " Indeed he does. I wish he could talk. I can 
 teach him everything else," said she, pulling Win's 
 long ears. 
 
 " You ought to thend him wha I'm going," said 
 Clarence. 
 
16 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 "Where is that?" 
 
 " To cool," replied Clarence, in a loud tone. 
 
 " He's cool enough now. When the weather 
 was warm, I did send him to a cool place, for fear 
 he would go mad. You would be cooler if you 
 took off your overcoat." 
 
 Clarence was so vexed at being thus misunder 
 stood, that when the train stopped at the next sta 
 tion, he changed his seat, and regaled himself with 
 a lunch of sandwiches and cakes, placed for him, 
 by his indulgent mamma, in the capacious pocket 
 of his overcoat. 
 
 After a while he began to feel quite solitary, in 
 the midst of so many entire strangers, and now 
 and then brushed a tear from his blue eyes. The 
 purse and its contents were, however, an unfailing 
 source of relief. He took it frequently from his 
 pocket, and held it up to admire the u shiners " 
 within, and carefully replaced it in his inner coat 
 pocket. 
 
 When the train stopped for dinner, Clarence, 
 contrary to the command of Mr. Eose, got out of 
 the car, and went to the table. Why shouldn't he 
 dine, like other folks, even if he had eaten a lunch ? 
 So he hurried down his dinner like " other folks," 
 paid his half dollar, and dropped his purse into the 
 pocket of his overcoat. 
 
 After dinner, Raceville seemed to the solitary 
 boy a kind of Cape Flyaway. Every time the 
 
GOME. 17 
 
 conductor came along, the boy asked if they had 
 almost reached Watheville. 
 
 He began to be very sick, the motion of the 
 train not agreeing with an overloaded stomach, 
 and he was obliged frequently to put his head out 
 of the window. 
 
 He began to cry right heartily. Just then the 
 conductor called out Raceville, and tapped Clarence 
 on the shoulder. 
 
 Gladly Clarence rushed out of the car, and soon 
 spied his trunks and box on the platform. 
 
 " Any baggage, mister," said a porter. 
 
 " Want a carriage, sir," bawled another. 
 
 " Yith, I want a cawedge ; an I've got two 
 twunks and a both." 
 
 The men winked at each other, and the hack- 
 driver asked for his checks. 
 
 Clarence felt for his purse, in this pocket and that, 
 in every pocket, and it was not to be found. 
 
 " How do I know them is your twunks, if you 
 can't show the checks- ?" said the hackman. 
 
 " Betause I know it," was the angry answer. 
 " Take 'em up and put 'em on the cawedge." . 
 
 A provoking laugh followed, and the inquiry, 
 
 " Where are you going?" 
 
 " To Mitht Wawnth cool." 
 
 " There isn't a person of that name in all Race 
 ville. You must be a runaway," said the porter, 
 "or else you've mistaken the place." 
 2 
 
18 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 " I am not a wunaway ; I am the son of Mithter 
 Wothe, of New Yawk ; lie put me on the twain 
 himthelf." 
 
 " That he did, indade," said a well-dressed Irish 
 man, handing out three checks. "Take up the 
 young masther's luggage, and don't stand here 
 insulting him." 
 
 "Why, Pat, how came you here?" exclaimed 
 Clarence, astonished to see the waiter from his own 
 home. 
 
 " The misthress sent me to take care of you, but 
 not to let you see me unless you got into throuble." 
 
 " But how did you find my puth ! " said Clar 
 ence, seizing the purse. 
 
 " Afther you had dined, like a gintleman, and 
 was getting into the car, I took it out of your 
 pocket, for fear some one else would do it ; for I 
 saw a little paper with, ' Look out for pickpockets,' 
 on it, posted up at the station ; so I just thought 
 I should be the most convanient pickpocket for 
 
 you." 
 
 " Don't tell papa of that," said Clarence ; " he 
 might not be pleased with you." 
 
 Pat laughed, and said, "Better pleased that I 
 should do it, than that you should have lost checks, 
 money, and all." 
 
 The carriage soon conveyed them to the parson 
 age, the residence of the Rev. Albertus Warren. 
 
 As Pat assisted the waiter at the parsonage to 
 
GONE. 19 
 
 carry the trunks to the room appropriated to Clar 
 ence, he offered the man a five-dollar gold piece, 
 saying, " The misthress sent this to you, begging 
 you would be kind to her darlint, Masther Clarence. 
 She would pick out her two eyes for him." 
 
 Honest Tom refused the money. 
 
 " Now, that's a mysthery Father Malony himself 
 couldn't explain. I thought all Yankees loved 
 money." 
 
 " They like to earn their money fairly, and not 
 be paid till they have earned it. Mr. Warren does 
 not allow us to take money from the boys. I'll be 
 as kind, to the popinjay as I can be, though he looks 
 mighty proud." 
 
 ." He's a mighty nice lad," said Pat, warmly, 
 " only ," he added in a low tone, " a leetle bit 
 spoilt." 
 
 While this conversation was going on in the long 
 entry, Clarence was being kindly received by Mr. 
 Warren. 
 
 " This lady you have seen before," said Mr. 
 Warren, as he presented Mrs. Warren. 
 
 Clarence was surprised and embarrassed when 
 he saw that it was the lady whom he had abruptly 
 left in the car. 
 
 She smiled roguishly, but greeted him warmly. 
 She had walked from the station, and reached 
 the parsonage long enough before Clarence to tell 
 Mr. Warren of her meeting the boy, and of her 
 
20 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 perplexity about " Watheville," and about going to 
 " cool." 
 
 l ( I will show you to your room, Clarence," said 
 Mr. Warren, kindly. u We shall have tea in half 
 an hour. And, my lad, I shall ask you no ques 
 tions at table, for Mr. Rose informs me that you 
 have a defect in your speech, which, however, we 
 hope, in time, entirely to cure." 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE "COOL." 
 
 WHEN the bell rang for tea, the family, consist 
 ing of Mr. and Mrs. Warren, Jack Jimson, and 
 Stackpole Clap, came to the table ; but Clarence 
 did not make his appearance. 
 
 " I will go for the stranger as soon as I have 
 poured out your tea," said Mrs, Warren. She 
 tapped gently at the door of the room assigned to 
 Clarence. No voice bade her come in. She 
 opened the door. The poor boy had thrown him 
 self upon the bed, and cried himself to sleep. 
 Mrs. Warren did not disturb him. She closed the 
 door quietly, and went down stairs. 
 
 About an hour after she went again, and, awa 
 kening him, begged him to come down stairs and 
 take supper. 
 
THE "COOL." 21 
 
 Clarence roused himself, and Mrs.* Warren, see 
 ing his hair was in wild disorder, with one of her 
 own small side combs arranged the fair curls about 
 his face, just as she would if he had been a pretty 
 baby. This was not just the thing for Clarence, 
 who had had too much petting already ; and so 
 Mr. Warren said to his wife, after she had kindly 
 and tenderly devoted herself to him, while the boy 
 partook of the nice, warm supper set before him. 
 
 Mr. Warren took her aside, and said, " This will 
 never do. The boy must be turned in with the 
 others at once. I am afraid he will receive rather 
 rough treatment, but he might as well go through 
 with it first as last." 
 
 " Spare him for a week, at least," pleaded his 
 young wife. 
 
 " No, I have decided otherwise. You must not 
 indulge him, because he is a spoiled pet. I shall 
 take him to the library, and make him acquainted 
 with Jack and Stackpole." 
 
 "But he is tired and sleepy," still urged Mrs. 
 Warren. 
 
 " Please, my dear, not another word in his 
 behalf." 
 
 Mr. Warren then returned to Clarence, and said, 
 "The boys pass an hour together every night in 
 the library, and amuse themselves according to 
 their own pleasure. I will make you acquainted 
 with them." 
 
22 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 They found the two boys engaged in playing a 
 game of checkers. 
 
 Jack Jimson was nearly six feet tall. His arms 
 were long in proportion to his body, and his hands 
 immensely large. His coarse black hair stood up 
 as stiffly as the bristles of a 'shoe brush, and his 
 large ears were a deeper red than his face, which 
 was by no means destitute of color. His wide 
 mouth displayed a set of strong yellow teeth, which 
 had not been subjected to a dentist's manipulations, 
 judging from their remarkable irregularity. 
 
 He rose from his seat, and bowed awkwardly to 
 Clarence, looking down upon him as though he had 
 been a squirrel or a canary bird. 
 
 Stackpole Clap was not much larger than Clar 
 ence. He might possibly have boasted of full five 
 feet of height, but seemed not as tall, from an 
 habitual stoop, which might have been acquired 
 from perpetual cringing. He walked as if he were 
 always saying to the very ground, " By your 
 leave ; " not because he was humble and modest, 
 but because he was obsequious, and had not inde 
 pendence enough to say either his body or his soul 
 was his own. His hair, straight as a candle, was 
 almost as white, and his pale-blue eyes wandered 
 even when he spoke, as though seeking for appro 
 bation from those about him. He bowed low to 
 Clarence, looking at the same time at Jack. 
 
 Clarence felt exceedingly shy and embarrassed. 
 
THE " COOL" 23 
 
 Jack Jimson assumed an air of immense superi 
 ority, and eyed the new comer as he would a cat 
 which he intended to torment, his staring dark 
 eyes and heavy eyebrows giving him the air of a 
 young bandit. 
 
 Poor little Clarence shrunk from the saucy stare, 
 and fairly trembled when Jack asked, in a coarse 
 voice, 
 
 " Mister, what may I call you ? " 
 
 " Wo the," meekly replied Clarence. 
 
 "'Well, Wothe, you got seasick and homesick 
 on the railroad ; didn't you ? " 
 
 " Yith, thir." 
 
 A loud laugh from Jack, echoed by Stackpole 
 Clap, sounded through the apartment. 
 
 Clarence, unaccustomed to such violent imperti 
 nence, roused himself, and said to Stackpole, 
 
 "You might be mo' polite to a a" Clar 
 ence hesitated; he could not say stranger " new 
 acquaintanth." 
 
 Stackpole stifled his laughter, and pretended to 
 sneeze. 
 
 " Why ! how now ! There's some spunk in you. 
 More, I dare say, than there is in my toady, if you 
 are such u dolly-boy." 
 
 Clarence took no notice of the remark, but 
 turned over the leaves of a book, and commenced 
 reading to himself. 
 
 The other boys resumed the game that had been 
 
24 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 interrupted ; but that was soon ended by Jack's 
 gaining the victory. 
 
 " Well, now, Jack, tell us one of your funny 
 stories," said Stackpole. 
 
 " Willingly," was the reply, " if Mr. Wothe has 
 no objection." 
 
 " Thertainly I have not." 
 
 " I suppose you have always lived in the city. 
 Do you know much about the country ? " 
 
 "I do not." 
 
 " Well, once upon a time," said Jack, " not very 
 long ago, a great, horrid black bear prowled about 
 this very house. He came out of the woods, not 
 far off, as hungry as hungry could be, all ready to 
 eat up somebody. He was an awful big creature,^ 
 a great deal bigger than an ox, with teeth as long as 
 my forefinger, and a mouth big enough to take 
 your head right off, Mr. Wothe, at a single mouth 
 ful. Well, there was a small boy at this school, 
 about your size, with just such curly hair and blue 
 eyes ; a real dolly-boy, mamma's pet, a pretty 
 creature, just fit to put in a toy-shop window, 
 to please little eight-year-old girls. Well, that 
 pretty boy put his head out that window, one night, 
 when he heard the bear growl ; and, lo and behold, 
 the bear was prowling about just here, and when 
 he saw that curly head, he snapped at it, and 
 scalped the boy entirely ; took the skin right off 
 the top of his head, curls and all, as neatly as a 
 
THE " COOL." 25 
 
 Pottawatamie Indian could have done it with his 
 tomahawk. Never a single hair grew again on the 
 top of that sweet boy's head." 
 
 Stackpole giggled and snickered. Jack turned 
 fiercely upon him, and said, " None of your laugh 
 ing, just as I am coming to the tragical end." 
 
 Stackpole collapsed. Jack went on. 
 
 " Well, one day, a whole month after, when his 
 head had healed over, the boy let's see Pink 
 yes, that was his name went to the woods 
 with some other boys, a nutting. Suddenly they 
 heard a tremendous growl, and all ran. Poor Pink 
 was so frightened that he tumbled down ; and the 
 bear, having had a taste of the delicate little dolly- 
 boy before, liked it well, and devoured him now 
 entirely. Nothing remained of him but a few gilt 
 buttons and a beautiful red neck-tie. 
 
 " What do you think of that, Mr. Wothe?" 
 
 " I think the black ba' wath much like youthelf," 
 said Clarence, who had completely recovered self- 
 possession. 
 
 Stackpole, in spite of himself, and his fear of 
 Jack, laughed outright. 
 
 Jack seized the toady by the shoulder, and gave 
 him a shaking so violent that the boy shrieked, 
 and the noise brought Mr. Warren to the library. 
 
 " How now ! " he exclaimed ; " what does this 
 mean? Jack and Stackpole fighting?" 
 
 Neither of the combatants answered. 
 
26 TRUE MANLIMESS. 
 
 " He," said Clarence, pointing to Jack, " told a 
 funny thowy, and that boy laughed at it ; then lie 
 thook him." 
 
 " Jack, you are violent in your demonstrations ; 
 ask Stackpole's pardon." 
 
 " Pardon, Pole," muttered Jack. 
 
 " It is granted, entirely," replied Stackpole, 
 bowing in the most cringing manner to big Jack. 
 
 "I am sorry," added Mr. Warren, "that our 
 young friend Clarence should have witnessed such 
 behavior, the very first evening of his arrival." 
 
 " O, it wath funny," said Clarence, laughing. 
 " It hath done me good." 
 
 And so it had. Though petted, and rendered 
 effeminate by weak indulgence, Clarence was, nat 
 urally, neither silly nor a coward. He had been 
 very little in company with boys of his own age, 
 but had been much with older people, and was not 
 habitually bashful. 
 
 Mr. Warren now summoned the boys to the 
 parlor for evening prayers. 
 
ROLLING THE R. 27 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 ROLLING THE B. 
 
 
 
 AT the very outset of his school course, Clarence 
 had thus rendered Jack Jimson, the bully of the 
 school, his formidable enemy. 
 
 In addition to the four boarders in Mr. Warren's 
 family, there were eight or ten boys from the 
 village, who attended as day-scholars. Over all 
 these Jack ruled by strength of fist, and no one 
 had yet dared to brave the strong despot. The 
 small boys looked up to him as young Indians do 
 to their savage chief, and the larger ones durst not 
 measure their strength with his, either singly or 
 combined. 
 
 Mr. Warren, though a kind man, and an excel 
 lent teacher, knew little of the morale of the school, 
 excepting intellectually. As long as they conducted 
 themselves properly in his presence, and gave good 
 recitations, he was satisfied, and made no further 
 investigations. 
 
 Not so with his " fast " young wife. She knew 
 much more of what was going on out of school. 
 She was better acquainted with the boys, and, with 
 a woman's quick intuition, understood their charac 
 ters much more thoroughly than did her husband, 
 
28 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 with all his learning his mathematics, Greek and 
 Latin. She knew what elements made up the 
 character of Jack Jimson, as well as she knew the 
 contents of the castors on her dinner-table. If she 
 had made the comparison between them, she would 
 have said that mustard^ red pepper, and vinegar 
 were constituent elements in the composition of 
 Jack Jimson's character, while the oil predominated 
 in that of Stackpole Clap. She had already learned 
 that Clarence was not a soft custard. He had 
 ruled Mrs. Rose at home; he had ruled the ser 
 vants, and apparently Mr. Rose. It was a surprise 
 to the boy when Mr. Rose " set down his foot," 
 and ordered Clarence oiF to school, who thought 
 himself master of the house. 
 
 Clarence had not yet been allowed to go into the 
 school-room with the other boys, though he had 
 now been at Raceville a whole week : neither had 
 he been allowed again to pass the hour of evening 
 recreation in the library. 
 
 And what was he doing all that time ? Learning 
 to speak his own name with Mrs. Warren. Again 
 to be taught by a woman ! This was a bitter pill, 
 but nicely sugared over by kindness. 
 
 " Clarence," said she, u I want to save you from 
 ridicule. Jack Jimson is ready to break out in his 
 coarse haw, haw, haw ! every time you open your 
 lips." 
 
 " I don't mind Jack Jimthon, that" said Clar- 
 
HARVEY AMADQRE. 29 
 
 ence, snapping his delicate white finger and 
 thumb. 
 
 " But you must mind me. I do not wish to have 
 you ridiculous, and you make yourself so by your 
 baby-talk. You must learn to speak your own 
 name, EOSQ ; " and little Mrs. Warren rolled the E 
 like a Bourdeaux Frenchman. 
 
 " Thwothe," said Clarence. 
 
 Over and over again the persistent teacher re 
 peated the word from day to day ; but finding her 
 pupil made little progress, she tried the simpler 
 word rat. Her perseverance was rewarded ; for 
 at the end of the week, her pupil, who had made a 
 tremendous effort, had at last succeeded in rolling 
 the E to him the first step on the mountain 
 Difficulty. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 HARVEY AMADOKE. 
 
 ALTHOUGH Mrs. Warren had kept Clarence from 
 the school-room, and had asked him as few ques 
 tions as possible at table, through the mimicry of 
 Jack Jimson he had become an object of curiosity 
 and of ridicule to every boy in the school. His 
 sobriquet on the playground was u Clanthe Wothe, 
 the dolly-boy." 
 
30 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 At the end of the week another boarder arrived, 
 whom Mr. Warren introduced at the tea-table as 
 Harvey Amadore. A right pleasant face had Har 
 vey Amadore. His hazel eyes were just the color 
 of his wavy hair, and his clear, ruddy complexion 
 betokened perfect health. His large mouth, which 
 was seldom entirely closed, displayed a set of clean, 
 handsome teeth, and his broad chin and ample fore 
 head added a strongly intellectual character to a 
 countenance strikingly expressive of great humor 
 and a genial disposition. With all her penetration, 
 Mrs. Warren felt there was something about this 
 new boy that, at the first glance, she did not under 
 stand. 
 
 Clarence was glad that the new-comer's seat was 
 on his side of the table, and drew from it the 
 pleasing inference that he would be on his side in 
 more ways than one. 
 
 The next day was Sunday. The boys sat in the 
 pew with Mrs. Warren, directly in front of the 
 pulpit. Harvey brought his own prayer-book, 
 much worn, but apparently carefully preserved, for 
 it was covered with calico. This amused the two 
 boys at the end of the pew, and induced Clarence 
 to make the comparison between that and his own 
 new prayer-book, with its purple velvet binding 
 and gilt clasps. 
 
 While Harvey Amadore was intently listening, 
 and devoutly responding to the Litany, Jack and 
 
HARVEY AMADORE. 31 
 
 Stackpole were holding a whispered consultation, 
 the result of which was, a piece of tobacco placed 
 upon Harvey's prayer-book. Harvey shook it off 
 indignantly. He had scarcely recovered from the 
 shock induced by this irreverent interruption, when 
 a piece of candy was placed upon his prayer-book 
 by Clarence, his neighbor on the other side. He 
 returned it, and whispered to Clarence, "Please 
 don't trouble me." 
 
 It was some time before Harvey could compose 
 his mind, and bring back his wandering thoughts. 
 He listened to the sermon, however, with great 
 interest, in spite of the restlessness of his right 
 hand neighbors, and the loud breathing of Clarence, 
 who was taking a comfortable nap. Mrs. Warren 
 was afraid to awaken him, lest he should speak out 
 and disturb her good husband. 
 
 On the way home, Harvey and Clarence walked 
 together. The former was dressed in a suit of 
 stout gray cloth, and Clarence contrasted his own 
 fine clothing with that of his companion with great 
 satisfaction. 
 
 Clarence was perfumed with otto of roses, musk, 
 and mille-fleurs. The perfume had been sickening 
 to Harvey in church, and now, even in the open 
 air, it was offensive to his olfactory nerves. 
 
 u You are fond of perfumes, I perceive," said 
 Harvey. " Musk is particularly disagreeable to 
 
32 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 " Ith it? Then I won't uthe it any mo'," replied 
 Clarence. 
 
 " You are very kind," said Harvey. 
 
 " I thould like to be kind to tkomething, even 
 a rat" 
 
 This was said with such startling emphasis on 
 the last word, that Harvey, surprised and much 
 amused, looked eagerly into the face of his com 
 panion. The expression was not silly, and it was 
 kindly. 
 
 "You did not mean to call me a rat? I hope 
 we shall be good friends," said Harvey ; " but 
 don't offer me candy in church ; it disturbs me. 
 Not so much, however, as tobacco odious, dis 
 gusting tobacco." 
 
 " We' not allowed to chew tobacco aw to thmoke 
 thegars here," said Clarence ; " they do, both," 
 turning his head around, to see if the other boys 
 were near. 
 
 They were some distance behind. 
 
 "Well, we will try to keep the rules of the 
 school. I am for obedience to authority. We 
 shall be a great deal happier if we try to do right. 
 We must help each other." 
 
 " How old be you?" asked Clarence. 
 
 " I am fourteen." 
 
 " I am thirteen." A bright color flushed his 
 face, and the boy, delighted that he had overcome 
 one difficulty, repeated, with exultation, "THIR 
 TEEN." 
 
HARVEY AMJ1DORE. 33 
 
 They had now arrived at the gate of the par 
 sonage. 
 
 Jack and Stackpole, as they walked home 
 together, were discussing the new scholar. 
 
 " He looks as if he might be a right jolly fel 
 low," said Jack ; " but he don't act like one." 
 
 "Why not?" asked the toady, Stackpole Clap. 
 
 " He threw off the cud of tobacco as if it had 
 been a rattlesnake. Then he was so awful devout. 
 We will smoke out the young hypocrite. I'll war 
 rant you he expects to recommend himself to Mrs. 
 Warren and her deary by his pious ways at 
 church. But we'll make him show another face. 
 No hypocrites for me." 
 
 " Nor for me, either," responded Stackpole. 
 
 " As for dolly-boy, we shall have fun enough 
 with him to-morrow, for he is going to join our 
 class in school. Think of that ! OUT class of big 
 boys. We'll hustle him." 
 
 "So we will. Our class? Who would have 
 thought it? We'll hustle him" said Toady. 
 
 " Come, we must hurry on. I shouldn't wonder, 
 now, if the new boy should take a fancy to that 
 fine-as-a-fiddle boy, just because he is so much bet 
 ter dressed than himself. They are, excepting on 
 the outside, animals of the same sort, soft, soft, 
 don't you think so?" 
 
 " Yes, I do indeed," was the quick reply ; " very 
 
 soft," 
 
 3 
 
34 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 " Well, now, on second thoughts, I don't think 
 so. They are no more alike than a pea and a 
 pumpkin." 
 
 " Ain't they? So they ain't ! " muttered Toady, 
 who was fairly caught, and had to whiffle round 
 like a weathercock in a high wind. 
 
 Foolish, wicked boys, thus to spend the blessed 
 hours of the Lord's day. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 MISCHIEF BREWING. 
 
 Letter from Clarence Rose to Mrs. Rose : 
 
 RACEVILLE, September 20, 18. 
 
 DEAR MAMMA : I can say Rat. I can say Rose. 
 Mr. Warren had the dentist to examine my teeth, 
 and the surgeon to look at my throat, palate, &c. 
 They said they were all right, and nothing pre 
 vented my speaking like other boys, if I would 
 only try. Mrs. Warren has taken great pains with 
 me, and rolled her tongue for a whole week to 
 teach me how to speak. I thought I should tie my 
 tongue into a knot, I tried so hard to roll the R ; 
 but I finally succeeded. Wasn't it kind in Mrs. 
 Warren to keep me out of school till I did? I 
 
MISCHIEF BREWINQ. 35 
 
 don't cry, now, after I am in bed at night, as I did 
 when I first came here only now and then. 
 
 I am in school with the other boys now. You 
 ought to see what a nice school-room we have ; it 
 is carpeted with a pretty green and brown carpet, 
 and the desks are of black walnut, covered with 
 green cloth. All round the room are hung maps 
 and pictures. The windows look out on a garden, 
 which has in it dahlias, tuberoses, china-asters, and 
 several other flowers in bloom. 
 
 The school-room is in one wing of the building, 
 and in the other wing, to match, are our bed-rooms, 
 four of them, all on the first floor. It seems as 
 though these two wings had been added to the par 
 sonage just for us boys. 
 
 I thank you, dear mamma, for teaching me to 
 write and to spell. We don't spell out, but write 
 on our slates the words, just as I used to at home. 
 Every spelling lesson of mine has been O. K. 
 Mine was the only slate that had no mistake. I 
 thought how much pains you had taken with my 
 spelling and definitions. 
 
 My box of cakes, candies, and sweetmeats was 
 quite forgotten, till, the other night, I asked Mrs. 
 Warren for it. I told her what was in it, and she 
 said I had better make a feast for the boys in the 
 school-room, than to go by myself and " guzzle 
 down goodies like a glutton." Wasn't that funny ? 
 She is very funny. So we knocked open the box, 
 and O, what lots of goodies ! 
 
36 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 We had a jolly time in the library I, and Jack, 
 and Stackpole, and the new boy. Thomas, the 
 waiter, brought in saucers, spoons, &c. I carried 
 a saucer of your nice strawberry preserves, and 
 some of your pound-cakes, to Mrs. Warren. I did 
 not make myself sick, and I never enjoyed myself 
 more in all my life. The boys thought it was to 
 celebrate the arrival of Harvey Amadore, the new 
 boy. Do you know the Amadores ? The boys call 
 him a Trojan. He wears plain gray clothes, but I 
 think they were made by a fashionable tailor, they 
 fit so nicely. I am in the same class with him in 
 English studies. We have ten day-scholars in our 
 school ; and Jack Jimson is the bully of the school. 
 I don't like Stackpole Clap ; he sniggers, and winks 
 at Jack, every time I speak. He is as mean as 
 dirt, and as dirty as mean. 
 
 Tell papa I can say Rat and ROSE, and give my 
 love to him. I think he did well to send me here. 
 I hope you don't feel lonely. I don't like to be 
 laughed at ; do you, dear mamma? I wonder why 
 the boys call me dolly-boy. They never did in 
 New York; though at the party they did call me 
 little Wainbow. Dolly, or not dolly, I am 
 Your affectionate son, 
 
 CLARENCE ROSE. 
 
 P. S. Tell Pat I haven't forgot how nicely he 
 picked niy pocket. Whenever I see my purse, I 
 think of him, with many thanks. 
 
MISCHIEF BREWING. 37 
 
 
 
 The new boy, Harvey Amadore, was already far 
 advanced in Latin and Greek, and was really en 
 joying Cicero and Xenophon ; but his English 
 studies had been much neglected. Clarence had 
 the laugh at Harvey when he saw, in one of his 
 exercises, women spelt wimmen, and candidate 
 spelt handy dait. 
 
 " We won't laugh at each other," said Harvey. 
 " I will try to correct my spelling, and you your 
 pronunciation. We will help each other." 
 
 " Agreed. There, I thaid agreed," said Clar 
 ence, exultiugly. 
 
 On the play-ground, one day, Jack Jimson called 
 Harvey Amadore aside, and said, 
 
 " I wonder how you can be so intimate with that 
 silly little monkey Wothy Pothy, as we call 
 him. You might be one of ws, if you chose." 
 
 "And what are you?" asked Harvey, with a 
 smile. 
 
 u Jolly boys, every one," replied Jack, drawing 
 up his tall, thin person, and holding his arms 
 akimbo. 
 
 " None are merrier than I," said Harvey. 
 
 " That's the mischief of it. You can play shin- 
 ney and football with the best of us, and beat us, 
 too ; but somehow you don't seem to be of us. 
 We have rare sport with some of the day-scholars. 
 They tell us all that is going on in the village. 
 There is a queer old lady, liviug all by herself, who 
 
38 TRUE MAJVLLYESS. 
 
 has some fine turkeys all ready for market. We 
 are going to borrow one, and roast it in the woods, 
 to-night. We shall have a glorious time. Will 
 you go with us ? " 
 
 Harvey could scarcely wait till Jack finished 
 speaking ; then he burst forth, vehemently, u Steal 
 a turkey ! Break the eighth commandment ! I 
 am astonished ! " 
 
 " O, you are a green one! We have taken a 
 chicken once, and eggs again and again; and old 
 Debby has never missed them." 
 
 " But you have enough to eat, surely, at Mr. 
 Warren's." 
 
 "Well, yes; but it's the fun of the thing, 
 and having a good time in the woods. Now, you 
 won't be so mean as to tell Mr. Warren, Harvey 
 Amadore ? " 
 
 " I think it would be my duty to do so," was the 
 quick reply. 
 
 " Woe to all telltales ! The whole school would 
 turn against you, and you would have no peace of 
 your life," said Jack. 
 
 " Bat," said Harvey, " if you break into the 
 woman's house, it will be burglary, as well as theft." 
 
 " No, it won't be either. The turkeys arc in a 
 shed, back of the house ; and we mean to pay the 
 old soul for them some time or other." 
 
 After a few moments' hesitation, Harvey said he 
 would not tell Mr. Warren. 
 
MISCHIEF BREWING. 39 
 
 " Nor dolly-boy, either?" 
 
 " If you mean Clarence Rose, I will not tell him 
 of your wicked intention. I should be sorry to 
 have him know that such bad things could be done 
 by any of his schoolmates." 
 
 " You set up for a preacher ; do you? A thresh 
 ing would do you good. I have half a mind to 
 give it to you now ; " and, suiting the action to the 
 word, Jack doubled up his big fist and shook it 
 before Harvey's face. 
 
 Harvey was a stout, muscular boy, accustomed 
 to gymnastics and other athletic exercises, and of a 
 quick temper. Sudden as a flash, he seized Jack 
 by the waist, tripped him up, and the tall fellow 
 lay sprawling on the ground. 
 
 The partisans of Jack, knowing his object in 
 having a private talk with Harvey, had been watch 
 ing at a distance, anxious to know what would be 
 the result. Great was their astonishment to see 
 their leader, the bully of the school, laid prostrate 
 on the ground. All the boys rushed to the scene 
 of action, and as soon as Jack was on his feet, they 
 cried, "At him, Jack give it to him, right and 
 left ! " Jack squared off to give Harvey a blow. 
 " ' Strike, but hear me/ as said one of the old 
 philosophers," said Harvey, now perfectly cool and 
 self-collected. Another person had witnessed the 
 encounter, and now stepped between the combatants. 
 
 "How is this!" exclaimed Mr. Warren. 
 
40 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 u Fighting on the play-ground ! Harvey Amadore, 
 why did you throw John Jimson to the ground ? I 
 had hoped better things of you." 
 
 " He insulted and threatened me," replied Har 
 vey ; " and I let temper get the better of me, and 
 threw him down." 
 
 " And, Jimson, how did you provoke the attack? " 
 
 Jack was sullen and silent. 
 
 " Answer me at once," said Mr. Warren. 
 " How did you provoke Harvey?" 
 
 " I was saucy to him, and threatened to give him 
 a threshing," blurted out the bully. 
 
 " Well, then, beg Harvey's pardon, at once," 
 said the master. 
 
 " He ought to beg mine," said Jack, pouting his 
 big lips. 
 
 u You were the first offender ; you ought to make 
 the first acknowledgment," replied Mr. "Warren, 
 decidedly. 
 
 " Mr. Amadore, I beg your pardon, and grant 
 your grace, &c., &c.," said Jack. 
 
 u I am sorry and ashamed to have been so hasty 
 and so angry. I trust you'll forgive me, Jack, 
 and you, too, Mr. Warren. I have a fiery temper, 
 not always under my control," said Harvey, whose 
 anger had passed like a falling star, leaving no 
 trace behind. 
 
 Mr. Warren regarded the frank countenance of 
 the noble boy with admiration, and said, 
 
THE BLACK BEAR. 41 
 
 " I hope you will learn to control your temper, 
 Harvey ; and you. Jack Jimson, never say a saucy 
 word to Harvey again, or threaten any one on the 
 play-ground. I must have peace and brotherly 
 kindness among my boys. Remember, Harvey, 
 1 He that ruleth his spirit is greater than he that 
 taketh a city.' " 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE BLACK BEAR. 
 
 HARVEY AMADORE was troubled in conscience. 
 Ought he to allow the boys to commit the threat 
 ened theft? Whom should he consult? He had 
 promised not to tell Mr. Warren. 
 
 He at last resolved to learn where Debby lived, 
 and tell her not to put her turkeys where they could 
 be purloined. 
 
 At tea time the evening after the scuffle in the 
 play-ground, Mr. Warren was absent. Mrs. War 
 ren said he had gone to pass the night with a cleri 
 cal friend in a neighboring village. 
 
 The boys, as usual, staid some time with Mrs. 
 Warren after tea, and then, as they were about to 
 leave for the library, she said to Harvey, " I will 
 give you a spelling lesson this evening, if you prefer 
 it to any other amusement." 
 
42 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 " Thank you," said Harvey ; "I do prefer it to 
 anything else I could do just now ; for Mr. War 
 ren says I must not study Greek or Latin till I can 
 spell my own language correctly." 
 
 As soon as the other boys had left the room, 
 Mrs. Warren commenced the spelling lesson. 
 
 " Spell turkey" said she. 
 
 " Turky." 
 
 " No turkey. Form the plural now.''' 
 
 " Turkies." 
 
 " No turkeys. Now spell Dcbly" 
 
 Harvey opened wide his large hazel eyes. Mrs. 
 Warren laughed merrily, and said, " Now spell 
 thieves." 
 
 Harvey was too much surprised to spell, and 
 Mrs. Warren said, " I will come directly to the 
 point. I walked witli my husband to the station 
 this afternoon. On my return, I was fatigued, and 
 sat down to rest on a large stone by the wayside. 
 There was a high board-fence behind me, which 
 enclosed the grounds of a farmer, who sends his 
 son to our school. I immediately recognized the 
 voice of Jack Jimson, who was consulting about a 
 raid upon Debby Hobbs's turkeys. She lives just 
 by the Monkton woods, and the time appointed for 
 their wicked spree was eleven o'clock to-night. 
 Now tell me frankly all you know about it, Har 
 vey. From what I could learn, Jack was afraid 
 Harvey Amadore would betray them, and having 
 
THE, BLACK BEAR. 43 
 
 learned that Mr. Warren would be absent to-night, 
 he thought it best to hurry matters to a conclusion." 
 
 " I know very little more about their plan than 
 you do. It was my intention to warn the woman 
 to take good care of her turkeys ; but I am too late 
 for that. They intend to have a barbecue in the 
 woods to roast the turkey. I doubt if they 
 would be able to eat it, unless they like smoked tur 
 key," said Harvey, laughing. 
 
 " We will catch them ! " exclaimed young Mrs. 
 Warren, clapping her small hands with real girlish 
 glee. " My plan is this. After the boys have gone 
 to bed, or pretended to go, I will walk down to 
 Debby's with Clarence Rose. Find an opportunity 
 to send him to me before he goes to his room. 
 You must watch for their leaving, and soon after 
 go with Thomas to the woods. I will instruct 
 Thomas just what to do, and you will follow his 
 directions. Meantime, you must be careful not to 
 excite suspicion when you join Jack and Stackpole 
 in the library. Go, now ; you have had your spell 
 ing lesson." 
 
 It was the first week in October. The evening 
 was cool, but not a cloud veiled the bright hemi 
 sphere. The silver moon "sweet regent of the 
 sky " followed the king of day to his western re 
 treat, leaving night to be ruled by the glittering 
 stars. Mrs. Warren and Clarence, about nine 
 o'clock, went to Debby's cottage. 
 
44 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 Harvey sat by the one window of his small room, 
 intently listening for the first movement of Jack 
 Jimson, whose room was next to his own. The 
 part of the house occupied by the boys had been 
 added to the main building ; it was a single story, 
 and the windows were only about half a dozen feet 
 from the ground. 
 
 About half past ten o'clock two windows were 
 carefully opened, and two boys sprang out of them, 
 and scampered away as if for dear life. Stackpole 
 joined the fire-makers, while Jack made his way to 
 Debby's cottage. 
 
 " Don't make a breath of noise," whispered Jack 
 to his companion, the farmer's boy, as they ap 
 proached the cottage. 
 
 The shed in which the lone woman kept her tur 
 keys, when they were ready for market, was only a 
 few steps from the kitchen door, and directly opposite. 
 
 Slyly, noiselessly, glided Jack into the shed, and 
 reaching up seized a turkey by the neck. Suddenly 
 his feet were caught in a slip-noose of rope, and 
 a strong pull from the three in the kitchen brought 
 him at full length into the cottage, the turkey still 
 IQ hand. 
 
 Debby was a strong, masculine-looking woman. 
 With the end of the rope she gave Jack several 
 severe whacks across his shoulders. 
 
 He shrieked, and let the turkey slip from his hand. 
 
 " Now you may go, wicked boy that you are," 
 
THE BLACK BEAR. 45 
 
 said Debby, while Mrs. Warren and Clarence 
 laughed heartily. 
 
 " Go. I see now who has stolen my chicken 
 and eggs, and pay for them you must and shall," 
 2ried she, furiously. 
 
 Jack tried to rise, but the rope was still about his 
 feet. 
 
 " Don't you feel mean," continued Debby, as he 
 tried to extricate himself, " great, big, unmannerly, 
 lubberly boy?" 
 
 " I'll pay you, I'll pay you ; let me go," cried Jack. 
 
 " Let me see. Eggs, sixty cents for three score ; 
 chicken, forty cents just one dollar. Pay me 
 and you may go." 
 
 " I haven't the money with me," whimpered the 
 bully. 
 
 " I'll lend it to you," said Clarence, taking a 
 bright dollar from his green purse. 
 
 "That's right, Clarence," said Mrs. Warren. 
 " Now, Jack, we'll go home." 
 
 "Mayn't I go and speak to the other boys?" 
 asked Jack, dolorously. 
 
 " No. I prefer to have your company," said 
 Mrs. Warren ; and the three, bidding Debby " good 
 night," left the cottage together. 
 
 About a quarter of an hour after Jack and Stack- 
 pole had started on their mischievous expedition, 
 Thomas, a steady, honest servant, much relied 
 upon by Mr. Warren, tapped at the window where 
 Harvey was on the qui vive. 
 
46 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 u What is that across your shoulders," asked 
 Harvey, as he joined Thomas. 
 
 " Why, it's a big buffalo skin we used on our 
 sleigh last winter," Avas the reply. 
 
 "What are you going to do with it, Thomas?" 
 eagerly asked Harvey. 
 
 " You will see when we get near them, young 
 scamps. We must go very softly, and keep well 
 behind the trees, till we come near their camp." 
 
 As they approached the wood, Thomas said, " I 
 see a smoke rising. They'll have tough work to 
 get up a roasting fire. But they really have got up 
 a blaze," continued he, in a whisper, as they came 
 near the spot where Stackpole and a half dozen 
 other boys were piling dry branches upon a fire, 
 which crackled and sent forth a fitful flame. 
 
 " Now's the time. Stand behind that big tree, 
 Master Harvey." 
 
 So saying, Tom spread the big buffalo skin over 
 himself, and dropped upon all fours. Then he 
 crept softly along till he came near the group about 
 the fire, when he set up a tremendous growl. The 
 boys turned towards the place from which the 
 ominous sound proceeded, and there, by the light 
 of the fire, they beheld, as they thought, a big 
 black bear. 
 
 The guilty are cowardly. What a scampering 
 and shrieking ! Some ran one w r ay and some 
 another. The bear pursued Stackpole, growling 
 
THE BLACK BEAR. 47 
 
 fearfully, till the boy stumbled and fell. Just as 
 the bear reached him, and was sniffing about his 
 head, a voice cried, " Mithter Bear, don't take off 
 hith thcalp ; pay don't ! " 
 
 Mrs. Warren, Jack, and Clarence had just ar 
 rived to witness the scene. - 
 
 Stackpole was too much frightened even to recog 
 nize the lisping voice of Clarence. He verily be 
 lieved it was the horrible bear that Jack had de 
 scribed. 
 
 Thomas threw off the buffalo-skin, and picking 
 up Stackpole, said, " Stand up on your two feet. 
 I've done up bear pretty well ; haven't I, Mrs. War 
 ren." Meantime, Harvey had been busily occu 
 pied in pulling apart the branches on the fire, and 
 trying to extinguish it, for it was in danger of 
 spreading, the grass and leaves being quite dry. 
 
 All were now obliged to aid in stamping out the 
 flames, as they crinkled along ; and the fire would 
 have been a very dangerous one, if it had not been 
 for Harvey's presence of mind and active exertions. 
 
 The clock struck one just as the party from the 
 parsonage reached home. 
 
 Stackpole had scarcely recovered his wits, and 
 Jack Jimson slunk away to his own room, morti 
 fied and provoked, but not penitent. 
 
48 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 EEPROOF. 
 
 THE next day, when Mr. Warren returned home, 
 Mrs. Warren gave him a laughable account of the 
 doings of the preceding night. 
 
 "My dear," said he, " I think in this case pre 
 vention would have been better than cure. You 
 might have taken authority upon yourself in my 
 absence, arid given those boys a severe lecture." 
 
 " But the other boys, the day-scholars, would 
 have done the mischief without Jack and Stack- 
 pole," urged the young wife. 
 
 "You might have sent Thomas to give Debby 
 warning," suggested the husband, gravely. 
 
 " Now don't take it so seriously, Albertus ; boys 
 will be boys, and it may be well to overlook the 
 offence." 
 
 " Boys will be boys. How frequently that means, 
 sinners will be sinners. No excuse, however, is it 
 for the sins they commit." 
 
 " I am sorry to have displeased you," said the 
 little lady, with tears in her eyes. 
 
 " Do not make yourself unhappy about the affair, 
 Maria. Yours was an error in judgment, pardon 
 able in one so young and inexperienced ; but I 
 
REPROOF. 49 
 
 trust you will, in future, by a more distant reserve, 
 gain and keep the respect of our pupils. I like to 
 have you lively and bright ; but at the same time, 
 you should maintain the dignity of a matron and a 
 clergyman's wife." 
 
 " And you will forgive me, and the boys, too, 
 there's a dear good man," said she, in her most 
 winning way. " They need not know that you 
 have heard a word about it," she continued, with 
 an appealing look that the fond husband could not 
 resist. 
 
 " Well, be it so. I must not even reprimand 
 Thomas for the part he took in the farce say you 
 so, wife ? " 
 
 " Indeed, you must not ; for he acted entirely 
 according to my orders. Clarence had told me a 
 wondrous tale of a bear, related to him by Jack 
 Jimson. On that hint I acted." 
 
 Mrs. Warren, whose feelings were as quick and 
 variable as the motions of a wind-tossed leaf, now 
 laughed heartily, as she thought of the appearance 
 and fierce growling of the redoubtable Thomas. 
 
 Mr. Warren could not be as severe upon his 
 pretty young wife as he thought her enjoyment of 
 the last night's adventures demanded, and wisely 
 decided that he would keep a stricter watch over 
 the boys than he had done hitherto. 
 
 Mrs. Warren had a long talk with the foar boys 
 in the library that evening. She assumed a won- 
 4 
 
50 TRUE' MANLINESS. 
 
 derfully dignified manner, and told them she had 
 come to give them a severe lecture, which was to 
 be their punishment. u That is," said she, " the 
 punishment justly merited by Jack and Stackpole." 
 
 "It is punishment enough to be associated with 
 such mean fellows as Harvey Amadore and Clanth 
 Wothe,." said Jack, impertinently. " I always de 
 spised telltales." 
 
 " So did I," echoed the toady. 
 
 It was somewhat difficult for the young matron 
 to maintain her assumed dignity. She was ready 
 to laugh ; but controlling herself, she said, 
 
 " I "suppose you are so honorable that you don't 
 like eavesdroppers, either. But I, unfortunately, 
 must confess to the odious character. I happened, 
 accidentally, to overhear your whole plan for the 
 last night's raid ; and, therefore, you must not ac 
 cuse either Harvey or Clarence of being a telltale. 
 I told them much more than they knew about the 
 affair from you. Indeed, you must be very sorry 
 for what has happened, and be more circumspect for 
 the future." 
 
 Having thus discharged what she believed to be 
 her duty, Mrs. Warren went to her husband's study 
 to give him an account of her success. He was 
 much amused, but shook his head doubtfully when 
 she boasted of her grave and almost overwhelming 
 dignity of manner. 
 
 The guilty boys wondered much from day to day 
 
REPROOF. 51 
 
 why they received no reprimand from Mr. Warren. 
 At length they concluded that Mrs. Warren had 
 her own private reasons for not informing the mas 
 ter of the affair. Occasionally, on the play-ground, 
 Jack and Stackpole would be saluted by some of 
 the other boys with a growl, which made them very 
 angry. It was evident that every boy in the school 
 knew all about the adventures of that memorable 
 evening, for, besides growling, they sometimes gob 
 bled like a turkey-cock. Bully Jack seemed to have 
 quite forgotten the dollar Clarence loaned to him 
 for Debby ; but his being a debtor probably ac 
 counted for his keeping very shy of Clarence for a 
 while, and for his desisting from teasing the deli 
 cate boy, as he had previously done a forbear 
 ance that was very gratifying to Clarence. 
 
 This forbearance, however, was not of long dura 
 tion, judging from the following letter from Clar 
 ence to Mrs. Rose : 
 
 RACEVILLE, November 10, IS. 
 
 DEAR MAMMA : I. wish I didn't cry so easily. 
 You know I can't help it. I think that is one rea 
 son why the boys tease me so cruelly. 
 
 The other night it was last week I was in 
 bed fast asleep, when suddenly a shower of cold 
 water came upon my face, and startled me out of 
 bed. My window by some means had been opened 
 far enough to put in a big syringe. Jack Jimson 
 and Stackpole Clap were spirting the water over 
 
52 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 me ; and when I begged them not to do it, they only 
 kept on the more. They stood on a couple of 
 chairs below the window, and could look in upon 
 me, for it was moonlight. I begged them to stop, 
 over and over again, and couldn't help crying ; but 
 Jack only said, u Don't waste so much salt water 
 when you have plenty of fresh water." 
 
 I said, " I shall tell Mr. Warren of this." 
 
 Jack said, u If you do, it will be the worse for 
 you. We'll torment you the more." And Stack- 
 pole added, " Yes, we'll worry your very life out if 
 you complain of us." 
 
 Then they went off, and I, shivering and shaking, 
 lighted my candle, for I have matches in my room, 
 and got on some dry night-clothes. Then I 
 wrapped myself up in a blanket that wasn't wet, 
 and after a while I got to sleep. The next morning 
 I had a cold in my head, but to-day I feel quite 
 well. 
 
 I cry in school sometimes, and then the boys 
 make up hideous faces at me, and draw caricatures 
 of me with what they call my " square mouth." 
 It seems, when I cry, that I open my mouth wide, 
 and in some queer shape. 
 
 Don't you think, dear mamma, they are awfully 
 cruel ? 
 
 I don't know what I should do if Harvey Ama- 
 dore were not here. He protects me as much as 
 he can ; but I am afraid to tell him of a great 
 
REPROOF. 53 
 
 many things, for fear they should know it and make 
 the matter worse. 
 
 The day-scholars almost all make fun of me, and 
 on the play-ground they will not choose me when 
 they take sides for base-ball or shinney. They say 
 I am such a gal-boy they don't want me ; and so I 
 am obliged to stand on one side looking on, and 
 feeling like a little fool. 
 
 I do wish you would let me come home. It 
 don't seem to me that I can stay here any longer. 
 I've thought a hundred times that I would run away. 
 
 Do ask papa if I may come home. I really don't 
 care whether I get an education or not. You know, 
 dear mamma, we are rich enough, and I think I 
 already know enough for a gentleman ; and I should 
 like to be a merchant, and make money, as papa has, 
 and then I am sure nobody would laugh at me. 
 
 Now, please, dear mamma, ask papa if I may 
 come home and go into his counting-room. What 
 is the use of so much learning unless I meant to be 
 a minister or a lawyer ? Do coax papa to let me 
 give up my studies. I know you will feel very 
 sorry for your poor CLARENCE. 
 
 P. S. I wish you would send me a nice parcel 
 of cake and candies. We have plenty to eat, but 
 sometimes, when I feel very sad, I should like 
 something sweet and good, especially when I am in 
 my own room at night. 
 
54 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 MORE MISCHIEF. 
 
 CLARENCE stood in need of sympathy, and yet so 
 hard-hearted were the boys, generally, that he re 
 ceived very little. To Harvey, under an injunction 
 of secrecy, he communicated the affair about which 
 he had written to his mother. They were sitting 
 together in Harvey's room, when they had the fol 
 lowing chat : 
 
 " Now, Clarence, let me advise you not to allow 
 the boys to see that you mind their teasing. Put 
 on a brave face, and try to have a brave heart, too. 
 Don't let them see you cry, if you can possibly help 
 it. They enjoy calling you cry-baby. I am really 
 attached to you, Clarence, and if it were right I 
 would fight every one of them for insulting you, 
 because I consider you my friend. I have prom 
 ised Mr. Warren not to get into a quarrel with 
 Jack and Stackpole ; and I know it would be 
 wrong ; but the old Adam is so strong, or, rather, 
 the old Cain, that I am tempted to give them a 
 good drubbing." 
 
 " I with you would," said Clarence, doubling up 
 his small fist and grinding his pretty teeth. 
 
 Harvey laughingly replied, " You would do it if 
 
MORE MISCHIEF. 55 
 
 you could, it seems ; but no, Clarence," he con 
 tinued, " that is not the proper way to resent an 
 injury ; it is contrary to my principles and to my 
 better feelings. But rely upon me as your friend, 
 and I promise to do all for you as a friend that lies in 
 my power, without doing what I know to be wrong." 
 
 " But they do fight in English cools" urged Clar 
 ence. 
 
 4 ' It is a barbarous custom," was the reply, "and 
 they have fags, too, whom they treat unmercifully. 
 You would fare worse in one of those large English 
 schools than you do here. Very few boys are as 
 comfortable at school as we are there are so few 
 of us, and Mr. and Mrs. Warren are so very kind." 
 
 " I think it a cruel thing anyhow, to thend a boy 
 away from home," said Clarence, dolorously. 
 
 " Why, we have got to mingle with all sorts of 
 men when we get to be men ourselves, and we 
 should not be fit for the strife the rough and 
 tumble of the world if we were always coddled 
 up at home. Come, come, as Longfellow says, 
 
 ' In the world's broad field of battle, 
 
 In the bivouac of life, 
 Be not like dumb, driven cattle 
 Be a hero in the strife.' " 
 
 " I never thall be a hero, only one like Mithter 
 Horner, ' who sat in the corner/ " said Clarence, 
 merrily. 
 
56 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 "And you had rather pull plums out of a 
 mince-pie, and cry, ' What a big boy arn I?' than 
 attend to your studies here, although you may have 
 some rough treatment, and become a strong and a 
 good man. Every man who is truly wise and truly 
 good is, in my opinion, a hero." 
 
 Here the bell rang for evening prayers, and the 
 boys hastened to the parlor. Neither Jack nor 
 Stackpole was there, and after waiting some min 
 utes, Mr. Warren commenced reading a chapter in 
 the Bible, and before it was finished the two boys 
 came stealing in, with a guilty look. It was evi 
 dent they had been in some mischief. And so they 
 had. 
 
 For some time past they had been planning how 
 they could break up the intimacy between Harvey 
 and Clarence. They could not, bad and mean as 
 they were they could not but respect Harvey 
 Amadore. He was an excellent scholar. They 
 knew him to be brave. Not only had he physical 
 courage, and, if he thought it right, could fight like 
 a young savage, but he had moral courage. When 
 he thought himself doing his duty, ridicule had no 
 more effect upon him than it would have upon a 
 bright star. He was as much above it as that 
 same star a rare thing, especially among boys. 
 Besides, he was generous, a very popular virtue, 
 and remarkably good natured, though quick tem 
 pered. With the day-scholars he was a universal 
 
MORE MISCHIEF. 67 
 
 favorite, and under the broad shelter of his friend 
 ship Clarence was protected from many an insult. 
 
 Now, Jack and Stackpolc determined to break 
 up this friendship. They knew they could not do it 
 by talking against Clarence, or by striving more 
 than ever to render him ridiculous. And so they 
 contrived an infamous plan for the purpose. 
 
 They wrote a letter, addressed to Mrs. Rose, in 
 which Harvey was mentioned as a hypocrite. 
 
 "He pretends," they wrote, "to be very pious, 
 and Mr. and Mrs. Warren don't see through him ; 
 but I, who know him better, I do. He is all out 
 side show. I keep on good terms with him, be 
 cause it is for my interest. He is a sort of protec 
 tion to me, because he is so much bigger and 
 stronger than I am ; but as for believing in his 
 religion, I say, mamma, I don't believe in it at all ; 
 and when I can get a chance I shall shake him off, 
 for I do despise hypocrites, or hypricots, as you 
 know I used to write the word. 
 
 " I believe, too, Harvey is of very mean origin, 
 not a bit of a gentleman, as I am, for he wears the 
 meanest clothes that ever you saw. 
 
 "Now, dear mamma, this is a secret between our 
 selves. I would not have you let it out for the 
 world, for I must for a while longer keep on good 
 terms with the fellow. 
 
 " I am, my dear mamma, your loving 
 
 " CLARENCE." 
 
* 
 
 58 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 As soon as the boys left the library, after prayers, 
 Stackpolc followed Harvey to his room, and told 
 him that he found that letter on the play-ground, 
 and supposed it had been dropped there. It was 
 not directed, nor scaled, and for that reason he and 
 Jack Jimson had read it. Finding it concerned 
 Harvey, they decided it was best to hand it to him. 
 
 " Concerns me ! " exclaimed Harvey. 
 
 " Yes, indeed. I leave you to read it." 
 
 As there was no address upon the outside of 
 the letter, Harvey thought it might be intended for 
 him, and read it with absolute amazement. Could 
 it be possible that his friend was so despicably 
 mean and false ? The handwriting was Clarence's, 
 as well as the signature. Long did he ponder over 
 that base letter, and hours passed before he could 
 compose himself to sleep. 
 
 In the morning Harvey examined the letter more 
 carefully. He at length concluded that he would 
 offer it to Clarence without a word of explanation. 
 He did so immediately after breakfast ; and the 
 utter amazement of Clarence, on reading it, was 
 not counterfeited. It was unmistakably perfectly 
 natural. 
 
 "Who could have done it? Who could have 
 done it?" he exclaimed, his eyes filling with tears. 
 
 Harvey then told him how he had received it, 
 and the story that was told about it. 
 
 u O, what a wicked, wicked lie ! I will tell 
 
MORE MISCHIEF. 59 
 
 them tho to their faitheth," said Clarence, weeping 
 violently. " They would rob ine of my friend." 
 
 " No, Clarence, they .will not. I will accuse 
 them of this forgery, for forgery it really is. It 
 will be better for you to keep quiet about it." 
 
 " How can I ! How can I ! " sobbed the heart- 
 wounded boy. 
 
 There was always an hour for recreation before 
 school on the play-ground. 
 
 Harvey took the two villanous boys aside, and 
 said, in an assured and angry tone, 
 
 "What could have tempted you to write this 
 abominable letter?" 
 
 "I write it! How dare you accuse me?" ex 
 claimed Jack. 
 
 "Or me either?" added Stackpole, in a tremu 
 lous voice. 
 
 " Now, boys, if you don't confess it at once, I 
 will carry the letter directly to Mr. Warren, and he 
 will settle the matter with you. It is a forgery, 
 and the probability is, he will expel you from school." 
 
 Stackpole's crimson face and trembling limbs be 
 trayed his guilt, while Jack's brazen countenance 
 assumed an air of defiance. 
 
 Harvey turned from them, and took a few steps 
 towards the house, while a whispered consultation 
 was going on between the two partners in wicked 
 ness. 
 
 " Stop a minute. Let me see the letter," cried 
 Jack. 
 
60 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 Harvey said, calmly, " Not till you acknowl 
 edge that you wrote it." 
 
 " Then I'll take it from you. Hold him, Stack- 
 pole." But Stackpole held off. 
 
 " Coward ! " exclaimed Jack, looking at his com 
 peer with extreme disgust and contempt. 
 
 Harvey stood unmoved, his eye fixed upon Jack 
 boldly and resolutely. Jack knew his strength and. 
 his courage, and did not attempt to take the letter 
 from him by force. 
 
 " You acknowledge the forgery in action if not 
 in words ; why else should you be so anxious to take 
 it from me ? Besides, you have not yet learned from 
 me its contents. How guilt betrays itself ! Look 
 at Stackpole as he stands there, the very image of 
 guilt itself." 
 
 " I didn't write it ; he did," blurted out Stackpole. 
 
 " Mean, despicable fool ! " exclaimed Jack. 
 
 " Now, boys, perhaps I ought to expose you to 
 Mr. Warren ; but I am sorry for you so young 
 and so wicked. What will you come to ? I beg 
 of you to reflect upon your conduct, and to repent 
 of it. I forgive you, and so will Clarence ; but 
 you must ask forgiveness of God." 
 
 So saying, Harvey took the letter from his pock 
 et, tore it to atoms, and scattered it to the wind. 
 
 The two boys slunk away to a corner of the 
 play-ground, abashed before the courage and man 
 liness of their honest school-fellow. 
 
A SUDDEN CHANGE. 61 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 A SUDDEN CHANGE. 
 
 EARLY in December the 'boys were having their 
 first snow-balling on the play- ground. 
 
 Though wrapped up warmly, and wearing kid 
 gloves, Clarence shivered, and complained bitterly 
 of the cold. His delicate frame had not been 
 inured to hardship of any kind. 
 
 The play-ground was on one side of the parson 
 age. A large gate opened upon the main road, and. 
 from, the gate a carriage-way led to the house 
 through the grounds. A market-cart with a scrag 
 gy, miserable screw of a horse, driven by a woman, 
 entered the gate, and passing through the play 
 ground, stopped in front of the house. 
 
 " There's crow's-meat," exclaimed Jack Jimson. 
 
 " You mean the north ; but what doth the woman 
 driving the rack o' boneth look like ? " said Clar 
 ence, laughing immoderately. 
 
 " Very like a scare-crow," was the saucy reply. 
 
 The boys had now gathered in a cluster near the 
 cart, looking on with curious eyes to see what the 
 woman wanted. 
 
 " Poor creature. She muth have come to beg, 
 for there ith nothing in the cart," said Clarence. 
 
62 TRUE MAJfLIJfE&S. 
 
 " She looktli more like a beggar than anything 
 el th," added Clarence. 
 
 " She looks like a respectable woman, as she is," 
 whispered Harvey. " Do be careful not to make 
 such impertinent remarks ; she will hear you ; " then 
 stepping quickly to the side of the cart, he assisted 
 the woman to alight. 
 
 "Thank you, sir," said she ; then looking round 
 upon the group of boys, she added, " I've come for 
 my son, who is here at school with Mr. Warren." 
 
 "Your son? He is not here. There are only 
 four of us at the parsonage," said Harvey, as he 
 fastened the poor horse to a post. 
 
 Meantime, the other three had gathered to the spot. 
 
 The boys were laughing at Harvey's politeness 
 to the meanly-dressed woman. She surveyed them 
 attentively, and at length exclaimed, 
 
 "Can that be him?" pointing to Jack Jimson. 
 " I wonder if he will own his mother." 
 
 " The woman must be beside herself," thought 
 Harvey, as she advanced towards Jack, and holding 
 out her hand, said, "Are you my son?" 
 
 " A good joke ! A capital joke ! Your son, in 
 deed ! " replied Jack, with a horse-laugh, echoed 
 by Stackpole. 
 
 " My son is called Clarence Rose," said she, in 
 a faltering voice. 
 
 At this they set up a shout ; and Jack, seizing 
 Clarence by the waist, with both hands held him 
 
You arc my son, then ! " Page 03. 
 
j3 SUDDEN CHANGE. 63 
 
 high in the air, saying, " This dolly-boy is Clanth 
 Wothe." 
 
 " Set me down," shrieked Clarence. " Set me 
 down, I thay ! " 
 
 Jack placed the shivering boy on his feet, by the 
 side of the woman, who looked at him with evident 
 disappointment, as she said, 
 
 u You are my son, then. You are a pretty little 
 boy, but so very little ? Kiss your mother." 
 
 Clarence drew back frightened, and whispered to 
 Harvey, " The woman mutht be crazy." 
 
 " I must see Mr. Warren, the master, right off," 
 said she. 
 
 " Come into the house ; you have staid too 
 long in the cold already," said Harvey, kindly, 
 leading the way, and showing the stranger into the 
 parlor, while the others stood without, wondering 
 much at this mysterious affair. 
 
 " Did you ever see this woman before, Clar 
 ence?" asked Stackpole. 
 
 " Never in my life," was the reply. 
 
 " The equipage don't quite suit the style of the 
 elegant New Yorker, with his fiery-fine trappings," 
 said Jack. 
 
 At this moment Mr. Warren opened the door, 
 and called Clarence to come in. He held a letter 
 in his hand, and looked very soberly as he gave 
 another letter to Clarence. 
 
 " I ou^ht to have received these letters two or 
 
G4 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 three days since," said Mr. Warren. " They have 
 been unaccountably delayed. Take yours to the 
 library and read it by yourself, and then come to 
 me in the parlor." 
 
 Sure enough, the letter was addressed to Master 
 Clarence Rose, and read as follows : 
 
 MY DEAR BOY : You have hitherto considered 
 yourself my son, and it was not my intention to 
 have undeceived you till you came of age. But 
 misfortunes have come upon me like an armed 
 host. I am a bankrupt, not worth a dollar in the 
 world, and I must now give you up to your own 
 mother. She will come to take you to her own 
 home a few days after this reaches you. 
 
 My wife adopted you when you were not quite 
 three years old, and has been, I fear, only too 
 tender a mother to you. She has wept many hours 
 at the loss of property we have sustained, but more 
 at the necessity for giving up her petted Clarence, 
 all unfitted, as he is, for the roughness of his future 
 life. I know you will feel the change keenly, but I 
 trust you will be a good, obedient son to your poor 
 but honest mother. Your " mamma" sends tender- 
 est love and heartfelt wishes for your happiness ; 
 she will write to you herself, when her feelings 
 allow. I shall never cease to take a deep interest 
 in your welfare, my dear Clarence. 
 Faithfully yours, 
 
 SAMUEL ROSE. 
 
A SUDDEN CHANGE. 65 
 
 After reading this astounding letter, Clarence 
 was like one who had received a stunning blow 
 physically. He seemed not able to speak or to move. 
 
 Mr. Warren came to him at length, and aroused 
 him from this stupor by telling him that he must 
 make immediate preparations to leave with his 
 mother, Mrs. Paverley. She was now taking some 
 refreshment in the dining-room, and must start within 
 an hour from that time. Mr. Warren was much 
 moved at the sight of the wild distress of Clarence. 
 
 " My poor boy," said he, " it will be a great 
 change for you ; but God has ordered it, and it may 
 prove the best thing that could have befallen you. 
 It depends on yourself whether you make the best 
 use of what now seems to you adversity." 
 
 Clarence threw himself upon a sofa, hid his face, 
 and sobbed like an infant. 
 
 " Mr. Rose has written to rne," continued Mr. 
 Warren. " He has explained to me that your 
 mother was left a widow, with six children, without 
 the means of support, and, not without reluctance 
 on her part, gave you to Mrs. Rose, on condition 
 that you should be given back to your own mother, 
 if the circumstances of your adopted parents should 
 change for the worse. Mr. and Mrs Rose are 
 going to California, where he hopes to find some 
 employment. You have now a motive to exertion, 
 Clarence, and you must cheer up and go quietly 
 with your mother." 
 5 
 
66 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 Poor Clarence continued to weep without uttering 
 a word. 
 
 " Come, ray boy, there is no help for this misfor 
 tune, as you consider it. Summon up resolution, 
 and go with me to pack up your trunks." 
 
 Mr. Warren led the weeping boy to his room, 
 and soon his luggage was ready to be placed in the 
 cart. 
 
 Clarence begged Mr. Warren to let him go with 
 out taking leave of his schoolmates, to which the 
 master consented, but led him to the dining-room to 
 see Mrs. Warren, who had petted and indulged the 
 pretty boy almost as much as had Mrs. Rose. 
 
 While Mrs. Paverley was enjoying a lunch, the 
 kind young wife filled a basket with sandwiches and 
 doughnuts for refreshments on the road ; and when 
 she handed it to Clarence she wept so vehemently 
 that she could scarcely say " good by." He could 
 only sob out the word "kind kind." 
 
 " Poor little lad, he looks sickly," said his mother. 
 
 " He is only delicate, a hot-house plant, that will 
 require care and consideration. I need not tell his 
 own mother to treat him tenderly," said Mr. War 
 ren. 
 
 " I don't know what I shall do with him. He 
 just seems fit to be wrapped up in wool, like a young 
 chicken taken from the old hen," said the mother, 
 dolefully: 
 
 " He shall be wrapped in wool to-day," said Mr. 
 
A SUDDEN CHANGE. 67 
 
 Warren, smiling ; " for here is a thick, warm blan 
 ket, my good wife has provided for him." 
 
 The big trunks almost filled the market-cart. 
 There was scarcely room for the board in front on 
 which Mrs. Paverley and Clarence were seated. 
 Mr. Warren was obliged to lift the weeping boy 
 into the cart, and to put the blanket around him, 
 as he bade him a tender farewell. 
 
 The miserable horse had been well fed, and Mrs. 
 Paverley, taking the reins in her hand, started him 
 off on a full trot. 
 
 "We've got twenty mile to ride, and Patchy 
 must do his best, or we shan't be home to-night," 
 said she. " But don't cry so, my son. The gentle 
 man says you were baptized Clarence Rose, and I 
 must call you so, though your real name was Aza- 
 riah Paverley. It was hard times with me, or I 
 should not have parted with you. I had six then. 
 God has taken three of them to himself, and now I 
 have only Lucy, Peter, and you. I hope you won't 
 despise us because we are poor. You know it is 
 our heavenly Father who chooses our lot for us, 
 and he docs all things well." 
 
 Clarence had not yet spoken a word, though they 
 had now passed over half a dozen miles. 
 
 " I am afraid you are cold," continued Mrs. Pa 
 verley, drawing her thin shawl more closely around 
 her. u Say, my son, are you comfortable? " 
 
 "Yith." 
 
68 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 "What did you say?" 
 
 " I thaid yith." 
 
 Mrs. Paverley exclaimed, " Now I know it's my 
 own Azariah ; that was just his own way of speak 
 ing when he was that pretty white-headed boy. 
 Why, you are old enough to speak plain. You 
 used to say, ' I faid of Wob.' That was your 
 oldest brother, who used to tease you. Don't you 
 remember him ? " 
 
 " I do not remember Rob/' said Clarence, quite 
 glibly. 
 
 After travelling about twelve miles, the rack of 
 bones called Patchy could not be induced to move 
 faster than a walk, and finally refused to stir 
 another step. 
 
 The air grew chill ; a sudden snow flurry almost 
 blinded the eyes of the travellers, and night was 
 coming on rapidly. They were more than a mile 
 from any dwelling-house. 
 
 "What are we to do- now?" asked Clarence, 
 mournfully. 
 
 " We must let Patchy rest a while," she replied, 
 with her teeth chattering and her face blue with cold. 
 
 u You are very cold, marm ; will you have my 
 blanket wrapped around you ? " said Clarence. 
 
 " Thank you, thank you ; I'll share it with you," 
 said she, delighted with this first act of thoughtful- 
 ness from her son. 
 
 Patchy was guided to a spot protected by a large 
 
THE BROWN COTTAGE. 69 
 
 pine tree ; and soon after the comfortable arrange 
 ment with the blanket had been made, Clarence fell 
 asleep, with his head resting on his mother's 
 shoulder. 
 
 After having remained a full hour under the tree, 
 the snow flurry passed away, and the moon peered 
 out between the driving clouds. 
 
 Without awakening Clarence, Mrs. Paverley suc 
 ceeded in starting Patchy on the road. Apparently 
 the poor beast bethought himself that he was on the 
 Avay home, for he made his lean shanks move 
 swiftly over the snow-covered ground ; and when 
 Clarence awoke, it was at the door of his mother's 
 cottage. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE BROWN COTTAGE. 
 
 " WHERE am I? " cried Clarence, awaking from a 
 sound sleep. 
 
 " Home," was the reply. 
 
 A faint light shone through the small window of 
 a brown cottage. 
 
 " Home ! Can it be my home? " exclaimed the 
 poor boy. 
 
 The door of the cottage opened, and a young girl 
 appeared with a flaring candle in her hand. 
 
70 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 "Mother, is it you?" said a sweet voice. "I 
 have been so anxious about you ! Is my brother 
 with you ? " 
 
 " Yes, here he is, not more than half awake." 
 
 The poor fellow did not move after his mother 
 had alighted from the cart. There he sat, as still 
 as a snow statue. 
 
 Mrs. Paverley lifted him in her strong arms, and 
 carried him into the room which was kitchen, 
 dining-room, and parlor. She placed him on a 
 wooden bench, near a small cooking-stove, in which 
 a fire was still burning. 
 
 Clarence had never been in the dwelling of a 
 poor person since he left his home ten years before. 
 
 " Where is Peter? " asked the mother. 
 
 " Gone to bed, long ago," said Lucy. 
 
 " Rouse him up. Patchy must be fed and cared 
 for." 
 
 Clarence sat by the stove, every bone and every 
 muscle aching with the jolting he had undergone. 
 
 u You shall have some hot sage tea," said his 
 mother. 
 
 " I see Lucy has kept water hot, and potatoes, 
 too," added Mrs. Paverley, looking into the stove 
 oven. 
 
 Lucy, having called Pete, returned, and went to 
 work to have supper ready for the travellers. She 
 drew a large pine table near the stove, and spread a 
 brown cloth upon it. While thus employed she 
 said to Clarence, 
 
THE BROWN COTTAGE. 71 
 
 " You must be very tired and hungry. You had 
 a tedious journey." 
 
 There was something wonderfully soothing in 
 this sweet voice, and Clarence looked inquiringly at 
 the face of his sister. It was a lovely face, expres 
 sive of uncommon sweetness of disposition, and at 
 the same time decidedly intellectual. 
 
 Peter came bounding down the narrow staircase, 
 from the attic, and seizing the hand of Clarence 
 with his own rough and brown one, shouted, 
 
 "How are you, fellow? Yellow kid gloves. 
 Now if that ain't jolly ! " 
 
 " Pete, go instantly and take care of Patchy," 
 said the mother. 
 
 Patchy had already found his way to the barn. 
 Peter took good care of him, but left the trunks in 
 the cart. 
 
 The contents of Mrs. Warren's basket, with the 
 addition of hot potatoes, made an excellent meal, 
 which Clarence did not reject ; neither did he refuse 
 the sage tea, unpalatable as it was to his fastidious 
 taste. Peter was not averse to sharing the good 
 things, when he came in from the barn. 
 
 O / 
 
 After the refreshing supper was finished, Mrs. 
 Paverley said, cheerfully, to Lucy, " Come, my 
 child, take the Bible and read a few verses." 
 
 With that sweet, melodious voice, which seemed 
 the most suitable music for the Psalms of David, 
 Lucy read the following verses : 
 
72 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 " Bow down thine ear, O Lord ; hear me, for I 
 am poor and needy. 
 
 u Preserve my soul ; for I am holy. O thou my 
 Gk>d, save thy servant that trusteth in thee. 
 
 " Be merciful unto me, O Lord ; for I cry unto 
 thee daily. 
 
 " Rejoice the soul of thy servant ; for unto thee, O 
 Lord, do I lift up my soul. 
 
 " For thou, Lord, art good, and ready to forgive, 
 and plenteous in mercy unto all them that call upon 
 thee. 
 
 "Give ear, O Lord, unto my prayer, and attend 
 to the voice of my supplications." 
 
 The mother and daughter knelt, and Clarence 
 followed their example. The mother uttered a fer 
 vent thanksgiving for a safe journey, and for the 
 blessing of having her son restored to her, and 
 ended with the Lord's Prayer. 
 
 Clarence was then shoAvn into a very small, but 
 clean room, adjoining the kitchen. In spite of his 
 fatigue and sorrow, he soon fell asleep, and slept as 
 soundly on the straw bed as if it had been his usual 
 spring-mattress. 
 
 It was just nine o'clock, the next morning, when 
 the mother stepped quietly to the bedside of the sleep 
 ing Clarence. His soft, light hair fell in disorder 
 about a face flushed with an almost infantile rosy 
 hue. One small, delicate hand lay upon the rough 
 covcrletj which contrasted strangely with the. Hue 
 
THE BROWN COTTAGE. 73 
 
 linen wristband and gold sleeve-buttons. In the 
 other hand was an embroidered handkerchief, 
 which had been saturated with tears from the eyes 
 of the pretty sleeper. 
 
 Mrs. Paverley gazed at her son with a mingled 
 feeling of pity and admiration. Through the open 
 door she beckoned to Lucy, who immediately 
 stepped to her side. 
 
 " Beautiful," whispered Lucy. She now remem 
 bered when her little playmate was taken from her, 
 and the tears that it cost her. The tears that now 
 moistened her large gray eyes were tears of joy. 
 
 Suddenly Clarence awoke, and looked directly 
 into those loving eyes. He drew his face beneath 
 the covering, exclaiming, " Where am I? " 
 
 " At your own home, my brother," was the gen 
 tle reply. 
 
 " Yes, my son ; and you must get up and have 
 your breakfast," said another, not as gently, but 
 with real kindness, as she closed the door. 
 
 After a few moments, Clarence gave a little tap 
 on the door, and said, 
 
 " Pleath, marm, I don't obtherve any wath bathiu 
 and ewer." 
 
 " Peter always washes himself at the pump," 
 said Mrs. Paverley ; " but for this once you shall 
 have a wash basin in your room."- 
 
 A tin basin and a coarse towel were handed in. 
 
 To Clarence, who had been accustomed to all the 
 
74 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 means and appliances of " modern improvement," 
 this rough way of making his morning ablutions 
 was a severe trial. He seemed, figuratively, to 
 have jumped from a hot bath into a snow-drift. 
 
 Was it the rough towel, that almost took the skin 
 off his face, that brought tears to his eyes ? 
 
 After a while he partly opened the door, and said, 
 " I thould like my drething-cathe." 
 
 " Come to breakfast, my son ; you cannot have it 
 now." 
 
 The breakfast consisted of mush and milk, and 
 some of the remaining doughnuts. 
 
 The poor boy had no appetite for his solitary 
 breakfast. 
 
 At one end of the kitchen was a wooden bench, 
 on which stood two large wash-tubs. At one of 
 these tubs was Lucy, employed in washing. She 
 had been thus occupied for more than two hours 
 that morning before Clarence was awake. 
 
 The mother had left the other tub to attend to 
 Clarence. 
 
 From an old black teapot Mrs. Paverley poured 
 a cup of sage tea into a bowl, and sweetened it with 
 molasses. 
 
 " You must take this herb tea, boy. It will do 
 you good. Don't you feel stiff after your long 
 ride?" 
 
 " I do. E\ery bone in my body acheth." 
 
 " Then take this good hot tea," urged the mother. 
 
THE BROWJY COTTAGE. 75 
 
 " I can't, I can't, I can't ! " exclaimed Clarence ; 
 and unable longer to control himself, he burst into 
 a violent fit of crying and sobbing. 
 
 "I am sorry for you ; but you must not be such 
 a baby. It's a thousand pities that you should 
 have been spoiled. Why, your brother Peter, 
 though a year younger than you, is a mighty deal 
 more of a man." 
 
 In spite of his mother's remonstrance, the poor 
 boy dropped his head upon the table and continued 
 to Aveep vehemently. 
 
 The tears of the sympathetic sister fell too fast 
 to count them ; but she refrained from offering a 
 consolatory word, having been told by her mother 
 not to treat the boy too tenderly. 
 
 The sound of wheels was now heard, and soon 
 after Peter rushed in, saying, at the top of his 
 voice, 
 
 " Them trunks are lost ; no finding 'em no 
 where." 
 
 " My trunths lost ! " exclaimed Clarence, raising 
 his head from the table, and regarding Peter with 
 amazement. 
 
 " Yes, sir-ee ! When I went to the barn this 
 morning early, I looked into the cart where they 
 were left, and not a sign of a trunk was there. 
 Then I came in and told mother. Without giving 
 me a morsel of breakfast, she made me start off to 
 the village to inquire after them. Nothing has 
 
76 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 been heard of 'em there. Mother, I'm hungry as 
 a wolf," continued Peter, gazing wishfully at the 
 doughnuts. 
 
 " I've kept some potatoes hot in the ashes for 
 you," said the mother, poking among the embers. 
 
 Clarence shoved the doughnuts to the other side 
 of the table where Peter had seated himself. 
 
 " Help yourthelf, if you pleathe," said he. 
 
 A smile passed over the rough features of the 
 stout younger brother, whether caused by the 
 childish lisp of his pretty brother, or induced by the 
 kindly offer, it would be difficult to say. At all 
 events, the doughnuts rapidly disappeared, and the 
 potatoes followed in quick succession. The rejected 
 sage tea was swallowed without taking the bowl 
 from Peter's mouth, till he came to the last drop. 
 
 All at once he seemed to recollect himself, as 
 Clarence said, in a doleful voice, 
 
 "My clothe and every thing gone ! What can I 
 do?" 
 
 " O, here's a letter for you, from the post-office, 
 Master Clarence Hose ; and a box is in the entry 
 with the same name on it. I'll bring it in. I 
 found it at the hotel. It came in the stage." 
 
 So saying, Peter lugged in the box, strong fellow 
 that he was, and told Clarence to take it up. and 
 carry it to his room. 
 
 Clarence tried in vain to lift the box, for though 
 it was not large, it was heavy. 
 
THE, BROWM COTTAGE. 77 
 
 " What a baby you are ! " exclaimed Pete, lifting 
 the box and striding across the kitchen proudly. 
 
 When he had deposited it in the small bedroom, 
 he called out, " Sugar plums for baby, I guess. 
 Come, let's see. Hammer and tongs 1 Let's open 
 her." 
 
 Pete knocked away with a will, and soon the 
 contents of the box were displayed. 
 
 Clarence seized a letter lying on the top, and 
 finding it was from his " mamma," read it eagerly, 
 while Pete hauled out the other contents and heaped 
 them upon the floor. 
 
 Every thing that had belonged to Clarence, even 
 from childhood, had been gathered by Mrs. Rose 
 and forwarded to her darling. Even many of his 
 playthings balls, tops, battledoors, skates, &c. 
 
 Clarence was aroused from the perusal of the 
 kind letter by the loud laughter of Pete, and his 
 exclamation, 
 
 " Jimrniuy, what a thing ! You would look like 
 a fire-hang-bird, with this on your back ! " 
 
 Pete was holding up a Irand new paletot, of fine 
 blue broadcloth, lined with scarlet flannel. 
 
 Mrs. Rose mentioned in her letter that this gar 
 ment had been made and paid for before the failure 
 of Mr. Rose. 
 
 There were numerous gay cravats that had been 
 thrown aside, and other articles of wearing apparel 
 that had been outgrown. But what Clarence saw 
 
78 TRUE JtfAATZ/JVESS. 
 
 with the greatest pleasure was a number of books, 
 in short, his whole miscellaneous library, from 
 Mother Goose and Cock Robin to Prescott's " Con 
 quest of Mexico." 
 
 Pete poked his arms into the sleeves of the pale 
 tot, and turning out as much of the scarlet lining as 
 possible, went capering into the kitchen, crying, 
 
 " Ain't I fine ! jolly fine ! " 
 
 The associations connected with the childhood of 
 Clarence, and the letter, quite overcame the boy, 
 and he threw himself upon the bed and cried aloud. 
 
 " Boo-hoo ! Boo-hoo ! " exclaimed Pete ; " a thir 
 teen-year-old baby !" 
 
 " Be quiet, Pete ; take off that overcoat, and go 
 about your business. You shan't tease Clarence," 
 said the mother. 
 
 " The boys will throw mud at him if he wears 
 this thing," replied Pete, throwing the paletot on the 
 floor, and giving it a contemptuous kick. 
 
 Pete was a fair specimen of a " muscular " boy. 
 He had swung his hands, not in play-gymnastics, 
 but with axe in hand, since he was nine years old. 
 Hoe, rake, and spade were his other implements 
 for exercise ; and his broad shoulders and sturdy 
 arms, his tough, hard hands, and his big feet, 
 matched well with his wide, expanded chest, and 
 his thick neck. He thought himself manly because 
 he was physically strong. But that was a great 
 mistake. He was strong like a beast of burden. 
 
Jl PLEASANT MEETING. 79 
 
 That kind of strength has its use ; but it is not the 
 highest kind of strength. Something more is want 
 ing for a man, " the lord of creation." 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 A PLEASANT MEETING-. 
 
 WHEN Clarence had been in his new home a few 
 weeks, he would scarcely have been recognized by 
 his schoolmates at the parsonage. 
 
 The gay paletot had been exchanged at a tailor's 
 in the neighboring village for a suit of coarse gray 
 cloth and some other needed garments. Thick 
 " cowhide " boots and a woollen cap completed his 
 attire. 
 
 One evening, at supper time, Pete did not appear 
 at the usual hour. He generally was quite anxious 
 for supper. It was a cruelly cold winter evening, 
 and, as hour after hour passed, Mrs. Paverley and 
 Lucy became seriously alarmed. 
 
 At length, about ten o'clock, something seemed 
 to be thrown against the front door. Lucy ran to 
 open it. 
 
 There was Pete, in a dreadful condition. Some 
 body had helped him home, for he had been quite 
 unable to walk. 
 
80 TRUE 
 
 He had been trying his strength with a boy 
 nearly twice his own age and size, and had been 
 furiously beaten. One of his eyes was so swollen 
 that it was entirely closed, and his face wa^ covered 
 with blood. In short, he was bruised from head to 
 foot, and his boasted strength was so far gone, that 
 his mother and sister were obliged to use theirs to 
 lift the boy into the house. 
 
 "Where have you been? and what have you 
 been about?*" exclaimed the mother, as they laid 
 Pete upon a " settle" * before the fire. 
 
 Pete was so completely chilled that he could not 
 answer. Indeed, from the injuries he had received, 
 and the severe cold, he was almost insensible. 
 
 Clarence ran for a sponge, which was among 
 the articles sent in the box, and with some luke 
 warm water washed the blood from Pete's face, 
 while Mrs. Paverley drew off his boots, and rubbed 
 the almost frozen feet. Lucy put on the tea-kettle, 
 to make some of her mother's sovereign remedy for 
 all complaints sage tea. 
 
 After using these simple restoratives till Pete 
 seemed to be thawed out, the mother again ques 
 tioned him. 
 
 When he attempted to answer, they found that 
 he lisped quite as much as Clarence ; for in his 
 fierce fight he had bitten his own tongue. 
 
 * Settle. A wooden scat for four persons, with a high back to 
 keep off the cold air. 
 
A PLEASANT MEETING. 81 
 
 " I tan't tell you," he uttered with great difficulty, 
 with his mouth open and his swollen tongue pro 
 truding from his mouth. 
 
 Lucy was agreeably surprised to find her brother 
 Clarence so tender and helpful. He seemed to have 
 forgotten all the rough usage and unkindness he 
 had received from Pete, and he showed unusual 
 thoughtfulness in the means he used to alleviate the 
 sufferings of the young bully, who, in trying his 
 strength, had nearly lost his life. 
 
 In consequence of Pete's inability to go about his 
 usual work, Clarence was obliged to take his place. 
 Patchy came under his special care, besides two 
 pigs that were to be fed, wood to be brought in, 
 and kindling to be chopped. 
 
 The day but one after Pete's frolic, Clarence had 
 to drive into the neighboring village, we might 
 as well call it Hodgeton, though that was not really 
 its name. Well, Clarence was obliged to tackle 
 that rack of bones, Patchy, to the cart, and drive 
 into Hodgeton with the week's washing. From the 
 hotel in the village, Mrs. Paverley was regularly 
 supplied with a quantity of clothing, and her prin 
 cipal source of revenue was the wash-tub. 
 
 Like the famous Giles Jolt, who, when he was 
 sleeping on the road, and some rogues stole his 
 horse, and when he awoke found himself alone in 
 the cart, exclaimed, " Am I Giles Jolt, or am I 
 not? If so, I've lost a horse ; if not, I've found a 
 6 
 
82 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 cart," Clarence might have doubted his own iden 
 tity, so strange it was for him to be driving that 
 forlorn beast in that miserable cart. 
 
 And yet, there was a new sense of power, as he 
 held the reins, that was not disagreeable. He was 
 somebody who had the control of another body, and 
 he drove up to the door of the cottage for the bas 
 kets quite valiantly. Yet when he stood by the 
 fire, warming his hands, tears were in his eyes. 
 
 Lucy took the small hands in her own, and chafed 
 them, saying, " I will go to the village for you, 
 brother ; it is too hard for you." 
 
 " No, no," he replied, " I am not crying. I with 
 to go niythelf. I'm only cold." 
 
 " That's right," said the mother, as she brought 
 a warm blanket to wrap about the delicate boy. 
 
 " And here is the muffler for your ears that I 
 finished last night," said Lucy, tying the woollen 
 comforter about the neck and head of her brother ; 
 and then she helped him in putting the baskets in 
 the cart. 
 
 Thus defended from the cold, Clarence drove 
 Patchy quite cheerily to the village, and stopped 
 before the hotel. As he was taking one of the 
 large baskets out of the cart, a pleasant, familiar 
 voice greeted his ear. 
 
 " How are you, Clarence ! Let me help you 
 with the baskets. It's a bitter day for you to be 
 out." 
 
A PLEASANT MEETING. 83 
 
 "Harvey Amadore ! How came you here?" 
 was the surprised exclamation that followed. 
 
 " I am here for the winter vacation. Let's hand 
 in the baskets, and put Patchy under cover ; then we 
 will go in and have a good talk." 
 
 So saying, Harvey seized one of the baskets and 
 carried it into the hotel, while Clarence with much 
 difficulty dragged another along. 
 
 " Come, Sam Patch," said Harvey, gayly, as he 
 drove the miserable steed -into the stable, while 
 Clarence looked after his friend to him, indeed, a 
 friend in need. 
 
 Soon the two boys were cosily seated by a 
 rousing fire in the " inn's best room." A table, 
 with arrangements for two persons, was soon 
 spread, and a smoking-hot dinner, of broiled chick 
 ens and stewed oysters, was placed upon the table. 
 
 Poor Clarence looked at the savory meal with 
 longing eyes. 
 
 " Come, Clarence, let us draw up and take our 
 dinner before it is cold," said Harvey. 
 
 Clarence hesitated, and colored deeply. He had 
 no money. His pride revolted at being obliged to 
 make the confession ; besides, he had always 
 thought Harvey to be in very moderate circum 
 stances. 
 
 Harvey placed a chair by the table for Clarence, 
 saying, 
 
 " I ordered dinner for two. I am sure you will 
 
84: TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 not refuse to keep a friend company, who would 
 otherwise have had a solitary meal. " 
 
 "But, but," began Clarence. Harvey inter 
 rupted him. 
 
 " None of your buts, or ifs, or ands, old fellow. 
 This, for the time being, is my home, and you are 
 my guest." 
 
 Thus urged, Clarence took the offered chair, and 
 Harvey seated himself opposite his " guest." 
 
 " Shall I say grace? " inquired Harvey, with just 
 the slightest embarrassment. 
 
 Clarence nodded assent. 
 
 Never before was a meal so welcome to the pet 
 ted boy, accustomed as he had been in other days to 
 a luxurious table. 
 
 " I haven't told you anything about our school," 
 said Harvey, who was enjoying the relishing dinner 
 more in seeing the keen appetite of his friend thus 
 gratified, than by partaking of it himself, though he 
 did set the example by eating heartily, but not im 
 moderately. 
 
 " I must tell you about the boys." 
 
 " Do, do. I want to hear about them," said 
 Clarence. 
 
 " Bully Jimson fought with Daring Dick of the 
 village, and had one eye knocked out." 
 
 " That might have happened to my brother Pe 
 ter, for he wath dreadfully hurt in a fight. Why 
 do boyth fight?" 
 
A PLEASANT MEETING. 85 
 
 "Because they are too much afraid of being 
 called cowards ; and, besides, they think it is manly. 
 Mr. Warren sent immediately for Jimson's parents , 
 and they carried the poor fellow home." 
 
 "What has become of Stackpole Clap?" 
 
 " O, to be sure ; we have two new boys, whom 
 he toadies just as he toadied Jimson. It is a mean 
 ness of nature so deeply rooted, I fear he will never 
 be able to eradicate it. He tried it with me, after 
 you left ; but I was so disgusted with it, that I told 
 him, not very politely, that I had a natural aversion 
 to toads and snakes. Since then he has revenged 
 himself by calling me " old graypatch," which 
 nickname the new boys have adopted ; but that does 
 not trouble me at all. Mrs. Warren has been, you 
 know, more quiet and dignified since the turkey 
 affair, and Mr. Warren is as good and faithful as 
 ever. I consider him one of the best friends I 
 have had since I have been an orphan. I was 
 sorry to part with you from school, Clarence." 
 
 " How did you happen to know my mother " 
 eagerly inquired Clarence ; and in a lower tone he 
 added " to be a rethpectable woman?" 
 
 " I had often seen her in the village and at 
 church, and your sister Lucy was a scholar in the 
 Sunday school when I was a small boy in the same 
 school. She was the very best scholar in her class." 
 
 " Then you live near here? " said Clarence. 
 
 " Yes. I live just over there, on Linden Hill," 
 
86 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 replied Harvey, pointing to a large stone building, 
 looking almost like a castle. 
 
 " The Lindens ! That your home ! " exclaimed 
 his companion, with wide-open eyes. 
 
 " That is my home, a desolate home, for I have 
 neither father nor mother, brother nor sister." 
 
 " And ith it all your own?" 
 
 "It is ; but gladly would I have had dear ones to 
 enjoy it with me. I am going to have a Christmas 
 party. I shall ask the teachers and scholars of the 
 Sunday school, of which I have spoken, to come to 
 the Lindens on Christinas eve ; and I want you and 
 your sister to join us there." 
 
 Clarence was meditating upon the plain gray 
 dress which Harvey had always worn at Mr. War 
 ren's, and in which he now appeared, and from 
 which he inferred that he was very far from -rich, 
 his idea of wealth being very closely associated 
 with fine clothing. 
 
 " You do not accept my invitation," said Harvey. 
 
 " I haven't any thing fit to wear to a party," said 
 Clarence, doubtfully and dolefully. 
 
 " Nonsense. I can't accept such an apology. I 
 shall ask your sister myself. Will you take me 
 home with you now ? ' 
 
 4 *But will you ride in a cart, with that mitliera- 
 ble apology for a horth ? " 
 
 *' I will go home with you, if you will allow me 
 the pleasure," kindly replied Harvey. " Fetch up 
 
A PLEJlSJJYT MEETING. 87 
 
 Patchy to the door, if you please, and I will be 
 ready to jump in." 
 
 While Clarence went for his humble equipage, 
 Harvey paid the hotel bill, and warmed the blanket 
 which had been brought in from the cart. Harvey 
 sprang into the vehicle at a bound, saying, 
 
 " Let me wrap the blanket around you, and give me 
 the reins ; my hands are tongh, and yours are tender." 
 
 Clarence gladly yielded the reins ; and Patchy, 
 stimulated by a plentiful dinner of oats, went off at 
 a brisk pace. 
 
 Much wondering, and quite anxious at the pro 
 longed absence of Clarence, Lucy was eagerly look 
 ing out of the small front window of the cottage, 
 when Patchy came trotting up to the door. Oats 
 had more to do with his speed than the driver's 
 skill, though Harvey was accountable for both. 
 
 Clarence introduced " Mr. Amadore " with evi 
 dent embarrassment, while Lucy received the visitor 
 calmly, and placed a chair for him without the 
 slightest awkwardness. Mrs. Paverley was in a 
 flutter, wondering what had happened. 
 
 Harvey took the offered chair, near the stove, 
 and soon made known the object of his visit, 
 
 Lucy said she would be pleased to meet her for 
 mer teachers and schoolmates of the Sunday school, 
 and she would be glad to have Clarence with her. 
 
 Harvey then inquired after Peter, and asked tQ 
 have him come to the Christmas party, 
 
88 TRUE MAMLIJfESS. 
 
 " O, dear me," replied Mrs. Paverley, " Pete 
 won't be out of the house for at least two weeks ; he's 
 had such a dreadful drubbing. I hope it will be a les 
 son to him not to go about fighting like a bull-dog." 
 
 Harvey soon after hastened homeward, full of 
 kind and benevolent plans for others besides himself. 
 Gifted with a large fortune, his earnest desire was, 
 to make the best possible use of it in doing good. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 HARDSHIPS. 
 
 Now that Peter was disabled, Clarence had to 
 perform all the out-door work at the cottage. 
 He had never before handled an axe. Now he had 
 to cut and split all the wood for the stove, and his 
 hands were blistered with the hard work. He had, 
 besides to feed the horse and a pig. This latter 
 duty was specially disagreeable to the delicate boy. 
 
 One evening, rather late, he went to give piggy 
 his supper. It was so dim at the pig-pen that he 
 could not see the place where the contents of the 
 bucket were to be poured into the trough. Piggy 
 became very impatient for his supper, and made it 
 known by loud squeals. Clarence began to be quite 
 frightened j but when the enraged pig jumped upon 
 
HARDSHIPS. 89 
 
 the side of the pen, the terrified boy put down the 
 bucket, and ran into the house, crying out that " the 
 pig had gone mad, and was going to attack him fu- 
 riouthly." 
 
 Lucy lighted a candle, put it in an old lantern, 
 and went immediately to see if she could quell the 
 furious animal ; while Mrs. Paverley gave Clarence 
 a severe scolding for what she called his " silly 
 fears of a fat pig." 
 
 Indeed, in the midst of all the trials incident to 
 his new situation, his sister Lucy's gentle kindness 
 was a great alleviation. Lucy Paverley might have 
 been the original of Wordsworth's sweet poem, en 
 titled " Lucy," 
 
 " A maid whom there were none to praise, 
 
 And very few to love. 
 A violet by a mossy stone, 
 
 Half hidden from the eye ! 
 Fair as a star, when only one 
 Is shining in the sky." 
 
 Mrs. Paverley had frequently remarked that Lucy 
 took after her father, adding that " he had a mighty 
 taste for learning, and took to poetry as a duck 
 takes to water." 
 
 Although Lucy had had the advantage of only 
 three winters' schooling, at the common school of 
 the district, she was a proficient in the three E-'s, 
 " 'readhi', 'ritin', and Arithmetic," and had a de 
 cided taste for study. 
 
90 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 Mr. Paverley had been an invalid for several 
 years before his death, and had been supported by 
 his hard-working wife, with the assistance of Mr. 
 Amadore, the father of Harvey, who was then liv 
 ing at the Lindens. Paverley, when in health, was 
 head gardener at the Lindens, and was really a 
 man of uncommon taste for reading, for one in his 
 position. 
 
 It was very true that Lucy more resembled her 
 father in character than she did her less refined 
 mother. She had, too, more genuine sensibility 
 and sentiment than her brother Clarence, in spite 
 of his very different education. That, indeed, had 
 been a hot-house culture, quite unfitting him for the 
 rude encounter of wintry blasts. 
 
 For some days after Clarence had undertaken the 
 tasks which had devolved upon Peter, he was so fa 
 tigued by these extraordinary labors, that he was 
 obliged to go to bed immediately after supper. 
 
 His bedroom now showed a very different ap 
 pearance from the shabby one that presented itself 
 to the astonished boy on his first arrival. 
 
 In the box sent by Mrs. Rose were a number 
 of pretty engravings, some in frames and others 
 without. All of these Lucy had arranged about 
 the small bedroom, and they nearly covered the 
 dingy walls. A neat patchwork bed-quilt covered 
 his bed, and he Had even a toilet-table, made, to be 
 sure, of rough boards, but covered with white muslin, 
 
HARDSHIPS. 91 
 
 an ingenious transformation from Mrs. Paverley's 
 wedding dress. On the toilet-table stood the beautiful 
 dressing-case which came in the box, and had been a 
 Christmas gift to Clarence only a year previously. A 
 few shelves over the toilet-table contained his library. 
 
 Mrs. Paverley did not altogether approve of this 
 ministration to the luxurious taste of the effeminate 
 boy, and yet she allowed Lucy to have her own way 
 about the bedroom, with one exception. When 
 Lucy proposed to have a wash-stand purchased in 
 the village, Mrs. Paverley replied, 
 
 " No, no," very decidedly. " He shall go to the 
 well, and wash himself in the tin basin, as Pete 
 does. You cosset him too much." 
 
 Small as this trial might have been to a resolute 
 boy, who might one day be subjected to the hard 
 ships of a soldier's life, it was a severe one to Clar 
 ence. He felt as though he would rather " kick the 
 bucket," in a literal sense, than to draw it up from 
 the well ; and he frequently salted the water, with 
 which he washed his face and hands, with those 
 " briny drops " which boys usually are ashamed to 
 shed. 
 
 And when the thermometer was 10 below zero, 
 as it was the day before Christmas, there was dan 
 ger of the water's freezing before he could finish his 
 morning ablutions. No wonder that a real " boo- 
 hoo, boo-hoo," accompanied the splash upon his 
 face, and continued when the water froze to the 
 
92 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 towel which hung on a roller behind the kitchen 
 door. 
 
 Lucy chafed the aching fingers and warmed them 
 on her own cheeks, with the comforting assurance 
 that those fingers were " red, and not white," as 
 they would have been if they were frozen. 
 
 Small comfort in this assurance while the pain 
 lasted, but great comfort in his sister's warmth and 
 kindness. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 MERRY CHRISTMAS, 
 
 HARVEY AMADORE had been left an orphan at the 
 age of thirteen, and was now sixteen. 
 
 The will of his father was a remarkable one. 
 By it Harvey was to receive two thousand dollars a 
 year till he became of age, 'House in his education 
 and in other ways." He was to have the spending 
 of this money, as expressed in the will, " that Har 
 vey may learn to use money with economy and gen 
 erosity to do good to himself and others with 
 wealth which has been accumulated without a con 
 scientious regard to the wants of the poor and 
 needy. He is, moreover, to make himself and 
 others as innocently happy as possible with the 
 liberal allowance granted him during his minority. 
 
MERRY CHRISTMAS. 93 
 
 Furthermore, he must remember that the estate of 
 which he will in time become possessor, is not the 
 result of his own labor, but was acquired through 
 the labor, care, and painstaking of another ; and 
 that he, Harvey Amadore, will be accountable to 
 God for the right use of it. During his minority 
 he must keep a strict account of his expenditures, 
 and render this account quarterly to my executor, 
 Mr. Hosea Fenton, of the city of New York." 
 
 The Lindens was Harvey's home when he was 
 not at school, and the spacious mansion was kept in 
 order by the housekeeper. She was a poor relation, 
 a second cousin to Mr. Amadore, and was named 
 by him, in that singular will, as housekeeper at the 
 Lindens during Harvey's minority, with a liberal 
 allowance for herself and for the expense of keep 
 ing the place in order. 
 
 And now Christmas had come, and was to be 
 merrily kept by the teachers and scholars at the 
 Hodgeton Sunday school. 
 
 A tall Christmas tree, a beautiful Norway spruce, 
 was placed in the centre of the circular saloon, at 
 the Lindens. An entrance hall led to this saloon, 
 which occupied a large space in the middle of the 
 house, and was lighted from the beautifully painted 
 window on the roof. 
 
 The tree had been firmly fixed in a large block 
 of wood, which was completely covered with run 
 ning pine and other evergreen vines from the woods. 
 
94 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 " Come, Aunty Dotty, coine and see my Christ 
 mas tree," said Harvey, delighted with its appear 
 ance, as it stood with its aspiring top pointing to the 
 sky, or, rather, the sky-light. He then left the 
 saloon. 
 
 Miss Dorothy Trig was a tall maiden, whom fifty 
 years had visited somewhat roughly, judging l^y 
 the screwed-up mouth which approached her nose 
 with a pugnacious expression, and the defiant look 
 of her light gray eyes. 
 
 Aunty Dotty, as Harvey called this far-off cousin, 
 gave her mouth a tighter screw than usual as she 
 surveyed the tree, and then she gave forth her opin 
 ion of it. 
 
 " A Christmas tree ! What heathenish nonsense ! 
 In my childhood it would have been considered the 
 same sort of thing as a mince-pie was among the 
 Puritans a remnant of Popery. But times are 
 altered," added Aunty Dotty, with a deep sigh, as 
 she placed her thin arms akimbo, and rolled up 
 her gray eyes with a woful expression, " times 
 are altered dreadfully for the worse. I won 
 der if they mean to transmogrify our country 
 into a Babylon. I shouldn't wonder if this tree 
 was a kind of foreshadowing of such an idol as 
 Nebuchadnezzar set up, or, leastwise, of them they 
 set up now in Rome." 
 
 After this soliloquy, Aunty Dotty turned her 
 back upon the foreshadowing idol, and retired to 
 nurse her indignation in hur own room. 
 
MERRY CHRISTMAS. 95 
 
 Then in came Harvey, dragging a, large basket. 
 "With the assistance of one of the men servants, he 
 hung upon the tree a quantity of useful articles, 
 shawls, tippets, hoods, and even bonnets, for the 
 girls, for the little ones, dolls and other toys ; 
 for the boys, hats, caps, comforters, " red, white, 
 and blue," skates, tops, balls, &c., the whole tree 
 ornamented by small flags, the beloved " stars and 
 stripes." Then the colored wax tapers were care 
 fully arranged so as not to endanger the tree when 
 they were lighted. 
 
 Books were too heavy for the bending branches 
 of the hemlocjs ; so they were placed on a table near 
 by, a goodly quantity of them, by goodly men and 
 women, who had done their best to please and in 
 struct the "rising generation." Rising to what? 
 To be better men and women than their fathers 
 and mothers ? Quien sdbe ? Who knows ? 
 
 The arrangements had all been completed to 
 Harvey's satisfaction ; and just as the sun was set 
 ting on Christmas eve, he was standing before the 
 beautiful tree with Aunty Dotty, for he had sum 
 moned her from her room. 
 
 With her arms akimbo, and her thin lips drawn 
 into a condemning sneer, she too surveyed the gor 
 geously bedecked spruce, and then said, 
 
 " Now, Harvey, I do declare you have been very 
 extravagant. The fruit on that tree must have 
 cost more than a hundred dollars ; and the books 
 
96 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 on that table another hundred. ' A woful waste 
 will make a woful want.' " 
 
 "But, Aunty Dotty, it is not a waste ; they are 
 all useful articles, except here and there a basket 
 of candies and a sprinkling of oranges," replied 
 Harvey, in a mild, conciliatory tone. 
 
 " And what do you say to the colored wax tapers 
 all burning out for just a piece of folly? No such 
 waste was ever thought of in my time." 
 
 " What do you think of the thousands of bright 
 tapers in the night sky ? Are they of any use to 
 us, besides being beautiful? What's the use of 
 flowers, and the splendid feathers of Jbirds, or the 
 delicate colors of sea-shells ? Are they not all for 
 our pleasure? So it is with the tapers to light up 
 the tree and make it beautiful, to give pleasure to 
 the school children. Seldom do they enjoy any 
 thing of this kind. Come, Aunty, now be reason 
 able. Put on your best silk gown, and distribute 
 the gifts to the girls. I am sure it will be a pleas 
 ant task. I will do the same for the boys." 
 
 "Now, Harvey, you always find a way to get 
 round me, and make me do as you like. I suppose 
 I must take a part in this mummery." 
 
 So saying, Aunty Dotty left the hall, and very 
 soon returned, arrayed in a red and yellow change 
 able silk, that had descended to her as a sort of 
 heirloom in the family of the Trigs. She wore 
 about her neck a string of gold beads, that might 
 
MERRY CHRISTMAS. 97 
 
 have come from Amsterdam centuries ago, for on 
 the mother's side she was of the Vanderthuysens, 
 or Van something else. 
 
 Aunty Dotty had one remarkable peculiarity. 
 Like the late Lord Dudley and Ward, of English 
 notoriety, she spoke out what was in her mind, 
 without the least regard to the persons about her. 
 For example : Lord Dudley was one day driving 
 in his carriage through the streets of London. He 
 met an acquaintance, and stopping the carriage, in 
 vited the gentleman to take a seat beside him. The 
 invitation was accepted, and they drove on. After 
 some conversation, Lord Dudley relapsed into si 
 lence for a few moments, and then said to himself, 
 aloud, " I suppose I shall have to ask this man to 
 dinner." The gentleman said to himself, aloud, 
 *' If his lordship should invite me to dinner, I 
 should be obliged to decline." 
 
 Now, Miss Dorothy Trig had this same habit. 
 
 The children were assembled in the large parlor, 
 before the tree was lighted. When they had all 
 arrived, and had disposed of their wrappings, they 
 were shown into the saloon. Hundreds of wax ta 
 pers illuminated the tree. It was a beautiful sight, 
 and the children were as much surprised and de 
 lighted as they could have been with the gorgeous 
 palace of Aladdin. Then a band of music in the 
 entrance hall struck up a familiar air, and teachers 
 and children sang a Christmas carol. 
 7 
 
98 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 Clarence and his sister Lucy kept themselves 
 quite in the background, till Harvey, discovering 
 them, brought them forward where they could have 
 a better view. 
 
 After the singing ceased, the whole company, as 
 if by a preconcerted arrangement, simultaneously 
 clapped their hands and shouted with all their might. 
 
 When the noise subsided, the distribution of the 
 gifts began. 
 
 Miss Dorothy, with a long pole in her hand, 
 could reach to the topmost branches. 
 
 It so happened that her eyes fell upon Lucy as 
 she stood beside her brother. 
 
 " O," said Aunty Dotty, " I must give Lucy Pa- 
 verley something nice, for she's a good girl, and 
 helps her mother ; quite a pretty girl, too ; so here's 
 a bright plaid shawl for her." So saying, she 
 brought down the shawl, which was tied up with a 
 blue ribbon in a roll, as it hung on a lower branch 
 of the tree. 
 
 Lucy's color rose at this complimentary speech, 
 and she received the gift without being able to utter 
 a word. 
 
 " She don't like the shawl. I wonder why ! " 
 said Aunty Dotty. 
 
 " O, I do like it, very much, indeed," Lucy re 
 plied, as Clarence untied the ribbon, and said, 
 " What a pretty thawl ! " 
 
 " Thawl ! " echoed Aunty Dotty, in a contemptu 
 ous tone. 
 
MERRY CHRISTMAS. 99 
 
 " Come, aunty, they are waiting for you,'' said 
 Harvey. 
 
 The distribution continued, Miss Dorothy making 
 her remarks as she went on, till all the gifts for the 
 girls were distributed. 
 
 Harvey then supplied the boys with theirs. 
 
 To Clarence he gave Sparks's " Life of Frank 
 lin ; " and as he did so, he whispered in his ear, 
 
 " If you will learn to speak the letter S, as well 
 as you have the R, I will give you a cow." 
 
 Clarence was so much amused with the singular 
 gift thus promised, that he laughed heartily, the 
 first genuine, hearty laugh he had enjoyed since he 
 left school. 
 
 " Thilly-boy," said Aunty Dotty, loud enough for 
 Clarence to hear it. 
 
 With perfect good nature, he whispered to Har 
 vey, " Dolly-boy, or little Wainbow, they did call 
 me, you know. Thilly-boy ith a new name." 
 
 " I am glad you don't mind what Aunty Dotty 
 says ; she's queer, you know." 
 
 A bountiful table was spread in the dining-room ; 
 and thither, led by Aunty Dotty, teachers and 
 scholars hied to partake of the Christmas supper. 
 
 When the children had done ample justice to the 
 bountiful supply of substantiate and " goodies," 
 Harvey said, 
 
 " Now we will adjourn to the parlor ; and before 
 we part we will sing another Christmas hymn." 
 
100 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 Harvey seated himself at the piano, and played 
 an air suitable for the hymn, and teachers and chil 
 dren raised their happy voices together in singing, 
 " While shepherds watched their flocks by night." 
 
 For an hour longer they frolicked on the bril 
 liantly lighted lawn. 
 
 On their return home, thousands of the lamps of 
 heaven shed down their glittering light upon the 
 happy children, each clasping closely his Christinas 
 gift, and chatting, as they went, on the pleasures 
 of this memorable evening. 
 
 Clarence asked his sister if she heard the droll 
 promise Harvey made about his lisping. 
 
 " No," she replied, " I did not. What a beauti 
 ful thing it is for such a man to have money ! " 
 
 " Man ! " exclaimed Clarence ; "he ith but a 
 boy. He wouldn't like to be called a man. He 
 promithed, if I would leave off lithping, to give me a 
 cow." 
 
 Here Clarence quite startled Lucy by bursting 
 into a laugh, which rung out loud and clear upon 
 the silent air of night. 
 
 " Ycth ; and he even thent Pete a book, a thplen- 
 did copy of Robinthon Crutho, with ever tho many 
 engravingth. Do you know that queer woman 
 called me Thilly-boy ? Arid what ith worth, I heard 
 thome of the children whithpering it to each other, 
 nfterwardth.'' 
 
 u Well, brother, I will help you to learn to speak 
 
MERRY CHRISTMAS. 101 
 
 the S. We will begin by reading the Life of Frank 
 lin in the evenings ; and you must try to earn the 
 cow." 
 
 '.' I care leth for the cow than I do for being 
 called Thilly-boy. I am not thilly." 
 
 Lucy's face was not visible, or Clarence might 
 have seen that she was stifling a laugh. She did 
 not reply to him for some moments. At length 
 she said, 
 
 " No, brother, you are not silly ; but this unfor 
 tunate defect in your speech makes you appear so ; 
 and it is quite time for you to overcome it. But 
 here we are, at home ; and mother has been sitting 
 up for us." 
 
 Mrs. Paverley was sleepy and tired with waiting 
 for her children's return ; and when they entered 
 the cottage, chatting merrily, she exclaimed, fret- 
 fully,- 
 
 " Hoity-toity ! you don't mind my sitting here 
 alone till this time o' night ! " 
 
 " I am sorry, mother ; but see what our Christ 
 mas gifts are," said Lucy, unrolling the thick 
 woollen plaid shawl. " You can wear it, mother, 
 whenever you please." 
 
 " And here's a new book for Peter, and lots of 
 cakes and candies. And I am to have a cow one 
 of theth dayth," said Clarence, with a hearty laugh. 
 
 " Well, now that is a funny Christmas present. 
 I don't wonder you laugh ; and I am glad to hear 
 
102 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 you ; for it's the first time since you was a little bit 
 of a thing, not higher than my knee. Now we'll 
 go to bed." 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 UNWELCOME FRIENDS. 
 
 THE plaid shawl was worn the next day by Lucy, 
 although she urged her mother to wear it ; and, ac 
 companied by Clarence, she walked to church. 
 
 It was one of those sparkling days of winter, 
 when the snow seems to reflect the blue of the sky, 
 and the shadows lying upon that pure snow are al 
 most purple. Dark evergreens lifted their tall spires 
 heavenward, and the spreading oaks and elms made 
 a delicate and beautiful tracery upon the clear sky. 
 
 Lucy, though poor in purse, was not poor in 
 mind. What was genuine sentiment in one so 
 humble and so natural, might have appeared senti 
 mentality in a city-born and city-bred miss in her 
 teens, who had derived all her knowledge of nature 
 from poetry and romance. 
 
 " Isn't there something quite heavenly in the 
 pretty sky, to-day, Clarence? And the snow in 
 its purity reminds me of the ' beauty of holiness.'" 
 
 Clarence cast a look of surprise at his sister, but 
 did not answer her question. 
 
UNWELCOME FRIENDS. 103 
 
 " We ought to be very thankful to-day for so 
 many blessings. I enjoy having you with me so 
 much, so much ! You are more gentle and kind 
 than Pete." 
 
 " Then you think me a gentlew&u" said Clar 
 ence, smiling. 
 
 " I think in time you will become a good, useful 
 man a better man than you would have been if 
 you had been indulged in every luxury, as you were 
 with Mrs. Rose, and was in danger of being noth 
 ing but a vain, silly dandy." 
 
 " But you don't know what a dreadful change it 
 ith for me," the boy exclaimed, with tears starting 
 to his eyes. " I couldn't bear it, if it wathn't for 
 you." 
 
 " In time you will confess it was all for the best. 
 But here we are, near the church door, and we will 
 try to make this the best Christmas we have ever 
 known. With all our poverty and needs, we are 
 not so poor as that blessed Saviour who was cradled 
 in a manger, and afterwards had ' not where to lay 
 his head.' " 
 
 When the services of the church were over, Lucy 
 and Clarence, thoughtful and Solemnized, were 
 walking quietly on the road homeward, when a 
 horse and sleigh, driven rapidly, caused them to 
 jump aside from the beaten path. Indeed, Clarence 
 came very near being run over. 
 
 Though the bells on the horse were as many as 
 
104 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 he well could carry, above the merry jingling came 
 a shout, " Hulloa, Dolly-boy." 
 
 " O, goodneth me ! " exclaimed Clarence ; " that 
 wath Jack Jack Jimthon ; and I think Stackpole 
 Clap wath the other boy. I wonder where they 
 are going." 
 
 " To the Lindens," said Lucy. " See, they have 
 stopped at the great gate." 
 
 Harvey, who had lingered a while at the church, 
 now joined Lucy and Clarence. 
 
 "Did you see who was in that sleigh?" he in 
 quired. " They passed me so rapidly, I could not 
 quite make them out ; but I think I recognized 
 Jack Jimson." 
 
 " And Stackpole was the other boy," said Clar 
 ence. 
 
 "Unwelcome as they are, I must make the best 
 of it, and treat them civilly. Come home with me 
 to dinner, Clarence." 
 
 "JV0, / thank you" replied Clarence, with an en 
 ergy of expression quite startling to Lucy ; and 
 Harvey said, laughingly, 
 
 " No wonder you don't like the company ; but I 
 must say good by, and hurry home to receive those 
 fellows. I am quite sure Aunty Dotty won't give 
 them a hearty welcome." 
 
 Sure enough. When Harvey, after hastening up 
 the avenue, had reached the front of the house, 
 there sat Stackpole Clap in the sleigh, while his 
 
UNWELCOME FRIENDS. 105 
 
 companion, Jack, was talking in a loud voice to 
 some one within the door. 
 
 " Say, now, where shall I put my horse? I shall 
 wait here till Harvey comes home." 
 
 " You'd better drive off your horse, and go where 
 you came from. We don't have company Christ 
 mas day. We had enough last night." This was 
 the shrill voice of Aunty Dotty, who was holding a 
 parley through the keyhole of a closed door with 
 Jack Jimson. 
 
 " O, here you are, my dear Harvey ! " exclaimed 
 Stackpole, " in time to prevent our being rudely 
 driven from your door." 
 
 " Old fellow, how are you?" cried Jack, as he 
 sprung down the flight of steps ; and, seizing the 
 hand of Harvey, he gave it such a grip that Harvey 
 fairly winced under it. 
 
 " They won't let us in to your hospitable man 
 sion," continued Jack. " What sort of a Cerberus 
 do you keep here ? " 
 
 " I'll send a servant to take charge of your horse. 
 He seems in need of care, for he is quite in a foam. 
 Come in, boys." 
 
 Harvey could not do otherwise than be civil to 
 his quondam schoolmates. 
 
 Jack Jimson wore a green shade over one eye, 
 which entirely concealed the swollen, discolored 
 eyelid ; for the eye itself was closed, no more to 
 open upon earth. 
 
106 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 Aunty Dotty was too much displeased to preside 
 at the dinner-table, and the boys had it all to them 
 selves. 
 
 " What a splendid place this is ! " said Stackpole. 
 " Who would have thought you were the owner? I 
 should have been as mad as fire, if I had been you, 
 to be called " Old Grayskin." 
 
 " It didn't hurt me," was the calm reply. 
 
 " Who do you think we saw, as we were driving 
 along the road ? Little Dolly-boy ! Not now 
 rigged out in style, but as plain and homely in dress 
 
 " As myself," laughingly interrupted Harvey. 
 
 "Yes. But you can afford to dress splendidly," 
 exclaimed Jack, " and I suppose he can't. He's as 
 poor as Job's cat." 
 
 '"He is not to blame for that," calmly replied 
 Harvey. 
 
 Jack was nonplused, and made no reply. Stack- 
 pole, in a sneaking, snivelling tone, said, 
 
 " I thuppothe he trieth hith beth to keep up ac- 
 quaintanth with you." 
 
 " He makes no effort of that kind," was the curt 
 answer. 
 
 " You don't pretend that a fellow of your sense 
 and spirit makes a companion of such a stupid 
 jackass as Clarenth Wothe," retorted Jack, with a 
 malicious sneer. 
 
 " You would oblige me, boys, by dropping this 
 
UNWELCOME FRIENDS. 107 
 
 subject. Let me help you to another joint of tur 
 key. I think you have a special liking for turkeys." 
 
 " Now, that's an insinuation I shouldn't have ex 
 pected from you, Harvey Amadore," cried Jack, 
 reddening with anger, and throwing down the knife 
 and fork which he had been plying most vigorously, 
 while cramming in the relishing Christmas dinner 
 Aunty Dotty had ordered. 
 
 " Come, Jack, don't be vexed ; have your plate 
 changed, and try some of this chicken pie." 
 
 " There's rhyme and reason in that," said Jack, 
 recovering himself, and handing his plate to the 
 waiter. 
 
 " Why, you live like a prince," said Stackpole, 
 in that mean, toadying manner which always dis 
 gusted Harvey Amadore. " I shouldn't think you'd 
 want to come back to old Warren's." 
 
 " I am very much attached to Mr. Warren, and 
 hope to pass another year with him." 
 
 " And then I suppose you will go to college." 
 
 " I am not going to college." 
 
 "Not going to college !"' exclaimed Jack and 
 Stackpole in the same breath. 
 
 "No, I am not." 
 
 " Well, you are going to try the otium cum digni- 
 tate, and live like a gentleman," said Jack, spouting 
 out the Latin phrase with astounding emphasis. 
 
 " I intend to be a farmer," answered Harvey, 
 coolly. 
 
108 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 "A farmer? You are joking," retorted Stack- 
 pole. 
 
 " I am in sober earnest. But here comes Aunty 
 Dotty's dessert mince pies, of course." 
 
 " And other things to match," said Jack, rolling 
 his one eye around upon the " goodies." " But 
 where's your wine, Harvey ? " 
 
 " Aunty and I go for temperance." 
 
 " But give us at least a bottle of champagne," 
 said Jack. 
 
 " I haven't such an article in the house." 
 
 " Now, that's real mean, I say, when you can so 
 well afford it," was the rude remark of bully Jim- 
 son, to which Harvey deigned no reply. 
 
 " You haven't asked how we happened to be here 
 to-day," said Stackpole, willing to change the sub 
 ject. 
 
 " No. How did it happen ? " 
 
 " We're on a spree. Jack lives twenty miles off 
 from this place. I am spending part of my holi 
 days with him. So this morning we saw a fine 
 horse and a new sleigh standing before the tavern. 
 Says Jack, ' Suppose we jump in, and take a drive, 
 and I'll pay all expenses.' So we tumbled in, and 
 drove here like the mischief." 
 
 "But what will the owner say, when he misses 
 his horse and sleigh? I am afraid yon will get 
 into trouble, even if you do pay for the use of 
 them," said Harvey. 
 
UNWELCOME FRIENDS. 109 
 
 " lie may whistle for his pay," said Jack. " He 
 will be at the tavern all day, carousing and playing 
 cards, and by the time he wants to go home we 
 shall be there." 
 
 " A very bad spree, as you call it. Let me ad 
 vise you to hasten home," said Harvey, gravely. 
 
 " I see you want to get rid of us as soon as pos 
 sible, Mr. Amadore. Order my horse to the door, 
 if you please," angrily blurted out Jack Jimson. 
 
 "Where does Clarenth Wo the live?" inquired 
 Stackpole, with a malicious grin. 
 
 " About half a "mile from this place ; but I hope 
 you don't intend paying him a visit," anxiously re 
 plied Harvey. 
 
 " I shall do what I please about that, without 
 asking your leave," said Jack, tossing back his head 
 like a vicious horse, and regarding Harvey spite 
 fully with his one eye. 
 
 The equipage was soon at the door. Jack, hav 
 ing obtained more direct information, with regard to 
 the dwelling-place of Clarence, of the man who 
 held his horse, threw him a sixpence, and drove off, 
 making a haughty bow to Harvey, who stood upon 
 the door-step, anxiously watching to see what direc 
 tion the two scamps would take. 
 
110 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 A SHOWER BATH. 
 
 WHEN Clarence heard the sleigh-bells approach 
 ing the cottage, he suspected his quondam school 
 mates were coming to pay him a visit. Hastily he 
 retreated to his small bedroom, took up a book, and 
 told his sister to say he was engaged, and could not 
 see them. 
 
 Soon the horse was stopped, and Stackpole, get 
 ting out of the sleigh, rapped loudly at the door. 
 
 " Is Clarenth Wothe at home?" asked Stackpole 
 rudely of Lucy, who opened the door. 
 
 " If you mean my brother, he is at home ; but 
 he is engaged at present, and cannot see you," said 
 Lucy, in her own gentle, sweet manner. 
 
 " Haw, haw, haw ! " shouted Jack, with his usual 
 loud horse-laugh. " So Dolly-boy is still trying to 
 play the gentleman. That's too ridiculous." 
 
 Mrs. Paverley was not at home, and Lucy, not 
 knowing how else to defend herself from their im 
 pertinence, closed and locked the door. 
 
 " Take up that stick of wood and give a rousing 
 thump on the old door," said Jack to his companion. 
 
 Stackpole obeyed his master, for such indeed was 
 Jack to him. 
 
' So you thought you'd take a sliowrr -bath this warm day." 
 
 Page 111. 
 
A SHOWER BATH. Ill 
 
 Peter now sprang from the settle where he had 
 been seated, and without considering his lameness, 
 seized a bucket of water, and suddenly opening the 
 door, threw the contents of the bucket over Stack- 
 pole, drenching him from head to foot ; and then 
 the door was quickly closed and locked again. 
 
 Stackpole stood shivering and shaking, while the 
 merciless Jack laughed tremendously at the misfor 
 tune of his so-called friend. 
 
 So completely were they occupied with what was 
 going on at the cottage, that the runaway boys did 
 not notice the stealthy approach of a large sleigh 
 with a pair of horses without bells. Two stout 
 men were in the sleigh. One of them sprang out 
 when at a short distance from Jack, and stepping 
 up to the boy, who was laughing at Stackpole, 
 seized him by the shoulder, calling him a " thief," 
 with oaths that need not be repeated. 
 
 " So you thought you'd take a shower-bath this 
 warm day," shouted the other man to the dripping 
 Stackpole. 
 
 The man who had seized Jack by the shoulder 
 was the owner of the horse and sleigh which the 
 boys had stolen ; and he now jumped in beside 
 Jack, and seizing the reins, drove off at full speed. 
 
 Meantime, the other man ordered Stackpole to 
 get into the larger sleigh with him ; and when the 
 shivering Stackpole obeyed, the man humanely 
 wrapped him in a buffalo skin, saying, with a laugh, 
 
112 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 " If I didn't do this you would have an ice-coat on 
 before the end of the journey. Now you can take a 
 sweat. Sam Thurston, the owner of yonder horse 
 and sleigh, said he'd make the runaways sweat for it." 
 
 " It was all his doings, Ja.ck Jimson's. I never 
 should have thought of such a thing if it hadn't been 
 for Jack ; and he promised to pay all expenses." 
 
 Just as it might have been expected, the mean, 
 cringing Stackpole threw all the blame upon his 
 companion. 
 
 Such is the friendship between men and boys of 
 base, degraded minds and hearts. 
 
 The drive of twenty miles was far from an agree 
 able one ; and when the man who carried Jack to 
 his home gave in his bill for the use of the horse 
 and sleigh, the father was astonished at the amount ; 
 but fearing his son might receive some worse pun 
 ishment if he refused, he paid it, hoping that he 
 should be able to induce Stackpole to pay a part of it. 
 
 When that forlorn individual arrived, about half 
 an hour after Jack, it was quite late ; and poor 
 Stackpole was so exhausted that he could scarcely 
 move. The man was obliged to lift him out and 
 carry him into the house. 
 
 When it was explained to Mrs. Jimson that the 
 boy had been drenched with cold water, and after 
 wards had a drive of twenty miles on a freezing 
 day, she was seriously alarmed, arid a warm bed 
 and warm tea were prepared for him. 
 
A SHOWER BATH. 113 
 
 When lie was thus made comfortable, Mrs. Jim- 
 son went to the room where he was, and inquired 
 how he felt, and whether she should send for a phy 
 sician. 
 
 " I don't want a doctor," was the reply ; "he 
 would have to be paid. I am not going to be sick, 
 and I won't take nasty medicine." 
 
 " I hope you are not going to be ill," said Mrs. 
 Jimson, kindly. 
 
 " Jack got me into all this trouble. I shouldn't 
 have thought of taking the sleigh if he hadn't pro 
 posed it. And going to see that contemptible fel 
 low, Clarence Hose, was his doing, and is the rea 
 son why I almost got my death of cold." 
 
 Contemptible ! Who was contemptible now ? 
 Mean, sneaking Stackpole Clap. 
 
 Boys generally detest meanness. A generous, 
 noble spirit, in youth, has been a distinguishing 
 trait in the character of all truly great men. You 
 would as soon expect a stunted mountain-cedar to 
 grow up into a noble, far-spreading elm tree, as for 
 a mean boy to become a generous, benevolent 
 man. 
 
 No, indeed. Mean boys make hatefully mean 
 men. Some become niggardly misers, and some 
 servile politicians, instead of honest statesmen ; 
 others, sneaking pettifoggers, instead of honorable 
 lawyers. The germ of character manifests itself 
 early in life. 
 
114 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 Now, Stackpole Clap was what Shakespeare calls 
 a " sncakup." He was always ready to join in any 
 diversion, or feast, when other boys were to pay the 
 cost. He was always the retainer or hanger-on of 
 the strongest boy in the school, because he was a 
 coward. He tried to be the companion of the most 
 popular boys, because lie had no admirers of his 
 own ; and he courted the rich boys, because he could 
 not appreciate worth that could not be counted in 
 dollars and cents. 
 
 Jack Jimson was a fighting bully, a bad fellow ; 
 but he was at this time a pink in comparison with 
 Stackpole Clap, in the estimation of noble-hearted 
 boys, though, in fact, the tendencies of his charac 
 ter were more dangerous. 
 
 Mrs. Jimson left the room, which she had entered 
 to comfort and cheer the sufferer, utterly disgusted 
 with the boy ; and unhappy as she was at the mis 
 conduct of her own son, she was thankful that he was 
 not like that ungrateful cub whom Jack had al 
 lowed to be his companion. This was quite natu 
 ral to a mother, and with a mother's tender feeling 
 she thought the father quite severe upon Jack, after 
 she had made the comparison between the two 
 boys. 
 
 Yet she was mistaken. Mr, Jimson was not too 
 severe. He paid a large sum to the owner of the 
 horse and sleigh, and deprived Jack of pocket- 
 money for half a year. Moreover, he sentenced 
 
STRONG MEW. 115 
 
 him to be shut up in a small room in the fourth 
 story for a month, to be spent in entire solitude, 
 supplied with his ordinary food and an abundance 
 of good books. He was not allowed to see Stack- 
 pole, even to bid him good by. 
 
 That miserable fellow recovered in a few days, 
 and was sent home, to pass there the remainder of 
 the holidays. A letter of advice from Mr. Jimson 
 to Mrs. Clap, who was a widow, the boy carried 
 home with him, and delivered it to his mother. 
 Bitterly she wept over that letter, for Stackpole 
 was her only child, and she had made a great sacri 
 fice in sparing him from home to give him an edu 
 cation. She was, however, in comfortable circum 
 stances, and there was no reason in the world why 
 Stackpole should be such an unmitigatedly mean 
 fellow. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 STRONG- MEN. 
 
 AFTER Harvey returned to school, he wrote to his 
 excellent guardian, Mr. Hosea Fenton, describing 
 Clarence Rose, his early education, and the charac 
 ter that had been induced by it, and asking advice 
 about what he, Harvey, should do for his friend. 
 In a short time he received the following letter : 
 
116 TRUE MANLIJVESS. 
 
 Mr. Hosea Fenton to Harvey Amadore : 
 
 NEW YORK, January 10, 18. 
 
 MY DEAR HARVEY : Your frank and confiden 
 tial letter of the 6th inst. was duly received. In 
 reply, I give you the best advice of which I am 
 capable. 
 
 In our great republic we need strong men 
 men of physical strength, men of mental strength, 
 men of moral strength. You know boys are to be 
 educated with reference to their manhood. Your 
 young friend is effeminate. More's the pity. We 
 have an abundance of such weak timber mere 
 willow saplings. We want " hearts of oak." We 
 want real Spartans. 
 
 I would not have our sickly children carried away 
 to caverns to die, or drowned in the ocean ; but I 
 would have strict attention paid to their physical 
 development. 
 
 You know that the Spartan boys were sent to 
 school, when they were no more than seven years 
 old, to be taught how to wrestle and be brave at 
 fisticuffs, so that they might make first-rate fighters. 
 They were educated to be mere soldiers ; that was 
 unwise, wrong. 
 
 You know the Spartan urchins wore the same 
 clothing, as to warmth, summer and winter. They 
 lay on hard beds, and they often had to go without 
 their dinner. 
 
 Now, this last I don't approve of ; but I do ap- 
 
STRONG MEAT, 117 
 
 prove of temperance, strict temperance in food and 
 drink. None of your gluttons or guzzletonians for 
 me. Parents are greatly to blame who allow their 
 children to cloy their appetites with cakes, sweet 
 meats, and confectionery. Weak stomachs are the 
 consequence, and flaccid muscles, and sappy heads.* 
 
 You know how the Spartan boys were flogged, 
 half out of their lives, to learn how to bear pain. 
 Nay, they were sometimes beaten to death without 
 uttering a groan. The Spartan mothers must have 
 been rather hard-hearted very different, indeed, 
 from the too soft-hearted mothers of our day, or 
 they would have raised an awful outcry against 
 such cruel proceedings. 
 
 We need Athenian refinement to soften down 
 Spartan hardihood. 
 
 Better far the Christian hardihood like that of 
 the apostle Paul. He made " that determined, 
 almost proud resolve, c I will not be brought under 
 
 * " A certain degree of selfishness is likely to be somehow devel 
 oped in children, for sin of every kind is selfish; but the lowest, 
 meanest, and most utterly degraded type of selfishness is the sen 
 sualthat which centres in the body,, and makes everything bend 
 to bodily sensation. And yet the early feeding and growth of chil- 
 drpu tend how often ! to just this, and nothing higher. * * 
 
 "This training he will quite seldom or never outgrow; on the 
 contrary, it will overgrow him, and subjugate all nobler impulses 
 in him. Kindness, it may be, has done it ; but it is that kindness 
 which is better called cruelty. Coarseness of feeling, lowuess of 
 impulse, gluttony, dissipation, drunkenness, all foul passions 
 that kennel in a sensual soul, it has cherished as a foster-mother." 
 
 II OK ACE BUSHNELL. 
 
118 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 the power of any.' Under the body ? No ; he 
 will scorn that low kind of thraldom. Meats, 
 drinks, appetites? None of these shall have the 
 mastery over him. He will assert the supreme 
 right of the soul, or person, above the house it lives 
 in ; so, God's preeminent right in the soul." 
 
 How else could Paul have endured such terrible 
 physical suffering? He says, "Of the Jews five 
 times received I forty stripes save one ; thrice was 
 I beaten with rods ; once w r as I stoned ; thric.e I 
 suffered shipwreck ; a night and a day have I been 
 in the deep ; in weariness and painfulness ; in 
 watchings often ; in cold and nakedness." 
 
 Brave, heroic St. Paul ! Never would he have 
 become " Paul the aged," if his early life had not 
 rendered him strong in body to endure such a fear 
 ful amount of physical suffering. His trade as a 
 tent-maker had strengthened his muscles. 
 
 Much is said in these days about muscular train 
 ing. Dumb-bells may do well enough for those who 
 haven't a chance to swing an axe, and wooden clubs 
 for those who haven't the opportunity to handle the 
 spade and the plough. I contend it is better to 
 harden the muscles by labor, which has a useful re 
 sult, than that which is merely beating the air. 
 Yet gymnastics aVe good in their place. 
 
 You will best subserve the true interest of your 
 friend by leaving him, at present, in the station of 
 life to which God has called him. If he has talents 
 
STROJVO MEJY. 119 
 
 for some other station, they will be, in time, devel 
 oped. President Lincoln was not designed to be all 
 his life a rail-splitter. David, the shepherd boy, was 
 not always to be a keeper of sheep. 
 
 Say to your friend, in the strong language of a 
 modern author, " Your life is a school, exactly 
 adapted to your lesson, and that to the best, last 
 end of your existence. No room for a discouraged 
 or a depressed feeling therefore is left you. If your 
 sphere is outwardly humble, if it even appears to 
 be quite insignificant, God understands it better 
 than you do, and it is a part of his wisdom to bring 
 out great sentiments in humble conditions, great 
 characters under great adversities and heavy loads 
 of encumbrance. The tallest saints of God will 
 often be those who walk in the deepest obscurity, 
 and are even despised or quite overlooked by man. 
 Whatever you have laid upon you to do or to 
 suffer, whatever to want, whatever to surrender, or 
 to conquer, is exactly best for you. 
 
 " Away, then, with all feeble complaints, all mea 
 gre and mean anxieties. Understand, also, that the 
 great question here is not what you will get, but 
 what you will become. The greatest wealth you 
 can ever get will be in yourself. Take your bur 
 dens, and losses, and wrongs, if come they must 
 and will, as your opportunities, knowing that God 
 has girded you for greater things than these." 
 
 Your friend is fond of dress. He will then inev 
 itably have a craving for money, to gratify his taste 
 
120 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 for finery, and other luxuries, and for show of all 
 kinds. This must be crushed out. Alas ! extrav 
 agance is the insatiable monster gnawing at the 
 very vitals of our community. For the attainment 
 of wealth what immense efforts are made, what 
 awful sacrifices endured ! The King of Dahomey, 
 who revels in murder and every abominable crime, 
 is said to be intensely fond of dress. Savages gen 
 erally are so. It is said, too, to be a feminine 
 weakness. A man, a whole-souled, noble man, 
 should despise such weakness in himself. To be 
 neat in person, and dressed according to fitness, 
 that is, the station in life and the means, is abso 
 lutely required of every man. Effeminate fops, 
 with diamond rings and delicate white kid gloves, 
 are not the kind of beings we need in our republic. 
 
 While laboring with the hands faithfully, your 
 friend can still go on with the cultivation of his 
 mind. He may make that his recreation at odd 
 times. This is needed to counteract the other in 
 fluence I mean of strengthening the muscles. 
 We don't want gladiators, prize-fighters, pugilists. 
 We want the mens sana in corpore sano. 
 
 Moreover, and above all, we want good, strong 
 Christian men men of strong will to do right, in 
 subjection to the will of God men of integrity 
 that is, whole, out-and-out Christians, better in 
 every respect as men and citizens, because they are 
 Christians. " More has always been done for God 
 and man by acts than by words." 
 
STRONG MEW. 121 
 
 And another of my favorite authors says, that 
 " the greatness or smallness of a man is, in the most 
 conclusive sense, determined for him at his birth, as 
 strictly as it is determined for a fruit, whether it is 
 to be a currant or an apricot. Education, favorable 
 circumstances, resolution, and industry can do much ; 
 in a certain sense they do everything ; that is to 
 say, whether the poor apricot shall fall in the form 
 of a green bead, blighted by an east wind, shall be 
 trodden under foot, or whether it shall expand into 
 tender pride and sweet brightness of golden velvet. 
 But apricot out of currant, great men out of small, 
 did never yet art or effort make. The small fruits 
 in their serviceable bunches, the great in their 
 golden isolation, have, the one no cause for regret, 
 nor the other for disdain." 
 
 And now, my dear Harvey, you must pardon 
 me for taxing you with so long an epistle. Show it 
 to your friend if you think best. Aid him in every 
 way with money, advice, and, above all, example ; 
 but let him remain with his family ; there is the 
 place for him at present ; and, above all, let him 
 help himself. 
 
 "Let us, then, be up and doing, 
 
 With a heart for any fate, 
 Still achieving, still pursuing, 
 
 Learn to labor and to wait." 
 
 Faithfully your friend, 
 
 HOSEA FENTON. 
 
122 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 Harvey enclosed his guardian's letter in one of 
 his own, and sent it to Clarence. 
 
 Harvey's own letter was as follows : 
 
 MY DEAR CLARENCE : You will find enclosed 
 Mr. Hosea Fenton's letter of good advice. We 
 boys don't much relish advice, and yet we need it 
 now r as much as we needed the rod when we were 
 toddling youngsters. I remember the tinglings of 
 the rod, and am sure the smart did me good ; so 
 advice sometimes makes us smart, but we ought to 
 profit by it. 
 
 My good guardian is a plain-spoken, honest man, 
 and I trust you will not be offended by his frank 
 ness. 
 
 I send you the " Life of Stevenson," the famous 
 inventor of steam carriages, and another volume en 
 titled " Lives of Eminent Mechanics." You will 
 find that many of the men, who became useful and 
 distinguished, had to surmount immense obstacles. 
 
 I have not much school news to communicate. 
 
 Mr. Warren found Stackpole Clap such a disa 
 greeable member of our family circle that he Avas 
 obliged to send him home. After his return to 
 school, instead of being better for the loss of his 
 crony, Jack Jimson, he became much worse than 
 formerly in endeavoring to imitate Jack ; he beat 
 the copy, as we say : not in daring, but in insolence. 
 He was excessively impertinent to Mrs. Warren, 
 
STRONG MEN. 123 
 
 and tormented and embarrassed me, by being a 
 constant hanger-on and an egregious flatterer. 
 
 We are all glad to be freed from his intensely 
 disagreeable presence. I am very sorry for his 
 mother, for I am told she does not know what to do 
 with her troublesome son. 
 
 Have you conquered the S, as you did the R? 
 In this, as in many other things, C'est le premier 
 pas qui coute Perseverantia vincit omnia. 
 
 Don't call me a pedant ! 
 
 I expect to be at home before many weeks. Mr. 
 
 "Warren advises me to go to College ; not for 
 
 the whole academical course, but for the scientific 
 department alone. A knowledge of chemistry, 
 mineralogy, geology, &c., he says, is very important 
 for a farmer. 
 
 Remember me kindly to your mother and sister, 
 and believe me, Clarence, 
 
 Truly your friend, 
 
 HAKVEY AMADORE. 
 
124 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 CONQUERING DIFFICULTIES. 
 
 THE latter part of the winter of 18 was very 
 severe. In consequence of Pete's lameness, Clar 
 ence was obliged to do all the out-door work, and 
 to wait upon his brother in many ways very 
 trying to one who had always been accustomed to 
 be waited upon himself. Although so weary when 
 evening closed in, that he was in danger of felling 
 asleep, he became interested in the books furnished 
 by Harvey, and listened while Lucy or his brother 
 read aloud. 
 
 It was a great source of mortification to Clarence 
 that Peter could read out better than he could, be 
 cause his brother did not lisp, and had a good, 
 strong voice. 
 
 Peter had been to school only two winters ; yet he 
 had learned to read well and to write a tolerable 
 hand : he had, besides, made some advance in arith 
 metic, and now set about improving himself with a 
 zeal which quite astonished Clarence, and stimulated 
 him to exert himself. 
 
 When the wintry storm howled about the cottage, 
 and the snow was driven furiously against the win 
 dows, the scene within was bright and cheery. 
 
CONQUERING DIFFICULTIES. 125 
 
 The stove sent forth its genial warmth. Two 
 tallow candles on the pine table did not mate a 
 brilliant light, but it was quite sufficient for the 
 readers. 
 
 Mrs. Paverley was employed with her knitting, 
 and Lucy with sewing, while Pete read out to them. 
 Clarence, to keep himself awake, set about whittling 
 a winding-reel and a work-box for his sister. 
 
 This was a fine time for softening down the 
 roughness of Pete's character. 
 
 As for Clarence, he was thriving on plain diet and 
 hard w^ork. He began to grow amazingly, both in 
 height and breadth. His narrow chest was expand 
 ing, and his shoulders becoming broad. He cried 
 only now and then, when his fingers ached cruelly, 
 or the tips of his ears were frozen. Who wouldn't 
 cry under such circumstances, excepting, always, 
 those tough-skinned, wonderful Spartan boys ? 
 
 Clarence was taking lessons of his sister in elocu 
 tion. Like Demosthenes, he had a great difficulty 
 to be overcome in the art of speaking. He did not, 
 like that famous orator, put pebbles in his mouth, 
 nor roar to the sea till he was himself as hoarse 
 as the waves dashing against a, rocky coast. He 
 hissed and sissed, keeping his teeth tightly shut to 
 hold his tongue in, until at last he could say sister 
 the first word he uttered without lisping ; and it 
 ought to. have been, for Lucy had taken unwearied 
 pains with him to conquer this defect in his speech. 
 
126 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 Glad was Clarence when the winter was over, 
 and showery April, the month of smiles and tears, 
 was renovating the earth and clothing it with a new 
 verdant mantle. 
 
 One sunny day, a face as sunny and bright was 
 heartily welcomed at the cottage. 
 
 " I am right glad to see you, Harvey," said Clar 
 ence, laying a strong emphasis upon the " see." 
 
 Harvey smiled, made no remark upon the suc 
 cess thus achieved, but replied, 
 
 " Thank you. I find you are busy this morning ; 
 a fine morning for gardening." 
 
 Clarence was digging in the small garden at 
 tached to the cottage. 
 
 "Do -you think you will like gardening?" in 
 quired Harvey, in a manner showing he attached 
 importance to the answer. 
 
 " Yes. I shall like it better than anything I 
 have had to do since I left cool (correcting himself, 
 and coloring) since I left school." 
 
 Then throwing down his spade, he asked Harvey 
 to go in and see his mother and sister. 
 
 Harvey declined, saying he had a pressing en 
 gagement, to which he must give immediate atten 
 tion. 
 
 About two hours after Harvey left, Clarence was 
 still digging in the garden. Pete had just returned 
 from the village where he had carried the week's 
 washing, and was putting Patchy into the small 
 
CONQUERING DIFFICULTIES. 127 
 
 stable. A man appeared on the road driving a 
 small white cow and a calf, which frisked in its 
 own awkward fashion beside its mother. 
 
 " What a beautiful cow ! " exclaimed Pete. 
 
 " Is this Mrs. Paverley's? " cried the man, from 
 the road. 
 
 "It is," shouted Pete, while Clarence threw 
 down his spade, approached the man, and looked 
 anxiously at the two animals. 
 
 "Here's a bit of paper will 'splain all about the cow 
 and calf. Where shall I drive 'em ? " said the man. 
 
 Now, Pete had never heard of Harvey's promise 
 to Clarence, and was utterly astonished when his 
 brother, after glancing at the note, said, 
 
 " Drive them into the barn." 
 
 The note contained these few words : 
 
 CLAKENCE : You have conquered ! One con 
 quest is a sign of more. The cow and calf are 
 yours, honestly won. Truly your friend, 
 
 HAKVEY. 
 
 Clarence was moderately pleased, but Pete's joy 
 knew no bounds. He proved the recovered strength 
 of his ankle by jumping up and down, and the 
 strength of his lungs by shouting at the top of his 
 voice, " Hurrah ! hurrah ! What an elegant cow ! " 
 
 Like many persons more refined than himself, 
 Pete did not understand the right use of the epithet 
 " elegant" a word, the true signification of which 
 
 
128 TRUE 
 
 seeins not to be well understood in some parts of 
 our country, where they speak of elegant butter, 
 elegant potatoes, and an elegant pig ! Webster de 
 fines elegant "delicately refined, graceful, pleas 
 ing to taste." 
 
 If the cow was elegant, and the calf too, in the 
 vocabulary of Pete, so was not Pete himself, accord 
 ing to the venerable lexicographer. 
 
 He, Pete, turned two or three summersaults, 
 stood on his head, and knocked his feet together, 
 and when he came down on the right end, cut a 
 double-shuffle that could not have been excelled by 
 a Carolina negro. The calf itself might have per 
 formed these antics as gracefully. 
 
 Clarence was inclined to look very gravely upon 
 the generous gift of his friend Harvey, it not cor 
 responding at all with his notions of elegance ; but 
 Pete's ridiculous manifestations of joy quite over 
 came his gravity, and his hearty laugh was echoed 
 by Lucy, who, on hearing Pete's shouting, had has 
 tened to learn the cause. They were soon joined 
 by the mother, who, if she did not imitate Pete in 
 his manifestations, was equally pleased. With up 
 lifted arms she exclaimed, " I never ! I never, 
 never, never ! " 
 
 u You never owned so pretty a cow, mother," 
 said Clarence. " Well, she is yours. Harvey has 
 given her to me freely, to do with her what I please, 
 and I am delighted to make you a present." 
 
 " O, no, no, no ! " exclaimed the mother. 
 
FLITTING. 129 
 
 "Please don't refuse my gift. And Pete, you 
 may have the calf." 
 
 u You think ' like likes its like/ as the old prov 
 erb has it," replied Pete with a merry laugh. " I 
 will take care of the thing for you if you'll only 
 give me some hay for Whity. There ain't grass 
 enough on the Common for her yet, and Patchy 
 mustn't be starved entirely." 
 
 " I'll provide the hay," said Harvey, pointing to 
 a cart-load of hay which two oxen were drawing 
 into the barn-yard. 
 
 u That Harvey Amadore is a whole team him 
 self," exclaimed Pete, again going off into athletic 
 exercises unknown to the practice of any modern 
 gymnasium ; and then he climbed to the top of the 
 load, and helped to pitch the hay into the barn. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 FLITTING. 
 
 HARVEY consulted with his excellent guardian 
 about the future course he should pursue with 
 regard to Clarence. His advice was very judicious. 
 
 Let him become a first-rate gardener ; that is, if he 
 is capable of it. Make a trial of his capacity. I was 
 9 
 
130 TRUE MJWLIJVESS. 
 
 lately at the Lindens. I observed that the cottage 
 formerly occupied by the gardener is now vacant. 
 Suppose you remove the Paverley family to the 
 place. It is not best to separate them. You know 
 how much force there is in the trite motto, " Union 
 is strength." If you don't know it, you ought to 
 know it ; and so ought every man and boy in our 
 United States, especially at this time. "Well, to the 
 question on the tapis. Let the boy you call your 
 friend learn to take charge of your flower garden 
 and pleasure grounds. Let the other boy work on 
 the farm. The mother and daughter can make 
 butter be dairy women. Give them the oppor 
 tunity. You can but make the experiment. The 
 older boy, you say, has taste ; that is quite requisite 
 for a gardener. Give him an opportunity to culti 
 vate it with reference to gardening. Don't spoil 
 your protege, Harvey, by making him too refined 
 for his employment. 
 
 I could say more on this subject, but for want 
 of time must come to a close. 
 
 Truly your friend and guardian, 
 
 HQSEA FENTON." 
 
 On the 1st of May, the Paverley family were 
 flitting to Linden Hill. The mansion and grounds 
 attached to the place bore the name of "The Lin 
 dens." Harvey, with the consent of his guardian, 
 had left school, and had made all the needful arrange 
 ments for the removal that was now taking place. 
 
FLITTING. 131 
 
 It was for Mrs. Paverley a return to a much- 
 loved home. There she had passed the happiest 
 years of her life with her husband. The very roses, 
 honeysuckles, and clematis now spreading them 
 selves luxuriantly over the whole front and ends of 
 the cottage, and even over the roof, were planted by 
 her husband, who had been the gardener at the 
 Lindens. 
 
 The cottage had now been thoroughly repaired, 
 and a nice, cool dairy-room and ice-house had been 
 added to it. It was sufficiently spacious for the 
 accommodation of the family, having four rooms on 
 the ground floor and three finished bedrooms in the 
 attic, besides an open garret-room. 
 
 Mrs. Paverley lifted her hands with wonder and 
 delight as she entered the little parlor, exclaiming, 
 as usual, " I never ! I never ! Who would have 
 thought it ? " while Lucy, though less demonstra 
 tive, was equally pleased. 
 
 A pretty green and white paper covered the wall ; 
 three or four engravings, in walnut frames, hung 
 against it. The chairs and tables were neat, but 
 plain. But what most delighted Lucy was a book 
 case, a small bookcase, with glass doors, completely 
 filled with books. Time would show how judi 
 ciously they were selected. Clarence, at a glance, 
 perceived that many of them were upon gardening, 
 in its various departments. 
 
 Harvey had kept himself entirely out of sight 
 
132 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 while the moving was taking place. Pete seemed 
 to have the strength of a young giant, as he assisted 
 in handling the heavy boxes and barrels which con 
 tained the articles from the kitchen and pantry of 
 the old house, and lifting them from the cart to which 
 Patchy was attached (in more senses than one, if 
 close companionship could have had that effect). 
 Patchy was no longer a rack of bones, prospec 
 tive crow's meat ; he was in as good a condition as 
 Pete himself, and almost as full of life and spirit. 
 
 Clarence alone showed no signs of joy. The con 
 trast between this pretty cottage and the poor old 
 brown house from which they had removed was not 
 in his mind. He was comparing this small, simple 
 habitation with the fine mansion in which he had 
 passed so many years of petted indulgence. To 
 him, therefore, the change was of small consequence. 
 He was merely enduring the present, and looking 
 forward to the future, when he should once more 
 revel in luxury. 
 
 Clarence had carefully kept one cherished secret. 
 Mrs. Rose, on the eve of her departure, wrote to 
 him, assuring him that whenever Mr. Rose should 
 make a fortune, as he expected to do, of course, in 
 that Eldorado, California, she should claim Clarence 
 again as her son. Month after month passed, and 
 not a word for Clarence from Mr. or Mrs. Rose. 
 He much wondered at their silence ; but still hope 
 was the rainbow that cheered him with its brilliant 
 
FLITTING. 133 
 
 hues brilliant and evanescent. In his own room 
 tears were still abundant. Whatever he did in the 
 way of work was done in a perfunctory manner ; 
 there was no heart in it. Pete, on the contrary, 
 worked with a will. He had never dreamed of 
 living in such a nice cottage, and having a calf of 
 his own. He was as "happy as a lord" poor 
 comparison that. Pete was as happy as a hearty, 
 active boy, with a cheerful temperament and every 
 real want supplied, need to be. He could not under 
 stand why Clarence was not as "raving glad" as 
 Pete said he was himself, when they were settled in 
 the white cottage. . 
 
 It was the 6th of May. As lovely a twilight as 
 ever cast its golden hues over Eden now fell 
 serenely upon Linden Hill. 
 
 The white cottage was about a quarter of a mile 
 from the mansion on the hill, which, from the fine 
 avenue of linden trees, was appropriately called 
 The Lindens. 
 
 The labor of setting all "to rights" in the cot 
 tage was completed, and the Paverley family were 
 seated in the latticed porch, at the front door. The 
 perfume of violets gladdened the air. The birds 
 were having a charming concert in the neighboring 
 trees, unmindful of the added bass from a solitary 
 bullfrog. 
 
 " I say, now," said Pete, " all this seems to me 
 a queer sort of a dream - a very funny one ; and I 
 
134 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 wonder why I don't wake up and find it so. It's 
 real, though, for there co,mes Mr. Amadore." 
 
 During the removal and until this time Harvey 
 had not made his appearance at the cottage. The 
 family rose at his approach. 
 
 " Keep your seats, I beg of you ; don't let me 
 disturb you. I will sit upon this step, if you 
 please." 
 
 Lucy immediately went in doors, brought out a 
 chair, and placed it upon the grass, near the steps. 
 
 u Thank you ; since you have taken that trouble, 
 I can't refuse," said Harvey, as he seated himself. 
 " What a perfect evening ! " he continued. " I 
 hope, Mrs. Paverley, you find yourself comfortably 
 settled." 
 
 "O, Mr. Harvey, we owe you so much!" ex 
 claimed the grateful woman. 
 
 " You owe me nothing " 
 
 "No," interrupted Pete, " we'don't mean to owe 
 anybody. I expect to work for my living. I don't 
 mean to be a hanger-on to anybody." 
 
 " That's the right spirit," said Harvey. " You 
 are not dependent upon me. I expect to pay you 
 wages by the month for your work on the farm, and 
 the same to Clarence for gardening. If Mrs. Pa 
 verley and Lucy find the work of the dairy too 
 much for them, I know of a stout woman who can 
 help them." 
 
 " No, indeed ! We are used to hard work. I was 
 
FLITTING. 135 
 
 brought up on a farm, and can make butter as yellow 
 as gold ! " said Mrs. Paverley. 
 
 " Half the produce of the dairy will belong to 
 you, and the other half goes to the credit of the 
 farm. Will this satisfy you all ? " 
 
 " Entirely," said the mother. " And what are 
 we to pay for house-rent ? " 
 
 " This cottage has always been free to the gar 
 dener. It is so now, if Clarence agrees to the 
 arrangement." 
 
 Harvey did not look at Clarence as he said this ; 
 if he. had, he might have seen two unbidden tears 
 roll over a pair of flushed cheeks. Alas ! they were 
 not tears of gratitude. Pride was throbbing at the 
 heart of the boy, and with a voice half choked, he 
 muttered, 
 
 " Thank you." 
 
 Harvey replied, " No thanks to me, Clarence. I 
 expect to have to thank you one of these days. You 
 and Pete have a glorious opportunity for helping 
 yourselves, and becoming strong men through your 
 own exertions. I have often wished that I could 
 do the same, and win my way against wind and 
 tide ; but it has not been so ordered," he added, 
 reverently, " and I must try to do the best I can, 
 God helping me, in the position in which he has 
 placed me. But to change the subject somewhat 
 abruptly, if you will come to the Hall to-morrow 
 morning, Clarence, you and your brother, I will 
 
136 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 make you acquainted with the gardener and the 
 farmer, under whose directions you will, for the 
 present, be placed." 
 
 " That I will, after I have taken care of Whity 
 and Pet. You ought to see my calf how wonder 
 ful she has grown in a month. Would you be 
 willing to step to the barn, and look at the pretty 
 creature ? " 
 
 " Certainly," said Harvey, starting up, ready to 
 follow Pete. " Good evening, Mrs. Paverley ; good 
 evening, Lucy. Clarence, will you go with us ? " 
 
 u No, I thank you ; I haven't the same admira 
 tion for calves that Pete has." 
 
 There was more of the puppy in Clarence than 
 he himself suspected, or than his true friend was 
 willing to believe. 
 
 So Harvey and Pete went together to the barn, 
 and Mrs. Paverley and Lucy into the cottage, leav 
 ing Clarence to his sulkiness ; for sulky he was, 
 rather than sad ; dissatisfied with himself, and with 
 everybody else. 
 
 Buoyed up he had been through the severe win 
 ter, amid all his trials, by the hope of being once 
 more with his indulgent mamma, when he ought to 
 have been grateful for the kind, good mother God 
 had given him a blessing beyond all price. In 
 her extremity she had parted with him, but she had 
 never ceased to love him, and to pray for him. 
 
 The next morning the countenance of Clarence 
 
FLITTING. 137 
 
 had assumed a more pleasant expression. How 
 could he resist the influence of such a beautiful 
 morning, when all nature was in holiday garb, 
 rejoicing in the sweet breath and charming melody 
 of the renovating spring? 
 
 Though his taste had been perverted by selfish 
 ness, and all that was bright and beautiful had been 
 considered mainly, or almost entirely, as means for 
 his personal adornment, yet the boy possessed, as a 
 good gift, taste, which needed cultivation and a 
 right direction. 
 
 Earth was not made so beautiful for beasts nor 
 for blind men morally blind ! 
 
 As the boys walked rapidly to the Lindens, the 
 thoughts that occupied their minds were widely 
 different. 
 
 Pete thought, " What a nice thing to be a 
 farmer ! " Clarence thought, " What a miserable 
 lot is mine, to be a gardener ! Arid yet it's better 
 than being a farmer." And so they walked on in 
 silence, till they reached the great gate at the en 
 trance of Linden Hill. There Harvey was waiting 
 for them. He directed Pete to a distant field, where 
 the farmer was planting potatoes. 
 
 " Tell him to set you to work," said Harvey. 
 
 Pete ran off at full speed, and then Harvey led 
 the way to the garden, accompanied by Clarence. 
 Harvey did not appear to notice the discontented 
 air of his companion. The gardener was a Scotch- 
 
138 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 man ; a small, gray-headed man, with a shrewd 
 countenance, and a cheek like " a rose ill the snaw." 
 He was stooping over a bed of hyacinths. As the 
 two boys approached, he raised himself, and, taking 
 off his woollen cap, make a nod, rather than a bow. 
 
 " Sandy, I have brought the lad I was speaking 
 to you about. You can teach him gardening." 
 
 Sandy closed one eye, and with the other scruti 
 nized Clarence for a full minute. 
 
 "But, mon," said he, addressing Harvey, u ken 
 ye. if the lad has the giftie for it?" 
 
 " We shall see ; we shall see. There's nothing 
 like trying. What splendid hyacinths ! " 
 
 The attention of Clarence had been drawn to the 
 beautiful array of flowers, white, pink, purple, yel 
 low, fresh and dewy, rejoicing in the bright morn 
 ing sun. 
 
 In his button-hole Sandy had a daisy, and Harvey 
 remarked, " That little flower seems to be a favor 
 ite, Sandy." 
 
 " And wherefore na' ? l Wee modest, crimson- 
 tippet flower,' as Bobby Burns called it. Not your 
 American daisy, the" uncanny thing that spoils the 
 hay in this country. That white-weed is not a 
 daisy." 
 
 Sandy saw that Clarence was admiring the hya 
 cinths heartily, and with a knowing wink to Har 
 vey, whispered, "He'll do." 
 
 " I'll leave him with you, Sandy, to show him 
 
ALL IS JVOZ 7 GOLD THAT GLITTERS. 139 
 
 your garden and green-house. Good morning, Clar 
 ence." So saying, Harvey walked away. 
 
 As Sandy turned from the bed of hyacinths, he 
 beckoned to Clarence to follow ; and as Clarence did 
 so, he heard the old man repeating, from his favorite 
 Burns, 
 
 " To catch Dame Fortune's golden smile, 
 
 Assiduous wait upon her ; 
 And gather gear by every wile 
 
 That's justified by honor ; 
 Not for to hide it in a hedge, 
 
 Not for a train attendant, 
 But for the glorious privilege 
 
 Of being independent." 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 ALL IS NOT GOLD THAT GLITTERS. 
 
 SPRING had decked the garden at the Lindens 
 with her choicest flowers. Summer, not to be out 
 done, spread a brighter, gayer tapestry over mother 
 earth, and was almost ready to yield up her reign 
 to Autumn, when Clarence received the following 
 letter : 
 
 SAN FUANCISCO, March 30. 
 
 MY DEAR CLARENCE : You must have been 
 troubled by not hearing from us for so long ; but 
 
140 TRUE JIMJYLIJYESS. 
 
 we had a very long and stormy passage, seasick 
 all the way, and did not arrive till nearly five 
 months after we left New York, going by the way 
 of Cape Horn. O, that dreadful voyage ! And 
 now I did hope to send my precious something 
 pretty from California at least a fine gold pin, or 
 a ring ; but, Clarence, we are poor. Your papa 
 has been quite sick ever since we have been here, 
 and hasn't done any business at all ; so that we 
 arc still living on the money we brought with us, 
 and now that is nearly gone. I don't know what 
 we shall do when it is all gone, for we have no 
 relatives or friends here. 
 
 I can't think of you without tears, suffering, as 
 you must be, all the evils of poverty, so delicately 
 and genteelly brought up as you have been. I did 
 hope we should be able to send for you to come out 
 to us ; but I give up the hope now, and I am afraid 
 I shall never see you again. 
 
 Your papa sends love, and says, " Tell Clarence 
 to keep up good courage, and try to make the best 
 of his situation. A boy with resolution and right 
 principles can get along well in our country, if he 
 only has health. Opportunities arc never wanting 
 to those who are ready to make the best use of 
 them." You must write to me, my darling, and 
 tell me all about yourself. Have you grown taller? 
 I hope you haven't lost your pretty complexion. I 
 should be sorry to sec you all sun-burned arid coarse- 
 
ALL IS JV07 1 GOLD THAT GLITTERS. 141 
 
 looking. Don't fail to brush your teeth, and to keep 
 your nails clean. Remember me to your mother. 
 I hope she takes good care of your clothes. It is a 
 comfort to me to think you had nice full suits of all 
 kinds when I left you. I think they must last a good 
 while. And now, darling, I must say good by. 
 Ever your loving 
 
 MAMMA. 
 
 Tears and smiles chased each other over the face 
 of Clarence as he read this characteristic letter. 
 He valued the true affection of Mrs. Rose, mingled 
 as it was with her more than womanly weakness. 
 Now the hope he had so fondly cherished of being 
 once more with Mr. and Mrs. Rose, and enjoying 
 the luxuries which had rendered him so eifemi- 
 nate, that hope was entirely swept away, and he 
 resigned himself to his present condition. More 
 over, for the first time, he felt a warm glow of 
 gratitude to Harvey Amadore. 
 
 Clarence sought his sister, to tell her about Mrs. 
 Rose. Lucy was busily employed in the dairy, 
 working up the nice, yellow butter into rolls, and 
 stamping them with the American eagle a design 
 Clarence himself had cut in wood for that purpose. 
 
 Lucy saw at once that Clarence had been weep 
 ing. Indeed, the briny fountain at the corners of 
 his eyes seemed perennial, and overflowed on the 
 least provocation. 
 
142 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 In this case he was excusable ; for he really 
 loved Mrs. Rose. 
 
 When Lucy had heard the sad news, she was not 
 surprised at her brother's grief. 
 
 u What should we have done without Harvey?" 
 exclaimed Clarence. " I intend, now, to work with 
 a will, for I am beginning to like gardening." 
 
 " It was man's work when he was in a state of 
 innocence, and it has been the delight of thousands 
 and millions since the fall," said Lucy, with en 
 thusiasm. 
 
 " Do you know, Lucy, I mean to make a first- 
 rate gardener? This is my resolution on this my 
 fifteenth birthday." 
 
 " It's a splendid resolution. I'll follow it up with 
 another. I mean to make the best dairy-woman in 
 the country. Do you know our butter already sells 
 for the highest price in market ? " 
 
 " I should think it would, for it is the sweetest, 
 nicest butter I ever put into my mouth. I wish 
 poor mamma had some of it, and a bouquet, too, 
 of our beautiful flowers. But I must go to work ; 
 I have already staid too long. By the way, our 
 night-blooming cereus will be out 'this evening. 
 Will you go with me to the Hall, and see it? Sandy 
 told me to ask you." 
 
 " I shall be delighted to go. Good morning." 
 
 With an elastic step, and a determined air, Clar 
 ence sped over the ground till he reached the garden 
 
JILL IS JV07 1 GOLD THAT GLITTERS. 143 
 
 at the Lindens. The way in which he attacked the 
 weeds in one of the flower-beds, with a small hoe, 
 quite amused Sandy. 
 
 " O, mon, I think you handle your hoe this morn 
 ing so as to put the flowers in danger of their lives. 
 You must suppose you are fighting your foes," said 
 Sandy, leaning on his spade, and looking anxiously 
 after the fate of his dear verbenas. 
 "I am fighting my enemies, the weeds," said 
 Clarence, good-naturedly, " and worse enemies 
 still Pride and Laziness." 
 
 " Weel, you'll root them sins out, tough as they 
 are. You've made a right good beginnin'. 
 
 ' What tho' on hamely fare we dine, 
 
 Wear liodden gray, and a' that ; 
 Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine - 
 
 A mon 's a mon for a' that, 
 For a' that, and a' that, 
 
 Their tinsel show, and a' that. 
 The honest man, though e'er sae poor, 
 
 Is king o' men for a' that.' 
 
 Do you know, Master Clarence, that the greatest and 
 wisest king that ever lived was a great botanist ? " 
 " I did not know it. Who was he?" 
 " Why, Solomon, sure ; he knew plants from the 
 cedar of Lebanon to the moss upon the wall. And 
 David, too, he knew all about the nature of trees. 
 Didn't he compare the good mon to the palm tree, 
 and the bad mon to the poison bay tree. Don't 
 
144 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 you remember the beautiful varse in the Psalms that 
 ends thus, where David speaks of the good mon? 
 
 ' He shall be fat and full of sap, 
 And aye be flourishing.' " 
 
 Sandy flourished his spade by way of giving em 
 phasis to this last quotation, and then vigorously 
 resumed his work. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 AUNTY DOTTY'S CALL. 
 
 AUNTY DOTTY was curious to see the Paverley 
 family in their new home, and yet she allowed 
 months to elapse before she paid them a visit at the 
 gardener's cottage. At last she made up her mind 
 to go there, and arrayed herself in that beloved 
 changeable silk, put on her black satin coal-scoop 
 bonnet, drew on a pair of long black mitts, and 
 walked off in as stately a manner as she could pos 
 sibly assume. 
 
 It was just at sunset of a summer evening. Mrs. 
 Paverley and Lucy were milking the cows in a little 
 meadow through which a merry brook rejoiced on 
 its Avinding way. Clarence was lingering at the 
 Lindens, listening to Sandy's " wise saws and mod 
 ern instances." 
 
AUMTY DOTTY'S CALL. 145 
 
 As Aunty Dotty drew near the cottage she saw 
 Pete, who was nailing up a honeysuckle which 
 threatened to exclude the light entirely from the 
 front window of the parlor. 
 
 " Boy, where's your mother?" said Miss Dotty, 
 in her blunt way. 
 
 " Gone to milking," was the curt reply, in a tone 
 and manner very like the questioner's. 
 
 " I s'pose I must go in and wait for her then." 
 
 " I s'pose you must," replied Pete, pointing to the 
 open door. 
 
 Miss Dotty entered, and took a seat in the parlor 
 near the front window. 
 
 It will be remembered that cousin Dotty thought 
 aloud. Peter overheard her muttering to herself, 
 
 "A smart parlor; too smart by half for poor 
 folks. Books, too, lots of 'em. I wonder how 
 they can get time here to read. And picters, too, I 
 declare. Well, now, if that ain't too much for 
 patience to bear. Harvey is awful extravagant. 
 He'll run out the whole property before he's twenty- 
 five. These folks '11 grow proud, and won't work as 
 well for being made so fine." 
 
 Pete, hearing every word as he stood by the win 
 dow, was growing more and more wrathy every 
 minute. At length he could endure no longer in 
 silence, and blurted out, in no gentle tone, 
 
 " I've worked for my living ever since I was 
 knee high to a grasshopper, and I expect to earn 
 10 
 
146 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 my living always. I don't mean to be obligated to 
 anybody." 
 
 " You needn't be spunky, boy. You know our 
 Harvey fixed up this cottage so smart for you, and 
 that he gives you cows, and calves, and all sorts of 
 things, for nothing." 
 
 Mrs. Paverley and Lucy now came to the door 
 with their milk-pails filled to the brim with rich, 
 foaming milk. 
 
 " You've got company in there," said Pete, with 
 a scornful laugh. 
 
 The pails were placed in the dairy-room, and 
 Mrs. Paverley, putting on a clean apron, and telling 
 Lucy to do the same, soon made her appearance in 
 the parlor. 
 
 "You're quite welcome here, Miss Trig," said 
 Mrs. Paverley. 
 
 " To be sure I ought to be," replied Miss Dotty, 
 pursing up her mouth and twitching her long, sharp 
 chin. " Who's a better right ? " 
 
 Mrs. Paverley was too much surprised to answer 
 a word. She seated herself, and waited for her 
 visitor to continue the conversation. 
 
 " Your boy is sassy. He spoke up to me right 
 tart just now, there, by that window." 
 
 " What, our Peter ! I am sorry if he offended 
 you in any way," said Mrs. Paverley, but not in a 
 very humble tone. 
 
 " Offended ! I wouldn't be offended by such a 
 
J2UJVTY DOTTY' S CALL. 147 
 
 young chap, who, I s'pose, hasn't been taught any 
 better manners." 
 
 Lucy now came in, her apron white as snow, 
 and her hair neatly arranged. She had been de 
 layed a moment by Peter at the front door, who 
 said he had something to whisper in her ear. 
 While he did so he placed a couple of damask rose 
 buds within her comb, at the back of her head. 
 
 " Smart ! Smart ! Everything so dreadful 
 smart ! Flowers in the hair, to be sure ! " mut 
 tered Dotty, much to the surprise of Lucy, who 
 could not comprehend the meaning of this odd 
 soliloquy. , 
 
 " Would you be pleased to take a glass of warm 
 milk?" asked Lucy, in her own sweet, kindly 
 manner. 
 
 " No. I don't like warm milk ; but I could take 
 some cream and strawberries, too ; for I 'spose you 
 have plenty here. We don't get many up at the 
 Hall." 
 
 " I will get the cream," said Lucy, " but we 
 have no strawberries. Would you like some bis 
 cuits with it ? " 
 
 " Yes ; for I've had a long walk, and didn't take 
 my tea beforehand, because Harvey is coming home 
 to-night, and I wanted to take supper with him." 
 
 " I am sorry we haven't a cup of tea to give 
 you ; but we have our tea and dinner together at 
 noon, and don't have tea in the evening," said Mrs. 
 Paverley. 
 
148 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 Miss Dotty muttered, " They live on the fat of 
 the land. Harvey is spoiling these poor folks 
 entirely." 
 
 Lucy returned with a tray, which she placed on 
 a small table before Miss Dotty. The biscuits were 
 light and white as snow ; a glass of smooth, yellow 
 cream was beside them, and a few little round rad 
 ishes Lucy had hastily pulled from her own garden. 
 
 Mrs. Paverley now excused herself by saying that 
 she must strain the milk they had just brought in. 
 
 While Miss Dotty was applying herself right 
 heartily to the entertainment set before her, Lucy 
 took up a book, seated herself by the front window, 
 and began to read. 
 
 The mischievous Pete, stooping underneath the 
 window, whispered, " How do you like your com 
 pany ? " 
 
 Lucy shook her head reprovingly. 
 
 Nothing daunted, Pete continued, ' Why don't 
 you talk to that hen-tnrkey?" 
 
 Lucy was obliged to change her seat. 
 
 " Girl, who made these biscuits? " inquired Miss 
 Dotty, after she had eaten half a dozen of them. 
 
 " I made them. I am glad if you like them." 
 
 " Well, now, I shouldn't have thought that a gal, 
 who fixed up her hair so mighty fine with posies 
 and curls, would know anything about cooking." 
 
 Here a laugh was heard a real guffaw from 
 Pete. 
 
AUNTY DOTTY'S CALL. 149 
 
 Lucy did not understand the allusion to the rose 
 buds ; she civilly replied, 
 
 u My mother has taught me to do all kinds of 
 work." 
 
 " But I dare say you like reading better. Nov 
 els I s'pose you read, and varses." 
 
 " I seldom read a novel ; but I am fond of 
 poetry," said Lucy, innocently. 
 
 " Not suitable reading for a girl that has to work 
 for a living puts notions in their heads, and 
 make 'em soft and silly lovesick, too." 
 
 Lucy's cheeks rivalled the roses in her hair, and 
 her forehead was of the same bright hue, as she 
 replied, 
 
 " I hope the poetry I read will not have that 
 effect. This is a volume of Longfellow's poems." 
 
 " Now, you don't mean to say that's the name of a 
 poet ! I never heard tell of a writer of that name. 
 I've heard of Dr. Watts, and one Cowper, and Joel 
 Barlow's Hasty Pudding, but never of a Long 
 fellow." 
 
 Here another loud laugh came in from beneath 
 the window. 
 
 " I do say now, gal, that brother of yourn is the 
 very sassiest limb that ever I met in all my born 
 days. He desarves a good cowhiding, and I'd give 
 it to him if I had a chance. But it's time for me 
 to be going." 
 
 So saying, Miss Dotty rose, and making a super- 
 
150 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 cilious nod to Lucy, stalked out of the house. 
 There she was met by Pete, who made her a low, 
 awkward bow, and asked if she would have a cow 
 hide now ; he would get one in the barn ; or whether 
 she would wait for another chance. 
 
 " Get along with your impartinence. I shall re 
 port you to Harvey Amadore, your young master." 
 
 " I call no man master, nor boy neither," said 
 Pete, proudly. 
 
 Miss Dotty assumed an air of dignity, mock 
 dignity it was, which commanded no respect, and 
 as she held up her gown daintily, and stepped off 
 like a blackbird, Pete followed her a few rods, 
 mimicking her in the most complete and laughable 
 manner. 
 
 About half an hour after cousin Dotty's depart 
 ure from the cottage, Harvey returned home. As 
 he was approaching the gate of Linden Hall he 
 saw Pete, leading a young heifer by a rope tied 
 around its neck. Harvey stopped at the gate. 
 The animal seemed to have a will of its own quite 
 in opposition to Pete's will, and to exert it to the 
 utmost. It pulled and tugged one way. He, afraid 
 of hurting the heifer, partly coaxed and partly 
 dragged the other way, occasionally letting the rope 
 loose with one hand, to wipe away tears from his 
 eyes. Pete was not given to much weeping ; but 
 this was a hard case. Pete and Pet were friends, 
 and an opposition of this kind was not agreeable to 
 either. 
 
J1VNTY DOTTY' S CALL. 151 
 
 "What is the matter, Peter? "What are you 
 going to do with your calf? " inquired Harvey. 
 
 " Going to take it where it belongs." 
 
 "It belongs to you; but you are leading it a 
 contrary way." 
 
 u It don't belong to me. I don't choose to be 
 beholden to anybody." 
 
 " I suppose Clarence gave you the calf, and you 
 have a right to it. You have raised it." 
 
 " Well, I thought so till a while ago. I don't 
 want to be twitted with being a sort of hanger-on, 
 and having a master." 
 
 " Who has been so unjust as to intimate such a 
 thing?" 
 
 " I don't choose to tell ; but somebody complains 
 that you will ruin yourself by doing so much for 
 our folks." 
 
 " Now, Pete, that is perfectly ridiculous. Are 
 you not working for wages ? " 
 
 " That I don't mind. I like to work. But I 
 don't like to keep what don't belong to me. Come, 
 Pet, you must go where you belong." 
 
 The pretty heifer, tired with its exertions, had 
 lain down on the grass by the road-side. 
 
 " Let us reason quietly about this matter, Peter. 
 I offered a cow to Clarence if he would overcome 
 the habit of lisping, which made him appear silly. 
 With a great effort he did so, and fairly earned the 
 reward." 
 
152 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 " But you didn't promise him the calf." 
 
 "Well, honest Pete, the calf belonged to the 
 cow, and I chose it should go with her. What is 
 the poor thing going to do without its mother ? " 
 
 " O, it's weaned. See here." And Pete gath 
 ered a handful of tender grass, and offered it to the 
 animal, who did not show a very great desire for 
 the food. 
 
 " Peter, could you do an extra hour's work on 
 the farm now, at this bury time ? " 
 
 " Yes, indeed, I could as well as not ; an hour in 
 the morning before breakfast." 
 
 " Then in a couple of months the calf would be 
 fairly your own ; you would have earned it. How 
 do you like the bargain ? Would that satisfy you? " 
 
 " First rate. Come, Pet, we'll go home." So 
 saying, right about turned Pete, and the calf fol 
 lowed, without the rope, making the most awkward 
 demonstrations of joy at her freedom. 
 
 Harvey suspected who had been mischievously 
 intermeddling with his affairs, and that very evening 
 had a long talk with Aunty Dotty, the result of 
 which was, that she must mind her own business, 
 or she would lose the pleasant home she now en 
 joyed through the kindness and liberality of Har 
 vey's father. 
 
A FAMILY CONSULTATION. 153 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 A FAMILY CONSULTATION. 
 
 WE now pass over the autumn months, and jump 
 to winter. 
 
 The little parlor at the Paverley cottage presented 
 a cheerful appearance one cold evening in the 
 month of December. 
 
 It was the first time they had indulged themselves 
 in a fire in that spare room. Now it sparkled and 
 merrily blazed up the chimney. A pair of brass 
 andirons seemed to know the place they had occu 
 pied years before, for they shone as brightly as 
 possible, and reflected the pleasant countenances of 
 Mrs. Paverley, Lucy, and Pete. 
 
 A small table, on which were several books and 
 a work-box, was drawn up near the fire. Mrs. Pa 
 verley, with her knitting, sat on one side of the fire 
 place, while Lucy and Pete were at the table, Lucy 
 sewing and Pete much engrossed with slate and 
 pencil, " doing sums," as he called it. 
 
 " I wonder why Clarence don't come home ; he 
 is later than usual," said Lucy. 
 
 Clarence had gone to the neighboring town to 
 make some purchases for the household. 
 
 " There he comes, now," said Pete, placing slate 
 
154 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 and pencil upon the table, and hastening out to meet 
 and assist his brother. 
 
 The horse and wagon were quickly disposed of, 
 and the parcels brought in. 
 
 Clarence then came into the parlor, drew a chair 
 near the table, and took a letter from his pocket. 
 
 Pete resumed his slate. 
 
 As Clarence read- the letter, the family saw he 
 was greatly agitated. 
 
 The receipt of a letter was an unusual occurrence 
 at the cottage. 
 
 "Bad news?" inquired Mrs. Paverley. 
 
 "Very bad," was the reply. "Mr. Rose is 
 dead." 
 
 " Indeed ! And where is Mrs. Rose? " 
 
 " In New York. She arrived nearly a month 
 ago. This letter has been lying two or three weeks 
 in the post-office. Mr. Rose died after a long, 
 severe illness, during which nearly all the money 
 he took with him was spent, not leaving enough 
 even to bury him ; and poor mamma had to sell her 
 jewelry, and even a part of her wardrobe, to pay 
 her passage home, and the few debts that were due 
 in California." 
 
 Here Clarence laid his head upon the table, and 
 burst into a violent fit of weeping. 
 
 After a sorrowful silence of some minutes, Lucy 
 gently asked, 
 
 " And where is poor Mrs. Rose now? " 
 
Jl FAMILY CQN&ULTATlQJf. 155 
 
 " At the Hotel in New York, with not a 
 
 friend or relation there to assist her. Poor and 
 sick, what will she do ? " sobbed out Clarence, with 
 out lifcing his head from the table. 
 
 " Come to us," said Mrs. Paverley. 
 
 " Yes, we can take care of her," added Lucy. 
 
 u So we can," echoed Pete. 
 
 " How kind ! " exclaimed Clarence, raising his 
 head and looking at his mother through tears ; 
 " how kind for you to propose such a thing ! " 
 
 " Didn't Mrs. Rose take care of you for more 
 than ten years ? What else could we do but offer 
 her a home now, humble one though it must appear 
 to her who has lived so grandly ? " said the mother. 
 
 " I don't think she'll care for style now," said 
 Pete ; " and, besides, I am sure our house is good 
 enough for anybody." 
 
 " But can we make her comfortable?" questioned 
 Clarence, anxiously. 
 
 " We can try," replied Lucy. " Mother, if you 
 are willing, we will give up this room for Mrs. 
 Rose's bedroom. 
 
 " No, Lucy, that is too much of a sacrifice," said 
 Clarence, doubtfully. 
 
 " We have no other spare room, Clarence, and 
 we ought to offer the best we have to the poor sick 
 lady. I am thankful that we have it to offer," re 
 plied Mrs. Paverley. 
 
 " O, mother, how good you are ! " exclaimed 
 Clarence. 
 
156 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 " I was a stranger, and ye took me in," said 
 Pete, with an attempt at solemnity, that, under any 
 other circumstances, would have been irresistibly 
 ludicrous. 
 
 " But how can we make this room suitable for a 
 bedroom ? " said Clarence. 
 
 " We shall only have to purchase bedstead, bed, 
 and bedding, and a bureau and wash-stand." 
 
 " And how can we do all that?" doubtfully sug 
 gested Clarence. 
 
 " We have some money laid aside from our 
 dairy," said Mrs. Paverley. 
 
 " And I have some from my wages," said Pete. 
 " I was wondering what I should do with it ; this 
 is a first-rate chance." 
 
 " I haven't much, for I spent so much for my 
 winter clothing," added Clarence; "but I have 
 enough to pay my expenses to New York and 
 back again. So, mother, if you will consent, I will 
 start to-morrow for the city, and bring mamma 
 home." 
 
 " Right, my son ; and we will be ready to receive 
 her." 
 
 At their evening devotions there was a special 
 prayer for the widow and the destitute, and fervent 
 thanksgiving for the many mercies bestowed upon 
 that humble household, for the comforts of this life 
 and the richer blessing of faith in Christ, and a 
 hope of futuro blessedness in a life that shall know 
 
A FAMILY CONSULTATION. 157. 
 
 no end, where there will be no sin, sickness, nor 
 sorrow. 
 
 Early the next morning Clarence went to tell 
 Sandy, the gardener, of his intended journey to the 
 city. Various were the commissions for seeds and 
 plants which Clarence was to execute in the city, at 
 Sandy's request. 
 
 " Take good care of your money," said Sandy, 
 as he gave him ten dollars for the purchases ; 
 " there are lots of thieves about that big town, and 
 a lad like you must look sharp about him." 
 
 " Thank you. I shall be on my guard. I had 
 my pocket picked once upon a time," said Clarence, 
 laughing, as he remembered his journey to " cool." 
 
 " Have you heard from the young master late 
 ly ? " asked Sandy. 
 
 " Not for a month past," was the reply. " When 
 I heard from Mr. Amadore last, he was on his way 
 to Switzerland." 
 
 Harvey was travelling in Europe with a tutor, 
 and was not expected home for a year or two. 
 
 Clarence bade " good morning" to Sandy, and, 
 with carpet-bag in hand, walked two miles and a 
 half to the nearest railroad station. 
 
158 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 CLARENCE IN A QUANDARY. 
 
 IT was evening when Clarence arrived in New 
 York. He went directly to the Hotel, and in 
 quired for Mrs. Rose. He was told that no such 
 person was there. Much puzzled to know what to 
 do next, he at length remembered that it was a 
 month since she arrived in New York. Then he 
 asked the clerk at the office to look at the register, 
 and see if Mrs. Rose's name were not on the book 
 at that date. 
 
 " I should remember it if there had been such a 
 person. I haven't time to hunt over the book. Go 
 away, boy ; I must attend to this gentleman. Your 
 name, if you please, sir," said the clerk, to a gen 
 tleman in black, who stood by the side of Clarence. 
 
 " Rev. Albertus Warren, Raceville," was the re- 
 
 pty- 
 
 Clarence started and exclaimed, " Mr. Warren ! 
 Is it possible ! Don't you know me ? " 
 
 "Can it be Clarence Rose? Why, you have 
 grown a foot taller and many inches broader than 
 when we parted, and you don't lisp at all. I am 
 glad to see you. For whom were you inquiring ? " 
 
 " For Mrs. Rose," replied Clarence, his eyes fill 
 ing with tears. 
 
CLARENCE /JV A QUANDARY. 159 
 
 " No. 49, sir," said the clerk. " Will you have 
 your trunk taken to your room?" 
 
 " Not just this moment. I think you refused to 
 look for the name of Mrs. Rose on your register. 
 Please do so at once. What was the date, Clar 
 ence ? " 
 
 " About the last of November." 
 
 " Only Mrs. Rose ? Not Mr. Rose ? " 
 
 " Mrs. Rose, alone," was the sorrowful reply. 
 " Mr. Rose is dead." 
 
 After a few moments' search the clerk found the 
 name on the register "Mrs. Rose, from Califor 
 nia ; staid three days." 
 
 " And where did she go then ? " 
 
 " Don't know," was the curt reply. 
 
 "Where are you going to-night, Clarence?" 
 asked Mr. Warren, kindly. 
 
 " I have formed no plan for the night. I suppose 
 I can stay here." 
 
 "Very well. Give me a room with two beds," 
 said Mr. Warren to the clerk, " and take my trunk 
 and this young gentleman's carpet-bag to my room, 
 and put his name on the register Clarence Rose." 
 
 The supercilious clerk gave an almost audible 
 sneer as he looked at the plain, homely garb, and 
 the old, worn carpet-bag of the " young gentleman," 
 and said, "Well, then, No. 14." 
 
 Clarence, however plainly dressed, was more neat 
 and tidy than many a boy with richer clothing. He 
 
160 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 followed Mr. Warren to the room with " two beds," 
 most thankful to have met with so kind a friend. 
 
 " After supper we will have a long talk, Clar 
 ence," said Mr. Warren. " You look fatigued, 
 though, I should judge, in excellent health. Let me 
 see ; it must be two years and more since we 
 parted. Come, let us go to supper now." 
 
 After supper the travellers returned to No. 14, 
 and Clarence had a long story to tell, to which 
 Mr. Warren listened with great interest. 
 
 " We are both fatigued, and can make no further 
 inquiry for Mrs. Rose to-night." 
 
 " How did you cure yourself of the defect in 
 your speech? You used to lisp badly," said Mr. 
 Warren. 
 
 " My good sister Lucy took great pains with me, 
 and with a mighty effort I succeeded in keeping my 
 tongue behind my' teeth when I said the letter S ; 
 and," added Clarence, laughing, " Harvey gave me 
 a cow as a reward for my successful effort." 
 
 " Harvey is a noble boy ; one of the best I have 
 ever known. He will become, I trust, an excellent 
 man, an honor to his country and a blessing to the 
 world. I am sorry that I shall have to leave you 
 early to-morrow morning, as I am on my way to 
 Washington on urgent business." 
 
 The next morning, very early, Mr. Warren 
 awakened Clarence, and told him he was just about 
 to leave ; add, said he, " I advise you, Clarence, to 
 
CLARENCE /JV A QUANDARY. 
 
 161 
 
 go home at once ; there is no probability of your 
 finding Mrs. Rose in this great city, without any 
 clew to her whereabouts. It is expensive to be 
 here." 
 
 " I have money enough of my own to pay my 
 expenses," replied Clarence, proudly. 
 
 " I am glad to know it. God bless you, my boy. 
 When you are at home again, after a while write to 
 me. I shall be very glad to hear from you, and so 
 will Mrs. Warren. She is much attached to you." 
 
 So saying, Mr. Warren shook hands cordially 
 with Clarence, and hurried away. 
 
 No more sleep for Clarence that morning. He 
 lay for a full hour meditating on what plan he 
 should pursue to find Mrs. Rose, but was no more 
 decided at the end of the hour than at the beginning. 
 Yet, with the hopefulness of boyhood, he was sure 
 " something would turn up " in his favor. So he 
 dressed himself in his butternut brown suit, and 
 went down to breakfast, feeling a little shy among 
 the crowd in the large dining-room as he walked 
 the length of it to find a place. 
 
 A waiter, who had not seen him the evening pre 
 vious, addressed him sharply as he moved towards 
 an unoccupied table. 
 
 "Boy, haven't you mistaken your place? This 
 is the gentlemen's dining-room." 
 
 " I know that as well as you do," said Clarence, 
 with perfect assurance. Taking a seat at the table, 
 11 
 
162 TRUE MAJMJJYESS. 
 
 he said, very decidedly and promptly, " Hand me a 
 bill of fare." 
 
 The waiter obeyed without further questioning. 
 Then, wondering at the sudden change in the man 
 ner of the boy, from shyness to proud assurance, he 
 attended to him respectfully. It seemed as if the 
 very atmosphere of the city had brought back the 
 quondam Clarence Rose. 
 
 After breakfast, Clarence thought, as there was 
 no probability of finding Mrs. Rose, he might as 
 well spend the day in amusing himself, as by going 
 directly home. 
 
 As he was passing a fashionable hatter's in 
 Broadway, he saw some very attractive looking 
 hats. He wore an old blue cloth cap. The temp 
 tation was too great to be resisted at least so 
 thought Clarence ; and after trying on a number, 
 he at length suited himself with an expensive one, 
 and, setting it jauntily on his head, paid for it. As 
 he was walking out of the .shop, the man of whom 
 he had made the purchase said, 
 
 " Young mister, here's your cap." 
 
 " I don't want it. Give it to the first beggar that 
 comes along," replied Clarence, with an air of su 
 perlative contempt for the old friend, the blue cloth 
 friend, who had sheltered his pate for many a month. 
 
 His next stopping-place was at Barnum's Mu 
 seum, where he passed a couple of hours very much 
 to his satisfaction. 
 
CLARENCE /JV A QUANDARY. 163 
 
 On his way back to the Hotel, he stepped into 
 
 a restaurant and called for a variety of nice things. 
 When he had fully satisfied himself with them, he 
 put his hand in his pocket for his purse the same 
 red silk purse that Mrs. Rose had given him when 
 he went to school. He had had very little use for 
 it since. 
 
 The purse was not in that pocket, neither was 
 it in any other of his pockets. ' 
 
 While he was making this search, he was closely 
 scrutinized by a lady and her daughter, a girl of 
 about sixteen years, who were seated at a table 
 very near him. 
 
 " Mother, I am sure that is little Wainbow, as 
 we used to call him," said the daughter. 
 
 " It can't be possible ; he looks more like a 
 cloud than a rainbow in that rough overcoat." 
 
 " Rough overcoats are fashionable, mother. I 
 am sure it is Clarence Rose : his hair is darker, and 
 so is his complexion ; but the eyes and mouth are 
 the same. Do speak to him ; pray, do. He seems 
 in trouble." 
 
 The two ladies rose and approached Clarence. 
 The elder said, 
 
 " Are you Clarence Rose? " 
 
 " I am," was the curt reply, as Clarence rose 
 from his seat. 
 
 "I thought you were in California with your 
 father and mother. When did you come in town ? " 
 
164 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 " Last evening." 
 
 " Where are you staying? " 
 
 " At the Hotel." 
 
 " You seem to be in trouble." 
 
 " I am. While at Barnum's Museum I must 
 have had my pocket picked, for I have lost my 
 purse." 
 
 " You do not appear to recognize us," said the 
 younger lady. 
 
 " I beg pardon. I was so embarrassed by the 
 loss of my purse that I did not at first notice that 
 it was Mrs. Snett and Miss Caroline who were 
 speaking to me." 
 
 " Don't you remember the party at our house 
 just before you left town to go to school?" said 
 Miss Caroline. 
 
 " Perfectly," replied Clarence, still hunting for 
 his purse. 
 
 " Allow me to lend you what money you need 
 here ; for I suppose you feel quite like a stranger in 
 town after so long an absence." 
 
 " Indeed, I do," replied Clarence, his eyes mois 
 tening, and his voice faltering, in spite of a violent 
 effort for self-control. 
 
 " Will you take a dollar, or more, if you like? " 
 
 " A dollar, if you please ; where shall I return 
 it?" 
 
 " O, we are still in Waverley Place, in the same 
 house as when you last visited us," said Mrs. 
 
CLARENCE /JV A QUANDARY. 165 
 
 Snett, handing him a two-dollar note. "Tell your 
 mother I shall soon call to see her. Good morn 
 ing." 
 
 " Good morning, Clarence. I hope we shall see 
 you again very soon," added the daughter. 
 
 " Thank you, Miss Caroline. Good morning." 
 
 As soon as the ladies left, Clarence stepped to 
 the paying-desk, with the little round tickets left on 
 the table for him, proving that he had spent in 
 gratifying his palate one dollar and twenty-five 
 cents. 
 
 He paid it as though he had indeed just returned 
 from California, a millionnaire. 
 
 And now for the hotel. What could he do there ? 
 
 He had allowed Mrs. Snett to believe that Mrs. 
 Rose was with him at the hotel. He had told no 
 direct falsehood, yet he had practised deception ; and 
 what would be the consequence he could not ima 
 gine. In spite of his fashionable hat, he walked up 
 Broadway with a gloomy, disconsolate air. He 
 was not as manly as he thought he was while work 
 ing in the garden on Linden Hill. 
 
 What he should do at the hotel he could not 
 conceive ; but go there he must. He would go to 
 his room No. 14, and consider. 
 
 No sooner had he entered the clerk's office than 
 he was met by that dignitary, who accosted him 
 with a supercilious air. 
 
 " Boy, you can't go to No. 14 ; that room is 
 
166 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 occupied. The Rev. Mr. Warren paid your bill 
 this morning, and said you would leave to-day." 
 
 " Very well ; so I shall," replied Clarence, great 
 ly relieved by the generous thoughtfulness of Mr. 
 Warren. 
 
 " Porter, bring the boy's carpet-bag," said the 
 clerk. 
 
 Clarence took the bag, tossed the porter a quar 
 ter of a dollar, and walked off, carrying himself as 
 stiff and erect as a raw soldier on drill. 
 
 His enemy, Pride, had not been rooted out. 
 
 Now, what was he to do in the city, with half a 
 dollar in his pocket and a long distance from home, 
 besides being in debt to Mrs. Snett? 
 
 " She was kind to me ; I will confess to her 
 all the truth, and she may assist me in finding 
 mamma." 
 
 With this thought in his mind, he walked rapidly 
 to Waverley Place. It was now about four o'clock. 
 As he passed from Broadway through that Place, 
 looking for the house of Mrs. Snett, he saw the 
 name of Hosea Fenton on a door, and instantly 
 stopped before it. A sudden impulse seized him. 
 He sprang up the steps and rang the bell. A 
 waiter appeared. 
 
 " Is Mr. Fenton at home?" 
 
 " Yes, sir ; please walk into the vestibule. Your 
 name, sir?" 
 
 " Clarence Rose." 
 
CLARENCE 7JV A QUANDARY. 167 
 
 A moment was given for reflection, and Clarence 
 resolved to be as frank and unreserved with Mr. 
 Fenton as he had decided to be with Mrs. Snett. 
 
 The waiter returned, and asked Clarence to lay- 
 aside his hat and overcoat. 
 
 He did so, and was shown into a large dining- 
 room, where Mr. Fenton was seated at table alone. 
 The first course had just been placed upon the 
 table. Mr. Fenton was a small, gray-haired old 
 man, dressed in a suit of snuff-colored cloth coat, 
 vest, and pants. 
 
 " Take a seat, Rose. "Will you have soup? " 
 
 " Thank you. Yes, sir." 
 
 An extra plate had already been placed for him, 
 and a chair beside the table, as though he had been 
 an expected guest. 
 
 The soup was soon discussed, without a spoken 
 word. 
 
 The second course followed. 
 
 " Fish?" said Mr. Fenton. 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 "Soy?" 
 
 " No, sir." 
 
 Not another word till the fish was removed and 
 a surloin of roast beef placed before Mr. Fenton. 
 
 " Rare or well done ? " 
 
 " Well done, if you please, sir." 
 
 A custard pudding and an apple-pie followed. 
 
 "Pudding or pie?" 
 
168 TRUE 
 
 u Pudding, if you please, sir." 
 
 " Just as you please." 
 
 " Pudding, then." 
 
 Dried fruits and nuts followed. 
 
 " Bring the fruit and nuts to my library," said 
 Mr. Fenton to the waiter. " Come, Rose." 
 
 Clarence followed Mr. Fenton to the library. 
 The library was filled on all sides but one with 
 books, and was lighted from above. At the end 
 not occupied by bookcases was a large oil paint 
 ing representing Shakespeare's Shylock and An 
 tonio, surrounded by pictures and engravings of 
 smaller size. A table, covered with green cloth, 
 was in the centre of the room ; a bright fire glowed 
 in the grate. The waiter placed upon the table a 
 tray with the fruits and nuts, and then left the room. 
 
 "Be seated, Rose," said Mr. Fenton, seating 
 himself by the table in a large arm-chair, covered 
 with green morocco, and pointing to one opposite 
 to them of the same kind. 
 
 Clarence sunk into its luxurious embrace. 
 
 Mr. Fenton regarded him curiously with his 
 keen dark eyes for full two minutes, and then said, 
 " Nuts, nuts ; help yourself." 
 
 The keen inspection daunted and embarrassed 
 Clarence, and much as he liked nuts and dried 
 fruit, he had now no inclination for them. 
 
 "Keep me company, Rose," said the old man, 
 taking a few almonds. 
 
CLARENCE 7JV A QUANDARY. 169 
 
 " Thank you ; " and Clarence did the same. 
 
 " Now,' tell me what brings you to town." 
 
 " I have a long story to tell, if you will have the 
 kindness to listen to it." 
 
 " Nothing better to do for the next hour ; but be 
 as brief as possible." 
 
 Clarence then told of the death of Mr. Rose ; the 
 return of Mrs. Rose, and her condition, "poor and 
 sick ; " his coming to New York ; and what had 
 since happened to the time of his seeing the name 
 of Hosea Fenton upon the door, and his sudden 
 impulse to ring the bell. 
 
 "Well, what do you think induced that im 
 pulse?" 
 
 " It probably wns a remembrance of the excel 
 lent advice you gave me, sir, through Harvey Ama- 
 dore." 
 
 " Have you profited by that advice? " 
 
 " Not much, I fear ; I flattered myself I had, 
 before I came to the city ; but I find I am the 
 same being still, full of faults, and very weak and 
 silly." 
 
 " What were you intending to do next?" 
 
 " To go directly home, if I could borrow the 
 money for that purpose," replied Clarence, a bright 
 color spreading over his whole face. 
 
 " What? Without finding Mrs. Rose ! " 
 
 " I don't know how to find her." 
 
 "Have you tried?" 
 
170 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 " Only by asking at the hotel." 
 
 " Set to work again, and see if you can't discover 
 some other way. When you went to school, I 
 suppose you wrote in your copy-book, ' Perseveran- 
 tia vincit omnict,.' " 
 
 " If I only knew how and where to begin." 
 
 "Harvey has given me, from time to time, a 
 good account of you, and of all your family ; and 
 though I had never seen you, I had, for his sake as 
 well as your own, taken an interest in you. Your 
 frankness has pleased me. It is getting too late for 
 you to do anything further this evening ; so you 
 must make yourself contented here, and think the 
 matter over while I am absent." 
 
 Taking out his watch, Mr. Fenton started up, 
 saying, " The hour is up ; I must be off; but here 
 are some letters from Harvey for your amusement ; 
 but don't forget that you are to think out some plan 
 for finding poor Mrs. Rose. Make yourself at 
 home." 
 
 Harvey's letters interested Clarence exceedingly. 
 He had first travelled through England and Scot 
 land, and was now on the continent. Several 
 times Clarence was mentioned. Once he says, " I 
 should like to hear of the welfare of the Paver- 
 ley family. I wrote to Clarence from Edinburgh, 
 but have not received an answer. I am anxious 
 .about Clarence." In another letter, he writes, 
 " Still I hear nothing from Clarence. I think 
 
CLARENCE IN A QUANDARY. 171 
 
 he has my banker's address." Again he writes, 
 " I am anxious about Clarence. I fear he is not 
 doing well, and is discontented with his present 
 employment. Would it be advisable to find some 
 other that would suit him better? I know, my 
 dear guardian, that you strongly and persistently 
 advised me not to separate him from his family. 
 As for Peter, he will do very well where he is, 
 and, no doubt, make an excellent farmer ; and I 
 should not be surprised if he became a much 
 stronger man every way than his brother. Poor 
 Clarence was so petted and coddled in early life as 
 to become enervated, and incapable, I fear, of doing 
 much for himself, or for others. However, when I 
 left home, I had confidence in him, and hoped that 
 he was doing well. I am much attached to him, 
 and should be sadly disappointed if he became un 
 worthy of respect and affection." 
 
 Clarence was half pleased and half provoked by 
 this notice of himself. Harvey's continued interest, 
 when surrounded by scenes so new and attractive, 
 surprised and gratified him ; but then the doubts 
 expressed annoyed and vexed him. 
 
 " I will disappoint Harvey," he thought to him 
 self; " I will be all and more than he expects." 
 
 With this resolution on his mind, he set himself 
 to considering what he should do to find Mrs. Rose. 
 
 While thus employed the waiter lighted the gas 
 in the library. 
 
172 TRUE MJJYLIJYESS. 
 
 Soon after Mr. Fenton returned home, and found 
 Clarence in the library, with his arms resting upon 
 the table, and his head dropped upon them. 
 
 Mr. Fenton smiled significantly, for he thought 
 the boy was fast asleep. 
 
 But no ; Clarence surprised him by lifting his 
 head suddenly, and exclaiming, " I have it ; I 
 have it ! " 
 
 So deeply was he absorbed in thought that he 
 had not noticed the entrance of Mr. Fenton. 
 
 " You have it. Well, we will have tea." 
 
 So saying Mr. Fenton rang the bell, and gave 
 orders to have the tea-equipage brought to the 
 library. 
 
 " You see how I live alone, and have my own bach 
 elor ways," said he, seating himself by the table. 
 
 Mr. Hosea Fenton was a banker, a man good 
 on 'Change for a million, a man whose honesty 
 and sterling integrity were proverbial. 
 
 Tea and toast were brought in. 
 
 " What are you going to do with yourself this 
 evening?" demanded Mr. Fenton. 
 
 " Inquire about Mrs. Rose ; I have thought of 
 a plan to find where she is." 
 
 u Put that off till morning ; after tea go in to see 
 my neighbor, Mrs. Snett." 
 
 Clarence started, blushed, and stammered out at 
 last, " But I owe her two dollars ; and worse than 
 that, I deceived her about mamma." 
 
CLARENCE JJV A QUANDARY. 173 
 
 " But what if, in consequence of that deception, 
 she should call at the hotel to-morrow, and find 
 there that you had deceived her? Better go and 
 tell her the whole truth, as you told it to me." 
 
 " But she may have company, and I am not fit to 
 appear among genteel people." 
 
 " Genteel ! " exclaimed Mr. Fenton, with a con 
 temptuous pursing up of the mouth. " Pshaw ! 
 don't talk to me about genteel people. I despise 
 that word. Why are you not fit to see an old 
 acquaintance ? " 
 
 ." My dress I mean, sir." 
 
 " Your dress ! Why, it is as good as mine, and 
 nearly the same color ; perhaps not quite as fine a 
 cloth. Old Thomas Fuller, a quaint old writer, 
 says, 'Why should any brag of what's but bor 
 rowed? Should the ostrich snatch off the gal 
 lant's feather, the beaver his hat, the goat his 
 gloves, the sheep his coat, the silkworm his stock 
 ings, the calf his shoes, he would be left in a cold 
 condition.' How much money had you in your 
 purse when your pocket was picked?" 
 
 "Twenty dollars of my own, and ten that Sandy, 
 the head gardener, gave me, with which I was to 
 buy seeds, and some other things." 
 
 Twenty dollars Clarence had earned literally "in 
 the sweat of his brow." 
 
 Mr. Fenton took from a large pocket-book notes 
 to the amount of thirty dollars, and handed them to 
 
174 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 Clarence, saying, gravely, " I do not give you this 
 money ; it belongs to Harvey Amadore ; I lend it to 
 you, and expect you to .pay him the full amount." 
 
 " Gladly will I do that," said Clarence, eagerly, 
 seizing the money, and thrusting it into his vest 
 pocket. 
 
 " So that is the way you are going to carry your 
 money, youngster ; after having been robbed, too?" 
 
 " I have no purse, sir." 
 
 " True ; take my wallet ; it has been a lucky 
 one ; " and Mr. Fenton handed Clarence an old 
 .leather wallet that had served its wealthy owner 
 for at least twenty years. " Now, take special care 
 of it, and remember, when you use it, that for 
 every dollar you put into it you are accountable for 
 a right use, not to me, but to the Giver of every 
 good gift. Now you can go in to see Mrs. Snett ; 
 she lives at the next house but one from mine." 
 
 " But allow me to tell you of a way I have 
 thought of to find out about Mrs. Rose." 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 " I will inquire of the porter at the Hotel 
 
 if he carried trunks for a lady, at such a date, the 
 day when she left the hotel, and where he carried 
 
 them ; or I can inquire of the drivers of the 
 
 Hotel carriages. It is possible that some one may 
 remember having left Mrs. Rose at the place where 
 she now is." 
 
 " Very well, Clarence ; I am glad you have 
 
A CONFESSION. 175 
 
 thought out an expedient, and hope it may prove 
 successful. When you return from Mrs. Snett's, 
 the waiter will show you directly to your room. 
 Good night." 
 
 " Good night, and many thanks for your kind 
 ness. Can I go to the room you are so kind as to 
 offer me for the night ? I wish to put myself a little 
 in order before going to see Mrs. Snett." 
 
 "Well, I suppose soap and water, brush and 
 comb, will do you no harm," said Mr. Fenton, 
 facetiously, as he rang a bell for the waiter. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 A CONFESSION. 
 
 It cost Clarence a mighty effort to summon reso 
 lution to tell Mrs. Snett the story of Mrs. Hose's 
 misfortunes and the change in his own circum 
 stances ; and still more, to confess the deception he 
 had practised upon her at the restaurant. As he 
 stood upon the door-step, he twice laid his hand 
 upon the bell-knob, and withdrew it. He was 
 sorely tempted to go directly out of town. But 
 better thoughts prevailed, and, with a /sudden im 
 pulse, he gave the bell a tremendous pull, startling 
 the whole household, as a policeman might have 
 done had the house been on fire. 
 
176 TRUE MJWLIJVESS. 
 
 The waitress, who came to the door, cautiously 
 opened it just far enough to see, by the light of the 
 street-lamp, an inoffensive-looking, tall boy, who 
 asked for Mrs. Snett, and wished to see her alone. 
 
 " What name shall I give? " 
 
 " I haven't a card with me. Tell Mrs. Snett it 
 is Clarence Rose." 
 
 " Yes ; " and the door was closed in his face. 
 
 Soon the waitress returned, and showed Clarence 
 up stairs into Mrs. Snett's dressing-room, saying 
 there was company in the parlors, and Mrs. Snett 
 would see him there. 
 
 Somewhat alarmed at the summons, Mrs. Snett 
 made her appearance. She was in full dress, look 
 ing, Clarence thought, exactly as she did at the 
 party in that same house where he had made him 
 self so conspicuous by his dress and manners. 
 
 " Good evening, Clarence ; I hope you do not 
 bring any bad news from your mamma." 
 
 " I wish I could bring any news whatever from 
 her, for I don't know where to find her." 
 
 "Goodness! Is she lost?" exclaimed the good 
 lady. " I thought something dreadful was coming, 
 from your frightened expression. Why, you are as 
 pale as death. Tell me at once, what is it that so 
 alarms you ? " 
 
 " Have you time to hear a long story, and a sad 
 one?" 
 
 " I can be spared from the young folks below for 
 
A COJVFJESS/OJV. 177 
 
 a short time. Do make haste, however, for my 
 curiosity is at the highest pitch." 
 
 Clarence now, as briefly as possible, told of his 
 being obliged to leave school and go to his own 
 mother, when Mrs. Snett interrupted him : 
 
 " What, is it possible ! Wasn't Mrs. Rose your 
 own mother ? " 
 
 " No ; "my own mother is a poor woman, and 
 Mrs. Rose adopted me when I was very young." 
 
 Clarence then went on, and told how he went 
 home, with the expectation of going back to live 
 with Mr. and Mrs. Rose, when they returned from 
 California. Then he told of the long sickness 
 and death of Mr. Rose, and the destitute condition 
 of Mrs. Rose ; her return to New York, and his 
 want of success in search of her ; the robbery at 
 the Museum ; and the deception he had, without 
 any previous intention, practised upon Mrs. Snett 
 at the restaurant. Then he mentioned that he had 
 been very kindly received by Mr. Hosea Fenton, 
 who had loaned him money, which, of course, he 
 should repay as soon as he had earned it. 
 
 Here Clarence handed a two-dollar note to Mrs. 
 Snett. 
 
 " No, no ; keep it, I entreat you. Is it possible 
 that you are the same Clarence Rose that the chil 
 dren called little Wainbow? You, who lisped in 
 such a silly way, excuse me, and cared for 
 12 
 
178 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 nothing but a fine dress. You are wonderfully 
 changed for the better." 
 
 " Thank you," said Clarence, with a smile. 
 " Thank you ; but please take the money. Indeed, 
 you would oblige me by taking it." 
 
 " If you insist, I must ; " and Mrs. Snett re 
 luctantly took it, saying, " Your mamma was a 
 friend of mine, a true friend, when I was myself 
 in trouble, and I have not forgotten it. What can 
 I do to aid you ? " 
 
 " I am afraid there is no way in which you can 
 help me to find out where she is." 
 
 " Yes, there is ! there is ! " exclaimed Mrs. Snett, 
 with extreme animation. " Do you remember old 
 Biddy, your mamma's cook ? " 
 
 " To be sure I do a faithful creature." 
 
 " Well, she has been here several times, since 
 Mrs. Rose went to California, to know if I had 
 heard from her former mistress. She said she was 
 no longer able to go out to service, but maintained 
 herself by clear-starching and goffering doing up 
 laces and fine muslins for ladies. I engaged her to 
 do the same for me. I took her address, and have 
 several times sent my breakfast-caps to her. Only 
 last week she came, saying she had a sick friend 
 with her. Biddy seemed in trouble. And besides 
 giving her work to do for me, I asked if she would 
 take some jelly to her sick friend. The poor crea 
 ture was delighted ; tears were actually in her poor 
 
j3 CONFESSION. 179 
 
 old eyes. Now, I suspect Mrs. Rose is the sick 
 friend. I will give you Biddy's address, or I will 
 go with you myself to-morrow." 
 
 "I should be much obliged to you for the ad 
 dress ; and if you will excuse me, I would rather 
 go first by myself." 
 
 Here the waitress came with a request from Miss 
 Caroline that Mrs. Snett would not keep Mr. Rose 
 any longer to herself, but " would she please come 
 down to the parlor with Mr. Rose ? " 
 
 Clarence started up, and begged to be excused. 
 Mrs. Snett entreated him in vain to join the young 
 people ; but he persisted in his refusal. She then 
 gave him the address, and begged him to let her 
 know the result of his inquiries as soon as possible. 
 
 Clarence left the house with a heart much lighter 
 than it was when he' pulled the door-bell so violently, 
 though it did throb somewhat as he perceived two 
 or three young girls slyly watching his retreat as 
 he passed through the hall, and imagined they 
 might be some of his former companions. 
 
 For the first time since Clarence left his home he 
 remembered his mother's injunction, " not to forget 
 his prayers;" and in the quietness of the large 
 room appropriated to his use, he knelt by the bed 
 side, penitent for sins and errors, thankful for the 
 protection and guidance of his heavenly Father, 
 and begging to be aided in the search for the friend 
 whom he truly loved. 
 
180 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 BIDDY MEGAN. 
 
 " TENTH Avenue, number , fifth floor. Mrs. 
 Megan." 
 
 This was the address given to Clarence by Mrs. 
 Snett. 
 
 Early the next morning he stood before a huge, 
 ugly tenement-house, where rags and old hats were 
 abundant, judging by the sham panes protruding 
 from the windows. And he must mount to the 
 fifth floor of that house, crammed as it was, from 
 attic to basem-ent, with miserable specimens of hu 
 manity. The staircase was absolutely filthy ; and 
 poor Clarence, with whom " neatness was next to 
 the cardinal virtues," picked his way daintily up 
 the four flights of stairs, shoving aside here and 
 there a white, or rather blue-headed child, who 
 eagerly shrieked, " Give me a penny ; give me a 
 penny." 
 
 At last he found the door on the right, at the back 
 of the house, and knocked there. 
 
 Mrs. Megan, the veritable Biddy, lifted the latch 
 with her elbow, and appeared with her hands wear 
 ing white gloves of starch. Those hands were 
 now lifted with amazement at the sight of Clarence, 
 
BIDDY MEOAJf. 181 
 
 and then, with what might be termed an Irish howl, 
 were laid upon his shoulders. 
 
 "Who is it? Who is it ?" came from a feeble 
 voice in one corner of the small room. 
 
 " Your own swate darlint," was the reply, with a 
 brogue too rich for any tongue but a Hibernian to 
 describe or to imitate. 
 
 Clarence stepped forward, and there, indeed, was 
 Mrs. Rose, pale and sick ; the hair, that had been 
 black as the raven's wing, now almost white, and 
 her features as pinched and thin as if she had been 
 starved in a southern prison. 
 
 " Mamma ! " It was the only word Clarence 
 could utter, and then he was forced to give way to 
 a complete deluge of tears. 
 
 " My Clarence ! So, you have not forsaken me ! " 
 
 u No, indeed ! " replied Clarence, partially recov 
 ering himself, and pressing one of those thin white 
 hands to his lips as he stood by the bedside ; " no, 
 indeed ! how could I forsake you ! " 
 
 Meanwhile, Biddy was disposing of her gloves in 
 a basin of water, and then with a towel wiping the 
 prints from the shoulders of Clarence a circum 
 stance which quite changed the pathos of the scene 
 into the ludicrous which, however, did not at the 
 time strike the principal actors in the scene. 
 
 " I have come to take you homo with me, 
 mamma." 
 
 " Home ! I have no home." 
 
182 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 " But I have," said Clarence, with emphasis, 
 looking round the miserable apartment, and con 
 trasting it with the neat little parlor prepared for 
 the reception of Mrs. Rose. 
 
 " Sit ye down," said Biddy, handing her only 
 chair, and then discreetly leaving the room. 
 
 " I only received your letter three days since, and 
 started immediately for New York. I could learn 
 
 nothing of you at the Hotel ; but I met Mrs. 
 
 Snett, and she told me where I might possibly find 
 you." 
 
 " Mrs. Snett ! She was once a good friend of 
 mine ; but I suppose, like all the rest, she would 
 not acknowledge my acquaintance now." 
 
 " You are mistaken, mamma ; she wants to come 
 and see you, and speaks of you gratefully and affec 
 tionately. Why did you not go to her, or let her 
 know you were in town ? " 
 
 " Because I sent to two ladies with whom I was 
 formerly acquainted, and they took not the least 
 notice of me. I thought they were all alike. 
 Then I sent for Biddy ; she, dear, good soul, took me 
 *in, and has nursed me and cared for me as she would 
 have done for an infant. I charged her not to name 
 me to any person whatever, as I should not live long ; 
 and 'when money was needed to bury me, she could 
 dispose of the remainder of my wardrobe, and that 
 would be sufficient to pay all expenses." 
 
 " O, mamma, don't talk so dolefully ; the country 
 
BIDDY MEGAN. 183 
 
 air will do you good, and my mother and sister will 
 be so kind to you! They are grateful to you, 
 don't look doubtful, they are, indeed, and will do 
 everything in their power for your comfort." 
 
 " Can it be ? I have thought of nothing lately but 
 being prepared for death ; and there was nothing in 
 my former life to give me the least consolation in view 
 of that solemn hour I could only throw myself 
 upon the mercy of God. O, I am afraid of death." 
 
 u But I cannot spare you yet, mamma. Cheer 
 up, and prepare to go home with me." 
 
 " That does not seem possible. And yet, I 
 ought not to be a burden to poor Biddy. Look at 
 that stove. All day long, when she is not caring 
 for me, she is washing, starching, and ironing." 
 
 " And almost suffocating you with the heat and 
 smoke." 
 
 " They do affect my breathing, it is true, and 
 take away my appetite." 
 
 " To-morrow, then, we will leave." 
 
 " How can I leave my good Biddy? " 
 
 Clarence thought a moment, and then said, 
 
 " We can take her with us. Here she comes. I 
 will tell her all about the plan, in the entry. Come, 
 Biddy, I want to have a consultation with you." 
 
 " Was there iver the bate of this ! Why, my 
 lady, the boy is a man," exclaimed Biddy ; " he 
 don't talk any more like a babby." 
 
 A long consultation was holden in the entry, and 
 
184 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 Biddy finally consented to go to Hodgton, and have 
 everything ready in two days, or three, for their 
 departure. When Clarence returned to the room, 
 Mrs. Rose said, 
 
 " Indeed, Clarence, Biddy is right ; you have 
 gotten the entire use of your tongue. You no 
 longer twist and wriggle it as you used to. I 
 already feel better, much better, for seeing you, 
 and knowing that you have not forgotten and for 
 saken me. Good by, for a while, dearest ; but 
 come in again to-morrow." 
 
 " Certainly. And may I bring Mrs. Snett with 
 me?" 
 
 " No, Clarence. I may be pardoned for a little 
 lingering pride. I would not willingly see Mrs. 
 Snett in this miserable place." 
 
 " No, indade. I never let on to anybody that 
 my mistress was in such a place as this," said poor 
 old Biddy. 
 
 " A place but too good for me, Biddy, dear," 
 said Mrs. Rose, with the first tears that she had 
 shed during this interview. 
 
 Clarence hastened back to Mr. Fenton, to tell him 
 of the result of his search. That gentleman had 
 gone to his banking-house, and would not be home 
 till dinner-time. 
 
 Clarence then went to Mrs. Snett, to tell her of 
 his success, and to thank her for putting him in the 
 way of it. He softened as much as possible Mrs. 
 
THE BANKER'S HOME. 185 
 
 Rose's refusal to see Mrs. Snett, by telling her it 
 really was not a fit place for any lady, and hardly 
 safe, as the air was excessively disagreeable. 
 
 " But I must see her. I shall go and bring her 
 here, till she is ready to go home with you. I will 
 not take a refusal." 
 
 Clarence could no further oppose this good lady, 
 but only requested that she would wait till the next 
 day. Then he went back to Mr. Fenton's, and, in 
 the library, wrote a long letter to his mother and 
 sister. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 THE BANKER'S HOME. 
 
 CLARENCE had just finished his letter when he 
 was summoned to dinner. 
 
 The conversation at table was as brief between 
 Mr. Fenton and his visitor as it had been the pre 
 vious day. But when the nuts and fruit were in 
 the library, and they were seated at the green table, 
 Mr. Fenton said, " Now, boy, give me an account 
 of your morning's doings." 
 
 Clarence did so, giving the particulars very clear 
 ly and candidly. 
 
 " I know now why Harvey Amadore has formed 
 so strong an attachment to you, in spite of your 
 
186 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 many faults of character," remarked Mr. Fenton, 
 giving Clarence one of those peculiarly penetrative 
 glances, which were rather embarrassing. 
 
 Clarence cracked a nut, and made no reply. 
 
 " You are grateful ; now, true gratitude is an 
 attribute of noble minds. Mrs. Rose petted and 
 almost spoiled you ; and, instead of resenting it, you 
 wish to do everything in your power for her." 
 
 u O, sir do not blame her; she was exceed 
 ingly kind to me ; and if it were mistaken indul 
 gence, still it was meant for kindness." 
 
 " That's right, boy ; stand up for her. I like 
 that spirit, especially when a friend is poor and in 
 trouble. But how do you expect to maintain this 
 woman, after you have taken her home ? " 
 
 " We have more than enough for ourselves, all 
 united as we are as a family ; and we shall be right 
 glad to make Mrs. Rose comfortable in our cottage. 
 O, sir, if you had seen her in that horrid dirty 
 house, you would not wonder at my being in a hur 
 ry to get her out of it." 
 
 " You said the twenty dollars you lost had been 
 laid aside from your earnings ; what did you expect 
 to do with it?" 
 
 Clarence hesitated a moment, his face red as a 
 peony, and then he replied, frankly, " I intended to 
 buy myself some nicer clothing ; but I can do very 
 well without it." 
 
 " So you can ; but now, answer another question 
 
THE BANKER'S HOME. 187 
 
 as candidly as you did the last. What business or 
 profession are you looking forward to in the fu 
 ture?" 
 
 "Sir, I am a gardener, and I expect to be a 
 gardener. I like the employment." 
 
 " Right ! Capitally right ! If God, in his wise 
 providence, calls you from a garden to a seat in the 
 Senate of the United States, you will be prepared 
 for it, as the shepherd David was to be king over 
 Israel ; but never look forward to it as an end. 
 
 ' Act, act in the living present ; 
 Heart within, and God o'erhead.' 
 
 " This reminds me," continued Mr. Fenton, " of 
 an anecdote told by my favorite old writer, Thomas 
 Fuller. It seems a farmer, who was a relation of 
 the Bishop of Lincoln, asked the bishop to bestow 
 an office upon him. ' Cousin,' quoth the bishop, 
 ' if your cart be broken, I'll mend it ; if your 
 plough is old, I'll give you a new one, and seed to 
 sow your land ; but a husbandman I found you, 
 and a husbandman I leave you.' " 
 
 " My brother is a farmer," said Clarence ; " but 
 my employment is among flowers and shrubs, and 
 where I enjoy the beautiful. O, sir, I wish you 
 could see our green-house ! Our camellias are 
 splendid, and our azaleas magnificent. Next spring 
 do come and see our rhododendrons." 
 
 Mr. Fenton smiled, and nodded his head ap 
 provingly at this burst of enthusiasm. 
 
188 
 
 TRUE 
 
 " Sandy, the head gardener, is the wisest, 
 shrewdest old Scotchman ! You ought to hear him 
 quote from his favorite Burns. Why, he knows 
 all Burns's poems by heart. I think Sandy is one 
 of the happiest men in the world." 
 
 Mr. Fenton sighed deeply. 
 
 " I hope, sir, I have not displeased you," said 
 Clarence, anxiously. 
 
 " No, no, boy ; I was only thinking how much 
 more real, rational enjoyment there must be in cul 
 tivating beautiful flowers and fruits, in the pure 
 country air, than in the harassing accumulation of 
 wealth, shut up within the brick walls of a banker's 
 office. Well has the poet Cowper said, ' God made 
 the country, but man made the town.' I was my 
 self a farmer's boy, in beautiful Orange County ; 
 there I passed the happiest years of my life. There, 
 too, I fitted for college ; but thirst for gold brought 
 me to the city, and here I have moiled and toiled 
 till I can count my hundreds of thousands of solid 
 coin ; but alas ! how much solid pleasure I have 
 lost ! " 
 
SIGHT-SEEING. 188 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 SIGHT-SEEING. 
 
 THE following morning the weather was rainy, 
 and Mr. Fenton at the breakfast-table said to Clar 
 ence that there was going to be a long storm. 
 
 " Then I am afraid mamma will not be able to 
 take a journey for some time yet," replied Clarence, 
 with a troubled expression. 
 
 " Make yourself easy ; your azaleas and camellias 
 will not miss you, and I should ; for I am becoming 
 quite fond of your company." 
 
 " Thank you, sir ; I was afraid you would be 
 quite tired of me by this time. I shall go to see 
 mamma, and I am sure Mrs. Snett will not venture 
 out in the storm." 
 
 "And now you have an opportunity, you had 
 better see some of the city sights besides Bar- 
 num's," said Mr. Fenton, with a merry twinkling of 
 his dark eyes and a quirk of the mouth. " Here," 
 he continued, " is a ticket to a fine horticultural 
 exhibition ; and here is another that will admit you 
 to the rooms of the Historical Society. I hope you 
 will have a profitable day ; and mind, leave your 
 money at home, so that pickpockets can have no 
 chance, nor the shopkeepers either." 
 
190 TRUE 
 
 Clarence could not help smiling, though he felt 
 ashamed of himself, and replied, " You are too 
 good to me, sir ; I have not deserved so much 
 kindness." 
 
 " We all get more than we deserve from our 
 heavenly Father ; and if he gives us an oppor 
 tunity to show kindness to others, we ought to be 
 thankful for it. Good morning." 
 
 Clarence, thinking so early a visit might not be 
 welcome to Mrs. Rose, went first to the horticul 
 tural exhibition, and passed there a charming hour, 
 delighted with the splendid display of flowers and 
 hot-house fruits. 
 
 When he reached Ninth Avenue, and came near 
 to the tenement-house where he had found Mrs. 
 Rose, he saw a carriage standing before the door. 
 Mrs. Snett had come, in spite of the rain, to see 
 her quondam friend, Mrs. Rose. 
 
 As Clarence drew near, Biddy rushed from the 
 house with an old umbrella over her head, and stood 
 by the carriage door, the glass of which was down. 
 
 " No, indade, my good lady ; my mistress will not 
 let you come up them nasty stairs. She thanks you 
 for coming, a thousand, thousand times. She is 
 better to-day for seeing the swate young master 
 yesterday ; and sure, here he is ! " 
 
 " I am sorry, very sorry Mrs. Rose cannot see 
 me, Clarence ; give my kindest regards to her, and 
 beg her to come to me, and stay with me till she is 
 well enough to take the journey." 
 
SIGHT- SEEING. 191 
 
 " I will do so ; but I fear she will not consent," 
 said Clarence. 
 
 " You make a mistake, Master Clarence ; if mis 
 tress is as well to-morrow as she is to-day, and the 
 good lady will send her coach, I will carry mistress 
 down stairs and put her in myself; then I can 
 have a chance to be all ready to go to the counthry 
 wid ye." 
 
 " Come close, Biddy," said Mrs. Snett, handing 
 out a basket to her, and adding, " I will call for 
 Mrs. Rose to-morrow at eleven o'clock. Good 
 morning, Clarence ; give my best love to your 
 mamma." 
 
 Then ordering the coachman to drive home, the 
 carriage was soon out of sight. 
 
 " I am sorry mamma would not see Mrs. Snett," 
 said Clarence, as he ascended the staircase, followed 
 by Biddy, with the basket on her arm. 
 
 " Indade, and indade, it was all me own doing ; 
 I wouldn't have the lady see my mistress in such a 
 'bominable room for all the gould in Californy." 
 
 " Then you took it upon yourself to refuse?" 
 
 " Sure, I did ; don't you think I've got some 
 pride for the family I've sarved a dozen years? 
 Biddy knows what she's about." 
 
 By this time they had reached the " 'bominable 
 room." 
 
 Mrs. Rose was sitting up in the one chair, an old 
 wooden one, dressed in a rich but faded blue silk, 
 
192 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 with a red Cashmere shawl a real Cashmere 
 wrapped about her, and a pair of silk shoes upon 
 her small feet. The beloved Cashmere was the 
 only article of great value she had retained, and 
 that she had clung to desperately, having made it, 
 as many do, quite an idol. 
 
 Clarence was struck with the painful contrast be 
 tween her dress and the surroundings. It was 
 pitiful indeed ; but he said, cheerily, " I am right 
 glad to see you better to-day, mamma ; I hope you 
 will soon be quite well again." 
 
 " This is the first time I have been dressed since 
 I left that horrid hotel. Biddy was so anxious to 
 see me sitting up, that I have made the effort, and 
 I feel really better for it." 
 
 Biddy now came forward with a board on which 
 she was accustomed to iron, and on the board was 
 now placed what she called a u lunchy." 
 
 This consisted of sandwiches, wine jelly, and ice 
 cream, in beautiful china and glass. 
 
 With a ceremonious courtesy, Biddy presented the 
 tray before Mrs. Rose, who looked at it with as 
 much astonishment as if it had dropped from the 
 skies ; she, however, asked no questions ; for in 
 her weak, suffering condition, she had yielded her 
 self entirely to Biddy's care and control. 
 
 Mrs. Rose eagerly helped herself, looking at the 
 beautiful plate, upon which she placed a sandwich, 
 with childish delight. 
 
PETE. 198 
 
 Biddy then handed the tray to Clarence, giving 
 him a mischievous wink, as he took a saucer of ice 
 cream ; as much as to say, " We know, we know." 
 
 Clarence took the hint, and said nothing about 
 Mrs. Snett. 
 
 " I think I shall be able to go with you, dear, 
 when the storm is over," said Mrs. Rose, as she took 
 a glass of jelly ; " I grow stronger every minute." 
 
 After a half hour's talk, Mrs. Rose appeared 
 fatigued, and Clarence bade her " good morning," 
 leaving it for Biddy to give such information as she 
 pleased about the call of Mrs. Snett, and the ar 
 rangements for the morrow. 
 
 Much to his satisfaction, Clarence passed the 
 hours till dinner-time at the rooms of the Histori 
 cal Society, examining, with intelligent curiosity, 
 the various contributions to nature and art. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 PETE. 
 
 THE next morning, before breakfast, the postman 
 brought a letter to Clarence from Pete. It was 
 addressed to "Clarence Rose Paverley, Esq., to be 
 left at No. 14 Waverley Place, for him. City of 
 New York." 
 
 13 
 
194 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 Clarence had mentioned Mr. Fenton's address in 
 his letter home. Pete wrote as follows : 
 
 DEAR CLARENCE : Didn't you have a time, find 
 ing your mammy ! I'm glad you did find her at 
 last, and such a grand friend as Mr. Fenton ; isn't 
 he bully? Don't get too grand yourself, you know 
 you kinder lean that way. There isn't much news 
 to tell ; we are getting along pretty much after the 
 old way, if the spring comes on early, we shall 
 begin to plough soon. What do you think has 
 happened to ^our old speckled hen Nabby ! Why 
 she up and died, leaving her five chicks for me to 
 bring up by hand. Three of them are yellow, 
 and two speckled. The yellow ones I've named 
 Rough and Ready, Fuss and Feathers, and Old 
 Hickory, the speckled, Grace Darling, and Bunchy. 
 Rough and Ready is a real fighter ; he tries to 
 drive away Bunchy, from the feed, I give from 
 my hand, Indian meal and water, you know lie 
 has a special spite against Bunchy, I suppose it 
 is because she's so ugly, like you Clarence, Rough 
 and Ready don't like ugly things. You didn't like 
 your old blue cap, O you would soon get back, 
 your city notions. We've got the parlor all fixed 
 up for your mammy, everything in apple-pie order. 
 Mother says she don't believe, the poor lady will 
 be able to travel, as soon as you thought, and that 
 is the reason I write to you now, hoping you 
 
PETE. 195 
 
 will get this as directed. I set down as soon, as 
 we got your letter, and wrote ; I haven't put any 
 date, for I haven't got the Almanac, and don't re 
 member it. Lucy would send some message if she 
 knew I was writing, but she don't, nor don't mother, 
 'cause, I didn't want to tell her that I send you five 
 dollars in this, 'cause I'm afraid you won't have 
 money enough to get home without, If you think 
 you will, though, pay it to Mr. Hosea Fenton on 
 account, or buy some seeds for Sandy, just which 
 you think best. Clarence, you are a queer fellow, 
 I can't quite make you out, any way I can fix it. 
 I am your brother, to command, &c., &c. 
 
 PETER PAVERLEY. 
 
 P, S, Now I think on't, you may spend one 
 dollar, of my money to buy a farming-book, you 
 know what I mean, some good book, all about 
 farmers, and farming. 
 
 P, S, Number 2. I don't know how, to make 
 my stops, properly so I have scattered, them all the 
 way, through about regular, distances just as I 
 plant corn. 
 
 At the breakfast-table Mr. Fenton told Clarence 
 that the weather was too severe for Mrs. Rose to 
 venture out, and that Mrs. Snett ought not to go 
 for her. 
 
 " I advise you to step in after breakfast, and say 
 
196 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 to that good lady, with my compliments, that I do 
 not think it prudent for an invalid to venture out in 
 this storm. Then go and tell Mrs. Rose so. After 
 you have seen her, come back here and write to 
 Harvey. Tell him candidly, and fully too, all you 
 have told me since you have been in the city. A 
 steamer for Havre leaves to-morrow, and I will 
 forward your letter." 
 
 Clarence followed Mr. Fenton's advice. 
 
 To his surprise, when he mentioned this advice to 
 Mrs. Rose, she had not heard a word from Biddy 
 about such an arrangement as had been made the 
 day previous. 
 
 " Clarence, dear," said Mrs. Rose, sadly, " I 
 wouldn't go to Mrs. Snett's on any account. I 
 have nothing fit to wear. Look at my old faded 
 finery, and I am sure you will excuse the small 
 remnant of pride I have left. I am truly grateful 
 for her kindness. I cast my bread upon the waters 
 in this instance, and it has returned to me. There 
 is such a thing as gratitude in the world. Here are 
 three persons who prove it Mrs. Snett, yourself, 
 and my kind Biddy." 
 
 " But would it not be well for you to try your 
 strength, mamma, by going first to Mrs. Snett's 
 if the weather should be pleasant to-morrow ; and, 
 besides, you would then give Biddy an opportunity 
 to attend to what preparations *are necessary for 
 moving." 
 
PETE. 197 
 
 " Biddy has already disposed of all her worldly 
 possessions to a fellow-tenant," replied Mrs. Rose, 
 with a sad smile, " and has gone out to buy me 
 a coarse cloak- for travelling. I shall be ready to 
 go to-morrow if the weather proves favorable." 
 
 Poor Biddy to buy a cloak with her own money, 
 and Mrs. Rose to wear a cashmere worth eight 
 hundred dollars ! What a lesson on the love of 
 dress the ruling passion, strong in sickness and 
 poverty ! The lesson was not lost upon Clarence* 
 
 " So you leave me to-morrow, Clarence, should 
 the weather be favorable," said Mr. Fenton, as 
 they were seated in the library at the usual hour in 
 the evening. 
 
 " I do, sir." 
 
 " And you expect to be able to maintain Mrs. 
 Rose, at your mother's." 
 
 " We are willing to do so." 
 
 u But are you able?" 
 
 " I have heard of an old proverb ' Where 
 there's a will there's a way ; ' and I am beginning 
 to find the truth of it," replied Clarence, with a 
 bright smile. 
 
 " Very well. A strong will is an excellent thing. 
 No one can be truly manly without a strong will ; 
 but the will must be governed by right principles 
 and good sense. Fools are obstinate ; wise men 
 are reasonable and open to conviction. I have 
 become much interested in you, Clarence, and shall 
 
198 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 be sorry to part with you. It may seem strange to 
 you that I do not assist you in a pecuniary way." 
 
 " No, indeed," interrupted Clarence, eagerly ; 
 " I have not thought of such aid, nor wished for it. 
 I am exceedingly obliged to you for all your kind 
 ness since I have been in the city." 
 
 " And I intend to continue that interest. I shall 
 wish to hear from you, from time to time, by letter. 
 You must make your own way in the world. We 
 talk about great men having been self-made. In 
 fact there is no such thing ; they are God-made. 
 From the first there was the original character, 
 with its faculties and tendencies ; then, the influence 
 of circumstances, the ' guinea stamp,' as your friend 
 Sandy would say." 
 
 " But the man's the gold for all that, and all that." 
 
 " Some men become brass, others iron, and 
 others nothing but dull lead. I hope for you, 
 Clarence, better things. You were, for a while, 
 placed under circumstances not favorable to a true, 
 manly development of character ; but you are over 
 coming those weakening influences, and, I have no 
 doubt, with God's help you will overcome them 
 entirely. You will, in part, be under the same 
 influence again. Do not be misled through your 
 kindness. You have the example of an excellent 
 Christian mother and sister, and, if I am not mis 
 taken, your younger brother has a strong char- 
 
PETE. 199 
 
 " He lias, sir, a stronger character than mine ; 
 but he is as rough as a bear." 
 
 " Well, polish is not effected upon soft materials. 
 The diamond, for example, receives polish ; sand 
 stone does not. The polish that a man needs is not 
 the external flourish and pretension of a dandy ; 
 but an American should be a plain gentleman, 
 gentle that is the suaviter in modo man, the 
 
 FORTITER IN RE. 
 
 " You say you are a gardener," continued Mr. 
 Fenton ; " here are some books I have purchased 
 for you on gardening, and two on architecture ; for 
 I think in time you may be disposed to unite the 
 two arts." 
 
 The books were beautifully bound, and illustrated 
 with colored engravings. 
 
 " You have room for them in your carpet-bag," 
 said Mr. Fenton, as Clarence, quite overcome with 
 surprise, was for a moment unable to speak. He 
 found his voice, however, and warmly thanked Mr. 
 Fenton for the beautiful present. 
 
 " I perceive .that you have taste that only needs 
 cultivation to render you a genuine artist in your 
 line. It is a good gift, and you will, no doubt, make 
 a right use of it," he continued; "I haven't told 
 you the latest news from Harvey. He intends 
 to be home in May or June." 
 
 " Indeed ! How happy we shall all be to see 
 him ! Where is he now ? " 
 
200 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 " Still in Italy. No traveller has enjoyed Rome 
 more than our young friend. He has been study 
 ing the history of that wonderful empire in its rise 
 and decline in the midst of its magnificent remains, 
 and I hope he has learned many things from that 
 history that will render him useful to his own coun 
 try on his return. One thing he says he has learned 
 by travelling more perfectly than any other." 
 
 "What is that?" 
 
 u To prize his own country, its government and 
 institutions, its varied climate and soil, its strong- 
 minded men, and its virtuous, noble women.. I trust 
 he will return prepared for a whole-souled patriot 
 and widely-useful citizen. His boyhood has been 
 one of rich promise." 
 
 The next morning was clear and bright ; the 
 deep-blue March sky spanning the city was almost 
 as pure as when seen through the softened brown 
 tracery of the budding trees of the country. 
 
 Mrs. Rose, cheered with the expectation of a 
 change from her doleful lodgings, was in readiness 
 for Clarence, at an early hour, to go to the station. 
 When the carriage arrived at the door of the tene 
 ment-house (it was Mr. Fenton's handsome car 
 riage), a crowd of squalid urchins gathered around 
 it, and not a few heads were thrust out of the win 
 dows to see the novel sight some in night-caps, 
 and others with caps whose wide borders were 
 blown back by the morning wind ; others with 
 
PETE. 201 
 
 unkempt hair streaming about their begrimed faces. 
 Wickedness and woe dwelt there. Clarence abso 
 lutely shuddered at the shocking appearance of the 
 front of this miserable tenement, and hurried up 
 the long staircase. With the aid of Biddy, Clar 
 ence carried Mrs. Rose down those horrid stairs, 
 and placed her in the vehicle which had attracted 
 so much attention. 
 
 An express wagon had now arrived, into which 
 Biddy placed trunks, budgets, bundles, boxes, and 
 parcels, almost enough to fill the wagon. This was 
 a matter of surprise to Clarence, but he asked no 
 questions, and they drove oif to the station. 
 
 No incidents worth mentioning occurred on the 
 journey. They arrived safely, at nightfall, at the 
 white cottage, and were cordially welcomed by the 
 good mother and her children. 
 
 " What lots of baggage ! " exclaimed Pete, as he 
 aided Biddy in carrying in the multitudinous and 
 multiform articles. 
 
 Indeed, the little parlor could scarcely contain all 
 those trunks, boxes, &c. How did Biddy ever con 
 trive to accommodate them in her kitchen-like room 
 at the tenement-house ! Mrs. Rose was too much 
 fatigued to take notice of the little parlor that even 
 ing ; but the next morning, when she awoke, she 
 looked around, and exclaimed, " Where am I? 
 How neat and sweet ! " 
 
 The change was indeed very delightful from that 
 
202 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 smoky room, with its dark, dingy walls, to this 
 bright, cheerful apartment. 
 
 Soon Lucy came in with a tray, on which was a 
 nice breakfast, tea and toast, and a broiled young 
 pigeon from Pete's pigeon-house. 
 
 " And you are Clarence's sister," said Mrs. Rose ; 
 " you do resemble him, strikingly. "Where is Biddy ? 
 She ought to yvait upon me." 
 
 " She has been, it seems, accustomed to a dairy, 
 and was so delighted with ours that she begged to 
 churn the butter, and let me wait upon you." 
 
 " And do you churn butter?" 
 
 " Yes, ma'am." 
 
 " You don't seem like a milkmaid at all, unless 
 one of those fancy milkmaids of romance and 
 poetry," said Mrs. Rose^ looking admiringly at 
 Lucy, \vho smiled, saying, 
 
 " I am no fancy milkmaid or dairy-woman, but 
 a genuine country girl, accustomed to hard work, 
 and, formerly, to hard fare. Now we are very 
 comfortable, and hope we shall be able to make 
 you so." 
 
 Mrs. Rose, after breakfast, dressed herself in one 
 of those old, faded silk gowns, and wrapped her old 
 cashmere, that beloved cashmere, about her shoul 
 ders. She then proceeded, with Biddy's aid, to 
 unpack her trunks and boxes. 
 
 What lots of old finery ! Mrs. Rose had said that 
 she was obliged to dispose of a part of her ward- 
 
PETE. 203 
 
 robe in order to obtain money to pay her expenses 
 home. What remained of that wardrobe was 
 enough for three or four women of moderate re 
 quirements laces of the most costly kind, which, 
 Biddy said, were " as yallow as gould," and Mrs. 
 Rose declared were all the better for that ; artificial 
 flowers enough to fit out a country milliner's show- 
 box ; ribbons of all shades and hues ; satin, silk, 
 and kid shoes ; lace veils ; white and black bonnets, 
 of various fashions ; and, withal, not one single, 
 simple calico, or other dress suitable to wear among 
 the plain, honest people at the white cottage. 
 
 When Mrs. Paverley came in, about eleven 
 o* clock, to inquire after the health of her guest, she 
 was astonished at the display of these articles, as 
 they were spread out on bed, bureau, chairs, and 
 table. 
 
 " I hope, ma'am, you are quite better this morn 
 ing," said she, looking much astonished at the 
 lady in silk and cashmere, with a lace cap, trimmed 
 with scarlet ribbons, stuck on the back of her head. 
 
 " Thank you, Mrs. Paverley ; I feel quite well ; 
 but where is Clarence ? Why didn't he come in to 
 see me this morning ? " 
 
 " He has gone to his work. We breakfast at 
 five o'clock at this season of the year, and he works 
 in our garden for an hour before he goes to Linden 
 Hill." 
 
 " So early ! I should think it would wear him 
 out." 
 
204 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 " He is perfectly healthy, and, I think, is very 
 happy, too." 
 
 " You all seem so," said Mrs. Rose, casting a 
 look at Mrs. Paverley's homespun dress and her 
 blue, checked apron, and then, with a sigh, turn 
 ing to her own gay attire, as she thought how 
 utterly unsuitable it was for her present circum 
 stances. 
 
 Mrs. Paverley had no longer the sad countenance 
 and miserable appearance with which she had pre 
 sented herself at Mr. Warren's when she went for 
 Clarence. She now looked younger than Mrs. 
 Rose, though some years her senior. 
 
 " Where did you keep all those things in the 
 city, dresses, and bonnets, and shawls, and all 
 sorts of fancy affairs ? " asked Mrs. Paverley of 
 Biddy, when she met her, after leaving Mrs. Rose. 
 
 " Why, ma'am" (we will not attempt to give the 
 Irish brogue), "we hired a woman to keep the 
 trunks and boxes. I was sorry to give my mistress 
 such poor 'commodations, she who had lived so 
 grandly. You know, she went first to a big hotel, 
 where she had to pay three or four dollars a day, 
 that was too spensive ; so she come to my poor 
 lodgings. I sold some of her nice things for her, 
 enough to pay for her board. Don't think, ina'tim, 
 she lived on poor Biddy. She wouldn't do such 
 a thing. But then, you know, she couldn't bear to 
 let her grand acquaintance know she was not the 
 
Jl VISIT TO THE GARDEN. 205 
 
 same great lady she was when Master Clarence 
 lived with us. She thought, poor dear, that she 
 was going to die, and kept a great many things, so 
 that when she died she might have a decent burial. 
 She wanted to be buried from Grace Church, and 
 have as grand a funeral as any lady in the land." 
 
 Mrs. Paverley could scarcely believe Biddy's re 
 port of Mrs. Rose's intentions, and the singular 
 pride thus evinced ; doubtless allowance ought to 
 be made for Biddy's Irish exaggeration, and her 
 Irish notions about funerals. 
 
 CHAPTEE XXX. 
 
 A VISIT TO THE GAEDEN. 
 
 MARCH, with his fierce winds, had given place to 
 weeping and smiling April ; and April had yielded 
 to her more genial sister, the English poet's darling, 
 May ; who, in turn, must yield the palm to our 
 June rosy, laughing June. 
 
 For the first time since her arrival at the Paverley 
 cottage, Mrs. Rose walked to Linden Hill. It was 
 one of those cool days in May which usually follow 
 a rain-storm. The sky was as pure as the rose 
 that " had been washed, just washed in a shower ; " 
 and the fresh grass reminded Mrs. Rose of a beloved 
 
206 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 green and flowered velvet carpet, the crowning glory 
 of her former elegantly-furnished mansion. So she 
 wrapped her Cashmere about her, and picking her 
 way carefully, she followed the direction given her 
 at the cottage, and found Clarence at work in the 
 garden, transplanting flowers from the green-house. 
 He was stooping over a bed of verbenas of various 
 hues, when he was startled by the sound of a famil 
 iar voice : " Clarence, darling, hard at work ; you 
 will kill yourself. Why, you have been here ever 
 since six this morning, and now it is nearly four 
 o'clock." 
 
 " I allowed myself one hour for dinner, and an 
 other hour for reading at noon. There's no danger 
 of my hurting myself, Mrs. Rose ; I enjoy work. 
 I am obliged to do more than usual, because I am 
 in debt, and I am trying to get out of it. You 
 know I was robbed of thirty dollars in New York, 
 and I have had to make up that sum by extra work. 
 Sandy, the head gardener, has given me a piece of 
 ground that Mr. Amadore allowed him to use solely 
 for himself. Sandy has given it to me for the same 
 purpose, and I am raising flowers for market upon 
 it. I have made twenty dollars already." 
 
 " You call me Mrs. Rose, Clarence, and no longer 
 mamma, as you used to," said she, sadly ; "I know 
 I cannot do for you what I once could." 
 
 u Don't think that is the reason for the change ; 
 far from it. I am too old and huge a fellow now 
 
A VISIT TO THE GARDEN. 207 
 
 to be calling any one mamma ; it sounds babyish. 
 But please excuse me if I go on with my work ; 
 these verbenas must all be covered from the sun, 
 and I was going with my wheelbarrow for some 
 flower-pots to cover them with." 
 
 So saying, Clarence trundled off the wheelbar 
 row, and left Mrs. Rose meditating for several min 
 utes. While she was thus lost in thought, she was 
 suddenly aware of the presence of a stranger, a 
 boy, or, rather, a young man, of prepossessing ap 
 pearance, apparently a couple of years older than 
 Clarence. 
 
 He bowed politely, and passed on. Just then 
 Clarence appeared with the wheelbarrow, loaded 
 with the empty flower-pots. 
 
 " Is it possible ! " he exclaimed, letting the han 
 dles of the barrow drop suddenly. " Can it be Mr. 
 Amadore ! " 
 
 u Quite possible, Clarence ; how are you?" with 
 a cordial shake of the hand. " Have I, then, altered 
 so much in appearance, during my absence ? " 
 
 "You have indeed; you have grown very tall, 
 and absolutely wear a mustache. When did you 
 arrive ? " 
 
 "By the last steamer from Liverpool ; and I made 
 my way directly home, with the exception of a few 
 hours I passed with Mr. Fenton in New York." 
 
 " I beg your pardon, Mrs. Rose," said Clarence, 
 as that lady stood \vouderiug at the rencontre. 
 
208 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 " Mr. Amadore, Mrs. Rose, the friend whom I used 
 to call mamma when we were at school." 
 
 Mrs. Rose greeted Harvey very coolly, quite to 
 the surprise of Clarence ; and saying she was fa 
 tigued with the long walk, left the garden. 
 
 " My poor verbenas will suffer if I do not cover 
 them," said Clarence ; " I must go on with my 
 business. Just look at them. Are they not splen 
 did ! Soon we shall have a display of rhododen 
 drons worth looking at. I meant they should come 
 out in all their glory in honor of your arrival ; but 
 you have taken them and me by surprise." 
 
 While Clarence was saying this he continued his 
 work, much to the amusement of Harvey, who 
 could scarcely realize that Clarence had become an 
 enthusiastic " lover of flowers." 
 
 " How are Mrs. Paverley, and Miss Lucy, and 
 Peter ? " he inquired. 
 
 " Well, thank you. Isn't that a magnificent ver 
 bena ? So bright a scarlet it fairly dazzles your eyes 
 like the sun." 
 
 " I must go and find Aunty Dotty," said Harvey. 
 " Clarence, come to the Hall this evening ; I have 
 something to tell you from your good friend, Mr. 
 Fenton." 
 
 " I sent him a bouquet, last week, of my choicest 
 flowers. Did he receive it?*" 
 
 " He did, and was much pleased with it." So 
 saying, Harvey walked on, as much pleased with 
 
A VISIT TO THE OARDEM. 209 
 
 the enthusiasm of Clarence for his flowers, as Mr. 
 Fenton was with the flowers themselves. 
 
 On her way back to the cottage, Mrs. Rose was 
 grumbling to herself about Harvey Amadore. 
 " What right has he to make a slave of Clarence ! 
 He, an old schoolmate an professed friend ! It's 
 too bad ! He might have done something else for 
 him better than making him a gardener. I will 
 give Harvey .Amadore a piece of my mind, when I 
 see him again." 
 
 With these thoughts troubling her brain and heart, 
 she was walking slowly onward, when some one 
 came up with her, and saluted her unceremoniously. 
 It was Aunty Dotty. 
 
 " So you are the gay lady living on the good 
 people at the gardener's cottage." 
 
 Mrs. Rose stared at the tall, severe-looking wo 
 man, astonished and displeased at this abrupt ad 
 dress. 
 
 " She's mad at me," muttered Dotty ; " but I 
 don't care a straw." 
 
 Then addressing Mrs. Rose again, " You don't 
 know me. I am a relation of Harvey Amadore's. 
 His father was my cousin. I have the charge of 
 Linden Hall, and work for my living. I don't 
 hang on to Harvey because he's a relation, or a 
 friend. I might, if I was like some folks," she 
 continued, with a toss of her head, and a significant 
 glance at Mrs. Rose. 
 14 
 
210 TRUE MA.VLIMESS. 
 
 " Do you mean to insult me?" exclaimed Mrs. 
 Rose, with mingled fear and anger. 
 
 " No ; I mean to tell you the plain truth. You 
 are an expense at the cottage to them Paverleys, 
 and you do nothing but dress up fine and play grand 
 lady. Now I should lik$ to know haw much that 
 shawl cost that you wear so proudly." 
 
 "It is my own, and I have a right to wear it. 
 You are very impertinent." 
 
 " But please tell me how much that shawl cost." 
 
 " Eight hundred dollars," blurted out Mrs. Rose^ 
 angrily. 
 
 " Eight hundred dollars ! Why, the Paverleys 
 could live on that money two whole years." 
 
 " Have they complained of my living with 
 them?" 
 
 " Not a word of complaint, I'll venture to say, 
 from them. They are grateful to you for taking 
 care of the boy for so many years, though you were 
 spoiling him with high and foolish notions." 
 
 " You are positively insulting. I wish you would 
 leave me. You are even worse than Harvey Am- 
 adore." 
 
 " Harvey Amadore ! What in the world has he 
 done to you ? " 
 
 " Nothing to me, directly ; I never saw him till 
 to-day." 
 
 "To-day ! Where have you seen him to-day?" 
 " Just now ; in the garden at Linden Hall." 
 
SOMETHING NOT TOLD. 211 
 
 " Goodness me ! " exclaimed Miss Dotty, turning 
 round, and walking back to Linden Hall as fast as 
 her feet could carry her. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 
 
 SOMETHING NOT TOLD. 
 
 AFTER tea, that same evening, Clarence prepared 
 himself to go^to Linden Hall to meet Harvey. 
 
 " Now you look something as you used to," said 
 Mrs. Rose. " Come and sit awhile in my room, 
 before you go to see that proud Harvey Amadore." 
 
 " I have a half hour to spare," said Clarence, as 
 they seated themselves at a window, through which 
 the last rays of the setting sun were glinting into 
 the room, and gorgeous clouds of purple and gold 
 Avere curtaining the glowing west. 
 
 "Why do you call Harvey Amadore proud ? I 
 am sure you could have seen nothing in his manner 
 to-day that was proud or haughty," asked Clarence. 
 
 " He was your schoolmate and friend ; why then 
 docs he place you now in a station so far below 
 himself? " 
 
 " I am in the station in which I was born. You 
 took me from it, Mrs. Rose, no doubt with the 
 kindest intentions, and I am grateful to you for all 
 
212 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 your care and kindness ; but it was the will of 
 Providence that I should return to that station. 
 My mother is a truly excellent woman, perfectly 
 contented with her lot ; and you know what Lucy is." 
 
 " Lucy is one of a thousand," interrupted Mrs. 
 Rose ; " she would grace any station." 
 
 " And yet she has no aspirations after any other 
 condition in life than that to which God has called 
 her." 
 
 " Pete is just fit for a farmer, common and un 
 refined. I don't mind his having hard, brown 
 hands and a freckled face, but I do grieve over the 
 change in you. from those soft, white hands and fair 
 complexion, to the condition in which they now 
 are," said Mrs. Rose, with a sigh. " Couldn't you 
 wear gloves when you are at work in the garden, 
 if work you must ? " 
 
 Clarence could not help laughing at this question. 
 Instead of answering it, he said, 
 
 " Pete is a noble fellow ; you don't understand 
 him. He is as faithful as yonder sun, and as honest 
 as the man Diogenes was looking for. The philos 
 opher needn't have gone a step farther if he had 
 found our Pete. He might have turned the full 
 light of his lantern upon him without finding the 
 least deceitfulness in word or deed." 
 
 " You are warm in your brother's defence." 
 
 "Ami? Well, he deserves it. His true man 
 liness has been an example to me, which I have only 
 been able to follow at a humble distance." 
 
SOMETHINO JV07' TOLD. 213 
 
 " Alas ! alas ! Your own relations have stolen 
 your love from your mamma." Overcome by her 
 own morbid feelings, Mrs. Rose burst into tears. 
 
 Clarence tried to soothe her in vain. She fairly 
 sobbed aloud. At length she restrained herself, 
 and listened to his assurance, that he still felt the 
 tenderest interest in her, and the greatest desire for 
 her happiness. 
 
 A sudden thought seemed to strike her, and she 
 said, 
 
 " Now, Clarence, dear, if you had an opportunity 
 to go on with your education, and to prepare your 
 self for one of the learned professions, would you 
 not accept it?" 
 
 " My sentiments on this subject are well ex 
 pressed in a very good book, from which I copied 
 an extract. I have the extract in "my pocket-book, 
 or wallet, the one Mr. Fenton gave me. I like to 
 put good things in it. May I read the extract to 
 you?" 
 
 " If you please." 
 
 " ' It is God's will that different men should follow 
 different pursuits, according to the station in which 
 they were born, the gifts they possess, the circum 
 stances in which they find themselves. Bring it 
 down to individual cases, and the truth still holds. 
 It is still the will of God that this man should ply 
 a humble craft ; that this other should have the 
 duties entailed by broad acres and large property ; 
 
214 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 that a third should go to the desk and sit behind a 
 counter all his days ; that a fourth should give his 
 time to the restoration of sick patients ; that a fifth 
 should fight the battles of his country. Now, if 
 this is God's will in each individual case, no good, 
 but the greatest harm, would ensue from an individ 
 ual's infringing that will ; from his thrusting him 
 self out of his own vocation into one which seems 
 higher and more dignified. Each man's wisdom 
 and happiness must consist in doing, as well as his 
 faculties will admit, the work which God sets him.' " 
 
 Clarence carefully folded the little paper, and re 
 placed it in the old leather wallet. 
 
 " Now, Mrs. Rose, you see I am doing the work 
 to which Providence has called me. I do it be 
 cause it is my duty. I do it to gain my daily bread, 
 and I find pleasure in it. God made flowers and 
 fruit beautiful and good at the creation, but he 
 made them, besides, capable of variety and improve 
 ment, by cultivation, to almost any extent. It is 
 no wonder that men have turned with disgust from 
 the cares and turmoil of a public and high station, 
 to the cultivation of even cabbages." 
 
 Mrs. Rose was silent and sorrowful, but not con 
 vinced. 
 
 The flowers were now closing their petals for 
 their nightly rest, and the birds were carolling their 
 vesper hymn. Clarence kissed Mrs. Rose, and bade 
 her good evening. He then hastened to Linden 
 Hall. 
 
SOMETHING JVO7 1 TOLD. 215 
 
 Mrs. Rose called Biddy to her, and had a consul 
 tation, the result of which was, that her faithful 
 servant should leave for the city the next morning, 
 on business of importance. 
 
 The result of Harvey's conversation with Clar 
 ence was not known, even to his own family, till 
 nearly two years after it took place. It was, how 
 ever, satisfactory to the persons whom it principally 
 concerned. 
 
 Bridget was absent on her journey to the city for 
 several days. During this time, Mrs. Rose em 
 ployed herself in looking over her trunks and boxes, 
 and making selections of various articles from their 
 multitudinous contents. 
 
 She insisted upon taking care of her room, al 
 though she said she had never made up a bed be 
 fore, or swept a room, in her life. Lucy offered to 
 assist her, but was peremptorily refused. 
 
 While thus employed she seemed more cheerful 
 than she had been since her arrival at the cottage ; 
 the country air and plain wholesome food had en 
 tirely restored her to health. 
 
 Harvey Amadore called at the cottage the day 
 after his return, and was most cordially received by 
 Mrs. Paverley and Lucy. He asked for Mrs. Rose, 
 and she refused to see him, without assigning any 
 reason. 
 
 Various conjectures were made in the family 
 about the object of Bridget's journey, and Mrs. 
 
216 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 Rose's occupation in her room. Pete suggested 
 that the lady was going to make them presents, all 
 round, of her nice things, and declared that she 
 probably would give him a pair of yellow kid gloves, 
 like those Clarence wore when he came home to the 
 old brown cottage with his mother. 
 
 The mystery was solved when Bridget returned 
 with the big trunk heavier than when she went 
 away. 
 
 Mrs. Rose made known her intentions at the tea- 
 table without preamble. 
 
 " I am going to be a milliner." 
 
 "A milliner! A milliner! Where?" they all 
 exclaimed. 
 
 " In the village or town of Hodgton, where I am 
 a perfect stranger. I shall take my maiden name, 
 and, in time, put out my sign ' Mrs. Truebury, 
 Milliner, from the City.' " 
 
 " Mamma, you can't be in earnest," exclaimed 
 Clarence. " What has induced you to form such a 
 plan?" 
 
 " I have my reasons, and will tell them another 
 time to Mrs. Paverley. But you must see the caps 
 and bonnets I have made while you were all won 
 dering what I was about. I always had a turn for 
 making tasty caps and other pretty things, and I 
 have made some sweet ones now. You shall see 
 them." 
 
 " But you can't set up a millinery, marm, on two 
 
SOMETHING NOT TOLD. 217 
 
 bonnets and three caps," said Pete. " The milliner, 
 who has just got married, and left her shop, had 
 lots and lots of bonnets, caps, and what-nots." 
 
 " Left her shop, did you say? " 
 
 "Yes, marm. it's just next to the post-office, in 
 Hodgton, and I noticed, yesterday, that it had a 
 board on the front door with ' To Let ' upon it." 
 
 "Now, that is just what I want how lucky! 
 Why, Pete, you see everything that is going on, in 
 town and country." 
 
 " Yes, marm, I generally keep my eyes open 
 when I'm awake." 
 
 Mrs. Rose asked Mrs. Paverley and Lucy to go 
 to her room, and see the caps and bonnets. They 
 were surprised to see how skilfully and tastefully 
 they were made. 
 
 u I always have put away the pieces of silk and 
 lace left over from my dresses ; and now, you see, 
 they have come to use. I little thought what I was 
 saving them for." 
 
 Here Mrs. Rose opened the trunk Bridget had 
 taken to the city, and from a number of other arti 
 cles took out a pattern of mousseline de laine for a 
 dress, and handed it to Mrs. Paverley, and then 
 another for Lucy. 
 
 " Please accept these trifles," said she. 
 
 Mrs. Paverley and Lucy were too much surprised 
 for. a moment even to express their thanks. 
 
 " You are quite astonished," said Mr.s. Rose, de- 
 
218 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 lighted with having produced so lively a sensation. 
 " You need not be afraid to accept my poor gifts. 
 They are paid for. You must know I had an idol, 
 that I cherished proudly and fondly. I gave up a 
 great many things, but the idol I had long wor 
 shipped I could not sacrifice. But I was severely 
 taunted with my dependence upon others ; and I 
 saw those, on w r hom I was said to be dependent, 
 working, cheerfully, from day to day cheerfully 
 and constantly. Then a thought came into my 
 head, I can't tell just what put it there, if I 
 were to sell my idol, I might do a great deal with 
 the money it would bring. Then another thought 
 came I might, instead of being so miserably 
 lazy, I might work, toot So I sent Biddy to the 
 city with my idol my red Cashmere shawl. It 
 cost eight hundred dollars ; and a good friend of 
 mine bought it for six hundred, and with a part of 
 the money purchased my stock of goods to set up 
 with." 
 
 Mrs. Rose laughed heartily at the wonder ex 
 pressed on the countenances of the listeners. There 
 was no bitterness in that hearty, natural laugh. 
 
 u I hope you have not done this, Mrs. Rose, be 
 cause you have thought yourself a burden to us. 
 We have not been so ungrateful as to forget the 
 many years of kindness shown to my boy," said 
 Mrs. Paverley. 
 
 " No, no. You have been, all of you, tender 
 
SOMETHING JVOT TOLD. 219 
 
 and sweet to me ; but I have been seized with a 
 wish to be like the rest of you independent,; and 
 by a slight sacrifice a sacrifice. of pride I can 
 become so." 
 
 Then Mrs. Kose took from the trunk another 
 parcel, saying, 
 
 " Here are two suits of summer clothes, one for 
 Clarence and another for Pete. I hope they will 
 like them. They are very plain and simple." 
 
 What a pleasure it was to Mrs. Rose to be able 
 to " give," instead of always to " receive" ! How 
 much purer and more satisfactory the enjoyment 
 than that she had felt in wearing the Cashmere 
 shawl ! 
 
 Lucy and her mother expressed their thanks 
 warmly, and admired the beautiful dresses which 
 had been selected for them by the friend of Mrs. 
 Rose, who was no other than Mrs. Sriett, to whom 
 Biddy had been sent by Mrs. Rose. Instead of 
 written directions, Biddy was left to tell the whole 
 story in her own Irish, eloquent way, and her suc 
 cess was complete. 
 
 " And now I have a favor to ask of you, Lucy," 
 said Mrs. Rose, as she closed the big trunk. "Will 
 you take me in the wagon to Hqdgton to-day? I 
 want to look at the milliner's shop, and, if it will 
 suit me, to rent it." 
 
 " Certainly. I will with pleasure, if you will 
 consent to ride in our homely vehicle, with old 
 Patchy." 
 
220 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 " Now, Lucy, don't mortify me by talking in that 
 way.^ You must know, in giving up my idol, I 
 subdued my pride ; and I haven't been as happy 
 as I am to-day for many, many years." 
 
 As the two were driving into Hodgton, a few 
 hours subsequently to the conversation at the white 
 cottage, Lucy said to her companion, 
 
 " I hope, Mrs. Rose, that you will give your own 
 name, if you find the house in the village suits you." 
 
 " Mrs. Truebury is my own name in one sense." 
 
 " But Mrs. Rose is your own name in every 
 sense. You will probably have to sign a lease, and 
 it would not hold in law if you did not sign your 
 true name." 
 
 u Well, I see I must conquer my old enemy en 
 tirely. Why, Lucy, pride is like the hydra Clar 
 ence used to study about in his classical books 
 no sooner is one head cut off than another appears. 
 I will give my own name." 
 
 The house and shop exactly suited Mrs. Rose. 
 She called it a " genteel establishment ; " for, be 
 sides the shop, there was a nice back parlor, a small 
 dining-room, kitchen on the first floor, and three 
 bedrooms on the second floor. It was hired for 
 one hundred dollars a year. 
 
 Mrs. Rose took the reins in her hand to drive 
 Patchy home, quite astonishing Lucy by the over 
 flow of joy, and calling herself a happy woman. 
 
 Biddy, of course, went with her to the milliner's 
 
THE YOUNG TRAVELLER. 221 
 
 establishment ; and another woman was hired to 
 take the place she had recently filled, as assistant 
 dairy-woman at the white cottage. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 THE YOUNG TRAVELLER. 
 
 WE now* pass over two whole years, during 
 which the tenants of the white cottage went on 
 prosperously. 
 
 Mrs. Rose became a " fashionable" milliner ; but, 
 more than that, she found a pleasure in being use 
 ful and in doing good. Her pride and selfishness 
 were subdued, in a great measure, by higher and 
 nobler motives than had before actuated her con 
 duct. Clarence was a frequent visitor, and encour 
 aged her in all her efforts for self-improvement by 
 his own example. 
 
 The time had come when he could communicate 
 the proposition made to him by Harvey Amadore 
 from Mr. Fenton, two years previously. 
 
 Through Harvey, Mr. Fenton proposed to Clar 
 ence, at that time, to go to Europe to learn the arts 
 of landscape gardening and architecture, and he, 
 Mr. Fenton, would furnish the means, saying, like 
 
222 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 Hercules, " I am willing to help him who helps 
 himself." 
 
 Clarence declined the generous offer, and wrote 
 to Mr. Fenton his reasons, as follows : 
 
 " I am not prepared to go abroad yet. I have 
 not firmness of character, and might easily be led 
 astray. I would like to prepare myself by classical 
 studies and acquiring the French language, and, if 
 possible, German and Italian. I think, with the 
 blessing of health, I might accomplish all this in 
 two years. Besides, I would like to learn from 
 books, to which I can have access in this country, 
 more about landscape gardening and architecture. 
 The latter art I have studied already in the books 
 you, sir, were so kind as to give me, so that I 
 have a technical knowledge of it. England is the 
 place to learn landscape gardening. If, after two 
 years, you think best, sir, to renew your very 
 generous offer, I will (D. V.) accept it most grate 
 fully." 
 
 During these two years, Clarence had not neg 
 lected his employment as a gardener ; but his one 
 hour of study at noon, daily, and his evening appli 
 cation, especially during the long winter evenings, 
 had enabled him to accomplish what he had pro 
 posed to do. Lucy was the companion of his even 
 ing studies, and Harvey loaned him the books he 
 needed, and, besides, gave him occasional assistance 
 when he met with difficulties in the languages. 
 
THE YOUNG TRAVELLER. 223 
 
 And now, Clarence announced to the family at 
 the white cottage, and to Mrs. Rose, who was tak 
 ing tea there, that he was about to take a voyage to 
 Europe. 
 
 " To Europe ! " they exclaimed with one voice. 
 
 When Clarence explained the matter, free consent 
 was given. 
 
 Immediate preparations were made, and in a 
 week after the announcement Clarence started for 
 New York with Pete, whose first visit was now to 
 be made to the city. 
 
 Clarence had written to Mr. Fenton his present 
 wishes, and a cordial, ready answer was returned, 
 inviting him and his brother to pass a few days in 
 New York before he sailed for Europe. 
 
 As Clarence and Pete were walking up Broad 
 way, Pete said, " I suppose I should be taken for 
 a country gawky if I look in at these windows ; but 
 as I don't know the folks I don't care. Here's 
 a window full of pictures ; let's stop a minute to 
 look at them." 
 
 They did so ; and while wondering and admiring 
 (for it was one of Church's glorious paintings), 
 some one tapped Clarence on the shoulder, and said, 
 in a contemptuous tone, " Clarenth Wothe." 
 
 Clarence turned suddenly, and there was his 
 school-day enemy, Stackpole Clap. 
 
 " How are you, Stackpole? or Mr. Clap, I should 
 say. This is my brother, Peter, whom, I think, you 
 
224 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 have seen before ; " and a meaning smile lurked 
 about the mouth of Clarence. 
 
 " He never saw me before unless it was through 
 a hard shower," said Pete, with a loud laugh, which 
 attracted attention from the crowd of gazers at the 
 window. 
 
 "Do you mean to insult me, sir?" said Stack- 
 pole. 
 
 " Just as you choose to take it," was the reply. 
 
 Stackpole's slight figure was bent with cringing ; 
 he could not stand upright physically, or morally. 
 He looked at .Pete, whose stalwart, well-knit per 
 son six feet and one inch tall was quite alarm 
 ing, and the determined air with which Pete faced 
 him was not at all agreeable. So Stackpole thought 
 it best to crawl off. 
 
 " Don't make a disturbance, Pete," whispered 
 Clarence, imploringly ; "you see a crowd is gather 
 ing at the prospect of a row, and a policeman is 
 looking on." 
 
 " Don't trouble yourself. I should as soon think 
 of meddling with a toad as with that sneak, unless 
 I had a bucket of water to give him a shower- 
 bath." 
 
 " I wish you had," said a middle-aged man who 
 was passing at the moment, " for he is the meanest 
 pettifogger in the city, always swooping round to 
 find or to make a quarrel." 
 
 " That he is," said the policeman. " If any dirty 
 
THE YOUNG TRAVELLER. 225 
 
 law business is to be done, Clap is the scamp to do 
 it. He is despised by every honorable man in the 
 profession." 
 
 " Come, Pete," said Clarence, walking off; " we 
 are attracting too much attention. We won't stop 
 at any more shop-windows. I thought you were 
 entirely cured of your former fightin ess." 
 
 " Fightiness do you call it? When I see such a 
 crawling, despicable fellow as that Clap, I long to 
 put my foot upon him as I would upon a centi- 
 ped," replied Pete, his lip curling with fierce con 
 tempt. 
 
 "You had better restrain yourself; for in the city 
 you may meet with many such contemptible crea 
 tures." 
 
 " I don't believe there is but one Stackpole Clap 
 in the world, any more than there is another Quilp 
 like Dickens's Quilp. They are human monsters." 
 
 " Well, don't look so angry, Pete ; for here we 
 are at Mr. Fenton's door." 
 
 Mr. Fenton received Clarence and his brother 
 warmly. 
 
 " You have grown famously during these last 
 years," said he to the former, " but your brother 
 has the advantage in height." 
 
 " I am five feet eleven and a half; only wanting 
 an inch and a half of Pete's measure," replied 
 Clarence, straightening himself up to his full size. 
 
 " You've come just in the right time for dinner ; 
 15 
 
226 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 I have often wished for your company, at my soli 
 tary table, Clarence," said Mr. Fenton, as he led 
 the way to the dining-room. 
 
 Retiring, as formerly, to the library after dinner, 
 Mr. Fenton had much to say to Clarence, while 
 Pete surveyed the apartment with curious eyes, 
 and then, at Mr. Fenton's suggestion, examined 
 the engravings and paintings which ornamented it. 
 
 After having given Clarence all the needed infor 
 mation with regard to the voyage, and what he was 
 to learn by going abroad, Mr. Fenton turned to 
 Pete, who was carefully scrutinizing a group of 
 cattle by Paul Potter. 
 
 " You seem attracted by that picture." 
 
 " It's a capital one to my eye, only the horns are 
 too loftg for my notion ; but, after all, there isn't a 
 creature there as handsome as my Pet. I raised 
 her, sir, from a calf, and she's a perfect beauty. I 
 wish I had her picture painted as well as that is.'* 
 
 " You are a good judge ; that is considered a 
 remarkable painting. And how do you like the one 
 below it the sheep in a meadow ? " 
 
 " In a meadow ! " exclaimed Pete, laughing ; 
 " we never put sheep in a meadow ; and only look 
 at the white-weed and wild flowers of all sorts ! 
 Why, sir, sheep eat out all the weeds ; the man 
 who painted that picture didn't know the nature of 
 the animals, or he wouldn't have placed them in 
 a meadow." 
 
THE YOUNG TRAVELLER. 227 
 
 " Well, the sheep themselves what do you 
 think of them ? " 
 
 " They are fancy sheep. Neither south-downs, 
 merinos, black-legs, nor common sheep. The wool 
 is not wool ; it's raw cotton. Their faces are hu 
 man faces entirely. Our sheep often look at me 
 with knowing faces ; but still they are sheepish. 
 I've seen men who looked exactly like some of these 
 sheep. I saw one to-day who looked very much 
 like that one, only he had a monkey expression. 
 His name is Clap." 
 
 Mr. Fenton was not displeased with Pete's criti 
 cism ; moreover, he was pleased with Pete's frank, 
 candid manner, although it bordered on bluntness. 
 Meanwhile Clarence listened anxiously to the con 
 versation. He was warmly attached to his brother, 
 and wished him to appear to* the best advantage. 
 
 " I suppose, Peter, you intend to go to Barnum's 
 Museum. You will see there some strange living 
 animals, human and otherwise." 
 
 " The very place I mean to go to right off." 
 
 " Take care of your porte-monnaie," said Mr. 
 Fenton, with a mischievous glance at Clarence. " I 
 have heard* that country boys' have had their pock 
 ets picked at Barnum's." 
 
 " O, I am not so green as Clarence was at the 
 time you refer to : my pockets are not worth pick 
 ing ; for my money, what there is o/ it, isn't 
 there." 
 
228 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 So Pete found his way to Barnum's, and Clarence 
 spent the evening with Mr. Fenton. 
 
 After two days passed very pleasantly in the city, 
 Clarence sailed in the Africa for Liverpool, and Pete 
 returned home, having seen enough to talk about 
 there for months after. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 FIGHTING FORMAN. 
 
 AFTER a voyage of eleven days Clarence arrived 
 safely in Liverpool. Glad was he to be once more 
 on terra firma. Half the way across the ocea/i, 
 he would have been almost willing to be thrown 
 overboard. At least, he thought he was quite will 
 ing to change seasickness to drowning in the sea, to 
 be rid of that horrible nausea. But being once safe 
 on shore, he "thanked God and took courage." 
 Having seen all the objects of interest in Liverpool 
 and its vicinity, to which his guide-book directed 
 him, he took the railway for London, and was 
 whizzed on to that wonder of the modern world, 
 proud London. 
 
 As Clarence was walking through one of the 
 narrow streets of London, he was suddenly joined 
 
FIGHTING FORMAJf. 229 
 
 by a man who had been for some time following 
 him with rapid steps. 
 
 " You walk fast," said the stranger, a very 
 rough, shabbily dressed man, with dark whiskers 
 and mustache, and heavy frowning eyebrows, wear 
 ing green spectacles. 
 
 Clarence supposed that the intention of the man 
 must be to rob him ; so he quickened his walk 
 almost to a run. His unwelcome companion kept 
 pace with him, step by step. 
 
 " So you don't like my company," said he. 
 
 " I do not." 
 
 "What are you doing here in London?" he 
 roughly said. 
 
 " That is no concern of yours." 
 
 " But what if I choose to make it my concern?" 
 
 Clarence now thought this might be one of the 
 police ; but a second thought, as he looked at the 
 dirty, mean dress of his companion, convinced him 
 that was a mistake. He now turned into a more 
 frequented street ; but still the stranger walked on 
 with him, now and then laughing in a provoking 
 manner as he peered into Clarence's face, which, 
 with rapid walking and indignation, was as red as 
 the reddest of Englishmen. 
 
 " So, then, you won't acknowledge my acquaint 
 ance, Mr. Poverty," said the stranger, with a pro 
 voking sneer. 
 
 " That is not my name ; you are mistaken in the 
 person." 
 
230 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 " It is your name, with only the change of a let 
 ter to suit your circumstances to a T." 
 
 " You would oblige me by leaving me." 
 
 " I couldn't, possibly, till it suits my conven 
 ience." 
 
 They were now near Craven Street, where Clar 
 ence had taken his lodgings. 
 
 " So you do not acknowledge the name of Pov 
 erty," exclaimed the stranger, with one of his horse 
 laughs. 
 
 " My name is Paverley ; there is no disgrace in 
 a name, nor in poverty, but there is in crime and 
 rascality, whatever the name or station of a person 
 may be." 
 
 " Even if that name should be the sweet one, 
 the pretty one, Clarenth Wothe." Another startling 
 " haw, haw, haw ! " from the stranger. 
 
 Clarence looked at the man eagerly, without the 
 slightest conjecture where he had ever seen him 
 before. 
 
 He had now arrived at his lodgings, and as he 
 rang at the door, the fellow looked at the number, 
 and then, making a low bow, said, 
 
 " Mr. Clarenth Wothe Poverty, I will see you 
 again," and walked rapidly away, leaving Clarence 
 much disturbed, and not a little alarmed. 
 
 Craven Street. The very street in which Frank 
 lin lodged when he was in London a century ago ! 
 Perhaps, for that reason, Clarence had taken his 
 
FIGHTINQ FORMAN. 231 
 
 lodgings there, for Franklin's " Life," written by 
 Sparks, lie had more than read ; he had carefully 
 studied it. Perhaps he was in the very room the 
 philosopher had occupied ; at all events it was a 
 pleasant and a cheering thought. Like Benjamin 
 Franklin, he was making his own way in spite of 
 obstacles ; and though he might not become as great 
 and as distinguished as that statesman and philos 
 opher, he might become a useful man. On the even 
 ing of that same day, Clarence had letters to write, 
 and remained in his room. 
 
 About nine o'clock a servant handed him a soiled 
 card, on which was scrawled " John Jimson, Esq." 
 
 Could it be that the stranger was his former 
 schoolmate, Jack Jimson ! 
 
 It was indeed. Before he could say whether he 
 would receive him or not, Jack pushed aside the 
 servant who stood at the door of Clarence's room, 
 and rushed in. 
 
 But in what a plight ! His head was bound up 
 with an old red cotton handkerchief, and a torn 
 slouched hat hung partly over his face, which was 
 disfigured by deep scratches, from which blood was 
 still oozing. 
 
 Jack threw himself upon the floor, and rolled over 
 and over as though in violent pain. 
 
 Clarence looked compassionately at the poor 
 wretch, but could not speak to him. 
 
 After a few moments Jack got up and seated 
 
232 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 himself in a chair near the table at which Clarence 
 had been writing, and took an impertinent survey 
 of the letter, which Clarence had nearly finished. 
 
 " So, then, you wouldn't recognize an old friend 
 when you met him," said Jack. 
 
 " I did not know you at all, you are so changed 
 every way." 
 
 " Every way ! That's so. I am a six-footer in 
 my stocking feet, when I have any stockings ; and 
 look at that arm. Isn't that a man's arm ! " 
 
 Here Jack stripped up his dirty shirt-sleeve, 
 for he had no coat on, and showed a brawny 
 arm, with the big muscles as hard as iron. 
 
 " There's an arm for you," said the young ruf 
 fian, putting that boasted arm into a boxing atti 
 tude. " Dolly-boy can't show one like it." 
 
 " You are as fond of fighting as ever, I see," 
 said Clarence. 
 
 " Why, it's my occupation," replied Jack, with a 
 coarse laugh ; "have you a better one, my pretty 
 boy?" 
 
 " I am sorry you have so poor a one ! " 
 
 " A very good one in England. You have heard 
 of the gentlemen of the fancy. Why, man ! I'm 
 the best boxer in the country." 
 
 " How came you here, Jack ? I have never heard 
 a word of you since Christmas day, nearly four years 
 since." 
 
 " O, I remember ; I saw you last when I was 
 
FIOHT1MG FORMJJV. 233 
 
 with Stackpole on a sleigh-ride. Well, father shut 
 me up for that spree. I got out the window, and 
 ran away. I shipped as a common sailor on board 
 a vessel bound for Liverpool, and I have been living 
 in England by hook and by crook ever since. Now 
 I'm short of money, and want to borrow. Can you 
 lend me five pounds, that is, twenty-five dollars in 
 Yankee currency ? " 
 
 " I cannot. I have been sent to England for 
 a special purpose by a friend of mine, and have no 
 money of my own." 
 
 " O, ho ! You are Harvey Amadore's servant, 
 then. I'm sorry for you. He is as proud as he is 
 mean, and as mean as he is proud." 
 
 " He is my best friend, and I will not hear him 
 abused," replied Clarence, warmly. 
 
 Jack Jimson started from the chair, doubled up 
 his big fists, and exclaimed, " How are you going to 
 help it ? " and then he brought one of those big fists 
 in close contact with the side of Clarence's head, 
 without striking him. 
 
 u Now, Jack, listen to me," said Clarence, with 
 out moving an inch. "Do you want to go home? 
 If I should lend you the money, and pay it myself 
 to Harvey Amadore, would you return to your 
 parents ? " 
 
 " As a prodigal son, I suppose you mean. No, 
 indeed ! I have no such intention ; but I do intend 
 to have the money ; so out with it at once, or I'll 
 take it sans ceremonie" 
 
234 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 Just as Jack uttered the last word, a loud tramp 
 ing was heard on the stairs, and soon a violent 
 knocking at the door of Clarence's room. 
 
 Jack crawled under the bed. Clarence opened 
 the door. Two powerful-looking watchmen de 
 manded " Fighting Forman," who had been traced 
 to that room. 
 
 Clarence turned his eyes towards the bed to see 
 if Jack was entirely concealed. 
 
 The watchmen understood it as an indication 
 that he was there, and both the men sprang to the 
 spot, and, in spite of Jack's resistance, dragged him 
 out, and with a strong rope tied his hands behind 
 him. Clarence, who had not spoken a word, looked 
 on in utter amazement. 
 
 When Jack was fairly mastered and entirely 
 under the control of the watchmen, Clarence asked 
 what the man (Jack) had been doing, and why 
 they handled him so roughly. 
 
 " It's very likely you know. You must be one 
 of his gang." 
 
 Jack's laugh at this was perfectly demoniac. 
 
 " We have no order to arrest you," continued the 
 man, " but we shall keep a close eye upon you." 
 
 " I am a citizen of the United States, and only 
 arrived in London day before yesterday. Here is 
 my passport, my letter of credit on the house of 
 Peabody & Co., and my letter of introduction to our 
 ambassador." 
 
" The watchmon dragged him out and tierl his hands behind him.' 
 
 Pag-e M-l. 
 
FIGHTING FORMJHf. 235 
 
 Clarence drew the letters from his pocket as he 
 spoke, and, at the same time, the landlord of the 
 house testified that his lodger came there recom 
 mended by a gentleman in the city. 
 
 " Then how came Fighting Forman to take ref 
 uge here after knocking down two of the watch 
 men ? " inquired the first speaker. 
 
 " He came for money. He happened to have 
 known me in the United States. He is a citizen 
 of the Union." 
 
 " Very likely. Come along, villain. The gal 
 lows is too good for you. You meant to have 
 committed robbery, too." 
 
 Jack, during all this time, had maintained a 
 sullen silence. Now he said, with an oath, " I am 
 not a Yankee." 
 
 As they led him off, he turned to Clarence with 
 a hideous grin, and, shaking his fist in the face of 
 Clarence, said, 
 
 " If I had only had two minutes more, I should 
 have had the money and been off safely. Another 
 chance will offer, and you shan't crow over me 
 then, you mean, low-spirited Yankee." 
 
 44 1 pity you ; from the bottom of my heart I pity 
 you," said Clarence, with deep feeling. t 
 
 " I despise your pity ! " exclaimed Jack, with a 
 terrible oath, as the watchmen dragged the miser 
 able wretch down stairs to place him in the watch- 
 house for the night, and then to bring him before 
 the police court in the morning. 
 
236 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 "So, then," thought Clarence, "this is what 
 Bully Jimson has come to through his love of 
 fighting and his propensity to all kinds of wicked 
 ness. What a lesson ! God be thanked that I 
 have been kept from such horrible crimes. To 
 disclaim his country, too ! A lying traitor ! Well, 
 his country would be disgraced if he acknowledged 
 himself a citizen. I will leave him to his fate. 
 Perhaps it will be imprisonment for life, or even 
 hanging." 
 
 Indeed, so it proved ; for one of the watchmen 
 whom Jack knocked down was killed by the blow, 
 and Bully Jimson's life ended on the gallows. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 NEWS FROM HOME. 
 
 AFTER having visited many of the beautiful 
 country-seats of the nobility and gentry of England, 
 Clarence went to Scotland, and there remained for 
 a few months, at Sandy's earnest entreaty, to learn 
 something of practical gardening. From thence he 
 went to the Continent, and saw France and Italy 
 more thoroughly than most travellers. He then re 
 turned to London, and placed himself in the studio 
 of an architect and landscape gardener. 
 
NEWS FROM HOME. 237 
 
 Not many months after his return to England, he 
 received the following letter from Harvey Ama- 
 dore : 
 
 THE LINDENS. 
 
 MY DEAR CLARENCE : Before this meets your 
 eye, you must have learned from the newspapers, 
 that our beloved country is racked to its very foun 
 dation. Ambitious politicians at the south are 
 leading the slave-holding people on to their ruin. 
 
 You must have heard of the attack upon Fort 
 Sumter in South Carolina South Carolina, the 
 leader in rebellion. 
 
 I will not recapitulate what has already become 
 history. All Europe will be looking on, with eager 
 expectation, to the result of this fearful contest. 
 Every man who loves his country ought to be at 
 home at this eventful period. 
 
 You will be surprised to learn that Harvey Ama- 
 dore is now Captain Amadore. I am raising a 
 volunteer company, and, at my own expense, arm 
 ing and equipping the soldiers. Your brother Pe 
 ter is my color-sergeant, and a noble-looking fellow 
 is he, as he proudly lifts the glorious stars and 
 stripes. I think, however, that as the company will 
 choose some of their officers, he may go as second 
 lieutenant. 
 
 I am sorry to call you away from your artistic 
 pursuits ; but everything else must give way at this 
 
238 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 time for the good of our country. Mr. Fenton re 
 quested me to write to you, and say that you have 
 his consent to return. Indeed, he says it is a dis 
 grace for a citizen of the United States to remain 
 abroad when he may be of service at home. 
 
 Whenever my company leaves for the army, you, 
 my dear Clarence, will have to look after my affairs 
 at Linden Hill, and to take charge of your mother 
 and sister. 
 
 Mrs. Rose, too, is anxious for your return. She 
 is wonderfully patriotic, and wears the red, white, 
 and blue, in all possible ways in which these colors 
 can appear in woman's attire. 
 
 My time is much occupied, for we drill twice a 
 day. Besides studying military tactics myself, I 
 employ an able drill-master, at present ; and I think, 
 whenever we join a regiment, we shall not be a 
 discreditable addition. 
 
 It is worth living for to see a people, as with one 
 heart and soul, uniting enthusiastically to put down 
 rebellion. With God's aid it will be done. 
 
 Excuse this hasty, disconnected scrawl. I trust 
 we shall soon meet, and discuss these weighty mat 
 ters more at leisure. 
 
 I suppose you will take the very next steamer 
 that leaves, after the reception of this letter. 
 Truly yours, 
 
 HARVEY AMADORE. 
 
CAPTAIN AMADORE. 239 
 
 Clarence immediately prepared to leave England 
 with a saddened heart, but full of ardor and love 
 for his native land. His residence and travels in 
 foreign countries had ma$e him only the more sen 
 sible of the blessings of a free government. And 
 that a maddened, Satan-led portion of that country, 
 should attempt to break up and destroy such a gov 
 ernment, seemed to him as incredible as if three or 
 four of the planets should attempt to destroy the 
 solar tystem, or to separate themselves from it. 
 
 Only three days after the reception of the letter 
 from Captain Amadore, Clarence was taking his 
 last look of England from the deck of the steamer. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 CAPTAIN AMADORE. 
 
 THE very day on which Clarence arrived home 
 was the one on which the company of Captain Am 
 adore, numbering one hundred and one, was about 
 
 to leave to join the Regiment of New York 
 
 Volunteers. It was just before sunset on the 4th 
 of July. Already, with knapsacks on their backs, 
 their canteens filled, and their arms brightly gleam 
 ing, they were assembled on the green of Hodgton. 
 A crowd of weeping women and children were look- 
 
240 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 ing on. For half an hour the soldiers were dis 
 missed to take a last leave of these sorrowing, yet 
 rejoicing friends. Rejoicing, for such were the zeal 
 and patriotism of the women, that they gave up to 
 their country what was most precious to them, al 
 though the sacrifice was a heart-rending one. 
 
 Clarence soon found his mother and Lucy among 
 the crowd, and was welcomed by them with a burst 
 of tears joy and thankfulness mingling with their 
 sorrow, just as the sun's rays at that moment min 
 gled with a sudden shower, and a beautiful rainbow 
 spanned the eastern sky. 
 
 Lucy pointed to the auspicious banner in the 
 heavens, and whispered, " Hope." 
 
 Pete, in his regimentals, with the lieutenant's 
 strap on his shoulder, stepped up proudly to Clar 
 ence, and gave him such a grip of the hand as 
 almost to cause a shriek. 
 
 " Why, old fellow, you are magnificent," said 
 Clarence. "I thought you were color-sergeant?" 
 
 " I should have liked to have carried the stars 
 and stripes to the war, but the captain wanted me 
 for his second lieutenant, and I obey captain's 
 orders, whatever they may be." 
 
 Evidently the tall soldier was choking down his 
 feelings, while he spoke to Clarence ; but when he 
 turned to his mother and Lucy, the manly lieuten 
 ant could no longer control them. Big tears, which 
 he indignantly shook off, betrayed what he consid 
 ered unmanly weakness. 
 
CAPTAIN AMADORE. 241 
 
 Harvey came to greet Clarence, and took him 
 aside to give him some directions with regard to 
 the management at Linden Hill, during the cap 
 tain's absence. 
 
 " You know," said he, " that noor Sandy is at 
 rest." 
 
 "At rest!" 
 
 " Gone to his long home. Better for him, no 
 doubt, than to have been left in his old age to mourn 
 over the condition of his adopted country. You 
 will now have the sole charge of the garden and 
 grounds, as master. Employ as many workmen as 
 you please. The head work is all that will be re 
 quired of you." 
 
 After a few parting words with Mrs. Paverley 
 and Lucy, Harvey put himself at the head of his 
 company. The band struck up Yankee Doodle, as 
 if to drown sorrow and excite patriotic enthusiasm 
 by that lively air ; and the Hodgton company 
 marched away, followed by the earnest prayers of 
 mothers, wives, sisters, and sweethearts. 
 
 " Ah, few shall meet, where many part" for the 
 battle-field will be their death-bed, and their requiem 
 the cannon's roar. 
 
 When thQ Paverley family returned home to the 
 white cottage, they could give the cordial welcome 
 to Clarence, which their absorbed interest in the 
 company had prevented. Mrs. Rose was with 
 them ; a long ribbon of red, white, and blue was 
 16 
 
242 TRUE MAJVLIMESS. 
 
 worn on one arm, and. her bonnet was trimmed with 
 the same colors. These outward demonstrations of 
 patriotism were true to the fervent sentiment within 
 the bosom of Mrs. Rose. Night and day she had 
 worked for the soldiers, scraping lint, rolling ban 
 dages, and making " Havelocks." 
 
 Mrs. Rose had been prosperous in her business, 
 and was now aided in her work by two apprentices. 
 Her joy at the return of Clarence was almost as 
 great as if he had indeed been her own son. 
 
 " Who would have thought that you were to be 
 come an artist?" said she, regarding Clarence with 
 intense admiration. " A landscape gardener and 
 architect ! That sounds well." And then she 
 whispered to Lucy, " Isn't he splendid ! " 
 
 Though very differently expressed, even deeper 
 was the joy of Mrs. Paverley and Lucy. 
 
 During the absence of Clarence, his sister had 
 kept on with her studies and a course of reading 
 on the countries he was visiting, aided by books 
 from Captain Amadore's library, till she was almost 
 as familiar with the cathedrals of England, and the 
 ancient remains of art in Italy, as Clarence him 
 self. It became, in time, a source of intense pleas 
 ure to the brother and sister to "compare notes" 
 on these subjects. 
 
 The dreadful storm of war swept over the land 
 like a tornado, felling to the earth alike the fresh, 
 young hopes of home and country, and the stout, 
 stern men of riper years. 
 
CAPTAIN AM AD ORE. 243 
 
 Scarcely ten months elapsed before Harvey was 
 desperately wounded while gallantly leading on a 
 part of the regiment to which he was attached. 
 Pete had become first lieutenant of the company. 
 No braver soldier was in that regiment than Peter 
 Paverley ; and now he was captain of the company 
 which had been raised by Harvey. In the battle 
 in which Harvey lost an arm and was wounded in 
 the knee, his life was saved by Peter ; the brave 
 lieutenant struck down with his sword a rebel, who 
 stooped over the wounded captain to despatch him 
 with a bowie-knife. 
 
 Peter then, with the aid of a soldier, gently placed 
 Harvey on a stretcher, and he was carried to the 
 rear. When the battle had been fought and won by 
 our gallant army, Harvey was carried to a hospital, 
 where his right arm was amputated, and a bullet 
 extracted from his knee. There, in the hospital, he 
 remained for three months, vibrating between life 
 and death. Nothing but his calm, resigned state of 
 mind, and the strict temperance of his former life, 
 which had kept his blood pure, saved him (humanly 
 speaking), from the grasp of death. One of the 
 devoted women who attended most lovingly to the 
 wounded in that hospital, remarked, " that of all 
 the patients she had seen, Captain Amadore was the 
 most cheerful." And when she lamented that he 
 should have lost an arm, his reply was, " I couldn't 
 have lost it in a better cause ; and I trust God has 
 
244 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 saved my life that I may witness the final success 
 of this struggle, and the restoration of my country 
 to unity and peace." 
 
 After an absence of more than a year from home, 
 Harvey returned to the Lindens. 
 
 The house had been closed, and Aunty Dotty was 
 living with another relative many miles distant. It 
 was a desolate abode for one still feeble from long 
 and dangerous illness. The servant who had at 
 tended Captain Amadore ever since he left home 
 alone was with him now. As soon as Clarence 
 heard of Harvey's arrival, he hastened to him with 
 intense interest and sympathy. Harvey was reclin 
 ing, pale and languid, on a sofa in the library. At 
 the sight of Clarence he raised himself, and ex 
 tended his left hand. A bright smile illumined his 
 pale countenance, as he gave Clarence a cordial 
 greeting. 
 
 Alas ! Clarence could only see that loose, empty 
 coat-sleeve, and the thin, wasted form which had 
 gone forth so full of manly strength and beauty. 
 Tears filled his eyes, and a silent grasp of the 
 hand, the only hand, testified his grief. 
 
 " Cheer up, man ; don't look so doleful. I shall 
 soon get back my health in this sweet country air. 
 How lovely the old place looks ! As I drove up the 
 avenue, I was struck with the great improvement 
 you have made in it during my absence." 
 
 " Thank you," said Clarence, with a husky voice. 
 
CAPTAIN JMJDORE. 245 
 
 " And how are Mrs. Paverley, and Miss Lucy, 
 and Mrs. Rose, too. Are they all as patriotic as 
 ever?" 
 
 " Even more so." 
 
 " Well, they will have one soldier at home to 
 care for, who will not, however, prevent them from 
 more extended benevolence. Now, Clarence, I 
 have been thinking there is no nurse who would 
 suit me as well as your good mother. Can you 
 persuade her to leave the white cottage and come to 
 the Lindens, with Miss Lucy and yourself, till I am 
 stronger ? " 
 
 " If you wish it, certainly." 
 
 " Well, then, please make your arrangements as 
 speedily as possible. Take your choice of the 
 rooms in this dreary house, and drive out the rats, 
 who have taken full possession." 
 
 It was with reluctance that the Paverley family 
 left the white cottage, where they had passed so 
 many quiet, pleasant years in contented labor. 
 
 Mrs. Rose said she could spare Biddy to take 
 charge of the dairy and poultry-yard till the family 
 returned to the cottage ; and so they flitted to the 
 Lindens without removing an article, excepting 
 wearing apparel. 
 
 Good Mrs. Paverley ! Sad, indeed, it was to her 
 as she took the place beside the sofa of Captain 
 Amadore, to feed him almost as she would a child ; 
 for he had not yet acquired facility in the use of his 
 
246 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 left hand. The wound in his knee had injured the 
 joint, so that he was quite lame. And yet withal 
 he was so cheerful ! When he saw the tears stream 
 ing over Mrs. Paverley's cheek, he said, 
 
 " Don't weep for me, Mrs. Paverley. It is God's 
 will. Besides, there are many poor fellows in a 
 much worse condition than I am. I hope the coun 
 try will take care of those who haven't a home of 
 their own." 
 
 The mother's thoughts now went forth to her own 
 absent son, and her hand so trembled that she could 
 scarcely carry the spoon, with which she was giving 
 soup to her patient, to his mouth. 
 
 Clarence was so much occupied with new cares 
 and duties, in addition to those which had previously 
 devolved upon him, that he had very little time to 
 spare to Harvey. 
 
 Day by day the invalid was gaining strength. 
 After he had been at home nearly a fortnight, he 
 said to Clarence, 
 
 " Do you know my eyes are so weak that I can 
 not read without pain ? " 
 
 " Is it possible ! Cannot Moses read to you? " 
 
 Moses was the captain's servant. 
 
 Harvey laughed as he replied, " His reading is 
 h la Partington. The other day, in attempting to 
 give me the news from a paper, he read, ' variable 
 institution without ammunition.' Now, what do 
 you suppose it really was ? " 
 
CAP TAIN AMADORE. 247 
 
 " I can't conjecture." 
 
 " Valuable informatioa without remuneration." 
 
 " Lucy is a good reader ; she might assist you." 
 
 " If she would be so obliging it would be a great 
 favor. I am anxious for my daily paper, and when 
 it comes it is tantalizing, for I cannot read a column 
 without pain." 
 
 Now Lucy had not seen the captain since his 
 return ; and as there were servants in the house to 
 attend to the work of the family, she had been 
 comparatively idle. 
 
 When Clarence proposed that she should become 
 Harvey's reader, she expressed diffidence as to her 
 ability ; but Clarence reassured her, and she, at 
 last, consented to go to the library, at eleven o'clock 
 daily, to read the paper. 
 
 Clarence had not done justice to Lucy in saying 
 she was "a good reader: " she was more. Her 
 voice was one of uncommon sweetness and compass. 
 Its modulations and cadences were charming ; there 
 was always in it an under-current of pathos. More 
 over, she was an appreciative reader, and gave 
 emphasis and expression to every sentence. From 
 reading the newspaper, Lucy was persuaded to read 
 favorite books from the library, while Mrs. Paverley 
 sat by with her knitting her favorite employment, 
 now devoted to soldiers' stockings. 
 
 Thus passed many pleasant hours. Harvey was 
 able, after some weeks, to hobble about with the aid 
 
248 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 of a cane, and to use bis left hand quite felicitously. 
 He learned rapidly to write with it a back hand, 
 however ; he could not write otherwise. 
 
 A little pony carriage was ordered from the city, 
 and in this he could drive about the grounds with 
 Clarence. 
 
 It was the rose season, leafy June, when he made 
 his first excursion, and the beauty of the garden was 
 so intensely exciting, that, for the first time since his 
 return, his eyes moistened with tears. 
 
 " Clarence," said he, " how wonderful it is that 
 God has given man the ability to improve the 
 Creator's own works. Here must be forty or fifty 
 varieties of roses, all from the original little five- 
 leaved flower." 
 
 " Seventy varieties," replied Clarence, proudly, 
 " and a dozen more if my experiments prove suc 
 cessful. And now you must look at your strawber 
 ries. There are twenty varieties here." 
 
 A hedge of daily roses surrounded the strawber 
 ry-beds, which occupied a large space. 
 
 " Sweets to the sweet," said Harvey. 
 
 Clarence placed the reins in Harvey's hand, and 
 stepped out of the low pony carriage to gather a 
 bunch of the " triomphe de Gand " for Harvey, the 
 first strawberries that had ripened. They then 
 drove about the grounds, and over and over again 
 Harvey expressed his delight at the beautiful im 
 provements Clarence had planned and executed. 
 
CAPTAIW AMADORE. 249 
 
 The next morning after the drive about the 
 grounds, as Lucy was reading the morning paper, 
 she suddenly stopped. The name of Captain Paver- 
 ley attracted her attention. She read the passage to 
 herself. 
 
 " What is it ? " inquired Harvey, anxiously. 
 
 " O, sir, my brother has been promoted for bra 
 very in the last battle under General Sheridan. He 
 is now Major Paverley." 
 
 Harvey took the paper from Lucy, and read the 
 passage. 
 
 "In an extreme emergency, Captain Paverley 
 volunteered to pass the river with his company for 
 a reconnoissance. It was an exceedingly dangerous 
 and difficult attempt ; but it proved entirely success 
 ful, with the loss of only two men killed and five 
 wounded. Captain Paverley, for his remarkable 
 coolness and bravery, was promoted. He now 
 ranks as major. He is one of the bravest and best 
 officers in the Regiment of New York Volun 
 teers." 
 
 " True, very true ; your brother well deserves 
 promotion. You know, Lucy, I owe my life to 
 him, under Providence. Pete is a noble fellow. 
 The boys in the company were very proud of him. 
 God grant he may be spared for his country's sake." 
 
 A slight shade of sadness passed over Harvey's 
 usually serene, cheerful countenance, and he added, 
 *' I try to be contented to be laid aside like a use- 
 
250 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 less old hulk; but when I hear of these daring 
 deeds my heart throbs and my brain whirls. I 
 long for the field." 
 
 " Is it possible ! " exclaimed Lucy. " We are all 
 so thankful to have you here, gradually regaining 
 your health." 
 
 Harvey pointed to his right shoulder and his lame 
 knee, and sighed. 
 
 With a trembling voice Lucy renewed the reading. 
 
 Two months had passed, and Captain Amadore 
 had not entirely regained his health and strength ; 
 but he no longer needed careful nursing. 
 
 Mrs. Paverley proposed to return to the white 
 cottage. 
 
 At this proposal Harvey became thoughtful and 
 sad. 
 
 " I shall be very lonely without you and Clar 
 ence, and," here Harvey hesitated, and after a 
 moment's pause added, " and my excellent reader. 
 Why need you leave ? " 
 
 " I think it is time for me to attend to the dairy. 
 Biddy and her helper have done pretty well, but I 
 think, sir, it would be more for your interest if I 
 attended to the business." 
 
 " It would be much more for my interest to have 
 you remain here. I will speak to Clarence about it." 
 
 So, the first opportunity that occurred, Harvey 
 opened the subject, or, rather in a roundabout way, 
 came to it. 
 
AMADORE. 251 
 
 "Have you thought, Clarence, how and where 
 you are to be established in your profession as 
 architect and landscape gardener? " 
 
 " I have not formed any definite plan." 
 
 " You have shown your skill here, and I prize 
 you highly ; but you ought to be setting up for 
 yourself. For my own pleasure I would retain 
 you near me ; but you have talent and taste that 
 will lead you to eminence and usefulness. I shall 
 be most happy to aid you in any possible way in 
 setting up for yourself." 
 
 44 Thank you, captain. Through your generous 
 kindness, and Mr. Fenton's, I am ready to put out 
 my shingle, as the saying is, in some city. I think 
 I should like Boston. There is more taste for 
 landscape gardening there, I am told, than in any 
 other part of our country, and a need of educated 
 architects. Besides, I like the style of folks there. 
 They are liberal, intellectual, and refined. But I 
 should be sorry to leave you ; and now, in Pete's 
 absence, I don't like to leave my mother and 
 sister." 
 
 " I will be a son to your mother if she will ac 
 cept me as such," the color mounted to the fore 
 head of Harvey as he added, u and more than a 
 brother to your sister." 
 
 Clarence was taken by surprise, and looked wist 
 fully at Harvey for explanation. 
 
 With some embarrassment, he continued, 
 
252 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 " I feel as though it would be cruel to ask any 
 woman to be my ' other half,' when I could add 
 only a quarter myself; so you see it would be ask 
 ing three quarters to my fraction in order to make 
 4 one,' scripturally." 
 
 This was said with an effort at pleasantry, but 
 the deep under-current of sadness betrayed itself. 
 
 Clarence was entirely at a loss what reply to 
 make. Harvey continued, " I have never seen 
 Lucy's equal. Do you think it would be unjust and 
 unkind to your sister to ask her to aid me in mak 
 ing my shattered existence comfortable, and in 
 helping me to be of some use in the world ? " 
 
 " Neither unjust nor unkind ; but I have sup 
 posed that other motives ought to actuate a man in 
 such a case. I am not romantic, but I believe in 
 the sentiment that binds two into one." 
 
 Harvey laughed a bitter laugh ; it was the only 
 tincture of bitterness that had poisoned his heart 
 since his misfortune. 
 
 " Then you think I am not capable now of inspir 
 ing that sentiment." 
 
 " Never were you more worthy. Never were 
 you so truly and nobly manly as now," replied 
 Clarence, warmly and earnestly ; then, after a 
 moment's pause, he added, "Harvey, speak to 
 Lucy yourself." 
 
 " I have never been alone with her a- moment in 
 my life, and, I assure you, had never entertained 
 
WHO WOULD HAVE. THOU OUT IT! 253 
 
 any other sentiment than that of friendship till since 
 my return home. Her devotion as a daughter and 
 a sister won my esteem. On a nearer acquaintance, 
 I find in her all those attributes calculated to render 
 a quiet, retired country-life agreeable and useful. 
 My only fear is, that she is so compassionate and so 
 disinterested, that she will merely accept my propo 
 sals from pity. That I could not endure ; and yet," 
 he added with a sigh, " what other motive could 
 induce her to take charge of such a helpless being 
 as I am ? " 
 
 " I can only repeat what I have said. Speak to 
 Lucy yourself. You have my best wishes." So 
 saying Clarence left Harvey, and requested Lucy to 
 step into the library. 
 
 CHAPTEE XXXVI. 
 
 WHO WOULD HAVE THOUGHT IT! 
 
 Letter from Pete : 
 
 MOTHER, DEAR MOTHER : "We are on the eve of 
 a battle. I think it will be a tremendous one. Per 
 haps I shall share the fate of many a brave fellow, 
 and be left on the battle-field. 
 
254 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 Mother, at such a time as this, a man examines 
 himself, to know what he has done and what he has 
 left undone. 
 
 I have not been to you all that I ought to have 
 been. Many times I have been wilful and unduti- 
 ful. I now ask your forgiveness. If I fall in 
 battle, remember me kindly. It nerves me to think 
 you will be praying for me. Of all the blessings 
 God has given me, I thank him most heartily, at 
 this moment, for having given me a good, pious 
 mother and sister. 
 
 Give my best love to Lucy and Captain Ama- 
 dore. I am sorry to learn that he has not re 
 covered the use of that wounded leg, and that he is 
 still very lame. What a mercy it is that he has 
 such a helpmeet and companion as our dear, modest, 
 sweet Lucy ! God bless them both. 
 
 Clarence, you tell me, is doing well in Boston. 
 Love to him. He has been a true, kind brother to 
 me ; more kind than I have been to him. O, how 
 I love you all ! 
 
 In haste, your devoted son, 
 
 PETE. 
 
 P. S. Already I hear the distant roar of an at 
 tack upon one of our columns. God be with us, 
 and defend the right cause, the cause of truth and 
 justice ! 
 
 Not many months after the receipt of Pete's let- 
 
WHO WOULD HAVE. THOUGHT IT! 255 
 
 ter, the news reached the white cottage of the fall 
 of Richmond and the surrender of Lee's army. 
 Alas for the awful calamity that followed ! a 
 calamity, the sorrow for which will never pass from 
 the hearts of all who loved and honored our truly 
 great and excellent President ! Abra"ham Lincoln's 
 example remains a rich bequest to every boy who 
 would attain to " true manliness." 
 
 Pete came home Colonel Paverley. 
 
 " Who would have thought it ! " exclaimed the 
 delighted mother. " Our Pete a colonel ! " 
 
 Mrs. Rose was soon at the white cottage to con 
 gratulate the colonel on having so well served his 
 country. 
 
 " And what are you going to do with yourself 
 now? " she asked. " I suppose you have got so at 
 tached to the army, you will not be willing to throw 
 aside your regimentals." 
 
 " Indeed, I shall be willing to do so till my 
 country calls me to her aid again," he replied ; 
 " but," he added, fervently, " may that time be far 
 distant ; or, rather, may we never have cause to 
 defend ourselves again from a foe, domestic or for 
 eign, as long as this great republic endures. I am 
 going back to farming, and expect my good mother 
 to live with me." 
 
 " Indeed ! Like Cincinnatus and Washington," 
 said Mrs. Rose, " you go back to the plough." 
 
 The colonel smiled, as he said, " You place great 
 
256 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 examples before me. I have just come from the 
 Lindens. Captain Amadore has leased to me the 
 outlying farm of Hardscrabble. There I expect to 
 employ my skill in farming ; to bring a rough, un 
 productive soil into a state of high cultivation. My 
 highest ambition is to be a firsUrate farmer." 
 
 " Well, colonel," said Mrs. Rose, u I have found 
 from experience, that there is nothing so conducive 
 to happiness in this world, as being regularly and 
 constantly employed, in such a way as to be inde 
 pendent yourself, and able and inclined to do good 
 to others, who are not able to help themselves. 
 Clarence has offered to have me come and live with 
 him in Boston, where he is succeeding wonderfully 
 in his profession ; but I have declined his generous 
 offer, for the sake of what poor old Sandy would 
 have called c the glorious privilege of being inde 
 pendent.' 
 
 " Or," said Colonel Paverley, " as one of our 
 own poets hath it, 
 
 * Independent of all, save the mercy of God.' " 
 
v * 
 
 '