THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 . 
 
 AA<7,/1 
 
 

 
 LIST OF SEEIES. 
 
 I. HIDDEN WINGS, AND OTHER STORIES. 
 II. SOTTING THE WIND, AND OTHER STORIES. 
 
 III. SUNSHINE AT HOME, AND OTHER STORIES. 
 
 IV. THE PEACEMAKER, AND OTHER STORIES. 
 
 V. NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE, AND OTHER STORIES. 
 VI. AFTER A SHADOW, AND OTHER STORIES.
 
 NOT ANYTHING FOE PEACE, 
 
 AND 
 
 OTHER STORIES.
 
 Repentance.
 
 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE, 
 
 OTHER STORIES. 
 
 BY T. S. ARTHUR. 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 
 SHELDON & COMPANY, PUBLISHERS, 
 498 & 500 BROADWAY. 
 
 1869.
 
 Entered, according to Act of Congress, In the year 1868, 
 BY SHELDON & CO., 
 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the 
 Southern District of New York. 
 
 Stereotyped at the Boston Stereotype Foundry, 
 19 Spring Lane.
 
 ?5 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 * PACT 
 
 NOT ANYTHING FOB PEACE. ...... 9 
 
 II. 
 
 WISHING AND DOING 124 
 
 III. 
 KILLING AN ENEMY. ....... 134 
 
 IV. 
 
 THE BARGAINS. . 146 
 
 V. 
 
 LITTLE MARY . 171 
 
 VI. 
 
 DISCORDANT STRINGS. ....... 175 
 
 (7) 
 
 622695
 
 8 CONTENTS. 
 
 VII. 
 
 PAGB 
 
 PHARISEE AND PUBLICAN. ...... 182 
 
 VIII. 
 
 THE Two VASES . 193 
 
 IX. 
 IN TROUBLE .... 214 
 
 X. 
 
 IN THE LAST TIME. . , 228
 
 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE, 
 
 AND OTHER STOEIES. 
 
 I. 
 
 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 
 
 Two men, named Archibald Wing and Thomas 
 Ellis, owning property that was divided by a 
 small stream having a good fall, joined equally 
 in the expense of building a dam in order to 
 secure a water power for milling purposes. 
 Wing, who was a Scotchman, and originally 
 a weaver, built a small woollen-factory, while 
 Ellis erected a flouriug-mill. 
 
 Almost from the outset of this arrangement 
 the parties disagreed. *' Wing was a far-sighted, 
 selfish, and unscrupulous person, who looked 
 simply to his own advantage, while Ellis had 
 regard to what was just between man and man. 
 
 (9)
 
 10 NOT ANYTHING FOE PEACE. 
 
 The site on one bank of the stream was supe 
 rior to that on the other, the advantage being 
 in favor of the Scotchman. Comprehending 
 this, he offered to sell his neighbor as much 
 ground as would be required for locating his 
 mill a few hundred yards below the point 
 selected for his own. Ellis was about ac 
 cepting this proposition, when a mutual friend 
 warned him against an arrangement which might 
 lead to trouble. 
 
 "Build on your own side," said the friend, 
 " even though some disadvantages are involved. 
 In any disagreement with Wing, don't you see 
 that he will have it in his power to annoy 
 and injure you by stopping the supply of 
 water?" 
 
 "He cannot stop my mill without stopping 
 his own," answered Mr. Ellis. " So you see I 
 have a guarantee in that consideration." 
 
 "Don't trust to any such guarantee. There 
 are men of so revengeful a spirit that they will 
 not hesitate at wronging even themselves so that 
 injury may fall upon another. I don't charge 
 such a spirit on Mr. Wing ; but you know, as
 
 NOT ANYTHING FOE PEACE. H 
 
 well as I do, that he has some strange peculiari 
 ties of character, and is inclined to disagree 
 ments with his neighbors. He is self-willed, 
 and much disposed to have things his own 
 way." 
 
 "I don't see how trouble can arise between 
 us," replied Ellis. "The water, as it comes 
 from his wheel, will enter my fore-bay. The 
 matter is very simple." 
 
 " May I suggest a way in which trouble can 
 arise ? " 
 
 "O, certainly. Forewarned, forearmed, as 
 the proverb says." 
 
 "His works will be lighter than yours." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "And, therefore, require less water." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " The ordinary quantity flowing from his tail- 
 race will not give you sufficient head for more 
 than a single pair of mill-stones." 
 
 "I am sure you err in that." 
 
 " Will it be amply sufficient for two pairs ? " 
 asked the neighbor. 
 
 " Perhaps not," was answered.
 
 12 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 
 
 "What then?" 
 
 "He must keep his waste-gate open, of 
 course." 
 
 "But will he, friend Ellis?" 
 
 "Do you question it?" was asked, in manifest 
 surprise. 
 
 " Will it be wise for you to place yourself so 
 much in the power of any man? I say, no ; and 
 if you are not fully committed in the plan of 
 building on Wing's side of the falls, take my 
 advice, and build on your own. Draw your 
 supply of water through your own race, direct 
 from the dam, and then you will be indepen 
 dent." 
 
 On reflection, Mr. Ellis resolved to heed this 
 advice, and, immediately calling on his neigh 
 bor, notified him that he would build on his own 
 ground. 
 
 " But you have agreed to buy the site on my 
 ground," answered Wing, manifesting consider 
 able disturbance. 
 
 "The bargain was not closed," Ellis replied, 
 speaking firmly. "We talked it over, and I 
 own that, on first considering your proposal,
 
 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 13 
 
 I favored it. Since turning it over in my mind, 
 however, I have concluded to build on my own 
 side, and take water direct from the dam." 
 
 "But, don't you see," urged Mr. Wing, "that 
 in this event we shall, during the summer time, 
 have a short supply of water, and neither of us 
 be able to run over half the time? while, if we 
 use the same water, you receiving it after me, 
 as proposed, the head will be sufficient in the 
 dryest season." 
 
 "I don't apprehend trouble from that source," 
 ansAvered Mr. Ellis ; " and if I can get water 
 enough for my purposes, you will have more 
 than enough. In any event, the loss will be 
 mine, for your machinery will go whirring like 
 a top under a head of water scarcely sufficient 
 to set a single pair of mill-stones in motion." 
 
 Wing soon saw that his neighbor was in 
 earnest, and that it would be of no use to press 
 him further on the subject. So the matter 
 dropped between them, and both joined in con 
 structing the dam. But, all the while it was 
 building, Wing silently pondered the means of 
 securing an advantage over Mr. Ellis. The
 
 14 NOT ANYTHING FOE PEACE. 
 
 fact that the flouring-mill would take more 
 water than he could use in his small establish 
 ment, worried his mind whenever the thought 
 was presented. It seemed as if Mr. Ellis were 
 getting an advantage over him, and that was 
 something he never could submit to passively. 
 If there was to be any advantage, in his dealing 
 with other men, it must be on his side. 
 
 In a matter so intimately touching the rights 
 of both parties as the joint ownership and re 
 spective obligations connected with the mill-dam, 
 it was deemed safest to have a paper drawn up 
 by a skilful lawyer, defining their relative duties 
 and interests. Ellis was not very particular 
 about the form, accepting the general scope 
 of the document in its first draft; but Wing 
 scanned every sentence with care, and weighed 
 the meaning of each important word with sus 
 picious accuracy. A dozen alterations were 
 made before he would consent to sign the 
 paper. 
 
 Almost simultaneously with the beginning of 
 work on the dam, were operations commenced 
 by the two men at their respective mill sites;
 
 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 15 
 
 and these went on vigorously, until the walls of 
 each building began to rise above the well-laid 
 foundations. 
 
 About this time, certain movements on the 
 spot which was at first selected by Mr. Ellis, 
 .on his neighbor's side of the stream, attracted 
 his attention. Men were engaged in clearing 
 it up, digging, and hauling away cart-loads of 
 earth. A suspicion flashed into the mind of 
 Mr. Ellis ; but he pushed it aside as unworthy. 
 Still the digging went on, and, in a day or two, 
 he saw stone begin to arrive. This was con 
 clusive as to the purpose of his neighbor to 
 erect a building of some kind. So Mr. Ellis 
 went over, and asked a few questions in a 
 friendly way, to which he received cold and 
 unsatisfactory replies. 
 
 The only thing really learned was, that Mr. 
 "Wing had rented the ground to a man living in 
 the next village, a Mr. Adam Wheeler, who was 
 going to put up some kind of works ; what, Mr. 
 Wing averred, he neither knew nor cared. 
 
 " Is he to have water power ? " was the natu 
 ral inquiry of Mr. Ellis.
 
 16 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 
 
 To this query he got only the same don't- 
 know and don't-care reply. 
 
 "But," said Mr. Ellis, iu respectful remon 
 strance, "it is of concern for me to know 
 whether there are to be two mills to take 
 water from the dam on your side, or only 
 one." 
 
 With this, Wing fired up, and became rather 
 abusive, at the same time claiming the right to 
 take at least as much water as his neighbor, 
 which could not be as things stood in their 
 original aspect. Mr. Ellis was a peace-loving 
 man, and retired from this contest, resolved to 
 let things take their course rather than get into 
 a quarrel with his neighbor. "I shall manage 
 to get water enough," he said to himself, and so 
 went on with the work of construction. 
 
 But a friend who saw what was in progress 
 across the falls brought the subject back again 
 to the consideration of Mr. Ellis, and enjoined 
 him, by all means, to have the matter definitely 
 settled before advancing a single step farther. 
 Together the contract was examined, and the 
 friend pointed out and dwelt upon a clause, that,
 
 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 17 
 
 interpreted in, the spirit of the whole agreement, 
 would prevent Wing from using water except 
 for the woollen-mill he was engaged in erecting. 
 Other clauses, which Wing had introduced into 
 the agreement, were of rather vague significa 
 tion, and might be urged, in a lawsuit, against 
 the evident reading of the document. Mr. Ellis 
 
 \I3 
 
 saw this, and remarked, in a rather discouraged 
 voice, 
 
 " I'm afraid I've been tricked. My neighbor 
 has been too sharp for me." 
 
 " So much the more necessity for stopping 
 where you are," said the friend. "The dam 
 cannot be completed without your consent, as 
 one side rests on your property." 
 
 " I'm not so sure of that," answered Ellis. " In 
 this contract, I assented to the erection, and 
 could be held to my agreement. The work 
 cannot be stopped now." 
 
 "It would be stopped, if I were in your 
 place," returned the friend. "Not another 
 stone or timber should be laid until the ques 
 tion now involved was finally adjusted." 
 
 "I don't want to get into a quarrel with 
 2
 
 18 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 
 
 Wing; and a quarrel I am sure to have if I 
 cross him now. Let the matter pass, and come 
 out as it will. Anything for peace. I shall get 
 all the water required for my mill, no doubt. 
 Except for two or three months in the year, no 
 short supply need be apprehended." 
 
 "There is only one way to peace," said the 
 friend ; " and that is the way of mutual rights. 
 If you permit a single aggression from a bad 
 man, you only encourage him to further wrongs. 
 Success, to the evil, is like the taste of blood on 
 a tiger's lips. Make a stand now, while you 
 occupy some vantage ground." 
 
 " And get into a lawsuit ? " 
 
 "Perhaps yea, perhaps nay. But if the law 
 suit is to come, accept it on the threshold, and 
 settle the dispute before all you have is invested 
 in these improvements which may be rendered 
 valueless by some unlooked-for move of your 
 neighbor across the falls." 
 
 But Mr. Ellis had not sufficient courage to 
 accept the issue. "Anything for peace," he 
 kept saying to himself; "anything for peace ;" 
 and went on with his mill and the dam.
 
 NOT ANYTHING FOE PEACE. 19 
 
 No very long time passed before word came 
 to Mr. Ellis that Adam Wheeler, the person to 
 whom Wing had rented the site, was going to 
 put up a grist-mill. This he did not credit at 
 first; for he could not believe so ill a thing of 
 his neighbor. But it was repeated to him 
 again and again, and by such good authority 
 that he felt bound to look carefully into the 
 matter. So he went to the other side for per 
 sonal investigation. Since the remonstrance 
 at first entered, there had been coldness be 
 tween him and Mr. Wing, and they had, in 
 mutual repulsion, stood aloof from each other. 
 
 On visiting the site to which we have re 
 ferred, he found Mr. Wheeler on the ground. 
 Questions in regard to the improvements he 
 saw progressing were not needed. His prac 
 tised eyes read, at a glance, the purpose of 
 everything. 
 
 "You are putting up a flouring-mill, I see," 
 was his remark to Wheeler. 
 
 "I am," was the steady reply. 
 
 Mr. Ellis looked at the man sharply for some 
 moments, and then put the question,
 
 20 NOT ANYTHING FOE PEACE. 
 
 "Are you not 'advised that the building of 
 such a mill is in violation of my contract with 
 Mr. Wing?" 
 
 "I don't know anything about your arrange 
 ments with Mr. Wing," curtly answered Wheeler. 
 " Mine with him are clear enough. I have paid 
 for water privileges, and shall use them. If you 
 have anything to object, lay the case before 
 Wing." 
 
 The blood of Mr. Ellis was sitrred. He felt 
 angry and combative. 
 
 " I'll see about this ! " he said to himself, strid 
 ing away from the place, and going in search of 
 Mr. Wing. He was resolved to take issue at 
 onse, and, as his friend had advised him, settle 
 this matter with the Scotchman, even at the ex- 
 pence of a lawsuit. 
 
 But it so happened that Wing was absent; 
 and before Ellis reached his own side of the 
 falls, his hot blood lost its ardor, and moved 
 more slowly along his veins. 
 
 " Anything for peace," dropping from his lips, 
 as he entered his own premises, told the story 
 of his state of mind.
 
 NOT ANYTHING FOE PEACE. 21 
 
 On the next day, in cooler blood, he met the 
 Scotchman, who put on a repellent countenance. 
 
 " I was over to see you, yesterday," said Mr. 
 Ellis. 
 
 " Ah ! I was not aware of it." Wing's aspect 
 grew more forbidding. He did know of the 
 visit, and of what had passed between his 
 neighbor and Mr. Wheeler. 
 
 " I called to ascertain if something I had heard 
 was really true." 
 
 "What did you hear?" 
 
 " That Wheeler was building a flouring-mill." 
 
 " And did you satisfy yourself? " Wing's tone 
 and manner were offensive. 
 
 I did." 
 
 " He is building a flouring-mill ? " 
 
 " Yes, under a right accepted from you ; but a 
 right which our contract does not, as you are 
 aware, authorize." 
 
 " As / am aware ? " There was affected sur 
 prise, as well as indignation, in the voice of 
 Wing. 
 
 "Certainly, as you are aware," coolly an 
 swered Mr. Ellis. "In the joint building of this
 
 22 NOT ANYTHING FOE PEACE. 
 
 dam, only a single mill on either side was con 
 templated. Your use of it was to be limited to 
 a woollen-mill, and mine to a fioiiring-rnill." 
 
 "Is that set down, in so many words, in the 
 contract ? " asked Wing, almost with a sneer. 
 
 " If not in so many words, the spirit is there ; 
 and your, course now is in direct violation of 
 that spirit." 
 
 " Go home and read your contract again," said 
 Wing, in a very offensive manner, and turned 
 away, haughtily, from his neighbor. 
 
 Ellis did read it again, over and over, half a 
 dozen times, and, at each new reading, saw the 
 stipulations less and less clearly. As first drawn, 
 the contract was a very plain one, expressing 
 the rights of each in a few explicit words ; but, 
 under the changes and interpolations suggested 
 by the wily Scotchman, he could not understand 
 it as binding to any specific thing, in fair read 
 able language. After worrying himself over the 
 matter for a day or two, Mr. Ellis, who, in his 
 very soul, detested strife, receded from the reso 
 lute position which, under the excitement of 
 natural indignation he had assumed, and, justify-
 
 NOT ANYTHING FOE PEACE. 3 
 
 ing his weak, non-combatant inclinations by the 
 oft-repeated sentiment, "Anything for peace," 
 let the issue pass, and went on with the work of 
 building his mill. 
 
 A few weeks more were permitted to elapse 
 without any movement on the part of Mr. Ellis 
 towards a settlement of this serious difference 
 of opinion between him and Mr. Wing, touching 
 their mutual rights and privileges under the 
 contract for building the dam. The original 
 understanding between them was plain enough, 
 and he had considered the written agreement as 
 a simple record of that understanding. To have 
 deviated in anything from its true meaning he 
 would have regarded as seeking a dishonorable 
 advantage. The conduct of his neighbor, there 
 fore, outraged his sense of justice quite as much 
 as it alarmed his fears. It was plain that wrong 
 was intended ; but he could not make up his 
 mind to resist the wrong, and so get into a 
 quarrel. 
 
 Mr. Ellis was standing by the nearly finished 
 abutment against which, the dam and head-gates 
 on his side of the stream were to rest, examining
 
 24 NOT ANYTHING POK PEACE. 
 
 the work, when the friend who had before 
 warned him against his neighbor on the other 
 side came up, and said, 
 
 " How have you settled that difference with 
 Wing? I see that Wheeler is still going on 
 with the flouring-mill." 
 
 "It isn't settled at all," replied Mr. Ellis. 
 "The fact is, Wing and I have not met since we 
 conversed on the subject." 
 
 The friend shook his head, saying, 
 
 "Wrong, all wrong, Mr. Ellis. You're mak 
 ing trouble for the future. Stop where you are. 
 Don't lay another stone or another timber until 
 this thing is settled." 
 
 "We have gone too far to stop now," said 
 Ellis, "particularly so, as a quarrel and lawsuit 
 will be certain to follow ; and for both of these 
 I have an instinctive horror. I've thought about 
 the matter a great deal, and, in a choice of evils, 
 I think the preference lies on the side I am 
 taking." 
 
 The friend looked upon the ground where they 
 were standing, and, pointing with his finger, 
 said,
 
 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 25 
 
 " Do you see that immense burdock ? " 
 
 "Yes," replied Ellis. 
 
 "It was once no larger than this diminutive 
 weed which I pull up with two fingers." The 
 friend stooped, and drew easily from the 
 ground a small plant less than four inches 
 high. "Now," he added, "try with all your 
 strength, and you cannot displace the other. 
 Nay, its strongly embedded roots would resist 
 our united force. Only by pickaxe or spade 
 can it be destroyed. Just so will it be with 
 this unsettled dispute. Take it now, and the 
 wrong may easily be eradicated ; but let the 
 wrong go on strengthening and increasing, and 
 you will find it an enemy almost impossible to 
 destroy." 
 
 Mr. Ellis looked sober. He saw the force of 
 his friend's illustration. Still he shrank from 
 the issue presented. His soul abhorred strife. 
 
 "I would do almost anything for peace," he 
 said, despondingly. 
 
 " We cannot always have peace on easy terms. 
 Too often it can be secured only at the price of 
 war; and it is better to accept of war when
 
 26 NOT ANYTHING FOE PEACE. 
 
 our enemy is weak, and we have the best posi 
 tion, than to wait until the situations are re 
 versed. One thing is certain and the sooner 
 you make up your mind to accept and act upon 
 the necessity the better you cannot escape a 
 war." 
 
 " It is a cruel necessity a wicked necessity," 
 said Mr. Ellis, much disturbed. 
 
 " I grant you that it is. But there being no 
 escape, act with courage and promptness. Be 
 a strong, brave man, intrenching yourself be 
 hind a just cause, asking nothing but right, and 
 yielding to no encroachments from wrong." 
 
 " What would you advise ? What step should 
 I take?" asked Mr. Ellis, in a half-undeteruii- 
 nate manner. 
 
 " Stop this work at once, and refuse to ad 
 vance an inch until the spirit of your original 
 contract is observed on the other side. The 
 dam cannot be finished without your consent. 
 Wing and Wheeler may go on with their mills 
 if they please, but if the dam remains incom 
 plete, their works are useless." 
 
 " I have already expended two thousand dol-
 
 NOT ANYTHING FOE PEACE. 27 
 
 lars," said Mr. Ellis. " Must that all remain a 
 dead loss ? I can't afford it ! My future pros- 
 )erity depends on the completion of this mill." 
 Your future prosperity, say rather, depends 
 on the present settlement of this disagreement 
 with Wing," returned the other. 
 
 " What great harm can he do me, after all?" 
 urged Mr. Ellis. "Isn't the dispute one about 
 imaginary rights and privileges more than about 
 real ones? I shall get all the water I want 
 from my side of the dam. Suppose Wing and 
 Wheeler do use a larger quantity? What of 
 that, so I get enough?" 
 
 " A great deal of that, if it is used in a deter 
 mined violation of a contract between the par 
 ties ; for then, a wrong to justice is done, and 
 an evil-doer is encouraged to trespass on his 
 neighbor." 
 
 " But suppose I am willing to accept the tres 
 pass, in order to avoid a quarrel? What then?" 
 
 "Two evils will follow. The wrong-doer, 
 thus encouraged to wrong by the benefit re 
 ceived, as the robber is encouraged on receipt 
 of plunder, will not hesitate at additional
 
 28 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 
 
 wrong in your case, nor fail to regard success as 
 a motive for trespass on others. As a brave, 
 true man, Mr. Ellis, your duty is plain. Secu 
 rity to yourself, and loyalty to justice, demand 
 all the sacrifice of feeling this contest with 
 Wing may require. Let him comprehend, so 
 clearly that he will never fall into the mistake 
 again, that you mean right towards others, and 
 will exact right towards yourself. Suspend all 
 your operations at once, and give him notice iu 
 writing that you will neither lay a stone nor strike 
 a hammer until his arrangement with Wheeler, 
 in violation of the original compact, be set aside." 
 
 " That he'll never do ! " replied Mr. Ellis. " I 
 might as well give up for good and all aban 
 doning everything." 
 
 "A great deal better abandon everything in 
 its present condition, than advance a step, if 
 such is the man you have to deal with," said the 
 friend ; " for, rely upon it, ho will not let one 
 over whom an advantage is so easily gained 
 pass free from injury in tho future. He will 
 prey on you all the while." 
 
 " How that is possible, is beyond my ability
 
 NOT ANYTHING FOE PEACE. 29 
 
 to see," was answered ; " and I've studied the 
 case pretty thoroughly." 
 
 "As you will," returned the friend, whose 
 ardor now began to cool. "But, my word' for 
 it, if you don't settle this affair now, you'll only 
 repent it once in your life, and that will be a 
 perpetual repentance." 
 
 After this conversation, Mr. Ellis passed a 
 good many days of sober thought. Reason ad 
 monished him that his friend was right; but 
 the old cry arose in his spirit, "Anything for 
 peace ! " and he shrank from the impending 
 strife. He was the more ready to shrink after 
 a brief interview with the Scotchman, for he 
 found him sternly resolved to advance in the 
 way he was going. An intimation by Mr. Ellis 
 that he might suspend operations entirely on his 
 side of the dam if Wing did not recede from 
 his position was met by such violence of lan 
 guage, and in such a fierce and threatening 
 spirit, that the peace-loving man was really 
 frightened. He saw that in any contention 
 which might arise he would have a desperate 
 and vindictive antagonist one who would not
 
 30 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 
 
 scruple at any means of annoyance and injury; 
 and he was not brave enough to throw down the 
 gauntlet, and enter the arena of battle. 
 
 In a conversation which passed between Wing 
 and Wheeler, immediately subsequent to this 
 stormy interview, the Scotchman said, cool- 
 
 iy>- 
 
 " I know my man. You can frighten him as 
 easily as you can frighten a hare." 
 
 "O, bluffs the game with men of his kid 
 ney ! " answered Wheeler, coarsely. 
 
 "I said, when he broke that agreement about 
 the mill site, he'd repent of it before long," 
 remarked Wing, in a tone of evil triumph, 
 " and I'm always as good as my word. He 
 .shall repent. When a man once breaks with 
 me, we are two forever; and if he gets ahead 
 of me after that, why, he's welcome to all the 
 advantage." 
 
 " But suppose he were to do as he threatens 
 suspend work on his side of the dam ? " Wheel 
 er looked serious as he asked the question. 
 
 Wing shrugged his shoulders, but an 
 swered,
 
 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 31 
 
 "No fear of that." 
 
 "It would block our game," said Wheeler. 
 
 " Yes ; without the dam our mills would be 
 worthless. But you may set your heart at rest 
 on that score. Ellis will go on with the work. 
 He's terribly afraid of law ; and the moment he 
 withdraws his men, I will have him served with 
 a writ to answer for a violation of the con 
 tract." 
 
 " In case he stands a suit, the chances are all 
 in his favor," remarked Wheeler. 
 
 "Perhaps they are; but law is uncertain. 
 Besides, I have a -lawyer who knows all the ins 
 and outs, all the quirks and turns of the court 
 room ; a man who can bully and brag on the 
 outside, as well as work silently and in the dark. 
 I'll trust my case with him, on a good contingent 
 fee." 
 
 "And lose it," said Wheeler. "Take my 
 advice, and don't get your case in the hands 
 of a jury ; for twelve fair men will say that 
 Ellis is right, and you are wrong." 
 
 " Twelve fair men might do so ; but did you 
 ever hear of twelve clear-headed, honest, fair-
 
 32 NOT ANYTHING FOE PEACE. 
 
 dealing men being on a jury at the same time? 
 Even on a jury trial I might win. Still, I 
 have no idea of letting the case go into court. 
 Should Ellis get balky and unmanageable, I'll 
 submit to an arbitration. If this is kept off 
 until we get our mills well advanced, the vague 
 ness of the contract, and the largeness of the 
 interests involved on our side, will naturally 
 lead the arbitrators to the conclusion that I 
 clearly understood the existence of a right to 
 put up two mills on my property. It will be 
 argued on my side that no possible harm can 
 inure to Ellis by a use of the water, as power, 
 that flows from my wheel." 
 
 "And argued on his," returned Wheeler, 
 "that in building a flooring-mill on this side, 
 his business must suffer loss." 
 
 "Yes, that ground will undoubtedly be taken, 
 and with a strong show of reason. But I have 
 faith in being able to keep beyond the law's in 
 terference. Ellis is a timid, peace-loving man, 
 and I shall give him a threatening or stormy 
 side whenever we meet, just as his mood may 
 happen to require. One thing is certain, I am
 
 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 33 
 
 not going to back clown unless under constrai c 
 of law. When I once take a course, nothinsr 
 
 7 O 
 
 but an impassable barrier can stop me. And I 
 have, in this thing, taken my course." 
 
 Thus the matter stood on Archibald Wind's 
 
 O 
 
 side. He knew that he was in the wrong and 
 an aggressor, but meant to hold his position 
 by all available means, fair or foul. For a man 
 like Ellis, he was a hard antagonist; yet this 
 made resistance to wrong, at the very outset, 
 the more imperative. In all such cases, the first 
 conflict of forces is best; for then it almost 
 always happens that right is a nearer match for 
 wrong than at any time afterwards, and able to 
 conquer at the lightest cost. 
 
 Steadily, day by day, the works on each side 
 of the stream went on, and the builders, stimu 
 lated by Wing, carried on the dam rapidly 
 towards completion. Ellis was troubled with 
 many forebodings of evil. He felt that he was 
 in the hands of two unscrupulous men, who not 
 only had the power, but the will, to do him 
 wrong; and yet he did not possess the cour 
 age to accept at once the struggle which was 
 3
 
 34 NOT ANYTHING FOE PEACE. 
 
 coming, and conquer a peace ere heavier inter 
 ests were involved and larger disasters inevita 
 ble. "Anything for peace!" was still his cry, 
 when the question of resistance forced itself 
 upon his consideration. 
 
 At last the dam was completed, and the mills 
 cm both sides ready to go into operation. By 
 this time the feeling of antagonism between Mr. 
 Ellis and the Scotchman had become so strong 
 that they held no intercourse. If they happened 
 to meet, they simply recognised each other with 
 a distant nod. For months Mr. Ellis had re 
 frained from going over to his neighbor's side 
 of the falls, and knew nothing, by personal 
 inspection, of the interior arrangement and 
 capacity of "Wheeler's merchant and grist mill. 
 But kind and officious friends kept him posted. 
 One of these came to him soon after the dam 
 and Humes were completed, and said, 
 
 "I heard something 3 r esterday that I think 
 you should know." 
 
 "What is it?" asked Mr. Ellis. 
 
 "It came from one of Wing's millwrights." 
 
 "Ah! Well, what is it?"
 
 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 35 
 
 "It must be taken, of course, with some 
 grains of allowance ; but I shouldn't at all 
 wonder if it were true. Wing is just the man 
 for such a trick." 
 
 " What trick ? Speak out plainly ! " urged 
 Mr. Ellis. 
 
 " He says that Wing's head-gates are at least 
 fourteen inches lower than yours." 
 
 "No no! He wouldn't dare to do such a 
 thing ! " said Mr. Ellis, at once excited. 
 
 "As to his daring," replied the friend, "he 
 will dare anything to secure an advantage. If 
 it is true, and you'd better see to it at once, 
 it will enable him to reduce your head of water 
 in dry seasons just that number of inches, to 
 your injury and his gain." 
 
 "I will see to it, and that immediately," was 
 the resolve of Mr. Ellis, who was considerably 
 excited by this grave intimation. But the ques 
 tion as to the means of ascertaining whether the 
 thing alleged were true or not caused a long 
 and unsatisfactory debate. Wing would, of 
 course, meet the accusation with an indignant 
 denial. Only by a survey, skilfully conducted,
 
 36 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 
 
 was the exact level of the two openings for head- 
 gates to be determined ; and as this would 
 involve an open rupture between the high con 
 tending parties, the mind of Ellis again fell into 
 doubt, and became embarrassed by hesitation. 
 Seriously did he regret his failure to meet the 
 difficulty at an earlier period, and have it pressed 
 to a settlement when the decision could have 
 been met and accepted with but slight injury on 
 either side. Now, as nearly everything he had 
 in the world was invested in his mill improve 
 ment, he was anxious to get to work, and realize 
 some of the advantages for which he had been 
 waiting, spending, and laboring. To enter, at 
 this point, on a quarrel, with its excitements, 
 delays, and unknown consequences, was an 
 alternative which he could not accept. And 
 so, trusting that all would come out right, Mr. 
 Ellis left his neighbor to the enjoyment of any 
 advantage he might hold, and turned his whole 
 attention to his mill. 
 
 Ellis's mill contained three pairs of mill-stones. 
 One of these pairs was designed for the grinding 
 of grists ; the other for the manufacture of flour,
 
 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 37 
 
 to be sent to market and sold as merchandise. 
 It was in the calculation of Mr. Ellis to keep two 
 pairs of mill-stones running for about two thirds 
 of the year in the manufacture of flour for sale, 
 and a single pair running for the same pur 
 pose during one third of the year, or while the 
 springs were low in summer time. The stones' 
 for grinding grist were to be at all times ready 
 for use. 
 
 Two things gave Mr. Ellis concern. He 
 feared lest, in consequence of his neighbor's 
 shameless violation of their agreement, he might 
 have a short supply of water during half the 
 year, instead of one third ; and he also feared 
 so serious a diversion of business from his grist- 
 grinding department, in favor of Wheeler's mill, 
 as to materially impair the income he had rea 
 sonably calculated on receiving. 
 
 Mr. Ellis started his mill early in the month 
 of April, some weeks before either Wing or 
 Wheeler were ready. He had plenty of water, 
 and all things worked to a charm. Farmers 
 brought their grain to sell or to be ground for 
 their own use, and the great mill-wheel kept
 
 38 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 
 
 ever in motion, from dawn until the shadows 
 fell. 
 
 By the first of May Wheeler's mill was ready, 
 and then a change was apparent. One morning 
 the water fell sensibly in Ellis's fore-bay or flume, 
 and there followed, in consequence, a diminished 
 power in all of his machinery. 
 
 " What does this mean ? " was the very natural 
 query of his miller, whose practised ear recog 
 nized the feebler motion of his wheels ; and he 
 went to look at the head of water. Ellis fol 
 lowed him. 
 
 " The water has fallen at least nine inches," 
 said the miller, as he glanced down into the 
 fore-bay. 
 
 " There must be a leak in the dam," replied 
 Ellis, looking away to where the newly-com 
 pleted barrier stretched from shore to shore. 
 
 "Yonder is the leak ! " and the miller pointed 
 lower down the stream. The great water-wheel 
 of the new mill was in motion, glistening in the 
 sunbeams. 
 
 The face of Mr. Ellis grew clouded. His 
 heart sank with a feeling of dismay, for he com-
 
 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 39 
 
 prcheuded clearly the evil which had befallen 
 him. 
 
 "I was afraid of this." He tried to speak 
 calmly, but his voice was disturbed. 
 
 " Depend upon it," said the miller, " they have 
 done what the millwright affirmed set their 
 head-gates lower than ours." 
 
 "It must be so." Ellis stood like one half 
 stupefied. 
 
 "I am sure of it. See ! the water is still fall 
 ing. I shall have to stop one pair of stones." 
 Only two pairs were running. 
 
 And the miller went in to change the gearing, 
 so as to detach a pair of the mill-stones. This 
 being done, the water-wheel regained its usual 
 velocity. For a long time Mr. Ellis stood in 
 deep thought, or walked up and down the floor 
 of his mill, without speaking further to any one; 
 then, calling a lad, he said, 
 
 " Frank, I want you to go over to the other 
 side, and do an errand for me." 
 
 The boy was all attention. 
 
 " Does Mr. Wheeler know that you are work 
 ing for me ? "
 
 40 NOT ANYTHING FOE PEACE. 
 
 Frank answered in the negative. 
 
 " I wish to find out how many pairs of burrs 
 he is now running. Cross over at Jackson's 
 foot-bridge, down the stream, and come up on 
 the other side. Look in at the mill, and see 
 what you can see, then come back and report; 
 but don't open your lips on the subject of your 
 errand to a living soul." 
 
 The lad went off with a bound. In half an 
 hour he returned, reporting that Wheeler " had 
 on three pairs of burrs." At this time the head 
 of water was so low on the side of Mr. Ellis 
 that only a single pair could be set in vigorous 
 motion. 
 
 " Anything for peace " would not answer now. 
 This issue must be met, and if Wing and Wheeler 
 did not yield to right and justice, war was in 
 evitable. So, by the hand of a messenger, word 
 was sent across the river, giving information as 
 to the effect of starting Wheeler's mill on the 
 head of water, and assuming that Wing had 
 made his opening into the dam at a lower level 
 than Ellis, and in plain violation of the contract. 
 To this an insulting answer was returned, which
 
 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 41 
 
 iroused all the latent fire in Ellis's bosom. He 
 saw now that nothing was left for him but to 
 accept a heavy loss, or to meet wrong in a stern 
 conflict. For a little while he cast about for a 
 way of peaceful escape, but none offering, he 
 braced himself for a contest, resolved to battle 
 for his rights to the end. Such men, when the 
 inevitable strife is begun, are rarely conquered. 
 The justice of their cause gives confidence, and a 
 sense of outrage nerves them with endurance and 
 vigor. No half-way measures, no patched-up 
 compromises, will suit them. The battle must 
 be fought until right is fully triumphant. 
 
 A second messenger was despatched, and warn 
 ing given, that unless a survey of the dam were 
 at once made, by consent of both parties, so as 
 to get the actual level of the two head-gates, he 
 would apply for an injunction to restrain both 
 Wheeler and Wing from taking any water from 
 the dam until a survey was ordered by the 
 court. To this, answer was returned in these 
 words : 
 
 " Tell Ellis to go ahead ; two can play at the 
 game of injunction as well as one."
 
 42 NOT ANYTHING FOB PEACE. 
 
 Before the lapse 'of three weeks, injunction* 
 had issued against both parties, and the water 
 about which they were in dispute went foaming 
 over the dam, while the mill-wheels basked idly 
 in the sun. The farmers brought their grain 
 from far and near, but could neither sell it nor 
 get it ground. 
 
 The lawyer whom Ellis had engaged made 
 every effort to procure an immediate order for a 
 survey of the dam ; but the counsel on the other 
 side interposed difficulties and technical objec 
 tions in order to make delays. So the mills stood 
 idle week after week, and the angry owners 
 chafed in spirit against each other, meditating 
 punishment or revenge. 
 
 After two months' loss of time, and conse 
 quent injury to both parties, a survey was 
 ordered. To the astonishment of Mr. Ellis, it 
 was declared in the surveyor's report that the 
 head-gates ou each side of the dam were on ex 
 actly the same level. The injunctions w T ere, in 
 consequence, dismissed. 
 
 An unjust legal decision, operating to a man's 
 serious injury, is very apt to stir any bad blood
 
 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 43 
 
 that may happen to be in his heart. The sense 
 of outrage is increased by a sense of weakness. 
 While submission to the decree is felt as a stern 
 necessity, the mind casts about for some means 
 of gaining power over the adversary at whose 
 instance the wrong has been suffered. Ellis was 
 in this state, but with no clearly-seen method of 
 reaction upon his neighbor across the falls, when 
 a legal notice was served requiring him to an 
 swer for damages sustained by both Wheeler 
 and Wing in consequence of the injunction which 
 he had caused to be served. Hurrying to his 
 lawyer, he laid the summons before that per 
 sonage. 
 
 The lawyer looked serious, remarking, " I was 
 afraid of this." 
 
 " He can't get damages ! " Alarm was on the 
 countenance of Mr. Ellis. 
 
 " You did not sustain the allegation on which 
 the injunction was based." 
 
 "It is true, nevertheless ! " Mr. Ellis was ex 
 cited and indignant. 
 
 " We do not doubt that. Still the surveyor's 
 report was against us."
 
 44 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 
 
 " Do you know what I think about that ? " said 
 Ellis. 
 
 " What do you think about it ? " 
 
 " The surveyor was feed by Wing. A hundred 
 dollars would buy him, body and soul." 
 
 "Be careful when and where you say this," 
 suggested the prudent lawyer. 
 
 " I will declare it on the house-top ! " asserted 
 Mr. Ellis. 
 
 " Don't. It may bring you into trouble with 
 the surveyor." 
 
 "How?" 
 
 " In a suit for slander." 
 
 " That for a slander suit ! " and Ellis snapped 
 his thumb and finger sharply. 
 
 " One trouble at a time. Let us defend the 
 case with Wing and Wheeler, before we get 
 involved with Justin, the surveyor," said the 
 lawyer. 
 
 " But you don't really apprehend danger from 
 this move on the enemy's side ? " 
 
 "As remarked just now, you did not show 
 cause for an injunction. Security, as you are 
 aware, was required to cover unjust damages to
 
 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 45 
 
 Wing, should they occur. As the court recog 
 nizes no adequate cause for the injunction, hav 
 ing dissolved it, an award of damages will most 
 probably lie against you. I see only one way in 
 which you may be saved." 
 
 "What is that?" 
 
 " A counter-suit for damages against Wing, as 
 enjoiner in your case, may lead him to abandon 
 the action now instituted." 
 
 " Then order the suit at once," said Ellis. 
 "Two can play at this game also." 
 
 And it was done. The mills went on grind 
 ing and spinning, and the suits went on also, 
 taking more thought than the mills, and wasting 
 as much money as the mills earned. 
 
 "Ah, if this had been settled in the begin 
 ning," sighed Ellis, almost daily, amid the 
 anxiety that weighed upon his spirits, " what a 
 world of trouble would have been saved ! I 
 wanted peace ; I would have given anything for 
 peace ; and my love of peace has betrayed me 
 into a labyrinth of evil, from which a safe extri 
 cation is now impossible." 
 
 In the midst of all this, Ellis could run, as the
 
 46 NOT ANYTHING FOE PEACE. 
 
 dry season had commenced, only a single pair 
 of mill-stones, while Wing had water enough for 
 his factory, and Wheeler never kept less than 
 two pairs of stones in motion. The amount of 
 grinding done by Ellis was so small, that the 
 working of his mill had proved a loss, instead of 
 a gain. 
 
 At the next term of court, both cases came on, 
 and Ellis lost them both. The decisions were 
 based on the surveyor's report, and awarded five 
 hundred dollars damages to Wing and Wheeler 
 for loss of profit on their two establishments 
 during the period covered by the injunction. 
 
 "Take an appeal," said Ellis to his lawyer, 
 when the decision against him was made. "I 
 will fight them to the death. In for a penny, 
 in for a pound. They shall never handle one 
 dollar of my money. I'll spend every farthing 
 I possess in law rather than let it go into their 
 hands." 
 
 And an appeal was taken. 
 
 The scanty supply of water which Mr. Ellis 
 could get from the dam was only sufficient, 
 through the months of July and August, to
 
 NOT ANYTHING FOE PEACE. 47 
 
 enable him to run a single pair of mill-stones ; 
 and so he was compelled to abandon what had 
 been looked to as the most profitable part of 
 the business, merchant-milling, as it was called, 
 or the manufacture of flour for sale in barrels, 
 and limit himself to the grinding of corn, rye, 
 and wheat for the neighboring farmers. It so 
 happened that his mill was better situated for 
 this kind of business than Wheeler's, being on 
 the side of the stream on which ran the public 
 road connecting with the most thickly settled 
 farming portions of the country. The wagon 
 crossing was nearly a mile below, so that 
 Wheeler's mill could not be reached from that 
 side except by a long journey of two miles 
 equal to four miles going and returning. 
 
 It availed little for Wheeler, then, that he 
 sent handbills all through the country, soliciting 
 patronage for his mill, and offering to grind the 
 farmers' grists for a lighter toll than was exacted 
 by his neighbor. The four additional miles, 
 going and coming, that the farmers would have 
 to drive, barred them from accepting his tempting 
 offers ; and he had to content himself with the
 
 48 NOT ANYTHING FOE PEACE. 
 
 small custom that naturally fell to his location. 
 He was not content with this, however. Having 
 set out with the " all-for-myself " principle of 
 action, he could not rest in the large advantage 
 already gained, unjustly, over Mr. Ellis, but 
 resolved to leave no means untried for ruining 
 him altogether for the sake of benefiting him 
 self. 
 
 An evil purpose stops at the employment of 
 no means that offers a successful result. Wheeler 
 gave himself earnestly to the work of setting 
 aside, by some means, the disadvantage under 
 which he was laboring in consequence of the 
 better location of his neighbor's mill. As he 
 lay pondering the subject one night, the desired 
 suggestion came. He did not sleep much after 
 wards, but kept awake* until nearly morning, 
 looking at the suggestion on all sides, and plan 
 ning for its safe execution. 
 
 Early on the next day Wheeler saddled his 
 horse and rode to a neighboring town. Stop 
 ping at a small office, on the window of which a 
 sign bore the name of Paul Justin, he dismounted 
 and entered. A short, stout man, with a salloAV
 
 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 49 
 
 face, and a head covered with a mop of stiff, iron- 
 gray hair, met him within the door. They 
 joined hands, without so much as saying, " Good 
 morning," and each looked at the other with a 
 penetrating inquiry. As two conscious rogues 
 might scan each other, they stood face to face 
 for several moments. 
 
 "Well?" said Justin, first breaking silence. 
 
 "I want to talk with you." The tone in which 
 Wheeler spoke showed that something of more 
 than common interest was on his mind. 
 
 " Sit down. I am at your service." And the 
 surveyor pointed to a chair. 
 
 Wheeler sat down. 
 
 " Anything in which I can help you ? " Justin 
 was now smiling and courteous. 
 
 " The thing does not concern me alone. It is 
 one in which you and hundreds of others are 
 interested. For a whole range of three miles, 
 there is only one road and bridge leading across 
 Cypress Creek. The consequence is, that many 
 farmers have to drive a long distance out of their 
 way in getting to a point scarcely half a mile in 
 a direct line." 
 4
 
 50 NOT ANYTHING FOE PEACE. 
 
 "And so find it difficult to reach your mill, 
 ha? Is that it?" And Justin looked shrewdly 
 at the miller, who shrugged his shoulders, and 
 replied, 
 
 " Of course, I feel the want of another road 
 and bridge equally with my neighbors." 
 
 " You are the first one that I have heard speak 
 of it," remarked Justin, seeming to relapse into 
 himself, and putting on a sober countenance. 
 
 "O, dear ! bless your soul ! I've heard twenty 
 rnen talking about it during the past week. 
 Somebody must move first in the matter, and 
 I promised several to open the ball." 
 
 "At what point is it designed to cross the 
 creek?" asked the surveyor. 
 
 " I've discussed that with quite a number, and 
 all seem to agree upon one location." 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 "About an eighth of a mile below our dam. 
 The hills come down with a gentle grade just 
 at that point, and a road might be cut at a very 
 small expense. The stream is narrow, with 
 close, high banks, and can be easily bridged. 
 All agree upon this."
 
 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 51 
 
 " Ah, Wheeler ! You're a shrewd dog ! " said 
 Justin, slapping his visitor on the shoulder. 
 " Can't deceive me. I'm too old a fox. All 
 this simply means grist to your mill." 
 
 " That's ungenerous," retorted Wheeler, try 
 ing to put on an offended air ; but the veil was 
 altogether too transparent, as he was himself 
 conscious. 
 
 "It won't do, my boy," said Justin, laughing 
 away down in his throat with an unmusical 
 chuckle. " I understand it all ; so you may as 
 well talk out plainly first as last. You want 
 the road and bridge?" 
 
 " Of course I do. What is good for the public 
 is good for me also." 
 
 "Say, rather, that what is good for you is 
 good for the public, and then we shall have it 
 rightly expressed." 
 
 " Have it your own way," retorted Wheeler, 
 with a forced laugh, yet with repressed impa 
 tience, like one annoyed. " So that we can get 
 the new road opened, we'll not chaffer as to who 
 will receive the largest benefit. Will you move 
 in this thing ? "
 
 52 NOT ANYTHING FOE PEACE. 
 
 " Me ! " with pretended surprise. 
 
 "Yes, you." 
 
 " What interest have I in the matter ? " 
 
 " The common interest of every man in public 
 improvements." 
 
 "For private benefit, ha? 'Twill not do, 
 friend Wheeler. So get down from your high 
 position, and stand beside me here, on the 
 ground level. You want this road for your 
 own benefit, and want my assistance in getting 
 a decree from the County Court. Talk it out, 
 and then we shall understand each other." 
 
 "Have it so, then. Anything to get the 
 road," said Wheeler. 
 
 " What good will I gain ? You see we are on 
 a level now. You want the new road and bridge 
 for grist to your mill. All right haven't a 
 word of objection to urge. Let every man get 
 all the advantage he can in this world. That's 
 my way. Now, I don't care three pins whether 
 the road is opened or not that is, so far as my 
 interests are concerned. You understand. If, 
 then, I am to move on this track, just show me 
 whither it leads. Where will I come out?"
 
 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 53 
 
 "Property will rise along the road." 
 
 " Not so sure of that ; and besides, I don't 
 own a foot of land in. the neighborhood of Cy 
 press Creek." 
 
 " You can buy in anticipation." 
 
 The surveyor shook his head. 
 
 "There's a tract of fifty acres, belonging to 
 Tompkins. He wants to sell told me so yes 
 terday. The road and bridge will add from tea 
 to twenty dollars an acre to its value. Now, if 
 I was dead sure the court would order the road 
 to be opened, I'd take this land, and make a 
 good thing of it." 
 
 Justin did not respond in words, but, with a 
 look, invited the miller to go on. 
 
 " You might have an interest in the purchase," 
 said Wheeler. 
 
 The surveyor shook his head, coldly remark 
 ing that he had no money to invest. Wheeler 
 dropped his eyes, and pondered certain things 
 that were in his mind, looking at them from all 
 points of view. 
 
 "It won't do," he said, speaking slowly, "for 
 me to stand forward in this matter. That Ellis
 
 54 NOT ANYTHING FOE PEACE. 
 
 would be sure to get up a counter movement, on 
 the plea that I was trying to injure him and bene 
 fit myself; and the allegation would look plausi 
 ble. But if you took the lead, no one would 
 dare charge an interested motive. Now, I'll tell 
 you, at a word, what I am prepared to do." 
 
 Well. Say on." 
 
 The two men were seated. Justin leaned 
 back composedly in his chair, resting his elbows 
 on the two arms, and bringing together his open 
 hands, with the wide-spread fingers and thumbs 
 each against its fellow. He was all attention, 
 yet with a well-assumed air of indifference. 
 
 "Do you think, if the application were man 
 aged rightly, the court would order the improve 
 ment?" 
 
 " If it were managed rightly, as you intimate, 
 yes." 
 
 " To the point ; and I am free to say, that if 
 you can't manage it, no one in the county need 
 try. So you have my estimate of your influ 
 ence, Mr. Justin." 
 
 "Thank you for your good opinion," said the 
 surveyor, with a bow.
 
 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 55 
 
 "I'll make Tompkins an offer for his fifty 
 acres to-morrow." 
 
 The surveyor nodded. 
 
 "He'll take me up." 
 
 "Likely." 
 
 " Ten acres shall be yours on the day the road 
 is ordered to be surveyed." 
 
 " Your hand to that ; " and Justin extended his 
 open palm. 
 
 " My hand to that ; " and the bargain was 
 ratified. 
 
 " You will have to proceed with great caution," 
 said Wheeler. " The moment Ellis gets wind of 
 the movement, there'll be a strong opposition." 
 
 "Of course. So far as he is concerned, it 
 will be a matter of life and death. After the 
 new road is opened, I wouldn't give much for 
 his mill property." 
 
 A gleam of evil triumph lighted up the miller's 
 face, as he said, 
 
 " The effect on him won't trouble me." 
 
 "Ellis is not a bad man," remarked Justin, 
 with a touch of sympathy in his voice. 
 
 "No, he is not a devil incarnate; but he's
 
 56 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 
 
 done his best to injure me, and I'm bound to 
 pay him off with double compound interest. If 
 there is one man alive against whom I owe a 
 deeper grudge than another, it is Tom Ellis." 
 
 "You've hurt him already worse than he's 
 hurt you." 
 
 " He hasn't hurt me at all to speak of," replied 
 Wheeler, with a self-satisfied air. "I'm all 
 right. Give me the new road and bridge, 
 and I'll not regard him as in the neighborhood. 
 The buzzing of a fly will annoy me more than 
 the clatter of his mill wheels." 
 
 " You will certainly hold him at a great disad 
 vantage." 
 
 As Justin said this, he turned his head with 
 a quick movement, and listened. 
 
 " Is there any one in the back office ? " whis 
 pered the miller, leaning towards Mr. Justin, 
 with a shade of alarm on his face. 
 
 The two men sat very still for several sec 
 onds. Then Justin got up quietly, and, step 
 ping to a door that led into a small room, 
 pushed it open. 
 
 "There is no one," ho said, in a tone of relief.
 
 NOT ANYTHING FOE PEACE. 57 
 
 The two men looked at each other with sobered 
 faces. 
 
 "I was certain that I heard a sound in that 
 room," said Wheeler. 
 
 " Sounds are often very deceptive," answered 
 the surveyor. "It came from the street, no 
 doubt." 
 
 After that the men drew closer together, and 
 talked in a very low tone. Justin accepted the 
 miller's offer of ten acres in the lot of ground to 
 be bought from Tompkius, and promised to set 
 himself to work immediately. And he was as 
 good as his word. 
 
 " How is the new road going to affect you ? % 
 asked a farmer, who had come to Ellis's mill. 
 This was about three weeks subsequent to the 
 interview between Justin and Wheeler, hereto 
 fore mentioned. 
 
 "What road?" said the miller, looking curi 
 ously at his questioner. 
 
 "The new road which is to cross Cypress 
 Creek, just above Harvey Tompkius's." 
 
 What I " The miller's voice cut the air like 
 a whiplash.
 
 58 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 
 
 "The new road and bridge near Harvey 
 Tompkins's." 
 
 " Who said there was to be a new road ? " de 
 manded Ellis, a slight paleness visible on his 
 face. 
 
 " Is it possible that you haven't heard of it ! " 
 said the farmer, in surprise. "I signed the 
 petition several weeks ago, and am almost sure 
 that I saw your name on the paper." 
 
 " My name ! " 
 
 "I couldn't be positive. But such is my im 
 pression. I thought it a little curious, seeing 
 that a new road would be more apt to feed your 
 neighbor's mill than yours." 
 
 "I've never heard of such a petition, much 
 less signed it," said Mr. Ellis, sitting down, 
 from a sense of weakness, on a meal-bag. He 
 felt that an evil power which had been steadily 
 advancing upon him had made another approach, 
 and that he was growing weaker for resistance 
 instead of stronger. 
 
 "Who had the petition when you signed it?" 
 asked the miller, after the first confusion of his 
 thoughts had passed.
 
 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 59 
 
 " It was in the hands of Paul Justin." 
 
 " Had it many signatures ? " 
 
 "Yes. Most of the people in my neighbor 
 hood put down their names. We think the 
 road will be an advantage." 
 
 "Has the court made a decree in the case?" 
 
 " Yes. It was given on last Monday ; and 
 the county commissioners have ordered a sur 
 vey." 
 
 " And I never knew a word of it ! " said the 
 miller, now greatly disturbed. "There's some 
 wrong and underhand work in this business." 
 
 "I don't know about that. Why should there 
 be ? As far as I saw, everything was open and 
 above-board," remarked the farmer, innocently. 
 "It's not an unusual thing to make a new 
 road." 
 
 Ellis made no reply to this remark. He felt 
 a stunned sensation. Already the contest be 
 tween him and his enemies across the dam had 
 left him weak, crippled, and disheartened. He 
 had not only expended a heavy sum in legal 
 fees, and suffered by an award of damages 
 against himself, but found his head of water
 
 60 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 
 
 so much reduced that only a single pair of 
 mill-stones could be kept steadily in motion, 
 while his neighbors on the other side maintained 
 both factory and flouring-mill in full operation 
 all the while. His only advantage, up to this 
 time, had been the farmers' custom, which his 
 location on the best side of the stream had se 
 cured. But a new road and bridge only a few 
 hundred yards below would effectually remove 
 this advantage, an.d then he would be at the 
 mercy of his opponents. 
 
 A feeling of desperation took hold of Mr. 
 Ellis's mind, for he saw only ruin before him. 
 After the farmer had driven away with his bags 
 of meal, he started out to learn all the truth 
 about this new road. He did not have to go 
 very far to obtain the information desired ; for, 
 at the point on the creek which had been selected 
 for crossing, he found Justin, with two other 
 men appointed by the county commissioners, en 
 gaged in making a survey, and fixing the exact 
 points of location for the bridge. Tompkins 
 was with them, but in no satisfied mood; for, 
 just three weeks before, he had sold to Adam
 
 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 61 
 
 Wheeler fifty acres of ground, lying along the 
 creek, on both sides, and through this very 
 ground the surveyor had decided to run the 
 new county road. Too late he had discovered 
 his error in selling. The laud was worth a 
 thousand dollars more than on the day he passed 
 the title to another. 
 
 "Who bought the land?" asked Mr. Ellis, as 
 he and Tompkins drew apart from the men en 
 gaged in running lines and taking altitudes and 
 distances. 
 
 " Wheeler," was answered. 
 
 " My ! " Ellis struck his hands together, as 
 he gave this ejaculation, in a surprised tone. 
 
 " Somehow or other things don't look right," 
 said Tompkins. " Why should he come to me 
 just when he did, and make an offer for my 
 land?" 
 
 " Simply," replied the miller, " because he 
 knew about the project for opening a road. 
 In fact, he's an underhand mover in the whole 
 business. This road is for his benefit. No 
 one else, in my opinion, cares a farthing about 
 it."
 
 62 NOT ANYTHING FOE PEACE. 
 
 "It will be bad for you," said Tompldns. 
 
 "It will ruin me," answered the miller, show 
 ing strong excitement. 
 
 "Can't you stop it?" 
 
 " I'm afraid not. It's too late. A decree from 
 the court has been obtained." 
 
 "Have you consulted a lawyer?" 
 
 "Not yet. It's scarcely an hour since the 
 news reached me." 
 
 "Take my advice, and stir this whole matter 
 to the bottom. There's trickery and underhand 
 work somewhere. Nobody asked me to sign a 
 petition. Why not? Nobody asked you to sign 
 a petition. Why not? Men who work in the 
 dark don't usually have the public good in view. 
 Wheeler is at the bottom of this thing, depend 
 on it. He was very fast to have all the papers 
 signed after bargaining for this land. Couldn't 
 wait a single day. I felt, then, that he must be 
 in possession of information touching the real 
 value of the land of which I was in igno 
 rance." 
 
 " All of which makes it clear that he is the 
 moving spirit in this business. I must see my
 
 NOT ANYTHING FOE PEACE. 63 
 
 lawyer immediately, and get him to dive down 
 to the bottom of affairs." 
 
 The legal adviser of Mr. Ellis had little com 
 fort to give. After hearing all that his client 
 had to say, he declared it as his belief that any 
 attempt to induce the court to alter its decree 
 would be fruitless* 
 
 "You can only argue," he said, "an assumed 
 diversion of business from your mill to Wheeler's, 
 and thence injury to yourself. But this will not 
 influence the court. If Wheeler is able to grind 
 cheaper than you, the court will say that here 
 is a reason for, instead of against, the road, as a 
 public benefit. You must adapt yourself to the 
 new circumstances. You must grind as cheaply 
 as Wheeler, and thus retain your business." 
 
 " The rates at which he grinds for the farmers 
 won't pay expenses," said Mr. Ellis. 
 
 "Then how can he afford to grind at such 
 prices ? " 
 
 "Don't you know? Haven't I explained it to 
 you over and over again? He keeps two pairs 
 of burrs going all the time on merchant-work, 
 while I have rarely head enough to run more
 
 64 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 
 
 than a single pair, and must stop that when a 
 grist is to be ground." 
 
 " O ! Ah ! Yes. I see now." And the law 
 yer shook his head and looked grave ; adding, 
 "There can be no question about the truth of 
 your allegation that Wing takes water from the 
 dam at a lower level than you do." 
 
 "None at all. The thing is self-evident. And 
 yet Justin, after making a survey by order of 
 the court, declared the levels to be the same. 
 What am I to do?" 
 
 The lawyer sat musing for some time. 
 
 "We might open the case again. Might try 
 him on a new issue?" 
 
 "And have costs and damages to pay as be 
 fore. There's no justice to be had in the 
 land. Cheats and scoundrels have it all their 
 own way ! " 
 
 Mr. Ellis was very much excited. 
 
 "Law is very uncertain," was coldly answered. 
 " No man is sure of his case until the decision is 
 made. I have argued precisely similar cases, 
 on opposite sides, and gained both ways. Law 
 and justice stood exactly in the same relation;
 
 NOT ANYTHING FOE PEACE. 65 
 
 but the jury gave me the cases. One of them 
 must have been decided unjustly." And the 
 lawyer shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " Then I am to be ruined totally," said the 
 miller, with much bitterness of manner, " ruined 
 under color of law ! Shall I submit ? Shall I 
 lie down and let wicked men trample me under 
 their feet? No, sir! I am a peace-loving 
 man ; but there is a point beyond which I will 
 not be driven." Ellis was becoming strongly 
 agitated. 
 
 "There was a time," said the lawyer, " when, 
 if you had demanded your rights, and stood up 
 boldly in their maintenance, you could have 
 secured them. A time when you had the power 
 to enforce justice. But you permitted these 
 men to intrench themselves in wrong, and secure 
 advantages over you, day by day, until they 
 have become masters of the position. They are 
 too strong for you, Mr. Ellis. Were I in your 
 place, I'd get rid of this mill property at any 
 sacrifice. Neither peace nor prosperity can at 
 tend you in its possession." 
 
 "And you have no better advice to give?" 
 5
 
 66 NOT ANYTHING FOE PEACE. 
 
 The miller spoke in a half-desponding, half-des 
 perate tone of voice. 
 
 " None," answered the lawyer. 
 
 " I will ijot take your advice," was the sternly 
 spoken reply. " If the law withholds justice, my 
 own strong arm shall wrest it from those who 
 seek to do me injury." 
 
 " Take care, Mr. Ellis," said the other, in a 
 warning voice. " When an individual sets up to 
 right himself against the law, he usually gets the 
 worst of it." 
 
 " I shall get nothing worse than what is sure 
 to come if I sit still, and let ruin close around 
 me," replied Ellis. "I've done these men no 
 wrong; but, instead, have submitted to wrong. 
 Not content with gaining large advantages, by 
 crippling my prosperity, they now seek to de 
 stroy me altogether. Shall I submit? Never, 
 sir ! Never ! If the law will not stand by me 
 as a just man in the community, will not save 
 me from the wrongs inflicted by evil men, then 
 I must fight my battle alone, and with such weap 
 ons as I may chance to possess." 
 
 "Again I must warn you," answered the law-
 
 NOT ANYTHING FOE PEACE. 67 
 
 yer. " Nothing but disaster can follow if you 
 seek to redress yourself. As I remarked just 
 now, there was a time when you had the power 
 as well as the right on your side ; a time when 
 you could have compelled these men to abide by 
 the spirit of your contract with Wing. But you 
 were afraid of trouble ; afraid of giving offence 
 and making enemies ; afraid of getting into 
 law ; and so let them gain one advantage over 
 you after another, until now you are powerless 
 in their hands. Get rid of this mill property on 
 any terms. That is my advice." 
 
 But the miller shook his head in a resolute 
 negative. Though apt to yield under pressure, 
 even when wrong encroached, growing out of a 
 natural love of peace, he had a strong sense of 
 justice and a large reserve of will. He was not 
 quick to put himself in the position of an antago 
 nist; but the position once assumed, no deeply 
 imbedded rock stood firmer. Pride, of which 
 he had. a large share, gave iron nerves to the 
 spirit of resistance. From the lawyer's he 
 walked home slowly, his eyes upon the ground, 
 and his mind searching about for a way of safe
 
 68 NOT ANYTHING FOE PEACE. 
 
 deliverance from his peril. Many suggestions 
 were offered ; but nearly all of so desperate a 
 character that he could not entertain them for a 
 moment. All the following night he lay awake, 
 pondering the means of self-protection. By 
 morning he had reached a conclusion. He 
 would stop his mill, throw a coffer-dam above 
 his head-gates, and proceed to lower the flume 
 two feet, thus securing the supply of water to 
 which he was fairly entitled. Before acting on 
 this determination he called to see his lawyer. 
 After listening to him, the lawyer shook his head 
 with a decided negative, saying, 
 
 " You can't do it." 
 
 "Why not? The land is my own. Can't I 
 dig a ditch in it if I choose?" said Ellis, im 
 patiently. He was fast losing his old self-poise. 
 
 " Something more than digging a ditch is in 
 volved in your purpose," replied the lawyer. 
 " Others have legal rights in the water contained 
 in that dam." 
 
 " No legal right to more than a just share." 
 
 "Of course not. But legal rights are de 
 termined by judges and juries. Already the
 
 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 69 
 
 case has been submitted, and the decision 
 made." 
 
 "Do you call that decision just?" demanded 
 Ellis, almost fiercely. 
 
 " No ; I think it unjust. But it was under the 
 law ; and for you to act in contravention thereof, 
 is to act at your peril." 
 
 " Suppose I sink my flume, what then? " 
 
 "You'll not be permitted to do so." 
 
 " Who will hinder me ? " 
 
 "Wing and Wheeler will ask for an injunction 
 to restrain you, and stop the work ere it is a 
 day old. It's no use, Mr. Ellis. You can't 
 drive this matter in your own way. Law rules 
 in our community, and any attempt to work be 
 yond law will operate to your injury. Better, 
 as I suggested yesterday, sell out your mill. 
 These men have you at a disadvantage, and 
 more will be lost than gained in further conten 
 tion with them." 
 
 "If I can't work the mill, nobody else can," 
 said Ellis. "The property, as things now stand, 
 has no actual value." 
 
 "I think you exaggerate the disadvantage,"
 
 70 NOT ANYTHING FOE PEACE. 
 
 returned the lawyer. "During at least nine 
 months of the year you will have a full head of 
 water. It is only during the dry summer season 
 that a deficiency can occur. Don't look past 
 this fact." 
 
 " I do look past it," said Ellis. What secu 
 rity have I against such scoundrels? They'll 
 find some means to draw off the head, winter 
 and summer. Honest men have no security. 
 Law is on the side of rogues ! " 
 
 The lawyer did not answer. Ellis went 
 on : 
 
 " I know that I have the right. And yet, in 
 appealing to the law for protection, I am re 
 pulsed and punished. It is not enough that I 
 suffer wrong ; in seeking legal redress for that 
 wrong I am spurned as the wrong-doer, aiicl 
 penalties laid on my shoulders. In the very 
 effort to disentangle myself from the thraldom 
 of an unjust aggression upon my rights, the law 
 steps in, and, binding me hand and foot, throws 
 me helpless at the rnercy of my assailants. And 
 then I am coolly advised to accept the humili 
 ating alternative of an abandonment of all to the
 
 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 71 
 
 wicked men who are seeking my destruction. 
 But, I tell you, sir, that while I have power to 
 lift a hand I will not yield. If you were to 
 offer me, this day, the full cost of my mill prop 
 erty, I would not accept the tender. I shall 
 hold it against them. This strife of interest is 
 not of my seeking. I meant all fair and just. 
 But if fight is the word, if peace cannot be 
 maintained except by giving up all, then I gird 
 my loins for battle ; then I draw the sword and 
 fliug away the scabbard." 
 
 "Take a word of advice," said the lawyer. 
 
 " Say on." 
 
 " Beware how you fight ! " 
 
 #o^I fight?" 
 
 Yes." 
 
 There was a pause. The two men stood look 
 ing into each other's faces. Ellis understood the 
 warning. 
 
 Thank you," he said, " I will take heed." 
 
 It was now as late in the season as October. 
 The summer and fall had been unusually dry, 
 and, in consequence, Mr. Ellis had lost seriously 
 through lack of water to grind, while his neigh-
 
 72 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 
 
 bor's mill rumbled away under a fair head all the 
 time. But rains having set in, a fair supply for 
 both mills was beginning to come down, and as 
 the water-line commenced rising in Ellis's flume, 
 and his great wheels to take a steadier and faster 
 motion, a calmer and more hopeful state of mind 
 began to exist. There was promise of a good 
 winter's grinding; and, resting on this, Ellis 
 tried to push from his thoughts as much as pos 
 sible everything connected with the wrongs he 
 had suffered at the hands of his neighbors. But 
 this was no easy work, for, in direct aspect, 
 right over the creek, stood Wheeler's mill, and 
 he could never lift his eyes without seeing the 
 great water-wheel, which always seemed to 
 glance at him with a spiteful and defiant air. 
 Thus bad blood was forever being stirred in his 
 heart. 
 
 In the mean time work on the new road and 
 bridge was in rapid progress, and it was a thing 
 of almost daily occurrence for the farmers who 
 came with their grists to refer to the period of 
 its completion. 
 
 "You'll not have it all your own way long,.
 
 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 73 
 
 friend Ellis," one would say, as he tried to beat 
 down the miller's price for grinding. " The new 
 bridge will be ready at Christmas." 
 
 "Your neighbor opposite intends to run you 
 off the track," anothpr would remark; while 
 from a third would come the annoying assevera 
 tion, that in a week after the new road and 
 bridge were completed he wouldn't have a grist 
 in his mill. 
 
 These things were deeply galling. Ellis pon 
 dered them night and day, a spirit of angry 
 desperation gaining a stronger and stronger 
 ascendency over him. Those who had known 
 him intimately for years, were surprised to 
 mark the change that had come over him. He 
 was harder and more irritable. All his cheer 
 fulness of temper was gone. It had given place 
 to a stern reserve, that repelled almost every 
 one. Half of his time he seemed lost amid 
 gloomy thoughts. 
 
 At last the bridge was completed, and, accord 
 ing to prediction, the farmers' wagons, instead 
 of stopping at Ellis's mill, commenced crossing 
 by the new road. To check this, the price of
 
 74 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 
 
 grinding was reduced to Wheeler's schedule, 
 which operated as a temporary diversion of trade 
 back to the old channel. But Wheeler was not 
 the man to yield in this contest, which he had 
 resolved not to abandon until Ellis was wholly 
 ruined. So he dropped to a lower scale, and 
 the farmers again took their way across the new 
 bridge. A few days afterwards a handbill was 
 circulated extensively on both sides of the creek, 
 in which Ellis used some pretty strong language 
 against both Wing and Wheeler, and closed by 
 declaring that he would grind for any prices the 
 farmers might choose to pay. Two things fol 
 lowed by way of retaliation a libel suit, and 
 an offer to grind without any charge whatever. 
 So the wall of fate seemed to rise higher and 
 close in nearer and nearer upon Ellis every day. 
 Every arrow directed against his neighbors 
 across the creek hurt himself; every blow aimed 
 at them stunned him in its recoil. He grew 
 blinder and more desperate. 
 
 About this time the appeal case was to be 
 argued in court. For several days before it was 
 reached on the docket Mr. Ellis was in a state
 
 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 75 
 
 of such nervous excitement that he could hardly 
 eat or sleep. 
 
 "I shall lose it, of course," he said. "Every 
 thing is going against me." 
 
 And his prediction was verified. The decision 
 of the lower court was affirmed. The five hun 
 dred dollars damages, with additional costs, had 
 to be paid. Unhappy man ! All things seemed 
 conspiring to his ruin. 
 
 The offer made by "Wheeler to grind for noth 
 ing, kept his grist-mill in full operation all the 
 while, and left that of Ellis nearly idle. There 
 were a few, of more just and manly character, 
 who were not to be influenced in the mean and 
 sordid way that distinguished the many, and 
 these came to Ellis. But their number was too 
 small to be of much good service. To some of 
 these Ellis talked freely, giving his own side 
 of the case, and exhibiting his wrongs. He 
 denounced the law, as made for the benefit of 
 scoundrels ; and darkly hinted his purpose of 
 taking the law into his own hands. Some 
 advised prudence, while others led him on to 
 talk as freely as he list, and encouraged a spirit 
 of retaliation.
 
 76 NOT ANYTHING FOE PEACE. 
 
 There 'd be a fire in this neighborhood," said 
 one of these less considerate friends, "were I 
 the owner of your mill. I don't say where ; 
 but I'm sure of one thing it wouldn't be in, 
 my premises." And he looked meaningly at 
 Ellis. This man's name was Porterfield. 
 
 ""Where would it be?" inquired the miller, 
 who very well understood what was in his 
 neighbor's mind. 
 
 " I don't say. But one thing is certain no 
 man should drive me to ruin. If the law failed 
 to protect me, I'd protect myself. I had a 
 neighbor once who was the owner of a trouble 
 some steer. The animal had a trick of opening 
 gates and taking down bars. There was no 
 security against its depredations. One day my 
 cornfield suffered pretty badly. I sent the 
 owner a bill of damages, and he refused to 
 pay it, giving me some impudence. When I 
 go in, I'm bound not to come out second best. 
 So I gave the bill to a magistrate, and told him 
 to sue. Well, as luck would have it, I lost the 
 case through some defect of proof, and had costs 
 to pay. I was angry, and no mistake. But, as
 
 NOT ANYTHING FOE PEACE. 77 
 
 I had gone in, I wasn't coming out so not I. 
 I swore revenge against the old steer ; and that 
 was bad for the steer. One day his owner 
 found him with a broken leg, and had to shoot 
 him. I think he understood the case ; but I had 
 taken care that no evidence should lie at my 
 door." 
 
 Ellis cast his eyes upon the ground, in a 
 thoughtful way, and stood for some time with 
 out making any answer. The neighbor eyed 
 him closely, and with something of a sinister 
 expression. 
 
 " Good day," he said, as he jumped into his 
 wagon. 
 
 Ellis started, and a slight flush came into his 
 face-, as he looked up at the farmer. 
 
 " Don't be driven to the wall. Self-preserva 
 tion is the first law of nature," said the latter, as 
 he took up the reins, and gave them a jerk. "I 
 know very well what I'd do, if I were in your 
 place." 
 
 "What?" asked Ellis. 
 
 The man glanced across the stream in a pecu 
 liar manner, not to be misunderstood, and then, 
 speaking to his horse, drove away.
 
 78 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 
 
 The next man who came to the mill found 
 Ellis so deeply immersed in thought that his 
 approach was unheeded. 
 
 "Asleep?" said he, touching the miller with 
 the end of his whip. 
 
 Ellis started up like one affrighted, his face 
 crimsoning, his air confused. His appearance, 
 for a moment or two, was that of a person try 
 ing hurriedly to conceal something. 
 
 " Only day-dreaming," he answered, affecting 
 an indifference that caused the other to wonder 
 at the contrast of calmness in the tone with a 
 strange excitement of look and manner. 
 
 " Rather a hard customer to deal with over 
 there," remarked the man, as he sat waiting for 
 his corn to be ground ; and he tossed his head in 
 the direction of Wheeler's mill. 
 
 " Kather," was coldly responded. 
 
 "I never liked him," said the man, who was 
 inclined to draw out the miller. 
 
 Ellis did not answer. His mind was too much 
 oppressed by many thoughts to be at all inclined, 
 just then, to conversation. 
 
 "Nobody likes him." The man was more 
 emphatic.
 
 NOT ANYTHING FOE PEACE. 79 
 
 "Why, then, does nearly everybody go to his 
 mill?" asked Mr. Ellis. 
 
 "O, as to that, if something can be had for 
 nothing, nearly everybody is willing to accept the 
 accommodation." 
 
 " Which doesn't say much for nearly every 
 body's sense of justice and independence." 
 
 "Of course not. But you can buy one half 
 of the people around here for a dollar their 
 self-respect, I mean. As for Adam Wheeler, he 
 can't grind for me at any price, while there's 
 another mill within a distance of ten miles." 
 
 This drew Ellis a little out of himself, and 
 he replied, with considerable warmth, 
 
 "His mill wouldn't stand where it does for 
 twenty-four hours if justice were done." 
 
 " That's a fact," replied the other. " I under 
 stand the case thoroughly. A more shameless 
 violation of an individual's rights has not oc 
 curred in this community. Why don't you 
 come down on him with a strong hand, and 
 wrest by force the justice denied by law? I 
 would do it." 
 
 "It's easy enough to talk," said Ellis, fret 
 fully.
 
 80 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 
 
 "Only a little easier than acting," answered 
 the man. 
 
 Ellis looked at his customer steadily for some 
 time, trying to read his face ; but he could make 
 out nothing satisfactory. 
 
 " One thing is certain," went on the other ; "I 
 would never stand it to see that mill-wheel 
 flaunting itself in the sunshine, day after day. 
 It should stop, and at any cost." 
 
 " How would you stop it ? " 
 
 I'd find a way." 
 
 " Show me the way." 
 
 "Can't; you must find it out for yourself." 
 And the man, who was standing in the door, 
 looking across the creek, turned back into the 
 mill, and sat do.wn on a bag of meal, lightly 
 humming a tune. 
 
 " I've tried law to my sorrow," said Ellis. 
 
 " Law ! " The man snapped his fingers in 
 contempt. "Honest men usually come out 
 second best in law." 
 
 " What other safe recourse is left ? " 
 
 " One thing is very plain," was answered ; " if 
 you sit still, and let your enemy gain one or
 
 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. SI 
 
 two more trifling advantages, it is all over with 
 you." 
 
 "I know that as well as you." 
 
 "And you're going to sit still?" 
 
 "I?" Two red spots came out on the 
 cheeks of Mr. Ellis ; and there was a flashing 
 light in his eyes. 
 
 " So I understand you." 
 
 "Don't!" 
 
 " Ah ! Then you are not going to sit still ? " 
 
 " Perhaps not unless my hands and feet are 
 tied." 
 
 " That's talking like a man. When you havo 
 justice on your side, fight to the bitter end." 
 
 "What I intend doing." 
 
 "Desperate diseases require desperate reme 
 dies; and this case is a desperate one." 
 
 " That's so ! " replied Ellis, with knit brows and 
 a clinched hand, that was shaken menacingly 
 towards his neighbor's mill. "There are re 
 served forces with every man, and he is a 
 coward who fails to use them in extremity." 
 
 " And elements quite as potent as law," said 
 the tempter. 
 
 6
 
 82 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 
 
 Exactly." 
 
 "I thought it was in you. Now, do you 
 know that Wheeler and Wing think you a 
 coward a man who will go down rather than 
 fight in mortal desperation?" 
 
 "How do you know this?" demanded Ellis, 
 in a fiery manner. The remark had stung 
 him. 
 
 " Some things are said and some things are 
 heard. Men talk out as they think, when they 
 feel safe in regard to listeners. Wheeler talks 
 now and then, and so does Wing. I've heard 
 them." 
 
 "What do they say?" 
 
 " I don't know what they say now ; but I have 
 heard them talking in my time." 
 
 " About me ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "And they intend driving me to the wall, I 
 suppose ? " 
 
 " They do ; and not only driving you to the 
 wall, but pinning you there. Now you under 
 stand just what you have to expect from them, 
 and must govern yourself accordingly. It has
 
 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 3 
 
 come to be a case of life and death, friend 
 Ellis ; and you'll have to look it steadily in the 
 face. They are bound to destroy you, root and 
 branch. Strike first, and destroy them, that's 
 my advice." 
 
 " Strike first," said Ellis to himself, when 
 alone. "Where shall I strike? How shall I 
 strike?" 
 
 He sat down in a dull, abstracted way, but 
 did not long remain so. In a few minutes he 
 rose up hurriedly, and, as if by a forced effort, 
 gave himself to the work around him now ex 
 amining the flour as it came from a pair of mill 
 stones, to see if the grinding was right, and 
 slightly altering the pressure ; now looking 
 down into the cog-pit, and listening to the jar 
 and rattle of the great iron wheels ; now passing 
 to the upper floors, and examining the grain- 
 garner ; and now, guided by the creaking of a 
 dry journal, giving to the heated machinery a 
 needed supply of oil. In this way Mr. Ellis 
 occupied himself for more than half an hour. 
 Then, leaning from one of the upper windows 
 that looked across the creek, he fixed his eyes
 
 84 NOT ANYTHING FOE PEACE. 
 
 upon Wheeler's mill. There had been a partial 
 lifting of the clouds from his countenance while 
 he moyed about and gave thought to the com 
 mon duties that lay around him ; but now the 
 shadows fell over it again. Nearer than the 
 tempting neighbor had stood to him, a little 
 while before, stood a subtle enemy, whispering 
 of revenge, assault, and destruction. Ques 
 tioned the fiend, tauntingly, 
 
 "Are you going down without a last fierce 
 struggle ? " 
 
 " No ! " ejaculated the miller, clinching his 
 hands. "By all that I hold dear and sacred, 
 no ! I will not be swept down and leave him 
 secure and triumphant. For the sake of peace 
 and neighborly good-will I gave way in the 
 beginning, when right admonished me to stand 
 firm. I put weapons into the hands of mine 
 enemy, and now he pursues me to utter destruc 
 tion. Shall I not, being at bay, fight with mad 
 desperation ? Shall I not destroy this enemy to 
 save myself? " 
 
 "If you are a man ! " whispered the fiend. 
 
 Then a vision passed, for an instant, before the
 
 NOT ANYTHING FOE PEACE. 5 
 
 eyes of Ellis. Suddenly flames broke out, and 
 leaping upwards and around the mill opposite, 
 held it in a fiery pall. 
 
 The miller caught his breath as the vision 
 passed, and turned from the window with a pale, 
 startled face. 
 
 " It must come to that." The fiend was still 
 at his ear. "It must come to that. There is 
 no other way of safety. If he stands, you fall. 
 One of these mills must go down. Shall it be 
 yours ? " 
 
 " It shall not be mine ! " answered the miller 
 to himself, sternly. 
 
 In the evening, when Mr. Ellis came home, 
 his wife noticed a change in his appearance. 
 
 "Are you sick, Thomas?" she asked, with 
 some anxiety in her voice. 
 
 Pie turned his face aside, as he answered, 
 with what seemed to her embarrassment and eva 
 sion, "No; I'm very well:" and passing her 
 with unusual quickness, went to one of the 
 chambers, and remained there until called to 
 supper ; then he came down and took his place 
 at the table.
 
 86 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 
 
 "You're not eating anything, Thomas," said 
 his wife, after a little while. Ellis, who had 
 fallen into an absent state, rallied himself, with 
 a slight confusion of manner, and lifting his 
 yet untasted cup of tea, drank it off at a single 
 draught. 
 
 "I don't feel much appetite," he answered; and 
 pushing his chair back from the table, got up 
 and went away to a shaded part of the room, 
 where he sat with his face in more concealment. 
 
 "Does anything trouble you, Thomas?" asked 
 Mrs. Ellis, coming to his side a little while after 
 wards, and laying her hand upon him. 
 
 "Yes, something always troubles me," he an 
 swered, gloomily. "Can I smile and be at peace, 
 when I see a gulf opening at my feet?" 
 
 "Don't talk so, husband; it distresses me," 
 said Mrs. Ellis. "All will come out right in the 
 end, if you continue to do right." 
 
 "It's coming out right very fast, isn't it, now?" 
 he answered, in a tone of irony. " Coming out 
 right very fast ! What is my mill property 
 worth to-day? Nothing just nothing at all! 
 Have I done wrong to any one? Have I not
 
 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 7 
 
 been just in dealing? If I continue to do 
 right ! No, no ; that assurance goes for noth 
 ing. Rogues have it all their own way nowa 
 days ; honest men are at a discount." 
 
 " That I should live to hear you say so, 
 Thomas ! " exclaimed Mrs. Ellis, tears falling 
 over her cheeks. 
 
 " That I should live to say so ! " was answered, 
 gloomily. 
 
 " Something has happened to make you de 
 spond ; but you'll see more clearly in the morn 
 ing." Mrs. Ellis tried to speak cheerfully. 
 
 " In the morning ! " He turned his head with 
 a quick motion, and looked for an instant intent 
 ly at his wife. 
 
 " Sleep calms the mind, Thomas. We lie 
 down at night with troubled hearts, and when 
 the morning breaks, all is again peaceful. Still 
 trust in God, and have faith in the right. The 
 wicked may flourish for a season ; but, like 
 flowers with a worm at the root, they wither 
 often in a day. Though all looks dark around 
 you, dear husband, the sun will come forth 
 again."
 
 88 NOT ANYTHING FOE PEACE. 
 
 " I cannot hope against hope," replied Mr. 
 Ellis, with an air of impatience. " Every strug 
 gle that I have made, in the effort to disentangle 
 myself from the toils of my enemies, has only 
 given them a new power over me. But " and 
 his manner changed " one thing is certain ; I 
 am not going down without a last struggle. 
 They shall not destroy me wholly, and yet dwell 
 in safety." 
 
 He set his teeth, and clinched his hands, in a 
 way that caused a low, creeping chill to pass 
 along the nerves of his wife. She tried to re 
 monstrate, but he waved his hand with increasing 
 impatience, and said, 
 
 " Don't talk to me, Margaret ! I can't bear it 
 just now." 
 
 Mrs. Ellis moved away from her husband, a 
 sad look falling over her patient face. Rising, 
 the unhappy man went from the house. It was 
 a clear, starlit night. Across the creek, that 
 flowed a little way from his dwelling, the flouring 
 and woollen mills of Wheeler and Winer loomed 
 
 O 
 
 faintly out from the surrounding darkness. Mr. 
 Ellis stood still, gazing at them for a long time ;
 
 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 89 
 
 then he passed clown to the side of the stream, 
 by a road leading towards his own mill, and get 
 ting close to the water, bent forward, and ex 
 amined certain rocks and large stones that lay in 
 the creek. Apparently not satisfied, he moved 
 farther down, and orice more strained his eyes 
 into the murky air. To all appearance, his de 
 sign was to cross over to the other side ; for he 
 now stepped carefully from the shore upon the 
 broad rock that stretched for several yards into 
 the shallow stream, and after getting to the end 
 of this, jumped across to another and smaller 
 rock. Beyond this, at short but irregular dis 
 tances, and ranging up the stream, were a num 
 ber of projecting stones and points of nearly 
 submerged rocks, around which the water rushed 
 and foamed noisily.- From one to another of 
 these Ellis passed, slipping now and then, but 
 maintaining his erect position until he gained 
 the other side. Here, with his heart beating in 
 great audible throbs, he stood still, and for 
 nearly five minutes scarcely stirred from the 
 spot. All was silent, save the rain-like seething 
 of the dam, over which a thin veil of water was 
 falling.
 
 90 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 
 
 Why was he there, and at that hour? Wh tt 
 was passing in his thoughts ? Never in his life 
 before had he been there at that hour, and alone. 
 Miserable man ! How was the tempter gaining 
 over him ! 
 
 Suddenly starting, he listened with strained 
 ear, and eyes searching into the surrounding 
 nio-ht. Something was moving not far off. He 
 
 O O o 
 
 saw a form but half defined, and heard the drop 
 ping of feet among the grass and leaves, but 
 could not make out whether it was that of a man 
 or an animal. Whoever or whatever it was, the 
 form soon lost itself in the darkness, and the 
 sound which had startled him was no longer 
 heard. 
 
 A nervous trembling now seized upon Mr. 
 Ellis. His limbs shook, his knees bent under 
 the weight of his body, his teeth rattled. Slow 
 ly and cautiously he commenced the difficult 
 task of recrossing the stream. When near the 
 centre, his foot slipped from the side of a slimy 
 stone, and one leg was buried knee-deep in the 
 water. Recovering himself, he made the rest of 
 his way across without further mishap, and when
 
 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 91 
 
 safely on his own side, sat down upon a stone, 
 weak and panting. As soon as he had regained 
 a degree of calmness, Mr. Ellis arose and re 
 turned to his house. Avoiding his wife, he 
 went up stairs, and removing his wet shoe and 
 stocking, concealed them in a dark closet. 
 Then taking a pair of dry stockings, and an 
 other pair of shoes, he laid them with his cloth 
 ing, which he removed, and went to bed. * 
 
 An hour afterwards, when Mrs. Ellis came up, 
 she spoke to her husband, but he did not answer. 
 Holding a candle near his face, she looked at 
 him with eyes full of tenderness and pity, mur 
 muring 1 to herself as she did so, "I'm glad he's 
 
 C5 * O 
 
 sleeping." 
 
 But did he sleep ? Two hours later he stood 
 over her, candle in hand. But the light did not 
 send a beam through the closely-shut eyelids. 
 Silentty withdrawing, Mr. Ellis, who was only 
 partially dressed, shut the chamber door, and in 
 the next room fully attired himself. Then put 
 ting out the light, he felt his way down stairs, 
 and left the house. The same road taken ear 
 lier in the night was taken now, and in a few
 
 92 NOT ANYTHING FOE PEACE. 
 
 minutes he stood by the starlit stream, that gur 
 gled, and seethed, and murmured through its 
 rocky obstructions. There was no hesitation 
 of manner now. With bold strides the miller 
 dashed across from rock to rock, and in a few 
 excited moments stood upon the opposite shore. 
 The point was several hundred yards below 
 Wheeler's mill, the outline of which cut sharply 
 against the moonless sky. Picking his way 
 along the shore, Ellis approached the mill, mov 
 ing with increasing caution as he drew near. 
 He was not over a hundred feet distant, when 
 a light, as if a great meteor had suddenly 
 streamed across the sky, lifted the whole laud- 
 scape out of darkness, making even the smallest 
 objects visible. Turning his eyes upon the mill, 
 near which he stood, he saw a volume of flame 
 that filled the whole of an upper window pour 
 ing out like a devouring flood. Surprise and 
 fear paralyzed him. He stood immovable for 
 several moments, the light growing stronger and 
 stronger all the while, as the flame spread, reach 
 ing to other windows, and leaping forth into 
 the air, until, within a wide circle, it was lumi 
 nous as day.
 
 NOT ANYTHING FOE PEACE. 93 
 
 An instinct of danger caused Mr. Ellis to 
 glance hurriedly around him, here and there, 
 for a place of concealment. He dared not ven 
 ture to recross the stream, lest some neighbor, 
 aroused by the conflagration, should discover 
 him in the passage. To be found away from 
 home at midnight, and in such near proximity 
 to the burning mill, would surely lead to his 
 arrest as an incendiary. He shuddered at his 
 peril, while great beads of cold perspiration 
 stood upon his face. Intense the light grew, 
 the rays seeming to draw around him as a focal 
 centre. 
 
 " Fire ! Fire ! " The cry broke wildly out of 
 the deep silence. Ellis turned, and saw a man 
 springing down the bank on the opposite side of 
 the creek, and dashing into the water. To run 
 for a clump of trees that stood a few hundred 
 feet from the stream was to act from a natural 
 perception of danger. Gaining the sheltering 
 point, and crouching among the underbrush, he 
 looked out fearfully upon the scene.. "Fire! 
 Fire!" The wild cry, given at short intervals, 
 kept thrilling the air. Soon it was repeated,
 
 94 NOT ANYTHING FOE PEACE. 
 
 first singly and remotely, but soon in multiplied 
 responses, and in the nearer mingling of excited 
 voices. 
 
 " Fire ! Fire ! " It was just behind him. 
 Mr. Ellis crouched lower to the earth, actually 
 creeping under the closely-matted leaves and 
 branches of a large hawthorn. The man who 
 had uttered the cry passed within a few feet of 
 where he was lying, and encountered, a little 
 way beyond, another man, who asked, in an ex 
 cited voice, 
 
 "Did you see a person running?" 
 
 " No ! " was answered. 
 
 " He went in just there. I saw him as I came 
 down on the other side. He was out in the 
 glare of the light, and ran off at my cry of ' Fire.' 
 What was he doing there ? Why did he not give 
 the alarm ? Why did he run ? " 
 
 At this instant, a cry that made all hearts 
 shudder rang out from the mill, and a man ap 
 peared at an upper story, stretching forth his 
 hands for succor. It was Wheeler. Below him 
 the story was on fire, and the flames beginning 
 to crash through the windows, from which dense
 
 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 95 
 
 volumes oramoke belched forth. The men who 
 had paused near to where Ellis lay concealed 
 now dashed off towards the mill. Creeping 
 forth from his hiding-place, Ellis retreated far 
 ther away, until he reached the skirt of a dense 
 wood, into which he retired hastily, running 
 until at so great a distance from the burning 
 mill that he was in no danger of discovery. 
 Here he found opportunity to rally his bewil 
 dered faculties, and to let reason take the place 
 of blind fear. 
 
 A little clear thinking soon made it plain to 
 Mr. Ellis that the only way to avoid suspicion 
 was to hasten to the scene of conflagration, and 
 join in with his neighbors in their effort to save 
 life and property. But was there not danger ill 
 approaching the fire from the side opposite that 
 on which he lived ? Might not the man who saw 
 him fleeing for concealment recognize him ? But 
 how was it possible to gain his own side of the 
 creek without being discovered? As Mr. Ellis 
 debated, time passed, every moment increasing 
 his perplexity. The roar of the conflagration, 
 and the confused mingling of many voices,
 
 96 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 
 
 grew louder and louder. To hesitate long was 
 fatal. 
 
 Desperately breaking forth from the woods, 
 Ellis at length dashed forward in the direction 
 of the mill, determined to reach it by the short 
 est way. As he sprang over a fence that sepa 
 rated a field from the common road, he came 
 upon a man who was running at full speed 
 towards the fire. 
 
 "Why, Ellis!" exclaimed the man. "What 
 are you doing here?" 
 
 "O, Porterfield ! Is this you?" responded 
 the miller, in a voice that betrayed his agitation. 
 "I crossed by the bridge, and took a short cut 
 through the woods." 
 
 " A short cut ! I should call it a long cut," 
 answered the man, as they ran forward, side by 
 side. 
 
 " It proved a long cut," answered Ellis, driven 
 to find some plausible explanation, " for I got 
 bewildered and turned out of the way. This is 
 a bad business." 
 
 "What?" 
 
 "This fire."
 
 NOT ANYTHING FOE PEACE. 97 
 
 " Do you think so ? " There was a meaning in 
 Porterfield's voice that did not fall pleasantly on 
 the millers ears. 
 
 " Of course I do. Fire is always a great dis 
 aster." 
 
 "It will hardly prove a disaster to you in 
 the present case, I'm thinking," said Porter- 
 field. " It's an ill wind that blows nobody any 
 good." 
 
 By this time they came into the open space 
 that surrounded the mill. A large number of 
 persons had already reached the scene of con 
 flagration, and hundreds more were flocking 
 thitherward from all directions. But fire was 
 absolute monarch for that night. The pale 
 crowd that stood helplessly gazing up at the 
 madly leaping and quivering flames, had no 
 power to stay their progress ; and when the roof 
 went crushing in upon the consuming floors, an 
 answering groan of pain and horror fell upon the 
 air, for beneath that falling roof was the body of 
 Adam Wheeler ! 
 
 For nearly two hours the mill burned ; and 
 then the fierce flames went down, dying amid 
 7
 
 98 NOT ANYTHING FOE PEACE. 
 
 heaps of red coals, that hiy between the walls 
 like furnace fires. 
 
 As Mr. Ellis stood among the crowds of peo 
 ple drawn to the scene of destruction, half 
 stupefied and bewildered, his ears took in many 
 sentences that made his heart sink and tremble. 
 Two men talked thus, not knowing that he was 
 near them. 
 
 " There's been foul work here, I'm afraid," said 
 one of them. 
 
 " Why do you think so ? " was inquired. 
 
 " I have my suspicious," vaguely replied the 
 first speaker. 
 
 " Whom do you suspect ? " 
 
 " There have been two or three lawsuits about 
 this mill property." 
 
 "With Ellis?" 
 
 "I didn't mention any names." 
 
 "You might as well have done so," said the 
 man with whom he was conversing. 
 
 " Other people may call names. I never do," 
 was answered. 
 
 "But you really think the mill was set on 
 fire ? "
 
 NOT ANYTHING FOE PEACE. 99 
 
 " I can tell you what I saw." 
 
 "What?" 
 
 " I was the first man who cried ' Fire ! ' ' 
 
 " Were you ? " 
 
 "Yes. The light shone into my window and 
 awoke me. I ran out and gave the alarm. As 
 I came down on the opposite side of the creek, I 
 distinctly saw a man just below the mill. He 
 escaped from the circle of light, and hid himself 
 among the trees." 
 
 "Is that so?" Indignation mingled with sur 
 prise in the man's voice. 
 
 "It is." 
 
 "Then he must.be discovered. Did you 
 recognize him ? " 
 
 Mr. Ellis held his breath. But the man did 
 not reply. 
 
 "Was it Ellis?" 
 
 " God forbid that I should accuse any one ! 
 No, I do not believe it was Ellis." 
 
 It did not take long for the fact that a man 
 had been seen near the mill, when the fire was 
 first discovered, to reach every person in the 
 crowd that stood around the smouldering ruins.
 
 100 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 
 
 And this fact was conclusive as to the incendiary 
 origin of the fire. That settled, the next thing 
 was to direct suspicion towards an individual. 
 From lip to lip the name of Thomas Ellis passed 
 in whispered utterances. Some believed and 
 some rejected the charge ; nearly all were 
 shocked and sorrowful, for Thomas Ellis 
 stood without reproach among his neighbors. 
 All knew him as a man of integrity and kind 
 ness. Instinctively men shrunk from him in 
 the crowd, or glanced at him furtively, and with 
 suspicion or accusation in their faces. 
 
 As the fire in the burning mill fell lower and 
 lower, and night stole back again, spreading her 
 dusky mantle over the hills and valleys, despair 
 settled down upon the heart of Mr. Ellis. He 
 felt that he was doomed. As he moved, men 
 drew back from him. Returning over the 
 stream, at the point where he had twice 
 crossed it that night, he went with slow steps 
 back to his home, feeling like a criminal with 
 the law officers close upon his track. 
 
 The white face of Mr. Ellis startled his wife 
 like an apparition.
 
 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 1Q1 
 
 " O, Thomas!" she exclaimed, taking hold 
 of him with a sudden grasp as he came in. 
 "Are you sick, or hurt?" 
 
 "I am sick, Margaret," answered the unhappy 
 man, in a voice so changed to the ears of Mrs. 
 Ellis that it did not sound like the voice of her 
 husband. And as he said this, he laid his head 
 down upon her, and sobbed once or twice. A 
 strong shudder ran through his frame ; then he 
 was calm and self-possessed. 
 
 " Margaret," he said, speaking in an even 
 tone, " it is better that I should tell you all, 
 that you may know exactly where I stand. I 
 shall be charged with the crime of burning this 
 mill, and the life of Adam Wheeler will be laid 
 upon my head." 
 
 Instantly the form of his wife fell away from 
 him as though she had been pierced with light 
 ning. He grasped after her, clutching her gar 
 ments, and just saving her from a heavy fall. 
 
 " But I am innocent, dear wife ! My hands 
 are clean ! " 
 
 Mrs. Ellis caught her breath, shudderingly, 
 and regained her half-extinguished conscious 
 ness.
 
 102 NOT ANYTHING FOK PEACE. 
 
 "I am sure of it, Thomas," she murmured, 
 faintly, "aiid no one will believe the cruel 
 charge." 
 
 " All believe it now, Margaret. This I want 
 you clearly to understand, that you may be 
 prepared for the worst. There is no time for 
 softening this announcement. The calamity is 
 at our door. I am in God's hands, and he 
 alone can save me. An hour from this time, 
 and I shall, without question, be in the hands 
 of an officer. Before separation, I must lay 
 bare some things which it will be best for you 
 to know, in order to save the possibility of 
 a misjudgment of your husband. The evidence 
 will, I fear, be strong against me, for I was 
 near the mill when the fire broke out." 
 
 "You, Thomas ! You near the mill?" 
 
 "Yes, Margaret. Don't shiver so! I am in 
 nocent." 
 
 "O, my husband! my husband!" Wildly 
 Mrs. Ellis wrung her hands. 
 
 " I am innocent, Margaret. Innocent in act, 
 but not innocent before God ! Crime was in 
 my heart, maddened by desperation, and I 
 meditated the evil thing which has come."
 
 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 1Q3 
 
 "You will kill me, Thomas ! " exclaimed Mrs. 
 Ellis. 
 
 " It had been better for us if we had died a 
 year ago, Margaret." Mr. Ellis was strangely 
 calm now, even as the surface of the sea is calm 
 under the pressure of a heavy storm. "An evil 
 power has been at work against me. All hell 
 seems to have leagued itself for my destruction. 
 I have tried to live at peace with my neighbors ; 
 I have tried to be just in my dealings towards 
 all men ; but even my virtues have been used 
 as instruments of ruin. God help me ! " 
 
 " O, my husband ! God will help you. Re 
 member what the Bible says : I am a very pres 
 ent help in time of trouble." 
 
 "I cannot look up in any hope, Margaret. 
 Hush ! " And Ellis glanced towards the door, 
 bending his head in a listening attitude. 
 
 "I don't hear any one," said Mrs. Ellis, after 
 hearkening for a moment. 
 
 Rising, the wretched man went from the room 
 where they were sitting into one that adjoined, 
 shutting the door so as to exclude the light. In 
 a few minutes he came back, saying, as he re 
 joined his wife,
 
 104 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 
 
 "It is as I supposed. Men are guarding the 
 house to prevent escape until a warrant for my 
 arrest is obtained. And now, in the brief time 
 that we are to remain together, let me open the 
 door of my heart, that you may look in, Mar 
 garet, and know just what manner of man I am. 
 As I told you just now, I am not innocent before 
 God, for I did purpose the thing which has oc 
 curred. Driven to despair by the wrongs I 
 have suffered, seeing only ruin before me, in 
 an evil hour I yielded to the tempter. ' If I must 
 go down, he shall go down also,' I said. You 
 can never know how I battled with this tempta 
 tion. But the darkness of midnight gathered 
 around me. I could see light only in one direc 
 tion, a path only in one way, and towards 
 that lurid light, along that dreadful path, I at 
 last consented to go. After you were asleep, 
 I left the house, and crossed the creek, fixed iu 
 my determination to set "Wheeler's mill on fire. 
 It had, I reasoned, no right to be there. It was 
 built in fraud, and stood in violation of my 
 rights. Either it must be destroyed, or my ruin 
 was certain. I had appealed to the law, but the
 
 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 1Q5 
 
 law, instead of giving relief, had actually pun 
 ished me as a transgressor. Self-protection, I 
 said, is the first law of nature. And so I 
 pressed blindly forward, resolved to do a deed, 
 the bare thought of which now fills me with 
 shuddering. I had gained the other side, and 
 was approaching the mill, when a light glared 
 up, and all objects around me became visible. 
 Lifting my eyes, I saw flames bursting from the 
 windows. My feet stood still. I was like one 
 paralyzed. A strange thrill quivered along my 
 nerves, niy hair lifted itself, my flesh seemed 
 to creep. It grew lighter and lighter. Day was 
 not more intense. And there I stood, in the 
 broad revealing glare, unable to stir. 
 
 "Even while I stood there, the cry of 'Fire !' 
 came ringing out upon the air, and, turning, I 
 saw a man leaping down towards the creek from 
 this side. The instinct of impending danger 
 gave life to my feet, and I started for a hiding- 
 place in the woods. There I lay concealed for 
 a while, and then came forth, intending to 
 join in the crowd which had by this time gath 
 ered near the burning mill, trusting that I had
 
 106 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 
 
 not been recognized by the man who had seen 
 me in the circle of light made by the flames. 
 But, as I came from the woods into the road, 
 John Porterfield happened to be just at that 
 point running towards the fire. Recognizing 
 me, he put curious questions as to my being 
 just there, which I did not answer satisfactorily. 
 Strange union of suspicious incidents ! This 
 very man, not twelve hours ago, was a tempting 
 devil at my ear. His suggestions gave fire to 
 the half-formed purposes in my mind. He 
 helped to lead me out of the right path ; and 
 no sooner was I .astray, than his eyes saw the 
 departure. Margaret, it seems to me as if I 
 were God-forsaken ! And yet I have one great 
 consolation the retribution which has fallen 
 upon my enemy came not from this hand. 
 Though evil was in my heart, there was a limit 
 to the act. Before God I am guilty, but not 
 before men. If men condemn and punish, their 
 sentence will be unjust ; I shall not suffer for 
 evil doing. O, my wife ! believe me in this. I 
 have told you all." 
 
 " O, Thomas ! My husband I If all men
 
 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 1Q7 
 
 condemn thee, yet will I not." Mrs. Ellis drew 
 her arms around his neck. "Thank God that 
 you are innocent of this dreadful thing ! Thank 
 God that you were saved, even m the last 
 bitter moment of overwhelming temptation. 
 Let us take it as an assurance that these 
 floods, which roar so fearfully, will not over 
 whelm us." 
 
 "And you do not doubt me, Margaret?" 
 
 " O, no, no ! " 
 
 "If you doubt me, I am lost. If your faith 
 fail not, I may have strength to bear up, though 
 my name be cast out as evil. I shall be tried ; 
 and there will appear strong evidence against 
 me. Even your faith may be shaken." 
 
 " No no no ! " Mrs. Ellis flung back, 
 almost indignantly, the suggestion. " My faith 
 cannot be shaken. Has my head rested so long 
 against this heart that I should not know it? 
 You are innocent ! " 
 
 "In just so far as I have said, Margaret. But, 
 if destruction had not preceded my ready hand, 
 the guilt of an awful deed would have been on 
 my head. I was, for the time, no longer my-
 
 108 NOT ANYTHING FOE PEACE. 
 
 self, Margaret. An evil spirit had taken pos 
 session of my will, and was driving me on to 
 ruin. A few minutes, and I would have been 
 lost. But my soul is yet safe. I can and do 
 repent of the wicked purpose that was in my 
 heart. I loathe it ! I abhor it ! Rather than 
 have that sin fixed on my conscience, I would 
 accept of death in any shape." 
 
 Both started and listened, and the faces of 
 both grew paler. The sound of coming feet 
 had reached their ears. A few moments of 
 suspense, and then a hand was laid on the door. 
 It was fastened; but Mr. Ellis walked firmly 
 across the room, and drew back the bolt. Three 
 men entered, one of them a county constable. 
 The latter, placing a hand on Mr. Ellis, said, 
 sternly, 
 
 " You are my prisoner, sir ! " 
 
 On what charge ? " Mr. Ellis did not falter 
 in the least. 
 
 "On the charge of setting fire to Wheeler's 
 mill," answered the constable. 
 
 " Of which I am innocent." The prisoner 
 spoke in a firm voice, and looked into the
 
 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 1Q9 
 
 officer's face with so steady an eye that the 
 latter dropped his gaze. 
 
 "No man will be gladder than I when your 
 innocence is made clear," said he constable. 
 "But my duty is to make the arrest." 
 
 " He is innocent ! " The white lips of Mrs. 
 Ellis bore this testimony. Then, as she came 
 to her husband's side, and laid her hand upon 
 him, she said, 
 
 " Go, Thomas ! He who knows your inno 
 cence will make it appear. Man's extremity is 
 His opportunity. It has been growing darker 
 and darker with us for some time, and now it 
 is midnight. But the day will come. Even 
 now it may be nearer at hand than you or I 
 imagine." 
 
 She kissed him very tenderly, and then laid 
 her head for a few moments on his bosom. All 
 hearts were touched. There were unbidden 
 tears in the eyes of strong men. 
 
 "Go, my husband." Mrs. Ellis stood up, 
 strangely calm, in this trying moment. "Go, 
 but fear not. A just God has you in his 
 keeping."
 
 HO NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 
 
 And there they parted he going forth into 
 the dark night a prisoner, charged with a great 
 crime, and she sitting down in the shadow of 
 an impending calamity of such fearful mag 
 nitude that no hope was left but in God. 
 Stunned and despairing, Mr. Ellis spent the 
 hours until morning in the narrow boundaries 
 of a cell. On bended knees, in tearful sup 
 plication, the same hours were passed by his 
 heart-stricken wife. The gray dawn found 
 them both asleep he on a prison-bed, and 
 she bowed in the attitude of prayer. 
 
 At the preliminary examination, held before 
 a magistrate on the next day, Porterfield and 
 others testified to remarks of a threatening 
 character, as used by Mr. Ellis in regard to 
 Adam Wheeler, one of the witnesses declaring 
 on oath that the prisoner had, in his hearing, 
 sworn vengeance against the latter, at the same 
 time indicating fire as the means. The person 
 who saw Ellis near the mill, as he ran down to 
 the bank of the stream, could not swear posi 
 tively to his identity ; but his evidence was 
 given in a way to strengthen suspicion. Porter-
 
 NOT ANYTHING FOE PEACE. 
 
 field's statement about meeting Mr. Ellis emer 
 ging from a woods on the side of the creek 
 opposite to that on which he lived, after the 
 fire was some time in progress, with his unsat 
 isfactory answers on being questioned, were so 
 strong against him in the chain of evidence 
 brought, that he was remanded to prison. Here 
 he lay, bail being refused in consequence of the 
 capital nature of the crime charged, for three 
 weeks, or until the next session of the grand 
 jury, when a true bill was found against him 
 for arson, and also for murder, in causing the 
 death of Adam Wheeler. The criminal court 
 being in session, the trial came on almost im 
 mediately. 
 
 Two parties, strongly prejudging the case, 
 were soon formed in the neighborhood, the one 
 for and the other against the prisoner. Of 
 those most active and bitter against Ellis was 
 the Scotchman,, Archibald Wing, who set him 
 self to hunt up evidence with the keen scent of 
 a bloodhound. Leading the opposition, and in 
 favor of Ellis, was Harvey Tompkins, the man 
 from whom Wheeler had bought the fifty, acres
 
 112 NOT ANYTHING FOE PEACE. 
 
 of ground lying on each side of the stream, at 
 the point where the new bridge was located. 
 The disgrace of her husband's position, and 
 the fearful calamity that impended, instead of 
 paralyzing the energies of Mrs. Ellis, devel 
 oped latent resources that surprised her friends. 
 She thought only of her husband's vindication 
 
 and safety, and to this end bent all the powers 
 
 x 
 
 of her mind. There dwelt with her no shadow 
 of doubt touching his entire innocence of the 
 crime with which he stood accused. Assuming 
 this, the difficult thing, in the face of so many 
 circumstances that pointed to him as an incen 
 diary, was to discover the actual cause of the 
 fire, and the true criminal, if the fire were not 
 accidental. She did not waver in her belief 
 that her husband's entire innocence would be 
 come manifest. 
 
 While many sympathized with Mrs. Ellis, 
 few gave her encouragement. Even those w T ho 
 doubted her husband's guilt saw little chance 
 for his escape from conviction. In the . brief 
 period that elapsed from the time the grand 
 jury found a bill of indictment until the day
 
 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. H3 
 
 of trial, no facts came to light on which any 
 sure defence of the case could be made. This 
 circumstance alone stood out from the blank 
 obscurity : A stranger had called at the house 
 of Mr. Tompkins on the night of the fire, and 
 asked for food, on receiving which he further 
 asked the privilege of sleeping in the barn. To 
 this request a negative was given, it not being 
 considered safe, one or two fires having been 
 occasioned in the neighborhood during the year, 
 through the carelessness of strollers in using 
 
 O O 
 
 pipes or cigars. The man grumbled, and went 
 on his way. A neighbor, living between the 
 house of Mr. Tompkins and Wheeler's mill, 
 very well remembered seeing a man go along 
 the road, on the same night, in the direction of 
 the mill, smoking. Passing near him in the 
 road, he saw that he was a stranger, and set him 
 down, at the time, as a "tramp." This was all. 
 No other persons remembered having seen this 
 man. 
 
 The day of trial came, and the prosecuting 
 attorney set forth, in opening the case, the fac 
 which he said they were prepared, by competent
 
 114 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 
 
 witnesses, to prove. The heart of Mrs. Ellis 
 scarcely moved during the fearful recital, and 
 her blood seemed like ice in her veins. Then 
 witnesses commenced giving in their testimony, 
 and circumstance after circumstance was brought 
 forth, one after another, each arranging itself as 
 a new link in the evidence, until a chain of facts, 
 one binding the other, held the accused in a 
 dreadful bondage to apparent guilt that seemed 
 impossible to be broken. Friends grew sad and 
 pale ; and even the judges* eyes turned, grieving, 
 away from the wife's ashen face, as she sat near 
 her husband, and leaning towards him. If 
 others' faith in him wavered, hers did not. 
 
 After the testimony for the state had closed, 
 Mr. Tompkins was called for the defence. He 
 could bear clear testimony to the previous good 
 character of the accused ; but what of that, in 
 the face of so many condemning circumstances? 
 No impression was made on the jury. Then he 
 related the incident of the strange man who had 
 asked for the privilege of sleeping in his barn, 
 and who was afterwards seen going towards the 
 mill with a lighted pipe in his mouth. This last
 
 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. H5 
 
 fact was corroborated by another witness ; but 
 it proved nothing. Then neighbor after neigh 
 bor took the witness-stand, and under the care 
 fully-directed questions of Mr. Ellis's counsel, 
 gave the strongest kind of evidence touching 
 the social and moral qualities of the accused. 
 He was just, humane, law-abiding. In the 
 whole community, no man had shown himself a 
 better citizen. He had stood among the people 
 blameless, suffering, yet not doing wrong. But 
 nothing was offered that gave any satisfactory 
 explanation of the circumstances on which the 
 prosecution rested for conviction. There were 
 threats proved, and absence from home at or 
 near the time when the fire broke out. A man 
 was seen escaping out of the circle of light 
 thrown from the burning mill, and Mr. Ellis 
 appeared a little while afterwards, emerging 
 from the woods into which the man had dis 
 appeared. As those woods lay on the opposite 
 side from Mr. Ellis's dwelling, the circumstance 
 was strongly against him. Mr. Porterfield tes- 
 tified to the prisoner's confusion of manner on 
 meeting him, and to the improbable reason
 
 116 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 
 
 assigned for bis presence in that particular loca 
 tion. 
 
 The case being closed on both sides, counsel 
 for the state commenced summing up the facts 
 which appeared in evidence, setting forth, in a 
 strong light, their character as conclusive touch 
 ing the prisoner's guilt. As he progressed, all 
 saw the hopelessness of Mr. Ellis's cause, and 
 even those who had, up till this time, held fast 
 to their faith in his innocence, now wavered, 
 while some gave him up as guilty. On closing 
 in a powerful appeal to the jury, that sounded 
 like a knell of despair, Mrs. Ellis gave a low 
 cry of anguish, that thrilled through the hushed 
 court-room, and, sinking forward, Avas caught 
 in the arms of her husband, by whose side she 
 had remained sitting during all of this fearful 
 trial. 
 
 Then a stillness as of death reigned through 
 the crowded audience. The prosecutor sat 
 down, a shadow of pain gradually displacing 
 
 the flush of enthusiasm with which professional 
 
 f 
 ardor had lighted up his face. In this pause the 
 
 lawyer for the defence was about rising, when
 
 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. H7 
 
 
 a man of poor appearance stood suddenly forth, 
 
 separating himself from the crowd, and advan 
 cing within the bar. In a quick, agitated voice, 
 he addressed the judges, pointing at the same 
 time to the prisoner. His words were, 
 
 "If there is guilt anywhere, your honors, it 
 rests not with him ! I am the man referred to 
 by witnesses as having been seen going towards 
 the mill ; and the mill was burned through my 
 carelessness. I crept in at an open window, and 
 lay down on some shavings under a work-bench, 
 where I fell asleep. I don't know how long I 
 slept ; but, on waking, I lighted a pipe, and in 
 doing so dropped a match among the shavings, 
 which caught instantly. In trying to put out 
 the fire, I scattered the burning shavings around, 
 and spread the flames so that I could not extin 
 guish them. Alarmed at what I had done, I 
 escaped from the mill, and fled away in the 
 darkness, not stopping until I was miles distant. 
 I knew by the great light in the sky above where 
 the mill stood that it was all in flames, and 
 would be consumed, but I did not know for 
 days afterwards that a life had been lost. Fear
 
 - 118 N T ANYTHING FOE PEACE. 
 
 kept me pressing onward, and in a week I was 
 nearly a hundred miles away from this place. I 
 have returned because an innocent man is in 
 danger. If punishment must fall upon any one, 
 let it fall on me." 
 
 He ceased speaking, and stood bending for 
 ward towards the judges. Mrs. Ellis, who had 
 sunk down under the pressure of a suddenly 
 overwhelming despair at the conclusion of the 
 prosecuting attorney's speech, started up like 
 one awakened from a dream when this unlooked- 
 for witness commenced giving in his testimony. 
 The death-like paleness of her face changed as 
 the man proceeded, until its ashen hue was lost 
 in the flush of a new-springing hope. 
 
 "I said he was innocent, and here is the proof! 
 Thank God ! thank God ! " 
 
 Above the silence that succeeded the vindica 
 tion of her husband, the clear voice of Mrs. Ellis 
 thrilled, in these brief sentences, all the strained 
 ears and oppressed hearts in that crowded court 
 room. Upon only one face rested doubt and 
 dissatisfaction, and that was on the face of 
 Archibald Wing. There had been light and
 
 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. H9 
 
 triumph on it a little while before. Rising in 
 the pause that followed, he moved to where 
 his lawyer sat, and bending close to his ear, 
 whispered a few words. All eyes were turned 
 to him, and all noted the expression of his 
 countenance. Immediately his counsel arose, 
 and addressing the court, said, with some stern 
 ness of manner, 
 
 " This is irregular, your honors. Will you 
 order the witness to be sworn?" 
 
 "The clerk will swear the witness," said the 
 presiding judge. 
 
 The usual oath was then administered, and the 
 witness placed regularly on the stand. With a 
 clear voice he repeated his former statement, 
 only with more particularity, yet not varying in 
 the slightest degree from the main facts at first 
 given. All the cross-questionings of the prose 
 cution only made his evidence the clearer and 
 more coherent. On a final submission of the 
 case, the jury, without leaving the box, ren 
 dered, almost instantly, a verdict of " not 
 guilty." 
 
 Only one man expressed dissatisfaction,
 
 120 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 
 
 Wing, the Scotchman ; and his language had in 
 it so much of ill-will towards Mr. Ellis, that 
 people were shocked and disgusted. 
 
 In the pause that followed this agitating trou 
 ble, with its sense of security and peace, Mr. 
 Ellis folded his arms and sat down. So fearful 
 a calamity as that which had threatened to de 
 stroy him utterly being turned aside, it seemed 
 to him for a little while as if he were in an ark 
 of safety. But his enemy was Neither sleeping 
 nor powerless. Open antagonism had produced 
 undying hate. "Wing had accepted his destruc 
 tion as certain, and enjoyed, by anticipation, a 
 fall from which there could be no rising; but 
 at the very moment when he saw the bolt de 
 scending, and held his breath for the stroke, a 
 hand unseen before turned it aside, and it fell 
 harmless. 
 
 " He shall not escape me so ! " Thus he spoke 
 in his secret thought. 
 
 Only a few dnys elapsed before men were set 
 to work upon the ruins of Wheeler's mill, and a 
 contract entered into with a millwright by Wing 
 for its reconstruction. When this was told to
 
 NOT ANYTHING FOE PEACE. 121 
 
 Ellis, the old trouble came buck again into his 
 heart. The fierce battle through which he had 
 fought his way to a brief peace left him only 
 the more in love with peace. "Anything for 
 peace," was the almost despairing cry of his 
 heart, as he saw the enemy again marshalling his 
 forces. If that mill were suffered to be rebuilt, 
 nothing could save him from the ruin which had 
 well nigh been accomplished. A little period 
 of hesitation, a brief submission to an oppres 
 sive sense of weakness, and, then, nerving him 
 self for a new, and, if possible, a more deter 
 mined struggle, the miller called to his aid two 
 of the best lawyers in the county, and com 
 menced the war with an injunction to restrain 
 "VYing from proceeding any farther in the work 
 of rebuilding the burnt mill. 
 
 Now the tide was turned. Wing had be 
 trayed his malignancy at the trial, and the eyes 
 of people were opened to see things in a differ 
 ent aspect from what they had formerly ap 
 peared. Ellis's true character and situation 
 were more clearly seen. Many who, from a 
 superficial or prejudiced view of the case, had
 
 122 NOT ANYTHING FOE PEACE. 
 
 permitted themselves to espouse the side of 
 Wing, were now satisfied that he was the ag 
 gressor and Ellis the victim. A new survey of 
 the mill-dam was ordered by the court, and the 
 wrong, as charged, in the lower level of Wing's 
 flume, fully established, and the Scotchman re 
 quired to elevate his flume by some eight or ten 
 inches. Another and an authoritative reading 
 was given to the contract entered into by Ellis, 
 and Wing for building the dam, and its true 
 intent and limitations established by the court, 
 which forbade Wing, or any person acting under 
 his authority, using water for purposes beyond 
 what the contract evidently contemplated. 
 
 " Peace and hope at last," said the miller, as 
 he went back to his work again, with the pro 
 tecting and defending arms of the law safely 
 cast around him, "peace and hope at last; but 
 through what a fierce and dangerous conflict ! 
 In the time to come, I will give no place to the 
 enemy, admit none of his encroachments, 
 accept the conflict with evil when it first moves 
 against me, and stand by the right. If I had
 
 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 123 
 
 done this in the beginning, when I held the ad- 
 vSntage of a secure position, what loss, what 
 trouble, what peril, might have been avoided ! 
 It shall be no more 'Anything for peace,' but 
 < Anything for the right ; ' for only in the right 
 is man assured of safety."
 
 124 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 
 
 II. 
 
 WISHING AND DOING. 
 
 Two little girls, named Grace and Phoebe 
 Allen, while on their way from school one after 
 noon, saw a baby, not a year old, sitting on the 
 floor of a poor woman's cottage. Its mother 
 was in the yard, washing, and the baby sat all 
 alone, playing with some clothes-pins and an old 
 broken basket. 
 
 "O, the poor baby!" exclaimed Grace, as 
 they stopped before the cottage hovel were 
 a better word, the place was so small and 
 mean. 
 
 The baby looked up and smiled as the children 
 stood in the door and spoke to it softly and ten 
 derly. Out flew its little hands, fluttering like 
 the wings of a bird, and its soft voice cooed and 
 coaxed to be taken. But face and hands and 
 clothes were all so dirty that neither of the chil 
 dren could take it in their arms. But they
 
 WISHING AND DOING. 125 
 
 played with the poor thing for a while, and 
 then went away, leaving it crying after them. 
 
 " O, dear ! Isn't it dreadful to see a dear 
 baby kept like that?" said Phoebe. 
 
 "I wish it was a clean, sweet baby. How 
 nice it would be, when we came from school 
 every afternoon, to stop and play with it ! " 
 answered Grace. 
 
 " So do I. But then wishing isn't of any use. 
 It doesn't give clean faces and clean clothes. If 
 it did, I know one thing, there 'd be another 
 sweet baby in the world." 
 
 Grace stood still, and looked quite soberly 
 at her sister. A new thought had come into 
 her mind. 
 
 "Don't you remember, Phoebe, what our Sun 
 day-school teacher told us about wishing, and 
 thinking, and doing?" she asked. 
 
 "No; what was it?" 
 
 " She told us that there were three things in 
 every good work wishing, thinking, and doing ; 
 and that the wishing always came first. Don't 
 you remember that papa said one day, 'The 
 wish is father to the thought,' and we wondered 
 what he could mean?"
 
 126 NOT ANYTHING FOE PEACE. 
 
 " O, yes ! And now I recollect all about what 
 our teacher said," replied Phoebe. " She told us 
 that a good desire would always set us to think 
 ing about how to do the thing we desired ; 
 and that when the thought grew active, it would 
 soon find out the way." 
 
 "And she said," added Grace, "that desiring 
 and thinking were of no account unless doing 
 were added. And that's just what has come 
 into my mind about this poor baby. You say 
 that wishing isn't of any use. It doesn't give 
 clean faces and clean clothes. But thinking and 
 doing may. Let us think a little, Phoebe. May 
 be we can do something. Why, the way is clear 
 already ! " 
 
 And Grace clapped her hands together. 
 
 "How is it clear?" asked Phoebe. 
 
 "Just listen. Mother's got plenty of old 
 muslin, and calico, and linen ; and if we ask 
 her, I know she'll be glad to let us make some 
 slips and aprons for this poor baby. She'll 
 cut them out for us, and we can make a slip 
 and an apron this very afternoon and evening, 
 after we've got our lessons. Then to-morrow

 
 WISHING AND DOING. 127 
 
 we can come and wash the baby, and dress it 
 up. O, won't that be elegant?" 
 
 And Grace clapped her hands again. 
 
 "The very thing !" answered Phoebe. "And 
 it will be so nice ! It's a sweet baby, and when 
 clean and dressed up will be lovely." 
 
 So the good wishes of the children had set 
 their minds to thinking, and thinking made the 
 way plain for doing. Their mother was so well 
 pleased, when they told her about the baby, and 
 what they wanted to do for it, that she helped 
 them with their lessons for the next day, and 
 then cut out a slip and an apron, and set them 
 to work. 
 
 " Dear children ! " said the mother to herself, 
 as she looked in upon them every now and then, 
 and watched their grave, sweet faces and nimble 
 fingers. "Angels are very near to you, my 
 precious ones ; for only they would suggest 
 such work as this." 
 
 On the next day, as Grace and Phcebe hurried 
 home from school, they passed the mean hovel 
 where they had noticed the baby. The door 
 was shut, so they did not see the poor little
 
 128 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 
 
 one, but they heard it crying sadly. In an 
 hour afterwards they came back, Phoebe carry 
 ing a clean new slip, an apron, a petticoat, and 
 a pair of shoes and stockings ; and Grace with 
 a basket, in which were a bottle of milk and 
 some soft biscuits, besides soap, towels, and a 
 brush and comb. 
 
 As they drew near they again heard the baby's 
 wailing cry. On opening the door of the hut 
 they found the poor little thing sitting alone on 
 the floor. It stopped crying the moment it saw 
 the children, and held out its tiny hands. 
 
 "O, you poor darling!" exclaimed Grace, in 
 a voice of pity. 
 
 "Where's its mother?" asked Phoebe. "She 
 can't have left it shut up here all alone ! " 
 
 But no mother was to be found. She was 
 away at one of the neighboring houses at 
 work. 
 
 "What a busy, bustling time there was ! Phcebe 
 got a pail of water, and Grace stripped off the 
 dirty rags that covered the baby, and soon had 
 its soft skin white and clean. Then she put on 
 a little new shirt, and a muslin petticoat, and a
 
 WISHING AND DOING. 
 
 slip of blue and white chintz. Stockings and 
 shoes came next, and then the golden hair was 
 combed and curled. 
 
 "O, but isn't he sweet?" cried Phoebe, as she 
 stood off at a little distance and looked at the 
 baby, all dressed so clean and neat, on her sis 
 ter's lap. 
 
 How pleased and happy the child was ! Ever 
 since he could know anything he had suffered 
 from neglect. Such tender interest, such lovin^ 
 
 o o 
 
 tones and words they were strange as new, 
 and very sweet and comforting. 
 
 A carriage containing a lady, young and 
 beautiful, but with a pale, sad face, drew 
 near. 
 
 " O, what a dear babe ! " said the lady, as the 
 carriage stopped. Grace and Phosbe had brought 
 him to the door. She held out her arms, and 
 the children let her take the baby into the car 
 riage. 
 
 " Sweet ! Sweet ! O, such a darling sweet 
 
 one ! " cried the lady, almost wildly, yet with 
 
 deep tenderness in her voice ; and she hugged 
 
 it closely to her bosom. "I had just such se 
 
 9
 
 130 NOT ANYTHING FOE PEACE. 
 
 baby," she said, "but he left me and went to 
 heaven." And then her eyes got full of tears. 
 
 "Whose is it?" she asked, still holding him 
 in her arms. 
 
 Then Grace and Phoebe told her all about his 
 sad and neglected life, and what they had done. 
 And the lady wept as she bent over and kissed 
 the baby that lay very still against her bosom, 
 with his large brown eyes fixed earnestly, and 
 with a kind of pleading surprise, on her face. 
 
 " There's his mother now," Grace spoke, sud 
 denly, pointing as she did so to a woman with 
 coarse, hard features coming down the road. It 
 was too plain that she had been drinking. The 
 lady waited until she came up, and then said to 
 her, in a kind voice, 
 
 " AfeyoiT very poor, ma'am?" 
 
 "Poor as poverty," answered the woman, in a 
 blunt, rough way. 
 
 " You have a baby ? " 
 
 " Yes, and sorry the day it was born ! I can't 
 stay with it and starve, nor take it with me into 
 people's houses when I go out to work. And 
 so I have to leave it crying, and come back to it
 
 WISHING AND DOING. 
 
 crying ; and all day long I hear it crying, though 
 sometimes I'm a mile away. It wasn't born with 
 a silver spoon in its mouth, like the pretty baby 
 in your arms, ma'am." 
 
 "What if I should offer to take your baby 
 and care for him just as if he were my own?" 
 said the lady. 
 
 "I'd say, 'Yes, and God bless you, ma'am!' 
 for the baby's sake," answered the woman, 
 quickly. "He's no comfort to one like me, 
 and no comfort to himself; and I worry all day, 
 when I'm out washing and scrubbing, for fear 
 something will happen to him." 
 
 The lady spoke to the driver, and in a mo 
 ment after the carriage was rolling swiftly 
 away. 
 
 " No such good luck for baby or me ! " ex 
 claimed the woman, in a half angry, disap 
 pointed voice. 
 
 "It was your baby in the carriage," said 
 Grace. 
 
 "My baby!" There came a sudden, wild, 
 flashing light into the woman's eyes, and the 
 children saw that she trembled all over. For
 
 132 NOT ANYTHING FOE PEACE. 
 
 a little while she stood looking after the car 
 riage ; then she ran into her cottage. All was 
 at once plain to her; for there were the old 
 dirty rags of her child, and the pail of water, 
 and towels, and brush, by means of which he 
 had been transformed from an object of loathing 
 to one of beauty. 
 
 " Children ! " said the woman, in so stern a 
 voice that they grew frightened, " is it true what 
 you say ? Was that my baby in the carriage ? " 
 
 " It was your baby," they answered. " We 
 had washed and dressed him all up so sweetly ; 
 and just then the lady came along, and took 
 him iu her arms, and cried over him, and said 
 she had a dear baby like him in heaven." 
 
 The woman put both hands over her face, and, 
 sitting down, sobbed and moaned for a good 
 while. The children stood looking on, not 
 knowing what to do or say. At last she got 
 up, and went about her miserable room in a 
 confused manner. 
 
 " I wonder if it isn't all a dream ! " she said, 
 stopping before the children. " What did you 
 say? It was my baby dressed up so fine, and 
 sitting in the lady's lap ? "
 
 WISHING AND DOING. 133 
 
 "It was your baby," they said again. 
 
 "I'm thankful for the baby's sake," she mur 
 mured, in a low voice, half broken by a sob. 
 " She'll be kind to it, I know by her looks." 
 
 Then the children went home, and told their 
 wondering mother all that had happened. On 
 the next morning, -as they passed the poor 
 hovel on their way to school, it was shut ; and 
 so it remained day after day. They never saw 
 the poor woman again. She had gone out of 
 the neighborhood. Six months afterwards she 
 died in an almshouse. But the child had love 
 and tender care, and all the pure joys of baby 
 hood in a new and happy home.
 
 134 NOT ANYTHING FOE PEACE. 
 
 III. 
 
 KILLING AN ENEMY. 
 
 " THAT man will be the death of me yet," said 
 Paul Levering. 
 
 He looked worried, but not angry. 
 
 " Thee means Dick Hardy? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " What has he been doing to thee now ? " 
 
 The questioner was a Friend, named Isaac 
 Martin a neighbor. 
 
 "He's always doing something, friend Martin. 
 Scarcely a day passes that I don't have complaint 
 of him. Yesterday one of the boys came and 
 told me that he saw him throw a stone at my 
 new Durham cow, and strike her in the head." 
 
 " That's very bad, friend Levering. Does 
 thee know why he did this? Was thy Dur 
 ham trespassing on his grounds?" 
 
 " No, she was only looking over his fence. He 
 has a spite against me and mine, and does all he
 
 KILLING AN ENEMY. 135 
 
 can to injure me. You know the fine Bartlett 
 pear tree, that stands in the corner of my lot 
 adjoining his property?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Two large limbs, full of fruit, stretched over 
 on his side. You would hardly believe it, but 
 it's true. I was out there just now, and discov 
 ered that he had sawed oif these two fine limbs 
 that hung over on his side. They lay down upon 
 the ground, and his pigs were eating the fruit." 
 
 " Why is Dick so spiteful to thee, friend Lev 
 ering? He doesn't annoy me. What has thee 
 done to him ? " 
 
 " Nothing of any consequence." 
 
 " Thee must have done something. Try and 
 remember." 
 
 " I know what first set him out. I kicked an 
 ugly dog of his once. The beast, half starved 
 at home, I suppose, was all the while prowling 
 about here, and snatching up everything that 
 came in his way. One day I came upon him 
 suddenly, and gave him a tremendous kick that 
 sent him howling through the <? a te. Unfortu- 
 
 o o o 
 
 nately, as it has turned out, the dog's master
 
 136 NOT ANYTHING FOE PEACE. 
 
 happened to be passing along the road. The 
 way he swore at me was dreadful. I never saw 
 a more vindictive face. On the next morning, a 
 splendid Newfoundland, that I had raised from a 
 pup, met me shivering at the door, with his tail 
 cut off ! I don't know when I have felt so badly. 
 Poor fellow ! his piteous look haunts me now. 
 I had no proof against Dick, but have never 
 doubted as to his agency in the matter. In my 
 grief and indignation I shot the dog, and so put 
 him out of my sight." 
 
 "Thee was hasty in that, friend Levering," 
 said the Quaker. 
 
 "Perhaps I was, though I have never repented 
 the act. I met Dick a few days afterwards. 
 The grin of satisfaction on his face I accepted 
 as an acknowledgment of his mean and cruel 
 revenge. Within a week from that time one of 
 my cows had a horn knocked off." 
 
 "What did thee do?" 
 
 " I went to Dick Hardy, and gave him a piece 
 of my mind." 
 
 " That is, thee scolded, and called hard names, 
 and threatened."
 
 KILLING AN ENEMY. 137 
 
 "Yes just so, friend Martin." 
 
 " Did any good come of it ? " 
 
 " About as much good as if I had whistled to 
 the wind." 
 
 " How has it been since ? " 
 
 "No change for the better. It grows, if any 
 thing, worse and worse. Dick never gets weary 
 of annoying me." 
 
 " Has thee ever tried the law with him, friend 
 Levering? The law should protect thee." 
 
 "O, yes, I've tried the law. Once he ran his 
 heavy wagon against my carriage, purposely, 
 and upset me in the road. I made a narrow 
 escape of my life. The carriage was so badly 
 broken that it cost me fifty dollars for repairs. 
 A neighbor saw the whole thing, and said it 
 was plainly intended by Dick. So I sent him 
 the carriage maker's bill, at which he got into a 
 towering passion. Then I threatened him with 
 prosecution, and he laughed in my face malig 
 nantly. I felt that the time had come to act 
 decisively, and sued him, relying on the evidence 
 of my neighbor who had seen the affair . But 
 my neighbor was afraid of Dick, and so worked
 
 138 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 
 
 his testimony that the jury saw only an accident 
 instead of a purpose to injure, and gave their 
 verdict accordingly. After that Dick Hardy 
 was worse than ever. He took an evil delight 
 in annoying and injuring me. I am satisfied 
 that in more than one instance he left gaps in 
 his fences in order to entice my cattle into his 
 fields, that he might set his savage dogs on them, 
 and hurt them with stones. It is more than a 
 child of mine dares to cross his premises. Only 
 last week he tried to put his dog on rny little 
 Florence, who strayed into one of his fields after 
 buttercups. The dog was less cruel than his 
 master, or she would have been torn by his teeth, 
 instead of being only frightened by his bark." 
 
 "It's a hard case, truly, friend Levering. 
 Our neighbor Hardy seems possessed of an evil 
 spirit." 
 
 "The very spirit of the devil," was answered, 
 with feeling. 
 
 " He's thy enemy, assuredly ; and if thee 
 doesn't get rid of him, will do thee greater 
 harm." 
 
 " I wish I could get rid of him."
 
 KILLING AN ENEMY. 139 
 
 "Thee must, if thee would dwell in safety, 
 friend Levering." 
 
 The Quaker's face was growing very serious. 
 He spoke in a lowered voice, and bent towards 
 his neighbor in a confidential manner. 
 
 " Thee must put him out of the way." 
 
 " Friend Martin I " The surprise of Paul 
 Levering was unfeigned. 
 
 Thee must kill him I " 
 
 The countenance of Levering grew blank with 
 astonishment. 
 
 " Kill him ! " he ejaculated. 
 
 "If thee doesn't kill him, he'll certainly kill 
 thce, one of these days, friend Levering. And 
 thee knows what is said about self-preservation 
 being the first law of nature." 
 
 " And get hung ! " 
 
 "I don't think they'll hang thee," coolly re 
 turned the Quaker. " Thee can go over to his 
 place, and get him all alone by thyself. Or 
 thee can meet him in some by-road. Nobody 
 need see thee ; and when he's dead, / think 
 people will be more glad than sorry. Thee 
 needn't fear any bad consequences."
 
 140 NOT ANYTHING FOE PEACE. 
 
 " Do you think I'm no better than a murder 
 er ? " Levering's astonishment passed to horror 
 and indignation. "I, Paul Levering, stain my 
 hands with blood?" 
 
 " Who said anything about staining thy hands 
 with blood?" The Quaker was imperturbable. 
 
 Why, you ! " 
 
 "Thee's mistaken. I never used the word 
 blood." 
 
 " But you meant it. You suggested murder." 
 
 " No, friend Levering. I advised thee to kill 
 the enemy, lest, some day, he should kill thee." 
 
 " Isn't killing murder, I should like to know ? " 
 demanded Levering. 
 
 " There are more ways to kill an enemy than 
 one," said the Quaker. "I've killed a good 
 many in my time, but no stain of blood can be 
 found on my garments. My way of killing 
 enemies is to make them my friends. Kill 
 neighbor Hardy with kindness, and thee'll have 
 no more trouble with him." 
 
 A sudden light gleamed over Mr. Levering's 
 face, as if a cloud had passed from the sun of 
 his spirit.
 
 KILLING AN ENEMY. 
 
 " A new way to kill people." 
 
 "The surest way to kill enemies, as thee'll 
 find, if thee'll only try." 
 
 "Let me see. How shall I go about it?" said 
 Paul Levering, taken at once with the idea. 
 
 " If thee has the will, friend Levering, it will 
 not be long before thee finds the way." 
 
 And so it proved. Not two hours afterwards, 
 as Mr. Levering was driving into the village, he 
 found Dick Hardy with a stalled cart-load of 
 stone. He was whipping his horse, and swear 
 ing at him passionately ; but to no good pur 
 pose. The cart-wheels were buried half way to 
 the axle in stiff mud, and defied the strength of 
 one horse to move them. On seeing Mr. Lever 
 ing, Dick stopped pulling and swearing; and 
 getting on to the cart, with his back towards 
 his neighbor, commenced pitching the stones 
 off into the middle of the road. 
 
 "Hold on a bit, friend Hardy," said Levering, 
 in a pleasant voice, as he dismounted, and com 
 menced unhitching his horse. 
 
 But Dick, pretending not to hear him, kept 
 on pitching out the stones.
 
 142 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 
 
 " Hold on, I say, and don't give yourself all 
 that trouble," added Mr. Levering, speaking in 
 a louder voice, but in kind and cheerful tones. 
 " Two horses are better than one. With Char 
 ley's help, we'll soon have the wheels on good 
 solid ground again." 
 
 Understanding now what was meant, Dick's 
 hands fell almost nerveless by his side. 
 
 "There," said Levering, as he put his horse 
 in front of Dick's, and made the traces fast, 
 "one pull, and the thing's done!" 
 
 And before Dick could get down from the 
 cart, it was out of the mud hole. 
 
 Without saying a word more, Levering un 
 fastened his horse from the front of Dick's 
 animal, and, hitching up again, rode on. 
 
 On the next day Mr. Levering saw Dick 
 Hardy in the act of strengthening a bit of 
 weak fence through which his (Levcring's) 
 cattle had broken once or twice ; thus remov 
 ing a temptation, and saving the .animals from 
 being beaten and set on by dogs. 
 
 "Thee's given him a bad wound, friend Lev 
 ering," said the Quaker, on getting information
 
 KILLING AN ENEMY. 143 
 
 of the two incidents just mentioned ; " and it 
 will be thy own fault if thee doesn't kill him 
 outright." 
 
 Not long afterwards, in the face of an ap 
 proaching storm, and while Dick Hardy was 
 hurrying to get in some clover hay, his wagon 
 broke down. Mr. Levering, who saw from one 
 of his fields the accident, and understood what 
 loss it might occasion, hitched up his own 
 wagon, and sent it over to Dick's assistance. 
 With a storm coming on that might last for 
 days, and ruin from two to three tons of hay, 
 Dick could not decline the offer, though it went 
 terribly against the grain to accept a favor from 
 the man he had hated for years, and injured in 
 so many ways. 
 
 On the following morning Mr. Levering had 
 a visit from Dick Hardy. It was raining 
 fast. 
 
 "I've come," said Dick, stammering and con 
 fused, and looking down at the ground instead 
 of into Mr. Levcring's face, " to pay you for 
 the use of your team yesterday in getting in 
 my hay. I should have lost it if you hadn't sent
 
 144 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 
 
 your wagon, and it's only right that I should pay 
 for the use of it." 
 
 "I should be very sorry," answered Paul Lev 
 ering, cheerily, "if I couldn't do a neighborly 
 turn without pay. You were right welcome, 
 friend Hardy, to the wagon. I am more than 
 paid in knowing that you saved that nice field 
 of clover. How much did you get?" 
 
 "About three tons. But, Mr. Levering, I 
 must " 
 
 "Not a word, if you don't want to offend me," 
 interposed Levering. "I trust there isn't a .man 
 around here that wouldn't do as much for a 
 neighbor in time of need. Still, if you feel 
 embarrassed if you don't wish to stand my 
 debtor pay me in good will." 
 
 Dick Hardy raised his eyes from the ground 
 slowly, and looked, in a strange, wondering way, 
 at Mr. Levering. 
 
 " Shall we not be friends ? " Mr. Levering 
 reached out his hand. Hardy grasped it with 
 a quick, short grip ; then, as if to hide feel 
 ings that were becoming too strong, dropped it, 
 and went off hastily.
 
 KILLING AN ENEMY. 145 
 
 " Thee's killed him ! " said the Quaker, on his 
 next meeting with Levering ; " thy enemy is 
 dead ! " 
 
 " Slain by the weapons of kindness," answered 
 Paul Levering, " which you supplied." 
 
 "No, thee took them from God's armory, 
 where all men may equip themselves without 
 charge, and become invincible," replied the 
 Quaker. "And I trust, for thy own peace 
 and safety, thee will never use any other 
 weapons in fighting with thy neighbors. They 
 are sure to kill." 
 
 10
 
 146 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 
 
 IV., 
 
 THE BARGAINS. 
 
 JAMES ! " 
 
 Sir." 
 
 To-morrow is going to be a hard day with 
 me. I shall have to pay about three thousand 
 dollars in bank, besides a good deal of bor 
 rowed money. It will be necessary for you to 
 sell as many goods as possible." 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 " Sell at a profit, if you can. But sell, any 
 how." 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 The storekeeper remained for some moments 
 silent, and then said, 
 
 " Even if you have to take less than cost, sell. 
 It will be much better than paying two per cent. 
 a month." 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 Further instructions were prevented by the 
 entrance of a customer.
 
 THE BARGAINS. 147 
 
 "Let me look at some of your thread lace, 
 sir," said the lady, addressing the clerk, and 
 seating herself, at the same time, quite leisurely 
 by the side of the counter. 
 
 A box of laces was handed down briskly, 
 the cover removed, and some twenty or thirty 
 pieces, of all prices, patterns, and qualities, dis 
 played to the eyes of the customer. 
 
 "A beautiful article," the clerk remarked, lift 
 ing a piece. " We have the best assortment in 
 the city." 
 
 "Very pretty," the lady said, musingly, pro 
 ceeding to examine piece after piece, until she 
 had gone entirely through the box. 
 
 "Have you no other?" she then asked, with 
 a smile and a bow, looking up innocently into 
 the face of the clerk, who had stood patiently 
 awaiting her selection from the very choice pat 
 terns before her. 
 
 "None, except of a very inferior quality, Mrs. 
 Shannon." 
 
 " Let me look at them, if you please." 
 
 Another box was taken down, and a great 
 portion of its contents turned out upon the
 
 148 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 
 
 counter, when Mrs. Shannon discovered that 
 none of the patterns in either box pleased her. 
 
 "They are very beautiful, Mrs. Shannon, and 
 we will sell low," said the storekeeper, now com 
 ing forward. "I am sure you will not meet with 
 a finer assortment anywhere." 
 
 " I don't know, Mr. Bradley, but I think Dra 
 per and Cordovan have a much better assort 
 ment. What do you ask for this?" lifting, as 
 she spoke, with a careless, indifferent air, a 
 piece of lace of exquisite fineness. 
 
 "That is four dollars a yard, Mrs. Shannon. 
 And it is very cheap at that, I do assure you." 
 
 "O, dear, no, Mr. Bradley ! I saw a piece at 
 Griffith's much finer for three dollars." 
 
 "You must have mistaken the quality, ma'am. 
 We bought our laces at the same house in IS T c\v 
 York, and paid the same prices. Now this arti 
 cle cost me every cent of three dollars and three 
 quarters a yard by the piece. I have asked you 
 only enough to cover the cost and charges, be 
 cause I am anxious to sell. These are close 
 times, ma'am, and we are all anxious to turn 
 our .goods into money as quickly as possible."
 
 THE BARGAINS. 149 
 
 And Mr. Bradley attempted to smile with a 
 pleasant air, but the effort was a failure. The 
 customer's quick eye detected the counterfeit, 
 and readily took her cue. Shaking her head 
 with a knowing air, she replied, 
 
 "It's no use to tell me, Mr. Bradley, that I 
 don't know the quality of a piece of lace. I 
 have seen too much in my time. Griffith's piece 
 of lace at three dollars I would just as soon 
 have as this." 
 
 The storekeeper stood musing for a few mo 
 ments, and then said, 
 
 " How much of it did you want, ma'am ! " 
 
 " Only a few yards, sir." 
 
 "But how many, Mrs. Shannon?" 
 
 " O, some five or six yards." 
 
 " If you will take six yards, }^ou shall have it 
 for three dollars and a half, and that is a quarter 
 of a dollar less than it cost me." 
 
 The customer shook her head. 
 
 "I am sure that is very low, ma'am." 
 
 " I couldn't pay that much for it, Mr. Bradley. 
 It is not worth it. Griffith's is only three dol 
 lars, and if there is any difference, I like his 
 best."
 
 150 NOT ANYTHING FOE PEACE. 
 
 " I can't afford to take three dollars," said the 
 storekeeper, in a half desponding tone. 
 
 "Well, if you will take three for it, I might 
 be induced to buy half a dozen yards or so. I 
 don't care a great deal abou^t, but am willing 
 to give that, and no more." 
 
 The storekeeper hesitated a few moments. 
 "Three times six are eighteen," he said to him 
 self. " Eighteen dollars are too much to let go 
 out of the store, and I so hard run. 
 
 "You can have it, ma'am, though it's actually 
 throwing the goods away ! " he at length said, in 
 a tone and with a manner that showed the real 
 reluctance he felt in sacrificing his goods. 
 
 "You can measure off six yards, then," the 
 customer responded. 
 
 The six yards of lace were accordingly cut off 
 and handed to Mrs. Shannon, with the stereo 
 typed question, 
 
 " Is there any thing else that I can. show you, 
 ma'am ? " 
 
 "Have you a handsome assortment of silks?" 
 
 "Yes, ma'am; a large and beautiful assort 
 ment. What color would you like ? "
 
 THE BARGAINS. 151 
 
 "Let me look at a few pieces. I have hardly 
 made up my mind yet." 
 
 Piece after piece was now taken down, opened, 
 and the beautiful material within displayed. 
 Each passed, iutarn, a careful examination, and 
 each was suce^J^ftly tossed aside with an air of 
 dissatisfaction at the result. 
 
 "Don't you like any of those, Mrs. Shannon?" 
 asked Mr. Bradley. 
 
 "No, sir." 
 
 " Are they not fine enough in quality ? " 
 
 " Not so fine as I wish. I always like the very 
 best of everything." 
 
 " I have a beautiful piece of plain colored Groa 
 d'Afrique." 
 
 " Let me see that, Mr. Bradley," and the cus 
 tomer's face brightened. 
 
 The plain colored Gros d'Afrique was handed 
 down from the shelf, and its shining folds opened 
 to the eye of Mrs. Shannon. 
 
 " Is not that beautiful, ma'am ? I think I have 
 never seen so rich a piece of goods." 
 
 " It is handsome, Mr. Bradley. What is the 
 price ? "
 
 152 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 
 
 " This piece of goods cost me three dollars a 
 yard, and I will sell it for cost, if you will take 
 the whole of it." 
 
 " How much is there in the piece ? ' ? 
 
 "Fifteen yards." 
 
 Mrs. Shannon shook her 
 
 "It is very low, ma'am." 
 
 "Indeed, I think it high." 
 
 "I'll give you two and three quarters for all 
 you will bring me, ma'am." 
 
 Mrs Shannon again referred to the silk, hold 
 ing it up to the light, examining the thread, and 
 noting its rich lustre. 
 
 " You will take two for it, I know, Mr. Brad 
 ley," the customer said, with a captivating smile. 
 
 "No, ma'am, not of any one's money," was 
 the positive reply. 
 
 " I'll give you two for it." 
 
 "I cannot take that, Mrs. Shannon. Only 
 think, ma'am, it cost me three dollars. Surely 
 you do not wish to get my goods at a price that 
 would leave me a serious loss?" 
 
 " If you will sell it at two dollars, I will take 
 the whole piece, Mr. Bradley."
 
 THE BARGAINS. 153 
 
 "Indeed, ma'ana, that is too hard. I should 
 prefer leaving the goods on my shelf to selling at 
 that rate." 
 
 And the storekeeper commenced folding the 
 silk, and replacuur it in its paper envelope, in 
 quite an earnesHpusiness-like manner. There 
 was a brief silence, broken only by the rustling 
 of the Gros d'Afrique, when Mrs. Shannon 
 said, 
 
 " If you will sell the piece for two and a half, 
 I will take it." 
 
 Mr. Bradley paused, looked upward, as if 
 engaged in calculation, and then drawing a long 
 sigh, said, 
 
 " Well, I suppose you must have it, Mrs. Shan 
 non, but it is a terrible sacrifice." 
 
 "It's not dear at that price, certainly," Mrs. 
 Shannon remarked, in a quiet, satisfied tone, 
 and with a self-complacent air. 
 
 The silk was measured oft' and folded up. 
 
 "Have you any handsome shawls?" Mrs. 
 Shannon now asked ; " I shall want one this fall." 
 
 " We opened a case yesterday of most superb 
 embroidered crape, just from New York."
 
 154 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 
 
 "Let mo look at them," said the customer; 
 " not that I wish to purchase this moruiug, but I 
 should like to see some shawls, so that I can 
 make up my mind when I come to buy." 
 
 "O, certainly, ma'am." 
 
 And the storekeeper displRd several really 
 beautiful articles. 
 
 "What do you ask for this?" referring to one 
 o; very rich pattern. 
 
 " We cannot sell that shawl for less than one 
 hundred and fifty dollars, Mrs. Shannon." 
 
 " One hundred and fifty dollars ! " in tones of 
 astonishment. 
 
 "Why, that is very low for such a superb arti 
 cle. We sold one of the same style precisely to 
 Mrs. General Harper yesterday, immediately on 
 opening the case, for one hundred and sixty 
 dollars, and this is the match one to it. I ask 
 you but one hundred and fifty, because I know 
 you deal close, and wish to accommodate myself 
 as far as I possibly can to your views. Mrs. 
 Colonel Jenkins was with Mrs. General Harper, 
 and liked the shawl so much that she thought 
 she would come in to-day and buy it. But as
 
 THE BARGAINS. 155 
 
 she did not engage it, I do not feel bound to 
 retain it for her, if you are pleased with both the 
 shawl and the price." 
 
 "I think the shawl most beautiful, Mr. Brad 
 ley, but really thoprice is enormous." 
 
 "I make uotSlg on it, I do assure you, 
 
 ma'am." 
 
 t 
 
 " Won't you take sometjiiug less for it, Mr. 
 Bradley." 
 
 " I can't, indeed, ma'am." 
 
 "You'll take a hundred and twenty-five, I 
 know." 
 
 " That would be doing a poor business, Mrs. 
 Shannon. I had better shut up my store at 
 once." 
 
 " Say one hundred and twenty-five, and you 
 may send it home." 
 
 "Well, I don't care! I hate to disoblige a 
 good customer. Take it along. But it won't 
 do for me to sacrifice my goods in this way 
 every day. If I do, I shall go to the wall be 
 fore three mouths. Shall I show you anything 
 else, ma'am?" 
 
 "Nothing more, I believe. How much do all 
 these come to? "
 
 156 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 
 
 " One hundred and twenty-five dollars for the 
 shawl, thirty-seven and a half for the silk, and 
 eighteen for the lace one hundred and eighty 
 dollars and fifty cents, ma'am." 
 
 " That's a pretty heavy l^. Call it one 
 hundred and seventy-five crollars, even, Mr. 
 Bradley." 
 
 "That would be too hard, indeed, Mrs. Shan 
 non," and the storekeeper shook his head, for 
 cing a smile on his countenance at the same time. 
 
 "Here's just one hundred and seventy-five 
 dollars, even money, Mr. Bradley. You'll take 
 that, I know," and Mrs. Shannon smiled with an 
 arch, self-complacent air. "Indeed, it's all that 
 I will give you so you might as well take it 
 with a good grace." 
 
 "Well, if I must, I suppose I must, Mrs. 
 Shannon. But, indeed, you are too hard on 
 me." 
 
 And as he said this he counted over the 
 money, and threw it into the drawer. 
 
 " Will you send the goods home at once ? " 
 asked Mrs. Shannon. 
 
 " They shall go home immediately, ma'am."
 
 THE BARGAINS. 157 
 
 And then the customer made her bow and de 
 parted, delighted with the great bargains she had 
 made out of the storekeeper. 
 
 As she withdrew, Mr. Bradley glanced know 
 ingly at his principal salesman, and said, with a 
 smile, 
 
 "Did you see that operation, James?" 
 
 O, yes. That was delightful ! " 
 
 " That shawl cost sixty dollars." 
 
 "Yes, I remember." 
 
 "And the silk a dollar and a quarter a yard. 
 I lost on the lace, but made it up handsomely on 
 the other articles." 
 
 " Rather too handsomely," the clerk remarked, 
 smiling in return. 
 
 "Well, it was her own fault, James. If I had 
 asked her a fair price, she would have beaten me 
 down, so that I would have been compelled to 
 lose the sale or lose my profits. I had forgotten 
 her real character when I asked her but four 
 dollars a yard for the lace. Had I said six dol 
 lars, I could have got four and a half easily. 
 
 " It's the only way to deal with such people. 
 As a general rule, I can get more for an article
 
 158 NOT ANYTHING FOE PEACE. 
 
 out of one of your real jewing customers, than 
 out of a fair dealer, who buys at the price you 
 name, if she buys at all." 
 
 " Yes, that is the only way to get along, and I 
 believe nearly every retailer does the same." 
 
 "O, yes ; it's the ordinary practice." 
 
 A customer here interrupted the conversation, 
 and we are unable further to enlighten the reader 
 on the subject under consideration by Mr. Brad 
 ley and his salesman. Enough, however, trans 
 pired to give a word to the wise. 
 
 In the mean time Mrs. Shannon returned 
 home, and awaited, with some impatience, the 
 arrival of her purchases. They were brought 
 home in the course of an hour, and in a few 
 minutes after a friend, an elderly lady, named 
 Mrs. Cleveland, called to see Mrs. Shannon. 
 
 "Ah, good morning, Mrs. Cleveland, I am 
 glad to see you. I've been out shopping this 
 morning, and have made some rare purchases." 
 
 " Have you, indeed?" 
 
 " That I have. Just look at this splendid 
 shawl." 
 
 "It is very beautiful, indeed, Mrs. Shannon."
 
 THE BAKGAINS. 159 
 
 "Ain't it? And what is better, I got it for 
 something like twenty-five dollars less than 
 cost." 
 
 "For less than cost!" Mrs. Cleveland asked, 
 in tones of astonishment. 
 
 "Yes, indeed. The storekeeper said he made 
 nothing at all on it at one hundred and fifty dol 
 lars. But I beat him down to one hundred and 
 twenty-five. I saw plain enough that he was 
 pushed for money, and would sell his goods at 
 almost any price. It was only yesterday that 
 Mrs. General Harper bought the fellow to it at 
 one hundred and sixty dollars. Mrs. Colonel 
 Jenkins wanted this one, and I have no doubt 
 would have taken it to-day, at the same price 
 paid by her friend Mrs. General Harper. When 
 I heard that, I determined to have it, and so 
 made my offer. Bradley thought a bird in the 
 hand worth two in the bush. How disappointed 
 Mrs. Colonel Jenkins will be when she finds the 
 shawl gone ! I am so glad I happened to see it 
 before she called again. And just look at this 
 elegant pattern of Gros d'Afrique. It cost 
 three dollars, and was cheap at that price.
 
 160 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 
 
 Rather than have missed it, I would have given 
 three and a quarter for it. Now what do you 
 think I got it for?" 
 
 "Really, I do not know, Mrs. Shannon." 
 
 " Well, I got it for two dollars and a half 
 far below cost." 
 
 "You did ! " with a grave countenance. 
 
 "Yes, indeed. I saw that he would sell at al 
 most any price, and so I beat him down hard. 
 I could have obtained this piece of goods at two 
 dollars a yard if I had held out a little longer." 
 
 "But don't you think it wrong to do so, Mrs. 
 Shannon?!' 
 
 " Wrong ! " with a look and tone of astonish 
 ment. " Wrong ! How in the world can you 
 make it wrong ? " 
 
 "Why, wrong, Mrs. Shannon, to ask a man to 
 take less for his goods than they cost him, par 
 ticularly when the goods are actually worth all 
 that is asked for them?" 
 
 "Really, Mrs. Cleveland, I cannot understand 
 you. I think it right, indeed, commendable, for 
 every one to purchase goods as low as possible." 
 
 " But is it right to have so little regard for the
 
 THE BARGAINS. 161 
 
 interests of others as to take advantage of their 
 necessities to their injury? Really, I cannot see 
 it to be right." 
 
 "I am sure, Mrs. Cleveland, that I can see no 
 reason why I should pay a man more for an arti 
 cle than he is willing to take. Indeed, as it 
 appears to me, I have nothing to do with his 
 concerns. If he sells below cost, it is his look 
 out, not mine." 
 
 " I cannot take the same view of things that 
 you do, Mrs. Shannon. It seems to me that we 
 should regard as carefully the interests of others 
 as our own in dealing with them. Instead of 
 being willing to buy an article at less than its 
 real cost, when that cost is not above the market 
 value, it seems to me that we ought to refuse to 
 take that advantage, even if offered to us." 
 
 "Why, Mrs. Cleveland! I never heard of 
 such a thing ! I should call that cheating one's 
 self." 
 
 "Not at all, Mrs. Shannon. It would be 
 simply doing by others as we would wish others 
 to do by us. It would be acting towards our 
 neighbor from a principle of true charity." 
 11
 
 162 NOT ANYTHING FOE PEACE. 
 
 "If you act from that principle, Mrs. Cleve 
 land, you will be cheated at every turn." 
 
 " I differ from you. There is in the minds of 
 most persons a wish to deal openly and fairly. 
 A close customer makes a close salesman. I 
 have no doubt that in most cases where persons 
 cheapen goods, they are ultimately made to pay 
 more for them than they are really worth." 
 
 "Well, I can tell you that I always cheapen 
 when I buy, and I know very well that I never 
 pay too much for an article." 
 
 Mrs. Cleveland smiled meaningly. 
 
 "You needn't laugh, Mrs. Cleveland. I know 
 that no one pays less for dry goods than I 
 do." 
 
 "There you are mistaken, Mrs. Shannon. As, 
 for instance, in the case of this beautiful piece 
 of Gros d'Afrique. It was only yesterday that 
 I bought tw r elve yards of that very piece from 
 Bradley, at two dollars a yard, which was all he 
 asked me for it." 
 
 "That cannot be, Mrs. Cleveland! You must 
 have bought from another piece of goods." 
 
 "No, it is the very same; I cannot be rnis-
 
 THE BAKGAINS. 163 
 
 taken in the article. And now I remember that 
 he said there were just fifteen yards left." 
 
 Mrs. Shannon's countenance fell instantly, and 
 then grew red with indignation. 
 
 "Then he has cheated me shamefully!" she 
 exclaimed, "and I'll make him refund me the 
 half dollar on each yard." 
 
 " Say, rather, Mrs. Shannon," remarked her 
 plain-spoken friend, "that you have cheated your 
 self. Mr. Bradley put the price up, because he 
 knew that, ask what he would, you would never 
 buy without beating down. It has happened 
 that you did not beat down hard enough, and so 
 had to pay for your error." 
 
 " But it's downright cheating, Mrs. Cleveland, 
 and I'll expose him." 
 
 "If it is wrong for Mr. Bradley to take advan 
 tage of your ignorance, and receive from you 
 more than an article is really worth, it is no less 
 wrong for you to take advantage of his neces 
 sities, and pay him less than the article cost 
 him. As I look at matters and things, the 
 wrong is equal." 
 
 "I don't see it as you do, Mrs. Cleveland. I
 
 164 NOT ANYTHING FOE PEACE. 
 
 do not compel a storekeeper to take less than 
 cost for his goods. I tell him what I will give, 
 and he is at liberty to sell on the terms I pro 
 pose or not." 
 
 " Still, Mrs. Shannon, his necessity is his com 
 pulsion, and of this you take advantage." 
 
 "But for me to pay him a profit on his goods, 
 when he is willing to sell below cost, would be a 
 little too generous, it seems to me." 
 
 " He is not ivilling, but compelled; and surely 
 it would be noble in any one to regard his cir 
 cumstances, and take no advantage of it." 
 
 "As I said before, I cannot see it as you do, 
 Mrs. Cleveland." 
 
 "I feel anxious that you should see it as I do, 
 Mrs. Shannon ; and, therefore, I will try to 
 make it plainer to you. Imagine yourself a 
 widow, compelled to do some kind of business 
 for the support of your family. You set up, 
 with a small capital, a dry goods store. Your 
 capital is not sufficient to buy a good assortment, 
 and you have to make purchases on credit. For 
 a time you get on tolerably well, and are enabled 
 to make your payments without trouble. But,
 
 THE BARGAINS. 165 
 
 after a while, old goods and remnants accumu 
 late, and customers make little bills, the aggre 
 gate of which is quite an important sum to you. 
 You cannot now so readily meet your payments ; 
 and, of course, become more anxious to sell 
 goods. Rather than let a customer go out, you 
 will sometimes take cost for an article. A 
 pressing demand for money will cause you, as a 
 temporary expedient, to take even less than cost, 
 when nothing more can be obtained from one 
 who perceives your anxiety to sell, and takes 
 advantage of it. Now placing yourself in the 
 position that I have placed you, would you not 
 think it very unjust for any one thus to profit by 
 your necessities ? " 
 
 Mrs. Shannon did not reply. This was a new 
 mode of reasoning on the subject. Like too 
 many others, she could not see the bearing of 
 any rule of action until applied to herself. 
 
 "I hardly think the case parallel," she at 
 length said. 
 
 "They are precisely parallel, Mrs. Shannon. 
 A dry goods merchant does business, in most 
 cases, for the benefit of his family, the members
 
 166 NOT ANYTHING FOE PEACE. 
 
 of which are dependent upon him for a support. 
 There are but few of them who are not, at some 
 time or other, in similar difficulties to those I 
 have imagined to exist in your case. Mr. Brad 
 ley I happen to know to be in precisely that 
 situation. He is much in want of money just at 
 this time. His anxiety to sell caused him to 
 act upon what I think a false principle. He 
 knew that you would cheapen his goods, and 
 therefore he asked you a very high price. Per 
 haps, had he not been so much pressed, he would 
 have asked only a fair price, and not receded 
 from it." 
 
 Mrs. Shannon began to have a glimpse of the 
 principle of action laid down by her friend. But 
 it was only a glimpse. 
 
 " I suppose," said she, after a pause, "that my 
 shawl is not such a great bargain after all. But 
 I hardly think I have paid too much for it." 
 
 " Only fifty dollars more than Mrs. Harper 
 paid for hers." 
 
 "What?" 
 
 " I was with Mrs. Harper when she purchased 
 her shawl ; and seventy-five dollars was all that
 
 THE BARGAINS. 167 
 
 Mr. Bradley asked for it. His price was paid 
 without a word, for Mrs. Harper had the fullest 
 confidence in him. And you see now how hon 
 estly he is disposed to deal with a fair customer. 
 Mrs. Jenkins was very anxious to have the fellow 
 that you have bought, and she told me this 
 morning that her husband was willing that she 
 should buy it, and that she was going out at 
 once to secure the shawl. She has doubtless 
 before this met the disappointment that awaited 
 her. The error that you have committed, Mrs. 
 Shannon, in picking up that shawl so eagerly, 
 to prevent Mrs. Jenkins from getting it, has re 
 sulted in a disappointment to you both. I trust, 
 my friend, that you will not soon forget the les 
 son, and that its effect may be salutary." 
 
 Just then the servant handed a sealed letter, 
 which was instantly broken open by Mrs. Shan 
 non. It contained a bank bill for fifty dollars, 
 and ran thus : 
 
 " To MRS. SHANNON. MADAM : The value of 
 the shawl, that you bought of me this morning, 
 was only seventy-five dollars, at which price the
 
 168 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 
 
 profit to me is a fair one. But as I knew that 
 you would not buy it unless I fell considerably 
 on the price, I doubled it, to leave ample room 
 to come down. You did not beat down hard 
 enough, and so paid, and willingly too, fifty dol 
 lars more than it was worth. The silk you paid 
 a half dollar a yard more for than my living 
 price ; but as you got the lace at a dollar a yard 
 less than it cost me, these two items will balance 
 each other. The fifty dollars enclosed will re 
 duce the shawl to its real value. And now, 
 madam, I shall be happy to wait on you again; 
 but remember, that I shall only ask you a fair 
 profit. Do not again tempt me to adopt a prin 
 ciple of action that I cannot help feeling to be 
 wrong. 
 
 "Yours, JOHN BKADLEY." 
 
 A burning blush of shame covered the face of 
 Mrs. Shannon as she finished this letter. She 
 eat musing a few moments, and then handed it to 
 Mrs. Cleveland. On reading it, that lady re 
 marked, 
 
 " I cannot say, Mrs. Shannon, that I regret the
 
 THE BARGAINS. JG9 
 
 occurrence of this incident. It will be a lesson to 
 you that you can never forget." 
 
 "Indeed, it will. But pray, Mrs. Cleveland, 
 do not mention it. I shall be mortified to death 
 if it gets out. And, as to the shawl, tell Mrs. 
 Jenkins that she is welcome to it, if she wishes 
 to have it. Indeed, I shall never put it on, 
 that's settled." 
 
 "Do not fear that I will mention it, Mrs. 
 Shannon. I shall be far more gratified in seeing 
 you act from higher principles than such as have 
 influenced you, than in giving circulation to an 
 affair calculated to wound the feelings of a 
 friend." 
 
 "You are always kind and generous in your 
 feelings, Mrs. Cleveland. Would that I could 
 act from as high motives," Mrs. Shannon said, 
 grasping the hand of her friend, and the other 
 rose to depart. 
 
 "Try, then, to think right; and afterwards to 
 act from these true perceptions of right. In this 
 way you will gain the power to do unto others 
 as you would wish others to do unto you." 
 
 And so saying, Mrs. Cleveland shook the hand
 
 170 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 
 
 of ker friend, and turned away from her door. 
 The lesson was not lost on Mrs. Shannon. She 
 never again indulged in the evil of trying to 
 get goods at less than cost. The offer of her 
 shawl to Mrs. Jenkins was accepted, and one 
 was as willing to part with it as the other was to 
 receive it. 
 
 As for Mr. Bradley, his conscience troubled 
 him after Mrs. Shannon had left the store. 
 Fifty dollars, he felt, were too much to take 
 from her. While debating in his mind what to 
 do, a customer from the country came in, and 
 paid him an old bill of five hundred dollars. 
 This determined the question in his mind, and 
 produced the note and enclosure sent to Mrs. 
 Shannon.
 
 LITTLE MARY. 
 
 V. 
 
 LITTLE MART. 
 
 "No, darling, not to-day; the snow is too 
 deep," said her mother. 
 
 " But I want to so badly, mamma, dear ! " and 
 the sweet little face, shaded with disappoint 
 ment, looked up with a pleading expression. 
 "I'm just in my A-b abs, and I know every bit 
 of my lesson. O, I must go to school, mamma ! 
 I've got rubber shoes, and I don't care a bit for 
 the snow. Say yes that's a dear, good mam 
 ma." 
 
 "Indeed, indeed, my pet, the snow is too 
 heavy for your little feet," answered the mother. 
 
 Just then Mary's two ruddy-faced brothers, 
 John and Andrew, came stamping in at the 
 door, and shaking the snow from their feet. 
 
 "Is Mary most ready?" asked John. "It's 
 time we were off to school." 
 
 "She's too little to wade through this snow,
 
 172 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 
 
 my son," replied the mother. "I'm sorry, for 
 she wants to go so badly. But she would be 
 tired out, and might get sick." 
 
 Mary's eyes were full of tears, and John, 'who 
 loved her, couldn't bear to see it. The snow 
 was deep, and the distance to school too great 
 for the little feet of pet Mary. John, now that 
 he thought about it, understood this as well as 
 his mother. He stood, looking serious, for a 
 little while. Then, as light flashed over his face, 
 he cried out in a cheery voice, 
 
 " O, I've got it ! Andy and I will ride her to 
 school on our sled. Won't we, Andy?" 
 
 " Hurrah ! " shouted Andy. " Bring on the 
 sled! Won't it be fun?" 
 
 "O, yes, mamma! Can't I go? They'll ride 
 me all the way ; " and a glad light shone through 
 the tears in her eyes. 
 
 "It's a long way, and I'm afraid the boys will 
 tire themselves out," answered mamma. But it 
 didn't take long to persuade her to let Mary go. 
 
 How gayly the children started off! Mary 
 sitting on a box containing all their books, and 
 with their dinner-basket on her lap, "and John
 
 LITTLE MARY. 173 
 
 and Andrew galloping away like frisky horses. 
 After a while Andrew, who was just a little 
 lazy, and not half so unselfish as his brother, 
 got tired of pulling, and said he would push. 
 But he soon found pushing harder than pulling ; 
 so, as the sled was going down a slope, he got 
 on behind without John seeing him, and rode 
 for twenty or thirty yards to the bottom of the 
 slope. If he had jumped off then, and com 
 menced pushing again, John wouldn't have 
 known about it; but he kept his place, and 
 John, without looking back, strained and 
 tugged at the sled that was twice as hard to 
 pull as before. Now this wasn't fair in Andrew. 
 But it's the way with lazy people ; they not 
 only neglect to help others, but often meanly 
 exact service from others while they are idle. 
 Not a suspicion of the cause of his heavier 
 work crossed the mind of John until he heard 
 a schoolmate, coming along with his sister, cry 
 out, 
 
 "Get off, there, you lazy fellow, and help 
 John pull!" 
 
 Andrew's knees were off the sled in a moment,
 
 174 NOT ANYTHING FOE PEACE. 
 
 and John, who was pulling with all his might, 
 almost fell forward in the snow when his weight 
 was removed. 
 
 Andrew laughed, and said he was only in fun ; 
 and good-natured John forgave him, and joined 
 in the laugh. But Andrew felt a little mean; 
 he couldn't help it. 
 
 Then the three boys took hold of the rope, 
 and to their united strength little Mary seemed 
 as light as a feather. How like gay horses they 
 pranced and tossed their heads, flying along as 
 the wind, and coming up to the school-house 
 with merry shouts, that were answered by the 
 groups of children before the door ! 
 
 Mary had her lesson in A-b abs perfect, and 
 there wasn't a happier child there when her 
 teacher said, "You're a good little darling to 
 come all the way in this snow, and say so 
 perfect a lesson." 
 
 When school was out, two strong boys took 
 hold of the rope with John, and away went 
 the dear little scholar home again, swiftly and 
 safely.
 
 DISCORDANT STRINGS.. 175 
 
 VI. 
 
 DISCORDANT STRINGS. 
 
 " OUR homes are like instruments of music. 
 The strings that give melody or discord are the 
 members. If each is rightly attuned, they will 
 all vibrate in harmony. But a single discordant 
 string jars through the whole instrument, aud 
 destroys its sweetness." 
 
 The speaker's voice was calm, but impressive. 
 He was talking to a young man, whose flushed 
 face gave evidence of an excited state of mind. 
 
 "You look at me, uncle, with eyes that say, 
 ' You are the discordant string in this house 
 hold.' " The young man's voice trembled with 
 suppressed feeling. 
 
 "Frankly, Edward, I think you are," was the 
 reply. " Every cross wind disturbs you." 
 
 " There are cross winds enough in this house 
 to disturb an angel," was answered, with con 
 siderable feeling.
 
 176 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 
 
 The door of the room in which they were sit 
 ting opened, and a girl entered. She smiled 
 pleasantly as she looked towards her uncle. 
 Crossing to a table on which lay some books, 
 she selected a volume, and was taking it up, 
 when Edward spoke out in an imperative tone, 
 saying, 
 
 "Don't take that book, Nelly ; I'm reading it." 
 
 " O ! are you ? " And the young girl dropped 
 the volume. There were in voice and manner 
 both sarcasm and rebuke. 
 
 Edward's face flushed. He felt the meaning 
 of what she said, and was .offended. But for 
 the presence of his uncle, he would have shot 
 barbed arrows from his lips. Nelly selected 
 another book, and went out in silence ; but 
 her air was that of a person displeased. Had 
 brother and sister been alone, there would have 
 come loud discord jarring through all the house 
 hold. 
 
 " You see how it is," said Edward, appealing 
 to his uncle. "I can't speak but some one is 
 offended." 
 
 " There is, in speaking as in everything else,
 
 DISCORDANT STRINGS. 177 
 
 a right way and a wrong way. Your way, just 
 now, was wrong, and gave offence." 
 
 " Wrong, uncle ! I merely said, ' Don't take 
 that book, Nelly; I'm reading it.' For my life, 
 I can't see any wrong way in that." 
 
 " You were annoyed, and half angry. I saw 
 it in your face, and perceived it in your tones. 
 Nelly was innocent of any purpose to offend or 
 hurt." 
 
 "I'm not so sure of that, uncle. She knew I 
 was reading that book, and came for it just on 
 purpose. That was what annoyed me. She 
 meant to annoy me." 
 
 Nelly was called by her uncle. She came in 
 with "the same quiet smile that rested on her 
 face a short time before. 
 
 " Sit down, dear," said the uncle ; and she sat 
 down by the table, on one side of which her 
 brother was leaning. She looked at him ear 
 nestly. His face was sober, but not ill-natured. 
 Too often moodiuess and ill-nature gave to it 
 an unbeautiful expression. 
 
 "Nelly," said the uncle, a soft light just 
 touching his grave lips, "I am going to ask 
 12
 
 178 NOT ANYTHING FOE PEACE. 
 
 you a question, and I don't want you to answer 
 it until you have given yourself a few moments 
 for thought and self-control. When you took 
 up that book a little while ago, were you aw tire 
 that Edward was reading it?" 
 
 Nelly dropped her eyes. Her cheeks flushed 
 warmer. Looking up in a few moments, she 
 answered, 
 
 " I knew he had been reading it, but I 
 thought " She stopped, and reflected an. 
 instant; then added, "No, I didn't think any 
 thing about it. But if I had known that 
 he wanted the book, I would have taken an 
 other." 
 
 " Then you did not mean to annoy him ? " 
 
 "O, dear, no, uncle! Why, Edward! Did 
 you really think that?" 
 
 There was something so open and frank about 
 Nelly's manner, that even the most sensitive 
 mind could not have been offended. 
 
 "If he had not thought so, Nelly, he would 
 not have opposed your taking the book in so 
 imperative a manner. This is his excuse for an 
 apparent uukindness."
 
 DISCORDANT STRINGS. 179 
 
 " Indeed, indeed, Edward, yon did me 
 wrong," said the sister. "I never do any 
 thing purposely to annoy yon never ! Some 
 how I am unfortunate, and all the while doing 
 something that disturbs you ; but, I declare, in 
 truth, that I never do an unkind thing, or speak 
 an unkind word, unless from momentary irrita 
 tion, and then I am always sorry for it, and 
 resolve, often in tears, that, do to me, or say 
 to me what you please, I will never answer, 
 except in gentleness and forgiveness. It is a 
 daily grief to me, dear uncle," she added, with 
 brimming eye, "that discord rules so often in 
 our home instead of peace. We are all too 
 sensitive, too quick, too ready to blame one 
 another, instead of letting love and forgiveness 
 dwell in our hearts. O, what would I not give 
 to have it otherwise ! " 
 
 She put her hands over her face, in momen 
 tary loss of self-control, and sobbed. Edward, 
 who was just now seeing himself in a likeness 
 never recognized before, was deeply moved by 
 this unexpected exhibition of feeling on the part 
 of his sister.
 
 180 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 
 
 "It is all my fault, Nelly ! " he exclaimed, un 
 der a sudden impulse of self-condemnation. "All 
 rny fault ! I am so irritable, so ill-natured, so 
 quick to think evil instead of good. But, in the 
 time to come, God helping me, I will not be the 
 jarring string in our household." 
 
 " Dear brother," said Nolly, rising and passing 
 round the table to where Edward was sitting, 
 she laid her hand upon him, and he leaned 
 towards her, "let what will occur, never give 
 room to the thought that I purposely annoy you. 
 I have not done so, and I will not do so. And 
 yet, between you and me, are too many angry 
 passages. We are not patient enough with each 
 other, not forbearing enough, not loving enough. 
 Why may it not be different ? " 
 
 "It shall be different, if anything that I can 
 do have power to work a difference," replied 
 Edward, with much feeling, as he gazed into his 
 sister's face, and thought that he had never seen 
 her look so beautiful. 
 
 "Keep these two chords in tune," said their 
 uncle, "and the household music will rarely feel 
 a throb of discord." And he drew an arm ten 
 derly about each.
 
 DISCORDANT STRINGS. 181 
 
 "My dear nephew," the uncle spoke freely, 
 yet earnestly, when they were again alone, 
 " it is plain, as I have already said, that in this 
 dwelling you have been least in harmony. Au 
 irritable temperament, and lack of perception as 
 to your just relation to others, have blinded you 
 to the real state of your life. I pray you to let 
 the light which has penetrated your mind keep 
 your vision clear, and the good purposes you 
 have formed rule all your after conduct. Keep 
 yourself in tune, and home discords will rarely 
 occur." 
 
 Ah, that untuned string which is forever 
 throwing our household harmonies afloat on 
 the waves of discord ! In what home is it 
 absent? And if one is most responsible, all 
 are responsible in their degree. We need more 
 patience and forbearance, more love, more self- 
 abnegation. We are each too quickly disturbed, 
 and too ready to give back anger for anger. If 
 one string gets out of tune, let all the rest bo 
 drawn more tightly, and in their harmony will 
 be subdued or stilled its harsh vibrations.
 
 182 NOT ANYTHING FOE PEACE. 
 
 VII. 
 
 PHARISEE AND PUBLICAN. 
 
 "Dm you observe the manner in which Mrs. 
 Brentwood treated Mary Clive ? " 
 
 Yes." 
 
 "I wonder what she can mean by it? She 
 pulled her dress away when Mary sat down on 
 the sofa near her, as though taint were in the 
 touch of her garment. Her bearing was cold 
 and repellent." 
 
 "Mary Clive is, in everything that goes to 
 wards excellence of character, her superior," said 
 the other. 
 
 " So I read the two women," answered the 
 first speaker. "I know them both intimately. 
 Mrs. Brentwood is worldly, selfish, and critical 
 in her estimates of other people ; readier to see 
 evil than good. She has an active, but not a 
 reflective mind ; sees a great deal on the out 
 side of things, but is away from her element,
 
 PHARISEE AND PUBLICAN. 183 
 
 and loses herself, when she attempts to go alone 
 beneath the surface. She has no deep experi 
 ences : no fierce conflicts ; no great trials and 
 temptations. She has not passed through the 
 fire ; and, in my opinion, the reason is clear : 
 there is not fine gold enough in her character to 
 stand the fire. She would be consumed in the 
 furnace out of which such women as Mary Clive 
 come purified for heaven." 
 
 " Do you know anything of Mary Olive's early 
 life ? " asked the other. 
 
 " No ; I take her as I find her. That she has 
 passed through trials and temptations, any one 
 can see. She has suffered, and grown strong, 
 and pure, and sweet. Her inner life touches 
 your life, and you feel better for the contact. 
 An hour passed with Mary Clive is never an 
 hour lost. Your higher nature has been stirred. 
 You feel the impulse of truer ends. Your chari 
 ty is broader, and full of desire. But, your 
 question recurring, may I ask if you know any 
 thing of Mary Olive's history ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " There have been dark passages ? "
 
 184 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 
 
 "Yes; and Mrs. Brentwood knows all about 
 them." 
 
 Ah ! is that so ? " 
 
 "Another time we will talk about this," said 
 the friend. "Come and see me, when you have 
 a leisure afternoon. I thought you knew some 
 thing of her former life, and understood its les 
 sons. The story will not fail to reach your 
 ears. Mrs. Brentwood will tell it on the first 
 good opportunity, and it is best that you should 
 hear it from one who judges of a life from its 
 present good, instead of its past and rejected 
 evil." 
 
 A few days afterwards the ladies met, when 
 the subject was renewed. 
 
 "Mary has passed through the furnace," said 
 the one who was ignorant of Miss Olive's early 
 history. 
 
 "Yes; and the flames left, for a time, the 
 smell of fire upon her garments. It came to the 
 nostrils of Mrs. Brentwood, and has lingered 
 there ever since. She never sees or thinks of 
 Mary without perceiving the unpleasant odor." 
 
 "There is no smell of fire upon her garments 
 now ! "
 
 PHARISEE AND PUBLICAN. 185 
 
 "My sense perceives none. To me she is pure 
 and clean. And, knowing her intimately, if she 
 were not pure-minded, I should be quick to per 
 ceive it." 
 
 " I have noted this difference between her and 
 Mrs. Brentwood," said the other. "Mary's con 
 versation never touches the indelicate, and if she 
 talks of persons, it is to speak of the good in 
 them. Her charity for people is a striking fea 
 ture in her disposition. And, so far as my in 
 tercourse with Mrs. Brentwood has gone, I find 
 her the very opposite. She is quick to see faults 
 in others, and, to all appearance, takes pleasure 
 in exposing them. Her mind seems to be full 
 of petty social scandals, and she speaks of them 
 with a piquancy of style and feeling that shows 
 how much she delights in them. There is a cer 
 tain pretence of being shocked at the evil things 
 related ; but the veil is too thin to deceive any 
 one of close observation. To me she is an essen 
 tially impure-minded woman." 
 
 " I have reached the same conclusion," was 
 answered. 
 
 "And such a one as she presumes to draw back
 
 18G NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 
 
 her garments from the touch of Mary Clive, as 
 if there were pollution in the contact ! " 
 
 " Yes. It is the old story of the Pharisee and 
 publican in another sphere of life." 
 
 " Mary has sinned." 
 
 "Who has not? The heart is corrupt by 
 nature. Away back, in the spring-time of her 
 years, a shadow dropped down upon her life. 
 Her childhood was not favorable. The lot of 
 many is cast with the undisciplined, the impure, 
 or the vicious. She was exposed to many bad 
 influences, and temptation crept about her feet, 
 like a serpent, even from the very beginning. 
 Her mother was a weak, frivolous woman, and, 
 I fear, not blameless in conduct. Her husband, 
 a man of strong feelings but good life, left her, 
 and tried to get his children away. A suit for 
 the purpose was about being commenced, when 
 he died, and they were left to their fate. Hap 
 pily for them, they all soon went the way their 
 father had gone, except Mary. She was left 
 with her mother, and exposed to malign influ 
 ences. 
 
 "Very different was the childhood of Mrs.
 
 PHARISEE AND PUBLICAN. 187 
 
 Brentwood. Her father and mother were re 
 ligious people, living in harmony, and guarding 
 their children from all apparent evil. I fear, that 
 if she had been subjected to the influences that 
 surrounded Mary Olive, she would never have 
 passtd through them, and risen into a useful and 
 virtuous life. If, watched and protected as she 
 was by parents, and kept from contact with things 
 impure, she is not now so much in love with 
 good as to search for it in her friends and ac 
 quaintances, but so attracted by things evil and 
 impure as to see them first of all, how would 
 it have been with her if her young life had been 
 cast in the very sphere of evil? I fear that she 
 would not have passed the ordeal safely. 
 
 "At the age of nineteen, Mary Clive was found 
 by a lady, under circumstances of a painful char 
 acter. This lady was a Christian in the true 
 sense, and understood something of what our 
 Lord meant when he said, 'Joy shall be in heav 
 en over one sinner that repenteth, more than 
 over ninety and nine just persons, which need no 
 repentance ; ' and so she became a friend to Mary 
 in the true sense, learned all about her child-
 
 188 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 
 
 hood, and the associations by which she had 
 been surrounded; and looked with a wise intui 
 tion, born of charity that seeks to do good, down 
 into her heart and character, finding there 
 much to encourage the hope of a truer develop 
 ment and a higher and better life in the future. 
 Her first step was to lift her from amidst the 
 external things by which she had so long been 
 surrounded, and to place her in a position favor 
 able to the growth of order, virtue, and right prin 
 ciples. Very quickly the first good seeds cast 
 into the ground of her mind showed signs of 
 germination. Flower and fruit in due time re 
 warded the lady's care and solicitude. From the 
 very day Mary Clive felt the pure life of this 
 Christian woman touching her own life, a virtu 
 ous strength came to her, as if by a kind of 
 transfusion. It was as if she had suddenly stood 
 still, and instead of going a single step farther in 
 the wrong way, had begun to move steadily in 
 an opposite direction, not once pausing to look 
 back, except to shudder at the evil she had suf 
 fered and escaped. 
 
 "From the beginning, this lady remained her
 
 PHAKISEE AND PUBLICAN. 189 
 
 kind and faithful friend. She found qualities in 
 Mary that soon won upon her tenderer feelings. 
 Being childless, the warm, demonstrative, and 
 filial-like love of Mary touched her with a new 
 born sense of pleasure. Gradually the girl grew 
 nearer and nearer; creeping at last into her 
 heart, and living there until death wrought a 
 separation. This lady's position in society estab 
 lished that of Mary. Were there no such evil- 
 disposed women as Mrs. Brentwood in the circles 
 where Miss Clive now moves, not one in twenty 
 would dream that an evil shadow had darkened 
 her young life." 
 
 " Has she an income ? " 
 
 "Yes. On her friend's death, she found her 
 self well provided for. The high character, pure 
 life, and noble Christian virtues of this friend, 
 known to small and great in the community, is 
 the answer that right-thinking people give when 
 your Mrs. Brentwoods try to hurt Mary by un 
 veiling the past. Even though dead, she yet 
 throws about her the mantle of protection." 
 
 " Has Mary's life run smoothly since the time 
 it left the wilderness ? "
 
 190 NOT ANYTHING FOE PEACE. 
 
 " With one or two exceptions. She was a few 
 years ago quite attractive in person. This, with 
 her social position, her intelligence, and the 
 sweetness of her character, made her an object 
 of attention. She did not court, but shrunk 
 from this attention, particularly when it came 
 from the other sex. It was hardly possible that 
 she should fail to lead some heart captive, or 
 escape the passion of all passions deepest and 
 most absorbing. A young man belonging to one 
 of what are called our ' best families ' (best in a 
 mere conventional sense) paid her close atten 
 tions, and finally offered his hand. She did not 
 accept the offer, but referred him to her friend 
 and benefactress, from whom she exacted a 
 promise that the history of her early life should 
 be told without disguise. I do not think the 
 young man's better nature was shocked by the 
 disclosure, his subsequent life has disproved 
 any such idea, but he shrunk away from her, 
 withdrawing his offer of marriage. 
 
 "The hurt was severe, and showed itself in a 
 pale face and a more quiet, inward-looking man 
 ner. The young man married about a year
 
 PHAEISEE AND PUBLICAN. 
 
 afterwards, but selected unwisely. The family 
 was all right, and the maiden's record fair ; but 
 the current of her impulses, which had been hid 
 den from observation, when it found free course 
 and touched her outward life, left a stain. He 
 had turned from one whose soul, purified by the 
 touch of divine truth, had something of vestal 
 purity, and mated himself with glossed corrup 
 tion ! You will be surprised to learn that, in 
 spite of scandals, grounded, I fear, in cause, 
 Mrs. Brentwood holds intimate relations with 
 this person, whose family position has covered 
 a multitude of sins with the mantle of a false 
 charity." 
 
 " It is a high consolation to know," was an 
 swered, "that God's judgments are not as man's. 
 That he looks at the heart, and if he finds it pure, 
 accepts the life ; but if it is not pure, does not 
 accept the life, however orderly it may be in ex 
 ternal things. As seen by angels, the soul of 
 one like Mrs. Brentwood is dark, deformed, and 
 repulsive a cage of unclean things ; while that 
 of one like Mary Clive is white and beautiful. 
 Shall you or I hesitate, because of the past, as to
 
 192 NOT ANYTHING FOK PEACE. 
 
 which of these shall come nearest? as to which 
 shall have our truest regard and confidence?" 
 
 "No, no," replied the friend. "The really 
 pure are they who, in strong trial and tempta 
 tion, have overcome evil. Your self-esteeming, 
 holier-than-thou Pharisee, is not pure. It is in 
 the touch of her garments that a taint lies ; not 
 in that of hers whose garments have been purged 
 by celestial fires."
 
 THE TWO VASES. 193 
 
 VIII. 
 
 THE TWO VASES. 
 
 "Do you admire them?" said the shopman, in 
 that bland, enticing voice so peculiar to the true 
 type of his class. 
 
 " They're charming ! " answered the young man 
 with enthusiasm. " Charming ! " and he lifted 
 one of the elegant Birmingham glass vases from 
 the shelf near which he was standing, and held 
 it towards the light. "Does it not seem like a 
 very miracle of art? Could anything be more 
 perfect than this wreath of green ivy, twining 
 with the very grace of nature around lozenge- 
 shaped ornaments, rich in color as ruby wine ? " 
 
 " Let me send them home," said the shopman, 
 in his soft, bewitching voice. 
 
 Thank you ; but I can't afford to indulge in 
 luxuries of this kind," was the prompt reply. 
 
 "They're cheap; the cheapest pair of vases, 
 13
 
 194 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 
 
 style and quality considered, that I have in the 
 store." 
 
 " What is the price ? " 
 
 " Only twenty-five dollars." 
 
 What a light thing the shopman's voice made 
 of twenty-five dollars ! A mere trifle, scarcely 
 worthy of a thought. But the tempted cus 
 tomer shook his head, as he put the vase which 
 he had been holding in his hand back upon the 
 shelf, saying, 
 
 " Too heavy for my pocket." 
 
 " O, that's only a fancy ! " said the shopman. 
 "Let me send them home. It's of no conse 
 quence about the money ; that will do at any 
 time. Surprise your wife ! Think how delight 
 ed she will be with these charming ornaments 
 for her parlor mantel-piece. I know ladies' 
 weaknesses in this direction as well as the next 
 man." 
 
 And he took back from the shelf, where his 
 customer had returned it, one of the glass vases, 
 and began calling attention to its peculiar points 
 of beauty. 
 
 "It's of no consequence about the money!"
 
 THE TWO VASES. 195 
 
 Ah, that little sentence was doing its work in 
 the young man's mind. He was a bookkeeper, 
 receiving only a moderate salary, and not able 
 to indulge in the luxury of twenty-five dollar 
 vases ; and, much as he might have desired to 
 possess the pair now offered, the question of 
 cash down would have settled the matter with 
 out debate. But it was of no consequence as 
 to the money ! This put a different face on the 
 matter. He began to look with more strongly- 
 favoring eyes upon the richly-colored and 
 exquisitely-cut and moulded ornaments. He 
 saw them gracing his little parlor, and giving 
 it a new attraction ; saw the pleased face of his 
 wife ; heard the admiration of friends and vis 
 itors ; felt the delight of possessing such exquis 
 ite pieces of art. 
 
 " A thing of beauty is a joy forever." 
 
 The shopman knew enough of Byron for trade 
 purposes, at least. This was one of his favorite 
 quotations. It was true poetry to him, for it 
 put money into his pocket almost daily, turning, 
 as it so often did, the customer's nicely-equi 
 poised debate on the side of consent.
 
 196 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 
 
 " A perpetual enjoyment," said the young 
 man, in his thought, responsive to the tempter's 
 suggestion from the poet, " and not only to my 
 self and wife, but to our friends." 
 
 "I will send them home, Mr. Talbot; I want 
 you to possess these vases. They are unique of 
 their kind, and have been more admired than 
 anything in the store. The sight of them will 
 be as sunshine in your home. Every house 
 should have in it articles of true taste and 
 beauty. Money is always well spent in this 
 direction. Nothing pays so well. Beauty edu 
 cates the mind, and lifts us above the rude and 
 depraving things of common life ; gives happi 
 ness, in short. So I will send them home, and, 
 at your own convenience, you can pay for them. 
 Take two, three, or four mouths any time will 
 suit us." 
 
 "Very well," answered Mr. Talbot; "if you 
 "will do so, I can't help myself, of course. I 
 think the vases exquisite, and I know my wife 
 will be charmed with them." 
 
 From the store in which our young friend's 
 prudence had been overcome by what, in his
 
 THE TWO VASES. 197 
 
 case, was little less than a covetous desire to 
 possess the beauty his eyes looked upon with 
 admiration, he went to his work for the day, 
 not feeling altogether satisfied with himself. 
 Prudence had urged him not to buy the vases, 
 and endeavored to make him see that it would 
 be wrong to incur any debt, seeing that his light 
 income barely sufficed to reach the expense of 
 their frugal housekeeping. But in a moment 
 of weakness he had put aside the suggestions 
 of prudence. Now, however, the clear voice of 
 this true monitor was heard again, disturbing 
 his self-satisfaction, and throwing a shadow over 
 the sunshine of anticipated pleasure. 
 
 Very impatient was Mr. Talbot for evening to 
 come, when, turning from his desk, a free man, 
 he could go home, look upon his beautiful vases, 
 and witness the pleasure of his wife in this 
 charming addition to her little parlor. At last 
 the sun went down in the brief day of closing 
 autumn, and our young friend bent his light 
 steps homeward, thinking of scarcely anything 
 besides his new possessions, and the higher tone 
 of pleasure it would give to the meeting with
 
 198 NOT ANYTHING FOB PEACE. 
 
 his wife. He expected to see the parlor lighted 
 up, and to find her sitting there in silent admira 
 tion of the beautiful objects he had bought. 
 But no ; all was dark as he came in sight of 
 his dwelling. He felt a pressure of disappoint 
 ment. Was it possible that the vases had not 
 been sent home? He feared that it was so. 
 His key rattled in the latch, and he pushed 
 open the door. The gas flickered dimly in the 
 passage, turned low by the prudent hand of his 
 wife. As the jar of the closing door broke 
 along the stillness, Mr. Talbot listened to hear 
 the sound of his wife's footsteps, in a sudden 
 start, on her way to meet him. But all 
 remained silent. He drew off his coat, and 
 hung it upon the rack, his feelings considerably 
 dashed. 
 
 In their little sitting-room Mr. Talbot found 
 his wife busy with her needle-work. She looked 
 up with her usual welcoming smile and pleasant 
 words ; but Mr. Talbot thought neither the smile 
 nor tone as heart-free as usual. Perhaps this 
 was because his picture of the meeting had 
 been too warmly tinted in imagination.
 
 THE TWO VASES. 199 
 
 "Was anything sent home to-day?" He 
 could not keep back from this uppermost sub 
 ject in his mind. 
 
 A light glanced over the face of Mrs. Talbot ; 
 but it was not the warm, glad light her husband 
 looked to see. 
 
 " Yes ; two beautiful vases. Whose are 
 they ? " 
 
 Ours." 
 
 "No!" 
 
 "Yes, ours yours, Mary. I bought them 
 for you. Are they not exquisite?" 
 
 The light went fading out of Mrs. Talbot's 
 countenance. 
 
 " Yes, they are very beautiful, Charles ; but 
 too handsome for our plain parlor." 
 
 "Not a bit of it, Mary. Just what they 
 wanted. The mantel-piece has always looked 
 so meagre, with only a pair of china match 
 boxes, and that little painted imitation of Bo 
 hemian glass. But these are gems of art and 
 beauty things to give the mind a perpetual 
 pleasure. Come ! I must see them." 
 
 And Charles Talbot drew his wife away to the
 
 200 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 
 
 parlor, which was soon glowing in light from 
 every lighted burner in the room. 
 
 "What was the cost?" 
 
 All ! how often does this question come as a 
 damper to enthusiasm ? 
 
 "Only twenty-five dollars." Mr. Talbot's 
 voice lost a little of its firmness. 
 
 " Twenty-five dollars ! Why, Charles ! W T hat 
 could have possessed you ? " 
 
 The young, prudent wife, who felt daily how 
 closely their income held them to the necessity 
 of a most careful expenditure, was betrayed 
 into a tone of disapproval stronger than was 
 at all agreeable to her husband. 
 
 "I didn't have to pay the inoney down," he 
 said, in vindication of himself, yet with a cold 
 ness that came as a chill to the feelings of his 
 wife. 
 
 Already the pair of vases, which were to 
 bring a new pleasure into their home, had coma 
 between them, and they stood farther apart, 
 instead of nearer together. Instinctively was 
 this felt by Mrs. Talbot ; and she tried to rally 
 herself, and look pleased and interested. But
 
 THE TWO VASES. 201 
 
 she had betrayed her real feelings and senti 
 ments ; and to cloak them now was no actual 
 concealment. 
 
 " They are beautiful," she said, with an inter 
 est in her manner that only in part deceived her 
 husband, taking one of them from the mantel 
 piece, and holding it to the light; "and I don't 
 wonder you were tempted. What a rich ruby ! 
 It comes to the eyes laden with a sense of enjoy 
 ment, just as a deep, pure organ-tone comes to 
 the ear." 
 
 "And they are really very cheap." Ah ! that 
 was not aptly said for Mr. Talbot. No, they 
 were not cheap for him not cheap if the price 
 had been twenty, or even fifteen, instead of 
 twenty-five dollars, for he was not well enough 
 off in the world to afford this luxury. And here 
 let the remark be made, that all articles of taste 
 and luxury pictures, vases, statuettes, and the 
 like which cannot be afforded, that is, which 
 cannot be obtained without debt, or the depriva 
 tion of things essential to use and comfort, 
 always bring to the possessors more pain than 
 pleasure. Their beauty soon dims, and the
 
 202 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 
 
 sight of them is always attended with a certain 
 sense of disquietude. Covetous eyes take them 
 in greedily, and will not be satisfied with any 
 thing less than possession ; but after possession 
 their charm is gone. 
 
 "And they are really very cheap." No, it was 
 not aptly said; and, as the thought, how very 
 dear they were for them, crept through the 
 mind of Mrs. Talbot, the fine enthusiasm of 
 her manner died away. She returned the vase 
 she -was holding to the mantel-piece, and a 
 sigh it was involuntary stole out upon the 
 air. 
 
 One after another the gas lights were turned 
 off by Mr. Talbot, in a kind of desperate delib 
 eration, and in silence he and his young wife 
 returned to their sitting-room. She took up the 
 sewing which had been laid down on his en 
 trance, and bent close over it; and he drew a 
 newspaper from his pocket, and commenced 
 looking through its well-filled columns for 
 something of interest. But nothing that he 
 tried to read took hold of his mind. Steadily 
 his thought turned itself away from things of
 
 THE TWO VASES. 203 
 
 general interest, and hovered around his pair of 
 vases, the purchase of which he was already 
 soberly regretting. Onward to the pay day 
 his mind was beginning to reach, and the 
 difficulty of saving twenty-five dollars from 
 their income had a disheartening look. The 
 idea of being in debt was producing an uncom 
 fortable feeling. "Two, three, or four months." 
 So the storekeeper had said. After two months, 
 then, the twenty-five dollars would be due ; and 
 four months was the limit of time. The Sum 
 could not be paid in two months, the quarter's 
 rent would interfere, and so, from that period, 
 he would be in the uncomfortable state of a 
 debtor not able to pay, borne with, two months 
 longer, on sufferance. How native pride and 
 independence felt a sting of shame ! 
 
 " What are you thinking about, Mary ? " Mr. 
 Talbot, who, looking for some time over the top 
 of his unread newspaper at the shadowed face 
 of his wife, spoke out suddenly, and Mrs. 
 Tulbot looked up in a startled way, flushing, 
 as though detected in something she would 
 rather conceal.
 
 204 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 
 
 "Will you give a penny for my thoughts?" 
 she replied, endeavoring to appear indifferent as 
 to their nature. 
 
 "Yes; or a dollar, if you will. So let me 
 see them." Mr. Talbot tried to smile in a 
 pleasant way, but the mask did not fairly hide 
 the real face that was clouded beneath. His 
 wife answered, 
 
 "We cannot always determine the nature of 
 our thoughts. They are often unbidden and 
 unwelcome guests ; and it is better, at times, 
 to let them pass unspoken." 
 
 "Your thoughts may always be spoken to 
 your husband, Mary," said Mr. Talbot, his 
 voice falling into a tenderness of tone that 
 showed the intrusion of right feelings. 
 
 But Mrs. Talbot kept silence. 
 
 "You were thinking of the vases, Mary." 
 
 She did not reply. 
 
 "And of my weakness, folly, and extrava 
 gance " 
 
 "No, no, Charles. That is no right reading 
 of my thoughts." She spoke with a still height 
 ening color.
 
 THE TWO VASES. 205 
 
 "Then open the page, and let me read them 
 just as they have recorded themselves. You 
 were thinking of the vases. How did your 
 thoughts run ? Don't be afraid of hurting ' or 
 offending me. I want to see this matter with 
 your eyes. We cannot afford a pair of twenty- 
 live-dollar vases. You thought that." 
 
 Yes." 
 
 " Well ; and what besides ? " 
 
 "I thought of Hannah sleeping on the sack 
 ing, because we had not been able to spare the 
 money for a mattress or bed." 
 
 The parted lips of Mr. Talbot closed tightly, 
 and his forehead drew together. 
 
 "And of the contrast between those showy 
 vases and our plain parlor furniture a con 
 trast that will always be unpleasiiig to our 
 eyes, and a cause of remark by our visitors. 
 Our extravagance and lack of good taste will, 
 most likely, be the burden of our friends' com 
 ments." 
 
 "May be you are right," said Mr. Talbot. 
 "Go on. What more of your thoughts?" 
 
 "The pay day must come. Will you be able
 
 206 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 
 
 to spare twenty-five dollars in three or four 
 months from this time any better than you can 
 spare it now? And will not this thought be all 
 the while troubling you, and taking from the 
 vases all beauty in your eyes? And suppose 
 you can't pay for them when the price is due ? 
 The thought of your being in debt, and of the 
 humiliation that must follow, really sickens me. 
 Even a debt of twenty -five dollars may rob a 
 man of all true enjoyment in life." 
 
 A long sigh struggled up from the young 
 man's bosom. 
 
 "Your thoughts are of the right tone, Mary," 
 he replied, with a sober face. "What a fool I 
 was to let that smooth-tongued shopman entice 
 me from common sense and common prudence. 
 I should have known that no real enjoyment 
 could lie for us in mere external beauty, gained 
 at the price of self-disapprobation and debt." 
 
 That was one of the dullest evenings Mr. and 
 Mrs. Talbot had spent together for a long time. 
 A shadow, as of some evil, seemed to rest on 
 their spirits. They did not venture into the 
 parlor again to look at their elegant vases, but 
 instinctively avoided the apartment.
 
 THE TWO VASES. 207 
 
 The tranquil sleep that usually came to the 
 pillow of Mr. Talbot did not visit him that 
 night. His mind was excited with thoughts 
 about the vases ; and these kept him awake 
 until after the small hours that strike on the 
 side of the morning. When sleep came at last, 
 he had one of those vivid dreams that surprise 
 us when we recall them, by their strange and 
 minute semblance to reality. It extended, ap 
 parently, through months, during all of which 
 time the vases were a source of the keenest 
 annoyances and mortifications. There - were 
 constant demands for the twenty-five dollars, 
 and no ability to pay. 
 
 "You will have to wait longer, sir." He 
 awoke long before day dawn, speaking these 
 words aloud. 
 
 "Who will have to wait?" asked Mrs. Tal 
 bot; she was not really sleeping. Something 
 had disturbed her rest, and once fairly awake, 
 unpleasing thoughts about the vases had come 
 to her mind in unwelcome intrusion, and kept 
 her from oblivion again. 
 
 "O, it's nothing nothing! I was dream 
 ing," he answered.
 
 208 NOT ANYTHING FOE PEACE. 
 
 "Dreaming about what?" 
 
 But Mr. Talbot did not reply. A suspicion 
 of the truth crossing the mind of his wife, kept 
 her from pressing the question. 
 
 " If mere shadows can so affect us," was the 
 thought of Mr. Talbot, as he lay with the vivid 
 impression of that dream still in his conscious 
 ness, " what pain must be in the substance from 
 which it is projected. If a vision of debt is so 
 full of humiliation, the actuality must be ter 
 rible ! " 
 
 When Mr. Talbot left his house next morning 
 he had two packages in his arms. They w r ere 
 the Birmingham vases. 
 
 "What are these?" asked the shopman, whose 
 bland persuasions had won consent from his 
 customer on the day before, as Mr. Talbot came 
 in, and laid his two packages on the counter. 
 There was only the faintest semblance of a smile 
 on his face now, for he saw, by the shape of the 
 packages, what was iu them, and understood 
 that the vases were to be returned. Without 
 answering, Mr. Talbot removed the enveloping 
 paper.
 
 THE TWO VAg'ES. 209 
 
 "Well, sir?" The shopman looked at the 
 vases, and then at his customer, in a mystified, 
 questioning way, affecting not to understand 
 what was clear to him as a sunbeam. 
 
 " I must ask the privilege of returning these 
 articles," said Mr. Talbot. 
 
 " Why so ? " The voice cut rather sharply. 
 
 "My wife doesn't care about them in fact, I 
 can't afford to indulge in superfluities of this 
 kind." The young man's face colored. His 
 pride was touched. He felt humiliated. The 
 purchase was a fair one, and there was, in his 
 view, something of meanness in receding from 
 a bargain. Still he must get the vases off his 
 hands, for to keep them would be to retain a 
 source of perpetual annoyance. 
 
 " It's against our rule." How cold the voice ! 
 How impassive the manner ! " We might ex 
 change them. I don't see that we can do any 
 better." 
 
 The worst was over with Mr. Talbot. He 
 grew hard and resolute under this changed as 
 pect of the shopman. 
 
 "I am sorry," he said, speaking firmly, "to 
 14
 
 210 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 
 
 be obliged to return these vases. But it is 
 better for you and me both that it should be 
 done. You will expect your money, and it 
 may not come 'when you look for its receipt. 
 The vases are handsome, and will not wait long 
 for a customer." 
 
 And saying this, the young man turned from 
 the counter. As he did so, the words, " This is 
 your property, not mine, and it will remain at 
 your risk," were thrown after him, angrily. He 
 came back, and said, in a quiet voice that en 
 tirely concealed the disturbance he felt, 
 
 " Will you do me a favor, Mr. Jenkins ? " 
 
 "What?" 
 
 " Sell these vases within two months, the 
 shortest time in which I was to pay for them, 
 and send me a bill for the difference between 
 what they bring and twenty-five dollars?" 
 
 " I'd rather you'd keep them." 
 
 "That I am resolved not to do, and for the 
 reason already given. I'm sorry you have made 
 me feel so uncomfortable about a matter of but 
 little importance to yourself. Oblige me in what 
 I ask. If I am ready to make good any do-
 
 THE TWO VASES. 211 
 
 ficieucy in price, why compel me to keep articles 
 that I do not want ? " 
 
 There was an unamiable, muttered acqui 
 escence in this proposal, and Talbot retired, 
 feeling more disturbed and unhappy than he 
 had been for years. 
 
 "If some of my friends, whom I know to be 
 indulging in elegancies and luxuries beyond 
 their means, have anything of my experience 
 in this the first transgression, I pity them ! " 
 said the young man, feelingly, to himself, as 
 he hurried along the street on his way to the 
 counting-room where he was employed. "I 
 will keep it in perpetual remembrance, as a 
 wall of protection around me in future temp 
 tations." 
 
 That evening, as Charles Talbot stood in his 
 plain but neatly furnished parlor, and looked at 
 the two china match-boxes and imitation Bohe 
 mia vase that decorated his mantel-piece, they 
 seemed so in harmony with everything else in 
 the rooms, that a real sense of pleasure stole 
 into his heart. They were not elegant and 
 costly, but as being the best he could afford
 
 212 NOT ANYTHING FOE PEACE. 
 
 in the way of ornament, had more power in 
 them to give peace of mind than lay in the 
 richest works of art and skill obtained at the 
 cost of self-disapproval, debt, or humiliating 
 embarrassment. 
 
 " How weak and blind I was, Mary," he said, 
 as he drew his arm around his wife. " The vases 
 would have brought into our present home the 
 demon of disquiet." 
 
 "I am glad you returned them," was her 
 gently-spoken answer. "We do not need such 
 things for happiness, Charles. There are higher, 
 better, and surer sources, and we may go to 
 them daily if we will. Contentment is great 
 gain. Peace comes from right thoughts going 
 down into right actions, not from a restless 
 desire to possess whatever strikes the eye as 
 beautiful or desirable. Let us be thankful for 
 the good we have, and not suffer it to be thrown 
 into shadow by the good of another. We lose 
 all that we really have, and gain nothing by this. 
 God knows best in what sphere of life we can 
 be most useful to ourselves and to others ; 
 safest for this world and the next ; happiest for
 
 THE TWO VASES. 213 
 
 time and for eternity. Let us steadily, tran 
 quilly, patiently move and shine in our sphere, 
 and all will be well." 
 
 " The vases shall be my monitor. I will think 
 of them when tempted again," replied Talbot, 
 " and the recollection will quicken into life my 
 better reason. The lesson was needed, and I 
 have- learned it by heart."
 
 214 NOT ANYTHING FOE PEACE. 
 
 IX. 
 
 IN TROUBLE. 
 
 "THERE'S something wrong with Hugh," said 
 Mrs. Ellis, speaking to her husband. "All the 
 life has gone out of him." 
 
 " He's tired himself at play, or eaten too much 
 cake and candy," answered the father. "He'll 
 be all right again in the morning." 
 
 But Mrs. Ellis did not feel so sure of that. 
 She had noticed, on Hugh's return from school, 
 a change in the frank, cheerful face he commonly 
 wore. He did not come with his usual hop, 
 skip, and jump, and merry laugh, but glided in 
 almost stealthily, as though he wished to avoid 
 observation. 
 
 Instead of romping with Lion, the house dog, 
 or racing over the lawn and through the garden 
 walks, he sat down by a window and opened one 
 of his lesson-books. But though he bent down 
 over his book, his mother, who, unknown to
 
 IN TROUBLE. 215 
 
 Hugh, was watching him closely, saw that he 
 was not studying. 
 
 " What's the matter, my son ? " she asked. 
 
 The boy started, and his face grew red. 
 
 "Nothing," he replied, in a voice that did not 
 sound like his own, turning his head away as he 
 spoke. 
 
 " Don't you feel well?" 
 
 " My head aches." And the lad answered 
 truthfully. 
 
 Mrs. Ellis laid her hand on his forehead. It 
 felt hot. 
 
 "How long has your head ached?" she in 
 quired. 
 
 "Not long." 
 
 "Do you feel badly anywhere else? " 
 
 "No, ma'am," Hugh answered. But in this he 
 was not so truthful. He had something worse 
 than any head-ache. What was that ? you ask. 
 I will tell you. He had the heart-ache ; and 
 heart-aches are a great deal worse than head 
 aches, and more difficult to cure. 
 
 Mrs. Ellis stood with her cool hand resting on 
 Hugh's forehead for a little while, hesitating
 
 216 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 
 
 whether to question him farther, or to wait until 
 he showed more Avillingness to confide to her the 
 trouble that weighed on his mind. 
 
 "I'm sorry," she said, as she removed her 
 hand. "You've been playing too hard." 
 
 Hugh did not reply, and his mother left him 
 without saying anything more. 
 
 He was dull at supper time, and soon after the 
 lamps were lighted went off to bed. After un 
 dressing himself he knelt down as usual to say 
 his prayers. But as the first words of "Our 
 Father " came from his mouth a great darkness 
 and confusion fell on his mind, and a shiver ran 
 through his body. He could not repeat a single 
 sentence of the prayer. Almost in affright, he 
 arose quickly and crept into bed, drawing the 
 clothes tightly around him. 
 
 It was a long time before Hugh could get to 
 sleep, and then his slumber was not peaceful. 
 Dreams troubled him all through the night. 
 From one of these dreams he awoke, trembling 
 in every limb, and with the large drops of per 
 spiration standing on his forehead. 
 
 This was the dream. He thought that, against
 
 IN TROUBLE. 217 
 
 his father's express command, he had gone off with 
 two or three lads of his own age to visit some 
 Indians who had set up their bark tents in the 
 neighborhood, where they made baskets, and 
 pretended to tell fortunes. He dreamed that 
 as he stood looking in at one of the tent doors a 
 tall, painted Indian, with a wicked face, caught 
 hold of his arm with a tight grip, and said, 
 
 "What a fine boy ! I buy him." 
 
 Then a man, whom he had not seen before, 
 stood up beside the Indian, and answered, 
 
 "I'll sell him." 
 
 "What your price?" asked the Indian, his 
 grip on Hugh's arm growing tighter. 
 
 "Twenty dollars," said the man. 
 
 "I take him," answered the Indian ; and as he 
 spoke he commenced fastening the boy's hands 
 with a strip of tough bark. Hugh tried to 
 scream, but could utter no sound. 
 
 Then he awoke, panting and frightened. For 
 almost an hour he lay awake after this. At last, 
 wearied with tumbling and tossing on his bed, 
 he fell off to sleep again ; and then another 
 frightful dream came with its strange and shadowy
 
 218 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 
 
 terrors. He thought himself still awake and 
 alone in his room with the darkness around him. 
 Suddenly the door opened, and a man entered 
 with a lamp in his hand, the light from which 
 filled all the chamber. He had a severe counte 
 nance ; and his eyes, as they turned on the 
 scared boy, seemed to pierce him through like 
 sharp daggers. 
 
 "Come," he said, in a stern voice; and Hugh 
 arose and followed him out of the room. He 
 did not find himself in a softly carpeted hall, but 
 in a narrow passage, the floor and walls of hewn 
 stone. A cold damp air sent a shiver through 
 his body. The man strode on through this pas 
 sage, and the boy, trembling and in great fear, 
 walked swiftly after him. At last the man 
 stopped before a grated iron door, put a key 
 in the lock, and swung it open. Hugh went in, 
 and then the door shut upon him with a heavy 
 clang, and he was alone in a prison cell. It was 
 dark at first; then it grew light, and he could 
 see the damp, slimy walls, the grated window, 
 and the iron bedstead. 
 
 Ugh ! What a shudder ran suddenly through
 
 IN TROUBLE. 219 
 
 him ! As bis gaze rested on the bed, a pair of 
 glittering eyes fixed him where he stood, as if 
 they were arrows. Slowly uncoiled the body of 
 a huge serpent ; the head raised itself in air, 
 moved from side to side, and then advanced to 
 wards him, the fiery eyes growing larger as it 
 approached. 
 
 Motionless w r ith terror, the boy stood gazing 
 at the serpent until he could feel its hot breath 
 in his face. Then fear grew into such wild ago 
 ny that he awoke. 
 
 O, what a relief it was to see daylight coming 
 in through the window, and to know that all 
 these frightful things were but dreams ! 
 
 Never before had such terrors visited him in 
 sleep. Glad to leave his bed, Hugh arose much 
 earlier than usual, and dressing himself, went 
 down stairs, and out into the garden. The sun 
 was just rising, and his beams, as they fell on 
 the leaves and blades of grass, made thousands 
 of dew-drops glow and sparkle with a brilliancy 
 richer than that of the purest diamond. The air 
 was cool and refreshing, and all things peaceful. 
 But the peace of nature did not reflect itself in
 
 220 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 
 
 the boy's heart. Upon that rested a heavy load, 
 and within was a trouble that all nature, no 
 matter how tranquil or beautiful, could not 
 soothe. 
 
 It was because of this that his dreams had 
 been so frightful. The hardest pillow on which 
 any one can sleep is a troubled conscience. It 
 gives no rest day nor night. 
 
 And so Hugh's conscience was troubled? 
 Yes ; he had done a wicked thing. You are 
 sorry to hear this, and I am sorry to tell of it. 
 Poor boy ! none knew of his sin except God, 
 from whose eyes nothing is ever concealed ; and 
 he, in his great love, troubled his conscience, 
 and let evil spirits haunt him with dreaming 
 fears, so that he might be led to repentance. 
 
 Shall I tell you of his sin? At school, on the 
 day before, he had seen in the desk of one of the 
 children a large ripe pear and a peach. " O, I 
 wish they were mine ! " he said to himself, 
 eagerly. To desire the possession of anything 
 that belongs to another is to covet that thing. 
 If Hugh had remembered the commandment, 
 "Thou shalt not covet," etc., when this desire to
 
 IN TROUBLE. 221 
 
 have his schoolfellow's peaches came into his 
 mind, and had, because covetousuess was sin, 
 turned his thoughts instantly away, the evil that 
 followed could not have happened. 
 
 But he cherished the desire, and kept thinking 
 of the fruit, and longing to taste its delicious 
 sweetness. At recess it happened that he alone 
 remained in the school-room. He looked from 
 the window, and saw that all the children were 
 out of sight. They had gone around to the 
 other side of the school-house. Then he thought 
 of the pear and peach, and opened the desk in 
 which he had seen them ; not with any intention 
 to steal. O, no ! He would have been fright 
 ened at the thought. But he would just like to 
 look at them. There they were, so beautiful 
 and tempting. He took first the pear and then 
 the peach, smelled them, turned them over and 
 over, smelled them again, and at last pressed his 
 teeth so hard on the pear that the skin gave way 
 a little, and the luscious juice was tasted. 
 
 You see how he put himself in the way of 
 temptation. If he had resisted the first covet 
 ous desire, and turned from it as a sin, he would
 
 222 NOT ANYTHING EOK PEACE. 
 
 have gone right out of the circle of danger. 
 But he did not do this ; and so covetousuess led 
 him into theft ; for, no sooner did he taste the 
 fruit, than, with the blind eagerness of one "who 
 gives himself up to an evil passion, he thrust 
 both the peach and pear into his pockets, and 
 then slunk away where no one could observe 
 him, to devour them with the greediness of a 
 hungry animal. This was not enjoyment. Pie 
 did not really get the fine flavor of the fruit, 
 which was taken in great mouthfuls and swal 
 lowed before it was half chewed, lest some one 
 should discover and expose him. 
 
 He actually panted from the exertion of eat 
 ing, so rapidly had it been done. Now there 
 fell upon him a dreadful anxiety, accompanied 
 by a sense of shame and guilt. Pie was afraid 
 to meet his schoolmates on the play-ground, lest 
 they should read in his face the story of what he 
 had done. 
 
 When the loss of the fruit was discovered 
 there was much excitement and inquiry, and the 
 thief was denounced in very strong language. 
 Every word of scorn, contempt, and execration
 
 IN TROUBLE. 223 
 
 that fell from the boys' lips struck like a heavy 
 blow on Hugh's heart. But no one accused him, 
 or appeared to have the least suspicion that he 
 was the guilty one. 
 
 This was the heavy load that Hugh's heart and 
 conscience brought home from school ; and we 
 do not wonder that the old cheerful life was 
 gone, nor that the evil spirits he had taken into 
 his company tormented him even while asleep. 
 
 O, how wretched the boy was, out in the gar 
 den, with all things pure and beautiful around 
 him ! The very peace and loveliness of nature 
 he felt as a rebuke. In his misery he left the 
 sweet garden walks, and shrank into a corner of 
 the tool-house, where he sat down. A bird lit 
 on the branch of a tree above him, and sent out 
 a clear, exultant song. He looked up, and past 
 the bird, through an opening in the leaves, he 
 saw a small circle of clear blue sky. A strange 
 feeling came over him. It seemed as if God 
 was looking down upon him from heaven. First 
 there was awe, then reverence, and then a sor 
 row for the evil he had done, that made the hot 
 tears rain down over his face. Clasping his
 
 224 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 
 
 hands together, and lifting his eyes, he said, "O 
 Lord, I have been a very wicked little boy, but 
 I am so sorry ! I am in great trouble, and don't 
 know what to do." 
 
 Just then he heard the sound of feet approach 
 ing. He paused in his prayer, sitting quite 
 still. But the sound went by. He did not con 
 tinue praying, for it came just then into his mind 
 that he would try to make restitution that is, 
 restore to his schoolmate what he had taken 
 from him. But the pear and peach were no 
 more he had eaten them. Yes, but he might 
 get another peach and pear, and secretly put 
 them in the boy's desk. How was he to get 
 them? He had no money. 
 
 Here a tempting spirit they are always near 
 us, trying to take us off our guard actually 
 suggested to Hugh to shake some pennies from 
 his brother's money-box. I am pleased to say 
 for him that he shuddered at the thought, and 
 rejected it. What did he do next? Just what 
 he should have done the night before. He went 
 to his best friend on earth, his mother, and told 
 her all.
 
 IN TROUBLE. 225 
 
 I will not describe her pain and sorrow. But 
 she was a wise and loving mother, and kept her 
 arm tightly drawn around her boy while he told 
 his sad story. His feet had stepped aside into 
 the paths of sin, and she knew that love would 
 most surely turn them back again into the right 
 way. 
 
 " If I only had the money to buy another pear 
 and peach," said Hugh, sobbing, " I'd make it up 
 to him." 
 
 '.' You would confess all, and give him the 
 fruit." 
 
 An expression of doubt and pain came into 
 the boy's face. 
 
 "I don't see any good that is to come from 
 confessing it to him," he replied. " God knows 
 it, and he knows too that I am very sorry, and 
 want to do right about it. You know it, and I 
 know it. I'm sure that's enough. If all the 
 school knew about it I couldn't hold my head up 
 among the boys. I might never in all my life 
 do a dishonest thing again ; and yet somebody 
 would always be afraid of me, and say that I 
 was a thief." 
 
 15
 
 226 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 
 
 Hugh's mother understood all this as well as 
 he did, and couldn't see that any good, but rather 
 harm, would come of any further open confes 
 sion he might make. So, when he started for 
 school that day, she gave him a folded piece of 
 paper, containing some money, and with these 
 words written on the inside : 
 
 " To buy two peaches and two pears, from the 
 boy who, in a moment of temptation, wickedly 
 took your peach and pear. He is very sorry, 
 and has confesed to God and his mother." 
 
 This paper Hugh placed in his schoolmate's 
 desk at recess on that very day. The boy, on 
 finding it, was so affected by the manner in 
 which restitution had been made that he w r ent 
 up to the teacher and handed him the paper; 
 and the teacher read it aloud to the whole 
 school. 
 
 A deep silence followed. The scholars looked 
 at one another with inquiring faces. Hugh felt 
 as though every one must know him to be the 
 thief of yesterday : but no one suspected him. 
 After a pause, the teacher said, in a voice that 
 trembled with feeling,
 
 IN TROUBLE. 227 
 
 "My dear boys, I am affected by this inci 
 dent. Who the lad is that was tempted yester 
 day, and so truly repents to-day, we do not 
 know. His secret is with God, his mother, and 
 himself, and therefore safe. It is better for him, 
 and for us also, that we should not know him. 
 But this I will say of him, that such repentance 
 as his the repentance made before God, and 
 thus quickly bearing the fruit of restitution is 
 so deep as to be the pledge of future integrity. 
 If I knew him I would trust him without fear. 
 Take the lesson of his painful experience to 
 heart, and if, in a moment of temptation, you do 
 evil to another, confess it to God, and as quickly 
 as possible repair the wrong you have done." 
 
 Hugh went home from school with a lighter 
 heart than on the day before ; and the dreams 
 that came to him in the night that followed were 
 peaceful and happy.
 
 228 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 
 
 X. 
 
 IN THE LAST TIME. 
 
 "AN opportunity like this doesn't come to a 
 man every day. Go in and win ! ' that is my 
 advice." 
 
 The speaker was past middle age ; and he who 
 listened had made the record of about an equal 
 number of years in his book of life. 
 
 "The stock will double on its present quota 
 tion in less than sixty days, Mr. Gushing," 
 pursued the speaker, with ardor. "I've given 
 you a hint of what is doing, and a hint only ; 
 but, take my word for it, the stock will go up 
 like a balloon. It's down to twenty now, but it 
 will range between the thirties and forties in 
 a month." 
 
 "And go down faster than it went up, Mr. 
 Slocum," was answered. 
 
 Mr. Slocum shrugged his shoulders, and 
 looked arch and knowing.
 
 IN THE LAST TIME. 229 
 
 "Of course you'll be out of danger. Fore 
 warned, forearmed. It's a 'fancy,' I know. 
 But there's a game up, aud I happen to have 
 seen the winning cards. Take ten thousand 
 dollars of this stock now, and in thirty days 
 you may sell out at fifteen or twenty thousand. 
 The thing's as sure as death. There's not a 
 particle of risk. The stock's been at twenty 
 for the last year, and can't get bel*tf that figure. 
 You can sell at twenty-five or thirty, while it's 
 on the rising numbers, if you don't care to wait 
 longer for higher chances." 
 
 "If I understand you," said Mr. Gushing, 
 " there is no solid basis for the anticipated 
 rise." 
 
 " None at all ; but that's no concern of 
 yours or mine. "We don't operate for a rise, 
 but only take advantage of what we know is 
 going to be." 
 
 " After sixty days the stock will fall ? " 
 
 " Yes ; and then ' stand from under ' is the 
 word ; you'll not find me the owner of a share." 
 
 " Somebody will lose." 
 
 " Of course."
 
 230 NOT ANYTHING FOE PEACE. 
 
 "And be swindled, of course," said Mr. Gush 
 ing. 
 
 "You may call it by what name you please. 
 But that isn't the question now. ' Go in and 
 win' is the word." 
 
 " This winning, I think you said just now, was 
 as sure as death ? " 
 
 " Death sure, Mr. Gushing ! " 
 
 "The remark has set me to thinking, Mr. 
 Slocum." 
 
 " Ah ! what of your thoughts ? " 
 
 " There is a last time coming for us all." 
 
 " So the preachers say." Mr. Slocum 
 shrugged his shoulders in a manner peculiar 
 to himself. 
 
 " When some of the ' fancies ' will rule at very 
 low figures, I apprehend. For one, I should not 
 like to hold them largely. I am afraid their 
 value would be light among the treasures we 
 are commanded to lay up in heaven." 
 
 "You're too serious, Mr. Cashing. I don't 
 see what this going in on a rising market has to 
 do with treasures in heaven. We're not talking 
 about dying, but living. The stock will move
 
 IN THE LAST TIME. 231 
 
 up in spite of anything you or I can do, and, for 
 the life of me, I can't see where the harm is in 
 taking advantage of a rise." 
 
 " All that I would gain, somebody else must 
 lose," said Mr. Gushing. 
 
 " Of course." 
 
 Mr. Gushing shook his head. "It won't suit 
 me, friend Slocum. I should be certain to hear 
 of some duped and unfortunate loser on the very 
 stock I sold as a fair article, when I knew it to 
 be valueless above a certain rate. If I were 
 to buy at twenty, I am afraid my conscience 
 would never permit me to sell at thirty or forty, 
 when I knew the purchaser would be swindled 
 out of half his money." 
 
 " You're too squeamish, Mr. Gushing ! I call 
 myself an honest man, and a Christian man also, 
 and for the life of me I can't see any harm in 
 taking advantage of a rising' stock, ' fancy ' or 
 no ' fancy.' " 
 
 " Excuse me, Mr. Slocum," said the other, 
 " but your remark about being a Christian man 
 leads me to say that I'm afraid Christianity 
 hangs very lightly on the conscience of a stock 
 speculator."
 
 232 NOT ANYTHING FOR PEACE. 
 
 "Did you never speculate in stocks, Mr. 
 Gushing?" The interrogator frowned a little. 
 He felt the remark as rather personal. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "What about the Christianity of your con 
 science, ha?" 
 
 "It hung too lightly, sir too lightly. I've 
 gone in a few times on the rising market, and 
 won. But for every dollar gained, I made a 
 loss in another direction." 
 
 " Ah ! That was unfortunate." 
 
 " So I felt it to be." 
 
 " You had one consolation, Mr. Gushing." 
 
 "What?" 
 
 " The stock speculations saved you." 
 
 How so ? " 
 
 " Of course the misfortunes you speak of had 
 no connection with them ; so what you lost by 
 one hand you made up with the other." 
 
 "On the contrary, Mr, Slocum, they were 
 intimately connected, and the losses were in 
 consequence of the speculations." 
 
 "That's a little remarkable." 
 
 "But no less true, sir."
 
 IN THE LAST TIME. 233 
 
 "What was the nature of these losses?" 
 
 "There are two kinds of riches, Mr. Slocum 
 earthly riches and heavenly riches. Gold and 
 good. I gained gold, but lost good. In secur 
 ing earthly treasure, I laid up just so much less 
 of treasure in heaven." 
 
 "I can't understand why, Mr. Gushing. You 
 didn't cheat anybody. Speculation is neither 
 robbing nor stealing. The article is in market, 
 and you buy at current quotations. When a rise 
 takes place, you sell. It may happen, and often 
 does, that the price falls, and then you lose. 
 You have adverse as well as favorable chances. 
 The thing is all open to the day." 
 
 "Gambling, sir, mere gambling," answered 
 Mr. Gushing. "A strife to gain what others 
 may lose, not a system of reciprocal benefits, 
 which is the Christian law of social life. It is 
 founded in an intense and eager selfishness, that 
 will not wait for the slow returns of useful work. 
 It helps nobody, and generally hurts everybody 
 whom it may happen to reach. Money, where 
 it does not come as a gift or benefaction, should 
 always represent a useful equivalent. It is a
 
 234 NOT ANYTHING FOE PEACE. 
 
 sign of value. But when I would possess my 
 neighbor's money without a fair return, then am. 
 I not covetous ? Do I not desire his goods ? Am 
 I not violating a divine commandment? The 
 agriculturist, the manufacturer, the merchant, 
 the artisan, and all who are engaged in produc 
 tive work or useful employments, serve the 
 common good, and become sharers, by virtue 
 of this service, in the <jommou wealth ; but the 
 speculator, like a tumor in the body, draws in 
 the rich blood, and gives back nothing but 
 fever, unhealthy excitement, disturbance of the 
 useful functions, and pain. That tumor, sir, is 
 no part of the true body of society, and it will 
 be extirpated in the last time. It may grow, as 
 other evil things grow here, but its life is oppo 
 site to heavenly life, and it will not be found in 
 heaven." 
 
 " You are too serious altogether," Mr. Slocum 
 made answer. " This is an extreme and abstract 
 view more ethical than practical." 
 
 " Than practical ! Why, my dear sir, the 
 evil consequences of what I am condemning all 
 right-thinking men see and deplore. The causes
 
 IN THE LAST TIME. 235 
 
 lie, as I have intimated, in an intense and eager 
 selfishness, that grasps for gold as the robber 
 grasps for plunder. Neither the speculator nor 
 the robber cares for others ; he does not gain by 
 work, production, or benefit of any kind, and 
 take his money as the reward of things useful, 
 but by the law of force or artifice. Is it not so? 
 Think ! " 
 
 Mr. Slocum was silent. 
 
 " There is a last time for us all, my friend," 
 said Mr. Gushing, speaking even more seriously 
 than before ; " a last time that is sure to come. 
 You and I have stepped across the line of 
 middle age. I will be fifty in a month, and 
 you have already accomplished the half century. 
 Five, ten, fifteen, twenty years at most, and we 
 shall be missed from our places among men. 
 Have you made your will?" 
 
 The question, coming so unexpectedly, gave 
 Mr. Slocum a start. 
 
 "Yes; of course," he answered. "I am too 
 systematic to neglect a thing of so much impor 
 tance. Life is uncertain." 
 
 "And in making it," said Mr. Gushing, "you
 
 236 NOT ANYTHING FOE PEACE. 
 
 considered well the nature and value of your 
 property, and disposed of it with justice and 
 judgment. As no part of your earthly posses 
 sions could be taken into the other life, you 
 provided for their equitable distribution." 
 
 "I did." 
 
 " As a wise and prudent man. And then, Mr. 
 Slocum, did not your thought go beyond, to that 
 state of existence which succeeds? to that real 
 world, where we are to abide forever? Did you 
 not think of the 'riches divine,' which are 
 spoken of in God's Holy Word, as possessed 
 by the righteous there? of the treasure which 
 our Lord enjoins upon us to lay up in heaven? 
 In leaving everything of the world behind us at 
 death, our future becomes a thing of momentous 
 consideration. The wealth of this world is 
 represented by gold and silver; that of the 
 spiritual world, into which we rise at death, 
 by goodness and truth. If we do not possess 
 spiritual riches at death, if we have no good in 
 our hearts nor truth in our minds, we shall be 
 poor, miserable, and wretched in the other 
 world.
 
 IN THE LAST TIME. 237 
 
 " These things have pressed themselves on my 
 consideration of late, and your remark about the 
 gain in this fancy stock speculation being sure as 
 death, sent them trooping through my mind 
 again. But I have occupied both you and my 
 self too long. Good morning." 
 
 " So you decline this opportunity ? " said Mr. 
 Slocuui, as his friend moved away. 
 
 "I turn from it, and with a shudder at the 
 thought that I was for an instant tempted. No, 
 sir ; there is a last time coming, and it may not 
 be afar off. I will not burden my conscience 
 with any transaction that is against the law of 
 heaven, into which I hope to rise when mortal 
 shall put on immortality. Good morning." 
 
 And the two men parted one to ponder 
 more deeply on the principles of rectitude, and 
 the laws of heavenly life by which man must be 
 governed, if he would build his house upon a 
 rock, the other to forget warning and suggestion 
 in the selfish love of gain, that impelled him to 
 the use of any means not in contravention of 
 human law, by which gold was to be won. 
 
 " Have you heard from Mr. Gushing within a
 
 238 NOT ANYTHING FOE PEACE. 
 
 day or two?" asked a business friend, address 
 ing Mr. Slocum, two or three weeks subse 
 quently. 
 
 "No. Why do you ask? Is he sick?" 
 
 "Very sick. The last I heard of him, the 
 doctors had but small hope of his recovery." 
 
 " You shock me ! Mr. Gushing ! Can it be 
 possible ! What ails him ? " 
 
 " Some disease of the heart, I understand." 
 
 " And not expected to recover ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 Mr. Slocum's countenance grew serious. His 
 thought recurred to his last interview with Mr. 
 Gushing, and he felt a slight chill running along 
 his nerves. In drawing so near to his friend 
 mid acquaintance, death seemed to stand most 
 unpleasantly near to himself. 
 
 All day the thoughts of Mr. Slocum kept 
 turning to the sick man, and in the evening he 
 called at his house to make inquiry as to his 
 condition. 
 
 "Will you go up and see him?" asked the 
 sad-faced wife of Mr. Gushing. 
 
 Mr. Slocum went up to the death-chamber;
 
 IN THE LAST TIME. 239 
 
 for, to one of them, that last time had indeed 
 come. A pale, placid face, and clear, calm eyes 
 met him. The Angel of Dissolution had placed 
 his signet there, and none could mistake the 
 sign. Mr. Gushing smiled feebly, but sweetly, 
 as he took the hand of his old business friend. 
 
 "I am pained to find you so ill," said Mr. 
 Slocum, in a troubled voice. 
 
 The smile did not fade from the sick man's 
 lips, as he answered, feebly, 
 
 " The time has come sooner than I expected ; 
 but I am not afraid. I think there is some 
 treasure laid up in heaven. If the amount is 
 not large, it is in good securities, I trust ; no 
 ' fancies,' friend Slocum ! No speculative stocks. 
 Nothing but what is truly spiritual and substan 
 tial ; that is, of love to God and the neighbor." 
 
 He shut his eyes, the smile still lingering 
 about his mouth. But it began fading slowly, 
 and when it died away, tranquil peace rested 
 calmly where the light had been. He was at 
 rest. 
 
 "No 'fancies' in the last time," said Mr. 
 Slocum, communing with his thoughts as he
 
 240 
 
 walked, in sober mood, homeward. "Will it be 
 so in my hour of extremity ? Will ttrcre be no 
 worthless securities in the treasure I have sought 
 to lay up in heaven, when I go, stripped of earthly 
 possessions, into the eternal world? God help 
 me, if my soul were required to-day ! I thought 
 him weak and foolish, when he would not go in 
 and win, as I have. I am richer to-day, through 
 the operation, by over five thousand dollars; 
 somebody will be poorer in the same amount 
 before sixty days ; but I am glad Gushing held 
 back. He could not have died so peaceably 
 with that burden on his mind. ' Fancies ' amid 
 the securities sought to be laid up in heaven ! 
 I never thought of that before. I must look 
 closer to my investments ; for what shall it 
 profit a man if he gain the whole world and 
 lose his own soul?" 
 
 On the next day Mr. Slocum sold out all his 
 speculative stocks, and has not since sought to 
 gain a single dollar except through legitimate 
 trade. He cannot forget Mr. Gushing, nor the 
 inevitable last time that conies to all. 
 
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