i^0 1 \ CLEMENTINA'S MIRROR .-^--iif-^i^;?^' ,-U-i^.. -^1 , ^^^ •• C'li-mcntina bchelil a lovt-ly crfuluro icpojini: u]»(>n the wings of a cortreous biittcrflv."— Pairo 54. CLEMENTINA'S MIRROR; 9B, Si^ d^limpo of f itt. BT NELLIE aRAHAME. NEW YORK: SHELDON & COMPANY. 115 NASSAU STREET. 1862. Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 185S, by SHELDOX, BLAKEMAN & CO. In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern District of New York. CLEMENTINA'S MIRROR. CHAPTER I. I OTHER, mother, it is the week before Christmas !" exclaimed a y^ young girl, as she rushed into the. room where a pale, middle- aged lady \\'as busily engaged in sewing. "Yes, dear Helen, I have thought of it much. It is always a happy season to me," was the quiet reply. " I hope I shall manage to finish these shirts this week, as I intend to send them to your brother in a Christmas box. I think they will be quite acceptable, as he had so poor a supply when he left home." The mother smiled as she bent over her work 1* 6 CLEMENTINA'S MIEEOE. with renewed interest, and plied her needle with still greater rapidity. Helen did not seem quite satisfied. She paced nervously up and down the room once or twice, and then stationed herself at the window, seemingly much interested in watch- ing the passers-by ; yet it was easy to see that her thoughts were elsewhere. She had an absent look ; and she twisted and pulled her bonnet-strings in such an impatient and excited manner that her mother's attention was attracted by her restlessness. " What is the matter, my child ?" she said, at length. " You have not been still one moment since you came in.. Has any thing gone wrong at school? Something seems to trouble you. Whatever it is, my darling, you may be sure of your mother's sympa- thy; — so come, tell me all about it." Helen turaed from the window at the af- fectionate address, and throwing herself on a footstool at her mother's feet replied : CLEMENTINA'S MIREOK. 7 ** Nothing of any consequence, dear mamma. I was only wondering how I should spend the holidays." " Is that all, darling ? I must confess that my thoughts have dwelt somewhat upon the same subject. I will try to make them as pleasant for you as possible. May and Hatty, you know, will spend the holiday week here, and you will be very happy together. Then I will persuade your father to allow you aU to go to the Museum, and your uncle John has promised a sleigh-ride, if the sleighing continues good. Your little cousins are not so familiar with city life as you are, and they will enjoy seeing the houses, and shops, and churches ; so, much of your time will be oc- cupied in showing them the city. And not the least of our pleasures will be getting off this box for Willie. The dear boy will be delighted to receive some token of affection from each loved one at home," and, again, the pale face brightened into a loving smile. 8 CLEMENTINA'S MIKKOR. But the smile was not relBected in her young daughter's face. On the contrary, a cloud settled on the fair brow, and tears stood in the bright eyes. "I know that I shall not enjoy myself at all, then, mamma," she said, in a tone of de- cided vexation. "There is nothing new for me in any thing you have proposed. I do not believe the girls will be pleased, either. I am sure they will not find much amuse- ment in seeing fine houses and shops. I do not care for them at all, and May is two years older than I am. Besides, if there is any one thing I detest more than another, it is to show off the city to people from the country." " I had not given my little girl credit for so much selfishness,'* said the mother, with a grieved and disappointed look. " I thought you loved your little cousins so much that you would like to have them visit you ; but if it will annoy you, it is not too late to CLEMENTINA'S MIRROR. 9 send them word not to come. It will be a great disappointment for them, but I suppose you do not mind that." " Xow you are only trying to vex me, mamma. You know I do love the girls dear- ly, and have been looking forward to their visit all this winter; but I think I could con- trive something for their entertainment a great deal nicer than what you have proposed. You see, dear mamma," the little girl con- tinued, with a more hopeful look, "the girls at school have all been telling what they intend to do at Christmas, and they expect a great many presents. It would astonish you if you could hear Carrie Wood tell of all the pretty things that Santa Claus left for her last year ; and Annie Sherwood says she is going to have a Christmas-tree, and invite fifty little girls ; and she is going to wear such a lovely pink silk, flounced to the waist — it is a perfect beauty ; and almost all the school girls are invited. Now, I know I 10 CLEMENTINA'S MIRBOB. can not afford any thing grand, or splendid, but, as May and Hatty will be here, I would like to invite just a few little girls and get up a tree at home." Helen listened for her mother's reply in breathless expectation. "I am sorry to disappoint you, my love, but it can not be. In the first place, I have no time to devote to it. If I get Willie's box ready, it will be as much as I can at- tempt ; and you know very well that your father can not afford to go to any extra ex- pense this year." " That is always the cry : papa can not afford it !" muttered Helen, in a very audible voice. **I do wish I might have my own way, just this once. I do not believe it would cost so very much." " I hardly feel like reasoning with you, Hel- en, you are so very selfish, and unlike your- self, this afternoon. You know very well that I have been compelled to part with nurse because I can not afford to keep her, though CLEMENTINA'S MTEROE. 11 I have much additional care in consequence. As to this entertainment you desire so much, you are such a child that you can not estimate the expense and trouble it would be, at all. If you gave a party to your young friends you could not omit any, without giving of- fense, and I suppose you would hardly hke to invite them on such an occasion, without remembering each of them by some little gift. Then you have no dress that would be appropriate to wear, and I should be obliged to purchase you one. In short, it is entirely out of the question, so you must think no more about it.-' The tone of her mother's voice was so de- cided that Helen saw it would be useless to urge her request, but her spirit was so chafed and excited that she felt as if her discontent must find vent in words. "I do not believe that you care for me at all," said the naughty little girl, bursting into tears. "You could gratify me just as well 12 clkmentixa's mirror. as not, if you only chose to ; but it is always the way when I want any thing." Her mother was much displeased. "Helen, you may leave the room immediately," she said. " I could not have believed that you would speak to me so disrespectfully. Go to the nursery ; there is the baby crying now, and no one is with him but Julia and Char- lie ; I must try to finish this before dark." " Oh yes, I suppose I can take care of the baby," was Helen's soliloquy as she ascended the stairs; "nothing but work when I am at home. There are a great many girls of my age wlio go to our school, that have nothing to do but amnse themselves from morning till night, and no better girls than I am. I wonder why father is so poor." " How glad I am to see you, Helen !" said Julia, running to greet her sister the moment she opened the nursery door. " The baby is so cross this afternoon that I can not keep him still at all." CLEMENTINA'S MIRROR. 13 *'I do not believe you try to amuse him, you stupid child," was the affectionate re- sponse. "You always leave every thing for me to do, and I do not thank you at all, I am tired enough already." "Are you too tired to tell me a story?" said little Charlie, a beautiful little curly-headed ur- chin of about five years, ruiining up to Helen, and holding up his rosebud of a mouth for a kiss. " I wanted to see you very much, sister, all the time you were at school, and now you must tell me a real pretty story, all about the faii-ies." " Do leave me alone, Charlie. You think no one has any thing to do but to tell you stories. It is tiresome enough for me to take care of this young screamer;" and she lifted the little one from his crib with no very gen- tle hand. "N^ow run away children, and do not make any noise. You are the crossest boy I ever saw, Charlie," she continued, as that young hopeful resumed his race up and down 2 14 CLEMENTINA'S MIRROK. the room on an imaginary horse, which amuse- ment his sister's entrance had interrupted. " I think she is very cross, herself, and I ■do not love her any more," whispered little Charlie to his more indulgent sister, Julia. "I am sure you are most as big as she is, and help mamma quite as much ; yet she calls you lazy ancl idle." " Hush, hush, Charlie ! there 's a good boy," replied the amiable little girl. " You know she is not always cross. Remember the day you were sick, how she told you as many stories as you wanted to hear; and then have you forgotten how generous she was to me about the wax doll when she found I liked it, and how she said I must have it because I was the youngest? I guess something has happened to vex her just now, so we will go and play Jack Straws, and keep as quiet as we can." And the children seated them- selves in a corner with their books and toys. Helen, with her httle brother in her arms, CLEMENTINA'S MIRROR. 15 rocked impatiently, dwelling upon her disap- pointment with very improper resentment. But as his cries subsided and his head sank upon her arm, her tumultuous thoughts were hushed into a calm. She could not gaze upon the innocent little sleeper without repenting of the bitter mood in which she had indulged. He looked so pure and almost holy in his baby innocence, and such a sweet smile played over his rosy lips that it seemed as if the angels were whispering in his tiny ear of a brighter world — a heavenly home. Who can soothe a young babe to rest and watch the lights and shadows flit over the little face, and not be sensible of a hallowed influence surrounding that unconscious form, and not feel their un- holy and worldly thoughts melt away in the atmosphere of purity and innocence ! Child as she was, Helen could not resist the combined influences of that quiet, hour and affectionate vigil. The whole day stood again before her mind and she was not sat- IQ CLEMENTINA'S MIRROR. isfied with herself upon a closer inspection of it. True, she had been late at school, because her mother had required her services tUl nine o'clock. But she need not have been absent fi-om her arithmetic class had she not Hngered 80 long on the corner to talk to Gracie Lee. And, although Mr. Jackson reproved her for the disorderly appearance of her copy-book when she presented it for his inspection, she had only herself to blame. For, after she had tried very hard to write well, she was in such a hurry to enjoy the recess that she closed the book too hastily and blotted her very fairest attempt. And that recess had not been very profit- ably passed either, for she had spent the whole time in talking over the coming hohdays with Carrie Wood and Annie Sherwood, two vain, purse-proud girls, who delighted to excite her envy by picturing to her pleasures in which she could never share. CLEMENTIl^A'S MIREOR. 17 It had not escaped the sensitive Helen's notice, that Carrie Wood glanced rather con- temptuously at her plain linen collar, as she smoothed her own elegantly embroidered one, and that Annie Sherwood rustled her gay silk rather more than was necessary as she swept by her in her dark merino. Trifles these w-ere in themselves, but they had dwelt upon the mind of the little girl till they had wrought in her a wonderful dis- content with her own lot, and had caused her to give way to one of those fits of im- patience in w'hich she was too apt to indulge when any thing vexed her. Helen Grey was a spoiled child. The oldest, and the beauty of the family, she had always been indulged in her wishes and fancies till she had become rather impatient of contradic- tion. She had hardly ever known what it was to have a desire ungratified till lately,, since Mr. Grey, from some pecuniary losses,, had been obliged to reduce his style of living. 18 CLEMENTINA'S MIRROR. Helen was, in the main, a good, well-disposed girl, and assisted her mother much in her do- mestic duties. But, when thrown into intimate contact with the daughters of more wealthy par- ents, in the expensive school which her father still thought it proper for her to attend, she was often irritated by the contrast between their elegant attire and splendid houses and her own poverty and more humble home. Yet Helen had no real cause for mortifica- tion. The house which Mr. Grey had chosen for the residence of himself and family was rather small, it is tiue ; but home was writ- ten upon its portals in characters of love. And, though the interior presented no gay furniture and labored ornaments to the eye of curious inspection, yet the exquisite taste and perfect adaptation of each article to the purpose for which it was designed ; the per- fect harmony of coloring and arrangement ; might well refresh the eye of any whom friend- ship might induce to enter. CLEMENTIXA'S MIRROE. 19 Helen was, it must be confessed, perfectly conscious of some of the advantages which she possessed over her envied school-mates. She would n«t have exchanged her own re- fined and lady-like mamma for coarse, vulgar Mrs. Wood, nor her kind, dear papa, for the stern, forbidding Mr. Sherwood. - She could not be altogether unaware of the fact, either, that her rosy cheeks and glossy ringlets contrasted very favorably with Car- rie's sandy hair and freckled complexion, and that Annie's rich silk robed a figure which could never attain the symmetry and grace that adorned her plainer attire. Some day, little Helen, you will find that the good things of this life are more evenly distributed than you now think. Seldom does fortune lavish all her choice gifts upon the same person. ^ow let me try to picture to you my youth- ful heroine, as she sits in her little rocking- chair, gazing into the fire. There is grace 20 CLEMENTINA'S MIRROR. both in her form and attitude. Affection softens those hazel eyes into an expression perfectly bewitching in tenderness as she sup- ports in her arms the baby brother whom she 60 fondly loves ; the light brown ringlets droop over an^ partly shade a brow upon which is stamped both intellect and resolu- tion ; while the face, but half revealed by that fitful fire-light, is almost perfect in fea- ture and outline. Helen is very beautiful. She is indulging in no very pleasant feel- ings, hoAvever, just at this moment. Only the good can be truly happy, and she is con- scious that she has wandered far from the path of right. She sees too plainly now, that by her own tardiness she lost .her standing in the class ; by her own heedlessness she of- fended her kind writing-master ; by her own weak love of gossip she exposed herself tc scorn and humiliation, and by indulging en- vious thoughts she has even been led to be unkind to dear mamma, who is constantly CLEMENTINA'S MIRROE. 21 laboring for her benefit, and never speaks to her but in love ; and she has grieved the lov- ing little ones who so looked forward to her return from school. "I am sure I must have offended mamma deeply. Will she ever forgive me? How shall I meet her again ? But it is useless to spend my time here in thinking over evils; I had better try to atone to these little ones," sighed Helen, awaking from her reverie. Gently depositing her precious burden in the crib, she called the children to her side, and they, soon discovering her changed mood, hastened to accept her invitation. She drew her sister to her and strove by an affection- ate caress to make amends for her former unldndness ; while Charlie was soon made so completely happy by wonderful accounts of fairy land that he enthusiastically declared that Helen was the prettiest, and dearest, and best sister in the world. " I must say that I quite agree with Charlie," 22 CLEMENTINA^S MIBKOR. said a dignified looking man, who had entered in time to hear this last remark, though so quietly that he had not been observed by the children. "At least I can vouch for her being the dearest of daughters. " But you must not let this boisterous little fellow impose upon your good nature, Helen," mid he pinched the little rogue's ruddy cheek with an expression that was very far from disapprobation of his eagerness. " My Lily, too, is an interested listener, I think, though she is not so importunate in petitioning for your fancy sketches," he continued, seating himself beside Helen and drawing the fairy- like Julia upon his knee. [Lily was the pet name usually chosen in the home circle for this younger daughter. Almost every voice unconsciously softened in pronouncing it, for her transparent complex- ion and almost perfect character marked her as not long for this world.] " Come, go on daughter, do not let papa CLEMENTINA'S MIEEOK. 23 interrupt you," he said, turning again to- wards Helen with a glance of fond approba- tion. But Helen could not go on. Her father's loving praise, of which she was so unworthy, struck her to the heart ; and murmuring a few words about being too tired to talk any more, she tried to draw herself into the shade and thus to screen herself from his observa- tion. Mr. Grey observed her confusion, but not wishing to force her confidence, did not no- tice it by any particular remark. He con- versed with the younger children till they were all summoned to the dining-room by the sound of the bell. What a social meal this same tea always is to the loving family group! How delight- ful to the weary man after a day of care and toil to throw off all thought of that engross- ing business, to yield himself to the gentle attentions of his loving wife, and amuse him- 24 CLEMENTINA'S MIBROE, self by listening to the merry prattle of his little ones. How delightful to that loving wife thus to minister to those who are dearer to her than all the world beside ! How dehghtful to those little ones to expand the blossoms of their young affections in such an atmosphere of love! Has earth pleasures purer, sweeter, deeper than these? But on this evening there was an unusual air of constraint pervading the little band gathered around the cheerful board. Helen, whose high spirits made her the life and the light of her home was uncommonly silent and reserved. She could not meet her mother's eye, for she remembered too well her disrespectful treat- ment of her but a few short hours before, and she shrank from her father's approving glance, for she felt as if she were deceiving him into an affection, which, could he but read the secrets of her wicked heart, he would at once withee snch beaming countenances, and listen- ing with delight to the youthful voice*, till the excitement had in some measure sub- sided, when theT too claimed each a loving kiss from their nieces, and tried to ascertain whether they had been to break^t, and how it happened that they did not arrive yester- day. *' You see. Aunt Mary," said Harriet, " we could not all leave home at once, so papa could not come with us. He knew that Mr. Watson was coming on to spend the holidays with his sister, so he asked him to take charge of us, Mr. Watson was detained at Newark on business, and we could not succeed in getting here till this morning.'* "And we are real glad to see Von aU afc CLEME>"TrSA S MIEEOE. 45 last," exclaimed May. ** I ihoaght Chiist- mas would never come this year." "Well, girls, and we are glad to have YOU with us,-' said their uncle. "But now go to your rooms and rest a little while, for church begins at eleven, and I do not wish you to be too tired to enjoy the ser- vices.' Vain, however, was all effort to restore order till the whole party were dre^ed for church, and a pretty sight it was to see such a gi"oup of youthful facvs assembled together. Papa's eye glanced over his party with a Tery evident expression of pride and satis- faction. Though plainly attired, you would seldom see more attractive girls than the four before him. Helen's glossy ringlets and dark eyes served to set off May*s flaxen tresses and merry blue eyes to still greater advantage, while Hattie's dark complexion and glowing cheeks appeared more brilliant than 46 Clementina's mirror. usual, when contrasted with Julia's almost angelic face and pure Madonna expression. There were some doubts expressed as to the propriety of Charlie being allowed to make one of the company, but that young man was so earnest and decided in his wish to see the church in its Christmas dress that his mother yielded to his entreaties. And, could we take one httle peep into the heart of each of that family group, we should see a greater contrast there than we have found in their outward appearance. Mr. and Mrs. Grey, as they entered the sacred edifice, experienced feelings of grati- tude mingled with awe ; gratitude, that they were permitted to come up another year before the Lord in such circumstances of worldly comfoii;, and awe, in view of the wonderful mercy and goodness of God, in having renewed and sanctified them by His Holy Spirit, and revealed to them the rich provisions of redeeming love when they were CLEMENTINA'S MIRROR. 47 conscious that they had so often wandered from His ways, and made to themselves idols of the things of this world. Helen's soul was flooded w^ith a heavenly peace as she felt, for the first time, that a Saviour was indeed born this day unto her. Julia, as she raised her eyes to the inscrip- tion, " The Lord is in His holy temple ; let all the earth keep silence before Him" — to inscribe which text upon the sacred walls the evergreen had not unfittingly been chosen — sank upon her knees w4th a devout con- sciousness of that overwhelming Presence. While May and Hattie, too much ab- sorbed in looking around them to pay much attention to any thing serious, were only con- scious of the delightful melody of the anthem and the beautiful appearance of the church. The service ended, the children once more gathered around the cheerful hearth. The Christmas gifts were again produced, and ex- amined and admired. The games were all 48 CLEMENTINA'S MIRROR. tried to the infinite satisfjiction of the little ones, and all was gayety and happiness. But when evening came, their spirits seemed to languish. " What shall we do this evening, girls ?" asked Helen, as the lamps were brought and the blinds closed. "I have exhausted every thing that I can think of, and I must be excused from any further efforts. Who hns any thing to propose for our entertainment ?" "I have," said May Elliott, bounding from her seat and going toward Mrs. Grey with a look of earnest entreaty. "Aunt Mary shall tell us a story." *' Oh yes," they cried in a breath, delighted with the happy suggestion. "That is the vei^y thing ; a story, a story." " Please to say yes, mamma," said Julia, seat- ing herself on a little bench at her mother's feet. "Please, mamma," lisped Charlie, climbing into her lap and leaning his little curly head against her shoulder. CLEMENTINA'S MIKROR. 49 " Well, I think I will indulge you," said Mrs. Grey, with a pleasant smile. "Knowing your fondness for stories, I have composed one on puropse for your entertainment during this visit. But it is a very long one, so I can not read it all at once; but I must give you a por- tion of it every evening during the week." *' That is all the better, dear mamma," said Helen, kissing her. "Now we shall every day have a new pleasure to look forward to. Won't it be perfectly lovely, girls ? How can we thank you enough for being so kind, dear mamma ?" " Never mind thanking me now, love ; but wait till you see if my production is interesting. I think your cousins seem impatient for me to begin, so hand me the manuscript you will find in my work-table drawer." Helen soon found it, and all the children gathered closely around Mrs. Grey and listened with breathless eagerness while she read. 5 CHAPTER V. Clcmtiiiiim's glirror ; or, §\% Glimpses of I'ife. f^ NEVER saw aoy one so unfortunate as I am," sighed Clementina, as she sauntered away fi'om the house one pleasant morning in summer. " Here am I, young, gay, and pretty, and yet compelled to waste my existence in this lonely place ; while thousands no more desei-ving of fortune than I am, are rolling in riches, and followed, courted, and admired. ** I should like to go to this grand ball next month, if it were only to see how it would seem to go to a ball ; but then I know I can not have any thing decent to appear in, and one always likes to be as well dressed as other people. I wish I could be a queen just for one day, or better still, that there were fairies in CLEMENTINA'S MIRROE. 51 these days to grant our wishes. I should know pretty well what to ask for if one should appear to me. As the young girl murmured thus to herself, she entered the wood that was near her moth- er's cottage. She was so buried in her own reflections that she took any path at random, till, waking from her reverie, she found herself in a part of the forest she had never visited before. She was about turning to try to find some familiar object, when she started with an ex- clamation of surprise and admiration. Before her rose a bower of wild clematis and roses intermingled. The honey-suckle drooped its graceful blossoms from the neighboring trees, birds of varied and brilliant plumage warbled among the branches, and near by a little brook responded with its rippling song, as it danced merrily over the pebbles, that sparkled through the watery vail. There had been a recent shower, and raiti-drops still hung 52 CLEMENTINA'S MIRROK. upon flower and bough, taking the hues of the rambow, and lookmg like jewels in the sun- light. Clementina thought she had never seen any thing so lovely as the peaceful scene before her, and yielding her heart entirely to the spell, she forgot her dreams of ambition and envy, and the murmurs of discontent died within her. Entering the bower that looked so inviting, she threw herself upon a grassy mound and gave herself up to a feeling of enjoyment and repose. She listened to the joyous melody of the birds and inhaled the deUcious perfume of the flowers, till her senses were completely lulled by the enervating influence, and she slept. Was she dreaming, or did she distinguish silvery voices mingling with the grosser music of the birds ? She strained her ear to catch the notes of the invisible songsters, and dis- tinctly heard the following verse : " Say, mortal maid, what seek you here, Mid beings of another sphere ? CLEMENTINA'S MIKKOR. 63 A thousand elves of fairy land Dance o'er these hills a jovial band. The turf where you now rest your head, No human foot has dared to tread ; The song of yonder beauteous bird No mortal ear hath ever heard ; The fragrant breath of these bright flowers Ne'er reached another sense than ours : Presuming maiden, speak thy mind, Then go — nor cast a glance behind." " Who are you ? where are you ? beautiful fairy," said Clementina, gazing around her in bewilderment. " Who is it that addresses me ?" The voic'.fi continued : " Seek not to know me, maiden fair, I'm neither of the earth nor air ; For ever my dominions sleep 'Neath the vast curtain of the deep ; My palaces are formed of pearl, Around their towers the sea-weeds curl, Naught visible to mortal sight, Reflects upon their walls of light ; And 0*1 we seek this upper earth To see what its rude joys are worth. 'Tis here we hold our fairy court, Here revel in our midnight sport." 4* «54 CLEMENTINA'S MIKROR. " Take, oh take me with you to your domin- ions in the deep," said the young girl, as the voice again ceased ; her curiosity so strongly excited by the fairy's words that she was lost to the thought of all consequences. Home, friends, and fear, were all banished from her mind by the one overwhelming desire that filled it to explore all those wonders. Again the voice replied ; '' No, maiden, no ; you are not free To seek my realms beneath the sea, For you could never breathe, and Uve, The air our fragrant zephyrs give ; Nor could your eyes e'er gaze upon The matchless splendor of our suu ; For should they meet the dazzling ray That ever crowns the fairies' day. For ever quenched would be your sight To any orb of lesser light. But though you may not dwell with me, Look up, if you a fay would see." Clementina quickly raised her head and be- held a lovely creature reposing upon the wings of a gorgeous butterfly, that had rested upon CLEMENTINA'S MIRROR. 55 the flowers ; diamonds sparkled upon her robe of silver cloud ; a golden halo surrounded her slight form and made it almost dazzling, as she bent upon the maiden a giance at once tender and searching. Clementina forgot to speak till the voice re- sumed its song : " Have your words failed you, maiden bold ? Then do not speak — your tale is told. I well have learned the magic art To read the secrets of the heart. I see in yours sad discontent, And dreams of life in splendor spent. Wear next that heart this gift from me, And from these ills you shall be free ; For when tliis mirror meets your eye Each foolish wish will quickly die, And you will be compelled to see The blessings that are granted thee. Now seek no more these scenes to find, But go^and cast no glance behind." Clementina, who had not once withdrawn her eyes from the brilliant being that addressed her, now saw her bend gracefully forward and extend a silver wand towards her. At the 66 CLEMENTINA'S MIRROR. same moment there fell at her feet a large oval diamond. She raised it and found it to be a perfect mirror, which she placed in her bosom with an exclamation of delight. In a moment she was enveloped in darkness. How long the light was obscured she could not teU ; but when she could again discern ob- jects, she found herself reclining upon a couch in her own room, and she would have been tempted to consider the whole vision as a freak of the imagination, had not she felt the dia- mond resting in her bosom. For many days her mind was so engrossed by the strange thoughts awakened there that she moved contentedly on in the sphere of her duties, and her mother was several times heard to exclaim that she had never known Clemen- tina so docile and gentle and so anxious to make herself useful. But as time rolled on, the im- pressions produced by her visit grew fainter and fainter, and she became interested in the things going on around her. CLEMENTINA'S MIRROR. 57 Her young companions were all quite excited on the subject of the ball, and as the time ap- proached, and she heard their many discussions of it, and speculations concerning it, she felt once more the yearning to be seen and admired and the strong desire to participate in so new and exciting a pleasure. " I do wish I could go to this ball," she cried. " The Lady Alicia will be there, I am told. I have never seen a real lady in ray life, and I should so like to see one." Scarcely had she uttered the wish when she felt a slight pressure in her bosom, and drawing forth the magic mirror placed it before her. CHAPTER YI. S^Ije '§tix tBS, T once she saw a stately palace sur rounded by beauteous parks and gar- y^ dens ; every thing in the parterre and wooded lawns bespoke wealth, refine- ment, and elegance. Costly exotics shed their fragrance on the air, and tropical fruits hung in luxurious grace from the hot- house wall. Magnificent out-houses contained gay equipages and prancing steeds almost with- out number, while crowds of servants, dressed in expensive livery, seemed occupied in pre- serving order in the vast domain. Every thing in the interior partook of the same style of lordly magnificence. The walla were adorned with pictures executed 'with such masterly art that the scenes of other CLEMENTINA'S MIRROR. 59 lands were brought before the eye with life- like reality. Clementina found that, viewed through her mirror, the massive walls were no barrier to her sight. She raised her eyes and the in- mates of the apartment above were distinctly visible. A lady sat before a mirror extending from the ceiling to the floor. Diamonds sparkled upon a brow as regal as that of a queen, her raven tresses fell upon a neck that, by its trans- parent whiteness, might have almost put the snow-drift to the blush, and the eyes raised to contemplate the radiant figure seemed to have borrowed from the heavens their choicest azure tint. ' " Surely this beautiful being must be very happy," sighed Clementina to herself. "There, that will do, Dora," said the fair one languidly, to the maid who was attiring her person with anxious assiduity. "Place that curl a little higher, you have allowed it to 00 CLEMENTINA'S MIRROR. droop too much upon the temple. It gives a more graceful turn to the profile so," and she touched the precise spot where she wished the stray ringlet to rest. " Now bring me my lace robe. I shall wear that this evening, with pearls." " There is a bouquet in the boudoir, which Lord Neville hoped the Lady Alicia would honor him by carrying this evening; shall I bring it to your ladyship ?" " No, Dora, flowers are so common that one wearies of the sight of them, and their never- ending perfume is positively disagreeable to me." Her toilet completed, the young lady stood up and took a deliberate survey of her person. She was young and very beautiful, yet there was no flush of joy and hope as she stood thus. No soft blush rose to her cheek as she felt a consciousness of her own rare loveliness, and weariness was the only expression discernible upon her countenance. CLEMENTINA'S MIBROR. 61 "Lady Augusta desires the Lady Alicia's presence in the drawing-room ; her ladyship waits," announced a liveried sei-vant. The beauty vouchsafed no reply, but drawing a cloak of rose-colored silk around her slight form, left the apartment. " You are positively splendid this evening, mademoiselle ; you fairly surpass yourself in that simple . robe. I really must compliment you upon your taste in dress," exclaimed the Lady Augusta, as her daughter stood before her. " Your ladyship is pleased to be sarcastic," was the cold reply. " Xo one can be accused of sarcasm in pro- nouncing the Lady Alicia the queen of belles and the most peerless of beauties," said the haughty dame with a glance of proud satis- faction. " I am well aware of the fact, madam, and weary of its endless repetition. I am some- times tempted to wish that I might be called 6 62 CLEMENTINA'S MIEROE. plain, if it were only for the novelty of the thing ; or that I might encounter some rival with charms more powerful than my own. There would be some excitement in that. It might even awaken a feeling of envy, and that would be quite diverting." "What a strange whim, mademoiselle. Ev- ery one washes to be beautiful. Many are half dying with envy of your charms, and would be made happy for an evening by one glance from the adorers that you spurn in contempt. But will you not see his lordship before you go ? He is confined to his room with the gout, and is sadly bored. He expressed a wash to see you in full toilet." " Thank you ; no," — with a slight elevation of the graceful shoulders, — " his lordship must excuse me. He is none of the most amiable when indisposed, and I never visit him in his gouty humors, it is so distressing to my nerves." " It is of no consequence then. I would not advise you to go, if it annoys you. I have CLEMENTINA'S MIfiROE. 63 quite a curiosity to see how this ball will turn out." " All balls are tiresome ; but, in my opinion, this will be particularly so. I do not like this idea of having any of the common people ad- mitted, and was almost tempted not to sanction it by appearing there." " His lordship seemed determined upon that point. His political interest demands it, you know. It will not be so bad after all, for the whole of our cu'cle will be there, and of course thei-e will be no mingling among the people." " Political interest demands great sacrifices, I know ; but I wish for my part that we could be entirely independent of the people. One feels degraded by breathing the very air in com- mon with the vulgar herd. But let us depart at once." The two stately ladies swept from the apart- ment. Not harder was the diamond cross that rested upon the Lady Ahcia's breast, than was the inner jewel beneath it. Not colder was the t4 CLEMENTINA'S MIRROR. marble hall pressed by Lady Augusta's foot, than was the heart within her bosom. "And is this the being I have worshiped at a distance, and so often envied ?" exclaimed Clem- entina aloud. " Far rather would I ever remain in my father's cottage than possess an insensible nature like hers. I at least have the power of enjoying the beauties of nature, though fortune has been denied me ; and I now see that I have one blessing for which I have never been grate- ful — a feeling heart." Hardly had the words escaped her lips when the scenes vanished from her mirror, and find- ing that it would reveal no more, she returned it again to its hiding place. " There is the end of my first story," said Mrs. Grey ; " and now, my little ones, you had better say Good night." "It never occurred to me," said May, who had seemed in a sort of reverie, " but a feeling heart is a very great blessing." CLEMENTINA'S MIEKOE. 65 " It seems to me, Aunt Mary, that you must be very happy ; you have such lovely thoughts. Such things never enter my mindv Now, who but you would ever think of there being any enjoyment in just knowing when things are pretty ?" said Hatty. " It is really so," replied Mrs. Grey. " What pleasure is there in possessing beautiful things, if one has no power to appreciate thera ? Peo- ple who are constantly surrounded by luxuries become* so accustomed to them that they cease to give them pleasure ; and I often think when I enter elegant gardens and splendid houses, that perhaps they afford me more true happi- ness than they ever have to the owners." " Well, I do n't know," said Helen ; " I think I should never become like the Lady Alicia." "You think not, my love; but be thankful that you are not tried. The light of perfect prosperity might render spots visible upon your character, of which you are now unconscious." " There, that is enough of moral reflection 6* 66 CLEMENTINA'S MIREOR. for this evening," broke in Mr. Grey, rather impatiently. " Be off to bed, the whole troop of you. Julia's eyes look as if the sand-man had sprinkled a Uttle dust in them ; and as for Charlie, he is past rousing. I shall have to carry him up staii's." CHAPTER VII. N the second evening, Mrs. Grey was eagerly reminded by the children of the treat which she had promised them. A cheerful fire was blazing upon the hearth, and a breathless silence reigned over the little group as she began to read : Clementina mused much upon the scene that had been revealed to her, and when her mother hesitatingly expressed the hope that she would give up all thought of the ball, she was sur- prised at her cheerful and ready acquiescence in her wishes. For days and weeks she seemed like a changed girl, but it was not very long before 68 clementixa's miekor. she again relapsed into her idle habit of dream* ing and wishing. Home duties began to pall upon her taste, and the monotony of her home life seemed unendurable. Upon some requirement from her mother, she left the house in anger. " I do wish moth- er would be more reasonable," she exclaimed. **She makes no allowance for my youth and inexperience. She never seems pleased with any thing I do ; I am very unhappy." Tried, discouraged, angry, and, worst of all, conscious that she was willfully indulging in smful feelings, she threw herself down in the shade of an oak at the foot of the garden, and burst into tears. A slight pressure at this moment reminded her of the fairy's gift. She drew it forth and a new vision burst upon her view. A cottage stood before her, half hid by the ivy that held it in close embrace. A brook wound CLEMENTINA'S MIRROR. 69 its way through the lawn that seemed so peace- ful in its verdant beauty. There was no studied arrangement of flowers, but here and there a violet raised its gentle head, or a rose bowed in proud loveliness to the passer-by. The elm and the oak cast a pleasant shade around, and a weeping willow bent lovingly over the brook as if to kiss its tiny wave. " Here I shall find peace and happiness, I am sure," said Clementipa. But the sounds of anguish that soon met her ear told a different tale. Gazing through the transparent walls, which her magic mirror enabled her to do, she saw in an upper room a child who had known but ten summers kneeling beside the bed, with her face buried in the snowy coverlid. Her little frame shook with anguish, as her stifled sobs seemed bursting from a broken heart. As her mood became somewhat calmer, she raised her head and fixed her eyes upon a full- length porti-ait of a lady that hung upon the 70 CLEMENTINA'S MIRROR. opposite wall. The countenance revealed to view by this change in her position, was better formed for smiles than tears ; dimples should ever play about that rosy mouth, and mirth should ever sparkle in those soft blue eyes; while the golden locks fell in such sunny waves over her little round shoulders, that they seemed of themselves laughing in very glee. " Take, oh, take me with you, dear mamma," she cried, stretching out ter white arms with a look of passionate entreaty. " This is such a cold, cold world ! The sun does not seem bright any more, and the birds sing so mourn- fully. I want to live in heaven with you. No one loves Ada now." "No one loves you, darling," said a kind voice, and a middle-aged woman, dressed in deep mourning, entered. " Xo one except you, dear nursey," said the child, throwing herself into her arms. "I know that you love me, and I love you too ; but not as much as I loved my own good, pretty CLEMENTINA'S MIRROR. Yl mamma. Tell me all about her, nursey. You are sure she will not be left in the cold church- yard ? it looks so dreary there. She has gone to live with the angels and she will be with God. I wonder whether God loves Ada, nursey." " Yes, yes, my darling you must never doubt that," said the woman, as she clasped the little orphan to her heart, while a tear stole down her cheek, "God loves you and sees you all the time, and is with you wherever you go, and says that you must love Him and try to be good." " Then why did He take my mamma away ?" said the child, while her countenance was over- shadowed by a sadness, pitiable to see in one so young. " Perhaps you loved mamma more than you did God?" "But how could I help it? I have never seen God," persisted the child. " I know it, dear ; but it was He who gave you your mamma, and this pretty home, and all W CLEMENTINA'S MIRROR. the comforts that you have enjoyed, and per- haps He saw that you loved His gifts better than you did Him, and said, ' Little Ada must love Me better than any thing, or she can never live with Me in heaven ; so I will tell the angel to bring Me her dear mamma, and then, per- haps, she will try to love Jesus and come to Me when she dies.' " " Tell me more ; tell me again, nursey," said the little one, as a happier look stole «ver her pale face. "Do you think Jesus will care for such a little child as I am ? I like to hear you talk, dear, good nursey !" ^ Yes, Jesus himself said, Suffer little chil- dren to come unto Me, for of such is the king- dom of heaven. But I can not talk to you any more now, my loving little bird, for I must make haste to dress you. Your uncle will soon be here, and you know he never likes to be kept waiting." " Is it very wicked not to love Uncle Robert, dear nurse ?" said Ada. CLEMENTINA'S MIRROR. 73 "You must try to love him, dear, and be a good daughter to him, for I suppose you will always live with hira, now." " I do n't love him very much, and I do n't want to live with him. He hates children, I know." " Hush, Ada, you are naughty now," and the nurse stopped her mouth with a kiss, as she hastened to dress her darling for the last time. Ada's mother had left her no property, and she was entirely dependent upon her father's brother, who, as her childish instincts had rightly taught her, considered children perfect nuisances. He would fain have rid himself of his present charge had it been possible, but as he was wealthy and had no family of his own, a regard for appearances required him to take his orphan niece to his home. " There he is now," she exclaimed, as carriage wheels were heard approaching, and quickly was her little form arrayed in the deep mourning dress, that always conveys such a deep sense of 74 CLEMENTINA'S MIRROR. desolation when worn by a child. The trunks were all packed and ready for departure, and she stood trembling in the presence of her dreaded uncle. Robert Winthrop was pacing up and down the room when his niece entered. He cast 'one indifferent glance upon the little figure, quiv- ering with its burden of inward anguish, and said, " All ready ? Well, that 's right, I like to see people prompt." " Let me see," he soliloquized ; " this place must go for a mere song. Those lace curtains •might bring something, and this rose-wood furniture would do to put up at auction ; but the place is nothing, absolutely nothing. If Fred had only located it somewhere else, I might have made something of it ; but it was just like him to choose this retired spot. He always had a touch of foolish sentiment about him.*' As he rambled on in this manner he had entirely forgotten Ada's presence, but he was CLEMENTINA'S MIEEOK. 75 now reminded of it very disagreeably to him- self. She had b.een listening with her blue orbs stretched to their fullest extent till she gathered the purport of his words, when all fear of him was lost in the wild excitement occasioned by the thought that the home she so loved would pass into the hands of strangers. She rushed forward with a cry of grief and clasping his hand in both of hers and compel- ling him to look at her, she said, " Oh, Uncle Robert, you can not mean it ; sell the dear old place where mamma and I have lived so long and been so happy ! sell it, so that I can never come back any more ! Oh, no, you can not mean it !" " Hoity-toity, what 's all this ? Hands off, if you please, little Miss. Sell it ? To be sure I shall, as soon as I can ; and as to your coming back, I advise you to get that notion out of your head, for I doubt if you ever see this place again in your life." " And shall I never more come back, never, 76 CLEMENTINA'S MIREOR. never ?" sobbed the child in a voice that was almost inarticulate with grief. " And will poor mamma be left here all alone ? Who will tend her plants and carry the beautiful spring flowers to her grave when I am gone ?" "I advise you, child, to get this nonsense out of you, if you are to live with me," said the rough man. " Carry flowers to a grave, indeed ! Pray what good does that do to any one ? Nobody but a child or a fool would ever think of such a thing." " Nursey does not think it is nonsense. She says it is right for me to try to make it beauti- ful where my dear mamma lies, and she goes with me there every day," said httle Ada. **But, Uncle Robert, if you take me to live with you always, may not nursey go too ? She has always taken such good care of me, and she is the only one left to love me now !" "The only one left, indeed! So you set more store by I.er than you do by your own blood relations, and all because she encourages CLEMENTINA'S MIEEOR. tt you in this sentimental nonsense ! No, indeed. Catch me burdening myself with any more en- cumbrances. It is quite enough for me to be bothered with you, and too much, too. Come now, no whimpering. You may thank your stars that you have such a rich old uncle to live with, for I have plenty of money and no one to leave it to except you ; mind that, child." " But what good will money do ?" said the desolate orphan, raising her eyes to his face with that peculiar look of innocent inquiry so engaging upon the childish countenance. " Is the child a perfect simpleton ?" said the man of the world, starting back and regarding his little niece with a look of astonishment; "Why, money is very powerful. It will buy you horses, carriages, books, dresses, and toys,, and every thing nice you want. Money makes every one happy." "It will not make me happy. I only want my mamma, and it can not bring back my mamma," said Ada, shaking her pretty little 1* is CLEMENTINA'S MIRROR. head with a sorrowful and half disdainful ex- pression at the idea of such consolation being offered to her great grief. " Well, well, I have talked enough now, we must be off. Good bye, madam nurse, I do not l^novv^ what your name is. Come Ada." But the parting between the two who had loved each other so long and so tenderly, was not so easy a matter. Ada threw herself into her nurse's arms, and she, in return, pressed her darling to her bosom, as if she would retain her there forever. " How can I leave you, dear, dear nursey !" sobbed the child. " My heart will break, I ,know it will!" "Do not talk so, my own bird," replied the honest woman, almost as much moved ; " you will be very happy, I hope, without me ; and you will find many friends, though none will ever love you better than your poor old nurse. We may meet no more on earth, dear Miss Ada, but if we are only good and CLEMENTINA'S MIBEOE. 70 love Jesus Christ, we shall live together always in heaven." "Heaven is very far away, and it takes so long to get there ; but I think I shall go soon, nursey, I am so weary of life. I am so tired, sometimes. I feel very tired now." The light form grew heavier within her arms. Nurse raised her darling in alarm and looked into her face. It was as pale as death. Tried as her youthful frame had been with her first great grief and sleepless nights, this last drop caused her cup of sorrow to ovei-flow. Ada had fainted. "Do not wait till she revives. It will only give i-ise to more scenes, my good woman," said the unfeeling uncle, catching the lifeless form of bis orphan niece in his arms and bearing her to his carriage with hasty strides. "I do not see what fate cast this puny thing upon my hands for," he muttered. "All children are perfect plagues; but, when they have a little fun and life in them they are more endurable. 80 CLEMENTINA'S MIEKOR. As to this poor, pale creature, she looks as if she was likely to die on my hands. Bah !" The door closed and the carriage rolled away bearing the hapless orphan far from the scenes of her childhood. She was then alike uncon- scious of the misery of this parting, and the home she was about to enter; but, in after years when she has learned the falsehood of every promise of the world ; how the tendrils of memory will cling about that early home with its delightful and peaceful associations! As time rolls on, and friends fall off, and hopes wither, and phantoms of pleasure crumble into dust ; how longingly will she look back through the vista of the past upon this little spot, as fresh and green, amid the desolation that sur- rounds it, as an oasis in the desert. More than once during these scenes, Clemen- tina's sympathies had been strongly excited, but now her tears flowed freely. She recalled the thought of the tender parent who had ever stood between her and sorrow. She remem- CLEMENTINA'S MIKEOR. 81 bered the ready sympathy that had ever soothed her childish griefs, and exclaimed, " How dif- ferent is my lot from that of this poor orphan child ! How thankful I am that I am not in Ada's place! How could I live without my dear, dear mother !" Again the contented spirit dispelled the power of the magic mirror, and again it was restored to its resting-place near her heart. Clementina thus found another blessing in her comparatively humble life, which had been regarded by her so much as a matter of course that she had forgotten to be grateful for it. One thing she determined upon — she would never again murmur at her mother for striv- ing to correct her faults — and she kept her res- olution. Her obedient, loving manner brought great joy to the heart of simple Mrs. Sharp, though she was at a loss how to account for the change in her daughter's mood. " She is the greatest comfort I have," she often said, with tears of pleasure rolling down her honest face. 82 CLEMENTINA'S MIEROR. "Is that all, mamma?" said JuUa, in a tone of disappointment as Mrs. Grey laid down the manuscript. " I was so in hopes you would tell us what became of Ada. I want to know how she liked living with her uncle, and whether he was kind to her." " You must remember, my dear, that I am only taking a few glances into Clementina's Mirror for the benefit of her character. It would take more than six evenings to carry on all the personages that she becomes acquainted with, to the end of their lives," said her mother. " I know that, mamma," replied the httle gu-1, " but since you made up the whole story, I think you might just tell us how it turned out." " Well, my dear, what is it that you wish to know ?" " Whether Ada lived happily with her uncle." " At first she was very unhappy ; she remem- bered how much affection her mother had lav- ished upon her, and could not become reconciled CLEMENTINA'S MIRROR. 83 to the cold splendor of her new home ; but aflei a time she became somewhat accustomed to the change in her circumstances, and settled down into contentment, and even happiness." " I think she was very unfeeling to forget her mother," said May ; " and as to that old uncle, I am sure that I should have detested the very sight of him, if I had been in her place." " iNTo, my love, I do not think you would have refused him your affection, if you had known all the circumstances of his life," re- plied her aunt, smiling. " He had been sent out to try his fortune in the world when very young ; he succeeded very well in business, but just as he was anticipating the happiness of placing his parents in more comfortable circum- stances, he trusted too entirely to the integrity of a friend, and lost all. This was a great dis- appointment to him, both because it shattered his confidence in his friend, and deprived him of his hard-earned money. Before he was enabled to recover from this blow, both of his parents 84 CLEMENTINA'S MIRROR. were taken away. He had settled down into the belief that no one could ever love him because his manner was so rough and he was so plain in his personal appearance. So he devoted him- self entirely to business, and, at the time of his brother's death, was a whimsical, worldly- minded old bachelor, unloving and unloved." "Did he ever become attached to his little niece ?" asked Hatty. " Yes, the pretty little orphan crept insen- sibly into his heart. As she recovered her gayety, his affection for her increased, and he even put himself to considerable trouble to try to make her happy. He could not give her tender sympathy and gentle caresses, but he surrounded her with luxurious comforts, and tried to gratify every wish of her heart." *' Well, I do not know but I should have liked him pretty well, after all," said May, laughing. " Do you think that she could have had a horse, if she had asked for one ?" broke in Char- CLEMENTINA'S MIRROR. 85 lie ; " a real live horse, for her own self to ride on?" "Yes, my dear Charlie," said his mother. " She not only had a beautiful little pony to ride on, but the prettiest little carriage you ever saw, with a span of coal-black horses to draw it, ^\ hen she was tired of riding on horse- back." "Then I should have liked him, I am sure," replied Charlie, with enthusiasm. "I would have loved him dearly, and lived with him always, if he had wanted me to." The company smiled at Charlie's waraith of manner, and he was proceeding to enlarge upon his favorite topic, when Mr. Grey interrupted the conversation by calHng his young family to prayers. Good nights were then interchanged, and the little group separated, anticipating great pleas- ure during the remaining evenings of the visit. 8 CHAPTER VIII. ^HE rain pattered against the window panes, and the wind whistled mourn- fully through the streets on the third evening of the holiday week ; but all was cheerfulness and warmth at Mr. Grey's fireside. The heavy curtains deadened the sound of the wintry blast ; the gas burned brightly, and the coal fire sparkled and threw up little jets of flame as if it was determined to be meiTy in spite of the weather. Mr. Grey, wrapped in a comfortable dressing gown, with his feet thrust into a pair of slippers, had thrown himself into a rocking-chair, and taken the ever active Charlie on his knee. May and Julia were seated beside Mrs. Grey P:iSC S6. CLEMENTrNTA'S MIREOK. 87 waiting with the greatest impatience for her to begin her story ; while Hatty and Helen were busily engaged in working some very pretty coUars, evidently intended as presents for some- body. They laid down their work, however, and drew up to the fire with almost as deep an appearance of interest as that manifested by the younger ones, when Mrs. Grey called for her manuscript. " To-morrow will be the day for our pic-nic, dear mother," said Clementina, one bright sum- mer morning ; " and I am so glad that we shall have such pleasant weather. All the young peo- ple that live on the green are to be there. The girls are to be dressed in white muslin and crowned with wreaths of ivy, and the boys wiU wear black suits with sprigs of geianium in their caps and button-holes. We shall have a splendid time !" "Do not be too sanguine, dear," said the 88 CLEMENTINA'S MIEROE. mother, as she noticed the flush of joy and excitement upon her daughter's countenance. " You know vre can never be certain of any- thing in this life." " But I am certain, dear mother. Every- thing is arranged for the occasion. The boys have made a beautiful tent, where we intend to set our refreshment table. The weather seems favorable, and I do not believe that any thing will happen to mar our enjoyment." "Do you see that cloud?" said Mrs. Sharp,' pointing to a slight haze that hung over the set- ting sun. " To-morrow may be stormy, though it has been so pleasant to-day." "Please do not predict disappointment, moth- er," pleaded Clementina, with a gentle caress. " I know it will be pleasant, and so do you, I am sure. So do not make me gloomy by talk- ing of possible evils." The next morning Clementina was aroused by the rain-drops pattering against her window. She rubbed her eyes and tried to persuade her- CLEMUNTIKA'S MIBBOB. 09 self that she was still asleep and dreaming, but her efforts were unavailing — there they were, distinct and clear. She threw a loose wrapper around her and looked out. The day was most disagreeably and hopelessly stormy. Not a streak of blue sky was visible, and the east wind seemed try- ing to say, " I am determined to keep on blow- ing this way just as long as I possibly can." "I am the most unfortunate girl that ever lived," she exclaimed, in a burst of angry im- patience. " I never can plan any little pleasure but it is sure to end just in this way. Why should it rain on this particular day, of all the days in the year, I wonder ?" Clementina was indulging in very sinful feel- ings. She was murmuring against her Maker, and this time the fairy ?s gift beat so loudly against her breast, that she drew it hastily forth. Blushing, she placed it before her. 8* 90 CLEMENTINA'S MIUKOE. She immediately found herself in the midst of a large city. The hurrying crowd drove on and on, a dense mass of people with care-worn or happy faces, each intent on some errand of business or of pleasure. Amid this throng of strangers, Clementina noticed a slight figure laboring under a heavy burden. As it approached her, she saw it was a poor seamstress carrying a large bundle of work. There was a grace and refinement shin- ing through the mists of her appearance and dress that bespoke her of a higher sphere in life than the one she now occupied. She looked very frail; a hectic flush was painfully visible on her cheek of transparent whiteness. Her features were regular, and she would have been handsome, but for the painftd emaciation of her face and form. She seemed far from strong, and tottered so under her light CLEMENTINA'S MIRROR. 91 burden that Clementina felt compelled to follow her. She went on till she came to the entrance of a narrow lane, so dark that objects were scarcely discernible; yet, amid the pervading gloom dim forms were visible swaying to and fro, and coarse voices were distinctly to be heard. She passed into this vortex, treading the nar- row streets with a swifter step, only now and then starting aside as some drunkard was seen reeling to his home, or shuddering as a fearful oath from woman's lips sent the blood curdling to her heart. She paused a moment in front of the poorest hovel there, and then, slowly mounting a dirty stair-ca'Se that seemed tottering to decay, en- tered a small room. As her foot crossed the threshold the scene changed, and the very at- mosphere seemed purer. Poverty might be an inmate of that lowly tenement, but its perfect cleanliness and order announced that some trace 9gt CLBMENTINA'a MIRBOR. of the lady-like nature remained in her who owned it. This woman had been reared in comfort and affluence, but she married one beneath her. Friends cast her off, and they sought their home in this distant city. She was disap- pointed in him for whom she had relinquished all; abused, neglected, and starved, till death relieved her of his dreaded presence. And here the drunkard's widow labored unceasingly with her needle to earn a shelter and a scanty pittance for herself and only boy. *Tis a sad, though common story. " I am so glad you have come, mother," said a gentle voice. "I am very hungry, and the time has seemed so long." The speaker was a little boy about eight years old. His thin, pale face, with its subdued expression, told of privation and sorrow. Yet he seemed formed to be some one's darling, with his classical features, soft dark eyes, and coal-black hair ; had fate only cast his lot with clementika's mieeor. 93 ttie wealthy and luxurious of this world, instead of with those doomed to languish in scenes of want and obscurity. " I have bread, Willie, as much as you can eat, and I have brought home all this work; so we shall soon have more," said the woman, opening her bundle and producing a loaf of bread. She broke off a large piece for the boy and a smaller one for herself, and they sat down together to their evening meal. But the mother's portion remained almost untasted. Her thoughts seemed too much oc- cupied with other things to allow her to eat of the scanty fare. Tears stood in her eyes and stole silently down her cheeks as she marked the light that broke from the countenance of her child, at the opportunity of satisfying his hunger, and the eager avidity with which he swallowed the last morsel. She brushed them hastily away, lest the sight of them should mar his happiness. " Have you had enough, Willie ?" 94 CLEMENTINA^S MISBOB. " Yes, mother ; and this bread is very good," said the boy, with a bright smile, that told he had fared sumptuously for him. " Then come and sit by me. The moon shines so brightly that we shall need no other light, and I will not work this evening, for I have much to say to you." Willie stole quietly to her side and placed one little hand in hei*s. She acknowledged the mute caress by a gentle pressure, and began to unburden her mind of its weighty load. " My darling, I feel that I have not long to live in this world, and if it were not for you, I should be glad to say so. I hope I am pre- pared to meet my God. I glory in the perfect righteousness and atonement of my precious Saviour. He only knows the trials I have been called to endure. I have had little reason to cling to this earth. Its attractions have not been for me. But I would not breathe into your young ear the story of my wrongs, nor one reproach of those who, if they have sinned CLEMENTINA'S MIRROB. 95 deeply, have now gone to give up their account to Him who will bring every work into judg- ment. For your sake, my poor lamb, I would like to stay here a little longer ; but God has ordered it otherwise, and we must say. His will be done. I feel in my heart that my days will be few upon the earth. What will become of you when I am gone, I can not telL I am unable to leave any provision for your future, and I leave you entirely in His hands who h^*'^ promised to be a Father to the fatherless. My flesh shrinks from the thought of the privations that you may undergo; but, viewing it in the light of eternal things, it seems nothing in comparison to the thought that you will be sur- rounded by temptations and may fall into sin. Promise me Willie, that, whatever trials may await you, you will trust your mother's God and make Him your portion forever." Paler grew that young face as the mother spoke thus. More and more earnest grew its expression, and the sadness deepened in those 96 CLEMENTINA'S MIEROK. dark eyes; but these were the only visible traces of emotion. There was no tremor of the gentle tones as he answered, "I promise, mother." There was no burst of sorrow, no outbreali of violent grief, as he heard the death-knell of his earthly happiness. Willie had been nursed by affliction. He was the child of want. Had any sudden good fortune overtaken him, the fountain of his tears might have been unsealed. Born and reared in life's deepest shade, he watched the last ray of light fade from his prison walls without a sigh. His childish na- ture was completely crushed. " Make not the promise in your own strength my darling. I have prayed for you, that you may be kept from evil. Put your trust in God and lean upon Him, and I shall feel that you are safe. Then, whatever may happen, nothing can prevent us from spending our eternity to* gether in heaven. Now, come closer, my own loved one, and I will sing you to rest." CLEMENTINA'S MIRROR. 9f She pressed him fondly to her heart, as if there she could shield him from every ill; and 8oft and clear, above the city's din, above the distant cries of vice and wretchedness, arose these glorious words : " I would not live alway ; no— welcome the tomb: Since Jesus has lain there, I dread not its gloom ; There sweet be my rest till Ho bid me arise To hail Him in triumph descending the skies." Ere the hymn concluded, Willie's head drooped upon his mother's bosom in a peace- ful slumber, and she, pale watcher, gazed upon the starry heavens. Hour after hour rolled on, and still she sat there picturing to herself the brightness of her future home. And the angels looked down in compassion for her many soi- rows, and whispered to her heart of that blest eternity beyond the grave, and when at length she drooped, with noiseless wings, they de- scended, and bore her away from earth for- ever. 9 98 CLEMENTINA'S MIRROR. Sleep on, poor boy. Never again in this cold world will thy head be pillowed upon a mother's breast. Sad indeed will be thy awa- kening 1 CHAPTER IX. I HE ground is covered with snow, and cold and bitter is the wintry blast. It whistles through the deserted streets, while the almost blinding hail and sleet descend with pelting fury. Pity those who have no home on such a night as this ! " Please give me some money to buy bread," said a tremulous voice, as a little hand was ex- tended towards a stately looking lady who was hurrying home, out of humor with herself and all the world. It was a very thin hand, and shook with the cold, but the lady looked not upon the speaker. "I never encourage beggars," was the harsh reply ; and she pressed her warm furs more closely to her breast as she passed on. 100 CLEMENTINA'S MIEBOE. The little beggar leaned hopelessly against a lamp post and covered his face with his hands, while bitter tears forced their way through his trembling fingers. " What 's the matter, Bill ?" said a rough voice ; and a boy three years older than him- self stood beside him. " What are you crying 60 about ?" "I am so very cold and hungry," sobbed Willie, for it was no other than he ; " and I do not know where to find food and shel- ter." " Nonsense, lad, never mind that ; I will teach you a tiick or two. I am as poor as you are, and should suffer as much, if I did not live by the aid of my wits." " I am willing enough to work, but I can not find any thing to do," said Willie. " I did not exactly mean that," replied the lad, with a roguish leer. *' There are so many in want of work, that it is very hard to find employment ; but there is another way of get- CLEMENTINA'S MIREOE. 101 ting along. Do you see that baker's cart oppo- site ? He has gone into that house with bread. When he comes out let him find two or three loaves less in his basket. That will satisfy your hunger. And as for shelter, I know a rum- seller down in street. He has given a lot of us fellows leave to sleep in his entry. We 'are rather crowded, but I guess I can get you in, only you must be ready to do a little job for him now and then, without mincing matters much as to whether it is right or wrong, as the pious ones say." Willie paused ; the temptation was strong. His bare feet ached with the cold, and his tattered garments were no protection to his shivering form; but he remembered his moth- er's words on the last evening of her life, and he replied : " I can not take that bread, for God has said, Thou shalt not steal ; and I can not earn a lodg- ing by doing wrong, for never, willfully, will I sin against my God." 9* 102 CLEMENTINA'S MIEROR. "Then you are a fool for your pains, Bill. What good does all your piety do you? A fellow must live," and the careless boy went whistling on his way. " Please to give me some cold victuals," said the little wanderer, as the door of a stately mansion opened in answer to his knock. • " I have got nothing for you," was the gruff reply from a smart-looking maid-servant. "I wish there would ever be an end of these beggars. I am tired of waitihg on them ; that 's a fact," and she tossed her head con- temptuously. Willie wished so too, with all his heart. " You look very pale, little boy ; are you sick?" said a child, peeping out from behind her nurse, for that was the office of the scornful damsel. " I am very hungry," said Willie ; " I have not tasted food to-day." "Oh, poor little fellow!" said the child. CLEMENTINA'S MIRROR. 103 " Do wait a minute, I can make cook give me something for you, I know/' How light and graceful was her fairy form, ^s it bounded away on its errand of mercy ! How the young cheek ciimsoned with pleasure as she placed a whole loaf of bread and some cold meat in the hand of the boy who was starving! How beautiful did her blue eyes seem to the lonely child as they beamed upon him through tears of sympathy ! "She is like an angel, I am sure," he mur- mured to himself, as the door closed upon him, shutting him out into the cold night. " I have never seen any one half so lovely." No lovelier than you are, Willie, in your unflinching rectitude and resigned submission to God's will. She is not so deserving, and yet she is cradled in luxury, and you are alone in the world, " Where shall I lay my head, to-night ?" sstid Willie. He wandered on till an old shed at- 104 CLEMENTINA'S MIRROR. tracted his attention. It was old, and empty; but he was thankful for even this shelter from the driving wind. He shrank into a corner and drew his rags about his shivering form. He felt very strangely, but he knelt and breathed his eve- ning prayer, and a sweet peace stole into his soul. With a sense of protecting love, he composed himself to sleep. Now, how much warmer he has become ! What a bright light is shed around him, and what heavenly music floats upon the air! The storm must be over now. Lovely forms gather around him, and he feels strangely happy. Suddenly he raises himself and looks upward. " Mother, can that be you ? How beautiful you look, and you hold out your arms to me! I am coming, mother; wait, I am coming, dear, dear moth- er!" Willie's unconscious head fell back upon the snow ; his little white limbs stiffened in the winter's cold ; but do not shed a tear for him. CLEMENTINA'S MIRROR. 105 The real Willie was not there. He had found his home at last. Once more he reposed upon his mother's bosom. Willie was in heaven. " And I have dared to murmur because the rain prevented me from one day's sport," said Clementina, with much emotion. " How thank- ful I am for this pleasant home. I am sure I have not deserved it." Again her silent mon- itor was placed within her bosom. This scene produced a deeper impressiou upon Clementina than any previous one had done ; and a longer interval elapsed before she was betrayed into any idle wishes or murmurs of discontent. Sobs had more than once interrupted Mrs. Grey as she read her story of The Homeless Boy, and silence reigned for some moments after she had concluded. " Poor little fellow, how patiently he endured all the hardships of his lot !" said Hatty, with a suspicious brightness in her eyes. 106 CLEMENTINA'S MIBEOE. " I would have let him sleep in my house," said little Charlie, wide awake this time, and glowing with indignation. " I only wish I had been there." " I hope you will always feel as charitably disposed, my httle son, towards the poor and the destitute. But you must not talk any more to-night, for it is past your usual bed-time." " I shall never cease to be thankful for my home," said Julia, as she went up stairs. " Nor I," echoed May. " I am glad Aunt Mary told us that beautiful story. I am sure I never shall f jrget it." CHAPTER X. I N the fourth evening of the girls' visit, they gladly hastened to the sitting- room as soon as their uncle returned home. The storm of the preceding day had continued during the morning, and the afternoon proved so damp and dis- agreeable, that Mrs. Grey thought they had bet- ter remain at home instead of walking as usual. The consequence was, that they were com- pletely tired of each other's society, and were looking forward with eagerness to their eve- ning's entertainment. " I am getting quite interested in these sto- ries myself," said Mr. Grey, laughingly. "I really had not given you credit for so much imagination." ^ 108 CLEMENTINA'S MIEROE. " You need not laugh at me, Charles," re» plied his wife, with a shake of the head ; " you are at liberty to do better if you choose, but till you do, some one must amuse these little people." " He could not write any thing prettier, I am 8ure," said May. " Please do not talk any more," broke in Helen ; " I am so impatient for mamma to begin. She hai-dly had tiipe to finish last evening." " Well, I will waste no more time then," said Mrs. Grey, as she opened her manuscript. CUmenlina's glirro r— (D o n t i n u £ b , " Can you go to walk with us this after- noon ?" said Sarah Adams, running into the room where Clementina was seated with her mother. " We have made up a little party of the school-girls, and are going into the woods, Mr. Miller told us that perhaps he could accom- CLEMENTINA'S MIRROR. 109 pany us, and if he does, he will take us out to sail upon the lake." " May I go, dear mother ?" said Clementina, with a look of earnest entreaty, that told very plainly what answer her heart gave to the invi- tation. " I know of nothing at present to prevent it," said Mrs. Sharf>. " You have been so much interrupted in your studies of late, that if this walk were to come off earlier in the day, I should say no ; but since it will be put off till after school-hours, I think I may venture to say yes." *' Then we shall certainly expect you at pre- cisely four, remember. Good-bye ; I shall be late," and Sarah bounded away. "What a delightful time we shall have!" said Clementina, the moment she had left them. *' I have never been on the lake, you know." " Do not talk about it now," said her motlier. "Remember that the condition on which I allow you to go is, that you shall learn these 10 110 CLEMENTINA'S MIRROR. lessons this morning ; and you will not Lave time to do them justice, unless you improve every moment." Clementina was silent a short time after this, but veiy soon looked up again from her book, with some question that showed her mind to be wandering to the anticipated pleasure ; and this recurred so often that her mother at length arose in displeasure. " I am vexed, my daughter, that you pay so little attention to my wishes," said she. " I shall leave you to yourself, that my presence may be no temptation to you to indulge in fool- ish conversation, and I advise you to guard against idle thoughts ; for unless these lessons are prepared by half past two, I shall certainly decide that you remain at home." Mrs. Sharp looked uncommonly determined and dignified as she left tlie room, for it was seldom that she rebuked her only daughter in so stern a manner. " I hate the old lessons," said Clementina, CLEMENTINA'S MIRROK. Ill pouting. " I do not see the use of so much study. I am sure I do not care to cultivate my mind. I should like to play all my life I do not mean to try to fix my attention on these tiresome books, when I have something so much more interesting to think about." A bad mood was coming on, and she was beginning to be dissatisfied with 'herself and all the world, when she remembered the fairy's gift. " Perhaps it will help me to get my task," said she, drawing it forth. Immediately, she was conveyed to a large town, and stood in front of a plain, unpretend- ing dwelling, though every thing about it was arranged with perfect neatness, and there was an air of comfort pervading the place. All the window-curtains were drawn except one ; and half shaded by that, sat a young man playing with some little toys. lie might have been 112 CLEMENTINA'S MIEROB. handsome, had it not been for the vacant stare of his light blue eyes, and the foolish, childish smile that constantly played over his manly features. "I can not read this story," said Clementina, with a bewildered air. " Listen, then, and I will tell it," said a silvery voice that seemed to proceed fi-om the mirror. "A long time ago, a young man named Harry Strong married a beautiful girl to whom he was devotedly attached. He brought his bride to this house as their new home. The same air of comfort breathed through its aspect then, mingled with a warmer glow of cheerful- ness; and young Mrs. Strong, as she looked with pride and satisfaction upon her new pos- session and realized that she was its mistress, thought within herself that she was the happiest being in the universe. " Time rolled on, and the first fond afiection of the youthful couple for each other seemed to increase rather than diminish ; every hour was CLEMENTINA'S MIRROR. 113 wmged away with gladness, and still that home was the center of attraction to both. "And soon a cradle was rocked beside the hearth-stone, and a tiny form reposed therein, and large blue eyes looked out with innocent wonder upon a new world ; and both parents bent lovingly OA^er their little treasure mar- veling at its perfection, and laughing in ec- stacy over every development of the infant intellect. "A few more years, and the cradle dis- appeared, and the little Harry was at once the pet and the torment of the household. His little hands accomplished a vast amount of mischief, and his merry voice conveyed a vast amount of happiness. " But all too soon, the little rogue was suc- ceeded by the rough, rude boy ; and many a tear did the anxious mother shed over his mis- demeanors, and many a pang was inflicted up- on the father's heait, of bitter disappointment. Still there were streaks of goodness about the 10* 114 CLEMENTINA'S MIRROK. lad that led them to hope that the man would more than repay them for all their trials. " Mr. Strong was a passionate man. He had never learned to control his temper in early- youth, and it now gave way under a sense of his son's wrong doing. " Harry, as is often the case with rogues, got the credit of a great many sins of which he was never guilty : and, as his father was in the habit of punishing him severely, without demanding any explanation of his conduct, he became more and more hardened in his reckless course. " ' I have had a bad report of you, sir,' said Harry's father to him one morning, as he was preparing for school. * Your teacher informs me that you were absent every day last week. I have ordered him to let me know if this occurs again, so you will not escape punish- ment. This time I will overlook your offense if you will try to do better in future. You grieve me very much by such conduct, my son.' CLEMENTINA'S MIRROE. Ii5 " Harry blushed as he left the room. He did not care much for the threatened punishment, but he felt the meanness of deceiving his pa- rents, and the look and tone by which the last words were accompanied smote liira to the heart. ' I will go straight to school this morn- ing,' said he to himself in a resolute tone, as he turned from the door. " He was passing a corner near to the river when a little girl came running up to him and cried, as she caught his hand, ' Please, please, come quickly, my brother has fallen into the water ; save him ! oh, save him !' "The child was almost breatliless with the speed with which she had come, and a certain expression of terror, mingled with earnestness, proved that she was speaking the truth. "Harry, of course, could not resist this appeal. He hastened to the spot where the accident had occurred, and saw the boy at a little distance from the shore, with difficulty keeping his head above the surface of the water 116 CLEMENTINA'S MIKROR. by the aid of a plank that floated near to him. His strength was almost exhausted and he was about giving up in despair, when a cheerful shout from Harry put new life into his frozen hands, and enabled him to hold on a little while longer. " Without a moment's delay Harry plunged into the water, and, at the risk of his own life, for he was no swimmer, succeeded in saving the boy; but on lifting him from the water, he found that he had become insensible. " He bore his little charge to the nearest house, and after they had succeeded in re- storing him to consciousness, he made some inquiries into his history. " He found that they were the only children of a widow. They had left home that morning without permission and had not been able to find their way back again. They had wandered down to the water and amused themselves there, till Johnnie lost his balance and fell in, when his little sister, half wild with fright, ran ecreaming to the first passer-by for assistance, CLEMENTINA'S MIREOE. 117 " Harry thought he knew pretty well where they lived from their description of the locality, and he had become so much interested in them, that he would not leave them till he had re- stored them to their mother in safety. The way was distant, but he did not care for that ; he would have gone twice as far on such an errand, for he w^as a generous, warm-hearted boy. "The poor widow showered blessings upon him for preserving the life that was so dear to her, and wept for joy as she clasjjed her httle darlings to her heart. "Harry at length tore himself away from them and turned towards home. Then, and not till then, did the conversation of the morn- ing recur to him. " *■ I suppose Old Hunks has sent father word that I was absent from school again, but they can not blame me this time.' " Pleased with the idea that, for once, he could give a good account of himself, he en- 118 CLEMENTINA'S MIEEOE. tered the house fearlessly, and sought his father in the library. " Mr. Strong was seated there with a large book before him, reading, or protending to read, but, in reality, burning with indignation against Harry, for he had just been informed of his absence from school. " He was trying to think of some punishment that would make some permanent impression upon his erring son, when he stood before him. "'This is pretty well, sir,' he began, in a tone of sharp displeasure. ' Did you mean to brave my resentment, that you could not obey me for one day ?' " Harry, having the happy consciousness of mnocence, and Anticipating the turning of the tables in his favor, the moment his explanation should be heard, looked up with a smile and was just about to reply, when the words died upon his lips. " Mr. Strong had been dreadfully irritated ; he had already settled the question of his sou's CLEMENTINA'S MIEROK. 119 guilt in his own mind, and believed that he had nothing to offer in his own defense ; and now his conduct seemed to him so coolly insolent, that he could restrain his anger no longer. Without waiting for the paltry excuse that he expected, he raised the book he had been read- ing, threw it violently across the room, and Harry sank lifeless upon the floor. " No sooner was the insane act committed than all his anger left him. He raised his boy tenderly in his arms, and bore him to the air ; he smoothed the glossy locks from his brow and bathed his pale face with his tears, as he tried to call him back to life. *' But repentance came too late. Animation was restored at length, but the light of reason had forever fled from those large blue eyes. The book was aimed by a strong arm and it struck in a dangerous place. " Years have passed since that sorrowful day. The broken-hearted father could not look upon the wreck his hand had made, and soon went 120 CLEMENTINA'S 3IIKK0E. down in sorrow to the grave. His widow, thus doubly bereaved, followed him within a month ; and the poor idiot boy was the only one left in that once happy home. " A compassionate uncle took charge of the unfortunate orphan. He procured a com- petent person to wait upon him, and still allowed him to live in the old house, for which he seemed to have contracted a sort of attach- ment. It is his perfect delight to sit in the window of his little room, alternately gazing at the passers-by with a ^■acant smile, and playing W'ith some children's toys that have been pro- cured for his amusement." *' Oh, what a stupid monotonous existence !" said Clementina, " and the poor fellow was not to blame either. How thankful every one ought to be that has the blessing of reason. I am glad I have a good mind, and after all I do not think it is much of a hardship to be com- pelled to cultivate it." So saying, she applied herself to the dreaded task and succeeded in CLEMENTINA'S MIRROK. 121 conquering it in time. She pleased her mother by a perfect recitation, went to walk, and en- joyed herself very much, but I must reserve the account of this pleasant excursion for another chapter. "That is always the way," said Helen, im- patiently; "just as you get to the most inter- esting part, it is time to leave off." " Never mind, Nellie," said May ; " you know it is very delightful to have pleasures in anticipation." " I think Harry's father was a very bad man," said little Charlie. " Who kicked the kitty the other day, when she rolled his new ball into the mud ?" Charlie hung down his head ; " I did not mean to hurt her," he said, "but I did not think." " Neither did Mr. Strong think, when he threw that heavy book," said Mr. Grey. " Learn to get the better of that temper while you are 11 122 CLEMENTINA'S MIREOE. young, ray dear little boy, or it may lead you to do worse things than to abuse poor pussy." Charlie looked very grave, for him ; and, turning to the girls, his father continued : " It is well never to be too hasty in condemning the faults of others ; but when we observe them, let it teach us to guard against similar errors. Our lesson to-night will be the evils arising from the indulgence of an impatient temper. Let us examine well our own hearts to see if we are guilty of this sin, and let us determine, God helping us, never to rest till we root it out, if we discover it there." "I am thankful, dear papa, that you have spoken on this subject," said Helen, " and I will try to do as you have advised." " So will I," " and so will I," echoed May and Hatty, kissing their aunt and uncle Good night. " JNIay you be enabled to keep the resolution, my dear girls," said Mrs. Grey, and a silent prayer ascended from her heart, as the door closed after them. CHAPTER XI. H dear!" sighed Julia, on the fifth evening of her cousin's visit, " how lonely Helen and I shall be when the girls are gone ! I can not bear to think we must so soon part with them." "I think we shall feel even worse than you will," said May, "for it is so quiet in our home, that we shall have more time to think of you all. And then papa never tells us any stories to pass away the long winter evenings." " Well, my dears, I do n't think I shall take up story-telling as a business," interrupted their aunt, smiling. "You may console yourselves with the reflection that I shall not amuse the girls any more in this manner, unless on some 124 CLEMENTINA'S MIKROE. great occasiou, perhaps not till you come again. But bring me my manuscript, Helen, and I will commence, unless you would prefer to talk among yourselves." " Oh no, the story, the story !" broke in four eager voices, and the story was begun accord- ingly. " Come Clem., they are all waiting for you," said Harry Edwards, bursting into Mrs. Sharp's parlor, at precisely the time specified for the walking party to assemble. *' They are all under the old oak tree that stands near the meadow, and I just thought I would run up and call for you, fearing you might be late. I know, too, that it is always pleasanter to have a companion than to walk alone." "I don't know about that, Harry. Some persons greatly prefer a solitary ramble,'* " Nonsense, Clem. There may be such peo- ple in the world, but you are not one of them, and I know very well that I am not. So get CLKMENTINA'S MIREOE. 125 ready as quickly as you can, for we shall be the last, as it is." '' Do wait one minute. Master Impatience," said Clementina, giving a. parting, and, it must be confessed, rather an affectionate glance at the mirror as she carelessly twisted one or two rose buds and lilies of the valley amid her dark curls, and placed a large straw flat upon her head. " I am sure not one of the girls will look as well as I do," was her mental reflection, " and Harry Edwards will perhaps invite me to ride with him in his new pony carriage. He would not have come for me unless he had intended to do so. If he does ask me I will certainly go, for he is such a droll fellow and knows so many jokes that I always like his company. Besides, it is so far to Silver Lake, and the sun is so hot, that it will be much pleasanter riding than walking." " Come, I am ready, now," she added aloud to Harry, " and I am afraid if we 11* li$i CLEMENTINA'S MIRROE. do not hasten our steps, they will go with- out us." " How glad we are that you are come !" cried several youthful voices, as they made their appearance at the place of meeting. "Father said I might drive my pony car- riage, if I liked," said Hany, *' and it will hold three easily. So if any two of you would pre- fer riding, it is at your service ; only you must settle it among yourselves, who it shall be." " I give my vote, then, for Florence and Ida," said sweet Lily Vale, who always thought of every one before herself "I am sure they will be tired if they walk so far, and the rest of us do not mind it." " Yes, oh yes ; let it be Florence and Ida, by all means," responded many hearty voices. Clementina said nothing, but her counte- nance fell. " How very provoking, when I was so certain he would ask me," she thought. " Well, young ladies, what do you say to the proposition ?" said Harry, with a polite bow, CLEMENTINA'S AtlRROR. 127 turning towards a slight, pale girl of fourteen, and one about a year younger who stood by her side. We need not say that the invitation was gladly accepted by the two favored girls, upon whom the choice had fallen. The rest of the party walked on together ; chatting pleasantly, singing, and gathering ber- ries and wild flowers by the way. All were merry except Clementina, whose heart was filled with disappointment and envy. " Come, Clem, let us rest awhile under this beautiful elm that seems to invite us to its pleasant shade," said Lily, to her silent com- panion. " I am so tired with running about in the sun ;" and the two girls threw themselves down on the grass as she spoke. Then, for the first time, did Clementina's bitter feeling find vent in words. "I never was so tired in my life," said she. *'I must say, I think it is very delightful that we should broil ourselves in this hot sun, while Florence 128 CLEMENTINA'S MIBROK. and Ida are enjoying themselves in Harry's cool carriage. I do not see why you mentioned them Lily," she continued, turning sharply upon her ; " they are the poorest and plainest girls in the company." " Why, Clem., do you not really know the reason ?" asked Lily, returning her glance with one of innocent surprise. " Florence sprained her ankle so badly last fall that it troubles her even now when she walks far, and Ida was always del icate, poor girl. Mamma says she does not be lieve she will ever live to grow up," and the kind hearted child brushed away a tear at the thought, " Nonsense," replied Clementina, angrily ; " if people are lame, they should stay at home and not be putting every one else to incon- venience to accommodate them ; and as to being delicate, it is a fine thing, I must say, if one is to be so petted." " Why, Clem.," said Lily, " poor Florence seldom goes any where, and is so afraid of giving trouble that we had hard work to per* CLEMENTINA'S MIRKOK. 129 suade her to come with us to-day. And how can you wish to be delicate? I am sure I would rather have my own two feet to walk with, than to ride the prettiest horse that ever was seen. It is an awful thing to be deprived of health. But I must gather a bunch of the beautiful violets that I see peeping over the top of yonder rock," and the light-hearted girl bounded away, leaving her melancholy compan- ion to her own reflections. Clementina was just yielding herself up to one of her worst moods, and forming the de- termination to make herself as disagreeable as possible during the remainder of the walk, when a bound within her bosom reminded her of her silent monitor and its previous recitals. Eager to see if it contained any comforting mes- sage, she drew it forth. ^fee Infralib. Two young girls were brought before her^ deeply engaged in conversation. One of them iti6 CLEMEITTIXA'S MIEROR, was weaving a wreath of bright summer flow- ers, while the other reclined listlessly upon a couch, watching the fragrant garland as it grew beneath her companion's busy fingers. Listen- ing, she heard the following dialogue : " Oh, it will be so lovely, Eva. I am sure no one ever felt happier than I do at this mo- ment ! Every girl in the school has liberty to invite one or two fiiends, and the teacher has built a bower of evergreens, with a throne in it for the queen. To think that they have chosen me from all the others, and I am to make a speech too, that is the worst of it. I am almost sorry, after all, that it is not to be Minna Carle- ton instead of me, she is so graceful and an- imated." " 1^0 one can do any better than you can, dear Ella, if you would only have a little more confidence in yourself. I am sure, I, for one, think they showed their good judgment in selecting you for their queen," murmured Eva. *' How beautiful those white rose buds will look CLEMENTINA'S MIRROE. 131 in your dark hair ! You must be sure to come in and see me before you go, for I wish to be the first to greet your majesty." " How I wish you could be one of my maids of honor, my dearest friend ! I know I should enjoy myself twice as well. But what is the matter, darling ?" she added, as a slight spasm contracted her companion's face. " Is that pain coming on again ?" " Yes ; but do not disturb yourself, it will be over soon. It is never very hard to bear except at night ; then it is the sharpest and continues the longest." " How can you be so patient, Eva ? I have so much to make me happy, and I am so often fretful and discontented ; and here you arc, so young, and so much more beautiful than any one I have ever seen, confined day after day to this darkened room, while all the girls of your age are enjoying this beautiful world. Yet do you know, darling, I sometimes think you are happier amid all your suffering than we are." 1S2 CLEMENTINA'S MIREOR. " That is because I have sources of happiness that you know not of. The pain that I endure Is nothing in comparison with the inward peace that I enjoy. I can not sport in the sunshine or amid the flowers, it is true ; but He who created both the sun and the flowers, is my Friend and Comforter. Leaning upon His arm, I walk through the valley of the shadow of death and fear no evil. He whispers peace to my fainting spirit, and though he shuts me out from earthly pleasures, opens my eyes to behold the rays of the eternal dawn, and floods my soul with heavenly light. Often and often, dear Ella, as I have struggled with my parox- ysms of pain, I have seemed to hear the voices of angels round the throne, and felt that it would not be long before I should bathe in that sea of glory, and make one of that adoring choir. And when I reach that home, how tri- fling will this world seem with its pleasures and its pains, how light the suffering that has pre- pared me for such a rest !" CLEMENTINA'S MIRROR. 133 As she Spoke, the face of the youthful Chris- tian became bright as that of an angel. The flush of enthusiasm kindled on the pale cheek and lighted the dark eyes with an almost super- natural luster. Her gaze was fixed heavenward, and so rapt did she seem in this vision of the joys that awaited her, that Ella almost trem- bled lest she should never bring it back to the images of earth. Ella gazed upon her with admiration mingled with awe. She knew not of the peace of which she spoke, by experience ; and she had never heard her friend speak thus openly before of the hope which sustained her. What would she not have given for such a faith and hope ? Yes, for a moment, the gay, the merry, the beautiM Ella, envied the poor, crippled friend whose lot was so full of privation and suffering. "I never shall be as good as you are," she sighed, " and it is useless for me to try." " Oh, you must not talk of my goodness, Ella. If that were my only reliance, I should 12 134 CLEMENTINA'S MIEKOR. be helpless indeed. But I know that Christ has died for me. I know that my Redeemer liveth, and clothed with His perfect righteousness, I go forward without fear, to receive my crown of rejoicing." " But you must be a great deal better than I am, naturally," persisted Eva. " You never could have been so wicked as I am, or you would not be so patient and resigned." " You must never speak so of me again," said Eva, turning upon her a sorrowful glance. *' You do not know the painful memories that you awaken. There never was a prouder, harder heart than mine in the days of my early youth. I have half a mind to tell you the story of my life ; you have often expressed a wish to hear it, and it may serve as a warning to you." *' Oh, do, darling ! I am ready to listen to you now. I have often longed to know if you were always as I now see you." "No, Ella. I was not always lame. I was once as gay and thoughtless, but far more CLEMENTINA'S MIKKOE. 135 worldly than you are, my darling. I had often been told that I was beautiful, and I gloried in the thought, entirely forgetful of Him who bestowed this blessing upon me. Nothing delighted me more than to deck my lovely form in the most becoming manner, and, ming- ling among my youthful companions, to hear whispers of ' lovely,' ' perfectly charming,' * how beautiful she is !' "I would affect to treat such tributes of admiration with indifference, but my steps were more elastic as I bounded away from the scenes of my girlish triumphs. My heart was filled with joy, as I noticed how anxious all were to secure my friendship, and I even exulted in the ill-concealed envy of some of the more ill- natured among them, as it fed the flames of my vanity. * "I was early deprived of a mother's care, and my kind aunt, who would gladly have filled her place, could never gain much control over my high sj^irit. I loved my gentle auntie 136 CLEMENTINA'S MIRROR. dearly, and was willing to do almost any thing for her except the only thing she wished. I would not be guided by her, and as to listen- ing to her homilies, as I disrespectfully termed them, that was too much for her to expect. " She had not a mother's authority, though she had a mother's love for her rebellious charge, and after many attempts to win me to more serious moods, she was compelled to allow me to go on in my own frivolous career. So I passed on with hardly a serious reflection, till I reached my sixteenth year. " A few weeks after I celebrated my fifteenth birthday, there was to be a ball given at the public house of the village where we Uved, and all the fashionable and wealthy were going to attend. JVfany of my companions were among the favored ban^, and I heard them describe the music, the dancing, the gay dress, and the many delights attendant upon such an occasion, till I longed to share in this hitherto forbidden pleasure. Something whispered in CLEMENTINA'S MIKEOR, 137 my heart that I should be more sought and admired than the richest belle there, if I might only go. But I did not know how to accom- plish my wishes. " My father was a kind, easy man, fondly thinking his only child every thing that was perfect, and seldom interfering with my pleas- ures. But he was as firm as a rock where his principles were concerned, and I knew that he not only totally disapproved of public balls, but that he would consider me far too young to enter into general society, even had he ap- proved of them. *' He had never allowed me to learn to dance that I might not be led into temptation ; but I had managed to catch the steps from some of my more fortunate fiiends (as I then thought them), and, aided by a little practice, and the natural grace and lightness of my movements, I had become a very good dancer. I now longed for an opportunity to exhibit this cher- ished accomplishment. There were many dif 12* 138 CLEMENTTN-A'S MIKROE. ficulties to be overcome, but I did not de- spair. " Never did a daughter exert herself moi*e to please a father than I did on the night I pre- ferred my request. I arrayed myself in my most becoming dress. My school reports were perfect, and there was one special clause com- mending my conduct which I knew it would delight him to see. His slippers and dressing gown were warmed and ready for his use ; and his coffee, which I carefully prepared with my own hands, was never better suited to his taste. My aunt seemed to suspect some hidden mo* tive for this unusual amiability ; but my unsus- pecting father yielded himself entirely to the delight of my attentions. "I exerted myself to the utmost on seeing this, and mine were no common powers of fas- cination. As his eye, beaming with pride and pleasure, rested upon me, I told him of my cherished wish. For an instant he hesitated, and I thought I had conquered ; but I little CLEMENTINA'S MIRROR. 139 knew my father. He only hesitated, because he could not bear to pain his darling by a re- fusal. It came at last ; and the decision of his tone and manner might have convinced me that ray suit was hopeless. Still I begged and en- treated. It was useless, and, at last, wearied by my importunity, he left the room, desiring me to think no more of it. " It was well that he could not see the storm of passion that was raging in my heart. I went to my room, threw myself upon my bed, and wept without restraint for some time. I slept in a little room within my aunt's, and could only enter it by passing through hers. I heard her come up stairs and approach my door. She spoke to me, but receiving no answer, supposed I had fallen asleep, and quietly retired to rest. "I was still restless and unhappy. I arose and looked out. The moon was shining in all her splendor, but her pure beams brought no calm to my troubled spirit. " Thoughts of the forbidden pleasure were 140 CLEMENTINA'S MIRKOE. rushing through my mind like a strong deep river, and wave after wave of vanity rolled over, and entirely swallowed up every high and holy aspiration. I pictured to myself the scene of gayety, the flattered belles, the attendant beaux, the merry dance, the peals of music, till my heart ached and my tears flowed afresh. " Suddenly the temptei whispered, ' Why not go to the ball ? Your father is foolish and whimsical. Why should you allow yourself to be kept away from so innocent an entertain- ment by his prohibition ?' " At first I started with horror at the thought ; but as I did not immediately banish it from my mind, it returned again and again. As it be- came more familiar, it did not seem so repul sive, and at last, so much did my wishes blind my judgment, that it seemed almost inno- cent. " But there was another difficulty to be over- come. I could not go out through my aunt's room without arousing her, and I thought I CLEMENTINA'S MIRROR. 141 should be obliged to relinquish my purpose after all. But Satan soon devised a plan by which I could gratify my evil desire. " My window opened upon a balcony. From that descended a trellis work to support my favorite vines, planted by ray father to please my taste. He little thought it would ever help me to disobey him. I shook it with my hand, and found that it was firm enough to support my weight. " My resolution was taken. " I softly lighted a candle, and proceeded to the business of the toilette. I drew forth a pretty dress of white muslin, the only article at all suitable for such an occasion which my wardrobe afforded. I looped up the sleeves and skirt with bunches of white rose buds and geranium leaves that I had happened to place in my vase that morning. " Another bouquet of the same flowers rested upon my bosom. I gathered up my flowing curls, and confined them with a pearl comb— 142 CLEMENTINA'S MIKROE. my mother's gift — alas ! that I could ever have worn it on such an occasion — and arranged a few white blossoms "vvith studied carelessness among them. " My heart fluttered with nervous joy as I cast a satisfied glance at the beautiful face and form reflected in my little mirror ; yet, even as I drew my cloak around me, my conscience gave an uncomfortable twinge. I had fully made up my mind to go at all hazards. I had even planned how I could enter with a friend, Bo that my father would never know it. I said to myself over and over again that it was per- fectly innocent ; but I could not cheat myself. I, who had never known fear before, started at my own shadow in the moonlight. The even- ing was warm, yet I felt a cold chill creeping through my veins. " The trellis was strong, but my foot was un- steady. I placed it upon the slender lattice- work, took one step in my descent, slipped and fell. I remember a sharp pain shooting through CLEMENTINA'S MIRROR. 143 my back, a long, loud cry of agony, and then all was darkness. " When I came to myself my father and aunt were bending over me. My face was covered with conscious blushes, but I read no reproaches in theirs — nothing but deep pity, tenderness and anxiety for me. " ' Forgive,' I whispered in my father's ear. " *• All is freely forgiven, my child,' was hia kind reply. ' Do not agitate yourself by speak- ing of the past now. You have been very ill, but now we trust you will soon be better.' " Ella, I recovered from that sickness ; but I have never since then stood upon my feet. I fell upon my back with such violence that I injured my spine; and when I tried to rise, found that I had entirely lost the use of ray limbs. ** What suffering was mine when the truth first revealed itself to me, I trust you may never know. I was rebellious and peevish. I longed for death, and yet I feared to die. Many hours 144 CLEMENTINA'S MIRKOE. of pain succeeded, but at last my soul found peace. " My father and aunt were both sincere Christians. Though they grieved over their darling, and sympathized in my sufferings, they manifested a cheerful resignation to the will of Heaven. They both devoted themselves entire- ly to me ; they prayed for and with me till the light broke upon my dark spirit. I learned to bless the hand that had laid me low ; and now I «an thank my heavenly Father that He has cut me off from the earthly objects that I loved so well, and that proved such a snare to me, and that He has revealed Himself unto me." " It is hard, very hard," said Ella, who had been silently weeping. " I think you were too severely punished for a single fault. Four years of suffering for one act of disobedience !" " Beware how you speak thus, darling. Think whom yoji accuse of injustice when you pro- nounce my punishment too severe. Our first parents brought sin into the world by a single CLEMENTINA'S MIRROR. 145 act of disobedience. How can I murmur then when a similar transgression has opened unto me the gates of eternal life ? But I must not talk any more now, for I am very tired. Go and dress and come in to see me before you go, that I may enjoy the sight of your loveliness." Silently kissing her friend, while the large tears coursing down her cheeks proved how deep was her sympathy, Ella lefl her. Eva lay quite still with closed eyes and clasped hands as if in prayer. A peaceful, holy expres- sion rested upon her pale face, and a smile play- ed around the lovely mouth. Not much longer will be the school of endurance for thee, poor child. Soon there will be one more place vacant upon earth, one more soul rejoicing in henven. Ella soon reentered the apartment, covered with her fragrant garlands, and looking as pure and fresh in her youthful beauty as the flowers themselves. Her hour of sadness had passed away, and a restless light danced in her merry blue eyes as she thought of the festival in which 13 146 CLEMENTINA^S MIBKOK. she was to bear so distinguished a part. " I am glad you can feel as you do, darling," she whis- pered, "but I can not think of these things just yet. There is so much in this world to enjoy." As she bounded lightly away Clementina was conscious that her own spirit sounded a sympar thetic chord with that of so bright and beauti- ful a creature. "There is a great deal to en- joy," she murmured to herself, and immediately the life-like picture faded from her view. She found that her companions were consid- erably in advance and wondering what had be- come of her. The spell of her discontent was broken for that day. She was in her merriest, most obliging mood. No one knew better how to make themselves agreeable than she did, and so much did she exert herself for her compan- ions' entertainment that they were charmed with her, and their happiness was reflected in her own heart. And Harry Edwards whispered to her in confidence, that he was dreadfully dis- appointed because he could not invite her to CLEMENTINA'S MIRROE. 147 ride home in his carriage, and promised to drive both her and her mother out very soon. As she concluded her story, Mrs. Grey spoke of the, evils arising fi'om the indulgence of the feeling of vanity, and the delightful effect of religion in sustaining the soul under calamity, and in purifying and sanctifying the heart. Her youthful auditors looked very serious, and we hope were properly impressed by the affliction that fell upon the thoughtless Eva. " But I want to know what became of her after that, and how Ella got through her par- ty," said Charlie. " You must take these sketches as you find them," said his mother, laughing. " If Clem- entina had not conquered her evil temper so soon, perhaps we might have found out more about them." " Then I wish she had staid bad, longer," said the little boy, shaking his head; and though the girls laughed, I am not at all sure that in their secret hearts they did not echo the wish. CHAPTER XII. N Saturday evening, Mrs. Grey was seated earlier than usual at her table, with her manuscript before her. It was not many moments before the little family gathered eagerly around her. "The last evening," said Mr. Grey, " I hope that you will give us a good long story that we may enjoy ourselves as much as possi- ble." The girls looked sad and unusually quiet as Mrs. Grey began. For a long time after the pic-nic, Clemen- tina was not troubled with any relapse into her sullen moods. She had learned to be thankful for one more blessing that she had never much considered because it was so common ; and for awhile she felt as if her health and youth were new acquisitions. CLEMENTINA'S MIRROR. 149 But one more trial was in store for her. She was invited by a favorite cousin to spend the week with her at her home, a few miles dis- tant. She was to return from school one Sat- urday afternoon, and she wished Clementina to accompany her. She was very anxious to ac- cept, but her mother would not consent to her going till the Monday following, as she knew that her aunt's family did not observe the Sabbath very strictly, and she feared that her young daughter might be tempted to pas^the day in an unprofiable manner. Besides, she preferred not to liave her absent from her own church and Sunday-School, even for once, un- less it were absolutely necessary. Clementina sat in her own little room prepar- ing her Bible lesson. She held the Holy Book listlessly in her hand, but its precepts did not enter into her heart, as she sat gazing from the window and musing upon the forbidden pleas- ure. "It is too bad," she exclaimed aloud, "for 13* 150 CLEMENTINA'S MIRROR. mother to keep rue at home just on account of that old Sunday School. It is well enough for her to be so dreadfully strict, but I do not pro- fess to be a Christian, and it is useless for her to try to make me one, unless I choose. I do not believe I shall ever be religious if one has to give up all enjoyment. I should not care if there vrere no such day as Sunday, for my part." The wicked thought animated the mirror, andi^she consulted it once more. p c H t Ij e n ^^ r s Ij i p . In a moment she found herself surrounded by a vast multitude. The people among whom she found herself were under the influence of great excitement. Pale and haggard faces, lighted with a ferocious gleam, and dusky forms reeling to and fro, showed the occasion was one of uncommon interest. They con- versed in an unknown tongue, so that she could not understand them, but she instinctively CLEMENTINA'S MIRROE. 151 shrank from their fierce gestures and wild cries. Suddenly loud shouts rent the air, while a low rumbling sound made her fear that an earth- quake was at hand. Raising her eyes, she beheld a fearful mon- ster, with black and awful visage and mouth of flame, drawn on an enormous car by shouting and adoring crowds. Nearer and nearer he came, and numerous travel-stained and worn pilgrims prostrated themselves directly in the •way by which he must pass. One more turn of those wheels and a benighted soul would be hurried into eternity. Her blood ran cold ^vdth horror, but she saw no way of escape. Invol- untarily she covered her face with her hands and uttered a cry of anguish. Instantly the tumult ceased. She looked up in surprise and found herself near to the bank of a river. Delighted with the sudden change from such a storm of excitement to a perfect calm, she sank into a pleasant reverie, yielding 152 CLEMENTINA'S MIREOE. herself without restraint to the influence of the beauties of nature that surrounded her. Her attention was attracted by the sound of a fe- male voice whose low and musical accents were every now and then interrupted by that soft, cooing noise by which an infant responds to ex- pressions of endearment. Looking around her, she espied a beautiful young woman near her, seated in the shade of a banyan tree, and holding in her arms a babe of six months ; again and again did she press the little being to her bosom, striving by many a wild caress to testify the affection that filled her heart. Clementina amused herself some time in watching the graceful movements of this un- taught child of nature, while she felt her sym- pathies strongly drawn out towards the young mother in her innocent happiness. Suddenly she heard a manly step approaching, and the husband and father stood before the wife and mother. CLEMENTINA'S MIEROE. 153 He was a young, vigorous man, with a frank, fearless expression of countenance that waa very pleasing, but the smile with which he was ready to greet his wife, gave place to a dark frown as he saw her occupation ; while his infant daugh- ter shrank from him and nestled more closely in her mother's bosom. He addressed the trembling creature in harsh tones, and seemed about to tear the infmt from her grasp, but she shielded it from liim with her arm and strove to appease* his wrath. Her soft, low tones effected her purpose, for the beaming smile again returned, but the shadow that had left his countenance settled upon hers. When he again left her the shadow deepened till it became the blackness of despair. Depositing her precious burden upon the ground, she drew a small black image from some hiding-place, and prostrated herself before it. She remained thus for some time, weeping convulsively, then arose with a look of stern 154 CLEMENTINA'S MlJiBOR. determination that showed how great a change had t|iken place within her heart. Once more she clasped the infant to her bos- om and neared the water's edge. Tiiis time she did not dare to gaze upon the many perfec- tions of her little plaything. All girlish mirth had left her, and she turned a suffering woman's glance upon the deep, dark river. Once again she pressed the tiny form to her heart as if she would hold it there forever ; once more she im- pressed a loving kiss upon the innocent brow, and then, with averted face, she cast the infant from her. The little one gave one wild cry as it felt the protecting arms withdrawn. That cry struck like a death-knell upon the mother's ear. In- voluntarily she gave a last look, and beheld the loving little arms stretched out towards her, and the soft, beseeching eyes fixed reproach- fully upon her, as the waters closed over them forever. Human nature could endure no more. Her -^-^^^ "Once more she impressed a lovinj; kiss upon the innocent brow, and then, with averted face, she cast tlie infant from her." Pa-e 154. CLEMENTINA'S MIRROR. 155 maternal love, which was almost a savage in- stinct, impelled her to self-destruction. With a piercing cry, as if her heart was broken, she threw herself into the stream. And there the mother and child will sleep together till the deep shall give up its dead. Clementina was very much overcome by these sad scenes, and longed to give the signal for return to her own home ; but she was not to escape so easily. Just as she was hoping to be transported thither, a silvery voice which she well knew sounded in her ear the following rhyme : '* Poor sinful maiden, now you stand On the benighted heathen's land ; Come, Bee new evils to deplore, On what is called a Christian shore." Clementina was immediately enveloped in darkness. CHAPTER XIII. ^tntxitt, or t Ij c §; u it . S the mists rolled, she saw a band of young girls making merry in a beauti- ful garden. Some were lightly danc- ing on the green grass ; some were plucking the choicest of the flowers and grouping them together according to their fancy ; while some, more seriously inclined, strolled in the shaded avenues, or reclining be- neath some spreading tree, brought forth from the store-house of memory legends of the olden time to entertain and astonish each other. But the gayest of the gay ones there assem- bled was a young girl, called by her companions Beatrice. It was in celebration of her fifteenth birthday that the. company had been called to- getlier. And so merry was her mood that the CLEMENTINA'S MIEROR. 157 sun seemed to shine more bi'ightly where she passed, and the little flowers raised their heads to kiss her feet as she flitted lightly to and fro among them. Clementina was just wishing that she might mingle in their sports when the mists again ob- Bcm-ed her sight. When she was again able to discern objects, she found herself in a lofty apartment. Heavy curtains almost entirely obscured the light of day, and crimson tapestry covered the walls, except where a spacious mirror extended from the ceiling to the floor. Upon a splendid couch of carved ebony, a slight girlish form was extended. So emaciated were the small white hands that rested upon the coverlid, that they left the beholder almost in doubt as to whether they were a shadow or a substance ; and so pale was the cheek that pressed the snowy pillow that the transparent outline was just visible. 14 158 CLEMENTINA'S MIREOK. Gazing more intently upon the prostrate form, Clementina recognized the features of Beatrice. But how sad a change had passed upon her since she last beheld her ! The merry expression was succeeded by one so restless and wandering that Clementina was grieved, and she began to wonder why no kind friend stood near to soothe the sick girl's pain, when she espied a dark form half concealed by the curtain that draped the bed. It was the figure of a man with a large black cloak thrown around him ; a hood of the same material thrown back revealed a shaven crown, and the outline of stern, dark features, while the black eyes were fixed with a look of sinister tri- umph upon the ajDparently dying girl. In his right hand he held a golden cross which he ele- vated high in the air, striving to call the peni- tent's attention to the sacred emblem. " It is strange," she murmured, " very strange, Father. I have confessed, and you have grant- ed me absolution. You are sure that the masses CLEMENTINA'S MIRKOE. 159 my possessions will buy will bring my soul out of purgatory ?" " Yes, my daughter, you shall not remain there a single day if the prayers of the Church may avail." " You are sure they will avail ?" "Dost thou doubt the power of the holy Church, my daughter ?" he replied, fixing upon her a glance of severe displeasure. " Forgive me. Father, I am very weak. It seems as if my mind wanders. I have trusted myself entirely to your guidance, but in this last hour it seems as if the tempter had power over my spirit, for I almost doubt at times the efficacy of my prayers and your intercession ;" and the poor child passed her hand over her brow as if to brush away some vail that ob- scured her vision. " Count your rosary, my daughter, when such doubts oppress you and the tempter will flee." " Alas, Father, I can not recall a single prayer. 160 CLEMENTINA'S MIRROR. I can not imagine why I should feel thus; I have never missed a single mass or confessional since I can remember, and I should think the tempter would have no power over me now." *' Perhaps there is some reservation in your heart, my daughter ; perhaps you do not feel willing to give all that you have towards ad- vancing the interests of the Church." " All ; why Father ! All that I have, except a small portion for my poor widowed mother, shall be bestowed upon the Chm-cb ; and, after my death, will not the vast possessions of my father pass away from our family forever ?" *' But in case you should be permitted to re- cover, what would you do, my child ? Do not deceive yourself. Should you return again to the thoughtless life you once led for happiness?" said the wily hypocrite. *' "What would you have me to do, Father ? I will be guided entirely by you." " Abandon a world so full of wickedness, bestow your vast wealth upon your beloved CUaiEENTINA'S MIRKOE. 161 Church, be yourself the spouse of Christ, and find iu the reth*ement of a convent that happi- ness which you have vainly sought in worldly pleasure." " I have left the matter entirely to you, Father ; but consider my widowed mother. I am the pride and joy of her heart, the only comfort and support of her old age ; would it be right for me to abandon her ?" " The ties of natural affection are strong, the claims of filial love are sweet, but they must be snapped asunder and disregarded if the cause of Christ demands it. Do not hesitate, ray child, to make the sacrifice. Here," he con- tinued, advancing close to her and holding the golden crucifix to her lips, " make your choice. In this solemn hour, when your soul is hovering between earth and heaven, when you know not whether another sun will dawn upon your mor- tal life, swear upon this sacred emblem that you will give yourself and all that you have to the cause of Christ in any event, and you will enjoy 162 CLEME]SmNA*S MIREOR. rest and peace, and your name will be blessed by many a holy nun when you shall liave gone to meet your royal Spouse in heaven." The sick girl raised herself with a sudden movement ; a flush of enthusiasm kindled on her pale face as she clasped the crucifix to her heart. " I swear," she cried, " that, come what will, it shall be as you have said." And then, completely overcome with agita^ tion and excitement, she fell back, half fainting, upon her pillow. A smile of triumph flickered upon the dark, stern visage of the priest for a moment, and then died away. "I have secured her now, body and soul," he muttered, as he turned from the bed and left the apartment. " Come what will, these vast possessions will be ours, a magnificent donation to the holy Church." Darkness again reigned. The returning light revealed to Clementina a spacious cathedral. Crowds of anxious spec- CLEMENTINA'S MIRROR. 163 tators were assembled to witness some event of thrilling interest. Tall candles burned upon a splendid altar hung with garlands of pure, white flowers, while a life-hke picture of the Madonna gazing down upon it, seemed to reproach the mockery of the transaction that was about to tike place there. Now, a side door opened, and bursts of bewitching melody reverberated through the church as a long train of holy sisters, with downcast eyes, slow^ly advanced. Each nun bore a lighted candle in her hand, and as its gleams fell upon her pale face in its etatue-like repose, it produced so ghastly au eflect that one could almost imagine a company of ghosts of the departed had found their way back to the earth, and were now about tc reveal to the living the secrets of the eternal world. Then followed a band of priests with solemn, stern, impenetrable faces, but their stout forms and wily expression were not so saint-like, and 164 CLEMENTINA'S MIRKOR. could not be made to present such a spiritual appearance by any aids of light or distance. The sistei-s seated themselves on one side of the altar, and the priests on the other, and so motionless were they, that they seemed carved out of the solid stone on which they rested. Then burst forth a more triumphant strain as four holy priests, clad in the richest robes, sta^ tioned themselves before the altar ; then it sub- sided into the softest melody as the door again opened and a young and beautiful maiden ad- vanced into the church, leaning upon the arm of the lady abbess. Her dress, of the most costly lace, swept lightly over a robe of the richest white satin, looped up here and there with bunches of pearls. The sleeves, caught up on the shoulder by a single gem of uncommon size, revealed an arm of snowy whiteness, and perfect enough ii? its proportions for artist's model. A vail of point lace, which was confined to her small and graceful head by a wreath of CLEMENTINA'S MIRROR. 165 orange blossoms, fell back from her shoulders, revealing a form that a sylph might have envied. But Avho can describe the expression of that face, as she stood before the altar where she was to sacrifice all her brilliant prospects, and offer up herself as a victim ? Never was sculp- tured marble whiter than that face. The trans- parent complexion, the pure Grecian outline, the perfect repose, would hardly have seemed life- like, were it not for the rapt expression of the large, dark eyes, fixed heavenward, as if the unseen world were indeed revealed to her, and she was gazing with rapture upon her Redeemer and her Lord. Low and sweet as the strains of an aeolian harp was her voice, and not an adverse wind trembled upon the chords as she pronounced clearly and distinctly the vows that were to shut her out from the world forever. The vail was then cast aside and the flowing tresses fell upon the pavement, cut off from the 166 CLEMENTINA'S MIKKOR. graceful head which they had adorned by the same ruthless hand which had severed all the ties and associations of her past life. They cast over her a black vail which fell around her lovely form like the shades of night, and she then prostrated herself in an open coffin, while slowly and solemnly pealed forth the ma»s for the dead. A shudder ran through the spectators at this last sad scene. They feared she was indeed gone forever; but she soon arose. The sisters greeted her with a loving kiss — the whole pro- cession swept out and the door closed. Alas, Beatrice Fernandez ! better would it be for thee if the tomb had indeed received thee, rather than the living death which thou hast this day embraced ! As that door closed, a heart-rending shriek startled the assembled multitude, and an aged woman was borne fainting from the church. The widow^s heart was broken. CLEMENTINA'S MIRROR. 167 The scene once more changed. Clementma found herself in a small room. One grated aperture in the massive wall ad- mitted just light enough to render the darkness visible. The furniture consisted of a stone conch only long enough to accommodate a child com- fortably, with a quantity of straw spread upon it, and a small table containing a jug filled with water, and a wooden plate containing one slice of dry hard bread. Near to the grating a woman knelt upon the stone floor. She was dressed in a skirt of black serge. In one hand she held a rosary and in the other a small whip, with which, at the close of every prayer, she inflicted severe blows upon her naked shoulders, bringing blood at every stroke. Her upraised face was as pale as death. She was young, and might once have been beauti- ful, but the sunken cheeks and heavy eyes, the furrows worn by flowing tears, told of many a night's vigil and severe penance. 168 CLEMENTINA'S MIRROE. Clementina thought she had seen that face before. She looked again, and the sad truth Btood revealed. She could not be mistaken. In this lonely cell the once lovely Beatrice strove in bitterness of spirit, with sufferings and tears, to win her way to heaven. As Clementina was weeping over the woes of the unhappy girl, the silvery voice chanted the following rhyme — " In its dark horrors here you see Perverted Christianity ; Seek now thy home and thankful be For the true hght that's granted thee. You've seen how few enjoyed the truth That's beamed on thee from earhest youth : From sinful ways in haste depart, And give thy Saviour all thy heart." As the words were ended, Clementina found herself once more transported to her own dwell- ing, with her brilliant jewel before her. The precious gem was placed next her heart, but the impressions produced there by its revela- tions were deep and abiding. The scenes that CLEMENTINA'S MIRROR. 1G9 she had witnessed, by giving her so much in- sight into the woes of others, made her realize bow happily her lot in life was cast, and how many more blessings were granted to her than fell to the greater portion of mankind. She could not forget the last words uttered by the fairy monitor ; the musical rhyme was ever ringing in her ears, and she was induced to avail herself of every opportunity granted to her for improving in religious knowledge, till at length she was led to embrace an offered Saviour ; and fi'om a higher motive than she had ever known before, even the love of Christ, she strove to submit herself to His will in all things. Clementina is now an altered being. The change has been gradual, and has cost her many a severe struggle ; but at last she has conquered her habit of coveting the possession of forbid- den things. She has found that each heart knoweth its own bitterness, and is thankful that 15 170 CLEilENTIifA'S MIEEOR. SO very little of the bitter portion has mingled in her cwp. The discontented and sullen expression of her countenance has given place to one of perfect peace. Now and then murmuring thoughts will arise within her breast, but they are never in- dulged in, and the oftener they are banished the less frequently do they return ; and as they are never strong enough to induce her either to act upon them, or to give them vent in words, the magic mirror never reminds her of its presence, and was in fact almost entirely forgotten, when one day in one of her walks she accidentally happened upon the spot of her first encounter with the fairy. She was just recalling the various scenes through which she had passed since she last stood there, and, remembering that she had been forbidden to return, had turned to leave it, when the silvery voice once more broke upon her ear — CLEMENTINA'S MIRROR. 171 " The fairy spell has worked a cure That will throughout thy life endure ; From idle wishes ever freed, No more the monitor you need. Maiden, return my gift to me, And I'll bestow this wreath on thee. " Invisible to other eyes, To thee it cheerful thought supplies ; Where'er through life thy steps are led, Its radiant light shall crown thy head, The ice of colder hearts shall melt, And make its unseen influence felt." Looking upward, Clementina espied her fairy friend seated in the bell of a beautiful white lily. Upon the point of the magic wand which she extended towards her, was suspended a most wonderful wreath. It was formed of the tiniest gems, resembling dew-drops — so small as to be scarcely visible even to her for whom they were designed. Yet they emitted a sil- very light as soft and pure as the moonbeams, and she was surprised to perceive that it ex- tended quite a distance around the radiant 172 CLEMENTINA'S MIRROR. object, and that every thing touched by those gilver rays was clothed with new beauty. As the young girl raised her head, the fairy smiled, and the wreath descended and rested upon her brow. She could not feel its weight, yet the pure soft light entered into her heart, and made her sensible of its presence. She sank upon the ground in a deep slum- ber, and was soon again transported to her own home. From that day forward it was surprising to see the influence that Clementina exerted over her young companions. It was her happy priv- ilege to raise many a drooping head, and to cheer many a fainting spirit. She often heard them wonder at her happy face and her great popularity, and many sought to discover the secret of her never-failing serenity. Some ascribed it to her unselfishness, some to natural evenness of temper, and some of the more ill-natured to artfulness and coldness of CLEMENTINA'S MIRROR. 173 heart, but none ever discovered the mystery of the wreath, though its hght ever rested upon her spirit, and danced about her pathway. Of course she kept her visit to the fairy's bower a profound secret. She only whispered it, in confidence, to me, and to this day, though her fi'ieuds are unable to give a reason for it, they universally admit that no one is so beloved as Clementina. As Mrs. Grey concluded her story, the chil- dren gathered around her, and thanked her again and again for the pains she had taken to amuse them. " I am glad that you were pleased with my production," said Mrs. Grey, " but I did not mean it entirely for a fancy sketch. I have tried to keep a true meaning in view all the time, though I have hidden it under so many fanciful creations. My tale has a moral, and I wish to see which of you will be wise enough to find it out." 15* 174 CLEMENTINA'S MIRROR. "Then the fairy's first gift was not really a miiTor?" said May. " No, darling, but something which you have each of you in your own. possession." " In our possession ? Oh, what can it be, mother ?" said Helen. " I think I have it," said Hatty, who had been quietly looking into the fire, while all the others had suggested every thing they could think of, only to see Mrs. Grey quietly shake her head. " I think I can guess. It is the mir- ror of the True, Actual Life. And when Clem- entina held it before her and saw how many peoj^le have real and great trials to contend with, her light, imaginary ones sank into com- plete insignificance." Mrs. Grey's quiet smile assured Hatty that she had solved the problem. " I do not see, though, who the fiiry could be," said JuHa. *'Do tell us, mother," said Helen. "Well then, dear, she was named Common CLEMENTINA'S MIRROR. 175 Sense, and she presented the mirror to Clem- entina for her inspection, and induced her to take its lessons to heart." "I must say, my dear, that my penetration is somewhat at fault," said Mr. Grey, laughing. " I was not aware, before, that the very desira- ble personage you have mentioned dwelt be- neath the sea, and held a court, where she would condescend occasionally to receive mortal visitors." "You are so very matter of fact, Charles, that I hardly expected my little story to escape your ciiticism. Consider that I was obliged to embellish considerably to suit the taste of my auditors. I will endeavor to explain a little, though, for your benefit. Remember that it was only in spirit that Clementina took her lit- tle airy trips. Her body had not much to do with the matter except to act out the various good resolutions that she formed. So you can readily imagine the woods to bo the confused crowd of her own disconnected thoughts ; ram- 176 CLEilENTINA'S MIEROK. bling through these, she stumbled upon the bower of Reflection, where Common Sense ap- peared to her." "The home beneath the sea is to remain for ever a mystery, I suppose," said Mr. Grey, with a quizzical expression. "I did not know you were such a tease, Charles, but I am determined to defend myself, so I will even account for that. She dwells be- neath the sea of the tumultuous cares, the rest- less emotions and the exciting pleasures of the world, and though she sometimes rises and suc- ceeds in reaching the court that she holds with her followers in the bower of Reflection, she seldom receives a visitor, and seldom has an op- portunity to make her voice heard." " Well, dear, whatever opinion I entertain in regard to your story, I will admit that you are one of the most patient as well as the most plausible of women." " And what was the wreath, mother ?^ said Julia. CLEMENTINA'S MIRROR. 177 *'Ask Helen," replied Mrs. Grey, with a sly glance at her eldest daughter. *' I can guess," said Helen, answering Julia's surprised look with a conscious blush. " It was a Contented Spirit, which shed the light of happiness into her heart and life, and reflected upon all with whom she associated." "You have not told us a real fairy story then, after all," said Charlie, looking almost ready to cry, as he saw one wonderful vision after another dissolve and disappear at a touch of Truth. "Never mind, Charlie, I was not exactly thinking of your pleasure when I wrote this. I aimed to please and instruct your sisters and cousins who are older than you. If you -will forgive me this time, I will invent something more wonderful especially for you. But you look rather sleepy, my little son, so tell papa that we are ready for prayers." After prayers were ended the children pro* pared to retire. 178 CLEMENTINA'S MIREOB. " Thank you, dear mother, for your lesson,*' whispered Helen, as she kissed Mrs. Grey for good night. " I hope I shall profit by it." " I hope you will, darling," replied her moth- er, kissing her fondly in return. " This is the last of the holidays," she contin- ued, turning to May and Hatty. " It may be a long time before we again spend an evening to- gether. On Monday morning you will all re- turn to school and its duties, and we shall be separated from each other. But do not let the memory of this holiday week be banished from your minds. Strive earaestly during the com- ing year to wear the fairy's wreath. Obtain and cherish a Contented Spirit, and if you thus convince me that you have profited by this story, perhaps, when we meet again, I will have another ready for your entertainment." THB END. University of California SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 405 Hilgard Avenue, Los Angeles, CA 90024-1388 Return this material to the library from which it was borrowed. (i^u^fef f^m Am B 000 002 996 7