lE-UNIVERSjfc, 
 
 
 
 knvaan-i^
 
 THE 
 
 ELM TREE TALES. 
 
 BY 
 
 F. IRENE BURGE SMITH 
 
 Little know they who dwell 'mid rural shades, 
 Of life's great struggles. Poverty and waut 
 In direst forms, are never seen, where bloom 
 And verdure revel, but within the dark 
 And loathesome cellars of the crowded town, 
 They hide their tattered forms. 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 MASON BROTHERS. 
 
 1 8 5 .
 
 Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1855, by 
 
 MASON BROTHERS, 
 IB the Clerk's Office of the District Court, for the Southern District of New York 
 
 STEREOTYPED BT PRINTED BT 
 
 THOMAS B. SMITH, JOHN A. GRAT, 
 
 82 & Si Beekman Street 97 Cliff St.
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 " There is a wisdom in calling a thing fitly. Names should note particulars." 
 PROVERBIAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 To make the title of this book significant to 
 you, I must transport you to a sylvan nook, far 
 from the city's boundaries, where an old stone cot 
 tage peeps forth from the thick foliage. Down 
 through the maple avenue you will take your 
 pleasant route, past the willow and alder clumps, 
 and the ancient mill, that hangs its idle arms list 
 lessly by its sides on and on, over the little style, 
 and the rustic bridge, which spans the rivulet, 
 until you reach the giant elm that spreads its 
 broad branches far and wide. Books and work are 
 scattered about on the verdant turf, bright flowers 
 peep forth from amid the green, and many a fair 
 face greets you with its frank and cordial wel 
 come. The sky is very blue and clear, and the 
 summer's breath comes refreshingly to you through
 
 VI * P KEF ACE. 
 
 the leafy screen, as you seat yourself upon a mossy 
 stone and join in the merriments of the happy 
 circle gathered there. But you are quite too late 
 for the manuscript volume which a guest from the 
 city has been reading aloud for the amusement of 
 the group. 
 
 Perhaps you have lost nothing, however. I have 
 obtained permission to give it you for a more leis 
 urely perusal. I hope it will please you. 
 
 When a stranger goes to your door seeking your 
 regard and patronage, you naturally look for some 
 note of introduction, which generally reads some 
 what after this fashion : 
 
 " Any attentions you may bestow upon my 
 friend , will confer an especial favor upon 
 
 " Yours truly, 
 
 BROOKLYN, October 27, 1S55.
 
 THE ELM-TREE TALES. 
 
 JENNIE GRIGG: 
 
 THE 
 
 S T R E E T - S \V E E P E R . 
 
 NANNIE BATES: 
 
 HUCKSTER'S DAUQHTER 
 
 ARCHIBALD MACKIE: 
 
 LITTLE CRIPPLE.
 
 JENNIE GRIG, 
 
 THE STREET SWEEPER; 
 
 OB THE 
 
 VICISSITUDES OF LIFE.
 
 JENNIE GRIG, 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 POOR little girl ! How sadly came her wailing tones on 
 the frosty air, while the multitudes that hurried past were 
 hidden from the chilling blasts by warm and furry garments ! 
 
 There were some humane ones who lifted her softly from 
 the ground, and bore her carefully to the nearest apothe 
 cary's, to examine the extent of her injuries and a slight 
 figure clad in the deepest weeds, followed after and held the 
 child's hand, and bathed her forehead, while the surgeon 
 bound up the broken limb. 
 
 " She was such a pinched wee thing to be sweeping those 
 dangerous crossings," said the lady; "no wonder the 
 heedless crowd jostled her down, and nearly crushed her 
 tiny body." 
 
 " Is not her consciousness returning, doctor ?" continued 
 she, addressing the surgeon, as a slight flush was beginning 
 to be perceptible upon the little girl's cheek. 
 
 The child had lain in a kind of stupor from the time of 
 the accident, and now, as her dark eyes slowly opened, she 
 gazed faintly upon the curious faces that were gathered
 
 12 JENNIE GRIG. 
 
 around her, until she met the sweet yet sorrowful glance 
 of the strange lady then, bursting forth into a wild and 
 bitter sobbing, she cried, " Who now will help my poor 
 weak mother, and my sick and dying father ! nine pennies 
 only have I earned to-day, and all is lost in the muddy 
 street oh ! who will get them bread and coals, now their 
 Jennie can not work !" 
 
 
 
 " God will provide, only trust Him, poor child," said the 
 kind lady, as she wiped the tears that had moistened her 
 own eyes at sight of the child's grief. 
 
 " Where do your parents live, my little girl," asked the 
 benevolent surgeon "we must be getting you home, or 
 they will be anxious about you now that the night is 
 coming on." 
 
 The child started as she heard the word " home" and 
 blushing the deepest crimson, replied, " If you please, sir, I 
 am able to walk now, and will go alone, for dear mamma 
 would be angry if I had strangers with me she never 
 sees any one but father, now." 
 
 '"T would be madness to send her forth into this wintery 
 air with a newly broken arm," said the lady " if you will 
 come with me, little Jennie, we will soon satisfy your 
 parents that you are in comfortable quarters, my carriage 
 is at the door, and John shall go alone to your home with 
 a message" and, calling her servant, she bade him bring 
 one of the soft robes from the carriage, and wrapping it 
 closely about the shivering child, she had her conveyed to 
 her own noble home.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 UP, up, up till you reached the very topmost room in a 
 
 rickety building in street, and there they were a 
 
 woman in neat but coarse raiment, seated by a flickering 
 candle, stitching for the life, and with every effort for the 
 life, stitching out the life. Near her, on a lowly bed, lay 
 her suffering husband, watching the wan fingers as they 
 busily plied for him who would fain have spent his last 
 strength for their rest. 
 
 The frosty breath of a December night came through 
 the chinks in the roof, and around the windows, and left 
 its bitter impress upon the sick and weary. A few coals 
 partially ignited, seemed to mock at the visions of warmth 
 and comfort they inspired, and the simmering of the kettle 
 that hung low over the coals, made the absence of a cheery 
 board, and a happy group around it only the more pain 
 fully apparent. 
 
 The sick man closed his eyes, as if to shut out the 
 memory of those wasted fingers that were ever so zealously 
 moving, and then looking wistfully at the murmuring 
 kettle, he said, " Has not the child come yet, Mary ? per 
 haps she has enough for our scanty meal to-night, and yet
 
 14 JENNIE GRIG. 
 
 my heart misgives me on her account is it not very late 
 for her to stay away ? She is such a timid little thing, and 
 always flies to us before the darkness begins to come! 
 Her's is a cruel age, and a loathsome employment. 
 Would God I had died, Mary, ere it had come to this !" 
 and the poor man hid his face in the bedclothes, and 
 moaned like a stricken child. The patient wife laid aside 
 her work, and taking the well-worn Bible from its sacred 
 resting-place, read to him the thirty-seventh Psalm then 
 rising and going to the window, she pressed her ear against 
 the pane, and listened for her Jennie's coming. Hark ! a 
 step is on the stairs ! The husband and wife both started 
 it was a heavy, lumbering tread not the soft foot-falls 
 of their gentle little one, that brought music even to their 
 dismal abode : 
 
 " Some one is knocking, Mary," said the husband, and, 
 as he spoke, the door opened, and a man appeared with a 
 note and a basket. 
 
 "Is Mrs. Grig here," asked the man. 
 
 " That is my name," replied the frightened woman whose 
 maternal heart immediately suggested that something had 
 happened to her child. 
 
 " Tell me of my darling. Is she hurt ? Is she dead ?" 
 then seizing the note which the servant held out to her 
 she read as follows : 
 
 " Mr. and Mrs. Grig must not be alarmed about their 
 little Jennie. She has met with a slight accident ; but her
 
 JENNIE GRIG. 15 
 
 life is not endangered, and she is where every attention will 
 be bestowed upon her. If they will spare her to me until 
 she is wholly restored, they will confer the greatest of 
 favors upon their friend, 
 
 "HELENA DUNMORE. 
 
 "I send a few delicacies, which I hope her sick father 
 will relish. Jennie wishes to see her mother before she 
 sleeps, will she come to her an hour this evening 1" 
 
 The servant left the name of the street, and the number 
 of the house where his mistress lived, and departed, with 
 an humble reverence, for there was an innate aristocracy in 
 Mrs. Grig that commanded the respect of all who saw her, 
 even though the vicissitudes of life had robbed her of the 
 external marks of rank and elegance. " God be praised P 
 said she, as she pressed her lips to the pale brow of her 
 now hopeful husband, " Our house is not left unto us deso 
 late, neither has our Father forsaken us in our time of 
 necessity. Surely He giveth bread to the hungry, and 
 filleth the fainting soul with gladness !" Then spreading 
 the tempting viands before the famished invalid, she smiled 
 with the cheerfulness of her earlier days, as she saw with 
 what relish he ate and drank. 
 
 "When they had finished their unexpected, but welcome 
 meal, she placed the fragments carefully away, and blow 
 ing out the light, which she must save for her midnight 
 toils, she left the house in order to seek her child.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE stars were shining tranquilly, and the moon looked 
 calmly down upon the great and noisy city, imparting their 
 quietness and peace to the heart of the eager mother who 
 threaded her way to her sick child. Long and tedious 
 was the distance, but she felt it not, excepting that she 
 shrunk from the rough contact of brawling and wicked 
 men, who rudely pushed past her, as they hurried on to 
 their nightly debauches. 
 
 Oh ! how sensitive was she then to the thought of the 
 horrors that ever threaten the innocent and unprotected, if 
 forced by their sad necessity to encounter the vile and 
 polluted ! and how resolutely did she determine thence 
 forth to shield the child of her love from all such dangers, 
 even though her own life were the forfeit of her care. 
 
 She gazed upward into the clear heavens, as if to gather 
 strength for her future trials, and then pressing quickly on, 
 was soon in the presence of Mrs. Dunmore. The transition 
 from her own dreary room to the luxurious and tasteful 
 apartment where she now found herself, was so completely 
 bewildering, that she stood for a moment, as if in a strange 
 and mysterious dream. Every thing that taste could
 
 JENNIE GRIG. 17 
 
 desire, or wealth procure, was lavished upon this sanctum, 
 where Mrs. Dunmore, since her double bereavement, found 
 her chief delight yet amid all the splendor of the place, 
 were tokens of that presence from which naught can 
 exempt us. 
 
 A little portrait draped in black, hung above a crimson 
 couch, whereon lay a child of exquisite beauty. Her tiny 
 form was wrapped in the purest muslin, and a light blue 
 cashmere shawl was thrown negligently over her. One 
 little foot, encased in a delicate slipper, hung over the edge 
 of the couch, and her long dark curls fell about the pillow 
 in the richest profusion. 
 
 In one hand she held a pretty vinaigrette, and the other 
 was bound in soft cloths, and slightly confined to her waist 
 by a silkeji sash. As the door of the room opened, she 
 flung off the shawl that covered her, and tried to rise ; 
 but the effort was too much for her exhausted frame, and 
 she fell faintly back, murmuring " Mother, dearest mother !" 
 
 In one moment the poor woman was kneeling beside the 
 couch, clasping the sweet child to her bosom, who with her 
 one little arm girdled that sacred neck, and with smiles 
 and kisses awakened her to a perfect consciousness of her 
 safety and of her happy position. 
 
 Mrs. Dunmore had all this time been partially concealed 
 by the drapery of the window, but as she moved from the 
 recess Jennie's quick ear caught the sound of her step, and 
 she whispered to her mother, who arose, and with some 
 confusion at the novelty of her situation and the meanness
 
 18 JENNIE GRIG. 
 
 of her attire, advanced to meet the gentle widow, saying, 
 " Jennie tells me you are the kind lady who befriended her 
 in her distress I have not words to thank you, dear madam, 
 for your pity, and care for my unfortunate child ; but if 
 the prayers of an earnest heart will avail before God, the 
 choicest of Heaven's blessings shall be your reward." 
 
 " A glance at that portrait," said Mrs. Dunmore, " will 
 betray to you the motive for any unwonted interest in your 
 precious child ; but were it simply a humane act, the 
 thought of having performed one's duty is a sufficient rec 
 ompense still, I ask another, and that is, that your little 
 one may supply to me the place of my darling ' Bella.' I 
 know," continued she, as she noticed the flush upon the 
 mother's face, and the increased pulsations of her heart, 
 "how great a sacrifice I ask, and I can not press you to give 
 up your own right over the treasure God has bestowed 
 upon you ; but I would so far share that blessing with you, 
 as to keep your little Jennie always near me, and to assist 
 you in your care for her comfort and advancement." 
 
 Mrs. Grig was struck with the delicacy and refinement 
 of Mrs. Dunmore's manner toward her ; instead of bluntly 
 offering to adopt her child, with the evident feeling that 
 it was too good a bargain to require a moment's wav 
 ering, she proposed it to her in the light of a favor con 
 ferred upon herself, and in which they would both ever 
 have a mutual interest. The poor woman could not see 
 ' that her own apparent good breeding had in Mrs. Dun 
 more's estimation diminished the distance in their rela-
 
 JENNIE CiEIG. 19 
 
 tive positions, so that a free and full sympathy was com 
 patible with her dignity, as well as the dictate of her heart. 
 She looked upon her child as she lay- there, in her now 
 adorned loveliness ; she gazed about the room so filled 
 with comfort and delight, and as her thoughts wandered 
 from these blessings to her own cheerless home, and to 
 the past few months of destitution ; and as visions of 
 weary days of toil, and nights of cold and hunger and 
 wretchedness, and the shadow of that lovely little one re 
 turning from her loathsome labors, with muddy garments, 
 and a worn and saddened face, passed before her, she 
 shrunk from the latter alternative, and placing the hand of 
 her child in that of her adopted mother she said, with the 
 calmness of a settled purpose " It will make a sad void in 
 our desolate home, but God has opened your heart to her 
 before she is left alone, and His goodness shall be my con 
 stant theme of gratitude ; you will allow her to come to us 
 every day while her poor father foes ; his pains will be 
 lightened by her presence, anjp^t wili%3mfort me to see the 
 eyes that have beamed upon me these nine long years, 
 more joyously beaming as I hasten to the end of my pil 
 grimage. You will love this kind lady, will you not, my 
 child ?" said she to the little girl, by whom she was again 
 kneeling " and be to her a dear and dutiful daughter, if 
 you would please your own parents." 
 
 " Love her, dear mother ? Who could help loving ti 
 beautiful and kind, and good ! and is she not beautiful, 
 and has she not been kind and good to me when others
 
 20 JENNIE GRIG. 
 
 did but rail at me, and jostle me down in the crowded 
 street ! Oh ! yes, I ' will indeed love her, very, very 
 dearly !" and she clung to the hand of the widow that held 
 her own, and caressingly fondled and kissed it, until her 
 mother laid her gently back upon her pillow, and arose to 
 return to her home. 
 
 
 -
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE sick husband lay watching the moonbeams as they 
 came through the window and played fantastically upon 
 the walls, and his thoughts went far away to a pleasant 
 spot beneath a group of willows, by a gently flowing stream, 
 where the moonbeams once played upon the fair face of 
 his Mary, and he sighed heavily as he reviewed the many 
 changes that had brought them where they now were. 
 Many a sunny hour came flashing upon his memory, with 
 its dear and hallowed associations ; the early days of their 
 marriage when their home was green and sylvan the 
 gathering of friends on every fesjive occasion the birth 
 of their sweet babe that brought with it such new and 
 blessed ties ; and then the sunny hours departed, and the 
 clouds covered them ; the days of sickness came and their 
 property fled away, and with their wealth went their 
 friends from them. Weary months of toil in a strange 
 city was thenceforward their portion ; a sick-bed was the 
 strong man's heritage, and days of fasting and misery 
 and labor devolved on the delicate wife. The child 
 had been nursed in the lap of luxury Avent out into 
 dirty streets to get her bread from pitying strangers, and
 
 22 JEXNIE GKIG. 
 
 the three husband, wife, and child were alone in the 
 wide world, with their burden of poverty and woe, all the 
 harder to bear from the fact that they were unused to it. 
 Thus mused the sick man in the solitude of his chamber, 
 and while he mused a mellower gleam of light fell .upon 
 his pillow and illumined his shrunken features, and a soft 
 step was by the bed-side, and a beloved voice in his ear, 
 telling him news that made him willing to die. God had 
 sent them a friend ! Even when he had been repining at 
 the decrees of His Providence, that Providence was work 
 ing out his best and truest good. He felt that his days 
 would be few upon the earth, and that his Mary would 
 soon follow him ; but their darling Jennie would be shel 
 tered and taught, and that by a true disciple of their Lord 
 and Master. No more anguish lest his precious child should 
 become a prey to the wary and dissolute ; no more grief at 
 her withered, cheerless youth ; no more sorrowings for the 
 wants that he could not appease. " Oh ! too much ! too 
 much mercy and goodness hast thou shown toward Thine 
 unworthy servants, my Saviour and my God !" murmured 
 he, and a violent hemorrhage ensued, occasioned by the 
 sudden shock of the unlocked for joy. 
 
 -
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 BEFORE another week had elapsed, Mr. and Mrs. Grig 
 were comfortably settled in a pleasant cottage belonging 
 to Mrs. Dunmore, whose increasing benevolence had found 
 a delightful impulse in the certainty that the poor woman 
 was no other than one of her school-girl acquaintances, 
 whom she had most dearly loved, but of whom she had 
 heard little since they had completed their studies. They 
 had married, and in their new relationships lost sight of 
 each other, until, by a mysterious Providence, they were 
 now united. It would have been but a mockery in Mrs. 
 Grig to appear at all reluctant to accept the support she so 
 much needed, since her own precarious health, and her 
 husband's approaching dissolution rendered it impossible for 
 her to obtain her own livelihood. Gladly, therefore, and 
 with alacrity, they left the scene of their past troubles 
 and necessities for the pretty cottage and the congenial 
 society of their disinterested friend, yet scarcely were they 
 established in their nejp abode when the messenger of 
 death came to claim his victim. The child was there, with 
 her young head nestling in her dying father's bosom ; the 
 wife stood by with a deep but subdued grief, and the faith-
 
 24 JENNIE OKI G. 
 
 fill friend was near with pious words of sympathy and 
 comfort. 
 
 The sick man had given his parting embrace to the be 
 loved objects of his affection, and had assured them of his 
 perfect confidence in a rest and peace beyond the grave, 
 but now his mind seemed wandering to other scenes. 
 
 " Down by the willows, dear Mary," said he, " I wish to 
 cross the river once more ; it is chilly here, but do you see 
 how warmly the sun is shining upon the green banks op 
 posite ! There are bright flowers there, too, sch as we 
 have often gathered, and the birds sing so sweetly ! Oh ! 
 let us cross the river, once more, dear Mary !" His words 
 grew fainter and fainter, and they heard them no more, 
 for he had crossed the river, and was wandering where 
 the sun shines more resplendently than earthly sun can 
 shine, and where brighter flowers, and sweeter birds than 
 mortal ever saw or heard, forever bloom and sing ; but his 
 Mary still lingered on the other shore, detained by an in 
 visible Power, who calleth home whom he will, and when 
 he will. But two short months she lingered, and then the 
 husband and wife were roaming together beside the pure 
 river of life, that floweth out from the Throne of God and 
 of the Lamb, and the child was left, but not alone.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE month of June saw Mrs. Dunmore settled i 
 country-house for the summer. It was a pretty, unobtru 
 sive cottage, standing upon a sloping lawn, and facing the 
 east. In the distance lay a sylvan lake, beyond which, 
 through the trees, gleamed the white spires of an adjoin 
 ing village. All around were lofty mountains covered with 
 verdure and glory. On the north of the house was a dense 
 grove of chestnut, and walnut, and maple, and pine, where 
 multitudes of squirrels had their hiding-places, and the 
 birds sang unmolested. 
 
 There little Bella used to love to play, while nurse Nan 
 nie gathered flowers to deck the neck of her pet lamb, or, 
 when the nuts began to fall, helped her to fill her tiny bas 
 ket ; and there her mother had her laid, when she could no 
 longer play, with her folded hands clasping some forest-buds, 
 and a wreath of wild-flowers around her brow. There was a 
 pure white monument at the head of her grave, in the sun 
 niest and happiest spot in the whole grove, with a rose carved 
 upon it, and a beauteous bud broken from the parent stem ; 
 and there Jennie stood with old Nannie, a few days after 
 their arrival, wondering that the bud on the tombstone
 
 26 JENNIE GKIG. 
 
 should be broken, and listening to Nannie as she talked 
 about the " angel child," as she called her departed darling. 
 
 " She was too good for this world, Miss Jennie," said 
 she ; and then the faithful old creature rocked to and fro 
 as she sat upon the trunk of a tree that had fallen down, 
 and wiped her eyes with her clean checked-apron, sobbing 
 as if her grief was even then but new. 
 
 " You are just like her in all your little ways," continued 
 she, as Jennie stole up to her and patted her black head 
 with her tiny hand, as if to soothe her sorrows ; " Missus 
 would have been clean gone and done with this life if she 
 had not lighted upon you to take the sadness out of her 
 heart for her Bella." 
 
 "But, Nannie, I am not Bella," said the child. "Do 
 you think I can ever be as dear as she was, so that her 
 mother may forget that she is dead ? I saw her weeping 
 the other day as she came from the grove, and I was afraid 
 she did not love me, and was sorry I was here to make hei 
 think of her loss." 
 
 " Not love you, Miss Jennie ! how can you say so, when 
 she took you, poor little beggar as you was, all from ttu 
 mire and dirt to be her own child." 
 
 " You must not tell me of that time, Nannie, it makes 
 me ache here ;" said she, putting her hand to her heart. 
 " Many a long day have I gone back and forth on that sad 
 walk, trembling for fear the lumbering omnibuses would 
 run over me, and not one penny did I ever ask, for I could 
 not beg, Nannie, and if some kind gentlemen and ladies
 
 JEN NIK Glilti. 27 
 
 had not noticed me, and sometimes given me a sixpence or 
 two, I should have gone home to my poor father and 
 mother with nothing for my hard day's work, and then we 
 must have starved, for dear mamma was not able to get 
 bread for us all, and nurse my sick father besides. You 
 must not speak of that time again, Nannie, for it takes me 
 away from this pleasant sunny spot, and puts me back in a 
 dismal room, with no light, nor warmth, nor greenness." 
 
 "What is the matter with my little girl ?" said Mrs. 
 Dunmore, who just then approached the child, and per 
 ceived the traces of recent tears on her sweet face. " Is 
 she not happy among the birds, and squirrels, and 
 flowers ?" 
 
 " Oh ! -yes, very happy indeed, dear mamma," and Jennie 
 took the hand that was extended to her, and kissed it with 
 all the ardor of -her impetuous nature ; " but I was think 
 ing of the dreary home that was mine before you found me 
 and cared for me." 
 
 " Sit down here, my darling, and talk to me a little. Is 
 the thought of the past very sad to my Jenny ; and can 
 she see no reason to be grateful, even for that time of 
 darkness and sorrow ? Do you remember how the black 
 clouds came yesterday, and quite hid the sun from our 
 sight, and the strong wind shook the house, so that we 
 were almost afraid of its fury, and the heavy rain fell and 
 bowed some of our beauteous shrubs nearly to the ground ; 
 then the clouds passed away and the sun shone more 
 brightly than ever, and the fierce winds were hushed, and
 
 28 JENNIEGKIG. 
 
 the shrubs lifted up their drooping heads all the more 
 graceful and lovely for the crushing storm. So it is when 
 God sends trials and sufferings upon us the world looks 
 black and dreary, and we are bowed very low in our 
 affliction, and His purpose in it all is to make our hearts 
 better and purer, and more beauteous in His sight when 
 the troubles shall have passed away." 
 
 " Did the world seem very dismal to you, dear mamma, 
 when Bella died ?" 
 
 "Very dismal, my child, until God sent me another 
 little daughter to lighten the grief that was pressing me 
 down ; now the clouds are parting, and the sunlight comes 
 beaming through, and I think we may be very happy, my 
 darling, if we will. But here comes Mr. Colbert. Let us 
 go to meet him, he used to love dear Bella, and will be 
 glad to see you, I know."
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 MR. COLBERT was the clergyman of the parish and lived 
 near Mrs. Dunmore with his widowed mother, and often, 
 as he took his daily walk, he bent his steps toward the cot 
 tage of his friend whom he had known in her joys and her 
 sorrows, and from whose subdued and Christian conversa 
 tion he derived both pleasure and profit. He had baptized 
 and buried her little Bella, and now as he gave Mrs. Dun- 
 more a kind and earnest greeting, he looked with painful 
 interest upon the child who stood modestly by her side, 
 and in whom he traced a striking resemblance to the de 
 parted. Mrs. Dunmore instantly perceiving the impression 
 made upon him, hastened to present her young protegee, 
 saying, " You have doubtless noticed how like my sweet 
 Bella, the child of my adoption is in feature and expres 
 sion I trust to you, my dear sir, to aid me in trying to 
 make her as truly like her in heart and life. It is a 
 weighty responsibility that I have assumed ; but He who 
 directed the impulse to make her my own, will impart the 
 strength and wisdom to guide her aright." 
 
 " You do me honor in admitting me to a participation in 
 your new and sacred duties, dear madam," replied the
 
 30 JENNIE GRIG. 
 
 clergyman, " be assured, I shall most gladly improve every 
 opportunity offered me for the welfare of your little Jennie. 
 Bella used often to walk with me," continued he, taking 
 the hand of the little girl, " will you sometimes join me as 
 I ramble about these woods and hills ? Perhaps we can 
 find some pleasant things to tell each other when we are 
 better acquainted." 
 
 Jennie's dark eyes sparkled, as she looked to her mother 
 for her assent to the kind minister's proposition, and as 
 Mrs. Dunmore willingly agreed to it, she sprang with a 
 glad step to meet old Nannie, who Ijad come to call them 
 to lunch. Mr. Colbert declined joining them on the plea 
 of extending his walk, and bidding them good morning, 
 soon disappeared amid the trees. 
 
 One moment he lingered by the little grave, and gather 
 ing from it a bunch of violets, he followed the path 
 through the woods to the road, and then turned toward his 
 home. His way led through an avenue of maples, whose 
 dense foliage quite obscured the sky above his head. On 
 either side, stretched green meadows, enameled with the 
 fresh spring flowers ; and beyond him, in the distance, the 
 avenue seemed to open into the pure blue heavens, athwart 
 which the fleecy clouds were ever and anon flitting like 
 angels busied in doing their Master's will. The scene was 
 rich and hallowed, and called forth the sweetest and purest 
 emotions. "If the pathway through life was ever thus 
 tranquil and serene," thought he, " and if the eye caught 
 only such visions of beauty and grace as are now before
 
 JENNIK GKIG. 31 
 
 me, how like Paradise would this earth seem ! But it can 
 not be ; I must tread a rough and sometimes disagreeable 
 road, and engage in fierce and bitter conflicts, ere I can 
 emerge into the glories of that better land of which the 
 beauteous scene I now survey always reminds me !" and, 
 as he mused, he reached the top of the hill, and leaving 
 the silent avenue, seated himself upon a rustic bench that 
 was placed beneath an old maple near his home. The 
 quaint old mansion stood alone upon a slight eminence, 
 and on every side luxurious meadows, and orchards spread 
 themselves out, until they reached the mountains. _ From 
 various points three lovely lakes were visible one, half 
 hidden by its green belt of forest trees, another glistening 
 in the broad sunlight, and a third lying in calm and placid 
 beauty. 
 
 All about, in the rich pastures, cattle were quietly 
 grazing, or resting beneath the shadows of the old trees, or 
 frisking in the glad spring-time. The light and shade 
 played upon the fresh landscape, as bright and somber 
 imaginings sweep over a youthful heart ; and as the young 
 clergyman drank in all the glory and loveliness of the 
 scene, his soul was filled with a rapture, which none can 
 ever know but the earnest Christian, who sees in every bud 
 and leaf the evidences of a beneficent Father's love. 
 
 Long he sat reveling in that unbroken quietness and 
 beauty, nor did he perceive the soft footsteps of his mother, 
 until a gentle hand was laid upon his brow, and she said, 
 " My son, I am glad you have returned ; poor Sam Lisle
 
 32 .JENNIE OKI G. 
 
 has been twice for you to visit his daughter, who can not 
 survive through the day. He seemed greatly distressed on 
 not finding you, and begged me to send you immediately 
 to them when I should see you." 
 
 " I can not stop, now, dear mother," said he, as she 
 pressed him to remain but one moment for refreshments. 
 " I fear I am already too late," and he turned quickly 
 away from the contemplation of the glories of nature, and 
 passed again through the silent avenue, and on to the vil 
 lage, to wrestle with the sorrows of this weary life, where 
 there was poverty, and suffering, and death.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 WHO that saw the little Jennie on the first Sunday 
 morning, in her summer home, would have imagined that 
 But a few months before she was sweeping the dirty cross 
 ings of Broadway, a thin, meager, half-clad child, scorned 
 by the passers-by, and loved only by two wretched ones, as 
 pitiable and unsought as herself! 
 
 As Mrs. Dunmore, at early dawn, entered the pleasant 
 room, once Bella's, but now appropriated to the newly- 
 found, the child lay with her dimpled arms thrown over 
 her head, upon the soft pillows, and her sweet mouth 
 half parted with a smile at some innocent but illusive 
 fancy that filled her happy dreams. 
 
 Old Nannie had stolen into the chamber, and stood 
 peeping over the shotilder of her mistress at her young 
 charge. She had put her finger upon her lip, as if to 
 hush her to deeper slumbers, when, suddenly, a glad sun 
 beam shot from the east, and fell upon the sleeper's face. 
 With one bound she freed herself from the bedclothes, 
 and stood by the window, pointing toward the glorious vis 
 ion that had so long been hidden from her sight. Never 
 had she seen the blessed sun rise since a wee child of four 
 2*
 
 34 JENNIE GEIG. 
 
 years, in the home of her birth, which had almost from 
 that early age been the possession of strangers, and now, 
 as she stood in her simple night-dress, with her long curls 
 loosened and floating in the pure breeze, she seemed 
 some new-born spirit wondering at the display of the 
 Creator's mighty power. Her face was flushed with a hal 
 lowed emotion, and as the sun stood forth above the 
 horizon in its full splendor, she sank upon her knees, and 
 expressed her gushing feelings in the simple yet sublime 
 words first uttered by Divine lips, amid the consecrated 
 scenes of the Holy Land. 
 
 Mrs. Dunmore instinctively knelt while the child poured 
 forth her humble adoration, and she prayed most earnestly, 
 that the deep feeling of reverence she had just witnessed in 
 her adopted one, might never be displaced or blunted by 
 contact with an impious and careless world. 
 
 Jennie had been so wholly absorbed in her joy at the 
 beauteous vision before her, that she had scarcely noticed 
 the presence of her mother, until Mrs. Dunmore approached 
 her and said, " My darling is up betimes on this hallowed 
 morning, and I am glad to see that she is not unmindful 
 of Him who giveth us all our blessings." Then the little 
 girl looked up with a happy smile, and giving her accus 
 tomed kiss, hastened to prepare for family devotions, and for 
 the services of the village church. It was a pleasant h'ttle 
 church, and in former years, many a good old saint had 
 gone from its portals to the Church triumphant in Heaven ; 
 but now few came to her solemn feasts, and there was a
 
 J E N N I E (i It I G . 35 
 
 languishing, sleepy aspect about it that often sickened the 
 hearts of the little band of zealous ones who were striving 
 to keep it alive. Many a time was its faithful minister 
 almost ready to faint in his apparently useless labors ; but 
 on this day one little soul gazed earnestly on him, as if 
 thirsting for the spiritual nourishment he was imparting, 
 aud his heart was revived and strengthened. In the after 
 noon was the funeral of poor Bessie Lisle, and as the small 
 group of mourners moved away from the place of burial, 
 Mr. Colbert, Mrs. Dunmore, and Jennie, lingered in the 
 peaceful cemetery to gather lessons of wisdom for their 
 own summons to another world. This cemetery was on a 
 high hill overlooking the village. Here and there drooped 
 a willow over some loved tomb, or a rose-bush bent to 
 scatter its burden of perfume and petals. On one new- 
 made grave the quiet resting-place of a mother and her 
 daughter, snatched from their friends by some sudden and 
 terrible casuality were strewn fresh and beauteous flowers, 
 the fragrant offering of a gentle girl, who daily sought that 
 sacred spot to weep over the loved and lost. Near this, 
 beneath a shady yew, was the lowly bed of the poor man's 
 daughter, whose remains had just been placed therein. 
 
 Mrs. Dunmore leaned thoughtfully against the tree, and 
 sighed as she recalled her own bereavements, and her 
 Christian heart was busy in suggesting some means of con 
 solation for the stricken parents. Mr. Colbert was stooping 
 by a distant tomb reading its epitaph to little Jennie, who 
 listened with the deepest interest. There was no sound to
 
 36 .1KNNIE GRIG. 
 
 mar the stillness of that peaceful retreat, the whispering 
 winds went, dirge-like, through the waving grass, and the 
 leaves rustled softly above the quiet sleepers. 
 
 Even the child felt the awful solemnity of the place, an^ 
 crept nearer to the kind minister, as he told her of the deal 
 lamb that was so early called away to the green pastures. 
 The stone at her head was somewhat like that at Bella's 
 grave, and violets grew all over the turf, too, and Jennie 
 gathered a bunch of the sweetest and took them to her 
 mother, who crushed them in her bosom and. moistened 
 them with her tears. Slowly and regretfully they left the 
 spot so fraught with sad yet chastening influences, and 
 sought their happy homes, yet not without leaving their 
 prayers and their sympathies at the mourner's humble 
 cottage.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE summer went joyously on, and the minister and 
 child roamed about amid the green things of the earth., 
 All the loveliest haunts of that pleasant spot had echoed 
 the grave, but gentle tones of the man of God, and the 
 answering prattle of the little one who went tripping on by 
 his side, sometimes thoughtful and earnest, sometimes 
 merry and glad ; and now the time had come for Mrs. 
 Dunmore to return to her city residence, and they must 
 bid their kind friends at the Rectory good-by. Mrs. Col 
 bert sat with her son upon the rustic bench, and the child 
 was between them holding a hand of each. Mr. Colbert 
 pushed her dark hair from her forehead, and said, as he 
 looked in her tearful eyes'; "Jennie is sorry to part with 
 her old friends, but perhaps she will forget them before 
 another summer ?" 
 
 " I fear we shall not be able to return to for several 
 
 years to come ;" said Mrs. Dunmore. " I have just received 
 a summons from my husband's mother, who is in very 
 feeble health, and as I shall devote myself to her during 
 her life, I must forego the pleasure of my summer home 
 for awhile. Jennie will be placed at Madame La Blanche's
 
 38 JENNIE GEIG. 
 
 school during my absence, and my separation from her will 
 be another pang added to that which I feel on leaving you 
 all for an indefinite period." A shade passed over the face 
 of the young minister ; but it gave place to a smile as the 
 child said, " But you promised that I should come back 
 some day, and keep house for you in this good old place, 
 and then you know" she added, smiling through the 
 tears that had bedimmed her eyes, " I should go away no 
 more, but we could be always happy here together." 
 
 Jennie could not understand Mrs. Colbert's earnest man 
 ner as she pressed her fondly to her bosom, and said " God 
 grant it, my sweet child !" but she returned the caresses so 
 lavishly heaped upon her, and then jumped down to play 
 with old Skip, the house-dog, who was leaping about her 
 as if to share in the adieus. Mrs. Dunmore took the 
 vacant seat, and the three friends conversed long and 
 seriously upon the former years of happiness spent in each 
 other's society, and the interval that might ensue ere they 
 should be gathered again beneath the spreading maples ; 
 and as they conversed, one heart dwelt with greater than 
 usual tenderness upon the little figure that was flitting 
 about in the soft twilight. 
 
 The night came, the twilight had faded out, and the 
 little figure, too, had vanished, leaving that one breast 
 desolate, save when a lightsome shadow flitted across its 
 ever-verdant memory. The summer cottage looked dreary, 
 with its closed blinds, and the autumn leaves rustling about 
 it in the bleak winds; but the little tombstone still gleamed
 
 JENNIE GEIG. 39 
 
 in the sunlight, that cast a pleasant and warm halo upon 
 it, and the birds and squirrels sung and leaped about in the 
 beauteous grove as blithesome and glad as if life's rolling 
 seasons brought no sad changes. The man of God walked 
 quietly up and down the silent avenue, striving to think 
 only of the blue sky into which it seemed to open. The 
 gentle widow went out on her mission of love and mercy, 
 to smooth the dying pillow of the sick and aged, and the 
 child was again in the heart of the mighty city, not a pen 
 niless, uncared-for thing, but surrounded by a joyous group 
 of happy children, and watched over by a kind and faithful 
 teacher.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 " WHO will share a room with little Jennie Dunmore ?" 
 said Madame La Blanche, on the day of the child's arrival 
 at school. " Who will set her an example of patience and 
 perseverance in her studies, and aid her in her difficulties 
 and trials ? Who will help her to be obedient, and indus 
 trious, and good ?" Many an eager hand was raised as the 
 school girls looked upon the sweet face of the new-comer, 
 who stood near her teacher, timidly glancing at the strange 
 band before her ; but Rosalie Moore sprung from her seat, 
 and, throwing her arm around Jennie's waist, looked up so 
 pleadingly at Madame La Blanche, that she said, " Remem 
 ber, dear children, I give you to each other as kind and 
 loving sisters, not to foster in each other the love of dress 
 and show, not to uphold each other in acts of rebellion 
 and sin, but to strive together for that inward adorning 
 both of heart and mind, which is far better than any out 
 ward ornament, and to walk hand in hand, so long as your 
 pathway shall be the same, toward that better land, where 
 I trust we may all one day again mingle. To-day shall be 
 a holiday among you, and to-morrow Jennie will enter 
 upon her new duties, which I hope will be pleasant to her.
 
 JENNIE tiKlG. 41 
 
 I need not ask you to remember the basket of charity- 
 work, which each will find in her room, since you all know 
 how much happier you are in your recreations after some 
 act of benevolence and kindness. Jennie will go with 
 me on my round of visiting on Saturday," continued she, 
 as the girls, with a hop, skip, and jump, left the school 
 room. 
 
 Rosalie was very proud to show Jennie their neat little 
 bedroom, with its snowy curtains and white counterpane, 
 and its pleasant view from the windows. There were two 
 windows with wide seats, where they could sit and work, or 
 study, and these looked out upon a beautiful garden, and 
 the sweet odor of the flowers came up and refreshed them. 
 It was so rare and delightful, in the midst of the city, to 
 find such freshness and beauty that it was all the more 
 appreciated, and Jennie felt that she could be very happy 
 there. She and Rosalie got the stand with the basket of 
 work upon it, and placed it near one of the windows, and 
 both sat together there and worked on the coarse garments. 
 
 " Who are these for ?" asked Jennie, " and what does 
 Madame La Blanche mean by my going ' the rounds' with 
 her on Saturday ?" 
 
 " These are for very poor people," said Rosalie, " and 
 every week our teacher takes as many as we can finish, 
 and goes with one of us to cany them. Have you ever 
 seen any poor people, Jennie ? and do you know how 
 dreadfully they suffer in the cold winters for want of 
 clothes and food?"
 
 42 JKNNIK URIG. 
 
 Jennie did not answer, but she covered her face with 
 both hands, and Rosalie could see the tears as they trickled 
 through her fingers and fell upon her work. She thought 
 it very strange ; but she said as she drew her closely to 
 her and kissed her tenderly, " Never mind, we will talk 
 about something else. I've been so much among them 
 that I am used to their poverty now. What do you mean 
 to study Jennie ? I hope you will be in all my classes, 
 although you are a great deal younger than I, I know, for 
 I was eleven the day before yesterday," and Rosalie tossed 
 her old head and looked at her companion in a very 
 patronizing way. 
 
 " I was ten in April," said Jennie, and this is October, 
 so you see we are not very wide apart ; but I do not know 
 about my studies mamma said that Madame La Blanche 
 would direct them." 
 
 " Have you ever studied French?" asked Rosalie. "I am 
 reading ' Corinne' already, and Hattie Mann, who is two 
 years older than I, has but just commenced the language." 
 
 " I read ' Corinne' with dear mamma just before she 
 died," said Jennie, " but I should like very much to read it 
 with you again if Madame La Blanche pleases." 
 
 " Is your mother dead, Jennie ? and is not that lady she 
 whom you call mamma ?" 
 
 " God took my own dear mother and father from me, 
 Rosalie ; but before they left, He sent the kind lady to 
 them who made me her child, and they were quite willing 
 to go, when they knew I should not be aloue in the world."
 
 J E N N I E (i K I G . 43 
 
 " Did you live in a beautiful house when your father and 
 mother were alive, Jennie, and were there birds and flowers 
 all around it, and had you a nice little pony that you could 
 call your own, and a dear little sister with golden curls ? 
 That is the way my home is," continued she without wait 
 ing for an answer, " and some vacation I am to invite any 
 one of the girls that I please to go with me to my 
 mother's, and I know who it will be, too, don't you, darling 
 Jennie ?" and she jumped up, and putting her needle in 
 her work, she kissed the astonished child again, and went 
 singing down the stairs as merry as a lark. Jennie sat 
 quietly in the window, thinking of the contrast between 
 her sometime home in the city and the one described by 
 her happy school-mate, and she would have grown very 
 sad over her solitary musings; but a gay laugh in the 
 garden below diverted her from them, and looking out, she 
 saw Rosalie, with a garland of leaves around her head, 
 and in her hand a bouquet of fall flowers, which she was 
 vainly endeavoring to throw up to her new sister. Her 
 merriment attracted the other girls, and soon Jennie stood 
 among them, with no trace of sorrow upon her bro<v, and 
 the memory of the bitter past wholly swallowed up in the 
 enjoyment of the bright and blessed present.
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 SATURDAY morning was a busy time at Madame La 
 Blanche's school. Little fingers stitched -with untiring in 
 dustry upon the coarse raiment that was to give warmth 
 to many an otherwise shivering body, and by the hour ap 
 pointed for the visits, the teacher was surprised at the 
 great results of such tiny efforts. She smiled approvingly 
 on her pupils, and summoning a servant to take charge of 
 the weighty bundle, she took Jennie by the hand and left 
 the house. 
 
 Out through the pleasant garden, past the magnificent 
 mansions of the rich they went on, and on, amid throngs 
 of the gay and fashionable, till the streets grew dingy with 
 a motly crowd of the miserable and ragged, who seemed to 
 herd together, as if thus to hide their degradation and 
 shame. Some looked upon them, as they walked along, 
 with a bold and impudent stare ; but others shrunk from 
 their observation, and drew their tattered shawls more 
 closely around them as they moved hastily away. There 
 were some bargaining at the markets for withered or 
 decaying vegetables, and others purchasing, at a diminished 
 price, stale bread from dirty bakeries, and many a one
 
 J E N N I E G K I G . 45 
 
 loitering along in his filth and squalor, with no object nor 
 aim save to dawdle away the time that hung too wearily 
 upon him. It was a sad and loathsome sight, so near the 
 gorgeous thoroughfare of this mighty city, to see the piti 
 able objects of unmitigated want ; but there they were, 
 and in all that teeming mass but two ministering spirits 
 were visible, gliding on with their offerings of kindness and 
 mercy. 
 
 Down through a dark alley, whose fetid odors were quite 
 sufficient to deter the dainty from penetrating beyond 
 they went, and into a miserable room where was scarcely 
 space for them to stand, so huddled was it with broken 
 furniture and ragged children. A fire was burning in a 
 shattered grate, and an untidy woman stood ironing by a 
 table whereon was the remnant of their meager dinner. 
 Her husband crouched over the coals as if the day was 
 not warm and sunny. His clothes hung about his limbs in 
 large folds, and his sunken eyes told that disease was mak 
 ing fearful ravages upon him. Madame La Blanche opened 
 her bundle, and, handing him a comfortable dressing-gown 
 nicely quilted, said, "I am sorry to find you so low, 
 Michael, but God's will be done, perchance He means to 
 deliver you from the pinchings of a bitter season. It is but 
 little I can do for you," she continued, as the grateful man 
 smoothed down the warm garment, and thanked her with 
 tremulous lips ; " my children made it for you, and this 
 little one I have taken with me that she may learn to be 
 the more thoughtful of those who have a scanty supply of
 
 46 JENNIE GRIG. 
 
 the good things of this life, and the more thankful for the 
 blessings of abundance and health bestowed upon her." 
 
 " Ah ! yes, miss," said the old man, running his lank arms 
 into the nice garment, and wrapping it closely about him ; 
 " ' Blessed is he that considereth the poor, the Lord will 
 remember him in the time of trouble.' Many 's the time I 
 shall think of the little hands that sewed on this for the 
 sick old man, and I '11 pray, miss, that you may never 
 know what it is to suffer want nor sorrow in this weary 
 world, and that you may all be sure to go to a better when 
 you die." 
 
 Madame La Blanche read a chapter to him from her 
 pocket-Bible, and with a few words of advice and comfort to 
 the woman, and a picture-book for the children, she went 
 from the unwholesome room up a crazy staircase to one a 
 shade better, because kept with some degree of cleanliness. 
 A young man arose and gave chairs to the lady and the 
 child, and his mother welcomed them with a joy which the 
 poor never feign toward a true friend. "How is John's 
 cough ?" said Madame La Blanche. " It seems to me he 
 has failed since I saw him last ; but perhaps it is because I 
 have not been here for some time that he looks thinner 
 than usual to me." 
 
 " Oh ! no, ma'am, 'tis n't that," said the mother ; " poor 
 Johnny 's going fast. He coughs so o' nights, it fairly 
 makes me ache for him. It puts me so in mind of Aby, 
 I can't hardly bear it." 
 
 " I wish he was like Aby," said the lady ; " Aby was a
 
 JENNIKGKIU. 47 
 
 perfect example of faith and patience, and he died as a 
 Christian should die, with a firm confidence in Him whom 
 he Lad trusted. John knows that he can not live long," 
 continued she, "and I hope he is not afraid to die. He 
 has the same heavenly Father to go to for support in these 
 last hours that Aby had." 
 
 " Aby, was a good boy," said the mother ; whose heart 
 seemed constantly to revert to her dead son. " He 'd a 
 been twenty years old next month if he'd a lived, and 
 John won't be till March ; but I don't expect he '11 live to 
 see that time, John won't live to be twenty year old, John 
 won't," and the afflicted woman turned away her head and 
 looked from the window to hide her grief. Jennie stood 
 all this time looking around upon the meanly-furnished 
 apartment, and upon its thinly clad inmates, and as she 
 saw a young girl looking wistfully at a pretty scarf which 
 she wore, she whispered earnestly to her teacher, and then 
 untying it, she put it around the neck of the poor girl, who 
 seemed almost beside herself for joy. The kind lady then 
 left some money to procure something for John's cough, 
 and some woolen waistcoats from her pack, and, promis 
 ing to go often to read to the sick boy, they departed ; but 
 the breath of their kindness lingered upon the hearts of 
 those forlorn ones, and cheered them in their struggles 
 for life.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE air in those loathsome streets was scarcely less 
 unwholesome and impure than in the close and crowded 
 rooms, yet the lady and the child kept on still further 
 from the cleanly portions of the city, to seek out other 
 objects of pity and benevolence ; and as they walked, they 
 saw a woman running up the street, and heard her say to 
 a respectable-looking gentleman : " Doctor, if you have 
 time, won't you please to stop at our house ?" 
 
 Madame La Blanche observed the physician more at 
 tentively, and found that it was one of her old friends. 
 He, at the same time, turning from a poor man to whom 
 he had been talking, recognized her, and on learning her 
 errand, he asked her to accompany him to see one of his 
 patients. "It is a melancholy case, madam," said he, 
 " the girl is afflicted with a species of hysteria, induced by 
 constant pining for a worthless lover, who ran away, not 
 long since, with another woman. She is in a terrible 
 state, weeping incessantly. I think, perhaps, you may 
 be able to comfort her a little ; you know we of the 
 sterner mold have not much power in such emergencies 
 There it is," said he, as they reached a dusky building.
 
 J E N N I K G K I G . 49 
 
 at the entrance ot which stood a strange group of idlers, 
 torn and dirty. The sick girl lived on the second floor, 
 with her grandmother and one sister, and as the strangers 
 entered, she shrunk still further back into the corner 
 where she was sitting. A strip of faded calico lay upon 
 her lap, and now and then she would put a stitch in it, 
 but oftener she raised it to her face and wiped away the 
 tears that were constantly falling. Her grandmother 
 seemed troubled and sad as the doctor looked thought 
 fully upon her, and when he asked " If she had been any 
 worse, and why they did not send for him before ?" she re 
 plied, " Why she seems about the same, doctor ; we sent 
 her into the country to see what change of air and scene 
 would do for her, but she is n't much better for it. She 
 seems to be in a study all the time, and sits still and cries 
 a great deal. We try to rouse her, and to make her take 
 notice of things, but she falls back into one of her studies 
 again." 
 
 " Come here, Jessie," said the doctor, " and sit in the 
 light where I can see you. Does your side pain you any 
 now?" The girl moved languidly from her dark corner 
 and stood quietly by the window, but she answered the 
 doctor only in monosyllables, and appeared uneasy while 
 out of her accustomed retreat ; and so soon as he turned to 
 ask her sister some questions about her she glided noise 
 lessly back, and sunk into the old seat, wiping her eyes 
 again with the faded cloth. Madame La Blanche drew 
 near to her, and talked to her in a calm and soothing man- 
 3
 
 50 JENNIE GKIG. 
 
 ner, and Jennie seemed really distressed, as she vainly 
 tried to divert her from her grief by emptying the treasures 
 of her pocket before her. The room was as clean as it 
 could possibly be, and the persons of its occupants neat 
 and tidy, but every thing betokened severe and pinching 
 poverty. The bed for the three was in one corner, and 
 this, with one table and a few chairs, comprised all their 
 worldly goods. The healthy girl was washing for those 
 who never knew how many a tale of want and woe their 
 finely-embroidered clothes could tell. A line was stretched 
 across the narrow space, and there hung the fine linen 
 and muslin, streaming out the death-mist upon the weak 
 ened lungs of that wretched girl in the corner ; and the 
 old woman, with her tremulous hands, was smoothing out 
 the robes that were to rustle amid scenes of pleasure and 
 folly, while the wearers never bestowed a thought upon the 
 lowly ones who helped to adorn them. 
 
 " There is a prescription for Jessie," said the doctor, as 
 they rose to go ; " it will cost you a dollar, for the medi 
 cine is a valuable one." 
 
 The old woman took the paper and looked vacantly 
 upon it, while her thoughts dwelt upon the many comfort 
 able things that one dollar would buy for the approaching 
 winter. Jessie's life, to be sure, was most precious to her, 
 but to what purpose would it be saved, if, after all, the 
 poor child should suffer for the necessaries of life. The 
 medicine must be got, but oh ! there were so many other 
 things indispensable !
 
 JENNIE GEIG. 51 
 
 How her heart was lifted up, as the kind physician said, 
 " You may send to the dispensary for it, however, and it 
 will cost you nothing !" 
 
 " Oh ! thank you, doctor," said she with a beaming face, 
 "times is so hard; we don't mean to complain, but a 
 dollar goes a great ways with poor people ;" and then 
 with a cheerful step she followed her visitors to the door, 
 internally blessing the benevolent physician, and the glori 
 ous dispensary ; but her cup of joy was full to overflowing 
 when she turned back again into the room, and found the 
 nice suit for the sick girl, and a new cap and warm sack 
 for herself. " This will be so grand to go to the pump 
 with," said she, as she laid it carefully away in a box 
 which she drew from under the bed. " Come cheer up, 
 Jessie, better times is coming, and it seems ongrateful-like 
 to sit there moping when there is so much good fortune in 
 the house."
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 As the little party reached Broadway again, they met 
 some officers leading a man who had been detected in 
 some dreadful crime, and the doctor offered to go to the 
 city prison with Madame La Blanche, that they might 
 show Jennie where wicked people were confined. The 
 stout high walls looked very cheerless and gloomy, 
 after the splendor and brightness of Broadway, and the 
 child dreaded to enter them; but she kept close to her 
 guides, and as they stood within the yard where was a 
 green park, and a pretty fountain playing, she thought it 
 much pleasanter than the brown and loathsome places she 
 had just left. Madame La Blanche seemed to read her 
 thoughts, and said, " This is very pretty and nice, my dear ; 
 but you shall tell me what you think about prison life 
 when we reach home again. We have yet much to .see 
 within these high walls ; very few are allowed to walk in 
 this pleasant yard." Then the prison physician went with 
 them inside and they wandered up and down the long 
 corridors, and looked through the iron doors at the crim 
 inals, and Jennie shuddered as their guilty eyes looked 
 out upon her through the gratings.
 
 JENNIE GRIG. 53 
 
 Here and there, at the different cells, were wives, or 
 sisters, or mothers, talking through the massive bars. The 
 cells were capacious, and neat, and the prisoners looked 
 careless, and indifferent to their punishment ; but Madame 
 La Blanche and Jennie both felt that however light- 
 hearted and cheerful they might appear in the broad day, 
 with their friends all about them, in the darkness and 
 silence of the night, terrors must take hold upon them, and 
 almost drive them mad. 
 
 In the female department, they saw only those who were 
 committed for vagrancy and drunkenness ; but as they ob 
 served a woman stretched out upon a bed in one of the 
 cells, lost in the deep sleep of the inebriate, they thought 
 that no measures for the abolishment of so beastly a vice 
 could be too strenuous. Sitting in the door of a cell was 
 one with coarse features, bloated, and ugly, hugging to 
 her depraved bosom a delicate and lovely child. Madame 
 La Blanche stopped to give the weak mother a few words 
 of wholesome advice, and she spoke to her of the little 
 creature in her arms, and plead with her, for her sake, if 
 from no higher motive, to put away her sin. The woman 
 seemed touched, and hiding her face in the child's neck, 
 she wept. The little blue-eyed thing looked sadly weary 
 of the dull walls, and Jennie longed to lead her away from 
 the lonesome place to a home as bright as she had found. 
 She stroked her silken hair, and caressed her as if she had 
 been a sister, and giving her a few toys from her rich 
 pocket, she hurried on to overtake her teacher who was
 
 54 JENNIE GRIG. 
 
 descending the stairs that led to the lowest corridor, and 
 thence to the yard. 
 
 The night was coming on, and husbands and wives, 
 mothers and sisters, were leaving the prison walls with a 
 burden of grief and shame for the loved yet lost ones 
 within ; and as Jennie and her kind teacher, one hour later, 
 entered the peaceful abode of innocence and joy, the light 
 had wholly departed from the long corridors of that 
 gloomy building, and the doors were closely secured upon 
 the shuddering inmates of those dismal cells, who crept 
 into their beds, and covered their heads with the thick 
 clothes to shut out the demons that were hovering about 
 them in the polluted air.
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 " ROSALIE," said Jennie, as she tossed to and fro upon 
 their soft bed that night ; " I can not sleep for the thought 
 of those poor creatures we saw to-day. Come closer to me 
 and put your arm around me, every time I close my eyes 
 some of those miserable objects are before me with their 
 pinched and haggard looks. I can not go with Madame 
 La Blanche again, for it takes away all the pleasure and 
 beauty of uy life, and it can do them no good since I have 
 so little pov")r to relieve them." 
 
 " But," said Rosalie, " Madame La Blanche says ' it is 
 our duty to visit them, even though we have nothing to 
 offer them but our sympathy, and kind words are often 
 better to the poor then costly gifts.' I felt as you do 
 when I first went among them, but I don't believe our 
 teacher would ever excuse us from going since she thinks 
 it right. I should think," continued Rosalie, twining her 
 arms lovingly about her companion, and drawing as near 
 to her as possible, " that what you have seen to-day 
 would make you enjoy this pleasant room, and these 
 nice comforts all the more."
 
 56 JENNIE GRIG. 
 
 "But, Rosalie," said Jennie, "how can I sleep when 
 there are so many sick and weary ones down in those dirty 
 streets who have no resting-place for their tired bodies, 
 although they need it so much more than I do ? It makes 
 me uneasy and troubled. Don't you think we should be a 
 great deal happier if all the people in the world had an 
 equal share of the comforts of life ?" 
 
 " Sometimes I think so, Jennie, but Madame La Blanche 
 says ' it is God that makes us to differ ; that He gives to 
 some poverty, and to others riches, and that if we only 
 have contented minds we shall be happy, whether we are 
 rich or poor.' " 
 
 " That is not exactly what I mean, Rosalie ; you know I 
 am rich now, but I am sad about others, and don't you 
 suppose that people who suffer for things that they need 
 feel badly when they see others with more than enough for 
 their wants, so that they even waste it or throw it away." 
 
 " I don't know, Jennie, I suppose they must. It does 
 seem strange to me, sometimes, that some have so much 
 more than is necessary to their comfort, while others lack 
 even their daily bread ; but Madame La Blanche, says ' we 
 must never allow ourselves to raise such questions, even in 
 our own minds ; but that we must feel that whatever God 
 does for His children is right, even as we feel that our 
 earthly parents will do every thing for our best good, 
 though they may do many things that we can not under 
 stand, and withhold from us much that we earnestly 
 desire.' "
 
 JENNIE GEIG. 5*5 
 
 " Well, Rosalie, it is a comfort to have a higher wisdom 
 than our own to depend upon ! that 's what my own dear 
 mother used often to say to me, and the very day she 
 died I never can forget that ! she put her hand upon my 
 head, and said 'Remember, my Jennie, God is to be all 
 your wisdom and strength, all your wisdom and strength.' " 
 
 Poor child ! in her own. strength what perfect weakness ; 
 even while repeating the word she sunk into a calm and 
 peaceful slumber, and this weary world, with its burden of 
 sorrows and woes, faded away from her mental vision also, 
 giving place to hopeful and cheering dreams. Madame La 
 Blanche entered the room, as was her custom before re 
 tiring to her own couch, and as she looked upon the gentle 
 sleepers before her, and contrasted them with the pitiable 
 ones who, perchance were even then wakeful and sinning, 
 her heart went up toward the Dispenser of all blessings, in 
 earnest supplication that the objects of her love might be 
 ever preserved unblemished in purity, and those of her com 
 passion be brought from their blackness and stain unto the 
 fountain of all goodness and cleansing.
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THREE winters passed rapidly and profitably in the busy 
 school-room, and Jennie's thirteenth spring-time found her, 
 with her friend Rosalie, riding about the lawn upon the 
 pretty pony, or playing with her golden-haired sister. 
 
 "Jennie," said Rosalie, one lovely morning as they were 
 amusing themselves upon the lawn ; " would you not like 
 to go to the old Buttonwood and swing ? All the girls 
 meet there, and we have such nice times !" To the old 
 Buttonwood was quite a pleasant walk from Rosalie's 
 mother's, and they went merrily on, leading the little 
 girl, and chatting busily, when a silvery-headed old man 
 on a seat within a garden near, attracted Jennie's attention, 
 and she asked her companion who he was. 
 
 " Oh ! that 's my ' grandpa,' as I call him," said Rosalie 
 " he is n't my grandpa, you know, but he likes to have 
 me call him so, and since it makes him happier, why 
 should n't I ? mamma says she has known him for several 
 years, and that he had once a darling daughter who mar 
 ried against his will, so that he would never receive her to 
 his house again, and one day, when he heard that she was 
 dead, he lost his reason ; but he will not harm any one.
 
 JENNIE GRIG. 59 
 
 He loves children dearly, and we often go in to sit with 
 him and talk. Poor old man ! let 's go in now, Jennie, 
 perhaps he will be glad to change the scene a little" and 
 the three girls went and stood before the old gentleman, 
 who at first looked vacantly at them. 
 
 " It 's me, grandpa. Don't you remember your own 
 dear little Rosalie ? Jennie," continued she in an under 
 tone, " you stand a little behind me, and then he will see 
 me alone ;" but the old man caught the words, and a flash 
 of intelligence for one moment illumined his eyes as he 
 said, 
 
 " Yes, that 's it Jennie, dear little Jennie ! come back 
 to your old father, my darling. All day long has he sat 
 by the gate watching for you. Did you think he was 
 angry with his own precious child ?" and as he spoke he 
 drew Jennie to his bosom and held her there while he 
 murmured constantly in tones of endearment, " Call me 
 father, my pet child ; nobody shall take her away again ; 
 little Jennie, dear little Jennie!" and he looked around 
 with a sort of menacing air, as if some one was near who 
 would seek to rob him of his treasure, and then smiled 
 fondly on the young girl, caressing her with the deepest 
 tenderness. 
 
 " I have n't seen him smile so for many a long year, 
 miss," said the old butler who was near them. " Will you 
 come often to speak to him ? It does ray heart good to 
 see him so like old times. It 's tk^ name miss, it 's all the 
 name."
 
 CO JENNIE GRIG. 
 
 Jennie was somewhat frightened by the old man's eager 
 manner, but when she said softly, " Let me go and swing 
 awhile, dear father, and then I '11 come to you again," he 
 gently relaxed his embrace and kissing her, again let her 
 go. 
 
 His Jennie used to go so often to the " old Buttonwood" 
 it was all natural to hear her speak of that ; and then 
 it was so pleasant to have her come again with elastic step, 
 and rosy cheek, to spring in/o his arms for her welcome 
 kiss ! Oh, yes ! he was willing she should go to the " old 
 Buttonwood ;" but as her slight figure vanished in the 
 distance, he seemed sad and uneasy, and the old expres 
 sion came again, and it staid through the long day. That 
 night as the old butler stood in his master's room, and 
 looked upon a lovely portrait that hung at the foot of the 
 old gentleman's bed, he kept repeating to himself, "It 
 can't be all in the name ; the likeness is amazin' ! amazin' !" 
 
 " Rosalie," said Jennie the next day, " Let 's go and see 
 the old gentleman again. Wh^t 's his name ? you know 
 1 promised to return to Lim." 
 
 " His name is Halberg. 1 ' 
 
 " Does he live alone in that pleasant place with only the 
 servants to care for him ?" 
 
 " Oh, no," said Rosalie, " he has a married son who lives 
 there with him, but he has gone to Europe with his wife 
 and three daughters, and grandpa stays alone until their 
 return. Mamma says they are expected next month, and 
 Carrie Halberg is to go to Madame La Blanche's school
 
 JENNIE GEIG. 61 
 
 that 's my friend, Carrie ; she 's such a dear good girl ! 
 You '11 love her, Jennie, I know ! But there 's grandpa 
 watching for us." 
 
 The old man stood at the gate, leaning upon his cane 
 and looking intently down the street toward the " old But- 
 tonwood." He had taken his hat from his head and was 
 shading his eyes with it, and his thin locks were scattered 
 carelessly over his brow. He seemed eager and expectant, 
 and as they approached the gate they heard him say, 
 " Simon, you 'd better go to the swing for little Jennie ; 
 perhaps she 's fallen and got a hurt." 
 
 " Here she is, sir," said the butler, and the old gentle 
 man dropped his hat and cane and opened his arms to the 
 little girl, who sprang into them and nestled there as if it 
 were her happiest resting-place. There was something so 
 child-like in the old man's tenderness toward her, that she 
 returned it as if he had been one of her youthful play 
 mates. The wandering of his intellect had robbed him of 
 that dignity and superiority which the young stand so 
 much in awe of, and although the children respected him, 
 they felt that their amusements were suited to his capaeity 
 therefore they crowded around the seat in the garden, 
 and every day Jennie would sit beside him and read or 
 sew, while he wound her curls over his thin fingers, or the 
 three would play beneath the old trees, while he would 
 gaze at them as contentedly as if it were the chief end of 
 his existence. 
 
 It was sad to think of separating them, but Jennie must
 
 62 JENNIE GRIG. 
 
 return to her school, and the poor old man be left to his 
 weariness and vacancy. On the day of the child's depart 
 ure, he looked vainly for her appearance until the time of 
 her usual coming was passed, and then, with a low moan 
 and a pitiful face, he sank back upon the bench. Old 
 Simon tried to arouse and interest him, but he only shook 
 his head, and looked about him with the old air of melan 
 choly, and murmured, " Little Jennie dear little Jennie."
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 " SIMON," said Mrs. Halberg, as they were alighting 
 from their carriage at the garden gate a few weeks after, 
 " how has the old gentleman been during our absence ? 
 Does he seem any thing like his former self?" 
 
 " Oh ! he 's very bad, very bad, ma'am, since the young 
 lady that was visiting Miss Rosalie left. He took wonder 
 fully to her, and seemed as happy as could be while she 
 was here. I thought, perhaps, 't was the name, but the 
 likeness was amazin' !" 
 
 The lady did not hear the latter remark, but she merely 
 said, " What was the name, Simon !" scarcely heeding his 
 reply, as she went up the avenue to the house, stopping one 
 moment to say " How d' ye do" to the old man. 
 
 " Oh ! 'tis so pleasant to be home again !" said Came, 
 the youngest daughter, and springing lightly from the 
 carriage, she ran up to the old gentleman, and, throwing 
 her arms around his neck, she kissed him again and again, 
 saying " 'T was cruel to leave you so long alone, dear 
 grandpa, was n't it ? I would n't give any thing for all 
 Europe in comparison with this blessed home and one 
 pleasant day beneath these old trees; and I've missed
 
 64 JENNIE GKIG. 
 
 you so, grandpa. Oh ! 'tis too pleasant to be at home 
 again !" 
 
 " Do save your raptures, Carrie, until we are free from 
 observation," said her sister Ellen, as she went sauntering 
 up the walk, followed by her other sister, neither of them 
 bestowing more than a glance upon their afflicted grand 
 father. 
 
 A group of village boys were peeping through the fence, 
 evidently much interested in the arrivals and the affection 
 ate greeting which Carrie bestowed upon the old man. 
 
 " Nobody will ever suspect that we have traveled if you 
 are so unsophisticated in your feelings and expressions," 
 continued Ellen; but observing that her reproof received 
 no attention, she and Mary went into the house, leaving 
 the sweet child with the pure breath of nature all around 
 her, and her own heart as fresh and uncontaminated. The 
 old man returned her caresses, and smiled upon her as 
 he said, " My Jennie ! dear little Jennie !" 
 
 Carrie was so delighted at her grandfather's apparent joy 
 on seeing her that she cared little for the name, yet sup 
 posing he had only forgotten it, she said, " Carrie, grand 
 pa Carrie;" but he only murmured still, "Dear little 
 Jennie ! dear little Jennie !" 
 
 " What does it mean, Simon," said she ; " does n't he 
 remember me ?" 
 
 " 'T was a nice young lady that was called Jennie ; she 
 was here with Miss Rosalie, and your grandpa, miss, was 
 so happy all the time she staid. He has been very low,
 
 JENNIE GRIG. 65 
 
 miss, ever since she left till you came. Maybe lie thinks 
 'tis she come again ; you 're not unlike her, Miss Carrie." 
 
 " Well, I '11 be called Jennie, too, since you prefer it, 
 grandpa. See what I've brought you! 'way across the 
 blue waters, from Scotland ! Is n't it a bonnie plaid ?" and 
 she held out before him a real Highland shawl, and, fold 
 ing it, threw it around his shoulders. " 'Tis so nice to 
 Avear out here, dear grandpa, when it is chilly." 
 
 The old man looked at the bright colors, and felt of the 
 soft wool, and then his eyes rested fondly upon his grand 
 child, who was scattering sugar-plums among the little 
 group without the gate. Eagerly they gathered them up in 
 their greedy hands, and went scampering off to their homes 
 to exhibit their treasures, while Carrie went to the house 
 accompanied by her proud father, on whose arm the old 
 gentleman was feebly leaning. That evening, as the newly- 
 returned party was seated around the center-table, Carrie 
 stole quietly to her grandfather's room, and leaning her 
 elbows upon his knees, looked wonderingly up into his 
 mild eyes, while he muttered softly, " Dear little Jennie ! 
 dear little Jennie !"
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 KOSALIE came betimes to see her young friend, and as 
 they walked together around the garden, they had much 
 to say about the long journey, and the many strange 
 things that Came had seen and heard, and then they came 
 back again to home events, and to the school that Rosalie 
 had just left, and that Carrie would soon enter, and this 
 led them to speak of Jennie, who was to be Carrie's room 
 mate. 
 
 " Has she no other name ?" said Carrie to Rosalie ; " I 
 hear nothing but 'Jennie, Jennie,' all the time." 
 
 " Oh ! her mother's name is Dunmore that is, her 
 adopted mother. Her own mother is dead ; but is n't it 
 strange, I never thought to ask her what her real name is! 
 You can not help loving her, Carrie, I know. In the first 
 place, she 's beautiful, and that goes for something, I think ; 
 and then, she 's as good as she is pretty. Why, Carrie, I 
 do believe you are a little like her ! There, throw your hat 
 back, and let your hair fall about your shoulders, so 'tis 
 strange ! I should think you were sisters." 
 
 " Well, well, Rosalie, I should like to put my hat on 
 when you have done admiring me ; I suppose I shall see 
 this paragon of a Jennie on Monday, if I live."
 
 JENNIE GEIG. 67 
 
 " She will not seem a paragon to you, Carrie, but a 
 simple, loving, truthful girl, and before you know it, you '11 
 have your arm around her neck and your lips to hers as 
 if you had been friends all your life." 
 
 " What do you think of Madame La Blanche, Rosalie ? 
 Shall I be much afraid of her ?" 
 
 " Afraid of her ! Why, Carrie, she 's as kind as my 
 own mother, and many a time, when the girls are sad or 
 home-sick, she sends for them to go to her pleasant room, 
 and there she amuses them with pictures and curiosities 
 until they forget all their sorrows. She does n't seem like 
 a school-teacher, Carrie, but like some dear affectionate 
 relative." 
 
 " Well, it is very pleasant here in my own lovely home, 
 and I dread leaving so soon again; and then, there's 
 grandpa, I can not bear to be away from him. Nobody 
 seems to cheer him as I can can they, grandpa ?" and the 
 dear child sat down beside the old man upon the bench 
 which they had just reached, and looked thoughtfully upon 
 the bowed figure near her. 
 
 " You '11 come every day to see him while I am gone 
 won't you, Rosalie ? and try to keep him contented and 
 happy 1 It seems so sad," continued she, " to have no real 
 comfort in life excepting one little gleam, and then to have 
 even that taken from you ! Never mind, grandpa, Jennie 
 will come back again, soon." 
 
 The old man picked up, one by one, some white petals 
 that had fallen upon his knees from a tree near them, and,
 
 68 JENNIE GRIG. 
 
 letting them drop again, said, " Don't stay long, dear little 
 Jennie. Simon, is the swing safe ? You 'd better see that 
 it is tied firmly to the branches." 
 
 " Yes, sir," said Simon ; " I '11 attend to it, sir. It is 
 well, miss," he added, " that we have the old swing to fall 
 back upon. Every day while you were gone, when your 
 grandpa seemed uneasy about you, and asked often for 
 you, I 'd have to say, ' she 's down to the old Buttonwood, 
 sir only down to the old Buttonwood ;' and then he 'd 
 rest easy like. The time seemed weary and long to me, 
 miss, as I put him off from day to day ; but a year and a 
 day is all the same to him, miss all the same." 
 
 " Well, Simon," said Carrie, " I 'm so glad you are here 
 with him ; I should never take a bit of comfort if you 
 were not. Even in those strange countries, where there 
 was so much that was new and beautiful to interest me, I 
 could not forget the dear old figure beneath the trees at 
 home, and the thought that you understood him and could 
 cheer him was all that kept me contented and happy." 
 
 " Ah, miss, it 's a dreadful bereavement !" said the old 
 butler, shaking his head. Such a noble-looking old gen 
 tleman as your grandfather was before this came upon him ! 
 I used to watch him as he walked up and down these 
 avenues with Miss Jennie, that 's dead and gone, upon his 
 arm, and a prouder father I never saw. He 's only a 
 wreck now, Miss Carrie, a pitiful wreck !" and the good 
 servant drew his coat-sleeve across his face, and turned 
 hastily away.
 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 MEANTIME frequent communications had passed between 
 Mrs. Dunmore and her daughter, and now came glad 
 anticipations of a speedy return to the home and child of 
 her love. Her mission was accomplished. "The silver 
 string was loosed, the golden bowl broken ;" and the old 
 and wearied body laid away for its long and peaceful rest. 
 For months had she soothed its pains, and rendered its 
 pathway to the tomb easy and pleasant, and now that the 
 green earth covered it, and its repose could be no more 
 disturbed, her heart yearned toward the child of her adop 
 tion, and the hours lagged heavily that must intervene be 
 fore they could meet again. Business transactions in con 
 nection with the possessions of the deceased still required 
 her presence for awhile, and she must yield to the demands 
 of duty. Jennie would have been quite impatient, had 
 not Carrie Halberg's arrival reconciled her to another 
 school term before rejoining her mother in their delightful 
 home. 
 
 " Rosalie has told me so much about you," said she, as 
 she ushered her into their cosey room. "I feel as if I 
 quite know you already. It would be strange if we did
 
 70 JENNIE GKIG. 
 
 not know each other, when we have the same grandpa, 
 would n't it ?" 
 
 "Oh yes, Kosalie told me how fond grand-pa was of 
 you, and I'm sure I owe you a great deal of affection 
 for going so often to see him while he was alone. Simon 
 said he was sad indeed after you came away, and that he 
 would stand for hours by the gate looking down the street 
 toward the old Buttonwood for you. I never knew him to 
 fancy any one but Rosalie besides me, before ; but Rosalie 
 and Simon both think we are alike, and I suppose he 
 thought you were me." 
 
 " Very likely," said Jennie ; " but Carrie, what made 
 him fancy the name so ? I heard Simon say 't was all in 
 the name." 
 
 " Oh ! that was the name of my aunt that 's dead ; she 
 was an only daughter. Did n't you see her portrait hang 
 ing in my grandfather's room ?" 
 
 " I was never in the house, Carrie, for there were none 
 but servants there, you know, and then the garden was so 
 pleasant ! Was your aunt pretty ?" 
 
 " I never hear any one but father speak of her, and lie 
 often visits her portrait, and never leaves it without weep 
 ing it is very beautiful ! But you shall see it, Jennie, for 
 my father promises me you shall return with me to my 
 home. He is so delighted to add to my grandfather's 
 comfort in any way. Isn't it dreadful, Jennie, to be in 
 this lovely world with so much around you to charm 
 and please, and yet the sense of enjoyment gone, and
 
 JENNIE GKIG. 71 
 
 brightness and beauty all the same as if it were brown 
 and sere? You'll find me a dull companion, I fear, 
 Jennie, for I've grown old and thoughtful by seeing so 
 much of poor grandpa." 
 
 " Perhaps I am made thoughtful, too, by past troubles, 
 Carrie ! It does n't need age to bring sorrows upon us." 
 
 "What griefs can have bowed those youthful heads 
 so early, my darlings ?" said Madame La Blanche, who had 
 softly entered the room and caught part of Jennie's 
 sentence. It is better to recount the many mercies of our 
 lot, rather than to dwell upon the ills of life ! Indeed, 
 our very sorrows often prove blessings to us if we will but 
 permit them to work the effect designed;" and sitting 
 down in one of the wide windows, she drew the young 
 girls to her and placing one on either side, there, while 
 the shadows were lengthening in the beautiful garden, and 
 the night came creeping silently on, she talked to them 
 as a gentle mother would, of the great object and aim of 
 this mortal life, and the high destiny which all may attain 
 if they only so far desire it as to strive after it, and as the 
 evening stole upon them, and the stars came quietly out in 
 the mild heavens, she kissed them tenderly and left them 
 to the sweet influences of the calm night, and of their own 
 subdued thoughts. For a long time the two girls sat gazing 
 earnestly upward, while one heart dwelt lovingly upon the 
 old figure with silvery locks, and the other upon the 
 spirits of her departed parents that seemed even then 
 hovering about her.
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 " ONLY three weeks more to vacation," said Mary Hal- 
 berg, as she entered the parlor one morning with an open 
 letter in her hand. 
 
 " What does Carrie say about her young friend ?" said 
 her father, looking up from his newspaper. "Has she 
 prevailed upon her to accompany her home ?" 
 
 "Oh! yes, and you know that rich widow Dunmore, 
 whom we met at the Springs ? Well, she 's coming to 
 
 remain in while Jennie is with us. It seems she has 
 
 carried out one of her eccentric whims and taken some 
 foundling to be her own child, and we are upholding her 
 by admitting the girl to our house on an intimate footing 
 with Carrie." 
 
 " I don't see," said Ellen, " what good all our advantages 
 of education and travel will do us, if we are to mingle with 
 all sorts of people, and, as to Carrie, she is quite careless 
 enough now in her choice of associates, without our seek 
 ing those of the lower order for her." 
 
 " No good, my daughters, will either your knowledge or 
 your position do you, if they are to exalt you so far above 
 your fellow-creatures as to render any of them contempt-
 
 JENNIE Gil I G. 73 
 
 iblo in your estimation," said Mr. Halberg ; " I rejoice that 
 the heart of your sister is, as yet, only susceptible to warm 
 and kindly emotions, and I trust you will both treat with 
 politeness the young stranger who whatever her former 
 station in life may have been is, as the adopted child of 
 Mrs. Dunmore, entitled to every attention and courtesy 
 from us all." 
 
 Mary looked abashed as her father arose and left the 
 room ; but her sister only muttered " I 'm sure it makes 
 no difference to me whether she comes or not 'tis precious 
 little I shall trouble myself about her. What do you think 
 Rosalie told me the other day ?" continued she, addressing 
 Mary; "why, that this Jennie used to sweep the dirty 
 crossings of Broadway, and herd with vulgar beggars, and 
 that Mrs. Dunmore took her from this vile condition to her 
 own house, as her own child. It came pretty straight, for 
 one of Mrs. Dunmore's servants told old Jimmy, Mr. Mann's 
 coachman, and so it got to Ilattie, who is at Madame La 
 Blanche's school." 
 
 "I thought Rosalie was as much in love with her* as 
 Carrie," said Mary. 
 
 "Well, so she is; but she did not know any thing 
 about this until Hattie Mann wrote to her the other day. 
 I don't suppose it would make any difference to her, how 
 ever, for she says that Jennie is more lady-like, and further 
 advanced in her studies than any of the girls, and that she 
 would choose her for a companion rather than any of them, 
 even if she had once been a street-sweeper." 
 4
 
 74 JENNIE GRIG. 
 
 " Spoken like my own good sister," said Henry Moore, 
 thrusting aside the vines that shaded the window where 
 the young ladies were sitting. " Pardon, mademoiselles ! 
 I was not intentionally an eaves-dropper ; but hearing your 
 voices in this direction I came to seek you, and thus heard 
 that little heroic of my pet Rosalie." 
 
 " Why, Henry, where did you come from ?" said Mary ; 
 "I thought you were still safe within college bounds." 
 
 " Oh !" said Henry, " I left my Alma Mater in disgust yes 
 terday morning. Did you suppose even her kindly em 
 brace could keep me away from during these pleasant 
 
 months ? My motto is ' recreation as well as labor.' But 
 come, Nellie, lay aside that embroidery, and go with Mary 
 and me to Blinkdale the sun has dried the dew, and the 
 birds are having a perfect concert among the old trees 
 Rosalie is waiting for us at the gate." 
 
 "Grandpa's going too," said Rosalie, as her brother 
 and their two friends reached her; "you must lead the 
 way, for we have to walk very slowly you know, and, tak 
 ing the old man's hand, she led him as gently as if he were 
 a child ; and Avhen they found the pleasant dale she ar 
 ranged a nice seat for him in the shade, and lifting his hat 
 from his head she fanned him with it until he seemed cool 
 and comfortable, and then joined the little group near. 
 Henry had watched her with a heart full of affection, and 
 Mary could not help being moved by her quiet and natural 
 kindness ; but Ellen laughed heartily as she said " You are 
 a capital nurse, Rosalie ; if old Simon should happen to
 
 JENNIE GKIG. 75 
 
 drop oft" some day, we shall know where to look for a sub 
 stitute." 
 
 Eosalie blushed as she caught her brother's earnest eye, 
 but she only said " I 'm always happy to wait on grandpa. 
 Is n't Carrie coming soon ? and Jennie, too," continued she. 
 ' " I can scarcely wait much longer to see them !" 
 
 "Three weeks will soon vanish, and then I suppose you '11 
 have a merry time together," said Ellen. Came writes in 
 high spirits, and one would think from her delight at 
 returning that there was no place in the whole world equal 
 to this stupid village." 
 
 "I don't consider it stupid at all," said Rosalie, with 
 some spirit ; " I am sure I would not exchange it for any 
 place I ever saw !" 
 
 " Oh, well, Rosalie, we all acknowledge that your means 
 of comparison are very extensive," replied Ellen ; " I don't 
 care to quarrel with my native place, but I must confess it 
 has not so many attractions for me as you seem to see 
 in it," 
 
 Rosalie did not exactly understand Ellen's sneer, but the 
 remark disturbed her serenity, and she moved softly away 
 from the sisters and sat down beside the old gentleman, 
 weaving garlands for him to pull in pieces, and thinking 
 of the happy time, so soon coming, when she could once 
 more be with her young companions. 
 
 " Who is this Jennie that my sister talks so much about ?" 
 said Henry. 
 
 " She 's a protegee of Mrs. Dunmore's, and manages to
 
 16 JENNIE GRIG. 
 
 win the love of all who know her, I should think, from all 
 I hear concerning her," said Mary. " She visited Rosalie 
 while we were in Europe, and my grandfather took a great 
 fancy to her because of her name, and my father insists 
 upon her coming home with Carrie to spend the vacation. 
 Perhaps there '11 be another heart missing when you see 
 her, Henry." 
 
 " In that case," said the young man, " it will be hardly 
 safe to extend my term of absence from my studies until 
 the arrival of your guest. I don't see what I am to do 
 among such a bevy of you girls," continued he, as they 
 strolled leisurely homeward ; " it will be rather a dangerous 
 position." 
 
 "Not at all so, unless we catch you eaves-dropping 
 again," said Mary, laughing, as he bade them good-morn 
 ing, and turned to assist Rosalie in the care of the old man. 
 It was pleasant to see them walking up the village street 
 the strong and vigorous youth lending itself to the support 
 of that tottering frame, and the child-like, rosy girl giving 
 her sweet care and sympathy to his withered, dependent
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 SIGNS of life were again visible about the great house 
 in the avenue. The blinds were thrown open, and the rich 
 drapery hung gracefully by the open windows. Grocers' 
 and butchers' boys were hurrying in through the gates to 
 empty their heavy baskets, while little beggar-children 
 emerged from them with theirs richly laden. The passers- 
 by looked gladly up, rejoicing that the long-deserted man 
 sion was once more occupied. The walks were neatly 
 swept, the lawns well trimmed, and the shrubs carefully 
 trained. A little fountain leaped joyously in one of the 
 grass-plots, pet canaries warbled from their cages among 
 the green vines, and every thing around the place be 
 tokened the approaching return of its refined and tasteful 
 mistress. The expectant servants ran hither and thither 
 from window to door, and from door to window, thrusting 
 out their woolly heads at every sound of carnage-wheels. 
 Never lagged the time so wearily, and never was house 
 more joyous than that, as the waning day brought the loved 
 ones beneath its roof. 
 
 Mrs. Dunmore lay upon the couch in her pleasant bou 
 doir, weary and travel-worn, yet not insensible to the 
 delight of being once more at home. By her side, on a
 
 78 JENNIE GKIG. 
 
 low ottoman, was the child of her adoption, her hand 
 clasping that of her mother, whose eyes were fixed upon 
 her with tenderness and love. Both hearts were al 
 most too full for utterance ; the mother seemed content 
 to watch the varying emotions as they played upon 
 the face of her sweet child, and the young girl betray 
 ed her earnest, affectionate feelings in frequent but silent 
 caresses. It was such a mercy to be spared so many 
 years to meet again, and to find each other all that 
 they desired the one the same kind, devoted, Christian 
 mother, and the other as warm-hearted as ever, repaying 
 all the care and regard lavished upon her by a correspond 
 ing improvement, and by an unmeasured gratitude and 
 esteem. It was such a happiness, too, to Mrs. Dunmore to 
 feel that, in braving the world's opinion and taking to her 
 bosom an outcast and deserted one, she was so fully com 
 pensated by the companionship of the graceful and beauti 
 ful girl who was now competent to sympathize in all that 
 pleased or disturbed her. What was all her wealth, what 
 were the elegances and luxuries that surrounded her, what 
 the fashionable friends who crowded to welcome her, com 
 pared to that one fresh, trusting, loving heart, that clung 
 to hers with such strength and ardor of affection ! 
 
 Many a time during their long separation had her spirit 
 gone yearningly out toward the child, and now she was 
 beside her again with deep eyes beaming earnestly upon 
 her, and red lips pressed ever and anon to her own with 
 an overflowing fondness.
 
 JENNIE GRIG. 79 
 
 The twilight was in the room, and through its dimness 
 the little portrait on the wall was visible, no longer 
 shrouded in somber weeds, but in its brightness and 
 simplicity gazing doAvn upon the two loving ones beneath 
 it, and seeming to share in their deep and hallowed joy. 
 
 The young girl bowed her head until it rested softly 
 upon the bosom of her mother, as she said, "It is so sweet 
 to be here, dear mamma ! Often have I walked past this 
 desolate house, with the feeling that it might never again 
 open to receive me, and it seems so like a dream that I 
 am here once more, with the cold world wholly shut out 
 from me, and your warm, warm heart beating so close to 
 mine again !" 
 
 "Has the world indeed been cold to you, my darl 
 ing," said Mrs. Dunmore, " and have you found no kind 
 friends to make my absence less weary ? I had hoped 
 that Madame La Blanche would prove a fond and faithful 
 mother." 
 
 "And so she has, dear mamma, but thoughts of the 
 past would sometimes come up to trouble me, and then I 
 needed you to help me bear it, and to bring sunshine and 
 peace from it all. This was at first when I felt quite 
 alone in the world, after you had gone ; but I tried after 
 ward to do as Madame La Blanche said was the better 
 way to put every thing bitter from me, and try to think 
 only of the good that was all around me. "When we were 
 gloomy or dispirited, she would say, ' I know it is very try 
 ing, my children, to be separated from your parents and
 
 80 -I E X X I E G R I G . 
 
 friends ; but you must remember that so long as you are 
 with me, I stand in the same relationship to you all ; and 
 that my heart will be cast down and pained if you fail to 
 come freely to me with all your little burdens and sor 
 rows.' She said too, that 'we were as one dear and 
 pleasant family, and that each of us must strive to bring 
 as much brightness as possible into our little household, 
 and then we could not help being happy.' Nobody 
 could be kinder nor better than Madame La Blanche, and 
 Rosalie and Carrie were as sweet sisters to me ; but there 
 were some things I could never speak to them about, and 
 I am so glad that you who know me so truly are here 
 again! I shall have nothing now to ask excepting that 
 you go away from your poor child no more." 
 
 " Never fear, my darling," said Mrs. Dunmore, " nothing 
 shall again come between us so long as God permits us 
 to dwell upon the earth ; but we must not forget to pre 
 pare for a severance that must one day come, so that we 
 may be reunited where all partings shall forever, be 
 over." 
 
 Jennie clasped still tighter the hand of her mother, as 
 she thought how severely that long separation would try 
 one or the other of them ; but she said nothing, for her 
 heart was busy with the memory of the loved ones who 
 had gone before her to the home above, and she felt that 
 she had indeed many incentives to struggle for the same 
 blessed inheritance. 
 
 The twilight went out into thick darkness, leaving
 
 JENNIEGKIG. 81 
 
 the mother and child to their happy communings in 
 the boudoir, amid the blest associations of a cherished 
 past. 
 
 The hum of the streets was hushed. Few sounds came 
 from without ; but the silence that had so long reigned 
 in the mansion, was broken by the gentle tones of loving 
 and glad voices. 
 
 4*
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 "WELL, Henry, how shall we kill time this evening?" 
 said Fred. Burling to Henry Moore, as the two colleagues 
 sauntered up and down the gallery of Mr. Moore's house. 
 
 "If by killing time you mean spending the hours pleas 
 antly, I think we had better go and chat awhile with 
 Mr. Halberg's pretty daughters," replied Henry ; " I believe 
 you consider yourself quite a connoisseur in beauty. Per 
 haps we shall both find our beau-ideal there to-night. 
 Mary told me they were expecting a visit from a young 
 friend who is skilled in captivating hearts, and Rosalie says 
 she arrived this morning. Have you seen her, Rosalie ?" 
 continued he, addressing his sister, who appeared at the 
 door as they were walking past it. 
 
 " Why, Henry, there are so many hers in the world, and 
 even in our own little village, that it would take a better 
 clairvoyant than myself to decide which you mean," said 
 Rosalie, glancing upon him with a sparkle in her merry 
 eye. 
 
 " I supposed," said Henry, " your mind would be so full 
 of your friend that she would immediately occur to you as 
 the object of my inquiry."
 
 .JENNIE GKIU. 83 
 
 " I hope you don't mean to insinuate that I have but one 
 friend !" answered the sister, with another roguish twinkle 
 of her mischievous eye ; " because, dear brother, I have 
 a great, great many, I flatter myself; but to tease you no 
 longer, I have seen her, and she is just as winning and 
 lovely as ever." 
 
 " Well, Fred," said Henry, " if it does not appear too 
 formidable to your susceptibility, we will venture to meet 
 the young ladies. Get your hat, Rosalie," he added, as 
 his sister moved away ; " we need you to enliven our walk." 
 
 " I am afraid you will scarcely appreciate so brilliant a 
 companion," said Rosalie ; " but no%natter, I '11 go, I may 
 glean a few bright ideas by contact with a certain classical 
 duo that I wot of;" and the blithe young girl hastened 
 away, and soon returned equipped for their stroll. 
 
 " Miss Rosalie," said Fred, as he drew her hand within 
 his arm ; " tell me all about this friend of yours. I believe 
 that is sufficiently definite to distinguish the new comer, is 
 it not ?" 
 
 " Oh, yes," said his companion, " I was only bantering 
 Henry a little ; but, really, Mr. Burling, I have nothing to 
 tell you concerning Jennie, excepting that we were school 
 mates for a long time, and that in consequence we feel a 
 great deal of fondness and affection for each other." 
 
 " I thought," said Fred, " there was some mystery about 
 her birth and history so Henry says." 
 
 " And so there is to me," replied Rosalie, but I can not 
 attempt to solve it, since she was never communicative
 
 84 JENNIE GRIG. 
 
 with regard to her early life ; there was a good deal of 
 gossiping among the girls at school, on account of a 
 report which came through an old servant of Mrs. Dun- 
 more's that she was of very humble origin ; but she was so 
 lady-like, and so much beloved by us all that we quite dis 
 credited the story, although, for my own part, I don't care 
 a straw what her parentage was, since she is worthy and 
 refined." 
 
 " You will perceive," said Henry, "that this little sister of 
 mine is a very independent young lady, and founds her 
 likes and dislikes upon her own opinions, rather than upon 
 the prejudices and conventionalities of society." 
 
 " It is well," returned Fred, " that there are some who 
 make merit or demerit the distinguishing marks instead of 
 rank or Avealth. I confess that my own notions wholly ac 
 cord with those of Miss Rosalie. What ! are we here so 
 soon ?" continued he, as they reached the entrance to Mr. 
 Halberg's grounds. 
 
 " I should think we were in the region of the Dryads !" 
 said Henry, as several white figures were visible amid the 
 trees. "Who's eaves-dropping, now," added he, as Mary 
 came suddenly upon him from behind a neighboring shrub. 
 
 " I plead, not guilty," said Mary ; " but, Henry, where 
 are your offerings? you should not come into the presence 
 of deities without suitable gifts." 
 
 " Permit me to present to you my friend Mr. Burling, 
 Miss Halberg," said Honry, as the young man approached 
 with Rosalie and Ellen.
 
 JENNIE GRIG. 85 
 
 " You see I have not forgotten the custom to bring some 
 propitiatory sacrifice." 
 
 " A very acceptable one in these days of dearth," said 
 Mary, blushing. " We are a very secluded race," continued 
 she, addressing Mr. Burling, " and the arrival of friends is 
 quite an era in our quiet life." 
 
 " It is a wonder that we do not wholly vegetate," said 
 Ellen. " Do not you think, Henry, that we are in danger 
 of dissipating too much, now that our coterie is so greatly 
 enlarged ?" 
 
 The young man looked thoughtfully upon her for a 
 moment, and then replied " There needs not an increased 
 circle, nor the seductions of a fashionable clique, Nellie, to 
 lead us to excess ; the soul may run riot, and indulge in 
 vain repinings for the follies and vanities of life, even in 
 the remotest solitudes. But come, let us go to the piazza, 
 I see your youngest sister there, and wish also to make the 
 acquaintance of your guest." 
 
 Just then Carrie and Jennie espied Rosalie, and, running 
 forward, met her with the warmest manifestations of de 
 light, and seizing upon her, they hurried her on to see 
 
 
 grandpa, who sat in his arm-chair on the piazza, with the 
 
 cool breeze refreshing his fevered brow. 
 
 It was a beautiful sight, the three young girls just burst 
 ing into womanhood, with their earnest and pure natures, 
 ministering to the faint old man who was fast wasting 
 away from this earthly being. Henry and his friend were 
 deeply impressed by it, and dreaded to disturb so charming
 
 86 JENNIE GRIG. 
 
 a picture, but as they advanced to greet Mr. and Mrs. 
 Halberg, Carrie sprang to meet her old friend Henry, and 
 leading him to her grandfather's seat, introduced him to 
 Jennie, and placed a chair for him by her side. The young 
 girl looked up with a sweet smile as he asked her some 
 question concerning her escape from school, and shaking 
 back the heavy mass of ringlets that shaded her forehead, 
 she replied, " School was any thing but a prison-house to 
 me, yet I love very much to be occasionally free from a 
 fixed routine of duties, especially when I find so pleasant a 
 retreat as this, and so dear a charge as grandpa. We all 
 have a care for him," she added, taking in Carrie and 
 Rosalie with her fond glance. 
 
 " Grandpa's shoulders ought to be very broad to support 
 so many descendants," said Ellen, looking scornfully at 
 their beautiful guest. " Henry, why do you not aspire to 
 so distinguished a relationship ?" 
 
 " People often aspire to that which they can not attain," 
 said Henry, with a look of quiet but deep earnestness at 
 Jennie, whose eyes sunk under his gaze, and whose heart 
 swelled with emotion at the thought of her own isolated 
 fate. " No father, no mother, no kindred," felt she, " and 
 even the love of this weak old man grudged me by one 
 who has all !" She said nothing more while the visitors 
 remained, but sat with the palsied hand in her soft palm, 
 dreaming of the time when she should be gathered into the 
 bosom of a ransomed family, and her spirit grew calm with 
 the thought, so that when Rosalie and the young men
 
 JENNIE GRIG. 87 
 
 arose to leave, and asked her to join them in a little ex 
 cursion on the morrow, she answered them with a beaming 
 and glad face. 
 
 " Fred," said Henry, as they left the gate, " I never can 
 forget that face. Did you see how almost heavenly it was 
 as she stood by old Mr. Halberg when we left ?" 
 
 " It was indeed a lovely picture," said Fred ; " the old 
 bowed head with the evening's breath moving the gray 
 hair, and that delicate girl, with her white dress glistening 
 in the moon-beams, and, with the seraphic expression on 
 her brow !"
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 
 
 " ELEANOK," said Mr. Halberg to his -wife, after the young 
 people had retired to rest, " there is something very singu 
 lar about that girl. She is so like our departed Jane that 
 she awakens my deepest interest. Did you notice her 
 manners, at once so child-like and so mature ? I must in 
 quire more particularly about her of Mrs. Dunmore; it 
 strikes me she is no common child." 
 
 " I paid no especial attention to her," replied the wife ; 
 " she is sufficiently long under the influence of a refined 
 example to overcome all taint of birth and early habit, 
 however." 
 
 " I tell you, wife," said the husband, " there 's an innate 
 pride and dignity about the girl that no training could 
 effect. I watched her all the evening, and could detect 
 nothing but -fee most perfect ease and grace. Her face, 
 too, haunts me. Do you remember how pure and earnest 
 the expression of Jane's eye was ? Well, there 's the same 
 look in that young girl's, so that I longed to take her to 
 my heart and call her sister. If we had not learned with 
 such apparent certainty about the death of the child I 
 should say this was she," soliloquized he, as his wife left
 
 JENNIE GRIG. 89 
 
 the room for one moment, and resuming the subject as she 
 returned. " Why, Eleanor, how long is it since my father 
 lost his reason ?" 
 
 " About four years, I believe," replied Mrs. Halberg. 
 
 " And our poor Jane had been twelve years away, and 
 her little one was born three years after her marriage, and 
 this child is how old did you say, wife ?" 
 
 "I'm sure I don't know, Frank; but what possesses 
 you ? Have you any idea that Jane's child is still living ? 
 and if it were so and we should ever find it out, are you 
 not aware how materially it would affect our own chil 
 dren's share of their grandfather's, property?" said Mrs. 
 Halberg, blushing for very shame, as she encountered her 
 husband's searching and grieved eye. 
 
 " Eleanor," said he, " my sister was bitterly wronged ! 
 God only knows how and what she suffered, not only from 
 the neglect and desertion of her kindred ; but from the 
 stern pinchings of want. For my own part," continued 
 he, leaning his head upon his hand, and sighing deeply, 
 " I- would be willing to forfeit all the inheritance if by that 
 means I could make some reparation for the cruel past !" 
 
 " Well, well, Frank, it can not be helped now ! Since it 
 is all over, why not let it go without troubling yourself 
 with vain regrets ?" 
 
 " Those are not vain regrets, Eleanor," said the husband, 
 " which purify the soul. My father has been spared the 
 agony of remorse for the one great error of his life, by a 
 merciful Providence which has made the sad past oblivious
 
 90 JENNIE GRIG. 
 
 to him ; but ray heart would be hardened indeed, if it 
 should cease to feel an intense sorrow for the wrongs com 
 mitted against the patient and sainted one." 
 
 Mrs. Halberg was touched by her husband's unfeigned 
 grief. He had never spoken so fully to her before, on a 
 subject which, by common consent, all the family had 
 avoided, and she knew not until now how weighty had 
 been the burden of his secret repinings. Before the world 
 he was unbending and reserved ; but now as he sat in the 
 solitude of his chamber, with only his wife's eye upon him, 
 save that of the Omniscient, the proud man yielded to a 
 long pent-up emotion, and wept like a child. " Eleanor," 
 said he, as he felt the tears from other eyes mingling with 
 his own, " tell me that if it is ever in our power to make 
 restitution for the sins of other years, you will aid me with 
 all your power, even if it were to our own pecuniary loss ?" 
 
 The Avife placed his hand fondly upon the heart that 
 was beating for him so truly, and kissing him tenderly, 
 murmured, " My husband, I promise !" 
 
 " If," continued he, " it should prove upon thorough in 
 vestigation which has been already too long delayed 
 that the child of my sister was spared, and is even now 
 living, will you take her to your home and cherish her as 
 one of your own children, so that she may feel no want of 
 sympathy and love ?" 
 
 With the hand still upon the life-spring, the affectionate 
 wife earnestly answered, " My husband, I will. But why," 
 said she, after a moment's hesitation, " do you doubt the
 
 JENNIE GRIG. 91 
 
 truth of the report, that you have hitherto considered 
 credible ?" 
 
 " It never occurred to me," said Mr. Halberg, " that it 
 might be false, until to-night ; but Eleanor, presentiments 
 come sometimes upon us with all the force of a certain 
 conviction, and my conscience will never be easy until I , 
 make some effort to find out, beyond the shadow of doubt, 
 whether my sister's child is wandering upon the earth, 
 yearning for kindred and home, or is gathered to the 
 home which is brighter than any this world can afford. 
 What first awakened these thoughts within me, was the 
 sight of a gipsy woman to-day. She stopped me in the 
 street to beg a few pennies, and by the hand she held a 
 gentle little creature of five or six years old, which I was 
 confident could not be her own. Visions of a bereaved 
 and mourning family, and of the future of the delicate 
 child, troubled me, and the feeling that one bound to me 
 by a dearer tie than that of humanity, might be roaming 
 amid the vicious and low, smote me with such cruel misery 
 that I have not since been able to regain my wonted 
 calmness, and the coming of this beauteous child, so like 
 my sister, has excited my anxieties and fears still more." 
 
 " I doubt not but that it is all a fantasy of the imagina 
 tion, Frank. You had better take a composing draught, 
 and to-morrow will find you more cheerful," said the wife. 
 
 " I know of none more soothing," replied Mr. Halberg, 
 as he prepared for his night's repose, "than a spirit at 
 peace with God and man."
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 " JENNIE," said Carrie the next morning, " come with 
 me and we '11 get a peep at the portrait. I saw father go 
 into the room a moment since, and grandpa's out on the 
 piazza. We '11 step softly just inside the door, for father 
 never likes to be disturbed when he 's there." 
 
 With their arms about each other's waists the two 
 friends went skipping along, until they reached the apart 
 ment appropriated to the old gentleman. The door was 
 partially open and they could see through the crack the 
 dark figure of Carrie's father standing with his back to 
 ward them. The room seemed very bright and cheerful, 
 and the rich colors of a gay carpet, and the elaborate 
 carving of the massive and antique furniture rendered it 
 still more pleasant and attractive. As they were about to 
 cross the threshold, and Carrie had her hand against the 
 door to push it open still further, Jennie whispered, " Stop 
 a minute, Carrie, my heart beats so! I'm afraid your 
 father will not like it if we intrude upon him now ! You 
 know there 's something very sacred in one's sorrow !" 
 
 Mr. Halberg, meanwhile, had withdrawn the black vail 
 which had obscured the portrait since his sister's marriage,
 
 JENNIE GKIG. 93 
 
 and stood thoughtfully gazing upon the lovely features, 
 and comparing them with those of the young girl, whose 
 image filled his mind. " It is very strange," mur 
 mured he ; " the same waving mass of hair, the same 
 beautifully-arched brows and long lashes, and the liquid 
 eyes, melting one with their subduing pathos; the very 
 expression so like, too ! It is very wonderful ! very won 
 derful !" and he wiped away a tear that betrayed the depth 
 and earnestness of his feelings. 
 
 " Come, Jennie father will not see us," said Carrie, 
 gently pulling her within the door, " he gets so absorbed !" 
 
 As Jennie entered the room she raised her eyes to the 
 place where Mr. Halberg stood. That moment the sun 
 light came through the windows, casting a bright gleam 
 upon the beautiful portrait, and, stretching out her arms 
 toward it, the young girl faintly cried, "My own blessed 
 mother !" and sunk senseless to the floor. 
 
 In one moment Mr. Halberg was beside her, and raising 
 her gently he placed her upon the bed, and with a face as 
 colorless and rigid as her own, awaited her return to con 
 sciousness, applying the proper restoratives with a calm 
 and skillful hand. Carrie had loosened her dress, and as 
 she did so, a miniature fell upon the bed. Her father 
 looked eagerly upon it, and with tremulous fingers pressed 
 a spring upon the back. It was indeed his sister's likeness, 
 placed beyond dispute by the convincing inscription, " Jane 
 Halberg, to her beloved daughter, Jennie Grig !" 
 
 This, then, was the child of that precious one who had
 
 94 JENNIE GKIG. 
 
 roamed with him through the sunny paths of infancy and 
 youth, but whose maturer years were overshadowed by 
 adversity and gloom ! God had sent a pitying heart to 
 her in the hour of her saddest need, and had gently led 
 her back to the home whence her mother had been cruelly 
 banished ; that mother He had received into more beau 
 teous mansions, but the child was left, to fulfill a noble and 
 glorious mission among those who had hitherto deemed 
 her as helpless in the grave ! Strangers had proved better 
 than those of her own household to the outcast and or 
 phan, and had nurtured and cared for her while they were 
 contenting themselves with the report that she had gone 
 where no earthly care avails. Only the evening before 
 had she sat in the midst of her relatives, with a sad feeling 
 of isolation now they were gathered about her with 
 evidences of an awakening love and tenderness. It was 
 pleasant to shut her eyes and open them again upon so 
 glad a revelation ! So thought Jennie as she gazed upon 
 her new-found connections, who crowded around with 
 exclamations of surprise and affection. Carrie, then, was 
 her own cousin ! and the great heart against which she 
 was so fondly pressed was warm with kindred blood? 
 Grandpa, too, had fondled and caressed her idolized 
 mother, and even his wandering faculties had detected 
 her lineage, so that he had clung to her for some better 
 reason than an impulsive and wayward fancy! 
 
 "Speak not now, my darling," said Mr. Halberg, as 
 Jennie made an effort to say something to him, " but put
 
 J E X N I E G K I G . 95 
 
 your anns around my neck, and let me feel by this mute 
 expression that the past is forgiven ; I am not yet able to 
 bear one word from the child of my deserted sister." 
 
 The young girl's lips were still parted, but the loving 
 arms twined closely around her uncle, and although no 
 verbal absolution came, he felt that ' the past would never 
 again haunt him with its spectral figure, but that his sis 
 ter's blessing would come to him through the child who 
 now lay so fondly upon his bosom.
 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 THREE more years had mingled with, the past, and yet 
 Mrs. Dunmore and Jennie, who had now developed into a 
 mature and perfect beauty, lingered in the vicinity of the 
 Halbergs. Not that they had any idea of sundering the 
 ties that so closely united them, or of claiming a place for 
 the orphan in the home of her newly-found kindred, but 
 the old man clung with such touching fondness to his be 
 loved grandchild, and grew so frantic if she left him, even 
 for a few days, that it seemed a sacred duty to give them 
 selves up to his few remaining years ; and as from month 
 to month they perceived a manifest dawning of light up 
 on his bewildered intellect, it became rather a pleasure 
 than a sacrifice to forego all those amusements and comforts 
 that interfered with his peculiar fancies or desires. Mrs. 
 Ilalberg would remonstrate, and Ellen would sneer, as the 
 young girl denied herself the companionship of her youth 
 ful associates in order to be with and cheer her aged rela 
 tive; but Jennie would place her hand gently upon his 
 silvery head, and say, in her quiet, subduing way, "It will 
 not be very long, dear auntie !"
 
 JENNIE GKIG. 97 
 
 Nor was it very long, for every day the tottering knees 
 grew more and more feeble, until at length the old seat 
 in the garden was altogether abandoned for the pleasant 
 room ; and there, by the window, in the warm sunlight, 
 would the shadow of a majestic being crouch, shivering 
 through the summer days, while a soft and low voice 
 read and chatted away the otherwise weary hours. 
 
 But the old figure stays not long in the sunlight, for the 
 messengers have come for'him, and the hour of his depart 
 ure is near, and prostrate upon his bed he awaiteth the 
 final summons. It was Jennie's sixteenth autumn, and as 
 she sat beside her grandfather's couch with his shriveled 
 fingers in her warm clasp, the old man turned his head 
 upon his pillow, and, looking intently upon her, said, " My 
 child, I have been dreaming. I have slept a long, long 
 time ; but I am wide awake now, and I know it all. It has 
 come to me slowly and painfully, and I shall not forget it 
 again." 
 
 " What is it, grandpa ?" said Jennie ; " you are weak 
 and ill now, and must not talk, I am your little nurse you 
 know, and Dr. Wright says ' I must keep you quite still if 
 I would have you get well again.' " 
 
 "Isn't your name Jennie Grig? and is. not that your 
 mother ?" continued her grandfather, rising upon one elbow 
 and pointing to the portrait at the foot of the bed. " You 
 was a young thing when she died, Jennie, and I meant to 
 find you out and bring you home ; but I could do nothing 
 while the strange dream was upon me. It was just as 
 
 5
 
 98 J E > N I E G R I G . 
 
 well, for she brought you to me with her angel hands, and 
 that made the dream pleasant to me ;" and the old man 
 sunk back upon his pillow. He lay quietly for some time, 
 and Jennie thought he was sleeping, but as she motioned 
 Simon to take her place by the bed, and tried gently to 
 relax her hand from that of her grandfather, he tightened 
 the pressure, and spoke again in a feeble tone. " I shall 
 not get well again, Jennie, I 'm going to your mother ; but 
 I can not die yet. Call your uncle to me, and leave us 
 for awhile, I must make it right again." Jennie was more 
 surprised and frightened at her grandfather's calm and 
 rational manner than she would have been by any 
 strange or frenzied actions ; but she had heard that 
 reason often wholly resumes its throne as the hour of 
 dissolution approaches, and, thinking that life might be 
 fast ebbing, she hastened to summon her uncle, who was 
 soon in his father's presence. 
 
 His heart leaped for joy as soon as he saw that the old 
 gentleman was sufficiently sane to alter his will, which had 
 been made in a moment of passion, and had cut off the 
 inheritance from his daughter ; and both seemed relieved 
 of a sore burden when the papers were re-executed and the 
 child was made sure of her rightful portion. 
 
 Her grandfather tremulously affixed his signature as 
 Jennie returned to him followed by her aunt and cousins. 
 
 A peaceful smile was upon the dying man's face as he 
 looked upon the little group that surrounded him, and
 
 JENNIE GKIG. 99 
 
 said, with a solemn emphasis, " My children, be kind and 
 forgiving forgiving." Then closing his eyes, he mur 
 mured " dear little Jennie ! dear little Jennie !" and slept 
 to awake no more to the pains and ills of life.
 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 HENRY MOORE had been a frequent visitor at Mr. Hal- 
 berg's during Jennie's sojourn there, and so lovely a char 
 acter as hers could not fail to awaken in his bosom a 
 deeper feeling toward her than that of friendship ; yet so 
 calmly had the time glided away that they had spent to 
 gether, and so far from his mind had been the idea of a 
 separation, that he was scarcely aware of the nature of his 
 emotions until she announced to him her approaching 
 departure from her uncle's. 
 
 They were standing together in a little summer-house in 
 the garden, a few weeks after the old man's death, and 
 Carrie was with them, when Jennie looked sadly out upon 
 
 the old seat that had been left vacant beneath the trees, 
 
 1 ., -j 
 and said : 
 
 " Don't let them remove that, when I am away, Carrie, 
 darling. You know it is all that restored to me my 
 relatives." 
 
 " Are you going to leave , Jennie ?" said Henry, 
 
 with a sudden start which made both the girls gaze eagerly 
 at him. Jennie did not perceive the deep flush that over 
 spread his face ; but Carrie observed it, yet thinking it
 
 JENNIE GEIG. 101 
 
 better to appear as if she had noticed nothing unusual, she 
 picked an autumn bud, that had obtruded itself within the 
 trellised window, and quietly handing it to him, said, 
 
 " Every thing that we love seems to be going from us at 
 this dreary season, Henry. Even that last bud would have 
 faded from me with the next few chilly hours. Perhaps 
 it is well," she continued, " that we can not have the good 
 and the beautiful always around us, we might forget our 
 unfading inheritance !" 
 
 Henry did not answer, for he could not trust himself to 
 speak just then ; but Jennie turned to the window that 
 overlooked the village churchyard where her grandfather's 
 grave was made, and repeated, in a low voice, that beauti 
 ful hymn of Mrs. Heman's, "Passing Away." As she 
 came to the verse, 
 
 " Friends I friends I oh, shall we meet 
 In a land of purer day, 
 Where lovely things and sweet 
 Pass not away ?" 
 
 her voice faltered, and she did not attempt to finish, but 
 sinking upon a bench near her, she wept unrestrainedly. 
 
 " Quite a tragic scene ! Whose benefit is it to-day, Car 
 rie 1 ?" said Ellen Halberg, who that moment approached 
 the summer-house. 
 
 " No wonder Jennie feels some sorrow at leaving a spot 
 where we have spent so many happy hours," said Carrie, 
 " one must have no heart, to break away from friends with 
 out any manifestation of regret."
 
 102 JENNIE GRIG. 
 
 " Oh ! I can easily conceive of its being a great grief to 
 leave a place where she finds so many attractions as here," 
 said Ellen, looking significantly at Henry, who was men 
 tally contrasting the two girls so nearly allied, yet so un 
 like. 
 
 "Doubtless your cousin has emotions which you can 
 neither understand nor appreciate, Miss Ellen," said he, 
 with somewhat of sarcasm in his tone. " There are minds 
 so constituted, that wherever they dwell they form attach 
 ments which are not easily loosed !" 
 
 " Oh ! I fully sympathize in Jennie's distress," said 
 Ellen, mockingly holding her handkerchief to her eyes. 
 
 Not for worlds would she have committed that one 
 thoughtless act, had she known how contemptible it would 
 make her in the estimation of him whom she most cared 
 to please ! Henry Moore of all others was the object of 
 her especial regard. From their childhood they had been 
 thrown constantly together, and, until the coming of her 
 cousin among them she had appropriated him to herself as 
 a lawful and undisputed right. All the villagers had 
 looked upon their union as a " settled thing," and no doubt 
 Henry would gladly have fulfilled their prophecies if 
 Ellen's maturer years had verified the promise of an earlier 
 age ; but as he saw her give way to petty envies and 
 jealousies, and to an uncontrolled and vindictive temper, 
 he turned from her to the study and contemplation of her 
 sweet and gentle cousin. No wonder he became a wor 
 shiper of so pure an image, rather than pay homage to a
 
 JENNIE GRIG. 103 
 
 distorted object. Jennie meanwhile, was wholly uncon 
 scious of the interest she excited. So completely had her 
 mind been occupied in contributing to her grandfather's 
 comfort, that she sought no other affection, and so long as 
 her friends looked kindly upon her, she was too happy to 
 question their feeling toward her. One only sorrow had 
 she experienced since her restoration to her kindred, and 
 that was in her cousin Ellen's continued ill-will and hatred 
 toward her. Perhaps she might have succeeded in win 
 ning her to an opposite feeling, by the little acts of 
 courtesy and love so constantly shown, if the demon 
 jealousy had not insinuated itself into Ellen's bosom. 
 
 Was it a crime to beget in another a love so deep and 
 holy, when she herself was free from all design, and even 
 unsuspicious that she was regarded with more warmth 
 than were her cousins ? So Ellen must have thought, or 
 she would not have taken every opportunity to thwart and 
 tease her orphan relative, and to detract from her merit 
 when in the presence of her friends. 
 
 On this day especially she seemed to feel a peculiar 
 malice and spite toward her. She had seen herself unob 
 served the emotion of Henry when Jennie's departure 
 was spoken of, and her own heart told her that no light or 
 common feeling produced it. 
 
 As she removed the handkerchief from her face, she 
 perceived that she had gone too far, for even the unre- 
 sentful Jennie, unable to bear the ridicule of her most 
 sacred sentiments, had arisen to go to the house. She did
 
 104 JENSTIE GRIG. 
 
 not escape, however, before Henry had whispered the re 
 quest, that she would go with him to Blinkdale on the 
 morrow. 
 
 " To-morrow is -Sunday," said she, quietly, " and I shell 
 accompany uncle to church." 
 
 "Well, the next day; I will call for you," said Henry. 
 " You can not refuse to take one last walk with me ?" 
 
 "I have no disposition to refuse," replied Jennie, as she 
 turned slowly and sadly from the spot. 
 
 "Ellen, how could you!" said Carrie with flashing eyes, 
 " so short a time as Jennie is to be with us, and yet you 
 make her miserable ?" 
 
 " She shall not come between me and happiness with her 
 soft and hypocritical ways !" said Ellen, snapping off the 
 leaves of a twig near her, and looking upon the retreating 
 figures of her sister and cousin, who were going up the 
 avenue. Then turning to a point where she could see in 
 the distance the dim form of Henry Moore, she took the 
 seat that her cousin had vacated, and gave vent to a keener 
 anguish, but how different !
 
 CHAPTER XXVI, 
 
 " COME, girls," said Mr. Halberg, as the young ladies 
 descended from their rooms equipped for church, " the bell 
 has been tolling for some time, I fear we shall be late. 
 Where 's Ellen ?" he continued, casting his eyes over the 
 group and missing his eldest daughter. 
 
 " She is not well to-day, papa, and prefers remaining at 
 home with mother," said Carrie. " Nothing serious," added 
 she, observing her father's anxious and troubled look. 
 " She said she would try to sleep, and perhaps that would 
 banish her head-ache so that she would be able to go with 
 us this afternoon ;" and the party left the house, and calling 
 for Mrs. Dunmore and Eosalie, they all proceeded to the 
 church. 
 
 The walk was rural and quiet, through green lanes that 
 were seldom disturbed except when the house of God was 
 open. A little footpath was worn upon the verdant turf, 
 and the green was unpressed elsewhere, save where some 
 passive burden was silently borne to its lowly bed ; there 
 the somber wheels crushed down the blades that lifted up 
 their heads to the glad sunlight, as if it were wrong to live 
 and grow on while death was moving over them. 
 
 5*
 
 106 JEXNIE GKJG. 
 
 There were recent traces upon the grass that recalled to 
 every mind the venerable and stricken old man who was 
 now resting so peacefully beneath the church's shadow, and 
 as Jennie's eye perceived them, she leaned heavily upon 
 her uncle's arm and sighed. 
 
 " My darling," said he, in a low and gentle voice, " we 
 shall miss you very much more than I can tell ! Your 
 love and care for your poor grandfather, notwithstanding 
 all the past, have endeared you more and more to my 
 heart, so that it is a bitter trial to think of parting from 
 you, and one which I should strive to avert, were it not 
 that too much of your young life has been given up to se 
 clusion when you might have been deriving both happiness 
 and profit in the world. Your self-denial, dear child, will 
 be rewarded, if it is not already giving you a rich harvest 
 of peaceful and self-approving thoughts!" Jennie could 
 not reply, even had she desired, as they were at the church 
 door, and her uncle was accosted by the senior warden : 
 
 " We have a stranger to preach for us to-day, sir," said 
 Mr. Brown, after the accustomed salutations had passed be 
 tween them. 
 
 " All ! where is our own rector ?" asked Mr. Halberg. 
 
 " I suppose he is supplying this young minister's pulpit," 
 
 returned the warden. " It is seldom that we have an ex- 
 
 
 change, and they say that this stranger is uncommonly 
 
 eloquent." 
 
 " We shall have an opportunity to judge for ourselves," 
 said Mr. Halberg, as he turned from his friend and entered 

 
 JENNIE GRIG. lO 
 
 the church with his niece. The service commenced, and 
 as the rich deep tones of the minister fell upon Jennie's 
 ear, there rushed upon her mind a tide of joyous memories 
 that transported her to a sunny home amid the mountains, 
 and a little tomb, and a quiet avenue, and a bench beneath 
 the old maples, where she used to sit and listen to a calm 
 and gentle voice that seemed to reach her even now ; and 
 then her thoughts came back to her hallowed employment, 
 and as she raised her eyes to be sure that it was not all a 
 dream, they fell, not upon a strange minister, but upon the 
 same kind friend who had beguiled her childhood's hours. 
 
 How many years had passed since she had roamed with 
 him among the hills, not a gay and sportive child, as one 
 who had known nothing of trouble or poverty ; but a young 
 being whose gleesomeness had been crowded down by pre 
 mature cares and sorrows, so that it seldom gushed out as 
 a little child's mirth should always do. Will he recognize 
 her now ? She must be so changed ! She would scarcely 
 know him but for the voice, and the broad pale forehead 
 that seems to have been expanding all these many years, so 
 wide and high does it appear. 
 
 He does not see her, he is all absorbed in the solemn 
 worship, as she too should be now he is in the pulpit, 
 and as he glances around upon the congregation, his eyes 
 meet the earnest soul that once beamed upon him in his 
 own parish church. 
 
 There is no mistaking it. For many a weary hour has it 
 cheered him in his labors. It was but a child's soul, but it
 
 108 JENNIE GBIG. 
 
 was an eager one, on which the seed fell availingly and 
 now it is a woman's soul, and the good fruit has been 
 nourishing the faint old man who needs it no longer. The 
 minister knows nothing of that, he only sees that it is before 
 him, as desirous as ever of spiritual nourishment, and the 
 people wonder at his zeal and fervor, little thinking of the 
 power there is in a thirsting spirit to awaken the energies 
 of him who dispenseth to them of the waters of life. 
 
 The service is over, and Mrs. Dunmore and Jennie meet 
 their old friend, who scarcely dares even to press the hand 
 of the child he used to caress so fondly. Time and absence 
 strangely change us ! 
 
 "May I see you to-morrow," said he, " before I leave ?" 
 
 " We shall look certainly for you," replied Mrs. Dunmore 
 as they left the vestibule. 
 
 " Pardon me, dear mamma," said Jennie ; but I must 
 leave you, uncle wished me to join him in the church-yard. 
 It may be our last opportunity alone ;" she added as she 
 moved away. 
 
 Mr. Halberg was leaning upon the gate at the entrance 
 of the burial-ground, gazing intently upon the many 
 mounds that filled the spot, and wondering when his own 
 tomb would be pointed out by others, when Jennie lightly 
 touched his hand to remind him of her presence. 
 
 He started, and, opening the gate, they were soon within 
 the sacred inclosure. " You may wonder," said he, " why 
 I choose a place fraught with" so many saddening associa 
 tions for a little quiet conversation ; but it suits my mood,
 
 JENNIE GRIG. 109 
 
 and there are so few who frequent this somber place that 
 we are sure not to be disturbed." 
 
 " The precincts of the dead, dear uncle," said Jennie, " are 
 any thing but gloomy to me ; the lessons of my childhood 
 were too full of solemn realities to foster in me a shrinking 
 from the entrance to a purer and more beauteous existence." 
 
 " It is of your early life I would speak, my child," said 
 Mr. Halberg-, with an effort at composure. " I have never 
 trusted myself to ask of you your history previous to your 
 adoption by Mrs. Dunmore ; but the time has come when 
 I wish to know it, and, however painful the details may be, 
 you must no longer hide them from me." 
 
 " But uncle," replied the niece ; " why not bury the past, 
 and look only to the happy present and the promising 
 future. Is it well to exhume the moldering remains when 
 the sight would bring only suffering !" 
 
 " It is for the moral, Jennie ; your uncle has hitherto 
 been so selfish that he needs awakening by some stirring 
 appeals, and what can be more' sure to arouse him than the 
 recollection of his beloved and only sister's trials !" 
 
 " I feel that I have so little to tell," said Jennie, trying 
 to evade the subject ; " the time spent with you has been 
 so pleasant, that it quite banishes the bitterness of my 
 younger days." 
 
 " And yet," said Mr. Halberg, " there must have been 
 intense anguish on your mother's part, as she felt herself 
 given up by those who should have clung to her, and her 
 very means of subsistence failing her !"
 
 110 JENNIE GKIG. 
 
 "I never heard my mother complain," replied Jennie. 
 " There was one time when our miserable room was quite 
 cheerless and cold, and we knew not where to look for 
 fuel or food, then my poor father seemed almost frantic 
 with grief for my mother and myself ; but I well remem 
 ber her holy smile, as she calmly said, ' My husband, trust 
 in the Lord, and verily thou shalt be fed.' I never met 
 with a firmer confidence in the love and over-ruling provi 
 dence of God than my mother possessed," continued Jennie. 
 " Her example is ever before me, and yet how difficult to 
 attain to !" 
 
 " Were you often in so desperate a condition, my child ]" 
 asked Mr. Halberg; "and did your mother's patience never 
 fail her, so that she would speak accusingly of her rela 
 tives ?" 
 
 " There was seldom a day," replied Jennie, " after my 
 father's illness, that we knew how to provide the neces 
 saries of life ; and the only time I ever surprised my 
 mother in an outburst of sorrow was when I took my 
 broom for the first time, and went out to sweep the cross 
 ings. That day she called me to her, and tying back my 
 curls, so that none of them could be seen beneath my 
 hood, she clasped me convulsively to her, and wept until 
 I ran away to escape the agony." 
 
 " Were you not afraid in the crowded streets ?" in 
 quired the uncle, as Jennie paused. 
 
 " Oh, yes ! very often, dear uncle that is, of the ugly 
 wheels ; but there seemed a guardian presence around me
 
 JENNIE GRIG. Ill 
 
 and few 'ever spoke rudely to me ; and I was never injured, 
 excepting on that blessed night when God's time had come 
 to help us through my physical hurt. Don't let us think 
 any more about it," continued she, looking up at her uncle, 
 and perceiving how deeply he was moved ; " it was all 
 right, and if it had not happened we might have been 
 wicked and thoughtless instead of feeling that our heavenly 
 Father's will is always better than our own." 
 
 Mr. Halberg arose and walked around on the other 
 side of the church, and on his return to his niece he said, 
 in a calm yet earnest tone, " My child, you must pray for 
 your uncle his life will be weary indeed without you 1" 
 and pressing her fondly to him as they stood by the old 
 man's grave, he too murmured "Dear little Jennie !" and 
 they left the spot to the breath of the winds and the twit 
 tering of the birds that hopped about upon the willow 
 branches.
 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 MEANTIME Ellen lay upon her couch, tossed with many 
 conflicting emotions. Her better nature reproached her for 
 her injustice and cruelty toward her innocent cousin, and 
 almost persuaded her to cease her persecutions, and even to 
 strive to imitate her winning virtues ; but the remembrance 
 of the scene in the summer-house, and of Henry's con 
 temptuous look as he left her, without even a parting 
 salutation, awakened the bitter thought that she had fallen 
 in his estimation, perhaps beyond the power of retrieval, 
 and she resolved to keep up the semblance of a pride and 
 indifference which she was far from feeling. For her 
 cousin's opinion she little cared, nor was she influenced 
 by the thought of an invisible yet heart-searching eye. 
 No wonder, then, that she clung to her perverseness, and 
 moved about on her restless pillow with no sweet or re 
 freshing sleep to quiet the throbbings of her heavy brow. 
 
 The noonday sun was streaming through her window 
 making the autumnal air seem warm and cheery, when a 
 gentle rap was heard at her door, and her cousin entered. 
 Her countenance was serene and peaceful, and her 
 soothing and mild, as she said,
 
 JENNIE GRIG. 113 
 
 " I have come to bathe your head, dear Nellie, Carrie 
 told me you were ill, and I could not feel easy nor happy 
 until I came to you." 
 
 " I am better alone," said Ellen, with a repelling motion 
 of the hand. If I need any thing, I will ring for Meggie ; 
 she is quite accustomed to my headaches." 
 
 " But, Nellie," said her cousin 1 , in a beseeching tone, 
 " something in your manner tells me that you do not love me, 
 and yet I am not conscious that I have offended yon. I can 
 
 not go from , without being at peace with everybody. 
 
 The sermon was so full of mercy and kindness this morning !" 
 
 " I do not feel like hearing a sermon to-day," said Ellen, 
 " and you will oblige me, Jennie, if you will leave me to 
 myself, it is decidedly the best way to relieve me." 
 
 Jennie said no more ; but arranging her cousin's shawl 
 closer about her, and darkening the room, she placed the 
 cooling liquid ; which she had prepared, near the bed, and 
 softly left the room. There was a slight shadow upon 
 her brow as she entered her uncle's study, but it was ban 
 ished by his welcome kiss. Her aunt and two cousins sat 
 in a bay-window facing the south. Here they had always 
 assembled on Sundays, until there came to be a sort of 
 consecrated air about that quiet room, and something hal 
 lowed in the lovely view seen from the window. 
 
 " Here is your nook, Jennie, we have been expecting you 
 for some time !" said Carrie, " there '11 be such a sad 
 vacancy next Sunday ! I don't believe I shall love this 
 room any more after you are gone, dear cousin !"
 
 114 JENNIE GKIG. 
 
 " I am glad if my presence makes it happier to you, 
 Carrie," replied Jennie ; " but you forget that uncle, and 
 aunt, and Mary, and Ellen will be left to you besides the 
 pleasant associations that cluster about all these familiar 
 objects, while I shall be deprived of every thing but dear 
 mamma," 
 
 u But every body will -love you, Jennie," said Mary, "and 
 you have the power to draw around you whoever you 
 wish, so that your life will be sure to be sunny wherever 
 you go." 
 
 " Not every body, Mary," said Jennie, looking thought 
 fully upon the glorious view that was spread out before 
 them, " if so, my heart would feel no weight upon it to 
 day. It is not well," she continued, " to have too much 
 sunshine; else the storms would never be permitted to 
 come ; I don't believe we should truly appreciate and love 
 this bright landscape if the shadows were not often flitting 
 over it, thus making the glory more apparent!" 
 
 " You are right my child," said Mr. Halberg, " the try 
 ing dispensations of our life are wisely ordered, and who 
 of us would dare to wish it otherwise !" 
 
 " And yet it seems," said Mary, " as if sorrow never 
 came to some people, they glide through the world so un 
 ruffled and cheerful !" 
 
 " How little can we judge !" replied her father. " Every 
 heart knoweth its own bitterness, and the outer surface is 
 not always the index to the inner emotions or passions." 
 
 "Do you think, dear uncle," said Jennie, "that one can
 
 JENNIE GRIG. 115 
 
 ever learn so to bear the ills of his lot, as always to present 
 a cheerful and happy exterior to the world ?" 
 
 " Not always, my child," said her uncle, " there is often 
 a weakness of the flesh, when the spirit without its depress 
 ing influence, would be strong to endure ; yet we may cul 
 tivate such a feeling of confidence in the will of God as 
 never to murmur at His decrees, and even to welcome His 
 chastisements, .as blessings in disguise." 
 " That seems so difficult," said Carrie, " I am afraid I 
 could never learn to welcome a sorrow." 
 
 " Not simply as a sorrow, my dear child," returned Mr. 
 Halberg ; " but as a means to a future good which could 
 not be attained without it ; there is a great deal that is 
 hard for our sinful natures to comprehend ; but there are 
 spiritual aids of which we may all avail ourselves. Do not 
 let us slight them, my dear children," continued he, rising 
 from his seat, and gathering the three in one embrace as 
 they stood by the window. The golden light was sprinkled 
 upon the landscape, and the whole face of nature seemed 
 to glow with an unusual radiance, as that little band of 
 loving hearts beat in such grateful and perfect unison. 
 Yet was there a sigh in the midst of it all, for the absent 
 and sinning one: 
 
 "Worlds like to this 
 Mingle sorrow and bliss.
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 MRS. DUKMOEE and Jennie were busy in talking over 
 the "past, and forming plans for the future, when Mr. Cot- 
 bert was announced. 
 
 " I trust you will excuse my early call," said he, as they 
 arose to greet him. " I have to leave the village at noon, 
 which is my only apology for intruding upon your morning 
 hours." 
 
 "We are always at home to our old and valued friends," 
 replied Mrs. Dunmore. " I hope our long separation will 
 not make us strangers to each other." 
 
 " Miss Jennie reminds me that a long interval has come 
 between us," said the clergyman, glancing at the graceful 
 
 
 
 and womanly figure before him ; " I have been accustomed 
 to think of her as the child of my pleasant rambles, so that 
 I am scarcely prepared to meet her in another form." 
 
 Jennie had received him with that timid cordiality so 
 common to early womanhood, a kind of shrinking from the 
 advances of a new and not wholly defined stage of being, 
 and, as he alluded to the days of her childhood and the 
 hours spent together in his hill-girt home, a slight blush 
 tinged her face, and she said, "the long interval has
 
 JENNIE GKIG. 117 
 
 changed you too, Mr. Colbert, so that there needed early 
 memories to aid me in recognizing you." 
 
 " Time has dealt very differently with us," replied her 
 friend, as the mirror opposite enabled him to contrast his 
 sunken and pallid features with the round and healthful 
 face of the lovely girl. " There are many things, however, 
 that encourage me in the hope that we are none the less 
 friends than formerly, and that we still have the one great 
 sympathy in common;" added he, recalling her devout 
 manner in church the day before. 
 
 " Are you not well, Mr. Colbert," asked Mrs. Dunmore ; 
 " or do you trespass upon the hours necessary to your re 
 pose and recreation that you are so much thinner and paler 
 than you used to be ? I fear I must usurp your prerogative 
 and turn preacher if you are really destroying your health 
 by too great devotion to your duties." 
 
 " I have been quite a sufferer for the last few years, my 
 dear madam," returned the minister ; " but not from the 
 cause you assign." 
 
 " Perhaps you need change," said the widow ; " it is not 
 well to confine one's self too constantly to one locality." 
 
 "I feel confident it is so," said Mr. Colbert, "since 
 even so short a journey revives me materially; but how 
 comes it," he asked, " that you are here, and apparently 
 settled ?" 
 
 " Jennie must explain that to you," replied Mrs. Dun- 
 more, " as it was through her that our present arrangements 
 were made."
 
 118 JENNIE GRIG. 
 
 " Ah ! do you find a rural life so much more congenial 
 than your city home that you have adopted it altogether?" 
 said Mr. Colbert, addressing Jennie. 
 
 " It is not that," she replied, " the city was the scene of 
 my happiest, as well as my saddest days, and we are soon 
 to return to it ; but this village is the home of my nearest 
 relatives, who were restored to me a few years since through 
 a singular Providence, and my grandfather's infirmities 
 rendered it expedient that we should remain here until 
 now." 
 
 Mrs. Dunmore seeing the tears that dropped upon her 
 child's work at mention of her grandfather, took Mr. Col 
 bert aside, and gave him a brief history of all that had oc 
 curred during the years of their severance, and when she had 
 finished her relation of the old man's derangement, and of 
 Jennie's devotion and love toward him, the minister arose, 
 and walked backward and forward in the room with an ab 
 sorbed and meditative air, and then stopping so suddenly 
 before the young girl as to startle her, he said abruptly : 
 " Will you give me one moment in the garden ? I have a 
 single word to say to you alone." Jennie laid aside her 
 work, and as they stepped from the colonnade into the gar 
 den of their lodgings, she opened an adjoining wicket that 
 led to her uncle's grounds, and, motioning Mr. Colbert to 
 follow, she passed through and entered the little summer- 
 house. 
 
 " Are we quite free from intrusion ?" asked her compan 
 ion, as she seated herself upon a bench near the window.
 
 JENNIE GKIG. 119 
 
 " I believe I reign sole monarcli of this sequestered nook 
 at this season," replied Jennie. " My cousins care little for 
 such solitude now that the breeze is chilly and the flowers 
 have vanished." 
 
 " Jennie," said her friend, leaning against a pillow as if 
 for support, " if you knew that all my suffering for the last 
 few years had been for you, that this change, and palor, 
 and thinness, were all occasioned by the fear that the time 
 might never come when I could tell you that I love you, 
 you would pardon such a hasty declaration of my feelings 
 toward you. You were but a child when first we met," he 
 continued, placing his hand upon her head as he had then 
 been wont to do, " but how closely your young being had 
 woven itself with mine my subsequent weary life will 
 prove. Were you ever sundered from the object you had 
 learned to prize most on earth, Jennie ?" said he, as the 
 drooping lashes were lifted, and the pensive, earnest eyes 
 met his inquiring gaze, " and was there utter desolation ? 
 Then do you appreciate fully all that I would say to you 
 of my own sorrow when bereft of the only mortal whom 
 my heart had ever cared to cherish. I ask you not to bind 
 yourself to me in an irrevocable vow, but to think of me 
 as your truest friend until you have seen more of the world 
 and of men. If then you can turn away from all to the 
 heart that will never beat for another, and call me hus 
 band, God be praised my only earthly prayer will be 
 answered."
 
 120 JENNIE GEIG. 
 
 Not another word was spoken, but silently as they came 
 so they went back, through the little wicket into the pres 
 ence of Mrs. Dunmore, and Mr. Colbert made his adieus 
 and departed but alas for Henry Moore !
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 THE afternoon was charming one of those mellow, 
 hazy atmospheres that make the autumnal season so pen 
 sive and dreamy, and Jennie felt its influence as she and 
 Henry Moore sought the bright path to Blinkdale. Not 
 richer nor more sparkling could the emerald, and the to 
 paz, and the amethyst, and the sardius be, in their gay and 
 beauteous variety, than were the changing leaflets in the 
 sun's burnishing rays. The birds were singing merrily 
 amid the brilliant foliage, and the fresh winds played 
 among the branches, tossing them to and fro, and blend 
 ing the bright and the somber in one glorious commingling. 
 A streamlet crossed their pathway, moving placidly and 
 gently along, but as they followed its windings, gurgling 
 and foaming over the rocky obstructions, and almost 
 drowning their voices in its noisy course. " How beauti 
 ful !" exclaimed Jennie, seating herself upon a mossy stone 
 on the river's bank, and looking to her companion for sym 
 pathy in her enthusiastic delight. 
 
 " I would rather look on a sweet face," replied Hemy, as 
 his eloquent eyes met hers. Blushing deeply, Jennie 
 turned away and remained thoughtful and still, listening 
 
 6
 
 122 JENNIE GKIG. 
 
 to the din of the waters and the wail of the autumn winds 
 as they swept through the tree-tops, and her quiet re very 
 brought the old expression of early maturity and care, for 
 her thoughts had been roving all along her past life, and 
 had left her amid her childhood's sorrows in the narrow 
 dreary room, with the weary and forsaken ones, and none 
 else to love and cheer her. 
 
 "Jennie," said her companion, noticing the bitterness 
 that passed over her young face, and wishing to dissipate 
 any mournful musings, " do you know why I asked you to 
 come alone with me to Blinkdale to-day ?" 
 
 Aroused thus suddenly, the young girl started from her 
 lowly seat, and patting its mossy side with her foot, replied, 
 "How should I, Henry, unless it be that it is always 
 pleasanter to have one companion who can understand 
 and appreciate your love of nature, than to be surrounded 
 in your walks by many who care only for merriment and 
 chatting. I could spend the whole day in these solemn old 
 woods with nothing to amuse me but my own thoughts." 
 
 " And yet, I doubt if your pensive musings would be 
 profitable to you," said her companion ; " there is some 
 thing dirge-like in the music of nature that begets a 
 morbid sort of feeling in a mind like yours, Jennie, and too 
 much of such solitude would injure you. Pardon me," con 
 tinued he, as he caught her half comic inquisitive gaze ; "but 
 your character has been my study for a long, long time." 
 
 " Not more profitable to you than my solitary reveries, I 
 fancy," said Jennie.
 
 JENNIE GKIG. 123 
 
 "But more delightful to ine than any study," replied 
 Henry, and seating her again upon the bank near him, he 
 told her all how he had watched her growing graces 
 both of heart and mind, since the first time they had met 
 beneath her grandfather's porch ; how he had striven in 
 his profession for her sake ; how he had suffered his whole 
 soul to go out toward her in a hallowed and sincere affec 
 tion ; and how cold, and dead, and sad his life must be if 
 she reciprocated not his tenderness ; and then, with a 
 flushed and anxious face, he awaited her answer. 
 
 Oh ! how weary was the walk home ! The woods were 
 dark and dreary, and the steps of the young man heavy 
 and listless, as he sauntered on beside his silent and suffering 
 companion. Life had gained a new and somber aspect to 
 her too, since she was the cause of a crushing sorrow to 
 one who had lavished upon her his heart's breath. Why 
 could he not be content with the sisterly regard she had 
 ever felt toward him ? It is so terrible to see him in his 
 manly grief, and to feel that she may avert it ! And yet, 
 how can it be otherwise, since there is ever before her a 
 pale face, with its spiritual eyes fixed on her soul calling 
 forth all that she has to bestow, ,
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 STANDING alone that evening in the bay-window of her 
 uncle's study, Jennie gazed out upon the peaceful moonlit 
 scene, trying to derive from it a tranquillity which the day's 
 events had banished, when a loving arm was wound about 
 her, and a low voice said, "May I share your thoughts 
 this evening, my child ?" 
 
 " It is you, is it, uncle !" said Jennie ; " your step was so 
 ghost-like that I did not hear you enter." 
 
 "I came very softly that I might not disturb you," 
 replied Mr. Halberg ; " you seem quite absorbed." 
 
 " And so I was, dear uncle, endeavoring to gather some 
 what of serenity from the quiet and beauty of nature." 
 
 "What disturbs you to-night, my darling 1 ?" said her 
 luncle, looking fondly upon the sweet face that was up 
 turned to his, and wishing that his own soul could look 
 forth as calm and pure in its simple truthfulness as that 
 young and guileless one's. "There is naught but sin that 
 should mar our peace, and I trust you are constant in your 
 efforts to be clean from that." 
 
 " Is it not a source of sorrow, dear uncle, to occasion 
 grief to others, even though the infliction involves no sinful
 
 JENNIE GRIG. 125 
 
 motive ?" said Jennie, with suffused eyes, and a tremor in 
 her voice. 
 
 " Truly so," replied Mr. Halberg, instantly conjecturing 
 the cause of his niece's self-reproach ; " but the ills that we 
 are unable to avoid we should not dwell upon. If a person 
 seeks that which we know we can not conscientiously 
 bestow, it is a sacred duty to refuse it him, even though we 
 are sensible that it will give much pain, and when the 
 duty is performed in a Christian manner it will leave no 
 lasting sting, but will itself prove a healing balm to the 
 wounded one." 
 
 " You comfort me much, dear uncle" said Jennie ; " I 
 have been so sadly depressed this evening that the quiet 
 and solitude even were overpowering, and your presence is 
 so soothing and cheering. It will be a great loss to me to 
 be deprived of so precious a guide and a great cross too !" 
 she added as her uncle bent to kiss her brow. 
 
 " We are all called upon to bear our cross in this life, 
 dear child," said Mr. Halberg. " This will be a heavy one 
 to your old uncle, but it is for your good, and he therefore 
 cheerfully submits to it. I am not afraid to confide you to 
 One who will guide you unto a perfect rest and peace. 
 Come in, my children," said he, as a tap announced his 
 three daughters. "Where's mother? we must have our 
 circle complete to-night since Jennie will leave a vacant 
 space on the morrow," he added with some emotion. 
 
 " Here I am," replied Mrs. Halberg, hastening toward 
 them from an adjoining apartment; "it is really very
 
 JENNIE GRIG. 
 
 delightful to have you all gathered once more about me !" 
 Nellie has been a sad truant of late, and Rosalie has quite 
 monopolized the other girls." 
 
 " I did not flatter myself that I should be missed," said 
 Ellen ; " and as for the girls, Mr. Moore's house seems quite 
 as attractive as their own home to them." 
 
 " His is indeed a complete and charming household ! 
 my daughter," said her father ; " such perfect unison and 
 harmony reigns among its members. I know of no fitter 
 examples for my children, and am only too happy that they 
 are on such an intimate footing there." 
 
 " It would be more agreeable to some, perhaps, if the 
 connection were still nearer," answered Ellen, with an un 
 mistakable glance at her cousin, whose increasing color 
 showed that she applied her meaning. This then solved 
 the mystery. Had she penetrated her cousin Ellen's feel 
 ings before, how much hatred, and malice, and spite, might 
 she not have averted.
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 " MAY I come in, Nellie ?" said Jennie, as her cousin 
 answered her gentle rap by half-opening the door and peep 
 ing out to see who the intruder was at that late hour. 
 "I have a great deal to say to you,"* continued she, as 
 Ellen gave her an ungracious permission to enter. 
 
 " Well you must hurry and say it, Jennie, for I am un 
 commonly sleepy, and feel a stronger inclination for my 
 bed at present than for any communications," replied 
 Ellen, throwing herself languidly down, and motioning her 
 cousin to be seated. 
 
 " Nellie," said Jennie, placing her small white hand upon 
 the one that hung over the arm of the sofa, " to-morrow 
 we part, and God only knows when and where we may 
 meet again. Be that as it may, to-night we have the op 
 portunity to understand and love each other, another even 
 ing's shadows may stand between our hearts if they are 
 not earlier united. You think that I love Henry Moore ; 
 will it make you happy to know that he will never be 
 aught to me but a kind and affectionate brother, and that 
 the most sacred place in my heart is reserved for another 
 occupant ?"
 
 128 JENNIE GKIG. 
 
 Quite ashamed and almost like a guilty thing, Ellen 
 sat, while the color rushed over neck and face, mounting 
 even to the brow, and deepening as it rose until it seemed 
 too painful to endure, then rising from her seat, and open 
 ing the window upon the balcony she stepped forth into 
 the night air, and kneeling by the balustrade, remained, 
 motionless as a statue until a soft kiss upon her forehead 
 assured her that she was forgiven. The stars looked down 
 with a brighter twinkle, and the autumn wail grew into a 
 sweet harmony as the two reconciled cousins stood with 
 clasped hands gazing upward.
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 " GOOD-BY, uncle ; good-by auntie ; good-by girls," 
 said Jennie, as she was pressed to the bosom of her rela 
 tives at the parting hour. " Simon, don't forget the dear 
 old seat," continued she, putting a coin in his hand, and 
 turning tearfully toward the carriage where Mrs. Dunmore 
 was awaiting her, and then springing back to give one 
 more kiss to her uncle, and to whisper something in Car 
 rie's ear that sent the warm blood quickly to her face. 
 
 Henry and Rosalie were there to bid her adieu, and 
 golden-curled Minnie, too, with a bunch of autumn leaves 
 in her little hand, which she had gathered on the way as a 
 parting gift, and which she now held up beseechingly to 
 Jennie, who stooped to embrace her, and taking the 
 withered tokens, hastened to hide her emotion in the 
 furthest recess of the carriage that bore her away from the 
 home of her kindred. It seemed to those who watched 
 the receding travelers, as if a blight had fallen upon their 
 pleasant things ; as if the winter had suddenly come and 
 frozen up all the springs of pleasure and delight, for that 
 young girl's presence, though unobtrusive in its influence, 
 had diffused warmth and gladness all about her, and now 
 
 6*
 
 130 JENNIE GBIG. 
 
 \ 
 
 that she was gone the warmth and gladness had also de 
 parted, and a mournful group turned back into the house 
 with a mournful feeling, almost as if the grave had swallowed 
 up one of its inmates. Old Simon betook himself to the 
 seat beneath the trees, and with his knees crossed, and a 
 dolorous motion of his gray head, he muttered, 
 
 " I thought it could n't be all in the name ! the likeness 
 was arnazin' ! amazin' !" And forth from the stilly air 
 seemed to come to the good old butler's ear, " Dear little 
 Jennie ! dear little Jennie !"
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 Six years have passed, and beneath the old maples sits 
 Nurse Nannie, wrinkled and bent, with a wee babe upon 
 her lap, while a girl of two years and a half plays with her 
 doll upon the lawn, now and then looking up to catch 
 mamma's smile, or to wonder why dear papa looks so grave 
 when Grandmamma Dunmore tells him about the sick man 
 in the cottage at the end of the lane, and his motherless 
 children. And now she spies cousin Henry and Carrie 
 coming from the avenue in the road, and springs to meet 
 little Harry, who takes her hand and marches off with her, 
 saying, he " is n't afwaid of tows," and brandishing a wisp 
 of a stick as if there were a mighty power in it. Sally 
 brings more chairs out upon the green, and the mammas 
 and papas talk busily together, while the little ones run 
 about enjoying their own infantile prattle ; and just as 
 Harry and Jennie are the happiest, with their pinafores 
 full of buttercups and daisies, and their little faces flushed 
 with exercise and joy, nurse comes to take them to the 
 house, for the dew begins to fall. Then Mamma Colbert 
 proposes that all go to spend the evening with Fred Bur 
 ling and Rosalie, who occupy Grandmamma Dunmore's 
 summer home.
 
 132 JENNIE GEIG. 
 
 Thus the days pass until the summer is gone, and the 
 snow comes and drives them all to the city. 
 
 Mamma spends only a month away, for papa can not 
 leave his parish, and she takes them to see Grandpa and 
 Grandma Halberg, and Aunts Ellen and Mary, who pets 
 them very much ; then they go to the great house in the 
 avenue, and every thing is so new and beautiful, that the 
 time goes very pleasantly ; only sometimes as they drive 
 through Broadway, and stop near the crossings, a little 
 ugly-looking creature, with a broom, gets upon the steps of 
 the carriage and asks for pennies, and when Jennie shakes 
 her tiny hand at her, and says "go 'way, bad girl," mamma 
 speaks kindly to her, and puts a great silver bit into the 
 poor girl's hand, and when she has gone, tells Jennie that 
 she must pity and be good to the little street-sweepers, for 
 dear mamma was like that poor girl once. Then Jennie 
 puts up her wee mouth, and says, "No, no, mamma," while 
 she makes an ugly face at the vision of the child with the 
 broom, and revolves in her bewildered mind what dear 
 mamma can mean !
 
 NANNIE BATES, 
 
 THE HUCKSTER'S DAUGHTER.
 
 NANNIE BATES. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 IT was little comfort life had ever brought to her, 
 what with harsh treatment from a cruel father, and the 
 woman's work that came upon her young shoulders, while 
 her mother traveled up and down the streets with her bas 
 ket of small- wares, trying to get the wherewithal to keep 
 soul and body together. The lazy husband droned away 
 the hours in the dram-shops, gulping down the hard earn 
 ings of his busy wife, or he staggered home with his reeling 
 brain, to vent his ill-nature on the little pale thing that 
 kept the house. It was " Nannie, do this," or, " Nannie, 
 do that," or, " Nannie, mind the baby," all the live-long 
 time, when he was sufficiently sober to know what was 
 going on about him ; and if the tired little feet loitered at 
 all at his bidding, a wicked oath or a villainous blow hast 
 ened her weary steps. " What was she born for, any way?" 
 She looked down upon the face of the sleeping babe whose 
 cradle her foot was rocking, but it gave her no satisfactory 
 answer. It was not a bright rosy-cheeked thing such as 
 she met every day just round the corner, where she went
 
 136 NANNIE BATES. 
 
 to the pump for water ! She must have been just so white 
 and sickly, 'for the bit of a looking-glass that she picked up 
 from an old ash-barrel in the street gives her back no round 
 and healthy cheeks, but the reflection of a meager, sad- 
 looking face, that nobody can care to look upon! And 
 they must always be so, both baby and she, for one of her 
 teachers in the Industrial School told her that nothing 
 could be strong and healthy without the sun, and there 
 was never a single ray in that dreary basement. 
 
 Oh ! no, they need n't be weak and sickly ! A thought 
 has occurred to her she wonders why she never had it 
 before ! Perhaps father would n't like it if he should come 
 home and find her away. But love for baby is stronger 
 than fear of father, and so she tidies herself up as well as 
 she can, and wrapping the little one in a piece of an old 
 blanket, takes it out where it is the brightest and sunniest, 
 and there she sits on the broad stone-steps of some great 
 house, watching the merry children who play upon the 
 walk, and wondering if she can ever hope to see dear little 
 Winnie as joyous and happy. 
 
 " Look at that poor girl," said one of the gay children, 
 stopping her hoop and touching her brother upon the back 
 with her stick ; " she 's got a little baby in her arms just 
 as big as sissy has n't she Willie ? And only see what 
 an old lagged blanket it has on ! Have n't you got any 
 nice clothes for the baby ?" said she to the young girl, who 
 had heard her, and was moving off with the wee child 
 hugged closely to her breast " because sissy has a great
 
 NANNIE BATES. 137 
 
 many, and I know mother can spare you one," and with 
 that she ran up the steps, and pulled the bell as hard as 
 she could. 
 
 " Oh ! mamma," said she, all out of breath with haste 
 and excitement, " there 's a little bit of a baby out there, 
 just like my sissy, and it hasn't any thing on its feet, 
 and the old flannel rag can't cover it half over; won't 
 you let me give it that one you put in the mending basket? 
 It is so much bigger and nicer than that !" and the tiny 
 arm was thrown caressingly around the gentle mother's 
 neck, and the little lips were touching her cheek. 
 
 " Blessings on her swate heart !" said Biddy, rising, by 
 her mistress' permission, to get the blanket. " "Tis never 
 the like of ye '11 come to want, so shure as my name 's 
 Biddy Halligan, an' ye so free in your benivolence. But 
 where 's the baby, faith ?" said she, as she went down the 
 steps holding the little girl by the hand. 
 
 " Oh ! Biddy, what shall I do ? she 's gone, and now I 
 can't give her the blanket !" and the disappointed child 
 wiped her eyes upon her pinafore, and stood still upon the 
 walk, while her nurse looked down the length of the street. 
 
 " Maybe that same is she," said Biddy, " with the brown 
 bonnet upon the head, as is going round the corner by the 
 the big grocery." 
 
 " Oh ! yes, that 's she," and little May brightened up, 
 and walked as fast as she* could to overtake the poor -girl. 
 They reached her just as she closed the door of .the base 
 ment after her, and May hung back at first, half frightened
 
 NANNIE BATES. 
 
 as she looked into the dismal place ; but Biddy encouraged 
 her, so that she just ventured within the door, and handed 
 the small parcel; then she would go home, for a vague 
 feeling of evil haunted her timid mind in that dark and 
 lone spot. 
 
 Nannie opened the bundle, and her eyes glistened as she 
 saw the great square of soft flannel with a pretty silken 
 border worked all around it. " They can't be bad people 
 all of them that live in grand houses, as father says," 
 thought she, " or they would n't have sent me this pretty 
 thing!" She is so glad to get home before he comes, 
 for now, perhaps, she can escape a scolding, and, com 
 mon as cross words are to her, she shrinks from them. 
 She will go out every day at this hour when it is pleasant, 
 and then she will not be missed at home. " 'Tis so nice to 
 have that comfortable covering for Winnie, for now she can 
 hide her scanty apparel, and she will look quite respectable 
 and neat;" for Nannie has some idea of neatness, and 
 really tries to better the condition of the family. She 
 learned a great many good ways at the school, and she 
 does not forget them, although she has not been since 
 baby's birth, and they will tell greatly upon the whole of 
 her life. There was a time when she did not care if the 
 floor was all covered with heaps of dirt, and she would go 
 out into the street with the rags flying all about her, and 
 her .hair in masses of thick tangle* , and her face quite black 
 and ugly. Now she scrubs up the room very often, and 
 you never see any of the streamers hanging from her
 
 NANNIE BATES. 139 
 
 garments, for she mends them as well as she can, and she 
 makes free use of the nice water that is a blessing of such 
 magnitude to the poor. Her hair too is always glossy and 
 smooth no matter if she does have to wear a coarse frock, 
 and an old and faded bonnet, they are whole, and that is 
 far better than rags or dirt. She is n't a bit ashamed of 
 them nor of her bare feet, for they are so white that the 
 blue veins are plainly visible, and things are so much 
 better than they used to be. 
 
 "This is a very pleasant morning, what with the nice 
 little girl, and baby's new blanket !" and she went to fold it 
 up and lay it in a safe place for the next day, when a rough 
 hand caught it from her. 
 
 " What have we here ?" said her drunken father ; " em 
 broidered, eh ! that 's good luck, indeed ! I '11 take it, child, 
 it's just the thing, it will bring a good price !" 
 
 " Oh ! don't, please don't sell Winnie's blanket, father !" 
 pleaded Nannie ; " it is all she has that 's decent, and a 
 good little girl broug*ht it on purpose for her, please don't 
 take that, father !" But the man was gone, and while the 
 girl sat sobbing over her loss, he was greedily swallowing 
 its price as he had done that of many a nice article before.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 "MATCHES? shoe-lacings? buttons? only a penny a 
 dozen, ma'am !" and the foot-sore woman presses her face 
 to the basement \vindows, and holds up her wares with 
 a strange pertinacity, even though the mistress of the 
 mansion shakes her head many times, saying, "not to 
 day ;" and turns to discuss some trifling subject as if there 
 were not starvation and misery in the tones that are dying 
 upon her ear. Heart-sick and desponding, the poor woman 
 turns away, and renews her entreaties at the next neigh 
 bor's, perchance to be spurned again and again ; for the 
 cosy tea-hour has arrived, and husband and children are 
 all gathered around the well-spread board, and it is 
 annoying to be disturbed by beggars, now. 
 
 The pleading voice, and scanty raiment, and woe-begone 
 expression, jar sadly upon the glad home-circle that is 
 teeming with content, and plenty, and cheerfulness, and it is 
 easier to send such forlornities off, and trouble yourself no 
 more about them, than to break away from your own 
 beloved and blessed ones to inquire into their condition 
 with a view to comfort and relieve. 
 
 "For the love of heaven will ye buy something, sir,"
 
 NANNIE BATES. 141 
 
 says the half-frantic creature, addressing a benevolent- 
 looking gentleman who had cast a 'pitying glance upon 
 her. The stars are hidden by dense black clouds which 
 every moment threaten to pour out their fury upon the 
 earth, and the quick tread of the people seeking the shelter 
 of their homes awakens the wretched woman to a last 
 effort, and she touches the arm of the stranger in her 
 eagerness to secure his attention. "I have sold nothing 
 this day, sir, and the two children at home waiting for the 
 morsel that I have not to carry them oh ! buy something, 
 sir, and the blessing of the poor be with ye !" 
 
 " Where do you live, my good woman ?" asked the gen 
 tleman, half inclined to doubt her. He has so often been 
 deceived by tales of sorrow and want which had no 
 foundation ; yet there is something in the present case that 
 banishes his suspicions, and he follows her as she designates 
 her abode. She hesitates, as they near the spot, for fear 
 her husband would be at home in one of his abusive 
 moods, for her woman's heart would fain cover up even 
 her bloated and loathsome husband with its loving and 
 forgiving mantle. 
 
 Was it best to tell him, or to persist in her obstinacy, 
 and lose the chance of supplying her children's need ? A 
 mother's affection prevails, and with a sigh, she descends 
 the steps, and opens the door of her miserable dwelling. 
 Her husband has not returned that is well ; but what is 
 the matter with Nannie? Leaning over her cradle and 
 sobbing as if her heart will break, the girl sits, while the
 
 142 NANNIE BATES. 
 
 darkness and want are only made the more visible by a 
 small bit of an offensive tallow candle that is stuck in a 
 potatoe for a candlestick. 
 
 " Is it the child that is sick, my girl, or what has come 
 over ye that ye moan and take on in that manner ?" said 
 the woman, advancing and holding the candle close to the 
 infant's face then perceiving that nothing ailed the babe, 
 and supposing that the father might be the cause of the 
 girl's grief, she said no more about it ; but bade Nannie 
 hand the stool to the gentleman who was standing with his 
 back to the door while the poor woman scrutinized the 
 child. 
 
 " And is this your home ?" asked he, glancing around 
 the damp, unwholesome apartment, and shivering even in 
 the middle of the month of August. " Have you no hus 
 band, and do you depend upon what you sell daily from 
 this basket for your living ?" 
 
 If she told him that she had a husband, he would ques 
 tion her, and find out his degradation ; therefore she said 
 she was a widow, turning around to cross herself as she 
 muttered softly, " the Lord forgive me the lie !" 
 
 " You must be but lately a widow," added he, looking 
 at the tiny baby before him. 
 
 " Faith, sir, ye must pardon me, an' I will tell ye all, 
 since it 's ye would be taking the trouble to inquire of a 
 poor body like me. Jim 's been enticed away by bad com 
 panions until it 's every thing we had has been pawned for 
 spirits, and how could I tell ye 't was my own husband that
 
 -VAX NIK BATES. 143 
 
 was once so good and kind to me, and he not so much to 
 blame as the poor wretches that deal out to him the 
 dreadful stuff!" and the afflicted woman hid her face 
 against the wall and wept for very shame that the stranger 
 should know her husband's folly. She was interrupted in 
 her grief by the object of it, who stumbled into the room, 
 kicking at the cradle-rockers as he came near tripping over 
 them, and doubling up his fists with a show of fight as his 
 eye fell upon the stranger. 
 
 "Is n't it m' own house I 'm in, Molly ?" said he, " and 
 what business have you t' be taking in lodgers, and me the 
 masther here !" and with that he made a dive at the gen 
 tleman, who arose and stepped quietly aside. 
 
 " Oh ! Jim," said the woman, " 'tis a kind friend who is 
 afther helping us, when I could sell nothing the day." 
 
 "Who talks of help? A'nt I able t's'port m'own 
 fam'ly, I 'd like t' know ?" muttered the drunken wretch, as 
 he fell a loathsome heap upon the straw in the corner of 
 the room. 
 
 The stranger gave a compassionate glance at the wife, 
 who seemed ready to sink from mortification and sorrow, 
 and putting some money into her hand for their present 
 necessities, called Nannie to him, and looked steadily into 
 her face one minute, and left without a word. The girl 
 was in his mind, though, as he took the way to his solitary 
 lodgings for Mr. Bond was a bachelor. 
 
 She was not pretty, nor very prepossessing ; but her ex 
 pression showed depth and character, and she was worthy a
 
 144 NANNIE BATES. 
 
 better training. -At any rate she must not be left to the 
 tender mercies of that brutal man. He will help her to 
 make her way in the world, not by a mistaken charity, but 
 by teaching her self-reliance. She must be looked after. 
 If Betty Lathrop had not been taken from him so early in 
 life, there might have been a " Nannie Bond" to care for 
 and teach, and perhaps Providence meant this for his char 
 itable and acceptable labor. And Mr. Bond rubbed his 
 great hands together, and sprang up the stairs to his cham 
 ber with a boyish step and a light heart. He had found 
 something to do.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THERE was a neat carpet upon the floor, and two com- 
 forjable rocking-chairs in the room, one at each window, 
 with nice plump cushions in them, and by a center-table, that 
 had upon it a large family Bible, a copy of " The Pilgrim's 
 Progress," an almanac, and the " Daily Times," was Mr. 
 Bond's easy-chair. Nobody ever occupied that chair but 
 himself, and sometimes a sleek, gray cat, that once belong 
 ed to Betty Lathrop, and would have had a joint owner 
 ship had Providence spared the mistress. Now it was his 
 especial care, and he would sit motionless by the window 
 for hours, rather than disappoint the favored puss of one 
 tittle of her nap. There was a picture of a young woman 
 over the mantle, which Mr. Bond thought a master piece 
 of art, and which was the constant theme of his contempla 
 tion. It had a round, ruddy face, and upon the head was 
 a sort of coiffure which our modern critics might eschew ; 
 but which Mr. Bond believed the very perfection of ele 
 gance. It was composed of loops of muslin disposed on 
 each side over a prolusion of brown curls which distended 
 the head to an enormous width, and upon the top was vis-
 
 146 NANNIE BATES. 
 
 ible a high back-comb which quite " capped the climax." 
 The dress of the lady was black silk, sleeves "a la mouton" 
 and a collar of muslin with a deep frill that reached nearly 
 to the elbows. This was fastened with a yellow glass pin, 
 the gift of Mr. Bond on his promised possession of the fair 
 maiden who was to adorn herself with it. Before this 
 portrait was many a moment spent in vain regrets that it 
 was only the image of that which, but for an inscrutable 
 wisdom, might have been his. A couple of glass lamps, 
 and a thermometer formed the mantle ornaments, and a 
 mailed figure of some Roman general in bronze, and a 
 " Samuel" done in plaster, completed the luxuries of the 
 apartment. 
 
 It was a cosey place to the Bachelor though ! the sun 
 had free access through the curtainless windows, and a 
 merry time of it, it had playing upon the benevolent features 
 of the good man, until many a little freckle stood out, as 
 witness to its audacity. There was not a leaf in his neigh 
 bor's garden just below his windows, that was unfamiliar to 
 him, and the three little girls that came out there to play 
 beneath the trees, were always glad to see the kind face 
 above them, for many a paper of sugar-plums fell from 
 a capacious pocket that emptied itself upon the grass, and 
 many a pleasant word floated downward, to make them 
 happy. Oh ! his was a nature to make a Paradise of any 
 spot ! so full of love toward every living thing ! What if 
 his landlady was fidgety and exacting, .and called after him 
 every time he entered the house, to wipe his feet, and
 
 NANNIE BATES. 147 
 
 when she went to make his bed, would go around shovel 
 ing up the dirt from the carpet muttering all the 
 time about " some people's slovenliness ?" What if his 
 fellow-lodgers always managed to get his seat at table, and 
 to eat up all the toast and muffins, before he was once 
 helped, leaving him only the dry bread with which to satisfy 
 a morning's appetite ? What if the neighbors did torment 
 him by continually stoning his poor cat every time she 
 took a walk in the garden to breathe the fresh air, so that 
 he was obliged to turn sentinel over the animal's pedes 
 trian excursions ? It was n't any thing to grumble about, 
 and so the peaceful man kept a sunny expression and a 
 blessed and good heart, and his oppressors only heaped 
 upon themselves disagreeable traits without moving him to 
 a single murmur. 
 
 Mr. Bond did not seem to think it incumbent upon any 
 body else to be kind, or attentive, or good. He had his 
 own way of living and doing, and it mattered little to him 
 if all the world went in an opposite direction, he kept 
 straight on in his bright and pleasant path, and it brought 
 him abundant joy and blessedness. 
 
 His cosey room was unusually beautiful and attractive 
 as he returned from his visit to the lowly basement, and it 
 was with a feeling of peculiar satisfaction that he seated 
 himself by a window, with his feet on the sill and his arms 
 crossed upon his breast, while he watched the vivid light 
 ning as it glided swiftly about amid the blackened heavens. 
 Oh ! how the rain descended, as if to drown the very earth
 
 148 NANNIE BATES. 
 
 in its pouring fury. No wonder the good man heaved a 
 sigh for the inmates of that dreary room, and fancied him 
 self back in the dismal place, with the cataract of waters 
 rushing down, until baby, and cradle, and stool were all 
 afloat as upon the great deep. He could not bear it any 
 longer, and so he took one of the lamps from the mantle, 
 and struck a light, and lost himself in his newspapers. 

 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 "!T won't .do, it won't do, Nannie," said the poor 
 woman, wildly, as the accumulated drops streamed like 
 a rivulet down the steps of their cellar ; " we must man 
 age to arouse your father, or the morning '11 never see him 
 alive !" and she pushed and shook the inanimate clog that 
 lay in the corner, while the torrent still flowed on, until 
 fear for the child's safety made her quit her efforts with its 
 father, and snatching the infant from the cradle, and bid 
 ding Nannie follow her, she rushed hastily out to seek help 
 in order to remove her miserable husband. Not a creature 
 was stirring, for the bitterness of the storm had driven 
 every breathing thing under shelter. Still undaunted, she 
 moves on, folding her thin and drenched garments around 
 the babe, until a watchman stops her with a rude demand 
 as to what calls her forth in the pitiless night ? She heedi 
 not his roughness, but pulls him by the coat, while h$ 
 vainly endeavors to shake her off, and entreats him to aid 
 her helpless husband. 
 
 " Where is he, woman ? and what do you want ?" asks 
 the besieged man, as she continues to drag him along with 
 a maniac's strength.
 
 150 NANNIE BATES. 
 
 It is a long time that has elapsed since she left her 
 threatened home, and the waves have found their victim. 
 They are not affrighted at the hideous spectacle of a 
 brutish and disfigured one, but they leap caressingly about 
 him, gliding over his pillow and hushing him into a deep 
 and lasting sleep. The empty cradle, and the stool, and 
 the rough board table with the flickering light upon it, 
 float above the flowing tide as the watchman enters the dis 
 mal cellar with the agonized woman and her children. 
 She springs to the corner, and while he feels for the heavy 
 mass with his club, she raises it with her tender hands, 
 and supports the drooping head upon her loving breast, 
 while a cry of anguish goes out from the heart that could 
 never spurn him, even in his lowest moments. 
 
 It is not of any use to chafe the cold temple, nor to try 
 to bring back the departed life ! You '11 be better without 
 him, poor soul, though it is dreadful to feel that he has 
 gone hence in his sins ! No wonder Nannie shrinks away 
 as the watchman, with the aid of one of his fellows whom a 
 spring of his rattle brings to the spot, bears their father 
 out on their way to the dead-house. He had never been 
 kind to her since she can remember, and his coming has 
 occasioned only a terrible fear and dread from day to day, 
 yet she sobs out of sympathy for her mother, whose grief 
 is fearful to witness. 
 
 They follow the corpse, and all night long the poor 
 woman keeps her widowed vigils around the place where 
 they have deposited her husband. She thinks not of the
 
 NANNIE BATES. 151 
 
 child upon her bosom, nor does she heed nor resist Nannie 
 as she takes it gently away and runs back to the region of 
 the overflowed cellar. The morning has dawned in se 
 renity and loveliness, but there are signs of a late devasta 
 tion all about. Broken limbs of trees are strewn hither 
 and thither, while now and then one wholly uprooted lies 
 prostrate across the street. Busy men are working hur 
 riedly to extricate a poor family whose house a land-slide 
 has quite buried. The mother and father have escaped 
 the catastrophe, but their boy and girl are crushed in the 
 fallen ruins. Deep gullies in the hill above her home show 
 Nannie how fearful was the storm, and a mass of stones 
 and rubbish that fill the sluice, that should have turned the 
 water from their door, tell her the reason of their dreadful 
 inundation. She is trying to think 'whether it is dreadful 
 to her or not, when a kind voice accosts her. " What 's 
 the matter here 3" says Mr. Bond ; " and what are you and 
 the baby out for in this soaking condition? Isn't your 
 mother in the house, "and have n't you a dry rag to put upon 
 that poor child ? 't will get its death, and you, too ; come 
 in here, quick, and let 's see what can be done." 
 
 " If you please sir, father 's drowned in the rain last 
 night, and my mother's up by the dead-house, and me 
 and baby have n't any home any more to go to, nor any 
 dry clothes to wear," said Nannie, wringing the little frock 
 that clung to the shivering infant, and following her friend 
 half-way down the steps to the cellar. 
 
 " JusFas I feared !" said he, looking into the room
 
 152 NANNIE BATES. 
 
 and quickly retreating ; " the poor wretch has met a 
 sudden and awful doom, the Lord preserve us all I'Wnd, 
 telling Nannie to keep up with him, he led the way to a 
 higher and more healthy quarter of the street, and stopped 
 at a tidy-looking' house, where a neatly clad woman an 
 swered his rap. "You have lodgings to let?" asked he, 
 glancing with an evident pleasure upon the white floor of 
 the entry that showed no spot nor stain. 
 
 " Why, yes, sir," returned she with an uneasy look at 
 the forlorn child and baby on the step ; " there 's a room 
 and bedroom in the attic to let to respectable people 
 as has no followers, nor drinkings, nor carousings, nor 
 such like about 'em." 
 
 " Let me see them, my good woman," said Mr. Bond ; 
 " I '11 make all right if they suit," and he went puffing up 
 the three flights of stairs, while Nannie pattered after him 
 with the infant, drabling her wet garments over the clean 
 floors, to the no small annoyance of the landlady. " These '11 
 do, these '11 do," said Mr. Bond, with a glee some tone, as 
 he looked from the windows upon the blue waters, 
 where the boats were gliding busily back and forth, 
 and whence the pure fresh breeze came up even into 
 the rooms, giving them a healthful air. " This is to be 
 your home now, Nannie, and you may be sure I '11 help 
 you to be somebody if you '11 help yourself ;" and, turning to 
 the woman, he told her the reason of the child's pitiable 
 condition, and payed her in advance a quarter's rent, 
 giving her also some money with which to procure a dry
 
 NANNIE BATES. 153 
 
 suit for the children ; and then he departed to send the 
 few articles of furniture from their former abode, to which 
 he added a bedstead and bedding, a nice cooMng-stove, a 
 couple of chairs, and a few other conveniences. 
 
 Nannie was almost beside herself for joy as she surveyed 
 the snug and cheerful apartment, and the new goods as 
 they stood in their respective places. The chairs were by 
 the windows, and the stool occupied a prominent position 
 before the new stove ; the old table was covered with an 
 oil-cloth, and a brass candlestick and snuffers were upon it. 
 There was a pound of crackers, and a loaf of bread ; and a 
 pint of milk, and a new tin cup and pewter spoon for Win 
 nie, and Nannie hastened to give the starving child some 
 of the fresh milk, while she sat beside the pleasant window 
 wondering if Mr. Bond was one of the angels that her 
 teacher used to tell her about and then she laid the baby 
 upon the soft bed in its cradle, and put a new blanket over 
 it, and peeping into the bedroom again to see if she had n't 
 been dreaming there was a real bedstead there, all nicely 
 furnished and dressed, she went off to seek her mother, 
 locking the door carefully after her as her kind friend h&J 
 directed. 
 
 7*
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 IT was hard to hurry him off so and to cover him up 
 from the face of his own wife, even if he was a loathsome 
 drunkard 1 But they could n't keep him there long, for 
 new victims were constantly arriving, and he must give 
 place to them, and so they hustled him off in a deal box, 
 without pall, or procession, or priest, and they did not 
 mind the woman and child that followed on and stood side 
 by side at the place of his burial ; but they covered him 
 over with the damp earth r and never a prayer above his 
 head ; and so they went away again, perchance to repeat 
 the office for another miserable one. 
 
 "Mother," says Nannie, as the hardened band moved 
 away leaving the one mourning heart by itself, " mother, 
 come home now, 'tis no use staying here, and baby '11 be 
 crying for ye, ye know." 
 
 Baby ! oh ! what, a link to earth was that ! 
 
 " Where is the child ?" said the mother, with a frantic 
 start, as if just awakened from a frightful dream. "Isn't 
 she dead, Nannie ? Did n't they just bury her with your 
 father ?" and she cast herself upon the moist turf, and tore 
 her disheveled hair until the very wildness of her sorrow
 
 NANNIE BATES. 155 
 
 calmed her. TJien she suffered Nannie to lead her away. 
 It was a long distance ; but they reached it at last, and the 
 mother rushed quickly up the stairs, not seeming conscious 
 of the change, as he heard the child's cries ; for the poor 
 little thing, unused to such long neglect, made all ring 
 again with its screams. 
 
 " Did you say this was home, Nannie, or is it heaven, 
 child ?" said the woman, as her babe was hushed, and she 
 became somewhat awake to her new position. 
 
 The sun was streaming upon the floor, and wall, and the 
 snowy curtains were fluttering in the pure breeze, and the 
 blue waves were dancing and sparkling in the bay, and 
 white sails were moving rapidly about, and from the 
 windows two beautiful islands were visible with their 
 
 P 
 
 summer verdure, and the bewildered mother pressed her 
 hand to her forehead, as if trying to unravel the mystery, 
 when Mr. Bond's fat and merry face peered in at the 
 door. 
 
 " All right," said he, with a glad smile, " how are you 
 getting along here, eh ? Rather better than the old cellar, 
 is n't it, Nannie ?" and helping himself to a chair, he took 
 the baby from its mother, pinching its cheeks and chirrup 
 ing to make it laugh, until even Mrs. Bates was forced into 
 a more cheerful mood. But the tears would not stay long 
 away, and as the memory of her loss came from her from 
 time to time, she burst forth in a bewailing strain to her 
 kind benefactor, 
 
 " Ye 's too good to me, sir, and its thankful to ye I am
 
 156 NAM XI 12 BATES. 
 
 for it all ; but it 's my own husband that 's taken suddenly 
 from me, and ye '11 not be minding the grief." 
 
 " I know all about it, my good woman," said he, the 
 muscles about his mouth quivering with emotion. He was 
 thinking of a green grave afar off, with a maiden name 
 upon it, and a true heart moldering beneath. " But don't 
 tell me any more, think of the living that have got to be 
 cared for, and you '11 have no time to lament the dead," 
 and he chucked the baby under the chin, and dandled it 
 upon his fat knees, as if he had been used to it all his life. 
 
 " It 's the Lord will reward ye, sir, for looking after the 
 fatherless and widowed," said the woman, as she cast a 
 thankful glance about the cheerful room, and then upon 
 the benevolent face before her. " There ']! be three wit 
 nesses for ye if ever we get to the blessed land, and sure 
 ye '11 not need them either, I 'm thinking !" 
 
 " Never mind, never mind," said the kind man ; " I like 
 to help them that are trying to get up in the world, and 
 you '11 know where to find a friend whenever you are in 
 trouble I '11 look in upon you once in a while to see how 
 the children get on," and he handed her a card with the 
 number of his lodging upon it, saying as he went out the 
 door, . 
 
 " Don't forget to send for Peter Bond, when you need 
 any thing." 
 
 " Blessings on his big soul !" says the poor woman, as his 
 retreating footsteps die upon the stairs. " It is like taking 
 away the light, to lose sight of his merry countenance !"
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 "WAKE up, child," said the mother, giving Nannie a 
 gentle shake ; " the sun 's high in the heavens, and it 's 
 lazing we are in our blessed bed." 
 
 No wonder they pull the nice spread over them, and 
 sink down again upon the soft pillows, feeling that there 
 could be no greater luxury on earth. "But it must not 
 make them idle," Mrs. Bates says, and so Nannie jumps 
 up and dresses the baby, while her mother prepares the 
 breakfast. 
 
 Was there ever stove like that ! There 's a pleasant 
 smell to the polish as it burns off, and the wood has such a 
 crackling, cheery sound ; and the hot steam from the In 
 dian cakes sends forth an inviting odor as the brown sides 
 are turned upward. 
 
 Never mind if it is mid-summer ! the windows are open, 
 and the superfluous heat escapes, and the fresh air mingles 
 with and tempers the warmth of the room, so that it is 
 nice and comfortable ; it is so much better and more whole 
 some than the damp, dark basement. There is a slight 
 tinge upon baby's cheek already, and Nannie does n't look 
 quite so pale and sickly as she stands before the little mir-
 
 158 NANNIE BATES. 
 
 ror to brush her hair. " Oh ! an attic 's the place, mother ! 
 is n't it ?" says she, as she danced about the room with 
 Winnie. " We can breathe better up here, and Winnie '11 
 grow stout and healthy, for the sun comes in here," and 
 she smoothed her tiny palm over a bright beam that lay 
 upon the child's head, and kissed it as if it were a living, 
 grateful presence. Winnie, too, crowed, and jumped, and 
 twisted her wee fingers in the warm rays, and seemed quite 
 conscious that something great and good had happened to 
 her. The mother participated in the joy, but as they sat 
 down to a comfortable breakfast, and she missed the red 
 features that had so long been opposite, her knife and fork 
 dropped from her hands, and the food was salted with 
 bitter tears 
 
 " Mother," said Nannie, putting down her untasted cake, 
 " ye '11 be breaking your heart for the dead father, and then 
 what '11 Winnie and me do ? I '11 not eat a morsel till ye 
 dry your tears and help me !" and she folded her hands 
 and sat gazing upon her mother, with the drops in her own 
 .eyes, until she saw her make an effort to eat. It was a 
 quiet meal, though, and soon over, and the child was left to 
 tidy the house, while the mother went forth to sell her 
 wares. She did not mind so much being repulsed now, for 
 even if she failed to profit by her day's labor, there was a 
 willing friend to fall back upon, so that there was no fear 
 of starving ; so, with a light step, she trudged along, and 
 the people wondered what had come over the poor huck 
 ster woman.
 
 NANNIE BATES. 159 
 
 There was such a winning, cheerful sound in her voice 
 as she tapped at the window and said, " Any thing to-day, 
 ma'am ?" they could not let her go without purchasing 
 something a piece of tape, or a few pins, or a bunch of 
 matches. It did not matter if they were at breakfast, 
 father could wait a minute for his coffee, and mother would 
 write an excuse for the children to take to school, so they 
 open the window, and make their bargains, and hand out 
 the pennies, and the happy woman goes tripping along, 
 lighter both in basket and heart, and the breakfast has an 
 uncommon relish, so all think as they gather around the 
 table again. Charity is a capital seasoner.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 MR. BOND sits beside his center-table with his legs 
 crossed and his eyes fixed upon the portrait. He wonders 
 what Betty Lathrop would advise him to do about the 
 poor girl if she could speak. He hears a great deal about 
 spiritual manifestations and communications, but he has no 
 faith in them, and even if he had he would n't be guilty of 
 disturbing a departed soul unless for something of great 
 moment. 
 
 He thinks he reads her approbation of his conduct, thus 
 far, in the mild eyes that seem to look encouragingly upon 
 him. Good old man, it would puzzle the saints to find 
 fault with any of thy pure impulses ! 
 
 He wonders if Nannie ever went to school, and if she 
 has read the Pilgrim's Progress ? He '11 take it round there 
 some day, her education must n't be neglected, and she 
 can't be spared from Winnie to go to school now. He 
 has n't any body tc care for, and why should n't he make 
 those children his especial charge ! Puss rises slowly 
 from the rug, where she has been lying curled up this long 
 time, shakes herself, and puts her two fore paws on Mr. 
 Bond's knees, as if to remind him that he has something to
 
 NANNIE BATES. 161 
 
 care for and cherish, and then walks back again and puts 
 herself in the old position, while her great orbs are rolled 
 up at the master. 
 
 " It will not make any difference to you, puss," says Mr. 
 Bond, leaning over and stroking the warm fur ; " there 's 
 milk enough for you and Winnie too, and she 'd have done 
 it, I know," pointing upward to the portrait, as if the cat 
 understood it all ; then he took his hat and cane in his 
 hand and went down stairs, stopping at his landlady's 
 room to tell her " if a poor little girl with a baby should 
 come to see him, not to send her away, but to let her go to 
 his room and rest." 
 
 " Pretty piece of business !" said Mrs. Kinalden, as he left 
 the house ; " tis n't any beggars' brats I '11 have tracking 
 the dirt up my stair-ways, I '11 warrant ye !" and she 
 flourished her soup-ladle as if in defiance of ah 1 such en 
 croaches upon her blessed domain, 
 
 Mr. Bond did n't hear nor see it, though, for his elastic 
 step was away down the street, and if he had he would 
 have thought it only Mrs. Kinalden's way, and would not 
 have taken offense at it. There was so much that was 
 bright and good in his own heart that he could not feel 
 the ill that was in other people's natures, and his life 
 passed as smoothly as if he were not continually subjected 
 to petty annoyances from those about him who imposed 
 upon his forbearance and amiability. 
 
 Earth was beautiful to him, and so was life ; there had 
 been but one dark spot in his whole existence, and that
 
 162 NANNIE BATES. 
 
 was when Betty Lathrop twined her young arms around 
 his great neck and told him she must- die. 
 
 Her grave was very green, though, and there were roses 
 of his own planting around it, and a pure white lily ; and 
 there was a holy light always visible to him just above it, 
 as of an angel with glorious wings hovering. He did n't 
 feel as if she had departed wholly from him because 
 he could not see her bodily presence, for he knew that the 
 love was still with him, and this it was that shed such 
 a halo all about his pathway, and there can not be sadness 
 nor gloom where such a consciousness exists. 
 
 There are not many Peter Bonds in the world though !
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 OH ! what a gleesome time Nannie had all the long 
 summer day up so near the blue heavens ! There was a 
 rapturous sort of joy in watching the fleecy clouds as they 
 played in the pure ether, and, while baby slept, she would 
 kneel down by the window with her head turned side-way 
 upon her arm, and look into the depths of the sky until 
 she fancied she saw the spirits beyond ; and then her 
 little soul would try to dream out the mystery of being and 
 immortality. She did n't think so much of this in the damp 
 dark cellar every thing there seemed to draw her earth 
 ward ; but it was exalting, and refining, and purifying, to be 
 up so near the angels, and the change was manifested even 
 in her face, which grew more spiritual, and was really quite 
 winning now. 
 
 Her happiness was almost perfect as she contrasted the 
 sad past with the bright present. There was only one 
 thing more to long for, and that was books. She could 
 read very well, but all the literature she possessed was 
 Robinson Crusoe, which one of the ladies at the school 
 had given her, and that she had learned almost by heart,
 
 164 NANNIE BATES. 
 
 BO that she sung page after page to "Winnie as she lulled 
 her to sleep, and now she craved something more. She 
 was thinking so earnestly about it that she did not hear 
 Mr. Bond's knock, nor perceive that he had entered the 
 room and seated himself by the other window, until he 
 touched her shoulder with his cane across the table. 
 
 " Nannie," said he, as she started and asked his pardon 
 for not noticing him, " I 've brought a book to lend you ; 
 would you like to read it ?" 
 
 A book ! Who could have told him that of all things in 
 the world that was what she most desired ? 
 
 " Oh ! thank you, sir," said she, as her eyes glistened for 
 joy ; I 'm so glad of it, sir !" and she turned the leaves and 
 looked at the illustrations, while he watched her with a 
 deep interest. 
 
 " She would know all that she need to know when she 
 had read the Bible and Pilgrim's Progress." So Mr. Bond 
 thought. He had not noticed that there was no Bible 
 there. He forgot that there could be a person in the 
 world destitute of the precious Word of Life, and he would 
 have gone off without finding out Nannie's great need, if 
 she had not reminded him of it as she turned to the ex 
 planation of the allegory appended to the work in her 
 hand. " Oh ! it tells about Heaven ! does n't it ?" said she, 
 looking at her kind friend with a sparkling eye. 
 
 " Have n't you a Bible, Nannie ?" asked he, seeking 
 vainly for one about the room. 
 
 "No, sir," replied the child. "We haven't had one
 
 NANNIE BATES. 165 
 
 for a long time. Miss Earl gave me one at the school, 
 but my father took it." 
 
 Poor soul ! no food for thee, while the world is teeming 
 with the blessed Book ! Tear off the gilt clasps, and the 
 velvet bindings, and scatter the healing leaves that are 
 hidden within, all about among the people. Let not one 
 hungry one perish for lack of Heaven's bread while there 
 is enough and to spare lying all about useless! "Her 
 father took it !" What for ? to learn the way to Paradise ? 
 Ah ! no to pawn for the hot liquid that must drown him 
 in perdition. And the dealer in the dreadful traffic took 
 it dared to snatch from his fellow man the comforting 
 words sent unto him by a loving God, and to substitute 
 instead the poisonous and damning cup ! Even Satan him 
 self must loathe him! Mr. Bond sees it all he knows 
 where the Book has gone. But Nannie shall have another, 
 and she must promise to study it every day. 
 
 " I '11 send you one, Nannie," said he, " and a little stand 
 to keep it on d' ye hear ?" and the kind man hurried off 
 to get the holy volume. To think that he had not seen to 
 that before ! It was a moment of penitence to good Mr. 
 Bond.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 IT was nice for Winnie to sleep so sweetly ! Now Nan 
 nie could look over the book. It was far before Robinson 
 Crusoe ! She went with Christian every step of his journey, 
 and experienced the same joys, and suffered the same ter 
 rors. Oh ! it was so good of Mr. Bond to lend her this 
 book ! She sat by the cradle with one hand upon it, so 
 that if Winnie stirred she could hush her ; and she did not 
 see the long shadows in the room, nor remember that the 
 fire must be made, and the table prepared for tea, and the 
 water brought, before her mother came, until it was too 
 dark to read any longer. Then she started up and got the 
 pail. She was almost afraid to go to the pump, for there 
 were some very rude boys in its vicinity, and she had 
 never ventured out so late before. But she must go ; she 
 was very wrong to put it off so, and she ran as quick as 
 she could with a beating and timid heart. 
 
 " That 's the new gal, as lodges in Mrs. Flin's house 
 where the fat man goes so often," said a rough-looking lad 
 to a ragged and dirty group, that huddled about the 
 walk.
 
 NANNIE BATES. 167 
 
 " Let 's have at her," returned another, and suiting the 
 action to the word, he flew along the street after the fright 
 ened child, with the whole troup following him. 
 
 The little thing tried hard to out-run them ; but 't was 
 in vain ; they were close upon her, and one had kicked the 
 pail from her hand, while another was about to tear the 
 string from her neat sun-bonnet which he had snatched 
 from her head; 
 
 " Be off, or I '11 bate the life out of every mother's son 
 of ye, an' my name 's Pat Rourke," said a tall Irish boy 
 who came up that moment, laying about him right and left 
 among the little brutes, who scampered in every direction, 
 not without a few wholesome bruises as witnesses to Pat's 
 bravery. " Come on, my little girl," added he, taking 
 Nannie's trembling hand, " I '11 get the wather for ye ;" and 
 taking up the pail, he filled it, and carried it quite to the 
 child's room. " It 's a purty place ye have herfe," said he, 
 looking from the windows, " and a nice little sister," as 
 Nannie took the waking child from the cradle. " Here let 
 me make the fire for ye," continued he, seeing the awk- 
 Avardness of working with a baby in her arms, " and don't 
 go to the pump again, Pat Rourke's the boy as '11 get the 
 wather, when he comes from the coal-yard o' nights ; ye 
 may put the pail down by the door in the enthry, an' its 
 quickly ye '11 find it filled ;" and the noble-hearted boy 
 stubbed out of the room, with his heavy boots clumping 
 down, down, down. 
 
 "Every body's good to me," thought Nannie, the fll
 
 168 NANNIE BATES. 
 
 usage of the moment before quite forgotten in the joy at 
 finding so kind a champion. 
 
 The room looked nice and cheery when Mrs. Bates re 
 turned. The new stand was in the corner, with the new 
 Bible upon it, and the table was spread with a frugal, but 
 wholesome meal ; and Nannie seemed so bright, and the 
 baby so sprightly and well. Besides she had sold all her 
 wares, at a good profit, so that she was free from care for 
 the time, at least. Nannie had a great deal to tell about 
 Mr. Bond, and the book he had brought her, and of Pat 
 Eourke, her manly protector ; and the mother began to 
 think the bright days were dawning upon them indeed ! 
 She did n't forget the sorrow that had so lately come to 
 her; but there was a joy in the children that was infec 
 tious, and her smiles were more frequent than her tears.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 MRS. FLIN seemed to her new lodgers to be a quiet kind 
 of body, keeping her own house without minding much 
 about her neighbors. The truth of it was she held herself 
 a good deal above them, for she was well to do in the world. 
 Besides she visited in the next street at the large white 
 house with green blinds, where they kept a hired girl, and 
 to be sure she did n't care for the people that took one or 
 two rooms of her, and lived in a small way, save for the 
 money they paid her ; she was pretty sure to make them 
 all a call once a quarter at least, and woe betide them if 
 the rent-money was not forthcoming ! She did n't call her 
 self a hard-hearted woman ; but she must look out for her 
 own rights since Mr. Flin Wcos off at sea the greater part 
 of the time, and there was nobody to take the responsi 
 bility from her. 
 
 One thing troubled her considerably, and that was that 
 such a gentlemanly-looking man as Mr. Bond should lavish 
 all his favors and visits upon her poor lodger's children. 
 She thought he might as well stop sometimes on the first 
 floor and notice her little Sammy; but he never did 
 although she often met him in the entry, and invited him 
 
 8
 
 170 NANNIE BATES. 
 
 to walk in and rest before going up the long flights of 
 stairs but went panting upward with his gold-headed 
 cane in his hand, and the ruffles to his shirt rising and 
 falling at every ascent. 
 
 Sammy was a sad little rascal, and would throw apple- 
 skins on the entry floor, and lay round pebbles on the 
 lowest stair, hoping to trip the old man up as he came 
 in or went out, and Mr. Bond caught him at it, so that 
 he was always careful afterward to kee.p an eye to his feet. 
 But the boy stood in his own light, for there were no favors 
 for him after that. Mr. Bond never patronized wicked 
 children. 
 
 His mother would manage to stand in the door, when 
 ever she saw the gentleman coming, with Sammy by her 
 side, and she would ask him if he was n't fond of children, 
 and tell him what a good boy Sammy was at school, and 
 how well he got on with his lessons ; and then Sammy 
 must speak his last piece to Mr. Bond. But it would not 
 do ; he stood it all very patiently, and when she had the 
 grace to leave space enough for him to pass her, he would 
 make his bow and walk gravely on, glad to reach the shel 
 ter of the pleasant attic. Mrs. Flin laid it up against him, 
 though, and threw out many an innuendo concerning his 
 frequent visits to the poor children, when gossiping with 
 her friend of the white house, and so it reached his land 
 lady, Mrs. Kinalden, who knew Mr. and Mrs. Airly very 
 well. 
 
 " A strange how d' ye do it is," said she to Mr. Bond,
 
 NANXIE BATES. 171 
 
 one evening on his return from Nannie's, "that I must 
 keep my doors open till half past nine o'clock, for you to 
 be out on your untimely visits to a poor widder ! It is n't 
 any sich doings Susan Kinalden '11 countenance, you 'd 
 better believe !" 
 
 Mr. Bond did not think her worth one moment's ex 
 citability, so he calmly told her she could find another 
 occupant for his room if she was dissatisfied with his con 
 duct, and he would seek a home elsewhere. 
 
 It was wonderful how changed she was when he went 
 down to breakfast the next morning. There were hot eggs 
 beside his plate, and a dish of warm toast, and the land 
 lady was full of her compliments. " She did n't see how 
 Mr. Bond managed to look so fresh and young! She was 
 on the sunny side of fifty, and anybody would take him to 
 be her brother!" and when he asked her what time he 
 should remove his furniture, she wondered he had lived so 
 long in the house with her and never yet found out her 
 jesting propensities. She 's sure she could n't desire a nicer 
 or more circumspect boarder than Mr. Bond ! And so the 
 matter passed over. She knew her own interest too well 
 to venture on forbidden ground again. And he had got 
 attached to the room, and did not care to leave it. The 
 portrait had occupied that same space for more than ten 
 years, and there was a sacred sort of feeling about the 
 place that he could not find elsewhere. Puss liked her 
 quarters too, and it was not worth while to seek a change 
 so long as she did n't complain. Mr. Bond thought him-
 
 172 NANNIE BATES. 
 
 self very foolish to have proposed such a thing, and he 
 went from his breakfast and settled himself in his chair by 
 his center-table, with a self-gratulation that he had n't got to 
 move after all. As for Mrs. Kinalden, she could scarcely 
 forgive herself for incurring the risk of losing one of her 
 best and most permanent boarders, and her night had been 
 spent in bitter self-reproaches and regrets. The morning, 
 however, compensated for the night of grief, when she felt 
 that Mr. Bond good soul ! overlooked it all, and was 
 willing to stay. " It stands you in hand to mind your 
 tongue, though, Susan Kinalden," soliloquized she, as she 
 wiped the last dish and stood it up end-wise in her pantry. 
 " It is n't the first time you Ve come nigh biting your own 
 head off!"
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 " COME in, Pat ; mother '11 be glad to see ye," said 
 Nannie, as he put the pail softly within the door, and 
 was about retreating. 
 
 " Faith and that I will," said the woman warmly, opening 
 the door wide, and setting a chair for the boy, who seemed 
 nothing loth to enter. 
 
 It was pleasant to find a clean spot to sit down in after 
 his day's labor, and the happy faces in that room had 
 haunted him as a dream, too good to be real, since he had 
 first seen Nannie and Winnie. His home was a disagreea 
 ble, shabby place, and his mother did not care to make it 
 otherwise, and Pat felt it a great privilege to go occasionally 
 to see his new friends. " It was n't for nothing," thought he, 
 " that I did the good deed by the girl ; it 's many a pleas 
 ant hour I Ve had here since that blessed night !" and he 
 drew his chair up to the table where Nannie had the big 
 Bible open reading aloud to her mother. 
 
 " I '11 keep right on here where I was reading, Pat," said 
 she, " because it 's so beautiful," and she finished the de 
 scription of the new Jerusalem in the Revelation of St. 
 John.
 
 174 NANNIE BATES. 
 
 " That is n't for such as me, Nannie is it ?" asked the 
 poor boy, who had sat with his chin in his hand listening 
 intently while the child was reading. 
 
 " Oh ! yes," answered Nannie ; " you should hear Mr. 
 Bond talk about it, Pat. I could n't believe that any of us 
 would ever live in such a beautiful place ; but he says 'tis 
 just as we have a mind ; that if we are good in this world, 
 and do every thing that we know to be right, and try to 
 keep from what we feel is wrong, and love God, we shall 
 go there when we die ; and I 'm sure it is worth trying for 
 is n't it, Pat ?" and Nannie closed the Book, and placed 
 it reverently upon the stand in the corner. 
 
 Her mother had been busy getting the supper, but she 
 heard the words of the blessed volume, and wiped away a 
 tear with the corner of her apron as she thought of him 
 who could have no part in that glorious city. But she 
 must n't let the children see her weep, so she put away her 
 sorrow, and stirred about, talking cheerfully the while, and 
 Pat felt that there was no place in the world like that 
 neat cosey attic, and that Nannie Bates's lot was one to 
 be envied indeed. 
 
 He didn't know how long she had pined in the damp 
 and dreary cellar with nothing bright nor pretty near her, 
 aud how bitter all her days had been until just before he 
 had befriended her after Mr. Bond had provided her new 
 home for she had never told him any thing of the past. 
 Indeed she scarcely ever dwelt upon it herself, for there was 
 so much gladness for her now that she forgot all about
 
 X ANNIE BATES. 175 
 
 any other time, and so her cheeks grew round and ruddy, 
 and nobody would have thought her the same child that 
 
 sat upon the steps of the great house in street one 
 
 sunny day, some time before, with a pinched-looking little 
 baby in her arms. Pat thought her the prettiest girl 
 he had ever seen, and she fairly worshiped his great Irish 
 face and the yellow hair that hung straight over his fore 
 head. Winnie, too, would cling to him, and lay her little 
 soft cheek to his red coarse face, and clasp her tiny 
 arms about his neck, and play with the yellow locks 
 as if they were the sunbeams themselves ; and then she 
 would jump and croAv as he played bo-peep with her, 
 and stretch out her wee hands and cry as he turned 
 away and went tramping down the stairs. Pat knew how 
 to win young hearts there was always a cake of ginger 
 bread in his pocket, or a stick of candy for Winnie, 
 or a new rattle or something for Nannie, and both learned 
 to watch for his coming with glad emotions. 
 
 He brought a rose-bush and a petunia for Nannie, 
 and made a shelf for them by the window, and the 
 beauteous buds came thick and fast, shedding out their 
 fragrance in the sunny room, and making it still more 
 delightful to Nannie. She would sit where the breeze 
 wafted the pleasant odor to her, and, closing her eyes, 
 fancy herself in Paradise, and she would watch the sun 
 that she might catch every one of its warm rays for her 
 plants. 
 
 She had never dreamed of getting so high up in the
 
 IfB NAXXIE BATES. 
 
 world as to have real flowers blooming in their own room. 
 She thought such things were only for the rich ; but she 
 had yet to learn that there are many comforts and bless 
 ings that all may freely enjoy if they have only the taste 
 and disposition, and that the poorest habitation may, 
 at least, be made to bring forth the precious blossoms of 
 hope and joy at the will of its inmates.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 " OH ! there 's the poor girl with the baby, that lives 
 in the cellar, Biddy !" said little May Minturn, a few weeks 
 after she had given her the blanket. " See how fat the 
 baby 's grown !" and the child ran after Nannie, who was 
 walking at a quick pace to avoid her, for she would gladly 
 have hidden from her the fate of her gift ; but May was 
 not to be shunned, and she pulled at Nannie's shawl as she 
 came up with her, and said, " Don't carry the baby away, 
 I want to see her. Oh ! she looks more like my sissy now, 
 for she 's got a little pink in her cheeks ; but what have 
 you done with the blanket ? this is n't half so prettr 
 as the one I gave you," and she looked inquiringly at 
 Nannie, who had seated herself upon some steps to rest^ 
 and pulled aside the flannel that enveloped the babe, thus 
 exposing its naked feet 
 
 " Don't be offended, miss, and I '11 tell you what became 
 of it," said Nannie ; " before Winnie had time to wear it 
 once, some one took it from her and sold it. I sorrowed 
 for it a great deal, but that would n't bring it back, and 
 now Winnie must wear this one ; 't will keep her warm, 
 
 but I know it is n't pretty." 
 
 8*
 
 178 NANNIE BATES. 
 
 " Are not you afraid in that dark room ?" asked May, 
 sitting down on the step beside the girl, and taking hold 
 of the baby's hand. 
 
 " Oh ! we don't live there now," said Nannie, in a 
 gleeful tone. " We have a beautiful home way up close 
 by heaven !" and she gazed up into the sky and felt how 
 much further off she then was than in her new home. 
 
 " May I go there to see you ?" said the little girl, " and 
 will you go with me to heaven to see my brother a little 
 while ? Mamma says he 's there, and I 'd like so much to 
 play with him !" 
 
 " But we can not go there till we die," replied Nannie. 
 " I look up from my window sometimes until I think I see 
 the angels, and then I almost want to fly right away to 
 them ; but Mr. Bond says God will take us when he wants 
 us, and that it is wicked to be impatient." 
 
 " Did you see my Georgie up there ?" asked May, draw 
 ing closer to Nannie, and looking still more earnestly at 
 her. "He had on a white frock, with a satin ribbon around 
 his waist, and he had curls just like mine and sissy's. If 
 you say Georgie, Georgie, perhaps he '11 answer you as he 
 used to mamma. Don't you think God will take us pretty 
 soon ?" continued she, patting the baby's head, and leaning 
 over to kiss its brow, " I 'm all ready to go, and Georgie 
 wants me, too." 
 
 " Shure, and the child '11 be an angel before long, I 'm 
 thinking !" said Biddy, as May arose and took her hand to
 
 NANNIE BATE*. 179 
 
 go home ; the misthress would be greeting sair if she heard 
 all her little prattle." 
 
 Nannie gazed after the wee figure as it went up the 
 street beside the nurse, and then she looked at the baby 
 that was nestling its tiny head upon her bosom, and she 
 felt that there was a sort of mysterious link between 
 Winnie and the sweet child whose kiss was fresh upon 
 her forehead. The feeling made her shudder, and she 
 hugged her little sister closer to her breast, as she thought, 
 
 " Mayhap both may soon be wanted above !" 
 
 Home did not look so bright to her that evening. 
 Something seemed to be threatening evil, and she sat 
 listless and abstracted, when her mother came home, look 
 ing from the window. She did not even see her mother, 
 until she put a hand upon each of her shoulders and asked 
 her " if she was napping ?" 
 
 " Oh ! no, mother, I 'm not dozing, and I 'm not ill ; but 
 there 's something coming to Winnie, I know there is. It 
 is n't long that she '11 brighten" the house !" said Nannie, 
 trembling with emotion. 
 
 " Don't be foolish, child," said her mother, after she had 
 ascertained that her precious babe was sleeping sweetly in 
 its cradle, "Winnie's growing stout and healthy, and it's 
 thankful we should be, instead of fretting for fear there '11 
 be sorrow to come." 
 
 Nannie shook her head mournfully, and took her knit 
 ting from the table, but her heart was more busy with 
 its sad reflections than were her fingers with the young
 
 180 NANNIE BATES. 
 
 babe's sock. She did not even notice Pat much that 
 evening ; but merely took the great apple that he handed 
 her with a quiet " thank ye ;" and then relapsed into her 
 silent and thoughtful mood. 
 
 Pat would not stay to sit down, for Nannie had not 
 seconded her mother's invitation, and the disappointed boy 
 only lingered to take one peep under the curtain of the 
 cradle of Winnie, and then went home to his abode with 
 a downcast mien, and a slow gait.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 MR. BOND had not been to see them for a great while, 
 and the cold weather was coming, and there were hard 
 times in store for them, if they did not manage to get some 
 sewing, or something to do. It was the first of November, 
 and the breeze was no longer soft and bland, as it came 
 from the blue waters upward into the little room, but it 
 was fresh and chilly, and had a mournful tone, and Nannie 
 got cotton and stuffed the windows tight to keep it out. 
 There was but little fuel in the house, and scarcely any 
 money for their next quarter's rent, and Mrs. Flin had been 
 up a day or two before to warn them that they must leave 
 if the funds were not ready by a certain time. Mrs. Bates 
 had fallen down stairs by means of one of Master Sammy's 
 round pebbles, and lamed herself, so that she was no longer 
 able to trudge about with her basket, and where she had 
 applied for sewing, they told her there were more appli 
 cants than work, and so she did not know what to do. 
 
 " To-morrow's rent-day, Nannie," said she with a sigh, 
 " and I have* but a dollar put by toward the twelve. I 
 shall have to send you round to see Mr. Bond, child, and 
 it 's me that 's ashamed to do that afther all he 's done for
 
 182 XANNIE BATES. 
 
 us ; but it can 't be helped ! It 's unfortunate we 've been 
 the last month, and shure he '11 not be blaming the Provi 
 dence as brought it to us !" 
 
 So Nannie put on her old hood and cloak, and went 
 timidly up to Mrs. Kinalden's door. The old lady's aspect 
 was rather forbidding, as she answered the bell, and found 
 only a beggar child had summoned her from her dinner- 
 pot, and she was about to slam the door in her face, when 
 Nannie said, 
 
 " It 's Mr. Bond I 'm wanting to see, ma 'am, if you 
 please." 
 
 Mrs. Kinalden would have been glad to send the child 
 away ; but she remembered the past, and dared not ven 
 ture ; so she told her to be sure and wipe her feet clean, 
 and then she ushered her up stairs to the bachelor's- 
 room. Nannie knocked softly, and as she heard a faint 
 voice say " Come in," she opened the door and entered. 
 One glance revealed it all. Mr. Bond had been sick very 
 ill and she had never once been to inquire about him. 
 He sat propped up in his easy-chair, with a flowered dress 
 ing-gown about him, and his head against a pillow, and 
 there was a warm fire in the fire-place, and bowls standing 
 about with bread-water, and gruel, and arrow-root in them 
 and labeled vials were upon the table, so that she felt he 
 had really been in some danger. Besides, his face was thin 
 and pale and wrinkled, and she would scarcely have recog 
 nized him as the fat jolly old man who used to have hardly 
 a lap for little "Winnie to perch upon.
 
 NANNIE BATES. 183 
 
 " Oh ! it 's you, Nannie, is it ?" said he, with the same 
 pleasant tone as of old, and with one of his broad, beam 
 ing smiles that played over his hollow cheeks mockingly. 
 " Did n't coine to see your old friend all these three weeks, 
 and he too ill to get off from his bed. He would n't have 
 served you so, Nannie, that he would n't !" and he looked 
 half reproachfully, half jestingly at the serious face of the 
 young girl. 
 
 " And we were all the time wondering if ye 'd deserted 
 us, sir," said Nannie, as she stood by the table twisting her 
 apron over her finger ; " and never a word of your ill 
 ness did we hear, or the days would not have slipped away 
 and we not have been to ye! Maybe ye were needing 
 somebody to nurse ye, and ye lying alone here with 
 no hand to give the medicines?" and she looked inquir 
 ingly at him. 
 
 " Mrs. Kinalden has been as attentive as she could be 
 with her cares, Nannie," replied the patient old man ; 
 "but the pillows would have lain a little easier if -a little 
 girl that I know of had come in sometimes to shake them 
 up for me, and perhaps the bed would have been softer 
 for making over once in a while." How quickly the old 
 hood and cloak went off, and the nimble hands shook and 
 beat the sick man's bed until it was as plump as a par 
 tridge and she put on the clothes so smoothly that there 
 was not a wrinkle in them ; then she arranged the glasses 
 and vials nicely upon the table, and washed the spoons, 
 and warmed him some gruel, and she read a psalm to him,
 
 184 NANNIE BATES. 
 
 and then donned her things again to go ; but she had n't 
 said a word about the need at home, and perhaps she 
 would not have remembered it until she had returned 
 to her mother had not Mr. Bond said, "Nannie, how 
 are you getting along now ? Let 's see, to-morrow 's rent- 
 day, is n't it ? and hard times, too. Hand me the wallet 
 out of that desk there, child, I must see you through this 
 cold weather," and he counted out twelve dollars and tied 
 them in a corner of her handkerchief. " So your mother 's 
 not able to go out any more," said he, as Nannie told him 
 of the trouble " Well, we '11 see what can be done ; you 
 must n't suffer, d'ye hear ? and mind you come every day 
 to make my bed while I 'm sick, 't will save Mrs. Kinalden 
 some work and I guess 't will suit me better," added he, 
 as he glanced at the inviting-looking nest that had not 
 before shown its proper proportions since his illness, 
 " Here, take this orange to Winnie," said he, as the child 
 moved toward the door ; " I '11 be round there in a few 
 days," and he looked brighter than he did a half hour 
 before. "I wonder what there is in a child's presence 
 to make things so sunny," thought Mr. Bond, as the young 
 girl left the room. " Her little hands seem to have glossed 
 over every thing they touched, and the gruel had a relish 
 that that old woman could never give." 
 
 It was willing hands that made the difference, good Mr. 
 Bond. A sick bed's a hard place for one who has no 
 kind and voluntary attention. Call in experienced nurses 
 and skillful physicians pay them more than the half of
 
 NANNIE BATES. 185 
 
 your substance send out for all the luxuries a diseased 
 palate may crave it won't do, Mr. Bond, it won't do ; 
 there needs a loving heart to anticipate all your wants, and 
 a tender hand to bathe the fevered brow and smooth the 
 uneasy pillow, and a low sweet voice to whisper soothing 
 words in your ear; then it's a sort of pleasure to lie 
 so languid and careless, and watch the gliding motions 
 of your quiet nurse, and feel that you are getting on 
 so comfortably. 
 
 Mr. Bond did n't need to be told all this ; he felt it, 
 as day after day, during his convalescence, the little feet 
 came tripping up the stairs, and the child's glad hands 
 ministered unto him ; and, after she had made all tidy and 
 had gone out and closed the door softly behind her, 
 he would lie gazing at the youthful features of the bonnie 
 lassie upon the wall, and wonder how many more times he 
 should be so near her, and yet not be permitted to go. 
 " Must n't be impatient," that 's what you told Nannie, 
 isn't it, Mr. Bond? there 's a great deal for you to accom 
 plish yet in your master's vineyard before the reward 
 comes ; the walls are broken down all about, and there 's 
 many a tender vine exposed to the wild boar and the 
 beasts of the field, and it is for you to help repair the 
 breaches before you go hence to rest from your labors.
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 PAT had not seen his old friends for many days, for 
 Nannie was a good deal out with the basket now her 
 mother was confined to the house, and, somehow, her man 
 ner toward him the last time he was there made him feel 
 shy, as if he was not wanted there any more. Still the 
 pail was filled as usual, and stood beside the door, with 
 many a nice and pretty thing for the baby. Mrs. Bates 
 wondered why she never heard him come up the stairs 
 now, and if he had got tired of playing with Winnie, and 
 if his own home had grown more pleasant. She did n't 
 know how often he had put his ear to the key-hole to see 
 if he could hear one of baby's gleesome laughs, or the 
 sound of Nannie's voice reading aloud, or talking to her 
 mother. Nannie caught him this time, though, as she 
 returned from her labors, and the boy's face grew redder 
 still, as if he had been detected in some mean act, but her 
 good-natured smile reassured him, and he found his tongue. 
 
 " It 's listening for Winnie I am," said he, " and I 've not 
 seen her swate face the week." 
 
 " But, Pat, why have n't you been here this long time ?" 
 asked Nannie, opening the door and leading him in as if he 
 were a child.
 
 NAXNIE BATES. 18Y 
 
 Pat felt that she would think him very foolish if he told 
 her the reason of his absence, so he kept silent, but he was 
 happier than he had been for many a day, as he sat in his 
 old seat with Winnie snuggled close to his breast. Win 
 nie reciprocated the delight, but her demonstrations were 
 very violent ; she slapped Pat's face with her rosy palms, 
 and pulled his hair, and bit his fingers with her aching 
 teeth, forgetting the while the painful gums that had made 
 her so wearisome all the day. 
 
 Nannie was uncommonly cheerful, for all was right now, 
 and Mr. Bond was well enough to visit them on the mor 
 row, and Pat was back again, and they were to remain in 
 the pleasant attic for another quarter at least, and mother 
 had some work that promised a good profit, so there was 
 no pressing want upon them just now. Mr. Bond had 
 sent some shirts to be made against the summer. He did 
 not like the common way of bestowing charity. He 
 always required an equivalent for what he handed out. 
 He would not have Nannie grow up with the feeling that 
 she was a beggar, so he found something to be done, and 
 paid good round prices for the work. Mrs. Bates stitched 
 so busily, thinking he needed the garments all the while. 
 She did n't quite understand Mr. Bond, though ! It did n't 
 matter to him if there were piles on piles of pure white 
 linen in his great trunks. What if somebody did get the 
 good of them after his death ! he did not care to take his 
 worldly treasure with him, but was quite willing to leave a 
 goodly portion for the benefit of others ; besides, many a
 
 188 NANNlE BATES. 
 
 worthy man owed his prim Sunday suit to those same 
 heaped-up chests, and it would have done you good to see 
 the broad ruffles bedecking the sons of Erin as they es 
 corted their sweethearts to vespers. They would cross 
 themselves, and murmur a prayer for the " masther," here 
 tic though he was, and they knew they would get him out 
 of Purgatory, if masses and penances would avail. As for 
 Nannie and her mother, it was dangerous to say a word 
 against their benefactor in their presence. Nobody had 
 ever dared the thing excepting Mrs. Flin, and she would 
 not encounter such a belaboring of tongues again for all 
 the bachelors in the world. Pat, too, was his most en 
 thusiastic admirer, for he had encouraged his going to 
 spend his evenings in the neat attic rather than crawl 
 to his own miserable abode to be contaminated with the 
 fumes of rum and tobacco, and the scurrilous example of 
 his abandoned parents. 
 
 It was a wonder to the good man that there could be a 
 spark of virtue in the boy's character, and that he had 
 been so far preserved from the taint of his vile home as to 
 care for the purity of his gentle neighbor's. He did not 
 remember how beautiful the contrast must be to Pat as he 
 came from his mother's den of infamy, where rags and dirt 
 prevailed, to the neat and cleanly dwelling, and the pure, 
 bright, happy faces of Mrs. Bates and her two children. 
 
 It wasn't his fault that the woman who had dared 
 to take upon herself the sacred name of mother, had 
 spurned the terrible responsibility consequent upon that
 
 NANNIE BATES. 189 
 
 assumption, and cast her children from her bosom out into 
 the wicked world, with never a care, nor a blessing, nor a 
 prayer ; it was n't his fault that his infant soul had been 
 even more pitiably neglected than the uncared-for body; 
 it wasn 't his fault that the little hands were taught to fight 
 and steal rather than lift themselves up toward a gracious 
 father to invoke His love and blessing, or that the words 
 of blasphemy were frequent on the lips that were made for 
 prayer and praise. He could think of a time when his 
 childish knees had bent before the good God, of whom 
 a kind friend had told him, and his own mother who 
 should have been prostrate beside him in penitence for her 
 sins both against him and her Maker shouted her ribald 
 songs even in his unwilling ears. No wonder Mr. Bond 
 thought it strange that Pat had any yearning left for the 
 good and the exalted. But his heart did heave mightily 
 beneath the mass of corruption that his own parents had 
 heaped above it, and he felt it gradually loosening, so that 
 the Sun of righteousness gleamed upon it, though dimly. 
 It was something to have even that faint light to show 
 him the loathsomeness of his condition, and it helped him 
 wonderfully in his efforts to cast the burden wholly from 
 him. It was no mystery to him that " Christian" felt such 
 a relief when it was quite gone, and that he hastened 
 onward toward the end of his journey with a light and free 
 step. It was not for nothing that the poor boy helped 
 Nannie Bates in the hour of her need, the blessing was 
 coming, life was just beginning for him.
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 IT was a bitter cold day, and the winds whistled through 
 the cordage of the shipping and came moaning up, beat 
 ing against the corked windows ; but it was of no use 
 they could not get in, for Nannie had stuffed the cotton in 
 all the cracks as tight as she could, so that there was not 
 even a crevice left, and they had to go whirling back again 
 to play their old tricks among the rigging of the vessels. 
 Oh ! it was so pleasant to watch the dark waves as they 
 tossed and foamed, while the boats bounded buoyantly over 
 them. Nannie did not care for the frost, nor for the fresh 
 chill breeze, for the stove was red with warmth, and she 
 had not to go out that day. Mr. Bond was coming, and 
 she had a holiday. Now and then her face grew a little 
 long as she thought " perhaps it might be too cold for him 
 to venture out ;" but it was round and cheery again as the 
 sound of his well-known step was upon the stairs. 
 
 " Heigh-ho, here !" said he, as little Winnie crept toward 
 him and clasped her tiny arms around his leg ; " has n't 
 forgotten its old friend, has it ?" and he lifted the child up, 
 seating it upon his shoulder as he moved toward a rocking- 
 chair. " Not quite well, yet, ma'am," replied he to Mrs.
 
 NANXIK BATES. 191 
 
 Bates' inquiry after the state of his health. " This north 
 wester 's rather too strong for me now ;" and he panted, 
 and put Winnie down while he took off his mufflers. 
 " Had to wrap up well this cold day, you see, but could n't 
 disappoint these little folks ;" and he patted Winnie's head 
 and re-instated her upon his knee. She did not keep 
 slipping off as she used to do before Mr. Bond's illness, but 
 had a very comfortable seat now, and her hands remem 
 bered the full pockets they had so often rifled, and went 
 rummaging about to see if the times were unchanged. 
 
 The goodies came tumbling all about the floor, and the 
 old man was as merry as the children who scrambled after 
 the sugar-plums Winnie cramming her little mouth until 
 they tumbled out again for want of room. " How do the 
 shirts get on, my good woman ?" said Mr. Bond, as he 
 watched the needles flying through the snowy cloth. 
 
 " I '11 have 'em for ye before long, sir," replied Mrs. 
 Bates, hastening her stitches as fast as she could ; " I 'd 
 spare the time from my sleep rather than ye should 
 be wanting them, sir." 
 
 " Oh ! never mind, never mind," said the kind man ; 
 " I 'm not in any great need, only there 's plenty more 
 work when that 's done. Where 's Pat, Nannie ?" con 
 tinued he, addressing the girl who was minding Winnie ; 
 " does he come often to see you, and do you read to him, 
 too ?" 
 
 "He'll be here the day to see ye, sir," answered 
 Nannie, with a joyous expression ; " we Ve got most
 
 192 NANNIE BATES. 
 
 through the Progress, and we read in the Bible, too, every 
 day, and Pat 's as good a boy now as ye 'd wish to see." 
 
 " He 's got a sad home, Nannie," said Mr. Bond, " and 
 his father and mother '11 pull him down again if they can, 
 but we must help him to stand upright. I depend upon 
 you, Nannie," and he looked at her as if he thought there 
 was great might in her aid. 
 
 "It's little I can do, sir, save the reading," said she, 
 looking slightly grave, as if too much was expected of 
 her. 
 
 " But you can keep him from bad associates," replied 
 her benefactor, " and the half is done then. He loves this 
 quiet place, and you can make it pleasant to him here, 
 so that he will see how much happier it is to live peacefully 
 and Christianlike than to be carousing and drinking as they 
 do in his own home. Poor Pat!" continued he, gazing 
 thoughtfully into the fire, " it 's been a sad life to him, but 
 the good is to come." 
 
 Nannie thought it had been a sad life to them all until 
 Mr. Bond found them out, but she felt that the future 
 would be bright enough if they might see his kind face 
 once in awhile, and she did not trouble herself with the 
 past now, that was all over, and the days were as merry as 
 merry could be. To be sure her basket was heavy, and her 
 feet weaiy almost every day, but what cared she for that 
 so long as she could come to so glad a home, and have only 
 kind words and loving faces about her. Mr. Bond did not 
 worry much about Pat after he saw his frank face peering
 
 NANNIE BATES. 193 
 
 in at the door. " Come in, Pat," said he, as the lad shuffled 
 forward to greet him. " I 'm glad to see you, my boy !" 
 
 "It 's much changed ye are with the sickness," said Pat; 
 " but ye 're the same in your heart, I '11 ever believe." 
 
 Pat was greatly changed, too, his friend could plainly 
 see that as he scanned the boy's features. He had grown 
 so manly, and seemed to feel such a self-respect not a 
 bold, disagreeable assurance, but a sort of rough, unassum 
 ing dignity that was both pleasant and becoming. He did 
 not sit down with his hat on, and his chair tilted backward, 
 and chatter and jabber as if he were of quite as much im 
 portance as his benefactor, but stood respectfully, with 
 uncovered head, and answered Mr. Bond's questions mod 
 estly and politely, and waited to be asked before he made 
 himself at home in the presence of his superior. 
 
 A very pleasant time they all had in the nice attic, and 
 they dwelt upon it for many days afterward with a peculiar 
 pleasure. It was not often that Mr. Bond could come to 
 see them now, for he was not as strong as before his illness, 
 and the snow came early to keep him in also, and Nannie 
 consoled herself by enumerating his virtues to Pat, who 
 quite agreed with her that " he was fit to be a saint." 
 
 9
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 You need not step softly to-night, Pat, though the baby 
 is sleeping. She will not hear your heavy boots, tramp they 
 never so loudly up the stairs. Never mind the doll you 
 have in your hand for her her eyes will not open to look 
 upon it. Lift the latch quietly, though, for there is grief in 
 the room, and noise comes harshly and gratingly upon a 
 sorrowing ear. Nannie can not look up to gre'et you, 
 neither can her mother welcome you now, though your 
 silent presence may be grateful to them both. Winnie 
 does not spring up in her cradle, with her merry laugh, 
 and stretch out her little hands toward you. She will not 
 twine her wee fingers in your yellow locks any more, nor 
 try to pick the big moles off your hard hands. She is 
 lying very still upon her soft pillow. Her nicest white 
 dress is smoothed down on her tiny form, and her hair is 
 parted upon a marble brow. There 's a little coffin on the 
 table, and you know who is to occupy it ; but it is too sud 
 den, too dreadful for you to realize at once ! Do not try to 
 take her up, nor warm the cold cheek against your own 
 burning face. The blood is quite chilled in the blue veins, 
 and the limbs fall passively down. There 's a bud from
 
 NANNIE BATES. 195 
 
 Nannie's bush in one hand, but she does not hold it first to 
 your nostrils and then to her own, with her cunning little 
 ways, as she used to do. Do not ask them how it all hap 
 pened; how can they tell you, and their hearts almost 
 breaking ? They did not even hear the angel's wings as he 
 came to bear away the sweet babe. All they knew was, 
 that there was a convulsive movement of the little limbs, 
 and then they were rigid forever. 
 
 There 's a terrible gloom all about, and it oppresses them 
 with its strange weight ; but they hardly know that the 
 baby is gone from them. Is she not there in the cradle, as 
 she is every day at this hour, and are they not all very 
 quiet for fear of disturbing her ? Or, are they all dream 
 ing, and is a horrible nightmare upon them, from which 
 they vainly strive to arouse themselves ? Pat can not see 
 Nannie so listless, and so white, with the vacant stare, and 
 not speak to her ; so he goes round by the side of the 
 cradle where she is, and hands her the doll. " It 's for 
 Winnie," said he, and the big drops fell from his full eyes 
 upon her hand. There 's great power in sympathy, and 
 Nannie can weep now ; so can the mother, and there comes 
 a sort of peace over the group, that was not there before. 
 Nannie gets up and gathers all the little playthings to 
 gether and puts them away with the doll ; but it is too 
 much ! it gives the place such a forlorn aspect ; and she 
 takes them out again and scatters them, as if it would 
 bring Winnie back, too. The night is very sad, and so is 
 the morrow ; and the next day Mr. Bond comes with a
 
 196 NANNIE BATES. 
 
 minister. Winnie is lifted into the narrow coffin, and a 
 fresh bud graces her breast. Mr. Bond stands a long time 
 gazing upon her white, white brow, and he fancies he sees 
 'a hallowed impress there, as of a Divine hand. He can 
 not help his strong emotion. Wasn't Winnie getting 
 deeper and deeper down into his heart every day, and can 
 he see the little head that lay so often upon his bosom, 
 covered with the cold earth ! The minister thinks her 
 very lovely, as she lies there so free from spot of sin, and 
 he almost Avonders they can weep over her early release 
 from a world of effort, and toil, and care ; but he knows 
 what a struggle it is to give up a parent's richest posses 
 sions, for there are little ones^that used to call him father, 
 now lying beneath the snow, and he weeps with the 
 afflicted, as he reads the burial-service over their darling. 
 
 There needs but one carriage for the mother and Nannie, 
 and Mr. Bond, and Pat ; and the little coffin is placed on a 
 deat in the middle. They can not leave it until it is hidden 
 from their sight.
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 " NANNIE must go to school," said Mr. Bond to himself 
 the day after the child's burial. " It won't do for her to 
 stay there moping and pining after little Winnie ! The 
 baby's gone, and it won't bring her back again." 
 
 And so it was settled that she was to begin the next 
 Monday. Mr. Bond thought it better that she should go 
 to the parish school immediately in her vicinity, and con 
 nected with the church which he attended not that he 
 wished to free himself from the slight tax demanded by 
 private teachers, for many a comfortable donation ten 
 times the worth of so small a pittance, found its way into 
 the parish treasury from his liberal purse. Oh ! no, that 
 was n't Mr. Bond's reason. He knew that the child would 
 be under a good and religious influence there, for besides 
 being well taught, she would be daily gathered with the 
 rest of the liltle lambs into the consecrated chapel, and be 
 made to feel that her moral culture was of still greater im 
 portance than the mental. Besides he liked to know that 
 she was under the eye of some good shepherd who would 
 lead her safely on to the great and ever green pasture.
 
 198 NANNIE BATES. 
 
 It would be so pleasant to him, too, to see the object of his 
 benevolence and care Sunday after Sunday, pattering up the 
 broad aisle to her seat, and joining in the solemn and beau 
 tiful worship. He didn't believe she had ever been to 
 church in her life ; he ought to have inquired into that 
 before. Poor Mr. Bond ! here was another subject for 
 penitence. So much as he thought of such privileges and 
 blessings for himself, too ! He was afraid he was not fit 
 for such a responsibility as the one he had assumed ! 
 Well, the minister would help him ; that was a comforting 
 thought. 
 
 Nannie was delighted at the idea of studying. She had 
 a quick and inquisitive mind, and she looked at the little 
 parcel of books that her good friend brought her with a 
 glad eye, and when Monday came she took her satchel, 
 and long before the hour, was on her way to school, with a 
 quick step and a buoyant expression. 
 
 There was no task in getting her off to her books, as 
 there is in many a case where advantages come more 
 lavishly. She felt that the blessing was too great to be 
 sufficiently estimated. Her teacher long ago had told her 
 that whatever of knowledge was gained in this world would 
 not be lost, but that if rightly applied, it would make her 
 spirit brighter, and fit it for a continually increasing and 
 glorious expansion in the life to come ; and she had wisdom 
 enough to know that every intellectual acquirement was 
 adding to the talent intrusted to her, and thus honoring 
 the gracious Giver. So she determined to strive earnestly
 
 NANNIE BATES. 199 
 
 to improve her new privileges, and thus repay her benefac 
 tor as well as adorn her own mind. 
 
 The morning was very beautiful as she tripped along in 
 the pure snow. The flakes had fallen thick and fast the 
 day before, and now lay in feathery heaps all over the 
 trees and fences and trellises, and there was but just a 
 narrow path for her feet to tread upon. Men and boys 
 were all about with their shovels, busily working, and the 
 pure mass was tossed quickly from the walks. Snow-balls 
 were flying at the peoples' heads, and many parties were 
 already moving briskly over the smooth surface, and the 
 bells were jingling gayly, and there was a healthful glow 
 .upon every body's face. 
 
 Nannie could n't feel very joyous, for she thought of the 
 little form that lay so still and breathless under the tiny 
 mound ; but the scene before her inspired her with cheer 
 fulness, and she trudged on trying to be happy with the 
 rest. She was just before May Minturn's door she could 
 not forget the house had n't she sat on those steps with 
 dear Winnie, and had n't little May spoken kindly to 
 her, and kissed baby, too ? It recalled her sister to her 
 so vividly that the tears would not be stayed, and she 
 let them flow. Just then the door opened, causing her to 
 look up ; there was a black crape tied to the bell, with a 
 white ribbon, and she knew that either May, or the little 
 sissy that she used so often to speak of, was dead. 
 
 "Is that for May," asked she, as -Biddy spoke softly 
 to her from the top step ; and she pointed to the funeral
 
 200 NANNIE BATES. 
 
 emblems that were floating in the wintry breeze. " And 
 may I see her, Biddy ?" 
 
 " Shure, and that ye may," said Biddy, " and it 's "Winnie 
 she was calh'ng the day she died, jist before the life left her 
 swate body ; and how is the babby ?" asked she, as Nannie 
 followed her to the drawing-room. 
 
 " She 's gone where May is," replied the sister, suppress 
 ing her sobs as far as she was able ; " I knew they 'd be 
 wanted there !" and she stopped for the nurse to admit a 
 little more light into the darkened room. 
 
 How beautiful little May was in her quiet repose ! She 
 lay upon the sofa with her soft curls falling over the calm 
 forehead, and flowers covered the pillow, and her hands 
 were folded upon her gentle breast as if they had done all 
 their little work on earth. 
 
 Mrs. Minturn had seen Nannie enter the room, and she 
 knew her as the child May had so often spoken about, and 
 she went softly in where they were and stood beside 
 the sofa, so pale and calm in her sorrow that Nannie was 
 almost frightened. She noticed Nannie as she kissed the 
 still sleeper, and smoothed down the silken hair lovingly, 
 and she severed one beautiful lock and laid it in the poor 
 girl's hand. Biddy had told her mistress of Winnie, and 
 she had felt that the two children were as sisters in that 
 Spirit land, and so she spared the precious curl. Oh ! how 
 Nannie treasured it. It seemed such a sacred thing to her 
 to possess something that the finger of death had hal 
 lowed, and when she went home she folded it in a soft
 
 NANNIE BATES. 201 
 
 paper and put it within the cover of the big Bible, and 
 often she drew it reverently forth, in after years, as she 
 dwelt upon the two seraphs whose forms she could dis 
 tinguish amid the angel band. 
 
 9*
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 MRS. BATES sat alone in the quiet room, sewing all the 
 day, while Nannie was at school. It was so very still that 
 it was oppressive to her. Winnie's cradle occupied the 
 same spot as when the babe was in it she could not put 
 it out of sight ; and the little garments hung about the 
 room on the pegs in the corners. The wintry sun came 
 faintly in and shone upon the pillow of the tiny bed, and 
 the mother, ever and anon, cast her tearful glances to the 
 spot that was consecrated by the sweetest of memories. A 
 rag-baby, that had shared Winnie's affections as well as her 
 pillow, still lay within the sheets, as the child's hands had 
 often placed it. The tin cup and spoon were upon the 
 mantle, and the playthings were gathered into an old wil 
 low basket, their wonted receptacle when Winnie was there 
 to use them. How often had she pulled them, one by one, 
 from their resting-plaee, and then restored them with an 
 untiring interest, only needing occasionally an encouraging 
 glance from mother to keep her contented by the hour 
 together ! It seemed to Mrs. Bates as if she must still 
 look up from her needle to give the child some frequent 
 sign of her care and love, but as her eye fell upon the va-
 
 NANNIE BATES. 203 
 
 cant space, it was almost too much for the overcharged 
 heart, and it required all her energies to master her grief 
 sufficiently to keep about her accustomed duties. 
 
 The poor have little leisure to nurse their sorrows : there 
 was Nannie left to toil for, and it was unfitting her for her 
 necessary labors to give vent to the rising anguish, there 
 fore she choked back the bitter sighs and tears, and plied 
 her needle diligently, trying to think only of the mercies 
 left her. She had still plenty of work. It was wonderful 
 how many friends Mr. Bond had who could supply her 
 with employment. There were little dresses, and pinafores, 
 and numerous other small articles of clothing, always ready 
 for her. She did not know how many a needy household 
 owed its replenishing to this same stock of ready-made 
 clothing which good Mr. Bond kept constantly on hand. 
 He did not wait to see whether such and such a thing 
 would be needed before he had it made, but wherever he 
 found a ragged child he sent a suit from his well-stocked 
 wardrobe, and an abundant blessing flowed back upon him, 
 repaying him an hundredfold for clothing the naked and 
 destitute. 
 
 Mrs. Kinalden once in awhile caught sight of the min 
 iature suits through the brown paper envelops that, 
 somehow, got torn on their way to the batchelor's room, 
 and her indignation knew no bounds. 
 
 " It 's a shame and a disgrace," said she to herself, " that 
 he should tarnish my house with such things, and then 
 have the boldness to look me in the face !" But luckily
 
 204 NANNIE BATES. 
 
 for her, she only said it to herself, and Mr. Bond, conscious 
 of his own integrity, kept on his even way, scattering 
 blessings wherever he went, and never imagining that his 
 very Christian deeds were the occasion of many an unjust 
 query on the part of his curious and suspicious landlady. 
 
 She, poor soul ! fumed and fretted inwardly until the 
 gloss and shine were quite gone from her widowed cheeks, 
 leaving them really sallow and wrinkled. There 's nothing 
 like a contented, happy disposition, Mrs. Kinalde^n, to pre 
 serve one's youth and beauty. You need not brush up 
 your fading charms before your tell-tale mirror, and try to 
 restore your lost luster by artificial means ; it won't effect 
 any thing. The fact is, the trouble is internal. You must 
 cleanse first the inner man of the heart, and you will be 
 surprised at the reflection of your own face then, it will 
 change into such a mysterious winsomeness ! Never mind 
 Mr. Bond's actions they can not lie at your door, but take 
 care that your own are as free from taint as your inexpli 
 cable neighbor's. It is not for you to see the hidden 
 motives that govern those about you; the best way for 
 you is to think favorably of every body, and you have no 
 idea how much peace and comfort it will bring to your 
 own soul. 
 
 Mrs. Bates had never dreamed of questioning her bene 
 factor's deeds, they shoAved their uprightness upon the very 
 face of them, and she had no fellowship with her gossiping 
 neighbors, to whose flings she could not always be deaf. 
 Mrs. Flin began to be more social, much to her regret, for
 
 NANNIE BATES. 205 
 
 she had little sympathy with her loquacious guest. What 
 was it to her if the Airly's did keep a span, and drive out 
 every day ? she was willing Mrs. Flin's friends should ac 
 cumulate riches, and enjoy them, too, if she did live in an 
 humble attic, and stitch from morn till night for her daily 
 bread. What if Mrs. Airly had a new silk, spring and 
 fall, and was getting in with such good society ? It did 
 not make her a whit the less thankful for her scanty yet 
 neat wardrobe, nor for the few friends it was her fortune to 
 possess. She did n't mind if Master Sammy was to go to 
 a select school ! She had all confidence in Mr. Bond's 
 judgment concerning Nannie, and rejoiced that she could 
 feel so easy as to the child's moral culture. She did n't 
 care for Mrs. Flin's foolish prattle about her great acquaint 
 ances, and her own future anticipations of a higher station. 
 It was not half of it that she heard ; but if one sly innu 
 endo was sent at the good man to whom she was so much 
 indebted, there was a determined look that cowed the slan 
 derous tongue before it could speak out its full meaning. 
 Oh ! what a relief was it to the poor widow to see the last 
 of Mrs. Flin's bombazine gown floating out the door, and 
 to be sure that she was free from a repetition of the annoy 
 ance of her company, for the day at least. 
 
 The thought of her angel child, and the solitude of her 
 quiet home accorded better with her sad and contemplative 
 mood, than the foolish clatter of her simple neighbor's 
 gossiping member, and right glad was she that her ac 
 quaintance extended no further than to her kind benefac 
 tor, and to the noble and honest Pat.
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 " OH ! mother," said Nannie, throwing her hood upon 
 the table and brushing the hair off from her flushed fore 
 head, " school 's so nice ! Miss Coit 's one* of the dearest 
 ladies ; and she says I '11 be one of her best scholars if I 
 keep on as I 've begun ; and we have such beautiful sing 
 ing, and Christmas is 'most here, and then we are to have 
 a tree hung all over with presents for the children ! 
 Won't it be grand, mother ?" and she laid her hand on her 
 mother's arm to force her to stop working and attend to 
 her. 
 
 "Yes, yes," said Mrs. Bates, "it's glad I am for ye, 
 Nannie ; but what 's that in your hand, child f" taking the 
 paper and looking upon the little curl within. 
 
 " Oh ! mother," replied Nannie in a sad tone, " it 's May 
 Minturn's, she that loved our baby, and she 's gone where 
 Winnie is ; and her mother 's such a pale sweet lady ! She 
 gave me this, because she said May and Winnie are as sis 
 ters up in heaven." 
 
 That was such a pleasant thought to Mrs. Bates. She 
 was too sensible a woman to wish to do away with the dis 
 tinctions which are productive of much good in this life,
 
 NANNIE BATES. 207 
 
 but it was a happiness to feel that in the other world, the 
 good and pure could all mingle as brethren ; that despoiled 
 of the external marks of roughness which make so much 
 difference here, the spirit could appear in its real loveliness 
 so that it would be neither loathsome nor repulsive. She 
 did not expect those who were fitted by the advantages of 
 education and refinement for a high position in life, to 
 stoop to an equality with those whose more humble 
 stations were wisely allotted them. She appreciated their 
 self-denial and kindness in seeking out the lowly ones, and 
 aiding them in their efforts to struggle upward, and no 
 taint of envy or hatred toward those whom God had 
 chosen to place above her in this world, ever found its way 
 to her heart. So with a meek and contented mind she 
 pursued her quiet way, never murmuring because of bless 
 ings withheld, but grateful for the unmerited favors so 
 richly heaped upon her. She had a great deal to be 
 thankful for ! Nannie was in a good way, and Pat was 
 just like a son to her, doing her errands, and helping her 
 about the wood and water as if she were his own mother. 
 He had come to board with them now, for it had grown so 
 bad in his own home, and he had vainly tried to make it 
 better so he left them altogether, and Mrs. Bates had a 
 rough couch constructed, and she covered it with neat 
 print ; and there in the outer room Pat slept. He was up 
 betimes in the morning, and had the fire made and the 
 kettle on to boil, and then he heard Nannie study, while 
 her mother got the breakfast ready ; and by this means he
 
 208 NANNIE BATES. 
 
 acquired the same knowledge himself, for Pat was ready to 
 learn, if he had been kept down all his life with no culture 
 nor teaching. 
 
 His board helped them, and their kindness and affec 
 tion helped him more than he had ever been aided since 
 his birth, for he came to think he was of some consequence 
 to somebody, and this makes a wondrous difference to a 
 person. It made Pat particular in his manners and neat 
 in his dress, and it brought a peculiar joy to his heart to 
 know that the house was a gainer by his coming to it. 
 Mr. Bond had got him a situation as porter in the establish 
 ment of one of his mercantile friends, and his employer 
 thought every thing of the diligent and honest lad, and 
 gave him good wages, so that he had a trifle to lay up, 
 besides providing his board and clothing, and getting an 
 occasional present for Mrs. Bates or Nannie. It was alto 
 gether a very thrifty household now, and Mr. Bond felt no 
 uneasiness about going awhile to leave them. 
 
 He had had a lingering cough ever since his illness, 
 and the doctor ordered change of air and a warmer 
 climate, and so he must go. It was very hard to leave 
 his snug room, and to turn away from the silent face that 
 was ever looking upon him, and it cost him many a 
 serious pang to give up the care of his favorite puss to the 
 tender mercies of Mrs. Kinalden ; but it would be wrong 
 to tamper with his health, and he must crush all regrets 
 and disinclinations, and perhaps he might return sooner 
 than even his physician had hoped. He waited but one
 
 NANNIE BATES. 209 
 
 moment after the carriage came to bear him to the boat 
 bound for Cuba to take his farewell of the objects of his 
 deepest regard, and then went more gravely down stairs 
 than was his wont. 
 
 Mrs. Kinaklen felt a sort of sorrow as she closed the 
 blinds of his room, making all dark, and then turned the 
 key in the lock, while puss preceded her to her own 
 sitting-room, and she bestowed sundry endearing epithets 
 upon the animal, even patting her back in a friendly sort 
 of way as she stooped to smooth the rug for her to 
 lie upon. It was something to miss the step that for years 
 had been heard in the house, and to see the place that he 
 had so longed filled at table occupied by another. 
 
 Mrs. Kinalden had a heart after all, so you would have 
 thought had you seen how often the silk handkerchief was 
 applied to her eyes in the course of that day.
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 CHRISTMAS came and went, and there were merry times 
 in the parish school, and in Nannie's home, too. Her 
 stocking was filled to overflowing by her mother and Pat, 
 and there was a nice present from her kind teacher, too; 
 but they did not have the tree until Epiphany, for 
 that the minister said " was the Gentile Christmas, and he 
 thought the good things and presents upon the tree 
 would help the children to remember the great and 
 glorious gifts that the Saviour's birth and manifestation 
 brought to them all." 
 
 The little things could scarcely sit still during service in 
 the church, but kept turning and twisting upon their seats 
 and looking toward the chapel where the tree was. At 
 last the moment came when they were to walk in pro 
 cession around it, so as to have a good view of its beauty 
 and promise before the articles were distributed. 
 
 The minister headed the procession with the parish 
 children, and Nannie felt her importance materially in 
 creased as he took her hand and moved down the aisle. 
 She had never seen any thing so pretty as the brilliant 
 scene that had met her gaze when the doors were thrown
 
 NANNIE BATES. 211 
 
 open, and the illuminated star and bush appeared to 
 her delighted gaze. " Oh !" thought she, " the parish 
 school 's the school for me ;" and she gave little Sammy 
 Flin, who had come in out of curiosity, an exultant glance 
 as she passed the pew where he was perched up to get 
 sight of what was going on about him. " She did n't 
 believe they had such times any where else, or that the 
 minister led them along before so many people, just as if 
 they were his own children." She could not see how he 
 yearned for them in his heart, feeling a greater anxiety and 
 care for them, than he did for his own offspring that had 
 never been so much exposed to the temptations and snares 
 of the world. All she felt about it was that she was a 
 poor little child, weak and ignorant, and that he was 
 a priest of the great God, and taught the people from the 
 blessed Book, and that it was a great honor for her 
 to stand by his side when so many other children would 
 covet the place. When Nannie Bates' name was called he 
 handed her her presents a nice pair of warm mittens, and 
 a new hood, and a book, besides a turkey for her mother; 
 and he spoke to her of the little dead Winnie whose body 
 he had committed to the earth, and told her to be gentle 
 and good that she might some time go to her ; and Nannie 
 went home happier than ever, and filled up the evening 
 pleasantly with the glowing description of the day's 
 pleasure. Pat sat with his ears distended, and his arms 
 upon the table, leaning over toward her as she talked, 
 and Mrs. Bates almost forgot the light that had so lately
 
 212 NANNIE BATES. 
 
 been extinguished in her dwelling as the bright face before 
 her shone out in the pleasant room. 
 
 It needed only one more interested one to complete the 
 little circle, but he was bounding over the waves, and no 
 desire could recall him until the appointed time. He had 
 now been gone one week, and they could not hope to see 
 him until the opening of the summer, so they contented 
 theaiselves with the enumeration of his goodness to them 
 all, and with a fervent prayer for his safe return. The 
 moon gleamed upon the bay as Mrs. Bates and Nannie 
 looked from their windows upon the sparkling waves, and 
 they almost fancied they could descry afar off the beaming 
 face of their kind friend ; but he lay heart-sick and home 
 sick in the birth of the tossing ship, thinking of his cosey 
 room, and of the attic where so many pleasant moments 
 had been spent, and wondering if Nannie and Pat would 
 come to no harm while he was away.
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 THE winter was well-nigh gone, and it had brought but 
 little trouble to Mrs. Bates and her small family until now ; 
 just as the new quarter commenced she was short of funds. 
 Pat was confined to the house with rheumatism, and his 
 wages had stopped, and of course that stopped the board- 
 money, for what he had saved went for the doctor and the 
 medicines, and so Nannie had to leave school and take to 
 the basket again. It was a pity, for she was making such 
 rapid progress in her studies, and would soon be promoted, 
 but there was no help for it, the pantry was quite empty 
 of stores, and it could not be replenished without means. 
 Mrs. Flin was urgent for the rent, too, and threatened to 
 let the rooms to more prompt tenants. She forgot that 
 she had never been put off before, and that good Mr. Bond 
 would be sure to make up all arrearages on his return from 
 his voyage. 
 
 It was not that she needed the money at all, for there 
 was plenty of silver in her coffers, but she loved to look at 
 the shining bits ; and it did not matter to her if they did 
 cheat some hungry one out of the necessary morsel. Her 
 ambition was to be equal with the Airly s in point of es-
 
 214 NANNIE BATES. 
 
 
 
 tablishrnent, therefore she toiled on to lay up the glittering 
 heap, and every little while she sat down by it to build up 
 imaginary fabrics of splendor and show. There was a 
 house to let near her friends, with the same external marks 
 of gentility, and she was negotiating for it, and it was to 
 be furnished as nearly like her neighbor's as possible, and 
 she and Sammy were to emerge from the lowly obscurity 
 that had so long shrouded them, into the magnificence and 
 grandeur of the next street. It was for this important step 
 that Mrs. Bates was to be turned out into the chilly air, 
 with the sick boy and the fatherless girl. The poor woman 
 would not have stooped to entreat for permission to remain 
 one moment were it not for the danger consequent on re 
 moving Pat in his present situation ; but her pleadings 
 availed nothing with Mrs. Flin any way, and so they went 
 out, with the weak and suffering boy hobbling between 
 them, and had their things put in a basement-room, which 
 they called home again. It was not well for Pat down 
 there in the cold and wet ; and they missed the bright sun, 
 and the pure air, and the cheering prospect, and alto 
 gether, what with the physical troubles incident to their 
 depression of spirits, and the struggle they had for bread, 
 they were getting on very ill, when a letter reached them 
 from Mr. Bond. 
 
 " I 'm coming on finely, my child," he said it was to 
 Nannie " and look quite like Peter Bond again. The 
 sea-voyage made me hearty, and a good appetite, freely in 
 dulged, plumped me up to my usual size, so that you would
 
 NAXNIE BATES. 215 
 
 scarcely believe me the same man who left you two months 
 ago, with the skeleton limbs losing themselves in the folds 
 of my wide garments. Every thing is so new and strange 
 to me, too, that I have plenty of amusement in watching 
 my neighbors ; and I often forget that I am as great a lion 
 to them, until I meet their inquisitive gaze. 
 
 " I should like for you to be here for a little while to 
 get some of the delicious fruits that are so common and 
 abundant, and to see the negroes working among the 
 sugar-cane and tobacco. I can not tell you all I would 
 like to in a letter, but we shall have very nice times when 
 I get back again, talking about what I have seen and 
 heard. I send you a few leaves of plants which I picked 
 while walking in the garden of the Bishop's palace. They 
 are unlike any you have at home, and I know your fancy 
 for such things. I want very much to hear how you are 
 getting along ; if you are as attentive as ever to your les 
 sons and school, and if Pat is doing well in the store, 
 and if the attic looks just as it used to ? and Nannie, you 
 must go to Mrs. Kinalden's before you write and see puss 
 for me ; and don't suffer for any thing, d' ye hear ? I 
 send your mother a little money to help her along while 
 I am away, for fear the work has failed. Shall come in 
 June, if permitted. Your friend, 
 
 "PETER BOSTD." 
 
 The letter brought much joy, as well as the money 
 that could reinstate them in their old quarters again ; but
 
 216 NANNIE BATES. 
 
 the times were still pinching, and poor Nannie almost sunk 
 down in the pitiless streets sometimes from fatigue and ex 
 haustion. She had got very weary one day, and had sold 
 but few of her wares, when she bethought her of May 
 Minturn's mother, and wondered if she would buy some 
 thing for May's sake ; so she sought the house and went 
 timidly in at the basement door. It wasn't Biddy who 
 opened it for her, but a strange girl who told her they 
 did n't want any thing ; and she had not the courage to ask 
 for the mistress, so she was turning sadly and despondingly 
 away, when she saw the pale sweet face at the window and 
 the white hand beckoning her to come up the front steps, 
 and a moment after, Mrs. Minturn herself admitted her 
 into the hall. 
 
 " I thought you were at school, Nannie," said she, look 
 ing over the articles in the basket, and selecting a goodly 
 number, " and that you no longer needed to go out in the 
 cold and tire yourself with this heavy thing," and she 
 tried to lift the basket which her delicate arm could 
 scarcely uphold. " I 'm sorry for you," continued she, as 
 Nannie told her of their misfortunes, " but come in here, 
 I have something to propose to you ;" and she led the way 
 to the nursery where a lovely little girl of ten months old 
 was amusing herself upon the floor with her playthings. 
 " Would you like to come and live with me, and take care 
 of Dora?" asked she, as Nannie stooped to caress the 
 child, " I need Biddy as seamstress, and you love babies 
 and know how to please them, do you not 2"
 
 NANNIE BATES. 217 
 
 Nannie looked earnestly at the young child, and as she 
 thought of Winnie, it almost seemed as if she were back 
 again, and she replied with tears in her eyes, " Oh, ma'am, 
 it would be so much better than that !" pointing to the 
 basket, " but perhaps I would n't suit you even if mother 
 will let me come !" 
 
 "Never mind that, Nannie," said Mrs. Minturn, "you 
 will suit if you, try, I am sure ; and I will give you more 
 than you could get by trudging day after day with your 
 small wares ; so run home and ask your mother, child, and 
 come to me on Monday, if you can." 
 
 " I would like it indeed !" thought Nannie, as she went 
 homeward with a light step. " It would be quite like 
 minding dear Winnie !" 
 
 They had got nicely settled again in the attic, and Pat 
 lay upon his couch making shadows on the wall with his 
 well arm to amuse himself, for the hours lagged heavily ; 
 and he longed to be tugging at the great bales and boxes 
 again. He thought it would do well enough for women to 
 be ill and confined to the house week after week ; but he 
 would rather work ever so hard than to be hived up in 
 one particular spot so long, even with the tender nursing 
 and care bestowed upon him. It did not occur to him 
 that he needed occasionally such a convincing remem 
 brance that he was mortal, which he perhaps often forgot 
 in his accustomed health and strength. But he came to 
 think of its object after awhile, and the discipline worked 
 to a charm, making him patient and gentle, and awaken- 
 10
 
 218 NANNIE BATES. 
 
 ing a deeper interest in tbe home where there is no more 
 sickness, so that when he felt himself growing robust 
 again, he looked back upon the trial with gratitude. It 
 took a great while though to regain what he had lost, and 
 he had to sit for many a day in the easy-chair with his 
 swollen feet upon a pillow, before his limbs would perform 
 their accustomed office. Oh ! how glad was he for the 
 power of locomotion, as his halting feet moved even slowly 
 over the floor ; and it was like a recreation to him when 
 he could walk down to the corner with the aid of a 
 crutch. But the limbs grew flexible at last, and he went 
 bounding off to his labors, thanking God that He had not 
 made him a cripple. The poor old man who hobbles about 
 Broadway upon one leg, owed many a penny to Pat's 
 rheumatic siege, and Pat acknowledged it to himself as he 
 lifted his free steps and took the way to the store.
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 MRS. BATES was very lonely after Nannie went to nurse 
 Dora, but she could not decline so good an offer, and 
 hardly thought of herself as she felt what a nice home it 
 would make for the child. Mrs. Minturn permitted Nan 
 nie to go often to see her mother, for she felt a parent's 
 sympathy for the forlorn woman who was bereft of all her 
 children, and she would herself go and sit beside Dora's 
 little crib, when the babe was wakeful, rather than deprive 
 Nannie of her visit to her home. She knew how bitter a 
 thing it was to be separated from the little ones that shed 
 such a halo over the house, and she could easily spare 
 the girl one hour an evening to cheer the lonely and 
 widowed. Dora would object, and cling to the young 
 nurse that she had so soon learned to love ; but the clasp 
 would grow weaker and weaker, until the non-resisting 
 form could be placed upon the bed, and Nannie always 
 hastened back before there was any real need. It was a 
 happy hour for her mother and Pat the one Nannie 
 spent with them. The table was drawn out and the books 
 were upon it, and the low voice read or chatted, and 
 a merry ringing laugh wSs often heard in the attic and
 
 220 NANNIE BATES. 
 
 then Pat would go back with the child to see that she was 
 safe, and woe betide the boy that dared an insulting word 
 or look. 
 
 " Was n't he a brave lad, though ?" said Nannie, as she 
 told Biddy about the water, and the beating Pat gave the 
 impudent troop of boys. 
 
 Biddy did n't dispute it, but she always went off into 
 some rhapsody about a " bonnie lad she had left in ould 
 Ireland, jist the boy that would be afther breaking the 
 heart of ye, Nannie !" 
 
 Nannie had not reached that point yet, though, and was 
 quite as contented watching the sleeping babe, as if there 
 were no such trysting places as sidewalks, and no enamored 
 boys and girls talking over the black railings about an Erin 
 of their own yet to be established in the new country. 
 She knew what it was to love her mother and the dead 
 child, whose memory would never die out of her warm 
 heart, and good Mr. Bond, who had always seemed to her 
 so far above all other mortals and Pat, too, who was, she 
 thought, the impersonation of all that was beautiful and 
 good ; but the " breaking of the heart of ye" was a dead 
 language to her, saving when it referred to some terrible 
 affliction. Don't talk to Nannie about that, yet, Biddy. 
 You 're both better off with the kind mistress, and the nice 
 home, and the warmth and comfort all about you, than 
 you would be with a close room and crying children, and a 
 husband who could n't support you. It is n't the love I 'm 
 talking against, Oh ! no thank heaven for that ; but wait
 
 NANNIE BATES. 221 
 
 until you can see the prospect clear for a comfortable 
 living before you enter into a compact that may bring 
 much misery -with it, and don't think that to be breaking 
 your hearts after the boys is of more importance than 
 doing your duty in the house of your employers. Nannie 
 is growing to be quite a stout girl, and perhaps Pat has a 
 faint idea that she will make him a good wife one of these 
 days ; but she does not dream of it, and only looks upon 
 him as Pat, yet. She never had a brother, so she can not 
 estimate her regard for him as a sister would ; indeed she 
 does not care to measure it any way why should she? 
 the time has not come for this. 
 
 Pat looks at her rosy face as she sits across the table 
 reading to them evenings, and he can compare it to noth 
 ing excepting the beautiful waxen figure he saw at some 
 museum, a long time ago, and which has haunted him ever 
 since. He paid something for seeing that, but this is a 
 free blessing, which comes to him every evening, and the 
 thoughts of it lightens the toil through the day, and quick 
 ens the step homeward. No wonder that he begins to feel 
 that he must some day make sure that it will always be so, 
 and that he studies over it after the light is out and the 
 room is quiet, as he lies musing upon his restless couch. 
 Does n't he see" that she is prettier and prettier every day ? 
 and does n't he know that there 's many a boy that would 
 be glad to call her " wife ;" and is n't he sure there '11 be 
 bloody times if any of them attempt to take her from him ! 
 And as the sleep gets a faint mastery over him, and he
 
 222 NANNIE BATES. 
 
 dreams of a tussle with Mike Dugan all on Nannie's ac 
 count the brawny arms strike outward, and the doubled 
 fists come with such force against the innocent plastering, 
 as to bring Mrs. Bates's nightcap to the bedroom door to 
 see if thieves are breaking into the house.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 MRS. FLIN has got into her new home, and there is 
 quite a rejoicing among her tenants. There is no fear now 
 from Master Sammy's apple-skins and pebbles, and the 
 landlady's bombazine dress has done sweeping its ample 
 folds across Mrs. Bates' floor. You don't catch Mrs. Flin 
 in that vile street any more ! She has an agent now to 
 collect her rents for her, and she does not even recognize 
 Nannie, whom she meets walking with little Dora in her 
 arms. She has as much as she can do to keep an account 
 of the number of calls Mrs. Airly has in the course of a 
 day, and to ascertain what stylish-looking young lady is 
 visiting there, and what mustached gentleman it is who 
 raises his eye-glass so gracefully as the three drive past. 
 Then she must stroll forth every morning at a certain hour, 
 which she has learned is etiquettical, with a card-case in 
 her hand, for that is the way Mrs. Airly who has not wit 
 enough to keep her own counsel told her she took to give 
 people an idea that she was greatly sought after. Mrs. 
 Flin's time is wholly occupied. It is not strange that she 
 never has an hour to spare Mrs. Bates now. Sammy does
 
 224 NANNIE BATES. 
 
 not exactly understand it all, and wonders why she pulls 
 him by the hand as they pass Nannie, whispering him not 
 to stop in the street to talk with that girl, when she used 
 to send him up stairs to play with her, as often as she could 
 get him out of her way, when they lived down there. 
 
 Captain Flin has returned from sea, and he scarcely 
 knows his own wife, she has grown so grand. He does not 
 feel at home in the new place ; and while she walks out 
 with the card-case, he takes his pipe, and goes down to sit 
 on Jerry Doolan's steps and smoke with him, and he goes 
 into the house (Jerry occupies the rooms vacated by the 
 ambitious Mrs. Flin), and sits before the window, with his 
 boots in the seat of it, wishing it was his home still, and 
 that these women would n't get such plaguy notions in 
 their heads ! 
 
 Fie, fie ! Captain Flin, will you let the weaker vessel go 
 ahead of you in ambition and enterprise, and you rest con 
 tent with such humble attainments ! Knock the ashes out 
 of your pipe, man, and go up to your own door as if you 
 had always belonged there. What if you do step on the 
 carpets as if they were eggs, and take up every thing as if 
 it were not made to touch, and run to the door every time 
 you hear the bell, as if it were not the maid's place. 
 What if you do insist upon performing your ablutions at 
 the kitchen sink, and using the same towel with the serv 
 ants, and help yourself of the edibles 'way across the 
 table, though Sally does her best to get your plate so as to 
 wait upon you? Watch your wife, Jerold Flin. Don't
 
 NANNIE BATES. 225 
 
 you see how easy this gentility sits upon her; and were you 
 not born and bred in as good a station as she ? You scorn 
 it all, do you ? Notwithstanding, I '11 warrant me you '11 
 not know Jerry Doolan this day twelve months ! Mark 
 my words ! 
 
 10*
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 NANNIE 's gone up to Mrs. Kinalden's to get some mes 
 sages for the letter to Mr. Bond. What has happened to 
 the old lady ? She has grown so very gracious, and places 
 a chair for Nannie, and offers her a warm doughnut which 
 she has just fried, and then she sits down with the cat on 
 her lap, while she talks to the girl about the old gentleman. 
 There 's a good-natured smile upon her face, and somehow 
 Nannie forgets how old and disagreeable she thought her 
 when she used to come to see the sick man ; and puss feels 
 quite at home on the kind lap that no longer gives her a 
 spiteful toss upon the hard floor. 
 
 There 's something come over Mrs. Kinalden, surely ! 
 Perhaps the letters that occasionally reach her from the 
 amiable bachelor have something contagious in them, and 
 may be they awaken in her mind a faint hope that the ad 
 dress, " My dear Mrs. Kinalden," may mean a little more 
 than appears upon the surface. He says "how much 
 he misses the comfort of his home !" too, and " what de 
 light it will give him to be once more settled in his quiet 
 room ;" and he tells her to " take good care of puss for his 
 sake ;" and is n't that almost equal to a declaration ? The
 
 NANNIE BATES. 227 
 
 old lady often draws a crumpled paper from her pocket, 
 and carefully adjusting her spectacles upon her nose, goes 
 over the manuscript with the forefinger of her right hand, 
 stopping at " For my sake," ai*d pondering the words very 
 seriously. She does n't know how it would do to change 
 her situation at her time of life, although she does not feel 
 a bit older than when she was married to Mr. Kinalden ! 
 She wonders if he, poor dear man ! would rise from his 
 grave if she should ever suffer herself to be called Mrs. 
 Bond ! He used to say that he should not lie peacefully 
 beneath the sod if she were to drop his name for another. 
 She was always afraid of " sperits," and if he should appear 
 to her ! and she crumples the paper up again, and thrusts 
 it hastily into its secret receptacle, and chides herself for 
 forgetting for one moment her buried lord, for the night is 
 coming on, and she is not particularly courageous in the 
 dreamy hours of darkness, and she is not sure but Mr. 
 Kinalden's ghost will punish her for thought as well as deed. 
 Nannie has gone a long time ago. She only staid a 
 moment to get news for the letter, and the old lady was 
 quite alone when she suffered herself to embrace so im 
 portant a subject as good Mr. Bond. The boarders drop in 
 one by one and Mrs. Kinalden's thoughts are concentrated 
 in her cups and saucers, and the hot tea that goes steam 
 ing round the table, and the query whether " Mr. Viets is 
 the gentleman who takes sugar ?" and " if it is Mr. Ballack 
 that does n't take milk ?" and " which of the gentlemen it 
 is that likes both suo;ar and milk f ' and " which that takes
 
 228 NANNIE BATES. 
 
 neither?" And so all her aspirations after the Cuban 
 bachelor are hushed for the present, amid the sober reali 
 ties of her responsible station. It is not very remarkable 
 that she sometimes dreams that it would be very agreeable 
 to make a different arrangement ! To be sure her boarders 
 are as good as other boarders ; but there 's this person 
 does not like beefsteak, and is very fond of mutton chops, 
 and that one can not endure mutton chops, but delights 
 in beefsteak ; and fresh pork is too gross for such a one's 
 appetite, and veal cutlets are disagreeable to Mr. So and So. 
 Graham bread is the peculiar diet of one, and another 
 never touches any thing but dry toast ; and some like 
 pastry, and some puddings ; and what with them all and 
 their likes and dislikes, the poor woman is almost dis 
 tracted with the worriment and care. 
 
 No wonder then that she often sighs to be free from 
 such a bondage ! Her absent lodger never gave her any 
 trouble ; she can see it now that he is away, and she only 
 wishes that his fat merry face would soon show itself again 
 at her table. It would make her quite contented with her 
 station at the big waiter. 
 
 It is a -pity your mind 's on that train, Mrs. Kinalden. 
 Mr. Bond's heart is not made of wax, and is a terribly un- 
 impressible object, so far as the ladies are concerned. There 
 is only one other heart to whose pulsations it has ever re 
 sponded, and that one has ceased to beat. Yours may 
 throb and throb beneath the waist of your dove-colored 
 merino, but his will never answer it, be sure of that !
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 NANNIE wrote such a long letter to Mr. Bond, in her 
 childish, unformed way. She told him every little thing 
 concerning their own household, and the Flins', and Pat's 
 misfortunes, and their ejectment from, and reinstalment in, 
 their attic home ; and she dwelt a great while upon 
 Mrs. Flin's metamorphosis, and upon her own new abode 
 with the Minturns. And the worthy bachelor read it all 
 with as much delight as if it had been his pet-newspaper. 
 Was n't it just what interested him, and he so far away 
 from the spot where all his joys centered alone, and among 
 a strange people ! . What if it was a child's composition 
 was n't that child Nannie Bates ! and had n't he determined 
 to make something of her in the world ! and could n't he 
 see an uncommon degree of intelligence even in that unfin 
 ished epistle ! 
 
 How he frowned when he learned of Mrs. Flin's cruel 
 treatment toward the sick boy and the straitened family ; 
 and how he congratulated himself upon being rid of the 
 woman's importunities in behalf of the precocious Sammy ; 
 and how he laughed at the vision of Jerold Flin treading 
 cat-like over the soft carpets, and sending his jets of liquid
 
 230 NANNIE BATES. 
 
 tobacco all over his ambitious wife's new furniture ! Oh ! 
 there was fun in that childish letter to merry Mr. Bond. 
 
 His landlady was growing amiable ! that was the best of 
 all ; but he guessed the secret of it, and feared it would 
 not prove lasting. " It was n't for nothing, Peter Bond," 
 soliloquized he, " that she was so willing to be burdened 
 with the care of thy favorite puss ! It was n't for nothing 
 that so many goodies were stuffed into thy already crowded 
 valise ! It was n't for nothing that her communications 
 have been so frequent, and contained such tender inquiries 
 after thy health, and such pathetic injunctions to be care 
 ful of thyself !" You must be a simpleton, man, to imagine 
 that a benevolent disposition prompted so many manifesta 
 tions all of a sudden, when the past was so different. 
 " But why not ?" thought he, as his charitable heart sought 
 for a better motive in the woman than selfishness. " Is n't 
 there such a thing as an immediate turning from the evil 
 to the good ? It does not take long to Change the current 
 of one's actions, if one is determined and energetic. But 
 we shall see, we shall see ;" and the good man leaned back 
 in his chair, with his spectacles between his thumb and 
 forefinger, and suffered himself to be carried away into a 
 brighter past. He was not long in forgetting Mr. Kinal- 
 den, and Mrs. Flin, and even his young protegee, and, 
 looking off upon the surging ocean, he dreamed of a 
 distant land where his spirit loved to linger with the soul 
 that was hidden from other eyes. His reveries were very 
 soothing and pleasant, and the people would wonder, as
 
 NANNIE BATES. 231 
 
 they passed through the covered gallery where the old man 
 sat musing, what it could be that imparted such a radiance 
 to his ingenuous and winning face. They could not tell 
 how a true affection may hallow the whole of life, investing 
 it with a secret and mysterious charm. They were ab 
 sorbed in other interests : some had their merchandise out 
 upon the treacherous waters, and their souls were in their 
 ships ; and some had their traffic in a foreign land, and 
 their -hearts went after it; and* some were only pursuing a 
 passing pleasure, with no definite object or plan in existence. 
 
 Oh ! how much they lost of true good, while the loving 
 spirit, unperturbed by the trifles that so deeply affected them, 
 sought its fellow, and with it held a sweet and refining 
 communion. 
 
 It was a great wonderment to Mr. Bond what happiness 
 there could be in crowding together in a saloon, and smok 
 ing, and drinking, and card-playing, and low and boisterous 
 conversation. He forgot that it would be quite impossible 
 for some minds to think, and that such need a continual 
 excitement to make the hours endurable. 
 
 Tell them to walk down upon the wondrous beach, and 
 interest themselves in the beauties of a sublime nature, or to 
 sit gazing upward with delight at a heavenly creation, or to 
 look within themselves and strive after a higher and more 
 perfect development, and how many would not turn sneer- 
 ingly away, and empty the brimming glass, or light a fresh 
 cigar, or begin a new game at faro, with the evident feeling 
 that their own ideas of pleasure were far before your un 
 fashionable and strange notions.
 
 
 - CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 WHAT with Nannie's wages, and her own work, and 
 Pat's board, besides. an occasional perquisite from their 
 kind friend, Mrs. Bates was quite looking up in the world. 
 She had been able to cover the floor with a nice list carpet, 
 and to add a few comfortable and pretty articles of furni 
 ture from time to time, so that the little family began to 
 feel that their humble abode was the most luxurious place 
 they had ever seen. Their hearts were so filled with 
 gratitude for even these homely comforts, that there was 
 no room in them for envious feelings toward those who 
 were possessd of more bounteous gifts. A little stand by 
 the window now held Nannie's plants, that were ever green 
 and flourishing, and there was scarcely a week but some 
 sweet bud peeped out from the fresh leaves of the one, or 
 pure blossom burst forth from the other to greet them. 
 The big Bible occupied its accustomed place in the corner, 
 and a couple of neat shelves, the work of Pat's ingenuity, 
 held the few books and little ornaments that had been ac 
 cumulating since their good fortune commenced. Winnie's 
 cradle was put away in her mother's bed-room with the 
 rag-baby still lying beneath the small counterpane, and in
 
 NANNIE BATES. 233 
 
 its place was Pat's couch newly covered with a gay flowejed 
 chintz. A bright oil-cloth was nailed beneath the stove, 
 and in the center of the room stood a table, around which 
 was gathered a loving trio every evening when Nannie 
 could be spared from her little charge. 
 
 Mrs. Minturn's house, to be sure, was grand and mag 
 nificent, and abounded in every thing that was costly and 
 elegant, and yet, to Nannie, the square attic room with its 
 modest apurtenances was far more beautiful and attractive. 
 The eye of a stranger could see only the bare objects that 
 served to fill the vacant nooks; but the heart's strong 
 affections, and the devotion that counts nothing a toil that 
 can bring blessings to another, and the motives of love and 
 purity that dictated this or that offering, were the hidden 
 associations that manifested themselves to Nannie's vision 
 and made their inestimable value, so that could she have 
 chosen between them and the wealth of her employers, she 
 would gladly have taken the simple home. 
 
 Was n't it here that peace had first spread its soft wings 
 to shelter her long-time troubled being ! Was it not here 
 that she had learned what it was to be smiled upon and 
 beloved ; and was it not hallowed to her by the visits of 
 her kind friend and the noble Pat ; and, more than all, was 
 it not consecrated by the footsteps of the death angel that 
 came for dear little Winnie ? Oh ! there is no space 
 there for a murmuring, grasping spirit, to take the good 
 gifts handed out by a wise and loving father, and to use 
 them with a grateful feeling is all that the righteous poor
 
 234 NANNIE BATES. 
 
 can wish. Even in their lowliness are they often the 
 objects of envy to the harassed and care-ridden rich, who 
 would willingly forego all their superfluous gains for one 
 hour of contented ease. 
 
 Mrs. Minturn went frequently to Nannie's home when 
 the girl took little Dora out for a walk, for she wished to 
 accustom her child to the sight of the various conditions of 
 life, so that if she were spared to womanhood she might 
 not be so far removed from her fellow-creatures as to 
 hesitate to enter any abode, however humble, and to 
 minister to the needy ; and the gentle lady sat with her 
 silken robes falling over the home-spun carpet, and her 
 soft features exposed to the glare and steam of that com 
 mon room, looking with a happy heart upon the joyous 
 group before her. The poor widow, with her gown of 
 print and checked apron, laid down her weary needle to 
 attend to the sweet voice that ever sounded so soothingly 
 in her ear, and the delighted child shook its rough toys, 
 holding them up to the view, first of one, and then the 
 other, and laughing aloud in her boisterous glee.
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 MR. BOND was coming home ! the glad news was in 
 Nannie's hand, and he was even then bounding over the 
 waters toward his lowly friends. 
 
 The room looked very sunny that morning, and the 
 hearts of the expectant ones danced for joy. He would 
 be there the next week, and they must all be there to meet 
 him on Friday that seemed so like a reality, to name the 
 very day. Pat could request a holiday of his employers, 
 and, as for Mrs. Minturn, she was sure to participate in all 
 of Nannie's pleasures, and would be ready with the per 
 mission to spend the important day at her mother's. The 
 greatest trouble was the intervening hours ; how could 
 they be .comfortably disposed of! they had duties enough 
 to perform, and yet the time went slowly and wearily ; but 
 it had an end, and a happy one for the kind face was 
 before them, as fat and merry and amiable as ever, and the 
 immense corporosity moved about the room with as much 
 gravity as so jolly a person was capable of. Nobody 
 would have suspected that he had ever been ill, or that the 
 shadow of a sorrow had ever troubled him. Seated beside 
 the window with the June air playing blandly upon his
 
 236 NANNIE BATES. 
 
 forehead, lie congratulated himself that he was once more 
 among his friends. What if they were humble and poor ! 
 there was a depth and richness in their love for him that 
 neither comes of station nor wealth, and it sunk soothingly 
 and gratefully into his glad heart, making it fruitful in a 
 pure joy. 
 
 " It is not quite so pleasant bouncing up and down at the 
 will of the angry waves, Nannie," said he, " as to sit quietly 
 in this lolling-chair with your friends all about you, I can 
 tell you, my girl !" and he looked at Nannie with a twinkle 
 and a laugh, as if to say, " I 'm well out of it, though. 
 The ocean does n't have any mercy on a body's bones, but 
 tosses you about as if you were an India-rubber ball made 
 on purpose ;" added he, bursting into a hearty roar as he 
 caught Mrs. Bates' eye fastened upon his rotund pro 
 portions, as if to ascertain were the bones were. " Oh ! 
 well, my good woman," continued he, "even a porpoise 
 could n't stand the bumping and thumping that we poor 
 mortals are subject to when we trust ourselves on ship 
 board. Why, I solemnly protest that* I 've been pitched 
 from my berth, many a time, quite across the cabin into 
 my neighbor's and back again, in a trice, and that without 
 ceremony, too !" 
 
 The old gentleman did not seem very indignant, but 
 smiled upon his auditors as placidly as if there had been 
 nothing but calm on his homeward journey, and he did not 
 even mind their merriment as they pictured to themselves 
 his robust figure bounding about like a foot-ball.
 
 NANNIE BATES. 237 
 
 You are in the right of it, Mr. Bond. If you are the 
 object of an innocent glee, it is better to join in the merry 
 laugh, rather than to don a severe and offended dignity. 
 It is quite a funny thought, though, that, amid such pitiless 
 peltings you should escape with not even the slightest im 
 pression upon your fleshless bones! well, there's some 
 comfort in being fat, you have that to console you. He 
 does n't look as if he ever needed to be consoled, but I can 
 tell you that even Mr. Bond is not wholly exempt from the 
 annoyances and trials of life ! He has learned how to 
 make the best of every thing, and that is more than half 
 toward averting a trouble. Put a cheerful face upon the 
 matter, it will but make it worse to fret and frown and keep 
 your neighbors uncomfortable about it, besides working 
 yourself into a teapot ! Mr. Bond crowded all the evils 
 down into the deepest corner of his heart and turned the 
 key upon them, and that was the end of them. Nobody 
 ever got hold of and magnified them, until he felt that they 
 were too painful for any mortal to bear, for he kept them 
 so close that they had not room to breathe, and so suffo 
 cated, and he knew nothing more about them. 
 
 It was a way of Mr. Bond's there, could n't every body 
 do it there 's a certain process to go through before one 
 can learn, and he had tried it thoroughly, and was really a 
 proficient in the thing. It is n't every body that cares to 
 learn it is very pleasant to draw a friend into a corner and 
 pour into a willing and sympathizing ear all that affects 
 one deprossingly, but it is ^a question whether either is
 
 238 NANNIE BATES. 
 
 benefited by the confidence the gloom may not only 
 be deepened upon your own face, but it may reflect itself 
 upon the countenance before you also. Better imitate the 
 amiable and wise bachelor, and impart nothing but that 
 which will bring a bright gleam with it.
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 * 
 
 MBS. KINALDEN was in a terrible flutter. Her lodger's 
 "traps" had come, and were well disposed in his silent 
 room ; she had every thing in order to receive him. The 
 light and the sun were admitted into the long-time dark 
 ened space, and puss was curled up upon the rug as if she 
 had never known another resting-place. The dove-colored 
 merino went up and down the stairs, and the clean cap- 
 border flew backward with every agitated movement. 
 
 " It was very strange that he did n't come ! Had n't the 
 boat been in since ten o'clock in the morning ? so the 
 truckman told her, and here were the hands at two in the 
 afternoon ! There was no accounting for it after all that 
 had passed between them!" However, it couldn't be 
 helped, and as the hour of three struck, and no Mr. Bond 
 appeared, the despairing woman betook herself to her 
 green moreen rocking-chair, and, what else could she do ? 
 wept. Yes, wept ! and while the red silk handkerchief 
 hid her disappointed face, a heavy step sounded in the 
 hall, and a familiar voice came through the half-open door 
 of the little parlor. " Heigh-ho ! what 's the matter here ? 
 I thought I 'd escaped the terrors of the briny deep ; but 
 bless my heart ! here I am in the midst of it again !" and
 
 240 NANNIE BATES. 
 
 Mr. Bond's plump hand was extended to greet his land 
 lady, who quickly wiped away the offending drops, and 
 grew calm. " Couldn't come before, madam," said he, in 
 reply to her question as to what had detained him so long. 
 " Had to go first and see how Nannie and Pat got on, you 
 know !" That was rather overwhelming so inconsistent 
 with " My dear Mrs. Kinalden." 
 
 The shocked widow looked indignant and muttered 
 something about " professions of regard," and " affectionate 
 epistles," etc. ; but it was all lost upon the obtuse man who 
 talked on, about what especially concerned him, and then 
 went gleefully up the stairs. 
 
 What wonder if his heart did beat quicker as his hand 
 touched the knob of his room-door ! Is n't it like meeting 
 a dear friend, after a long absence, to cross the threshold 
 of a cherished locality? The very inanimate things 
 seemed invested with a silent joy at his return, and the 
 face from the portrait beamed out a glad welcome. There 
 are tears in the bachelor's eyes as they meet the blue orbs 
 so fondly fastened upon him, for his thoughts are upon the 
 gentle and confiding embrace that was once his. Woo 
 unto you, Mrs. Kinalden ! If there were a single impreg 
 nable spot in the good man's bosom, that tear would never 
 have found its birth. 
 
 Puss, awakened by the heavy foot-falls, leaps about her 
 master's legs, and gives a spring into his narrow lap, as he 
 takes his chair, maintaining her precarious position by 
 fastening her claws tightly in his broadcloth, to the no
 
 NANNIE BATES. 241 
 
 small danger of the limbs beneath, and purrs her perfect 
 satisfaction. Oh ! it 's a good thing to get home ! There 's 
 not so comfortable a place on the face of the earth, as the 
 spot we call our own, with the objects that meet our daily 
 touch strewn all about in their accustomed places. It 's a 
 pleasant thing to go out into the wide world too, and 
 gather up a noble stock of incidents and experience, and 
 thoughts, to expand the ideas that get pent-up and con 
 tracted by a narrow and confined position ; but it is far 
 better to turn about with one's face toward the dearer haunts 
 and the best loved friends, and the familiar pleasures ! 
 
 So thought the weary old man, as he sat in his big arm 
 chair, while his vision roved from one thing to another in 
 his cosey room, and the warm breath of his favorite puss 
 touched his hand. 
 
 It was all like a dream to him the path he had 
 trodden upon the deep, and the wanderings amid tropical 
 scenes, and the transition from place to place within the last 
 few months ! He arose and looked into the garden be 
 low. When he had left, a white covering was spread over 
 every thing and the sun's rays fell coldly upon snow and 
 ice. -Novf there was fresh foliage upon trees and shrubs, 
 and the perfume from newly-blown roses came up to greet 
 his willing senses, and the little girls were playing under 
 the thick shade. They looked up with a merry shout, as 
 a shower of bon-bons fell upon their heads, and clapped 
 their hands for very rapture, as the happy face peered out 
 upon them through the half-closed blinds. 
 11
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 CAPTAIN FLIN and his wife are coining down the street 
 in full gala attire. The pipe has vanished, but the card- 
 case is still conspicuous amid the folds of a stiffly-starched 
 embroidered handkerchief. They have been to see the 
 Airlys, and have posted themselves up in all their affairs, 
 and they are now en route to return the numerous visits that 
 have been paid to their new house and furniture. If that 
 could have been put upon rollers and trundled about to 
 drop its card, it would have been quite an acceptable dep 
 uty, and would have saved a world of embarrassment to 
 the unsophisticated couple. 
 
 There 's a worthy man upon the walk at a short distance 
 from them. He shuffles along with his heavy gait and 
 home-spun dress, but there is a good honest frankness in 
 his face that commends him to the passers-by. He has 
 almost reached them, and is about to give some token of 
 recognition, when they whisk across the street with averted 
 looks. Did n't I tell you so, Captain Flin ? The twelve 
 month lacks a week, and Jerry Doolan has gone to his 
 home with downcast mien and a heavy heart, because his 
 old friend has purposely avoided him. Don't I know some- 

 
 BATES. 243 
 
 thing of human nature, and how contaminating heaped-up 
 coppers are ? It is not every body that will bear even a 
 moderate degree of wealth, particularly among those who 
 have no other foundation to build their consequence upon. 
 You are not wholly given over yet, Captain Flin, for there 
 are evidences of self-accusings in your confession. " I 'm 
 sorry we cut poor Jerry, wife! It wouldn't hurt us -to 
 speak to him !" You '11 come right again, man ; we 're 
 sure of that. Mrs. Flin thinks it is well enough to show 
 Jerry that their position in life is different from what it 
 used to be, and she is afraid that if she condescends to no 
 tice him, even casually, it will be an excuse for him to send 
 Duggy up to play with Sammy ; and is n't she trying as 
 hard as she can to make Sammy forgetful of the past, and 
 mindful only of their present exaltation ! The Captain 
 acknowledges that it is a good idea to try to make some 
 thing of Sammy, but he feels as if he is himself rather too 
 old to remodel into a polished gentleman, after so long a 
 probation of hardening and roughening too. He considers 
 it a real trial to sit by with his great hands hanging by his 
 side, while his wife talks to her grand acquaintances with a 
 volubility that he never before imagined her possessed of; 
 and he only misses still more the quid that used to keep his 
 own tongue occupied. It is such a relief when the last call 
 is made, and their steps are bent toward their own door. 
 Mrs. Flin goes to her room to divest herself of some of her 
 superfluous finery, and her husband quietly takes the op 
 portunity to don his shaggy coat and light his pipe, and
 
 244 NANNIE BATES. 
 
 while she fancies him safe within their own walls, he is 
 striding swiftly toward Jerry Doolan's to tell him what an 
 old fool he made of himself in the morning, and to remove 
 the heaviness from his friend's heart by an hour of familiar 
 chat. 
 
 " Fact is, Jerry," says he, " wife may as well hang up her 
 fiddle about me ; can't make a whistle out of a pig's tail, 
 man, I tell ye ! She may fuss up the young 'un as much 
 as she 's a mind to, but it '11 be labor lost over an old chap 
 like me. I feel more at home down here in the old place, 
 and a plaguy sight more comfortable, than I do with all the 
 nice fixins she 's got together up yonder ; and I '11 tell 
 you what it is, Jerry, we '11 have many a smoke and talk 
 yet, while the women folks do up their callin'. I 've been 
 once, and that 's once too many, and it will take a taut pull 
 to get me at that business again ;" and the old sailor puffed 
 away at his pipe, and congratulated himself in his firm 
 resolution not to be whiffled about so easily as heretofore 
 by his wife's ambitious whims. 
 
 A pretty time there was of it, though, when he reached 
 home again, and Mrs. Flin pumped out of him where he 
 had been. " It 's all of no use, Jerold Flin," said she, " for 
 me to be a strivin' and a strivin' to keep up the honor of 
 the house, and you continually running back to your low 
 associates." But seeing that her husband was not much 
 affected by any of her appeals she turned her aspirations 
 to the boy, whose life she almost teased out with her in 
 junctions not to do this, for James Airly did n't, and to be
 
 NANNIE BATES. 245 
 
 sure to do that, because James Airly did. You need not 
 exert yourself, Mrs. Flin, the boy 's a " chip of the old 
 block," and you can not make him otherwise. If you '11 
 only try to implant within him good principles, and teach 
 him that kindness of heart that always results in a true 
 courtesy, it will benefit him more than all the fashionable 
 notions you can gather from the external example of your 
 neighbor Airly's children, I can assure you. This life is too 
 noble and too dignified to be frittered away in vain attempts 
 after a worthless outside. There is a genuine refinement 
 and polish that comes from a strict adherence to the golden 
 rule ; this is what I would have you impress upon Master 
 Sammy.
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 " How d' ye do, Nannie ?" said young Flin, as be met the 
 girl walking with Dora, Sammy was on his way to school 
 with his satchel on his arm, and could only stop a minute ; 
 but he always did like Nannie Bates, and he was glad to 
 get an opportunity to tell her that he would see her some 
 times if his mother would let him go down to the old 
 house. " You see I have to study very hard, now," said 
 he, with a disdainful toss of his books to the walk ; " and I 
 don't love it, Nannie, but mother says she wants me to be 
 a great man one of these days, and that 's the way to bring . 
 it about. I don't see though how it will do it, if I study 
 all my life and don't learn any thing !" 
 
 " But," said Nannie, " you ought to try to improve since 
 you have the means to get a good education ; I wish 
 mother was rich enough to send me to school all the 
 time !" and she took the satchel and looked over the books 
 with a wistful air, while Sammy amused himself with the 
 child. 
 
 " There 's the old bell," said he, as the first faint tones 
 came gratingly to his ear, " and I suppose I must go ; I 'm 
 sure I 'd rather play than sit bending over my desk all day,
 
 NANNIE BATES. 247 
 
 but good-by, Nannie, when I 'm bigger I '11 come to see 
 you as often as I 've a mind ;" and away he ran, while 
 Nannie stood looking after him and wishing for the veiy 
 privilege that he spurned. 
 
 It would have done her some good, but Mr. Bond 
 thought " she knew enough already. She could read, write, 
 and cipher, and did n't she know Pilgrim's Progress from 
 beginning to end ; that was all he had ever learned, and 
 had n't he gone through life well enough so far !" 
 
 You are a nice good-hearted jolly old man, Peter Bond, 
 and your merry happy face and amiable temper will com 
 pensate for any deficiency in intellectual attainment ; but 
 Nannie Bates has a craving mind, and it must have 
 nourishment. You don't know how early she is out of her 
 bed, stowed away in Mrs. Minturn's attic with a book in 
 her hand, nor how many pages she devours while nursing 
 Dora. She does not neglect her little charge, but invents 
 a thousand ways to keep her pleased and contented, while 
 she gleans a little more knowledge every day. It's as 
 tonishing how much the girl has gained already, and she 
 has a double motive in it, too ; there 's another mind wait 
 ing to have it imparted, and the two expand, night after 
 night, as they give their gathered ideas to each other in 
 the one short hour. It 's not much time, but it accumu 
 lates, in one year, thirty days ! think of it ! Supposing it 
 were spent in foolish talking and jesting, or in parading 
 the walks with the other boys and girl! there would 
 be thirty days wasted, and two minds robbed, and two
 
 248 NANNIE BATES. 
 
 intelligent faces despoiled of their chief attractions. Pat 
 has grown quite fine-looking since the obtuse look has 
 given place to such a sensible inquiring expression, and a 
 soul speaks out from Nannie's eyes now that she bestows 
 more culture upon the 'mental part. 
 
 You 're right, Mr. Bond. It is not necessary for Nannie 
 Bates to go to school ! she will come out quite as bright as 
 thousands who are kept at their books by a rod over 
 their backs. She can not help acquiring, wherever she is ! 
 She appears very modest and very attentive to the child as 
 she stands in the drawing-room of her mistress while Dora 
 is exhibiting to the many guests ; but her ear is becoming 
 accustomed to a pure language, and her imitative powers 
 soon adopt it. She will make a very lady-like little wife 
 for somebody ! Pat sees it, and does what he can to keep 
 up with her. There'll be a struggle for her, though. 
 Mike Dugan goes to Mrs. Minturn's very often, and when 
 ever Nannie is sent to the kitchen on any mission there 's 
 a paper of candy for her, or a kind pleasant word, or 
 a fond look, and she begins to think Mike a very nice sort 
 of lad ; when Pat finds how things are going, " he does n't 
 think he would put himself in Mike Dugan's way if he 
 were Nannie ! He 's a great rough, red-headed, ugly fel 
 low, and would n't make much of a husband for any girl !" 
 
 Nannie is n't thinking of husbands, and only wonders 
 why Pat dislikes Mike so much when he is as kind to her 
 as a brother would be. She does n't think him ugly at all. 
 She remembers that he has red hair. It does n't strike
 
 NANNIE BATES. 249 
 
 her that Pat's is, if possible, a shade more fiery. She has 
 never thought of comparing them, Mike is a clever fellow, 
 and all the girls like him ; but Pat, is Pat, and she would 
 not have him like any body else for all the world ! 
 11*
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 MRS. KINALDEN'S face has grown long again, and the 
 sour look has returned. It is strange what a gutta-percha 
 capacity it has ! Not so very strange though since she has 
 not attended to the direction to purge herself from all in 
 ternal sources of disquiet. 
 
 There is n't a person in the world that could maintain 
 an equable temperament and expression, if every little out 
 ward vexation were suffered to penetrate him. Mrs. 
 Kinalden has never learned to look within for her chief 
 pleasure and enjoyment. Poor soul ! it is little she would 
 find to attract her in its present aspect, and that is the 
 reason she does no! care to enter the recesses of her heart ; 
 but depends upon the things that surround her for her de 
 light ; and they can not but fail to bring her any peace. 
 If she would only consent to sweep and garnish the hidden 
 chambers, and adorn them with the beauteous and goodly 
 things which all may possess, she would find it very com 
 forting to withdraw from other things, and spend her 
 sweetest moments there, and the bright cheerful expression 
 would be permanent then. 
 
 It is not easy to take this advice, however, and we give
 
 NANNIE BATES. 251 
 
 the landlady up as a hopeless case. Mr. Bond is the only 
 person whose arguments weigh any thing with her, and he, 
 indifferent man, does not even perceive his influence ; but 
 goes about his own business, as if there were no disconso 
 late widow pining away her desolate being for him. The 
 boarders recognize the fact, and they enjoy the fun, and 
 flatter her into the belief that the bachelor is willin', but 
 too diffident to propose, and they tell her that she must not 
 be shy that she can reveal the state of her feelings in a 
 delicate way and, when they have eveiy thing in a right 
 train, they withdraw from the little parlor, as Mr. Bond 
 comes in for a moment's conversation with the old lady. 
 She is terribly perturbed now that the moment has really 
 come, and the innocent man seeing her distress, and fear 
 ing that some serious evil has happened to occasion it, 
 begs her to tell him what troubles her, assuring her of his 
 sympathy and aid. He even places a chair near her, and 
 seats himself so close to her that his hand rests upon the 
 arm of the sofa where she is sitting. 
 
 She loses her fear then, and says, in a tremulous tone, 
 she has been thinking of Mr. Kinalden. Mr. Bond appre 
 ciates that. Is not there a kindred spirit in his own 
 thoughts every moment of his life ? Mrs. Kinalden begins 
 to rise in his estimation, and he chides himself for ever 
 imagining her untrue to her husband's memory ; so he 
 sighs, and listens as she goes on to say that she used to 
 have scruples about throwing off her widowhood ; but her 
 days are very lonely, and she might be induced *to change
 
 252 NANNIE BATES. 
 
 her mind. Mr. Bond puts her down a peg again ; but 
 feeling that he must congratulate her if she has really de 
 termined to marry, he tells her he is really very happy ! 
 and this encourages her to speak openly of him as the 
 object of her affectionate designs. 
 
 There is a suppressed giggle in an adjoining room as 
 the quick tread of the bachelor is heard upon the stairs ; 
 but he does not feel like laughing. He is shocked ! he is 
 indignant, that any one should ever dream of his being 
 faithless to his early love ! 
 
 How he came face to face with the cherished portrait, 
 he does not know ! That something strange has occurred 
 he is sure ; yet he stands there in his bewildered mood, a 
 long, long time, wondering whether he is in or out of the 
 body, and why Betty Lathrop could not have been spared 
 to cheer his declining years ? What ! Peter Bond is not 
 sad! 
 
 Is n't it enough to depress any one to be surprised by 
 such a novel and unwelcome announcement when his own 
 heart is dead to all but the one beloved ? 
 
 Of course Mr. Bond could not remain in Mrs. Kinal- 
 den's house after this, and so he took a room in the same 
 house with his young friends, and Nannie's mother went 
 in every day to keep it in order, and it soon grew to be as 
 dear as the old spot, for the same furniture was there, and 
 the same face upon the canvas.
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 \ 
 
 THE good man can now make one of the party that 
 assembles every evening in the pleasant attic. He has not 
 the distance to keep him away, nor the weather, nor a 
 feeble state of health, and right glad he is that every ob 
 stacle to so welcome a privilege is removed. A stranger, 
 used to the polish and luxury of a different sphere, would 
 wonder how such content and happiness could reign amid 
 apparent lowliness and effort, for although things present a 
 neat and thrifty aspect in the little room, it is evident, that 
 much toil is necessaiy in order to maintain even this degree 
 of prosperity. The busy fingers of the mother are ever 
 engaged with the needle, and the child is separated from her 
 home by a needful economy; yet there is a real joy in every 
 moment spent together, which might well excite the envy 
 as well as the curiosity of a spectator. People are so long 
 a time learning that harmony is of more value in a house 
 hold than thousands of gold or silver that " a dinner of 
 herbs, where love is, is better than the stalled ox and hatred 
 therewith." Perhaps if they could look in upon some of 
 their wealthy neighbors, who are rich in every thing but 
 the blessed element that money can not purchase, and then
 
 254 NANNIE BATES. 
 
 return to the liumble place that overfloweth with love and 
 peace, they would be ready to acknowledge wherein true 
 happiness consists, and to search for it with as much ardor 
 as they now do for an increased treasury or a higher sta 
 tion. Mrs. Bates never troubled herself as to who was 
 better off than she in point of tangible good, but she per 
 fectly reveled in the sunny atmosphere of her pleasant 
 home, endeavoring so to fix its present blessedness that no 
 outward vicissitudes would be able to affect it. 
 
 She had no verbal eloquence with which to commend a 
 contented and glad disposition to the members of her 
 household, but her example was more forcible than precept, 
 and there needed no other adviser. It was not always so ; 
 Nannie can look back to a sorrowful period, when even the 
 hope-light was hidden from them, and they all feel that the 
 leaven of the kind, and Christian, and benevolent heart has 
 exercised its changing and salutary power among them. 
 
 Well may you look about upon the group before you 
 with a placid feeling, Peter Bond. Is n't it worth a few 
 more years severance from the spirit that awaiteth thee 
 elsewhere, to see so noble a work the result of thy instru 
 mentality ? It was a strange Providence to thee that 
 raised thee up from the jaws of death and set thee upon 
 thy strong feet again ; but to question its wisdom was per 
 fect folly that thou feelest now as thy usefulness becomes 
 apparent even to thy humility. 
 
 Nannie wonders what subject is agitating her friend, as 
 his face grows thoughtful and serious ; but she does not in-
 
 NANNIE BATES. 255 
 
 terrupt his meditations, for she has many a moment of 
 quiet reflection that she would n't have broken for all the 
 world, so she keeps very still until her hour has expired, 
 and then says " good-night," so gently that he is not dis 
 turbed. 
 
 Mr. Bond goes to his room, with puss sauntering after, 
 and Mrs. Bates indulges herself in a cat -nap in her chair, 
 while Pat is enjoying the moonlight walk to Mrs. Minturn's 
 with Nannie. He is as happy as happy can be until they 
 reach the house, and Mike Dugan confronts them with a 
 gift for Nannie. It 's all spoiled now ! Pat frowns upon 
 Mike, and making a gruff adieu to Nannie, walks back 
 again, with an uncomfortable feeling as if all the world is 
 against him ; and Nannie puts the unopened parcel upon 
 the table, and cries herself asleep, with Pat's daguerreotype 
 under her pillow and his rough adieu in her heart. 
 
 Poor children ! it 's the same the world over smiles and 
 tears, and smiles again ; heart-breakings and heart-mend 
 ings ; quarrels and reconciliations. There 's no help for it ; 
 you must have your own experience !
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 MIKE, with his hands in his pockets, strolls homeward, 
 whistling a merry tune as he thinks of the smile upon the 
 young face that haunts him. He does not fancy there will 
 be much difficulty in winning Nannie Bates. "All the 
 girls like him, and why should n't she ?" Mike has a tol 
 erable favorable opinion of himself. lie keeps a livery- 
 stable in street, and takes the girls out to drive, and 
 
 he flourishes his whip, and trots his fast horses along the 
 roads with the best of them. There is a bravado sort of 
 way about him that tells among his companions, who look 
 up to him with a certain degree of veneratio'n, as a being 
 of rather a superior order to themselves. He twists his 
 red hair over a hot iron till it stands up all about his head 
 in little bits of curls ; and he has grown a flaming mus 
 tache that is really quite killing among his female acquaint 
 ances. No wonder he is so easy concerning Nannie Bates ! 
 He could n't Imagine that Pat Rourke, with his uncouth 
 ways and brusque appearance could presume to rival him 
 in her heart ! So he enters the stable with a joyous spring, 
 and goes the rounds cheerfully, patting Berk's back, and
 
 NANNIE BATES. 257 
 
 speaking pleasantly to Roscoe, and giving an ear of corn to 
 Arab, and a little more hay to all. 
 
 There 's no doubt of his supremacy there the grateful 
 animals neigh, and paw, and rub their noses fondly upon 
 his shoulder as he passes fearlessly around them. If Nan 
 nie could see his devotion to the helpless and dumb it 
 would awaken within her a far deeper regard than the 
 combined results of curling-tongs and pomatum, or the 
 outward flourish and glitter of his equestrian establishment. 
 
 Mike has a tender heart ; any body can see that who 
 visits his nice stables, and looks upon the plump, well- 
 cared-for horses. He has a spice of vanity ; the girls are 
 responsible, in a measure, for this, for they have flattered 
 him until he begins to think he may be good enough for 
 any of them ; but he only thinks of Nannie Bates as a fit 
 and desirable companion for him, and he works diligently 
 to get the means to buy them a home. Pat strives, 
 with the same end constantly in view, and Nannie smiles 
 on them both with her winning, happy face, never dream 
 ing herself the motive-power to such untiring energy. 
 She wonders why Pat puts so much of his earnings in the 
 savings' bank, contenting himself with his old suit, which 
 has grown quite rusty from. such continual wear; and when 
 Mike whispers her, in 'a sly way, that he is trying to get a 
 home to offer a certain fine girl that he wants for a wife, 
 Nannie shakes her finger witchingly at Biddy, as if to say, 
 " I Ve found you out now." Mike does not relish her ob- 
 tuseness, but she seems so timid and shrinking, that he is
 
 258 NANNIE BATES. 
 
 backward about speaking his sentiments plainly. Besides, 
 be bas a real affection for her, and that always brings a 
 certain reserve with it. What in the world is he to do ? 
 That rascally Pat has such a decided advantage in seeing 
 her every day, and he can see that he has a great deal of 
 influence over her. He does not really think she can hesi 
 tate between them, for Pat is so rough in his dress, and 
 has such red hair, and straight at that ; and Mike pushes 
 his fingers through the bright curls, and gives another look 
 at himself in the little mirror that hangs in his room in the 
 stable. The self-complacency melts away, as the object be 
 comes dearer, and there is a slight fear that some obstacle 
 may spring up between him and his hopes. He '11 risk but 
 he can overcome it, though, but it would be pleasanter to 
 have the way smooth and easy. There 's Molly Ryan 
 would give her right hand for him, and Katie Doyle says 
 he 's the only boy she will ever marry, and Helen Dhue 
 left her last place because the mistress would not permit 
 him to stay later than ten o'clock when he went to see her. 
 " Oh ! there were girls enough ready !" and he snapped his 
 fingers at the willing ones that Avere in his mind, and dwelt 
 yearningly upon the doubtful and uncertain. There 's noth 
 ing strange in that eveiy body does so.
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 TIME goes very fleetly where there is a real and substan 
 tial joy, a happiness that mocks all outward changes. It 
 was thus in the humble home of Nannie Bates' mother, 
 and also in the magnificent abode of the Minturn's, whose 
 hearts were untarnished by the constant in-pouring of a 
 lavish opulence. 
 
 Four years had elapsed since Nannie found shelter under 
 that pleasant roof, and little Dora had learned to cling to 
 her with an unwonted affection. Mrs. Minturn, too, had 
 such a perfect confidence in the young nurse, and could 
 trust the child to her care and love, as if she were a fond 
 sister. She knows that Dora holds the dead Winnie's 
 place in the warm heart, and that no word of bitterness 
 or touch of anger can ever proceed from the faithful girl. 
 She has just been watching them at play upon the walk, 
 and has noticed Nannie's patience, at some petulant act of 
 the child, and she is rejoicing in the treasure she possesses 
 in Nannie, when Mrs. Bates requests to see her. She has 
 come to take Nannie home. Mr. Bond is ill again, and the 
 girl is needed to nurse him. She grieves very much that 
 she is obliged to tear her from so nice a home ; but the
 
 260 NANNIE BATES. 
 
 good man is entitled to her grateful services, and she has 
 no alternative. Her own hands are ready and glad to 
 wait upon the sick man, but he says " bring Nannie ;" and 
 she can not tell him no. 
 
 So the nurse must go ; and she cries herself almost ill 
 by the side of the sweet child, whose arm is still around 
 her neck in its unconscious slumbers. It seems quite like 
 laying Winnie away again, to turn from the little one that 
 had so long been as her own. There is a duty in it, -how 
 ever, and she sees it too plainly to try to evade it, so she 
 disengages herself softly from the clinging arm, and kissing 
 the little placid face, goes down to the kitchen to see Mike, 
 who had sent up expressly for her. She had not the heart 
 to refuse, when he had always been so kind to her, and 
 perhaps she would not soon meet him again to thank him, 
 for she knew Pat would prevent it if he could. Mike pre 
 tended not to notice her down-cast looks, although he did 
 perceive that something had occurred to sadden her, and 
 he had a strong desire to comfort her. If it had been one 
 of his horses in trouble, there would have been no difficulty 
 in providing a remedy ; but Nannie Bates was quite an 
 other thing ; and the more he tried to find a solace, the 
 more at a loss was he. Biddy had gone out on an errand, 
 and all the other servants were absent, and he felt that it 
 might be a good time to tell Nannie who it was that he 
 was getting a house for ; but the words stuck by the way, 
 and it was in vain to try to force them out, they would not 
 come at all.
 
 NANNIE BATES. 261 
 
 Nannie looked at him in wonder, and almost in affright 
 as lie clutched at his blazing head in the very desperation 
 of his feelings, and she could not account for the difference 
 in his demeanor. ^ Mike was usually such a merry good 
 companion. Perhaps it was herself that scattered her sad 
 ness and dullness all about her ; or was Mike sick ? She 
 ventured to ask him this. 
 
 " No yes no, he was n't sick ; he thought perhaps he 
 was n't so well as he was ; but he guessed he 'd feel better 
 by 'm by ; he did n't know what ailed him !" 
 
 Nannie told him she was to leave for home in the morn 
 ing, and she did not know how long it would be before 
 she should see him again, and she expressed her kind feel 
 ings toward him, and her appreciation of all that he had 
 done for her; and she gave. him a little heart made of 
 bright silks, and stuck all round with pins, as a parting 
 memento. It was not coquetish in her, for she had too 
 much honest simplicity for that ; but Mike was embold 
 ened by it to move his seat from the other side of the room 
 to the end of the table where she sat weaving a cord 
 chain, and he had just taken up the work to look at it, 
 when Pat came blustering in. He had seen Mike through 
 the window, and his manner as he spoke to Nannie, was 
 hurried and excited, and betrayed a tinge of anger. Nan 
 nie was as pleasant as ever, though sad at her approach 
 ing separation from Dora, and her gentle mistress ; and 
 she tried to draw the lads into an amicable conversation. 
 It was all in vain on Pat's side though ; and both were so
 
 262 NANNIE BATES. 
 
 strange and still that it was growing very uncomfortable 
 for them all, and when Biddy and one of the other servants 
 came in, Nannie took her work and left the room with a 
 faint good night to both the discomfited youths. 
 
 " Tell mother I '11 be home early, Pat," said she, as she 
 passed him on her way to the door. 
 
 Mike arose and followed her into the basement hall, and 
 handed her a parcel, which his timidity had thus far pre 
 vented his offering ; and he so far overcame his bashful- 
 ness, as to tell her he should go for her to ride Avith him 
 sometime. 
 
 " Not as you know of !" said Pat to himself, as he over 
 heard the lad's plans, " it '11 be many a day before Nannie 
 Bates sits beside Mike Dugan, I'm thinking!' 1 and he 
 rushed past the couple like a-madman, and hastened down 
 the street, never stopping until he reached the attic room. 
 
 Then sinking into a chair by the window, he gazed out 
 upon the bay whose waves murmured and foamed in the 
 freshening breeze a fit emblem of his agitated mood ! 
 "It's well," thought he, "that I didn't touch him; there 
 might have been consequences ! and 'tis better that I came 
 directly home !" 
 
 There was not much rest for Pat that night ! Every 
 tune he lost himself; there were visions of a young girl 
 dashing along the streets, with Mike Dugan holding the 
 reins of a restive horse, and as he attempted to reach the 
 maiden, she would smile sweetly upon her companion, and 
 turn from him with a contemptuous expression. Poor
 
 NANNIE BATES. 263 
 
 Pat ! What a world of useless sighing and trouble ! 
 Nannie sits meantime in her chamber working upon the 
 chain for a surprise to thee on the morrow, and her heart's 
 honest love is inwoven with every knot ; until there is not 
 a link from beginning to end but is fraught with holiest 
 feelings and wishes !
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 MB. BOND'S pale face brightens up as Nannie enters the 
 sick room, and lie seems to rally again, but the physician 
 says there is no hope of his restoration. He has failed very 
 rapidly. A paralytic stroke has deprived him of the use 
 of his right side, and it is very evident that he will not 
 make one of the pleasant party in the sunny attic again. 
 It is a great happiness to the weary man to feel that his 
 work upon earth is almost over. He has done it more 
 than cheerfully, even gladly ! but he is not sorry to rest 
 from it now, there 's a great reward coming besides the 
 face of his merciful and loving Father, there is another, the 
 gift of that same Father whom they both ever reverenced, 
 that is winning him with its seraphic expression, and he is 
 quite ready to go. There are some things to be settled, 
 though, while he has the ability to do it, and he calls Pat 
 and Nannie to him, and places the girl's hand in the lad's, 
 blessing them doubly first with the fadeless benison that 
 cometh from above, sometimes through the petitions of a 
 departing and righteous soul and then with an earthly 
 dower from the purse that had never been closed to the 
 poor and needy, neither had unwisely nor imprudently
 
 NANNIE BATES. 265 
 
 emptied itself upon them. There was nothing else for 
 Peter Bond to do but to compose himself, and peacefully 
 await the parting moment. There were very profitable 
 hours spent beside the sick man's bed; hours that left 
 their impress upon the after-life of Mrs. Bates and her two 
 children, for Pat is as Nannie, now, the minister has made 
 them man and wife beside the couch of their benefactor. 
 It was by his express wish ; what if they are young ! So 
 much the more closely will the sacred bonds be interlaced 
 until no earthly power can loose them. 
 
 They demur, on account of the unseemliness of a joyous 
 ceremony at a time, to them, so sad and trying ; but it is a 
 last request, and they yield. It is very hard to think that 
 their kind friend is passing from them, and that they have 
 no power to detain him ; but so it is, and he falls asleep 
 with his closing eyes fixed upon the face on the canvas, and 
 the beloved name on his lips. There are a good many in 
 to look upon him as he lies there so majestically calm. 
 There is such a sublimity in the noble countenance now 
 stamped with so sacred a seal ! 
 
 There are no relations there, for he has outlived all of 
 kindred blood ; but there are others crowding around to 
 get a parting glimpse of the kind face that has cheered 
 them through many an adverse season, and the family 
 of his adoption leave him not until the trees that shade 
 the maiden's grave wave also over his, and the fragrance of 
 the flowers which his own hand hath planted on the green 
 hill-side afar off, breathe upon the tombs of both united. 
 
 12
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 IT is a very quiet subdued sort of night. A solemn 
 stillness broods over the attic room where the bereaved trio 
 are gathered. It is August again, and two of the group 
 recall a bitter evening one August, long ago, when the 
 pitiless rain cast them shelterless into the street and their 
 grateful hearts dwell upon the peace and comfort that 
 resulted from that one, apparently adverse, providence. 
 
 The other member of the little circle dwells upon the 
 single Mnd act that made his subsequent good fortune. 
 There is no doubt in either mind of the especial guardian 
 ship of an Almighty power. Every little blessing, every 
 happy consequence from what, at first, seemed an evil, is 
 plainly before them, and the review of the few past years is 
 working out a settled confidence in the over-ruling Hand. 
 
 Mrs. Bates thinks of the hours of heaviness when, a poor 
 huckster woman, she trudged wearily along with her loaded 
 basket, and of the many times she sought the miserable 
 cellar without a morsel of bread for her famishing children, 
 and her heart clings fondly to the memory of the real 
 friend who wrought so glorious a change in her condition. 
 Nannie goes back to the pinched and pallid infant in the
 
 * NANNIE BATES. 267 
 
 darkened room, and the days and weeks of sadness spent 
 away from the light and air, and she comes again to the 
 happy home, and the angel sister, and the lovely little 
 Dora and a tear moistens her eye as she feels that the 
 kind heart that has so long imparted to their life its purest 
 pleasures has forever ceased to beat. Pat is more oc 
 cupied with the bright present than with past ills. The 
 vile place where he once groveled is erased from his mind 
 by the hallowed sanctuary that is now his Christian home, 
 and the blessed consciousness that Nannie Bates is his, now 
 and forever, banishes every feeling of sadness, leaving room 
 for no regrets save the one that Mr. Bond is hidden from 
 them, to be seen no more on earth. 
 
 Pat has acquired such an universal benevolence since 
 Nannie is so fast bound unto him, that even Mike Dugan 
 is welcomed into their little circle with a true cordiality. 
 
 Mike is not alone, however, when he comes to sit an 
 hour with his old friend, Nannie ; but is accompanied by 
 the blushing Helen Dhue whom he calls " my wife."
 
 THE LITTLE CRIPPLE.
 
 ARCHIBALD MACKIE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 " OH ! oh ! mamma, dear, is n't it a pity he is n't a rich 
 boy like Cousin Willie ? then he could have a carriage to 
 take him about in, and nice clothes to cover up the hump 
 on his back, and a pretty cane with a silver band every 
 little way, and the people would n't push him about so, and 
 call him ' ugly rascal,' as that great man did just now." 
 
 Kittie Fay's mother had noticed the sad object that was 
 slowly moving up the street before her, trying in vain to 
 keep his clumsy crutch out of the way of the passers-by, 
 and she had heard the rude and inh'uman ejaculation of the 
 nobly-formed specimen, whose inner soul must, she felt, 
 be far more hideous than the stricken lad's outward being, 
 since it could so cruelly taunt one on whom the hand of 
 God had been placed in wisdom. 
 
 " Perhaps not ' a pity,' Kittie, darling," replied she, as 
 she quickened her steps in order to overtake the boy. 
 "We will try to find out whether it is or not, and you 
 shall some day answer the question for yourself;" and she
 
 2*72 ARCHIBALD MA OK IE. 
 
 laid her hand gently upon the head of the poor little crip 
 ple, who had halted that he might get breath to proceed to 
 his home. She was almost startled at the sweet yet sad 
 face that was upturned to her gaze. There seemed such a 
 depth of feeling in the blue eye, and such a calm and hal 
 lowed expression upon the pale features, that she hesitated 
 for a moment, as if studying how to address herself to the 
 lad. He was not like a common pauper, although the 
 scanty rags scarcely covered his unsightly figure, and the 
 old hat served only to keep the scorching sun from the very 
 top of his head. He had not asked for money, and he 
 shrunk away from the touch of the lady as if there were 
 degradation in it, and leaned upon his crutch, with the 
 sweet yet reproachful look still fixed upon her. 
 
 Perhaps it was a consciousness of the blessed sympathy 
 that welled up from her motherly heart that relaxed his 
 features into a half smile, and moved him to a half glad, 
 half sad emotion ; perhaps the memory of as dear a face 
 that once beamed upon him with the same holy tenderness, 
 stirred the long-time qftiet depths within his young bosom, 
 and sent forth the tear that lay upon his thin cheek ! At 
 any rate, the shyness and misery had vanished, and he 
 stood intently gazing into the face of the lady until he 
 seemed to have forgotten his misfortunes in the happiness 
 of that one sacred moment. The gentle voice recalled him 
 to a sense of his position, and he sighed heavily as she said, 
 w Wilt you tell me where you live, my son ? and may I 
 sometimes go to see you with my little daughter T'
 
 ARCHIBALD MACKIE. 2*73 
 
 'My sow, my son /" that was too much for the pent-up 
 torrent, and the poor lad burst into an agony of weeping. 
 Years had passed since so blessed a sound had fallen upon 
 his heart, and it awakened so long a train of fond recollec 
 tions, henceforth to be only as a departed dream, that he 
 could have no power to restrain the grief that struggled for 
 vent. It was n't the pity that moved him oh ! no. There 
 was never an hour in the day, when he was exposed to the 
 observation of his fellow-mortals, that some expression of 
 commiseration did not reach his sensitive ear, and many a 
 stranger would stop him with the words of self-complacent 
 condolence that would send the hot blood over his white 
 . forehead, and excite in him a bitter feeling of rebellion 
 against the Providence that ordereth all things aright. He 
 could distinguish between a passing glance of loathing and 
 contempt, and the heartfelt look of sympathetic sorrow, 
 and his isolated spirit grasped at the slightest evidence of a 
 kindred feeling, and treasured it up as the brightest and 
 most precious of gifts. 
 
 Mrs. Fay was troubled by the tears she had so unwit 
 tingly occasioned, and was about to move quietly away, as 
 she saw no prospect of an immediate answer to her ques 
 tion, and the people were beginning to be attracted to the 
 spot by the scene, when the boy pointed in the direction of 
 the bay, and said, tremulously, " I stay with my grand 
 mother down there in a small house by the water, lady ; 
 and we shall both be glad to see you if you please to 
 come ;" and, as if fearing another glance, he hobbled off as 
 12*
 
 2Y4 AECHIBALD MACKIE. 
 
 fast as his infirmities would allow, and was soon out of 
 their sight. 
 
 It was hard to go along day by day, with his withered 
 limb and his protruding back, in the midst of God's fair 
 creation, and feel himself an anomaly there. Shut up his 
 ears and soul as he would against the coarse gibes that 
 were often uttered at his expense, he could not fail to per 
 ceive the strange difference between himself and the crowd 
 that hurried by him, nor to take in the wondrous beauty . 
 that would sometimes flit before his longing vision. The 
 very thought that in his own person he was denied the ex 
 cellence and majesty of a perfect development enhanced so 
 much the more the value of these perfections in his estima 
 tion, and helped him to feel that of all the objects in 
 the wide world, he was the most horribly repulsive. 
 He did not mind the brutal sneers of the rabble that sur 
 rounded his grandmother's hovel on this day, however, for 
 the sweet lady and the beauteous child were constantly 
 before him, and the look so like his departed mother's ; 
 that had penetrated his inmost soul, exalted him far above 
 the trivialities of earth, and he entered the door with 
 a face so radiant, that his old grandmother cried out in~ 
 surprise, 
 
 "Why, Archie, my boy, what's the matter with ye now? 
 you look as if the angels had been with ye." 
 
 " And so they have, grandmother," replied the boy. 
 " Do you remember what dear mother used to tell us ? 
 That all were God's angels that do His will ; and what can
 
 ARCHIBALD MACK IE. 275 
 
 be His will if not the outpouring of kindness and love 
 upon all the world ?" 
 
 " It is strange, child !" continued the old woman, raising 
 her hands in utter amazement ; " last night, and almost 
 all the nights before it, the cloud has been upon ye, 
 and to-night I 'in frightened by the change," and she sat 
 down with her hands folded upon her lap, not daring to 
 turn from the lad " for fear he was crazed," as she said to 
 herself. 
 
 " I know I have been dark, and gloomy, and wicked," 
 replied he, "for I was maddened by the foolish and 
 thoughtless ; but I learned to-day that there are those who 
 can forget the body and its defects, and see the real and 
 perfect man that is hidden beneath. No, no, grandmother, 
 I do not any longer wish to be otherwise than as God has 
 made me, and I '11 be valued yet for something better than 
 this shell !" and the boy-man went away to his humble 
 room, and shut himself in to dream out his future, while 
 his bewildered grandparent wondered within herself what 
 it all could mean. 
 
 There was little in that carpetless room, with its narrow 
 %cot, and its one chair, and its small window with the 
 cracked and puttied panes, to inspire hopefulness or even 
 cheerfulness, if the spirit looks to external objects for its 
 coloring ; and yet the one eye that pierced within the 
 bosom of the solitary lad, saw the blessed light that was 
 beginning to dawn there, and the invisible hand that so 
 affectionately helpeth us in our necessity, was stretched
 
 276 ARCHIBALD AIACKIE. 
 
 forth to lift him out of the despondency that had hitherto 
 pressed him continually downward. 
 
 The sun was near its setting, and the evening was 
 coming on with its slow, midsummer pace, and he had sat 
 for one whole hour beside the window, with bowed head, 
 and clasped hands building up a castle, which, perchance 
 might fall ; perchance might resist the shock of ages, and 
 prove the admiration of every beholder. What mattered 
 it to him, so long as it served to divert him from the one 
 baneful subject his distorted self and place him for the 
 time being at least, in an atmosphere of glory and delight ! 
 It -was better by far than the boisterous mirth of the rude 
 boys whose riotous sport filled the open space near his 
 dwelling with revolting and uncouth sounds; and these 
 silent and intense yearnings after something higher and 
 better than his present state, were almost sure to result in 
 some real and noble achievement. 
 
 Not much could be found in any of his surroundings 
 to encourage his lofty aspirations; what with the coarse 
 father whose only mastery was of the trowel by day, and 
 at night the pipe ; and the simple grandmother who dwelt 
 with wonder, and almost with alarm on every progressive * 
 step of the boy. As he looked from the small loop-hole 
 that admitted the light and air to his humble room, there 
 was naught before him save blocks of brick and stone, 
 with a large square of ground intervening, which was un- 
 fenced and covered with rough stone, and the refuse from 
 the adjoining houses ; but that same uncultivated plot in-
 
 A KG HI BALD MA OKIE. 277 
 
 surcd to him a wide expanse above, whither his longing 
 soul often turned for the beauty and peaee that it met not 
 on earth. The bay was shut off from his view by the 
 broad and high masonry which his wealthy neighbors had 
 erected between him and his chief joy, and the only 
 glimpse of water visible to him now was a stagnant pond, 
 on which dirty and ill-mannered urchins were constantly 
 sailing their boats of paper or wood. One would have 
 thought that there was nothing to attach him to so barren 
 and unattractive a spot, and yet the greatest of all his 
 anxieties was lest amid the encroachments of an ambitious 
 and increasing population, the miserable hut that had be 
 come a palace to him in its hallowed associations, would 
 fall under the ban of some authoritative power, and himself 
 be cast forth into some new place where memory and affec 
 tion had no hold. 
 
 The extensive traveler, whose mind has an unbounded 
 range, can scarcely conceive of the immense value of a 
 limited space to his equally acquisitive though less favored 
 brother. Thousands, whose feet had wandered amid all 
 the wonders of the earth, came back to their every-day 
 plodding life with vacant brains and -unexpanded souls, 
 while Archibald Mackie, in his non-suggestive hovel, gath 
 ered big thoughts and exalted ideas, and grew majestic in 
 intellect, even as he was diminutive in his outward frame. 
 Not a stone upon the waste before him but could tell him 
 its thrilling tale of weary heads pillowed thereon, when all 
 other resting-places failed ; of scanty meals spread out upon
 
 278 ARCHIBALD MACKIE. 
 
 them for lack of a social board ; and of forlorn and for 
 saken ones, sighing out their bitter plaints unto these 
 flinty auditors for want of more attentive hearers. Not a 
 block in the noble structures all about but could bear wit 
 ness to many a sorrowing soul whose drooping body was 
 sustained only by the thought of the needy ones at home, 
 whose wants gave energy to every effort. Not a child amid 
 the group that frequented the common play-ground near 
 but spoke to him, either of blessed ties, and hallowed 
 sympathies, and tender care, and watchful training, or of a 
 broken circle, and chilled feelings, and an utter destitution 
 of interest or culture. But these were all wearisome to 
 him compared to the splendors that were revealed from the 
 heavenly creation, where his gaze was so lovingly fixed on 
 this evening, after meeting Mrs. Fay and her little daughter 
 Kittie. 
 
 He could remember his mother more by the endearing 
 fondness lavished upon him from his birth, than by any 
 distinct impression of her features, but this night her face 
 took the form of the strange lady's in his imagination, and 
 made him sadder than ever as he looked upward to 
 meet it. 
 
 " Wherefore, oh ! wherefore wert thou taken from me, 
 my mother !" said he, as he bowed still lower before God, 
 as if crushed beneath the weight of so mighty a sorrow. 
 " How can I be any thing without thy gentle guidance, and 
 with none to help me out of my ignorance and nothing 
 ness ?"
 
 ARCHIBALD MACKIE. 2V9 
 
 " With God nothing is impossible !" came the answer 
 from his mother's Bible, which he had opened to the place 
 that her own hand had marked, and Archie lifted up his 
 heart and his head, and went out at the summons of his 
 grandmother.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 " WHAT can I do for you, my darling ?" said Mrs. Lin 
 coln, as she bent over a languid form that was extended 
 upon the sofa in front of an open door. The perfume of 
 rare flowers was wafted to them from the cultivated bor 
 ders without, and the rich foliage cast a soft shade 
 upon the lawn, shutting out the intensity of the summer 
 sun, and making the air bland and grateful. Pet hounds 
 were gamboling about the room, and games and toys of 
 every description were scattered all about in the greatest 
 profusion. A stuffed chair, on rollers, was near the boy, 
 and a garden chair stood upon the steps, ready for imme 
 diate use, and every thing around seemed fitted to minister 
 to a diseased body and a capricious will. The lad drew 
 pettishly away from the caress of his fond mother, as he 
 replied, 
 
 " It is n't of any use to do any thing at all for me ; 
 there 's no happiness, anyhow ! Why could n't I have 
 been like other boys, and not so ugly as to have to hive 
 myself up here all the time for fear of ridicule ?" and he 
 threw his head back upon the cool hair pillows and mur 
 mured something which his mother did not hear, except-
 
 ARCHIBALD MA OKIE. 281 
 
 ing that the last word was die. She had often heard 
 the wicked wish that his life might not be prolonged ; but 
 how to lead him from the constant contemplation of his 
 deformity so as to make him resigned, if not cheerful, had, 
 as yet, been an unavailing study. 
 
 The pampering the luxurious tastes and propensities of 
 her son had only fostered in him a craving and dissatisfied 
 spirit, and engendered the feeling that every thing was to 
 bend to his demands however foolish or extravagant. It 
 was a pitiable sight ! that gentle and fond mother vainly 
 giving every energy to the effort to soothe and interest her 
 son, while he, seemingly unconscious of her unwearied ex 
 ertions, turned petulantly from all her kindness and love, 
 and buried himself in gloom and fretfulness. " This thing 
 is intolerably hot !" said he, as he threw back the collar of 
 his fine white linen tunic, and bared his throat to the 
 breeze that came faintly through the open windows; "I 
 haven't felt comfortable to-day, and the night promises 
 nothing better." Mrs. Lincoln took a broad fan from the 
 mantle, and, seating herself by the youth, pushed- aside 
 the heavy hair from his brow and quietly fanned him, 
 while she tried to draw his thoughts away from him 
 self, and fix them upon something pleasing and instructive ; 
 but the mood was perverse, and she was about to despair 
 when two little feet came patting through the hall, and 
 Kittie Fay burst suddenly into the room. 
 
 " Oh ! Willie," said she, bounding up to the couch, and 
 kissing her cousin twenty times over; "you've no idea
 
 282 A R C II I U A I, D M A C K I E . 
 
 what a beautiful home you have, and what a happy boy 
 you are ! only think, I Ve seen somebody, just now, that 
 had just such a thing on his back as you have ; but it 
 stuck almost through his ragged coat, and he had old ugly 
 crutches, and a shabby hat, and he says he lives in a small 
 house down by the bay, and Willie, dear, I 'm going with 
 mother, some day, to see him, and you shall go too, if you 
 will, maybe it will make you sorry for him, so that you 
 will give him something pretty from this nice room !" and 
 the child's eyes wandered over the beautiful articles that 
 were strewn around, and her little hand lay softly upon the 
 forehead of the boy, who looked upon her with something 
 of pleasure in his usually dissatisfied face. " Auntie Lin 
 coin," continued she, leaving her cousin and leaning upon 
 her aunt's knee ; " please take me up to the big window in 
 the study, I believe we can see that little hut from there, 
 fer there 's an old woman conies out the door sometimes, 
 and I guess that 's Archie's grandmother." 
 
 " What does the child mean ?" asked Mrs. Lincoln of her 
 sister, who that moment entered the room ; " she seems 
 quite in earnest about a poor child whom she says she met 
 in the street, and who is afflicted somewhat like out Willie. 
 Is it so, Mary ?" 
 
 " Ah, yes ! and such a sad, sweet face, I shall not soon 
 lose the impression. Such perfect patience and resignation ! 
 It made me really forget his crooked frame. Surely, dear 
 Sarah, God makes us all equal, and it is ourselves alone 
 that create a disparity. The calmness and Christian beauty
 
 ARCHIBALD M A C K I E . 283 
 
 that shone out of that poor boy's face, more than com 
 pensates for the distortion of his frame. We will find 
 him out, if you please, some time, and I am sure we shall 
 not repent it;" and Mrs. Fay cast an intelligent glance 
 toward her impatient nephew, which was understood and 
 appreciated by his mother, who gladly acquiesced in the 
 proposal to seek out the strange lad. 
 
 Kittie, meantime had glided quietly from the room, and 
 ensconced herself in a deep window in the library, where 
 she stood gazing out upon a small hut that stood just 
 visible in the distance. The night was bright and clear, 
 and by the light of the moon that illumined the vacant 
 space around the hovel, she was able to distinguish per 
 fectly every object. The shabby group still gathered about 
 the stagnant pond pushing out their little crafts, or wading 
 in to guide them with greater skill, and now and then a 
 coarse-looking woman would loiter across the space, and 
 with no gentle hand, pull her struggling offspring home 
 ward. The scene was a revolting one to the child, and she 
 wasturning to leave the spot, with one last look at the 
 hut, when she perceived the old woman who had so often 
 before arrested her attention, outside the door, and Archie 
 himself near her, while a shaggy-haired man, with a pipe 
 in his mouth sauntered back and forth in front of the 
 house, occasionally stopping to address himself to one or 
 the other of his companions. Kittie bestowed but a pass 
 ing glance upon the woman and the man, and bent her 
 fixed and interested gaze upon the boy, who sat upon the
 
 284 ARCHIBALD MACKIE. 
 
 low step with his forehead upon his hand, and his sad 
 figure almost doubled together. It was but a moment, 
 however, before the head was raised, and the face turned 
 toward the heavens, with a look so full of reverence and 
 earnestness, that the delicate child shrunk away from her 
 secret observatory, with the feeling that it was a sacrilege 
 to witness the poor lad's sacred emotions, and with suffused 
 4 eyes and a throbbing heart she left the spot in order to re 
 turn to her petted cousin. 
 
 " I 've seen him, Willie," said she, half lying across the 
 heavy pillows and putting her mouth close to the youth's 
 ear, " and he seemed so sad, and yet so happy ! You 
 would n't like it at all down in that mean place with such 
 a looking man and woman to live with, would you, 
 Willie ?" 
 
 " I don't like any thing, Kittie, mean or not mean," mut 
 tered the boy. "To be sure," he continued, seeing her 
 surprised expression, as her eyes fell upon the many com 
 forts and luxuries with which he was surrounded, " to be 
 sure I live in a great house and have plenty of moneysgand 
 books, and toys, and such things ; but Kittie, what if you 
 had this great hump on your back, so that every body 
 would look at you whenever you were out, and pity and 
 loathe you ! I don't believe you would be any happier than 
 I. I don't care, I wish I was dead, anyhow !" and Willie 
 buried his head in the pillows while his little cousin tried 
 to soothe and comfort him. 
 
 " Perhaps I should think of it too much, Willie," said
 
 ARCHIBALD MACKIE. 285 
 
 she, " and then it would make me fretful and wretched ; 
 but mamma says if we fix our minds on something pleas 
 ant, we shall forget the pains and troubles of life ; and only 
 think, Willie, this is all the ill you have, while Archibald 
 Mackie is poor, and ragged, and an orphan besides !" 
 
 "Who's Archibald Mackie?" asked lier cousin, "and 
 what have I to do with him ? 'tis as much as I can do to 
 think of myself!" 
 
 " That 's the very thing, Willie," replied the little rea- 
 soner. " If you would only try to put your mind on some 
 body or something else, may be you would n't remember 
 that you are at all unlike other people. I know mamma 
 and Auntie Lincoln talk so about you very often when 
 they are together ; but I did n't tell you about Archie. 
 You see, I've found out where he lives in that hut that 
 you can see from the library window, and he 's the boy 
 that we are to visit some day, dear Willie ;" and Kittie 
 fondled her deformed cousin, smoothing down the obtrusive 
 hump, as if it were a graceful and comely thing. 
 
 *
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 \ 
 
 ONE little bit of candle, and a few old school-books, and 
 a mind swelling with big desires after knowledge, were 
 beside the small window, long after the midnight hour had 
 struck and the noisy city was hushed into a comparative 
 calm. It did not signify that the bowed frame was wea 
 ried by a day of physical toil, or that the aching head 
 pleaded for "tired nature's sweet restorer," or that a voice 
 from the outer room came often to his ear, with the peti 
 tion that he would no longer rob himself of his needful 
 rest ; there were new and holy impulses that refused to be 
 put aside, and hungerings and thirstings that must be sat 
 isfied, and not until the candle gave out its last flicker did 
 Archibald Mackie spare himself the pittance of slum'oer 
 that was to prepare him for another toilsome day. Even 
 in his fitful and nervous sleep was he mentally solving 
 some abstruse problem, or following out some philosophical 
 train of reasoning, while all the time in his dreams the 
 strange lady would urge him onward in his tasks, smiling 
 upon him with the sweet and gentle face. Forgetful of the 
 simple hovel and its uncouth accompaniments, unmindful 
 of the deformed figure, and the tattered raiment, and the
 
 ARCHIBALD MACK. IE. 28*7 
 
 taunts and jeers of an unfeeling multitude, the poor boy 
 reveled amid visions of knowledge, and wisdom, and 
 beauty, and love, as happy as if an angel form were rest 
 ing where the hideous body lay. 
 
 The morning beams struggled feebly in at the little win 
 dow as Archie tore himself from his pillow, again to apply 
 himself to his books. It was such a wonder to him that 
 
 he could for so long a period have cast them away for 
 satisfying pleasures. The bright dawn, too, was so filled 
 with peace and purity, and he had hitherto dozed it off, 
 never thinking that he had lost the most precious part of 
 his existence. The air came in so refreshingly upon his 
 brow, and the open space had not one revolting object to 
 distract him from hallowed and exalted thoughts. The 
 only sound that reached him was the slow and measured 
 breathing of his grandmother through the thin partition, 
 or the nasal performances of his father from the loft above. 
 Archie's room was the one his mother had occupied ever 
 since his remembrance, and miserable and empty as it was, 
 to him there was an atmosphere of the purest delight. All 
 other spots were trivial and commonplace compared to the 
 one where the maternal blessing had been pronounced, and 
 the maternal breath had ceased ; and hardened indeed 
 must the heart have been that could resist his desire that 
 this one sacred spot might be consecrated alone to him. 
 Here were the books from which her thin and tremulous 
 fingers had pointed out to him the rudiments of that 
 knowledge which his spirit so longed to compass. Here
 
 288 ABCHIBALD MACKIE. 
 
 were gathered the few mementoes of her maidenhood the 
 trinkets from her early schoolmates, and the love-tokens 
 from her rough but kind and affectionate husband all 
 disposed by her own hand, within the tiny cupboard, that 
 came to be a sealed place to every eye but that of the child, 
 whose mature mind could take in all their value. These 
 a|one, of all the objects about him, linked him to the dead 
 lather. To be sure his fond old grandmother doted on 
 the boy in her childish and simple way, and his father gave 
 him^all the love of which his nature was capable, but there 
 seemed to him no connection between the spiritual image 
 that so continually hovered about his pathway, and the 
 coarse and material beings who seemed only to live for the 
 things that give life and support to the body ; and his high 
 communings and yearnings found no sympathy in either 
 of his well-meaning but obtuse relatives. To look upon 
 the lad's occasional bursts of enthusiasm with a wonderino- 
 
 O 
 
 and frightened stare, was all that the poor old woman could 
 do to show that she even observed them, and as for the 
 father, it was quite impossible to beguile him from his old 
 and commonplace notions. The idea of listening to read 
 ing, or to the explanation of any of the mysteries of science, 
 formed no part of his mental machinery. 
 
 "Book larnin'll do well enough for you, Archie, my 
 boy," he would say; "but this thing," holding up his 
 trowel in a fond sort of way, " has found me a good living 
 for many a year, and as for amusement, my pipe keeps my 
 mind off the trouble, sp don't pester yourself trying to turn
 
 AKCHIBALD MACKIE. 289 
 
 me into a new way, child, the old one suits me better !" 
 It was not well for the imaginative and sickly youth to be 
 left to his own wild and untutored fancies ; but there was 
 no help for it now, and he gave himself up to his studies 
 and his dreams, looking no longer for sympathy from those 
 around him, but gathering inward strength and self- 
 dependence with every struggle for the mastery over his 
 sensitive and morbid nature. 
 
 Little, however, as there was in Archie's home to aid him 
 in his efforts after a higher attainment, he was not without 
 a hidden but blessed influence. His mother's grave Avas 
 just without the city, in the beautiful cemetery, and 
 thither his weary feet often wandered when he was spared 
 from his labor early enough, or on the precious Sunday, 
 the day of days, especially to the poor. Glorious monu 
 ments of the most elaborate workmanship, temples, and 
 majestic columns, and angel figures, were all nothing to 
 Archie compared to the simple mound that told him of an 
 undying love for the lonely and crippled one. No marble 
 arose there in wonderful grace and beauty, no reclining 
 seraph imaged the departed saint ; but low down, beneath 
 the green turf was the heart that leaped at the advent of 
 her first-born son, and the eye that overlooked the blemish 
 that all other eyes seemed to dwell upon, and the hand that 
 was laid upon his head in the last sad moment. Naught 
 else was needed to the few souls that cared for her mem 
 ory. Was she not ever before them in the garb of purity 
 and love ! and yet among the boy's visions was a sacred 
 
 13
 
 290 ARCHIBALD MACK IE. 
 
 spot remote from the common ground where necessity had 
 placed his idolized parent, and a slab that should speak of 
 a son's gratitude, and shrubs and flowers around to breathe 
 their sweet odor above the lowly bed. So long as his 
 mother's memory was kept fresh and green within him 
 Archibald MacMe was not cut off wholly from the com 
 panionship and sympathy that is a need of every nature.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE afternoon had been uncommonly sultry and op 
 pressive, so that even the plants and trees appeared to 
 droop and wither, and all about the city were hot and tired 
 people lagging homeward as if every energy were utterly 
 exhausted. Archie had been working unusually hard, so 
 that the old pain had seized his back again, making him 
 miserably despondent lest he should be wholly crippled, 
 and thrown quite broken and helpless upon his struggling 
 relatives, and he was panting toward the quarter of the city 
 where his shelter was, with slow and weary steps, when 
 suddenly, as he passed a bright saloon, he heard a joy 
 ous cry of " Oh ! mamma, just look, there he is again !" and 
 before he could get away, the pleasant face of the lady was 
 bent upon him from the window of the carriage that stood 
 before the door, and she motioned him to her. 
 
 Perhaps he would have heeded her summons if he had 
 not seen an impatient and scornful countenance peeping 
 curiously through the side-curtain. May be it was but his 
 native pride that induced him to press onward with only a 
 quiet and polite recognition of her notice. 
 
 " There, Willie, you Ve driven him away," said Kittie,
 
 292 ARCHIBALD MACKIE. 
 
 frowning upon her cousin reproachfully. " How could you 
 look so cross at him when you knew mamma wanted him 
 to come up and speak to us? Well, I shall go to see 
 him, whatever you do, that 's certain," continued she, after 
 a short pause, as the lad leaned back upon his seat with 
 out deigning a reply. Then taking up the thin hand that 
 lay upon his knee, she kissed it affectionately as if to atone 
 for the momentary pique against him ; but her eyes fol 
 lowed the poor boy until he was no longer visible among 
 the crowd, and she was thinking of the pitiful expression, 
 and contrasting it with the trustful, hopeful one that she 
 had last seen from the lonely library, and wondering what 
 could make the difference. And she cared little for the 
 drive, although they passed through beautiful streets and 
 along her favorite haunts, by the bay, and out on the 
 avenues and quite beyond the noise and dust of the city, 
 in the midst of God's own fair and beautiful nature. The 
 mother noticed the child's abstraction, and it saddened her 
 to think of the shadow that comes over the brightness of 
 one's early being, shutting out the loveliness and the grace 
 even from the youngest heart. 
 
 It was hard to feel that an unsightly hump, and a woe- 
 
 
 
 begone face were occupying the place that had hitherto 
 been filled with images of joy and gladness ;*but Mrs. Lin 
 coln was a wise mother, and would not try to divert her 
 child's mind from the salutary lesson which the very 
 shadow itself ever brings ; so they moved on with the un 
 broken silence, save when Willie gave utterance to some
 
 ARCHIBALD MACKIE. 293 
 
 pettish feeling, and then little Kittie would look at him 
 with a deeper pity than poor Archie had ever called forth. 
 
 They were alone in the evening, after their return 
 from their drive, and Willie was sitting in his easy-chair 
 by the door, while his young cousin was upon the sill at 
 his feet apparently absorbed in some intense subject, for 
 lier pet kitten was making sad havoc with the neat straw 
 hat that had fallen from her head, and lay unnoticed upon 
 the step, the ribbons already crumpled and wet by Miss 
 Pussy's chewing ; and "Willie had twice spoken to her 
 without an answer. It was rather too much for the im 
 petuous youth to bear, and when he spoke again it was 
 with a tinge of bitterness. 
 
 " I thought mother sent for you here to amuse me, 
 Kittie, and not to waste all your pity upon a poor beggar 
 whom you happened to meet in the street. I 'm sure I 
 might as well be without you, as to have you as dull and 
 silent as you have been since you saw that miserable boy. 
 Well, haven't you any thing to say yet," continued he, as she 
 fixed her wondering and sorrowful eyes upon his face. "It's 
 enough to tire any body's patience to speak, and speak, 
 and speak, and no one to answer you but the echo of your 
 own voice. That 's the way it 's always been ; but I might 
 have known it. Nobody cares for a deformed boy !" and 
 the lad threw the bunch of flowers that his cousin had just 
 before arranged for him, out the door and wheeled his 
 chair further back, although he was not so far removed as 
 to lose the reproachful glance of Kittie.
 
 ARCHIBALD MACKIE. 
 
 "Ob, Willie!" said she, "if you had only notjced poor 
 Archie, as I did, and seen how troubled and worn he 
 looked, and how the big drops stood all over his forehead, 
 as he moved on with one hand to his back, you would n't 
 wonder that I don't want to talk and play to-night ! It 
 makes me so sorry because I can't help it any, and you 
 know he 's poor and has to work, when may be he 's too 
 sick and lame to do any thing." 
 
 " Why don't you pity me, Kittie ? Here I have to sit, 
 day after day, moping in this dull old house ; I can't go 
 any where, and I can't do any thing as other boys do, and 
 there don't any body care, either, but you all seem as merry 
 and happy as if I were the most favored person in the 
 world. You need n't look at me with your great staring 
 eyes, as if I were the wickedest boy you ever saw ; per 
 haps you 'd be better if you were in my place ; but I 'm 
 not bad enough to wish you there, much as I wish to cast 
 off this loathsome body and find myself upright and per 
 fect. Come, come, Kittie, we won't quarrel any more ; I 
 did n't mean to hurt your feelings," said he, as the tears 
 rolled down the child's face and fell upon her white dress. 
 " You must n't mind when I am cross, but must love me, 
 whatever any body else does. I don't like to feel as I do 
 so- often ; but how can I help it ? Every thing goes wrong 
 with me. I thought when you came I 'd got somebody " 
 that would n't get tired of me, and it frets me to see you 
 thinking all the time of that beggar-boy." 
 
 "I do indeed love you, dear Willie," replied his little 
 
 .
 
 ARCHIBALD MACKIE. 295 
 
 cousin, rising, and clasping him around the neck ; " but I 
 wish poor Archie had time to lie down on a soft couch 
 like yours, and had a kind mother to kiss him, and fan 
 him, and soothe away his pain, as you have. I 'm afraid 
 to hear you talk pettishly, when you have so many com 
 forts, for mamma says 'God sometimes takes away our 
 good things if we do not know how to prize them and be 
 thankful for them,'" and the child ran to her mother, 
 whose voice she heard in the hall. 
 
 It was very well to leave the murmuring boy alone just 
 then, for her little prattle was not without its effect upon 
 her cousin, who began to think that perhaps there were 
 others in the world as miserably off as himself. 
 
 " I '11 go with Kittie to see the poor lad, any way," solil 
 oquized he. " It won't do me any harm, and may be it 
 will amuse me a little while." 
 
 Still selfish, poor youth ! If it had only been, " May be 
 it will amuse him a little' while," then the obtrusive hump 
 would n't be so heavy, and the murmuring, repining spirit 
 would become joyous and grateful. But we will have pa 
 tience with thee for a while yet. It is so easy, with this 
 healthy, robust frame, to reproach the diseased and fretful 
 one. We will try to be lenient toward thy complainings*
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE sun had been up for a long time, and the old grand 
 mother had the breakfast upon the table. She had n't 
 called Archie, for she knew the boy's habits, and supposed 
 he was busy with his books as usual, so she helped her son 
 to his hasty meal, and saw him and his trowel and pipe a 
 long distance without the door before she ventured to dis 
 turb her grandchild's quiet. Thump, thump, thump, upon 
 the bedroom wall, and not an answering sound, yet, after 
 a moment, there seemed to be a stir, and some words that 
 were not intelligible to her obtuse ear. She did n't wait 
 much longer, but lifted the latch and entered his room. 
 
 What ails the boy ? His eyes are jvild and fierce, and 
 his figure is tossed from side to side of the narrow bed, 
 while he mutters of his mother, and of a sweet lady, and 
 a gentle child ; and then he presses a parched hand to his 
 h/ow, and begs them not to heap up the hot coals there, 
 . but to bring him ice, ice ; and then he clinches his fist and 
 strikes at the old woman who has approached him to try 
 to calm him, but she has no power over his ravings, and 
 she perceives that he has a terrible fever ; and then she 
 remembers that he would go supperless to bed the night
 
 ARCHIBALD MACKIE. 297 
 
 before, and that he looked paler and more weary than 
 usual, and she chides herself for not coming- earlier to see 
 if he was ill. She wishes some body would come ; it 
 would n't do to leave him alone, and what can she do by 
 * herself? There 's a knock at the outer door, she thinks no ; 
 it is only a stray goat that frequents that quarter of the city, 
 and has come for her accustomed offering of food. She 
 has n't any heart to stop now, and the disappointed animal 
 goes off again to try her next neighbor. There 's no milk 
 man, nor baker, nor butcher's boy, nor groceT to come to 
 her, for they do all their own purchasing at the small shop 
 near, and so the morning wears on, and the lad grows more 
 delirious, and talks about coffins, and death, and horrible 
 sights, and just as his grandmother, too frightened to neg 
 lect the case longer, locks the door of his room, and gets 
 her bonnet on to find a doctor, a lady gives a slight rap 
 and enters the outer door, followed by a young girl. She 
 hears the delirious tones, and immediately knows that the 
 boy is ill, and the old woman gladly accepts her kind offer 
 to sit by him until she returns with the physician, though 
 she says it is too much for a lady to consent to, and she is 
 fearful the boy will do her some harm in his raving mood. 
 
 "Don't be troubled," said Mrs. Lincoln, "I'm not 
 afraid ;" and she turned the key, and was soon beside the 
 sufferer with her delicate hand upon his brow, and her ten 
 der words soothing his horrors all away. It was wonderful 
 what a charm there was in the gentle eye that was fixed 
 upon him, and the soft touch that cooled the burning fore- 
 13*
 
 298 AECHIBALD MACKIE. 
 
 head ! Quite an hour she sat in the same position, breath 
 ing out tones that only a mother ever learns, and the lad 
 lay quiet and calm, looking up into her face with a 
 pleased and satisfied expression, save when she moved as 
 if to leave him for a moment, the paroxysm would seize* 
 him again. The physician came, and pronounced the 
 disease brain-fever brought on by over-fatigue and exertion, 
 and Kittie stood with her pitiful glance fastened upon him, 
 and she knew then why he was so distressed the day 
 before when he passed them as they sat in the carnage, 
 and why the resignation and trust had gone. 
 
 He did not know her now, and her mother sent her 
 home with the promise that she should come often, if he 
 got better and would like to see her; but she remained 
 day after day nursing him as his own mother would have 
 done, until the mind was clear again, and he was conscious 
 of her grateful presence. All through the long period of 
 his delirium he had fancied that his mother's spirit was 
 beside him ministering to his wants, and whenever she 
 went from his sight, for a moment, he kept up a lamentable 
 moaning until she was there again, and then he would lay 
 for hours without even a murmur or a sound. 
 
 No wonder she felt a mysterious interest in the boy as 
 he grew stronger, and would so often bend her steps to his 
 humble dwelling to read or talk to him. And Kittie, too, 
 desired no better reward for good behavior than to spend 
 an hour at poor Archibald Mackie's. They had learned 
 all about his history now, and he had told Mrs. Lincoln
 
 ARCHIBALD MA OKIE. 299 
 
 how much she had reminded him of the dead mother, and 
 what a help her sympathy had been to him in his studies, 
 and they had spoken of Willie and his troubles, and Archie 
 forgot the sour face that had sent him away from the car 
 riage, and thought only of the boy's crippled fate, so like 
 his own. Like, and yet unlike to the casual observer 
 there was a vast difference between the forlorn, poverty- 
 stricken, ragged Archie, and the petted, and pampered, and 
 richly-clad Willie ; but to the eye of the unwearied watcher 
 who had witnessed the patience and the goodness of the 
 sick lad, and contrasted it with the petulance and sinfulness 
 of her nephew, the gifts of God were not unequally dis 
 tributed.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 IT was astonishing how many friends Aichie had among 
 the poor there was Mahan Doughty coming every day 
 with her apron full of wild flowers which she had wandered 
 a long way to find, and which she carefully disposed in the 
 little pewter mug that stood on the table beside the 
 lad's bed and there was old Patrick Marsh, night and 
 morning, with a fresh cup of milk from his one precious 
 goat and Sally Bunt with the only egg her hen-house 
 could produce, and a host of young voices often at the door 
 * with a hushed tone of inquiry concerning the invalid. Oh ! 
 it isn't wealth that brings the greatest and purest joy! 
 Mrs. Fay felt that as she saw the blessings of an unbought 
 interest pouring in upon the humble inmate of the small 
 hovel, and she adored more than ever the justice of the 
 Almighty giver who dispenseth with such perfect measure 
 to every living soul. 
 
 The lad loved the flowers, and dwelt upon their beauty 
 as he lay languidly upon his bed, and they were full of 
 happy teachings to him better, far better than many a 
 more boisterous exhorter. He couldn't look upon their 
 wonderous and perfect mechanism with a cold or unbeliev-
 
 ARCHIBALD MACK IE. 301 
 
 ing heart ; but his best and wannest affections went upward 
 with their sweet odor, and were acceptable to Him who had 
 tipped every petal with a heavenly message. 
 
 Archie also loved the rough visage of old Patrick, and 
 was convinced of the value of a kind and generous heart, 
 by the simple offering that was so grateful to his enfeebled 
 state. Patrick had always looked upon the boy with a 
 pride not unmixed with awe. He could discern the symp 
 toms of a higher destiny awaiting the lad, and had always 
 treated him with a certain degree of reverence and respect, 
 and now that the youth was so helpless and weak, the 
 strong arm of the true old man lifted him back and forth, 
 and held him fondly upon his breast as if he were his own 
 little child, and so there grew an enduring sympathy be 
 tween them that was to stay both the tottering and the 
 crippled. 
 
 Sally Bunt, too, standing before the sick boy with the 
 tempting gift in one hand, and a finger of the other bash- 
 full)' thrust into her wee mouth, was an object of some 
 affection to Archie, who would call the little girl up to 
 him, and smooth down her frizzled hair with his tremulous 
 hand, and thank her so warmly for the one egg, that she 
 would go away with as much joy in her heart as if she 
 were a queen, and had just tendered her costly offerings, 
 and concluded her interview with the wisest man. 
 
 Nor were the young children who gathered around the 
 house for news of the convalescent, forgotten or unheeded ; 
 but the pale face would appear at the small window to
 
 302 ARCHIBALD MAORI E. 
 
 greet them, and the feeble voice would speak out its sincere 
 gratitude. The hours were very lonely after he began to 
 get well, yet was confined* to his close room ; and Archie 
 almost felt as if he could be always so very, very ill, if it 
 would insure to him the presence of the gentle lady, who 
 came now but an hour a day to see him. 
 
 The old grandmother was obliged to keep closely to her 
 work now that the boy was disabled, and the father had 
 only the early dawn and the late evening to spend in the 
 sick-room ; but these were pleasant seasons to his child, for 
 they developed the good and the tender in the man's 
 nature, and diminished the distance between the two, so 
 that the son could again feel the link that bound his father 
 to the departed. 
 
 They could now talk together of his mother and look 
 over the little mementoes that were so treasured, and both 
 were happier for the hallowed communion. 
 
 " You '11 lay me by her when I 'm gone, lad, won't you ?" 
 said the man. " I could n't sleep elsewhere, and I Ve faith 
 to think you '11 live to see me buried, much as we all 
 watched for your own last breath." 
 
 The boy did n't like to talk of death now. He had 
 passed through the danger, and had a motive in wishing 
 to live. There was a great deal to be done a mighty 
 work, but he felt strong to do it and when he was alone 
 he hobbled across the room, and unlocked a small chest 
 and found a portfolio that had been his mother's, and every 
 day the white pages grew black with marks ; but bright
 
 ARCHIBALD MACKIE. 303 
 
 and radiant with the overflowing treasures of a rich and 
 gifted mind. Like a miser he hid the product, down, 
 down, amid heaps of household rubbish in an uncared for 
 nook by the chimney, and only drew it forth to add to its 
 value when there was no witness that could betray him. 
 It was a worthless-looking thing, that old leather port 
 folio, with the wear and tear of years upon it ; but the boy 
 felt a sort of inward consciousness that the gloomy and 
 dismal hiding-place beneath the refuse truck was not its 
 irrevocable destiny ; and this feeling buoyed him up when 
 he was inclined to despondency or sadness, and kept him 
 busy with his new labor during many an otherwise weary 
 and painful hour. And so his days passed on until the 
 pain and the lassitude left him, and he could again go forth 
 to work amid the erect and strong, with his own frame 
 bent still lower by his long sad illness.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 " COUSIN WILLIE, I have not seen Mm for several days, 
 and I do want to go so much !" besides, pleaded the little 
 girl, " you promised to walk there with me some day, long 
 ago, and you have never been there yet." 
 
 The cousins were standing together on the green slope, 
 whence they could see the poor boy's home, and Kittie's 
 attention had been particularly drawn to the spot by a 
 crowd of laborers that were gathered around the house 
 seemingly engaged in some exciting subject, for they 
 were gesticulating violently, while the old woman stood 
 without the group wringing her hands, and now and then 
 applying her apron to her face with a passive sort of 
 grief. 
 
 " I do believe that Mr. King, who bought so much land 
 here last week, means to pull down Archie's cottage !" ex 
 claimed Kittie, looking earnestly at the men, whose motions 
 she had been anxiously watching for some time. " I heard 
 mamma say she was afraid they would have to leave, and 
 that would almost kill Archie. Will you go with me, 
 Willie ? I must know about it. Only think ! to have to 
 go away from the place where he was born, and, may be,
 
 ARCHIBALD MA OKIE. 305 
 
 live in a room with ever so many families, just like littl^ 
 Peter Bell ' r it is really dreadful !" and the child moved 
 toward the gate, with her hat in her hand, and her hair 
 waving in the fresh breeze, unconscious of every thing save 
 that something threatened Archie, in whose interests she 
 was now wholly absorbed. 
 
 " It 's no use ; you must n't go there now, Kittie," said 
 her cousin, who had, thus far, been but a silent witness of 
 the scene upon the vacant space, and of the child's un 
 wonted emotion. " What good do you think a little girl 
 like you could do among so many grown men ? I know 
 they mean to pull down the house, for old Patrick Marsh 
 came to father this morning to see if he would let Archie 
 live in the little place of ours, just down here by the vege 
 table-garden. He said Archie was not able to be confined 
 to a store, and that he would be just the hand to keep the 
 garden nice." 
 
 " Oh ! that will be grand !" replied Kittie, clapping her 
 hands and dancing for joy. " I 'm almost glad they will 
 take it down only he likes it so, living there, and it will 
 take a long time to get used to another place," added she 
 musing thoughtfully, with her finger upon her lip. " Bui 
 it 's greener, here, Willie," she continued, bounding along 
 until she stood beside the spot in question ; " and then we 
 can come often to see him, you know. Won't it be nice ? 
 Oh ! I 'm so happy !" 
 
 "Not so fast, Kittie; father left it to me altogether. 
 He knew it would be unpleasant to have that deformed boy
 
 306 ARCHIBALD MAORI E. 
 
 always before me, and so he would give no answer to old 
 Patrick without my consent ; and I don't believe I shall 
 say yes very soon. I 'm sorry Jim went away, for I loved 
 to come down here sometimes while he had the place ; he 
 always had something nice to say to me," 
 
 " And yet Jim was wicked, dear Willie, and used to beat 
 Brindle, and kick the horses every day ; and I heard him 
 call you names to Bridget once, when you told him to 
 wheel you about the garden. To be sure he did n't know 
 I was near ; but if he had really liked you, he would have 
 felt the same and acted the same every where. I hope 
 you '11 let Archie come, he 's so gentle and kind, and it 
 will be a good deed on your part, too, Willie." 
 
 " I don't know," muttered the lad ; " it 's bad enough to 
 have one cripple about without multiplying them. People 
 would call this the hospital, or the asylum for the de 
 formed, if they saw many such objects around here." 
 
 " Never mind people, Willie ; it 's better to feel that you 
 are doing good than to be guided by what people would 
 say and what people would think. Mamma teaches me to 
 go by that rule, and I 'm sure I 'm a great deal happier for 
 it. I never think now of any body when I want to do any 
 thing, but go right on and do it, if I think it is best. Only 
 let Archie come, and you '11 see what a difference it will 
 make to your life. He is a good boy, and he knows a great 
 deal, too ; more than I can learn for a long, long time, so 
 that it will do us no harm to be with him. Mamma says 
 she does not care who I associate with, if it is a good and
 
 ARCHIBALD MACKIE. 30*7 
 
 intelligent cliild. All she wants is to keep me away from 
 the wicked and ignorant, and she never says no when I ask 
 to go to Archibald Mackie's ; and I 'm sure my mother 
 knows !" and Kittie seated herself on the bench beside the 
 vacant house, waiting for some decision from Willie, who 
 was still wavering. 
 
 If he should consent, there would be a constant remem 
 brancer of his own defective person ever before him; it was 
 quite enough to be sensible of his condition without so pal 
 pable an image haunting the precincts of his home. Then 
 Kittie would be drawn from him to the poor boy, Avho had 
 already enlisted more of her sympathies than he had ever 
 done. He would like to please her, though, and it would 
 be a sort of patronage toward the boy that might exalt 
 himself in Kittie's estimation. 
 
 It was very singular how much influence the child ex 
 ercised over him. He was pettish and cross toward her, 
 and made it a great condescension to do any thing that she 
 proposed ; and yet, to thwart her in any one thing made 
 him uneasy and miserable. " What would Kittie think ?" 
 and, " Would it please Kittie ?" were questions that he was 
 more willing to put to himself than to acknowledge to any 
 body else. He could not mistake his cousin's wishes now, 
 and he meant all the time to gratify her, but the perverse 
 nature would have its vent, and so he said, very ungra 
 ciously, 
 
 " There 's one thing the pony needs better care than 
 Jim ever gave it, and perhaps Archie might be gentle with
 
 308 ARCHIBALD MACKIE. 
 
 it, and his father can mind the garden at odd times. I Ve 
 half a mind to try him ; but he must know his place, and 
 not be thinking himself an equal just because we choose to 
 benefit him." 
 
 Kittie did not care what he did, nor how he got there, 
 so that he really had the permission, and before Willie 
 had time to alter his mind she had flown out the gate, and 
 was fast nearing the humble cottage. The workmen had 
 dispersed, and the door and windows were closed, and the 
 curtains all down, so that the child thought nobody was 
 there, but she went quietly in, as she had been accustomed, 
 and tapped at Archie's room. There was a sound of voices 
 within, and she heard the old woman murmuring against 
 the new proprietor of the ground for disturbing her in her 
 old age ; but she was scarcely prepared for such a burst of 
 grief as met her from Archie, as she entered the room and 
 spoke to him in her soothing gentle manner. His treasures 
 were lying upon his bed ready for the packing in a small 
 box that he held in his hand, and his books and clothes 
 were piled up on the table awaiting their final destination. 
 
 The child had never seen him so pale and troubled in all 
 his trying illness as he now looked, and his unconcealed, 
 unsuppressed sorrow frightened her so that she had scarcely 
 a word to say, until he became somewhat calm, and then 
 she told him of the small house on her uncle's domains, 
 and the permission he had to occupy it. " It is so much 
 better than this, Archie !" said she, looking out the window 
 upon the barren space, and around the room at the dingy
 
 ARCHIBALD MACKIE. 309 
 
 and tottering walls. They were both very grateful the 
 old woman and the boy but nobody could tell with what 
 tenacity their affections clung to every splinter of the old 
 building, and what a bitter step it was, that last one, over 
 the threshold of their lowly home.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE morrow had come, and the old woman knew that 
 the word had gone forth against her humble tenement, and 
 that there could be no appeal, so she quietly betook herself 
 to the vacant cottage within the grounds of Mr. Lincoln 
 with the feeling that " it was not long that she had to stay 
 upon the earth anyhow, and it mattered little where she 
 spent her few remaining days." 
 
 Archie said nothing to his grandmother about his own 
 movements, but while she went her way to the new home 
 he turned toward the beautiful cemetery, and there, upon 
 the head of his mother's grave, he deposited the box of 
 treasures, not with any false or superstitious notion, but 
 from a sacred and loving impulse. It had seemed such a 
 sacrilege, to him, to remove them from the spot where her 
 own hand had placed them ; besides, there was no hallowed 
 nook in the strange home, and this was why he sought the 
 most consecrated part of earth for these precious relics. 
 All about, upon the graves of the poor, he had seen similar 
 tokens, and had observed that even the most careless and 
 light-hearted passer-by had never stooped to touch what a 
 pious affection had made sacred. Some, it is true, had
 
 ARCHIBALD MACK. IE. 311 
 
 looked with contempt upon these simple tributes, and had 
 suffered the words " heathen fanatics !" to escape their lips ; 
 but these same persons would spend hours before the costly 
 ornaments above a richer body, and find in them no motive 
 but a commendable and proper respect, whereas the Om 
 niscient could note the pride engraven upon the one, and 
 the sincere and earnest feeling that marked the other. It 
 didn't matter much to Archie what any body said or 
 thought. He knew that there his treasures were safe, and 
 he felt them to be an appropriate monument until his 
 secret wishes respecting his mother's ashes could be at 
 tained, so he left them, and sauntered slowly away. Gay 
 parties, whose only motive in seeking the dwelling-place of 
 the dead was the gratification of the outward senses, looked 
 from their luxurious carriages upon the poor hunchback 
 with a careless indifferent feeling as he passed along with 
 bent frame and serious air, little dreaming of the great soul 
 that tenanted so feeble a body. 
 
 One alone of a merry group paused, and leaned eagerly 
 forward to give some token of recognition to the lad, whose 
 errand there she could readily guess. "What is it, Kittie ?" 
 asked half a dozen of her light-hearted companions, as she 
 smiled sweetly and bowed to the boy. "It can't be 
 human;" and then they laughed as the child's sad face 
 looked reproachfully at them. As if this miserable shell 
 that, however attractive and beauteous now, must, one day, 
 be clothed in a loathsome corruption, could affect in any 
 way the glorious and undying principle within! Not
 
 312 ARCHIBALD MACKIE. 
 
 " human !" because clad in an uncouth and unsightly 
 garment ! as well might we spurn the immortal spirits for 
 once dwelling in clayey tenements, as to make a mock and 
 derision of those who, for some wise but hidden purpose, 
 are made to walk this earth with marred and uncomely 
 figures. Not " human !" Kittie knew how much of human 
 ity there was in the sorrowing heart that was even now 
 beating with a pure and filial affection, as the weary steps 
 plodded through the pleasant avenues. She remembered 
 the deep and grateful feeling that was so constantly mani 
 festing itself toward her gentle mother as she ministered to 
 him on his sick bed, and she could appreciate his noble, 
 and generous, and loving nature, while others saw but the 
 distorted figure that came between them and an otherwise 
 undisturbed beauty. Take heart, poor youth ! There are 
 kindred loving eyes on earth that beam even for thee !
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 SEVERAL weeks have passed, and the old woman takes 
 wonderfully to the new place. She begins to feel really glad 
 for the change that was so terrible in the anticipation. It is 
 so green and qniet all about the house no rude boys shout 
 ing in her ear as she steps without the door, or throwing 
 mud-balls into the open windows ; no brazen, neglected girls 
 to call her low names, or pin dirty rags upon her gown as 
 she walks about the premises ; and then every thing within 
 the walls is so clean and nice no threatening cracks in the 
 white ceilings ; no dilapidated walls to totter, or worn 
 planks to shake at every tread ; no half-starved rats, stalking 
 about seeking somewhat to devour ; and no odious effluvia 
 from the waste lot, or the stagnant pond, stopping her 
 breath as she looked from door or window. Oh ! she could 
 not have believed that any thing that seemed such an evil 
 would prove so great a good. The breeze came into the 
 clean rooms so laden with the breath of flowers, and the 
 cheerful notes of birds were all the time in her ears ; and 
 in the quiet evening, she, and the boy, and his father could 
 sit upon the sill of the door and talk to their heart's con- 
 14
 
 314 ARCHIBALD MACK IE. 
 
 tent, without one noisy interruption from the rude crowd, 
 that used to make it so difficult to have one moment's 
 pleasant intercourse. Archie was more cheerful, too, and 
 took possession of his little chamber with such a manifest 
 delight that his grandmother had nothing more to desire. 
 His window looked out upon the old quarters, and he was 
 thus enabled to contrast the beauty and the quiet with the 
 sad unrest of his former home ; and as he noticed the 
 rough group so constantly upon the open space, and re 
 membered how often he had been the butt of their unfeeling 
 jests and cruel sport, he rejoiced at the high wall that 
 prevented their ingress into his patron's territory, and felt 
 as if he had indeed an impregnable fortress to resort to in 
 every emergency. 
 
 It was just the spot for meditation, too, and the musty 
 portfolio came forth oftener from its obscurity, and began 
 to grow really bulky, and that not only in size but in 
 matter. 
 
 Nobody would have thought him more than a common 
 lad as he bent to weed the vegetables and flowers, or 
 brushed down the white pony, or sauntered about the 
 grounds with*bowed head, and hands behind him; but 
 Mrs. Fay had fathomed the secret depths, as from time to 
 time she sought to draw him out from the reserve in which 
 he was enveloped, and Kittie knew by her own pure and 
 blessed instincts, all that there was of light and wisdom in 
 the poor boy, who had attracted her from the very begin 
 ning. True, Cousin Willie would take every opportunity
 
 ARCHIBALD 31 A OKIE. 315 
 
 to disparage the lad, but what cared she ? It is not so easy 
 to bias the mind of a properly-taught child ; and her own 
 heart told her what was good in the boy and what was 
 evil in her cousin. As for Willie, he walked about like 
 some evil genius, making the deformity of the body more 
 conspicuous by the deformity of the soul, and" casting a 
 huge and ugly shadow over the lovely home that God had 
 so graciously given him. There was a constant antagonism 
 between him and the poor lad ; not that Archie ever gave 
 occasion of offense, or encouraged the antipathy that he 
 could perceive in Willie ; but his patience, and gentleness, 
 and intelligence, were a constant reproach to his rich young 
 neighbor, who so continually wearied his friends by fret- 
 fulness and ill-humor, and who spurned all the efforts of 
 his tutor, never trying to improve the privileges lavished 
 upon him, but deeming it very hard that he should be ex 
 pected to confine himself to books "As if it were not 
 punishment enough to carry about a repulsive body !" he 
 would say. 
 
 Ah ! quite enough. This Archie felt as he applied him 
 self diligently to the task of adorning and embellishing his 
 higher and imperishable nature. And the lady and the 
 child had learned to look at that only, so that they 
 really forgot often the outer man, as the soul-lit eyes 
 sparkled and beamed upon them when they talked to 
 gether. He did not forget it, and so it served its true 
 purpose, making him humble, and keeping under the 
 majesty of his spirit that might otherwise have grown into
 
 316 ARCHIBALD MACKIE. 
 
 a revolting and self-sufficient pride. It is so vain to struggle 
 against these fetters and restraints; God knows what we 
 need, and it may be ever the mightiest souls that are 
 curbed while on earth by some physical infirmity.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 PATRICK MARSH was a cooper, and lived down close to 
 the water's edge in a shanty of his own construction. He 
 had taken possession of the spot long before there were 
 any signs of human habitation near, and nobody had ever 
 doubted his right of ownership. Yet as he beheld the 
 slow but sure encroaches upon his vicinage he began to 
 tremble even for the meager handful of earth on which his 
 domicil stood, and used often to go up to Archie's to con 
 dole with the old lady when her own little resting-place 
 was threatened. 
 
 Now he was filled with wrath as he passed the heaps of 
 boards, stone, and rubbish, and viewed the preparations for 
 the erection of a large and noble mansion, and he strode 
 hastily on, that he might effervesce in the old woman's 
 presence, for he wished to convince her of his interest and 
 displeasure, and a sober pace would have brought back 
 the habitual placidity to the old man's heart. It was not 
 natural for him to cherish the slightest degree of malice or 
 resentment, and the very consciousness that he was out of 
 his usual way distressed and vexed him, so that when he 
 reached the quiet cottage, it was delightfully soothing to
 
 318 ARCHIBALD MACKIE. 
 
 find the grandmother contentedly sitting knitting work iti 
 hand, beside the door in no need of comfort, if one might 
 judge by the cheerful, happy expression. 
 
 " Such a blessing, Betty," said he they were children 
 together " such a blessing to find you so easy and 
 nateral-like. I begin to believe the Lord's hand is raly in 
 it all, and that He always gives as good as He takes. I 
 used to think there was n't no place like your old 'un ; but 
 it was n't a touch to this purty spot !" and he gazed about 
 him with evident satisfaction, stroking the hounds that 
 loved to wander from their young master's presence to the 
 sunny room, where there was always a kind word and a 
 gentle pat for them. 
 
 " Archie's better, too," said the old woman with an ex 
 ultant chuckle, as she shuffled to the stairs-door to call her 
 grandson. 
 
 Patrick didn't think him better, as he noticed his 
 flushed cheek and trembling, fluttering frame, and he held 
 his hand a long time in his own, now counting the quick 
 pulse, now pressing it warmly and fondly. 
 
 " You '11 leave the books, my boy, and be more in the 
 garden, won't you ?" said he in an earnest, anxious tone. 
 " Depend upon it that 's the only thing for you." 
 
 Archie did not know what he meant by the " only 
 thing," neither could he tell why Patrick went so suddenly 
 out brushing his sleeve across his eyes, all the way to the 
 gate ; but the circumstance weighed with him, and it made 
 him jump from his study so soon as the least symptom of
 
 ARCHIBALD MACKIE. 319 
 
 wearinness came, and resort to his out-of-door occupations. 
 Kittie had gone off to boarding-school and the boy sadly 
 missed the white figure that he used to watch so fondly 
 for in the walk that led to his cottage. She would not 
 come again for many a year, and there was loneliness and 
 desolation in the very thought ; but so it must be, and he 
 strove to find solace in his books, and with his plants ; but 
 every thing recalled the past. His books were thrown 
 aside for awhile, because she was not there to question him 
 as to their contents, and the flowers were hueless and 
 scentless, since the eye that loved so to look upon them, 
 and the sense that delighted so in their sweet odor were 
 gone. Willie, too, missed the gentle cousin that bore his 
 caprices so patiently, and he murmured at the decree that 
 banished her from his presence. " She knew enough to 
 please him, and what more could they want ?" " That was 
 all such a little mouse as she was good for !" 
 
 The " little mouse," though, made a great hole in the 
 house, and there was nothing in all the big world that 
 could fill it acceptably to the lad, and so it remained 
 empty until the school-days should be accomplished, save 
 that her shadow was ever there, palpable to the vision of 
 the two lads at least. How differently was she cherished ! 
 by the one as a grateful sort of appendage that con 
 tributed vastly to his comfort in various ways to the 
 other as a guardian presence, inciting him to every virtue 
 and grace, and sanctifying and spiritualizing his whole
 
 320 ARCHIBALD MACKIE. 
 
 being. Strangest of all mysteries, the transforming power 
 of that wondrous and precious essence ! 
 
 Thanks be to Him who has so diffused it over this lower 
 world that there is no spot that may not be akin to 
 heaven !
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 MRS. LINCOLN'S time was wholly taken up in inventing 
 new pleasures for her son, so that she had not one moment 
 for the poor youth at the foot of the garden, who, but for 
 the benevolence and kindness of Kittie's mother, would 
 have led a weary life of it indeed. 
 
 Archie's father had, at last, laid down both trowel and 
 pipe, and was taking his long rest beside the dead wife. 
 The boy had purchased a small lot in a secluded and ro 
 mantic part of the cemetery, and there he had both parents 
 placed, in one wide grave, with the box of treasures between 
 them, and above them a large white cross with a simple in 
 scription. The lot was fenced around with a hawthorn 
 hedge, and here and there a rose bush grew luxuriantly. 
 There was room for himself and for the old grandmother 
 who was now terribly decrepit, so that she was unable to 
 take any care of the house, and Patrick Marsh had con 
 sented to let his little shanty and come, with good Molly 
 his wife, to look after the lad's comfort, for they had no 
 child, and Archie was nearer to them than any living 
 being. Good Molly was of rough and ungainly exterior, 
 14*
 
 322 AKOHIBALD MACKIE. 
 
 but within, the very impersonation of tenderness and love, 
 and this happy and blessed temperament had gained for 
 her so flattering an appellation wherever she was known. 
 Little children would gather around her in the street and 
 hold on by her apron or gown, fondling and caressing her 
 hands, and even her feet, as if she were some good angel 
 and so indeed was she to many a lone and forsaken one, 
 who had found care, and food, and shelter, beneath her 
 lowly but hospitable roof. It was n't strange then that, 
 with such a heart, Good Molly should consent to leave the 
 home that was endeared to her by a thousand associations 
 in order to watch over the failing and imbecile old woman 
 and her diseased and lonely grandson. 
 
 Neither she nor Patrick felt themselves competent to 
 mingle in the youth's higher and holier sympathies ; they 
 were conscious that they were of altogether a different 
 mold ; but there were bodily wants that none knew better 
 how to meet than the nice housewife, whose skill in such 
 matters few could contest. The dainty bit was ever tempt 
 ing, and the linen was pure and white, and the neat cham 
 ber inviting even to the most fastidious taste, so that there 
 would have been nothing wanting to Archie's comfort or 
 joy were it not for the void that but one could fill. " It 
 was foolish to think of her /" that he so oftea repeated to 
 himself, yet think of her and dream of her he did, and all 
 the time grew thinner and thinner, and paler and paler, 
 until he seemed some ghostly shadow moving about the 
 grounds. Five years had passed since she came down the
 
 ARCHIBALD MACK IK. 323 
 
 green slope and put her little hand in his to bid him a long 
 good-by. It was the summer time, and he remembers that 
 the old elm under -which he sat was just in the fullness and 
 glory of its foliage ; the hour, too, is distinctly in his mem 
 ory ; the dreary and sad twilight, and the breeze's soft play 
 over the waving grass, and the hum of the insects, and the 
 murmur of the city's noise that came pleasantly from the 
 distance, like the moving of far-off waters. Oh ! these 
 things can never die out of his remembrance. How 
 can they ! Does n't he cherish them religiously, coming 
 always at the vesper time to the same spot to live them 
 over and over again ? 
 
 Even through the dreary winters he but closes his eyes 
 and the verdure is there, and the beauty. 
 
 No need of that to-night, however, for the chilly season 
 has again passed away, and the old elm is rich in her 
 emerald robes, and the breath of the soft winds is upon 
 him, and the same murmur in his ear. There is only the 
 small hand and the gentle words wanting to make it all a 
 precious reality. Is it his fancy that at this moment brings 
 them so palpably to him? Is the vision of a graceful 
 figure, and a white dress, and a pure face beaming upon 
 him with the lovely expression only a delusion of his ex 
 cited mind ! Or is it really her own voice that comes to 
 him so earnestly. " Oh ! speak, Archie, pray speak ! don't 
 you remember Kittie ?" It was of no use to call upon him, 
 the shock was too much for his delicate organization, and 
 whiter than the spotless muslin was the brow that the
 
 324 AKCHIBALD MACK IE. 
 
 maiden loved, as she supported the drooping head, and 
 strove to recall the fainting breath. 
 
 O 
 
 His heart heat more painfully than ever as the warm life- 
 blood flowed evenly again, for that one moment had told 
 him that he loved, and the revelation was as death. To 
 linger upon the earth, to see and hear her continually, and 
 to press back the deep and springing emotions that were 
 ever welling up toward her. How could he do it ! it were 
 worse than death itself! And yet he spoke calmly and 
 naturally as she walked with him to the cottage, and 
 quietly watched her as she talked with the old people ; but 
 the light in his heart went out as she passed over the 
 threshold into the stilly night and the struggle was a 
 victorious one. 
 
 Kittie was pondering upon it all the agitation, and the 
 pallor, and the overwhelming joy, and a secret delight filled 
 her soul as she sought again the tree. There was no wav 
 ering of purpose as the vow went forth from that same 
 consecrated place to be true to the convictions that she 
 now felt. How long a period had elapsed since she stood 
 there before. She is no more forgetful of it than Archie, 
 and she draws forth from her bosom a tress of raven hair, 
 and looks upon it while it is bathed in the moonlight, 
 wondering, meantime, how she had dared to cut it from 
 his head as he leaned against this same tree so long, long 
 ago. True, he did not know it, it was so slyly done ; but 
 nothing could tempt her to a like act again. Not that she 
 is sorry for the deed ah ! no. This little talisman will ever
 
 ARCHIBALD MACK IE. 325 
 
 be most precious unto her. But the brow seemed so hal 
 lowed now ; there was a mystic light upon it, as though a 
 beam from Heaven were shining directly there, and a su 
 perstitious awe crept over the heart of the young maiden 
 as she remembered the cold dews that her hand had felt as 
 she stroked back the clustering locks.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE beauty, and luxury, and lavish tenderness that had 
 continually surrounded Willie during his cousin's absence, 
 brought no corresponding loveliness, and richness, and 
 gratitude within, and Kittie found it more difficult to bear 
 with the querulous, fitful temper than before her long sep 
 aration from him. Day after day he would require her to 
 sit with him reading aloud some foolish and distasteful 
 thing which was suited to his weak and uncultivated intel 
 lect ; or she must walk or ride, as he pleased, giving up 
 her own occupations and plans whenever they interfered 
 with his amusement. Time and again the question would 
 recur to her, " Why should I give myself up to the effort 
 to do good, where it is so evident that I can do nothing ?" 
 and then her aunt's kindness in giving her mother and her 
 self so welcome a home when thev were deprived of their 
 earthly supporter, and the wish to make some return for all 
 the love bestowed upon her in her uncle's house, induced 
 her to strive with renewed diligence to influence her cousin 
 to a holy and consistent life. He had so far been won by 
 her courteous example as to treat Archie with respect, and 
 even with a degree of cordiality, whenever they met ; but 
 the low-born, yet noble youth, felt the difference between
 
 ARCHIBALD MACKIE. 327 
 
 his patronizing regard and the ingenuous and free sym 
 pathy that the cousin manifested, and his dark eyes would 
 flash with a suppressed and hidden fire that nothing could 
 subdue like the gentle glance that so often sought his. 
 
 Was it only compassion for his terrible infirmity that 
 tinged the maiden's cheek and gave fervor to her every 
 tone, as she met him about the garden walks, or in the 
 humble cottage ? Was it only the loving and earnest na 
 ture, that could not help its warm and gushing impulses, 
 that caused the tear to suffuse her eye at every wound oc 
 casioned his sensitive heart by the thoughtless Willie 1 
 Was it naught but a generous interest that led her every 
 day to his humble home, with her books or drawings, to 
 ask aid of her uncle's protegee ? Or was he inflicting upon 
 himself a needless suffering, besides quenching the bright 
 ness of that young spirit which he would fain die to save 
 from SOITOW 1 Could it be that by one spoken word his 
 life and health might flow back upon him with new and 
 refreshing vigor ? The risk was too great. It might ban 
 ish forever from his sight the only object that made that 
 life endurable ; and so it remained unsaid, preying upon 
 the vitals and pressing him onward to the blessed haven of 
 rest rest from all doubts, rest from all infirmities and suf 
 ferings, rest from all painful labor, both physical and 
 mental, glorious, perfect, enduring rest ! 
 
 He felt the change that was drawing him from earth, 
 and rejoiced in it. It were better that she should think 
 of him as a spirit, divested of the covering that made him
 
 828 ARCHIBALD MA OKIE. 
 
 a loathsome mortal ! Even if he could know that her 
 every aftection clung to him, he would pray to go hence 
 before her eyes could be so cleared of the mists of love as 
 to see the hideousness of his imperfections. He had seen 
 her shudder as her cousin's arm was placed around her ; 
 and was he not more repulsive still ? Oh, how could he 
 ever dream of allying himself to a*n angel ? 
 
 The very thought of his " vanity" and forgetfulness was 
 humiliating, and Archibald Mackie shut himself up in his 
 chamber, and suffered, and prayed, and struggled alone ; 
 and came forth with a radiant brow, and a cheerful, peace 
 ful heart. He had done with the things of this life. The 
 dearest and best he had dropped from his grasp, and now 
 it was so easy to part with the rest. The dreams of his 
 youth had made his pathway green, and kept his mind off 
 the real evils. "What if they were but transient and fading 
 visions ? They had been of sufficient duration and bright 
 ness to cheer him in many an otherwise dreary walk ; and 
 they had not been without their influence upon the inner 
 soul that perchance would have sunk into an utter de 
 spondency and gloom but for these incentives to energy 
 and action. 
 
 No more dreaming now ; but a constant looking for 
 ward to the end of life's journey, and a steady and Tin- 
 wearied preparation for the final summons.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE summer was unspeakably beautiful to the dying 
 youth. To sit in his easy-chair beside the low window of 
 his loved chamber, and let his eyes wander over the 
 greenness and glory of nature, while his thoughts went 
 upward to the Paradise of immortal joys, or to rove lan 
 guidly about the grounds of his patron, supported by the 
 kind old man whose tenderness and care were ever ready, 
 or to recline upon a couch beside the door while Kittie 
 Fay talked to him in her pleasant sympathetic way, or 
 read to him in a low soft tone these things made up the 
 sum of his waning life, and imparted a quiet sort of rap 
 ture to every moment. Mahan Doughty now grown a 
 large and bashful girl came again with some simple 
 flowers, that recalled to him the distant years, and Sally 
 Bunt stood often beside him, not as of old with the newly- 
 laid egg ; but with nice broth from some favorite chicken, 
 whose head was as nothing, when the word came to the 
 old playmate that Archie was fading away. A great gulf 
 had separated them since he lived on the plain, for none 
 of his former associates had dared venture an intimacy 
 after his removal within the precincts of the "great
 
 330 ARCHIBALD MACK IK. 
 
 house ;" but an undying sympathy made a bridge over 
 the wide gulf, and they crossed and recrossed fearlessly, 
 to minister to their friend. 
 
 The imbecile old grandmother played with the thin 
 fingers of her idol boy, and laughed with an idiotic 
 chuckle as she looked upon the white face, calling him 
 her "gentleman," and wondering "how he came to have 
 such a delicate skin, when his father was brown and 
 tawny." 
 
 Patrick and Molly discussed the case of the sick youth 
 as often as they were left alone, with disconsolate and sad 
 dened hearts; and all that could cheer him with the 
 words of a comfort which they were far from feeling in 
 their own spirits, were the mother and daughter, who had 
 learned to look away from themselves in every grief and 
 sorrow, that they might be a blessing to others. The day 
 had been terribly oppressive, and both had been watch 
 ing the youth as he lay fainting and exhausted upon his 
 couch. Not one moment had they ceased fanning him 
 gently lest the weak breath would take its flight ; but now 
 a refreshing breeze was stirring the locks upon his tem 
 ples, and imparting to him a little strength, so that Kittie 
 could leave for a few moments to attend to her cousin 
 Willie, whose demands were more importunate upon her 
 than ever, since her time was required in the sick presence. 
 
 " How is Archie, to-night, Kittie ?" asked he, as his 
 cousin stepped lightly over the threshold, and seated her 
 self on the sofa beside him.
 
 ARCHIBALD MACKIE. 331 
 
 " He seems to revive a little," said she ; " Doctor Fincke 
 thinks he may yet linger for a few days, but I am fearful it 
 can not be to me he seems very weak and low." 
 
 " I am quite impatient for the end, Kittie," said Willie, 
 in a light and careless tone, " for I have a great deal to say 
 to you, and you are so taken up with this young man 
 that I really have not one moment of your time, lately. 
 It seems as if there might be a proper nurse found, without 
 your acting in that capacity." 
 
 "It is my pleasure, cousin Willie," said Kittie, in a 
 gentle and subdued voice. " Nothing could induce me to 
 lose the few last words of this dying saint. He seems 
 already to reflect the glory of the upper land, so that every 
 one around is blessed by its influence. Oh ! Willie, if you 
 would only learn from so pure an example to make this 
 life but the stepping-stone to a better and higher being, 
 instead of taking it for the only good, and giving up every 
 thought to it, it would be such a gain to yourself, and such 
 a joy to us all !" 
 
 " Would n't you like to go with me to see Archie ?" con 
 tinued she, a moment after, as her cousin had taken no 
 notice of her appeal. " He often speaks very kindly of you, 
 and I 'm sure it would give him pleasure to know that you 
 are truly his friend. 
 
 " But Kittie, what 's the use ! You know I don't care 
 any thing about the young man, and that it will be quite a 
 relief to me when he is no longer there to keep you from 
 me. I have never been to the cottage since he occupied it,
 
 332 AKCIIIBALD MACKIE. 
 
 and I don't mean to annoy myself with the sight of him 
 now. It would give me the horrors to see him die !" 
 
 Kittie did not urge the matter, but she felt how little 
 there was in the calm of that Christian soul to excite any 
 gloom or terror in the beholder, and so soon as she could 
 get away from her cousin she resumed her seat beside the 
 sick bed. She had a right to be there now not a word 
 had been spoken to tell her so; but the gentle heart 
 revealed itself to her in a silent, yet none the less intel 
 ligible way, and her own responded warmly and heartily.
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 " MOLLY, I dreamed of Kittie Fay last night," said old 
 Patrick, as he drew his chair up to his wife. " It seemed 
 as if she was weeping over a green grave, and as she stood 
 by it she was dressed all in white, like an angel, and all 
 about her was nothing but a barren waste. It made me 
 sad like to see her there, wife, and I went over the dark 
 space that lay between me and her to try to get her away, 
 but no, she would n't stir a step, and kept stooping to water 
 the grass and flowers, and then she pointed down to the 
 grave, and then up to heaven, and then laid her white hand 
 upon her heart. I woke up after that, Molly ; but that 
 dream won't leave me, I keep thinking on 't, and I 'm most 
 of a mind that these young folks have n't been so long to 
 gether for nothing. I believe, Molly, that there 's a reason 
 for our boy's fading away from us so all of a sudden, and 
 for the pale face that Miss Kittie carries with her." 
 
 " No, no, Patrick, you must n't be so full of your whims," 
 replied the good wife, in a whisper, as she pointed to the 
 half-open door, through which they could see the young 
 maiden bending over the couch to minister to Archie. 
 " You' ve forgot the station, man, you Ve forgot the station ;
 
 334 ARCHIBALD MACK IE. 
 
 it is kind and natural for her to interest her dear heart in 
 the sick lad ; but depend upon it there 's nothing deeper 
 greater -would be the sorrow if there was, Pat ! Besides," 
 she added, after a moment's silence, " there 's her cousin 
 Willie, they say, as much as engaged to her !" 
 
 " Fudge !" returned the old man, getting really excited ; 
 " a jackass of a fellow as ain't fit to hold a candle to our 
 Archie ? Never you fear, Molly, there '11 nothing come of 
 that ; I 'd sooner see her in her coffin first !" 
 
 " But you take it hard, man," answered his wife. " Don't 
 you know that they Ve been children together, and it is n't as 
 if she could see him with your eyes ; besides, he 's got a pow 
 er o' money, Patrick, and that covers up many a blemish." 
 
 " I tell ye, Molly, a mint of gold would n't make any 
 difference to the feelings o' that girl. Her heart 's with the 
 dying lad, and, mark my words, she '11 never marry that 
 simple cousin ; but she '11 cherish the green grave just as 
 she did in the dream, and her thoughts '11 be up in heaven 
 with the absent spirit." 
 
 " It will be desput lonesome here when he 's gone, 
 Patrick," sighed the old woman ; " but I s'pose it 's our duty 
 to take care of the grandmother as long as she lives !" 
 
 " To be sure, to be sure, Molly ! We '11 do well what 
 we 've undertaken, but I long to be back in the old shanty 
 by the water, I kinder miss the old ways. Nothing but the 
 lad would ever have brought me here, and he 's fast going ; 
 it won't be many mornings that we can sit and look in 
 even upon his sick-bed, Molly."
 
 ARCHIBALD M A C K I E . 335 
 
 They could n't talk about it any more, but they watched 
 the old grandmother as she clutched at the shadows that 
 the waving foliage made upon her white gown as she sat in 
 the outer door, and they wondered why it could not be 
 that she should go first, and the lad be spared them. 
 It was n't any good that she could do upon the earth, 
 it was n't any joy that she could ever again give ! Truly, 
 God's ways are not as our ways, nor His thoughts as 
 our thoughts ! Patrick and Molly could trust Him, even 
 though the dark cloud was spreading itself over their way, 
 and the sunshine was soon to be wholly removed from 
 their dwelling.
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE little room was darkened, and the still form was 
 freed from all its pains no more fear of the ridicule of an 
 unfeeling world no more struggling upward toward a 
 tottering eminence no more sighings after a higher sym 
 pathy than a narrow sphere can insure no more trem 
 blings and palpitations lest the desired good vanish from the 
 sight no more sinning nor sorrowing ; but the quiet figure 
 lay peaceful and still beneath the pure covering, with the 
 bright flowers above and loving hearts around. There are 
 no outbursts of anguish in the presence of the hallowed 
 dead, but a calmness that speaks of the hope of a resur 
 rection. The mother and her daughter are alone with the 
 departed, and, as they look upon his placid features, Kittie 
 recalls the time when she met him, years ago, in the 
 scorching noontide heat, and contrasted his forlorn and 
 pitiable condition with the pampered and luxurious state 
 of her cousin Willie, and, as her mother's words recur to 
 her, " Perhaps not a pity that he has not Willie's blessings, 
 dear Kittie." She echoes in her own heart, " not a pity, not 
 not a pity !" 
 
 Oh ! no ; the pity now is all for the high-born lad, whose
 
 ARCHIBALD HACKIE. 337 
 
 privileges are all wasted and perverted, and could she 
 choose for herself one of these two lives, she Avould not 
 hesitate to take the lowly cottage on the plain, with all its 
 sad inconveniences and distasteful accompaniments, with the 
 exalted Christian mind, rather than the glory, and beauty, 
 and ease of the great house, with the weakened intellect 
 and the brutish soul. 
 
 There is a small trunk in Archie's chamber, with a card 
 nailed upon the top, and the inscription, "Miss Kitty Fay ;" 
 and Patrick lifts it reverently, with no vain curiosity, and 
 carries it to the " great house." He knows that it contains 
 many a manuscript that helped to dry up the fount of life. 
 They are all dedicated to Kittie, who inspired them ; and 
 it is a great comfort to be reading them over while he is 
 lying there as if asleep and unable to speak. They make 
 every thing plain to her concerning the past, and they con 
 firm her in the vow that was made beneath the old elm, 
 long ago. It is such a treasure, that precious legacy ; so 
 filled with beautiful thoughts, and so free from earthly dross. 
 Besides, it is all her own, sacred from the world. No 
 other eye has ever seen it, and nobody else can ever know 
 the secret workings of the great mind that is no longer 
 clogged by the crippled body. 
 
 The old leather portfolio has come to a blessed use the 
 comforting and supporting the afflicted. Much need is 
 there, too, of comfort where the wound is so deeply hidden. 
 Nobody knows Kittie's secret ; not even her fond mother 
 discerns more than a natural solemnity at the presence of 
 15
 
 338 ARCHIBALD MACKIE. 
 
 death. It is so hard to go about the house with a cheerful 
 face and an apparent indifference, when the full heart would 
 fain express itself freely. But harder still was it for Kittie 
 to be subjected to her cousin's importunities at a time 
 when she had scarcely room for a common sympathy for 
 him. 
 
 She had walked out alone, and had sought the old elm ; 
 it was so soothing to be there, with no eye to observe her 
 emotion. Why should Willie seek her then of all times 
 in the world ? and for such a purpose ! 
 
 " It can not be, Willie you know it can not be," said 
 she, in firm and decided accents. 
 
 "But I have set my heart upon it, Kittie," replied her 
 cousin. " You see, we have been much together, and I am 
 used to your ways, and I don't think I could easily find 
 any body else that would exactly suit me, so I Ve concluded 
 it is best to have the matter arranged immediately. There 
 is nothing in the way but this funeral, and that will be over 
 to-morrow, and what do you say to Monday week, Kittie ? 
 Will that be soon enough, my birdie ?" and the too confi 
 dent youth drew near and reached out his arm to encircle 
 her waist, but she was no longer there. 
 
 " Soon enough !" What ! to be wedded to a compound 
 of the most hideous deformity ! " Soon enough !" To blot 
 out the memory of the pure and immortal one, and to link 
 herself to a revolting and miserable object ! It were better 
 to be lying peacefully beneath the green earth than to 
 walk about a living corpse, with but the semblance of ani-
 
 ARCHIBALD 31 A C K I E . 339 
 
 mation. What mockery it seemed to her as she stood by 
 the silent dead ! The pet name, too, was almost an insult 
 to the pure and loving heart that had smothered its spring 
 ing affections, until the life also was crushed and gone. 
 Oh ! that she could tear out the remembrance of her 
 cousin's weakness and folly so that she need abate noth 
 ing of her accustomed kindness and attention. Henceforth 
 she must withhold from him even the natural sympathy 
 which his infirmities demand, and perhaps be forced to add 
 another tinge to the bitterness of his fate, by a constant 
 coldness and indifference toward him. 
 
 Poor child ! the ills of life come seldom singly, yet how 
 much greater is the might that can rise above and conquer 
 a complication of sorrows. There was strength for Kittie 
 in the contemplation of the serene face that was before her 
 so free from every shadow that had darkened it when 
 animate. There were exhortations to patience in its hal 
 lowed expression, and lessons upon the nothingness of our 
 temporary trials, and inspiring promises of the end that 
 glorious end that will compensate for all our sad begin 
 nings. No wonder Kittie Fay was more than ever tranquil 
 as she stepped again within the circle of her home ; and no 
 wonder the wound that lay deeply hidden was ususpected 
 there. 

 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 " COME, come Archie, my son, don't be fooling with 
 your old grandmother. What does it all mean ? Is it a 
 wedding, boy ? Ah, yes, I mind me now ; it was just so 
 when your father was married, this day forty years ago 
 posies all about, on the dresser, on the bed roses and 
 pansies, and 'bundance o' green stuff every where," and the 
 unconscious idiot touched the cold hands, and put her 
 arms around the stiff neck, laying her wrinkled face to 
 the youth's cheek, and then she would dress his hair with 
 the flowers, weaving fantastic garlands, and twining them 
 in and out, amid the damp locks. It was thus they found 
 her old Patrick and Molly as they entered the silent 
 room on the morning of Archie's funeral. " Is the bride 
 ready ?" asked she, unwinding her arms from the lad, and 
 smoothing down her dress, as if to make herself presenta 
 ble, "because," she continued, advancing toward Molly, 
 and pointing to the couch, " he 's waiting for her. 'T is a 
 beautiful home they '11 have, I never dreamed of any thing 
 so pretty ; but he whispered it to me golden streets, and 
 pearls, and rivers of water, and trees with all manner of 
 fruit 'tis worth while to be his bride ! I never thought 
 
 O 
 
 our Archie 'd come to all this good !"
 
 ARCHIBALD MA OKIE. 341 
 
 Molly put the flowers back in their places, and composed 
 the limbs cnce more, and then gently led the old woman 
 to her arm-chair in the outer room, where she relapsed 
 into her quiet dosing way until all was over. Once only 
 she looked up as they bore the remains from the dwelling, 
 and asked in a deprecating voice, " why Archie did n't 
 take her with him ;" but his name did not escape her after 
 that. The rest of her days were a blank. 
 
 Close beside his mother in a green grave they placed the 
 crippled form, that was to come forth in the resurrection, 
 perchance the more glorified for its earthly trial. Groups 
 of ragged urchins from the common were there, respectful 
 and solemn. Old playmates that were now men and 
 women gathered around the coffin and wept as they re 
 membered the past. Sally Bunt and Mahan Doughty 
 were among them, but the sincerest mourners save one 
 were Patrick and Molly, who had watched the young man 
 from his infancy up, and had placed all their hopes upon 
 him. Bowed and broken, the old man returned to the 
 desolate cottage to minister to the doting grandmother, 
 whose only claims upon him were that she was allied to 
 the dead. Day after day would he and Molly ascend to 
 the little chamber to spend all their weary leisure. There 
 were his books, just as he had left them, with one opened 
 and turned down upon the table. There were his clothes, 
 hung by his own hand upon the wall, and there were the 
 pictures with which his native talent had adorned the 
 room.
 
 342 ARCHIBALD MACKIE. 
 
 Oh ! was not the deep affection of the two simple hearts 
 that beat so fondly to his memory, a worthy tribute ? Is 
 there more value in mines of gold and silver, or in the 
 adoration of a fickle multitude, than in the unobtrusive 
 homage of those loving and true, though humble ones. 
 
 Every effort of his untaught genius was to them as 
 wondrous and beautiful as if from the pencil of a Raphael 
 or Titian. Every object of his pleasure or regard was 
 treasured as a sacred thing. Even the withered flowers 
 that had bedecked his death-couch were preserved with 
 pious care, and no unloving hand could touch a single 
 article that had once felt the impress of the now palsied 
 fingers. There was still one solace for the bereaved old 
 couple, and that was the frequent visits of Kittie, who 
 seemed to them linked in a mysterious manner with the 
 departed. 
 
 There was a real pleasure to the three, to speak together 
 of the absent one whose exalted merit they only knew; 
 and the maiden grew more calm and resigned from the in 
 tercourse. Yet the grave in the beautiful cemetery was 
 none the less green in her memory, and the white hand 
 pointed none the less often from it to her heart, and thence 
 upward to heaven. 
 
 THE END .
 
 RUTH HALL: 
 
 A Domestic Talc of the Present, Time. 
 
 BY FANNY FERN. 
 
 I Vol. I2mb. pp. 400. Price $1.25. 
 
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 LIFE OF HORACE GREELEY, 
 
 Editor of the New York Tribune. 
 
 BY J. PARTON. 
 
 Elegantly Illustrated, i Vol. I2mo., 442 pp. Price $1.25. 
 
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 pendent Democrat. 
 
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 " Worthy of a place by the side of the life of Benjamin Franklin." Hartford Religion.'' 
 Herald. 
 
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 " A faithful and full history of a man whom the public want to know all about." Ellens- 
 ville Journal. 
 
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 3fiddleto>cn Standard.
 
 O L I E; 
 
 OR, THE OLD WEST ROOM 
 The Weary at Work and the Weary at Rest. 
 
 BY L. M. M. 
 
 I Vol. I2mo., 456 pp. Price $1.25. 
 
 " A simple, charming story." N. Y. Evening Mirror. 
 
 " The author is master of that magic which transmutes fictitious characters into real 
 personages." Philadelphia Eve. Argus. 
 
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 " A very charming story, delicate iu its sentiment, and calculated to refine as well as 
 please." Boston Traveler. 
 
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 sublime pathos." -Boston Puritan Recorder. 
 
 " Charmingly written, and truthful in portraiture." Dayton (O.) Gazette. 
 " Calculated to make the reader wiser and better." Boston UncU Samuel. 
 > " Its delineations of domestic life are perfect ; its language poetic and eloquent." N. Y. 
 Daybook. 
 
 " The work abounds with beautiful passages." Portland Inquirer. 
 
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 Y orl.-er. 
 
 " A work of extraordinary merit." Dutchess Democrat. 
 
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 E 'tangelist. 
 
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 ' AH shall be the better for the reading of ' Olie.' " American Index. 
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 ' ' A rich tone of moral harmony runs all through its flower garden of sympathy and' 
 lov : e." Peelakill Eagle. 
 
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 CWUMi 
 
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 ' 
 
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 *' We cordially recommend it to our readers." V. S. Review. 
 
 " Those who were so delighted with ' The Lamplighter,' will be charmed with ' OHe.' " 
 Pfterfon's Magazine. 
 
 " Greatly superior to the mass of domestic novels." Dflaira re < 
 
 " The dialogue is unaffected, the plot simple and natural, and there are dashes by turns 
 of true pathos and sentiment." JV. I'. Saturday Courier.
 
 CONE CUT CORNERS: 
 
 The Experience of a Conservative Family in Fanatical Times ; 
 
 Including some Account of a Connecticut Village, the 
 
 People who lived in it, and those who came 
 
 there from the city. 
 
 BY BENAULYo 
 
 I Vol. izmo., 456 pp. Price $1.25. Elegantly Illustrated. 
 
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 which has fallen in our way for many a day." Boston Traveler. 
 
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 Mercury. 
 
 " One of the best temperance stories ever written." Bridgeport (Conn.) Standard. 
 
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 ' ' A regular Yankee story a vein of humor running through the whole of it. ' ' Bridgeport 
 (.Conn ) farmer. 
 
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 nature within him." Boston Post. 
 
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 " Written in a style of charming sprightliness." Springfield <3fast. )
 
 THE R AG-P I CK E R; 
 
 OB, 
 
 BOUND AND FREE. 
 
 i Vol., izmo. 442 pp. Price $1.25. 
 
 " This is a most stirring and pathetic story, illustrating the terrible power of human 
 depravity on the one hand, and the importance of using the most efficient means to counter 
 act it on the other. T.ho author assures us that his statements are throughout nothing but 
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 narrative, and the best in its execution. The characters are drawn from nature ; we need 
 no preface to tell us that, for they speak, think, and act to the life. * * * The nps and 
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 homily on the fickleness of fortune, and furnish an example which the proudest aristocrat 
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 terest of the narrative is well sustained." Boston Atlas. 
 
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 tian Chronicle, Phila. 
 
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 plete with life lessons drawn from life scenes." Boston Christian Freeman. 
 
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 with more profound sympathies for the unfortunate of our race." Dayton Gazette. 
 
 " A most readable and interesting book." Fott^rVlc Rryi*ti:r.
 
 DR. LOWELL MASON'S 
 C H U R C H M U SIC. 
 
 THE HALLELUJAH. A book for the Service of Song in the House of 
 
 the Lord, containing tunes, chants, and anthems, both for the choir and congregation ; to 
 which is prefixed the Singing School, a manual for classes in vocal music, with exercises, 
 rounds, and part songs, for choir practice ; also, Musical Notation in a Nut-shell ; a brief 
 course for singing-schools, intended for skillful teachers and apt pupils. By LOWELL 
 MASON. $1. Do. cloth extra, $1 25. 
 
 The publication of this. Df. Mason's last work, was looked for with great interest by the 
 musical public, as he had enjoyed peculiar advantages, and bestowed extraordinary labor in 
 its preparation. It has not disappointed the expectations with regard to it. Thus far it has 
 proved the most successful work of its class ever published, and it is believed that it will 
 take its place by the side of " Carmina Sacra," by the same- author, as a standard work in 
 its department. 
 
 CANTICA LAUDIS; or, the American Book of Church Music; being 
 chiefly a selection of chaste and elegant melodies from the most classic authors, ancient 
 and modern, with harmony parts ; together with anthems and other set pieces for choirs and 
 singing-schools ; to which are added tunes for congregational singing. By LOWELL MASON 
 and GEORGE JAMES WEBB. $1. 
 
 THE CARMINA SACRA; or, Boston Collection of Church Music, com 
 prising the most popular psalm and hymn tunes in general use, together with a great 
 variety of new tunes, chants, sentences, motetts, and anthems, principally by distinguished 
 European composers ; the whole being one of the most complete collections of music for 
 choirs, congregations, singing-schools, and societies extant. By LOWELL MASON. $1. 
 
 NEW CARMINA SACRA; or, Boston Collection of Church Music. 
 This book is a careful and thorough revision of the favorite work heretofore published J 
 under the same title. The object has been to retain the most valuable and universa^ lly 
 pleasing part of the former work as the basis of the new, omitting such portions as expr ri- 
 ence had proved to be the least serviceable and popular, and substituting choice tuj; DCS 
 and pieces selected from the whole range of the author's previous works ; appending, alsojf ad 
 ditional pages of entirely new and interesting music, from other sources. In its present Oji"nn 
 it undoubtedly comprises one of the best collections of sacred music ever published. $!. \ 
 ** More than 400,003 copies of the " Carmina Sacra" have been sold. 
 
 THE BOSTON ACADEMY'S COLLECTION OF CHURCH MUSIC./ 
 
 By LOWELL MASON. Published under direction of the Boston Academy of Music. $1. \ 
 
 THE PSALTERY. A new Collection of Church Music. By LOWEL^L 
 MASON and GEORGE J. WEBB. Published under the direction and with the sanction o*T 
 the Boston Academy of Music, and of the Boston Handel and Haydn Society. $1. 
 
 THE NATIONAL PSALMIST. A collection of the mout popular aAd 
 
 useful Psalm and Hymn tunes, together with a great variety of new tunes, anthems, sf cn- 
 teuces, and chants forming a most complete manual of church music for choirs, congi lega 
 tions, singing-classes, and musical associations. By LOWELL MASON and G. J. WEBB. ' $1. 
 
 THE CONGREGATIONAL TUNE BOOK. A collection of popinlar 
 and approved tunes, suitable for congregational use. By LOWELL MASON and G. J. WE BB. 
 30 cents. 
 
 BOOK OF CHANTS. Consisting of selections from the Scriptures, 
 
 adapted to appropriate music, and arranged for chanting, designed for congregational us-s 
 in public or social worship. By LOWELL MASON. 12mo, cloth. 75 cents. 
 
 THE BOSTON ANTHEM BOOK. Being a selection of Anthems t-nd 
 other pieces. By LOWELL MASON. SI ?">. 
 THE BOSTON CHORUS BOOK. Enlarged ; consisting of a new 
 
 selection of popular choruses, from the works of Handel, Haydn, and other eminent com 
 posers, arranged in full Vocal score, with an accompaniment for the Organ or Piano Forte. 
 Compiled by LOWELL MASON and G. J. WEBB. 75 cents.
 
 
 
 M ""' 'I'll Kill Hill IIIK |