. , 
 
 
 m 
 
 mam
 
 From an Act prexcriliny Rule* for the Government of the State Library. 
 passed March 8th, 1861. 
 
 SKCTIOX 11. The Librarian shall cause to be kept a register of all 
 books issued and returned : and all books taken by the members of the 
 Legislature, or its officers, shall be returned at the clo.^e of the session. If 
 any person injure or fail to return any book taken from the Library, he 
 shall forfeit and pay to the Librarian, for the benefit of the Library, three 
 times the value thereof : and before the Controller shall issue his warrant 
 in favor of any member or officer of the Legislature, or of this State, for 
 his per diem, allowance, or salary, he shall be satisfied that such member 
 or officer has returned all books taken out of the Library by him, and has 
 settled all accounts for injuring such books or otherwise. 
 
 SEC. 15. Books may be taken from the Library by the members of the 
 Legislature and its officers during the session of the same, and at any time 
 by the Governor and the officers of the Executive Department of this State 
 who are required to keep their offices at the seat of government, the 
 Justices of the Supreme Court, the Attorney-General, and the Trustees of 
 the Librarv.
 
 THE BROWNINGS.
 
 THE ATTACK OX ROSE COTTAGE.
 
 THE BROWNINGS. 
 
 A TALE OF THE 
 
 \ 
 
 GREAT REBELLION^ 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 
 M. W. DODD, No. 506 BROADWAY.
 
 TH E BROWNINGS: 
 
 A TALE OF THE 
 
 GREAT REBELLION. 
 
 BY 
 
 J. G. FULLER, 
 
 AUTHOR OF "THE GRAHAMS," ETC. 
 
 NEW YORK; 
 
 M. W. DODD, 506 BROADWAY, 
 1867.
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1867, by 
 M. W. DODD, 
 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the 
 Southern District of New York. 
 
 THE NEW YORK PRINTING COMPANY, 
 
 81, 83, and 83 Centre Street, 
 
 NEW YORK.
 
 THE BROWNINGS 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 I WISH you a " merry Christmas," and will 
 tell you a story. 
 
 You must not think, my young readers, that 
 it is cold everywhere at Christmas, and that 
 children are obliged to go out muffled and fur- 
 red as they do here. In our own country there 
 are many places where the sun shines warmly, 
 and the flowers blossom all the year round. 
 While the happy children of the North have 
 merry sleigh-rides and go skating on the frozen 
 ponds and rivers, the little ones of the sunny 
 South pick oranges and pomegranates, or twine
 
 10 THE BROWNINGS. 
 
 garlands of roses for the "merry Christmas" 
 days. 
 
 If you have studied geography, you will re- 
 collect that the St. Mary's river forms a part 
 of the boundary line between the States of 
 Georgia and Florida. On the banks of this 
 river, only a few miles from its entrance into 
 the Atlantic Ocean, there stood not long ago a 
 pretty rustic cottage, covered all over with 
 scarlet woodbine and white Cherokee roses. 
 It was not a solid, substantial-looking building, 
 such as you see everywhere at the North, built 
 for protection against frost and storm ; it looked 
 more like a summer-house or arbor built for 
 ornament rather than use. It was a sum- 
 mer-house, and its doors and windows were 
 seldom closed ; for although the children of 
 the St. Mary's count December, January, and 
 February in the months of the year, they sel- 
 dom see there either frost or snow. 
 
 On Christmas morning, 18(51, a little white 
 girl dressed in black, and a large black girl 
 dressed in white, were sitting together on the
 
 THE BROWNINGS. 11 
 
 piazza, of the cottage. They had a basket of 
 flowers before them, and the large one was try- 
 ing her skill at making a wreath. The little 
 girl's name was Lucy Browning, but her 
 friends all called her Lulu. The colored girl 
 was her nurse Teenah. Teenah looked as 
 black as ebony in her white dress, while little 
 Lulu in her black one looked pale as a snowdrop. 
 It had not been a " merry Christmas" morn- 
 ing at the cottage, for many reasons. Lulu 
 comprehended but one. Since the last Christ- 
 mas her beautiful mother had gone away from 
 them to dwell with the angels. She did not 
 quite comprehend that, even ; only that her 
 mother was gone from the cottage and 
 was laid under the green oaks at the end of 
 the lawn, where little Lulu went every even- 
 ing to say "Our Father," and sing the even- 
 ing hymn her mother taught her. Only the 
 Christmas before, she had sung her a sweet 
 little carol and tied her a garland of rose-buds ; 
 and when her father went out that morning 
 with his dog and gun, he raised her in his
 
 12 THE BROWNINGS. 
 
 arms, Dressed her to his heart, and said : " Go, 
 Lula, and sing to darling mamma to-day ! 
 Sing the Christ-child and carry roses." Then 
 he kissed her and pressed her to his heart again. 
 
 Lulu followed him to the river bank, watch- 
 ed him while he untied the little skiff at the 
 landing, saw him jump in with old Zack the 
 hunter, then threw kisses after him all the way 
 across the river to Florida. 
 
 "There, he has got there now, Teenah! 
 Don't you see ? Make haste, and let us go and 
 cut sweet roses for mamma." 
 
 While Lulu and her nurse are in the garden, 
 we will look around and see what we can dis- 
 cover. 
 
 Groups of oleanders taller than the cottage 
 are all in bloom on one side ; on the other is 
 an orangery, every tree hanging with ripe 
 fruit and budding with snowy flowers. 
 Behind the house is a little cluster of cabins ; 
 before one of these, an old grey-haired negro 
 sits in the sun playing the violin : but there 
 are no dancers, as usual on Christmas morning.
 
 THE BROWNINGS. 13 
 
 The cabins are deserted. If you watch the 
 old man closely you will see him now and 
 then take a corner of his bright bandanna and 
 wipe his eyes. He is weeping, not for himself, 
 but for his dear young master. One of the 
 strings of his instrument snapped at last under 
 his heavy stroke. " 'Pears like 'tis another of 
 poor Mar's Alfred's heartstrings," he said softly ; 
 " hunted like a wild beast by the wicked 
 Seceshers. Nothin' for ole Dick any more 
 but to watch and wait ! " and his tears grew 
 to sobs. 
 
 An old woman with a pipe in her mouth 
 and a gay head-dress came out of the cabin. 
 
 " Dis yer won't do nohow, ole man," she 
 said almost sternly. " It neber '11 do ! Don't 
 you see how I bears up ? Go to the patch ober 
 dar, now, and bring some yams and some 
 cabbage and turnips; de Christmas-turkey is 
 on the spit, and Miss Lulu's pie is baking full 
 of plums. I tell you, ole man, 'twon't do fur 
 to be idle. No more holidays for de like ob us 
 till we git de long freedom. When Mar's
 
 THE BR WNINGS. 
 
 Alfred said de udder day, ' Aunt Chrissy, you 
 can go if you like ; de way is open now,' I 
 tole him we is ole people, you and I, and will 
 wait for de hebenly gates to open. But 'tis 
 time you is up and gwine now, ole man I We 
 will hab de dinner all ready when young 
 Massa comes." 
 
 Uncle Dick got up slowly and walked away 
 in the direction of the field. In the garden he 
 met little Lulu and Teenah returning to the 
 cottage with their flowers, and waited to give 
 them a Christmas blessing. 
 
 Only two short years before, and Rose Cot- 
 tage was one of the happiest homes in the 
 South ; I did not say the wealthiest, for in the 
 rich Gulf States there were many richer men 
 than Alfred Browning, Lulu's father. Only 
 a little further down the river was a planter 
 thrice as rich as he, and it was at this same 
 planter's he made the acquaintance of the fair 
 stranger who afterwards became his wife. It 
 proved a happy union for both, though exist- 
 ing but five years.
 
 THE BROWNINGS. 15 
 
 Little Lulu's mother was a native of New 
 Hampshire. Her father had died of consump- 
 tion before she was fifteen. She had one bro- 
 ther older than herself in college at the time 
 of her father's death. Her mother was left in 
 moderate circumstances; but understanding 
 her husband's wishes in regard to the educa- 
 tion of her children, she determined to exe- 
 cute them faithfully. John was sent back to 
 college, and Ellen to a neighboring seminary, 
 while their mother toiled early and late 
 for their support. In spite of her best 
 efforts, however, debts accumulated, and the 
 pretty homestead was mortgaged for half its 
 value. 
 
 " It will be better by and by," the mother 
 said hopefully. "John will have his pro- 
 fession, and Ellen can teach school ; then I 
 shall lay up something, instead of falling back. 
 It is of no use to trouble them about it now." 
 
 It was their last year at school, and the 
 widow calculated rightly in regard to future 
 expenses; but wrongly when estimating her
 
 16 THE BROWNINGS 
 
 daughter's strength to endure the wear and 
 tear of a teacher's life. The first quarter's 
 trial was robbing her cheeks of their bloom 
 and developing the seeds of latent disease, 
 when an accident changed the sphere of her 
 labors. 
 
 One summer afternoon, the village innkeep- 
 er called upon Mrs. Hunter to ask a favor for 
 a stranger. A lady on her way to the moun- 
 tains had met with an accident which might 
 detain her for several days in the village. His 
 house was crowded and noisy ; the lady needed 
 quiet and repose. Would she entertain her 
 and her daughter until the arrival of her hus- 
 band from Washington ? 
 
 Mrs. Hunter had no objection to offer, and 
 the same evening found the strangers comfort- 
 ably located in her pleasant home. A warm 
 attachment was the result ; and before the ar- 
 rival of her husband, Mrs. Mclntosh was 
 urging Mrs. Hunter to allow her daughter 
 to return with them to Georgia in the au- 
 tumn.
 
 
 THE BROWNINGS. 17 
 
 " We cannot afford it," the mother replied, 
 with simple frankness. " I have no doubt the 
 change might benefit her as you say, and I 
 would gladly yield my own wishes for her 
 good ; but at present it is not to be thought 
 of." 
 
 " We will defray all her expenses," the lady 
 persisted. 
 
 " I could not accept your invitation on 
 those terms," interposed Ellen. " Independence 
 is more necessary to me than either health or 
 pleasure." 
 
 " Why wouldn't Miss Ellen go and be our 
 teacher?" Ally Mclntosh asked, on another 
 occasion. " It wouldn't be so hard for her as 
 her school here, and we want her so much." 
 
 No one replied; but when Mr. Mclntosh 
 came, the subject was resumed. In speaking 
 of her school one day, he inquired the number 
 of her pupils and her salary. 
 
 "Twenty-five pupils, and thirty dollars a 
 month," was the reply. 
 " I will give you fifty dollars a month for
 
 18 THE BROWNINGS. 
 
 three pupils," he returned. "My wife and 
 Ally will not be persuaded to go home with- 
 out you. Think of it until our return from 
 the Notch, and then give us your deci- 
 sion." 
 
 " I will give it now, sir," she said, pleasantly. 
 "If my mother consents, I should be very 
 happy to accept your offer." 
 
 Mrs. Hunter offered no objection, and two 
 months later Ellen Hunter accompanied her 
 new friends South. That was the way Lulu's 
 mother first went to the St. Mary's. Alfred 
 Browning was a nephew of the gentleman, and 
 found his uncle's house more agreeable than 
 ever after the advent of the Northern teacher, 
 who was treated in every respect like a daugh- 
 ter of the house. 
 
 Two years afterwards, Ellen went back to 
 New Hampshire with a sum of money suffi- 
 cient to pay up what remained of the old mort- 
 gage, her mother and brother having already 
 reduced it to a third of its original 'amount ; 
 and that same autumn, a gay Southern party'
 
 THE BROWNINGS. 
 
 19 
 
 came to take her again to Georgia not to 
 Mclntosh Grove, but to Eose Cottage, her 
 future home.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THERE are sonie natures that seem formed 
 to awaken love wherever they go. Ellen 
 Browning's was such a one. Far away amid 
 the hills where her happy childhood was passed, 
 she was the pet and pride of her native village. 
 On the banks of the St. Mary's, surrounded 
 with strangers, strange customs and institutions, 
 she was soon beloved by the lofty and lowly 
 who shared her acquaintance ; and never was 
 bride more warmly welcomed than she was to 
 Rose Cottage plantation. Men who made it a 
 point to dislike New England, and delighted to 
 express their sentiments on every occasion, 
 forgot their prejudices in the presence of Ellen 
 Browning, and congratulated her husband on 
 the worth of his prize. 
 
 No home in all the region was so well regu-
 
 THE BROWNINGS. 21 
 
 lated as theirs. Not a dusky finger-mark re- 
 mained on its walls. All the freshness and 
 neatness of a Northern home seemed united to 
 the bloom and sunshine of the South. The 
 bride's own hands looped back the snowy 
 muslin and disposed the simple furniture of 
 her apartments, hung the pictures on the walls, 
 grouped the flowers in the vases, and the most 
 fastidious could detect no want of harmony. 
 Visitors surprised her at her morning tasks, 
 and she received them without apology, just as 
 she sang and played to them without affecta- 
 tion or vanity. 
 
 Of all her dusky house-maids, not one could 
 catch the secret of their young mistress's ways 
 except the child Teenah, whose instinctive love 
 of beauty and order seemed the very counter- 
 part of her own. Shf^was a little thing, 
 scarcely eight years olc^, and clung to Mrs. 
 Browning like her shadow. It was not long 
 before she surprised her with bouquets of fault- 
 less structure, and often in the morning her 
 self-imposed tasks were anticipated and per-
 
 22 THE BROWNINGS. 
 
 formed with the most scrupulous neatness and 
 exactness by the careful child. Teenah soon 
 became the favored attendant of her mistress ; 
 sat at her feet and learned to sew, and sing, and 
 read, until the advent of little Lulu divided 
 her care. 
 
 " May I love the baby, Miss Ellen ? " was the 
 singular inquiry of the little black nurse, as she 
 sat a few days after, waving her great fan over 
 the infant's crib. 
 
 " What do you mean, Teenah ? " 
 
 " Do no what I mean, Missus ! Never had 
 noffin to love much ! No mammy, no baby ! " 
 
 " Do you remember your mother, Teenah ? " 
 
 " Never had none, only Aunt Chrissy." 
 
 " Who taught you before I came? " 
 
 "De birds, Miss!" 
 
 The eyes of the young mother filled with 
 tears. A little human heart crying out from 
 its lonely depths for love, for something to 
 love, was a thing she had never thought of 
 before. There were, a dozen children on the 
 plantation ; how it happened that Teenah had
 
 THE BROWNINGS. 23 
 
 no brother or sister among them, no home in 
 their cabins, she could not tell. "Will MY 
 child ever know such poverty of heart ? " she 
 thought, as she gazed on the solitary waif 
 before her; " God alone knows." 
 
 After a silent prayer for direction, Ellen 
 Browning called her little maid to her side. 
 
 "I have not answered your question yet, 
 Teenah. Will you love my baby ? " 
 
 " Better than anything in de world, if you 
 will let me, Miss." 
 
 "Love her all you wish, my poor child. 
 Teach her the things I have taught you, and 
 other things I will teach you, when she has no, 
 mother." 
 
 "Out of de pictur' book, Miss?" 
 
 " Out of another book, Teenah. I will teach 
 you about God and heaven." 
 
 " Oh, I know Him now, Miss Ellen. He 
 MADE me. Did He make all de darkeys ? " 
 
 " Yes, and the white folks too." 
 
 " Why didn't He make dem like, den ? " 
 
 A hearty laugh outside betrayed a listener.
 
 24: THE BROWNINGS. 
 
 " Good for YOU, little ebony," said the voice 
 of Alfred Browning. " I will send you to 
 Oberlin when Miss Ellen has exhausted her 
 stock of knowledge, especially if you are to be 
 the future teacher of Lulu." 
 
 There was something ironic in the tone of 
 her husband's voice ; but the hearty laugh that 
 succeeded was full of good-nature, and reas- 
 sured her. 
 
 " Come in, Alfred, and sit by the crib while 
 Teen ah cuts me some flowers." 
 
 There was a merry smile lurking in the cor- 
 ner of his mouth as he obeyed the summons. 
 
 " Shall I use the brush this way? " he asked, 
 demurely. " Now, Ellen, what is it? " 
 
 " Tell me who is Teenah, and why she has 
 . no relatives on the plantation ? " 
 
 . " A little shipwrecked imp, I bought for a 
 few shillings off the coast, and brought home 
 to Aunt Chriss." 
 
 " How did it all hap'pen ? " 
 
 " Half-a-dozen years ago a terrible storm 
 occurred. Many vessels were wrecked off the
 
 THE BROWNINGS. 25 
 
 Carolinas, and among them an African slaver. 
 Her captain was from Cape Cod, and his 
 worthless carcass became food for sharks. 
 Many dead bodies were washed ashore, and 
 among them an old colored sailor who had 
 Teenah lashed to his back. The child was 
 alive, and in a few hours was as active as a 
 monkey. I was up the coast not long after, 
 and heard that a few of the surviving negroes 
 were at the house of a wrecker. Being short 
 of hands at the time, I went to look at them ; 
 but a Florida trader was there before me. He 
 had taken them all with the exception of the 
 child, whom the wrecker's wife was most 
 anxious to be rid of. I took her, out of sheer 
 pity to both, and she bids fair to become a 
 genius." 
 
 "I will see what I can make of her," re- 
 turned his wife, gravely. " You know I have 
 .always liked the child." 
 
 And so for nearly four years Teenah grew 
 under the kindly fostering care of the new mis- 
 tress, a highly favored child of bondage. And
 
 2 6 THE BRO WNINGS. 
 
 when her mistress's strength declined, all the 
 care that had been bestowed upon her was re- 
 paid a hundredfold by the grateful child. Of 
 ull the attached servants no one knew as well 
 as she how to minister to the invalid's pleasure 
 or her necessities. No one else could sing her 
 own cradle-song to little Lulu, and to no one 
 save her parents was the little one so fondly 
 attached. Even Alfred Browning had to ac- 
 knowledge at last that " Teenah was no com- 
 mon darkey." 
 
 Yery difficult it is when skies are bright, and 
 the voice of love whispers of a happy future, 
 to respond, " Our future lies not here ! It is 
 hidden in the grave ! " Ellen Browning found 
 it so, and so for awhile kept silent. But when 
 the war-clouds began to gather in her country's 
 horizon, and she heard the distant angry thun- 
 der and felt assured the tempest would not 
 pass by, her own life -appeared to her of little 
 moment in comparison with a duty left undone, 
 or a word of truth left unspoken. Then for 
 the first time since she had forsaken her own
 
 THE BROWNINGS. 27 
 
 home for that of strangers was the voice of de- 
 traction raised against her. 
 
 With few exceptions, the landed proprietors 
 of that vicinity favored the new political party. 
 Her old friends, the Mclntoshes, were among 
 the leaders. As a near relative of the family, 
 her husband's decision rested with great weight 
 upon her mind. A convention had been called 
 at the capital for State action. The question 
 whether he would assist to swell the tide of 
 disloyalty was more to her then than whether 
 she would live to bless his life or watch over 
 their child. 
 
 Never from woman's lips have arisen more 
 earnest cries than from hers that her husband's 
 feet might not stumble on the dark mountain 
 of secession ; never from woman's eyes fallen 
 more joyful tears than from hers when she 
 heard him respond to a party of friends, who 
 came to question him openly " I am not with 
 you in this matter. Every drop of blood in 
 my veins is loyal to the old Union ! " 
 
 Not a word on the subject had ever passed
 
 28 THE BROWNINGS. 
 
 between them; but when their guests were 
 gone, she drew her chair close beside him, took 
 his hand and pressed it to her lips, saying : 
 
 " I can bear to die now, my husband ! You 
 have lifted the heaviest weight from my 
 heart." 
 
 "Bear to die, Ellen ! Tell me what you 
 mean, darling? " 
 
 " Don't look so shocked ! Gaze calmly upon 
 me, Alfred, and now you will see how very 
 near I am drawing to our Eternal Home. I 
 could not bear to speak of it ; I thought you 
 would see it soon enough. But joy has un- 
 sealed my lips. While I have prayed once 
 that you might be able to bear this stroke 
 without complaint, I have prayed many times 
 that you might be strong in the hour of our 
 country's darkness. God be thanked that you 
 are true and loyal ! " 
 
 " This subject has tried you too far, my dear, 
 and you have grown weak and nervous. Do 
 not think I have been blind to your anxiety, 
 or that it has not influenced me. Although
 
 THE BROWNINGS. 29 
 
 my own convictions would for ever have pre- 
 vented me from being a secessionist, I might 
 have been tempted, like many others, to drift 
 along with the popular current, instead of re- 
 solving steadily to oppose it. Do not think 
 that the loss of property or a sense of personal 
 danger could have influenced me; but issues 
 dearer far than my own life are involved in 
 my decision the safety perhaps of my wife 
 and child." 
 
 " Fear not for us, Alfred ; I shall soon be at 
 rest, and the God who has heard my prayers 
 will watch over our child." 
 
 " I cannot bear to hear you speak thus, my 
 darling wife; you unnerve me. When the 
 winter passes away from your Northern hills, 
 I will send you to gather strength in their 
 bracing air. Have courage until then, Ellen ! " 
 
 She smiled faintly. Her husband turned 
 and brushed away a tear.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 No sooner were Alfred Browning's political 
 sentiments avowed than the tide of public 
 opinion turned against him ; and by none was 
 he more strongly reproached than by his own 
 kindred. "They had always suspected him 
 of leaning towards abolitionism," they averred ; 
 "his marriage to a Northerner had doubtless 
 strengthened that inclination. But one thing 
 was certain ; he could never live in peace, and 
 share the benefits of a government he ignored. 
 Georgia was an independent State, for ever cut 
 loose from the old Union" and her sons must 
 abide the decision or become outcasts." 
 
 The taunt of abolitionism stirred the proud 
 spirit of Browning to its very depth, while the 
 allusion to his marriage stung him to anger. 
 
 " If," he said haughtily, " to hold a State in-
 
 THE BROWNINGS. 31 
 
 stitution lightly, when it conflicts with the wel- 
 fare of my country, constitute an abolitionist, 
 then am I one indeed, though I never before 
 had such a suspicion. And if to have married 
 a woman of goodness above all praise strength- 
 en not a man's courage to do right, he must be 
 altogether unworthy of his good fortune." 
 
 As time sped, that which had long been ap- 
 parent to the young wife and mother became 
 evident to all. The spoiler was not to be 
 robbed of his prey by soft sunshine, change of 
 air, or the sweeter breath of love. His claim 
 had already been delayed a few pleasant years, 
 while earth-ties had been growing stronger and 
 stronger. Had she remained in her own North- 
 ern home, the seeds of disease would doubt- 
 less have matured a little sooner, but not more 
 certainly ; for when were the seeds of con- 
 sumption, once planted, ever known to fail ? 
 
 The certainty of the event fell with crushing 
 weight upon the faithful husband, who had 
 shut his eyes steadily against conviction. For 
 awhile he could not be brought to speak on the
 
 32 THE BROWNINGS. 
 
 subject, or act in reference to it. But in time 
 a portion of his wife's heroic spirit seemed in- 
 fused into his own, though little of her patient 
 submission. Her wishes in regard to the future 
 of her child were in strict accordance with his 
 own. She had another wish, more earnestly 
 expressed even than those for her own child, 
 and lived tasee it gratified. It was Teenah's 
 emancipation. The legal papers were drawn 
 and placed in her own hands, and she had the 
 satisfaction of communicating the intelligence 
 to the child, and advising her as to her 
 future. 
 
 Lulu's nurse wept on her knees as the infor- 
 mation was imparted to her ; kissed her kind 
 mistress's hands, and promised never to leave 
 her little helpless charge to a stranger, whatever 
 might happen. The promise was a comfort to 
 the dying parent. 
 
 The other servants of the estate shared their 
 young mistress's care and blessing; and when 
 her last work of love was done, and they laid 
 her to rest beneath the flowers of June, all the
 
 THE BROWNINGS. 83 
 
 sunshine of Eose Cottage was darkened for 
 ever. 
 
 Great events in the history of the nation 
 trod thickly upon one another in the succeed- 
 ing months. The war-cloud which lay dark 
 and threatening in the horizon burst in fury on. 
 the land. The victory of Manassas had inspired 
 the Southern leaders with fresh confidence and 
 determination, and no voice of reason was 
 thenceforward heard in cabinet or council. 
 Every man, whatever his wishes or his will, 
 must help to drive the car of their Moloch 
 through the land. No Union man was safe to 
 abide in peace at home. 
 
 Several times since refusing to enrol his 
 name as a volunteer in the rebel service 
 Alfred Browning had been warned to repair 
 to a camp of instruction, or prepare for a worse 
 fate. Threats did not intimidate him. " Truth 
 must have its martyrs" he said haughtily. "If 
 I die, it shall be in its defence." He had asked 
 but one boon to send his little one and her 
 
 nurse to her mother's friends in the North, 
 5
 
 34 THE BR WNINGS. 
 
 "No one will be permitted to leave Hie Con- 
 federacy" was the tyrannous reply. 
 
 It was not long before the granary of the 
 plantation was rifled of its corn, and the sugar- 
 house of its sweets. His flocks were also driven 
 away by the merciless guerillas. 
 
 "It is the last food Eose Cottage plantation 
 will ever furnish the rebellion," he said reso- 
 lutely. 
 
 A few days afterwards he called together his 
 field-hands and addressed them thus : 
 
 "We have been robbed of our crops by 
 the guerillas. If there is anything to entice 
 them, we shall be robbed again. I will 
 plant no more. You have heard of the great 
 fleet that has landed upon the islands of the 
 coast. The Northerners come to liberate the 
 white men of the South as well as the blacks. 
 I will do all in my power to assist them. As 
 many of you as are willing to take your lives 
 in your hands and run your chances of getting 
 to the fleet are at liberty to go. You have all 
 been faithful to me, but I have no further need
 
 THE BROWNINGS. 35 
 
 of your services. You are now free. I pro- 
 mised your dying mistress to care for you, and 
 will do my best to provide you with extra 
 clothing for the coming year. Take what 
 provisions you may require for the journey, 
 and help one another. The way is not long ; 
 go a few at a time ; and if you are arrested 
 and brought back as runaways, you can start 
 again. I will do all I can for you, and may 
 God guide you in safety ! " 
 
 A shower of tears and sobs burst from the 
 poor creatures while their master was speak- 
 ing. 
 
 " Qod bress dear Mar's Alfred," was heard on 
 every side. But only a few appeared in haste 
 to avail themselves of the proffered freedom ; 
 for the plantation, especially since the advent 
 of the beloved mistress, had been a home of 
 comfort to them as well as of toil. 
 
 There is much error in the common belief 
 that cruelty is the law of the Southern planta- 
 tion. It is only an exception to the more 
 general rule of care and kindness. Wrong as
 
 36 THE BROWNINGS. 
 
 such a system of servitude may be in itself, 
 great as are its attendant evils, nowhere per- 
 haps in the world are found more careless, 
 happy laborers than in the Southern United 
 States. 
 
 In less than a month every cabin on the 
 estate, except old Uncle Dick's, was deserted. 
 They went in families and companies, and 
 their exodus was attended with much unfeigned 
 sorrow. Some of them were old servants 
 the playmates of their master in his boyhood ; 
 and a few older still, brought by the old master 
 when he came out from South Carolina thirty 
 years before. These needed a word of encou- 
 ragement as they went forth like helpless chil- 
 dren to an untried life. 
 
 Aunt Chrissy alone was incorrigible. 
 
 "Let the chilluns go out mid songs and 
 thanksgivin's," she said. " Uncle Dick and I 
 is ole people, and will wait for dem on de 
 shinin' shore. Young Mar's was rocked in dis 
 yer ole arms, and dey'll work for him till dar 
 work is done."
 
 THE BROWNINGS. 
 
 37 
 
 Uncle Dick abided by Aunt Chrissy's de- 
 cision, while their children and grandchildren 
 went forth to freedom ; and this is why the 
 cabins were all deserted on Christmas morning.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 WE will now go back to little Lulu and 
 Teenah, whom we left making wreaths on the 
 piazza. 
 
 When they had completed them, they went 
 away through the orangery to lay their offer- 
 ings on the new-made grave. It was a lovely 
 spot. Purple passion-flowers and yellow jas- 
 mines ran wild on every side. They crept up 
 the tall oaks, hid in the pendulous mass, and 
 sent their perfume down like a breath of love 
 to the little motherless child, who threw her- 
 self on the green sod, and wept as though her 
 heart were breaking. Teenah wept, too, as she 
 strove to comfort her. She told her her mamma 
 wasn't sick any more, like she was before; 
 that the good angels had carried her away to 
 their own beautiful country, and put a gold
 
 THE BROWNINGS. 39 
 
 crown on her head, and a harp in her hand ; 
 and that when she had learned all the pretty 
 stories there, and all the sweet hymns, she 
 would come back for Lulu. 
 
 " And papa ? " asked the child. 
 
 " Yes, for Mar's Alfred too ; and maybe de 
 good Lord will send for Teenah." 
 
 " Oh ! I shall take you when I go, Teenah," 
 said Lulu, very gravely. "You know I 
 couldn't get along without you ; I couldn't 
 curl my hair, or make wreaths, or do anything ; 
 and mamma will wish to see you when I come, 
 you know. Mamma loved you, Teenah." 
 
 Then the little ones began to sing, and sang 
 all the Christmas hymns they knew, while the 
 sun crept up the heavens until noon. 
 
 Not long after, Uncle Dick might have been 
 seen walking slowly through the shrubbery 
 towards the oak grove. He had his old fiddle 
 under his arm, and some cakes in his hands 
 which Aunt Chrissy had sent for the children. 
 
 Lulu had sung herself to sleep, and lay with 
 her head in Teenah's lap. Uncle Dick ob-
 
 40 THE BROWNINGS. 
 
 served this, and not wishing to disturb her, 
 sat down at a respectful distance and began to 
 pull the strings of his beloved instrument in a 
 way that made it respond very sadly. By and 
 by he bowed his head as though keeping time 
 to some remembered tune, then broke out in 
 mournful tenor: 
 
 " Dar'll be no more sorrow dar 
 Dar'll be no more sorrow dar I 
 In heben above, whar all is love, 
 Dar'll be no more sorrow dar I " 
 
 The sound of his voice aroused the little 
 sleeper. She looked around and whispered : 
 "I thought the angels were coming for us, 
 Teenah ; but it is only Uncle Dick." 
 
 Seeing a shade of disappointment on Lulu's 
 face, Teenah said, laughingly : " He's got plum- 
 cakes to do us till dinner. Look yer I Now, 
 Uncle Dick, play us a real lively tune; den 
 we'll go and watch for Mar's Alfred." 
 
 An hour afterwards the children were sit- 
 ting upon the wharf, but neither boat nor
 
 THE BROWNINGS. 41 
 
 boatmen could be seen. The Christmas din- 
 ner was ready and waiting, and Uncle Dick 
 was walking backwards and forwards between 
 the kitchen and the landing-place until the 
 report of a gun was heard in an opposite di- 
 rection. 
 
 " Didn't tink Massur 'd come that way," he 
 said; and went to see what he could dis- 
 cover. 
 
 He was scarcely out of sight, when two men 
 with blue cockades on their hats made their 
 appearance on the wharf. 
 
 " Good morning, Cousin Fred," said Lulu. 
 
 "A merry Christmas, little fairy! What 
 are you looking for here at the landing? " 
 
 " For the boat, with papa and old Zack." 
 
 " Oh, he went this way, then," said the gen- 
 tleman in a significant tone to his companion. 
 " How long since he went away, little cousin ? " 
 
 Aunt Chrissy came hurrying down to the 
 wharf, shaking her head at the children, and 
 asking a dozen questions of the men before 
 
 they had time to reply to the first. 
 6
 
 42 TEE BROWNINGS. 
 
 " Had they heard a word about de runaway 
 darkeys ? Poor Mar's Alfred was done worn 
 out hunting for dem. Not a soul left to clar 
 de field, and all de corn and sugar clean gone 
 with them. Any ob ole Mar's Tom's darkeys 
 run away to de ole Union ? " 
 
 In the midst of her questioning they beat a 
 hasty retreat. 
 
 "Chile," said Aunt Chrissy, addressing 
 Lulu when the men were out of sight, " you 
 oughtn't to have tole dem dar men what you's 
 looking for." 
 
 "Mamma taught me to speak the truth," 
 Lulu replied, solemnly. 
 
 "Truth is pearls! Bad men is swine. 
 'T won't do nohow for to cast de pearls afore 
 de swine. My good ole Missus use for to say 
 dat ar to me." 
 
 Lulu understood nothing of all this. She 
 only felt as though she had done wrong in 
 some way, and could hardly keep from crying, 
 especially when another hour passed and her 
 father did not come.
 
 THE BROWNINGS. 43 
 
 If the hours of that afternoon were long, the 
 winter days were very short ; and the sun soon 
 began to sink in the west, and the long sha- 
 dows to fall eastward. Aunt Chrissy called 
 Lulu and Teenah to the kitchen to eat their 
 Christmas pies, and said they would have din- 
 ner by lamplight. 
 
 But long after lamplight no one had tasted 
 dinner at Eose Cottage. The turkey was cold 
 on the table ; all the nice vegetables which had 
 been moulded in pretty forms were cold also : 
 only the coffee was boiling and fragrant on the 
 kitchen hearth. The night was dark and 
 hazy ; and Uncle Dick with his lantern sat 
 upon the lonely wharf waiting for his mas- 
 ter until midnight, then went back to the 
 kitchen to communicate his fears to Aunt 
 Chrissy. 
 
 Lulu was asleep in her arms ; she could 
 not put her to bed, she said, before Mar's 
 Alfred came. Teenah lay upon the floor 
 with her back to the fire thinking of the old 
 Christmas times when mirth and gladness
 
 44 
 
 THE BROWNINGS. 
 
 ruled the festival until its close, and the 
 beloved Mistress was both gift-giver and 
 angel.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 NOT long after midnight, the sound of cau- 
 tious footsteps was heard in the path that led 
 from the cottage to the kitchen ; then the 
 latch-spring was drawn and the door opened. 
 
 " Bress God ! Mar's Alfred, you is safe," 
 exclaimed Aunt Chrissy. 
 
 Every one else in the cabin was asleep ap- 
 parently, and no one was awakened by his 
 noiseless entrance. The fire had burned down, 
 to a few brands, but before it stood the coffee- 
 pot ; and the old woman made a movement as 
 if to rise and wait upon him. 
 
 " Keep quiet, and let me speak to you. 
 The guerillas are on my track again, and 
 threaten to make clean work. My uncle's 
 man, Tim, has revealed the whole plot. I 
 wish to speak of the children, and no time is
 
 46 THE BROWNINGS. 
 
 to be lost. You must take them away to-night. 
 Take them to the old cabin on Little Creek, 
 and remain there until you see or hear from me. 
 Uncle Dick can supply you with fish and wild 
 game, and Tim will carry you hominy and 
 rice. Here is a small trunk which contains 
 gold and my mother's jewels. Preserve 
 it, if possible, for Lulu. There are valuable 
 papers in the trunk also." 
 
 Teenah was no longer asleep. Her large, 
 dark eyes were fixed intently upon her master, 
 while her ears drank in every word he had 
 spoken. 
 
 " Trust it wid me," she said, earnestly, as 
 she arose and stood before. him. " I will save 
 it for Miss Lulu. 1 ' 
 
 " I have to trust her to your care, Teenah. 
 Whatever happen, promise me you will never 
 forsake her." 
 
 " I would die first, Mar's Alfred. I know 
 all de paths in de woods to Little Creek ; and 
 my eyes are not old, nor my ears deaf, like 
 Uncle Dick's. You may trust Lulu to me."
 
 THE BROWNINGS. 47 
 
 Aunt Chrissy put the child gently in her 
 father's arms, then aroused Dick, and went 
 away to the cottage where the Christmas 
 dinner had been waiting for long hours on 
 the table. Lulu's little bed was tied in a close 
 bundle, and a few garments from her wardrobe 
 were added to it. A large basket was next 
 filled with food from the table and a few 
 culinary utensils ; then warm shawls were 
 found, and Lulu was wrapped closely with- 
 out awaking. 
 
 " What will you do, Mar's Alfred? " Teenah 
 asked sadly, as they were making ready to 
 depart. 
 
 " Stay and defend the house at all hazards." 
 
 "Dey'll tar you to pieces like tiger-cats," 
 said Uncle Dick, groaning aloud. 
 
 "I have to die some time, Dick, and dare 
 them to do their worst." 
 
 " Dar's de chile, den ? " 
 
 " Yes, the child. My poor little Lulu I " 
 .he exclaimed, pressing her to his heart, while 
 tears rolled down his cheeks. "Better that
 
 48 THE BROWNINGS. 
 
 you were laid beside your angel mother, my 
 bird of paradise ! Are you all ready ? Come, 
 then, I will carry her a little way and be back 
 in time." 
 
 All through the pine regions of the far 
 South may be found little hovels without 
 occupants. They belong to the cow-hunters. 
 Many of the wealthy planters have immense 
 herds of cattle. In the autumn these cattle 
 are all driven forth to distant fields to subsist 
 during the winter months. When spring 
 arrives, a party of men on horseback, with 
 long whips and trained dogs, go forth to hunt 
 the cows and bring them home with their 
 young calves to the plantation-pens. Some- 
 times they stray away many miles, and the 
 hunters are out for days scouring the wood- 
 paths and green savannas before they dis- 
 cover their own mark ; for every drove has its 
 owner's mark. Saddle-bags of provision and 
 blankets are taken by the hunters, and these 
 lonely lodges are their shelter from night and 
 storm. They are commonly located near some
 
 THE BROWNINGS. 49 
 
 creek or spring of water, and sometimes an 
 old camp-kettle or tea-kettle will be found 
 secreted within. "Runaways are often, sur- 
 prised and captured in these desolate cabins, 
 but never in the season of cow-hunting. 
 
 Towards one of those wretched cabins were 
 the footsteps of our fugitives now directed. It 
 was nearly five miles from the cottage, on the 
 bank of a little creek bordered on one side by 
 a green prairie meadow, on the other by thick 
 pine woods. The cabin stood in the woods. 
 Two years before the family went there for a 
 day's fishing, and had a merry time of it. 
 Both Teenah and Aunt Chrissy were of the 
 party, and Teenah had not forgotten it. Often 
 in imagination had she wandered back to that 
 solitary cabin ; and when, at the distance of a 
 mile or so from the cottage, her master inquired 
 if they were certain of the paths, Teenah de- 
 scribed every crook and turn of the way to his 
 entire satisfaction. Aunt Chrissy had never a 
 sharp eye for locality or direction, and Uncle 
 Dick was long past being trusted for anything
 
 50 THE BROWNINGS. 
 
 except correct intentions. Though he had 
 been a hundred times to the spot, he would 
 very likely have missed it in the dimness of 
 night. 
 
 " You shall be pilot, Teenah, and carry the 
 basket and trunk ; Chrissy will take Lulu now 
 from me, and Uncle Dick has more than his 
 back and arms full already. Be wary, and do 
 nothing until you see or hear from me." 
 
 He pressed his lips to the brow of his half- 
 sleeping child, whispered a blessing as he laid 
 her softly in the old woman's arms, and turned 
 his footsteps in the direction of home. 
 
 The nights are long at Christmas, and morn- 
 ing had not yet broken. Damp and dark the 
 way lay before them ; and one who has never 
 traversed a Southern forest can scarcely con- 
 ceive of its intricacies. Sometimes at the 
 crossings, or where the paths met, Teenah 
 would make the old people sit down with their 
 burdens, while she went alone to reconnoitre, 
 instead of taking the one indicated by either 
 of them. In this way their progress was very
 
 THE BROWNINGS. 51 
 
 slow; but fortunately they made no diver- 
 sions, and the first light of morning found 
 them well advanced on their way, within half 
 a mile of their destination. Then for the last 
 time they sat down to rest, with their faces 
 turned backward towards the dear old home 
 they had so strangely forsaken. 
 
 " Better gone wid the chilluns when de way 
 war open," Uncle Dick muttered ; then, as if 
 expecting a reproof from his sterner compa- 
 nion, he added : " Uncle Dick's a fool ! He can't 
 see noffin clar any more." 
 
 " Look away yonder," said Teenah, starting 
 suddenly to her feet and indicating the direc- 
 tion with her finger ; " dar's fire up de river! 
 Don't you see dat clar, Uncle Dick ? " 
 
 Poor old Dick groaned aloud. " 'Tis at de 
 plantation," he said ; " and poor Mar's Alfred 
 will be slewed like de wild beast by grillas. 
 Let me crawl my ole limbs back and die wid 
 him, Chrissy ? " 
 
 " Hush such nonsense, ole man ! Some people 
 has no head, and dat's de fault I find wid our
 
 52 THE BROWNINGS. 
 
 color. Who but Aunt Chrissy rocked him in 
 his cradle, and would die now fur to save him? 
 But we's udder things to do now, Dick ! Here's 
 de chile's mouth to fill, and the chile's tender 
 heart to comfort, while our own chilluns has 
 gone out free, bress de good Lord ! " 
 
 The fire was evidently at the plantation ; and 
 by the way it spread and grew brighter, there 
 was little doubt that the buildings were all 
 lighted. 
 
 " I see plainly who is at de bottom of it all," 
 said old Chrissy. " 'Tis dem dar triflin' young 
 men who offer to hunt de runaways. Ole Mar's 
 Mclntosh best to send his own son to de army 
 when he talk so bery loud bout patrotism." 
 
 " De grillas mostly no account, white trash," 
 responded Dick. " Dey need Mar's Fred to Vise 
 um whar to strike. De ole man's money helps 
 de young man's wit right smart." 
 
 Uncle Dick was as shrewd a philosopher and 
 reasoned as soundly as Dickens when he said : 
 " Patent-boots, lemon-colored kid gloves, and 
 a fur coat-collar, assist jokes materially."
 
 THE BROWNINGS. 53 
 
 For some time the Heir of Mclntosh Grove 
 had been no favorite at the cottage. The 
 feeblest-minded servant there . could discover 
 that his preaching and his practice were at 
 variance. None could talk secession louder 
 than he ; but while other young men had 
 taken up arms and joined the insurgents, the 
 eighth month of the war found him still only 
 an idle vindicator of the cause at home. He 
 was on a journey of jpressiog necessity, so at 
 least it was urged wrien the first volunteers 
 left the county ; then a most unfortunate 
 sprain had disabled his wrist for months ; but 
 while the old gentleman's funds were contri- 
 buted freely, the son's cockade and the son's 
 courage could not be questioned. Rumor said 
 he was in the councils of the guerillas, if not 
 in the camp of the Confederates. 
 
 The night walk ended silently and sorrow- 
 fully. Little Lulu, after such a night of troubled 
 half-consciousness, awoke in the wretched cabin. 
 Aunt Chrissy had lighted a fire and swung a 
 camp-kettle, not upon the hearth, fbr the cabin
 
 54 THE BROWNINGS. 
 
 had neither chimney nor hearth, but out be- 
 neath a large pine in front of the door. There 
 she made coffee, roasted sweet potatoes and 
 fried bacon, all of which they had brought in 
 their store basket from the plantation. There 
 was a smaller basket of delicacies for Lulu, 
 part of the Christmas-turkey, a glass of jelly, 
 and some cakes; the last, Aunt Chrissy affirm- 
 ed, which the poor child might see for many a 
 
 day. 
 
 *9 
 Teenah found a small piece of broken 
 
 board, which she set up and covered with a 
 napkin. She called it Lulu's table. Upon 
 it the child's first meal was spread in the 
 forest.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 NOTHING could exceed Lulu's surprise on 
 awaking to find herself dressed in such a wild, 
 strange place. She began to cry, when Teenah 
 said : " Isn't it nice, Lulu, to come out yer and 
 see all de pretty birds in de woods, and more 
 flowers dan we could ever pull ? Uncle Dick 
 is gone to fish for mullet, and we will fish for 
 sheep-heads in de creek. You shall have a 
 little line all to yourself, and when your papa 
 comes can tell him about it." 
 
 Such soothing words and promises calmed 
 the wondering child. When breakfast was 
 eaten they went out for a ramble in the pine 
 woods, Teenah forgetting how very weary and 
 footsore she was in her efforts to amuse her 
 little charge, who was more precious to her in 
 her misfortune than ever before.
 
 56 THE BROWNINGS. 
 
 All the morning they plucked wild flowers, 
 and braided them into wreaths, or listened to 
 the mocking-birds calling to one another from 
 tree to tree, or watched the play of the gay 
 lizards until the sound of something like a 
 horn recalled them to the cabin. Uncle Dick 
 had found an old conch-shell which had been 
 left behind by the cow-hunters, and was trying 
 to get music out of it, for music was the 
 solace of his weary life; and the beloved 
 fiddle had been left on the old shelf at 
 home. 
 
 At night the cabin was lighted with pine 
 knots, and they all sat down together upon the 
 rude seats they bad constructed, and told 
 stories until Lulu fell asleep in Teenah's arms 
 and was laid upon her little bed. A mosquito 
 curtain was then carefully drawn around her, 
 and Teenah lay down at her feet almost worn 
 out with fatigue and anxiety. 
 
 Great was their joy on awaking the next 
 morning to find a familiar friend stretched out 
 on the rough floor beside them. It was dear
 
 THE BROWNINGS. 57 
 
 faithful old Zack, though how he had discover- 
 ed their retreat was a mystery to them. He 
 licked their hands and barked and howled in 
 answer to their caresses, until Teenah declared 
 he had gone crazy for joy. 
 
 Zack was a noble hound, old and sagacious, 
 and had long been the especial pet of the 
 household. He used to accompany the young 
 mistress in her walks over the plantation, and 
 she taught him to carry her basket in his 
 mouth. He had been known to come home 
 from a hunt with a wounded bird for Lulu ; 
 and once when a cross pig broke into the poul- 
 try-yard, and swallowed one young chicken, 
 and bit and lamed another, he took the poor 
 lame little thing up tenderly in his mouth and 
 carried it to Aunt Chrissy, knowing full well 
 she would take care of it. There was another 
 thing that endeared him more than all the rest 
 to his master. After the death of the beloved 
 young Mistress had desolated the cottage, old 
 Zack was missed from his watch-post on the 
 piazza; search was made, and the faithful crea-
 
 58 THE BROWNINGS. 
 
 ture was found stretched beside the new-made 
 grave. For months he held his night-watch 
 there ; and not until the lawless guerillas be- 
 gan their depredations did he go back to his old 
 place. 
 
 When Alfred Browning returned to his soli- 
 tary dwelling that night, Zack met him with 
 unusual demonstrations, running up and down 
 the piazza and around the house as though 
 there was something to tell. His master fol- 
 lowed him, saying : " What is it, old doggy ? 
 Tell me what it is, good fellow ? " 
 
 But though Zack tried hard to tell, and his 
 master followed him closely, nothing was dis- 
 covered ; everything around the premises was 
 as silent as death. After examining his pistol 
 to see that it was all right in case of emergen- 
 cy, he threw himself down upon the hall 
 lounge and soon fell asleep. 
 
 He was aroused by the barking of the dog. 
 A bright light was shining through the hall 
 window, and a scent of smoke was in the air. 
 Grasping his pistol firmly, he hastened to the
 
 THE BROWNINGS. 59 
 
 door, and discovered flames bursting from a 
 dozen cabins. Old Zack was at his side bark- 
 ing furiously, and the two went together 
 through the gate which led to the negro quar- 
 ters. Not a person was to be seen ; but a 
 shout behind them soon revealed the culprits. 
 Several ill-dressed men stood on the back 
 piazza, seen plainly by the burning pine-knot 
 which one of their number was in the act of 
 applying to the cottage. 
 
 With a sudden rush and bound, master and 
 dog cleared the intervening space, and the next 
 instant the torch-bearer fell dead among his 
 comrades. Zack held another of the miscreants 
 fast by the throat, while the trusty revolver 
 felled a third. At that moment a stout negro, 
 armed with a club, rushed from the kitchen 
 and began to deal blows upon the others, who, 
 discharging their pistols as they went, fled 
 through the shrubbery. 
 
 One shot took effect in Browning's right 
 arm, wounding it severely. The negro, pre- 
 serving a rigid silence, ripped open the sleeve,
 
 60 THE BROWNINGS. 
 
 and bound the wounded arm firmly with a 
 handkerchief. 
 
 Zack still held his man fast, with the blood 
 streaming from the wound inflicted by his 
 teeth, while his two stout forepaws upon the 
 fellow's breast prevented his efforts to draw his 
 pistol. 
 
 " I will take care of him now, Zack," said 
 Browning, in a voice as cool and cairn as 
 though nothing unusual had occurred. " De- 
 liver your weapons, coward ! " 
 
 " I cannot get at 'em," he said, in a strangled 
 tone; " the hound is killing me." 
 
 "Serving you right, then! Zack, down, 
 my good fellow ! " 
 
 The dog obeyed, and the man yielded his 
 knife and pistol. 
 
 " I think I know you," continued Browning ; 
 " and you are the last man I would have picked 
 out for so dirty a job. How have I injured 
 you, that you would revenge thus ? " 
 
 "You never done me no injury, Mister 
 Alfred, and it was your blessed wife what took
 
 THE BROWNINGS. 61 
 
 care of my ole mother when she had the 
 misery in her side. I was dead-drunk on 
 your own kin's whiskey when I joined the 
 Rangers, as they call themselves. I couldn't 
 bear to go away to camp and leave the ole 
 woman to starve to home." 
 
 " So you sold yourself to burn, and plunder, 
 and steal ! Once I could have fed your old 
 mother, Jerry ; but you have taken my corn, 
 and bacon, and sugar, and driven off my cattle 
 to the camp of the rebels. Not satisfied with 
 that, you would to-night have burned my 
 house above my head. May God forgive you 
 so dastardly an act ! " 
 
 " On my knees, Mr. Browning, I tell you I 
 didn't have no hand in that first business at all. 
 It was only Christmas-eve I was invited down 
 to the grove to take egg-nog and git a few 
 comforts for the ole woman. I didn't calcu- 
 late to jine 'urn ; but yesterday they come and 
 said how my name was on their paper, and I'd 
 got to stand it, or start right straight off for 
 camp."
 
 62 THE BROWNINGS. 
 
 " If what you say is true, Jerry Wilkes, I 
 forgive you." 
 
 A voice from the darkey whispered : " It is 
 true, Mar's Alfred." 
 
 Browning continued : 
 
 " You see, Jerry, I have made bloody work 
 of it. One of your companions lies there dead 
 as a herring ; another is badly wounded. Assist 
 me to take him into the house now ; then go for 
 a surgeon. No time is to be lost. Saddle 
 Billy and ride in haste, or it may be all over 
 with the villain." 
 
 The wounded man was then lifted tenderly, 
 and conveyed to the same soft lounge on which 
 Browning was sleeping an hour before. His 
 groans were painful to listen to, and Jerry was 
 again urged to go quickly for. the nearest sur- 
 geon.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 " I SAY, Mar's Alfred, you done 'zactly right 
 not to be too hard on Jerry," said the negro, 
 as the sound of horses' hoofs rattled down the 
 carriage-way towards the public road. " Mar's 
 Fred git de boys drunk as ole debil ! I watch 
 'urn." 
 
 " Plow came you here to-night, Tim, just at 
 the time you were wanted ? " 
 
 " I 'spect mischief, and come to warn ole 
 Dick. When I found him done gone I put on 
 his ole clofes and made myself ole man like 
 him, else dis yer darkey's neck mightn't be 
 warf ony de use ob a halter. Tole you yisday, 
 Mar's Alfred, what to 'spect. De trute is, dey 
 say you is turned abalishoner, and we darkeys 
 gwine to fight for you and ole Linkum." 
 
 " I am much obliged to you," said Browning.
 
 64 THE BROWNINGS. 
 
 "But when you go home now, will you not be 
 suspected ? " 
 
 " Look out for dat ar. You know my ooman 
 libs up de riber to ole Gibbses. I ask Miss 
 Ally for pass to go and see Rosa. Dis yer's it. 
 Den I brought round here in time for de fight." 
 
 " You are all right, Tim, and a brave 
 fellow." 
 
 The surgeon came and dressed the guerilla's 
 wounds, which he pronounced dangerous. 
 Then Browning had his own arm attended to, 
 and advised Jerry to have his neck examined ; 
 but he said he had washed away the blood and 
 found it was only a scratch. The truth was, 
 he was too much ashamed of his night's work, 
 and too thankful for his escape, to heed the 
 slight injury he had received. 
 
 The wounded man moaned all day long, and 
 Browning sat beside him, wet his lips, and 
 gave him every attention he would have be- 
 stowed upon a suffering friend or brother. 
 His first indignation had all passed away, and 
 the lessons of the Good Teacher fell upon his
 
 THE BROWNINGS. 65 
 
 mind with new weight. " But I say unto you, 
 love your enemies : bless them that curse you ; 
 do good to them that hate you, aod pray for 
 them that despitefully use you and persecute 
 you, that you may be the children of your 
 Father which is in Heaven, for He maketh His 
 sun to rise on the evil and the good, and 
 sendeth rain upon the just and upon the 
 unjust." It was like a voice from the 
 skies speaking to a heart overburdened with 
 grief. 
 
 Jerry had gone away, "just to ease the 
 mind of the old woman," he said, promising to 
 return and take care of the wounded man at 
 night ; and the faithful watcher and the uncon- 
 scious sufferer were the only human beings in 
 the cottage. Xo one had been near to remove 
 the body of the dead man, which was still 
 lying on the piazza where he fell. But towards 
 noon a cart came down the avenue and entered 
 the great gate. Two men accompanied it, 
 Zack went to the door, and returned whining 
 to his master, who ordered him to be quiet.
 
 66 THE BROWNINGS. 
 
 He understood the order, and lay down beside 
 him contented. 
 
 The body 'was laid upon straw in the cart, 
 and driven away without a word. 
 
 It was drawing towards evening when the 
 injured man opened his eyes for the first time 
 with a look of consciousness. Fastening them 
 upon Browning, he inquired feebly: "Where 
 ami?" 
 
 " At Rose Cottage," was the reply. 
 
 His eyes closed again, and he remained silent 
 for some time, until his attendant wet his lips, 
 as he had done all day at frequent intervals. 
 
 "Are you Alfred Browning? " he asked. 
 
 " I am the person you mention." 
 
 " Where are the boys ? " 
 
 " Fled, all but one, who has been carted off." 
 
 " Who brought me in here? " 
 
 "I helped to do it. You see, with my right 
 arm shot through, I could not do it alone." 
 
 "What time is it?" 
 
 "Four o'clock in the evening. Are you 
 feeling better ? "
 
 THE BROWNINGS. 67 
 
 " I don't know. I feel like I was dreaming." 
 He closed his eyes again and murmured to 
 himself indistinctly. Who the poor man was 
 Browning could not tell, but evidently no per- 
 son who belonged in the vicinity. There was 
 something in his speech which seemed to belie 
 the extreme rusticity of his garb ; something, 
 too, in the tone of the voice not wholly strange, 
 and yet he was not sure. Between his own 
 weakness and weariness Browning also felt not 
 very unlike a person in a bewildering dream.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 JERRY came back that night as he promised, 
 and assumed the care of the wounded guerilla, 
 insisting that Browning should go away and 
 get some sleep. 
 
 He went away, but not to sleep. He went 
 forth into the fresh evening air, and stood amid 
 the ashes of his burnt cabins. Not a log of 
 them remained ; only the stable, kitchen, and 
 cottage had escaped the conflagration, and these 
 had been saved almost by a miracle. Was it 
 likely, he asked himself, that his enemies would 
 be satisfied with their last night's work, and 
 leave him thenceforward in peace ? Could his 
 little, motherless child be safe again in their 
 once happy home? He knew too well the 
 unscrupulous character of the men he had 
 to contend with to believe it. That brand
 
 THE BROWNINGS. 69 
 
 of abolitionism meant persecution to the 
 death. 
 
 But Alfred Browning was not an abolitionist. 
 His belief in slavery was hereditary, and he had 
 never cared to question it. It came from a 
 long line of ancestors, all slave-owners. In a 
 moral point of view, no merit beyond that of 
 patriotism could be attached to his enfranchise- 
 ment of his servants. He loved his country 
 truly, the whole of it more than a section ; and 
 there was no power on earth which could force 
 him to raise a weapon against it. 
 
 Musing upon the sad uncertainty of the 
 future, his steps followed unconsciously the 
 well-worn footpath to his wife's grave. Silence 
 and peace brooded over it with wings like a 
 dove. No jar of earthly discord would ever- 
 more disturb the beloved sleeper. " Better 
 thus," he sighed, " than to have tarried longer 
 here. In your own saintly footsteps, my darling, 
 lead the little one and me to your heavenly rest! " 
 
 For nearly an hour he sat absorbed in silent 
 meditation. Old Zack was beside him, with
 
 70 THE BROWNINGS. 
 
 one paw resting upon the grave, and the other 
 upon his master's knee, looking intelligently 
 into his face. 
 
 " You have not forgotten her," his master 
 said, breaking the long silence with a caress as 
 he rose to depart. " Nothing can forget her. 
 Come, my good dog ; I must send you to Lulu." 
 
 They went back through the orangery. The 
 fruit was just ripening, and he plucked the 
 fairest he could discover in the dim light of 
 evening. These were carried into the cottage 
 and put into one of Lulu's little baskets. They 
 then left the house again, and Browning took 
 the same path which he had taken the night 
 before. Zack ran with his nose to the earth, 
 snuffing the air until he caught the track, when 
 he barked joyfully. 
 
 " You have found it, have you ? " said his 
 master. " Take the basket, then, and go. Be 
 careful, and don't spill." 
 
 The dog opened his jaws for the trust, and 
 bounded away. Early the next morning Aunt 
 Chrissy found him at the cabin door with his
 
 THE BROWNINGS. 71 
 
 basket ; a sure token that, whatever else might 
 have happened at the plantation, the master 
 was safe. 
 
 The children ate the oranges with their 
 breakfast, talking all the while to the dog as 
 though they had not seen him for a month. 
 
 " When is papa coming ? " asked Lulu ; " and 
 why did he send us away from the pretty 
 home?" 
 
 Zack couldn't tell, but jumped and barked 
 as loudly as he could ; and his coming made 
 Lulu happy all day. 
 
 That same day the wounded man lay dying 
 at the cottage. His injury proved too severe 
 for the skill of the surgeon or the care of his 
 kind attendant. All night he wandered in 
 mind, and towards morning appeared to be 
 sinking. Jerry was dispatched again for the 
 physician, who said at a glance there was no 
 hope. The poor stranger was dying unrecog- 
 nised, if not uncared for. 
 
 " I think, Jerry," said Browning, when they 
 were alone again, " that you know more of this
 
 72 THE. BR \VNWGS. 
 
 man than you are inclined to tell. If he has 
 friends in the neighborhood, it should be our 
 duty to inform them of his condition." 
 
 " We took a black oath to keep mum, sir. 
 This man, 'specially, didn't wish to be found out 
 in such a business. He's ben gone away from 
 these parts for many years, and got right smart 
 rich, they say, down in Texas. He jus' run 
 down here to see his sister, on his way to join 
 the army. You know'd him when you was 
 both boys, I reckon. I ain't seen him since he 
 turned fifer and run away to Mexico to the 
 war, more'n sixteen years ago." 
 
 " Ah, Jack Thomas, my old school-fellow ! I 
 remember him well," said Browning. " And 
 a brave boy he was, too ! " 
 
 11 A leetle bit rapscallious, Jack was ! Liked 
 advenlurin? better'n buttered hominy, and could 
 be put up to a'most anything, just as they put 
 him up to this yer work, which was none of 
 his own planning." 
 
 "Tell me how it all happened, Jerry. I 
 must know ! "
 
 THE BROWNINGS. 73 
 
 " Well, then, Jack's mother's died, you know, 
 since he's went away, and his sister's married 
 and gone down to St. Mary's to live. He 
 brought up to the Grove Christmas evening, 
 just as the boys was drinking their egg-nog 
 and getting merry. Mr. Fred was mighty 
 glad to see him, and said he'd come in the very 
 nick o' time, as there was some fan on the 
 carpet, a abolition nest to break up (beggin' 
 your pardon, Mister Alfred, them's his very 
 words). He said the boys would do all the 
 dirty work, and wanted a leader; just such a 
 bold Texan ranger as he was, and one whom 
 nobody around there would be likely to know. 
 You know Mister Fred couldn't do nothin' his- 
 self but make egg-nog on account of that lame 
 wrist ; and when the men had drunk enough, 
 they was ready to agree to anything. There 
 was ten on 'em all, lettin' alone the new-comer 
 and myself, who wasn't one on 'em and never 
 meant to be. They was to meet in the nigger 
 chapel the next night at midnight ; but when 
 
 the time come, more'n half on 'em was off some- 
 10
 
 74 THE BROWNINGS. 
 
 wheres else plundering cattle, which, brings 
 better pay than burning housens, and don't 
 sound so bad neither. 
 
 u After waitin' to the chapel raore'n an hour, 
 some was in favor of backin' straight out like 
 the rest had done ; but Mister Fred said right 
 off: ' No I Let two men go up and reconnoitre, 
 and if everything was quiet like, there was men 
 enough there to do the job.' So two of the 
 boys set out, and when they come back report- 
 ed there wasn't a soul on the whole premises. 
 Every man, ooman, and child was gone off to 
 the Union folks. Nothing was left on the plan- 
 tation but a dog and two horses. 
 
 "By this time we'd all took drink enough to 
 git mighty high. Jack changed his fine broad- 
 cloth for a coarse rig, and we started. You 
 know how it ended ; and ef some folks had got 
 shot in place of Jack Thomas, 'twouldn't seemed 
 to be much matter. Jack never knowed he 
 was coming to injure an old acquaintance." 
 
 " Poor fellow ! Did my uncle know any- 
 thing about the project, Jerry ? "
 
 THE BROWNINGS. 75 
 
 "Not to my mind, Mr. Alfred. Madam 
 and him and the young ladies drove away in 
 the carriage in the afternoon. The old gentle- 
 man is death to the bone on abolitionists ; but I 
 don't think, let him talk as he will, he'd be as 
 hard agin his own kin as the young one." 
 
 Browning thought, what he had quite too fine 
 a sense of propriety to utter, that his cousin 
 owed him an old grudge. He knew he had 
 never in his heart forgiven him for winning 
 the hand of Ellen Hunter; and although, 
 at the time, his words of congratulation had 
 been as loud as the loudest, they had never 
 appeared to him to be sincere.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 AT noon a visitor arrived at the cottage. It 
 was Ally Mclntosh, looking just as pretty and 
 blooming as when we first met her in New 
 Hampshire half-a-dozen years ago. She said 
 they had that morning returned from a visit to 
 her sister at Spring Lake. They heard of the 
 fire on their way, and she had heard some 
 other things from, the servants since their 
 arrival home. "Would Cousin Alfred be good 
 enough to tell her all about it ? 
 
 He was frank enough to tell her the truth 
 as far as he understood it, leaving her to make 
 her own inferences. She listened with flushed 
 cheeks and tearful eyes. 
 
 " Just as I expected," she said, stamping 
 her foot impatiently. " I quarrel for you, Cou- 
 sin Alfred, every day, and would help you if I
 
 THE BROWNINGS. 77 
 
 could. Fred is a grand coward, and has 
 proved it now more clearly than ever before. 
 You did not say it, but I know he is at the 
 bottom of all this ; and Tim knows it too. If 
 he doesn't just march off 1 to camp now, I'll tell 
 father every word about it, and all the world 
 besides ! His wrist is no more lame than mine 
 is, and never has been ! Fred is a sneak, and 
 I am ashamed of him." 
 
 At the close of this tempest of words, Ally 
 burst into tears. Her cousin strove to com- 
 fort her. 
 
 " I say, Cousin Alfred, I cannot help crying 
 when I am so indignanf. If I were a man I 
 suppose I should swear. It was bad enough 
 to hear you called an abolitionist every day, 
 and dear Cousin Ellen accused of being your 
 teacher ; but who ever thought of a Mclntosh 
 condescending to counsel with thieves and rob- 
 bers ! They say you shot one or two of the 
 rascals ; I wish in my heart you had made a 
 clean job of it. If I had been near I would 
 have helped you. Did I understand you, you
 
 78 THE BROWNINGS. 
 
 had one of the wounded wretches on your 
 hands?" 
 
 " Come in, Ally, and see." 
 
 She pulled a cluster of white roses from the 
 trellis, and followed him through the hall into 
 the back parlor, where the sufferer had been 
 removed. The physician and Jerry Wilkes 
 were both with him. He had had a morning 
 of intense suffering, but it was almost over. 
 He recognised Browning, who spoke to him 
 kindly, and asked him if he had any wish to 
 communicate. 
 
 " To be buried beside my good mother," he 
 replied feebly ; " and don't let my sister know 
 I met such a fool's death. It would break her 
 heart." 
 
 Noticing Ally for the first time now, he 
 asked : 
 
 " Is that Mary? She looks like an angel. 
 She was a little child when I left home a 
 dear little child I " 
 
 His mind wandered again. He was away 
 in Mexico, fighting over his battles there,
 
 THE BROWNINGS. 79 
 
 huzzaing for the old flag, and planting it on 
 the heights of Chapultepec. 
 
 " 'Tis hard work, comrade," he said, address- 
 ing himself to Browning, who stood support- 
 ing his head ; " but then we are bound to 
 win." 
 
 Cold drops of perspiration were on his fore- 
 head, and a blueness was creeping over his 
 lips. The doctor felt his pulse, and whispered 
 Browning to lead his cousin from the room. 
 Neither spoke as they went, but Ally wept as 
 though her heart would burst. 
 
 Death is a most eloquent preacher of human 
 brotherhood. No matter how widely different 
 our earthly interests, or how far removed our 
 earthly lot, by this one token, " Dust thou art, 
 and unto dust shalt thou return," are we the 
 children of the same common parent on earth, 
 and the same Father in heaven. 
 
 " It always seemed to me that men who 
 would engage in infamous acts must be scoun- 
 drels or barbarians," said Ally, after an inter- 
 val of silence. "Whatever that man may
 
 80 THE BROWNINGS. 
 
 have done, he doesn't look as though meant 
 for either." 
 
 " He was a noble fellow by nature, Ally, 
 and would perhaps have been such with other 
 influences ; but poor, and proud, and father- 
 less, has led many a high spirit into error. 
 The poor fellow had to jostle his way in the 
 world, and with unscrupulous men has grown 
 unscrupulous. I feel no resentment towards 
 him. The greater guilt lies elsewhere." 
 
 "Fred shall come and see what he has 
 done," responded Ally, with spirit ; " and the 
 man shall be buried decently. I can promise 
 father for that." 
 
 " You may promise me for that. I claim 
 the privilege of laying him by his mother." 
 
 " Cousin Alfred, I have not seen Lulu ! " 
 
 " I have sent her away to a place of safety. 
 The contest may not yet be over. They are 
 filling another regiment in the county, you 
 know." 
 
 " That arm will free you now, cousin." 
 
 " I ask no such exemption. My principles
 
 THE BROWNINGS. 81 
 
 will for ever prevent me from taking arms 
 against my country." 
 
 Ally's horse and servant stood waiting at 
 the gate. Her cousin assisted her to mount, 
 and she rode slowly and sorrowfully away 
 through the pine woods which lay between 
 the two plantations. Before reaching home 
 she met her father, a handsome, grey-haired 
 man, who sat in his saddle with all the ease 
 and grace of youth. He, too, had heard of the 
 tragic events at the cottage, and was riding 
 over to satisfy himself of the truth. Probably 
 his own conscience was not quite easy on the 
 subject ; for, though he would have scorned 
 such measures as his son had adopted, he had 
 not been sparing in his epithets and denuncia- 
 tion of his more loyal nephew. 
 
 Ally was glad to meet him, and, sending the 
 servant forward, she gave free expression to 
 her feelings. 
 
 " Go, and look for yourself," she said at last. 
 " See the cabins all in ashes, the store-houses 
 
 emptied and burned, and the family fled in 
 11
 
 82 THE BROWNINGS. 
 
 terror. Worse than all this, behold a stranger 
 deceived unto death. I tell you, father, I 
 blush to bear the name of Mclntosh, for my 
 brother is both a villain and a coward." 
 
 " You are fatigued and excited, my daugh- 
 ter ! Go home and repose yourself, and I will 
 see how affairs stand at the cottage." 
 
 "I will tell you, sir, what must be done 
 immediately. Tim must be sent to prepare 
 the body of the stranger for burial, as no 
 soul is there to do a thing, except that booby 
 of a Jerry Wilkes, who looks as ashamed as a 
 dog that has been hung and cut down. Then 
 a messenger must be dispatched to St. Mary's 
 for the poor fellow's sister. Oh, sir, if you had 
 only heard him speak of his sister, and beg 
 she might never be told of the way in which 
 he came to his death ! Two men must also 
 go and dig a grave beside the widow Thomas, 
 for he asked to be buried close to his good old 
 mother." 
 
 " Poor Jack," said her father, brushing away 
 a tear. " Do everything you like, Ally."
 
 THE BROWNINGS. 
 
 83 
 
 " There is another thing that must be done, 
 sir, before the week closes," and she dropped 
 her voice and spoke huskily ; " Fred must go to 
 camp, or, as little sympathy as I have for the 
 cause, I will put on his clothes and go myself 
 for the honor of the family. I give you 
 warning, father ; and you know I never have 
 spoken falsely." 
 
 He regarded her for a moment without reply, 
 then lifted his hat and bowed as they parted. 
 Every vestige of color had fled from the proud 
 man's face ; he was pale as ashes.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE burial took place the next morning. 
 The few neighbors who had known the widow 
 Thomas and her children were apprised, and 
 assembled to follow the young man to his 
 grave. The Mclntosh carriage followed the 
 hearse with the afflicted sister, but Fred was 
 nowhere in the procession. He had started 
 for the army that morning, and his arrival 
 was chronicled in the Savannah papers the next 
 week as " another patriot in the field ." 
 
 At the close of the burial' service, Ally and 
 her father both urged Browning to go home 
 with them to dinner, but he would not be 
 persuaded. Solitude and a ruined home were 
 more congenial to his feelings than the society 
 of faithless friends or false kindred. Since 
 the avowal of his union sentiments, he had been
 
 THE BROWNINGS. 85 
 
 painfully aware that, with one exception, he had 
 not a single friend at the Grove, where he had 
 once been as a son of the house. His aunt 
 and two youngest cousins were rabid secession- 
 ists, and during the last months of his wife's 
 life had treated her with a coldness as marked 
 as their former intimacy. Only Ally had clung 
 to her to the last, like a good, loving sister, and 
 been true to her memory. 
 
 The cottage looked desolate enough as 
 Browning approached it. He had grown a 
 little accustomed to the loss of his wife's tender 
 greeting, but Lulu's joyous welcome and sweet 
 kisses had never been wanting before. He 
 almost expected to see her now, with her light 
 footsteps and sunny curls, running from the 
 piazza to meet him. It was the first time within 
 his recollection he had ever alighted to open 
 his own gate. Usually half-a-dozen sable chil- 
 dren had rushed from the cabins at his approach, 
 equally happy to catch a word or a penny 
 from the indulgent master. "Would they be 
 better off now, " he asked himself, " in their
 
 86 THE BROWNINGS. 
 
 new condition of freedom ? " He hoped so, but 
 feared otherwise. It was an experiment a 
 dangerous one, he thought, too for the African. 
 
 A well known bark interrupted his reverie, 
 and Zack bounded forth to meet him with such 
 expressions of joy as brought tears to his eyes. 
 He tied Billy in the stable, then walked to the 
 house, caressing the dog as he went. 
 
 Lulu's little basket was on the piazza, with 
 something within wrapped carefully. He un- 
 folded the napkin, and found a nicely broiled 
 bird, a piece of corn-cake, and a sheepshead, to 
 which was attached a yellow leaf, pencilled in 
 Teenah's rude letters, " Lulu sends papa a fish 
 she hooked in de creek." 
 
 Browning had scarcely tasted food since 
 Christmas morning. He had refrained, not from 
 the want of it, but from a sense of loathing. 
 The bird and fish, and, more than all, Lulu's 
 sweet little message, now acted as appetizers. 
 He placed them on the uncleared Christmas 
 table, brought a bottle of claret from the vault, 
 and sat down to his solitary meal.
 
 THE BROWNINGS. 87 
 
 For the first time he noticed Aunt Chrissy's 
 rude attempts at decoration. Branches of cedar, 
 pine, and holly were green in" the windows, and 
 great boughs of pomegranate, with their droop- 
 ing scarlet bells, hung from the ceiling. There 
 were two or three vases of flowers on the table, 
 but, although withered, it was evident that the 
 inartistic hand of the faithful Chrissy had no 
 part either in their selection or arrangement. 
 Only the child Teenah had thus caught her 
 mistress's art of blending hues. Those half- 
 withered flowers bore his thoughts away to his 
 lost love. It was almost a pleasure to him now 
 to think that her feet were straying amid the 
 flowers that grow in the fields of immor- 
 tality. 
 
 Only the Christmas before, he remembered 
 she told him, " To be with Christ would be bet- 
 ter even than the celebration of His blessed 
 advent." He did not understand her then, but 
 thought some cloud was resting on her mind. 
 Now he knew it was not a cloud, but the sun- 
 shine of glory ; a foretaste of the fulness of
 
 OS THE BROWNINGS. 
 
 joy and rest which remain for the saints of the 
 Lord. 
 
 "Blessed are the dead which die in the 
 Lord. 
 
 " They shall hunger no more, neither thirst 
 any more ; neither shall the sun light on them, 
 nor any heat. For the Lamb which is in the 
 midst of the throne shall feed them, and shall 
 lead them unto living fountains of water ; and 
 God shall wipe away all tears from their 
 eyes. 
 
 "There shall be no more death, neither 
 sorrow nor crying ; neither shall there be any 
 more pain, for the former things are passed 
 away."
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THAT evening little Lulu's basket was filled 
 with oranges and cakes, and old Zack sent 
 forth again on his now well known way. His 
 master would gladly have retained the faithful 
 creature, but he had no other messenger, and 
 Lulu's comfort and happiness were more to 
 him than any other consideration. But for 
 her his own life would have been to him of 
 little value, bereft as it was of everything that 
 makes life desirable. No star of hope gleamed 
 for him in the misty future. He could discern 
 no light of peace for his rent and distracted 
 country. " Greek had met Greek " in terrible 
 conflict, and rivers of kindred blood must 
 flow. War appeared to him a relic of barba- 
 rism. He would not fight willingly, and, if 
 12
 
 90 THE BROWNINGS. 
 
 forced to do so, never on the side which he 
 regarded as wrong. 
 
 That night passed quietly. The next morn- 
 ing he armed himself, and went out as he had 
 been accustomed to do since the warning was 
 given him that his services were required in 
 the Confederate army. A press-gang had 
 already taken one man from the county as 
 adverse to the rebel cause as himself. He 
 would elude it if possible ; if not, his purpose 
 was fixed to resist unto death. 
 
 All that day he passed in the forest, shoot- 
 ing nothing, though game was abundant. At 
 nightfall he found a shelter, where he re- 
 mained until nearly midnight, then sought his 
 desolated home again. 
 
 Softly as his footsteps fell on the sandy 
 paths, they aroused a watchful listener, and 
 before he reached the cottage door Tim was 
 standing on the piazza, to meet him. The 
 unexpectedness of this meeting startled him 
 for a moment, and he cocked his pistol. 
 
 " Don't shoot, Mar's Alfred ! Nobody yer
 
 THE BROWNINGS. 91 
 
 but Tim. De coast am clar for de rest of de 
 night sure. You 'scaped 'urn." 
 
 " Escaped whom, Tim?" 
 
 "De 'criiitin' sargent and his no-account 
 trash. I 'spected dey might be round some- 
 whars, and got anodder permit to go and see 
 Rosa." 
 
 " Have they been here to-night ? " 
 
 "Just gone, Mar's Alfred." 
 
 " Where were you, Tim? " 
 
 " Hid under de peazzar steps. I come yer 
 before dark, and didn't like to go way without 
 seem' you. Was feared you might hab 
 trouble agin and need one ob Tim's big club. 
 Wouldn't mind shakin' daylight out ob dat 
 sort ob white trash no more'n Zack minds 
 shakin' 'possum. Hearn ebery word dey 
 said, Mar's Alfred! Dey's powerful full ob 
 patrotism, and want you mighty bad to help 
 drive dem dar abolishoners way from de coast." 
 
 " Who were they ? " 
 
 "Didn't know 'em, sir. Ony two, tree 
 Mar's Fred's grillas wid 'em. Dey talk like
 
 92 THE BROWNINGS. 
 
 dey's great men somewhar. One ob de grillas 
 said dey might as well finish up de job de 
 boys begin Christmas night; but de yaller- 
 striped man said, ' 'Twould neber do to 'stroy 
 de trap afore dey cotch de rat. Dey be sartin' 
 to find him in't some time, and cotch him too, 
 and make a cap'en on him.' Dey gwine to 
 set a watch for you to-morrow, Mar's Alfred, 
 and ebery day." 
 
 Browning was silent for a few minutes, 
 then said, "I wish to make Cousin Ally a 
 present of Daisy, Tim. It was her father's 
 first gift to Miss Ellen, and I know she will 
 like the gentle creature for her sake. Her sad- 
 dle, bridle, and whip are in the stable loft." 
 " Yis, sir ! I lead, her home wid me." 
 " And, Tim, there is one thing more. If 
 you get time, or happen to be going that way, 
 just tell Aunt Chrissy not to get uneasy about 
 me, but to wait patiently until she sees or hears 
 something further. My business in Florida 
 may detain me some little time. You may 
 tell her to hope for good news."
 
 THE BROWNINGS. 93 
 
 Browning then threw himself upon his bed, 
 and was soon, sleeping soundly and peacefully. 
 At early dawn he was awakened by the faith- 
 ful Tim. 
 
 " Mar's Alfred, 'tis time you is up and gwine. 
 I've done saddled Daisy, and Billy too. Dar's 
 hot coffee in de kitchen ! I make it strong to 
 keep me wake." 
 
 "I thought you went home hours ago, 
 Tim!" 
 
 " Didn't go home, sir ! Couldn't leave you, 
 Mar's Alfred. 'Fraid you sleep too long, and 
 git cotched. Promised Miss Ally to keep 
 good look for you." 
 
 " Go bring me the largest saddle-bags ! I 
 may need some changes of clothing." 
 
 Before it was fairly light, the doors of Rose 
 Cottage were locked fast, the stables empty, 
 and the master on his way to the nearest ford. 
 
 It was not the first time Billy had swum the 
 boundary river, and he plunged in without a 
 fear, and in a few minutes was shaking the 
 water from his flanks on the Florida shore.
 
 94 THE BR WNINGS. 
 
 "Farewell for the present to Georgia mis- 
 rule ! " exclaimed browning. " I am an alien 
 until better times. Whenever the hour comes 
 that I can strike boldly for my native State, 
 if God spares my life, I will stand amid her 
 loyal sons. But the rod of the usurper must 
 first be broken."
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 WHILE the fugitive was riding leisurely 
 towards Jacksonville, little Lulu and Teenah 
 were trying their best to catch him some fine 
 fish. Uncle Dick had taken plenty of mullet 
 in his net the day before, but the children 
 believed what Browning had written in the 
 little note which he put in Zack's basket 
 that the fish relished much better because Lulu 
 caught it. 
 
 After angling some time unsuccessfully, 
 they ' went to another place where the water 
 was stiller and deeper. Teenah held the line 
 very steadily, and presently a large perch began 
 to nibble at the fiddler upon the hook. The 
 fiddler is a very minute species of crab, found 
 in great abundance on the Southern sea-coast, 
 as well as on the margins of creeks and rivers
 
 96 THE BROWNINGS. 
 
 where the tide water sets back. There is no 
 bait of which perch and sheepshead are so fond. 
 The mullet is' not caught with a hook, as it 
 never bites. It is a species of sucker, and has 
 to be drawn in a seine or net. 
 
 ,"Look! look! " exclaimed Lulu, in a whis- 
 per. " One, two, three fat sheepshead coming 
 to drive away the perch. They all want fid- 
 dler for breakfast." 
 
 Teenah began to draw in the line. 
 
 "Dat perch is fairly hooked, Lulu! Soft, 
 now ! pull steadily. 'Tis a beauty." 
 
 In a few minutes more, one of the sheepshead 
 was lying with the perch in their basket, and 
 they were delighted. Lulu said those were a 
 plenty for one morning, and Zack should carry 
 them to papa as soon as Aunt Chrissy could 
 Sress and broil them. 
 
 So the children ran joyfully back to the 
 cabin, and Aunt Chrissy baked a fresh corn- 
 cake in the ashes and broiled the fish. Then 
 Zack was started off, with many loving mes- 
 sages from Lulu to darling papa.
 
 THE BROWNINGS. 97 
 
 It takes but little to make or mar the happi- 
 ness of childhood, and all that day Lulu went 
 around as happy as any bird, thinking of her 
 father's pleasure at sight of old Zack and the 
 basket. 
 
 When night came, and Teenah had heard 
 her little prayer, and drawn the white mosquito 
 net around her bed, she said: "Good night, 
 Teenah ! Zacky will be back in the morning. 
 Wake me early." 
 
 The dog did not come. When Lulu awoke, 
 her first inquiry was for him. Aunt Chrissy 
 said: 
 
 " Don't fret, chile, about it. De ole dog will 
 be sure to come some time wid plenty of 
 oranges for Honey." 
 
 Lulu could not be persuaded to go into the 
 pine woods for flowers that morning, nor down 
 to the creek to fish, for fear she would miss 
 Zack ; and when she had eaten her dinner, and 
 taken her customary nap, and he did not come, 
 she was ready to cry for disappointment. 
 
 Teenah said they would go and meet him. 
 13
 
 98 THE BROWNINGS. 
 
 So all the afternoon they lingered in the 
 paths they knew he would take ; but when the 
 sun went down they had to go back to the 
 cabin without him. 
 
 Uncle Dick felt very sorry for Lulu. He 
 took her upon his knee, wiped away her tears, 
 and said, "he 'spected Mar's Alfred wanted 
 Zack hisself to go huntin' wid him, and keep 
 off de wicked bars and tiger-cats." Then when 
 she was soothed he sang over and over, 
 " Boun' fur de kingdom, will you go to glory 
 wid me ? " until she fell asleep and forgot her 
 grief. 
 
 Two days more passed, and Zack had not 
 been seen at the cabin. Aunt Chrissy shook 
 her head ominously when she thought no one 
 saw her, and scolded Uncle Dick every time 
 lie ventured to hint at anything being wrong. 
 Lulu never spoke another word about the dog, 
 but asked a great many questions about bears 
 and tiger-cats, and whether they lived in the 
 swamps. 
 
 The third night, after she was asleep, foot-
 
 THE BEOWNINGS. 99 
 
 steps were heard approaching the cabin. 
 Uncle Dick ventured out cautiously, and was 
 delighted to find Tim, who had not been able 
 to fulfil his promise sooner. He had a bag of 
 sweet potatoes on his back, and a small sack 
 of hominy in his arms, and came puffing and 
 panting under the double burden. 
 
 " Come in yer wid ye ! " said Aunt Chrissy, 
 overjoyed at sight of a human being in their 
 solitude. " De poor chile is sleepin' thar like 
 a lamb. How is all ? " 
 
 "De cottage am standing, Chrissy, but de 
 rest am mostly burned clean and clar." 
 
 " How is young Massar ? " 
 
 " Mar's Alfred done gone away to 'scape de 
 press-gangers. Don't 'stress yourself so 'bout it. 
 He tole me fur to tell you dar'd be good news 
 fur you 'fore long. Keep quiet and pray de 
 Lord." 
 
 Tim then recounted, in his own quaint 
 fashion, all that had occurred since the night 
 they left the plantation, not forgetting his part 
 in the deadly conflict with the guerillas.
 
 100 THE BROWNINGS. 
 
 It was a picture worthy of a painter, that 
 rude cabin away in the lonely forest, with the 
 dark group within, clustered together in one 
 corner, as seen by the dim light of a pine-knot 
 torch which old Dick held in his trembling 
 hand. The little bed, with its white curtain 
 festooned every day with fresh flowers, was 
 altogether in shadow. Teenah had forsaken 
 her blanket at Lulu's feet and joined the group. 
 Tim sat there hour after hour answering all 
 the questions of the old people, and promising 
 to keep them informed of every event of in- 
 terest in the future. 
 
 Teenah asked but one question, whether her 
 master took Zack with him ? When informed 
 he did not, she said, " If the guerillas had 
 killed him, it would almost break Lulu's 
 heart." 
 
 Tim said he would go back by way of the 
 cottage and see if he could find him; but there 
 was no necessity for his doing so. While they 
 were speaking they heard a scratch at the door 
 of the cabin, followed by a low howl. Dick
 
 THE BR WRINGS. 101 
 
 said it was a black wolf; but Teenah's ears 
 were not deceived. 
 
 '"Tis ole Zack hisself!" she said joyfully. 
 " Open quick ; he may be hurt ! " 
 
 Uncle Dick was still afraid, but Tim opened 
 the door, and the dog entered silently with his 
 .basket in his mouth. He made no demon- 
 strations of joy when Teenah threw her arms 
 around him and caressed him, but put down 
 his basket, and stretched himself out as if 
 quite exhausted. 
 
 " Poor ole fellow ! He is starved," Aunt 
 Chrissy said, and went for a piece of corn- 
 cake. 
 
 He would not eat, but licked Teenah's hands 
 and cried mournfully. They thought he was 
 hurt, but on examination found neither wound 
 nor bruise. 
 
 " Let me look in his basket," said Teenah, 
 holding it up to the light of the pine-knot. 
 " Everything is just as we sent it. Nothing 
 is de matter ob him, ony he wants to tell us he 
 couldn't find his master."
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 TEENAH was right. Three whole days Zack. 
 lingered around the premises, sometimes lying 
 at his old watch-post on the piazza, sometimes 
 going to the empty stables or barking at the 
 kitchen door ; but he could nowhere find the 
 object of his search, no one to caress him as 
 usual, or give him food. When quite exhaust- 
 ed with fasting, he took up his basket again, 
 and returned to the cabin. It was very fortu- 
 nate that Tim was there before him, otherwise 
 his coming would have occasioned serious 
 alarm for the safety of the beloved master. 
 
 When the dog had rested awhile, Teenah 
 offered him food again. He ate but little, 
 then went and lay down before Lulu's bed, 
 where she discovered him in the morning as 
 soon as she awoke. But Zack was not happy.
 
 THE BROWNINGS. 103 
 
 He would only follow the children silently 
 when they called him, liking better to lie in 
 the shadow of the cabin. Teenah told Lulu, 
 if they could only make him understand her 
 father was safe, he would be as lively as ever. 
 
 Many long days passed with no change and 
 little interest, except an occasional night visit 
 from Tim, who brought the old folks tobacco 
 and meal, and told them all the news he could 
 learn. Four of Col. Mclntosh's negroes 
 had run away to the coast, and two of old 
 Gibb's. The Union folks had whipped the 
 Georgia and Florida boys at Fernandina, and 
 were blockading the St. John's below Jackson- 
 ville; all of which was very good news to 
 them, since the Unionists were believed to be 
 the particular friends of the darkeys. 
 
 " Ef we could ony hear from young massar 
 and de chilluns, 'twould be de greatest com- 
 fort," Aunt Chrissy said, as they sat smoking 
 together in the doorway one warm evening. 
 " Dar must be bad work on de coast, whar we 
 hear de big guns so much ! "
 
 104 THE BROWNINGS. 
 
 But weeks passed with no news either from 
 the master or his old servants. Lulu cried 
 herself to sleep every night, and Teena,h had 
 hard work to keep her cheerful through the day. 
 Uncle Dick became more and more querulous, 
 and while his wife scolded him as often as 
 ever, her own faith in the future began to grow 
 dim. Teenah was the only one habitually 
 cheerful; and she sang hymns, imitated the 
 birds, played with old Zack, or braided wreaths 
 for Lulu from morning until night. Their 
 books had all been left behind, except one lit- 
 tle Testament her mistress had given her and 
 taught her to read. She tried to teach Lulu 
 from this, but the child wanted her own pretty 
 books with bright pictures, and would riot 
 spell the words in the hard Testament. She 
 wanted her doll, too, and her games and puz- 
 zles, and begged Uncle Dick every day to carry 
 her back to her good home. It was getting 
 harder and harder to please the delicate child. 
 
 One warm day in early spring, when the 
 bay-flowers were budding in the thickets, and
 
 THE BROWNINGS. 105 
 
 the children had gone in quest of them, old 
 Zack, who had never been quite himself since 
 his last visit to the cottage, came bounding 
 into the cabin, where Aunt Chrissy sat smoking 
 alone. He barked in his old way, put his 
 paws upon her shoulders, then ran out of the 
 door as if to meet some one. Thinking it was 
 the children, she did not move or take her 
 pipe from her mouth until she saw a tall 
 figure standing in the open doorway. Had a 
 ghost appeared to her she could not have 
 stared more wildly ; and not until the appari- 
 tion spoke to her, and called her " Mother" did 
 she open her mouth. 
 
 " "Pis my own chile ! " she said then, rising 
 and'clasping him in her arms ; " my baby boy 
 dat I sent forth to freedom. He has come to 
 look at ole daddy and mammy once more." 
 
 " Come fur to take you 'way wid him," he 
 replied ; " de chilluns all dyin' to see thar 
 mother." 
 
 Aunt Chrissy shook her head, and said so- 
 lemnly : " My own flesh and blood mus'n't 
 14
 
 106 THE BROWNINGS. 
 
 tempt me to do wrong. I have de precious 
 charge to keep for poor young massar ! " 
 
 " Mar's Alfred sent me, and give me dis yer 
 far Teenah," taking a little note from the toe 
 
 of his brogan. 
 
 ^ 
 
 " Bress de Lord, and blow de conch for 
 Uncle Dick ! " Aunt Chrissy exclaimed, quite 
 beside herself with joy when she saw the note. 
 " Poor ole man ! how he has mourned for de 
 chilluns, and broke his heart for de chilluns' 
 chillun. Tell him softly, Bona, or he'll go 
 give way." 
 
 At the sound of the shell, Teenah and Lulu, 
 as well as old Dick, hurried home to the cabin. 
 They all understood it to be a return call, it 
 having been agreed, if anything happened, to 
 sound the conch. Great was their surprise to 
 meet Bona, and greater their joy when they 
 learned his errand. 
 
 Teenah was the only one who could read 
 writing, and it took her a long while to spell 
 out all the words of the note, while Lulu sat 
 down by her side, trying hard to be patient.
 
 THE BROWNINGS. 107 
 
 The two old folks were weeping together over 
 Bona, whom they never expected to meet 
 again. 
 
 " We must start to-night," Teenah said at 
 last. " We must take de warm blankets and 
 shawls, and something to eat on de journey, 
 dat's all we must take. We must travel in de 
 night, and stop in de daytime to rest. Three 
 nights will bring us into de Union lines. We 
 must all take de very best care of Lulu until 
 she gets to Mar's Alfred. Dat's all he said." 
 
 Bona said, while they were making ready, 
 he must have one more look at the old home, 
 and Uncle Dick whispered to him softly, so 
 Aunt Chrissy might not hear, " Ef he could 
 find it dar, to bring de ole fiddle wid him ; he 
 missed it so much, and de chilluns would want 
 to hear de ole tunes he used to play dem. He 
 left it on de kitchen shelf, ef de grillas hadn't 
 found it." 
 
 There was not much to do except to bake 
 what corn-meal they had into cakes for the 
 journey. The few potatoes left of Tim's sup-
 
 108 THE.BROWNINGS. 
 
 ply they would roast by the way as they 
 needed them. They had no coffee, and only a 
 handful of parched rice, which had been their 
 substitute. 
 
 The little bed was left in the corner, robbed 
 of its blankets and curtains. They could not 
 carry it so far. Beneath the bed, Teenah lifted 
 a loose board, and took out the little trunk her 
 master had intrusted to her care, and then they 
 were ready to go.
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THEY left the old cabin in the first dusk of 
 evening. Bona had a boat waiting for them 
 at the mouth of the creek, and they floated 
 down the river until towards morning, when 
 they landed on the Florida side. They re- 
 mained concealed in the woods during the day, 
 and at night set forward again on foot, keeping 
 their way by the light of the stars, through the 
 heavy pine forests, unmindful of fatigue or 
 danger. The third morning found them on a 
 low, sandy point on the banks of the St. John's. 
 Bona said, if no boat was waiting for them there, 
 they were to signal the first vessel that came 
 down the river. 
 
 Uncle Dick was afraid that by so doing they 
 would fall into the hands of the rebels ; but 
 Bona assured him no secesher dared be seen on
 
 110 THE BROWNINGS. 
 
 the river since the big fleet had gone up. All 
 the vessels that went up or came down were 
 Union. 
 
 After resting awhile, they built a fire on the 
 sand and cooked breakfast, for they were very 
 hungry after the long night-walk. They had 
 only one corn-cake left in their basket, and half- 
 a-dozen sweet potatoes ; but Bona went in search 
 of crabs and came back soon with plenty. 
 These were put into the fire with the potatoes, 
 and when roasted made an excellent meal. 
 
 Annt Chrissy steeped the last grains of her 
 parched rice, and said " thar store held out all 
 de way LIKE DE WIDOW CRUZA'S OIL ! We 
 shall cross dis Jurdin to-day, and to-morrow 
 be in de promised land." 
 
 Simple believers ! To the wandering Israel- 
 ite, Canaan was not more cloudless than that 
 untried land of freedom to Uncle Dick and 
 Aunt Chrissy. where Mar's Alfred and " de chil- 
 luns" awaited them. Snatches of triumphant 
 hymns burst from their lips, the sound of which 
 made little Lulu's heart leap for joy. They
 
 THE BRO WNINGS. Ill 
 
 were all children together as they sat there on 
 the sandy beach that morning, and Teenah's 
 was the only thoughtful-looking face among 
 them. She had no father to go to like Lulu, 
 no kindred ! She was free, but had no home. 
 Lulu's home would be hers for a time until she 
 no longer needed her tender care; and what 
 then ? Had the world a welcome for such as 
 she ? She was afraid of the great world, where 
 she must walk defenceless and helpless, and 
 sometimes felt, when her thoughts peered into 
 the misty future, as though she would like to 
 creep back to the grave of her beloved mistress, 
 and die. 
 
 It was only when the others were so full of 
 joy and hope that such thoughts possessed 
 Teenah's mind. When the cabin was dark, 
 and Uncle Dick and Aunt Chrissy most de- 
 spondent, when Lulu wailed all day for her 
 papa and the pretty home, then her songs were 
 loudest, for she was making music for others. 
 Now they were all too happy to heed whether 
 she were sad or joyful.
 
 112 THE BROWNINGS. 
 
 Teenah had a more reflective mind than most 
 children, especially those of her own class. 
 Whether she had any memories earlier than 
 her memories of Rose Cottage is uncertain. 
 Sometimes she used to tell Aunt Chrissy 
 she saw a country in her sleep, warmer and 
 brighter than theirs, where the people were all 
 black, and wore much gold. Some one waved 
 palm-leaves over her there, just as she waved 
 a fan over Lulu when she put her to sleep. 
 
 Aunt Chrissy told her it was a dream. It 
 may be her lonely childhood favored such 
 dreams, and that her natural disposition in- 
 clined her to solitude, otherwise she would 
 more frequently have been found joining the 
 wild sports of the plantation children. The 
 many hours she spent with her mistress cer- 
 tainly increased the reflective tendency of her 
 mind, and the little knowledge which was im- 
 parted to her awakened the wildest thirst for 
 more. She had done all she could to instruct 
 Lulu, and she often queried whether, now she 
 was free, she might not be allowed to learn les-
 
 TEE BROWNINGS. 113 
 
 sons with her when she came to have books 
 and teachers. She knew well no slave-child 
 could be thus privileged. Teenah had no sus- 
 picion that her mistress had provided for her 
 education if she remained with Lulu. Had 
 she known it her tender care of the child could 
 not have been increased. 
 
 Breakfast had not long been eaten when a 
 little cloud of smoke was observed rising above 
 the river. Teenah was the first to notice it and 
 point it out to the others. They all said it was 
 a steamboat and must be coming down the 
 river, as no vessel had gone up since their ar- 
 rival at the point, nearly two hours before. It 
 was a long time getting in sight, and sometimes, 
 when the smoke disappeared for a moment, 
 they were ready to believe they had been mis- 
 taken, and that no boat was approaching. 
 Then the light vapory cloud would be seen 
 again nearer than before. 
 
 After awhile the heavy strokes of the en- 
 gine were heard, and the puffing of steam; 
 
 and soon a large three-masted vessel rounded a 
 15
 
 114 THE BROWNINGS. 
 
 point not far distant. It was unlike any boat 
 ever seen on the St. Mary's. Bona told them 
 it was a war- vessel and carried great cannon. 
 
 A white flag was fastened to Uncle Dick's 
 staff, and Bona held it up and shouted when 
 the gunboat drew nearer. Lulu was much 
 excited, holding fast to Teenah with one hand 
 while the other waved her little handkerchief, 
 as Aunt Chrissy directed. 
 
 " They mightn't be willin' to stop for no-ac- 
 count pussons like we are ! " she said, " but no 
 one would be hard-hearted enough to leave a 
 tender young chile like her." 
 
 The vessel gave signs of halting, and pretty 
 soon a boat was let down by ropes, and half-a- 
 dozen stout men jumped in and pulled for the 
 shore. It was no unusual thing for the gun- 
 boats, in their passage up and down the river, 
 to be hailed by fugitives, and their signals 
 were seldom unheeded. 
 
 It was not many minutes before the whole 
 party had reached the vessel, and were waiting 
 to climb up the steep sides. When the Cap-
 
 THE BROWNINGS. 115 
 
 tain saw Lulu, he came down the ladder into 
 the boat, took her in his own arms very ten- 
 derly, and returned to the vessel with her. Old 
 Zack sprang after her at one leap, to the great 
 amusement of the sailors, who were looking on. 
 
 " Please help Teenah, now !" Lulu said 
 naivety, addressing the Captain. " Teenah is 
 my nurse, and could never get up those bad 
 steps like Zacky." 
 
 Teenah was soon up the ladder at her side ; 
 then the Captain took them down into his 
 cabin, brought cologne to bathe Lulu's sun- 
 burnt cheeks, and rang for the steward to bring 
 them something nice to eat. The child's black 
 dress and artless story touched his feelings, and 
 he promised to help her find her papa when 
 his vessel reached Fernandina.
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 FERNANDINA is built on a low, sandy island 
 on the extreme north-eastern coast of Florida. 
 It was named from a wealthy Spanish resident, 
 Fernandez. The city is built on the eastern 
 or ocean side of the island of Amelia, and was 
 of little importance before the construction of 
 the peninsula railroad, which connects the At- 
 lantic with the Gulf-shore. Since that event it 
 has grown rapidly, and was, at the outbreak 
 of the rebellion, the principal entrepot for the 
 cotton, rice, and sugar of Eastern and Middle 
 Florida. After its occupation by the Union 
 forces, it became a point of some military im- 
 portance to the North. 
 
 The principal wharf of the town was 
 thronged' with men on the arrival of the 
 steamer from the St. John's ; soldiers, sailors, .
 
 THE BROWNINGS. 117 
 
 and civilians, Anglo-Saxon and African, fra- 
 ternizing in a common cause, and moved by 
 common curiosity. The Captain had taken the 
 children on deck again, and placed them in a 
 position where they could look over the ship's 
 sides and amuse themselves by observing ob- 
 jects on shore. Zack posted himself beside 
 them like a trusty sentinel, while Uncle Dick 
 and Aunt Chrissy, nearly dumb wijh astonish- 
 ment, stood leaning over the gunwale near by. 
 
 There was one person amid the crowd on 
 shore, who gathered in all these familiar objects 
 at a glance, and whose heart swelled with silent 
 thanksgiving at the sight. It was little Lulu's 
 father, waiting and watching for his child. 
 No vessel had gone up the river the day pre- 
 vious, otherwise he would have been at the 
 place appointed to meet them. But Bona was 
 trusty, and had followed his instructions to the 
 letter; and, when the vessel touched the pier 
 Browning's feet were among the first to cross 
 the plank. 
 
 The joy of the meeting may be better ima-
 
 118 THE BROWNINGS. 
 
 gined than described. Lulu laughed and cried 
 in her father's arms ; the two old people wept 
 like children at sight of Mar's Alfred, and 
 Bona grinned with pride and complacency at 
 the success of his adventure, while Zack barked 
 his joy in a most boisterous manner. Teenah 
 alone was silent and undemonstrative. With 
 kind words for others, whenever they had need 
 of them, she had never a syllable for the ex- 
 pression of her own joy or sorrow. Her emo- 
 tions appeared to have no natural outlet except 
 in singing. 
 
 After thanking the Captain for his kindness 
 to Lulu, Browning took his family to the quar- 
 ters he had provided for them in the city. A 
 number of the old plantation servants were 
 there, clinging to the master still, though free ; 
 others had gone to Port Royal and Beaufort in 
 search of employment. 
 
 A gentleman came to dine with them the 
 first evening in their new home. He was 
 dressed in the uniform of a Union officer, and 
 was greeted very warmly by Browning. His
 
 THE BROWNINGS. 119 
 
 first inquiry was for Lulu, who was soon pre- 
 sented by her father. 
 
 " Do you know this gentleman, Lulu ? " lie 
 asked. 
 
 She looked at him very earnestly, then at 
 her father and Teenah. 
 
 " Teenah knows him," she replied, " but I do 
 not ! I think he looks something like darling 
 mamma." 
 
 The stranger took her in his arms and kissed 
 her, too much overcome to speak. It was her 
 mamma's only brother her uncle John, whom 
 she had seen but once, and that more than 
 two years before. 
 
 Teenah recognised him at once, as her coun- 
 tenance testified. He recollected her, too, and 
 had a kind word for his sister's favorite. 
 
 Hunter entered the service with the first vo- 
 lunteers from his native State, and had been 
 advanced in rank from Lieutenant to a Major. 
 The accidental meeting of the brothers-in-law 
 at Fernandina was a surprise and pleasure to 
 both. For nearly a year they had heard no-
 
 120 THE BROWNINGS. 
 
 thing of one another, all communications ceas- 
 ing at the commencement of hostilities. The 
 tidings of Mrs. Browning's death had not 
 reached her home in New Hampshire, al- 
 though her last letter had prepared them for 
 the event. 
 
 They remained in Fernandina two months ; 
 then when the weather grew warmer, too warm 
 for health or comfort, Browning yielded to the 
 importunity of his wife's friends and took Lulu 
 and Teenah North. 
 
 The children were delighted with the rugged 
 rocks, green fields, and blossoming orchards, 
 and were soon content to remain amid the 
 grand old mountains which they never were 
 weary of gazing upon. They had seen nothing 
 like them in their own summer land. 
 
 Teenah was more than contented. You had 
 but to see her each morning dressing Lulu, 
 gathering up their books in a pretty green 
 satchel, then singing on her way to school, to 
 know she was happy. She was truly happy, 
 for she was drinking from the fount of
 
 THE BROWNINGS. 121 
 
 knowledge for which she had long been thirst- 
 ing. 
 
 The children are still at school together, and 
 are making rapid progress. Lulu has not yet 
 learned to write plainly ; but as often as her 
 father receives one of Teenah's well composed 
 and neatly written letters, he affirms, " She is a 
 genius, and shall be sent to Oberlin yet, where 
 she will be more fully prepared to become a 
 teacher to her own emancipated race." Should 
 this ever happen, we will tell our young read- 
 ers about it in another little story. 
 
 16 
 

 
 LUCY LEE; 
 
 OR, 
 
 ALL THINGS FOR CHRIST.
 
 LUCY'S KIDE WITH THE DOCTOK.
 
 LUCY LEE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 IN a small cottage farm-house, up among the 
 Green Mountains of Vermont, lived Lucy Lee. 
 Though a little girl, she was the oldest of a 
 whole group of brothers and sisters. There 
 were Harry, Charley, Ruth, and Hetty, who was 
 still in the cradle. Her parents, though quite 
 intelligent people, were by no means rich. 
 Like most of the farmers of New England with 
 growing families, they were obliged to get their 
 living by the "sweat of the brow," or, in other 
 words, by constant, persevering toil. 
 
 Almost as soon as Lucy could walk she was
 
 126 LUCY LEE. 
 
 taught to be useful. She could dust chairs 
 after her mother had been sweeping, rock the 
 cradle while she made bread and cakes, and do 
 a great many other things before she had learned 
 to spell her own name. The neighbors thought 
 her an uncommon womanly child, and held her 
 up as an example to their own more thought- 
 less, or less dextrous little daughters. Her 
 mother acknowledged her handiness, though 
 often complaining of her want of life and 
 vivacity. She said: " Although Lucy always 
 performed her tasks well, and never did any 
 mischief, somehow she wasn't winsome, like 
 most children. She wanted to see her chirper, 
 and do things as if her mind was upon them, 
 and not off in the clouds, or somewhere else, 
 nobody knew where." 
 
 With four little ones younger than herself 
 to be cared for, Lucy, at eight years old, was 
 scarcely thought of as a child, with a child's 
 yearnings for tenderness and affection, and 
 with a child's need, too, of pastime and refresh- 
 ment. She had never cared for play, after 

 
 LUCY LEE. 127 
 
 the common manner of childhood ; crockery- 
 houses and rag dolls were far more irksome to 
 her than the little living things she was called 
 upon to watch over continually. She loved her 
 brothers and sisters dearly, yet there were 
 times when their incessant clatter and cries 
 seemed more than she could bear. They 
 deafened her to her own thoughts, so she could 
 not hear the voice of the spirit within, whose 
 soft whispers were her solace in every grief and 
 discouragement. Sometimes when very weary 
 she would run away to the river-bank, and 
 hide among the willows until she felt soothed 
 and calmed. Then, in a tone that sounded liko 
 the gurgle of the waters or the warbling of 
 birds, she often repeated the sweet hymns she 
 learned at the Sabbath-school, or thought of 
 the wonderful story of the Babe of Bethlehem, 
 who was born in a manger and died upon 
 the cross. Lucy knew that story in all its 
 painful and affecting details, and sometimes 
 told it to her little brothers, and bade them be 
 gentle and good like the child Jesus. The
 
 128 LUCY LEE. 
 
 hymn of the shepherds was the lullaby she 
 loved most to sing while rocking her little sis- 
 ter's cradle, and Harry and Charley could sing 
 with her : 
 
 " Cold on his cradle the dew-drops are shining ; 
 Lone lies his head with the beasts of the stall : 
 Angels adore him, in slumbers reclining, 
 Maker and Monarch and Saviour of all." 
 
 Lucy's home was in a wild spot, shut in on 
 all sides by hills and mountains. Old " Ascut- 
 ney " reared its bald head to the north, the 
 rugged " Hawk " lay to the west, while peak 
 after peak, whose names she did not know, 
 stretched southward as far as the eye could 
 reach. 
 
 Almost every child likes to gaze upon 
 mountains, and watch the clouds and mists 
 playing around their tops. Even Lucy's two 
 little brothers loved to watch the giant white 
 cloud-forms, to see whether they would rise up 
 in the air or fall to the ground again, for their fa- 
 ther had told them to look for fine weather when 
 the white mist struggled upwards. But to Lucy
 
 LUC7 LEE. 129 
 
 the mountains were sublime, solemn mysteries. 
 She never looked upon them without a feeling 
 of longing and restlessness and pain. Some- 
 times they made her think of the great tem- 
 ples she read about in the Bible, with the in- 
 cense smoking upon their altars, and thronged 
 with white-robed ministers. Again they were 
 only barriers, shutting out the narrow valley 
 in which she lived from a sight of the great 
 world. At such times she longed exceedingly 
 to stand upon their tops and get a glimpse be- 
 yond. In one of these moods she asked so 
 many questions, and manifested so much curi- 
 osity, that her father promised to take her some 
 day to the summit of the highest, that she 
 might see for herself, and be satisfied. 
 
 Lucy had never been any further from the 
 cottage than the parish church, which lay up 
 the valley a little more than two miles away, 
 and her father's promise made her heart as light 
 as a bird's. She thought of it days, and dream- 
 ed about it nights, until, one fine, clear, au-: 
 
 tumn morning, she saw the grey pony harnessed 
 17
 
 130 LUCY LEE. 
 
 to the old yellow wagon, and heard her father 
 call her to put on her things quickly for a ride. 
 She was ready in a few minutes, and climbing 
 joyfully over the pile of bags which Mr. Lee 
 was going to drop at the grist-mill on the way. 
 It was Lucy's first ride for pleasure. 
 
 Pretty soon after leaving the village, the 
 narrow road began to wind upwards, and kept 
 winding higher and higher, until Lucy began 
 to think they must be nearing the clouds. 
 The grey pony went forward steadily and pa- 
 tiently until they gained the summit, and then 
 his master dropped the lines, and bade him 
 rest. 
 
 Lucy was wholly unprepared for the extent 
 and grandeur of the prospect which burst upon 
 her ; but not a single exclamation fell from 
 her lips as her father pointed out by the white 
 steeples town after town, and then showed her 
 in the distance Monadnock and Holyoke apd 
 Torn, whose tops seemed resting on the skies. 
 The Connecticut wound like a silver ribbon 
 through its beautiful green valley, until away
 
 LUCY LEE. 131 
 
 to the south it looked only like a little thread 
 of sunshine. They lingered some time before 
 the horse's head was turned homeward, for Mr. 
 Lee from his boyhood had loved the moun- 
 tain-tops, and for many years had not beheld 
 them in their autumnal splendor before. 
 
 Lucy wept herself to sleep that night with- 
 out knowing whether for joy or sorrow. Her 
 father said she had got tired and was 'nervous; 
 her mother that she had better have stayed 
 at home and tended the baby, as her head was 
 too full of notions before. 
 
 Mrs. Lee was a plain practical woman, and 
 knew very little about the world of imagi- 
 nation. Her child might "see visions and 
 dream dreams," but certainly she did not in- 
 herit the inclination from her mother, whose 
 organ of ideality had never grown to visible 
 size. God's mountains were simply moun- 
 tains to her, built up of dark rocks, and covered 
 with dwarf cedars and scraggy pines. Why 
 her husband should talk so foolishly about them 
 to the children, she could not well understand.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Lucy had never been to school. There was 
 no school nearer than the village, and that was 
 a long way for a little girl to walk, especially 
 without company. When Harry was four 
 years old, they commenced a term together ; 
 but in less than a week the little fellow gave 
 out, then school was given up altogether. Mr. 
 Lee taught Lucy some things himself when he 
 had time, and she repeated his lessons to the 
 younger children. She was an apt scholar, 
 and with what help she could get by asking 
 questions made more rapid proficiency than 
 some children with the best of instruction. 
 With time and books, she would have kept 
 pace with any child of her own age ; but be- 
 tween the washing of dishes, dusting, and 
 tending baby, Lucy had seldom an hour to
 
 LUCY LEE. 133 
 
 herself, though she lived in a world of her 
 own, into which no one had ever entered. It 
 was a world of thoughts and feelings ; a 
 strange, perplexing world for so young a child. 
 She could never bring her mind to speak of 
 it, not even when chided by her mother, as 
 she often was, for stupidity or absent-minded- 
 ness. A nature like hers, so keenly alive to 
 every breeze that blows upon it, is never too 
 young to feel and know if it is misunderstood 
 or misinterpreted. 
 
 But pleasanter days were dawning for Lucy. 
 At another farm-house, about half a mile from 
 theirs, a stranger lady was about to open a 
 school, and Lucy, Harry, and Charley were 
 going. Little Ruth was too small, and baby 
 was not out of the standing-stool. The lady 
 had been for some years a teacher at the West, 
 and had come to spend a season with her sister 
 among the mountains of Yermont. Finding 
 many children in the neighborhood, her sister's 
 among the number, too young to walk to the 
 village school, she offered to instruct them 
 
 -
 
 134 LUC7 LEE. 
 
 through the winter, and her offer was hailed 
 with great joy by their parents. 
 
 As soon as Thanksgiving, was over, the 
 
 school commenced. About a dozen little ones, 
 i 
 between the ages of four and ten, gathered daily 
 
 around dear Miss Willis, one of the kindest, 
 best teachers who ever undertook to guide 
 simple feet in the paths of knowledge. There 
 was no ruggedness nor difficulty which her 
 gentle patience did not soon render plain and 
 pleasant. She taught them a great many 
 things not found in their books ; told them 
 pleasant stories to illustrate their lessons and 
 make them remember them, and strove in every 
 way to do them good and make them happy. 
 Every young heart opened unconsciously to 
 the new teacher, showing her what pleasures 
 and hopes and griefs had already entered those 
 little throbbing lite-chambers ; and for each 
 and all she had some kind word of encouraging 
 sympathy. 
 
 Though devoted to her pupils alike, none 
 of them interested Miss Willis like Lucy Lee,
 
 LUCY LEE. 135 
 
 the modest, motherly child, to whom all the 
 younger ones in school looked for care and di- 
 rection. She had never met a child of more 
 marked intellectual character, or one who 
 manifested as plainly the tastes and tempera- 
 ment of genius. What could she do for such 
 a shrinking sensitive nature, whose powers as 
 yet were only like the feeble wings of an un- 
 fledged bird calling for brooding tenderness 
 and cherishing love to make them grow strong, 
 and aid them to unfold rightly ? Miss Willis 
 knew well how many such, natures, chilled by 
 adverse circumstances, never expand to full 
 size ; which, for ever fluttering, can never 
 mount up into the higher atmosphere of their 
 kindred. 
 
 Lucy knew nothing of what was so often in 
 her teacher's mind. She knew only that she 
 never laughed at her strange questionings, or 
 chided her for not thinking and talking about 
 such things as other children did. So, as she 
 became better acquainted, her heart opened un- 
 consciously, and revealed to her new friend
 
 136 LUCY LEE. 
 
 depths of thought and feeling which none had 
 discovered before. Often at recess, while string- 
 ing a boy's kite, or mending a ball, or showing 
 some little girl how to cut paper-roses, would 
 Miss Willis whisper a quaint story to Lucy 
 Lee, or repeat some old legend, which she 
 knew would recreate the young student more 
 than all the amusements which her compa- 
 nions loved. 
 
 Miss Willis's stories were very different 
 from the nursery tales, " Old Mother Hubbard," 
 " London Bridge," or " Jack's Bean," the only 
 stories Lucy had ever heard, except her favor- 
 ite Bible stories. She listened with rapt atten- 
 tion to the fanciful tales of " Undine " and of 
 " Echo," or of the beautiful sisters of " Hyas," 
 who wept themselves to stars for the loss of 
 their brother. The stories of "Iduna and her 
 Apples" and of " Bifrost," the "Kainbow 
 Bridge," which nearly every child reads about 
 now, were new to her and charmed her exceed- 
 ingly. They were something like the myths of 
 her own busy imagination.
 
 LUCY LEE. 137 
 
 Spelling, writing, grammar, geography, or 
 arithmetic, never wearied the little ones at 
 Miss Willis's school, though they studied 
 hard, and made rapid proficiency ; for intellec- 
 tual pastime was rightly blended with intellec- 
 tual labor. Teaching is one of the fine arts, 
 for which few are divinely gifted, though a 
 host of men and women enter upon it as un- 
 fitly as the mechanic artisan, who, with a dol- 
 lar-and-cent eye alone, should set up for a 
 Claude Lorraine. More delicate even than his 
 should be the teacher's touches, who draws on 
 a young child's heart lines for immortality. 
 Miss Willis was eminently endowed by nature 
 for her favorite pursuit. She had not only a 
 faculty to impart knowledge, but the principle 
 to leave no false impression on the minds of 
 her tender learners. What each budding na- 
 ture required for a vigorous unfolding was 
 her most earnest study, while her daily prayer 
 
 arose for heavenly counsel and direction. 
 18
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE winter among the mountains passed 
 delightfully with the little ones who attended 
 the farm-house school. Lucy, who had never 
 used a pen before, was soon able to write a 
 plain, pretty hand, and could analyse and parse 
 a sentence better than many an older gramma- 
 rian. Harry could travel anywhere on the 
 map of the United States with his eyes shut, 
 and tell the largest cities, the longest rivers, 
 and the highest mountains on the globe ; and 
 he could numerate as many figures besides 
 as the black-board would hold. The little 
 things who commenced at A B C were soon 
 reading about " Feeding the Old Hen" or doing 
 some other more wonderful feat, to' the asto- 
 nishment of their parents, who thought them 
 all prodigies.
 
 LUCY LEE. 139 
 
 No day was stormy enough to keep them 
 home peaceably. If the snow fell, and the 
 cold winds blew it up in heaps ever so high, 
 the great oxen could break through the drifts 
 and draw them on the wide sled safely to the 
 school-room door. The colder the day, the 
 warmer they knew would be their teacher's 
 greeting, and the better their chances for a 
 pleasant story at recess. 
 
 One cold, blustering January morning, the 
 young Lees carried an extra basket with them 
 to school. It was filled with corn popped 
 white as the Yermont snow-flakes. Miss 
 Willis was very fond of it, and the basket was 
 for her. She smiled as she took it, and told 
 them her next story should be an Indian Corn 
 Legend. 
 
 That very noon it was snowing and blowing, 
 so they could not play out of the house, and 
 the children reminded the teacher of her pro- 
 mise. She went and brought a portfolio, and 
 from a number of papers selected the follow- 
 ing, which she read :
 
 140 LUCY LEE. 
 
 Come around me, little children, 
 
 This stormy winter morn, 
 And I will tell you a story 
 
 About the Indian Corn 
 Which grew first up in heaven 
 
 (The story-tellers say), 
 Till the Master of all Spirits 
 
 Spoke thus to it one day : 
 
 " Go down to the earth, Mondamin 1 
 
 My children there lack food I 
 Grow tall and strong in the valleys, 
 
 And do the Redmen good. 
 They shall not hurt nor waste you, 
 
 But foster you with care ; 
 And plant in the spring-time only 
 
 Sufficient for one year." 
 
 Then dropped the good Mondamin, 
 
 Like dew, from heaven to earth : 
 And the Redmen danced new dances 
 
 In honor of his worth. 
 They praised his golden tresses, 
 
 And his form so tall and slim, 
 Till Mondamin loved the Redmen, 
 
 And the Redmen all loved him.
 
 LUCY LEE. 14:1 
 
 But one year the great Miamies 
 
 Forgot the Master's rule, 
 And left the stranger standing, 
 
 When all their sacks were full, 
 Within the open cornfield, 
 
 Where the idlers went each morn 
 To throw at one another 
 
 The broken ears of corn. 
 
 The Master of Life beheld them ! 
 
 And when his children went 
 To their winter hunt in the forests 
 
 Where deer abounded, He sent 
 Aside the point of each arrow, 
 
 And led in a weary plight 
 The empty-handed hunters 
 
 Back to their camp at night 
 
 An old man spake one morning, 
 
 And said : "I am weak, my son 1 
 For meat or broth I am fainting ! " 
 
 His son replied : "Not one 
 Of the oldest of our hunters 
 
 Can kill with bow or spear I 
 The Redman's God must be angry, 
 
 For the forests are full of deer."
 
 142 LUCY LEK 
 
 Next morn that same young hunter 
 
 Went forth again, to try 
 To kill some game for his father, 
 
 Who was old and ready to die. 
 All day he wandered vainly 
 
 'Mid herds he could not kill, 
 Till he lost his way hi the forest, 
 
 And came to a little rill 
 
 With a wigwam close beside it. 
 
 Quoth he : "I will rest to-night 
 Until morning lift the curtain 
 
 Of the Eastern House of Light ; 
 For I have no meat for my father 1 " 
 
 As his ateps to the lodge drew nigher, 
 He saw an old man sitting 
 
 With his back turned towards the fire. 
 
 " Grandfather, your child is weary ! " 
 
 The youthful hunter said. 
 " All day he has roved in the forest 
 
 All day he has tasted no bread ! 
 The little ones of his nation 
 
 And the aged cry for food. 
 But dull is the aim of the hunter, 
 
 While the doer run wild in the wood. 1
 
 LUCY LEE. 143 
 
 " My eon," said the old man, groaning, 
 
 " There is food in the kettle, you'll find : 
 Go satisfy your hunger, 
 
 And then I will speak my mind." 
 When the repast was over, 
 
 He opened his mouth, and said : 
 " 1 cruel and vain Miamies, 
 
 Whom I so long have fed ! 
 
 By them was my back-bone broken ! 
 
 By them was I bruised and torn, 
 And none said : ' ' Tis poor Mondamin, 
 
 The Spirit of the Corn! ' 
 But my cry went up to heaven ; 
 
 And the good Great Father said : 
 ' I will give to that nation famine 
 
 Till the living eat their dead! ' " 
 
 The hunter rose next morning 
 
 And went back to his clan, 
 Where every word lie repeated 
 
 Of that broken-backed old man. 
 And never since then at harvest 
 
 Has an Indian treated with scorn 
 The body of Mondamin, 
 
 The Spirit of the Corn.
 
 LUCY LEE. 
 
 The children were delighted with the " Corn 
 Legend," and asked so many questions about 
 the Indians, and whether they really believed 
 such queer things, that Miss "Willis hardly 
 knew how to answer them. She said many of 
 the Indian tribes believed the corn a sacred 
 grain, and that great famine would follow its 
 waste or abuse ; which was in a measure true, 
 as they depended upon it more than upon any- 
 thing else for their winter food. Every tribe 
 had some wonderful tradition respecting its 
 origin, similar to the one she had j ust read to 
 them. They would altogether make a large 
 book. The Indians had great respect and vene- 
 ration for their old traditions, she told them, 
 and would be far less likely to destroy the 
 cornfields of their enemies, Or waste their own 
 grain, if taught it was a spirit-gift, and under 
 the special protection of the " Master of 
 Life." 
 
 Then she talked with them a long time 
 about the customs of the Kedmen, some of 
 which are very beautiful, and others dreadfully
 
 LUCY LEE. 145 
 
 savage. Miss Willis had visited ' a number of 
 tribes in their own homes, and was acquainted 
 with their habits as well as with their tradi- 
 tionary stories. 
 
 When the clock struck one, the children 
 could scarcely believe an hour had passed so 
 quickly, and that the intermission was over. 
 Lucy asked permission to copy the Corn Legend 
 some time, and was promised that and other 
 legends besides. Then the scholars went to 
 their seats, and strove by their diligence and 
 good behavior to show that they were not 
 ungrateful for their teacher's love and kind- 
 ness. 
 
 19
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 NOT one of Miss Willis's scholars was glad 
 to feel the. warm breath of spring among their 
 native hills ; for with the spring they would 
 lose their beloved teacher. The winter, though 
 a very cold and stormy one, had seemed too 
 short to them all. Lucy grieved more than 
 the others in prospect of their loss, and often 
 asked herself what she could do when school 
 was over. She had learned a great deal in 
 one winter among other things, how much 
 there is to be learned which she had never 
 known about before Miss Willis came. Who 
 would direct her how to do, and what to do 
 first, when she was gone 'away ? Her mother 
 could not ; she had her hands full of labor, 
 and did not care much any way for the things 
 Lucy fancied most. Her father, who under-
 
 LUCY LEE. ' 147 
 
 stood her nature and disposition better, was 
 always at work providing for the daily bread 
 of his little flock, and had very little time to 
 question or instruct. If he couldn't give them 
 much education, he reasoned, they must ma- 
 nage to live without it as he had done ; but 
 food to eat and clothes to wear they must have 
 or die. How many such parents there are in 
 the world, with strength and energies all ex- 
 hausted in procuring the common, every-day 
 necessities of life, who have neither time to 
 attend to the wants of the immortal nature 
 nor means to satisfy its cravings ! Little do 
 children, whose paths are surrounded with lux- 
 uries, and who neglect to improve the privi- 
 leges lavished upon them, think how many 
 young hearts would be made rich with only 
 a small share of what they possess ! The very 
 books you so carelessly destroy, my little 
 friends, would have made Lucy Lee happy for a 
 long time ; and the lessons they contain would 
 have added to her life-long store of wisdom. 
 In Mr. Lee's house were only a Bible and a
 
 148 LUCY LEE. 
 
 psalm-book, a volume of Watts's lyric poems, 
 and a copy of Shakspeare, purchased when he 
 was a young man, and made his first and only 
 visit to New York. All of these Lucy had 
 read since she could spell out the first words, 
 and they had tinged with a warmer glow her 
 naturally poetic nature. Her father often said, if 
 a person had a Bible for Sunday, and a Shak- 
 speare for winter evenings, he had always read- 
 ing enough. 
 
 When the children wanted school-books, 
 they saved their nuts and sent them to market 
 with part of the winter apples, and the new 
 spelling-books, Testament, grammar, geogra- 
 phy, and arithmetic, seemed to them more than 
 compensation for their loss* Their father had 
 a slate, which was newly framed for them, and 
 so the children were fitted for school. Their 
 mother put thumb-marks into the new books 
 for their better preservation, for things pro- 
 cured with difficulty and self-denial are apt to 
 be cared for more than those which follow the 
 mere asking.
 
 LUCY LEE. 149 
 
 After Lucy had learned to write, Miss Willis 
 presented her with a neat blank book, in 
 which she might copy anything that pleased 
 her. Before spring she had written within it 
 several very pretty poems, and two or three 
 wild Indian legends, something like the one 
 in the last chapter. One of them was about a 
 little boy who was changed to a robin red- 
 breast on account of fasting too long. The 
 other was a story of a youth who wandered 
 away to the spirit-land to find the soul of his 
 dead sister. He found her and brought her 
 home in a gourd. Lucy often read over these 
 fanc.iful stories to herself, and sometimes to her 
 father and mother. Mr. Lee said they were 
 real Indian-like, and he wished Miss Willis 
 had more such ; but his wife thought there 
 wasn't a bit of sense to them, and wondered 
 how so good a teacher could be putting such 
 nonsense into children's heads. 
 
 The last day of school came soon. It was 
 the first of April, a pleasant, sunshiny day, 
 but none of the little ones felt like April fool-
 
 150 LUCY LEE. 
 
 ing as usual. Lucy shed many tears by the 
 way that morning, and her eyes were red when 
 she entered the school-room. Miss Willis felt 
 very sad as she went through the exercises for 
 the last time, not knowing whether she would 
 ever meet the dear children again in the world. 
 After the lessons were over, she talked to them 
 kindly and tenderly ; -bade them be good chil- 
 dren, and try to grow up good men and 
 women. She counselled them earnestly to 
 honor their parents ; to love one another ; and 
 above all, to love and fear God, their kind, 
 heavenly parent. She was going far from 
 them, and hoped never to hear a bad report of 
 any one of them. Then she knelt down, and 
 prayed that they might all be watched over 
 and protected, wherever their young feet might 
 wander on the uncertain journey of life, and 
 be gathered together again in the Saviour's 
 fold at the end of the way. 
 
 After giving to each some little token of re- 
 membrance, the pleasant school at the farm- 
 house was dismissed. When they had gather-
 
 LUCY LEE. 151 
 
 ed up their books, the children went one by 
 one for a last kiss, then ran home quickly to 
 show their respective gifts. 
 
 All but Lucy. She remained a little longer 
 with Miss Willis, who wished, to say some 
 things to her, which she could not say so well 
 in presence of the whole school. As soon as 
 the little ones were all gone, she sat down on 
 the bench beside her, and took her hand kind- 
 ly in her own. She was too much affected by 
 the child's half-smothered grief to speak at 
 first ; but when she did, her voice was' clear 
 and sweet as usual. 
 
 "I am very sorry to leave you," she said; 
 " but such things have to be, all through life. 
 I have been much interested in you, Lucy, and 
 shall be so still when we are separated. Con- 
 tinue to improve as you have done, my child." 
 
 " But I shall have no one to help me when 
 you are gone," interrupted Lucy, with sobs. " I 
 am afraid I shall never go to school again, or 
 learn anything more." 
 
 "You mustn't get discouraged, my dear.
 
 152 LUCY LEE. 
 
 You are a little girl yet, and have many years 
 to learn in. I have marked some lessons for 
 you to study by yourself in the history I gave 
 you this afternoon, and have written in a letter, 
 which you will find inside, some things I wish 
 you to think about. You can write to me 
 whenever you find any difficulty which you 
 cannot overcome, and I shall always feel 
 pleased to give you my opinion. I think, with 
 a little practice, you will find it very easy to 
 express your thoughts on paper. Have you 
 ever tried, Lucy ? " 
 
 " I have only written down the things you 
 gave me in my book." 
 
 " I will send you some more, Lucy ; and 
 you shall write how they please you. I have 
 another little present for you in my desk." 
 
 Miss Willis went and brought a small port- 
 folio filled with paper and envelopes. " It is 
 not a new one," she said ; "I have used it for 
 many years, but am sure you will not like it 
 the less on that account. You will find a card 
 of pens and some pencils in one part ; so you
 
 LUCY LEE. 153 
 
 will have everything handy when you wish to 
 write. Now, my dear, you must promise me 
 to do your best, and some day, perhaps, you 
 will come West and be a teacher ; or I should 
 not be surprised if you should write books for 
 children to read. You can do almost anything 
 you try, I know, Lucy. You recollect those 
 beautiful lines you copied, don't you ? 
 
 " ' Lives of great men all remind us 
 
 We may make our lives sublime ; 
 And departing, leave behind us 
 
 Footsteps on the sands of Time : 
 Footsteps that perhaps another, 
 
 Sailing o'er life's stormy main, 
 Some forlorn and shipwrecked brother, 
 
 Seeing, may take heart again 1 ' " 
 
 Miss Willis never spoke to Lucy Lee as to 
 most other children of her age ; for her 
 thoughts were not like those of ordinary chil- 
 dren. When she had done talking to her, 
 Lucy strove in vain for words to thank her for 
 
 all her kindness. Miss Willis read in her grate- 
 20
 
 154: 
 
 LUCY LEE. 
 
 ful looks and tearful eyes the expression she 
 could not utter, and with a last silent kiss 
 they parted.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 SCHOOL was over, and Miss Willis gone. 
 There were some dreary days among the 
 mountains that spring, days when winter 
 . seemed about to return with all its stormy fol- 
 lowers. Lucy found very little opportunity to 
 study, for they kept but one fire, and the chil- 
 dren were noisier, and more impatient of re- 
 straint, for the few days of sunshine they had 
 enjoyed. She had a little room up-stairs under 
 the cottage eaves, where she slept and kept her 
 few treasures. One rainy day her father made 
 her a small pine table, with a drawer in it for 
 her books and portfolio, that she might keep 
 them out of the way of the children. She 
 was more pleased with the simple arrangement 
 than many girls I have known with very rich- 
 ly furnished apartments. But it was, too cold
 
 156 LUCY LEE. 
 
 for her to sit there now, and, besides, her mother 
 had a good deal of knitting and sewing for her 
 when the house-work was done. So she 
 worked all day busy as a bee, thinking how 
 pleasant it would be when the long warm days 
 came, and she could find a little time for the 
 lessons Miss "Willis had marked out for her. 
 
 After the younger children were put to bed, 
 Lucy sometimes went for her history, and ask- 
 ed her father to read aloud, while her mother . 
 sewed, and she knit upon his long stockings. 
 This was very pleasant ; and Lucy, after listen- 
 ing to his reading, often went to bed to dream 
 of Christopher Columbus and his wanderings 
 from kingdom to kingdom to find some one 
 able and willing to help him go and make dis~ 
 coveries. One night she dreamed of going 
 herself to Queen Isabella, and begging she 
 would send the old man to look up the beauti- 
 ful new world beyond the ocean. The Queen 
 promised her, and Lucy awoke bewildered 
 with joy, to hear the rain pattering on the roof 
 of the little farm-house ainono: the mountains.
 
 LUCY LEE. 157 
 
 There was a wide difference betwixt her low, 
 dark chamber, and the great shining palace of 
 royalty through which she had been wander- 
 ing in a dream. She was very glad, however, 
 to think that Columbus had found his new 
 world, and that, safe in her little table drawer, 
 she had more than three hundred years of its 
 history. 
 
 But the evenings soon grew too short, and 
 her father too weary after a hard day's work, 
 to read any more. Lucy was very sorry, but 
 it could not be helped. 
 
 The mountain-tops lost their white caps of 
 snow, and there was less rain and more days of 
 sunshine. The children heard a bluebird sing- 
 ing one morning in the orchard, and it made 
 their pulses beat quicker, as the first bird- 
 song always does after a long winter of ice 
 and snow. The robins came soon after, and 
 chirped around the door and picked up the 
 crumbs. One of them began a nest in the old 
 lilac-bush, where there had been a nest every 
 year since the children could remember.
 
 158 LUCY LEE. 
 
 Lucy told her brothers what the Indians 
 thought the reason the redbreast was tamer than 
 other birds, and why it always loved to be 
 around human habitations. They were much 
 interested, and wished her to read the whole 
 story to them. So she went for her portfolio, 
 and sat down on the door-stone, in the sun, 
 and read the " Legend of the Kedbreast," just 
 as dear Miss Willis had given it to her. As 
 some of my young readers may like to know 
 what it was, I will write it down here for them 
 to read too : 
 
 LEGEND OP THE REDBREAST. 
 
 Many marvellous stories 
 
 Do the fanciful Redmen tell, 
 When the lodge-fires burn at evening, 
 
 And the wintry storms compel 
 From the hunt of the bear and the bison : 
 
 There is one I remember well. 
 
 I heard it not in the wigwam 
 
 In the midst of a dusky ring, 
 But away in the Northern forest 
 
 On a pleasant mom in spring,
 
 LUCY LEE. 159 
 
 "With robins singing around me, 
 And blossoms awakening. 
 
 There was once a Chippewa hunter 
 
 Prom youth bred up to the chase, 
 Who at length grew over-ambitious ; 
 
 And shadows fell dark on his face 
 As he marked how the men of the war-trail 
 
 Sat next to the chiefs in place. 
 
 Moody he went in the morning 
 
 To the forest with his spear ; 
 Moody he came at evening 
 
 And laid at his door the deer, 
 Till Wdsayah, " Light of the Wigwam," 
 
 Wept many a sorrowful tear. 
 
 A change had come over her hunter ; 
 
 She whispered the tale to none, 
 But folded her heart-strings closer 
 
 And fonder around her son, 
 The last of Wasayah's children, 
 
 Her delicate Wanbegoon.* 
 
 The boy was a marvel of beauty ; 
 
 But for boyhood too tender and fair. 
 His cheek was soft as a maiden's, 
 
 As silken and glossy his hair ; 
 
 * " Littie Blossom." Chippewa.
 
 160 LUCY LEE. 
 
 Not a child in the Chippewa country 
 Had ever so gentle an air. 
 
 There was light in the eye of the hunter, 
 
 And joy in his spirit again, 
 As he marked how his son grew in stature I 
 
 And he taught him the lore of his clan, 
 And called him Ne-gitch-e-dan-een, 
 
 " His brave little Warrior-man." 
 
 The suns rolled round in the heavens ; 
 
 The red boy was twelve years old, 
 Still timid and tender as ever, 
 
 Though so often his father had told 
 Him he never should grow up a hunter, 
 
 But a warrior bloody and bold. 
 
 The fasting days were approaching ; 
 
 Those days of highest esteem, 
 When the red youth seeth in vision 
 
 A destiny supreme, 
 And the paths of his life are appointed 
 
 By the spirit of his dream. 
 
 Then the hunter went forth one morning, 
 And built, with an air of pride, 
 
 A lodge of the fragrant birches 
 That grew by the river's side ;
 
 LUCY LEE. 161 
 
 While Wdsaydh, weeping, was weaving 
 The mat her love would provide. 
 
 That evening the voice of the father 
 
 Exhofted the lad to be strong ; 
 To quail not, nor faint like a woman ; 
 
 But the days of his fast to prolong 
 Till the voice of a powerful spirit 
 
 Should teach him the warrior's song. 
 
 Poor Ningwis, the gentle and yielding, 
 
 Gave promise his wish to fulfil ; 
 He watched the form of his father, 
 
 Till it vanished over the hill ; 
 Then lay down on his mat of green rushes, 
 
 With a meek and obedient will 
 
 But that summer night was so lonely ! 
 
 The sounds he had loved to hear 
 When sitting beside the wigwam 
 
 Grew terrible in his ear ; 
 The night-bird's song in the forest, 
 
 And the wolfs howl, made him fear. 
 
 The whippoorwill's cry was mournful, 
 
 The katydid's made him weep ; 
 But he called on the guardian spirits 
 
 That over the universe keep 
 21
 
 162 LUCT LEE. 
 
 Soft watches of love for the lonely I 
 Then quietly fell asleep. 
 
 Eight days, with no word of complaining, 
 The youth kept his torturing fafct ; 
 
 Poor Wasayah wept in her wigwam, 
 Loathing her own repast, 
 
 While Ningwis grew fainter and weaker ; 
 But he spake to his father at last: 
 
 " My dreams are not good, my father I 
 The spirit that cometh to me 
 
 Shows not the paths of the warriors ; 
 And this fasting is agony. 
 
 But give me a morsel this morning, 
 And I'll try it again for thee." 
 
 " Not yet, not yet ! " said the hunter, 
 " Or all will be lost that is won I 
 
 Have courage a little longer, 
 
 And the spirits will come, my son 1 
 
 The great ones who lead on the war-trail 
 Tour fasting will then be done 1 " 
 
 He covered his face with his blanket, 
 The depth of his anguish to hide. 
 
 Eleven days he fasted and famished, 
 When his sire stood again by his side,
 
 LUCY LEE. 163 
 
 " Pood ! food I " was all he could utter. 
 More gently his father replied : 
 
 " To-morrow I'll come with it early, 
 "While the light of the dawning is dim, 
 
 ' Tis the last dark night of your weakness, 
 Then cometh the victory-hymn I " 
 
 Alas ! for the morning and evening 
 Were getting alike to him! 
 
 A mist hung over his eyelids ; 
 
 His strength had forsaken him quite ; 
 And he lay like one passively dying ' 
 
 All the lone, long, sorrowful night ; 
 But a spirit came with the daybreak 
 
 And brought to the dark one light. 
 
 And with food to the lodge uext morning 
 
 The hunter impatiently sped ; 
 And lo 1 there poor Ningwis was sitting 
 
 Erect on his rush-woven bed, 
 Grey wings grown out of his shoulders, 
 
 And his breast all feathered and red. 
 
 " My son ! my son I do not leave me," 
 
 In anguish the father conjured ! 
 " Live in peace in the home of the hunter I " 
 
 The lad answered never a word,
 
 164 LUCY LEE. 
 
 But flew to the top of the wigwam 
 In the shape of a beautiful bird. 
 
 He sang as he went : " My change should not grieve you, 
 
 I am happier now, and I never will leave you I 
 
 I can give you sweet songs, for the bird is my brother, 
 
 The bird that watched over my slumbers when young, 
 
 And Ningwis each morning will sing to his mother 
 
 As he sits on the bough where his cradle was hung. 
 
 He can pick the red berries high- up on the tree, 
 
 And sing to the childreji, ' Pee-chee ! 0-pee-chee.' 
 
 He will faint not from weakness, nor groan under care : 
 
 "With his bed on the tree-top, his path in the air, 
 
 The meadows and mountains will furnish him food." 
 
 Thus ending his song, he flew off to the wood. 
 
 Such is the singular story 
 
 The fanciful Redmen tell, 
 When asked why 0-pee-chee, the redbreast, 
 
 Loveth men's haunts so welL 
 And the tawny children hear it 
 
 By the winter lodge-fire's blaze, 
 And tell it o'er on the prairies 
 
 In the pleasant strawberry days. 
 
 Every Indian youth, arriving at a certain 
 age, retires to some lonely spot to fast for his
 
 LUCT LEE. 165 
 
 guardian spirit. Sometimes he goes to the top 
 of a high hill or mountain, sometimes to the 
 forest, or to some lonely island in the waters, 
 where he waits for the coming of his life-guide. 
 Whatever object appears to him there be- 
 comes sacred through all the years to come. 
 To such guardian spirits, the poor, superstitious 
 Kedmen direct their prayers for help in every 
 time of need, as well as their war-songs and 
 death-songs. 
 
 Lucy and her brothers talked a long time 
 about poor Ningwis and his sad fate. Lucy 
 thought perhaps the ambition of the hunter 
 was told as a warning for people to be con- 
 tented with their own lot. She did not know, 
 for, like all Indian stories, it was very strange 
 and wild. Harry and Charley didn't believe 
 a word about it, any way ; and yet they said 
 they should never kill a robin if they could 
 help it, nor ever see one again without think- 
 ing of Ningwis and his cruel father.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 ONE bright morning, about the first of May, 
 after the breakfast things were washed and put 
 away, Lucy's mother told her to take the 
 broom and sweep the chambers. She went 
 first to the one occupied by her brothers. It 
 was a large back room, and as bare of furni- 
 ture as bare could be. A low bedstead stood 
 in one corner, with a blue, home-made coverlet 
 spread over it ; the figures upon it looking so 
 much like rough-shelled butternuts, the little 
 fellows used to wake up and count them in the 
 morning. The naked rafters were hung with 
 last year's herbs: May- weed, boneset, tansy, 
 elder-flowers, and a great variety of mints, all 
 dried and blackened with age. A long meal- 
 chest, divided into several compartments for the 
 various kinds of meal and flour, stood before
 
 LUCY LEE. 167 
 
 one window, with a bread-trough inverted on 
 the cover ; for this was all the store-room the 
 cottage contained. A spinning-wheel, reel, and 
 swifts, or winders, occupied another corner; 
 and this, with a broken chair or two, is a cor- 
 rect inventory of articles in the boys' chamber. 
 Even to Lucy, who had never, except in 
 dreams, seen a fine house, the room looked 
 dark and mean ; and she made haste to throw 
 up the windows and let in the bird-songs and 
 sweet spring breezes. Then the bed was made 
 neatly, and the room brushed and dusted as 
 carefully as though it had been a palace 
 chamber. 
 
 Afterwards she went to her own apartment, 
 which was smaller and more suggestive of com- 
 fort. Instead of bare rafters, the walls were 
 coarsely plastered and whitewashed, 1 and the 
 one window was curtained with a width of 
 flowered wall-paper, left when the best room 
 was papered below. The bed was as low and 
 plainly dressed as her brothers' ; but near it 
 stood the little pine table which held her trea-
 
 168 L UC7 LEE. 
 
 sures, and she forgot the nakedness of the 
 floor, and the absence of decoration, in the 
 thought of these gifts of her beloved teacher. 
 
 The window was wide open, and a bough 
 of the old sugar-maple-tree that shaded the 
 house reached almost to the casement, red 
 with blossoms, and rich with perfume. Honey- 
 bees were humming around it and sipping its 
 sweets. A bluebird was carrying threads and 
 wisps of straw through a hole which a red- 
 headed woodpecker had tapped in its hollow 
 trunk, while an old robin put the finishing 
 touches to a nest she had been busily working 
 upon for a number of days. 
 
 Lucy forgot her work for once, and sat 
 down beside the window to look and listen. 
 The very air seemed to be full of rejoicing 
 that bright spring morning. A little way off", 
 in the hill-pasture, she* could hear the voices 
 of the young lambs, and see their merry gam- 
 bols among the rocks. Nothing is pleasanter 
 in spring-time than to watch the playful lambs. 
 
 " I wonder if I couldn't write something
 
 LUCY LEE. 169 
 
 about this beautiful morning ! " Lucy exclaim- 
 ed at last. " I never tried to compose any- 
 thing myself, but Miss Willis thought it would 
 be easy for me with practice. I mean to try 
 now." 
 
 She did not open the drawer for her nice 
 paper and pens. She had a little bit of a 
 wooden pencil in her pocket, and a torn leaf 
 of an old account-book figured all over on one 
 side. These were good enough, she thought, 
 for her first scribbling ; so she wrote " Spring" 
 on the top of the paper, as almost every child 
 does for the first composition, then fell into a 
 deep study. 
 
 Very soon her fingers began to play ; a. line 
 or two were written ; then there was another 
 stop and study. So she sat wholly absorbed 
 in her new exercise an hour or more. Some- 
 times her lips moved, sometimes her fingers, 
 until at last she started up and said : " I have 
 done it ! Yes ! I have done it." 
 
 She dropped her pencil, forgot her broom 
 
 and everything else in the first joy of author- 
 22
 
 170 LUCY LEE. 
 
 ship. " I thought it would come to me some 
 time," she mused; "for when I sleep I often 
 repeat verses that are not in any book I ever 
 saw. When I wake up, they ring in my ears 
 a long time, though I could never put them 
 together again so they would sound right. I 
 am so glad I have done this ! " 
 
 And Lucy looked glad as she ran down the 
 rough uncarpeted stairs, and stood with her 
 torn leaf in her hand in the presence of her 
 mother. 
 
 " Mother, won't you listen ? " she said, going 
 near and taking hold of her dress. " I have 
 said something myself about this pleasant 
 spring morning, and want you 'to hear it." 
 
 " Said something yourself! " exclaimed her 
 mother, not quite comprehending Lucy's mean- 
 ing. " Why, you've got something written 
 there, haven't you ? " 
 
 " Yes ! but then I said it to myself first, you 
 know. I didn't write it out of any book, and 
 no one told it to me either." 
 
 " Well, well, then, make haste with your
 
 LUCY LEE. 171 
 
 nonsense, or else the baby will wake up before 
 the work is done." 
 
 Lucy commenced, and read in a trembling 
 voice the two following verses upon " Spring : " 
 
 The winter is past, the spring has returned, 
 
 And all things look lively and gay, 
 The robins and bluebirds together have come, 
 
 And the country resounds with their lay. 
 
 . 
 The lambs on the sunny south hill-side are seen 
 
 Frisking and frolicking, 
 And the trees in the orchard begin to look green, 
 
 In the smiles of the beautiful spring. 
 
 With a half-smile on her lips, Mrs. Lee lis- 
 tened to her daughter's first composition. 
 "When it was finished, she 'laughed aloud. 
 Lucy looked up for some word of approbation, 
 but her mother only said : " What sort of a 
 line do you call that, Frisking ' and frolick- 
 ing ? ' It is a dreadful short one beside the 
 others, and hasn't much sense in it either." 
 
 " I know, mother ! The line didn't suit me
 
 172 LUCY LEE. 
 
 but then I had to have some word at the end 
 of it to sound like spring, and couldn't think 
 of anything better." 
 
 " That's always the way with folks that make 
 such sort of nonsense. Don't you go to trying 
 to make verses, Lucy, for nobody was ever 
 known to be good for anything else who did. 
 I dare say the chambers won't be half swept, 
 now you've been fooling." 
 
 '" The boys' is well done, mother ; mine 
 isn't," Lucy answered truthfully. 
 
 " I thought as much. Go now, and don't 
 let me hear any more about your ' frisking and 
 frolicking.' ' : 
 
 Never did a child fall quicker from a height 
 of happiness than did Lucy Lee. She had 
 looked for some little word of commendation 
 or encouragement, and had received only ridi- 
 cule instead, which was very mortifying to a 
 nature like hers. Tears filled her eyes, but 
 pride forbade their falling until she had reached 
 her own chamber and buttoned fast the door. 
 Then she wept and sobbed as though her
 
 LUCY LEE. 173 
 
 young heart were breaking. The brightness 
 of that May morning no longer shone in Lucy's 
 heart. The music and beauty of the outer 
 world were alike forgotten. 
 
 After the first outburst of disappointed feel- 
 ing, she wiped her eyes, tore the unfortunate 
 paper in two, and was about to rend it in frag- 
 ments when another thought seemed to take 
 possession of her mind. What it was she 
 never told, but the pieces of her composition 
 were folded together carefully and placed in 
 a little pasteboard box in her drawer, wet with 
 her tears. The tumbled bed was then laid to- 
 gether, and the neglected broom completed the 
 morning's work. 
 
 By the time it was done, she was called to 
 get the potatoes for dinner, which she did with 
 a spirit from which all the life and sparkle had 
 fled. Not even her father's proposition that 
 she should go with the boys for artichokes that 
 afternoon could restore her joyousness, though 
 she felt very glad to go out for awhile in the 
 cheerful sunshine.
 
 174 LUCY LEE. 
 
 For some days Lucy went about the house 
 very quietly and soberly. Her father noticed 
 it, and thought she was wishing to go to school 
 again, she had been so lively and cheerful 
 while that lasted. Her mother said there was 
 no use saying a word to her about walking to 
 the village ; it was too far, and besides she 
 could not spare her.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 ONE rainy afternoon, about a week after 
 Lucy's attempt at verse-making, her father 
 came home from the village with a pleased, 
 happy look. "What do you think I've got 
 for Miss Lucy Leef" he asked, as she was 
 making haste to set the supper-table. " Some- 
 thing, I hope, which will bring sunshine to her 
 sorry-looking face." 
 
 He took a letter from his pocket, with a 
 white envelope, sealed neatly with red wax, 
 and held it up before the eyes of the astonished 
 group, who were scarcely able to believe that 
 Lucy had got a letter directed to herself. 
 
 "'Tis from Miss Willis, I'll bet a cent!" 
 exclaimed Harry, as delighted as Lucy at the 
 very thought. 
 
 " Oh ! I hope so," said Charley, hopping
 
 176 LUCY LEE. 
 
 about in high glee. " I do want to see Miss 
 Willis." 
 
 " ' Tis from her" said Lucy, " for I know her 
 handwriting; and then here is "A. W." on 
 the wax. Her name is Abby." 
 
 "Well, now," said her father pleasantly, 
 " open it, and let's see what's inside." 
 
 "I want to read it to myself first," was 
 Lucy's reply; and as soon as the last thing 
 was on the supper-table, she ran away to her 
 own chamber to enjoy the precious missive, 
 every nerve of her frame trembling with de- 
 light. She' broke the seal and read it from 
 beginning to end; then commenced and read 
 it again with eyes full of tears. How like her 
 beloved teacher that letter was, in every word 
 and line ; full of love and anxious care still 
 for the little ones she had guided so tenderly 
 for a few months, and left, never to meet them 
 again, perchance, in the uncertain journey of 
 life! 
 
 The account of her journey interested Lucy 
 very much, and she was sure it would interest
 
 LUCY LEE. 177 
 
 her father and mother, and the children too. 
 So she took it down and read it all to them. 
 Then there was one of Longfellow's sweetest 
 poems, which Miss Willis had cut from a paper 
 for her, and sent with the request that she 
 would write her just how she liked it. Mr. 
 and Mrs. Lee wished to hear the poem, and 
 Lucy read : 
 
 " The shades of night were falling fast, 
 When, through an Alpine village, passed 
 A youth, who bore, 'mid snow and ice, 
 A banner with the strange device 
 
 Excelsior I 
 
 His brow was sad ; his eyes beneath 
 Flashed like a falchion from its sheath 5 
 And like a silver clarion rung 
 The accents of that unknown tongue-?. 
 Excelsior ! 
 
 In happy homes, he saw the light 
 
 Of household fires gleam warm and bright; 
 
 Above, the spectral glaciers shone, 
 
 And from his lips escaped a groan 
 
 Excelsior ! 
 23
 
 178 LUCY LEE. 
 
 1 Try not the pass 1 ' the old man said, 
 1 Dark lowers the tempest overhead ; 
 The roaring torrent is deep and wide I ' 
 And loud that clarion voice replied 
 Excelsior I 
 
 4 Beware the pine-tree's withered branch I 
 Beware the awful avalanche ! ' 
 This was the peasant's last good night ; 
 A voice replied, far up the height 
 
 Excelsior ! 
 
 At break of day, as heavenward 
 The pious monks of St. Bernard 
 Uttered the oft-repeated prayer, 
 A voice cried through the startled air 
 Excelsior I 
 
 A traveller, by the faithful hound, 
 Half-buried in the snow was found, 
 Still grasping in his hand of ice 
 That banner with the strange device r 
 Excelsior } 
 
 There in the twilight, cold and grey, 
 Lifeless, but beautiful, he lay ;
 
 LUCT LEE. 179 
 
 And from the sky serene, and far, 
 A voice fell, like a falling star 
 
 Excelsior ! " 
 
 Her father and mother listened attentively 
 and silently until Lucy had finished the beau- 
 tiful poem, and asked how they liked it. Mr. 
 Lee brushed a tear from his eye as he said : 
 " The story is very prettily told, but the poor 
 /youth had better have given heed to the words 
 of the old man, who knew all the paths and 
 passes better than he." 
 
 Her mother said : " That sort of folks always 
 come to some bad end. There was no use in 
 warning them, for, if they got out of one trou- 
 ble alive, they'd be sure to get into another." 
 
 Lucy's eyes were bright with enthusiasm as, 
 she replied: "I don't think he came to a bad 
 end, mother ! Excelsior means higher ; and 
 the boy sang it all the way long until he stood, 
 upon the mountain-top, though it must have 
 been hard for him sometimes. Then, when he 
 saw nothing but the heayens and the stars
 
 180 LUCY LEE. 
 
 above him, he wanted to go up and finish his 
 song. I think it is beautiful where the voice 
 fell back from the sky like a falling star." 
 
 Her father gazed with astonishment on 
 Lucy's face as she spoke. He had never seen 
 her so earnest in the expression of an opinion 
 before ; but he shook his head and said there 
 might be such a thing as carrying a will too 
 far. Harry said he liked the fellow's spunk. 
 He knew before that Excelsior meant higher, for 
 Miss Willis had told them so, and that it was 
 the motto of the State of New York. He 
 didn't believe his father could ask Miss Willis 
 a single thing she didn't know. 
 
 Lucy was happy again that night as she lay 
 upon her pillow, thinking of her letter, and all 
 the kind, pleasant words it contained. The 
 shadow that had rested on her young spirit 
 was suddenly lifted. The perseverance of the 
 Alpine youth amid chilling discouragements 
 seemed sent to inspire her with new courage 
 and hope. Lucy was not a Christian ; there- 
 fore she could not see the light which the
 
 LUCY LEE. 181 
 
 young Christian sees in all times of darkness. 
 Though from early childhood she had known 
 well the story of the Cross, and had wept>over 
 it again and again, she had never, like Bun- 
 yan's pious pilgrim, laid her burdens at its 
 foot. Few children had read the Bible as much 
 as she, or understood as well its heavenly 
 counsels ; but, like many others, she loved it 
 better for its stirring stories than for the pre- 
 cepts which would make her wise unto salva- 
 tion.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE next morning was a morning of spring 
 brightness. The grass looked greener and the 
 flowers brighter for the rain. Lucy thought 
 she would like a run in the fields, but the baby 
 was not well, and she felt it would be use- 
 less as well as wrong to ask to go before the 
 work was done. When the sun got up higher, 
 however, Mrs. Lee said she believed the warm 
 out-of-door air would do little Hetty good, 
 and if Lucy would draw her out in the wagon, 
 she would finish the morning chores. 
 
 It was a- pleasant proposition to Lucy, the 
 more so because quite unexpected ; and she 
 ran quickly for her sun-bonnet and cape. The 
 baby was warmly wrapped, and began to spring 
 and jump at sight of the little wagon; and as 
 she was drawn gently through the back gate
 
 LUCY LEE. 183 
 
 into the orchard, it would have been difficult to 
 say which of the sisters wore the brighter face. 
 
 Lucy knew where there was a warm sunny 
 south bank, and directed her steps thither, only 
 stopping now and then to pull a dandelion or a 
 daisy for little Hetty. When they gained their 
 resting-place, the child's lap was full of shining 
 blossoms, which she played with, crowed over, 
 and pulled in pieces with the greatest glee, 
 while Lucy sat down beside her on the warm 
 hillside, looking away to the grand old moun- 
 tains one minute, and down upon the sweet 
 blue violets at her feet fhe next. The apple 
 orchard was just budding into blossom, and 
 the birds poured forth their joy in full notes 
 of thanksgiving. 
 
 " Happy little singers ! " Lucy exclaimed. 
 " How I wish I could help you ! " Before she 
 was aware, her lips were moving, and her 
 thoughts expressing themselves in simple 
 rhyme. The mortification that followed her 
 first attempt was quite forgotten as she pen- 
 cilled the following lines :
 
 184 LUCY LEE. 
 
 The violets are springing 
 
 Upon the hillsides now, 
 And the little birds are singing 
 
 On every budding bough ; 
 To them it is a pleasure 
 
 To warble all day long, 
 And oh I if I had leisure, 
 
 I'd try to sing a song. 
 
 I'd sing about the mountains 
 
 That stand up to the skies, 
 And about the silvery fountains 
 
 That make sweet melodies I 
 For the roses in their brightness 
 
 A little song I'd make, 
 And the lilies in their whiteness 
 
 As they lie upon the lake 1 
 
 I'd sing of all 
 
 But before Lucy could say of all what, the 
 baby began to fret and cry. She was tired of 
 her flowers, tired of the sunshine, and wanted 
 to go to sleep. So, putting her pencil and 
 paper back into her pocket, Lucy began to 
 move the little wagon gently backwards and 
 forwards to the time her thoughts were so
 
 LUQT LEE. 185 
 
 softly beating, until Hetty's murmurings were 
 lost in sweet baby slumbers. 
 
 "It won't do to keep her out here now," 
 Lucy reflected. "She will be sure to take 
 cold, and I may as well take her back to the 
 house and finish my writing another time. 
 I've had a very nice morning any way." 
 
 A little pleasure was a great deal to Lucy 
 Lee, and for several days she went around the 
 house as radiant as a sunbeam, though she 
 found no time to study or finish her second 
 composition. She thought a great deal, how- 
 ever, and was very hopeful that somehow, in 
 spite of all her discouragements, she should 
 get an education such as she needed to make 
 her happy and fit her to be useful in the world. 
 She knew how to study by herself better than 
 before she went to school, and had as many 
 lessons all marked out and explained as she 
 could learn in some months. If she only 
 found leisure when the days grew longer, she 
 would get along well. 
 
 At the breakfast-table one morning Mr. Lee 
 24
 
 186 LUCY LEE. 
 
 told Harry and Charley he wished them to 
 sort the potatoes for planting that day. For 
 every bushel he would give them a penny. 
 They could scarcely wait to finish their break- 
 fast, so eager were they to commence the 
 work. 
 
 "That's the way you spoil the children," 
 said Mrs. Lee, "hiring them to do whatever 
 they don't like. My way is to tell a child what 
 I want, and see that it is done." 
 
 " I know it, mother ; I know your way ; but 
 I haven't travelled so far from childhood yet 
 as not to remember how much easier and plea- 
 santer it is to work with the hope of reward 
 than for fear of punishment. A penny goes a 
 great ways with children to keep them from 
 growing tired and getting discouraged. And 
 it is about the same with grown folks, too, I 
 guess. When I's a young man, I went down 
 to New York once to see what I could see. It 
 was nothing but hurrying and driving there 
 from morning till midnight, just for the hope 
 of gain. I shall never forget it. Men that love
 
 LUCY LEE. 187 
 
 the sky and earth and green hills and moun- 
 tains as well as I do, may be, would stay cheer- 
 fully in dusty streets and dark shops just for 
 a penny more profit, just as our boys will stay 
 all day to-day down in the cellar-hole, when 
 the sun shines, and the birds sing so pleasantly 
 above." 
 
 Lucy followed her father when he went out 
 to yoke his team for ploughing. " May I 
 help the boys when I get my dishes washed ? " 
 she inquired. 
 
 " What for, child ; don't you have women's 
 work enough to do ? " 
 
 " I want some money to get me a bottle of 
 ink," she said hesitatingly. " The ink mother 
 made last winter got frozen, and will not write . 
 well. I want some nice and black before I 
 write to Miss "Willis." 
 
 " If mother can spare you, well and good. 
 If not, never mind it, and I will get you the 
 ink when I go to town." 
 
 Lucy hastened to wash her dishes, and make 
 her brothers, bed and her own, before she
 
 188 LUCY LEE. 
 
 asked her mother. Mrs. Lee said she might 
 go until it was time to be getting dinner ; she 
 should need her then. With a light heart she 
 tied on her hood and pinned a warm blanket 
 round her shoulders, as it was damp in the 
 cellar always. Then she ran quickly to join 
 Harry and Charley in their work. They had 
 two piles sorted already when Lucy got there, 
 to which they called her attention. 
 
 " His are the silver-skins, and mine are 
 blue-noses," said Charley. " But what have 
 you come for, Lucy ? There ain't a potato 
 more here than we can do ourselves ; we are 
 going to put our cents together and get an 
 india-rubber ball, if we get enough." 
 
 " I want some money, too," said Lucy. " I 
 haven't had a cent since I sold my hazel-nuts 
 last fall, and we got our school-books." 
 
 "What do girls want money for? They 
 don't play ball." 
 
 "I know it; but I want some ink, I want 
 it dreadfully. I can't write to Miss Willis 
 with that poor old frozen stuff. It sticks
 
 LUCY LEE. 189 
 
 up the steel pens so they will not make a 
 mark." 
 
 "Let father have it, then, for his account- 
 book. He always uses a goose-quill, you 
 know," said Harry. "I don't blame you for 
 wanting some good ink to write to Miss Willis 
 with. You may sort the marinoes, Lucy, 
 because they are largest and fill up fastest; 
 Charley and I were saving them for the 
 last." 
 
 Lucy would not take the advantage of her 
 brothers' generosity, but insisted they would 
 work together on the smaller ones first, then 
 on the larger ones. 
 
 " When you do write to Miss Willis," said 
 Harry, "tell her I've read the 'Robinson 
 Crusoe ' she gave me three times through, and 
 like it first-rate." 
 
 " And that I've painted every soldier in my 
 picture-book with cranberries and indigo till 
 they look as fine as real soldiers, such as we 
 see when we go to training," said Charley. 
 " I wish she'd come back here ! "
 
 190 LUCY LEE. 
 
 "I'll write her that, too," replied Lucy; 
 " and that we all wish so." 
 
 Talking first about Miss Willis and the 
 school, then about other things, the morning 
 passed away very quickly and pleasantly, 
 though they were handling potatoes in a damp, 
 shady cellar. The spirit with which children 
 labor has often more to do with its ease or 
 heaviness than the labor itself. 
 
 " We shall earn about five cents apiece to- 
 day, I guess," said Harry, as he emptied down 
 another bushel measure. 
 
 " I'm afraid I sha'n't," said Lucy. " I expect 
 every minute to hear mother call me to help 
 get dinner." 
 
 " We'll pick over for you, if she does," said 
 Charley. " It's worth as much to work in the 
 house as to sort potatoes any hour." 
 
 The expected call was soon heard, and for 
 the next hour Lucy was as busy as she could 
 be in the kitchen. The boys both petitioned 
 to have her help again in the afternoon ; so as 
 soon as the after-dinner work was done she
 
 LUCY LEE. 191 
 
 was with them again in the cellar, where they 
 amused themselves telling stories and asking 
 puzzling questions until their work was done. 
 The boys received six cents each at evening, 
 and Lucy her bottle of ink, her father finding 
 an opportunity to send for it that very after- 
 noon.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 WHAT leisure Lucy could find for the next 
 few days was spent upon her letter. She wrote 
 a good many things in the first place which 
 she did not like afterwards, and so two or three 
 letters were written before she was satisfied. 
 Miss Willis urged her to say whatever she 
 liked without reserve, but, like many others, 
 Lucy found it very difficult to express what 
 she most wished. It was very easy to write 
 about what had taken place in the neighbor- 
 hood since she left, and to pen the messages 
 which one and another had sent ; but when she 
 came to her own feelings and thoughts, which 
 her friend asked her to speak of freely, it was 
 fur more difficult than she had foreseen. She 
 thought she would tell her about her first com- 
 position, and how mortified she had felt at her
 
 LUCY LEE. 193 
 
 mother's criticism ; then it did not seem quite 
 right to mention, even though true, her mo- 
 ther's want of interest and sympathy in her 
 efforts. She decided to say only that she had 
 made two attempts to write something in verse ; 
 the first was a very lame affair, and the second, 
 though a little better, was not finished, because, 
 though she knew well enough what she was 
 going to say, she could not say it, and have it 
 sound like what she had written in the first 
 place. 
 
 Had her mother been like Miss Willis, Lucy 
 would have gone to her, and asked to be ad- 
 vised on two or three points ; but she was get- 
 ting more and more reserved every day, more 
 reluctant even to communicate her thoughts 
 and feelings to her natural friend and guide 
 than to a stranger. A painful consciousness of 
 not being understood has sealed many a child's 
 heart besides Lucy Lee's, and left the warm cur- 
 rents which would gush forth in the sunshine 
 of love to chill and freeze in hidden depths. 
 
 The letter was sealed at last, and sent ; and 
 
 25
 
 194 LUCY LEE. 
 
 as the days were now getting longer and warm- 
 er, Lucy tried to find a little time to study. 
 She was up very early in the morning, and 
 never lost a moment. Some mornings she had 
 time to read over a page or two of history be- 
 fore her mother called her to dress the children 
 and help about breakfast. Then she would 
 think it over and over as she went about her 
 work, until she knew it perfectly. Other 
 mornings she would have time only for a single 
 paragraph like the following : " The first per- 
 manent English settlement in America was 
 made at Jamestown, Virginia, in 1607." And 
 this was repeated softly until it became as fa- 
 miliar as her own name and age. Whenever 
 she went out with the baby, the book was sure 
 to have a hiding-place in a corner of the little 
 wagon, and in that way some new historic fact 
 was often added to her small stock of learning. 
 Few children have either as much fondness for 
 knowledge, or as much perseverance in acquir- 
 ing it under adverse circumstances, as Lucy 
 had ; and if she felt sometimes like giving up
 
 LUCY LEE. 195 
 
 the pursuit in despair, it was only days when 
 she felt too sick and weary to make any exer- 
 tion beyond those absolutely required of her. 
 She had many such days before the summer 
 was over, but with the first hour of strength 
 came back the native courage and resolve. 
 
 " I must, and caw, and will have an education," 
 she said one day to her mother, in a petulant 
 tone, when chided, as she often was, for taking 
 her book instead of her knitting-work while 
 tending the baby. " My hands are yours, and 
 you manage in one way or another to keep 
 them pretty well filled; but my head is my 
 own, and you cannot control it." 
 
 Lucy had never spoken thus to her mother 
 before. Her father, who chanced to overhear 
 the words, opened not his mouth to reprove or 
 approve. But after she had gone to her bed 
 that night, unhappy as she could be, Mr. Lee 
 said to his wife, " You are spoiling that child's 
 disposition by constant fault-finding and oppo- 
 sition. You know as well as I do that over 
 and above her books she does more work than
 
 196 LUCY LEE. 
 
 any other little girl in the neighborhood. I 
 can't bear to see her young face look so care- 
 worn ; and if you don't let her have her own 
 way morej I will send her away from home to 
 school, if I have to sell my last cow for it." 
 
 The threat did not, however, do much to 
 lighten Lucy's daily tasks. With her mother's 
 hands so full, how could she find time for 
 study? She did uot expect much, but her 
 heart pleaded most earnestly for more tender 
 sympathy. It was the want of that which 
 clouded her young face, and often wet her pil- 
 low with bitter tears. It was the want of 
 what every parent, however poor in worldly 
 goods, owes a child even before food or 
 raiment. 
 
 Only in the abstract had religion a place in 
 the home of Lucy Lee. Her parents believed 
 in the Bible, and taught their children it was 
 the word of God. But its practical influence 
 upon their hearts and lives was not manifest. 
 The candle of the Lord shone not upon them 
 as upon the tabernacle of the righteous. They
 
 LUCY LEE. 197 
 
 had no altar for morning or evening sacrifice. 
 Whenever there was public worship in the 
 village, they attended, and took their little ones 
 to the Sabbath-school; but latterly they had 
 been deprived of such means of grace. Cold- 
 ness and indifference to spiritual things seemed 
 to have settled down on the hearts of profess- 
 ing Christians through all the region. They 
 had had no minister for some time, and the 
 parish was too small and poor to make it an 
 object for an aspiring man to abide there. 
 
 Happily, among the teachers of Christ are 
 some who esteem souls above earthly gain, who 
 are willing to put on the likeness and make self- 
 denial for the cause of their Heavenly Master. 
 One of these came about this time to the little 
 village among the mountains. He had hearc^ 
 of the destitution of gospel privileges there, 
 and how the flock, without a leader and guide, 
 was getting astray. With a heart warm with 
 love, he said : " Let me cast in my lot among 
 you. 1 am not destitute ; those who are, and 
 have families to support, must make stipula-
 
 198 LUCY LEE. 
 
 tions to live. Your little ones need a teacher; 
 let me tell them of the Good Shepherd who 
 leadeth into ' green pastures ' and beside ' still 
 waters.' " 
 
 How the hearts of that neglected people 
 went forth to the stranger none can think who 
 have never known similar need and similar 
 unselfishness. Mr. Robbins was a man whose 
 religion was fashioned on the precepts of the 
 New Testament, whose whole nature was 
 warmed and influenced thereby. In the sim- 
 plicity of his life and character, in his devotion 
 to his Heavenly Father's work, and his love to 
 his fellow-immortals, he was not an unworthy 
 follower of Him who was meek and lowly in 
 heart, and who all His life long went about 
 doing good. The doors of the sanctuary were 
 again thrown open on the Sabbath, meetings 
 for conference and prayer were held in different 
 sections of the parish, and the Sabbath-school 
 was once more thronged with happy children. 
 To train immortal souls for another and 
 a higher life was the work for which the
 
 LUCY LEE. 
 
 199 
 
 young pastor was enlisted, and he set himself 
 to the work like a faithful soldier of the 
 Cross.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 LOVE begets love. There was not a heart in 
 the parish that was not moved by the faithful, 
 earnest exhortations of the new minister. He 
 did not begin his work by reproaching the 
 people for their backslidings and shortcomings 
 in duty ; but he called on the weak and wander- 
 ing to return, like the prodigal of old, to the 
 fulness of their Father's house. The feast 
 was waiting for them there. The best robe and 
 the gold ring were always ready for the erring 
 child. God's servants were sent with the invita- 
 tion : " Come ! for all things are now ready." 
 For the weary and heavy laden, for the sick 
 and sorrowing, for the poor, the lame, and the 
 blind, for the aged whose feet were treading 
 the dim evening- way of life, and for the young 
 in their freshness and vigor, the gospel invita-
 
 LUCY LEE. 201 
 
 tion was sent. "Whoever would, might come. 
 "Eat, friends! drink abundantly, O be- 
 loved ! " was the Master's welcome to the feast 
 He had spread. 
 
 Under sucli preaching the church was first 
 aroused. The language of its members was : 
 " All we like sheep have gone astray." Many 
 who had never before felt any personal interest 
 in the subject began to inquire whether the 
 gospel call was not to them also. For many 
 and many a year no such feeling had been 
 awakened in that community, and the faithful 
 minister toiled on, humbly and meekly striving 
 to sow the good seed. He visited from house 
 to house, and learned the spiritual wants of 
 many who had never made known such a want 
 before. He conversed so simply and affection- 
 ately, none felt as if making known their 
 thoughts and feelings to a stranger. Even the 
 children were unawed at his presence, and 
 loved to listen to his words. 
 
 " I tell you, Lucy, I like him first-rate ! " 
 
 Harry Lee said to his sister, as they were walk- 
 26
 
 202 LUCY LEE. 
 
 ing from church one Sabbath afternoon. " He 
 preaches so children can understand him, and 
 not like old Mr. Martin, whose sermons sound 
 to me just like a chapter of Komans." 
 
 Mr. Bobbins had been preaching from the 
 text : " He shall feed His flock like a shepherd ; 
 He shall gather the lambs with His arm, and 
 carry them in His bosom, and shall gently lead 
 those that are with young." 
 
 " I like him, too," replied Lucy. " And I 
 feel as though I should like to be carried in the 
 Saviour's arms. I am so tired and unhappy, 
 Harry ! " Lucy burst into tears as she spoke. 
 
 " I say," said Harry, " if you are tired, let's 
 sit down on that rock there, and wait till father 
 and mother get round with the wagon. You 
 can ride the rest of the way." 
 
 Lucy did not wish to ride. She had walked 
 from choice, and she and her brother had taken 
 a foot-path across the fields, which shortened 
 the first part of the way a good deal. She had 
 not been feeling well for some days, and every 
 exertion fatigued her. Little things fretted
 
 LUCY LEE. 203 
 
 her as they had never done before. Even her 
 father said to her the day before, when she 
 spoke hastily to one of the children, "I am 
 afraid you are really growing cross, Lucy ! " 
 
 " Tired and unhappy ! " That was her feel- 
 ing as nearly as she could express it. But that 
 was not all. Though scarcely more than ten 
 years old, Lucy had thought and felt a great 
 deal. For a long time she had been sensible 
 of an earnest desire for something she did not 
 possess. Sometimes it was only pleasant sym- 
 pathy ; sometimes knowledge. Now it was 
 something beyond and above either of these 
 something on which an immortal nature might 
 feed and rest. Her mind was awakened to a 
 sense of her lost estate by nature, and of her 
 need of recovering grace. The plan of salva- 
 tion had been clearly set forth by the minister 
 that morning; and in the afternoon the be- 
 liever's comfort and safety were dwelt upon. 
 
 Lucy could no longer say to her conscience 
 as she had sometimes said before : "I want to 
 be a Christian, but don't know how ;" for the
 
 204 LUCY LEE. 
 
 way had been made plain to her that day 
 through the blood of the Lamb. As she arid 
 Harry walked slowly homewards, she felt the 
 necessity of an entire consecration of heart and 
 life. "I will give myself to the Saviour this 
 very night ! " was her secret resolve. " I can 
 and must be a Christian ! " 
 
 When supper was over, she went to her 
 chamber and made fast the door. Kneeling 
 down by her low bedside, she said softly: 
 " Dear Saviour, I am a poor, helpless, sin-sick 
 child, and I come to give myself to Thee. 
 Leave me not to perish. I cannot go any 
 longer by myself; take me in Thy strong arms, 
 and carry me safely all the way through life." 
 Those were all the words her lips uttered, but 
 her repentant spirit told all its wants and griefs 
 in such silent language as the Father of Spirits 
 understands and heeds. A few days before 
 Lucy had begun to read the New Testament in 
 course. She had got as far as the eleventh chap- 
 ter of Matthew, to which she now opened and 
 read. The last verses of the chapter were very
 
 LUCY LEE. 205 
 
 sweet : " At that time Jesus answered and said, 
 I thank Thee, O Father, Lord of heaven and 
 earth, because Thou hast hid these things from 
 the wise and prudent^ and hast revealed them 
 unto babes. Even so, Father ; for so it seemed 
 good in Thy sight. Come unto Me, all ye that 
 labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you 
 rest. Take My yoke upon you, and learn of 
 Me ; for I am meek and lowly in heart : and 
 ye shall find rest unto your souls. For My 
 yoke is easy, and My burden is light." 
 
 " I think," she said to herself, " as I gro*w to 
 be a Christian I shall understand things better. 
 Some things I will ask Miss Willis when I 
 write to her again. She is a Christian ; I al- 
 ways knew dear Miss Willis was a Christian."
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 THAT week Mr. Bobbins made his second 
 call at Mr. Lee's. It was Thursday. He had 
 intended to call earlier in the week, but was 
 sent for to attend a funeral at some distance, 
 and only returned the day before. He had 
 noticed Lucy's serious face, both in church and 
 at Sabbath-school, and how attentively she lis- 
 tened to his instructions. He knew her from 
 the description some one had given him, and 
 wished to tell her he had a message from one 
 of her friends for her ; but she was not at home 
 when he called first, and so the message was 
 reserved for a second visit. 
 
 The gig of the village physician stood at the 
 gate of the cottage when he arrived. Mr. Rob- 
 bins knocked two or three times before any 
 person came to the door. Mrs. Lee came at
 
 LUCY LEE. 207 
 
 last, and her eyes were red with weeping. He 
 inquired if they were ill there, and was told 
 that Lucy, the eldest child, was like to die. 
 
 In answer to his inquiries, the mother 
 said she had been a little complaining for 
 a number of days, though no one dreamed 
 of her being seriously ill. She walked from 
 church Sunday, was worse on Monday, and 
 Tuesday broke down entirely. Since Tues- 
 day she had not lifted her head, or scarcely 
 spoken a word of sense, though she had 
 talked and moaned continually. 
 
 Mr. Bobbins went in. Doctor King sat by 
 the bedside, holding his patient's pulse, and 
 watching her flushed, fevered countenance. 
 Mr. Lee was near, with the youngest child 
 in his arms, and looked very much troubled. 
 
 "Lucy," he said, after rising and greeting 
 the welcome pastor " Lucy, Mr. Eobbins has 
 called to see us. Do you not recognise him ? " 
 
 Lucy opened her eyes and said : " I am 
 very tired to-day ! " then closed them again 
 and moaned as before.
 
 208 LUCY LEE. 
 
 " That's the way with her all the time 
 now," her mother said. "So it was for a 
 day or two before she was taken down, and 
 I drove her round just the same as though 
 she.'d been well and strong," and her tears 
 burst forth afresh. 
 
 u There's no doubt the child is overdone in 
 mind and body both," the physician said blunt- 
 ly. "But this is the time for remedies, and 
 not reproaches. Lucy, my child," and the 
 doctor raised her on his strong arm, and put a 
 cup to her lips, "I want you should take this." 
 
 " I want to write to Miss Willis, and ask her 
 to explain some things to me," she said, gaz- 
 ing vacantly around. " Can I to-day ? " 
 
 " Take the drink, and then we'll see how you 
 feel. You shall write as soon as you are 
 able," the doctor said soothingly. 
 
 She drank the medicine, and fixed her eyes 
 on Mr. Bobbins with a look of intelligent 
 recognition, then smiled faintly and held out 
 her hand. 
 
 " I am very sorry to find you so ill," he said,
 
 LUCY LEE. . 209 
 
 taking her hand, and speaking in the gentlest 
 tone. " But I hope you will soon be better." 
 
 "I want to be a Christian," she said, "but I 
 am so tired now, I cannot think much. Do 
 you think I ever shall learn anything ? " 
 
 " You know more than a great many grown 
 folks now, Lucy," the doctor said ; " and if 
 you'll only keep quiet, and take my medicines, 
 we'll have you able to do what you like in a 
 few days." 
 
 After giving the most explicit directions 
 about her medicines, and promising to be there 
 again before night, Doctor King rose to leave. 
 
 Mr. Bobbins rose also, and speaking a word 
 of hope to the sorrowing parents, exhorting 
 them to look to God in this and every trial, 
 followed the physician from the door. At the 
 gate he inquired the doctor's opinion of the 
 case. 
 
 "I don't know which way 'twill go, cer- 
 tainly," he replied. " I am afraid of the brain. 
 There is too much action there altogether. 
 
 She's always been a wonderful child, though 
 27
 
 210 LUCY LEE. 
 
 v > 
 folks ain't apt to see such things at home. 
 
 But," he added, energetically seizing his bridle- 
 rein, " if there's skill enough in me, I won't 
 lose Lucy Lee. I have a call that must be 
 made this afternoon, then I am coming back to 
 stick to her like a friend. Her mother is 
 a capital nurse as a general thing, but she is 
 half-frightened out of her wits now, and I 
 don't wonder at it." 
 
 Thus suddenly was Lucy prostrated on a bed 
 of sickness, perhaps of death. She had her 
 reason only at irregular periods, and not suffi- 
 ciently at any time to realize the danger of her 
 situation. Hour after hour did her parents 
 bend their ears to listen to her incoherent 
 words, promising themselves and their God, if 
 their child might only be raised up from this 
 sickness, they would be more careful of her 
 strength and more tender of her feelings. How 
 many such painful reflections crowd around 
 the sick-beds of those we love, often too late to 
 test the sincerity of the promises we make for 
 the time to come !
 
 LUCY LEE. 211 
 
 Doctor King could not have bestowed a ten- 
 derer care upon an own child than he gave to 
 little Lucy Lee. Day after day, and night 
 after night, he might have been found at the 
 cottage, scarcely leaving her bedside to eat or 
 sleep. The house was thronged with neigh- 
 bors ; but after Thursday no person except 
 the immediate watcher was allowed to enter 
 the sick-room, the physician insisting that her 
 life depended on the most absolute quiet. 
 
 No one came oftener to inquire for Lucy 
 than Mr. Bobbins ; and whenever the doctor's 
 gig was seen at his own door, he was usually 
 the first to ask after the suffering child. " I 
 tell you, sir," said the physician to him one 
 day, "she is a most remarkable little thing. 
 Yesterday she gave me the history of the 
 United States in a nutshell, and to-day she 
 talks about experimental religion like an old 
 Doctor of Divinity. But she grows weaker 
 and weaker every day, and whether there'll be 
 anything left of her when the fever is run out, 
 I can't say."
 
 212 LUCY LEE. 
 
 Prayers were offered in the Sabbath-school 
 for one of their number very near to death, 
 and many of the children wept to think of dear 
 Lucy Lee, who was with them so lately study- 
 ing the word of God. Many parents, too, forgot 
 their own trifling cares in sympathy with the 
 afflicted ones, and heartfelt petitions were 
 offered to the Throne of Grace that God in his 
 infinite compassion would restore the health of 
 the beloved child.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 AFTER two weeks of most extreme suffering, 
 Lucy lived, though too weak to raise a finger 
 or speak even her mother's name. " If thev 
 could keep her from* sinking now, she might 
 recover," the kind physician told her parents ; 
 " but that more vigilant care was -requisite than 
 ever, as she had her reason perfectly, and the 
 least emotion might overpower her and prove 
 fatal." 
 
 Never was an invalid more tenderly nursed 
 through long warm days and nights than she. 
 She realized it all, and though she had no 
 words to express her feelings, grateful tears 
 often flowed down her pale, thin cheeks. Her 
 eyes spoke in silent affection to her father, 
 mother, and good Doctor King whenever they 
 served her in any way, and sweet smiles re-
 
 214 LUCY LEE. 
 
 paid them for every effort. It was some time 
 before she could speak except in monosyllables ; 
 but the thought that she was getting better, and 
 might soon be well again, swelled every heart 
 with thanksgiving. Harry and Charley, who 
 had been very silent and sad since Lucy's ill- 
 ness, were as happy as they could be in the 
 prospect of her recovery, and did everything 
 they could to testify their joy and to assist their 
 mother, who had grown pale with care and 
 anxiety. The two little girls were taken with 
 them to the field every morning, and left to 
 amuse themselves in the shade, while they 
 hoed corn and potatoes like young heroes. 
 Never before had the family realized the full 
 strength of their attachment for one another ! 
 It is often thus ; for not until some link of the 
 household chain is broken, or seems ready to 
 break, is the full strength of the familiar bond 
 even conjectured. It is grief and sorrow, not 
 prosperity and joy, which unite hearts most 
 firmly. 
 
 One day when Lucy was a good deal better,
 
 LUCY LEE. 215 
 
 and able to sit pillowed up in bed and talk a 
 little, Mr. Lee brought the old family Bible and 
 sat down to read. It was Sunday, and Harry 
 and Charley had gone to meeting the first time 
 since her illness. Lucy had thought of them, 
 and thought of the Sabbath-school many times 
 that day, and wondered whether she would 
 ever be strong enough to go there again. She 
 had not forgotten the last Sunday she was 
 there, nor what feelings had urged her on her 
 return to give herself to the Lord Jesus Christ. 
 Never had she asked herself whether her offer- 
 ing had been accepted, for she had not once 
 doubted it. His own words, "Whosoever 
 cometh to Me I will in no wise cast out," were 
 implicitly believed. A child's faith is a happy, 
 blessed surety. Not until the human heart 
 has grown old and cold in error and false ways 
 does it learn the deep darkness of doubt. 
 
 " I wish you would read to me a little, if 
 you please, father," Lucy said, as she watched 
 him intent on the sacred book. " I think it is 
 a long time since I have heard any reading."
 
 216 LUCY LEE. 
 
 "Four weeks to-day, my child, since you 
 went out to meeting and heard lessons from 
 the Bible. You have passed through a great 
 deal since then, Lucy." 
 
 "That was the day I gave myself to the 
 Saviour to be a Christian, father. I did not 
 think it was quite so long ago." 
 
 Mr. Lee bowed his head on his hands and 
 wept at Lucy's words. Her mother was much 
 moved also to hear her child, looking still as 
 if on the borders of the grave, speak so frank- 
 ly of her consecration to God. Her father 
 drew his chair nearer to the bed, and said in a 
 broken voice, " If you are a Christian, Lucy, 
 you will have to teach me ; for I have 
 promised, with God's help, to become a Chris- 
 tian too." 
 
 " I think it is very easy when one has fully 
 made up their mind," she replied simply. 
 " The last chapter I read in my Testament was 
 the eleventh chapter of Matthew. I thought 
 of it a good deal that night after I went to bed 
 so tired, and my head feeling so badly, and
 
 LUCY LEE. 217 
 
 kept repeating the last verses to myself. I 
 think they are beautiful." 
 
 Mr. Lee turned to it, and read the 
 whole chapter aloud. "My yoke is easy, 
 and My burden is light," he repeated as 
 he closed the book. Then he said solemn- 
 ly : " Mother, you and I had more need to 
 learn of Him who is meek and lowly in 
 heart than our child; let us take His yoke 
 upon us, and begin here together the Chris- 
 tian life." 
 
 Beside Lucy's bed they knelt down and 
 pledged themselves to " walk in newness of 
 life " the remainder of their earthly pilgrimage. 
 Thanksgiving for the Lord's goodness in pre- 
 serving the life of their child mingled freely 
 in the prayer of consecration. It was a heart- 
 melting season to them all. Tears ran like 
 rain down Lucy's thin cheeks, but they were 
 tears of joy and gladness. 
 
 " We cannot help being happy now," she 
 said, when her mother bent over her to wipe 
 
 the tears from her eyes, and bid her keep quiet 
 28
 
 218 LUC7 LEE. 
 
 and not get over- tired. "I know we shall be 
 a happy family hereafter," and mother and 
 daughter exchanged kisses of affection.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 MR. BOBBINS called at the cottage again on 
 Monday. He had been at the door a number 
 of times, sometimes bringing a little gift of 
 oranges or apples for Lucy, but had never en- 
 tered since that first week of her illness. Now 
 he brought a basket of early strawberries, for 
 which he had sent to the city with the doctor's 
 assurance that they would not hurt her. Mr. 
 and Mrs. Lee felt very grateful to him for his 
 interest and kindness. 
 
 Lucy had no recollection whatever of his 
 first visit to her sick-bed ; no recollection of 
 anything, indeed, which happened during the 
 two first weeks of her illness. But she was 
 very glad to see him now, and answered all the 
 questions he asked respecting her thoughts and 
 feelings, with a modesty and intelligence very
 
 220 LUCY LEE. 
 
 pleasant to hear. Her simple story, how she 
 carried all her pain and weariness of heart with 
 her to the Saviour, never doubting His faith- 
 ful promise to give her rest, affected him much. 
 
 " Did you think of that sweet promise to the 
 young, Lucy, ' I love them that love Me, and 
 those who seek Me early shall find Me ? ' " the 
 minister asked. 
 
 " No, sir ; I did not seek Him. I only gave 
 myself to Him, I think, when He came to me 
 in my weakness and sadness." 
 
 Nothing could have been more satisfactory 
 than this unaffected tale of experience ; and 
 when Mr. Bobbins asked her if she had any 
 doubt of Christ's acceptance of her, she looked 
 up in surprise and said, " Were His promises 
 ever known to fail ? " 
 
 " No, God be thanked, never ! " was the 
 fervent rejoinder. " Not one of all His precious 
 promises ! Cling to them still, Lucy, and you 
 will always walk in the light of the Sun of 
 Bighteousness. All the promises of God are 
 ' yea and amen ' for ever."
 
 LUCY LEE. 221 
 
 Mr. Lee came in from his work while the 
 pastor was thus speaking. In the fulness of 
 his heart he said : " The Lord hath done won- 
 derful things for us here, whereof we are glad." 
 It was the first intimation Mr. Bobbins had 
 had of the change in the father's or mother's 
 feelings, and his joy could scarcely find utter- 
 ance. 
 
 " The one hundred and third psalm is yours 
 emphatically," he said, reaching up and taking 
 the Bible from the shelf. 
 
 Mr. Lee asked him to read it, and pray with 
 them also, which he did from the fulness of his 
 heart. The prayer, like the psalm, was all 
 praise and thanksgiving. The little farm- 
 house was no longer a home of sorrow or sigh- 
 ing, or of poverty and repining. Its inmates 
 had found the unsearchable riches of Christ, 
 and were rejoicing in hope of their heavenly 
 inheritance. 
 
 Before Mr. Bobbins left, he drew his chair 
 close to Lucy's bedside, and said : " I have been 
 keeping a message for you some time, from a
 
 222 LUCY LEE. 
 
 friend at the West. I don't know whether I 
 ought to deliver it to-day or not, since you 
 have had so much fatigue already." 
 
 "I do not feel much tired," she said, her 
 face all aglow with a sudden pleasure. " I 
 have but one friend at the West, Mr. Bobbins, 
 and do you know her ? " 
 
 " If you have but one, I think it quite certain 
 I do," he replied, smiling. "She gave me so 
 faithful a description of yourself, that was 
 before your sickness, that I had no difficulty 
 in knowing you the first time I saw you at 
 church. Miss Willis's message was this, that 
 while I remained here you should allow me to 
 have a little oversight of your studies, as you 
 would let her if she were near. You are not 
 well enough to think about it yet, but when 
 you get stronger you must let me come and 
 hear your lessons occasionally." 
 
 " I should be very glad," she answered, with 
 pleasure beaming brightly in her pale face, 
 " but I may not have much time to study even 
 when I am well enough. I have been sick so
 
 LUCY LEE. 223 
 
 long, mother will need rne if I am ever strong 
 again. She has had a very hard time." 
 
 " Don't speak of that now," interrupted Mrs. 
 Lee. " If you are ever able to study again, 
 you shall have all the time I can possibly 
 spare. But Doctor King says you must not 
 look in a book until he has taken you to ride, 
 and tried your strength." 
 
 Lucy could not recover from the surprise 
 of knowing that Mr. Robbins was a friend of 
 dear Miss Willis. She wished to ask many 
 questions about it, but hesitated, as though 
 there might be some impropriety in her making 
 inquiries. 
 
 "I will tell you all about it some time," 
 Mr. Robbins said, reading her thoughts 
 aright ; " but I see you are too tired for 
 any further conversation to-day. Keep up 
 good courage, and may God bless you, and 
 soon restore you to perfect health, my friend's 
 dear young friend, and my own I "
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 WITH all the care of her friends, Lucy did 
 not recover so fast as had been hoped and 
 expected. The Doctor gave her all the medi- 
 cines to strengthen her she could bear, but her 
 limbs were too weak to take a step for a long 
 time. Every morning her father took her in 
 his arms and set her in the rocking-chair before 
 the window, where she could hear the birds 
 sing, and get a scent of the sweet summer air. 
 But she would soon get weary, and ask to be 
 taken back to bed. Her hands were thin and 
 paler even than her cheeks ; they were scarcely 
 strong enough to raise her food to her mouth, 
 after it was carefully cut and prepared. 
 
 " I don't see why in the world you don't get 
 an appetite and grow stout," Doctor King said 
 to her one morning, entering while she was
 
 LUCY LEE. 225 
 
 sitting over her breakfast. "I thought before 
 this time you'd be huBgry enough to eat shin- 
 gle nails ; and here you are again turning 
 away from broiled robin and strawberries. 
 How far can you walk? " 
 
 " To the bed, if I hold on to the chairs, and 
 don't fall down by the way," she replied, 
 laughing. 
 
 "And that's just what she did yesterday, 
 Doctor," her mother interposed. "I heard 
 something or other drop in here, and came and 
 found her flat on the floor, and whiter than a 
 sheet." 
 
 " Good business that, when you and I have 
 been nursing her for weeks, as child was never 
 nursed before ! What ails you, Lucy ? " 
 
 " Miss Wayland sent her down some currant 
 wine this morning, and I tried to have her 
 take a spoonful or so, but she wouldn't till 
 she'd asked you. What do you think about 
 it?" said Mrs. Lee. 
 
 "Guess if you bitter it with one of these 
 powders, she won't be likely to drink enough 
 
 29
 
 226 LUCY LEE. 
 
 of it to hurt her. Good old port is what she 
 wants, but we can't get anything of the sort up 
 here better than steeped logwood. I came 
 down in the covered gig this morning, and my 
 wife charged me to bring Lucy up to help us 
 eat lamb and green peas for dinner. What do 
 you say to it ? Will you go ? " 
 
 "I should like to very much, if I could," 
 was Lucy's reply. 
 
 "What's to hinder?" 
 
 "I can't walk a step yet by myself; 
 and " 
 
 " And what then? Your father and mother, 
 with my help, might manage to lift you into 
 the carriage; and my wife and I, with big 
 black Phil, will try to get you out, somehow." 
 
 Lucy laughed again, remembering how little 
 Harry had taken her alone that very morning 
 from the bed to the chair, and said she was as 
 light as a feather. 
 
 Her mother,- well pleased at the thought of 
 having her ride, began to make her ready. 
 When her shawl was pinned on, her bonnet
 
 LUCY LEE. 227 
 
 tied, and a glass of the bittered wine drunk, 
 the doctor took her in his arms and carried her 
 to the carriage, her mother following with pil- 
 low and blanket. But the doctor said Lucy 
 was going to ride in his lap, as the jolting of 
 the gig wouldn't do her any good. So in 
 Doctor King's strong arms, Lucy took the first 
 ride after her long sickness. 
 
 Mrs. King met them at the door, and took 
 the invalid from her husband's arms to her 
 own, and laid her softly on her own bed, that 
 she might rest a little while before dinner. A 
 great stuffed easy chair, with a footstool before 
 it, was placed for her at the dinner-table, and 
 Lucy felt very comfortable, and not as tired as 
 she had expected. After dinner she had a pil- 
 low upon the sofa, and Mrs. King brought her 
 books and pictures to look at, and did all she 
 could to make her feel at ease and happy. 
 They had a large and well-furnished house, 
 
 very different from the plain little farm-house 
 
 < 
 
 of Mrs. Lee, with its almost naked rooms ; but 
 Lucy was envious of nothing she saw not
 
 228 LUCY LEE. 
 
 even the beautiful books, the finest by far she 
 had ever seen. 
 
 Mrs. King urged her to stay over night, but 
 Lucy was certain her mother would feel anx- 
 ious if she did not get home. The doctor 
 thought so too, as he had promised to have her 
 there at four in the afternoon, or before dew- 
 fall; but he said he would bring her again 
 whenever his wife signified she had an extra 
 dinner cooking. 
 
 That was Doctor King's way to talk, and 
 everybody in the parish knew and loved his 
 hearty, cheerful ways, though he was sometimes 
 accused of telling plain truths in a blunt way. 
 
 Lucy got home safely, and felt no worse for 
 her ride and visit. Her mother said she had 
 had a long lonely day, and was glad to have her 
 back where she could hear her voice and run 
 and look at her occasionally while she was at 
 her work. The little ones pressed around her 
 too, and Lucy felt very thankful for her hum- 
 ble home and so many friends to love her. A 
 great change had come over that home in a few
 
 LUCY LEE. 229 
 
 weeks. Every evening the voice of prayer and 
 praise arose from thence to heaven ; and tones 
 softer and gentler than before were heard 
 throughout the day. The youngest children 
 seemed to be conscious of some change, and 
 were less noisy and turbulent than before. 
 " Sissy is sick, and we must be quiet and 
 good," was little Mabel's oft- repeated injunc- 
 tion. Religion softens and refines the harshest 
 natures. As in the hands of the skilful gar- 
 dener the sweetest flowers and choicest fruits 
 are often made to appear on the thorniest 
 stocks, so will Divine grace transform the 
 natural heart, and cause it to bring forth 
 the pleasant fruits of righteousness. 
 
 The next time Mr. Eobbins came he brought 
 Lucy something sweeter even than the fruits or 
 flowers he had sent before. It was a note from 
 Miss Willis, directed, " To dear Lucy Lee, if 
 living." Mr. Bobbins had written to her of 
 Lucy's dangerous illness, and the tidings had 
 called forth the tenderest expression of her 
 loving heart.
 
 230 LUCY LEE. 
 
 " I must write you a few lines, darling 
 Lucy," she said, " though I write with fear 
 and trembling le,st your eyes should never see 
 the tearful words I am penning. It makes me 
 very sad to feel this sickness of yours may be 
 unto death ; not that it is a sad thing for the 
 children of God to die. To them it is but a 
 removal from one country to another from a 
 country of pain, sorrow, and death, to one of 
 immortal life, and health, and joy. I think I 
 conversed less with rny beloved pupils last 
 winter about that immortal country than I 
 should have done. I feel now, when I hear 
 that-one of them one so very dear to me is 
 on the borders of the unseen world, that I was 
 too anxious to fit them for life and usefulness 
 in this world, and too careless about their pre- 
 paration for the next. If God raises you up to 
 health again, dear Lucy, will you not make an 
 entire consecration of yourself to His service ? 
 I think I have written to you before that, with 
 all your thirstings and aspirings, you will never 
 rest satisfied with anything earthly. Mr. Eob-
 
 LUCY LEE. 231 
 
 bins wrote me that he easily recognised you 
 from my description, and felt sure you were a 
 seeker after religion. He is a good man, and a 
 very dear friend of mine. When we parted 
 here, I charged him with a message for you, 
 and am sorry he had not the opportunity to 
 deliver it before your sickness. I give him 
 another charge now not to forget your im- 
 mortal need. He will be your friend and 
 teacher. Your letter did me much good, and I 
 hope to receive many more from you in health 
 and strength. I shall write again as soon as I 
 hear how you are. Until then rest assured of 
 the warmest love of your friend, 
 
 " A. WILLIS." 
 
 Lucy could not hide her tears while reading 
 the kind words of her dear teacher and friend. 
 Before the note was finished, she was sobbing 
 audibly. Mr. Bobbins was conversing with 
 her mother, and neither appeared to take notice 
 of her emotion. When she had recovered her 
 composure, she said, " I would like to answer 
 this letter, if I were only strong enough."
 
 232 LUCY LEE. 
 
 "Let me write for you," Mr. Bobbins said, 
 kindly drawing near to her; "you may trust 
 me to tell her anything you wish me to. It 
 was through her influence, Lucy, I was per- 
 suaded to come to this place and try to do good. 
 I preached more than two years at the West, 
 where she is now teaching. When my health 
 failed there, and I was ordered to return to 
 New England, she spoke of this quiet little 
 place up among the mountains, and urged me 
 to come hither. She had just returned from 
 here herself, and spoke warmly of the people, 
 and of their spiritual necessities, as well as of 
 the salubrity of the climate. Had not my 
 health failed, Miss Willis and I were to have 
 been married soon ; but that event is postponed 
 until I am able to return to my former field 
 of labor, or we shall be able to decide upon 
 a new one in a more healthy locality. I hope, 
 now I have told you this, you will not hesitate 
 to send any messages you like, until you are 
 able to write to your friend yourself." 
 
 " Will you read this, sir ? " she said, quietly
 
 LUCY LEE. 233 
 
 putting the note into his hand. " Tell her I 
 thank her for it, and I think you will know what 
 else I wish most to say. And Mr. Bobbins," 
 Lucy colored and hesitated, " I wish you would 
 some time bring dear Miss "Willis back again 
 among the mountains." Tears filled her eyes 
 ,as she spoke. 
 
 Mr. Bobbins observed them, and answered 
 caressingly, " She shall come, if our lives are 
 spared, my dear child. She has a sister here, 
 you know, and many friends besides me." 
 
 The note which Lucy put in his hand, he 
 read silently, and said as he returned it, " What 
 I shall write, Lucy, will make our friend very 
 
 happy." 
 
 30
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 IT was autumn before Lucy was able to run 
 about again in her old way. That summer was 
 the pleasantest one of her life, however, for 
 though languid and weak in body, the mind 
 was serene and peaceful. All its old unrest 
 was calmed by the thought that (rod would 
 guide her in the right way ; that He who sees 
 the end from the beginning knew what was 
 best for his short-sighted child.' She fretted no 
 more about her books, but was content to learn 
 lessons of patience and self-denial. Every one 
 was kind to her, and she felt her heart drawn out 
 in love to all her fellow-creatures. She sewed 
 and knitted, and did light work around the 
 house as fast as she got strength. The doctor 
 did not think her able to study, but he took 
 her often to ride with him instead ; and when
 
 LUCY LEE. 235 
 
 he found how much she loved the mountains, 
 he made frequent errands to their summits, and 
 sometimes to the villages beyond. Lucy felt 
 very grateful for his many kindnesses to her, 
 though he would never allow her to say a 
 word about it. "Wasn't it pleasanter for a 
 person who had to go night and day to have 
 company sometimes ? " he inquired. " No man 
 could live by chewing his own cud always. 
 His wife was more afraid of the mountains 
 than of bears, and he wanted some one to speak 
 to occasionally. Moreover, old Jack was always 
 ready to run away, if he stopped a minute for 
 hazel-nuts, or mountain raspberries, which were 
 very good in their season, and which often he 
 had to pass without picking, because he had 
 nobody to hold the reins for him." 
 
 So it was on account of the doctor's fondness 
 for company in his excursions, and old Jack's 
 unsteadiness, which no mortal ever suspected 
 before, or for some other reason quite as enig- 
 matical, that Lucy found herself often enjoying 
 the glorious scenery of the mountains which
 
 236 LUCY LEE. 
 
 skirted her valley home. It was more than 
 enjoyment to her ; it was a sweet, calm rap- 
 ture, such as a little flower might be supposed 
 to feel in the hour of its unfolding. 
 
 Many grave discussions attended these ex- 
 cursions, for the doctor loved nothing better 
 than to drop a weighty thread occasionally 
 into her child mind, and sound its depths. 
 There was a freshness and vigor in the thoughts 
 evoked from thence which he liked better than 
 all the logic of the schools. The simple ear- 
 nestness with which she brought her own 
 reasons and convictions to weigh against his 
 cavils simply amused him at first, until the 
 force of her arguments filled him with sur- 
 prise. 
 
 " Who has taught you all these things ? " he 
 inquired of her one day when he had been 
 drawing her out on the subject of religion. 
 " Who told you how to answer an old sceptic 
 who doubts everything almost, except his own 
 existence ? " 
 
 Lucy blushed and hesitated. Her face was
 
 LUCY LEE. 237 
 
 more of a puzzle to the old man than her 
 words. 
 
 "I think the Holy Spirit teaches me the 
 little I know," she answered meekly. 
 
 " What makes you think so, child ? The 
 Holy Spirit teaches me nothing of the sort." 
 
 " Perhaps you don't go to His school," was 
 the naive reply. "It is only lately I have 
 understood anything in this way. You know 
 the Bible says : ' The natural man receiveth 
 not the things of the Spirit of God, for they 
 are foolishness unto him : neither can he know 
 them, because they are spiritually discerned.' 
 That is why I think, when I understand things 
 now which were all dark to me before, that 
 the Spirit teaches me." 
 
 " They shall all be taught of God" mused the 
 doctor in an undertone, and a long silence en- 
 sued. Then Lucy ventured to say : 
 
 " I think if you would talk to Mr. Bobbins 
 on the subject, he would be able to explain 
 some things to you more plainly." 
 
 " Pho ! Mr. Bobbins teaches as he has been
 
 233 LUCY LEE. 
 
 taught, I suppose. I don't care a fig about 
 seminary theology any way." 
 
 "But he is a good man," persisted Lucy. 
 
 " Yes ; there you have me again. No one 
 can dispute Mr. Eobbins being a good man 
 who takes note of his daily life ; and that's the 
 preaching that tells. Not the speaking with 
 the tongues of men or of angels, which without 
 charity is no more than sounding brass or 
 tinkling cymbals. Mr. Bobbins practises all 
 he preaches ; and does not, like the evil shep- 
 herds, ''Eat the fat and clothe himself with the 
 wool ' of the Lord's poor. I know something 
 about him myself, Lucy. There are my two 
 patients up at the poor-house, whom he visits 
 oftener than I do, and carries them better me- 
 dicines than anything in my saddle-bags, by 
 all odds. Last week he took warm flannel for 
 the old woman with rheumatism, and fresh 
 meat and peaches for the young one in con- 
 sumption. I caught him in the distribution, 
 and he apologized and stammered as though 
 lie thought himself verily guilty of what I
 
 LUCY LEE. . 239 
 
 accused him, namely, the intent to steal away 
 my practice.' 1 ' 1 
 
 " But he knew you were not in earnest, doc- 
 tor!" 
 
 " How did he know it ? " 
 
 " Just as / know, when you come for me 
 to ride, and say it's because you can't trust old 
 Jack with the buggy when the sun shines; 
 and just as I know too, that while you call 
 yourself an unbeliever, you are almost a Chris- 
 tian." 
 
 " I would to God I were altogether one, my 
 child," he answered solemnly, " in heart and 
 life, a sincere, humble Christian I " 
 
 " Jesus Christ is the way," Lucy said, look- 
 ing up to him with a face beaming with glad- 
 ness. " You will find it a very easy, pleasant 
 way." 
 
 " Not as easy as you imagine for an old sin- 
 ner like me, who had rather go about establish- 
 ing his own righteousness, than trusting in the 
 merits of the Son of God. I know it is a 
 way that opens wide unto the young."
 
 240 LUCY LEE. 
 
 They had no more conversation that day, 
 for they had just reached the door of Lucy's 
 home. But the doctor took her from the car- 
 riage with even more than his customary 
 tenderness, and said, " You shall be my teacher 
 henceforward, my good little girl." 
 
 Lucy could not dismiss the doctor's words 
 from her mind. She thought of the sad tone 
 with which he said, " Not as easy as you imagine" 
 It was so unlike his usual cheerful voice, that 
 it went to her very heart. No one could have 
 been kinder than Doctor King had been to her 
 ever since her sickness, no gentle woman more 
 sympathizing in her hours of pain and weak- 
 ness. Now he was weary and heavy-laden 
 perhaps, just as she had been when she first 
 longed to be lifted in the arms of the Good 
 Shepherd. How gladly would Lucy have 
 taken him by the hand, and said, " Come to my 
 Saviour and he will give you rest." 
 
 " What can I do for him !" she often thought 
 as she went round the house, a shadow graver 
 than usual. She thought at last; and when
 
 LUCY LEE. 241 
 
 she went up to her little chamber that night, 
 she prayed as she had seldom prayed before, 
 that the blindness might be removed from her 
 dear friend's eyes; that he might see the 
 way of salvation plainly, through a crucified 
 
 Eedeemer. 
 
 31
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE next time Doctor King came to take 
 Lucy to ride, he said to her, " I haven't found 
 the way you spoke of yet, my child the way 
 to be a Christian." 
 
 " Have you asked ? " she inquired. 
 
 " I have asked my own reason and heart, 
 but they give me no assurance." 
 
 " If we were riding a way we did not know 
 and should get lost, would you ask your own 
 reason the right way, or look for a guide or 
 guide-board ? " 
 
 " We might not be able to find either, 
 Lucy." 
 
 " But we can always find them on the way 
 from earth to heaven ; and we have only to 
 inquire, to be led aright." 
 
 " How can you prove it ? "
 
 LUCY LEE. 243 
 
 " By this little guide-book," she said, taking 
 her Testament from her pocket, and opening to 
 the seventh chapter of Matthew. " It is writ- 
 ten here, ' Ask, and it shall be given you ; 
 seek, and ye shall find ; knock, and it shall be 
 opened unto you. For every one that asketh, 
 receiveth ; and he that seeketh, findeth ; and 
 to him that knocketh, it shall be opened.' 
 Every one, you see, doctor. It don't say a 
 few, or a good many, but every one who 
 wishes." 
 
 The doctor sat watching her thin, earnest 
 face as she spoke. "I see you believe that 
 guide implicitly," he said, as she looked up in 
 his face for some reply. 
 
 " Which way should I turn if I didn't ? " 
 she answered sadly. " Oh, Doctor King ! don't 
 you believe this precious guide ? " 
 
 " I am not certain. If I really did believe 
 it, should I stand doubting and hesitating as I 
 do now, my child ? " 
 
 " I don't know," she said, and tears filled 
 her eyes as she spoke. " But if you don't feel
 
 244 LUCY LEE. 
 
 quite sure, the Saviour will not leave you. 
 He will come and stand at the door of your 
 heart and ask to be let in. I think he is 
 knocking there now, and I know you will 
 open it to him ; won't you ? " and the tears, 
 which a moment before had gathered in her 
 eyes, now fell thickly. 
 
 No one would have believed the soft, tremu- 
 lous voice that answered, " I'm a hardened old 
 fellow, Lucy, but I will try," belonged to the. 
 village doctor ; no one who had never heard it 
 in the hour of anguish, or death, when the 
 usual blunt- toned physician yielded to the ten- 
 der, sorrowing friend. Lucy's little ungloved 
 hand was laid gently in the doctor's great, 
 broad palm, and the smile that lighted up her 
 features looked not unlike the rainbow which 
 shines from a summer cloud. She did not say 
 his words made her glad, but every expres- 
 sion of her face, every tone of her voice, testi- 
 fied it more plainly than any words. 
 
 The doctor had a number of calls to make 
 that afternoon, and it was nearly night when
 
 LUGY LEE. 245 
 
 Lucy reached home, happier than she had ever 
 felt before, at the close of a pleasant day. 
 
 It was soon remarked throughout the parish 
 that Doctor King was interested in religion. 
 His attendance upon the meetings for prayer 
 became frequent, while the seriousness of his 
 countenance indicated a solemn questioning of 
 heart. No one approached him on the sub- 
 ject, fearful, perhaps, of disturbing the silent 
 operations of the Holy Spirit. Even Mr. 
 Bobbins forbore questioning, though he was 
 often borne on his spirit to the throne of love 
 and grace. Only a warmer grasp of the hand 
 when they met, and on one occasion an invo- 
 luntary " God help you, my dear sir," told the 
 devoted pastor's sympathy with the awakened 
 man. A more demonstrative character, or an 
 intellect of less scope, he would have approach- 
 ed differently ; but in no other way could he 
 so effectually have opened the interior passages 
 of the doctor's confidence, and brought him to 
 unbosom his new wants and resolves. Then, 
 as brother stands by brother in the hour of
 
 246 LUCY LEE. 
 
 trial and condemnation, as petition after peti- 
 tion is drawn up and presented for his pardon, 
 so did the affectionate young minister stand 
 with words of encouragement, and cheering 
 promises of abundant, free forgiveness through 
 the great atoning sacrifice. 
 
 " The same way of salvation our little invalid 
 has been preaching to me for days and weeks," 
 the doctor said. Then he told of the many 
 conversations he had had with Lucy in their 
 rides together, and how earnestly she had 
 labored to lead him from the paths of unbelief. 
 
 " There is no other name given among men 
 whereby we can be saved," said Mr. Bobbins, 
 solemnly. " The oldest divine, and the young- 
 est child taking the first steps in the Christian 
 course, can speak of no other than the Living 
 Way. Lucy was wonderfully prepared to find 
 that way a way of pleasantness and peace." 
 
 " That child would make an able evangelist, 
 Mr. Bobbins." 
 
 " I hope to see her educated for a teacher,' 
 was his reply. " I have only been waiting for
 
 L UCT LEE. 247 
 
 you to say she is sufficiently strong, to renew 
 my offers of assistance." 
 
 It was not long after the foregoing conversa- 
 tion, that Doctor King arose in a meeting for 
 conference and prayer, and spoke in a subdued 
 tone of the dealings of God with his soul, and 
 of his wish and determination in future to live as 
 became a man who had put on Christ. His 
 words were few, but there was something in 
 his manner which carried conviction to all 
 present, that his was no hasty resolve, born in 
 the impulse of a moment, to melt away with 
 time, but a deliberate, sanctified purpose, 
 stretching forward into the long years of eter- 
 nity. Many a heart was gladdened, and many 
 eyes made tearful by that simple testimony of 
 the parish physician, who, of all men among 
 them, was the best beloved. Many a mother 
 in that congregation whose little one had closed 
 its eyes in her kind arms in the slumber that 
 knows no earthly awaking, wept at the remem- 
 brance of his tender sympathy ; while her heart 
 swelled with thanksgiving, that his own strong
 
 248 LUCY LEE. 
 
 spirit had found something to comfort and 
 stay itself upon at last. 
 
 Doctor King's conversion seemed to be the 
 last drop of the pleasant revival shower the 
 crowning sheaf of a precious, harvest summer.
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 THE autumn came with its crimson woods 
 and golden harvests. Never had the fields of 
 the husbandmen ripened in richer plenty. 
 Never, from that little parish among the moun- 
 tains, had so many hearts been ready to offer 
 thanksgiving for all God's mercies. 
 
 " As the Lord hath prospered us, we ought 
 to give for .the support of the gospel in our 
 midst," said one and another new-born soul. 
 " The laborer is worthy of his hire." A meet- 
 ing was called, and it was voted unanimously 
 to ascertain whether Mr. Bobbins could be 
 induced to settle among them for such salary 
 as they could offer. Doctor King was fore- 
 most in the enterprise, and pledged himself for 
 one-fourth of whatever sum the parish would 
 
 agree to raise. With this promise, four hun- 
 32
 
 250 LUCY LEE. 
 
 dred dollars were speedily voted, and a com- 
 mittee appointed to wait upon the pastor of 
 
 their choice. 
 
 i 
 
 Mr. Bobbins was taken by surprise. He 
 had never dreamed of a call to settle in the 
 little obscure parish, to which Christian love 
 and charity had first directed his steps. He 
 wanted time to reflect upon it; time, too, to 
 consult another whose life-lot was to be linked 
 with his own. He felt that the people had 
 pledged themselves for a sum greater than in 
 their humble circumstances they could afford, 
 and he told them so frankly. But the people 
 were willing to make any self-denial rather 
 than be deprived again of the preaching of the 
 gospel. 
 
 Mr. Bobbins had just opened a school in the 
 village for an autumn term, and had had seve- 
 ral applications from neighboring parishes to 
 receive pupils. The thought occurred to him, 
 " What, after all, if the Lord have been leading 
 me in a way that I knew not of, and this be 
 the place appointed for me ! What, if for this
 
 LUCY LEE. 251 
 
 same purpose, he took away my health and 
 destroyed my present hopes of usefulness in 
 the broader field upon which I had entered, 
 that I might, all my life long, preach the gos- 
 pel to the poor, and train youthful feet for the 
 paths of life and immortality ! If so, am I not 
 ready? "Pis a humble lot, but so was my 
 master's." 
 
 A number of weeks elapsed before Mr. Rob- 
 bins replied to the call ; weeks of doubt and 
 anxiety to himself, as well as to the parishioners. 
 He made it a subject of daily prayer, until the 
 way became plain before him. He was not 
 one who looked lightly upon the duties and 
 responsibilities involved in the pastoral office ; 
 neither did he believe in the growing custom 
 of changing or breaking up for trivial reasons, 
 the settled sacred relation of pastor and peo- 
 ple. 
 
 " Have you made up your mind to abide 
 with us on such poor terms as we can offer ? " 
 was the inquiry of Doctor King, one evening 
 when they met.
 
 252 LUCY LEE. 
 
 "Until I die, if the Lord will," was the 
 warm, -heart-gushing response. 
 
 It was speedily communicated to the waiting 
 parish, and received with great joy. 
 
 Our reader may like to see the extract from 
 a letter, which was not without its influence 
 upon the foregoing decision : 
 
 " Since you urge me to speak my mind 
 freely," the writer said, u and ask whether I am 
 prepared to spend my life among the hills of 
 Vermont, I can only reply, if there be your 
 call, and there your work, I shall rejoice at the 
 one, and be ready to- share in the other. I 
 should love to live among the mountains far 
 better than in the city, or on the prairie, if we 
 may only be as useful there as elsewhere. It 
 seems to me our souls, as well as our bodies, 
 grow more vigorous in such a clear, calm 
 atmosphere; and I am confident we should 
 enjoy more of each other's society there than 
 in this busy frontier city. I shall leave my 
 school here with reluctance ; but what you 
 write of my Yermont pupils, and the prospect
 
 LUCY LEE. 253 
 
 of a permanent school there, will lighten my 
 sorrow. I am very glad that Lucy is so far 
 recovered, and able to study a little. The 
 influence she exerted on Doctor King scarcely 
 surprised me ; for such warm, earnest natures 
 as hers, are born to exert an influence. I hope, 
 if you decide to remain, we shall be able to 
 assist her very much. Give much love to her, 
 and say what you please about the probability 
 of my seeing- her soon." 
 
 Talk about an ordination soon began to be 
 heard. Such an event had taken place but 
 once in the parish, and that was long years 
 before, when the " old folks " were young. 
 For various reasons Mr. Bobbins wished to 
 have it postponed until Christmas ; one was, 
 his school would not be out until November ; 
 another, he had a journey to make which 
 would require an absence of a number of 
 weeks. 
 
 Every one guessed the purpose of his jour- 
 ney, though no one was specially informed 
 but Lucy Lee, who never told what she knew
 
 254 LUCY LEE. 
 
 of the matter. Words would hardly express 
 the delight which that intelligence afforded her, 
 for though, since Mr. Kobbins's promise, she 
 had looked forward with hope to a meeting with 
 her beloved friend at some future time, it had 
 never occurred to her that she would return to 
 make her home in their little mountain village. 
 She had supposed it very certain that after the 
 confirmation of Mr. Robbins's health, he would 
 go back again to his former field of labor. 
 His consent to abide with them was therefore 
 almost as much of a marvel to her as a joy. 
 
 Harry and Charley Lee both attended the 
 autumn school, but as Lucy was not able, she 
 was as contented and happy as possible with 
 her lessons at home. Though she still did all 
 she could to assist her mother with the house- 
 work, sewing and knitting, and found but little 
 time for study, everything went pleasantly and 
 harmoniously now. Her mother had reproach- 
 ed herself too much during her daughter's ill- 
 ness, to longer oppose her tastes, if she still 
 failed to comprehend them. So Lucy studied
 
 LUCY LEE. 255 
 
 grammar or history, or wrote out her poetic 
 fancies, whenever she found opportunity. Mr. 
 Eobbins came as often as he could find time, to 
 encourage and assist her in her studies, and 
 sometimes took away with him a composition 
 which he failed to return. Doctor King came 
 as usual to take her to ride, and one day stop- 
 ped on their return to speak a word with her 
 mother. 
 
 The word was spoken in the doctor's own 
 way. " His wife was tired of being so much 
 alone," he said, " and wished him to call and 
 ask Mrs. Lee's consent for Lucy to come and 
 spend a while with them. There was a whole 
 library of books at her disposal, a room full 
 of medicine if she should happen to need it, 
 and she might take all the knitting and sewing 
 from home she wished to do. How could 
 Mrs. Lee object ? " 
 
 She could not, with so many advantages 
 held out to her child, though the thought of 
 parting with her for a single day was a sore 
 trouble to her now, Lucy felt this, and said
 
 256 LUCY LEE. . 
 
 she thought she had better not go. But her 
 mother said if her father were willing, she 
 would not think of keeping her at home on 
 her own account, when a short visit might do 
 her a great deal of good. Luckily she could 
 hear from her every day by the boys when 
 they came from school. 
 
 So Doctor King went away with some en- 
 couragement, if he came again the next week, 
 Lucy would accompany him home. 
 
 At the appointed time he made his appear- 
 ance, and Lucy, with a little bag of clothes on 
 her arm, and her portfolio tied up in a news- 
 paper in her hand, kissed her mother and the 
 two little ones, then with tears in her eyes took 
 her seat beside the doctor in the familiar 
 buggy. 
 
 The doctor wrapped her carefully with the 
 robes, and began to talk to her in a lively tone 
 to make her forget she was leaving home. He 
 told her his wife was tired to death of having 
 never a child nor a chick in the house, except 
 old black Phillis, to speak to when he was
 
 LUCY LEE. 257 
 
 gone, and had been to work and fixed her up 
 a nice warm room, where she could read and 
 study and sleep as much as she pleased. The 
 doctor told her only the truth ; and Lucy 
 found on her arrival as warm a welcome as she 
 could possibly have wished, and after a day or 
 two she began to feel at home and comforta- 
 ble. 
 
 Mr. Bobbins came to see her very soon, and 
 said if Doctor King thought it would not hurt 
 her, he would like to have her come into 
 school a little while every afternoon, and re- 
 cite arithmetic with the class. The school was 
 only a few steps across the street. Lucy found 
 it very pleasant; and after a few days' trial 
 of her strength, was a regular attendant until 
 its close. 
 
 33
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 THOUGH Mr. and Mrs. Lee and the little 
 ones missed Lucy very much at home, they 
 could not think of depriving her of the advan- 
 tages so unexpectedly offered. Doctor King 
 insisted that if Mr. Eobbins continued his 
 school through the winter, she should remain 
 with them, and attend. They would look 
 after her health as carefully as though she 
 were their own child. With this understanding 
 and promise she went home to spend the vaca- 
 tion, while Mr. Robbins went away to the 
 West. 
 
 One clear, bright, December morning, when 
 Lucy had been home about four weeks, she 
 ran to the window at the sound of sleigh bells, 
 and saw Dr. King's horse and cutter stopping 
 before the gate. The doctor was not driving,
 
 LUCY LEE. 259 
 
 and a second glance told her it was Mr. Bob- 
 bins and a lady, ," his wife" he said, as Lucy 
 met them at the door, and was clasped fondly 
 in the arms of her dear old teacher. They had 
 reached the village the evening before, and 
 were stopping at Dr. King's until their own 
 parsonage-house was ready for them. 
 
 Mrs. Bobbins was going to spend the first 
 day with her sister, and Dr. King had insisted 
 they should bring Lucy back* with them at 
 night, so they called in the morning to bid her 
 be ready. 
 
 It was only a few days before the ordination, 
 and the time passed very pleasantly. The school 
 at the new parsonage opened then, and Lucy 
 became a daily pupil. Mrs. Bobbins presented 
 hei* with a number of school-books, more, Lucy 
 thought, than she should ever find time to 
 study. She was mistaken, however, for every 
 month found her making steady advancement. 
 She had some interruptions. There were days 
 when she was not well, and then the doctor 
 would not allow her to go to school. There were
 
 260 LUCY LEE. 
 
 seasons of sickness, too, at the cottage at home, 
 and Lucy was always there, a patient nurse and 
 most affectionate watcher. There were other 
 seasons besides, when the labor and care fell 
 too heavy on her mother, and at such times she 
 would go home to divide the weariness and toil. 
 
 She was better for these interruptions, 
 stronger in head and heart ; better in health, 
 too, it may be, though still very slender and deli- 
 cate. Her constitution never seemed to quite 
 recover from that first severe shock of illness, 
 and her friends watched over her with the ten- 
 derest care. 
 
 Lucy carried every doubt and difficulty to 
 Mrs. Bobbins, as she had done to dear Miss 
 Willis of old, and found in her the same in- 
 dulgent, sympathizing friend and helper. And 
 so months and years passed away, and the little 
 parsonage school among the mountains grew 
 to be one of the fixed institutions of the State. 
 Pupils from distant sections flocked in v until 
 there was no more room to receive them. 
 When the parsonage was full, Doctor King
 
 LUCY LEE. 261 
 
 took a few boarders ; among them was a nephew 
 of his, fitting for the University. 
 
 Morton, King was a youth of unusual pro- 
 mise, and his influence was soon felt throughout 
 the whole school. Every class with which he 
 was associated, seemed stimulated by his supe- 
 rior scholarship ; and as he had always a word of 
 help and encouragement for those who needed 
 them, he was regarded with the highest favor. 
 No one was jealous of his fine talents ; no 
 one could have been jealous or envious of one 
 who bore himself so meekly among his fellow 
 students, and was always stimulating them to 
 industry, and trying to do them good. To 
 Lucy, who was just commencing the study of 
 the classics, he was a most valuable assistant. 
 Doctor King's little sitting-room rang at even- 
 ing with their Latin declensions and conjuga- 
 tions, until his wife declared it was almost as 
 bad as reading the labels in the apothecary's 
 shop. Morton and Lucy led their classes, and 
 were admitted to be the best scholars in the 
 school.
 
 262 LUCY LEE. 
 
 As the cares of her family increased Mrs. 
 Bobbins began to give Lucy the oversight of 
 her younger classes, until she grew in time to 
 be the regular assistant pupil-teacher, and 
 received pay for her services. Her proficiency 
 was now more rapid than ever before, for 
 while her earlier lessons were in constant 
 review, her progress was still onward. She 
 was an excellent mathematician, learned the 
 languages with facility, and at fifteen would 
 write a theme or essay which both Mr. Bobbins 
 and Doctor King declared fit for a college 
 examination. Occasionally in the poets' corner 
 of one of the State newspapers appeared arti- 
 cles which the editor pronounced " Gems." 
 No one but Lucy and Mrs. Bobbins knew any- 
 thing of their authorship. 
 
 At length, one of the metropolitan maga- 
 zines offered prizes for the best tales and poems 
 which should be offered within two months. 
 Mrs. Bobbins whispered to Lucy, "Now is 
 your time to enter the field ! There will be a 
 hundred aspirants ; try with the rest. Your
 
 LUCY LEE. 263 
 
 name need not go before the public unless you 
 desire it." 
 
 Lucy lent all her strength to the effort, and 
 surpassed even the expectations of her friend 
 and adviser. 'When, some weeks after, word 
 came that the " Green Mountain Poetess " had 
 won the prize for the second best article, Lucy's 
 heart leaped as it had never done since that 
 May morning so long ago, when she made her 
 first attempt at authorship. She had not for- 
 gotten that morning, and would never forget 
 the joy she felt while running down the old 
 staircase to read the successful effort to her 
 mother, and the grief and mortification that 
 followed. Many years had passed since hap- 
 py, pleasant years ; but those words, " Never 
 let me hear any more such nonsense," would 
 not fade from her recollection. She had writ- 
 ten much since then, but never had a word or 
 line of it all been forced upon her mother's 
 notice ; for though Mrs. Lee was now one of 
 the kindest, most self-denying of mothers, her 
 taste for literature had in no wise changed.
 
 264 LUCY LEE. 
 
 In the little pasteboard box, up in the 
 drawer of the pine-table at home, was Lucy's 
 first poem, torn apart in a moment of humilia- 
 tion and keen resentment, then laid carefully 
 aside for an hour of triumph. That hour had 
 now come, but the resentment had long since 
 passed away, and there was not even triumph 
 in her heart, only a soft, quiet joy, as she 
 went and put the letter, with the bank-note 
 which accompanied it, into the hands of 
 her mother. " I 'dorj't want the money," 
 she said, with a quivering lip. "I earn 
 all I need in school, and Doctor King will 
 not take a cent for my board. Take it to 
 get things for yourself, and Ruth, and little 
 Hetty." 
 
 Both Mr. and Mrs. Lee were delighted with 
 this proof of their daughter's talent, though, 
 had the latter spoken her mind freely about 
 the successful poem, it would probably have 
 been like this : " Only some nonsense about 
 the mountains which I never did nor ever can 
 understand."
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 LUCY'S success as a poetess was soon whis- 
 pered through the school and the village. Her 
 friends congratulated her ; and some of them 
 repeated in substance what the editor had 
 written in his letter, that if she gave her atten- 
 tion to literature, a world of fame might lie 
 before her. 
 
 Nothing sounds so sweetly in a young 
 author's ear as fame ; and Lucy listened to 
 the words of her friends with a new and deli- 
 cious sensation at her heart. She saw only a 
 flower-strewn way, leading upwards. To the 
 eye of imagination that way had neither thorn 
 nor weariness, and she longed to enter upon 
 it and press forward ; but the labor of her 
 classes, together with her own regular studies, 
 
 left very little time for efforts of imagination. 
 34
 
 266 LUCY LEE. 
 
 Only one circumstance damped the pleas- 
 ure she felt at her literary success ; and though 
 she scarcely admitted it even to herself, that 
 one at times lay heavy on her heart. One of 
 her friends and schoolmates, who had always 
 been first to express joy whenever she suc- 
 ceeded in any undertaking, had no word of 
 congratulation for her now, when all besides 
 were making professions of gladness. Morton 
 King not only avoided mentioning it himself, 
 but looked troubled when others spoke of it in 
 his presence. No one noticed this circum- 
 stance, perhaps, but Lucy ; but she had grown 
 so accustomed to his ways, so familiar with his 
 likes and dislikes, in the two years they had 
 passed together, she felt she could not be mis- 
 taken. That Morton was secretly dissatisfied 
 she was certain, though for what reasons she 
 puzzled herself in vain to discover. Some- 
 times she resolved to ask him, and thus put 
 an end to her doubts ; but whenever she 
 attempted to speak about it, delicacy or pride 
 prevented, until a feeling of embarrassment
 
 LUC7 LEE. 267 
 
 and restraint began to take the place of mutual 
 confidence and esteem. Once or twice Lucy 
 fancied he was going to speak to her on the 
 subject, when something prevented ; and now 
 the term was fast drawing to a close, and 
 Morton was going away to return no more. 
 
 "I would give anything to know what it 
 is," Lucy said to herself one evening when she 
 had taken her books to her own room to study 
 the morrow's lessons. " I would like to know 
 whether he is really displeased with me, or is 
 only in the blues about going away, as his 
 uncle says. He doesn't seem offended, but so 
 changed. I am afraid it is about that maga- 
 zine article, and I would a thousand times 
 never have written it than to have pained him 
 in any way. Morton has been as kind to me 
 as a brother, ever since he came." 
 
 Lucy's heart spoke the simple truth. Much 
 pleasure as that little poem had given her, 
 she would much rather not have written it, or 
 even that it should have failed of success alto- 
 gether, than have wounded the schoolmate
 
 268 LUCY LEE. 
 
 whose assistance and friendship she had prized 
 so highly. 
 
 In the midst of her reflections on the subject, 
 and before her books were opened, she heard 
 the quick step and lively voice of Doctor 
 King at her door. 
 
 " Come out, Lu ! come quickly," he said, 
 " and help Morton through a page or two of 
 Virgil. Somehow or other, he has got lost in 
 that big wooden horse of Minerva's, and in the 
 midst of so many Grecian youths forgets he is 
 a Trojan." 
 
 " " Now, Doctor King,**that is my lesson, and 
 not his," Lucy replied, laughing, as she made 
 haste to open the door. " It is I who have % 
 that story of Eneas to translate to-night. Mor- 
 ton knows it all." 
 
 " Anyhow, he is out here puzzling over it, 
 and looking sorely bewildered. I thought it 
 was he who needed help, and as I had to go 
 down to old Mrs. Hicks to bring home my 
 wife, and couldn't set him right myself, you 
 should try what you can do."
 
 LUCY LEE. 269 
 
 " What a great tease your uncle is ! " Lucy 
 said, as she deposited her heavy dictionary on 
 the stand, and sat down with Virgil in her 
 hands in a seat near by. " I don't see how 
 he discovered the subject of my lesson, to- 
 night." 
 
 "You forget that he dropped in at Dido's 
 banquet this morning. I think he recollects 
 enough of the old poem to know what comes 
 next. And he must have noticed, Lucy, how 
 you have run away from my assistance every 
 night this week," her companion added, in a 
 serious tone. 
 
 Lucy blushed as she said, " I thought you 
 . were not quite pleased with me ; indeed I 
 didn't know but this last week " 
 
 Morton took advantage of her hesitation 
 to say, " You might deprive me of a very 
 great pleasure that of assisting you with your 
 Latin lessons as long as I remain. Then I had 
 something besides I wished to say to you." 
 
 "About the^oem ?" Lucy asked, frankly. 
 
 " Yes ! What made you think of that ? "
 
 270 LUCY LEE. 
 
 "Because you never have spoken to me 
 about it ; and I am sure you don't like it." 
 
 " I do like it, every sentiment and every line 
 of it ; and yet its success gave me more pain 
 than I should like to acknowledge. Shall I 
 tell you why, Lucy ? " 
 
 " I am sure I should like to know." 
 
 " I suppose you don't know anything about 
 my plans for the future. I have never said 
 much about them, for fear I might change my 
 mind. When I set out to be a Christian, I 
 resolved to do all the good I could in the 
 world, whatever I might be called to do. I 
 thought first I would be a teacher ; then a 
 minister ; and afterwards I resolved to be both 
 together, and go and carry the good news of 
 the gospel to the heathen. Sometimes when I 
 thought about it, it seemed like a great solitary 
 work ; but since I knew you, Lucy," he said, 
 in a lower voice, " I have often thought, whea 
 1 got through my studies, I would ask you to 
 go with me, and help .teach poor, ignorant 
 souls of the Saviour who died for them. I
 
 LUCY LEE. 271 
 
 heard uncle say once, you would make a first- 
 rate missionary, Lucy. But when I heard of 
 the success of your poem, and knew that the 
 paths of literature and fame were opening 
 before you, and how well you would love to 
 walk in those paths, I could not help feeling 
 there was a death-blow to the hopes I had all 
 along been cherishing. Do you understand 
 me?" 
 
 " I think so. You were not displeased with 
 me then, Morton ? " And a bright flash of 
 light overspread her grave, serious face. 
 
 " I was never displeased with you in all my 
 life," he answered in a low tone. " I was only 
 very sorry and disappointed. I could not 
 think you would be willing to forsake a life- 
 path so pleasant, to go with me to a strange, 
 benighted land." 
 
 " I have thought a good deal about being a 
 teacher, if I could get prepared," Lucy replied ; 
 " but I never thought of leaving my home and 
 country for ever. Oh ! how can you go, Mor- 
 ton?"
 
 272 LUCY LEE. , 
 
 "How can I stay, rather, when I hear the 
 Lord of the Harvest calling for laborers? 
 Sometimes I think I should like to remain at 
 home, and become a great man, and do some- 
 thing to be remembered by my countrymen in 
 future years; and then the thought of Him 
 who was rich, and for our sakes became poor, 
 who was the Prince of Glory, and yet laid 
 aside his kingdom and his crown for a cradle 
 in a manger and a death on the cross, makes 
 me willing to forget all my earthly ambition, 
 and follow in his footsteps. I have a good 
 many struggles, however, for I am naturally 
 very proud and fond of distinction." 
 
 " Oh, so am I ! " said Lucy, bowing her 
 head as though the confession were very pain- 
 ful. "I never thought how proud and vain 
 before." For some minutes she sat with her 
 head leaning on her hand in silent thought, 
 then said : " It has been a snare to me, Morton. 
 Dear Mrs. Bobbins often told me I ought to 
 cultivate the talent gjven me for writing like 
 any other of God's gifts, for the sake of exert-
 
 LUCY LEE. 273 
 
 ing an influence and trying to do good in the 
 world. But I am sure I have thought a great 
 deal more about making a name, and winning 
 praise and admiration, than of doing good." 
 
 "With the consciousness of being capable 
 of surpassing others, it is very difficult to mo- 
 derate one's ambition to the simple field of 
 usefulness and duty. I know something about 
 it by experience. When uncle says to me, 
 as he often does, you know ' I expect to see 
 you President of the United States yet, and 
 make you a visit at the " White House," ' it 
 rouses all the old desire for superiority, and I 
 am almost tempted to cast off the mightier obli* 
 gations of the Christian soldier, and enter a 
 field where men and mind contend fbr prece- 
 dence. Which would be the better way, Lucy ? " 
 
 " You are not one who would abide by an- 
 other's decisions, Morton ; I learned that long 
 ago. So if I were to tell you, you had better 
 strive for the Presidency of the United States, 
 or for gome other office which calls for an equal 
 
 amount of wisdom and judgment in the eyes 
 35
 
 274 LUCY LEE. 
 
 of the world, I know you would not heed me. 
 But whatever your own conscience says, I am 
 sure you will do, whether it be hard or 
 easy." 
 
 "God helping me to take up the cross of 
 self-denial, I will I" he replied firmly. "And are 
 you willing to listen and let conscience dictate 
 your life-work too, Lucy ? I don't mean directly, 
 for one ought not to (decide upon things of 
 importance hastily. If I live I will come 
 back here in a year, and you shall tell me your 
 decision then." 
 
 Lucy made no reply ; but there were bright 
 shining drops trembling in her eyes, and ready 
 to fall upon the open book, which as yet had 
 the secret of the next day's lesson fast locked 
 within its leaves.
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 WHEN Doctor and Mrs. King returned, 
 Morton and Lucy had translated the whole 
 story of the Monster Horse which vanquished 
 Troy, and were deep in Latin roots. No one 
 'dreamed what graver subject had lain in the 
 foreground of the evening lesson. The doctor 
 took the opportunity to lecture them on syntax, 
 and showed plainly that the learning of his 
 college days was not all forgotten. Examina- 
 tion-day was at hand, and he declared that 
 any failure in the Latin class would be a morti- 
 fication to himself personally, inasmuch as he 
 had had abundant opportunities for drilling it 
 and hadn't done it. 
 
 There was no failure, however, when the 
 expected day came, for Morton and Lucy were 
 not of those who fail in any undertaking.
 
 276 LUCY LEE. 
 
 To good natural qualifications, they brought 
 unflinching purpose and untiring industry, 
 without which no scholar ever yet made his 
 mark. It has very truly been said, tJi&re is no 
 royal road to learning! Along the same dry 
 and dusty highways, and over the same rugged 
 summits, the student of whatever name or rank 
 must plod on and on, drinking at the same 
 rills for refreshment. Those only who loiter 
 and grow discouraged, find not the living 
 springs which impart fresh strength to go for- 
 ward. 
 
 Dr. King was delighted with the Latin 
 exercises; so were some of the faculty of a 
 neighboring college present on the occasion, 
 who bestowed their commendations without 
 measure. The compositions drew from them 
 equal praise. One of these was declared to be 
 so far superior to ordinary school efforts, that a 
 copy of it was requested for the pages of the 
 College Monthly. Lucy, whose composition it 
 was, would have withheld it ; but her friends 
 overruling her determination, she was soon be-
 
 LUCY LEE. 277 
 
 fore the public again, more conspicuously than 
 at first, her present article being prefaced by 
 some remarks from one of the Professors, cal- 
 culated to attract general attention to it. 
 
 It did not bring to Lucy's heart, however, 
 a repetition of its former joy. Seldom has 
 a second draught of praise the full sweetness of 
 the first, under equal circumstances ; and now 
 new thoughts of life, and labor, and duty, were 
 possessing her mind, and banishing the glitter- 
 ing dreams which for a while had charmed her 
 young imagination, and made her unmindful 
 of the sacred injunction, " Whatsoever ye do, 
 do all to the glory of God." It still gratified 
 her that her efforts should have won the 
 commendation of her superiors ; but there was 
 no longer the feverish thirsting for approval, 
 which imperceptibly even to herself had been 
 checking her highest moral progress, and hin- 
 dering her growth in grace. 
 
 Morton and Lucy parted without another 
 word relative to the future. He had much 
 study and preparation yet to make, before he
 
 278 LUCY LEE. 
 
 would be ready to enter upon the work of his 
 choice. "Would he be able, amid all the tempta- 
 tions to which he would be exposed, to keep 
 down the worldly aspiration, and remain true 
 to his simple conviction of Christian duty ? 
 This was a question Lucy often asked herself as 
 she went about her own homely duties during 
 the long summer vacation. She had no doubt 
 of it ; for she fully believed that Morton 
 King's fidelity to an honest persuasion, to- 
 gether with his natural steadiness of purpose, 
 would prevail over any or every tempter 
 which might assail him. The result proved 
 her judgment correct. To ambition, wealth, 
 and fame, leagued foes of the young Christian, 
 he was able to say, " Get thee behind me ! I 
 have enlisted under another Captain, in another 
 Cause." 
 
 There are more such heroes, my young 
 friend, than the world has ever enrolled 
 on her fame-list; but they are not forgot- 
 ten by the King of kings himself, who 
 will count all their struggles and victories in
 
 LUCY LEE. 279 
 
 his service, and crown them at last wore than 
 Conquerors. 
 
 To no one, not even to her nearest friends, 
 did Lucy speak of the new direction her 
 thoughts had taken, since that single conversa- 
 tion with Morton King. His last words to her 
 on the subject, " One ought not to decide upon 
 things of great importance hastily" were 
 well remembered, and often pondered in her 
 hours of self-communing and retirement. 
 Was she willing to forego all her own plans 
 for the future, to forget the sweet dreams in 
 which youthful hope had loved to revel, to lay 
 her home, her friends, and her beloved country 
 all these, with a second offering of self, on the 
 altar of her dear Redeemer ? It was a trying 
 question, one not likely to be decided too 
 hastily. It was a question to be wept over 
 and prayed over in the silent hours, when the 
 careless and the light-hearted sleep; when the 
 Keeper of Israel, whose watchful eye never 
 slumbers, bends low to his waiting earthly 
 children. Lucy was often pouring the tale of
 
 280 LUCY LEK 
 
 her secret care into his ear, daring those solemn 
 watches when the world was wrapped in 
 silence, until at last from the depths of her 
 full heart she could exclaim, "Accept the 
 offering, Lord, though unworthy I " 
 
 Morton wrote frequently to his uncle, and 
 sometimes a note reached Lucy through this 
 medium. He never questioned her decision, 
 however, or referred to it in any way directly, 
 though he often spoke of his own increased 
 joy in view of his chosen work. 
 
 It was a season of great tumult and political 
 agitation throughout the country, and while 
 most of his fellow students were becoming 
 violent partisans, Morton was able to look with 
 an eye of steady faith to him who will over- 
 turn and overturn, until He whose right it is 
 shall reign. How pleasant to think that 
 while the earth seems shaken to its foundation 
 by man's contentions, there are some who 
 stand serene and peaceful upon this high 
 mount of prophecy. 
 
 Never before had Morton experienced en-
 
 LUCY LEE. 281 
 
 tire satisfaction in his choice. Hitherto there 
 had been a mighty struggle in his mind 
 between the way which conscience had marked 
 out as the way of duty, and another, path 
 leading to heights giddy and bewildering. 
 But now from his exalted stand-point, with 
 the din of struggling factions in his ears, he 
 could exclaim in fulness of heart, " He hath 
 led me by a way I knew not of, and his ban- 
 ner over me is love." 
 
 36
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 WITH the spring that succeeded, fell another 
 shower of divine blessing on the languishing 
 churches of New England. From a few hum- 
 ble closets and lonely hearts had ceaseless 
 prayers arisen, that the Lord would revive his 
 work. The Lord has respect unto the lowly ; 
 His ear bendeth to their cry. Only a few 
 feeble indications at first foretold the gathering 
 mercy. Christians whose lips had grown un- 
 familiar with the language of Zion, and whose 
 feet had strayed far away into world-paths, 
 uttered low, broken tones of confession to their 
 more faithful brethren. 
 
 Where a spark of grace lingers in the human 
 heart, a little love-labor will soon prepare it for 
 the full breath of the spirit of the Lord. 
 Hence the blessed results so often attendant
 
 LUCY LEE. 283 
 
 on Christian conferences and communings. 
 From the hearts and homes of a few spread 
 the warmth and glow which was felt that sea- 
 son in nearly every section of our beloved 
 country. Colleges and institutions of learning 
 shared abundantly in the work of grace, and 
 none to a greater extent according to its size 
 than the little pastoral seminary among the 
 hills of Vermont. For some time had its 
 members been the subjects of special prayer ; 
 and when the first seriousness became appa- 
 rent, the pious teachers were prepared for the 
 responsibility of their work. 
 
 What melting seasons of prayer and thanks- 
 giving followed, as one and another of the 
 beloved pupils expressed a wish to taste of the 
 Lord's goodness, and to live to his service, can 
 only be understood by those who have enjoyed 
 a similar revival. How the hearts of old pro- 
 fessors warmed towards the youthful converts 
 just starting on the course they had been trying 
 to run, and had run so feebly, as they confessed 
 to them and to one another ! and how earnest-
 
 284 LUCY LEE. 
 
 ly were these exhorted in the outset, to leave 
 behind everything which might prove a hin- 
 drance to their Christian progress. . 
 
 Outside the school, no person seemed so 
 entirely interested and absorbed in the revival 
 as Doctor King, whose whole heart was enlisted 
 in the work. No one had ever seen him so 
 simply demonstrative before, not even in the 
 former revival of which he was a subject. 
 There was a lingering of reserve then, felt even 
 by his most intimate friends ; now, through 
 his great, warm heart the love of Christ shone 
 clear and triumphant. He was the first to 
 point the trembling soul to the Lamb of God ; 
 the first to clasp the hand of the timid believer, 
 and bid him have courage and be strong. 
 With the double charge of church and school, 
 the hands and heart of the faithful pastor 
 seemed more than full ; and a letter from 
 Doctor King to his nephew at this time 
 brought the latter very unexpectedly to Mr. 
 Robbins's aid, with his heart all glowing with 
 zeal for the cause of his Master.
 
 LUCY LEE. 285 
 
 Very affectionate were the greetings which, 
 welcomed Morton back to his friends and 
 fellow-students, many of whom recalled with 
 grateful emotions his former kind admonitions 
 and gentle Christian example. And now 
 for the first time he made known to them his 
 long-cherished plan of becoming a minister of 
 the Gospel and a missionary to the heathen. 
 It was at one of their meetings for conference, 
 when Christians were moved to speak freely of 
 the operations of the spirit within their own 
 hearts. 
 
 Many listened to the confession of the 
 young student with surprise ; for, notwith- 
 standing their convictions of his deep and fer- 
 vent piety, they had long ago awarded to his 
 superior abilities a place of lofty eminence and 
 distinction among men. They had never 
 thought of his forsaking all things for the 
 Kingdom of God's sake and the Gospel. 
 
 His uncle was one of these ; and when the 
 long meditated design of his nephew was 
 made known to him, he grasped his hand and
 
 286 LUCY LEE. 
 
 with tears flowing down his cheeks, said, "It 
 is better than the ' White House,' to go the 
 Lord's ambassador to a heathen land ! God 
 bless you, my dear boy." 
 
 There was not a dry eye in the room 
 as the doctor spoke, and every heart re- 
 echoed his blessing. It is a touching sight 
 when the young, at the call of country, for- 
 getful of privation and danger, go forth to 
 battle in its service. It is a sight to move the 
 hearts of men and angels, when such are will- 
 ing to take their lives in their hands, and go 
 to the outer posts of self-denial and danger, in 
 their Heavenly Master's cause. God bless the 
 Missionary of the Cross ! 
 
 The revival went steadily forward until not 
 only the school-pupils but most of the youth 
 of the town were numbered among its subjects. 
 With these were both Harry and Charley 
 Lee, and Lucy's heart overflowed with joy 
 and thanksgiving for her brothers. A most 
 affectionate relation had always existed be- 
 tween them, and except one point, entire
 
 LUCY LEE. 287 
 
 confidence. Lucy had long understood 
 Harry's desire for an education, and had 
 encouraged him in every way to persevere in 
 his efforts to obtain one. " Nothing is impos- 
 sible," she would say to him. " You can get 
 thoroughly fitted for college here, fitted even 
 to enter forward a year perhaps ; then you can 
 teach awhile, and I can help you a little by 
 that time, I hope. All father will be able to 
 do is to give you your time, but we can do 
 your sewing at home, and you will be sure to 
 get along somehow, for ' where there's a will, 
 there is always a way. J ' : 
 
 But now Charley, who had hitherto been 
 indifferent upon the subject, wished for an 
 education too, and what could be done? Mr. 
 Lee was not onlv unable to furnish the means, 
 
 tf 
 
 but could ill afford to spare both boys from 
 the farm. He had always hoped one of them 
 would be content to stay with him on the old 
 place, he said, poor as the inducements were ; 
 but if it wouldn't satisfy them, they must go, 
 and he would try to do the best he could
 
 288 
 
 LUCY LEE. 
 
 alone. Lucy conversed frequently with her 
 parents and brothers on the subject, and it was 
 decided to be no more than right that the 
 boys thenceforward should divide their labor, 
 and have an equal chance for an education.
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 SOME time after Morton went back again to 
 college, and things were going on in their cus- 
 tomary manner in school, Dr. King invited 
 Lucy to go and ride with him one afternoon, 
 over the mountain. It was Saturday and 
 half holiday, so she was much pleased with 
 the proposition. 
 
 It was a long time since she had enjoyed 
 her favorite ride. Doctor King took the same 
 old route they had often pursued the summer 
 succeeding her long illness, and ib gave them a 
 view of some of the finest scenery of the val- 
 ley of the Connecticut. Lucy's love for the 
 mountains had in no way diminished with 
 years; and as they rode forward, or paused 
 now and then to mark some feature of uncom- 
 mon beauty or interest, her heart was too fuJJ 
 37
 
 290 LUCY LEE. 
 
 for words. The doctor seemed in a less talka- 
 tive mood than usual, and so for a time the 
 ride promised to be a very silent one. 
 
 But when the last summit was passed, and 
 they began the descent to the village beyond, 
 where the doctor's errand lay, he managed to 
 break the silence by saying, " I had a dozen 
 things to say to you to-day, Lu, but couldn't 
 possibly draw you out of the clouds when we 
 were on the mountain top." 
 
 *' But we are leaving mountain and clouds 
 both behind us now," Lucy replied pleasantly. 
 
 The doctor seemed at a loss how to begin 
 the conversation to which, her frank reply 
 invited ; but after a little hesitation said 
 " Would you tell an old man a secret, Lu, 
 after he had -guessed it correctly ? " 
 
 " I would tell you anything you should ask 
 me confidentially, Doctor King! " 
 
 " Bravo ! my child," he exclaimed, " for you 
 and Morton are my children all the chil- 
 dren I have, and I have often puzzled my 
 grey head to think how I could do something
 
 LUCY LEE. 291 
 
 for you both. I questioned him a little, but 
 he stands in need of no pecuniary aid, nor is 
 he likely ever to do so. Now what I wish to 
 know in the first place is, whether my sus- 
 picions are true, and you are to share his future 
 life-lot?" 
 
 Lucy's reply was an indirect one. "We 
 both wished to tell you," she said, with blush- 
 ing cheeks, " and " 
 
 " And so kept it still as mice from your 
 dear old uncle, who isn't quite blind yet, how- 
 ever, and who will give you a blessing with all 
 his heart. I always hoped you and Morty 
 would fancy one another, but never dreamed 
 of his making such a life-choice as he has done. 
 It is the best one, however, though it will be 
 hard for me to part with both my pets at once. 
 Another thing troubles me. You know my 
 income haa always been all I could spend up 
 here, while my patients were sending beef and 
 pork, and corn and potatoes, enou.gh for two 
 families to eat. Now, Mr. Bobbins says he 
 will no longer take the hundred dollars I have
 
 292 LUCY LEE. 
 
 been in the habit of advancing him yearly, as 
 the income from his school more than meets 
 his wants. Why should I put it to interest 
 when I have neither child nor chick to come 
 after me ? I tell you, Lu, I've thought a good 
 deal about an old epitaph I've seen some- 
 where : 
 
 " What I spent, I had; 
 What I gave, I have, 
 What I left, Host! 
 
 " Now I don't want to leave much to lose. I 
 spend all I need ; but it is very little I've got 
 laid up for the future world. It is too late for 
 me to think of doing much work in the Lord's 
 vineyard myself, but if I could help fit a 
 laborer or two, it might be an acceptable 
 eleventh hour service. I've been thinking 
 about Harry and Charley, Lucy. They are 
 good, brave boys both, and would, I am sure, 
 with a little help at the outset, soon be able to 
 make bold thrusts at error. They need an 
 education for any profession they may choose, 
 and since your father is not able to bestow it
 
 LUCY LEE. 293 
 
 unaided, why may not I be allowed the privi- 
 lege of assisting ? " 
 
 Lucy could not reply ; she only took her 
 dear old friend's hand as he went on to say, 
 " You see I'm selfish in it all, child. I've 
 worked for self so long, it's hard to learn 
 lessons of pure benevolence now." 
 
 " You shall not talk so about yourself, Dr. 
 King ! " Lucy exclaimed, with tears in her 
 eyes. " You are the most unselfish person I ever 
 knew, any way. From morning until night, 
 and from day to day, you are always doing 
 for somebody, or making somebody happy ! " 
 
 " Hush, Lucy, and listen to me before you 
 eulogize me thus. Don't you see how my 
 locks are already as white as the blossoming 
 almond-tree, and how soon they must be laid 
 in the grave? Why should I not try to do 
 something which may be turned to my account 
 at last ? Why, when my eyes are getting dim 
 to the world, and my strength fails, may I not 
 have the satisfaction of feeling that if I have 
 done but little myself, I have encouraged
 
 294 LUCY LEE. 
 
 others, whom I shall leave behind, to work for 
 humanity and God ? " 
 
 It was not often Dr. King spoke so earnestly, 
 and as Lucy looked up and saw the warm, 
 bright light that beamed on his open, honest 
 face, she could not help saying, " What a great 
 soul you have got, doctor ! I can see it now 
 shining like Jupiter among the little planets. 
 I don't think any one need doubt that spirits 
 hereafter will differ in glory, when we see them 
 so very unlike here ! " 
 
 " They will differ, my child no mistake about 
 it ; but they will have to be weighed there 
 in the great scale of motive, and I've no doubt 
 that many a soul looked upon here as poor 
 and niggard, will there outshine the brightest. 
 Man sees no further than the outside, while to 
 the eye of Omniscience all the thoughts and in- 
 tents of the heart lie naked ! " 
 
 A long and pleasant conversation followed 
 respecting the influences which determine the 
 human will, and direct its actions for good or 
 evil, and upon the mysteries of those powers.
 
 LUCY LEE. 295 
 
 moral and spiritual, whose operations are 
 known only by their visible effects on the life 
 and conversation. 
 
 Dr. King had thought much, and reasoned 
 much. At one time, as we have seen, he was out 
 on a wide sea of speculation, in depths too 
 great for man's short line to fathom. Now, as 
 he himself said, his bark had been wafted back 
 by gentle breezes to the sheltering haven of 
 his childhood. The same faith his mother 
 taught him at her knee, was his polar star, 
 by which he trusted, when his orders came, 
 to steer steadily and safely into the port of 
 Immortality.
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 YEARS which have brought the young child 
 to manhood, and laid old age to unbroken 
 slumbers, have passed in swift succession since 
 the commencement of our story. No town in 
 all New England has been more blessed with 
 health and happiness than our little mountain 
 town ; none more favored with spiritual and 
 temporal prosperity. Everything now bears 
 the marks of thrift and enterprise. The vil- 
 lage is much increased in size, and numbers 
 several very fine buildings, among which are a 
 new and beautiful church, and a fine, spacious 
 seminary. A few families of wealth and 
 social position, attracted by the excellence of 
 the school, as well as the healthfulness and 
 beauty of the locality, have removed hither, 
 and contributed to its general prosperity. A
 
 LUCY LEE. 297 
 
 railroad has also been completed to a point not 
 far distant, bringing with it some of the refin- 
 ing influences of the New England metropolis, 
 as well as its luxuries. A ride of a few hours 
 now transports the Bostonian from crowd- 
 ed dusty streets, to many a quiet summer 
 retreat among the northern hills and moun- 
 tains. 
 
 Among the new and benevolent features of 
 our mountain town is a Missionary Society, 
 which promises much usefulness. Its mem- 
 bers are busily engaged now in preparing an 
 outfit for one of their number. Morton King 
 has completed his studies, been accepted by 
 the Board, and is soon to sail for Asia. Lucy, 
 a noble, talented woman, will accompany him. 
 Never for a moment has she regretted the 
 consecration of herself to such a work, though 
 fraught with self-denial and sacrifice. Never 
 do her young dreams of fame and worldly 
 distinction cast a cloud over her future. Her 
 pen is still the beloved companion of her medi- 
 tative hours, and gushes of song, sweet as the 
 38
 
 298 LUCY LEE. 
 
 skylark's, often tremble and soar upwards 
 towards the fountain of all inspiration. 
 
 She is home now, spending the last few 
 weeks before leaving her native country, with 
 her parents, brothers, and sisters. Harry is 
 away at college, but is expected soon to pass 
 with them his first vacation. Charley has 
 been studying with Doctor King for nearly a 
 year, and is already a great favorite with him ; 
 so great that the doctor insists, as soon as his 
 lecture season is over, the young man shall 
 take his saddle-bags, "step into his shoes," 
 and leave him to enjoy slippers and rest as an 
 old man should. Nothing could have been 
 more gratifying to Lucy than this. That 
 Charley should still be near her parents, with 
 the prospect of being able to cheer and comfort 
 them in their declining years, and be also the 
 friend and helper of the dear old man to 
 whom they all owed so much, was a source of 
 greatest joy to her m the prospect of separa- 
 tion. 
 
 How everytfiing had worked together for good
 
 LUCY LEE. 299 
 
 to them since they had loved God, was the fre- 
 quent remark which fell from her lips. And 
 the thought that, though widely sundered, they 
 would all be at work in the same vineyard, in 
 the service of the same good master, filled her 
 at times with serenest joy. 
 
 God's field ia wide, God's work is great, 
 And we all must help who can ; 
 
 'Tis better than fame, to write one's name 
 On the heart of a fellow man I 
 
 Such were Lucy's feelings poetically ex- 
 pressed. To lay the most shining gifts on the 
 altar of the world, appeared to her far less 
 great, and far less noble, than to stand forth a 
 witness for God's truth. " Give not your 
 youth to vanity, nor set your hearts on fame," 
 were her frequent exhortations to her talented 
 young sister ; " but speak and act like a being 
 endowed with a heavenly inspiration. Genius 
 may be a dangerous gift. If you feel the 
 fluttering of its wings, ask how you may best 
 consecrate its powers to the service of God
 
 300 LUCY LEK 
 
 and Humanity. There are as many fields as 
 gifts or laborers. Ask then in humility, 
 ' Where will my Lord have me work ? ' and let 
 simple, honest conviction decide the question. 
 Mine is to be a distant field, but it is no further 
 from our Heavenly Father's house than these 
 beloved mountains. We cannot go to that 
 house together. One by one, as we came to 
 our earthly home, shall we go hence when the 
 short work-day of life is over ; whether from 
 Asia or America, will matter little, if all safe 
 together at last" 
 
 The thought of parting for life with Lucy, 
 was a heart-breaking one to Ruth and Hetty, 
 her beautiful young sisters. " To whom shall 
 we go with our many hard questions and diffi- 
 cult problems, when she is gone ? " was their oft 
 repeated inquiry. " Who will tell us such 
 beautiful stories of the stars and flowers, and 
 show us how angels keep watch over the earth 
 continually? No one can tell as sweet stories 
 as Lucy." 
 
 " Ask rather how / am to live without her
 
 LUC7 LEE. 301 
 
 who for so many years has been my best 
 counsellor? " replied their mother in a softened 
 tone, while she turned away to hide the tears 
 she could not restrain. 
 
 But the time was drawing very near. 
 Already the religious newspapers had an- 
 nounced there would be an ordination of mis- 
 sionaries in Boston on the first of September, 
 and it was now August. Harry had got home, 
 and Morton was expected in a few days. 
 Twice a week the Missionary Society met now 
 at the house of Mr. Eobbins, and his wife had 
 her hands full, cutting and planning, and pack- 
 ing away little parcels, to be opened by her 
 young friend on a foreign shore. But every- 
 thing was done in good time, and the last box 
 stood ready for removal. 
 
 " She must be married in church, " said one 
 and another of her friends ; " the whole parish 
 will wish to witness the ceremony, and Mr. 
 Lee's cottage cannot accommodate so many. 
 Besides, Lucy belongs to the parish now, which 
 has pledged itself to support her."
 
 302 LUCY LEE. 
 
 It mattered little to Morton or Lucy where 
 the ceremony was performed, so they left it to 
 be decided by their friends, who were unani- 
 mous in favor of the church. The young girls 
 of the school, who had been Lucy's pupils, 
 carried garlands, and put bouquets of the 
 sweetest mountain flowers around the altar. 
 Mrs. Bobbins wrote a parting hymn for them 
 to sing, and the whole congregation were weep- 
 ing when the beloved pastor bestowed the final 
 benediction. 
 
 The morning sun of summer was shining 
 brightly without, leaving a glory upon the 
 mountains, when the carriages and wagons 
 laden with trunks and boxes paused before the 
 church door. 
 
 If you have ever witnessed the departure of 
 one under similar circumstances, you will 
 understand what heart-wringing words of 
 adieu are mingled with the tears arid blessings 
 showered upon the missionary bride, as she 
 turns away for ever from the home and friends 
 of her childhood.
 
 LUCY LEE. 803 
 
 A few carriages accompanied them to the 
 depot, which was only a few miles distant, but 
 by far the greater portion of the assembly 
 were left standing around the steps of the 
 church, waving hands and handkerchiefs until 
 they were out of sight. Mr. and Mrs. Lee had 
 parted with their child at home ; they could 
 not bestow their last blessing in the presence 
 of strangers ; so, as soon as the ceremony was 
 performed, they turned away to their own 
 home again, not even waiting to see the car- 
 riages depart. 
 
 The children all went to the depot, Harry, 
 Charley, Ruth, and Hetty ; so there was 
 another leavetaking of the brothers and sisters, 
 tender, solemn as eternity. They, who from 
 childhood had shared each other's joys and 
 sorrows, who knew all the dear home names 
 and sweet home places, the trees where the 
 robins built, and where the honey-birds huqg 
 their nests, the south hill-sides on which the 
 first spring flowers blossomed, the meadows 
 where the largest strawberries ripened, and the
 
 304 LUCY LEE. 
 
 spring of the sweetest waters, who knew these, 
 and all other dear places, such as every coun- 
 try household band have known and loved 
 together, were to meet an unbroken band on 
 earth no more. How many thoughts of the 
 past and future rush into the mind in a single 
 moment of farewell !
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 MR. and Mrs. Bobbins, from the first, had 
 agreed to accompany Morton and Lucy to 
 Boston, witness the ordination, and see them 
 on the ship which was to bear them afar. 
 This was a great comfort to Lucy, for it seemed 
 the last link was not yet broken which bound 
 her to her native hills. 
 
 Next to her own family she had dreaded 
 most the trial of parting from Dr. King and 
 his wife, who had been second parents to her. 
 It was a great relief and surprise to her then, 
 when they arrived at the depot, to discover the 
 doctor lifting a huge travelling portmanteau 
 into the cars, and see him arrange seats for 
 himself and wife directly opposite those which 
 Morton had selected for themselves. " How 
 
 very kind in you, dear Doctor King," was all 
 39
 
 306 LUCY LEE. 
 
 Lucy could say, as she pressed his hand to her 
 lips. 
 
 " Not a bit of it," he replied, hastily brush- 
 ing away a tear which threatened to betray his 
 emotion. "I'm all out of medicine have to 
 go to the city once in a while anyhow ; and 
 there's wife who put her foot down s.he would 
 accompany me this time whether or no. So 
 you see nothing could be done but let her have 
 her way for once." 
 
 Morton was no less affected than Lucy, by 
 this last token of his uncle's regard. " I wish- 
 ed this more than anything else," he said, " but 
 knowing how infirm you are, and how much 
 you have overtasked yourself of late, I did not 
 like to make the proposition." 
 
 " That is always the way with you and 
 Lucy. One would never guess at your wishes 
 if they didn't watch you pretty sharply. 
 Then to think of my over-doing myself with 
 that great boy Charley always on hand to help ! 
 He can already beat me springing a lancet or 
 pulling a tooth, for his nerves are young and
 
 LUCY LEE. 307 
 
 steady. Another thing which I wanted to go 
 to the city for, was to see when the next 
 course of Harvard Lectures begins. I mean he 
 shall go to these right off, and be the sooner 
 through. He don't mistrust a thing about it 
 though, and you needn't tell him, wife, for I 
 may change my mind." 
 
 The doctor's presence cheered them all the 
 long way. His fund of stories and anecdotes 
 was exhaustless, and he appeared to think the 
 little party had need of some enlivening in- 
 fluence, so he exerted himself as he had seldom 
 been known to do before, and the ride from 
 morning until evening seemed neither long 
 nor tiresome. 
 
 The sun was sinking low, when the grey 
 shaft of Bunker Hill was discerned in the dis- 
 tance, and soon after the beautiful " City of 
 the Bay" greeted their vision. At nightfall 
 the travellers were comfortably established at 
 the hospitable " Marlboro." 
 
 The next morning, after a drive around 
 the city, they paid a visit to the vessel which
 
 308 LUG7 LEE. 
 
 i 
 
 was to convey the missionaries to a distant 
 land. It was a noble ship, staunch and statety, 
 looking as though it might bid defiance to 
 storm and tempest. It was an object of 
 admiration to Lucy, who had never seen an 
 ocean vessel before, and who looked forward 
 to the voyage with a pleasant interest. " Were 
 it not for these bitter partings," she said, when 
 their choice of state-room had been made, " I 
 should be more than happy I " 
 
 A few friends met them at the hotel that 
 evening, and another young missionary pair, 
 destined for the same field. " Henceforward 
 we are to be sisters" the stranger bride said, as 
 she kissed Lucy's cheek, while tears filled the 
 eyes of each at the recollections which that 
 word awakened. Heroic souls ! who, at the 
 call of duty, go forth to combat error. 
 Heavenly palms, instead of earthly laurels, 
 await you. In God's name ye will conquer. 
 
 There was a solemn, quiet gathering the 
 next day at the old South Church to witness 
 the ordination of the missionaries. Few were
 
 LUCY LEE. 309 
 
 present except the immediate friends of the 
 parties ; for although notice of the event had 
 been made public through the religious papers, 
 it was a time of too great national and politi- 
 cal excitement for the people to heed the de- 
 parture of a little handful of Christian recruits 
 going to fill a broken company on a foreign 
 shore. 
 
 At the same hour, a vast concourse thronged 
 the open spaces around Faneuil Hall ; banners 
 were waving in the breeze ; martial music 
 was stirring the pulses of the crowd : eloquent 
 lips were discoursing of patriotism, and pledg- 
 ing eternal fidelity to the Union and the Gov- 
 ernment of their fathers. A volunteer regi- 
 ment was passing through the city on its way 
 to the " Army of the Potomac," and citizens and 
 soldiers were alike cheering it on its glorious 
 errand. The carriages of the little missionary 
 party, on their way to the place of embarka- 
 tion, met the honored regiment, and Morton 
 King, with a tear in his eye, lifted his hat and 
 said fervently "God save my Country, and
 
 310 LUCY LEE. 
 
 bless her noble defenders ! " For a moment, 
 perhaps, his thoughts reverted to his early 
 dreams of fame and distinction ; but no selfish 
 regret was in his mind. The old thirst for 
 superiority had long since subsided-, and left 
 only the purest patriotism and devotion in his 
 heart. 
 
 " All things for Christ ! " he exclaimed, as 
 he met his uncle's eye fastened upon him as if 
 to read the nature of his emotions at sight of 
 the volunteers. " ' His kingdom is an everlast- 
 ing kingdom, and of his dominion there shall 
 be no end.' Second only to His is the call of 
 one's Country." 
 
 " You are right, my children," said the old 
 man, with a quivering lip. " Fame, Ambi- 
 tion, Home, and Country even ALL THINGS 
 FOR CHRIST."
 
 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
 AA 000560742 9