THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 EDDYSTOXE LIGHTHOUSE. Isle of VTight Stories.
 
 DESCRIPTIVE O 
 
 ' Oh ! hold it holy It will prove a bond 
 Of love and brotherhood, when all besldo 
 Hath been dissolved and tlto' wide ocean roll 
 Between the children of one fatherland, 
 This shall be their communion they shall send 
 Linked in one sacred feeling at one hoar, 
 In the same language the same prayer to Heaven, 
 And each resembling each in piety, 
 Pray for tho other's welfare." 
 
 THE PEATEB BOOK. Souiftey. 
 
 BY EMMA MACALLAN. 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 
 <Ccu. $h-ot. llpfsropnl .3uttfi.il> School Union 
 anU Church 33oofe -Socfetw, 
 
 763 BROADWAY. 
 
 1859.
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1859, 
 By the GENERAL PROTESTANT EPISCOPAL SUNDAY SCHOOL UNIOX 
 
 AND CHURCH BOOK SOCIETY, 
 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the 
 Southern District of New York. 
 
 RENNIE, SHEA & LINDSAY, 
 
 STERBOTYPIHS AND ELECTROTYPIRS, PUDNEY 4 RUSSELL, 
 81, 83, A 85 Centre-stlMt PKINTKHS, 
 
 Nw YORK. No. 79 JoUn-treet.
 
 17. 
 
 TO 
 
 THE CHILDREN OF THE CHURCH IN AMERICA, 
 |JCGC simple Stories 
 
 ABE AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 EASTER GARLANDS 9 
 
 THE LITTLE ZOOPHYTE GATHERERS 81 
 
 THE CHILDREN OF ST. CATHERINE'S CHANTRY 73 
 
 SAND DRAWINGS 109 
 
 A MOORLAND RAMBLE 147 
 
 A PARISH FESTIVAL . . 1U
 
 EASTER GARLANDS. 
 
 " Bring flowers to the shrine where we kneel in prayer : 
 They are Nature's offering, their place is there : 
 They speak of hope to -the fainting heart ; 
 With a voice of promise they come and part ; 
 They Bleep in dust through the wintry hours, 
 They break forth in glory bring flowers, BRIGHT flowers." 
 
 MRS. HEICANS. 
 
 AM going to tell my young read- 
 ers a story which, I hope, will 
 interest them. It is about two 
 children who lived, not many 
 years ago, in a tiny fisherman's 
 hut, situated near the lovely vil- 
 lage of B , beyond all question the most 
 
 picturesque and beautiful in the Isle of Wight. 
 Agnes and Robert were the only grand- 
 children of good old David Landon, a man 
 who was universally respected and beloved, 
 both for his honesty and uprightness of char- 
 acter, and also for the unfailing kindness of 
 his disposition. This boy and girl were the
 
 10 EASTER GARLAJfDS. 
 
 children of old David's youngest daughter, 
 whom God removed after a lingering illness, 
 when Robert was about two years old. Soon 
 afterwards their father also died; and before 
 the brightness of another Christmas had dawn- 
 ed upon the world, the good fisherman laid his 
 aged wife to rest beneath the whispering elm- 
 trees in the quiet churchyard of B . 
 
 Since that time, Agnes and her brother had 
 lived quite alone with their grandfather, in the 
 little cottage perched on the summit of a tall 
 cliff overhanging the dark-blue sea. They 
 were tolerably comfortable, and very cheerful 
 and contented. At the period of which I write, 
 Agnes was nearly twelve, and Robert only one 
 year younger. Like all of us they had faults, 
 but they earnestly endeavored to subdue them, 
 which, alas! is far from being the case with 
 many who have, like them, been taught that 
 ALL sin, even what we have perhaps allowed 
 ourselves to look upon as very trivial in its 
 nature, is yet grievous in the sight of a most 
 holy God ! 
 
 You will wonder by whom these children 
 were so carefully instructed, as their grand- 
 father was occupied from daybreak until seven 
 in the evening, only resting for an hour at 
 noon to partake of a slight repast, and to listen
 
 KASTER GARLANDS. 11 
 
 to his darlings' recital of all that had taken 
 place since he parted from them in the mom- 
 ing; but they enjoyed many advantages about 
 which I will tell you. 
 
 They regularly attended the parish school at 
 
 B , where they were taught to read and 
 
 write, and, what they had learned to value 
 most of all, were permitted to be present at the 
 week-day as well as the Sunday services. On 
 Wednesday afternoons they were in the habit 
 of assembling at the church to receive lessons 
 in sacred music, from a kind lady who resided 
 in the village, and thus they were enabled to 
 unite their voices with the multitude of the 
 " great congregation" in singing to the praise 
 of God those same beautiful and glorious an- 
 thems which, from earliest childhood, have 
 been familiar to us all. 
 
 Besides what I have already mentioned, 
 Agnes and the other girls were taught to sew ; 
 and likewise received instruction in the various 
 departments of household work, such as wash- 
 ing, ironing, and cooking, which knowledge 
 served to render them useful for the present to 
 their parents, and also tended greatly to fit 
 them for the duties of a life of industry, when 
 they should be of an age to seek employment 
 away from home.
 
 12 EASTEK GAKLANDS. 
 
 You will understand now why old David's 
 dwelling should always be so neat, and his 
 simple meals so carefully prepared ; it was 
 chiefly owing to the diligence and activity of 
 his little granddaughter. 
 
 Their cottage was one of the half dozen scat- 
 tered huts, which composed the tiny fishing 
 hamlet of L . It was situated about mid- 
 way down the Chine, as the wild, rocky passes, 
 opening on the sea, are sometimes called in 
 the Isle of "Wight. The walls were completely 
 overgrown with ivy, which is found in great 
 profusion throughout England, although we 
 (in America) so seldom see it to perfection. 
 At the back was a small kitchen garden, where 
 Robert contrived to cultivate a few cabbages, 
 turnips, and potatoes, together with a row of 
 currant-bushes, and some of the fine goose- 
 berries for which the British Isles are famed. 
 There was also a strip of ground in front, quite 
 gay with a variety of lovely flowers roses, 
 both pink and white ; the fragrant, starry jes- 
 samine; the delicate myrtle, with its snowy 
 petals ; the pure, waxen laurestinus ; the pale, 
 rose-tinted sea-thrift ; and the gorgeous scarlet 
 fuschia, which in this mild climate flourishes 
 luxuriantly in the open air. 
 
 One sunny afternoon, in the month of April,
 
 EASTER GARLANDS. 13 
 
 the children took their accustomed station 
 upon a lofty crag to watch for the appearance 
 of their grandfather. That had been a pleasant 
 morning! They had gone first to school, as 
 usual, and afterwards to church ; for it was 
 Easter-Eve, and during all that Holy "Week 
 their ordinary lesson^ had been laid aside, and 
 they had regularly attended Morning Service, 
 and devoted all their school-hours to the study 
 of the Catechism, and to learning hymns and 
 collects, and those passages in the Bible which 
 have reference to our Saviour's sufferings, and 
 to the glory of His resurrection. The anni- 
 versary of that joyful day was now at hand, 
 and their young hearts glowed with the warm 1 , 
 deep love of childhood at the thought, while 
 " the peace which passeth understanding" shed 
 its calm brightness upon each youthful brow. 
 
 Ere twenty minutes had elapsed the wished- 
 for sail appeared in view, and Kobert bounded 
 down the cliff eager to secure the shining cap- 
 tives, which were to be distributed that after- 
 noon among the principal families of B , 
 
 and the adjacent town. David, in the mean 
 time, having moored his vessel in the quiet 
 cove, slowly ascended the steep, winding foot- 
 path from the shore, and entered his tidy 
 kitchen, where he found the bread and cheese, 
 2
 
 14 EASTER GAKLAJJDS. 
 
 and the large dish of baked potatoes already 
 placed upon the table. 
 
 " Grandpa," began Agnes, when grace had 
 been reverently said, and all were seated at 
 their frugal meal, " are you not going to 
 B this afternoon ?" 
 
 " Yes, to be sure, child," was the reply, ut- 
 tered in a rough but most good-natured tone ; 
 " do you young lambkins want to drive there 
 in the cart ?" 
 
 "No, thank you," exclaimed both children 
 in a breath; and Robert added, ""We only 
 wished to be quite sure you would not miss 
 us, grandpa, if we were away, because we 
 should like so very much to go to the Land- 
 slip, if you do not mind." 
 
 " Pray, what do my runaways want to do 
 in the Landslip?" demanded the old fisher- 
 man, with a smile which plainly showed that 
 the young petitioners were tolerably sure of 
 his consent to this, or any other scheme of 
 harmless pleasure. 
 
 " I will tell you," Agnes answered in a gen- 
 tle voice ; " you know, grandpa, that to-mor- 
 row will be Easter-Day. Lady Grace Seldon 
 and Miss Howard were at the school this morn- 
 ing, and they asked us a great many questions 
 about Lent, and why the Church so strictly
 
 EASTER GARLANDS. 15 
 
 calls upon us to observe this, aud the other 
 solemn seasons appointed in the Prayer-book ; 
 and then Miss Howard spoke of Easter, and 
 said how very happy we should be that it is so 
 near ; and just before they left, Lady Grace 
 read aloud a most beautiful hymn, which she 
 said she should like all of us to learn." 
 
 "That was very kind of Lady Grace, my 
 darling," observed the old man, as he laid his 
 hand fondly upon the child's bright curls; 
 " only I do not quite see yet why this should 
 take you to the Landslip ; unless you have a 
 fancy for studying your lessons up in some 
 pigeon's nest among the cliffs." 
 
 ""Well, grandpa," exclaimed Agnes, when 
 both children had laughed merrily at old 
 David's jest, " you must know that all the 
 ladies are to be very busy for the rest of the 
 day in decorating the church ; it is quite full 
 of evergreens already, but Miss Howard said 
 there should be flowers too, and they think 
 they can collect enough from the gardens and 
 conservatories to till a large basket for the 
 chancel, and to twine around the railing and 
 the base of the font ; only -Miss Howard said 
 that it was a great privilege, in which ALL, 
 even the very youngest, should be allowed to 
 share; and then she turned to us, and said,
 
 16 EASTER GARLANDS. 
 
 ' Many of yon little ones have no flowers of 
 yonr own, but I am sure your parents will not 
 refuse to give yon some for such a purpose.' " 
 
 " No, indeed," exclaimed the old man, 
 warmly ; " take every one you can find in our 
 garden, by all means ; but go on, my pet." 
 
 " I knew you would be pleased to let us 
 have them," replied the little girl ; " but Mary 
 Miller has thought of something we can do 
 besides. This has been a very early spring, 
 and there are already many wild-flowers to be 
 found in sunny, sheltered places in the Land- 
 slip." 
 
 " Yes," interrupted Robert eagerly ; " there 
 are daisies, and buttercups, and cowslips, and 
 periwinkles, and violets, and cuckoo-flowers, 
 and never so many others." 
 
 " And," resumed his sister, " Mary proposes 
 that we should all go and gather our baskets 
 full, and take them to the ladies ; they will 
 keep nicely in wet sand until to-morrow, just 
 as the garden-flowers do." 
 
 " Mary Miller is a thoughtful girl," returned 
 the fisherman ; " but, children, it his high time 
 we were away ; make haste and get me all the 
 prettiest blossoms you can find, and I will 
 leave them for you at the church. Now, then, 
 good-bye till seven."
 
 EASTER GARLANDS. 17 
 
 By three o'clock, Robert and his sister, hav- 
 ing finished all their little duties, prepared to 
 set out upon their expedition. Following the 
 course of the sparkling streamlet that ran 
 foaming and glittering through the chasm, 
 they soon reached the head of the romantic 
 Chine ; and passing the solitary watch-tower, 
 they paused one moment to look back upon 
 the richly wooded gorge they had just quitted, 
 and at the snow-white Culver cliffs which rose 
 beyond, and then rapidly pursued their way 
 across the breezy downs, and through a nar- 
 row lane, bordered by hedges of hawthorn and 
 wild brambles, until they reached a low stile, 
 which marked the entrance to the Landslip. 
 
 These landslips form one of the most singu- 
 lar and interesting features in the scenery of 
 this enchanting isle. Several have occurred 
 from time to time, at different points along the 
 southern coast, and thus the UNDERCLIFF, so 
 rich in varied and peculiar beauties, sprang 
 into existence. I can scarcely explain to my 
 young readers the exact nature of these won- 
 derful phenomena ; but they are strongly cal- 
 culated to inspire us with feelings of reverence 
 and awe towards the great and all-holy God, 
 who created this earth on which we dwell, and 
 
 all the countless worlds which we behold, and 
 
 20
 
 18 EASTER GAKLANDS. 
 
 whose unerring wisdom guides and sustains 
 them in their course. 
 
 But an overwhelming sense of the Al- 
 mighty's power is far from being the only 
 emotion one experiences while exploring the 
 strange, wild recesses of "East-End," as the 
 tract of ground upon which the children had 
 just entered is sometimes called ; for although 
 it is remarkable for its desolate and gloomy 
 grandeur, yet an air of exquisite and luxuriant 
 loveliness is imparted by the endless variety 
 of underwood and wild-flowers, with here and 
 there a graceful mountain-ash, springing from 
 a cleft or crevice in some mighty, fallen cliff; 
 while the ivy clothes with its drapery of living 
 green many a huge, disjointed fragment of 
 dark rock, amid which innumerable creepers 
 twine their fantastic garlands; and above 
 frowns the stupendous barrier of gray cliffs, 
 from which the giant masses have been torn. 
 
 It is this desolate but most romantic tract, 
 which separates the Luccombe Downs from 
 
 B . A winding pathway runs through 
 
 the whole extent, and the view from certain 
 points is truly grand. East-End is a favorite 
 resort of tourists, and very many have climbed 
 its rocky steeps, and gazed with rapt delight 
 upon the glorious scene ; but few or none have
 
 EASTEB GARLAXDS. 19 
 
 thoroughly explored the hidden dells and wild 
 sequestered nooks which Agnes and her brother 
 knew so well. 
 
 Leaving the lower range of cliffs, which rise 
 abruptly from the shore, the children crossed 
 the visitor's footpath, and hastily began the 
 difficult ascent which lay before them. Up 
 they mounted, higher and higher yet, until 
 they paused quite breathless beneath the 
 shadow of the tall, gray chain, where the 
 kite and raven made their home, and wheeled 
 round and round in rapid flight, filling the air 
 with their harsh, yet strangely musical notes. 
 
 Amid the countless lone recesses of the 
 Landslip is one still wilder than the rest. It 
 is a deep, secluded dell, almost entirely shut in 
 by lofty rocks some bare and rugged ; others 
 adorned with the rich, waving tracery of climb- 
 ing plants. This is the usual meeting-place of 
 the village children, and on the afternoon of 
 which I speak numbers of little forms were 
 clustered around the large, smooth stone that 
 formed the centre-table of their sylvan bower, 
 awaiting with impatience the arrival of their 
 
 friends from L , before proceeding to the 
 
 business of the day. 
 
 A merry shout of welcome greeted them as 
 they approached, for owing to their sweet,
 
 20 EASTER GARLANDS. 
 
 unselfish tempers, Agnes and Robert were uni- 
 versal favorites. A few pleasant words were 
 interchanged, and soon the young people were 
 scattered among the sunny knolls, and in the 
 glades and dingles, seeking for the bright 
 treasures of the joyous spring. 
 
 Sweet and most highly prized those treasures 
 were ; and peals of ringing laughter mingled 
 with the wild-bird's song, when one more pre- 
 cious than the rest was added to their store. 
 At length the baskets were quite laden with 
 the spoil, but still the youthful party wandered 
 on, when suddenly a cry of pleasure broke 
 from the lips of two little girls who had 
 strayed to some distance from their compan- 
 ions, and reached a quiet, sheltered nook, wa- 
 tered by a clear, crystal stream ; the children 
 were kneeling on the emerald turf, eagerly 
 bending over some plant which grew upon the 
 margin of the rill. 
 
 " What is it, Nelly ?" inquired Mary Miller ; 
 but there was no need of a reply. For, lo ! 
 the greensward of that fairy dell was literally 
 gemmed with tufts of primroses, that loveliest 
 of all England's wild-flowers, the pride and 
 ornament of the dewy glade. One basket was 
 filled entirely with the new-found treasure, 
 and very fair did the soft, pale-yellow bios-
 
 EASTKIi GARLANDS. 2* 
 
 soms look, nestling beneath their broad, green 
 leaves. 
 
 " Miss Howard will be surprised to find the 
 primroses in bloom already," remarked Agnes, 
 while her dark eyes sparkled with delight at 
 the thought of giving pleasure to one whom 
 she so dearly loved. 
 
 "But it is growing late now," observed 
 Mary Miller ; " should we not all think of re- 
 turning home?" 
 
 The children agreed as to the wisdom of the 
 proposition ; and leaving the Landslip with re- 
 luctance, they walked together to the entrance 
 of the village, and there, intrusting the pre- 
 cious baskets to the care of Mary and her 
 sisters, who lived in a pretty cottage near the 
 church, the young friends separated, with the 
 hope of again meeting ere many hours should 
 elapse. 
 
 Easter-Day rose bright and clear; and the 
 joyous carol of the wild-birds, amid the leafy 
 arches, touched a chord of sympathetic happi- 
 ness in many a youthful heart. While yet the 
 sweet, glad music of the church-bells was ring- 
 ing on the morning breeze, the long train of 
 school children, with Agnes and Robert in 
 their midst, wound slowly along the shaded 
 pathway, and entered beneath the low Nor-
 
 22 EASTEK GARLANDS. 
 
 man porch, into the beautiful church. Very 
 beautiful it was, in truth, on that calm, bright 
 morning, as the rich sunlight streamed in 
 through the painted windows, and fell with 
 softened lustre upon the assembled throng, 
 casting a flood of gem-like radiance around 
 the lofty arches, and illumining the " darkly 
 brilliant evergreens," together with the wreaths 
 and garlands of fair, fragrant flowers meet 
 offering at the sacred shrine ! 
 
 And then the full tones of the grand organ 
 pealed through the aisles, and the pure, young 
 voices of the children blended in sweet har- 
 mony with those of the elders of the congre- 
 gation, in the high Easter strain of triumph : 
 
 " Christ, our passover, is sacrificed for us : therefore 
 let us keep the feast. 
 
 " Not with the old leaven ; neither with the leaven 
 of malice and wickedness : but with the unleavened 
 bread of sincerity and truth. 
 
 " Christ being raised from the dead, dieth no more : 
 death hath no more dominion over him. 
 
 " For in that he died, he died unto sin once : but in 
 that he liveth, he liveth unto God. 
 
 "Likewise reckon ye also yourselves to be dead in- 
 deed unto sin: but alive unto God, through Jesus Christ 
 our Lord. 
 
 " Christ is risen from the dead : and become the first 
 fruits of them that slept.
 
 EASTER GARLANDS. 26 
 
 " For since by man came death : by man came also 
 the resurrection of the dead. 
 
 " For as in Adam all die : even so in Christ shall all 
 be made alive. 
 
 " Glory be to the Father, and to the Son : and to the 
 Holy Ghost : 
 
 u As it was in the beginning, is now and ever shall 
 be : world without end. Amen." 
 
 I have copied this beautiful anthem, in full, 
 from the English Prayer-book, for my young 
 friends in America ; not that I fancy it is not 
 already known to all who have enjoyed the 
 privilege of being early admitted "into the 
 fellowship of Christ's religion ;" but simply 
 because I hope that by thus accustoming our- 
 selves to observe the close similarity which 
 exists between our ritual and that in use among 
 our brethren in distant lands, we may all learn 
 daily more perfectly to feel tha,t we are indeed 
 ONE with them; and to realize the blessed 
 truth, from infancy familiar to our lips, that 
 " the Holy Church throughout all the world" 
 must ever be the same. 
 
 The early hours of that Easter-Day were not 
 more peaceful than its close. When the Even- 
 ing Service was concluded, Agnes and her 
 brother accompanied their young companions
 
 24: EASTEK GARLANDS. 
 
 to the school-house, as was their usual custom ; 
 and immediately upon being dismissed, they 
 hastened down the valley to meet their grand- 
 father, whom they found seated on the mossed 
 stone-wall, beneath the canopy of elm-trees, 
 watching the graceful motions of two stately 
 swans, as they floated on the surface of the 
 shadowy pool which bordered the highway, 
 or from time to time were almost lost to view 
 amid the overhanging foliage, which fringed 
 the sloping bank beyond. 
 
 " Children," said old David, as his little ones 
 drew near, " I have been thinking whether we 
 might not walk across the downs to "Wroxall ; 
 I heard yesterday that poor Johnny Allan is 
 much worse, and perhaps there may be some- 
 thing we can do to help him." 
 
 "Let us go at once, grandpa," exclaimed 
 Robert, springing from his seat ; but Agnes 
 said, in a tone of hesitation : " I should like 
 very much to see poor Johnny, grandpa, but 
 w r e walked so far yesterday that I feel quite 
 tired. Might I not stay quietly in the church- 
 yard until you come back ?" 
 
 " By all means, if you please, my dear," was 
 the reply ; " only we may, perhaps, be late, 
 and if so, I will call for you at Mary Miller's." 
 
 With this understanding, David and his
 
 EASTER GARLANDS. 25 
 
 grandson went their way. Left alone, Agnes 
 waited until their forms had disappeared along 
 the winding road, and then slowly retraced 
 her steps towards the now almost-deserted 
 church-yard. She was a singularly thought- 
 ful child, and many were the hours which she 
 had passed within these sacred precincts 
 sometimes entirely alone, or with only a book 
 as a companion ; at others, engaged in pleas- 
 ant conversation with her darling brother, 
 from whom she had never in her life been long 
 separated. 
 
 Agnes did not on this afternoon wander 
 among the tombstones, as was frequently her 
 habit, but leaning for support against a pile 
 of rocks, completely festooned with ivy and 
 the wild clematis, she stood watching the de- 
 clining sun, whose last rays seemed to shed a 
 halo around the little church ; while the lofty 
 hills, which rose immediately in its rear, were 
 bathed in the rich, golden glow, and a faint, 
 rosy light was cast upon the distant sea. 
 
 " I thought I saw you follow this footpath," 
 observed a gentle voice ; and, turning quickly, 
 Agnes beheld Miss Howard by her side. 
 
 " I wished to thank you and your compan- 
 ions," continued the lady, " for having so suc- 
 cessfully aided in our work." 
 
 3
 
 26 EASTEJR GARLANDS. 
 
 " It pleased us to do it, ma'am," replied the 
 little girl, much, gratified by her kind friend's 
 commendation. 
 
 " This has been a happy day, my child, has 
 it not?" resumed Miss Howard, after a mo- 
 ment's silence. 
 
 " Yes, very happy," answered Agnes ; " only 
 " the last word had been involuntarily ut- 
 tered. She stopped, and seemed unwilling to 
 proceed. 
 
 " Only what ?" demanded her companion, 
 kindly ; " has any thing gone wrong with you, 
 my dear?" Do not be afraid to tell me, for 
 perhaps we may find means of bringing mat- 
 ters riffht." 
 
 O 
 
 " O no, ma'am, nothing is amiss !" exclaimed 
 Agnes, quickly. " I was only going to say," 
 she added, in a lower tone, " that I hope to be 
 much happier before many Easters pass. Is 
 it wrong to think of that, Miss Howard, now 
 while I am so very young ?" 
 
 They had wandered on while speaking, and 
 had reached the most retired corner of the 
 church-yard, where, overshadowed by the sil- 
 very foliage of a drooping willow, a monu- 
 ment of purest marble had been lately raised, 
 in memory of one whose name was yet fondly 
 cherished in the homes of B , a sweet, en-
 
 EASTER GARLANDS. 27 
 
 gaging child of tender years, the heiress of one 
 of the most noble and influential families in the 
 parish. The design was touching, from its ex- 
 treme simplicity a cross, surmounted by a 
 snow-white dove, most exquisitely wrought. 
 The idea had been taken from the writings of 
 an English clergyman, with whose beautiful 
 allegories all my readers will, I trust, be one 
 day familiar. 
 
 "Lady Eveline Villiers was not so old as 
 you are," observed Miss Howard, as she rev- 
 erently sprinkled a shower of pale, starry prim- 
 roses upon the little grave; "and there are 
 others here who, at a yet earlier age, were 
 taken to their rest. No ! we cannot think too 
 often of the glory, and all-perfect blessedness 
 of the Resurrection ; and while earnestly striv- 
 ing, through God's grace, to fulfil to the utter- 
 most every duty required of us on earth, we 
 are yet permitted to rejoice in the conscious- 
 ness that our sojourn here will be but for a 
 little season." 
 
 "Very short, indeed, it may be," rejoined 
 Agnes, as she gazed thoughtfully upon the 
 sculptured marble; "but I di4 not speak of 
 dying then." she added, with characteristic 
 truthfulness, unwilling to convey a false im- 
 pression to another's mind.
 
 28 EASTEK GARLANDS. 
 
 "And of what then, dear child?" inquired 
 Miss Howard, in a sympathizing tone. 
 
 Agnes hesitated, and the color mounted to 
 her cheek ; it was an effort to express her se- 
 cret feelings, but she felt instinctively that she 
 was in the presence of one by whom all her 
 holiest aspirations would be understood. 
 
 " When I am older," she began, while her 
 voice trembled and her eyes filled with tears, 
 "it will be different; I shall not always be 
 obliged to leave the church." 
 
 Miss Howard comprehended in an instant. 
 
 "That should, indeed, be our childhood's 
 earnest wish, my love," she answered, in a 
 voice of feeling. " You have already been 
 made by Baptism a member of the Church. 
 God grant that at no very distant day you 
 may be admitted to the full enjoyment of all 
 her highest privileges." 
 
 Long did the lady and her young companion 
 linger in the quiet church-yard. Neither felt 
 inclined for further conversation ; the heart of 
 one was raised in earnest prayer, in behalf of 
 the youthful beings to whose welfare so large 
 a portion of her time and talents were de- 
 voted ; and Agnes was musing on Miss How- 
 ard's words. 
 
 "It may be very soon," she whispered, when
 
 EASTER GARLANDS. 29 
 
 at length they left the tombstone, and slowly 
 winding up the hill, paused for an instant on 
 its summit, to take one last look at the little 
 church so tranquilly reposing in the valley, 
 beneath the shelter of the purple, shadowy 
 downs. A sweet smile brightened Miss How- 
 ard's face, as she fondly clasped the little hand 
 she held in hers, and Agnes felt content, al- 
 though no word was spoken. 
 
 Two years passed swiftly by ; and then once 
 more a cloudless Easter dawned. One fort- 
 night only had elapsed since Agnes stood be- 
 fore the altar to renew her baptismal vow, in 
 the solemn rite of Confirmation ; and now she 
 knelt between Miss Howard and her aged 
 grandfather, to join in a yet holier service. 
 She was happy then quietly and serenely 
 happy ; the period to which she had so long 
 and anxiously looked forward had arrived, 
 the day of her first Communion. 
 
 " I almost envied you this morning, Agnes," 
 observed Robert, after they had left the 
 church, and walked some way in silence. 
 
 " May I say so to Miss Howard 2" inquired 
 Agnes, eagerly ; " or should you rather speak, 
 instead, to Mr. Mordaunt ?" 
 
 Robert shook his head. 
 
 " I do not feel so always," he answered, 
 30
 
 30 EASTEK GAKLANDS. 
 
 * 
 
 sadly ; " and I fear that Mr. Mordaunt would 
 say I am too young." 
 
 " Mr. Mordaunt said to me," replied his sis- 
 ter, timidly, " that it is a great advantage to 
 think of our Confirmation for at least a year 
 beforehand, and by that time, Bertie, you will 
 be as old as I am. I feel now as though that 
 were my only wish," she added, laying her 
 hand affectionately on his arm. 
 
 "I shall like to look forward to it, at all 
 events,"' returned Robert ; " and Agnes, it 
 would please me to hear all that Mr. Mor- 
 daunt said to you and Mary Miller, and the 
 others, when you were at the rectory, and to 
 read the little books Miss Howard gave you. 
 Only do not mention it just yet to any one but 
 grandpa, please," he continued, hastily, as they 
 reached the termination of their walk. 
 
 Nothing further passed that morning on the 
 subject between Agnes and her brother ; but 
 in the course of a few weeks Robert, with his 
 grandfather's approval, and to the great joy of 
 Agnes, gained courage to converse freely with 
 his kind friend, Mr. Mordaunt, and was by 
 him admitted to the number of the candidates 
 for Confirmation, for the ensuing year.
 
 THE 
 
 " The briefer life, 
 The earlier immortality." 
 
 BOUT seven miles to the west of 
 
 B , there is a tract of country 
 
 remarkable for its desolate and 
 dreary aspect. It consists, for 
 the most part, of bleak, solitary 
 moors, sprinkled here and there 
 with patches of wild brambles, heather, and 
 the prickly-gorse, and interspersed with frag- 
 ments of gray, fallen rocks, piled in an infinite 
 variety of fantastic forms, which, by the aid of 
 imagination, may be readily converted into 
 shattered columns, pinnacles, and towers, to 
 which indeed, in some instances, they bear a 
 rude resemblance. 
 
 The character of the scenery is perpetually 
 changing ; for the LANDSLIPS, to which I have 
 before alluded, are of frequent recurrence in 
 this locality, and the firm foundations of the
 
 32 THE LITTLE ZOOPHYTE GATHEKEKS. 
 
 mighty wall of cliffs that bounds the valley 
 are gradually, but surely, becoming under- 
 mined. Among the deep sequestered gorges 
 of the hills, an isolated farm-house or a tiny 
 hamlet may be sometimes seen, all smiling 
 with that peculiar gleam of true home-com- 
 fort, for which England and America are alike 
 distinguished. There are also little fishing 
 settlements along the shore ; and, from time to 
 time, an ancient ivy-mantled church, of simple 
 but imposing aspect, meets the view ; its lowly 
 porch, surmounted by a stone cross, rudely 
 carved ; while from its hoary tower the sooth- 
 ing, solemn music of the chimes rings out to 
 the hoarse murmur of the sea. 
 
 Near such a church as I have just described, 
 are situated the remote but picturesque village 
 of Blackgang and its adjacent chine, which 
 latter forms the western termination of the 
 Undercliif, or at least of its most interesting 
 features. It is the chosen retreat of such vis- 
 itors as delight in the gloomy and sublime in 
 nature, rather than the beautiful. The con- 
 trast which this chine presents to that of Lnc- 
 combe, so rich in glimpses of luxuriant loveli- 
 ness, is striking in the extreme : here all is 
 
 ' O 
 
 wild and savage grandeur ; the tall, bare rocks 
 stand black and grim, guarding the narrow
 
 THK LTTTLK ZOOI'lIYTK GATHERERS. 33 
 
 pass; and the very rivulet which trickles 
 through the defile is not pure and sparkling like 
 most mountain streams, but wears a sombre, 
 yellowish hue, imparted doubtless by the iron- 
 ore which abounds in the surrounding crags. 
 
 There are some pleasant homes, however, in 
 this lonely spot ; and very lovely do they look, 
 standing in the midst of their neat and well- 
 kept gardens, the bloom and fertility of which 
 contrast so singularly with the encircling waste. 
 
 In a private drawing-room of the romantic 
 little inn, three ladies were seated around a 
 work-table, which stood in the recess of a deep 
 bay-casement that overlooked the blue ocean, 
 with its long line of rocky coast ; while in the 
 far distance was visible the bold outline of a 
 magnificent range of chalk-cliffs, whose lofty 
 pinnacles glittered like snow beneath the 
 sparkling rays of a summer's sun. 
 
 " The snow-white cliffs of England, which I 
 have so very often longed to see !" exclaimed 
 the youngest of the party, a sweet and gentle- 
 looking girl of about sixteen, as, with a half 
 sigh, she laid aside her pencils, and stood be- 
 side the window, gazing thoughtfully upon the 
 glorious panorama. 
 
 " Grace is home-sick already, I suspect," ob- 
 served her sister Helen, laughing.
 
 34 THE LITTLE ZOOPHYTE GATHERERS. 
 
 " I was only thinking of papa," said Grace ; 
 " and wishing that he and all our dear friends 
 at home were with us to share in the delight 
 of this first visit to the shores of England." 
 
 " I fancy that will scarcely be required, my 
 love," remarked Mrs. Melville ; " at least, if 
 all your epistles are to be like the one which 
 you sent off this morning." 
 
 "You know that I intend to keep a journal 
 for papa," said Grace ; " and I fear many of 
 my letters will be still longer than this first 
 one ; but even that is not quite like being with 
 one's friends, for writing can never take the 
 place of conversation." 
 
 " ]S"o, indeed ; one feels the difference sadly. 
 Still we should try to make the most of those 
 blessings which are within our reach ; and I 
 did not expect YOU would feel lonely here in 
 England, Grace." 
 
 " I am not lonely, I assure you, dear mam- 
 ma. How could I be with you and Helen, 
 and surrounded, too, by so many in whom we 
 take an interest ?" 
 
 "The whole population here, I imagine," 
 interrupted Helen ; " or, at all events, a large 
 proportion. Do you know, mamma, that yes- 
 terday, in church, I quite realized the feeling 
 which appears to afford you and Grace such
 
 THE LITTLK ZOOPHYTE GATHERERS. 35 
 
 peculiar satisfaction ; it did seem as though we 
 were brought nearer to our distant friends. 
 Yes; our Liturgy is undoubtedly a bond of 
 union, and a strong one." 
 
 " I am truly glad to hear you say so, my 
 love ; and when that which is now a mere 
 transitory emotion shall have become a fixed 
 and abiding principle of action, I think I can 
 venture to affirm that you will find a vast in- 
 crease of happiness in daily life." 
 
 The deep-toned bells of the old church were 
 faintly heard. 
 
 "Eleven! Can it be possible?" exclaimed 
 Mrs. Melville, looking at her watch. "My 
 dear children, we must decide upon our excur- 
 sion without delay." 
 
 " It is too late for Carisbuke, mamma," said 
 Helen ; " let us go there to-morrow instead, 
 and leave here by nine, so as to have plenty of 
 time for wandering among the ruins." 
 
 "Yes, perhaps that will be best," replied 
 her mother ; " but where, then, shall we go 
 to-day?" 
 
 " Indeed, I hardly know, mamma ; for there 
 is so much of interest to be seen on every side, 
 that one is really at a loss which way to turn. 
 "What should you say to a drive along the Un- 
 dercliff, with no especial object in view, ex-
 
 36 THE LITTLE ZOOPHYTE GATHEEEES. 
 
 cept to explore wherever we may chance to 
 wish ?" 
 
 " That will do admirably well, I think ; so 
 Grace, my love, will you just ring the bell? 
 I should like the carriage to be brought round 
 immediately." 
 
 Generally speaking, Grace Melville would 
 have been delighted at the prospect of such an 
 expedition as the one proposed, but upon this 
 occasion she had a fancy for a ramble on the 
 shore ; Helen and her mother being invalids, 
 would not be able to participate in this amuse- 
 ment, and as it seemed probable that every 
 day of their short sojourn in the village would 
 be fully taken up with sight-seeing, she deter- 
 mined, should nothing prevent, to improve 
 the present opportunity, perhaps the only one 
 she should ever have. 
 
 " If you and Helen do not mind, mamma," 
 she answered, " I believe I shall leave you to 
 your own devices, just for once, and wander 
 off among the cliffs. One loses so much pleas- 
 ure in a carriage!" 
 
 " Well, my dear, I see no possible objection, 
 except that Helen and I shall be sure to miss 
 you sadly; but you had best consider for a 
 moment. You know that we expect to leave 
 for Devonshire next week, therefore you may
 
 THE LITTLE ZOOPHYTE GATHEKER8. 37 
 
 lose the opportunity of seeing something that 
 you will afterwards regret." 
 
 " Only no one can tell ine exactly what," 
 returned Grace, laughing ; " so, dear mamma, 
 I am quite content to run the risk ; and now I 
 will give orders for the carriage, while you 
 and Helen are putting on your bonnets.' 1 
 
 " Do not forget to ask for a basket of sand- 
 wiches and cakes," said Helen, turning back, 
 as she was about to leave the room. 
 
 " And Grace, dear, please say we should like 
 tea at seven, with a roast chicken and a plate 
 of muffins," added Mrs. Melville. 
 
 "I will attend to every thing, mamma," 
 Grace answered, as the tidy maid-servant came 
 into the room. 
 
 "Thank you, my love; do not fail to provide 
 some luncheon for yourself, and pray be here 
 punctually by half-past six ; and, above all, be 
 particularly careful how you venture among 
 those frightful precipices." 
 
 Grace promised obedience ; and then having 
 given the necessary directions, she followed her 
 mother and sister to their apartment. 
 
 The two elder ladies were soon equipped in 
 readiness for their drive, and Grace having 
 seen them comfortably established in the car- 
 riage, returned for her supply of luncheon, and 
 
 4
 
 38 THE LITTLE ZOOPHYTE GATHEEEES. 
 
 a sketch-book. She was naturally quick in 
 all her movements, so before ten minutes had 
 elapsed all preparations were complete, and 
 she was on her way. 
 
 "Miss Melville!" exclaimed the good old 
 landlady, as Grace passed her in the verandah, 
 " can you really be going for a walk at this 
 hour?" 
 
 With a look of surprise at the question, 
 Grace replied in the affirmative. 
 
 " It is so very warm," pursued Mrs. Morris ; 
 " I am sure you will find it too oppressive to 
 go far." 
 
 Grace could not repress a smile. It was 
 August, to be sure, yet the heat was any thing 
 but overpowering, according to her American 
 ideas. 
 
 " You forget that I am accustomed to a 
 much warmer climate," she replied. " In my 
 opinion this is only mild and pleasantjveather. 
 Indeed, I am not sure that a few degrees more 
 of heat would not be quite acceptable." 
 
 Poor Mrs. Morris, who was already over- 
 come, or " greatly exhausted," to use her own 
 expression, drew back within the shadow of 
 the porch, and watched, with unfeigned aston- 
 ishment, while Grace tranquilly pursued her 
 way along the sunny gravel-walk ; and when
 
 THE LITTLE ZOOPIIYTE GATHERERS. 39 
 
 the slight form was quite lost to view, she 
 turned, with languid steps, to superintend the 
 operations in her dairy. 
 
 Grace, in the mean time, having crossed the 
 down, soon found herself at the entrance of 
 the chine. The winding pathway was not dif- 
 ficult at first, and she did not require to make 
 use of the strong rope which had been placed 
 as a support on either side ; but the latter part 
 was far less easy. Grace stopped to rest for a 
 few moments before attempting to proceed ; 
 and then clinging with all her strength to the 
 supporting rope, she slowly made her way 
 down the steep rock-hewn steps, breasting the 
 high winds that came sweeping up the chasm 
 from the restless, agitated surface of the ocean. 
 
 It was a grand scene, when she had reached 
 the shining, yellow sands, and looked out over 
 the heaving billows and around upon the rug- 
 ged, barren cliffs, which frowned along the 
 coast. She had always had a passion for rock- 
 scenery, and here there was ample room for 
 the gratification of her taste. Upon a project- 
 ing platform, slightly elevated above the shore, 
 stood a tiny cottage, plain and completely un- 
 adorned in its exterior, but deriving a certain 
 charm from the singularity of its situation. In 
 her eagerness to gain the beach, Grace had
 
 40 THE LITTLE ZOOPHYTE GATHERERS. 
 
 scarcely noticed it in her descent j but now 
 feeling very thirsty, she resolved upon apply- 
 ing there for a glass of water. 
 
 A small table stood in front of the house, 
 containing a number of fossil remains and 
 specimens of minerals, together with a basin 
 of salt-water, in which were floating several 
 of the rare and beautiful zoophytes, or marine 
 animals, which abound in this locality. Over 
 the door was an inscription, stating this to be 
 the site of an " Aluminous Chalybeate Spring," 
 which had been discovered some years pre- 
 viously by a celebrated physician. Grace was 
 acquainted with the reputation of this spring, 
 and she was also aware that large quantities 
 of the water had been exported to the Crimea, 
 where it had proved of great service to Miss 
 Nightingale, in the prosecution of her invalu- 
 able labors among the sick and suffering. 
 
 A little girl, apparently some seven or eight 
 years old, came out in reply to Grace's sum- 
 mons ; and, on being asked for a glass of water, 
 she speedily produced a tumbler filled with a 
 deep yellowish fluid, which, however cold and 
 pure it might be, was certainly not inviting to 
 the eye. 
 
 " The mineral water, I suppose," said Grace, 
 as she received it from her hand.
 
 THE LJTTLK ZOOPHYTE GATHERERS. 41 
 
 The child replied in the affirmative. 
 
 " I am a little afraid to try it, lest it should 
 do me harm," continued Grace; "for I am 
 quite well, and do not stand in need of tonics. 
 Might I not ask you for some of the ordinary 
 water, such as you use yourselves ?" 
 
 "There is no other here, Miss," said the 
 child. "We always use this, even for our tea, 
 and it never injures any of us; and visitors, 
 generally, consider it very strengthening." 
 
 Still Grace was resolute. Having seen so 
 much of illness from her childhood, she had 
 gradually acquired an almost nervous dread 
 of doing any thing which was likely to impair 
 her naturally vigorous constitution. Yery pos- 
 sibly a draught from these cool mineral springs 
 might have a contrary effect, but it was an 
 EXPERIMENT, at all events, and she had the 
 good sense to avoid all such unnecessary risks. 
 The appearance of the child, too, tended only 
 to confirm her resolution, for she was very pale 
 and fragile, bearing no trace whatever of the 
 pure rose-bloom, which is so peculiarly charac- 
 teristic of most English children. 
 
 But Grace still suffered painfully from 
 thirst ; and determined not to be discouraged, 
 she made another effort. 
 
 " I have been told that there is a waterfall 
 40
 
 4:2 THE LITTLE ZOOPHYTE GATHERERS. 
 
 somewhere in this chine. Might I not fill a 
 tumbler there, or is it iron- water like the well ?" 
 
 "No, Miss, it is not iron-water," replied the 
 little girl ; " but it has not rained for several 
 days, and I do not believe there will be enough 
 to fill your glass ; however, if you please, I 
 will go and try," she added, in an obliging 
 tone. 
 
 Grace followed, without precisely compre- 
 hending the last remark ; but she was not left 
 long in doubt, for upon turning an angle of 
 the rock, she found herself in a gloomy hollow, 
 shut in by towering crags, down the face of 
 which streamed a tiny rill that fell, drop by 
 drop, at intervals, into the stony basin below. 
 Grace smiled, as she recalled Niagara and 
 Trenton ; and still more, when she compared 
 this with the foaming cataract depicted in the 
 guide-book : but, perhaps, it might really be 
 BO in winter, after heavy storms ; and, at all 
 events, she was not inclined to criticise, in the 
 midst of the sublime works of God ; so she 
 merely thanked her little guide for having 
 shown her " the waterfall." And then, as they 
 stood once more before the cottage, she began 
 examining the zoophytes, and asking questions 
 relative to their nature and habits. 
 
 " This is a sea-anemone, if you please, Miss,"
 
 SEA-ANEMONE. 
 
 Isle of Wight Stories.
 
 THE LITTLE ZOOPHYTE OATHEEEE8. 43 
 
 said the child ; " and," she continued, pointing 
 to a beautiful creature, with a skin as smooth 
 as velvet, and covered with bright crimson 
 spots, " that is a strawberry-plant." 
 
 At this moment -the "strawberry-plant," 
 which had before been curled up into a small 
 round ball, slowly unrolled itself, and displayed 
 to Grace's eyes a rich and pleasing variety of 
 design and coloring. 
 
 "They do so often of a morning, when I 
 change their water," remarked little Maggie 
 Wilson ; " and some of them are a great deal 
 prettier than this one." 
 
 " And where do you go to look for them ?" 
 inquired Grace. 
 
 "All along the shore, Miss," replied the 
 child ; ''but the finest we get are from Rocken- 
 End. I am going there this afternoon, with 
 Ned and Johnny Dawson, and Mary, and Fan- 
 ny, and Martha Blake." 
 
 " And is it very far from here ?" 
 
 " No, Miss ; it is not much more than a 
 mile." 
 
 " "Well, Maggie," resumed Grace, " I should 
 like to go with you, if you do not mind, for I 
 have a great curiosity to know more of zo- 
 ophytes. I have never seen them before, ex- 
 cept in an aquarium, which is a large glass
 
 44 THE LITTLE ZOOPHYTE GATHERERS. 
 
 vessel, fitted up for their accommodation. It 
 is now just half-past one shall you be ready 
 to set out by two ?" 
 
 The child assured her that there would be 
 nothing to prevent, as she expected her com- 
 panions every moment ; and having promised 
 to return very shortly, Grace retraced her 
 steps towards the inn, for the twofold purpose 
 of indulging in a draught of water, and of 
 adding a sponge-cake and some raspberry-tarts 
 to her store, since there was no pastry-cook in 
 the village. Then, after filling a smaller basket 
 with ripe, delicious gooseberries, she once more 
 left the house, this time well laden ; and upon 
 arriving at the cottage, she found the children 
 grouped upon the platform, and the two little 
 boys eager to relieve her of her burden, to 
 which she smilingly assented, only reserving 
 the precious sketch-book, which she carried 
 carefully in her hand. 
 
 It was a happy party on the whole ; for the 
 slight feeling of constraint, which the presence 
 of a lady and a stranger unavoidably occa- 
 sioned, was soon totally dispelled by the genu- 
 ine warmth and kindliness of Grace's manner. 
 She was naturally fond of children ; and, of 
 late, she had learned to feel a deep and almost 
 painful interest in those who were passing
 
 THt LITTLE ZOOPHYTE GATHERERS. 45 
 
 through that season fraught with " so many 
 and great dangers," in the midst of which she 
 had been mercifully preserved. It was now a 
 year since she had been admitted into the full 
 communion of the Christian Church. Life had 
 thenceforth assumed, in her eyes, a far more 
 serious and awful aspect; and short though 
 her experience had been, Grace longed, with 
 an earnestness too deep for words, that it were 
 in her power to impart to others a perception 
 as vivid as her own of the vast importance, 
 one might well add the DIGNITY, of a child's 
 existence. 
 
 How often while laboring, through God's 
 grace, to prepare her heart for the solemn rite 
 of Confirmation, and the high and holy Sacra- 
 ment in which she would afterwards be allowed 
 to join, had she mourned over those innumer- 
 able offences, all trivial, it might be, in the 
 world's eye, but grievous, as she then in some 
 measure realized, in the sight of Him, " before 
 whom the very heavens are not clean." Pride 
 and selfishness had beset her; indolence and 
 vanity ; disobedience to her earthly parents ; 
 and saddest thought of all irreverence to- 
 wards that Almighty God, before whose throne 
 the blessed angels fall in humblest adoration ; 
 coldness, too, and want of love for Him, that
 
 46 THE LITTLE ZOOPHYTE GATHERERS. 
 
 gracious and compassionate Redeemer, who 
 had deigned to receive her in the arms of 
 mercy, while yet a feeble and unconscious in- 
 fant, had marked her with that sacred sign, 
 from which " the powers of darkness flee," 
 and had then most surely granted her the as- 
 sistance and protection of his good Spirit, that 
 so she might be enabled to conquer in the Avar- 
 fare, and " to continue His faithful soldier and 
 servant unto her life's end." 
 
 Alas! how often had those glorious priv- 
 ileges been despised ; that Holy Spirit grieved 
 and resisted, and the bright purity of her 
 baptismal innocence stained with unnumbered 
 sins ! Was it strange, that while looking back 
 upon the past with such regret, Grace should 
 ardently desire to save others from the sorrow 
 which she herself experienced ; that she should 
 have learned to consider even young and ten- 
 der children as not merely the pets and play- 
 things of an hour, whose every whim might 
 be indulged, and evil habits suffered for a while 
 to grow unchecked, but as reasonable and ac- 
 countable beings the members of Christ's 
 Church, and the inheritors of His everlasting 
 kingdom, towards which, with the first dawn 
 of reason, they were pledged steadfastly to 
 -^"PSS on ?
 
 THE LITTLE ZOOPHYTE GATHERERS. 47 
 
 But Grace was timid, and it was very rarely 
 that she ventured upon an allusion to the feel- 
 ings which were ever uppermost in her mind. 
 Perhaps that only made the effect of her ex- 
 ample stronger ; for, although we should never 
 hesitate openly to avow the principles on which 
 we act, yet silent and unconscious influence is, 
 in most cases, more powerful than any words. 
 Grace's little companions, on the present occa- 
 sion, appeared all to be intelligent and well- 
 bred children ; it was impossible not to feel a 
 warm interest in them, as members of the one 
 great " household of faith ;" and they, on their 
 part, were charmed with the gentle gayety of 
 the lady's manner, and quite entranced with 
 the wonderful stories by which she beguiled 
 the way. 
 
 Little Maggie never left her side, although 
 she scarcely spoke, and seemed only desirous 
 of remaining near her. She was very frail 
 and delicate, and Grace became almost anxious 
 as she watched the flush which deepened on 
 her thin, white cheek, and the extreme languor 
 visible in every motion ; but the children all 
 united in assuring her, that Maggie never had 
 been ill from the time she was a baby, but was 
 always pale and weak ; and although much 
 wearied by the long walks, in which she con-
 
 48 THE LITTLE ZOOPHYTE GATHERERS. 
 
 stantly accompanied her school-fellows, yet she 
 generally appeared to feel the better for them 
 afterwards. 
 
 At length they reached the scene of their 
 operations, whereupon all set about the work 
 of collecting zoophytes with right good- will. 
 Rocken-End is a long reef of rocks jutting out 
 into the sea ; it is entirely submerged at high 
 water; but when, as on the present occasion, 
 the tide is low, it is quite accessible to those 
 who can manage to preserve their balance 
 upon the slippery sea-weed, and who are not 
 too particular about damp feet. Grace was 
 fortunately provided with thick, substantial 
 \valking-boots, so she felt no fear, and engaged 
 with ardor and spirit in the enterprise. 
 
 She had truly said, that she knew little of 
 zoophytes and their mode of life ; so now, as 
 she detached the little creatures from the stones 
 to which they clung, she did not fail to im- 
 prove the opportunity of learning all she could 
 with regard to this most singular class of 
 created things, some of which appear at times, 
 to an unpractised eye, to belong less properly 
 to the animal than to the vegetable kingdom. 
 The children were delighted to afford to their 
 new friend all the satisfaction in their power, 
 and thus Grace had the pleasure of feeling
 
 T1IK LITTLE ZOOPHYTE GAT11EREK8. 49 
 
 that she had acquired a considerable amount 
 of information with regard to a very curious 
 and interesting branch of natural history. 
 
 There seem no bounds to the knowledge we 
 may all of us lay up, merely by exercising 
 our faculties of observation, and by not being 
 ashamed to own our ignorance, and profit by 
 the experience of those who may chance to be 
 better informed on any one subject than we 
 are ourselves. 
 
 After some time the small tin pails, which 
 the children carried, were pronounced to be 
 "quite full;" and Mary Blake declared that 
 Mrs. Parker, a lady in the village, for whose 
 extensive aquarium the various specimens that 
 they had been collecting were designed, would, 
 she was sure, be fully satisfied with the result 
 of their expedition. A few were selected and 
 put aside for Maggie's table, as she liked to 
 tend them, and was besides frequently able to 
 dispose of one or two to visitors; and when 
 this had been accomplished, Grace called to 
 the children to seat themselves in a circle upon 
 the level sand, while she herself once more 
 took possession of the baskets, which had been 
 deposited for safe keeping in a hole among the 
 rocks, and liberally distributed the contents. 
 The children, to whom such delicacies were a 
 5
 
 50 THE LITTLE ZOOPHYTE GATHEREKS. 
 
 rarity, highly enjoyed the unaccustomed treat, 
 while the sight of their happy faces was to 
 Grace a source of yet greater pleasure. At 
 the conclusion of their repast, all of the party, 
 except little Maggie, felt obliged, although 
 most unwillingly, to set out for home. They 
 lived at some distance from the shore, and 
 they should have to call at Mrs. Parker's, and 
 their parents might be uneasy if they were not 
 punctual. 
 
 " I, myself, have only half an hour to spare," 
 said Grace ; " for I promised MY mamma to 
 return by half-past six ; but I should like, if it 
 were possible, to go out to the farthest point 
 of the reef for a few minutes : the view from 
 that high rock is splendid, and I have a great 
 wish to put it into my sketch-book, for it would 
 be pleasant to show it to all my friends in 
 America; and it would make me think, be- 
 sides, of the happy afternoon which we have 
 passed together," she added, looking kindly 
 round upon her young companions. 
 
 "Indeed we shall not forget it, Miss," ex- 
 claimed several of the children, in a breath ; 
 " but what sort of a book was it you spoke of?" 
 demanded little Fanny Blake. 
 
 "My sketch-book, in which I make draw- 
 ing of all the beautiful places that I -'- '
 
 THE LITTLE ZOOPHYTE GATHERERS. 51 
 
 answered Grace. "This is my home," she con- 
 tinued, turning to the second leaf, whereon a 
 large and handsome mansion was represented, 
 standing in the midst of a plantation, and 
 shaded on one side by a magnolia grove. 
 
 " How beautiful !" they exclaimed, with 
 eager interest ; " but where is it, Miss ? in what 
 part of America, I mean." 
 
 "In the State of South Carolina," replied 
 Grace. " I dare say you have read about it in 
 your geography." 
 
 "Yes, Miss, we have," said little Maggie; 
 "but what is this?" she added, pointing to a 
 church of small but exquisite proportions, sur- 
 mounted by a slender, graceful spire. 
 
 "That is the church which we always at- 
 tend," said Grace, as she gazed fondly on the 
 picture. "I was baptized there," she con- 
 tinued, " and confirmed ; and after that our 
 kind old rector, who is also my uncle, intrusted 
 me with the care of several children, to whom 
 I was to teach the Catechism, and Collects, 
 and many other things which he recommended. 
 It gave me great pleasure to be able to assist 
 him ; and as my pupils were affectionate and do- 
 cile, I soon learned to love them very dearly." 
 
 " And how old are the children, Miss ?" in- 
 quired Johnny Dawson.
 
 52 THE LITTLE ZOOPHYTE GATHERERS. 
 
 "I think they must be about your ages," 
 answered Grace; "the eldest little girl is just 
 eleven, and the youngest between five and 
 six." 
 
 " That does not look at all like our churches," 
 observed Martha Blake, who had never been 
 more than half a dozen miles beyond her native 
 village. 
 
 " JSTo ; it is quite different from any in this 
 neighborhood," said Grace, " although it is 
 built upon the model of a church in England, 
 in Warwickshire, if I am not mistaken ; but 
 you know that the BUILDING does not signify ; 
 for all which have been consecrated by the 
 Bishop, and set apart for the especial service 
 of God, are alike holy, and we may feel equally 
 at home in any one of them ; for, throughout 
 the world, we shall find the same prayers in 
 which we have been taught to join ; and," she 
 continued, pointing to a cross which crowned 
 the tapering spire, " here is an emblem which 
 is common to us both : can you tell me what 
 verse in the Bible this recalls to mind ?" 
 
 The children seemed perplexed for a mo- 
 ment; and then Mary asked whether it was 
 not that passage of St. Paul's Epistle to the 
 Ephesians, in which he speaks of there being 
 but "one Lord, one faith, one baptism."
 
 TIIE LITTLE ZOOPHYTE GATHERERS. 53 
 
 " Yes ; you are quite right, my love ;" said 
 Grace. " In one Lord, the hopes of all of us 
 are centred ; to all must the sacred symbol o* 
 His sufferings suggest the same thoughts ol 
 infinite and unchanging love, and with that 
 sign was each one among us sealed in Holy 
 Baptism. The same warfare, you perceive, 
 the same journey through the wilderness of 
 this world, leading to the same bright and 
 glorious kingdom, even the ' inheritance of the 
 saints in light.' " 
 
 "The Creed speaks of the communion of 
 saints," observed Mary, in a thoughtful tone. 
 
 " Yes," resumed Grace ; " ' the blessed com- 
 pany of all faithful people ;' all who are true 
 members of the body of Christ, whether they 
 belong to the Church on earth, or to the Church 
 Triumphant." 
 
 " But the members of the Church Triumph- 
 ant will be quite ONE, will not they ?" asked 
 little Maggie ; and she drew nearer to Grace, 
 and looked with inquiring earnestness into her 
 face. 
 
 Grace was really startled by the energy of 
 her tone, and by the strange, beautiful light 
 which illumined her pale and wasted, but most 
 lovely features. It was evident that the child's 
 nature was peculiarly excftable, and although
 
 54 THE LITTLE ZOOPHYTE GATHERERS. 
 
 the theme upon which they had been convers- 
 ing was in itself most soothing and consola- 
 tory, yet in the little girl's weak state of 
 health, continued and intense thought upon 
 any subject might be injurious, and Grace felt 
 it would be wisest not to pursue the conversa- 
 tion farther. 
 
 " All members of Christ's holy Church are 
 one even now," she answered, gently, as she 
 took the child's burning hand within her own, 
 and imprinted a kiss upon her pallid brow; 
 " but in heaven they will be always united, 
 and learn to know and love each other more 
 and more ; but we shall not forget one another 
 even here, I hope," she added, turning to the 
 little circle, in whose welfare she took so warm 
 and affectionate an interest. 
 
 " No, indeed, Miss ; never," exclaimed sev- 
 eral voices. Maggie's was not among them, 
 but she still held Grace's hand with an almost 
 convulsive pressure. 
 
 " I fear I have detained you quite too lo'ng, 
 dear children," observed Grace ; " but I really 
 could not bear to say good-bye." 
 
 " Oh no, Miss ; we can walk very fast," re- 
 plied Ned Dawson, a sprightly boy of nine ; 
 " but have we not prevented you from draw- 
 ing?"
 
 THE LITTLE ZOOPHYTE GATHERERS. 55 
 
 " I think I may still allow myself ten min- 
 utes," answered Grace ; " and that will enable 
 me to take the outline, which I can afterwards 
 fill up at leisure ; but I must beg you will be 
 careful of Maggie, for she seems quite worn 
 out." 
 
 " May not I stay with you, dear lady 3" in- 
 quired the child, timidly. 
 
 " I wish you might," Grace answered ; " hut 
 I should not like to make your parents anx- 
 ious." 
 
 "Oh, never fear, Miss!" exclaimed Ned, 
 good-naturedly ; " we will stop and tell her 
 mother that she is quite safe." 
 
 "Yes," continued Fanny Blake; "and we 
 will leave your baskets at the inn, if you will 
 let us ; we are obliged to pass it on our way to 
 Mrs. Parker's."' 
 
 Grace cordially thanked them for their kind- 
 ness; and then having ascertained that there 
 was no immediate danger to be apprehended 
 from the tide, she stepped lightly out upon 
 the reef, followed closely by her little favorite 
 Maggie. 
 
 They were soon seated upon the highest 
 point, and Grace having waved her handker- 
 chief as a farewell signal to the little group 
 upon the shore, set herself diligently to im-
 
 56 THE LITTLE ZOOPHYTE GATHERERS. 
 
 prove the few hurried moments which yet 
 remained at her command. 
 
 It was a wild, impressive scene, and one 
 well calculated to inspire a far less enthusiastic 
 person than Grace Melville. Towards the west 
 the tall, dark rocks towered high in dreary 
 grandeur, the outline of every jagged peak 
 being clearly defined against the blue, trans- 
 parent sky ; but on turning eastward, the line 
 of cliffs became for a short distance less abrupt, 
 and the eye was free to range inland over a 
 most singular tract, broken into deep, grassy 
 hollows, interspersed with mounds and boul- 
 ders, all spangled with innumerable wild-flow- 
 ers, and watered by many a softly-murmuring 
 streamlet yet, despite these elements of smil- 
 ing beauty, wearing even at that charmed hour 
 an air of loneliness and melancholy indescrib- 
 able, but not, therefore, the less keenly felt ; 
 the view was bounded by the purple hills: 
 and to the east, along the shore, the rocks 
 again arose in frowning majesty; while upon 
 the highest of the hillocks, which were scat- 
 tered over the surface of the plain, was perched 
 a singularly constructed lighthouse, that formed 
 a prominent feature in the landscape. 
 
 Grace's skilful pencil had ere long transfer- 
 red the leading characteristics of the scenery
 
 THE LITTLE ZOOPHYTE GATHERERS. 57 
 
 to thepages of her sketcb-book, although no 
 _aisCcould invest them with the glow of warm, 
 rich coloring, which at that moment lent a 
 magic beauty to the whole. Maggie, seated 
 on the rock beside her, watched with absorb- 
 ing interest a process to her both new and 
 wonderful. She had frequently, it is true, seen 
 engravings of the different objects of note in 
 the neighborhood; and she had even from time 
 to time beheld artists on the shore engaged in 
 the prosecution of their charming task, but, of 
 course, she had never ventured to approach 
 them. It was an unexpected privilege, the 
 being thus allowed to trace the gradual pro- 
 gress of a work which she so much admired ; 
 and Grace, who perceived her evident delight, 
 lingered, unwilling to abridge a pleasure which 
 the child might never more enjoy. 
 
 But soon the slanting golden rays warned 
 her that it was time they should proceed ; and 
 carefully replacing her pencils in the case, she 
 turned to her young companion, saying, 
 " Come, Maggie, dear, we shall be very late ; 
 let us go by the nearest way to Blackgang 
 but we will not say good-bye to-night," she 
 added, quickly, observing that the child's eyes 
 were filled with tears. " Mamma hopes to 
 remain several days longer in the village, and
 
 58 THE LITTLE ZOOPHYTE GATHERERS. 
 
 you may be sure that I will try to see you at 
 least once again." 
 
 The little girl sprang lightly from her seat, 
 and in a cheerful tone began a reply to Grace's 
 last remark, but ere the sentence was concluded 
 she stopped short. An expression of intense 
 pain crossed her features ; her pallid cheeks 
 became flushed with crimson, which in an in- 
 stant faded suddenly away, and the next mo- 
 ment she would have fallen had not Grace 
 caught her in her arms. 
 
 It was a long and death-like swoon. At 
 first, indeed, Grace could scarcely persuade 
 herself that life still remained ; but she had 
 experience of fainting, in the case of her elder 
 sister, who was subject to repeated and severe 
 attacks, and thus she was not taken wholly by 
 surprise. After loosening the child's dress, 
 and bathing her face and hands with water, 
 the little sufferer revived, and in a faint 
 whisper begged that the lady would not be 
 frightened ; she could walk quite well, for she 
 felt better now; and as she spoke, she half- 
 raised herself from the support of Grace's en- 
 circling arm, but sank back exhausted with 
 the effort. 
 
 " Do not attempt to move just yet, my love," 
 said Grace, in a soothing tone ; " perhaps you
 
 THE LITTLE ZOOPHYTE GATHERERS. 59 
 
 may feel stronger presently. Have you ever 
 had an attack like this before ?" 
 
 "Oh yes, Miss, several times," replied the 
 child, "but I have never felt so ill as I do 
 now." There was a pause, and then she add- 
 ed, calmly, but in a voice of awe : " Persons 
 have often said that I looked sickly, and likely 
 to die young, as both my brothers and my 
 sister did." 
 
 Grace carefully restrained the slightest sign 
 of agitation. 
 
 " I hope you are not really ill," she said ; 
 " you have been tired by your long walk : but 
 we had best try to find some one who will 
 carry you to the cottage, for the tide seems 
 rising now, and it can hardly be quite safe to 
 stay here longer." 
 
 As she spoke, Grace gently raised the child, 
 and cautiously made her way along the slip- 
 pery ledge. The poor little girl was too ill to 
 make the least resistance ; in fact, she seemed 
 only half conscious of what was going on, but 
 lay with her head resting on Grace's shoulder, 
 colorless as a snow-flake, and almost as light. 
 It was rather difficult to reach the shore, for 
 the tide had risen considerably, and the step- 
 ping-stones were already under water; but 
 Grace was strong, and in nowise afraid of ex-
 
 60 THE LITTLE ZOOPHYTE GATHERERS. 
 
 posure, when in the way of duty ; so finding 
 that it was impossible to keep her footing on 
 the rocks, without the risk of falling with her 
 precious burden, she immediately abandoned 
 them, and plunged into the sea, through which 
 she waded knee-deep to the beach. 
 
 It was no easy matter to gain the old light- 
 house, for her limbs trembled, and she was 
 well-nigh overcome by anxiety and fatigue ; 
 but delay might be fatal, and she hastened on. 
 Just as she had reached the foot of the hill, 
 some one appeared in view, following the path 
 which wound along its summit. Grace called 
 aloud for aid, and the man, a respectable Irish 
 laborer, instantly retraced his steps. His face 
 expressed a momentary surprise as he drew 
 near, and then he started back, exclaiming : 
 
 " Sure and it's little Maggie Wilson ! Well, 
 poor dear, I always thought she would not be 
 here long ; but let me take her from you, 
 ma'am," he added, as he tenderly lifted the 
 fainting child in his strong arms, and hurried 
 onward in the direction of the cottage. 
 
 " Do you think that she is very ill ?" asked 
 Grace, in a low voice, as she followed at an 
 almost breathless speed. 
 
 " It was in the family," the man replied ; 
 " the three other children had died just as sud-
 
 THE LITTLE ZOOPHYTE GATHERERS. 
 
 denly disease of the heart," he believed, " tin 
 doctor called it." 
 
 Neither spoke again until they reached the 
 chine. The mother herself appeared, as she 
 saw them approaching, and Grace was struck, 
 at the first glance, with the extraordinary 
 resemblance between her and the little girl. 
 There was the same fragile form, and the same 
 delicacy of feature, but with a worn and hag- 
 gard expression that painfully contrasted with 
 the purity and repose which the child's coun- 
 tenance exhibited. Grace felt, as she looked 
 on her, that her days were few soon, very 
 soon, perchance, she would be laid to rest 
 beside her children in the green church-yard, 
 and the same words of peace and sacred trust 
 would be breathed over their senseless clay ; 
 but would all be in reality the same ? 
 
 Grace longed, with an inexpressible desire, 
 to feel the like " assurance of hope" with re- 
 gard to this new claimant upon her sympathy. 
 But she might have set her mind at rest, for 
 Margaret Wilson was an earnest and devoted 
 Christian. Trials, such as it has been the lot 
 of few to suffer, had been her portion, and 
 they had cast a shade over a naturally joyous 
 spirit, and marred a countenance which had 
 once beamed with no ordinary beauty; but 
 6
 
 62 THE LITTLE ZOOPHYTE GATHERERS. 
 
 now her warfare was about to close, and Mar- 
 garet felt that to her the change would be a 
 blessed one indeed. One sole anxiety dark- 
 ened the brightness of the prospect : her droop- 
 ing flower the last surviving one of all her 
 offspring would be left solitary in her tender 
 youth, without the care of parents, or of any 
 near relation in the world. 
 
 At such times the fond mother often prayed, 
 that if it were God's will, the helpless little one 
 might be first removed beyond the power of 
 sin and sorrow, feeling that she herself would 
 be willing, gladly and thankfully, to endure the 
 solitude which must then be hers during the 
 brief remainder of her life, and that even on 
 earth she could be happy, in the consciousness 
 that her treasure was secure from harm. Such 
 was the fervent prayer which God, in His 
 mercy, had seen fit to grant. Alas ! human 
 nature is but weak, and poor Margaret could 
 not restrain a cry of anguish as she gazed on 
 the child's senseless form. 
 
 That mood, however, was of short duration ; 
 and having thanked the worthy laborer, and 
 received from him a promise that the doctor 
 should be sent immediately, and also that a 
 kind-hearted neighbor should be requested to 
 call and render her assistance, she began silently
 
 THE LITTLE ZOOPHYTE GATHEREES. 63 
 
 to arrange the little bed, while Grace sat in a 
 low easy-chair, holding the unconscious sufferer 
 in her arms. In a few moments Mrs. Davis 
 entered ; she was evidently an experienced 
 nurse, and set about making all the needful 
 preparations with a remarkable degree of quiet 
 energy, and freedom from all bustle and con- 
 fusion. 
 
 " Poor thing ! do not try to talk," she said, 
 upon observing that her friend's voice trem- 
 bled and her limbs shook, as she endeavored to 
 give some account of all that had occurred. 
 u You shall tell me about it by and by, when 
 you are better, and now do not trouble about 
 any thing, for I will set all to rights." 
 
 "With a sigh of relief the poor mother turned 
 away. Grace rose ; and having resigned her 
 charge, she whispered a few words of consola- 
 tion, and then glided gently from the room. It 
 was really very late full half an hour beyond 
 the appointed time and a sense of the nervous 
 terror which her mother must have undergone 
 almost banished for a while the recollection of 
 the scene she had just quitted. 
 
 Upon arriving at the inn, however, she 
 found that the carriage had not yet returned, 
 so she had time to change her dress, and give 
 directions that all should be in readiness to
 
 64: THE LITTLE ZOOPHYTE GATHERERS. 
 
 serve tea at a moment's notice. It was not 
 long before the sound of wheels was heard, 
 followed soon after by the entrance of Mrs. 
 Melville, who observed, with a smile, that the 
 supper-table was a welcome sight. They would 
 not be five minutes in taking off their bonnets, 
 so Grace might ring and order the chicken to 
 be brought up directly. She did so, and with 
 an effort managed to speak cheerfully, for she 
 was resolved not to mar the enjoyment of the 
 social meal by an immediate relation of the 
 day's events. 
 
 "And now, Grade, for a history of your 
 adventures," exclaimed Helen, as she helped 
 herself to a large slice of fruit-cake, and handed 
 her cup to be replenished by her sister. 
 
 "I will tell you presently," replied Grace, 
 smiling ; " but supposing yon were to set me 
 the example. I am especially curious to learn 
 what can have happened to detain you nearly 
 an hour beyond the time you mentioned." 
 
 "Then you were uneasy, my love?" said 
 Mrs. Melville. " I was afraid you might be, 
 although there was in reality no cause for ap- 
 prehension." 
 
 " Excepting that poor Grace was sadly im- 
 patient for her tea, I have no doubt," inter- 
 rupted Helen, with a merry laugh ; " and,
 
 THE LITTLE ZOOPHYTE GATHERERS. 65 
 
 really, I must own that my conscience re- 
 proached me during our homeward drive, for 
 it was all my doing, Gracie ; but to leave sweet 
 Brading before the last moment was impossible, 
 as I am sure you would have yourself acknowl- 
 edged." 
 
 "Brading," repeated Grace, with an accent 
 of surprise, "the scene of Legh Richmond's 
 sweet story, 'The Young Cottager?' O Hel- 
 en ! you have not been there !" 
 
 " I told you, you would be sorry if you did 
 not go with us," said Helen, in rather a tri- 
 umphant tone. " It would have been a perfect 
 day, Grace, if only you had been of the party ; 
 however, mamma and I are resolved that we 
 will not consent to any more solitary rambles 
 for the future ; so I hope you have made the 
 most of this one." 
 
 " Stay ; we have not been quite so arbitrary," 
 interposed Mrs. Melville ; " but seriously, my 
 dear, I cannot tell you all the interest you have 
 missed. The drive along the Undercliff was 
 more exquisitely lovely than any scene I have 
 ever beheld either in imagination or in reality ; 
 and it was very grand, as well as beautiful, but 
 of this, I hope, yon will soon be able to judge 
 for yourself. 
 
 " "We went as far as Ventnor, where we had
 
 66 THE LITTLE ZOOPHYTE GATHERERS. 
 
 intended passing several hours: I think that 
 neighborhood must be as near perfection as 
 any spot on earth, but it was impossible to en- 
 joy it without you ; so we determined upon 
 leaving it until another day, and taking a long 
 drive instead. By chance, we overheard the 
 arrangements of some tourists, who were about 
 to separate, and appointed BEADING as a place 
 of meeting. The name was, of course, famil- 
 iar, but we had both forgotten that it is in the 
 Isle of Wight ; however, we learned upon in- 
 quiry that it was about eight miles distant ; so, 
 as we could scarcely expect to have another 
 opportunity of going so far in that direction, 
 we were obliged to take advantage of this one ; 
 and I regret that you will most likely be forced 
 to remain satisfied with our descriptions." 
 
 " Which will not, by any means, do justice 
 to sweet Brading," observed Helen, u since 
 even Legh Richmond's pen has failed. The 
 scenery is not wild and romantic, Grace, but 
 full of that quiet pastoral loveliness, which is 
 always associated in one's mind with England. 
 We went first to the cottage in which ' Little 
 Jane's' short life was passed ; it is one of the 
 most humble in the village, and is inhabited 
 by a very aged couple, whose minds, as well as 
 their bodies, seem impaired by years. Thence
 
 THE LITTLE ZOOPHYTE GATHERERS. 67 
 
 we proceeded to the church, which is large and 
 beautiful, and of great antiquity ; and having 
 lingered for an hour to inspect the monuments 
 of an old and noble race, we wandered out 
 alone into the church-yard, where, after search- 
 ing among the moss-grown tombstones, we at 
 length discovered that which marks the rest- 
 ing-place of the ' Young Cottager ;' and farther 
 on, the marble slab on which are engraved 
 those lines that made so powerful an impres- 
 sion on her mind. You remember the passage, 
 Grace, of course?" 
 
 "Yes, indeed. How interesting your visit 
 must have been !" replied Grace, as she vainly 
 endeavored to concentrate her attention upon 
 her sister's recital. 
 
 " You may well say so," continued Helen ; 
 " and afterwards we seated ourselves upon the 
 steps of an old sun-dial, overlooking the fair 
 valley and the blue misty hills. The rectory 
 immediately adjoins the church-yard, and I 
 could half fancy that I saw the group of chil- 
 dren dispersed among the tombstones, deeply 
 engaged in studying the epitaphs, and good 
 Mr. Richmond upon the lawn in front of his 
 abode, watching them with his calm, grave 
 smile of earnestness and solicitude." 
 
 " Yes," resumed Mrs. Melville ; " and then
 
 68 THE LITTLE ZOOPHYTE GATHERERS. 
 
 the exquisite pathos of those few simple lines 
 which are inscribed upon the grave of ' Little 
 Jane.' Often as I had read and admired them 
 before, I never until to-day fully understood 
 the depth of tenderness they breathe : 
 
 ' A child reposes underneath this sod, 
 A child to memory dear, and dear to God.' M 
 
 At this point of the conversation, poor Grace 
 could no longer restrain the emotions which 
 had during the past hour been struggling for 
 utterance. Her voice failed her when she 
 tried to speak, and the tears flowed fast and 
 freely. 
 
 " You must be completely wearied, dearest," 
 exclaimed Helen, as she left her seat, and bent 
 affectionately over her beloved and only sister ; 
 " indeed, I have noticed ever since we came in 
 that you looked pale. Suppose you were to 
 lie down on the sofa, and let me take your 
 place and pour out tea." 
 
 "No, thank you, Helen, I am quite well, 
 and you require rauch more to be taken care 
 of," answered Grace, with an attempt at play- 
 fulness. 
 
 " Has any thing happened to distress you, 
 my love ?" inquired Mrs. Melville, anxiously.
 
 THE LITTLE ZOOPHYTE GATI1EKEKS. 69 
 
 And then in simple, touching language, 
 Grace began a narration of the scenes through 
 which she had passed. The warm sympathy 
 of her auditors was enlisted when she spoke of 
 the sweet, gentle child who was at that mo- 
 ment lying at the point of death ; and ringing 
 the bell, Mrs. Melville at once despatched a 
 servant to the chine, with directions to inquire 
 for the little girl, and also to procure any thing 
 which might be useful. In about half an hour 
 the messenger returned. There was nothing 
 wanted, she assured them ; the doctor had just 
 left, after declaring that his young patient 
 could not be expected to live many hours ; she 
 was in great pain at present, but it was hoped 
 "that her sufferings would be shortly over. 
 
 As soon as they were left alone, Mrs. Mel- 
 ville and her daughters prepared to read the 
 Evening Psalms and Lessons, in accordance 
 with their usual habit ; and then having united 
 in some beautiful Church prayers, including 
 that petition for a child who is considered dan- 
 gerously ill, they separated for the night, in 
 the hope of obtaining that repose of which all 
 stood so much in need. 
 
 But Grace found sleep impossible. Hour 
 after hour went by ; and when, in the end, ex- 
 haustion prevailed and she sank into a troubled
 
 70 THE LITTLE ZOOPHYTE GATHERERS. 
 
 slumber, it was only to awake witli greater 
 longings to find herself a watcher in the lonely 
 cottage. At length she was blessed with a 
 longer and more unbroken interval of forget- 
 fulness, from which she awoke calm and re- 
 freshed. It was very early ; the sun had not 
 yet risen, but the eastern sky was piled with 
 bright masses of gold and crimson clouds, and 
 the morning star was " paleing" in the glorious 
 dawn. Grace rose and dressed ; she was re- 
 solved to proceed to the chine without delay. 
 Her presence, she felt convinced, would not be 
 considered an intrusion ; and there was no fear 
 that Mrs. Melville and Helen, who occupied 
 the adjoining room, would be uneasy at her 
 absence, for she frequently indulged in early 
 rambles ; so opening the window, which was but 
 slightly raised above the ground, Grace sprang 
 lightly down upon the level turf, and was soon 
 beyond the pleasure-ground of the inn. 
 
 The door of the cottage in the chine was 
 thrown wide open to admit the cooling breeze ; 
 and Margaret "Wilson, who at once caught sight 
 of her visitor, came forward with an eager 
 greeting. She was, if possible, yet paler than 
 when Grace had seen her last, but very serene, 
 and almost unmoved in her demeanor. " She 
 was so thankful," she said, " that Grace had
 
 THE LITTLE ZOOPHYTE GATHERERS, tfl 
 
 come ; her darling had constantly spoken, in 
 delirium, of the sweet young lady \vho had 
 been so kind to her. It had been a fearful 
 night," the mother added, while a slight shiver 
 passed through her frame ; " but the pain was 
 over now, and it was believed that conscious- 
 ness would not return." 
 
 Grace followed into the cottage, without at- 
 tempting to reply. The child was extended 
 upon her little couch, a faint flush just tinging 
 her transparent cheek : so still and motionless 
 she seemed, one might almost have fancied 
 that the angel spirit had already taken flight 
 to another and a happier sphere. 
 
 " She still lives," said Mrs. Davis, in a whis- 
 per, as she rose and signed to Grace to take 
 her seat beside the bed. 
 
 " But she will never know even me again, 
 in this world," exclaimed the poor mother, 
 with a sudden gush of tears, as she sank upon 
 the floor, and clasped one small hand tightly 
 between both her own. 
 
 At that instant the sun burst forth with 
 lazzling glory, and his warm rays streamed 
 into the humble room, and fell full upon the 
 face of the dying child. Slowly the soft blue 
 eyes unclosed; the power of utterance was 
 gone, but a smile of radiant beauty played
 
 72 THE LITTLE ZOOPHYTE GATHEKEES. 
 
 around her lips, and it was evident that she 
 recognized the features of those who were now 
 kneeling side by side. Soon the brilliancy of 
 that smile was succeeded by an expression of 
 deep and holy calm ; the last lingering tint of 
 rose faded from cheek and lip, and with a sigh 
 so low as to be scarcely heard, the spirit passed 
 into the land of everlasting life. 
 
 She was buried in the quiet church-yard on 
 the afternoon of the ensuing Friday. Grace 
 Melville was present at the solemn service; 
 and when the last soothing rites of the Church 
 had been performed, and the few mourners had 
 dispersed in silence to their several homes, the 
 young and gentle lady still remained to adorn 
 the lowly tomb with flowers, the crimson 
 fuschia, drooping beneath its weight of pendent 
 blossoms, at the foot of the little mound, and 
 the pure white rose, giving its sweet perfume 
 to the breeze which wanders through that con- 
 secrated spot, and ever and anon casts a shower 
 of stainless petals upon the adjoining grave, 
 where rests
 
 THE CHILDREN 
 
 ST. CATHERINE'S CHANTRY. 
 
 " Voices low and gentle, 
 
 And timid glances shy, 
 That seem for aid parental 
 
 To sue all wistfully ; 
 All pressing, longing to do right, 
 
 Yet fearing to be wrong; 
 In these, the pastor dares delight, 
 A lamb-like, Christ-like throng." 
 
 CHRISTIAN YEAB. 
 
 "WAS born in a sweet, secluded 
 village in the south of England, 
 and in that calm retirement the 
 first bright years of childhood 
 glided tranquilly away. Fair- 
 light had been the home of my 
 forefathers for several generations. It was a 
 large, old-fashioned, gray stone hall, situated 
 upon the verge. of a gently sloping hill, over- 
 looking a rich and varied prospect of meadows, 
 and woodlands, and silvery-gushing streams; 
 while at the rear extended, for miles and miles, 
 a ridge of low, undulating, grassy downs, 
 
 7
 
 4: THE CHILDREN OF 
 
 forming a pleasing back-ground to the bloom- 
 ing loveliness of the parks and gardens, which 
 completely surrounded my father's dwelling. 
 
 It was shortly after the celebration of my 
 eighth birth-day' an event that was duly ob- 
 served, a holiday being given to the children 
 of the little school that had been principally 
 founded and endowed by my dear mother, and 
 a feast being provided for myself, and about a 
 dozen young companions, in the beautiful sum- 
 mer-house which stood upon the borders of our 
 tiny lake. 
 
 It was, if I remember rightly, within three 
 months of this never to be forgotten birth-day, 
 that my parents, for reasons on which it is un- 
 necessary now to enter, determined upon a 
 removal to the United States. It was to be a 
 temporary residence, they said ; at the end of 
 two, or, at the most, three years, we were to 
 return to England ; but the allotted time passed 
 on, and before another year had closed, my 
 sweet mother was taken to her rest, and then 
 the very thought of Fairlight became wholly 
 insupportable to my father's mind. He had 
 learned ere this to conceive a warm affection 
 for his adopted country ; and now it had be- 
 come doubly dear from being the grave of her 
 whose memory he so fondly cherished.
 
 ST. GATHERER'S CHANTEY. 75 
 
 My boyish interests and associations were 
 also in the Western world. Therefore, after 
 many consultations, and not, I suspect, without 
 a few misgivings, it was at length determined 
 that the lands which had so long been ours 
 should be disposed of, and suffered to pass into 
 the hands of strangers ; and that America was 
 thenceforth to be our home. I was content 
 with this decision, for we were surrounded by 
 a large circle of valued and congenial friends, 
 while our abode was the seat of comfort, ele- 
 gance, and the refinement of a pure and culti- 
 vated taste, a gift which my father possessed 
 in a very eminent degree. 
 
 So we continued to dwell upon the banks of 
 the noble Hudson ; and there my youth was 
 passed in laborious study, and in preparations 
 for the sacred calling, to which I had long 
 prayed I might be permitted to devote my 
 powers. That prayer was granted ; and at the 
 dawn of manhood, I was admitted to Holy 
 Orders, in the American branch of the Church 
 Catholic. 
 
 England and America were ONE ; so my dear 
 father often said, when playfully accused by 
 others of having abandoned his ancestral 
 home ; and I, for my part, never engaged in 
 the hallowed services of the Church without
 
 76 THE CHILDREN OF 
 
 inwardly acknowledging that his words were 
 true. Still, as years rolled on, I found it more 
 and more difficult to repress a yearning wish 
 to gaze once more upon the long unvisited, 
 although well-remembered scenes of my native 
 land. 
 
 But there seemed no probability that my 
 desire could be realized ; for I never would 
 consent, from motives of pleasure only, to de- 
 sert the people committed to my care. How, 
 indeed, could I conscientiously allow myself to 
 contemplate any scheme which must involve 
 even a temporary separation from the scene of 
 my labors, while fully conscious that the ex- 
 clusive devotion of my every thought and 
 faculty was quite inadequate to a successful 
 discharge of the all-important work which I 
 had undertaken ? Alas ! an opportunity was 
 ere long presented in an unlooked-for way, but 
 it came in the guise of a most heavy trial. 
 
 Several of my mother's family had fallen 
 victims to consumption, and she herself had 
 always had a tendency towards that fatal 
 malady, although her days had eventually 
 been shortened by an infectious fever. I had 
 been considered unusually strong ; but it at 
 length became evident that I had inherited the 
 germ of the disease, and the physicians who
 
 ST. CATHERINE'S CHANTRY. 77 
 
 were immediately consulted, united in declar- 
 ing that it would be highly imprudent for me 
 to dream of continuing to reside in a climate 
 where the winters are so trying, even to the 
 hardy and robust. I should always possess a 
 peculiar delicacy of constitution, they assured 
 me ; but, with due precaution, it might be 
 nothing more. 
 
 So, yielding to the earnest solicitations of 
 my father, I resigned, with heartfelt sorrow, 
 the charge of the flock I so truly loved, and 
 accepted a call to a remote parish in the sunny 
 clime of Florida. Some months, however, must 
 elapse before I could enter upon my duties in 
 this new sphere of action, and I decided upon 
 employing a portion of the intervening time 
 in making a short tour through the most inter- 
 esting parts of England and North "Wales. It 
 is an incident of this journey that I am desir- 
 ous of recording for the amusement and in- 
 struction of my youthful readers. 
 
 It was on a warm September day, when 
 the blue heavens were half-veiled with fleecy 
 clouds, and the trees were just beginning to 
 exhibit those faint, fair tints of gold and 
 orange, which in England herald the approach 
 of autumn, that I gazed for the first time upon 
 the enchanting scenery of the Isle of "Wight,
 
 78 THE CHILDREN OF 
 
 where I had arranged to pass the last week of 
 my stay in Europe. How I revelled in the 
 pure bright sunshine and the balmy air, and 
 in the exquisite loveliness which everywhere 
 surrounded me! all the more enjoyable, per- 
 haps, from the striking contrast they presented 
 to the stormy glories of SNOWDONIA. 
 
 In the course of my journey ings through the 
 island, I came, however, upon a district which, 
 from its exceeding wildness, strongly reminded 
 me of the less mountainous regions of the land 
 I had so lately quitted ; and wishing to explore 
 the locality at leisure, I took up my abode for 
 
 the night in the little village inn of C , 
 
 instead of going on that day to Newport, as I 
 had originally intended. 
 
 Having done full justice to my landlady's 
 good fare, I set sail upon a voyage of discovery, 
 feeling very weary, and yet quite determined 
 to leave no spot of note unvisited through any 
 wilful indolence or neglect. The school at- 
 tracted my attention as I was passing through 
 the hamlet ; so I stopped, and respectfully re- 
 quested leave to enter. The "governess," a 
 cheerful, kindly person, at once acceded to my 
 desire, and I was shown every thing which 
 seemed likely to interest or please a stranger. 
 The pupils were not at that hour occupied with
 
 ST. CATHERINE'S CHANTRY. 79 
 
 their tasks, a circumstance I much regretted ; 
 but I was conducted through the large, airy 
 school-rooms, and allowed to inspect the vari- 
 ous books from which they studied, together 
 with the pretty engravings, all on religious 
 subjects, and the Creed, the Lord's Prayer, 
 and the Ten Commandments, in gilt frames, 
 which formed the only decoration of the walls. 
 
 I was then ushered into a much smaller 
 apartment, fitted up as an infant school ; and 
 when my amiable conductress had explained 
 to me the exact system of instruction here pur- 
 sued, and had also afforded me much informa- 
 tion relative to the attainments of her little 
 scholars, we returned to the outer school-room, 
 where I was shown a grand display of needle- 
 work and copy-books. Of the merits of the 
 former, I must own I am by no means compe- 
 tent to judge ; but as regards the latter, I was 
 greatly struck with the clearness and freedom 
 of the characters, and the extreme neatness 
 which was apparent in the efforts of the very 
 youngest. 
 
 "This may well do credit to a little girl just 
 ten years old," observed Mrs. Johnson, as she 
 placed a writing-book before me on the table. 
 
 " It is certainly remarkable," I replied, gaz- 
 ing with surprise upon the well-formed letters,
 
 80 THE CHILDREN OF 
 
 so bold, and yet so delicate ; " a more legible 
 handwriting I have never seen." 
 
 " Annie Withers is a nice child in all re- 
 spects," resumed the teacher ; " she is so gentle 
 and loving in her disposition. Indeed, the five 
 of that family are all sweet children; there 
 are none of my pupils in whom I can place 
 more entire confidence." 
 
 "And have they been long under your 
 charge ?" I asked. 
 
 " Only for about six months," she replied. 
 "Their father is a respectable Berkshire far- 
 mer, who has but recently removed to the Isle 
 of "Wight. lie and his wife are both indus- 
 trious, contented people, and more excellent 
 neighbors it would be hard to find." 
 
 " They would seem, judging from your ac- 
 count, to have brought up their children ad- 
 mirably well," I said. 
 
 " Yes, indeed," she answered, " although the 
 children have had many advantages, besides 
 those that their parents were able to afford 
 them. This exercise of Annie's will give you 
 some idea of the extent and accuracy of their 
 Scriptural knowledge, for all have, in propor- 
 tion, done as well. It was a task assigned to 
 the whole school at Easter ; they were desired 
 to study the New Testament with care, and
 
 ST. CATHERINE'S CHANTRY. 81 
 
 write out all those passages which refer to the 
 Resurrection of our Lord ; or, if they prefer- 
 red, to indicate the chapter and verse from 
 which the texts were taken. 
 
 "Annie's was evidently the result of dili- 
 gence and attention," she continued, as, having 
 for some time searched unsuccessfully amid the 
 miscellaneous contents of a desk, she at length 
 drew forth a slip of paper containing a list of 
 references, and placed it in my hand. " Per- 
 haps you will like to keep it, sir," she added 
 kindly, on perceiving that I was much pleased 
 with the production ; " it may bring back the 
 recollection of our little village; and as you 
 are a clergyman of the American Church, you 
 may find pleasure in comparing the fruit of 
 our labors in old England, with the great work 
 that is now going forward in your own more 
 distant portion of the same vineyard." 
 
 " It will, indeed, be a source of more grati- 
 fication than you can imagine," I replied, as I 
 cordially shook hands with the good teacher. 
 " I have been wishing to visit your old church," 
 I continued ; " will you be so obliging as to tell 
 me where I can procure the key ?" 
 
 "I can lend you one, sir," she answered, 
 smiling : " it looks sadly neglected now," she 
 added, with a sigh ; " but I am hoping still to
 
 82 THE CHILDREN OP 
 
 see the day when it will be restored, and fre- 
 quent services again be held within the walls 
 that now, alas ! are silent throughout all the 
 week." 
 
 Heartily did I re-echo Mrs. Johnson's wish, 
 as I passed along the deserted-looking church- 
 yard, and having, with some difficulty, turned 
 the key in the rusty lock, entered within the 
 mouldering, but still sacred temple. Every 
 thing bore the marks of great antiquity ; but 
 with a moderate degree of care as to the pres- 
 ervation, this would only have enhanced its 
 charm. I had seen many English churches 
 quite as old, but scarcely one which had in- 
 spired me with such melancholy feelings. 
 
 Long did I linger in the shadowy aisles, 
 noting the green stains that defaced the sup- 
 porting pillars, once so beautiful in their spot- 
 less white ; and then turned to inspect more 
 closely the sculptured decorations of the grace- 
 ful arches, fast crumbling to decay. I shiv- 
 ered the while at the vault-like dampness of 
 the place, for the stone floor was uncarpeted, 
 and in some places broken and wet, as though 
 exposed to the moisture of heavy dews. Last 
 of all, I approached the altar: even there the 
 same negligence was but too plainly visible ; 
 and with a saddened spirit I retraced y steps,
 
 ST. CATHERINE 6 CHANTRY. 83 
 
 until I stood once more at the entrance beside 
 the baptismal font. 
 
 I had completed my examination of this an- 
 cient relic, and was about to leave the church, 
 when of a sudden my eye fell upon a narrow, 
 dark flight of stone steps, which I had not be- 
 fore observed. I followed its intricate and 
 winding course until I emerged upon the sum- 
 mit of the square, massive tower, and looked 
 forth with a feeling of relief upon a pure, and 
 peace-breathing, and most lovely landscape. 
 
 I had been seated for some time absorbed in 
 dreamy meditation, gazing out over the silent 
 sea, and watching the rooks, as they wheeled 
 in fantastic circles around the ivied belfry 
 tower, ere I remembered that it was growing 
 late; that I had much to see, and but little 
 time at my disposal : so I arose, and hastily 
 began to descend the ruined staircase, not 
 pausing to reflect that here, of all places, cir- 
 cumspection was requisite. 
 
 I soon experienced the ill effects of heedless- 
 ness, for my foot slipped upon one of the lower 
 steps, and in the endeavor to prevent myself 
 from falling, I instinctively seized hold of a 
 heavy rope that hung from the roof, and was 
 thereupon startled by a loud, ringing peal, 
 which resounded through the lonely aisles,
 
 84 THE CHILDREN OF 
 
 and then died away, leaving a deeper stillness 
 than before. 
 
 For an instant I was overpowered by con- 
 sternation ; and then the almost absurd nature 
 of the incident flashed upon my mind, and I 
 found it well-nigh impossible to restrain a 
 burst of nervous laughter, as imagination pic- 
 tured the groups of villagers crowding to the 
 church, anxious to ascertain the cause of the 
 unwonted sound, and the embarrassment which 
 I, the thoughtless author of the confusion, would 
 be likely to feel under these trying circum- 
 stances. But a timely recollection of the sanc- 
 tity of the spot restored my self-possession ; 
 and grieved that I had been betrayed into even 
 a momentary irreverence, I quietly took up my 
 station in the outer porch, resolved to deliver 
 as satisfactory an explanation as possible to my 
 eager querists, when they should arrive. 
 
 To my great joy, however, no one appeared 
 in view except the aged sexton a calm, grave 
 man, of venerable aspect, with a mild coun- 
 tenance and thin silvery locks. " He had seen 
 a gentleman enter the church," he said, " and 
 had imagined that the sudden peal was owing 
 to some accident. There was no occasion for 
 me to be annoyed, for it was even doubtful 
 whether any but himself had heard the bell,
 
 ST. CATHERINE'S CHANTEY. 85 
 
 or, at all events, would pay any attention to 
 it ; the children were engaged in their evening 
 tasks ; the laborers were abroad ; and their 
 wives, in all probability, too much engrossed 
 with household duties to admit of their regard- 
 ing any thing beyond." So I dismissed all 
 fear lest I had beeti a disturber of the public 
 peace, and entered into conversation with my 
 gray-headed companion. 
 
 Christopher Matthews, for that was the old 
 sexton's name, proved alike intelligent and 
 
 agreeable. He had lived all his life at C , 
 
 he told me, and had only upon one occasion 
 been absent from the island for a week. It was 
 fourteen years since he had held the position 
 he now occupied ; and he had many histories, 
 all full of warning and instruction, to relate 
 concerning those whose ashes were reposing 
 beneath the sombre, mournful yew-trees, which 
 overshadowed this secluded burial-ground. 
 
 "We were thus engaged, old Christopher hav- 
 ing reached the most interesting passage of a 
 simple, touching tale of village life, and I, lis- 
 tening to his words with deep attention, when 
 the current of my ideas was diverted in an un- 
 expected manner. A group of children had 
 just turned a corner of the road, and were 
 winding up the hill, in the direction of the 
 8
 
 86 THE CHILDREN OF 
 
 church, and although they were still distant, I 
 could perceive that each one carried a small 
 volume, which appeared to be a Prayer-book. 
 
 " Is there to be a celebration of Divine ser- 
 vice here this afternoon ?" I inquired, turning 
 quickly to my companion, and rather abruptly 
 breaking in upon the thread of his discourse. 
 
 " ISTo, sir, not that I know of," he answered, 
 with evident surprise ; " but what made you 
 think of it just now ?" 
 
 "Then where are THEY going?" I demanded, 
 pointing to the little band, which was at that 
 instant passing before the church-yard gate. 
 
 " Oh ! I see, sir," the old man answered, with 
 a smile ; " those are the Children of St. Cath- 
 erine's Chantry." 
 
 "St. Catherine's Chantry," I rejoined; "can 
 you mean the ruined chapel, or hermitage, 
 which stands upon the hill above the village ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir; you are doubtless well acquainted 
 with the spot?" 
 
 " No ; I arrived in C , for the first time, 
 
 this afternoon, and expect, God willing, to 
 leave here again to-morrow. I have, however, 
 read descriptions of the scenery, and quite in- 
 tend visiting St. Catherine's Downs ere night- 
 fall. But what can these children have to do 
 with the old oratory?"
 
 ST. CATHERINE'S CHANTRY. 87 
 
 "That I will tell you with pleasure," he 
 replied ; " it is curious enough for such young 
 things. But stay," he continued, interrupting 
 himself ; " you can see them now, sir, on the 
 lowest ridge of yonder hill ; they will soon be 
 out of sight, for the path winds down through 
 that ravine." 
 
 I followed the direction of his eye, and could 
 plainly distinguish the little group of whom 
 we had been speaking ; the two eldest, a boy 
 and a girl, apparently about eleven and twelve, 
 were walking side by side, while the younger 
 members of the party were dispersed in glad- 
 some mirth over the grassy slope, and in the 
 sunny hollows; I could just catch the silvery 
 sound of their sweet, ringing laughter, and my 
 heart grew light as I dwelt upon this lovely 
 picture of child-like innocence and joy. 
 
 " It is now about six months," resumed the 
 sexton, "since the Withers family has been 
 established in our hamlet." 
 
 " Withers !" I once more interrupted ; " do 
 you mean the farmer's family from Berk- 
 shire?" 
 
 "Yes, sir; if you are from that part of 
 the country, you may know something of 
 them?" 
 
 " No," I replied ; " but I learned somewhat
 
 88 THE CHILDREN OF 
 
 of their history from Mrs. Johnson:" and I 
 recounted that part of my conversation with 
 the governess. 
 
 "Mrs. Johnson has told you a great deal 
 about the children," was his comment, " but 
 I wonder to find that she has omitted what is, 
 to my mind, the most interesting of all. You 
 must know then, sir, that when the Withers 
 first came here it was towards the close of Lent. 
 Upon the very afternoon of their arrival, the 
 two eldest stopped at my cottage to ascertain 
 the hours of daily service. I had to tell them 
 that there were morning prayers at eleven, on 
 every "Wednesday and Friday during Lent, but 
 that there was no week-day service at other 
 times except on special festivals. 
 
 " They soon learned to love their new abode, 
 and I am sure no happier children can be 
 found in England ; but I must go on with my 
 story. Throughout Holy Week we had daily 
 prayers, and on no one occasion were any of 
 the little strangers absent. One day when the 
 congregation had dispersed, and Willie re- 
 mained alone in the church-yard with his 
 youngest sister, whom Annie had begged him 
 to take charge of for an hour, while she went 
 upon an errand for their mother, I approached 
 the boy, of whom I was already growing to
 
 ST. CATHERINE'S CHANTEY. 89 
 
 be fond, and asked whether he and his sister 
 Annie were beginning to be reconciled to their 
 home at C . 
 
 " ' We like the Isle of Wight, and we love 
 you all here so much,' he replied, as he raised 
 his soft, dark-hazel eyes to mine: 'this week 
 it has seemed quite like Ferndale,' he con- 
 tinued ; ' 1 never knew before it was possible 
 to feel sorry that Easter is so near.' 
 
 " ' Because there will only be service after 
 that on Sundays, I suppose, you mean.'" 
 
 As the aged narrator paused for breath, I 
 said, " I have often felt disheartened, when my 
 people did not appear to value the holy priv- 
 ileges which were vouchsafed to them ; but, 
 perhaps, as in this .instance, they may have 
 been a source of comfort to some of the tender 
 lambs among us." 
 
 " I think, very often, how much pleased Mr. 
 Croswell, their former pastor at Ferndale, 
 would be to know that his efforts were not 
 thrown away," continued Christopher ; " but 
 I have not yet finished what I had begun to 
 tell you. A few weeks after Easter, when the 
 days began to lengthen, and the weather to 
 become mild and less uncertain, these children 
 were observed, for three successive evenings, 
 to pass along the road, bearing their small
 
 90 THE CHILDREN OF 
 
 Prayer-books in their hands, precisely as you 
 have this moment seen them. 
 
 "At last I had the curiosity to inquire of 
 my young friends the reason of this rather 
 singular proceeding. "With winning frankness 
 the dear children at once told me all. ' They 
 had been so afraid lest they might, in time, 
 forget what they had learned at Fernclale,' 
 Annie said, ' Mr. Croswell had so constantly 
 urged them, never, if they could possibly avoid 
 it, to suffer any thing to interfere with the 
 duty of attending public worship ; and on the 
 very day that they had called at the rectory to 
 say farewell, he advised them, whenever they 
 were prevented from joining in the public ser- 
 vices, to make a point of -reading the Psalms 
 and Lessons for the day in private. They had 
 family prayers, morning and evening, here ; 
 but the little ones were too young to sit up 
 until nine o'clock, and she and "Willie were 
 often so tired as to be scarcely able to profit 
 by them.' 
 
 "It was for this reason that they had re- 
 solved to go every afternoon, when it should 
 be fine, to the old Chantry, and read a portion 
 of the service there." 
 
 "But why did they select St. Catherine's 
 Chantry?"
 
 ST. CATHERINE'S CHANTRY. 91 
 
 "Well, sir, I scarcely know; partly, I be- 
 lieve, because of its being so lonely and retired. 
 Hardly any persons pass that way, and they 
 can read aloud, and chant their beautiful an- 
 thems, without ever being overheard. One 
 very still evening, it is true, I fancied, while 
 standing at my garden-gate, that I could just 
 distinguish the sweet notes of some sacred 
 music floating on the breeze ; but it was very 
 faint, and I do not feel at all sure that I was 
 not mistaken." 
 
 "And do you never accompany them?" I 
 asked ; " surely your presence could not fail to 
 be acceptable." 
 
 " I think they always like to have me with 
 them," said old Christopher, with a quiet smile ; 
 " but the road is more steep, sir, than you 
 would suppose ; and I have, for many years, 
 found it difficult to climb. Some of their 
 school-fellows, however, go occasionally, but it 
 does not come so naturally to them ; and my 
 little niece, Lucy Foster, is, I believe, the only 
 one who perseveres. She is with her friends 
 this evening, and is* almost as regular as they 
 are ; but you know, sir, as a general rule, 
 children require to be brought up to it, and 
 then it does not seem strange to them in after 
 life."
 
 92 THE CHILDREN OF 
 
 "Very true," I replied; and I inwardly 
 formed a resolution of being even more par- 
 ticular than heretofore, in impressing upon the 
 younger portion of my flock the necessity of 
 cultivating devout habits in childhood, since 
 none can aright estimate the unspeakable ad- 
 vantage which such a course will prove to us 
 in later years. " And now, I must say good- 
 bye to you, with many thanks for the interest- 
 ing details yon have given me," I said, turning 
 once more to the venerable sexton. " I am 
 going to stroll slowly in the direction of the 
 Chantry, as I presume there will be no danger 
 now of disturbing your little friends." 
 
 "None in the world, sir," he answered, as 
 he unfastened the gate, and stepped aside to 
 let me pass. " I dare say you will find them 
 sporting as merrily as young lambs upon the 
 hill-side, for they seldom return home till 
 twilight," 
 
 A few minutes' walk from the church-yard 
 brought me to the foot of the high downs ; 
 there was a narrow sheep-path leading among 
 the hills, but the ascent was so gradual, that it 
 was only when I paused, and looking back, 
 beheld the sunlit valley lying far below, that 
 I began to realize the height on which I stood. 
 Towards the last, however, the rise became
 
 ST. CATHKSQfffc*B UHAJfTKY. 93 
 
 more abrupt ; and just at this point 1 contrived 
 to uiiss the track, ever wandering higher, but 
 still seeing no trace whatever of the ancient 
 chantry. 
 
 At length I discerned the dim outline of 
 some building, evidently in a ruinous condi- 
 tion, which, upon a nearer view, proved to be 
 a dilapidated light-house. There was some- 
 thing picturesque in its appearance, owing 
 chiefly, no doubt, to the peculiarly desolate 
 and melancholy character of the scenery by 
 which it was surrounded. I entered within 
 the roofless walls, and stood listening with a 
 sad and pensive pleasure to the mournful sigh- 
 ing of the autumn wind as it swept over the 
 barren moor. Suddenly with scarcely, as it 
 seemed, a moment's notice the wind died 
 quite away ; then it rose again, with more re- 
 sistless power, rushing in fitful gusts across 
 the waste, while still louder, and yet more 
 loud, swelled its mysterious and wild min- 
 strelsy. Then came a long, crashing peal of 
 thunder, followed by a flash of lightning, so 
 intensely keen, that instinctively I closed my 
 eyes, and retreated into the darkest corner of 
 the ruin. 
 
 A moment's reflection, however, convinced 
 me that there would, in all likelihood, be less
 
 94 THE CHILDREN OF 
 
 danger in the open air, and I resolved upon 
 making an attempt to regain the village. Had 
 I been aware of the direction in which St. 
 Catherine's Chantry lay, I should at once have 
 hastened to the succor of the helpless children, 
 who might, perchance, have been, like myself, 
 overtaken by the fury of the gale ; but I did 
 not even know which way to turn ; and while 
 I was still looking down upon the valley, 
 where the glory of a stormy sunset rested, 
 heavy wreaths of mist came rolling up the 
 mountain-side ; black, lowering clouds gath- 
 ered like a curtain over the face of the blue 
 sky ; and then the rain broke upon me with 
 fierce, relentless force, until I was for a time 
 fairly blinded by the violence of the tempest. 
 
 On and on I struggled, not knowing whither 
 I was borne ; now standing still to avoid being 
 carried down the slope, and anon driven like 
 a forest-leaf before the whirling blast. Of one 
 thing, however, I felt certain, I was attaining 
 a greater elevation, not as I had at first hoped, 
 making my descent into the bosom of the shel- 
 tered vale. Finally, all involuntary progress 
 was arrested by a rough stone wall, to which I 
 clung in desperation, determined to await with 
 patience until the war of the elements should 
 in some measure subside. My very natural
 
 ST. CATHERINE'S CHANTRY. 95 
 
 feeling of curiosity to gain some notion of my 
 whereabouts was not long in being gratified, 
 for a flash of lightning soon revealed the scene, 
 rendered for an instant distinctly visible in the 
 lurid glare. 
 
 Beyond the wall already mentioned, stretched 
 a treeless moor, as brown and uncultivated as 
 imagination can conceive, in the midst of which 
 rose up abruptly a steep and almost precipitous 
 peak, crowned at its very summit by one of the 
 most extraordinary edifices I have ever seen. 
 I do not believe that I can describe it ; for it 
 will often happen that those objects which, 
 when taken as a whole, combine to make the 
 deepest and most indelible impression on the 
 mind, are at the same time less accurately 
 shadowed forth by memory in their minuter 
 details. 
 
 The building itself was of gray stone that 
 at least I can remember and I know, too, that 
 it was lofty : composed of one single, slender- 
 pointed tower, which, notwithstanding its 
 slight proportions, conveyed the idea of dura- 
 bility and massive strength. There was a 
 large aperture on the side nearest to me, 
 which had once, in all probability, served the 
 purpose of a window ; it had a strange, goblin- 
 like appearance now, and at first sight called
 
 96 THE CHILDREN OF 
 
 up some of those vague, nervous feelings that 
 are apt to be suggested by the perusal of a 
 German fairy-tale. But a more soothing train 
 of thought succeeded. From that dark, lonely 
 tower had once streamed forth the beacon-light 
 which, to the mariner tossed on the bosom of 
 the surging billows, had doubtless often shone 
 as a bright star of hope, and pledge of peace 
 and safety. 
 
 Low, solemn chants had also mingled of yore 
 with the wild music of the midnight blast ; and 
 the voice of the solitary hermit-priest, the sole 
 dweller on that isolated peak, had been con- 
 tinually raised in supplication for those who 
 might chance to be exposed to all the perils 
 and horrors of the mighty deep. 
 
 Perhaps it was some unconscious feeling of 
 reverence for a spot thus consecrated by the 
 prayers of Christians, in early days, which had 
 induced the children to select this ancient ora- 
 tory as the scene of their simple, but sublime 
 devotions. At all events, I liked to think so, 
 and it was pleasant to reflect that the place 
 which had of old been hallowed was thus ren- 
 dered sacred even now. 
 
 Taking advantage of a temporary cessation 
 of the storm, I lost no time in scaling the high 
 inclosure, and resolutely following on the up-
 
 ST. CATHERINE 6 CHANTRY. 97 
 
 ward course ; after much hard labor, I finally 
 attained the desired position, and stood tri- 
 umphantly upon the top of St. Catherine's 
 Hill, the loftiest point of land in the whole 
 island, being just nine hundred feet above the 
 level of the sea. 
 
 The tempest was evidently beginning to 
 abate, although the heavens were still wrapt 
 in gloom, and the wailing wind was yet heard 
 at intervals. But a great change had surely 
 taken place, either in the aspect of outward 
 nature, or in the frame of my own mind. I 
 was no longer oppressed with a sense of awe 
 so profound as almost to deserve the name of 
 terror ; softer emotions took possession of my 
 soul, and the beautiful lines of Coleridge, de- 
 scriptive of those thrilling strains which, from 
 time to time burst from the spirits of the gale, 
 recurred to my memory : 
 
 " And now 'tis like all instruments, 
 
 Now like a lonely flute ; 
 And now it is an angel's song, 
 That makes the heavens be mute." 
 
 At the same moment a pale, silvery streak 
 
 brightened the edge of a dark mass of clouds, 
 
 and soon the full, round moon beamed forth, 
 
 shedding a mild and tender lustre over the 
 
 9
 
 98 THE CHILDREN OF 
 
 mountain solitude. It was not yet sufficiently 
 settled to admit of my returning to the inn, so 
 I determined to seek the refuge which was 
 close at hand, and there to abide the issue of 
 events ; but upon nearing the entrance of the 
 chantry, I fancied that I clearly heard the 
 sound of a sweet, melodious voice, and pausing 
 to listen I found that I was not mistaken. The 
 tone was that of childhood, and the words 
 those of the Second Collect appointed for the 
 daily Evening Service, the form of which has 
 been slightly altered in our American edition 
 of the Prayer-book, but which, in its present 
 version, seemed to me even more appropriate 
 to the time and place. 
 
 " Lighten our darkness, we beseech Thee, O 
 Lord ! and by Thy great mercy defend us from 
 all perils and dangers of this night, for the 
 love of Thy only Son, our Saviour, Jesus 
 Christ." There was a low, responsive " Amen" 
 breathed in several voices, and then followed 
 an unbroken stillness. 
 
 I can scarcely imagine the effect which this 
 extraordinary scene would have produced upon 
 me, but for my previous knowledge of the cir- 
 cumstances I have narrated. As it was, the 
 incident, although wholly unforeseen, was yet 
 one for which I could account. These were,
 
 ex. CATHERINE'S CHANTRY. 99 
 
 beyond all doubt, the Children of St. Cather- 
 ine's Chantry ; and with a fear that my too 
 sudden appearance might create alarm, I turned 
 away, in order to reflect upon my further move- 
 ments. 
 
 There was a calm, deep hush brooding over 
 all the landscape ; the stars were glittering in 
 their azure vault, and the tremulous brightness 
 of the moonbeams played upon the surface of 
 the waters, and silvered even the gray chantry 
 walls. Within the tower itself, however, no 
 ray of light appeared to penetrate; all was 
 enveloped in mysterious darkness, until at 
 length, as the fair orb of night rode higher 
 and higher in the heavens, a quivering radiance 
 partially dispelled the gloom, revealing the 
 faint outline of a lovely group. 
 
 The soft, pale light streamed full upon the 
 central figure. It was that of a little maiden, 
 seated upon the stone floor, with one arm 
 resting for support against a projection that 
 had once formed part of a staircase, winding 
 round the interior of the tower; while the 
 other entwined a cherub boy, seemingly some 
 few years younger than the girl, whose face 
 beamed with the mingled expression of a 
 mother's tenderness and a sister's pride, as 
 she bent over the fair head, shaded by its
 
 100 THE CHILDREN OF 
 
 clustering golden ringlets, which nestled on 
 her bosom. 
 
 Around were scattered other forms, shadowy 
 and indistinct, and the breathless silence that 
 had at first excited my surprise, was now 
 clearly explained ; unquestionably, it was a 
 dread lest the babe's tranquil sleep should be 
 disturbed. There is a spell in the repose of 
 infant innocence, of which all, even the most 
 thoughtless, must, I am persuaded, own the 
 power, and I felt as though I could not venture 
 to dissolve the charm. 
 
 But the evening was already far advanced, 
 for the storm had been of long duration, and I 
 was quite aware that the shelter of a comfort- 
 able home would be more conducive to the 
 health and well-being of us all than a pro- 
 tracted exposure to the chill night air, laden 
 with heavy vapors. Therefore I approached 
 the window, intending to announce myself as 
 a protector to the children, and fully confident 
 
 of my ability to conduct them to C in 
 
 safety. 
 
 " Is not this St. Catherine's Chantry 2" I in- 
 quired, speaking very gently, in order not to 
 awaken apprehension; but I need not have 
 been so scrupulous, for there is a fearless con- 
 fidence in childhood, which, knowing little of
 
 ST. CATHERINE'S CBANTKY. lOi 
 
 evil, has not yet learned to suspect its pres- 
 ence. 
 
 "Yes, sir, this is the chantry," replied a 
 boyish voice ; and the speaker, rising from the 
 furthest recess in which he had been ensconced, 
 came forward slowly into the moonlight; "per- 
 haps you have lost your way in the thunder- 
 storm," he continued. " "Will you not come in 
 and take a seat until the rain is over ?" 
 
 " It is not raining now," I said ; " do you 
 not see how brightly the moonbeams dance 
 upon the water ?" 
 
 " It was storming heavily when I last looked 
 out," he answered, " although even then there 
 was a path of light upon the sea ; but now 
 that it is once more fine, and the wind less 
 boisterous, our father will be able to come up 
 for us, I know." 
 
 " Are you afraid, then, to return to C 
 
 alone ?" I asked. 
 
 " No, not afraid," the boy replied ; " but his 
 father would not like him to descend St. Cath- 
 erine's Hill after nightfall, more especially with 
 his young sisters, and their infant charge. His 
 parents had both warned him against making 
 any such attempt, in case they should ever 
 chance to be involved in such an adventure as 
 had actually befallen them ; a circumstance far 
 90
 
 102 THE CHILDREN OF 
 
 from improbable, as the event of a sudden 
 storm in these regions is by no means uncom- 
 mon. 
 
 "Do you think your parents would object 
 to your returning home under my care ?" I in- 
 quired ; " it might save them from some anx- 
 iety on your account." 
 
 " Oh ! they will not be anxious," said a low, 
 girlish voice. " Mother has often said, that 
 she would trust us anywhere with Willie." 
 
 " Except to wander about the downs at 
 night, I suppose you mean, Annie," rejoined 
 her brother, with a smile ; and then turning to 
 me, he added : " My father once slipped down, 
 after dark, into a hollow of this very hill, w r hen 
 
 he was staying as a little boy at C ; and 
 
 as he broke his arm, and suffered greatly for a 
 long time afterwards, it is that, I dare say, 
 that makes him so particular about us." 
 
 " Yes, it could hardly be otherwise," I an- 
 swered ; " and since I am quite a stranger in 
 these parts, I should like to remain with you, 
 if you have no objection, rather than run any 
 risk of leading you into danger, or of falling 
 into it myself, for that matter. Do you think 
 your father will guide me to the village when 
 he comes to seek you ?" 
 
 " Oh ! yes, sir, I am very sure he will," said
 
 ST. CATHEKIXE'S CUANTKY. 103 
 
 Annie ; " and I think we may expect him every 
 moment now. Will you not come in and rest ?" 
 she added, moving aside so as to leave room 
 for me to seat myself. 
 
 " Thank you," I replied ; " it is so pleasant 
 here, that I believe I will linger and enjoy the 
 air. This is a singular spot," I continued : 
 "old Christopher, the sexton, tells me that 
 you come here very often." 
 
 "Yes, nearly every evening," answered 
 "W illie. " It is so quiet, and it seems almost 
 like a church." 
 
 "And do you begin to love St. Catherine's 
 Chantry as much as the little church at Fern- 
 dale ?" I inquired. 
 
 " Ferrdale !" he exclaimed, while his eyes 
 sparkled at sound of the familiar name ; " oh, 
 no, that is impossible ! But have you ever 
 been there, sir, and do you know Mr. Cros- 
 well?" 
 
 "No, I have never visited your Berkshire 
 home," I replied ; " but I can quite well under- 
 stand how sorry you must have been to leave 
 it. Old Christopher has given me a sketch ot 
 your story ; and I was glad to hear that you so 
 highly prized the blessings which you there 
 enjoyed, and that although they are withdrawn 
 for a season, you still endeavor to keep up the
 
 104 THE CHILDREN OF 
 
 habits which your excellent rector took such 
 pains to inculcate. 1 ' 
 
 " Yes, sir ; we try not to forget what Mr. 
 Croswell taught us," replied Willie, " and we 
 like very much to come here and read the 
 prayers ; but it is much pleasanter to hare a 
 clergyman." 
 
 " That," I rejoined, " is a feeling into which I 
 can fully enter ; yet still, dear children, perse- 
 vere, and be assured that a Divine blessing 
 will rest upon your feeble efforts. You, Willie, 
 and your eldest sister, have a peculiar respon- 
 sibility," I continued, "for you have enjoyed 
 the advantages resulting from a regular attend- 
 ance upon public worship, at an age when you 
 were fitted to appreciate them, and thus you 
 have a great duty to discharge towards the 
 little ones, who \vill not fail to be strongly in- 
 fluenced by your example." 
 
 " Yes," observed Annie ; " Mr. Croswell told 
 us that we should try to remember this when- 
 ever w r e are tempted to do wrong ; and that is 
 very often," she added, with a sigh. 
 
 "And, therefore, we must not trust in our 
 own strength," I said; "for, as the Church 
 Catechism expresses it, we ' cannot walk in 
 God's commandments, nor serve Him, without 
 His special grace, which we must learn at all
 
 ST. CATHERINE'S CHANTRY. 105 
 
 times to call for by diligent prayer ;' but this, 
 I hope and believe, you do not neglect. I am 
 a clergyman ; and should I be permitted to 
 regain my distant home in safety, I will think 
 particularly of you when I am performing the 
 service in my little parish church, beneath the 
 bright blue skies of Florida, for you know that 
 ' we are all members one of another.' " 
 
 " And since you are a clergyman, will you 
 say some of the Collects for us now ?" pleaded 
 the little boy, with a singular blending of 
 timidity and earnestness. 
 
 It was with great satisfaction that I acceded 
 to this request ; and entering within the time- 
 worn walls, I knelt, surrounded by the chil- 
 dren, in that ancient chantry, and repeated 
 several of those prayers in which we all found 
 such delight. When the sacred duty was con- 
 cluded, I resumed the conversation with my 
 youthful friends, and was alike charmed with 
 their intelligence and simplicity. As time 
 passed, however, I became uneasy at the good 
 farmer's non-appearance, and was just endeav- 
 oring to decide whether or not it would be 
 prudent to wait any longer in the hope of his 
 arrival, when all at once we heard the sound 
 of voices ; and Lucy Foster, a timid, gentle 
 child, who had not until then ventured upon a
 
 106 THE CHILDREN OF 
 
 remark, declared that Uncle Christopher was 
 of the party. I smiled rather incredulously 
 at this announcement, but the next instant I 
 heard the old man anxiously inquiring if the 
 children were quite safe. 
 
 " Yes, they are quite safe," I replied, as I 
 advanced to meet him ; " but how is it that 
 you have gained strength and courage to 
 ascend St. Catherine's Hill at this late hour?" 
 
 " Oh ! are you here, sir ?" he exclaimed with 
 joy; "I had hoped it might be so ; and, per- 
 haps, it was not right of me to come, for my 
 good neighbor would have reached here long 
 ago, if he had not been obliged to stop for me 
 so often, when I was out of breath ; but I felt 
 unhappy about the children, and could not 
 bear to let him go alone." 
 
 "You see there was no occasion to be 
 troubled, Uncle Christopher," said the stout 
 farmer, coming up to where we stood ; " I told 
 you we could trust to their staying quietly 
 where they were. How now, my boys and 
 girls," he continued, in a cheerful tone, as we 
 came near the hermitage, " are you ready to 
 go home, or should you prefer staying here all 
 night ?" 
 
 "Mother has not been anxious, has she?" 
 inquired Annie.
 
 ST. CATHERINE'S CHANTRY. 107 
 
 " No, to be sure not," said her father ; " but 
 I dare say she will be as well pleased to have 
 you back again : so now we will set out, if you 
 please, sir," he added, turning to address me. 
 
 Our progress down the slippery steep was 
 slow, but fortunately accomplished without 
 any accident. The farmer went first, carry- 
 ing his infant boy, and leading his youngest 
 daughter by the hand ; Willie followed next, 
 with Lucy Foster and his sister Annie ; while 
 I brought up the rear, with little Freddy and 
 old Christopher on either side. In this way 
 we reached the village ; and when we arrived 
 opposite the church, I was obliged to take 
 leave of my interesting companions. The fare- 
 well was a sad one, as it seemed improbable 
 that in this world we should ever meet again ; 
 but it was a great pleasure to have formed this 
 friendship, for its memory is precious to me 
 now, and I trust that in a future state our in- 
 tercourse will be renewed. 
 
 I left C early upon the ensuing day, 
 
 and after a short and pleasant drive arrived at 
 Newport. My first visit was to the principal 
 bookseller in the little town, of whom I pur- 
 chased a Church Service, simply but neatly 
 bound, ornamented with a cross and a gilt- 
 clasp. This I inclosed in a parcel, directed to
 
 108 CHILDREN OF ST. CATHERINE'S CHANTRY. 
 
 the good old sexton, accompanied by a note, in 
 which I requested him to present the volume, 
 as a token of affectionate remembrance from 
 an American clergyman, to 
 
 . datfcmne's Cjplrg."
 
 SAND DRAWINGS. 
 
 " Little deeds of kindness, 
 
 Little words of love, 
 Make our earth an Eden, 
 Like the heaven above." 
 
 HE morning had been cold and 
 comfortless. It was just such 
 weather as one is often called 
 upon to endure in England, 
 throughout the proverbially 
 gloomy season of November. 
 By twelve o'clock, however, the dull, leaden 
 bank of clouds, which had for several days 
 hung ominously over the landscape, began to 
 exhibit a less hopeless aspect ; the pouring 
 rain subsided, by degrees, into a misty drizzle, 
 which, in its turn, passed away : and when a 
 streak of very pale blue sky was at length 
 visible, little Ida Herbert, a merry child of six 
 years old, who had been stationed for the last 
 ten minutes beside the bow-casement, in the 
 pleasant drawing-room of "Whitethorn Lodge, 
 10
 
 110 SAXD DRAWINGS. 
 
 burst into a joyous laugh, and ran away to 
 seek her elder sister, whom she found ever 
 ready to participate in her pleasures. 
 
 " Edward and I shall be able to go to the 
 woods with nurse this afternoon," she exclaim- 
 ed, dancing like a fairy of the sunbeam about 
 the spacious chamber. " O Carrie ! are you 
 not delighted to see this lovely day at last, 
 and are you not in a great hurry to have din- 
 ner over?" 
 
 " Yes, indeed ; this glimpse of sunshine is 
 most cheering, and I hope sincerely that you 
 may enjoy your walk, my darling : provided 
 that it still continues fair, and that mamma 
 does not object," replied Caroline, who wisely 
 refrained from casting a shade over Ida's joyful 
 anticipations, by saying how extremely im- 
 probable she considered both contingencies. 
 It is far better to trust that the good sense of 
 children will enable them to bear a disappoint- 
 ment, than to damp their ardor upon all oc- 
 casions by predicting difficulties, which may 
 prove but visionary in the end. 
 
 ""Will you not come with us, Carrie?" in- 
 quired little Ida, in a coaxing tone, as she 
 twined one of her sister's dark curls around 
 her finger. 
 
 " No, I cannot this afternoon," said Caroline.
 
 SAND DRAWINGS. Ill 
 
 "I ought to visit poor old Bridget Simpson, 
 and Thomas Brown's sick grandchild ; you 
 know it is now three days since we have heard 
 news of either." 
 
 "Yes, only I cannot spare you," said the 
 child ; " I should like to keep you always to 
 myself." 
 
 " But I think you will be able to manage 
 without me for two hours, and I do not expect 
 to try your patience longer," returned Caro 
 line, laughing. " So now you shall come with 
 me to the store-room, and help me pack my 
 basket," she continued, as she took a key from 
 her work-box, and led the way up-stairs. 
 
 "What do you mean to take?" demanded 
 Ida, looking round upon the well-filled shelves. 
 
 " Mamma said that I might have some rice 
 and sugar, with ajar of currant-jelly, and any 
 thing else that I thought best," answered Caro 
 line ; " so now we will decide together. Here 
 is a seed-cake, which looks nice and fresh, and 
 there is the remainder of those sugar-biscuits 
 that Gerald brought us from New York." 
 
 " Oh ! but Carrie, there is nothing that you 
 like so much," remonstrated the little girl. 
 
 " Yes," rejoined her sister ; " but I am the 
 only one of the family who fancies them, and 
 you know that I am strong and able to
 
 112 SAND DRAWINGS. 
 
 all my meals with a good appetite ; whereas 
 Dame Bridget has been ill for many months, 
 and is so weak that she can scarcely take any 
 nourishment at all. Perhaps these little cakes, 
 being so light and delicate, may tempt her, 
 and she may be able to like them with her cup 
 of tea." 
 
 " Oh ! I have thought of something she will 
 be certain to enjoy," cried Ida. "You remem- 
 ber the fine hot-house grapes which mamma 
 gave me yesterday ? I laid them aside until 
 to-day, because it was too late to eat them ; so 
 now you will put them for me in the basket, 
 will you not, dear sister ?" 
 
 " I will, indeed, my love," said Caroline ; 
 " and I am sure that you will feel rewarded for 
 this trifling act of self-denial, by the reflection 
 that what would have been merely an article 
 of luxury to yourself may prove a real com- 
 fort to an infirm and aged fellows-creature ; and 
 while thus striving to relieve the sufferings of 
 others, you will experience the truth and beauty 
 of our Saviour's precept, that ' it is more blessed 
 to give than to receive.' " 
 
 Ida seemed pensive for a moment at the con- 
 clusion of this sentence ; and then upon hear- 
 ing the bell, which summoned the whole family 
 to their early dinner, she bounded gayly down
 
 SANU DRAWINGS. 113 
 
 the staircase, and soon emerged from the pan- 
 try bearing the luscious fruit, which was duly 
 deposited by her own hand at the top of the 
 small, round Brighton basket Caroline's in- 
 separable companion on her various missions 
 of love among the sick and destitute. The 
 clouds once more gathered while they were 
 seated at the table ; but as both the children 
 looked pale and languid, from want of the 
 exercise to which they were accustomed, Mrs. 
 Herbert was induced to yield to Ida's en- 
 treaties, and consent that they should try to 
 secure a short walk in the interval between 
 the showers : " only they must not go into the 
 woods," she said, "and on no account were 
 they to sit down in the open air." So, thank- 
 ful for even this permission, Ida and Edward 
 set forth upon a ramble with their nurse, and 
 Caroline was not long in following their ex- 
 ample. 
 
 It was miserably cheerless out of doors ; the 
 ground was saturated with the recent rain, and 
 the yellow leaves which strewed the gravel- 
 walk spoke sadly of the short-lived joys of 
 summer. There was no inducement to prolong 
 one's walk ; and Caroline having satisfactorily 
 accomplished her visits, both of which were 
 in the immediate neighborhood, returned in 
 10*
 
 114: SAND DRAWINGS. 
 
 little more than an hour's time to Whitethorn. 
 How bright and ruddy seemed the blazing 
 lire; and how unusually comfortable and in- 
 viting was the cozy drawing-room, with its 
 rich, warm crimson curtains and its easy-chairs ! 
 Caroline felt inclined to linger, for she was 
 chilled and tired ; but she resisted the temp- 
 tation to indolence, which was one of her 
 peculiar failings, and proceeded at once up- 
 stairs to divest herself of her wrappings, and 
 to ascertain whether her mother had occasion 
 for her services. 
 
 Mrs. Herbert, who was a confirmed invalid, 
 had fallen asleep in an arm-chair beside the 
 fire, in her own apartment. Caroline placed a 
 screen so as to shield her from the draught ; and 
 then having gently drawn a light silk shawl 
 around her shoulders, she again descended to 
 the drawing-room, where, seating herself be- 
 fore her desk, she commenced a letter to an old 
 and valued friend, who had formerly been her 
 mother's governess. Before she had reached 
 the second page of her epistle, the door was 
 thrown wide open, and the two children ran 
 into the room, with cheeks all rosy-red, from 
 the effects of their walk in the chill, wintry 
 air. 
 
 "It was not pleasant out of doors," said Ida,
 
 SAND DRAWINGS. 115 
 
 in reply to her sister's question as to the reason 
 of their having returned so soon ; " it was cold 
 and wet, and we felt too tired to go farther, 
 since nurse would not allow us to sit down and 
 rest ; so we begged her to bring us back that 
 we might play at baby-house in the warm 
 nursery, instead." 
 
 " I should think that much more agreeable," 
 answered Caroline, "/was by no means sorry 
 to find myself at home again ; but I am glad 
 I went out, notwithstanding. Dear little Mary 
 Brown appeared so pleased to see me, and 
 Dame Bridget was delighted with your pres- 
 ent, Ida. She said that she would keep the 
 fresh, cooling grapes to take at night, when 
 she often lies awake, feeling feverish and 
 thirsty." 
 
 " Well, 1 will put by a part of every thing 
 nice that is given to me for her," rejoined Ida ; 
 " but Eddie will be waiting for me to begin 
 our game," she added, as she crossed the room, 
 and suddenly returning, said : " O Carrie ! I 
 forgot to show you these red berries that we 
 found growing under a hedge by the road-side. 
 Are they not very large and beautiful ?" 
 
 "Yes, they are of a most brilliant color," 
 replied Caroline, as she carefully took the 
 heavy clusters from her sister's hand. " They
 
 116 8 AND DRAWINGS. 
 
 are the seed-cups of the golden lily," she con- 
 tinued ; " I have often admired that very slen- 
 der stem, supporting the brown shrivelled pod, 
 all studded with rows of glowing coral : but 
 what do you intend to do with them ?" 
 
 "I think they will look beautiful in your 
 moss-basket," answered Ida. 
 
 " Well then, dear, will you arrange them ? 
 Only be careful, please, not to injure that 
 moss with pale-pink bells, for it is extremely 
 fragile." 
 
 " But you will do it much better," pleaded 
 Ida, "and then there will be no danger of 
 harming any thing ; it will not take you one 
 minute, darling Carrie, and I shall be so much 
 obliged to you." 
 
 "I suppose, then, I must try," answered 
 Caroline, smiling ; " so run away to Edward 
 now, and you shall judge of my success at tea- 
 time." 
 
 As soon as Ida had departed to the nursery, 
 Caroline betook herself to the task which her 
 little sister had imposed upon her. Time was 
 just then more than usually precious, for she 
 was desirous of concluding her letter before 
 the mail should close, and also of finishing a 
 book of travels, which it was necessary to send 
 home early on the morrow. The one was an
 
 SAND DRAWINGS. 117 
 
 important duty, but in the other case only her 
 own gratification was involved ; so Caroline 
 resolved to make the sacrifice, and accordingly 
 devoted more than twenty minutes to the 
 manufacture of a tiny vase, composed of dark, 
 glossy bay-leaves, and filled with the smallest 
 and brightest of the berries, while the remain- 
 der were tastefully intermingled with the rare 
 specimens of flowering mosses, which a friend 
 had sent her from America. Having thus 
 made provision for Ida's entertainment, Caro- 
 line resumed her interrupted letter ; but there 
 really seemed a spell upon her correspondence, 
 for she had hardly written half a dozen lines 
 before she was again disturbed. 
 
 This time the intruder was a noble-looking 
 boy, between fifteen and sixteen years of age, 
 attired in a midshipman's uniform, and from 
 his striking resemblance to both Caroline and 
 Ida, evidently a member of the family. 
 
 " Why, Gerald," exclaimed Caroline, as she 
 laughingly drew an arm-chair to the fire, " I 
 thought you were too good a sailor to be driven 
 home by a slight shower of rain ; did you not 
 succeed in reaching Laurelton ?" 
 
 " Yes, to be sure, I did," replied her brother, 
 as he stood negligently leaning against the 
 mantel-piece ; " but Harry Ashurst is in Lon-
 
 118 SAND DRAWINGS. 
 
 don, and so I hurried back to take you for a 
 walk, as there is something about which I wish 
 especially to talk with yon." 
 
 " But it is so damp and chilly," began poor 
 Caroline, in a tone of remonstrance ; " and 
 here there will be nobody to interrupt us, for 
 mamma has fallen asleep in her own room, 
 and the little ones are playing in the nursery." 
 
 "Yes, but I cannot explain this matter to you 
 here," said Gerald, " it must be on the spot, 
 Do come, Carrie, there's a jewel ; it is as warm 
 as summer, and the rain has ceased entirely. 
 I dare say we shall have a lovely sunset, If 
 you did but know how I weary of being in a 
 house, after roving over the free blue ocean !" 
 he added, in a tone of self-commiseration. 
 
 " Poor boy ! I suppose I must take pity on 
 you," observed Caroline, good-naturedly, as 
 she replaced her writing implements, and 
 locked the desk. "Though as regards the 
 ocean, Gerald, I am pretty sure that if the 
 truth were told, you are as much of a lands- 
 man as any one on board ; and I even suspect 
 you are occasionally a victim to that very 
 troublesome complaint called sea-sickness, al- 
 though, of course, dignity will not suffer you 
 to own it." 
 
 Gerald only laughed, and begged his sister
 
 SAXD DRAWINGS. 119 
 
 would make haste, as the beauty of the after- 
 noon would be quite over, if they lingered. 
 Caroline did not precisely see wherein the 
 beauty lay, but she assured her brother that 
 she would not detain him longer than she could 
 possibly avoid, and so left the room. 
 
 Poor Caroline ! it was a greater effort for 
 her to brave the mist and cold than Gerald 
 could for an instant have conceived ; but she 
 had long and earnestly endeavored to accustom 
 herself to make sacrifices in a cheerful spirit, 
 for she had been early taught that a fretful 
 and complaining disposition will mar the lus- 
 tre of the brightest deeds, while a sweet and 
 sunny temper will enhance the value of even 
 the most trivial act of kindness. Then, too, 
 came the recollection that her sailor brother 
 would but be a passing guest. A few short 
 weeks would again find him tossed upon the 
 raging deep, hundreds of miles away from 
 home and kindred ; and how, then, could she 
 bear the thought of having denied him any 
 innocent request ? 
 
 This feeling would, in itself, have been suffi- 
 cient to decide her ; but there was yet another 
 and a holier consideration. That self-devotion, 
 which is at all times inculcated upon those 
 who do, in sincerity and truth, desire to be
 
 120 SAND DRAWINGS. 
 
 followers of their blessed Lord, was upon that 
 day more peculiarly enforced by the precepts 
 and example of the Church. It was Friday, 
 a season set apart for acts of self-denial, except 
 when it falls upon the high festival of Christ- 
 mas. 
 
 Caroline had for years striven to conform in 
 this, as in all other particulars, to the teaching 
 of the Prayer-book ; and the effort, great at 
 first, had by degrees become comparatively 
 slight, while the advantage she derived from 
 this observance could not fail to be apparent 
 even to herself, as she perceived the increased 
 facility with which she was enabled to give up 
 her own ease and pleasure for the good of 
 others. A system of this nature, long and 
 resolutely persevered in, from no other motive 
 than that of cultivating a principle of obe- 
 dience, and as a means of strengthening the 
 character, must of necessity render all personal 
 sacrifices easy, when they are undertaken for a 
 special object. 
 
 " And now which way shall we walk ?" in- 
 quired Caroline, as they left the house. " To 
 Mottistone Moor, and the old Druid monu- 
 ment ?" 
 
 "No; to the Pearl and Kainbow Cliffs," 
 said Gerald.
 
 SAND DRAWINGS. 121 
 
 " Less poetically known as Alum Bay," re- 
 sponded Caroline, as she smiled at her young 
 poet brother's rather fanciful designation of a 
 locality which well merited even his enthusi- 
 astic praise. " Come, let me hear your secret, 
 Gerald," she proceeded, after they had con- 
 tinued for some time on their way, without any 
 mention being made of the desired topic. 
 
 But Gerald was not disposed to be commu- 
 nicative ; at least on that subject, for upon all 
 others he conversed so pleasantly, that Caro- 
 line was surprised to find she had actually en- 
 joyed her walk. The afternoon had become 
 singularly lovely ; rather cold, it is true, but 
 pure and bracing, with a fresh wind sweeping 
 across the hills, and wild stormy lights, bright- 
 ening the surface of the ocean. It was a 
 pleasure to ramble over the bleak, lonely 
 downs ; and when at length they paused upon 
 the summit of a lofty chalk cliff, and stood 
 gazing down a sheer precipice of some eighty 
 feet upon the glorious ocean, just then so 
 darkly and intensely blue, Caroline owned 
 candidly that she was well repaid for the exer- 
 tion of leaving home. After lingering a while 
 to watch the myriads of sea-birds, as with 
 shrill screams they darted from their caverned 
 homes, deep in the recesses of the glittering 
 11
 
 122 SAND DRAWINGS. 
 
 peaks, to skim over the crested waves, white 
 as the silvery foam, amid which they were 
 soon lost to sight, the 'brother and sister crossed 
 a narrow neck of land, and then descending by 
 a circuitous footpath to the shore, soon found 
 themselves within the enchanted realm of 
 Alum Bay. 
 
 The scenery of this locality is among the 
 most peculiar in the Isle of "Wight. Caroline 
 and Gerald were seated in a sandy cove, 
 bounded by a semicircular range of cliffs of 
 every imaginable hue : deep crimson and pale 
 rosy-pink ; blue, brown, and gray ; orange and 
 purple ; green, white, and gold ; the whole 
 blazing beneath the burning glow of an au- 
 tumnal sunset, such was the foreground of the 
 picture ; while in the distance rose the misty 
 forms of a still more magnificent and extended 
 range, which, partially illumined by the re- 
 flected glory of the " Rainbow" chain, gleamed 
 with a soft pearly lustre as peculiar as it was 
 exquisite. 
 
 " They would make some use of these things 
 in America, Carrie," observed Gerald, as he 
 diligently employed himself in collecting a 
 handful of small, detached lumps of sand ; and 
 then slowly crumbling them one by one, suf- 
 fered the brilliant particles to fall in gay con-
 
 SAND DRAWINGS. 123 
 
 fusion upon the surface of a pocket-handker- 
 chief, which he had spread upon his knees in 
 readiness to receive them. 
 
 " And so do we make use of them in Eng- 
 land," rejoined Caroline; "for these, in com- 
 mon with the other wondrous works of God, 
 serve both to gladden our eyes and to rejoice 
 our hearts : then who shall venture to affirm 
 that they exist in vain ?" 
 
 " This brown would do nicely for the shading 
 of a house ; and with that green, one might 
 easily imitate the foliage of trees ; and this soft 
 gray yes, that shall be for the walls of some 
 old ruined castle," proceeded Gerald in a mus- 
 ing tone, as without paying attention to his 
 sister's words, he tranquilly pursued his occu- 
 pation. 
 
 " My dear sailor, have you taken leave of 
 your senses ?" demanded Caroline, in an accent 
 of amusement. 
 
 " Have I not often heard you say that you 
 would like to devise some pleasant and profit- 
 able occupation for the children ?" inquired 
 Gerald, without condescending to reply. 
 
 " For Edward and Ida, do you mean ?" 
 asked Caroline. "I think while they are still 
 so young, mamma would prefer not to increase 
 their tasks ; and as regards their recreations, I
 
 124: SAND DRAWINGS. 
 
 have never seen either of them at a loss for 
 amusement during playtime." 
 
 "]STo, not for Ida and Edward, you may be 
 sure," said Gerald ; " four hours of study every 
 day are quite enough for them at present, to 
 say nothing of poor Ida's needlework. l^o, 
 no, I was speaking of the VILLAGE children ; 
 they have leisure sufficient and to spare." 
 
 " Oh ! that has long been one of my chief 
 difficulties," exclaimed Caroline, in a manner 
 from which all trace of lightness had com- 
 pletely vanished. " I know it must be bad for 
 them to be so constantly idle out of school- 
 hours, when they might be earning something 
 for their parents, many of whom are so very 
 poor that even the smallest increase of their 
 means would be a great assistance ; but it 
 seems impossible to contrive any employment 
 that will exactly suit. If you can advise or 
 help me in this matter, Gerald, it will be a 
 greater satisfaction than I can at all express." 
 
 "Set them to work at making sand draw- 
 ings," replied Gerald, with composure. 
 
 " I suppose I must not laugh," said Caroline, 
 " since most of your schemes prove to be good 
 for something in the end ; but I wish you 
 would explain yourself more clearly." 
 
 " "Why you see, Carrie," began Gerald more
 
 SAXD DHA WINGS. 125 
 
 seriously, " it will be an affair of time, and 
 you must prepare your mind for a certain 
 amount of failure and disappointment at the 
 outset." 
 
 "Yes, that of course," replied Caroline, 
 bending forward eagerly; "but pray go on, 
 for I am all impatience." 
 
 "You are a good artist, Came," he con- 
 tinued ; " and I have often heard mother say, 
 that you excel in fancy-work of every sort ; I 
 know you have a large, well-filled portfolio at 
 home ; give me one of the sketches about 
 which you do not care, and I will try to color 
 it in sand." 
 
 " But how do you expect to make the sand 
 adhere?" inquired Caroline, whose curiosity 
 and interest were effectually aroused. 
 
 " By means of a very thin solution of gum- 
 arabic ; but, of course, this is to be only a 
 rough experiment. The drawings will require 
 to be specially made in reference to this pur- 
 pose ; and you will need long and patient 
 practice to attain any thing approaching to 
 perfection." 
 
 " Supposing we were to begin with Steephill 
 Castle," suggested Caroline ; " that, I imagine, 
 we shall not find very difficult." 
 
 "Steephill Castle let it be," said Gerald;
 
 126 SAND DKAAVINGS. 
 
 "and here are abundant materials for this 
 evening's work. But come, sister, let us walk 
 towards home, fox it is growing late, and I do 
 not wish mother to say that I have made you 
 ill." 
 
 " You have not yet told me how this grand 
 project is to benefit the children," remarked 
 Caroline, as she rose and suffered her young 
 brother to draw her arm within his own. 
 
 " Why you may employ them for a while in 
 the collection of your materials ; and that will 
 be no light business, I assure you, for you 
 should only use the cleanest and smoothest 
 specimens, very unlike these pieces which I 
 have just picked up at random ; and you will 
 need every possible variety of the softer tints 
 as well. I should not wonder if there were as 
 many as twenty different shades among these 
 cliffs, and, for aught I can tell, a hundred 
 more. It will be a nice amusement for the 
 children to search for them among the rocks 
 and on the beach; they will make up little 
 parties, and enjoy it above all things pro- 
 vided only that they have some definite aim 
 in view. You might afterwards keep them 
 busy in cleansing and preparing the sand, and 
 in arranging every distinct color separately in 
 little boxes ; I will engage to make you fifty
 
 SAND DRAWINGS. 127 
 
 out of pasteboard, before I am obliged to go 
 away from home." 
 
 " But winter is coming on," objected Caro- 
 line ; " the days are so short and cold already 
 that one has little inclination to venture out." 
 
 " That is an obstacle, I admit," said Gerald 
 thoughtfully. " Still there are frequently mild 
 terms even in mid-winter," he added, in a 
 brighter tone ; " only do not be discouraged, 
 and all will come right in the end. There is 
 one way besides in which it will do immediate 
 good : you can "reward the children for their 
 labor ; that, you perceive, is only just and 
 right, for they will have earned it honestly." 
 
 " Yes, they will be fairly entitled to a recom- 
 pense," observed Caroline ; " and under these 
 circumstances there will be no fear of taking 
 from their self-respect a point about which I 
 try always to be most particular." 
 
 " Well, then," continued Gerald, " if you 
 can advance ten shillings, I will do the same ; 
 and that will make five dollars, or a pound, as 
 one should say in England," he added, laugh- 
 .ing at his own forgetfuliiess. 
 
 "No, indeed, dear Gerald! I cannot take 
 your money," exclaimed Caroline, warmly ; 
 " you can have very little now, for I fear that 
 you have expended nearly the whole of your
 
 128 SAND DRAWINGS. 
 
 allowance upon those beautiful presents which 
 you brought us on your last voyage." 
 
 " But this is my own private scheme a pet 
 project over which I have been dreaming so 
 long. I shall consider it unkind if you do not 
 let me bear my share of the expenses, more 
 especially since I can do little in the way of 
 work ; besides, what is the use of having 
 money unless it enables one to give pleasure ? 
 In this case it will, undoubtedly ; for you 
 know, Carrie, that even a single pound divided 
 among so many, will go far towards providing 
 trifling comforts that will be most acceptable 
 at Christmas-time." 
 
 "Mamma always supplies the Christmas 
 dinner," observed Caroline ; " but, as I said 
 before, the poverty of the cottagers about here 
 is so great, that they would hail with gratitude 
 the smallest addition to their scanty income. 
 I am sure, too, the children will be glad to feel 
 that they are able to assist their parents ; but 
 they cannot be always busied in collecting 
 sand, so what do you intend shall be the next 
 step ?" 
 
 "Let them learn to color your sketches," 
 replied Gerald ; " it is a mere mechanical 
 operation," he continued, in answer to his sis- 
 ter's look of consternation, " You will need
 
 SAND DRAWINGS. 129 
 
 only practice to become quite an adept iii the 
 art ; and I should advise you, as soon as may 
 be, to prepare some drawings in a much neater 
 form on tinted card-board, for example : se- 
 lect any one object, such as a church, or castle, 
 or a pretty cottage, and imitate the natural 
 coloring with as great a degree of accuracy as 
 possible; but do not attempt landscapes yet 
 a while, for they are far more complicated, and 
 it will be better to go on step by step, as in 
 that way one is much more likely to im- 
 prove." 
 
 "And the children had best commence by 
 copying my rough sketches, I suppose," said 
 Caroline. 
 
 " Precisely so," rejoined her brother ; " and 
 you might arrange to meet them in the school- 
 house on any days that you judge most conve- 
 nient. You should lay the materials before 
 them ; explain the process in its minutest de- 
 tails, and, at first, provide them with sand 
 drawings of your own, which they shall be re- 
 quired to imitate exactly. Some of the pupils 
 will master the difficulty soon enough, while 
 others will demand time and patience : but it 
 seems odd for me to be preaching that virtue 
 to you," he added, with a smile. 
 
 " And," inquired Caroline, " what use do
 
 130 SAND DRAWINGS. 
 
 you intend to make of these productions after 
 they shall be completed ?" 
 
 " Your chief embarrassment will be in fur- 
 nishing a sufficient number," returned Gerald. 
 " We must both work very hard this month, 
 so as to finish a few specimens ; although they 
 will, of course, be far inferior to your future 
 efforts : still, the novelty will be sure to please, 
 and I know that Mr. Green, the bookseller, 
 will readily engage to take them off your hands 
 upon condition of receiving half the profits." 
 
 " The subjects of the pictures should all be 
 connected with the Isle of Wight ?" said Caro- 
 line, in an inquiring tone. 
 
 " Yes ; that will be the wisest plan decided- 
 ly ; it will be certain to attract many tourists, 
 who will like to procure them as a souvenir of 
 their travels. Perhaps, too, it may be as well 
 to indicate the precise locality ; and Alum Bay 
 Sands might be inserted in a pretty scroll, or 
 any other fanciful design, for I would have you, 
 by and by, take great pains to embellish your 
 productions. An illuminated border, for in- 
 stance, would set off the more sombre hues of 
 the drawing to great advantage." 
 
 " Pray, how shall I find time for that ?" de- 
 manded Caroline. " My dear Gerald, this is 
 an extremely visionary scheme. Why, it would
 
 SAND DRAWINGS. 131 
 
 absorb all the leisure I can command in a whole 
 fortnight to execute one such border as you 
 propose." 
 
 " I do not mean that all the burden of this 
 undertaking shall fall upon your shoulders, 
 Carrie. Many of your young lady friends 
 will be delighted to assist you. There are Julia 
 Ashurst, and Clara Percival, and Miss Morel ; 
 it will be a nice occupation for their winter 
 evenings, as they all paint beautifully, and it 
 might lead them by degrees to take a greater 
 interest in the children. We will go to Lau- 
 relton to-morrow, should nothing happen to 
 prevent, and have a talk with Julia Ashurst." 
 
 " Here we are, at home!" exclaimed Caroline, 
 in an accent of vexation, " and there are still 
 so many questions that I long to ask you." 
 
 " So you are sorry to return to the warm 
 fireside ?" rejoined her brother, with a smile ; 
 "but never mind, Carrie, for I dare say we 
 shall have a fine chance of building our cas- 
 tles between this and bedtime." 
 
 Seldom was there seen a more cheerful group 
 than that assembled around the social board at 
 Whitethorn Lodge. Gerald, invariably the life 
 of the party, was this evening more than usu- 
 ally gay and full of spirits. A succession of 
 merry games occupied the two succeeding
 
 132 SAND DKAWINGS. 
 
 hours, and when the children were dismissed 
 at eight o'clock, Caroline and her brother drew 
 the small, round table, with its softly shaded 
 lamp, close to the sofa upon which Mrs. Her- 
 bert was reclining, and while employed in 
 overlooking the contents of a huge portfolio, 
 unfolded their new project to their mother's 
 sympathizing ear. 
 
 Mrs. Herbert entered with the warmest in- 
 terest into all their plans. There were many 
 impediments in the way she said, but she had 
 no doubt, that by dint of perseverance, they 
 might be fairly overcome ; it would be a great 
 resource also to Ida, who would, probably, ere 
 long be able to take an active part in the pro- 
 ceedings, as she had already evinced a wonder- 
 ful facility for drawing. It would be an ad- 
 mirable thing, too, to have the village children 
 brought more immediately under Caroline's 
 own eye ; for Mrs. Goodwin, the teacher, had 
 remarked, only the last time she called, that 
 there was no one in the parish who had the 
 same influence over her pupils as Miss Herbert. 
 
 " Because I love them all so very dearly ; 
 that is the only reason I know of," answered 
 Caroline. " But come, Gerald, I am curious 
 to witness the success of your mysterious ope- 
 rations."
 
 SAND DRAWINGS. 133 
 
 "You can hardly judge as yet," observed 
 Gerald, as he removed the screen which had 
 concealed his work, and displayed to view a 
 small but beautifully colored portion of a turret. 
 
 " How admirably well done !" cried Caro- 
 line, as she seized a paint-brush and a second 
 drawing. "What can be wrong with this 
 paper ?" she exclaimed a moment afterwards ; 
 " the particles of sand will not adhere." 
 
 " Try the effect of a drop or two of gum- 
 arabic,** said Gerald, as he pointed to the vial 
 which his sister had in her hurry overlooked. 
 
 " Oh ! to be sure, I entirely forgot," said 
 Caroline, laughing ; " see," she continued, " it 
 does nicely now, although my tree is not to be 
 compared with your tower, Gerald." 
 
 " Yes indeed, it is far better done," replied 
 Gerald in a decided tone ; " and yet that green 
 sand is so coarse as to be almost worthless, 
 while your paper also is quite inferior to mine. 
 But you really must buy some card-board im 
 mediately, Carrie, and then, whenever you can 
 find leisure, reduce a number of these sketches 
 to a smaller size." 
 
 " But, my dear children," observed Mrs. 
 
 Herbert, " there is one point which you have 
 
 not considered : what use can be made of those 
 
 bright red and yellow tints, which are, in my 
 
 12
 
 134: SAND DRAWINGS. 
 
 opinion, the most beautiful of all ? You can 
 only introduce the more sombre hues, such as 
 green, and brown, and pale blue, and gray, in- 
 to the style of work that you contemplate." 
 
 " I had not forgotten that, mamma," said Ger- 
 ald ; " of course we cannot paint our castles crim- 
 son, nor these English forests of a glowing pur- 
 ple ; though you would not think the latter no- 
 tion extravagant, could you but wander through 
 the American autumnal woods : still, I have a 
 plan for those as well ; only, as it is not yet 
 matured in my own mind, I had not intended 
 naming it just now to you and Caroline. My 
 idea was, simply to arrange the various speci- 
 mens of sand in glass bottles of an ornamental 
 kind ; but Jioio, I cannot yet exactly tell. I will 
 think the matter over, and try experiments 
 upon the voyage, and in the mean while, Carrie 
 and the children are abundantly supplied with 
 occupation." 
 
 " Yes, that is very certain," answered Caro- 
 line, " and I hope to prove to you, at your next 
 home-coming, that we have all been wonder- 
 fully diligent." 
 
 " I give you fair warning that I shall expect 
 a dozen pictures, exquisitely colored and en- 
 riched with splendid illuminations, to present 
 to Mrs. Mortimer, in return for her beautiful
 
 SAND DRAWINGS. 135 
 
 mosses," replied Gerald, mischievously, as hav- 
 ing, with commendable neatness, restored all 
 the articles they had been using to their proper 
 places, he lighted a candle and bade his mother 
 and sister good-night, declaring that the high 
 wind on the cliffs had made him sleepy. Mrs. 
 Herbert followed directly afterwards ; and Car- 
 oline only waited to read a chapter from the 
 New Testament, in order to banish, if possible, 
 all thoughts of earth before she also retired to 
 her peaceful slumbers. 
 
 It was a hard trial to this united family, 
 when the beloved eldest son and brother was 
 again called upon to leave them. This time 
 it was hoped the separation would not much 
 exceed a year, and Gerald had the satisfaction, 
 before he said farewell to England, of feeling 
 that his efforts had already been crowned with 
 a more abundant success than he had ventured, 
 in his most sanguine moments, to anticipate. 
 
 The children had entered with delight into 
 his scheme, and were quite proud at the thought 
 of being one day able to present their parents 
 with a little sum of their own earning. The 
 young ladies, upon whose skill he so largely 
 counted, had cordially responded to his call, 
 and also expressed their willingness to for- 
 ward any plan which their friends at White-
 
 136 SAND DRAWINGS. 
 
 thorn might approve ; while the labors of his 
 darling sister had so wonderfully prospered, 
 that she contemplated forming her class with- 
 out delay, and there really seemed every prob- 
 ability that the occupation would, in due course 
 of time, become as lucrative as it had already 
 proved agreeable. Mr. Green had succeeded in 
 disposing of six very small unornamented draw- 
 ings, at the price of two shillings each. The 
 children might reasonably be expected soon to 
 do as well, and Gerald felt convinced that his 
 sister's more ambitious attempts would meet 
 with a proportionate reward. 
 
 It was on the morning of a spring-like day 
 in February that Caroline Herbert entered the 
 sunny school-room, where she had engaged to 
 meet her drawing-class, for the first time. 
 Twenty little boys and girls were assembled 
 there in anxious expectation of her arrival, 
 and as the exact method had been previously 
 explained to them, no further instruction w r as 
 at that moment requisite. Caroline, having 
 seen each child comfortably established at a 
 separate desk and provided with an easy copy, 
 seated herself upon a high-backed chair, which 
 occupied a raised platform in the centre of the 
 room, and prepared to read aloud an enter- 
 taining story having first pleasantly informed
 
 SAND DRAWINGS. 137 
 
 the children that she should be quite ready to 
 attend to any of them whenever they required 
 her assistance. 
 
 The result of their hour's industry was satis- 
 factory, upon the whole. Several of the pu- 
 pils, it was evident, were by nature gifted with 
 a correct eye, and a taste which only stood in 
 need of cultivation. Others had displayed less 
 facility in acquiring the art, but it was hoped 
 that they would, by the aid of perseverance, 
 become equally skilful in the end. One or 
 two again had failed completely, but Caroline 
 would not suffer even them to be discouraged. 
 They had all been diligent, and done their 
 best, she said ; in the course of a few weeks, 
 they would, she had no doubt, be quite sur- 
 prised to note the progress they had made ; 
 and although some among them might sur- 
 pass the rest, she sincerely trusted that this 
 would cause no feeling of unkindness to exist 
 on either side. All would be surely able to ac- 
 complish something ; and where persons were 
 working with one common object namely, 
 from a desire to improve the talents commit- 
 ted to their charge, and to promote the happi 
 ness and prosperity of those who were endeared 
 to them by the ties of blood and kindred there 
 should be unity of action, combined with that
 
 138 SAND DRAWINGS. 
 
 tender and loving sympathy which so effectu- 
 ally serves to cheer and lighten the hardest 
 toils of life. 
 
 The children listened with attention and re- 
 spect to the precepts of their beloved yonng 
 teacher, and certain it is, that Caroline never 
 had the least occasion to complain of dissen- 
 sions or jealousies in the little circle over which 
 she presided. 
 
 Time rolled away. It was already eighteen 
 months since the commencement of the under- 
 taking, and now the demand for sand drawings 
 was so great, that the combined exertions of 
 Caroline Herbert and several other ladies to- 
 gether with the band of children, whose num- 
 ber had increased to thirty were found quite 
 inadequate to meet it. Nearly all the book- 
 sellers throughout the island were provided 
 with specimens of the ingenious art,, and the 
 remuneration was so ample that the villagers 
 of Whitethorn were enabled to surround them- 
 selves with many household comforts, to which 
 they had before been strangers. Caroline la- 
 bored unremittingly, and she was warmly 
 seconded by Ida, who, notwithstanding her 
 extreme youth, had proved an invaluable as- 
 sistant. The twelve views, which Gerald had 
 playfully demanded, were all complete, and
 
 SAND DRAWINGS. 139 
 
 carefully packed in a small box, composed of 
 the celebrated Mosaic ware from Tunbridge 
 "Wells every thing was in a due state of prep- 
 aration for the return of the yonng sailor, who 
 was now almost hourly expected. 
 
 He came in the warm, bright days of early 
 June. Joy once more reigned supreme in the 
 sweet home of Whitethorn Lodge, and heart- 
 felt were the greetings which the wanderer re- 
 ceived from each one of the inhabitants of his 
 native village. Directly after breakfast, on 
 the morning that succeeded his arrival, Caro- 
 line related to her brother all those minute 
 details connected with his favorite scheme, 
 which it had not been possible to communi- 
 cate by letter, and at the same time pre- 
 sented him with the choice collection intended 
 for her American friend, every picture of 
 which surpassed in truth of coloring and 
 delicacy of execution any thing she had be- 
 fore achieved. 
 
 Gerald was equally astonished and delighted, 
 but he would not for an instant take the slight- 
 est credit to himself. It was no hard matter 
 to form plans, he said ; the real difficulty was 
 to meet with persons who were endowed with 
 sufficient energy and resolution to carry them 
 into effect. Caroline's success was almost
 
 140 SAND DRAWINGS. 
 
 unexampled, but he also had endeavored not 
 to be quite idle ; and so saying, Gerald un- 
 rolled a parcel that he had been holding in 
 his hand, and held up a pair of tiny bottles of 
 cut glass, filled with a variety of the most bril- 
 liant sands, arranged in fanciful and graceful 
 arabesques. 
 
 " The result of some hard work, Carrie," he 
 observed, in reply to his sister's exclamation of 
 pleasure and surprise. " They are the most 
 troublesome affairs imaginable, and at one 
 time I was vastly inclined to give the matter 
 up ; however I thought better of it, as you 
 perceive. These vases are designed for little 
 Ida ; .will you place them, for me, on her dress- 
 ing-table?" 
 
 " Yes ; that I will," said Caroline as she 
 lifted the pretty ornaments from the mantel- 
 piece, and prepared to leave the room. 
 
 " Stay ; here is a present for you, Carrie 
 dear," continued Gerald, as he pointed to a 
 larger package that had lain unnoticed on 
 the sofa. 
 
 Caroline eagerly removed the folds of silver 
 paper in which it was enveloped, and the sight 
 which then met her eyes rendered her, for sev- 
 eral seconds, speechless with admiration and 
 delight.
 
 SAND DRAWINGS. 141 
 
 Within a framework of the more gorgeous 
 coloring, such as had been contained in Ida's 
 vases, were set two small and exquisitely fin- 
 ished pictures : the one representing the old 
 gray parish church ; the other, that beloved 
 home to which the heart of the young exile 
 had so often and so fondly turned, in distant 
 lands. 
 
 " O Gerald !" exclaimed Caroline, as soon 
 as her excitement could find vent in words, 
 " I no longer marvel that you were willing to 
 allow us all the credit of the sand drawings, 
 since your own performances have so effectu- 
 ally eclipsed their merit ; but pray explain to 
 me the means by which you have done such 
 wonders." 
 
 " That is a profound secret for the present," 
 replied Gerald, with an air of mystery. " You 
 have all as much upon your hands as you can 
 well accomplish, without attempting any thing 
 beyond; for I cannot tell you, Carrie, how 
 much I admire your branch of industry, which 
 is far better suited to a lady's hand than mine ; 
 but now do you and Ida come with me to the 
 study, for there is something there that I should 
 like to show you." 
 
 Both children were summoned from the 
 nursery, and Mrs. Herbert entering at that
 
 142 SAND DRAWINGS. 
 
 moment, they all proceeded together to the 
 library, where upon the table were ranged 
 two dozen volumes, nicely bound ; they were 
 all numbered, and upon the back of each 
 was inscribed, in small gilt letters " Na- 
 tional School Library : Whitethorn, Isle of 
 Wight." 
 
 " Dear Gerald !" began Caroline, " how 
 kind you are ; nothing that you could possibly 
 have brought would have afforded me the 
 same amount of pleasure." 
 
 " I felt certain of it, dearest sister ; I had so 
 often heard you sigh for a juvenile library, 
 belonging to the parish, that I at once resolved 
 upon applying the proceeds derived from the 
 sale of a number of my sand bottles to this 
 purpose, instead of purchasing for you a set 
 of splendid engravings, for which I had a 
 special fancy. These are yours and Ida's," he 
 continued, looking with affection on the sweet 
 countenance of his youngest sister, which was 
 at that moment flushed and sparkling with 
 animated interest, as she bent over a page, so 
 much absorbed as to be almost unconscious of 
 what was taking place around her. 
 
 " And mine too, Gerald," expostulated Mas- 
 ter Edward, in an injured tone, as he threw 
 aside a volume, with an air of disapprobation,
 
 SAND DRAWINGS. 143 
 
 upon discovering that it contained no other 
 picture than a frontispiece. 
 
 " Yes, yours too, Eddie, by all means," re- 
 turned Gerald, stooping to caress the child; 
 " but you shall come with me to my own room 
 presently, and we shall see if there is not some- 
 thing prettier in the trunk." 
 
 " "Well, then, I will wait up-stairs till you are 
 ready, only please make haste," cried Edward, 
 as he darted joyfully from the room. 
 
 " What an admirable collection !" observed 
 Mrs. Herbert ; " my dear boy, how can you 
 have contrived to choose so well ?" 
 
 " These are the very works that of all others 
 I should have selected," continued Caroline, 
 who had been attentively examining the titles. 
 
 Gerald smiled. " You think that a singular 
 coincidence, no doubt, and are a little disposed 
 to regard me as a magician, Carrie ; so, for the 
 sake of my reputation, I must let you into the 
 secret. Upon the very day before leaving 
 home, as I was searching in a closet, where I 
 had stowed away some lumps of sand, I 
 chanced to remark a slip of paper in your 
 handwriting, which contained a list of chil- 
 dren's books that you were anxious to procure, 
 and so I just took the liberty of copying it 
 out."
 
 144 SAND DRAWINGS. 
 
 "I recollect that catalogue distinctly," re- 
 joined Caroline, "for I had dropped it in that 
 cupboard by mistake, and had afterwards no 
 small trouble in discovering its whereabouts. 
 It still lies in my writing-desk, but I have 
 scarcely had time even to think of it since 
 then." 
 
 " I took care to ascertain by letter that you 
 had not procured the volumes," replied Gerald ; 
 " and just before we sailed for home, I wrote 
 to Mrs. Clarke, at London, inclosing the list, 
 and requesting that she would have the par- 
 cel ready upon my arrival, so that I might 
 call for it at her house as I passed through 
 town." 
 
 " I must say she has executed your commis- 
 sion faithfully," remarked Mrs. Herbert. 
 
 "Yes, she has been most kind," said Ger- 
 ald ; " but now I must run away, for it will 
 not do to tax poor little Eddie's patience any 
 longer." 
 
 The calm sunset glory of that evening found 
 Caroline and Gerald once more amid the gor- 
 geous scenery of the " Rainbow Cliffs." They 
 were both very silent and disposed to medita- 
 tion, for their hearts were overflowing with 
 gratitude and joy as they recalled their former 
 conversation on this spot, and the unlocked-
 
 SAND DRAWINGS. 145 
 
 for triumpli with which God had blessed their 
 simple but most earnest-minded endeavors to 
 do good. They stood alone upon the margin 
 of the slumbering sea, which lay in glassy 
 stillness, reflecting the gold and purple clouds 
 in its mysterious depths. 
 
 " Something has been accomplished since we 
 were here last, Carrie," observed Gerald, his 
 voice breaking in after a long pause upon the 
 profound hush of nature ; " but, alas ! how very 
 much remains yet to be done." 
 
 " Then let that thought stimulate us to 
 renewed exertion, dearest brother," rejoined 
 Caroline, "for soon approach the shadows of 
 that night wherein none may labor more." 
 
 Gerald did not answer, and the youthful 
 pair stood gazing forth with awe upon the 
 glorious scene. They lingered until the last 
 dying flush of day had faded from the ra- 
 diant heavens, and the gentle solemnity of 
 an English twilight spread its veil over the 
 shadowy earth. 
 
 " Yon mantling cloud has hid from sight 
 The last faint pulse of quivering light," 
 
 said Gerald, speaking in the words of a favorite 
 poet.
 
 14G SAND DRAWINGS. 
 
 "Yes," resumed Caroline, continuing the 
 train of thought expressed in the concluding 
 stanzas of the same sweet strain, " and thus 
 may our spirits' light at length be merged in 
 the full brightness of eternal love."
 
 A MOORLAND RAMBLE. 
 
 " The lark has her gay song begun ; 
 
 She leaves her grassy nest, 
 And soars till the UNRISEN SUN 
 
 Gleams on her speckled breast. 
 Now let me leave my restless bed, 
 And o'er the spangled uplands tread ; 
 
 Till on the mountain's summit gray, 
 I sit me down, and mark the glorious dawn of day." 
 HENBT KIHKE WHITE. 
 
 TIRING the greater part of my 
 
 residence at B , I was in the 
 
 habit of indulging in long ram- 
 bles among the lower ranges of 
 the grand, solitary downs, and 
 a i on g the picturesque and rock- 
 bound coast ; visiting every spot which natural 
 beauty, or the spell of association with the far 
 past rendered interesting, until at length each 
 beetling cliff, and lowly farm-house, and an- 
 cient parish church became almost as well- 
 known to me as to the native inhabitants of 
 the district.
 
 148 A MOORLAND KAMBLE. 
 
 In all my wanderings, however, I had not 
 once ventured upon an EARLY walk. The 
 delicious purity and freshness of the dewy 
 dawn were joys of whose existence I had no 
 personal experience. I had been an invalid 
 from childhood ; and although equal at times 
 to a considerable amount of exertion and fa- 
 tigue, I was yet subject to repeated and severe 
 attacks of illness, which rendered a certain 
 degree of attention to my health quite indis- 
 pensable. 
 
 It happened one morning towards the end 
 of May, that I awoke at daybreak from a re- 
 freshing sleep, feeling so well and strong, and 
 so free from the oppressive headache to which 
 I was usually liable at that hour, that I was 
 seized with a sudden and irresistible desire to 
 watch the glories of the rising sun from the 
 highest peak of the Dunnose, or Dark-Head 
 Cliffs. I should have ample time, for the 
 breakfast hour was late, owing to the pressing 
 occupations of several members of the family, 
 and also from kindly consideration for the 
 comfort of their invalid guest ; so, quickly 
 springing out of bed, I wrote a hurried note 
 explaining the reason of my unwonted absence 
 at that hour, lest any of my friends should 
 seek me in my chamber, and be alarmed at
 
 A MOORLAND RAMBLE. 149 
 
 my mysterious disappearance. I folded it and 
 placed it on the dressing-table ; and then slip- 
 ping a couple of biscuits into my pocket, and 
 taking a small Church Service in my hand, I 
 softly unclosed the door, and gliding noise- 
 lessly down the wide staircase and across the 
 hall, I soon emerged upon the sloping velvet 
 lawn, and stood there gazing on the faint rosy 
 flush which just began to tinge the eastern 
 sky, and inhaling with delight the sweet per- 
 fume of the violets and lilies of the valley, 
 which bloomed in rich profusion beneath the 
 shelter of the tall range of wooded cliffs that 
 formed the boundary of my friend's beautiful 
 pleasure-ground. The view I thence com- 
 manded of the distant ocean was peculiarly 
 magnificent ; and I resolved, without further 
 loss of time, to proceed to the enjoyment of 
 my contemplated ramble along the summit of 
 the overhanging crags. 
 
 Scarcely, however, had I reached the village, 
 ere I began to fear that I should be disap- 
 pointed of my promised pleasure. The tide 
 just then chanced to be very. low; therefore, of 
 course, the aspect of the shore would be much 
 less inviting ; and I tried to determine in which 
 direction I should bend my steps. 
 
 While still endeavoring to decide this per-
 
 150 A MOORLAND RAMBLE. 
 
 plexing question, I happened to raise my 
 eyes towards the downs. They were looming 
 grandly up into the amber sky through their 
 silvery veil of mist, and I felt strongly tempted 
 to explore their hitherto unseen recesses. 
 
 This noble chain rises to the height of full 
 eight hundred feet ; and although, to a person 
 standing at its base, the ascent might appear 
 gentle and easy in the extreme, yet I had been 
 assured that it was in reality very steep, and 
 at certain points even precipitous ; neverthe- 
 less, I felt resolved to try, for there was some- 
 thing so strangely exhilarating in the fresh 
 morning air that for the moment I hardly real- 
 ized the possibility of exerting myself beyond 
 my strength. 
 
 Having proceeded for a short distance along 
 the high-road, I presently struck into a foot- 
 path, which led across a grassy meadow to the 
 very base of the hills. 
 
 Choosing a point which, to my inexperienced 
 eye, seemed practicable, I vigorously began 
 the ascent ; but loss of breath, combined with 
 an overpowering sense of giddiness, speedily 
 compelled me to desist. Just as I had regained 
 the level ground, an old country-woman passed 
 that way. She looked surprised when I in- 
 quired whether there was no possibility of
 
 A MOORLAND RAMBLE. 151 
 
 reaching the summit of the hills ; but replied, 
 without a moment's hesitation, " Sure, yes, 
 
 ma'am, well enough, if you go on to Y , 
 
 and there take the road that leads up past the 
 quarry ; you will find it quite low, and easy- 
 like, compared with this." 
 
 Thanking the good cottager for her infor- 
 mation, I proceeded to act on her advice. The 
 quarry of which she had spoken was not far 
 distant ; and upon reaching it, I acknowledged 
 the wisdom of the counsel which had been 
 afforded me. The ascent was less abrupt, and 
 I saw it would be in my power to gain the 
 summit of one of the lower peaks, whence I 
 might attain, without much trouble, the con- 
 necting range, and pursue my walk at pleasure 
 
 in the direction of St. Lawrence, or of B . 
 
 The path was safe, although rather slippery ; 
 so, clinging for support to the straggling gorse 
 and fragments of rock which lay on either 
 side, I at length realized the object of my wish, 
 and stood upon the highest point, quite faint 
 and breathless, but not a little gratified with 
 the success of my undertaking. 
 
 Unfortunately I was just too late to catch 
 the first glorious burst of sunshine on the 
 mountain's brow, but the prospect upon which 
 I gazed left small room for regret. Far, far, in
 
 152 A MOORLAND RAMBLE. 
 
 the valley at my feet, lay the pleasant little 
 
 town of V ; its white dwellings, built upon 
 
 a succession of terraces, rising upwards from 
 the water's edge, and the tall spire of its beau- 
 tiful church towering guardian-like above all. 
 Beyond stretched the boundless ocean its vast 
 expanse unbroken save by one white sail, 
 which glided dream-like on the far verge of 
 the horizon ; while the glad spring sunshine 
 poured a flood of beauty over earth, and sea, 
 and sky. I stood long contemplating this 
 lovely scene, and listening to the thrilling gush 
 of melody which burst almost simultaneously 
 from the thousand dwellers of the moors. The 
 aspect of these lofty downs was wholly unlike 
 what I had pictured to myself : instead of the 
 carpet of smooth emerald turf, which covered 
 their steep sides, I beheld, to my surprise, 
 a wild and most romantic moorland tract, 
 apparently extending inland for many miles. 
 It was a spot such as I had often read of, 
 but never seen till then ; and I straightway 
 planned another expedition, when I should be 
 able to explore this new-found region more at 
 leisure. 
 
 Upon looking at my watch, I saw that full 
 two hours yet remained at my disposal ; and 
 anxious to profit by them to the uttermost, I
 
 A MOORLAND RAMBLE. 153 
 
 turned inland, and commenced striking deep 
 across the plain. 
 
 There was something strangely fascinating 
 in the character of the scenery, to which the 
 pure brightness of the morning lent a smile 
 of gladness, despite its extreme loneliness and 
 desolation. I have since then wandered often 
 on those moors ; in winter, when their brown 
 expanse was draped with a light snowy mantle, 
 as rare as it was short-lived in that genial 
 clime ; and on autumn days, when the whole 
 undulating surface was dark with the rich 
 purple bloom of the wild heather, the deep 
 subdued coloring of which shed an air of soft, 
 sad beauty over all the landscape. 
 
 But melancholy was unthought of in this 
 merry month of May, when the long sweep of 
 moorland was literally dazzling with the bright 
 golden blossoms of the gorse, and the air 
 seemed laden with its aromatic odor. I roamed 
 on and on amid the flowery waste, until com- 
 pelled by weariness to pause. A charming 
 resting-place was close at hand : it was a tall 
 rock, adorned with many-tinted lichens, near 
 which sparkled a clear spring ; and seating 
 myself beneath its friendly shadow, I prepared 
 to read the Morning Service of the Church. I 
 felt peculiarly able at that moment to realize
 
 154 A MODEL AND RAMBLE. 
 
 the soothing and elevating power of our most 
 beautiful Liturgy ; and, in particular, I loved 
 to think upon the countless multitudes through- 
 out the world with whom I might ever join in 
 spirit in these daily prayers, which, as it has 
 been truly said, " form an indissoluble bond of 
 union to those who, although separated by dis- 
 tance, are yet ONE in affection, and faith, and 
 hope." A sense of calmness and repose stole 
 over me, as having concluded with the prayer 
 for Christ's Church Militant, I closed the book ; 
 and leaning back upon the mossed, gray rock, 
 I fell into a deep and tranquil slumber. 
 
 Exhausted from fatigue and want of food, I 
 slept quietly lor several hours ; and when I at 
 length awoke, I found, to my dismay, that it 
 was past noon. "What anxiety must not my 
 friends have suffered ! In an instant I forgot 
 my weakness; and springing from the rocky 
 seat, I eagerly set out upon my homeward 
 walk. 
 
 But now a new and unexpected difficulty 
 presented itself. I was utterly at a loss which 
 way to turn ; I tried to remember from which 
 side I had approached the rock, but my recol- 
 lections were shadowy and indistinct. All 
 around was one unbroken moorland waste, 
 rich in unnumbered beauties, but with nothing
 
 A MOOULAXI) RAMBLE. 155 
 
 to afford the slightest indication of the course 
 I should pursue ; as to my ever-faithful guide, 
 the ocean, of that I had long since lost sight. 
 
 When the first emotions of alarm, or, per- 
 haps, I should more correctly say vexation, 
 had subsided, I began to consider what had 
 best be done. One thing, at all events, was 
 certain : I must endeavor to recruit my 
 strength. Most providentially the means for 
 doing so were within my reach ; and so, before 
 proceeding further, I made a hasty, and I must 
 own, enjoyable meal of my two hard biscuits, 
 with the addition of a refreshing draught from 
 the pure mountain-spring. When I had fin- 
 ished, I felt much revived, and more inclined 
 than before to set out with spirit upon my 
 travels. 
 
 I was by no means seriously uneasy ; I be 
 lieved the moors to be of comparatively small 
 extent ; and fancied that, by keeping steadily 
 in any one direction, I should once more have 
 the ocean as a way-mark. With a view ot 
 acting upon this assurance, I went resolutely 
 onward ; and, at the end of an hour's walk, I 
 found myself approaching the verge of an ex- 
 tended line of cliffs, overlooking a rich and 
 fertile country, while the blue ocean sparkled 
 in the distance. I rejoiced sincerely at the
 
 156 A MOOKLAXD RAMBLE. 
 
 welcome sight ; but my happiness was of short 
 duration, for, far as eye could reach on either 
 hand, the high, green hills rose almost perpen- 
 dicularly from the valley, or stretched away 
 in long, steep slopes as slippery as glass. It 
 would be folly to dream of attempting the 
 descent ; and I went on and on, vainly seeking 
 for some point which should present a less ap- 
 palling aspect. At last I imagined this to be 
 attained, and cautiously placed my foot upon 
 the slope ; but at the very outset I completely 
 lost my balance, and should infallibly have 
 been carried down the precipice but for the 
 energy with which I grasped a projecting rock, 
 which enabled me to regain, although not with- 
 out difficulty, my former station. 
 
 But what now should I do ? "Was it not 
 possible that for me, at least, the cliffs were 
 quite unscalable except at that one point to 
 which I had been directed in the morning ; 
 and if so, how was I to find my way there 
 again ? I had not the faintest notion of my 
 whereabouts ; the lovely scene on which I 
 gazed was all unknown to me ; it might, for 
 aught I could tell to the contrary, be miles 
 
 and miles from B , by any other road than 
 
 this upon which I had so rashly ventured ; 
 and at this thought, I for the first time fully
 
 A MOORLAND RAMBLE. 157 
 
 realized the perplexity in which 1 was in- 
 volved. A flock of sheep tranquilly grazing 
 on the mountain's side, apparently alarmed by 
 the noise occasioned by some falling stone, 
 bounded lightly down the precipitous cliff, 
 and soon were out of sight, although the sil- 
 very music of the bells they bore could still 
 be distinctly heard. How I sighed for the 
 power with which they were gifted ! but was 
 not I, in reality, as secure from harm ? Yes, 
 of this blessed truth I felt assured ; and I gazed 
 with reverence and love into the deep-blue 
 sky, and prayed fervently that I might be per- 
 mitted to regain my home. 
 
 For now I could no longer conceal from my- 
 self the fact, that there was some reason for 
 anxiety. The downs were wild, and not often 
 visited ; no one might chance to pass that way 
 for days ; and what if I should continue to 
 roam vainly over them, unable to regain the 
 quarry path? My friends possessed no clue 
 by which to trace me through my wanderings, 
 for in my hurried note I had merely stated my 
 intention of walking towards Dunnose; and 
 how could they, knowing as they did my state 
 of health, imagine for an instant that I should 
 have ventured upon so arduous an under- 
 taking ? 
 
 14
 
 158 A MOORLAND RAMBLE. 
 
 Perhaps the weakness and fatigue under 
 which I labored may have caused me to exag- 
 gerate my danger : on a sudden, my morning's 
 interview with the old cottager rushed across 
 my memory, succeeded by a thrill of gratitude. 
 I had seen her once before, and knew that she 
 
 belonged to B , and therefore, of course, 
 
 was personally known to my friends. Doubt- 
 less, should inquiries be made among the vil- 
 lagers, she would not fail to relate the circum- 
 stances attendant upon our meeting, and thus 
 the downs would be searched in every direction 
 without loss of time. 
 
 Not a little cheered by this reflection, I 
 speedily resolved to make a fresh experiment ; 
 I would once more turn inland, and courage- 
 ously pursue my way in a straight line, in the 
 hope of reaching the opposite extremity of the 
 moors. 
 
 This I did accordingly ; and, after walking 
 for about two miles, I was rejoiced by observ- 
 ing a very narrow footpath, winding in an east- 
 erly direction. Unhesitatingly I followed in 
 the course thus indicated, but great was my 
 surprise when, at the end of half an hour, I 
 came upon a broad track of cart-wheels, dis- 
 tinctly marked upon the turf. How any ve- 
 hicle could possibly attain these heights, was a
 
 A MOORLAND BAMBLE. 159 
 
 mystery which I tried in vain to solve. One 
 tiling, at all events, was certain: there must 
 be some manner of avoiding those formidable 
 precipices, and with a feeling of relief I still 
 went on. 
 
 I had not proceeded far before the sound of 
 several voices met my ear. They were soft, 
 clear, ringing tones, which awoke the echoes 
 of the lonely moor ; I listened intently to dis- 
 cover whence they came, and the next mo- 
 ment, upon rounding an abruptly-rising knoll, 
 a pleasing picture was presented to my view. 
 
 Before me, in the centre of an open space of 
 greensward, was placed the picturesque, old- 
 fashioned cart, by means of which I had been 
 guided to the spot. It was more than half 
 filled with lumps of chalk, and at a little dis- 
 tance stood the patient donkey that had drawn 
 it thither, seemingly well occupied with a bed 
 of thistles. Towards the left the ground sank 
 into a sort of hollow, whence the merry sounds 
 which had at first attracted me, still issued. I 
 went up gently, and looked over the verge ; it 
 was an extensive chalk-pit, not deep by any 
 means, and really seeming as sheltered and in- 
 viting a nook as heart could wish such, at 
 least, was evidently the opinion of its present 
 occupants.
 
 160 A MOORLAND RAMBLE. 
 
 The party consisted of a man of middle age 
 and pleasing countenance, surrounded by a 
 group of children, five in number, the eldest 
 not exceeding thirteen years, the youngest be- 
 tween three and four. They were seated in a 
 circle, apparently engaged in discussing the 
 contents of a luncheon-basket, so that my pres- 
 ence was unobserved at first ; but when I ad- 
 dressed the honest laborer, and civilly inquired 
 the way to B , he started to his feet, utter- 
 ing an exclamation of surprise at the sight of a 
 lady in that solitary spot. 
 
 " To B , ma'am," he replied, in answer 
 
 to my question ; "it is full two miles from here 
 at least by the nearest road which you could 
 travel, for I think it would hardly do for you 
 to try the path among the cliffs ; it is difficult 
 to find for those who do not know the country 
 well, and a false step might easily carry one 
 down a precipice." 
 
 " Thank you ; I am very willing to take the 
 longer way," I said, feeling most truly grateful 
 to learn that I was within a dozen miles of 
 
 B ; and I related to my new acquaintance 
 
 the story of my misadventures. 
 
 "Rambling about, quite lost among the 
 downs, since sunrise," he exclaimed, rising ae 
 he spoke, and coming up to where I stood
 
 A MOORLAND RAMBLE. 161 
 
 " and I'll engage now yon feel quite tired-like, 
 and ready to drop, ma'am," he added, in a tone 
 of kindness. 
 
 The children also scrambled from their re- 
 treat, and came clustering round us, eyeing 
 the wearied stranger-lady with looks of curios- 
 ity and interest. 
 
 "Yes, I am indeed tired," I replied, in an- 
 swer to his observation ; " but my chief trouble 
 is about my friends, who must, I fear, have 
 been seriously anxious on my account." 
 
 " Might I ask at which house at B you 
 
 are staying, ma'am ?" he inquired. 
 
 A low murmur passed among the children 
 as I gave the name. 
 
 "At ," rejoined their father quickly. 
 
 " I was formerly the gardener there, and so I 
 am well acquainted with the family. Several 
 of my children, too, belonged in those days to 
 the parish school ; and you know, ma'am, what 
 a kind interest the ladies take in the welfare ot 
 the little pupils." 
 
 Before I had time to answer, the second boy, 
 a fine active-looking child of twelve, respect- 
 fully requested leave to go at once by the 
 
 shortest path to B , and assure the ladies 
 
 that their guest was safe, and would soon be 
 
 with them. 
 
 140
 
 162 A MODEL AND E AMBLE. 
 
 "Yes, that will be best," the father said; 
 and then turning to me, he added, " if you will 
 allow me, ma'am, to send my little girl to put 
 you on the right track, I shall be much easier 
 in my mind." 
 
 I hastily interposed at this, observing that I 
 could not bear to be the cause of so much in- 
 convenience; but while I was yet speaking, 
 the boy had set off at full speed across the 
 heath ; and the little maiden timidly, but 
 eagerly assured me, that she should like, of all 
 things, to go with me :. " I often walk much 
 farther," she continued ; " and we drove here 
 in the cart this morning, so that I have had 
 nothing to tire me to-day." 
 
 " The cart," I said, my attention being once 
 more recalled to what had from the first so 
 strongly excited my curiosity : " pray tell me 
 how you can contrive to bring a cart up here 
 among these hills ?" 
 
 The explanation of a circumstance which 
 had so much perplexed me proved extremely 
 simple. At the distance of a few miles from 
 the water the moors declined into a gentle 
 slope, and gradually became almost level. 
 " His home," the man continued, " was in an 
 inland hamlet, where he was in the employ- 
 ment of a wealthy farmer, who frequently de-
 
 A MOORLAND RAMBLE. 163 
 
 spatched his laborers to the moor in search 
 of chalk, a substance much in use for the 
 purpose of fertilizing the ground. This was," 
 he assured me, " a great pleasure to the chil- 
 dren, who were always permitted to accom- 
 pany him whenever his expedition chanced 
 to fall upon their holiday, as in the present 
 instance." 
 
 I thanked the friendly peasant for this in- 
 formation ; and then turning to his little 
 daughter, I signified my readiness to go on at 
 once, if she still felt inclined to bear me com- 
 pany. She smilingly assented to my proposal ; 
 but once more the laborer detained us, by say- 
 ing in a respectful tone : 
 
 "I hope, ma'am, you will not think it a 
 liberty if I offer you a piece of bread and 
 cheese. You have something of a walk be- 
 fore you ; and I know that after taking food, 
 you would feel stronger, for, indeed, you look 
 sadly pale and weak." 
 
 I gratefully accepted this kind offer ; for, 
 having eaten nothing all that day except my 
 two hard biscuits, I stood much in need of 
 some refreshment. Seating myself, therefore, 
 in a grassy hollow, I was soon bountifully sup- 
 plied with sweet, fresh, home-made bread, to- 
 gether with a slice of delicate white cheese,
 
 164: A MOORLAND EAMBLE. 
 
 and a small bunch of early radishes, the very 
 best, I fancied, that were ever grown. 
 
 " They are Harry's," observed the peasant, 
 in answer to my commendation ; " he has been 
 allowed to cultivate a border in the kitchen- 
 garden, and he is proud enough of those 
 radishes, I'll engage." 
 
 "He has reason to be so," I replied ; "but 
 is Harry the boy who has so obligingly gone 
 for me to B ?" 
 
 " Yes, ma'am, the very same ; he is a good 
 lad, is my Harry. One day last year I gave 
 him the finest bush of gooseberries in the gar- 
 den as a reward for industry ; and would you 
 belieye that he scarcely tasted one himself, but 
 kept the greater part to give to a sick neigh- 
 bor, and the rest for his two younger sisters ?" 
 
 I was much pleased with this narrative ; for 
 there are few traits of character more lovely 
 to behold than unselfishness in early youth, 
 and I had learned to know that it can never 
 be attained without the aid of high religious 
 principle. There was a certain tone pervad- 
 ing all the words and actions of the laborer's 
 family, which served to convince me that this 
 was peculiarly with them a guiding influence. 
 
 After a few parting words I took my leave, 
 and set out, accompanied by my little guide.
 
 A MOORLAND KAMBLE. 165 
 
 By the way I entered into conversation with 
 the child, and her gentle and intelligent replies 
 tended strongly to confirm my previous in> 
 pressions. She appeared much attached to 
 33 , her former home ; and dwelt particu- 
 larly upon the school, and the many proofs of 
 affectionate interest, which the children were 
 constantly accustomed to receive from the 
 ladies of the parish, with most of whom I was 
 intimately acquainted. 
 
 "Should you like to live again at B ?" 
 
 I asked. 
 
 "I am quite happy where we are staying 
 now," she answered in a cheerful voice, " ex- 
 cept that I can seldom see the ladies and my 
 little playmates," she added, while her bright 
 face slightly clouded. 
 
 I was fortunately well qualified to give a 
 full account of all her friends ; for I often vis- 
 ited the parish school, and nearly all of the 
 pupils were known to me, at least by name. 
 The child listened with evident delight, and we 
 were both surprised when we emerged upon 
 the line of lofty cliffs, with the broad sea in 
 view. Our walk thus far had seemed very 
 short. 
 
 But I was weary, and obliged to rest ; so we 
 sat down upon a heathery knoll, overlooking
 
 166 A MOORLAND RAMBLE. 
 
 the magnificent expanse of waters. In the 
 deep, unbroken stillness that prevailed, my 
 ear was attracted by the low, faint murmur 
 of a little streamlet, one of the innumerable 
 springs which take their rise among these hills. 
 I sat and watched it gliding from point to 
 point of the precipitous rocks, and even wind- 
 ing downwards in its genial course to fertilize 
 the bosom of the vale. The sight recalled to 
 memory a sweet passage, descriptive of Eng- 
 lish pastoral scenery, which had often charmed 
 me in America; and, half unconsciously, I 
 repeated it aloud : 
 
 " Go up and watch the new-born rill 
 Just trickling from its mossy bed, 
 Streaking the heath-clad hill 
 With a bright emerald thread." 
 
 " 1 know that hymn," the child said quickly ; 
 and then coloring, she added, in confusion, 
 " but I beg pardon, ma'am, for having been so 
 rude as to interrupt you." 
 
 " Never mind about that, my dear," I an- 
 swered ; " but tell me where you learned that 
 pretty poem. I suppose, though, it was at 
 school." 
 
 " Yes ; and we used to learn a great many 
 other hymns written by the same clergyman ;
 
 A MOORLAND RAMBLE. 167 
 
 they were all beautiful, but I think sometimes 
 that this one is almost my favorite." 
 
 " I am glad to see you like hymns," I re- 
 plied ; " but why has this in particular afforded 
 you such pleasure ?" 
 
 " I was always pleased with it," she an- 
 swered, " especially with the first few verses, 
 although it was some time before I understood 
 them ; but after we had learned the whole 
 poem by heart, one of the ladies explained its 
 meaning to us, and then I liked it more than 
 ever." 
 
 " Suppose you were to repeat it to me now," 
 I said ; " and afterwards I should be glad to 
 hear all that the lady told you." 
 
 "With true respect and courtesy the girl did 
 not stay to be entreated, but instantly acceding 
 to my request, she recited in a sweet, clear 
 voice the following stanzas : 
 
 " Go up and watch the new-born rill 
 Just trickling from its mossy bed, 
 Streaking the heath-clad hill 
 With a bright emerald thread. 
 
 " Canst thou her bold career foretell, 
 
 What rocks she shall o'erleap or rend, 
 How far in ocean's swell 
 Her freshening billows send ?
 
 168 A MOORLAND KAMBLE. 
 
 "Perchance that little brook shall Jlow 
 
 The bulwark of some mighty realm, 
 Bear navies to and fro 
 
 "With inonarchs at their helm. 
 
 " Or canst thou guess, how far away 
 
 Some sister nymph beside her urn 
 Reclining night and day, 
 Mid reeds and mountain fern, 
 
 " Nurses her store with thine to blend, 
 
 "When many a moor and glen are past, 
 Then in the wide sea end 
 Their spotless lives at last. 
 
 " Even so the course ot prayer who knows ? 
 
 It springs in silence where it will, 
 Springs out of sight, and flows 
 At first a lonely rill. 
 
 " But streams shall meet it by and by 
 
 From thousand sympathetic hearts, 
 Together swelling high 
 
 Their chant of many parts." 
 
 There was a moment's silence when she had 
 concluded ; and then, fancying that I awaited 
 her promised explanation, my little friend be- 
 gan, with simple reverence : 
 
 "Miss Edith told us that we should think of 
 this in church, and try always to remember
 
 A MOORLAND RAMBLE. 169 
 
 when our beautiful prayers are offered up, that 
 there are hundreds and thousands of our fel- 
 low-Christians throughout Europe whose voices 
 are then also raised in the very same petitions. 
 She spoke, too, of the Church in America, and 
 in India, and Africa, and in all parts of the 
 known world; and then asked us whether it 
 was not pleasant to feel that, in the course of 
 a few short hours, the same high sacrifice of 
 praise and thanksgiving would ascend to God's 
 eternal throne from all the nations of the 
 earth." 
 
 " And," I inquired, " did you not agree with 
 Miss Edith, that this is a very beautiful and 
 consoling thought ?" 
 
 " Yes, I did, indeed," the child said earnestly. 
 " You know," she continued, simply, " it makes 
 so many more for one to love." 
 
 " Yes," I replied ; " when one is tempted to 
 feel sad and lonely, it is a blessing to think of 
 the vast assembly of Christ's holy Church to 
 which we belong. You are too young to real- 
 ize this fully now ; but year by year, should 
 your life be spared, you will enter into the 
 truth of this doctrine more and more. It is 
 this," I added, "which makes me so happy 
 here in England away from many of my dear- 
 est friends ; although here, too, there are some
 
 170 A MOORLAND RAMBLE. 
 
 whom I most fondly love. I am a member of 
 the Church in America." 
 
 The little girl looked up with astonishment 
 into my face, and then rapidly poured forth a 
 flood of questions relating to the far "Western 
 land, from whose bright shores I came. It was 
 delightful to gratify so intelligent an auditor ; 
 and we talked long of the new world, and its 
 countless marvels ; of its glorious mountains, 
 waterfalls, and lakes ; its waving fields of golden 
 maize ; the dazzling splendor of its autumnal 
 forests ; and the wondrous beauty of the deep- 
 blue sky, which canopies the whole. 
 
 All was full of an absorbing interest to my 
 young English listener ; and not least did she 
 love to hear of the little school in which I had 
 so often labored, and of the dear children, 
 who, although absent bodily, were ever pres- 
 ent in my heart ; more especially, when I could 
 realize that we were, indeed, brought near in 
 the sacred services of the Universal Church. 
 I told her of their Christmas-tide festivities ; 
 how they participated with English children, 
 both in the sad solemnities of Lent, and in the 
 joy of Easter; and of the pleasant holiday 
 treat which was always provided for them on 
 the anniversary of the " Holy Innocents," that 
 season which is so peculiarly calculated to
 
 A MOORLAND RAMBLE. 171 
 
 awaken warm emotions of love and self-devo- 
 tion in the young. These, and a variety of 
 other themes, furnished abundant food for con- 
 versation ; and I cannot tell how long we 
 might have lingered, had I not at length reso- 
 lutely arisen from my seat, feeling quite rested 
 and refreshed, and conscious that duty both 
 
 towards my friends at B , and towards the 
 
 father of my little guide, called on me to pro- 
 ceed without delay. As we pursued our walk, 
 I inquired of my companion whether she and 
 her brother Harry could read writing easily ; 
 and on being informed that they could, I told 
 her that I had employed some leisure hours in 
 copying into a blank-book several of those 
 sweet children's tales, which are almost always 
 to be found in our American Church journals ; 
 and that if she could obtain leave to call on 
 
 me during the week at B , I should have 
 
 great pleasure in giving her the manuscript as 
 a token of remembrance. Never was offer 
 more gratefully accepted ; and the little girl 
 promised to be with me on the following Satur- 
 day, should all be well. 
 
 We had now turned a projecting point, and 
 nearly reached the termination of our wander- 
 ings. B , in its radiant valley, lay beneath 
 
 us; the calm, pure evening sunlight, falling
 
 172 A MOORLAND RAMBLE. 
 
 gloriously upon its peaceful homes, embosomed 
 in rich masses of softly-shaded foliage, casting 
 into bold relief its many beacon crags ; bright- 
 ening even the hoary walls of its old church, 
 beside the sounding sea, whose dark, smooth 
 surface was gemmed with isles of gold and 
 silvery light, and partially illumining a pile of 
 black and rugged rocks, surmounted by an 
 antique wooden cross. 
 
 Welcome, thrice welcome, was the sight of 
 my fair English home ! And truly did I re- 
 joice in being thus permitted to regain its 
 tranquil shelter. The child led me from the 
 highest chain of downs to one still lofty, but 
 of slighter elevation. Here I affectionately 
 said good-night ; and after watching for a mo- 
 ment her rapid progress up the height, and 
 admiring the exquisite effect of one rounded 
 peak, whose summit was enveloped in a sheet 
 of rosy mist, I pursued my way along a nar- 
 row sheep-path, still winding gradually down- 
 ward, until at length I found myself beside a 
 private gate, which led from the top of the 
 wooded range, where I stood, into the garden 
 of my friends. The whole family was await- 
 ing me upon the lawn ; and ere long I had 
 changed my dress rather soiled and travel 
 stained, I own and was seated in the large.
 
 A MOORLAND RAMBLE. 173 
 
 airy dining-room, recounting my adventures, 
 and enjoying the luxury of a most refreshing 
 cup of tea, beneath the genial influence of 
 which all traces of weariness were soon dis- 
 pelled, and only pleasant ideas remained asso- 
 ciated with the recollection of my Moorland 
 Ramble.
 
 A PARISH FESTIVAL. 
 
 " Silent as sunbeams, and as sunbeams bright, 
 Thy years have glided and we greet thee now, 
 In the soft glory of thy spirit's light, 
 The bridal wreath upon thy vestal brow." 
 
 T was the 25th of January, 1858, 
 the marriage-day of the Princess 
 Royal. Great was the excite- 
 ment throughout all England, as 
 the nuptial hour drew near ; 
 heartfelt and fervent the prayers 
 breathed by a loyal and devoted people, in be- 
 half of the young and tender maiden, who, in 
 the first blush of womanhood, was called upon 
 to quit the peaceful seclusion of her Island 
 home, the fostering care of loving parents, and 
 the long-tried affection of that noble nation of 
 which she was the pride and flower, to venture 
 alone into the midst of strangers a dweller in 
 a foreign land. 
 
 There was much of melancholy in the
 
 A PARISH FESTIVAL. 175 
 
 thought ; but England was called on to re- 
 joice, and countless were the festivities to 
 which the event gave rise, from the stately 
 revels held in the mansions of the great, to 
 the humble treat provided for the poor and 
 lowly for the inmates of the almshouse, nay, 
 for the very beggars in the streets. All were 
 alike actuated by one common impulse ; and 
 as the joyous strains of mirth swelled loud 
 and high, there were few, perchance, who 
 paused to muse upon the grief which even 
 then must dwell within the hearts of those 
 who, although gifted with all that rank and 
 wealth had to bestow, were yet sorrowing 
 upon the eve of a painful separation. 
 
 We were not without some festivities at 
 
 H : I say we, for although an American 
 
 by birth and education, I had now been living 
 for upwards of five years in England, in com- 
 pany with my father, whose gradually declining 
 health necessitated his sojourn in some tem- 
 perate clime. It was this cause which first 
 brought us to the Isle of Wight, and which 
 also induced us to prolong our stay. So, as 
 there appeared no likelihood of our immediate 
 return k to my own loved native land, I had 
 learned to identify myself completely for the 
 time being with the inhabitants of the neigh-
 
 176 A PARISH FESTIVAL. 
 
 borhood in which I had so long and happily 
 resided. 
 
 The history of my own life is in nowise cal- 
 culated to interest my readers ; so I need only 
 inform them that I am an elderly maiden lady, 
 and that at the period of which I write we 
 occupied a pretty cottage, all covered over 
 with trailing wreaths of passion-flowers, and a 
 profusion of white and crimson roses, which 
 stood beside a rippling brooklet on the con- 
 fines of H and the adjoining inland parish. 
 
 Thus much for myself. I will now return to 
 the more important theme that is to form the 
 subject of my tale. 
 
 Very early by six o'clock on Monday morn- 
 ing I awoke to the consciousness that the 
 long-anticipated day had come at last. It did 
 not find me installed within my simple cham- 
 ber at Hose Cottage, but occupying a large 
 
 and pleasant bedroom at the Rectory of II- , 
 
 where I had been on a fortnight's visit during 
 the temporary absence of my father. I rose, 
 and drawing aside the curtains looked anxiously 
 forth, to judge if the weather were likely to 
 prove favorable to our wishes. It was very 
 cold and gray, but at all events there appeared 
 no prospect of a storm, and with this assurance 
 I was forced to be content, and to return for
 
 A PARISH FESTIVAL. 177 
 
 an hour to bed, less for the sake of repose 
 than for the opportunity which would be thus 
 afforded me of pondering at leisure the various 
 duties that I should be required to fulfil. 
 
 It must bo owned that my reflections were 
 not entirely agreeable, for I had most unwisely 
 allowed myself to undertake a far larger share 
 of work than I felt at all capable of performing 
 to my satisfaction. This is an error into which 
 many persons are liable to fall, but it is one 
 which all should conscientiously endeavor to 
 avoid ; for although it is certainly incumbent 
 on us not to permit a moment of our time to 
 pass by unimproved, yet we have no right de- 
 liberately to burden ourselves with an amount 
 of labor which we are not equal to the task of 
 discharging in a proper manner. 
 
 But I was bound by a voluntary promise to 
 accomplish every thing which I had seen fit to 
 mark out for myself, while snugly established 
 in an arm-chair by the fireside on the preceding 
 Saturday, with no more fatiguing demand upon 
 my powers than that of initiating my little 
 favorite, Lilly Merton, into the mysteries of 
 knitting. My friends, whcx were already over- 
 whelmed with business, had gratefully availed 
 themselves of my proffered services to disap- 
 point them was impossible so, with a film re-
 
 178 A PARISH FESTIVAL. 
 
 Hance on the truth of the old proverb, "Wheie 
 there is a will, there is a way," I set about 
 considering the conflicting claims on my atten- 
 tion, and the means by which they could be 
 most effectually reconciled. 
 
 First of all, there was the vase of flowers to 
 ornament the school-room chimney-piece. I 
 believe I have not yet told you, that the prin- 
 cipal part of our celebration was to consist of 
 a grand dinner provided in the school-house 
 for more than a hundred of the parish children. 
 It is rather strange I should have forgotten to 
 mention it till now, since I had heard little 
 during the past week beyond sundry discus- 
 sions relating to roast beef and boiled beef, 
 plum-puddings and currant-bunns, until I was 
 at length inclined to fancy that the quiet vicar- 
 age had of a sudden become transformed into 
 a huge refectory, founded for the express pur- 
 pose of supplying these national dainties to the 
 United Kingdoms. 
 
 But I am wandering widely from my sub- 
 ject. The gathering and arranging of the flow- 
 ers was the smallest part of my allotted duty, 
 for I had also engaged to make up the tea, 
 designed for an after-feast to the old women of 
 the parish, into little parcels, and to visit a 
 sick child at some distance, to whom kind Mrs.
 
 A PARISH FESTIVAL. 179 
 
 Merton had promised a portion of the deli 
 cacies which she would be unable to enjoy in 
 common with her young companions. Thus 
 far my tasks were simple, and would have 
 occasioned no perplexity, had it not been for a 
 circumstance which must necessarily lead me 
 in a totally opposite direction. 
 
 On the evening of Saturday, while assem- 
 bled in the study, as was our wont at that 
 hour, to beguile the lingering twilight with 
 the charms of family and social intercourse, 
 we were startled by a sudden ringing of the 
 hall bell, followed by the entrance of an unex- 
 pected, but most welcome guest. 
 
 He was a young gentleman from Baltimore, 
 the son of a clergyman of that city, with whom 
 Mr. Merton had formed an intimate acquaint- 
 ance during a short visit which he had made 
 several years previously to America. Young 
 Mr. Henry "Weston declared himself unable to 
 
 remain longer than three days at H , as he 
 
 was desirous of making a hurried tour through 
 England before proceeding to the continent, 
 where he purposed taking up his abode for the 
 winter, either at Rome or Florence, with a 
 view of prosecuting his studies as a painter, 
 and also of becoming familiar with the in- 
 numerable gems of art which crowd the pal-
 
 180 A PARISH FESTIVAL. 
 
 aces and galleries of classic Italy. Of course, 
 my friends were particularly anxious to intro- 
 duce our visitor to the chief scenes of attrac- 
 tion in their native isle. Tuesday was imme- 
 diately set apart for an excursion to the Un- 
 dercliff; but as the stranger's stay was very 
 limited, it was important not to lose the inter- 
 vening time, and accordingly, since neither 
 Mr. Merton nor his wife could conveniently 
 be absent from home upon the morning of the 
 fete, I volunteered to guide my young com- 
 patriot to Carisbrooke its gray old church 
 dating from the Norman conquest, and its tall 
 castled rock, which overhangs the village it in 
 other days defended. Under ordinary circum- 
 stances this would have been only a delight, 
 for I dearly loved to wander amid the lovely 
 scenery by which this pleasant hamlet is sur- 
 rounded ; or, stationed on the ramparts of the 
 castle, to look down upon the peaceful church- 
 yard, while all rude sounds were hushed to 
 silence, and the sweet, mellowed music of the 
 chimes alone broke in upon my meditations : 
 alas ! upon this occasion there would be no 
 leisure for the indulgence of that contempla- 
 tive mood which so enhances the charm of 
 every scene of beauty, but more especially of 
 a ruin ; in fact, there would be little time for
 
 A PARISU FESTIVAL. 1'81 
 
 enjoyment in any form, for we were all tc 
 meet at the school-house by two, therefore it is 
 not surprising that I should have felt somewhat 
 disturbed, on pausing to review the varied oc- 
 cupations it would be needful to compress into 
 a few short hours. 
 
 When the clock struck seven I began to 
 dress, for it was the. custom at the Kectory to 
 have prayers at eight, and breakfast imme- 
 diately after. Upon the conclusion of my toi- 
 lette, I had still twenty minutes at command ; 
 so wrapping myself in a thick woollen shawl, 
 I at once proceeded to the garden. The season 
 this year had been unusually mild the turf, 
 instead of wearing the brown hue of winter, 
 was still arrayed in its bright summer robe of 
 emerald green ; and although the trees were 
 leafless, and even the dahlias and chrysanthe- 
 mums had disappeared, a few pale autumn 
 blossoms lingered on the sunny flower lawn, 
 and beneath the sheltering hedge of " var- 
 nished holly." 
 
 I had soon collected a most lovely bouquet, 
 consisting of the snowy laurestinus, just then 
 in all its prime, the periwinkle and the Christ- 
 mas rose, intermingled with a few sprigs of 
 gorse, whose half-folded petals, of the palest 
 yellow, differed so widely from its former gold- 
 16
 
 182 A PAEISH FESTIVAL. 
 
 en glory : these, together with a variety of 
 greens, were disposed in a china vase, and then 
 I entered the dining-room with a lighter heart, 
 from the consciousness that something, how- 
 ever slight, had been effected. 
 
 During breakfast we engaged in a general 
 discussion of our plans for the coming day. 
 There was to be luncheon at quarter past one 
 so Mrs. Merton told us and she hoped that 
 we would all be punctual, as we must allow 
 ourselves sufficient leisure for superintending 
 operations at the school-house before the chil- 
 dren should arrive. We all promised obedience 
 to her injunction, and hastily finishing my cup 
 of coffee, I made an apology for leaving the 
 table before the remainder of the party had 
 finished their repast. My first care was to di- 
 vide the tea, designed for the old ladies, into 
 separate parcels, each one containing an ample 
 allowance for five persons. As there were just 
 forty expected to be present, precisely eight 
 portions were required, and this done I depos- 
 ited the little packages in a basket, together 
 with a corresponding amount of nice loaf-su- 
 gar ; and having received from Mrs. Merton 
 an assurance that the carriage should be in 
 readiness before eleven, I set out upon my "visit 
 to poor Susie Elwood's cottage.
 
 A PARISH FESTIVAL. 183 
 
 This humble home alike the abode of pov- 
 erty and Christian worth was situated in one 
 of the most remote and secluded districts of the 
 parish. It stood close beside a by-road, which 
 was comparatively seldom travelled ; and the 
 few scattered houses that composed the tiny 
 settlement were all of the same unpretending 
 character as the one which Dame Elwood oc- 
 cupied. There was a little strip of garden- 
 ground attached to each, which being for the 
 most part gay with the commoner sorts of Eng- 
 lish flowers in summer, and adorned even in 
 winter with the crimson monthly-rose, and the 
 scarlet berries of the holly imparted at all 
 seasons a " cheery" aspect to the place. The 
 surroundings were of a truly rural character, 
 with no touch of the sublime nothing to be 
 seen beyond a softly swelling pasture-land, va- 
 ried by many a field of waving grain, with 
 here and there a substantial looking farm-house, 
 half hid by its goodly barns and hay-stacks, 
 and a far-off glimpse of the blue, glittering sea. 
 
 Great as was the compassion I felt for Susie 
 Elwood, I could never fail to compare these 
 tranquil scenes, on which she gazed daily from 
 her narrow casement, with the foul and dingy 
 alleys of the crowded town, wherein so many 
 languish, victims of a maladv as fatal as was
 
 184. A TAKISH FESTIVAL. 
 
 hers, but with none of the alleviations by 
 which her lingering illness had been solaced. 
 
 Upon knocking lightly at the cottage door, 
 a faint voice called to me to enter. I recog- 
 nized the tone as Susie's ; and as there was no 
 one in the kitchen except my old acquaintance, 
 pussy, who was basking most luxuriously upon 
 the hearth, I at once mounted the short flight 
 of steps leading to the chamber overhead. The 
 sweet child was lying, as I invariably found 
 her, on the lowly couch to which she had for a 
 weary lapse of time been constantly confined ; 
 while her delicate features, rendered thin and 
 sharp by illness, wore an air of natural sorrow 
 for the infirmity which was her appointed lot, 
 combined with the more exalted sentiment of 
 resignation to God's unerring will. 
 
 I have never beheld a countenance more ex- 
 quisitely lovely ; but it was bright with that 
 mysterious beauty which, with the young and 
 innocent, is frequently the harbinger of death ; 
 " the signet-ring of heaven," as one of our own 
 poets has feelingly expressed it. She seemed 
 extremely fragile. Her soft, dark eyes spark- 
 ling with such unnatural lustre ; the clear 
 whiteness of her cheek, just tinged with pink ; 
 above all, that quick and labored breathing, 
 60 unspeakably painful to the beholder, all
 
 A PAKI8H FESTIVAL. 185 
 
 plainly showed that she was close upon the 
 borders of the land of promise. 
 
 Susie's mother, who was also her indefati- 
 gable nurse, chanced to be absent at that mo- 
 ment upon some necessary errand ; so I seated 
 myself beside the bed, and entered into con- 
 versation with its gentle occupant. 
 
 "This is, you know, the Princess Royal's 
 marriage-day," I observed, after having asked 
 the usual questions relating to the invalid's 
 own health. 
 
 " Yes ; and it is my birth-day, too," the child 
 answered with a smile. "I have just com- 
 pleted my thirteenth year." 
 
 " It is very sad to see you lying here so weak 
 and suffering," I continued ; " do you not feel 
 it to be a heavy trial ?" 
 
 " Yes, veiy heavy often," she replied ; " but 
 now ' the sentence remained unconcluded, 
 for it was very rarely that she ventured to 
 converse upon her private feelings ; but I did 
 not need to be informed of the thoughts which 
 were passing in her heart, and as I reverently 
 bent to kiss the wan and fevered brow, and 
 held one small, transparent hand within my 
 own, while the other tightly clasped a well- 
 worn Bible, I was conscious of a thrilling sense 
 of awe, as for the first time I fully compre-
 
 186 A PARISH FESTIVAL. 
 
 hended how soon the glories of the unseen 
 world would be revealed to that little child's 
 enraptured sight. 
 
 I could have lingered for hours in that 
 modest attic ; so neat, and yet so simple, with 
 its clean, though coarse white counterpane and 
 pillow-cases, and the wine-glass, bearing its 
 single fragrant rose-bud, which stood upon the 
 sill. It was always a trial to leave this calm 
 retreat, where no unhallowed breath of worldly 
 care seemed to intrude, and I generally re- 
 mained as long as the strength of the dying 
 girl would permit her to bear the presence of a 
 visitor. In this instance, however, I was com- 
 pelled to hasten my departure, therefore I bade 
 my little friend farewell ; and having informed 
 her what were the contents of the basket which 
 had been sent to her by Mrs. Merton, and ex- 
 pressed a hope that Dame Elwood might be 
 able to join the school-house party in the even- 
 ing, I made the best of my way back to H , 
 
 where I arrived precisely as the hall clock 
 struck eleven. Mrs. Weston and little Lilly 
 Merton were waiting for me in the drawing- 
 room ; so we lost no time in seating ourselves 
 in the pony-chaise, and driving off at a brisk 
 pace towards Carisbrooke. 
 
 Passing by all other objects of attention,
 
 A PARISH FESTIVAL. 187 
 
 we went directly to the old castle, one of the 
 most picturesque remains of by-gone ages to 
 be found in England, and interesting alike 
 from its romantic beauty, and from the memo- 
 rable historic associations which throng around 
 its name. Our visit there was, of necessity, a 
 hurried one, and the season of the year was 
 unfortunately not the most favorable that could 
 have been selected by a tourist ; but, despite 
 these disadvantages, the delight of the young 
 stranger knew no bounds. 
 
 A high, cold wind rendered it unsafe to 
 ascend the ramparts ; so we consoled ourselves, 
 for this disappointment, by climbing the steep, 
 time-worn steps that lead to the old Saxon 
 keep, and enjoying the extended view which 
 this most elevated point commands ; after 
 which we visited the well that had in former 
 days supplied the garrison with water, and 
 thence proceeded to inspect a small concealed 
 chapel, which had been recently discovered in 
 the thickness of the walls. Last of all, we 
 paused beneath the window by which the 
 martyr-king of England, Charles the First, 
 who was for some time confined within this 
 stronghold, endeavored to escape from his im- 
 prisonment; and having lingered to call up 
 the images this spot suggested, and descanted
 
 188 A PARISH FESTIVAL. 
 
 with a mournful pleasure upon his melancholy 
 and yet glorious end, we retraced our steps 
 towards the spacious court, whence we set 
 about exploring every nook and corner of the 
 hoary pile. 
 
 Truly this proved, as I had feared, a work 
 of time ; and I began at length quite to despair 
 of Mr. Henry, for lie seemed never weary of 
 wandering amid the grass-grown halls, and 
 gazing upon the ivy-mantled towers and 
 crumbling battlements ; but it was the young 
 artist's first experience of a ruin, so I felt 
 bound to overlook any little want of consider- 
 ation, which might have annoyed me under 
 different circumstances. 
 
 "It was here that the Princess Elizabeth 
 once dwelt," remarked my darling Lilly, who 
 had always evinced a special affection for the 
 memory of her royal namesake, \vhose sad 
 captivity within these walls was terminated by 
 an early death. 
 
 "Yes; and that just reminds me that I am 
 peculiarly desirous of seeing her effigy in the 
 church at Newport," observed Mr. Weston, 
 suddenly awaking from the day-dream in 
 which he had been lost. 
 
 "It will be very easy to gratify your wish, 
 and I am sure you will be well repaid," I an-
 
 A PARISH FESTIVAL. 189 
 
 swered, feeling secretly rejoiced to lure my 
 young charge away from Carisbrooke on any 
 terms ; " only, in that case, we really must not 
 stay here longer ; and, I fear too, that we shall 
 be obliged to content ourselves with a distant 
 prospect of the village, for the chimes are 
 playing even now, and we shall have barely 
 ten minutes to inspect the monument." 
 
 Mr. "Weston declared his willingness to de- 
 part at once ; and, resuming our places in the 
 chaise, we took the nearest road to Newport. 
 This is a pleasant little country town, and we 
 could readily have beguiled an hour in its 
 quaint, narrow thoroughfares had time per- 
 mitted. As it was, we preferred devoting the 
 whole of our scanty leisure to the church ; and 
 only waiting to procure a guide, we passed 
 into the sacred temple. 
 
 This edifice, which is of considerable an- 
 tiquity, has of late been completely restored 
 and modernized. The ashes of the youthful 
 princess repose within the " Chancel Shade," 
 and ere long we were standing beside her re- 
 cumbent image. Often as I had previously 
 contemplated this perfect work of art, the sight 
 was one which never failed to inspire me with 
 a renewed sense of pleasure. One single ray 
 of pallid sunshine, which struggled through the
 
 190 A PARISH FESTIVAL. 
 
 window, fell full upon the lovely face, reveal- 
 ing the exquisite symmetry of the delicately 
 moulded features, and the purity and sweet- 
 ness of the expression which beamed upon the 
 brow. 
 
 There is something irresistibly touching in 
 the attitude, at once so calm, and yet so full of 
 grace. She is represented precisely as she was 
 discovered by an attendant, after life had be- 
 come extinct, reclining at full length, with 
 her head resting upon a Bible, open at the 
 beautiful passage " Come unto me all ye that 
 travail and are heavy laden, and I will give 
 you rest ;" while her long flowing ringlets 
 stream over the holy page. 
 
 " How fearful must have been the scenes of 
 strife and bloodshed by which that pure and 
 gentle spirit was encompassed!" observed the 
 young artist in a whisper. " And yet," he 
 continued, "in her child-like innocence and 
 truth, she was a worthy daughter of the 
 martyr-king, to whom she owed her birth." 
 
 "And think how blessed her release," I 
 added, as I gazed upon the slumbering form. 
 " How often throughout her brief and troubled 
 warfare has she doubtless experienced the con- 
 solatory nature of those precious promises 
 which soothed her in the hour of death."
 
 A PARISH FESTIVAL. 191 
 
 "Her Majesty is about to have a stained- 
 glass window placed above the monument, in 
 order to soften the broad glare of light," began 
 our guide, breaking in^with a loud voice upon 
 the hallowed stillness. 
 
 We were all of us painfully -impressed by 
 the irreverence that could thus dispel the 
 charm which breathed throughout the conse- 
 crated fane. Perhaps our silent and subdued 
 demeanor may have shown the well-meaning, 
 but thoughtless woman, how much we disap- 
 proved of any violation of that sanctity which 
 must at all times pervade the Temple of the 
 Most High, for her manner changed, and we 
 were left to uninterrupted meditation, until 
 the moment of departure had arrived. Turn- 
 ing back for one last look, as we were about to 
 quit the chancel, I was for the first time struck 
 by a resemblance, either fancied or real, be- 
 tween this high-born descendant of a royal 
 race and the humble cottage maid, beside 
 whose couch of sickness I had that morning 
 stood. Different, indeed, their stations here 
 on earth, although suffering and sorrow had 
 been the lot of both; but in the smile of 
 heavenly peace which beamed upon each 
 placid countenance, I recognized them as alike 
 the children of the King of kings, and joint-
 
 192 A PARISH FESTIVAL. 
 
 heirs of that bright inheritance which was tc 
 be their blessed and eternal portion. 
 
 Luncheon was, as I had expected, nearly 
 over when we reached the rectory ; but after 
 our pleasant expedition, we were not disposed 
 to complain of any minor inconvenience, and 
 only allowing ourselves time for a very slight 
 refreshment, we all proceeded to the school- 
 house. A short stroll brought us to the mod- 
 est red-brick edifice, which was charmingly 
 situated in the midst of a gently undulating 
 country, commanding a delightful prospect of 
 the distant hills. Although it was not near the 
 hour appointed for the children to assemble, 
 several groups were already scattered through 
 the play-ground, not, as in general, occupied 
 with the swings, the see-saws, the climbing- 
 poles, and j umping-bars, and all the other con- 
 trivances which their kind Hector had caused 
 to be provided for their healthful recreation, 
 but conversing in low tones among themselves, 
 and impatiently, as it appeared, counting the 
 minutes which must yet elapse before the time 
 of their anticipated treat. 
 
 Cordially responding to their salutations, 
 we went on to the house, closing the door in- 
 exorably .behind us, and leaving the poor 
 children in the cold outer air to sigh for the
 
 A PARISH FJJSTIVAL. 193 
 
 long wished-for moment of admission. Within, 
 a bright fire was blazing in the ample grate, 
 and the walls were beautifully adorned with 
 evergreens, which also hung in thick garlands 
 from the ceiling ; the frames of the few colored 
 prints were twined with wreaths of rosemary 
 and myrtle ; upon the chimney-piece were 
 placed the sweet flowers, which I had arranged 
 with so much care ; while above the entrance, 
 the word " WKLCOME" might be seen, formed 
 from the vivid scarlet berries of the holly, and 
 surmounted by a canopy of dark, shining 
 leaves. It gleamed like a parting smile from 
 the fast-waning star of Christmas, and our 
 hearts wanned at sight of the familiar em- 
 blems of that hallowed season. 
 
 After we had sufficiently admired these 
 tasteful decorations the fruit of some skill 
 and perseverance on the part of Mr. Merton's 
 only son and a number of his companions 
 we all diligently betook ourselves to the task 
 before us. Mr. Weston joined heartily in the 
 " fun," as he expressed it ; and by his ready in- 
 genuity in devising schemes and obviating diffi- 
 culties, proved himself an equally willing and 
 efficient aid. Six young girls, who had formerly 
 been scholars, had volunteered their services in 
 any branch, of work which might be requisite. 
 
 17
 
 194: A PARISH FESTIVAL. 
 
 Accordingly we all in common commenced 
 operations, by dragging the long, heavy table 
 into the centre of the room ; and having placed 
 a smaller one at either end, together with seve- 
 ral little stands in different corners, we spread 
 a snow-white covering over all, and then draw- 
 ing the rows of benches alongside, we laid a 
 fresh, round roll before each seat. Next came 
 the more perplexing business of sorting over 
 and endeavoring to classify the rather motley 
 collection of plates and goblets which each 
 family had been requested to provide for its 
 own members. 
 
 Notwithstanding these deficiencies, all wore 
 an inviting aspect when our preparations were 
 complete ; and as we had ere this been joined 
 by a number of the neighboring gentry, and 
 the play -ground was quite crowded with ex- 
 pectant youth, whom the schoolmaster had 
 marshalled into a precession, the doors were 
 at length flung back upon their hinges, and 
 the children entered two by two, singing a 
 pretty song as they advanced. All were ar- 
 rayed with neatness, yet with extreme sim- 
 plicity the boys with hair smoothly brushed 
 and clean white linen collars ; the girls in 
 high-necked frocks of dark checked print. 
 Happiness sparkled upon every face, and I
 
 A PARISH FESTIVAL. 195 
 
 saw that they could scarcely restrain a more 
 noisy demonstration of their merriment. 
 
 There was some bustle attendant upon the 
 business of selecting places ; and when this 
 had in a degree subsided, the Kector arose and 
 requested silence ; then the parish clerk, who 
 was present with an instrument of music, be- 
 gan a sacred air, and all standing up, a simple 
 grace was chanted, after which the little guests 
 resumed their seats, and we elders set about 
 distributing the viands. 
 
 There was no lack of occupation for any of 
 the party. Mr. Weston at once took possession 
 of a huge joint of beef, which he was soon 
 employed in carving ; Mr. Merton, who had 
 stationed himself at another table, was simi- 
 larly engaged; while his two sweet children 
 were happy in being bearers of the good fare 
 which had been so bountifully provided. 
 Some of the spectators were busied in serving 
 out portions of turnips and potatoes, and others 
 in kindly coming to the assistance of the very 
 youngest, who were unable to manage the 
 dainty cheer until it had been cut up into tiny 
 morsels. One young lady, who had arrived 
 very late, and chanced to find no work ready 
 at that moment to her hand, was attempting 
 to count the number of the children, but with-
 
 196 A PAltlSH FESTIVAL. 
 
 out success, since the constant motion winch 
 was going on around confused her perception 
 of even stationary objects. I could easily have 
 told her what she desired to know, and so have 
 saved her from all further trouble ; but as she 
 merely seemed amused by her frequent failures, 
 I forbore, and soon the necessity of replenishing 
 the children's plates diverted her attention from 
 the subject, and I had the pleasure of seeing 
 Alice Meredith, as active as even her own wish 
 could dictate. 
 
 "When all had concluded the more substan- 
 tial part of the repast, Mrs. Merton called aloud 
 for the plum-puddings, and ere long they were 
 brought in, smoking hot, each one decorated 
 with a sprig of holly. This second course 
 afforded even more satisfaction than its prede- 
 cessor ; and when an abundant portion had 
 been served to all, Mr. Merton delivered a 
 simple, but very beautiful address, in which 
 he explained the nature of the event that we 
 were met to celebrate. Having given a slight 
 sketch of their history, he proposed the health 
 of the Prince and Princess, whereupon he was 
 answered by a universal outburst of applause ; 
 and I doubt much if the happiness of the Royal 
 Lady was on that day more sincerely pledged 
 in the red wine of the costly banquet, than in
 
 A PARISH FESTIVAL. 197 
 
 those modest cans of nut-brown ale, a very 
 small allowance of winch had been furnished 
 for each one of these loyal little subjects, in 
 honor of the occasion. Then followed the 
 sublime and soul-stirring anthem of Old Eng- 
 land, in whose strains, at once so inspiring and 
 so solemn, we all united with true and un- 
 affected earnestness. Mr. "Weston, who never 
 remembered having heard the hynin before, 
 was completely overpowered by enthusiasm ; 
 and at the words 
 
 " God bless our native land ! 
 May Heaven's protecting hand 
 Still guard our shore!" 
 
 I am sure no English voice was more distinctly 
 audible than his. 
 
 When the last thundering peal of " God save 
 the Queen !" had died quite away, there ensued 
 a second speech from Mr. Merton, in which he 
 alluded to the kindness of those friends to 
 whom the children were indebted for that 
 day's amusement, as well as for the blessings 
 of education, and various other privileges 
 which they enjoyed. He spoke, too, of there 
 being so many in the parish who loved them, 
 and took a sincere and affectionate interest alike 
 
 in their temporal and their eternal welfare. 
 170
 
 198 A PARISH FESTIVAL. 
 
 I hqpe that some among the listeners were 
 moved with a real desire to become daily more 
 deserving of the benefits which God had so 
 freely bestowed upon them : certain it is, that 
 many eyes were bright with tears at the close 
 of their beloved Rector's exhortation. 
 
 But now the hour was waxing late ; and the 
 poor children's festival, that event to which 
 they had so long and eagerly looked forward, 
 was at an end. Short-lived, indeed, are all 
 the pleasures of this lower world ; but this 
 thought should only inflame us with more ar- 
 dent zeal in pressing onward towards the at- 
 tainment of those joys, which are unchange- 
 able as He from whom they spring. After 
 having joined in a familiar hymn, the little 
 ones dispersed. I watched them from the 
 window for a moment, as they pursued their 
 sportive gambols on the green ; and then turned 
 to bear a part in the arrangements for our tea- 
 party, which were j ust commencing. 
 
 The six attendants had been dismissed into 
 the inner school-room, in order to be feasted 
 jn their turn, so that we were obliged to set to 
 work without them. One of the gentlemen 
 had already replenished the fire and swept up 
 the hearth; while we ladies employed our- 
 selves in clearing away the remnants of the
 
 A PAKISH FESTIVAL. 199 
 
 dinner, laying aside the table-coverings, and 
 striving by every means in our power to make 
 the room appear as neat and comfortable as 
 possible. Having placed a monster .kettle of 
 water on the hob to boil, and also arranged 
 the cups and saucers on the table, we next 
 paid our respects to a large chest, containing a 
 goodly stock of tempting bunns, which the 
 baker had been ordered to supply for the 
 evening. Sundry piled-up dishes were de- 
 posited upon the board ; and then seating our- 
 selves on a bench before the fire, we waited 
 the arrival of our expected guests. 
 
 It was not long before they came ; at firsfc, 
 in straggling groups of two and three, and 
 then in larger numbers, until the room was 
 filled with smiling matrons, all evidently pre- 
 pared .to enjoy the social meal to which they 
 had been bidden. Dame Elwood was among 
 the last who entered. I went forward to wel- 
 come her; and while engaged in taking off 
 her cloak and hood, I remarked that we had 
 scarcely imagined she would be able to leave 
 home on account of Susie. 
 
 "I did not think of it myself," she an- 
 swered; "but the dear child was so entreat- 
 ing-like, and said so often how pleased she 
 would be to hear my account of these grand
 
 200 A PARISH FESTIVAL. 
 
 doings, that at last I had to come away to 
 pacify her." 
 
 " I am sure you must need the relaxation," 
 I observed ; " and I can also understand quite 
 well the amusement which poor Susie will 
 derive to-morrow from all that you will haA'e 
 to tell her. Of course, she is not in the mean 
 time left entirely alone ?" 
 
 " Oh ! no, ma'am ; Lizzie Gray came in at 
 dusk to say that she would gladly stay with 
 
 Susie, if I wished to come to li . It was 
 
 this decided me, for Lizzie is the nicest girl in 
 the whole parish, and I felt sure she would 
 take the greatest care of my poor child." 
 
 " Yes, one may trust Lizzie Gray with per- 
 fect confidence," I replied ; " and I doubt not 
 her society will be of benefit to Susie." 
 
 " They were talking over the school-dinner 
 when I left," rejoined the mother; "and I 
 should not be surprised if some of the other 
 girls were to call at our cottage by-and-by, for 
 Susie w r as always good and gentle to her play- 
 mates, and they all love her more than ever 
 now." 
 
 Our conversation was at this point broken 
 off by Mrs. Merton, who, after kindly greeting 
 good Dame Elwood, presented her with one 
 of the little packages of tea, I have already
 
 A PARISH FESTIVAL. 201 
 
 mentioned, and requested that she would pre 
 side over the entertainment of her own especial 
 friends. The dear old lady appeared to be a 
 general centre of attraction ; and I was rather 
 curious to see how she would contrive to 
 choose, from among so many claimants on her 
 favor, without giving offence to any. 
 
 But harmony was evidently the watchword 
 of that humble company. Instinctively the 
 aged matrons seemed to" divide themselves into 
 just such parties as were most congenial to 
 each other; and soon all were cosily estab- 
 lished at different points of the long table, 
 each distinct band being clustered around a 
 pewter teapot, which shone bright as silver, 
 sipping the fragrant beverage, and extolling 
 the excellence of the currant-bunns ; while, by 
 degrees, any little feeling of constraint wore 
 off, and the hum of cheerful voices gave token 
 of their quiet happiness. 
 
 Since matters were going on so smoothly, 
 we all felt convinced that the most acceptable 
 act of kindness which we could render to our 
 guests, would be to leave them to their own 
 enjoyment ; therefore, when grace had been 
 pronounced, we withdrew to the other end of 
 the apartment, only taking care, at intervals, 
 to ascertain that the provision of bunns was not
 
 202 A PARISH FESTIVAL. 
 
 exhausted, and that a sufficient quantity of 
 boiling water was kept standing upon the fire 
 in readiness for use. 
 
 The genial influences of tea and conversation 
 seemed to expand all hearts ; and Mr. Merton, 
 perceiving that the moment was opportune, 
 stood up, before his parishioners had left the 
 table, and, in a few words, spoke of the rapid 
 progress of their dear children, both in intel- 
 lectual improvement, and in those infinitely 
 higher and more important lessons, which, he 
 most earnestly trusted, they would not fail to 
 unite with him in striving to enforce. He 
 concluded by saying, how great was the pleas- 
 ure which that day's festivities had afforded 
 him ; and that he hoped we might none of us 
 forget, that every harmless relaxation from the 
 toils of life is provided for us by a gracious 
 God, in order that we may become thereby 
 more fitted for active labor in His service. 
 
 Sacred music follo'vyed, without intermission, 
 until the brightening moonbeams, which glim- 
 mered amid the interwoven boughs of ever- 
 greens, warned us that it was time to separate. 
 A short prayer was offered up by Mr. Merton ; 
 and then the assembly dispersed among the 
 quiet lanes and by-roads that led to the many 
 scattered hamlets which composed the large,
 
 A PARISH FESTIVAL. 203 
 
 but thinly settled parish of H . "We re- 
 mained behind for a few moments to set all to 
 rights ; and then returned to the sweet rectory, 
 where a cheering fire and a well-laden supper- 
 board smiled a welcome, which we were quite 
 able to appreciate. Some glorious strains from 
 Mozart closed the evening, for we were too 
 much wearied by our unusual exertions to 
 feel much inclined for social converse. By ten 
 o'clock we retired to our pillows, reflecting, 
 with great satisfaction, upon the success which 
 had crowned this, the first entertainment of 
 
 the sort that had ever taken place at H ; 
 
 and praying that the heart of the young Prin- 
 cess might ever be as light, her happiness as 
 pure and free from guile, as were those of her 
 lowly countrymen, who had that day partici- 
 pated in our Parish Festival. 
 
 THE END.
 
 LIVES OF Till] BISHOPS. 
 
 BY THE KEV. JOHN N. NOETON, A. M., 
 Rector of the Chwch of the Ascension, Frankfort, Kentucky. 
 
 We have just received two more of these charming and 
 model biographies. Bishop Dehon, of South Carolina, 
 and Bishop Gadsden, of the same diocese, are the subject* 
 of these two volumes. It is very high praise to say 
 that Mr. Norton has elaborated these volumes with even 
 more care than either of the preceding, and that the re- 
 sult is a more finished and delightful composition. We 
 have called this entire series, so far as it has gone, model 
 biographies, and we hope that they will become such. 
 They are just such graphic and faithful portraitures of 
 distinguished men as, in all but a very few exceptional 
 cases, should supersede the heavv octavos, sometimes of 
 several volumes, that are customarily devoted to a single 
 life. As this author has well said, "Such a multitude 
 of good and useful men have lived and labored in the 
 world, that we can not well afford the time to read long 
 biographies of them all." The peculiar merit of Mr. 
 Norton in this series is, that he not only presents us with 
 all the facts that are worthy of record in a very brief 
 space, but so clothes those facts, in that marvellously 
 brief narrative, with all their circumstances and associa- 
 tions, as to give the most lively and interesting picture 
 of the man, his work, and his times. 
 
 The life of Bishop Gadsden contains a touching notice 
 of the late Rev. John B. Gallagher, who was some time a 
 presbyter in South Carolina. The people of Louisville 
 will long remember with affection and gratitude the man 
 whose soundness in the faith, and exemplary life, and 
 lovely character, so illustrated and advanced fcne cause of 
 virtue and religion in our city. Louisv&Ze Jjurr<al. 
 24
 
 BY MRS. JENNY MARSH PARKER. 
 
 THH BOY MISSIONARY is one of the best things the 
 Church Book Society has given us in a long while. The 
 idea is, to show how a poor little boy weak, sickly, and 
 not able to study much may have the spirit of a mis- 
 sionary, and may, among his fellows, do the work of a 
 missionary, too, even in boyhood ; while others, of more 
 brilliant parts and more commanding social position, look 
 forward to missionary life as something future and far 
 distant, and find their days brought to an end before 
 their work is even begun. The authoress, Jenny Marsh 
 Parker, shows no small knowledge of boy nature, and 
 the temptations incident to the life of boys in a country 
 village. Davie Hall will make many missionaries, both 
 for the Far West and for home. Church Journal. 
 
 25
 
 e 05 Jlltss ja 
 
 BY MBS. JENNY MABfffl PABKEB. 
 
 This is one of the new publications of the Church Book 
 Society ; and an admirable one it is. We do not know 
 who Jenny Marsh Parker is, but she has made a charming 
 book, and one that is calculated to do a great deal of good, 
 by inculcating the lesson that with the spirit of Christ in 
 the heart, there is no sphere so narrow, and no position so 
 humble, but gives a chance to sow the seeds of goodness 
 that shall spring up in a great harvest long years after the 
 hand that sowed them is decayed in the grave. It shows 
 how much a poor little sickly boy, with a lame back and 
 a head never free from pain, may do in a short life by the 
 power of love and kindness returning good for evil to 
 bad boys, and drawing them from the ways of vice and 
 sin. The story is simple, and very inartificial in its con- 
 struction ; but it is full of genuine pathos and of the true 
 spirit of moral beauty. It belongs to the same class of 
 books with that exquisite one, "The Ministering Chil 
 dren" not equal to it, indeed, in extent, in variety of 
 interest, or in literary execution, but still breathing th 
 same spirit and teaching the same lesson : and we heartily 
 recommend it to parents. Churchman. 
 
 26
 
 LIFE OF BISHOP HEBEB 
 
 BY THE KEV. J. N. NOKTON. 
 
 This is one of the author's most interesting histories foi 
 the reading of the young. The subject has uncommon 
 interest, and is treated with a genial appreciation. Banner 
 of the Cross. 
 
 The Life of Heber is in Mr. Norton's best style. It 
 contains as much information about him as could be com- 
 pressed into so small a compass, and precisely that infor- 
 mation which it was most desirable to present to those 
 whom tender age or want of leisure might prevent from 
 seeking it in large volumes. The Monitor. 
 
 This little biography will be of peculiar use to those 
 who have not the means of obtaining, or the opportunity 
 of procuring, the larger memoirs of the eminent prelate to 
 whom it relates. It has the particular merit of much 
 pointedness and simplicity of style. Episcopal Recorder. 
 
 This volume presents the same characteristics as those 
 in the series which have preceded it, being written in a 
 style simple and lucid, yet forcible, and with evident 
 adaptation to those for whose use it is intended. 
 
 An abridgment of a larger Memoir was issued in this 
 country last year ; but the little book before us is designed 
 to accomplish the same purpose in a much more happy 
 and effective manner. Churchman. 
 27
 
 -do n-rue touches more thrillingly the chords of Mis 
 Bk.nary Life in the Church than those of Heber and 
 Martyn ; and we need not say to any of those who are 
 familiar with Mr. Norton's other biographies, that he 
 seizes and presents to the mind, with vivid and lively 
 brevity, precisely those points which are most likely to 
 kindle somewhat of the spirit of Heber in the breast of 
 hia readers. Church Journal. 
 
 This is another volume in that attractive series whick 
 Mr. Norton has prepared, with such general acceptance, 
 foi the youth of the Chureh. It is written, like all it* 
 predecessors, with great simplicity and vigor. Christian 
 Witness. 
 
 A. valuable and interesting addition to the lives of the 
 Bishops. We can hardly imagine any species of religious 
 literature BO useful to the young as the lives of really 
 eminent and holy men, told in a simple and truthful 
 manner. Southern Episcopalian. 
 
 Bishop Heber' s Missionary Hymn is the cherished 
 heart-possession of every Christian in our land. Here is 
 a short, but full, graphic, and beautiful delineation of 
 the noble and pious author of that hymn. Every one 
 whose soul is inspired from week to week by the stirring 
 song of the mighty Christian host 
 
 '' From Greenland's icy mountains. 
 From India's coral strand" 
 
 will be eager to read this timely and fitting tribute to OM 
 of the most attractive and beautiful character! of modern 
 history. Louisville Journal. 
 
 26 
 
 1
 
 THE 
 
 LIFE OF GEORGE HERBERT 
 
 BY 
 
 GEORGE L. DUYCKINCK. 
 
 GEORGE HERBERT is of all England's sacred poets th^ 
 most sure of an enduring fame. He was a true poet. 
 His life, too, was a very lovely one that of a true Chris- 
 tian, of a scholar, a gentleman, and a faithful parish 
 priest. More than this, he was beloved of dear old Izaak 
 Walton, who wrote his life with that sweet homeliness of 
 style which wins all honest hearts to him. Mr. Duyckinck 
 has undertaken, in this pretty little volume, to set forth 
 Herbert's life again " with a simplicity of style and ful- 
 ness of detail which should in some degree meet the re- 
 quirements both of youthful and mature readers." He 
 has been very successful in a not very easy task. He has 
 come to the work imbued with a love of his subject, and 
 thoroughly understanding it ; and he writes with an un* 
 affected earnestness and purity quite in keeping with 
 it. The young reader will find much valuable and inter- 
 esting information in the book, upon matters kindred to 
 or connected with its main purpose ; and it is calculated 
 to foster a correct literary taste, no less than to beget a 
 healthy moral tone. Courier and Enquirer. 
 30
 
 THE LIVES OF THE BISHOPS, 
 
 BY THE EEV. J. N. NORTON. 
 
 PUBLISHED BY THE CHUKCH BOOK SOCIETY. 
 
 TEN BEAUTIFUL VOLUMES 18mo., each ILLUSTRATED with a FINI 
 STEEL ENGRAVING. Bound In Half Morocco, Embossed, and sold 
 together for $2-60 
 
 Or In Fancy Muslin, for 8 00 
 
 Or separately, as follows : 
 
 THE LIFE OF BISHOP WHITE, half emb. 25 c. Fancy mus. 30 c. 
 
 THE LIFE OF BISHOP GRISWOLD, " 25 c. " "80 c. 
 
 THE LIFE OF BISHOP CHASE, " 25 c. " " SO c 
 
 THE LIFE OF BISHOP SEABUET, " 25 c, " 80 c. 
 
 THE LIFE OF BISHOP HOBART, " 25 c. " 80 c. 
 
 THE LIFE OF BISHOP MOORE, of VA. 25 o. u 80 c. 
 
 THE LIFE OF BISHOP DEHON, 25 c. u " 80 c. 
 
 THE LIFE OF BISHOP GAD9DEN, " 25 c. 80 o. 
 
 THE LIFE OF BISHOP HEBER, " 25 o. " 80 a 
 
 THE LIFE OF BISHOP RAVENSCROFT, 25 o. " 80 a 
 
 I\ PRESS, 
 
 THE LIFE OF BISHOP WAINWRIGHT. By Ev. J. N. NO*TOW 
 
 THE LIFE OF BISHOP CLAGQETT. do. 
 
 THE LIFE OF BISHOP CROES. " " do. 
 
 THE LIFE OF BISHOP HENSHAW. M do. 
 
 81
 
 LIFE OF BISHOP GROES. 
 
 BY THE EEV. JOHN N. NORTON. 
 
 NOTICES OF THE PRESS. 
 
 THIS Life of Bishop Croes will be found very useful, 
 The Christian traits of the Bishop are happily set forth, 
 and we find much to admire. The volume is one of de- 
 cided interest. 
 
 If this series of books is read by children, they will get 
 the best general instruction from them, and soimd and 
 practical views of the Church. There is much in them 
 to stimulate the young to the practice of early piety, and 
 to aim for high excellence in life. Banner of the Cross. 
 
 This volume, like its predecessors, is both interesting 
 and instructive. Gospel Messenger. 
 
 The history of Bishop Croes' life, besides being inter- 
 esting, as showing the good deeds of one who was ever 
 kind and amiable, and who performed most important 
 services for the Church, is doubly attractive, as evincing 
 the ability which a young man of energy and talent pos- 
 sesses to raise himself to a high position, in spite of ad- 
 verse circumstances. Churchman. 
 
 The author has succeeded in placing the character of 
 Bishop Croes before the Church and the world in the light 
 of truth, and in the living energy of his own actions. 
 Episcopal Recorder. 
 
 Another interesting volume of this series. Christian 
 Witnest. 
 
 33
 
 LIFE OF BISHOP CROES. 
 
 Mr. Norton's Life of Bishop Croes is not limited to tha 
 matter personal to that worthy and staunch Bishop, but 
 gives a full and carefnl history of the growth of the 
 Church in New Jersey, through all its trials and diffi- 
 culties, up to the year 1832. In nearly every part of it, 
 indeed, the Bishop was more or less concerned, being a 
 Jerseyman by birth and breeding, and the unbroken 
 association of a long life. He was a self-made man ; and 
 the strong points of his character strenuous patience 
 and unflinching tenacity of purpose were not a little 
 owing to the varied but stern discipline of his own ex- 
 perience. His long and laborious work in New Jersey 
 was a good work well done. Church Journal. 
 
 It seems hardly necessary, for the circulation of this 
 book, to do more than announce the author's name. He 
 has succeeded so admirably in his other brief sketches of 
 Bishops, that the Rev. Mr. Norton's name is a guarantee 
 for the excellence of this. Calendar. 
 
 A rery interesting volume. Southern Churchman. 
 
 We have been delighted in reading this little book. 
 By Mr. Norton's aid we follow a brave youth of sixteen, 
 barely able to read, enrolled as a soldier in the armies of 
 the Revolution, taught to write by the drummer of his 
 company, serving his country faithfully in whatever sta- 
 tion placed, struggling with poverty in acquiring an 
 education, but rising triumphant over every obstacle, to 
 take his stand among the first men of his age, and to re- 
 suscitate and build up the Episcopal Church, and to lay 
 broad and deep its foundation in New Jersey. We con- 
 sider this one of the most successful of all Mr. Norton's 
 efforts, and worthy of being put into the hands of every 
 youth in the- Church. Western Episcopalian. 
 34
 
 LIFE OF BISHOP WAIiWRIGHT. 
 
 BY THE KEY. J. N. NORTON. 
 
 NOTICES OF THE PRESS. 
 
 To the Church children of this" Diocese this volume will 
 prove particularly attractive. The incident related in 
 the early life of the Bishop, and his epistolary produc- 
 tions when yet a boy, will be read with interest. All our 
 young readers should procure and carefully read this 
 book. Churchman. 
 
 Mr. Norton has, we think, been more than usually suc- 
 cessful In delineating the life and character of one whose 
 memory is so fresh in the history of Churchmen. Church 
 Review. 
 
 A very interesting book, and filled with instructive in- 
 cidents. Our impression is, that Bishop Wainwright was 
 a model man and Christian. We agree with Mr. Norton 
 in his beautiful summing-up of his traits at last. Tried 
 by any just rule, he was a truly great man ; but he was 
 great on a scale of evenness and completeness, which is 
 not apt to astonish, but is most difficult to equal or imi- 
 tate. Banner of the Cross. 
 
 The friends of our late excellent Bishop will be glad to 
 welcome this interesting sketch of his life and labors! It 
 is one of a series of books adapted to the young, em- 
 bodying the lives of the Bishops of our country, and some 
 of the more prominent English Bishops. Protestant 
 Churchman. 
 
 35
 
 LIFE OF BISIIOP WAIXWRIGHT. 
 
 This is a continuation of the popular series, already so 
 favorably received by the Church. The author has been 
 enabled to enliven the earlier part of the memoir by 
 some letters written in boyhood, and which will amuse 
 children. The various letters of the Bishop to his chil- 
 dren in after-life contain, in brief and affectionate sim- 
 plicity, a world of wisdom. The interest increases as the 
 story proceeds, and culminates in that brief and busy 
 Episcopate which, in the immense amount of its labors, 
 and the solemn suddenness of its close the sharp recoil 
 of nature against severe overwork yet remains stamped 
 so strongly and so warmly in the heart of the Church. 
 
 The exquisite line-engraving portrait of the Bishop, 
 which embellishes the work, is one of the happiest like- 
 nesses of him that we have ever seen. Church Journal. 
 
 Clergy and Parish List of the Protestant Episcopal 
 Church 
 
 Itf THE UNITED STATES. 
 
 In addition to a general Clergy List, showing the Post- 
 Office address of each clergyman, this work contains a 
 Tabular List of the towns in each of the Dioceses hi which 
 there are Parishes, given alphabetically; and also the 
 name of the Church, and of the Rector, with the r umber 
 of families, and of communicants in each Parish, as far as 
 can be ascertained. A convenient and desirable work. 
 Calendar. 
 
 36
 
 CRITICAL NOTICES. 
 
 Life of Bishop Claggett, of Maryland. By Rev. 
 JOHN N. NORTON, M.A. 
 
 The Life Of Bishop GriSWOld. Second Edition. En- 
 larged. By the same Author. 
 
 The Life of Bishop White. By the same Author. 
 
 Second Edition. Enlarged. 
 
 The above-mentioned books are published by the Gen - 
 eral Protestant Episcopal Sunday School Union and 
 Church Book Society, New York, 1859. And most choice 
 books they are, too. Written or compiled by one of the 
 soundest divines of the Church, and having also the merit 
 of truth, and being most interesting narratives of the 
 lives of honored and distinguished Bishops of the Church, 
 we recommend them, as they were specially intended, to 
 every Sunday-school of the Church. 
 
 The ' ' Life of Bishop Claggett' ' was published by con- 
 tributions from the Diocese of Maryland ; has a very well 
 executed steel engraving of the Bishop ; is dedicated to 
 the Hon. Ezekiel F. Chambers, of Chestertown, Maryland ; 
 and the preface asserts that "Rev. Ethan Allen, D.D., 
 of Baltimore, has been engaged in good earnest in com- 
 piling and preparing a much larger work upon the ' Life 
 and Times of Bishop Claggett.' " 
 
 The "Life of Bishop Griswold" is an exceedingly in- 
 teresting volume, aside from its value as a biography of 
 the late Bishop ; because it sets forth, though briefly, a 
 history of what was once called the Eastern Diocese, com- 
 posed of the present dioceses of Maine, New Hampshire, 
 Vermont, Rhode Island, and Massachusetts. It has also 
 a very beautifully executed steel engraving of the Bishop. 
 
 These books are characteristic specimens of the work 
 and material of the Society which issues them, and which 
 deserves the hearty co-operation of the Church in all its 
 good works. Long may it flourish to send forth for chil- 
 dren such works, imquestionable in character, and sanc- 
 tifying in influence. Churchman. 
 37
 
 THE LIBRARIAN: 
 
 0f tt 
 
 General Protestant Episcopal Sunday School Union 
 and Church Book Society. 
 
 An excellent, and we think it will hereafter be re- 
 garded an indispensable, book of reference. It gives an 
 alphabetical list of all the subjects treated of in the books 
 issued by the Society, with reference to the volume in 
 which each subject is considered. This is followed by a 
 list of the names of the authors of the various books, so 
 far as known ; then a list of the illustrations ; an alpha- 
 betical and numerical catalogue. The whole concludes 
 with a list of the books of instruction published by the 
 Society. Gospel Messenger. 
 
 This book is much more than is indicated by its title. 
 It contains an index of subjects in the various publica- 
 tions of the Society, and in what volume each may be 
 found ; a list of the authors and illustrations ; an alpha- 
 betical and numerical catalogue of the Society's books, 
 and also books of instruction and Sunday-school requisites 
 in general. It is valuable for S. S. teachers and pastors ; 
 and every librarian of a parish or S. S. library ought to 
 have it for constant reference. Calendar. 
 38
 
 jt 
 
 FROM THE WOODS OF CAEOLOA. 
 
 MESSES. EDITORS Among the many beautiful presents 
 to gladden the hearts of our children at this happy sea- 
 son, I know of none having as strong a claim on an in- 
 habitant of this State, and especially of this city, as the 
 volume entitled ' ' A Wreath from the Woods of Caro- 
 lina." 
 
 The design of the work and the literary matter are by 
 a lady of this city, whose genius, manifest to all in this 
 production, and evinced to her friends in several depart- 
 ments of the arts, not all the cares of a large family and 
 a responsible position have been able to repress ; while 
 another lady of this city has furnished the colored draw- 
 ings from which the beautiful flowers have been engraved. 
 
 The author has presented the fruit of her labors to the 
 Church Book Society. It is therefore on her part an 
 offering of piety, as well as of taste and talent, to swell 
 the amount of the good and beautiful things of the season. 
 
 The Society have shown their sense of the value of the 
 gift by the expense and pains which they have bestowed 
 upon the volume. Its paper, type, and above all, exquisite 
 representations of the flowers, make the book a treasure 
 in its externals. 
 
 But, after all, the stories for the children constitute its 
 chief attraction and merit. The style is singularly clear 
 and animated ; the spirit is the spirit of love and cheerful 
 piety ; the lessons are wise, yet admirably adapted to 
 children ; and the whole is suggestive of the brightness 
 and fragrance and freshness of the woods themselves, in 
 a charming morning of May. 
 
 Let all the friends of the young see that their little 
 favorites have among their Christian treasures ' ' A Wreath 
 from the Woods of Carolina." From ihe Raleigh (North 
 Cardinal Standard. 
 
 39
 
 BOOK NOTICES. 
 
 JUVENILE BOOKS. 
 
 ' ' Juveniles' ' are the most taking books just now. The 
 Rev. F. D. Ilurriman, agent of the Protestant Episcopal 
 Sunday School Union, has recently published some seven 
 or eight, which the little folks, male and female, are much 
 pleased with. The two largest are " Bessie Melville" and 
 " Sidney Grey," very neat 16mo volumes. The story of 
 Bessie, though simple and unpretending, is charmingly 
 entertaining ; its excellent lessons are rendered so attract- 
 ive that the most indolent and thoughtless can hardly 
 fail to profit by them. The main object of the book is to 
 show how prayer-book instructions may be practiced in 
 the ordinary transactions of life an object which, so far 
 as I can pretend to judge, is successfully carried out. 
 "Sidney Grey" is designed chiefly for boys. It contains 
 incidents enough for a "sensation" novel; but they are 
 not treated in the sensation style. Not but those most 
 commonplace are invested with an interest which many a 
 pretentious romance-writer of the present day would en- 
 deavor in vain to impart to his most elaborately got up 
 "scenes." " Mia and Charlie" is by the same author 
 a charming story, or rather series of stories, for the young. 
 The account which the pretty little book gives of a week's 
 holiday at the Bydale Rectory is lively, entertaining, and 
 instructive in no ordinary degree. It has caused many a 
 bright, happy smile since the holidays commenced ; and 
 it is worth reading at any time. In this hurried chat I 
 can only mention "The Boy Missionary," "The Life of 
 Bishop Wainwright," "The Life of George Herbert," 
 4 'The Life of Bishop Ravenscroft," and "The Tortoise- 
 Shell Comb." Each tiny "Life" is embellished with a 
 handsome portrait. Newark Daily Advertiser. 
 40
 
 BOOK NOTICES. 
 
 BESSY MELVILLE; 
 
 Or, Prayer-Book Instructions Carried Out Into Life, 
 
 A SEQUEL TO "THE LITTLE EPISCOPALIAN." 
 
 BY M. A. C. 
 
 The title of this very handsome volume gives a good 
 idea of its character. "Bessy's" story, though simple 
 and unpretending, is replete with that kind of instruction 
 which it is essential that all Christian children should re- 
 ceive in one form or other ; and what is more, its lessons 
 are rendered so attractive that the most indolent and 
 thoughtless of our little friends will find pleasure in 
 learning them. The author possesses the rare faculty of 
 combining the useful with the agreeable, and at the same 
 time writes in pure, correct English, which is more than 
 could be said of many pretentious novelists of the present 
 day. The book is well printed, and tastefully bound in 
 muslin. Philadelphia, Daily News. 
 
 MIA AND CHARLIE; 
 
 OR, 
 
 A WEEK'S HOLIDAY AT THE BYDALE RECTORY, 
 
 Is another illustrated, instructive book, from the same 
 press. It is sufficient to say that it is worthy of both. 
 Indeed, it has seldom been our privilege to examine a 
 volume better calculated to coax children to be sensible, 
 religious, and good. Boys and girls will be equally 
 pleased with it, and we recommend it accordingly. Phil- 
 adelphia Daily News. 
 
 41
 
 BO )K NOTICES. 
 
 Sidney Grey. A Tale of School Life. By the author 
 of "Mia and Charlie," 
 
 Is a good, entertaining, useful book for boys. It contains 
 sufficient incidents for a modern romance, but they are 
 not of the "intense" kind. On the contrary, they are 
 generally of ordinary character, such as are constantly 
 occurring around us ; but those most commonplace are 
 invested with a degree of interest which is in itself a 
 charm. "Sydney Grey," however, is no baby's book. 
 Indeed, there are not many adults who would not find its 
 teachings profitable. The style of the narrative is chaste, 
 lively, and graphic, the typography is excellent, and the 
 binding at once neat and substantial. Nor must we omit 
 to tell the little folks that they will also be pleased with 
 the illustrations in " Sydney Grey." There are no better 
 safeguards against Popery than books of this kind. 
 Philadelphia Daily News. 
 
 The Boy Missionary. By MRS. JEXXY MARSH PARKER. 
 
 This is another little volume which is destined to do 
 much good, for it is so written that it will be read with 
 avidity by those for whose benefit it is intended. The 
 story of Davie Hall is full of wholesome encouragement, 
 and can not fail to make an impression. 
 
 The Episcopal Church Book Society have also recently 
 published "The Life of Bishop Wainwright," "The Life 
 of George Herbert," "The Life of Bishop Ravenscroft," 
 and "The Tortoise-Shell Comb," all of which are well 
 suited for children. Each tiny "Life" is embellished 
 with a fine portrait, and ought to find a place in the 
 juvenile library of every Protestant family. Philaddfbia 
 Daily Newt. 
 
 42
 
 life at 6mge fntat 
 
 BY GEORGE L. DUYCKINCK. 
 New York, 1S5S : pp. 197. 
 
 WE have too long neglected to do our share in bringing 
 this delightful little book to the notice of the lovers of 
 holy George Herbert, among whom we may safely reckon 
 a large number of the readers of the ' ' Atlantic. " It is 
 based on the life by Izaak Walton, but contains much new 
 matter, either out of Walton's reach or beyond the range 
 of his sympathy. 
 
 Notices are given of Nicholas Ferrar and other friends 
 of Herbert. There is a -very agreeable sketch of Bemertou 
 and its neighborhood, as it now is, and the neat illustra- 
 tions are of the kind that really illustrate. The Brothers 
 Duyckinck are well known for their unpretentious and 
 valuable labors in the cause of good letters and American 
 literary history, and this is precisely such a book as we 
 should expect from the taste, scholarship, and purity of 
 mind which distinguish both of them. It is much the 
 best account of Herbert with which we are acquainted. 
 Atlantic Monthly. 
 
 43
 
 f if* 0f Si 
 
 BY THE REV. J. N. NORTON 
 
 THB memoir of this Boston boy (son of a New England 
 Congregationalist preacher, who afterwards took orders in 
 the Church and died in South Carolina, where his more 
 celebrated son afterwards became Bishop) is not marked 
 by any very striking incident, but breathes everywhere 
 the quiet firmness, the affectionate nature, the sober and 
 steady principles, the meek and humble spirit of its sub- 
 ject. His warm friendship for Bishop Hobart led to a long 
 continued correspondence, some specimens of which are 
 inserted in this memoir. Church Journal. 
 
 These biographies of the Bishops are all interesting. 
 Southern Churchman. 
 
 Another and very interesting addition to the several 
 memoirs of our Bishops which Mr. Norton has been dili- 
 gently preparing and sending through the press. The 
 peculiar energy displayed by the subject of this memoir, 
 while, a child of eight years, he crossed the river from 
 John's Island to Charleston in a boat, and, by his earnest 
 pleading, obtained the services of a physician for his dying 
 father, continued to mark him through life, united to the 
 tenderness and ready sympathy which formed so import- 
 ant an element of his piety and his usefulness. Protestant 
 Churchman. 
 
 44
 
 CRITICAL NOTICES. 
 
 A most perfect character, well drawn out, and shown in 
 various colors, conspiring to complete the picture of a 
 righteous man. The volume is one of the most attractive 
 of the series. Mr. Norton is determined that Bishops shall 
 be remembered, and no good of them be lost. Banner of 
 the Cross. 
 
 A person might be induced to read the life of this 
 Bishop, not only because of its literary source, but because 
 of the resemblance in the portrait attached to the ener- 
 getic Bishop Philander Chase. Mr. Norton has worked 
 into this memoir much general information in the history 
 of the Church during the life- time of Bishop Bowcn, and 
 some valuable thoughts on incidental subjects. Calendar. 
 
 This is an interesting and truthful sketch of one whose 
 memory is warmly cherished in our diocese, and whose 
 character and attainments were such as to make him one 
 of the men of mark in our Church. The material for the 
 biography has been well worked up by Mr. Norton, and 
 the interest of the volume is much increased by the intro- 
 duction of some graphic reminiscences by the Rev. Paul 
 Trapier, and extracts from some of the Bishop's own letters 
 when travelling in Europe. 
 
 The quiet dignity, mild benevolence, and general con- 
 scrvativeness of the Bishop's character are properly delin- 
 eated, and justice is done to the earnestness of his Episco- 
 pate and the tender faithfulness of his pastoral intercourse. 
 Southern Episcopalian. 
 
 45
 
 
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