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Mrs, Coanorer on her deatb-bed 
 
 9^" 
 
ANN CONNOVER. 
 
 WRITTEN FOR THE AMERICAN SUNDAY-SCHOOL UNION, AND 
 REVISED BY THE COMMITTEE OF PUBLICATION 
 
 AMERICAN SUNDAY-SCHOOL UNIOX 
 
 NO. 146 CHESTNUT STREET. 
 
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1835, 
 
 By Paul Beck, Jr., Treasurer, 
 
 in trust for the American Sunday-school Union, in the Clerk's 
 
 Office of the District Court of the Eastern District of Vema.jh 
 
 vania. 
 
 EDUCATION B&%^ 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 Manx thousands of very respectable young persons 
 in our country are found at service. They are often left 
 alone in the world, and seek in vain for true friends 
 or wise counsellors. When it is considered what a 
 multitude of children are under their influence ; how 
 intimate is their relation to the families in which they 
 live, and how much good or evil they have it in 
 their power to do, if they are so disposed ; it seems a 
 matter of some consequence that they should rightly 
 understand the duties of their station, and have all 
 the help they can in discharging them. 
 
 The design of this little volume is to furnish them 
 with such help. It contains counsels and directions 
 upon the most important subjects in which they are 
 interested ; and the principal illustrations are from real 
 life. If the suggestions made in these pages were gene- 
 rally regarded by persons at service, as well as by their 
 employers, a great deal of misery and guilt would be 
 saved, and every class of society would feel the happy 
 change. 
 
 a2 5 
 
 54 I 200 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 The station — Going to service — Death of Arm'a mo 
 ther — What is meant by one's station — Each station 
 has its appropriate duties — Illustration — The pious 
 nurse — Jane's estimate of a good employer — Who 
 is the only perfect teacher and guide 9 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Getting a place — What makes a place good or bad — 
 Ann's first adventure — Mrs, Smith, and her views 
 of religion — Ann's resolution — Sundry cautions in 
 gettmg a place — Mrs. Denby's — Mr. Denby's views 
 of religion — Impertinence, and its consequences— 
 The boasting cook — Mistakes of servants in trying 
 to get places 26 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Mrs. Sinclair — Folly of listening to the tales of serv- 
 ants about places they have left — Duties of em 
 ployers — First interview with Bridget— Mistakes 
 about the different kinds of service — Mrs. Marsden 
 — Choice of places — Duties of a child's nurse — 
 Rules about getting a place 47 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Directions to servants from one of the best of masters 
 — Ann's account of Bridget, and Jane's instructions 
 — Rules of Scripture on this subject explained, and 
 illustrated by several anecdotes — Eye-service de- 
 scribed — Causes of hard work — Good rules about 
 service 6j 
 
 6 
 
CONTENTS.. , 7 
 
 CHAPTER V: 
 
 „' ' " .. -. - . - F>f,e 
 Self-will and its conse(J4iences-.-IIovv-tp jJlea&p >:^ ^he', ; ,' 
 manner of doing work — Imp6rtanc'e'cir' clean a^d' 
 tidy habits — Quiet and good order — Little kind- 
 nesses — Good rules on these subjects 71 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Obedience and respect due to employers — Scripture 
 rules on this subject explained, and illustrated by 
 several anecdotes — Sin and meanness of talking 
 against, or ridiculing the families in which we live 
 — Illustration — Useful rules of conduct on this sub- 
 ject 81 
 
 CHAPTER Vir. 
 
 Jane's account of her going to Mrs. Raymond's, ana 
 how she was treated, &c. — The way to keep a good 
 place — Character of a good mistress delineated — 
 How employers may greatly benefit their servants. 93 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 The evils of changing places — Every place has its pe- 
 culiar troubles — Advantages of keeping one place 
 — Good advice on this subject 101 
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 Conduct towards fellow-servants — Description of a.^ 
 ill-natured servant — Rules of behaviour drawn from 
 the Bible — Story of Alice— Peculiar duties of a 
 Christian servant — Seven short and simple direc- 
 tions for a professor of religion at service 107 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Bridget's adventure in the evening — Proper and useful 
 employments for leisure time — The sleigh-ride — 
 Proper use of Sunday — The advantages of steadily 
 attending at one place of worship — Deceit and its 
 consequences, illustrated by several anecdotes — In- 
 temperance, its consequences and remedy — The 
 Temperance society — Those who drink to be avoid- 
 ed, and why — Story of Amanda — The trembling 
 madness described — H9^' drinidng unfits one for 
 service ;. 118 
 
8 , .CONTENTS. 
 
 . V : :• : •. Chapter xi. 
 
 •jSte?liJ\gT^Slory 'oi; Lucy and the^^gg- woman — ^Tni© 
 
 ; ,•* Iprinciplesio^Jibii'dfeiy^W fidelity stated — Purloining 
 
 defined and explained — What became of Lucv — 
 
 Different ways of defrauding employers — Bridget 
 
 instructed aiid converted 134 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 oily of fine dress — Proper use of wages, illustrated 
 by several anecdotes — How much good can be done 
 with a little money — Account of various benevolent 
 institutions, and their objects — To whom our wages 
 really belong 143 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Ann in danger of being destroyed — Her aunt's faith- 
 fulness to her — Ann's folly — Good rules about form- 
 ing acquaintances with men 158 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Unhappy marriages, and the cause of them — Histories 
 of several young women, to i. lustraie this — Com- 
 mon mistakes on this subject, and good rules for 
 avoiding them — Conclusion— J* s^'s happy death — 
 Ann takes her place 166 
 
ANN CDNNOTER 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 The Station — Going to Service. 
 
 " Dear sister," said Jane Dugaii, *' you 
 lold me you felt ready to die ; you trusted that 
 God had forgiven your sins for Christ's sake, 
 and that you would be glad to leave all your 
 pains and go to him. Why then do the tears 
 come in your eyes all the time ? What trou- 
 bles you ?" 
 
 The sick woman lay on a low, straw bed, 
 in the corner of a small, but comfortable 
 room. Her eldest daughter, about sixteen 
 years old, was kneeling beside her. Jane 
 Dugan was leaning over her with the tender- 
 ness of a fond sister. (See frontispiece.) 
 Her question, however, seemed to add to the 
 sorrow of the sufferer ; for she began to cry 
 as if her heart would break. 
 r '' Oh ! my children, my poor dear chil- 
 dren ; what will become of them when I am 
 gone ?" 
 
 Jane looked over to the other side of the 
 room, where two little ones were playing 
 merrily together, notj^lfflfliking that they were 
 soon to lose their mother. 
 
 9 
 

 . . 10 ' . 
 
 . •/ : 
 
 ." ^A'sflpiher's anxiety— Wrong views. 
 
 ; '/'Jp^d '-ypti. sueak kg the minister about 
 
 *' Oh, yes ! and he said he would have the^ 
 small ones pufin the Orphan Asylum." ^ 
 
 " But will they be well treated there ?" 1 
 
 '' To be sure," answered Jane ; *' if the 
 clergyman will get them into the Orphan 
 Asylum, you may be quite easy about them-; 
 and, 2l° ^or James here, a smart, healthy boy of 
 ^fteen can always get a living in this coun- 
 try, as long as he is honest, sober, and indus- 
 trious. I will speak about him to Mr. Ray- 
 mond, the gentleman I live with ; and I am 
 sure he will get a place on some farm, or in 
 some shop, for him." • ^ 
 
 '' Well," interrupted the sick woman, 
 " God be thanked ! — But Ann," she added, 
 passing her feeble arm round the neck of her 
 daughter, and drawing her head close down 
 to the pillow, *' my poor, dear girl ; what is 
 she to do ?" 
 
 She looked in her face a while, with the 
 earnest fondness of a dying mother ; then 
 bursting into tears again, 
 
 '* Ann will have to go out to service." ^M 
 
 ** Well !" said Jane, *' and have not I been 
 out to service ever since 1 was twelve years 
 old ; and I am sure I have done very well, 
 and been very happy." 
 
 *' Ah !" replied ^iflyster, " you have been 
 more lucky than o^^fceople. You are the 
 
11 
 
 —Mother's death. 
 
 only one I ever heard of that was put first 
 into a religious family ; and you never left 
 ^ your place. Ann is such a young thing, too ; 
 and it is very hard to have to slave for other 
 people ; and she will be in so much danger 
 and temptation to do wrong. I do not know 
 what will become of her." With this she 
 sobbed more violently than ever, and poor 
 Ann mingled her tears with her mother's. 
 
 Jane saw it was of no use to reason with 
 them then ; she only said, " Sister, you must 
 not cry so, you will hurt yourself, Yo" 
 know \^ have some good reason to hope that 
 Ann is a child of God. Surely, if she is, He 
 will take care of her. Can you not trust her 
 in His hands?" 
 
 ** I do !" said the dying woman, looking 
 up and smiling through her tears ; '' but" — 
 
 The rest could not be heard : her voice 
 sank into a whisper. Jane put her ear close 
 to her lips, and caught these words — '* Sis- 
 ter, do watch over Ann — do." 
 
 They were the last she ever spoke. Her 
 distress and crying had wearied her so much 
 f that she fell into a deep sleep; and it wa^^* 
 some time before the sister and daughter susht 
 pected that it was the sleep of death. Y 
 
 When Ann could no longer doubt it, she was ' 
 so overcome with grief, that she had no heart 
 to do any thing. Jane, h<wever,had got leave 
 
 to stay a week with her«ter ; and she saw 
 
 [<we\ 
 
12 
 
 — — ^t-» 
 
 State of the family— 'Vlwt)ng notions. 
 
 to every thing. The -pd^ woman was de- 
 cently buried ; the little ones were sent to the 
 Orphan Asylum, and JaAea was taken into 
 Mr. Raymond's store, until another place 
 could be found for him. 
 
 But when all was done, there were only a 
 few shillings left ; about enough to pay the 
 month's rent of the room. The passage out 
 from the old country ; the sickness with which 
 the mother was taken as soon as she reached 
 America; the expenses of living ; and the 
 cost of the funeral, &c. had taken all the 
 money they had got by selling the farm after 
 the father's death. 
 
 It wanted about a week to the end of the 
 month. Ann was sitting alone in the room 
 when her aunt Jane came in. Ann was de- 
 lighted to see her, for she seemed like another 
 mother to her. After they had sat awhile, 
 Jane said, 
 
 " Well, Ann, where do you expect to go at 
 the end of this week?" 
 
 " Oh !" said Ann, with a sigh, " that is just 
 what I was thinking about. I suppose I must 
 
 use myself and look round for a place. I 
 
 ust make up my mind to go to service ; but 
 (do hate and dread it above all things." 
 
 Ann never had worked out, and she was 
 set against it by the way in which she had 
 heard her mother taflt. Her eyes were full 
 
13 
 
 Mistaken views — ^Two sides. 
 
 of tears in a minute. Jane looked at her, and 
 almost laughed. 
 
 " Why, what is the matter now ?" said she. 
 
 *' Matter !" cried Ann, " matter enough, if 
 I have got to slave myself to death for stran- 
 gers." 
 
 *' Slave yourself to death !" said her aunt; 
 '* who wants you to slave yourself?" 
 
 '' Well," answered Ann, *' I am sure it will 
 be no better, if I am to be trying to do as lit- 
 tle work as ever I can, and the person I live 
 with is to be trying to get as much out of me 
 as ever she can ; and so we are to be always 
 crossing each other." 
 
 *' Why, how you talk !" exclaimed Jane 
 Dugan ; *' I see, child, that you do not under- 
 stand at all what it is to go to service ; or 
 what will be expected from you." 
 
 *' What is it, then ?" asked Ann. 
 
 *' When a girl lives with a lady," answer- 
 ed Jane, '' the lady, you know, gives her her 
 food and lodging ; that is as much as would 
 cost eighty or a hundred dollars a year. And 
 besides that, she pays her wages, from one 
 dollar to six or seven dollars every month. 
 Four dollars a month would be forty-eight 
 dollars a year. Now, of course, the lady 
 does not do all this for the girl for nothing." 
 
 '' No, no," interrupted Ann, " I know that. 
 And I want you to tell me what the girl is to 
 do on her part." 
 
 B 
 
14 
 
 Another mistake — Name is notliing. 
 
 »' Well," said Jane, " I cannot say how it 
 is m other places, but I know just what is ex- 
 pected from her where I am acquainted. She 
 must do, every day, the particular work thai 
 she engaged to do ; say the cooking, or the 
 chamber-work. Besides that, she must be 
 willing, any time, to put her hand to any 
 other little thing the lady wishes to have 
 done. In short, the mistress of the family 
 has a right, whenever she wants any thing 
 done, to call upon the girl who lives with her 
 to do it for her ; but if she requires more 
 than is proper, or reasonable, you know the 
 girl may leave her. So where is the hard- 
 ship ? It is a fair bargain between them." 
 
 Ann sat silent a moment ; then looking up 
 through her tears, with a smile, half-pleased 
 and half-asljamed, she said — 
 
 *' Well, if that is the way of it, it is not 
 such a very hard thing after all." 
 
 But soon her face grew long and sad again. 
 
 ** Aunt Jane," said she, *' I would be sor- 
 ry to displease you by what I am saying, 
 but I do think that it 'is a low and a mean 
 thing to be a servant." 
 
 ** I am not displeased at all by what you 
 say," answered Jane ; '* but I must tell you 
 that you are quite mistaken. There is no- 
 thing low and mean about it. If it is the 
 name * servanf you do not like," said she« 
 laughing, *' you need not be called so Our 
 
 i 
 
15 
 
 God's judgment— Cotton factory. 
 
 ladies here wHl say ' help' or ' domestic,' if it 
 suits you any better ; but I think myself it is 
 all the same, whatever we are called, and 
 ' servant' is as good a name as any other. 
 It is the one used in the Bible you knoAv. 
 But," added she, more seriously, " you ought 
 to try, Ann, to think about these things as 
 God teaches you to think. He * is no respec- 
 ter of persons ;' he is as much pleased with 
 a good servant as with a good judge or a good 
 president. He does not honour people for 
 having fine clothes or carriages, or for being 
 able to write poems, or to fight great battles. 
 But the men and women who do what they 
 ought to do in their station, those are the ones 
 that God thinks high and honourable ; and it 
 makes no difference what their station is." 
 
 " Those who do what they ought in their 
 station!'^ said Ann ; "their stati&a; what do 
 you mean by their siation?^^ 
 
 *'Did you ever in the old country see 9 
 large manufactory?" 
 
 '* Yes," said Ann, *' I was once in a cotton- 
 factory." 
 
 "And what did you see there?" asked her 
 aunt. 
 
 " !" said Ann, " there was a large build- 
 ing where the cotton cloth was made, and it 
 was full of people helping to get it done. I 
 saw they were not all at the same kind of 
 work ; for some were at one part, and some 
 
God's purpose — Factory again. 
 
 upon another. But there was such a bustle 
 and such a dust, and so much noise of the 
 wheels, that I cannot well tell what I did see." 
 
 " Well, suppose this had been a factory for 
 making linen cloth, instead of cotton, and 
 suppose the work had been all done by the 
 hand instead of machines, you can think 
 what you would have seen in such a factory. 
 There would be some breaking the liax, some 
 spinning it with the wheel, some weaving 
 it, some bleaching it, and some dressing and 
 finishing it. 
 
 '' Very good ! that is exactly the way with 
 this world and the people in it. The facto 
 ries are built to have some particular thing 
 made or done in them ; just so God has made 
 this world, and there is something to be 
 done in it, and the Bible tells us what that 
 is. God would show us and all his creatures 
 how good and just and merciful he is. He 
 would have this be done by sending the gospel 
 of his Son, Jesus Christ, all over the world, 
 and teaching every one how to read and obey 
 it. This is what God would have done in 
 this world. 
 
 " Now, how does he get it done ? Just as 
 the manufacturer gets the linen made. He 
 sets people to do it for him. God could have 
 his work finished by only saying the word ; 
 but that is not the way he chooses. He has 
 ordered the men, women, and children in this 
 
17 
 
 Chariff e of station— Servants of God. 
 
 world to work for him. All persons are 
 God's work-people. They are like factory 
 people. Do you understand me ?" 
 
 " Yes," said Ann ; " go on." 
 
 " Now in the factory all have different 
 things to do. In the linen factory, some 
 would be hacklers, some winders, some spin- 
 ners, some weavers, some bleachers, and 
 some dressers and finishers. So in this world 
 some are preachers, some rulers, some judges, 
 some merchants, some mechanics, some pa- 
 rents, some children, some labourers, some 
 domestics, and so on. All are, or ought to be, 
 helping to do God's work. But they have their 
 different parts of it, different kinds of busi- 
 ness to attend to, or different stations. You 
 have been all your days in the station of a 
 daughter at home, now you are going to be 
 in the station of a domestic. I suppose by 
 this time you understand what I mean by 
 your station ?" 
 
 " I believe I do," said Ann, hesitatingly. 
 
 '' I will try another way to make it plain to 
 you," said Jane. " You know, in the Bible, 
 Abraham and Noah, and Moses and David, 
 and Solomon and Paul, and Peter and all the 
 great and good men, are called ' servants of 
 God ?' " 
 
 '' Yes," said Ann, " the Bible seems to say 
 that all people are the servants of God." 
 
 " Right," answered Jane, " that is what I 
 b2 
 
18 
 
 New station— New duties. 
 
 was going to say. All men, women, and 
 children are his servants. God is the mas- 
 ter over all. Now think what a great house 
 full of God's servants this world is." 
 
 '' Yes ; — go on, if you please," said Ann. 
 
 Jane went on. " You have seen families 
 where there were a great many servants. 
 You have seen them in the old countries ; and I 
 have seen them here. Now, you know, in such 
 families, each one has a different place and a 
 different work to attend to. There is the house- 
 keeper, the head-cook, and the under-cooks, 
 the chambermaid, the nurse, the butler, the 
 waiter, the coachman, the footman, the scul- 
 lion, and the errand-boy. 
 
 " Yes, yes," interrupted Ann, *' but what 
 of that?" 
 
 '' That is just the way God has fixed this 
 great world. It is full of servants of his. 
 He has given each one his or her own place, 
 and his or her own work to do. Some of us 
 are governors, some ministers, some mer 
 chants, some labourers, some parents, some 
 children, some employers, and some servants, 
 as I said before. You have had the place or 
 station of a daughter at home, now you are 
 going to take that of domestic. If you had 
 been cook in a gentleman's family, and were 
 to change and take the place of chambermaid 
 you would have a different kind of work to 
 do, would you not ?" 
 
19 
 
 New duties — Another mistake. 
 
 " To be sure," said Ann. 
 
 " Then, now that you are changing your 
 station in God's great household, you will 
 have different things to attend to, or new du- 
 ties. As a daughter, it was your duty to love 
 and help your parents ; as a servant, you will 
 have other things that you ought to attend to." 
 
 " I see," said Ann, " I see it all now. 
 And you say that God is as much pleased 
 with a good servant as with a good king ; that 
 the station makes no difference in his eyes ; 
 and that all the real honour is in doing the du- 
 ties of our own station. So there is nothing 
 low or mean in being at service, you think. 
 But," added she, thoughtfully, '* after all, the 
 station of a servant is a poor, good-for-nothing 
 station. For surely a girl that is working about 
 house all the time cannot be helping any body 
 to do what God wants done. I mean they 
 cannot be helping to spread the gospel and 
 religion, or any such thing. Indeed, I do 
 not see that she can do any good at all." 
 
 " Wrong again," cried Jane ; " you are 
 quite wrong about both those things. Me- 
 chanics, and bakers, and dress-makers, and 
 liouse-servants, when they are hard at work 
 at their trades, are all helping to get the reli- 
 gion of the Bible spread." 
 
 "How you talk now !" cried Ann,- in sur- 
 prise ; " how can one that is baking bread, 
 or making clothes, or cooking a dinner, be 
 
20 
 
 Colour-grinder— Servants spread the gospel. 
 
 helping to teach men about God and re- 
 ligion ?" 
 
 " Why, just in the same way that Dermot, 
 the colour-grinder, helped his master to paint 
 the beautiful pictures. Dermot took me once 
 to the room with him. The gentleman was 
 laying on the colours in a way none of us 
 could do, I am sure. I could not make out 
 how he did it. And all the time Dermot was 
 grinding the lumps of paint into smooth pow- 
 der, and mixing the oils, and making the 
 canvass ready for him. Now what if there 
 had been no one to do these things ?" 
 
 " I suppose," said Ann, " the painter must 
 have left off painting to do them himself." 
 
 '' Just so," said Jane ; " and that would 
 have taken up about all his time, so that he 
 could neither have painted himself nor taught 
 his scholars, though he knew how so well; 
 and so there would have been no pictures, or 
 very few. Now" — 
 
 *' I know what you are going to say," cried 
 Ann, her face brightening up ; " if there were 
 no mechanics and no servants, then preachers 
 and writers, and all such as have gained a 
 good education, would have to get their own 
 food and clothes, and do housework for them- 
 selves. And that would keep them busy aU 
 day long, and every day ; so that they would 
 not have time to preach and write books, and 
 spread knowledge and religion, however fit 
 
21 
 
 A servant's influence — Pious nurse-maid. 
 
 and able they might be to do it; so there 
 would be little or no good done. Yes, I see 
 that servants help to get the gospel taught, 
 just as Dermot helped to get the pictures 
 painted." 
 
 " Well done, Ann !" exclaimed Jane, with 
 a smile, " you took the words right out of my 
 mouth. And besides making time for others, 
 a girl at service may do many things to cause 
 her fellow creatures to be religious and hap- 
 py. If she is careful to follow the rules of 
 the Bible in all her conduct to her employers 
 and to her companions, they will notice it, 
 and will see that her religion makes her what 
 she should be ; and that will be very likely 
 to lead them to be so too. And how much 
 good may she do her fellow servants by read- 
 ing the Bible to them, and speaking to them 
 of their duty, and telling them of iheir faults 
 in a proper manner. In many situations she 
 may do the same towards the children. 
 
 ** I have heard the story of a pious nurse-maid 
 whose prayers and efforts were very much 
 blessed in this way. One night when the 
 little girls of whom she had the care were 
 going to bed, she offered to read to them in 
 the Bible. They let her do it because she 
 wished it ; for she was so faithful and so kind, 
 that they would not disoblige her. Evening 
 after evening she read to them, but they 
 ' cared for none of these things.' At last she 
 
22 
 
 Blessing to a family— Error seen. 
 
 was taken sick, and she died in the house. 
 During her last sickness, she was full of 
 peace and joy, because she trusted in her Sa- 
 viour, and she had a hope of heaven and of 
 everlasting happiness. Then the young peo- 
 ple began to think that there must be some- 
 thing good in her religion. They remember 
 ed the truths their nurse had so often read 
 and talked about; and soon, through the 
 blessing of God, the greater part of the family 
 became truly pious, and remarkable for living 
 as Christians ought to live. 
 
 '* There is still another way in which a good 
 servant can often be of the greatest use and 
 comfort to those she lives with. I mean by 
 attending and helping the sick and dying. I 
 think that the station of a servant is one in 
 which a person may be very useful." 
 
 Ann sat a moment, thinking. 
 
 *' Well, to be sure !" said she at last, '* how 
 foolish and ignorant I was. I thought I was 
 just to -work, because I must do it for my 
 living ; and that all I was to try for, was to 
 get as much wages, and do as little work as 
 ever I could. 5iow I see, that in going to 
 service, I am taking one of the places or sta- 
 tions under God in this world. That I am 
 going to take part of his work, and a part too 
 that must be done by somebody or other, oi 
 the gospel would never be taught and preach- 
 ed ah over the world. And what I am to try 
 
23 
 
 Instruction asked — Jane's promise. 
 
 to do, is to please God by doing as I ought to 
 do in that station, and by using all the oppor- 
 tunities it gives me of doing good to those 
 around me. But, dear aunt," added she, '* I 
 do not know rightly what I ought to do as a 
 servant. What are the duties of my station ? 
 How can I find out?" 
 
 *' Read your Bible, and pray God to show 
 you, and to help you," answered Jane. 
 
 "Ann," said she, after a while, ''I will 
 tell you what I will do for you. I will teach 
 you what the lady I live with taught me. 1 
 went to her when I was twelve years old 
 and a wild unruly child I was. Mrs. Ray- 
 mond was a young married woman then, and 
 a dear good woman she was, too. She bore 
 with my faults and follies, and took as mucii 
 charge of me as if 1 had been her own. And 
 with all the care and kindness possible, she 
 went on, day after day, and month after 
 month, trying to teach me what was proper, 
 and to make me love to do it. God bless 
 her !" added Jane, with tears in her eyes ; '* I 
 trust that because of her prayers, God sent 
 his Holy Spirit to change my heart ; and that 
 he has made me know and do my duty. And 
 now, dear child, if you will come to see me 
 on Sunday evenings, 1 will try to make 5^ou 
 understand yours. She does not like me to 
 have visiters in the nursery; but I know 
 when 1 talk yj her about it, she wiU be glad 
 
24 
 
 Another error. 
 
 to have you come. And you shall tell me 
 about your place, and your fellow-servants, and 
 how you get along ; and I dare say I can help 
 you. For besides the good teaching 1 have 
 had, I have known a great many girls and 
 women in my life, and a great many things 
 you would like to hear." 
 
 " I thank you, aunt," said Ann. *' If 
 you will teach me my duty, and watch over 
 me, I shall be sure to do well." 
 
 " Nay, nay," said Jane ; *' not so, Ann. 
 God, the Holy Spirit, is the only one that can 
 teach you all things, and * lead you into all 
 truth.' He can * work in you both to will 
 and to do' what you should. Pray always 
 to Him. And now, before we part, suppose 
 we ask Him to take charge of you." 
 
 And they kneeled down together, and Jane 
 prayed for the blessing of God to rest on Ann 
 in all her ways. 
 
25 
 
 Looking for a place. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Getting a Place, 
 
 Early next morning, Ann was at Mrs. Ray- 
 mond's, asking to see Jane Dugan. 
 
 '' Good morning, aunt," said she, " can 
 you go out with me to look for a place ? Do 
 you know of any lady who wants a girl ?" 
 
 " That is what I have been asking Mrs. 
 Raymond," answered Jane, *'but she says 
 she has not heard of any lately. However, 
 she showed me some advertisements in the 
 newspaper, and I cut them out for you. 
 Here is one." 
 
 Wanted. A young, active, and steady female, to 
 assist in doing kitchen work. 
 
 N. B. The highest wages given, and the best re- 
 commendations required. 
 
 Inquire at No. *** Broadway. 
 
 " That must be a good place !" exclaimed 
 Ann. 
 
 " Here is another" said Jane. 
 
 Wanted. A woman to do the chamberwork of a 
 small family. None need apply who cannot bring re- 
 commendations of good character. 
 No. *** Bowery. 
 
 '* I wonder whether that is a good place, 
 said Ann. 
 
 C 
 
26 
 
 A good place— A bad place. 
 
 " What would you call a good place ?'* 
 asked Jane. 
 
 " One where I could get easy work and 
 high wages, to be sure." 
 
 ** Is that all you care about ?" 
 
 " The lady must be pleasant tempered." 
 
 " Is that all ? — well, I have different thoughts 
 about what makes a good place. The work 
 might be ever so light, and the wages ever so 
 high, and the people ever so pleasant ; and 
 yet the place might be a very bad one accord- 
 ing to my notion !" 
 
 *' What ! a bad place, with easy work, high 
 wages, and pleasant people !" 
 
 " Yes ! are we not all servants of God, 
 Ann ? do you forget this so soon ?" 
 
 ** Sure enough ! Therefore I suppose we 
 must obey him, and do the duties of our 
 station." 
 
 *' But what if the lady at the pleasant place 
 required you to work on Sundays more than 
 need be, and so to break the commandment, 
 * In it thou SHALT DO NO WORK V What if 
 they kept you from church, and from your 
 Bible, so that you would never be reminded 
 and taught about God and your duty ? Would 
 you be likely to mind and serve your hea- 
 venly Master in such a place. Would not 
 such a place be a very bad one ?" 
 
 Ann looked half-frightened. 
 
27 
 
 Dangers— Safeguards. 
 
 " Why, aunt," cried she, *' are there any 
 places where such things are required?" 
 
 ** Yes, many," answered Jane ; " if a girl 
 was really obliged to live in such a place, she 
 might, perhaps, by constantly praying God 
 to help her ; and by trying to think of him 
 and mind him, she might love him and grow 
 better and better; but do you think you 
 would be likely to do it?" 
 
 " Oh, dear," said Ann, "that would never 
 do for me ! I found it difficult to keep think- 
 ing of such things, and to mind and serve God 
 even when I was at home, with my dear mo- 
 ther to watch over me and help me. I do not 
 know what I should come to, if I were in a 
 family that kept me away from religious 
 instruction, and bid me to do what is wrong. 
 Such a place would be the very worst ; and 
 if their work was as light as nothing, their 
 wages ever so high, and their tempers as 
 sweet and pleasant as could be, I would not 
 go there." 
 
 " It would be a sin in you if you did," 
 answered Jane. " And now I will tell you 
 what I think is a good place. One where 
 the people are religious, and help their 
 servants to think of God, and to obey and 
 serve him. There are not many such places, 
 but there are some. You may find here and 
 there a lady, who, having little to do, takes 
 the pains to teach her girls regularly about 
 
^8 
 
 First adventure— A. fine house. 
 
 God and their duty. There are more who 
 give them good advice, and let them hear the 
 the Bible read and explained at prayer-times. 
 These places are the very best. A person 
 who truly desires to do right will put up 
 with less wages, and harder work, for the 
 sake of being taught about God and what 
 she should do. When you are asking your 
 acquaintances about places, try to find out 
 some such place." 
 
 " Sure," said Ann, " I want some one to 
 teach me what God would have me do, and 
 to tell me when I am pleasing him, and 
 when I am not; for I do not know much 
 about these things. That is the kind of 
 place I will try to get." 
 
 " I wish Mrs. Raymond knew of one for 
 you," said Jane, thoughtfully, ''but she does 
 not. If she will give me leave, though, I will 
 just put on my bonnet, and go round with 
 you now to those in the paper, and see the 
 ladies. We do not know but some of them 
 will do." 
 
 Mrs. Raymond told Jane she might go, if 
 she would return soon. So off they started ; 
 and soon they came to No. *** Broadway. 
 The house was large and handsome, with 
 mahogany window-frames, and marble steps 
 and entrance. The name on the door-plate was 
 Smith, The servant who opened the door 
 left them standing there, till he had told Mrs. 
 
29 
 
 Mrs. Smith. 
 
 Smith that two girls wanted to speak to her 
 about her place. 
 
 *' Direct them to come to me in the par- 
 lour," said the lady. 
 
 The polished door was opened wide ; and 
 Jane walked in, Ann following close behind 
 her. Ann had never before been in a house 
 so handsome and so splendidly furnished. 
 Her eyes were wandering round, when she 
 was startled and reminded of her business by 
 the voice of Mrs. Smith. 
 
 " Sit down," said she, pointing to two chairs 
 near the door. The lady was on the sofa. 
 She was a tall, fine-looking woman, very 
 c 2 
 
30 
 
 Ann questioned — Her qualifications. 
 
 richly dressed, and very proud and stately in 
 her appear-ance. She fixed her eyes on the 
 girls, and looked at them from head to foot. 
 At last she spoke. 
 
 " So you want to engage my place ?" 
 
 " My niece here wished to speak about 
 it," said Jane. 
 
 The lady smiled. 
 
 " O !" said she, " there is no danger but 
 that it would suit her. I give the highest 
 wages in the city. Money is no object with 
 me, but I expect good service. My girls do 
 not have so much to do either, but I give 
 them full notice what I shall expect from 
 them, and that I must have done." 
 
 To this Jane had nothing to say. The 
 lady then turned to Ann, and began to ques- 
 tion her thus : — 
 
 '•' Have you ever been out to service ?" 
 
 " No, ma'am." 
 
 *' Where have you lived ?" 
 
 "In Ireland, ma'am, we lived on a little 
 farm ; but after father died, we came to Ame- 
 rica, and then mother fell sick, and I have 
 been with her." 
 
 " Does any respectable person here know 
 you ?" 
 
 " I am her aunt, ma'am," said Jane, " and 
 I have lived near thirty years with Mrs. 
 Raymond. She can tell about us both." 
 
 **Very good," said the lady; '« but I sup- 
 
31 
 
 Questions continued — Requisites, 
 
 pose your niece does not know how to do 
 any thing ?" 
 
 '' She can cook plain joints and steaks, 
 ma'am, and wash dishes and clean up things. 
 She was eldest daughter at home, and used 
 to do all the little work about house." 
 
 '* You are not proud, are you, young wo- 
 man ? you would have no objection to being 
 under the teaching of an experienced cook ?" 
 
 At the word teaching Ann smiled for joy ; 
 but she soon found out her mistake, for the 
 lady went on thus : — 
 
 " She is as good a cook as can be found ; 
 and you will have a fine chance of learning 
 your business, while you are helping her 
 about the kitchen." 
 
 " I hope I am not too proud to be glad to 
 get knowledge, ma'am," said Ann. 
 
 '* Well, perhaps you will suit me. Are you 
 strong?" 
 
 '* Yes, ma'am." 
 
 *' Healthy?" 
 
 " Yes, ma'am." 
 
 " Active ?" 
 
 *' Yes, ma'am." 
 
 *' Honest and sober ?" ^ 
 
 " Yes, ma'am." 
 
 " Steady and industrious?" 
 
 " I hope so, ma'am." 
 
 *' Clean ? You must be clean." 
 
 " I think I am clean, ma'am." 
 
33 
 
 Ann suits— Mrs, Smith's mistake. 
 
 " O yes !" said Jane ; *' she is very nice 
 and neat in her ways ; and so was her mother 
 before her." 
 
 " That is well," said the lady ; "and you 
 will not want to be running out and seeing 
 company when there is work to do ?" 
 
 " O no, ma'am ! I have no acquaintance 
 except my aunt here." 
 
 " Well, I think you will do ; I will engage 
 you, if Mrs. Raymond speaks well of you." 
 
 She waited a moment. No one spoke. At 
 length Mrs. Smith repeated it, 
 
 *' I will engage you ; do you understand 
 me?" 
 
 " Yes, ma'am," said Ann ; " but" — 
 
 " But what ? O you are waiting to hcc.r 
 how much wages I give ! Do not be uneas}' 
 about that. I have never had a girl in just 
 such a situation. How much do you think 
 you ought to have ?" 
 
 " I do not know, ma'am," said Ann, " that 
 was not what I was" — 
 
 But Mrs. Smith interrupted her. 
 
 '* Well, young woman, I will make in- 
 quiries, and you may ask too among your 
 aunt's acquaintances, and see how much you 
 could get in such a place. Now, mark me; 
 I will give a dollar more than the most. As 
 I said before, money is no object with me. I 
 only want good service." 
 
33 
 
 Sunday privileges. 
 
 Again she paused for an answer, but there 
 was none. 
 
 " O you are thinking perhaps that I shall be 
 a hard mistress. No, indeed ! I never scold 
 or quarrel with my domestics. My work must 
 be done. If the girl does it, all is well. If 
 not, she and I part at once, and without any 
 words. Shall I consider you engaged to 
 me ?" 
 
 Ann blushed and hesitated ; but could not 
 command her voice. Jane Dugan, who saw 
 her trouble, and knew what she wanted to 
 find out, at last took pity on her, and spoke 
 for her. 
 
 " What privileges do you allow, ma'am, 
 about going out on Sundays ?" 
 
 " I thought your niece did not wish to go 
 out much," said Mrs. Smith. 
 
 " No, .ma'am, she does not, but she ought, 
 you know, to go to church every Sunday." 
 
 The lady looked displeased. Jane went on. 
 
 " As you have two girls in the kitchen, 
 ma'am, I did not know but you might so ar- 
 range it as to let one go out at a time, or, at any 
 rate, so that they need not work much that 
 day." 
 
 " Why are you so particular?" said Mrs. 
 Smith; "I think a girl who is paid such 
 wages as I pay, might be willing to work on 
 Sundays as well as on other days." 
 
 '* But, ma'am," said Jane, ** God's com 
 
34 
 
 Mrs. Smith's views — Ann declines. 
 
 mand says, * the seventh day is the Sabbath 
 of the Lord thy God : in it thou shalt not do 
 any work ; thou, nor thy son, nor thy daugh- 
 ter, thy man-servant, nor thy maid-servant,' 
 Now it is well for people to understand each 
 other before they make an agreement. My 
 niece, ma'am, knows that she has a Master in 
 heaven, who must be first obeyed ; and she 
 would not be willing to displease him on any 
 account. You will have no objection to that, 
 
 ma am 
 
 ?" 
 
 '* Indeed," said Mrs. Smith, " I never trou- 
 ble myself about the concerns of my kitchen- 
 girls. If they choose to have notions of 
 their own, they may. It is nothing to me, so 
 long as I get my work well done. But as for 
 Sunday," added she, almost laughing, " oh, 
 certainly, she may go to church all day long, 
 if she can help cook, and wash dishes, while 
 she is there. We have a great many friends, 
 and Mr. Smith is very fond of company ; and 
 we have a large family party to dine with us 
 every Sunday ; and I rather think that my 
 kitchen-girls would be hard pushed, that day, 
 to find much lime for praying and psalm sing- 
 ing." 
 
 " Then, ma'am," said Ann, *' I cannot 
 come to you." 
 
 There was a flush of colour on her cheek 
 as she said this, and her eye sparkled. Mrs. 
 Smith saw that she had offended the girl, and 
 
35 
 
 Ann is firm — Strong temptation . 
 
 she was sorry, for Ann seemed just the decent, 
 active, willing girl she wanted. She, there- 
 fore, changed her look and manner, and said, 
 in a milder voice, 
 
 " Come, young woman, you had better 
 think again about that matter. It is not every 
 day you Avill have a chance of getting a dol- 
 lar a month more than other people, and of 
 being taught your business under a professed 
 cook." 
 
 Ann had risen from her seat ; she stood a 
 minute as if in doubt. She looked at Mrs. 
 Smith, then at her aunt Jane ; but when she 
 spoke, it was clearly and firmly. 
 
 *' No, ma'am, no ; I cannot serve any one, 
 who would keep me from minding my hea- 
 venly Master, and would not let me go to 
 learn his will ;" and making a slight curtesy, 
 she left the house. 
 
 ** That was right, Ann," said Jane. 
 
 ** I know it," said Ann, drawing a long 
 breath, ** but that dollar more, and that cook- 
 ing to be taught, were great temptations to go. 
 I do not believe I could have said no, if it 
 had not been for two thoughts that came into 
 my mind. One was, I am afraid 1 shall not 
 obey God, nor learn what is right to do in my 
 own station, unless I attend on the means of 
 instruction, that God has appointed for that 
 purpose, and which he bids us go to hear. The 
 other was, what God says in the Bible, that 
 
36 
 
 Do as you agree— Wages. 
 
 we must do no work on the Sabbath-day ; and 
 I must not offend him by engaging to dis 
 obey this commandment, Sunday after Sun- 
 day." 
 
 " Oh !" said Jane, " that puts me in mind 
 of something. I forgot to warn you, before 
 we started, to be very careful what you en- 
 gage or agree to do, when you take your 
 place. For when you make an agreement or 
 engagement with a lady, after the matter is 
 once settled, you must do just so till the end 
 of your time, unless both you and your em- 
 ployer will consent to some other arrange- 
 ment. So be careful what you agree to ; and 
 when it is done, be careful to keep your agree- 
 ment, and never break your word." 
 
 They walked along in silence, till Ann ex- 
 claimed, 
 
 " Aunt, Mrs. Smith asked me how much 
 wages I would want ? How much ought I to 
 have ?" 
 
 " That depends upon what kind of situation 
 you take," answered Jane. She then told her 
 what was generally given in New York. 
 
 " And it is always best to ask about the 
 common price, and no more. I have known 
 girls miss getting good places by asking too 
 high wages. Most ladies know what is 
 right, and what is generally given ; and when 
 a girl comes and asks more, they set her down 
 ai once as mean and covetous, ot else full of 
 
37 
 
 A nice house — Mrs. Denby. 
 
 high notions ; and they feel offended at her 
 for trying to impose on them : so it does her 
 harm, and not good. Always ask just what 
 is right and customary, and no more." 
 
 There was another long silence, as they 
 went along a cross street to the Bowery. On 
 one corner was a grog-shop ; on the other, 
 §tood a nice-looking small two story house. 
 ** This must be the place," said Jane. The 
 name on the door was George Denby, The 
 windows were very clean and nice, and the 
 steps were white as the driven snow. At the 
 foot of them was a large under-scraper, and at 
 the top a bushy foot-mat. The girls took the 
 hint, and wiped all the dirt from their shoes. 
 The door was opened by a young woman 
 going out. She held her handkerchief to her 
 eyes ; and as she passed them, they heard 
 her say, " She was a good mistress indeed !" 
 They stood a moment in the entry, not know- 
 ing where to go. 
 
 Just then the parlour-door opened, and an 
 elderly female, seeing them standing in the 
 entry, asked them what they wanted ; and 
 then led them into the room. A well-dressed 
 man was sitting in the window, with a book 
 in his hand When they were seated, the wo- 
 man said, 
 
 "I am Mrs. Denby; what shall I call 
 you?" 
 
 *' Jane Dugan, ma'am." 
 D 
 
38 
 
 Mrs. Denby's. 
 
 "You have come here, Jane, to see about 
 taking my place. Have you not?" 
 
 ** No, ma'am ; it is my niece here that 
 wants a situation ; my niece Ann Connover." 
 
 " Well, Jane, I suppose you read about it 
 in the paper. I want a girl to do my cham- 
 ber-work and to sew. It is an easy place for 
 any one ; for there is only myself and Mr, 
 Denby at home, and you see the house is 
 small ; and besides that, I keep it in order 
 pretty much myself. I never let anybody 
 about house come into the parlour except my- 
 self. You would have nothing to do with them. 
 I am not obliged to do it, to be sure," added 
 she, looking towards the large old-fashioned 
 sideboard, which was actually loaded with 
 heavy silver plate ; "for we are rich enough 
 now for me to sit idle all day, with my hands 
 before me, like some fine ladies I know, that 
 cannot afford it half as well. But that is not 
 my way. I was always brought up to work, 
 and to see to things myself, and I like it ; 
 and the sewing is abou% the most that Ann 
 would have to do. Can she sew well ?" 
 
 " Yes, ma'am," said Jane, " she is quite 
 handy with her needle." 
 
 After a few more questions about character, 
 and so forth, in regard to which she seemed 
 quite satisfied, Mrs. Denby said, " Well, 
 Ann, would you like to come and live with 
 mer 
 
39 
 
 Ann declines — And why. 
 
 '* Yes, ma'am," said Ann, " if" — she he- 
 sitated. 
 
 " If what ? speak out, child ?" 
 
 " I suppose, ma'am, you would allow me 
 to go out once on the Sabbath." 
 
 " Certainly," said she. 
 
 ^' You do not require more work, ma'am, 
 on Sunday than is necessary ?" 
 
 Before Mrs. Denby could answer, the 
 gentleman who had been all the time sitting 
 in the window, came up to Mrs. Denby, and 
 whispered to her so loud that they even heard 
 some such words as these : '* impertinent ques- 
 tions," " pious canting sort," *' trouble enough 
 with the one that is just gone ;" and at the 
 end almost aloud, " so long as I am master of 
 this house, I will have no such thing in it ;" 
 and with this he left the room. 
 
 Ann was now sure that this was the master 
 of the house, and that he would dislike and 
 oppose her in every religious privilege ; and 
 she made up her mind not to go there. As 
 they left the house, Jane saw the tears falling 
 from Ann's eyes. 
 
 " Why, what is the matter now ?" said 
 she ; *' are you grieved because you missed 
 getting an easy place ?" 
 
 " Not just for that," answered Ann ; 
 ** though it was an easy place, it was a bad 
 one ; for Mr. Denby could not bear that 
 any one should have Christian privileges; 
 
40 
 
 Ann despairs. 
 
 but — ^I am afraid I cannot find any such 
 family as you a call good one. I am afraid all 
 the people will have me break God's com- 
 mands, or not stay with them. And what 
 then ? I cannot live on nothing. Must I 
 starve ?" 
 
 " You must not disobey God at any rate," 
 said Jane ; " but do not be discouraged, child. 
 Pray to Him, and he will take care of you, 
 and lead you into good. Is that all that trou- 
 bles you ?" 
 
 " Were we impertinent, aunt? Mr. Denby 
 called us so." 
 
 "I do not think we were. We only asked 
 about a few things you wished to know, and 
 those too are things God has given you a 
 right to ask about." 
 
 Jane said no more ; but presently laughed 
 aloud. 
 
 " Now, aunt," cried Ann, looking up in 
 surprise, '* you are laughing at me." 
 
 " No, indeed, I am not : but your question 
 about impertinence made me think of some 
 girls I have heard speaking to ladies about 
 living with them. 
 
 " There was one came to Mrs. Raymond's 
 not long ago, wanting her cook's place. She 
 was shown into the front parlour ; and as I 
 was cleaning in the back room, I could not 
 but hear all that passed. When Mrs. Ray 
 mond came in, the woman said, 
 
41 
 
 The tables turned. 
 
 *' * You want to engage a cook, ma'am ; do 
 you not V 
 
 "*Ido.' 
 
 " ' What do you expect your cook to do, 
 ma'am?" 
 
 " ' I require her to attend to the cooking, 
 and to keep the kitchen, lower entries, and 
 pantries clean and in order.' 
 
 " * Is your family small, ma'am ?' 
 
 " * My family is quite large, but we see 
 very little company, and never give great 
 dinner and supper parties.' 
 
 " ' Well, ma'am, who brings in the water ?' 
 
 " ' The cook brings in all the water she 
 wants to use.' 
 
 " * And who brings in the wood V 
 
 " ' The cook brings from the wood-house 
 what she wants for the kitchen fire.' 
 
 " * Indeed ! where I have lived, I had a boy 
 to fetch in wood and water for me.' 
 
 " Thus she went on asking questions, and 
 telling what she had been used to, and what 
 she expected. Any one would have thought, 
 to hear her talk, that she was going to hire 
 and pay Mrs. Raymond, instead of Mrs. 
 Raymond's hiring her. At last Mrs. Ray- 
 mond asked her where she had lived. 
 
 " ' At Mr. Dickinson's, ma'am ; and there 
 they kept a boy to tend me.' 
 
 a i Very likely,' said Mrs. Raymond ; * but 
 I do not keep any one to wait on my cooks. 
 d2 
 
42 
 
 Good place foolishly lost. 
 
 The water comes into the kitchen in pipes, 
 she has nothing to do but to turn a faucet ; 
 and the wood-house is so close to the kitch- 
 en-door, that she need not wet her feet in go- 
 ing for wood ; but you will not suit me.' 
 
 it i Why not, ma'am V cried the girl, in sur- 
 prise. 
 
 ** ' You are too particular, and you have too 
 high notions,' answered Mrs. Raymond. 
 
 ** ' Ma'am,' said the girl, in a very different 
 tone, * I hope you are not angry Tor the ques- 
 tions I asked you ?' and then she began to 
 make excuses, and to say that she would be 
 very sorry to miss getting the place, for an 
 acquaintance of her's had spoken so well 
 of Mrs. Raymond and her house, she knew 
 it was just the situation she would like, (fee. 
 
 "While she was talking, some ladies came 
 in, and Mrs. Raymond said to her, — 
 
 " ' It is not worth while for either of us to 
 say any more, or to ask any more questions. 
 I am sure you will not suit me.' 
 
 " The girl begged the lady's pardon, and 
 pleaded long before she could make up her 
 mind to give up the place, for she wanted it 
 very much. It was all of no use, however; 
 she had better have been humble, and mo- 
 dest, and respectful at first." 
 
 <* That is what I will be," said Ann. 
 *' When I go to ask about a place, I will not 
 put myself forward ; but I will let the lady 
 
43 
 
 The boasting cook. 
 
 question me first ; and then, if she would like 
 to have me come, I will ask her the few things 
 I want to know; but I will do it properly; 
 and I will not be making myself great, and 
 showing high notions, like that silly woman." 
 
 *' And there is another thing," said Jane. 
 " Never hoast ; and never pretend to know 
 more than you do know, or to be able to do 
 whatyou really cannot do. One of the girls, 
 that came after Mrs. Raymond's place, lost it 
 in this very way. When she was asked 
 whether she considered herself a good cook, 
 she said,— - 
 
 *' ' O yes; I can do all kinds of cooking, 
 and make all kinds of pastry. And then too 
 I am so very clean and particular about it. 
 When I have pastry to make, I comb my 
 hair all through with a fine tooth comb, and 
 tie a handkerchief around my head, and wash 
 my hands, and clean my nails, before I touch 
 a thing. And my pots and kettles are always 
 so nice ! I keep the outside of my frying- 
 pan as clean as the inside.' " 
 
 *' Sure," said Ann, " the girl was not back- 
 ward in praising herself. Was it all true ?" 
 
 ** Oh no," said Jane, '* that is the worst of 
 it ! Mrs. Raymond sent to the lady she had 
 lived with, to ask about her ; and she found 
 out that she was so dirty about her work, 
 and so careless and slovenly in her dress, 
 that they could not keep her in the kitchen. 
 
44 
 
 Such a thing as knowing too much. 
 
 Her frying-pan was certainly as clean outside 
 as inside ; but both sides were always dirty ! 
 Mrs. Raymond said, when she heard it, that 
 she thought something was wrong, when the 
 girl had so much to say for herself. Of 
 course, she did not take her. And suppose 
 she had, she would soon have found her out ; 
 and then she would have turned her off for 
 having deceived her so, even if she had 
 suited in other things. - 
 
 " I remember once as I was waiting in the 
 hall of a house, where 1 had been sent with 
 a note, a girl came to get a place. The lady 
 stepped into the hall to see her. 
 
 " * What kind of place do you want?' 
 
 '* ' O ! any kind, ma'am.' 
 
 '* * Can you do cooking and kitchen work, 
 or up-stairs work?' 
 
 " ' O ! I can do any kind! up-stairs, or down, 
 it's all the same to me ! I have been a house- 
 keeper myself, and that is the reason I know 
 so much.' 
 
 "'Have you? Why, really, you know 
 quite too much for me ! I do not want a wo- 
 man who can do every thing and any thing. 
 You may go.' Ladies do not like girls that 
 boast so much. 
 
 " I have known many a girl get herself into 
 trouble, and vex and mortify the mistress of 
 the house, by undertaking to cook things 
 that she did not know any thing about. I 
 
45 
 
 New mode of cooking shrimps. 
 
 heard Mrs. Van Wall telling Mrs. Raymond 
 about a girl that served her so. It seems 
 that a gentleman happened to come in, one 
 day, when the dinner was worse than usual, 
 for the pudding had been spoiled in the 
 boiling. Soon after that, the same gentleman 
 was invited there to a large dinner party. 
 You may be sure that Mrs. Van Wall was 
 very anxious to have every thing nice this 
 time. So she told the woman in the kitchen 
 what she wanted for her great, dinner, and 
 offered to hire a professed cook, for that day, 
 to prepare it. But the girl was too proud for 
 that ; and declared that if she could not cook 
 such a dinner, she would not go out to do 
 cooking any more ; and that she would much 
 rather have the whole care of it herself. 
 
 '' Mrs. Van Wall let her have her own 
 way. When the soup and fish were put on 
 the table, among other things there was sal- 
 mon, with shrimp sauce. Now, if you nev5r 
 saw shrimps, you must be told, that they 
 are small shell-fish, each one having a hard 
 shell on. In making the sauce, these shells 
 should be pulled off before the melted butter 
 is poured over the little fish. But the cook 
 did not know this ; for when the ladies and 
 gentlemen put the shrimps into their mouths, 
 they rolled about, and craunched between 
 their teeth like so many stones. 
 
 *' But this was not all. When the fish was 
 
46 
 
 New oyster sauce. 
 
 removed, and the second course set upon the 
 table, at one end there was 'a large turkey, 
 with oyster sauce. But such sauce! The girl 
 had never cooked the oysters, but had laid 
 them on, all raw and cold, and then poured 
 the melted butter over them. Of course it 
 was cold, too, and good for nothing. The 
 lady was excessively mortified, and the cook 
 was sent away the very next day; and all 
 because she pretended to know more than 
 she really did know." 
 
 By this time they had reached Mrs. Ray- 
 mond's house. 
 
 " Good-by," said Jane. ''I must go in, 
 you know, but you had better not waste this 
 day. Ask, as you go along, at the doors of re- 
 spectable houses whether they want a girl." 
 
 "Oh!" said Ann, "after what you have 
 been saying, I am afraid to go alone. I 
 shall not dare to speak at all." 
 
 " That is not right," said Jane ; " I do not 
 want you to be silly and shamefaced. All I 
 told you was, not to ask too much wages ; 
 not to be impertinent ; and not to boast, nor 
 pretend to know more than you do. But 
 you must be careful when you make your 
 agreement, because you have got to keep it ; 
 and therefore you ought to speak out in a 
 modest manner, and to ask what you want to 
 know about the place before yas. take h 
 Good-by " 
 
47 
 
 New place offered. 
 
 She shut the door after her. Ann inquired 
 at a few houses,* but the answer was " No !" 
 '* No !" Some wanted a professed cook ; 
 others wanted a man ; and some said they 
 " would not have Irish ;" and soon, discou- 
 raged and disheartened, she gave it up, and 
 went to her lodgings to put her clothes in 
 order. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Mrs, Sinclair. 
 
 ** Good news for you, Ann !" cried Jane, 
 coming into the room on the next morning, 
 where her niece was eating her lonely break- 
 fast ; " good news for you ! Mrs. Raymond 
 has heard of just such a place as you want. 
 It is at Mrs. Sinclair's ; she is a very pious 
 lady, who takes great pains to teach and 
 guard her servants. 1 am only afraid that 
 you will not be old enough to do her cook- 
 ing ; but it is worth while to try, at any 
 rate, and I can go with you this morning." 
 
 The bonnet was on in a minute ; and soon 
 Jane and Ann were at Mrs. Sinclair's. The 
 waiter took them into the kitchen, and went 
 
48 
 
 The backbiting servant. 
 
 away to call the lady. There was a woman 
 standing by the table, washing up the break- 
 fast dishes. 
 
 *' Good morning," said Jane, civilly. 
 
 '* Good day to you !" said the woman, 
 looking at them ; ''I suppose you have come 
 to see about the place I am leaving." 
 
 *' We heard that Mrs. Sinclair wanted a 
 girl," said Jane. 
 
 *' Sure enough !" said the woman.; *' but 
 I can tell you one thing ; if you come to her, 
 you will not stay long.' 
 
 ** Why not ?" asked Ann, a little angrily; 
 '* how do you know about me ?" 
 
 " Oh ! no disparagement to you," said the 
 woman ; ** I dare say you are a very good girl ; 
 but no one can live with Mrs. Sinclair, she 
 is so hard and cruel. She is so particular, 
 and she w^ill not give you a bit of liberty, but 
 you must do just so and so ; and if you do 
 wrong at all, she will never pass it over, like 
 other ladies, but she will speak of every little 
 thing. I am sure no decent girl could stay 
 with her." 
 
 With this she rattled the things about, in a 
 way that showed how much she was out of 
 humour. 
 
 Just then the waiter came back to take 
 Jane and Ann up-stairs. Mrs. Sinclair was 
 sitting in her nursery, in the midst of a 
 group of busy happy children. She was a 
 
49 
 
 Mrs. Sinclair. 
 
 delicate looking woman, with a remarkably 
 sweet expression of countenance. 
 
 " She does not look cross and severe at 
 at any rate," thought Ann. 
 
 The lady spoke to Jane, supposing that she 
 wished to come to her ; but Jane said, 
 
 " I am at service : it is my niece here that 
 is after the place." 
 
 *' She looks very young," said Mrs. Sin- 
 clair ; '* I wanted a steady middle-aged woman 
 in my kitchen, who can cook a handsome 
 dinner without any help or direction. I fear 
 your niece cannot take such a situation yet." 
 
50 
 
 Duties of employers. 
 
 Jane and Ann both looked disappointed. 
 
 " I am very sorry, ma'am," said Jane, " very 
 sorry indeed. For Ann will have to go some- 
 where at the end of this week ; and we want, 
 above all things, to get her into a family 
 where she will receive religious instruction ; 
 but such families are not to be found every 
 day." 
 
 *' They are scarce, indeed," said Mrs. Sin- 
 clair ; '* most ladies and gentlemen seem to 
 think their servants mere machines, to serve 
 them and do their work for them, and not as 
 if they had immortal souls like their own." 
 
 Jane and Ann looked at each dther, — they 
 were both thinking of Mrs. Smith. 
 
 This was a subject on which Mrs. Sinclair 
 had thought much, and her heart was full. She 
 often said to her friends, while the tears fell 
 from her eyes, " How many, who have perish- 
 ed for lack of knowledge, might have been 
 saved through the care of their employers ! 
 How few masters and mistresses do the 
 duty of their station ! When we shall stand 
 together before the Lord of all, how few of 
 us will be able to say, ' we have done what 
 it was our duty to do ;' we have prayed with 
 and for them, and taught them, and tried all 
 we could to lead them to Christ and to 
 heaven." 
 
 ** I think I could not venture to take your 
 
51 
 
 New prospect. 
 
 niece," said Mrs. Sinclair, "for with my weak 
 health, and large family, and the style in 
 which 1 must live, and the company I must 
 often have to dinner, I could not undertake to 
 teach a young girl such cooking as I require. 
 But my sister, who is just married, and who 
 lives in the small house next door, wants a 
 girl ; and I dare say you would do very well 
 for her. She will keep but one at present ; so 
 that her work will not be very light ; and she 
 cannot afford to give very high wages ; but 
 she will make you comfortable, and will take 
 as much charge and care of you as you could 
 ask." 
 
 " I should like to speak to her about it, ai 
 any rate," said Ann. 
 
 '^ She has gone out of town to-day ; and I 
 should not be surprised if she were to bring 
 a girl back with her : you may as well call 
 to-morrow, however." 
 
 Ann thanked her, and they went away. 
 
 " How odd !" cried she, as soon as she 
 found herself alone with her aunt ; " how 
 different Mrs. Sinclair seemed from what the 
 cook said of her. After all, though, I am not 
 very sorry that I did not get her place ; the 
 v/oman who has lived there must know all 
 about it." 
 
 " But," said Jane, " she was in a bad hu- 
 mour ; and, perhaps, she gave Mrs. Sinclair 
 
62 
 
 Idle stories. 
 
 a bad name just out of spite and revenge. 
 Perhaps she has been turned off for something ; 
 and sooner than own that, she just pretends 
 she is leaving because the lady is so disagreea- 
 ble. You need never put much faith in what 
 girls say against the places they are quitting. 
 There was Catharine McKinley, — you know 
 her. She would not come to Mrs. Raymond, 
 because Mary told her the lady was so hard, 
 and cross, and particular, no one could bear 
 her. There was not a word of truth in it 
 This Mary had been sent away, at the end of 
 her month, because she was a slut, and no- 
 thing else. And Catharine, by being so silly 
 as to believe her, missed getting one of the 
 very best places in town. I have known 
 girls say, that ladies starved them, and stinted 
 their food, because they would not allow 
 them to waste sugar, and butter, and such 
 things. I have known girls, after taking a 
 place, to be so set against some member of the 
 family, or some part of the work, by those 
 who were there before them, that they never 
 could be pleased, and soon left ; though, if 
 they had been let alone, they would not have 
 been discontented at all. It is foolish to mind 
 what others say. Do not listen to their 
 stories ; but make up your own mind for 
 yourself." 
 
 As they turned the corner of the street, 
 they met a girl tripping along, very smartly* 
 
53 
 
 New acquaintance. 
 
 " 0, Jane Dugan !" cried she, " is that 
 you ? How have you been this long time ; 
 and who is that you have got with you ?" 
 
 '* I am very well, Bridget," said Jane, 
 shaking hands with her ; *' this is my niece, 
 Ann Connover, — when did you come to 
 town ?" 
 
 '* Oh 1 got tired of farm-work pretty 
 soon !" answered Bridget ; *' it was too dull for 
 me. So I left my mother and brother at 
 Squire Rose's, and came down to get a place 
 in the city." 
 
 " So you are looking for one now ?" 
 
 " No, sure I have got one, and a good one 
 too," cried Bridget. " It is to be cook to the 
 lady who lives in the middle house of the great 
 marble row yonder. She is just from the 
 south. She will not hire a man, because she 
 says they are so hard to manage ; but she 
 wants two more white girls besides me. She 
 wants two up stairs. They are to divide the 
 chamber-work between them, and then one 
 is to help wash and iron, and to wait on table 
 sometimes ; and the other is to have the 
 charge of the children, and do sewing." 
 
 " Why, Ann," said Jane, '' that is worth 
 looking after; for you know it is not at all 
 certain that Mrs. Sinclair's sister will have 
 you." 
 
 " Would not that be good ?" cried Brid- 
 get ; " I would be kind to you for your aunt's 
 jb2 
 
54 
 
 Bridget's error corrected. 
 
 sake, if we lived together. Come ; I will 
 show you the house." 
 
 " Well, Ann," said Jane, *' which of the 
 two situations are you going to ask for ?" 
 
 ** I do not know," said Ann. 
 
 " Why, sure," said Bridget, " you would 
 not take the one where you would have to 
 wait at table ?" 
 
 *' And why not ?" asked Ann. 
 
 " What ! would you slave yourself to wait 
 on table ? I would rather starve than do it." 
 
 "O for shame, Bridget," said Jane ; "you 
 have learned that silly notion since you have 
 been in this country. A silly notion it is, to 
 be sure ! When you go to service, is not the 
 very duty of your station to serve your em- 
 ployers ; to save them trouble, and do what 
 they want done. And what difference does 
 it make whether you are shaking up their 
 beds, or handing them the bread and water ; 
 whether you are carrying a bundle through 
 the street for them, or carrying a plate from 
 one end of the table to the other ?" 
 
 '' No difference," said Bridget, ** but" — 
 
 " But nothing," interrupted Jane ; " it is 
 only foolish pride that makes girls unwilling 
 to wait at table ; and pride is very wicked ; 
 God calls it so, at any rate." 
 
 Bridget said no more ; for just then they 
 reached the house, and bidding them good- 
 by, she left them *t the door. Before thev 
 
55 
 
 Mrs. Marsden. 
 
 had time to ring, it was opened by the lady, 
 who was just going out ; but hearing what 
 was their business, she went back with them 
 into the parlour. The room was much more 
 elegant than Mrs. Smith's. There were two 
 young ladies in it, one reading, the other at 
 the piano. The music ceased as they came 
 in; and Mrs. Marsden, throwing herself on 
 the sofa, told them to be seated. 
 
 " You said you wauted to speak about my 
 place," said she, looking at Ann ; " what si- 
 tuation do you wish ?" 
 
 *' A chambermaid's, ma'am," said Ann. 
 
 *' I intend to keep two chambermaids ; one 
 is also to help wash and iron, and occasional- 
 ly tp wait at table ; the other to take care of 
 my little ones, and to sew. Which situation 
 would you like to take ?" 
 
 This was a puzzling question for Ann, 
 and she had had no time to think about it. At 
 first she was going to choose without consi- 
 dering ; but she remembered that here were 
 two Si ■ ions, with proper duties belonging to 
 each of them ; and she hesitated for a mo- 
 ment. 
 
 " I cannot tell, ma'am, without thinking it 
 over a little." 
 
 *' What kind of work have you been used 
 to doing?" said the lady, smiling. 
 
 Ann answered as well as she could ; and 
 after some more questions, Mrs. Marsden de- 
 
56 
 
 Objection to Mrs. Marsden's place. 
 
 cided that if Mrs. Raymond spoke well of 
 her, she would take her in either situation. 
 
 Jane asked what privileges she would have 
 about going to church ; and was told that she 
 might go at least once every Sunday. 
 
 " And I hope, ma'am," said Jane, " that 
 you would not wish her to do much work on 
 that day." 
 
 " I do not know," said Mrs. Marsden, in 
 an indifferent tone, th^t made Jane fear the 
 lady cared little about Sunday or any thing 
 serious. 
 
 To find out how this was, Jane ventured 
 another question. 
 
 " Might Ann come in to family prayers ?" 
 
 The lady looked up. *' Prayers did you 
 say ! is she religious then ?" 
 
 *' She seeks to be so, ma'am, with the 
 help of God ; but she is very ignorant and 
 weak ; and needs a good deal of care and 
 teaching." 
 
 Mrs. Marsden smiled, and said, in a kind 
 voice, — 
 
 " I do not profess to be religious myself, 
 nor do any of my family, but my mother 
 was. I respect those that are really so, and I 
 think religion a very good thing in its place. 
 I would not hinder Ann at all, if she lived 
 with me, nor require her to do any thing she 
 thought wrong; and I would let her go to 
 church, and lend her Bibles and other books; 
 
57 
 
 Which is the best place. 
 
 but we do not have family worship, and I do 
 not feel prepared to undertake to teach and 
 watch over her." 
 
 All were silent a few moments. At last 
 Mrs. Marsden said, 
 
 *' You may take either of my situations, if 
 you choose. What is your answer ?" 
 
 In a moment, Ann thought of the other 
 place ; and compared this and that together. 
 *' Now," thought she, " the work here is 
 pleasanter and the wages higher ; the lady 
 seems kind, and will not hinder me from be- 
 ing good ; but I shall get no help or teaching. 
 There the work is more troublesome, and the 
 wages lower, and I shall be lonely too ; but 
 there I shall have good care and instruction. 
 That is the place for me ! I will go to it, if 
 I can get it ; but if I cannot, I had better 
 make sure of this. I wish I knew about the 
 other." 
 
 " Madam," said she, ** I have promised to 
 call to-morrow to see a lady. If I do not 
 agree to live with her, I should like to come 
 here." 
 
 "You cannot expect me to wait for you 
 then ?" said Mrs. Marsden. '' If, in the 
 mean time, I meet with another who suits 
 me, I shall be at liberty to engage her." 
 
 " Certainly, ma'am," said Ann, rising to 
 
 go. 
 
 *' Well, aunt Jane," said she, when they 
 
58 
 
 Duties of a nurse. 
 
 were in the street again, ** was not that the 
 )est w^ay ?" 
 
 " I think so," said Jane ; " I think it was 
 worth while to take the chance of losing such 
 a place as this is, for the chance of getting 
 such a one as the other. But if you do go to 
 Mrs. Marsden's, which situation would you 
 choose ? 
 
 " Would not the place of nurse be most 
 pleasant ?" 
 
 " I do not know. But that is not what 
 you ought to go by. You should ask, not 
 only which is the most pleasant, but which 
 you are most fit for, and which will be best 
 for you. You must see, before you take 
 either station, whether you will be likely to 
 do the duties of that station." 
 
 *' Well," said Ann, " the great duty of a 
 nurse is to take good care of the children." 
 
 " Yes," said Jane, '* and to teach them obe- 
 dience by setting them the example, and to be 
 kind and gentle, and so to teach them to be 
 the same, and — but here I am at the door ; 
 and I must go in. Good-by, Make up your 
 mind about it yourself." 
 
 " And to do that, I am to consider which I 
 am most fit for, and which is most for my 
 good," thought Ann, as she walked slowly 
 to her lodgings. " Well, I should have as 
 much advantage for being religious in one 
 situation as in the other, as far as 1 can see. 
 
59 
 
 Ann finds a place. 
 
 But about being fit ? — why ! to be sure, I do 
 not know much myself about what is right 
 and wrong ; and I am quick-tempered ; and 
 I never had much charge of our children at 
 home. I am afraid I should not be able to do 
 as a nurse ought to do. And then I am a 
 very good washer and ironer, for I used to 
 help mother when she took in washing. And 
 i could soon learn to wait at table. I think 
 [ am most fit for that other situation, and I 
 will lake it, if I take either." 
 
 When Ann called next morning at Mrs. 
 Sinclair's, she was told that her sister had 
 brought a girl with her from the country. 
 She went as quickly as she could to Mrs. 
 Marsden ; and as that lady had not in the mean 
 time seen any other person that suited her, 
 she engaged Ann to come to her immediately. 
 
 " So now," said Ann to herself, as she was 
 putting up her clothes, " I have got a place ; 
 but for fear I shall have to hunt one again, 
 some time when aunt Jane is not with me, I 
 will get her to write down what she has told 
 me in this little memorandum book." 
 
 Pleased with the thought, she ran round 
 with the little book to Mrs. Raymond's, and 
 Jane wrote in it as follows : 
 
 RULES ABOUT GETTING A PLACE. 
 
 1. A good place is one where I can be in- 
 structed in my duty to God, and to my em- 
 ployers, and to all around me. 
 
60 
 
 Good rules. 
 
 2. Never to take a place where I am re- 
 quired to do what God forbids, or prevented 
 from doing what God requires. 
 
 3. In choosing whether to be cook, cham- 
 bermaid, nurse, and so forth, to consider 
 which situation I am best fitted for, and take 
 that one. 
 
 4. To be careful what I agree to ; and 
 when I have made my agreement, to keep it. 
 
 5. In speaking with a lady, to be modest 
 and respectful ; let her ask questions first. 
 But not to be afraid to inquire about what I 
 wish to know before I engage myself. 
 
 6. Not to be ashamed to wait at table, 
 which is only a foolish pride. 
 
 7. Not to believe much in what is said 
 against a person or a family by those who 
 have lived in the house before me. Judge 
 for myself. 
 
 % 8. Pray to God to help and direct me, and 
 lead me to do as I should. 
 
61 
 
 Ann visits her aunt. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Directions to Servants, from one of the best of Masters. 
 
 The first Sabbath that Ann spent at Mrs. 
 Marsden's, it stormed so violently that she 
 could not stir out of the house ; and on the 
 evening of the second Sabbath she went to 
 Mrs. Raymond's to see her aunt. 
 
 *' Here I am, aunt Jane," said she ; ** you 
 remember your promise, I suppose ?" 
 
 " What! my promise to teach you the du- 
 ties of your new station ?" 
 
 ** Yes," said Ann ; " Mrs. Marsden says I 
 may take turns with the other girls to go out 
 on Sunday evening ; so that I shall be able 
 to come here quite often ; and you will tell 
 me what I ought to do, will you not ? Because 
 you know I get no teaching at home." 
 
 *' To be sure," said Jane, *' and Mrs. 
 Raymond says she will have no objection to 
 your coming ; and we will have nice times 
 together in the nursery. I hope, with God's 
 blessing, our conversations may do you good, 
 and help you to serve Him rightly, and to be 
 useful, respectable, and happy in your station. 
 Come sit up here, and dry your feet by the 
 fire ; and tell me how you like your place." 
 F 
 
62 
 
 Bridget's way. 
 
 *'I can hardly judge yet," answered Ann. 
 '' I do not find the work too much for me ; 
 and the ladies are all very pleasant, so far." 
 
 *' How do you like Bridget McGowan ?" 
 
 " Well, I scarcely know how I like her. 
 She is very cheerful, and very kind and good 
 natured to me ; but she is pueer about some 
 things." 
 
 " Queer ! how ?" 
 
 " Why, you told me, when I took the sta- 
 tion of a domestic, my business would be to 
 serve my employers. I am sure Bridget does 
 not think so ; for she does only just w^hat she 
 has agreed to do ; and that she seems to con 
 
 i 
 
63 
 
 Scripture rules. 
 
 BiQtjr as something that must be got through 
 witti, and the sooner the better. So she bus- 
 tles along any how, to get time afterwards to 
 herself. And when she can get off with 
 doing only part of her work, she seems to 
 think it is clear gain." 
 
 " I wish she was here to-night, to read 
 these texts which I have just been finding," 
 said Jane. 
 
 *' If we read much in the Bible to-night," 
 said Ann, *' you will not have time to teach 
 me the duties of my station." 
 
 Jane smiled. *'I am teaching you now, 
 child," said she. " This is my way of 
 teaching, and the Bible is my lesson-book. 
 You will find that it gives the very advice 
 you want. The God of heaven has told his 
 creatures on earth just what he requires them 
 to do in their different stations. Here, read 
 what he says to servants." 
 
 Ann could read, though slowly. She be- 
 gan ;— 
 
 " Servants, be obedient to them that are your mas- 
 ters according to the flesh ; with fear and trembling, in 
 singleness of your heart, as unto Christ. Not with 
 eye-service, as men-pleasers ; but as the servants of 
 Christ, doing the will of God from the heart ; with 
 good-will doing service as unto the Lord, and not to 
 men. Knowing that whatsoever good thing any man 
 doeth, the same shall he receive of the Lord ; whether 
 h« be bond or free." (Eph. vi. 5 — 8.) 
 
64 
 
 Jane's exposition of Scripture. 
 
 *' Then how are you to mind your employ 
 ers, and to do them service ?" 
 
 Ann read over, — 
 
 " * In singleness of your heart, as unto 
 Christ.' 
 
 "But, aunt," said she, "I do not know 
 how that is." 
 
 " You see that it is God's will that you 
 should mind your employers, and do them 
 service — do you not ?" 
 
 *' Yes." 
 
 *' Well, you are then to try to mind and 
 serve them, because it is the will of God, ' as 
 unto C hrist.' Not, like Bridget, just to drudge 
 through your work because you must do it 
 for your wages. And * in singleness of heart' 
 means simply, really, truly. You must 
 really wish, and try yourself, to help your 
 employers, and save them work, and do them 
 service. This must be your own aim and 
 business ; and you must seek to do it in every 
 way that you can. You see this is explained 
 in the next verse. ' Not with eye-service, as 
 men-pleasers ;' that is, you are not to be try- 
 ing only to make them pleased and satisfied, 
 and only doing well just when their eyes are 
 upon you ; but you are really to want to be 
 useful to them, because that is what God re- 
 quires of you in your station ; * as the ser- 
 vants of Christ, doing the will of God from 
 he heart.' " 
 
65 
 
 Joe and Bob. 
 
 '*I should like to tell our Joe of that," 
 said Ann. 
 
 " Who is our Joe ?" 
 
 '* One of the coloured boys at Mrs. Mars- 
 den's. He is a lazy fellow enough. He ma- 
 nages to leave his work till the last minute; 
 because he knows that some one will have to 
 do it for him then. Almost every day he 
 plays till near dinner time, and then the knives 
 are not cleaned ; and Dick, or Jack, or 
 Bridget, or I must help him, or they would 
 not be ready for dinner. Instead of wanting 
 to serve, he tries to get rid of all the work he 
 can.'- 
 
 " I have known many a one to do such 
 tricks as that," said Jane ; ** and I have known 
 more who would leave their work for the 
 sake of a little pleasure. 
 
 *' Last summer Mrs. Raymond kept a cow. 
 She had a hired boy, Bob, who was to take the 
 cow to pasture, and bring her home in the 
 afternoon, time enough to have her milked 
 and to set the table for tea. But, night after 
 night, when all was ready, the family would 
 have to wait hours after the proper time, be- 
 cause there was no milk, for the cow had 
 not got home. Bob started for her about five 
 o'clock ; but he would not be seen at the 
 house again till nearly eight. It was ten 
 hiinutes walk to the pasture : the rest of the 
 lime must have been spent in play or mis- 
 f2 
 
66 
 
 .The talking cook. 
 
 chief. This was not serving Mrs. Raymond 
 * in singleness of heart, as unto Christ.' 
 
 *' How many there are too, who, without 
 really wishing to get rid of work, and with- 
 out being led away by any pleasure, still neg- 
 lect their duty, and are useless and good for 
 nothing, just because they let themselves 
 have idle habits. We had a cook who would 
 stand by the stove for ten minutes at a time, 
 or would wipe a plate over and over again 
 when it was clean and dry enough ; or would 
 fairly sit down in the middle of her work, 
 and talk away, with her hands before her, as if 
 there was nothing to do. And when an ac- 
 quaintance came in, she would leave what- 
 ever she was about, and talk with them an 
 hour, or as long as they chose to stay. Then, 
 when dinner time came, all was hurry and 
 bustle ; and nothing was done properly, un- 
 less Mrs. Raymond went down and helped 
 her about the cooking herself. 
 
 '* Both these girls were turned away in 
 disgrace. And I am sure neither of them 
 could have been really trying to mind and 
 serve their employers, * doing the will of God 
 from the heart.' To do this we must be ac- 
 tive, steady, and industrious." 
 
 Jane took up the Bible to go on reading, 
 but her eye rested again on the words, " not 
 with eye-service, as men-pleasers." 
 
 *' Not with eye-service, as men-pleas- 
 
67 
 
 Eye-service described. 
 
 ers," said she ; " how many that line does 
 condemn. I believe that more than half 
 the girls who go to service seek only to 
 please their employers ; and so long as they 
 are satisfied, care nothing whether the work 
 is well done or not." 
 
 *' O !" cried Ann, " I forgot to tell you 
 that we have got a chambermaid in that other 
 place now. Her name is Sally; and you 
 put me in mind of her by what you were 
 saying. Yesterday morning she got her 
 rooms all dusted and in order before I had 
 done sweeping mine. I wanted to see how 
 she had done it so quick ; for I had been as 
 busy as ever I could be. So I went in to 
 look at them ; and I soon found out. Under 
 the bureaus, and in the corners of the room, 
 and in the closets, she had never touched her 
 broom ; and only the tops and front of the 
 things were dusted. The rounds of the 
 chairs, and the feet of the tables, had never 
 been touched. When I showed them to her 
 she said, ' Pshaw ! never mind ! the part that 
 is seen looks nice ; and Mrs. Marsden will 
 never notice the rest. She will praise me for 
 being so smart and active, you see if she does 
 not. And if she is satisfied, what need I care 
 about the rest V " 
 
 "Yes," said Jane, " Sally is one that does 
 .service * as men-pleasers,' not ' as unto Christ.' 
 L*ut I was thinking more of * eye-servants ;' 
 
68 
 
 Idle James. 
 
 those who do well when their employers can 
 jsee them, but waste time and misbehave 
 when they are left to themselves. The boy 
 who lives here now does that shamefully. 
 
 *' The other day, Mrs. Raymond looked 
 out of the window, and there was James 
 playing about in the street; while the pile 
 of wood he had been sent to get in, lay where 
 it had been put an hour before. In throwing 
 his ball, he happened to look up, and saw 
 Mrs. Raymond's eye fixed on him ; and then, 
 in a minute, he was busy at the wood ; but 
 as soon as she went away, he began to play 
 again. If he does not get cured of this 
 ' eye-service,' she will not be able to keep 
 him ; for no person can be all the time look- 
 ing after her servants." 
 
 " Let us go on," said Ann, " to the next 
 verse. ' With good-will doing service, as to 
 the Lord, and not to men.' " 
 
 Jane turned over to another place, and 
 read, 
 
 *' And whatsoever ye do, do it heartily, as 
 to the Lord, and not unto men." Col. iii. 23. 
 
 *' That is a little plainer," said she ; " they 
 both mean that you should do service cheer- 
 fully and willingly." 
 
 " But suppose the worli\s hard and dis- 
 agreeable ?" said Ann. . ^ 
 
 *' Then," answered Jane, '^you can leave 
 the place ; but so long as you' choose to sta^ 
 
69 
 
 Idleness makes hard work. 
 
 in it, it is your duty to be cheerful, and ready 
 to do what is to be done. ' God orders you 
 to do so ; and he must be obeyed. Nothing 
 is more disagreeable than a sulky, grum- 
 bling way oj^ doing service. That was an- 
 other fault of^Ahat idle cook I told you iabout. 
 .Her work wWd be tell crowded together 
 near dinner time, and then she would set to 
 it, complaining all the time, and moaning over 
 her hard lot, and blaming Mrs. Raymond ; 
 declaring that she slaved her girls to death, 
 and that she ought to give twice as much 
 v^^ages for her hard work ; and all that. Yet 
 lor all her complaints, she never left the 
 place till she was sent away. 
 
 ." The truth is, very few girls know what 
 God has bid them do ; and when they are 
 idle, and slight their work, and grumble over 
 it, they little think they are breaking the com- 
 mands of the great God. It is a blessing to 
 you, Ann, that you can be taught." 
 
 "Yes," said Ann, "for see what this 
 verse says about those who serve their em- 
 ployers * as unto the Lord, and not to men.' 
 * Whatsoever good thing any man doeth, the 
 same he shall receive of the Lord, whether 
 he be bond or free.* " 
 
 • " And there," said Jane, pointing to an- 
 other verse, " ' Knowing that of the Lord ye 
 shall receive the reward of the inheritance ; 
 for ye serve the Lord Christ. But he that 
 
70 
 
 Rules about service. 
 
 doeth wrong, shall receive for the wron^ 
 which he hath done, and there is no respect 
 of persons.' Col. iii. 24, 25. You see that 
 God wiil reward those who do good service 
 for the sake of pleasing him; and he will 
 punish those who do wrong." 
 
 " So," said Ann, " God will bless me, and 
 reward me in heaven, for doing his will; 
 even if it does not seem to help me here be- 
 low." 
 
 " Yes," said Jane ; " and if you mind these 
 rules of God, it will be an advantage to you 
 even here, for your employers will like you, 
 and you will get a good character, and that is 
 a treasure. But this is enough for to-night ; 
 almost too much." 
 
 "Write it down though, aunt Jane," said 
 Ann, handing out the note-book. Jane 
 wrote : 
 
 RULES ABOUT SERVICE. 
 
 1. To try really and truly to mind, help, 
 and serve my employers, as much as ever 
 I can ; because it is the will of God that I 
 should do so. 
 
 2. What I do, do well; and do as well when 
 I am not watched as when I am. 
 
 3. Work cheerfully and willingly ; and be 
 content with my wages. 
 
71 
 
 The new cook. 
 
 CHAPTER V. ^ 
 
 Cleanliness. 
 
 ** ! aunt Jane," said Ann, the next time 
 she saw her, ** do you know Sally has been 
 turned away already. She went on slighting 
 her work more and more every day, because 
 Mrs. Marsden did not find fault about it. At 
 last, Miss Lydia took notice of it, and per- 
 suaded her mother to tell Sally she did not 
 suit her, and she might leave when her month 
 was out. Sally said she would rather go at 
 once. So Mrs. Marsden agreed to it, and 
 Bridget took Sally's place ; and we have got 
 a new cook." 
 
 *' Indeed !" said .Tane , ** what kind of girl 
 is she ? How do you like her so far ?" 
 
 *' I am very much puzzled about her," an- 
 swered Ann. ** She seems to wish to serve 
 faithfully, and to do all her work well ; yet she 
 somehow does not get along pleasantly. I do 
 not believe she will stay long." 
 
 " Why, what is the matter ?" 
 
 *' I cannot quite make out ; but I tliink she 
 is too self-willed, and wants to do every thing 
 in her own way." 
 
72 
 
 How to please. 
 
 *' O ! she does not mind this rule," said 
 Jane, opening the Bible, and reading : *' * To 
 please them well in all things.' "'Titus ii. 8. 
 
 "But, aunt," said Ann, "we are, not to 
 serve as men-pleasers. You would not have 
 her to do like Sally." 
 
 " No, no," answered Jane ; " she should 
 try to do all her work properly ; but she 
 should choose that manner which is most 
 agreeable to the mistress of the house. I 
 know that girls, who can cook well, are very 
 apt to think their own plans the best, and to 
 insist upon doing things as they have been 
 used to seeing them done ; but that is wrong. 
 
 *' A woman once came here, who had been 
 recommended as a professed cook. The first 
 dinner she sent on table was very fine, but 
 there was no gravy. Mrs. Raymond thought 
 it had been omitted, and sent the waiter for it. 
 He came back saying there was none. No 
 more was said till after dinner, when Mrs. 
 Raymond asked the cook how it was they 
 had no gravy with their meat. ' Gravy !' 
 said she, 'why, you do not have gravy, 
 ma'am, do you ? In the genteel families 
 where I have lived, I have made none for some 
 time.' — ' Perhaps so,' said Mrs. Raymond, 
 ' but we like it, and wish it made.' After she 
 had gone up, the girl said it was all wrong; 
 and she had a great mind to say she would 
 not do it. 
 
73 
 
 The self-willed cook. 
 
 '' Next morning some cold mutton was 
 hashed for breakfast. The girl put onions in 
 it. None of it was eaten. The cook was 
 vexed, and asked Mrs. Raymond if the hash 
 was not good. *It may be very good,' an- 
 swered Mrs. Raymond, ' biit all our family 
 have a dislike to onions. We cannot eat any 
 thing that has them in it.' 
 
 '* There was poultry that day for dinner. 
 Mrs. Raymond was called away unexpectedly 
 before they came. I saw the cook chopping 
 up onions for the stuffing ; I asked her if she 
 was going to put onions in the ducks. * To 
 be sure,' said she. — * Why,' said I, * if you 
 do, they will come down as the hash did this 
 morning. I heard Mrs. Raymond tell you 
 that none of the family could eat them.' — ' I 
 cannot help that,' said she ; ' a pretty thing, in- 
 deed, it would be, for a first-rate cook to stuff 
 ducks without onions !' It turned out just 
 as I said. The family had to dine on some 
 thing else, and the cook was soon dismissed, 
 
 '' Different people like their food prepared 
 and brought to table in very different ways. 
 There are hardly any two families that have 
 the same notions about every thing of this 
 sort. Now the cook ought to seek ' to please' 
 her employer in all she does." 
 
 *'Well!" said Ann, ''that is nothing to 
 me, for I am not a cook." 
 
 " But it is just the same case with house- 
 G 
 
74 
 
 Suiting employers. 
 
 work," saidJane. " How does Mrs. Marsden 
 like the covers to be put on her beds ?" 
 
 *' Why, spread straight up to the top, to be 
 sure." 
 S- *» Not * to be sure' at all !" replied Jane ; 
 ' ^* for Mrs. Raymond likes her's turned over be- 
 low the bolster. So it is your duty to spread 
 them up when you make beds for Mrs. 
 Marsden ; and it is mine to turn them over, 
 when I make beds for Mrs. Raymond. What 
 does Mrs. Marsden tell you about the win- 
 dow-shutters ?" 
 
 ** O !" said Ann, "she has them kept shut 
 close, so that her rooms are nearly dark all the 
 time." 
 
 " And when I go up-stairs," said Jane, 
 *' Mrs. Raymond calls after me, * Jane, throw 
 open all the windows, and let in the fresh 
 air.' So you see ladies have different waya 
 I about their houses ; and we ought to find out 
 ^hat these are, and to seek ' to please them 
 well in all things.' " 
 
 " Well, what is the next rule ?" interrupted 
 Ann. 
 
 " Not so fast," said Jane ; " we have not 
 done with this yet. If we are to please our 
 employers well in all things, besides doing 
 as they like, we must be as they like." 
 
 *' How ? pleasant-tempered do you mean V 
 
 ** Yes, and clean and tidy. If a girl goes 
 about the house with an old torn frock, with 
 
75 
 
 Sluttish ways. 
 
 holes in her stockings, and her shoes down 
 at the heels ; with hair all flying about her 
 face ; and leaving the marks of her fingers 
 on the doors, shutters, and every thing she 
 touches. Can her appearance ' please ' the,^, 
 lady of the house ? So far from it, a slat- . 
 ternly, dirty person is one of the most disa- 
 greeable things that can be met with. I will 
 read you what is said about this in this lit- 
 tle book Mrs. Raymond gave me the other day. 
 I read it, because I cannot bear to talk about 
 such things, and yet I am sure you ought to be 
 told of them." 
 
 Jane reads :— 
 
 " Your clothes* must be clean, not a clean 
 apron only over a dirty sluttish gown. Have 
 you never seen a girl, who to meet looks clean, 
 but if she turns, you see a gown all spotted 
 with grease ? How does she look as she goes 
 out of the room, — does she look clean ? 
 
 *' Perhaps, she comes in from a back door 
 without wiping her feet, and leaves the mark 
 of every footstep on the floor or carpet ; and 
 not only this want of cleanliness, but sloven- 
 liness in all her dress ; — she has run against 
 a nail or key, and torn her gown sleeve ; — 
 she lets it be so ; — she has torn her gown at 
 the pocket-hole with the lock of the door, 
 and it remains slit down almost as low as the 
 knee ; perhaps she has run against something, 
 and torn her gown skirt behind, and it is 
 
76 
 
 Bodily cleanliness. 
 
 pinned up, or she has torn out the tuck, and 
 it hangs down in one part lower than another ! 
 Be careful, then, not to show these untidy- 
 tricks ; no holes in stockings, no ragged pet- 
 ticoat bottoms, no dirty strings, no fine dirty 
 ribands. Mind that your aprons are not 
 tumbled like a dirty pocket-handkerchief, but 
 clean and smooth. 
 
 " Bodily cleanliness is absolutely necessa- 
 ry. Your hair brushed, and clean and neat, 
 and worn in a tidy way. Let it be neatly 
 done up, not straggling over your eyes, nor 
 from behind your ears. 
 
 " Remember your hands ; keep them quite 
 clean. 
 
 ** And as to the feet. These are not to be 
 seen ; but I beg you will pay particular atten- 
 tion to their cleanliness. Wash them often ; 
 and even this will be of little service, unless 
 your stockings are kept nice and clean too. 
 
 " There was a very clean and useful servant 
 whom I once knew. She went from place to 
 place, and was never settled. I was in- 
 terested about her, and therefore paid some 
 little attention to her circumstances. When- 
 ever she left her place, I inquired her charac- 
 ter. It was always good, very good. Why 
 then do you part with her ? The answer 
 was always. Yes, she is a very good servant, 
 I like her very much, she endeavours to do 
 her duty, but still there is something about 
 
77 
 
 The secret fault. 
 
 her not agreeable. I concluded it was some 
 rudeness of manner, and often inquired. No, 
 she is always civil and obliging. It was a * 
 kind of mystery ; and when, after seven years' 
 service, she left her seventh place, I thought 
 it so hard a case that I would try her myself. 
 I did so ; but soon the secret was discovered ; 
 she would not keep her feet and body clean. 
 Whenever she came near, you could perceive 
 that however clean she appeared, she was 
 not clean herself. I thought much what I 
 must do. She was an honest, diligent, good- 
 creature ; did all her work well ; and yet I 
 must send her away from me. I determined 
 at last to tell her, which I did. She was at 
 first mortified and distressed. At last she 
 shed tears, and said, ' She never could account 
 for it why all her mistresses had sent her 
 away, and yet always spoke well of her 
 character, as if they were satisfied with her. 
 ' Indeed,' she said, ' 1 have always desired to 
 please, and it was my earnest desire to keep my 
 place. What shall I do ! will you too send me 
 away ? Cannot I do any thing to remove it ?' 
 
 " ' Yes, I think you can ; but then you must 
 be regular and attentive to do it. Wash your- 
 self frequently and thoroughly in hot water, 
 from head to foot 
 
 " If ever she neglected this rule, I could per- 
 ceive it in a day or two ; but when I reminded 
 i er of it, she would wash herself thoroughly, 
 o 2 
 
78 
 
 Servants' rooms. 
 
 and then she was as agreeable a servant, in all 
 respects, as I could wish. And she stayed with 
 me, a faithful, and good, and valuable servant, 
 till she went to take care of her old father. 
 
 " Take notice of this account, for I as- 
 sure you it is not every mistress who will tell 
 you ; they do not like to speak of such 
 things, nor should /, but from a sense of 
 kindness to you. They will dismiss you, 
 and never give you a reason. You will be 
 discouraged, never suspecting the real cause, 
 and think it hard you cannot please ; be then 
 mindful of what I call bodily cleanliness* 
 
 " And another thing," continued Jane. 
 ** Girls should keep every place they have 
 charge of nice. Why should the servant's 
 room be littered and uncomfortable, when all 
 the other rooms are put in order ? The 
 chambermaid should keep her room clean 
 too. And the cook should manage so as to 
 have as few dirty things about as may be. 
 Is it not enough to make a lady angry, when 
 she comes into her kitchen, to find the floor 
 greasy, and the tables and hearth covered 
 with dishes, and pots, and kettles?" 
 
 "To be sure," said Ann ; '* I see that if I 
 want to * please,' I must be clean and neat." 
 
 *' There is another thing," added Jane ; 
 " the girl who would please her employers 
 * well in all things,' must be quiet and order 
 ly too." 
 
79 
 
 Quietness and good order. 
 
 " O !" cried Ann, shrugging up her shoul- 
 ders ; ''I found that out to my sorrow the 
 other evening. I never saw Mrs. Marsden 
 "eally offended till then. ' Bridget, and Sally, 
 and I had been trying, one day, which could 
 get done her work first. So we all got through 
 quite early, and in the evening we were 
 sitting round the kitchen table and sewing. 
 You know what a merry girl Bridget is, and 
 how funny she can be. Well, she was tell- 
 ing us about the farm where she had been 
 living, tind the queer folks, and all that ; and 
 we were so much amused, we never thought 
 how loud we were talking and laughing. 
 Just then, the parlour bell rang. As usual, 
 Joe was not to be found, and I had to go up- 
 stairs. But how surprised I was, when I got 
 into the parlour, to find that the noise below 
 had sounded up through the floor. And 
 there sat two ladies and a gentleman, and 
 Mrs. Marsden talking to them, and looking 
 all the time so vexed and ashamed ! She 
 could not leave them then, for all the young 
 ladies were out ; but as she asked me to bring 
 up water, she gave me such a look ! And, 
 as soon as her company was gone, she came 
 down-stairs, and such a trimming as she gave 
 us !" . 
 
 " And you deserved it," said Jane ; 
 " never forget again that you must be quiet 
 and peaceable in the kitchen, because you 
 
80 
 
 Quiet woi'k — Little kindnesses. 
 
 are to please your employers in the least as 
 well as in the greater things. Be quiet, too, 
 when you are working about the house. Do 
 not make a slamming and banging with doors 
 and shutters. Do not rattle the crockery, nor 
 raise more dust than you need when sweep- 
 ing. Make every thing as pleasant as you 
 can to those who are in the house with you. I 
 well remember the remark I heard a gentleman 
 make once in Mrs. Raymond's parlour :— ^' I 
 am very sorry,' said he, ' that Grace will not 
 stay at our boarding-house ; she keeps'all our 
 rooms in such nice order, and yet she is 
 never to be seen or heard when we are at 
 home. She goes about like a quail among 
 the bushes.' I cannot tell you how many 
 presents that girl got from different persons 
 in that house. It showed that it * pleased 
 them well in all things.' 
 
 " Yes," said Jane ; ** and besides doing 
 the work as the family like it, and being 
 cle?n and agreeable, try to oblige and 
 * please' them whenever, you can. For in- 
 stan^^e, if some of the ladies come into the 
 kitchen to iron, you might save them the heat 
 and trouble of taking up irons from the fire. 
 So you might save something hot for any one 
 of th'* family that is not at home in season 
 for dinner or tea. There are a hundred such 
 little things a girl may do, if she really 
 y^'yh^s to please and accommodate. Be on 
 
81 
 
 Useful rules. 
 
 the look-out for such opportunities, and im- 
 prove them ; and you will find that your em- 
 ployers will grow fond of you." 
 
 When Ann carried her note-book home, 
 these sentences were in it : — 
 
 RULES OF CONDUCT. 
 
 1. To try to please my employers well in 
 all things. 
 
 2. To find out their ways, and how they 
 like things done ; and do them so. 
 
 3. To be pleasant in my ways ; clean and 
 neat in my person ; and quiet and orderly at 
 all times ; and to keep all places neat and tidy 
 of which I have the care. 
 
 4. To look out for opportunities of pleasing 
 my employers, by doing little services for them. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Obedience and Respect. 
 
 Much as Ann loved to see her aunt, there 
 was no pleasant smile on her face when 
 they next met. She sat silently by the 
 nursery fire, and was so unlike herself, that 
 Jane was quite alarmed. 
 
82 
 
 Ann is near losing her place. 
 
 *' Why, Ann," said she, " what is the 
 matter ? Has any thing happened to you ?" 
 
 *' O ! nothing, only" — 
 
 "Only what?" 
 
 "Only, perhaps, I may be turned away 
 to-morrow." 
 
 " Turned away from your place ! so soon ! 
 Why, what have you done ?" 
 
 " No harm," answered Ann ; " but Miss 
 Lydia and I have had some hard words. 
 Mrs. Marsden is out of town, and Miss 
 Lydia is mistress for a while ; and she is so 
 proud and disagreeable that there is no bear- 
 ing it. She does not know how to treat 
 hired girls. She never asks us civilly to do 
 any thing. It is ' Cook, do this !' — and ' Ann, 
 run and bring that !' — and » Bridget, why is 
 not this room swept yet ? Did I not order it 
 done ? Leave what you are about, and go to 
 it instantly.' And so, the other day, I just 
 spoke, and said, ' Miss Marsden, I try to serve 
 you faithfully, and 1 shall always be happy 
 to please you, but I like to be asked de- 
 cently. I do not think it my duty to do all 
 at your bidding.' Then she flew into a 
 rage, and cried, 
 
 " * Yes, it is — it is your duty ; I am mistress 
 of the house ; and the mistress has a right 
 to order and command as she pleases ; and 
 the servants must obey, and shall obey.' 
 
 "I said, 'No,' and she said, 'les,'and 
 
83 
 
 Servants not slaves. 
 
 SO we quarrelled ; and she declared she 
 would write to her mother, that very even- 
 ing, for leave to turn me away. I am very 
 sorry, but" — 
 
 " This is a sad business," interrupted 
 Jane. " You have done wrong, and displeased 
 your employers, and are likely to lose your 
 place ; and you will get a bad character ; 
 and"— 
 
 ** Well," said Ann, ** I am very sorry, 
 indeed ; but what can be done now ?" 
 
 *' Why, unless you are willing to be turned 
 off, and take all the consequences, you must 
 go at once to Miss Lydia, and tell her you 
 were wrong, and you are sorry you spoke 
 so, and hope she will excuse you this time." 
 
 *' But I do not think I was wrong," said 
 Ann ; ** I do not think it is the duty of a hired 
 girl to obey a lady always, and to do every 
 thing she chooses to command. Servants 
 are not slaves." 
 
 *' No, we are not slaves !" answered Jane, 
 ** for a slave cannot help herself: however 
 hard or cruel her master may be, she must 
 stay, and do as he commands. A servant is 
 at liberty to leave, whenever her place does 
 not suit her. This is the difference. But 
 80 long as any girl chooses to stay in a 
 family, she must obey the master and mis- 
 tress of that family. The Bible says so. 
 Servants, be obedient to them that are your 
 
84 
 
 Obedience explained. 
 
 masters, with fear and trembling.' Eph. vi. 5. 
 And here : * Exhort servants to be obedient 
 unto their masters.' Titus ii. 9. 'Servants, 
 be subject to your masters, with all fear.' 
 1 Peter ii. 18. 
 
 '' Oh, well !" said Ann ; *' but that means — 
 it means — I mean — it does not mean that 
 we must do every thing they bid, and' just 
 when they bid, and the very way they bid." 
 
 " Yes, it does," said Jane, " it means all 
 that. ' Servants, obey in all things your 
 masters.' Col. iii. 22. ' Obey' fs the word. 
 It is the very same word that is used in an- 
 other place about children, * Children, obey 
 your parents.' So you see God has given the 
 master and mistress of every house command 
 over the children and servants of that house ; 
 and you must obey your employer as chil- 
 dren obey their parents." 
 
 Ann, sat silent a while. 
 
 "I own I was rather quick with my 
 tongue," said Ann; ''but I thought Miss 
 Lydia did not know how things were in this 
 part of the country, and I would just tell her 
 at once ; that was why I spoke up so." 
 
 '' May be as you say," said Jane ; " but it 
 is not becoming in servants to be teaching 
 and rebuking the lady of the house. But I 
 will not speak to you any more about that 
 now ; I have something new to read you from 
 ihe Bible, but another time will do. You had 
 
85 
 
 Ann wisely confesses her fault. 
 
 better go home, and confess your fault to 
 Miss Lydia, and ask her pardon. Come to 
 me again as soon as you can, and tell me 
 about it." 
 
 Ann did not come to Mrs. Raymond's till 
 the next Sunday ; nor could Jane be spared 
 in the mean while to go to see her niece. So 
 when she entered the nursery, the first ques- 
 tion was, 
 
 " Well, Ann, how did you get along ?" 
 
 *' ! it was rather hard for my pride to 
 come down so ; but I thought a good deal 
 about it alone, and prayed God to help me ; 
 and after I had said what I had to say to 
 Miss Lydia, she forgave me at once, and 
 even added that she had not spoken properly 
 herself; for though householders have a right 
 to command their domestics, it would be 
 much more proper and pleasant to ask them 
 civilly. So we are quite good friends again. 
 But, aunt, what were you going to tell me 
 before you sent me away last week ?" 
 
 '' I was going to show you this," answered 
 Jane, opening her Bible. *'*Let as many 
 servants as are under the yoke, count their 
 own masters worthy of all honour' (1 Tim. 
 vi, 1) ; and this, ' not ai:iswering again.' " 
 Titus ii. 9. 
 
 '' AVhat !" cried Ann, ** must not I answer 
 back again when I am scolded and blamed?" 
 
 '* No," said Jane ; "when your employers 
 H 
 
86 
 
 Bridget's notions about equality. 
 
 find fault with you, if you deserve it, take it 
 without saying any thing ; and even if you 
 do not deserve it, it is better to wait till after- 
 wards, and then quietly tell the truth of the 
 matter. At any rate, you must not say or do 
 any thing that will not be treating them with 
 * all honour,' with perfect respect. You 
 must not speak and act to them as you would 
 to your fellow servants or acquaintances." 
 
 *'SoI thought," said Ann; *' but Bridget 
 tells me that is only your old country notions ! 
 In America one is as good as another. We 
 are all free and equal." 
 
 " And so we are," said Jane ; " but God 
 has ordered that the master and mistress of 
 every house shall be obeyed and honoured by 
 their children and servants." 
 
 ** Well, I am sure I do not wish to be 
 disrespectful," said Ann ; **but I may be so 
 often, without meaning it; for I really do 
 not know what kind of behaviour is dis- 
 respectful, nor what is treating them * with 
 honour.' " 
 
 ** That is the worst of it," said Jane ; *' and 
 people think so differently about this, it 
 makes it quite hard to tell how to do. In the 
 country places they will talk over the news 
 with their servants, and make companions of 
 them, in a way which ladies here in the city 
 will not put up with at all. So that I cannot 
 give you any rules that will suit every wliere ; 
 
87 
 
 The impertinent servant. 
 
 but I can tell you of some girls, whose man- 
 ners Mrs. Raymond did not lilie at all ; and I 
 suppose Mrs. Marsden, and most others of 
 the same kind, would be of the same way of 
 thinking. 
 
 " There was one of my name. It was Jane. 
 She was an American girl, and had never before 
 lived in town. She always called all the fa- 
 mily by their first names, without any miss or 
 ma'am. One day the boy was out, and she 
 had to wait at table. Instead of standing, she 
 sat down on a chair, and listened to what was 
 said, trying often to put in some remark of 
 her own. « My dear,' said Mr. Raymond to 
 his wife, 'the weather is growing too warm 
 for cloth clothes ; what kind had I better get 
 for summer?' — * How do -you like French 
 bombazine ?' said Mrs. Raymond. * Bomba- 
 zine V said her husband ; ' what is French 
 bombazine V — ' That black worsted, sir, like 
 the gown I had on last Saturday,' said the 
 servant. Now many persons might see no 
 harm in her taking a part in the conversa- 
 tion ; but Mr. and Mrs. Raymond did not 
 like it at all. They thought it very forward 
 nd disrespectful. Indeed, Mrs. Raymond 
 will not allow her girls to talk familiarly with 
 her about any thing, or to bring her the news 
 of the town, or what is said about the neigh- 
 bours. I would not presume to do it, though 
 I have lived with her so long ; for neither 
 
88 
 
 Lucy's impudence. 
 
 she nor I would consider that treating her 
 ' with all honour.' 
 
 '' Then there was Lucy too. I cannot tell 
 you how much she offended Miss Simmons 
 by speaking when she should have been silent. 
 Lucy had the care of the parlour fires. One 
 of them had been left too long without coal, and 
 was very low. Miss Simmons raked and 
 poked it a good deal, and then rang the bell. It 
 was some time before Lucy came up, and the 
 fire was nearly out. As soon as she saw it, 
 she exclaimed, in a grumbling voice, 'I won- 
 der who has been poking at the fire. I wish 
 people would let things alone ! I should just 
 like to know who raked this out!" 
 
 " * I did,' said Miss Simmons. 
 
 " * Well,' said Lucy, ' it would be much 
 better to ring the bell, and have things done 
 properly, than to make double work for me.' 
 There would have been more words between 
 them, but Mrs. Raymond cut the matter 
 short by calmly ordering Lucy to sweep up 
 the hearth, and leave the room. Now I 
 knew this girl well. She was really a good 
 creature ; and she told me, afterwards, that 
 she never meant to be impertinent to Miss 
 Simmons ; yet she got the character of a 
 very impudent girl, because she behaved just 
 in the same way to her employer as she did 
 to her companions, and spoke out whatever 
 came into her mind. Some girls will go on 
 
89 
 
 BackDiting. 
 
 talking, or singing, when the mistress of the 
 house comes into the kitchen, or when they 
 are at work, without taking any notice of 
 her ; they just keep on, chattering and sing- 
 ing, as if no one was in the room but them- 
 selves. This is not treating them with ho- 
 nour. 
 
 " On the whole, the best advice I can give 
 you about it is, to keep yourself quiet before 
 your employers, and really try to treat them 
 with respect. If you do so, I do not believe 
 you will often offend in this point. 
 
 " But it is not only when the people of the 
 house are present, that you are to honour 
 them. No, Ann, let me never see you guilty 
 of the meanness of speaking well of them to 
 their face, and then making fun of them, or 
 talking against them, behind their backs. 
 And now I think of it, you certainly spoke 
 disrespectfully of Miss Lydia to me the other 
 night." 
 
 " Why," said Ann, '* may not a girl tell 
 laer mind about the people she lives with, 
 when they are all out of hearing ?" 
 
 " If she is asked what kind of a place she 
 has, she may answer truly," said Jane ; " but 
 even then, she should try to speak as well of 
 them as she can. God's rule is to be kept 
 •always. * Count your own master worthy 
 of all honour.' " 1 Tim. vi. 1. 
 
 " Then, I suppose," said Ann, " the cook 
 h3 
 
90 
 
 Scene at Betsey Green's wedding. 
 
 who tried to set me against Mrs. Sinclair, 
 was breaking this command ?" 
 
 *' Yes," said Jane ; '' and so were some ac- 
 quaintances of mine at Betsey Green's wed- 
 ding the other evening. We were sitting all 
 so dull on our side of the room, I thought I 
 would just step over and ask what the laugh 
 was about in the other corner. 
 
 " * !' said Abby, ' Catharine here asked 
 me about the people I live with, and I was 
 telling her. There is an old gentleman, a 
 lady, and their son, with his bride. I have 
 heard say it was a quick '^match, and I am 
 sure, anyhow, the old folks and the young 
 wife do not agree very well. They are ac- 
 tive, bustling, little bodies, and she is a fine 
 lady, that does not know how to do any thing. 
 And then the husband and the mother are 
 both so passionate ! I never knew such tem- 
 pers •! It is really funny to see the doings 
 we have. Yesterday, the bride wanted a 
 cape done up in time for a party in the even- 
 ing. The girls were all too busy, and she 
 did not know how to do it herself; but she 
 had set her heart upon wearing it. So the 
 old lady told her she would do it for her. 
 And she put it in water, and boiled the 
 starch, and was getting the blue water ready, 
 when the old man came along. 
 
 " ' What are you about there?' said he. 
 
 '' ' O ! working for John's lady-wife.' 
 
91 
 
 Scene at old Mr. Belson's. 
 
 " ' You shall not do any such thing. I will 
 have no idle hands about me. If she does 
 not know how to do her own work, the sooner 
 she learns the better. Here, Bill,' said he, 
 ' take these things to Mrs. John Belson, and 
 tell her, there is nothing like trying.' 
 
 ''When old Mr. Belson had made up his 
 mind, it is of no use to say a word. Mrs. 
 John Belson had to put her little white hands 
 into the water, and finish washing the cape 
 herself. 
 
 " Presently the mother-in-law came out, to 
 see how she was doing it. Will you believe 
 it ? — she had mixed a great basin full of blue 
 water, and thrown in a few spoonfuls of thick 
 starch, which floated about in it like ducks in 
 a mill-pond. The old woman just put up 
 both hands, and laughed out loud. 
 
 " Mrs. John Belson looked round, and 
 cried out like a child, 
 
 '' ' What have I done now ?' And when 
 old Mrs. Belson pointed to the basin, and 
 said, ' Well, I should think any baby might 
 know better than that,' she sat down and 
 cried, and said she wished she was among 
 her own friends again, where she would be 
 helped, and not laughed at. And just then 
 her husband came in ; and she ran up to him, 
 and told him how she had been treated ; and 
 he flew into a great passion, and said he had 
 not brought her there to be insulted ; and then 
 
92 
 
 Sin of backbiting. 
 
 the old woman got angry too, and they had 
 such times ! Look here — I can do exactly like 
 she did ;' and with that Abby began to chat- 
 ter and mumble away, in a little squeaking 
 voice, shaking her chin about, and every now 
 and then giving her head a little nod, like old 
 Mrs. Belson, as she said, till she set all the 
 room in a roar of laughter. And then the 
 others got into the spirit of it, and began to 
 make a laugh of their employers. 
 
 " As I stood by, I thought to myself. Oh, 
 girls, girls ! how little you know that you are 
 displeasing God all the time, by breaking his 
 commandment ! How far you are now from 
 treating your ' own masters' and mistresses 
 with ' all honour.' " 
 
 Ann and Jane sat in silence for several 
 moments after this story. At last Ann said, 
 
 *' Aunt Jane, you sent me away the last 
 time in such a hurry, that I got no more in 
 my little book." 
 
 Jane took it, and soon returned it to her 
 with the following : — 
 
 RULES OF CONDUCT CONTINUED, 
 
 1. Remember to obey and honoier the mas 
 ter and mistress of the house. 
 
 2. So long as I stay with them, I am 
 to do what they tell me, and when they telk 
 me ; and that whether they speak kindly r 
 not. 
 
93 
 
 Duties of my station reviewed. 
 
 3. I am not to answer back when they find 
 fault. 
 
 4. I am not to join in their conversation, 
 nor talk familiarly with them about the news 
 of the town and the gossip of the neighbour- 
 hood. 
 
 5. I am to leave off talking and singing 
 when they come where I am. 
 
 6. I am not to speak disrespectfully of 
 them, or make sport of them when out of their 
 hearing. 
 
 '' Then," said Ann, looking over the 
 pages, " the duties of my station, so far as 
 you have taught them to me, are 
 
 " To serve faithfully ; 
 
 " To please my employers ; 
 
 ** To obey them ; 
 
 ** And to honour them." 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Making friends of employers. 
 
 *' Aunt," said Ann, a few days after, " you 
 always speak of Mrs. Raymond as if she* was 
 your friend, or the same to you that you are 
 to me. I am sure she must be very different 
 
94 
 
 Jane's first going to Mrs. Raymonrl's. 
 
 from Mrs. Marsden. It is only now and 
 then that we see her or the young ladies ; 
 and when they do come among us, they only 
 look to see how things are going on, and tell 
 us to do something, and then they go away. 
 How came there to be such acquaintance and 
 kind feeling between you and Mrs. Ray- 
 mond?" 
 
 *' AVell," answered Jane, ^' I will just tell 
 you how she treated me from the first. I was 
 twelve years old, you know, when I went 
 to her, and I Avas an orphan like you. The 
 uncle and aunt who had taken care of me, 
 thought they had done as much as they could 
 afford to do for me when they paid my pas- 
 sage over. As soon as we arrived in Ame- 
 rica, they began to look for a good place to 
 put me out at service ; and by the blessing 
 of Providence, they got me bound to Mrs. 
 Raymond. 
 
 ** It was a cold rainy afternoon when my 
 uncle led me to her door. She came into the 
 entry, and took me kindly by the hand, and 
 helped me off with my. wet clothes, and told 
 me to sit down by the kitchen fire. After 
 tea, she brought me a book ; and when she 
 saw that I read very slowly, spelling many 
 of tbe words, she said, 'If you stay with me, 
 and will be good and attentive, I will teacn 
 you to read so easily, that it will be a plea- 
 sure to you.' 
 
95 
 
 Mrs. Raymond's treatment of Jane. 
 
 " This, hoAvever, was the least of all her 
 goodness to me. From the time I entered 
 lier house, she watched my ways and noticed 
 my disposition, and always tried to speak 
 and act to me in the manner most likely to 
 make me do well. I was not a bright child ; 
 I was very slow and long about my work. 
 Mrs. Raymond wished to make me quick and 
 smart ; and she told me so. But she did not 
 speak loud and sharp to me, or bustle and 
 hurry me from one thing to another. She 
 told me of one piece of work at a time, and 
 bade me do it as quick as possible ; and the 
 instant that was done, she set me about some- 
 thing else. In this manner she got me into 
 the way of doing much in a little time ; and 
 all without worrying me, or trying my tem- 
 per. 
 
 " Besides being a dull child, I was apt to be 
 sullen ; and when I was very much provoked, 
 1 grew saucy. This Mrs. Raymond took in 
 hand at once. She let me know that I must 
 mind her and respect her; that she was not 
 afraid of my ill temper on her own account; 
 and yet she tried, as much as possible, to 
 avoid provoking me. If she had fault to 
 find, she told me of it at the time when she 
 thought it would be most likely to do me 
 good, and never in anger. 
 
 *' For instance, I was cleaning the grate in 
 a cold room; and in my hurry to get out, I 
 
 I 
 
96 
 
 The cut-glass pitcher. 
 
 did ray work badly. Mrs. Raymond called 
 me back, showed me the grate, and gently 
 told me to rub it again. I was vexed, and 
 scarcely touched it; and Mrs. Raymond had 
 to call me back to it three times, before it 
 looked as it ought to look. The third time 
 I was in a passion ; and as I went quick by 
 the table, I brushed off an elegant cut-glass 
 pitcher, and broke it all to pieces. Mrs. Ray- 
 mond looked at the pieces and at me, and 
 quietly ordered me to take up the broken glass. 
 Next morning she called me to her, and told 
 me that if I lived with her, I must obey her 
 promptly, and do her work properly ; and 
 that she could not keep me unless I kept 
 my bad temper under better control. She 
 then reminded me of the mischief I had done 
 in my passion ; let me know how much the 
 pitcher had cost, and asked me if I was ready 
 to pay for it. I burst into tears, for I had no 
 money, and could get none. * I know you 
 have none,' she said, ' and therefore the 
 only way in which I could be paid for the 
 loss would be by keeping what I was about 
 to spend for warm winter clothing for you. 
 But,' added she, after a pause, ' I will not do 
 so this time. I will buy the clothing for 
 you, and excuse you, if you promise to be 
 more gentle and more careful hereafter. My 
 wish is to cure you of your faults ; and that 
 much more for your own sake, than for mine.' 
 
97 
 
 Effect of kindness on Jane. 
 
 *' I could not help believing her. It did me 
 much more good than if she had scolded me 
 when the accident happened. And when I 
 saw that she really washed me well, I began 
 to love her very much, and to look up to her 
 as a kind of second mother. And well I 
 might ; for she took great interest in my re- 
 ligious feelings, and sent me to church and 
 to Sunday-school ; and taught me the lessons 
 herself, and prayed for me often." 
 
 " But then," interrupted Ann, '* you were a 
 child, and bound to her. It is different when 
 a grown girl like me goes to service." 
 
 '' It is different, I know," answered Jane ; 
 ** but not so very different, after all. Mrs. 
 Raymond used to take the same pains to find 
 out the dispositions of her grown girls ; and 
 speak and act towards them in the manner 
 most likely to make them do well ; to cure 
 their faults, and put them in the way of get- 
 ting good. Yes, and I have known her 
 teach them too. And she always showed an 
 interest in them; and was ready to help 
 them, and to tell them what clothes to buy, 
 and where to buy them cheap and good, and 
 all such things. So that if she was a mother 
 to me, she was a kind friend to them." 
 
 ** Well," said Ann, " I wish Mrs. Mars- 
 den would take pattern by her ; but that is not 
 my business. AH I can do towards making 
 I 
 
 ■ 
 
98 
 
 The list of books. 
 
 a friend of my employer is, to act as you 
 have done : and how was that, aunt?" 
 
 " I would not have you act just as I have 
 acted," answered Jane; *'for when I first 
 went to service, I was proud and foolish, and 
 thought it noble to take my own way always, 
 and not ask advice of any one. 
 
 ** I remember, that soon after I began going 
 to Sunday-school, my teacher gave me a print- 
 ed list of the names of the books in the Sun- 
 day-school library ; and told me to put a pen- 
 cil mark by those 1 would like to read ; and she 
 would get them for me. I did not know what 
 they were about, and never asked any one, but 
 just marked any. But one evening Mrs. 
 Raymond picked up my list, and asked me 
 what it was ; and when I told her, she offered 
 to mark proper books for me ; and I thanked 
 her, and she did so; and after that I always 
 had such as I understood and liked ; and 
 I trust, under God, they did me good loo. I 
 have always since asked Mrs. Raymond 
 about my reading and schools. 
 
 *'One summer there were many visiters 
 came to our house, and they gave me money. 1 
 kept it till I had several dollars ; andl was glad 
 to think it was all my own, and I woukl do as I 
 liked with it ! So, one day, I set off to buy 
 myj^elf a new frock. It was a bright, showy 
 calico ; and when I brought it home, I spread 
 it out on the window seat. Mrs. Raymond 
 
99 
 
 The new frock. 
 
 saw it. When she heard that it was mine, 
 and that I had spent all my money for it, she 
 said, * It is bright ; but it would have been bet- 
 ter for you to have spoken to me before you 
 went out to spend your money. I should 
 have told you that you had frocks enough al- 
 ready ; and reminded you of something you 
 wanted more. Or if you were determined to 
 get a frock, I could have told you what 
 would wash well, and how much it ought 
 to cost ; and, indeed, I could have got it 
 for you, at a much lower price, at the shop 
 where I get my own calicoes. These co- 
 lours will all fade as soon as they are put 
 in water. You have given a very high 
 price ; and besides, all your money is gone, 
 and how are you going to get facing and 
 cording, and to pay for making up the dress V 
 " I did not know what to say ; and should 
 not have known what to do, if Mrs. Raymond 
 had not kindly given me the necessary trim- 
 mings, and cut out the gown for me herself. 
 But the very first time I wore it, I was caught 
 in a shower, got my frock all covered with 
 mud, had to wash it, and sure enough, my 
 new calico was ruined. I made up my mind, 
 then, always to ask Mrs. Raymond about 
 what I should buy ; and many a dollar have 
 I saved by doing so. And it was just so 
 about where I should visit, and about what 
 company I should keep ; and, in short, in 
 every thing I took her advice. 
 
100 
 
 Foolish pride to be subdued. 
 
 " These thirty long years she has been my 
 chief friend and counsellor ; and it is a great 
 advantage to me. 
 
 "And now I want you, Ann, to speak to 
 Mrs. Marsden, and get her to direct you ; for 
 none of your acquaintances can do it so well 
 as your employers." 
 
 " Well, I do not know that !" said Ann ; 
 *' I think you can advise me quite as well." 
 
 '' No, I cannot," said Jane ; ''for Mrs. 
 Raymond and Mrs. Marsden are in the way to 
 know more than we do ; and they are altogether 
 wiser and better able to judge. It would be 
 foolish pride, indeed, to be ashamed to ask 
 advice of those who are fit to give it ! Espe- 
 cially about going to Sunday-school, or to the 
 Bible-class, or to church, a Christian mistress 
 can help us very much. When I was in 
 trouble about my soul and what would become 
 of me after I was dead, I told all my difficulties 
 to Mrs. Raymond ; and I believe, that is, 
 under God, one reason why I can hope that 
 I am now a cheerful though unworthy fol- 
 lower of Jesus Christ." 
 
101 
 
 Ann discor tented. 
 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 The evils of changing places. 
 
 ** Well, aunt," said Ann, a few days after, 
 •' I have made up my mind to leave Mrs. 
 Marsden's, if you have no objection. You 
 must have noticed that I have been growing 
 discontented for some time past; and there 
 can be no harm in trying another place. It 
 may suit me better, and if it does not, I can 
 change again." 
 
 '' But why should you leave the one you 
 are in?" 
 
 '* O ! for a good many reasons ! Bridget 
 will have to go before long, and she wants 
 me to quit at the same time, and try to get 
 into the same family with her." 
 
 " Which it is not at all likely you could 
 do a second time," said Jane. " But why will 
 Bridget have to leave before long ?" 
 
 '* O ! she and Miss Lydia do not agree at 
 all. Indeed, I do think Bridget does wrong. 
 She talks back so to Miss Lydia, and dis- 
 obeys her, and slights the work ; and when 
 I ask her if she is not ashamed, she says, 
 < Not at all ! if the young lady chooses to be 
 iross and ugly, I will be the same ; I would 
 i2 
 
102 
 
 Bri'lgel's error exposed. 
 
 not do so 10 a person that behaved properly 
 towards me ; but my rule is, to take people 
 as I find them.' " 
 
 *' Bridget is wrong there, certainly," said 
 Jane. " She does not remember that we 
 have a Master in heaven ; and that we must 
 obey the rule she has given us, and do the du- 
 ties of our station, whether the mistress of the 
 house does those of her station or not. To 
 keep us from mistaking about this question, 
 God has put this verse in the Bible, * Servants, 
 be subject to your masters, with all fear ; not 
 only to the good and gentle, but also to the 
 froward.^ " 
 
 *' That settles it," said Ann. " As long then 
 as a girl stays with any person, she must 
 behave as well as she can ; and if her em- 
 ployer is disagreeable, the only help for it is 
 to leave her ; and that is just what I want to 
 do now." 
 
 *'Is Mrs. Marsden disagreeable?" 
 
 ** No, not at all. She is a good kind lady. 
 But ever since she came home, she has been 
 sick, and has kept her room ; Miss Lydia is 
 really mistress of the house ; and she is so 
 hard to please that no girl can live with her. 
 Come, aunt, say I had better go." 
 
 ** But I do not like to have you get into a 
 way of changing about so, Ann ; for I have al- 
 ways found, that the best and happiest servants 
 are those who stay many years in the same 
 
103 
 
 Some trouble in every place. 
 
 place, while those who go every few months 
 from house to house are good for nothing, 
 and always have poor characters." 
 
 '' ! but," said Ann, '' it must be dull to 
 live always in the same family ! I want to 
 see a little of the world." 
 
 '' Why is it more dull for a girl to stay in 
 one family, than for a daughter or a wife to 
 live always at home ? Yet we do not find 
 wives and daughters changing about. As for 
 seeing the world, I am sure I know enough 
 about it, and how people do, though I have 
 been all my life at Mrs. Raymond's. And 
 have you not seen a good deal in the short 
 time you have been at Mrs. Marsden's ? You 
 will find out more than you like about other 
 people, without moving from place to place 
 to notice them." 
 
 " But 1 often feel discontented and lonely 
 without any particular reason ; and then 1 
 think I should be happier if I were in some 
 other place." 
 
 " Did you not have the same kind of feel- 
 ings when you lived at home ?" 
 
 **Yes." 
 
 " I know you did without your answering. 
 Every body on earth feels them ; and de- 
 pend upon it, you would not get rid of 
 them by going into another place. Soon 
 vou will be wishing yourself back again ; 
 changing to cure that feeling is of no use. 
 
104 
 
 Nothing gained by changing. 
 
 Wherever you are, you will feel low-spi- 
 rited and dissatisfied sometimes. I know, 
 when I was young, I often used to get thes* 
 turns, and would have left Mrs. Raymond, 
 but I was not allowed to do it ; and now I 
 am very glad." 
 
 '* Why," said Ann, "what harm does it 
 do to change about ? You might have done 
 quite as well perhaps." 
 
 " That is not at all likely," said Jane ; " as 
 you must know, it is very hard to find a real- 
 ly good place, and girls who do not stay 
 long anywhere get a bad name. But that is 
 not the worst of it. They grow weary and 
 unsteady by being always among strangers, 
 and never stay in any one place long enough 
 to make friends of their employers. Now I 
 love Mrs. Raymond dearly, and she loves 
 me, and would do as much for me, if I was 
 sick, or wanted help, as any mother could. 
 Are you not growing fond of any one at Mrs. 
 Marsden's ?" 
 
 " Yes, I like them all except Miss Lydia ; 
 and I think the family have a friendly feeling 
 towards me too. The other day, as I was 
 putting a closet to rights, the door was open, 
 and I heard Mrs. Marsden say to Miss Ame- 
 lia, « I hope Ann will not leave us if Bridget 
 does, for I feel quite interested for her, and 
 would be sorry to lose sight of her;' and 
 Miss Amelia answered, ' Yes, and she has 
 
105 
 
 Advantages of keeping one place. 
 
 got into our ways now, and knows just where 
 to find every thing, and how we like it.' " 
 
 " Yes, that is another thing," interrupted 
 Jane ; '* a girl who has been a while in a 
 place, can really serve and please better there 
 than she could anywhere else, for the very rea- 
 sons Miss Amelia spoke of; you can be abet- 
 ter servant in your old place than in anew one. 
 
 " Besides," added Jane, *' now that you 
 have been some time in the house, your opi- 
 nion and your advice will be more thought 
 of by your fellow servants, and they will be 
 more apt to mind you, than if you were a 
 new comer ; so that you will have more 
 power to do good by staying in one place." 
 
 " But, aunt," said Ann, *' you do not know 
 how much I havfe to put up with. Mrs. 
 Marsden's boys are so rude and careless! 
 Yesterday, when I had swept down the 
 house, they began to make a ship, up in the 
 third story ; and they cut chips all over the 
 house, besides dirtying the clean stairs 
 with footmarks. And when I asked master 
 George, if he would please to cut his blocks 
 in the yard, he told me to mind my own bu- 
 siness. And then, besides, when I was 
 down on my knees, scrubbing the entry, all 
 of a sudden, there came a great bang and 
 weight on my back, that pushed me down 
 flat. Master Francis had seen me, and com- 
 ing quietly down stairs, he tried to jump over 
 
106 
 
 The choice of evils. 
 
 me, and fell. I complained to his father, and 
 he punished him ; and that has set all the 
 rest against me, and they abuse me, and give 
 me trouble on purpose. Then, too, Sally, 
 the cook, grows more and more cross ; Brid- 
 get says she will give notice to-morrow to go, 
 if I will." 
 
 " Well," said Jane, " you will find some- 
 thing disagreeable in every place. You must 
 consider which is, on the whole, best; to 
 stay where you are, and bear the evils pa- 
 tiently, or to go, and get perhaps a worse 
 place ; to leave the house where you know 
 all the places and all their ways, lose the 
 chance of making real friends of your mis- 
 tress and her family, and get a bad character, 
 as a girl who never stays anywhere long; 
 you must lose, too, the power of doing good 
 to your fellow servants by your opinion and 
 advice, and the power" — 
 
 *' Stop, stop I" cried Ann, " I am sure that 
 is enough. I will think about it." 
 
 " And pray, too, that God will make you 
 see which is right for you to do." 
 
 ^' Well, I will," said Ann ; " and now let us 
 talk about something else." 
 
 It was about this time, that a poor young 
 woman, Lucy Fry, was at Mrs. Marsden's, 
 sewing. She was not a regular seamstress, 
 but was trying to get her living by her nee- 
 dle. She was taken sick there. Mrs. Mars 
 
107 
 
 The cross cook. 
 
 den was very kind to her ; and as soon as she 
 got well enough to work, kept her as child's 
 nurse, and gave her an entire new suit of 
 clothes, to begin with. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Conduct towards fellow-servants. 
 
 " You will think I am always grumbling," 
 said Ann, when she next took her seat in 
 Jane's nursery ; '* but we have got such a 
 disagreeable cook now, that there is really no 
 living with her. She is very respectful and 
 obedient to Mrs. Marsden, and does every 
 thing well, and keeps all clean ; but when 
 she is alone with us, I cannot tell you how 
 cross- she is ! Let any person make dirt or 
 litter about her kitchen, and see what she will 
 do ! The other morning, as I was carrying 
 coals from her fire to kindle up-stairs, I hap- 
 pened to scatter a little ashes on the floor. 
 
 ** * There now, you — ,' cried she, and she 
 all but boxed my ears. Bridget used some- 
 times, when she was holding the baby, to 
 come and sit down-stairs with the rest of us ; 
 but the first time she tried it, after this 
 
108 
 
 The most comfortable way. 
 
 woman came, she just looked up at her, and 
 said, — 
 
 ** ' Have you not got a nursery up-stairs V 
 
 '' ' Yes,' said Bridget. 
 
 "'Then I will have no nurse-maids and 
 children here. Your room is better than your 
 company. I do not wish to see you except 
 at meal-times.' 
 
 " As for the boys, she makes them fly, I 
 can tell you. And she never thinks of doing 
 any one a good turn. If she gets her part of 
 the washing finished first, she will not touch 
 a piece of mine, though I should have the 
 tubs about all day. She is certainly the most 
 disobliging person I ever met with, and I told 
 her so." 
 
 '' You told her so ?" said Jane. '' That 
 was not the way to cure her. Remember 
 the Bible bids us return ' good for evil, bless- 
 ing for cursing.' But I do not wonder you 
 find it disagreeable to live with such a 
 woman. And you see now how much ser- 
 vants can do to make their fellow-servants 
 happy or unhappy." 
 
 " I know that," said Ann ; " it is a great 
 deal the most comfortable way, all round, for 
 girls to be obliging, and help each other along 
 with the work ; and those that are not so 
 are very disagreeable, and will not have many 
 friends." 
 
 *' True," said Jane ; '* and they displease 
 
UK) 
 
 Good rule for comfort. 
 
 God too ; for they break his commands : 
 'Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself, 
 and, * Whatsoever things ye would that men 
 should do unto you, do ye even so to them.' " 
 ' '* Ah !" said Ann, " if I always remember- 
 ed to do so, how much comfort and happi- 
 ness I should give to my companions ; and 
 how much they would love me. But when 
 I get vexed, I often say and do what I am 
 sorry for afterwards." 
 
 " But ' afterwards^ is too late," answered 
 Jane ; " you must watch your temper, Ann, 
 and pray for God's help to conquer it as soon 
 as it rises. And you must not let yourself 
 be vexed about little things ; there is no 
 knowing what it may grow to. When I was 
 a young girl, one ironing day, I remember I 
 said something sharp to our chambermaid: 
 I was in fun, but she took it ill, and gave me 
 a sharp answer, and I gave her a sharper re- 
 ply ; and words followed words, till she caught 
 up a hot iron, and chased me all around 
 the kitchen with it. I do not know whether 
 she would have struck me or not, for my* 
 screams brought Mrs. Raymond down, arf 
 she put a stop to the quarrel. Check the" 
 very first feelings of anger ; and try to act as 
 kindly as possible to those who affront youJ 
 Read the thirteenth chapter of the first epis- 
 tle to the Corinthians ; that will show yau 
 how you should feel and do." 
 K 
 
110 
 
 Bad rule which works only one way. 
 
 ** But what worries me t?ie most about our 
 cook," said Ann, ** is the way she treats 
 those boys. She really does not seem to 
 think they have any rights or any feelings." 
 
 *' I can easily believe that," said Jane ; 
 *' for I remember, when I was a little servant 
 girl myself, how badly I was treated by the 
 elder one ; or rather how badly I should have 
 been treated, if Mrs. Raymond had not pro- 
 tected me. Yes, the very women who are 
 not willing to be ordered by their mistresses, 
 and who scarcely treat them respectfully, 
 will give their orders to those beneath thein 
 in the kitchen ; and will complain of impu- 
 dence, if they speak at all familiarly to them. 
 Yes, and what is more, they will act really 
 unjustly and cruelly towards them. Now 
 what can be expected in such a case, but 
 that the child should be ruined in temper and 
 every thing else ? 
 
 *' Poor Alice !" continued Jane, after a 
 thoughtful pause ; ** dear Alice !" and she 
 brushed away a tear : — " we played together 
 all the long passage over from Ireland. She 
 was just my age, eleven or twelve ; and a gen- 
 tle, well-meaning child, though ignorant like 
 myself, and not very firm and steady in good 
 ways. Soon after we got to this country, 
 her father went off to work on the canals, 
 and was never heard of more. The mother, 
 to drown her sorrow, took to drinking ; and 
 
Ill 
 
 Distressing scene. 
 
 this, together with the change of climate 
 brought on ill health, which ended in her 
 sudden death. One of those kind ladies 
 who go from house to house, finding out the 
 wants of the poor, and trying to relieve 
 them went down into their cellar, to see 
 where the sound of crying came from ; and 
 going down, she found Alice alone with her 
 mother's lifeless body. After hearing her 
 story, she opened a trunk that was there ; and 
 finding letters of recommendation from the 
 priest of their parish, and having made in- 
 quiries about them among the neighbours, 
 she had the body attended to, and took the 
 child home with her. She kept her long 
 enough to feel pretty sure that she was honest 
 and of a good disposition ; and then she got 
 her a place in the family of one of her ac- 
 quaintances. About the same time, I went 
 to service myself. You know how I was 
 treated, and you know the rest of my history ; 
 but poor Alice's story is very diflferent. Be- 
 fore the kind lady took her to Mrs. Gale's, 
 she had talked to her about her duty, and how 
 all her happiness in life depended upon her 
 conduct and her character ; and she had made 
 her promise to do right. Alice knew and 
 thought little about God, or her duty to him ; 
 but she was determined to be good and to be- 
 have well. And she thought it would be 
 easy to do so. For the few first days, all 
 
112 
 
 Alice at Mrs. Gale's. 
 
 went very well ; and Mrs. Gale praised her 
 for her activity and good conduct. But by 
 degrees the lady took less and less notice of 
 her; and before long, Alice Ibund that her 
 greatest industry and best efforts to please 
 were passed without any commendation. 
 The mistress left her to herself, and expected 
 her to do bright, without any directions from 
 her. Nor did her fellow-servants help her. 
 Sometimes one or the other of them would 
 undertake to make her do right, and would 
 scold at her, or order her sharply about, till 
 she got out of all patience. Sometimes they ' 
 would let her take her own way. Sometimes 
 they quarrelled ; then each of them flattered 
 and coaxed Alice, to get her on her side 
 Sometimes they romped with her, and treated 
 her as a playfellow, or a plaything ; some- 
 times they called her hard names ; and of 
 course this led to a good many disputes ; and 
 poor Alice got quite out of favour. Every 
 thing that was wrong was laid to her. If 
 there were foot or finger marks on the floors 
 and walls, it was ' that dirty Alice.' If any 
 thing was broken, it was * that careless Alice.' 
 If there was any noise in the kitchen, it was 
 ' that romping Alice.' If there was any dis- 
 pute, it was ' that quarrelling Alice.' So said 
 the cook and so said the chambermaid, and 
 that was two to one ; and as Mrs. Gale was 
 a fashionable woman, and had more to do 
 
113 
 
 Alice's folly. 
 
 with visiting and receiving company, than with 
 taking care of her family, she thought very 
 little about who was right or who was wrong. 
 Alice's word was not generally taken ; and 
 she was often most severely treated and pun- 
 ished, when she was not at all in fault. 
 
 " From such training as this, what could be 
 expected ? O ! how I sometimes want to 
 ask mothers, whose own sons and daughters, 
 with all the teaching, and the books, and 
 watchfulness, and the prayers bestowed upon 
 them, can hardly be brought to walk in 
 the path in which they should go — O ! how I 
 do want to ask such mothers, what must 
 probably be the fate of children who are 
 thrown, without care or direction, into the 
 midst of wicked influences and examples ? 
 
 Poor Alice ! As she saw little or no mo- 
 tive for doing well, she grew idle and care- 
 less about her work. As no one loved her, 
 or encouraged her to love them, she grew 
 cold-hearted and selfish. As she was un- 
 kindly treated, and scolded at all the time, 
 she grew fretful, sulky, and saucy. As she 
 was unjustly oppressed by the older servants, 
 and as she found it of little use to complain 
 to Mrs. Gale, she took her cause into her 
 own hands, and by all kinds of cunning and 
 deceit, tried to defend herself, and better her 
 condition. 
 
 *' Yet Alice knew that all this was wrong; 
 k2 
 
114 
 
 Alice neglected. 
 
 and there were times when she remembered 
 her promise to the kind lady, and determined 
 to be good again ; but she did so in her own 
 strength, and after a day or two, she would 
 give out, and become worse than ever. If 
 indeed she had knelt to her heavenly Father, 
 and told him all her troubles, and asked 
 him to help her, no doubt he would have heard 
 her. If she had been sorry because she had 
 ginned against him, and asked him to pardon 
 her for Christ's sake, and to make her good, 
 and help her to do right, no doubt, even in her 
 circumstances, all would have been well with 
 her. 
 
 *' But no one told her of this ; no one spoke 
 4o her of God ; no one * cared for her soul.' 
 At last Alice was turned away as a bad child ; 
 and in the next place she went to, she fared 
 still worse, for there she learned to lie and 
 to steal. She soon left it ; and so she went 
 on, growing more and more wicked, and 
 getting into places less and less respectable, 
 till at last I lost sight of her for a long time. 
 We must both have been about eighteen, 
 when, one day, as I was looking for a poor 
 woman in a distant street, I passed the door 
 of an oyster cellar, and happened to look down, 
 and at the table, standing among drunken men, 
 I saw Alice. Yes ; it was Alice ! She was 
 much grown, and her slovenly dress altered 
 her a good deal ; but I could not be mistaken. 
 
115 
 
 Without thinking, I stood still, and 1 believe 
 I should have called out her name ; but at 
 that moment, she looked up, and our eyes 
 met. She started, hung down her head, 
 and turned away, pretending not to have 
 seen me. I dared not speak, or go into 
 such a place, and I passed on. I have often 
 since tried to find her out ; but I never knew 
 what became of her, and suppose I never 
 shall until the day of judgment. How many 
 such instances will that day make know^n ! 
 I am glad I am not the mistress or the fellow 
 servant who will have to meet Alice there, 
 and to account for the share they had in 
 making her such a miserable creature. If 
 Alice had been put in my place, she might 
 have been what I am now; and if I had been 
 put in her's, I am nearly certain I should have 
 been now as she is, or worse. And what, under 
 God, has made the difference between us ?" 
 
 There was a long silence. 
 
 **Aunt," said Ann, "I think grown girls 
 too can be made better or worse by their 
 companions. And I think that it is not only 
 the cross and disagreeable ones that do harm ; 
 for there is Bridget — no one can be more 
 pleasant ; yet, if I do not take great care, she 
 will be an injury to me." 
 
 '* How so ?" asked Jane. 
 
 a Why, for one thing, I am afraid she will 
 make me proud by praising and flattering me. 
 
116 
 
 Duty of religious servants. 
 
 Then too she puts notions into my head 
 about my rights, and what is and what is 
 not my work ; and she tells me not to do such 
 and such things, for other girls do not." 
 
 *' That is what 1 call the very way to 
 spoil a girl," said Jane. " Bridget is a dan- 
 gerous companion then. You must be on 
 your guard, and pray, so as not to be in- 
 fluenced by her ; and mind never to do like 
 her yourself to any fellow-servant. 
 
 *' But, Ann, there is another way in which 
 you can do harm, as Bridget could not." 
 
 " What, I in particular ?" 
 
 ** Yes, you and all who profess to be re- 
 ligious. If you do not feel, and speak, and 
 act always as a Christian ought to do, your 
 fellow servants will notice it, and will think 
 it is of no use to be religious, and that will 
 keep them from ever becoming so. Would 
 not that be a dreadful injury to them ?" 
 
 "Dreadful indeed!" cried Ann. *' I will 
 try, with God's help, never to injure those 
 who are with me in any such way." 
 
 " But that is not enough," said Jane ; 
 ''you must try to give them all the comfort 
 and to do them all the good in your power. 
 The younger ones, especially, you should 
 befriend, as I said before. You can read a 
 little yourself, Ann. Can you not find time 
 to teach Joe or Bill, so that they may be able 
 to study the Bible ? Can you not read tha* 
 
117 
 
 How servants can benefit each other. 
 
 book, or other good books, to Bridget and 
 the cook in the evenings ? There is one 
 thing you certainly can do, with the help of 
 God. You may be always so well behaved 
 and so kind, that all who know you will 
 think well of religion, and will perhaps seek 
 to have it themselves. This is what the 
 Bible means when it bids you to do well, that 
 * you may adorn the doctrine of God our 
 Saviour in all things.' " 
 
 When Ann went away, she found the fol- 
 lowing sentences had been written in her 
 note-book : — 
 
 RULES FOR CONDUCT TOWARDS FELLOW 
 SERVANTS. 
 
 1. To be careful not to do harm to my 
 fellow servants. 
 
 2. Not to be disobliging or ill-natured. 
 
 3. To conquer the first feelings of anger 
 and ill temper. 
 
 4. Not to make others proud by praising 
 and flattering them ; and not to put notions 
 into their heads about their rights, and what is 
 their own work and what is not ; and what 
 other girls do in other places, and what they 
 do not. 
 
 5. As a professor of religion, I am not to 
 set them against it by my ill behaviour and 
 inconsistent conduct. 
 
 6. To give them all the comfort, and do 
 them all the good I can. 
 
118 
 
 Bridget's way of doing things 
 
 7. To mind these rules particularly in mj 
 conduct towards children at service. For by 
 my kind care and friendship, I may lead 
 them to be useful and respectable in their 
 station; by my neglect and bad example, I 
 may spoil their characters and all their hap- 
 piness, and ruin their lives. 
 
 After Ann had shut the door, she opened 
 it again, and putting in her head, said, " I do 
 not think I shall stay much longer at Mrs. 
 Marsden's, if she keeps that cook." 
 
119 
 
 Bridfiet's advenUire. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Groing out in the evenings — Br^^aking the Sabbath — 
 Deceit — Intemperance. 
 
 *' Oh ! what a horrid hole in my stocking! 
 Do mend it for me, Ann," cried Bridget, as 
 she stood with her cloak and bonnet on. 
 
 " What ! going out this evening too," said 
 Ann, looking up in surprise ; " did Mrs. 
 Marsden give you leave, for you ought not 
 to go without ? She pays for your time, and 
 you have no right to spend it in visiting 
 without asking her." 
 
 '* Oh, to be sure ! so, if you please, sew up 
 
120 
 
 Ann's evening employments. 
 
 the hole, while you have your thread and 
 needle out." 
 
 " How could you get such big holes in 
 your stockings ?" exclaimed Ann, as she be- 
 gan to mend it. 
 
 " Why, first there were thin places, and 1 
 meant to run them, but 1 had not time ; then 
 they went into little holes, and I could not 
 find time to mend them ; so then I wore them 
 all into rags, as you see. This is the best 
 pair I have got." 
 
 " But I have plenty of time to mend all my 
 clothes," answered Ann, "and to learn my 
 Bible-class lesson too, every week ; and that 
 you do not have to do." 
 
 '* O yes," said Bridget, '* you sit toasting 
 yourself here all these long evenings while 
 I am out enjoying myself." 
 
 In a few moments the hole was sewed up, 
 and Bridget went off. 
 
 Ann sat down to her writing. She had 
 asked Miss Amelia to set her some copies, 
 and by trying in her leisure evenings to 
 make letters just like them, she had learned to 
 handle a pen quite well. 
 
 About ten o'clock, she was startled by a 
 loud knocking at the front door. She opened 
 it. Bridget rushed in, shut the door instant- 
 ly after her, and locked and bolted it. 
 
 " What is the matter ?" exclaimed Ann ; 
 for Bridget was pale and trembling, her 
 
121 
 
 Bridget's adventure. 
 
 i 
 
 dress was covered with mud, and very badly 
 torn. 
 
 *' This is the worst of going out evenings," 
 cried she, as she threw herself into a chair. 
 "01 have got such a fright ! And just look 
 here, Ann ! I did this in going. I stepped into 
 a great puddle that I thought was a paving- 
 stone, and my new calico is all stained with 
 mud and water, and will have to be washed ; 
 and how I tore this I do not exactly know, 
 but I suppose I caught it by some railing. I 
 have spoiled my clothes more this one night, 
 than if I had worn them a fortnight." 
 
 " Well, I am sorry for you," said Ann, 
 " and I hope you will stay at home with me 
 in the evenings now. Mrs. Marsden does 
 not like your going out so much. I heard 
 Miss Lydia say so ; and if you do not leave 
 it off, you will lose your place." 
 
 ** I do not care for that," muttered Brid- 
 get. 
 
 *k Why, yes," said Ann, " you know how 
 bad it is to be changing places. I told you 
 what aunt Jane said." 
 
 The next day was Sunday. The cook 
 stayed at home in the morning, and both the 
 other girls went out. 
 
 , *' Come with me, Ann," said Bridget ; " I 
 am sure you must get tired of that one 
 preacher you go to hear every Sunday. The 
 new church in **** street is to be opened to- 
 L 
 
122 
 
 The slei^h-ride. 
 
 day, and there will be great doings there ; 
 line music, and I do not know what all." 
 
 ** Well, for once I will go there,'* an- 
 swered Ann. 
 
 On their way Bridget stopped at a door 
 in ****^' street. 
 
 " This is the house where I was visiting 
 last night. They told me of the sights at 
 the new church ; and I promised to call for 
 them. Just step in with me. 
 
 *' Why, how is this ?" added she, as she 
 opened the door, and saw the women sitting 
 quietly around the fire ; *' ihe church bell is 
 ringing, and you have not begun to get ready." 
 
 ** No, we have got a better plan for to-day," 
 said one of the women ; ** sit down, and I 
 will tell you. James Leery came in just 
 after you left, last night, Bridget ; and he 
 said that he, and two or three others, had 
 agreed to give us a sleigh-ride while this 
 fine snow is on the ground. The sleighs are 
 to be here pretty soon, and you are to go 
 along ; and if your friend there will stay, I 
 dare say we can make room for her too." 
 
 The two girls looked at each other. 
 
 ** Now, Ann!" said Bridget; '* you are 
 thinking I ought not to do it ; but I do not 
 see any harm in it, for we work hard week- 
 days, and Sundays are our only day, and are 
 given us to take a little pleasure in." 
 
 ** 1 am not so sure of that," answered 
 
12.*? 
 
 The nev7 church. 
 
 xVnn. *' But whether it is so or not, I had 
 rather go to church ; I must be oiF, for the 
 bells have done ringing." 
 
 *' Then you must go alone," said Bridget. 
 ^* Good-by." 
 
 So they parted. 
 
 Ann made her way through the crowd into 
 the new church, and got a seat. But she 
 was so taken up with looking at the fine 
 building, and hearing the fine organ, and 
 seeing the fine people, that when prayers 
 were offered, she did not pray ; when God's 
 praises were sung, she did not join in them 
 with her heart ; and when the sermon was 
 preached, she hardly heard a word of it ; and 
 when the service was all over, Ann felt that 
 she had not been worshiping God, and had 
 got no good ; and her heart was heavy. 
 
 As she was crossing a street, some one 
 touched her on the shoulder. It was Jane 
 Dugan. 
 
 *' Where have you been to-day?" asked 
 Jane. ** You were not where I usually see 
 you." 
 
 " No," answered Ann ; " I have been at 
 the opening of the new church in **** street ; 
 and itideed a beautiful place it is, and the 
 music was equal to any thing I ever heard." 
 
 *'And do you go to church for the sake 
 of seeing pretty things, and hearing pleasant 
 sounds ?" 
 
124 
 
 Uses of the Sabbath. 
 
 Ann was silent. 
 
 " Why does God stop all kinds of busi- 
 ness, and take us off* from our work on Sun- 
 day, by bidding us * do no work' on that 
 day ? What was this for ?" 
 
 Still Ann was silent. 
 
 " I will tell you. In six days we get so 
 taken up with other things, that we forget or 
 think little of God, and of the great truths 
 that we must soon die and go to heaven or 
 hell. So, every seventh day, God makes us 
 stop ; and gives us a whole day to think of 
 his goodness, and thank him for it ; to re- 
 collect our sins, and confess them to him, 
 and ask forgiveness, for Christ's sake ; to see 
 whether we are ready to die, and if not, to 
 make ourselves ready ; to find out our faults, 
 and try to cure them. This is what Sunday is 
 for. Thus we are to keep the Sabbath holy ; 
 to do such things, and go to such places, as 
 will bring God, Christ, and eternity to our 
 minds, and will help us to grow better. We 
 must not * seek our own pleasure on God's 
 holy day ;' the Bible says so." 
 
 '' But what has all this to do with gomg to 
 a strange church ?" said Ann. 
 
 " A great deal," answered Jane. '* If you go 
 from church to church just to see what is to 
 be seen, that is seeking your own pleasure, 
 and it is wrong ; and if you really want to gel 
 the most good, as you should, you had better 
 
125 
 
 Advantages of going to one church. 
 
 seat yourself every Sunday in the same place 
 of worship." 
 
 "I know," said Ann, *' if I did, J should 
 get used to the place and the people, and should 
 not want to look about so much; and perhaps 
 I should pray better, and listen better, than 
 in a strange place." 
 
 " Yes," said Jane ; *' and you would get used 
 to the minister's voice and way of preaching ; 
 and you would be able to understand him bet- 
 ter than any other one. And besides the 
 ministers and the members of the church 
 would think of you as belonging to them, and 
 would take an interest in you, and you in 
 them ; and you would have a chance of join- 
 ing in their plans of doing good. It is much 
 the best way to feel as if you belonged some- 
 where. I would advise you to take one seat, if 
 you can, and go to it every Sabbath ; or, at 
 any rate, to sit always in the same church." 
 
 Here, Ann turned down another street, so 
 they bid each other good-by. 
 
 Ann had been home nearly an hour, when 
 Bridget arrived. She was in high glee, and 
 rattled away to Ann about what a merry .time 
 she had ; but it was only the beginning of 
 trouble to her, for it soon became very plain 
 that she was getting into a bad way. Almost 
 every Sabbath, she joined her acquaintances 
 in some party of pleasure ; or walked about 
 the streets to see and to be seen. When she 
 2i 
 
126 
 
 Silent lies. 
 
 was at home, she had visiters ; so that she no 
 longer had any spirit about her work, but 
 drudged through it as a task ; and often 
 slighted it to get done the sooner. She 
 knew well enough that such doings would not 
 please Mrs. Marsden and the young ladies. 
 So she began to deceive them about their 
 work. Often she would slip out quietly, and 
 as soon as she got back, put her bonnet and 
 cloak out of sight, that no one might know 
 she had been away. Often she would smooth 
 up her beds, and put the pillows on them, 
 that they might look as if they had been 
 made, when she had not shaken them up at all. 
 One day, she swept the dirt of one room to 
 the door of another, that Miss Lydia might 
 think that she had swept both rooms. 
 
 ''If she asked you whether that room was 
 done, you would not say it was — would you ?" 
 asked Ann. 
 
 " No ! to be sure ! that would be a lie 1 
 I am no liar !" 
 
 " Well ! but what is the difference if you 
 make her think so by putting that pile of 
 dirt there ? It seems to me all the same as 
 if you made her think so by speaking." 
 
 Bridget laughed, and Ann made no more 
 remarks ; but the next time she saw Jane Du- 
 gan, she told her what had passed. 
 
 *' You were quite right," said her aunt. 
 ** Whenever you make any one believe what 
 
127 
 
 Nature of deceit. 
 
 is not true, you are lying ; and it is all the 
 same whether you do it by speaking, or by 
 silence, or by actions. To be true and ho- 
 rjest, you must let your employers know 
 every thing just as it really is. If you try 
 to blind them in any way, that will be lying, 
 as I said. And, oh ! Ann, it is a dreadful 
 thing to be a liar ; the Bible says in just so 
 many words : * All liars shall have their part 
 in the lake which burneth with fire and 
 brimstone.' And besides, lying is mean and 
 contemptible, and they who tell lies get into 
 a world of trouble, even in this life ; for they 
 are almost sure to be found out in the end, 
 and then they are not believed any more, 
 even when they speak the truth." 
 
 *' But," said Ann, *' if blinding or deceiv- 
 ing people in any way is lying, I am afraid I 
 have often lied, when I meant no harm. I 
 must watch myself." 
 
 Two or three times, as Bridget came in 
 from her visits, she had only time to run and 
 hide her bonnet and cloak behind a door in 
 another room. One evening, Mrs. Marsden 
 found her, before she had time to get her 
 things off, standing behind the door, and ask- 
 ed her what she was doing." 
 
 *' Wiping my hands on the towel, ma'am." 
 
 ** What, with your bonnet and clothes on ?" 
 
 Bridget made no answer. 
 
 ** I need not say a word to you, Bridget," 
 
128 
 
 The scrubbing brush. 
 
 said Mrs. Marsden, '* for I am sure you must 
 feel mean enough to be hiding like a thief, 
 and then to tell stories about it.*' 
 
 Bridget did feel mean ; but as soon as 
 Mrs. Marsden was out of hearing, she ex- 
 claimed, 
 
 " It was not a lie, for I did go there to wipe 
 my hands this morning. '' 
 
 '* But not this time," answered Ann, " and 
 that is what you meant to make her believe, 
 and so it was a lie." 
 
 Bridget had lost her scrubbing brush. 
 Miss Lydia ordered her to look for it, and 
 find it, after tea. Bridget, however, had pro- 
 mised to spend the evening out, and she 
 thought she could find the brush before Miss 
 Lydia was down the next morning. She had 
 just began to search for it, when she heard 
 Miss Lydia, at the head of the stairs, saying, 
 
 " Bridget, where is your scrubbing brush." 
 
 Bridget opened a closet and took down one 
 of Sarah's. 
 
 " Here it is, ma'am." 
 
 '*Very well," said Miss Lydia, coming 
 into the kitchen, and telling her what she 
 wished her to do. As Miss Lydia went out 
 of the kitchen, Ann came in. 
 
 *' There now," said Bridget to her, " I 
 have got myself into a pretty pickle, sure 
 enough. If I take Sarah's brush, she will 
 know it, and tell of me. I dare not go with 
 
129 
 
 New discovery- 
 
 out one. If I stay to look for mine, Miss 
 Lydia will be very angry, for she thinks I 
 have it, and she told me to go at once ; and 
 if 1 ask her to buy another, I shall have to 
 tell her how I deceived her." 
 
 ** Ah," thought Ann, '* how much better it is 
 to be frank, and tell the truth ; for these crook- 
 ed ways get people into such troubles." 
 
 Things grew worse and worse. Bridget 
 was caught in a falsehood so often, that the 
 ladies could not believe any thing she said. 
 She felt that she was a wicked creature, and 
 it made her unhappy. She hated to stay at 
 Mrs. Marsden's, and yet did not want to 
 leave, because she was so fond of Ann. 
 Sometimes, when she would go out of the 
 kitchen sad and gloomy, she would come 
 back after a little while entirely changed. 
 Ann wondered at this, and asked her how 
 she could feel so differently ; but that made 
 Bridget angry, for at such times she was 
 very sullen and ill-natured. At last, Ann 
 found out the secret. Bridget's breath be- 
 trayed her, and Ann charged her with having 
 been drinking. 
 
 *' Well," said Bridget, *' I have only been 
 taking a drop or two to keep up my spirits, 
 and I am none the worse for it." 
 
 Ann shook her head and looked sad. Jane 
 looked still more so when she heard about it. 
 ^'' This is about the worst thing you could tell 
 
130 
 
 The temperance socety. 
 
 me about Bridget," said she to Ann ; '* for 
 if a girl once gets a habit of taking strong 
 drink, there is little hope of her. It will 
 grow on her; and there is every reason to 
 fear she will die a drunkard." 
 
 *' O ! do not say so !" exclaimed Ann ; 
 '* what can I do to save her ?" 
 
 " Nothing," said Jane, " unless you can 
 persuade her to leave off ardent spirits, and 
 never touch a drop of it. And to help her 
 do this, she had much better join some fe- 
 male temperance society. You know what 
 I mean. A great many men and women 
 have joined together to put a stop to drink- 
 ing spirit ; and they are called the Tempe- 
 rance Society. Each one of them has signed 
 his or her name to a solenm promise never 
 to use it, nor to offer it to others ; this is 
 joming the society. I have done so; and I 
 hope you will, for the sake of setting a good 
 example ; and I hope Bridget will too, be- 
 cause making the promise, and attending the 
 meetings, and reading the tracts and papers 
 they print, have proved the means of saving 
 many and many a one from dying a drunkard. 
 And, Ann, advise Bridget not to keep compa- 
 ny with any one who indulges in drinking 
 spirit; it is a great temptation to be with 
 those who do so. And while 1 am talking of 
 this, I will warn you never to have any thing 
 to say to a person that is in the habit of drink- 
 
131 
 
 Ainanda's history. 
 
 mg. I would think very badly of any man, 
 who would refuse to join the Temperance So- 
 ciety, and go to the meetings, and read tem- 
 perance papers. I do not mean that he can- 
 not be a sober man, but I should suspect he 
 was no enemy to drinking. You may 
 laugh ; but you would not, if you knew the 
 dreadful sufferings of the wives of drunkards ; 
 men, too, who took only a little at first, and 
 were called sober men, but who have got worse 
 and worse, until they have ruined themselves. 
 
 ** There was my friend Amanda, as nice a 
 girl as ever lived, and a great favourite in the 
 family where she worked. vShe married a 
 decent kind of man, who drank a very little, 
 and was called sober and industrious. Peo- 
 ple said it was a good [natch. But the habit 
 increased upon him ; and before five years 
 had gone, he ran off, and left her with two 
 small children to support. She went to 
 work ; and was doing pretty well, when he 
 came back ; and while she was out washing, 
 he sold her furniiure to pay his tavern debts, 
 that he might be trusted for more liquor. 
 This was little, though, to what some have to 
 bear. Poverty, abuse, beating, and even 
 murder have been the portion of many a 
 drunkard's wife, aiu! may well be feared by 
 any woman who marries a man that drinks at 
 all. 
 
 ** Rum, and whiskey, and brandy — dread- 
 
I 132 
 
 A drunken woman. 
 
 ful poisons !" continued Jane; '* they spoil 
 the best dispositions, and make people lazy, 
 passionate, unfeeling, immodest, and wicked 
 in every way ! It is all a mistake to think 
 they give strength for work. Instead of do- 
 ing good, strong drink often brings upon peo- 
 ple a dreadful disease called the trembling 
 madness, because those who have it shake 
 all over ; or wakeful madness, because those 
 who have it cannot rest day or night ; and 
 others call it the horrors ; and well is it 
 named, for the poor sufferers see all kinds of 
 dreadful and horrible images. O, Ann ! if all 
 this is shocking in a man, what must it be in 
 a woman ? Here, in this very newspaper, is 
 an account of such a wretched creature." 
 
 Jane reads : — 
 
 " Some two or three months ago, I was 
 called to see the wife of an honest and hard- 
 working man, living in **** street. Her left 
 side, from head to foot, was terribly burnt 
 and scalded ; for she had been drinking free- 
 ly, and had fallen on the edge of a kettle of 
 boiling water, and turned it over. Though I 
 dressed the burns, I gave no hope of her re- 
 covery ; the wounds were A^ery bad ; and be- 
 sides, she had weakened her constitution by 
 habits of indulgence, and had often had slight 
 attacks of delirium tremens (trembling mad- 
 ness). For three days, however, she did well ; 
 
1^3 
 
 Horrible madness. 
 
 but on the fourth, she drunk a quart of \\iiiskey ; 
 and soon after, she was seized with delirium 
 tremens in its very worst form. She became 
 excessively talkative ; fancying sometimes 
 they were trying to kill her ; and would beg 
 of her attendants, in the most beseeching man- 
 ner, not to do so. At other times, she thought 
 herself away from the house, and entreated 
 them to let her return to her suffering child- 
 ren ! Then, for a moment, she would fix 
 her wild eyes upon some particular spot in 
 the room, and again suddenly scream out, 
 describing the most frightful and hideous ob- 
 jects ; and pray them to save her from their 
 cruelty. Her attendants, however, kept her 
 on the bed until the next morning, when she 
 seemed a little more quiet. She was left 
 alone a few minutes ; but while the nurse 
 Svas out of her bed-room, she became perfect- 
 ly frantic ; tore the dressing and skin also 
 from her burns, sprang up, seized the feather- 
 bed in her right hand, ran out into another 
 room, shaking her bed most violently, and 
 declaring at the same time it was filled with 
 snakes ! Her appearance, at this moment, 
 can neither be described or imagined. Be- 
 sides the horrid appearance of the burns, she 
 had a wild and fiendish expression, that 
 would make one think of the inhabitants of 
 the lower world ! She was perfectly stifi", 
 
 M 
 
134 
 
 Eniire abstinence the only safety. 
 
 and had her bed in reality been filled with 
 serpents, she could not have shaken it with 
 more vehemence ; frequently she would speak 
 of them as coming out, and coiling about her 
 arms and body ; then unwind them, and throw 
 them from her. In such a state she continued 
 about forty-eight hours. When, by large 
 doses of opium, she was made more quiet, 
 she became very anxious to kiss her youngest 
 daughter ; the little girl was brought, but so 
 frightened was she at the altered appearance 
 of her mother, that she screamed to go from 
 her, the instant she saw her. -In a short 
 time, the wretched woman was no more. 
 
 ** Ann, will you drink a poison, which 
 may bring on you all those horrors ? O ! 
 there can be no doubt that liquor kills thou- 
 sands and thousands long before their time." 
 
 ** But," said Ann, " I do not think Bridget 
 will ever get to be so bad as that." 
 
 '* Perhaps not," said Jane ; *' but how can 
 a girl that drinks at all be a good servant? 
 Who could trust her witli any thitig about tlie 
 house, when she might drink, and do no one 
 can tell what mischief. No, there is little 
 hope for Bridget, or any one else like her, 
 unless she leaves off at once, and never tastes 
 a drop again. Let this be your resolution, 
 dear Ann ; and do you and Bridget join the 
 'i'emperance Society. For, besides all the 
 evils we have spoken of, the worst is to come; 
 
135 
 
 The end of drunkards. 
 
 for the Bible says, * Drunkards shall not in- 
 herit the kingdom of God.' " 
 
 Ann concluded not to leave Mrs. Marsden, 
 and soon after she went with her into the 
 country for a few weeks. Just before they 
 set off, Sarah was turned away, and Lucy 
 was put in the cook's place. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Stealing. 
 
 The next Sunday after Ann returned, she 
 hastened to her aunt as usual ; but she had 
 scarcely seated herself, when she said, 
 
 ' I have been wishing for this time to 
 come, for I am very much troubled in my 
 mind, because I do not know how I ought 
 to act about something. The day after we 
 got back, Mr. Marsden wanted wine at din- 
 ner; he went down into his cellar to bring 
 up a particular sort that he is very choice of, 
 and which he had left there to grow old. He 
 turned up one bottle after another, and they 
 were all empty. Nobody knew what had 
 become of the wine ; and, after a while, no 
 more was said about it. However, this set 
 me to watching. 
 
 *' I found that whenever Lucy cut a ham to 
 
136 
 
 Lucy and the egg-woman. 
 
 broil, she took off two or three slices more 
 than were wanted, and set them aside. 
 When she got potatoes out of the barrel, she 
 always brought up more than she boiled. 
 When she took butter from the firkin, a part 
 of the lump was always put away. I thought 
 this was queer, but I said nothing. 
 
 " There is a woman who comes once a 
 week to sell eggs. Lucy asked Mrs. Mars- 
 den to. buy of her regularly, because, she 
 said, she knew her to be a poor, deserving 
 woman, who made her living by selling eggs. 
 I soon found that after the- egg-woman had 
 been at the house, all the slices and things - 
 were gone ; and, at last, I actually saw Lucy 
 put them into her basket, and I saw her then 
 carry the basket away. 
 
 *' Now, aunt, this is going on from week to 
 week, and I know it; but Mrs. Marsden does 
 not; she is deceived, and what ought I to 
 do?" 
 
 *' Tell Mrs. Marsden all you know about 
 the matter," said Jane. 
 
 *' But Lucy will be ruined if I do. Mrs. 
 Marsden keeps her now only out of charity ; 
 and if she sends her away with the character 
 of a thief, what will become of her ? 1 cannot 
 bear to be so cruel to a fellow servant." 
 
 " But if you keep it quiet, you let Lucy. I 
 and the egg-woman grow in sin, and you 
 wrong Mrs. Marsden ; and if you do noi 
 
137 
 
 The partaker as bad as the thief. 
 
 tell of the guilty person, the blame may fall 
 on yourself, or some one else who is inno- 
 cent." 
 
 *' But Lucy will be so angry." 
 
 *' But, Ann, remember the person who con- 
 ceals stealing is almost as bad as the thief. 
 If you do not tell, I must." 
 
 " Well, I will, then." 
 
 " I hope Bridget is not in it," said Jane. 
 
 *' I hope not, but I am not sure. The 
 other evening she called me into the nursery, 
 and locked the door. 
 
 *' * See,' said she, ' what a nice supper I 
 have got ready for you ;' and with that, she 
 lifted a towel, and there was bread, and 
 butter, and cold ham, and other good things. 
 She looked up in my face, expecting to see 
 me smile ; but I looked very grave. 
 
 " ' Bridget,' said I, ' where did you get 
 these ?' 
 
 " ' What does that matter V said she. 
 
 '« ' This much,' said I ; * if they are your 
 own, and you give them to me, I will eat 
 them and be glad ; but I will not touch stolen 
 things.' 
 
 " ' Stolen, indeed !' cried she ; * they came 
 out of the pantries down-stairs.' 
 
 " • Then they are Mrs. Marsden's, and you 
 know she does not mean you should have 
 them, or you would not have locked the door. 
 I say that is stealing them from her.' 
 2 m 
 
138 
 
 What is theft. 
 
 *' * I am no thief,' said Bridget: 
 
 *' * But you are a thief, when you take Mrs. 
 Marsden's things without her leave, and 
 when you would not be willing to have her 
 know it; that is stealing,' said I, ' or I do not 
 know what is stealing.' " 
 
 "And you said right," interrupted Jane. 
 
 " Well, Bridget said I was too strict; othei 
 girls did not think as I did ; Lucy and she 
 had something nice almost every day. 
 
 *' ' Then,' said I, * I can guess what be- 
 came of the port wine.' At this she coloured, 
 and said, 
 
 *' ' Well, Ann, I will tell you just the truth 
 of the matter. I have drunk wine and cider, 
 and ate raisins, and biscuit, and fruit, and 
 any thing I could get at ; but I have not sent 
 or taken any thing away. I do not call that 
 stealing at all. I did not take the wine ; 
 for Lucy did that all herself. She gave it to 
 that egg-woman. I know that woman very 
 well. She has got a son that is sick, and 
 Lucy and he are engaged to be married ; and 
 she sends him a little of every thing that 
 comes into her hands. But I have nothing to 
 do with that— I am no thief!' 
 
 ** I told her she was a thief, though not as 
 bad as Lucy ; and so we parted. 1 hope it 
 is no worse than she says ; but I am very sor- 
 ry she is not perfectly honest." 
 
 ** Yes," said Jane ; " if there is airy differ- 
 
139 
 
 Purloining. 
 
 ence at all between her and Lucy, it is that 
 Lucy breaks one commandment, — that is, 
 * Thou shall not steal,' — while Bridget breaks 
 another, that is, ' Exhort servants to be obe- 
 dient (to their masters), not purloining, but 
 showing all good fidelity.' Now purloining 
 is taking little things, as Bridget does. God 
 knows that servants, who see plenty all around 
 them, are very much tempted to do this ; and 
 therefore he has expressly told them not to 
 be purloining, because, if they do this, they 
 are not fit to be trusted. If you steal at all, if 
 you take any thing that belongs to any other 
 person without their leave, God will cer- 
 tainly notice it, and will be displeased; 
 and he will remember it, and punish you 
 for it." 
 
 ** But, aunt," said Ann, " you do not really 
 think that God will punish people so for just 
 taking little things. Now, whenever Bill's 
 jacket and trowsers are washed or mended, 
 we find buttons, and playthings, and some- 
 times cents in them. And that Sally, we had, 
 used to go to Mrs. Marsden's work-box for 
 needles, and cotton, and tape ; you do not 
 think they will suffer, after death, for such 
 stealing as that?" 
 
 " I do," said Jane; " that is < purloining;' 
 the very kind of stealing which God forbids, 
 particularly to servants ; and it is as wicked to 
 steal one thing as another. It is not the 
 
140 
 
 Lucv char<?pd wiih steal n'j^. 
 
 value of the things, but the dishonesty of the 
 action that is considered." 
 
 That evening, as soon as she got home, 
 Ann told Mrs. Marsden all she knew about 
 Lucy and the egg-woman. 
 
 She was very much shocked and sur- 
 prised, and said she could not believe that 
 Lucy would wrong her so, after all her kind- 
 ness to her ; but that she certainly had no- 
 ticed that things went faster than before, since 
 Lucy had been in the house. She hoped it 
 was not so ; yet she had never known Ann to 
 speak a false word. She finished by telling 
 her to say nothing more about it at present. 
 
 Next morning, after breakfast, the bell 
 rang, and Lucy was ordered up-stairs. Mr. 
 and Mrs. Marsden were sitting by the table. 
 Mr. Marsden said, — 
 
 '* Lucy, I have sent for you on unpleasant 
 business. You have been accused of dis- 
 honest conduct ; but we hope you will be 
 able to prove your innocence." 
 
 He then let her know all that had been 
 said about her. She turned very pale ; but 
 at first denied it, declaring she never could 
 be so wicked and ungrateful. But when he 
 mentioned the particular days, and the things 
 she had taken, and asked her if she did not 
 remember this, and that, and the other, she 
 cried out, — 
 
 " Who told you ?— did Bridget ?" 
 
141 
 
 Lucy turned off. 
 
 ** No," said Mr. Marsden ; " it is one whom 
 we cannot help believing. Ann saw you." 
 
 At this Lucy burst into a violent fit of cry- 
 ing, exclaiming, " It is false ! it is false ! I 
 am no thief! I never injured Mrs. Marsden. 
 -She would never be any the poorer for what 
 I took, so it was no stealing." 
 
 ** God has not left it to us to judge," replied 
 Mr. Marsden, " who can spare things, or when 
 they should be taken from one to give to an- 
 other. He says plainly, ' Thou shalt not 
 steal ;' and any one who takes what belongs 
 to another is a thief. Nothing can excuse 
 you, Lucy. You can get your things to- 
 gether to-day, and leave the house to-morrow. 
 I will pay up your month's wages." 
 
 ** But what will become of me ? — will you 
 give me a good character ?" 
 
 " I must tell the truth of you ; and what 
 will that be, Lucy ?" 
 
 Poor Lucy sobbed violently. 
 
 " O !" she cried, *'l am ruined, ruined en- 
 tirely ! — no respectable person will hire a 
 thief. It is very hard ; for I am not half so 
 bad as Sarah. It was she who taught me to 
 steal ; and she has taken more than I have." 
 
 " Has any one else had a share in this 
 business ?" 
 
 " 1 am no worse than others. I ought not 
 to be turned away any more than Bridget. 
 O ! for pity's sake, keep me, or give me a 
 
142 
 
 Bridget examined. 
 
 recommendation. I will never do so again, — 
 never, never !" 
 
 " Nay," said Mr. Marsden, " it is of no 
 use to make promises, Lucy. You have de- 
 ceived us, so that we can never trust you 
 again. Go up-stairs, now, to your own room; 
 and think of your conduct, and prepare to 
 leave us to-morrow " 
 
 She went out, wringing her hands, and cry- 
 ing, " O ! I am ruined ! ruined ! What will 
 become of me ?" 
 
 Bridget was then called up. 
 
 " Bridget," said Mr. Marsden, " do you 
 know any thing of the stealing which has 
 
143 
 
 Bri(iget exaujined. 
 
 been carried on by Lucy and the egg- wo- 
 man ?" 
 
 Bridget blushed, and then stammered out, 
 
 ** 1 promised not to tell any thing about it, 
 Sir. 
 
 ** But it is all found out now, Bridget. You 
 had better be honest, and confess the share 
 you have had in it." 
 
 *' I have had nothing to do with it, sir." 
 
 '* But it seems you knew of it, and never 
 told." 
 
 ** Yes, sir, but I have had nothing to do 
 with it. I am not quite wicked enough to 
 steal." 
 
 '' Take care, Bridget ; Lucy says you ought 
 to be turned away as much as she." 
 
 *' I should like to hear Lucy say, to my 
 face, that she ever knew me to steal, '* 
 
 Lucy was sent for ; but she was sullen, 
 and would not speak, except to repeat, ** She 
 is as bad as I am." 
 
 *' Ann said nothing about Bridget," said 
 Amelia iMarsden. 
 
 Ann was called, and asked if she ever knew 
 Bridi^et to do any thing dishonest. 
 
 She was silent, but the tears came into 
 her eyes. 
 
 '* Well," said Ann, ** that is all I do know; 
 what I before told you about the supper." 
 
 She had scarcely finished, when Lydia 
 Marsden cxcliimed. 
 
Various kinds of dishonesty. 
 
 " Mother, the other evening, Bridget eame 
 home late, and I let her in ; and she had on 
 one of our cloth cloaks." 
 
 *' Yes, Bridget, and you know how often 
 I have missed handkerchiefs from my draw- 
 ers, and found them half-dirty in your room," 
 said Mrs. Marsden. 
 
 " Well," cried Bridget, " I will just tell 
 the truth. I have eaten, and drank, and used, 
 and worn things that belonged to the family 
 here. If that is dishonest, I have been disho- 
 nest, and I am sorry for it ; but I have never 
 done worse ; I have never carried any thing 
 away. I never would have any thing to do 
 with Lucy's business." 
 
 **Ah, Bridget," said Mrs. Marsden, '* you 
 certainly have been dishonest in some degree. 
 Lucy accuses you of being as bad as she is. 
 I know you deny it ; and from your tone and 
 manner, I should believe you, if you had 
 never deceived me. But I cannot put much 
 tmst in your word. I do not know whether 
 you are speaking the truth or not. And aa 
 there seems to be no way of finding out, I 
 shall not be willing to keep you longer than 
 to the end of your month. At that time you 
 must leave us." 
 
 . " But you will give me a recommendation 
 then ?" 
 
 I " I will say that you are active, good-tem- 
 pered, and sober ; but I cannot say that you 
 
145 
 
 Stealing not the only kind of dishonesty. 
 
 are perfectly honest ; for if I am asked about 
 it, I must tell the whole truth, you know." 
 
 "But, Mrs. Marsden, my character will 
 be spoiled! Then how can I get a good 
 place ?" 
 
 "I am sorry, but it cannot be helped now 
 You may both leave the room." 
 
 " Ann," said Bridget, as they went up- 
 stairs, " I have done nothing but what you 
 might have done. Lucy told me, one even- 
 ing, that there was some bottled cider in the 
 closet, and asked me to bring it out, and 
 drink with her ; and after that, I did it again, 
 and so got into the way of taking such things ; 
 and now I am to be turned off as a thief." 
 
 " O !" thought Ann, "how glad I am I 
 did not touch the supper when you asked me. 
 I might have been in this trouble, too, if I 
 had not remembered not to steal, because it 
 would be sinning against God." 
 
 " Do you know, Ann," said Jane, after 
 hearing what had been passing, *' do you know 
 you may be dishonest without taking things 
 for yourself or others. You may be unfaith- 
 ful, and wrong your master and mistress, 
 without really doing yourself any good. 
 Whenever you waste their things, or injure 
 their furniture, you wrong them. I have seen 
 girls when they toasted slices of bread too 
 brown, just pull them out of the toasting iron, 
 and throw them into the ashes, or out of doors. 
 N 
 
146 
 
 Secrets to be kept. 
 
 Now this is wronging the family as really as 
 if it had been stolen from them. Waste is a 
 kind of dishonesty. But it is not only their 
 property that you are trusted with ; you often 
 happen to hear things which they would not 
 wish repeated out of the house. Their secrets 
 then are intrusted to you, and by telling them 
 again you wrong them. There are, indeed, 
 a thousand ways of being dishonest, besides 
 taking things away. Do always try to be 
 honest and trustworthy, and never wrong 
 your employers in any way." 
 
 But what became of Bridget? Mrs. Mars- 
 den could not give her the character of an 
 honest, trustworthy girl ; and, therefore, no 
 respectable family would hire her. She went 
 from one poor place to another, getting all 
 the time lower and lower ; and Ann and Jane, 
 who still felt a kind interest in her, could not 
 help fearing that she was sinkhig fast to ruin. 
 Still they would not give her up ; they were 
 true friends, and often for many months they 
 managed to meet her, and tried to persuade her 
 to leave oif her evil ways. 
 
 '* Ah well," answered she, one day, " what 
 you say is all very true and right ; and 1 
 know I ought to do just as you say, and 
 I should be much happier if I did ; but it is 
 of no use, for I cannot, if I try ever so 
 much." 
 
 *' Whether you can or not," said Jane, "1 
 
147 
 
 Bridget instructed. 
 
 know you never would if you were left to 
 yourself; but there is one ready to help you; 
 that one is God, the Holy Spirit. He can 
 make you like to do what is right and good, 
 and give you strength to do it." 
 
 *'Then, I suppose, if I want to break off 
 my bad habits, and do well, I need only try 
 to do so, and ask God to help me." 
 
 Jane answered, *' Whenever you have done 
 wrong, you have been disobeying God, and 
 offending him. If you do not care for that, 
 if you do not wish to please and mind him, 
 it is not likely that he will send his holy Spi- 
 rit to help you. You must be truly sorry 
 that you have sinned against him ; you must 
 ask him to forgive you for Christ's sake, and 
 to make you feel and act always just as he 
 likes, and you must try to do just as he likes 
 to have you do ; and then you may hope he 
 will help you." 
 
 *' Aunt," said Ann, " perhaps Bridget does 
 not know what you mean, when you say ' for 
 Christ's sake.'" 
 
 ** Jebus Christ suffered and died for our 
 wickedness," said Jane ; " if he had not died 
 for sinners, they must have all gone down into 
 outer darkness, where is weeping and gnash- 
 ing of teeth. But for his sake, God can for- 
 give all those who believe on him and leave 
 off sinning, and ask pardon for his sake. 
 
 " Now, Bridget, will you not be sorrj^ for 
 
148 
 
 Bridget changed. 
 
 having disobeyed God ; and will you not re- 
 solve to love and mind him, and ask him 
 to forgive you for Christ's sake, and to make 
 you good?" 
 
 Many and many a time did Jane and Ann 
 talk thus with her'; many a time did they 
 pray to God for her ; and he heard their 
 prayers, and changed Bridget's heart. She did 
 as Jane had advised her to do ; and trusting 
 in the help of God's Spirit, she left off drink- 
 ing, and deceit, and all her other bad ways, 
 and began to love God, and do her duty as 
 God commands. Still she was in a bad 
 place, and had great temptations ; and Jane 
 trembled for her. At last she ventured to 
 speak to Mrs. Raymond about her, and that 
 kind lady agreed to take her into her own 
 home, on trial, for a month or two. Nothing 
 could have pleased Bridget so much ; and it 
 was with a heart full of humility and grati- 
 tude, that she took her station, under Jane, in 
 Mrs. Raymond's nursery. 
 
149 
 
 Economy of dress. 
 
 CHAPTER XIL 
 
 The Use of Wages. 
 
 It happened one afternoon that Ann came 
 to Mrs. Raymond's, to ask her aunt if she 
 could go shopping with her. She found her 
 m the nursery, sorting the clean clothes. 
 
 *' Why, Ann! how fine you look to-day," 
 cried Jane. 
 
 Ann had on a thin, painted muslin dress, 
 and light-coloured shoes. 
 
 *' You have had a present !" said her aunt. 
 
 " No, I bought them ; they are pretty, are 
 they not ?" 
 
 " Yes," said Jane ; '* but that muslin will not 
 be of half the use to you that a calico would, 
 which you might buy for half the price ; and 
 those shoes will be dirty and spoiled long be- 
 fore they are worn out. What made you buy 
 such expensive useless things ?" 
 
 '* O ! the Miss Marsden's all wear such, 
 and they look very nice ; and I had enough 
 money left from last month to get them with ; 
 and I thought there was no use in saving it 
 up, when I was just going to receive this 
 month's wages." 
 
 ** No use in saving ! You put me in mind 
 N 2 
 
150 
 
 Examples of folly in dress. 
 
 of Jane and Catharine, that used to live op- 
 posite to us, when I first went to live at Mrs. 
 Marsden's. I knew they were paid alike ; 
 and when I saw them walk down the street, 
 — Jane in a calico dress, and plain straw bon- 
 net, and Kate in a handsome coloured silk, 
 and a gay hat, — I used to think, how mean 
 and stingy Jenny must be ! And I remem- 
 ber I was very much surprised, one day, 
 by hearing Mrs. Raymond say, * How much 
 more proper and becoming Jenny's dress is 
 than Kate's.' Well, thought I, when I have 
 wages I will dress well, too, proper or not pro- 
 per. However, I soon had reason to change 
 my mind. The two girls went to some 
 place where they both took the small-pox. 
 As soon as the woman, they lived with, found 
 what was the matter, she sent them away. 
 Their friends would not take them in. Poo* 
 Kate had spent all her money for clothes. 
 Now, in her illness, she was left altogether to 
 charity, and had to go to the alms-house ; 
 and a dreadful time she had of it. Jenny, on 
 the contrary, had been laying up a little 
 every month ; and she had enough to hire a 
 comfortable place, and to pay for a doctor 
 and a nurse. So you see it is well to save 
 something for a time of sickness or trouble. 
 
 *' And when I look around, 1 can think of a 
 good many like her. Nancy, who just left us, 
 paid her brother's and sister's passage from 
 
151 
 
 Savings bank. 
 
 Ireland with money which she had saved 
 from her wages ; and she only got four dol- 
 lars a month, and had been at service six 
 years. Charlotte supports her old mother en- 
 tirely by her savings. Rachel, who has lived 
 in one place so long, has been careful, and 
 has quite a little fortune in the bank, enough 
 to live on in her old age ; so that she has 
 . been able to take charge of the children of 
 a sister, who lately died and left them orphans 
 without a cent." 
 
 " But I have no old mother, or friends in 
 Ireland," said Ann. 
 
 *' No, but you have friends here. There is 
 your brother Jame's, when he is through his 
 apprenticeship, will want a little money to 
 set him up in a trade. Cannot you save 
 enough for that ? Or cannot you pay for his 
 schooling? It is a pity such a fine boy 
 should grow up without any learning. And 
 even if you do not choose to do any such 
 thing with your money, do you not know 
 you will be really richer if you put in the 
 savings bank ? If you let it stay there long 
 enough, they will pay you back a great deal 
 more than you put in." 
 
 " Well," said Ann ; ** I wish I had got a 
 calico, instead of this muslin. I am a silly 
 girl. But, after all, I am not so silly as some 
 girls I know. It was but the other day that 
 Mary Marsh went out with five dollars, a 
 
152 
 
 Mary Marsh's folly. 
 
 whole month's wages. She came home with 
 a pair of black glass ear-rings, two bunches 
 of artificial curls, a pair of thin open-worked 
 stockings, and a small dress-handkerchief. 
 This was three dollars worth. The other 
 two she mislaid, and has never found. That 
 was the end of her month's hard labour. And 
 Louisa, too, you know, last week bought a silk 
 dress and a silk hat, and a fine veil, and a hand- 
 kerchief, when she had not under-clothes to 
 keep herself comfortable ; not a tidy gown to 
 do her work in ; indeed, she is so slatternly, 
 that she has lost many good places by it. Ladies 
 would not have her about their houses , and 
 she went so, because she spent all her money 
 for finery." 
 
 " Well," said Jane, " which do you think 
 were the wisest and the best off, such girls 
 as these or those I told about ? 
 
 " But, Ann, I forgot you wanted to go out. 
 Is that a bank-note you are rumpling up in 
 your hand ?" 
 . " Yes," said Ann, pushing it back under 
 her glove, " I was thinking I can do without 
 the things I was going for ; and I suppose I 
 ought to save every cent that I am not really 
 obliged to spend." 
 
 " I do not know that," said Jane ; " money 
 is so much wanted — there are so many good 
 things that can be done with it, that I do not 
 like the notion of hoarding up every thing." 
 
153 
 
 The Tract Society. 
 
 "So much wanted?" said Ann, looking 
 up, as if she did not quite understand her 
 aunt. But just then Jane was called off for 
 something, and Ann went home. 
 
 However, the first time she could be 
 spared, she came again. 
 
 ** I have been thinking, aunt," said she, 
 " what you meant ; I suppose you meant that 
 I want money to buy stout shoes, and dark 
 useful gowns, and comfortable under-clothes ; 
 but indeed I do not ; I have got plenty of 
 them." 
 
 " You ought certainly to keep yourself in 
 warm, decent clothing," said Jane ; " but there 
 are many other things that you might do with 
 that dollar, if you do not need it for any 
 thing more useful and proper. 
 
 " Many persons, you know, have joined to- 
 gether into a society, for the purpose of giv- 
 ing away tracts. Instead of visiting people, 
 and speaking to them about Christ and such 
 things as would be likely to turn them from 
 their bad ways, they write down and print 
 what they would speak ; and the little books 
 or tracts, as they call them, are. given away, 
 or thrown into houses, or sold very cheap. 
 And they do a great deal of good. They are 
 easily scattered, and are almost always re- 
 ceived ; and being short and interesting 
 stories, they are read by those who will never 
 touch a larger book. Many persons I have 
 
154 
 
 The Sunday-school Society. 
 
 seen, to whom they have been of great ser 
 vice in this way. Now that dollar of your's, 
 if given to the Tract Society, would pay foi 
 printing and scattering more than fifty tracts ; 
 and would perhaps be the means of causing 
 many sinners to forsake their sins, to live 
 useful lives, and to be blessed for ever in 
 heaven. One cent will buy a tract which 
 may save a soul. 
 
 '* Some people too have joined together, call- 
 ing themselves Sunday-school Unions or So- 
 cieties. They get together all kinds of children, 
 the children of the rich and the poor, the 
 good and the bad, and teach them, on Sundays, 
 about their duty to God and Christ, to their 
 parents, and to each other. I saw in a news 
 paper which Mrs. Raymond lent to me, there 
 were as many as five thousand teachers, and 
 ten thousand scholars, supposed to have been 
 converted to God in one year in this country. 
 And many of these children are the meana 
 of bringing their parents to think about reli 
 gion. And even those who are not changed 
 in heart, get many right notions and good 
 habits. Now that dollar of your's, given to a 
 Sunday-school Union, would help to set up a 
 Sabbath-school, and perhaps be the means of 
 saving a soul. 
 
 " So if your dollar was given to what is call- 
 ed a Home Missionary Society, it would help 
 to send ministers to those parts of this country 
 
155 
 
 Home Missionary and Bible Societies. 
 
 that have none. You know, too, that there 
 are many countries in the world where the 
 Bible was never seen or heard of. These 
 pagan or heathen nations, as they are called, 
 know nothing of God or the gospel. They 
 worship and pray to false gods, made of 
 blocks of wood and stone. They worship 
 the sun, and moon, and stars ; fire, water, 
 beasts, insects, reptiles, and even plants and 
 feathers. Their worship is, for the most 
 part, indecent and cruel. In Hindostan, they 
 think one of their rivers a goddess ; and to 
 please her, the mothers sometimes throw their 
 children in, to be drowned, or devoured by 
 the crocodiles. In some of the islands, they 
 kill men and women to please their idols. 
 In India, there is a great carriage which looks 
 like a great building with high towers. I do 
 not remember what it is called, but I have 
 I seen a picture of it ; it is drawn along the 
 street, and those who wish to please the god 
 that rides on it, throw themselves on the 
 ground before the carriage, and are crushed 
 to death as it passes over them. This is all 
 because they are taught to think all misfor- 
 tune or sickness a punishment coming from 
 some god. These heathen people are dread- 
 fully wicked. They steal, and lie, and mur- 
 der without shame. I heard a minister once 
 say, that in the Society Islands, I think he 
 called them, more children were killed than 
 
156 
 
 Paganism. 
 
 were kept alive ; and from this, and the bloody 
 wars, and the diseases they brought on them 
 selves by drinking and every other kind of 
 vice, the people were becoming fewer and 
 fewer, and seemed likely soon to leave the 
 islands without one inhabitant. There are 
 four or five hundred millions of heathens in 
 the world, besides Jews and Mahometans. 
 And as the Bible says, ' Without holiness no 
 man shall see the Lord,' how can we tell 
 but that all these, when they die, will go 
 away into everlasting punishment. What 
 can be done to prevent this, and to make their 
 condition better ? Why, we must send them 
 the word of God. There are societies called 
 Bible Societies, which have already sent 
 thousands of Bibles among the people of our 
 our own country, and they are now sending 
 them to distant countries. That dollar of 
 yours, if given to a Bible Society, would 
 carry the religion of the Bible to a whole 
 town, perhaps, where such a thing as a Bible 
 or a Sabbath has never been known. 
 
 ** But the Bible will be of little use to them 
 unless they have persons who can teach them 
 to read it, and to explain it, and to preach it. 
 Such men have gone, and are still going out 
 to them, and they are called missionaries. 
 In some places, their teaching, with the bless- 
 ng of God, has changed a multitude of the 
 wicked, cruel pagans, into a decent, indus- 
 
157 
 
 Missionary and Education Societies. 
 
 trious Christian people. If that dollar of 
 your's were given to a Foreign Missionary 
 Society, it would help to send preachers into 
 the dark places of the world, and to save men 
 and women from misery on earth, and from 
 ' the wrath to come.' Or if you give it to 
 what are called Education Societies, it would 
 go towards fitting some young man, who is 
 too poor to pay for his own schooling, to be a 
 minister or a missionary." 
 
 " You tell me so much," said Ann, " I can- 
 not rightly remember what you do say. If I 
 give this dollar to the Tract Society, it will 
 be used for printing and giving away little: 
 printed tracts ; or to the Sunday-school Union, 
 it will be used to open Sunday-schools , if tc* 
 the Home Missionary, it will go towards 
 building up churches, and supporting minis- 
 ters, in those places where there are none ; if 
 to the Bible and Foreign Missionary Societies, 
 towards teaching the heathen ; and if to the 
 Education Society, towards fitting young 
 men to become ministers and missionaries." 
 
 " Yes," said Jane ; '' but those are n'Ot the 
 only things that could be done with it. There 
 are other countries and other plans of doing 
 good, besides what I have mentioned ; bu*6 1 
 have said enough to show you what can "be 
 done with money ; and when I tell you t,hat 
 all these societies depend upon what is giiven 
 to them ; that they have almost all spent more 
 
158 
 
 Use of money. 
 
 than they have received ; that they have to 
 refuse to do what they could do, and are ask- 
 ed to do, and wish to do, because they have 
 not the means of doing it ; when I tell you 
 this, you will see how precious money is, 
 even a dollar. But what were you going to 
 buy, Ann ?" 
 
 " If I had known before the worth and the 
 use of money, I should never have thought of 
 spending it so foolishly. My hat shall have 
 strings, but no flowers. But how can I do 
 all you have said, when I only get a dollar 
 a week, and have to clothe myself out of 
 that?" 
 
 " You cannot do all," said Jane ; " but if 
 you are careful not to spend more than you 
 need, you may do something. Think it all 
 over, and choose which you had rather do. But 
 at any rate, do not let that which is so pre- 
 c^ious, so useful, be wasted on useless and vain 
 finery or foolish pleasure." 
 
 A day or two after, as Jane and Ann were 
 sitting quietly together at their sewing, Ann 
 suddenly broke out, — 
 
 *' After all, when a girl has been working 
 hard to earn her wages, I think she might use 
 her own money to please herself!" 
 
 ** And would it not please you more to do 
 good, and to bring souls to love Christ, than 
 to be dressed in fine clothes ? Besides, I am 
 not sure, that our money is really our own." 
 
159 
 
 Our money not our own. 
 
 " What do you mean now ?" cried Ann. 
 
 *' Just this," said Jane ; "the silver and the 
 gold are the Lord's — the Bible says so. He 
 made them, and he has never given them away. 
 He only lends them to us to use them for his 
 service." 
 
 ** Do you pretend to say that my money 
 is not mine, but God's ; and that I may not 
 do what I choose with it?" 
 
 " I mean to say just so. God only trusts 
 it in your hands to use it for him ; and in 
 the day of judgment you will have to account 
 to him for the way in which you have spent 
 it. When you receive your wages, you must 
 consider, and with prayer too, how much God 
 would have you to spend for yourself, and 
 how you may best devote the rest to his glory 
 and the happiness of his creatures." 
 
 CHAPTER Xni. 
 
 Behaviour to Men. 
 
 Though Ann was now acquainted with the 
 true value of money, Jane found that she grew 
 more and more anxious to dress gayly ; and 
 many a dollar which might have gone towards 
 
160 
 
 New discovery. 
 
 helping James, or printing Bibles and tracts, or 
 sending preachers of the gospel to the heathen, 
 was spent in fine clothing of little or no use. 
 She noticed, too, that whenever Ann came 
 into the room, her eyes rested on the glass ; 
 and often while she was talking to her, she 
 would seem to be so much taken up in looking 
 at herself, that she scarcely knew what was 
 said. Ann was really a very good-looking girl. 
 
 One Sunday evening, after she had been 
 particularly inattentive to her aunt's advice, 
 Jane went with her to the front door. Ann 
 seemed uneasy, and begged her not to go to 
 the door with her. 
 
 It was a bright moonlight night ; and as 
 Jane stood, looking after her niece, she saw 
 a man step from the next corner as Ann 
 passed it, and offer her his arm, which Ann 
 took. 
 
 As she gazed after them, Jane seemed to 
 hear again the dying words of Ann's mother, 
 " Sister, watch over Ann." " May God help 
 me to do it," she exclaimed ; and as soon as 
 she could possibly be spared, she went to 
 Mrs. Marsden's. Ann opened the door for 
 her. As they walked along towards the 
 kitchen, Jane looked in her face ; and as soon 
 as she stopped, kindly said, 
 
 " Who was it that walked home with you 
 last Sunday evening ?" 
 
 Ann blushed and looked down. 
 
161 
 
 Francis Marsden . 
 
 " Was it the waiter ?" 
 
 " No, indeed !" cried Ann, with a toss of 
 the head; "it was no man-servant; it was 
 somebody a great deal better than John in 
 every way — it was a gentleman." 
 
 "What gentleman?" 
 
 ** O ! dear, dear aunt, I want to tell you 
 all about him, and I was wanting to tell you all 
 last Sunday evening ; but he begged me, as a 
 great favour, not to speak of him to any one, 
 and most of all to you, or his father, or 
 mother, or sister. It was young Francis 
 Marsden. He is at home from college ; but I 
 promised not to tell of it." 
 
 "But you ought not to have made such a 
 promise. I am as a mother to you, and sure- 
 ly, in a matter so important to your happi- 
 ness, I ought to know your plans, so as to be 
 able to advise you. Surely it is not right for 
 a young woman to be left quite to herself, at 
 a time when her happiness or misery for life 
 depends perhaps upon her conduct." 
 
 " I know that," said Ann ; " and since you 
 have guessed so much, I may as well tell you 
 the rest. He acts to me as he would to any 
 lady he visits. He is very attentive, though he 
 has been kept at home with his ill health ; but 
 since he has grown better, whenever I have 
 gone out, after dark, he has gone with me to 
 the place, and seen me home again ; and he 
 talks to me a ffi-eat deal." 
 ^ 02 
 
162 
 
 Ann's folly. 
 
 ** What does he say ?" 
 
 " !" said Ann, looking down, while her 
 poor apron was rolled into a thousand wrin- 
 kles by her restless hands ; " O ! it sounds 
 silly to tell again ; but it is very pleasant when 
 he is saying it. He says he likes me better 
 than any other lady he ever knew, because 
 I have no airs, but am ' a child of nature.' 
 He says, 'he has been a wild youth ; but he 
 knows what is good, and he only wants some- 
 body just like me to make him all he ought 
 to be.' He says some things in such a way, 
 too ; and then he looks in my face with 
 those beautiful black eyes ; — oh ! I wish he 
 had come near enough, the other night, fur 
 you to see." 
 
 " But, Ann — " said Jane. 
 
 Ann, however, had now begun to talk, and 
 there was no stopping her. 
 
 "And he says, aunt, he has left college for 
 good, and his father is going to give him one 
 of his farms ; and he will go out there to live, 
 and take me with him." 
 
 "As his servant?" said Jane. 
 
 " No," said Ann, *' as his wife, to be sure ; 
 for he added, ' and we shall be so happy to- 
 gether.' Why do you look so grave and sad ? 
 would it not be a good match for me ?" 
 
 " No," said Jane ; " you are all wrong, 
 Ann, depend upon it. Tnere is wickedness 
 in the very beginning of it. Why does he 
 
163 
 
 Warning. 
 
 want to deceive anybody ? why ask you not 
 to let the family know of it. It is plain he 
 knows they would not be pleased." 
 
 Ann was silent. 
 
 ** Still more," said Jane ; " if he really 
 means to make you his wife, I do not see 
 why he is so secret and sly in his attentions. 
 Why did he beg you not to tell me ? — why 
 does he walk with you after dark, and not in 
 the day-time ? — why does he wait at the 
 corner of the street, instead of coming to the 
 house for you? Besides, is it likely that the 
 young, rich Francis Marsden would tie him- 
 self for life to his mother's chambermaid ? 
 You must excuse me, Ann, for speaking so 
 plainly ; but he owns, himself, he has been a 
 wild youth, and I advise you not to trust him." 
 
 Jane took from the shelf in the nursery a 
 volume of the Rev. John A. James's Family 
 Monitor, in which she had been reading. 
 
 "Here, Ann," said she, "read what is 
 marked here." 
 
 Ann reads : — 
 
 " When it is well known, that of the mise 
 rable and loathsome victims of seduction that 
 crowd the path of vice, a very large propor- 
 tion were female servants, betrayed from the 
 ways of virtue in the first instance by their 
 masters, or their master's sons, or their fel- 
 low servants of the opposite sex, — surely it is 
 *he duty of every one who is specially ad- 
 
164 
 
 Ann sensible of her folly. 
 
 dressing young women in service, most so- 
 lemnly and most pointedly to warn them 
 against the wily arts of the seducer, who is 
 fascinating them to their ruin." — p. 191. 
 
 *' This," said she, *' shows you the reason 
 why I speak on such a subject ; and it re- 
 minds us of a striking fact, which I want you 
 to notice and think upon." 
 
 Ann sat down by the table, laid her face 
 on her hands, and burst into tears. 
 
 " My dear child," said Jane, ** you must 
 put a stop to this affair at once. Pray for 
 God's help, and allow no more evening walks, 
 no more secret conversations. Have nothing 
 to do with young master Marsden, except 
 what passes in public ; and as little even of 
 that as possible. A farther acquaintance 
 can bring you only trouble, at the very best ; 
 and at the worst — ! I shudder to think 
 of it. 
 
 " Indeed," continued her aunt, " if you do 
 not feel strong and firm in your purpose, you 
 had better leave the place than trust yourself 
 in his company. I shall not object to your 
 changing on this account." 
 
 Ann sat a while silent ; at last, throwing 
 herself into her aunt's arms, she cried, " O ! 
 dear aunt, I am a weak, wicked girl ! Since 
 1 have known Frank Marsden, my heart has 
 been so full of him, that I have read and pray- 
 ed carelessly, and sometimes not at all. O ! 1 
 
165 
 
 The deceiver exposed. 
 
 am ashamed of myself; but I do wish to do 
 right when I stop to think about it." 
 
 '' Well, Ann," said her aunt, '* the best way 
 for you is to get out of the way of temptation. 
 You ought not to stay a day longer in the house 
 with Francis Marsden. Will you give notice 
 now to leave? Never mind your month's; 
 wages. You had better lose those than stay." 
 
 '' What ! and never see him again ?" 
 
 " No, never," said Jane, firmly. 
 
 They went down into the parlour. Mrs. 
 Marsden was so surprised that Ann should 
 wish to leave her, that she insisted upon 
 knowing the cause ; and when she was told, 
 she said Ann need not go, for Francis was 
 to return to college the next day ; but, as his 
 mother, she desired to know all about the 
 business. 
 
 " I am sorry," she said, after she had heard 
 the story ; " I am very much grieved to learn 
 this of my son. His father has never spoken 
 to him of a farm ; he has no future plans at 
 all ; indeed, he will go to college for another 
 year yet. It is well for you, Ann, that you 
 did not trust him ; and I honour you for 
 speaking to your friends of it, and for acting 
 as you have done. Stay with me, however. 
 I will take care that Francis does not trouble 
 you again." Mrs. Marsden kept her word ; 
 but that evening, Ann found, pushed under 
 her door, the following note: — "Mother is 
 
166 
 
 Rules of behaviour towards men. 
 
 jealous, because she sees I love you even 
 better than her. So she has kept me busy- 
 away from you ; or I would have been on my 
 knees, before now, to beg your pardon for the 
 unknown offence I have given you. Let me 
 know what 1 have done. Come into the en- 
 try to-night, after the family are all out of the 
 way, and tell me ; and let us be friends again. 
 Do come ; for I have to go and look at the 
 farm to-morrow. My first wish is to please 
 you in every thing." 
 
 Though there was no name, Ann knew 
 well who had written this. 
 
 ** The farm, indeed !" said she ; " I under- 
 stand you now, sir," and with that she threw 
 the note into the fire, locked the door, and 
 falling on her knees, thanked God, and beg- 
 ged him to take care of her in future. 
 
 Next day Mr. Frank was sent back to col- 
 lege ; and in time the whole affair seemed to 
 her only a strange, unquiet dream. 
 
 There was added to Ann's note-book the 
 following rules of conduct towards men : — 
 
 1. If I would be safe, to be always modest. 
 Never to do any thing indelicate or improper, 
 and never allow any one to take liberties with 
 me, even in sport. 
 
 2. Never to keep company with any man who 
 is not willing to have it known to every body. 
 
 3. As it is not likely that a real gentleman 
 means to marry a girl at service, to have 
 
167 
 
 Unhappy marriages. 
 
 nothing to do with such persons, when they 
 pretend that they wish to marry me. Not 
 to be pleased with the thought of marrying 
 into a station above me. Such marriages are 
 almost always unhappy to both parties. 
 
168 
 
 M^ 
 
 Unhappy marriages. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Marrying. 
 
 As Jane was reading these rules to Ann, 
 Bridget jumped from behind the door. '' Pret- 
 ty talk, to be sure !" said she, ** all about court- 
 ing and marrying ! But since you are in that 
 way, I must tell you, Miss Ann, that yoy are 
 not the only one that has a chance. I was 
 asked to my own wedding last evening." 
 
 *' What do you mean ?" asked Jane and 
 Ann, in the same breath : " you were not 
 married last night ?" 
 
 " No, indeed," answered Bridget, laugh- 
 mg ; '* but I was asked to be ; and I had like 
 
169 
 
 Biddy and her young husband. 
 
 I 
 
 to have said ' yes,' only I thought I would 
 wait, and ask Jane's advice first." 
 
 *' Why, you must have made short work of 
 it," said Ann ; '^ I am sure you did not have 
 anybody to see you when we lived together." 
 
 '* Well," said Jane, " my advice to you is, 
 mot to be in a hurry." 
 
 " ! now," cried Bridget, *• you talk so 
 because you are an old maid yourself!" 
 
 *' No !" said Jane ; '* but several acquaint- 
 ances of mine have married, and turned out 
 badly. I could give you a list of them very 
 quick. 
 
 *' There was one of your name, — Biddy, — a 
 cook. She was a middle-aged w^oman, and 
 had done so well at service that she had a 
 good deal of money in the savings bank. 
 One night, she met a very young man who 
 had lived within six miles of her father's 
 house in Ireland. She had never seen him 
 before, but she had heard the name of his 
 family. In a fortnight from that time, she 
 was married to him ; and that without say- 
 ing a word to Mrs. Raymond, though she had 
 lived with her eighteen months." 
 
 *' But how came the young man to choose 
 an old woman ?" said Bridget. 
 
 '* He wanted her money, and he tried every 
 
 way to get at it, but she held on to it. Though 
 
 he had promised to let her stay with Mrs. 
 
 Raymond the rest of the winter, he soon be 
 
 P 
 
ITO 
 
 Biddy's bad bargain. 
 
 gan to teaze her to go to room-keeping, for 
 they could not afford to have a house. 
 
 " By this time she had told Mrs. Raymond 
 of it, and asked her what she had better do. 
 Mrs. Raymond thought, that since she was 
 married to him, if he got a comfortable room, 
 and furnished it for her, it was her duty to 
 go to him ; but she advised her not to pay for 
 the furniture herself. ' Indeed, I will not,' 
 said Biddy. Accordingly when he had hired 
 a room and a stove, he wanted her to furnish 
 it ; but she refused, and gave her bank-book 
 to Mrs. Raymond to keep for her. Finding 
 the cash could not be touched, he quarrelled 
 with her, and went off. In the mean while 
 Mrs. Raymond had engaged another cook. 
 So, three weeks after her marriage, and five 
 from her first acquaintance with the man, the 
 poor woman was left without a husband and 
 without a place, and with the rent of the room 
 and the hire of the stove to pay ! 
 
 " The girl who lived next door to us was 
 married too, she and her sister, to two brothers. 
 The next I heard of them was, that the bro- 
 thers had gone down the river, without saj'-- 
 ing a word about it ; and that the wives had 
 gone to bring them back. 
 
 *' Mrs. Green's Miranda too. O ! I told Ann 
 about her before — about her getting married, 
 and her husband's drinking, and leaving her 
 
171 
 
 Unhappy marriages. 
 
 ■ 
 
 with two children, and then coming back and 
 selling her furniture to get liquor. 
 
 *' I saw a girl only a week ago, whose ap- 
 pearance pleased me much; and on asking 
 about her, I was told that she had married 
 while at service, that her husband had soon 
 left her, and gone to another city, where he 
 had taken another wife ; and she wanted to 
 go to service again. 
 
 '' Mrs. Dal ton had a cook and a waiter, who 
 engaged themselves to each other. Though 
 the cook had always been perfectly honest, 
 she let her lover persuade her to unlock the 
 closets for him, and he stole away all they 
 wanted to make their bride-cake, and took it 
 to her mother's, where they were to stay the 
 week of the wedding. Then they were to 
 come back to Mrs. Dalton's. But, meanwhile, 
 their dishonesty had been found out, and she 
 would not take them. You would think that, 
 after being the means of making her lose her 
 place, her husband would have taken good 
 care of her. On the contrary, in less than a 
 year after, the poor woman came to Mrs. 
 Dalton's, sick and distressed, to beg a little 
 work to keep her from starving. 
 
 "There are six servant girls that I remember 
 now, who got nothing but sorrow by marrying ; 
 and I only know two who have done well." 
 
 *' So I suppose you would have us all live 
 single ?" said Bridget. 
 
172 
 
 Of two states choose the best. 
 
 " No, no," said Jane, '' I rather think, that 
 when a girl gets a good husband, she is better 
 off than at service. All I mean to make you 
 see is, that you must be careful, and know 
 well all about the man before you have him ; 
 and not take up with the first that offers. It 
 is much better to be a comfortable, respect- 
 able old maid, than an unhappy wife. I have 
 never been sorry that I refused those who 
 wanted me." 
 
 *' But," said Ann, " was there not some 
 particular reason why those men turned out 
 to be so bad?" 
 
 " Let us see," said Jane. " Biddy was 
 quite in too much hurry : if she had taken 
 a little longer to think about her young man, 
 and to get acquainted with him, she would 
 have found out what kind of a boy he was, 
 and would not have had him." 
 
 " Besides," said Bridget, ** I do not like 
 the notion of girls marrying men that are ever 
 so much younger than themselves." 
 
 *' No," said Jane ; '* for then, when their 
 husbands are in the best of life, they will 
 be old women, and no great wonder if their 
 men get tired of them." 
 
 "I am sure," said Bridget, <*from their 
 conduct afterwards, none of them could have 
 been very good and steady men. They 
 could not have had good principles ; at any 
 rate, they certainly could not have been reli- 
 
173 
 
 Signs of a good husband. 
 
 gious. I suppose the girls never took care 
 to find out about that before they took them." 
 
 '' They were very silly if they did not," 
 said Jane ; "no girl should marry a man, 
 without she knows him to be steady, and to 
 have temperate and good principles." 
 
 " And they should be industrious, too," 
 said Bridget, *' or we might be as badly off 
 as Abby." 
 
 " And good-tempered," said Ann. 
 
 " To be sure," said Bridget ; " what com- 
 fort would there be with one who had an 
 ugly, sullen temper." 
 
 '* Well," said Jane, ** you have my advice 
 then, Bridget. If the person who wants you is 
 steady ; if he has good principles and a good 
 temper ; if he is temperate and industrious, 
 and can support you comfortably ; and if he is 
 of a proper age for you, and you really love 
 him, and think you can be more useful married 
 than single, you may as well marry him." 
 
 " If! if — if — how many ifs," said Bridget ; 
 "how can I know about all these things, 
 when I have not seen him longer than eight 
 or nine weeks ago ?" 
 
 " Why, you cannot," answered Jane; " and 
 so I advise you to wait, and ask about him, and 
 get better acquainted ; and do not bind your- 
 self for life till you are quite sure. It will 
 not be any thing very dreadful if you never 
 marry at all." 
 
174 
 
 Jane's last sickness. 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 It was not very long before Ann was 
 called on to leave Mrs. Marsden. Jane was 
 seized with a fever, which reduced her at 
 once to the gates of the grave. Notwith- 
 standing the skill of the physicians, and the 
 constant care of Bridget and Ann, she grew 
 worse and worse; and almost all the time 
 she was delirious or flighty, so that they 
 could not talk much with her, or she with 
 them. But one evening, while Ann had laid 
 down to rest awhile, Jane opened her eyes, 
 and knew Bridget, who was standing beside 
 her. She called her by her name. 
 
 "I feel," said she, ** that I am very low, 
 and I do not think I shall ever be well again ; 
 but you need not be distressed. I am not 
 ' For me to die is gain.' " 
 
 " Oh, yes," said Bridget ; " you have al- 
 ways been so good." 
 
 '* Nay," answered Jane ; *' if I had always 
 done my duty, that would have been no more 
 than right ; and I should have to say * I am 
 an unprofitable servant.' But I have not 
 done my duty ; I have sinned very much and 
 very often ; but Christ died for hie ; and for 
 his sake, I trust, I am forgiven, and shall be 
 happy when I leave this world." 
 
175 
 
 Jane's dying counsel- 
 
 She laid still a moment, as if in prayer, 
 and then said, 
 
 '* I should like to bid Ann good-by, while 
 I have my life, and my reason, and my 
 voice." 
 
 Ann vras called, and stood with Bridget by 
 Jane's bed-side. Jane took each of them by 
 the hand. 
 
 " Farewell," said she ; " I hope you both 
 love God, and are trying to do your duty. 
 It will be so much better for you in this life ; 
 and when you come to die — O ! girls," said 
 she, " even if religion made people wretched 
 on earth, they would be wise to be religious ; 
 for all must die, and after death all must live 
 for ever in heaven or in hell. O ! how 
 wretched I should be now, if 1 had never 
 asked the forgiveness of my sins, or tried to 
 do the duties of my station ! But through 
 the grace of God, I have enjoyed a great deal 
 in religion in this world, and I may hope 
 through the mercy of God in Jesus Christ 
 that I shall be among the redeemed ones in his 
 blessed kino-dom." 
 
 Early the next morning, Jane was called 
 to serve God, m that holy city where there 
 is "no more death, neither sorrow, nor sigh- 
 ing." 
 
 One of Jane's last requests was, that Mrs. 
 Raymond would take Ann or Bridget in her 
 place. The offer was first made to Bridget, 
 
176 
 
 Bridget and Ann useful and happy. 
 
 as she was already in the house ; but she re- 
 fused. But when Mrs. Raymond urged her 
 to tell why she did not wish to take the situ 
 ation, she said she would not stand in Ann'? 
 way, when she herself should keep the place 
 so short a time ; for before many -j^miMaths 
 she expected to marry the man about whom 
 she had talked with Jane and Ann, and who, 
 on further acquaintance, proved to be, in 
 every way, worthy of her, 
 
 Ann, therefore, took her aunt's place ; and to 
 this day lives with Mrs. Raymond, and is a 
 most faithful and valuable servant; a bright 
 example to her fellow servants, a blessing to 
 her hrother and sisters, and to all around her ; 
 respectable, happy, and useful, in fulfilling 
 the duties of her station. 
 
 May the grace of God enable all who read 
 her story to do as she did ; that at the great 
 day of account they may hear the divine 
 Master saying, '' Well done, good and faith- 
 ful servant; enter thou into the joy of thv 
 Lord." 
 
 THE END 
 
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