THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 Rare Book Room 
 GIFT OF 
 
 John W, Beckman 
 
Frontispiece. 
 
 Under the Pear-tree. 
 
UNDER THE PEAR TREE : 
 
 OB, 
 
 BY 
 
 AUNT FRIENDLY 
 
 LET PATIENCE HAVE HER PERFECT WORK. 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 
 ANSON D, F. RANDOLPH, 
 
 No. 683 BROADWAY. 
 1862 
 
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1862, 
 
 BY ANSON D. F. EANDOLPH, 
 
 lu the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States 
 for the Southern District of New York. 
 
 EDWAED O. JENKINS, 
 
 printer anli Stereotgper, 
 No. 20 NORTH WILLIAM ST. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 /PAGK 
 
 I. THE OLD-FASHIONED GARDEN 7 
 
 II. NEWS 16 
 
 III. THE VISITORS 29 
 
 IV. SOUTH AMERICA 38 
 
 V. OVERTURNINGS 48 
 
 VI. THE LITTLE HEATHEN 84 
 
 VII. THE WOODS 81 
 
 VIII. SICKNESS 93 
 
 IX. MORNING LIGHT 102 
 
 X. HAND IN HAND 106 
 
 XL RACHE 113 
 
 XII. A DECISION 124 
 
 XIII. CONCLUSION .. . 130 
 
fittk ttatttt. 
 
 WE write not now of little crosses, 
 
 Which, wreathed with flowers, in churchyards stand, 
 To tell of mothers' bitter losses, 
 
 And little saints in " Better Land." 
 
 Nor dwell we on those crosses olden, 
 
 Whereon the infant martyrs died, 
 When meekly soft, small hands were holden, 
 
 Like Jesus to be crucified. 
 
 Nay, ours is but a simple story 
 
 Of Christian life in childhood's morn, 
 When Jesus trains the heir of glory, 
 
 Through daily trials rightly borne. 
 
 Each little burden he will measure, 
 
 He knows what weight each lamb can bear ; 
 
 He plans each tiny grief and pleasure, 
 With his own loving, tender care. 
 
 1* (5) 
 
UNDER THE PEAR TREE. 
 
 i. 
 
 trees and currant bushes, lilac 
 and mock orange, blush roses and 
 ^^ damask, there they all were, as green 
 and flourishing as in dear old Mrs. Eaton's 
 time, when her garden was the pride of her 
 heart. She, good lady, had gone to her 
 rest, but the trees she had planted and the 
 flowers she had nursed were of her a per 
 petual emblem and memorial. Freely each 
 year they gave their fruit and fragrance, 
 then sank into seeming death, a death, 
 which, like hers, was but the sure forerun 
 ner of a glad resurrection. 
 
 Mrs. Eaton no longer walked up and 
 
 CO 
 
8 UNDER THE PEAR TREE. 
 
 down the broad path between the straight 
 " borders " to count her tulips by hundreds, 
 or to mark where the crown-imperials were 
 treasuring their drops of honey for the 
 grand-children's curious fingers. No longer 
 she lingered to catch the perfume of her 
 damask roses, while the great grey cat rub 
 bed backward and forward against her 
 dress, as if wondering whether her mistress 
 had stopped to be caressed, or to let the 
 sunshine fall on those silvery tresses which 
 little hands had smoothed so lovingly. Mrs. 
 Eaton was no more among her flowers. She 
 had passed to that land where there is no 
 blight, no death, no decay. 
 
 Yet the old-fashioned garden was still the 
 same, and the knotty pear tree had hung out 
 its blossoms one spring morning, as cheerily 
 as if it had not seen full thirty seasons since 
 it gained its prime. A gentle breeze shook 
 the gnarled branches, and down came a 
 white shower, a sweet spring shower, from 
 
THE OLD-FASHIONED GARDEN. 9 
 
 the dainty blossoms. A pair of blue eyes 
 looked up quickly, and a pleasant smile 
 crossed a bright young face for a moment ; 
 then the eyes were again fixed upqai an 
 open book, and the young face grew serious 
 with earnest interest. It seemed as if the 
 old pear tree was in its way, blessing the 
 little reader, bending there over God's 
 book in the very May morning of her life. 
 
 Carrie Eaton liked that seat under the 
 pear tree, with the little grass plot about 
 her, and the currant bushes shutting in the 
 green circle with their friendly hedge. It 
 was a quiet retired spot, full of sacred 
 memories of that dear grandmother who 
 had so early shown to her the beauty and 
 power of the religion which can make old 
 age lovely, and robe even death with glory. 
 Here Carrie had heard many sweet words 
 of counsel from the lips of the aged saint, 
 and here she liked to bring her Bible to 
 keep the promise she had made to that dear 
 
10 UNDER THE PEAE TREE. 
 
 friend to read in it every day, as long as 
 she should live. Ah ! Mrs. Eaton had made 
 sure of a blessing when she secured such 
 daily food for the child. Carrie was read 
 ing of Stephen, the first martyr, this morn 
 ing, and her eyes were at one time large 
 with interest, then soft with tears, as she 
 went on with the story. 
 
 "And when he had said this, he fell 
 asleep." These were the last words of the 
 chapter, and Carrie had shut the book. 
 Was she, too, asleep ? 
 
 Her eyes were closed, but busy, very busy 
 was the brain within. Not alone of Ste 
 phen was she thinking, but of the long train 
 of martyrs, who like him had suffered for 
 their Lord. Glorious indeed seemed to her 
 such a portion. " I wonder if I could be a 
 martyr ? " she said to herself. " I wonder 
 how it would seem." 
 
 As the little girl spoke, she rose from her 
 seat, and stood with her back firmly against 
 
THE OLD-FASHIONED GARDEN. 11 
 
 the trunk of the old tree. " I could not 
 move," she whispered ; " I should be tied 
 fast, and they would heap up faggots around 
 me, and the guards would stand off about 
 where the currant bushes are, to watch the 
 fire, and see how I could bear the torture. 
 I would sing ; yes, I would sing ' I want to 
 be an angel/ They should see that I was 
 glad to die for the Saviour." 
 
 To Carrie's excited imagination she 
 seemed in the midst of the scene she had 
 fancied. The currant bushes, clad in their 
 tender green, were to her soldiers in martial 
 array ; the tree was the fatal stake, and as 
 closely she was bound to it as if chains of 
 iron were holding her there. On the rustic 
 seat beside her lay her Bible and her bon 
 net, the sun bonnet she had twitched off so 
 hastily that the still untied knot dangled to 
 the one firm string. Book and bonnet were 
 unseen by Carrie, in whose imagination the 
 martyr's pile about her was already lighted. 
 
12 UNDER THE PEAR TREE. 
 
 Then her sweet voice burst forth in her fa 
 vorite hymn, so loud and clear that the 
 birds joined in their chorus, as in sympathy 
 with her seeming joy. 
 
 The hymn was over, and Carrie looked 
 about her, fancying that for the last time 
 she saw the pleasant piazza of her home and 
 the tall trees drooping over its roof. The 
 garden, the orchard, "soon she should see no 
 more. Her mother! Here Carrie's heart 
 quailed, but she choked the sudden feeling, 
 and commenced again singing, in a voice 
 even more strong and clear than before, 
 
 " Just as I am, without one plea 
 But that thy blood was shed for me, 
 And thou biddest me come to thee, 
 Lamb of God, I come." 
 
 Carrie was not to forget her mother, even 
 in her fancied martyrdom. 
 
 Through the only opening in the currant 
 bushes came that mother, pleased to hear 
 her daughter so employed, but astonished at 
 
THE OLD-FASHIOXED GARDEN. 13 
 
 her constrained attitude, and the excited 
 expression in her usually gentle face. 
 
 " Carrie, dear, I was looking for you," 
 she said, as she laid her hand on the child's 
 shoulder. 
 
 Carrie started, then put her head on her 
 mother's neck, and burst into tears. " I am 
 glad it is not true after all ! " she exclaim 
 ed ; "I could not bear to leave you." 
 
 " What! what, my child ! " said the mother, 
 anxiously. 
 
 " Oh, I was trying to see how it would 
 seem to be a martyr, and I thought I could 
 bear it very well till I saw you, and heard 
 you speak to me. I am afraid I never could 
 be a martyr ! Mother, can anybody be a 
 Christian who is not willing to be a mar 
 tyr?" 
 
 The mother smiled, and putting her arm 
 around her child, she sat down with her be 
 neath the old tree. 
 
 " God has not chosen you to be one of 
 2 
 
14: UNDER THE PEAR TREE. 
 
 his martyrs, Carrie. You cannot expect to 
 be ready for what he has not asked you to 
 do. No one can be a true Christian who is 
 not ready to bear just what God gives him 
 to suffer. That is all he requires of us. 
 We each have our cross to bear, our trials 
 to go through, and we must suffer with pa 
 tience if we are truly Christ's followers. 
 Our Lord is very merciful. He knows the 
 tender hearts of little children, and rarely 
 sends them great trials ; and he has made it 
 so natural for them to be joyous, that even 
 in real affliction they cannot suffer as older 
 people do. You must have the martyr's 
 spirit, Carrie, though you may not have his 
 iiery trial. You must be willing to bear all 
 *hat is sent you cheerfully, and even joyfully, 
 since it is our Lord who plans every feature 
 and circumstance of our daily life. He 
 plans for us in love, and in love and cheer 
 fulness we should endure what he sends." 
 " I don't have any thing to bear ; I feel 
 
THE OLD-FASHIONED GARDEN. 15 
 
 as though I should like to have to endure 
 something,' 7 said Carrie, in a disappointed 
 tone. 
 
 Again the mother smiled, as she said, " It 
 will not be long, my darling, before you will 
 have something to try your patience ; re 
 member, then, that the smallest troubles 
 may be borne for Jesus' sake, and so may 
 be met with the martyr's spirit." 
 
II. 
 
 gtftfft. 
 
 CARRIE EATON was not at all times 
 tlie serious, thoughtful child we found 
 her in our last chapter. The very af 
 ternoon which followed her fancied martyr 
 dom, she spent in playing hide-and-go-seek 
 with her cousin, and the air that had re 
 sounded to her parting hymn, rang with her 
 merry peals of laughter. 
 
 Sound was Carrie's sleep after her frolic, 
 and her dreams were an odd mingling of 
 the solemn and the joyous, her morning 
 of excitement and her afternoon of fun. 
 Only God reads those dreams, the merciful 
 heavenly Father, who understands the mys 
 teries of the heart of childhood. He knew 
 the sincerity of her desire to do his will ; 
 he did not frown upon her innocent pleasures. 
 
 (16) 
 
NEWS. 17 
 
 The kind Providence that watches over 
 little children, seems to make their eyes 
 heavy with sleep, and lay them aside for the 
 night, that it may fill them with a new 
 measure f joy with which to awake in the 
 morning. So it was with Carrie Eaton ; 
 the early sunlight that lit her pretty bed 
 room made her conscious of a glad awaking, 
 and she cheerily opened her eyes to the new 
 day. Yery happy she felt while she was 
 dressing ; her parents, her home, her every 
 blessing seemed particularly precious to her, 
 and when she knelt for her morning prayer, 
 it was to be a thanksgiving quite as much 
 as a series of petitions. As Carrie looked 
 round once more on her pleasant room be 
 fore going down to breakfast, she thought 
 of the martyr Stephen, and almost lamented 
 that she had no cross to bear, or that it 
 was so light, that as yet she hardly felt its 
 burden. 
 
 Young Mrs. Eaton, the villagers called. 
 2* 
 
18 UNDER THE PEAR TREE. 
 
 Carrie's mother, but as we have only had a 
 passing glimpse of the old lady among her 
 flowers before she went to her rest, we may 
 think of her as one of those who bear the 
 "new name" in the Heavenly kingdom, 
 while we shall know as Mrs. Eaton, the 
 young, pleasant-looking lady who was wait 
 ing for Carrie in the breakfast-room. 
 
 Mr. Eaton was a quiet, studious man, who 
 loved his books and his wife and child, and 
 was ever happiest when in his own home. 
 He had made no effort to make public his 
 consistent character, or to exhibit his good 
 deeds ; yet somehow his light did shine, and 
 that so clearly, that there was not a man in 
 all Bending Brook who was more univer 
 sally beloved or respected. When our 
 Lord bade us to " let our light shine," he 
 did not tell us to flaunt it in our neighbors' 
 faces. We have but to see to it that our 
 lamps are burning, and if they are lit from 
 .above, their brightness will make glad the 
 
NEWS. 19 
 
 spot where we dwell, without taking any 
 trouble about the matter. 
 
 People said it was natural for the Batons 
 to be good ; they had been so, father and 
 son, mother and daughter, for four genera 
 tions. (Ah, that were indeed belonging to 
 a good family /) Those outsiders saw the 
 results, but they knew very little of the 
 facts of the case. They had not heard the 
 earnest prayers in the closet, at the family 
 altar, and in sweet interviews between 
 mother and child that had been breathed 
 in the Eaton's home. They gave no credit 
 to the pious, careful training, line upon line, 
 precept upon precept, which was the pecu 
 liarity of the house. They had not seen 
 each individual soul in its repentance, its 
 faith, its struggles, its continual struggles 
 heavenward. 
 
 Mr. Eaton looked up from a letter he was 
 reading as Carrie came into the breakfast- 
 room. His verv smile was a welcome with- 
 
20 UNDER THE PEAR TREE. 
 
 out his pleasant " Good morning." An 
 important letter that seemed to be, for it 
 lay beside the father's plate all the while he 
 was eating, and he favored it now and then 
 with a thoughtful glance. 
 
 " Father was planning something to-day, 
 I am sure," said Carrie, as Mr. Eaton left 
 the house for his morning walk. 
 
 " Yes, Carrie," said the mother ; " we 
 are to have visitors who are to pass some 
 time with us. Very likely your father was 
 'planning/ as you say, to arrange his time so 
 as to have as much as possible to spare for 
 his guests." 
 
 " Visitors ! " exclaimed Carrie ; " I am so 
 glad ! I like to have company. Who are 
 they?" 
 
 " Mr. and Mrs. Grant, a young couple 
 who have only been married a year. Mr. 
 Grant is a son of an old friend of your 
 father," was the reply. 
 
 " Only a Mr. and Mrs. ! " said Carrie, with 
 
NEWS. 21 
 
 a disappointed air. " I hoped it was some 
 pretty young lady, or maybe somebody with 
 a baby, or a little girl." 
 
 " I am sure you will feel as we do, glad 
 to receive them, when I tell you that Mr. 
 Grant had a government office at Washing 
 ton, and has just been thrown out of it. 
 Your father has invited him to stay here 
 until he can get a new situation. He feels 
 very much interested for the young couple 
 in their misfortune." 
 
 Mrs. Eaton might have added, that Mr. 
 Grant had been quite intemperate when a 
 very young man, and that her husband 
 feared that in his present discouragement 
 his old habits might revive, and was there 
 fore anxious to give him the shelter of a 
 Christian home, and the kind love of an 
 elder friend, till his time of temptation 
 should be over. This part of the story 
 Mrs. Eaton prudently kept to herself, but 
 she had told enough to awaken Carrie's 
 
22 UNDER THE PEAR TREE. 
 
 warm sympathies, and she at once ex 
 claimed : 
 
 " That was just like father ; so kind ! I 
 mean to be as pleasant to them as I can." 
 
 " That is a good resolution, but it may 
 cost you some effort to keep it. I shall 
 have to give them your room, my dear, that 
 they may feel free to stay as long as they 
 please. If I put them in our east chamber, 
 they may fancy they are in the way if other 
 visitors should arrive. You can have the 
 little room next to us. I shall have you al 
 most under my wing again." 
 
 Carrie tried to smile, but it was a dismal 
 little smile. Give up her pleasant room j 
 the very spot that had looked so charmingly 
 to her in the morning ! Take the cramped 
 quarters where there was but a narrow pas 
 sage betwixt the bed and the bureau ! These 
 were not pleasant ideas. "Where shall I 
 hang my dresses ? There is no closet in the 
 hall-room." said Carrie. 
 
NEWS. 23 
 
 " I shall have to make a place for you in 
 one of my great closets. My black dresses 
 are not so many that I cannot let in a little 
 pink or blue, one here and there, to keep 
 them company," said the mother, with a 
 cheerful smile. 
 
 " Shall I leave my book-case in my room, 
 and my baby-house and my great work-box, 
 and my little rocking-chair, and all my 
 things ? There will be no place for them 
 in the little room," continued Carrie, in a 
 somewhat disconsolate tone. 
 
 " If you think yourself a martyr in this 
 heavy trouble, my darling, you must try to 
 suffer cheerfully," said the mother, with a 
 
 smile. 
 
 Carrie blushed very deeply, as she an 
 swered, " Indeed, mamma, I forgot all about 
 what you were saying to me yesterday. I 
 do not think I should make a very good 
 martyr, but I really want to bear my little 
 troubles as well as I can." 
 
24 UNDER THE PEAR TREE. 
 
 " Then off with you up stairs, and be as 
 busy as a bee. I shall come up by-and-by, 
 to see what you have accomplished. You 
 can change your clothes to the other bureau 
 without my being there. You may lock up 
 your baby-house and your work-box, and let 
 them remain where they are. Your little 
 work-basket and your favorite doll Fanny, 
 can go with you to your new home. Your 
 book-case you had better leave where it is. 
 I do not think Mr. and Mrs. Grant are re 
 ligious people, and perhaps they may take 
 down some of your sweet Sunday-school 
 stories, or pleasant hymns, and be the better 
 for reading them. I am sure you would not 
 object to that." 
 
 Carrie's eyes sparkled as she answered : 
 " I should love to have my books do some 
 good ! I hope they will read them. And, 
 mother, may I leave grandmother's big 
 Bible, with her favorite texts marked in it, 
 on the little table, where I always keep it ?" 
 
NEWS. 25 
 
 " Yes, my child," said the mother, with an 
 approving smile. "And, Carrie, if you 
 choose, you may let your rocking-chair 
 keep its place, too. Mr. Grant speaks of 
 his 'little wife/ perhaps that may prove 
 just the sort to suit her." 
 
 " Is she little ? I am so glad ; she won't 
 seem like so much of a stranger to me. 
 Perhaps I shall be almost as big as she is ; 
 everybody says I am a very tall girl for ten 
 years old." 
 
 Carrie straightened herself up as she 
 spoke, but she did not look so very impos 
 ing after all. 
 
 " Mrs. Grant must be a little woman, in 
 deed, if she is not taller than you are, 
 darling," said Mrs. Eaton, with a smile. 
 
 "Didn't you ever see her? Do you 
 know her husband ?" asked Carrie, quickly. 
 
 "I have never seen them," said Mrs. 
 Eaton, quietly. 
 
 " Do you like to have them come, mam- 
 3 
 
26 UNDER THE PEAR TREE. 
 
 ma?" Carrie looked earnestly into her 
 mother's face, as she asked this question. 
 
 The least bit of a blush came suddenly 
 into Mrs. Eaton's usually pale cheeks, as she 
 answered, " Of course I cannot feel as glad, 
 Carrie, as if it were your aunt Fanny, or 
 any one I really love ; yet I do want to have 
 them come, and I shall try to like them 
 both, and make it very pleasant for them 
 here." 
 
 "Ah, mamma ! I have caught you this 
 time," exclaimed Carrie. "You take your 
 little crosses so sweetly, that nobody ever 
 knows you have any thing to bear. Of 
 course, you like it better with just father 
 and me ; but you think it is kind to invite 
 them here, and you mean to do them all the 
 good you can. I understand you, and now 
 I shall go up stairs and make my room look 
 as sweetly as I can, for the { wee wife.' " 
 
 Backwards and forwards went Carrie's 
 busy feet as she bore armful after armful of 
 
NEWS. 27 
 
 clothing, thinking all the time that her 
 little toil was sent her by her heavenly 
 Master, and she would try, like her mother, 
 to bear it so cheerfully that it should cease 
 to be a pain. 
 
 Carrie's valuables were locked up, and 
 the bunch of keys dropped into her pocket. 
 She had arranged the books on the shelf, 
 and as she read the titles, sent up a silent 
 prayer that they might be blessed to the 
 new comers. The small rocking-chair was 
 placed by the most cheerful window, and a 
 bouquet of fresh flowers had been put in 
 front of the great Bible on the corner table. 
 
 Carrie looked round approvingly, and a 
 feeling of love sprung up in her heart to 
 ward the expected guests, for whom she 
 had been so kindly preparing. She was so 
 full of cheerfulness that she was not put out 
 of patience when her dress caught on the 
 various knobs as she passed into her new 
 room, and sat down by the window. There 
 
28 UNDER THE PEAR TREE*. 
 
 was just room for a seat at the foot of the 
 bed, and there Carrie established herself to 
 take a few moments of rest. From this 
 side of the house she could see the dear old 
 garden, and the pear tree in the midst of 
 its circle of green, the scene of her im 
 agined martyrdom. "Ah ! " thought she, " it 
 is well I am not called to be a martyr, if it 
 is so hard for me to bear even the trials. 
 When I look out of this window, I hope I 
 shall always remember what mother said to 
 me under the pear tree." 
 
 There was a whisper at Carrie's heart 
 that every good resolution should be 
 strengthened by prayer. Softly she stepped 
 to the door, and gently locked it. Then 
 she knelt down by the small bed, and very 
 earnestly she prayed that -God would help 
 her to bear patiently all trials, great and 
 small, which he might send her, and make 
 her ever ready cheerfully to do his will. 
 
III. 
 
 was stealing on as Carrie 
 \yjjJ and her mother were awaiting Mr. 
 Eaton's return from the depot, whither 
 he had gone to meet the expected guests. 
 
 There was no detention of trains that day, 
 and not long was Carrie's eager face pressed 
 against the parlour window before she ex 
 claimed, " They are coming ! they are com 
 ing ! " and mother and child were at once 
 at the door with a ready welcome on their 
 lips. 
 
 Mr. Eaton stepped first from the carriage, 
 but was immediately followed by a slender 
 young man, who turned but a moment so as 
 to make visible his gay waistcoat and soft 
 curls, and then put his head into the carriage 
 to assist the rest of the party to alight. 
 
 3* 29 
 
30 UNDER THE PEAR TREE. 
 
 The lady, the very little lady, put her 
 hands on his shoulders, and he lifted her on 
 to the steps as if she had been a child. 
 
 Mrs. Eaton moved forward with extended 
 hand, thinking her time had come now, but 
 the strangers seemed as yet unconscious of 
 her presence. " Do wake Roche up ; shake 
 her, William, she's almost dead with sleep," 
 said Mrs. Grant, as her husband was again 
 half into the carriage. 
 
 Mrs. Eaton and Carrie exchanged glances 
 of astonishment and curiosity, a curiosity 
 which was soon gratified. Out came a little 
 negro girl, with her eyes as wide open as 
 if she beheld the world for the first time, 
 and was much surprised at its inhabitants. 
 The numerous braids of woolly hair standing 
 off from her head in every direction, added 
 to her look of startled wonder, and almost 
 made Carrie forget her politeness in a sud 
 den laugh. This breach of decorum she was 
 saved by her father's saying at the moment, 
 
THE VISITORS. 31 
 
 " Mr. and Mrs. Grant, let me present you to 
 my wife and daughter." 
 
 Mr. Grant went through the introduction 
 with an easy off-hand cordiality, but his lit 
 tle wife seemed intent upon noticing the safe 
 landing of two great trunks, which after a 
 few hasty words she promptly followed to 
 the room where they were placed. 
 
 Very prettily looked Mrs. Grant when she 
 came down to the supper table, though her 
 style of dress was not particularly suited to 
 the occasion. In the midst of her waving 
 dark hair glistened the pendants from the 
 various gilt pins with which her head was 
 adorned, while her light green silk was be- 
 ruffled and beflounced in the height of fash 
 ion. 
 
 Mr. Grant admired her very heartily, that 
 vas plain, as he went so far as to ask Mrs. 
 Eaton if she did not think green particularly 
 becoming to a fresh complexion like his 
 Lizzie's. 
 
32 UNDER THE PEAR TREE. 
 
 Mrs. Eaton kindly assented, but she man 
 aged to get very quickly from green silks to 
 other green things, and so to the country, 
 and so out of range of silks and satins. 
 
 Behind Mrs. Grant's chair stood Rache, 
 now thoroughly awake, and on the alert to 
 see all that was to be seen. Radio's few 
 garments dropped scant and straight around 
 her, and made her seem even more scrupul 
 ously erect than she really was, while her 
 head sloping up from the forehead increased 
 the air of self-satisfaction, which was plainly 
 her predominant characteristic. Whatever 
 might happen, Bache never considered her 
 self to blame. It was her misfortune to live 
 in a world where things " went wrong " a 
 trial which she generally bore with provok 
 ing good humour. 
 
 Mrs. Grant had very little appetite after 
 her journey, and her husband pressed her to 
 take what was on the table, quite as if he 
 were the master of the house. 
 
THE VISITORS. 33 
 
 After tea followed a dragging conversa 
 tion, in which Mrs. Grant seemed only at 
 her ease when she could describe some party 
 she had attended, or some magnificent dress 
 that had attracted her admiration. The 
 gentlemen meanwhile were getting on rather 
 better, arid Carrie stole to her father's side 
 to listen to his account of his first visit in 
 his boyhood to the early home of Mr. Grant. 
 She was just deeply interested in the result 
 of a ride on a very wild pony, when her 
 mother gently said, " It is time for you to go up 
 stairs now, Carrie, you may say ' good night.' " 
 
 Carrie gave the usual kiss to her father 
 and mother, and then looked doubtfully at 
 the strangers. 
 
 " I like little girls," said Mr. Grant, pleas 
 antly. " I must have a kiss, too." 
 
 Mrs. Grant did not seem fond of children ; 
 at any rate her manner was very cold, as she 
 turned her cheek to Carrie, and bade her 
 good night. 
 
34 UNDER THE PEAR TREE. 
 
 Mrs. Eaton was in the habit of going up 
 stairs with her little daughter and seeing 
 her safely into bed. Many a pleasant talk 
 they had in those quiet interviews, and Car 
 rie often said, she never loved her mother as 
 well as when she was sitting on the edge of 
 the bed, and bending over her after one of 
 these heart to heart conversations. 
 
 This night Carrie went alone to her little 
 room. Her head was quite in a whirl when 
 she sat down to read a few verses in her 
 Bible, as was her custom. She repeated 
 very earnestly her usual petition on opening 
 the Holy Book, "Lord bless thy word to 
 me," and her thoughts by degrees were fixed 
 upon what she was reading, and even in her 
 prayers they did not wander. When, how 
 ever, she was fairly in bed, Mr. and Mrs. 
 Grant and Rache took possession of her 
 mind. " He is not at all like papa, and yet 
 he is not disagreeable. He likes little girls ; 
 I am glad of that. I can get on with almost 
 
THE VISITORS. 35 
 
 any body that likes children. I don't know 
 what Mrs. Grant will think of my gingham 
 apron I wear to breakfast. I wonder if she 
 always dresses in silk ? I don't believe she 
 cares about little girls j she only spoke to me 
 when she bade me good night. I don't see 
 what Rache does all the time ; she is the 
 queerest little object I ever saw. When her 
 mouth opens to laugh, it seems to pull her 
 eyes open too. Oh, dear, I wish mother was 
 here, I do so miss her ; I am afraid she 
 won't come up with me all the while the 
 visitors are here." 
 
 Carrie was just getting out of humour 
 with the Grants, when some one came in 
 very gently at the door. 
 
 " I am not asleep, mamma ! I am so glad 
 to see you," said Carrie, rising up in bed. 
 "Mrs. Grant had to consult with her hus 
 band about a letter she wanted him to write 
 in the morning, so I took the opportunity to 
 slip up stairs for a moment," said Mrs. Eaton. 
 
36 UNDER THE PEAK TREE. 
 
 " I sha'n't like them at all if they keep 
 you away from me," said Carrie, as she put 
 her arm around her mother's neck. " I am 
 afraid it will not be very pleasant having 
 them here. Do you think they will stay very 
 long?" 
 
 " Hush ! hush ! my child ! " said her mo 
 ther, with a look of pain in her features, 
 " I cannot bear to hear you speak in that 
 way of guests in our house. I will give you 
 some Bible verses to dwell upon when such 
 thoughts come into your mind : ' Use hos 
 pitality without grudging.' ' I was a stran 
 ger and ye took me in.' * Inasmuch as ye 
 have done it unto one of the least of these, 
 ye have done it unto me.' " 
 
 " I did not think of that, mamma," said 
 Carrie, brightening. " ' Inasmuch as ye have 
 done it unto one of the least of these.' I 
 was out of patience about your not coming 
 up. I dare say I shall like them very much." 
 
 " Having strangers in the house may call 
 
THE VISITORS. 37 
 
 for some self-denial on your part in many 
 ways, but I am sure you are too thankful for 
 your pleasant home to murmur at the lit 
 tle trials you have to bear/' said Mrs. Eaton. 
 
 " Indeed I am ; I feel as if I loved every 
 body and could not be made cross by any 
 thing more, mamma ; so kiss me again, and 
 in the morning I shall try to get up as pa 
 tient as a little martyr." 
 
 Mrs. Eaton went down stairs and Carrie 
 soon fell asleep to dream of Rache, a tulip 
 blossoming out from every independent 
 braid on her wonderful head, 
 4 
 
IV. 
 
 ARRIE EATON was not only fond of 
 flowers, but she liked gardening, real 
 hard work with rake and hoe. 
 Carrie had what she called a magnificent 
 plan for laying out her little plot of ground 
 this summer. Not landscape gardening was 
 it to be, but geographical gardening, a new 
 branch of horticulture. She was going to 
 represent South America on a small scale 
 mountains, rivers and plains, all complete. 
 
 Already a long bank of earth represented 
 the one-sided backbone of the peninsula, 
 while a piece of broken quartz conspicuously 
 stood out as the rocky island of Terra del 
 Fuego, with a smaller stone south of it, as 
 the renowned Cape Horn. The great Am 
 azon w T as now to rise among the mountains 
 
 (38) 
 
SOUTH AMERICA. 39 
 
 and make its way to the sea. This was a 
 work of difficulty, but Carrie was resolved 
 upon success. Her mother had warned her 
 that breakfast would be somewhat later than 
 usual to accommodate the strangers, and the 
 little girl had determined to at least make 
 ready the bed of the Amazon before she was 
 called to the table. She was hard at work 
 lifting the hoe high in air for every stroke, 
 when she was accosted by a pleasant voice 
 behind her. 
 
 " You are an early riser, Miss Carrie ; 
 pray what are you doing ? " said Mr. Grant, 
 as he surveyed the field of her labours. 
 
 Carrie explained her plan, and dwelt with 
 enthusiasm on the way she meant to carry 
 it out. 
 
 Mr. Grant smiled good-humor edly, as he 
 said, " The rivers will be your great difficul 
 ty. "Water would sink into this soil as fast 
 as you poured it on. I might make you 
 some wooden troughs with sloping sides, 
 
4.0 UNDER THE PEAR TREE. 
 
 and you could line them with moss. Let me 
 see, the land lies just right from the pump, 
 to have the water brought here in an under 
 ground pipe, passing through the mountains, 
 and opening just where you want your riv 
 ers to rise." 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Grant ! how kind you are ! " 
 exclaimed Carrie. " That will be splendid ;" 
 and more vigorously than ever went on her 
 preparations. 
 
 Mr. Grant was very fond of little girls, 
 as he had said, and he amused himself for 
 some time chatting with Carrie, as she pur 
 sued her labors with most creditable industry. 
 
 "I should like to see the real Andes," 
 said Carrie. As she spoke she surveyed her 
 mountains, enjoying their heights being in 
 creased by every new arrival of soil from the 
 growing bed of the Amazon. 
 
 " What if I should tell you that I had 
 seen the real Andes, with these very eyes 
 that are looking at you," said Mr. Grant. 
 
SOUTH AMERICA. 41 
 
 " Are you in earnest ? " said Carrie, stop 
 ping to gaze into her companion's face. 
 
 " Yes, certain, true, black and blue," was 
 the answer. " I took a sea-voyage a voyage 
 after whales when I was a young fellow. 
 Something got wrong with our ship, and we 
 put in at Callao. I wonder if you know 
 where that is." 
 
 " It is in Peru, on the coast," said Carrie, 
 promptly. 
 
 " Right ; now I will go on. From there 
 some of us sailors went to Lima, and were 
 not contented till we had not only a sight 
 of the Andes, but had our feet actually on 
 them, though, of course, we did not go to 
 the top." 
 
 " I should love dearly to see the Andes," 
 said Carrie again, more thoughtfully than 
 before. 
 
 " Why so ? " said Mr. Grant, curiously. 
 
 " Because God made them," said Carrie. 
 " I know lie made everything, but I think I 
 4* 
 
42 UNDER THE PEAR TREE. 
 
 could understand his great power if I saw 
 the mountains piled up so high, and the 
 smoke going up from the volcanoes, and the 
 earth shaking and trembling, as it does some 
 times in those cities by the Andes." 
 
 Mr. Grant looked wonderingly at the 
 child, as he answered, 
 
 " I think such sights would be more likely 
 to frighten you than to give you pleasure." 
 
 " You know we need not be afraid of any 
 thing if God is our friend/' said Carrie, simply. 
 
 " That is very true," said Mr. Grant, so 
 berly ; " but everybody is not so sure that he 
 has God for his friend. There was an earth 
 quake when I was in Lima, only a very 
 slight one, but I confess I felt anything but 
 pleasantly for the time ; and some of our 
 crew, rough fellows, who were not afraid of 
 the worst storm in the ocean, swore they 
 would not set foot on such land as that again 
 if the Captain were to pay them their weight 
 in gold." 
 
SOUTH AMERICA. 43 
 
 " If they swore I don't wonder they were 
 afraid. I never heard anybody swear, but I 
 know it is dreadfully wicked/ 7 said Carrie, 
 very seriously. There was something in 
 her companion's light way of speaking of 
 such a sin that pained her deeply. 
 
 " Well, it is a bad habit, and not an easy 
 one to leave off/ 7 said Mr. Grant, thought 
 fully. 
 
 " Mother says it is hard to leave off any 
 bad habit, but we can if we try, and ask 
 God to help us/ 7 said Carrie. 
 
 The first breakfast bell now rang out its 
 summons, and Carrie hastened in to be in 
 order to appear at the table at the second 
 ringing. Mr. Grant followed more slowly, 
 the late conversation still lingering in his 
 mind. 
 
 Carrie forgot all about her anxiety as to 
 what Mrs. Grant would think of her ging 
 ham apron, in her eagerness to tell her 
 father and mother of Mr. Grant's kind 
 
44 UNDER THE PEAR TREE. 
 
 promise to assist her in her gardening pro 
 ject. Mr. Eaton was well pleased to find 
 his guest inclined for such innocent amuse 
 ment, and at once put him in the way of 
 getting such tools, boards and pipes as would 
 be needed for the proposed undertaking. 
 
 " Mr. Grant has seen the real Andes, and 
 been in a real earthquake, and been in a 
 ship after whales, too," said Carrie, whose 
 morning interview had quite done away with 
 her stiffness before the strangers. 
 
 Mr. Eaton well remembered when a whal 
 ing voyage had been hit upon as the last ex 
 pedient for breaking up young Grant's dissi 
 pated habits, but he kindly refrained from 
 intimating his knowledge of the past. By 
 judicious questioning he drew from his guest 
 much that was valuable about the scenery 
 and climate of the part of South America 
 which he had visited. 
 
 Mr. Grant found himself listened to with 
 respect, and his manner lost much of its off- 
 
SOUTH AMERICA. 45 
 
 hand recklessness as he tried to give a clear 
 account of what he had observed. 
 
 Mrs. Grant seemed quite satisfied to have 
 the conversation monopolized by her hus 
 band, though she occasionally smoothed back 
 her hair or put up her little white hand, as 
 if she were not unwilling to be looked at, 
 though she did not care to talk. 
 
 After breakfast the family drew back from 
 the table for morning prayers. Carrie placed 
 the Bible before her father, and then sat 
 down, while the two respectable servants 
 came in from the kitchen and took their ac 
 customed seats. 
 
 Rache stared about her as if afraid some 
 thing terrible was going to happen. Per 
 haps she feared she was to be reckoned with 
 for her late misdeeds in the kitchen. She 
 soon seemed assured that Jane and Betsy 
 had not come in to testify about the pitcher 
 she had broken, or the pie which she had 
 robbed of its crisp edges. Sinking down 
 
46 UNDER THE PEAK TREE. 
 
 on the floor behind her mistress, she awaited 
 the result of all this preparation. 
 
 Mr. Eaton read the twentieth chapter of 
 Exodus, and then, in a,n earnest prayer, he 
 besought the help of the Holy Spirit for all 
 present, that they might keep the law of 
 God with the loving zeal of those who know 
 that they are accepted through Christ, the 
 Perfect Example and Sufficient Sacrifice. 
 
 Mr. Eaton knew nothing of Carrie's morn 
 ing talk with their visitor, but had he read 
 that visitor's heart, he could not have more 
 wisely worded his prayer, or more judici 
 ously chosen his Scripture selection. 
 
 Too often had profane expressions passed 
 the lips of Mr. Grant, but he had resolved 
 that of this bad habit, at least, he would 
 cure himself, quite as much that he might 
 never wound Carrie's innocent ears, as from 
 a sense of the wickedness of such a breach 
 of God's commandments. 
 
 Carrie's words, "We can leave off any 
 
SOUTH AMERICA. 47 
 
 bad habit if we try, and ask God to help 
 us," was in his mind while her father was 
 praying, and Mr. Grant's heart assented to 
 the petitions, though his lips would not of 
 themselves have uttered them. 
 
 Ah, they act unwisely who shut out the 
 stranger guest from their family prayers. 
 Often has the heart been touched, as some 
 wanderer has knelt with a worshipping cir 
 cle in a Christian home ! 
 
V. 
 
 BARBIE would have been glad to have 
 returned at once to the garden as soon 
 as prayers were over, but her mother 
 called upon her to assist her in putting away 
 the clean clothes just from the wash, and 
 then there were messages to be carried 
 to the kitchen, an errand to do in the vil 
 lage, and the little girl's time was so taken 
 up, that she had but a few moments to her 
 self to read in her own quiet room before 
 the school-bell rang. This was a sore trial 
 of Carrie's patience, simply because she had 
 set her heart on pleasure, rather than in do 
 ing each moment the duty that called upon 
 her. She generally liked to oblige her mo 
 ther, but this morning every such act cost 
 
 (48) 
 
OVERTUEXIXGS. 49 
 
 her an effort ; she remenibcred, however, the 
 old pear tree and the young martyr, and re 
 solved to bear all that came to her. Carrie 
 was making a mistake. She really had 
 nothing to bear, except the consequence of 
 her too earnest desire to make pleasure her 
 occupation. If she had been but full of 
 love and longing to do her duty, she would 
 have had no trouble. There is no better 
 way of filling our lot with little trials, than 
 by starting out in the morning with some 
 set plan of enjoyment which we want to fol 
 low, and then everything that interferes 
 with it is an annoyance. Far better is it to 
 be in the spirit of obedience, ready to do 
 just what God sends us to do ; and so pleas 
 ures will come when least expected, like the 
 little flowers that spring from the clefts of 
 the rocks to cheer the traveller as he climbs 
 the mountain side. Carrie went off to 
 school with the feeling that she had rubbed 
 through a very hard time since breakfast, 
 5 
 
50 UNDER THE PEAR TREE. 
 
 and was glad that she had not shown her 
 annoyance by a single fretful word. 
 
 Mrs. Eaton had not needed words to tell 
 her the mood of her darling, but she had let 
 her work her way through her own strug 
 gles, only helping her by the silent prayer 
 that went up from the mother's loving heart. 
 
 Carrie had only time to prepare herself 
 for dinner, after her return from school, 
 though she longed to have just one peep 
 .at the Andes, by way of giving her an ap 
 petite. 
 
 The afternoon, however, was all before 
 .her, and as soon as she could be excused 
 from the table, she went to get on her 
 garden bonnet and apron, and go post-haste 
 to " South America." Poor little traveller ! 
 -She was not to see the Andes in their beauty. 
 .Destruction had gone in among the minia 
 ture mountains, as if volcanoes, earthquakes 
 ,and tornadoes had been busy doing their 
 work. It was in vain to look for Sorata or 
 
OVERTUKNIXGS. 51 
 
 Chimborazo. They were not to be distin 
 guished from the ignoble heaps of earth 
 about them. The bed of the Amazon was 
 half filled up, and Terra del Fuego had de 
 serted Cape Horn, and taken up its abode 
 at the mouth of the Orinoco. 
 
 Carrie actually burst into tears. All her 
 labor in vain 1 Who could have done the 
 mischief? She was at a loss for a conjec 
 ture. The enemy was no four-footed crea 
 ture, to be forgiven for its very lack of the 
 mind that had helped Carrie to plan her 
 favorite undertaking. No ! it was plain that 
 shovel and hoe had been wielded to cause 
 the terrible destruction. "Who could it 
 be ? " repeated Carrie. " So unkind ! Just 
 as I was ready to put on the powdered mar 
 ble for snow on the tops of the mountains. 
 It is too bad ! " 
 
 " What is too bad ? " said the voice of Mr. 
 Grant, who had his own reasons for repair 
 ing to the unfortunate spot. 
 
52 UNDER THE PEAR TREE. 
 
 Carrie turned her flushed face toward 
 the speaker. Mr. Grant's arms were full of 
 leaden pipes and troughs, through which the 
 Orinoco, La Plata, and Amazon were in 
 tended to flow. 
 
 " Only see, Mr. Grant, what somebody 
 has done ! The Andes are all knocked 
 down, and Terra del Fuego moved clear up 
 here, and my bucket of sand for the sea 
 shore all upset right in the middle of Pata 
 gonia ! It is too bad ! " 
 
 " Indeed it is too bad ! " said Mr. Grant. 
 
 " I can't bear to look at it ! " exclaimed 
 Carrie, as she darted away, ashamed to show 
 before Mr. Grant how thoroughly she was 
 vexed. 
 
 Under the old pear tree she soon found 
 herself seated, and then her head dropped 
 upon her hands, and she had a good hearty 
 cry, as much from anger as from sorrow. 
 
 " It is of no use to cry about it," said Carrie 
 to herself, when the first burst of feeling 
 
OVERTURNINGS. 53 
 
 was over. The currant bushes stood off 
 from the green circle, the pear tree scat 
 tered its shower of blossoms, and Carrie's 
 mind flew back to the moment when she had 
 braced herself against that sturdy old trunk, 
 fancying she was ready to be a martyr, to 
 suffer all for Jesus' sake. 
 
 What was the great trial that had so 
 roused her temper and filled her with dis 
 appointment ? The result of the amusement 
 of a few leisure hours had been overthrown ; 
 work which she could renew on a better 
 plan, and yet she had so utterly lost her self- 
 command, that not even the presence of a 
 stranger could keep her from expressing her 
 anger. Was this bearing patiently the little 
 crosses of her daily life ? Ah, no ! 
 
 Carrie looked about her, and thought of 
 her pleasant home, her kind parents, her 
 numberless blessings, and deep shame over 
 came her that such a trifle should have had 
 power so to annoy her. 
 
54 UNDER THE PEAR TREE. 
 
 There, under the old pear tree, she asked 
 the present Saviour to forgive her anger 
 and impatience, and to send her more of his 
 own sweet submissive spirit. 
 
 Carrie jumped up, saying to herself, " I 
 will go at once and tell Mr. Grant that I 
 am sorry I was so vexed, and that I don't 
 mean to mind it, but begin right away to 
 make it over again, better than before.' 7 
 
 Instinctively Carrie hastened to the spot 
 where she had left Mr. Grant, though she 
 had no reason to suppose that he was linger 
 ing to mourn over the ruin of the geographi 
 cal garden. 
 
 Mr. Grant had done more than exclaim 
 at the mischief; he had stooped down to 
 examine the marks of two small feet that 
 he found in the soft earth. Beyond the 
 grass plat, in the centre of which South 
 America had been located, were the vege- 
 tabje beds, made soft and smooth by the 
 gardener's busy rake. Across that even 
 
OVERTURNINGS. 55 
 
 surface those same small feet had stepped 
 remorselessly, leaving deep tracks as if the 
 retreat had been made in haste. With the 
 keen look of a policeman, Mr. Grant fol 
 lowed these traces as they here and there 
 appeared, until he came to a thick clump 
 of lilac bushes, quite on the opposite side 
 of the garden. From behind this screen, a 
 pair of wide open black eyes were watching 
 him. As he drew nearer and nearer, a 
 small figure jumped from side to side, and 
 at length Rache stood out openly before him. 
 
 "0, Massa!" she exclaimed, "I didn't 
 do nothin'. Don't whip me. I never went 
 near them Andes I" 
 
 Mr. Grant took her sternly by the arm, 
 and led her to the scene which had so 
 lately been Carrie's pride. 
 
 " I didn't ! I didn't ! " screamed Rache, 
 more and more vehemently, as she ap 
 proached the spot. 
 
 " I'll teach you how to meddle, you mis- 
 
56 UNDER THE PEAR TREE. 
 
 chief-maker I" said Mr. Grant, looking 
 about angrily for a switch. 
 
 Not a switch, but Carrie's imploring face, 
 met his eyes. 
 
 " please, Mr. Grant, don't whip her," 
 said Carrie, eagerly. " I don't believe she 
 knew what harm she was doing. I am 
 quite ashamed of myself that I was so 
 vexed just now. It was not right. I'll tell 
 you what I mean to do ; I am going to fix it 
 all over better than it was before, and 
 Rache shall help me, if you will let her, and 
 I will tell her just what I am doing. You 
 are sorry, I know you are, Rache." 
 
 Mr. Grant looked into Carrie's face ; 
 there was something in its sweet, cheerful 
 expression that calmed his anger, and drew 
 him lovingly towards his little friend. 
 Rache opened her eyes even wider than 
 usual. When she had seen Carrie coming 
 up, she thought her doom sealed, and her 
 whipping sure. This free forgiveness she 
 
OVERTURNIXGS. 57 
 
 did not understand. It so thoroughly con 
 fused her, that sl*e blubbered out, " There 
 warn't no gold there, nor silver, nor no 
 such things as massa said. I never found 
 nothin' ; I never took nothin' ; there 
 warn't nothin' but dirt there." 
 
 Carrie could not help laughing, as she un 
 derstood at once what had prompted Rache 
 to her thorough exploration of the minia 
 ture South America. The ignorant crea 
 ture had heard her master talking at the 
 table of the Andes, and thought the treas 
 ures of gold which he had spoken, were 
 hidden under the heaps of earth that Car 
 rie had been so carefully raising. Half 
 from curiosity, and half from the desire to 
 pilfer, which seemed her second nature, 
 Rache had plied hoe and spade to find the 
 buried treasure. 
 
 " These are only play Andes, not the real, 
 big, big mountains," said Carrie, conde 
 scending to explain. 
 
58 UNDER THE PEAR TREE. 
 
 Mr. Grant's hand was still holding tight 
 ly on to Radio's arm, bul he now relaxed 
 his hold, and said sternly, " Go in to your 
 mistress, and if you are found in any such 
 mischief again, you will not get off so easily. 
 You are to thank Miss Carrie that you miss 
 a whipping this time ! " 
 
 " Tankee, Miss Carr ! " said Raclie, drop 
 ping an odd little curtsey, while there was 
 a lively blink in the corner of her eye, that 
 looked like any thing but penitence. 
 
 " I am going to begin all over again," 
 said Carrie, cheerily, " and I shall fix my 
 seashore first. The grass is for the ocean ; 
 it waves, you know, in the wind. All 
 round the coast I am going to scatter this 
 sand with the pebbles in it, and those little 
 flat stones are for the stoney plains of 
 Patagonia. I picked them up in the play 
 ground at recess to-day. it will be splen 
 did!" 
 
 Carrie went vigorously to work. Mr. 
 
OVEKTURNINGS. 59 
 
 Grant looked on for a moment in silence, 
 and then he said quickly, " What made you 
 change your mind so suddenly, when you 
 went away with those big tears in your 
 eyes?' 7 
 
 Carrie looked full into the inquirer's 
 face, as she said frankly : 
 
 "I cried hard under the pear tree, and 
 then I happened to think that it was wrong 
 to take little trials so, that I ought to bear 
 them patiently, and be very thankful that I 
 had no worse sent to me. I am very, very 
 sorry I was so angry. I was coming to 
 tell you so when I found you here with 
 Rachel" 
 
 " Who taught you so well about bearing 
 troubles ? " asked Mr. Grant. 
 
 " Mother teaches me every thing good," 
 said Carrie. " She says our little troubles 
 are steps to a great ladder that leads us up 
 to heaven ; that is, if we take them patient 
 ly, because our dear Saviour sends them to 
 
60 UNDER THE PEAR TREE. 
 
 us, and every one we bear as we ought, 
 takes us up higher, and nearer to Christ." 
 
 " And what about the great troubles ? " 
 asked Mr. Grant, thoughtfully. 
 
 " Mother says they are long steps on the 
 ladder, where the bars are far apart, and 
 hard to climb. When we come to those, 
 she says we must trust Christ to help us, 
 and it will be just as if he had put his hands 
 under our arms and lifted us up, and we 
 shall find afterwards that our great trouble 
 has brought us ever so much nearer heaven. 
 She told me that when I felt so badly when 
 grandma died, and I tried her way, and I 
 know what she said was true." 
 
 As Carrie paused, she looked very earn 
 estly at Mr. Grant. 
 
 " I'll come by-and-by and help you about 
 your rivers," said Mr. Grant, turning away, 
 and wandering off to another part of the 
 garden. 
 
 Mr. Grant wanted a few moments of quiet 
 
OVERTURNIXGS. 61 
 
 thought. Light-hearted as he seemed, he 
 deeply felt his present position. Without 
 means and with no career open before him, 
 the world seemed very dark to him. He 
 had no home for the young wife he so dearly 
 loved, and even her presence at times was 
 painful to him, it so reminded him of his in 
 ability so provide for her as he desired. 
 Through the influence of a friend he had 
 obtained the clerkship at Washington from 
 which he was now removed. That friend 
 no longer had the power to serve him, and 
 but for Mr. Eaton's timely invitation, he 
 woiild not have known where to find a home, 
 without the painful consciousness of forming 
 debts he might never pay. Mr. Grant had 
 come to one of the "great troubles" of which 
 Carrie had spoken, but it had never struck 
 him that it was to be borne in the way she 
 described. 
 
 From afar in the past rose to his mind the 
 teachings of his own mother, her prayers at 
 6 
 
62 UNDER THE PEAR TREE. 
 
 his bedside, her words of blessing as her 
 thin hands were laid upon his head. A chord 
 had been touched in the stranger's heart, 
 would it bring forth heavenly music? Across 
 the garden he could see the busy little girl 
 repairing the mischief that had been wrought. 
 Why should not he so labor to repair his 
 broken fortunes. Why should he yield to 
 the despair that was threatening him, even 
 in the midst of his lightness and seeming 
 mirth? 
 
 Such and more serious questionings throng 
 ed the mind of Mr. Grant, as he paced up 
 and down the long path in the centre of the 
 garden. 
 
 Often had a dear old lady walked there 
 to and fro among her flowers. Sweet had 
 been her meditations, precious her commu 
 nion with the unseen Saviour by her side. 
 Many had been her prayers for the pilgrims 
 of earth who should tread those pathways 
 
OVERTURNINGS. 63 
 
 when she should be at rest. Had that young 
 stranger come hither to share the blessing 
 that lingers about the dwelling place of 
 every aged saint ? 
 
VI. 
 
 F Carrie Eaton had had her way, she 
 would have lived in a land of per 
 petual drought. The day never seemed 
 to come on which she was glad to see the 
 rain, and the pattering of drops on the win 
 dows was too often followed by a disagree 
 able murmuring and a flow of salt tears 
 from our little friend. Ah, if the grumblers 
 were listened to, the poor fields and flowers 
 would fare but ill, and decay and desolation 
 would take the place of greenness and 
 beauty. We may well lift up our hearts in 
 thankfulness that the clouds drop their bless 
 ings in spite of the disappointments of pleas 
 ure lovers, and the complainings of those 
 who would have perpetual sunshine. 
 
 Something like this Mrs. Eaton was say- 
 
 (64) 
 
THE LITTLE HEATHEN. 65 
 
 ing to Carrie on the second morning after 
 the arrival of the much talked of guests. 
 Carrie had a thousand reasons, she said, why 
 she did not want it to rain, but on close ques 
 tioning the ciphers dropped off very rapidly, 
 and the one came near standing all alone. 
 However, Carrie managed to muster several 
 reasons which really were to her very strong. 
 She did not want to stay away from school, 
 as her lost lessons could never be made up. 
 She hated to be irregular, etc., and then 
 there was her garden, the sea-shore just com 
 pleted, and the process of raising the moun 
 tains ready to be begun anew in earnest. 
 Yet it was very hard to bear a rainy day ; 
 particularly hard, Carrie felt it, as Mr. 
 Grant walked off to the study with her 
 father, and she was left for the morning with 
 her mother and the young wife. 
 
 Carrie had somehow conceived a dislike 
 to Mrs. Grant, possibly because the little 
 lady had taken very little notice of her, and 
 
66 UNDER THE PEAR TREE. 
 
 Carrie being an only child, was accustomed 
 to particular kindness and consideration. 
 Mrs. Grant seemed indeed to be in a listless 
 state, indifferent to every body and every 
 thing about her, always excepting her hus 
 band, whose entrance was sure to bring a 
 bright smile to her face. She missed the 
 gayety of the city, she missed the boarding- 
 house gossip, and the chat about dress to 
 which she had been accustomed. She had 
 not realized that she had been leading an 
 idle life. Her time had been taken up with 
 going from room to room, or in shopping 
 and visiting, so that she had not thought of 
 the possibility of regular occupation. 
 
 In the quietness of Mrs. Eaton's home, 
 Mrs. Grant felt herself out of place. While 
 her kind hostess sat .beside her with her 
 busy needle in her fingers, and her pleasant 
 face turned now and then kindly toward 
 her, Mrs. Grant did not feel quite at ease 
 with her helpless little hands lying crossed 
 
THE LITTLE HEATHEN. 67 
 
 upon the embroidered skirt appearing be 
 tween the folds of her open wrapper. 
 
 When Carrie began to murmur about the- 
 weather, Mrs. Grant's sympathies were with 
 her. The weary guest fancied that the 
 laugour and discomfort she experienced 
 were attributable to the rain, quite forget 
 ting that she had suffered from precisely the 
 same feelings the day before. She listened, 
 as Mrs. Eaton kindly talked to Carrie, and 
 was much surprised when the little girl 
 frankly said, " I am sorry I fretted about 
 the rain, mother ; I see it was not right. I 
 mean to be as cheerful as I can all day, so 
 you must keep me busy to help me to hold 
 to my resolution." 
 
 Carrie put her little chair beside her mo 
 ther, and soon her fingers were moving to 
 and fro in a way that proved that she was 
 no stranger to the needle, though their ac 
 quaintance had not ripened into friendship. 
 Mrs. Eaton tried to draw Mrs. Grant into 
 
68 UNDER THE PEAR TREE. 
 
 some pleasant conversation, but something 
 seemed to be disturbing the stranger's 
 mind ; at length she said, " I have not 
 any work with me, I am not much used to 
 sewing." 
 
 There was a wistful, unsettled look about 
 the speaker. Carrie knew very well the 
 miseries of idleness, and she ventured to say, 
 " Maybe Mrs. Grant would read aloud to us. 
 Would you, Mrs. Grant? my teacher lent 
 me a book yesterday, which she said she was 
 sure mamma would like. Shall I get it ? " 
 
 " Yes, I shouldn't mind reading out," said 
 Mrs. Grant, with a look of relief. 
 
 Carrie sprang away up stairs ; she was 
 sure there was a rustling in her little room 
 the moment before she opened the door, yet 
 there was no one in it, at least Carrie saw 
 no one. Rache had slipped under the bed 
 in a hurry, not a vestige of her skirt was in 
 sight, and her black eyes peering through 
 the fringe of the spread only saw Carrie 
 
THE LITTLE HEATHEN. 69 
 
 come in in a hurry and go away with a lit 
 tle red book in her hand. 
 
 The story opened in a sprightly and at 
 tractive manner, and Mrs. Grant was an 
 agreeable reader, so that the party in the 
 breakfast-room soon wore a very cheerful 
 and easy look as they were gathered in a 
 group near the long window. 
 
 Mrs. Grant was accustomed to novel-read 
 ing, and had her own views about certain 
 matchless heroes and persecuted heroines, 
 but to such simple stories as she held in her 
 hand she was almost a stranger. There was 
 something in the nature and truth of the 
 descriptions that charmed her, and made her 
 feel at once at home among the characters 
 portrayed. The pure, the true, and the holy 
 were so inwrought with the whole narrative, 
 that there was no escaping the pious teach 
 ing in every page. Mrs. Grant was inter 
 ested and moved, she could hardly tell why. 
 The sermons to which she had lately listened 
 
70 UNDER THE PEAR TREE. 
 
 had been prepared for men deep-thinking 
 men and little Mrs. Grant, in her butterfly 
 garments, had been glad to shrink into a 
 corner of the pew for a quiet doze, while 
 the clergyman set forth arguments and pro 
 cesses of reasoning quite above her compre 
 hension. Now she found her conscience 
 aroused, and plain, simple lessons of duty 
 forced home upon her. 
 
 Mrs. Grant had but the mind and feelings 
 of a child, and now she had found a kind of 
 reading that spoke to her very heart. 
 
 " Carrie," said Mrs. Eaton, after a half- 
 hour of the reading, " Carrie, I have some 
 thing for you to do up-stairs ; so we shall 
 have to leave Mrs. Grant to herself for a 
 little while if she will excuse us." 
 
 " I shall not be lonely if you won't mind 
 my reading on," said the lady, with an ap 
 proving look at the little book. 
 
 Carrie had felt inclined the moment before 
 to rebel against this interruption of their 
 
THE LITTLE HEATHEN. 71 
 
 pleasant occupation, but all such thoughts 
 gave way to a sudden gush of pleasure. 
 While she was folding up her work, she was 
 silently asking her Heavenly Father to send 
 his Spirit to the young wife, and to teach 
 her holy things while her eyes were in the 
 book in which she seemed so much inter 
 ested. " If it had not rained we should not 
 have had the reading, and then, who knows 
 how much good might have never been 
 done." So thought Carrie, and she was 
 more than ever ashamed of the discontent 
 to which she had yielded at the sight of the 
 storm. 
 
 The work which Mrs. Eaton had in store 
 for Carrie was nothing more or less than a 
 thorough looking over of her drawers, to be 
 followed by such mending as the various 
 articles might require. The mother encour 
 aged her little daughter by telling her that 
 she was going to be at the same business, 
 and soon they would be dropping their con- 
 
72 UNDER THE PEAK TREE. 
 
 tributions into the great mending-basket 
 that was placed between the doors to the 
 two chambers. 
 
 Carrie was in no mood for murmuring. 
 She closed the door to her small, quiet room, 
 turned the key very gently, and then knelt 
 down to ask God to help her to take more 
 pleasantly the little trials and annoyances 
 of every hour, and to realize that every 
 such effort is acceptable to the meek and 
 loving Saviour. 
 
 Carrie had hardly done her prayer, when 
 she was conscious of a deep, unnatural 
 breathing near her. She was startled for 
 the moment, as there seemed no one in the 
 room. Lifting up the bed-spread, she* saw 
 Rache crouched down, and with her hands 
 clasped over her mouth to ensure perfect si 
 lence. Her lungs would have their use, and 
 the long gasps were the louder for the effort 
 it was necessary for her to make to restrain 
 them. 
 
THE LITTLE HEATHEN. 73 
 
 " What are you doing here, Rache ? " said 
 Carrie, quickly. 
 
 There was something very painful to Car 
 rie in the idea of being watched in such a 
 moment of retirement. 
 
 Rache gave a low giggle, but did not of 
 fer to leave her hiding-place. 
 
 " I want you to go out of my room," said 
 Carrie, with all the dignity she could com 
 mand. 
 
 Rache still remained motionless., only an*- 
 swering by a grin. 
 
 " I'll tell Mrs. Grant," said Carrie, mov 
 ing quickly towards the door, and unlocking 
 it. At that moment she remembered how 
 she had left Mrs. Grant occupied. Should 
 she interrupt her ? Should she procure for 
 Rache the whipping with which her master 
 had threatened her ? 
 
 Carrie stood with her hand irresolutely 
 on the lock. Rache, meanwhile, managed 
 to thrust under the bedding, the handful of" 
 7 
 
74 UNDER THE PEAR TREE. 
 
 things which she had covered with her dress. 
 Ribbons, pins, dolls, clothing, and a cake of 
 soap were promiscuously huddled together 
 between the mattress and the bedstead, and 
 then Rache was ready to leave her retreat. 
 
 " Ise goin', Miss Carr Ise jes a gittin 7 
 up," said Rache, standing on her feet in the 
 little room. " I ant done nothin', but jes lie 
 down under Miss Carr's bed." 
 
 " You go now, Rache, like a good girl, 
 and I won't tell Mrs. Grant," said Carrie, 
 in w'hat she meant to have been a very con 
 descending manner. 
 
 " Tank 7 ee, Miss Carr," said Rache, with 
 one of her queer bobbing courtesies, and a 
 mysterious twinkle of her round eyes. 
 
 Carrie soon had good reason to suspect 
 that Rache had explored other parts of the 
 room, than the hiding-place where she was 
 found. There was not a bag or a box in 
 Carrie's drawers that had not been thor 
 oughly Tiimmaged, and as to her favorite 
 
THE LITTLE HEATHEN. 75 
 
 doll, Miss Fanny, she seemed just recover 
 ing from an attack of malignant small pox. 
 Waxen face, neck and arms were all scarred 
 over, where some mischievous nails had 
 nipped out little morsels with industrious 
 zeal. Never was a fine complexion more 
 suddenly ruined. Miss Fanny's hair, too, 
 had been under an unskillful barber, and her 
 stiff, glossy curls were transformed into a 
 frizzed mass, much in the style of Eache's 
 own wool. Yes, there, in the midst of the 
 general confusion, Rache had attempted a 
 braid, in close imitation of her own. 
 
 Carrie did not know whether to laugh or 
 to cry, her misfortune had come in so ridicu 
 lous a form. " Mother ! Mother ! do look 
 at Fanny 1" she exclaimed, as she burst into 
 her mother's room. " See what Rache must 
 have done to her ! Indeed it is too bad ! I 
 wish she would go home to-morrow. She 
 has ransacked all my things, and turned ev 
 erything upside down, and then when I 
 
76 UNDER THE PEAR TREE. 
 
 found her under my bed, she said she had 
 not done anything at all, ' but jes lie under 
 Miss Carr's bed.' " 
 
 Carrie had no little brothers and sisters 
 to meddle with her possessions, and it was 
 quite a new thing to her to have her rights 
 so invaded. Not that she was the most par 
 ticular person in the world ; but she liked to 
 do her own rummaging, and wear out her 
 own playthings in a lawful way. 
 
 Her mother did not laugh at Carrie's 
 annoyance, though Miss Fanny was droll to 
 look upon. Very kindly Mrs. Eaton soothed 
 her little daughter, until she thought she 
 was quite composed, but Carrie suddenly 
 broke out, " If I were sure this was all ; but 
 how can I tell what I shall have to bear 
 from her. dear, how pleasant and quiet 
 it used to be when only you and father and 
 I were here ! " 
 
 " Carrie," said her mother, gently, " I know 
 you respect and admire the courage of the 
 
THE LITTLE HEATHEN. 77 
 
 good missionaries who have left their own 
 homes to go into far away foreign countries, to 
 teach the poor heathen about the Lord Jesus 
 Christ. You have thought it wonderful that 
 they should be willing to risk the terrible 
 fevers of hot climates, and the long dark 
 winters of the cold ones. You have pitied 
 them in the midst of reptiles or wild beasts, 
 or suffering for the want of the very necessa 
 ries of life. I wonder if you ever thought 
 of what it must be to live among a people 
 who have no idea of right and wrong, to 
 whom it seems far more natural to lie and 
 steal than to be honest and truthful. Ah, 
 my dear child, many missionaries have been 
 robbed of every loose article of clothing, 
 every pencil, book or paper, by the ignorant 
 people they have gone to teach. Yet they 
 have borne all, hoping by love and patience 
 to bring these poor creatures to a know 
 ledge of the only Lord. Now, darling, I 
 believe you love our Lord Jesus, and want 
 
78 UNDER THE PEAR TREE. 
 
 to do something for him. Suppose you con 
 sider that Rache is a little heathen, one for 
 whom you have so often prayed. You have 
 "been very willing to give your pennies to 
 send Bibles to the heathen far away. Let 
 me see if you can give patience to this little 
 heathen, who has come among us. It is very 
 plain that no one has ever taught her to 
 love and fear God, and try to do his will. 
 Perhaps it is to learn this blessed lesson 
 that she is sent to us. Perhaps the Lord 
 Jesus has given you this poor lost lamb to 
 lead into his fold. "Will you try ? " 
 
 " I don't know how, mother, she is so queer. 
 She is not like anybody I ever saw before," 
 said Carrie, despondingly. 
 
 " You can at least pray for her, and try 
 to be kind and gentle to her, and perhaps 
 the way may be opened for you to do her 
 good. Try to look upon her as a little 
 heathen child, to whom you are willing to 
 be a young missionary. You can at least 
 
THE LITTLE HEATHEN. 79 
 
 speak her language. She can understand 
 you when you talk to her, and she can be 
 influenced by a faithful example. " Go ye 
 into all the world and preach the Gospel to 
 every creature," was our Lord's last com 
 mand. You cannot go into foreign countries 
 as the apostles did, and as the missionaries 
 do now ; but will you not try to do what 
 you can for this little ignorant child, who is 
 here under our roof? You are not called 
 to face danger and leave your home and 
 friends, but if you give your ' mite ' cheerfully, 
 and do your duty faithfully, you will not 
 lose your reward." 
 
 " I will try, mother," said Carrie, earnestly; 
 " but indeed, mother, I think I should be as 
 poor a missionary as a martyr." 
 
 " Remember, darling, you are not to be 
 judged for being unfit for duties not laid 
 upon you. Bear the trials that are sent to 
 you, do the duties put in your way, and he 
 who gives the martyr his crown, will have 
 
80 UNDER THE PEAR TREE. 
 
 his great, his exceeding great reward for 
 you." 
 
 Carrie went silently to her own room. 
 Rache was not bodily there, but she was 
 present to Carrie's mind, and as she bowed 
 down to pray, it was for Rache, the little 
 heathen, her prayers ascended ; it was for 
 strength to lead this lost child aright, that 
 her earnest petitions were offered. 
 
VII. 
 
 fHREE weeks had passed swiftly away 
 since the arrival of Mr. and Mrs. 
 Grant at Carrie's home. The young 
 wife was beginning to find the pleasure of 
 industry, though she had yet to acquire a 
 taste for being useful. She was making her 
 first attempt at embroidery, and already a 
 dismal-looking greyish-white dog appeared 
 on her canvas, with his two black eyes pain 
 fully squinting at the world opening before 
 him. Mrs. Eaton kindly gave her interest 
 to the new undertaking, and was ready to 
 notice the progress of the work, and give 
 what praise she could to the execution, as 
 often as she was called upon for such 
 friendly favors. 
 
 Mr. Grant, meanwhile, was spending 
 
 (81) 
 
82 UNDER THE PEAR TREE. 
 
 much of his time with his kind host ; but 
 Carrie was astonished to find her father 
 having so much time at his command, and 
 ever ready to ride or walk with the son of 
 his old friend. She did not know how far 
 into the night that father had to be bend 
 ing over his books and papers to make up 
 for the hours given to his guest. Mr. Ea 
 ton had undertaken a good work, and he 
 was determined to carry it through. 
 
 Carrie's interest in Mr. Grant increased 
 every day. She had many kind offices for 
 which to thank the stranger, and not the 
 least of these was his effective assistance to 
 her in carrying out her darling project. 
 
 The Andes now rose up snow-crowned, 
 (i. e., tipped with white marble dust,) and 
 the volcanoes, though generally quiet, occa 
 sionally poured out alarming quantities of 
 smoke from the tin boxes ingeniously con 
 cealed within them, and the fumes of burn 
 ing cloth were perceptible far beyond Cape 
 
THE WOODS. 83 
 
 Horn. The pepper grass, mignonette and 
 "balsams, that were to represent the dense 
 forests of Brazil, were coming up so thick 
 that the sun had scarcely a chance to peep 
 at the brown earth on the spot where they 
 had been so lavishly sown. The water 
 works were completed, that having been 
 Mr. Grant's special department, though he 
 made himself generally useful in all. But 
 one thing was needed, the winding leaden 
 troughs, which served as beds for the rivers, 
 were to be lined with moss, and then Ama 
 zon, Orinoco and La Plata were to pour 
 their torrents along to represent the riv 
 ers of South America, without even a fur 
 row marking the course of the lesser 
 streams. 
 
 A Saturday afternoon had been chosen for 
 Carrie's trip to the woods to get the requi 
 site quantity of moss. Mr. Grant was to 
 be her companion, and very happy she look 
 ed as he held her by the hand, and playfully 
 
84 UNDER THE PEAR TREE. 
 
 shouldered her basket as he gave the order, 
 " Forward, march ! " 
 
 They soon found there was an addition to 
 their company a recruit who had not had 
 the captain's permission to join them. This 
 was no other than Rache, who seemed to 
 have a mysterious delight in always keeping 
 Carrie in sight, and watching all her move 
 ments. If Carrie sat down with her Bible 
 under the old pear tree, Rache was sure to 
 be peeping at her from among the currant 
 bushes. If the little girl shut herself in 
 her own room, and firmly locked her door, 
 Rache's eye was at the key-hole, vigilantly 
 inspecting the proceedings going on with 
 in. 
 
 Poor Carrie was often tempted to ex 
 claim, what must be the trials of the mis 
 sionaries if one domestic heathen is such a 
 pest! Thus far, her efforts for Rache's 
 benefit had been most unsuccessful. If Car 
 rie tried to read or talk to her, she was 
 
THE WOODS. 85 
 
 met either by her unmeaning giggle, or by 
 such odd answers as set the young teacher 
 laughing in the midst of her grave dis 
 course. 
 
 Carrie was particularly disappointed at 
 seeing Rache add herself to the moss- 
 gathering party, as she had lately had seve 
 ral pleasant talks with Mr. Grant about 
 heavenly things, and she feared the presence 
 of such a companion would irritate the not 
 over patient master, and make such conver 
 sation impossible. Carrie, however, con 
 quered her annoyance, and inwardly asked 
 her- heavenly Friend to help her to remem 
 ber that her Saviour was walking with her 
 by the way, and to make the afternoon 
 profitable to the little heathen as well as to 
 her master. Bobbing backwards and for 
 wards went Rache ; now in front and now 
 in the rear of Mr. Grant and Carrie. At 
 one moment she came up with her hands 
 full of most unattractive specimens of moss ; 
 8 
 
86 UNDER THE PEAR TREE. 
 
 at another, she was climbing a young tree 
 and swinging from its topmost branch like 
 a squirrel. 
 
 " Here is a pleasant place, Carrie ; you 
 had better sit down and rest awhile," said 
 Mr. Grant, pointing out a great rock at the 
 foot of some tall trees. Carrie took her 
 seat, and both were soon occupied in ex 
 ploring the treasures of the basket, while 
 Rache perched herself on a limb above 
 their heads, and amused herself with using 
 her sharp teeth to strip the bark from a 
 branch near her. 
 
 " If I were a queen," said Carrie, " I'd 
 have a bower, with everything beautiful in 
 it that could be found. The carpet should 
 all be of this rich, green moss, and the cur 
 tains of wild vines that blossomed all the 
 year, roses should look in at the windows, 
 and lilies of the valley should hide in every 
 dark corner. how beautiful I would have 
 it!" 
 
THE WOODS. 87 
 
 " I am afraid even a queen would have to 
 let the mosquitoes in at the windows, and 
 risk the hiding of a snake in the thick moss/ 7 
 said Mr. Grant, with a mischievous smile. 
 
 Carrie looked up very soberly, as she an 
 swered, " I suppose in this world there can't 
 be any perfect place, either in a bower or a 
 palace. But, Mr. Grant, it will be beautiful 
 in heaven, when we walk the golden streets 
 and hear the sound of the river of the water 
 of life. What lovely things we shall see up 
 there ! " and Carrie pointed toward the 
 clear blue sky. 
 
 " I suppose it is not much to you that there 
 will be no sorrow there ? " said Mr. Grant, 
 taking the grave tone of his little companion. 
 
 " 0, yes ; no sorrow and no sickness, no 
 night, no sin, no death, no parting. That is 
 what grandmother used to say, and now she 
 lias gone to the beautiful land ! " Carrie 
 looked up into the far off sky, and was silent 
 a few moments. 
 
88 UNDER THE PEAR TREE. 
 
 " It must be first rate there," said Rache, 
 making her comments from her perch above. 
 " Where did you say, Miss Carr ? " 
 
 " Up there, in God's home ! " said Carrie, 
 reverently. 
 
 "And your ladder of self-denial leads 
 that way ? " said Mr. Grant. 
 
 " So mother says. But she says, if we 
 were to reach the very gates of heaven we 
 could not enter in if our Saviour had not 
 opened it for us. She says, the best ladder 
 will all crumble away, and seem worth noth 
 ing to us then, for we shall know that only 
 for Christ's sake we enter in." 
 
 " Ah, Miss Carrie, you little realize what 
 it is to have such a mother," said Mr. Grant, 
 warmly. 
 
 The conversation now wandered off to 
 other matters, and Carrie was in the midst 
 of describing the party her grandmother had 
 had on her eightieth birth-day, when there 
 was a loud scream from the top of the tree. 
 
THE WOODS. 89 
 
 " I can't get up there ! It's just as far off 
 as it was! Dear, deary-di-dumpkin deary 
 me ! " 
 
 Mr. Grant and Carrie looked up and saw 
 Raclie at the top of the tall tree over their 
 heads. Up the slender branches she had 
 made her way, meaning to climb to the 
 heaven of which Carrie had spoken, and 
 now, in her disappointment, the sky that had 
 seemed to rest on those feathery topmost 
 branches was grandly reaching far above 
 her. 
 
 Rache's disappointment changed to para 
 lyzing fear, as she turned her glance from 
 the soft, white clouds to the ground below. 
 If she was not nearer heaven, she was far 
 indeed from earth. The scream she sent 
 forth rang through the woods and startled 
 every living thing. 
 
 " Oh, Mass Grant ! Mass ! " 
 
 " Come down very carefully, Rache. Keep 
 looking up, and come down backwards," 
 8* 
 
90 UNDER THE PEAR TREE. 
 
 shouted Mr. Grant. " The branches will bear 
 you. Come down quietly, like a good girl." 
 
 Like a lifeless creature Rache crouched 
 motionless among the nodding branches, no 
 persuasion or threats could induce her to move. 
 
 " I must go up for her/' said Mr. Grant, 
 throwing aside his coat. " I am afraid she 
 will get dizzy and fall." 
 
 " 0, Mr. Grant ! You can't. The limbs 
 won't bear you. Please don't try. Let us 
 see if something else cannot be done," urged 
 Carrie. 
 
 " I dare not wait another minute," said 
 Mr. Grant ; and he was soon far up the tree, 
 while Carrie watched him with tears in her 
 eyes and prayer in her heart. 
 
 The upper limbs bent beneath his weight 
 as he rested but for an instant on each, pass 
 ing swiftly on like a skillful skater gliding 
 over the thin ice. Eache's hand was in his 
 at last, and slowly he began the descent. 
 The slender boughs which had borne his 
 
THE WOODS. 91 
 
 hasty tread bent and cracked beneath his 
 firmer and more cautious movements. But 
 half the difficult descent was made when 
 Mr. Grant placed his foot on a dead branch. 
 There was a sudden crash. He dropped 
 Eache's hand and caught at a slender bough 
 near him. It broke beneath his grasp, and 
 he fell headlong from the tree. 
 
 Carrie held her breath, fearing that he 
 would strike the rock upon which she sat. 
 
 On the mossy ground he dropped heavily. 
 No groan came from his white lips, no ges 
 ture of pain stirred his limbs. Like one 
 dead he lay in silence, while Carrie bent 
 over him in an agony of distress. 
 
 Rache forgot her fear when she saw what 
 had happened to her master, and coming 
 down the tree as swiftly as a wild-cat, she 
 reached his side. With a terrible wail she 
 began to bemoan his misfortune, but no idea 
 of help seemed to enter her bewildered head. 
 
 Carrie at once thought of going to the 
 
92 UXDER THE PEAR TREE. 
 
 nearest farm-house, but she could not bear 
 to leave her friend in such a condition, alone 
 with Rache. 
 
 At this moment she heard the welcome 
 sound of wheels on the road close by. The 
 strong-handed carter found it no difficult 
 undertaking to lay the slender youth in 
 his empty wagon, and then helping Carrie 
 and Rache to a place at his side, he drove 
 carefully toward Mr. Eaton's. 
 
 When the poor little wife saw the sense 
 less form of her husband, her shrieks were 
 terrible. She wrung her small hands and 
 bemoaned herself in an agony of terror, and 
 when he was laid upon the bed in her own 
 room, she flitted around him the very image 
 of distress. Yet even in the midst of sor 
 row she did not forget to loose her long 
 dark hair, that it might float around her in 
 the confusion that became the occasion. 
 
 What a strange thing is human vanity ! 
 
VIII. 
 
 PRAIN fever was the consequence of 
 Mr. Grant's terrible fall. Though 
 his little wife perched beside him on 
 the bed for hours together, he but turned 
 his eyes languidly towards her. Though 
 she had tried to wash away the traces of 
 her tears, and to dress in a style which 
 pleased him best, he had no looks of admira 
 tion for her now. She even doubted if he 
 knew her face on which he had looked so 
 fondly. 
 
 This was a dreary time for Carrie. The 
 house was hushed to perfect stillness, not a 
 skip or a song was to be tolerated, and in 
 truth Carrie had no heart for any such signs 
 of cheerfulness. The solemn thought was 
 ever in her mind that Mr. Grant might soon 
 
94 UNDER THE PEAK TREE. 
 
 be in the unseen world, might soon be 
 called to his last account. How she wished 
 that she could remember words of his that 
 would make her sure, that when his eyes 
 closed on this world they would open on 
 the brightness of eternal glory ! How dif 
 ferent had been her feelings when her dear 
 grandmother had lain in that same room, 
 peacefully awaiting the summons that should 
 bid her see her Saviour face to face ! 
 
 Carrie could but hide her tearful eyes as 
 she knelt to pray for the sick man in the 
 secresy of her own quiet chamber. 
 
 There was another name that daily 
 mingled in Carrie's prayers, even that of 
 little Rache. The poor creature seemed 
 perfectly stunned by the illness of her mas 
 ter. Mrs. Grant gave her up at last as ut 
 terly unmanageable, and left her to have 
 her own way. 
 
 Beside the door of the sick room Rache 
 crouched day and night, whether sleeping 
 
SICKNESS. 95 
 
 or waking no one could tell. She seemed 
 more like a faithful dog under like circum 
 stances than a human being. She would 
 not leave her post even to take her meals, 
 and often the plate heaped with food which 
 Carrie placed beside her was left untouched 
 for hours. The family became accustomed 
 to the dark object cowering in the hall, and 
 so day by day Radio watched and waited 
 for some word of good cheer. Her cheeks 
 were growing wan and wasted, and her 
 great eyes stared out from the depth into 
 which they were sinking. She was evidently 
 pining away, yet even the severest threats 
 could not drive her from the spot she had 
 chosen. 
 
 Carrie had gone to bed one night weary 
 with the running to and fro on the stairs, 
 which had been her part of the nursing. 
 Was it fatigue that made her sleep so rest 
 less? No, there was certainly some one 
 now laying hold of her hand, now touching 
 
96 UNDER THE PEAR TREE. 
 
 her forehead, as if wishing to rouse her and 
 yet not daring to speak to her. 
 
 Carrie's eyes opened at last, and she 
 started with a feeling of terror as she saw 
 in the moonlight a figure sitting on the foot 
 of her bed, and evidently drawing back the 
 hand that had first been laid upon her brow. 
 Carrie rose up and rubbed her eyes. Her 
 first impulse was to call her mother, but the 
 remembrance of the pale, weary face of that 
 mother whom she had bidden her "good 
 night," deterred her. A long earnest look 
 at the figure assured her that it was poor 
 Rache. "Rache!" said Carrie, in a low 
 voice. 
 
 Rache's only answer was the screwing 
 of her fist into her cheek, and a low moan 
 of misery. 
 
 " Is any thing the matter ? " said Carrie, 
 now thoroughly awake. 
 
 Again the fist gave a significant punch, 
 and there was another moan. 
 
SICKNESS. 97 
 
 " Have you got the tooth-ache, Rache ? " 
 said Carrie, persuasively. 
 
 Rache bowed her head, and moaned loud 
 er than before. 
 
 Carrie was up in an instant ; that was a 
 pain she knew something about, and the suffer 
 er from its torture, always claimed her deepest 
 sympathy. She quickly produced a box of 
 powdered alum and salt which her mother 
 had provided for night attacks of the enemy. 
 Showing Rache how to apply it on a bit of 
 cotton, she watched the operation with the 
 air of an experienced physician. 
 
 " Does it feel better ? " said Carrie, bend 
 ing over poor Rache, who had dropped upon 
 the floor. Carrie had longed to do the lit 
 tle heathen good. She had prayed for her, 
 but never till now had she spoken to her in 
 the loving tones of affectionate interest. 
 
 Rache felt the difference, and turning her 
 eyes slowly up towards the little figure in 
 white, she said, "Miss Carr, it's done a 
 9 
 
98 UNDER THE PEAR TREE. 
 
 thrustin me now, Miss Carr. Rache thought 
 she didn't care what took her, but that was 
 most awful bad. I'se all miserable all over, 
 in here, in here, when I thinks about Mass 
 Grant. Oh ! Miss Carr ! " 
 
 Rache pressed her hand to her side, and 
 great tears rolled down her cheeks as she 
 spoke. 
 
 " Dear Rache, don't cry so ! " said Carrie, 
 tenderly. " Maybe Mr. Grant will get 
 well, and if he don't, you know there is a 
 beautiful place, God's heaven, where he 
 takes those who love him when they die, 
 and makes them very, very happy. Nobody 
 ever cries there, and nobody has any pain 
 as you had just now. The dear good Sav 
 iour lives there, and though he is grander 
 than any king in this world, he takes even 
 the poor and the little children by the 
 hand, and leads them along the golden 
 streets and by the banks of the clear 
 
 river." 
 
SICKNESS. 99 
 
 " Will Mass Grant go there ? " said Rache, 
 eagerly. 
 
 " I cannot be very sure," said Carrie, 
 truthfully, " but you kneel down as I do, and 
 we will ask the Saviour if he takes away 
 Mr. Grant out of this world, to let him come 
 and live in his beautiful home. The Saviour 
 can hear us, though we cannot see him." 
 
 Rache did &s she was told, and her poor 
 heart found its first comfort, as Carrie prayed 
 that the Lord would spare Mr. Grant's life, 
 or else help him so to turn to Christ that he 
 might enter the -bright kingdom above, and 
 be happy among the angels there. 
 
 " Tank 'ee Miss Carr ! " said Rache, as 
 they rose from their knees. " I kinder feels 
 set up now." A sudden shadow overspread 
 her dark face, as she added, " But Rache, 
 Miss Carr, he xoortt leave poor Rache behind. 
 He's always took me every place, ever since 
 Miss Lizzie was married. He won't leave 
 Rache when he goes, will he ? " 
 
100 UNDER THE PEAR TREE. 
 
 " Every body goes alone to Heaven," said 
 Carrie, wiping away the tears that gathered 
 in her eyes; " but Rache, dear, the Lord Jesus 
 will take care of him ; and you can speak to 
 that same Lord Jesus, and if you try to be a 
 very good girl, and not lie or steal or do any 
 naughty thing, when you die you will go to 
 the happy Heaven too, and sing among the 
 beautiful angels." 
 
 " Maybe they wouldn't let Rache in ? may 
 be only white folks would be there," said 
 Rache, doubtfully. 
 
 " The Lord Jesus loves white and black, 
 poor and rich, just the same," said Carrie, 
 earnestly ; " and if you will try to be good 
 as he wants you to be, he will take you to 
 his home." 
 
 Rache listened eagerly, a cough interrupt 
 ed the earnest young speaker. 
 
 " Oh, Miss Carr ! " broke in Rache, u now 
 you be taking cold, and you'll go leave 
 Rache, and nobody will tell her how to get 
 
SICKNESS. 101 
 
 up there. If I could only climb it, I could 
 know that way. Now you Miss Carr, just 
 slip in your warm bed, and I'll tuck you up 
 close, and then jus sit down there by the 
 door and say over them words you said on 
 your knees. Maybe I won't get 'em jus 
 right, will lie mind if I don't say it jus so as 
 you did?" 
 
 " The Lord Jesus knows what you want, 
 he will not mind any mistakes you make : 
 you may speak to him as you would speak to 
 me, only he loves you ever so much better 
 than I do, and is, oh, ever so much kinder 
 and wiser.' 7 
 
 When Eache had performed her friendly 
 office and slipped away to her post in the 
 entry, with double earnestness Carrie's pray 
 ers went up for the poor ignorant creature, 
 who was in her trouble seeking help from 
 on high. 
 
 9* 
 
IX. 
 
 (MMTTLE Mrs. Grant was not of much 
 ^1J use in the sick room, and she knew 
 it, and yet she could not be persuaded 
 to leave her husband, wholly to the care of 
 others. On the couch near him she lay 
 down, starting up at the least sound, and 
 watching when his medicines were adminis 
 tered, as if the glance of her tearful eyes 
 could give a healing power to the various 
 doses she could not trust her unsteady hand 
 to drop. 
 
 At dawn Mr. Grant had fallen into a deep 
 sleep, and Mr. Eaton, who was watching be 
 side him, leaned back in his chair with a 
 wearied, grateful look in his pale, worn face. 
 
 In the stillness, Mrs. Grant heard a low 
 murmuring in the entry without. Silently 
 
 (102) 
 
MORNING LIGHT. 103 
 
 she stole to the spot where Rache was crouch 
 ing. " Was that you Rache ? " said the 
 young mistress, with unusual kindness in her 
 manner. The creature's abject grief had 
 touched her heart, a common sorrow had 
 made a new bond between them. 
 
 Rache looked up into the face of her mis 
 tress. There was a cheerful light in the 
 great, dark eyes, as she answered, 
 
 " It was jus 'me, Miss Lizzie. 7 ' 
 
 " Why don't you go to sleep, poor thing ; 
 there, throw your carpet over you, and 
 lie down. You'll be sick, you foolish 
 child." 
 
 Rache could feel kindness, and something 
 choked her as she said, " I ain't sleepy, no 
 how. You see, Miss Lizzie, Fse jus' askin' de 
 Lord to make Mass Grant well, and not let 
 him go to that shinin' place up there, till you 
 and me, Miss Lizzie, gets good enough to go 
 along with him. Miss Carr said I might 
 ask it jus my way, and I'se asked so many 
 
104 UNDER THE PEAR TREE. 
 
 times. See, I'se marked it with dese beans, 
 Fse had in my pocket." 
 
 There was a row of the white beans across 
 the entry, proofs of poor Rache's persever 
 ance through the weary hours of the night. 
 
 " I'll ask him too, Rache," said the young 
 wife, her heart swelling in her bosom. 
 
 Silently Mrs. Grant moved down stairs to 
 the quiet parlor. In the darkness of the 
 closed room, she knelt, when no eye could 
 see, save that Eye which " never slumbers 
 nor sleeps. 77 Earnestly she repeated Rache's 
 poor prayer, that the three might be spared 
 to prepare together to enter that kingdom 
 which had been so little in all their thoughts. 
 
 That was an hour of deep repentance for 
 Mrs. Grant. What had she clone to help 
 her husband to prepare for the death that 
 might be soon his sure portion ? Was she 
 herself ready for such an awful change ? 
 What word or act of her's had ever led poor 
 Rache to think of the Saviour of sinners ? 
 
MORNING LIGHT. 105 
 
 Mrs. Grant's idle, wasted, butterfly life 
 passed before her like a swift dream. In 
 shame and sorrow she confessed her utter 
 unworthiness, and begged the loving Saviour 
 to receive her as a poor, guilty child, and 
 enable her so to live that she might be a 
 help to her husband and to Rache, if indeed, 
 that dear husband should be spared to her. 
 
 " Mrs. Grant," said a voice in the hall. 
 The wife sprang to the door in alarm. 
 
 ' God be praised," said the earnest voice 
 of Mr. Eaton, " dear Mrs. Grant, your 
 husband is better. He has opened his eyes, 
 and they have their own natural expression. 
 All that wandering, dreamy look is gone." 
 
 " I do not deserve it," murmured Mrs. 
 Grant, amid tears of joy. 
 
 " May God send his blessing on you both, 
 and help you so to live to his service, that 
 death shall have for you no more terrors ! " 
 said Mr. Eaton, fervently. 
 
X. 
 
 itnb in 
 
 fHE soft summer air had clothed the 
 old-fashioned garden in wonderful 
 beauty. Sweet perfume lingered on 
 the gentle breeze, and bright flowers were 
 springing everywhere in lavish luxuriance. 
 The staunch old pear tree had hung out its 
 fruit to the sun, and the currant bushes still 
 hoarded a few clusters of gems. 
 
 The grass in the favored circle was smooth 
 as the rich carpet of the drawing room, and 
 yet Carrie seemed to think it not a fit rest 
 ing-place for a pair of feet, for which she 
 was tenderly caring. They must have that 
 gay Brioche of her own knitting, and it 
 must be her hand that placed it just where 
 it would be best for the invalid's use. 
 
 Mr. Grant smiled as she made her arran<re- 
 
 (106) 
 
HAND IN HAND. 107 
 
 rnents for 'his comfort, and playfully said, 
 " You will spoil me, Carrie, quite make a 
 woman of me. I shall have to be at rough 
 work, soon, and forget that I have been 
 ill." 
 
 " We can't forget it, you look so pale and 
 thin. I don't see how you can be so cheer 
 ful and patient," said Carrie, warmly. 
 
 " I am glad if I even seem patient," was 
 the serious reply. " I have a great deal to 
 learn in that way, yet. Indeed I have a 
 great deal to learn every way. I want to 
 begin life all over again. I wish I were a 
 child like you, Carrie, with no wrong past 
 to remember, and no bad habits to over 
 come." 
 
 " Oh ! Mr. Grant, I have a great deal to 
 be sorry for, and ever so many bad habits, 
 but mother says that is no reason for me to 
 be discouraged. She says, my part is to try 
 faithfully to do right, and to believe that all 
 my sins are forgiven, for Jesus' sake." 
 
108 UNDER THE PEAR TREE. 
 
 " And I suppose that must be my lesson, 
 too. I am trying to teach it to my heart, 
 but I need a better Teacher, even he who 
 knoweth all my sins, and is yet ready to 
 wash them away." 
 
 Mr. Grant spoke very earnestly, and 
 Carrie's eyes softened as she listened. 
 When he paused, she exclaimed, "Dear 
 Mr. Grant, I love to hear you say so. I 
 was not quite sure you felt this way before 
 you were sick, and it worried me not to be 
 sure, as I was about grandma." 
 
 " You were too right, Carrie in your fears. 
 I trust that God has blessed this illness to 
 me, and help me to resolve to lead a new 
 life," was the reply. 
 
 " This great trouble has helped you take 
 a great step toward Heaven. You know 
 what mother said about the ladder," said 
 Carrie, eagerly. "Yes, and I remember 
 that Christ must sustain us, for our troubles 
 are worse than lost, and I mean, too, Carrie 
 
HAND IN HAND. 109 
 
 to keep in mind that the Christian who 
 would climb to Heaven must bear cheer 
 fully every little trial, as sent him by the 
 Lord for a stepping-stone to lift him higher 
 and nearer to himself." 
 
 Carrie's face was perfectly beaming as the 
 listened to these words, evidently spoken 
 from the depth of the heart. 
 
 " Are you here, William ? " said a voice 
 from behind the old tree. 
 
 " Lizzie ! " exclaimed the husband with 
 pleasure. "Are you coming to enjoy the 
 shade of the old pear-tree." 
 
 Mrs. Grant had fancied that she had an 
 aversion to everything rural, but it was 
 plain that her taste was changing with re 
 gard to that matter, as it was in many other 
 ways. 
 
 She sat down beside her husband and 
 gazed earnestly into his face. " You do not 
 look quite like yourself yet," was her sos- 
 rowful comment, after the long survey- 
 10 
 
110 UNDER THE PEAR TREE. 
 
 " And yet I feel like myself, and full of 
 new hopes and new plans," was the cheerful 
 .answer. 
 
 Carrie stole away, to enjoy in solitude the 
 sweet assurance that she had gathered from 
 Mr. Grant's last words to her. The young 
 wife did not particularly regret her absence, 
 :as she had something special to say to her 
 foustaid. 
 
 " I am glad to have you alone," she began, 
 ''for I want to tell you how sorry I am that 
 1 have nt been a better wife to you. I 
 ^never helped you to do any thing that was 
 right, and I dare say I led you into a great 
 deal of foolishness that was not good for 
 you.'" 
 
 "Stop'! stopl'" exclaimed the husband, 
 putting his hand over her mouth. " I am 
 the one who ought to confess. When I took 
 the little orphan Lizzie to be my wife, I 
 meant to shield her from all evil, and stand 
 .between her and trouble, sorrow and want. 
 
HAND IN HAND. Ill 
 
 I have been a poor, light-minded, worthless 
 fellow, not teaching my wife to look to God 
 to keep her from evil. I have not even 
 stood between her and want. I believe if 
 I had been what I should have been, instead 
 of a mere pleasure-loving fop, I should not 
 have lost tne clerkship which was our all. 
 I am a poor man. Lizzie. I have nothing to 
 depend upon. I ought to have talked this 
 over plainly with you before, but I thought 
 you were too young and light hearted to 
 have such troubles. I do not know what is 
 before us in the future, but I leave all to God, 
 the God whom I hope to serve faithfully, 
 henceforward and forever." 
 
 "My dear husband!" exclaimed Mrs. 
 Grant. " This makes me happier than if 
 you were rich as a king. I cannot tell you 
 what I suffered when I thought you were 
 going to die, and go into that eternity of 
 which we had never spoken together, which 
 had scarcely entered into our thoughts. I 
 
112 UNDER THE PEAR TREE. 
 
 too want to be better, and you will teach me 
 how, won't you ? " 
 
 " I am but a poor beginner myself, Lizzie, 
 but we can both pray to be taught from 
 above ; and if we walk humbly we shall not 
 go astray," was the solemn answer. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Grant had thought them 
 selves happy when they commenced life's 
 journey together, but a deeper joy now 
 filled their hearts, as hand in hand, they set 
 their faces Heavenward. 
 
XI. 
 
 was sitting in her little room, 
 busying away over her lessons for the 
 morrow. There was a gentle tap at 
 the door. A frown of impatience crossed 
 Carrie's face, she did not want to be inter 
 rupted then by everybody. Slie did not 
 look very hospitable as she opened the door 
 a crack, to see who the intruder was. 
 
 " You are busy, Carrie," said Mrs. Grant, 
 modestly, " I won't interrupt you." 
 
 Carrie knew that it was not essential that 
 she should be studying exactly at that time, 
 and she forced herself to say pleasantly, 
 " Come in, Mrs. Grant, I can learn my les 
 sons as well by and by." 
 
 " I want you to help me a little about my 
 sewing," said Mrs. Grant, bashfully. " I 
 10* (H3) 
 
114 UNDER THE PEAR TREE. 
 
 am ashamed to let you see what a poor seam 
 stress I am, but I am determined to learn. 
 I keep getting this hem uneven ; I think I 
 could sew it better, if it were basted." 
 
 " I'll baste it," said Carrie, going to work 
 in a business like way. 
 
 Dear little Mrs. Grant ! She was trying 
 to learn to be useful, to be fit for a poor 
 man's wife. 
 
 She had keenly felt her helplessness when 
 other hands had ministered about her hus 
 band's sick-bed, while she had looked on, 
 utterly unable to assist. 
 
 She was determined to lead no longer an 
 idle, listless life. Carrie was no more in 
 dustrious, by nature, than herself, yet she 
 had seen the little girl patiently schooling 
 herself to sew neatly the long seams that 
 were prepared for her, and striving to learn 
 the simple household duties that her mother 
 thought best for her to attempt. 
 
 Carrie had not dreamed that her strug- 
 
KACHE. 115 
 
 gles to bear pleasantly such little trying 
 duties would have such an influence. Yet 
 now Mrs. Grant was sitting beside her with 
 the docile look of a scholar, ready to learn 
 to do what Carrie had accomplished, and to 
 triumph as Carrie had triumphed. 
 
 " I had no mother to teach me to sew, 
 when I was little," said Mrs. Grant, apolo 
 getically. How Carrie's heart smote her 
 for the severity with which she had viewed 
 Mrs. Grant's idle habits. How much better 
 would she have been, but for the persevering 
 instructions of her own dear mother ! 
 
 " Did your mother die when you were 
 very young?" asked Carrie, with a look of 
 pity in ber kind face. 
 
 " I don't remember her at all ; old mam 
 my took care of me when I was a baby, and 
 she never wanted me to learn to do any 
 thing useful she said ' Miss Lizzie would 
 always have somebody to work for her, and 
 what was the use of her pricking her little 
 
116 UNDER THE PEAR TREE. 
 
 white fingers with an ugly needle. Poor 
 dear mammy, she meant right, but she 
 didn't know what was to happen to her 
 Miss Lizzie." 
 
 "Where is your mammy now, you must 
 want to see her," said Carrie, quite uncon 
 scious of giving her pain. 
 
 " Poor mammy's dead ! " said Mrs. Grant, 
 tears filling her eyes. "I cried as if my 
 heart would break when they took her 
 away from me to lay her in the ground ; and 
 then uncle James, the uncle I lived with, 
 gave me Eache, her little granddaughter, to 
 be my maid, and thought that would com 
 fort me. Though he was so angry when I 
 was married, he said I might take Rache 
 with me, for I was a poor, foolish, helpless 
 child, and didn't even know how to wait on 
 myself ; but I am going to be very different, 
 and maybe he'll come to see us some day, 
 and wonder to find how steady and indus 
 trious I have grown." 
 
RACHE. 117 
 
 Mrs. Grant had done more talking than 
 sewing so far, but now she seemed deter 
 mined to make up for lost time, for stitch, 
 stitch went her busy needle until at last she 
 held up the completed hem, exclaiming, with 
 child-like glee, " Only see ! It is all done ! 
 It looks pretty well, don't it?" 
 
 Carrie expertly rubbed down the seam 
 with her finger nail, but even this familiar 
 process did not cause all the stitches to dis 
 appear entirely. Candor, however, did not 
 forbid her pronouncing the work " wonder 
 fully well done for any body who was not 
 used to sewing." 
 
 With this praise, Mrs. Grant seemed quite 
 satisfied, and away she flitted to give her 
 husband his new cravat ; the first bit of sew 
 ing her little hands had ever done for him. 
 
 Carrie's studies were not to have her un 
 disturbed attention that afternoon. She 
 had hardly mastered three paragraphs of 
 what she called a " hard geography lesson," 
 
118 UNDER THE TEAR TREE. 
 
 when there was another tap at her door. 
 Eache was promptly admitted, yet she 
 seemed in no hurry to tell her errand. On 
 to the floor she dropped, (her unfailing sign 
 of misery,) and burying her face in her 
 apron, she for a time could not be brought 
 to utter a single word. 
 
 At length, mid most unsentimental snorts 
 and blubberings, she burst forth, " 0, Miss 
 Carr, I'se kilt to pieces. Fse all broke up. 
 We's are goin' away. We's done stayin' 
 here. I wouldn't have 'em leave me behind. 
 No, I wouldn't ; but 0, Miss Carr I" Here 
 renewed sobbings checked Rache's further 
 disclosure of her sufferings. This was a 
 surprise indeed! Carrie had learned to 
 look upon Mr. and Mrs. Grant as settled 
 inmates of the household ; she had not 
 thought it possible that Mr. Grant's com 
 plete recovery would have such a conse 
 quence. All consciousness, however, of her 
 own feelings on the subject were lost in her 
 
RACHE. 119 
 
 desire to comfort Rache. It was plain that 
 Rache did not want to be comforted. She 
 not only chose to be very miserable, but to 
 have somebody hear her sobs and groans, 
 and appreciate her trouble. 
 
 " Don't cry so, Rache," said Carrie, when 
 she could at last make herself heard ; 
 " maybe you are going to some very pleas 
 ant place, and you'll have Mr. and Mrs. 
 Grant with you, you know." 
 
 " I don't want 'em to leave me behind, but 
 0, Miss Carr," persisted Rache, "couldn't 
 you go along ? " 
 
 Carrie was really touched. It was the 
 idea then of leaving her which had occa 
 sioned the poor creature's distress. The 
 tears actually came into Carrie's eyes as 
 she answered : " I shall miss you, too, Rache, 
 very much. I can't go with you, but if we 
 are both children of the Lord Jesus, we 
 shall certainly meet some day in his beauti 
 ful heaven. We will try to do what is 
 
120 UNDER THE PEAR TREE. 
 
 right, won't we ? " said Carrie, persua 
 sively. 
 
 " You will," said Rache ; " you will, but 
 I'se don't know about Rache. She's con 
 trary and bad in her ways. She slips into 
 the pantry and nips out little scraps of cake 
 before she even thinks, and says ' No, I 
 didn't' so nat'ral, when folks asks who been 
 meddlin'. Rache don't take to such things 
 like a duck to the water. You will, but 
 maybe Rache '11 jus' get badder and badder, 
 with no Miss Carr to kinder coax her and 
 tell her about the Lord Jesus." 
 
 Here followed another fit of sobbing. 
 
 When there was a lull, Carrie said : 
 "Never fear, Rache, the Lord Jesus will 
 help you to grow better, if you keep pray 
 ing to him, and Mr. and Mrs. Grant will 
 teach you. They are both trying to serve 
 the Lord Jesus, and they will love to help 
 you." 
 
 " I kinder suspected it ! I took a notion 
 
RACHE. 121 
 
 that was the way with 'em!" said Rache, 
 joyously. " It is a fact. Now, Miss Carr, 
 that does set me up some ! " 
 
 " Yes, Rache, and this good news comes 
 to you at the very time you thought you 
 were having so much trouble. So you must 
 cheer up, and try and be a good girl where- 
 ever you go," said Carrie, encouragingly. 
 
 " 111 do jus' that," said Rache ; " but, 
 Miss Carr, I'se never '11 forget you if I 
 lives as old as Methusaly. When you gets 
 to heaven, maybe Rache '11 be up there 
 singin', and won't she be glad to see you 
 come in, and won't she get the angels round 
 her and tell 'em how you teached and 
 teached me, and kinder made it all sweet 
 and plain to me. Sure enough, if Rache is 
 a shinin' up there in the blessed country, it 
 will be because Miss Carr took her by the 
 hand and showed her the way." 
 
 " It will be because the Lord Jesus died 
 for us, that we are there, Raclic ; we must 
 11 
 
122 UNDER THE PEAR TREE. 
 
 not forget that. If ho had not put his 
 spirit into your heart, Rache, all my teach 
 ing would have been in vain," said Carrie, 
 earnestly. 
 
 " There is a happy land ! " burst forth 
 Rache, and with this glad song on her lips, 
 she went cheerily down stairs. 
 
 Carrie had spoken in all sincerity to 
 Rache, when she reminded her that her 
 teaching would have been in vain, but for 
 the wonderful influence of the spirit of God. 
 Dark, dull and closed to the power of truth, 
 had seemed the mind of poor Rache, but 
 when touched by the Divine Spirit in the 
 midst of her ignorance, she could yet wel 
 come the Lord Jesus ; mid her stupidity, 
 she could yet love his precious name, and 
 strive to follow his example. 
 
 Carrie understood at last what was 
 meant by "praying for the heathen/' arid 
 such prayers now seemed to her of even 
 more value than the golden contributions, 
 
RACHE. 123 
 
 which she had before been tempted to think 
 all-sufficient. She thought with loving pity 
 of the poor missionaries, who like her, had 
 their struggles with the blinded, sin-blinded 
 human heart. She knew their teaching 
 would fall as seed on the rock, unless he 
 who created should please to renew. 
 
 Ah, very earnest now were Carrie's 
 prayers that God would send his spirit to 
 touch the hearts of the poor heathen, and 
 open their eyes to see the beauty of holi 
 ness and the preciousness of the sacrifice of 
 Christ. She could believe that God could 
 convert thousands in a single day, and that 
 the time would come when whole nations 
 would turn unto the Lord, and this earth be 
 made a kingdom ready for our King and 
 Redeemer, the Saviour Christ. 
 
XII. 
 
 CARRIE had been summoned to the 
 library the evening after the inter 
 view with Rache, described in the last 
 chapter. Mr. and Mrs. Eaton were sitting 
 together, and there was an unusual serious 
 ness in their manner. 
 
 " Come here, my darling," said the father, 
 drawing his child tenderly towards him, " I 
 want to tell you about Mr. Grant." 
 
 " Then what Rache said is true ! He is 
 really going away ! " exclaimed Carrie. 
 
 "Mr. Grant's earnest desire is to find 
 some position where he may at once pro 
 vide a support for his young wife. He is 
 grateful for our hospitality, but says he 
 does not care to trespass longer upon it. 
 He does not yet know of any position such 
 
 (124) 
 
A DECISION. 125 
 
 as he wishes, but he is willing to take up 
 any occupation, however humble, by which 
 he can gain an honest maintenance. He is 
 starting anew in life, as a Christian man, 
 and laborious industry is what he expects, 
 and he does not fear lest he should fail of a 
 blessing on his labors. He is not very 
 strong yet ; he is new to the struggles of a 
 Christian, and might perhaps be easily led 
 astray. His young wife, too, has much to 
 learn at the feet of Jesus, and needs beside 
 practical lessons in industry, sobriety and 
 self-denial, which your mother is particular 
 ly well calculated to give. I cannot bear 
 to see these young people going forth from 
 my roof to an uncertain future, and to the 
 power of unknown temptations. I would 
 gladly watch over them and guard them a 
 little longer, but, darling, your happiness 
 and your good are very precious to me." 
 
 Mr. Eaton paused. " You will not let 
 them go, father," said Carrie, eagerly. 
 11* 
 
126 UNDER THE PEAK TREE. 
 
 " You have "borne very patiently my child, 
 the many annoyances that have been brought 
 about by the admission of strangers into 
 our family circle. Are you quite sure that 
 through the long winter you could keep up 
 the same spirit? I think of proposing a 
 plan to Mr. Grant, which will retain him 
 with us until the spring." 
 
 In Carrie's mind there rose a remembrance 
 of her quiet, peaceful home before the ar 
 rival of the guests. Then, she was the main 
 object of interest to her father and mother, 
 they had their joys together, and theirs were 
 loving ears ever ready to hear her slightest 
 sorrow. Yery different had been the case 
 for the last few months. There had been 
 days and even weeks, when Carrie's only 
 opportunity for a quiet talk with her mother 
 had been the few precious moments uniformly 
 devoted to her after she was in bed for the 
 night. Carrie thought of all this, and yet 
 she did not hesitate. Her reply was prompt. 
 
A DECISION. 127 
 
 " Dear father," she said, " I cannot pro 
 mise to bear pleasantly everything that may 
 happen ; but I want them to stay, and I will 
 try to take every little trial as patiently and 
 cheerfully as I can." Carrie blushed as she 
 added : " I think it is better for me to have 
 somebody to think about beside myself, and 
 not have everything quite as I like it. You 
 will have them stay, I couldn't even spare 
 Rache, just now." 
 
 " What, the little heathen, ' the pest ! ' " 
 said the mother, with a smile. 
 
 " Indeed, I don't call her a heathen now," 
 said Carrie, very soberly. " She is not at all 
 as she was, and it is such a pleasure to teach 
 her excepting on her funny days, and then 
 she makes me laugh. I have learned now 
 to let her go when she feels that way, and 
 take some other time to talk to her." 
 
 The father and mother looked into the 
 loving, animated face of their child, and felt 
 assured that hitherto the influence of the 
 
128 UNDEE THE PEAR TREE. 
 
 strangers had done her no harm. They 
 might venture to induce them to prolong 
 their stay, without fear of making home un 
 happy for their darling, or of her adopting 
 the follies which the Grant's were trying to 
 lay aside. 
 
 Mr. Eaton had heard of a situation, in 
 which Mr. Grant would receive some train 
 ing in business habits, but only a trifling 
 salary was offered. This, however, was quite 
 sufficient if the young people had a home in 
 their friend's family. In the spring there 
 would be an opening in the Bank at Bending 
 Brook, of which Mr. Eaton was the Presi 
 dent ; in a post of trust Mr. Grant might 
 feel his character established, and even look 
 forward to the time when he could have a 
 home of his own. 
 
 It is needless to describe the true grati 
 tude of the young couple when this plan was 
 so urged upon them, that they could not 
 without ungraciousness refuse. Inwardly 
 
A DECISION. 129 
 
 they resolved to be worthy of the kindness 
 shown them, and as opportunity might offer 
 to do unto others, even as this faithful friend 
 had done unto them. 
 
XIII. 
 
 'PRING had come again, and again the 
 old pear-tree was white with christen 
 ing blossoms. Yet Carrie was not at 
 her favorite haunt. The rustic seac was 
 rarely occupied, save by Mr. Eaton, when in 
 a thoughtful mood he sought this place of 
 retirement. 
 
 Winter had wrought sad destruction in 
 the geographical garden, and Andes and 
 Amazon were in a state of most uninterest 
 ing ruin, yet Carrie had not shed a tear over 
 their altered state, or raised hoe or shovel 
 for the work of restoration. Carrie had a 
 new object of interest. Her spare hours 
 were all spent in another garden than the 
 one endeared to her by so many pleasant 
 associations. She had transplanted her fav- 
 
 (130) 
 
CONCLUSION. 131 
 
 orite moss-rose bush to this new scene of 
 her labors, and a whole row of wild-flowers 
 had found a home in the bed, which was 
 Carrie's especial care. She had poked her 
 finger into the ground, times innumerable, 
 and in every opening she had hidden seeds, 
 the names of which no one was to guess, 
 until they came out of the brown earth, to 
 tell their own story. Carrie had a valuable 
 assistant in this undertaking, even her right- 
 hand man in her geographical project. 
 
 What a pleasure it was to Mr. Grant to 
 work in his own garden for the first time in 
 his life. He verily thought there was not 
 another such an attractive spot in all Penn 
 sylvania. When bank-hours were over, he 
 was soon busy among his peas and corn, and 
 chatting with Carrie, who was sure to be 
 ready to meet him and ask his advice as to 
 where this trellis was to be placed, or that 
 shrub to take up its abode in its new quar 
 ters. 
 
132 UNDER THE PEAR TREE. 
 
 " Why, Carrie, you won't leave anything 
 in the old garden," said Mr. Grant, one day, 
 to his little friend. Carrie was bearing a 
 great rose-bush in one hand, while in the 
 other she dexterously balanced a root of 
 old-fashioned pinks. 
 
 Carrie laughed as she answered, " Mother 
 said I might take them, and she is coming 
 over to tea this evening. Mrs. Grant invited 
 us, and then she is going to look at my 
 flower-bed, and see if she don't like it. Fath 
 er is coming, too," said Carrie, sure of the 
 pleasure her information would give. 
 
 So Mrs. Grant was really at housekeeping. 
 Yes, the little woman was in a home of her 
 own, and a very responsible condition she 
 considered it, and much she needed a kind 
 adviser in the many difficulties that each 
 morning was sure to bring. The young wife 
 would have had on her sun-bonnet a half a 
 dozen times a day, to run over to Mrs. Ea 
 ton's for counsel, but there was one member 
 
CONCLUSION. 133 
 
 of the family that she could not bear to 
 leave unnecessarily, even for a half-hour, 
 though Rache felt herself quite competent 
 to take her mistress's place. 
 
 There was a small, round white face, with 
 dark eyes and a little fat nose at which 
 Mrs. Grant was particularly fond of looking. 
 It was not a doll, that one thing that Mrs. 
 Grant held so tenderly in her arms. No, it 
 was a warm, soft, pliable little object, and 
 somewhere hidden by that long white dress ; 
 there were some pretty, tiny pink feet, that 
 Carrie thought the " darlingest things in the 
 world." 
 
 Mrs. Grant's baby was the wonder of at 
 least four people, its parents and Rache and 
 Carrie. Certainly that ought to have been 
 enough to satisfy the vanity of any two 
 months 7 old youngster, just starting in life. 
 The young mother evidently believed there 
 never had been such a child before. " So 
 winning, so knowing, and so wonderfully like 
 12 
 
134 UXDER THE PEAR TREE. 
 
 his papa." Mr. Grant was sure the boy 
 would be a genius, his head was of such a 
 remarkable form, and when the little man 
 chose to sneeze, cough or shrivel up his 
 funny little nose, he was certain of his fath 
 er's admiration. 
 
 And Rache, who can tell what she thought 
 of the baby ! If she really believed all she 
 said to him, she considered him the most 
 wonderful of natural objects, a kind of union 
 of all the glories of the three kingdoms, 
 animal, mineral and vegetable " a duck, a 
 pink, a diamond, a birdie, a chick, a rose, a 
 plum, a man, a sugar," and crowning all, a 
 " popsy, dinksy, deary ! " Rache had some 
 body to talk to now, who would be pleased 
 with all her nonsense, and be ready to smile 
 at any of the droll grimaces she delighted 
 to make. It had quite sobered the creature, 
 though, to have the privilege of sharing with 
 the young mother the care of this precious 
 child, and in Rache's daily prayers she never 
 
CONCLUSION. 135 
 
 forgot to ask that she might " be a good 
 girl to the baby and never do him no harm." 
 It was quite an important affair for Mrs. 
 Grant to have company to tea, for the first 
 time in her new home. We are not going 
 to betray the secret of her attempt to make 
 some cake in honor of the guests, and the 
 horrible " streak " that made it into three 
 cakes, of which the upper and lower ones 
 were the only desirable portions. We need 
 not be so private about it, though, for all the 
 neighborhood must have seen Rache sent off 
 post-haste to the baker's to supply the defi 
 ciency. 
 
 Mrs. Grant laughed over this misfortune, 
 and did not give up in despair. She would 
 have Mrs. Eaton's advice next time, no 
 doubt with better success. Mrs. Eaton cer 
 tainly ought to have had a hand in the cake, 
 for almost everything else on the table was 
 linked with her. Those strawberry preserves 
 she had superintended, and out of her extra 
 
136 UNDER THE PEAR TREE. 
 
 stock, filled the cupboard of her young 
 friend. That yellow butter was from her 
 own dairy, and those thin slices of ham had 
 hung in her " smoke-house " lang-syne. Be 
 this as it may, for the arrangement of the 
 table and the concocting of the tea and 
 coffee, Mrs. Grant was alone responsible as 
 the housekeeper, and in these particulars, 
 she had done herself credit. 
 
 A happy looking party sat round that 
 same table, that evening. There was a 
 pause ere they began to partake of the good 
 cheer. 
 
 " Will you ask the blessing, Mr. Eaton ? " 
 said Mr. Grant. 
 
 " We ever feel that but for you and yours, 
 we might have been houseless wanderers, 
 with no resting place on earth, and no sure 
 hope of heaven." 
 
 Deeply moved, Mr. Eaton implored the 
 blessing of God on the circle gathered there, 
 and heartfelt was his thanksgiving for the 
 
CONCLUSION. 137 
 
 mercies vouchsafed his young friends in this, 
 their Christian home. 
 
 We do not purpose to dwell on the pleas 
 ant chat that enlivened that social visit, or 
 the wonderful feats of the baby, or the delight 
 of Carrie at hearing that he was to bear 
 her father's name, " Eaton Grant." " How 
 pretty ! I wonder how it would look writ 
 ten ! " said Carrie. 
 
 " May it be written in the Book of Life ! " 
 said Mr. Eaton, solemnly. 
 
 When Carrie was safely in her own little 
 bed that night, she had a long, sweet talk 
 with her mother. They both had much to 
 say of the pleasure of their visit, and of 
 their joy at seeing their friends so happy in 
 their home. " Darling," said the mother, 
 bending down her face to her child, " when 
 we make an effort to bear little trials pa 
 tiently, we do not know what great good 
 we may be doing. While you were gone 
 up stairs with the baby, Mr. and Mrs. Grant 
 12* 
 
138 UNDER THE PEAR TREE. 
 
 were thanking us for what we had tried to 
 do for them ; but they both said that their 
 first desires to lead a Christian life, had 
 been prompted by seeing your efforts to take 
 cheerfully whatsoever the Lord Jesus might 
 please to send you to do or bear." The 
 tears rushed to Carrie's eyes ; " 0, mamma ! " 
 was all she could say, as she hid her face on 
 that dear friend's shoulder. 
 
 Though the little girl spoke no other 
 word, in the silence of her heart, she poured 
 forth her gratitude to Him who had so 
 blessed her feeble strivings to do his will. 
 
 It was the widow's mite that won the 
 praise of the Lord. It may be, that in his 
 eyes no great sacrifices of strong-willed 
 men, are more precious than the efforts of 
 little children, to bear cheerfully the petty 
 trials sent them by their Saviour. Carrie 
 had been allowed to see the good that has 
 sprung from the patient performance of 
 some of the humble duties that fall to the 
 
CONCLUSION. 139 
 
 share of the lambs of the flock, but this is 
 not always the way in life. 
 
 We work, for the most part, in the dark, 
 not knowing what use our Lord will make 
 of our labors. In heaven's clear light, it 
 may be given us to see that our small acts 
 of self-denial, and our faithfulness in trifles, 
 have been indeed, the truly great actions of 
 our lives, even those actions upon which has 
 fallen the peculiar blessing of our Heavenly 
 Father. 
 
 THE END.