THE BRIDE OF LOVE; 
 
 THE TRUE GREATNESS OF FEMALE HEROISM, 
 
 ETJTH VEEN ON 
 
 
 " Thousands of men breathe, move, and live, pass off the stage of life 
 and are heard of no more. Live for something do good, and leave behind 
 you a monument of virtue !" CHALMERS. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA: 
 
 DUANE RULISON, QUAKER CITY PUBLISHING HOUSE, 
 
 NO. 33 SOUTH THIRD STREET. 
 
 1859. 

 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1859, by 
 DUANE RULISON, 
 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States, in and for 
 the Eastern District of Pennsylvania. 

 
 PREFACE. 
 
 IT may, perchance, have frequently presented itself to 
 the minds of reflecting persons, that it is not always those 
 things, which are held in the highest estimation in the 
 world, that are really the most valuable : that many of 
 those men, who have, by their actions, rendered them- 
 selves conspicuous on the great stage of life, have not 
 always been among those who can be called truly great, 
 when comparing their deeds, and motives of action, with 
 that standard of Divine Truth, which has been given as 
 a guide to men by an all-wise Lord. 
 
 It has been the writer's aim, in the following simple 
 tale, to show that true greatness does not consist only in 
 shining deeds of prowess, or in carrying out the schemes 
 of a lofty-ambition ; but that it may be exhibited just as 
 truly when performing, with humility, firmness and self- 
 denial; that round of daily duties, those " little things," 
 which may alike be found in the path of all. That this 
 little work may be of some use, in leading the young to 
 form a correct estimate of the standard of heroism and 
 virtue, which they should aim at and admire ; that it may 
 prevent some from being led astray by the world's specious 
 applause, and guide them to the Fountain of Truth, is 
 the earnest prayer of their affectionate friend, 
 
 RUTH VERNON. 
 
 2063527
 
 
 \ 
 

 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 The daily Tound, tho common task, 
 Will furnish all \ve ought to ask ; 
 Room to deny ourselves, a road 
 To bring us daily nearer God. KEBLE. 
 
 Her soul, like the transparent air 
 
 That rotes the hills above, 
 Though not of earth, encircles there 
 
 All things with arms of love. LONGFELLOW. 
 
 " FATHER," exclaimed Beatrice Evelyn, looking 
 up with an animated countenance, from the book 
 she was reading, " what an extremely false notion 
 most people have of greatness; it seems to me, 
 that so many of the persons considered in the 
 light of great men by the world, have been very 
 poor heroes ; just forwarding their own selfish pur- 
 poses, with an uncommon disregard of the legality 
 of tho ways and means they employed. Why, I 
 think Henry Martyn was a much greater man than 
 Napoleon, do not you, dear Papa ? it seems much
 
 12 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 more noble to give np country and friends and aL 
 comforts and luxuries, for a missionary life, than it 
 is to squander thousands of lives for personal am 
 bition." 
 
 " Why, I declare, my bonny Bee, you are turning 
 philosopher," said her father, smiling fondly at her, 
 "but I think you are quite right, my child; yon 
 know, the Bible tells us that ' he that ruleth his 
 spirit is better than he that taketh a city,' and we 
 should never take such a false estimate of life, as to 
 think that what makes the greatest eclat in the world 
 is the most useful: a man, yes, and a woman too, 
 may be truly great in performing the simplest 
 duties of life still some are undoubtedly called to 
 more public exhibitions of greatness of character 
 than others. Washington was a great man because 
 he had noble and true motives for those actions 
 which have gained him such renown, and, what is 
 more, so much love and gratitude. I call our little 
 friend, Bessie Hamilton, great, though in a different 
 way, when she refused the offer of an advantageous 
 and a luxurious home, that she might be able to 
 nurse her sick father and take care of her little 
 motherless brothers and sisters." 
 
 "Yes, Papa," said Beatrice, "and I think it 
 harder to bear any harassing and continuous annoy- 
 ances in daily life, than one down-right trouble, do 
 not you ?"
 
 TRIALS REMOVED. 13 
 
 " "Well, my dear, you have known very little aa 
 yet, thank God, of what you call downright trouble; 
 but I think, certainly, that a person, of inferior 
 character of mind, might bear up against the latter, 
 who would be quite overcome under a series of 
 small worries and vexations." 
 
 " Papa, thinking of what is good and beautiful 
 seems to help one to see these trials in their right 
 light ; when we think of 'them only as permitted 
 and probationary just every one of them needed to 
 purify us for a higher and purer existence we can 
 give them their proper place in the scale of im- 
 portance." 
 
 " You are right, my darling," said Mr. Evelyn 
 rising, " but I am going out now ; it is tolerably 
 cool, the sun is nearly setting so I will stroll down 
 to the public library and get a book to read, for I 
 finished mine this morning." 
 
 " Well do, Papa, and I will go into the conserva- 
 tory and water my flowers, they will need refreshing 
 after this hot day." 
 
 Her father's retreating footsteps were heard down 
 the staircase and through the hall, and Beatrice ran 
 lightly across the room into the conservatory which 
 adjoined it. Oh the flowers ! what sweet, gentle 
 ministers of love and goodness they are ; how many 
 sad hearts have been lightened how many care-
 
 14 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 worn faces received a ray of sunshine when gazing 
 on their soft petals and inhaling their sweet perfume j 
 and in a city-life, which was that of Beatrice Evelyn, 
 they seem doubly welcome and dear, when the hum 
 and bustle, and driving and jostling of the world 
 without, press so palpably on the senses all day 
 long, that they seem yet more innocent and precious 
 by the contrast. Beatrice tripped lightly among 
 these, her treasures, refreshing their leaves from a 
 little green watering-can, which was her especial 
 property, and ever and anon confining a tendril 
 which was straying too wantonly from its parent 
 stem, or removing those flowerets which had parted 
 with their beauty and freshness to successors as 
 lovely as they had been. And very fair and pleas- 
 ant she looked herself, as she bent down among the 
 plants, and lovingly pressed her lips against a fresh 
 mossrose-bud. Beatrice was just the sort of girl 
 calculated to win love from those around her ; she 
 had a gentle winning softness of manner, and a face 
 that one loved at first sight, not so much for its 
 striking beauty as for the sweetness of its expression. 
 How true it is, " The light of the body is the eye," 
 and no one, that looked into her dark-gray eyes, 
 could fail to discern high-souled intellect and depth 
 of thought. Of middle height, somewhat, perhaps, 
 above the average, her delicately rounded figure
 
 ME. EVELYN'S CHARACTER. 15 
 
 showing to advantage, in a simple white dress, and 
 her rich brown hair simply braided, she stood a 
 flower among the flowers. 
 
 Beatrice Evelyn was the daughter of a retired 
 merchant in New York ; a man who had found 
 time, amidst the distractions of business, to give a 
 due share of attention to the duties of Christianity, 
 to literary pursuits, and to the education of his 
 family. Although feeling that even in business, 
 what we do, should be done with all our might, and 
 being, in consequence, esteemed among his brother 
 merchants as a man of punctual habits and scrupu- 
 lous accuracy in mercantile affairs, he was far from 
 wishing to make money for money itself; what he 
 acquired he considered as a talent to be employed 
 in the service of God, whether in procuring com- 
 forts for his family, or in promoting His cause in a 
 more direct manner. 
 
 Mr. Evelyn felt that to acquire means to lavish 
 them on luxurious equipages and fashionable living, 
 was inconsistent with his profession as a Christian, 
 and was productive, beside, of no real happiness. 
 He strove to be independent, as far as might be, of 
 the world's opinion, and when his acquaintances 
 said to each other, how extraordinary it was of 
 Evelyn, not to live in a finer house, and keep up a 
 larger establishment, when he was so well off, they 
 little thought how much happier he was in being
 
 16 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 free from the trammels of fashion ; and that pos- 
 sessing, as he did, that " peace which passeth under- 
 standing,?' and a superiority to the things of time 
 his money brought him far more real satisfaction 
 than it did to those who paraded their means in 
 " the world's gay, garish show." 
 
 Some years before our story commences, he had 
 retired from business, shortly after the death of a 
 beloved wife, whose lo^s affected him deeply. He 
 sorrowed not as those that have no hope, for he felt 
 that they had both been bought with the same price 
 and were fellow-heirs of a blissful eternity. The 
 loss, however, of one who has been the dearest 
 companion and friend for so many years, must 
 always be a severe trial to a man of deep feeling ; 
 and Mr. Evelyn, having now a sufficient competen- 
 cy, resolved to retire from business and devote him- 
 self henceforward to the care of the two motherless 
 little girls his Mary had left him, while his duties 
 as a Christian and a citizen were never neglected. 
 He had some time before, joined one of the Presby- 
 terian Churches in the city, and was both a member 
 and an elder. The number of his deeds of charity 
 are known only to Him for whose sake they were 
 done a Christian does not his alms to be seen of 
 men. Of his two children, Beatrice was the eldest 
 Henrietta, the youngest, was still at school, a shore 
 distance from the. city. Beatrice was always a
 
 MBS. GRANT. 17 
 
 thoughtful, meditative child, yet full of feeling and 
 energy ; while Hetty was a wild, impulsive creature, 
 small and dark-eyed, and in complexion like a 
 daughter of Italy. Though somewhat deficient in 
 caution and prudence, she was such a warm-hearted, 
 affectionate girl, that her friends were always ready 
 to forgive the errors she so quickly repented of, and 
 BO freely confessed. She certainly wanted stability 
 of character, though her high spirits made her the 
 life of the house whenever she was at home for the 
 holidays, and often Beatrice and Mr. Evelyn would 
 drive out on a Saturday afternoon and bring the 
 merry and delighted girl to. spend the Sabbath with 
 them all at home. Hetty looked up to Beatrice 
 almost as to a mother, for she suffered her mobile 
 and impulsive nature to submit itself to her sister's 
 guidance ; and,, beside, Beatrice had arrived at the 
 dignified age of twenty, while Hetty was but four- 
 teen. About a year before this time their family 
 circle had received a not very pleasant addition, in 
 the shape of a widowed sister of Mr. Evelyn's, who 
 had, by the death of her husband, been very greatly 
 reduced in her circumstances, and to whom her 
 brother, in the kindness of his heart, offered a home. 
 It certainly required some self-denial to do this, 
 for Mrs. Grant was not at all a pleasant or genial 
 person. She was as unlike her brother as possible ; 

 
 18 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 she seemed to bring no sunshine with her, and 
 though she was really a well-informed woman, she 
 was so strongly prejudiced, and of so obstinate and 
 quarrelsome a disposition, that to live with her 
 peaceably was a hard trial. She seemed as if she 
 had stifled in her bosom all the gentler and softer 
 feelings of nature, and generally managed to take a 
 twisted or crooked view of any matter that was the 
 subject of conversation and yet her friends could 
 make some allowance for all this : her wedded life 
 had been an unhappy one : she had married, late in 
 life, a man who, under protestations of aflection, 
 had married her for the little money she possessed, 
 and then treated her with cool neglect. Her heart 
 had never been warmed by the confidence of mutual 
 love ; and while she was moping out a vague, pur- 
 poseless existence in a retired house in one of the 
 Southern States, her temper and disposition became 
 soured. It was one of our friend Beatrice's crosses 
 to bear with all her aunt's vagaries, and to bear 
 them in a Christian manner, thinking of her 
 charitably, and trying to win her over by gentleness 
 and dutiful attentions. 
 
 But we left Beatrice among her flowers, which, 
 having duly been watered and admired, she threw 
 herself on a low couch, to refresh herself for awhile 
 with the sweet dreamings of Henry Longfellow :
 
 ME. CmciiESTER. 19 
 
 " Lives of great men all remind us, 
 
 We must make our lives sublime, 
 And, departing, leave behind us 
 
 Footprints in the sands of time." 
 
 Oh ! thought Beatrice, does not that just express 
 what I was saying, this afternoon, to dear Papa ? 
 4 we can make our lives sublime.' How I wish that 
 I could live to some purpose that I might be able 
 to do something to help and comfort some one I 
 feel as if I could give my life's energies to help the 
 friendless and weak to do something for God. 
 
 The time will come, it will surely come, Beatrice, 
 if you patiently wait ; by always picking up the 
 grains that are scattered around us, we may gather 
 a good harvest ere our journey be ended. 
 
 " Beatrice ! come here, child," cried a shrill voice 
 at the drawing-room door,." I want yon in the store- 
 room to arrange the dessert for dinner ; you know 
 your father has asked Mr. Ohichester to dine with 
 us, and don't, pray, lie dreaming there ; I call it real 
 waste of time ! you might have been sorting those 
 wools for me, or doing a hundred other things." 
 
 " I will come directly, aunt," said Beatrice, 
 gently, "I was only reading and I will arrange a 
 few flowers in the vases at the same time." 
 
 It seems rather hard, thought she, to leave off 
 just in the middle of my comfortable reading, but 
 it is in these little things that we must ' conquer our
 
 20 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 spirits' and Mr. Chichester, too I wish Papa 
 would not ask him here so often ; perhaps being the 
 son of his late partner, he does it out of kindness. 
 Well, it is like him, dear, good man that he is; but 
 Mr. Chichester is still too attentive for it to be 
 pleasant to meet him, and I feel I could never, never 
 like him. 
 
 Her aunt had gone down stairs again, and as 
 Beatrice followed her, the above thoughts passed 
 through her mind till she was aroused from her 
 reverie by hearing Mrs. Grant again exclaim: 
 
 " Come now, Beatrice, do be quick and arrange 
 these dishes properly, and then you had better go 
 and dress : your father will not like it if you are late 
 for dinner, and, beside, you know your lover, Mr. 
 Chichester, is to be here." 
 
 "He is no lover of mine, aunt, and never will 
 be," returned Beatrice, " I like him tolerably well 
 as a friend, and I think he is intellectual and gentle- 
 manly, but as anything dearer than a friend I could 
 never think of him for a moment." 
 
 "Just to hear you now, child ! why what more 
 would you have; you yourself admit that he is 
 gentlemanly and intellectual and he has lively 
 manners and is good-looking too, as far as I am any 
 judge of such things." 
 
 "This is all very true, aunt," said Beatrice, 
 quietly arranging a dish of peaches, " but he does
 
 A CHRISTIAN HUSBAND. 21 
 
 not satisfy me; he seems to have no principle for 
 his actions ; he talks as if he did things because the 
 world thought it right or proper, or because it ac- 
 corded with his notions of gentlemanly propriety, 
 or else because it gained him the admiration of 
 friends not because it was his duty as a Christian. 
 I feel he could not be depended upon, under all cir- 
 cumstances ; I should not feel sure of him if worldly 
 affairs went wrong or if he were placed in a situa- 
 tion where his duty was opposed to his interests." 
 
 "Dear me, child, who put all this rigmarole of 
 nonsense into your head ? where do you think you 
 would ever find a husband who would be such a 
 pink of propriety and goodness as all that ? But 
 you are always sticking up for something out of the 
 way; I suppose you think yourself better than any 
 one else, and nothing but a pattern minister would 
 suit you 1" 
 
 " Indeed, aunt, your are mistaken ; I do not think 
 it at all essential that a man should be a minister in 
 order to be a Christian, but I do know that I never 
 will marry any one whom I do not believe to be a 
 child of God : believe me, Aunt Louisa, I do not say 
 this from any feeling of pride, or from wishing to 
 think too highly of myself, but I do think that 
 Christians should be more mindful than they often 
 are, of the injunction of Paul, not to be ' unequally
 
 22 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 yoked together with unbelievers.' I am sure that 
 those who do so suffer their earthly affections to 
 overcome their sense of love to Christ must suffer 
 many, many miseries and trials from opposition of 
 opinion, and want of mutual sympathy in the best 
 and highest things." 
 
 " Well, I am sure, I only hope you may find a 
 husband to your taste," said Mrs. Grant as she 
 turned to leave the store-room. " But I know more 
 of the world than yourself, and what most men are, 
 and I think you will run a great chance of being an 
 old maid, if you are so particular." 
 
 ""Well, Aunt, I am not such a disbeliever in good- 
 ness as all that: I do know enough of the world, 
 to know that there are few men who exactly come 
 up to the standard of what I could admire and love 
 but still, I believe, there are many who are earnest 
 followers of God, even in their youth I do not 
 believe in the principle of marrying a man in the 
 hope of converting him; that is often a mere 
 temptation of our own evil hearts, and but too often 
 brings the fruits of bitter repentance with it after- 
 ward." 
 
 " Well, now let us come and dress for dinner," 
 said Mrs. Grant, "I suppose you mean well, but 
 you have uncommonly queer notions; however, 
 1 suppose your father encourages you in them. I
 
 A CHKISTIAN HUSBAND. 23 
 
 think he is nearly as crazy as yourself, on some 
 points." 
 
 " Oh, Aunt!" said Beatrice, as she slowly followed 
 Mrs. Grant up stairs, " I am sure, dear Papa only 
 wishes me to think what is good and right I wish 
 I were like him 1"
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Who in life's battle firm doth stand, 
 Shall hear Hope's tender blossoms 
 
 Into the Silent Land. LONGFELLOW 
 
 BEATRICE had scarcely finished dressing when she 
 heard her father's and Mr. Chichester's voices in 
 the hall, and in a few minntes afterward the dinner- 
 bell rang. As she was going down stairs, she met 
 her father just coming out of his room, standing on 
 a little landing between the two flights of steps. 
 
 " Well, my bonny Bee," said he, fondly kissing 
 her, " what is my little philosopher looking so grave 
 about 1 eh! Tell me, my child, isn't everything 
 going smoothly this evening ?" 
 
 " Yes, dear Papa, tolerably so. I had only been 
 thinking of something Aunt Louisa and I were talk- 
 ing about a little time ago. Papa," said she, paus- 
 ing, " you will never make me do anything contrary 
 to what I wish I mean contrary to what I think 
 right will you 2" 
 
 "No, my dear, certainly not but what do you 
 mean?" 
 
 (24)
 
 DINNER. 25 
 
 " O ! never mind, Papa," said Beatrice smiling, 
 "now I have your promise;" and she ran quickly 
 down before him till she reached the hall. 
 
 " I say, you foolish Bee, to take flight in that 
 way," said Mr. Evelyn as he went down stairs, 
 " come back you little silly thing and speak to me 
 directly." His daughter came back rather reluct- 
 antly, and as he looked into her face, he said, " you 
 weren't thinking anything about Mr. Chichester, 
 were you, Bee ? Bless you, child, I am not such a 
 foolish man as to wish any child of mine to marry 
 against her inclinations; and I told Chichester as 
 much, this afternoon, as we came along ; that after 
 what you said to him the other day, he might con- 
 sider the matter settled ; although we should be 
 happy to receive him as a friend for ' auld acquaint- 
 ance' sake." 
 
 " Thank you, thank you, dear Papa; how shall I 
 ever repay you for all your kind indulgence to 
 me?" 
 
 " Indeed, dear one, you are such a treasure to me, 
 that I do not know any man, now, to whom I should 
 be willing to give my bonny Bee, so I must clip her 
 wings, if she wants to fly." 
 
 " Indeed, dear Papa, there is no danger, I assure 
 you," said Beatrice laughing, " but let us make 
 haste to the drawing-room I see Socrates coming to 
 announce dinner."
 
 86 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 Eespecting the incidents of dinner-time, we shal. 
 remark little, except that Mr. Chichester's conversa- 
 tion was unusually agreeable and lively ; he seemed 
 to think too well of himself to be willing to believe 
 that Beatrice was indifferent toward him, and 
 hoping still to ingratiate himself with her, he 
 directed all his most lively sallies in that quarter; 
 while poor Beatrice experienced somewhat of that 
 awkwardness of feeling, natural to a young woman, 
 who is still associating with a man who has sought 
 her hand, and been refused. 
 
 She was not destined, however, to have to bear 
 with his company and attentions all the evening, for 
 just after dessert was placed on the table, Socrates, 
 their old colored servant, softly opened the door and 
 said that there was a poor woman in the kitchen 
 who wanted to speak with Missy Evelyn. 
 
 " Who is it, Socrates," said Mr. Evelyn ; " go and 
 eee what she wants, and come and tell us." 
 
 " Indeed, Missy," said Socrates, when he returned, 
 ' it seems quite a referential subject-like, as she 
 wants to tell you. She will not 'municate anything, 
 BO, perhaps, you would do yourself the favor to step 
 out and see her ?" 
 
 Smiling at Socrates' eloquence, Beatrice rose, 
 Apologizing for leaving the table, and saying she 
 would return as soon as she had seen what the poor 
 wanted.
 
 BIDDY KTAN. 27 
 
 On entering the kitchen Beatrice saw a woman 
 standing by the fire, whose appearance denoted con- 
 siderable poverty, and whose care-worn countenance 
 plainly told that she had seen more than the little 
 ills of life. 
 
 "Ah ! Biddy, is that you ? Why I have not seen 
 you for a long time ; why have you never been to see 
 me before 2" said Beatrice, after returning the poor 
 Irishwoman's salutation. 
 
 " And sure, Miss, it 's yourself vas good to us in 
 the faver we had, but since my ould man 's took to 
 the say-faring life, it's meself that's intirely took 
 up with minding the childers at home and workin' 
 for them night an' day, and I would not be beggin', 
 my swate lady, vhile I can work. But it's not for 
 meself I 'm come to ye this time. First, Miss, I '11 
 tell ye that my Pat's come home from the "West 
 Injies: his ship came into harbor yesterday fore- 
 noon, an' faith he's at home now this blessed minnit, 
 an' glad enough ve be to see him. And it's by the 
 marcy of God I ever did see my ould man's face 
 ag'in, for when the vessel was off the coast of Flo- 
 rida, some vicked wretches there on the shore, my 
 lady, put out a false light to decoy the poor sailors 
 and make 'em think it was a lighthouse, that they 
 might be wrecked, and then the varmints could steal 
 wbativer they could lay hands on. "Well ! to make 
 my story short, the poor ship struck on the rocks,
 
 28 GKEATJNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 sure enough, and many of the people in her were 
 dhrowned and among 'ein a fine French merchant 
 
 who was com in' from the island of St St , 
 
 some o' the blessed saints, Miss " 
 
 "St. Thomas, perhaps, Biddy," said Beatrice, 
 smiling. 
 
 " Sure enough, Miss, an' that 's the very word ; 
 but as I was going to say, this 'ere poor jintleman 
 had with him a little slip of a daughter, about ten 
 years old, that he was bringin' with him to New 
 York, and the poor little thing was just cast ashore, 
 half dhrowned. My Pat, for pity's sake, took care 
 of her. Well ! Miss, somehow or other, they all 
 traveled to some place where another ship was 
 found, which brought them all safe home, (glory be 
 to God !) and here 's my Pat brought this poor little 
 foreigner home, and she 's now lying in our house 
 on a little bed of my Bessie's, and niver a word of 
 her lingo can we understand ; it 's a vender so rich 
 a man didn't have his child taught some dacent 
 tongue scace one blessed word she says that ve 
 can make out the maning of !" 
 
 "Well! I suppose you want me to come and see 
 her, Biddy 2" said Beatrice, " perhaps I can make 
 something out of the poor child, and she must be a 
 charge to you." 
 
 "O! niver spake o' that Miss, tho' i' faith I should 
 be glad intirely to know what to do with the little
 
 REFLECTIONS. 29 
 
 one. She is just crying fit to break her heart all 
 the time, calling for her Papa, and he lying cold 
 and dead beneath the salt say (God rest his soul in 
 peace!) So if you could kindly coine back with me, 
 mistress, darlint, I would thank you kindly." 
 
 u Well! Biddy, I must go in and ask Papa, I am 
 afraid it is almost too late to go as far as Hawthorn 
 street to-night, but I will come early in the morning 
 if I cannot come now. But tell me, Biddy, what 
 your husband's surname is, in case we should not 
 find your house easily; it is getting late and you had 
 better not wait, your children will be wanting you." 
 
 " Sure, mistress, an' all the world knows Pat 
 Ryan, an' a dashin' fine man he is too," said Biddy, 
 her face lighting up with honest affection. "It's 
 No. 13, Miss, our house is ; it 's but a poor place to 
 ask the like o' you to come to. Good-night, Miss." 
 
 There is as much warm-hearted kindness and 
 self-denying usefulness in Pat's home of poverty, as 
 there is in many rich houses, and far more happi- 
 ness, too, thought Beatrice, as she re-crossed the hall 
 and opened the door of the dining-room, where they 
 were still sitting at table, awaiting her re-appear- 
 ance. 
 
 "Well! my child, what has detained you so 
 long," said Mr. Evelyn ; " I was beginning to fear 
 the beggar-woman was some fairy and had be- 
 witched you away."
 
 30 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 " Indeed, Papa, she was no fairy, but poor Biddy 
 Ryan, whom you may remember having relieved 
 several times last winter, when her family were sick 
 with fever ;" and sitting down, Beatrice, in a few 
 words, recounted the substance of the poor woman's 
 narration. 
 
 " Well ! Miss Evelyn," said Mr. Chichester, when 
 she had concluded, " I do not see why, because that 
 sailor is foolish enough to burden himself with that 
 little French child, you should plague yourself about 
 her. Do give us some music this evening, and 
 pray do not think of running away." 
 
 "I am sure," returned Beatrice, "that poor Biddy 
 would not have come for me this evening, had she 
 not wanted my assistance and thought that the poor 
 child would be comforted by my going." 
 
 " Oh ! the poor are always so inconsiderate," 
 said Mr. Chichester, "coming at such a time of the 
 evening as this, just when we were beginning to 
 enjoy ourselves." 
 
 " I do not think we have any right to think about 
 enjoying ourselves, when we hear of a fellow-creature 
 in distress," returned Beatrice ; " I am sure I should 
 feel much happier, too, if Papa would allow me to 
 go to-night. I can take Jane with me, and Socrates 
 can follow us." 
 
 "I will go with you myself, my child," returned 
 her father, " that is, if Mr. Chichester will excuse
 
 BENEVOLENT YISIT. 31 
 
 us for a few minutes ; the moon is up and the even- 
 ing air is delightfully cool and pleasant ; the dis- 
 tance is quite short, too." 
 
 " O ! pray, do not let me detain you, Mr. Evelyn," 
 said the young man, rising; "I should be exceed- 
 ingly sorry to interfere with so philanthropic an 
 errand " and his tone was slightly piqued as he 
 spoke, for he did not like to perceive that Beatrice 
 so readily sacrificed his company. 
 
 " My aunt will entertain you till we come back, 
 Mr. Chichester," said Beatrice, " and you will find 
 the latest numbers of the European magazines lying 
 on the table in the drawing-room, if you choose to 
 look them over." 
 
 Mr. Chichester bowed. 
 
 " "Well ! Beatrice, I suppose you will be bringing 
 some horrid disease or other home with you," said 
 her aunt ; " do, pray, put a piece of camphor in your 
 mouth, and avoid touching those little dirty Irish 
 brats as much as possible. I can 't think how peo- 
 ple of refinement can bear to go into such places 
 for my part, I never could !" 
 
 " O ! Aunt," said Beatrice, her color rising as she 
 spoke, " how can you say so ? Why did not our 
 Saviour give us a special charge to remember and 
 take care of the poor for His sake ? Surely, we who 
 have received so many of the good things of this 
 life, should be willing to help those who have so
 
 32 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 few; and beside, poor Biddy's place, though cer- 
 tainly not furnished in the handsomest manner, ia 
 always clean and neat ; so clean, that even you would 
 not be afraid to enter it." 
 
 " Well ! my dear, my vocation does not lie that 
 way. I find enough to do to attend to myself and 
 my own concerns, without meddling with those of 
 other people. But come, Mr. Chich ester, let us 
 adjourn to the drawing-room and await the return 
 of these truants." 
 
 As Beatrice turned to leave the room, she sighed 
 as she thought that her aunt knew nothing of the true 
 happiness of ministering to the wants of others, and 
 coming out of the little narrow circle of one's own 
 selfish cares and feelings, and participating in the 
 throbs which agitate the pulses of the great world 
 without. 
 
 The walk to Hawthorn street seemed but too 
 short; the streets Mr. Evelyn and his daughter had 
 to traverse lay calm in the quiet moonlight, and 
 the few passers-by seemed like ghostly visitants to a 
 world asleep ; the part of the city they lived in was 
 quite in the suburbs, and many of the houses had 
 pleasant gardens before and around them, where the 
 flowers were now shedding forth their sweet odors, 
 as if rejoicing in the stillness and the dewy moon- 
 light. Branching off from these streets was a stiff- 
 looking row of tail brick houses, each of which was
 
 THE FRENCH CHILD. 33 
 
 tenanted by several families, and in a couple of rooms 
 in one of these, lived Biddy Ryan and her six 
 children. Softly ascending a narrow staircase, Mr. 
 Evelyn tapped at the door, and it was opened with 
 a smile of grateful recognition by Biddy herself, who 
 had her youngest hope in her arms " Sure an' it's 
 mighty good of ye, sir, to be bringing the young 
 lady here to-night," said she, "but come in, ye 
 must excuse the place looking as it does, but it 's 
 but a small place for eight of us. Pat an' the six 
 childer an' meself, beside the little foreigner lady," 
 and she pointed to a little bed in the corner, where, 
 apart from the other children, lay a delicate-looking 
 little girl, who. was staring in much astonishment at 
 the strangers. In a bed made on the floor lay, fast 
 asleep, four rosy little Paddies, the very pictures of 
 health, while the eldest boy stood by his father's 
 side, near a small table, apparently having been 
 engaged in showing off the progress he had made in 
 learning during his father's absence. The sailor 
 rose and bowed, and placed a. chair for Mr. Evelyn, 
 who entered into conversation with him, while Bea- 
 trice approached the little French child's bed and 
 addressed to her a few words of kindness in her 
 native tongue : 
 
 " Est-ceque vous parlez vraiment ma langue, 
 Mademoiselle. Ah ! que j'en suis bien-aise," said 
 the little one, her dark eyes brightening.
 
 34 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 "Yes," replied Beatrice, in French, "but now you 
 must tell me all you want, and you must not cry 
 any more, but be a good child and 1 will try and 
 make you happy." 
 
 " Mais mon pauvre Papa, ou est-il done ? il n ; y a 
 personne ici que je connais, et je suis si miserable, 
 ah ! oni, si, si miserable !" 
 
 " Your Papa can never come back to you any 
 more, my child," said Beatrice gently, "God has 
 taken him home to another world : but have you no 
 other friends? try and remember all you can and 
 tell me, and then, perhaps, we may be able to send 
 you back to them some day." 
 
 The little girl then explained to Beatrice, in sim- 
 ple language, that her name was Blanche de Tre- 
 monille ; that her father had left ' la belle France' 
 about six months before and had come out with her 
 to reside at the house of a brother, who was a mer 
 chant at St. Thomas, with whom he had entered 
 into partnership, and he was going to New York 
 about some business matters when the fatal accident 
 occurred. She said that her mother had died before 
 they left France; but that her aunt, in the West 
 Indies, was very kind to her and gave her many, 
 many pretty things, and that she had a colored nurse 
 named Jeannette, to wait upon her, who could speak 
 French. 
 
 "Mais, Mademoiselle, ces personnes ici sont si
 
 35 
 
 barbares ! ah ! si barbares ! et il fait tant f Void dans 
 cette maison ! ah ! quo ferai-je done ?" and she burst 
 into a passion of tears. 
 
 " Blanche, Blanche, you must not cry so, that is 
 naughty," said Beatrice, " these poor people have 
 been very kind to you, and taken care of you when 
 you would have been drowned, or, perhaps, perished 
 for want of food. Do you think, if I took you 
 home with me, you would be a good child ? You 
 see I can speak your language and so can that gen- 
 tleman, too," said she, pointing to Mr. Evelyn, 
 " and we will take care of you till we can send you 
 to your aunt but you must not fret and be discon- 
 tented." 
 
 " Ah ! Mademoiselle, je ne pleurai pas ; je serai 
 tout-a-fait heureuse avec vous." 
 
 After obtaining her father's permission and having 
 a few words of consultation with Pat and his wife, 
 Beatrice arranged that the phaeton should come for 
 little Blanche the following morning, as it was evi- 
 dent that the poor child would never feel at home 
 where she was. So it was settled ; and after com- 
 forting Blanche with a promise of sending, or per- 
 haps, coming for her herself early in the morning, 
 Beatrice followed her father down the staircase, and 
 they went rapidly home. 
 
 We need not enlarge on Mrs. Grant's exclama- 
 tions of surprise and astonishment, when she heard
 
 36 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 that the little French child was to become an in 
 mate of her brother's house of course, she thought 
 it madness and folly, and a plague and an unheard- 
 of thing, but finding Mr. Evelyn firm on the sub- 
 ject, and, in fact, making very light of the matter 
 altogether, she contented herself at last, with saying, 
 that she washed her hands of it and would have 
 nothing to do with the child she would not be 
 plagued with her all day that Beatrice had brought 
 it upon herself and as she brewed, so she must 
 bake. 
 
 " "Well, Aunt, I do not fancy it will be any great 
 charge," said Beatrice ; " she is evidently a gentle- 
 man's child, and will know how to behave and she 
 will be quite an amusement to me, now Hetty is at 
 Bchool." 
 
 Mr. Chichester had been sitting on one of the 
 lounges, reading, when Beatrice and her father 
 entered, and now finding that the little girl's destina- 
 tion seemed disposed of, he begged Beatrice to give 
 them some music. 
 
 " Yes do, my darling," said her father, who was 
 refreshing himself with a cup of coffee after his 
 walk, " give us some of my old favorites, ' the Last 
 rose of Summer,' or some airs from Nonna." 
 
 "Hem! if Hetty were at home, we might run the 
 chance of getting some good music," said Mrs. 
 Grant; " I do not like Beatrice's style it is too slow 

 
 THE CONTROVERSY. 37 
 
 and sentimental I like a good rattling, dashing 
 piece, for my part." 
 
 Beatrice wisely forbore making any reply, and 
 her father smiled fondly at her as she seated herself 
 at the piano, which Mr. Chichester had already 
 opened. She felt ruffled for a moment, but an 
 earnest inward petition made her feel all right again, 
 and the thought rose in her mind, why should I 
 feel annoyed if my music pleases dear Papa? 
 Beatrice sang her father's favorite song, and several 
 others, before she finished and a sweet voice she 
 had, soft and melodious touching the feelings and 
 gratifying the taste : it was the kind of music which 
 seems to do one's heart good. She had just finished 
 Miss Davis's beautiful song of ' Ruth,' and had 
 risen from the piano, and sat down near her father, 
 when Mr. Chichester said : 
 
 " Do you ever attend any of the Catholic churches 
 in the city, on Sundays, Miss Evelyn ? I often go 
 there because of the beautiful music." 
 
 " No, I never do," said Beatrice, " and I own, I 
 should be sorry to spend my Sabbaths in going to a 
 church where I knew that doctrines contrary to my 
 belief would be preached. I am exceedingly fond 
 of good music ; but I think Sunday should be spent 
 in serving God; and I should not imagine that 
 attending a Roman Catholic church would conduce 
 to devotional feelings."
 
 38 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 " "Well, now, do you know," replied Mr. Chiches- 
 ter, " I sometimes feel quite solemnized, when I 
 hear the sound of the organ rolling and echoing 
 through the magnificent arches of the Cathedral; 
 and the whole service is conducted in a very impres- 
 sive manner, and one well calculated to influence 
 the senses, and by that means, I suppose, to raise 
 the heart to heaven." 
 
 " More likely to chain it down to earth, Chiches- 
 ter," said Mr. Evelyn ; " I should think that amidst 
 all that paraphernalia of robes and vestments, and 
 all those bowings and genuflexions, people were very 
 apt to lose sight of the God who is to be worshiped in 
 Spirit and in Truth. I would not attend a Roman 
 Catholic or a Unitarian church, for the same reason 
 that I do not attend the theater because, I believe 
 that I should hear error taught there, and that it 
 would be inconsistent both with my opinions and 
 my feelings to be present." 
 
 "Well, I think there are many excellent persons 
 who are Roman Catholics," said Mrs. Grant ; " I 
 have read, myself, of several whose lives were cer- 
 tainly most exemplary." 
 
 "I grant that, Louisa," said her brother; "I 
 believe there have been hundreds of pious persons, 
 who were Romanists; but it is the system of the 
 church to which I object not so much to particular 
 individuals ; though these have all held errors, more
 
 THE CONTROVERSY. 89 
 
 or less, yet they may have had no opportunity of 
 learning the truth and of obtaining a clearer light 
 and thus, doubtless, been accepted before God. 
 Wherever an error exists, I would not think lightly 
 of that error, but I would deal clemently and gently 
 with the persons holding it. What is contrary to 
 the Bible, we should withstand with our whole soul. 
 Gavazzi's lectures, in this country, have done much 
 to warn people against the encroachments of the 
 Romish Church, and to rouse them to a sense of 
 their danger in allowing the Romanists to gain a foot- 
 ing for give them an inch and they will take an ell." 
 
 " O ! Papa, I felt as if I could have listened to 
 that noble Gavazzi for hours," said Beatrice ; " his 
 eloquence was so impassioned ; his power of argu- 
 ment so clear and convincing, and his whole appear- 
 ance so striking. O ! it is something great, when a 
 man gives up his position in that haughty church, 
 to become an exile from his native land, for the sake 
 of the glorious Truth, which alone can make poor 
 Italy free or enable our own America to remain so I" 
 and Beatrice's eyes kindled with enthusiasm as she 
 spoke. 
 
 " Well, for my part," said Mrs. Grant, " I have 
 heard a good many things said against Gavazzi ; I 
 must say, I am always cautious to admire:. I have 
 no doubt the man makes a great deal of money 
 going about as he does."
 
 40 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 " My dear Louisa," said Mr. Evelyn, " why what 
 an unreasonable woman you are ! if you go on con- 
 demning everybody in that cynical way, there will 
 soon be no one left to admire. Don't you know, 
 that whenever a man puts himself forward in the 
 cause of truth, or, in fact, in any good cause whatso- 
 ever, a whole swarm of enemies are sure to rise up 
 directly and begin to attack his motives and slander 
 his conduct ? but in the present case, I should think 
 the Padre's actions spoke for themselves ; he has 
 given up his home, and his country, and his friends, 
 and is now subject to many persecutions and annoy- 
 ances; look, for instance, at the attack made on him 
 in Montreal ; and as for money, why, I believe, he has 
 several converted priests in London and elsewhere, 
 depending on him for their support and the loss of 
 his means of subsistence, in his own country, does 
 not go for nothing. I think, as long as it is in our 
 power, we should endeavor to judge charitably of 
 every man ; and not, because one man comes boldly 
 forward from the common herd, and dares to attack 
 old prejudices and to speak energetically against 
 crying errors, immediately begin calling out: O 
 dear! he must be acting from some underhand 
 motive I don't believe he means what he says." 
 
 Mr. Chichester then rose to take leave, and when 
 he had gone, Mr. Evelyn rang the bell to summon 
 the servants to family prayers. These were con- 

 
 FAMILY PKAYER. 41 
 
 ducted, in his household, in a manner suitable to the 
 family of a Christian. Mr. Evelyn first read a por- 
 tion of Scripture, and explained, in simple and clear 
 language, the meaning and practical signification of 
 the passage. The whole family then joined in a 
 hymn, which Beatrice led, accompanying the voices 
 on the piano; and then, all kneeling, Mr. Evelyn 
 offered an earnest prayer, expressive of their mutual 
 wants and mutual causes of thankfulness to God.
 
 CHAPTER Hi. 
 
 TO A CHILD. 
 
 " Nearer I seem to God, when looking on thee . 
 'Tis ages since He made His youngest star ; 
 His hand was on thee as 'twere yesterday, 
 Thou late^ Revelation ! Silver stream, 
 Breaking with laughter from the Lake Divina 
 "Whence all things flow." ALEXANDEB SMITH. 
 
 THE next morning, when Beatrice awoke, almost 
 her first thought was of little Blanche: poor child, 
 she thought, how lonely and strange she must feel. 
 I know she will be glad to see me again, and have 
 some one to whom she can speak a word. I wish 
 Hetty were here, she would be such a lively play- 
 fellow for her poor little motherless thing. With 
 these thoughts in her mind, Beatrice rose and 
 dressed quickly, and as soon as breakfast was con- 
 cluded, she set out for Hawthorn street in the 
 phaeton, accompanied by Socrates. 
 
 Little Blanche was watching for htr from the win- 
 dow; and uttering an exclamation of delight, sha 
 
 rushed to the top of the stairs to meet Beatrice and 
 ( 42 )
 
 THE DEPASTURE. 43 
 
 threw her arms round her neck, calling her, her 
 chere, chere amie. 
 
 " An' sure, an' is it strangling the lady ye 'd be," 
 said Bridget; "-what for should ye be thinking I 
 wouldn't offer her a cheer meself. Won't you plase 
 to walk in, Miss sure an' how should a poor West 
 Ingin like that, that can't spake a word of English 
 nor Irish either, know any manners ?" 
 
 " The poor child was only showing her delight in 
 seeing me, Biddy," said Beatrice, smiling ; " but I 
 will come in while you put up what clothes she has." 
 
 " Clothes, Miss ! an' is it clothes intirely you 're 
 maning ? sorra an' niver a blessed bit o' clothes has 
 she got, but them you see on her ; it was a marcy 
 she was saved from being dhrowned at all, at all ! 
 there wasn't much time to think o' her clothes." 
 
 "Really, Biddy, I was very stupid not to think 
 of that," said Beatrice, "but she looks so nice and 
 neat, that I was forgetting that what she has on 
 must be all her wardrobe." 
 
 "Ye see, Mistress," said Biddy, "they're good 
 and fine clothes, but having but one set of 'em, I 
 was oblijed to wash 'em all out yisterday, and sorra 
 niver a bit o' my childers' duds would she have^n 
 her while they vas a-drying, but she jist lay still in 
 the bed yonder, looking at me working. Well! 
 well! 'Miss, tho' her tongue does seem a bit queer 
 to me, my heart warms toward the poor child." 
 4
 
 a GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 "She cannot thank you now, Biddy, for herself, 
 but I will thank you for her, and we will come, some 
 day soon, and see you again ; and I will try, before 
 then, to teach Blanche enough of English to tell you 
 how grateful she feels for all you have done for her." 
 
 " An' sure the poor darlint's welcome, intirely 
 welcome ; an' I wish it was more we could have done 
 for her. Come now, shake hands with me before you 
 go, little Missy, ye can that do at laste, I suppose," 
 said Biddy. 
 
 " Serrez-lui la main," said Beatrice to Blanche, 
 who did as she was told, and having received a kiss 
 on the forehead from the good motherly Irishwoman 
 she gladly followed Beatrice down stairs to the phae- 
 ton, which soon deposited them at home. 
 
 " Wait a moment, Socrates," said Beatrice, as 
 she jumped lightly out and helped Blanche to get 
 down ; "perhaps I shall want to go into the city to 
 do some shopping, so you had better not take the 
 harness off President, just yet." 
 
 " I '11 wait here all day long, if Missy likes," was 
 the old man's reply. 
 
 Mr. Evelyn met them in the hall. " Well, Bee ! 
 hefe you are ; I thought it was about time you were 
 coming ; I wanted to speak with you about some 
 arrangements concerning your little charge, before I 
 go into the city, where I have to attend a meeting 
 of the educational board to-day."
 
 YOUTHFUL REMEMBRANCES. -45 
 
 " Yes ! Papa," said Beatrice, " let us go into the 
 library, and there we can settle it all quietly." 
 
 "Papa!" said little Blanche, heaving a deep sigh, 
 " ah! si c' etait mon Papa! mais il etait plus grand 
 et il avait les cheveux plus noirs que ce monsieur la, 
 et de plus il m' aurait baise." 
 
 "No, I am not your Papa, poor little one," said 
 Mr. Evelyn, as he seated himself on a library chair, 
 and took Blanche on his knee, kissing her warmly 
 as he did so, "but I will be your Papa, till I 
 can send you back to your uncle in the West Indies, 
 and I will take care of you, now your own Papa is 
 dead." 
 
 " Ah ! mon pauvre Papa," said Blanche, " je sais 
 bien qu' il est mort, mais je ne puis pas le croire." 
 
 After some consultation, it was agreed that Bea- 
 trice should go into the city with her father to pur- 
 chase some clothes for Blanche, and that on their 
 return, Mr. Evelyn should write to Monsieur de 
 Tremonille, letting him know of his brother's death 
 and his niece's safety. 
 
 So it was arranged, but Blanche had to go with 
 them, for she begged not to be left in that " grande 
 maison " by herself; and she did not much fancy the 
 appearance of Mrs. Grant, who came into the library 
 while she was waiting for Beatrice, who had run 
 out of the room to make up her list of commissions 
 and in truth, Mrs. Grant did not receive her very
 
 4:6 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 cordially, for a cool nod and a survey from head to 
 foot, were all Blanche received. 
 
 How a word of kindness wins a child's heart ! 
 and how quick children are to perceive the feelings 
 of grown-up persons toward them ; they seem to 
 know instinctively where there is love and sunshine, 
 and to cling to it and open their hearts to its warmth. 
 
 "When they returned from the city, it was past 
 three o'clock ; Mr. Evelyn had been detained some 
 time at the school-meeting. 
 
 Beatrice took Blanche through the house, that she 
 might get to feel at home, and then led her into the 
 conservatory to see her favorite flowers. Blanche 
 said she wished Mademoiselle Evelyn could but see 
 the " fleurs magnifiques " of the West Indies, and 
 the cocoa-nut trees, and the pretty little humming- 
 birds, and the beautiful bright butterflies. Sitting 
 down on a rustic seat, Beatrice took Blanche on her 
 knee, and suffered her to expatiate to her heart's 
 content on all the tropical beauties she had seen, 
 and on the manner of life at her Aunt's house, 
 which, she said, was up on "les hautes montagnes," 
 and that it was quite pleasantly cool there, and not 
 burning hot, as it was on the plains. Beatrice 
 began to lose herself in dreams of sunny lands and 
 bright verdure, when she remembered that talking 
 would not make Blanche's clothes ; and taking her 
 hand she went up stairs and sought Jane, her own
 
 VACATION TERM. 47 
 
 and Mrs. Grant's maid, with whose assistance she 
 managed to cut out a frock and some of the most 
 necessary articles of linen, and leaving Jane part of 
 the work, she took the rest down to the drawing- 
 room and set busily to work, ensconcing herself in a 
 corner of. the sofa, plying her needle diligently, while 
 Blanche prattled gayly, jumping up every now and 
 then as some fresh object of attention in the room 
 struck her eye. 
 
 The next day was Saturday, and Hetty was fetched 
 from school to spend the Sunday at home. Blanche 
 was rather in awe of her at first, but a speedy friend- 
 ship was soon formed between them, and indeed, 
 there was something of a similarity between them 
 both were naturally impulsive and lively, and both 
 full of buoyant spirits. 
 
 Blanche was not the kind of child to be in the 
 way, at all ; she seemed, instinctively, to know 
 when she was not wanted, and would sit quietly by 
 herself, with a book of pictures or an old doll of 
 Hetty's, by the hour together: she had a great 
 reverence and love for Beatrice ; and never dreamed 
 of disputing her word indeed, her sweet and plia- 
 ble disposition seemed to gain her general love, 
 and even Mrs. Grant was a little thawed toward 
 her. In a few days she began to speak a little 
 broken English, which was a source of great amuse- 
 ment to them all ; and Socrates frequently had to
 
 48 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 dart from the dining-room, while waiting at dinner, 
 to give vent to explosions of laughter he said the 
 little French lady was so "pecooliar in her discourse." 
 
 Things rolled quietly on. The next Saturday was 
 the commencement of Hetty's vacation term, and 
 gladly was the time looked forward to and welcomed. 
 Many were now the delightful excursions and drives 
 to the country, enjoyed by the girls ; and the days 
 slipped rapidly by, till the time came for an answer 
 to be received from the "West Indies. 
 
 One morning, Mr. Evelyn entered the breakfast- 
 room, holding a letter in his hands, and with some 
 concern depicted on his countenance. Seating him- 
 self at the table, he said, he had just heard from a 
 .gentleman, a merchant of St. Thomas, who said 
 that Monsieur Eugene de Tremonville had died the 
 preceding week of a rapid attack of fever, and that 
 his widow was still so much overcome by his loss, 
 that she had felt unable to write, herself, respecting 
 his niece, but that she was very anxious to have the 
 little girl sent to her as soon as possible, being re- 
 solved to adopt her as her own, and that, further, 
 could Mr. Evelyn procure any person on whom ha 
 could place sufficient reliance to trust with the charge 
 of the child, they should receive a handsome remu^ 
 neration for their trouble. 
 
 Blanche's face looked very grave, wnen it was 
 explained to her that her uncle Eugene was dead
 
 THE LETTER. 49 
 
 "Ah!" exclaimed she, " que ferai-je done mainten- 
 ant pour un Papa ! and if I go chez ma tante, Mr. 
 Evelyn will not be my Papa non-plus." 
 
 " God will be your father and your friend, dear 
 Blanche," said Beatrice, " if you love Him and trust 
 in Him." 
 
 "Yes," replied Blanche; "and I do love Him, 
 for my own real Papa is gone to live with Him, and 
 I know he loved Him for he used to talk to rae 
 about God and Heaven every day." 
 
 "But really," said Mr. Evelyn, "I do not see 
 what is to be done with the poor child. How can 
 I, possibly, find anybody going from New York to 
 St. Thomas, who would be willing, even for money, 
 to take charge of a little girl all that distance ; and, 
 beside, I should not like to trust any one with her. 
 but an old friend of my own, or unless there were a 
 lady going and such an opportunity might not 
 occur for a year or more." 
 
 " Well, Papa, we will take care of her till such a 
 time comes," said Hetty ; " I want to teach Blanche 
 to speak English well, before she goes." 
 
 " Well, my dear," said Mr. Evelyn, " I will con- 
 sider the subject ; I feel that her widowed aunt will 
 want her, and that it would be a great satisfaction 
 to me to know that she was safe among her friends. 
 Inclosed in the letter," continued Mr. Evelyn, 
 ' came a remittance of money, to a considerable
 
 50 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 amount, from Madame do Tremonille, and a mes- 
 sage from her, begging me to procure with it such 
 things as were necessary for her niece, both during 
 her sojourn in America and also for the voyage ; 
 and expressing a wish, at the same time, that part 
 of it might be laid out in purchasing some useful 
 present for the family of the poor Irish sailor, whom 
 I mentioned, when I wrote, as having been so instru- 
 mental in saving her life at the time of the ship- 
 wreck. I know Blanche will be glad to take a pre- 
 sent to poor Pat Ryan, who was so good to her 
 will she not ?" he said, as he stroked her soft, dark 
 curls in passing across the room to the library. 
 
 " Yes sir," said Blanche, " I should be very glad 
 to make him and his little children un peu com- 
 fortable." 
 
 " "Well then, girls; settle what the present is to 
 be, among yourselves ; and let me know the result." 
 
 "Come Blanche," said Hetty, as her father left 
 the room " you and I and Beatrice will go and hold 
 a grand consultation ; come, let us all go into the 
 conservatory it will be cozy there." 
 
 Many were the things suggested and then relin- 
 quished as unfeasible, by each of the trio ; Blanche's 
 selections, by reason of her youth and inexperience, 
 being, of course, the wildest and most unsuitable. 
 It was finally settled, however, that Pat should have 
 a silver watch and a new pea-jacket, both of which
 
 EIDE TO TOWN. 51 
 
 would be useful to him at sea ; that Biddy should 
 rejoice in the possession of a brown stuff gown and 
 a bright plaid shawl with a neat straw bonnet, and 
 that each of the little ones should have a new suit 
 of clothes, many of the articles of which could be 
 bought ready-made, such as jackets, caps, shoes, 
 socks, etc. The whole could be purchased, Beatrice 
 said, for fifty dollars ; and this was voted not too 
 much, and the committee accordingly adjourned to 
 Papa, who highly approved of their choice, but, he 
 added, that as he had set aside a larger sum than 
 fifty dollars for the family, he should give the rest in 
 money to Biddy, to help her to support her little 
 ones during Pat's absence at sea. 
 
 Mr. Evelyn then volunteered to go into the city 
 with them, and purchase the articles, as some of 
 them, such as the pea-jacket and watch, would 
 require his judgment ; the phaeton would just hold 
 four, too, so it was agreed they should all go. 
 
 " Perhaps, Aunt Louisa might want to go into 
 the city to-day," said Beatrice ; " I will just run and 
 ask her I should not like us all to go, without say- 
 ing anything to her about it." 
 
 But it was found, that Aunt Louisa did not want 
 to go, being very busy up-stairs about some elabor- 
 ate piece of transferring ; and the rest of the party 
 were soon ready to start.
 
 52 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 The different articles were quite satisfactorily 
 bought, and the money was amply sufficient but 
 as they could not quite guess at the size of the 
 clothes for the two largest boys, they arranged to 
 change them if they did not fit. As the parcels 
 were large, it was agreed that they should drive 
 back by Hawthorn street, and so all have the plea- 
 sure of seeing the presents given. Poor Biddy was 
 very much astonished, when, after having tied Pre- 
 sident to a post on the side- walk, Mr. Evelyn, and 
 his daughters, and Blanche, all went up the narrow 
 staircase, each bearing a large bundle. She had her 
 youngest child in her arms, a little fair -haired girl 
 of some sixteen months old, who nestled her head in 
 her mother's breast at the sight of so many 
 strangers. 
 
 "Well, Biddy, where 's Pat to-day?" said Mr 
 Evelyn, as she met them on the top of the stairs. 
 
 " Faith, sir, an' its jist in the room he is, taking 
 his bit o' dinner ; and sorra I be to say, that his ship 
 is to sail ag'in for them furrin' parts in ten days 
 short time enough, sir, the blessed darlint that he 
 is," said she, wiping her eyes ; " but plase walk in, 
 sir." 
 
 " Well, Biddy," returned Mr. Evelyn, " dry your 
 eyes, and look what a kind French lady, little 
 Blanche's aunt, has sent Pat, to thank him for
 
 BLANCHE'S GRATITUDE. 53 
 
 taking such care of her niece, after her poor father's 
 death." 
 
 Pat's parcel was then unrolled, and unbounded 
 was the glee of the family at its contents ; the watch 
 seemed to give Pat immense satisfaction ; he said 
 it made him feel quite grand, and that it would be 
 so useful to him, when his ship should be in port 
 any time, and he should get leave to go on shore for 
 a few hours, that he might know when to return to 
 the vessel again, and " many, many times beside 
 that, yer honor," he continued ; " and the jacket, 
 too, it's a raal beauty ! not but what the young lady 
 was vastly welcome to what little I could do to help 
 her poor thing, she was bad enough off as it 
 was." 
 
 "Pat, I can say thank you, now," said little 
 Blanche, advancing timidly ; " thank you for all de 
 great kindness you and. Biddy have showed to me." 
 
 She could not trust her English acquirements 
 farther. But Biddy was delighted, and kissing her 
 fondly, she told her she was " a raal clever child, 
 and would soon talk like any dacent crathur." 
 
 Beatrice next produced the gown and shawl for 
 Biddy, while Blanche held up the bonnet. There 
 were fresh exclamations of delight and rapture as 
 Bridget held up a width of the gown before her, and 
 put on the shawl and bonnet, (which was neatly 
 trimmed with a green ribbon). 
 4
 
 54 GKEATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 "Sure, an' ould girl, I'll always think of ye, just 
 as you look this blessed minnit, when I'm far away 
 upon the broad says," said Fat, looking fondly at 
 his wife. 
 
 A tear stood in Biddy's eye half of sorrow and 
 half of joy. Her heart was too full to speak, so she 
 only smiled a look of affection and love at her 
 husband. 
 
 The little ones had, ere this, received their share 
 from Hetty and Beatrice, and were all busily engaged 
 trying on the various articles, most of which fitted 
 admirably, and the rest, were to go with their 
 mother, next morning, to be changed. Mr. Evelyn 
 then slipped a purse, containing fifty dollars, into 
 Biddy's hand ; and willing to leave the family to the 
 enjoyment of their treasures, the party bade them all 
 farewell, and a few minutes brought them to their 
 own door. 
 
 The time of Hetty's vacation drew to a close, and 
 many were the lamentations uttered on her depar- 
 ture. It now, of course, became a favorite recrea- 
 tion, with Beatrice and Blanche, to drive over to 
 see Hetty ; and gladly did the latter welcome the 
 sight of President drawing the phaeton up the 
 avenue leading to the school. 
 
 Blanche's education was not neglected by Beatrice, 
 and she began to speak English very tolerably in- 
 deed, and in her visits to the houses of the poor, and
 
 AUTUMN. 55 
 
 the school, and in as near an approach to what may 
 be called country-rambles, as they could find in the 
 outskirts of a city, Beatrice found her a pleasant 
 and useful little companion. When Mrs. Grant 
 chose to accompany them, Blanche readily under- 
 stood that she was to chatter less than usual ; and 
 she trotted along, very demurely, by Beatrice's 
 side. 
 
 Thus the days passed by, till the autumn-time 
 crept upon them. It was the beginning of October; 
 the trees had assumed those glorious fall-tints, for 
 which the American forests are so justly remark- 
 able : stores of fruits, for winter hoarding, apples, 
 pears and nuts of all kinds, arrived in large quan- 
 tities from a small farm which Mr. Evelyn owned in 
 the country, and carefully putting these away, sort- 
 ing and arranging them, furnished many hours' 
 employment for Beatrice and Blanche. There were 
 now pleasant, cozy evenings passed by the side of 
 bright fires ; Beatrice read aloud, a great deal, to 
 Mr. Evelyn, while Mrs. Grant sat and knitted, and 
 Blanche made clothes for her doll or drew on her 
 transparent slate. Still no escort had been found 
 for the latter, though Mr. Evelyn had made persever- 
 ing inquiries ; and he had been the more incited to 
 do this, as two more letters had been received from 
 Madame de Tremonille, begging him to send little 
 Blanche home to her, as soon as possible.
 
 56 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 One evening found them all thus assembled in the 
 drawing-room ; the tea-tray had just been brought 
 in, and the urn was steaming and hissing on the 
 tab\e. 
 
 " Papa said Beatrice, "I often feel, when things 
 are so pleasant around me, almost too great a sense 
 of satisfaction and gratification. I feel as if they 
 could not pass away from me ; I do so like to go 
 on in just a quiet way, with no particular event 
 happening. Just a quiet round of usefulness, with 
 the society of those I love, is all I seem to care for." 
 
 "Well, my child," returned her father, "I think 
 we cannot be too sensible of God's many mercies, 
 nor enjoy them too thoroughly and gratefully, but 
 we must always remember that we hold these things 
 by an uncertain tenure ; we must be content to en 
 joy them, and yet content to give them up if it be 
 His will ; we should never say, as Job records of 
 himself, " I will die in my nest ;" we must not, as 
 it were, cling to a future of our own imagining, and 
 say, this one thing will I have, and nothing else. 
 It is not wrong to be happy when the Lord gives us, 
 as it were, a breathing-time in our journey but we 
 must be able to say with Paul, 'none of these things 
 move me; neither count I my life dear to myself, so 
 that I may finish my course with joy.' When yom 
 dear mother was alive, my Bee, I used to feel some- 
 times almost too happy in her society she was
 
 THE MINIATURE. 57 
 
 Bticli a gentle, loving friend and companion to me, 
 and her habits and tastes were so in accordance 
 with my own, that I never used to picture anything 
 else to my mind but a continuance of such bliss, 
 and a quiet journey together, hand in hand, down 
 the hill of life. Xow the Lord has taken her to 
 Himself long ago, and yet I am not unhappy I 
 seem to have a brighter and pleasanter prospect 
 awaiting me on the other side of the dark river, 
 now that she has passed over before me; and when 
 I look on this side, I see many blessings to rejoice 
 in and you and my gladsome Hetty are left to 
 cheer nay old age. You, especially, bring your dear 
 mother to my remembrance ; my Bee, you are the 
 most like her, both in appearance and manners." 
 
 Beatrice made no reply, but gently kissed her 
 father's forehead, for she felt the subject was too 
 sacred to admit of much conversation. When she 
 went up-stairs to bed that night, Beatrice took from 
 her dressing-case a small miniature portrait of her 
 mother, which her father had given her some years 
 before, and as she gazed on the soft and gentle linea- 
 ments, she felt what a loss such a wife must have 
 been to him, and she inwardly resolved to devote 
 herself more than ever to promote his comfort and 
 happiness ; and I am sure it requires no self-denial 
 to do this, thought she, as she gazed round her com 
 iortable room. Elegant prints adorned the neatly-
 
 
 58 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 papered walls ; a bright and cheerful chintz covered 
 the furniture ; in one corner hung the cage of her 
 favorite canaries, and in the other was a well-sup- 
 plied book-case, while two or three pretty marble 
 statuettes stood on the mantle-piece. Dear Papa 
 leaves me nothing to wish for, said Beatrice to her- 
 self, and he is so kind a friend and counselor, how can 
 I do otherwise than love him ? She walked to the 
 window, and drawing aside the curtain, gazed at 
 the moon and stars, which were shining in unclouded 
 brilliancy. O! how many events these pure stars 
 look down on ! thought she ; it fills my heart with 
 an indefinable feeling of melancholy, admiration 
 and humility. How very, very little do the affairs 
 of one individual of this earth seem when gazing 
 on that immensity of space ! And yet our Heavenly 
 Father, who created all, cares for every one of his 
 children ; not a hair of their heads falls to the ground 
 without Him. O ! that I might be enabled to do 
 some work for Him, in my time on earth ! Lord ! 
 help me to be patient and wait ! I have sometimes 
 felt as if it were impossible that I should be remem- 
 bered by God, after my body shall have passed into 
 dust ; I, a poor, unknown individual, but one among 
 the millions now inhabiting the earth, and, what is 
 more, among the millions upon millions who have 
 passed into eternity. But I do know and feel that 
 it was only the weakness of my faith which evei
 
 POETICAL EFFUSION. 59 
 
 gave me these feelings ; that all things are possible 
 with God, and that his elect will surely be remem- 
 bered by Him "in the day when He maketh up his 
 jewels." Lord, help me ever, in this life, to have 
 such an assurance of my being accepted in Jesus, 
 that my faith may be always clear and bright. 
 
 Turning from the window, Beatrice sat down at 
 her little reading-table and opened a manuscript 
 book, in which she occasionally noted down her 
 thoughts and feelings, or any particular passage 
 which might strike her when reading. She now 
 turned over its pages till she came upon some lines 
 she had written some time before, when under the 
 influence of some such thoughts as those we have 
 noticed above : 
 
 " There is a time our soul is fraught 
 With the immensity of thought, 
 And hov 'ring on Time's shelving shore, 
 Would fain th' invisible explore 
 But, dazzled with th' excess of light, 
 Must shade itself in th' infinite. 
 In such an hour we frame our way, 
 Far from the turmoil of the gay, 
 Beneath a wood, where stately trees 9 
 
 Bend o'er still waters in the breeze 
 Like guardian shades, the flowers above, 
 Which odors breathe in grateful love. 
 There, lying on a mossy bed, 
 We rest our world- worn, aching head, 
 Gazing on fretted roof, bathed through 
 With rays from Heaven's own boundless blue.
 
 
 60 GKEATNESS IN LRTLE THINGS. 
 
 Fain would we hush the thoughts that sweep, 
 Across the soul's storm-ruffled deep; 
 The dread immensity of calm, 
 Pills onr weak hearts with vain alarm. 
 'T is I! 'tis I, it ever must be I, 
 On through the mazes of eternityl 
 I am but one, from all that throng, 
 That hurrying press the streets along: 
 Can I, a speck, forever stay, 
 Cared for and known, nor pass away 
 To that dim land, where, all forgot, 
 ' ' " They 'd say he was, but he is not i 
 
 O! false, weak heart, the very flowers, 
 The stream, the trees, the leafy bowers, 
 In gladsome, all-melodious voice, 
 Seem lovingly to say, rejoice 
 In Him who gave us endless days, 
 That we might lose ourselves in praise j 
 In Him alone our life can bo 
 A bliss through all eternity; 
 When lost in Him we ever move, 
 Eejoicing in His boundless love." 
 
 Beatrice sank into a kind of reverie, and sat lean- 
 ing her head on her hand, till she was roused by 
 hearing the clock of a neighboring church toll the 
 hour of eleven. She stole quietly into the little 
 dressing-room adjoining, where, on a low cot-bed, 
 Blanche lay in the deep, quiet sleep of childhood. 
 Giving one affectionate glance at the little sleeper, 
 Beatrice returned, leaving the door of communica- 
 tion between the rooms open, as was her custom, in 
 case Blanche should awake in the night. Then
 
 THE FIRE. 61 
 
 extinguishing her candle, she softly drew aside the 
 window curtain and allowed the calm moonlight to 
 stream into the room before she knelt down to pour 
 forth her soul in prayer to her Heavenly Father. 
 She felt, what I dare say many of my readers may 
 have experienced, that there is something in the 
 sweet moonlight which enables one, if I may say so, 
 the more easily to bring the thoughts to hold com- 
 munion with God. Perhaps it is that the pure 
 calmness of the light seems to hush and tranquilize 
 the rebellious senses, and enable one the better to 
 curb the wanderings of the thoughts. Perhaps it is 
 because sin, and corruption, and decay seem less 
 palpably present with us, and that therefore the soul 
 that clings to the T ord, who is called " the Author of 
 light," in such an hour, appears to obtain a clearer 
 and more precious view of His beauty and fullness. 
 
 There is a mysterious feeling of stillness and 
 quietness through a house, when every one has 
 retired to bed. How every sound strikes on the ear! 
 There is the clock ticking in the hall ; how loud it 
 sounds! There is 'a cricket chirping in the kitchen ; 
 how distinctly it is heard up-stairs ! Even the very 
 movements of our own body seem almost to startle 
 us to be doubly conscious. 
 
 Everything had long been silent in her father's 
 house, when Beatrice crept into bed that night. 
 After two or three hours of quiet slumber, she
 
 f>3 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 dreamt that she was in the cabin of a ship at sea, 
 and that it was so small and confined that she could 
 not breathe it seemed as if the close air was stifling 
 her, and starting uneasily in her sleep, she awoke 
 slowly to the consciousness that her room was filled 
 with smoke. Yes, thick volumes of smoke filled 
 both that room and the adjoining one, 'and, almost 
 suffocating, Beatrice jumped up, and hastily throw- 
 ing a dressing-gown around her, she rushed into the 
 dressing-room and waking Blanche, she enveloped 
 her in a shawl, and ran quickly along the corridor 
 to her father's room. Knocking quickly and loudly 
 at the door, she called : "Papa! Papa! dear Papa! 
 the house is on fire ! the house is on fire, Papa ! oh, 
 do come!" Mr. Evelyn was quickly aroused, and 
 commanding his daughter and little Blanche to 
 remain perfectly quiet in his room, for a few mo- 
 ments, he ran to arouso his sister and the servants. 
 Blanche clung tremblingly to Beatrice, scarcely yet 
 awake, and hardly knowing what to fear. In a very 
 short time footsteps were heard coming along the 
 passage, and Mr. Evelyn entered, followed by Jane, 
 who looked very pale, and had a bundle of clothes 
 under her arm. 
 
 "Come, my darling, here are some wraps, such 
 as we have been able to procure in the hurry," said 
 Mr. Evelyn to Beatrice; "make haste and put them 
 round Blanche and yourself, and then follow me
 
 * THE ESCAPE. 63 
 
 down the back-stairs. The house is indeed on fire, 
 my child the flames are raging furiously in the 
 front ; I scarcely think we shall save anything, but 
 I must first see you and your aunt safe before I look 
 to anything else. Socrates is gone to give the alarm 
 and get the fire-engines." 
 
 Beatrice and Blanche were ready in a moment, 
 with Jane's nimble assistance, and just then Mrs. 
 Grant joined them, looking very much frightened. 
 Bidding them all follow him quickly, Mr. Evelyn 
 led them all out of the house, and hastily passed up 
 the street, supporting Mrs. Grant, while Beatrice 
 and Blanche, with the two female servants, followed 
 behind. The glare already illuminated the sky, and 
 the fire-bells were tolling in all parts of the city. 
 O ! how strangely and unexpectedly do events 
 happen ! thought Beatrice but she only pressed 
 Blanche's hand, and the latter was too much lost in 
 wonder and excitement to talk. 
 
 At about two squares from their burning house 
 Mr. Evelyn stopped, and hastily pulled the door-bell 
 of a large red brick dwelling, where their minister, 
 Mr. Grey, resided. After the lapse of a minute, an 
 upper window was opened, and a voice inquired, 
 "Who is there?" 
 
 "A friend in distress, Mr. Grey," said Mr. Eve- 
 lyn ; "but do pray come down and let us in, and I 
 will tell you all about it."
 
 64: GREATNESS IN LITTLE 
 
 The window was quickly shut, and in a few mo- 
 ments the minister, himself, was heard unbolting 
 and unbarring the street-door. 
 
 A few words from Mr. Evelyn sufficed to explain 
 the nature of things. 
 
 " Come into the drawing-room," said Mr. Grey, 
 "and establish yourselves as you best may: my 
 wife and Walter will be down directly to see if they 
 can render you any a~sistance, and I will call up 
 the servant-girl to kindle a fire immediately" and 
 the good man bustled about, and looked so sympa- 
 thizing, that our poor wanderers felt quite comforted. 
 
 " Well then, sir, I shall leave them all under your 
 protection," said Mr. Evelyn ; "I must go back to 
 try and save what things I can. The back of the 
 house was still untouched, when we left." 
 
 Mr. Grey then lit a candle on the mantle-piece, 
 and hurried out of the room to make further prepar- 
 ations for their comfort, and almost directly his good, 
 motherly wife, appeared. Affectionately kissing 
 Beatrice, she expressed her warm sympathy with 
 them in their trouble, saying, at the same time, that 
 she was very glad they had come to her, and she 
 would make them all as comfortable as she possibly 
 could. The servant-girl lit a cheerful fire in the 
 grate, and took possession of Mr. Evelyn's servants, 
 and carried them off to the kitchen regions as her 
 guests.
 
 GREY. 65 
 
 "I hear Walter coming down the stairs, dear 
 Beatrice," said Mrs. Grey, " but you need not mind 
 him ; I assure you you look quite presentable in that 
 hood and cloak. He would not like to be away from 
 the fire, in case he could be of any use : beside, 
 you and he are old friends, you know." 
 
 Beatrice colored slightly as Walter Grey came 
 into the room ; and hastily shaking hands with her, 
 said, there was no time for ceremony then, but that 
 he had just come in to ask her if there were any 
 things she was particularly anxious to save from the 
 fire, in case it should be in his power to get at them. 
 
 Beatrice hurriedly named a few articles, among 
 which was her dressing-case containing her mother's 
 picture. 
 
 " Thank you ! thank you !" she continued, as he 
 turned to leave the room ; " but pray do not expose 
 yourself to any danger on iny account ; and oh ! 
 Mr. Grey, do pray look after my dear father, and 
 see that he is careful of himself." 
 
 " Never fear, never fear," said the young man, 
 and rushing up the street, he was out of sight in a 
 moment. 
 
 The time seemed so dull and so fraught with 
 anxiety while waiting at Mrs. Grey's ! She was 
 very kind to be sure, but it felt so strange to Beatrice 
 to be sitting there at two o'clock in the morning, and 
 to think of what was going on at her own beloved
 
 66 
 
 GREATNESS IN LITTLE I 
 
 home. Little Blanche soon went to sleep on the 
 sofa, comfortably wrapped up in a large shawl, and 
 a cup of hot tea was brought in for Mrs. Grant and 
 Beatrice. Twice they all went to the top of the 
 house to see how the fire was gaining ground. 
 Alas ! the prospect was not very satisfactory. There 
 seemed to be but little left of their own dwelling but 
 the bare walls, at the last visit ; and two of the ad- 
 joining houses had caught fire, and the people in 
 them were to be seen hurriedly moving their furni- 
 ture and running about in great confusion, while the 
 roofs of the neighboring houses were covered with 
 people some of whom were mere lookers-on, while 
 others were engaged in covering any wood-work 
 which was exposed, with wet carpets and blankets, or 
 in extinguishing any large sparks which might have 
 fallen near them. Two or three times old Mr. Grey 
 came down to report progress to them. He said 
 that a great number of their things had been saved 
 and had been carried, as the night was fine, to an 
 adjoining lot, with Socrates and another man left to 
 guard them ; that Mr. Evelyn's house, being soon 
 past recovery, he and his own son, "Walter, were 
 busy helping those whose dwellings had caught fire 
 the latest and of these there were now several 
 and before four o'clock in the morning, nearly half 
 a square had been burnt. 
 
 A little after that hour the gentlemen came home.
 
 ' SICKNESS. 67 
 
 Beatrice ran to the door to meet her father, and 
 found him in a miserable plight, drenched to the 
 skin with water from the hose of the engines, and 
 shivering from head to foot. She was almost too 
 thankful to see him again, to notice this at first, but 
 Mr. Grey said: "Come now, Miss Beatrice, your 
 Papa is safe, thank God, but he must go to bed 
 directly and get a good hot bath, or he will be ill, 
 and that will be worse than the fire." 
 
 Beatrice looked up anxiously in her father's face, 
 but' he assured her that it was nothing that he had 
 certainly got a thorough wetting, and that standing 
 in the cool night air had made him feel chilly, but 
 that he hoped to be quite right again soon. 
 
 The party all needed rest certainly, so a mattress 
 was spread on the drawing-room floor for Mrs. Grant 
 and Beatrice, and a bed- room was quickly got ready 
 for Mr. Evelyn, and ere very long silence reigned 
 through the house. 
 
 But Beatrice could only toss restlessly over, and 
 think of the events of the night with mingled thank- 
 fulness and pain thankfulness for their preserva- 
 tion, and pain when she thought that the home in 
 which she had spent so many, many happy hours 
 existed no longer. Morning dawned ere she could 
 compose her mind to anything like a sufficiently 
 tranquil state, even for a troubled sleep, and when 
 
 she again awoke the sun shone brightly through the 
 6
 
 G8 GREATNESS IN LITTLE 
 
 chinks of the closed shutters. The first sight of 
 where she was, shot a pang of regretful remem- 
 brance through her heart as the circumstances which 
 brought her there forced themselves upon her recol- 
 lection. She heard kind Mrs. Grey running nimbly 
 about the house, apparently engaged, with the assist- 
 ance of the servant, in preparing breakfast for her 
 large party of unexpected guests ; and presently 
 came a gentle tap at the door, and her good-natured 
 face peeped in, and seeing Beatrice was awake, she 
 softly crept into the room, and kissing her, told her 
 that Socrates had arrived with as many of their 
 clothes as could be saved in the hurry and confu- 
 sion. These, she said, were more than might have 
 been expected, as the sheets and quilts had been 
 hastily torn off the beds and filled with the contents 
 of drawers and closets and then thrown out in large 
 bundles to the stand ers below. 
 
 "Mr. Grey is dressed and gone into Mr. Evelyn's 
 room, to see how he is this morning : so you must 
 all of you come quickly up-stairs to my dressing 
 room and get ready for breakfast, for Ann will not 
 like it if we let her muffins and coffee get cold." 
 
 Mrs. Grant and Blanche were now awake, and 
 following Mrs. Grey up-stairs, the whole party were 
 soon comfortably dressed any little deficiency in 
 their wardrobe, or in the appurtenances of the toilet, 
 being supplied by her with ready good-nature.
 
 BEATRICE'S ANXIETY. 69 
 
 Beatrice's anxious thoughts were with her father, 
 for she feared the effects of the past night's exposure 
 on his constitution, which was naturally none of the 
 strongest. Mr. Grey, however, was still with him 
 in his room, so she did not like to go herself, at 
 present, to ask how he felt. Stiil she was very 
 uneasy, and the uneasiness was increased, when a 
 few moments afterward she heard Mr. Grey's voice 
 at the top of the stairs softly calling Socrates, who 
 was at that moment passing through the hall, with 
 a tray of breakfast-things in his hands. 
 
 " Me coming directly, Massa Grey," was the 
 reply; and after a few whispered words from Mr. 
 Grey, Socrates went quickly out of the hall-door. 
 
 Hastily summoning her resolution, Beatrice ran 
 out and caught Mr. Grey before he reached her 
 father's room. 
 
 " O ! Mr. Grey, do pray tell me is there anything 
 the matter with dear Papa ?" inquired she, breath- 
 lessly ; "is he very ill ? oh ! let me see him at 
 once" and Beatrice looked up beseechingly in Mr. 
 Grey's face. 
 
 " My dear young lady, compose yourself," said the 
 good minister, "I cannot conceal from you that your 
 father appears to have taken a very severe cold, and 
 that at the present moment he has so much fever 
 about him, that I thought it right to send for Dr. 
 
 Morton. 
 5
 
 70 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 " But come in, my dear, and see him for yourself 
 he will be comforted by seeing you." 
 
 Without speaking, Beatrice quickly but softly 
 opened the door, and advancing to the bed, threw 
 her arms round her father's neck, and begged him, 
 with tears in her eyes, to tell her if he really felt so 
 very ill. 
 
 " Do not be alarmed, my precious one," replied 
 Mr. Evelyn; "I believe I have caught a severer 
 cold than I anticipated, but I feel thankful to be in 
 the hands of such kind friends, and above all to see 
 you safe and well, and have you with me to nurse 
 me. Dr. Morton will be here presently, and I dare 
 say I shall soon be well again. But remember, my 
 Bee, we are in the Lord's hands, let him do with me 
 what seemeth Him good." 
 
 " O ! Papa, how burning hot your cheeks and 
 hands are," said Beatrice, anxiously ; " is there 
 nothing I can do for you ?" 
 
 " I think I should like a cup of tea, dear child," 
 said her father, " if you would fetch it for me." 
 
 Beatrice ran down stairs, and having given her 
 father the tea, she sat down by the window to await 
 the doctor's coming. It was not long before his 
 buggy drove up to the door, and he came up to Mr. 
 Evelyn's room, accompanied by Mr. Grey. Beatrice 
 left them both with her father, and went down to the 
 room where the rest of the family were assembled
 
 THE BIBLE. 71 
 
 at breakfast. Blanche jumped up to meet her 
 with a glad smile of welcome on her face, and a8 
 Beatrice took her seat at the table, Mrs. Grant 
 inquired after her brother's health, saying, she sup- 
 posed, he had only taken a slight cold. 
 
 " Indeed, Aunt," said Beatrice, " it seems more, 
 I am afraid, than a slight cold. He looks so feverish 
 I cannot help feeling very uneasy, but Dr. Morton 
 is with him now." 
 
 " Well, I will go up and see him when the doctor 
 comes down," said her aunt. 
 
 Beatrice then turned to Walter, and thanked him 
 warmly for his exertions in their behalf during the 
 previous night. 
 
 " I only wish I could have done more," replied 
 Walter ; but I am glad to say I secured your dress- 
 ing-case, Miss Evelyn. See, there it stands," he con- 
 tinued, pointing to a small table near the window ; 
 "and there are a few books beside, which, I thought, 
 you might value, your large Bible among others." 
 
 "Oh, my dear old Bible," said Beatrice; "I 
 should indeed have been sorry to lose that it was 
 dear Mamma's gift to me before she died, when I 
 was quite a little girl. It was so thoughtful of you 
 to bring it, Mr. Grey, I am so very, very much 
 obliged to you." 
 
 Walter colored with pleasure, he was only too 
 glad to have been able to please Beatrice Evelyn
 
 72 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 They had known each other from childhood, though 
 frequently, of late, months had elapsed without any 
 communication between them, as Walter had been 
 at college, studying for a physician. Nothing had 
 ever, as yet, passed between them beyond the inter- 
 change of friendly feelings and sentiments, and yet 
 there had been on both sides an almost unacknowl- 
 edged admiration of each other's character. Walter 
 had long seen what a gentle, loving, and yet noble 
 disposition Beatrice possessed, and had often thought 
 to himself, what a wife she would make to any one 
 worthy of her ; but his own worldly prospects were 
 as yet, he thought, too unsettled to admit of his 
 thinking of himself in the light of her lover. Still, 
 he allowed himself to cherish some ray of hope for 
 the future, when he saw that Beatrice's affections 
 appeared still to be unengaged. During the time 
 of Mr. Chichester's frequent visits to her father's 
 house, Walter had held still more aloof, but he had 
 lately received a hint from his mother that Mrs. 
 Grant had told her, in confidence, that there was no 
 affection existing toward Mr. Chich ester, on Bea- 
 trice's part, and he therefore felt again encouraged 
 to hope for the best. Walter was not one of those 
 miserably weak-minded young men, who can be 
 engaged to different girls several times in the course 
 of their bachelor lives, and have these engagements 
 broken off without any effect on their spirits - 3 the
 
 A CHEISTIAN YOUTH. 73 
 
 mere passing admiration having certainly taken no 
 hold on their hearts if they have such things as 
 hearts at all. A man who can love so lightly and 
 so frequently, never loves strongly and devotedly 
 and Walter was nono of these. He bestowed his 
 affection and admiration carefully, and it was be- 
 cause he placed before his mind such a high stand- 
 ard of excellence that few characters could win his 
 love. It was not that he was cold or unimpassioned. 
 No ! he had a depth of earnest love in his heart, 
 tlidt triflcrs, who have been corrupted by the world 
 and its ways, can never dream of; but he formed to 
 himself an ideal image of the woman he could 
 thoroughly love, and till this ideal should be embod- 
 ied, his heart could not be given. Walter was a 
 Christian young man, in the true sense of that word. 
 He was not one of those who think that youth is 
 the time to give free vent to every sinful passion, and 
 to plunge into every excess of pleasure ; that young 
 men must be young men, and " sow their wild oats." 
 Hollow-hearted falsehood and specious lies! He 
 knew that God formed no man under the necessity 
 of sinning ; and his soul recoiled from participating 
 in the sinful (so-called) pleasures which led astray 
 so many of his fellow-students at the college. He 
 knew and felt that a sin, though it may be forgiven 
 by God, can never, in one sense, be forgotten ; and 
 that the mind that has been vitiated and polluted 
 
 :'"
 
 74 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 can never shake itself as clean and clear again, in 
 this life, as though it had never been defiled. If 
 Walter ever got laughed at by his companions, and 
 called a "miff," and a " slow fellow," for not joining 
 a drinking or card party, he was too much of a true 
 hero to let idle jeers influence his conduct ; and he 
 was so lively and good-humored, and so generous 
 and kind in his disposition, that even the worst of 
 them were generally compelled, before long, to ac- 
 knowledge that "Walter Grey was not such a bad 
 feUow, after all." 
 
 Perhaps Walter was already aware that Beatrice 
 approached more nearly to his ideal, than any one 
 else he knew ; and such a character as his was just 
 calculated to win her esteem and admiration, but he 
 had not yet sought her as a lover, and she thought 
 of him only as a friend. 
 
 Perhaps it may appear strange that Walter should 
 not have made choice of his father's profession that 
 of a minister ; but to say the truth, he wished to 
 bind himself to no party, which he thought would 
 be involved by becoming a minister among any 
 particular denomination. He thought that there were 
 some errors existing among all parties and sects, and 
 whether a man were an Episcopalian, a Baptist, a 
 Methodist, or a Presbyterian, it mattered not, Wal- 
 ter thought, so long as he was a Bible Christian - 
 one who knew the Saviour, and was united to him
 
 THE FEVER. 75 
 
 in the common brotherhood of Christian fellowship. 
 After maturely considering these subjects, young 
 Grey decided on studying physic, as being a useful 
 and philanthropic occupation, and also as affording 
 him abundant opportunities, while attending the 
 bedside of the sick and dying, to administer likewise 
 to their spiritual necessities and to point the heart, 
 trembling and impressible from sickness, to the 
 Redeemer of mankind and the Father of mercy. 
 He had not, as yet, quite finished his academical 
 career, but when he should have completed it, he 
 hoped to obtain a sphere of usefulness in a small 
 village, about twenty miles from the city of Hart- 
 ford, where some friends of his mother resided, 
 and which had lately been pointed out to him as 
 greatly in want of efficient medical assistance, and 
 as, therefore, presenting a promising opening for a 
 beginner. 
 
 But we have made a long digression for the pur- 
 pose of introducing our friend Walter to our readers, 
 and we must not forget that we left Beatrice Evelyn 
 anxiously awaiting the entrance of the doctor to 
 report upon the state of her father's health. 
 
 When he did come, the account was unsatisfac- 
 tory. The symptoms were bad, and the doctor said 
 he should call again at noon. Ere that hour, how- 
 ever, Mr. Evelyn w T as delirious with fever, and kept 
 
 calling for Beatrice to come to him, though she was 
 
 7
 
 76 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 at that time sitting by him, mute with grief. Mrs. 
 Grant, too, stood at the foot of the bed, willing in- 
 deed, but unable to render any assistance. 
 
 After some time passed in silence, broken only 
 by the voice of the sufferer, Beatrice sank down on 
 her knees in pra} 7 er by the bedside, and then rising 
 and forcing herself to be calm, she said: 
 
 "Aunt, something must be done; do pray let us 
 rouse ourselves and try and act, and not give way 
 under this affliction, which our Heavenly Father 
 has seen fit to send us. It is quite impossible that 
 we can allow Mrs. Grey to be burdened any longer 
 with so many additional inmates. There are the two 
 servant-girls and Socrates in the kitchen, and then 
 ourselves and little Blanche, beside dear Papa. It 
 must not be permitted for a single night. She is so 
 kind that 1 know she will never say a word till we 
 mention it; do, Aunt, try and propose some plan." 
 
 " Really, Beatrice, I feel quite incapable of think- 
 ing," replied Mrs. Grant, in an agitated tone, "my 
 nerves are in such a distressing state from the fire 
 last night, and now seeing my dear brother lying 
 there so ill. Propose a plan yourself, dear child; 
 you have less sensitiveness than I." 
 
 Beatrice's lip quivered with emotion, as she 
 thought how little her Aunt understood her, but 
 after pausing a moment or so she said, calmly: "I 
 think, Aunt, you should immediately take a small
 
 TEMPORARY HOME. 77 
 
 furnished house as near this as possible, and go there 
 yourself, with Blanche and the servants. Of course 
 moving dear Papa is quite out of the question, so I 
 will remain here and nurse him, for I could not pos- 
 sibly leave his side now, and you will come and see 
 him as often as you can." 
 
 Mrs. Grant acquiesced in this arrangement, and 
 it was further decided that Hetty should be sent for 
 from school, as she would be wanted in a thousand 
 ways, and among others to take charge of Blanche, 
 who, Beatrice knew, would be quite alarmed afc the 
 thought of being left alone with Mrs. Grant. 
 
 "If you will remain here with poor Papa, Aunt," 
 said Beatrice, " I will go down stairs and tell Mrs. 
 Grey of our plan." 
 
 As Beatrice had conjectured, Mrs. Grey at first 
 remonstrated against the separation of the party, at 
 least for the present, but she was finally prevailed 
 on to consent, and Walter, who just then came into 
 the room, volunteered to go in search of suitable 
 lodgings. 
 
 While he was gone, Dr. Morton arrived, and 
 Beatrice's fears were somewhat allayed by his pro 
 nouncing her father to be in no immediate danger. 
 
 After about an hour Walter Grey came back, 
 having been successful in his search for a house, 
 and before dusk, Mrs, Grant and the rest of the
 
 78 GBEATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 party were safely installed there, with such effects 
 as had been preserved from the fire. 
 
 Beatrice was sitting quietly by her father's bedside, 
 in the afternoon, when Walter softly rapped at the 
 roorn-door. She went to open it. " Miss Evelyn," 
 said he, " President and the phaeton were sent up to 
 a livery stable, about a square from here, last night, 
 as soon as they could be rescued from the stable ; 
 do you not think it would be a good plan if I were 
 to go in the phaeton and fetch your sister Hetty ? 
 I am sure she will be gladly welcomed in Curzon 
 street by one party at least, for I left little Blanche 
 looking very tearful at being separated from you." 
 
 " Thank you, Mr. Grey, you are only too kind," 
 said Beatrice, " 1 should indeed feel very grateful 
 if you would go for dear Hetty : and pray break to 
 her all that has happened as gently as possible. Poor 
 child ! she will be so grieved. And tell her, Mr. 
 Grey, to bring a good supply of clothes with her ; it 
 does not saein likely that she will be able to go back 
 to school again at present. But stay : perhaps I 
 had better write her a note." 
 
 " I am sure that is not necessary," said Walter ; 
 " I feel that I can tell her all you wish ; and if I go 
 directly I shall be back before dark." 
 
 " This house will be on your way from the school 
 to Curzon street," said Beatrice; "stop on your
 
 'S JOUKNEY. 79 
 
 return, please, and let me say a few words to dear 
 Hetty." 
 
 "'Anything and everything you wish," replied 
 "Walter, " I only wish there were something else you 
 could tell me to do for you. God bless you, dear 
 Miss Evelyn ;" and taking her hand, he pressed it 
 respectfully to his lips, and without venturing an- 
 other look, he turned and ran down stairs, and Bea- 
 trice heard him shut the hall-door almost immedi- 
 ately afterward .
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 " Ola. ! weary hearts ! oh, slumbering eyes I 
 Oh ! drooping souls, whose destinies 
 Are fraught with care and pain, 
 Ye shall be lov'd again." LONGFELLOW. 
 
 " There is a fragrant blossom, that maketh glad the garden of the 
 heart. * * * 
 
 " Memory and absence cherish it, as the balmy breathings of the 
 South. 
 
 " Its sun is the brightness of affection and it bloometh in the bor- 
 ders of Hope." TUPPEE'S " PBOVEKBIAL PHILOSOPHY." 
 
 THE days passed wearily and heavily along, and 
 still there was but little amendment in Mr. Evelyn's 
 health. On the third day of his illness, however, 
 the fever comparatively left him and he again knew 
 those around him ; but he was in a pitiable state of 
 weakness, and was suffering great pain in his chest 
 and throat. Beatrice's spirits drooped, and yet she 
 showed it as little as possible before the kind friends 
 by whom she was surrounded. Mr. and Mrs. Grey 
 were untiringly attentive and thoughtful, and when- 
 ever Walter had an opportunity, he was on the alert 
 to do anything that might promote her comfort ; two 
 nights he sat up with Mr. Evelyn, his mother 
 
 (80)
 
 ME. EVELYN'S RECOVERY. 81 
 
 insisting upon Beatrice's going regularly to bed, 
 assuring her that she would make herself seriously 
 ill if she did not do so. Mrs. Grant and Hetty came 
 every day to see them ; they seemed to be going on 
 tolerably comfortably in the new house. They had 
 dismissed one of the servant-girls Jane and So 
 crates being sufficient to attend on so small a party. 
 
 At the end of ten days, Dr. Morton pronounced 
 Mr. Evelyn decidedly better, and in a short time he 
 was able to sit up ; still a hard, hacking cough hung 
 about him, and the doctor said it would never do for 
 him to spend the winter in New York, but that he 
 must go to a warmer climate, when he should be 
 strong enough to bear the journey. The first even- 
 ing that her father was well enough to come down 
 stairs and sit in an easy-chair by the drawing-room 
 fire, was a happy one for Beatrice. She drew a low 
 ottoman and sat down at his feet 'Mr. Grey read 
 aloud to them while his wife sat and worked, and 
 "Walter sat at a small table near the window, copying 
 some anatomical drawings. 
 
 "When Mr. Grey had finished reading, Mr. Evelyn 
 said that an idea had crossed his mind that morning 
 which he wished to subject to the vote of his assem- 
 bled friends. 
 
 " You know," he continued, " that the little French 
 girl, Blanche de Tremonille is only awaiting an 
 escort to be sent home to her aunt at St. Thomas.
 
 82 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 Now, conld not my sojourn in a warm climate be 
 passed there, and thus both purposes be answered 2 
 I think I should enjoy the trip, and I never suffer 
 much from sea-sickness.' 
 
 "Well! papa," said Beatrice, "I have only one 
 stipulation to make, and that is, that I go with you ; 
 of course, you know I must go, to take care both of 
 you and Blanche." 
 
 " Well ! my bonny Bee, but what do our friends 
 think of the place?" 
 
 " I think, my dear sir," said Mr. Grey, "that if 
 you must leave us, the plan is an excellent one. I 
 have heard that the climate in the high lands of the 
 island is not disagreeably hot. and please God, we 
 shall hope to see you among us all in the spring, 
 looking yourself again." 
 
 A shade of disappointment passed over Walters 
 face at the idea of Beatrice's departure ; he felt as if 
 he were now going to lose her altogether, and dur- 
 ing the next few minutes of conversation among the 
 rest of the party, his thoughts were busily engaged 
 in trying to discover a suitable way of saying some- 
 thing to Beatrice on the subject. Well, it was 
 finally arranged, that they should sail in one week's 
 time, should Mr. Evelyn's strength permit it that 
 Mrs. Grant should keep house with Hetty till their 
 return, the latter being taken away from school, at 
 least for the present. Hetty was not very well
 
 THE BRIGANTINE. 83 
 
 pleased when she was told, next day, of this arrange- 
 ment, but Mrs. Grey comforted her by telling her 
 that she must come and see her every day, and that 
 she would often take her nice walks to see her poor 
 people, etc., and Hetty declared she should write an 
 immensely long letter to Beatrice every week, and 
 tell her all her thoughts and doings. 
 
 Two comfortable cabins, adjoining each other, 
 were taken for the party, in a pretty little brigan- 
 tine, bound for St. Thomas, with a cargo of shingles, 
 which was to sail in nine days. One of these cabins 
 contained two berths, which were for Beatrice and 
 little Blanche, and it was arranged that Beatrice 
 should go down, the following day, with Mrs. Grey 
 and Walter to inspect their accommodation. Mr. 
 Grey also volunteered to be of the party, so about 
 ten o'clock in the morning they all set off. A good 
 part of the way lay through crowded wharves, and 
 very bustling streets, so that, although Walter was 
 walking with Beatrice, he could find but little op- 
 portunity of speaking to her. 
 
 A boat came off to take them all on board, and 
 the day was so fine and clear that they remained 
 there some time, inspecting the ship, which was 
 found to be in all respects what could be wished, 
 and they much enjoyed the delightful prospect 
 which lay before them. The harbor was studded 
 with ships of all nations, and a perfect forest of
 
 84: GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 masts lay close to the shore. "Walter was leaning 
 over the side of the vessel with Beatrice, occasion- 
 ally addressing a few words of conversation to her. 
 Anxious thoughts of "now or never" filled his 
 breast ; he wanted to say something, and yet he felt 
 as though he were hardly confident enough respect- 
 ' ing her feelings toward him to say too much. He 
 raised himself and walked slowly two or three times 
 up and down the deck, and then again approaching 
 Beatrice, he said : 
 
 "Do you know, Miss Evelyn, I have quite a spite 
 against this ship ?" 
 
 "Have you?" replied Beatrice, smiling, " I think 
 it is a very pretty one." 
 
 " Yes, but it will soon take you so far away from 
 us, and we shall feel so very lonely without you ! 
 you do not know how lonely." 
 
 Beatrice, still leaning over the side of the vessel, 
 made no reply. She looked down at the clear blue, 
 water, which came rippling softly against the sides 
 of the ship, and she felt that she too was sorry to 
 part from "Walter Grey, but she did not exactly 
 know how to tell him so. 
 
 " Miss Evelyn," said Walter, "might I ask you to 
 think of me sometimes, when you are away ? It 
 would be such a comfort to me to know that I was 
 not forgotten by you ?" 
 
 " Then you shall have that comfort, if it is any,"
 
 WALTER AND BEATRICE. 85 
 
 said Beatrice, blushing slightly, " you have been so 
 kind, both to dear Papa and myself, that I cannot 
 easily forget you." 
 
 "Kind!" said Walter, in a low voice, "if you 
 only knew the pleasure it has been to me even to be 
 near you ! I have wished I could spend my whole 
 life in your service !" 
 
 " You must devote your life to God's service and 
 not mine, Walter," said Beatrice, gently. 
 
 "But will you oh, could you ! promise me to 
 be my help and friend my companion through life ?" 
 said Walter, earnestly, and he bent toward her, and 
 took her hand in his. 
 
 Beatrice made no reply for some time, tyit stood 
 averting her face and gazing down at the sea. At 
 last she said : 
 
 " 1 must devote myself to dear Papa now I 
 cannot tell if I may ever come back again to Amer- 
 ica. But, Walter, I will be no one else's but your's, 
 should God spare our lives to see each other again." 
 
 " My own Beatrice, God bless you for this," said 
 Walter; "may our Heavenly Father send His bless- 
 ing upon us both, and keep you safe to return to me 
 again." 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Grey just then came up from tho 
 cabin, and they all returned on shore. That even- 
 ing Beatrice told her father of Walter's proposal^ 
 and asked his blessing on their engagement. 
 6
 
 86 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 "My child," said Mr. Evelyn, "I thank the Lord 
 for it with my whole heart. Walter Grey has long 
 had my sincere affection and esteem. He is an 
 excellent young man, and I know, my darling, that 
 he will make you a kind husband. You will now 
 have a protector, in case I should be taken away 
 from you, and the thought of what you and my little 
 Hetty would do, if I were gone, has often been a 
 burden on my mind during my hours of sickness ; 
 but I cast my care on my Heavenly Father, and He 
 has taken it from me. Promise me, my Bee, that 
 you will always fill a mother's place to your little 
 sister." 
 
 " Indeed I will, dear Papa," said Beatrice, throw- 
 ing her arms round her father's neck ; " but do not 
 talk in that way ; we all hope to see you quite well 
 and strong again, after you have been to the sunny 
 land. Do not let us prognosticate evil unnecessari- 
 ly ; it makes me feel so unhappy. O ! I could not 
 spare my own Papa !" she continued, laying her 
 cheek fondly against his. 
 
 " Well, my Bee, I am certainly much better, and 
 I would not willingly distress you, my child ; but 
 we must be prepared, whenever the messenger shall 
 come, you know." 
 
 " Yes, Papa," was her reply ; and gazing fondly 
 at him, she sighed, as she thought there might 1", 
 even a possibility of his words coming true.
 
 THE YOTAGE. 87 
 
 "I wish yon would go to Curzon -street early to- 
 morrow morning," said Mr. Evelyn, " and tell yonr 
 aunt Louisa I shall be glad to speak with her as soon 
 as she can conveniently come over. And now you 
 must use all the expedition you can, for you must 
 have many things to get ready for Blanche and 
 yourself. And you must look after my traps this 
 time, dear one," said he, smiling ; "I will draw on 
 my bankers for any sum you may require." 
 
 Beatrice named the amount she thought sufficient, 
 and during the next few days she had but few leisure 
 moments, but we may be sure our friend "Walter did 
 not fail to find out when these occurred. 
 
 It was on the afternoon of the first of November 
 that they set sail for the West Indies, and left 
 America's shores behind them. Blanche shed many 
 tears at leaving Hetty, but told her that she should 
 send her some beautiful things back from the "West 
 Indies by Beatrice. "Walter had busied himself 
 with putting such little comforts as he could devise 
 into Beatrice's cabin among other things a ship- 
 lamp, and a piece of matting for the floor, and also 
 a few entertaining books to beguile the weary hours 
 of sea-sickness. It was a hard trial to him to part 
 with Beatrice now, and yet he felt that it was an 
 unlooked -for happiness to have been assured of her 
 love before she left. He determined to nerve him- 
 self to wait in patient faith and hope, trusting that
 
 SS GREATNESS m LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 God would " make all things work together for their 
 good" and ere Beatrice bade him farewell, he ob- 
 tained a promise from her that she would correspond 
 with him regularly. 
 
 The first few days of their voyage were wretched 
 enough, at least to Beatrice, who suffered very much 
 from sea-sickness, the horrors of which can only be 
 understood by those who have experienced it. 
 
 Mr. Evelyn was tolerably well, and Beatrice was 
 very thankful for this, as she almost blamed herself 
 for not being able to bestow more attention on him. 
 Blanche, however, supplied her place as well as she 
 could, having been but very slightly ill. Her lively 
 manner made her a general favorite with the sailors, 
 and wrapped up in a warm pelisse, the child would 
 often pass hours upon deck, watching the men mend- 
 ing old sails or making other repairs, while they gave 
 her such information as they had picked up in the 
 course of a seafaring life. Her imperfect English, 
 too, amused them, although it made her scarcely 
 less voluble. It was curious and pleasant to feel the 
 gradual increase of temperature as they moved 
 Southward, and long before they reached their des- 
 tination, they were glad to exchange their plaids 
 and furs for cooler garments. 
 
 The soft warm breezes seemed to revive Mr. 
 Evelyn, and sitting in an easy-chair on the deck, he 
 passed many pleasant hours gazing at the glorious
 
 ST. THOMAS. 89 
 
 sea, or at evening-time watching the bright sun 
 setting beneath its waters in the West. 
 
 They had an unusually favorable passage for the 
 time of year, and after Beatrice recovered from the 
 sickness, she enjoyed it exceedingly. 
 
 It was on the evening of the 24th of November 
 that the vessel anchored ofl' the beautiful island of 
 St. Thomas. The town is built, as it were, in the 
 form of three open parasols, the houses ascending 
 gradually from the valley up the sides of the steep 
 hills, which form the back-ground of the view from 
 the sea. It belongs to the Danish government, and 
 the fort presents a prominent object on the right 
 hand of the picture here dull looking soldiers 
 marched about in blue uniform. The streets are lined 
 with stores belonging to merchants of almost every 
 nation under heaven Spanish, Portuguese, English, 
 French, Jews, "West India-creoles, Danes and Turks, 
 are among some of them. The first thing that struck 
 Beatrice, on their approaching the island, was the 
 exquisite perfume of the oleanders, which adorn the 
 gardens in profusion. The sweet odor was wafted 
 far out to sea by the evening land-breeze, and it re- 
 sembled exactly the scent of the heliotrope. 
 
 It was not .too late in the day to land, so one of 
 the ship's boats conveyed them and their luggage on 
 shore. Arriving there, a crowd of negroes imme- 
 diately surrounded them and began vociferously
 
 90 GKEATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 demanding to be employed as porters to take the 
 boxes and portmanteau to the hotel. Selecting a 
 couple of them, Mr. Evelyn bade them go on before 
 and shpw them the way to the best hotel. 
 
 "Hi! Massa," said one of them, grinning from 
 ear to ear, " me show you him for true, sah ! Massa 
 Da Costa inn be good one, berry good, massa, ebery 
 t'ing fine too much there." 
 
 The road from the shore led up a gentle slope, 
 with cocoa-nut trees overshadowing it on either side. 
 Beatrice's heart bounded with delight as she felt 
 that she was now really in the tropics, and she gazed 
 around her, highly amused and interested in all she 
 saw. Crowds of negroes were walking or lounging 
 about: those who were carrying anything, invari- 
 ably placing their burden on their head, however 
 large and unsuitable it might appear for such a posi- 
 tion. Their gay cotton dresses, and the bright- 
 colored handkerchiefs tied round their heads, also 
 added greatly to the picturesque effect. 
 
 Blanche acted as show- woman, and began eagerly 
 explaining all she could to Beatrice, while the latter 
 entered into her feelings of admiration, with all the 
 enthusiasm she could desire. As they went along, 
 Blanche pointed out different stores which she re- 
 membered having been to with her aunt. 
 
 They soon, however, arrived at the hotel, and were 
 shown into a very tolerable sitting-room, though at
 
 MADAME DE TREMONILLE. 91 
 
 first it looked rather comfortless to Beatrice's ideas, 
 with its carpetless pine floors, rubbed as bright as 
 possible, with here and there a few pieces of matting 
 laid about. There were green jalousies to all the 
 windows, but the walls were bare, with the excep- 
 tion of a few prints hung about. There was, for- 
 tunately, a sofa, on which Mr. Evelyn was glad to 
 lie down and rest, for he was still very weak, and 
 he then told Beatrice that she had better write a note 
 to Madame de Tremonille and tell her of their arri- 
 val, that she might send to fetch them as soon as 
 possible. The writing materials were in one of the 
 boxes down stairs, and Blanche was dispatched to 
 get one of the colored waiters to bring this up. The 
 note was soon written and a messenger found to 
 whom strict injunctions were given to be expedi- 
 tious, for they were anxious to reach their destina- 
 tion before nightfall ; and this the nonchalant, free- 
 and-easy air of the bearer seemed to render doubtful. 
 Being promised a reward, however, in proportion to 
 his speed, he set off pretty quickly, and they sat 
 patiently down to await the answer. 
 
 Madame de Tremonille's house was fully three 
 miles from the town, so that it was two hours before 
 they saw her carriage drive up to the inn door. It 
 was now quite dusk, but the evening was most de- 
 lightful, and the carriage holding four comfortably, 
 Madame de Tremonille had come to fetch them
 
 93 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 herself being anxious again to embrace her little 
 Blanche, her adopted child. The latter rushed out 
 of the room to meet her aunt as soon as she heard 
 her footstep on the stairs, and in a moment they were 
 locked in each other's arms. 
 
 "Ah! ma Blanche! ma chere, chere petite, que 
 je suis ravie de te revoir !" said her aunt, fondly 
 kissing her. 
 
 "I can speak English, too, now, aunty," said 
 Blanche. "Oh, how glad I am to see you! but 
 come quickly and see my dear papa Evelyn and my 
 darling Beatrice!" . 
 
 So saying, she seized her aunt by the hand and 
 dragged her somewhat unceremoniously into the 
 room. Mr. Evelyn and Beatrice rose to meet Ma- 
 dame de Tremonille, and were mutually struck with 
 her very pleasing appearance. She was, of course, 
 dressed in deep mourning for her late husband ; her 
 features were soft and regular, and such of her fair 
 hair as was allowed to appear beneath her close 
 widow's cap, plainly bespoke her Saxon origin. She 
 was, indeed', of English parentage ; her father was 
 a minister of the Gospel, and he had only resided in 
 the island about a year, when his daughter, Isabelle, 
 married Monsieur de Tremonille, a French merchant 
 of noble extraction, some six years ago. She was 
 still young, apparently not more than thirty, and 
 having been left in very comfortable circumstances
 
 THE INTEKVIEW. 93 
 
 by her husband, and having no children of her own, 
 she resolved on adopting the little orphan daughter 
 of her brother. 
 
 There was a peculiarly sweet expression of chas 
 tened sorrow in her lovely countenance, which made 
 Beatrice's heart warm toward her from the first. 
 Advancing, she warmly thanked Mr. Evelyn for his 
 kindness to Blanche, saying she could never suffi- 
 ciently express her gratitude to him for restoring 
 her safe and well, to be the comfort of her widowed 
 heart. 
 
 " My dear Madam," said Mr. Evelyn, " I assure 
 you the benefit has been ours. This little one has 
 made our New York home quite lively, and my 
 daughter was as delighted as, possible to have her 
 with her. Beside, I was ordered by my physician to 
 take a trip southward for my health, which has been 
 somewhat delicate of late so you see that bringing 
 her here personally, was not even the slightest in- 
 convenience to me." 
 
 " Well ! I hope I shall have a long time now to 
 enjoy your society and show you, as well as I can, 
 how grateful I feel," replied Madame de Treinon- 
 ille, " I shall not let you leave my West Indian 
 mountain home for a long time, and I hope soon to 
 see you restored to health, under rny care. But 
 come, do not let us delay here any longer, I am 
 impatient to see you all safe at home. Come, my
 
 94 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 darling Blanche, take hold of my hand, you know I 
 ain to be your Mamma now." 
 
 " People seem able to have several Mammas and 
 Papas," said Blanche, " I am sure it is a very nice 
 thing ! God is very good to me, for He sends me 
 new ones whenever I want them." 
 
 " He will always be your friend, my little one," 
 said her Aunt, " if you love Him and trust in Him : 
 He will raise up some kind friend for each of us 
 when He takes any dear one away" and at these 
 words the thought of her own deep and irreparable 
 loss filled her eyes with tears, and she thought again, 
 even as she spoke, that no earthly friend could fill 
 to her the place of him who was gone, and a sicken- 
 ing feeling, almost of agony, shot through her heart, 
 as she for a moment dwelt on that bitterest of all 
 earthly griefe to a woman the loss of a beloved 
 husband. Oh ! I have often, dear reader, when I 
 have perchance passed in the street a gentlewoman 
 in the garb of widowhood, experienced a mingled 
 feeling of pity and respect for her, in thinking of her 
 loss. It must be so very, very bitter to a woman's 
 heart to part with him to whom she has given her 
 early love the spring-time of her affections. God 
 help and pity the widow; and He alone can and will 
 do it, for has He not promised to be " a God unto 
 the widow." The comfortable and easy carriage 
 bore the party rapidly along to their destination.
 
 PALM HILL. 95 
 
 The night being dark, they had lamps Lghted all the 
 way, as in some parts the road was rough and pre- 
 cipitous. The fire-flies were dancing about right 
 merrily, and Beatrice sat looking around her in 
 silent ecstasy, too full of admiring wonder and too 
 much influenced by the soothing balm of the soft 
 air, to be inclined for much conversation. 
 
 In some places, where their road lay up a hilly 
 ascent, and the declining ground on either hand 
 formed a valley beneath them, the swarms of fire- 
 flies produced a most dazzling effect; one might 
 imagine a brilliant illumination of fairy lamps ; or 
 that the sky had fallen on the ground inverted, and 
 that the stars were shining below. The hum of 
 countless insects was heard on all sides, and the per- 
 fume of sweet flowers came wafted with the evening 
 breeze. 
 
 As they drove up to Madame de Tremonille's 
 house, it was, of course, too dark to discern sur- 
 rounding objects plainly, but there were lights burn- 
 ing in several windows, and a negro servant standing 
 in the porch with a lighted candle, to receive them, 
 which as they drove up, enabled our travelers to seo 
 that it was a long building of only one story, but ex 
 tending over a considerable extent of ground, and 
 with a latticed veranda in front, covered with all 
 kinds of luxuriant creepers.
 
 96 GREATNESS is LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 "Here we are, at last," said Madame de Tremon- 
 ille. *' Well ! Pomio, so yon were expecting us, I see," 
 continued she, as she alighted from the carriage. 
 
 " Yes ! Missis, me hear de carriage comin' up de 
 hill, and me no' want Missis for break e neck in de 
 dark." 
 
 " Welcome ! thrice welcome to Palm Hill," said 
 his Mistress to Beatrice and her father, as they en- 
 tered the hall ; " I need not tell you how glad I am 
 to see you within these walls. Here's Miss Blanche, 
 yon see, Pomio, come back to us again. Here 
 Blanche, love, come and speak to old Pomio ;" but 
 Blanche was already running across the hall to meet 
 Jeannette, her colored nurse, who stood timidly 
 awaiting her in an adjoining room, the door of 
 which opened into the hall, not daring to venture 
 forward, as having some secret misgivings, whether 
 Blanche's absence might not have made her too dig- 
 nified a young lady to be romped with as of old. 
 Her warm embrace, however, soon dispelled poor 
 Jeannette's fears, and Pomio exclaimed to his mis- 
 tress : 
 
 "Hi ! Missy Blanche, she lub somebody too much 
 for true !" 
 
 After embracing Jeannette, Blanche ran into the 
 kitchen, to see what friends she had left among ita 
 inmates, and also to discover if a favorite green
 
 PALM HILL. 97 
 
 parrot, which used Jo hang outside the kitchen - 
 porch, had been taken care of. Things seemed to 
 prove satisfactory to her, for she remained absent so 
 \ong, that her Aunt had to send Pomio to summon 
 her to supper, which was awaiting our travelers in 
 an airy, cheerful-looking dining-room. When the 
 meal was concluded, Madame de Tremonille said to 
 Mr. Evelyn, that she was sure he would be glad of 
 rest, and that, therefore, she should, with his per- 
 mission, immediately summon the servants to family 
 prayers " You will want a little time, too, to un- 
 pack your boxes, dear Miss Evelyn," she continued, 
 " you know you must consider yourselves as domi- 
 ciled with me for some time to come." 
 
 " Indeed ! my dear Madam, you are very kind," 
 returned Mr. Evelyn, " but it was only my intention 
 to pay you a short visit, in order to return Blanche 
 into your hands in person, and afterward to hire a 
 small house in the neighborhood for myself and my 
 daughter. It is probable my stay in the island may 
 be for four or five months, and I think it would, 
 therefore, be better, with your leave, to get settled 
 as soon as possible." 
 
 " I assure you I will not hear of your doing such a 
 thing," said Madame de Tremonille; " my house 
 must be your house, my dear Sir, as long as you are 
 in this island ; no time will be too long for me ; I 
 shall be only delighted to have such pleasant coin-
 
 98 GKEATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 panions, and I have old, attached servants, who are 
 accustomed to the ways of the house, so that there 
 will be no trouble given at all, but only pleasure. I 
 feel I shall love your dear Beatrice as a sister; you 
 will let me call you Beatrice, will you not?" said she, 
 kissing her "I do not like formality." Beatrice 
 returned her embrace warmly, while her eyes spoke 
 the pleasure and happiness she felt.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 " Thousands of men breathe, move, and live, pass off the etaga of 
 life and are heard of no more. Live for something do good, and 
 leave behind you a monument of virtue." CHALMERS. 
 
 THE bright beams of the sun awoke Beatrice at 
 an early hour the following morning, and on rising 
 and looking out of her bed-room window, a glorious 
 prospect presented itself. Immediately beneath her 
 was a very prettily kept garden, the flowers of which 
 were sending forth the sweetest perfumes, while here 
 and there were grouped picturesque clusters of cocoa- 
 nut and marango trees; among the boughs of the 
 latter hundreds of bright humming-birds were danc- 
 ing in and out with almost incredible velocity. 
 Some of these tiny creatures were scarcely bigger 
 than a humble-bee; others, again, a larger species, 
 had a tail of two slender black feathers, which crossed 
 each other delicately, and were nearly twice the 
 length of their little emerald-green bodies. There 
 was, again, a variety called the 'Doctor humming- 
 bird,' a still larger and more sober-looking gentleman, 
 dressed in purple, who seemed to make it a constant, 
 9 (99)
 
 100 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 practice to quarrel with all the other birds, and chaso 
 them from any tree on which he might have estab- 
 lished himself. These marango trees hd clusters 
 of sweet-smelling white flowers, much resembling 
 those of the acacia, and the honey contained in these 
 attracted thither large numbers of the little fairy-like 
 creatures. Looking lower down toward the valley, 
 he town was seen dotted prettily about, with its 
 bright party-colored buildings, tinted by the morning 
 sun ; and far in the distance, bounding the horizon, 
 was the glorious blue sea, looking so calm, and clear, 
 and peaceful. 
 
 Beatrice offered a fervent prayer of gratitude to 
 the God who had made all things so beautiful. She 
 prayed that her visit to the island might be of some 
 service, both to herself and others, and that she 
 might be enabled to let her Christian light burn 
 clearly before all men. O! how she wished that 
 Walter could have been there, to enjoy these beau 
 tiful scenes with her and a shadow seemed for 
 a moment to fall over her, as she thought of the dis- 
 tance which separated them and then, again, the 
 remembrance of his trusting words to her, as they 
 stood on the deck together, that " God would surely 
 work all things together for their good," brought 
 calm and comfort to her mind. 
 
 Descending from her chamber she found Madame 
 de Treinonille and Blanche already in the veranaa,
 
 THE GABDEN. 101 
 
 the latter running merrily about, while her aunt sat 
 sipping a cup of cofi'ee, and enjoying the fresh morn- 
 ing air. Blanche ran to kiss her, and Madame de 
 Tremonille, after kindly inquiring after her health, 
 said she did not know whether she were inclined 
 immediately to adopt the West India fashion of tak- 
 ing coffee in the early morning, but that there was 
 some ready for her if she chose to take it. Beatrice 
 declined, but said she should be very glad to recon- 
 noiter the pretty garden she had been admiring from 
 her bed-room window. 
 
 "Well, then, we will all go together," said Ma- 
 dame de Tremonille ; " it is now half-past six, and 
 in another hour or so, the sun will be unpleasantly 
 warm, so come, Blanche, let us go at once." 
 
 "I am going to run on before, Aunty; I want to 
 see my chickens." 
 
 " Well, go on, my child. I did not allow Pomio 
 to wake your father, dear Beatrice, I thought he 
 would require rest after his journey ; he is looking 
 very delicate. Has he been ill for any long period 
 of time ?" 
 
 Beatrice recounted the history of the fire, and its 
 subsequent effects, in producing the severe cold from 
 which her father was still suffering. "But I have 
 great hopes," she continued, "that this warm air 
 may do him a great deal of good ; you do not think
 
 102 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 he looks so very ill, do you, dear Madame de Tre- 
 monille ?" 
 
 "Call me Isabella," replied her friend; "you know 
 we are to be sisters, now. I feel it is no kindness to 
 hide from you that, from what little I have seen of 
 your father, there appears to me to be the greatest 
 cause for anxiety, though still we may hope much 
 from the change of climate. I can see already what 
 a kind, true-hearted man he is, and how much you 
 must love him ; and I earnestly hope that any fears 
 I have may prove groundless you and I must take 
 all the care of him we can. Put your trust in the 
 Lord, my dear friend, and He will never fail you. 
 When my own Eugene lay delirious with fever, be- 
 fore he was taken from me, I prayed so earnestly 
 that I might be enabled to use our blessed Saviour's 
 words : ' Father, not my will, but thine be done ;' 
 and though our parting, when it came, was a bitter 
 trial, I feel that I was greatly strengthened under it. 
 'God tempers the wind to the shorn lamb,'" and 
 she pressed Beatrice's hand as she spoke, while the 
 tears stood in her eyes. 
 
 Just then little Blanche came running up with a 
 nosegay for Beatrice, of the oleander and fragrant 
 Spanish jessamine. 
 
 " Why do you look so sad ?" said she ; " come 
 down the path and see what pretty chickens I have
 
 MKS. MOORE. 103 
 
 got. Many little ones have come since I went away; 
 and look, Nelly is feeding them, and I want to help 
 her." 
 
 A little black girl, of about ten years old, Poinio'a 
 daughter, was busily engaged in throwing handfuls 
 of chopped cocoa-nut among the fowls, who scram- 
 bled for it greedily. 
 
 "Now," said Blanche, laughing, "you shall be 
 my large chicken, dear Beatrice, and I will give you 
 a great piece of the cocoa-nut. Nelly !" she called 
 out, " where did you put the pieces of cocoa-nut you 
 did not cut up ?" 
 
 " Under de big tree, dere, Missy Blanche, on de 
 little wooden seat." 
 
 " O ! yes, I see ; and now here 's a fine place for 
 you two to rest, while Nelly and I finish feeding the 
 chickens and then, dear Mamma," said she, look- 
 ing up coaxingly at Madame de Tremonille, "let us 
 all take a walk up the hill behind the house, to 
 widow Moore's. I should so like to see her and 
 you know, I can get on so much better now than 
 when you used to have to tell her all I wanted to 
 say." 
 
 Her aunt kissed her and nodded consent, and 
 Blanche skipped happily away and quickly dis- 
 patched the business of feeding the chickens. It 
 was through a very pretty path that the road lay to 
 widow Moore's house ; the first part was up a steep
 
 104 GEEATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 ascent, bnt it was shaded by trees nearly the whole 
 way, and then descending a gentle inclination, a 
 small cottage, thatched with cocoa-nut branches, pre- 
 sented itself to their view. 
 
 " O ! there is widow Moore, coming from the 
 spring, with a jng of water on her head," said 
 Blanche, as she ran forward to meet her. The 
 others slowly followed: "This poor woman," said 
 Madame de Tremonille, "is such a simple-minded, 
 earnest Christian, and is such a really useful and 
 estimable person, that I shall be glad for you to know 
 her. She lost her husband some years ago, and was 
 left with an only son, the very idol of her heart. 
 She will be sure to speak to you of her ' poor boy,' 
 as she calls him, before she has seen you long. 
 This son married some three years ago, and still 
 continued to reside with his mother till about ten 
 months ago, when he died of fever. It was a sad 
 case his wife lay in the small room adjoining that 
 in which he died, in the agonies of child-birth, un- 
 able to receive her husband's dying blessing and fare- 
 well; and the poor little fatherless boy you see in 
 that young woman's arms at the cottage door, is the 
 little child he never lived to welcome into the world. 
 The two widows still live together, cherishing the 
 little baby as all that is left to remind them of their 
 lost William. But here is Mrs. Moore coming to 
 meet us. Did you ever see such a child as Blanche
 
 MRS. MOOKE. 105 
 
 for making friends with every one ? Look how she 
 holds that poor woman by the hand, chatting to her 
 as fast as possible !" 
 
 " She is a dear little warm-hearted creature," re- 
 plied Beatrice. 
 
 " Well, Mrs. Moore," said Madame de Tremon- 
 ille, "so you see I have found my little truant 
 
 " Indeed, Missus," said the widow, making a 
 respectful salutation, " I am glad enough to see her 
 bright little face again and she is so improved in 
 her speaking, too the dear child." 
 
 "I have brought a friend of mine, too, to see you, 
 Mrs. Moore," said Madame de Tremonille, turning 
 to Beatrice, " the daughter of the American gentle- 
 man, who, as I told you, was so kind to little 
 Blanche ; and he has brought her home safe to me 
 himself; but I am sorry to say he is not at all well, 
 and I think I shall have to get you to come and 
 prescribe some of your favorite remedies for him. 
 You must know, Beatrice, that Mrs. Moore is quite 
 a celebrated nurse and doctress in these parts." 
 
 "Not much to boast of, Miss," returned the wid- 
 ow; "but come in, ladies, and rest yourselves awhile 
 before you go home." 
 
 They entered the house, which, though small, was 
 scrupulously neat. A rather pretty young quadroon 
 woman, little William's mother, sat dancing her
 
 106 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 child on her knee, singing to him, at the same time, 
 a wild sort of melody which she ceased on the 
 entrance of the visitors. 
 
 A large Bible lay open on a small, rough wooden 
 table, near the door, while a few stools and one 
 rocking-chair completed the furniture of the room. 
 The windows had no panes of glass, but consisted 
 merely of wooden jalousies, which could be opened 
 or shut at pleasure. There was one sleeping apart- 
 ment, and a small shed outside, used for cooking 
 the heat of the climate rendering it very inconve- 
 nient to carry on any culinary operations in the 
 house: indeed, in almost all West India houses, 
 the kitchen is, for this reason, placed at a distance 
 from the dwelling. 
 
 " Well, Lucy, and how is your little boy ?" said 
 Madame de Tremonille, as she patted the little 
 bright-eyed fellow on the cheek. 
 
 " Willy is fine, thank ye, Missis," said the mo- 
 ther, gazing fondly at the little smiling rogue in her 
 arms. 
 
 " I do not think I saw you at church on Sunday, 
 Mrs. Moore," said Madame de Tremonille ; " it is 
 quite an unusual thing to see your place empty?" 
 
 " Indeed, Missis, I am sorry myself whenever it 
 is empty ; but our neighbor, old Joe Ward, is very 
 sick, and he sent for me, a littlo before church-time, 
 to ask me to go and see him. The poor old creature
 
 THE GOOD NEGRO. 107 
 
 lives all alone, except that little, wild grandchild 
 of his, who isn't often there, und he seemed so down- 
 hearted and sick, I thought I would stay with him 
 and read and pray a bit. He looks a poor broken- 
 down old man, and certainly, Missis, he 's none of 
 the handsomest to look at, but I believe he 's surely 
 a pilgrim on his road to glory, and a child of God, 
 if there ever was one in this world." 
 
 "Ah!" said Madame de Tremonille, "that old 
 black man, with his poor withered, and almost de- 
 formed body, will shine as gloriously, and obtain, 
 perhaps, a far richer inheritance, than many of those 
 who, with lovely face and noble forms, have not 
 served their God as faithfully as he has with all 
 his hinderances of poverty, and, I believe, persecu- 
 tion, to contend with." 
 
 "Persecution indeed, Missis," said Mrs. Moore; 
 " when his son and daughter-in-law were alive they 
 used to worry old Joe night and day about his reli- 
 gion, and if they saw him go down on his knees to 
 pray, or take up his Bible, it was a signal for ill- 
 treatment and harsh words. You see, Missis, the 
 house was but small, and when they saw the old 
 man wanted to have a quiet time to himself, they 
 would just make all the noise and confusion they 
 could, and so at last he used to make it his practice 
 to go out of doors and get in some shady place, 
 under a tree, where he thought he should not be
 
 108 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 disturbed, and there pray to his Saviour so sweetly, 
 that sometimes, when I have been passing anywhere 
 near, I have stopped to listen till I felt my heart 
 warm too. Well, they that persecuted him were 
 taken away by death, and in the time of their sick- 
 ness they did seem to show some little contrition 
 toward the old man, and begged him to forgive 
 them for all their nnkindness to him. He certainly 
 bore them no ill-will, for he was always as gentle 
 and kind to them, as if they had been the. best 
 children possible, and he takes good care of their 
 little one, now they are gone though she 's but a 
 graceless child, too and I hope he may not be dis- 
 appointed in her. Before he took sick, many and 
 many a time has he come down to have a time of 
 prayer with me and Lucy, and our poor William. 
 But now, I think, he 's failing fast, and is not long 
 for this world. Our good minister, Mr. Campbell, 
 has been to see him several times lately, and this 
 has been a great comfort to the poor old man. He 
 is such a kind gentleman I love to see him enter 
 my door ; what he says always seems to help me," 
 and do me good." 
 
 " We are indeed blessed in our minister," replied 
 Madame de Tremonille ; " but come, it must be 
 breakfast -time, and we had better be going home," 
 continued she, moving toward the door u come to 
 ine, Mrs. Moore, for any little delicacy you think
 
 THE MINISTER. 109 
 
 old Joe might fancy. I will come and see him my 
 self, if I can, to-morrow." 
 
 " Who is this Mr. Campbell ?" said Beatrice, as 
 they slowly wended their way toward the house. 
 
 " He is the minister of a small Scotch church, 
 Decently established near here," was the reply ; " I 
 will show you the neat building when we shall have 
 turned the brow of the hill. His cure lies among 
 the small hamlets scattered along the valley, below 
 our house. His congregation consists chiefly of col- 
 ored people, but there are several white families 
 who attend regularly ours among others. Indeed, 
 I have myself lately become a member of his church, 
 and this for several reasons. One is, that I believe 
 his preaching to be faithful, and his views scriptu- 
 ral, and that he endeavors to preach Christ to the 
 people. Another is, that the nearest church in the 
 town is two miles and a half from home, and I do not 
 like to use my servants and horses on the Sabbath, 
 when I can avoid doing so ; and beside, if we attend 
 any church, I think, we should, if possible, be regular 
 and constant in attending all the services which are 
 held there. I do not approve of the plan of just going 
 to church once on the Sabbath, when the minister 
 thinks it fitting and advantageous to have a second 
 service, that the people may at least have an oppor- 
 tunity of meeting together twice on the Lord's day. 
 I do not think it becomes a professing Christian to
 
 110 GKEATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 be willingly absent from such a means of grace. It 
 is not the form of going to church twice that I look 
 to; it is, that where a person is a true Christian, they 
 will love to meet together with other believers, to 
 serve their common Lord." 
 
 " How many people there are, though," said Bea- 
 trice, "who seem to think they have quite performed 
 their duty, if they just go and ' show themselves ' 
 at church once on the Sabbath ; they seem to think 
 it a sort of necessary duty done, and out of the way 
 and the rest of the day is spent in frivolous con- 
 versation, or in reading books of general literature, 
 which, though very good in their way, are certainly 
 not calculated to lead our thoughts to that Lord who 
 has commanded ns to keep His day holy : ' not 
 following our own thoughts, nor speaking our own 
 words.' " 
 
 " I think," said Madame de Tremonille, " that it 
 is a pity, that many well-meaning Christian parents, 
 by an unnecessary strictness and severity of disci- 
 pline, should create a distaste in the minds of their 
 children for the duties of the Sabbath and when 
 these children grow up, and throw off parental 
 restraint, they will be the more likely, if not con- 
 verted, to disregard even the decent observance of 
 the day. I would not allow a child to play the 
 same games, or read the same books, as on the 
 week-days, but I would find something to afford
 
 SUNDAY DISCIPLINE. Ill 
 
 Borne relaxation to the mind after the hours of pub- 
 lic worship, which might still be of a gentle and 
 quiet nature, befitting a holy day of rest God's 
 day and yet enough to keep the mind and body 
 from weariness from being kept on the stretch during 
 the whole day. This was the plan pursued with me, 
 by my dear mother, in England, when I was a child. 
 Although she never allowed me to follow my own 
 fancy about going to church, as some mothers do 
 permitting any trivial excuse pleaded to be a cause 
 of non-attendance yet she never made my going 
 seem irksome to me, for she always spoke of it as 
 the greatest treat and privilege, and as what no 
 right-minded Christians would ever willingly absent 
 themselves from. I could see how she looked for- 
 ward to going to God's house how she always 
 made it a point to be there early, so as to lose no 
 part of the precious service, and I used to think it 
 very, very nice, to be allowed to go with her. In 
 the afternoon, she used to take me with her to the 
 parish-school, and when I was old enough I had a 
 class of little ones to teach myself, and this was a 
 source of great pleasure and interest. When we 
 came home, I was allowed to go into the garden, or 
 occupy myself in any quiet way for an hour or two. 
 Then she would call me, and we read together out 
 of the Bible, or some book of simple religious
 
 112 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 instruction, allegories, memoirs, etc. O ! how well 
 I remember going through the Pilgrim's Progress, 
 and the delight it gave me. After that, my mother 
 would open the piano, and sing sweet hymns, while 
 I would join as well as I could, and dear Papa, too, 
 if he happened to be there. After tea, there was 
 the evening service at the church, and then, as a 
 Sunday treat, I was always allowed to sit up to 
 supper with papa and mamma. My Sundays, dear 
 Beatrice, were looked forward to and not dreaded, 
 and I have loved the Sabbath ever since. I do not 
 mean to say that every child brought up to regard 
 the Sabbath thus, would love it and look forward to 
 it, but such a course has most certainly a tendency 
 to produce that effect ; and I think I may say that 
 the cordial love felt by both my parents, for God's 
 word, His day, and His ordinances, was the means, 
 under Him, of bringing my heart to the Saviour. 
 I had many, many advantages ; I was the child of 
 much prayer, and I feel how very much Christian 
 parents may do for the souls of their children ; how 
 seldom do we see the children of praying fathers 
 and mothers die unconverted. The ground may lie 
 fallow for years, but if good seed be sown, it will 
 assuredly spring up into life some day." 
 
 "I suppose you intend pursuing much such a plan 
 as that you mentioned, with regard to Blanche," said
 
 THE POOR CARPENTER. 113 
 
 Beatrice ; " she is a dear little docile thing, and bet- 
 ter than that, indeed, for she seems to have been 
 taught to know and love the Saviour by her poor 
 father. He was a Christian, was he not?" 
 
 " Indeed he was, an earnest and devoted one," said 
 Madame de Tremonille. " I, as you know, had only 
 the pleasure of knowing him for about six months ; 
 but he was not the kind of man who would ' hide 
 his light under a bushel.' He loved God, and he 
 was not ashamed to own Him before men. It may 
 be fancy, but I have sometimes thought that I could 
 see ' the light shining through,' on the face of any one 
 particularly full of God's Spirit; and it was so with 
 him, to a remarkable degree." 
 
 "O! I know what you mean," replied Beatrice. 
 " I remember, once, Papa took me walking with him 
 to see a poor carpenter, with whom he had some 
 business; and I really seemed to feel, directly I saw 
 him, that he was a Christian and the idea was con- 
 firmed when he began to speak there seemed such 
 a heavenly, happy expression on his countenance. 
 But I do not think, dear Isabelle, (and Beatrice 
 looked at her companion and smiled, as she pro- 
 nounced the name,) that I have observed this in 
 many Christians, have you ?" 
 
 " No, indeed ; I am sorry to say that most of God's 
 children allow the clouds and mists of sin 10 be far
 
 114: GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 too thick and strong for much light to shine at all. 
 But, I think, the reason is, that they do not live near 
 enough to Him not sufficiently in personal commu- 
 nion with Him. I have seen that, at times, in my 
 dear Eugene's face, which plainly told me he had 
 -been with Jesus, when, perhaps, I had been absent 
 from the house, and quite unaware of how he had 
 been engaged ! Oh ! it is such a comfort, dear Bea- 
 trice, such an inexpressible comfort, to think of 
 these things, now that he is gone." 
 
 " Oh ! how bitterly a Christian woman must rue 
 it, in after life, when she has been tempted, from 
 worldly causes, to marry an unbeliever," said 
 Beatrice. 
 
 "Bitterly, indeed; but we have quite strayed 
 away from Mr. Campbell, of whom you were asking 
 me. He is such a faithful man ; his work here is 
 really quite a missionary one, for his salary is ex- 
 ceedingly small, and his congregation poor and scat- 
 tered ; but I will let you judge of him when you 
 have seen him. 1 hope, dear Beatrice, that when- 
 ever you marry, it may be a man as earnest and de 
 voted as he is. 
 
 Beatrice blushed, and said : " Yes, indeed, I be 
 lieve, I think it is so " 
 
 "What!" said Madame de Tremonille, looking* at 
 Aer, and smiling as she spoke ; "so that's the case.
 
 CREOLES. 115 
 
 is it ? So you have left your heart in New York, 
 have you ? Do tell me who it is I am so glad I 
 know you will make such a good wife." 
 
 "Thank, you," said Beatrice, laughing; "but 
 now we are at the house, so I will wait till after 
 breakfast to satisfy your curiosity. I must really go 
 and see how dear Papa is he will be awake, and 
 wondering what has become of me." 
 
 Blanche joined them at the gate ; she had strayed 
 away in search of flowers, and by the time she 
 reached home, she was quite ready for her breakfast. 
 
 " Do not be long," said Madame de Tremonille, 
 "we shall wait for you ; and I want you to tell me 
 what your Papa will fancy to eat. I suppose they 
 would think our West India breakfast an odd one 
 in New York, would they not, Blanche ?" 
 
 " Yes, indeed, dear Mamma, I do not think they 
 would get used to eating plantain and yam, early 
 in the morning, at first. You know, I did not like 
 it, when I first came from France, everything tasted 
 so funny to me." 
 
 "So it did to me, darling; but you see I have 
 been so long here, I am becoming quite a Creole." 
 
 "What do you mean by that word Creole, Mam- 
 ma ? Am I a creole ?" 
 
 "No, dearest. Creoles, properly speaking, are 
 European people's children who have been born in 
 
 the West Indies, but the term is now generally 
 10
 
 116 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 applied to all who are natives of the islands, whether 
 white or colored. You are not a Creole, because, 
 you know, you were born in France ; and I am not 
 a Creole, for I was born in England." 
 
 "Then, is Judge Green's little baby a Creole, 
 Mamma P said Blanche, thoughtfully. 
 
 " Yes, dearest ; you know she was born just before 
 you left for America. Don't you remember going 
 with me to see it, and being afraid to touch the tiny 
 creature, lest you should hurt it ?" 
 
 "O! yes, to be sure!" said Blanche, laughing; 
 " but I was littler then than 1 am now ; I have seen 
 several babies since then." 
 
 " And the baby was * littler,' as you call it, too ; 
 she has grown a nice little girl I will take you to 
 see her some day, if you are good." 
 
 " I hope I shall be good, dear Mamma ; oh ! it is so 
 nice to be here with you again, and to have Beatrice 
 here too. You can't think how kind she was to 
 me in New York she was so gentle, and she used 
 to teach me so many things. I was thinking, this 
 morning, when I was out gathering flowers, of a 
 pretty hymn she once gave me to learn. May I re- 
 peat it to you ?" 
 
 "Do, my child!" 
 
 Blanche began to repeat the beautiful hymn, be- 
 ginning " I want to be like Jesus ;" pronouncing 
 the words slowly and carefully, lest her imperfec*
 
 MR. EVELYN'S ILLNESS. 117 
 
 pronunciation should destroy the effect on her aunt's 
 mind. 
 
 When she had finished, her aunt thanked her, 
 and kissed her fondly; and just then the door opened 
 and Beatrice entered. She looked pale and dis- 
 tressed, and said she had found her father extremely 
 weak and exhausted, his cough having been very 
 troublesome during the night. 
 
 " Oh ! dear, I am sorry to hear so bad an ac- 
 count," said Madame de Tremonille; "do you not 
 think it would be better to send for medical advice ? 
 I can recommend a physician, whom I believe to be 
 very skillful." 
 
 " Well 1 I really think I will venture to send for 
 him, on my own responsibility, without consulting 
 Papa," replied Beatrice. " He looks so very ill that 
 I cannot feel easy till he has seen a doctor, and yet, in 
 another hour he might feel so much better as to 
 oppose our sending for one." 
 
 Madame de Tremonille arranged several little 
 tempting delicacies on a tray, and dispatched them 
 to Mr. Evelyn by Pomio, and then told Beatrice 
 that she must come and eat some breakfast on pain 
 of her serious displeasure. When the latter had 
 seated herself at the table, Madame de Tremonille 
 said, that she thought she would drive down into the 
 
 town herself, after breakfast; that she had some shop- 
 8
 
 118 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 ping to do, and that she could call at Dr. Mason's at 
 the same time. " I should be glad if you could come 
 with me, dear Beatrice," she continued ; " but per- 
 haps you would hardly like to leave your father 
 but do as you like best." 
 
 "Thank you, I will stay with Papa," replied 
 Beatrice, " and I want very much to write home I 
 know Hetty will be expecting a letter." 
 
 "And somebody else, too, eh?" said her friend, 
 laughing " Come now, dear Beatrice, tell me who 
 your intended is, and what he is like, or I shall not 
 be able to eat my breakfast for curiosity." 
 
 Beatrice colored and laughed " Well now," said 
 she, " where am I to begin ? at the color cf his eyes, 
 or his hair, or his age and height or what?" 
 
 "Anything you like, as long as you give me a 
 good idea of him." 
 
 Beatrice recounted, in as few words as possible, 
 the history of her acquaintance with Walter Grey, 
 and described his prospects, and character, and dis- 
 position. It is true, that the sketch was painted 
 with the rosy light of love but it was about a 
 correct one, after all. 
 
 "I think he is such a very nice young man, 
 Aunty," said Blanche '"he was always so kind to 
 me. Hetty, and all of us liked him so much and 
 he is handsome, too."
 
 BEATKICE'S CONFESSION. 119 
 
 " Well! I only hope he is worthy of yonr friend, 
 Beatrice, iny child ; but run now and tell Jeannette 
 to get you ready to go to town with me ; you would 
 like to come, would you not?" 
 
 " O ! yes, Aunty, very much." 
 
 "Well then, dear, go now and do not be long. 
 You had better run into the kitchen first, and tell 
 Cato to bring the carriage round as soon as he can, 
 for I want to set off before the sun gets too hot."
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Thou art gone to the grave, but we will not deplore thee, 
 Since God was thy ransom, thy guardian, thy guide, 
 He gave thee, He took thee, and soon will restore thee, 
 Where death has no sting since the Saviour has died. 
 
 BISHOP HEBEE. 
 
 " The dead are like the stars by day, 
 Withdrawn from mortal eye." 
 
 THE next few days spent at Palm Hill, slipped 
 rapidly away, unmarked by any particular event. 
 Mr. Evelyn, who had rallied a little, used to 
 lie, during the greater part of the day, on a 
 lounge in the veranda, while little Blanche would 
 fan him gently, and Beatrice read aloud. In the 
 cool of the evening, when he was well enough, 
 he used to take a drive in Madame de Tremonille's 
 carriage ; but he did not seem to rally as much as 
 his friends had hoped, and his cough was now ac- 
 companied by slight hemorrhage from the lungs, 
 and the doctor and Madame de Tremonille thought 
 him failing fast; but Beatrice could not help per- 
 suading herself that he would soon be better, and 
 that the present great weakness was only the result 
 of the voyage and of his long sickness in New York.
 
 THE PIOTUEE. 121 
 
 Certainly, there were times when her father would 
 seem quite cheerful, and enter into conversation 
 with almost the liveliness and animation of old 
 times and then his daughter's sanguine disposition 
 made her ready to believe, that in a few weeks, he 
 Would be quite well again. 
 
 "When thus free from anxiety on his account, Bea- 
 trice used to enter with the greatest zest into explo- 
 ring different parts of the island, collecting curiosities, 
 sketching, etc. She soon amassed a goodly amount 
 of delightful horribles, such as tine centipedes, scor- 
 pions, lizards and snakes, which she carefully put up 
 in spirits of wine to show to Walter and Hetty. 
 
 Beatrice could draw very nicely, and she found 
 abundant subject for her pencil what with the 
 beautiful and luxuriant foliage the picturesque 
 dwellings, and the diversified scenery, she made a 
 small, but very pretty water-color drawing of Palm 
 Hill, and inclosed it in a letter home ; and Madame 
 de Tremonille was so delighted with it, that she 
 begged Beatrice to draw one for her on a larger 
 scale that she might have it framed and hang it 
 in her room, for a keepsake. 
 
 There was an English merchant, of the name of 
 Gisborne, residing at a very pretty place, about half 
 a mile from Palm Hill : he had a wife and several 
 children, all grown up, and they were exceedingly 
 kind and pleasant people. One or two of the daugh-
 
 122 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 ters were musical, and they were delighted with Bea- 
 trice's sweet voice ; and when her father was well 
 enough, she would often go over to Shady Grove, to 
 practice with them. 
 
 Three or four times, Mr. Gisborne hired a boat 
 and took them all out, in the early morning, for a 
 row along the coast they used to drive down to the 
 shore as soon as daylight broke, and get back home 
 again ere the sun had become unpleasantly powerful. 
 Beatrice and Blanche were always delighted to be 
 of the party, but Madame de Tremonille hardly felt in- 
 clined to join them, so soon after her husband's death. 
 
 One morning, after the Evelyns had been about 
 a month in the island, Beatrice was returning from 
 one of these expeditions, with little Blanche, and on 
 coming near the house, Madame de Tremonille met 
 them, with an expression of sadness and anxiety on 
 her face. Beatrice eagerly and breathlessly asked 
 her if anything was wrong. 
 
 " My dear girl," she replied, " I am afraid your 
 father is very ill. About half an hour ago, he rang 
 his bell, and when Pomio went to his room, he 
 found him lying on the bed, bleeding profusely from 
 the mouth, and unable to speak. I sent for widow 
 Moore, instantly, as I scarcely knew what to do 
 myself, and she is with him now, and I also dis- 
 patched Pomio on horseback, for the doctor. 
 
 Beatrice rushed along the passage, without reply-
 
 JEANNETTE. 123 
 
 ing ; she only clasped her hands together, and said, 
 " Oh ! that I should have been out ! poor Papa 1" 
 
 "I am surprised you did not meet Pomio, as you 
 came up the hill, from Shady Grove, Blanche," said 
 Madame de Tremonille, u are you sure he did not 
 pass you ?" 
 
 " Oh ! yes, dear Mamma, I 'm sure we should have 
 Been him," replied Blanche, looking very pale. 
 "If you please, Missis," said Jeannette, who had just 
 come into the room, to fetch Blanche to change her 
 dress, " I fink Pomio must have pass de oder way, 
 t'rough de estate de Monsieur Everette ; it is a leetle 
 more short for de horseback, though it not do for 
 carriage." 
 
 "Ah! you are right, Jeannette; I did not think 
 of that." 
 
 " Venez, Mademoiselle Blanche, s 'il vous plait, 
 il faut que je vous habille pour le dejeuner." 
 
 " Oui, Jeannette, but you can talk English, to 
 Maman ; I like you speak it to me, too but come, 
 Jeannette, we must go very softly along the passage, 
 now poor Mr. Evelyn is so sick. Should you think 
 lie was so very bad ?" continued she, as they entered 
 the pretty little room appropriated to her use. 
 
 " Pomio say, in de kitchen," replied Jeannette, 
 "dat he t'ink he no live long ; ah ! la pan vre Mademoi- 
 selle Beatrice, dat will make her too much sorrow " 
 
 11
 
 124 GREATNESS LM LITTLE Tnraas. 
 
 But we must follow Beatrice, to her father's 
 room. Stopping one moment at the door, she 
 forcibly endeavored to control her feelings, lest her 
 sudden entrance might excite her father too much : 
 softly opening the door, she saw him lying perfectly 
 still, with his eyes shut, looking very pale, while 
 Mrs. Moore was sitting on a low stool at the foot of 
 the bed. She rose, when she saw Beatrice, and put 
 her finger on her lips, to enjoin silence. 
 
 " Do not speak to him, dear lady, but only let 
 him know that you are here." 
 
 Beatrice pressed her lips gently on his forehead, 
 and Mr. Evelyn opened his eyes, and softly pressed 
 her hand. He moved his lips to speak, but he 
 could not do so. 
 
 tc God bless you, my own dear Papa," whispered 
 Beatrice, in a voice trembling from suppressed 
 emotion, " what shall I do for you 2 If you could 
 only make me some sign to tell me if you are suf- 
 fering pain or not !" 
 
 Mr. Evelyn shook his head. Shortly after he 
 joined his hands in the attitude of prayer, and nod- 
 ded to Beatrice she understood that he wished her 
 to pray, and she knelt softly down by the side of 
 the bed ; Mrs. Moore knelt too, and that prayer 
 F.eemed to comfort all their hearts ; and on Mr. 
 Evelyn's face, when they arose, there was an ex-
 
 DOCTOR MASON. 125 
 
 pression of happiness, and holy resignation. Bea- 
 trice sat down quietly to await the doctor's coming; 
 her heart was very sad ; she felt as though her dear 
 father were about to be taken from her and how 
 should she bear it ? alone, away from home, in a 
 foreign land. 
 
 Once there came a gentle tap at the- door; it was 
 Blanche, who had been sent by Madame de Tremon- 
 ille to inquire after Mr. Evelyn. Beatrice gave her 
 a message to take to her aunt, and her voice trem- 
 bled as she did so. 
 
 Blanche looked very much awed at the sight of 
 Beatrice's grief. She longed to throw her arm8 
 round her neck and comfort her, but she felt a child's 
 instinctive reverence for sorrow, and she only stood 
 patiently and sadly awaiting the answer, and then 
 glided noiselessly along the passage. 
 
 The doctor arrived shortly after, and when he left 
 her father's room, Beatrice waited for him in the 
 veranda. " Doctor Mason," said she, " will you tell 
 me candidly and sincerely if we have reason for 
 alarm ?" 
 
 "My dear young lady, I should think it false 
 kindness were I to hide from you the real state of 
 the case. Your father will rally, I expect, in a day 
 or two, and he may linger, perhaps, for some weeks, 
 but longer than that you may not hope to have him 
 with you. He has not, naturally, a very strong
 
 126 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 constitution, and this severe cold has settled on his 
 lungs in too dangerous a form, to be materially alle- 
 viated by the change of climate. Such, I aui sorry 
 to say, is the truth, since you ask it from me." 
 
 Beatrice felt ready to sink under the blow of the 
 intelligence, but she commanded her voice sufficient- 
 ly to reply: " Thank you ; it is far better that I should 
 know the worst." 
 
 " Do not hesitate to send for me at any hour of 
 the day or night, when I may be of use," said 
 Dr. Mason, as he mounted his horse. " Good -by, 
 young lady, pray remember to keep your father as 
 quiet as possible." 
 
 Beatrice went into the drawing-room to seek Ma- 
 dame de Tremonille. She found her engaged in 
 writing, and said to her : " Isabelle, I have just seen 
 the doctor, and " 
 
 " "Well, dear, and what is his report ?" said Ma- 
 dame de Tremonille, tenderly, laying down her pen 
 as she spoke. 
 
 Beatrice laid her head on her friend's shoulder 
 and burst into tears. Madame de Tremonille suf- 
 fered her to weep uninterruptedly for a minute or so, 
 and then said, in a whispered voice: " Do not worry 
 yourself to tell me, dear Beatrice, I can see how it is. 
 May the Lord comfort you, my dear girl, under this 
 great trial. Lean on Him in your weakness, dear 
 Beatrice."
 
 THE SCOTCH MINISTER. 127 
 
 "I do I will," sobbed she, "but oh! my dear 
 Papa, what shall I do without him ?" 
 
 As the doctor had expected, Mr. Evelyn was con- 
 siderably revived, the following day, and was soon 
 able to be wheeled to the porch door, in an easy- 
 chair, to enjoy the cool sea-breeze ; but it was like 
 the flickering flame of a candle, about to expire. 
 Some days, he would appear tolerably well, and be 
 able to talk with his daughter, for some time together, 
 but at night, his cough was unceasing, and he was 
 scarcely able to lie down at all, but was propped 
 up in his bed with pillows. 
 
 Beatrice was with him, as much as possible, but 
 she found Mrs. Moore a most valuable assistant. 
 During Mr. Evelyn's illness, he was frequently 
 visited by Mr. Campbell, the young Scotch minister, 
 of whom we have spoken before. Their intercourse 
 was a source of mutual gratification ; in Mr. Eve- 
 lyn, Mr. Campbell found an experienced Christian, 
 ripened for eternity, and one to whose matured 
 judgment he could look for advice, in his min- 
 isterial difficulties; and Mr. Evelyn was delighted 
 with the freshness of heart the simple faith, and 
 earnestness of the young minister. 
 
 Sometimes, when Mr. Evelyn was strong enough 
 to bear it, the whole household would assemble in 
 his room, while Mr. Campbell expounded a chapter 
 in the Bible, and prayed and these were sweet and
 
 128 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 solemn occasions, the influence of which was felt 
 by all. 
 
 Late one afternoon, Mr. Evelyn was sitting in an 
 easy-chair near his bedroom window; Beatrice was 
 at work near him ; the sun was just setting, and aa 
 he gazed at its departing glories, Beatrice saw his 
 lips move in prayer : she thought of those beautiful 
 lines of Feabody's 
 
 " Behold, the western evening light, 
 
 It melts in deepening gloom. 
 So calmly, Christians sink away, 
 Descending to the tomb." 
 
 Her father knew that death was approaching, but 
 for him, he was no King of terrors. He had been 
 taught by faith, to overcome the dread which our 
 poor human bodies feel, at the thought of corruption, 
 and his spirit longed to be with its Saviour. 
 
 " My Bee/' he said at length, " I sometimes seem 
 to feel your dear mother's spirit so near to me, it 
 seems as though I could almost hear her speaking. 
 I feel so this evening I feel as though she were 
 about to welcome me to that happy land, whither 
 she has gone before. <My Mary,' he continued, 
 closing his eyes with a dreamy look, 'I shall soon 
 come to thee, to part no more for eternity I It is but 
 a short journey a little stage and I shall be on the 
 other side.' O! my Saviour, I thank thee, that 
 thou hast taught me to love and know thee. I
 
 DYING rssTKrc-noxs: 129 
 
 bless thee, that I can say, them art my Redeemer. 
 1 Lord, when shall I behold thy face, and stand 
 complete in righteousness !' My own Bee my 
 darling child come and kiss me. I leave yon and 
 Hetty to the care of your heavenly Father ; I thank 
 Him that you, my child, have given your heart to 
 Him ; oh ! watch over your sister with a mother's 
 care she is often impulsive, and thoughtless, but 
 careful attention and guidance will do much. My 
 Bee, when you and Walter are married, do not let 
 your sister leave you ; she would not be happy, in 
 New York, with her aunt. I have provided for the 
 latter in my will, so that she will not be a burden on 
 you ; and to my two dear children, with but a few 
 trifling exceptions, I leave the rest of what I possess. 
 I feel sure, that some way will be provided for you, 
 to leave this island, but till that time, I know, 
 Madame de Tremonille will give you a home 
 Kere " 
 
 Beatrice had risen, and stood motionless behind 
 his chair, the tears streaming down her face, but 
 she would not interrupt the precious words of her 
 dying father with any sudden outburst of grief. 
 She controlled herself to say : 
 
 "Dear Papa, all shall be as you wish I will 
 take care of Hetty." 
 
 " Do you think Mr. Campbell will be here this 
 evening, dearest?" said Mr. Evelyn; " I should
 
 130 GREATNESS IN LITJTLE THINGS. 
 
 like to see him once more before I die. I feel as if 
 I could encourage him to hold on. O ! the prize is 
 worth contending for ! I feel, I feel it is." 
 
 " Shall we send and tell him, dear Papa ?" said 
 Beatrice ; " I can send Nelly over to the Manse, if 
 you wish it ?" 
 
 " Do so, love ; I feel I have not long to be with 
 you, my Bee." 
 
 " Dear Papa, oh ! why do you say so ? you do not 
 look worse, this evening, than you have done of late. 
 I am sure, if you lie down, you will feel better." 
 
 Her father looked up at her, and there was on his 
 face such an expression of death, and yet of holy 
 calm, that Beatrice's countenance changed the 
 color left her face, and laying her head on his shoul- 
 der, she burst into tears. O ! Papa, Papa !" she 
 sobbed, " what shall I do without you ?" 
 
 " God comfort you, my own best child ; do not 
 grieve I am so happy, and our separation is but 
 for a little while." 
 
 Beatrice made no reply she lay perfectly still for 
 a few moments, and then glided softly out of the 
 room and went in search of Madame de Tremonille, 
 to whom she expressed her father's wish to see Mr. 
 Campbell. Nelly was instantly dispatched for him, 
 and Beatrice sat down on the sofa by her friend's 
 Bide, and told of all her father had just been 
 Baying.
 
 THE ARRIVAL. 131 
 
 " lie seems to feel his end near," continued she ; 
 " and oh ! I have been convinced of it, for the first 
 time, myself: he seemed to rally so often, I could 
 not fancy that the dreaded hour was so near. But 
 oh ! Isabelle, is it not glorious to see how a Chris- 
 tian can die ! My dear father ! he seems so happy. 
 He seems to long to be with Jesus." 
 
 " Yes, dear Beatrice, such an instance of triumph- 
 ant faith is very, very precious to other Christians. 
 It shows them that what they are striving after is not 
 a myth, a phantom, a dream ; but a certainty, suffi- 
 cient to uphold and comfort, when passing through 
 the dark valley. I feel, dear Beatrice, what a tie 
 there is between Christians. I esteem it an honor 
 to have entertained, in my house, one so ripe for 
 eternity as your father." 
 
 Beatrice kissed her, and a smile shone through 
 her tears as she did so. 
 
 Just then the clatter of a horse's hoofs was heard 
 coming up the avenue. It was Dr. Mason, and they 
 heard him pass through the veranda, and along the 
 passage to Mr. Evelyn's room. 
 
 " Stay, dear Beatrice," said Madame de Tremon- 
 ille, rising, " I will just go into the kitchen and tell 
 Pomio to station himself in the porch and watch for 
 the doctor's going out, that he may come in and tell 
 us the report."
 
 132 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 During this time, Blanche had been sitting in a 
 niohe of the window, half-shaded by the muslin 
 window-curtain ; Beatrice was first aware of her 
 presence by hearing a low sob proceeding from the 
 opposite end of the room, and looking up, she saw 
 Blanche sitting with her face between her hands, 
 crying bitterly. " Blanche, dear child, come here," 
 said Beatrice. 
 
 A tearful little face it was that was raised at hei 
 call, but springing forward, Blanche threw her arm? 
 round Beatrice's neck and wept afresh. 
 
 " What is the matter, dear Blanche ?" said Bea- 
 trice, gently kissing her. 
 
 " O ! dear Beatrice, I cannot bear to see you so 
 unhappy ; it is so dreadful to hear you cry, and 1 
 have just seemed to walk about, lately, and be near 
 you, and yet I dared not ask you how you felt, 01 
 how dear Mr. Evelyn was, and you never seemed te 
 speak to me yourself so I was afraid to trouble 
 you." 
 
 " Dear child ! forgive me," said Beatrice " I 
 know I ought to have spoken more to you, but I was 
 thinking so much, you know, of dear Papa; you 
 must not think me unkind I did not mean tc 
 be so." 
 
 " Oh! no, no," said Blanche, earnestly ; " I kmm 
 you would never do anything unkind, but I did so
 
 ME. CAMPBELL. 133 
 
 long for a word from you ; and then when you came 
 and cried so, talking to Mamma, why, I could not 
 help crying too." 
 
 " Well ! now, sit quietly here on my knee, dear ; 
 I cannot talk much now, for I am very anxious to 
 'know what Dr. Mason thinks of dear Papa. Here, 
 rest your head against my shoulder, and we will 
 wait together." 
 
 Madame de Tremonille looked anxious too ; her 
 work dropped from her fingers, and she sat alter- 
 nately looking at the door and at Beatrice. In 
 another minute or two, came a gentle tap at the 
 door, and a gentleman entered it was Mr. Camp- 
 bell. Madame de Tremonille rose to shake hands 
 with him, and whispered a few words to him, ex- 
 plaining the state of the case, and then they ad- 
 vanced to the sofa, and Beatrice roused herself to 
 welcome him. 
 
 "I am sorry to hear so bad an account of your 
 father, Miss Evelyn," said Mr. Campbell, seating 
 himself " at least, sorry for your sake ; for himself, 
 we cannot but rejoice that he hopes so soon to be 
 free." 
 
 Beatrice made a gesture of assent, but she did not 
 trust herself to speak. 
 
 " I had just come from seeing old Joe Ward," 
 said Mr. Campbell, turning to Madame de Tremon- 
 ille, "when your little messenger arrived. He is 
 9
 
 134: GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 lingering long, but he is very resigned and happy ; 
 have you seen him lately ?" 
 
 " I was there only the day before yesterday," was 
 the reply. " He is a remarkable instance, I think, 
 of the truth of that saying of our Saviour ' He hath 
 hid these things from the wise and prudent, and has 
 revealed them unto babes? What advantages of in- 
 struction and education has this poor old negro had ? 
 and yet he has as deep an experience in the things 
 of God, and as intimate a communion with Him, as 
 the most learned and talented could have. I am 
 sure it has often astonished me, when sitting by his 
 side, to perceive the depth of his acquaintance with 
 both the words of the Bible and their spiritual 
 meaning." 
 
 " O ! old "Ward has been a Christian for many 
 years, and living so near God, he has learned to 
 know something of Him." 
 
 Pomio now softly opened the door, and ushered 
 in Dr. Mason. As he advanced and greeted the 
 party, Mr. Campbell asked him how he found Mr. 
 Evelyn, for Beatrice dared not speak. 
 
 " I find him advanced a long way upon his jour- 
 ney," was the reply " he is almost on the river's 
 brink." 
 
 " How ? Doctor, is it indeed so near ?" said Ma- 
 dame de Tremonille, gently. 
 
 "I may not tell you otherwise the shadow of
 
 THE BENEDICTION. 135 
 
 this night will, I think, be the shadow of the valley 
 of death for him, and the morning's dawn shall 
 usher in the Sun of Righteousness which knows no 
 setting." 
 
 Beatrice gave a convulsive shudder, but hid her 
 face against Blanche's shoulder. 
 
 " Young lady," said the doctor, going up to her 
 "I must now go, for I have a patient waiting for 
 me ; but let me tell you one thing. I have found it a 
 blessing to attend upon your dear father. I feel my 
 own hopes 'brighter and my faith more settled. 
 Good-by! God bless you!" 
 
 Beatrice pressed his hand. After a few moments' 
 silence, Beatrice looked up "Oh !" she said, " this 
 is sudden is it not? I little thought it was so 
 near! Dear Papa! I must go to him, and not lose 
 the precious moments that are left." 
 
 Mr. Evelyn was lying quietly in bed, when Bea- 
 trice entered ; she went up and threw her arms 
 round him, saying " Oh! Papa, Papa!" 
 
 "My child!" said Mr. Evelyn, "the messenger 
 has come at last. I shall soon have done with pain, 
 and care, and sorrow. Look up, my Bee ! look up ! 
 it is all bright !" 
 
 '^1 will! Papa, I will!" sobbed she; "but the 
 parting is hard." 
 
 " Heavenly Father !" murmured the dying man, 
 " to Thy protection I leave this dear one. Hide her
 
 136 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 under the shadow of thy wings, O Lord ! A father's 
 fondest blessing rest on thee and thy sister, iny 
 child !" There was a pause. 
 
 "Is Mr. Campbell here, love?" 
 
 " Yes ! Papa, he is in the drawing-room with 
 Madame de Tremonille and Blanche." 
 
 " Tell them all to come, I want to see them once 
 more before I die." 
 
 Beatrice found Mrs. Moore waiting in the pas- 
 sage, and telling her to summon them, she returned 
 to her father's room, and sitting down on* a low chair, 
 she hid her face against the bed. 
 
 Mr. Evelyn held out his hand, as his friends came 
 softly into his room and it was gently pressed by 
 each of them. They stood around his bed. 
 
 "My dear sir," said he to Mr. Campbell, "fight 
 the good fight of faith ; do not be discouraged. I 
 find how blessed is the reward ; strive to gather in 
 souls to Christ to be zealous in his cause, and He 
 will strengthen your hands. We shall meet above ! 
 God bless you !" 
 
 " To you, dear Madam," said he, turning his eyes 
 on Madame de Tremonille, " let me offer my sincere 
 thanks for all your kindness to me and my daughter 
 since we have been here. God will bless you for it; 
 you are still young, work for Christ. You have 
 lost your dearest earthly friend ; let this knit your 
 heart closer to Jesus, I ask you to take care of my
 
 DEATH-BED PRAYER. 137 
 
 daughter, till her friends in America shall provide 
 an escort for her I know you will do this for a fel- 
 low Christian. 
 
 " What I have done or can do for her, I feel to be 
 nothing," was the reply ; " my house shall be her 
 home as long as ever she chooses to make it so." 
 
 "Thank you; the blessing of a dying man rest 
 on you." 
 
 " Blanche, dear little one, follow Christ ; give 
 Him your whole heart now, when you are young. 
 Be a comfort to your adopted mother, and repay her 
 kindness. The Lord bless you ! 
 
 " Let widow Moore and Pomio come in, and any 
 of the others who choose. I have a word for them." 
 
 The servants collected in a group at the foot of the 
 bed, while Mr. Evelyn gave them a parting charge 
 and benediction, and then Mr. Campbell made a 
 movement with his hand, and all knelt in prayer. 
 
 Prayer by the bed-side of the dying believer has 
 something in it peculiarly solemn. It is the last 
 mutual intercourse of the survivors and the depart- 
 ing, with that God to whose care the dear one is 
 about to be intrusted in such a solemn manner, both 
 body and soul. Mr. Evelyn seemed exhausted, at 
 the conclusion, and all left the room, after a parting 
 shake of the hand, with the exception of Beatrice 
 and also Mrs. Moore, who remained to watch with 
 her.
 
 138 GBEATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 It was nearly eight o'clock ; Mr. Evelyn fell into 
 a doze, and perfect silence reigned through the room. 
 Beatrice rose, when she saw he was asleep, and 
 walked to the window. It was open, for the night 
 was very warm, and as she leaned her head out, the 
 fresh land-breeze played on her hot cheeks. The 
 odor of the flowers came up sweetly from the garden 
 below; the fire-flies were dancing about among 
 the trees, and the saw-beetle was humming its mon- 
 otonous drone. A few stars were appearing, and 
 everything seemed to agree, in its calmness and 
 quiet, with the death -bed of a Christian. Solemn 
 thoughts of eternity filled Beatrice's mind, and she 
 stood, resting her head on her hand, in a kind of 
 mournful enjoyment. Once she raised her head, 
 startled, fancying she heard the sound of falling 
 rain, but it was only the wind rustling the dry 
 branches of the cocoa-nut trees. 
 
 After the lapse of about half an hour, Mrs. Moore 
 came and gently tapped her on the shoulder. 
 
 " Your Papa is awake, Missy, and he seemed to 
 look round for you ; do go to him. And do you 
 not think I had better light a candle, Missy ?" 
 
 "Yes, Mrs. Moore, do; but do not place it too 
 near the light might annoy him." 
 
 Beatrice walked up to the bed, and took her fa- 
 ther's hand. He pressed it slightly, and smiled at 
 her, and said: "I have no pain, love; Jesus is with
 
 THE CHRISTIAN DEATH-BED. 139 
 
 me. He makes my dying bed easy. Dear Lord, I 
 come to Thee 1" 
 
 After speaking at intervals for a short time, he 
 seemed to doze again. 
 
 "Mrs. Moore," said Beatrice, "how clear and 
 bright all is with him! May we find it so at our 
 last hour." 
 
 "It is indeed, Missy; 'the Lord comforteth the 
 souls of his saints ;' and he has promised to be with 
 them in the dark valley." 
 
 Madame de Tremonille stole softly in, several times, 
 to comfort Beatrice ; once she brought her, with her 
 own hands, a cup of tea, and made her drink it ; 
 and again she came and remained, while Mrs. Moore 
 went out of the room to have her supper, that Bea- 
 trice might not be left alone in case of Mr. Evelyn's 
 sudden departure. 
 
 At eleven o'clock, he again awoke. "My Bee, 
 read to me about Christian going over the river." 
 
 Beatrice understood him, and fetching a small 
 edition of the Pilgrim's Progress, which lay on his 
 dressing-table, she turned to the passage and read it 
 in a low, clear voice. 
 
 " Thank you, love, I am nearly in the river ; I 
 feel as though my feet were touching its waters. 
 Dear Saviour, receive me !" 
 
 Widow Moore raised the quilt and put her hand 
 on his feet. They were icy cold. She beckoned to 
 12
 
 140 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 Beatrice, and whispesed : " He '11 not be kept long 
 waiting now, Missy." 
 
 Mr. Evelyn seemed to lie in a dreamy state for 
 some minutes. Presently he spoke again : " I see 
 them ! I see the shining ones !" he said, faintly, 
 "and my Mary is among them." He spoke no 
 more, and about half past two o'clock, with a gentle 
 sigh, he breathed his last! Widow Moore made a 
 sign to Beatrice that all was over they sank on 
 their knees in prayer no word was spoken 
 they were alone with the dead ! 
 
 In a short time, Mrs. Moore rose and said to Bea- 
 trice: 
 
 " Missy, yon had better go now ; I have some 
 things to attend to here, and you must try and get 
 some sleep." 
 
 Beatrice shook her head, but went out. 
 
 She walked along the passage to Madame de Tre- 
 monille's room, and knocking at the door, found hei 
 awake. 
 
 " Is that you, dear Beatrice ?" she said ; "I have 
 been several times to the door to listen if I could 
 hear your father's voice but all was so still." 
 
 " He is gone !" said Beatrice ; "we shall never 
 more hear hi& voice. Oh ! Papa !" 
 
 "He is at rest," said Madame de Tremonille, 
 " Come, dear, and lie down by me."
 
 THE CHBISTIAN DEATH-BED. 141 
 
 Beatrice could say no more her heart was too full 
 to speak and putting her arm round her friend, she 
 lay down by her side, and wearied, with fatigue and 
 watching, she fell toward morning into a troubled 
 doze. 
 
 " No voice in the chamber, 
 No sound in the hall ; 
 Sleep and oblivion 
 fieign over all." LONGFELLOW,
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 " Wo will be patient and assuage the feeling, 
 
 "We may not wholly stay 
 By silence sanctifying, not concealing, 
 The grief that must have sway." LONGFELLOW. 
 
 AT sunset the following day, the little funeral 
 procession moved from Palm Hill, bearing Mr. 
 Evelyn's earthly remains to their last resting-place. 
 He was laid in the burial-ground of the little Scotch 
 church; and Mr. Campbell gave a touching and 
 solemn address to the mourners, among whom were 
 Mr. Gisborne, and Dr. Mason, and all Madame de 
 Tremonille's servants. Beatrice did not go she 
 had no mourning prepared; and, beside, she was 
 afraid, lest, by not being able to control her feelings, 
 she might disturb the solemnity of the scene. She 
 remained alone in her room, engaged in prayer. 
 
 The party dispersed after the funeral. Tea was 
 set in the veranda, and Madame de Tremonille and 
 Blanche sat there, quietly chatting together in the 
 twilight. There was a sadness over little Blanche's 
 
 spirits, visible, in the unusual quietness of her 
 ( 142 )
 
 DEPARTED SPIRITS. 143 
 
 demeanor. She brought a little stool, and placing it 
 at her aunt's feet, she laid her head in her lap. Ma- 
 dame de Tremonille stroked her soft curls, and kissed 
 her fondly ; but Blanche lay still, looking out into 
 the garden. "Mamma," she said, "do people, 
 when they are dead, know what happens on earth ? 
 Do dear Papa and Uncle Eugene know anything 
 about us ?" 
 
 "My darling, I fully believe it. I believe the 
 spirits of those we love, are often near us. You 
 know the spirit, Blanche, means that part of us 
 which thinks and feels, but which we cannot see ; it 
 is our real selves for our bodies, you. know, are 
 only called ' tabernacles,' that is, tents or coverings, 
 for our spirits to dwell in. At the last day, our 
 spirits will have tabernacles again, only they will be 
 bright and beautiful ones not full of sickness and 
 pain, as these bodies are. Do you understand me, 
 darling?" 
 
 "Yes, Mamma, I think I do; but what do you 
 mean when you say, a spirit is in heaven ? A spirit 
 cannot wear white robes, and play on a golden 
 harp?" 
 
 " "Well, dear, we are not given to understand per- 
 fectly the state of the soul after death ; but in some 
 way or other, the souls of believers are certainly 
 perfectly happy, and with God. I think that descrip- 
 tion of the white robes, and the palms, and the
 
 144 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 mansions in the heavenly city, must all refer to 
 what will take place after the judgment day." 
 
 " Mamma, it is so wonderful to think of our last- 
 ing forever !" 
 
 "It is indeed, my child ; the idea of Eternity is 
 beyond wnat our minds can grasp. It has been 
 illustrated in a most forcible manner, by an old 
 writer. He says : ' Suppose a bird were to under- 
 take to remove this whole earth to some other place, 
 and this bird were but able to carry one single grain 
 at a time, and that it should take her a thousand years 
 to fly to the place where she had to deposit it, that 
 when all this earth, with its mountains and valleys, 
 and plains, should have been removed in this man- 
 ner, we should still be as far from the end of eternity 
 as we were before the bird began to carry a single 
 grain.' This is the idea he expresses, though they 
 are not the exact words." 
 
 " Mamma, it is almost too wonderful ! I wonder 
 that knowing this, does not make people think of 
 their souls more." 
 
 " My dear child, people know many things with- 
 out believing them ; that is, without applying, that 
 knowledge practically to themselves. They seem to 
 go on, living in a kind of dream, believing in their 
 head, that the Bible is true, but their heart is 
 untouched by it, and they wake up to see their folly 
 when it is too late."
 
 BEATRICE'S RESIGNATION. 145 
 
 " Mamma, we ought to try and wake up as many 
 people as we can, ought we not ?" 
 
 "Yes! indeed, my darling' may God give us 
 strength to do so but now I think I will go and see 
 if dear Beatrice will join us ; poor girl, she must 
 feel so lonely. "We must try and make her as happy 
 as we can, while she is with us, Blanche." 
 
 " I think I will run out, before it is too dark, and 
 get her some flowers," said Blanche " they often do 
 me good when I feel sorry." She tripped lightly 
 out, and Madame de Tremonille looked fondly after 
 her, as the little white figure disappeared among the 
 trees, round the corner of the garden. 
 
 There was something too holy and happy about 
 her father's death, for it to be in accordance with 
 Beatrice's feelings to yield to any violent or exclu- 
 sive grief. She felt his loss much, it is true, but 
 yet she felt much calmer than even she herself had 
 anticipated. An hour's communion with God, had 
 made the things of time, earthly sorrows and cares, 
 seem as very light, compared with the " glory that 
 shall be revealed." And it was with a heart nerved 
 to do her duty calmfully and trustfully, and with a 
 Countenance serene, though not joyful, that she 
 walked to meet Madame de Tremonille, when the 
 latter entered her room. 
 
 " Dear Beatrice !" said her friend, gently kissing 
 her ; " do you think you could come and take tea,
 
 146 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 quietly, with little Blanche and me ? we should be very 
 glad if you would come, but please yourself about it." 
 
 "I will come !" said Beatrice; "I should like it, 
 dear Isabelle. Come, let us go !" 
 
 "Where is Blanche?" continued she, as they 
 reached the veranda. 
 
 " She will be here in a minute ; she ran into the 
 garden just now," was the reply. 
 
 In two or three minutes, a light footstep was 
 heard stealing softly in ; it was now so dark they 
 could scarcely see one another's face. Blanche 
 threw her arms round Beatrice's neck, and said 
 " I have been to fetch you something to do you 
 good, dear Beatrice smell these flowers !" 
 . " Thank you very much, darling, they are just 
 what I like!" 
 
 " Blanche ! run and tell Pomio to bring candles 
 here," said her aunt, "or else it will not be possi- 
 ble for me to pour out the tea." 
 
 Candles were brought, and with their coming, 
 they had to close the jalousies and door of the 
 veranda, or otherwise the entrance of the light would 
 be a signal for the invasion of such a swarm of 
 moths, mosquitoes, and insects of all kinds, as effec- 
 tually to interrupt conversation. 
 
 After they had seated themselves at the tea-table, 
 Madame de Tremonille said, in a gentle and almost
 
 KIND CONSIDERATIONS. 147 
 
 hesitating voice "I can go early, to-morrow morn- 
 ing, into the town, and get such things as you may 
 require for your mourning, if you wish me to do so, 
 dear Beatrice. I was thinking that, perhaps, you 
 might not wish to go yourself, and you can tell me 
 just what you want." 
 
 Beatrice understood her kind consideration, and 
 felt grateful for it. " Thank you !" she replied, " I 
 should be very glad to have it as soon as possible, 
 and I think I had rather stay quietly here at home 
 a little while ; beside," she added, " I feel I must 
 make up my mind to write home and tell them all 
 ofof" 
 
 She could not finish the sentence, and laying her 
 head down on her hands, her frame, for a few min- 
 utes, shook with convulsive grief. 
 
 "Dear Beatrice !" said Madame de Tremonille, 
 softly, after a pause "had you rather I should 
 write ?" 
 
 " No ! thank you," was the reply ; " I think I will 
 write to Walter, and let him break it to dear Hetty 
 and Aunt Louisa." 
 
 " How soon do you think you might expect an 
 answer from them?" 
 
 '' In about five or six weeks, I should think." 
 
 It was then arranged that widow Moore's daugh- 
 ter-in-law, Lucy, should come to the house for a lew 
 days to assist in making the mourning, and after 
 13
 
 14:8 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 some further conversation, the servants were sum- 
 moned to prayers, and the whole family retired for 
 the night. Beatrice's sojourn at Palm Hill, while 
 awaiting a letter from New York, was made as plea- 
 sant as possible to her by all her friends. Madame 
 de Tremonille's kindness was unceasing; she was 
 not, indeed, one of those who would seek to banish 
 the loss of a dear friend from the mind, by a round 
 of amusements her good feeling, and her own deep 
 and recent loss, forbade this, but she had so many 
 useful plans afloat, and had so much life and energy, 
 that Beatrice wao always interested and occupied, 
 and that did much to prevent brooding over trouble. 
 Among other things, Beatrice began to teach little 
 Nelly, Pomio's daughter, to read telling Blanche 
 that she should leave her under her charge when she 
 returned to America. Nelly was an apt pupil, but 
 rather inclined to be lazy ; she had also an invinci- 
 ble propensity for lying a habit but too common 
 among the negro children in the West Indies. She 
 always appeared to say that which she thought 
 would please the person addressing her, without any 
 regard at all to the truth of what she was saying. 
 One day Madame de Tremonille sent her to Mr. 
 Campbell's house with a message, and on her return, 
 she described what the minister was doing, and 
 entered so minutely into particulars as to say, that 
 she found the garden-gate open. Now it appeared
 
 LITTLE NELLY. 149 
 
 afterward that this message was never delivered at 
 all, that the child had never been near the house, 
 having gone off to play in another direction, and 
 yet she never hesitated at all in her story. Poor 
 Nelly! her moral sense seemed exceedingly dead- 
 i ened, and Beatrice scarcely knew what to do with 
 her. She was an affectionate little thing, though, 
 after all. Her features, for a negro, were not at all 
 unpleasant ; she had very bright sparkling eyes, and 
 seemed invariably to dress in the brightest of pink 
 calicoes, with handkerchiefs of every variety of hue 
 tied round her head, below which used to escape 
 little plaited ends of frizzled hair, tied with any 
 string that could be got hold of. Some of Nelly's 
 ideas were very primitive. One day when Beatrice 
 was teaching her her lessons, she said to her : 
 
 " Missy, one woman tell me, to-day, dat de sun 
 nebber shine in England, where Missis come from, 
 (pointing to Madame de Tremonille, who was 
 working in the room,) and dat when dey wash 
 clothes, dey have to dry ' em by the fire ! Ha, ha !" 
 and Nelly chuckled at the idea of the barbarous 
 country. 
 
 Beatrice and Madame de Tremonille laughed, 
 the latter said: " "Well, Nelly, I can tell you that the 
 sun does shine there, and very brightly too; but 
 there is a time of the year, called Winter, when it ia 
 
 cold and wet, and the sun is not so hot, and then 
 10
 
 150 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 people do really sometimes have to dry clothes by 
 the fire."* 
 
 " Well, come, Nelly, if you are satisfied, let us go 
 on reading," said Beatrice. 
 
 Mr. Campbell often came over from the Manse to 
 spend a qniet evening with them : he was such a su- 
 perior young man that his company was always a 
 source of pleasure and gratification. He got Beatrice 
 to interest herself in several of his plans for good, 
 among his people, and asked her to take a class in 
 his school. One evening, about sunset, Madame 
 de Tremonille sent Nelly to ask him to come over 
 and take tea with them. Nelly returned to say, 
 that Mr. Campbell was with old Joe Ward, but that 
 his servant said, she would tell him when he 
 came in. 
 
 ." How long old Ward lingers," said Beatrice. 
 
 " Yes, indeed," said Madame de Tremonille ; 
 " but I heard this afternoon, from Lucy, that he 
 seemed very low to-day, and that she thought he 
 could not last long." 
 
 "It will be a ' happy release,' in the true sense of 
 the word," said Beatrice. 
 
 " You may well say, in the true sense of the 
 word ; it often pains me to hear persons thought- 
 lessly apply the sentence, when speaking of the death 
 
 * Nelly's character is drawn from that of a little negro servant of 
 the author.
 
 OLD JOE. 151 
 
 of those to whom their departure from the body must 
 be anything but a happy release of those whose 
 happiness lay in this world, and this world only. 
 But in old Joe's case we have had evidence that 
 his treasure is above." 
 
 Just that minute there came a gentle knock at the 
 door, and Mr. Campbell entered. After shaking 
 hands with Madame de Tremonille and Beatrice, 
 he said : " I have just come from a happy death- 
 bed old Joe is at rest. His little grand-daughter 
 came to tell me, about half an hour ago, that he 
 seemed very near his end, and that Mrs. Moore, who 
 was with him, wished me to come up. I had not 
 been ten minutes in the house before he breathed 
 his last. His senses seemed quite clear to the end, 
 and he spoke to me several times. 
 
 "Massa Campbell," said he, when I came in, 
 "I'm gwine, at last, to my Saviour! Oh! dear 
 Jesus I 'm berry happy to come to Thee." Again, 
 he said, after a pause of two or three minutes, 
 "Massa Campbell, will you bury me underneath 
 dem large trees on de side of de hill, where I used 
 to go fur to seek de Lord ? I should like to lie dere." 
 
 I assured him it should be as he wished. The 
 trees, I believe, are on Mr. Gisborne's estate, 
 but I have no doubt I shall be able to arrange the 
 matter with him. A little while before he died he 
 said : " Tell Miss Evelyn, the young lady at the hill,
 
 152 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 that I'm gwine to see her dear father, and help him 
 to sing praises yes! help-him help-him oh! 
 that will be joyful ! joyful ! joyful " and giving a 
 sort of sigh of satisfaction, his freed spirit was 
 away. 
 
 The tears stood in Beatrice's eyes at this reference 
 to her father. Mr. Campbell rose and walked to the 
 window. 
 
 "O! do just look at your little Blanche, Madame 
 de Tremonille," said he, " how hard she is working 
 at cleaning that flower-bed ; and she seems to have 
 imbued Nelly with her own energetic spirit too, for 
 a time ; look at her carrying backward and forward 
 the watering pans of water for the plants." 
 
 Madame de Tremonille rose and looked out. 
 Blanche was kneeling on a piece of old matting, with 
 her white frock carefully pinned up behind, rooting 
 away among the weeds with an old knife, with all 
 her might occasionally stopping to direct Nelly's 
 energies in the way of watering. 
 
 " Suppose we go and look at the little gardener," 
 said Madame de Tremonille; "the evening is de- 
 lightful now." 
 
 "Well done, Blanche," said Mr. Campbell, as they 
 approached; "if you want to keep your aunt's gar- 
 den all in such pattern neatness as that plot, I think 
 you will have to get me to help you the weeds grow 
 so very fast here, almost like Jack's bean-stalk."
 
 THE GAKDEN. 153 
 
 Blanche started, and then laughed merrily a; 
 being surprised " thank you, Mr. Campbell," she 
 said, " when I have anything very hard to do, I will 
 send for you ; but, you know, this piece is my own 
 garden, that mamma gave me to take care of, and 
 keep for myself the worst of it is," she continued, 
 sighing "I cannot keep those tiresome chickens 
 from coming in, and scratching up the ground, and 
 spoiling the looks of it." 
 
 " Well now, what can be done 2" said Mr. Camp- 
 bell, kindly "I have it. You see, Blanche, this 
 garden of yours, is a large piece, and those trees at 
 the back of it, with the wall behind, protect it well 
 there now do you not think, that you and I could 
 manage to put up a nice little paling all round it, 
 and a little gate in front? Eh ! what do you think 
 of that plan ? and then you might clip your chickens' 
 wings, so that they could not fly over, without 
 hurting them at all " 
 
 "Well, that would be a very nice plan, said 
 Blanche thoughtfully, but how could I get at the 
 bed, to tidy it, if the paling were in the way ?" 
 
 "Well," said Mr. Campbell, "if your aunt will 
 give us leave, we will inclose a slip of the lawn in- 
 side the paling, so as to leave room for you to walk 
 lound your garden, and we can make a nice little 
 j.ath right up the middle."
 
 154 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 "O! thank you," said Blanche, clapping her 
 hands, " that will be charming when will you corne 
 and begin ?" 
 
 "Well, to-morrow evening, perhaps, if I am not 
 very busy ; if I can, I will come for a little time in 
 the cool of the morning only you must promise to 
 be up to help me " 
 
 " Indeed I will, said Blanche, I always get up 
 rery, very early." 
 
 " I have been getting some trellis- work made, to 
 put over the porch, at the Manse," said Mr. Camp- 
 bell, " and some of the pieces of lath which are left, 
 will do capitally for our paling." 
 
 " Well, we will leave you to your weeding now, 
 Blanche," said her aunt, "let us all go, and take a 
 walk down the road, Mr. Campbell ; the evening is 
 too pleasant to go in-doors, yet." 
 
 " I suppose, you intend training creepers over 
 your trellis-work, Mr. Campbell," said Beatrice 
 
 "Yes," said he, "I do so love to see, what is 
 beautiful around me ; I think, as far as we can, we 
 should surround our homes with the lovely and 
 simple objects of nature. I often think that the 
 appearance of a man's house and garden, is a sort 
 of index to his mind and character." 
 
 " Indeed, it is," said Madame de Tremonille, "I 
 often think, too, that without allowing our minds 
 to become at all absorbed by the luxuries and
 
 PICTURES USEFUL. 155 
 
 pleasures of this life, we should be feelingly alive 
 to the perception of whatever is beautiful. Whatever 
 is beautiful is good ; that is, the beauty in the cib 
 ject, is a sort of glimpse of perfection a revelation, 
 a foreshadowing from above whether it is a beauti- 
 ful landscape, or a lovely face, or even a picture or 
 statue, or any other work of art. " I remember 
 reading, I think it was in Lord Lindsay's ' Christian 
 Art,'" said Mr. Campbell, in reference to some 
 of the old masters some of the finest painters the 
 world has ever produced " that before they began 
 to paint a picture, they would kneel down and pray 
 to God, to inspire their efforts to help them to. 
 form just conceptions of their subjects, which were 
 mostly taken from sacred history. Now how many 
 of their pictures seem to raise and exalt the mind, 
 when gazing at them. Look at Titian's ' Last Supper,' 
 or Michael Angelo's ' Judgment,' or some of Carlo 
 Dolci's exquisite heads of Christ, and many others." 
 " I remember," said Madame de Tremonille, 
 " the intense delight I experienced, when my pa- 
 rents took me, while we were staying in London, 
 previous to our sailing for this country, to see sev- 
 eral of the best collections both of pictures and sta- 
 tuary. To gaze thus on the embodied conceptions 
 of loveliness, produced by the noblest souls, seemed 
 to raise my mind to a sort of rapture of sympathy, 
 If I may so say "
 
 156 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 " And yet, in some of these pictures, we see de- 
 picted some of the most disgusting legends cf the 
 Romish Church," said Mr. Campbell ; " look at 
 the marriage of St. Catharine, for instance that is 
 quite blasphemous, I think." 
 
 " That is very true," replied Madame de Tremon- 
 ille, " in many other instances. I confess, I have felt ! 
 displeased myself, when looking at some of the pic- 
 tures of the Virgin and Child ; in those especially, 
 where the Saviour is made a subordinate object. 
 
 " And -yet," said Beatrice, " the simple idea of 
 the Virgin Mary, as the Mother of Jesus, and of 
 his being a little helpless infant, in her lap, is so 
 beautiful, that I do not wonder at its having been 
 chosen as a subject for painting some of the Madon- 
 nas; Raphael's especially seem, from the prints I 
 have seen from his pictures, to be represented as 
 lost in love and adoration for the holy Infant, 
 which is as it should be. Look at the ' Vierge de 
 la Chaise,' for instance, where the attention both 
 of the Virgin and the young John the Baptist, seems 
 entirely centered in the Divine Child." 
 
 "That is true," said Madame de Tremonille, "I 
 think we should try and admire whatever is good 
 and beautiful in every picture, and condemn all that 
 is erroneous and discordant if our minds are true 
 and right toward God, we shall be enabled readily 
 to discern what is of Him, and what is not."
 
 THE PKETTY IDEA. 157 
 
 " You are very right," replied Mr. Campbell ; "I 
 remember that, when reading the book I referred to, 
 (Lord Lindsay's Christian Art,) I saw that some 
 indeed, I may say very many of the legends which 
 furnished subjects for pictures, consisted of fabulous 
 stories invented by the Romish priests, and which 
 were calculated to do a great deal of harm. Some 
 of them, however, contained ideas of much beauty. 
 I remember, now we speak of it, one of them, which 
 mentions Mary Magdalene as having existed, after 
 the death of our Lord, in a state of such holiness 
 and happy calm of soul, that she was filled with 
 love to God in such a degree, that it served her both 
 for meat and drink, and she retired, sustained by 
 that alone, to a desert place, to hold communion 
 with her risen Lord. The idea struck me as a 
 pretty one, and I remember versifying it, during a 
 leisure hour, while I was a student." 
 
 " Could you remember the words, Mr. Camp- 
 bell ?" said Beatrice. 
 
 " I think I can. I will repeat them to you, if you 
 will listen so long : 
 
 " She shone in the desert, a form of light, 
 That maid rob'd in vesture of purest white; 
 In the wide sandy waste, in the sulphurous air, 
 How might one so beautiful harbor there ? 
 
 " Tne fierce summer-sun, in its noontide blaze, 
 Only poured all around her its softest rays;
 
 158 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 Which lingered and glanced, as if fain to tell, 
 
 They ne'er should meet aught they could love so well. 
 
 " Not a palm-tree waved 'gainst the lurid sky, 
 Save the cluster that grew o'er her, dark and high, 
 Not a single green leaflet its nurture found, 
 Not a gurgling brook laved the thirsty ground: 
 
 "Yet, in calm peace, she rested, nor faded away, 
 As beauteous at eve as at breaking of day; 
 And the meat she was fed with, was heavenly love, 
 Tuned softly from gold harps of angels above. 
 
 " And every morn, at the sun's rising hour, 
 Lest her spirit should faint 'neath its fierce noontide power, 
 Lo! a group of bright messengers bore her on high, 
 And a seraph's spread wing was her canopy. 
 
 " In the shadowy region where mystery has birth, 
 "Where it scarcely seems heaven, yet oh! 't is not earth; 
 She listened, entranced, to that ravishing strain, 
 And her sprit's love bloomed into brightness again. 
 
 " So again, when the sun, 'neath yon broad line of saud, 
 Had left to cool shadows the thirsty land; 
 And pillowed on ether the soft clouds lay, 
 Or stretched into nothingness far away: 
 
 " Ol how her blest hours all in rapture flew by, 
 With a heart tuned to praise, and her God ever nigh; 
 What to her were the sun's beams or shadows of night, 
 With a spirit thrilled through with ecstatic delight I 
 
 " And ever anon her tranced lips moved slow, 
 As if conning some melody sweet and low; 
 Which was tuned to her ear by the spirits on high, 
 In strairs of divinest harmony.
 
 CONTEMPLATION. 153 
 
 "Thank you," said Madame de Tremonille, "I 
 like that idea of calm, contemplative love. It seems 
 to give one some faint conception of the state of the 
 glorified body after the resurrection. I suppose the 
 sensations of rapture will be such that a thousand 
 years will be as one day." 
 
 " I remember," replied Mr. Campbell, " seeing 
 that thought beautifully illustrated in a poem by 
 Trench, called, I think, ' The Monk and the Bird.' 
 He represents the Monk as doubting the possibility 
 of perfect happiness in a future state, without some 
 variety of employment. Walking, one day, in a 
 wood, God causes him to hear a bird singing such 
 ravishing notes that he is spell-bound, and when he 
 returns home to his brother-monks, he finds that he 
 has been years absent that they have become old 
 men while he was listening to the exquisite song, so 
 lost in admiration as not to perceive the flight of 
 time. I cannot remember the verses, but this is the 
 sense of them." 
 
 " I think," said Beatrice, " that although it would 
 not, of course, be right for us to retire entirely from 
 the world and give ourselves up to contemplation 
 and prayer, as God' has given each of us a duty to 
 perform in this life; yet still, a near approach to 
 this feeling of which yon have been speaking, is 
 sometimes attained by experienced Christians when 
 engaged in prayer. I remember a nurse we had,
 
 160 GREATNESS IK LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 when I was a child, who used often to become so 
 lost in prayer as to be entirely unconscious of any 
 outward objects her thoughts would seem to rise, 
 she would say, ' right up to heaven.' She remained 
 with us till I was about fifteen, and able to converse 
 with her on such subjects. After she left us, she 
 went to live in a small house not very far from ours, 
 with a brother who was a widower, and I used often 
 to go and see her. She fell into bad health, after a 
 time, and about three years ago she died. I remem- 
 ber, one day, saying to her, * How glad you will be, 
 Nurse, to see the Saviour you have loved so long !' 
 She said, impressively: 'Miss Beatrice, I have seen 
 my Saviour several times. Sometimes I have seemed 
 to get so near to Him that He has given me a 
 glimpse of himself. Yes, I feel I have seen Him.' 
 Now, I dare not call this imagination or enthu- 
 siasm." 
 
 "I think you are right," said Mr. Campbell, 
 thoughtfully ; " it is certain that the nearer a Chris- 
 tian lives to God, the clearer is the revelation he 
 gives of himself." 
 
 "I am afraid we must be going in now," said 
 Madame de Tremonille; "the dew is falling quite 
 heavily." 
 
 " Mr. Campbell," said Beatrice, as they entered 
 the house, "who is to take charge of old Ward's 
 grandchild she seems left quite without friends?"
 
 EVENING SOIEEE. 161 
 
 ""Well, she seems to have found one in widow 
 Moore," was the reply ; " she says, she will take 
 care of the little thing, to keep it out of harm's way, 
 and Lucy says, she shall be glad to have her to take 
 charge of her baby while she is sewing. I believe 
 she is a good needle-woman, and might earn a good 
 deal that way." 
 
 " She is," said Beatrice ; " but I must run into 
 the garden and call Blanche, that child will catch 
 cold in her enthusiasm for gardening." 
 
 The rest of the evening was spent in pleasant con- 
 versation, enlivened with music, by both Madame 
 de Tremonille and Beatrice. The piano at Palm 
 Hill had been hired from a Jew dealer in the town, 
 who kept a tolerable supply most of his stock being 
 purchased from merchants and others leaving the 
 island. It was a tolerably good one, and both our 
 friends had sweet voices, and sang duets together 
 delightfully. Blanche was learning to play, Bea- 
 trice being her music-mistress for the present, as she 
 insisted on taking the drudgery of teaching the rudi- 
 ments off Madame de Tremonille's hands. Beatrice 
 had brought a small supply of new music with her 
 from New York, and this she gladly added to her 
 friend's stock, knowing that it is difficult to procure 
 good new music in the "West Indies. 
 
 When Mr. Campbell spent the evening at Palm 
 Hill he always read prayers to the household, who
 
 162 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 were all much attached to him indeed, so were all 
 his people and scarcely a day passed by without 
 some of the negroes coming to his house with an 
 offering of a fowl, some honey, or yams, or some 
 other trifle for "good Massa Campbell." 
 
 The next morning, while Madame de Tremonille 
 and Beatrice were sitting quietly at work in the 
 drawing-room, chatting together, with little Blanche 
 learning her lessons in her favorite nook, in the win- 
 dow, they heard the sound of carriage- wheels coming 
 up the hill, and presently Pomio ushered in Mary 
 and Caroline Gisborne. They were lively, voluble 
 girls, with plenty of fun and conversation. 
 
 "My dear girls," said Madame de Tremonille, 
 " how could you think of coming out in this hot sun, 
 at this time of day, in that open phaeton ? why yon 
 will quite spoil your English complexions." 
 
 "Oil don't think there's much of them left 
 already," said Caroline, laughing; "there's Mary 
 there, as brown as a berry ; she always persists in 
 rushing about the garden at home, without any 
 bonnet." 
 
 "Bushing about the garden, Caroline! why, what 
 nonsense you talk," said Mary, who had established 
 herself on the sofa by Beatrice's side, and had 
 thrown off her bonnet ; "I only run across to the 
 kitchen sometimes, to give directions to old Sally, 
 or, perhaps, to the coop, to feed my chickens ;
 
 BATHING PLACE. 163 
 
 and it is not worth while to dress one's self for 
 that." 
 
 " "Well, I have been longer in the country than 
 you have," said Madame de Tremonille, "and I 
 really advise you to be careful, Mary. I knew a 
 gentleman, a friend of my father's, who had a sun- 
 stroke from incautiously exposing himself to the 
 heat, and he has been weak in his mind ever 
 since." 
 
 " Dear me," said Caroline, laughing, " that will 
 quite account for some of your vagaries of late, 
 Mary ; you had better take care or you will become 
 quite crazy." 
 
 " Caroline ! how can you be so absurd. I am 
 quite as sane as yourself," rejoined her sister. 
 
 " How delightfully cool and pleasant it is up here," 
 said Caroline; "there seems much more air than 
 there is at Shady Grove, and you have such a pretty 
 peep at the sea, too, from this window. It looks so 
 bright and sparkling I sometimes long for a dip. 
 Don't you remember the fun we used to have with 
 the old bathing- women at Hastings, Mary ?" 
 
 " I know of a delightful place for bathing, about 
 a mile and a half from here," said Madame de Tre- 
 monille. " My father's church was in that direction, 
 and in the course of my explorations, before I was 
 married, I discovered the place, and often bathed 
 there myself." 
 14
 
 164 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 " Hovr can there be any place for bathing only 
 a mile and a half from here ?" said Beatrice, " I 
 thought we were three miles from the sea." 
 
 " So we are, in the direction of the town ; but if 
 you follow a steepish path down the road immedi- 
 ately behind this house, you will see a place where 
 the land treads in considerably, forming a small 
 bay, and the sea is here generally delightfully 
 smooth, and the shore is protected by high rocks." 
 
 "O! I'm sure the thing might be managed," 
 said Mary, gleefully, "if we started by five in the 
 morning, do not you, dear Beatrice ? and you know, 
 Caroline and I could come up from Shady Grove on 
 our ponies, and then take them with us to help the 
 tired ones of the party." 
 
 " Yes ! and we will take Nelly with us to help to 
 carry the bathing accouterments," said Madame de 
 Tremonille. So it was arranged, and after chatting 
 some time and taking lunch at Palm Hill, Caroline 
 and Mary left, promising to be there punctually at 
 five the following morning. 
 
 " O ! the luxuriant freshness of a morning in the 
 tropics!" thought Beatrice, as she rose and looked 
 out of her window just as the gray dawn was break- 
 ing next day there was such a delightful fragranco 
 in the air such a dewy calm, that it filled her with 
 delight. She made, however, a hasty toilette, for 
 she had heard the sound of ponies' feet trotting up
 
 BATHING. 165 
 
 the avenue some minutes before, and on passing 
 through into the veranda, she found Caroline and 
 Mary awaiting her. 
 
 "Well! Beatrice, isn't this delightful?" said 
 Caroline, enthusiastically ; " you see we have come 
 quite in dishabille ; these cotton wrappers are capi- 
 tal, are they not ?" 
 
 " Just the thing," said Beatrice ; " I suppose we 
 are not likely to meet any one, and I am going to 
 take my old American sun-bonnet, it will be so nice 
 to cover my wet hair as we are coming home." 
 
 Just then Madame de Treinonille joined them, 
 and after wishing all the party good morning, she 
 said " I have enlisted Jeannette's services also, 
 for we shall want some one to stand at the entrance 
 of the path to prevent intruders. O! here she 
 comes with Blanche and Nelly." 
 
 The road to the shore was soon traversed ; being 
 all down hill, it was easy work, and when they arrived 
 at the spot, many were the exclamations of delight 
 and rapture which burst from all lips. A low fringe 
 of trees skirted the shore, effectually screening it 
 from the road. Through these a narrow foot-path 
 had been made ; the rocks were uneven, gradually 
 shelving toward the water, which rippled clear and 
 sparkling at their feet. In one place there were 
 natural stepping-stones, forming an easy means of 
 descent, and the water for some twenty yards out, 
 11
 
 166 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 was only four or five feet deep, and clear white sand 
 sparkled at the bottom. It was the beau-ideal of a 
 place for bathing, and there were screams of delight 
 from Mary and Caroline. The sun had not yet 
 risen and it was delightfully cool, and very soon 
 there was a merry party splashing about in the 
 water. Blanche remained under Madame de Tre- 
 monille's care, glad, indeed, to do so, being some- 
 what afraid of going out of her depth. 
 
 After they had been in a few minutes, Nelly, who 
 was sitting on the rocks with their clothes, called 
 out in a plaintive voice "Missy Beatrice, may I 
 come in de water ?" 
 
 "Well! Nelly, perhaps you had better stay till 
 Jeannette is at liberty, and then you can bathe 
 together." 
 
 " Oh ! Missy, let me stay in all de time, while 
 she bathe and while you bathe, me can swim like 
 fish, Missy." 
 
 "Well! then, come on!" and presently Nelly's 
 little dark form was seen to plunge fearlessly off the 
 point of a rock into some rather deep water which 
 lay on the other side. 
 
 " Take care, take care, Nelly!" called Blanche, 
 but the little thing was splashing about in great glee, 
 and now came swimming quickly toward the party, 
 using that peculiar paddling motion common among 
 the negro children. She soon ventured out to sea
 
 THE SHAEK. 167 
 
 for a considerable distance, and the rest of the party 
 forgot her for a time. 
 
 They were amusing themselves by trying to float 
 and swim, when on a sudden Caroline Gisborne 
 uttered an exclamation in a tone of horror, and stood 
 upright in the water ; her companions looked at her 
 in amazement, and saw her turn very white and 
 point with her finger out to sea. Above the crest 
 of a wave was to be seen a dark object, slowly ap- 
 proaching the shore it was the fin of an enormous 
 shark. " Where is Nelly?" cried all voices; "Nelly! 
 Nelly! child, swim for your life!" But the poor 
 child, though she heard them, and was several yards 
 nearer the shore than the monster, could not move a 
 muscle, so paralyzed was she by terror at the sight 
 of the shark. They saw it approach her, and then 
 rose one long fearful scream from the water, and 
 with a cry of horror, the rest of the party fled has- 
 tily to the rocks for safety, though in truth, the 
 water where they were was too shallow for the shark 
 to approach them. Pale and terrified they stood on 
 the rocks, and gazed toward the sea ; the water that 
 came rippling up toward them so calmly and gently 
 was tinged with blood poor Nelly's blood ! but no 
 further trace of her appeared, and shuddering with 
 horror, they all hastily began to dress. 
 
 "How shall we tell Pomio," said Madame de 
 Tremonille; "poor fellow, he will be so shocked!"
 
 168 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 "Has he a mother living?" said Mary Gis- 
 borne. 
 
 " No ; Pomio's wife was cook in our house, and 
 she died about three years ago ; and the poor man 
 seemed so fond of this little one." 
 
 " Dear me ! to think that this should have been 
 the end of our excursion, from which we promised 
 ourselves so much pleasure," said Caroline, sighing. 
 " How horrible ! poor little thing ! I feel as if I 
 should never forget that scream !" 
 
 "It is indeed, dreadful," said Madame de Tre- 
 monille, "but there is really no danger in bathing 
 here, for any one who does not venture out to sea ; 
 and I believe, indeed, that it is a rare thing for a 
 shark to approach so near shore, as that monster 
 did to-day." 
 
 Jeannette had rushed forward to the rocks, when 
 she heard the scream, and Madame de Tremonille 
 now placed Blanche on one of the ponies, which 
 had been tied outside; and bidding her lead it by 
 the bridle, she herself mounted the other, at the 
 urgent request of the rest of the party, and the 
 whole cavalcade set sorrowfully forward. It seemed, 
 too, as if the appearance of the morning had changed 
 with their feelings : dark, gloomy clouds hung 
 about the horizon, and though the sun had some 
 time since risen, his rays were scarcely visible. 
 A. low rumbling sound, as of distant thunder, was
 
 THE EARTHQUAKE. 169 
 
 heard, and there seemed a kind of stifling stillness 
 in- the air. 
 
 " I think we had better make haste home," said 
 Beatrice; "look, Isabelle, how dark the clouds 'are, 
 It feels to me very like a storm " 
 
 " Yes, indeed," said Madame de Tremonille, "we 
 must not delay at all, these tropical showers come 
 on so suddenly." 
 
 The three girls quickened their pace, but none 
 of them seemed inclined for much conversation. A 
 little while before they reached their destination, 
 when within two hundred yards of Palm Hill, they 
 all became aware of a most unpleasant sensation. 
 They were moving thoughtfully along, when all 
 simultaneously experienced a feeling akin to sea-sick- 
 ness, and looking at each other, and the surrounding 
 objects, they saw the trees bowing, as it were, 
 toward them, and a neighboring cottage shaking. 
 The ponies stopped, snorted, and trembled violently 
 in every joint. 
 
 " Do not be alarmed," said Madame de Tremon- 
 ille, "it is only a slight shock of an earthquake 
 the principal force of which, has doubtless spent 
 itself in some neighboring island. But Beatrice, 
 dear, what is the matter ? why how pale you 
 look!" 
 
 " Oh ! I only feel a little dizzy and faint," was the 
 reply ; but before Mary and Caroline, who were
 
 170 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 behind, could catch her, Beatrice sank fainting on 
 the ground. 
 
 " Jeannette," said Madame de Tremonille, calmly, 
 " run into that cottage and get some water as quickly 
 as you can ; see, there is the woman herself, at the 
 fence, frightened out of her house, I suppose, poor 
 creature. Beatrice will be better directly, Mary ; 
 it is a common thing for persons to feel in this way, 
 after the uncomfortable sensation of an earthquake ; I 
 remember once, when I was in the town, seeing sev- 
 eral persons faint in the streets, on a similar occasion." 
 
 " Dear me ! this does seem a morning of dis- 
 asters !" said Caroline. 
 
 Beatrice soon revived, but she appeared weak, 
 and was glad to accept a seat on the pony's back, 
 and lie down, as soon as they reached the house. 
 
 Poor Pomio was greatly affected at the loss of 
 Nelly, and vowed vengeance against the shark ; and 
 for several days after, the poor man might be seen 
 sitting on the rocks for hours together, with an old 
 double-barreled gun, watching an opportunity of 
 putting a bullet in the monster but it never seemed 
 to venture near enough to the shore again for him 
 to get a sight of it. 
 
 It was two or three days before the party at Palm 
 Hill could recover their usual serenity, or help think- 
 ing of poor little Nelly's fate. The usual routine 
 of quiet occupation was followed, and nothing par-
 
 THE EXPECTED LETTEB. 171 
 
 ticular occurred for several days. Little Blanche's 
 garden had been inclosed by a neat paling, under 
 the joint efforts of herself and Mr. Campbell, and 
 Beatrice had taken several pleasant rambles with 
 Madame de Tremonille. In these walks, Walter 
 Grey often furnished the topic of conversation. Bea- 
 trice longed, she scarcely could say how anxiously, 
 for an answer to her letter, and it was now fast ap- 
 proaching the time when she might expect to hear. 
 Often, when a ship appeared on the horizon, would 
 she gaze anxiously through a telescope, to see if the 
 " stars and stripes" floated from her mast-head. It 
 is anxious work waiting, and she found it so. Not 
 that she was unhappy at Palm Hill. She loved 
 Madame de Tremonille and Blanche too tenderly 
 for that, and they did all in their power to make her 
 happy ; but her heart's warmest affections turned 
 naturally toward the husband of her choice. 
 
 Meanwhile, she occupied herself as much as pos- 
 sible, and that made the time seem to pass more 
 quickly, and she had many sources of interest 
 around her. She amused herself with increasing 
 her collection of curiosities, and with watching the 
 habits and manners of the natives, which interested 
 her from their novelty. It was droll to see strings 
 of the negroes descending the hills to the market- 
 town, driving before them ponies and mules laden 
 with large panniers full of fruit and vegetables, 
 15
 
 172 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 while they themselves followed on foot, carrying 
 enormous loads of produce, of every kind, on their 
 heads. The women wore short cotton gowns, which 
 they made still shorter by tying a handkerchief 
 round them a little below the waist, and hitching 
 them up a fashion which certainly added no ele- 
 gance to their appearance while their sturdy black 
 legs and feet were bare, though there were generally 
 shoes in their bundle, to be put on when they 
 reached the town. Ofteii some of them would turn 
 aside, with fruit and vegetables, and bring them up 
 to Palm Hill for sale. But beside these market- 
 people, a black woman of the name of Simpson used 
 to come to Madame de Tremonille's almost every 
 day, with baskets of produce of all kinds. The 
 fruits of the country seemed very strange, at first, to 
 Beatrice, and, with the exception of the orange, she 
 thought them greatly inferior to those of home. 
 There were abicado-pears, melons, pine-apples, gna- 
 vas, mammy-apples, and many others. Mrs. Simp- 
 son was quite a character, and it was amusing to 
 see the leisurely way in which she would spread 
 out her goods on the veranda, and sit and chat 
 about the merits of each. She was very black and 
 very plain, with six or seven very black and very 
 plain little daughters one or two of whom generally 
 accompanied her. These children rejoiced in the 
 finest names possible there were Victoria, Georgi-
 
 MKS. SIMPSON. 173 
 
 ana, and "Wilhelmina, and a host of others. Mrs. 
 Simpson seemed to think herself a person of great 
 importance, and one day, after she had finished her 
 sale, and was passing along outside the house, Bea- 
 trice and Madame de Tremonille were much amused 
 by hearing the following conversation. A carpenter, 
 who was making some repairs outside, called out to 
 her: "I say, good woman, how do you sell your 
 oranges ?" 
 
 " Woman, indeed ! Woman! woman!" was the 
 reply, in tones of increasing anger. " Hi ! me know 
 me not man, sah ! but me lady, sah 1 Dat buckra 
 man no gentleman for true !" 
 - Madame de Tremonille told Beatrice that some 
 of these women bring up their daughters in a very 
 idle, bad way, particularly if they should be at all 
 light-colored, not allowing them to perform any 
 kind of menial office, but doing all the drudgery 
 themselves. She said, that a little while before, a 
 friend of hers in town had sent for a rather pretty 
 mulatto girl, who was a dressmaker, and after tak- 
 ing her pattern and receiving the dress to take 
 home, the young lady said " she would desire her 
 mother to call for the parcel in the evening, as she 
 could not think of carrying it through the streets 
 herself!"
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 " I love him I trust in him, 
 
 He trasteth me alway ; 
 And so the time flies hopefully, 
 Although he 's far away." BABBY CORNWALL. 
 
 " Let me not, to the marriage of true minds, 
 Admit impediment ." SHAESPEABE. 
 
 LATE one afternoon, Madame de Tremonille dis- 
 patched Pomio on horseback to the town, to pro- 
 cure several articles required in the house, and told 
 him to be sure and call at the post-office, to see if 
 there was a letter for Beatrice an American ship 
 having been seen to enter the harbor that morning. 
 Beatrice awaited Pomio's return with the greatest 
 anxiety ; and when it became time to expect him, 
 she could sit still no longer, but stationed herself 
 in the porch, and stood looking down the avenue 
 in a state of nervous suspense. In a short time, 
 (though it seemed long to her,) he was seen trotting 
 up the hill, and Beatrice caught up her sun-bonnet, 
 and ran out to meet him. 
 
 " Any letter for me, Pomio ?" inquired she, breath- 
 lessly. 
 
 ( 174 )
 
 THE LETTER. 175 
 
 "Yes, Missy, a big letter from 'Meriky." And 
 Pomio pulled forth the long-looked for treasure from 
 the bottom of his basket, carefully wrapped up in 
 paper, and handed it to Beatrice. 
 
 " Thank God ! it is from Walter," she exclaimed ; 
 and tears of joy started to her eyes, and she ran into 
 the house, and on to her own room, that she might 
 read it undisturbed. Her hands trembled as she 
 broke the seal. It ran thus 
 
 " New YorJc, . 
 
 " MY VERY DEAR BEATRICE : 
 
 "I need not tell you. I am sure, with what feel- 
 ings of deep grief we received the tidings of your 
 dear father's death ; and I am sure you will know 
 how much I myself sorrowed on your own account. 
 My dear, dear Beatrice, how desolate you must have 
 felt, being so far from home at such a sad time, 
 and yet, I thank God, that He seems to have raised 
 tip kind friends for you in that distant land, in your 
 hour of trial. How joyful and thankful too, we 
 may both feel at the triumphant and happy end of 
 our dear father for may I not call him mine, too, 
 as he promised us to each other ? Your dear sister 
 Hetty was very much afflicted when I broke to her 
 the sad intelligence. Poor child ! she seemed so 
 bitterly to regret not having been with you. Your 
 aunt, too, seemed to feel it a good deal, and I think
 
 176 GKEATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 the tidings were quite unexpected by both of them ; 
 they said your letters had always been so sanguine. 
 And now, dear Beatrice, we must get you home 
 among us all again, and that as soon as possible. 
 After consulting with my father and mother, I have 
 ventured to decide on the following plan, which will, 
 I hope and trust, meet your wishes. And this is, 
 that I should come and fetch you myself, there being 
 manifestly no one else to undertake the charge, even 
 if I were willing to let them. Now, my dear Beatrice, 
 you will, I hope, understand that I should not wish to 
 press you unkindly, or hurry you at all unpleasantly, 
 so soon after your great loss, but you will perceive 
 that it would not at all do for us to travel together 
 without being man and wife ; and, therefore, I en- 
 treat you to become mine as soon as possible, after 
 my landing at St. Thomas. May I not reckon suf- 
 ficiently on your love to feel sure that you will not 
 refuse me this request ? I know your good sense 
 will see the propriety of the arrangement. 
 
 "I hope (D. v.) to be with you in about a week 
 after you receive this letter. I am obliged to wait a 
 few days to complete necessary arrangements here, 
 and the ship in which I have engaged a berth sails on 
 Monday week. I have just got through college, and 
 taken out my diploma, and I am, therefore, ready to 
 go down to Mill Town and begin practicing my pro- 
 fession, whenever I shall have your own dear self to
 
 THE PKOPOSITION. 177 
 
 accompany me. All here unite in kindest love to 
 yourself and little Blanche. God bless you, my 
 ever dear Beatrice. 
 
 " Yours, with sincere love, 
 
 " WALTER GREY. 
 
 " P. S. I inclose a little note from Hetty, and a 
 short one from mamma, likewise." 
 
 This letter Beatrice read and re-read, while the 
 color burned brightly in her cheek, and her hand 
 shook with emotion. In one week ! one short week ! 
 should she see Walter 1 O ! it was too much joy ! 
 and then, again, she felt it was almost too soon, as 
 the idea of the immediate marriage rose formidably 
 before her mind, and she was inclined to dislike the 
 arrangement altogether. Then, again, came the 
 thought "But I'm sure Walter would not have 
 proposed this plan if it had not been right and 
 necessary and are we not already promised to each 
 other ?" " Dear Walter," she thought, as she again 
 looked at the letter, "how good and kind he is." 
 Tears filled her eyes, and throwing herself on her 
 knees by her bed-side, she poured out her heart in 
 thankfulness to her heavenly Father, and then rose, 
 and taking the letter in her hand, she went to seek 
 Madame de Tremonille. The latter was in the 
 drawing-room reading, when Beatrice entered, and 
 on seeing her, exclaimed
 
 178 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 " Why, Beatrice, dear, I was beginning to get 
 quite anxious as to the contents of your letter. Po- 
 mio told me you had received one, but you have 
 been shut up with it so long my curiosity could 
 hardly stand it. However, I see my fears were 
 groundless," said she, smiling, and looking up into 
 Beatrice's blushing face, which certainly wore no 
 very dolorous expression. 
 
 " Well then, read for yourself, dear Isabelle," said 
 Beatrice, putting the letter into her hands, "and 
 then tell me your opinion, as to its contents" and 
 sitting down on the sofa by her friend's side, and 
 putting her arm round her waist, she hid her face 
 against her shoulder till she had concluded. 
 
 " I am sure your Walter is right, dear Beatrice," 
 said Madame de Tremonille, when she had finished 
 the letter. " I think it is the very best plan that 
 could possibly have been arranged. I need not tell 
 you that, so far as I am concerned, I am delighted 
 with it: the wedding will of course, take place from 
 this house, and it shall be conducted in such a quiet 
 way, as will be consistent both with your circum- 
 stances, and my own My dear friend," she con- 
 tinued, kissing her, ' ; I shall be so glad to see you, a 
 happy wife, I am only sorry to lose you so soon.'' 
 
 " Thank you, thank you, for all your kindness," 
 whispered Beatrice, "you have indeed been a kind 
 friend to me."
 
 WEDDING GARMENTS. 179 
 
 ," O ! don't speak of that, dear Beatrice, but now 
 let us consider what we have to do, during the en- 
 suing week. What shall we have to get ready for 
 you?" 
 
 "O! I shalJ not want much," said Beatrice, "I 
 should not like, you know, to leave off mourning 
 yet ; indeed I think I had better defer getting many 
 new things, till I get to New York. 
 
 " Well you could certainly get them much better 
 there, and it is very inconvenient traveling with a 
 large wardrobe ; but just for the occasion, you might 
 wear a simple white dress don't you think so ?" 
 
 "Yes, thank you," replied Beatrice, "that will 
 be the best plan. But I shall want to draw on our 
 bankers in New York; I suppose I can do this 
 through one of the banks here, can I not ?" 
 
 "O! yes," said Madame de Tremonille, "or I 
 dare say you might procure the money from almost 
 any of our principal merchants, who are in the habit 
 of trading with New York." 
 
 "Well then, dear Isabelle, will you take me into 
 town to-morrow morning, and there we can arrange 
 all these matters together ?" 
 
 " Certainly, but would you wish to have a wed- 
 ding-cake, dear Beatrice ? because, if so, I shall take 
 the charge of that upon myself." 
 
 " Thank you, very much," was the reply, " but 
 my feelings lead me, to wish to have the whole
 
 180 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 affair as quiet as possible without any fuss or cere- 
 mony whatever." 
 
 So it was arranged for the present, all further 
 particulars being left for decision, till "Walter Grey 
 should arrive this was now "Wednesday, and by 
 that day week, he might be with them. Blanche 
 was admitted into the secret, and was very much 
 pleased, as children generally are, when any event 
 of importance is in prospect. Lucy Moore was set 
 hard at work, next day, and Beatrice and Madame 
 de Tremonille sewed and chatted together, enjoying 
 each other's society as much as possible, before they 
 should be called upon to part. 
 
 It was the morning of the following Tuesday. 
 How anxiously had Beatrice looked out, toward 
 where the blue line of ocean formed the boundary 
 of the view from Palm Hill, to see if perchance 
 some sail might not be visible on the horizon. 
 
 She almost blamed herself for listlessness and 
 idleness, and yet, felt as though it were almost im- 
 possible to help getting up from her work, every 
 few minutes, to have a look out. The telescope they 
 had was so good a one, that she was able readily to 
 discern if the vessel were one from her native land, 
 and she felt that she should like, herself, to be the 
 first to see that which might be conveying one so 
 dear to her. 
 
 It was nearly morn. A longer time than usual,
 
 THE STABS AND STRIPES. 181 
 
 had elapsed, since Beatrice had looked out to sea; 
 for she had been busily engaged with Madame de 
 Tremonille, in her room, trying on some article of 
 dress. Now when she again looked, there was in- 
 deed a ship in sight, sailing proudly along with the 
 " stars and stripes," floating from her mast-head, 
 and she had already reached nearly midway, be- 
 tween the line of distance, and the harbor. 
 
 Beatrice rushed along the passage to tell the good 
 news to Madame de Tremonille. 
 
 "I wish you joy, my dear girl," said her friend; 
 " I trust the vessel may indeed have your "Walter on 
 board : at anyrate, I will order the carriage, and we 
 will drive down and ascertain if he is really come." 
 
 " O ! I feel he is ; I know he 's come," said Bea- 
 trice, earnestly. 
 
 "Well then, get ready, and we will go and wel- 
 come him," returned Madame de Tremonille. 
 
 "O! no; indeed I could not," said Beatrice, 
 warmly. " It may seem odd to you, dear Isabelle, 
 but I could not first see him again among a crowd 
 of people at the wharf. I could not indeed I could 
 not welcome him there." 
 
 Madame de Tremonille smiled but she under- 
 stood her friend's feelings, and did not press her 
 going. She knew that Beatrice's heart was too full 
 for her to trust herself to welcome her chosen hus- 
 band amid the impertinent and curious gaze of a 
 12
 
 182 GREATNESS m LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 gaping crowd, and a calm salutation would have 
 been far too cold a reception. 
 
 " Well, then, Blanche can come with me," said 
 Madame de Trenionille ; "she has seen Mr. Grey 
 before, so she can introduce me to him." 
 
 It was not long before the carriage rolled away 
 from the house, leaving Beatrice in a state of great 
 agitation and suspense. She walked uneasily up 
 and down the veranda for some time. Then she 
 filled the vases in the drawing-room with fresh 
 flowers ; and then she got an entertaining book and 
 sat down to read, striving to fix her attention in 
 order to make the time pass quickly: but though she 
 held the book before her eyes, its pages said nothing 
 but "Walter," and we are afraid, she would not have 
 stood any very strict questioning as to its contents. 
 
 Twice, with a little womanly vanity, she went to 
 her own room to arrange her hair and dress, and to 
 steal a glance at her mirror, wondering how Walter 
 would think she was looking. And so the time 
 passed away, till the sound of approaching wheels 
 became audible. She stood at the door just long 
 enough to see if there were a third figure in the dis- 
 tant carriage, and having seen that there was indeed 
 a gentleman sitting beside Madame de Tremonille, 
 she rushed into the drawing-room, and throwing 
 herself on the sofa, she hid her face against the 
 pillow, almost wishing (such is the contrariety of the
 
 THE INTERVIEW. 183 
 
 human heart) that Walter was not so near. She 
 could not go to the door to welcome him. No ; not 
 for the world. Another moment, and voices were 
 heard in the hall his voice, and calling her name. 
 Madame de Tremonille ran down the passage, and 
 just opening the door and seeing Beatrice, she beck- 
 oned to "Walter, and as soon as he entered she 
 slipped quickly away rightly judging that a tete-a- 
 tete would be preferred by both. 
 
 On the blessed joy of that meeting we cannot in- 
 trude ; it can only be understood by those who have 
 been similarly circumstanced. "We can only say 
 that it was prolonged to so late an hour- that Mad- 
 ame de Tremonille at last ventured to send Pomio 
 to summon them to tea. During the evening, Mr. 
 Campbell came in. It had been previously arranged 
 between Madame de Tremonille and himself, that 
 "Walter Grey should stay at the Manse during the 
 time previous to the wedding, and Mr. Campbell 
 now came to welcome and claim his visitor. Walter 
 was exceedingly pleased with the minister's appear- 
 ance, though he at first rebelled a little at being 
 separated from Beatrice, even by so short a distance. 
 Madame de Tremonille, however, playfully but 
 firmly insisted on it, telling him that he might spend 
 as much time during the day at Palm Hill as he 
 chose, but that at night he must take refuge at the 
 Manse.
 
 184: GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS, 
 
 The following day was Tuesday, and that day 
 week was fixed upon for the wedding, which was, of 
 course, to be solemnized in the little Scotch church. 
 During the few days intervening no event of note 
 occurred. We can only say that Beatrice seemed, 
 somehow or other, to find very little time for needle- 
 work, (but perhaps this was "Walter's fault,) and 
 Madame de Tremonille, Jeannette and Lucy Moore 
 were all hard at work for her. Mary and Caroline 
 Gisborne came up on a voyage of inquiry, or rather 
 curiosity to see "Walter, their ostensible object being 
 to visit Beatrice. Beatrice told them that if they 
 would like to come to the church on the wedding- 
 morning, she should be very happy to see them, but 
 that she was going to have no bridesmaids or fuss 
 of any kind whatsoever, as it was so soon after her 
 father's death. 
 
 " Well, I think that is a very unsatisfactory wed- 
 ding," said Caroline ; " I shouldn't think I was 
 half married without bridesmaids, and cake, and a 
 breakfast, and all that. Why couldn't you have 
 waited a bit, Beatrice, and then done the thing 
 properly ? I am sure Mr. Grey seems very comfort- 
 able at the Manse, and you will both be running 
 away from us when you are married, and it will be 
 such a pity to lose you so soon." 
 
 " Well, you see, Caroline," said Beatrice, smiling, 
 " Mr. Grey wants to be back in America before
 
 THE BEST FRIENDS PART. 185 
 
 long, that he may begin to practice his profession ; 
 and I have a little sister too, in New York, who is, 
 I know, very anxious to see me." 
 
 " Why, you are never going to spend the first 
 three weeks of your honeymoon on board ship !" 
 said Caroline ; " how horrible ! I always suffer so 
 from sea-sickness. I cannot imagine anything more 
 unromantic !" 
 
 " Well," said Beatrice, " but I do not suffer so 
 very much at sea, so it will not be so bad for me." 
 
 " Just fancy, then, next Tuesday being the last 
 time we shall see you ; I think you have been very 
 shabby not to give us a week more," said Mary. 
 
 "Well, so it is," said Beatrice, smiling; "the 
 best friends must part, you know, Mary. But I 
 dare say I shall often hear of you from Madame de 
 Tremonille." 
 
 " I know your being here has been a great plea- 
 sure to us," returned Mary ; " we are so miserably 
 off for good society, particularly that of girls of our 
 own age." 
 
 " I wish I could think," said Beatrice, gently, 
 "that our intercourse had really been of any mutual 
 benefit to each other. Perhaps we have not made 
 it so profitable as we might have done I feel as if 
 it were so, on my part/'' 
 
 " Well, I don't know," said Caroline, " I was 
 thinking, the other day, that I have thought more
 
 186 GKEATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 of t\v,j or three little things that you have said on 
 serious subjects, just in the course of common con- 
 versation, than I often have after hearing a sermon. 
 I do not know how it is, I feel as if I liked what was 
 good, and liked to talk about it, and yet, somehow 
 it seems to slip out of my mind so very, very often. 
 Sometimes I hear a thing that strikes me very forci- 
 bly, and makes me think seriously for some time 
 after, but the impression seems soon to wear off. I 
 cannot tell how it is." 
 
 " Dear Caroline," said Beatrice, earnestly " it is 
 because you allow your mind to be so much occu- 
 pied with trifles that the things of eternity have but 
 a secondary place. Is not this, dear Caroline, like 
 what our Saviour said about the seed falling among 
 the thorns ? Do strive and make His service your 
 first and chief end of life, and live as near to Him as 
 possible, and then you will find that you have far 
 more than impressions ; religion would then be a 
 reality." 
 
 " I will try, dear Beatrice," said Caroline, grave- 
 ly "but I fear I am very unstable." 
 
 " It is from want of prayer and want of real earn- 
 estness, I think," replied Beatrice ; " suppose now, 
 Caroline, you had a piece of needlework to do, the 
 finishing of which quickly was of the greatest import- 
 ance, do you think any one would believe you were 
 earnestly trying to accomplish your task, if you kept
 
 FRIENDSHIP CEMENTED. 187 
 
 laving it aside for every trifling thing which attract- 
 ed your attention ?" 
 
 "No! indeed," said Caroline, musingly "I think 
 I quite understand what you mean. I have been 
 very foolish." 
 
 " Caroline," said Mary, who had hitherto sat 
 silently listening to the conversation ; " I think you 
 and I might be greater helps to each other than we 
 are. I believe we both of us wish to do right and 
 to live more like Christians, but I think our stupid 
 little disputes and frequent petty quarrels often place 
 stumbling-blocks in each other's way. It is a pity 
 that sisters, thrown together so much as they must 
 be, should not be more gentle and kind, more 
 helpful and companionable to each other than they 
 often are." 
 
 "Well! dear Mary, let us try," said Caroline, 
 kissing her. 
 
 Just then Walter entered the room and the girls 
 shortly after took their leave, saying that they 
 hoped to see Beatrice once more before her marriage 
 day. 
 
 The Monday following was a busy day for Bea- 
 trice ; she had a good deal of packing to do, and 
 several friends to say good-by to. Walter came up 
 irom the Manse several times, but complained that 
 he could hardly get a sight of her. It was six o'clock 
 ;u the evening, when all arrangements being com- 
 16
 
 188 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 pleted, Beatrice and Madame de Tremonille, accom- 
 panied by "Walter and Blanche, went to say farewell 
 to widow Moore at her little cottage. Beatrice took 
 her a nice copy of the Pilgrim's Progress, in large 
 type, for a parting gift, and also two neat lilac print 
 gowns for herself and Lucy. The presents were 
 received with many expressions of gratitude and 
 delight, and the good widow poured forth blessings 
 on the head of Walter and Beatrice, begging them 
 to let her come to church in the morning to see them 
 married. 
 
 The permission was readily granted, and the party 
 returned home, sauntering slowly along the road, 
 as if willing to enjoy as much as possible their last 
 evening amid the beautiful scenery around Palm 
 Hill. Madame de Tremonille looked rather sad, 
 though she tried to keep up her spirits. She felt 
 much at the idea of parting with Beatrice, who had 
 become as dear to her as a sister, and the thought 
 of her widowed home seemed to press on her mind 
 this evening more than usual. When they reached 
 the house, they all sat down in the veranda for one 
 last chat, and it was quite dark before they moved 
 into the drawing-room to tea and Walter, shortly 
 after, took his leave. Madame de Tremonille and 
 Beatrice prolonged the conversation to a late hour ; 
 there seemed so many last words co say ; and 
 Blanche, too, could not be prevailed upon to go to
 
 REFLECTIONS ON MARRIAGE. 189 
 
 bed for a long time, she was so busy packing a little 
 box of presents for Hetty, which she had been col- 
 lecting ever since she came home from America. 
 
 At last the house was still, and Beatrice's was the 
 only eye that remained unclosed. She stood leaning 
 out of her window lost in thought. How many 
 anxious feelings fill a young girl's mind on such an 
 occasion ; thoughts of the untried sphere that lies 
 before them ; thoughts vague and undefined of un- 
 known trials and responsibilities yet to come, 
 mingled with trustful feelings of love and hope. 
 And yet, when there is true love to God in the heart, 
 and a sure trust in the chosen one, how all these 
 tumultuous feelings and anxieties resolve themselves 
 into calm trust and confidence. One feels that 
 another self is about to claim our best energies, and 
 our dearest hearts' affections, and it is no slavery, 
 indeed, to give these,but a daily work of love. 
 
 " Love took up the glass of Time, and turn'd it in his glowing hands, 
 Every moment, lightly shaken, ran itself in golden sands, 
 Love took up the Harp of Life and swept upon its chords with 
 
 might, 
 Srnote the chord of Self, that trembling, passed in music out of 
 
 sight." ALFBED TENNYSOH.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Sail forth into the sea of life, 
 O gentle, loving, trusting wife ; 
 And safe from all adversity, 
 Upon the bosom of that sea, 
 Thy comings and thy goings be." LONGFELLOW. 
 
 " Sweet is the smile of home the mutual look, 
 
 When hearts are of each other sure ; 
 Sweet all the joys that crowd the household nook 
 The haunt of all affections pure." KEBLE. 
 
 THE following morning rose bright and beautiful 
 serene in tropical loveliness. Beatrice was scarcely 
 awake when little Blanche came tripping lightly 
 into her room, and jumped up on the bed, throwing 
 her arms around her neck, and kissing her warmly, 
 again and again. " Look, dear Beatrice," she ex- 
 claimed, holding up some exquisite flowers, "is not 
 this a lovely nosegay? do just smell it! I got up 
 as soon as it was light to gather it for you, and I 
 arranged it myself, only Jeannette tied the string 
 round, and made the holder. It is for you when 
 you go to church: do carry it in your hand to 
 
 please me." 
 (190)
 
 THE EVE OF MAKKIAGE. 191 
 
 "Indeed I will, darling child, with great plea- 
 sure," said Beatrice; " but what time is it, Blanche?" 
 
 "Why, it is half past six, said Blanche, "and 
 Mamma is up." 
 
 "And we are to be at the church by eight? O ! 
 Blanche, I must get up directly and dress," said 
 Beatrice. 
 
 " I will run and tell Mamma you are awake I 
 know she wants to come and see you." 
 
 Beatrice knelt down as soon as she had risen, lest 
 she might not get another quiet time for prayer, and 
 while she was still on her knees, Madame de Tre- 
 monille softly entered the room. "When she had 
 finished, they embraced each other without speak- 
 ing both their hearts were full. 
 
 " My beloved Beatrice," whispered Madame de 
 Tremonille, " God bless you ! I feel as if I could 
 hardly let you go from me so soon ; and yet it were 
 selfish, I know, to wish to detain you your "Walter 
 has the best claim now. Only promise me, dear, 
 that you will not forget me. Let us keep up a real 
 correspondence with each other, and by that I mean, 
 let us tell each other our real thoughts and feelings." 
 
 " It will be a very, very great pleasure to me to do 
 so, dear Isabelle," said Beatrice ; " and yon know we 
 have that blessed hope, the Christian's hope of meet- 
 ing again in that land where 'parting shall be no 
 more.' Dear little Blanche will be a great comfort
 
 192 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 to you I feel she will. Dear child, she seems to 
 grow more sweet and loving every day." 
 
 " 'God tempers the wind to the shorn lamb,' " dear 
 Beatrice, said her friend, sighing as she spoke ; "but 
 oh ! I cannot tell you what I have felt this morning. 
 I passed through the spare-room, a little while ago, 
 and there was your white dress lying on the bed 
 with your wedding-bonnet, all reminding me, oh ! 
 so forcibly, of how it was with me some few happy 
 years ago. Oh ! how handsome and how proud of me 
 my own Eugene was then ! and he was so young, so 
 noble, and so full of life and vigor, and I fondly 
 looked forward to a long life together ; and now 
 oh! my dear lost love!" and Madame de Tremon- 
 ille leant her head upon the bed and burst into 
 tears. 
 
 " Dear Isabelle," said Beatrice, gently, after a few 
 minutes' pause, "do not distress yourself thus. 
 You will make me so unhappy if you do. I shall 
 think I have been the cause of it. Indeed, in- 
 deed, my heart feels for you, and never more than 
 now; but have you not already trusted him with 
 your Saviour ?" 
 
 " Oh ! I have, I have," said Madame de Tremon- 
 ille, raising her head ; " it was only a moment's 
 weakness. But come, dear Beatrice, let me dress 
 you now ; we will set off early and walk slowly 
 down to the church together. I hear Blanche calling
 
 THE MARRIAGE. 193 
 
 Jeannette to come and fasten her dress. She is 
 going to wear one of her white dresses, with a light 
 blue sash, and a little straw hat. I thought this 
 would do nicely for her." 
 
 Even to the eye of a stranger Beatrice would have 
 looked lovely, as she stood in her simple bridal robe 
 of white muslin, on her wedding morn. And in the 
 eyes of those who loved her, we need not say how 
 much this loveliness was enhanced. 
 
 "Walter and Mr. Campbell were waiting in the 
 church when Beatrice entered, leaning on Madame 
 de Tremonille's arm, followed by little Blanche, 
 while a dusky group of servants appeared in the 
 distance. A solemn and touching address was 
 made to the young couple by the minister, and the 
 simple service was soon concluded. When all was 
 over, Beatrice looked up and saw Mary and Caroline 
 Gisborne standing in a pew near the pulpit, and as 
 the wedding-party stood conversing for a few mo- 
 ments in the aisle, before leaving the church, the 
 two girls came up and joined them. Beatrice was 
 leaning on Walter's arm, and the tears stood in her 
 eyes as they kissed her and offered the accustomed 
 good wishes. 
 
 " I think you had all better come up to Palm 
 Hill and breakfast with us," said Madame de Tre- 
 monille. "Do come, Mr. Campbell our friends 
 will not leave us for an hour or two yet."
 
 194 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 " How soon do you expect to sail, Mrs. Grey ?" 
 asked Mr. Campbell. 
 
 Beatrice started and colored ; it seemed so strange 
 to hear herself called by her new name. Walter. 
 relieved her from answering, saying that they had 
 engaged a passage to New York on board the brig, 
 " Gipsy Queen," and that they expected her to sail 
 in a few days. 
 
 The party now all moved slowly up the hill to the 
 house, and while breakfast was getting ready, Beatrice 
 went to change her dress for one suitable for traveling. 
 On entering her room, she found, lying on her table, 
 a most elegant dressing-case, with a slip of paper 
 lying on it, on which was written "For my dear 
 friend, Beatrice Grey, from Isabelle de Tremonille." 
 
 She opened it it was completely and perfectly 
 fitted up with every requisite for the toilet ; all the 
 tops of the bottles, etc., being of richly worked silver 
 and the lining of dark-green velvet. Caroline and 
 Mary had followed her to her room, and they were 
 rapturous in their expressions of admiration. Bea- 
 trice turned toward the door ; there stood Madame de 
 Tremonille and Blanche. Throwing her arms round 
 her friend's neck, Beatrice thanked her in warm, but 
 whispered words. Advancing timidly, Blanche took 
 Beatrice's hand, and holding out a small parcel, she 
 said " Will you keep this for my sake, dear Bea- 
 trice 2" It was a very pretty silver fruit-knife.
 
 FARTING PRESENTS. 195 
 
 Beatrice kissed her, afcd told her she admired it 
 very much, and that she should like it much more 
 on account of the giver. Caroline and Mary had 
 each brought her a book Caroline's was Krum- 
 maeher's " Elijah the Tishbite," and Mary's was 
 ''Tennyson's Poems." 
 
 The time for parting seemed to come too quickly 
 for all parties, and Beatrice felt as though she were 
 leaving old friends, when Madame de Tremonille's 
 carriage bore herself and Walter away from Palm 
 Hill. 
 
 The remembrance of all that she passed through 
 there, shot through her mind as they drove along 
 the road, and she thought of her dear father's quiet 
 grave in the little Scotch church-yard. She and 
 Walter had paid a last visit to the spot, the evening 
 before, and it now seemed as though it were some- 
 thing inexpressibly precious that they were now 
 leaving behind, and bitter tears coursed down her 
 cheeks as she thought of it. Walter looked at her, 
 and seemed to read her thoughts, for he only pressed 
 her hand in respectful silence, and said nothing. 
 
 They drove on past the town, up a very pretty 
 road till they came to a delightful, countrified-look- 
 ing little white cottage, with a neat garden all round 
 it, and a porch trimmed with luxuriant creepers. At 
 the little garden gate of this pretty place, Cato drew 
 up his horses, seeming quite aware where he was to
 
 196 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 stop. Beatrice looked at Walter in surprise 
 u Why ! Walter, where are we ?" exclaimed she. 
 
 "It is all right!" said Walter, smiling, as ho 
 helped his wife to alight, and led her up the little 
 gravel walk to the door " I meant to surprise you, 
 dear Beatrice, by bringing you to this pleasant little 
 retreat, instead of a dirty, noisy hotel. It was 
 through Mr. Campbell's kindness that I procured 
 it ; it belongs to a brother clergyman of his, who is 
 gone on some business to the other side of the 
 island, and he has kindly placed this house at our 
 disposal till the ship sails." 
 
 On entering the door, they were kindly welcomed 
 by the minister's old housekeeper, who had every- 
 thing in perfect order for their reception, and dur- 
 ing the few days they were at the cottage, she at- 
 tended to all their wants with scrupulous care and 
 kindness, serving up the most delightfully-cooked 
 repasts on snowy-white tablecloths, in a pretty 
 china-service of gold and white. Vases full of fresh 
 flowers were placed in all parts of the house, and 
 yet, while their comfort was studied, they were left 
 in perfect liberty. 
 
 Thus the time passed away, till the " Gipsy 
 Queen " was ready for sailing. They had proceeded 
 on their voyage about a week, when one afternoon, 
 as Walter and Beatrice were sitting together on 
 deck, enjoying the fresh breeze and gazing on the
 
 STRANGE OBJECT. 197 
 
 vast blue expanse of water, which lay rolling and 
 heaving around the vessel, the former suddenly 
 exclaimed 
 
 " O ! look, Bee, do you not see three dark forms, 
 like human figures, walking on the water, yonder 
 in the far distance? I wonder what they can be !" 
 
 Beatrice turned her eyes in the direction pointed 
 out by her husband, and there, indeed, rose against 
 the horizon, three dark, straight forms, seemingly 
 attached to no foundation. 
 
 " Do go and ask the captain what he thinks they 
 are, love!" said Beatrice, " he can look through his 
 telescope." 
 
 "Walter walked across the deck to where the cap- 
 tain was standing talking with the mate of the 
 vessel. He had the telescope in his hand, and they 
 were both apparently engaged in examining that 
 which had attracted his own attention. 
 
 " I 'm thinking that that 'ere must be a water- 
 logged vessel, sir," said the captain to Walter, as ho 
 came up ; " there have been some very smart gales 
 in these parts lately, and I guess she 's some mer- 
 chant brig as has sprung a leak in the storm, may-be. 
 If so, God help the crew, for we 're a precious lon^ 
 way from land for them to make it in an open boat. 
 At anyrate," said he, turning to the mate; "let's 
 alter our course a little, Mr. Jones, and make toward 
 
 her, mayhap we shall find out where she 's from." 
 13
 
 198 GREATXKSS ix LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 Walter went back to communicate the news to 
 his wife, and together they sat and watched the dis- 
 tant object, which they were now rapidly approach- 
 ing, as the captain was anxious to reach it before 
 dark, and had accordingly ordered all sails to be 
 set. 
 
 When they had approached sufficiently near, they 
 perceived that it was, indeed, the remains of some 
 shipwrecked and completely water-logged vessel. 
 Only the three spars were visible above the surface 
 of the water, but from the tallest of these floated 
 something like a handkerchief, apparently fastened 
 there by the crew, either before they had met their 
 death by drowning, or before they had taken to 
 the boats to endeavor to make for some distant 
 shore. 
 
 At about one hundred yards' distance from the 
 wreck, the captain of the " Gipsy Queen," ordered 
 that her sails should be furled, and that some of the 
 hands should immediately man a boat, and proceed 
 toward the ill-fated vessel, to endeavor, if possible 
 to discover some tidings of the missing crew. 
 
 When the men returned, they brought with them 
 a piece of stiff paper, evidently the cover of an old 
 book, which they said, they found nailed to the 
 mast, beneath a floating handkerchief. 
 
 In this was written, in blotted and almost illegible 
 characters:
 
 THE WKECK. 199 
 
 " This is the wreck of the " Mary Jane," brig, 
 from Baltimore sprung a leak in the gale. Crew 
 taken to boat, .and steered in a north-westerly direc- 
 tion. Will any captain of a vessel, finding this, 
 keep a look-out for them !" 
 
 The paper bore date five days before. 
 
 "Why, what has Jim Greenwood got there?" 
 asked the captain, as the last of the sailors stepped 
 on board, having something lying on his arm. 
 
 "Why it's a cat, sir," said the man" there she 
 was, just inside the round-house, on a shelf, and 
 when she heard the splash of the boat's oars, she 
 began mewing and scratching away so I thought I 
 wouldn't leave the poor creetur to perish and her 
 being the last to abide by the ship too when all 
 the rest had forsaken it." 
 
 "I expect, Jim," said the captain, laughing, " that 
 the cat's stay, was more one of compulsion than 
 choice " 
 
 " Well, sir, I can't tell, but I '11 keep her, with 
 your leave somehow, I fancy she wouldn't desert 
 the ship" 
 
 " Well, perhaps," said the captain, "as the vessel 
 is water-logged, and in no danger of sinking below 
 her spars, the crew would have done better, to abide 
 by her too at anyrate, Jim, keep the cat there 
 are plenty of rats and mice in the hold, so she '11 be 
 useful, I reckon."
 
 200 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 Great was now the excitement felt by all on 
 board, as to whether there was any chance of 
 overtaking the sufferers. It, was evident, that for 
 two days, at least, the ship might continue her 
 course, at the usual rate of sailing, without expect- 
 ing to meet them. After that time, the good-natured 
 captain determined on lying-to, every night, and 
 hanging out red -lights from the " Gipsy Queen," 
 lest he should pass by them, in the dark ; at the 
 same time, occasionally altering his course during 
 the day, in the hope of seeing them. 
 
 It was the evening of the fourth day, after the 
 wreck had been discovered, that a dark object ap- 
 peared, like a speck in the distance ; which proved, 
 on a nearer approach, to be indeed a boat, with 
 several persons on board. 
 
 How often, during the past three days, had Bea- 
 trice come up on deck, and looked anxiously out 
 for the poor ship- wrecked sailors ! and now that 
 there was really a bpat in sight, she and "Walter 
 participated fully, in the excitement of their crew, 
 as to the condition of its inmates. 
 
 It was dusk, before the boat and the ship met, 
 for though the people in the former, had perceived 
 the " Gipsy Queen," and rowed toward her, she 
 evidently contained but few efficient hands, and her 
 progress was very slow.
 
 THE SHIPWBECKED PARTY. 201 
 
 As they came alongside, Beatrice and her hus- 
 band leant over, the ship's side, and watched with 
 mingled emotions of pleasure and pain, the emaci- 
 ated, and yet thankful countenances of the sufferers, 
 as they were assisted on board. 
 
 The party consisted of seven men, a woman, and 
 an infant of some six or eight months old. The 
 woman lay in a recumbent posture, with her head 
 against the gunwale of the boat, apparently insen- 
 sible to all that was going on around her. One 
 of the sailors held the infant in his rough arms, 
 and endeavored to hush its plaintive wailings. 
 
 When the party were all on board, and the poor 
 woman had been carried down, and laid in a berth, 
 the men explained, that she was the wife of the 
 captain of the "Mary Jane;" that her husband, 
 had been unfortunately drowned on the day of the 
 wreck ; and that the poor creature from grief, from 
 want of proper food, and from exposure to the heat 
 of the sun in an open boat, had become alarmingly 
 ill, with alternate fits of delirium and exhaustion, 
 from which even the presence of her babe could 
 not arouse her. Beatrice took the infant from the 
 sailor and endeavored to hush it to rest; and in- 
 deed, the poor child and its sick mother, now 
 claimed her whole care and attention. 
 
 The baby was a delicate, weak)y-looking boy, 
 who lay in her arms moaning, and every now and
 
 202 GKEATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 then opening its little feverish lips and looking up 
 into her face, as if imploring pity. 
 
 Beatrice felt so glad that Walter was able to 
 afford medical assistance to the poor mother, whom 
 he did not consider in any immediate danger, 
 although fever and suffering had rendered her, as 
 yet, totally oblivious to all that was going on around 
 her. 
 
 Three, four, five weary days did Beatrice spend 
 in the sick woman's cabin, ministering to the wants 
 of the poor creature, thus so friendless and alone. 
 There was no other female on board, and she could 
 not leave her uncared for. 
 
 The poor infant, too, was a great trial and charge, 
 for it seemed to pine away hourly ; and long before 
 the mother had recovered her reason, Walter had 
 despaired of its life. Occasionally Beatrice would 
 go up on deck with her little charge, to see if per- 
 chance the fresh sea-breeze might not fan the lamp 
 of life that was now flickering so faintly but all 
 seemed of no aavil. The little eyes waxed dimmer 
 and dimmer ; the pulastions of the tiny heart fainter 
 and fainter. Beatrice, indeed, felt it a trial if the 
 poor mother could only have returned to conscious- 
 ness once more ere her babe's death ! But it was 
 not to be so ; and Beatrice could only look to her 
 heavenly Father for help, and trust Him with the 
 result. The sight of the poor woman's sullerings
 
 MKS. HARVEY. 203 
 
 drew forth her warmest sympathy, and the feeling 
 of how much she loved her Walter, deepened her 
 pity for poor Mrs. Harvey under her deep loss. It 
 grieved her heart to see the poor babe suffering so 
 much, and yet to know that all human aid was of 
 no avail ; and yet, after five days and nights passed 
 with the infant almost continually in her arms, she 
 felt a sorrow as though she had lost something that 
 had entwined itself about her heart's affections, 
 when the freed spirit left its frail little tenement and 
 returned to the God who gave it. And when the 
 tiny body was committed to the deep that evening, 
 there was scarcely a dry eye on board, even among 
 the rough sailors. 
 
 It was sad work too, to break to the poor mother 
 the intelligence of her second deep loss, on her resto- 
 ration to consciousness ; and for some time indeed, 
 again her reason seemed to totter on its throne. But 
 Beatrice's tender, sympathetic manner and unwearied 
 kindness and attention, did much to restore the poor 
 woman to tranquillity. 
 
 Thus the time passed on till they reached New 
 York. How many and varied were Beatrice's feel- 
 ings on again beholding her native city. Joy filled 
 her heart at the thought of seeing her sister and 
 other dear friends ; but her father, and the home of 
 her childhood, where were they ?
 
 204 GREATNESS IN^ LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 The first care of Walter and Beatrice on the ves- 
 sel, was to provide for the safety and comfort of poor 
 Mrs. Harvey. She said she had a widowed sister to 
 whose house she could go, but that she lived at the 
 farther end of the city. It did not require many 
 moments for the Greys to decide that they would 
 first see the poor widow safe home before they should 
 seek their own friends for was she not friendless 
 and alone, and cast, as it were, on their protecting 
 kindness 3 
 
 They found the sister a gentle, affectionate, warm- 
 hearted woman, who received Mrs. Harvey with 
 tears of mingled joy and sympathy but she had 
 five young children depending upon her for support, 
 and although poor Mrs. Harvey might probably, in 
 time, be able to earn something toward their mutual 
 support, yet it was easy to perceive that, with such 
 slender means, any additional burden would be felt. 
 
 Beatrice felt that she had the means of assistance, 
 and could she withhold her hand in a case where 
 the grief and poverty of others seemed so plainly to 
 call for help and protection ? 
 
 With her husband's consent she therefore earn- 
 estly begged poor Mrs. Harvey to accept of a 
 small annuity from her, urging it for the sake 
 of the little one whom she had nursed in his last 
 hours.
 
 THE WKLCOITE. 205 
 
 The poor widow thanked her with tears of joy 
 and gratitude, while Beatrice felt grateful to her 
 heavenly Father for thus having afforded her the 
 means of comforting the heart of the mourner. 
 
 It was with a beating heart that Beatrice took 
 hold of her husband's arm, as he helped her to alight 
 at the door of his father's house. They had not 
 time to ring the bell before they heard an exclama- 
 tion of joy from an open window above, and Hetty 
 rushed down stairs and was in Beatrice's arms in an 
 instant. Old Mr. and Mrs. Grey followed her, and 
 welcomed their son and daughter-in-law with tears 
 of joy and warm words of welcome. Aunt Louisa 
 too came out into the hall, and seemed really glad 
 to see them. O ! how pleasant is the feeling of 
 being welcomed, with gushing affection, by those 
 we love. O ! the blessing of a hearty, thorough, 
 sincere welcome. 
 
 Hetty seemed, perhaps, the most overjoyed of any 
 of the party. She kept fast hold of her sister's 
 hand, while the tears stood full in her dark eyes, 
 and her cheeks burned a rosy red, and she kept 
 every now and then looking up in Beatrice's face, 
 as though to assure herself of the reality of her 
 presence. 
 
 Their joy was in some measure chastened by sor- 
 row, in thinking of him who had gone from them 
 and had returned no more to partake in this glad
 
 206 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 welcoming ; and the mourning dresses of all served 
 as a reminder of their grief, fur both Mr. and Mrs. 
 Grey had wished to show this testimony of respect 
 to the memory of so much esteemed and valued a 
 friend. 
 
 O ! how much there was to tell on both sides 
 how much news to communicate ! 
 
 Beatrice was thought to be looking remarkably 
 well, and very little altered by her residence in the 
 West Indies. 
 
 " We expected to see you come back a sort of 
 mulatto color, dear Beatrice," said Hetty laughing ; 
 " and you look as rosy, at this moment, as if you 
 had never left home." 
 
 Beatrice smiled ; "O! Hetty," she said, "you do 
 not know how many beautiful places I have seen. 
 I have often wished you could have been with me 
 to enjoy them. But I must show you all my West 
 India curiosities and sketches some time when I 
 have time to unpack them ; and there is a little 
 box too, for you, from Blanche." 
 
 " O ! how is dear Blanche ?" said Hetty ; " I was 
 so glad to see you I had not had time to ask after 
 her." 
 
 U O! she is such a sweet child," said Beatrice; 
 " she was always a dear little thing, but she is very 
 much improved lately, and is so gentle in her man- 
 ners, and yet so lively and warm-hearted, that I
 
 THE RECITAL. 207 
 
 was quite grieved to part with her, and to her 
 adopted mother she is a treasure indeed." 
 
 "Madame de Tremonille is one of the most de- 
 lightful, cultivated, and charming women I have 
 ever met," said Walter. " She won my heart by her 
 kindness and love to dear Bee ; she seemed as if she 
 could never do enough for her." 
 
 " "Well, I do not know that that was so very ex- 
 traordinary after all," said old Mr. Grey, smiling, 
 and tapping his daughter-in-law on the shoulder ; 
 " she seems, somehow or other, to have twined her- 
 self round all our hearts ; and as for this little gipsy," 
 said he, catching Hetty by the arm and pulling her 
 toward him, " I have adopted her as my second 
 daughter !" 
 
 " Well, dear Beatrice," said his wife, " I should 
 advise you to come up stairs now, and take off your 
 bonnet and shawl. You will be glad to rest a little 
 while before tea shall you not, my dear ?" 
 
 Beatrice readily consented, and followed Mrs. 
 Grey up-stairs, holding Hetty by the hand. 
 
 There was abundant food for conversation that 
 evening, and time flew rapidly away till nine o'clock 
 struck, and old Socrates came with a lantern from 
 Curzon street to take Mrs. Grant and Hetty home. 
 
 " O ! come in, Socrates," said Beatrice, when she 
 saw his black face, with its venerable-looking white 
 hair, peeping in at the door.
 
 208 GEEATNESS ra LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 u Me berry, berry glad to see you, Missy Betiss,' 
 said the old man, advancing into the room, with his 
 hat in his hand, " you look more sweeter and purtier 
 dan when you left home. I glad to see Massa 
 Walter, your husband he good Christian man; 
 God bless you boff, is my prayer." 
 
 "Thank you, Socrates, I am sure," said Beatrice; 
 " but how have you been since I left home ?" 
 
 " "Well, purty well, Missy, for old man like me ; 
 but since I hear my old massa gone, I feel some- 
 times it time for Socrates to go too. I shall go and 
 seek my massa soon, Missy. I am much older nor 
 he was when de Lord took him, but while I live on 
 dis earth I must lib wid you, Missy Betiss, and 
 serve you." 
 
 " Well, Socrates, we must manage that if we can," 
 said Beatrice ; "bat you might be thinking of leav- 
 ing off work now." 
 
 O ! no, Missy ; I never like to be idle while de 
 Lord gives me strength to work. Please, Missis, 
 are you ready 2" said he, turning to Mrs. Grant. 
 
 Hetty cast a sorrowful look at Beatrice, at the. 
 thought of parting with her; but Beatrice whispered 
 in her ear that she was to live at Mill Town with 
 Walter and herself, and that then she hoped they 
 should see plenty of each other. A gleam of joy 
 shot across Hetty's face, at this glad intelligence, 
 and her cheeks colored with pleasure. Yague fears
 
 THE WILL. 209 
 
 of being left at school in New York, or of continu- 
 ing to live in Curzon street with Aunt Louisa, had 
 often troubled her mind, and Beatrice's words made 
 the poor child go home and lie down on her pillow, 
 that night, with a happy and light heart. 
 
 After Mrs. Grant and Hetty had left, the rest of 
 the party continued for some time engaged in con- 
 versation. There seemed so much to say, that they 
 were unwilling to separate. 
 
 " Beatrice, my dear," said Mr. Grey, " before you 
 left this country, your dear father placed in my 
 hands a copy of his will, which he had had drawn 
 up a short time before. I have not opened it yet, 
 waiting for your return to do so ; if you think 
 proper, I will read it to-morrow morning, when you 
 are all assembled together." 
 
 " Certainly," said Beatrice, " whatever you think 
 best. Dear Papa mentioned something to me, re- 
 specting the manner in which he had disposed of 
 what he possessed. Though this is not much, yet, 
 what we have will be a help to dear Walter, now 
 he is not yet settled." 
 
 " How soon do you think of going down to 
 Mill Town, my dear son?" said old Mrs. Grey. 
 
 "Well, mother, as soon as possible," said 
 Walter; "you see, there is a good opening for me 
 now, and our friends there seem to wish me to 
 come at once, before a rival appears in the field.
 
 flO GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 There is only one old doctor in the place, and he is 
 quite of the old school, and almost superannuated. 
 I shall be ready to go down as soon as ever Bea- 
 trice is " 
 
 " O ! I have nothing to keep me beyond a few 
 flays," said his wife, " I should like to see a few old 
 friends and acquaintances, before we go ; and as 
 Hetty is to come with us, she will want a little time 
 to get ready." 
 
 "O ! no come," said old Mr. Grey, "I intend 
 Hetty to live with us; she has been here every day 
 lately, and I should so miss her bright, merry face; 
 you really must leave her behind you, Beatrice " 
 
 " I made a solemn promise to dear Papa, on his 
 death-bed," said Beatrice, "that I would take her to 
 live with us, and be a mother to her, as far as lay 
 in my power. So please, let her come with us now, 
 that she may get to consider our house as her home, 
 and then, you know, dear Mr. Grey, she can come 
 and visit you as often as you like the distance 
 from here to Mill Town, is not so very great " 
 
 " Well, I see, I must yield the point," said the old 
 gentleman, sighing "but what is your aunt to do?" 
 
 " Dear Papa told me, he had left her enough to 
 support her comfortably," replied Beatrice. 
 
 "I should think, aunt would probably go into 
 one of the boarding-houses of the city. I think 
 such a life would suit her."
 
 COMMENTS ox CHARACTER. 211 
 
 " By-the-by, Beatrice," said Mr. Grey, "your old 
 admirer, Mr. Chichester, is married; he did not 
 seem to take your rejection of him so very much 
 to heart." 
 
 " I don't think Chichester is the kind of man ever 
 to take anything very much to heart," said "Walter ; 
 "his predilections were of a very evanescent nature: 
 he was always fancying himself in love with some 
 one or other, and if matters did not run smoothly, 
 why then, with the utmost nonchalance, he could 
 attach himself to some one else. I don't call that 
 sort of thing true love: it is not worthy of the 
 name " 
 
 " "Whom has he maried ?" said Beatrice. 
 
 " "Why, who of all others, but Alice Vaughan," 
 replied Mrs. Grey. "He has about got his 
 match. She was just the kind of girl to marry for 
 an establishment, for the sake indeed, of being 
 married; and so perhaps she would feel less, than 
 many others, the loss of any particular devotion 
 toward her, on her husband's part. So long as he is 
 outwardly attentive to her, and gives her what 
 dresses and ornaments she wants, 1 don't suppose, 
 she will care for much beside. Perhaps she might 
 not have appreciated true love so it will be the 
 better for her, poor girl 1" 
 
 "It often astonishes me," said "Walter, smiling, 
 
 " how people find each other out, as partners for life : 
 18
 
 212 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 some seem so exactly suited to each other, that 
 they appear to have been cut out and moulded for 
 no one else." 
 
 "Well, that is true," said his mother; "but yet 
 we often see very happy marriages, where the 
 husband and wife differ entirely and essentially, both 
 in character and disposition ; I was going to say, in 
 tastes also, but of course, there must be some har- 
 mony there, for them to be companions for each other 
 at all. But I have often noticed a strongly-marked 
 characteristic on one side, counterbalanced by a defi- 
 ciency in that point on the other that where there 
 is the greatest weakness in the one disposition, the 
 greatest strength will often lie in the other and 
 that thus the two characters seem to dove-tail into, 
 and balance eacn other, and so produce harmony 
 and happiness." 
 
 " If you have all finished this discussion on 
 matrimony," said old Mr. Grey, "I think we had 
 better be thinking of going to bed, for our travelers 
 must be tired." 
 
 Just as the party had all assembled for breakfast, 
 the following morning, Hetty came running into 
 the room, her face beaming with joy and running 
 up to Beatrice quite "sans ceremonie," she kissed 
 her heartily, and then turning to Mrs. Grey, she 
 said:
 
 HETTY. 213 
 
 "Forgive me, dear Mrs. Grey, for coming so early ; 
 I have been awake ever since it was light, longing 
 for the time to come when I might run over." 
 
 "Pray don't apologize, dear child, we are always 
 glad to see you." 
 
 " Aunt Louisa sends her love, and says she will 
 be here after breakfast," said Hetty ; " but she was 
 only just up, when I started, so she will not be here 
 just yet." 
 
 " Come to breakfast, dear children," said Mrs. 
 Grey, who was pouring out the coffee ; " it will all 
 get cold while you are standing there and you can 
 talk and discuss your eggs and toast at the same 
 time." 
 
 ""Well, at least we can look at each other," said 
 Hetty, laughing, and skipping up to the breakfast 
 table. "Now doesn't it look delightful, dear Mrs. 
 Grey, to see those two dear faces here again? it 
 seems almost like a dream to me I have longed 
 to see Beatrice for such a dreadful time." 
 
 " Why you have not been so very, very dull and 
 melancholy, I hope, dear Hetty," said her sister. 
 
 " Why, perhaps not exactly so bad as that," she 
 replied ; " but Aunt Louisa kept me always in such 
 prim propriety, I felt as if I could hardly breathe 
 freely when I was with her she used always to be 
 telling me to sit straight, or to turn out my toes, or 
 
 some fidgety thing or other. If she asked me to 
 14
 
 214 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 read aloud, it was always either too fast or too slow, 
 or too loud or too low. I seemed always to be in a 
 bother as to whether I was doing right or not, and 
 that made me ten times worse. She is so old- 
 maidish and fudgy, one can 't fancy she was ever 
 married." 
 
 "Come, come, Hetty," said Beatrice, gravely, 
 " you must not speak so harshly of Aunt Louisa ; 
 it is not right. She meant kindness toward you, 
 when correcting you, only perhaps her manner of 
 doing it was not pleasant." 
 
 " Kindness !" said Hetty, warmly ; " well I thought 
 it down-right teasing. I certainly never took it for 
 kindness I never was so plagued in my life." 
 
 "Perhaps you were not attentive enough, in trying 
 to remember the little faults she told you of, Hetty, 
 and that made matters worse." 
 
 "Well, perhaps not," said Hetty, slowly and 
 thoughtfully ; " and yet, Bee, when I did try, it did 
 not seem to be much better." 
 
 " I think great allowances should be made for 
 your aunt," said old Mr. Grey ; " she has had many 
 trials and disappointments in life, and you should 
 bear with her as gently as you can. I believe she 
 is really and truly fond of you both at heart." 
 
 "Well, perhaps she may be after all," said Hett} 7 . 
 41 1 know that when I had that attack of influenza, 
 Mrs. Grey, I thought Aunt Louisa seemed very care
 
 CHARITY. 215 
 
 ful of me ; she used to come and see me many times 
 in the day, and bring me nice little things she had 
 made for me with her own band. Though she never 
 said much, I thought she seemed to feel for me." 
 
 " Well, dearest," said Beatrice, " always try and 
 judge as charitably of every one as you can. You 
 cannot expect to find everybody equally pleasant and 
 agreeable in their manners ; but allowances should 
 be made for all, and we should never try to find out 
 what a person's faults are, but think all the good of 
 them we possibly can." 
 
 " Walter, I have been thinking, this morning," 
 said his father, " that it would be a good plan for 
 you to take the steamboat and go down to Hartford, 
 and then go on to Mill Town and look out for a house, 
 and get it in some tolerable order before your wife 
 and Hetty go. You see, your mother's relations 
 in the place are strangers to Beatrice almost, I 
 may say, to ourselves and it would be much more 
 pleasant for her to have a home to go to at once." 
 
 " It would, indeed, father," said Walter. "What 
 do you say to that plan, dear Bee ? I do not know 
 that I should like to choose a house without consult- 
 ing you." 
 
 " Well, I will trust to your taste, Walter," said 
 nis wife, smiling; "but indeed I fancy you will 
 have little choice. From your description of it, Mill 
 Town appears to be a very small place, and I
 
 216 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 suppose, we shall have to put up with what we 
 can get." 
 
 "I think you had better choose what furniture 
 you want here, Walter, before you go," said his 
 mother, "and then take it down with you on the 
 boat; you can get it so much better and cheaper 
 here, and then Beatrice and you can please your 
 own taste." 
 
 " Yes, mother, that will be a capital plan," said 
 "Walter. " When could you go out with me, Bee ? 
 I should be glad to start for Mill Town in a day or 
 two." 
 
 "Well, then, suppose we go this morning," said 
 Beatrice ; " we are more likely to have callers in 
 the afternoon, and I suppose, I ought to be at home 
 to receive them for the next day or two." 
 
 "Do let me go out shopping with you, dear 
 Beatrice," said Hetty, "I have very good taste, 
 you know," she continued, laughing; "I should 
 choose such charmingly pretty things, if it were left 
 tome!" 
 
 " Left to you, indeed, Hetty," said her brother-in- 
 law, laughing too ; "I am afraid there would be 
 some queer things sent down to Mill Town if we 
 trusted to your selection. But come, at any rate, and 
 give us your opinion." 
 
 " Indeed, Master Walter, you are very polite," 
 said Hetty, tossing back her dark curls; "perhaps
 
 IRISH CONSTANCY. 217 
 
 if my opinion is so little valued, I shall not deign 
 to give it." 
 
 "Come, come," said Beatrice, "don't be quarrel- 
 ing, you naughty creatures ; come with me^ up- 
 stairs, Hetty, I want to give you Blanche's little box 
 now ; poor dear child, the making up of that parcel 
 was the result of a great deal of toil and labor on 
 her part. She began to collect things for you almost 
 as soon as we arrived at Palm Hill." 
 
 "O! yes," said Hetty, "but wait two or three 
 minutes, dear Bee, till I have finished breakfast. l I 
 have been talking so much I have forgotten to eat." 
 
 " I forgot to ask you, Hetty, if you had heard 
 anything lately of Pat Ryan and his wife ?" said 
 Beatrice. 
 
 " O I yes," said Hetty, "I have been to see them 
 several times at least I have seen Biddy and the 
 children. Pat I only saw once, after you left, just 
 the day before he sailed. Poor fellow, he seemed to 
 feel parting from his wife and children so much. I 
 did not see him at the time, but Biddy told me that 
 'he cried bitterly, sure enough.' I like Pat, he 
 seems such a warm-hearted fellow." 
 
 " When an Irishman is a good husband at all, he 
 is generally a very good husband," said old Mr. 
 Grey, who had been sitting quietly reading by the 
 fire ; " they are a very affectionate, warm-hearted 
 race of people."
 
 218 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 " I remember a friend of mine, \vho was an eye- 
 witness of the fact, telling me a very pretty story 
 about an Irishman's love for his wife/' said Walter ; 
 " I will tell it you while Hetty finishes her break- 
 fast. It happened a short time ago, when some 
 f ,roops were being shipped from the jetty at Kings-. 
 ton, near Dublin, for some foreign station. This 
 poor man was in one of these regiments, which had 
 been ordered abroad, and his heart was very sore at 
 the idea of parting with his wife, to whom he had 
 been lately married, who was not to be allowed to 
 go with him. There are only fourteen soldiers in 
 every company who are allowed to be married, ac- 
 cording to English military law, and it appears that 
 Pat and his wife had not obtained this military per- 
 mission to be married being over the prescribed 
 number yet, nevertheless, married they were. 
 This regulation may be a necessary one, as far as 
 government expenses are concerned, but certainly it 
 is a very cruel and wrong one as regards the men 
 themselves. So when the time came for embarking, 
 poor Aileen was told that she could not, by any pos- 
 sibility, be allowed to follow her husband ; and it 
 was with a heart almost bursting with grief that she 
 waved farewell to him from the quay, while Pat 
 stood on the deck looking at her in a terrible state 
 of mind. The wife, my friend told me, was a fine, 
 handsome-looking girl, and every one seemed to feel
 
 IRISH CONSTANCY. 219 
 
 for and pity the young couple, but it was of no use ; 
 military law knows no mercy. The anchor was 
 heaved, and the ship swung round, and most of the 
 officers of the regiment had retired below into the 
 cabin. The poop-deck was already eight or ten feet 
 from the edge of the quay, when, with a groan of 
 agony and resolution, Pat made a tremendous leap 
 from the deck to the shore, and rushing to his wife, he 
 caught her in his arms, and with an almost superhu- 
 man effort he leaped on to the deck again with the 
 treasure he could not bear to part from, and which he 
 had thus risked his life to obtain. A shout of admira- 
 tion rose from the bystanders, and this, together with 
 the crash of the heavy weight on the poop, brought up 
 the officers; and on the circumstances being told 
 them, Pat was allowed, to his great joy, to take his 
 Aileen aboard with him, with full military privileges." 
 
 "That is a very pretty story, Walter," said Hetty; 
 " but I wonder he could possibly leap that distance 
 with his wife in his arms." 
 
 "Why you see," said Walter, "I suppose the 
 deck was probably a good bit lower than the quay, 
 so that the return jump was the easiest ; but it is 
 astonishing what strong love and powerful will can 
 do. I have myself seen people perform feats of 
 strength, under the influence of some great excite- 
 ment, which I know they could not possibly have 
 
 done in a cooler moment." 
 19
 
 220 GEEATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 "It is just in the same way," said Mr Grey, 
 " that a person can walk three times the distance, 
 when eagerly engaged in pursuit of any object, that 
 he could if just taking a quiet, aimless ramble ; the 
 mind appears to endue the body with wonderful 
 energy." 
 
 " I am sure," said Mrs. Grey, " I have often felt, 
 when my children were little, that if any of them 
 were ill, I could lose my rest for nights together sit- 
 ting up with them ; and at another time, when I 
 had nothing to interest me, if I only missed a few 
 hours' sleep I should feel greatly wearied." 
 
 ""Well! I think Mrs. Grant will be here directly," 
 said Mr. Grey, rising from the breakfast table as 
 he spoke "suppose we adjourn to the study before 
 you go out shopping ; I should like to get that 
 little business over of which we were speaking last 
 night, Beatrice." 
 
 " Certainly, if you wish it, I am ready," said she, 
 sighing; and taking "Walter's arm, she crossed the hall 
 into the little study, followed by the rest of the party. 
 
 Just at that moment Mrs. Grant came in, and the 
 will was read to them all. It was found to be just 
 as Mr. Evelyn had told Beatrice. To his sister 
 Louisa he had left a comfortable maintenance for the 
 term of her natural life, and after her death, it was 
 to revert to his two daughters. The rest of the pro- 
 perty, with the exception of trifling legacies to
 
 THE WILL OPENED. 221 
 
 Socrates and one or two old servants and depend- 
 ents, was to be divided equally between Beatrice and 
 Hetty ; that of the latter remaining under her sister's 
 control till she should come of age or marry. To 
 Walter Grey were left President and the phaeton, and 
 such books and silver plate as had been saved from 
 the fire. 
 
 Mrs. Grant, though she seemed to feel her bro- 
 ther's kindness in thus providing for her, appeared 
 out of spirits. Hetty had told her that she was to go 
 to Mill Town to live with her sister, and to say the 
 truth, she did not much like the idea of being left 
 alone in New York. Beatrice read her feelings and 
 begged her aunt to come down and pay them a visit 
 as soon as they should be settled. She felt it wrong 
 to exhibit any want of cordiality toward her aunt, 
 for though she was not, perhaps, particularly plea- 
 sant as a visitor, Beatrice felt it her duty to show 
 her the respect and attention due by a niece. The 
 rest of the morning was spent in selecting furniture, 
 crockery, etc. Carpets and curtains could not, of 
 course, be bought till the house was decided upon, 
 and when Walter should come back for his wife 
 and Hetty, he was to bring all necessary particulars 
 as to dimensions, that they might be able to take 
 down with them whatever was required. 
 
 It was agreed that Walter should start, the follow- 
 ing morning, in search of their new home ; it was,
 
 222 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 indeed, an important epoch in their lives, and they 
 both felt it to be so. The untried future lay before 
 them ; "Walter's career as a physician was not yet 
 begun, and Beatrice was to be surrounded by new 
 faces and strange scenes, and fresh responsibilities. 
 They had not even yet a dwelling-place selected, but 
 they both felt that they could leave all trustfully in 
 the hands of their heavenly Father that the world 
 was not to be their home, but only a pilgrim state, 
 and that Mill Town was, as it were, but an inn by 
 the way -side. 
 
 " Where a sunlit isle, so greenly bright, 
 
 Lay circled in ocean's arm 
 Where the tall palms waved in dancing light, 
 And the breeze blew soft and warm 
 He sought himself a home. 
 
 Where the gorgeous town, its domes of gold 
 
 And turrets bright, upreared 
 Where the hum of multitudes untold, 
 
 Like murmuring seas, was heard 
 He sought himself a home. 
 
 Where the hills, with rolling clouds between, 
 
 Rose o'er hanging, gentle vales, 
 Which, bathed in a glow of sunlit green, 
 
 Lay shelter'd from wint'ry gales 
 He sought himself a home. 
 
 But ever and aye with wearied mind, 
 
 He restlessly long'd for change 
 Oh 1 where might the wanderer shelter find ? 
 
 Oh ! where through the wide earth's rang* 
 Where should he find a home
 
 HEAVEN OCR HOME. 223 
 
 As he lay, one morn, on his pallet bed, 
 
 He watch'd a lark uprise, 
 And straight resolv'd, ' I '11 bend my way 
 
 The road the songster flies 
 
 There will I find a home 1' 
 
 He watch'd its flight with anxious gaze, 
 
 "When soaring straight on high, 
 It turn'd aside to right nor loft, 
 
 But carolled in the sky 
 
 How might this be his home I 
 
 It seem'd to him that that sweet bird, 
 
 Said, ' Seek not rest below 
 Turn not thy thoughts to earth again 
 
 Sad scene of grief and woe 
 
 In Heaven must be thy home !' " B. Y.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 " It is beautiful, it is glorious, to serve what one loves. * * It may 
 be by giving one's heart's blood, or quite simply in making tea. It 
 is all the same it only depends upon time and opportunity." 
 
 FBEDERIEA BEEMEB. 
 
 " Mon ami, le public a bon nez, et ne se meprend guere." 
 
 MADAME DE SEVIGNE. 
 
 IT was not very long before Beatrice and Walter 
 were settled in their new home at Mill Town. A 
 house had been procured by Walter with but little 
 difficulty, and he had then returned to bring his wife, 
 Hetty, Socrates, and two servant girls, from New 
 York. The new home was quite a country place, 
 just outside the town, and it had delightful fields 
 and trees, and a well-stocked orchard surrounding it. 
 The trees were just in the full freshness of spring, 
 and the blossoms filled the air with their sweet per- 
 fume. Along one side of the house lay a long strip 
 of lawn, separated from the orchard by a low fence. 
 This was prettily laid out in flower-beds, and many 
 gay flowerets were already shining brightly there. 
 On the other side of the house rose a sunny green 
 
 (224 )
 
 ME. MELVILLE. 225 
 
 slope, with a small word crowning the summit, and 
 at the foot of this, on the other side, ran a sparkling 
 little brook, forming the boundary of the place in 
 that direction. Beatrice was very much pleased 
 with it all things looked so countrified and fresh, 
 and it was quite conveniently situated for Walter, too. 
 The phaeton had been disposed of in New York 
 exchanged for a doctor's buggy though President 
 was, of course, too old a favorite to be parted with ; 
 and it was not long before "Walter might be seen 
 driving about in various directions, actively engaged 
 in his new vocation. Mill Town, though as yet but 
 small and scattered, was tolerably populous, and 
 old Mrs. Grey's relations being some of the oldest 
 residents, it was easy for him to gain introductions. 
 "Walter had a particularly kind and gentle manner, 
 too ; and this, together with his really by-no-means- 
 to-be-despised professional skill, soon procured him 
 abundant employment. 
 
 Beatrice had scarcely arranged her new house in 
 anything like tolerable order, when their Mill Town 
 relations came to call upon them. Beatrice was 
 standing in the sitting-room with Hetty, busily en- 
 gaged in putting up muslin window-curtains, when 
 the door-bell rang, and Socrates ushered in the 
 party. By good fortune "Walter was at home, and 
 came in to help his wife to entertain their visitors. 
 Mr. Melville, the head of the family, was a rather
 
 226 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 stout, yet handsome old gentleman, of about sixty, 
 with a shining bald head, and dreamy-looking gray 
 eyes, by no means devoid of intellectual expression. 
 He had a large and flourishing farm, the boundaries 
 of which extended almost to the confines of the 
 Greys' little home. This farm had been in the 
 family for four generations, and was at present 
 admirably managed by the old steward, Mr. Brian 
 O'Reilly, which was, indeed, a most fortunate thing 
 for Mr. Melville, who was rather of a philosophic 
 and literary turn of mind than given to agricultural 
 pursuits. He was a kind-hearted gentleman, not 
 foolish or weak, but rather wanting, perhaps, in the 
 ability to command and manage. This deficiency 
 was, however, made up for by his wife, who was a 
 tall, fresh, agile woman, who seemed always on the 
 alert always on springs always planning,"fixing," 
 or arranging something. Full of kindly feeling, yet 
 warm and impetuous, she ruled her husband and 
 children with alternate love and severity. Her only 
 daughter, Laura, was a sprightly brunette, good- 
 looking certainly, but with something a shade too 
 quizzing and cynical in her expression and manner 
 to win love easily from strangers. Although by no 
 means an uninformed girl, she allowed herself to be 
 the slave of gossip ; and from thus interesting her- 
 self about trifles, she warped her mind from its native 
 superiority. Not a circumstance that had occurred
 
 ME. MELVILLE'S FAMILY. 227 
 
 in a neighbor's house was unknown to Laura not 
 a piece of intelligence did she hear but it would fly 
 like wild-fire over the parish. It would have been 
 really next to an impossibility for Laura to keep a 
 secret. She itched to tell a piece of news directly 
 she heard it ; and she really persuaded herself that 
 the sly hints she threw out, telling the news by im- 
 plication, were not at all breaches of the confidence 
 which had been reposed in her by those intrusting 
 her with the secret. Like all persons of this class 
 of character, she was given to remarking, sometimes 
 not too charitably, upon the persons, manners, and 
 household arrangements of all her acquaintances. 
 All this, as Beatrice afterward discovered, had be- 
 come almost a habit with poor Laura, who had 
 really a fund of good nature and kindly feeling in 
 her disposition. But her mother had, from child- 
 hood, encouraged her in making satirical remarks, 
 and laughed at her lively repartees and quaint 
 sallies. 
 
 There were two sons in the family the eldest 
 William, was a lawyer in New York. The second, 
 Claude ; was a handsome, intelligent fellow, of some 
 nineteen or twenty years. He was the spoiled child 
 of the family, and his mothers especial pet and pride. 
 A wild and wayward nature was that of Claude, and 
 it was found next to impossible to induce him to 
 apply himself steadily to any one profession ; but he
 
 228 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 was allowed pretty much the scope of his own free- 
 will his mother never doubting but that her darling 
 son would be sure to distinguish himself some day 
 or other ; and his father, unfortunately, in his gen- 
 tle, easy way, troubling himself very little about the 
 matter. But more of Claude Melville hereafter for 
 we must not forget that, while we are thus introducing 
 him to our readers, we have left his parents and sis- 
 ter standing in Beatrice Grey's drawing-room, mak- 
 ing their first acquaintance with their new relation. 
 
 Beatrice had a lively and pleasant manner in com- 
 pany, which soon made both her visitors and herself 
 at their ease. She particularly liked old Mr. Mel- 
 ville he seemed so gentle and fatherly, and showed 
 so much quiet good sense in his remarks. His wife, 
 too, seemed inclined to be very friendly and agreeable, 
 and promised to assist Beatrice in any way she could, 
 whether in domestic matters, or in making acquaint- 
 ances among the neighbors. While Walter and 
 Beatrice entertained Mr. and Mrs. Melville, Laura 
 was busily chatting with Hetty, and they finally left 
 the room together, at Laura's request, to reconnoiter 
 the rest of the house and the garden. After having 
 duly surveyed everything, the two girls continued 
 for some time walking up and down on the lawn, 
 and Laura said to her companion : 
 
 " I know this place very well by sight. A lady 
 named Parkinson lived here for many years, but
 
 MKS. PARKINSON. 229 
 
 she was such a very reserved person that we scarcely 
 saw anything of her. Poor thing! I remember 
 sometimes, when I was passing by on the road out- 
 side, I used to see her walking up and down here in 
 the garden in a black dress, with a book in her 
 hand, reading and she looked so tall, and thin, 
 and care-worn, I pitied her but I never liked to go 
 in and seek to comfort her in any way, for she 
 always seemed to shun society." 
 
 "What made her so unhappy?" said Hetty. 
 
 " "Why, we heard something of her story from an 
 old housekeeper of hers," replied Laura: "Mrs. 
 Parkinson was a widow, with an only son a bad, 
 vicious-looking man, of dreadfully intemperate ha- 
 bits, who used to annoy her a great deal, and cause 
 her much trouble of mind. He used to live mostly 
 in JSTew York, and when he got short of money, 
 he would come down here and wheedle his poor 
 mother out of nearly all she possessed, and then go 
 back and spend it in drinking and gambling, and all 
 sorts of wickedness. 
 
 "Well, to make matters worse, this wretched man 
 was married, some years ago, to a poor, unhappy, 
 gentle girl, (his second cousin, I believe,) who little 
 knew his character when she accepted him; and 
 after passing two miserable years with him, she 
 died, poor thing, leaving one little boy, a pretty, 
 
 delicate-looking little fellow. 
 15
 
 230 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 "I remember Mamma and I met Robert Parkinson 
 and his little son, one day, standing just outside the 
 gate. What a contrast it was the bloated, red- 
 faced man, and the pretty blue-eyed child : it re- 
 minded me of an angel and a fiend. 
 
 "Whenever Robert Parkinson came here to see hia 
 mother, he always brought the child with him, and 
 the old lady wanted him to let her have charge 
 of little Francis altogether, and thus keep him away 
 from the city and the dreadful places his father fre- 
 quented. But it was of no use, he would not part 
 with the child ; indeed his affection for him seemed 
 about the last lingering spark of goodness in his 
 character. 
 
 " Well, old Mrs. Norris told us, that one day last 
 summer, Mr. Parkinson came down here from New 
 York, in a dreadful state scarcely sober and that 
 there was, as usual, a scene of recriminations, en- 
 treaties, and angry words between him and his poor 
 mother ; and when he went away the old lady seemed 
 very low and miserable, and cried very much, tell- 
 ing Mrs. Norris that her son would break her heart. 
 Whether this was really the case, I cannot tell ; but 
 a few evenings after, she was found sitting under, 
 that large tree yonder, near the orchard, with her 
 Bible in her hand, quite dead. She is buried in the 
 church -yard at Mill Town, and the house has re- 
 mained untenanted till now, as the poor people about
 
 LAUKA AND HETTY. 231 
 
 here believe that her ghost haunts the garden, gliding 
 slowly up and down with a book in its hand." 
 
 "Poor! poor lady!" said Hetty, sighing "I 
 can 't say I am afraid of the ghost myself, but I shall 
 never see that old tree without thinking of her sad 
 end." 
 
 " I wonder what has become of that poor little 
 Francis," said Laura, " it does seem so wretched for 
 a child to be left among such people as his father's 
 associates." 
 
 "It does, indeed," said Hetty. 
 
 " Who is that old black man, working in the gar- 
 den ?" asked Laura. 
 
 " O ! that is old Socrates, and a good old man 
 he is he has been a servant in our family ever 
 since Beatrice was quite a little girl, and now he has 
 become so much attached to us all, that he would 
 not hear of leaving us when dear Papa died, so 
 Walter and Beatrice have brought him down here." 
 
 " Don't you think you shall find it horribly dull 
 in this place ?" said Laura. 
 
 " O ! no," said Hetty ; " why I can't fancy how it 
 could be dull. There are so many, many things to 
 be done in the country particularly where there is 
 such a nice garden as we have and then, you 
 know, there are books, and music, and work. Be- 
 side, I never could be dull with Beatrice ; and if all 's 
 well, I am to go, in the autumn, to stay with Wai-
 
 232 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 ter's father and mother, and have lessons from dif- 
 ferent masters ; and I ought to study hard during the 
 summer months, to prepare for them so you see, I 
 am not likely to feel it dull." 
 
 "Well!" said Laura, "I have books and music, 
 and all that sort of thing, but I find the place terri- 
 bly monotonous. I go out and chat with neighbors 
 and pick up what little news I can, or I don't know 
 how I should get on." 
 
 Hetty looked at her in some surprise, and then 
 said : " Well, I don't see what interest there can be 
 in other people's affairs ; unless they are persons we 
 know very well, I shouldn't care to hear about 
 them." 
 
 " Well ! you 're a queer girl," said Laura, laugh- 
 ing " but come, I think mamma and papa will be 
 waiting for me ; let us go into the house. 53 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Melville and Laura soon took 
 leave, begging the Greys and Hetty to come over to 
 Springfield and see them, as soon as they could. 
 
 "Well! these are pleasant people, my dear," 
 said Mr. Melville to his wife, as they walked down 
 the road toward their house ; " I think Mrs. Grey is 
 a remarkably sweet young woman." 
 
 " Well ! I 've no fault to find with her," replied 
 she, "but I'm afraid our new doctor is rather 
 young-looking why, he cannot certainly be more 
 than twenty-five."
 
 BEATEICE AND HETTY. 233 
 
 "Well! Mamma, he looks sober enough," said 
 Laura, " I don't think I saw him laugh once while 
 we were in the room ; but, perhaps, you had better 
 make him a present of a pair of spectacles to give 
 him a venerable appearance." 
 
 "Well! my dear, he laughed heartily enough 
 when you and the younger sister were out of the 
 room. I think him a very gentlemanly young man, 
 and he will be such a nice companion for William 
 and Claude, when they are down here." 
 
 " I think Henrietta Evelyn seems a very nice 
 girl," said Laura, " and that is more than I usually 
 say of any one after a first visit. She is pretty, too, 
 don't you think so, Mamma ?" 
 
 "Yes! love, she certainly is but it is quite a 
 different style of beauty from that of her sister, with 
 those long, dark curls, and merry hazel eyes." 
 
 " Well ! I feel very glad, altogether, that they are 
 come to live so near us," said Laura. 
 
 How much did Beatrice and Hetty enjoy the 
 country that summer ! But little happened to annoy 
 them beyond a few occasional troubles with ser 
 vants one of the girls they brought from New 
 York going away in a fright, after hearing, from 
 some idle tattler, the foolish story of old Mrs. Par- 
 kinson's ghost.
 
 234 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 Aunt Louisa came down and spent a month with 
 them, and was never in such good humor although, 
 it is true, that she occasionally did- her best to keep 
 her nieces in order, and rather fidgeted Beatrice by 
 finding fault with the manner in which various 
 things about the house were dusted, arranged, or 
 cleaned and poor Hetty came in sometimes for a 
 reprimand if there was the slightest sign of disorder 
 in any part of her wearing apparel nevertheless, 
 matters went on, in general, very smoothly. 
 
 Old Mr. and Mrs. Grey came down from New 
 York several times in the course of the summer, 
 just to spend a day or two, as the former could not 
 well be longer spared from his ministerial duties, 
 and there were several families around who were 
 pleasant neighbors, beside the Melvilles, with whom 
 they were very intimate. 
 
 It was one fine evening about the middle of July, 
 Beatrice was standing leaning over the fence that 
 separated the orchard from the lawn, talking to Het- 
 ty, awaiting her husband's return from visiting a 
 patient. It was growing quite dusk, but it was so 
 cool and pleasant, that it seemed a pity to go into 
 the house. 
 
 It was not long before they saw Walter's buggy 
 coming slowly along the road, with President pro- 
 ceeding at only a walking pace. 
 
 "Dear me!" exclaimed Beatrice, "I wonder if
 
 THE SICK BOY. 235 
 
 anything is the matter ! Why can Walter be driving 
 BO slowly ?" and she ran down the garden walk, 
 followed by her sister. They soon saw that Walter 
 was leaning down over some object resting on his 
 left arm, while with his right he guided the reins; 
 and he appeared to be so intently absorbed, that it 
 was not till the buggy came close to his wife and 
 sister, that he perceived they were there. 
 
 " O ! come on to the house, dear Bee !" he ex- 
 claimed, " make haste, love, and I will tell you all!" 
 
 Beatrice started when she saw Walter lift from 
 the buggy what seemed to be the inanimate body 
 of a little boy. His jacket and trowsers, though of 
 fine cloth, were soiled and dusty, and his fair hair 
 clustered thickly round a forehead that was pale and 
 cold as marble ; his eyes were closed, and Beatrice 
 would have thought him dead, had not Walter has- 
 tily assured her to the contrary. 
 
 " I am going to carry him up-stairs and lay him 
 on your bed, Hetty," said Walter. "Poor little fel- 
 low ! I discovered him just in time," continued he, 
 going slowly up the staircase with his burden. 
 " He was lying in a ditch about half a mile from 
 the house, and it was so dusk I could scarcely dis- 
 cover what it was among the thick, dank green grass ; 
 but I got out of the buggy to see, and found him in 
 this state. Where he comes from we cannot tell til* 
 he is restored to consciousness." 
 20
 
 236 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 It was with a careful and gentle hand that Bea- 
 trice, under her husband's superintendence, knelt 
 by the bedside of the little sufferer, and adminis 
 tered the necessary restoratives ; and it was not very 
 long before he opened his blue eyes and looked at 
 her for a moment, and then closed them again with 
 a helpless sigh of weakness. After the lapse of a 
 quarter of an hour, he seemed somewhat revived, 
 and began looking curiously and anxiously around 
 him. Beatrice whispered in his ear : " Do not be 
 alarmed, dear child ; there are none but friends 
 here." 
 
 " Where am 1 2" said the little boy. " O ! I 'm 
 so glad to be out of that dusty road. Is this my 
 grandmamma's ? I was coming to my grandmam- 
 ma's. Haughty men took poor Papa away, and 
 turned me into the street, so I came to look for my 
 grandmamma." 
 
 Beatrice made him be quiet for the present, for 
 he was too weak to talk much, and he soon fell into 
 a refreshing sleep. About nine o'clock, after tea, 
 Beatrice again came up-stairs to visit her- little 
 patient, and found him awake, and looking consid- 
 erably better. The little fellow raised himself on 
 one elbow, and looked inquiringly round the room. 
 
 "In my grandmamma's room," he said, "there 
 was a blue paper like this ; but you are not- my 
 grandmamma ; she was tall, and had a white cap
 
 FKANCTS PARKINSON. 237 
 
 on. Will you fetch her, please ? She was always 
 good to poor Franky." 
 
 " "Why, Beatrice," said Hetty, who was in the 
 room, "this must surely be little Francis Parkinson! 
 the grandson, you know, of the old lady who used 
 to live here. Isn't your name Francis Parkinson, 
 dear?" 
 
 "No, but my Papa's name is Mr. Parkinson," 
 said the child, eagerly fixing his blue eyes on Hetty. 
 " My name is Frauky, and I had a grandmamma 
 who lived near here, and had a room like this, and 
 her name was 'grandmamma mother,' I think, for 
 I used to call her Grandmamma, and Papa used to 
 call her ' mother.' " 
 
 " You are quite right you see, Hetty," said her 
 sister, " it is the same child. Poor little fellow ! 
 what is to be done with him ?" 
 
 Little Francis had raised himself half out of the 
 bed, and now said to Beatrice : 
 
 " I 'm sure this must be my grandmamma's room. 
 This is the same old bed that Papa and I used to 
 sleep in, for here's a place where I scratched the 
 wood with a pin to make a picture of Papa, and 
 then I know he scolded me, and said that grand- 
 mamma didn't like her beds scratched." 
 
 " It is your grandmamma's house," said Beatrice, 
 " but she is gone a long way off, so I must be kind 
 to you to-night. Lie down now, Franky, and go to
 
 238 GREATNESS IN LlTTLE THINGS. 
 
 sleep, and I will tell you more about her to-morrow. 
 I am going to send you up some nice new milk and 
 a bun for your supper ; so now good night, dear 
 cnild." 
 
 Little Francis was easily pacified, and when he 
 awoke next morning, he was surprisingly better, and 
 although still weak, he was able to walk about with 
 Hetty. 
 
 It appeared that somehow or other the poor child 
 had managed to make his way from New York to 
 Hartford, having a little money in his pocket, and 
 having frequently traveled the same journey with 
 his father ; that on arriving at Hartford he began to 
 walk along the Mill Town road, and met a man 
 with a cart, who took him up and carried him some 
 considerable distance, and then set him down, and 
 the little fellow trotted on, the best way he could 
 asking of all he met the way to Mill Town, and 
 occasionally buying a cake or a piece of bread ; and 
 that he had nearly reached his late grandmother's 
 house, when the unwonted exertion, and the fatigue 
 induced by walking so far on a hot summer's day, 
 completely overcame him, and he lay down in a 
 ditch by the wayside, where he was found by Walter. 
 
 What surprised them all was how so young a 
 child could have found his way so far! But so it 
 was and it now only remained to be decided what 
 was the best thing to do with him. It was at length
 
 THE SEARCH. 239 
 
 settled that Walter should go to New York and en- 
 deavor to find out Mr. Parkinson ; for certainly, bad 
 though he appeared to be, he had the best claim to 
 the child, and it would not be right to dispose of 
 little Francis without consulting him. 
 
 There was something peculiarly sweet and love- 
 able, about the little fellow : it seemed as though 
 scenes of coarse revelry and wickedness, had passed 
 by him with their foul breath, and left him unpol- 
 luted. There was a shade of melancholy sadness, 
 over his little pale face, and a delicate transparency 
 in hie cheek, that reminded ope of a fragile hot- 
 house flower. 
 
 He appeared very much grieved, when told of his 
 grandmother's death. He said the garden looked 
 very dull, without grandmamma and her brown 
 Bible "she used to tell me about the Bible," 
 continued he "and our dear Saviour, and the 
 beautiful angels and such nice things : once, Papa 
 left me here for three days ; oh ! that was such 
 a nice time ! it was so quiet and still in this 
 pretty garden ; and people, where we go in to New 
 York, seem always to make such a noise and they 
 never talk about the angels at all and when they 
 say God's name, they don't seem as if they loved 
 him." 
 
 Beatrice looked at Hetty, and smiled a sad smile : 
 it was sweet to see so pure-minded a child, and it
 
 240 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 was sad indeed, to think to what he had been 
 exposed. 
 
 Walter resolved to start, the following day, in 
 search of Mr. Parkinson, but how to discover his 
 whereabouts he could not tell. At last Beatrice 
 suggested, that they might probably be able to gain 
 some intelligence concerning him from Mrs. Norris, 
 the old housekeeper, who had lived with his mother 
 RO many years. After her mistress' death, she had 
 rented a small cottage in Mill Town, and Beatrice 
 and Hetty walked over to see her, and learned 
 
 from her, that the II hotel, in New York, was 
 
 the place where Mr. Parkinson usually boarded ; 
 for she said, she had seen the direction often on 
 his carpet-bag but beyond that, she knew nothing. 
 
 We will not weary our readers with an account 
 of all the annoyances experienced by Walter, while 
 endeavoring to find out the wretched Mr. Parkinson. 
 He learned from the waiter at the hotel mentioned 
 by old Mrs. Norris, that he had been boarding 
 there, till very lately, and that he was in the habit 
 
 of frequenting a gambling-house on street ; but 
 
 that a few nights before (evidently the occasion 
 referred to by little Francis) the police had entered 
 the house at a late hour of the night, and arrested 
 several of the party, turning the rest of the people 
 in the place, out into the street, and locking up the 
 doors. The waiter said he had seen in the papers
 
 THE SEARCH. 241 
 
 that Mr. Parkinson and several others, had been 
 discharged from custody, the following day, after 
 paying a fine, and that he had come to the hotel, 
 making inquiry for his little boy, and that he seemed 
 a good deal distressed, when told that nothing had 
 been seen of him ; " but he did not appear to un- 
 derstand much else, or to know how to set about 
 looking for him, sir," continued the waiter, " for he 
 was most too far gone in liquor, at the time ; indeed 
 1 may say, I have hardly ever seen him sober, sir, 
 and his health has failed a good deal, of late. 
 That poor child had a sad life with his father, though 
 in general, I guess, he was pretty kind to him, 
 unless he was more than ordinary-ways drunk and 
 then, may-be, he would ill-treat him a bit: but the 
 little fellow never complained, and he would color 
 up and seem as fierce-like as possible, if he heard 
 any one saying anything ag'in' his father. I'm 
 right glad, sir, to hear as you've got the little chap 
 safe in the country " 
 
 "I wish I could find out his father," said Walter 
 
 "Well, sir, as I said before, he left this 'ere 
 
 hotel some days ago, and where he 's gone I can't 
 
 tell. May-be if you advertised he wouldn't see it, 
 
 for I guess, he ain't much given to reading." 
 
 Walter thanked the man for his information, and 
 again walked out into the street, very much unde-
 
 242 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 oided how to act indeed he almost gave up the idea 
 of searching for Mr. Parkinson, it seemed so hopeless 
 in such a city as New York, and he resolved that 
 the rest of that day should be spent quietly at his 
 father's house, which was, of course, his home, 
 while in the city. 
 
 The next day, as Walter was slowly walking 
 along in one of the most crowded thoroughfares of 
 the city, he passed by an undertaker's store, and 
 happening, accidentally, to look in, he saw standing 
 there a young man, of rather dandyish appearance,' 
 whose features seemed familiar to him. He stopped 
 and looked again it was Claude Melville. 
 
 "Why Claude! what are you doing here?" ex- 
 claimed Walter, in astonishment " this is the 
 place that, of all others, I should least have ex- 
 pected to find you in !" 
 
 Claude did not look particularly glad to see 
 Walter, he started and colored slightly, when the 
 latter entered the store, but he advanced to meet 
 him, and shaking hands, he said, with a forced 
 laugh: " Well, to say the truth, it is ; but you see, 
 I 'm getting a coffin for a friend of mine an unfor- 
 tunate fellow who's done for himself at last though 
 he was a jolly dog, too." Walter looked grave, and 
 said quietly : v 
 
 " What was his name, Claude 2"
 
 PARKINSON'S DEATH. 243 
 
 ""Well, his name was Parkinson. 1 believe he 
 had a mother who used to live somewhere near that 
 slow place. Mill Town." 
 
 " Good God !" said Walter; " why that's the very 
 man I'm in search of, Claude. His boy found his 
 way down to our house to look for his grandmother, 
 and I came up to see if I could gain any tidings of 
 the father !" 
 
 " Well, then, you needn't look any more," said 
 Claude, in a surly tone "and it wasn't a doctor 
 killed him this time, but an accident. I suppose 
 you 've heard about those rowdy policemen coming 
 and turning us all out in the middle of our game, 
 the other night ! Well, next day, when we were let 
 out of that confounded watch-house, we first went 
 and had a glass of something to keep our spirits up, 
 and then Parkinson went off to the hotel he used to 
 board at, to see if he could find, that little pale-faced 
 brat of his, that he always would carry about with 
 him, and during the next day or two he was quite in 
 the dumps because he could hear nothing of him; so 
 last night, I and one or two other fellows got him to 
 come and have a spree, and we made him gloriously 
 drunk well, a little too much so for in coming 
 home Parkinson's foot slipped, and he fell with his 
 head on the curb-stone, and never spoke again. So 
 there 's the end of it, if you wish to know. I 'm sorry 
 for him, myself, for he was a jolly sort of fellow!" 
 21
 
 244 GKEATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 "Oh! Claude, Claude!" said Walter, "how can 
 you talk in that heartless way! To think oh ! only 
 to think, that you should yourself have had, as it 
 were, some share in his death, and then be able to 
 speak of it so lightly !" 
 
 "How dare you say that I had any share in 
 his death, sir !" said Claude, his color rising as he 
 spoke ; " why, good gracious ! I 've often got heady 
 myself, but then I never happened to fall on the 
 curb-stone why, how absurd you are, Walter 
 Grey!" 
 
 "Why, Claude!" said Walter, earnestly "you 
 will allow even to yourself, that this drunkenness 
 was the cause of this unfortunate wretch's death 
 drunkenness, too, encouraged by you, according to 
 your own confession what is the inference? how- 
 ever, I leave that to your own conscience. Only let 
 me entreat you to take the warning home, and see 
 to what a beastly state the habit of intoxication 
 reduces a man." 
 
 "Don't lecture me, sir," said Claude, angrily ; ;< I 
 hate your milksops of men ! Now, I dare say you 
 were never drunk in your life ! and let me tell 
 you, I despise you for it such a tame, sneaking 
 way of living !" 
 
 " I should certainly feel greatly ashamed," said 
 Walter, calmly " if I thought I had ever thus 
 degraded myself. I should be sorry so far to lose all
 
 WALTER'S ADVICE. 245 
 
 self- respect as to be capable of doing such a thing. 
 Is there any true heroism in sin, Claude? is it not 
 far, far nobler to conquer the evil passions of our 
 nature, than weakly to yield to them? can it be 
 anything worthy of admiration for man, a mere 
 worm, to exalt himself against God, who is all great- 
 lies, all goodness, all purity ? Oh ! believe me, be- 
 lieve me, Claude ! that these things only bring misery 
 and unhappiness, and lower you in the eyes of those 
 whose opinion is the best worth having." 
 
 "Well!" said Claude, somewhat softened ; "I'm 
 not going on in this way always. I intend settling 
 down quite steadily some day or other." 
 
 "Believe me, Claude, once more!" said Walter, 
 " that you cannot * touch pitch and not be defiled' 
 you cannot indulge in sinful pleasures and be the 
 same man, afterward, as if you had not done so 
 you may repent, you may be sorry in after years, 
 but oh ! you can never be the same. And beside, 
 who can reckon, with any certainty, on having these 
 years of the future to repent in ? Look at poor Par* 
 kinson how little did he think last night would be 
 his last !" 
 
 Claude made no reply ; at last he said " I say, 
 Grey, don't you mention, at home, about seeing me 
 here there's a good fellow they'd be bothering 
 
 themselves as to how I got acquainted with Parkin- 
 16
 
 246 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 son; and, perhaps, the less that is said about that 
 the better." 
 
 " I won't betray you," said "Walter, " only let me 
 beg of you to try and be steadier. Pray, do you 
 know if Mr. Parkinson had anything to leave to his 
 child ?" 
 
 "Bless you, no, man; why since his mother's 
 death when he had spent what little money she 
 left he has just lived by gambling; at one time, 
 perhaps, owning a good bit, and then losing it all 
 again ; so I guess you won't gain much if you mean 
 to take care of the child." 
 
 " O ! never mind," said "Walter, " we shall be 
 able to arrange all that, I dare say. Good morning." 
 
 "When Walter returned to Oakwood, it was de- 
 cided by himself and Beatrice that little Francis 
 should be adopted as an inmate of their family 
 To the future they would not selfishly look forward, 
 by thinking whether the child might be a burden 
 and inconvenience to them their line of duty, for 
 the present, seemed to be to befriend and protect 
 him ; and there -was something so sweet and win- 
 ning in the little fellow's looks and ways that they 
 both felt it would be a task of love. 
 
 Many people wondered at it ; but when will peo- 
 ple cease to wonder at one-another's actions ? The 
 Greys felt the child to be cast on their sympathy
 
 WELCOME LETTERS. 247 
 
 and love, and richly were they rewarded ; but more 
 hereafter of little Francis. 
 
 Two or three times during that summer Beatrice 
 received letters from Madame de Tremonille kind- 
 hearted, affectionate letters telling of herself and 
 all her doings of little Blanche, who, she said, had 
 become dearer to her than ever and of all the 
 friends whom Beatrice had known during her West 
 India sojourn. 
 
 And these letters were welcomed by Beatrice with 
 great joy, for their perusal brought back vividly be- 
 fore her mind an epoch in her own life, too strik- 
 ingly fraught both with sorrow and with joy to be 
 unmarked or unremembered
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 * How many summers, love, 
 
 Have I been thine ? 
 How many days, thou dove, 
 
 Hast thou been mine ? 
 Look where our children start, 
 
 Like sudden spring; 
 With tongue all sweet and low, 
 
 Like a pleasant rhyme, 
 They tell how much I owe 
 
 To thee and thine." 
 55 ABET CORNWALL'S "POET'S SONG TO HIS WIFE." 
 
 " We have been friends together, in sunshine and in shade, 
 Since first beneath the chestnut-tree, in infancy we played ; 
 But coldness dwells within thy heart a cloud is on thy brow 
 We have been friends together can a light word part us now !" 
 
 FOUR years have rolled away since we took our 
 last peep at Oaktfood and its inhabitants. Four 
 years ! what changes may not take place in four 
 years ; and if we look again at Oakwood, we shall 
 find that Time has wrought some changes there. 
 
 Merry voices are heard now on the soft green 
 grass before the house, for little Clement, Beatrice's 
 eldest child, a rosy boy of three summers, is shout- 
 ing in a game of play with a beautiful but pale-faced 
 (248)
 
 A FAMILY PICTURE. 249 
 
 boy of nine or ten our old friend, little Francis 
 and baby Mary comes, half-creeping, half-walking 
 along, rattling her coral-and -bells, and screaming 
 with delight at the fun she is too small to understand. 
 Beatrice has grown somewhat more matronly than 
 when we saw her last, but she looks as beautiful and 
 as loving as ever, sitting in that, rustic garden -seat 
 with a piece of work in her hands, watching her 
 childrens' sports, and ever and anon laughing as 
 merrily as themselves. But we will follow the 
 doings of herself and her household for awhile. 
 
 She was roused at last, by hearing her husband's 
 voice behind her whistling, and holding out his fin- 
 ger to the baby, who toddled to meet him. Seating 
 himself by his wife's side, he said : 
 
 " "Well, Bee, I have had a hard day's work, and am 
 quite glad to get a quiet rest. How is Hetty now P 
 
 Beatrice's expression changed as she replied : 
 " Well, poor girl, she seems veiy low-spirited. I 'm 
 sure I do not know how to act for the best, Walter. 
 She is up-stairs in her room now, and when she 
 came down, half an hour ago, to fetch something, her 
 eyes looked as though she had been crying a good 
 deal. Dear Hetty ! I cannot bear that she should 
 be unhappy ; and yet I feel sometimes as if it were 
 better to leave her to herself, and let her think 
 calmly over the matter." 
 
 " Dear me," said Walter, sorrowfully, "I could
 
 250 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 wish she and Claude Melville had never met ! He 
 is so utterly unworthy of her ; and yet she, with her 
 trusting, loving, impulsive heart, won't believe it 
 and that's the worst of it, dear wife and she so 
 young too! why she's not more than seventeen, is 
 ehe ?" 
 
 " She will be .eighteen in the autumn," replied 
 Beatrice ; " I can't think what there is in Claude 
 Melville to win such love and admiration he is so 
 unlike Hetty though he's certainly a handsome 
 man, too " 
 
 " If one could only place the slightest dependence 
 on him," said Walter, in a tone of vexation. "He 
 seems sincere now in his profession of love for 
 Hetty and what wonder is it that she should win 
 that love, handsome and lovable as she is ? But 
 oh dear ! Bee, what are Claude's habits ! those of a 
 roue at twenty -three: the pity and the wonder is, 
 that TIG should win her love " 
 
 "Well, Walter, after all, it is only candid to 
 confess, that Claude can be very amusing and plea- 
 sant, when he likes. Why, in spite of all his 
 wildness and follies, he is the life of the house 
 whenever he is at home: there are few people I 
 know, who can make sketches, or sing a song, or 
 entertain a company of friends better than he can " 
 
 "Here's Hetty just coming out on the lawn," 
 said Walter ; " do not let us worry her about it
 
 CLAUDE AND HETTY. 251 
 
 now let her enjoy a game of play with the child- 
 ren, and then you can speak to her privately on the 
 subject, dear wife perhaps that will be the beso 
 way." 
 
 Hetty came slowly across the lawn: she has 
 grown into a fine and beautiful young woman, since 
 we saw her last ! Her face now wore a sad expression, 
 but it brightened when little Clement and Francis 
 welcomed her with a joyous shout, and running up 
 to her, begged her to come and play with them. 
 The evening was closing around them the light 
 of a soft summer's day was fast waning in the 
 western sky. Walter went into the house and sat 
 down to read a book in the drawing-room, after 
 the lamp had been lighted; little Francis fetched 
 his accordion, and sat on one of the low window- 
 sills, playing his favorite melodies. The child had a 
 peculiarly accurate ear for music: indeed music 
 was, with him, a passion it seemed a part of him- 
 self to thrill through his whole being. He could 
 already find out tunes by ear, on Beatrice's piano- 
 forte, and accompany himself with his sweet, 
 melodious, childish voice. There was something 
 that was perhaps, scarcely appertaining to a boy's 
 nature in Francis : he was so very gentle, and 
 quiet, and sensitive. He was beloved by the whole 
 household : no one could harm Francis, or have 
 the heart to tease him. The slightest word of
 
 252 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 anger, would wound him to the quick, and to Bea 
 trice and Walter, he looked up as to a father and 
 mother ; and they truly loved the gentle boy, who 
 was so kind to their little ones, and who repaid their 
 kindness by such unwearied and devoted love. He 
 now sat playing familiar airs, in a kind of dreamy 
 happiness, alone and undisturbed for Beatrice 
 had gone up-stairs to see her little ones to bed, and 
 Hetty was still walking up and down the garden- 
 path in a kind of melancholy reverie. 
 
 The closing darkness had begun to render sur- 
 rounding objects very indistinct, when Hetty heard 
 a low whistle on the other side of the garden-hedge, 
 which she knew but too well. It was Claude ; and 
 gliding softly along, in a moment she was by his 
 side. 
 
 "Is that you, my Hetty?" he said ; "I hoped 
 you might hear me! how glad I am you could 
 come, sweet love " 
 
 " Oh ! Claude, I am very, very unhappy," sobbed 
 Hetty, leaning her head against his shoulder. 
 
 "Why, what's the matter, darling? have that 
 bothering old brother and sister of yours been 
 plaguing you ?" 
 
 "Oh! please, don't speak of them in that way, 
 Claude they are so kind ; they only wish me to be 
 happy, I 'm sure I 'in sure they do " 
 
 " Well then, why do they make this fuss?" asked
 
 CLAUDE AND HETTY. 253 
 
 Claude, impatiently ; " shall we not be happy 
 together, dear Hetty? I'm sure no one could love 
 you half as well as I do !" 
 
 " I know you love mo, dear Claude," said Hetty, 
 trustfully ; but when I hear things said against 
 you, I like to hear from yourself, that they are 
 false of course, I know they must be " 
 
 "What things, dearest tell me; what can they 
 find to say against me ?" Hetty hesitated. 
 
 "Why, Claude, they have spoken," said she 
 timidly, as if you were sometimes too fond of drink, 
 and of gambling ; but, you know, I did not believe 
 them; I only like to tell you about it, that you 
 may know why they do not wish us to see more of 
 each other." 
 
 Claude flinched a little, as he thought of all that 
 "Walter Grey knew of his going on, and Beatrice, 
 too, for aught he could tell ; but he said, hurriedly : 
 " Nonsense, dear Hetty ; have you ever seen me 
 tipsy, or betting, or anything of the kind? You 
 should never believe idle reports without seeing 
 the truth for yourself. Beside," he added, "if I 
 have done wrong sometimes, dear Hetty, I mean to 
 be very good now ; you are going to make me BO, 
 you know." 
 
 " God only can make us good : you must not say 
 that, Claude," said Hetty, gravely.
 
 254: GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 " O ! I know," said he, carelessly ; " I meant that, 
 only I did n't express it. I feel I shall owe you a 
 great deal, Hetty. Yon know, I have never hap- 
 pened to find a profession to suit me, and if we 
 can manage to stock the farm I was speaking of, 
 with part of your money, why we shall be quite 
 rich, and as happy as the days are long. It will 
 seem like being dependent on my sweet little wife at 
 first, but never mind ! we shall do great things yet, 
 and there shall not be such another farm in the 
 whole country as ours. Do not you trust me, dear 
 girl?" 
 
 " I do, I do, Claude. I will not mind what is 
 said of you have I not said I will be yours ? Whole 
 worlds could not separate us now that is, if your 
 love is the same." 
 
 "My life! what have I without you?" said 
 Claude, kissing her. " Be firm, love, and all will 
 go right. You know the old saying is, " The 
 course of true love never did run smooth." 
 
 "I. must go in, now, Claude; I'm afraid I have 
 already lingered too long. Beatrice will be won- 
 dering what has become of me. Good-night, dear 
 Claude." 
 
 " Good-night, darling, if you must go." 
 
 She was at the house in a minute. Oh ! what a 
 trusting loving heart that was! yet oh! how mis-
 
 THE DISCLOSURE. 255 
 
 its trust ! Sweet Hetty ! why close your ears 
 to the voice of warning till it be too late ? Why did 
 Hetty color like a guilty thing, when on stepping 
 \nto the drawing-room she saw both Walter and 
 Beatrice look up at her from where they were quietly 
 flitting, reading and working ? Why was it ? It 
 was not that she meant to use deception for she 
 had determined to tell Beatrice of what Claude had 
 xsaid of himself and of her having seen him in the 
 garden. Hetty was impulsive and hasty, but she 
 nad a soul above deceit it had no place in her 
 character and she looked up to Beatrice as to a 
 mother, although in this instance, perhaps for the 
 first time in her life, she thought her mistaken mis- 
 taken with reference to Claude. Neither her sister 
 nor Walter, however, made any remark to her at the 
 present moment, to her great relief; and she soon 
 after went to bed, pleading a headache as an excuse 
 for retiring early. 
 
 Next morning, while they were all sitting at 
 breakfast, a letter came in from New York, from old 
 Mrs. Grey to Beatrice. The latter bit her lip with 
 vexation as she read it ; it was a congratulatory let- 
 ter on the approaching marriage of Claude and 
 Hetty! The old lady said "she had received the 
 news that morning from Laura Melville, and that she 
 was, indeed, surprised to hear it having received 
 no hint on the subject from either her son or her
 
 256 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 daughter-in-law. Laura had enjoined profound 
 secrecy on the subject," she continued, " but that 
 she did not suppose it probable that the injunction 
 should extend to Beatrice, as it was so unlikely that 
 Hetty and Claude should be engaged without her 
 knowledge and consent." Walter looked up in snr- 
 prise at his wife, as she read the letter, and then 
 turning to Hetty, whose face was crimsoned with 
 blushes, he said almost sternly : 
 
 "Hetty, how could you think of letting Claude 
 speak publicly of your engagement in his own fam- 
 ily ? Why did matters go so far without your sister 
 and myself knowing it ?" 
 
 " Oh 1 Walter, Walter, indeed I had nothing to 
 do with it," said Hetty, bursting into tears. " Claude 
 said one day, that he had told his mother, privately, 
 that we that we loved each other, and that she said 
 she was very glad of it ; but more than this he pro- 
 mised me not to say to any one. Oh! do not judge 
 harshly of me, dear Walter and Beatrice. I have 
 no secrets from you, I am sure; you know all, and 
 how far everything has been settled." 
 
 " Well, don't cry, Hetty," said Walter ; " I see 
 how it is. I suppose Mrs. Melville disclosed to 
 Laura what Claude had told her as a great secret, 
 probably and Laura, as you might fancy, could 
 not rest with a piece of news to communicate, but 
 must needs write off to New York instanter. Oh !
 
 HETTY'S CONFIDENCE. 257 
 
 what a pity it is to be such a gossip ! But never 
 mind about my mother hearing it the news will 
 not spread any farther with her and you know," 
 he continued, looking earnestly at Hetty, " I do not 
 think matters have gone so far that they cannot be 
 recalled. I'm sure I hope not." 
 
 "Oh ! Walter, how can you ? I wish you to arrange 
 everything ; but we are promised to each other now 
 I could never, never love any one else. Why should 
 you and Beatrice dislike poor Claude so much ?" 
 
 " Hetty, why should you judge so wrongly of 
 me?" said her brother-in-law. "Why can you not 
 believe, my dear sister, that I wish all for your good, 
 and that I would not say a word against the mar- 
 riage, if I thought Claude Melville worthy to be your 
 husband ? As to the promise, it would be better to 
 break that now than to take a step you might rue 
 for life." 
 
 " But he is good now, Walter," said Hetty, burst- 
 ing afresh into tears ; " indeed, indeed he is. You 
 don't know how steady and persevering he means to 
 be. I know he loves me too well to do anything 
 to annoy me." 
 
 " Sister," said Beatrice earnestly, " do you really 
 think he has Christian principles ? Without these, 
 what reliance can be placed on any one's conduct ? 
 Dear Hetty, how can you be happy together if ho 
 does not love God 3"
 
 258 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 "But he is not careless," said Hetty warmly; 
 u we have often talked together on serious subjects, 
 and he seems to think just as I do." 
 
 "Acquiescence is not practice," said Walter, 
 gravely ; "I only hope Claude may be all you be- 
 lieve him to be. Do not think me harsh or unkind, 
 Hetty ; I only wish you to act cautiously ; you have 
 a fond, warm, loving heart, that leads you to believe 
 all things to be as you would wish them. But it is 
 time I went out ; I see old Socrates has brought the 
 buggy round, and I have some patients I ought to 
 visit" so saying, he rose from his chair and kissed 
 Hetty on the forehead as he passed out of the room 
 
 It was little more than a fortnight after the pre- 
 ceding conversation, that Claude and Hetty's en 
 gagement was publicly announced. It was with 
 hopeful yet half-mistrustful hearts that Walter and 
 Beatrice gave their consent to the marriage. They 
 feared lest Hetty had decided too hastily ; but she 
 had decided, and they could only hope for the best. 
 
 Hetty's money, left her by her father, was, as we 
 have seen before, to revert to her own control in case 
 of her marriage. Beatrice had urged her to have a 
 portion of it, at least, settled upon herself ; but she 
 refused to do so, saying that it would seem to be 
 doubting Claude. 
 
 A very pretty farm had been bought for them by 
 Mr. Melville, only about a mile distant from Oak-
 
 HETTY'S MARRIAGE. 259 
 
 wood, so that Beatrice felt she should still be near 
 her sister to help her in any difficulties and troubles 
 she might encounter on her first commencing house- 
 keeping. A considerable portion of Hetty's money 
 had been laid out in stocking the farm, and all 
 things certainly looked well and promising, and 
 with a little patience and perseverance a comfort- 
 able income might be reckoned upon from the pro- 
 duce of the land. 
 
 It was on a calm, mild day in the latter end of 
 October, that Claude Melville led his loving, trust- 
 ing young bride to the altar. 
 
 How true it is that a wedding-day is often a very, 
 very sorrowful one! Beatrice felt very much at 
 parting from her sister, for though she would still 
 be near her, her home would be that of another, and 
 their intercourse could not be so unrestrained as for- 
 merly. 
 
 After the wedding, the young couple passed some 
 time in traveling about, and the cold, dreary days 
 of winter were fast approaching before they got set- 
 tled at Mow Farm. 
 
 It was rather a bad time of the year for Claude 
 to make trial of a quiet country life, but the in-door 
 amusements of reading and music, and chatting with 
 his pretty wife, together with almost daily expedi- 
 tions either to Springfield or Oak wood, effectually 
 oauished monotony. When the early bright days 
 22
 
 260 GKEATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 of spring came, too, there was abundant scope for 
 his energies in directing and superintending the 
 necessary farming operations, the novelty of which 
 made them attractive to him ; and he really worked 
 so steadily, and appeared so persevering, that Bea- 
 trice and Walter began to hope they had indeed 
 judged too harshly of him. 
 
 The summer crept on with its warm, sunny days, 
 and its out-door pleasures; but with it came, too, 
 dark tidings of sickness, spreading slowly but fear- 
 fully through the neighborhood. The attacks of the 
 destroying fever were not confined to one or two 
 families, but before July came there were few in 
 the parish who had not to mourn the loss of some 
 relative or friend. Walter Grey shrunk not from 
 his duty as a physician from any fear of personal 
 exposure, but was day and night unremitting in 
 his attention to the sick, uniting, as he always en- 
 deavored to do, the spiritual aid of the Christian 
 with the material aid of the physician. 
 
 Beatrice's heart often misgave her on her hus- 
 band's account, and she secretly trembled for his 
 safety, though she was far too noble-minded even to 
 wish him to neglect those placed under his charge 
 for any selfish consideration whatsoever. The dis- 
 ease had not been taken by any of her own house- 
 hold, nor by any one at Mow Farm, so that she was 
 able to see her sister very frequently.
 
 MBS. MELVILLE'S SICKNESS. 261 
 
 One evening, after tea was over at Oakwood, Wal- 
 ter, tired with the labors of the day, was stretched 
 on a mat near the drawing-room window, playing 
 with his little ones, while Beatrice sat near them 
 working, and little Francis was lying near another 
 window, lost in " Sandford and Merton." Looking 
 tip, "Walter perceived Mr. O'Reilly, Mr. Melville's 
 steward, riding up to the garden gate. He started 
 to his feet, for the trouble and sickness all around, 
 made him nervous and anxious. 
 
 This time his fears were not groundless, Mrs. Mel- 
 ville had been taken suddenly ill, with every symp- 
 tom of the dreaded fever, and begged him, if possi- 
 ble, to come to her directly, which he did, only just 
 stopping to tell Beatrice what was the matter. Mrs. 
 Melville was a kind, motherly woman, and one who 
 had been very kind to the Greys since they had 
 settled at Oakwood, and Walter felt almost as anx- 
 ious on her account, as though she had been a near 
 relation. She was a stout, healthy, florid person, 
 too, and he had great fears that it would go hard 
 with her. During the next two or three days, she 
 indeed became alarmingly ill, and Laura was, un- 
 fortunately, a most useless nurse. She had not the 
 patience and quiet endurance so necessary for an 
 attendant m a sick-chamber; but when she saw her 
 poor rnotuer tossing in delirium or moaning with 
 pain, she would become hysterical and nervous, and 
 17
 
 262 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 instead of controlling her feelings, she would yield 
 to them, and claim for herself that attention and 
 sympathy which was so much needed by the suffer- 
 ing invalid. Twice Laura walked over to Oakwood, 
 and Beatrice, from fear of infection, spoke to her 
 from an open window as she stood in the garden 
 below. She could not bear, she said, the restraint 
 of a sick room, it quite overcame her it was not 
 that she did not feel O ! no, her feelings were only 
 too strong; she wished she could be as calm as 
 others. " Poor Papa does most of the nursing," she 
 continued ; " he is so quiet and so little excitable, 
 and, of course, Mamma likes him to be there." 
 
 "But, dear Laura," said Beatrice, "you surely 
 cannot think it right to give way to your feelings in 
 this manner ; why if every one did so, we should 
 have no one left to nurse us when we were sick; we 
 should all learn to consider others before ourselves. 
 Do you not think, Laura, that even now your poor 
 Papa may be wanting your help ; there must be a 
 thousand little things for you to attend to about the 
 house, at such a time as this." 
 
 "Oil don't know anything about housekeeping, 
 and old Rebecca is always in and out of Mamma's 
 room," said Laura, impatiently ; " and really, Mrs. 
 Grey, I felt obliged to run down here and speak to 
 you a bit ; if I've anything on my mind, it does me 
 so much good to tell it to somebody else."
 
 MRS. MELVILLE'S SICKNESS. 263 
 
 Beatrice could scarcely forbear smiling this 
 craving for sympathy formed so essential a part of 
 Laura's character but she said, gently : " Do, 
 Laura, there 's a dear girl, go back and try and 
 content yourself think quietly and calmly what 
 you ought to do, and forget yourself and your feel- 
 ings, if you can ; you will not mind my saying this 
 to you, dear Laura I" 
 
 "O! no," said Laura, "it's very kind of you; 
 only you have no idea how weak my nerves are ! 
 the sight of any suffering affects me fifty times more 
 than it would a cold, apathetic sort of person." 
 
 " Granted, Laura, perhaps it does but the path 
 of duty is the same there may be more obstacles 
 to overcome, but the right line of conduct is equally 
 clear. Good-by, now, for I must go back to the 
 nursery. I hear my little Clement shouting for 
 mamma." 
 
 The next day Walter despaired of Mrs. Melville's 
 life, and he dispatched a messenger to Mow Farm, 
 to tell Claude that if he wished to see his mother 
 alive, he must come over to Springfield at once. 
 
 Although Claude had, from the first, heard of his 
 mother's illness, he had never been to see her self- 
 ishly fearing the infection, and comforting himself 
 with saying that he felt she would soon be better, 
 and that if she was delirious, what was the use of 
 his going. Hetty was surprised and grieved at her
 
 264 GEEATNESS m LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 husband's tmdutiful conduct, but she could not pre 
 vail upon him to change his purpose. His eldest 
 brother, William, had arrived from New York the 
 night before, but up to this time Mrs. Melville 
 had, indeed, been scarcely conscious. This evening, 
 however, the man who brought the pressing message 
 from Walter, said that he believed his Mistress was 
 sensible as is, indeed, generally the case in similar 
 complaints before the last closing scene. 
 
 Claude walked up and down the room in painful 
 uncertainty he did not -set off to see his poor 
 mother, and yet, conscience was pleading too hard 
 to allow of his deciding to stay. 
 
 A cloud rested on his brow, and he preserved a 
 moody silence, which Hetty dared not break, though 
 she sat looking at him with tears in her eyes. She 
 feared to irritate her husband, for she had already 
 found out what he was when provoked. At last the 
 door of the room they were in was softly openud, 
 and Susan, the little dairymaid, looked in, and 
 addressing Hetty in a sorrowful voice, said : 
 
 " If you please, Ma'am, I wanted to tell you that 
 Bessie Markham, (her, you know, Ma'am, as used 
 to live as nurse-girl with Mrs. Grey) died this morn- 
 ing of the fever. Oh ! I feel so bad about it," said 
 the poor girl, wiping her eyes ; " Bessie and me was 
 like sisters oh! if they'd only told me she was 
 sick, I 'd ha' gone to nurse her. It seems so hard
 
 CLAUDE'S MISCONDUCT. 265 
 
 not to have been able to bid her one last good-by." 
 And Susan shut the door gently as she spoke, for 
 she perceived that something was troubling her 
 master and mistress. 
 
 "One last good-by! One last good-by!" mut- 
 tered Claude to himself, and he walked up and down 
 more quickly and uneasily than before ; at last he 
 shook himself, as if throwing off some disagreeable 
 burden, and said : " No, no, I wouldn't go, if it were 
 only on your account, Hetty." 
 
 " Oh ! Claude ! Claude ! for the love of Heaven 
 don't think of me trust in God, and go to your poor 
 mother. Beside, if fear for my safety keeps you, 
 you can do as Walter does when he goes home 
 change your clothes when you come back." 
 
 Claude made no reply he walked up and down 
 still and at last said, in an angry tone: 
 
 " No ! I'm not good enough to die ; so I tell you 
 I'm not going. Bless me! why I couldn't save her 
 life if I did go. I hate infectious diseases, and I 
 have a presentiment that I shall die if I go ; so I'm 
 not going, and there 's an end of it." 
 
 Hetty stole up behind him, and locking both her 
 hands round his arm, and looking up earnestly and 
 tearfully into his face, she said: "Claude, dear 
 husband, you have always been your mother's 
 favorite son oh ! if she should ask for you 1"
 
 266 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 " Get out of the way, will you !" said he, with a 
 curse, shaking her off him with such force as to 
 send her nearly to the other end of the room ; '-I'm 
 not going to be plagued by you or any one else, you 
 little fool. Don't you think I'm the best judge of 
 iny own actions '?" 
 
 Tears streamed from Hetty's eyes ; she made no 
 reply, but went up-stairs to her own room and sat 
 down, leaning her head against the bed. 
 
 " Oh ! I know, I know," thought she, " that it is 
 conscience that makes him angry with me. Poor 
 Claude ! I'm so sorry for him. I know he loves me, 
 but oh ! I wish he would not give way to his temper 
 quite so much !" and she looked at her arm which 
 was slightly cut and bruised from being struck 
 against the edge of a cabinet in the room below, 
 where her husband so roughly repulsed her. " Oh ! 
 if not for my sake alone, yet for the sake of " and 
 she sighed deeply, for she knew that she should 
 shortly become a mother, and that this gave her a 
 double claim on her husband's sympathy and care- 
 ful love. 
 
 That evening Mrs. Melville died, after having in 
 vain called for her Claude her darling boy. Oh ! 
 why was he not there ? 
 
 Laura was comparatively calm and quiet for 
 Walter watched over her like a brother, and per-
 
 '.MRS. MELVILLE'S DEATH. 267 
 
 Buaded her to remain by lier dying mother's bed- 
 side and what a consolation it was to her after- 
 ward to feel that she had done so ! How bitterly 
 Claude's conscience reproached him could only be 
 gathered from his gloomy silence and ill-humor. 
 He forbore all reference to the subject, though he 
 seemed sorry for the way in which he had treated 
 his gentle wife ; and she was but too ready to 
 receive his excuses, and still to trust implicitly in 
 his love and kindness toward her. 
 23
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 u A deep and a mighty shadow 
 Across my heart is thrown, 
 Like the cloud on a summer meadcw, 
 Where the thunder- wind hath blown.' 
 
 BARRY 
 
 " Wish not, dear friends, my pain away 
 
 Wish me a wise and thankful heart ; 
 With God in all my griefs to stay 
 Nor from his lov'd correction start." KZBLE. 
 
 ALAS I for Beatrice the loving husband and father 
 at Oakwood was, erelong, himself stretched on the 
 bed of languishing ; and although with him the sick- 
 ness was not to quench the life-spring, yet it brought 
 many, many weary hours of anxious watching. Bea- 
 trice's heart bled when she saw the husband of her 
 love tossing in pain and fever ; but strength was given 
 her to trust all confidingly to a heavenly Father's 
 love, knowing that all things are in His hands. 
 Her sweet babes were dispatched to Mow Farm, 
 with their nurse, when Walter was first taken ill, 
 for Beatrice knew that they would there be away 
 from the infection, and that, feeling they were safe
 
 WALTER'S SICKNESS. 269 
 
 under Hetty's care, she could devote herself without 
 interruption to the care of her sick husband. 
 
 Little Francis could not be persuaded to leave 
 her, and cried so bitterly when Beatrice wanted to 
 send him with the other children, that she at last 
 allowed him to remain, only prohibiting his entering 
 the sick room. It was now the gentle boy's daily 
 delight to walk over to the farm and be the bearer 
 back of messages of love and tidings for Beatrice, 
 of the safety of her little ones. 
 
 It was wonderful how so young a boy could do so 
 much or be so useful, in a quiet, unpretending way. 
 Before "Walters illness, if the nurse were busy, or 
 went out, Francis could, at all times, be trusted with 
 the charge of little Clement and Mary, playing with 
 them and amusing them by the hour together or, 
 perhaps, telling them simple stories all sitting 
 under the shade of a large tree. There was some- 
 thing essentially unobtrusive in Francis' goodness. 
 He would do all sorts of useful things about the 
 house and garden, in such a quiet way, that those 
 unobservant would scarcely notice they were done. 
 
 These were now his holidays, for it was now the 
 month of August; but he had, of late, been tc 
 a school in the town, as a day-boarder ; and there 
 he was a universal favorite both with the master 
 and the boys.
 
 270 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 Francis had a noble soul : he applied himself to 
 learning, because he loved it, for its own sake, and 
 because he wished to please Walter and Beatrice ; 
 not because he was driven or forced into it yet 
 music was the ruling passion of his heart. In the 
 summer days, during school-recess, there might 
 often be seen, sitting or lying about in the shade 
 of a large tree in the playground, a group of boys 
 listening to Francis' sweet, childish voice as he sang 
 to them all their favorite ballads ; and child though 
 he was, that young, heroic mind would fearlessly 
 rebuke sin, or gently plead with tyranny, and bold, 
 wicked wrong among the boys. Beatrice and Wal- 
 ter rejoiced in their adopted boy, and he was indeed 
 worthy of their love. 
 
 September came, and Walter was rapidly recov- 
 ering his health. Beatrice's little ones had come 
 home, for there was no danger now, and Claude 
 Melville had got a large party of New York 
 bachelor friends down at Mow Farm, for the shooting 
 season ; so that Hetty could no longer be burdened 
 with the charge. 
 
 Beatrice went over two or three times, to see her 
 sister, when Walter could spare her ; but her visits 
 were not very agreeable, for she did not at all like the 
 appearance or manners of Claude's friends. Even 
 Hetty, gentle and uncomplaining as she was, said 
 they were too bold, and coarse, and noisy to sui
 
 CLAUDE'S FEIENDS. 271 
 
 her taste at all, and that she feared they were not 
 very good companions for her husband. Beatrice 
 forbore to press her, for she knew how extremely 
 averse Hetty was to saying anything against 
 Claude anything that might in the slightest de- 
 gree further prejudice her sister against him and 
 Claude was still, in general, kind and loving to- 
 ward his wife ; and she treasured up his words and 
 looks of love, as precious jewels, while she cast his 
 misdeeds behind her back. They could not, how- 
 ever, afford to keep many servants at Mow Farm, 
 and the continual presence of these gentlemen-visit- 
 ors, brought many additional household cares upon 
 her which her strength was, indeed, unable to 
 bear; but she complained not; she thought it 
 pleased Claude to have them, and she was anxious 
 that all the domestic arrangements should be con- 
 ducted so as to be a credit to her as his wife. 
 
 Beatrice, however, saw with concern that she was 
 overtasking her strength, and one morning, when 
 she had driven over to the farm, and brought her 
 sister back to Oak wood, to spend a quiet hour with 
 herself and Walter, she said : 
 
 " Hetty, dear, I think you have too much to do 
 now at home ; you ought to take care of yourself 
 when are those men going to leave ?" 
 
 " Oh 1 1 don't know," she replied, with a gentle 
 sigh; "I don't like to ask Claude, for he will
 
 272 GBEATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 think that I want to get rid of his friends. I only 
 wish they would not stop up so late at night I 
 think that is what tires me so " 
 
 " That is a pity, dearest," said Beatrice ; " how 
 do they amuse themselves ?" 
 
 " "Why," said Hetty, half hesitating, " they have 
 wine, you know and they sing songs and tell 
 stories ; and generally, about nine o'clock, they 
 begin to play cards. I usually go away early, for 
 they sing queer sorts of things, sometimes, that I 
 don't like at all indeed, Claude often makes signs 
 to me to go away, and then I creep up-stairs to bed, 
 and sometimes I lie down and read ; but I cannot 
 sleep or feel easy till Claude comes up, and the 
 house is still and quiet. Oh ! we were so much 
 happier before these people came." 
 
 Beatrice sighed, but she scarcely knew what to 
 say to comfort her sister. 
 
 " Do you see much of Laura, now, dear Bee ?" 
 said Hetty. 
 
 "Well ! I have been over there as often as I could 
 spare the time, lately," replied Beatrice ; "I felt that 
 poor Laura has been greatly in need of sympathy 
 and kindness since her mother's death, with no 
 sister to help her, or be a companion to her. And 
 she has been very little used to the cares of house- 
 keeping ; poor Mrs. Melville was so fond of manag- 
 ing everything herself, that it has spoiled Laura for
 
 KEWS FROM PALM HILL. 273 
 
 taking her place, but I believe she is now really 
 trying in earnest to be practical." 
 
 " It may be a good thing for her, poor girl, to 
 have domestic duties to attend to," said Hetty, " it 
 will make her care less about trifling concerns 
 among the neighbors. Laura is a kind-hearted 
 creature, too, though she sometimes quizzes a lit- 
 tle." 
 
 "Perhaps this has been encouraged in her," said 
 Beatrice ; "I do not think she means unkindly. O ! 
 by-the-by, dear Hetty, I had a letter from Madame 
 de Tremonille this morning ; she says they are all 
 well, and she tells me a good deal of news about our 
 friends there. Mary Gisborne, you know, was mar- 
 ried two years ago to the son of a merchant at St. 
 Thomas. He was ordained for a missionary life, a 
 short time ago, and now he and his wife are in the 
 East Indies, laboring in the cause of Christ. You 
 know both the girls became members of Mr. Camp- 
 bell's church a little while after I left Palm Hill, 
 and they have been a great comfort to Madame 
 de Tremonille as companions. Caroline is still at 
 home, with her father and mother; not less useful, 
 perhaps, than her sister, for Mr. Gisborne employs 
 a good many negroes on his estate, and her mission 
 is among them, attending to their wants both spiri- 
 tual and temporal, and being her parents' right-hand 
 helper in all home-duties.
 
 274 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 "Madame de Tremonille says, that Blanche is 
 growing up a lovely girl ; she is fifteen now, and she 
 says she is as tall as herself. Mr. Campbell is still 
 as unweariedly useful, and still a bachelor indeed, 
 there are sly hints thrown out in the letter, that 
 he is waiting for Blanche. I know, now," said 
 Beatrice, smiling; "how this plan would delight 
 Isabelle, for she would then get her darling child 
 settled near her ; however, time only will show whe- 
 ther her suspicions are correct with respect to the 
 minister's matrimonial intentions. She does not 
 speak much of herself but I fear, from what she 
 says, she is not very strong." 
 
 "I am afraid I must go home now, dear Bee," 
 said Hetty, " I have a good many things to do, and 
 Claude does not like to come home and find me 
 out." 
 
 " Well ! then, if you must go, I '11 drive you over, 
 Hetty," said Walter. 
 
 That evening, after the children were all gone to 
 bed, Walter mentioned his fears to his wife that 
 Claude was beginning to neglect the farm, and that 
 by entirely resigning its management into the hands 
 of others, he was getting cheated in every direction. 
 
 "To say the truth, dear Bee," he continued, "I 
 am feeling uncomfortable about Claude on many 
 accounts. When I took Hetty home, this afternoon, 
 he met us at the door, and, early as it was in the
 
 CLAUDE AND WALTER. 
 
 day, he seemed scarcely sober and he spoke so 
 harshly and crossly to his wife, because she had 
 been out a little while. Poor girl ! 1 saw her color 
 change, and she gave him a sort of look of entreaty 
 as she went into the house. I showed him, by my 
 manner, that I was surprised at his speaking to 
 Hetty in that way, and after a few minutes' further 
 conversation, I ventured to say to him, that I feared 
 Hetty was overtasking her strength, and that his 
 having so many visitors in the house, must cause 
 her a great many additional domestic troubles. He 
 looked rather sulky when I said this, and replied : 
 'Well! she'll have the house quiet enough soon; 
 my friends are going away the day after to-morrow, 
 and I intend going with them to New York, for a 
 few days.'" 
 
 " ' Why ! you surely wouldn't think of leaving 
 your wife here all alone, would you?' I said. 'That 
 doesn't seem kind ; and your farm, too, will not get 
 along very well with the master out, particularly 
 just now, when all the crops are coming in '" 
 
 " ' Oh ! bother it ! don't talk to me,' he replied, 
 4 1 'm not going to make myself a slave to my wife 
 or my farm, either. The crops will all be got in safe 
 enough by the men ; and Hetty, I dare say, won't 
 miss me much for a week or so.' " 
 
 " I told him I was sure she would be far happier 
 if he remained at home ; but he did not seem to like
 
 276 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 to discuss the subject, so we parted. I had hoped, 
 dear Bee, to have induced him to come here oftener, 
 and also to be more sociable with his father and 
 Laura, for I am sure the society of his old compan- 
 ions is not likely to do him any good." 
 
 It was a few mornings after the above conversa- 
 tion. Beatrice was busy, making some arrange- 
 ments in her store-closet her two little ones being 
 out in the garden with their nurse when she heard 
 footsteps in the room behind her, and turning she 
 saw her sister standing there, with tears in her eyes. 
 Beatrice threw her arms round her neck, and kissed 
 her, begging her to tell her what was the matter. 
 
 " O ! he 's gone ! Claude is gone to New York, 
 dear Bee. I do feel so lonely and unhappy. He 
 might have stayed with me a little longer ! Those 
 horrid men coaxed him away, or I know he wouldn't 
 have gone" and Hetty leaned her head on Bea- 
 trice's shoulder, and wept bitterly. After a time 
 she said : 
 
 41 It was only the night before last, that he first 
 mentioned to me that he was goino 1 and I bested 
 
 O t55 SO 
 
 and prayed him not to leave me, (he never men- 
 tioned my going too, wasn't that odd ?) and he 
 almost promised me that he would stay at home 
 but the next day, when he began to tell his friends
 
 CLAUDE'S DEPARTURE. 277 
 
 that ho thought he should change his mind and not 
 go, they laughed at him, and told him he was under 
 4 petticoat government' wasn't that a shame ? and 
 at last they persuaded the poor fellow to go." 
 
 " I feel so very sorry for you, dear Hetty," said 
 her sister, sighing ; "I do indeed pity you from the 
 bottom of my heart, but you must only bear up 
 against the trial now, as well as you can. You had 
 better come over and stay with us till Claude comes 
 back. Do you will not feel so lonely then." 
 
 "O, no! I am afraid that would not do at all, 
 dear Bee^else you know how much I should like it. 
 The people at the farm would then have nobody at 
 all left to look after them ; and though I cannot do 
 much, yet it would not be right to leave the place, 
 quite to itself. I wish so much that you would let 
 Francis come home from school for a week, and stay 
 with me. I do not think Claude can be gone longer 
 than that." 
 
 "Certainly, dear, Francis shall come. He gets 
 on so well with his lessons, that a week's holiday 
 will not put him back much. He 's a dear fellow, 
 and the most companionable boy I ever saw. I am 
 glad you thought of asking for him, Hetty. If you 
 will stay now, and spend this afternoon with me, 
 when Francis comes home from school in the after- 
 noon, I can soon put up his clothes, and drive you 
 18
 
 278 GBEATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 both back to the farm. Cheer up, dear Hetty ; I 
 dare say Claude will soon be back." 
 
 But the days wore slowly away, and Claude was 
 not * o very soon back^ either one, two, three 
 tedious weeks elapsed , and he came not. Hetty's 
 fond heart sank within her, and she became low- 
 spirited and melancholy. Since Claude had been 
 in New York, he had several times drawn large 
 sums of money from the bank at Hartford, where 
 their little all was deposited ; and now th^se draw- 
 ings increased alarmingly, and there was little pros- 
 pect of sufficient being left for the necessary autumn 
 and spring farming operations. Walter was very, 
 very uneasy on Hetty's account. He knew full well 
 that all this profuse expenditure could only be ac- 
 counted for by Claude's having taken to his old habit 
 of gambling, and he at last determined to write to 
 his father in New York, and beg him to try and find 
 out Claude, and induce him, if possible, to come home 
 immediately. This plan happily proved a successful 
 one for when the aged minister repaired to the hotel 
 where Claude stayed, and sought and obtained 
 a private interview with him, he pleaded with 
 him so earnestly, and yet so gently and lovingly 
 to return to his young wife and his home, that
 
 HETTY'S GBIEF. 279 
 
 Claude, in whom every kindly impulse was not 
 yet dead, determined to set off at once, without 
 daring to trust himself again among his so-called 
 "friends." 
 
 The meeting almost overcame poor Hetty. She 
 was too glad to see her husband again to chide him 
 for his long absence ; and indeed, Claude, though 
 at times gloomy and reserved, and even refraining 
 from hinting at the cause of his protracted absence, 
 yet seemed, in some measure, touched by Hetty's 
 gentle and devoted affection, and for a time she had 
 no cause of complaint. Indeed, she was one of 
 those happy-minded people who always make the 
 best of everything, and seeing her husband at home 
 and showing toward her something of his former 
 attention and kindness, she thought not of reproach- 
 ing him for the past, or of needlessly anticipating 
 trouble for the future. 
 
 It was November when Claude came back, and 
 merry Christmas was soon with them that season 
 of the year which, of all others, seems to shed joy 
 and gladness round the domestic hearth. Santa 
 Glaus was liberal in his gifts to little Clement, and 
 Mary, and Francis ; and at Mow Farm ho brought 
 a precious little gift to Hetty and Claude, in the 
 form of a sweet little blue-eyed daughter. 
 
 The acquisition of this little treasure seemed, for 
 a time, to melt Claude's heart into renewed kind-
 
 280 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 ness toward Hetty ; but as spring advanced, farm - 
 affairs began to worry him and this because cash 
 was getting short, and he knew that he had brought 
 all the inconvenience upon himself, by his losses at 
 the gambling-table. When a little had been ex- 
 pended in sowing spring-crops, there was scarcely 
 enough left to keep the house ; and Claude began 
 to get into his reserved, gloomy ways again and 
 alas ! what was worse than all, he would seek more 
 and more, to drown care and thought in drink. 
 This sad habit seemed now to grow upon him, and 
 it filled Hetty's heart with dismay. It was in vain 
 that she remonstrated, wept, and entreated: when 
 the demon of strong drink has taken hold of a man, 
 it is very, very difficult to shake off its fiendish 
 chains. In general, after any particular excess, 
 Claude would show some remorse, and promise to 
 reform but when the temptation came, he fell. 
 
 It was one day in the latter end of April nature 
 was bursting all afresh into life, and everything in 
 the outer world looked so heart-cheering and lovely, 
 that it seemed more incongruous than ever, for man 
 to lie debased in sin and misery, deaf to the sweet 
 voices around him and at Mow Farm, the valleys 
 and uplands were green with fresh spring verdure : 
 snow-white lambs were dotted over the pastures ; 
 the tall trees were gently opening their leaves, to 
 afford that shade which would soon be so much
 
 HETTY'S GEIEF. . 283 
 
 needed, and the sweet spring flowers were merrily 
 lifting up their heads, under every hedgerow. 
 
 And yet in the dwelling-house, happiness reigned 
 not; for though Hetty was sitting in the comfort- 
 able parlor, with her lovely babe on her knee, tears 
 were fast falling from her eyes, and bedewing its 
 rosy face. Claude was sitting on a chair near the 
 window, lazily rocking backward and forward 
 smoking a cigar, and looking very moody and cross. 
 
 " Why, I don't see what good your going away 
 now could possibly do, dear Claude," said his wife 
 gently 
 
 "Well, good, or no good, I won't stop here," 
 said he; "what's the use of it? we've no money, 
 and we can't live on air till the crops are ripe and 
 there 's not much of them either." 
 
 " I dare say your father would lend you a little 
 money till the fall, love and you know we could 
 live very economically and sparingly there is a 
 little money, too, coming in every week, for milk, 
 and butter and eggs." 
 
 " Well, I 'm not going to borrow money of my 
 father," said Claude ; " I hate to be dependent and 
 beside I 'm tired of this kind of life ; I think New 
 York would suit me better ; at anyrate, I'll go 
 there, and see if there is anything likely to turn up. 
 I don't think farming is at all in my line after all 
 it 's too monotonous."
 
 282 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 " I never feel it monotonous, dear Clande, when 
 we are together ; and then we have so many friends 
 near here " 
 
 " Pshaw ! it's all very well for a woman ; but I 
 want more excitement. But don't you worry your- 
 self about me I'll be back before long and you've 
 got the baby to amuse you now, too " 
 
 "Oh! Claude!" said Hetty, and the tears rolled 
 afresh down her cheek as she spoke, "I know baby 
 is a little darling ; but I know, I know I shall be 
 unhappy unless its papa is with me to love it.' 
 
 "Nonsense, Hetty I see I must train you to 
 accustom yourself to be happy without me. I like 
 to come and go as I please. I have a free spirit, and 
 freedom I will have." And saying these words, 
 Claude walked out of the room and banged the door 
 after him. 
 
 Oh ! Claude, Claude ! don't you know that your 
 idea of freedom is but the indulgence of gross self- 
 ishness ! 
 
 The following day Claude started for New York, 
 taking with him nearly all the ready money ; and 
 Hetty was once more left alone at the farm. 
 
 Her own little one increased daily in loveliness 
 and strength, and Beatrice's children often came 
 over to spend a day with their aunt at the farm, 
 which was one of their greatest treats, and a source
 
 HETTY'S GBIEF. 283 
 
 of unbounded delight ; for though Oak wood was a 
 pretty place to run about in, yet the farm possessed 
 unfailing and boundless attraction, with its cattle, 
 and sheep, and poultry, and beehives, and rabbits, 
 and other delights too many to enumerate. When 
 playing with the little ones, and going excursions 
 with Francis and Clement to favorite nooks and 
 sequestered dells, Hetty would almost, for a time, 
 forget her own anxieties and troubles; but Claude's 
 continued absence lay heavy at her heart. Three 
 weeks slipped away : she heard from him once or 
 twice, but his accounts of himself and his doings were 
 very vague. She wrote to him herself frequently, 
 and strove, by the affection expressed in her letters, 
 and by the accounts she gave of their pleasant home, 
 and their little Violet's growing intelligence, to win 
 him to return. But alas! Claude was among those, 
 the spell of whose presence was more potent than 
 his wife's gentle attractions. 
 
 It is true, that when he received Hetty's letters, 
 he would make a resolve within himself to go home 
 immediately ; but ere he had carried that resolution 
 into effect, he was enticed away again, by some of 
 his wild companions, into some gay scene of plea- 
 sure or dissipation, and home, and those he ought 
 to have loved so dearly, were forgotten. 
 
 Laura and Mrs. Melville were very kind to Hetty 
 
 during her husband's absence, and frequently came 
 24
 
 284 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 over to see her. The old gentleman placed a sum 
 of money in his daughter-in-law's hands, saying that 
 it was a present for his little grandchild. Hetty 
 understood, and felt the delicacy of the intention 
 and the help came not inopportunely, for Claude 
 had sent her no means, and there was no money left 
 in the bank. Hetty strove to appear cheerful, but 
 she drooped and drooped, till she became perfectly 
 ill and haggard. She could not but be uneasy about 
 Claude. Old Mr. Grey was away from New York 
 attending some meeting of the Presbytery in one of 
 the Western States, and there was no one to look 
 for her husband and remonstrate with him as before. 
 One evening, however, when Walter and Beatrice 
 had walked over from Oakwood, the former, seeing 
 his sister-in-law's unhappiness, offered to go himself 
 to New York and try to bring Claude home, or at 
 least, to see what he intended to do for it was im- 
 possible to allow matters to go on as they were. 
 
 Hetty thanked him, poor thing 1 with eagerness 
 and warmth ; and he set off the following day with 
 many anxious prayers on the part of the anxious 
 wife, whose truant husband he was in search of.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 " O ! melancholy, linger here awhile I 
 
 ! music, music, breathe despondingly ! 
 ! echo, echo, from some somber isle 
 Unknown, lethean, sigh to us O, sigh 1" KEATS. 
 
 " Be still, sad heart ! and cease repining, 
 Behind the clouds is the sun still shining ; 
 Thy fate is the common fate of all, 
 Into each life some rain must fall, 
 
 Some days must be dark and dreary." 
 
 LONGPELLOW. 
 
 THE shades of evening have fallen thickly around 
 the city of New York, but in the streets the gloom 
 is dispelled by thousands of brilliant lamps. Be- 
 neath the light of these lamps, too, thousands are 
 hurrying along all bent, more or less eagerly, on 
 some purpose, good or bad. 
 
 If we turn aside from this bustling throng, and 
 go up that flight of steps on the left-hand side of 
 that small alley, we shall come to a room, the en- 
 trance to which is a green baize door, studded with 
 brass nails. Entering this room, we hear the voices 
 of men in angry altercation. Let us not turn aside 
 
 disgusted, as we well might be, for among those 
 
 (285)
 
 286 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 voices, methinks there are some that strike familiarb 
 on the ear. Let us look in. 
 
 "How dare you interfere, sir!" shouted a man. 
 in a loud, angry tone of voice, as he leaned across the 
 table where he and another man had been playing 
 some game of chance. " I say again, sir, who asked 
 you to come and interfere with our game ?" 
 
 The person whom he addressed, was a tall, gentle- 
 manly, and very prepossessing-looking young man. 
 whose quiet demeanor and gentlemanly bearing, 
 seemed to bespeak him no frequenter of such haunts 
 as that we see him in at present. This was, as our 
 readers may guess, Walter Grey, who now stood with 
 his hand on Claude Melville's shoulder, earnestly 
 and affectionately entreating him to leave off play- 
 ing, and come home with him to old Mr. Grey's 
 house in street. 
 
 Claude was flushed and excited with play, for he 
 had, this evening, happened to win a considerable 
 sum of money from his opponent and it was the 
 latter who was now angrily addressing Walter, en- 
 raged at the game being interfered with, particu- 
 larly at the present crisis, when the luck was against 
 him. 
 
 'You're a mean fellow, Melville, to leave off 
 playing just now, after you 've been winning from
 
 THE GAMBLING SALOON. 287 
 
 me ; at least, give me a chance of winning it back 
 again. Come on !" 
 
 Claude hesitated, but "Walter turned to the 
 speaker, and said: 
 
 " You need not mind about the money, sir, I 
 know Mr. Melville will not think of insisting on its 
 being paid, if you do not think it fair ; but he is 
 obliged to leave here now, his presence being posi- 
 tively required elsewhere." 
 
 "Well! then, we'll cry quits, Downing," said 
 Claude, who stood by half angry, and half ashamed ; 
 but yet, for the time, so much under Walter's influ- 
 ence as to rely upon him for assistance and advice. 
 
 "Indeed, I'll do no such thing!" said the other 
 man, angrily ; " fair play's fair play. Come on now, 
 and let's have it out O! you won't, won't you!" 
 said he, in tones of increasing anger, as he saw 
 Walter take Claude's arm to lead him away; "then, 
 I can tell you, that I think you 're a couple of mean 
 sneaks, and that it's all a plot, your going away 
 at all. Take that for your pains !" and firing a 
 revolver as he spoke, the report of the piece sounded 
 through the gambling-saloon. 
 
 Walter fell forward, though the shot had been 
 intended for Claude. 
 
 The ball had entered below the right shoulder 
 and passed out between the ribs. Claude gave a 
 cry of horror and agony, and threw himself on his
 
 288 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS 
 
 knees by his brother-in-law, deadly pale. A crowd 
 soon collected round them, and the wounded man 
 was gently carried on a litter to his father's house. 
 
 Claude saw him to the door, and then ran as 
 quickly as possible for a surgeon, whom he dis- 
 patched to attend on the patient, and then slunk 
 away himself, ashamed to be seen by any one he 
 knew, for he felt that he had, though inadvertently, 
 it is true, been the cause of the accident. As we 
 have before said, old Mr. Grey was from home. 
 The agonizing terror and fear of his poor wife, when 
 she saw her only son brought to her door, late at 
 night, desperately wounded, and escorted only by a 
 low mob, may better be imagined than described. 
 She knew, however, that Walter had been in search 
 of Claude Melville, and she intuitively suspected 
 that the accident had some connection with him. 
 
 From the men who carried him, however, she 
 could learn nothing but a very confused account; 
 and indeed there was not much time for delay the 
 care of the sufferer claiming her attention too en- 
 tirely to admit of further inquiry. 
 
 "Walter had swooned as they were bringing him 
 along the street, and it was not till after he had been 
 laid on his mother's bed, and the surgeon had 
 arrived, that he recovered his consciousness. 
 
 The surgeon gave it as his opinion that there was 
 no immediate danger to be apprehended from the
 
 WALTER'S WOUND. 289 
 
 wound, but old Mrs. Grey resolved on instantly 
 dispatching a messenger for Beatrice, telling her 
 that her husband had tnet with an accident, but that 
 she must not frighten herself unnecessarily, for that 
 indeed there seemed no cause for alarm. No men- 
 tion was made of Claude Melville in the note, for 
 of him Mrs. Grey knew nothing. 
 
 When did a loving wife, in spite of all warnings 
 to the contrary, ever receive tidings of an accident 
 having happened to a beloved husband, without 
 magnifying the danger to the utmost in her own 
 mind, and without being ready to believe the worst 
 from the earliest moment ? Beatrice nearly fainted 
 when she first received the note. She fancied she 
 should never again see Walter alive, but grief de- 
 prived her not of the power of action, and with a 
 death-like pallor on her countenance, she moved 
 around the house to give the necessary orders pre- 
 vious to her departure for New York. 
 
 She at first concluded not to let Hetty know what 
 she had heard, but considering, afterward, that her 
 sister would be sure to find out she was from home, 
 she dispatched Francis to the farm with a note, 
 stating what she had heard from her mother-in-law, 
 and begging Hetty to come over to Oakwood as 
 often as she could, so as to keep an eye on the child- 
 ren and household. 
 
 When Beatrice arrived in New York, Walter was
 
 290 QEEATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 already considerably better; and although yet ex- 
 ceedingly weak, it was not many days before he was 
 able to be moved, by easy stages, to his own home. 
 Of Claude, however, alas ! no news could be gained 
 before they left, and Beatrice, unhappy though she 
 was about her own husband, was not unmindful of 
 her sister's trouble, and really dreaded meeting her 
 on their return, without having some tidings to 
 communicate respecting Claude. 
 
 O ! with what a death-like, agonized expression 
 of countenance did poor Hetty receive her sister and 
 "Walter, as she stood in the hall at Oakwood await- 
 ing their arrival. Too much overcome to speak, 
 or even to weep, she stood clasping her baby in her 
 arms, with her lips parted, as if in mute suppli- 
 cation, and yet not daring to venture an inquiry. 
 She remained thus, intently gazing, while Socrates 
 and another servant lifted Walter from the carriage 
 and bore him gently up-stairs. She could only press 
 Beatrice's hand, and say, in an agonized whisper : 
 
 "O! Bee, Bee, do tell me, for mercy's sake, 
 where Claude is I O ! my husband, my husband." 
 
 " I know not, dear Hetty, I know not would to 
 God I did," was her sisters reply. 
 
 " Once more, dear Bee, only tell me Tie diJ. not 
 do this ; only tell me he did not !" 
 
 " No, indeed, dear Hetty, Walter says this was 
 an accident," said Beatrice ; " do not, dear sister,
 
 WALTER'S WOUND. 291 
 
 distress yourself thus. Walter is thought to be ont 
 of danger, and I dare say Claude will soon be 
 home, for Walter saw him, and told him how anx- 
 ious you were for his coming." 
 
 Hetty sank down on a chair. She breathed more 
 freely, and refreshing tears rolled down her cheeks. 
 
 " Do not delay here, dear Bee, I am better now, 
 thank God ; but oh ! to think that I should have 
 been the cause of Walter's going. Yet I am so 
 thankful to learn that it was not Claude who hurt 
 him. O ! I long to hear all about it from him, when 
 he is strong enough to tell me." 
 
 Beatrice again kissed her sister, and then ran up- 
 stairs to her sick husband, who, indeed, now claimed 
 all her care and attention. 
 
 Poor Hetty felt that she could delay no longer at 
 Oakwood, for might not Claude return at any 
 moment ? 
 
 As she went along, under the green hedgerows 
 and through the meadows, toward the farm, the 
 summer air blew sweetly and pleasantly upon her, 
 and her little Violet was smiling and cooing in 
 her arms: but what a heavy heart had that young 
 mother! what would she not have given to know 
 where her husband was? Why was he not with 
 her to enjoy this pleasant summer's eve ? oh, why ! 
 
 She thought the rooms at home looked even more 
 desolate than usual, that evening ; and she felt 
 25
 
 2'J3 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 quite oppressed with a sense of utter loneliness. 
 How many things about the homestead looked as if 
 they wanted setting in order and she had no 
 money to pay for the necessary labor. The two or 
 three farm-servants who had been kept on, answered 
 her, she thought, less respectfully than usual now, 
 and she fancied it was because they knew she was 
 poor. Having undressed her little one, and put 
 her to sleep, for she had been obliged to dismiss her 
 nurse, (the wages being an expense she was quite 
 unable to meet) she fetched a candle and sat down 
 in her room by little Violet's cot, and opened her 
 Bible to read. The first words which met her eyes 
 were these : " Thou art our refuge and strength, a 
 very present help in time of trouble" Oh ! sweet 
 and blessed promise for the afflicted ! Tears came 
 into Hetty's eyes as she read them, and kneeling 
 down, she prayed, oh ! how earnestly, that the Lord 
 would indeed be her help in this her trouble, and 
 grant that she might receive some tidings of him 
 whom she still loved so fondly. 
 
 Scarcely had she risen from her knees, when she 
 heard horse's hoofs rattling up the road to the 
 house. Is it ? can it be Claude ! thought she ; and 
 as the idea thrilled through her, it almost deprived 
 her of the power of action she was so afraid lest 
 it might not indeed be he.
 
 CLAUDE'S KETURN. 293 
 
 Another minute, and there was a quick knock at 
 the door. She rushed down the stairs, for she 
 would not that any one else should be the first to 
 receive him, if it were indeed Claude. 
 
 In another moment, she was in her husband's 
 arms. 
 
 "Oh! Claude, Claude! how could you stay from 
 me so long? Thank God you're come at last!" 
 was all she could utter. 
 
 " Oh wife ! oh Hetty ! I'm a miserable man ; 
 I don't deserve to be welcomed in this man- 
 ner" 
 
 Another kiss was his wife's only reply, and then 
 taking him by the hand, she led him gently up- 
 stairs, to the room where their sleeping infant lay. 
 
 Claude stooped down and kissed little Violet, and 
 a shade passed over his countenance, and his con- 
 science twinged sharply as he did so, for he felt 
 what an attraction home ought to have been to him. 
 
 Hetty now lit another candle, and then only did 
 she observe how very miserable her husband's ap- 
 pearance was. 
 
 He looked haggard and thin, and his hand shook 
 from the effects of the intemperate life he had been 
 leading. He looked ten years older than when she 
 saw him last! 
 
 Turning now to his wife, and looking her earn- 
 estly in the face, Claude said : 
 19
 
 294 GBEATXESS IN LITTLE THTXGS. 
 
 if 
 
 "Hetty, if you've any pity for me, only tell me 
 good news of Walter. What of him ? Is he alive 
 jet ? for God's sake don't tell me he's not !" 
 
 " He is ! he is ! dear Claude ; Beatrice says he is 
 much better: he came down from New York to 
 Oak wood, this afternoon and surely if he had been 
 so very ill, he could not have been moved." 
 
 " I did not do it, Hetty I did not do it," said 
 Claude, in a tone of misery, as he sat down on a 
 chair, and covered his face with his hands ; "God 
 knows I wouldn't have injured a hair of his head ! 
 it was that rascal Downing." Oh ! that I had never 
 met him ! "I shall never be able to look Beatrice 
 in the face again she will think all was my fault " 
 
 " O ! indeed, indeed, Claude ! you do my sister 
 injustice. I am sure she is the very last person to 
 harbor you any ill-will; so pray do not think 
 that!" 
 
 *' O ! what an unhappy brute I am !" groaned 
 Claude, "I wish I'd never left home. You don't 
 know what I've suffered during the last two or 
 three days, thinking that Walter might be dead! I 
 have been an infatuated, foolish wretch !" 
 * "Dear husband, you are at home now let us 
 forget the past. I am sure I will never reproach 
 you with it and they all your father, and Laura, 
 and Walter, too, will be so glad to hear you are 
 come!"
 
 CLAUDE'S RETURN. 295 
 
 "Well! then, I'm determined they shan't know 
 it yet," said Claude, almost fiercely; "1 am not in 
 the humor to brook reproaches from any one my 
 own are as much as I can bear ! Don't you say a 
 word about my being here till I tell you. I 'm not 
 well, and I want to stop quietly with you ; and I 'm 
 not going to be plagued with visits from any one." 
 
 " My poor, poor Claude !" said Hetty, and lean- 
 ing over her husband, from behind his chair, she 
 laid her hand on his head and kissed his forehead 
 a tear falling from her eye and dropping on to his 
 cheek as she did so. * 
 
 Claude started" Hetty, don't cry ! I can't bear 
 it indeed I can't! I'm not good enough to be 
 loved by you ! I feel I am not!" 
 
 "Claude, love! do not talk so nothing can 
 change my love you are always my own dear hus- 
 band I" 
 
 " God forgive me, wife, for all my unkindness 
 toward you oh ! how undeserved has it been 1"
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 " At every motion of our breath, 
 life trembles on the brink of death ; 
 A toper's flame, that upward turns, 
 While downward to the dust it burns." 
 
 MONTGOMERY. 
 41 Affliction then is ours, 
 
 We are the trees whom shaking fastens more ; 
 While blust'ring winds destroy the wanton bowers, 
 And ruffle all their curious knots and store. 
 My God 1 so temper joy and woe, 
 That thy bright beams may tame thy bow." 
 
 GEORGE HZBBEET. 
 
 IT was with a comparatively light heart, that 
 Hetty descended the staircase the following morn- 
 ing, leaving Claude, wearied with want of rest, 
 lying fast asleep. Happy she could not exactly be, 
 for he looked both ill and wretched, and she was 
 anxious, too, about Walter ; but yet, thankfulness for 
 her husband's return, was her predominant feeling, 
 and with her usual sanguineness of disposition, the 
 hope of bright future days flitted through her mind. 
 
 It was not very early much later, indeed, than 
 her usual hour of rising ; but Claude looked so worn 
 out, that she had feared disturbing him earlier 
 
 (296)
 
 MRS. GRANT. 297 
 
 Having now dressed little Yiolet in another room, 
 she came softly down stairs, and depositing her little 
 charge on a large, soft mat in the breakfast-room, 
 she began to arrange cups and saucers, and make 
 other preparations for the morning meal. 
 
 While she was thus engaged, Susan, the dairy- 
 maid, came into the room and said : " If you please, 
 Ma'am, Mrs. Grey's cook was over this morning 
 afore seven o'clock for them three pounds of butter 
 we promised her. She said she heard that Mr. 
 Grey was mighty weak to-day ; that he hadn't slept 
 very well last night. I told her as how Mr. Melville 
 came home last night, tho' I didn't know that 
 myself till this morning, when old Dennis told me 
 that Mr. Melville left the horse with him at the 
 stable." 
 
 It 's of no use Claude's thinking to hide his hav- 
 ing come home then, thought Hetty ; I hope he will 
 not be angry, at anyrate it cannot be helped. 
 
 It was about noon the same day the first day of 
 Claude's return when two figures, those of an 
 elderly lady and a little boy, were seen approaching 
 the farm. 
 
 Hetty was standing at the window with Claude, 
 when she suddenly exclaimed : 
 
 " Why, Claude, that looks very much like Aunt 
 Louisa coming up the hill with little Clement 1 why 
 where can she have sprung from ?"
 
 298 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 "Wherever it may be, I shan't stay to encounter 
 her," said Claude; "make any excuse you like for 
 me, Hetty. A lecture from her is what I never 
 could stand in my best days." So saying, he went 
 quickly up-stairs, and locked himself into his room. 
 
 It was indeed Mrs. Grant, who had arrived from 
 New York only that morning. She had heard of 
 Walter's accident from his mother, and she had im- 
 mediately set off for Oak wood, to see if she could 
 be of any service to Beatrice in the nursing line. 
 
 Though still occasionally somewhat caustic and 
 Bevere, time had blunted some of the sharp edges 
 in her character, and she could really be a most 
 useful person when she chose. She had taken a 
 great fancy to Beatrice's little ones, who, she said, 
 were almost the only well brought up children she 
 knew ; so that now her appearance at Oakwood was 
 hailed by Beatrice with pleasure, for she knew that 
 Aunt Louisa might safely be intrusted with nursery 
 cares, and Walter was now so ill as to claim all her 
 own time and attention. 
 
 The tidings of Claude's arrival, conveyed to Oak- 
 wood by the cook that morning, had filled both Bea- 
 trice and her husband with thankfulness, and Aunt 
 Louisa had not been long in the house before Bea- 
 trice begged her to go over to the farm, and bring 
 some tidings both of Claude and Hetty. 
 
 " Well, Hetty, love, so you see I J ve come down to
 
 MKS. GKANT. 299 
 
 take care of you all," exclaimed Mrs. Grant, as she en- 
 tered the room. " Such doings ! dear me, dear me !" 
 
 " I am sure dear Bee must be very glad to see 
 you, Aunt," said Hetty, kissing her affectionately ; 
 "poor thing! this is indeed a trial for her. Cle- 
 ment, love, come and kiss Aunt Hetty ! There, sit 
 on my knee ; there 's room for you now, for little 
 Violet is fast asleep." 
 
 " Where 's uncle Claude, Aunty ? Mamma said 
 he was come home ! You won't be unhappy any 
 more now, will you ?" 
 
 Hetty kissed the little fellow's rosy cheek, and 
 said, in a hesitating voice, (for she felt that her 
 aunt's eyes were fixed upon her) : 
 
 " Uncle Claude is not very well to-day, Clemmy ; 
 he is up-stairs, but you shall see him another time. 
 Suppose you go out and feed the rabbits ? you may 
 if you like ; and ask Susan to gather you some let- 
 tuce I think she is in the kitchen." 
 
 "Do tell me what you think of Walter, Aunt?" said 
 Hetty, when Clement had left the room ; " we did 
 oot hear a very good account of him this morning I" 
 
 " Well, it's my opinion that he won't be well for 
 a long time," said Mrs. Grant, shortly ; "no wonder, 
 poor fellow ! with that wound it 's a mercy his life 
 was spared." 
 
 " It is indeed, Aunt, we have all great cause foi 
 thankfulness," said Hetty, gently.
 
 300 GllEATNESS IN LlTTLE 
 
 'Tray, why does your husband shut himself up, 
 and not come down to see me ? I came over hero 
 on purpose to see how you hoth were, and it will 
 Beem very queer, when I go back, to say that I have 
 not seen Claude." 
 
 " I am afraid you must excuse him, Aunt. I am 
 very sorry ; poor fellow 1 he has been greatly cut up 
 about that affair of poor dear "Walter's getting 
 hurt." 
 
 "Poor fellow , indeed i I 'm sure I don't pity 
 him ; what business had he to be away at all ? The 
 way he's been going on lately, I 'm sure, he deserves 
 to be worried, and well punished too." 
 
 "Please, please, Aunt, don't speak in that way," 
 said Hetty, in a tone of distress ; "we cannot recall 
 the past, and I cannot bear to hear any one talk 
 against him. I feel too glad to have him safe home 
 again." 
 
 "Ah! indeed!" said her aunt, shaking her head, 
 " little comfort he 's been to you. He ought to be 
 ashamed of himself, that 's what I know. But you 
 knew what he was before you married him, child, 
 BO you 've brought it on yourself." 
 
 " Aunt Louisa !" said Hetty, and she colored 
 with anger as she spoke, " I must request of you not 
 to speak in that way. I won't listen to it ! What- 
 ever Claude may have been, ur whatever he has 
 done, he is my husband, whom I dearly love ; and
 
 LITTLE VIOLET. SOI 
 
 I will suffer no one to abuse him before my face ; 
 " und she rose as she spoke, and walked over to the 
 cot to take up her baby, who was now awake " 
 
 " Well, well, child ! come, don't be offended. I 
 only told you what I thought ; and if you don't like 
 to hear it, why we '11 change the subject : here at 
 least, is something we can agree about," and Mrs. 
 Grant held out her arms for little Yiolet to come to 
 her. " What a lovely baby ; why it 's not much 
 like you, Hetty ; it 's more like what Beatrice was 
 when a child : like your mother indeed : yes, she's 
 the image of your poor mother the same soft gray- 
 blue eyes " 
 
 " I 'm so glad of that," said Hetty ; " and I should 
 wish her to be as like dear Bee as possible ; I only 
 hope she may be as good. She is a little darling 
 now, and a great amusement to me " 
 
 "By-the-by, my dear," said her aunt, "I hear 
 Laura Melville is going to be married ; to whom 
 is it?" 
 
 " To a friend of her brother William's," replied 
 Hetty; "another New York barrister a Mr. 
 Herbert. I met him at Springfield once or twice, 
 last year, and again about three months ago ; he 
 seemed a gentlemanly, well-informed man, but I 
 nave not seen much of him. Indeed, what I have 
 heard about him, has been principally from Laura, 
 who often comes over here to sit with me in the
 
 302 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 morning, when her father is busy in his library or 
 overlooking the estate " 
 
 " How do Laura and her father get on together, 
 now ?" 
 
 " Oh ! very well indeed ; she has become his 
 constant companion since her poor mother's death, 
 and it seems her principal aim to make him happy, 
 and to endeavor to compensate, as much as possible, 
 for the great loss he has sustained. He will miss 
 her sadly, poor man : I really can hardly think what 
 he will do without her, when she is married. 
 Laura is not comfortable about it herself, and the 
 wedding has, in consequence, been indefinitely 
 postponed, till some plan can be decided upon. 
 Old Mrs. Grey, (Walter's mother, you know), is a 
 relation of theirs ; and she has a widowed sister, 
 who will probably stay with him part of the time ; 
 but, I believe, nothing is settled yet. Let me take 
 baby, Aunt ; she is too heavy for you." 
 
 " Not at all, my dear ; but let us go into the 
 garden, and look for Clement; I must be going 
 back to Oakwood, for Beatrice may want me. 
 How ever are you going to manage about this farm, 
 Hetty ?" continued Mrs. Grant, as they went down 
 the path leading to the rabbit-hutches ; "why it 
 looks shamefully neglected, and the garden is one 
 mass of weeds 1" 
 
 Hetty winced, but replied :
 
 A FBIEND m NEED. 303 
 
 " I cannot tell, indeed, Aunt ; I hope everything 
 will be set to rights, now Claude is come " 
 
 "Tut! set to rights, indeed," muttered Mrs. 
 Grant ; " they ought never to have got in this state 
 Well, well, my dear, I know the state of things, as 
 well as you can tell me. Look here now, Hetty, I 
 thought this hundred dollars might be useful to you 
 just now, so I brought it as a little present from 
 me, if you will accept it. Come now, you must 
 not refuse me. Of what nse is it to an old woman 
 like me! Beside, my dear, if you began asking 
 for money just now, for household necessaries, who 
 knows but what that that but that Claude might 
 be off to New York again." 
 
 " Aunt Louisa," said Hetty, as she threw her 
 arms round her neck, and kissed her warmly, " this 
 is indeed, kind and thoughtful of you. I shall 
 make no scruples of false delicacy in accepting it. 
 God bless you, Aunt ' a friend in need is a friend 
 indeed.' " 
 
 It was not that Walter Grey was very ill no, 
 not very ill ; that is to say, there were no symptoms 
 which might cause alarm, even in the breast of an 
 anxious wife ; but it was long, very long, before he 
 regained his health and strength, and many weeks 
 elapsed before the happy evening when, he was
 
 304 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 able to walk round the garden, leaning on Beatrice's 
 arm, with his children running around him in merry 
 glee, delighted at seeing dear Papa out again. 
 
 As the hot sun, however, abated somewhat of the 
 intensity of its rays, and the pleasant soft days of 
 autumn began to appear, his strength came back, 
 slowly but surely, although it was long before he was 
 otherwise than an invalid. 
 
 During Walter's illness, another doctor had settled 
 in Mill Town, and although, even now, there were 
 some among his old patients, who came to Oakwood 
 occasionally to consult him, yet it was impossible 
 that his old practice could be kept up. He and 
 Beatrice were not poor, for his profession had 
 hitherto been quite sufficient for the support of the 
 family ; and, with the exception of a small sum ex- 
 pended on their first commencing housekeeping, 
 Beatrice's fortune remained almost untouched in the 
 bank at New York, where it had been lodged by her 
 father, and the accumulated interest during the five 
 years of their marriage, had increased this little 
 capital considerably. It is true that, at several dif 
 ferent times, Beatrice had, from her own resources, 
 assisted Hetty during the past year, when in dis- 
 tress, while Claude was in New York ; but it was 
 but very trifling sums that Hetty could be prevailed 
 upon to accept, for it was very galling to her,
 
 CLACJDE'S FICKLENESS. 305 
 
 remembering her sister's advice at the time of her 
 marriage, to feel that she was now in any way de- 
 pendent on her. 
 
 It seemed, indeed, as though poor Hetty's life 
 were to be cloudy in its morning we can only 
 hope that its noonday and eve will be less shad- 
 owy. Claude had become quite disgusted with the 
 aspect of affairs at the farm. He was too much of 
 a fine gentleman, and had far too little energy, to 
 set manfully to work and make the best of existing 
 circumstances. Difficulties, which to some minds 
 would have appeared mere trifles, completely floored 
 him. He threatened to give up the whole concern 
 altogether, and it was only his father's advice, and 
 his wife's urgent entreaty, which induced him to 
 hold on a little longer. It was some time after he 
 returned home, before he would go to Oakwood to 
 Bee Walter and Beatrice but we need not say that 
 he was kindly received that he was sure to be, if 
 but for his wife's sake alone. 
 
 It was one autumn morning, or perhaps, we could 
 scarcely have called it autumn it was more, the 
 last sweet leave-taking of summer one of those 
 lovely September days when, without having lost 
 the freshness of summer, the landscape seemed 
 almost unconsciously and imperceptibly to remind 
 one of the coming fall. A light gray mist fating 
 over the rich valley, in which lay Oakwood --the
 
 306 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 1'arm, and Springfield such a mist as only to pro- 
 mise a bright and glorious noon, and serving but to 
 lend new beauties to the scene. 
 
 Tired as Claude was with the minutiae and druclg 
 ing of a farm life, yet this lovely morning offered 
 him plenty of attractions in the sporting way, for he 
 was a good shot, and there was nothing he liked 
 better than to ramble over the farm with his gun in 
 his band, with his favorite dog, Hector. 
 
 Hetty was to go over to Oakwood, and spend the 
 day with her sister; glad, indeed, to have this 
 opportunity of a quiet chat with her; and Claude 
 was to come there to supper at six, after his day's 
 sport, and take her and little Yiolet home. 
 
 Walter was, of course, at home; he was too much 
 of an invalid to walk about, and he now spent a 
 great deal of time in reading for Beatrice was 
 necessarily a good deal occupied with the children, 
 and Clement was now old enough to have regular 
 lessons every morning. Aunt Louisa had returned 
 to New York some time before, and Beatrice was 
 really sorry to part with her, she had been so kind 
 and useful during Walter's illness but the good 
 lady had peculiar ideas about not out-staying her 
 welcome, and she could not be prevailed upon to 
 remain longer. 
 
 Laura Melville came in, in the course of the morn- 
 ing, and as the day was so fine and warm, she and
 
 THE ABSENT SPORTSMAX. 307 
 
 Beatrice, and Hetty took their work and sat under 
 a large tree in the garden, chatting merrily and 
 happily together, while the children played on the 
 mossy lawn beside them. "When Francis came 
 home from school, at four o'clock, they all set off for 
 a pleasant walk to Springfield, to see if Mr. Melville 
 could not be prevailed upon to come back with them 
 to supper at Oak wood. 
 
 It was about two hours after this that they were 
 again all assembled on the lawn, waiting for the 
 absent sportsman. They were to have a substantial 
 meal, a sort of union of tea and supper, as Claude 
 had not been home to dinner. Six o'clock was the 
 appointed time for meeting, and it was now half- 
 past, and it was already getting quite dusk, for the 
 shortening days bespoke the coming fall. At last 
 they settled to wait no longer that something must 
 have delayed Claude, and that he would come in 
 before they had finished ; he was a very uncertain 
 person in his movements at all times, so that his 
 not being punctual caused them no great uneasiness. 
 But before seven o'clock Hetty began to get fidgety, 
 and to go uneasily backward and forward from the 
 dining-room tb the hall door, to listen for his foot- 
 steps. But no! no sound disturbed the evening air; 
 all was still and silent as death. Half-past seven 
 a quarter to eight ! She could bear it no longer, and 
 Beatrice and her husband and Mr. Melville, all began 
 26
 
 308 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 to fee 1 anxious too; but they thought that Claude 
 must have become too tired, or that he had got wet 
 in some swampy ground and gone home ; still it 
 was strange that he sent no message to Hetty. 
 
 "If he does not come before ten minutes," said 
 old Mr. Melville, " I shall start for the farm myself 
 and see what has become of him." 
 
 But before ten minutes had elapsed there came 
 a loud ring at the front-door bell. The color left 
 Hetty's face, for she knew Claude would have walked 
 in without ringing. In another moment Socrates 
 came to the door and told Walter that some one 
 wished to speak with him. Hetty gave a sigh of 
 hope and relief, for she thought that very likely it 
 might be only some one come to Walter for medical 
 advice. 
 
 When Walter Grey went out into the hall, he saw 
 old Dennis, the servant at the farm, standing look- 
 ing rather frightened and uneasy but with his finger 
 on his lips as though to enjoin silence. 
 
 " If ye plase, sir," said he, in a whisper, " is the 
 master here ?" 
 
 " No, indeed, Dennis ; we have been expecting 
 him these two hours. He was to have come to take 
 Mrs. Melville home after he had done shooting." 
 
 " Faith and then, yer honor, I'm afeard intirely 
 there's something amiss. About an hour ago just 
 at dusk Hector came home, looking quite oneasy
 
 THE ABSENT SPORTSMAN. 309 
 
 like* and he would not go into his kennel for a long 
 time, but lay down and howled and howled, and 
 seemed as if he wanted us to foiled him somewheres, 
 the crathur ! Me and the t'others was quite scared 
 intirely, and I thought may-be I'd better come over 
 here and see if the master was here or no." 
 
 Walter listened breathlessly to Dennis' words. 
 Something surely must have happened to Claude or 
 the dog would not have gone home alone. He 
 scarcely knew what to do ; but he at last put his 
 head in at the dining-room door and called old Mr. 
 Melville out, that he might consult with him. 
 
 Hetty's fears were now thoroughly aroused. What 
 could Walter want with her father-in-law unless 
 something were the matter with Claude ? Quick as 
 thought she rushed into the hall, and seizing Wal- 
 ter's arm, she said : 
 
 " Oh ! Walter, Walter ! for heaven's sake tell me 
 what's the matter I Has Dennis brought any news 
 of Claude ?" 
 
 "No, indeed, ma'am," said the old man; "only 
 Hector's come home, and I thought may-be the 
 master might ha' got into some fix somewheres 
 on the farm; anyhow we had best go and see, I 
 take it." 
 
 Hetty gave a suppressed scream, and turned 
 deadly pale. " Yes, yes," she gasped, " we will go 
 
 and look for him." 
 20
 
 S10 QEEATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 "My dear child," said old Mr. Melville, tenderly, 
 "yon cannot possibly come with us; see how dark 
 the night is, and we may have miles to walk. Con- 
 trol yourself and stay with Beatrice. Do, for your 
 child's sake. God help you and comfort you. Come, 
 "Walter, let's be off I'm ready ; but dear me, how 
 are you to walk ? you are too weak to go far." 
 
 " The horse will be saddled in a minute I must 
 go," replied Walter. " Tell Socrates to come too, 
 Dennis, and to bring a lantern with him. By-the- 
 by, did you hear your master say, this morning, what 
 part of the farm he was going to shoot over ?" 
 
 " Never a one o' me knows nothing at all about 
 it, sir, except that when he started he set off on the 
 road toward Beechwood, right a' top o' the hill." 
 
 " Let us go to the farm and fetch Hector first," 
 said old Mr. Melville ; " he will be sure to lead us 
 in the right way to where he left his master a dog's 
 sagacity can always be trusted in these matters." 
 
 They accordingly set off "Walter riding slowly 
 on horseback, while the others walked by his side. 
 As they neared the farm, they could hear the long, 
 deep, melancholy howl of Hector, filling the night- 
 air with its mournful sounds. 
 
 "Ah 1 sirs," said old Dennis, sighing; " sure an' 
 when a dog howls like o' that, there '11 be a death 
 in the family. I always heerd that ever since I was 
 a little spalpeen o' a boy."
 
 HECTOR'S SAGACITY. 311 
 
 Walter and Mr. Melville answered not. They 
 were, themselves, filled with gloomy forebodings 
 and little as they might, in a calmer hour, give 
 credence to old Dennis' superstition, yet sertain it is 
 that the dismal sounds increased the vague terror 
 of impending evil which filled their minds. 
 
 To unloose Hector was but the work of a moment, 
 and the faithful animal seemed as though he under- 
 stood wherefore they had fetched him, for with a 
 low, sharp whine, he seized the skirt of Mr. Mel- 
 ville's coat, then walked off in a northerly direction, 
 then returned, and again seizing the coat, he seemed, 
 by these mute gestures, to invite them to follow 
 him. 
 
 Straight on, in a north-easterly direction, quite 
 away from both Oak wood and Springfield, did Hec- 
 tor pursue the track of his master's footsteps. Oh ! 
 how gloomy and melancholy it was ! It was not a 
 cold night, but the wind had changed, and it now 
 came sighing and breathing mournfully through the 
 tall trees, while a few drops of rain falling now and 
 again, threatened a shower. 
 
 It was dark, too, for the heavens had become 
 overspread with clouds, and it was with difficulty 
 that Hector's spotted black and white form could bo 
 descried as he ran on before them only stopping 
 ever and anon to see if they were following. On, 
 on, on, for nearly two miles, did they walk in gloomy
 
 312 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 silence, hoping every moment that the dog would 
 stop, and yet having an almost undefined dread of 
 his doing so, lest their worst fears should be real- 
 ized. 
 
 It was in a quiet, shady glen, underneath a large 
 tree, that Hector suddenly stopped short, and after 
 smelling around him, he gave one long, piercing 
 howl, and crouched down on the ground beside some 
 object which lay there. 
 
 Walter dismounted in an instant, and seizing the 
 lantern from Socrates, he hurriedly approached the 
 spot. Oh ! what a sight met his eye ; it blanched 
 his cheek with terror, and made his hand tremble as 
 he gazed. There lay poor Claude, cold and dead, 
 with his gun by his side, and a fearful wound in 
 bis head. 
 
 Mr. Melville gave a cry of horror and agony, and 
 threw himself on his knees beside the corpse, ex- 
 claiming : 
 
 "Oh ! my son, my son !" 
 
 " Oh ! Hetty, poor, poor girl ! How will she bear 
 this ?" groaned Walter. 
 
 At that moment a flash of lightning shot through 
 the branches of the trees, and illumined, for an in- 
 stant, the face of the dead. 
 
 His ramrod lay by his side, and it was evident 
 from the position in which he was found, and from 
 the direction the shot had taken, shattering his jaw,
 
 CLAUDE'S DEATH. 313 
 
 and going upward to the temple, that it was ID 
 charging his gun, while one barrel was loaded, that 
 the accident had occurred. 
 
 Walter was too weak to be able to assist in carry- 
 ing poor Claude's remains, and Socrates and Dennis 
 were both old men and feeble, so he resolved to ride 
 on to a cottage, distant only about a quarter of a 
 mile from the spot, and endeavor to procure help. 
 
 It was not very long before he returned with two 
 men, who had taken a door off its hinges and kindly 
 volunteered to carry the body. 
 
 Gloomily and sadly that little procession wended 
 its way to the farm. 
 
 The poor father walked last, his head bowed 
 down with grief, and his arms folded, heedless of 
 the rain which now pelted pitilessly against them ; 
 and, indeed, of aught save the lifeless form of his 
 once handsome boy. The light of a candle was 
 seen in the kitchen window as they approached the 
 house, for the two women-servants, Susan and old 
 Jane, were sitting up in a state of great fear and 
 alarm, awaiting the return of some members of the 
 household. 
 
 Walter rode on to prepare them for what was 
 coming. Susan screamed and fainted, but Jane, 
 although trembling in every limb, yet retained suf- 
 ficient command of herself to go along the passage 
 to the front-door with Walter, and then light the
 
 314: GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 men up-stairs, where they deposited poor Claude's 
 lifeless form on the bed. 
 
 Ah ! little did poor Hetty think, when she rose 
 that morning, what it was that would that night be 
 laid there, so cold, and stiff, and inanimate. 
 
 Leaving old Dennis at the farm, and bidding old 
 Jane do what was necessary toward washing and 
 dressing the corpse, Walter and Mr. Melville pro- 
 ceeded toward Oakwood, endeavoring to think how 
 they might best break the news to the poor young 
 wife. 
 
 Such grief as this is too deep, too tender, and 
 sacred to be described. What such a loss must be, 
 coming so suddenly and unexpectedly, can better bo 
 imagined than recorded. Poor Hetty ! it was, in- 
 deed, a blow sharp and lacerating to her tender 
 heart. 
 
 She went over to the farm with Walter, in the 
 buggy next morning, at her own request, that she 
 might gaze once more on the face of him who had 
 been so dear, and then returned to Oakwood, that 
 she might be with her sister and it was many, 
 many days before she could trust herself to re-enter 
 the walls of her old home again, where everything 
 BO painfully reminded her of her loss.
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Farewell 1 and may friendship, affection and love, 
 Surround thee through life with their holiest flowers; 
 
 And the peace that can only descend from above, 
 Shed its sunshine around thec, and hallow thy hours ! 
 
 I ODK years Lave again rolled away ! and when 
 we turn to look at our friends we shall see that with 
 them time has also wrought its accustomed changes. 
 
 In the rooms of the house at Oakwood fresh faces 
 were seen, for Walter Grey and his family had long 
 since left, and were now all residing at Mow Farm. 
 
 The long sickness which ensued after Walter wa8 
 wounded in New York, had determined him on 
 retiring from the more active duties of his profes- 
 sion, and living a quiet life in the country. Just at 
 this time, as we have seen, came poor Claude Mel- 
 ville's sad death, and as his young widow was not 
 able to undertake the management of the farm, 
 even if she had had the means to do so, Walter and 
 Beatrice resolved on taking it off her hfnds, and 
 accordingly purchased the place within three or four 
 months of the time of the accident. 
 
 Laura Melville was married a few days before they 
 27 (315)
 
 31 C GEEATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 removed, and poor Hetty, with her little daughter, 
 went to live with her father-in-law, at his own 
 urgent request. 
 
 At the time we are now speaking of, little Yiolet 
 had grown into a lovely child of three years eld ; 
 and she might often be seen wandering about the 
 garden and meadows of Springfield for hours to- 
 gether, with her grandfather, to whom she was de- 
 votedly attached for what would not dear grand- 
 papa, kind grandpapa do for her? Ah! anything 
 indeed: for the old man seemed almost to worship 
 the ground his sweet blue-eyed Yiolet trod on. 
 
 Time had somewhat softened the intensity of 
 Iletty's grief, and though her wild exuberance of 
 spirits was gone forever, she was calm and cheerful. 
 She was always busy, too. She had her little 
 daughter's education to attend to, and she superin- 
 tended all Mr. Melville's domestic arrangements, 
 presiding at Springfield as mistress of the house. 
 Then she was her father-in-law's constant compan- 
 ion during his leisure hours playing and reading 
 to him, walking with him, and endeavoring, in 
 every possible way, to render him as happy as she 
 could. 
 
 Yery often they had friends staying with them 
 Laura and her husband generally came down two 
 or three times in the year ; and William Melville, 
 who had been married some two years before, was
 
 TIME'S CHANGES. 317 
 
 never long without paying them a visit. Aunt 
 Louisa, too, always came in the summer, and spent 
 a month with each of her nieces, so that Hetty and 
 Mr. Melville were never long by themselves. 
 
 It was so pleasant, too, for Hetty to have her sis- 
 ter living so near. To go to Mow Farm was always 
 a pleasant walk for herself and Yiolet, and she knew 
 that in Beatrice she had a friend in whom she could 
 always confide, and to whom she could look up for 
 counsel and advice. 
 
 Now, however, Walter and Beatrice were not 
 alone, for they were entertaining, at their house, 
 some very old friends friends whom we have not 
 seen for many years. They consisted of a young 
 minister and his wife, an'd a widow lady in very 
 delicate health. 
 
 Let us look back awhile into the past. Madame 
 de Tremonille's expectations and hopes with regard 
 to her dear child, Blanche, had ere this been real- 
 ized, and about two months before the time we are 
 speaking of, she had seen her united to Mr. Camp- 
 bell. It was as good a match, in every way, as she 
 could have desired, for they seemed indeed thor- 
 oughly suited to each other, and to be such as would 
 go heart and hand together through life's journey. 
 
 Madame de Tremonille had been the more anx- 
 ious for this union to take place in consequence of 
 her own declining health : for how could she bear
 
 SI 8 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 to leave her dear child without a protector ? Her 
 own estate of Palm Hill she had already bequeathed 
 to her, and it was agreed that, even should her life 
 be spared, Blanche and her husband should live 
 with her, and make it their home. 
 
 The heat of the climate had gradually under- 
 mined her English constitution, and the physicians 
 imperatively ordering a colder climate, she was in- 
 duced to accept her friend Beatrice Grey's oft-re- 
 peated invitation, and come to pass a few months 
 with her in America. Hither she had been accom- 
 panied by Mr. Campbell and Blanche, for they were 
 unwilling for her to travel so long a distance alone, 
 and in so precarious a state of health. Beside, Mr. 
 Campbell had previously arranged with a brother 
 minister to take his place for a few weeks, that he 
 and Blanche might be able to take a little trip after 
 their marriage, so that it was no inconvenience for 
 him to leave his charge. 
 
 Here, then, we find them all at Mow Farm, walk- 
 ing up and down the garden with Beatrice and 
 "Walter. Oh ! what a long time it seemed since they 
 had met nine years ! ! "What changes had taken 
 place ! and how many, many events had occurred J 
 Madame de Tremonille was delighted to see Bea- 
 trice again, and she could never sufficiently ad- 
 mire her lovely children, of whom there were now 
 four.
 
 TIME'S CHANGES. 319 
 
 Both Beatrice and Hetty said they should not have 
 recognized Blanche at all ; they had seen her last a 
 little sliin child of ten years, and now she appeared 
 before them a young woman, with a tall, graceful 
 figure, and a brilliant brunette complexion, retain- 
 ing something in both her countenance and bearing 
 which bespoke her French origin. But though they 
 said they should not have known her, yet they felt 
 that she was all that her fond adopted mother had 
 so frequently described in her letters. There was 
 something about Blanche which plainly bespoke a 
 cultivated and superior intellect, while there was 
 also a gentle calmness and softness of manner that 
 suited well the Christian wife of a Christian min- 
 ister. 
 
 Seated on a low seat, at the far end of the garden, 
 might be seen an elderly mulatto-woman who had 
 accompanied Madame de Tremonille from St. Tho- 
 mas as her attendant, in consequence of her weak 
 state of health. This was our old friend, widow 
 Moore. Although the past nine years had added 
 somewhat of a stoop to her form and rendered her 
 step less alert, yet the light of her Christian charac- 
 ter, that light which if duly trimmed at the altar, 
 can never grow dim, burned yet brighter and clearer. 
 
 She was now surrounded by a group of merry 
 children, who were listening with breathless delight, 
 to her tales about her tropical home. Foremost
 
 320 GBEATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 among this group of children might be seen a tall, 
 thoughtful-looking boy, of apparently about fourteen 
 years of age. To him the others seemed to look up 
 as their counselor-general, watching his counten- 
 ance to see if he were t listening, or perhaps if the 
 good widow were reciting something beyond their 
 youthful comprehension, they would gaze at Francis 
 to see whether they were expected to laugh or cry. 
 
 It was not long that Blanche and Mr. Campbell 
 could stay with their American friends, for the latter 
 was impatient to return to the scene of his labors ; 
 but it was agreed that Madame de Tremonille should 
 remain at Mow Farm for several months, all hoping 
 that the change of air might restore her to her ac- 
 customed health. 
 
 To perfect health it certainly did not restore her ; 
 but by the following summer she was so much better 
 that she and her faithful attendant once more set off 
 for St. Thomas. There, after two years more of al- 
 ternate sickness and health two years more of gen- 
 tle love and Christian usefulness she passed away 
 to that rest " which remaineth for the people of 
 God." 
 
 Her remains repose in the little church-yard near 
 those of Beatrice's father; and truly and deeply 
 was she lamented, not only by Blanche and her hus- 
 band, but by the numerous friends and dependents 
 &he left in the island "Blessed are the dead which
 
 CONCLUSION. 321 
 
 die in tho Lord; yea, saith the Spirit, for they 
 rest from their labors, and their works do follow 
 them." 
 
 Blanche and Mr. Campbell now reside at Palm 
 Hill, pursuing actively the duties of their calling as 
 laborers in the vineyard of their Lord. And here 
 we shall leave them, only trusting that when they 
 too shall have finished the work their Master has for 
 them to do, they may meet around that throne of 
 the Lamb all those dear friends, from whom, as we 
 see, death had been permitted to separate them. 
 And now, too, as even the " best friends must 
 part," we shall say farewell to our friend Beatrice 
 Grey. 
 
 We leave her happy in the quiet duties of domes- 
 tic life, training her little ones up in the service and 
 love of God, and being, as she always has been, her 
 husband's daily joy, and dearest earthly friend. Her 
 path of life was not uncheckered by trials ; but 
 there were always so many sweet violets growing 
 by the way-side, that it was not other than a happy 
 one. 
 
 In her children she was abundantly rewarded, and 
 in none more so than in her adopted son, Francis, 
 who lived to be, as had always been the dearest 
 wish of his heart, an eminent and devoted minister of 
 the Gospel. And by the tender love, and unceasing, 

 
 322 GREATNESS IN LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 dutiful respect he showed for "Walter and Beatrice 
 when a boy, as well as by his future career, so pecu- 
 liarly blessed and honored, the truth of that word 
 was abundantly proved to them " Cast thy bread 
 upon tae waters, and thou ehalt find it after many 
 iays." 
 
 THE END 


 
 saHf 
 
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