THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES & ^-l AUNT HANNAH AND MARTHA AND JOHN BY PANSY (MRS. G. R. ALDEN) AND MRS. C. M. LIVINGSTON Author of Divers Women Profiles Modern Prophets From Different Standpoints and others BOSTON D LOTHROP COMPANY WASHINGTON STREET OPPOSITE BROMFIELD COPYRIGHT, 1890, BY D. LOTHROP COMPANY. 252.0 CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. PAGE AUNT HANNAH'S LETTER TO HER SISTER . i CHAPTER II. MIXED THINGS . . . . . 15 CHAPTER III. GOOD BREAD AND GOOD MEETINGS . . 2/ CHAPTER IV. " TOTAL DEPRAVITY " 43 CHAPTER V. PERTURBATIONS . . . . . 55 CHAPTER VI. A SMOKY ATMOSPHERE .... 73 CHAPTER VII. BONNETS, AND BURNS, AND BURDENS . 86 CHAPTER VIII. IMPROMPTU VISITS ..... IOI iV CONTENTS. CHAPTER IX. RECONCILIATIONS . . . . . I I/ CHAPTER X. MORAL EVOLUTION . . . . . 133 CHAPTER XI. " DON'T REPEAT IT" .... 147 CHAPTER XII. LESSONS 164 CHAPTER XIII. PERSECUTION OF THE SAINTS . . . 1/8 CHAPTER XIV. CROSS-LOTS 194 CHAPTER XV. CHARACTER STUDIES .... 2O8 CHAPTER XVI. THIS WORLD AND THE OTHER ONE . . 223 CHAPTER XVII. READY TO MAKE SACRIFICES . . . 242 CHAPTER XVIII. "WITHOUT ARE DOGS " . . . . 256 CONTENTS. V CHAPTER XIX. INTRICACIES ...... 2/5 CHAPTER XX. AN EVENTFUL AFTERNOON . . . 2Q2 CHAPTER XXI. EMBARRASSING QUESTIONS . . . 309 CHAPTER XXII. FANATICISM . . . . . . 325 CHAPTER XXIII. PRECIPITATION ..... 342 CHAPTER XXIV. COMPLICATIONS . . . . . 354 CHAPTER XXV. A MODERN MARTYR . . . . 37O CHAPTER XXVI. "THREE OF US" 384 CHAPTER XXVII. INTUITION 398 CHAPTER XXVIII. "J. s. R." 412 AUNT HANNAH, AND MARTHA, AND JOHN. CHAPTER I. BY MRS. C. M. LIVINGSTON. AUNT HANNAH S LETTER TO HER SISTER. MAPLEWOOD, Jan. 15, 1889. MY DEAR JANE: Do you know it is just thirty years to-day since you were married and started on your long jour- ney ? How dreadful it seemed to us older ones then to give up our little sister to foreign mission- ary work. It was harder than you knew, for we felt just as if we were giving you up to death. Thirty years is a long time, but it doesn't seem such a stretch to me now as it did then. It is surprising how time goes along. I'm getting old, but I don't believe it. Although you've been home three times to see us, I always think of you 2 AUNT HANNAH S LETTER TO HER SISTER. as looking just as you did the day you were a bride. We shall think of you as we do of our friends who go to heaven young. You will always be young to us. I remember I thought it was almost wicked to sacrifice you such a pretty, fresh flower, to be buried in that wild land. The Lord has taught me better. Now, I am glad that our family gave up the brightest treasure they had to his service. I think he has blest us more ever since. I have a piece of news for you. John is going to be married. You don't know all that means to me. It means a lonesome life. You know John- nie was only five years old when Sister Margaret died and gave him to me. You can not think what a comfort he has been. It doesn't seem as if I could have lived, that summer after I was left alone in the world, if I had not had the dear boy to care for, and make living seem worth while again. I feel as though I had been a suc- cess in training one boy, at least. To be sure, he was an uncommon child, and had a fine start when I took him, because he had a remarkable mother. , She had taught him to obey perfectly, and that is half the battle, to my thinking. He has always been a good, obedient boy not one of your poky ones, either. He is just running over with fun to this day. He is smart, too. They tell me John stood high in college and seminary. It does AUNT HANNAH S LETTER TO HER SISTER. 3 not seem possible that it is all past, and that he is gone out of this old house forever, and is about to set up a home of his own. I thought, when he was young, I was bringing up somebody that would be a stay to me in my old age, and take the farm off my hands ; bring his wife, when he got one, right here, and we would all work together. That's the way of the world ! Tug and work years and years to bring something about, and then see your plans all upset. But what am I saying? Talking exactly like a heathen. Of course it is better, the way it has turned out. I wanted John to be a farmer and work for me, and the Lord wanted him to be a minister and work for him. Well, I'm glad he had his way and did not let me have mine. I might have seen long ago, if I hadn't been blind as a bat, what was coming, by the way things went. That boy never took to farming. He did his work well, to be sure, to please me, but I could see he hated it, all the same. He was fond of books and was never so happy as when he was in school. I'm sorry, since I begin to get my eyes open, that I opposed him so much when he wanted to go to college, and that I grumbled and fretted because things did not go my way. It looks like fighting against God, but I did not see it so then. John has accepted a call to the church in Belle- 4 AUNT HANNAH S LETTER TO HER SISTER. ville. I heard him preach his first sermon last Sunday, and I must say I had hard work to keep down my pride. John is a good-looking young man. He's what you might call handsome. He looks well in the pulpit, as if he belonged there. I hadn't an idea the boy could preach as he does. It did not sound much like some beginners' ser- mons all froth and words. John must have had a deep experience to preach like that. I might almost have thought that some of it came from Baxter or Bunyan, if I didn't know that he would sooner cut off his fingers than to do such a thing. I don't want to take any of the credit to my- self; but if there is anything in the world that I have tried to do, it is to teach him to be true and clean throughout. I know John has been that. When he would come home on vacations I used to look him over as soon as he got in the house. I'm pretty sharp-sighted, if I am an old woman. John couldn't have deceived me very well. I always saw the same honest, pure boy that went away. He never smelled of tobacco or beer, and his eyes looked clear as crystals. When I think it all over, it seems as if the Lord had put great honor on a poor old woman like me to allow me such a privilege as bringing up a minister for him. You'll think there's nothing in my head but John, and it's about true that there isn't. AUNT HANNAH S LETTER TO HER SISTER. 5 That boy wants me to "break up house-keeping and come and live with them ; but I can't do that. The old farm has been my home too many years to think of leaving it now. I shall go right on. Peter and Dorcas have been with me now ten years, so it won't be much of a chore, after all, to carry on the farm. They know every crook and turn as well as I do. I've just had a letter from John, and nothing will do but I must go to Belleville and put things to rights a little in the parsonage, and be there to welcome him and "Mattie," as he calls her. I'm astonished that John should nick-name his own wife! What is the use of putting an "ie" to her name when it doesn't belong there ? To think of a woman being willing to be called "Lizzie," or "Katie," or "Jennie," when she might have "Elizabeth," or " Katherine," or "Jane" good substantial names. I shall call her "Martha." I suppose I must humor the boy, and drag my old bones over there. To be sure, it is not much of a journey, but I'm not so young as I used to be, and the snow is deep. I have to take such an early start in the morning the stage starts before daylight that I can't finish your letter till I get back. THURSDAY EVENING. Well, your letter has lain by quite a spell. I've 6 AUNT HANNAH S LETTER TO HER SISTER. been and done it up and got back. Of course you want to hear all about it. I took Dorcas with me to help. The parsonage is a pretty little white house, with green blinds. John had been at work there himself for a week before he went away, putting down carpets and setting up furniture. His wife's folks bought all that. Then I gave John a horse and buggy, and cow one of my best Alderneys ; I gave the dishes besides. I don't know but I was a little extravagant, but I bought a China tea-set. Maybe it's a whim, but I always think tea tastes better out of the little thin, clear cups, with pink flowers on them, than it does out of the common ones. So Dorcas and I had work enough to do, unpacking and washing the dishes, and setting them up in the bit of a closet. Then we swept and made up the beds. John's wife's folks are well-to-do. They have supplied her with bedding and that of the best, enough to last her always, I guess. The furni- ture is all nice, too "plain," John says, but it doesn't look very plain to me. When we got all the rooms put in order the place looked as pretty as a bird's nest. John's study has a green carpet on it that looks like moss, and the parlor carpet looks as if somebody had taken handfuls of little fine flowers and vines, and sprinkled them all about on the white ground- AUNT HANNAH S LETTER TO HER SISTER. / work. The sitting-room carpet, too, is lively- looking, the furniture is brown, and two large windows let the sunshine pour in now that doesn't seem very nice to you in that hot country, does it ? But you mustn't forget how you used to love the sunshine in your old home. I really enjoyed arranging it all, only I could not help thinking, what if she should be a little upstart, and poke fun at me and my way of regula- ting. Well, we got it done the day they were expected the baking and all. I took over a jar of butter, and then I put into that cellar and pantry everything that could be needed for house- keeping groceries, you know, and flour and veg- etables, and well, everything. Then we baked up a lot of nice things. How pleasant it all looked to me when I sat down in the rocking-chair waiting for them. The whole house was warm ; the kitchen door stood open a little, and the tea-kettle was singing on the stove. Everything was ready but making the cream biscuits. John is very fond of cream bis- cuits, and I always made them when I wanted to give him a special treat. By the time I had got my biscuits well in the oven, and the tea-table set, the sleigh drove to the door. I was so glad to see John back safe and well that I almost forgot he had a wife. When he introduced her, I expected her to put out three 8 AUNT HANNAH'S LETTER TO HER SISTER. fingers ; but instead, she came and put both arms around my neck, and gave me a real hug and warm kiss. She was dressed in some soft brown stuff; in fact, she was brown all over brown eyes, brown hair and brown ribbons ; everything matched. How she got ribbons to exactly match her hair and eyes I don't see. Her cheeks were just a little pink, like my hyacinths. Such a pretty, delicate little thing. I don't wonder John fell in love with her. She looks~ young. What can she know about housekeeping ? She seems just about as fit to take upon herself the manage- ment of a house and the cares of a minister's wife as a butterfly. I know it is said ministers are poor hands to pick out wives, but I did hope John would have a little common sense, and not be taken by a pretty face. Well, I'm not going to croak. She's an affectionate little thing, anyhow, and treats me as if I were the greatest lady of the land. John thinks I didn't see the roguish face he put on when I called her " Martha," nor how her cheeks got pinker than usual, and she almost laughed, then turned it off. Young folks don't see into everything, though you couldn't make them believe it. I'm sure I don't care if she has a pretty face, if she only makes John a good, loving, prudent wife. But dear me, I have my fears. She looks too cityfied to make a good housekeeper. I'll miss my guess if I don't find AUNT HANNAH S LETTER TO HER SISTER. 9 that house all sixes and sevens in three months' time. I must own up, too, that I'm a little bit disap- pointed, for, to tell the honest truth, I had a wife picked out for John myself, though he didn't know a breath about it. Things are queer, any- how! It seems to me as if anybody could see with half an eye that Samantha Brown was the sort of wife he needed. You remember her mother, don't you Cynthia Hancock? She married Eli Brown, and they have lived thirty years next neighbors to us. Samantha is just like her mother smart and economical. She is a master hand at all sorts of work. It is hard to find her equal in making bread and biscuits and doughnuts. And such butter as she can make sweet and yellow and solid! Not many butter-makers like the Browns. Then Samantha can turn her hand to almost anything. She makes her own dresses, and she could have made John's shirts. She was a good scholar, too, when she was in school. To be sure, she has not what they call " style," neither does she look as if the north wind would blow her away. To my mind she is a wholesome-looking girl, and I like her. But what is the use of talking all this? I sup- pose if Providence had intended her for John, the boy would have taken a notion to her. I wish I could get over the habit of meddling io AUNT HANNAH'S LETTER TO HER SISTER. and fretting about the way things go. As if the Lord needed any of my help to manage affairs ! Only one can't help feeling sometimes that things are getting all wrong when you look at it one way. Now, why John should go and marry that little delicate creature, with her ribbons and ruf- fles and fine manners who will most likely be sick half the time, and have to hire her house- work done and her sewing in the bargain when there stood Samantha Brown, strong and smart and sensible, and pious besides, ready to jump at the chance, of course I know not. And what's more, I shall never be wiser by fretting over it. I should think I would have learned a lesson when you were married. You never knew how much opposed I felt to your marrying a mis- sionary. I was sure your health would break down, sure you were too young, sure you were not suited to the work. But how grandly it all turned out ! He does know best. I want to speak of another matter now. You ask if I am satisfied that I am doing my share of the work our Master left us to do. You did well to ask that question, Jane. I have been a beetle- headed woman for years, I'll admit. When I had given some flannel to old Mrs. Betts for her rheu- matism, and sent some potatoes and wood to the only other poor family we had, and put a dollar here and there among the different objects, I AUNT HANNAH S LETTER TO HER SISTER. I I seemed to feel that I had about done my part. But I've had what you might call an experience, and you are the only living soul I shall ever tell it to. I always had my own way of keeping my accounts ; whenever I sold anything I felt that part of it belonged to the Lord a wonderful small part, though so one of the columns held what was set apart for him, the other column was for myself. But one day when I was having my yearly reckoning, it struck me all of a sudden what a difference there was in the columns when they were footed up. How much better I had treated myself than I had my Lord! I didn't like the looks of it at all. The five dollars that I had set down for Foreign Missions, that had seemed so large to me, dwindled away to nothing. It seemed as if the Master was sitting over against the treasury again, and seeing, not what all the people put in, but me only, of the whole world, as if he stood and went over that account- book with me, and then gave me such a look something as he gave to Peter. Then my heart melted, and I saw everything clear as day for a few minutes this life, and the next one, and how I had been robbing him. That was the most wonderful night I ever spent. There was no sleeping done by me. I made an assignment of farm and everything to my dear Lord, and such peace and comfort as I had 12 AUNT HANNAH'S LETTER TO HER SISTER. in doing it ! Does he send his angels down yet to speak to stupid souls, or even come himself, maybe? Blessed, gracious Master! He made the way very plain to me, for here comes your letter telling how much you need money in your mission for another school build- ing; how heathen children were turned away because you had no room for them. I had been praying for years a kind of half-hearted word about all the heathen being brought to Christ, and here they were trying to come and could not, because I would not stretch out my hand and give them a lift ; the Lord's golden grain growing on every side of me, field on field, and I hoarding it away ! I said to myself "Now, Hannah Adams! Suppose you just turn things around for this year, at least. Put yourself in that other col- umn." So I did. After paying the hired help and putting by enough for necessaries, I doled out to myself, for clothes and anything else I wanted, just the sum I used to give away and it was precious little, I can tell you then I took the rest, except some to our Maplewood poor, and some for our own church, and carried it to the bank. And here is the check for you. Take it and build a school-house ; perhaps it will hire a teacher for a year beside. I had to do it up in short order, for Satan came parleying round when AUNT HANNAH'S LETTER TO HER SISTER. 13 I woke up in the night, telling me I was foolish ' to give so much, and I would end my days in the poor-house, and all that. I was afraid if I waited, that I should begin to agree with him. But I shall be mistaken if it doesn't turn out the best invest- ment I ever made. If I wasn't so old I would go myself and help you. Now, don't you go to thinking that I tell all this in a boasting spirit. I can say with Paul " Where is boasting, then? It is excluded." Nothing but shame and confusion of face belongs to me. Remember, there have been years and years of my life that I have been doling out little bits to him, and all that time came seed-time and harvest, the rains, the winds and the sunshine, everything my crops needed, and I gathered them in and stored them up and pulled down my barns and built greater, like that other "fool," and all the while that command upon me, "Go ye into all the world and preach the gospel," and I get- ting round it by handing out a dollar or two! Oh, I wonder he took any such gentle means as he did to bring me to my senses, and make me know it is more blessed to give than to receive. Martha promised to write me a long letter every week or two to make up for taking John away from me, she said. The child means to, I suppose, but I don't expect it. I know just what young folks' promises amount to. If she does I'll 14 AUNT HANNAH S LETTER TO HER SISTER. send them to you sometimes, then you can get acquainted with her, too, for it is one of the best ways of knowing what people are made of; that is, if they write honest letters. What would we have done all these years with- out yours ? They are so bright and good I really think they ought to be published, for you tell all the little things that one wants to know about a strange people. Good-by, dear Jane; may our heavenly Father bless you more and more. Your loving sister, HANNAH ADAMS. MIXED THINGS. CHAPTER II. MIXED THINGS. SHE sat quite alone in the pretty study, one trim foot patting somewhat restlessly on the mossy greenness of the carpet. A winsome little woman, still in brown, as Aunt Hannah had described her. Brown as to the soft silk of her hair, the depths of her eyes, and at this moment in a soft brown dress, without ribbons, with a bit of ruffle about the throat, the only thing that relieved the brownness. There was scarcely any pink on the cheeks this evening. Truth to tell, the young wife was very tired. In some of her conclusions Aunt Hannah was correct. The small lady in brown knew not much more about ordering her house than did the butterflies. Not that she had imagined this state of things herself when she took upon her the duties of a housewife. 1 6 MIXED THINGS. In her secret heart she believed herself to be unusually wise, and felt that she was about to astonish not only John, but all the parish, with the amount of skill and tact that she should dis- play in the ordering of her affairs. For nearly two weeks she and John had been alone, and there had certainly been some aston- ishment, but it was almost entirely on the part of the young wife. She had made a discovery ; to keep house with a mother whose room-door could be softly opened at any moment and the import- ant question propounded, " How long ought that juice to boil ? " or, "How much sugar does it take for such a pudding ?" was one thing, and to keep house with a mother three hundred miles away, and the next-door neighbor a prim, wiry-looking woman, with thin lips that shut over each other in a very suggestive manner lips that had already been overheard to say that "it seemed a pity for a minister to pick out a baby for a wife" and eyes that seemed always to be looking through her pantry window into the parsonage kitchen this was quite another thing. These were some of the thoughts now passing through the restless brain of Mrs. John, and had to do with the restless tap of her foot on the mossy carpet. She was just tired enough to have the entire subject of housekeeping assume for- midable proportions. How often had she with a MIXED THINGS. I/ complacent air listened to the sweet, low voice of her mother, as she told some friendly caller that her "daughter Mattie " superintended the cooking and managed all the affairs of the house as nicely as she could herself. Both mother and daughter believed this to be true. But now, with an expe- rience born in the last two weeks, the " daughter Mattie" knew that it was because her mother's room was on the same floor with the store-room and pantry that life in the old home moved on so smoothly, for the mother, who was unable to raise herself unaided from her pillow, could yet think and plan and suggest. It was Tuesday evening, and the two trying days of the week through which Mrs. Remington had just lived, had followed a Sabbath which had also been in some respects a trial. To begin with, the trouble which just now loomed itself up darkly before her, like a mountain over which she was expected to climb, and felt that she could not, was connected with bread. This small woman in brown had made and baked that day four loaves of bread which were unmistakably and hopelessly sour. Is there a young married woman in the land, having the ordering of her own house, who does not feel an instant throb of sympathy? I really think her astonishment and disappointment added to the bitterness. She had made bread before often in 1 8 MIXED THINGS. her mother's home ; therefore she had gone about her task with no sinking of heart, but with such an air of superior confidence that she smiled over the thought of the peering eyes from the kitchen of her neighbor, and felt quite willing to let them peer. After that bread was fairly out of the oven, she had closed the blinds of her pantry very tight, and drawn down the shade, with a vague fear in her heart that the perfume from those acid loaves would steal into the kitchen across the yard, and tell their tale of failure. What was the trouble? Oh, "its name was legion." In the first place, there had been in the old home a deft-handed maiden, carefully trained by the mother before the sorrowful accident that made her a prisoner in her bed ; a maiden whose duty it was to see that the fire was in just that state of clearness and steadiness which has so much to do with perfection from the oven. This same maiden had always her neat row of tins, shining with cleanliness, arranged on the baking- table, waiting for the young housekeeper's well- rounded loaves. In the parsonage kitchen there was just one pair of hands ; they went into the very depths of stickiness before the bread-tins were thought of at all. Even when their owner did think of them, she was for the moment only bewildered. It seemed so surprising not to be able to say MIXED THINGS. IQ "Jennie, the tins ; right away, please." However, she had gotten her hands out as best she could, and washed them, and given her tins an extra rubbing, and started afresh just in time to hear the door-bell ring. There was no "Jennie" to answer; she had neglected to tell John that her hands would be engaged, and he would be likely to hold to the arrangement she had herself proposed ; that noth- ing but an absolute necessity, of which she was to judge, should call him from his. study in the morning hours. There was no help for it, the bread must be left once more. It was the wiry woman next door, who wanted to borrow an egg, having discovered, in the midst of her baking, that she lacked just one. She saw a streak of flour on Mrs. John's cheek and a dab of dough on her apron, and little lumps of harden- ing dough here and there on the hurriedly-washed hands, and asked if it was baking-day here, too ; then remarked that her bread was just out of the oven. The flurried minister's wife, alarmed to find that she felt almost as though it would be a comfort to throw the egg at her caller, made all the haste she could back to her bread, her heart sinking the while. How late it must be ! She had forgotten that they sat so long over the let- ters this morning, and that she had taken time to read mother's once more when quite alone. 2O MIXED THINGS. There was much hurrying in the parsonage kitchen after that. Perhaps all would have gone well had not Dr. Crowther called to have a few minutes' talk with the minister on important bus- iness, and Mattie, ushering him into the little par- lor, had been shocked to find that the floor was still strewn with papers, and the chairs with books, just as they had left it the night before. It was extraordinary that there was no Jennie to to call upon. She had summoned John, and he had carried the doctor to his study, and not before he gave a hurried glance about the disorderly room. After that Mattie felt that she should have waited to brush and dust and arrange that room, even though they had no dinner at all ! I need not follow her through her nervous and constantly interrupted morning ; but if you had been there, you would not have been in the least surprised that she forgot the bread. When at last, several hours later in the day, she ran to it in dismay, you are prepared to hear that it had silently, and with "malice aforethought," done its meanest and stickiest. Oh, the oven, the oven ! The bread should have been not only in it, but out of it, by this time, and the fire had been forgotten entirely. Mrs. John was used to steady, well-behaved coals, and Jennie to "shake" them at just the right minute; how could she be MIXED THINGS. 21 expected to remember this snapping, sputtering wood that flamed up so suddenly and died out so soon? She did her best with fire and soda and kneading-board, but the bread was undeniably sour. She groaned in spirit over what her mother would have thought of it, or what Aunt Hannah would have said could she have seen her dear John bravely swallowing it for his supper. John, blessed man, made no comment whatever, until, in answer to his wife's earnest words, he was obliged to admit that it was a little tart. " It wouldn't be good bread if it wasn't sour," said the poor, self-accusing spirit opposite him ; "it isn't good yeast. I know it is too old, or the bread would not have been so long rising in the first place. We used to buy our yeast at the bakery. I don't know how I am going to man- age ; this is the only kind I can get, and I know I shall not succeed with it. It is not a bit like ours." "We'll have to make some," said John, with a deliciously superior air, and a smiling emphasis on the pronoun "we." "I remember stirring a mess for Aunt Hannah that she called hop yeast, and it used to hop around in a lively manner. I don't think it can be very hard work. Aunt Han- nah made it every week or two, I think." But his city-bred wife knew nothing about 22 MIXED THINGS. home-made yeast, and had a suspicion that neither did John, and the bread was sour, and the world looked dreary to her. All the drearier, I am sorry to say, because of the fact that the later hours of the afternoon had been spent at what they were pleased to call in that region, a "female" prayer-meeting. "Why do they use that term ?" she had asked John, and laughed as she asked it. "Wouldn't it sound queerly to say a 'male' prayer-meeting?" At the tea table she had tried to tell John about the meeting, and had not felt like laughing. "It wasn't pleasant, John; it was, well, dread- fully stiff ; I don't know any other word that will describe it. Almost every one was late, yet the meeting did not begin ; they sat around solemnly and looked at one another. At last some one ventured to ask Mrs. Jones to lead. She said that she was not prepared, and that she didn't feel competent to lead a meeting, anyway. Of course that made all the others feel as though they ought not to be 'competent,' and one and another refused. Then our next neighbor said ,she thought the minister's wife was the proper person to lead ; but by that time I was so sort of frightened that it seemed to me I couldn't lead anything, and I said I did not feel competent, either." The sentence closed with a shy glance at John, whose amused face had grown slightly grave. MIXED THINGS. 2$ "I am sorry you did that," he said, gently; "I would have been glad if you had taken the vacant place as a matter-of-course, and led the meeting as simply as you would have done the young peo- ple's gathering in your old home." Mrs. John shook her head. "I'm sorry, too, now," she said, humbly; "and I knew you would be, but it was a very different gathering from our young people's, I assure you. Mrs. Green was finally persuaded to lead; she is the last person I should have chosen. She selected a long hymn and read the whole of it. Think of reading a hymn, John, in a little informal prayer-meeting that is to last only an hour, when each person present had a book ! She isn't what might be called a good reader, either. Then they had a time getting some one to start the tune. They didn't ask me. Mrs. Jones said she was hoarse, and Mrs. Brown did not know any tune that would go with the words. At last I grew ashamed of myself, and started a tune that I thought every- body in the world knew, but hardly any one sang, and that frightened me. On the second verse it seems I changed the key. I don't know why, I am sure, but I pitched it so high that even those cats which troubled us so last night couldn't have squealed it. Of course I had to stop. 'It is very strange,' I said, 'I have often sung that tune.' But they all looked as solemn as though 24 MIXED THINGS. they were at a funeral. The ludicrous side of it came to me next, and I laughed. You needn't think they did, though. Tombstones couldn't have been more solemn. In short, John, the new minister's wife disgraced herself, and she knows it and feels badly about it, though she doesn't understand it one bit ; she meant to be as good as possible." The sentence had closed with a queer little sound that was much like a sob. John, wise- hearted man, had laughed pleasantly, and said that she mustn't mind these little things; that the people meant all right, he was sure ; that in regard to many things she had been brought up differently from them, and that they must take time to get accustomed to people's peculiarities. Then he had told her about the rose-bushes he was going to set out under her window as soon as the spring opened, and had been as cheery as a man could well be who was eating sour bread and stewed prunes which had been slightly scorched. After supper he had agreed to dry the dishes, and they were being very merry, when a knock interrupted, and the minister returned from answering it with the grave look returned to his face. He must go at once. That woman about whom he had told her on Sabbath was worse, was going to die, and she had not planned for death. "Deacon True says she is in mortal terror," said MIXED THINGS. 25 John, as he kissed the little dishwasher whose face was also now as grave as his own, and went away in haste. This was why she was alone in the pretty study, waiting. Going over, as she waited, the events of the day, of the two days, and their petti- ness and solemnities, sour bread, and prayer-meet- ings, and dish-washing, and death-beds, life looked strangely mixed to this young beginner at woman- hood. It seemed to her just then that the spring would never come, and no more rose* would ever bloom. In her heart was a longing to write a long letter to " mother," to tell her everything, and claim from her the fullness of sympathetic love which had been her portion all her life. To this end, she turned presently to the study table, and drew toward her pen and paper, and began the familiar "Dear mamma." Then came a vision of the sweet, pale face and love-lighted eyes, bending eagerly over the sheet to read the pre- cious words. Only sunshine should appear on those pages for her mother's eyes to read. No perplexities of the kitchen, however merrily told, should intrude. Her mother would be sure to "read between the lines," and grieve because she could not shield her darling from all roughnesses of the way. " She shall hear about the roses that are to be, 26 MIXED THINGS. and the sunshine that now is," resolved Mrs. John, bravely. "As for Mrs. Pryn and her pantry win- dow, and Mrs. Green and all the others, mamma shall have none of them. But I do wish I knew how to make soft yeast. I have it ! I'll write to Aunt Hannah. John will like that, and I'll tell her the whole story, because she is not my mother." The first sheet was pushed aside, and another commenced "Dear Aunt Hannah." GOOD BREAD AND GOOD MEETINGS. CHAPTER III. BY MRS. C. M. LIVINGSTON. GOOD BREAD AND GOOD MEETINGS. MAPLEWOOD, Feb. 18, 18 . MY DEAR MARTHA: I was highly pleased to receive a letter from you. I must say it was more than I expected. Young folks nowadays are not fond of the society of their elders. That you can sit down and write a long letter to your old aunt shows, at least, that you had good training. Your mother must have brought you up to have a little respect for old people, and there is none too much of that, as far as my observation goes. I do not often speak of this ; but I have had my feelings hurt more by young people since I begun to feel that I was an old woman than in any other way. I have been in families where young ladies would flirt in and out, not noticing me any more than if I had been a cat. If they had to sit down a few minutes, 28 GOOD BREAD AND GOOD MEETINGS. they would act as though they supposed I was so old I had forgotten the English language, or hadn't any thoughts. I know it is foolish to be worried about it, but I like young folks, and I want my heart to stay young just as long as I live. When I get to be a mummy or an oyster, I shall be glad to leave this world. That makes me think of the sick woman you wrote about. Poor soul, I have tried to pray for her, but I fear it wasn't with much faith. When a body has scorned the Lord's offer of mercy all her life, it seems almost too much to expect that he will receive just the dregs, as it were. We know he did receive one; and if it weren't for that dying thief, it would be hard to have a bit of faith about it. Yet when it comes to that, none of us gets a pass through the gate of the city because of our good lives. Sometimes when I get to thinking about that thief, the love and pity of the Lord seem so wonderful that I feel as if I must go right out and tell every poor sinner about it. You wish I would come and spend a year, do you ? Now, child, you think you do, I dare say. But that would be like a good many things that we think would make us happy; when we come to try them we see our mistake. No, no; it is best for young ones after they once fly from the home nest to set up independent of the old birds. GOOD BREAD AND GOOD MEETINGS. 2Q I tried once to help two young robins. They were building a nest in the old apple-tree right under my bedroom window, and they weren't making it a bit comfortable according to my way of thinking. I watched them until I couldn't stand it any longer. Then I hung little bunches of ravelings on the limbs in plain sight. The stubborn little things wouldn't notice them, but kept on weaving in bits of straw and hay; as if, of course, they knew best. One day they were both gone. I took a soft bit of wool and tucked it nicely into the nest. I thought when they once knew how warm it felt to the feet they would like it. But when that little housekeeper got back she was mad enough ! She made angry sort of chirps that sounded for all the world like scolding, and he helped her along in it, like any foolish young husband. They flew around as if they were crazy, and tore that nest to pieces in no time. That taught me a lesson. I shall never meddle with any more nests. I should like to help you about the bread and things. But, after all, experience is the best teacher. You won't let your bread run over many times after one such scrape. Of course, you may have the best flour and yeast in the world, and you may knead it for hours, as some do there isn't a bit of use in it, either and if you neglect it just a little too long before you 30 GOOD BREAD AND GOOD MEETINGS. bake it, you will have sour, miserable stuff, full of big holes. It is in making bread as it is in everything else that goes to ruin ; neglect gener- ally makes the trouble. When I went down East last summer, visiting, I left the prettiest garden you ever saw, and when I got back there was nothing to be seen but Canada thistles and burdocks as high as the fence. And I have many a time in my life got away down and away back ; my heart as full of weeds as my garden. What was the matter? Why, I let alone the precious word he gave us to feed upon and neglected the spot where I used to meet the Lord and speak to him and he to me. My experience is, that noth- ing thrives where the lazy jade, neglect, gets a foothold. But to come back to bread ; no good bread can be made without first-rate, lively, hop yeast. And I'm real glad you want to know how to make it, and don't depend on that abominable stuff they call "salt risings" and "milk emp/*&f"/ I think my receipt for hop yeast the best there is. I take a handful of hops and steep them in about a quart of water. Then I pare four middling- sized potatoes and grate them and strain the boil- ing hop water on them, stirring as I pour. Set it on the stove a few minutes and stir it until it thickens up. Put in a teaspoonful of salt and set it away to cool. When it is cool enough milk GOOD BREAD AND GOOD MEETINGS. 31 warm stir in a small teacup full of yeast, that must be saved out each time for the purpose. Likely you can get a little of your neighbor for the first. Cover it and set it in a warm room to rise ; every little while giving it a good stirring and leaving it standing in the pantry a couple of days. The oftener you stir it the whiter it will be. Then put it in a stone jar, cover it tight and put it in a cool place. It keeps a good deal longer than yeast that has flour and sugar in it. It will be quite thick when it is done, if it is right. That quantity is enough for a small family. I am glad, too, that you know when bread is sour. Not half the people do. Some pride them- selves on their handsome white bread ; and very likely it will be so sour that it won't be fit to put in any human stomach. But they never know it. Even the bread that just escapes being sour has been made to rise so many times that it has lost all its goodness and tastes like sawdust. It is white, and that's all that can be said about it. Basswood chips are white, too, but who wants to eat basswood ? You can count the folks on your fingers who know how to make a light, sweet loaf of hop-yeast bread the kind that tastes like a good, sweet nut. I do hope John will have such to eat ; for a man who works with his brains ought to be well nourished. 32 GOOD BREAD AND GOOD MEETINGS. Your prayer-meetings must be a good deal as ours in Maplewood were. We used to get together, half a dozen of us, and pray over our old prayers every Thursday afternoon in a dismal kind of way as if we didn't half believe in what we were praying about, nor care whether we got it or not. If the truth were told, I suppose we were all glad when the meeting was out. I think those were the sort of prayers that wouldn't reach up, though they were long enough for the matter of that. Some people might think, by the way you spoke, that you were opposed to praying for reforms and missions. But I am net going to think that I know what you mean better not pray for what you don't heartily want. I went to a good meeting when I was East a woman's meeting. (You're right about that ; I never did like being called a "female," instead of a "woman.") That was the best one I ever attended. It was in a large, pleasant room, and an old lady led it. She sat up there, looking as dignified as Martha Washington, with a bright, happy look, as if she expected a real good time. When the ladies came in she would introduce those who were not acquainted, saying "I think we all ought to know each other we that love the Lord." The chairs were placed so that we were all GOOD BREAD AND GOOD MEETINGS. 33 seated in a circle around the leader about twenty of us in all. "Let's sing 'Rock of Ages,'" she said. "We won't wait to read it ; an hour is so short." Now, it was new to me that an hour was a short time for a meeting, I know we always had hard enough work to fill it up in our meetings. The singing was good and lively, because some one started it off in a firm, strong voice, as if she wasn't afraid. That gave others courage. Then the leader prayed just for this that the Holy Spirit would help every one who spoke or prayed ; and that Jesus himself would be there. Then each one repeated a verse or two that told something about the Lord's mercies and lov- ing-kindness. There wasn't any waiting. After they had sung another verse, the leader said "Now, we won't waste any time waiting for each other. Let us each one speak a word of some particular thing, if we can, wherein the Lord has been merciful to us this last week." The woman next to her seemed in a hurry to tell what she had to say. She was one of those handsome, tasty women, too looked as if she likely had all she wanted of this world's goods. But her words showed that her treasure wasn't on the earth. She said her heart was so full of joy she did not know how to tell it. Her only son, who was in Philadelphia, studying medicine, had 34 GOOD BREAD AND GOOD MEETINGS. been but a half and half Christian for years. "Yesterday," she said, "I got a letter from him. He says he has given all of himself to the Lord now, and he has peace like a river. Oh, I can not tell you how glad I am that the Lord has answered my prayer." Then some one asked about consecration if it was everybody's duty ; another quoted a text, proving that it was. Then another pulled a little book out of her pocket, and read what that wonderful man, Mr. Finney, thought about it. Another said a word, and another ; and, before they knew it, they were all talking away as socia- bly as if they'd been at a quilting or sewing society. When there was a little pause, that woman, who could sing like a robin, struck up " Now I resolve, with all my heart, With all my powers, to serve the Lord." After the singing, a woman in a coarse blanket shawl and an old faded bonnet spoke, and these are the very words she said "Some of you have heard how I lost all my money. I've been years and years digging and scraping by the hardest work to earn it, for I made it all by washing. I put it in the bank, that I thought was as safe and strong as the hills. And now it is gone all gone! But it's not GOOD BREAD AND GOOD MEETINGS. 35 about that I'll be talking. I've been to Cedar Creek to stay a week with my daughter. She and her husband have been converted. Now, isn't that better than gold ? The Lord has taken that, but he has given me what is better. I never spent such a happy week in my life. Besides, he took out of my heart the dreadful hate I felt at first for the man who cheated me out of my hard earnings. I can pray for him. I'm going to work again with my soul full of joy, and I shall sing as I work. He will keep me. I have his promise. Isn't that better than a bank-note ? " Then a young girl told how she had been a member of the church four years, but she hadn't been a happy Christian. She had tried to belong to Christ, and follow fashion and gaiety. "But I can't," she said; "the two won't go together." She said she was miserable; got so she didn't enjoy the world or religion, either. Sometimes she'd think she'd give it all up, but she was afraid to do that. Then she gave up her gay life, and determined to be very good. She read good books, and went to all the meetings, and gave to the poor, but that didn't help her. "One day," said she, "Jesus showed it all to me that the doing or not doing wasn't going to be of any use till I rested with all my heart on him ; and now I am happy since I learned to trust." Then a woman said "I want to thank him 36 GOOD BREAD AND GOOD MEETINGS. before you all to-day for a great thing he has done for me. I told him I would. I don't suppose any of you know that I have a violent temper, for I usually control it before strangers. I fell into a grievous habit of scolding. I scolded the servants and my children, and even my husband. Every- body dreaded my tongue. I was sorry for it when I got over my vexation. Often I promised my Saviour I would not do it any more ; but before I knew it something would go wrong, and I would scold again. One day, when I was in despair, I got to thinking if the Lord could do such a won- derful thing as change the heart in the first place, he could also break the chains of a sinful habit, I went and told him that he knew I had tried, again and again, to conquer it, but I could not. Then the Lord put it into my heart to call quickly to him when I felt my anger rising. I have done it now for many weeks, and have been wonder- fully kept from my besetting sin. Don't think I am boasting. I do not do it ; I could not. I deserve no more credit for it than you do because the sunshine streams into these windows and makes the room bright and pleasant." There was one woman who had not said a word. She had a pale face, and wore an old, thin shawl. "I haven't anything joyful to tell," she said. "My husband is good and kind, if he would let GOOD BREAD AND GOOD MEETINGS. 3/ drink alone. He does try to, but he is terribly tempted. We have four children, and nothing to live on. If the Lord doesn't have mercy on us, I don't know what we'll do. I came to this meet- ing to ask you to pray for my husband." " Let us pray," said the leader. We all knelt, and those women one after an- other, poured out their hearts before the Lord. They rejoiced with the joyful ones, and cried with the sorrowful drunkard's wife. How they did pray for that tempted man ! How earnest they seemed, pleading to be entirely consecrated. It was just beautiful when we arose from our knees, to see them all, rich and poor, gather around the drunkard's wife and speak kindly to her, and promise to help her. Such prayers mean some- thing, to my mind. I went out of that meeting feeling as if I had had a taste of heaven ; rebuked, too, for I had thought, of course, that all the good people lived at Maplewood, and that city people were on the high road to destruction. I made up my mind that our prayer- meetings at home should be different if I could bring it about. Why shouldn't we bring our every-day joys and troubles to our meetings, and talk and pray over them ? Why shouldn't we pray for Tom Jackson and Joe Miller, who were going to ruin with drink, instead of praying in a general, roundabout way, that "the flood of intern- 38 GOOD BREAD AND GOOD MEETINGS. perance that is sweeping over the land may be arrested " ? Our meetings are better. Tell John Aunt Jane writes that the only trouble with their work in India now is the lack of money to carry it on. The way is open before them on all sides. There are even missionaries waiting to be sent, but the "Board" is cramped, and can't send them. I think just as you and John do about the word "sacrifice." I don't believe that even after we have done our best our Father likes to hear it from us, any more than parents would be pleased to hear their children ranking themselves among the martyrs because they had been obedient. I shouldn't a bit won- der it, when our eyes get a glimpse of the glory prepared for us, we shall be so ashamed of our "sacrifices" that we will beg to be allowed to go back to earth and lay down our lives for him. Tell John, too, that I'm getting to be a sort of missionary myself in my old age, amongst the fac- tory hands. It is queer, the way it came about. I'll tell him some time. But I begin to see why Sister Jane is so happy in her work; the wages are good. You say John thinks there are very few women like me, and I should hope it was so. I am glad the boy loves me, but One who is best acquainted with me knows that I don't deserve any praise. GOOD BREAD AND GOOD MEETINGS. 39 I am saving a little jar of October butter for you, as sweet as the day it was made, and some nice honey. You and John must come over and see me before long. That you may be a blessing, to each other is my daily prayer. Your affectionate AUNT HANNAH. The way it came about that Aunt Hannah had a mission was this ; during the last years a fac- tory had established itself two miles from Maple- wood. The usual community had sprung up about it, but as yet there was no church nearer than the village. In consequence, the children of the little hamlet were growing up to regard the Sabbath as a mere play-day. Mr. Brewster went over occasionally to preach, but both he and Mrs. Adams had been in trouble of mind for some time about these heathen at their doors. The subject had been brought to the notice of the church, and an effort made to establish a Sabbath School. Nobody, however, was willing to undertake the work, so nothing more than talk had yet been accomplished. One night Mrs. Adams was wakeful. Sleep was impossible ; the children of Factoryville were on her heart. Something must be done for them at once. She went over all the puzzle. It was a shame to let things go on as they were. But 4O GOOD BREAD AND GOOD MEETINGS. suppose she got up a school herself, where could a superintendent be found ? " I can't find anybody, and I can't chop one out of wood," she declared almost fretfully, as she turned her pillow over. At last her decision must have been reached, for she fell asleep in a peaceful state of mind, and the next afternoon, immediately after dinner, pre- pared to act upon her resolutions. She had spent the morning in the pantry making a quantity of delicious little seed-cakes. By two o'clock Dolly and the old carriage were at the door, and Mrs. Adams and a bag of cakes set out to found a mission. "I shall do my part," she had resolved, "even if I don't see the way clear to the end. After I've done what I can, the Lord will do what I I can not." She first called upon the trustees of the school- house, and secured the privilege of meeting there for an hour each week. Then she visited the mothers. Her common sense, her tact and her warm heart fitted her for such work, as no train- ing in a Bible school could, if she had been lack- ing in these. Every woman in Factoryville, before that afternoon was over, felt that Mrs. Adams was her personal friend, and all promised that their children should be at the school-house at the appointed hour. GOOD BREAD AND GOOD MEETINGS. 4! The next step this wise general took was to happen along just as school was dismissed. She drew up to the roadside and let Dplly nibble grass, while she got acquainted with the children. It was not difficult Young people of all ages had an affinity for Aunt Hannah. She asked them to get her some of the scarlet maple leaves on a tree in the pasture, and forthwith every boy and girl scampered to do her bidding, bringing treasures of glowing leaves, whereupon they were liberally rewarded with seed-cakes. Then Mrs. Adams took into her buggy some of the younger ones and brought them on their way, and the tri- umph was complete. The next thing was to find some one who was willing to take charge of the school, but all pleaded inability of some sort. Saturday night came and nobody was provided. "Go yourself," said Mr. Brewster; "nobody is fitter." And Mrs. Adams went, after again spending a sleepless night, and protesting that she was get- ting old, and was "slow of speech." The One who silenced that other objector, promising, "I will teach thee what thou shalt say," overcame her reluctance also. She attempted nothing that first Sunday but teaching the children a passage of Scripture and telling them a Bible story; but in her graphic way of telling it accomplished much, gaining their undivided attention, and 42 GOOD BREAD AND GOOD MEETINGS. awakening thought and conscience. After that Mrs. Adams always went without protest. Two other women, like-minded with herself, accom- panied her, one of whom could sing. And so the Factory ville mission was estab- lished on a firm basis. One of its chief charms was the Bible story at the close of the school. But it had no superintendent. Aunt Hannah would not allow herself to be called by that name. TOTAL DEPRAVITY. 43 CHAPTER IV. "TOTAL DEPRAVITY." AS Rev. John Remington arose from his break- fast-table one morning, he made the remark to his wife that they certainly must try to get out together that afternoon and begin an assault upon their calling-list ; that the Pritchards, especially, should be called upon, as they were among the first at the parsonage, and were inclined to be sensitive. Whereupon Mrs. John, with two pink spots glowing on her cheeks, partly from excitement and partly the effect of having broiled the steak under difficulties, declared that she did not care if the Pritchards were not called upon in a year. Then had John, with his gravest air and a note of something very like reproach in his voice, said "Don't let us begin in that way, Mattie dear. 44 TOTAL DEPRAVITY. Let us resolve to make this people ours, with all their imperfections. I presume they have faults, even as we have, but as much as possible let us close our eyes to them, as we do, on occasion, to those of our best and dearest, and resolve to like them, in spite of their faults." He had come around the little table to kiss her at the close of this sentence, and had stroked the brown head with a tender hand for a moment ; and Mattie had returned the kiss, but said never a word, though he lingered a moment for it, and, she fancied, looked disappointed as he closed the door of the dining-room. Mrs. Mattie could not help it. Just then she had no words to offer. She considered that she had been unselfish and Christian to an unusual degree, and John knew nothing about it. She felt that she did not like Mr. Pritchard, "in spite of his faults," and she was certainly not going to pretend that she did. The truth was, she had come into too recent contact with him. Certain words of his had spoiled for her one of the fairest Sundays of her life. She recalled the scene a plain, large church, well filled with people, most of them plainly dressed, belonging to the class known as well-to-do farmers; the minister her minister preaching to them from the words "Present your bodies a living sacrifice" strong, terse sentences, thrilling from his very soul; TOTAL DEPRAVITY. 45 burning a way, the young wife thought, into the hearts of his hearers. She, his wife, who was certainly disposed to listen critically, if any mor- tal could, paid him the high compliment of forget- ting for the space of five minutes that he was her husband, and gave herself up to the solemn and self-searching influences which the sermon set in motion. Following the "Amen" of the benedic- tion so closely that it startled her, came the voice of Mr. Pritchard, whose family pew was behind her own. "A very pretty sermon, young madam," he said, holding out his fat, pudgiky hand for her to clasp, " a very pretty sermon, indeed ; went along as smooth as grease. But it shows plain enough that that husband of yours is young. By the time his hair is as gray as mine, he will know that a man must look out for No. I, and be pretty sharp about it, too. Just tell him so, with my compliments, will you? He, he, he!" No laugh that Mrs. Remington had ever heard had seemed so disagreeable as the one which accompanied this jarring sentence. She kept her voice low and quiet by a strong effort of will, but her answer seemed to bewilder Mr. Pritchard. "Do you think, sir, that the Lord Jesus was mistaken when he gave us those directions through his servant ? " " How ! " said Mr. Pritchard. 46 TOTAL DEPRAVITY. "Why, my husband did not make the text, you know. It is the Lord's own message. I ask if, in your opinion, the Lord was mistaken in sup- posing it to be of practical value?" "Ah!" he said. "Well" another long pause "I'll tell you what I do think, madam; the kind of doctrine that that young husband of yours preached this morning will do first-rate for ministers, and for them who haven't got to earn their own living. When folks are supported by the church, you know, it is a very different thing from having to earn your bread by the sweat of your brow, and save a good slice for the minister besides. That takes hard digging, and lots of it. He, he, he!" Mr. Pritchard's momentary embarrassment had passed. He considered that he had made a sharp answer, and was entirely himself again. He shook himself like a great dog as he laughed, and waddled out of the seat in a tremor of satisfac- tion, while the red glow on Mrs. Remington's face was rapidly changing into almost a pallor. What mockery it was to preach such solemn and uplift- ing truths to people like these ! It required her utmost effort at self-control not to tell John the whole story as soon as they were at home. She put the longing to do so sternly aside. His Sabbath should not be burdened with such things ; she would wait until to-morrow, TOTAL DEPRAVITY. 47 when he would be rested. And by to-morrow, thinking much over that sermon, she had reached the heights of unselfishness, and resolved not to tell him at all ; it could do no possible good ; it might depress him. She would bear burdens of that sort for him ; and it gave her a little glow of satisfaction to feel that she was doing so. But it was certainly hard, having silently shouldered so heavy an annoyance, to be spoken to in that almost reproachful tone, as though it was a spe- cial indication of depravity in her to shrink from calling on the Pritchards. For a minute and a half she wished she had told him the whole story. Then she made another heroic resolve; she would put the whole thing aside and give her entire mind to the making of hop yeast. This subject reminded her of Aunt Hannah's letter, and a bright smile flitted over her face as she thought. What a delightful letter it had been! John's face had fairly shone with pride and pleas- ure as she read it to him. "Blessed old Auntie!" he had said; "I use the word old as a kind of endearment ; Aunt Hannah never seems, and I think never will seem, old to me. She is my mother, you know; the only one I remember, and I think mothers never grow old. How indignant it makes me tq think of her being ignored in the way she has been. I should not suppose that the pertest young miss would be 48 TOTAL DEPRAVITY. likely to bestow such treatment on Aunt Han- nah. She is a woman who ought to command respect wherever she goes." Then they had gone off into one of their inter- esting little arguments, which almost any ques- tion started, and which was so pleasant to these two. Mattie had declared that she thought both John and Aunt Hannah were too hard on young people ; that quite often they appeared indif- ferent to deaf persons, for instance, because they were timid, and the situation was embarrassing. There was her friend Fanny Mills, who would chatter like a magpie to mamma, but had never a word for old Aunt Patty, who used to spend part of each winter with them, and who was a very interesting old lady, but extremely deaf. One day she asked Fanny why it was that she did not talk to Aunt Patty Houston, and she admitted that it was because she could not think of anything to say that was worth shouting ; that when she had squealed out for the third time that it was a pleasant day, or something equally orig- inal, and had not yet been heard, she was so mor- tified to think that she had troubled an old lady with such a triviality, that it kept her from ven- turing again for a long while. Then John had laughed, but insisted that Fanny's self-conscious- ness was at fault in that instance, and that she ought to rise above such mortifications, and Mat- TOTAL DEPRAVITY. 49 tie had answered him brightly, and, in the enjoy- ment of their own tongues, they had almost for- gotten to finish the letter. Over the theological portion of the letter the minister had looked grave. "Aunt Hannah has some peculiar ideas," he said; "they will not bear writing out. Her prac- tice is all right, but when she comes to explana- tion, she gets into fog." "Why," asked Mattie, with an air half timid, half mischievous, "do you think that woman ought to have kept on scolding, and scolded a little less each week, until by and by she over- came the habit entirely, when she had become old and gray and the children were too old to be scolded ? " He gave her a bright look in recognition of her sarcasm, but answered soberly "I would not limit the grace of God, and the things he will do for us are beyond the power of our comprehension, though we try our best ; but it is a mischievous way some people have of talk- ing as though they had nothing whatever to do .on this spiritual journey. We are to put on Christ in order to overcome the world, the flesh and the devil, and the better we come to know him, the more entirely do we clothe ourselves in his garments ; and we come to know him by daily study and fellowship with him ; so that it 5