THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 Rare Book Room 
 GIFT OF 
 
 John W. Beckman 
 
. 
 
 University of California Berkeley 
 
HERBERT ATHERTON, 
 
 OR 
 
 SOWING BESIDE ALL WATERS 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF 
 
 'WREATHS AND BEANCHES FOR THE CHURCH," 
 "CONSECRATED TALENTS," &G. 
 
 ' Where the little brook is flowing, 
 Where the mighty river rolls, 
 
 Bless'd are ye, in patience sowing, 
 For the harvest day of souls." 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 <en< ;tfrot. JJjpfscojpal <S. S, Pinion anTl 
 
 DEPOSITORY 637 BROADWAY. 
 
Entered according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1853, by JOHN W. 
 MITCHELL (as Treasurer of the Gen. Prot. Episcopal S. S. Union and Church 
 Book Society), in the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the Southern 
 District of New York. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Chapter. 
 
 I. Morning Service at St. Philip's Church 6 
 
 II. The Senior Warden and his Family 24 
 
 IIL Professional Duties and Private Feelings. 42 
 
 IV. The World and the Church 61 
 
 V. The Unexpected Meeting 76 
 
 VI An Experiment 88 
 
 VII. A Gleam of Sunshine 105 
 
 VIII. An Experiment 120 
 
 IX. Disappointed Hopes , 184 
 
 X. The Widow's Son 149 
 
 XL An Invalid, and a Voyage 166 
 
 XII. Convalescence 181 
 
 XIII. Holmwood Rectory 194 
 
HERBERT ATHERTON. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 MORNING SERVICE AT ST. PHILIP'S CHURCH. 
 
 " Within the Temple's very gates, 
 We hear the world's tumultuous roar." 
 
 IT was a pleasant morning in May, when a 
 young man of interesting appearance paused be 
 fore one of the principal churches in a large city. 
 
 " Can you tell me whether there will be service 
 here to-day ?" he asked, addressing a coachman, 
 who was seated upon the box of a carriage which 
 was standing in front of the gate. The equipage 
 was one of uncommon elegance, a low, dark 
 chariot of the most graceful form, drawn by 
 black horses, the sombre appearance of the whole 
 being only relieved by the silver mounting of the 
 harness, and the richly cut lanterns. The coach 
 man was in perfect keeping, being an undistin- 
 guishable mass of blackness, excepting the broad 
 silver band around his bell-crowned hat. His 
 manner, too, was an attempt at superior polite- 
 
6 HERBERT ATHERTON. 
 
 ness, as lie said, in reply to the inquiry of the 
 stranger, 
 
 "Certainly, sir, there is always service here 
 every day at eleven o'clock ;" and it was evident 
 that he belonged to some family who considered 
 it a virtue to be well posted up in church affairs. 
 
 " Thank you," said the questioner politely, as 
 he entered the gate. It was still very early, for 
 there was no one in the church but the party 
 that had just alighted from the carriage without, 
 and the sexton, who was busy in removing the 
 benches, with which he had barricaded the en 
 trance to the middle aisle. 
 
 " How provoking I" exclaimed one of the ladies, 
 as she looked at an elegant little watch, to which 
 dozens of small trinkets were suspended. "It 
 is fifteen minutes to eleven, and we might have 
 spent that time in shopping, instead of wasting 
 it here." 
 
 The light tone in which these words were 
 spoken evidently grated on the ear of the new 
 comer, for he looked after the tall elegant wo 
 man, as she walked haughtily up the aisle, with 
 a glance of mingled pity and disapprobation, as 
 if he thought it would require a much longer 
 preparation to fit her heart for the service of that 
 God who must be worshipped in spirit and in 
 
HERBERT ATHERTON. 7 
 
 truth. And then, turning to the sexton, he said 
 in a low voice, " Will you have the kindness to 
 tell the clergyman that a person desires to re 
 turn thanks for recovery from sickness ? I find 
 that I have dropped the notice which I wrote to 
 that effect." 
 
 The church was so frequented by strangers, 
 that it had become necessary to place a row of 
 seats in the centre of each aisle, which were wide 
 enough for the accommodation of two persons ; 
 and to one of these, in the neighborhood of the 
 chancel, the young man slowly directed his steps, 
 and kneeling before it with the deepest rever 
 ence, became lost in devotion. He did not 
 notice that the church was rapidly filling, or that 
 no one besides, occupying the seats in the aisle, 
 assumed the posture to which from childhood 
 he had become accustomed. He only felt that 
 after months of trial and sickness, he was again 
 allowed to enter the house of his heavenly Father, 
 which anywhere and under all circumstances 
 was regarded as his dearest home. When, at 
 last, he rose from his knees with his face glow 
 ing with emotion, he perceived a lad of about 
 ten years old standing by him, who said, as he 
 held the door of an adjacent pew open, " Mother 
 wishes to know if you will sit with us. The seats 
 
8 HEKBEBT ATHEKTON. 
 
 are more comfortable, and there is plenty of room." 
 The offer was gratefully accepted, as there was 
 only a middle-aged lady in dark mourning, and 
 two little girls occupying the seat, to which he 
 was so kindly invited. 
 
 When the services commenced, a clear, deep 
 voice was heard, pitched slightly above the rest, 
 and occasionally reading, by mistake, some of 
 the responses of the clergyman, as if the speaker 
 were more accustomed to leading, than joining 
 in the devotions of a congregation. There was 
 a deep fervency also observable in the manner 
 in which he pronounced the "Amen" at the end 
 of each prayer, and especially of that for re 
 covery from sickness, which arrested the atten 
 tion of the lady in whose pew he was seated. 
 When the services were over, she was struck 
 with the self-forgetfulness apparent in the length 
 of his concluding prayer, and wondered what 
 circumstances gave such peculiar earnestness to 
 the stranger's whole manner and bearing. 
 
 At the door of the church, the young man 
 paused, and turning to his courteous hostess, 
 thanked her gracefully for her politeness, and 
 asked if she could inform him whether Dr. 
 Welford, the Rector of Christ Church, were at 
 in the cit? 
 
HEKBEKT ATHEBTON. 9 
 
 " I am sorry to say I do not know," she re 
 plied ; " but I have been absent from town for 
 many months, and only came back yesterday." 
 Her face, which was deeply marked by sorrow, 
 became additionally sad at these words, as if 
 melancholy associations were attached to the 
 absence of which she spoke, but she added 
 quickly, " Oh, there is Mr. Melville, he is the 
 senior warden of Dr. Welford's church, and can 
 give you any information with regard to his 
 movements which you may desire." 
 
 " Thank you," said the clergyman with more 
 warmth than the occasion seemed exactly to de 
 mand, but there are times when a few kind 
 words are of unspeakable value. 
 
 The gentleman, to whom his attention was 
 directed appeared to the stranger more pretend 
 ing than attractive. He was a tall portly man, 
 with gold spectacles, and a gold-headed cane, 
 and his self-complacent face was slightly rubi 
 cund, either from English descent, or a moderate 
 indulgence in very excellent wine. In reply to 
 the politely uttered question, " Can you tell me, 
 sir, whether Dr. Welford is absent from home ?" 
 
 He only said stiffly, " He has been away for 
 two months, sir," without deigning to glance at 
 the interrogator. 
 
10 HERBERT ATHERTON. 
 
 " Do you know how soon he may be expected 
 to return ?" asked the young man, without seem 
 ing at all annoyed by the haughtiness of his 
 companion. 
 
 " Not for some time," replied Mr. Melville, in 
 the same cool tone, adding, " Excuse me, sir, I 
 am in haste. The sexton will give you any fur 
 ther information which you may desire." 
 
 "I beg your pardon," was the reply, in a 
 peculiarly gentle, yet self-respectful voice. " I was 
 told that you were the senior warden of this 
 church, and concluded that you would be able 
 to give me the most reliable intelligence with re 
 gard to its rector." 
 
 For the first time, Mr. Melville glanced towards 
 his companion, and his manner in an instant 
 changed ; for he saw, at once, that he was a 
 gentleman and a clergyman. " You must excuse 
 me, sir," he said, " but we are so often pestered 
 by inquisitive strangers, that I have got in the 
 way of answering very abruptly. Dr. "Welford 
 went to Europe in March, and will not return 
 till August. I presume he is an acquaintance of 
 yours ?" 
 
 " A very dear friend," was the reply, " and I 
 cannot express my disappointment at finding him 
 absent from the city." 
 
HERBERT ATHERTON. 11 
 
 " Will you tell me, sir, your name, that I may 
 inform him on his return of your regret at not 
 meeting him here ?" asked Mr. Melville. 
 
 " Herbert Atherton," said the stranger, mod 
 estly. 
 
 "Ah!" exclaimed Mr. Melville. "Then you 
 are the gentleman whose fine sermons have re 
 cently been going the rounds of the church 
 papers. I am happy to make your acquaint 
 ance." 
 
 The compliment was only acknowledged by a 
 faint smile. As they were now at the gate, be 
 fore which the chariot was standing, which Mr. 
 Atherton had noticed on entering the church, Mr. 
 Melville said hastily, 
 
 " I must bid you good morning, sir, for my 
 wife and children are waiting for me to drive 
 with them to a matinee, to which they are en 
 gaged. Here is my card, and I wish you would 
 waive all ceremony and dine with me to-mor 
 row." 
 
 " If my health will permit, I will do so with 
 pleasure," rejoined Mr. Atherton ; and then Mr. 
 Melville took his seat in the most unexception 
 able of carriages, and with a polite bow drove 
 off. 
 
 The vounsr clergrvrnan followed the retreatin^ 
 
12 HERBERT ATHERTOH. 
 
 vehicle with a thoughtful eye, for a vision passed 
 before his mind of our Saviour's entrance into 
 Jerusalem, and the humility which marked his 
 earthly condition. Luxury was peculiarly grate 
 ful to his own refined taste, but he had been led 
 to think that Christian self-denial required the 
 renunciation of much that was pleasing to the 
 carnal man, and involuntarily murmuring, " the 
 servant is not above his Lord," he slowly walked 
 away in an opposite direction. Yet, ten minutes 
 afterwards, Herbert Atherton entered a shop re 
 splendent with magnificent articles of jewelry, 
 and thronged with admiring customers. But it 
 was not as a purchaser that he went thither ; on the 
 contrary, he wished to dispose of the only article 
 of much value that he possessed in the world. 
 
 " Will you tell me, sir," he asked, addressing 
 the oldest man behind Mr. Walker's counter, 
 " what is the value of this watch," handing him 
 at the same time a plain, but most excellent, re 
 peater. 
 
 " It is a very fine watch," replied Mr. Walker, 
 examining the works with evident satisfaction ; 
 " it is fully worth a hundred and fifty dollars." 
 
 " Could you loan me, then, that sum upon it f' 
 asked Mr. Atherton in a low tone, but without 
 nny appearance of mortification. 
 
HERBERT ATHERTON. 13 
 
 " We do not keep a pawn-broker's shop," were 
 the words which rose to Mr. Walker's lips, but a 
 second glance at the stranger prevented their ut 
 terance. " You are a clergyman, sir, are you 
 not ?" he asked, in some surprise. 
 
 "I am," he replied; "and have been very ill 
 among strangers," he added in a tone of deep 
 sadness. 
 
 " Then take back your watch, sir : I will lend 
 you the sum you wish without any such pledge : 
 your profession is a sufficient guarantee for your 
 honesty, and I shall be happy to oblige you." 
 
 Mr. Atherton did not extend his hand for the 
 repeater, but said, " JSTo, no, keep it, for I am 
 still very unwell, and do not know what may hap 
 pen to me." 
 
 " Well ! remember it is subject to your order 
 at any time," said Mr. Walker, kindly. " Here, 
 take this seat, while I make out a check for the 
 sum you wish. There is no hurry about return 
 ing it : keep it as a gift if you cannot repay it as 
 a loan." 
 
 " From my heart I thank you," was the warm 
 reply, as Herbert took the proffered check, and 
 giving Mr. Walker his card, in return, left the 
 shop. 
 
 While this conversation was taking place, the 
 
14: HERBKKT ATHEETON. 
 
 same lady who had offered a seat to the stranger 
 was standing at a counter opposite, and examin 
 ing some mourning brooches. A few words only 
 had reached her ears ; but the moment the door 
 of the shop closed, she stepped to Mr. Walker 
 and desired to know the name of that pale, inter 
 esting man. He handed her the card, and the 
 instant that she saw the name, she turned to her 
 little son, and said with much emotion, " Frank, 
 that was Mr. Atherton, who was so kind to your 
 dear father ; run after him, and say that I wish 
 to speak to him directly." 
 
 The lady had hardly recovered her self-com 
 mand when Frank returned with Mr. Atherton, 
 who looked inquiringly towards her, as if won 
 dering what could be her will. 
 
 " Mr. Atherton," she said with great agitation, 
 " my name is Waterford, and Mr. George Water- 
 ford, whom you knew in Havana, was my-" 
 
 She could say no more ; but Mr. Atherton 
 easily divined the remainder of the sentence, and 
 extended his hand towards her with an expression 
 of deep sympathy. 
 
 " Let me drive you to your lodging," she con 
 tinued," for you look very feeble, and on our way 
 thither, I can say what I wish. Frank, tell the 
 coachman to draw up to the pavement," 
 
HERBERT ATHERTON. 15 
 
 Mr. Atherton was too sensible of his own in 
 creasing weakness to refuse this kind offer, and 
 followed his new friend to an unpretending look 
 ing carriage which was in attendance, and where 
 her two little girls were already seated. 
 
 '* Where shall I set you down ?" asked Mrs. 
 Waterford, as the coachman stood waiting for 
 orders. 
 
 " At the Marine Hotel, Water-street," he re 
 plied in a faint tone, for his strength was rapidly 
 giving way. 
 
 " Marine Hotel ! where is that ?" asked Mrs. 
 Waterford, with some surprise, and then added 
 quickly, " Have you any friends there with you, 
 or any lady who will take care of you on your 
 return?" 
 
 " No, I am alone, all alone," he answered 
 mournfully, for illness rendered him keenly alive 
 to his own desolate condition. 
 
 " Home, James, drive directly home," said the 
 lady, with sudden resolution. " You must con 
 sent to be my prisoner," she said, turning kindly 
 to the poor invalid ; " it would be an unchristian 
 act to lose sight of any one to whom I am under 
 such obligations, without being sure that they 
 would be properly attended to : you must posi 
 tively be very quiet for the present." 
 
16 HERBERT ATHERTON. 
 
 Mr. Atherton could only smile his thanks ; but 
 he felt indescribably relieved at the idea that some 
 one was taking charge of him, and carrying him 
 to a private dwelling. 
 
 Not another word was said till the carriage 
 stopped at the door of a large, but plain-looking 
 house, in a retired part of the city. 
 
 " Now, get out first, Frank," said Mrs. Water- 
 ford, " and hold the horses for James, so that he 
 can come and help Mr. Atherton up the steps, 
 for I see he is perfectly exhausted." 
 
 Frank obeyed instantly, and James, who 
 seemed to have imbibed the spirit of his mistress, 
 tenderly assisted the young man into the house, 
 and laid him gently on a couch in one corner of 
 a large, comfortable-looking parlor. His energies 
 were so completely prostrated by a long illness, 
 that he felt nothing but an indefinite sense of re 
 lief at being so kindly cared for, and hardly 
 moved till he heard a pleasant voice saying, 
 
 " Here, Mr. Atherton, take this glass of wine, 
 and try and swallow a biscuit : you need some 
 refreshment." 
 
 Thus incited, he took slowly the mild Port 
 which Mrs. Waterford offered, and then falling 
 back upon the couch, dropped into a sweet sleep, 
 from which he did not awake for some hours. 
 
HERBERT ATHERTON. r < 
 
 As soon as Mrs. Waterford saw that her guest 
 was peacefully slumbering, she threw a warm 
 shawl over him, and going into the next room, 
 which was occupied as a library, summoned the 
 coachman thither, and sent him to the Marine 
 Hotel, with orders to bring back every thing there 
 that belonged to Mr. Atherton. He returned in 
 half an hour, with a countenance of extreme mor 
 tification, and informed her that the hotel-keeper 
 had called Mr. Atherton a swindler, and would 
 not let him have any of his clothes till his bill 
 was fully paid. 
 
 "Poor fellow," exclaimed Mrs. Waterford, 
 with an expression of sincere pity, and then she 
 seemed lost in deep thought. "Call Frank 
 here," she said at length ; and when her son ap 
 peared, she told him that he must go with James 
 back to the Marine Hotel, and attend to some 
 business for her there as well as he possibly 
 could. 
 
 ' You know you are my only reliance now, 
 Frank," she said sadly ; "and you must learn to 
 be of use. Ask the hotel-keeper politely for Mr. 
 Atherton's account ; then take this blank check, 
 and fill it up with the sum total of the bill ren~ 
 dered ; next ask him to, give you a receipt, and 
 every thing belonging to Mr. Atherton, and hand 
 
18 HERBERT ATHERTON. 
 
 him the check in return. You must not get an- 
 gry if he speaks disrespectfully of your father's 
 friend, for he does not know what an excellent 
 man he is." 
 
 Frank readily promised to do just what his 
 mother wished, for he was very ambitious of being 
 considered her protector, and fitted by nature to 
 become such in reality. He returned in an hour 
 accompanied by James, bringing back in triumph 
 all Mr. Atherton's luggage, which was immediate- 
 ly placed in the convenient room which had been, 
 in the mean time, prepared for his reception. 
 
 " E"ow, Frank," said his mother, " go gently to 
 the parlor, and sit there quietly till Mr. Atherton 
 awakes, and then, if he is strong enough to walk, 
 show him to his room ; but if not, call Peter to 
 give him his arm." 
 
 " Or help him myself," said Frank, with quite 
 an important air. 
 
 The young lad had been reading beside the 
 sleeping invalid for nearly an hour, when he un 
 closed his eyes, and looking around, he dreamily 
 asked, 
 
 " "Who are you, my little boy, and where am 
 I?" 
 
 " I am Frank Waterford, sir," he said eagerly, 
 " and you are in my mother's house, where every 
 
HERBERT ATHERTON. 19 
 
 body loves you, because you were kind to dear 
 papa when he was so ill." 
 
 "Ah! I remember now," said the stranger, 
 with returning animation, and then closing his 
 eyes, thanked the God of all goodness for provi 
 ding him with so pleasant an asylum. 
 
 Frank did not like to disturb* him, for his face 
 had a very solemn expression, and his lips moved 
 involuntarily, as he uttered his heartfelt thanks 
 giving. 
 
 " Now, sir," said Frank, as the visitor again 
 unclosed his eyes, " will you go to your room ?" 
 
 Mr. Atherton looked as if he were almost un 
 willing to move, for fear he should break the 
 charm, but a moment after he rose with some ef 
 fort, and followed Frank to the pleasant-looking 
 apartment which he was requested to consider as 
 his own. 
 
 The little boy closed the door behind him, 
 when Mr. Atherton discovered that all his lug 
 gage had been transported thither, and saw upon 
 the table the receipted bill for his expenses at the 
 hotel. No mortification followed this discovery ; 
 for, though most independent in spirit, the young 
 clergyman felt that there was nothing in his 
 present condition for which he ought to blush, 
 as it was the result of providential circumstances, 
 
20 HERBERT ATHKRTON. 
 
 over which he had no control. What an exem 
 plification was here of the truth of the promise, 
 " Cast thy bread upon the waters, and thou shalt 
 find it after many days !" 
 
 Two years since, Mr. "Waterford had arrived 
 in Havana, sick and a stranger. Mr. Atherton 
 was introduced to his acquaintance by their mu 
 tual friend, Dr. Welford, and had nursed him 
 through a long and painful illness, with all the 
 tenderness of a brother. His only fear now was 
 that his kind hostess might inconvenience herself 
 by her recent generosity; but he remembered 
 that his late friend was thought to be a gentle 
 man of wealth, and every thing about the estab 
 lishment bespoke comfort and ease, though per- 
 fectly free from all attempt at display. 
 
 The grateful stranger could find no rest till he 
 had poured out his feelings in prayer to Him to 
 whom his joys and sorrows, hopes and fears, were 
 always confided with child-like simplicity. When 
 he had thus relieved his burdened heart, he 
 descended to the parlor with a countenance 
 beaming with gratitude and contentment. Mrs. 
 Waterford advanced to meet him, looking much 
 delighted at the change in his appearance. 
 
 " I should be overwhelmed by my obligations 
 to you," he said warmly, as he took her offered 
 
HERBERT ATHEKTON. 21 
 
 hand, "if I did not remember the words of our 
 Lord Jesus Christ, how he said, ' it is more bless 
 ed to give than to receive.' I am sure that what 
 you have done for me this day has filled your 
 heart with the purest satisfaction." 
 
 "Indeed.it has," she replied with earnest sin 
 cerity. " Nothing has given me so much pleas 
 ure for many months. But how long have you 
 been in the city, and why did you not make 
 known your arrival to some of the clergy who are 
 already well acquainted with you by reputation ?" 
 
 " Because I was taken ill the very night of my 
 arrival. I had been settled in Havana three 
 years, when my health gave way, and the physi 
 cians prescribed a more bracing climate, as my 
 only hope. They agreed that the latitude of this 
 city would be more favorable, and I wrote to 
 Dr. Welford to inquire whether he thought I 
 could be useful in his vicinity. He informed me 
 in reply, that there was no doubt of my obtain 
 ing immediate occupation, either in preaching, 
 teaching, or editorship, and thus encouraged, I 
 resolved to make the experiment. For economy's 
 sake, I took passage in a merchant ship, which 
 had a long and tedious passage ; and for the 
 same reason, I engaged a room at the Marine 
 Hotel. I had been in the city only a few hours 
 
22 HERBERT ATHERTON. 
 
 when I felt the symptoms of a violent fever, and 
 before midnight, was quite out of my senses. 
 The captain of the vessel, who was lodging at 
 the same house, showed me the most devoted 
 attention, while he remained ; but he was obliged 
 to sail in about three weeks, and could only com 
 mend me to the care of two old sailors, who 
 nursed rne most faithfully during the remainder 
 of my illness. Yesterday, for the first time, I 
 left my room to offer my thanksgiving for the 
 mercy vouchsafed to me, and to try and discover 
 Dr. Welford's residence. The rest of my busi 
 ness you must have learned, and I think you 
 will allow me to transfer to you Mr. Walker's 
 check, in return for the sum you have just ex 
 pended in my behalf." 
 
 " I shall do no such thing," she replied warm 
 ly. " Are you going to cheat me of the pleasure 
 which you acknowledged I manifested in per 
 forming that little act? Frank shall take the 
 check back to Mr. Walker, and bring your 
 watch, for it is an article which a gentleman 
 misses every hour. No thanks ! Remember I 
 am only paying my just debts, and allow me to 
 consider you as my oldest son for the present. 
 Here comes Peter to summon us to dinner. 
 You must need something more substantial, and 
 
HERBERT ATHERTON. 23 
 
 by and by you shall tell me all that I wish to 
 know, with regard to your past history, and 
 your connection with iny lamented husband." 
 
 Mr. Atherton was incapable of replying. The 
 tears which filled his eyes were not unbecoming 
 a man, for they bespoke the gratitude of a noble 
 heart. 
 
24. HKRBERT ATHERTOSN 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE SENIOR WARDEN AND HIS FAMILY. 
 
 "Look ye, brethren, choose ye out 
 
 Holy men of good report, 
 Filled with wisdom, zeal, and grace, 
 
 These shall serve the outer court. '* 
 
 THE night succeeding the events related in the 
 last chapter, Herbert Atherton dreamed of his 
 departed mother. He thought that she stole 
 gently to his bed, and whispered in tones of 
 silvery clearness, " Keep thyself unspotted from 
 the world." She had died when he was very- 
 young, and since that time, he had been quite 
 unused to feminine care and tenderness; and 
 that which he was now receiving touched his 
 very heart. On going down stairs the following 
 morning, the young clergyman found the family 
 assembled for prayers. Mrs. Waterford con 
 gratulated him warmly on the beneficial effects 
 of the night's rest, and then requested him to 
 conduct their usual devotions. He consented to 
 do so with glad alacrity, for to pray with those 
 he loved was one of his sweetest pleasures ; and 
 
HERBERT ATHERTON. 25 
 
 he never felt that any friendship was complete 
 till it had been thus cemented. There was a 
 beautiful solemnity in his manner of conducting 
 such exercises, from his entire forgetfulness of 
 any presence, save that of his Maker, and even 
 the children were unconsciously impressed with 
 his deep sincerity. When he had finished, in 
 stead of feeling as if they were removed farther 
 from him by his ministerial office, they were 
 irresistibly drawn to his side. Little, curly- 
 haired Fanny, the youngest child, was quite 
 ready to sit on his knee, if Mrs. Waterford had 
 not insisted that she should not presume so far 
 on the kindness of a recent invalid, and Mary 
 put her arms around his neck, as confidingly as 
 if it had been her mother's. 
 
 How pleasant and home-like that library with 
 its caressing inmates seemed to the lonely 
 stranger, and how different from the dreary 
 room which he had occupied for so many weeks ! 
 
 When the informal breakfast was over, Mrs. 
 Waterford said with politeness, "Do not wait 
 for me, but go into the library and entertain 
 yourself, Mr. Atherton. I always superintend 
 the putting away of these things, but I will be 
 with you in half an hour." 
 
 " You will think it droll, perhaps," said Her- 
 
26 HERBERT ATHERTON; 
 
 bert, half laughing, " if I ask to stay and watch 
 your operations ; but I can't help wishing to do 
 so. If you will only let me sit down in that 
 comfortable chair and chat with you, while you 
 are thus employed, it would be a real pleasure. 
 I have lived so much in boarding-houses that I 
 have seen little of domestic life, and though 
 often visiting in private families, I do not think 
 I ever saw any one perform this little feminine 
 duty but my mother." 
 
 The last words were uttered in a sadder tone, 
 and Mrs. Waterford immediately replied cordi 
 ally, " Do so by all means : I like some one to 
 chat with me while my hands are thus occu 
 pied. You may run up stairs, children. Don't 
 get so fond of Mr. Atherton that you are never 
 willing to leave him." 
 
 The children did, indeed, appear quite reluc 
 tant to tear themselves away from their new 
 friend ; but they were accustomed to implicit obe 
 dience, and left without a murmur* 
 
 " I half engaged to dine with the Mr. Melville 
 whom you pointed out to me. "Was it yester 
 day? it seems to me much longer." 
 
 " It does, indeed^" said the lady, " but our 
 long talk, last evening, has made us feel like old 
 friends. When the heart's inmost recesses have 
 
HERBERT ATHERTON. 27 
 
 been opened to another, it can never again be 
 closed. There is a tie between us, which ought 
 to make us forget that we were ever stran 
 gers." 
 
 "I will try and remember it no more," was 
 Herbert's grateful reply, "I wish you had 
 known my mother," he said, after a slight pause ; 
 " she was the purest of spirits. My father died 
 when I was only a year old ; and while she lived 
 I was rarely out of her sight. I never knew her 
 to do any act, merely because it was customary, 
 of which her conscience did not approve; and 
 she formed her own opinion on every subject, 
 with no other guide but that Spirit which she 
 daily implored to give her a c right judgment in 
 all things.' " 
 
 This observation gave Mrs. "Waterford a clue 
 to the uncommon directness and single-minded- 
 ness of the young clergyman, but she only ob 
 served, " The memory of such a mother is the 
 most precious of legacies." 
 
 " It is my only inheritance," he replied warmly, 
 " and I would not exchange it for all this world 
 could give." 
 
 There was a pause in the conversation for a 
 few moments, while Mrs. Waterford gave some 
 orders to the servant, and placed the table silver 
 
28 HEEBEET ATHEETON. 
 
 in a large wicker basket, which was its usual 
 resting place. 
 
 " How happened it," she asked abruptly, as if 
 the question had just entered her mind, " that 
 Mr. Melville asked you to dine there to-day ? 
 He must have known something of you pre 
 viously, or he would not have ventured upon 
 such a step." 
 
 "He was aware that I was a friend of Dr. 
 Welford's. Does he live far from here ?" 
 
 " Quite a distance," she replied ; " but I have 
 to drive up town, and can set you down with 
 the greatest ease. He will not dine till six 
 o'clock." 
 
 "Was the gayly-dressed person that I saw 
 with him yesterday his wife?" asked Herbert. 
 " She did not look to me like a serious-minded 
 woman." 
 
 Mrs. "Waterford was tempted to smile at the 
 simplicity of the question, which seemed to im 
 ply that no church officer would have any but a 
 sober-minded wife; while in reality Mrs. Mel 
 ville was at the head of fashion. 
 
 "She is not what you would call so, I pre 
 sume," she replied. " He married an heiress, 
 and ever since she has been so prospered in this 
 world, that I fear she rarely thinks of the next." 
 
HERBERT ATHERTON. 29 
 
 " Poor woman !" exclaimed Herbert. " Of all 
 the empty phantoms that mortals pursue, fashion 
 seems to me the most unsatisfactory." 
 
 "Now I have done," said Mrs. Waterford, 
 taking up her little basket of keys from the table, 
 " and many thanks for your company. Perhaps 
 you will farther assist me by hearing part of 
 Frank's morning lesson." 
 
 "Gladly," he replied, appreciating the deli 
 cacy which wished to make him feel that he 
 was of use, to free him from the sense of depend 
 ence. 
 
 It was nearly live o'clock when Mrs. Water- 
 ford's carriage stopped before a large double- 
 house, with a Gothic front of fine granite. 
 
 "This is Mr. Melville's residence," she said, 
 "and here, I suppose, we must part. Come 
 home early, so that we may have another nice 
 talk to-night," she added, as the coachman let 
 down the steps. 
 
 " I am sure that I shall be almost impatient to 
 return to your hospitable roof," he replied, as he 
 alighted from the carriage. 
 
 A waiter, in elegant livery, answered the bell, 
 and ushered the visitor into a spacious library, 
 where his host was awaiting him. 
 
 Mr. Melville received his visitor as politely as 
 
 3* 
 
30 HERBERT ATHERTON. 
 
 a person could do who was completely engrossed 
 with himself. 
 
 After the customary greetings had been ex 
 changed, he said, in a tone of condescension, 
 
 " I am so sorry that I could not have given 
 you an opportunity of making the acquaintance 
 of our Bishop to-day, but it was quite impossible. 
 He had two confirmations and a funeral to attend, 
 and could not be home till late in the evening. I 
 am very sorry, for he is a nice fellow." 
 
 This last epithet did not seem to Mr. Atherton 
 exactly proper to be applied to a "reverend 
 father in God," especially one whose dignity of 
 character would have seemed to have distanced 
 all familiarity. He, however, only replied, 
 
 " I should like to make his acquaintance, for I 
 hear that his praise is in all the churches." 
 
 " Certainly, certainly, of course," said Mr. 
 Melville, going on with his own train of thought. 
 "And there's "Wykoff: I wanted you to meet 
 him; but he had a baptism on hand, and could 
 not come. He's a capital fellow. But Twining 
 beat's them all. How you would like him ! He 
 is rather on stilts in the pulpit, but comes down 
 wonderfully at a social dinner." 
 
 Mr. Atherton thought he should prefer to see 
 him at his pulpit elevation. The mode in which 
 
HERBERT ATHEKTON. 31 
 
 his brethren were mentioned was very repulsive 
 to his taste, and he made an effort to change the 
 conversation. The attempt, however, was quite 
 unavailing. Bishops, priests, and deacons were 
 to Mr. Melville the nobility of the land ; and to 
 show his familiarity with them was the whole 
 end and aim of hie conversation. He launched 
 into a series of anecdotes, all tending to illustrate 
 the confidential terms which existed between 
 himself and certain prominent divines, inter 
 spersed with jokes, which, if perpetrated by 
 clergymen, must have given them matter for 
 subsequent repentance. He wound up with a 
 grand glorification of the Church and her minis 
 ters in general, and of that which he attended, 
 and Dr. "Welford in particular. His hearer re 
 membered that our heavenly Father may be 
 sometimes more " honored by a religious silence 
 than by religious speaking ;" and this seemed to 
 him one of these occasions. He made no reply 
 to this pompous harangue, but asked some 
 questions with regard to an entirely different 
 subject. 
 
 The senior warden had been too much accus 
 tomed to blowing the ecclesiastical trumpet to 
 pause long for want of breath. He answered 
 his visitor's question very concisely, and then 
 
32 HERBERT ATHERTON. 
 
 launched into a dissertation on church architec 
 ture, in which he was very fluent, being well 
 posted up in the cost of every edifice which had 
 recently been built, and being fully persuaded 
 that the one in which he worshipped was the 
 greatest triumph that the art had ever achieved. 
 He had the most singular faculty of viewing the 
 externals of religion, without the slightest refer 
 ence to its spirit, and appeared never once to 
 have thought that the glory of God's temple was 
 the shekinah within. 
 
 At the next pause in the conversation, Mr. 
 Atherton took a volume from the table, and re 
 marked on the richness of the binding and the 
 number of the illustrations. He was surprised 
 to find that so much taste had been lavished on 
 a work of very inferior merit ; but all Mr. Mel 
 ville's favorite books were more distinguished 
 for their execution than their contents. His 
 library, however, was not all composed of similar 
 works, but contained many rare and excellent 
 theological treatises, to which his clerical friends 
 were made welcome. 
 
 After some discourse, in which he showed 
 great familiarity with the names of authors, pub- 
 lishers, and tables of contents, Mr. Melville as 
 sured Mr. Atherton that his whole collection 
 
HERBERT ATHERTON. 33 
 
 was quite at his service, and begged to send him 
 any volume which he might select. 
 
 " I always keep a circulating library," he said, 
 with evident satisfaction, "and buy books for 
 the reading of my friends. But you look fa 
 tigued. Don't stand up any longer. Here is a 
 catalogue which you can look over at your leis 
 ure. Would not you like to go up stairs and lie 
 down? It still lacks half an hour of dinner 
 time, and you could take a refreshing little nap. 
 Or, perhaps, you had rather lounge on this 
 
 couch, which Bishop N calls my ' bed of 
 
 down.'" 
 
 Mr* Atherton gladly accepted this offer, for he 
 was much exhausted, more, perhaps, by the con 
 versation of his companion, than by previous 
 fatigue. Mr. Melville saw that he was quite 
 comfortable, and then excusing himself, left him 
 to his meditations. 
 
 Herbert could not sleep, for his mind was 
 always ruffled by intercourse with this species of 
 men. He disliked to hear eminence in the 
 Church spoken of, as if it conferred worldly dig 
 nity, remembering that our Saviour promised to 
 his disciples no exaltation on earth but to drink 
 of his cup, and be baptized with his baptism. 
 The very air of the richly furnished apartment 
 
34 HERBERT 
 
 seemed to him oppressive, and he would willingly 
 have exchanged it for the dreary chamber where 
 he had passed so many tedious weeks. Minister 
 ing angels had come thither to comfort him ; bnt 
 it seemed as if they could not enter a place of 
 which the god of this world had taken such full 
 possession. 
 
 The young clergyman knew that he erred in 
 allowing his spirit to become thus overclouded. 
 He repeated the words of the Psalmist, " Thou 
 shalt hide them privily by thy presence from the 
 provoking of all men," and fervently prayed 
 that such a portion of God's Spirit might be 
 given him, as to keep him from irritation at 
 human weakness and folly. His mind grew 
 calm, and when Mr. Melville returned, no cloud 
 remained upon his high, fair brow, or darkened 
 his lofty soul. 
 
 "Mrs. Melville has been chiding me for keep 
 ing you to myself," said the host, courteously. 
 " So I must take you forthwith to the drawing- 
 room." 
 
 In passing through the wide hall, the guest 
 was struck with the loftiness of its ceiling, the 
 rich gilding of the immense chandeliers, and the 
 beauty of the tesselated pavement ; but these 
 were nothing to the sumptuousness of the draw- 
 
HERBERT ATHERTON. 35 
 
 ing-room. Its carpets, curtains, and seats were 
 oriental in their luxuriousness ; and though only 
 the family were assembled there, all were dressed 
 in the extreme of fashion, and with the utmost 
 splendor. Mrs. Melville was reclining in a 
 fauteuil, but arose at her husband's entrance, 
 and extending the tips of her fingers to his visit 
 or, expressed great delight at making his ac 
 quaintance. 
 
 " Bell, let me introduce you to Mr. Atherton," 
 she said, presenting him at the same time to a 
 young lady whom he had not at first observed. 
 She was a perfect contrast to her mother simple, 
 dignified, and quiet : she advanced cordially 
 towards him, and offering her hand, said earnest 
 ly, " I hope you are better to-day. Father told 
 us yesterday that you seemed in very delicate 
 health." 
 
 It is an astonishing relief, when surrounded by 
 the uncongenial and artificial, to meet with ease 
 and simplicity ; and the manner of Miss Mel 
 ville dispelled the constraint which was en 
 thralling Mr. Atherton. He answered her grate 
 fully, and involuntarily seated himself at her 
 side, and entered into a very animated and 
 agreeable conversation. 
 
 " Do you sing ?" he asked, as two young ladies 
 
36 HERBERT ATLLERTON. 
 
 left the piano, at which they had been perform 
 ing a loud duet. 
 
 " Only for myself." 
 
 " And why do you do that for your own grati 
 fication alone, which might give pleasure to 
 others ?" he asked. 
 
 " Because," she replied, " I only sing simple, 
 pathetic ballads, or sacred melodies, and they 
 are not suited for a miscellaneous audience." 
 
 " You are right," he remarked, " but this only 
 makes me anxious to hear you. The best musi 
 cians are usually the most averse to singing in 
 the presence of unsympathizing auditors. Are 
 you fond of church music 2" 
 
 " Very much so. At the school from which 
 I have just returned, a few of the girls sing in 
 the choir of the little church, and I always enjoy 
 our practising evenings." 
 
 At this moment dinner was announced, and 
 being the only gentleman who was a guest, Mr. 
 Atherton offered his arm to the lady of the house, 
 and on reaching the dining-room, was placed at 
 her right hand. He was doubtful whether he 
 was expected to pronounce a benediction, for it 
 did not appear to him as if this family remem 
 bered God in all their ways ; but Mr. Melville 
 called upon him, immediately, to perform this 
 
HERBERT ATHEKTON. 37 
 
 solemn act. The young clergyman's manner be 
 came deeply reverential as he uttered these few 
 words, which were the unstudied expression of 
 his own heart : " Give us grace to be temperate 
 in our appetites, and moderate in the supply of 
 them, that we may always be in a fit frame for 
 thy service, and able to provide liberally for the 
 wants of others. This we ask for our dear Sa 
 viour's sake." 
 
 Christian moderation J Alas for the groaning 
 board, the multiplied courses, the costly viands 1 
 Truly ! to what purpose is this waste ? 
 
 The blessing was hardly pronounced when a 
 young man, whose features were almost lost in the 
 hair with which his face was covered, called out 
 to his sister from the opposite side of the table, 
 " Bell, I say, are you going to the opera to 
 night ?" 
 
 " No, brother," she replied, quietly, without 
 assigning any reason. 
 
 "Why not?" he asked. "I did not say the 
 theatre, child. All the most sanctified people 
 in town go to the opera. What harm is there 
 in it?" 
 
 u I cannot tell, as I have never been there; 
 but what good would it do me ?" 
 
 "Good, why a world of good! Ton would 
 
38 HERBERT ATHEKTON. 
 
 hear Spressi, and she sings like an angel. It is 
 a great deal better to go there to hear her, than to 
 Cal vert-street church, as a great many do ; and 
 I am sure our organist never plays any volunta 
 ries, but opera airs Christianized." 
 
 Miss Bell could not deny this fact, and seemed 
 anxious to waive the discussion ; but Harry was, 
 bent on prolonging it. 
 
 " You are setting up to be wiser than your 
 elders, Bell, and that is much worse than going 
 to hear first-rate music. Father always goes to 
 the opera, and he is a churchwarden." 
 
 " But not a communicant, Harry," she replied 
 in a low tone, which, however, reached Mr. Ather- 
 ton's ear. 
 
 "Not a communicant," he said to himself: 
 "this explains it all." And his respect for Mr. 
 Melville rose at finding that he did not profess 
 any higher principles than those of the world 
 around him. 
 
 " Suppose I ask Mr. Atherton what he thinks 
 of it," continued Harry in a low, bantering tone* 
 " I would, but J have a kind of fancy that he 
 would come out on your side. I think I'll ven 
 ture it at all risks. Mr. Atherton," he said in a 
 much louder voice, " don't you think the opera a 
 rational Christian amusement ?" 
 
HERBERT ATHERTON. 39 
 
 " I know nothing of the way in which it is 
 managed in this country," he replied, with calm 
 dignity, u so I cannot give an unqualified opin 
 ion. I believe the same rule, however, applies 
 to amusements everywhere. Those are most 
 suitable for a Christian, which involve the least 
 expenditure of time, 'thought, or money, and 
 upon which he can most conscientiously implore 
 the blessing of God." 
 
 " You are right, sir!" replied the young man 
 frankly ; for though gay himself, he had come 
 sufficiently often in contact with truth to distin 
 guish it readily from error. " Your rule in 
 cludes the opera, for our box at it would sup 
 port a poor family for a year : a visit to it costs 
 six precious hours, and the girls think all the 
 day before what dress they shall wear to it, and all 
 the day after of the people whom they met there, 
 I am heartily glad you do not approve of it" 
 
 " Harry is jesting," said Mrs. Melville, who 
 could not believe that her son would acknowl 
 edge that the very amusement which he had 
 been advocating, was an unsuitable one for 
 Christian people. She did not know that in 
 his inmost heart, her dissipated son respected 
 nothing so much as total abstinence from the 
 gayeties in which he participated so freely. 
 
40 HERBERT ATHERTON. 
 
 This little glimpse of Harry Melville's charac 
 ter made Mr. Atherton peculiarly alive to the 
 tone of the subsequent conversation. He saw 
 that, notwithstanding his seeming manner, and 
 the lightness with which he spoke, he was capa 
 ble of thinking deeply, and even justly upon 
 many subjects about which he affected not to 
 think at all. To draw out the young man's mind 
 more fully, he gave a literary turn to the con 
 versation, and conversed with much ease and 
 grace upon various topics ; assisted by Miss Mel 
 ville, whose remarks displayed a rich and culti 
 vated understanding. Harry's manner lost its 
 affectation, and became exceedingly agreeable. 
 He had travelled abroad and visited many inter 
 esting places, which he described with pictur 
 esque accuracy and refined taste. The young 
 clergyman's heart fairly yearned to impart to 
 his companion that talismanic gift which could 
 bring all his fine faculties into harmony, and 
 determined to cultivate his acquaintance by every 
 means in his power. He was surprised to find 
 how quickly the time passed, notwithstanding 
 the whispered remarks of his hostess, to which 
 he was occasionally obliged to listen ; and when 
 at last the party arose from the table, and ad 
 journed to the drawing-room, he was gratified 
 
HEEBERT ATHEETON. 4:1 
 
 that young Melville seemed anxious for further 
 conversation. His father, however, did not per 
 mit this indulgence, feeling that his guest had 
 missed much in being debarred so long from his 
 own society, by the etiquette which had placed 
 him at the other end of the table. 
 
 After listening for half an hour patiently to a 
 repetition of the harangues delivered in the li 
 brary, Mr. Atherton took his leave with a cordial 
 invitation from the whole family to renew his 
 visit. 
 
 4* 
 
4:2 HERBERT ATHERTON. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 PROFESSIONAL DUTIES AND PRIVATE FEELINGS. 
 
 "I hear thy voice thou bidd'st me quit 
 Thy Paradise : I bless, and do submit." 
 
 DURING the next few weeks, Herbert Atherton 
 gained rapidly in strength, for the heavy burden 
 was removed from his mind, which had hitherto 
 retarded his recovery. Upon their first acquaint 
 ance, Mrs. Waterford had perceived, with true 
 feminine instinct, that uncertainty with regard to 
 the future and a disagreeable sense of depen 
 dence were wearing upon the spirits of her young 
 friend, notwithstanding his vigorous efforts to 
 control them. As soon as he was really well 
 enough to pursue any occupation, she determined 
 to propose to him that he should undertake the 
 entire charge of Frank's education. The offer 
 was made to him in manner and form, for she 
 thought that even between the closest friends, 
 business should be thus conducted ; and the 
 salary fixed upon, though liberal, was not large 
 enough to make him feel that any part of it was 
 
HERBERT ATHERTON. 43 
 
 a gift. Mr. Atherton gladly accepted the pro 
 posal, and his mornings henceforth were always 
 passed in the library with his bright and affec 
 tionate pupil. 
 
 Frank had hitherto been entirely educated by 
 his mother. Her means were so ample, that she 
 was relieved from all the drudgery of housekeep 
 ing, and a most valuable nurse took care of the 
 little girls while she was engaged with their 
 brother. He had not learned to read till nearly 
 six years old ; but was at that time uncommonly 
 mature in mind from constant association with 
 older people. When once fairly started in the 
 career of learning, his progress was rapid and 
 thorough : now only ten, he was well advanced 
 in Latin, and quite a proficient in English studies. 
 Mr. Atherton had been much pleased with the 
 lad ever since the day on which they had first 
 met, and entered into his new employment 
 with real enthusiasm. He considered the voca 
 tion of teacher as only second to his own sacred 
 office, and had always been desirous of uniting 
 them. The pleasure which he felt in the hours 
 that were passed with his pupil was readily im 
 bibed by the latter, and he began to consider hig 
 lessons more as a matter of choice than ne 
 cessity. 
 
44: ' HERBERT ATHERTON 
 
 The prepossession that Frank had conceived 
 for his new teacher, on account of his connection 
 with a father whom he had dearly loved, soon 
 ripened into the warmest attachment. The 
 bright manly boy became the almost insep 
 arable companion of the walks of the young cler 
 gyman, by whom he was treated precisely as a 
 brother. It was not long before he acquired the 
 habit of telling him every thing in which he was 
 interested ; and this gave an opportunity for di 
 recting even his thoughts. 
 
 The most precious talent in any teacher is this 
 power of gaining the confidence of the young, 
 for it gives them an amount of influence which 
 could be acquired by no other method, and takes 
 from their relation all mercenary character. Mrs. 
 Waterford saw with deep satisfaction this growing 
 intimacy, and was most grateful to the Giver oi 
 all mercies that he had provided her fatherless 
 son with so excellent an example and so judicious 
 a guide. 
 
 But though Mr. Atherton devoted his mornings 
 exclusively to Frank, this was not long his only 
 occupation : he was introduced by Mr. Melville 
 to several of the most prominent clergymen of 
 the city, and became warmly interested in many 
 of the benevolent plans which they were prosecu- 
 
HERBERT ATHEKTON. 45 
 
 ting with such ardent zeal. He was delighted to 
 find that the manner in which they had been 
 mentioned by Mr. Melville had not proceeded 
 from any want of dignity or .consistency in them 
 selves, but from the absurd habit which that 
 gentleman had conceived, in common with many 
 others, of endeavoring to enhance his own im 
 portance by an appearance of great familiarity 
 with those who were held in high esteem. 
 
 As soon as Mr. Atherton's health was restored, 
 at the urgent request of the excellent bishop, he 
 took charge of a small missionary chapel, which 
 had recently been established in one of the most 
 depraved parts of the city. This chapel was 
 principally attended by men and boys, who were 
 more pleased with extemporaneous speaking than 
 written discourses, as great vivacity of manner 
 was necessary to engage their attention. 
 
 Mr. Atherton's sermons had always been re 
 markable for the originality and variety of their 
 illustrations, and this peculiarity adapted them 
 to the comprehension of a class of hearers who 
 needed that all abstract truths should be ex 
 plained by sensible objects : without making a 
 single remark which could excite mirthfulness, 
 or degrade the loftiest of all subjects, he managed 
 to introduce a variety of interesting anecdotes, 
 
4:6 HEKBERT ATHERTON. 
 
 precisely adapted to their own mode of thought 
 and manner of life. This method of preaching 
 required no previous study, excepting with re 
 gard to the nature and capacities of his audience ; 
 and this he gained by almost daily visits to their 
 wretched haunts, which even more excellent men 
 would have feared to enter. It is true that occa 
 sionally he met with insolence, often with scorn, 
 and sometimes with violent threats, while on 
 these errands of love, but they seemed scarcely to 
 excite even emotion. 
 
 He had taken a calm survey of all the difficul 
 ties of his present position before assuming it, 
 and they therefore caused neither surprise nor 
 apprehension. Having thus deeply impressed 
 upon his mind by actual observation the wretch 
 edness which sin entails, and the fearful destruc 
 tion to which it must eventually lead, it was not 
 singular that the ardent young man soon became 
 distinguished for his eloquence. Now and then, 
 a stranger of respectable appearance might be 
 seen among his motley congregation, attracted 
 thither by the report of the eminent success of 
 the preacher ; and these were always struck with 
 the deep interest visible on faces seared by crime, 
 and bloated by vice. 
 
 Although Mrs. Waterford fully approved of 
 
47 
 
 the new charge which had been undertaken by 
 her young friend, she always felt some anxiety 
 when he did not return at the usual hour. They 
 were now upon the most confidential and in 
 timate terms; but there was one point in Mr. 
 Athertou's character which Mrs. Waterford did 
 not fully understand : this was the entire indif 
 ference that he manifested towards all other la 
 dies, although enjoying so keenly her own friend 
 ship and society. It is true, that after paying a 
 visit to Mr. Melville, he would sometimes speak 
 approvingly of the sober-mindedness and intelli 
 gence of his eldest daughter ; but not a particle 
 of personal interest seemed to mingle in these 
 commendations. His manner, too, was always 
 that of one who had bid adieu to every hope of 
 earthly happiness, though, excepting his orphan 
 age, there was no feature in his lot to account for 
 this peculiar hopelessness. He was bright and 
 cheerful, but his contentment evidently had its 
 only seat in the conscientious performance of 
 duty ; and when in female society, his manners, 
 though kind and cordial, were those of a person 
 who felt himself divided by an impassable gulf 
 from all the nearest and dearest ties of life. 
 
 From these circumstances, Mrs. Waterford had 
 arrived at the conclusion that her friend had met 
 
48 HERBEKT ATHEETON. 
 
 with one of those disappointments of the heart, 
 which, if rightly used, do so much towards 
 chastening and elevating the character. She 
 would not, for the world, have pried into his con 
 fidence, but with true feminine curiosity, she 
 could not help saying to him one evening, on his 
 return from a social visit, 
 
 " "Well, my dear Herbert, have you met with 
 any ladies this evening that you found at all in 
 teresting ?" 
 
 She thought that her manner of putting this 
 question was quite careless, but he had learned 
 to read the language of her expressive counte 
 nance, and saw that his indifference to her own 
 sex had excited her astonishment. For a mo 
 ment his brow was shadowed by pain, and then 
 he walked towards the window to conceal his 
 emotion. 
 
 " Forgive me," she said instantly, " if I have 
 annoyed you by my remark : it was one I had 
 no right to make." 
 
 " You have every right," he replied warmly, 
 " to my confidence ; but there is one subject to 
 which it is always painful for me to allude." 
 
 " Then never mention it," she replied quickly: 
 " much as I value your confidence, I value your 
 happiness more." 
 
HERBERT ATHERTON. 49 
 
 " Thank you," he said affectionately, as, some 
 what more composed, he seated himself by her 
 side. 
 
 It was a warm evening in the middle of July, 
 and the only light was screened by a shade of 
 colored glass ; yet Mrs, Waterford saw that her 
 companion's cheek was flushed, and his eyes 
 filled with tears. 
 
 " Perhaps I shall be relieved," he said, after a 
 silence of some moments, " if I tell you the his 
 tory of my heart, though it may be of little in 
 terest : 
 
 " More than two years since, I was sent for, as 
 a clergyman, to visit an elderly lady who was 
 very ill. She had arrived at Havana nearly a 
 month previous, accompanied by her brother and 
 his only daughter, a young lady of about eighteen. 
 I had noticed the whole party on coming out of 
 the church, the Sunday after their arrival ; for, 
 though very delicate, Miss Cameron had not 
 been considered in immediate danger, and was 
 lot confined to the house where they had taken 
 odgings for the winter. I was struck, however, 
 iy that peculiar transparency of the skin, and 
 tunken appearance around the mouth, which so 
 often marks those who are victims of consump 
 tion, and was not therefore surprised to learn, 
 
50 HERBERT ATHERTON. 
 
 soon afterwards, that she was suffering from a 
 violent attack of hemorrhage. Her brother, Mr, 
 Cameron, being persuaded that a residence in a 
 warmer climate was all that was necessary to 
 restore her health, felt no uneasiness at leaving 
 her for a few weeks, when recalled by business 
 to Savannah, which was the residence of the 
 family. A gentleman belonging to Havana, 
 with whom he had been intimate for many years, 
 promised to see that she received every attention ; 
 and his daughter Agnes would, he well knew, be 
 the most tender and devoted of nurses. 
 
 " On entering the chamber of the invalid, I 
 saw at a glance that her days were numbered. 
 She was a remarkably interesting woman, and 
 had, notwithstanding her weakness, perfect com 
 mand of all her faculties. Her niece was bending 
 over her with an expression of intense anxiety ; 
 but her own face was free from all perturbation, 
 and a smile passed over it, as I approached the 
 couch on which she reclined, and made some in 
 quiries with regard to her soul's health. She 
 had been, she told me, a communicant in the 
 Church ever since her fifteenth year, and had en 
 joyed a life of uncommon peace and freedom from 
 temptation. She had not sent for me to quiet 
 any fears of conscience, or to reconcile her to 
 
HERBERT ATliKRTOX. 51 
 
 leaving a world with which she had little sym 
 pathy ; but to use that beautiful service for the 
 sick, which, even in health, she had often read 
 with the deepest interest. I found that her life 
 had been one long preparation for death, and 
 that my only office was to offer a prayer and a 
 thanksgiving, and commend her to His keep 
 ing in whom she had long since learned to 
 trust. 
 
 "While Miss Cameron was speaking thus 
 calmly of her own probable decease, her niece 
 was fearfully agitated. 
 
 " ' Try and compose yourself, Agnes,' she said 
 tenderly ; c if you love me, do not grieve that I 
 have a prospect of entering so soon upon a world 
 of perfect happiness.' 
 
 " ' But I cannot live without you indeed I 
 cannot !' she exclaimed, clinging to her aunt with 
 convulsive strength, and seeming entirely forget 
 ful of my presence ; ' who will ever tell me what 
 is right, or love me as you have done ?' 
 
 " c You have one friend who has always loved 
 you much more dearly,' said the invalid faintly, 
 disengaging herself from the clasping arms of her 
 beloved niece. ' When He called your mother 
 away, I was sent to fill her place ; and when I 
 am gone, He will provide some other guide for 
 
52 HERBERT ATHEETON. 
 
 you, my poor child, I have no fear in leaving 
 you to His care.' 
 
 " ' Oh, Aunt ! how can you be so willing to 
 give me up ?' exclaimed Agnes, almost frantic 
 with grief; ' you who have watched me so many 
 years, and would not even leave me for a day !' 
 
 " This reproach agitated for a moment the 
 weakened frame of the sufferer, but she soon re 
 gained her self-composure, and turning to me, 
 remarked, 
 
 " c My poor Agnes does not know what she 
 says. God will in time strengthen her*' 
 
 " I could not witness this scene without deep 
 emotion. I had not seen a more lovely being 
 than the young girl who was thus deeply afflicted ; 
 and her manner and bearing betrayed the depth 
 of her feelings and the warmth of her heart. I 
 wished that I were her brother, so that I might be 
 permitted to wipe the tears from those dark eyes, 
 and promise to watch over her with unsleeping 
 tenderness. As it was, I only spoke to her, 
 soothingly, of Him who is closer than a brother, 
 and more tender than a mother. She scarcely 
 heeded my words, but kept her eyes fixed on her 
 aunt, with a deep mournfumess of expression 
 which I can never forget. I heard her sobbing 
 violently when I prayed that if it were not God's 
 
HERBERT ATHERTOJST. 53 
 
 good pleasure that the sick person should recover, 
 she might, 'after this painful life was ended, 
 dwell with him in life everlasting.' 
 
 " Before leaving Miss Cameron, I begged her 
 to let me know if in any way I could be of s'er- 
 vice to herself or her niece, and promised to see 
 them again during the next day. 
 
 " Why should I dwell on the hours passed in 
 that blessed chamber? For some time I had 
 little conversation with Agnes, for she was always 
 absorbed in her aunt, who daily grew weaker, 
 but lingered much longer than I had at first 
 expected. 
 
 " It was the evening of a lovely sabbath, early 
 in April, when Miss Cameron sent to know if I 
 could administer to her the Holy Sacrament. I 
 immediately repaired to her chamber, where I 
 found no one but Agnes and herself, besides the 
 colored woman who was their constant attendant. 
 To my astonishment, as I was about commencing 
 the communion service, Agnes rose to leave the 
 room. 
 
 " * Stay, dearest,' said her aunt feebly ; ' I could 
 have wished that you might have joined in all 
 the services ; but there are some prayers in 
 which you can surely unite.' 
 
 " Agnes reseated herself, evidently agitated in 
 
 5* 
 
HERBERT ATHERTOIT, 
 
 no common degree, at being thus requested to 
 remain during the most solemn mystery of our 
 holy faith. 
 
 "She did not again attract my notice, till after 
 the administration of the sacred elements, in 
 which Miss Cameron and her faithful servant 
 alone participated. Then her face was covered 
 with both hands, and she was sobbing violently. 
 When the services were concluded, she left the 
 room immediately, and her aunt gazed after her 
 with mournful tenderness ; and then said, ' Poor 
 child ! How the Spirit is struggling with her 
 heart ! Oh, gracious Saviour, bring this lamb 
 into thine own fold !' 
 
 "The whole manner of this eminent Christian 
 surpasses description. She seemed to realize the 
 presence of her beloved Redeemer, as completely 
 as if he were corporeally visible, and she had 
 found in the commemoration of his death a rich 
 foretaste of that heavenly feast to which she 
 was soon to sit down, in the kingdom of his 
 Father. 
 
 " It is impossible to convey to you my astonish 
 ment at thus learning that one so lovely and 
 amiable as Agnes Cameron was still an alien from 
 the fold of Christ. It had never once crossed 
 my mind that she did not fully coincide in all 
 
HERBERT ATHERTON. 55 
 
 the devout sentiments which her aunt expressed, 
 and insensibly, I had formed for her the deepest 
 attachment, partly founded on respect for the 
 Christian virtues which I had imagined she pos 
 sessed. 
 
 " I saw at a glance, the painful task which was 
 before me, for I had long since made up my 
 mind that no Christian, and especially no clergy 
 man, had any right to unite himself with one 
 who could not fully sympathize with him on this 
 most important of all subjects. In a letter of 
 advice bequeathed to me by my dying mother, 
 she had especially warned me against the danger 
 of fixing my affections on any woman who was 
 not a devoted Christian; knowing, as she said, 
 that with my ardent temperament, much of my 
 happiness in this life, and perhaps my salvation 
 in the next, might depend upon this momentous 
 choice. She begged, however, that I would not 
 make her wishes the only ground for pursuing 
 this course, but would calmly examine the Bible, 
 while my mind was unprejudiced, and write 
 down the irresistible result of this prayerful 
 scrutiny. 
 
 "I fulfilled her request, and will show you, at 
 some future time, the reasons why I determined 
 that no beauty of person, or loveliness of charac- 
 
56 HERBERT ATHERTOH. 
 
 ter, should induce me to overlook in a woman 
 the absence of religious principle ? 
 
 " You may, perhaps, think that I had arrived 
 too hastily at the conclusion that Agnes was not 
 a Christian, because she was not a communicant ? 
 and that I. had every reason to expect that the 
 affliction through which she was passing, might 
 render her entirely suitable for the wife of a 
 clergyman. 
 
 " But a conversation which I held with Miss 
 Cameron on the day following this impressive 
 scene, showed rne that my conclusions, though 
 hasty, had been correct. She informed me that 
 her brother, Mr. Cameron, had married an amia 
 ble but irreligious woman, who had exercised a 
 most unfortunate effect upon his principles and hab 
 its. As a boy, he had been remarkably free from 
 worldliness ; but a kind desire to please his wife, 
 led him into society, for which he had naturally 
 no inclination, and in time, he acquired a taste 
 for gayety and a love of excitement. His re 
 ligious declension was rapid, and in a few years, 
 though a professing Christian, he was only so in 
 name. Agnes was the only child of this unfor 
 tunate union, and being a girl, was wholly under 
 her mother's influence, and brought up without 
 the slightest regard to any interests, but those of 
 
HERBERT ATHERTON. 57 
 
 time. She was only ten years of age when her 
 mother was seized with a violent fever, which 
 soon terminated her life. 
 
 " Mr. Cameron was completely prostrated by 
 this shock, for he had ceased to lean upon the 
 only Arm which was capable of affording him 
 support. He went immediately to Europe, leav^ 
 ing Agnes at a fashionable boarding-school, 
 where her associates were of the most thought 
 less kind. Miss Cameron, herself, had been 
 living for many years in the family of another 
 brother, who was also a widower ; but as his 
 oldest daughter was now able to take charge of 
 his household, she immediately requested the 
 father to intrust to her the education of his child, 
 whenever his health should allow him to return 
 to his native land. He gladly acceded to this 
 proposal, and came back in a few months. But 
 Miss Cameron could hardly recognize her brother 
 in the cold, reserved man, over whose house she 
 now presided, as his affliction had not melted 
 his heart, but turned it to stone. He seemed 
 hardly to feel any interest in his child, who be 
 came wholly dependent upon her aunt for care 
 and protection. She manifested the germs of 
 much that was excellent ; but her early education 
 had developed only the seeds of evil. By patient 
 
58 
 
 kindness her faithful aunt endeavored to eradi* 
 cate her erroneous ideas, but she found her task 
 a difficult one. Agnes was warm-hearted, gene 
 rous, impulsive, and amiable, but had no sense 
 of religious responsibility. She made rapid im 
 provement in self-government and in intellect, 
 but her heart seemed almost impervious to re 
 ligious impressions. Lovely in manner, and 
 capable of exciting the warmest affection, she 
 was totally deficient in this crowning grace of 
 female character. 
 
 "This relation was made to me with many 
 tears, and much as it excited my pity for the 
 motherless girl, still the story of her father's 
 errors strengthened my own determination. I 
 had yet never displayed any thing but friendly 
 interest in Agnes, and therefore was bound by 
 no sentiment of honor to disclose my attach 
 ment. If, indeed, her present affliction should 
 be blessed to her soul, I might then conscien 
 tiously ask her hand, but otherwise I had no 
 right to yield to my own heart. 
 
 " Before that week had closed, Miss Cameron 
 had quietly passed to the world of spirits. I was 
 sitting at the side of her bed, and Agnes by her 
 pillow, when she breathed her last. It was 
 vain to speak of consolation to the agonized 
 
11EKBEKT Al'HEKTOK. 59 
 
 mourner. She wept day and night, till so ex 
 hausted that she was incapable of feeling. Her 
 father in the mean while arrived, his return having 
 been accelerated by the news of the increased ill 
 ness of his sister. He thanked me coldly for my 
 services, but intimated that he could now dis 
 pense with my visits, and I therefore saw Agnes 
 no more till the evening of her departure, Then I 
 put in her hand a letter which I had written, 
 placing before her in as strong a light as I could 
 the risk she was incurring by endeavoring to 
 quiet the voice of conscience, and repel the spirit 
 of God. As her father and the gentleman who 
 had taken charge of his sister during his absence 
 were both present, we had little opportunity for 
 any conversation by which I could learn what 
 was the state of her mind. She seemed deeply 
 grateful for my attention to her aunt, and shed 
 many tears when I bade her farewell. I have 
 never seen her since, but have heard that after 
 her return to Savannah she plunged very soon 
 into gay society, and appeared perfectly wedded 
 to the world- Still I have never ceased to pray 
 that she might become an obedient child of God ; 
 not that we may be united here, but that she 
 may be saved from the inevitable doom of the 
 impenitent." 
 
60 HERBERT ATHERTON. 
 
 At this thought, Mr. Athertou was completely 
 overcome ; and Mrs. "Waterford, who had been 
 deeply interested in his narration, gave him the 
 most soothing and delicate sympathy, and tried 
 to encourage him to believe that his prayers 
 would be heard. 
 
 From that time, no reference was ever made 
 to this sad subject, but Herbert seemed more 
 closely united to his new friend, by her knowledge 
 of his deepest trial. Frank never suspected, 
 when listening to the animated conversation of 
 his teacher and friend, that he only maintained 
 his constant cheerfulness by never-failing effort 
 and unceasing prayer. 
 
HERBERT ATHERTON, 61 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE WORLD AND THE CHURCH. 
 
 <* The hand that holds her chalice should be pure, 
 The priest of her high temple spotless as 
 The vestments of her ministry." 
 
 EARLY in the month of August, Dr. Welford 
 returned from England. He was informed by 
 Mr. Melville, soon after his arrival, that Mr, 
 Atherton was in the city, and went immediately 
 to Mrs. Waterford's, where he found his friend 
 giving Frank a lesson in mathematics. 
 
 Herbert expressed great pleasure at seeing, 
 once more, a familiar face ; for, though he had 
 made many acquaintances who had been exceed- 
 ingly kind, still his spirit yearned for some tie 
 connecting him with his own past life, and his 
 early home. He told Dr. Welford frankly of the 
 embarrassing situation in which he had been 
 placed, when he recovered from his sudden ill 
 ness, and found himself destitute in a land of 
 strangers. His friend was exceedingly troubled 
 to learn how much inconvenience had been oc- 
 
62 HERBERT ATHERTON. 
 
 casioned by an act of thoughtlessness on his own 
 part, and seemed hardly able at first to forgive 
 himself. 
 
 "The fact was," he said, "that, shortly after 
 writing to yon, I learned that business of import 
 ance would make it necessary for me to go 
 abroad without delay. The arrangement of my 
 affairs, previous to my departure, in addition to 
 my professional duties, occupied my mind so 
 fully, that it was not till on my passage to Eng 
 land that I remembered the possibility of your 
 leaving Havana before I could communicate to 
 you the intelligence of my absence, or commend 
 you by letter to any of my friends. It was also 
 impossible for me to learn your direction in New 
 York, and I contented myself with writing to the 
 Island, with the hope that you might be detained 
 there till you could hear from me. I assure you 
 that the uncertainty as to your movements has 
 given me much uneasiness ; and I was greatly 
 relieved to-day at finding that you were with 
 Mrs. Waterford. I presumed that you knew her 
 direction, and came hither, soon after landing, 
 with the intention of telling her such particulars 
 of her husband's illness as she could learn only 
 from yourself, and I was sure she would show 
 you every attention in her power." 
 
HERBERT ATHERTON. 63 
 
 " She has indeed done so," said Herbert, grate 
 fully, and he related to Dr. Welford the provi- 
 dential circumstances which had led to their ac 
 quaintance. 
 
 "But how is it, Herbert," exclaimed Dr. 
 Welford, "that you have taken charge of the 
 little chapel of St. Barnabas ? it is no place for 
 you." 
 
 "Why not?" asked his young friend, with 
 great simplicity. " Do you not think I am ca^ 
 pable of doing any good to the poor outcasts, by ' 
 whom it is attended?" 
 
 Dr. Welford smiled. " Yes, indeed ; I do not 
 doubt that you have been very useful ; but it is 
 not such a position as you ought to occupy." 
 
 " I cannot see any objection to my doing so, 
 while the compensation I receive for Frank's 
 tuition enables me to be independent; and I 
 have time for both," said Herbert, with a ques 
 tioning look. 
 
 " But your talents, my dear friend, are of too 
 high an order to be wasted in a place, where any 
 good, kind man would be quite as useful. I 
 must speak to the Bishop about it, and there will 
 be no difficulty in procuring a congregation, more 
 capable of appreciating you." 
 
 Herbert had great respect for Dr. Welford, but 
 
64 HERBERT ATHERTON. 
 
 he was always perfectly independent both in 
 opinion and action. 
 
 " I thank you most sincerely for your kind 
 offer," he said; "but, for the present I would 
 rather remain where I am. I should hardly be 
 able to write two sermons weekly, and do my 
 duty to Frank faithfully ; besides, supposing it 
 true that God has given me any talents for 
 preaching, I shall only be so much the more 
 likely to touch the hard hearts of my auditors, 
 whose situation has inspired me with the deepest 
 interest. It always has seemed to me the most 
 Christ-like of occupations, to try and bring back 
 to virtue and happiness, those children of mis 
 ery and crime ; and the little influence I may 
 have obtained, may yet end in leading some 
 wretched being to the knowledge of the Sa 
 viour." 
 
 " And are you willing to toil on in such an 
 unpromising field, for the faint hope that some 
 solitary individual may yet be saved through 
 your instrumentality?" asked Dr. Welford, ad 
 miring the cheerfulness with which his com 
 panion mentioned this remote hope as sufficient 
 reward for his arduous labors. 
 
 "If a single soul is worth the world, the 
 chance of saving one ought to be incentive 
 
HERBERT ATHERTON. 65 
 
 enough for a life of exertion had it not ?" asked 
 Herbert. 
 
 " Certainly, it should," said his friend warmly. 
 " I think sometimes that we clergymen, who are 
 shut up year after year in the city, breathing the 
 tainted atmosphere of the world, are in danger 
 of losing our spirituality, and viewing our fel 
 low-beings as they are esteemed by the mass of 
 mankind around us, rather than with the impar 
 tiality of our divine Exemplar. I own, that for 
 the moment, a congregation like my own seemed 
 to me worthy of a more talented minister than 
 that of St. Barnabas ; but when I think of it, 
 the latter position has, perhaps, the greatest need 
 of eloquence and fervent piety. In my parish, 
 there are many Christians, and the majority lead, 
 at least, moral lives, while yours is composed 
 mainly of the vicious, who might not hear in 
 any other way the offers of salvation. Still, 
 though souls are all of equal value in the sight 
 of their Creator, it cannot be denied that there 
 are those whose influence is much more ex 
 tensive than others, and of course their con 
 version will lead to much more important re 
 sults. Religion and morality spread downwards 
 rather than upwards in society ; and therefore, 
 it is peculiarly desirable that those who are 
 
66 HEKBEET ATHEKTOtf. 
 
 in high positions should be examples to the 
 rest." 
 
 " I agree with you on this point," said Her 
 bert ; " and I own that it has grieved me to find 
 how many professedly Christian people were do 
 ing injury, instead of good, to those for whom 
 they are, in a manner, responsible. Do you not 
 sometimes become quite discouraged, when you 
 see persons so familiar with the form of godli 
 ness, who have none of its spirit ?" 
 
 " Indeed, I do," exclaimed Dr. Welford, with 
 deep feeling. " Men speak flippantly of the holiest 
 topics, which they have no preparation of the 
 heart for understanding, and there is not a mys 
 tery which is sacred from their profane touch. 
 Even the blessed sacrament is bandied about from 
 mouth to mouth ; and the mode of its adminis 
 tration, and the manner in which all the services 
 are performed, is a matter of perpetual criti 
 cism." 
 
 " Is it possible !" said Herbert, mournfully 
 " I should as soon think the manner in which the 
 prodigal son approached his father, was a sub 
 ject of remark, as that in which God's children 
 draw nigh to his throne." 
 
 " So it would seem," said Dr. Welford ; " but I 
 am forgetting myself, and staying here quite too 
 
HERBERT ATHERTON. 67 
 
 long ; before I go, however, you must promise 
 to preach for me next Sunday, I have my hands 
 full of business, and you will really oblige me, if 
 you will exchange duties on that occasion." 
 
 " Certainly, then, I will do so," said Herbert ; 
 " but I have little time before me now, to write 
 a sermon." 
 
 " Have you none with you ?" asked Dr. Wei- 
 ford in a tone of surprise. 
 
 " Yes, several," replied the young clergyman, 
 hesitatingly ; " but do you not think, sir, that we 
 always ought to improve from year to year in 
 our discourses ? Progress is, you know, the law 
 of Christian life, and if we are really the chil 
 dren of God, we must be advancing in holiness, 
 and attaining clearer views of eternal truth. If 
 BO, it seems to me that after the discipline of long 
 sickness, and much trial, I ought to write better 
 sermons than before I was thus chastened." 
 
 There was something delightful to Dr. Wei- 
 ford in the simple, earnest spirit of the young 
 clergyman, and he sighed, as he thought how, 
 amid the battle of life, the tone of his own mind 
 had become, imperceptibly, less elevated. 
 
 " I hope you will do my people as much good, 
 as you have done me," he said warmly, at 
 parting. 
 
68 HERBERT ATHEKTON. 
 
 As Herbert Atherton and Frank were walk 
 ing, that day, in a retired part of the city, they 
 observed that they were followed by a man of 
 most suspicious appearance, whose head and 
 neck were, notwithstanding the heat of the 
 weather, so closely muffled by a silk handker 
 chief, that it was almost impossible to catch a 
 glimpse of his face. As, in crossing a street, Mr. 
 Atherton fell a little behind his pupil, the stran 
 ger stepped up to him and asked in a low voice, 
 " Are you the minister who preaches at St. Bar 
 nabas ?" 
 
 " Yes," said Herbert, fearlessly ; " do you want 
 me?" 
 
 " Meet me in front of the chapel, as soon as 
 you can, and I will tell you what I wish to say ; 
 it won't do for me to be staying here," said the 
 stranger, and then fell back again. 
 
 Mr. Atherton stepped forward quickly and 
 joined his pupil. 
 
 "Frank," he said, "I have an errand in the 
 other part of the city, so I will leave you here. 
 Tell your mother that I may not be at home in 
 time for dinner, so she need not wait for me." 
 
 So saying, Mr. Atherton turned into another 
 street, and proceeded forthwith to the spot which 
 had been named by the stranger as a rendezvous, 
 
HERBERT ATHERTON. 69 
 
 Though he had walked very rapidly thither, 
 the latter had anticipated him, and was awaiting 
 his arrival. He seemed to have lost all fear of 
 detection, now that he was in the haunts of vice, 
 and said, in a loud tone, 
 
 " So you're come, sir ; that's well done of ye ! 
 There's a woman named Sally Brown who's in a 
 desperate taking, because she thinks her hus 
 band's going to die. He got badly hurt in a 
 bout last night, and I promised her I'd dog you 
 round, and ask you to come and see him. He 
 has just been in the brown jug, and is desperate 
 fierce ; but there's a gang of us as will hang 
 round the door, and be up with him, if he tries 
 to hurt you." 
 
 "Thank you," said Herbert, with a quiet 
 smile. " I do not think I shall need your assist 
 ance. Why should he hurt me, when I only- 
 wish to do him good ?" 
 
 " Because we fellers here have got a hatred 
 of everybody that's riding over our heads. I 
 wouldn't have stirred a step, if Sail hadn't nursed 
 me through the fever, so I owed her a good turn ; 
 and having got you here, I'm bound in honor to 
 see you safe home." 
 
 "So even these poor creatures have what they 
 call their principles," thought the clergy man, as 
 
70 HEKBEET ATHEETON. 
 
 he bent to enter the low cellar to which his steps 
 were directed, and passing through a narrow 
 entry, floored only with mud, entered as wretched 
 a looking spot as imagination could well con 
 ceive. On the dirty straw in one corner of the 
 room a fierce-looking man was lying, dressed in 
 a shirt and ragged trousers. Both of the gar 
 ments were covered with blood, as was also the 
 filthy handkerchief which was bound round his 
 bushy head. 
 
 The moment the stranger entered he attempted 
 to rise, but fell back with a low sound, resem 
 bling more the growl of an animal than the voice 
 of a human being. A woman sat near him, on 
 a low stool, trying, through blinding tears, to tie 
 the shreds of what appeared to be a child's apron 
 together, so as to make a longer bandage for her 
 husband's wound. She was pale and emaciated, 
 and cast an uneasy eye towards the other corner 
 of the room, where a little child was asleep on 
 an old cloak, which was spread on the bare 
 ground. "With a natural instinct of delicacy, she 
 drew a ragged shawl, which, with the exception 
 of a petticoat, was her only covering, more closely 
 over her breast, and put her finger to her lips, as 
 if she did not wish the visitor to say he came at 
 her invitation He took the hint, and, without 
 
HERBERT ATHERTON. 71 
 
 addressing a word to her, walked up to the couch 
 of the man, stumbling over an empty barrel and 
 a broken chair in his way thither, and said 
 kindly, 
 
 " Are you much hurt, my friend ?" 
 
 " To be sure I am, or I'd have had you chucked 
 out of this room before you had had time for 
 palaver. I suppose you want a chance to send 
 me back to that old hole where I've been buried 
 alive these two years ; but I'd take off this thing, 
 and bleed to death before you'd have me," he 
 said jeeringly, pulling at the bandage on his 
 head with a threatening air. 
 
 " Oh don't," screamed his wife, as, flying to 
 him, she caught hold of his hand. He flung her 
 off with one arm, as if she had been a baby, 
 muttering, " Poor fool ! it would be the best day 
 you ever saw." 
 
 The woman rose from the ground on which she 
 had fallen apparently unhurt, and, turning to Mr. 
 Atherton, said mournfully, " He didn't use to be 
 this way; it's injustice that's crazed him. He 
 was put in State Prison, when he hadn't done 
 any thing wrong, only taking the drink." 
 
 "And do you call that wrong?" he asked, 
 while his eyes flashed from under his shaggy 
 brows. " Wasn't it to get you and your famish- 
 
72 HERBERT ATHERTON. 
 
 ing brat out of my head that I took to the drink ? 
 And then, because I held another man's coat, 
 must I be shut up, as if I were a wild beast ?" 
 
 "Tell me what has happened to you," said 
 Mr. Atherton mildly, who saw that he could do 
 the man no good till he became calmer. 
 
 There was real interest in the voice, without a 
 tone of superiority or reproach. The sick man 
 looked at him for a moment with fierce scrutiny, 
 and then said more gently, 
 
 " I believe, on my soul, you don't mean me 
 any harm, so I'll just tell you about it. Sally 
 here and that brat in the corner were starving 
 one bitter winter's night, and mad with misery. 
 I rushed into the street. I met two fellows, as 
 wretched as myself, and they spent their last six 
 pence for a drink for us all, to keep us warm, 
 and make us forget what a dog's life we led. I 
 don't remember much what happened, only they 
 went into a big house, and told me to stand on 
 the steps, and call out if anybody came. I heard 
 the watchmen a few minutes after, and then I 
 yelled to them that somebody was coming. Next 
 I knew I had a blow on my head, and was tucked 
 up in a jail. The men I was with made off; but 
 it was proved they broke into a dwelling-house, 
 and I was their accomplice, so I was sentenced 
 
HERBERT ATHERTON. 73 
 
 to State Prison, and dragged off without a chance 
 to see Sally. If I wasn't bad when I went there, 
 I am now ; and I only wish I had a chance of 
 doing something ugly, to pay them for punishing 
 me for nothing." 
 
 " It was very hard," said Mr. Atherton com 
 passionately, for he knew the maddening effect 
 of supposed injustice upon some natures, and felt 
 a deep sympathy for the temptations to which 
 the poor were subjected. " But you know, my 
 friend, there is One who watches over us all, and 
 you must leave justice in his hands." 
 
 " In his hands !" exclaimed the man, with a 
 scornfulness which chilled Mr. Atherton's blood. 
 " He just ! look at my wife and child, who are 
 as sinless as babies, and then at some of those 
 women rolling in luxury, who are as worthless 
 as dirt, and then tell me about justice." 
 
 " There is a world to come," replied Mr. Ath 
 erton, with deep solemnity, " where you will 
 have to own that God is just." 
 
 " I know it," said the man, shuddering, " I 
 feel it ; but can it be worse than this ?" 
 
 " You know how wretched you are here ; think 
 of such wretchedness growing greater and greater, 
 and lasting forever." 
 
 The man gave a howl of agony at this idea. 
 
HERBERT ATHERTON. 
 
 " Pray for me," he said, " for I could not endure 
 another drop of misery." 
 
 Mr. Atherton fell on his knees, and poured 
 forth a prayer of such deep fervency that the 
 eyes of the poor wretch were immovably fixed 
 on his uplifted face, and he involuntarily re 
 peated some of his heartfelt petitions. 
 
 When the clergyman arose from his knees, 
 however, the only words which he said were, 
 " Go now ! but don't come here again till I send 
 for you." 
 
 " May God give you a new heart, nay poor 
 friend," said the clergyman, tenderly ; and then 
 without speaking another word he left the 
 wretched apartment. 
 
 The next day, at a later hour, while walking 
 through a narrow lane, Mr. Atherton was met 
 by the same strange looking man, who said hast 
 ily, " Sally sent you word that there is no use in 
 your coming again. The landlord says they must 
 all budge ; and Bill has made her swear she 
 won't tell anybody where he's carried to. She 
 told me to thank you for her, and she's a good 
 soul." With these words, the stranger disap 
 peared. 
 
 Mr. Atherton was grieved thus to lose sight 
 of the wretched man, who had occupied his 
 
HERBERT ATHERTON. 75 
 
 thoughts during nearly the whole of the night. 
 He was comforted, however, by recollecting that 
 though removed from his influence, he was still 
 under the eye of an all-merciful Eedeemer, to 
 whom he most earnestly prayed that he might 
 be rescued from perdition. His mind, however, 
 was so perturbed that it was difficult for him to 
 apply it to the discourse which he had resolved 
 to write for the following Sunday ; but it was 
 gradually calmed by reflection and prayer, and 
 on Saturday evening he was quite prepared for 
 the ensuing day. 
 
76 HERBERT ATHERTON. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE UNEXPECTED MEETING. 
 
 i 
 
 " Speak gently to the erring, 
 Thou yet mayst lead them back, 
 With holy words and tones of love, 
 From misery's thorny track." 
 
 ON the Sunday after Dr. Welford's return, his 
 church was crowded to overflowing. " We shall 
 have something very fine to-day, I presume," 
 said Mr. Melville, as he showed a stranger up 
 the isle, whom he had invited to listen to the far- 
 famed rector of St. Philip's. When the voluntary 
 on the organ ceased, and Herbert Atherton en 
 tered the chancel, there was a universal appear 
 ance of disappointment. 
 
 " A mere boy," whispered an old gentleman, 
 contemptuously, to his neighbor, who was equal 
 ly venerable. 
 
 " I wonder what our pastor means," said a 
 lady, in a tone of irritation. " If Dr. Welford is 
 not going to officiate here, even when he is at 
 home, we might as well go to some other church." 
 This comment was whispered to Mrs. Waterford, 
 
HERBERT ATHEKTON. 77 
 
 who made no reply, and the irreverent buzzing 
 was hushed by the first words of the service, 
 which were pronounced in a full, clear voice of 
 unusual depth and solemnity. 
 
 The question had never passed through the 
 mind of the clergyman whether he would be 
 welcomed by the congregation. He was an 
 ambassador delivering a message from the King 
 of kings. What was it to him whether the 
 criminals to whom he came with proffers of 
 mercy, liked his manner and appearance ? His 
 message was every thing himself nothing. But 
 his own profound reverence for the office which 
 he held insensibly affected his hearers ; and by 
 the time that the reading of the second lesson 
 was concluded, a deep silence had fallen upon 
 the whole congregation. This was broken by the 
 chanting of the full choir, which was succeeded 
 by the Creed, uttered with a solemnity with 
 which it had seldom been pronounced, and in 
 the following prayers, the responses were remark 
 able for their fervency. 
 
 When the clergyman ascended the pulpit, 
 there was an expression of curiosity in the faces 
 of many who were present, for his whole voice 
 and manner were so peculiarly earnest, that there 
 was an undefined expectation that his preaching 
 
78 HERBERT ATHERTON. 
 
 would be of an uncommon kind. His appear 
 ance may have added to this impression, for 
 Herbert stood in the midst of that crowded 
 church absorbed with one idea, the fearful re 
 sponsibility of preaching the Gospel of Christ. 
 " Deliver me from blood-guiltiness, O Lord," 
 was a portion of the prayer which he uttered as 
 he bowed his head, and then he lifted his face, 
 radiant with spiritual loveliness, and announced 
 as his text, as if it had been just breathed into his 
 own ear by some invisible being, " Why have ye 
 agreed together to tempt the Holy Ghost ?" The 
 subject of the discourse was the sin of Ananias 
 and Sapphira, and the inquiry how far it now 
 infected the Church of Christ. The minister re 
 marked upon the fact, that the most severe dis 
 pleasure of the Almighty had fallen upon those 
 who were members of his Church, and yet with 
 held from him that entire consecration of them 
 selves and their property, which was their lawful 
 service. It was wonderful that a similar judg 
 ment did not befall those who in this age were 
 tempting the Holy Ghost by rendering the hom 
 age of a divided heart ! The unholy union now 
 attempted between God and man was denounced 
 by Scripture, and in direct opposition to the spirit 
 of the Church to which they belonged ; yet many 
 
HEKBEltT ATHEKTON. 79 
 
 of those loud in religious profession, reserved a 
 a large share of their thoughts, their time, and 
 their affections for this perishing world. Even 
 in that very sanctuary, Mammon was worshipped. 
 Why was it that they spoke exultingly of the 
 beauty of that temple ? When Solomon had 
 built one of surpassing glory, his feeling was 
 that of deep humility, and he exclaimed, " The 
 heaven of heavens cannot contain thee : how 
 much less this house that I have builded !" 
 Wherefore did they pride themselves on the pos 
 session of the most conspicuous seats ; would 
 their confessions of penitence ascend more read 
 ily from thence to the throne of the Almighty ? 
 " If this spirit is in the Church, it is not of it," 
 he continued with increasing earnestness. " You 
 come up these aisles with a haughty air, and 
 seating yourselves, commence irreverently com 
 municating your thoughts to each other, when 
 met only to hold intercourse with the invisible 
 God. Do you not hear the words proclaimed 
 from the sacred desk, ' The Lord is in his holy 
 temple ; let all the earth keep silence before 
 him ?' and again, ' The sacrifices of God are a 
 broken spirit.' Proud men and gay women 
 stand around that font, as sponsors to a young 
 immortal, whose little frame has been decked 
 
80 HERBERT ATHERTON. 
 
 with all the elegance with which it can be 
 adorned ; but they have come to promise in its 
 name that it shall renounce the c pomps and van 
 ities of this wicked world, and all the sinful 
 lusts of the flesh.' Why do they thus agree to 
 tempt the Holy Ghost, by pretending to conse 
 crate a soul to its Maker, and then doing all in 
 their power to. withdraw it from his service? 
 
 " ' Love not the world, neither the things that 
 are in the world,' resounds in your ears from this 
 holy place, and again and again you ask deliver 
 ance from ' the world, the flesh, and the devil.' 
 You have renewed at this altar the promise of 
 your childhood, to renounce all its pomps and 
 vanities ; yet you go forth to strive for its re 
 wards, to mingle in its pleasures, and to drink 
 deep of its spirit. Oh my brethren, 'why have 
 you agreed thus to tempt the Holy Ghost ?' " 
 
 It would be impossible to do justice to the un 
 studied eloquence with which these words were 
 delivered. There was a deep and breathless si 
 lence till the conclusion of the discourse ; and 
 this lasted till the benediction was pronounced, 
 and then the congregation slowly dispersed. 
 The few remarks which were made with regard 
 to the sermon were the most fitting testimony 
 to its excellence; for men rarely wish to dis- 
 
HERBERT ATHERTON. 81 
 
 cuss that preaching which has touched their 
 hearts. 
 
 During the ensuing week, Mr. Atherton was 
 returning one morning from a visit to Dr. Wei- 
 ford, when he met a young lady dressed in deep 
 mourning escorted by Harry Melville. The lat 
 ter touched his hat respectfully, but Herbert 
 could hardly command himself sufficiently to re 
 turn his salutation, so much was he struck by the 
 appearance of his fair companion. 
 
 "Yes, it is Agnes," he said, as they disap 
 peared from his sight, and a strange giddiness 
 came over his brain, while a violent pain shot 
 through his heart. With a strong effort, he 
 mastered this weakness, and was able to reach a 
 stage which was just passing, in which he seated 
 himself, trembling with emotion. 
 
 Mrs. Waterford saw, the moment he entered 
 the house, that he had met with some agitating 
 adventure ; but she asked no questions, and sent 
 the little girls out of the room, because they in 
 sisted on knowing why he looked so ill. He only 
 said that he did not care for any dinner, and then 
 went to his own apartment, where he remained 
 alone till evening. 
 
 Of all trials, that which is most rarely appre 
 ciated by others, or indeed seldom known by 
 
HEEBEIiT ATHEBTON. 
 
 them, is the struggle to overcome a misplaced af 
 fection. Deeply, earnestly, Herbert prayed to 
 be assisted in conquering his own heart; but it 
 throbbed tumultuously with grief, and his 
 thoughts would ever revert to the object of his 
 intense and unextinguishable affection. The 
 very ardor of his feelings explained the reason 
 why it had been deemed best by Infinite Wisdom 
 that he should not be allowed their unfettered 
 exercise. 
 
 " I know it is right, O Father !" he exclaimed : 
 " I am too prone to idolatry to have been per 
 mitted the possession of my heart's desire ; but 
 oh, sanctify her to thyself; deliver her from the 
 fetters of sin." Gently, at last, peace stole to his 
 heart ; and then, with a face of calm submission, 
 he left his apartment. 
 
 How many such struggles are witnessed only 
 by the Almighty ! seen perhaps with the same 
 approbation as the sacrifice of Abraham; for 
 they terminate in the renunciation of the heart's 
 dearest treasure, in obedience to his most holy 
 will. 
 
 That evening Mr. Atherton called at Mr. Mel 
 ville's, and was informed that Miss Cameron, a 
 ward of that gentleman, had just left in the 
 steamer for Savannah. She had only arrived in 
 
HEKBERT ATHEETON. 83 
 
 the city on Saturday, having been at the Springs 
 during the summer months. 
 
 " She asked," said Harry Melville, carelessly, 
 " whether we had met you, and said something 
 about your being an old acquaintance." 
 
 Herbert had not sufficient self-command to 
 make any inquiries, but the manner in which 
 Agnes was mentioned by the gay young man, 
 left no doubt in his mind that she was still a 
 devotee to the world. 
 
 One night in the beginning of September, 
 Herbert Atherton was aroused from slumber by 
 what sounded like a man's footstep in the hall 
 which led to his chamber. He knew that both 
 the coachman and waiter were in the habit of 
 going home to their families at night, and there 
 fore was startled by the approach of a stealthy 
 tread to the closet which was situated directly 
 opposite to his own door. He heard the key turn 
 in the lock distinctly, and rising in haste threw 
 on his clothes, and noiselessly opened his own 
 door. The closet was open, and a man was just 
 lifting down from an upper shelf the wicker 
 basket in which Mrs. Waterford always kept the 
 table-silver. The robber was examining the con 
 tents, when he distinctly heard the words, " Thou 
 shalt not steal," pronounced slowly by a voice at 
 
84- HERBERT ATHERTON. 
 
 his very ear. He started in alarm, and turning 
 round, saw a pair of calm, dark eyes fixed 
 mournfully upon him. The sight of a human 
 being seemed to be a relief from the superstitious 
 dread with which the thief had been assailed ; 
 but there was something still of fear in his man 
 ner as he asked in a rough voice, 
 
 " How came you here ? what do you want ?" 
 
 " To save you from crime," was the reply, as 
 Mr. Atherton still stood gazing fixedly upon him. 
 
 " You had better go back to bed then," said 
 the man hastily, " or you will tempt me to com 
 mit another, and break your pate." 
 
 Mr. Atherton took no notice of this threat, 
 but asked calmly, " What tempts you to this 
 new act of wickedness, when you have just been 
 rescued from the jaws of death, my poor fellow ?" 
 
 The kindliness of the clergyman's voice was 
 strange to the ear of the midnight robber. 
 
 "Want!" he exclaimed bitterly, "wretched 
 ness and want are my temptations. My child is 
 dead of starvation, and my wife is a vagabond ;" 
 and at this thought, he again reached his hand 
 towards the basket of silver. 
 
 *' Stop, my poor friend," said Mr. Atherton in 
 a voice of gentle authority. " Come with ine 
 into my chamber, and I will give you something 
 
HERBERT ATHERTON. 85 
 
 for the supply of your necessities, which will save 
 you from committing a new crime." 
 
 The robber mechanically followed the young 
 man into his room, and stood gazing at him 
 gloomily, while he went to his desk, and taking 
 out his pocket-book, drew from it a small roll of 
 bank notes. Then a struggle passed over the 
 hardened features of the thief. He looked at 
 the slender, delicate frame of his companion, as 
 if calculating with what ease he could master 
 him, and possess himself of all his money ; and 
 then his eye ran over the gentle, loving face, 
 which turned upon him with a look of deep 
 sympathy and commiseration. "!Nb, I cannot 
 touch you," he exclaimed. " If all men were like 
 you I would not be such a villain." 
 
 "God's grace has alone made us to differ," 
 said Herbert, meekly. " Here are twenty dollars. 
 I have no more by me at present, but if they will 
 not be enough to supply your most pressing wants, 
 tell me and I will bring you more to-morrow." 
 
 " Why do you give me this ?" asked the robber, 
 " to prevent my doing you harm ?" 
 
 " That is out of your power," said his compan 
 ion calmly: "you could not really hurt me, 
 although you might take my life. It is for 
 your own good, only, that I wish you to take 
 
86 HERBERT ATHERTOtf, 
 
 this money, which is freely yours, and leave this 
 house in peace." 
 
 The sincerity of this reply reached the heart 
 of the poor victim of sin, and warm tears moist 
 ened his swollen and blood-shot eyes. 
 
 " If there be a God, he will bless you,'' was 
 his reply, and he turned hastily from the apart 
 ment, as if afraid that his new-formed resolution 
 was too weak to venture upon a moment of 
 delay. 
 
 Mr. Atherton accompanied him in silence to 
 the door through which he had effected his en 
 trance ; and then said, kindly, " ISTow tell me 
 where you live, that I may try and furnish you 
 with employment." 
 
 " Employment !" said his companion in the 
 same scornful tone, which he had used when 
 speaking of the justice of his Maker. " Who 
 will give employment to me, when they know 
 where the last two years of my life have been 
 passed? Haven't I tried it, and didn't they spurn 
 me from their doors the moment that was known. 
 Look at me ! would you employ a fellow with 
 such a face as mine ?" 
 
 Mr. Atherton could not deny that it would be 
 a risk to engage the services of a man whose 
 appearance was so deeply impressed with the 
 
HERBERT ATHERTON. 87 
 
 stamp of evil ; but his charity never failed, and 
 he said cheerfully, " If you will only resolve to 
 give up what is wrong, your family will be pro 
 vided honestly with bread." 
 
 The robber could not doubt the truth of this 
 promise, and after a moment's hesitation, said, 
 " You will find us in an empty carriage-house, 
 belonging to the livery stable, next the Clifton 
 Hotel." 
 
 " I will seek you there without fail," said Mr. 
 Atherton. " Now go home and thank God that 
 you have been saved from the crime that you 
 meditated." 
 
88 HERBERT ATHEBTOff. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 AN EXPERIMENT, 
 
 " He who finds a felkw-mortal, 
 
 His precious soul by vice enchained, 
 And brings him back from ruin's portaf r 
 Has clone the task for Christ ordained." 
 
 IT was not strange that the young clergyman 
 passed a sleepless night, after the interview re 
 lated in the last chapter. He was sorely puzzled 
 to discover in what manner to find employment, 
 for a person of such vicious character and habits, 
 without risking the lives or property of others- 
 As soon as day dawned he rose, being determined 
 to see the midnight intruder as early as possible, 
 so as to give him no time for committing any 
 farther depredations. 
 
 After commending himself, in a short prayer y 
 to the care of his heavenly Father, and asking 
 his aid in endeavoring to seek and to succor one 
 of those lost beings for whom the Saviour died, 
 Herbert proceeded through various winding lanes 
 and obscure alleys to the disreputable neighbor- 
 
HERBERT ATHERTOtf. 89 
 
 hood of the Clifton Hotel. It was difficult to 
 discover the spot to which he had been directed, 
 among the numerous dilapidated buildings that 
 crowded the filthy yard behind that den of ini 
 quity. Herbert was assisted, however, by the 
 sight of a well-remembered figure entering a low 
 hovel, more fit for the shelter of a beast than of 
 men. As the door was unhung, the gentle tap 
 of the young clergyman was instantly heard, and 
 answered by a fierce inquiry of what he wanted, 
 and a command to go about his business. 
 
 " My business," said the intruder mildly, as he 
 stepped within the door, " is to see you, my 
 friend, and discover how I can best serve you." 
 
 " Ah ! is it you ?" asked Brown in a now civil 
 tone, as he recognized the features of his bene 
 factor. " Have you repented of last night's deed, 
 and come to claim your property ?" 
 
 "By no means," was the animated reply. 
 u Let us trust each other fully, and then we shall 
 have no trouble. I have no earthly motive in 
 coming here but to try and persuade you to be 
 willing to live henceforward an honest life, and 
 then to aid you in so doing. Where is your 
 wife?" 
 
 " There," said the man, as he pointed to what 
 Herbert had mistaken for a heap of old clothes 
 
 8* 
 
90 HERBERT ATHERTON. 
 
 in the corner of the miserable apartment, adding 
 more gently, " Poor Sally I We won't wake her* 
 She has not slept so sound for many a night as 
 since I told her of your kindness, and my wish 
 that I could lead a better life*" 
 
 " And you are really in earnest in that wish ?" 
 said Herbert, looking fixedly at his companion, 
 on whose face the red morning light was falling 
 through the large cracks in the broken roof above 
 them. 
 
 " Does a man like to have hell within him ?" 
 asked the other fiercely. "Do you suppose I 
 ever have a moment's peace. I learned too 
 much when I was a child to be easy leading such 
 a devil's life. God knows what a miserable 
 wretch I am !" 
 
 " My poor fellow," said Herbert, as involun 
 tarily he extended his hand and clasped in it that of 
 the felon, which was fairly shaking with emotion. 
 
 It was the first time for years that he had re 
 ceived such a mark of sympathy, and the act 
 went to his very heart. How warm, how soft, 
 how pure that delicate hand felt, and how quietly 
 it bore the rough gripe with which it had been 
 seized ! It seemed as if this single motion had 
 more of sincerity in it than could have been ex 
 pressed in any words. 
 
tiERlJEIiT ATHERTON. 91 
 
 The best of men, in approaching the vicious, 
 stand as it were at a distance, repelled by their 
 horror of vice. Herbert shrank from sin as from 
 a serpent ; but in the basest of human beings 
 saw some fragment of the image in which they 
 were created, and owned his relationship as a 
 fellow-creature, saved from like defilement only 
 by the grace of God. 
 
 "Was your mother a religious woman?" he 
 asked, after a long pause, during which the face 
 of his companion showed the workings of strong 
 emotion. 
 
 " There never was a better !" he replied, be 
 coming still more agitated. "Thank God, 
 she went to her rest before I became such a 
 wretch." 
 
 " Perhaps she sees you now, and is rejoicing 
 that better feelings are springing up in your 
 heart," said Herbert encouragingly. 
 
 A low, deep sob was the only answer to this 
 suggestion, for the tide of early recollections 
 which had rushed over that sin-hardened heart 
 could no longer be resisted. The poor victim of 
 guilt sank down on a stone beside the door, and, 
 covering his face, wept tears of anguish. 
 
 The clergyman stood by in silence, lifting up 
 his heart in prayer. He felt as if the spirit of 
 
92 HERBERT ATHERTON. 
 
 God were very near, and earnestly asked that 
 his pleadings might be heard. 
 
 Gradually the heavy sobs died away^ and that 
 bowed figure seemed changed to stone, Was he 
 listening to the still, small voice within? Ah I 
 if his ear could have been opened to the melo 
 dies of Heaven, he might have heard that sweetest 
 of all angelic songs the anthem of praise over a 
 sinner that prayeth. For a whole hour Herbert 
 awaited in patience the result of this fearful 
 struggle with the powers of evil. When his com 
 panion at length lifted up his face, an involuntary 
 exclamation of thanksgiving burst from the 
 clergyman's lips, for its expression was as gentle 
 as that of a child. 
 
 "With God's help, I will be a better man," 
 said Brown, in a low voice. " Pray for me, sir, 
 that I may keep this resolution. But not now," 
 he added, " for I see some men coming this way 
 whom you had better avoid." 
 
 " Have no fears for me," said Herbert kindly. 
 " I cannot leave you till we have arranged some 
 plan for the future. Did you expend any of the 
 money I gave you last night in providing food 
 for the day?" 
 
 " No, sir," said Brown. " I came directly 
 home, and have been thinking ever since so 
 
PERBER'l ATHEliTON. 93 
 
 much of my own wickedness, that I forgot I was 
 hungry. I do not like now to go out, for I am 
 afraid to offer your notes at any decent place, for 
 fear they will think that such a looking being 
 could not have come by them honestly." 
 
 ""Well, then, here is some change," said Her 
 bert, "for you to get breakfast for Sally and 
 yourself, while I go home to my own. I will see 
 that she Iras a decent suit of clothes, and then 
 she can procure for you what you need, so that 
 you will be ready for employment. Keep out of 
 the way of temptation as much as possible till I 
 return, and remember that an all-powerful Friend 
 is at your side, and he will strengthen you." 
 
 His companion could not utter a word in re 
 ply, but he took that pale hand again between 
 his own, and, pressing it against his full heart, 
 looked up to heaven with an expression of un 
 utterable gratitude. 
 
 When Herbert reached home he found the 
 family assembled for prayers. Mrs. Waterford 
 was struck with the animated expression of his 
 countenance when he entered, and by the re 
 markable fervency with which he uttered a 
 prayer for all such as were troubled in mind and 
 tempted of Satan. 
 
 At breakfast Herbeit hardly spoke, and seemed 
 
94 HEKBEKT ATHERTON. 
 
 to have entirely lost his appetite, for he was pon 
 dering upon the expediency of asking Mrs. 
 Waterford's advice. He feared lest her repose 
 in future might be disturbed if she was made ac 
 quainted with the circumstance of the midnight 
 visit, but decided at last upon making her his 
 confidant. As soon as the children had left the 
 table, he gave her a brief account of his visit to 
 the Browns a few weeks previous, and then re 
 lated the last night's adventure. 
 
 Mrs. Waterford was too sincere a Christian to 
 be much alarmed at any terror by night, and her 
 thoughts never rested for an instant upon the 
 danger in which she had been of losing valuable 
 property, but were immediately absorbed in the 
 desire to aid Mr. Atherton. 
 
 " There has lately been formed a society," she 
 said, after some reflection, " for providing those 
 who have been released from prison with suitable 
 employment. I remember now that I subscribed 
 to it, and that my friend Mr. Nugent is one of 
 the managers. I will either go to him myself or 
 give you a note of introduction, and he will 
 assist you, I have no doubt, for he is a most ex 
 cellent and judicious man. 
 
 " Thank you," said Herbert warmly. u I will 
 see him instantly, for no time must be lost in 
 
HERBERT ATHERTON. 95 
 
 taking advantage of the poor fellow's penitent 
 frame of mind. While I am gone," he added, 
 as he rose from the table, " will you have the 
 kindness to try and find some clothes for Sally? 
 I believe she is in need of every thing. But I 
 forgot that I should want your note of introduc 
 tion." 
 
 "Yon shall have it forthwith," said Mrs, 
 "Waterford, as she followed him into the library. 
 
 Mr. ISTugent was fortunately at home, and 
 listened to Mr. Atherton's narrative with deep 
 interest. 
 
 u The case of this man," he said, " is that oi 
 hundreds. On being released from prison, there 
 seems no alternative but to plunge into fresh 
 crime, and it has needed much study to find em 
 ployment which might put them out of the way 
 of temptation. By your account, the only breach 
 of human law of which this man has been inten 
 tionally guilty, was the attempted burglary of 
 last night, if he really was in such a state of in 
 toxication as not to have been conscious what he 
 was doing when apprehended by the police. I 
 can well understand how, finding himself covered 
 with disgrace and suffering from want, he was 
 led to this act, and am not afraid to trust him 
 with employment. We have just made arrange- 
 
96 HERBERT ATHERTON. 
 
 inents with a railroad company to furnish them 
 with a certain number of laborers to assist in 
 digging a new road, some hundred miles in 
 length. "We have to become security for their 
 honesty; but fortunately their temptations are 
 few when thus employed, if too many of the 
 same kind are not thrown together. We are 
 going to send out a car-load this afternoon to a 
 place about forty miles from the city, and if 
 Brown and his wife will go, they shall, on reach 
 ing there, be provided with a comfortable home 
 and constant employment." 
 
 "A most excellent plan," said Mr. Atherton, 
 looking perfectly delighted at the idea of having 
 his protege thus provided for, a Removed from 
 his present associates, and starting with a pros 
 pect of regaining his reputation, I have strong 
 hopes that he will keep to his present resolu 
 tions." 
 
 Mrs. Waterford needed only a glance at her 
 enthusiastic friend, on his return, to be assured 
 that his mission was successful. 
 
 " Where are Sally's clothes ?" he asked eagerly. 
 " Please have them put into my little travelling 
 bag, and I will take them immediately." 
 
 " Shall I not send a servant with you ?" asked 
 Mrs. "Waterford, smiling at his eagerness. 
 
HERBERT ATHERTON. 97 
 
 "Oh, no!" he replied quickly. "I think we 
 should be very careful about sending them on 
 such errands. They might form very injurious 
 acquaintances. Besides, the wretched like as 
 few spectators as possible of their misery. My 
 portmanteau will not be heavy, and I always 
 carry it myself when on a journey." 
 
 Mrs. Waterford made no further objection to 
 his proposal, but rolling up into as small a com 
 pass as possible the different articles of dress, 
 packed them into the portmanteau. 
 
 Herbert was thinking so intently, that he was 
 taken quite by surprise, when he again found 
 himself standing before the Clifton Hotel. On 
 entering the yard behind it, he was somewhat 
 troubled at seeing Brown's habitation closed, and 
 knocked at the door with a sinking heart, asking 
 himself if it was possible that he could have been 
 mistaken in the man's sincerity. His fears were 
 banished by the sound of footsteps within, and 
 the removal of the stone which had been rolled 
 up against the door. 
 
 " I shut myself in," said Brown civilly, " be 
 cause I did not want any one to know I was 
 here. How quickly you have returned, sir !" 
 
 Before her husband could say any more, Sally 
 had thrown herself at the feet of the visitor, but 
 
98 HERBERT ATHERTON. 
 
 was weeping so violently that she could not utter 
 a syllable. He raised her gently, and handing 
 her the portmanteau, said, 
 
 * Here, my good woman, a friend has sent you 
 some clothing; and while your husband and I 
 go outside, for a little conversation, you must 
 dress yourself, for we have no time to lose." 
 
 She looked her thanks, and Brown followed 
 Herbert into the yard, and heard with deep grati 
 tude the arrangements that had been made by 
 Mr. Nugent for his leaving the city. 
 
 " It will be easier to be good," he said, " when 
 I can see the trees and the sky ; it is so hard to 
 believe there is a God in such a wretched place 
 as this." 
 
 Mr. Atherton, after explaining fully the man 
 ner in which his companion was to be employed, 
 gave him much excellent advice, and placed in 
 his hands a Bible and Prayer-book, which he had 
 brought with him from home for that purpose. 
 ; Just as he did so, Sally opened the door, and a 
 glance of satisfaction shot from her husband's 
 eyes at her altered appearance.* It would have 
 been difficult" for Mr. Atherton to have recog 
 nized her as the same person from whom he had 
 parted an hour before; for, in the neat chintz 
 dress, gingham bonnet, and tidy shawl, with 
 
HERBERT ATHERTON. 99 
 
 which she had been furnished by Mrs. Water- 
 ford, Sally was a most respectable-looking woman. 
 
 "Here is an order," said that gentleman, 
 " upon a tailor who lives in Crayton-street, for 
 whatever your husband may need. Take it with 
 you, and return as soon as you can. But stop ; 
 you will want some crockery for your house 
 keeping, and a few little articles of furniture and 
 bedding. Never mind, though, now about them ; 
 we will see to it that they are at the station- 
 house this afternoon, and the freight-train will 
 take them down this evening." 
 
 Sally looked quite puzzled at this address, and 
 said wonderingly, " Where are you going? what 
 are we to do with furniture?" 
 
 When the poor woman heard that they were 
 really to leave the city, and commence once 
 more a decent life, she was perfectly beside her 
 self with joy. 
 
 " You will never be able to buy what I want, 
 Sally," said Brown, who was quite overcome at 
 the delight of his own poor wife. 
 
 " Oh yes, I shall," she replied, trying to com 
 pose herself, and wiping her eyes with her new 
 gingham apron. " But it must be all a dream, 
 a blessed dream." 
 
 When Mr. Atherton related to Mrs. Waterford 
 
100 HEKBEET ATHEKTON. 
 
 the delight of these two poor creatures at the 
 very idea of escaping from their misery, she was 
 almost as much affected as Sally herself. She 
 went immediately to procure them whatever was 
 needful to render them comfortable in the little 
 shanty which they were to occupy, and which Mr. 
 Nugent had assured Mr. Atherton was perfectly 
 neat and comfortable. At two o'clock, by agree 
 ment, the latter repaired to the centre station- 
 house, to await the arrival of the travellers : when 
 a tall, decent-looking man, accompanied by a tidy 
 little woman, entered the room where he was sit 
 ting, and asked civilly for a ticket in the second- 
 class cars, he did not recognize his acquaintance, 
 nor was it till the large, dark eye of the new-comer 
 met his own that he knew who he was. On per 
 ceiving his friend, Brown hesitated an instant, as 
 if he feared that he might feel degraded by his 
 speaking to him in so public a place ; but Mr. 
 Atherton stepped forward and said kindly, as he 
 held out his hand, 
 
 " I am glad to see you. The cars do not start 
 for some minutes, and we can take a turn on the 
 platform and talk over matters, while your wife 
 sits here and takes care of that little trunk in the 
 corner, which a friend of mine has sent here for 
 her use." 
 
HERBERT ATHERTON. 101 
 
 So saying, he walked out upon the porch be 
 hind the station-house, and remained there for 
 some time, earnestly impressing upon his com 
 panion the necessity of leading a life of watch 
 fulness and prayer. 
 
 "I will come and see you," he concluded, " in 
 a few weeks ; and I hope I shall hear before that 
 time that you are giving satisfaction to your em 
 ployers. Look to your Saviour for guidance and 
 strength, and never give way to despair. If any 
 one discovers the history of your past life, and 
 reproaches you with crime, you must be neither 
 angry nor cast down, but take refuge in the 
 thought, that the blood of Christ has blotted out 
 all your transgressions, and that he will clothe 
 you in his own righteousness. Fix your eyes on 
 the prize set before you, not the sorrows through 
 which you have passed, and may God give you 
 the victory." 
 
 At this moment, the whistle of the engine was 
 heard, and they returned therefore to the room 
 where Sally had been left, and after a few words 
 to her of counsel and encouragement, Mr. Ather- 
 ton bade them both farewell, with a fervent " God 
 bless you," and a smile so warm and cheering 
 that it pervaded their inmost souls. 
 
 Frank met his beloved teacher at the door of 
 
 9* 
 
102 HERBERT ATHERTON. 
 
 their house with a face beaming with content 
 ment. 
 
 " I have got all my lessons," he said eagerly, 
 " and written down my Latin and my Greek, so 
 that you can look them over ; and my sums are 
 all done and proved." 
 
 " Bravo ! my boy," said Mr. Atherton with 
 delight. " You have done better than I expected. 
 I was not afraid to leave you for a morning to 
 yourself; but I hardly thought you would have 
 been quite so diligent." 
 
 " And I have played teacher, too," said Frank, 
 as he ushered him into the library : " mother 
 trusted me with Mary and Fanny, as she was very 
 busy ; and just see what a nice little composition 
 Mary has written, and how well Fanny can read 
 this story in short words." 
 
 " Yes, do hear me, cousin Herbert," said Fan 
 ny, as she jumped on his knee and began : " c A 
 -man-had-a-dog-not-so-old-as-I-am.' Is not 
 that nice ?" she asked, shaking back her soft curls, 
 and looking up eagerly for approbation. 
 
 Herbert kissed her glowing cheek, and said 
 affectionately, "That does nicely for such a 
 little girl; now let me hear what Mary has 
 written." 
 
 " Let me read it, Mary," said Frank with quite 
 
HERBERT ATHERTON. 103 
 
 a patronizing air ; it will sound better if I do. 
 Mine never seem so good as when Mr. Herbert 
 reads them. Mary took her own subject, sir : 
 she has given a description of her little canary- 
 bird. You know she is only eight, and can't 
 write very plain. Here it is : 
 
 " ' I have a little pet whose name is Dick. It 
 is a yellow bird that papa once brought me from 
 a warm country, where he had been ; and that is 
 why I love it. He eats seeds and sugar, and 
 sings all day, and lives in a cage made of gold 
 wire, which I think is very nice. But once I 
 was afraid he felt bad to stay there shut up, so I 
 let him out, but he hopped round a little, and 
 then went back again. Now,- 1 think he loves to 
 stay where he is, and I try to make him happy, 
 and give him all he wants. 
 
 " ' God made my little bird, and he must be 
 very wise to know how to make such pretty little 
 feathers T and such bright eyes, and very good to 
 make a little thing of no use only just to sing and 
 enjoy itself.' 
 
 " There !" said Frank with delight, " don't you 
 call that a nice composition ? I told Mary that 
 you said the way to write was to take some sub 
 ject we knew all about, and say just what we 
 thought, and to try and find out some moral to 
 
;4r HERBERT ATHERTON. 
 
 it some way by which we might be better for 
 thinking of it." 
 
 Mr. Atherton praised the little ones sufficiently 
 to encourage them, without making them vain, 
 and then listened to their bright, pleasant con 
 versation till they were all summoned to dinner. 
 
HERBERT ATHERTON. 105 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 A GLEAM OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 " My every hope has changed its name, 
 
 And flown beyond the grave ; 
 If thou art there, and still the same, 
 No earthly love I crave." 
 
 " ARE you not going to church with us to-day, 
 Harry ?" asked Mr. Melville, one bright Sabbath 
 morning in November. 
 
 " What's the bill of fare ?" was the question 
 of his son, in reply, as he lounged back in one 
 of the large velvet arm-chairs, and looked com 
 placently at the small boot reposing on an otto 
 man near him. The inquiry did not in the least 
 startle the person to whom it was addressed, 
 though it called forth an almost inaudible sigh 
 from his daughter. 
 
 " Very good," he replied ; " Bishop !N" in 
 
 the pulpit, Signora Balesdi in the choir, and Dr. 
 Nathan in the desk, and Twining at the lecture. 
 By the way, they say that his reading is better 
 than the last lecturer on Shakspeare ; the one, I 
 mean, who has just made his exit from the stage." 
 
106 HERBERT ATHERTON. 
 
 " Rather inviting," said Harry, nonchalantly, 
 but when I go anywhere to church I like a little 
 variety from my week-day amusements, and 
 going to St. Philip's is only another form in 
 which the goddess fashion is worshipped : I think 
 I shall patronize the Chapel of St. Barnabas this 
 morning." 
 
 " Why, my son !" exclaimed Mrs. Melville, 
 who had just entered in time to hear his con 
 cluding remark. " You must be beside yourself, 
 to think of going there. Do you know the audi 
 ence is made up of gamblers, pickpockets, and 
 sots." 
 
 " Well, what of that !" he replied in the same 
 indifferent tone. " Don't you say at St. Philip's, 
 every Sabbath, that you are all sinners ? Where's 
 the difference ?" 
 
 *' But nobody means by this comparison," re 
 plied Mr. Melville, drawing himself up compla 
 cently, " that they have committed any such 
 enormities. It is understood, of course, that the 
 sins we mention are not accounted such among 
 men ; pride, perhaps, or excessive anger, or a 
 neglect of religious duties." 
 
 Harry could not help smiling at this interpre 
 tation of prayers so deep in their expressions of 
 contrition that he had never been able to take 
 
HERBERT ATHERTON. 107 
 
 them on his lips since his childhood, from a con 
 sciousness that such repentance found no echo 
 in his heart, and must, if sincere, lead to new 
 ness of life. 
 
 " You must excuse me then henceforth from 
 attending St. Philip's, for I must plead guilty to 
 being somewhat akin to the congregation of St. 
 Barnabas. I assure you that I am comparative 
 ly guiltless of pride and excessive anger, but 
 gamble at cards and billiards, pick my neigh 
 bors' pockets in a business way, and if not a sot, 
 drink enough wine daily to make myself one, if 
 I had not been used to it from infancy." 
 
 " How you do talk !" said Mrs. Melville, im 
 patiently, as she finished drawing on her glove, 
 and turned to leave the room. 
 
 " It is astonishing, my son," said Mr. Melville, 
 " how, with all the religious advantages you 
 have enjoyed, you can so coolly neglect public 
 worship, and own without shame that you con 
 sider yourself guilty of the most disgraceful and 
 ungentlemanly of vices." 
 
 During this conversation, Isabella Melville 
 had been silent, but her cheek w T as flushed, and 
 her eyes were filled with tears. As her father 
 and mother left the room, she paused an instant, 
 and said very meekly, " Dear Harry, do come 
 
108 HERBERT ATHERTON. 
 
 with us. Whatever may be the interpretation of 
 any one, you will find that the language of the 
 Prayer-book is adapted to the confession of sins 
 such as yours, and I am sure of your hearing 
 from God's word, and his ministers, truths that 
 can make you ' wise unto salvation,' if you will 
 listen in a right spirit." 
 
 " I would like to please you, Bell," he an 
 swered, kindly, as he rose from his seat, and 
 adjusted his collar, " but indeed I have taken a 
 fancy to go to St. Barnabas this morning. I am 
 sure you will not object to my doing so, if you 
 think it will make me any better." 
 
 " E~o, indeed !" she replied, with warmth. 
 " May God's grace go with you there, my dear 
 brother." 
 
 Harry looked affectionately at her gentle, 
 lovely countenance, and then kissing her tender 
 ly, said in a low, serious tone, " Pray for me, 
 Bell, for indeed I need your prayers more than 
 you dream." 
 
 A few weeks after this conversation, as Mr. 
 Atherton was passing in front of Mr. Melville's 
 residence, he saw Harry standing on the steps. 
 The clergyman paused an instant, and made 
 some remark on the beauty of the day, and the 
 grace of a fine horse, who was impatiently paw- 
 
HERBERT ATHERTON. 109 
 
 ing the ground, while waiting for his young 
 master to take his seat in the light buggy that 
 had just driven up to the door. Harry replied 
 very courteously to these remarks, and then said 
 with more earnestness, " I wish you would ride 
 with me this morning ; I have had half a fancy 
 to come and see you for the last week or 
 two, but never could get quite up to the 
 mark." 
 
 Mr. Atherton was taken by surprise, and for 
 a moment hesitated whether he should accept 
 the invitation, though he was only walking for 
 exercise. Before venturing voluntarily into the 
 company of those who were decidedly immoral, 
 he always asked himself two questions : " Can 
 I do them any good, and am I strong enough to 
 resist their evil influence ?" A remembrance that 
 flashed through his mind of having seen the gay 
 young man for several Sundays among his own 
 congregation, made him believe it possible that 
 deeper thoughts were working under his careless 
 exterior, and this he deemed a sufficient reason 
 for risking any remarks which might be made 
 upon his public appearance in such apparently 
 uncongenial society. 
 
 Harry waited for his decision politely, and as 
 he answered in the affirmative, remarked, archly, 
 
110 HERBEET ATHERTON. 
 
 " So you think there is enough hope of me to 
 venture being seen in my company ? I thank 
 you for the charitable conclusion. Pray tell me 
 by what steps you arrived at it ?" he added, as 
 he seated himself in the buggy at Mr. Atherton's 
 side, and taking the reins in his own hand, dis 
 missed the groom, and drove rapidly towards 
 the suburbs of the city. 
 
 " I have thought," replied Mr. Atherton more 
 gravely, " ever since we first met, that there 
 was much reason to hope that you would some 
 day become a religious man. This opinion was 
 induced by the correct view you seemed to have 
 with regard to Christian duty, and your frank 
 acknowledgment that I was right in giving a 
 decision, contrary to your own wishes." 
 
 " I did not think you became so hopeful, thus 
 early in our acquaintance," said Harry with sur 
 prise. " Your charity must live on very little 
 food ; but I suppose you have seen me among 
 your graceless congregation, and that helped to 
 keep it alive." 
 
 " It would not, perhaps, have done so," replied 
 Mr. Atherton, " if it had not been for the opinion 
 I had previously formed ; for curiosity might 
 have sent you thither, or that spirit of opposition 
 which sometimes makes the votaries of fashion 
 
HERBERT ATFIERTON. Ill 
 
 visit the most out of the way corners of the 
 earth." 
 
 Harry smiled. " Well !" he said frankly, " I 
 own that curiosity and a savage delight in shock 
 ing my elegant mamma, did have an influence in 
 sending me thither, at first, but I had another 
 motive even then. Do you remember the morn 
 ing you preached for Dr. Welford, there was a 
 young lady with our family at church, whom 
 you had known in Havana, a Miss Cameron ?" 
 
 " Was she there ?" asked Herbert with an em 
 phasis, which would have excited his compan 
 ion's notice, if he had not been busy with his own 
 thoughts. 
 
 " Yes," he replied, " and she went purposely 
 to hear you, for she had almost given up attend 
 ing church at all, for the same reasons which 
 made me so much of a stranger at St. Philip's. 
 We had been talking, that morning, of our con 
 tempt of the pitiable hypocrisy of Christian peo 
 ple, and congratulated ourselves that we were 
 quite as good as many of them ; and had at 
 least one sin less to answer for. We owned that 
 the world was our god, and did it much more 
 laudable service than the avowed followers of the 
 meek and humble Saviour. I told her I could 
 never join in the responses with a heart so full 
 
112 HERBERT ATHERTON. 
 
 of sin ; and she declared that if ever she were 
 confirmed, she should feel bound to give up al 
 most every thing in life, that she now prized, 
 admiration, luxury, pomp, and pleasure. We 
 chatted carelessly on our way to church, making 
 now and then a jesting remark as some splen 
 didly arrayed lady made a sanctified nod on her 
 way to the house of worship which she deemed 
 most fashionable, and after we were seated in the 
 pew, she pointed out to me, with evident amuse 
 ment, the Pharisaical sobriety of some gentle 
 man with whom we had parted at the opera at a 
 late hour on the preceding evening. The mo 
 ment you entered the church, her manner un 
 derwent an entire change. She grew very pale, 
 and her eyes filled with tears, which she sought 
 to wipe away without being observed. So evi 
 dent was her desire to escape notice, that I did 
 not look towards her till the sermon was half 
 over, and then I saw that she was fearfully agi 
 tated. I had not listened to what you had been 
 saying previously, being entirely absorbed in 
 my own thoughts, nor did I afterwards hear a 
 sentence, for I expected every moment Miss 
 Cameron would be obliged to leave the church. 
 She remained, iiowever, till the services were con 
 cluded, and then I noticed that though she had 
 
HERBERT ATHERTON. 113 
 
 not bowed her head even on entering, she threw 
 herself on her knees, and remained in that posi 
 tion till the congregation had dispersed. I felt 
 that my company at such a time would be dis 
 tasteful, so I did not join her on leaving church, 
 and she rode home with Bell and my mother. 
 
 " The rest of the day she remained in her room 
 under the plea of a headache, though my sister 
 told me that she had no doubt the sight of you 
 had recalled the melancholy circumstances at 
 tending her aunt's death, and this was the reason 
 why she had been so much agitated. But I have 
 been making a very long story, in trying to give 
 you my reason for first coming to your chapel." 
 
 " Go on, if you please," said Mr. Atherton in a 
 low, suppressed voice, for his agitation was almost 
 insupportable. 
 
 "Well then, to cut it short Miss Cameron 
 returned home the next day, looking as if she had 
 had a severe spell of illness, and so she did have 
 immediately after her return." 
 
 As he mentioned this fact, Harry's voice trem 
 bled, but he mastered it and continued. " When 
 she got well she was an altered being ; at least, 
 so every one says, and since that time, her letters 
 to Bell have all been of the most serious kind, 
 
 and next April she intends to be confirmed." 
 10* 
 
114 HERBERT ATHERTON. 
 
 " God be thanked !" exclaimed Herbert, almost 
 rising from his seat, while he clasped his hands 
 in ecstasy. 
 
 Harry turned and looked at him in astonish 
 ment, and then an expression of displeasure came 
 over his face. " I should think," he said, " that 
 you were rejoicing over some of your cut-throat 
 congregation. Miss Cameron was always a most 
 moral and excellent young lady, and I can see no 
 great reason for such marvellous joy, that she is 
 going to rank herself with a set of people who 
 are half of them hypocrites." 
 
 His words fell unheeded on the ear of his com 
 panion, who was absorbed in the one delight 
 ful thought : " She is saved, and, thank God, by 
 my instrumentality. This is too much happiness." 
 
 Struck with his companion's silence, Harry 
 again looked inquiringly towards him ; but the 
 expression of his countenance was more eloquent 
 than words. Although his large deep eyes were 
 full of tears, there was a smile of ineffable sweet 
 ness upon his lips, and every feature was radiant 
 with rapture. Harry gazed in wonder at such 
 spiritual loveliness, and forgot for a moment even 
 the tidings which had caused such delight, in 
 trying to conceive why any one should thus re 
 joice over the soul of another. 
 
HERBERT ATHERTON. 115 
 
 The two young men rode on in perfect silence 
 for several minutes, both absorbed in their own 
 thoughts. Mr. Atherton first spoke, and his 
 voice was as dreamy as if he had just awakened 
 from sleep. 
 
 " How was Mr. Cameron pleased with this 
 change ?" he asked. 
 
 " Mr. Cameron !" said Harry in surprise. " Do 
 you not know that he died a year since, and that 
 Agnes lives with her uncle ?" 
 
 " Dead !" repeated Mr. Atherton mournfully. 
 " An orphan ! Poor Agnes !" 
 
 " Her father was no great comfort to her at 
 the last," said Harry. " He became very intem 
 perate ; drinking, it was said, to drown his own 
 miserable thoughts." 
 
 " Poor Agnes !" again repeated Mr. Atherton, 
 with an accent of the deepest commiseration. 
 
 Harry could not enter into the sympathy of his 
 companion for a daughter weeping over the grave 
 of a father, which could only be rendered doubly 
 mournful by clearer views of God's infinite jus 
 tice, and again both relapsed into silence. 
 
 It was nearly half an hour before the conver 
 sation was resumed, and then Herbert broke 
 away from his own sweet meditations with ao, 
 effort, and said, 
 
116 HERBERT ATHERTON. 
 
 "But you have not yet explained why you 
 came to the chapel ?" 
 
 " Simply to hear what kind of preaching had 
 such an effect on Miss Cameron, with a half- 
 formed hope that it might awaken my own heart ; 
 for I could not bear that her religion should 
 make a gulf between us." 
 
 Herbert had been so engrossed with the one 
 idea that the dearest wish of his heart had been 
 fulfilled to notice the flush which suffused his 
 companion's face whenever he mentioned Miss 
 Cameron's name ; but the tone in which this last 
 remark was made aroused his suspicions. His 
 glance of inquiry was answered instantly by 
 Harry's saying frankly, 
 
 " Yes ; I am deeply interested in that lady, and 
 if we are separated now I shall be most miserable." 
 
 " Do I understand that there is any tie between 
 you ?" asked Herbert timidly. 
 
 "No bond that could not be broken," said 
 Harry with evident pain ; " but she had given 
 me every reason to believe that my addresses 
 were acceptable." 
 
 A sharp pang shot through Herbert's heart at 
 this reply, and his face grew deadly pale. Now, 
 when he might have conscientiously asked her 
 love, it was about to be claimed by another. 
 
HERBERT ATHERTON. 117 
 
 But in an instant the Christian overcame the 
 man, and he thanked God that she had become 
 what he had wished^ even if they should never 
 meet on earth. 'No shadow of selfishness had 
 darkened his earnest petitions for her salvation, 
 and now no thought of his own loneliness could 
 long sully his rejoicing over the fulfilment of 
 those prayers. He made at the moment an 
 earnest resolution to use all the influence which 
 he possessed to render Harry worthy of her love, 
 and then turning to him, said kindly, 
 
 " If indeed you have won her heart, you are a 
 happy man, for it is a most noble one." 
 
 The manner in which this remark was made 
 dispelled at once any suspicion of jealousy, and 
 Harry felt glad that his confidence had been 
 given to one in whom it had excited such interest. 
 
 " Mr. Cameron," he said, " left no fortune, and 
 for this reason my father, though his early friend, 
 objects to our union." 
 
 " But you are in business at present, are you 
 not ?" asked Herbert, with self-forgetting interest. 
 
 "Nominally; but I have hardly thought of 
 practising my profession. To tell you the truth, 
 I have been throwing time, talents, and education 
 all away. I am heartily sick of the life that I 
 have led ; and if you can show me how I can be- 
 
118 HERBERT ATHERTOJT. 
 
 come a better man, you will do me an unspeak 
 able favor." 
 
 " Cease to do evil ; learn to do well. Is not 
 that a simple rule." 
 
 "And what is to become of the past?" asked 
 Harry, who was no longer endeavoring to conceal 
 under a light tone the real seriousness of his 
 thoughts. 
 
 "It is to be repented of and forgiven for 
 Christ's sake, and then he is to be loved and 
 served for his redeeming mercy. Open your 
 Bible, my dear friend, with an earnest prayer 
 for light on your path, and a firm resolution to 
 follow its guidance, and you will be led into all 
 truth. I see that we are nearly at home now. 
 Come and see me very soon, and may God bless 
 your endeavors to find him with eminent success." 
 
 Not a word more was spoken till the carriage 
 stopped at the door of Mrs. Waterford's house, 
 and with a silent shake of the hand the young 
 men parted. 
 
 Mr. Atherton went directly to his own room, 
 arid the moment that he had closed the door 
 knelt down and poured out the full tide of grati 
 tude which had been swelling his heart almost 
 to bursting. Time was obliterated. He stood at 
 the portals of Eternity, and in imagination Agnes 
 
HERBERT ATHERTON. 119 
 
 was beside him. What was it to him that life 
 divided them, if death could unite their souls in 
 everlasting bliss? Would he have dared to ask 
 that his earthly happiness should also be secured 
 by the possession of his heart's treasure ? No ! 
 He knew his own weakness, and thought perhaps 
 it were safer that he should be intrusted with no 
 fond heart here, lest it should withdraw his heart 
 from heaven. 
 
 " There I can love her with no fear of idolatry, 
 no dread of parting, no danger of change !" he 
 exclaimed with rapture. " We shall be forever 
 with the Lord !" 
 
 Hours had passed before the thoughts of Harry 
 Melville's affection cast a single shadow over the 
 pure joy of his spirit ; and then it was only 
 dimmed by the fear that her choice had fallen on 
 one who could not guide her loving heart aright. 
 Oh ! with what fervency he asked for him 
 Heaven's choicest gifts that spirit which alone 
 could make him a faithful soldier and servant of 
 Christ unto his life's end. The prayer was as 
 unselfish as that of a sinful mortal could be, and 
 it entered into the ear of the Lord of Sabaotk 
 
120 HERBERT ATHERTON. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 DISAPPOINTED HOPES. 
 
 " Beligions was the charm 
 
 I used affection to entice j 
 And thought none burnt more bright 
 
 HABINGDEN. 
 
 MRS. WATERFORD soon discovered, from the 
 appearance of her young friend, that something 
 had happened which gave him the purest joy. 
 In his brightest moments, there had always been 
 before traces of concealed anxiety, but now 
 it was evident that his cheerfulness sprang up 
 from an overflowing heart. Every duty was 
 lighter, every day more full of hope ; for if one 
 seed sown in faith had thus germinated, might 
 he not be planting many trees of righteousness, 
 to adorn hereafter the garden of the Lord. 
 
 It is a noble work to toil on in darkness, un- 
 cheered by hope, but oh, what a blessed relief 
 when a ray of light breaks through the clouds 
 to assure us that our labor is not in vain ! Now 
 Herbert dreaded no future event, for he had 
 
HERBERT ATHERTON. 121 
 
 long felt that the only incurable sorrow that 
 could befall him would be the hopeless death of 
 his beloved Agnes. Often, in the twilight, he 
 would sit gazing upon the mouldering embers 
 on the hearth, and thinking, with inexpressible 
 pleasure, of the time when he might enjoy that 
 full communion of saints which can only be per 
 fect when their holiness is secured forever. 
 Then what sweet interchange there would be of 
 thought and affection ! for here we see not only 
 our Lord, but each other, through a glass, dark 
 ly ; but there our whole hearts can be revealed, 
 fearless of displaying evil, or of unfolding feel 
 ings too deep to be understood. This was a 
 peculiarly delightful reflection to Herbert, for his 
 soul was filled with strong, earnest emotions that 
 he could not explain, and in which no friend sym 
 pathized ; and often the burden of loneliness 
 would have been insupportable if he had not 
 been allowed the inexpressible relief of opening 
 his heart to One who saw all its pulsations, and 
 pitied its yearning for more complete fellowship 
 than this earth can afford. 
 
 One evening during the week preceding 
 Christmas, Herbert was sitting in his own room, 
 thinking with what thankfulness he should that 
 
 year welcome that ever joyful festival, when 
 11 
 
122 HERBERT ATHERTON. 
 
 Frank came in with a letter which had just been 
 left at the door by one of the servants of Mr. 
 Melville. Herbert opened it hastily, but trem 
 bled violently when he saw a note from Harry 
 inclosing another in a delicate lady-like hand. 
 Harry had only written these few words : 
 
 " I have received the inclosed letter, which I beg you to 
 read. It has made me very miserable. Pray that I may 
 have strength to bear this unexpected blow." 
 
 The letter was from Miss Cameron, in answer 
 to one which Harry Melville had addressed to 
 her informing her of his own good resolutions, and 
 asking to be considered as a suitor for her hand. 
 It ran thus : 
 
 " Your letter which I have just received has filled 
 my heart with mingled emotions of joy and sorrow. I 
 congratulate you most earnestly upon having formed a res 
 olution henceforth to lead a righteous life, and ' I pray 
 unto God to give you his grace that you may continue in 
 the same.' How can we express our thankfulness, that our 
 feet have been arrested in their downward course, and 
 placed upon the Rock of Ages ! 
 
 " One of the greatest hindrances to my own happiness 
 at present, is the remembrance of the irreparable injury 
 that I must have inflicted upon others, in the days of folly 
 and sin. How often have I thought of the Sabbath morn 
 ing which we passed together, and the worse than idle 
 words which we then spoke ! I am most grateful to be re 
 lieved from the fe? 1 * of having confirmed you in the ways 
 
HERBERT ATHKRTON. 123 
 
 of evil, by the manner in which I ridiculed all that was 
 excellent. Xow that we have discovered the plague of our 
 own hearts, we can no longer wonder at the inconsistencies 
 of Christians, for they too have to struggle Against evil 
 natures and evil examples as long as they live. 
 
 " You say that I have been the instrument by which you 
 have been led to ponder your ways, and that you think 
 your future progress would be insured if you could always 
 be favored with rny beneficial influence. I may have seem 
 ed the principal agent in arresting your attention ; but I 
 acted by the will of One, who has loved you with an ever 
 lasting love, and who, if you trust in Him, will always 
 supply such means as are adapted to promote your growth 
 in grace and holiness. I should dislike much, to believe 
 that your present resolutions depended upon myself, for I 
 cannot give you any hope of becoming your companion in 
 that path, which, I trust, we are both sincere in desiring to 
 tread. 
 
 "Do you not find that in the clear light, which has 
 recently fallen upon your soul, many acts that appeared 
 innocent, were worthy of entire condemnation ? This is a 
 discovery which I have made in reviewing that conduct 
 which gave you reason to hope that I reciprocated your 
 affection. I was then in the habit of receiving all the 
 attention that was offered to me, without ever asking 
 whether I was encouraging expectations which I could not 
 answer ; and when I found that this had been the case, an 
 emotion of triumph was the only one which was excited. 
 I had, however, a particular fancy for your society, and 
 was not at all sure, myself, that any proposal on your part 
 would not meet with a favorable reception. You were 
 witty, and amused me, and no hypocrite, which pleased me. 
 I was aware that you were idle and dissipated ; but I did 
 not expect morality in any man but a religious one, and no 
 .person who had any seriousness of mind could consistently 
 desire such a trifler for a wife. Had my views continued 
 
124: HERBERT ATHERTON. 
 
 unaltered, it is more than probable that your suit would 
 have received an answer in the affirmative, and two thought 
 less lives would have been linked together. 
 
 " How different are my present feelings ! Marriage seems 
 to me a momentous step, which will quicken or retard my 
 progress towards heaven, and which needs most earnest 
 effort and prayer for the proper fulfilment of its arduous 
 duties. Moreover, I cannot think that there is any other 
 justifiable foundation for this connection than a deep and 
 true affection, and this you have never excited ; nor do I 
 believe that the best love of which the heart is capable, can 
 ever be called forth by any one whose noblest qualities 
 have not been developed by sanctifying grace. Still, even 
 were my affections engaged, my reason would not plead in 
 your favor. We have both the mournful past to redeem, 
 and its long-cherished habits of evil to conquer, and need 
 some one to aid us, who is farther advanced in Christian 
 knowledge. Besides, we are by nature impulsive and rash, 
 quick-tempered and easily led astray; and, therefore, we 
 should be in perpetual danger of drawing each other into 
 error. You need a quiet, gentle wife, rich in Christian 
 meekness and sobriety, and untainted by worldliness, whose 
 very presence will act as a sedative upon your excitable 
 spirit. I want, in a companion, manly decision and calm 
 strength, with a dignity which can keep me in awe, and a 
 force of principle that can resist all my influence. Would 
 it be right, then, for me to choose one who might retard 
 my upward progress, or to place a stumbling-block in your 
 way? 
 
 " I know that you will not think calmly of this matter, 
 now, and I fear that you will be tempted to return 
 to the sins which you have just renounced. But oh, 
 think of the misery which, according to your acknowledg 
 ment, they always occasioned, and for your own sake, hold 
 fast to the principles which you first examined for mine. 
 Too much of human love has entered into your religious 
 
HERBERT ATHERTON. 125 
 
 feelings to make them acceptable in His sight, who will not- 
 give his honor to another. No idol must -intervene be 
 tween our hearts and our Saviour, or our prayers will not 
 reach his ears. Try and think that he has, in mercy, dis 
 appointed your earthly hopes, and bestow upon Him the 
 love which has been offered to one so unworthy. 
 
 " I shall not be happy till I hear that you have forgiven 
 me for having, apparently, trifled with your affection, and 
 that you are steadfast in your resolutions to lead a new life. 
 "Write and tell me that you are not angry with me for the 
 error which I so deeply deplore, and if we cannot be con 
 nected by a nearer tie, still own me as your sincere friend, 
 
 "AGNES CAMEEOX." 
 
 When Herbert had finished reading this letter, 
 tears of gratitude sprang to his eyes, and he ex 
 claimed aloud, " Blessed be God for all his mer^ 
 cies ! My Agnes is indeed a Christian." Again 
 he perused the epistle, with the same deep in 
 terest as at first, and again he ended with a fer 
 vent ejaculation of thanksgiving. 
 
 The sight of Harry's note recalled the pain 
 which he must have suffered from the knowledge 
 that his hopes were groundless, and this reflec 
 tion moderated his own joyful emotions. " Poor 
 fellow !" he thought, " I must go to him directly. 
 No chastening for the present seemeth joyous, 
 and now he feels his to be grievous indeed ; yet 
 I know that in the end it will bring forth the 
 
 peaceable fruits of righteousness." With one 
 11* 
 
126 HERBERT ATHERTON. 
 
 more affectionate glance at Miss Cameron's let 
 ter, as he replaced it in the envelope and put it 
 into his bosom, Herbert left his apartment, and 
 directed his steps towards the dwelling of his 
 new friend. 
 
 It might seem almost incredible that while so 
 devoted in his affection to Agnes, Herbert had 
 not even thought that Harry's disappointment 
 gave him more reason to hope that his own 
 earthly happiness might yet be secured. But 
 Christianity had so entirely triumphed over 
 nature in his heart that he was for the time too 
 entirely absorbed in delight at this proof of the 
 change in Agnes, to remember that he had ever 
 had any wish except that she should become a 
 child of God. Then Harry occupied his thoughts 
 so completely that there was no room for the 
 intrusion of self, and he endeavored to devise 
 some way of convincing the sorrowful young 
 man that this blow was dealt in mercy. 
 
 Filled with such ideas, Herbert did not notice 
 that he had reached Mr. Melville's house till his 
 attention was attracted by the appearance of 
 Harry at the door. He put out his hand to the 
 latter kindly, and said, " I was just coming to 
 see you, but as you are going out, we can walk 
 together." 
 
HERBERT ATHERTON. 127 
 
 To this salutation Harry Melville made no 
 reply, but he turned towards his companion a 
 face so startling in its expression of misery that 
 Herbert exclaimed, " Do not go out anywhere 
 this evening. Indeed you are not well enough 
 to stir from home. Come back, and let us talk 
 over this matter which has made you so 
 wretched." 
 
 " Thank you !" replied Harry, in a voice of 
 strange and unnatural calmness, and without 
 moving a muscle of his rigid countenance. " I 
 am going to the theatre, which is a place you do 
 not fancy. Pray leave me to follow my own 
 course." As he said this, the wretched young 
 man hurried past Herbert, and with a quick step 
 walked towards the neighboring theatre. 
 
 " But you must speak to me," said Herbert, 
 following him, and laying his hand on his arm ; 
 " I cannot let you go." 
 
 " By what right do you detain me ?" asked 
 Harry, in the same lifeless tone, withdrawing 
 from the pressure of his hand as if it had been 
 lead. 
 
 Herbert paused an instant, and then an 
 swered, with a voice of deep emotion, " By 
 what right do I detain you ? By the right of 
 fellowship in suffering. I too have loved Agnes 
 
128 HERBERT ATHERTON. 
 
 Cameron, and know how hard a feeling it is to 
 conquer." 
 
 At these words, Harry turned towards his 
 companion a glance of surprise, and as he met 
 the soft eyes of the young clergyman fixed upon 
 him with an expression of the tenderest sympa 
 thy, the sternness passed from his own brow, and 
 extending his hand, he said, in broken accents, 
 " You feel for me ! I see that you do." 
 
 Herbert took the offered hand, and drawing it 
 within his own arm, led Harry back to his 
 father's house. " We will go up to your own 
 room," he said, " and I will tell you how truly I 
 can appreciate your present wretchedness." 
 
 Harry made no answer, but led the way to his 
 own apartment, and entering it, pointed to Her 
 bert a seat by the fire, and then closing the door, 
 turned the key and sank down in a chair, per 
 fectly exhausted. Herbert saw that his weak 
 ness was mental, rather than physical, and 
 therefore offered no assistance, but inwardly 
 prayed that this severe trial might be blessed to 
 his soul's health. 
 
 "When Harry removed his hands from his 
 face, it was perfectly colorless, and there was an 
 expression of despair in his bloodshot, sunken 
 eyes. Herbert gently approached him, and lay- 
 
HERBERT ATHERTON. 129 
 
 ing his hand kindly on his shoulder, said in a 
 soothing tone, 
 
 " My dear friend ! it is very, very hard. 
 Your Saviour grieves to make you thus suffer, as 
 a mother does to hear the cries of the child, 
 whom she is forced to wean from her breast. 
 He knows your every thought, and pities you 
 more tenderly than I can do. Only trust in Him, 
 and it will again be light." 
 
 His companion's face did not change at these 
 words ; but he uttered a low expression of impa 
 tience at the attempt to offer religious consola 
 tion. 
 
 " Shall I tell you," asked Herbert, " of my own 
 similar disappointment, and how I was enabled 
 to bear it?" 
 
 " Yes," replied his companion, without relax 
 ing a muscle. 
 
 With deep emotion, Herbert then related the 
 history of his acquaintance with Miss Cameron, 
 and described in the most touching manner the 
 desolation of his own heart, when he felt that its 
 idolatry must be renounced. 
 
 As Harry listened, his expression gradually 
 softened; and when the narrator closed, his 
 mood had entirely changed. He rose and walked 
 up and down <the room several times, wiping 
 
130 HEKBERT ATHEETOIT. 
 
 hastily away the tears which now moistened his 
 burning eyes, and seeking no longer to repress 
 the deep-drawn sighs which relieved his burdened 
 heart. Herbert watched him in silence till he 
 again resumed his seat, and then he said kindly, 
 
 " The day will come, Harry, when you will look 
 back to this hour, as I now do to that which sep 
 arated me from Agnes, with gratitude for the 
 love that spared no means which might secure my 
 eternal happiness." 
 
 "That can never be," said Harry quickly : "I 
 shall never see that this trial has been to me a 
 blessing. It will drive me back to perdition 
 my blood will be upon her head." 
 
 " Hush, hush, Harry ! you do not ^now what 
 you say. You will not renounce the hope of a 
 blessed heaven because you cannot choose your 
 companion for this life. Think of the misery of 
 sin, and the comparative happiness that you have 
 known since you have endeavored to lead a 
 holier life." 
 
 " But my every thought has been of her," he 
 replied, with deep emotion. " The anticipation 
 of heaven owed all its brightness to the idea that 
 she would share it." 
 
 " And is not that hope still left you ?" asked 
 Herbert, soothingly. "Who knows how short 
 
HERBERT ATHERTON. 131 
 
 your life may be ? and then come the blessed re 
 alities of a higher world and its endless joys." 
 
 "That is not to me a consoling thought," 
 rejoined Harry bitterly. " My soul is in no fit 
 condition to enter any abode of peace." 
 
 "Then you have something more to do on 
 earth than to lament over your own vanished 
 dreams of happiness. I fear, Harry, that the 
 work of repentance has not been thorough in your 
 heart, or you would more meekly receive the 
 discipline of a merciful God." 
 
 " You are right," said Harry, with sad vehe 
 mence; "my reformation has been most shal 
 low. I see it all now. It must have grievously 
 offended my Maker. You have no idea what a 
 wicked life I led. Faugh ! The very remem 
 brance of the scenes through which I have passed 
 is disgusting. Agnes knew, me too well. I am 
 not fit to associate with any pure-minded woman. 
 The stain of years of vice is upon my soul, and it 
 can never be washed out." 
 
 " Only by the blood of Christ," interposed 
 Herbert gently. 
 
 " I know that his blood cleanseth from all sin," 
 replied Harry more meekly ; " but it cannot blot 
 out its remembrance from the polluted soul. Of 
 this you know nothing ; for I am sure that no 
 
132 HEEBEBT ATHERTOK. 
 
 man can have the purity of heart and elevation 
 of character which you possess who has ever 
 mingled in such debasing society as I have kept 
 for months and for years." 
 
 " I have not indeed been thus sorely tempted," 
 said the young clergyman, with deep humility. 
 " My early years were kept from the contagion 
 of vice ; and God allowed me when very young 
 to place myself under the shadow of his wings, 
 where I have since remained, free from those as 
 saults to which men of more excitable tempera 
 ments are so often exposed. But oh ! I can pity 
 those who have to struggle with the power of 
 habits so inveterate, and a memory so polluted, 
 as to be ever ready to become the handmaid of 
 sin." 
 
 Again there was a long pause, which Herbert 
 filled with one of those silent prayers that, so 
 often through 'the day, went up to his Maker, 
 hallowing every scene, and fitting him for every 
 varying circumstance of life. 
 
 Dark thoughts were in the mean time strug 
 gling in the soul of his companion. Well might 
 Harry shrink from the view of his own wasted 
 years, and those fearful scenes by which they had 
 been disgraced ! 
 
 Herbert knew that his friend must suffer 
 
HERBERT ATHERTON. 133 
 
 deeply before he could become a truly Christian 
 man ; but his heart bled at the sight of such 
 agony. He remained with him till late at night, 
 and when at last he rose to go, Harry exclaimed, 
 
 " If you will not stay, let me go home with 
 you. I fear to trust myself alone." 
 
 To this request Herbert gladly acceded, for he 
 knew that this might be the turning point in the 
 life of an immortal being, and he watched with 
 fearful interest for the rising of the day-star in 
 his darkened breast. 
 
 12 
 
184: HEKBEBT ATHEKTON. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 BERKLEY TRACT. 
 
 " But as I raved and grew more fierce and wild 
 
 At every word, 
 
 Methought I heard one calling * Child ;' 
 And I replied, ' My Lord.' " 
 
 WHEN Mrs. Waterford came down to breakfast 
 the next morning, she found Frank awaiting her 
 in the library, evidently full of some important 
 communication . 
 
 "Who do you think I saw in Mr. Atherton's 
 room just now, when I went to ask where my 
 lessons were?" he exclaimed in great excitement. 
 
 " I cannot even guess," replied Mrs. Waterford 
 very quietly, although she was surprised at the 
 question ; for she did not know that Herbert had 
 any friend in the city with whom he was suffi 
 ciently intimate to invite him to share his apart 
 ment in that unceremonious manner. 
 
 " Well, who in the world should it be," con 
 tinued Frank, "but that dissipated dandy Mr. 
 Harry Melville, who is always lounging about 
 the hotels, or driving tandem around the Park< n 
 
HERBERT ATHERTON. 135 
 
 " My son, I am astonished to hear you speak 
 so of any gentleman, especially of a guest of 
 mine, and a friend of Mr. Atkerton," said Mrs. 
 Waterford, seriously. 
 
 " ISTow, mother, that is too bad, to call such a 
 fellow a friend of his, when you know how good 
 he is," exclaimed Frank, reddening with indig 
 nation. 
 
 " Pray don't allow yourself to become so 
 much excited by a trifle, my dear. Do you re 
 member who was once reproached with being 
 the friend of publicans and sinners ? Mr. Ath- 
 erton is a true servant of his Divine Master, and 
 with whomsoever he may associate, be assured 
 that his chief object is to do them good." 
 
 c; I know that, mother, but I cannot bear to 
 have him go with a fellow that I heard aunt 
 Mary tell cousin James was not fit company for 
 him," said Frank. 
 
 " That might be," replied his mother, " for 
 James is very easily led astray ; but Mr. Ath- 
 erton can associate with Mr. Melville, I assure 
 you, without endangering either his character or 
 his reputation." 
 
 The conversation was here interrupted by the 
 entrance of the persons of whom they were 
 speaking, and when Mrs. Waterford saw Harry 
 
136 HERBERT ATHERTON. 
 
 Melville haggard with sleeplessness and excite 
 ment, she did not wonder that this new intimacy 
 had surprised Frank. She received the guest, 
 however, with great cordiality, and handed him 
 a seat near the fire, while Herbert placed him 
 self at the table, to read the morning lesson. 
 
 The psalm for the day was one with which 
 Harry was well acquainted ; why did it seem to 
 him now so peculiarly full of meaning ? Sunday 
 after Sunday he had heard the familiar words, 
 " Bless the Lord, oh, my soul, and all that is 
 within me, bless his holy name ;" why then did 
 he feel as if listening to a new revelation con 
 cerning the character of the Almighty when he 
 heard the announcement, 
 
 " The Lord is full of compassion and mercy, 
 of long suffering, and of great goodness. He 
 will not always be chiding, neither keepeth he 
 his anger forever. He hath not dealt with us 
 after our sins, nor rewarded us according to our 
 wickednesses. For look how high the heaven is 
 in comparison of the earth I so great is his mercy 
 also towards them that fear hinu Look how 
 wide also the east is from the west ! so far hath 
 he set our sins from us. Yea, like as a father 
 pitieth his children, so is the Lord merciful unto 
 them that fear him. For be knoweth whereof 
 
HERBERT ATHERTON. 137 
 
 we are made ; he remembereth that we are but 
 dust," 
 
 The tender assurances which this psalm con 
 tained of the love and forgiveness of the Al 
 mighty, and the child-like confidence with which 
 Herbert approached his heavenly Father, tran- 
 quilized the heart of the now truly penitent 
 youDg man, and he joined in the Lord's Prayer, 
 at the conclusion of the exercises, with deep 
 earnestness and humility. 
 
 " Are you fond of children ?" asked Herbert, 
 as he saw that his new friend was trying to wile 
 little Fanny to his side, while they were await 
 ing a summons to- breakfast. 
 
 " Very much so ; I only wish that they had 
 always been with me," replied Harry, as he 
 placed the little girl on his knee, and put his 
 arm affectionately around her. The young, fair 
 head, with its soft curls, leaning so confidingly 
 on his breast, seemed to warm his very heart, 
 and pressing her closer to his side, he wished 
 that it were possible to regain the bliss of child 
 like innocence. 
 
 " Are not your eyes very weak?" asked Fanny, 
 as she looked up inquiringly to the softened 
 countenance of her new friend. 
 
 He smiled, as he brushed away the unconscious 
 12* 
 
138 HERBERT ATHERTON. 
 
 tear which had drawn forth the question, and 
 said gently, " Sometimes they are very weak, 
 when I look at dear little children." 
 
 Before Fanny could inquire what was meant 
 by this remark, breakfast was announced. "When 
 the family were seated at the table, Mrs. Water- 
 ford observed, turning to Herbert, 
 
 "I have a favor to ask of you to-day, for 
 Frank. Will you allow his holidays to com 
 mence this morning ? He then will be able to 
 pay a visit to his uncle at Holmwood, and return 
 in time to spend Christmas here." 
 
 " Certainly," replied Herbert, with a grateful 
 smile, for he saw that Mrs. Waterford, with 
 womanly tact, had divined that this arrangement 
 would be as much for his convenience as for the 
 pleasure of her son. " I will take him to Holm- 
 wood myself this morning," he added ; " for it is 
 on the road to the Berkley Tract, where the 
 Browns are living ; and I had been for some time 
 anxious to pay them a visit. You will go with 
 us, Harry, will you not?" 
 
 " That depends upon who the Browns are, 
 though I am in a mood for doing any thing that 
 you wish this morning," said Harry, looking at 
 the young clergyman with such mingled respect 
 and affection, that Frank inwardly forgave him 
 
HERBERT ATHERTON. 139 
 
 for aspiring to the friendship of his beloved pre 
 ceptor. 
 
 "Well then, Frank," continued Mr. Atherton, 
 " with your mother's consent, I will then set you 
 down at Holinwood. You must be ready to start 
 at ten o'clock." 
 
 During the ride to Holmwood, Herbert de 
 voted himself to his pupil ; but when he had de 
 posited Frank at that place, he seated himself by 
 Harry, and gave him an account of the Browns. 
 He did not, however, mention the midnight visit 
 to the dwelling of Mrs. "Waterford, as he had 
 promised that this should remain a secret. His 
 auditor listened with much interest to the narra 
 tive, and was curious to learn what had been the 
 result of the philanthropic experiment proposed 
 by Mr. Nugent. 
 
 " You must not expect to find that Tom's refor 
 mation is yet perfect," said Herbert,- " for he has 
 much to struggle against, and we can only hope 
 for gradual improvement." 
 
 " I certainly shall not expect an entire change," 
 replied Harry, with deep humility ; " for, after 
 months of effort, I have only just begun to see 
 the depths of my own wickedness." 
 
 "You have taken one very important step 
 towards amendment," said Herbert, encouraging- 
 
140 HERBERT ATHERTON. 
 
 ly, "if you have become fully convinced that 
 your own depravity is fathomless. I hope that 
 this visit to poor Tom will cheer you ; for I trust 
 that he will, at least, be able to say that he is 
 happier in struggling for good than yielding to 
 evil." 
 
 The spot on which the travellers alighted was 
 a cold, dreary-looking plain. The only habita 
 tions visible were a few straggling shanties, 
 rudely built; and these would have seemed de 
 serted were it not for the thin wreaths of smoke 
 which rose from their solitary chimneys. 
 
 " One of these must be Tom's," said Herbert, 
 as he directed his steps towards the nearest 
 cabin. 
 
 " He must have been in a wretched plight 
 before, if his present abode is an improvement," 
 said Harry, as, shivering, he buttoned his light 
 overcoat more closely over his breast. 
 
 On knocking at the door of this humble dwell 
 ing, it was opened by a pleasant, tidy-looking 
 woman, whom Mr. Atherton at once recognized 
 as an old acquaintance. As soon as Sally Brown 
 became aware who her visitor was, her face 
 lighted up with joy, and she exclaimed, 
 
 " Oh sir, is it you ! How good in you to come 
 so far to see us. Walk in ! I am so glad you 
 
HERBERT ATHERTON. 141 
 
 have come, for I wanted you to know how happy 
 you had made us !" 
 
 The apartment into which Herbert and his 
 friend were ushered was the only one that the 
 cabin contained ; but it was perfectly neat and 
 comfortable. The rude bed, in one corner, was 
 covered with sheets of irreproachable whiteness, 
 and the table, in the other, was set for two per- ' 
 sons, with a scrupulous regard to order. But the 
 object which attracted the attention of Mr. 
 Atherton was a small pine stand, on which lay 
 a Bible and Prayer-book. Sally saw the direc 
 tion of his eyes, and said gratefully, 
 
 " Oh ! those blessed books ! What a comfort 
 they have been to us ! Tom reads in them in the 
 morning, before he goes to his work, and at night 
 when he comes home ; and that helps us to get 
 through the week." 
 
 Herbert's fine eyes sparkled with pleasure at 
 this information. 
 
 " Is Tom at work far from here ?" he asked ; 
 " for our stay must be short." 
 
 " Quite a piece, sir," she replied ; " but he will 
 be home in a moment to dinner. You must be 
 hungry yourselves, gentlemen, and I hope you'll 
 share his bit with him." 
 
 Young Melville was rather annoyed at this in- 
 
142 HERBERT ATHERTON. 
 
 vitation ; for dining with a burglar in such a 
 shanty was a new sort of entertainment, not quite 
 adapted to please his fastidious taste ; but Her 
 bert answered cordially, 
 
 "To be sure we will. That piece of bacon 
 which I see thumping against the kettle cover, 
 as it boils, will be very acceptable after our cold 
 ride." 
 
 " There he comes I" exclaimed Sally, as she 
 rushed out of the house to announce to her hus 
 band the joyful intelligence of Mr. Atherton's 
 visit. 
 
 Herbert was well aware of the effect of expres 
 sion upon the human countenance ; but still he 
 was not prepared for the manifest improvement 
 in the whole appearance of Tom Brown. His 
 brutal ferocity of manner had entirely disap 
 peared, leaving only an air of manly indepen 
 dence ; and his voice was even gentle in its tone, 
 as he said with much emotion, 
 
 " I cannot tell you what I feel at seeing you. 
 Only remember what we were when you first 
 knew us, and you can imagine how grateful we 
 ought to be to God and to you, sir. Every mor 
 sel of bread is sweeter from knowing that it is 
 honestly earned." 
 
 " The gentlemen, perhaps, will taste some of it 
 
HERBERT AtflERTON. 
 
 now," said Sally, as she put the smoking potatoes 
 and bacon upon the table, and placed two wooden 
 chairs for the guests. 
 
 Harry declined the invitation, but it was not 
 pride which now prevented its acceptance. His 
 heart had been too much touched by the sight of 
 Brown and his gratitude, for him to remember 
 that there was any social distinction between 
 them. 
 
 "Don't mind Mr. Melville," said Herbert 
 pleasantly. " He is used to late dinners, and 
 will find his own ready when we return to town. 
 Sit down, Tom, for I know that you have not 
 long to spare." 
 
 ""Will you ask a blessing, sir," said Tom re 
 spectfully, before seating himself in the vacant 
 chair opposite to the young clergyman. 
 
 Herbert complied instantly with this request, 
 and added a few words of thanksgiving to Him 
 who had called these, his children, out of dark 
 ness into light, commending them for the future 
 to his never-failing guidance and protection. 
 
 Tom could not help remembering the time 
 when he had first heard that voice in prayer, and 
 was overcome by a deep sense of the mercy of 
 God in having thus saved him from destruc 
 tion. 
 
144 HERBERT ATHERTON. 
 
 "Is there any church near you?" asked Mr. 
 Atherton, when Sally had dried up the tears in 
 which her agitated feelings had at length found 
 relief. 
 
 " Yes, sir," she said ; " only about two miles 
 off, and we always go to it on Sunday. The 
 minister has been to see us several times, and he 
 talks so plain that we can understand every word 
 that he says." 
 
 " And is it always easy to do right now, Tom ?" 
 asked Herbert, more for the benefit of his friend 
 than for his own information. 
 
 Tom sighed deeply as he answered, 
 
 " Oh no ! Doing right will always be uphill 
 work for me, I fear ; but it gets something easier, 
 and I am so busy at work now that I don't have 
 much time to get into mischief. Then my old 
 woman here is so happy, that I really can't have 
 the heart to do any thing to vex her. She's 
 picked up wonderfully, hasn't she ? A faithful 
 wife Sally's been to me." 
 
 This heartfelt testimony to her own worth 
 made Sally apply the corner of her apron to her 
 eyes again ; but Mr. Atherton diverted her 
 thoughts by taking from his pocket a package 
 that contained a number of excellent tracts, and 
 some nice warm stockings, which were a present 
 
HERBERT ATHERTON. 145 
 
 from Mrs. Waterford. As he did so, the whistle 
 of the locomotive was heard in the distance, and 
 with a kind farewell to their humble friends, the 
 gentlemen hurried to the cars. 
 
 While returning to the city, Herbert and his 
 companion preserved an almost unbroken silence. 
 The latter was reflecting deeply upon the scene 
 they had left, and the purifying effects of Chris 
 tianity. During the last night his whole life had 
 passed in review before him, and he was over 
 whelmed by the conviction that most of his sins 
 had inflicted even more injury upon others 
 than upon himself. To how many of his fellow- 
 beings who were now beyond the reach of his 
 influence, had he given the first impulse in that 
 downward course which had ended in their per 
 dition ? Fearful thought! No wonder that it 
 blanched his cheek with horror. 
 
 "And this man," he said to himself, " has been 
 imprisoned for two years, for a crime, lighter 
 perhaps in the sight of his Maker, than those 
 which I daily committed ! And I who am stained 
 with the blood of souls, walk at large in the very 
 society for whose good he was condemned to 
 punishment. True, he violated human law, and 
 therefore rightly suffered its penalty ; but surely, 
 in another world, God will visit with heavier dis 
 
 13 
 
146 HERBERT ATHERTON. 
 
 pleasure those sins for which there is here no 
 retribution. Poor Mary Harris ! I wish she would 
 not haunt me thus, reproaching me as her de 
 stroyer. It is a wonder that I have not been cut 
 off in the midst of my sins. Blessed be God 
 that he < hath not rewarded me according to my 
 wickedness.' r 
 
 Herbert's reflections were of a brighter charac 
 ter. Since the perusal of Miss Cameron's letter, 
 he had been so much engrossed in Harry, that 
 he had not been able to dwell upon its contents ; 
 but now, he abandoned himself to the delightful 
 thought that his beloved Agnes was not only a 
 Christian, but free in heart and hand. Yet, how 
 could he become a suitor for the latter, when in 
 no situation to provide for the comfort of another? 
 For the first time, he wished that he were settled 
 in a permanent home, and in receipt of a salary- 
 adequate to the maintenance of a family. But 
 this thought hardly overshadowed his joy, for he 
 felt assured that if Providence intended that his 
 earthly pilgrimage should be cheered by her so 
 ciety, all obstacles to their union would be re 
 moved. Besides, it would be useless to suffer 
 any annoyance on this account, when it was en 
 tirely uncertain whether Agnes ever had felt, or 
 ever would feel for him that degree of affection 
 
HERBERT ATHERTON. 14:7 
 
 which she believed to be indispensable to the 
 happiness of any marriage. 
 
 Herbert had learned from long experience, 
 that it is impossible to ponder upon the possible 
 issue of future events, without becoming involved 
 in anxiety and sadness, and that the insecurity of 
 all earthly happiness makes its anticipation, 
 sometimes, almost a pain. He therefore ban 
 ished from his mind all questionings as to what 
 might be his earthly lot, and passed in thought 
 to that only future upon which the soul can re 
 pose in full security. It was sweeter to him, to 
 dwell on an eternity of love in the presence of 
 his blessed Saviour, than to think of a few fleet 
 ing years of checkered joy and sorrow, termi 
 nating, at last, in death. 
 
 As these two young men, so near in age, and 
 so equal in intellectual advantages, thus sat side 
 by side, absorbed in meditation, their counte 
 nances might have seemed as indexes to their 
 varied trains of thought. Harry's face was as 
 dark and as changeful as the sky when the clouds 
 of a late storm are drifting over it, while on Her 
 bert's calm brow there dwelt the untroubled se 
 renity of heaven's own azure depths. But, as 
 time passed on, Harry's countenance brightened, 
 and one might almost see " the tempest passing 
 
148 HERBERT ATHERTON, 
 
 by, as evening shadows quickly fly," and hope 
 that the hour was near when his heart, too, 
 would be filled with tranquillity and content 
 ment. 
 
 " Is it possible we are here ?" he asked, as the 
 cars entered the depot. "What a short ride ! 
 "We must part now, Mr. Atherton, for I have 
 already trespassed too long upon your society, 
 and I hope that for a time, at least, I shall be 
 safe in my own. There is much evil that may 
 yet be undone, and life is too short for me to 
 waste another moment. I shall come and see 
 you again as soon as I can, and in the mean time 
 pray for me." 
 
 A silent pressure of the hand was Mr. Ather- 
 ton's only reply ; but he followed the retreating 
 form of the young man with a glance of deep in 
 terest and affection ; and then, with a heart over 
 flowing with gratitude, he directed his own steps 
 towards the hospitable dwelling of Mrs, Water- 
 ford, which was to him the most delightful of 
 homes. 
 
HERBERT ATHERTON. 149 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 " If I had not lived for thee, 
 Thou hadst died most wretchedly." HERBERT. 
 
 IN approaching the village of Holmwood, Her- 
 bert had been attracted by the appearance of an 
 edifice which Frank had informed him was the 
 new Episcopal church. It was a Gothic struc 
 ture, built of rough stone, in the early English 
 style ; and though simple and comparatively un- 
 expensive, it was capacious and substantial. The 
 rectory adjoining displayed the same union of 
 judgment and taste; and both buildings were 
 surrounded by beautiful evergreens, which gave 
 them, even in the depth of winter, a cheerful and 
 attractive aspect. 
 
 The congregation for whose use this edifice 
 had been erected, was chiefly composed of per 
 sons who were employed in the neighboring 
 manufactories, or engaged in agricultural pur 
 suits. There were, however, a few gentlemen 
 belonging to the parish who occupied the adja- 
 
 13* 
 
150 HERBERT ATHERTON, 
 
 cent country-seats, but transacted business in the 
 city, which was only a few miles distant. Among 
 these gentlemen Mr. James Waterford was alike 
 conspicuous for the soundness of his churchman- 
 ship and the fervor of his piety. To him had 
 been intrusted the supervision of the new church, 
 which owed much to his cultivated taste and 
 liberal contributions. There now devolved upon 
 him the still more arduous task of selecting a 
 rector, though the responsibility was nominally 
 shared by the three other members of the com 
 mittee appointed for that purpose. 
 
 In order to judge of the intellectual capacity 
 of different clergymen, Mr. Waterford had re 
 cently spent several Sundays in town, and on one 
 of these he attended service at the Chapel of St. 
 Barnabas. The discourse to which he listened 
 seemed to his critical ear to evince more piety 
 than talent ; and though much pleased with the 
 appearance and manner of the young clergyman, 
 he decided in his own mind that he had not suffi 
 cient force of intellect to build up a new parish. 
 He imparted his views on this subject to his 
 sister-in-law, Mrs. George Waterford, who was 
 somewhat piqued at having her favorite thus 
 undervalued, though very averse to the idea of 
 his being called away from the city. When 
 
HERBERT ATHERTON* 151 
 
 Frank Went to visit his uncle, he carried him a 
 volume of sermons, one of which had been written 
 by the Rev. Herbert Atherton. Mr. Waterford 
 smiled at the determination of his sister to make 
 him a convert to her own opinion, but read the 
 sermon with candid attention, and was struck 
 with the transparency of style, beauty of illustra 
 tion, and vigor of thought which it displayed. 
 He remembered then that the discourse to which 
 he had listened was adapted to men who were 
 little above children in capacity, and was some 
 what mortified at having, under such circum 
 stances, passed so decisive an opinion with re 
 gard to the abilities of the preacher. 
 
 When Frank returned home, his uncle accom 
 panied him, and after paying a long visit to the 
 bishop of that diocese, Mr. Waterford requested 
 a private interview with Mr. Atherton. The 
 latter was much surprised at the offer of the 
 rectorship of the Church of the Messiah, at Holm- 
 wood, and such was his interest in the congrega 
 tion of the Chapel of St. Barnabas, that he felt 
 inclined at once to give a decisive negative to 
 the proposal. He remembered, after a moment's 
 reflection, that so important a step should not be 
 taken without due consideration, and therefore 
 consented to postpone his answer till the 1st of 
 
152 HERBEET ATHEETON. 
 
 March. He also made many inquiries with re 
 gard to the state of the parish, and particularly 
 desired to know whether it contained many per 
 sons upon whom the rector might rely for co 
 operation and sympathy. Mr. Waterford assured 
 him that the members of the vestry, though some 
 of them were deficient in education, were all ex 
 cellent men, who were zealous for the glory of 
 God, and in promoting the highest welfare of his 
 Church. He also begged Mr. Atherton, with 
 whom he was becoming every instant more 
 pleased, that he would pay him a visit, and judge 
 for himself if the situation of which his accept 
 ance was so warmly urged was not one in which 
 he would not be useful and happy. Herbert 
 readily consented to visit Holmwood at his ear 
 liest convenience, and thought that if there were 
 many persons there who equalled Mr. Waterford 
 in acquaintance with Bible truth, and thorough 
 knowledge of church affairs, the position would 
 indeed be most desirable. 
 
 And yet, thought the spiritually-minded cler 
 gyman, after the departure of Mr. "Waterford, 
 the place in which a minister is most comforta 
 ble, is that in which he is really least needed. 
 Where the church-officers are all men of high- 
 toned piety, the congregation by whom they are 
 
ATHERTON, 153 
 
 elected, must be of the same stamp^ and all 
 ministrations are blessed to those prayerfully 
 anxious for improvement. Ought I to select a 
 field of such comparatively easy labor ? It is a 
 most encouraging work to " strengthen those who 
 stand, " but I feel as if it were my appointed 
 mission to comfort and help the weak-hearted, 
 and to raise up those who are fallen. 
 
 These meditations were interrupted by the re 
 ceipt of a note from Harry Melville, who en 
 treated his friend to come immediately to a 
 hotel, which he specified, and see a young man 
 who was very ill. " He asked, a few minutes 
 since, for a clergyman," wrote Harry, " and has 
 now his reason, but it may leave him any mo 
 ment ; and if so, the physician says there is no 
 hope. Come at once." 
 
 Herbert did not delay an instant, but hurried 
 to the hotel and inquired for Mr. Barlow's rooms. 
 As he approached the door of the apartment to 
 which he was directed, a piercing shriek met his 
 ear, followed by a succession of low wails of 
 agony. On entering the room, he saw Harry 
 holding down, by main force, a slender young 
 man, who in a perfect state of phrensy was try 
 ing to spring from his bed. 
 
 " How long has he been thus ?" asked Her- 
 
154. HERBERT ATHERTOtf. 
 
 bert, in a low tone, as he softly approached the 
 couch. 
 
 Harry started at the sound of Herbert's voice^ 
 and exclaimed in bitter agony, " You are too 
 late ! His mind has gone* I have destroyed 
 him." 
 
 Before any reply could be made to this re 
 morseful assertion, the wretched victim of self* 
 indulgence made a sudden spring, and throwing 
 Harry aside, as if he had been a child, bounded 
 with a fearful scream towards the half-open 
 door. Two men, who had been attracted to the 
 spot by his cries, now burst into the room and 
 aided in securing the unfortunate young man^ 
 and after binding him fast, they placed him 
 again upon the couch. There he lay for some 
 moments in a state of perfect exhaustion, and 
 then commenced a terrible struggle for freedom. 
 Suddenly this ceased, and a ray of reason for an 
 instant illumined his wild eyes. He fixed them 
 steadily on Harry, who was leaning over him in 
 breathless anxiety, and said, in a calm, sepul 
 chral tone, "Do you gloat over your work? 
 You first tempted me to drink : you have been 
 my ruin." Then he uttered another fright 
 ful yell, and rolling his eyes wildly around, 
 screamed out, "Vipers! snakes! scorpions ! They 
 
HERBERT ATHERTON 155 
 
 spring on me. They hiss at me. They sting 
 me!" 
 
 At these fearful cries, Harry's face became 
 perfectly colorless, and he would have fallen to 
 the floor, if it had not been for the timely sup 
 port of Herbert's arm. 
 
 " Stay here for a moment," said the latter to 
 the strangers who had come in to their assist 
 ance. " My friend must breathe the air." 
 
 "No, no !" said Harry, with returning strength; 
 " I must not leave him. Let me do all that I can 
 for him now." 
 
 " But, Harry, you are not strong enough to be 
 of any use, and another person will do just as 
 well. Has he no friends in the city for whom we 
 can send ?" 
 
 " I must stay myself," said Harry firmly. "It 
 is my just punishment. Ralph is a stranger here, 
 and he has no near relations in the world but his 
 mother. We telegraphed to her this noon, and 
 she must arrive very soon." 
 
 A moment after there was a gentle tap at the 
 door, and then a light step tottered across the 
 floor, and the slender form of an elderly female, 
 dressed in deep mourning, knelt beside that 
 couch of suffering. She was a widow, and he 
 was her only son. 
 
156 HERBERT ATfiERTOtt. 
 
 "Can the world of torment be worse than 
 this!" exclaimed Harry, as he listened to the 
 heart-broken sobs of the wretched mother, 
 " Speak to her, Herbert, or she will die." 
 
 He did not speak to her, for her grief was too 
 mighty for human consolation ; but, following an 
 involuntary impulse, he threw himself on his 
 knees at her side, and poured out so fervent a 
 petition for divine aid, that even the frantic suf 
 ferer remained quiet till its conclusion. Then the 
 widow arose, and, putting her arm round the 
 neck of her son, laid her face softly to his, as if 
 he had been a sick child. 
 
 The gentle touch seemed to rouse him to half 
 consciousness, for he fixed his dark eyes mourn 
 fully upon her sad face, and, lifting up his fettered 
 hand, patted her thin cheek tenderly, and said 
 in a gentle tone, " You are sorry, mother, I know. 
 Don't grieve for me. You did your duty." 
 
 In another instant the lucid interval was past, 
 and, with a loud scream of agony, he burst the 
 fetters from his hands, and aimed a blow at Her 
 bert, who was standing at his side. It did not 
 injure him, but another stroke sent Harry reeling 
 to the ground. He rose, however, unhurt, and, 
 assisted by the two strangers, succeeded in again 
 securing the arms of the now raving maniac. 
 
HERBERT ATHERTON. 157 
 
 The soul-stricken mother now became fearfully 
 calm. 
 
 "Will you go to the nearest physician?" she 
 said to one of the men who stood gazing on the 
 scene with deep sympathy. " He must be bled 
 instantly. And you, sir," she added, turning to 
 Harry, " had better leave us now. You are very 
 pale, and these two gentlemen will be able to 
 take care of the poor boy." 
 
 " Go, Harry," said Herbert. " You can be of 
 no use to him here, but you can pray for him 
 elsewhere ; and if there is the least improvement, 
 you shall be sent for instantly. Go, I beseech 
 you." 
 
 With a despairing look, Harry at last consented 
 to withdraw, and then Mrs. Barlow asked for the 
 particulars of her son's illness. Herbert could 
 give her no information ; but on the arrival of 
 the physician, she learned that only the day be 
 fore the poor fellow was in perfect health. 
 
 He was so furious now that it was almost im 
 possible to bleed him ; but after the operation 
 was performed, he grew more quiet. 
 
 " He is better," said the mother an hour after 
 wards, when she saw that her son was perfectly 
 tranquil. 
 
 The physician shook his head, and felt the 
 
 14 
 
158 HERBERT ATHERTON. 
 
 pulse of his patient with an expression of deep 
 concern. 
 
 "Is he going?" whispered Herbert. 
 
 " Failing rapidly," was the brief reply. 
 
 "May he not have his senses? There is in 
 telligence in his eye," said Herbert, as he watched 
 the now pallid face of the invalid with fearful 
 interest. 
 
 "It is possible, but not probable," said the 
 physician. " He cannot last more than an hour." 
 
 Herbert did not wait for another word, but 
 approached the bedside very gently, and fixing 
 his eyes on the sufferer, repeated in a low tone 
 the fifty-first Psalm. "Was he mistaken in sup 
 posing that Ralph moved his lips, as if following 
 him? With still deeper solemnity he now re 
 cited the history of the penitent thief, adding, 
 from a memory richly stored with the promises 
 of God, all such as were most encouraging and 
 abundant in mercy. As he did so, the eyes of 
 the dying man fixed upon him with the most in 
 tense and mournful earnestness, and a tear stole 
 out upon his pallid cheek. 
 
 "He understands what you say, perfectly," 
 exclaimed the agonized mother. " Oh, pray with 
 him !" 
 
 There was a fearful stillness in that chamber, 
 
HERBERT ATHKBTOX. 159 
 
 while the clergyman offered a prayer which has 
 ushered many a soul into eternity : 
 
 " O most gracious Father, we fly unto thee for 
 mercy in behalf of this thy servant, here lying 
 under the sudden visitation of thine hand. If it 
 be thy will, preserve his life, that there may be 
 place for repentance ; but if thou hast otherwise 
 appointed, let thy mercy supply to him the want 
 of the usual opportunity for the trimming of his 
 lamp. Stir up in him such sorrow for sin, and 
 such fervent love to thee, as may in a short time 
 do the work of many days : that among the 
 praises which thy saints and holy angels shall 
 sing to the honor of thy mercy through eternal 
 ages, it may be to thy unspeakable glory that 
 thou hast redeemed the soul of this thy servant 
 from eternal death, and made him partaker of 
 the everlasting life, which is through Jesus 
 Christ our Lord." 
 
 Before the prayer was ended, a spirit had 
 passed into the hands of its Creator. 
 
 " Leave me," said the childless widow ; " I 
 must be alone with God." 
 
 An hour afterwards, Herbert came, softly to 
 the door and asked admittance. Mrs. Barlow 
 opened it, calmly ; but he started at the change 
 which that brief space had wrought upon her 
 
160 HERBERT ATHERTON, 
 
 whole appearance, and could with difficulty com 
 mand himself enough to explain the reason of 
 his intrusion. At length he said, in a broken 
 voice, 
 
 " Would you like some female friend with you 
 to-night? An excellent lady, Mrs. "Waterford, 
 will come and stay with you here ; or if you pre 
 fer it, Ralph can be removed to her dwelling." 
 
 " ]STo," she replied, with an unfaltering voice ; 
 " let him remain here till he is carried to his last 
 resting-place. I should like the company of Mrs. 
 Waterford for a little while ; but if possible, will 
 you make arrangements for carrying my poor 
 boy home to-night ?" 
 
 Herbert withdrew instantly, and drove rapidly 
 to Mrs. Waterford's dwelling, accompanied by 
 Harry Melville, whose very reason seemed totter 
 ing with mental agony. " He came here but six 
 months since," he said, " a bright, happy boy. 
 I tempted him to drink wine and brandy, 
 laughed at his scruples, introduced him to a 
 gambling-house, persuaded him that Christians 
 were hypocrites, and did all in my power to 
 destroy his soul. How can I hope to be for 
 given ?" 
 
 " But God, in his mercy, may have saved you 
 from this awful guilt," said his companion, 
 
HERBERT ATHERTON. 161 
 
 soothingly. " We know not in how short a time 
 a soul may find mercy, and from the expression 
 of Ralph's dying countenance, I am full of hope 
 that he fled in his extremity to the only refuge 
 of sinners." 
 
 " You really think this possible !" exclaimed 
 Harry, as eagerly as a drowning man would 
 snatch at the means of rescue. "But no! an 
 offended God cannot thus easily be pacified," he 
 added, mournfully. 
 
 " There is no limit to his mercy, when sought 
 in the name, and for the sake, of our blessed 
 Saviour," said Herbert, solemnly. " I know that 
 there are those who think that evil may ensue 
 from making a death-bed repentance seem a 
 probability ; but you, Harry, are in no danger 
 of being encouraged to lead a life of sin by such 
 a hope. You have learned by bitter experience 
 that to defer repentance is to heap up sorrow for 
 yourself, and woe for others." 
 
 " I have, indeed !" replied Harry sadly. " I 
 would begin life a pauper, and spend it all in 
 suffering, to efface the irreparable injury that I 
 have done. No, no, repentance cannot undo the 
 past. Poor Ralph ! He is not my only victim. 
 There is another : she sleeps now with her 
 baby upon her breast ; but she will rise up in 
 
162 HERBERT ATHERTON. 
 
 the judgment-day to witness against her de 
 stroyer." 
 
 " It is God that justifieth : who is he that con- 
 demneth ?" said Herbert, gently. 
 
 Mrs. Waterford returned immediately with Mr. 
 Atherton to the hotel ; but he would not allow 
 Harry to accompany them. " You can do Mrs. 
 Barlow no good," he said, " and the lesson you 
 have received is already sufficiently severe. Go 
 home, my poor friend, and do not allow yourself 
 to doubt that the blood of Christ can wash out 
 sins even as dark as that which is filling your 
 soul with agony. I will come to you in the 
 morning. To-night, I shall accompany Mrs. Bar 
 low upon her mournful journey." 
 
 " If she knows what I have done," said Harry, 
 gasping for breath, " she can never forgive me. 
 Tell her, though, how bitterly I repent of my 
 evil influence, and find out if there is any way 
 in which I can serve her. Do come to me as 
 soon as you return." 
 
 ""What a noble heart Satan obtained for a 
 prey, when Harry fell a victim to his arts !" 
 said Herbert, sadly, as his poor friend turned 
 away, bowed down by remorse. " I hope that 
 he has broken the fetters of sin ; but he will wear 
 their mark till his dying day. But oh ! if he 
 
HERBERT ATIIERTON. 163 
 
 had been reared according to the promises made 
 at his baptism, how different might have been 
 his life ! But he was dedicated to God, and then 
 given to the world." 
 
 " How I tremble," said Mrs. Waterford, " when 
 I think of the temptations to which Frank will 
 be exposed !" 
 
 " I do not wonder that you feel the deepest 
 anxiety for him," said Herbert ; " but you must 
 not distrust the promises of God. I know that 
 you will give your son not only religious knowl 
 edge, but earnest prayers and a consistent exam 
 ple, and you have striven from his infancy to 
 keep him unspotted from the world." 
 
 "But perhaps Mrs. Barlow did the same by 
 her poor boy !" said Mrs. Waterford, with a deep 
 sigh. "When I see such instances of fruitless 
 prayer and faith, my heart dies within me." 
 
 "And how do you know that in this case 
 prayer and faith were vain ? Who can tell what 
 passed in the heart of that young man in his 
 dying hour ? I could much more easily believe 
 that he then made his peace with his Maker, than 
 that one jot or tittle of the promises of God should 
 fail." 
 
 On again entering the chamber of death, Mr. 
 Atherton found the mother still more composed. 
 
164: HEEBEBT ATHEBfOK. 
 
 " Come here," she said, " and look at his face. 
 Do you see its tranquil peace ? His earthly frame 
 could not wear so serene an appearance if his 
 spirit were now in misery. I cannot but hope 
 that in his dying hour my prayers were heard." 
 
 " And God has given you that hope to rest 
 upon, my dear madam," said Herbert, with affec 
 tionate sympathy. " I firmly believe that the 
 last day will reveal many instances of such un 
 speakable mercy. Here is Mrs.Waterford. Like 
 yourself, she has known much sorrow. We can 
 leave here in two hours, and I beg that you will 
 allow me to accompany you." 
 
 " You are very kind," said the afflicted mother, 
 gratefully. 
 
 " I am only doing my Master's work," replied 
 Herbert, meekly. 
 
 At twelve o'clock that night the earthly re 
 mains of Ralph Barlow reached that home which 
 he had left a few months before in the pride of 
 youth and health. 
 
 Herbert could not restrain his tears as he saw 
 the deep grief of the servants at the loss of their 
 beloved young master, and the melancholy lone 
 liness of their childless mistress. But the faith 
 and hope of a Christian subdued the anguish of 
 the mother's heart ; and as she stood by the corpse 
 
HERBERT ATHERTON. 165 
 
 of her only son, surrounded by weeping friends 
 and domestics, she exclaimed, with pious resig 
 nation, 
 
 " ' The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken 
 away ; blessed be the Name of the Lord.' " 
 
166 HERBERT ATHERTON. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 AN INVALID, AND A VOYAGE. 
 
 " His heart is sick with thinking 
 
 Of the misery of his kind ; 
 His mind is almost sinking 
 That once so buoyant mind." 
 
 THE sympathy which is most precious to the 
 recipient is always most costly to its giver. For 
 six months Herbert Atherton had been drawing 
 perpetually upon his own warm heart for the 
 consolation of others ; and though the fountain 
 was inexhaustible, his physical constitution was 
 too delicate to endure such continued excitement. 
 His mind dwelt day and night with feverish ac 
 tivity upon the woes of his fellow-men, and was 
 constantly busy in devising schemes for their 
 relief; but he was at times seized with an irre 
 sistible depression, which was the consequence 
 of nervous debility. 
 
 Mrs. "Waterford noticed, with truly maternal 
 anxiety, that her young friend was becoming 
 paler and thinner, and tried in vain to tempt his 
 fast failing appetite. 
 
HERBERT ATIIEIITON. 167 
 
 At length Herbert was obliged to own that he 
 was really ill, and, to please Mrs. Waterford, he 
 consented to consult her family physician. 
 
 Dr. Warner saw at a glance what was the 
 state of the case, and had too often met the young 
 clergyman on his errands of mercy to be surprised 
 at his present condition. 
 
 " Your preaching may be very good, my dear 
 sir, but I call this a decided case of mat-practice," 
 he said kindly, as he felt the quick, thread-like 
 pulse of his patient. 
 
 u Why, what do you think ails me, doctor ?" 
 asked Herbert languidly, and with much less 
 interest than he would have evinced with regard 
 to a stranger. 
 
 "What do I think ails you?" repeated the 
 physician. " Why, you have been wearing your 
 heart-strings out. Don't you believe that the 
 sixth commandment was meant to forbid one's 
 killing himself. If you do, what have you been 
 about all this while but committing suicide ?" 
 
 " But what else could I do ?" said Herbert 
 apologetically. " How could I remain at home 
 when the sick and the suffering needed my ad 
 vice?" 
 
 " Tut ! tut ! you are always hunting up such 
 people. Now tell me frankly whether you want 
 
168 HERBERT ATHEKTON. 
 
 to live or not ?" said the blunt but kind-hearted 
 doctor. 
 
 " I wish to live as long as my Master has work 
 for me to accomplish here, and no longer," said 
 Herbert soberly. 
 
 " Well, then, will you do what I tell you ?" 
 asked Dr. Warner. 
 
 " Certainly I will, if you think that I am in any 
 danger," replied Herbert. 
 
 " In danger 1 why, you'll be off into a gallop 
 ing consumption in six weeks, at this rate. In 
 the first place, yon must give up the Chapel of 
 St. Barnabas, which is no place for a man of such 
 fine sensibilities and intense sympathies as yon 
 possess." 
 
 " And who will take care of my poor people ?" 
 asked Herbert mournfully. 
 
 " Somebody that's much better fitted for the 
 place than you are, I'll be bound. You think 
 about those scapegraces, and try to realize their 
 condition, till you feel all the while as if you had 
 been stealing and murdering, and were on the 
 brink of destruction. Then you stand up there 
 and preach yourself into a perfect glow, and 
 come out in the cold air just in a state to plant 
 the seeds of consumption. Some morning you 
 will be sending to tell me that you have had a 
 
HERBERT ATHERTON. 169 
 
 hemorrhage from the lungs, and then it will be 
 all over with you." 
 
 " But even were I in as bad a way as you 
 make out, Doctor, if I were convinced that I am 
 more useful in my present position than any one 
 else could be, I am not sure that I should give it 
 up," said Herbert. " The Apostle, you know, 
 counted not life itself dear, so that he might fin 
 ish his course with joy, and I would readily yield 
 up mine, if the souls of others demanded the 
 sacrifice." 
 
 " Yery bad doctrine indeed," said the physician 
 impatiently. " Your first duty is to keep the 
 commandments of God ; and they tell you to 
 murder no man, yourself not excepted. But I 
 am not sure that giving up your charge alone 
 will save you. ISTow you have put yourself in 
 this fix, you must take some pains to get out 
 of it. Is there no little journey that you would 
 like to take? A short voyage would be the. 
 thing." 
 
 Herbert thought for a few moments, and then 
 his face beamed with pleasure, as he asked with 
 some hesitation, 
 
 " What do you think of a trip to Savannah ?" 
 
 " Just the thing !" responded Dr. "Warner, rub 
 bing his hands, " for I see that there is more rea 
 ls 
 
170 HERBERT ATHERTON. 
 
 son why such an excursion would divert your 
 thoughts. Pack up, and be off instantly." 
 
 "But I have an important matter to decide 
 before I can go," interposed Herbert. 
 
 " Psha ! Your decision now wouldn't be worth 
 a straw. Make the contracting party wait till 
 you return, which you will do in a month or two, 
 I prophesy, with a healthier color, and twenty 
 pounds more of flesh." 
 
 When Mrs. Waterford heard what was the 
 advice of Dr. Warner, she became most anxious 
 for the departure of her friend, and even offered 
 to accompany him upon his voyage, if he felt too 
 ill to undertake it alone. 
 
 Herbert would not consent to her making such 
 a sacrifice, but put her mind at ease by promis 
 ing to try and arrange his affairs so that he might 
 leave during the ensuing week. He then wrote 
 a letter to Mr. James Waterford, regretting that 
 the state of his health would at present prevent 
 him from giving a decisive answer to the pro 
 posal of the committee of the church at Holm- 
 wood, and leaving it to their option whether the 
 rectorship should continue at his refusal. 
 
 To this letter he received a most courteous re 
 ply, assuring him that no steps would be taken 
 during his absence to procure a substitute, and 
 
HERBERT ATHERTON. 171 
 
 suggesting that the state of his health might be 
 an additional inducement to leave the city, and 
 take charge of a country parish. 
 
 " And what will you do with Frank ?" he asked 
 anxiously of Mrs. Waterford. " If I go to Holm- 
 wood on my return, I shall be obliged to give 
 him up, so perhaps you had better procure some 
 person capable of carrying on his instruction till 
 he is ready to enter college." 
 
 " I have another plan for Frank," said Mrs. 
 Waterford archly. " In your absence, I shall teach 
 him myself, and when you return I intend to 
 place him under your charge at the Holmwood 
 rectory. Perhaps you can find some lady at the 
 South who will come back with you to take a 
 motherly care of my dear boy in your new home." 
 
 It was the first time that Mrs. Waterford had 
 given any intimation that she suspected the rea 
 son why Mr. Atherton preferred visiting Savannah 
 to any other place. 
 
 He was evidently embarrassed by her last re 
 mark, but he mastered his confusion, and, sitting 
 down by her, said affectionately, 
 
 " You should have known before, my kind 
 friend, all that concerned my dearest earthly in 
 terests, could you have done so without my be 
 traying the confidence of another. Agnes Came- 
 
172 HERBERT ATHERTON. 
 
 ron is now all that mj heart could wish, and a 
 month since was free to bestow her hand on any 
 one fortunate enough to win her affection. I 
 have made no effort since to secure her love, be 
 cause I was not sufficiently independent to do so 
 with honor. If I am well enough to take charge 
 of the Holmwood parish, there will be no obstacle 
 to my asking if she will consent to preside over 
 its rectory." 
 
 Mrs. Waterford's congratulations were most 
 sincere, though marriage was a subject of which 
 she could never speak without tears ; and as she 
 looked at the noble face of the young clergyman, 
 it seemed to her impossible that he could ever 
 sue in vain for the favor of any woman of taste 
 and discernment. 
 
 When Herbert called upon the Bishop of the 
 diocese to inform him that he was constrained by 
 illness to resign the charge of the Chapel of St. 
 Barnabas, he found that that reverend father in 
 God was already aware of the fact. 
 
 " I have feared for some time," said the latter, 
 *' that your strength would not keep pace with 
 your energy and zeal, and it was upon this ac 
 count that I was in favor of your removal to 
 Holmwood. I love your ardor, my dear young 
 brother ; but you may accomplish much more by 
 
HERBERT ATHERTOX. 173 
 
 a long life of judicious exertion than by a short 
 one of such incessant labor." 
 
 "I think, sir, that my friends are mistaken 
 with regard to my indisposition," said Herbert, 
 respectfully. " They substitute causes for effects. 
 My constitution was always delicate, and I have 
 never looked forward to length of days, and on 
 this very account have felt greater anxiety to do 
 something more for the glory of God. You may 
 remember that I left my last parish on account 
 of my health, and was very ill after my arrival 
 here, so that it does not seem to me reasonable 
 to attribute my present weakness to any impru 
 dence on my own part." 
 
 " But I have heard," said the Bishop, mildly, 
 "that your first illness was in consequence of 
 over-exertion ; and I cannot think that you are 
 right in risking a life which is so valuable to the 
 Church." 
 
 " But," said Herbert, " I have always given 
 myself sufficient time for exercise and relaxation, 
 and such a variety in my employments as might 
 prevent their being laborious. I have written 
 but one sermon weekly since I have been in this 
 city, and, excepting the instruction of Frank 
 Waterford, my other duties have beeu almost all 
 of a pastoral nature." 
 
HERBERT ATHERTON. 
 
 "But those are the very ones which have 
 sapped your strength. Far be it from me to 
 check your zeal, my dear young friend, but I 
 cannot endure the thought of so valuable a life 
 being so lightly sacrificed." 
 
 " And what can I do ?" asked Herbert earnest 
 ly. " My ordination vows are upon me, to use 
 both public and private monitions and exhorta 
 tions, as well to the sick as to the whole, within 
 my cure, as need shall require and occasion be 
 given. How then can I neglect any opportunity 
 of benefiting the souls for whom I must give an 
 account, or refrain from carrying from house to 
 house the glad tidings of salvation ? Oh sir, it is 
 not over-exertion that is preying upon my 
 strength, but the sight of misery which I cannot 
 relieve, of sin which will not seek for forgiveness. 
 My own heart is at peace with my Maker ; but I 
 have such a burning desire to reconcile others to 
 him, that sometimes my days and nights are 
 one long intercessory prayer; and nothing on 
 earth seems of any importance but the one ques 
 tion, how I may win souls to Christ." 
 
 Tears filled the eyes of the venerable Bishop at 
 this burst of religious fervor, and for a moment 
 his feelings could find no utterance. 
 
 "Yon have the true spirit of a Christian minis- 
 
HERBERT ATHERTON. 1Y5 
 
 ter, my son," he said at last. " Such, too, are my 
 own feelings, and those of many of the ambassa 
 dors of God, whose trials are little comprehended 
 by the world. It is this fearful sense of respon 
 sibility that saps the strength and shortens the 
 lives of so many of our brethren; but we cannot 
 feel otherwise, and be fitted for our sacred office. 
 May God restore you to health, and adorn your 
 heavenly crown with many of those jewels which 
 are so precious in his sight." 
 
 The last visit which Herbert paid before his 
 departure, was to Harry Melville at his office. 
 He found him occupied in renewing his legal 
 studies; for, while nominally practising his pro 
 fession, the idle young man had actually forgotten 
 the first principles of law. 
 
 " I am surprised to find how much I have for 
 gotten, and how sadly my mind has been weak 
 ened by the excesses in which I have indulged," 
 he remarked sorrowfully. "When shall I finish 
 the discovery of the evils which I have brought 
 upon myself by my own wickedness ? But the 
 recompense is just ; I only reap what I have sown." 
 
 " But, my dear friend," said Herbert in a 
 cheerful tone, " you will also reap the better seed 
 that you are now sowing in tears. I hope to see 
 you at no distant day rejoicing over a plentiful 
 
176 HEEBERT ATHEKTON. 
 
 harvest of good. On my return, I am sure that 
 I shall find you a happier man. Write to me 
 very often, and tell me all that you think and 
 feel." 
 
 " May I. ask you one question ?" said Harry, 
 hesitatingly. " Do not answer it if you dislike 
 to do so. Are you not going to pay your ad 
 dresses to Miss Cameron ?" 
 
 Herbert looked at his friend with affectionate 
 sympathy as he answered frankly, " If my health 
 is restored, so that I have a prospect of life and 
 usefulness, I shall tell her the story of my hith 
 erto hopeless affection." 
 
 At this information, there was an evident 
 struggle in the mind of his companion ; but his 
 better feelings conquered, and, extending his 
 hand to Herbert, he said warmly, 
 
 " You are worthy of her, and I wish you suc 
 cess with all my heart. Tell her that if I had 
 known as much of my own sinfulness when I last 
 wrote to her, as I now do, I should have never 
 insulted her by a proposal that she should link 
 her life to one so sullied with crime. Yet en 
 deavor to persuade her, my dear friend, that I 
 am now trying in earnest to reform, and think of 
 me yourself as kindly as you can." 
 
 Herbert acceded to these requests with assu- 
 
HERBERT ATHERTON. 177 
 
 ranees of the warmest interest and affection ; for 
 he felt in parting with Harry he felt that in 
 spite of all his errors, his repentant friend was 
 becoming very dear to him. 
 
 " And now, my dear Mrs. Waterford," he said 
 on his return home, " it only remains for me to 
 thank you for your never-failing kindness, and 
 to ask that you would inform Dr. Welford of the 
 cause of my absence, and say how much I re 
 gretted that he happened to be away, so that I 
 could not bid him farewell. It is true that Dr. 
 Warner flatters me that I may return in two 
 months ; but I never presume upon probabilities. 
 You can never estimate the value to me of your 
 affectionate interest and sympathy. I place these 
 gifts before more substantial benefits, because 
 the heart is always more truly grateful for affec 
 tion than actual beneficence. You have been 
 to me a second mother, and as such I shall 
 reverence and love you as long as life lasts." 
 
 " And that will be for many years, I trust, 
 my dear Herbert," she replied, cheerfully. " I 
 look forward with confidence to your return, and 
 should any friend accompany you, remember that 
 this is your home." 
 
 Herbert understood the invitation, and smiled, 
 though somewhat sadly. 
 
178 HERBERT ATHERTON. 
 
 " The future is so uncertain," he said, " that I 
 hardly dare let my mind rest upon such a possi* 
 bility. If I can only see Agnes once more, and 
 hear from her own lips, one assurance of her 
 faith in a brighter world, I can die content ; and 
 even now, am prepared to take my leave of ex 
 istence without a pang," 
 
 " I ought not to wish that you should live, Her 
 bert," said his friend, as she brushed away a tear, 
 " for you are ready for heaven, and I know that 
 it is a happier home than this sorrowful earth ; 
 but oh, the heart so clings to its idols ! I cannot 
 let you go." 
 
 "You are not now called upon to give me 
 up only for a season," he said gently, "and 
 therefore you have not the requisite strength, 
 Your face grows brighter at that thought, and 
 you feel that you can endure a long absence if it 
 is not final. Why then dread that separation 
 which can only last during the 'brief continuance 
 of our mortal lives ?" 
 
 " I know that it is wrong and unchristian to 
 feel thus," she replied ; " but the more friends 
 I lose, the more fondly I cling to those that re 
 main." 
 
 " Ah, here come my little pets !" exclaimed 
 Herbert, as the children entered, accompanied 
 
IIKKBERT ATHERTON. 179 
 
 by Frank, who was inconsolable at the idea of 
 losing Mr. Atherton. 
 
 Mrs. Waterford tried to welcome them with a 
 smile, for she did not wish their young hearts to 
 be saddened ; but it was some minutes before she 
 could speak cheerfully. 
 
 " I shall expect weekly letters from you, Frank, 
 and you must tell me every thing that you see or 
 hear which interests you. If your mother has 
 no objections, you can go on board the steamer 
 with me this noon, and then you can tell her all 
 about my state-room, and who are my fellow- 
 passengers." 
 
 At this proposal, Frank's face brightened, 
 and Mrs. "Waterford readily acceded to it, for she 
 knew that Herbert would take the opportuni 
 ty to give her son such advice as he most 
 needed. 
 
 But with all the efforts that were made to be 
 cheerful, the parting was still a sad one, and 
 when Herbert bade Mrs. Waterford " Good-bye," 
 with an earnest u God bless you," she burst into 
 tears and exclaimed, 
 
 " Come back to me, my son I cannot part 
 with you forever." 
 
 He had only time to say, soothingly, " E"o, my 
 dearest madam, we shall not, I trust, at all events 
 
180 HERBERT ATHERTON. 
 
 part forever. In this world or a brighter, I feel 
 that we shall meet again," and then he was 
 borne rapidly away from one of the kindest and 
 best of friends, 
 
SERBERT ATHERTON. 181 
 
 CHAPTER xn. 
 
 CONVALESCENCE. 
 
 "Slacken not sail yet, 
 At inlet or island ; 
 Straight for the beacon steer, 
 Straight for the highland." 
 
 " MOTHER, here's a letter from Mr. Atherton," 
 said Frank, as he bounded into Mrs. Waterford's 
 room, his face glowing with pleasure* 
 
 " Indeed 1" she exclaimed, looking equally de 
 lighted, as she broke the seal and read the fol 
 lowing epistle : 
 
 "SAVAIWAH, March 1st 
 
 " I have been sitting at my desk for an hour, my dear 
 friend, trying to find words in which to express my present 
 feelings. The attempt is vain, and I can only say that I 
 am happier than I ever expected to be till I reached the 
 world of everlasting bliss. 
 
 " How can I describe my Agnes ? I thought her lovely 
 before, but Christian grace now gives to her every act an 
 added charm. The enthusiastic warmth of her nature en 
 tirely pervades her religious character ; and where others 
 would be actuated by a sense of duty, she but follows a 
 spontaneous impulse of love. I am constantly fearful lest I 
 16 
 
182 HERBERT ATHERTON, 
 
 should betray such admiration as to mar the sweet uncon 
 sciousness which is her crowning grace. While imparting 
 to her every other thought and feeling, it is difficult to 
 withhold from her knowledge the fact that I consider her as 
 the most perfect of created beings ; and I am constantly in 
 danger of injuring the dear object of my love by ill-judged 
 expressions of devotion. 
 
 "You wonder, perhaps, at my warmth, and are sur 
 prised at my being so ardent a lover ; but it w^as the con 
 sciousness of my own tendency to idolatrous aifection which 
 made me think that I should never be permitted on earth 
 to enjoy such blissful interchange of heart. I tremble now 
 at my own happiness, and endeavor to look away from it, 
 lest my mind should become absorbed in that which must 
 pass away. And yet, the purest element of our love is that 
 which cannot perish, an intense sympathy in our Christian 
 hopes and aspirations, and a joyful anticipation of that 
 blessed time when our union shall be perfected in the pres 
 ence of our Eedeemer and Lord. 
 
 " You may be surprised that we have so rapidly attained 
 such entire oneness in heart and soul ; but I found that on 
 Agnes' part, as well as my own, aifection had been the 
 growth of years. On my first arrival, her manner was so 
 cordial that it gave me reason to hope that her favor might 
 in time be won ; and as soon as I avowed my own feelings, 
 she owned that before we parted, her regard for me had 
 exceeded that which she had ever felt for any human being. 
 I am obliged constantly to suppress the vanity engendered 
 by finding myself so highly esteemed ; and I am trying to 
 convince Agnes that her imagination has invested me with 
 qualities that I do not possess, lest she should be bitterly 
 disappointed when the constant intercourse of daily life 
 reveals the faults to which, in our present circumstances, I 
 feel no temptation. 
 
 "Excuse me for writing so egotistically, but you made me 
 promise, rny dear friend, to consider you as a mother, and 
 
HERBERT ATHERTOX. 183 
 
 to her who bore that name my heart was always revealed. 
 It is needless for me to say that my health is improving, for 
 how could the body fail to participate in the well-being of 
 its spiritual companion. The voyage was in itself beneficial, 
 and daily rides on horseback, in the sweetest of all society, 
 have had a most invigorating effect on my health and spir 
 its. I am really so much better, that it seems hardly neces 
 sary that I should "remain here as long as Dr. Warner 
 recommended ; but other circumstances have induced me to 
 delay my return until May. 
 
 " After much serious thought and frequent consultations 
 with Agnes, I have determined to accept the Kectorship of 
 Christ Church, Holmwood, and shall write to Mr. Water- 
 ford to-morrow, to that effect. Were it possible^ I should 
 prefer to retain the chapel of St. Barnabas ; but the hand 
 of Providence seems to indicate that I should take charge 
 of a parish less gratifying to my own personal feelings. But 
 there is one reason why the retirement of the country is to 
 us at present peculiarly desirable. Agnes was, you know, 
 for several years excessively gay and devoted to the pomps 
 and follies of fashionable life. Although she has now 
 learned to look upon these things in their true aspect, she 
 dreads to encounter the temptations which were once so 
 formidable. I cannot but believe that she underrates her 
 own strength, but still I should be very unwilling to place 
 her in so trying a position as that of a clergyman's wife in 
 a large city. It would need much moral courage in the 
 midst of gay and thoughtless acquaintances, to set an ex 
 ample of such Christian plainness and simplicity of life, as 
 we both believe to be necessary in such a situation. 
 
 " I am much pleased to hear that Mr. Arnold is preach 
 ing at St. Karnabas': he is a man for whose piety I 
 have the highest respect, and his manners are so winning, 
 that I am sure he will fix the attention and win the af 
 fection of many of his hearers. Tell Frank that he must 
 be ready to remove to Holmwood early in June, and be. 
 
184 HERBERT ATHERTON. 
 
 diligent in his studies that he may honor his present in 
 structress. 
 
 " I most sincerely hope that my poor friend Harry Mel* 
 ville comes often to see you. If he does not, please send for 
 him. The sense of his own nnworthiness makes him diffi 
 dent of the good-will of others, and I am sure that your 
 society will do him good. The more I see of Agnes, the 
 deeper is my sympathy in his disappointment. She says, 
 that in his most thoughtless days, he always manifested the 
 same candor and warmth of heart. 
 
 " I feel as if I had told you nothing that I wished. No 
 sorrow has ever made self-command so difficult as this un 
 looked-for joy. I am thrown so entirely off my guard that 
 every avenue to temptation seems open. No wonder that, 
 in the Litany, the time of our prosperity is ranked with 
 those solemn periods of existence when we have most rea 
 son to say, fc Good Lord, deliver us.' Such is the perpetual 
 prayer of my heart as I feel those tendrils turning earth 
 ward which have, hitherto, been seeking a divine support. 
 So fearful am I becoming of the temptations of this life, that 
 I almost wish to leave it now, and await in a better lancl 
 the fulfilment of those wishes which here are so dangerous 
 to the peace of my soul. You, my dear friend, who have 
 felt the stunning effects of a separation from a being you so 
 tenderly loved, will not wonder that on this my 'harvest 
 crown of happiness there should be something like a tear.' 
 You, I am sure, would never tell me to lay these fears 
 aside, and give myself wholly up to the present, but would 
 rather quote the words of the Apostle, and entreat me with 
 heartfelt earnestness to rejoice, as though I rejoiced not, 
 and to use this world as not abusing it, for the fashion of it 
 passeth away. 
 
 " To all your little ones commend me with much love. 
 Agnes has already formed an attachment for them, and a 
 most tender regard for their beloved mother. I long to see 
 you together y for I know that your hearts will mingle at once. 
 
HERBERT ATHERTON. 185 
 
 "With the permission of Providence, I shall return 
 early in May. Till then, and ever, I commit you to the 
 keeping of our heavenly Father, and remain, 
 
 " With the purest affection, your friend, 
 
 "HEKBEKT ATHEBTON," 
 
 The morning after the receipt of this epistle, 
 Mr. James Waterford called to see his sister. 
 
 " I suppose you know, 5 ' he said, with evident 
 satisfaction, "that Mr. Atherton has accepted 
 the rectorship of our parish, and that he is, with 
 Divine permission, to take charge of it on the 
 first Sunday after Easter. I heard some weeks 
 since that there was reason to believe that he 
 might bring back a lady with him to share and 
 lighten his cares, and therefore proposed at the 
 last vestry meeting that the rectory should be 
 furnished before it was occupied. What do you 
 think of that, Mary?" 
 
 " Excellent !" exclaimed his sister, with great 
 enthusiasm. " I have been wondering how we 
 should manage to get it fitted up for his recep 
 tion. Rumor is for once correct, and Mr. Ather 
 ton will bring back a bride ; but as she has little 
 fortune at command, and Herbert none, I could 
 not well see where the funds were to be procured. 
 I should have offered to have advanced part of 
 them myself; but I knew that it would give them 
 
 16* 
 
HERBERT ATrtERTON* 
 
 both pain should they discover that it cost me 
 any sacrifice to provide for their comfort. Now 
 the way is clear, and they will find a sweet home 
 all in readiness for their reception." 
 
 " I hope so," responded Mr. Waterford. " I 
 have come this very morning to ask your aid in 
 selecting such furniture as you think would please 
 our new rector. From his refined appearance 
 and manners, I fancy that he has been used to 
 something more than comfort, and will need a 
 few little elegancies to make him feel quite at 
 home, especially after living with you, Mary." 
 
 Mrs. Waterford smiled at this idea. 
 
 " Herbert has been accustomed," she said, " it 
 is true, to the luxuries of life ; but he has very 
 rigid ideas with regard to Christian plainness and 
 simplicity of living, and especially of the duty of 
 a clergyman to set an example in this respect. 
 Were the rectory to be furnished with any attempt 
 at elegance, he would only grieve to see money 
 thus wasted." 
 
 " Well, now I like that," said Mr. Waterford, 
 warmly. " I am beginning to think, Mary, that 
 you are not so far out of the way in considering 
 Mr. Atherton quite a paragon. I hope that I 
 shall not be disappointed in the high opinion that 
 I have formed of his character. The vestry are 
 
HERBERT ATIJERTON. 187 
 
 all so pleased with what they hear of him, that 
 they are anxious to do every thing in their power 
 for his comfort. They have already raised a 
 thousand dollars to furnish the rectory, and if 
 more is wanted I am willing to supply the defi 
 ciency." 
 
 " I hope that we shall be able to procure every 
 thing needful for that sum, as I presume that 
 you only intend to place such articles in the rec 
 tory as will be fixtures. Mrs. Atherton will no 
 doubt prefer to provide her own table-furniture 
 and linen ; and as she is an only child, I pre 
 sume that she has in her possession that which 
 belonged to her mother. I will go out with you 
 on this pleasant errand as soon as I have heard 
 Frank's lessons. I know that he will be expedi 
 tious when he learns the nature of my engage 
 ment, so that if you come for me in two hours, I 
 shall probably be at leisure." 
 
 Mrs. Waterford's judgment was as good as her 
 heart was warm, and in a few weeks the rectory 
 at Holmwood was furnished in the most refined 
 taste, but with beautiful simplicity. 
 
 " This study would be complete now, if these 
 bookcases were only filled," she said, "as she 
 stood looking around the room especially devoted 
 to the new rector with great complacency. Her- 
 
188 HERBERT ATIIERTOM. 
 
 bert is not likely to be able to purchase a library 
 very soon ; for if he ever does buy a book, he 
 always gives it away to the first person he meets 
 to whom it may be of service." 
 
 " We shall have to put some green curtains 
 over the shelves to hide their emptiness, said 
 Mr. Waterford, smiling, " or buy a set of wooden 
 books to look respectable." 
 
 "Now don't laugh about it, James, " said Mrs* 
 Waterford, who felt annoyed at the dilemma in 
 which she was placed by the poverty of the new 
 rector. She remained silent for some moments, 
 while adjusting the portraits of the four oldest 
 American Bishops, with which she had, herself, 
 adorned the walls, and then asked with great 
 earnestness, " Did you not say that a considera 
 ble sum had been raised for the purchase of a 
 parish library?" 
 
 " Certainly, but how will that obviate your 
 difficulty ? You do not wish me to sequestrate 
 that fund, my dear Mary, do you ?" 
 
 " !N"o, only make it serve two purposes," she 
 said, eagerly. " Who could be a better librarian 
 than Mr. Atherton ? and where could be a more 
 suitable place for the books to be kept than 
 at the Eectory? The clergyman could thus, in 
 a degree, regulate the reading of the people, 
 
HERBERT ATHERTON. 189 
 
 and become acquainted with their wants and 
 tastes." 
 
 " You ladies have always a way of making 
 whatever you wish appear so plausible, that you 
 are very hard to deal with," rejoined Mr. "Water- 
 ford. "The library is not yet purchased, and 
 ought to be selected with deliberation and care ; 
 so that at all events these bookcases would have 
 to remain empty for the present." 
 
 " But that is no matter," she replied with 
 great animation. " Herbert could select the books 
 as they were required, adding from time to time 
 such valuable theological works as might be 
 useful to himself, or to any one who might suc 
 ceed him in the rectorship. A minister always 
 needs a good library as much as his people do, 
 and most of our clergymen enter upon their pro 
 fessional duties without any money at their com* 
 mand, and have afterwards such limited salaries, 
 that the purchase of books is a heavy item of 
 expense. It would be an excellent plan to have 
 a library of standard works part of the furniture 
 of every rectory, and I do not see why such a 
 one could not be united with that intended for 
 the use of the parish." 
 
 " You decidedly think that you have hit upon 
 a capital idea, Mary," said Mr. Waterford, who, 
 
190 HERBERT ATHERTON. 
 
 though amused at his sister's enthusiasm, re 
 spected her judgment most sincerely. " But how 
 think you that Mrs. Atherton would like having 
 her husband's study invaded by his parishioners 
 whenever they were in need of a book from the 
 library ?" 
 
 " Now, James, don't put up any more men of 
 straw for me to knock down. Herbert would never 
 choose a wife who would make the slightest ob 
 jection to any plan for his comfort, or the good 
 of his parishioners. I shall rely upon your pro 
 posing at the next vestry meeting, to appoint the 
 rector librarian of the parish library, and to have 
 it placed in his study." 
 
 Although the rectory was now furnished, it 
 needed for its completeness those little articles 
 of personal property which give to every dwell 
 ing a home-like character. Mrs. "Waterford had 
 placed a pretty work-basket, filled with imple 
 ments for sewing and knitting upon the tasteful 
 little stand which adorned one corner of the 
 parlor, and some neatly bound volumes upon the 
 table between the low window-seats ; but still 
 there was one spot in the room which looked 
 unfurnished. She sat down upon a couch, 
 covered with neat chintz, matching exactly the 
 green carpet, which was of the most delicate 
 
HERBERT ATHERTON. 191 
 
 and graceful pattern, and looked disconsolately 
 at what seemed to her a desolate-looking recess 
 in the pretty parlor. 
 
 Just at this crisis the door opened, and Harry 
 Melville entered, as if he were not aware that the 
 house was occupied by any one but himself. He 
 looked very much embarrassed, and apologized 
 heartily for the intrusion. 
 
 "I came," he said, "on what was intended to 
 be a secret errand, but I shall have to take you 
 into my confidence to apologize for my rudeness." 
 
 Mrs. Waterford assured him that no such pen 
 ance would be necessary. But he persisted in 
 telling her the object of his visit, as he needed 
 her counsel and taste. 
 
 "I have been wishing," he said, "to place 
 some memorial of my gratitude in Mr. Atherton's 
 new home, and thought perhaps that a parlor 
 organ might not be an unacceptable gift. Miss 
 Cameron is a fine musician, and must, I am sure, 
 be fond of an instrument appropriated to sacred 
 melodies. Do you think that there would be 
 room here for any thing of the kind ?" 
 
 " Just the thing I should have wished," said 
 Mrs. Waterford warmly. " I wonder that I did 
 not think of it before. It was the want of some 
 musical instrument that made this room look so 
 
192 HERBERT ATHERTON. 
 
 empty. I was looking at that very recess, and 
 wishing that I had some larger article of furni 
 ture to put into it." 
 
 " I am glad," said Harry, in a less constrained 
 manner, " that my proposal meets your approba 
 tion; but you must not tell Mr. Atherton that 
 the organ was not placed here with the rest of 
 the furniture." 
 
 Mrs. Waterford hesitated. " What shall I tell 
 him if he asks the name of the donor?" she said, 
 " for I am sure that he will know that the parish 
 did not indulge in any such extravagance. It is 
 very hard work for me to keep pleasant secrets." 
 
 " You need only say," replied Harry, with 
 much feeling, "that it was a person who was 
 deeply indebted to him. I shall not be designated 
 by that description, for there are hundreds to 
 whom it would apply." 
 
 " Well, I will try and not betray your confi 
 dence," said Mrs. Waterford. " I appreciate the 
 feeling which thus seeks expression, and I am 
 sure that any token of affection from you would 
 give Herbert inexpressible pleasure." 
 
 A few days after this conversation a very neat 
 and tasteful organ arrived at the rectory, and 
 Mrs. Waterford then thought that every thing 
 had been procured which was necessary to the 
 
HERBERT ATHEBTON. 193 
 
 comfort of its new inmates. She wrote to Her 
 bert to that effect, and proposed, as she knew it 
 would be more agreeable to him, that he should 
 take possession of his new residence as soon as 
 he returned from the South. "The proposal, 
 perhaps, may not seem a polite one from me," she 
 said ; " but I waive my claims to a visit in favor 
 of a plan which I am sure you would prefer, and 
 shall hope to welcome you to the rectory with the 
 returning birds of spring." 
 17 
 
HERBERT ATHERTON. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 HOLMWOOD RECTORY. 
 
 " Since God doth often vessels make 
 Of lowly matter for high uses meet, 
 I throw me at his feet." HEEBEKT. 
 
 A NEW home ! How full of meaning are these 
 simple words ! A place where the soul must be 
 trained for eternity, and where it may encounter 
 its sorest trials and its dearest joys. Surely 
 the Christian's dwelling ought to be a temple 
 in which there is perpetually offered a holy 
 living sacrifice unto God. "What is his whole 
 life but a continuous act of service, which 
 should consecrate every home in which he may 
 dwell? 
 
 Such were the thoughts of Mrs. Waterford, as 
 she sat, in the twilight of a pleasant evening in 
 May, awaiting the arrival of the new inmates of 
 Holmwood rectory. Every thing was prepared 
 for their reception, and tea was in readiness to be 
 served as soon as they should appear. 
 
 As the evening shadows grew darker, a spirit- 
 
HERBERT ATHERTON. 195 
 
 ual presence seemed to fill the vacant house, and 
 mournful memories thronged to the mind of its 
 lonely occupant. She remembered the time 
 when she herself, a happy bride, had first entered 
 a new home. How little she then dreamed of all 
 which had since befallen her ! and yet, in each 
 sorrowful event of her life, mercy had tempered 
 judgment. 
 
 Mrs. Waterford was interrupted in these mourn 
 ful reflections by the sound of an approaching 
 carriage, and, forgetting her own grief in sym 
 pathy with the joy of others, she flew to the door 
 to welcome the travellers. 
 
 Herbert sprang to the ground, and, after greet 
 ing her with the affection of a son, lifted his 
 young wife from the carriage, and presented her 
 to his friend, saying, 
 
 " Here is my precious Agnes, who has already 
 learned to love my second mother." 
 
 The warm kiss and tender embrace with which 
 she was received were too much for the already 
 overflowing heart of the fair bride. She followed 
 her husband into the house with a tottering step, 
 and the moment that she entered the home 
 like looking parlor, threw herself into his arms, 
 and wept like a child. Herbert led her gently 
 to the couch, and sat folding her to his breast 
 
196 HERBERT ATHERTON. 
 
 with a look of unspeakable tenderness and 
 affection. 
 
 This scene was more than Mrs. Waterford 
 could bear. She quietly stole from the room, 
 and sought some place where she might shed in 
 secret the tears which never more could be wiped 
 awa^y by the hand of a loving husband. 
 
 " What is it that overcomes you thus ?" asked 
 Herbert, as the sweet face which had been hid 
 in his bosom was lifted up to his own, with an 
 expression of child-like dependence. 
 
 " Oh, I am so unworthy and so blest !" said 
 Agnes, smiling through her tears. 
 
 A closer pressure of that clasping arm was the 
 only reply, for Herbert was struggling with the 
 same melting thought. 
 
 There was a long pause broken only by the 
 throbbing of full hearts, which could find no 
 utterance for their deep emotions. 
 
 "We call this our home," said Herbert, at 
 last, with tender seriousness ; " but we must 
 never forget, Agnes, that it has been prepared 
 for our use by God's people, because we are to 
 minister to them of spiritual things ; and is, there 
 fore, in a peculiar manner devoted to his service. 
 Let us try and view it as an outer court of the 
 temple, which we are permitted to occupy while 
 
HERBERT ATHERTON. 197 
 
 attending upon its worship. I include you, 
 dearest, with myself in my holy office, because 
 though its active labors will devolve upon me, I 
 shall look to you for aid and encouragement in 
 preparing myself for every duty." 
 
 " You will lean upon a reed," said Agnes, 
 pensively, while her eyes filled and her cheek 
 glowed with emotion. She was indeed a fragile 
 being, the blood flushing and fading in her 
 transparent face with every change of thought 
 and feeling. 
 
 " I will try and not lean so heavily as to crush 
 you, my beloved," he said fondly, " and I trust 
 that we shall support each other. It seems to 
 me that I shall be able to bear much more, now 
 that I have some one to whom I may safely 
 communicate the plans and cares which were 
 once so oppressive. It will not be violating the 
 confidence of others to share it with my own 
 precious wife, and your woman's tact will be 
 invaluable in pointing out means for their en 
 couragement and relief. We are very comforta 
 ble here," he added, looking around the pleasant 
 room with a gratified air. " I like this furniture 
 because it is not only tasteful, but enduring, so 
 that it may serve equally well for those who shall 
 
 come after us. We must take excellent care of 
 17* 
 
198 HERBERT ATHERTON. 
 
 these loans, Agnes, that they may be transmitted 
 to our successors uninjured, when we shall need 
 them no more." 
 
 The expression of the young clergyman's 
 fine countenance showed that he was thinking 
 of the time when they should enter into pos 
 session of a " house not made with hands, eter 
 nal in the heavens." 
 
 "My spirit cannot always keep pace with 
 yours," said Agnes, somewhat sadly, as she saw 
 the celestial peace with which her husband's soul 
 was filled by this animating thought. " Earth is 
 very pleasant to me now, and I do not like to 
 think at this moment how soon we may be called 
 upon to leave it." 
 
 " Ah, dearest," he replied tenderly, " it will 
 not always be thus. You will learn to feel by 
 and by, as all God's children do in due time, 
 that you are a stranger and sojourner upon earth, 
 and to look joyfully towards that city which 
 hath foundations, whose builder and maker is 
 God. We cannot now tell by what teaching we 
 shall be fitted for that holy habitation ; but I 
 trust that whenever our summons comes, we shall 
 hear it with rejoicing." 
 
 When Mrs. Waterford returned to the parlor, 
 she found that Agnes had laid aside her hat and 
 
HERBERT ATHERTON. 199 
 
 shawl, and was running her fingers over the keys 
 of the new organ with evident pleasure. " I am 
 very fond of this instrument," said the young 
 wife, " and so glad to find it here. Am I in 
 debted for this pleasure to any particular per 
 son, or is it a fixture, like the rest of the fur 
 niture ?" 
 
 " No," said Mrs. Waterford, smiling, " it was 
 placed here for your especial use as a token of 
 gratitude, from a person who is deeply indebted 
 to your husband. Pray ask me no further ques 
 tions, for I am forbidden to mention the name of 
 the donor." 
 
 A glance of quick intelligence passed between 
 Herbert and his wife, for the same suspicion had 
 flashed through both their minds. 
 
 " Poor Harry ! That was so like him," ex 
 claimed the former. " He knows how fond you 
 are of music, Agnes, and that I could not at 
 present afford to gratify your taste. How I long 
 to see him !" 
 
 "Mr. Melville was here a short time before 
 your arrival, looking so well that I doubt whether 
 you would have known him," said Mrs. Water- 
 ford. "He is studying very hard, I hear, and 
 leads a most consistent life." 
 
 " God be thanked !" ejaculated Herbert, 
 
200 HERBERT ATHERTON. 
 
 with deep feeling. "He was lost, and he is 
 found." 
 
 Here was a pause for some moments, which 
 was interrupted by Mrs. Waterford's saying, " I 
 quite forgot that I came hither to you to an 
 nounce that tea was ready. Allow me to show 
 you the way to the dining-room." 
 
 When the first happy meal at the rectory was 
 concluded, Agnes accompanied Mrs. Waterford 
 in an exploration of the house, and was made 
 acquainted with its different arrangements for 
 her convenience and comfort. 
 
 " And now," said her kind friend, as they re 
 turned to the parlor, " I must leave you, my dear 
 child, for Frank will be quite in despair at my pro 
 longed stay. Herbert has, I presume, found the 
 way to his study. Bid him good night for me, 
 and tell him that I shall be here to-morrow to 
 aid you in receiving such of your parishioners 
 as shall then pay their respects. I thought 
 that you would prefer to be quite alone this 
 evening." 
 
 Agnes smiled a grateful acquiescence, and 
 warmly returned the parting salutation of her 
 new friend. Then she seated herself in one of 
 the low window-seats, and gave herself up to her 
 own sweet thoughts. 
 
HERBERT ATHERTON. 20l 
 
 Herbert had, as Mrs. Waterford suspected, 
 found his way to the room appropriated to his 
 own especial use. His eye fell upon the writing 
 materials which had been placed upon the table 
 to give the study an inhabited air, and he thought 
 to what purpose they would be applied. Here 
 would the sermons be written upon which might 
 hang the destiny of myriads of immortal souls. 
 Here, must his own spirit be prepared for the 
 guidance of those who were placed under his 
 charge. His whole subsequent usefulness might 
 depend upon the manner in which he improved 
 the hours here spent. In this place he was to 
 receive the messages which he must proclaim to 
 the world. His whole future life, with its mo 
 mentous responsibility, seemed spread out before 
 his view. 
 
 " Who is sufficient for these things ?" was 
 his mental ejaculation, as he took a rapid sur 
 vey of the difficulties which beset the path of 
 every faithful ambassador of Christ. He had 
 studied his own heart faithfully, and knew its 
 deep depravity, and therefore it was that he 
 sometimes labored almost without hope, in try 
 ing to wake the slumbering souls of his fellow- 
 men. Would any of his parishioners rise up in 
 the judgment-day to condemn him, and their 
 
202 HERBERT ATHERTON. 
 
 blood be upon his head ? This was a terrible 
 question. Even the faithful discharge of hia 
 ministry might add to the guilt of some, who 
 would see, but perceive not, and hear what they 
 made no effort to understand. 
 
 It was not singular that, overwhelmed with a 
 sense of the responsibility with which he was in, 
 trusted, Herbert fell upon his knees, and poured 
 out his very soul in prayer. He was conscious 
 of no presence in the universe but that of his 
 Maker, and no relationship but that which ex 
 isted between a merciful God and his frail am 
 bassador to a ruined world. Wrapt in devotion, 
 he pleaded, with a broken voice, that while he 
 preached to others, he might not himself be a 
 castaway. 
 
 It was long before the earnest supplicant for 
 divine grace became aware that some one was 
 kneeling at his side. With half unconsciousness, 
 he passed his arm around the slight figure of his 
 young wife, and commending her also to the 
 mercy of their heavenly Father, fervently asked 
 that they might both view their union only as a 
 means of advancing his glory. 
 . We cannot accompany the devoted clergyman 
 in his subsequent career of usefulness. With an 
 earnest heart and an eye fixed upon heaven, he 
 
HERBERT ATHERTON. 203 
 
 continued " in the morning to sow his seed, and 
 in the evening to withhold not his hand," looking 
 for no harvest-time till the angels should gather 
 their sheaves into the garner of the Lord. Where 
 there was the greatest spiritual dearth, he yet 
 found some green spot beside a scanty brook, 
 where a seed might be dropped in faith, though 
 he never again might pass that way to discover 
 whether it had germinated. Sorrow came to his 
 home and to his heart, and death carried from 
 his arms his first-born son ; but even beside its 
 dark flood, he fearlessly cast in the grain. No 
 human being, while life lasted, was too depraved 
 to enlist his earnest sympathy, and to claim his 
 hopes, his efforts, and his prayers. 
 
 The sanctified spirit of Herbert Atherton was 
 dismissed from its frail tenement at the same 
 early age at which his Saviour terminated his 
 earthly career of love and mercy. Like him, he 
 was a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief; 
 for through him, he was appointed to offer con 
 tinual intercession for the sins of a dying world. 
 And now he sleeps in peace, with his faithful 
 wife at his side ; but the land is white with the 
 harvests that they planted together. "What is it 
 to them that they sometimes went forth weeping 
 to sow their seed, if, when the ransomed of the 
 
HERBERT ATHERTON. 
 
 Lord shall return to Zion, they come again re 
 joicing, bringing their sheaves with them ? 
 
 "Blessed indeed are ye who sow beside all 
 waters !" 
 
 THE END, 
 
BEAUTIFUL JUVENILE BOOKS. 
 
 (Dlft 38Utt'0 lame. 
 
 " This is a narrative of an ' Old Man' of ninety-six years, 
 whom the writer first meets in a romantic dell, on the coast 
 of the Isle of Wight, and in whose mind the one all-engross- 
 ing thought, which took complete possession of every feeling 
 and sympathy of his nature, was that of his final Home 
 His residence in the asylum for half a century, his literal iu 
 terpretation of the precepts and promises of God's Holj 
 Word, his reputed insanity, his allegorical conversation, his 
 attachment to ' little Annie,' his past history and bereave 
 ments, his death, and his resting-place in the church-yard, 
 are incidents which the gifted author has woven into a story 
 told with great simplicity and effect. The illustrations of the 
 engraver are as tastefully executed as the designs (which are 
 original with the Union) are happily conceived. We are 
 not surprised at the popularity of Mr. Adams' books." 
 
 [Church Review. 
 
 * * * * * " If it is not true, there is an air of truth 
 about it which is unequalled except by De Foe. But whether 
 truth or fiction, it is one of the most instructive little books 
 we know of; and one, to the tendencies of which we can 
 give the most unreserved recommendation." 
 
 [True Catholic. 
 
 " The Old Man's Home' is by the author of ' The Shadow 
 of the Cross,' and may well take place by its side as a com 
 panion volume. The title plainly indicates the subject 
 Devoid of the slightest approach to rant or turgidity, the 
 touching and simple story is told with much purity and grace 
 of style ; and the interest which is early excited, is sustained, 
 without flagging, to the very last page. Let a book like this 
 be put into the hands of a child, and we have no fear of the 
 result." [Literary World 
 
 cn 
 
BEAUTIFUL JUVENILE BOOKS. 
 
 44 We have before us a little work entitled, ' The Distaul 
 Hills ; An Allegory,' frorn the press of the General Protest. 
 ant Episcopal Sunday-School Union, whose Depository is at 
 Number 20 John-street. It is a most touching and tender 
 allegory, and is altogether worthy of its predecessor, ' The 
 Shadow of the Cross.' Qver the pages of these narratives 
 there is shed an aroma of purity, suited to the pictures which 
 they so exquisitely paint. Indeed, the pictures themselves 
 seem to be rather breathed than painted. We know not how 
 to express our sincere admiration, as we believe it would be 
 impossible to meet with works of this kind more charmingly 
 conceived and finished. They ought to be widely circulated 
 among the young, in whose pure hearts they would be en 
 graved indelibly in days when the feverish novel would in 
 terest them no more. As allegories they possess the highest 
 merit. The outlines are distinct, the accessories replete with 
 classic grace, and the embodiment of the truth palpable. 
 The Distant Hills, bedecked with green and rife with 
 melody ; the Crumbling Ruin, crawled over by the green 
 lizard, and given to decay ; these are symbols which a child? * 
 heart may interpret, and over which a man's eyes may weep. 
 And it is delightful to see ever in the foreground of the pic 
 tures, whether meandering in the meadow or gushing from 
 the rock, the purifying waters of the flood, over which 
 
 - ' The eternal dove 
 Hovers on softest wing.' 
 
 " For the Christian parent, these works, so pure and happy 
 In influence, so exquisite in embellishment, so compressed in 
 compass, are most desirable for gifts. They would be re 
 ceived with smiles, and perused with tears, and gratitude 
 would be returned by the intermingling of both." 
 
 I Knickerbocker, Oct., 1849. 
 
BEAUTIFUL JUVENILE BOOKS 
 
 "In connection with Book Notices, we cannot forbear 
 calling public attention to the publications of the Protestant 
 Episcopal Sunday-School Union, an institution intended, of 
 course, mainly for the advancement of the denomination with 
 which it is connected ; but conducted on the most catholic 
 principles of universal charity; and with a degree of intelli 
 gence and ability not always exhibited in similar organiza^ 
 tions. In addition to school books, and others intended 
 mainly for instruction, they have issued a series of elegant 
 Gift Books, very neatly printed, and sold at a moderate price. 
 Some of these are Allegories, tales, and personal or historical 
 sketches; and ar<; not only sound in Christian sentiment, and 
 in the influence they exert, but are among the most admir 
 rably winning and attractive books we have ever seen. &]) 
 <8Ht> fail's J^omc to characterize all by reference to one, 
 is one of the most pathetic and touching little books we have 
 ever read; exquisitely delicate in conception and simple in 
 style. The whole series is of the same character, and forma 
 one of the most delightful collections of the kind ever issued. 
 No greater service could be rendered to children than to fill 
 their minds with the sweet thoughts, the lovely affections, and 
 the holy aspirations which flow from these little books, like 
 perfume from flowers. We ask the attention of all who have 
 young minds and hearts to provide for, to the publications 
 
 of the Union." 
 
 [New-York Courier and Enquire* 
 
 (8) 
 
BEAUTIFUL JUVENILE BOOKS. 
 
 A rery interesting Story, re-published from the Edition of 
 THE SOCIETY- FOR PROMOTING CHRISTIAN KNOWLEDGE. It 
 shows vividly the peril of yielding to the temptations wbich 
 beset our path. 
 
 (34)