THE 
 
 SUNNY SIDE; 
 
 OE, 
 
 THE COUNTRY MINISTER S WIFE. 
 
 RETISED BY THE COMMITTEE OP PUBLICATION. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA ! 
 AMERICAN SUNDAY-SCHOOL UNION, 
 
 No. 146 CHESTNUT STREET. 
 
 NBW YORK, No. 147 Nassau Street BOSTON, No. 
 
 LOUISVILLE, No. 103 Fourth, Street. 
 
Entered according to Act of Congress in (Jie year 1851, by iht 
 
 AMERICAN SUNDAY-SCHOOL UNION, 
 in the Clerk s Office of the District Cowt of tb> Eastern District . 
 Pennsylvania. 
 
 <&&= No books are published by the AMERICAN SUNDAY-SCHOOL UNION 
 without the sanction of the Committee, of Publication, consisting of four 
 teen members, from the following denominations of Christians, viz. Bap 
 tist, Methodist, Congregationalist, Episcopal, Presbyterian, Lutheran, and 
 Reformed Dutch. Not more than three of the members can be of the samt 
 denomination, and no book can be published to which any member <:f th* 
 Committee shall object. 
 
f 
 
 > , 
 
 NOTE. 
 
 THE scene of the incidents in this volume 
 lies in New England ; and many of the terms 
 which occur in it, as well as many of the cus 
 toms to which allusion is made, have a local 
 significancy, which we presume will be readily 
 understood. The present edition has been re 
 vised and enlarged by the Author. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 FAQS 
 
 CHAP. L THE PASTOR ELECT 9 
 
 II. THE NEW HOME 15 
 
 III. THE BREAKFAST-CHAT 24 
 
 IV. THE MINISTER S COMPANY 33 
 
 V. DEMAND AND EFFORT 38 
 
 VI. PERPLEXITIES AND PURPOSES 48 
 
 VII. THE COMPROMISE 54 
 
 VIII. VISIT TO BOSTON 58 
 
 IX. PRESENTS 68 
 
 X. HARD TIMES 77 
 
 XI. GOING TO COLLEGE 81 
 
 XII. THE PACKING 87 
 
 XIII. TROUBLES 95 
 
8 CONTENTS, 
 
 PAOB 
 
 CHAP. XIV. HOPING ON 101 
 
 XV. THE FIRST WELCOME HOME 104 
 
 XVI. THE OLD PLAID CLOAK 107 
 
 XVII. THE BROADCLOTH CLOAK 118 
 
 XVIII. THE LETTER HOME 124 
 
 XIX. THE SECOND WELCOME HOME 131 
 
 XX. AN UNEXPECTED PROPOSAL 138 
 
 XXL THE WEDDING-FEE 144 
 
 XXIL THE SACRIFICE 153 
 
 XXIIL TROUBLE WITH GEORGE 1C6 
 
 XXIV. HENRY S Box 172 
 
 XXV. THE RETROSPECT 183 
 
 XXVI. THE REWARD..., . 19 
 
THE 
 
 SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE PASTOR ELECT. 
 
 OXE pleasant summer afternoon, Mr. Ed 
 wards, a young clergyman, rode over from 
 Lynnfield to Weston. These are two quiet 
 villages in New England. He rode alone, for 
 his friend, Miss Emily Harding, could not be 
 persuaded to accompany him at this time. He 
 had received an invitation from the church in 
 Weston to become their pastor, and was to be 
 ordained on the following day. 
 
 The drive was a delightful one. Much of it 
 took him through still pine woods. The horse s 
 feet fell softly, as if on velvet, and the summer- 
 flies buzzed drowsily, and now and then a squir- 
 
10 THE SUNXT SIDE. 
 
 rel chirped, or a bird sang a pleasant song. 
 Our young minister was very thoughtful. To 
 his excited mind, the road over which he was 
 passing seemed like a rainbow bridge, which wa3 
 linking two parts of his life together his life 
 of preparation and his life of service. Of the 
 one he was now taking his leave ; on the other 
 he was about to enter. His thoughts and affec 
 tions would linger around past scenes, and he 
 could not bid them adieu without regret ; yet the 
 future beckoned him on invitingly. In his heart 
 he was glad to go to work, though he thought 
 he knew his work would be one of great 
 care and toil. Hope buckled upon him shining 
 armour. He was full of youthful zeal, and he 
 said, " I am ready for the conflict Through 
 Christ strengthening me, I can do all things." 
 Then he thought of his people ; of what they 
 seemed most to need in the way of instruction ; 
 of the plans for their improvement which would 
 be most likely to be successful. His mind was 
 fertile in projects ; and his imagination, taking 
 the reins, soon drove on to results. Beneath 
 his fostering care, his charge grew in wisdom 
 and grace. He would make the most of him 
 self, for their sakes ; and his affections warmed 
 towards them, and he thanked God that He had 
 
THE PASTOR ELECT. 11 
 
 given him such a work to do, and prayed that 
 he might be faithful unto the end. 
 
 Then she who was to share his labour and 
 joy recalled him to present practical domestic 
 arrangements. On the next day he was to be 
 ordained a very important event surely ; but 
 on the week following he anticipated one 
 scarcely less important. He began to wonder 
 if they had not made a mistake in the order of 
 these events. Could he do full justice to his 
 first sermon, with that event in such immediate 
 prospect ? As if to speed the time a little, he 
 drew his whip across his pony s ears, who, 
 feeling insulted by so smart a blow, started 
 off at a round trot, and soon brought his driver 
 out of the still woods into the village of 
 Weston. 
 
 He had not been in Weston before, since his 
 acceptance of the call. With what different 
 eyes he now beheld it ! How was its beauty 
 and importance increased! With what real 
 interest he looked on the thriving farms ! Pony, 
 as if to give him plenty of time for his survey, 
 fell back into his sober jog.^ Several indivi 
 duals recognised Mr. Edwards. The school 
 children climbed a stone wall, and gave a 
 "hurrah for the new minister." He rode by 
 
12 THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 them smilingly, with his hat off, and made them 
 his firm friends. 
 
 Pony was now climbing a hill, near the top 
 of which stood the church ; so he must needs 
 walk a liberty which his driver scarcely no 
 ticed. He was thinking of other things. Away 
 on his right, there was the handsomest house in 
 Weston, and the richest man lived in it: his 
 name was Dodge. But, alas ! Mr. Edwards 
 had already heard that he was miserly. A 
 sermon on the privilege of self-denial occurred 
 to him. He decided to preach it in due time. 
 
 Now he was passing a demure-looking dwell 
 ing, and instantly this sermon vanished from 
 his mind, for it was there Deacon* Jones lived, 
 and at the thought of him our young friend s 
 brow clouded. His slight acquaintance with 
 him had quite confirmed the common report 
 that he was a peculiar man. A good man he 
 was generally believed to be, yet no one liked 
 him. There seemed to be some curious twist 
 in his make, which nothing would fit. If the 
 church started any movement, it was almost 
 morally certain he would oppose it. He helped 
 along no plan which did not originate with 
 himself. Notwithstanding his goodness, he 
 made so much trouble for the church at Weston, 
 
 * An officer of the Congregational or Independent Church. 
 
THE PASTOR ELECT. 13 
 
 that in a fit of desperation they chose him to 
 the deacon ship, thinking this would enlist his 
 energies on the side of good order. It was 
 "jumping out of the frying-pan into the fire." 
 He so <( magnified his office," that the Weston 
 pulpit went for some time begging. Yet, after 
 all, there was no one in the parish who was so 
 kind to the poor, so attentive to the sick, lived so 
 simply and gave away so generously, as Deacon 
 Jones. It seemed as if the church could neither 
 do without him nor with him. 
 
 "Ah me!" sighed Mr. Edwards, "I am 
 afraid? I shall find the thorn there." His last 
 conversation with one of his elderly friends oc 
 curred to him. Said he, as he followed him to 
 the door. ;>nd bade him good-by, " Now, when 
 you are settled, if you find a crooked stick in 
 your parish in the shape of an unruly deacon, 
 don t hope to get rid of the trouble by running 
 away: you will find one everywhere." 
 
 Pony now had left the demure house quite 
 behind him, and was approaching pleasanter 
 objects. There was the church, with its hand 
 some spi : . , ond pleasant green blinds all freshly 
 painted as pretty a church as a man could 
 desire ; and nearly opposite was the dear little 
 parsonai: . v v ith its liberal yard and new fence 
 
14 
 
 THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 and thriving-shade trees. "There we shal, 
 live," thought Mr. Edwards. Then the clock 
 in the church-steeple struck six. This was 
 Deacon Emery s tea-hour ; so pony could linger 
 no longer at the parsonage, however much he 
 might be inclined to do so. 
 
THE NEW HOME. 15 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE NEW HOME. 
 
 THOUGH an ordination was no new thing at 
 Weston, yet it made quite a stir. At an early 
 hour, people came riding in from the neighbour 
 ing villages, and the church was filled to over 
 flowing. A very liberal dinner was provided 
 at the tavern a measure which, by the way, 
 was something new, and was proposed by Dea 
 con Jones. 
 
 The ordination services, as a whole, were 
 unusually interesting ; and the new minister 
 pleased every one. For the admiration of the 
 ladies, he was undoubtedly indebted much to 
 his personal appearance. His countenance 
 was one which readily betrayed feeling, and 
 he appeared to great advantage. His manner 
 also was warm-hearted and cordial, and this 
 won the regard of the older people. 
 
 After the services, a few with whom Mr. 
 Edwards had become somewhat familiar crowded 
 
 around him to inquire about his health and his 
 2 
 
16 THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 plans. Said an old man to him, " We want you to 
 bring your wife now, and settle down, for we 
 hear you have got one picked out. On six 
 hundred dollars, we think you can live pretty 
 snug with us." 
 
 Mr. Edwards smiled, and told him that he 
 intended to do so, and should be absent the 
 next week on his wedding tour. After his 
 ordination, he had no time to think of the 
 weighty cares of his new office ; for the Sab 
 bath was fast approaching, and the first ser 
 mons for the occasion pressed him hard. He 
 wrote night and day. He did not wish to dis 
 appoint his people : he was determined to do 
 his best, but he could not satisfy himself. He 
 wrote and re-wrote, till the bell tolled, and 
 then entered his pulpit dissatisfied. After so 
 much excitement, Monday morning found him 
 of course quite exhausted. Then came pre 
 parations for his wedding then the wedding 
 itself and the journey and the visit home to 
 introduce to his widowed mother the chosen 
 wife of her only son then the exchange on 
 the following Sabbath. So, to say the least, 
 he was scarcely rested when he arrived at Wes- 
 ton on the Tuesday following with his bride. 
 
 For a particular account of their reception 
 
THE NEW HOME. 17 
 
 we are indebted to Mrs. Edwards s private jour 
 nal ; and from the same source we must draw 
 our most interesting accounts of the domestic 
 history of this minister s family. 
 
 (FROM THE JOURNAL.) 
 
 We reached my father s, on our return from 
 our wedding tour, about noon. He and mother 
 were as delighted to see me as if I had returned 
 from Europe. I have never been away from 
 them much. After dinner, we left home and 
 started for Weston. Home ! I suppose I must 
 not say that any more. Father, by the way, 
 had made us a present of a fine horse and buggy. 
 We shall take a world of comfort in it. How 
 my pen lingers around the old spot ! If I do 
 not hurry, I shall never get to Weston* 
 
 It was a beautiful ride there. Prince took 
 us over in about four hours. How grateful I 
 am that we are to live so near home, (there it 
 is again.) It seems to me my " cup runneth 
 over" with mercies; I hope my heart acknow 
 ledges my heavenly Father s care in it all ; 
 indeed, I think I do love to acknowledge this. 
 
 I shall not soon forget this ride. Henry 
 and I talked with each other more freely about 
 our feelings and plans, our hopes and fears, 
 
18 THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 than we had ever yet done. I ventured to tell 
 him what anxieties had harassed me; how 
 often I had trembled when I thought of what 
 was before me ; how totally unfitted it seemed 
 to me I was for a minister s wife. I felt that I 
 could love his people I could love any one 
 who loved him, but to take the lead among 
 them would be painful to me. To be an object 
 of notice, to be looked upon as a model poor 
 I ! who needed myself so much to be taught 
 and led ! He told me to banish all such need 
 less anxieties, and comforted me by making 
 the path a little plain before me. Said he : 
 " Just act yourself j Emily, without any regard 
 to what others will expect or think. Let your 
 own conscience be your guide in the new cir 
 cumstances in which you will be placed ; satisfy 
 that, and you need nothing more." I know I 
 have a sincere desire to do what in all things 
 will be best for his people ; but my mind is in 
 some confusion as to what exactly a minister s 
 wife should aim to be. I have before me a 
 very good, very proper, very thankful kind of 
 a lady, dressed in a straw bonnet trimmed with 
 green ribbon, but this does not help me much. 
 I am very long in getting to Weston longer 
 than Prince was. It see-med to me we had 
 
THE NEW HOME. 19 
 
 but just started when Henry pointed with his 
 whip to a tall spire, which showed finely on a 
 background of blue clouds "There is my 
 church, Emily." Were we really so near? 
 I began to tremble he laughed at me a little 
 I wished the introduction over. Said he, 
 " We will ride quietly into our own yard, and 
 perhaps see no one till to-morrow." I suppose 
 he did half believe it, but only half. Soon we 
 turned into Elm street. To my astonishment, 
 it was filled with people dressed in their Sun 
 day best, who seemed to be all hurrying in one 
 direction. 
 
 " What does it mean ?" said I. 
 
 Henry laughed. 
 
 " I don t know, I am sure, unless they are 
 going to pay their respects to the bride." 
 
 I felt that my time had come, and I must 
 meet it in a manner worthy of his bride. I 
 tried to quiet myself, but by this time it was 
 difficult, for we were recognised, and though 
 every one bowed to him, I felt that they looked 
 at me. So many bright faces I had never seen 
 at once. I looked at Henry. His speaking 
 eye told me plainly how much he was pleased. 
 I struggled still more to regain my composure, 
 
 2* 
 
20 THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 that I might meet his people as he would wish 
 me to meet them. 
 
 We drove up to our own house, but I had no 
 time then to notice it. It seemed to be filled 
 with people, and doors and windows were all 
 opened. Prince stopped at the little white gate. 
 Deacon and Mrs. Emery stood there, and cor 
 dially welcomed us to Weston. Deacon Emery 
 offered me his arm, and with faltering steps I 
 went up the path. Deacon and Mrs. Jones 
 received us at the door, and as cordially wel 
 comed us to our new home. My hat and shawl 
 were taken off by some one, and I was ushered 
 into a parlour already filled. I looked around 
 timidly for Mr. Edwards, but I could scarcely 
 find him. I was introduced, and introduced. 
 I shook hands with all who came, and tried to 
 look pleased, but, to tell the truth, I was both 
 frightened and bewildered. The rooms were 
 oppressively warm : I was tired : I was afraid I 
 should fall. I leaned against a chair for sup 
 port; the buzzing became more and more in 
 distinct ; I really did not know what I said or 
 did. Mrs. Jones was the first to observe my 
 embarrassment, and she quietly took me out of 
 the room, and led me round to the back-stairs. 
 
 "You look very tired," said she; "just slip 
 
THE NEW HOME. 21 
 
 up into that room and lock yourself in. I will 
 call you when tea is ready." 
 
 "Tea!" thought I, "am I to serve, or to be 
 served?" Whatever was yet to be done, I was 
 in need enough of present quiet. A few minutes 
 more of that heat and excitement, and I think I 
 should have fainted. Now I threw myself 
 into a chair, shut my eyes, and tried to rally 
 my scattered senses. Soon I heard a step I 
 well knew, and a tap at the door. " Are you 
 able to go down to tea?" asked Henry, when 
 admitted. 
 
 "Oh, yes," said I, "I am rested now. I 
 will brush off the dust a little. I feel much 
 better." 
 
 We were met on the stairs by Deacon Jones, 
 who with some formality ushered us into the 
 tea-room. Tables were set here, loaded with 
 niceties. Hot tea and coffee had been prepared, 
 and were handed round by the young ladies. 
 All seemed to be enjoying themselves. When 
 tea was over, there was some bustle among the 
 young men. A line was formed, and an ori 
 ginal hymn was well sung. This was their wel 
 come to the new pastor. Henry felt it, and replied 
 to it eloquently; then he made the closing 
 prayer. After this came shaking of hands, 
 
22 THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 and shaking of hands, and invitations to call 
 call call. But with due consideration for us, 
 by eight o clock Henry and I were alone in 
 the parsonage. 
 
 "Emily" said he, pretty soon "are you 
 too tired to look over the house to-night?" I 
 was very impatient to do so, for as yet I had 
 really seen nothing. My furniture had been 
 sent the week before, and I knew ^hat some of 
 the people were to unpack it for us. They had 
 not only done this, but had made the carpets 
 and arranged every thing. 
 
 Our first visit was to the study. Here we found 
 a handsome book-case, presented, it seemed, by 
 the young men. Henry s books had been taken 
 from his box, and nearly filled it. I thought 
 we had quite a little library to begin with. 
 Henry was inclined to stop and laugh a while 
 at the order in which the books had been placed, 
 but I shut the door and would not let him. We 
 went back to the parlour. How nice and new 
 and pretty it looked simple as was my furni 
 ture ! Here we found a handsome rocking-chair 
 and some mantel-lamps, placed there by the 
 young ladies. In the chamber over this was 
 an album-bedquilt made by the children ; and 
 indeed in every room we found some testimonial 
 
THE NEW HOME. 23 
 
 of the good-will of the people. They had 
 manifested so much in our reception, that it 
 seemed to me I already loved them. They 
 were our first " people," and this was our first 
 home. I felt as if nothing was wanting. Henry 
 had been called to the pleasantest parish in 
 New England, was a well-beloved minister, and 
 I was his wife. 
 
 After our survey, we returned to the parlour. 
 As I placed the light on a little stand, I found 
 one present had been overlooked. It was a 
 small English Bible, well bound, given by Mr. 
 Dodge. Henry smiled, when he saw from 
 whom it came I did not know why. This 
 Bible was of a convenient size and good print, 
 and Henry proposed that we should use it for 
 a family Bible. I hesitated a little, thinking 
 it almost too handsome, but we at length de 
 cided to do so. I drew up the stand to the 
 sofa, we sat down together, he read a portion 
 of the Scriptures, and we kneeled, side by side, 
 in prayer. His heart seemed to overflow with 
 gratitude to God, and with simple and earnest 
 petitions for God s blessing upon our new home 
 and our family altar. 
 
24 THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE BREAKFAST-CHAT. 
 
 PASSING over the first few months of begin 
 ning house-keeping at the parsonage, we meet 
 our friends again at the breakfast-table, on a 
 pleasant September morning. The windows of 
 the little sitting-room were open, and a strag 
 gling branch of morning-glory, full of blue star- 
 blossoms, had fallen in upon the white sill. The 
 table, so neatly laid for two, with its simple 
 white crockery, was cozy enough, and the lady 
 with rosy cheeks, who presided, looked around 
 her with much satisfaction. The breakfast 
 was all of her own cooking she had been up 
 a couple of hours, working like a bee. 
 
 " How are you going to get along without 
 help?" asked Mr. Edwards. 
 
 "Beautifully," replied his wife. "I do not 
 need any one. Is not this a nice breakfast ? 
 Taste my biscuit. Do you not think that by 
 and by I shall make them almost as well as 
 your mother?" 
 
 " I never tasted better," replied he, and was 
 
THE BREAKFAST-CHAT. 25 
 
 eilent. Mrs. Edwards felt it. Her eye in 
 stantly glanced over her table, but she could 
 detect nothing wrong there. Still Mr. Ed 
 wards was silent, and sipped his coffee. At 
 length he spoke suddenly, as if just aroused : 
 
 " Emily, I doubt whether it is best to try to 
 get along so." 
 
 " Get along how ?" she inquired anxiously. 
 
 "Why, without any help. You have to 
 work too hard ; and I know you have never 
 been used to it, and it troubles me." 
 
 "Is that all?" said Mrs. Edwards, smiling. 
 "I was afraid something was wrong in the 
 breakfast. You need not have one moment s 
 anxiety on that point. I have not been so free 
 from headaches, for years, as since we have 
 been at house-keeping and I have done the 
 work. I think it suits me. Besides, Henry, 
 I love to do it. While I am busy I fancy it 
 is all for you, and that I am saving some of 
 the salary for you, which can go towards fill 
 ing up the book-case. Don t I make a nice 
 little housekeeper?" said she, laughing and 
 lifting up her bright eyes to him, hoping to 
 dispel the cloud which still lingered there. 
 
 " The best in the world," replied he ; " but 
 to tell the truth, this salary business is begin- 
 
26 THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 ning to trouble me. I find now that I did not 
 fully understand it at the time of my settle 
 ment. The people have never yet raised over 
 five hundred dollars ; they have depended on a 
 few voluntary contributions to make out the 
 amount. Sometimes they get it, and sometimes 
 they do not; there is no dependence to be 
 placed upon it ; indeed, I doubt whether they 
 will raise it even the first year. Our house- 
 rent is ninety dollars. I am seriously afraid 
 we cannot live here." 
 
 "Don t you think we can make it out?" 
 said Mrs. Edwards. " It seems to me that 
 four hundred dollars, well managed, will do a 
 great deal. It will be two or three years 
 before I shall need any thing, and you have a 
 pretty good stock of clothing. Then here is 
 our garden, and we can live mostly on the 
 vegetables we raise. I really would prefer not 
 to have a girl ; and I don t see, Henry, what 
 we do want money for. We might lay up our 
 salary for a rainy day. 
 
 She could not make him smile. 
 
 " I have no fears for myself," said he gravely. 
 " I expect to work, and work hard, and I trust 
 I am willing to do so. I have motive enough 
 in the nature of my work to sustain me ; but I 
 
THE BREAKFAST-CHAT. 27 
 
 see plainly that all the drudgery and petty 
 cares inseparable from such a situation must 
 fall upon you." 
 
 "And have / no motive to sustain me?" 
 asked she, with tears in her eyes. " You do 
 not know how much my heart is in the work of 
 a minister s wife. You have not tried me long 
 enough yet." 
 
 "I think I do know," replied the young 
 minister with returning cheerfulness, for anxiety 
 and distrust were fast vanishing before such a 
 spirit of hope and love. 
 
 "I begin to find out one thing," said he at 
 length, for now he was becoming sociable : 
 "I begin to find out that I must have a settled 
 plan about my studies. I must look over the 
 whole field, make up my mind as to what I 
 ought to do, what I can do, what I will do. 
 It will never answer for me to depend upon the 
 impulses and necessities of the hour for intel 
 lectual effort. I must do more than simply 
 meet the wants of this people week by week. 
 I must not narrow myself down to the actual 
 demand upon me : and I feel that I am in some 
 danger of it. I see what is attainable, and 
 have many enthusiastic aspirations for it ; but 
 when it comes to going into my study day after 
 
28 THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 <lay, inclined or disinclined, convenient or in 
 convenient, and toiling nay way along, step by 
 step, so slowly, my enthusiasm vanishes, my 
 spirits flag, and if I am ready for the Sabbath, 
 I am very apt to find excuses for leaving my 
 study-table. Yes," said he, with a laugh, 
 " I am fully convinced that I should make a 
 great man if it could only be done by one 
 tremendous effort. It is daily, patient toil, 
 that disheartens me. Now, Emily, I must, 
 from the first, keep a jealous eye on this 
 tendency of mine, and you must help me." 
 " Tell me how I can help you." 
 " By feeling yourself, and by often reminding 
 me, that it is my business to be in my study 
 every forenoon ; and in order to accomplish 
 any thing there, I must have an uninterrupted 
 
 ..morning- This, I foresee, will throw all the 
 ordinary business and social calls on you : what 
 do you say to this ?" 
 
 " Oh, I shall find it pleasant, I have no 
 doubt; but is this all I can do to aid you?" 
 
 u There is one little thing in our domestic 
 arrangements that I see will be important it is 
 regularity about our meals. I ought to be ready 
 by seven o clock, the year round, to go into 
 
 .my study. But we cannot do much at this, 
 
THE BREAKFAST-CHAT. 29 
 
 with all your interruptions, until we have 
 help." 
 
 "We can try," said his wife. " I was trained 
 by the clock, and regularity is habit with me." 
 After a pause, she said in a gentler tone, "You 
 don t know, Henry, how happy it makes me to 
 feel that God is giving me something to do. 
 I hope you will tell me whenever I can do any 
 thing which will be of any use to you or your 
 people. I have no ambition for great deeds, 
 as you know, but it is a comfort to me to have 
 some duties distinctly before me. I can then 
 work on cheerfully, day by day, improving 
 every opportunity for accomplishing them 
 which God gives me." 
 
 " And this very spirit of cheerfulness and 
 hope will be invaluable to me. Many a time 
 it will raise a drooping wing, for I am some 
 what easily dispirited." 
 
 Emily gave him a look full of affection, and 
 the young minister felt that, with her at his 
 si Ie, he ought to do his work well. 
 
 "One thing more," said he, " now while I 
 think of it. I wish you would learn to be nn 
 impartial hearer of my preaching. Pass your 
 judgment on my sermons as candidly as you 
 would on those of another man. It will do me 
 
30 THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 good. If you think every thing I write 
 smart, I shall soon be of the same opinion 
 myself." 
 
 " Ah ! now you give me something to do 
 which is not easy," replied she; "you must 
 make allowances for what your wife thinks." 
 
 Mr. Edwards had now talked himself into 
 good spirits. " This salary business," said he, 
 "will do me good in one way." 
 
 "How so?" 
 
 "Why, if we are to live on nothing, we 
 shall have nothing of course to lay up for old 
 age so it will not do to have any old age." 
 
 " What do you mean ?" 
 
 " I have an idea that if the same amount 
 of time and energy which it requires to save 
 money were expended in disciplining our brains, 
 they would hold out to earn our bread as long 
 as we should want it. Now, I have no prospect 
 of having any capital to retire upon. I must, 
 probably, if God gives me health, work while I 
 live. This is an additional inducement to me 
 to form studious and industrious habits now. 
 If I allow myself easy work in the morning, 
 where shall I find the strength to toil at 
 eventide ?" 
 
 " I do not think you are in any danger of 
 
TEE BREAKFAST-CHAT. 31 
 
 being indolent," replied his wife. " My great 
 est fear is, that you will over-work and break 
 down, as so many young ministers do." 
 
 " It will not do to preach that doctrine to 
 me, Emily. I am in no such danger. Hard 
 work and steady at it, is the only thing which 
 will make me successful. Now, I foresee that 
 you will be expected to supply all my deficien 
 cies. You will have to visit, and to be visited, 
 and to attend all sorts of societies. I do not 
 feel, either, that the people have any claim 
 upon you for such an outlay of time and 
 strength; but I see, that wherever there is a 
 gap where good may be done, you will be sure 
 to enter it. How you are to meet all these 
 claims, and have so much to do at home besides, 
 I confess, troubles me. I fear it will be taxing 
 you beyond your powers." 
 
 "My dear Henry," said she, "it is but to 
 take one thing at a time, and it will all come 
 easily. If God continues to me my health, 
 I need have no fears that I cannot do all he 
 would have me do. Let us trust the future 
 with him." 
 
 The blue stars on that straggling branch of 
 morning-glory folded their silken leaves, for 
 
 3* 
 
THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 the sun was already high. When this long 
 breakfast-chat was concluded, it was too late 
 for our minister to do much in his study before 
 dinner, that day. 
 
THE MINISTER S COMPANY. 33 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE MINISTER S COMPANY. 
 
 JOURNAL. 
 
 * * * WHAT a busy time I have had 
 of it ! We have entertained at our table no 
 less than forty people this week, and every 
 meal has been prepared by my own hands. It 
 is well for me it does not happen so very often. 
 Yesterday afternoon, we had been alone for the 
 first time, about two hours, and were really 
 enjoying it, when I chanced to look out of the 
 window, and saw an old gentleman in a yellow 
 gig, with a dusty trunk strapped on behind, 
 just driving into the yard. 
 
 To tell the truth, I was not glad. I was 
 tired, and Henry and I had promised ourselves 
 so pleasant an evening together. I looked at 
 him and saw him bite his lips. He was disap 
 pointed too. The old gentleman got out, slowly 
 ascended the steps, and knocked. Mr. Edwards 
 did not seem inclined to answer the call. I 
 felt that I must make the effort. " He is old 
 and feeble," said I, hurriedly, trying to smile, 
 
34: THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 "let us take care of him." I invited him in. 
 He was a good old minister, and was on his 
 way to a distant town, to bring name a sick 
 child who was in a decline. He intended to 
 stay with us over night. He seemed vei 7 
 much fatigued, and sat down at once by tkd 
 fire. Mr. Edwards accordingly went out and 
 put up his horse. This made seven horses 
 which we had housed and fed in one week. I 
 must confess, it annoyed me. I did not like to 
 have Henry s time taken up with it: indeed I 
 did not think it exactly proper that he should 
 turn hostler so often ; but I have tried to put 
 it out of my thoughts. I brightened up the 
 fire, and gave the old gentleman a pair of 
 slippers, and made him as comfortable as 
 I could, and he looked so pleased and con 
 tented that I went cheerfully to prepare his 
 tea. He retired very early, so that, after all, 
 Henry and I had the evening quite to ourselves. 
 Perhaps the consciousness that we had made a 
 great effort to entertain the stranger added to 
 our enjoyment. 
 
 We had then a long talk about this visiting 
 among ministers. 
 
 " We cannot live at this rate, Emily," said 
 he; "that is a settled matter. You look now 
 
THE MINISTER S COMPANY. 35 
 
 completely worn out, and I have made up my 
 mind not to have it go on so any longer. We 
 must have help. You can at least have a little 
 girl, to save you steps, As for myself, I will 
 not be hostler any longer. Now for this whole 
 week I have not been able to go into my study 
 until after ten, because I have had horses to 
 harness and visitors to see off. We must either 
 give up entertaining horses, or sell Prince, for, 
 to say nothing of the trouble, we cannot afford 
 to keep both. If the people do not make up 
 the salary this year, we shall run in debt ; and 
 once in debt, I see no hope of ever getting 
 out." 
 
 "I have been thinking," said I, "that we 
 had better tell our friends plainly that we cannot 
 conveniently keep their horses. The tavern is 
 near by, and they can drive over there. I am 
 not willing to have you troubled with it ; neither 
 do I think it is exactly proper that you should 
 attend to it. But to our house and our table, 
 Henry, let us make these poor ministers wel 
 come, and share with them what we have." 
 
 After a few minutes serious thought, he 
 said gravely, "A minister s salary ought to 
 be large enough to enable him to travel when 
 he needs it, and put up at a hotel as other men 
 
86 THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 do. He ought not to be obliged to stop at a 
 brother minister s house to save himself a 
 few shillings. 
 
 " But if we cannot make their salaries 
 larger?" said I. 
 
 "Then," replied he, "we must entertain 
 them just as you have done ; and may they 
 never get worse fare." I received an expres 
 sion of approbation which quite repaid me for 
 my fatigue. 
 
 The next morning our visiter rose before we 
 had thought of stirring, and I heard him go 
 down into the parlour and build a fire. Sup- 
 poskag he was anxious to be on his way, I 
 immediately rose, kindled my kitchen-fire, and 
 set tks table. The morning was dark and 
 cold; ii was almost an hour earlier than I 
 was accustomed to rise, so that I really made 
 a good deal of effort, for me. I prepared as 
 nice a breakfast as I could for our old friend. 
 I baked hot biscuit and made an extra cup of 
 coffee for that dying child was much in my 
 mind, and it seemed as if any little attention 
 to the father was a kindness to her ; so I felt 
 quite happy as I stepped briskly about. I 
 shaved down some dried beef which my mother 
 had sent me, cut a plate of cheese, and soon 
 
THE MINISTER S COMPANY. 37 
 
 my breakfast was smoking on the table. A 
 blessing was asked and the covers lifted. The 
 old man looked first at one thing and then at 
 another, and seemed dissatisfied. At length 
 he asked, " Haven t you a bit of fresh meat in 
 the house, you could let me have?" I had ; so 
 I went and cooked it for him. At first, I had 
 a little struggle with myself to feel just right, 
 but it was soon over. Now I am glad I went, 
 for I believe he is truly a good man, and I may 
 never have an opportunity to do any thing 
 more for him. 
 
 We have had so much company that Mr. 
 Edwards has not half-finished his first sermon. 
 Ah! this is the worst of it. Now he must 
 exchange, or preach an old one ; and I do not 
 feel willing to have him do either. "What can 
 I do to save his time? I do not know but 
 I had better keep a little girl. She can bring 
 in wood and water, and that will save him some 
 odd minutes. 
 
38 THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 DEMAND AND EFFOKT. 
 JOURNAL. 
 
 Monday. I feel weary to-night, and not 
 much like writing. Mr. Edwards looks jaded 
 out. He sat up half of Saturday night, to 
 finish his sermon, and then preached three 
 times yesterday. I heard that Deacon Jones 
 began to complain because he had no more 
 meetings. 
 
 I have a little girl, Jane, who works for 
 board and clothing, and I hire a washerwoman 
 besides. She is a member of our church, and 
 a most excellent woman. I like to hear her 
 talk. The first day she came to work for me, 
 I did not know exactly what to do. I did not 
 know whether I should be expected to ask her 
 to sit down to the table with us, or not ; so I 
 stepped softly into the study, for I thought it 
 urgent business. 
 
 "Henry," said I, "shall I ask her to eat 
 with us?" 
 
 "Who?" said he, looking up. 
 
DEMAND AND EFFORT. 39 
 
 "Why, the washerwoman. I want to do just 
 the right thing; now, what shall I do?" 
 
 He burst out laughing, and told me, "I could 
 judge as well as he he knew nothing about 
 it." 
 
 He did not help me at all. I determined I 
 would keep on the safe side; so when Jane and 
 I had dinner all ready, I went to her and 
 invited her to sit down with us. 
 
 "No, I thank ye," said she pleasantly, "I 
 arn all wet and dirty, and I had rather eat 
 with Jane in the kitchen." I respected Lor 
 for her good sense. 
 
 Jane is a nice little girl, and I find shr> can 
 sate me a great many steps. To-day I tried 
 to wash the paint in the parlour, and vdle I 
 was about it, I had four calls. I wipod the 
 suds from my hands, and sat down. Tne calls 
 were mostly on business. I was informed of 
 my appointment to the office of First Directress 
 in the Sewing Circle, and also of the female 
 prayer-meetings which are to commence on the 
 first Wednesday of next month. Henry wan 
 ders about the house to-day, as if he felt indis 
 posed even to read a newspaper. 
 
 Tuesday. Some one came this morning for 
 Mr. Eiwards. Widow Green had a stroke of 
 
40 THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 the palsy in the night. She is quite old, and 
 has been feeble a long time ; but as it is pro 
 bable she will linger in this state for some 
 weeks, I thought I would not disturb him. It 
 seemed to me very necessary that he should 
 have his mornings, this week ; so I decided to 
 go myself. Now, she lives a mile and a quartei 
 from us. This is something of a walk for 
 me ; however, I took it, for I would not call 
 Henry down to harness the horse. I wish Jane 
 and I could learn to harness Prince; it would 
 be very convenient in an emergency. 
 
 I found Widow Green s daughter much dis 
 tressed. She met me at the door, seized my 
 hand, and burst into tears. I was quite un 
 prepared for this, the old lady was so far 
 advanced in years ; but I should have remem 
 bered that we never see the time when we feel 
 as if we could part with a mother. I tried to 
 comfort her, but, to tell the truth, I did not 
 know what to say. I found myself wholly 
 unequal to it. I could only sympathize with 
 her. 
 
 She soon led me up-stairs into a pleasant 
 little chamber, which looked towards the set 
 ting sun. There in bed, bolstered up, lay the 
 old lady. One arm had fallen powerless at her 
 
DEMAND AND EFFORT. 41 
 
 side, and one corner of her mouth was drawn 
 down slightly not enough, however, to injure 
 the expression, for she looked calm and happy. 
 She raised her other hand, and tried to bid me 
 welcome, but her tongue refused to obey, and, 
 after one or two indistinct sounds, she gave it 
 up, but her eye wandered to the Bible on the 
 shelf, and I understood that she wished to hear 
 me read. I did so, and then spoke a few 
 words of comfort and sympathy to her and her 
 weeping daughter ; promised them Mr. Edwards 
 should call in the afternoon, and took my leave. 
 How humbled I felt, as I walked back; how 
 utterly unfit I am to stand by the bedside of 
 the dying! 
 
 It was quite late when I reached home. I 
 found dinner all ready, and Henry waiting 
 impatiently for me, and claiming the credit of 
 the cookery. 
 
 I think a great deal about the prayer-meet 
 ing. I cannot keep it out of my mind. It is 
 my duty to go, I know, and I cannot excuse 
 myself, without throwing a "stumbling block" 
 in the way of others. I believe these little 
 praying circles are often blessed, and that my 
 influence must go towards their support. But 
 what shall I do? I have never in my life 
 
42 THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 prayed in the hearing of another; and to go 
 for the first time before so many, most of them 
 much older than myself, and so much more 
 advanced in their Christian course I am dis 
 tressed when I think of it. I sometimes say, 
 "I cannot do it." May I not plead that I am 
 " slow of speech ?" Will God accept this plea ? 
 Ah ! I fear not. If he gives me, then, this 
 cross to bear, shall I seek to escape from it ? 
 No I must take it. I must go. I must do 
 the best I can. Perhaps he will " strengthen 
 me in the hour of need." Do I not know that 
 4 he will not try me above what I am able to 
 bear?" 
 
 Wednesday. This is an important day to 
 me, and I wish to record its mercies. Through 
 the morning I felt sad ; I could not forget the 
 trial before me. Once or twice I retired to 
 pray for Divine assistance. When the ap 
 pointed hour arrived, I became much agitated. 
 I believe I had dreaded it so much that my 
 nervous system was affected. With trembling 
 hands I tied on my bonnet and went softly out. 
 I did not wish even to have Henry speak to me. 
 I walked rapidly to Deacon Emery s. I was 
 early ; there were only two ladies there. This 
 relieved me a little, for we chatted on indif- 
 
DEMAND AND EFFORT. 43 
 
 ferent matters until more assembled. Mrs. 
 Emery then read a selected portion of the 
 Scriptures and called upon an old lady to lead 
 in prayer. She offered an excellent prayer. 
 I was quieted by it ; it almost seemed as if God 
 had directed her what to say for my comfort. 
 After this they sang, and I tried to join them, 
 but found I could not, my voice trembled so 
 much. At the close of the singing, Mrs. 
 Emery said they would like to join with me 
 in prayer. My heart beat violently I could 
 scarcely breathe; but I did not hesitate. I 
 had made up my mind before I came what it 
 was my duty to do. I kneeled ; I attempted to 
 speak my lips quivered, but I could not utter 
 a sound. There was a deathlike stillness for a 
 few seconds ; then I burst into a flood of tears 
 and wept violently. I heard others weeping 
 around me. No one rose. Once more I sum 
 moned all my resolution, and this time my 
 voice obeyed me ; and God gave me thoughts 
 and feelings and language. It seemed to me 
 I felt his presence and blessing as I had never 
 done before ; and when I concluded the effort, 
 I felt that this struggle was all over. A sweet 
 peace fell upon my heart. How can I be grate 
 ful enough to my heavenly Father that he did 
 
44 THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 not leave me to follow my own sinful inclina 
 tions in regard to this matter! Now I can 
 tell Henry about it. How different are my 
 feelings to-night from those of last night ! 
 
 Thursday. I have had a very happy day ; 
 I hardly know why, either, for nothing unusual 
 has happened. Mr. Edwards went punctually 
 to his study at seven, and this always starts 
 the day right. Mother and Martha drove over 
 this morning, to go with me to the society. I 
 mean to make a business of being punctual, and 
 I was there at the appointed minute. This is 
 one of the little virtues, the cultivation of 
 which I shall be glad to help along by my 
 example. Henry will not let me be directress : 
 he thinks that some lady who has less demand 
 upon her time should take it. He is right, I 
 suppose, as he generally is, for it would require 
 much time to fit all the work more than I, 
 situated as I am, can command ; and I would 
 much rather not hold the office at all, than to 
 hold it nominally. The ladies were disap 
 pointed, and some, I fancied, dissatisfied by 
 my refusal, but I cannot help it : I must be 
 guided by my own conscience. I mean to go 
 right on and do what seems to me right, and 
 bear the consequences. I hope by and by I 
 
DEMAND AND EFFORT. 45 
 
 shall be able so to secure their confidence, that 
 they will be willing to trust me to form my own 
 judgment as to what is right and proper for 
 me to do. For one thing, now, I mean to 
 attend the society meetings always, if I can. 
 I think, for their social results, it is highly im 
 portant they should be sustained. Mr. Ed 
 wards thought it would be a good plan to have 
 reading during a part of the afternoon. The 
 ladies accede to it, because the pastor proposes 
 it, I imagine ; but I fear that this plan will not 
 succeed. There is so much work going on, 
 and so many things wanted, that a reader 
 must be constantly interrupted. Yet I should 
 like to try it; it would give a little more cha 
 racter to our meetings. I suppose I shall be 
 expected to furnish books, and I am sure I 
 shall be puzzled what to select. Light reading 
 it will not do for me to carry, and serious read 
 ing will not interest them, and I have not a 
 very extensive library to select from. How 
 ever, I will do my best, and if I bear it in 
 mind, little interesting items may fall in my 
 way. I can glean something by the wayside. 
 I found, the other day, a very interesting 
 account of Franklin s early life, in an old 
 newspaper which mother sent me around a 
 
46 THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 ham. I cut it out and put it away carefully in 
 my society box. 
 
 Friday. No studying going on to-day. 
 Henry had to go out, right after breakfast, 
 about five miles, to see a dying man ; and this 
 afternoon he was called three miles in another 
 direction, to marry a couple. It seems as if 
 he could not spare a day, so near the close of 
 the week. We heard yesterday that Deacon 
 Jones was dissatisfied because he visited so 
 little, and made some sharp remarks about it. 
 I hope Deacon Jones is a good man : I believe 
 he is, but it would make a great change in him 
 if he could be a country minister one year. 
 When he returned to his deaconship, I am 
 quite sure he would be more considerate. It 
 seems to me that Mr. Edwards is labouring 
 hard and faithfully. He has the best good of 
 his people near at heart, and does not spare 
 himself. I wish they understood how much 
 it would be for their interest not to disturb 
 him in the morning. Such a day as this 
 troubles me. Sermon- writing now must come 
 late into Saturday night, and then for haggard 
 looks and low spirits, Monday. 
 
 Saturday. About ten this morning, Kev. 
 Mr. Jones, with his wife and child, came to 
 
DEMAND AND EFFORT. 47 
 
 spend the Sabbath with us. I was embarrassed 
 when I met him, but soon I told Jiim frankly 
 that if he would excuse it, I would not call 
 Mr. Edwards down, as he had had a broken 
 week, and was not quite ready for the Sabbath. 
 I must confess I was relieved when Mr. Jones 
 told me that he was obliged to give up preach 
 ing himself for a while, on account of throat 
 troubles. Not that I was glad he was ill, of 
 course, but I was glad Henry would not have 
 to invite him into the pulpit. He has had 
 more help of late than Deacon Jones and 
 Miss Cribby like. I do not know, but I am 
 too sensitive about what the people say, but I 
 do want them to love him ; for if they do not, 
 he can do them no good. Miss Cribby is a 
 most excellent woman, but she is peculiar. I 
 hope that some time we shall understand each 
 other better; and yet I find I can get along 
 more easily with her than I did at first. I am 
 sometimes a little surprised to see how much I 
 am interested in this people how ready I am 
 to excuse their faults and admire their virtues. 
 They seem like a part of our family 
 
48 THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 PERPLEXITIES AND PURPOSES. 
 
 SOME years from the last date, we meet our 
 friends again in those quiet woods which over 
 shadow a part of the road between Lynnfield 
 and Weston. They were now riding in a 
 buggy-wagon, which Prince seemed to carry 
 with as much ease as he had carried the chaise 
 for his additional load was but a slight one. 
 Master Harry, though stout, was but a two- 
 year-old, and baby Emma s weight was too 
 trifling tq be noticed. Mr. and Mrs. Edwards 
 looked somewhat older and graver than when 
 we last saw them here, on their wedding tour. 
 
 "I wish," said Mr. Edwards, "that I could 
 go to Boston, this fall, to the meeting of the 
 Missionary Board." 
 
 " Why don t you?" replied his wife. " I had 
 thought of the plan, myself. I really want 
 you to go ; it would do you good. You have 
 scarcely been away now for three years. You 
 need the change, and would enjoy those meet 
 ings very much." 
 
PERPLEXITIES AND PURPOSES. 49 
 
 " I know that, love ; but where am I to get 
 the money to go with ?" 
 
 " Why, Prince will carry you. and you would 
 put up with my uncle. You would scarcely 
 need any money." 
 
 " I have not a dollar I could spare to pay 
 for having my horse kept, after I got there. 
 I declare!" said he, cracking his whip, "this 
 is what I call being poor." 
 
 Mrs. Edwards smiled, but looked in vain for 
 an answering smile. 
 
 "\Ve could get along beautifully," said she, 
 " if they would only pay us what is really due ; 
 don t you think so, Henry?" 
 
 " It would be small enough at best," replied 
 he ; " but the people are so backward in their 
 payments, it is impossible to get along at all. 
 Quarter-day comes no salary ready I must 
 take an order on the stores, or nothing. We 
 must buy even the salt for our porridge at a 
 disadvantage, and I must be always in debt. 
 I really feel ashamed to face some of my own 
 people who have claims on me. They are 
 honest debts, and ought to be paid ; but, time 
 after time, I must put them oif with the same 
 old story. To tell the truth, I have not a 
 dollar of my own in the world. I have a bank- 
 
50 THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 note which I borrowed of Deacon Emery just 
 to keep in my pocket-book for an emergency. 
 Things have been in this state now for several 
 months. There is always an excuse for not 
 paying me. I have not bought a book since 
 the first year I was settled. How in the 
 world, Emily, you struggle along and keep so 
 cheerful, with all your care and sickness, I 
 cannot imagine. If it had not been for you, I 
 should have given up long ago, in despair." 
 
 "Why, Henry," replied she, " indeed it is 
 really wonderful to see how God has provided 
 for us. Through all our sickness, we had one 
 of the very best physicians, and he, you know, 
 never would take a cent of pay, either for 
 attendance or medicine. Then our children 
 are healthy, and Jane has proved a real 
 treasure ; she does almost as much work as a 
 woman. Mother and the girls have quite 
 clothed her, so that she has cost us almost 
 nothing, and I have been able to teach her, 
 evenings. Really, Henry, I have almost every 
 thing I want. For myself, I do not mind the 
 salary troubles ; it is only on your account I 
 feel them." 
 
 "It is not right," said he, bursting out like 
 a torrent long pent up, " it is morally wrong 
 
PERPLEXITIES AND PURPOSES. 51 
 
 for the people to be so remiss in this matter. 
 I would rather, to-day, receive one-half the 
 amount in ready money, which they give me 
 now in orders ; it would be worth more to me. 
 Here we are ; we must buy at just such a store, 
 at any price they please to set, and often take 
 a thing which is not what we want, because 
 we can get no other. Then I do not, even in 
 this way, receive all which they agreed to give 
 me. There is scarcely a family in Weston who 
 live on such small means as we have, and yet 
 we entertain more company than all of them 
 put together. Now I suffer from this. I go 
 into my study disheartened. Often when I 
 take up my pen to write, I think of you down 
 stairs, toiling so patiently and cheerfully from 
 morning to night, with your children in your 
 arms, and I feel that it is my business to re 
 lieve you myself, if I cannot afford you relief 
 in any other way. Then when company comes, 
 I sometimes look out and see them driving in, 
 and feel that we have scarcely the bread to 
 give them, and you certainly have neither time 
 nor strength to spend on their entertainment. 
 I confess it unmans me. I often lay down my 
 pen and weep. Any thing is better than such 
 a life as this, and I will live so no longer on 
 
 5 
 
52 THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 that I am determined. My usefulness is des 
 troyed. I can do more good, digging by the 
 highway. I have made up my mind to ask for 
 a dismission this week." 
 
 Mrs. Edwards looked up in amazement. She 
 had received no intimation before of any ap 
 proach to such a crisis. She hardly knew 
 what to say. 
 
 " What could you do," she asked at length, 
 quietly, " if you were dismissed ?" 
 
 "First, I would sell off every thing and 
 raise a little ready money, and then I would 
 take you and the babies home to my mother s 
 farm. I can earn your living there, and have 
 time to look about me a little for other employ 
 ment. Live we must, and if I cannot do it by 
 preaching, I must try teaching. Thank God, 
 Every labourer is worthy of his hire. ? 
 
 They rode on some time in silence ; at length 
 Mrs. Edwards asked in a gentle tone : 
 
 " Had we better make so important a move 
 hastily?" 
 
 " It would not be a hasty move," was his reply. 
 " I have thought it all over many and many a 
 time, and looked it through, from beginning to 
 end, and my duty now seems to me clear, and 
 my path plain. My resolution is formed. I 
 
PERPLEXITIES AND PURPOSES. 53 
 
 am not, on the whole, sorry that I settled here, 
 for I have learned many things by experience, 
 which will be of great use to me hereafter ; but 
 it seems to me that my work here is done. 
 As our family expenses increase, our perplexi 
 ties increase; and I have to spend so much 
 energy in providing the needful to eat and 
 drink and wear, that I have little left for pro 
 fessional duties. My enthusiasm has vanished, 
 my spirits flag, my sermons drag, and what I 
 write with little interest the people hear with 
 as little. It would be wrong for me to continue 
 this course any longer." 
 
 . Prince now of his own accord stopped at the 
 door of his old home. Grandmother took the 
 baby, and aunty the laughing Harry. Mrs. 
 Edwards looked pleased, but a close observer 
 could have detected now and then a sigh. She 
 was*thinking of the future. The next morning 
 our friends returned to Weston. 
 
54 THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE COMPROMISE. 
 
 WESTON was taken entirely by surprise when 
 their pastor asked a dismission ; and there was 
 a great excitement about it. They could not 
 understand what the difficulty was ; for they 
 were quite sure they were satisfied with him. 
 It did not seem to occur to them, that he 
 could be dissatisfied with them ! A few ven 
 tured to come to head-quarters for some 
 light on this dark subject. They were 
 frankly told that Mr. Edwards had said all 
 to his people on the subject of their pecu 
 niary remissness which he deemed it proper to 
 say, and that he could not consent to remain 
 where he must perpetually dun his people for 
 his salary. 
 
 Those whose counsel was sought investigated 
 the matter thoroughly. The result was, that 
 they censured the people in very plain terms, 
 and were decidedly against a dismission of the 
 minister. With this the people were not of- 
 
THE COMPROMISE. 55 
 
 fended, for they were really much attached to 
 both their minister and his wife, and by no 
 means willing to part with them. They saw 
 also, that, having been so long without any 
 settled pastor, they had really fallen into loose 
 ways of doing business. No one had brought 
 them up to the mark. Now they came forward, 
 and, of their own accord, entered into a written 
 agreement, that the salary five hundred dollars 
 a year, in ready money should be in the hands 
 of the treasurer, on such a day, subject to Mr. 
 Edwards s order. In addition to this, they 
 would agree to raise another hundred, by 
 voluntary contributions, if they could ; and in 
 case they could not, they would yearly give a 
 donation party. This affair brought out warm 
 expressions of attachment, even from Miss 
 Cribby and Deacon Jones ; but, notwithstand 
 ing this, it cost Mr. Edwards a struggle to 
 consent to remain. He was convinced, that 
 nine times out of ten, when a minister has 
 asked a dismission, it is best that he should 
 go ; and he also felt that even now, his salary 
 would be too small to meet his necessary ex 
 penses,. He did not, however, see his way 
 quite clear to renew his application. 
 ; "Well, Emily," said he that evening, "I do 
 
 5* 
 
56 THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 not see but that we mtct stay, for the present 
 at least. One good will come from the move 
 we shall know what to depend upon, though, 
 at the best, we shall have a hard time of it." 
 
 "Perhaps we can meet it as well as any 
 one," replied she. " Some one must live here. 
 There are souls in Weston as precious as 
 elsewhere." 
 
 "I know that," replied he, a and if I had 
 only myself to care for, I would cheerfully 
 labour here till I die. But I must provide for 
 my family. How are we to educate our children? 
 Why, our shoemaker, over the way, earns more 
 than I do." 
 
 " I never allow myself an uneasy thought 
 about the children," replied she. "If God 
 spares them to us, and they wish for an educa 
 tion, some way will be provided, I have no 
 doubt. Would it be right to leave what, all 
 things considered, seems a post of duty, to 
 provide for an uncertain future? Would it 
 not seem like a distrust of God s care of us ?" 
 
 "You preach like a minister," said Mr. 
 Edwards, with a smile. 
 
 "Oh, Henry," replied she, as the colour 
 deepened a little in her cheeks, " indeed I did 
 
THE COMPROMISE. 
 
 57 
 
 not mean to preach. I was only saying to you 
 just what came into my heart. 
 
 " Well, love, here we will stay, unless some 
 new door should be opened, so long as the peo 
 ple will keep to their agreement. We will 
 cheerfully trust our children, ourselves, and the 
 future, in God s hands." 
 
THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 VISIT TO BOSTON. 
 
 THE new order of things made a most re 
 markable change in the minister s family. 
 With an unlocked for consideration, Mr. 
 Dodge himself called with the money, on the 
 morning of the day on which the salary was 
 due. Now they could pay as they went along, 
 and they contracted no more debts. There 
 was no more borrowing money to fill an empty 
 pocket-book. Sometimes they had an oppor 
 tunity to send to Boston, and they always 
 improved it, for they could purchase at an 
 advantage there, procuring a nicer article for 
 the same price. At the close of the year, it 
 seemed as if one dollar had gone as far as three 
 had formerly done, when taken in " orders." 
 
 The donation-party as it was called was 
 also some help, though it was far from being 
 as good for them as the hundred dollars would 
 have been in money. They received many 
 things which they would not have bought. 
 Then, it was not exactly pleasant to take as 
 
VISIT TO BOSTON. 59 
 
 a gift what was in fact their due. However, 
 the more intelligent part of the people regarded 
 the thing in the right light, i. e. as a favour, 
 to be allowed to pay a part of the salary in 
 this manner ; and felt that they were the party 
 under obligation. Those who did not regard 
 it thus, Mrs. Edwards found it quite easy to 
 get along with. Indeed, she seemed to get along 
 with every body, even with Miss Cribby. 
 
 The new order of things was felt by the 
 society also. Their minister came to them 
 no longer with a troubled countenance, neither 
 did he write for them despondingly. His peo 
 ple said he had never preached better; and 
 this was true. 
 
 The two ends of the year now met so well, 
 that on the ensuing spring Mr. Edwards again 
 entertained the idea of going to Boston. He 
 had not taken a journey with his wife since 
 their marriage, and he felt that the change 
 and relief from care would be of great service 
 to her. She, however, objected to going, 
 assigning various reasons, and concealing the 
 main one which w^as in her mind, the ad 
 ditional expense of taking her. Mr. Edwards 
 overruled all these objections, pressed his point, 
 and she consented to accompany him. 
 
60 THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 Then followed the " getting ready ," a small 
 affair for him, but a great one for her. Sho 
 had not purchased a nice dress for herself since 
 her marriage. Now the relatives with whom 
 she was to stay in Boston were fashionable 
 people, and she found she had a little feeling 
 about appearing there in such an antiquated 
 dress. The old remark, about " coming out of 
 Noah s ark," would find its way into her mind. 
 
 After a few struggles with herself, she had 
 about made up her mind to go with the best 
 she had, and to feel satisfied with it, when she 
 received very unexpectedly, from the ladies of 
 the parish, a new black silk dress. They, also, 
 had some feeling about their minister s wife, 
 and wished her to appear as well as others. 
 With the dress was a little note, enclosing two 
 dollars, with which they asked her to buy a 
 new ribbon for her, straw bonnet. This was a 
 well-timed present, and Mrs. Edwards was 
 touched by the kind interest which the ladies 
 manifested. She was also comforted by it, for 
 she had been a little afraid that her sensitive 
 ness about her dress was not altogether right. 
 
 Her mother and Martha came over from 
 Lynnfield on so important an occasion as the 
 making of a silk dress, and it was soon done 
 
VISIT TO BOSTON". 
 
 61 
 
 tip in good style. The old Dunstable-straw 
 was sewed over yet once more ; it was newly 
 bleached to the last degree of faintness, and 
 trimmed with a fresh, modest, green ribbon. 
 Mrs. Jones brought in, one evening, a little 
 parcel, which she kept tucked under her apron 
 till just as she was going away then she slipped 
 it under the table-cover. Martha laughingly 
 opened it, and found a nice new green veil. 
 So our traveller seemed to be all equipped. 
 The children returned with grandmother to 
 Lynnfieid, and every thing being ready, the 
 day was fixed for their start. At an early 
 hour, Prince, in shining harness, stood waiting 
 ;it the door, and quite a party of interested 
 friends called to see them off. It was a cheer 
 ful and pleasant group on the steps of the 
 parsonage; and in the midst, quietly and 
 sweetly, stood the minister s wife. Was she 
 not the fac-simile of that image she long 
 ago had in mind ? Was she not "very good" 
 and "very thankful," and dressed even in the 
 straw bonnet, with "green ribbons?" 
 
 Indeed, her new attire was so becoming, and 
 she appeared so pretty, that her husband 
 looked at her with beaming eyes, which well 
 expressed his pleasure at her improved ap- 
 
62 THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 pearance. The ladies smiled at one another 
 and felt repaid for all they had done. 
 
 No one, who has not once in a life-time taken 
 such a patiently-earned journey, can fully un 
 derstand how much Mr. and Mrs. Edwards 
 enjoyed. They seemed almost to have entered 
 a new world. Every thing interested them; 
 the light and shade, the waving trees, the 
 ever-changing landscape, rocks and birds and 
 flowers, farms and fruit-orchards, alike attracted 
 their attention. They talked incessantly ; time 
 flew, and before they were ready for it, Prince 
 had brought them within sight of the dome 
 of the State House at Boston. Soon they were 
 making their way through the narrow streets^ 
 and thep, were at Mr. Hargrave s door. So 
 quickly had they come, it seemed almost like 
 a dream, yet how easily it had all been accom 
 plished ! 
 
 With some trepidation, Mrs. Edwards fol 
 lowed her husband up those large granite 
 steps, which, as well as the house itself, seemed 
 very imposing. Their ring was immediately 
 answered, and they were ushered into a hand 
 some drawing-room. Mr. and Mrs. Hargrave 
 met their niece so cordially that it re-assured 
 her, and, quite at her ease again, in her simple, 
 
VISIT TO BOSTON. 63 
 
 natural way, she introduced Mr. Edwards to 
 them. 
 
 Their hospitable relatives did every thing 
 in their power to make them feel at home. 
 Their house was filled with guests, and Mrs. 
 Edwards soon found that her very retired life 
 had in some respects been a disadvantage to 
 her. She was embarrassed in general society. 
 She had been out of it so long, that she had 
 almost forgotten how to act. Among their 
 own people, where she was so much looked up 
 to, she was quite at her ease, and could talk ; 
 but to be among strangers, in a mixed party, 
 placed her in such new relations as to embar 
 rass her. It must be said, however, that these 
 new circumstances, though they made her silent, 
 yet did not make her awkward, for ,she was 
 truly modest, and assumed nothing on the 
 ground of being a minister s wife. When she 
 did converse, there was something in her 
 manner which was winning and gentle, and 
 which made friends. As to those customs of 
 fashionable life to which she had been so long 
 unused, she met them in a quiet, observant 
 way, which shielded her alike from blunder or 
 notice. 
 
 That she was too silent, is, however, only 
 
64 
 
 THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 partially true. When religious topics were 
 introduced, she expressed thoughts and opinions, 
 and showed more of general information and 
 cultivation than one would have been led to 
 expect. True, since her marriage, she had 
 found but little time to read, but she had made 
 the most of what she had read. She never 
 forgot any thing worth remembering, and 
 seemed to deposit what she learned in its 
 right place, and appropriate it to its proper 
 subject. The truth was, when she read, it 
 was for the people as well as herself. She 
 made a point of studying her Bible daily and 
 who can do this without intellectual, as well as 
 spiritual improvement? Her practice of jour 
 nalizing and writing occasionally had contri 
 buted also to give her command of language. 
 
 Mr. Edwards was at home at once, among 
 the ministers. He was interested and excited 
 through the whole week. It was enough to do 
 one s heart good to see how much our friends 
 enjoyed. They attended the meetings they 
 shopped together they stepped into book 
 stores. Here, after turning it all over in 
 their minds, they purchased a few, a very few 
 books. How rich they felt with their treasure, 
 all tied in a paper parcel, which Mr. Edwards 
 
VISIT TO BOSTON. 65 
 
 easily carried under his arm ! After a little 
 more good planning, Mr. Edwards decided to 
 subscribe for a Theological Review. He felt 
 the necessity of keeping abreast with the lite 
 rary and religious world, as he had not done 
 before since his settlement. 
 
 The week in Boston seemed to fly. The 
 religious meetings came to a close, and Mr. 
 and Mrs. Edwards, refreshed in body and 
 mind, rich with news and their few purchases 
 all important to them turned their faces 
 homeward. Not a cloud came over the sky 
 the air was mild and balmy nature seemed to 
 sympathize with their quiet joys. Prince was 
 in fine order; indeed, like his master, he seemed 
 to have grown young again. He was not long 
 in leaving the old State House far behind him ; 
 and, in time for an early tea, he stopped at 
 the door of the parsonage in Weston. 
 
66 THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 PRESENTS. 
 
 FROM THE JOURNAL. 
 
 JVbw. This morning Mr. Dodge stopped 
 here. He did not get out of the sleigh, but 
 rapped on the fence with his whip-handle. I 
 sent Jane out to him. 
 
 "Tell your folks," said he, "if they will 
 send a basket up to my house, I will give them 
 some sweet-potatoes." 
 
 I was quite pleased, for it is a long time 
 since I had seen a sweet-potato. I sent Jane, 
 but took good care to select the smallest basket 
 I had, which was at all suitable. Mr. Edwards 
 laughed out when I gave it to her. 
 
 "I don t wish him to rob himself," said I, 
 half apologetically. I received no reply. Mr. 
 Edwards returned to his newspaper, though I 
 could oaaily see a curious smile lurking still 
 arouid the corners of his mouth. Jane was 
 gone only a few minutes, as Mr. Dodge lives 
 i|uite near us. When I saw her returning, I 
 
PRESENTS. 67 
 
 went out to meet her in the entry. I thought 
 perhaps it would be as well to take the potatoes 
 quietly into the kitchen, and let Mr. Edwards 
 finish his paper ; but he called out to her, to 
 "bring them in." The basket was but half- 
 filled, and most of those were specked ! 
 
 Mr. Edwards looked a little angry. I laughed. 
 "You see," said I, "I was right in the selec 
 tion of my basket ; but here is enough to give 
 us a little taste. You may take them out, Jane." 
 
 Mr. Edwards was a little angry. He is very 
 sensitive about receiving presents. I do not 
 think our donation-parties are altogether agreea 
 ble to him. He does not like to be put under 
 obligation for what is justly his due. I wish 
 the people would feel as if they could dispense 
 with them, and raise the money: it would be 
 so much better for us. If Mr. Dodge would 
 only do his duty, they could raise it easily 
 but money comes hard from him. I do not 
 mean to complain of our people, for I think 
 they have been exceedingly generous and 
 attentive to us. They do the best they can, 
 and for the most part cheerfully, I think. I 
 do not remember having my feelings pained 
 but once. Before Harry s birth, I had many 
 little things sent in to me. I was calling on a 
 
68 THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 lady, one day, and I spoke of the presents 
 which I had received, of their value to me, and 
 of my appreciation of the kindness which 
 prompted it. She replied, suddenly, and to 
 me it seemed sharply, "Well, / didn t send 
 you nothing, Miss Edwards. I think, charity 
 begins at home and it is my duty to see first 
 that my own children have clothes." I was so 
 taken by surprise, I di-d not know what to say. 
 My feelings were hurt. It was with difficulty 
 I could restrain my tears. If I had known 
 that she had sent nothing, of course I should 
 not have spoken ; but I had attributed some 
 anonymous presents to her, and wished to 
 notice them in this way. However, she is a 
 good woman, and I don t suppose she meant 
 to hurt my feelings. 
 
 April. How long it is since I have written 
 in my journal ! We have had a very trying 
 winter. God has seen fit to send sickness 
 among us. In January, our dear little Kate 
 was born. We had been at so much expense, 
 previously, that I dismissed my nurse earlier 
 than I am used to doing, and I think I over 
 exerted myself before I got my strength up, 
 for my work had run behind-hand, and thero 
 was a great deal to be done. I must. have 
 
PRESENTS. 69 
 
 taken some cold, also, for I had a severe ill 
 ness, and was confined to my room two months. 
 I am now but just able to sit up and do a little 
 light work in my chamber. Henry, dear boy, 
 is a great comfort to me. He is a mother-boy. 
 I hardly know how I could get along without 
 him. He is but little more than six years old, 
 but he does the work of a boy of ten. He 
 brings in all my wood, and builds the fires, 
 and looks after the little ones. Dear little 
 fellow ! I have had to keep him out of school, 
 now, for a month : I regret it very much, but 
 it cannot be helped. He leads Emma and 
 George every morning, and goes for them at 
 night, and he tends the baby. I think little 
 Kate begins to know him already. He tends 
 her almost as well as I do. It is curious to see 
 him sitting in his little rocking-chair, singing 
 to her. How much w r e have to be grateful for ! 
 True, we are poor, as this world goes, but we 
 are rich in our children. God has given us a 
 world of comfort and hope now in Henry. 
 Then there is Emma, her father s child, noisy, 
 and talkative, and lively, doing all she can to 
 keep us in good cheer. George seems to be 
 more quiet and gentle. In the midst of my 
 *ickness, they all had the measles. Mr. Ed- 
 
70 THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 wards took them into the study, and took care 
 of them himself. 
 
 May. It is so delightful this morning, I 
 think I shall venture to ride out with little 
 Kate. Prince is so gentle, it will be no trouble 
 to drive him. I will not let Mr. Edwards go 
 with me, as he has been much disturbed of late. 
 His habits of study have been broken up, and 
 I see he finds it difficult to resume them. A 
 great deal of miscellaneous business has accu 
 mulated on his hands. His people have been 
 considerate, and certainly very kind. Mrs. 
 Jones, in particular, insisted upon sitting up 
 night after night. I used to think then, that 
 I could overlook all the deacon s faults for her 
 sake ; but how little we know of our own hearts ! 
 Now it was only last week that I lost my 
 patience wholly with him. He came in one 
 evening, after we were beginning to look up a 
 little, and gave Mr. Edwards a regular scolding. 
 He told him " his church was in a cold state, 
 they were almost dead, and something must be 
 done to get up a revival, or they should all go 
 down." He is unfortunate in his manner of 
 expressing himself. Even when he does not 
 mean to be unamiable, he appears quarrelsome 
 and threatening. 
 
Miss Cribby keeps Mrs. Edwards informed of all which 
 goes wrong in the parish, p. 73. 
 
PRESENTS. 
 
 73 
 
 After these private interviews, Mr. Edwards 
 is often silent : last week he was quite de 
 pressed ; he began to think there must be some 
 general dissatisfaction in the congregation, and 
 that Deacon Jones s call was not entirely on 
 his own account. But I think if this was the 
 case, I should certainly hear of it from Miss 
 Oibby, for she keeps me duly informed of all 
 which goes wrong; so I have made up my 
 mind not to be troubled about it. When God 
 disables us by sickness, it is wrong to fret 
 because we cannot be " up and doing." I will 
 go out to enjoy this beautiful day. It will do 
 little Kate good. 
 
 June. This afternoon, Deacon Emery called. 
 His benevolent, pleasant, good face, is a real 
 cordial. I feel, when I am by him, that I am 
 near a friend ; and a true friend he has indeed 
 been to us. I love him with my whole heart. 
 He made us a pleasant call. I saw he had a 
 bundle under each arm, which, as he rose to 
 go, he put down on the table. "I noticed, 
 sir," said he to Mr. Edwards, "that you had 
 no standard works of history in your library, 
 and as your children are getting to be readers 
 now, you may find these useful." He had 
 brought a complete set of Hume and Smollett. 
 
74 THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 Mr. Edwards was very much pleised, and so 
 was I. We fancied, and rightly I imagine, 
 that he had, in some way, heard of Deacon 
 Jones s fault-finding call, and wished to do 
 away any wrong impressions which he might 
 have made, for he spoke with unusual cheerful 
 ness and warmth about the prosperity of the 
 church, and took special pains to specify indi 
 vidual cases where attention had been awakened 
 by some particular sermons. The tears came 
 into my eyes, and I could not refrain from 
 thanking him by a warm pressure of the 
 hand. 
 
 Just before Deacon Emery came in, Mr. Ed 
 wards had been talking about leaving Weston. 
 Said he : "I have now been here ten years, 
 and I do not know but I have done my work 
 for this people. A new order of things, per 
 haps, would give them a new start." 
 
 I think it has been a cherished opinion of 
 his, that ten years is about as long as a man 
 ought to stay in one place. 
 
 "Would you seek for a Iarg3r place?" I 
 inquired. I was sorry I had asked the ques 
 tion. He did not immediately reply. He 
 walked the room silently, and when he did 
 speak, it was in a sorrowful tone. 
 
PRESENTS. 75 
 
 " I do not know that I could fill a more im 
 portant place, Ernily. I know that I have not 
 advanced, as ten years ago I meant to do. I 
 have fallen below my mark. Too much energy 
 and time have been spent simply in contriving 
 how to live year by year. I have not been 
 able to buy books, or to travel about and find 
 out what other men are doing, and I have had 
 very little to excite my ambition for study. 
 Then my people have required a great deal of 
 pastoral duty, and they would have it even if it 
 interfered with the preaching ; so here I am. 
 I am yet in the prim of life ; but my habits 
 of study and thought are now formed, and have 
 been formed under such circumstances as these, 
 and I have no reason to think I shall ever do, 
 or be, much more than I am now. No, when 
 we leave Weston, if I am wise, I shall >eek 
 only another retired field of labour." 
 
 It pp,ined me very much to hear him spetik 
 in this manner. I knew that he was unjust to 
 himself; for he had been a faithful, hard-working 
 pastor. 
 
 "Perhaps," said I, "in the course which you 
 marked out for yourself, there may have been 
 ftn unsanctified ambition which God would not 
 accept ; and though you may not have a,ccon> 
 
76 THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 plished your own plans, you may have don 
 more for Him in the way he has led you." 
 
 "And there it must rest/ said he. "Cer 
 tainly, the way has never yet been opened for 
 me to leave Weston, though the small salary 
 here has been a great disadvantage to me every 
 way. Why, you see how much of my time it 
 takes to teach my boys. I cannot afford to 
 send them away to school ; and if they are ever 
 fitted for college, I must fit them. We must 
 give them an education ; it is all we can do for 
 them." Here, as I have already written, Dea 
 con Emery called. After he had left the par 
 lour, Mr. Edwards asked him into the study, 
 and had a long talk with him. 
 
 August. The question has once more been 
 agitated, whether to go or stay. Mr. Edwards 
 finds now that he has taken such deep root in 
 the hearts of the people, that he cannot tear 
 himself away, without violence. Probably, he 
 will never again attempt it. He has made up 
 his mind now to live, and labour, and die here, 
 if God sees best. I am content. I love Wes 
 ton I love our people. Here have all my 
 children been born ; no other spot could be so 
 dear. 
 
HARD TIMES. TT 
 
 CHAPTER X, 
 
 HARD TIMES. 
 
 SEVEIVAL years later in the history of our 
 minister s.; family, we find them at a period of 
 their greatest pressure. Now, there are seven 
 children four boys and three girls, to be fed, 
 clothed, and educated on five hundred a year 
 and presents. 
 
 Mr. Edwards, with great perseverance and at 
 some professional sacrifice, had managed to fit 
 the two eldest boys for college. Henry was 
 nearly sixteen, an ambitious boy and a good 
 scholar. He had not as yet given any evidence 
 of piety. Next in order to him was Emma,, a 
 discreet, amiable, matronly girl, who was a great 
 help to her mother. She had been kept at the 
 Western High-school, which was sometimes well 
 and sometimes badly managed ; and in addition 
 to this, her father had encouraged her studying 
 with her brothers, so that she had thus far been 
 well educated. Next to her came George,, who 
 seemed to like any tiling better than study. 
 
THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 Then followed the sprightly and beautiful Kate, 
 then Susan, who was mother all over again; 
 then John, who was about like other boys, and 
 Jamie the baby and pet all these to be pro 
 vided for, with the short, scanty purse. 
 
 It was wonderful to see how it held out. 
 They never went hungry. True, neither tea, 
 nor coffee, nor sugar was seen on their table ; 
 but there was plenty of fresh, sweet milk. Meat 
 was a rarity ; but there was no lack of hasty- 
 pudding and bean-porridge, pea-soup, and pota 
 toes. Poultry in abundance, too, at Thanks 
 giving, and a fine pig killed about Christmas. 
 The little farm, which the stout boys helped 
 work, furnished their vegetables and fed the 
 horse, while their fruit-trees sometimes brought 
 them in a little money. Of cakes, pies and 
 preserves, they seldom tasted ; notwithstanding 
 which, their cheeks were as rosy and their com 
 plexion as fair as those who fared sumptuously 
 every day. In their dress, however, their nar 
 row income was more perceptible. Garments 
 were handed down from one to another turned 
 upside down and inside out patched and re- 
 patched, and worn as long as they could be 
 made tidily to hold together. Homely and out 
 f fashion their clothing necessarily was, often, 
 
HARD TIMES. 79 
 
 but never ragged or dirty. It took so much 
 cloth to cover them, and both boys and girli 
 grew so fast, that what was purchased was gene 
 rally of cheap material. Sometimes, Mrs. Ed 
 wards wished that, for their sakes, she could 
 afford to dress them a little better ; but then 
 again, true to her confidence in God, she felt 
 quite convinced that God had given them every 
 thing which it was best for them to have. 
 
 To make the most of this, however, she toiled 
 incessantly. She turned her hand to every 
 thing. Often she felt obliged to steal time 
 from sleep, and she would sit up late, cutting 
 and contriving, making and fitting. 
 
 An old coat, perhaps, of Mr. Edwards s, must 
 make a Sunday jacket, "good as new," for one 
 of the boys, or a dress of aunty s must be made 
 over for the third or fourth time, now, for the 
 baby. "While thus occupied, particularly if 
 alone, it was her habit to sing in a low, sweet 
 voice, her favourite hymns, one of which was, 
 
 " While thee I seek, protecting Power, &c. 
 
 To her family, she always appeared quiet and 
 happy, and they never were conscious how con 
 stantly she exerted herself. Notwithstanding 
 
80 
 
 THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 her home cares, her social duties were not ne 
 glected. Her place was seldom vacant at the 
 prayer-meetings, and she seemed always ready 
 to answer a call of poverty or sickness. It 
 was wonderful how much she accomplished, with 
 feeble health, too ; and yet she did her work so 
 quietly and naturally, that her labours were ap 
 preciated only in their results. 
 
GOING TO COLLEGE. 81 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 GOING TO COLLEGE. 
 
 THE time came when our minister s family 
 was to be broken in upon, and the nestlings 
 must scatter. Henry was about to enter col 
 lege. Every nerve had been strained to fit him 
 out. At their last donation-party, one little 
 thing had occurred, which Mrs. Edwards loved 
 to regard as a special providence. It was this : 
 a whole piece of cotton cloth had been given 
 them, for the first time, and it exactly met their 
 necessities. 
 
 One afternoon, wiiile Mrs. Edwards, Emma, 
 and Kate were sewing busily, making it up into 
 shirts, Miss Cribby called. - 
 
 " Always find you at work, here," said she. 
 " Wish some folks in the parish would take pat 
 tern by ye. They d be better off." 
 
 "We are fitting Henry out," said Mrs. Ed 
 wards, smiling. " He enters college, this 
 fall." 
 
 "Enters college ! Why, bless me ! Isn t he 
 too young?" 
 
82 THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 "No; he is about sixteen." 
 
 " Sixteen ! Well, I never ! How time does fly 
 away with one. It seems but yesterday that 
 he was born. How pretty he looked the first 
 time I saw him. Little toad ! I felt as if I 
 wanted to give him a good shaking." 
 
 Kate, by this time, had unloaded the rocking- 
 chair ; and, placing it by the window, she in 
 vited Miss Cribby to sit down. 
 
 "Well, I don t care if I do," was the reply. 
 " How much have you got to do, Mrs. Edwards, 
 to fix him off?" 
 
 " We have just commenced on his shirts; but 
 I intend to keep Emma and Kate at home for 
 a little while, and I think we shall get along 
 nicely." 
 
 " Dear me ! Why on earth, now, can t some 
 of the folks come in and give you a lift? 
 They might, just as well as not. I do wonder 
 why nobody ever seems to think of such things 
 but me. I d take hold, myself, if I had any 
 eyes." 
 
 "I think we shall get through in season. 
 
 " Now, that is because you are always afraid 
 of troubling other people, Mrs. Edwards. I 
 don t see any sense in it." 
 
 Miss Cribby soon rose, made rather an awk- 
 
GOING TO COLLEGE. 83 
 
 ward apology for her short call, and took her 
 leave. Miss Cribby had a notion in her head. 
 First, she went to Deacon Emery s to tell the 
 news. 
 
 " Henry Edwards was going to college in a 
 fortnight, and Mrs. Edwards had a world of 
 sewing to do, to get him fixed out ; and for her 
 part, she thought it was a sin and a shame for 
 them to stand by and see her working herself 
 to death, and never offer to give her a lift." 
 
 Thus went Miss Cribby from house to house, 
 scolding some, coaxing others, and inviting all 
 to a Sewing Bee the next afternoon, at the 
 minister s, giving them as a last charge, "Mind 
 ye, now, and bring your own victuals." 
 
 Miss Cribby s Bee was a very large one, and 
 was really a great help. Particularly so was it 
 to little Kate, for a great part of the fine 
 stitching was done. This she had intended to 
 do herself. Dear child ! She meant to stitch 
 Henry s linen everywhere where it was suitable ; 
 for she felt as if nothing could be too nice for 
 him to go to college with. 
 
 Mrs. Edwards was so very careful never to 
 seem to demand assistance from their people, 
 ihat it was cheerfully offered. This is not al- 
 
84 THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 ways the case. Sometimes assistance is given 
 reluctantly. The ladies who are pressed with 
 their own sewing, feel that it is rather hard 
 they should be called upon to sew for the minis 
 ter s wife. Do not yield to these feelings, my 
 friend. Go and help her gladly, and be sure 
 this act will find a place in that golden line 
 with the "cup of cold water." You do not 
 know how much she has to do with her time, 
 and never will, unless you are a faithful minis 
 ter s wife yourself. Assist her all you can. 
 You may still feel that you receive quite as much 
 as you give though you may not always trace 
 it directly to her. 
 
 Were you comforted and strengthened by the 
 sermon, last Sabbath morning ? Had not your 
 minister s wife left all her Saturday s mending, 
 and gone in and sat down five different times 
 with persons who called, it would not have been 
 finished. 
 
 Did you enjoy much at the last prayer-meet 
 ing, because your minister was there, with all 
 his heart in it ? Had 1 not his wife stayed at 
 home, and, after a hard day s work, rocked and 
 nursed and walked about with the teething 
 child, he could not have been present. If you 
 think your minister s wife has an easy life of 
 
GOING TO COLLEGE. 85 
 
 it, you are mistaken. If you think, with all 
 its toils, she finds much to enjoy In it, you are 
 right. 
 
 But to return to our story. 
 
 Miss Cribby, not satisfied with her Bee, went 
 to work to see what else she could do. Going 
 about from one to another, and finally ending 
 with Mr. Dodge, with whom she had a regular 
 siege, she accomplished her object, and collected 
 ten dollars in money. 
 
 One morning she came to the parsonage at 
 breakfast-time, but entered without ceremony, 
 as usual. She seemed embarrassed something 
 new for her, Mr. Edwards asked her to sit 
 down. 
 
 " No, she couldn t stop ; she only wanted to 
 know how they all were, and how they got 
 along, and if they were almost through, and if 
 they didn t want some more help about the 
 sewing." 
 
 She was duly informed on these points, and 
 then there was a pause. 
 
 " I may as well tell on t first as last," said 
 Miss Cribby, trying to keep back some awkward 
 tears. " May be this ll help you some at this 
 pull; and if it does, I m paid, that s all." She 
 laid the roll of bills on Mr. Edwards s plate, 
 
86 
 
 THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 walked out of the room as fast as she could go, 
 and in the gladness of her heart cried all the 
 way home. 
 
 Ten dollars! Ten dollars! The children 
 crowded around to look at it. 
 
 " Only think, Henry," cried Kate, " ten dol 
 lars I why, it will almost carry you through 
 college." 
 
 This was indeed timely aid ; and when the 
 minister and his family kneeled in prayer, both 
 gift and giver were rememhered with grati 
 tude. 
 
THE PACKING. 87 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE PACKING. 
 
 HENRY S first new suit of broadcloth, which 
 was to be paid for at some future time, arrived. 
 He put it on and walked proudly about. His 
 father and mother looked at him, but were si 
 lent. It seemed as if they now realized, for 
 the first time, that he was getting on, into man 
 hood that he was to leave them that he was 
 very dear to them. The children, noisy in 
 their love, gathered about him, all but George, 
 who, now beginning to think himself almost a 
 man, stood at a distance, to pass his judgment 
 coolly. 
 
 "I think," said he, "it s pretty well done 
 for a country tailor. You ll pass muster, I 
 guess, Harry. You ll be dressed as well as 
 any of them, at any rate." 
 
 Kate looked upon him with her sparkling, 
 blue eyes. " He will be the handsomest fellow 
 in all college, I know that." 
 
 "Kate, don t be silly," said Emma; "you ll 
 
88 THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 make him vain, if you tell him so ; i handsome 
 is that handsome does. 
 
 "I hope he will be the best man in college," 
 said his father, "whoever may be the hand 
 somest." 
 
 "Have you nothing to say, mother? in 
 quired Henry, turning to her. 
 
 "I like your clothes, my son they fit well." 
 
 "Well, mustn t he be good, to pay for it, 
 mother ?" said John. 
 
 "Yes," said his mother, as she approached 
 Henry and kissed him fondly. Henry knew 
 her well enough to understand that her heart 
 was full, and that her chief desire for.him she 
 would not express at so noisy a time. 
 
 At length, all Henry s sewing was finished. 
 Mrs. Edwards rejoiced on Kate s account, for 
 it seemed as if the child would make herself ill. 
 She would sit there, near the window, by the 
 hour together, with her sampler in her lap, 
 stitching in, on one thread, on all the linen, 
 "Henry Edwards" in full. She had an idea 
 that college was a bad place, and he might pos 
 sibly lose some of his precious property, if it 
 were not well marked. 
 
 Then came the packing. Now the old trunk, 
 which Mr. Edwards himself had carried to col- 
 
THE PACKING. oy 
 
 lege, was brought down from the garret into 
 the kitchen. Emma sat down very quietly on 
 the floor by it, and began to rub up the tar 
 nished brass nails. No one paid much atten 
 tion to her, excepting George, who, seeing what 
 was to come of it, slipped out at the back-door, 
 ran over to the shoemaker s, and obtained some 
 strips of red leather. When he returned, the 
 nails were shining like stars, and " Henry Ed 
 wards" twinkled out on the cover like a new 
 constellation. This threw the rest of the chil 
 dren into quite a fever about making a new 
 trunk out of the old one. Kate, with a huge 
 pair of shears, which made deep, blue indents 
 in her delicate fingers, must needs point all the 
 strips of leather. Then the boys would try 
 their skill with blacking and brush. At length, 
 after a good morning s work, the trunk suited 
 all. Even Mr. Edwards was obliged to confess 
 that it looked about as well as when he first 
 took it. 
 
 The trunk was large, and Henry s wardrobe 
 at best but scanty, yet, in one way and another, 
 it was filled. Each child had a little present 
 for him. Johnny had picked out a bag full of 
 nuts. Suzy had a budget of nice pen-wipers 
 and holders. Kate had quilted him a pair of 
 
90 THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 slippers, stitching in the leaves and flowers, 
 Emma filled a box with good substantial dough 
 nuts. George owned a portfolio, a birthday 
 gift this he cheerfully placed by the other 
 presents. A new penknife was there, too, from 
 his father, but nothing there from his mother yet. 
 
 The last article was in, and no excuse offered 
 for lingering longer over the packing. Kate 
 had smoothed each article, even to her own sa 
 tisfaction, and Emma was quite convinced that 
 no book could rub the new suit now. 
 
 "Come, children," said Mr. Edwards, "it is 
 now quite late ; we will have prayers. Henry 
 must be off bright and early, you know." The 
 children followed him into the sitting-room. 
 
 "Father," said Emma, "may we sing 
 
 The voice of free grace 
 
 to-night?" 
 
 "Yes, do, father," said Kate, that s Henry s 
 tune." 
 
 " It will be pleasant to sing it all together, 
 once more," said Mrs. Edwards. 
 
 All sang, and yet, among so many voices, 
 there was one, harmonious, yet clear and dis 
 tinct from the others ; it was to this chiefly the 
 mother listened, for it was Henry s. 
 
THE PACKING. 91 
 
 After the singing, they kneeled in prayer. 
 Henry did not always seem to join in prayer, 
 but this night he did not lose a single word. 
 His father prayed for him. Henry was startled 
 by the earnestness with which he seemed to 
 wrestle with God for a blessing on his son. 
 How he prayed that God would keep watch 
 over him, and preserve him in the midst of the 
 temptations and dangers to which he would be 
 exposed ! Henry seemed, for the first time, to 
 feel that he needed other strength than his own 
 to "keep him from the evil," and he sincerely 
 wished that God would be his friend. 
 
 At the close, his father briefly alluded to this 
 first family separation. Henry heard a stifled 
 sob from Kate, who was kneeling by him, and 
 it required a very manly effort to control his 
 own feelings. They rose, exchanged a good 
 night and kiss. "I shall be up and I," said 
 one and another so they would not now bid 
 each other good-by. 
 
 Henry slept alone in the little bedroom 
 which opened into the kitchen. After he had 
 retired and extinguished his light, he heard the 
 latch of his door gently lifted, and his mother 
 entered with a lamp. 
 
 " Henry," said she, "are you asleep?" 
 
THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 "No, mother." 
 
 She came and sat on the side of his bed. 
 
 "My son," said she, "I have not given you 
 my present yet; I wished to wait until you 
 were alone. Here it is, Henry ; it is the best 
 of all books which I have chosen, and I have 
 written your name in it, and also a verse which 
 expresses my heart s desire for you. Will you 
 read this Bible every day, Henry, for your mo 
 ther s sake ?" 
 
 He could not immediately reply. 
 
 "I bought as handsome a copy as I could, 
 Henry. I did not know but it would be more 
 pleasant for you to have it lie on your study- 
 table, if it were well bound. It is an English 
 Bible. See do you like it ?" 
 
 Henry held it under the candle, and turned 
 it over and over, but he could not speak a 
 word. 
 
 "My dear child," said she, throwing her 
 arms affectionately around him, "I feel as if 
 I must tell you, before you leave me, what a 
 comfort you have always been to me ; you may 
 like to think of it when you are away. I have 
 depended upon you a great deal, Henry. You 
 are my first-born ; and, from your babyhood 
 until now, you have always been dutiful and 
 
THE PACKING. 
 
 considerate towards your mother. You have 
 been a good son. I do not think I have ever 
 felt impatient with you more than once or twice 
 in your life ; but I want you to forget that. 
 And now, my boy, if you were a Christian, it 
 seems to me I should have no wish ungratified 
 about you. In the excitement of your college 
 life, you will not forget the wish which lies 
 nearest your mother s heart will you?" 
 
 Henry dared not speak. 
 
 " Mother will miss you sadly, son y boy; but 
 then it is all right," said she, speaking quickly 
 and cheerfully. "Vacation will soon be here, 
 and then we shall have you at home again. 
 Good night! I will put the Bible in your 
 trunk. Good night ! Go to sleep, as quick as 
 you can." 
 
 She closed the door. Henry could control 
 himself no longer. He buried his head in the 
 bedclothes and wept like a child. His mother s 
 farewell had unmanned him he was still his 
 mother s boy, if he was fitted for college. 
 Gradually, however, he became more quiet, 
 and began to form plans for the future. He 
 determined that he would sweep all before him 
 in college that he would graduate with the 
 highest honours that he would have his mo- 
 
 8* 
 
94 THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 ther there, so proud of him, and so happy. 
 Then he would rise fast in his profession, and 
 make money fast he would be a rich man, and 
 his mother should ride in her carriage, and 
 have plenty of servants and then, soothed 
 by his golden visions, he fell asleep. 
 
 He had quite lost sight of the wish which 
 lay nearest his mother s heart. In his plans 
 for making her happy, he had already left out 
 the only thing which could do so his conver 
 sion to Grod. 
 
TROUBLES. 95 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 TROUBLES. 
 
 GEORGE gave his parents anxiety. He was 
 restless, fond of wild freaks, and not of his 
 books. After Henry s departure, most of the 
 chores about home fell to him, and for the first 
 time his mother had trouble in getting them 
 properly attended to. George began also to 
 complain of Weston. " It was a dull, stupid 
 place; he wished he could go out and see a 
 little of the world." His father proposed that 
 he should give up study, and go into a store ; 
 but this proposal did not please him. He 
 wished to go through college, and study medi 
 cine. "Nothing," he said, "would tempt him 
 to be a minister : he had seen enough of that 
 life." 
 
 One evening his father and mother were 
 kept up quite late, waiting for him. He had 
 been absent all day, and no one knew where 
 he had gone. 
 
THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 " What shall we do with him ?" said Mr. 
 Edwards, as he paced the room. "I never 
 shall dare to send him to college he is so 
 easily led astray; and yet he is so bent on 
 going, I am afraid he will never do any thing 
 anywhere else." 
 
 " I have been thinking, lately," replied Mrs. 
 Edwards, " that perhaps the child really needs 
 some change. He has lived here all his life, 
 and gone the same round, year after year, and 
 his restless, active temperament finds little 
 vent here. I wish we could send him away for 
 six months or a year ; it would almost be the 
 saving of the boy." 
 
 "I know that," said Mr. Edwards; "it is 
 just what he needs, but just what we cannot 
 do. We are straining every nerve, now, to 
 keep Henry along." 
 
 " Yes, that is true, but I have thought it all 
 over, and I cannot help hoping and expecting, 
 that if it is necessary the dear child should go, 
 God will in some way open a door for us. We 
 can be on the look-out for opportunities which 
 he may throw in our way." 
 
 After this conversation, Mr. Edwards, bear 
 ing the thing in mind, made inquiries about 
 the neighbouring schools, and expressed his 
 
TROUBLES. 97 
 
 wishes to one or two of his brother minis 
 ters. 
 
 It was not long before he received a letter 
 from an old classmate, who was then principal 
 of an academy, and who had a son in delicate 
 health, whom he wished to send out into the 
 country, where he could study a little, and 
 work in the open air as his strength would 
 allow. He proposed to Mr. Edwards that 
 they should make an exchange of boys. 
 
 Mrs. Edwards s hopeful spirit was prophetic. 
 This was just the chance for George, and it 
 seemed provided at the right time. They de 
 termined immediately to accept it. Then he 
 must be fitted out. But here a new trouble 
 arose ; there was nothing to fit him out with. 
 The clothing which he had, though clean and 
 whole, was not suitable to be worn among well- 
 dressed boys in a large village-academy. His 
 mother knew that he would be mortified and 
 made unhappy by it. She thought about it 
 day and night she devised plan after plan 
 none would succeed without money, and money 
 she had not. She went again and again to her 
 closets hoping some article might have been 
 overlooked ; but no, they had been too 
 thoroughly ransacked before. Not a coat 
 
yo IflE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 nor a pair of pants was left to be made over ; 
 even the last old stock-frame had been re 
 covered for Henry. 
 
 " We cannot do it," said she with a sigh, 
 " unless we run in debt, or deprive the other 
 children of necessary clothing." 
 
 " It must indeed be a desperate case which 
 you give up," said Mr. Edwards. "You have 
 dressed your boys so long out of nothing, that 
 I never thought of this proving a serious ob 
 stacle. I am sorry indeed, but, fortunately, I 
 have not told George, so that he will not be 
 disappointed. I will write Mr. Hardy that we 
 cannot make it out this year." 
 
 " He did not wish him to come until spring ?" 
 said Mrs. Edwards. 
 
 "No!" 
 
 " Can we not, then, defer giving a definite 
 answer until the first of March?" 
 
 " Oh, yes ; but we should be no better off 
 then." 
 
 "I do not know," said Mrs. Edwards; "I 
 cannot help hoping something will turn up ; 
 we may save him one suit, by that time, out 
 of something. Our donation-party is yet to 
 come, and you remember our cotton-cloth last 
 
TROUBLES. 99 
 
 year. That really seemed like a special pro 
 vidence." 
 
 "Well," said Mr. Edwards with a smile, 
 "it is, i Hope on, hope ever, with you; it shall 
 be as you wish. I will write Mr. Hardy that 
 we like the plan exceedingly, and if we can 
 make it out, will let him know definitely, early 
 in the spring. In the mean time, I think we 
 had better be careful not to let George hear 
 of it." 
 
 In due time came the somewhat anxiously 
 expected donation-party. What was given 
 proved to be rather less in value than it had 
 previously been. Some might have remem 
 bered that Miss Cribby had called upon them 
 in the autumn. After the party, Mrs. Ed 
 wards went anxiously round to examine the 
 gifts. Alas ! there was nothing to help her 
 about George nothing at all. Not a dollar 
 in money had been given. She felt disap 
 pointed; for she had depended upon aid from 
 this source. She sighed as she came to the 
 conclusion that, from their already contracted 
 expenses, one suit of clothes more must be 
 saved. 
 
 In the mean time, they heard often from 
 Henry. He soon recovered from his home- 
 
100 
 
 THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 sickness, and wrote in high spirits. He was 
 full of ambitious hopes, and, from his own 
 account, seemed to be hard at work. During 
 the term, his tutor wrote once to Mr. Edwards, 
 and spoke of Henry in the highest terms. He 
 had taken the first rank in his class. 
 
HOPING OX. 101 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 HOPING ON. 
 
 JOURNAL. 
 
 IT has cost me a struggle to feel reconciled 
 to my disappointment about George. He is a 
 bright boy, I trust with good principles and a 
 kind heart; yet he is wild and restless, and 
 easily led astray. He wants firmness of cha 
 racter. Mr. Hardy made us a fine offer; it 
 seemed to me just the place for him, but we 
 have not a dollar to spend on his outfit. It 
 takes all we can spare to keep Henry along, as 
 we wish to run in debt as little as possible. It 
 seems to me I never was so conscious as I now 
 am, that we are poor. After my disappoint 
 ment about the donation-party, I found myself 
 often, wondering if we could not find a place to 
 live where they would give a better salary. We 
 are seeing our hardest times ; if we ever need 
 money, it is now, while we are educating our 
 children. Perhaps, earlier in life I ought to 
 have acceded to Mr. Edwards s desire to leave 
 
102 THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 Weston ; yet then I could never make it seem 
 clearly the path of duty,, and why should I re 
 gret our decision ? Was it easier to trust my 
 children to God s care when they were young 
 than it is now, as they begin to leave us ? No, 
 I do trust him, and, for the most part, my heart 
 is peaceful. I will leave my erring boy with 
 him. He will do for him what is best. 
 
 Henry is getting along remarkably well. I 
 am more than satisfied. When he writes, par 
 ticularly to me, I go away alone to read his let 
 ters. I am so happy, it is a relief to weep. I 
 think it is unusual for a boy to retain so tender 
 a regard for his mother as Henry does. He is 
 studying very hard, his tutor tells us. He 
 wishes to have me proud of him. I must watch 
 my own heart here. If I do not really feel that 
 to be truly great one must be truly good, I shall 
 fail in making him believe it. He means to 
 teach school in his long vacations, and is look 
 ing forward to the law as a profession. I hope 
 I may live to see him a minister. He is our 
 firstling of the flock, and in a peculiar manner 
 was consecrated to God. The conversion of the 
 children is our first object ; for this, chiefly, we 
 labour and pray ; all else regarding them is, I 
 trust, but secondary with us. Emma is a great 
 
HOPING ON. 103 
 
 comfort ; we have good reason to hope that she 
 has experienced a change of heart. She wishes 
 to unite with our church, and I think will do so 
 in Henry s vacation. Her father hopes to have 
 us all together then. Kate, I can see, thinks 
 and feels much, though she says but little. To 
 me she appears as if she already indulged a 
 trembling hope that she is a child of God, and 
 yet feared to express it. She is gay and lively 
 in her temperament, and perhaps is afraid she 
 might bring a reproach upon the profession of a 
 Christian. Her tender conscience will, I trust, 
 prove a safeguard to her ; for we cannot but see 
 that she is growing more and more beautiful 
 every day, though as yet she does not seem to 
 know it. Suzy is very sweet-tempered. Oh ! 
 we have a world of comfort in our children. I 
 am astonished when I look back and see how 
 much God has enabled us to do for them, with 
 such limited means. We have every reason to 
 trust him with the future, and I will put away 
 all my anxieties about George. 
 
104 THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE FIRST WELCOME HOME. 
 
 AT the parsonage, the great event to be looked 
 forward to was Henry s vacation. The children 
 counted the weeks ; but Time kept on his steady 
 jog, neither hastening nor loitering, and soon 
 brought them where they reckoned by days, 
 then by hours, w T hen Henry would be among 
 them. 
 
 "Do eat your breakfast, Kate," said Mr. 
 Edwards ; " there is no hurry. He cannot reach 
 here before six, and the travelling is so bad, I 
 presume it will be seven or after." 
 
 " I am not hungry, father," said Kate. 
 
 " I guess they will come fast to-night, father," 
 said Susan, " because Henry will whip up the 
 horses." 
 
 "Most likely he will take the reins himself," 
 said John, "and then the way he ll cut the 
 horses, up-hill and down, I tell you, won t be 
 Blow. I wish I were on the box with him." 
 
 "Mother," said Emma, "wouldn t you make 
 
HE FIRST WELCOME HOME. 105 
 
 some apple-pies to-day ? You know Henry is 
 very fond of them." 
 
 Mrs. Edwards thought this was a good sug 
 gestion, and determined to set each child at 
 work about something which should have some 
 reference to Henry. She had a tact for plan 
 ning, and succeeded in keeping the little ones 
 occupied, so that the sun went down in good 
 season. 
 
 "Now," said Mr. Edwards, " we will wait tea 
 for him." 
 
 " Then, I think," said Mrs. Edwards, "that 
 we had better all go and dress. We want to 
 look our best when he comes, you know ; after 
 that, we will get tea." 
 
 The children scampered away. There was a 
 great running hither and thither, and shouting 
 and hurrying, though they well knew they had 
 plenty of time. George, when dressed, walked 
 down the hill. Johnny, once in every few 
 minutes, capered out into the front yard, climbed 
 the gate, and sat there until the cold cb ove him 
 in. Even little Jamie, if not watched, would 
 tottle away to the ever open front-door, and put 
 his chubby face into the frosty air. Emma 
 quietly set the table, taking care, however, to 
 keep a good look-out. Kate, now really pale 
 
106 THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 from excitement, ran up to the garret windows, 
 and there she stood, straining her blue eyes, 
 vainly trying to see through the deepening twi 
 light. She was repaid by being the first to 
 espy the lanterns on the old lumbering coach. 
 She clapped her hands, she ran down-stairs, 
 and upsetting Suzy in her way, cried, " He s 
 come ! he s come ! Oh, he has come !" 
 
 " Keep a little more quiet, children, if you 
 can," said Mrs. Edwards, in her gentle tone. 
 George and John had not heard her they had 
 already given a loud shout it was echoed from 
 the stage-box a cap waved in the air another 
 loud huzza, and Henry was in the midst of them. 
 This was the first welcome of the college-boy 
 home. 
 
THE OLD PLAID CLOAK. 107 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 THE OLD PLAID CLOAK. 
 
 FOR a few days, nothing was thought of but 
 Henry. Work and study were alike neglected. 
 Mrs. Edwards found no fault, but quietly put 
 her own shoulder to the wheel. Even the 
 thoughtful Emma did not observe that her mo 
 ther was doing all the work. She, with the 
 rest, was fascinated with Henry and his college 
 stories, which seemed to transport them into a 
 new world. He had to repeat them over and 
 over again they were never tired of hearing 
 them. Henry was both patient and communi 
 cative ; he always gratified them. He had im 
 proved very much in his manners and appear 
 ance. IJis face, always attractive, had received 
 a new charm from a certain air which he had 
 acquired. His father looked on him with pride ; 
 he was a noble boy. His mother loved to keep 
 him in sight ; but her watchful ear soon detected 
 a sound which startled her ; it was a slight hack 
 ing cough, to which none of her children had 
 
108 THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 been subject. It recalled the illness of her bro 
 ther, who had died young with consumption. 
 She also noticed a tendency to hoarseness, and 
 inquired into it anxiously. 
 
 "I have taken a little cold/ said Henry; 
 "I shall get over it pretty soon." His father 
 accounted for it by his studious and sedentary 
 habits of late. He had changed his whole 
 manner of living; rest and recreation would 
 restore him perfectly. Time passed, however, 
 and the "cold" was no better. Mrs. Edwards 
 became alarmed. 
 
 One night she followed him into his little 
 bedroom. "Henry," said she, "you are no 
 better at all, and I am not willing to have this 
 go on any longer without attention. I must 
 send for a physician to-morrow." 
 
 " Don t, pray don t send for a doctor, 
 mother; there is really no need of it. I ll 
 take any thing you want me to take, if you are 
 so much in earnest about it. But I, tell you 
 the truth when I say, that I am a great deal 
 better than I have been. The cold is going off." 
 
 " Better than you have been ! Have you had 
 this long, Henry?" she asked, deeply agitated. 
 
 " Not so very long, mother ; only it has been 
 much worse." 
 
THE OLD PLAID CLOAK. 109 
 
 " And you did not let me know it ? That 
 was not right. Tell me now all about it ; how 
 did you take such a cold in the first place? 
 Have you been very ill?" said she, speaking 
 now very seriously, for she read in Henry s 
 face that there was something in this matter 
 which he wished to conceal. " Come, my son; 
 you must tell your mother all about it." 
 
 Henry burst out laughing, for it seemed to 
 be the only thing he could do. 
 
 "Pray do not look so distressed," said he; 
 " sit down by me, and I will tell you the whole 
 story. About four weeks ago we had a pelting 
 rain, and I got pretty well soaked through, just 
 going over to my meals, and it was too much 
 trouble to dry my clothes, because, you see, I 
 should have to go right out again." 
 
 "But I thought you boarded very near 
 college ?" 
 
 " So I do." 
 
 "How could you get so wet, then, with a 
 cloak on?" 
 
 "Why, you see, i did not wear my cloak 
 that day ; so now, mother, you have the whole 
 story. I am getting well fast. Just bring on 
 the julep, and that will complete the cure." 
 
 Mrs. Edwards knew her son well enough to 
 
110 TflE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 knoT\ there was something about this matter 
 which Jie still kept to himself. She sat a few 
 minutes lost in thought, then light seemed sud 
 denly to flash upon her. 
 
 "Henry," said she, "you never wear your 
 cloak." 
 
 "How can you prove that, mother?" said 
 Henry, laughing. 
 
 "Do you, my son? Do you wear your 
 cloak?" 
 
 " Why, you see, mother, I never wear it on 
 a warm day; it is too heavy." 
 
 " But do you ever wear it on a cold day ?" 
 
 "I wear it cold nights, very often, mother." 
 
 " Ah ! Henry, I see how it is ; it looks out 
 of date ; it is quite out of fashion there ; is it 
 not?" 
 
 " It is just as warm for all that, you know, 
 mother." 
 
 " Have you been all winter long without any 
 overcoat ?" 
 
 " I am tough, mother." 
 
 " And you have gone, tired, out of your hot 
 room, into cold and storm, with no additional 
 clothing ?" 
 
 " Oh, yes, mother, I always wear my tippet, 
 and I run when it is very cold." 
 
THE OLD PLAID CLOAK. Ill 
 
 " You are not strong enough for such expo 
 sure, Henry. It has already cost you a cold 
 which you may never get rid of. From such a 
 cold your poor uncle never recovered. I do 
 not think you have done just right, my son." 
 
 "But, mother," said Henry, "to tell you the 
 plain truth, I could not wear my cloak ; the 
 fellows laughed at me. You have no idea how 
 it looks there. Nobody wears plaid cloaks and 
 square capes now-a-days. If I go without any, 
 they think I am tough." 
 
 "You cannot live so," said his mother sor 
 rowfully, for she remembered George s wants. 
 
 " There is a friend of mine, Ned Elliott, who 
 is as rich as Croesus. He has a splendid broad 
 cloth cloak, all lined with woollen, which he 
 gave forty dollars for, and he has been teazing 
 me to buy it of him for twelve. He has worn 
 his cloak two winters, and that is as long as he 
 ever wears any thing, and he is tired of it. I 
 did not mean to tell you this, mother ; my plan 
 was, to see if I could not in some way, by copy 
 ing for a lawyer whom I know, earn enough to 
 pay for it next term." 
 
 "And did you mean to do without any until 
 you could earn it?" 
 
 " I thought you and Emma would cure my 
 
112 THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 cold by good nursing, and then the winter is 
 half gone. If it was not for this deuced cough, 
 I should be well enough now." 
 
 This was a new word one which was never 
 heard at the parsonage before. Mrs. Edwards 
 looked at Henry, and he felt her silent reproof. 
 He was sorry he had said it. 
 
 "Go to sleep now," said she, "it is very 
 late ; we will talk more about it to-morrow." 
 
 Mrs. Edwards went into the other room and 
 sat down by the fire alone. What was to be 
 done now ? She had not the heart to blame 
 him ; he had always been sensitive to ridicule, 
 and she thought, if it was as he represented it, 
 she really could not expect him to wear the old 
 cloak. To go back without one, in his present 
 state of health, would be at the risk of his life, 
 and yet, to get him one was impossible. If by 
 any means money could be raised, in all justice 
 it must be spent on George. She could not 
 help weeping. She would gladly have taken 
 her last black dress to meet the emergency, but 
 that was by no means suitable for an over 
 coat. 
 
 "It cannot be helped," said she at last to 
 herself with quiet sorrow ; "he must wear it 
 and bear the laugh." She felt that she could 
 
THE OLD PLAID CLOAK. 
 
 understand the suffering this would cause him.. 
 She could see the colour mounting to his tem 
 ples, and the trembling of his lip at the unfeel 
 ing jest. How gladly would she shield his 
 young heart from such trials. But there was 
 nothing left for her to do, but to pray for him. 
 She prayed earnestly that God would give them 
 entire submission to his holy will ; that he would 
 make them contented and cheerful under the 
 allotments of his providence. As she commit 
 ted the case to God, her agitation subsided, and 
 her heart returned to its peaceful trust, as a 
 bird to its nest. 
 
 "Yes," thought she as she retired, " all will 
 be right. How do I know but God designs 
 to bless this suffering to Henry ? I will not 
 be distressed; if it is best for him that he 
 should be relieved, some way will be pro 
 vided." 
 
 The next day she told Mr. Edwards, and he 
 also was at first much troubled. "I cannot 
 see," said he, "what we can do about it, and 
 yet it is a great pity to let such a chance slip. 
 A very common article would cost twelve dol 
 lars. There is no question but that it would be 
 good economy to buy it. Here are three boys 
 
 to wear it after him, and it will probably look 
 10 
 
THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 well as long as it holds together. If it were 
 not for George s clothes, I could appropriate 
 five dollars towards it." 
 
 Henry entered at this moment. "What 
 about George, father?" 
 
 Mr. Edwards, without alluding to the cloak, 
 explained to him how they were situated with 
 regard to George. 
 
 "He ought to go that s a fact," said Hen 
 ry; "he is as restless as a fish out of water. 
 If the only trouble in the way is his clothing, I 
 think I can remedy that." 
 
 He then told them that Ned Elliott had al 
 ready given him a large box full of summer 
 clothing which he had done wearing, and wanted 
 to get out of his way : most of it is as good 
 as new. "I took it," said Henry, "because I 
 knew mother would be glad of it. I can t wear 
 the clothes ; they are too small for me : and I 
 should not exactly want to wear them there, if 
 I could. They will just fit George. I meant 
 to have brought them home, but the box was 
 under my bed, and I forgot it." He enume 
 rated the articles to his mother, and she found 
 they would abundantly fit out George. She 
 exchanged a significant glance with her hus 
 band her eyes beamed with pleasure she met 
 
THE OLD PLAID CLOAK. 115 
 
 an answering look both were thinking of the 
 five dollars and the new cloak. 
 
 In the afternoon, Mrs. Edwards made a con 
 fidant of Emma. Her thoughtful mind some 
 times suggested expedients which were valuable 
 to her mother. At this time she wore a demure 
 face for some hours, and then came with her 
 plan. 
 
 " Mother, I think I can make my best dress 
 last another year, if I turn it and put the top 
 at bottom, and buy a little new trimming ; and, 
 as I calculate, this will save about two dollars 
 towards the cloak so we have seven already." 
 
 Mrs. Edwards was much pleased with this 
 generous offer, and she accepted it. But vaca 
 tion drew near its close, and the much needed 
 five-dollar bill had not turned up. 
 
 "We cannot make it out, after all," said Mrs. 
 Edwards, with a sigh. 
 
 "In one way we can," replied Mr. Edwards. 
 "As a dernier resort, I can give up my Re 
 view. This year, in all probability, is our 
 hardest, and we must meet its exigencies at any 
 sacrifice." 
 
 Mrs. Edwards knew that it would be a great 
 sacrifice to Mr. Edwards to relinquish this, 
 their only periodical, and she was about to pro- 
 
116 THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 test against it, when a slight hacking cough, 
 heard in the entry, checked her. Reluctantly 
 by both, this arrangement was at last agreed 
 upon and Mr. Edwards wrote that day to have 
 the Review discontinued. Before the wafer 
 was dry upon this note, he was called down to 
 see a friend, an old man, who was exceedingly 
 rich. The old gentleman was sociable ho 
 asked to see the children, expressed great plea 
 sure at their appearance, and cordially invited 
 them to come and make him a visit. He dined 
 heartily on ham and eggs, drank with a relish 
 a fine cup of coffee, and was in high spirits. 
 He had been very hospitably entertained, and 
 was impressed with the idea that the Edwardses 
 must be "well off." He was a man who never 
 sought out charities; he had no practical be 
 lief that people could need money and yet be 
 silent about it. Had he been on the alert to 
 do good with his abundance, he could not have 
 entered as he did into the detail of this family 
 history, without knowing that there must be 
 need here. He took his leave in good humour, 
 buttoned up his fur-lined overcoat buttoned 
 it over the large pocket-book lined with money. 
 The thought never entered his mind, how much 
 good a single five-dollar bill, which would never 
 
THE OLD PLAID CLOAK. Hi 
 
 missed there, might do here ! So, he went 
 away, and the bill with him, to be spent with 
 three or four others, the next day, on some 
 extra trappings for very extra horse-blankets ! 
 
 As yet, not a word had been said to Henry 
 about all this twisting and turning with regard 
 to the cloak. The time came for him to leave 
 home ; and Emma now stowed away in the trunk 
 a box of cough medicines, instead of apple- 
 pies. Henry, when he went, made a great 
 show of wrapping himself up in the old plaid 
 cloak with the square cape. "Mother," said 
 he with a good-natured smile, " nobody needs a 
 better cloak to travel in ; it keeps me warm as 
 a toast." 
 
 There was a bright smile in his mother s 
 eye, which he noticed then. "My son," said 
 she, as she bade him good-by, "open your 
 trunk, will you, as soon as your fire is built, 
 and your room warm." 
 
 10* 
 
118 THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 THE BROADCLOTH CLOAK. 
 
 IT was night when the young student entered 
 his room, now cold, dark, and silent. It made 
 him homesick ; so he left it, and went to his 
 boarding-house. None of his friends had yet 
 made their appearance ; and, taking his tea 
 hastily, he returned. Soon a fire crackled in 
 his old Franklin stove ; the ruddy light capered 
 about on the brown walls, welcoming him with 
 twinkles, nods and grimaces. He rubbed his 
 hands, warmed himself, and began to feel a 
 little at home again, with the old stove. Soon 
 he was thinking of his mother ; he recalled her 
 parting looks and words ; indeed he had thought 
 of them with some curiosity, once or twice be 
 fore : " Open your trunk as soon as your room 
 is warm." " One of mother s good letters there 
 for me, I dare say ; I ll get it." He struck a 
 light, and opened his trunk. Just as he thought 
 
Henry strikes a light and opens his trunk.- p. 120. 
 
THE BROADCLOTH CLOAK. 121 
 
 there, on the top, lay a letter. He opened 
 it as he drew up to the fire ; and as he did so, 
 a note fell out, which he hastily picked up, and 
 wondering, read as follows : 
 
 My very dear Son : 
 
 Enclosed are twelve dollars, which we wish 
 you to take and buy that cloak. "We thought 
 you might never have another such chance, and 
 it was best to improve it. With a little good 
 contrivance, we have found the money ; indeed 
 it is wonderful how all our wants are provided 
 for. God never forsakes us ; I feel that I shall 
 live to see you wholly devoted to him. I have 
 no time to write more. Remember about the 
 cough ; do not go out without the cloak, until 
 spring is far advanced. 
 
 YOUR AFFECTIONATE MOTHER. 
 
 P. S. I steal a minute more. Be sure and 
 wear the cloak now, until an April sun shines ; 
 and don t fancy we have pinched ourselves to 
 spare this ; we have done it very well. Two 
 dollars are Emma s present ; she chose to wear 
 a dress which would save her this sum, and I 
 let her do it, because I knew it would make her 
 
122 THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 happy. God bless you, my son, and adopt 
 you into his family. You do not know how 
 much we pray for this. "Write to your father ; 
 he will want to know all about your getting 
 back. 
 
 MOTHEE. 
 
 Henry read this, and re-read it, and read it 
 yet again. He counted over the precious money. 
 Those dear twelve dollars, the price of so much 
 love and self-denial ! Then he put them care 
 fully away, and with compressed lips and glisten 
 ing eyes, strode back and forth in his room. 
 He realized as he never had before, at what 
 a cost his parents were trying to educate 
 their children ; how closely his father was cal 
 culating ; how often he denied himself comforts 
 which his arduous life seemed to require ; how 
 his patient, gentle, hopeful mother toiled on 
 cheerfully, year by year, without luxuries, and 
 often without the comforts which her delicate 
 health seemed to make necessary. 
 
 "And three boys to come after me," said he 
 aloud ; " where is to be the end ? This will 
 never do; this will never do." He could not 
 sleep much that night, notwithstanding his fa 
 tigue ; for new views of things had opened be- 
 
THE BROADCLOTH CLOAK. 
 
 123 
 
 fore him ; new ideas were crowding on his mind ; 
 and from the chaos, a new purpose was forming, 
 which was to strike its roots deep into his 
 heart. 
 
THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 THE LETTER HOME. 
 
 TOWARDS the close of Henry s term, an inci 
 dent occurred which, as it had an important in 
 fluence on his future life, must be related. He 
 was strolling up the college-walk, one day, with 
 several students, one of whom was Foster, a 
 Southern lad, of high mettle. Foster had been 
 dining at an oyster-saloon, and his dinner seemed 
 to have made him talkative and boisterous ; he 
 was noisy in his praises of some young girl. 
 
 " Pshaw ! Foster," said one, " I don t see any 
 thing handsome in her." 
 
 " That is just as much as you know about any 
 thing," was the reply. "I tell you she is a 
 
 fine girl. There isn t her equal, for foot 
 
 and hand, in the country." 
 
 " What do you think of her, Edwards ?" said 
 the first speaker. 
 
 " She will not begin to compare with my sis 
 ter Kate," said Henry, proudly. " Kate is the 
 handsomest girl I ever saw in ray life." 
 
THE LETTER HOME. 125 
 
 " Handsome sister Kate ! is she ?" lisped out 
 Foster insultingly. 
 
 " I was not speaking to you," replied Ed 
 wards, reddening a little. He had already had 
 some experience of Foster s insolence ; it was 
 from him had come the shafts at the old plaid 
 cloak, which rankled deepest. 
 
 " Oh, you warn t, wor you ? You are a smart 
 one. Talk about handsome Kates, will you, 
 when you haven t a decent coat to your back. 
 How much will you take for her ? Come, I ll 
 trade don t be hard on me now I ll give 
 pretty well." 
 
 As he proceeded with his taunting gibes, the 
 blood mounted rapidly to Henry s temples, his 
 eyes flashed fire, he drew his breath sharply and 
 quickly between closed teeth ; an instant more, 
 and Foster dropped, insensible, on the walk. 
 The hot blood fled rapidly from Henry s tem 
 ples, leaving him white as the snow, and he 
 stood motionless. "I have killed him!" was 
 the first thought. His friends crowded around 
 him, took him by the arm, and hurried him oif 
 to his room. 
 
 " Sit down to your books," said his room 
 mate hurriedly ; " no one will suspect you ; be 
 studying as if you knew nothing of it, if the 
 
126 THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 tutor comes in. Here, drink this water : wl % 
 you are white as a sheet. Keep still no *, 
 while I go out and see how it will turn out : I 
 don t believe he is hurt much." 
 
 When his room-mate reached the scene of tl 5 
 affray, he found Foster on his feet. He ha I 
 been stunned by the blow, but it had also so 
 bered him. Covered with mud, he sneaked off 
 amid peals of laughter. The blow, however, 
 was severe enough to make him ill ; a physician 
 was called in and he was bled. He carried the 
 marks about for some time after this. Henry 
 coMd not look at him without shuddering. It 
 seemed to him that it would have taken but a 
 little heavier blow to have killed Foster. Into 
 what a gulf of wo, then, a single moment of un 
 bridled passion would have plunged him ! He 
 would gladly have made an acknowledgment to 
 Foster he really felt grateful that the effects 
 of his violent passion were not fatal but Fos 
 ter gave him no chance to speak to him. 
 
 The college authorities felt called upon to re 
 primand young Edwards with severity, and to 
 order a representation of the case to be made 
 to his parents. This part of his punishment 
 Henry felt very much. He knew that his mother 
 would grieve over it. She could not make all 
 
THE LETTER HOME. 127 
 
 the allowances for him which his father would 
 make. He was depressed and unhappy. In 
 this state of mind, he was relieved and touched 
 by a letter which his classmates drew up among 
 themselves a letter to his parents, in which 
 they stated the matter just as it happened, with 
 all its provocations and alleviations. They did 
 not feel that Henry was much to be blamed, and 
 they spoke of him, as a classmate and a scholar, 
 in terms of unqualified praise. ^Gradually, 
 Henry recovered his wonted cheerfulness, but 
 the hour of solitude and thought which this ad 
 venture caused him, tended very much to mature 
 and strengthen some plans and purposes which 
 had already taken root. 
 
 This "letter home" brought the first sorrow 
 to the parsonage, and it was but the precursor 
 of heavier affliction. Death now entered the 
 family circle for the first time, and claimed the 
 little lamb of the flock. Poor little Jamie sick 
 ened and died very suddenly. Henry did not 
 hear of it until after the funeral ; it was not 
 thought best to inform him before, for the ex 
 penses of a journey home could not be borne. 
 Henry felt this affliction very much, perhaps 
 the more for his being alone ; and he began to 
 think more seriously about this double life of 
 
 11 
 
128 THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 ours, than he had ever yet done. We can learn 
 a few particulars about this, from the Journal. 
 
 JOURNAL. 
 
 For many weeks we have been a mourning 
 family. God has seen fit to remove from us our 
 youngest born. Our children were distressed 
 beyond measure ; the last parting was agonizing. 
 Poor Kate fainted quite away, when the coffin- 
 lid was closed. Whenever I have suffered my 
 self to think of the children s dying, it has been 
 with the feeling that Mr. Edwards would have 
 to sustain us all. But it did not prove so ; he 
 was entirely overcome, and I had to comfort 
 him ; but God did not forsake me. He put 
 comforting thoughts into my mind, and, I trust, 
 I felt peaceful in suffering what he willed. I 
 was also strengthened to watch over my little 
 sufferer to the last. "Mother take him," were 
 the last words he spoke. Precious one ! he was 
 then in my arms. His last look was on me. I 
 saw the light of life go out in those blue orbs, 
 and I gently closed the lids over them. They 
 will open no more on earthly scenes. Little 
 pilgrim ! Short and easy has thy journey been, 
 and now, I trust, thou art safe in thy heavenly- 
 home. I do not think that, in the experience 
 
THE LETTER HOME. 129 
 
 of my whole life, I have had such startling views 
 of the goodness and justice of God as I had 
 then. My soul seemed to rise with my child to 
 the gates of heaven. I had a near view of God 
 as he is so infinitely holy and lovely, that I 
 think with my whole heart I said, " Not my will, 
 but thine be done." 
 
 " All things work together for good to them 
 that love God." How much it takes to make 
 us cordially believe this ! We have abundant 
 reason to believe it, for we have every assurance 
 that this affliction has been sanctified to Henry. 
 He appears exceedingly well, humble, trustful, 
 and ardent. He hopes to unite with our little 
 church, in his next vacation. Kate also, dear 
 child, tremblingly expresses the hope that she 
 has "passed from death unto life." I have 
 hoped for a long time, that her heart was 
 changed. We feel safe in advising her to seek 
 admission to the church, with Henry. My heart 
 is full. Truly our " cup runneth over." " What 
 shall I render unto the Lord for all his benefits ?" 
 Three of our dear children, we hope, have en 
 tered the path to heaven ; one, we believe, sleeps 
 in Jesus. 
 
 Ever since Jamie s death, George has ap 
 peared thoughtful ; he has been very obedient 
 
130 THE SUNNY SIDE 
 
 and attentive and kind. Neither his father nor 
 I would be willing to have him leave home with 
 his present feelings, lest these serious impres 
 sions should be dissipated. I keep about my 
 work and try to have every thing go on with its 
 usual regularity, for I feel that this is best for 
 my family. I am grateful to God for the health 
 and tranquillity which enable me to do so. Yet 
 the stillness of the house is oppressive. We 
 miss our dear little boy s prattle. To-day I 
 have been putting away his toys and clothes 
 this is my last work for him ! 
 
THE SECOND WELCOME HOME. 131 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 THE SECOND WELCOME HOME. 
 
 THE young grass was showing its tender 
 green leaf; the crocus and daffodil were up in 
 the borders ; and the time of the singing of 
 birds had come. It was a mild day in spring 
 when Henry reached home. This time, there 
 was no noisy greeting, for the children all 
 thought of Jamie ; the girls smiled upon him 
 through tears; his father shook his hand in 
 silence ; his mother spoke calmly and sweetly 
 to him. This was his second welcome home. 
 He went into the sitting-room ; he looked into 
 that corner, where, ever since he could remem 
 ber, a cradle had stood there was no cradle 
 there now. He realized as he had never 
 before, the dear baby s death, and he burst 
 into tears. His mother let him weep, and 
 began at once to talk of Jamie, and related 
 many little particulars about his sickness 
 which they had not thought it best to write, 
 and gradually the children became more calm. 
 
 Then their father made a great effort to be 
 n 
 
132 THE SUNNY SIDE 
 
 cheerful ; he spoke with much feeling of thu 
 satisfactory evidences of piety which his 
 children gave, and he led their minds to the 
 contemplation of the Saviour s love in number 
 ing them among his chosen. Their young 
 hearts glowed with gratitude, and were soon 
 peaceful and at rest. They sat there all 
 close together with quiet smiles where tears 
 had been ; and gradually they spoke of other 
 things. Henry told them about his journey 
 home, and various other little matters, and 
 then tea was ready. After tea, Emma asked 
 about her box of medicines, and this led to 
 inquiries about the cough, which was now 
 quite gone, and also about the famous 
 cloak. 
 
 "I will get it and show it to you," said 
 Henry. He went into the entry alone, opened 
 his trunk, and taking out the cloak, swung one 
 side over his shoulder, velvet out, and walked 
 into the room with the air of a Spaniard. It 
 was very much admired. No one had imagined 
 it was so very becoming. 
 
 " So much real velvet !" said Kate. 
 
 "And such a beautiful tassel!" said Suzy. 
 
 " Just like the one I mean to have when T 
 goto college," said John. 
 
THE SECOND WELCOME HOME. 133 
 
 "Let us see you get it," replied Master 
 George, who was now parading about in it. 
 The subject of the cloak was long discussed, 
 and then Emma, turning it inside out, put it 
 carefully away. 
 
 After tea, Henry brought his trunk into the 
 kitchen. The opening of this, to the children, 
 was a great affair. They crowded around it, 
 an eager group. Some little present there was 
 for all odds and ends, such as a student, with* 
 out money, chances to pick up. A knife, or 
 pencil, or paper-folder, or a book-mark, which 
 had been given him ; candy and maple-sugar ; 
 and now a wooden horse, curiously carved, the 
 work of Henry s leisure minutes; this his 
 mother took and put away in the drawer with 
 Jamie s toys. There was a cup and ball too, 
 of Henry s manufacture quite a pretty one, 
 which was for Susan. After these, came the 
 summer clothing. George tried on every arti 
 cle, and Henry pronounced most of them a 
 " perfect fit." " Only examine them, mother," 
 said Emma; " they are of the very nicest mate 
 rials ; and see how much work is put into them ?" 
 
 "Yes, I see," said Mrs. Edwards, very 
 much pleased, " they must have cost a great 
 deal of money." 
 
134 THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 " I guess they did," said Henry. " Eliott 
 has so much money, he does not know what to 
 do with it." 
 
 "George will have every thing he needs, 
 and more, too," said Kate. 
 
 " That is just all you know ahout it, Kate," 
 said George ; " you don t know any more what 
 a man needs, than you know how to wear a 
 coat." 
 
 " You are not a man," said Suzy ; " you are 
 only George." 
 
 " Well, I shall be, if I live long enough, 
 I suppose ; sha n t I ?" 
 
 "At what time must George go, father?" 
 inquired Emma. 
 
 " Some time next week, I believe." 
 
 Next week! This was quite too soon. 
 Henry had but just come. Might not George 
 delay one week? 
 
 "No!" his father replied. "When the term 
 commences, I wish to have him present, that 
 he may begin fair and square." The boys 
 were all somewhat disappointed. 
 
 Several days after this, the children were 
 together on the back piazza, where the noon-sun 
 shone warm. John and Suzy mounted the 
 maple-logs, and gathered the honey which 
 
THE SECOND WELCOME HOME. 135 
 
 oozed from them. Kate cleared away the 
 dead leaves from her flower-borders. Emma 
 sat knitting by her brothers. 
 
 "Yes," said Henry, "I meant to study law. 
 I meant to be President some day, or some 
 great man or other; but my notions on this 
 point have changed." 
 
 "How changed?" asked George, quickly; 
 "you wouldn t be a minister, would you?" 
 
 " If I choose any profession, it will T>e that, 
 I think," said Henry ; "and yet I have not got 
 over my childish feeling, that it is hard work 
 and poor pay." 
 
 " The greatest drudgery in the world," said 
 George. 
 
 " No, no, not all that," said Henry. "A man 
 cannot help feeling that he is working for 
 something, when he is working for eternity. 
 The calling of a minister has altogether a new 
 interest to me now, and yet I find I cannot 
 get away from my old impressions about it. 
 My mother has had to work too hard." 
 
 " Then you mean, after all, to be a minister ?" 
 
 "No I do not think I shall." 
 
 " Well, I always said you were cut out for a 
 lawyer." 
 
 " I shall not be a lawyer." 
 
136 THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 " Well, do tell me ; what will you be ? One 
 doctor in a family is enough, and you know I 
 have set my heart on that." 
 
 "I shall not be a doctor." 
 
 " What in the world are you going through 
 college for, then?" 
 
 " Cannot tell, just yet." 
 
 " I shall be a minister, and have a pulpit, 
 and preach just like my father," said John. 
 
 "That is right," said George, "stick to 
 your text. You will have to give up maple- 
 honey, though, if you preach." 
 
 "That is right, Johnny," said Henry, "be 
 a minister. I will send you through. It would 
 be a great pity not to have one minister 
 among" he checked himself he had almost 
 said " among four boys." 
 
 "If I were a man," said Emma, " I think it 
 would be my highest ambition to be a minister." 
 
 " You must be a minister s wife," said Henry; 
 " that is next to it." 
 
 "I do not know about that." 
 
 "And what shall I be?" said Kate, lifting 
 up her beautiful face. 
 
 "Just what you are, I hope, for many a 
 year to come," said Henry. 
 
 6 Mother says I shall make an artist," said 
 
THE SECOND WELCOME HOME. 137 
 
 Suzy ; " and I shall paint beautiful pictures, 
 and get father some money to buy him a 
 house." 
 
 " Where is the money to come from to make 
 us any thing ?" said Henry. " It is a hard pull 
 now, just to feed and clothe us ; we ought, all 
 of us who are old enough, to be earning our 
 own bread." The children were saddened by 
 this suggestion ; conversation lagged, and they 
 soon separa^d. 
 
138 THE SUNNY SIDE 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 AN UNEXPECTED PKOPOSAL. 
 
 EARLY in the ensuing week, the boy who was to 
 take George s place, arrived at the parsonage 
 unexpectedly, and George was hurried off. On 
 the sabbath before, Henry and Kate had become 
 united with the church. George seemed much 
 impressed on this occasion, and in the evening 
 he conversed freely with his parents respecting 
 the state of his own mind. After this, tliey 
 seemed to feel less anxiety about him than they 
 had done. He was much missed, however, at 
 home, with his noise and pranks and fun. The 
 quiet invalid boy by no means made his place 
 good ; but an event soon happened which occa 
 sioned so much stir at the parsonage, that there 
 was no time to mourn his absence. 
 
 This event was the breaking of the axletree 
 of a Mrs. Brown s carriage ; in consequence of 
 which she was detained at Weston over night. 
 Now, the old tavern was a dull place to stop 
 at ; no books were to be found there, but alma- 
 
AN UNEXPECTED PROPOSAL. 139 
 
 nacs, and a well-thumbed copy of the "Mys 
 teries of Udolpho." Mrs. Brown remembered 
 having met Mrs. Edwards in Boston, many 
 years before, and she thought she would call 
 on her and renew their acquaintance. Mrs. 
 Edwards received her cordially, and treated 
 her with true hospitality. She urged her to 
 pass the night with them ; and as the tavern 
 was very uncomfortable, Mrs. Brown was easily 
 persuaded to do so. 
 
 She was an intelligent, observing woman, and 
 soon noticed the good order which prevailed at 
 the parsonage. She was particularly pleased 
 with the womanly Emma, and managed adroitly 
 to learn what her advantages had been, and 
 how far she had progressed in her studies. 
 Soon after Mrs. Brown s return, Mrs. Edwards 
 received a letter from her, in which, after 
 thanking her for her hospitality, she invited 
 Emma to come and spend a year with her and 
 study with her own daughters, for whom she 
 had provided the best tutors. "They lived," 
 she said, "quite retired, dressed plainly, and 
 Emma would need nothing different in the way 
 of dress from what she wore at home." 
 
 The children were elated by this proposal 
 they clapped their hands and shouted. " No- 
 
14v> THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 thing in the world could have happened better 
 for them;" they said, "it was indeed wonder 
 ful." 
 
 * Mother thinks," said Kate, "that we ought 
 not to say happen, exactly. I know that, by 
 her looks." 
 
 "You are right, Kate," said her mother, by 
 a smile. 
 
 Emma had been quite silent through this up 
 roar ; but her bright eyes and crimson cheeks 
 showed plainly enough how much she felt. 
 With her usual forethought, she was wondering 
 how her mother could get her ready. 
 "She must go," said Henry decidedly. 
 "Certainly," said her father; "we cannot 
 lose such a chance as this for her." 
 
 "Emma, dear, I can make over my black 
 silk dress for you, and that will be all you need 
 for a handsome one," said her mother. 
 
 "0 mother, I cannot take that," replied 
 Emma, with tears in her eyes; "it is the only 
 nice one you have in the world." 
 
 "Never mind that, my daughter; it is the 
 children first, now, you know. I do not need 
 it much here ; and besides, it is short-waisted 
 for me, and will about suit you. Perhaps, one 
 of these days, you may teach, and with the 
 
AN UNEXPECTED PROPOSAL. 141 
 
 first money you earn, which you do not need, 
 you may buy me a new one. This will make 
 it all square, won t it ?" 
 
 "And I," said Kate, dancing about, with her 
 blue eyes sparkling, "I have a beautiful plan, 
 mother : I have not marked a single one of my 
 new under-clothes, and Emma can take them 
 all, and I can wear out her old ones here at 
 home. Isn t that nice ?" 
 
 "Well done, Kate," said her father, laying 
 his hand affectionately over her sunny curls. 
 But Kate could not stand still long enough to 
 bs caressed ; she capered off for the clothing. 
 
 " I do not see that you will need any thing, 
 Emma, but a pair of new shoes and gloves," 
 said her mother. 
 
 "What shall I do about a bonnet?" said 
 Emma, rather gravely. 
 
 "I forgot that," said her mother. 
 
 "She may have my cap," said Johnny, eager 
 as any of them ; " she looked really pretty in 
 it, on horseback." 
 
 "I ll tell you I ll tell you," said Kate, and 
 in her haste, her words came tumbling over 
 each other, "mine mine it s almost new- 
 ribbon and all beautiful we ll change. 
 
 "Bring it, Kate," said her father. 
 
142 THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 She was off again, like the wind. "Here, 
 Emma, try it on : it just fits. Doesn t she look 
 well, father ? How well it is that it came my 
 turn to have the new one, this year it is so 
 becoming to Emma." 
 
 "But how do you look in her s?" asked 
 Henry. 
 
 "Like a beauty, don t I, Henry? See for 
 yourself." 
 
 She had innocently spoken the truth ; a face 
 beautiful indeed peeped out on Henry, from the 
 old straw bonnet the eyes beaming, the whole 
 countenance radiant with generous feeling, the 
 cherry lips half parted, the curls, which her fa 
 ther had tumbled, lying over her cheeks that 
 was Kate. 
 
 "You will do," said Henry, smiling; he was 
 very proud of her beauty. 
 
 "Don t you think I shall, Emma?" said 
 Kate, and she took off the bonnet, which had 
 been whitened, perhaps, twenty times. 
 
 "And you must carry my shawl," said her 
 mother; "so I do not see but you are quite 
 fixed out." 
 
 The white wedding-shawl, carefully pinned 
 up in a napkin, was brought out, and made 
 over to Enmia. 
 
UNEXPECTED PROPOSAL. 
 
 143 
 
 "Do not be afraid to wear it," said her mo 
 ther; "put it on always when you need to be 
 dressed." Thus were Emma s matters arranged. 
 Hope had fitted out one child, and love was 
 now fitting out another. 
 
 Henry was an interested spectator of the 
 whole scene. He saw how cheerfully sacrifices 
 were made : " And," thought he, "shall I make 
 none ? If I were off their hands, they would 
 not be obliged to strip themselves of their own 
 clothing, to get alone;." 
 
144 THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 THE WEDDING-FEE. 
 
 ABOUT dusk, one evening, the elder children, 
 with Mr. and Mrs. Edwards, were together in 
 the sitting-room. Mrs. Edwards had her knit 
 ting, and, as usual, her fingers were busy, while 
 her mind and heart were filled with thoughts 
 of home, and of her children, both present and 
 absent. George had been the theme of con 
 versation ; and, with many expressions of af 
 fectionate interest, his friends had been won 
 dering what he might be doing and saying at 
 that particular minute, and whether he was 
 thinking of them. 
 
 "I shall think of you at this hour, when I 
 am away," remarked Emma, "for I shall know 
 you are talking of me." 
 
 "Are you ready to go ?" inquired Henry. 
 
 "I believe so," was Emma s reply; a at least, 
 very nearly." 
 
 "There is a funny-looking gig," saia Kate, 
 
THE WEDDING-FEE. 145 
 
 who sat by the window. "Look, Henry, isn t 
 it coming here ?" 
 
 "No, yes," said Henry, slowly; "yes, it is. 
 There is a man in it and two women. White 
 frocks white veils ha ! a bridal party " 
 
 "Most probably," said Mr. Edwards, who 
 was also now looking out. " This is unusual. 
 I do not remember when we have had a wed 
 ding at the house." 
 
 "We have not had one anywhere for a long 
 time," remarked Mrs. Edwards. 
 
 "Father," said Kate, "may not Emma have 
 the fee to get the rest of her things with ? Say, 
 father, quick, before they knock." 
 
 "Supposing it should be ten dollars, Kate?" 
 
 "Oh! it will not be ten dollars, you know, 
 father ; so please say yes. There ! they have 
 knocked. I will go, Emma you said yes did 
 you not, father ?" 
 
 "No danger of a heavy fee there," remarked 
 Henry. Kate looked back, and stood still a 
 second more. Her father smiled, nodded a 
 reply to her pleading look, and she darted 
 away. 
 
 As she opened the outer door, the six-foot 
 bridegroom started, and it was no wonder. He 
 had never seen so beautiful a vision. Hitherto, 
 
146 THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 his eye had been completely filled with the 
 square, good-natured, pitted face of his bride- 
 elect, who stood now timidly behind him. Kate 
 looking up to him so smilingly, her blue eyes 
 shining like two little suns, her cheeks rosy as 
 an apple, her lips parted as if a blessing trem 
 bled on them, so completely bewildered hia 
 senses, that he could not at once state the 
 object of his call. 
 
 "Does Mr. Edwards live here ?" 
 
 "Yes," said Kate. 
 
 "Is he at home?" 
 
 "Yes," said Kate again. 
 
 " Well, then we ll go in." Kate led the v ay 
 into the best parlour. 
 
 "Take seats on the sofa, if you please," said 
 she. " I will open the shutters, and then call 
 father." 
 
 The man sat down, and a lady sat on each 
 side of him. Kate s eager fingers soon let in 
 all the daylight the room could hold. 
 
 Shall I take your bonnets?" said she, in 
 her winning tone. 
 
 "Well, I don t care if you do," said one, who 
 seemed to take the lead. Kate took the bon 
 nets, and one uncovered head showed a huge 
 white bow, pinned just over where the hair was 
 
THE WEDDIXG-FEE. 147 
 
 tightly tied. Kate concluded this belonged to 
 the bride ; she, therefore, placed a footstool at 
 her feet, as a mark of respect, and then po 
 litely withdrew to call the minister. 
 
 "What a picter she is, eh !" said the man to 
 the woman on his left. " Did you ever see any 
 thing like it ?" 
 
 "Sally," said the person addressed, turning 
 to the bride elect, "I would not stand that, if 
 I was you." 
 
 Sally lifted up her broad face, in about the 
 centre of which a pair of small gray eyes were 
 twinkling ; but she only laughed a reply she 
 seemed afraid to speak. 
 
 The minister and his family entered. Jane 
 was called also ; for a wedding at the parson 
 age was quite an event. 
 
 The man on the sofa rose. 
 
 "Mr. Edwards?" 
 
 "Yes, sir, that is my name. I am happy to 
 see you," said Mr. E. 
 
 " Called, sir, to see if I can get you to do a 
 little service for me. These papers, I suppose, 
 are all right?" As he said this, he held out, 
 in his huge hand, the certificate of his having 
 complied with the law in respect to public no 
 tice of his intended marriage. 
 
148 THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 " You wish to be married, I presume," said 
 Mr. Edwards. 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 Mrs. Edwards now stepped up, and in her 
 pleasant way, arranged the party, so that they 
 might feel a little more at their ease. The 
 young people fell back by the window, and the 
 ceremony commenced. 
 
 During the prayer, the groom stood with 
 arms akimbo, which gave him quite a desperate 
 air : his bride clung to him as if she did not 
 know what else to do, and looked with a very 
 solemn face at some innocent red roses on the 
 carpet at her feet. 
 
 Mr. Edwards s prayers at a wedding were 
 always singularly appropriate and beautiful. 
 His wife and children were particularly im 
 pressed by the one offered on this occasion ; it 
 had now been so long since they had been pre 
 sent at such a ceremony. Kate s excitement 
 was calmed, and Henry was sobered. 
 
 It was Mr. Edwards s custom to take the 
 hand of each party as he addressed them, and 
 then to join them himself. He had taken the 
 bride s hand, and was saying, "And you, Sally 
 Lunn, whose" when the hand was suddenly 
 snatched away from him by the bridesmaid, to 
 
THE WEDDING-FEE. 149 
 
 whom it had just occurred that it was her duty 
 to remove the glove. She began to pull away 
 at it with a very rude force ; but unfortunately 
 the glove was of cotton, and a very tight fit ; 
 so, putting it altogether, the getting it off was 
 a long process. 
 
 Mr. Edwards stood gravely waiting for an 
 opportunity to complete his unfinished sentence. 
 Kate looked at Emma, but Emma s eye was on 
 her father. She did not wish to look at Henry ; 
 indeed, she tried not to do so, during the whole 
 of that awkward pause ; but there was a fasci 
 nation in the fun, with which his eyes were 
 brimful, that irresistibly attracted her s to them, 
 and it proved fatal. Poor Kate laughed out, 
 and her laugh echoed through that still room. 
 The groom coloured, the bride grew still red 
 der, but Kate, alas ! was most deeply dyed 
 of all. 
 
 In this extremity, the glove yielded to the 
 fidgety pulls of the bridesmaid, and the cere 
 mony proceeded, and, though the minister 
 wisely refrained from any more hands-taking, 
 the twain were made one. 
 
 Mrs. Edwards and Emma then attempted, 
 by kind attentions, to relieve the bridal party 
 of the embarrassment which this awkward ad- 
 
150 THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 venture had occasioned, and they succeeded. 
 Perfect good-humour was restored, and they 
 had quite a pleasant chat before they made any 
 move to go. Kate had been watching them at 
 a distance, and her heart began to beat, as 
 she saw the groom approach the outer door, for 
 he had presented no fee. Was he going off 
 without doing so ? No ! but it was his very last 
 act before closing the door. Kate could scarcely 
 wait until they were out of hearing ; she then 
 sprang to her father. 
 
 "What is it, father ? What is it ? You have 
 promised it to Emma, you know." 
 
 "Not if it was ten dollars, Kate," said her 
 father, playfully holding the note quite out of 
 her reach. 
 
 " But I know it is not ten," said Kate, spring 
 ing to catch it. "What is it, father?" 
 
 Emma looked on the contest quite still, but 
 deeply interested. A very agile spring of little 
 Kate brought her fingers in contact with the 
 bank-note, and her father laughingly relin 
 quished it. She took it hastily to the window, 
 and her countenance instantly fell. " Only one 
 dollar!" said she. 
 
 Henry burst into a fit of laughter. "Fathei 
 
THE WEDDIXG-FEE. 151 
 
 he has not paid you as much as the law re 
 quires, has he?" 
 
 <-Xo," replied Mr. Edwards; "the law al 
 lows one dollar and a quarter, I think." 
 
 "Never mind, Emma," said her mother, 
 "this will just get you a pair of shoes." 
 
 "Oh, yes," said Emma, "and I do not know- 
 that I need any thing more, so I am quite con 
 tent." 
 
 But Kate could not get over it. "I would 
 not be married," said she, with an unusual de 
 gree of spirit, " if I could not pay a better fee 
 than that !" 
 
 "Perhaps, he did not pay because you 
 laughed at him, Kate," said Henry. 
 
 "Oh, I should not have laughed, but for 
 you," said Kate, truly. 
 
 "Probably," said Mrs. Edwards, "the man 
 is poor. He looked like a hard-labouring man, 
 and one dollar, I presume, seemed to him like 
 a very large sum. It is likely, too, that he 
 needs every penny he can raise to begin house 
 keeping with, and then can but just get along. 
 We will not be too hard upon him. I presume 
 they have had no cake. I was very sorry we 
 had none to offer them." 
 
 "I thought of it, too, mother," said Emma. 
 
 13 
 
152 
 
 THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 Kate was silent. She was thinking how in 
 stinctively her mother defended the absent, and 
 how readily she found excuses for everybody. 
 " Shall I ever be as good as my mother," 
 thought she with a sigh. "I do not wonder 
 every one loves her." 
 
THE SACRIFICE. 153 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 THE SACRIFICE. 
 
 FROM THE JOURNAL. 
 
 EMMA has left us. Mrs. Brown is a most 
 estimable woman ; may God reward her for 
 her kindness to our dear child. She is just 
 such a lady as I like to have Emma with ; she 
 will give her good counsel ; and a young Chris 
 tian needs guidance and sympathy. Mr. Ed 
 wards seems more cheerful than I have seen 
 him since Jamie s death. He is very much 
 pleased with this offer for Emma; so am I, but 
 I find I miss her very much indeed. I scarcely 
 appreciated before, how much she relieved me 
 from care. I am afraid I have not expressed 
 enough to her of the comfort and pleasure 
 which she has given me. 
 
 Mr. Dodge has been very ill, and Mr. Ed 
 wards was very attentive to him. Yesterday 
 he called, and I presume he felt grateful to his 
 minister and wished to show it in some way ; 
 so he handed him a five-dollar bank-note, ar d 
 
154 THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 asked him to buy himself something that he 
 needed. Mr. Edwards, I saw plainly enough, 
 would have preferred to decline it, but he 
 thought it would not answer. After Mr. Dodge 
 left, he threw it toward me. "There," said 
 he, "you had better take that for Emma. 
 
 "She really needs nothing," said I, "but 
 what the last wedding-fee bought, and I think 
 none of the children need it. Had not you 
 better put it by, and take the Review again ?" 
 I knew well how much this had been missed. 
 
 "What Review?" said Henry. "You have 
 not stopped the Review !" 
 
 " Read it all out," said his father, laughing. 
 
 I was afraid I had let the cat out of the 
 bag, and I tried to divert Henry s attention by 
 talking about other things, but he was on the 
 alert, and asked so many questions that he soon 
 found out the whole story. . 
 
 " It was by such a self-denial as this, then," 
 said he with a trembling voice, "^that you 
 bought my cloak." 
 
 " My dear son," said his father, "you make 
 quite too serious a matter of it. The Review 
 was really of less consequence to me than the 
 cloak to you; and even if it had not been, I 
 should have given it up in such a case. We 
 
THE SACRIFICE. 155 
 
 expect to pinch a little to get our boys through 
 college ; and then if you are prospered, you can 
 repay it at some future day. Dear me ! "We 
 may be rich yet, and I can have forty Reviews, 
 if I wish for them, and your mother here, may 
 keep her carriage who knows?" Henry did 
 not smile. I could see that he felt badly. I 
 cannot forgive myself for having been so care 
 less. It seems to me that of late he has been 
 very sensitive about being dependent upon us. 
 I have sometimes fancied even that he ate 
 sparingly when the other little ones were un 
 usually hungry. 
 
 One week later. It is all explained now. 
 Three days after this conversation about the 
 Review, we once more packed Harry off for 
 college. I observed that he was thoughtful, 
 and often I knew that he was making a great 
 effort to control himself. I supposed he missed 
 little Jamie, who used to be delighted with tho 
 packing. Once in particular, I remember, I 
 was folding something over his books. " Hen 
 ry," said I, " how learned you are going to be 
 when you get all these into your head." He 
 tried to reply, but seemed unable, choked, and 
 then burst into a loud laugh, which startled me. 
 
 o 
 13* 
 
156 THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 Now I understand it all. He started early, bid 
 ding us a cheerful adieu. " You will hear from 
 me very soon, mother," said he, and I fancied 
 then there was something significant in his look 
 and tone. In a week from this date, Mr. Ed 
 wards came home from the post-office almost 
 breathless, with an open letter in his hand. 
 Kate and I ran to meet him. In an instant 
 my heart had travelled around to gather up its 
 three absent ones. What evil had befallen 
 them? 
 
 " Nothing," said he, reading my alarm. " No 
 bad news ; all are well ; but Henry has left col 
 lege, and gone into a store in Boston." 
 
 "Left college! Gone into a store!" we 
 echoed in astonishment. "What do you mean ?" 
 
 " Just what I say I never was so surprised 
 in my life. Did you know any thing of his 
 plans, my dear?" 
 
 "Not one word do read." We stood rivet 
 ed to the spot where we were, while Mr. Ed 
 wards read the following letter. I copy it be 
 cause it is a precious one to me. 
 
 Boston, . 
 
 MY VERY DEAR PARENTS : 
 
 You are very much astonished, I know, by 
 
THE SACRIFICE. 157 
 
 getting a letter from me with this post-mark. 
 You have imagined me, for several days, snug 
 in my college-quarters ; instead of that, I am 
 in Boston. First, I will tell you how and where, 
 for you will be impatient to know. I am at 
 present in my uncle s family, paying nothing 
 per week for board. I am duly entered into 
 Mr. Magoun s wholesale dry-goods store, as as 
 sistant clerk, and for my services I am to re 
 ceive only think four hundred dollars a 
 year ! What do you say to this, father ? I 
 have as much salary as you, and am as rich a 
 man, all but the children. Now, dear mother, 
 you have the cream of the story, and I hope 
 you will read the rest of my letter, feeling 
 quite happy. I will now endeavour to explain 
 how all this came about. My plans for my 
 self, when I was a mere boy, as you know, were 
 to study law I set my heart on it. But what 
 is the use of setting one s heart on a course 
 which is not the best one ? It is of no use at 
 all, as I have found out. I entered college 
 thanks to father well fitted, and commenced 
 my course, full of ambitious plans. I studied 
 hard, sometimes late into the night, and what 
 ever reputation I gained as a scholar, was cer 
 tainly hard-earned. I fairly boned down to it, 
 
158 THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 and had the study of law still in my eye. I 
 felt that I must crowd much into little for I 
 sometimes burned with impatience to be earning 
 money, that I might share with you the burden 
 of educating the other children. I knew very 
 well that you and mother had a hard struggle 
 of it to keep your heads above water, with all 
 of us on your shoulders. I did not, however, 
 fully understand what hard work it was, until 
 the affair of the cloak came up. The evening 
 after I got back, and read mother s letter, it 
 came into my mind for the first time, that I had 
 no business to be going through college that 
 I was the oldes f , and it was my place to put a 
 shoulder to the wheel, and not be dragging on 
 you. After this thought, I never felt exactly 
 easy, though I could not at once relinquish all 
 my golden schemes. I went on struggling with 
 duty and inclination, until dear Jamie s death. 
 You know how this first affliction roused me to 
 new views of life and eternity. As I hope, my 
 heart was changed. The law gradually lost its 
 charm as a profession and I thought more and 
 more seriously about giving up a profession al 
 together. Even if I could work my way along 
 through college, without more aid from you, 
 still, at best, it would be many years before I 
 
THE SACRIFICE. 159 
 
 could render you any assistance about the other 
 boys. I should have to stand by, and see you 
 struggling on, through all the best years of 
 your life, having few comforts, no luxuries, and 
 never feeling in easy circumstances debts al 
 ways pressing money wanted faster than it could 
 come. This does not seem to me right. One 
 of us ought to take up the profession of money - 
 making, for the sake of the rest. Now, after 
 much deliberation and prayer, I have chosen it 
 it is my birth-right, and I hope, my dear 
 parents, you will not seek to change my pur 
 pose. I have counted the cost it seems to me 
 plainly to be my duty, and I have made my 
 final decision. I left college with the intention 
 of never returning ; and this decision was 
 strengthened every day I was at home. My 
 eyes were now opened, and I saw how closely 
 you had to live to get along at all, and saw also 
 how cheerfully sacrifices were made and I be 
 came impatient to be at work with the rest of 
 you. 
 
 God has seemed to smile on my undertaking. 
 Only hear of my success. As soon as I ar 
 rived in Boston, I sought out my mother s 
 uncle. I introduced myself to him, and then 
 frankly told him the whole of the story, from 
 
160 THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 beginning to end. He received me most kind 
 ly, sent his man off to the stage-office at once 
 for my baggage, gave me a pleasant little room, 
 and told me I should be his guest until he could 
 look around for me. He went that very morn 
 ing, and called upon Mr. Magoun, who is a 
 very wealthy business-man here, and told him, 
 (as I afterward learned,) the story. Mr. Ma 
 goun wished to see me, and I accordingly went 
 after dinner with my uncle, and was introduced 
 to him. Between ourselves, I fancy he was 
 pleased with me. He made me sit down, and 
 put question after question, until I had told all 
 over again how this had come about. I am 
 afraid I made a long story of it, for when I 
 begin to talk about home, I never know when 
 to stop. Yet he seemed much interested ; he 
 paced his parlour back and forth, and if I am 
 not mistaken, I saw tears in his eyes, when I 
 was telling how you had to get along. He 
 came and put his hand for an instant upon my 
 head, almost as if I had been his son, and said, 
 Young man, you have done well. I tell this 
 to please you, mother. lie said he knew my 
 father, he was in college with him, father 
 was senior when Mr. Magoun entered. He 
 thinks I look very much like father. Then he 
 
THE SACRIFICE. 161 
 
 offered me this situation, with four hwidred dol 
 lars a year ! I doubt whether there is a man 
 in Boston who feels as rich as I do ; I am sure 
 there is not one happier. Now, mother, Kate 
 and Suzy shall go to the very best schools in the 
 country ; but of that some other time. I am 
 to remain three months with my uncle, free of 
 expense ; and after that, Mr. Magoun has in 
 vited me to spend some time with him. He 
 gays he remembers having seen you here, one 
 May, mother, and that he was very much in 
 terested in you. What do you think of that? 
 No board-bills, you see, for several months so 
 tell the children to look out for a big box on the 
 top of the stage, one of these days. My dear 
 parents, do believe me when I tell you that I 
 am happier than I can express. God has 
 blessed me in my efforts to assist you. I wish 
 I could just run up to talk it all over, a letter 
 seems so formal ; but I am a business-man now, 
 and I must stick to my work. So good-by to 
 college-walls and musty-books. I am about a 
 better business. If God continues to prosper 
 me, you and the children shall want for nothing. 
 Don t grieve, mother, because the country has 
 lost such a fine president as I should have made, 
 for I shall yet be a Boston merchant ; and I 
 
162 THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 can tell you, this is an honourable calling, 
 some of them are princes in heart as well as 
 fortune ; and of course I mean to be one of the 
 best. Father is smiling at my " great talk," 
 but I am writing, excited by my extraordinary 
 success. 
 
 Now, mother, one word more, particularly to 
 comfort you, and my long letter shall come to 
 an end. I have become fully satisfied that the 
 constitutional weakness of my lungs would 
 never have admitted of my preaching. I 
 should have broken down in one year. I have 
 to be very careful, as it is. John must be the 
 preacher. It strikes twelve adieu. Write 
 me at once, and approve my course, that with 
 a light conscience and heavy purse, I may also 
 have a happy heart. 
 
 Your affectionate son, 
 
 HENRY. 
 
 I was entirely overcome by this letter. I 
 sank down into a chair and wept. Mr. Ed 
 wards paced the room, sometimes exclaiming, 
 " What a noble-hearted boy!" Kate and Su 
 san were excited ; they seemed to feel as if a 
 mine of wealth had been opened under their 
 feet ; they could not comprehend my tears. 
 
THE SACRIFICE. 163 
 
 " He is right about it," said his father at last. 
 " I was beginning to see, myself, that we could 
 not carry another boy through college until 
 Henry could help us ; but this is a great sacri 
 fice." I felt all this, and it has cost me a hard 
 struggle to reconcile myself to it. My convic 
 tion that he is right about the weakness of his 
 lungs, I think, has done more than any thing 
 else toward it. I begin to fear that I have 
 cherished some unhallowed ambition for my 
 first-born, which God sees fit to chasten in this 
 manner ; but now, I trust the struggle is over. 
 I cheerfully submit, and I love to thank God 
 for such generous impulses in my boy. I had 
 reached this state of mind before I wrote him, 
 so that my letter was a cheerful one. Dear 
 fellow ! he deserves all the comfort we can give 
 him by our cordial approval.* 
 
 * It is almost superfluous to remark, that to take such 
 a step as this, without the knowledge and approbation of 
 his parents, was not justifiable. Neither the impulsive 
 ness of generous feelings, nor the probability of a failure 
 of health, nor the successful issue of the measure, can 
 be urged with any propriety or force to excuse such a 
 disregard of parental counsel and authority. However 
 disinterested his conduct may have been, he certainly did 
 not " honour his father and his mother" in the true spirit 
 of the fifth commandment of the Decalogue. 
 14 
 
164 THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 Still later date. More news from Henry 
 full of comfort. Received to-day a letter from 
 his employer, which I copy. 
 
 To THE REV. HENRY EDWARDS : 
 
 My dear Sir: It is with much pleasure I 
 answer your inquiries regarding your son. His 
 deportment is unexceptionable. He minds his 
 business, is attentive, industrious, obliging, and 
 gentlemanly. I am perfectly satisfied with 
 him. He is a fellow of fine parts, and I hope 
 soon to be able to promote him. I have every 
 reason to believe that his moral and religious 
 influence in my store is of the best kind, and 
 is already felt. I congratulate you sincerely 
 on having such a son. He is one of whom any 
 father might be proud. 
 
 Yours respectfully. 
 
 Not " proud," I hope, but grateful and happy 
 in him, and indeed in all our dear children. 
 George is the only one whose misconduct ever 
 causes us anxiety. He is so impulsive and 
 headstrong, that he is often led into evil, which 
 causes me some sleepless nights. I believe that 
 he will yet be saved. I cannot feel that any 
 
THE SACRIFICE. 
 
 166 
 
 of iur number will finally be lost ; but at 
 present, the impressions produced on his 
 mind by Jami</s death seem to hare passed 
 away. 
 
166 THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 TROUBLE WITH GEORGE. 
 
 GEORGE had fallen with a wild set of boys, 
 who led him astray. He was often induced to 
 join them in a "frolic." To one of his tem 
 perament, the re-action from a life of restraint 
 under a parent s watchful eye, to his present 
 life of comparative freedom, was dangerous. 
 Liberty bewildered him, and he sometimes 
 joined the various frolicking clubs, just because 
 he enjoyed the consciousness of doing as he 
 pleased. At length he quite neglected his 
 studies, and after one or two warnings, his 
 teacher felt obliged to write to his father. Mr. 
 Edwards read the letter at the post-office, and 
 decided to say nothing about it until the next 
 morning, for he knew it would give George s 
 mother a wakeful night. 
 
 After breakfast the next day, when tjie plea 
 sant sunshine and the perfume of summer blos 
 soms stirred up cheerful thoughts, and seemed 
 to lighten troubles, he called her away from the 
 
TROUBLE WITH GEORGE. 
 
 children into the parlour, and told her how 
 George was behaving. His feelings were a 
 little irritated by the child s perverseness and 
 idleness. 
 
 "I have about concluded," said he, "to send 
 for him to come home at once ; for if he will 
 not study, he shall work. It would not be right 
 to take the bread from the other children, to 
 help along a boy who will do nothing to help 
 himself. 
 
 Very gently, and by quiet suggestions, Mrs. 
 Edwards calmed his feelings and modified his 
 plans. " Was not this George s first trial, and 
 his first fault ? Was it so very strange that a 
 boy of his temperament should revel in his 
 liberty awhile, and be carried away by the no 
 velty and excitement of his new life ? Must he 
 not learn, by experience, who were proper as 
 sociates, and who led him into evil, for w T hich 
 she knew his conscience gave him no peace? 
 Would it not be the best way to expostulate with 
 him kindly ; to show him his danger and his 
 errors, and give him a fair chance to repair 
 them ?" 
 
 "Yes, perhaps it was best," Mr. Edwards re 
 marked at last. " At any rate, he would defer 
 recalling him , until his mother had written, and 
 
 14* 
 
168 THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 would wait to see what effect that had upon 
 him." 
 
 During this day, Kate observed that her 
 mother was unusually serious ; and that several 
 times she left the room and quietly stole up 
 into the garret. There was a little unfinished 
 room there, with a "window which opened to 
 wards the sun-rising," and the name of that 
 chamber might well be called Peace. It was 
 there this mother retired daily to pray. It was 
 there she consecrated herself and her children 
 to God, and found such comfort in it ; there she 
 came with a troubled spirit, and found rest ; and 
 there was her mourning turned into joy. The 
 children seemed to feel a reverence for this 
 room they walked softly in it they never 
 played there. Nothing which she ever said to 
 them, made so deep an impression on their 
 young hearts, as the sound of her soft footsteps 
 thither, when she quietly left their pleasant cir 
 cle. It was there she now pleaded for the erring 
 one, as only mothers plead, that God would 
 preserve him from the evil influences which 
 were around him. From this chamber of Peace 
 she at length returned tranquil; her counte 
 nance expressed it ; her tones of voice expressed 
 it ; it was evident that she had been with God. 
 
TROUBLE WITH GEORGE. 169 
 
 After this, she wrote to George. There is no 
 copy of this letter, but something of its eifects 
 upon the boy is known. The very first page he 
 y/et with penitent tears ; and before reading 
 half the second page, he paused and resolved 
 to take the temperance pledge, as one grand 
 means of safety for the future a pledge which 
 he faithfully kept through his whole life. 
 Shortly after this, his father wrote him a full 
 account of Henry s course. This had a great 
 effect on George, and he made many strong re 
 solutions not to be behind him in his generous 
 devotion to the good of the family. 
 
 The children knew nothing of this trouble. 
 Emma continued well and happy. Mrs. Brown 
 wrote that she was making fine progress as a 
 scholar, and had endeared herself much to them ; 
 they did not know that they should ever be 
 willing to part with her : that she was already 
 forming plans to teach, for which she was 
 anxious to fit herself as soon as possible, that 
 she might help Kate and Susan. She came 
 home and made a short visit, once during the 
 year, and her friends found that Mrs. Brown 
 had not spoken too highly of her progress. She 
 had improved astonishingly, both in appearance 
 and manners. She was lady-like and polished, 
 
170 THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 conversed with ease and elegance ; but to little 
 Kate she seemed so very genteel, that she could 
 not immediately feel at home with her. How 
 ever, in a short time this wore off, and they were 
 on the old terms again. Mr. and Mrs. Edwards 
 enjoyed Emma s visit very much ; there was no 
 drawback upon their pleasure, for George was 
 now doing well, and Henry wrote often, and 
 always in fine spirits. In his last letter, he 
 said in a postscript, " Ask the girls on Wednes 
 day night, to be so good as to go to bed at sun 
 down, and dream of me. Johnny had better 
 sit up." 
 
 "What does Henry mean?" inquired the 
 children. 
 
 "Father looks roguish," said Kate. "He 
 knows something I can tell by his eye." 
 
 "Father, what is it? Tell us tell us." 
 They hung on him ; they took away his news 
 paper ; they would be answered. " Tell you 
 what?" 
 
 "Why, what Henry means." 
 
 " You do just as he says go to bed to dream, 
 and John and I will sit up until the stage 
 comes in." 
 
 " Now I know," said Kate. " It s the box 
 
TROUBLE WITH GEORGE. 
 
 171 
 
 the box ! I know ! It s Henry s box coming 
 on Wednesday." 
 
 The children capered about at this announce 
 ment, and nothing else but the box was talked 
 of, or thought of. 
 
172 THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIY. 
 
 HENRY S BOX. 
 
 ON Wednesday night, the look-out at the 
 back-garret was occupied early. The old 
 stage-coach, just at the proper time, came 
 lumbering along, with a big box on the top 
 of it. "That is it!" shouted the children, as 
 they raced down-stairs and out into the yard. 
 The stage-passengers looked smilingly out of 
 the window on the happy group, for even 
 father and mother were there, to welcome 
 Henry s box. One might have thought Henry 
 himself was concealed in it. 
 
 The stage-driver tumbled it off, and as John 
 thought, rather unceremoniously. " Look out, 
 there," said he, a you may break something." 
 
 "Hadn t you better carry it yourself, my 
 little man ?" said the driver. 
 
 It was soon in the kitchen and the cover off 
 but now so many faces were peeping in, father 
 could do nothing. 
 
 "Father," said Emma, "suppose we take 
 out in turn you first, then mother, and we 
 
HENRY S BOX. 173 
 
 children by ages, commencing with the young 
 est," 
 
 Mr. Edwards said, " Mother should draw 
 first," and this was agreed upon. A letter 
 fell to her, which was laid aside to be read 
 afterwards. Mr. Edwards brought out a bun 
 dle which was "For mother." It contained a 
 nice brown silk dress, with patterns for the 
 cutting. "The dear boy!" said she with a 
 trembling lip ; " he shouldn t have spent his 
 money so." Mr. Edwards took the silk, threw 
 it over her shoulders, and it fell in soft folds to 
 the floor. 
 
 " This is really very handsome," said he ; 
 " some lady must have chosen it for him. You 
 have not had such a dress since you were 
 married, my dear. 
 
 "I never had such a dress, Mr. Edwards," 
 replied she, with deep feeling. Emma drew a 
 package for herself, on which was written: 
 " From an anonymous friend for Emma." It 
 contained a handsome Carolina-plaid dress. 
 Kate drew one just like it for herself: " From 
 Henry." Suzy also brought out a French 
 calico dress for herself, which exactly suited 
 her taste. The girls admired these so long, 
 that John became quite impatient ; so he pro- 
 
174 THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 ceeded to investigate further, and found a blue 
 velvet cap, which would suit no head but his. 
 
 "We all have something but father," said 
 Kate. " We have not found the bottom yet, 
 Kate ; but here, what is this ? Here is another 
 box." All order was now at an end, and the 
 box was eagerly opened. There lay snugly in 
 it, two bonnets, one of drawn pink silk, on 
 which Henry had pinned a slip of paper with 
 this written : " For Kate, in place of the one 
 which she gave Emma." Kate immediately 
 put it on, and looked up at her father. Her 
 blue eyes were suffused her cheeks were 
 glowing and her soft hair hung negligently 
 in curls about her face. Her father felt that 
 she was very beautiful ; even Johnny felt it. 
 "Why, Kate," said he, "you look just like a 
 picture." 
 
 " Wouldn t you like it, Emma ?" said Kate ; 
 " I think it is a little prettier than the one 
 Mrs. Brown gave you, and I would just as soon 
 excnange as not." 
 
 Emma would not listen to this plan she 
 was rejoiced to see Kate look so pretty. 
 
 " Here is the other," said Suzy. " Whose is 
 this?" 
 
 " For mother. Wear it to please me Henry." 
 
HENRY S BOX. 175 
 
 This bonnet was of brown satin, matching in 
 shade the dress, and was trimmed on the out 
 side with a wee bit of a brown feather, and 
 on the ihside with delicate rose-coloured 
 ribbon. 
 
 "My dear child!" exclaimed his mother, 
 " how could he spend so much money on me. 
 I am sorry, for it would never do in the world 
 for me to wear such a hat as that." 
 
 " Why not, my dear ?" 
 
 "It is so dressy, Mr. Edwards." 
 
 "Do put it on, mother," said Emma. 
 
 " Had I not better get another cap first ?" 
 
 "No, mother; try it on just as you are," 
 said Kate. 
 
 She did so, and John clapped his hands. 
 "Why, mother, you look almost as well as 
 Kate. If you will wear that, I ll marry you 
 when I grow up." 
 
 John s offer raised a great laugh. " It takes 
 two to make such a bargain, master Johnny," 
 said Mr. Edwards, 
 
 " Mother," said rne girls, " you never looked 
 so well in any thing in all your life." 
 
 "It is really very handsome," remarked Mr. 
 Edwards ; " you must wear it, of course, for 
 Henry s sake." 
 
 15 
 
176 THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 "But the feather, Mr. Edwards." 
 
 "What is the matter with the feather? 
 There is but little of it, and it is a pretty, 
 modest colour, I am sure." 
 
 Mrs. Edwards smiled. " I think it would 
 not do to make any alterations in the bonnet," 
 said he, in reply to it, " since Henry has taken 
 so much pains with the selection. Ah ! here is 
 something for me. A number of the Review, 
 with a receipted bill; what has not the boy 
 thought of? I declare, here is another dress; 
 here, Jane, it is for you. No one is forgotten." 
 
 The box was turned upside down and shaken. 
 John hauled over all the wrapping-papers, and 
 was rewarded for his search by a package of 
 confectionary. 
 
 After this, the family went to the sitting- 
 room to talk the box over, and to read Henry s 
 letter, which was written, as usual, in fine 
 spirits. Here is part of it : 
 
 " Do not be anxious, father, about the money 
 which I have spent: it is much less than my 
 board would have cost. I assure you I am 
 very prudent with my salary, for I have a plan 
 in mind, which will require most of it; but 
 more of this by-and-by. I cannot tell you how 
 happy I have been in fitting out the box. I 
 
HENRY S BOX. 177 
 
 have been silly enough to lie awake in the 
 night thinking of it. I hope the presents will 
 suit all around. Do write to me every one of 
 you. A lady helped me in selecting the girls 
 rigging." 
 
 If Henry kept awake that night, wondering 
 what was said on the arrival of the box, he had 
 company enough at the parsonage. The ex 
 cited children made light sleepers, and the 
 gray dawn of morning found the mother wide 
 awake and thinking of the absent ones. 
 
 On Saturday, the question was discussed, 
 " whether, the next day being fair, the new 
 bonnets should be worn?" 
 
 As it was now generally known that Henry 
 had sent a box, Mr. Edwards thought it would 
 be better to satisfy the curiosity of the people 
 at once, and have the talk over; besides, on 
 putting the old bonnets by the new, they ap 
 peared quite too shabby to be worn. Mrs. 
 Edwards consented to this arrangement, though, 
 if it would have pleased her husband and 
 children equally well, she w^ould have liked to 
 take out the feather, lest she might "offend 
 some of the little ones." 
 
 As she expected, there was a stir in the Wes- 
 ton church the next morning, when the pastor 
 
178 THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 and his family entered. Such stylish bonnets 
 had seldom appeared there ; and never before 
 in the minister s pew. * 
 
 On Monday afternoon, the work being all 
 done, Mrs. Edwards sat down with her two 
 daughters, to sew. Suzy, who was reading by 
 the window, all at once dropped her book: 
 "Mother, here is Miss Cribby coming." 
 
 " Now, mother, you will have to take it," 
 Bald Kate, laughing. " Shall I not call father 
 to help you?" 
 
 Mrs. Edwards smiled, but gave Miss Cribby 
 a pleasant welcome as she entered. Miss 
 Cribby made herself at home talked awhile 
 about the weather the state of the church 
 who were at the prayer-meetings, and who 
 were not who were sick, and who were 
 going to be married. These fruitful topics ex 
 hausted, she entered upon the real object of 
 her visit. 
 
 " You have had a box from Henry, I hear ?" 
 
 "Yes," quietly replied Mrs. Edwards; "he 
 is doing very well in Boston, and has sent us a 
 very valuable box. Katy, dear, perhaps Miss 
 Cribby would like to see what he sent." 
 
 "Yes, mother, I will get the things," said 
 Kate, expressively treading on Emma s toes as 
 
HENRY S BOX. 179 
 
 she left. Emma coloured, and Suzy laughed 
 outright, at which imprudence she was much 
 frightened, and tried immediately to make 
 amends for it by looking very grave. 
 
 "I don t know what you will say to so many 
 fine things, Miss Cribby," said Kate, as she 
 came in laughing. " I look like a Yankee pedlar, 
 with my silks and satins, and ribbons and 
 feathers." 
 
 "I never!" said Miss Cribby; "why, what 
 a sight ! Well, I never saw any thing beat it. 
 Henry always was my boy. Now, if he would 
 only stick to college, what a preacher he would 
 make. Indeed, Mrs. Edwards ! how much do 
 you suppose he gave a yard for this silk ? It 
 must have cost a power of money ; I hope he 
 did not run in debt ?" 
 
 Susan was so much amused, that she tittered 
 out behind her book every now and then, and 
 Mrs. Edwards sent her out of the room on an 
 errand, for poor Kate was having a hard time 
 of it to keep her countenance. 
 
 "I declare, Mrs. Edwards," continued Miss 
 Cribby, "what children you have got! Some 
 folks have the luck a bringing em up, and you 
 are certainly one of that sort. I don t suppose 
 I ought to say luck; it s example, I know. 
 
180 THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 Them that live Christ, as well as preach him, 
 are blessed. There, Catherine Edwards, there 
 are them bonnets. How dashj they be!" 
 
 "Yes," said Mrs. Edwards, " they are almost 
 too dressy for us to wear, but Mr. Edwards 
 thought we ought to wear them, after all the 
 pains Henry had taken to get them." 
 
 " Henry is a good boy," replied Miss Cribby, 
 " but I do not know as he has quite judgment 
 enough to be trusted with such matters. For 
 a minister s wife, now, to wear a plume, is a 
 1 stumbling-block and rock of offence to some 
 folks. You must not mind me, Mrs. Edwards, 
 you know I am plain-spoken." 
 
 "I know you always mean well, Miss Cribby; 
 and, for myself, I should have much preferred 
 my bonnet without this feather, but as it is a 
 little thing, I yielded to the wishes of my 
 husband and children in the matter." 
 
 " Well, I don t know," replied Miss Cribby, 
 " I suppose you were right, and to tell the 
 truth," added she laughing, "you did look as 
 pretty as a pink in it," 
 
 This was the last that was heard of the brown 
 feather. 
 
THE RETROSPECT. 181 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 FROM THE JOURNAL. 
 
 WE are now alone not a child with us. 
 We are again mutually dependent upon our 
 selves for society, as in our early married life ; 
 we are still happy together^ but we miss the 
 children and often feel solitary. Jane seems 
 almost like a child, now. I am writing by an 
 open window in my little sitting-room. How 
 much I love Weston ! I love those distant hills 
 over which for so many years I have looked for 
 the sun-rising ; I love this dear old elm, and 
 watch its budding every spring with unwearied 
 delight, for under its shade is my baby s little 
 grave, and there by his side I wish to be laid. 
 I hope we shall never be called to leave Weston. 
 Sometimes I fear Weston will seek a young 
 minister, and the parsonage will be wanted, and 
 there will be a bride here again ; but I will not 
 trouble myself with these fancies longer. God 
 has always been our friend, and I know he will 
 
182 THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 not forsake us in our old age. I look back 
 over Mr. Edwards s life and labours here with 
 deep gratitude. Many souls have been given 
 him, as the "seal of his ministry," and Weston, 
 under his pastoral care, has become one of the 
 most thriving and moral villages in New Eng 
 land. A large proportion of the young whom 
 he has trained are professing Christians. With 
 these blessings, we have had no more trials than 
 have been for our best good. Deacon Jones, to 
 be sure, is Deacon Jones still, but he has grown 
 no worse ; indeed, in some respects, I think his 
 character has improved. Deacon Emery is 
 still one of our warmest friends. Infirmities 
 increase upon him, I see, but he bears up under 
 them cheerfully. He has, in one way and 
 another, helped us a great deal. He seemed to 
 know by instinct when we came to a pinch, and 
 would help us through, if he could. I love him 
 and his wife I love all our people I hope we 
 shall live and die among them. 
 
 I have not written very much in my journal 
 lately, and I see I have not recorded Mr. 
 Dodge s death. I think Mr. Edwards s influ 
 ence over him was blessed to his good, for, to 
 every one s astonishment, he left large lega 
 cies to the various benevolent societies, and also 
 
THE RETROSPECT. 183 
 
 a considerable sum to the Weston church. 
 Thinking of him recalls to my mind Miss 
 Cribby. She is still (as she ever has been, I 
 believe,) a good friend of ours, but it seems to 
 me she grows more and more odd, as she grows 
 older ; at the same time her piety becomes 
 more apparent. I think she seems to enjoy re 
 ligion more now than she has done at any pre 
 vious period of her life. I sometimes love to 
 think of her, as I hope to meet her in heaven, 
 when she shall have laid aside her ailing body. 
 Yes, I do love this people. 
 
 I do not think Mr. Edwards is as well satis 
 fied with his life s work here, as he ought to be. 
 He thinks he has not accomplished what he 
 hoped to do, and has fallen much below his 
 standard, and that one great reason was his 
 small salary, which cramped him so much dur 
 ing the early years of his ministry, when his 
 habits were forming. I do not know there 
 may be truth in this ; I cannot tell what, un 
 der other circumstances, he might have done. 
 I only know what he has done, and I thank 
 God that his labours here have been so abun 
 dantly blessed. 
 
 Henry is now doing finely, on a salary of a 
 thousand dollars a year. He gives himself, 
 
184 THE oUXNY SIDE. 
 
 heart and hand, to every good work is super 
 intendent of a Sunday-school, and active and 
 useful in Dr. B. s church. He has had Kate 
 in Boston at a fine school, for nearly two years. 
 She is improving rapidly, and Henry, I think, 
 is very choice of her. He writes me that she 
 attracts a great deal of attention, but seems 
 entirely unconscious of it, and is as simple and 
 childlike in her manners as ever. He throws 
 out a hint, now and then, about young Magoun 
 and Kate, which I do not quite understand. I 
 think Mr. Edwards and I shall accept Henry s 
 invitation, and go to Boston and look a little 
 into matters for ourselves. Deacon Emery 
 seconds this plan, and wishes us to take his 
 new carriage. We should enjoy such a trip, 
 very much, I do not doubt. 
 
 Emma is now first assistant in a private 
 school, where she receives an ample salary. I 
 almost feel as if I must send for her to come 
 home I really want to see her; we have been 
 separated most of the time for several years. 
 She loves us all as much as ever. Somehow, 
 our children, let them go where they will, never 
 get weaned from home. Emma s simple and 
 earnest piety has been the means, I hear, of 
 doing much good in the school where she 
 
THE RETROSPECT. 185 
 
 teaches. George has been supported through 
 college, wholly by Henry s generosity, and he 
 has graduated with honour. He is now at 
 tending medical lectures, still assisted by his 
 brother. He is, I believe, perfectly correct in 
 all his habits. I know he has strong temper 
 ance principles, but, alas ! dear boy, he is the 
 only one of our little flock who gives us no evi 
 dence of having been brought into the fold of 
 Christ. He has been a child of many prayers 
 and tears. God grant that I may live to see 
 him a devoted Christian ! It seems to me I 
 could then depart in peace. But I must leave 
 him in the hands of a covenant-keeping God. 
 I could die for him, but I cannot change his 
 heart. 
 
 Susan is with Mrs. Brown at present, who 
 would otherwise be left alone by the marriage 
 of her daughter. I relinquished Susan with a 
 sigh, for she was the last left to me. John is 
 away at school, doing well, and hoping to fit 
 himself for a preacher. By the time he is 
 ready to go to college, I trust George will be 
 able to take care of himself. How much I 
 write and think about my children! It is a 
 great comfort to me, now I am alone. I ought 
 not to say alone, either, for our people are very 
 
186 THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 kind to us. They seem like a large family. 
 There is a great deal to enjoy in the life of a 
 minister s wife. True, it has its peculiar cares 
 and trials, but it has its peculiar comforts also. 
 A heart loving to do good, finds an outlet at 
 every point, while, from a thousand little 
 streams, kindness and affection flow in. I 
 should feel lost without a "people." It is a 
 great thing to have the opportunity of making 
 so many friends in this world. A busy life 
 enough have I found the life of a pastor s wife, 
 but I can truly say that it has fully recom 
 pensed me. If I could feel that I had met its 
 claims to the best of my poor abilities, I shoulc 1 
 look back upon it with great satisfaction. 
 
THE REWARD. 1ST 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 THE REWARD. 
 
 \\ T E have dwelt so long on the early domestic 
 history of our worthy minister s family, that 
 we can touch but briefly on the important events 
 of later years. 
 
 To begin with Henry. In the course of time, 
 he was taken into partnership by the firm which 
 first employed him. He was prospered in his 
 business and became rich. Gold which fell into 
 his hands "went about doing good." He made 
 (as he promised to make) a noble-hearted, disin 
 terested man. In the early part of his busi 
 ness-career, he sometimes felt the sacrifice 
 which he had made of his literary tastes and 
 ambitious projects. He felt this keenly when 
 George graduated. As he listened to the hearty 
 applause which followed his brother s eloquent 
 oration, it cost him a struggle to keep down 
 vain regrets at his own course; but he con 
 quered these unhappy feelings manfully, and 
 with all his heart, and without a shadow of 
 envy, he grasped George warmly by the hand, 
 
 16 
 
188 THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 as lie came, elated, from the platform. " GocI 
 bless you, doctor, you ve done nobly," said he. 
 
 When he was rich, he bought the old parson 
 age and gave it to his parents. It was well 
 Mrs. Edwards had indulged in no anxious fears 
 as to what home should shelter them in their 
 old age for her children knew how much she 
 loved the old spot. Henry, in refitting it, took 
 great pains to make as little change as possible ; 
 paper and paint, as nearly like the old as could 
 be found, were chosen. Even his own little 
 bedroom he would not suffer to be painted ; for 
 he wished to keep it just as it used to be. 
 Thus there was a new parsonage but no bride 
 for it as yet ; it was still the home of the 
 minister and his wife. They seemed to be 
 gently going down life s hill-side by an easy 
 path with no clouds in the sky but the golden 
 clouds of twilight. 
 
 There was some change in the furniture of 
 the sitting-room which we came near forgetting. 
 Two very handsome, modern, stuffed chairs had 
 found their way there, one for each fireside 
 nook. This was Suzy s work. She had bought 
 them with the first money which she earned at 
 miniature-painting. She had great taste and 
 skill as an artist, and preferred to turn her ac- 
 
Painting a Miniature. p. 191 
 
THE REWARD. 191 
 
 complishment to some use. " Henry had quite 
 enough to do with his money," she said ; a he 
 ought to lay up something, and she would help 
 herself while she could." The result of this 
 commendable independence was rather too ro 
 mantic for a sober story, but as we profess to 
 give the history of this family, it will not do to 
 omit so important an item in the summing up. 
 A young lawyer persuaded her to paint his 
 miniature ; "for," he said, "he was very anx 
 ious to make a present of it to his mother on 
 her sixtieth birth-day." Susan never had 
 painted the miniatures of gentlemen, but he 
 was urgent, and brought his sister with him to 
 the young artist s room, and she at length con 
 sented. Impressions were left more indelible 
 than those on the ivory, and the result of this 
 double painting was the first marriage in the 
 family. 
 
 We must say a word about Kate ; our warm 
 hearted, joyous, beautiful Kate. Young Ma- 
 goun, as has been hinted, found out that she 
 was a jewel of rare worth, a prize for any man 
 and he won her, and was worthy of her. It 
 was delightful to see how she retained all her 
 innocent simplicity of character, when she 
 moved in the polished circles of affluence and 
 
192 THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 fashion. Henry deserved n. uch credit for this. 
 When she first began to go into society, he 
 watched over her with almost a mother s care. 
 He made himself her constant attendant in going 
 to and from the social gatherings, at which 
 on account of her personal attractions, her 
 presence was often sought. He encouraged her 
 to confide in him, and she learned to tell him, 
 artlessly, all the pretty speeches which were 
 made to her ; and he, with his manly good 
 sense, would tell her how little they were worth, 
 and would direct her attention to those whose 
 praises were valuable, and to the things which 
 were substantial in a woman s character. Thus 
 was she guarded against the dangers peculiar 
 to her lot, and she came at last to turn with 
 little difficulty from the unmeaning flatteries of 
 others, to seek his approval. 
 
 Kate s was the second marriage. From 
 being a child in the humble parsonage, she be 
 came mistress of a city mansion, and was none 
 the less admired, for having added to beauty 
 and worth, rank and wealth. She travelled in 
 foreign lands she mingled in choice society 
 everywhere her every want was supplied which 
 money could supply ; but she always continued 
 to be little Kate Edwards. She was not to be 
 
THE REWARD. 193 
 
 spoiled ; she never broke away from her early 
 training ; she was a sincere Christian, and to 
 her, as to her parents, heaven was an object of 
 faith and hope, a future home for which she 
 tried to live. With her sensitive conscience 
 and her pious heart, she rested beneath the 
 " shadow of His wing," to whom she had, in the 
 morning of her life, fled for refuge. Her hus 
 band also fully sympathized with her artless 
 piety, and thus, in their city home, was lived 
 over again the earnest, simple, practical reli 
 gion of the parsonage. 
 
 Kate often went to see her parents ; and Mr. 
 Magoun once laughingly told them, "That 
 nothing in Europe or America seemed to please 
 Kate quite so much as to ask her to ride over 
 to Weston." 
 
 Emma taught a few years in * * *, spending 
 her summers principally at home. Her cha 
 racter was symmetrically developed, and she 
 became, though not a brilliant, yet a very in 
 teresting woman. During one of these summer 
 visits, she received a call from Mr. Enfield, a 
 young clergyman. She had become acquainted 
 with him in * * * ; indeed, her acquaintance 
 had been of such a nature, that she at once di 
 vined the object of his call. Her conjecture 
 
 16* 
 
194 THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 was right, and he was successful. It was 
 therefore by no means difficult to persuade him 
 to remain at Weston over the Sabbath, and it 
 was but courteous, then, that he should be in 
 vited to preach ; and preaching well, it was not 
 at all singular that he should please the people ; 
 and they being pleased, were the more easily 
 reminded of Mr. Edwards s often repeated sug 
 gestion, that they should seek for a colleague to 
 share parochial burdens with their old pastor ; 
 and as Mr. Enfield had every reason to be 
 pleased with Weston, his acceptance of their in 
 vitation was only what might reasonably have 
 been expected. The society were now compa 
 ratively rich. A new parsonage had been built 
 when the old one was sold ; and the income of 
 Mr. Dodge s legacy, together with two hundred 
 a year which Henry paid annually to the church, 
 enabled them to support both ministers com 
 fortably. So Emma settled down among 
 them. 
 
 At first, Mrs. Edwards felt a little disap 
 pointed; she had secretly indulged the hope, 
 that John would some day succeed his father ; 
 but this feeling soon gave place to gratitude. 
 She found it a great comfort to have Emma 
 near her, and became much attached to her 
 
THE REWARD. 195 
 
 son-in-law. Then she found also, that John s 
 heart was elsewhere, for he had consecrated 
 himself to the work of foreign missions. His 
 parents would place no obstacle in his way, and 
 when the time came for him to go, they gave 
 him up without a murmur, and cheerfully bade 
 him farewell. Why should they not do so ? 
 They had long since given their children to 
 God. 
 
 George settled at "the West," and became 
 successful in his profession. He threw himself 
 on the "good side," in all public movements, 
 was a strong temperance-man, a warm advocate 
 for common schools, and a firm supporter of 
 evangelical religion. He seemed to be every 
 thing but a Christian. Once a year he made 
 it a point to send for his parents to come out 
 and visit him, and the journeys were very bene 
 ficial to them. 
 
 Henry (for we cannot end without a word 
 more about him) became a citizen of Boston. 
 Among his many private charities, one deserves 
 to be particularly noticed. He made friends in 
 various associations of ministers, and they kept 
 him informed of the wants of the most needy 
 of their number ; and many a country minister 
 received, year after year, the best quarterlies, 
 
196 THE SUNNY SIDE. 
 
 and other periodicals, and sometimes new and 
 valuable books, without ever knowing the soured 
 from which they came. 
 
 " Thus fell the blossoms of the almond-tree. 
 Our pastor and wife could look upon their chil 
 dren, and find them, with but one exception, at 
 the head of Christian families some wealthy, 
 all influential. " They were remarkably blessed," 
 say some ; but this is not so. God deals with 
 us with a more even hand than we are always 
 disposed to believe. The evil is largely tem 
 pered with the good ; and those who wholly 
 trust in Him, shall even here be "led into 
 green pastures." Many a minister s family, 
 who have as cheerfully met the toils and priva 
 tions of their humble lot, and as hopefully lived 
 for the future, as did this one, whose history 
 we have followed, have been not less "remark 
 ably" rewarded. 
 
 Age crept on kindly with our friends. The 
 hopeful and loving mother had long seemed 
 ripe for heaven, and calmly received her sum 
 mons. George was sent for to attend her in 
 her last illness. He watched over her day and 
 night, and she breathed her last in his arms 
 Her death was the means of bringing th s only 
 
THE REWARD. 197 
 
 wanderer into the Christian flock, and she died 
 full of faith that so it would be. 
 
 There were no dry eyes in Weston on the 
 day when the minister s wife was buried. The 
 people loved her with all their hearts, and 
 mourned for her as one mourneth for a mother. 
 They all came to follow her to her grave, which 
 had been made, at her request, beneath the 
 shadows of that elm-tree where lay her infant 
 Jamie. All her children were there, save the 
 one who was about his Master s work on the 
 plains of India, and for him many prayers were 
 offered that day. She died, but she lives still 
 in Weston. Her earnest life, her affectionate 
 heart, her winning ways, her simple piety, made 
 her a bright example, which to this day the 
 good strive to imitate. 
 
 Her mantle fell upon her now solitary com 
 panion. During the few remaining years of 
 his pilgrimage, he seemed to listen more to her 
 loving and hopeful voice, than when he had her 
 by his side. He learned, with her, to look 
 cheerfully and with a grateful heart, upon his 
 life s work. He ceased to mourn that he had 
 " done no more," and thanked God that he had 
 been permitted to do so much. At length 
 
198 
 
 THE SUXXY SIDE. 
 
 he also "rested from his labours," and, fol 
 lowed by a weeping train, he was borne to 
 his last home, beneath the shade of that elm- 
 tree. 
 
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 With an introductory notice, by the Rev. B. C. Cutler, D. D., Rector flj 
 
 St. Ann s Church, Brooklyn. 
 
 36 pp. 9 cts. 
 
 MY AWKWARD COUSIN; 
 
 OR, CAROLINE S VISIT TO HER GREAT-AUNT S POULTRY-YARD. 
 With fine Engravings. 108 pp. 18mo. 18 cts. 
 
 SARAH BELL AND FANNY BLAKE; 
 
 OR, A PLEASANT EXERCISE IN RHYME ON THE LETTERS OF THE ALPHABET. 
 
 With many Engravings. 
 
 MEMOIR OF JOHN LANG BICKERSTETH. 
 
 72 pp. 14 cts. 
 
 CARL, THE YOUNG EMIGRANT 
 
 234 pp. 12mo. 
 
 COTTAGE LECTURES; 
 
 OR, THE PILGRIM S PROGRESS PRACTICALLY EXPLAINED. 
 With eight Engravings. 456 pp. ISmo. 50 cts. 
 
 CHRISTIANA AND HER CHILDREN; 
 
 OR, IHE SECOND SERIES OF COTTAGE LECTURES ON PILGRIM S PROGRESi 
 
 Illustrated with nine beautiful Engravings. 
 372 pp. ISmo. 50 cts. 
 
 HOME LIFE. 
 With superior Engravings. 126 pp. 18mo. 20 cts. 
 
 "GIVE IT UP? NO, NEVER!" 
 
 f4 pp. ISmo. 8 cts. 
 
AMERICAN SUNDAY-SCHOOL UNION. 
 THE DRUIDS ; 
 
 OR, PICTURES OF BRITAIN AT THE TIME OP CHRIST. 
 
 With twelve Engravings. 118 pp. 18mo. 
 
 EVENINGS IN THE SOUTH OF FRANCE. 
 
 Translated from the French of MADAME GUIZOT. "With numerous and 
 beautiful Illustrations. 156 pp. 18mo. 28 cts. 
 
 FRANK NETHERTON ; 
 
 OR, THE TALISMAN. 
 
 With beautiful Engravings. 
 
 GRACE RAYMOND ; 
 
 OR, THE EVH AND CURE OF A PASSIONATE TEMPER. 
 
 Written for the American Sunday-school Union, by a deaf and dumb lady 
 104 pp. 18mo. 18 cts. in muslin 20 cts. 
 
 GREAT TRUTHS 
 
 IN SIMPLE WORDS FOR CHILDREN. 
 
 108 pp. 18mo. 18 cts. half bound in muslin 20 cts. 
 
 HUBERT LEE; 
 
 OR, HOW A CHILD MAT DO GOOD. 
 
 Embellished with lithographic Prints. 
 
 GRACE DERMOTT; 
 
 OR, HOW TO LIGHTEN HEAVY BURDENS. 
 
 198 pp. 18mo. 27 cts. half bound 30 cts. in muslin. 
 MARY ELLIS; 
 
 OR, THE SPIRIT OF BENEVOLENCE EXEMPLIFIED. 
 
 18mo. Muslin 20 cts. half bound 18 cts. 
 
 THE BAR OF IRON; 
 
 OR, THE DANGER OF UNSANCTIFIED AFFLICTION. 
 
 An exceedingly interesting Narrative. 68 pp. 14 cts. 
 
PUBLICATIONS OF THE 
 
 ELMSGROVE; 
 
 OR, SUNDAY-SCHOOL BOYS CONTRASTED. 
 
 With two fine Engravings. 84 pp. 18mo. 16 cts. 
 
 THE FUCHSIA; 
 
 & MEMOIR OF ELIZABETH E , BY HER SUNDAY-SCHOOL TEACHER. 
 
 With Engravings. 65 pp. 14 cts. 
 
 FANNY AND HEE MOTHER. 
 
 With eight beautiful Engravings. 234 pp. 16mo. square. 
 
 HUGH FISHER; 
 
 OR, HOME PRINCIPLES CARRIED OUT. 
 
 With Illustrative Cuts. 238 pp. 18mo. 
 ELIZABETH FRY; 
 
 THE CHRISTIAN PHILANTHROPIST. 
 
 With a beautiful steel Engraving. 
 
 A GIFT FOR MY SUNDAY SCHOLARS. 
 
 108 pp. 18 cts. in muslin 20 cts. 
 
 MARY GREY; 
 
 OR, THE FAITHFUL NjmSE. 
 
 With three Engravings. 174 pp. 18mo. 25 eta. 
 
 - 
 
 HOLIDAY HOURS IMPROVED 
 
 224 pp. 12mo. 50 cts. 
 
 HARRY AND WILLIE. 
 
 36 pp. 18mo. 9 cts. 
 
 INFLUENCE ; 
 
 OR, THE LITTLE SILK-WINDER. 
 
 With Engravings. 108 pp. 18mo. 18 cts. in muslin 23 da, 
 
AMERICAN SUNDAY-SCHOOL UNION. 
 
 THE HIVE AND ITS WONDERS. 
 
 126 pp. ISmo. 20 cts. in muslin 22 cts. 
 
 MEMOIR OF LITTLE JOSEPHINE. 
 
 With a Frontispiece. 72 pp. ISmo. 14 cts. in muslin 16 cts. 
 
 JANE AND WILLY S VISIT TO THE FARM. 
 
 With Engravings. 54 pp. ISmo. 12 cts. in muslin 12 cts. 
 
 LITTLE BILL AT THE PTJMP. 
 
 36 pp. 9 cts. 
 
 THE LITTLE QUEEN. 
 
 "With Frontispiece. 36 pp. 9 cts. 
 
 LOOK UP; 
 
 OR, GIRLS AM) FLOWERS. 
 
 With fine Engravings. 118 pp. 18mo. 20 cts. in muslin 22 cts. 
 
 LITTLE JIM, THE RAG MERCHANT. 
 
 A tale of truth and honesty. 52 pp. 12 cts. 
 
 LIFE IN THE WEST; 
 
 OR, THE MORETON FAMILY. 
 
 By the author of the "Village Boys." With several Engravings. 
 258 pp. 18mo. 34 cts. in muslin 37* cts. 
 
 LYNN S CREEK; 
 
 OR, TWO DAYS EXPERIENCE ix THE LIFE OP WILLIE GRAY. 
 68 pp. 18mo. 14 cts. half bound in muslin 16 cts. 
 
 THE LIFE OF LUTHER; 
 
 With special reference to its EARLIER PERIODS and the OPEMNO SCEJTEI 
 
 OF THE REFORMATION. By Barnas Sears, D. D. 528 pp. 12mo, $1. 
 
 468pp. ISmo, 50 cts. 8vo, muslin $1.25 library style $1.50. 
 
PUBLICATIONS OP THE 
 
 LITTLE KITTY BROWN AND HER BIBLE VERSES. 
 
 90 pp. 18mo. 18 cts. in muslin 20 cts. 
 
 LIGHT AND LOVE FOR THE NURSERY GROUP. 
 
 Beautifully Illustrated. 166 pp. 12mo In muslin 50 cts. 
 
 MARY CARROWS SCHOOL. 
 
 In three volumes, containing the history of three separate days. 
 64 pp. 12 cts. each. 
 
 FOURTH DAY IN MARY CARROWS SCHOOL. 
 
 With many Engravings. 87 pp. 16mo. 18 cts. 
 
 MODERN LONDON. 
 
 With several Engravings. 
 192 pp. 18irio. Paper covers 12 cts. bound 21 cts. 
 
 THE NEW SCHOLAR. 
 
 108 pp. 18 cts. in muslin 20 cts. 
 
 MORAL LESSONS. 
 
 Quarto, with ten large coloured pictorial Illustrations. 75 eta. 
 
 THE TWO SUFFERERS. 
 
 SKETCHED FROM LIFE. 
 
 134 pp. 21 cts. in muslin 24 cts. 
 
 THE VILLAGE BOYS; 
 
 OR, THE SIN OF PROFANENESS. 
 
 Embellished with superior Engravings. 
 144 pp. 18mo. 21 cts. in muslin 24 cts. 
 
 OLD JAMES, THE IRISH PEDLAR. 
 
 With seven beautiful Engravings. 
 d8 pp. 18mo. Paper covers 12 cts. half bound 18 cts. in muslin 20 da. 
 
AMERICAN SUNDAY-SCHOOL UNION. 7 
 
 MACDONALD ; 
 
 OR, THE GREAT MISTAKE. 
 
 62 pp. 12 cts. 
 
 LI&HT ON LITTLE GRAVES. 
 
 With beau tif ul Frontispiece from an original design. 
 144 pp. 21 cts. in muslin 24 cts. 
 
 THE NESTORIANS OF PERSIA: 
 
 A HISTORY OF THE ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF THAT PEOPLE, AND OF MIS 
 SIONARY LABOURS AMONG THEM, WITH AN ACCOUNT OF THE 
 NISTORIAN MASSACRES BY THE KOORDS. 
 
 Illustrated with numerous and superior Engravings. 
 174 pp. 18mo. 26 cts. in muslin 28 cts. 
 
 PARTING GIFT TO A CHRISTIAN FRIEND. 
 
 102 pp. ISmo. 18 cts. in muslin 20 cts. 
 
 DR. PLUMER S PLAIN AND SIMPLE ADDRESSES TO 
 CHILDREN. 
 
 126 pp. ISmo. 20 cts. in muslin 22 cts. 
 
 THE FOLLY OF PROCRASTINATION. 
 
 in original story, with an original Frontispiece. 54 pp. ISmo. 12 ct 
 
 LIFE AND CHARACTER OF THOMAS COOKE PAUL, 
 
 OF PETERSBURG, (VA.) 
 
 With a fine Steel Frontispiece. 230 pp. 30 cts. in muslin 33 eta. 
 ROSA S CHILDHOOD; 
 
 OB, THE IMPORTANCE OF PRINCIPLE AS AN ELEMENT OF CHARACTML 
 
 With Engravings. 108 pp. 18 cts. in muslin 20 eta. 
 
 ELLEN SINCLAIR; 
 
 OR, THE EARNEST INQUIRES. 
 
 12 pi . 12mo. 
 
PUBLICATIONS OF THE 
 
 MORAL HEROISM; 
 
 OR, THE TRIALS AND TRIUMPHS OP THE GREAT AND GOOD. 
 
 With Engravings. 344 pp. 45 cts. 
 
 THE ROBERTS FAMILY, 
 
 72 pp. Bound 14 cts ; in muslin 16 cts. 
 
 SUNDAY-SCHOOL ILLUSTRATIONS, 
 
 AN INCENTIVE TO ATTENDANCE ON THE SUNDAY-SCHOOL. 
 
 With several Engravings. 160 pp. 18mo. 23 cts. in muslin 26 da. 
 
 TRADES DESCRIBED AND IMPROVED, 
 
 With numerous Engravings. 180 pp. 25 cts. 
 
 SICKNESS IMPROVED. 
 
 With a beautiful emblematical Frontispiece. 
 154 pp. 18mo. 23 cts. in muslin 26 cts. 
 
 SUNDAY HOURS. 
 
 With a number of superior Engravings. 160 pp. 18mo. 23 ots. i* 
 muslin 26 cts. 
 
 SIMPLE BALLADS; 
 
 OR, A COLLECTION OP POPULAR POEMS, FROM VARIOUS SOURCES. 
 
 With a fine Steel Engraving. 188 pp. 12mo. 40 cts. 
 
 STORIES OF SCHOOL-BOYS, 
 With Engravings. 150 pp. 23 cts. in muslin 26 jta. 
 
 THE TURNING POINT. 
 
 A book for thinking Boys and Girls. 
 62pp. 12 cts. 
 
 LIFE OF SIR ISAAC NEWTON. 
 
 192 pp. 18mo. 21 cte. 
 
AMERICAN SUNDAY-SCHOOL UNION. 
 
 THE FRETFUL GIRL. 
 
 fhe title indicates the subject of the story, but no one can tell lo whoa 
 
 it applies, or what may be learned from it, without reading it. 
 
 86 pp. 16 cts.-r-in muslin 18 cte. 
 
 SUNNY SIDE; 
 
 OR, THE COUNTRY MINISTER S WIFE. 
 
 With original Engravings. 144 pp. 18mo. 25 eta. in mneiki 28 ft* 
 
 THE TALKING BIBLE 
 33 pp. ISmo. 9 cts. 
 
 HENRY WOOD; 
 
 OR, THE FIRST STEP IN THE DOWNWARD ROAD. 
 
 With two original Engravings, 
 144 pp. ISmo. 21 cts. in muslin 24 ote. 
 
 WHEN I WAS YOUNG; 
 
 OR, GIDEON AND HIS GRAND-CHILDREN. 
 
 With handsome Engravings. 
 162 pp. 18mo, 23 cts. in muslin 26 cte. 
 
 HARRY WILSON, THE NEWSBOY, 
 
 With three Engravings. 
 88 pp. lmo. 16 cts. in muslin 18 cts. 
 
 JOHN WESLEY; 
 
 THE CONVERTED AFRICAN BOY. 
 
 With ft fine Frontispiece. 90 pp. 16 cte. in muslin 18 ct 
 
10 PUBLICATIONS OF THE 
 
 THE VILLAGE AND FAMILY LIBRARY. 
 
 By a liberal arrangement with the London Religious Tract 
 Society, the American Sunday-School Union is enabled to fur 
 nish to the people of the United States, a very cheap series of 
 rery valuable books for POPULAR READING. 
 
 THE ARCTIC REGIONS; 
 
 THEIR SITUATION, APPEARANCE, CLIMATE, AXD ZOOLOGT. 
 
 192 pp. 18mo. 12 cts. in paper 21 cts. bound. 
 
 COMPARISON OF STRUCTURE IN ANIMALS THE 
 D AND THE ARM. 
 
 192 pp. 12 cte. in paper bound 21 cts. 
 
 LIFE OF ALFRED THE GREAT. 
 
 192 pp. 18mo. 12 cts. in paper bound 21 cts. 
 
 BABYLON AND THE BANKS OF THE EUPHRATES. 
 
 192 pp. 18mo. 12| cts. paper covers bound 21 cts. 
 
 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 
 
 192 pp. 18mo. 12 cts. paper covers half bound 21 cts. 
 
 THE CRUSADES. 
 
 192 pp. 18mo. 12| cts. paper covers half bound 21 cts. 
 
 THE COURT OF PERSIA, 
 
 VIEWED IN CONNECTION WITH SCRIPTURAL USAGES. 
 
 By John Kitto, D. D. 
 192 pp. 18mo. 12^ cts. paper covers half bound 21 eta. 
 
AMERICAN SUNDAY-SCHOOL UNION. 11 
 
 DAWN OF MODERN CIVILIZATION. 
 
 192 pp. 18mo. 12 cts. in paper bound 21 cts. 
 
 THE CAVES OB THE EARTH. 
 
 192 pp. 18mo. 12 cts. in paper bound 21 cts. 
 
 MINES AND MINING. 
 With Engravings. 192 pp. 18mo. 12 cts. paper covers bound 21 da 
 
 THE LIFE OF CYRUS. 
 
 192 pp. 18mo. 12i cts. in paper bound 21 cte. 
 
 THE LIFE OF CRANMER. 
 
 192 pp. 18mo. 12 cts in paper bound 21 cts. 
 
 ANCIENT EGYPT; 
 
 ITS MONUMENTS AND HISTOBY. 
 
 192 pp. 18mo. 12 cts. in paper bound 21 ete. 
 
 LIFE S LAST HOURS; 
 
 OR, THE FINAL TESTIMONY. 
 
 192 pp. 18mo. 12$ cts. paper covers in muslin 21 eta. 
 THE JESUITS. 
 
 AN HISTORICAL SKETCH. 
 
 192 pp. 18rao. 21 cts. 
 
 IONA. 
 
 By the Rev. W. Lindsay Alexander, D. D. 
 192 pp. 12J cts. paper covers bound 21 ctfl. 
 
 IDUMJEA. 
 
 WITH A SURVEY OP ARABIA AND THE ARABIANS. 
 
 192 pp. ISmo. 12i cts. in paper bound 21 cte. 
 
12 PUBLICATIONS OF THE 
 
 THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 192 pp. 18mo. 12 cts. in paper bound 21 eta. 
 
 GOOD HEALTH. * 
 
 192 pp. 12 cts. paper covers bound 21 cts. 
 
 LIFE OF MARTIN BOOS. 
 
 192 pp. 18mo. 12| cts. in paper bound 21 cts. 
 
 OTJR ENGLISH BIBLE. 
 
 192 pp. ISmo. 12 cts. in paper bound 21 cts. 
 
 ANCIENT JERUSALEM. 
 
 By Dr. Kitto. 
 192 pp. 18mo. 12 cts. in paper bound 21 cts. 
 
 MODERN JERUSALEM. 
 
 192 pp. 18mo. 12 cts. in paper bound 21 cts. 
 
 THE LIFE OF LUTHER. 
 
 192 pp. 18mo. 12 cts. in paper bound 21 cts. 
 
 THE ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF LANGUAQE, 
 
 192 pp. 18mo. 12 cts. in paper bound 21 cts. 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OF LEO X. 
 
 192 pp. ISmo. 12 cts. in paper bound 21 cts. 
 
 LIFE OF LAVATER. 
 
 192 pp. 18mo. 12^ cts. in paper bound 21 cts. 
 
 HISTORY OF PROTESTANTISM IN FRANCE TO REIGJ 
 OF CHARLES IX. 
 
 192 pp. 18mo. 12 cts. in paper bound 21 cts. 
 
AMERICAN SUNDAY-SCHOOL UNION. 13 
 
 THE LIFE OF MOHAMMED. 
 
 192 pp. ISmo. 12 cts. in paper bound 21 ctw. 
 
 NINEVEH AND THE TIGRIS. 
 
 192 pp. ISmo. 12i cts. in paper bound 21 eta. 
 
 THE NORTHERN WHALE FISHERY. 
 
 By Captain Scoresby, F. R. S. E. 
 192 pp. ISmo. 12 cts. in paper half bound 21 cte. 
 
 PROTESTANTISM IN FRANCE PART 2. 
 
 192 pp. ISmo. 12 cte. in paper bound 21 cts. 
 
 GEOGRAPHY OF PLANTS. 
 
 192 pp. ISmo. 12 cts. in paper bound 21 cts. 
 
 PLANTS AND TREES OF SCRIPTURE. 
 
 192 pp. ISmo. 12^ cts. in paper bound 21 eta. 
 
 THE LIFE OF LADY RUSSELL. 
 
 192 pp. ISmo. 12i cts. in paper bound 21 cts. 
 
 CHARACTERS, SCENES, AND INCIDENTS OF THE 
 REFORMATION. 
 
 FROM THE RISE OF THE CULDEES TO THE TIMES OF LUTHEB, 
 
 192 pp. 18mo. 12 cte. in paper bound 21 cte. 
 Part Second. 
 
 HlOJC THE TIMES OP LUTHEB TO THE CLOSE OP THE SIXTEENTH CENTTOY. 
 
 192 pp. ISmo. 12 cts. in paper bound 21 cts. 
 
 THE STARRY HEAVENS. 
 
 192 pp. ISmo. 12 cte. in paper bound 21 cts. 
 
 SCHOOLS OF ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 192 pp. 18mo. 12i cts. in paper bound 21 cte. 
 2 
 
14 PUBLICATIONS OF THE 
 
 LONDON IN THE MODERN TIME. 
 
 192 pp. ISmo. 12 cts. in paper bound 21 cts. 
 
 MAN IN HIS PHYSICAL, INTELLECTUAL, SOCIAL, AN1 
 MORAL RELATIONS. 
 
 By W. Newuham, Esq. 
 192 pp. 18mo. 12 cts. in paper bound 21 cts. 
 
 MAGIC. 
 
 MIRACLES AND REMARKABLE NATURAL PHENOMENA. 
 
 192 pp. 18mo. 12 cts. in paper bound 21 cts. 
 
 THE SOLAR SYSTEM PART 1. 
 
 By Thomas Dick, LL.D. 
 192 pp. ISmo. 12 cts. in paper bound 21 cts. 
 
 THE SENSES AND THE MIND. 
 
 192 pp. ISmo. 12 cts. in paper bound 21 cts. 
 
 THE TARTAR TRIBES. 
 
 192 pp. 18mo. 12 cts. in paper half bound 21 cts. 
 
 THE TELESCOPE AND THE MICROSCOPE. 
 
 With several Engravings. 
 122 pp. ISmo. 12 cts. in paper bound 21 etos. 
 
 SKETCHES OF THE WALDENSES. 
 
 192 pp. 18mo. 12 cts. in paper bound 21 cts. 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OF JOHN DE WICLIFFE. 
 
 192 pp. ISmo. 21 cts. 
 
AMERICAN SUNDAY-SCHOOL UNION. 
 
 Cearijers. 
 
 New Edition of the 
 BIBLICAL ANTIQUITIES. 
 
 With new Illustrations. 448 pp. 12mo. 75 cts. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON BIBLICAL ANTIQUITIES PABT 1. 
 
 By Eev. Edmund Neville, D. D. 
 Price, 6i cts. 
 
 UNION BIBLE DICTIONARY. 
 
 Close double columns, with 145 Engravings. 
 650 pp. 18mo. 45 cts. in sheep 55 cts. 
 
 THE TEACHER TAUGHT; 
 
 AN ETJMBLE ATTEMPT TO MAKE THE PATH OF THE SUNDAY-SCHOOL TEACHER 
 STRAIGHT AXD PLAIX. 
 
 Price, 30 cts. 
 
 ILLUSTRATED SKETCHES OF COUNTRIES AND PLACES 
 MENTIONED IN BIBLE HISTORY. 
 
 A complete Bible Geography, with a Map and a large number of Picto 
 rial Illustrations. 382 pp. ISmo. 50 cts. 
 
 NEW SERIES OF MONTHLY TRACTS. 
 
 Printed in very attractive and readable form, and neatly done up in printed 
 envelopes, each enclosing 25 copies. They are sold at five cents for a package, 
 r 20 pages for a cent. 
 
 1. The Voice of the New Year to 
 
 Sunday-school Teachers. 
 
 2. Come up Higher. 
 
 5. A Word to Teachers. 
 
 I. Cultivate a Small Field. 
 
 6. Intercourse of Sunday-school 
 
 Teachers. 
 
 6. Punctuality. 
 
 7. Sunday-school Discipline. 
 
 8. Symptoms of Weakness. 
 
 9. Well-meant Hints. 
 
 10. Lord, what wilt thou have me 
 
 do? 
 
 11. The Sunday-school Teacher s 
 
 Weapon. 
 
 12. It is Time to Begin, 
 
 13. The Evil and the Remedy. 
 
 14. Teachers Meetings. 
 
 15. How to make the most of a 
 
 Day. 
 
 16. Order. 
 
 17. The Teacher s Motive. 
 
 18. A Call to Consistency. 
 
 19. Cling to Christ A message t* 
 
 Sunday-school Teachers front 
 the bed of death. 
 
 20. The true Sunday-school Work. 
 
 21. " Without me ye can d- 
 
 nothing." 
 
 22. -.luitOnce!" 
 
 23. Hints by an Old Teacher. 
 
 24. The Retrospect of a Year. 
 
16 AMERICAN SUNDAY-SCHOOL UNION. 
 
 THE SUNDAY-SCHOOL JOURNAL 
 
 Is published on the first and third Wednesday of every month, at 21 
 3ents a year, in advance, or four copies for one dollar. Each uumtwc 
 contains eight quarto pages, close print. 
 
 YOUTH S PENNY GAZETTE, 
 
 Published every two weeks. As this paper is usually taken by schooll 
 or companies, the price is put at FIVE dollars for FORTY copies to one ad 
 dress, or HALF A CENT a paper. Single subscriptions 25 cents per year. 
 
 THE CHILD S COMPANION 
 
 Is published on the first day of every month, at 25 cents a year. 
 
 Subscriptions Received 
 
 At the Society s House, 146 Chestnut street, Philadelphia : 
 
 GEO. S. SCOFIELD. 
 At the Society s Agency, 147 Nassau street, New York : 
 
 J. C. MEEKS. 
 At the Society s Agency, No. 9 Cornhill, Boston: 
 
 H. HOTT. 
 At the Society s Agency, 103 Fourth street, Louisville, Ky. 
 
 W. H. BULKLEY. 
 
 Also, at the Bookstores of 
 
 E. H. PEASE & Co., Albany. C. T. CHIRRT, Rochester. 
 
 Rev. S. GUITEAU, 2 North st., Bait. GEO. L. WEED, Cincinnati 
 
 A. W. COEET, St. Louis, Mo. 
 
 NOTICE TO SUPERINTENDENTS, LIBRARIANS, 
 TEACHERS, &c. 
 
 Just published, a new and complete Catalogue of the books and othet 
 publications of the American Sunday-school Union, to which is added a* 
 alphabetical list of the library books. Copies of the above will be fup. 
 nished without charge to applicants, at any of the depositories of thv 
 Society, or forwarded by mail when requested.