140
 
 TRANSFORMED 
 
 BY 
 
 FAYE HUNTINGTON 
 
 NEW YORK 
 THOMAS Y. CROWELL & CO.
 
 COPYRIGHT, i8S6, 
 BY THOMAS Y. CROWELL & CO.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 CHAPTER 1 5 
 
 CHAPTER II 14 
 
 CHAPTER III 22 
 
 CHAPTER IV 32 
 
 CHAPTER V. 43 
 
 CHAPTER VL .62 
 
 CHAPTER VII 74 
 
 CHAPTER VIIL 8; 
 
 CHAPTER IX 108 
 
 CHAPTER X. 123 
 
 CHAPTER XL 137 
 
 CHAPTER XII 152 
 
 CHAPTER XIII 170 
 
 CHAPTER XIV 184 
 
 CHAPTER XV 200 
 
 CHAPTER XVL 218 
 
 CHAPTER XVII 232 
 
 CHAPTER XVIIL 245 
 
 CHAPTER XIX 265 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 283 
 
 CHAPTER XXL 297 
 
 CHAPTER XXII 314 
 
 CHAPTER XXIIL 
 
 3*4 
 
 2061921
 
 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 " I went by the field of the slothful ; . . . and, lo, it was all growh 
 over with thorns, and nettles had covered the face thereof, and the 
 stone wall thereof was broken down." 
 
 THEY called him "Old Barney." Indeed, it 
 had been so long since he had heard himself 
 called any thing else, that he had almost forgot- 
 ten that this was not his real name. As for 
 his wife, she was not called by even so respect- 
 able a name as " Mrs. Barney : " to most peo- 
 ple she was " Old Moll." And yet neither of 
 them was old ; they had not seen forty years 
 come and go. Indolence, liquor, and tobacco 
 had dragged them so low in the social scale, 
 that the appellation old had been attached to 
 them rather as a term of contempt than of de- 
 
 5
 
 6 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 scription. Had any citizen of Waltham been 
 asked, who of all the inhabitants of that town- 
 ship was the lowest in poverty and degradation, 
 the unhesitating reply would have been, "the 
 Barneys." 
 
 Barney himself was tall and angular, with 
 legs and arms apparently too long to be dis- 
 posed of conveniently ; he was habitually un- 
 shaven and unkept. He had the appearance of 
 great physical strength ; but he was so stupefied 
 with poor tobacco, and poorer whiskey, as to 
 be incapable of exertion. When he walked, he 
 seemed scarcely able to drag his ungainly body 
 along ; and often the rude boys of the neighbor- 
 hood would call out, " Say/ which way are you 
 going, anyway ? " 
 
 Barney was not a great conversationalist ; peo- 
 ple were wont to say that he was too lazy to open 
 and shut his mouth for the formation of words. 
 And when he did speak, it was in a drawling 
 tone ; indeed, there was a saying that old Bar- 
 ney never framed his reply to any question un- 
 til the next day after the inquiry had been 
 made. As for work, there were few who had
 
 TRANSFORMED. 7 
 
 any patience with his "shiftlessness," and, con- 
 sequently, the avenues of employment open to 
 him were not very broad. * 
 
 Mrs. Barney was a slight, wiry woman of 
 medium height, with long dark hair tightly 
 twisted into a knot at the back of her head 
 without regard to smoothness ; her complexion 
 was dingy from exposure and greasiness. Her 
 dark eyes had a restless expression, and she 
 had a habit of moving her fingers nervously 
 when she talked. By nature she was more 
 active and energetic than her husband, but in 
 the discouragements of poverty she had grown 
 indolent and careless. 
 
 A little north of the Waltham district was, 
 fifteen or twenty years ago, a large tract of land 
 known as "the swamp;" and there, on a little 
 clearing, lived the Barneys. The hovel in 
 which they existed was built partly of logs and 
 partly of slabs. It had no floor, and no chim 
 ney ; there had been a sort of a floor made ot 
 slabs laid with the flat side up, but these, having 
 rested upon the damp ground, had long since 
 rotted away. There had been three windows ;
 
 8 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 but one of these was boarded up, while the oth- 
 ers had many broken panes, their places being 
 variously supplied with papers, rags, and bits 
 of boards. The roof was broken and leaky ; 
 the door sagged on its hinges ; and the stove, 
 with its pipe projecting through one of the 
 broken windows, smoked. There had originally 
 been but one room : but some enterprising ten- 
 ant (certainly not Barney) had conceived the 
 idea of a bedroom, and in pursuance of this 
 happy thought had partitioned off one corner, 
 leaving the main room an " L " shape ; then as 
 a further convenience two or three shelves, like 
 the partition made of slabs, had been fastened 
 to the wall across the end of the " L." As for 
 furniture, there was absolutely nothing which 
 hinted of comfort or even decency: of filth there 
 was an abundance. And there was something 
 else of which there seemed to be no lack, and 
 that was children, half a dozen tow-headed, 
 bare-footed, and bare-legged boys and girls, in 
 years from one to twelve. How the miser- 
 able beings who composed the Barney family 
 contrived to live, was an unexplained mystery.
 
 TRANSFORMED. g 
 
 The head of the family would sometimes per- 
 form a day's labor for the neighboring farmers, 
 while his wife now and then went out for a day's 
 washing or scrubbing ; but the exertion was quite 
 too severe to be often indulged in. Barney had 
 been a soldier, and had been slightly wounded, 
 a fact which he was assiduous in keeping to 
 the front, and which afforded him an excuse for 
 laziness, though his wound was not of a nature 
 to disable him. However, he had a pension, 
 which kept them from starvation, and furnished 
 the supplies of liquor and tobacco which both 
 he and his wife considered among the neces- 
 saries of life. 
 
 It was a raw November morning. As usual, 
 the family slept late : as a matter of economy in 
 wood and lights, they were accustomed to spend 
 as much time as possible among the rags which 
 constituted their sleeping accommodations ; these 
 could not be called beds. As a rule, they break- 
 fasted upon a sort of griddle-cake made of what 
 is known, in some sections at least, as "mid- 
 dlings," a coarse sort of wheat-flour which 
 forms, when wet with water, a sticky dough.
 
 10 TRANSFORMED. . 
 
 As they had no griddle, these cakes were cooked 
 in a primitive manner. A little salt having 
 been added to the dough, it was ready for cook- 
 ing. As the only spoon they had possessed had 
 now been missing for several months, a piece 
 of a shingle had been whittled into a paddle- 
 shaped utensil, and made to do duty as a spoon ; 
 with this the dough was placed upon the top of 
 the stove in small portions ; and as fortunately 
 they still possessed a knife, when one side was 
 cooked the cake was turned, and when done 
 through, with a rude sort of skill it was tossed 
 towards the child whose turn it was to receive 
 the delicate morsel. As the cake was invari- 
 ably characterized by stickiness, and was often 
 too hot for even the accustomed fingers, the 
 rickety table and dilapidated chairs received 
 the adhesive article while cooling, and in con- 
 sequence were well plastered with dried dough. 
 But this Saturday morning the "middlings" had 
 given out ; there was scarcely sufficient for break- 
 fast ; and, as Barney himself had taken too much 
 whiskey the night before, he was too stupidly 
 sleepy to arouse himself, or to be aroused,
 
 TRANSFORMED. 1 1 
 
 to go to the mill for a fresh supply. And, in- 
 deed, that was not the worst of it. There was 
 no money : the last dollar had been expended 
 for a jug of whiskey, and it was yet a week to the 
 time when the pension-money could be drawn. 
 
 " There's no use o' whimpering," said Mrs. 
 Barney ; " ye'll jist hev ter go ter Gray's, and 
 git sum injun-meal. We've got to hev suthin' 
 to keep off starvation till yer dad gits over this 
 spell. Now start yersel' ! " 
 
 " I sha'n't go a step, so there ! " said the old- 
 est boy, to whom his mother had spoken ; " not 
 if ye kills me ! Let Pug and Nan go." 
 
 The children of this family ought to be in- 
 troduced by name. The oldest, who had just 
 delivered himself of this disrespectful reply to 
 his mother's command, was twelve years old, 
 and answered to the name " Reg : " his mother, 
 who was given to novel-reading, had named her 
 first-born after a favorite hero, Reginald Fitz- 
 Henry, though all excepting the first syllable 
 had long since been dropped. Next to him was 
 a lame boy : a little touch of tenderness having 
 come over the mother, and a memory of some-
 
 1 2 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 thing she had heard in her childhood about a 
 boy and his mother, stealing into her mind, she 
 had called her boy Samuel ; and yet when and 
 where that mother and son had lived, or where 
 the story was told, she had no idea. Then 
 came the two whom Reg had called Pug and 
 Nan : Pug's real name was John, and his sister 
 was Annie. Estelle's name had been selected 
 from another novel. But when that other blue- 
 eyed boy opened his eyes in that wretched 
 hovel, the father declared that he would have 
 no more nonsense, and that he would name one 
 boy to suit himself, and so he called him Jehu ; 
 but fortunately no one else ever called the baby 
 by that name : he was just Huey to them all. 
 
 Though Pug and Nan were scantily clothed, 
 and the weather was severe, there seemed to 
 be no help for it ; Reg would not go, and their 
 only hope of dinner lay in getting the meal 
 from Mr. Gray's. It was a long walk, more 
 than two miles ; and even a small bag of meal 
 was a heavy load for two children of six and 
 seven years : but their mother said coaxingly, 
 
 " Now be good uns, and run along. Maybe's
 
 TRANSFORMED. 13 
 
 you'll git some goodies. Yer knows Mis' Gray 
 allers gins yer suthin' nice. Maybe's it'll be a 
 cooky, or who knows but it'll be a piece o' 
 mince-pie ! " 
 
 Thus urged and encouraged, the children set 
 off upon their long walk over the frozen ground, 
 the keen wind piercing them through and 
 through. 
 
 You do not like my picture ? Well, it is not 
 a pleasing one, but it is drawn true to life. 
 Alas, there are still such homes !
 
 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 " Go work in my vineyard." " Work, for I am with you, saith 
 the Lord." 
 
 Go back with me a few months. It was a 
 June morning ; and Marian Kingsley, with half 
 a dozen other bright young girls, stood beneath 
 an evergreen arch upon the chapel platform in 
 a young ladies' seminary. Interwoven among 
 the evergreens, wrought in white flowers, were 
 the words of the class motto, "A Work Life." 
 In presenting the diplomas which the young 
 ladies had earned by four or five years of devo- 
 tion to a prescribed course of study, the vener- 
 able president, referring to the motto, reminded 
 those white-robed young creatures that a " work- 
 life" meant something more than a fluttering 
 around the sweets of life, extracting honey for 
 their own regaling. To some of them, a work- 
 life might mean hand-toil ; to others, work for
 
 TRANSFORMED. 15 
 
 heart and brain : to all, it must stand for sacri- 
 fice, weariness, and self-abnegation. 
 
 " Much those frizzed girls know of the mean- 
 ing of their motto ! " said a young man, whose 
 handsome face wore a cynical expression, and 
 whose voice had in it a sneering tone. "They 
 look like it. White kid gloves indicate just the 
 kind of work they expect to do. They will 
 spend two or three years angling for a husband, 
 and call that work." 
 
 " Aren't you rather severe on the ' sweet girl- 
 graduates ' ? " responded his friend, a gentleman 
 some years his senior. " I am sure the essays 
 to which we have listened evince considerable 
 character, and some aspirations and desires for 
 usefulness." 
 
 "Sentimentalism! Mere sentimentalism ! 
 They have been reading poetry." 
 
 " But you read poetry," said the other, laugh- 
 ing; adding, "you seem to expect young girls 
 to put on the appearance of riper years, and to 
 present to us the thoughts df experience, ex- 
 pressed in the language of a sober philosopher." 
 
 "That is exactly what I am protesting
 
 1 6 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 against : the sham of it all. Those girls dis- 
 course upon 'the dignity of labor,' and parade 
 their motto ; but I tell you it is all like the thing 
 up there, made of flowers. Their sentiment is 
 as perishable as the daisies which they have so 
 skilfully inwrought among the evergreens." 
 
 " See here ! " said his companion, turning 
 sharply upon him, " Gray, I am afraid you are 
 already caught. Which one is the successful 
 angler ? Is it your brother's pretty ward, or is 
 it the black-eyed beauty with the voluminous 
 essay on 'The Harmony of Silence'?" Then 
 more seriously the elder man said, "I think, 
 Gray, you are mistaken in your estimate of 
 these young ladies ; and, as you will probably 
 have the opportunity, it may be a matter of in- 
 terest to watch and see how at least one of the 
 group carries out the idea of the motto." 
 
 That evening, at the reception given by the 
 president of the college, Dr. Carlton stood near 
 Miss Kingsley, so near that he could not avoid 
 hearing bits of what seemed like senseless chat- 
 ter, as, one after another, the curled, perfumed, 
 and gloved exquisites came up to pay their
 
 TRA NSFORMED. 1 7 
 
 empty compliments to the members of the 
 graduating class ; and, listening, the doctor said 
 to himself, " I wonder if Gray was right, after 
 all ? I don't believe it yet.'' 
 
 Then, as an opportunity offered, he said, 
 " Miss Kingsley, may an old man ask a ques- 
 tion ? " 
 
 Dr. Carlton was not an old man, and if Miss 
 Kingsley had expressed her thought she would 
 have said so. But she replied simply, "Cer- 
 tainly," though her face may have expressed 
 surprise at the abrupt request. 
 
 " I was interested in your class-motto," said 
 the doctor, "and I want to ask, what is your 
 idea of a work-life ? " 
 
 " My idea ? Well, ' Doe the nexte thynge.' 
 So far as I can see into the future, it will be to 
 pack my trunk to-night ; then, as my room-mate 
 has sprained her wrist, I shall pack for her." 
 
 " But, supposing the ' nexte thynge ' proves 
 to be a disagreeable task ? " asked the doctor. 
 
 " I don't mean to have any disagreeable 
 tasks," she said brightly. 
 
 The doctor's face expressed his disappoint-
 
 1 8 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 ment. After all, she was going to shirk. But 
 she saw the look, and said, laughing, " You 
 think I am going to skip the next thing if it 
 proves disagreeable. Not a bit of it. I mean 
 to take that quality out of it." 
 
 " Indeed ! I wish you would give me your 
 secret." 
 
 " I have no secret : but, when I was a little 
 girl, my mother told me that if I grasped a 
 nettle firmly, and quickly, it would not sting ; 
 and I have found that her rule would apply to 
 a great many things. Indeed, I suspect that 
 she meant it so. Anyway, it has helped me a 
 great many times when I was dreading some 
 duty. Now, of course, I do not know just what 
 my work is to be ; but I expect to go to my 
 guardian's home, and, if I can, I would like to 
 relieve his wife by assuming some of her cares. 
 So, if you should happen to come in some morn- 
 ing, you may find me putting up the winter's 
 supply of fruit, or even darning the children's 
 stockings, or maybe it will be hearing the boys' 
 Latin lessons." 
 
 " But, Miss Kingsley, these things are trifles."
 
 TRANSFORMED. 19 
 
 "I beg your pardon," she said interrupting, 
 and laughing merrily, "but some people con- 
 sider a hole in their stockings no trifle ; still, as 
 you say, they may be considered as compara- 
 tively trifling matters." 
 
 " I was about to remark," continued the doc- 
 tor, smiling at her, "that it would seem as 
 though all these years of study would have given 
 you aspirations for something higher than can- 
 ning fruit and darnirtg stockings. Have you 
 no looking-forward to a career ? " 
 
 Miss Kingsley looked sharply at her compan- 
 ion, and wondered if he could be quizzing her; 
 but he met her gaze with a grave questioning, 
 and she replied earnestly, " Yes, but not in the 
 way which I presume you mean. Louise Ran- 
 dall expects to go out to China as a missionary, 
 but I have no such expectation. Still I do not 
 think I shall be exactly an idler." 
 
 " Oh, I did not mean that ! " Dr. Carlton 
 responded quickly. " But this work you have 
 been planning, does it not seem narrow ? ex- 
 cuse me, but is it not belittling ? I should have 
 supposed that you would seek a broader field to
 
 20 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 give scope to your energies, and to meet the 
 requirements of your intellectual capacities." 
 
 " Why, Dr. Carlton, my field will be as broad 
 as yours. I shall have the whole of Waltham 
 to cultivate ; and if I do not find my mental 
 powers called into exercise sufficiently in keep- 
 ing the run of things throughout the township, 
 I can have recourse to the puzzle corner of the 
 village newspaper." And she laughed again. 
 It was easy for Marian Kingsley to laugh : this 
 was her escape-valve, and saved her many a fit 
 of despondency, and tided her over many a dif- 
 ficulty. She resumed more soberly, " I think 
 all the girls mean to live by our motto ; but 
 we shall not have the same sort of work. 
 Annie Maynard will, without doubt, be a writer : 
 she has decided talent. And Fannie Clark is a 
 born artist. But, while I am aware that there 
 are many broad avenues open to women, I 
 think I shall find my work-life leading me in 
 the narrower paths of home-life." 
 
 " But you will enter society ? " 
 
 "Oh, yes, I presume so." 
 
 " And will not the claims of society interfere 
 with your work-life, as you call it ? "
 
 TRANSFORMED. 21 
 
 " I think not. Indeed, I may find my work 
 in society. The people who need help are 
 not all among the poor, or among the stay- 
 at-homes. But there is Miss Randall. She can 
 give you a better idea of the meaning of our 
 motto than I can. Shall I introduce you ? " 
 
 " No, I am satisfied with your explanation," 
 replied Dr. Carlton ; saying to himself, " It is as 
 I thought. Her befrizzled head is not all taken 
 up with her frizzes."
 
 22 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 " Naked, and ye clothed me." 
 
 THAT November morning, Marian Kingsley 
 was luxuriating in a warm wrapper, an easy- 
 chair, a book, and the open fire, which last she 
 found in grandmother Gray's room. Suddenly, 
 without a warning knock, the door was pushed 
 open, and there appeared before her two of the 
 most remarkable-looking human beings she had 
 ever seen. Had her home been in a city, it is 
 possible that such objects might have been a 
 familiar sight ; but in country neighborhoods 
 such abject poverty is not common. Waltham 
 is a country town ; and, Mr. Gray's handsome 
 home being about a mile from the centre of the 
 town, it might be considered as a country home. 
 Shocked at the sight which met her astonished 
 eyes, Marian ran to call Mrs. Gray, who came
 
 TRANSFORMED. 23 
 
 at once in answer to her excited summons. 
 After a glance at the visitors, she said care- 
 lessly, 
 
 " Oh, it is the Barneys ! You have not seen 
 them before ? Well, they are frequent visitors. 
 They are miserable little beggars. I don't see 
 how they found their way in here, but I suppose 
 they are looking for mother ; she gives them a 
 great deal. And I suppose they will find their 
 way into places where they ought not to go, 
 anyway." 
 
 " But what is to be done with them ? " ex- 
 claimed Marian. 
 
 " Done with them ? Oh, send them home, I 
 suppose : that is what we generally do after 
 they have made known their errand. What is 
 it ? " she asked, turning for the first time to the 
 children, who stood shivering before the grate. 
 
 " Some meal," said Pug. 
 
 " Well, go to the kitchen, and ask Bridget to 
 give you some ; and then go home." 
 
 " Why, Mrs. Gray ! Are you going to send 
 them home without any clothing ? " 
 
 "They came without."
 
 24 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 " But they will perish. This cold day ! See, 
 the little girl has but a single cotton garment." 
 
 "That is nothing," said Mrs. Gray quietly. 
 " They are no worse off than usual." 
 
 " But it is inhuman to let them go so. I 
 should not be able to sleep for a week," said the 
 excited girl. " Have you not some old clothes 
 of Fred's and Bertie's for them ? I am sure 
 you have." 
 
 " But, my child, they are so filthy ! Think 
 of putting my children's clothes upon such vile 
 bodies as these little outcasts." 
 
 " But they ought to be washed, and dressed 
 in warm clothing. I cannot understand how 
 the people in a Christian community can let 
 children remain in such a suffering condition. 
 Think of their walking over the frozen ground 
 barefooted ! And did you see that their feet 
 were bleeding ? Have the people around here 
 no humanity ? " 
 
 Mrs. Gray was used to Marian's outbursts, 
 and she did not mind her thrusts. She only 
 smiled, and said, 
 
 " Now, Marian, don't waste your pity on
 
 TRANSFORMED. 2$ 
 
 the Barneys. They are used to this sort of 
 thing." 
 
 " Waste pity ! I beg your pardon, "but I think 
 that they are objects of pity. They must have 
 a good warm bath, and some clothing, before 
 they go out of this house." 
 
 " A bath, indeed ! And who will give them 
 a bath ? " 
 
 " I will," replied Marian with flashing eyes. 
 
 "You!" 
 
 "Yes, I will." 
 
 " Well, if you will give them a bath, I'll find 
 clothes for them," said Mrs. Gray sceptically. 
 
 " I'll do it," responded Marian. 
 
 "Much you will ! You'll want Bridget to do 
 it ; but she won't soil her fingers with them, any 
 more than you will.'' 
 
 " But /will, and I will not ask Bridget. You 
 may as well take yourself off to the attic, for 
 we shall call for the clothes. Mind you, two 
 full suits is the agreement," said Marian laugh- 
 ing, though her tender brown eyes were filled 
 with tears of pity. 
 
 " You'll not need them : you'll be sick of your
 
 26 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 bargain when you find out how filthy the chil- 
 dren really' are. And I tell you, Marian, it is 
 of no use. I am not so hard-hearted as you 
 think. The Barneys will not be helped. The 
 people about them have done for them until 
 they are tired of it, for it does no good. They 
 are a miserable set." 
 
 "But the children will freeze to death." 
 
 "No, they are used to it. But I will fulfil 
 my part of the agreement if you will do your 
 part." 
 
 Marian found the children in the kitchen, 
 munching the doughnuts with which Bridget 
 had supplied them. Telling them to wait, she 
 went to her room to change her handsome 
 wrapper for a dress more suited to the task she 
 had undertaken. And it was indeed no light 
 undertaking. Meeting old Mrs. Gray on the 
 way, she received a word of encouragement 
 from her. 
 
 " They ought to be clothed up," she said. " I 
 know Lewis and Clara don't believe in giving 
 much to the Barneys, but it is a sin to let the 
 children suffer for the parents' shiftlessness."
 
 TRANSFORMED. 27 
 
 It was not a brief operation, that of cleans- 
 ing those filthy bodies. The work of combing 
 out those tow-like and tangled locks was one of 
 time. They spent the most of the morning in 
 the bath-room ; but at last the children were 
 pronounced clean, and ready for the clothing 
 which Mrs. Gray had provided with no niggardly 
 hand. Indeed, Marian knew that if she was 
 once persuaded to do any thing, it would be 
 carried out in all the details. There were warm 
 flannels, with long stockings and strong shoes ; 
 a full suit of Fred's, outgrown and not badly 
 worn ; a felt skirt and a flannel dress of Ber- 
 tie's ; there was even an overcoat, and mittens, 
 and a cloak and hood. Nothing seemed to be 
 wanting to a complete outfit for both children. 
 
 "There," said Mrs. Gray, "I have done this 
 to please you, and against my judgment. I as- 
 sure you that in a week they will be here again, 
 ragged and dirty. They never keep any thing 
 decent." 
 
 " Children," said Marian, " I want you to 
 come and see me next Saturday, and see how 
 clean and nice you can keep your clothes, and
 
 28 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 how clean you can have your faces and hands. 
 Do you understand ? " 
 
 They nodded, and went away. 
 
 " They make me think of little pigs," said 
 Marian, laughing. "They seemed to enjoy 
 their bath, but they expressed their pleasure 
 only by little grunts." 
 
 "There, you have it exactly! They are like 
 pigs, and that is the way they live. I can tell 
 you, Marian, if you could see the hovel they 
 live in, you would understand me better." 
 
 The following Saturday the children appeared, 
 according to promise ; they had evidently made 
 an effort to be decent, and Mrs. Gray acknowl- 
 edged that they looked much better than she 
 expected. They came again ; and, indeed, they 
 became such frequent visitors, that it was a 
 subject of laughing remark that the Barneys 
 were Marian's proteges. 
 
 Mrs. Gray senior was somewhat of an invalid, 
 and Dr. Carlton was a frequent visitor. One 
 day he remarked to Marian, 
 
 "The mother of your prot/gfc is going to die, 
 I am afraid."
 
 TRANSFORMED. 29 
 
 " Why, doctor ! I did not know she was sick. 
 The children did say that ' mam ' as they call 
 her was sick; but Mrs. Gray remarked that 
 they always said that, and that she did not 
 suppose she was sicker than usual." 
 
 " But she is very sick ; I have little hopes of 
 her, under the circumstances." 
 
 " Who takes care of her ? " asked Marian. 
 
 " She does not know what that means," said 
 the doctor. "And that is the trouble; if she 
 could have a little attention, she might pull 
 through this sickness. I can only get around 
 there once a day. The fact is, I can't do her 
 any good ; it is nursing she needs, and that she 
 can't have." 
 
 "Can't? Why not?" 
 
 " Who is to nurse her ? " 
 
 " Christian people." 
 
 "Humph! Christian people in this vicinity 
 have something better to do." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " asked Marian, 
 shocked. 
 
 The doctor laughed as he replied, "Why, 
 there's a meeting at our house this afternoon,
 
 30 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 to make up a bundle, or box, or something, to 
 send off to some missionary station out West. 
 That is all right, if only they will set a box 
 alongside to fill for the Barneys ; I am sure 
 they are heathenish enough to call for mission- 
 ary effort." 
 
 " Doctor, what is wanted over there ? " 
 
 " Every thing." 
 
 " When are you going over again ? " 
 
 "Now." 
 
 " May I go with you ? " 
 
 " Marian ! " expostulated Mrs. Gray. 
 
 " Let her go. I'll take care of her." 
 
 " Yes, I am going. I want to see for myself 
 what all this is about. You all say such dread- 
 ful things, but I suppose they are human." 
 
 As Marian turned to leave the room in search 
 of her wraps, Mrs. Gray remarked not ill- 
 naturedly, " I do not suppose you'll listen to 
 advice, but I would suggest that you wear 
 something that you will be willing to burn or 
 bury." 
 
 "Why, doctor, is it so bad as that?" said 
 Marian, aghast.
 
 TRANSFORMED. 31 
 
 " Not quite, but it is bad. You may as well 
 wear your old clothes if you have any." 
 
 When, in the course of half an hour, Dr. 
 Carlton's cutter stopped in front of the Barney 
 hovel, Marian was more dismayed than she al- 
 lowed her face to express. Could it be possible 
 that human beings lived in such a wretched 
 place as that ? Why, Mr. Gray's pig-sty cer- 
 tainly presented a more inviting aspect ! But 
 then, Mr. Gray was a fancy farmer, and his out- 
 buildings were kept in perfect order. 
 
 But if the exterior repelled, what did she 
 think of that wretched interior? 
 
 " Do you think you will go in ? " asked the 
 doctor. " I shall not stay long, if you have a 
 mind to sit in the sleigh." 
 
 " Indeed I am going in," she said bravely. 
 "I have come to see the sick woman, and I 
 hope I am not made of the stuff to turn back 
 now."
 
 32 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 "I was sick, and ye visited me." 
 
 MARIAN shivered slightly as she followed the 
 doctor into the wretched place. Her little ac- 
 quaintances, John and Annie, as she always 
 called them, believing that the children would 
 have more self-respect if they could drop the 
 disagreeable nicknames, greeted her shyly; 
 and Barney himself shambled forward, and 
 made a pretence of offering the hospitalities 
 of the place. But Marian's eyes were intent 
 upon the face of the woman whose wild eyes 
 gleamed out at her through the doorway of the 
 rough bedroom. As the doctor advanced to 
 the side of his patient, she exclaimed, 
 
 "Who is that ?" pointing her bony finger at 
 Marian. 
 
 The doctor beckoned the girl forward. " This
 
 TRANSFORMED. 33 
 
 is a friend who has come to see what she can 
 do for you," he said ; while Annie, clinging to 
 Marian, said, 
 
 " Mam ! mam ! it is the beautiful lady." 
 
 Marian stood by while the doctor asked a few 
 questions : she watched his face, and as he 
 turned away heard him mutter, " And there's 
 no one to help, and no one to care ! " 
 
 She followed him into the outer room. 
 
 "Doctor," she said, "give your directions for 
 the day to me : I will see that they are carried 
 out." 
 
 " You ! " 
 
 " Yes ; I am going to stay and take care of 
 her until some one can be found who is able to 
 do better." 
 
 "But, Miss Marian, you ought not. Mrs. 
 Gray will never consent." 
 
 " Yes, she will ; anyway, I am here." 
 
 " But I promised to bring you back." 
 
 Marian thought a moment. "That was a 
 foolish promise to make. But perhaps it will 
 be- better to go. Give her the medicine you 
 wish her to have now, and as we drive back
 
 34 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 you can tell me exactly what to do ; that is, 
 if you think it will do to leave her so long." 
 
 The doctor smiled. How suddenly it had 
 become necessary that the sick woman should 
 have a constant attendant ! He mused a few 
 seconds, then said, 
 
 "I have a call to make, a mile farther on. I 
 will leave you here to find out what is most 
 needed, for I think they are nearly starved ; and 
 then we can decide what to do, as we drive 
 back to Mr. Gray's. The woman is compara- 
 tively free from fever now ; but by three o'clock 
 it will be raging, and she will need care for the 
 rest of the day. It is a sort of low remittent 
 fever that is wasting her strength away, caused 
 largely by want of proper food." 
 
 Within an hour Marian learned several things. 
 One was, that there was not food in the house 
 for a single meal ; another, that the house, the 
 bed even upon which the woman lay, was in- 
 expressibly filthy. As she drove home with 
 Dr. Carlton, they discussed ways and means. 
 Finally Marian said, 
 
 "Unless Mr. Gray positively forbids, and
 
 TRANSFORMED. 35 
 
 he will not, I am going back. I shall gather 
 a few comforts for the woman, and some food 
 for the children. I never heard of such desti- 
 tution." 
 
 " Mr. Gray," Marian began as soon as she 
 entered the house, "can I have Patrick and the 
 long sleigh for two hours ? I want to take 
 some things up to the Barneys." 
 
 "You may as well say 'Yes 'at once," said 
 Dr. Carlton ; "for I shall have to go back un- 
 less you do, and my patients will have to suffer. 
 But, seriously, something ought to be done : 
 they are suffering." 
 
 "All right. I'll order Patrick to be at the 
 door in fifteen minutes. Will that be soon 
 enough for your ladyship ? " 
 
 "Well, sir, what will you give towards my 
 load ? " 
 
 " What do you want ? " 
 
 "Any thing they can eat, wear, or sleep 
 upon." 
 
 "Very well: I'll put in a bushel or two of 
 potatoes, some flour, and meat." 
 
 " I am anxious about a bed for the sick
 
 36 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 woman ; can you let Patrick put in two or three 
 bundles of clean straw? Or, wait: I'll see if 
 auntie Clara will not let me have a straw tick, 
 and I know there's an old feather-bed in the 
 attic that I can have. I have some sheets of 
 my own ; and somebody will give the comfort- 
 ables, I guess." 
 
 " It looks as if you would need the long 
 sleigh," said Mr. Gray. 
 
 " Of course ! I am going to beg my way over 
 there." 
 
 And that was exactly what she did. Mrs. 
 Gray furnished the bed, though declaring it 
 was of no use to try to do any thing for the 
 Barneys. At Mrs. Preston's she secured a 
 quilt and a comfortable, and some decent un- 
 derwear for the sick woman, and Mr. Preston 
 gave her a dollar. Another neighbor added 
 apples and butter; another, a jug of milk; and 
 still another, a package of children's clothing, 
 saying, " I don't feel like giving old Barney any 
 thing, but I don't want the children to surfer." 
 
 It was two o'clock when Marian arrived at 
 the little hovel with her supplies.
 
 TRANSFORMED. 37 
 
 " There isn't a decent place inside to put any 
 thing," she said to Patrick; "so I think it will 
 be best to leave what we can out in the pure 
 air until I get things cleared up a little. The 
 first thing will be to get the woman on a clean 
 bed. Mr. Gray said you could stay and help 
 me as long as I needed you." 
 
 Patrick, who would do any thing for " Miss 
 Marian," assented, and, carefully covering his 
 horses, began to unload. 
 
 The doctor had said that if his patient could 
 be bathed in saleratus-vvater, it would be re- 
 freshing and beneficial ; and Marian remember- 
 ing had brought a package, and also a supply 
 of towels and soft cloths from her own store. 
 What a wonder that bath was to the miserable 
 woman ! 
 
 And I want to stop here, and ask you, my 
 friend, if you think it was a little thing to do ? 
 If young Gray could have seen that delicate 
 girl standing amid the squalor and filth of that 
 hovel, surrounded by that miserable group, with 
 the father lying upon a bundle of rags in the 
 corner in a half-unconscious state, he might
 
 38 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 have changed his opinion in regard to the 
 "sentimentalism " of at least one of the group 
 of "sweet girl-graduates." But I do not know : 
 his prejudices were deep ; and, although he had 
 learned to respect and admire Miss Kingsley, 
 he was still sceptical ; and it would have re- 
 quired, even then, the knowledge of more than 
 one act of self-sacrifice to remove it. 
 
 Patrick was called to assist in arranging the 
 clean bed, and to lift the invalid. When the 
 poor woman, in fresh, sweet-smelling garments, 
 was finally laid between the clean sheets, upon 
 the soft yielding bed, it seemed to Marian that 
 she could see a look of peace steal over her wan 
 face ; and, as if talking to herself, the poor 
 creature said, " Can it be ? " and Marian bend- 
 ing low caught the whisper again, 
 
 " Can it be ? Is it heaven ? " 
 
 There had been no time to do any thing 
 towards making the room clean ; and Marian 
 looked with dismay at the accumulations it 
 seemed to her it must be of centuries which 
 the changing of the bedding had revealed. To 
 make the invalid as comfortable as possible, was
 
 TRANSFORMED. 39 
 
 the first consideration : other matters must 
 wait. She had directed Patrick to take from 
 a basket which grandmother Gray and Bridget 
 had filled, some crackers and cakes for the 
 hungry children ; and, as soon as the mother 
 seemed to be resting, she said, 
 
 " Now, children, we have a great deal to do. 
 While your mother sleeps, we must clear up 
 here a little. There are some potatoes in a bag, 
 and some apples ; and, if you will help me, I 
 will cook some meat, and give you a grand sup- 
 per. First we will clear off those shelves, and 
 place the things I have brought there. Here 
 
 what is your name ? Reg ? Well, take those 
 chairs outside, and scrub them thoroughly with 
 this brush. Here's soap, and a basin of water. 
 
 Here, Johnnie, you are to wash the table, 
 and as soon as your father wakens we will have 
 him mend it." And so directing the rest, and 
 working busily herself, going in often to look 
 at her patient, things began to look " cleared 
 up." 
 
 When, about six o'clock, the doctor drove up, 
 and hurried anxiously in, he stopped at the door
 
 40 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 astonished. The shelves across the " L " had 
 been cleared of rubbish, and covered with news- 
 papers, of which enough had been taken from 
 the different packages. The stove had been 
 washed ; and Marian had promised the children 
 that she would bring some blacking the next 
 time she came, so that Reg could black the 
 stove. Old Barney had roused himself, and 
 working under Marian's direction, submissive 
 like the others to her ordering, had succeeded 
 in mending the old table so that it could be 
 set out in the middle of the room, though it 
 required some propping on account of the 
 unevenness of the floor. The supply of news- 
 papers holding out, Marian had improvised a 
 table-cover ; and having found among the rub- 
 bish that lay around the room, especially in the 
 corners, quite a supply of dishes and knives 
 and forks, the table was set for the family. 
 Even the missing old spoon had been found. 
 There were baked potatoes and fried meat, and 
 a loaf of bread and some butter, besides milk 
 in an old tin cup. 
 
 They were waiting for Barney, who, still
 
 TRANSFORMED. 41 
 
 working under Marian's direction, wa? cutting 
 wood to fill a box which had been found out- 
 side, and which Marian decided should be the 
 wood-box. 
 
 " You must have wood enough to keep a fire 
 all night," she declared; "for Mrs. Barney is 
 very sick, and must have a warm room." 
 
 The doctor advanced to the side of his pa- 
 tient, and was still more astonished at the 
 change in her appearance. She was certainly 
 no worse, and some symptoms seemed rather 
 more favorable. She was not so restless as the 
 previous day. " Miss Marian, are you a fairy? " 
 he said; then, more seriously, "what have you 
 eaten to-day ? " 
 
 "Nothing since breakfast, excepting a cup of 
 chocolate when we went down home at noon." 
 
 " I thought likely. Well, get ready to go as 
 soon as possible." 
 
 " But what will we do about to-night ? " 
 
 "I don't know ; but one thing is certain, you 
 cannot stay here. I think Barney is sober 
 enough, and has sense enough, to manage, and 
 to carry out my directions. Anyway, it is all
 
 42 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 we can do. I told Mr. Gray I would bring you 
 home." 
 
 " I thought I would stay until about ten 
 o'clock, and told Patrick to come then," she 
 replied. 
 
 " You are to go with me." 
 
 After giving Barney some peremptory orders, 
 the doctor hurried Marian away. When they 
 were gone, the family sat down to their own 
 table, for the first time in years ! It is a fact, 
 that none of the younger children had ever 
 seen a table set for a meal ; and they gazed 
 wonderingly at the unwonted spectacle.
 
 TRANSFORMED. 43 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 " For even Christ pleased not himself." 
 
 MARIAN KINGSLEY had been cared for by her 
 guardian and his wife with great tenderness, 
 and she felt that she owed to these early friends 
 of her parents respect and deference to their 
 wishes. But in most matters she was allowed 
 to have her own way. In regard to going to 
 the Barney hovel, Mrs. Gray was strongly op- 
 posed ; but her husband yielded to Marian's 
 persuasions, and grandmother Gray said, 
 
 " Let the child go ! It may be that she will 
 do them good. And there is not much risk to 
 run ; Barney is not ugly or cross, even when 
 he has been drinking." 
 
 And so, with encouraging words, Marian was 
 allowed to go her way, with this restriction : 
 she was not to spend a night in the swamp.
 
 44 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 For many days Mrs. Barney hovered upon 
 the borders of the grave. Dr. Carlton said he 
 had been unable to get the control of the fever, 
 and that it must run its course ; and run it did 
 for weeks. And when at last the fever left the 
 patient, it left her so weak that it seemed impos- 
 sible that she could rally. 
 
 Marian was faithful to her self-imposed task. 
 Every morning she went to spend a few hours 
 caring for the sick woman. Sometimes she 
 rode up with the doctor; and sometimes Pat- 
 rick drove up with her, and went again after 
 her later in the day. 
 
 It was during the first week of her acquaint- 
 ance with the family, that she undertook the 
 task of clearing out that bedroom. The work 
 had to be done cautiously and quietly, during 
 the more comfortable hours of the patient ; but 
 the doctor said she would be more likely to re- 
 cover if the place were clean, even if she should 
 be somewhat disturbed by the cleansing process. 
 
 Just over the head of the bed, high enough 
 to be reached by one lying in bed, was a shelf 
 fastened upon the wall : here stood an old tin
 
 TRANSFORMED. 4.5 
 
 candlestick with a tallow candle in it. It had 
 been Mrs. Barney's habit to lie in bed, and read 
 novels ; and the drippings from the candle had 
 smeared the shelf, and accumulated in masses 
 of dirty tallow. And while she read, Barney 
 smoked; and at the other end of the shelf were 
 clay pipes, black and vile-smelling, bits of to- 
 bacco, burnt wisps of paper, and little heaps of 
 ashes. There was a dime novel or two, a piece 
 of mouldy bread, a slice of salt pork dry and 
 rusty, a saucer of grease with a rag in it which 
 had been made to take the place of the candle 
 when that gave out. Under the bed how 
 shall I tell it ? Marian, in speaking of it after- 
 wards, said, 
 
 "Reg and I cleared it out; but oh, it was 
 dreadful ! He carried out three bushel-basket- 
 fuls of rubbish, shovelled it in with an old 
 shovel. There were sticks of fire-wood ; Reg 
 said the way those came there was by being 
 thrown under the bed to scare out the cat. 
 There were rotten apples, potatoes, rags and 
 paper, dime novels and old pipes, half-used 
 packages of tobacco, a broken jug and empty
 
 46 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 bottles. There were long-lost garments too. 
 Once Reg held up an apron ; and his mother 
 said faintly, 'Why, there's that apron of Nan's 
 that I looked everywhere for, and I reckoned 
 she'd done gone and lef it in the berry-lot las' 
 summer ! ' And another time Reg exclaimed, 
 'There's that shoe of mine ! I lost it two years 
 ago ; and I couldn't wear the mate, so I went 
 barefoot. I reckon t' other's round somewheres. 
 I'll have a pair now. But laws ! they'd be too 
 small for me, jist about big 'nuff for Pug. 
 Reckon it must 'ave been more'n two years 
 since I lost it.' ' 
 
 Marian discovered that the boy Sam was 
 teachable in the line of housekeeping ; and she 
 taught him how to prepare some plain dishes, 
 and showed Annie how to set the table, so that 
 between the two a sort of housekeeping was 
 carried on. She also discovered that Sam could 
 be trusted to give his mother her medicine reg- 
 ularly, that is, as regularly as possible with- 
 out a timepiece, and one day while rummag- 
 ing in the attic she found an old clock, which she 
 coaxed a jack-at-all-trades in the village to put
 
 TRANSFORMED. 47 
 
 into running order, and this she lent to Sam. 
 I3ut she found, to her astonishment, that none 
 of the children were able to tell the time from a 
 clock ; and she spent several days in teaching 
 them this accomplishment. 
 
 The people who had so long been indifferent 
 to the welfare and enlightenment of the heathen 
 in their vicinity, now that some one had been 
 found .to take an interest in them were ready to 
 follow and help with their means, though no 
 one was found ready to put a hand to the work. 
 
 One day Dr. Carlton said, 
 
 "The woman stands a narrow chance of get- 
 ting well, with all those children in the house 
 continually : they cannot keep very still, and 
 she needs quiet." 
 
 Marian made some calls that afternoon. To 
 Mrs. Preston she said, 
 
 " I have come to ask a favor. I am trying to 
 find places for two of the Barney children for 
 a few days while the mother lies so low : I 
 thought perhaps you would give them a bed, 
 and feed them." 
 
 "What ! those dirty little vagrants?"
 
 48 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 " Oh ! I assure you they are not dirty. I 
 washed them myself, and they have decent 
 clothing: indeed, they are quite respectable." 
 And Marian pleaded so earnestly for the for- 
 lorn little ones, that Mrs. Preston consented to 
 receive them if Betty was willing ; and Marian 
 was allowed to plead with Betty, and succeeded 
 quite as easily, indeed, more easily than with 
 her mistress. Mrs. Stone promised to take 
 Estelle for a few days. And Marian took the 
 little one home. She prevailed upon Bridget to 
 look after him during the hours she spent with 
 the sick mother. " If you will only take care 
 of him while I am away," she said, " I will make 
 it up to you." And Bridget, who knew Miss 
 Marian meant what she said, and that it would 
 be a liberal making-up, consented to do a kind 
 act. 
 
 The place was more quiet with the younger 
 ones away ; Sam acting as nurse, Reg going in 
 and out subdued and still, doing many a kind 
 and thoughtful act for the sake of Miss Marian, 
 who had won his heart by her kindness and 
 tact. Barney himself drank less whiskey than
 
 TRANSFORMED. 49 
 
 usual, and smoked less. He kept the supply of 
 fire-wood constantly replenished ; and at Mari- 
 an's suggestion he brought some boards from 
 the neighboring saw-mill, and laid them down 
 in both rooms as evenly as possible, for a floor. 
 "It will be better than the damp ground," Mar- 
 ian said ; " and when your wife is better you 
 can lay them properly." 
 
 A great many things were to be done when 
 the sick woman should be well again. Marian 
 always seemed to take it for granted, that the 
 condition of affairs was largely owing to the ill- 
 ness of the wife and mother. She never criti- 
 cised or blamed, but sympathized with the 
 family in their misfortunes, and encouraged 
 them to hope for better things when their 
 mother should be well again. Already a feel- 
 ing of self-respect was springing up in the boy 
 Reg's heart ; and Marian moved cautiously, and 
 prayed that it might not be trampled upon 
 and crushed out. 
 
 Dr. Carlton, meeting young Gray one day, 
 said to him with a quizzical expression, " Miss 
 Kingsley has selected a queer spot for angling."
 
 50 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 " What do you mean ? " 
 
 "Oh, nothing! only, if I were going to put 
 a hook into the water, I would select a stream 
 which was frequented by the sort of fish I 
 wanted to catch ; that's all. She won't catch 
 any thing over at Barney's, unless it be a ty- 
 phus or malaria." 
 
 " Seems to me, doctor, you talk in riddles/' 
 said his friend. 
 
 " I believe you are the young man who not 
 many months ago suggested that a young lady's 
 life-work was to angle for a husband ; and I re- 
 marked just now that Miss Kingsley has chosen 
 a queer place for her fishing-ground, if a hus- 
 band is what she is after. I never saw the 
 husband that I thought was worth what she has 
 been through during the last four or five weeks." 
 
 " Oh ! Miss Kingsley has no other amusement 
 at present. Let something come up which 
 promises more entertainment, and I'll warrant 
 you she will drop the Barneys." 
 
 "Not while that woman needs her. She is 
 not the sort, having put her hand to a thing, to 
 turn back."
 
 TRANSFORMED. 51 
 
 " I feel like proving you in the wrong for 
 once ! " exclaimed Mr. Gray. 
 
 " How would you do it ? " 
 
 " By actual experiment." 
 
 " I do not understand." 
 
 " I mean that I would prove to you that Miss 
 Kingsley can be turned from this absorbing 
 occupation, or entertainment, simply by the 
 presentation to her mind of a matter of selfish 
 interest ; and my sister-in-law and myself have 
 such a plan in view." 
 
 " You will fail." 
 
 " We will not fail : I am sure of it. Miss 
 Kingsley is not superior to certain induce- 
 ments, as I shall prove to you. It is no secret ; 
 at least, it will not be after this evening. I 
 am going out to my brother's to talk it over. 
 Lewis only decided this morning that he could 
 bring it about. It is only this : my brother 
 and his wife, with Cora Butler, Miss Kingsley, 
 and myself, will make up a party to spend the 
 winter in Florida. Miss Kingsley was very 
 anxious to go a month ago, and I think her 
 Quixotic scheme for lifting up the Barneys will
 
 52 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 fall to the ground before this opportunity of 
 realizing her dream. If they go, they are to 
 start in a week from now." 
 
 " Your plan will fail," said the doctor. " The 
 mistake you make is in thinking she has a 
 scheme for elevating the Barneys. She simply 
 sees a bit of work there waiting for her, and 
 she has put her hand to it : that is all. And it 
 is work, but it tells ! I would not give a flip 
 for the woman's life if Miss Kingsley deserts 
 her now." 
 
 " Nonsense ! That sort of people live through 
 every thing." 
 
 " Well, I'd like to go out with you to-night, 
 and witness your triumph," with a slight em- 
 phasis upon the last word. 
 
 "Very well. I shall be glad of your com- 
 pany, and you know you are a welcome guest 
 at my brother's." 
 
 The two friends found Mrs. Gray alone, and 
 apparently not in good humor. 
 
 " I am glad you came out," she said to her 
 brother-in-law ; " and I am glad to see Dr. Carl- 
 ton ; though I believe, if he did not get us into
 
 TRANSFORMED. 53 
 
 this trouble, he has helped it on, and now he 
 ought to help us out." 
 
 " Why, what is the matter ? " asked young 
 Gray. 
 
 " Marian says she cannot go with us. If the 
 doctor here will only say that she needs a 
 change, perhaps she would believe him." 
 
 Just then Marian entered the room, looking 
 the picture of perfect health. The doctor 
 smiled at the idea of sending her off to Florida 
 in search of what she already possessed in 
 perfection. 
 
 Very soon after the greetings, the subject of 
 the Southern trip was again brought up. This 
 time it was Mr. Fred Gray who broached it : 
 " Miss Marian, what do you think of this plan 
 of Lewis's ? " 
 
 "Oh! I am very glad he has decided to go. 
 I only hope that the doctor's hopes will be 
 realized, and that he will come back strong 
 and well. Of course I shall miss them dread- 
 fully, but I am so busy that I shall not mind 
 it much." 
 
 " But you are going with them ? "
 
 54 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 " No : I cannot see my way clear to go. I 
 was wild to spend this winter in Florida, but 
 that was before I got my hands so full of work. 
 I may go later, if there should be an opportu- 
 nity for escort, and I could leave. I am glad 
 Cora is going : you will be a pleasant party." 
 
 "But, Marian Miss Kingsley I don't un- 
 derstand. But come into the library : I want 
 to talk with you ; " and rising he led the way. 
 
 Since that June day when Fred Gray went 
 up to the commencement to bring home his 
 brother's ward, he had become somewhat famil- 
 iar with that young lady. They had been 
 thrown much together, as he was often at his 
 brother's home. He had found her a pleasant 
 companion, and admired her very much ; indeed, 
 he sometimes fancied that he more than ad- 
 mired her. But, after all, he knew very little 
 about the real girl Marian, as events proved. 
 She, on her side, liked the young man. Half 
 the charm of this Florida scheme lay in the fact 
 that he was to make one of the party. She 
 said she was glad that Mrs. Gray's sister was 
 going, and she spoke truly; yet" it cost her a
 
 TRANSFORMED. 55 
 
 little effort to be glad. Cora-Butler liked Fred 
 Gray, and she was herself a very attractive 
 young lady : what might not come of their being 
 thrown together in this way ? There was a 
 powerful temptation set before this girl Mari- 
 an ; and as Fred placed her in an easy-chair, 
 and stood beside her ready for the talk, she 
 wondered within herself, would she hold out 
 against them all, especially against him ? 
 
 "Now, Miss Marian, will you allow me to 
 express my views about this matter ? " 
 
 " Certainly. I have neither the right nor the 
 wish to deny you the privilege of free speech," 
 she said, laughing. 
 
 "Believe me, Marian, this is not a subject for 
 jest." 
 
 She was sober instantly. " Excuse me," she 
 said ; " I did not know Has any thing hap- 
 pened ? Is uncle Lewis worse than we have 
 thought ? " And her cheek had paled in an 
 instant. Perceiving this he replied quickly, 
 
 "Nothing has happened, or is likely to hap- 
 pen, that I know of. But I want to ask you 
 seriously, why you refuse to join this party. Is
 
 56 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 there any thing disagreeable in the making-up 
 of the party ? " 
 
 " Oh, no ! it is perfect." Then she blushed 
 at her own admission ; but rallying from her 
 momentary confusion she added, " But I cannot 
 leave Waltham just at present; because I have 
 put my hand to some work, and unless the need 
 for my staying should suddenly cease, I must 
 not drop what I have undertaken." 
 
 "But, Marian," and his voice took on the 
 persuasive tone which he knew so well how to 
 use effectively, " others have need of you. I 
 have been looking forward to this trip with 
 pleasure ever since Lewis proposed it. The 
 Barneys have no claim upon you." 
 
 "You are mistaken. The Barneys have a 
 claim upon me, just now, that is stronger than 
 any other." 
 
 " What is that claim, pray ? " 
 
 "They need me." 
 
 " Nonsense ! " Mr. Fred Gray quite forgot 
 himself in his vexation over his evident failure 
 to make an impression, or he would never have 
 spoken thus to a lady ; and he instantly apolo-
 
 TRANSFORMED. 57 
 
 gized : " Excuse me. But, Marian, you might 
 say the same of all the poor wretches in the 
 country. They all need you, but you will 
 scarcely consider it your duty to look after 
 them all?" 
 
 " No, only those whom I can reach. We are 
 never required to work impossibilities." 
 
 " Only those whom you can reach ! Then I 
 suppose, after you have made the Barneys over 
 new, you will try your hand upon some other 
 outcast family." 
 
 " Possibly : I work under orders." 
 
 He looked an inquiry which she answered, - 
 
 " ' What saith my Lord unto his servant ? ' 
 Mr. Gray, I am a servant of the Lord Jesus 
 Christ : I may not shirk when he gives me 
 work." 
 
 " Of course not. I am a Christian too ; but 
 I believe the Lord has given us common-sense 
 to guide us, and that is the only way he directs 
 us as to our work." 
 
 She smiled. "Then, you do not believe that 
 he meant it when he said, ' I will instruct thee, 
 and teach thee in the way which thou shalt 
 go ' ? "
 
 58 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 "Certainly I believe it, in just that way : we 
 are to follow our judgment, and live up to the 
 light of reason, subjecting all, of course, to 
 the general teachings of the word of God." 
 
 "Then, you do not think that we may receive 
 special direction, and that the word of God con- 
 tains particular as well as general directions?" 
 
 " Miss Marian, we are getting away from the 
 subject. We do not want to discuss theolo- 
 gical questions to-night : we shall have time 
 enough for that in sunny Florida, among the 
 orange-groves." 
 
 " Mr. Gray, cannot I make you understand 
 that it is quite out of the question that I should 
 join your party ? " 
 
 " I don't want to understand it. I think 
 Lewis ought to use his authority." 
 
 " I beg your pardon ; but, while I acknowl- 
 edge that I owe much to your brother, I believe 
 that he does not claim to have any authority 
 over my personal movements. However, I 
 should feel that I ought to yield to his wishes. 
 But he quite agrees with me, and has decided 
 to make his arrangements without regard to 
 me."
 
 TRANSFORMED. 59 
 
 "And he will leave a young girl like you 
 here alone ! " 
 
 " Oh, no ! Grandmother Gray is to remain 
 here, at least as long as I do : if she goes to 
 stay a while with Helen, I shall accompany her. 
 Indeed, that is one reason why uncle Lewis 
 and I have decided that I ought to stay. She 
 wishes to remain here, and she ought not to be 
 left alone." 
 
 Now, Mr. Fred Gray was very fond of his 
 mother, and he was just a little touched by this 
 thoughtfulness on Marian's part. Still, he had 
 supposed she would spend the winter with his 
 sister Helen in her city home, and he was just 
 a little vexed that his last argument was knocked 
 away. He fully expected to convince Marian 
 and his brother that it would be very improper 
 for her to remain at home alone with only the 
 servants ; but, if his mother was to be there, 
 there was no chance for any discussion on that 
 point. 
 
 " Oughtn't we to return to the parlor ? " asked 
 Marian presently. " I see that Mr. and Mrs. 
 Preston have come in."
 
 60 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 Dr. Carlton could not help giving a little 
 glance of " I told you so " at his friend, as the 
 pair re-entered the parlor, Marian calm and 
 serene, Fred looking savage. Presently he 
 went across the hall to his mother's room, to 
 try to persuade her that if she positively would 
 not go to Florida it would be better for her to 
 go to Helen at once. 
 
 " You know, mother, we should all feel easier 
 if we knew you were with one of your children. 
 If you should be sick, who would take care of 
 you ? " 
 
 " Why, Marian and Dr. Carlton, of course." 
 
 Fred winced : the coupling of those names 
 was quite unpremeditated on his mother's part, 
 but he did not like it some way. 
 
 "That is one reason why I do not want to go. 
 Dr. Carlton tells me confidentially that he is 
 going away from Waltham in February, and I 
 am anxious to continue the treatment he is giv- 
 ing me as long as possible. I presume Marian 
 and I will go to Helen's as soon as he leaves." 
 
 Evidently there was nothing to be gained 
 here ; and, somewhat wrathful, the young man
 
 TKA XSFORMED. 6 1 
 
 announced to his friend that he was ready to go. 
 He waited impatiently while Dr. Carlton made 
 a deliberate adieu, stopping to chat a moment 
 with Marian and Mrs. Preston about the little 
 Barneys. 
 
 " We have opened a regular orphan-asylum," 
 declared Mrs. Preston. " My husband told 
 Marian only this morning that he was quite 
 ready to take in all she would bring, after she 
 had fixed them up a little. He says he would 
 never suspect that they were the same children 
 he passed on the street a few weeks ago, carry- 
 ing an empty bag." 
 
 " I declare ! " said Fred savagely, " I believe 
 the whole town has gone crazy over that miser- 
 able outcast family. I wish I had never heard 
 of them." 
 
 Mrs. Preston looked at him with wonder in 
 her face ; and the young man, seeing that he 
 was making an idiot of himself, laughed, and 
 said, 
 
 " Come, doctor, if you are going home with 
 me, you'll have to wind up that conversation."
 
 62 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 What think ye of Christ ? " 
 
 SOON after her first visit, Marian Kingsley 
 fell into the habit of reading a little to her pa- 
 tient as soon as she had attended to her physi- 
 cal needs. The few dime novels which were 
 scattered about, greasy and dog-eared, were the 
 only books the hovel contained ; excepting an 
 old primary spelling-book from which the par- 
 ents, in some spasm of interest in their wel- 
 fare, had taught the older boys to read a little. 
 Reg could read simple words, and Sam quite as 
 well ; but there was nothing to read, why should 
 they learn ? As for going to school, that was 
 out of the question : they never had clothes to 
 make themselves decent. Once, a long time 
 ago, Reg went for a few days ; and that was 
 how they became possessed of a spelling-book.
 
 TRANSFORMED. 63 
 
 The other children had never seen the inside 
 of a schoolhouse or church. As for a Bible, 
 they had not even heard the name, much less 
 seen one. Think of it ! within the sound of 
 the church-bells, in a Christian community, and 
 had never seen a Bible ! Dear reader, do you 
 live in Waltham? and are there any Barneys in 
 your neighborhood ? If so, God grant that you 
 may be a Marian Kingsley ! 
 
 When Marian asked the sick woman, " Shall 
 I read a little to you ? " she replied, " Yes : I 
 was reading a story when I got too sick to read 
 any more, but I dunno what's come o' the 
 paper." 
 
 " Never mind : I have a book which I think 
 you'll like." 
 
 And softly she read bits from the Word of 
 God ; only a few verses, for the woman was very 
 weak. She read without comment, praying 
 that the Holy Spirit might make the word effect- 
 ual. One morning there was a slight show of 
 interest, and the pale lips moved : 
 
 " What was that ? " 
 
 Marian repeated, " ' Come unto me, all ye
 
 64 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give 
 you rest.' " 
 
 "Who said that? I am weary: I want 
 rest." 
 
 " Christ says it." 
 
 " Is it true ? " 
 
 "Yes, it is true : I know it is so. You may 
 trust him." 
 
 "But I am sick I cannot go. I wish I 
 could, I am so tired ! " And the eyes closed, 
 and the weary hands, which had been raised a 
 little in her eagerness, fell helplessly. 
 
 Marian laid down her book. " Let me tell 
 you about it. You need not go : Christ can 
 hear your faintest whisper. You have surely 
 heard of God ? " 
 
 " Yes ; but it was so long ago I cannot re- 
 member. God is a Spirit is that it?" 
 
 " Yes, God is a Spirit : he is here, and if you 
 whisper ever so softly he will hear you." 
 
 "Me! Hear me!" 
 
 " Yes : he has said so. All who will may 
 come to him." 
 
 Then, lest her patient be wearied with talk- 
 ing, Marian began to sing softly,
 
 TRANSFORMED. 65 
 
 " Jesus, lover of my soul." 
 
 And presently the tired brain and wearied 
 body sank into a restful sleep. 
 
 Another time she said, 
 
 '"Blessed are they that hunger and thirst.' 
 I have been so hungry ! Will I be fed ? " 
 
 Sometimes, while the mother slept, Marian 
 talked to the boys, Reg and Sam. She told 
 them the story of Jesus, making it plain and 
 simple ; so that it was clear to them that Jesus 
 became a little child, that he went about doing 
 good, and at length was cruelly put to death 
 by his enemies. As she dwelt tearfully upon 
 the sad details of the story, Sam exclaimed, 
 
 "What a shame! I hate them!" 
 
 "But Jesus forgave them." 
 
 " I wouldn't ! I'd have hated them ! What 
 did he do it for ? He was God, he could have 
 kiKed them in a minute: what did he let them* 
 do it for ? " 
 
 Then Marian tried to tell them how Christ 
 died for them, how for their sins he had suf- 
 fered ; and slowly Sam seemed to take in the 
 wonderful truth, saying as it dawned upon him,
 
 66 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 " Are you sure it is true ? Mam sometimes 
 tells us stories that would be nice if they were 
 true, but you say this is true ? " 
 
 " It is true, Sam. Christ loves us all ; and he 
 died for us, and he wants us to love him." 
 
 " Why, I'll love him if he wants me to ! I 
 should think anybody would. What does he 
 want me to do ? " 
 
 This question startled Marian. Here was a 
 soul repeating the cry of one arrested by the 
 Spirit, eighteen hundred years ago, on the road 
 to Damascus ! Could it be that in that hovel 
 a soul had been born into the kingdom ? 
 Amazed and awed, lifting her heart to God in 
 quick petition, she replied, 
 
 "Sam, he wants you to just give yourself to 
 him, to be his servant forever. His commands 
 are all written out in this Book ; and you must 
 4earn to read it, and you will know his will. 
 You must pray to him continually." 
 
 " I never heard any one pray : I don't know 
 how." 
 
 Ten years old, and never heard a prayer ! 
 
 " Miss Kingsley," he said, " is that what they
 
 TRANSFORMED. 6/ 
 
 do at a place they call a church ? I've seen 
 that big white house with a thing on the top, 
 and I've hearn the bell sometimes in summer ; 
 but I've never been in there. Would they let 
 me in if I could learn how to pray ? " 
 
 Marian replied promptly to this inquiry ; yet 
 in her heart she wondered, would they ? Not 
 that she thought for an instant that they would 
 turn the poor little lame boy away from the 
 church-door, at least, if he should appear 
 clothed respectably : she was not so sure how 
 it would be if he wore the garments in which 
 she first saw him, or if they knew that he was 
 one of the Barneys. 
 
 There was something wrong about the 
 Waltham church. It was dying, freezing 
 to death ! Marian herself had been chilled 
 through and through. She had come into that 
 fold, full of zeal, expecting to be met with sym- 
 pathy, and to be allowed to work for her Mas- 
 ter. She had mistakenly supposed that there 
 would be work to do in that church. But there 
 was actually nothing to do, certainly nothing 
 for the younger members. She had come from
 
 68 TRANSFORMED'. 
 
 a school and a church that were wide awake in 
 missionary work, as well as in other branches 
 of church work ; and she looked for the same 
 thing everywhere. 
 
 "When does your missionary society meet ?" 
 she asked one of the young ladies, soon after 
 her arrival among them. A look of blank 
 amazement was the only reply she received. 
 Missionary society, indeed ! 
 
 " We have no such society," her new friend 
 managed to say at last. 
 
 " Do you meet with the older ladies ? Well, 
 that is pleasant, though some people' think it 
 is better for the girls to meet by themselves. 
 When does the woman's society meet ? the first 
 Wednesday in every month, as it does almost 
 everywhere ? And do you sew and knit, and 
 have tea, or just a devotional meeting?" 
 
 Again that look of astonishment ; indeed, it 
 was utter bewilderment this time. 
 
 " I really do not know what you are talking 
 about ! I never heard of any societies in our 
 church. We sometimes have a mite-society 
 when they want to raise money for lamps, or
 
 TRANSFORMED. 69 
 
 something of that sort ; but I don't know any 
 thing about missionary societies." 
 
 Not quite quenched, Marian suggested that 
 it might be pleasant to organize a mission- 
 band ; but the response to this proposition was 
 disheartening. 
 
 " Oh ! I haven't time to give to any such 
 matter. I am very busy with my German and 
 embroidery ; indeed, I do not get time to make 
 half the calls I ought to make." 
 
 However, there were a few young ladies who 
 did seem interested in the scheme ; but upon 
 consulting the mothers they were informed 
 that it was a very foolish idea, that the church 
 did not believe much in foreign missions, and 
 that it would not be considered proper for the 
 young ladies to set themselves above the older 
 members in such a matter. Mrs. Carlton, the 
 doctor's mother, said to Marian, when she 
 asked if there was really nothing done by the 
 ladies for missions, 
 
 " We have no organization. Sometimes, 
 when we know that the people in Brighton are 
 going to send off a box, those of us who are
 
 70 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 interested make up a package to put in ; and 
 that is about all we do for missions besides the 
 annual collection, the amount of which you can 
 find out for yourself by looking up the report. 
 I never have courage to look. I know it must 
 be small." 
 
 " But why is it that we have no missionary 
 society ? " 
 
 "Because there is not sufficient life among 
 us. I have made two or three efforts to start 
 one, but have failed ; and I should not advise 
 you to undertake it." 
 
 Marian's next chill was received at the 
 weekly prayer-meeting. After the pastor had 
 said, "The meeting is now in your hands, 
 brethren," and two or three of the brethren 
 had improved the opportunity in long prayers 
 and exhortations, this young girl, with a heart 
 full of love for her Master in whose name they 
 had met, expressed her joy at having found 
 this home in the Church of Christ, and asked 
 to be received as one of the workers, and 
 shown what to do. She was immediately con- 
 scious that she had made a mistake ; indeed,
 
 TRANSFORMED. 7 1 
 
 it was hinted at in the remarks and prayers 
 which followed ; and as they left the lecture- 
 room Cora Butler said, 
 
 " Why, Marian Kingsley ! I ought to have 
 told you, but I never dreamed that you would 
 do such a thing." 
 
 " Why, what have I done ? " asked the bewil- 
 dered girl. 
 
 "Nothing, only nobody ever speaks in meet- 
 ing here excepting the old men, and it sounded 
 queer : besides, I don't think they liked it." 
 
 After a few efforts in keeping with her zeal- 
 ous, enthusiastic nature, which were met with 
 the same chilling indifference, or what might 
 almost be called opposition, Marian Kingsley 
 began to realize that the atmosphere was differ- 
 ent from that in which she had spent the last 
 four or five years. It was fortunate for her, 
 as well as for the church of Waltham, that she 
 became interested in the Barneys ; though noth- 
 ing was farther from her thoughts then or ever, 
 than that the fire in her own heart should 
 creep by a circuitous route into the church, 
 and melt the ice of aristocratic complacency.
 
 72 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 Thinking of the chilliness which she had 
 felt, is it any wonder that the girl hesitated 
 over Sam's question? But she answered, 
 
 " Yes, Sam, that is what they do there, 
 worship God in songs of praise, and prayer. 
 But it is a long walk for you. When warm 
 weather comes again, perhaps you can go. 
 But you can learn to read the Bible and pray 
 at home, even if you cannot get to the house 
 of God." 
 
 With a powerful incentive thus before him, 
 Sam's progress in learning to read was some- 
 thing wonderful. Every spare hour was spent 
 poring over a reading-lesson. 
 
 And meantime Barney worked nearly every 
 day. Marian had managed to have him sent 
 for by one and another of the neighboring 
 farmers, for a day's work. 
 
 " You know you will have to do something 
 for the support of the family, and I am sure it is 
 better to do it in a way to help them to a little 
 self-respect than to make beggars of them." 
 
 "But the man won't work," said Mr. Pres- 
 ton, to whom she made her first application.
 
 TRANSFORMED. 73 
 
 "I think he will, if only you authorize me to 
 say that you have work for him." 
 
 Mr. Preston smiled, a doubtful expression 
 upon his face, as he replied, " Well, send him 
 along. I will give him work so long as he 
 keeps sober. But I tell you, Miss Kingsley, 
 you have a bigger job on your hands than you 
 think ! "
 
 74 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 " I will arise, and go to my father." 
 
 BY degrees the home of the Barneys took on 
 a look of something like comfort. It was not 
 a very striking specimen of a pleasant, com- 
 fortable home : still, there was an improvement. 
 Besides the new floor, there were whole panes 
 in place of the broken ones in the windows ; 
 even the third window, which had been boarded 
 up, was found to be not beyond repairing. The 
 door was re-hung; and Marian had contrived a 
 way to have the stove-pipe carried up through 
 the roof instead of out of the window, so that 
 the stove no longer smoked. 
 
 One day, as she was leaving, she appeared 
 with an empty jug in her hand. Barney was 
 talking with Patrick at the sleigh ; and she said, 
 "I thought I would take this jug down, and
 
 TRANSFORMED. 75 
 
 have Patrick get it filled with sirup to-night. 
 The children will like some for their cakes ; and 
 it can just as well be brought up, and save Reg 
 the journey down after it." 
 
 Her assurance almost staggered the man. 
 Why, that was his whiskey-jug! Did she know 
 it ? He could not tell, but he ventured to 
 say, 
 
 " I don't think, Miss Kingsley, that 'ere jug's 
 fit ter put merlasses inter." 
 
 "I know it smells queer," she replied; "but 
 Bridget will scald it, and that will make it all 
 right." 
 
 The man was silent, absolutely awed into 
 silence ! He had meant to go to town himself, 
 after she went away, and have the jug filled 
 with a very different article. As they drove 
 away Patrick said, 
 
 " Why, Miss Marian, do you know you have 
 old Barney's whiskey-jug there?" 
 
 "Have I?" she asked innocently. "Well, 
 sirup will be a very good substitute." 
 
 As for Barney himself, he went in muttering, 
 "Wall, a merlasses-jug is a good thing ter have
 
 76 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 in the house ; " and straightway took himself 
 off to buy a new whiskey-jug. But, as money 
 was scarce, he was unable to buy a jug, and 
 get it filled besides, so he was compelled to be 
 satisfied with a smaller quantity than usual ; 
 and he kept the jug hidden until it was empty. 
 But afterwards, leaving it in sight, Marian ex- 
 claimed, 
 
 - " Now that is nice ! You have a jug for milk. 
 I'll send it right down by the doctor, and when 
 Patrick comes after me he can bring the milk 
 for your suppers." 
 
 And she did. Barney had not a word to say : 
 he was astounded. But he thought within him- 
 self, " What will she put into the next one ? " 
 But he could not be buying jugs all the time ; 
 and he resolved to get hold of that one again, 
 as soon as ever it was empty. 
 
 Barney had one good trait : he would not run 
 into debt, even for liquor; he would drink as 
 long as the money lasted, and then abstain until 
 he was in funds again. And it was about the 
 same way with supplies of food : they had 
 enough until the money gave out, and then
 
 TRANSFORM-ED. 77 
 
 they starved until pension-money was received. 
 Neither did he often take his drinks at a hotel 
 or saloon bar : he was accustomed to get his 
 jug filled, and bring it home, sharing with his 
 wife. Now and then he would go off on a spree, 
 and remain away for a day or two ; but such 
 occasions were comparatively rare. He was 
 too lazy to care much for society ; and his drink- 
 ing was for the most part done at home, so that 
 a whiskey-jug was considered a necessity. But, 
 for reasons best known to himself, Barney de- 
 cided not to invest any more money in whiskey- 
 jugs. 
 
 At length Mrs. Barney was pronounced con- 
 valescent ; and Dr. Carlton said to her, 
 
 " You owe your life to Miss Kingsley. You 
 would certainly have died if she had not come 
 to you." 
 
 And the woman answered, with deep emo- 
 tion, 
 
 " I know it. I owe every thing to her." 
 
 The time came when Marian felt that she 
 could be released somewhat from her watchful 
 care of this family so strangely thrown in her
 
 78 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 way. The Gray party had delayed their in- 
 tended departure, principally on account of 
 some business complications which had unex- 
 pectedly arisen, detaining Mr. Gray, so that 
 about the middle of January they were all to 
 go, Marian with them. 
 
 When Mrs. Barney began to go about the 
 house, there was a tenderer expression upon 
 her face than had ever been seen there before. 
 Even Barney noticed it, and it seemed to have 
 a softening effect upon him ; and when Marian 
 came to say good-by they both wept like chil- 
 dren. 
 
 "What can we do for you? I owe my life to 
 you," said the woman, swaying back and forth 
 upon her rickety chair, and sobbing as if her 
 heart would break. " Yes, and more than my 
 life," she added with sudden emphasis. " What 
 you have told me about God is worth more than 
 this miserable life." 
 
 And Barney himself, shambling from the bed- 
 room where he had gone to hide his emotion, 
 said, 
 
 " Miss Kingsley, we owes every thing ter ye.
 
 TRANSFORMED. 79 
 
 We're good fur nothing anyway, even now ; but 
 we was was when you took us in hand. My old 
 woman here was putty nigh about dropping off 
 this 'ere life ; and, as Dr. Carlton sez, she owes 
 her life ter ye. So it sorter belongs ter ye. 
 And seein' we're one flesh, as the minister said 
 we was, what's done fur one is done fur t'other : 
 so ef ther's any thing we kin do fur ye, to 
 kinder show our gratitood, why, ye must jist 
 say the word, and it's done." And Barney 
 finished this remarkably long speech with an 
 unwontedly energetic movement of his lank 
 figure. 
 
 Then suddenly both husband and wife dropped 
 upon their knees before the astonished girl, and 
 exclaimed in one breath, "Tell us what we can 
 do to show our gratitude ! " 
 
 Then Marian replied, " Friends, there is one 
 thing you can do, which will make me glad, and 
 will benefit you more than all I have done for 
 you." 
 
 "Tell us what it is: we will do any thing!" 
 
 "It is this: Promise me that you will give 
 up, now and forever, whiskey, tobacco, and
 
 80 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 novel-reading, and that you will read this Bible 
 which I am going to leave with you ; and prom- 
 ise me that you will send the children to school 
 and to Sunday school." 
 
 "We will : we will do every thing you ask." 
 
 Then Marian said to Barney, " Your wife has 
 begun to pray. I wish you would begin : it will 
 not be easy to keep the promises you have made 
 here to me, unless you seek help from God." 
 
 Barney replied, " I knows I am a poor weak 
 critter : I've been ashamed sence you begun to 
 come here. We've been living jist like beasts ! 
 I'm bound to turn over a new leaf." 
 
 "And will you kneel down here, and make to 
 God, on your knees, the promises you have 
 made to me ? " 
 
 "Yes, I will!" 
 
 I verily believe that at that moment it would 
 not have been easy for Marian Kingsley to find 
 any thing to ask of that man or his wife that 
 they would not have undertaken to do. And 
 there on the rough floor of the cabin they knelt, 
 the wondering children, following Sam's ex- 
 ample, knelt too, while Marian prayed.
 
 TRA NSFORMED. 8 1 
 
 That prayer came from the depths of a sim- 
 ple, trusting heart. It was an earnest pleading 
 for these outcasts of society, asking that they 
 might have their manhood and womanhood re- 
 stored to them, that they might have strength 
 to carry out their resolutions, and that God 
 would raise up friends for them, that they might 
 not lack for sympathy and encouragement in 
 their efforts to lead a new life. 
 
 Then the woman, who was just learning to 
 pray, took up the petition ; and Marian in her 
 surprise said within herself, " Where did she 
 learn to pray ? " So simple and trusting were 
 her words, so pure her tones, so correct her lan- 
 guage, that Marian could scarcely believe her 
 own senses. So quickly do we learn when 
 taught by the Spirit. 
 
 Then, as they lingered upon their knees, little 
 Nan's voice was lifted up ; and in very childlike 
 words she asked God to make them all good. 
 Kind Mrs. Preston had taught the child a sim- 
 ple prayer, and strangely appropriate it was to 
 this time. 
 
 Still they waited ; and now the husband and
 
 82 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 father for the first time in his life prayed. He 
 said, " God in heaven, I need strength to keep 
 the promises I now make before thee. I do 
 solemnly promise before Heaven to give up 
 strong drink now and forever, and tobacco in 
 every form ; and I promise to read the Bible, 
 and to try to pray, and to live a Christian life : 
 so help me God." 
 
 "Amen!" said Marian fervently. 
 
 Soon they said good-by to their kind friend, 
 but it was with the expectation of seeing her 
 again within three months. How little she or 
 they dreamed of the years that would pass, or 
 of all that would come into their lives, before 
 they saw her again ! 
 
 And now Marian Kingsley went away from 
 Waltham. She had lived there six months 
 only ; and yet she had set in motion forces 
 which would touch many lives, and do much to 
 revolutionize habits of thought and feeling. 
 For years no person had come into their midst 
 so quietly, moved about among them so unobtru- 
 sively, and gone so silently, who had left behind 
 such a far-reaching influence. And yet Marian
 
 TRANSFORMED. 83 
 
 Kingsley never knew all she had done, though 
 in after-times some of the results of that win- 
 ter's work were revealed to her ; yet the years 
 immediately following were so filled with work 
 of much the same sort, that this effort was not 
 to stand out in her memory as any thing re- 
 markable. 
 
 She went away, expecting to return in three 
 or four months ; but, instead of months, it was 
 years before she saw Waltham again. Return- 
 ing from Florida in April, upon reaching New 
 York she left the party, to visit some relatives 
 in that vicinity ; who a little later carried her 
 off to the sea-side for the summer, and then in 
 September to the mountains for a few weeks, 
 "to see them light up with autumn glory," one 
 of the cousins said. 
 
 Meantime it began to be evident that Mr. 
 Gray could not endure the Northern winters ; 
 and, acting upon the advice of his physician, he 
 determined to remove with his family to the 
 Pacific Coast. Of course Marian would' go 
 with them, and she had intended to return to 
 Waltham to assist in the packing ; but a sudden
 
 84 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 illness seizing her, after she returned from the 
 mountains, it was determined that she should 
 not undertake the extra journey, but should join 
 the Grays in New York, on their way to the 
 San-Jacinto Valley.
 
 TRANSFORMED. 85 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 " Pure religion . . . unspotted from the world." 
 
 I HAVE told you that Frederic Gray was much 
 interested in Marian Kingsley, even before the 
 Florida trip ; and, during the weeks that they 
 were so constantly together, his admiration for 
 that young lady was in no wise lessened, though 
 he was obliged to divide his attentions some- 
 what between the two young ladies of the party. 
 
 Cora was an attractive girl, with apparently 
 no great depth of character, one of those 
 pretty girls who drift along upon the waves of 
 society, with no very definite aims in life. Cora 
 expected to marry some time, at least, she 
 presumed she would, but she was in no 
 hurry : she enjoyed life ; society treated her 
 well ; she had plenty of money to go where she 
 liked, and to wear what she pleased. She was
 
 86 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 not capable of a sacrifice, and fortunately never 
 felt called upon to make one. She liked Fred 
 Gray, whom she had known from childhood ; 
 and, being very fond of admiration, she sought 
 to win his attentions only for their own sake. 
 She liked to hold him in her train of admiring 
 friends. 
 
 At this period Fred was quite sure that he 
 was in love with Marian, and he felt equally 
 certain that he would be accepted whenever he 
 chose to offer her his hand. This assurance 
 was not strange. Frederic Gray was not used 
 to being denied any thing ; besides, flattery and 
 petting, added to his native conceit, fostered 
 the impression in his own mind that he was 
 quite irresistible. 
 
 Now, I do not want to give you an unfavor- 
 able opinion of this young man. He was 
 looked upon as quite a model young gentleman. 
 People said he was bound to rise in his profes- 
 sion (that of the law) ; and no doubt he would 
 rise, for he possessed ability somewhat above 
 the average. He was ambitious too, and made 
 everything subservient to the end in view. He
 
 TRANSFORMED. 87 
 
 was a church-member, and I really think he 
 was a Christian even then ; though his standard 
 of Christian attainment was low, and, having 
 reached his standard, he had no thought of 
 going beyond. He always went to church and 
 Sunday school, except when his Saturday-night 
 labors were too wearying, so that he needed the 
 sabbath for rest without worship instead of rest 
 and worship. He was pretty regular at prayer- 
 meeting, though sometimes a lecture or concert 
 detained him. He neither smoked, nor drank 
 wine ; though he kept a few choice cigars on 
 hand for his friends, and, if a point was to be 
 gained, he saw no reason why the crowd should 
 not be responsible for the sort of entertainment 
 which they might choose at his expense. 
 
 Perhaps you can understand why he did not 
 quite satisfy Marian Kingsley, after she came 
 to know him better. At first, as I have said, 
 she was pleased with his attentions, and the 
 Florida trip had charms for her because he was 
 to be of the party ; and you will remember that 
 the thought of being left behind while Cora 
 Butler should be thrown constantly in his soci-
 
 88 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 ety had brought to her the greatest temptation 
 of her life ; and the fact that Fred had been 
 almost angry with her, for adhering to what she 
 considered her duty, had made the trial harder. 
 After all, Providence had interfered ; and, the 
 journey having been delayed, they all set off 
 together. In the weeks that followed, the 
 young people came to know each other better, 
 and often found themselves at variance upon 
 points of Christian practice. 
 
 Unlike Cora, Marian had very decided views 
 upon whatever topic came up for consideration, 
 and conscientious as well as decided. Marian 
 Kingsley never once thought of laying aside her 
 motto when she left home, and found work 
 wherever she went. Those in sorrow and need 
 are everywhere, and she was not long in finding 
 some one who needed her help. 
 
 " Seems to me, Marian," said Fred one day 
 when she had given a helping hand to a poor 
 family, "that you did enough of that sort of 
 thing in Waltham to last at least until you get 
 back there." 
 
 " My text reads, ' Do good as ye have oppor-
 
 TRANSFORMED. 89 
 
 tunity ; ' but I suppose you read it, ' Do good 
 in Waltham.' " 
 
 " I wish you would get off that hobby of 
 yours." 
 
 " Which one ? " she asked, smiling. 
 
 He went on, not heeding her question, "You 
 spoil all your enjoyments with this idea of help- 
 ing every miserable wretch you come across. 
 Of course I wish everybody was comfortable 
 and happy ; but they are not, and I can't revo- 
 lutionize things ; and I do not think it worth 
 while to make myself miserable over the sor- 
 rows of people who are nothing to me. Be- 
 sides, I do not think there is as much real 
 suffering as appears at first glance. People 
 who are used to things do not mind. Now, 
 there's the Barneys. They have lived in the 
 way you found them for years, and they will go 
 back to the old way ; and what will your self- 
 sacrifice amount to?" 
 
 " I do not know ; that part of the subject is 
 not my business. I did the work which was 
 set me to do, as well as I could ; and there my 
 responsibility ends."
 
 90 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 "Of course, Marian, I believe in benevo- 
 lence, and think it well enough to give money 
 to help such people. What I object to" 
 and here his voice took on tljat tender tone 
 which made Marian's pulses beat quicker "is 
 your going into such places. There are women 
 whose business it is to look after the poor, 
 employed by societies. But I cannot bear to 
 think of you in such surroundings. Promise 
 me you will do up your charities by proxy. 
 Will you?" 
 
 " I can't ! Why, Fred, that child I cared for 
 this morning would have died- while I was run- 
 ning around in search of some of those women 
 whose business you say it is to look after such 
 cases." 
 
 Upon this and many other points they never 
 came to an agreement. 
 
 One day Fred came in with the declaration, 
 that "at last there was to be a change in the 
 programme ; the dulness of which they had 
 been complaining was to be broken up." 
 
 "Who has been complaining?" asked Marian. 
 " I am sure Cora and I have not been dull, and
 
 TRANSFORMED. 91 
 
 if you have it is not very complimentary to 
 us." 
 
 Mr. Gray laughed, and begged the young 
 ladies' pardon, and said, 
 
 " However, Miss Marian, you must acknowl- 
 edge that had it not been for our satisfaction 
 in each other's society, we must have found it 
 dull here." 
 
 " I'll not acknowledge any such thing. I 
 could never be dull in this perfect climate. 
 Sunshine and a basket of oranges satisfy me." 
 
 " O you dreadful girl ! Pleasures of the 
 appetite!" exclaimed Cora Butler. "But, Mr. 
 Gray, if you and Miss Kingsley can stop quar- 
 relling long enough for you to tell us what it 
 is that is to break in upon our I mean your 
 dulness, I shall be glad." 
 
 "A party; or rather, a ball. Just think of 
 it, a regular swell affaii ! You young ladies 
 will have an opportunity to display your fine 
 dresses and your graceful dancing." 
 
 " How delightful ! " exclaimed Cora, but 
 Marian was silent. 
 
 " You do not speak, Miss Kingsley. Does
 
 92 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 your pleasure of anticipation take away your 
 power of expression ? " asked Mr. Gray. 
 
 " Not quite," she replied : " it will scarcely 
 make a ripple in the even current of my 
 life." 
 
 " Why, what do you mean ? You'll go, 
 surely ? " 
 
 " Hardly, as I do not dance." 
 
 During the few months of her residence in 
 Waltham, it had so happened that the subject 
 of amusements had not come up. The young 
 people of Waltham danced sometimes, at 
 least, some of them did, but dancing-parties 
 were not common, especially among the people 
 with whom Marian mingled ; in fact, I suppose 
 I may say that on the whole Waltham people 
 did not favor dancing. But the question was 
 now open. 
 
 "Marian Kingsley ! Are you one of that 
 sort ? " exclaimed Cora. 
 
 " What sort ? " asked Marian. 
 
 "Why, the sort who think it wicked to 
 dance." 
 
 "I do not think it right," replied Marian.
 
 TRANSFORMED. 93 
 
 " Why, what harm can there be in stepping 
 about to music ? " said Cora. 
 
 "We are not talking about that. School- 
 children march to music, and go through their 
 gymnastic exercises with the accompaniment 
 of music ; but I supposed you were speaking 
 of the modern social dance." 
 
 " Well, I don't think that is any worse than 
 a great many other things Christians do." 
 
 " Very likely you are right ; but would you 
 * advocate lying because it is no worse than 
 stealing ? " 
 
 "Well, I don't see any harm at all in dan- 
 cing," persisted Cora with a little petulance. 
 
 " Probably not. I suppose you are like most 
 people, you have made up your mind that it 
 is right, because you want it right ; and if you 
 investigate the subject at all, it is a one-sided 
 investigation." 
 
 " But will you tell us why you do not 
 dance ? " 
 
 "Well, in the first place, I have no time to 
 waste in that manner." 
 
 " But do you think time wasted that is spent 
 in recreation ? "
 
 94 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 " Not if the recreation is harmless, healthful, 
 and moderate." 
 
 "And you do not consider that your adjec- 
 tives will apply to dancing ? " 
 
 " Certainly not." 
 
 " I must disagree with you," responded Cora. 
 " Say, Fred, you must help my side : we are in 
 for an argument." 
 
 " On the principle that a gentleman ought 
 to come to the rescue of the weaker party ? " 
 asked Fred. 
 
 " No : I have the best side of the question, 
 of course ; but you ought to help because you 
 belong on this side, and I foresee a hard fight 
 unless you bring your argumentative powers to 
 bear upon the question, and so help me to an 
 easy victory." 
 
 "Go ahead : I'll put in a word as I think you 
 need it. I shall enjoy your discussion," said 
 Fred lazily. 
 
 " Well, Marian, I should like to hear you dis- 
 pose of those adjectives." 
 
 "Very well: I'll begin with 'healthful.' If 
 it were true that the amusement could be con-
 
 TRANSFORMED. 95 
 
 sidered healthful, I think you would hardly be 
 prepared to assert that it is allowable to seek 
 healthful pleasure in a questionable manner. 
 But almost all the accompaniments of modern 
 dancing are unhealthful. If we confine our dis- 
 cussion to parlor dancing, there are the close, 
 heated, and often crowded rooms, the dusty 
 carpets, the air laden with the poisonous ex- 
 halations of the over-heated dancers, mingled 
 with the particles of wool arising from the 
 friction of. the many quick-moving feet ; all to 
 be taken into the lungs with every breath, 
 causing incalculable injury to those delicate 
 organs. Then the movement is forced and 
 violent, the body is over-heated, and the action 
 of the heart unduly excited. You know, Cora, 
 that Jennie Granger gave her life in return for 
 a few hours' pleasure : she went into a cooler 
 room after dancing, and took a cold which 
 caused her death in a few weeks. And one of 
 the girls at school died of heart-disease devel- 
 oped so the physicians said by the violent 
 exercise of the dance. Now, as to the other 
 adjective. If we admit that the amusement is
 
 9S TRANSFORMED. 
 
 not healthful, that disposes of the question of 
 its being harmless ; though perhaps you would 
 apply the word in another sense. An amuse- 
 ment which brings us in close companionship 
 with those whose society we would shun on 
 other occasions can scarcely be said to be 
 harmless." 
 
 "But I thought we were only speaking of 
 private parties." 
 
 "Very well : did you never know of a person 
 for whom you had very little respect, being 
 invited to a private dancing-party just because 
 he was a fine dancer? I know that is often 
 the case. And, besides, the parlor dance is 
 only the stepping-stone to the public hop or 
 ball. You want to confine our argument to 
 parlor dances, while you and Fred are planning 
 for a public entertainment ! It is true, as I 
 said, that home dances lead up to the ballroom. 
 I remember that Louise Bradley argued just as 
 you do in favor of parlor dances, and soon after 
 we left school I read in a paper her name 
 among the belles at a charity-ball in the 
 opera-house. And speaking of the question-
 
 TRANSFORMED. 97 
 
 able character of those who by means of their 
 one accomplishment gain an entrance into some 
 of our first circles, reminds me, that, while 
 young people take to the art so naturally that 
 many learn without teaching, most are like my 
 cousin Fannie. The last time I visited her, 
 she refused an invitation to a dancing-party, 
 saying she would not go again anywhere where 
 there was dancing until she could take lessons 
 of a dancing-master ; and aunt Corry said she 
 did not know of a teacher in the city with 
 whom she would trust her daughter. It seems 
 that the improper associations begin before one 
 is prepared for the enjoyment of even parlor 
 dancing." 
 
 "You are hard on the dancing-masters," 
 laughed Cora. 
 
 " And it is a fact that you would not invite 
 your dancing-master, or many of the pupils, to 
 your own house," said Fred. 
 
 " True ; but I don't invite all the people I 
 meet at a concert or lecture, or even at church, 
 to my own house either." 
 
 " Now, Cora, you know that is nonsense.
 
 98 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 The cases are not parallel. And besides, I 
 suppose if your house were turned into a place 
 for the worship of God, you would open your 
 doors even to the lowest. Associating with 
 people in the way of pleasure and in matters 
 of religion are different, say what you will." 
 
 " Seems to me you are on the wrong side of 
 the question, sir! " 
 
 Fred laughed : " I am on both sides." 
 
 "You will admit that dancing makes people 
 graceful," said Cora, returning to the argu- 
 ment. 
 
 " Suppose I do admit it. Is not a graceful 
 carriage, gained at the expense of health and 
 morals, dear bought ? But there are many 
 people who never dance, who can vie with the 
 dancers in grace of movement. This end can 
 be attained by other means." 
 
 " But, Marian, do you really think there is 
 any harm in the mere act of dancing?" 
 
 Marian laughed outright. " Excuse me," she 
 said, "but I always laugh when any one brings 
 that point out ; and they always do. Now, the 
 act of swallowing is not sinful : but if I swal-
 
 TRANSFORMED. 99 
 
 low a dose of opium I commit sin ; I use a 
 power God has given me, for a wrong purpose. 
 The gymnastic exercises of school-girls, or the 
 dance of the children on the village-green, may 
 not be sinful. But we are not talking about 
 the 'mere act:' we are discussing the dance 
 of modern society, which is very different ; and 
 I insist that parlor dances are the nurseries of 
 the ballroom, and the ballroom is no place for 
 a Christian." 
 
 " But," said Fred, " what are we to do ? 
 Dancing is fashionable, and one appears odd in 
 society unless one engages in the amusement." 
 
 " I suppose it is not absolutely necessary to 
 go to places where not to dance makes one 
 conspicuous. I know that your excuse is often 
 given. I have heard of a Christian man saying, 
 that while he did not approve, still he did not 
 like to have his daughters appear singular. 
 But I would rather be a wall-flower all my 
 life, than go contrary to my conscience in the 
 matter." 
 
 Fred smiled. The idea of Marian Kingsley 
 being a wall-flower in any assembly which she
 
 100 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 might condescend to grace with her presence 
 seemed absurd. But he urged, " Do you not 
 think your ideas are growing obsolete ? Are 
 not Christians coming to look with more favor 
 upon this amusement ? " 
 
 " I think hardly, yet not having lived in ante- 
 diluvian times I cannot be certain. But sup- 
 pose it be true ; because the church is growing 
 in worldliness, would you advocate worldliness 
 in the church ? Indeed, herein is my strong 
 objection to dancing : it savors of worldliness ; 
 and you very well know that when the world 
 creeps into the church, piety dies out. The 
 Christian who tries to serve Christ and the 
 world at the same time is making a compromise 
 which will drag him downward. Living in a 
 quiet country town where we have so little dan- 
 cing that I was not aware that either of you 
 were given to the amusement, we do not see 
 the evils that attend its indulgence ; but at one 
 time after I became a Christian, I was thrown 
 into a circle where I had occasion to study the 
 subject, and settle it once for all. I have been 
 over the ground again and again pretty thor-
 
 TRANSFORMED. IQI 
 
 oughly. And besides considerations of health 
 and associations, and the danger of falling 
 into worldliness, many older and most earnest 
 Christians would be grieved ; and I have no 
 right uselessly to pain them, neither have I any 
 right to antagonize the labors of my pastor, or 
 to place a hinderance in the way of my own 
 success in Christian work. Now, if you will 
 look over the list of your acquaintances, where 
 will you find one devoted to the amusement of 
 dancing, who is an active, earnest worker in 
 the church, or who is even a growing Chris- 
 tian? So far as my observation goes, dancing 
 is a bar to Christian progress. It unfits the 
 mind for serious thought, for meditation and 
 prayer. Think of reading a chapter in the 
 Bible, and kneeling down to pray, in your ball- 
 dress ! Perhaps I should not say as much ; but 
 both of you will recall our conversation last 
 sabbath afternoon, during which you lamented 
 your want of interest in religion." 
 
 "Well, I know I am not much of a Chris- 
 tian," said Cora, "but I do not believe that 
 dancing is to be blamed for it. We are not all
 
 102 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 alike in our tastes : yours run to good works, 
 mine to good times ; and we'll have to go each 
 her own way." 
 
 "It cost me something to give up dancing," 
 said Marian in a quiet tone. Cora looked at 
 her in surprise. Evidently she had not thought 
 that Marian's settled views upon this or any 
 other subject might have been born out of a 
 struggle with inclination and love of the world. 
 
 "Well," she said at length, "for my part, I 
 am not ready to pay the cost." 
 
 "There is another reason why I do not 
 dance," said Marian. " So many of our dances 
 are in themselves of questionable propriety ; 
 and, as you very well know, many are positively 
 improper in the degree of familiarity which 
 they allow. I don't choose to place myself 
 where I may have to submit to the touch of 
 those I would shun outside the ball-room under 
 other circumstances." 
 
 " You are right in that," said Fred. " I con- 
 fess I should not like to see either of you, or, 
 indeed, any lady for whom I have any respect, 
 whirled about in the arms of some of the fel-
 
 TRANSFORMED. 103 
 
 lows over at the hotel. And see here, Miss 
 Cora, I wish you'd promise not to dance any 
 round dances next Wednesday evening." 
 
 " I shall do no such thing ! If I get good 
 partners, I shall dance round dances all the 
 time. I just dote on them. If I had to dance 
 only square dances, I would stay at home." 
 
 Cora Butler could not let the subject alone ; 
 and the arguments were gone over again and 
 again, though she still adhered to her position, 
 and refused to yield an inch of ground. But 
 Fred acknowledged the superiority of Marian's 
 position, and said to her privately that he be- 
 lieved she was right, and that he had made up 
 his mind that as a Christian he would have to 
 give up dancing. However, the morning of the 
 ball he came to her saying, 
 
 " Marian, I meant to stay at home with you 
 to-night, but I have discovered that Cora ex- 
 pects me to act as her escort. I had planned 
 in the first place for her to go with Tom Hast- 
 ings, and I was to take you ; but Tom says she 
 excused herself when he asked her, saying she 
 had promised to go with me."
 
 104 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 Marian could not help a scornful smile. 
 Whatever the subject discussed between them, 
 while Fred would very likely acknowledge that 
 Marian's views were correct, there was invari- 
 ably some reason why he could not adopt them. 
 Sometimes, as in this case, there were social 
 reasons; but oftener business interests were 
 made the excuse. 
 
 He said once, " A man may hold a theory as 
 to the right or wrong of a matter, and not be at 
 liberty to express his convictions on account of 
 his business. It would hardly do for me, a law- 
 yer, to say under all circumstances what I think 
 and believe. If I were an older man, and thor- 
 oughly established in my profession, it would 
 be different." 
 
 " I think, Fred, there is less excuse for you 
 than for any young man I know of." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " 
 
 " You can afford to be out-spoken. You are 
 not dependent upon your profession. Under- 
 stand me, I do not think your course justifiable 
 under any circumstances ; but it is easy for a 
 young man struggling to gain a foothold and
 
 TRANSFORMED. 105 
 
 a livelihood to argue that way. I have never 
 been tried, but I think I would be out-spoken 
 under all circumstances." 
 
 " I think you would," responded the young 
 man with a light laugh. He was well aware 
 that Marian Kingsley spoke her real sentiments 
 without regard to his opinions, and he wanted 
 them to have weight with her. 
 
 " There is such a thing as discretion," said 
 Marian, "and I do not mean that one should 
 express himself in antagonism to others with 
 bluster and bravado : one's cause is never ad- 
 vanced in that way. But I do think that when 
 occasion requires, one should stand by his prin- 
 ciples." 
 
 " Well, I think that a man ought to look out 
 for his business interests. You are fond of 
 quoting from the Bible. ' Diligent in business ' 
 is found there, I believe." 
 
 " ' Let your light shine,' is another injunc- 
 tion," returned Marian. 
 
 "But I do not think we are called upon to 
 flaunt our light in the face of other people's pre- 
 judices," responded Fred. " Now, my partner
 
 106 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 is, as you know, interested in the liquor-busi- 
 ness ; and of course it would not be expedient 
 for me to express myself as devoted to the tem- 
 perance cause, however I may feel about it." 
 
 " I'd get another partner," said Marian with 
 spirit. " Now see here, Fred. Some people 
 are opposed to Christianity ; therefore I must 
 not declare myself a Christian, and express my 
 faith in the Lord Jesus Christ, for it might not 
 be expedient in a worldly sense to run counter 
 to the prejudices of infidels!" And Marian's 
 lip curled slightly in scorn of his sentiments. 
 
 Marian Kingsley admired out-and-out people ; 
 and though he did not suspect it then, for he 
 thought he was giving expression to very manly 
 and dignified views, Frederick Gray was 
 doing much to loosen his hold upon this girl's 
 heart, by the utterance of such sentiments. 
 And especially his position upon the temper- 
 ance question rasped and angered her. Marian 
 was only twenty years old, and yet she had 
 settled questions which many girls never think 
 of at all. There had been one or two dark 
 chapters in her history.
 
 TRANSFORMED. 107 
 
 " You wonder why I hate the liquor-traffic ? " 
 she said one clay. " If you knew what I have 
 lived through because of that curse, you would 
 cease to wonder. I am alone in the world be- 
 cause of the rum-fiend. A drunken coachman 
 caused my father's death. I was only a child, 
 but I can never forget the scene when he was 
 brought home. The shock killed my mother. 
 But, Fred, there is a darker page still. Four 
 years ago my only brother died. His was not 
 a drunkard's death, for he had reformed ; but 
 drinking-habits had undermined his health, and 
 induced tuberculous consumption. He was 
 saved from a drunkard's grave by the very 
 means which you denounced this morning. I 
 do not often open these old wounds ; but when 
 you call me a fanatic, remember that what you 
 name fanaticism is the outgrowth of suffering."
 
 108 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 "Called by a new name." 
 
 IT was not a light thing, that which the Bar- 
 neys had undertaken. It is not easy to throw 
 off habits of years ; it is not easy to rise above 
 a weak, indolent nature, to break the chains of 
 indulgence, to fit one's living into new grooves, 
 to tear down the old idols, and set up the wor- 
 ship of the true God in the heart and in the 
 home : and this was what they had pledged 
 themselves to do. It meant an entire revolu- 
 tion of their manner of life. It meant rising in 
 the morning at a seasonable hour, instead of "a 
 little more slumber;" it meant a decent atten- 
 tion to the duties of the toilet ; and a careful 
 preparation of breakfast, and a thankful partak- 
 ing of it ; to him it meant a regular going-forth 
 to his day's work, and a steady holding-on
 
 TRANSFORMED. 109 
 
 through the day ; to her it meant careful house- 
 wifery, and the training of the children ; to 
 both it meant a life of prayer and study of the 
 Bible. 
 
 That evening, after Marian Kingsley left 
 them, Barney said to his wife, 
 
 " When shall we read the Book she left us ? " 
 
 " In the evening, would be a good time, before 
 the young ones go to bed," said his wife, at the 
 same time bringing the large new Bible from 
 out its wrappings. Barney took it in his hands, 
 the children looking curiously on as he opened 
 it to the first chapter of Genesis, which he read 
 stumblingly, yet with an eager interest. As he 
 closed the book, Nan said shyly, 
 
 "At Mr. Preston's they all kneels down jist 
 like Miss Kingsley did to-day, and he talks 
 to God." And the child dropped upon her 
 knees, evidently expecting the rest to do the 
 same. In her mind, the reading was cemented 
 to the praying. 
 
 Barney looked at his wife. 
 
 " I think it's what she'd like," she said. 
 
 " She " referred always to Miss Kingsley.
 
 1 10 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 And thus, then and there, was a family altar 
 set up. In all the Waltham township, you 
 would unhesitatingly have picked out the Bar- 
 ney household as the cne least likely to estab- 
 lish family worship ; and yet here it was an 
 accomplished fact. Of the language of prayer 
 as usually spoken, the head of the family was 
 ignorant ; but taught by the Spirit he was able 
 to lay their wants before the Lord. The next 
 morning when they gathered around the break- 
 fast-table, again that look at his wife : she 
 nodded, and he said, 
 
 " I'd do it in a minute ef I knowed what ter 
 say : I've heard it lots o' times, but I never paid 
 no 'tention to the words. S'pose I kin say 
 something though." And he did! Perhaps 
 you would have smiled at the phraseology : I 
 think the angels smiled at the fact. And so 
 they began a new life, those two, who had lived 
 so long in sin and degradation. 
 
 The Bible which Miss Kingsley had given 
 them was a large one, such as is called a family 
 Bible. Mrs. Gray had exclaimed over what she 
 considered Marian's folly in giving them such 
 an expensive Bible.
 
 TRANSFORMED. \ \ \ 
 
 "It is well enough," she said, "to give them 
 a Bible, though I doubt if they ever read a 
 word in it ; but a common small one would 
 do exactly as well. You'd better put the dollars 
 you would save into a barrel of flour." 
 
 "I think not, auntie dear. They will be able 
 to buy their own flour, now that Barney works 
 all the time ; and this Bible will be more attrac- 
 tive to the children. I have great hopes of 
 those children." 
 
 The handsome book was attractive ; and one 
 evening in turning its leaves over Nan ex- 
 claimed, 
 
 " See here ! What pretty vines and posies 
 all round the edges ! Say, dad, what is it for ? 
 There ain't nothing printed onter these leaves." 
 
 Looking over the child's shoulder, Barney 
 saw that she had the book open at the pages 
 set apart for the family record ; and he said, 
 " Why, that's where they puts down the birth- 
 days and sich like. I've seen 'em once in court." 
 Turning to his wife: " Yer knows, Moll, when 
 I had ter go onter the witness-stand in that 
 'ar' Clark case ? Thet Bosting lawyer brought
 
 1 1 2 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 Clark's big Bible inter the court to pruv thet 
 Billy was of age. I tell yer, we orter have the 
 names put down here ; I reckon as how I kin 
 write 'em." 
 
 " We hain't got no ink," said Moll. 
 
 " Wall, I reckon ther's ink in Waltham," said 
 Barney with some dignity. The idea of having 
 a family record was already lifting him upon a 
 higher plane : the very fact of becoming pos- 
 sessor of a bottle of ink and a pen would bring 
 him into a new realm. " I'll get a bottle of ink, 
 and bring it hum with me ter-morrer night," he 
 said. 
 
 " And a pen," said his wife. 
 
 " Oh, of course a pen ! What would I do 
 with ink without a pen ? " 
 
 Then they all laughed, the merriest, hearti- 
 est laugh that had ever been heard in that 
 house. 
 
 Then they fell to hunting up the birthdays. 
 Such an evening of reckoning, and such queer 
 methods of calculation ! It was fortunate that 
 Reg's birthday fell on Christmas, and Sam's 
 on the Fourth of July : those facts helped along
 
 TRANSFORMED. \ \ 3 
 
 wonderfully, and gave them quite a start. But 
 the others had to be calculated from the winter 
 the snow piled itself up in great drifts almost 
 covering the little house, or from the time the 
 blackberries were so plenty, or other equally 
 striking circumstances. 
 
 True to his determination, Barney visited the 
 store in the village where stationer's goods 
 were sold, and invested in a bottle of ink. Mr. 
 Bates, the stationer, was surprised at seeing his 
 new customer, and asked in a friendly spirit, 
 
 " Going to send your children to school ? " 
 
 " Wall, I calculate they're going bam-by, but 
 I've got other use for this 'ere. I knows I don't 
 count fur much, but I used to be quite an eddi- 
 cated man. / never had to make my mark. I 
 kin sign papers with the best on 'em." 
 
 "Oh, I suppose so," returned the merchant. 
 " But I thought perhaps you were buying for 
 the children, and I was going to recommend 
 one of our patent inkstands." 
 
 " Wall," said the customer, " I s'pose they'll 
 be wanting 'em soon, and I'll most likely call 
 around;" and gathering up his purchases he 
 hurried home.
 
 114 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 Now, it never occurred to this ignorant man, 
 that his poor scrawling penmanship would be a 
 blemish on the fair pages open before him : on 
 the contrary, to his uneducated eye that column 
 of almost illegible names was the fairest picture 
 he had ever looked upon. What struggles with 
 an almost unmanageable pen it represented ! 
 what wrinkling of brows over the spelling of 
 names and the recollection of dates ! How pa- 
 tiently it was all accomplished ! For was it not 
 to place them on a level with the Clarks, whose 
 family record had been produced in court ? 
 What might not this one prove, some time in 
 the future ? Who could tell what destinies it 
 might determine ? 
 
 It was not accomplished in a single evening, 
 nor in two evenings. Slowly and with difficulty 
 the letters were formed which with persevering 
 effort grew into names, and evening after even- 
 ing saw him bending to the task. 
 
 One night there came to the younger mem- 
 bers of the family a revelation ; indeed, it 
 seemed to Barney himself almost like a new 
 thought. He had written his own name,
 
 TRANSFORMED. \ \ 5 
 
 " Thomas Barnard, born," etc., and so on, until 
 he came to Nan's, which he had written "Annie 
 Louise Barnard ; " when Nan, climbing upon 
 his knees, asked to be told the letters. Slowly 
 she spelled out after her father, "A-n-n-i-e, 
 Annie ; L-o-u-i-s-e, Louise ; B-a-r-n-a-r-d, Bar- 
 ney." 
 
 " No, that is not right : it is Barnard," said 
 the father. 
 
 " But my name's like yourn," said the child. 
 
 "Yes, of course," was the reply. 
 
 " But yourn is Barney." 
 
 Then the man laughed, a coarse, heavy 
 laugh, but it was a good-natured laugh ; and he 
 tossed the child in the air, and said between his 
 " ha, ha's," 
 
 " You are a little goose, to pretend you dunno 
 your own name ! " 
 
 " I do know my name, so there ! " said the 
 child, almost inclined to cry. "My name is 
 Annie Louise Barney." 
 
 " No, no ! Your name is Barnard, not Bar- 
 ney." 
 
 The children gathered around with wide-open
 
 Il6 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 eyes. Even Reg was no wiser than little Nan. 
 Why should he be ? He had never heard his 
 father called by any other name than Barney, 
 and he never knew that it was not really their 
 name. They never received any letters : I 
 doubt if the postmaster of Waltham would have 
 known where they belonged if ever any had 
 come for Thomas Barnard. At last Reg said, 
 
 " Well, I'm glad ! I like that name better ; 
 somehow it's a name that yer feels like making 
 suthin' outen." 
 
 "Ya-as," drawled his father, "it's a good 
 name. I've hearn say as how there' ve been 
 Barnards as was somebodies. But laws ! thet 
 doant make us 'uns any better off, as I knows 
 on." 
 
 But some way it struck the boy Reg, that the 
 new name was worth more ; and then and there 
 his resolve was taken, to make it once more a 
 respectable name. Not that he, even in his 
 mind, shaped the thought ; but it was there, 
 with a resolve born of it. As for Nan, she 
 swayed herself backwards and forwards after a 
 habit of hers, and sang softly to herself, to an
 
 TRANSFORMED. 1 1 7 
 
 improvised tune, " My name is Annie Louise 
 Barnard," repeating the words again and again. 
 Presently Reg asked, 
 
 " Dad, do the people hereabouts know that 
 our real name is not Barney ? " 
 
 " I dunno ; never thought on't. S'pose likely 
 they doant. They knows over ter Brighton, ter 
 the pension-office. Yer see how 'twas : I 
 worked a considerable of a spell fur Square 
 Clark, and he called me Barney for short ; and 
 thet's how it begun. Thet was when I fust 
 moved here, and I 'spect folks never heerd my 
 right name." 
 
 " They'll be likely to hear on't though," said 
 Reg. 
 
 By the time the last name was reached, they 
 had all grown familiar with their true cogno- 
 men ; and, with familiarity, the resolution to 
 drop forever the nickname which had clung to 
 them so long grew and was strengthened. 
 
 But over that last name there was a contro- 
 versy. The mother insisted that it should not 
 be written Jehu. "Nobody but yersel' ever 
 call him so," she said. " Yer doant want yer-
 
 1 1 8 TRA NS FORMED. 
 
 sel* called Jehu, do yer ? " she added, address- 
 ing the child ; who, seeming to understand, 
 stamped his chubby foot, and exclaimed in 
 baby tones, 
 
 " I not Jehu ! I'se Huey ! " and amid the din 
 which arose, the scribe dropped the pen, and 
 left the record incomplete ; and thus it remained 
 for many months. 
 
 Meantime a sabbath had come into their 
 lives. They had not thought of going to church, 
 but as its hours wore away they began to talk 
 about it. They said, 
 
 "We ought to go to church. Miss Kingsley 
 went : I think she would like it. We will go 
 next Sunday." And they went. 
 
 It was a sensation in Waltham church, when 
 the " Barneys " appeared. There was the father 
 and mother, Reg, Johnnie, and Nan. The walk 
 was rather too long for the lame boy, though in 
 pleasant weather he might be able to go. I 
 think, if the Prince of Wales and his family had 
 appeared in their midst, without any warning 
 of their coming, the people could not have been 
 more astonished. However, they were equal to 
 the 6ccasion.
 
 TRANSFORMED. \ 19 
 
 The sexton seated the new-comers in an in- 
 conspicuous pew, suggesting to the boy Reg 
 that he ought to take off his hat before entering 
 the church, a hint which the father took to 
 himself. As the children had never been to 
 church, and the parents not for years, it would 
 not have been strange if they had shown some 
 ignorance of church etiquette ; but they man- 
 aged to get through the service without any 
 very glaring mistakes. They Bat when the 
 others did, and rose when the others did, and 
 bowed in prayer with the congregation. Bar- 
 ney even dropped a few pennies into the con- 
 tribution-box, first whispering to his wife, 
 
 " How much do they pay ? " And she whis- 
 pered back, 
 
 "I don't know." 
 
 And he put in whatever he had in his pocket, 
 thinking, " If he says it is not enough, we can 
 go out." 
 
 Now, if you suppose the regular attendants 
 upon divine service in that place gathered 
 around the strangers at the close of the morn- 
 ing service, and welcomed them, and invited
 
 120 TRANSFORMED, 
 
 them into Sunday school, or asked them to come 
 again, you are mistaken. Some whispered, 
 " Who are they ? " loud enough to be heard by 
 the strangers ; but that was all the attention 
 they received. The pastor must not be cen- 
 sured ; for he was absent for a sabbath by ex- 
 change, else the family would never have been 
 so coldly received in the house of God. How- 
 ever, as they had never been accustomed to any 
 other sort of treatment until Marian Kingsley 
 took them by the hand, and gave them Chris- 
 tian sympathy, they did not feel the neglect of 
 Christian courtesy as they might otherwise 
 have done. Yet they did feel it ; and when the 
 next sabbath came around they said, 
 
 "We'll stay at home to-day, and read our 
 good Book to the children." 
 
 The mother said, " I wish we had a singing- 
 book. I believe we could sing ; and that would 
 make it seem almost like going to church, 
 wouldn't it?" 
 
 Again and again Reg and the two younger 
 ones rehearsed the story of their church expe- 
 rience, for the benefit of Sam and Estelle ; and
 
 TRANSFORMED. 121 
 
 Sam would say, with a longing in his heart, 
 " I wish I could go ! " 
 
 After a sabbath or two at home, they tried 
 the experiment again. And then again they 
 went, receiving little attention, until one sab- 
 bath the usher was astonished at being ad- 
 dressed in this manner: 
 
 "We're coming every Sunday now; and I 
 s'pose folks as comes reg'lar has a reg'lar place 
 to set, doant they?" 
 
 " Yes, if they pay for it," was the curt reply. 
 
 " Pays for it ! how much ? " 
 
 "That depends upon where you sit. Some 
 folks ' are particular, and pay a pretty large 
 figure." 
 
 " What is this ? " asked Mr. Graves, coming 
 up just then. 
 
 " Nothing, only this man thinks he wants 
 to rent a pew," said the usher with a little 
 sneer. 
 
 " Ah ! that is it. We rent our pews the first 
 of September ; but come this way, and I will 
 show you a seat you can occupy until that time, 
 when you can choose for yourself."
 
 122 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 " He choose ! " sneered the usher ; adding, 
 loud enough for Reg to hear, " beggars mustn't 
 be choosers." 
 
 The seat which Mr. Graves pointed out was 
 a back seat ; but the family were grateful and 
 satisfied, for it was done with kind courtesy, 
 and they occupied the pew frequently until the 
 time of the annual rental came around.
 
 TRANSFORMED. 123 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 " And plant gardens, and eat the fruit of them." 
 
 THE district school to which the children of 
 this reconstructed family belonged was a mile 
 from their home, a long walk for the lame 
 boy; but, notwithstanding his lameness, he made 
 one of a strange-looking group that was early 
 at the schoolhouse at the opening of the spring 
 term. 
 
 The group was composed of four poorly 
 dressed and, to a stranger, uninteresting chil- 
 dren. Evidently no fashionable barber had had 
 the trimming of those tow-colored locks of the 
 boys ; while Nan's hair, instead of being tied 
 loosely, and left to flow over her shoulders, 
 after the fashion of the day, was drawn tightly 
 back from her freckled face, and braided in one 
 close braid, and tied at the end with a piece of 
 twine.
 
 124 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 They had huddled together in one corner of 
 the room, and no one spoke to them, though 
 they attracted more notice than they desired. 
 Some one whispered, 
 
 "Why, they are the Barney children, as true 
 as I live ! What are they doing here ? " 
 
 "They are dressed up. Just look at that 
 girl's hair!" 
 
 " Say ! I believe they stole those clothes out 
 of the old ark," another said. " I always 
 thought old Barney was an antediluvian. May- 
 be, now, he is old Noah himself! " 
 
 Though the group did not hear all these 
 unkind remarks designed to be witty, but, as 
 usual under such circumstances, failing in that, 
 they felt uncomfortable, and Reg was half a 
 mind to give it all up and go home ; but Sam 
 said, 
 
 " It wouldn't do any good : dad would send 
 us back. You know they promised her /" 
 
 Presently the teacher came, and the school 
 was speedily organized. She was a new teacher, 
 and a stranger. In the course of taking the 
 names, she came to Nan first of the stranger 
 group.
 
 TRA NS FOR MED. 1 2 5 
 
 " What is your name ? " she asked with a 
 smile that drove away Nan's timidity. 
 
 " Annie Louise Barnard," she said in a low 
 tone. 
 
 The teacher repeated the name as she wrote 
 it down, "Annie Louise Barnard." 
 
 "That ain't right!" exclaimed a boy who 
 sat near. " Teacher, you made a mistake : she 
 said Barney." 
 
 " No more I didn't ! " said Nan. " I said 
 Barnard." 
 
 " Your name ain't Barnard : it's Barney." 
 
 "'Tain't ! It's Barnard ! " persisted Nan. 
 
 The teacher was perplexed. Then she 
 asked, 
 
 " Are any of these your brothers ? " 
 
 "All on 'em," said Nan; "and their names 
 is Barnard too, jist like mine. And my dad's 
 name is Barnard too." 
 
 " What is your real name ? " asked the 
 teacher, addressing Reg. 
 
 "My name is Reginald Barnard. She dun 
 told yer right." 
 
 " My ! putting on airs ! " said the boy who 
 had before spoken.
 
 126 TRANSFORMED, 
 
 " Folks does call my dad Barney," said Reg, 
 "but 'tain't right." 
 
 " It's writ down in the big Bible," said Nan, 
 growing bold ; " and I spelled it out, and it's 
 Barnard. That boy knows nothin' about it. 
 I guess my dad knows as what his name is." 
 
 " I don't believe it ! It's all a piece of make- 
 believe ! Their name is Barney, but they are 
 just trying to be somebody." 
 
 These murmurs of disapproval of the name 
 " Barnard " were heard in different parts of the 
 room, and the teacher turned sharply around. 
 " I shall write down the names they give me, 
 and you will not call them by any other until 
 it is shown that they have no right to the one 
 they claim." 
 
 And presently they stood recorded on the 
 teacher's book in District No. 5 : 
 
 "Reginald Barnard, 
 
 "Samuel Barnard, 
 
 "John Barnard, 
 
 "Annie Louise Barnard." 
 
 "Those are good names," said the teacher 
 kindly, "and I hope you will do them credit."
 
 TRANSFORMED. 127 
 
 "That's what dad says," responded Reg. 
 
 <; Don't you think it would sound better to 
 sny ' father ' instead of ' dad ' ? " asked the 
 teacher, bending down and speaking low to 
 Reg, who replied, 
 
 " I dunno : I will if you say so." 
 
 "Thank you." 
 
 And now their school life had fairly begun. 
 True, their ignorance was deplorable, not only 
 of books, but of manners and morals. In their 
 brief intercourse with Marian Kingsley they 
 had learned much, but they were still in the 
 depths of ignorance. Nan had caught some 
 new tricks of speech during her stay at Mr. 
 Preston's, but had fallen back into the old hab- 
 its as soon as they were all at home again. It 
 would take long years of patient endeavor to 
 eradicate those early habits, and before there 
 could be a beginning there must be some sense 
 of need of improvement. 
 
 Reg and Sam were old enough to understand 
 that they were unlike the other scholars in ap- 
 pearance, and far behind them in scholarship ; 
 but these two had powerful motives to urge
 
 128 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 them on. Reg had an ambition to make, as he 
 had said, something out of the family name. 
 How, or what, was an undefined idea ; but one 
 thing was clear to his mind, he would not be 
 called " Old Barney." Of rising to distinction 
 in any particular line, he had no thought. He 
 only knew that somehow there was a difference 
 between themselves and certain other people 
 whom he knew, and he was bound to make that 
 difference less ; and he had in some manner 
 come to the conclusion that getting a knowl- 
 edge of books would help him to accomplish 
 what he desired. As for Sam, he too had an 
 ambition ; but it was not to make the family 
 name great, but to make himself worthy to be 
 called by another name, even the name of 
 "servant of Christ." To be able to read the 
 words of his Master, and to understand them 
 so as to be ready for service, this was Sam's 
 highest aim ; for this he studied ; for this he 
 toiled painfully over the long stretch of rough 
 road that lay between the little hovel and the 
 schoolhouse. 
 
 Miss Brown was a conscientious teacher, in
 
 TRANSFORMED. 129 
 
 a sense ; desirous of having her pupils improve, 
 though she never thought of pointing them to 
 Christ. That, in her estimation, was the busi- 
 ness of a Sunday-school teacher, not of a day- 
 school instructor. So, while she sympathized 
 with Reg's evident desire to become a scholar, 
 and was gratified at his progress, giving to him 
 the same earnest endeavor that she gave to" the 
 children of the wealthiest, she never sought to 
 inspire in him a higher ambition. And while 
 Sam was seeking after knowledge, that he 
 might know Him better who is the source of 
 all knowledge, Reg sought for the wisdom of 
 the world, that he might advance to higher 
 places here. 
 
 " Father," said Tom Dexter, the boy who 
 had been so forward in disputing Nan, "the 
 teacher says we've got to call those Barney 
 children ' Barnard.' Do you suppose that is 
 their name ? " 
 
 " Why, no : I never heard them called by 
 that name, and should not have guessed that 
 it was any thing but Barney. Still, it may be 
 Barnard, for aught I know."
 
 130 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 "And you think we ought to be made to call 
 them Barnard, when they have always been 
 called Barney ? " 
 
 "I don't see any objections to it. They cer- 
 tainly ought to know their own name better 
 than you." 
 
 " That little Nan began it ; and I think she 
 made a mistake, and that the rest of them just 
 stuck to it for mischief." 
 
 " Tom, that is not right. If they say their 
 name is Barnard, you must call them so until 
 it is proved that they have no right to the 
 name." 
 
 "That is what Miss Brown said," remarked 
 Lou Dexter. 
 
 "And Miss Brown is right. Barnard let it 
 be." 
 
 As Tom Dexter was quite a leader among 
 the boys in No. 5, that question was settled. 
 And it soon became usual to hear the school- 
 children call out "Annie Barnard," or "Sam 
 Barnard ; " and very soon the people of the 
 neighborhood fell into the habit of using the 
 real name instead of the nickname. And thus
 
 TRANSFORMED. 1 3 1 
 
 Miss Brown's decided command upon that first 
 day of school was helping along the work of 
 transforming the Barneys into Barnards and 
 respectability. 
 
 Weeks went by, and from the lowest classes 
 Reg and Sam were steadily rising to the higher. 
 And, while they studied hard, they found time 
 for some other things. Their father was now 
 at work every day ; and upon the boys devolved 
 many little duties which had heretofore been 
 left undone, or, if they could not be wholly neg- 
 lected, done in a shiftless sort of a way. The 
 swamp lying around their home was well wooded, 
 and they had secured from the owners the privi- 
 lege of getting their wood from the decaying 
 fallen timber. This had been procured only as 
 the necessities of the hour demanded. But it 
 occurred to Reg, that a wood-pile at the door 
 seasoning for use would be a good thing ; and, 
 twelve-year-old boy as he was, with a little as- 
 sistance from his father he had succeeded in 
 getting quite a quantity of fuel prepared for 
 use. 
 
 The house stood in a little clearing sum-
 
 132 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 ciently large for a garden, but this had been 
 suffered to lie waste for want of energy to plant 
 it. But that spring Barney or Mr. Barnard as 
 we must learn to call him said to his wife, 
 
 " I don't know, Molly, but we might manage 
 a bit of a garden. I could get Dexter to plough 
 it, and I can plant it if the boys could help 
 about the weeding. If I work for Dexter, I 
 shall be kept pretty busy there." And the 
 boys, delighted with the idea of a garden, 
 promised to keep it free from weeds. 
 
 How they delighted in that garden ! From 
 the hour when Mr. Dexter came with his strong 
 horses, and turned up the rich mould with the 
 shining point of the plough, all through the 
 consultations as to what should be planted, 
 the interest increased. 
 
 " We used to have a kind of bean they called 
 kidney-bean, down in Poppleton," said Mrs. 
 Barnard. "I wish we could get some to plant." 
 
 " I'll ask Dexter about some," replied her 
 husband. " Mrs. Dexter told me she had some 
 garden-seeds to spare, and I'll bring them along 
 to-night."
 
 TRANSFORMED. \ 3 3 
 
 " I saw some red posies running up before 
 Mrs. Dexter's window last summer," said Nan. 
 " Couldn't we have some ? They'd look awful 
 pretty running up before the bedroom window." 
 
 Mrs. Dexter had a package of seeds ready 
 for Mr. Barnard, and a smaller package which 
 she said was flower-seeds for the children. 
 
 " Give them a little corner," she suggested. 
 " It will encourage them, and they will work all 
 the better. I have noticed your little Nan look- 
 ing through the pickets at my flowers, and 
 maybe she will like some of her own." 
 
 And thus it came about, that the summer 
 was a busy one. The boys, unused to garden- 
 ing, made some blunders, but on the whole they 
 succeeded admirably ; and Reg was proud of 
 his early radishes and beets and his green pease 
 for the Fourth-of-July dinner. And Nan de- 
 lighted in the bunches of flowers which she 
 was able to carry to Miss Brown now and then. 
 
 The partial clearings in the swamp abounded 
 in blackberries ; and, when the berry-season ar- 
 rived, there was talk of the children staying 
 from school to gather the berry-harvest. It
 
 134 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 had been their custom to pick berries to sell in 
 the village ; and Reg said, " There are so many 
 this year, that I believe we could earn a cow ! " 
 A cow was now the height of their aspirations, 
 so far as worldly possessions went. 
 
 But Sam had a scheme. On his way to and 
 from school, he had stopped to watch Mrs. 
 Dexter at work in her strawberry-patch. One 
 day Mrs. Dexter, seeing his interest, re- 
 marked, 
 
 " You might have a strawberry -patch just as 
 well as not. That sandy knoll just back of 
 your house would be a good place for berries. 
 I'll give you the plants if you want to set them 
 out." 
 
 Then Sam questioned as to time and methods 
 of cultivation, until he knew it all by heart. 
 
 " I find market for all of mine in the village," 
 said Mrs. Dexter ; " and I presume you could 
 sell all you could raise. They could go right 
 in with ours at first." 
 
 And, thus encouraged, Sam grew wild to try 
 the experiment. The knoll was of no use to 
 any one. The owner of the place charged only
 
 TRANSFORMED. 1 3 5 
 
 a nominal rent for the wretched hovel and the 
 little clearing around it. The place had for- 
 merly been occupied by the sawyer at the mill 
 half a mile farther on, but afterwards a better 
 house had been erected nearer the mill. 
 
 It required some little persuasion on Sam's 
 part to make his father see his scheme in the 
 light in which it appeared to the two boys ; but 
 he finally said it wouldn't cost nothing more'n 
 their own work, and they could go into it if 
 they wanted to. It required some little ma- 
 noeuvring on Sam's part to get the ground 
 properly prepared for the setting of the plants, 
 and I am inclined to think that Mrs. Dexter 
 had something to do with it. Anyway, it was 
 Mr. Dexter's strong horses which Mr. Barnard 
 drove home one evening an hour before work- 
 ing-hours were over, at Mr. Dexter's own sug- 
 gestion. 
 
 " You might as well go now, and plough that 
 bit of ground for the boys," he said : " there's 
 no telling what may come of it." 
 
 Mr. Dexter remembered that remark after- 
 wards ; and it stirred him to other kindly
 
 136 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 deeds, "not knowing what might come of 
 them." 
 
 It was only a little bit of ground, and a few 
 tiny plants stuck into the pulverized soil at reg- 
 ular intervals ; and yet it represented to the 
 boys* Reg and Sam* the coveted cow.
 
 TRANSFORMED. j j 7 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 " Ask counsel of God." 
 
 IN their daily Bible-readings they read much 
 that was a mystery to them, but now and then 
 they came upon passages which stood out with 
 wonderful clearness. One evening Barney read 
 slowly and with difficulty, for he was at best 
 but a poor reader, "And of all that Thou 
 shalt give me, I will surely give the tenth unto 
 thee." 
 
 " One-tenth unto thee \ " he repeated, 
 *' that is, unto the Lord. But what does it 
 mean ? Molly, what do you suppose it means ? " 
 
 "I'm sure I do not know, unless Why, 
 Thomas, when you husk corn or dig potatoes 
 for Dexter, you get one bushel out of every 
 ten, don't ye ? And I s'pose that's what it 
 means."
 
 1 38 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 "Yes, but giving it to the Lord, what's 
 that ? The Lord ain't here. How be we going 
 to give it to him ? That's what I want to 
 know." 
 
 For days they studied over this simple ques- 
 tion in Christian ethics. "One-tenth," that 
 they understood ; but what to do with it ? Un- 
 derstanding, they meant to follow the example 
 set by one of old, just as soon as they found 
 out how it was to be done. 
 
 There came a sabbath when the pastor chose 
 for his text the passage, " Bring ye all the 
 tithes into the storehouse." 
 
 Nothing could have been farther from the 
 thought of Mr. Manning than the idea of bene- 
 fiting the Barneys by that sermon. He had 
 preached to them sabbath after sabbath, shoot- 
 ing as wide of the mark sometimes as it was 
 possible to do ; but that particular sermon had 
 been studied with a view to reaching certain 
 members of the Waltham church who were 
 somewhat niggardly in their gifts. But He 
 who is responsible for the results of all sincere 
 effort put forth in his name, had other thoughts
 
 TRA NSFORMED. \ 39 
 
 of that sermon. Whatever may have been the 
 effect upon those for whom it was designed, it 
 certainly enlightened two ignorant people. 
 Thomas Barnard and his wife learned what giv- 
 ing to the Lord meant ; they found out that for 
 them it meant giving of their earnings for the 
 support of the gospel, that it meant contributing 
 for home and foreign missions ; and although 
 the pastor did not lay any stress upon setting 
 aside one-tenth of the income, they had already 
 decided that this was the right thing for them 
 to do, and they did not notice the omission. 
 Indeed, so simple were they, that they supposed 
 that every Christian did that ; and their only 
 puzzle had been, what to do with it after it was 
 laid aside. Indeed, they had already begun to 
 lay away the small silver coins. 
 
 It would have been amusing to hear the cal- 
 culations that went on beneath that lowly roof. 
 I do not believe that there was ever such a 
 novel class in fractions elsewhere, as that one 
 made up of father, mother, and the two older 
 boys. How they puzzled over the fractional 
 parts of small sums ! One-tenth of a dollar
 
 140 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 they could easily get at, but one-tenth of sixty, 
 three cents was a problem almost beyond their 
 solving. It was no satin-lined box or inlaid 
 casket which held the precious five and ten cent 
 pieces : they had not thought of any thing 
 better than just to tie them up in a rag, and 
 hide them in the straw mattress. 
 
 Thomas Barnard had few cronies, but some- 
 times in the summer he would go off for a day's 
 fishing in the lake a few miles distant ; and 
 these excursions had always been taken on the 
 sabbath, because the neighbor whom he accom- 
 panied worked with his team on week-days. As 
 the summer wore on, this neighbor hailed him 
 one Friday evening, as he went home from his 
 work, with, 
 
 " Say, Barney ! If it's fine Sunday, suppose 
 we take the day at the lake." 
 
 " All right." 
 
 " Do you mean it ? " said neighbor Filkins 
 with a little surprise in his tones. 
 
 " Mean it ! Yes ; why not ? " 
 
 "Oh, I didn't know but you had got too pious 
 for that ! You've been going to meeting so
 
 TRANSFORMED. 141 
 
 much lately, and one of my young ones says 
 you have prayers at your house now : with so 
 much Bible-reading I didn't know but you'd cut 
 an old crony." 
 
 " I guess not : I haven't found any thing in 
 the Bible about going to the lake with an old 
 friend." 
 
 "But on Sunday?" 
 
 " I guess not." 
 
 " Not ? " said Filkins. "Why, I thought the 
 Good Book was very strong on that point ! 
 But you ought to know. Well, if it's clear I'll 
 be along early." 
 
 "All right." 
 
 "Well, now, that's queer," mused Filkins as 
 his friend walked away. " I did think the fel- 
 low had got religion ; but after all, I don't see 
 as he is any better than the rest of us. Noth- 
 ing in his Bible against going fishing on Sunday, 
 ha, ha! My old woman, wouldn't agree with 
 him : she says it is an awful sin. Guess Bar- 
 ney has a different Bible from the rest of the 
 world." 
 
 As for Thomas Barnard, he asked his wife,
 
 142 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 the first thing when he reached home, if the 
 Bible said any thing about going to the lake on 
 Sunday, and if she thought there would be any 
 harm in going. 
 
 " You see, we fellows work hard all the week, 
 and Sunday is the only time we have. The 
 Book speaks of Sunday as a day of rest, not 
 doing any work ; and that is what we are going 
 for, to kinder rest up, and have a bit of 
 pleasure." 
 
 Molly shook her head. " I dunno," she said. 
 " As you say, it is about work ; but I dunno, I 
 am afeard it ain't right. I think I'd stay to 
 hum until I found out about it for sure." 
 
 The next sabbath proved unfair, and the ex- 
 cursion was postponed another week. Mean- 
 time Molly searched diligently for light upon 
 the important question. They had read far 
 enough to find out that the sabbath was ap- 
 pointed for a day of rest from worldly pursuits ; 
 but they could not quite see how that would 
 forbid a ride of half a dozen miles with a friend, 
 a sail upon the lake, and a little fishing for 
 pleasure. Though Molly said,
 
 TRANSFORMED. 143 
 
 "You know, Thomas, you always say that 
 you are more tired than as if you had been 
 ploughing greensward. That don't sound much 
 as if you made it a day of rest." 
 
 "That's a fact," returned the perplexed man. 
 
 However, as the week drew near the end, 
 Molly poring over the Bible suddenly ex- 
 claimed, 
 
 "Here it is, the verse that fits! I knew 
 there must be one." And she read out, 
 
 " ' If thou turn away thy foot from the sab- 
 bath, from doing thy pleasure on my holy day ; 
 and call the sabbath a delight, the holy of the 
 Lord, honorable ; and shalt honor him, not 
 doing thine own ways, nor finding thine own 
 pleasure, nor speaking thine own words ; 
 
 "'Then shalt thou delight thyself in the 
 Lord , and I will cause thee to ride upon the 
 high places of the earth, and feed thee with 
 the heritage of Jacob thy father : for the mouth 
 of the Lord hath spoken it.' 
 
 " There ! and there is a promise hitched on 
 to it besides. I guess that settles it." 
 
 And when her husband came in, she showed
 
 144 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 him what she had found : " Listen : it says, ' not 
 doing thine own ways, nor finding thine own 
 pleasure, nor speaking thine own words.' I 
 reckon, if you went to the lake with Filkins, 
 you'd speak a good many of your own words ; 
 and some of the pleasure he'd be looking out 
 for wouldn't be the sort for any day, let alone 
 Sunday." 
 
 " Thet's so. But, Molly, I don't see how I 
 am going to get out of it : I've as good as 
 promised, you know." 
 
 "But you can tell him we've found out it 
 is forbidden, and that ought to be enough. If 
 you's going to do suthin' contrary to the law, 
 and then you'd 'a' found out 'twas, after you'd 
 planned it, it would be enough to say you'd 
 found out so. And if you have jist found that 
 going fishing on Sunday is contrary to the law 
 of God, why, 'tain't too late to back down. 
 Filkins has got sense." 
 
 " Well, I s'pose the best way will be to go 
 over there, and tell him I can't go." And 
 Thomas Barnard seized his hat, and went over 
 to break his engagement.
 
 TRANSFORMED. 145 
 
 " You see," he said, " Molly has been hunting 
 up the law on this 'ere question, and she's found 
 out that if a man goes in to serve the Lord 
 he hain't no call to break the sabbath for his 
 own pleasure : so, neighbor, I hope there won't 
 be no hard feelings if I don't go with you." 
 
 " There ! " said Mrs. Filkins. " I am power- 
 ful glad you've said that. I have been argying 
 with John ; but he said you was a Bible man 
 nowadays, and you didn't see no harm in it, 
 and I felt e'en a'most discouraged. But what 
 you've said gives me courage agin to go on 
 argying." 
 
 " Well," said Mr. Filkins, " I don't see any 
 difference between some of them church-mem- 
 bers down there in the village taking walks and 
 rides on Sunday afternoon, and me a-going off 
 for a little drive and a bit of a sail." 
 
 "Now, John," replied his wife, "the Lord 
 never told you that you was to follow any 
 church-member. He said, 'Follow me.' He 
 did tell his disciples to let their light shine so 
 that men may see ; but if they don't do it, why, 
 there's a bigger light than all the church-mem-
 
 146 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 bers put together can make, and you and I can 
 walk by that." 
 
 " Well, if Barney here won't go, I shall give 
 it up. Maybe I'll hitch up the team, and take 
 you and the children to church : I want to be 
 as good as my neighbors ! " 
 
 The question of sabbath recreations was not 
 the only puzzling one that came up for decision 
 during those first few months of Christian ser- 
 vice. For years Thomas Barnard had never 
 failed to make one of the crowd gathering in- 
 side the great tent pitched outside the village 
 upon the annual visit of the circus ; and often 
 the whole family went, and great was the dis- 
 appointment if any thing happened to prevent 
 their going. It was the one holiday of the year, 
 and planned for long beforehand. Though their 
 food might be more scanty than usual for weeks, 
 they must save money enough for their en- 
 trance-tickets ; even the quantity of whiskey 
 was sometimes lessened for the same purpose : 
 so you see how important a matter it had been 
 to the Barneys. 
 
 The time had again come around ; and, as
 
 TRANSFORMED. 147 
 
 usual, the flaming show-bills with their vulgar 
 representations often indecent as well as low 
 and vulgar were posted in every available 
 public place. Reg came home one night with 
 the joyful news that the bills were up, and the 
 show was to be along on the twenty-fifth. 
 
 " We can all go, can't we ? " he said. 
 
 Mr. Barnard looked at his wife : she seemed 
 puzzled. 
 
 "I don't know," she said, "as we ought: I 
 never saw church-folks there much." 
 
 " I have seen the Prestons and the Parkers 
 there times and times," said her husband; "and 
 once I saw the minister from Bannersville. 
 But do you think she would go?" 
 
 "I don't know: it kinder seems as if she 
 would be out of place there, among the sort 
 of folks that goes mostly ; and I don't believe 
 she would like to let her pretty eyes rest upon 
 some of them women and clowns that per- 
 forms." 
 
 " She'd let her eyes, and her hands too, rest 
 on them quick enough if she could help them 
 any," returned Thomas. " They ain't any
 
 148 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 worse than we were when she stepped her 
 dainty feet into this old shanty." 
 
 " Some way I don't care much about going," 
 said Molly; "but if it is right, and you and the 
 boys want to go, why, you can go, and take 
 them. I'll keep Huey and the girls at home. 
 I don't just want my little girls to go into any 
 place that wouldn't be clean and pure enough 
 for Miss Kingsley." 
 
 " I don't s'pose there's any thing in the Bible 
 about circuses, is there ?" said her husband. 
 
 " I don't s'pose there is. Still there ought 
 to be something to tell us what to do." 
 
 " I found a verse to-day that tells what to do 
 when one does not know," said Molly, going 
 after the Bible. " Here it is : ' If any man lack 
 wisdom, let him ask of God.' But I can't help 
 wondering how he will tell us unless we find it 
 written down here." 
 
 "We know a good many things that we 
 didn't use to know, and I guess he can teach 
 us what we need to know about going to the 
 circus." 
 
 As the days went on, there was very little
 
 TRANSFORMED. 149 
 
 talk about the matter ; only Thomas never for- 
 got to ask for wisdom, and Molly continued her 
 search for a verse that would fit. She had al- 
 ready decided not to go : Sam was the next one 
 to say, 
 
 " I don't want to go. I do not think I should 
 be happy there ; anyway, I should not learn any 
 good." Evidently he had received wisdom. 
 
 A day or two before the twenty-fifth, Reg 
 remarked, 
 
 " Miss Brown don't believe in circuses, and 
 she says she hopes none of us scholars will go ; 
 and I told her I wouldn't ; and then Tom Dex- 
 ter said if I didn't, he didn't believe he would. 
 And Miss Brown said, 'There, Reg, you see 
 that we are none of us too young to exert an 
 influence.' I made up my mind that I'd have a 
 big injltience when I am a man, and I told her 
 so ; and she said she hoped it would be a good 
 one." 
 
 As for the head of the household, the impor- 
 tance of the circus diminished ; and the day 
 before the performance he said, " Well, I have 
 not found any thing in the Good Book that
 
 150 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 throws any particular light upon the question. 
 But it seems to me that the whole thing is set 
 up opposite the Bible : the two things don't 
 seem to fit." 
 
 During that summer, Mr. Barnard made many 
 little improvements about the shanty, working 
 after hours. But one day it occurred to him, 
 that, as he did not own the property, he might 
 be turned out any time, and all his labor go for 
 naught so far as his comfort and that of his 
 family were concerned ; and there came into his 
 mind the idea of investing in real estate ! He 
 actually laughed as the thought came to him ; 
 but the idea grew, and assumed such propor- 
 tions that he mentioned it to Molly, and soon 
 after went to his landlord with a proposition. 
 He wanted to buy the shanty and two or three 
 acres of land, and pay for it in instalments. A 
 bargain was made, and the legal transfer made ; 
 and " " Old Barney " became the owner of a 
 homestead. 
 
 As the lawyer who was no other than our 
 friend Fred Gray was drawing the papers, he 
 asked,
 
 TRANSFORMED. 151 
 
 " Your name is ? " 
 
 "Thomas Barnard." 
 
 " What ? Barnard ? not Barney ? " 
 
 "Not much! You see, I was sunk pretty 
 low ; and people took liberties with my name, 
 and I hadn't pride enough to resent it. But 
 my name is Thomas Barnard ; and I s'pose, to 
 have the thing legal, it will have to go down 
 that way. And my young ones are going to be 
 called by the name that belongs to them."
 
 1 5 2 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 CHAPTER XIL 
 
 "Take heed to yourselves, and bear no burden on the sabbath 
 day." 
 
 FREDERIC GRAY had fully determined that 
 before parting from Marian Kingsley in New 
 York, on their way from the South, he would 
 ask her to become his wife. But alas for his 
 plans ! A telegram summoned him home a 
 day sooner than he intended to go, and he was 
 obliged to leave without finding an opportunity 
 to see Marian alone. Mr. and Mrs. Gray had 
 gone on a few days earlier, leaving Cora Butler 
 the guest of Marian's cousin, and she was to 
 have accompanied Fred home ; but, as he took 
 a Sunday-night train after receiving the de- 
 spatch, that young lady refused to go. 
 
 " I wouldn't mind it so much myself," she 
 said, "but mamma would be shocked Of
 
 TRANSFORMED. 1 5 3 
 
 course it is different with Fred : he feels that 
 he is obliged to go on at once. But there is 
 no necessity for my breaking the sabbath." 
 
 "Then, you think it is necessary to break the 
 sabbath sometimes ? " said Marian. 
 
 " Why, I don't know what you call it ; but it 
 is necessary that Mr. Gray should be in Wal- 
 tham to-morrow morning." 
 
 " I confess," said Marian, " that I am so 
 stupid as to be unable to see why it is any 
 more excusable for Mr. Gray to break the sab- 
 bath than it would be for you." 
 
 " But, Marian, this is a business necessity. 
 My client's interests, which I am bound to pro- 
 tect, demand the sacrifice of my own inclina- 
 tions." 
 
 " And of principle too ? " asked Marian. 
 
 "Now, Marian, it is all very well to take 
 high ground when you can, but one has to 
 meet the exigencies of business on a lower 
 plane : we are told to be diligent in business, 
 as I have reminded you before now." 
 
 "'Serving the Lord,'" added Marian; "don't 
 forget that part. If we set out to serve him,
 
 1 5 4 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 we have no right to pick out certain commands, 
 and say, 'It is not convenient for me to do this 
 thing.' God said, ' Ye shall keep my sabbaths, 
 and reverence my sanctuary ; I am the Lord.' 
 And so long as that people to whom the com- 
 mand was first given obeyed, they had pros- 
 perity ; but whenever they began to desecrate 
 the sabbath, they fell into gross sin and idola- 
 try. The fifth commandment has been called 
 the commandment with a promise ; but God 
 often repeated the fourth, and added a promise. 
 And, Fred, I fully believe that a man's tem- 
 poral prosperity depends upon how he sancti- 
 fies his sabbaths." 
 
 " O Marian ! " exclaimed Cora, " I wouldn't 
 like to believe that." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " Because I should not dare to speak, or 
 think my own thoughts, on the sabbath." 
 
 "That is just what you are commanded not 
 to do," returned Marian. 
 
 " Are you sure of that ? " asked Fred. 
 
 " Isaiah says we are not to speak our own 
 words : that amounts to the same thing," re- 
 turned Marian.
 
 TRA NSFORMED. 1 5 5 
 
 " You've studied it up more than I have," 
 returned Cora. "I shall be in a state of tor- 
 ment hereafter, for fear of breaking the sab- 
 bath by some originality." 
 
 "Marian, you would make the sabbath a 
 gloomy day, and so hem us in by rules and 
 regulations and prohibitions as to make us feel 
 that we have no right to exist," said Fred. 
 
 " Indeed I would not ! I would make it the 
 brightest and most cheerful day of all the 
 week. I would have every thought of care 
 thrown to the winds. I would not have a sin- 
 gle thought of business intruding. I believe 
 that a Christian has no right to bring business 
 over into holy hours." 
 
 " But if one's business is perplexing, how 
 can he help letting thoughts of it intrude ? " 
 
 " You might as well ask, If one is hungry, 
 how can he help stealing? So far as I know, 
 there is no excuse for sinning, in all the Bible. 
 It may be hard to throw aside the burden of 
 business cares ; but, because obedience is hard, 
 one is not excused for disobeying." 
 
 "I do* not understand you. Do you mean to
 
 1 56 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 say that you think of it as a disobedience, to 
 carry a heavy load of care and anxiety through 
 the sabbath ? Even if it be wrong to plan and 
 calculate, it is not easy to help carrying a sad 
 heart when the prospects are dark." 
 
 " Not easy, perhaps ; but we have the com- 
 mand, ' Carry no burden on the sabbath day.' 
 And I am sure there is no burden like a load 
 of care : it is sometimes heavier than that of 
 a hod-carrier. And you know this principle is 
 recognized by our law-makers. A man is as 
 free from molestation from his creditors during 
 holy time as though he lived in the moon." 
 
 " I declare, Marian," said Cora, "you do pin 
 every thing down so close ! I wouldn't study 
 up subjects as you do, for any thing. It is so 
 hard to slip along easy, after a thorough inves- 
 tigation of a subject. I am glad I have not an 
 inquiring mind." 
 
 " I do not see as that helps any : whether 
 you investigate or not, the facts remain the 
 same, and you are responsible. God has given 
 us six days for our work and business, and set 
 apart the seventh for his own worship ; and
 
 TRA NS FORMED. 1 5 7 
 
 though it serves us as well in giving us rest, it 
 is nevertheless the Lord's own." - 
 
 " But, Marian, I went to church this morn- 
 ing, and to Sunday school, and I am not going 
 to take the train until eight o'clock." 
 
 "Who gave you a right to clip the sabbath 
 at either end ? I cannot help thinking that 
 time saved in that way will be lost twice over 
 before the week ends." 
 
 " Well, Marian," said Fred with a little sneer, 
 "you object to my travelling on Sunday, but 
 you are very willing to profit by it." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " she asked, won- 
 dering. 
 
 " Why, you hold stock in the very road I am 
 going over." 
 
 Marian was as if thunderstruck for a mo- 
 ment. Then she said, " Mr. Gray, I did not 
 know it : at least, if I ever knew, I had forgot- 
 ten. My guardian, as you know, has always 
 attended to all business matters ; but I shall 
 look into this. Thank you for reminding me. 
 I assure you I shall not profit by sabbath- 
 breaking in future. If any money of mine is
 
 1 5 8 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 invested in any of these sabbath-desecrating 
 enterprises, I shall take measures to withdraw 
 it at once." 
 
 Mr. Gray saw that he had been making 
 trouble for his brother, and endeavored to undo 
 what his taunt had done. But Marian saw at 
 once the inconsistency of her position, and de- 
 clared that though it might be at a sacrifice 
 she would sell her stock. 
 
 " Of course," she said, " I understand that 
 my little fortune is as nothing to these vast 
 enterprises, and my influence is small ; but, 
 such as it is, it shall be on the side of the 
 sabbath." 
 
 " But, Marian, can't you see that it is neces- 
 sary to run Sunday trains ? " 
 
 "Indeed, I may be very stupid, but I cannot 
 see any thing of the sort. The Author of the 
 Fourth Commandment must have foreseen 
 the emergencies of the present day, but I cannot 
 find that he provided for the running of Sun- 
 day trains ; and I am forced to conclude that in 
 his wisdom and far-seeing power he did not con- 
 sider that it would ever become a necessity."
 
 TRA NSFORMED. 1 5 9 
 
 " Suppose," said Cora, " that a dear friend, 
 one who was dearer than your own life, lay at 
 the point of death, and that by travelling upon 
 the sabbath you could reach that sick friend in 
 time to receive the last farewell : would you 
 refuse to do so ? " 
 
 " In the first place, how could I be assured 
 that it was necessary ? He who gave the 
 Fourth Commandment holds life in his hand, 
 and could as easily prolong the life of my 
 friend beyond the sabbath as for the hours 
 which in any event must pass before I could 
 reach the place. And if it should not be his 
 will that I should be in time, would it be 
 harder to say, 'Thy will be done,' because I 
 had obeyed ? " 
 
 " But you would drive a long distance in case 
 of illness ? " said Fred. 
 
 " True, I might ; but in that case I should 
 not be accessory to a great evil. My driving 
 along the road would not necessitate the sab- 
 bath labor of a great number of people. I do 
 not believe in making a slight illness the ex- 
 cuse for a Sunday drive ; nor, indeed, a serious
 
 1 60 TRA NSFORMED. 
 
 illness, if I could have gone on Saturday. The 
 works of necessity and mercy will never turn 
 the sabbath into one great work-day and holi- 
 day combined. There is, as I look at rea- 
 son, a great deal of false reasoning in the 
 world, even among Christians, upon this very 
 subject." 
 
 " Marian Kingsley, you are a bit of a fa- 
 natic ! " said Cora. 
 
 " Am I ? What is a fanatic ? " Cora laughed, 
 and did not reply ; and she repeated the ques- 
 tion, " What is a fanatic ? " and Fred replied, 
 
 " Why, one who takes extreme views of 
 things." 
 
 " What are extreme views ? " 
 
 "Well, unreasonable views." 
 
 "Ah ! Is the Bible unreasonable?" 
 
 Fred laughed. " Dear me, how you corner 
 one ! I really must say good-night and good- 
 by." 
 
 Then, as Cora left them for a moment to 
 bring a package to send to her sister, Fred 
 whispered, 
 
 " Marian, I had something to say to you,
 
 TRANSFORMED. l6l 
 
 something which I hope you may want to hear ; 
 but this sudden call gives me no time. Don't 
 look so sober, little girl : I shall come back to 
 you soon." 
 
 Marian went up to her room after he went 
 away, with her thoughts all in a whirl. She 
 could guess what he wanted to say. Did she 
 want to hear it ? Had she given him reason to 
 suppose she would listen ? Did he think her 
 sober face was altogether because of grief at 
 parting with him for a short time ? True, she 
 hated to have him go ; she would miss him ; 
 she had grown to depend upon him, as well as 
 to enjoy his society. Yet at that moment when 
 he had spoken of her sober face, she was think- 
 ing of his infringement of the sabbath, and 
 realizing that he was not doing violence to his 
 conscience ; he honestly believed that his course 
 was justifiable, and Marian mourned that he 
 had not reached higher ground. She mourned, 
 and excused him to herself, saying, " He has 
 not been educated up to a strict observance of 
 the sabbath : as he gets more light, he will look 
 at the matter differently."
 
 1 62 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 And then she remembered his mother : cer- 
 tainly her views upon the sabbath question 
 were as strict as Marian's own. And his 
 brother, her guardian, had followed the teach- 
 ings of that mother. No, she could not lay it 
 to his early training. Evidently he had been 
 educating himself downward ! Still Marian's 
 heart excused him. While in college, he had 
 probably grown lax ; but now that she had ex- 
 pressed her views so plainly, he would be led 
 to think the subject over, and would be likely 
 to see his mistake. And then her thoughts 
 would go back to his last words to her. Did he 
 mean any thing? and did she want him to mean 
 any thing ? She was forced to confess to her- 
 self that there had been a time, not many 
 months ago, when she had named her ideal, 
 Frederic Gray ; but now, since she had come to 
 know Fred better, she knew that she must 
 name her ideal over, or else lower that ideal. 
 And this last she was not ready to do. 
 
 During the weeks that passed before they 
 met again, Marian had plenty of time to study 
 the subject ; but it was not easy to arrive at
 
 TRANSFORMED. 163 
 
 conclusions. Gradually she came to think that 
 she had imagined his words to mean more than 
 he had intended to convey. As he did not 
 write to her, she concluded, that, whatever it 
 might be that he had meant to say, he had 
 probably either forgotten it or changed his mind. 
 But when, two months later, he was able to 
 leave his business and join her at her cousin's 
 cottage by the sea, she knew in that first hour 
 of his coming that he had not forgotten. 
 
 He arrived late Saturday evening, too late 
 for more than a very brief call. He accompa- 
 nied her to the sabbath-morning service in the 
 little chapel, and later went with her to Sunday 
 school where she was a teacher. At the invita- 
 tion of the superintendent, he gave the children 
 a little talk : it was so sweet and tender, so 
 persuasive, that Marian was more ready than 
 ever to excuse his inconsistencies. But during 
 the afternoon something occurred which tried 
 her very much. There was an accident at the 
 beach, and Mr. Gray hastened down to learn 
 the particulars. He stopped at the door of 
 Mrs. Leigh's cottage, as he came back, to tell
 
 1 64 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 them the news : a child had been drowned. 
 And he said to Marian, in a low tone, 
 
 " I shall not be able to go to church with you 
 this evening, but will get around to the door to 
 walk home with you. I must get an account 
 of this affair ready for the morning paper, and 
 send it off by the nine-o'clock train." 
 
 "To-night!" 
 
 " Why, yes ; why not ? " 
 
 Marian did not feel like entering into a use- 
 less argument, so she made no reply to this ; 
 and the young man, not satisfied, said, 
 
 " You don't disapprove of that, do you ? " 
 
 Thus urged for a reply, she said, 
 
 " It does seem rather a strange thing to do, 
 doesn't it ? " 
 
 " It does not seem strange to me. What 
 would a fellow do ? I am bound, as a faithful 
 correspondent, to send the latest news ; and, in 
 order to get into the morning issue, the item 
 must go to-night." 
 
 "Who will be benefited by its getting into 
 the morning papers ? " 
 
 "That is not my business. I am only re- 
 sponsible for my part."
 
 TRANSFORMED. 165 
 
 " True, it is not a fair question in this con- 
 nection. Even if we were sure that a score of 
 people would be interested and apparently bene- 
 fited by the knowledge that a little child had 
 been taken home, that fact would not affect the 
 question whether or not it is right to use the 
 sabbath for secular concerns. Of course, when 
 we feel sure that the affairs will have an impor- 
 tant bearing upon the happiness or misery of 
 other people, there seems to be an excuse ; but 
 I do not suppose it really matters to anybody 
 in the wide world, whether the accident is 
 chronicled in the morning issue or in the after- 
 noon's. But I did not mean to argue. We 
 always leave off where we began. Do not 
 mind coming around to the church after me. 
 Very likely I may not go : I have a headache, 
 and cousin Anna has been advising me to go to 
 bed. So good-night." 
 
 In the quiet of her room, quiet save as the 
 dashing of the waves was ever sounding in her 
 ears, Marian Kingsley laid down her aching 
 head, and tried to still her throbbing pulses. 
 
 " What is the matter ? " she queried of her
 
 1 66 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 own heart. " Am I over-particular ? Am I 
 seeking for and expecting in my chosen friends 
 a degree of perfection which can never be 
 found ? " 
 
 For two or three days, Fred hovered about, 
 seeking for a private interview : he fancied that 
 Marian avoided him, or rather avoided being 
 alone with him. Could it be that he might lose 
 her, after all ? He did not deem it possible, 
 but he determined to end his suspense. 
 
 " Marian, will you come with me down by 
 the sea ? I must see you before I go away " 
 And Marian, feeling that it must come now, 
 let herself be led along the beach. 
 
 It was just at twilight that he seated her in 
 a deserted pavilion ; and it was perhaps half an 
 hour later that he said, standing before her 
 with set lips, 
 
 " No, Marian, I do not blame you. I see 
 now, how even before I left you in New York 
 you tried to show your indifference to me, and 
 if you failed to make me understand, it was be- 
 cause I would not see. But, Marian, I am sure 
 there was a time when, if I had asked you what
 
 TRANSFORMED. 167 
 
 I have to-night, you would not have sent me 
 away without hope. But something came be- 
 tween us: will you not lell me what it was ? " 
 
 " It would not be wise. I do not want to 
 lose your friendship, and you would be angry." 
 
 " I promise not to be offended." 
 
 " Well, Fred, it was not that any thing came 
 between us ; but as I came to know you better 
 I Well, I was disappointed in you. You 
 know very well that we are not in sympathy; 
 we do not think alike ; our views and our aims 
 are very dissimilar. For instance, take the 
 matter of Christian work : you have no interest 
 in any effort to raise a fellow-being out of the 
 depths, excepting by organized effort. And 
 take the temperance question : I heard you say 
 once that your wife should never mix in any 
 temperance work. In fact, Fred, our ideas con- 
 flict at every point of Christian living." 
 
 " I know, Marian, I am not much of a Chris- 
 tian ; but with you to help me I should do 
 better." 
 
 " No, you would not. I could never be that 
 sort of a prop for any man. My husband must
 
 1 68 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 be one to whom I can turn for sympathy and 
 help, and not one whom I must bolster up in 
 the Christian life." 
 
 " You are looking for perfection, but you will 
 never find it." He said this almost sharply. 
 
 " No, Fred, you are mistaken. The fact is, 
 you are as near perfection as any one I know, 
 perhaps ; but the very fact that you do not sat- 
 isfy me, and that I am disposed to criticise you, 
 proves to me that I do not love you. You 
 ought to be a better and stronger man than 
 you are. You ought to let your religion be 
 more than something to enjoy. It needs to go 
 down deeper into your nature, and to give you 
 more earnestness. You fling opportunities to 
 work for God, right and left ; especially if one 
 stands in the way of a business interest, you 
 thrust it aside, and consider yourself justified 
 in doing so. Now you'll go away angry ; but 
 you will know that I am right, and that we 
 could never make each other happy." 
 
 " I should think not ! " he said. She had 
 arisen from her seat, and silently they walked 
 back to the cottage. At the door he held out 
 his hand.
 
 TRANSFORMED. 169 
 
 " I do not know as I ought to expect you to 
 shake hands with such a miserable fellow, but 
 I presume you shook hands with old Barney 
 when you came away." 
 
 " He promised to make the most of himself," 
 she said, smiling. " There's enough of you to 
 make a grand man."
 
 I/O TRANSFORMED. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 "Sit not down in the highest room." 
 
 THE first Monday in September came ; and 
 Thomas Barnard, dressed in his best clothes, 
 betook himself to the church-meeting, where he 
 was to transact what was to him an important 
 piece of business. One of the officials asked, 
 
 " Well, Barney, what can we do for you ? " 
 
 " Well, I calculate I want to rent a pew for 
 the year. Me and my family have concluded 
 to run on another track the rest of our lives ; 
 and I s'pose j'ining the church is where you 
 switch on, and so we want to jine, and have a 
 pew, and run alongside o' folks." 
 
 " You mean, you want to belong to the church 
 society, I suppose ? " 
 
 "Well, we want to belong the same as other 
 folks do. We ain't of much account, but I
 
 TRANSFORMED. \J\ 
 
 read something about the Lord's Supper, and 
 how he told his disciples to observe it ; and I 
 was here one Sunday when you folks all took 
 the bread and wine : the pastor said all who 
 loved the Lord were welcome ; but my wife and 
 I we didn't know, you see, we thought it had 
 to be voted on whether or not we could belong ; 
 and so I kinder shook my head at her, and we 
 didn't either of us take any. And I thought 
 we'd come and see about it to-day." 
 
 If a clap of thunder had sounded in Mr. Nor- 
 ton's ears that bright sunshiny day, he would 
 not have been half so startled as by that queer 
 speech. He was staggered for a moment ; and 
 then he recovered himself, and said, and his 
 voice had a strangely softened sound, even in 
 his own ears, 
 
 " I am glad that you are interested in these 
 matters. I will take you to the pastor's study 
 for a talk with him about coming to the Lord's 
 table. Our business here to-day is to determine 
 what seats we will occupy for the coming year. 
 You can have the one you have been sitting in, 
 if that suits you."
 
 1/2 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 The new-comer among them stood silent for 
 a moment ; then he said, 
 
 "Well, I'll wait a little, and see how you do 
 it. I thought you rented the seats some way, 
 and Mr. Graves said I could pick out one to suit 
 myself. Of course I can't pay as much as some 
 of you rich ones, but I thought maybe there'd 
 be one out a little from that corner, that I 
 could pay for." 
 
 "Ah, yes! Well, I'll see. How much do 
 you think you could pay?" 
 
 "Well, you see," and here he grew confi- 
 dential, " we don't know just how to divide it. 
 But my woman and I thought we'd give three 
 dollars to home missions, and three more to the 
 other kind ; and I've figured it all out here. 
 If I get work every day at say a dollar a day, 
 I got two dollars in haying, but say a dollar 
 taking it all round, why, that will be three 
 hundred dollars, allowing for a holiday or two 
 and for extra meeting days (for I see you have 
 some meetings on week-days) ; and one-tenth of 
 that is thirty dollars. Take away six dollars \ 
 and then we thought we'd allow something, say
 
 TRANSFORMED. 173 
 
 about four dollars, for other things that come 
 along, so there'd be ten to take away : and that 
 would leave twenty for the pew-rent. But then, 
 there's my pension-money, and my wife said we 
 must take a tenth out of that : so I thought 
 we'd make the pew-rent thirty dollars. Now, 
 can you give us a kinder pleasant seat for that ? 
 I suppose we might make it a little more by 
 taking it off some of the other things. You 
 see, we don't know just how you church-folks 
 divide the tenths. We ain't much on arith- 
 metic ; but my boys are getting quite smart at 
 accounts, and we shall learn how to divide up 
 things after a while." 
 
 Mr. Norton had listened attentively to this 
 long speech, and at its conclusion he said, 
 
 " I'll speak to brother Graves." To tell the 
 truth, he did not know what reply to make. 
 Thirty dollars ! Why, that was more than he 
 paid for the support of the gospel in Waltham. 
 Indeed, there were not many members of that 
 society who did more. That ought to entitle 
 Barney to one of the best seats in the church. 
 No wonder Mr. Norton wanted to consult
 
 174 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 brother Graves : the whole subject was too 
 much for him. Already "old Barney" had 
 gone beyond this officer in the church. Three 
 dollars to home missions, and three to "the 
 other kind " ! Why, he had never given more 
 than one dollar a year ; indeed, he thought him- 
 self quite liberal in giving that amount for the 
 work of sending the glad tidings abroad. He 
 very well knew that the greater part of the 
 congregation helped on the spread of the gospel 
 with their " small change." Tenths ! How 
 many of them had ever thought of setting apart 
 a proportionate amount for the Lord's treasury? 
 And, if any thought of it, how many conscien- 
 tiously did it ? 
 
 Going over to brother Graves, Mr. Norton 
 told his story as well as he could. Mr. Graves's 
 astonishment surpassed even his own, and he 
 said quickly, 
 
 "This must not be allowed. The man is 
 beside himself. The idea ! A man who has 
 to have help from his neighbors to keep off 
 starvation, talking about thirty dollars for a 
 pew ! It must not be allowed."
 
 TRANSFORMED. 175 
 
 "Brother Graves," began Mr. Norton, "we 
 will not be called upon to help that family after 
 this. The man is made over somehow ; and if 
 after talking with him you want to refuse his 
 offering, you will have to take the responsibility; 
 I would not like to suggest it. Let us go and 
 talk with brother Manning." 
 
 And to the pastor's study they went. 
 
 Now, in justice to the pastor of Waltharn 
 church, it ought to be recorded, that all through 
 the long summer months every moment which 
 could be snatched from public duties had been 
 spent by the bedside of a suffering wife ; and 
 his people had willingly excused him from any 
 pastoral visiting. He had noticed the strangers 
 who sat in the corner pew, and had sought them 
 out several times after service to shake hands 
 with them ; and now that the invalid was on 
 the road to health, he meant to seek out their 
 home. He had said to his wife, only the day 
 before, 
 
 " Those people they call the Barneys were at 
 church again to-day. I must certainly get over 
 there, or out there, or down, or up, I am sure
 
 1/6 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 I don't know which it is, some day this 
 week." 
 
 He listened to the story which his visitors 
 had to tell, with great interest, and replied, 
 
 " Well, brethren, I should say we had reason 
 to thank God for his grace manifested in and 
 towards these people." 
 
 " But, brother Manning, you do not know 
 the family. They are the lowest you can ima- 
 gine. They live more like beasts out in that 
 hovel than like human beings." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 " The man does not know what he is about, 
 evidently," said Mr. Graves. 
 
 " I don't know," said Mr. Norton. " He talks 
 as if he had looked the ground all over, and 
 knew exactly what he wants to do." 
 
 "So it seems," said the pastor. "Now, my 
 opinion is, that you should select a pew for him 
 just as you would for any stranger who came in 
 offering to pay for a thirty-dollar seat. If there 
 is any right in the plan of renting pews in this 
 way, and I am not questioning it, then it 
 is right that he should have what his money
 
 TRANSFORMED. 177 
 
 calls for. And, if he wishes to come to the 
 Lord's table, I do not see how you can refuse 
 him the privilege, except for reasons which 
 would apply in the case of a member of your 
 own family. I am sure that his readiness to 
 bring in the tithes goes a long way to prove his 
 sincerity. When a man's pocket-book is con- 
 secrated, it is usually the case that his whole 
 life is turned into a new channel." 
 
 "But they have scarcely decent clothing," 
 said Mr. Graves. "The man has on his best 
 to-day, and you will think him a shabby-looking 
 fellow if you'll step into the church and take a 
 look at him." 
 
 " His shabbiness will not trouble me. But if, 
 as you say, they are in need of suitable cloth- 
 ing, the church must find a way to help them 
 to it without trampling on their self-respect. I 
 must get acquainted with the family. It seems 
 evident that we as a church have something to 
 do. This family comes to us from the depths, 
 as you say. They may be still reeking with 
 slime, the habits of years may be clinging to 
 them ; but if they have come up out of their
 
 178 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 degradation, it is our duty to help them to hold 
 their footing, to see that they are not dragged 
 back by the power of habit or by the discour- 
 agements of the new life entered upon under 
 unfavorable circumstances. If these people 
 come into our church, we must see to it that 
 they are neither allowed to stumble for want of 
 light, nor frozen for want of warmth. If our 
 own hearts are not sufficiently fired with reli- 
 gious zeal to give them the comfort and glow 
 they need for growth, then let us get fired ; let 
 us seek for a new baptism. We have been so 
 long with nothing to do, that a sensation of this 
 sort, bringing work into our very midst, may 
 warm us, and inspire us with a working spirit. 
 I think I'll go now and harness my horse, and 
 take Mrs. Manning for a short drive while you 
 settle the pew-business ; then I'll drive brother 
 Barnard home, and get acquainted with the 
 family. Keep him here until I get back." 
 
 Mr. Norton, who had talked with the new 
 brother, could not dissent from their pastor's 
 remarks ; but Mr. Graves evidently was not in 
 sympathy with his ideas.
 
 TRANSFORMED. 179 
 
 " It is a great mistake," he said. " The Bar- 
 neys ought to be kept in their proper sphere. 
 They are as much out of place in the society 
 of respectable people, and as much out of their 
 element, as a duckling out of water. Besides, 
 if we do the fair thing, they ought to have that 
 pew next to Colonel Strong's." 
 
 " But you would not counsel the doing of an 
 unfair thing, would you ? " asked Mr. Norton, 
 smiling. 
 
 " Well, no ; but the colonel's wife will never 
 endure to sit beside old Moll Barney, and that 
 is what she will have to do if we give them what 
 their money calls for." 
 
 " But I do not quite understand. What would 
 you propose ? " 
 
 " I would try to persuade them that they 
 ought not to give so much. If we could make 
 the man see that he ought not to pay more than 
 fifteen dollars, then we could give him the seat 
 by the pillar, and no one would be annoyed by 
 their proximity. And really it seems wrong to 
 take even as much as that from a man in his 
 circumstances."
 
 180 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 Mr. Norton shook his head. "It won't do. 
 Mr. Manning has expressed himself too strongly. 
 We must just go on, and do the fair thing." 
 
 "But," persisted Mr. Graves, "I insist that 
 it will be the fair thing to do what I propose ; 
 besides, it will never do to offend the Strongs." 
 
 " We will not do that. My pew is just across 
 from the colonel's, and I presume an exchange 
 can be made. My wife will not mind." 
 
 But when Thomas Barnard was shown the 
 seat marked thirty dollars, he said, 
 
 " That won't do. Why, it is one of the best 
 in the church! That ought to go to some of 
 you rich fellows who have more tenths. A 
 poor fellow like me can't expect the best. No, 
 all I ask is a middling sort of a place, back 
 there somewheres nigh that 'ere post. Now, I 
 kinder think that post would be a good thing to 
 lean my head agin when I'm tired. You see, 
 I haven't been used to listening to such deep 
 thoughts as the parson gets off, and sometimes 
 my head whirls with trying to understand him. 
 I'd like that seat right well, if you have no 
 objections."
 
 TRA NS 'FORMED. 1 8 1 
 
 "But that seat is not marked quite so high," 
 ventured Mr. Norton. 
 
 "Makes no sort o ? difference what it's marked. 
 I've got the thirty dollars, at least, I've got a 
 part of it here to-day, and if the Lord spares 
 my life and strength I'll have the rest on't ; and 
 if I like the seat I dunno's it makes any differ- 
 ence ef 'tain't marked more'n five dollars. I 
 calculate I'm paying out money for the support 
 of the gospel, and not for a seat. I hain't got 
 no call to take the front seats just now. My 
 woman was reading in the Good Book how the 
 master of the feast said to one who took a low 
 place, ' Friend, come up higher ; ' and she says 
 to me, ' Now, Thomas, don't go to pushing for- 
 ward ; take a low seat, and maybe some day 
 you'll hear the Master a-saying, Come up 
 higher. But it won't be money that buys the 
 higher places at that feast.' " 
 
 " The fellow is away ahead of us ! " said Mr. 
 Norton, turning away. "I declare, I haven't 
 heard a sermon in years, and our pastor 
 preaches pretty plain too, that makes the 
 duty of Christians in regard to giving half as
 
 1 82 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 plain as that man's example. And his ideas, 
 homely as they are in the expression, are born 
 out of something that I fear the most of us 
 have not come into the possession of. I am 
 going home to calculate my income, and see 
 what 7 ought to give back to the Lord ! " 
 
 The matter was settled quite to the satisfac- 
 tion of Mr. Graves ; that gentleman quieting 
 any scruples he may have had against renting 
 a fifteen-dollar seat for thirty, by the reflection 
 that " the man would never pay more than the 
 fifteen dollars anyway : the rest would be in 
 talk ! And that seat is much more suitable 
 for the family : the idea that brother Norton 
 thought they ought to have the pew next to 
 Colonel Strong ! " 
 
 Presently, at a seasonable moment, Mr. Man- 
 ning drove up, and, shaking hands cordially, 
 said, 
 
 " Brother Barnard, I am going out your 
 way, and I think I will call on your family. 
 I have another parishioner beyond your 
 house." 
 
 "Another parishioner !" Those words im-
 
 TRA NS FORM ED 1 8 3 
 
 pressed Thomas Barnard. Another! then he 
 must be considered as one. A parishioner? 
 Of course : he was now a pew-holder in Wal- 
 tham Church!
 
 1 84 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 "God . . . giveth grace unto the humble." 
 
 MR. MANNING made no haste, but drove leis- 
 urely along the country roads, seeking to draw 
 out and get acquainted with his companion. 
 The day was bright and cool. There was no 
 hint in all the woodland of the coming glory 
 of autumn. The hay and grain harvests had 
 long been gathered, and the stubble overgrown 
 with the aftermath which had almost the fresh- 
 ness of spring-time ; but there was a haze in 
 the atmosphere, there were sounds in the air 
 that belong only to the last days of summer 
 and the first of autumn, the rustle in the 
 corn-fields, the chirping of crickets, the drop- 
 ping of ripening fruits, and the flutter of wings 
 as some southward-bound flock of birds sweep 
 over orchard and meadow. Mr. Manning en-
 
 TRANSFORMED. 185 
 
 joyed the brightness and the peculiar beauty 
 of this September day ; but as he listened to 
 the story of the man beside him, his soul was 
 thrilled as he became the possessor of the 
 secret of the transforming work which was 
 going on in the life of the man and in his 
 family. That night he said to his wife as he 
 told the story of the day, 
 
 "When Marian Kingsley first lifted her 
 voice in our prayer-meeting, I felt that she had 
 come among us to be a blessing, and I asked 
 God to make her such. I realized that we 
 needed the infusion of just such a warm, ear- 
 nest spirit among us. But afterwards I felt 
 that she had been chilled, and that the little 
 spark of fire which she had brought had gone 
 out in the blast of neglect ; and I blamed my- 
 self that I did not do something to fan it into 
 a blaze. And then I hoped and prayed that 
 somewhere she would apply the torch which 
 would set us all on fire. But she went away 
 suddenly ; and then I mourned that she had 
 gone, and wished that I had seen more of her, 
 and thought that I had lost an opportunity
 
 1 86 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 of securing help. But to-day, after all these 
 months, I have discovered in a remote corner 
 of my parish the fire she kindled, burning 
 brightly ! Yes, and likely to spread into the 
 church. I tell you, Carrie, I felt humbled, but 
 so thankful ! Why, that woman in that poor 
 home is sitting at the feet of Jesus, learning of 
 him. There are women who have been mem- 
 bers of this church for years, who have not 
 gone beyond the alphabet of Christian living ; 
 while she has gained a knowledge of the duties 
 and privileges of a Christian that is wonderful. 
 She seems to have taken into her heart the 
 essence of Christianity. The fact is, she has 
 drank from the fountain-head only ; she has 
 been living upon the Bible. She tells me she 
 has been a great novel-reader, but that she has 
 thrown aside every thing but the Bible, and 
 has been seeking wisdom of God." 
 
 Mr. Manning was somewhat surprised when 
 he reached the little house in the clearing that 
 afternoon. He remembered it, as he had seen 
 it in driving past, some months previous. He 
 had noted the miserable hovel, and wondered a
 
 TRA NS FORM ED. 1 87 
 
 little as to who occupied it, but had not been 
 sufficiently interested to make any inquiries. 
 It had not occurred to him, or at least not 
 more than as a passing thought, that he had 
 any thing to do with the people who lived 
 there. But to-day, as he saw the work which 
 had been done through the instrumentality of 
 another, he sighed as he thought, " Here was 
 an opportunity lost. God could and did reach 
 these people without me, but I have missed the 
 reward : I was unfaithful to what was within 
 my charge, and passed it by." 
 
 And yet, do you know, I think Mr. Manning 
 blamed himself too severely. Perhaps the 
 time had not come to help the family then. It 
 was only when sickness and trouble came to 
 them, that they were in a position to be 
 reached ; and had he tried before that, he might 
 have failed. It was only when Marian Kings- 
 ley had won their hearts by her care of the 
 sick mother, and her help in other ways, that 
 she was able to lead them up to a higher plane. 
 
 One would scarcely have known the little 
 house for the same that Marian Kingsley's eyes
 
 1 88 , TRANSFORMED. 
 
 had first looked upon. Nan's bright scarlet 
 beans, intermingled with other running plants 
 which Mrs. Dexter's package contained, covered 
 the windows, and hung in graceful festoons 
 over the doorway. Every thing around the 
 house was tidy, and had a cleared-up air. In- 
 stead of the scattered logs and pile of uncut 
 branches lying just as dragged from the swamp- 
 lot, there was a trim pile of wood all ready for 
 the stove, and sheltered from the rain by a few 
 slabs which Reg had brought from the mill 
 and laid with a slope sufficient to carry off 
 the water. The little strawberry-patch on the 
 sandy knoll was free from weeds, as was 
 the garden with its ripening vegetables. A 
 few golden pumpkins gleamed through the 
 vines ; some mammoth cabbages, and a few 
 brilliant red tomatoes, told of success in the 
 experiment of gardening. Mr. Manning said 
 to Reg, 
 
 " Seems to me you have a knack at raising 
 tomatoes : I haven't seen any so fine this sea- 
 son ; " which bit of praise won Reg's heart, 
 and set him to watching for an opportunity to 
 consult his mother.
 
 TRA NSFORMED. 1 89 
 
 Though the inside accommodations were 
 poor and scanty, all was neat and in order. 
 Marian Kingsley's most careful clearing-up 
 would have brought to light no long-lost spoons 
 or knives, or missing articles of clothing. The 
 chair which Mrs. Barnard set out for her vis- 
 itor was well scoured, though slightly rickety. 
 The stove was black, and shone with its fresh 
 coat of blacking ; though the lids were cracked, 
 and the broken door propped up with a brick. 
 
 There were wonderful improvements in the 
 domestic management of that household, though 
 the visitor did not know it. The shiny tin tea- 
 pot which stood upon the shelf had taken the 
 place of the whiskey-jug. The bright tea- 
 kettle which steamed upon the stove was an 
 innovation. Wholesome Graham-flour, with an 
 occasional treat of white flour, had taken the 
 place of middlings ; and loaves of bread had 
 superseded the sticky griddle-cake. 
 
 With the daily exercise of her new-born 
 energy, Mrs. Barnard was fast becoming a 
 notable housekeeper. She longed to ask her 
 pastor to stay to tea, but would not risk a
 
 IQO TRANSFORMED. 
 
 refusal ; besides, she felt that she had nothing 
 suitable to set before him. Yet she need not 
 have been ashamed of her light, tender loaf of 
 bread, baked only on the Saturday before, or 
 of the cup of tea which she had learned to 
 make properly before Miss Kingsley went 
 away. But she did not know this, and looked 
 forward with the hope that perhaps some day 
 she could Have the coveted honor. But I be- 
 lieve that Mr. Manning would have accepted 
 the invitation, had it been given, and would 
 have drunk his tea from a chipped cup, and 
 eaten his bread and butter from off a cracked 
 plate such as his wife would have consigned to 
 the pile of baking-plates or perhaps to the 
 waste-heap. 
 
 The call was in all respects a happy one ; 
 nothing occurred to mar the pleasure of the 
 interview ; and the pastor marvelled more and 
 more, as he talked with different members of 
 the family, at the progress that had been made 
 in the divine life. He realized as never before, 
 what a few months of feeding upon the word 
 of God will do for the growth of a soul. And
 
 TRANSFORMED. 191 
 
 it became evident, in the course of the conver- 
 sation, that to study the Bible, and follow out 
 its teachings, had become the leading thought 
 in the minds of this couple. Thomas said, 
 
 " You see, parson, I never set up to be much 
 of a scholar : I can read some, but I don't seem 
 to sense what I reads myself. I can write a 
 bit too. Say, Nan, run and bring the Book. 
 I want to ask the parson if I did that writing 
 all straight, the names, you know, Molly, in 
 the middle pages there. Oh, you- needn't mind 
 if the minister does find out how old ye be ! 
 We ain't either on us as young as we was. But 
 then, I reckon as fur as real living goes, we 
 are about as young as anybody in this neighbor- 
 hood : why; parson, 'tain't a year yet since we 
 was born over again ! Oh, I'm glad you didn't 
 know us afore that ! " 
 
 Meantime, while he talked, he turned over 
 the leaves ; and, finding the record which he 
 had filled out with such patient labor, he held it 
 up for examination. 
 
 "There! You can see I ain't much of a 
 scribe, now, but I did the best I could."
 
 192 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 Mr. Manning took the Bible, saying, 
 
 " I want to remember all your names : per- 
 haps this will help." 
 
 And he read over the names, evidently giving 
 his host great satisfaction in being able to do 
 so without trouble. As he came to the end, he 
 looked around puzzled, and said, 
 
 " Why, you have left out one ; which is it ? 
 Why, it must be this little fellow." 
 
 "Yes," replied the host, "that's the only 
 quarrel my wife and I have had since we began 
 to read the Book. We had a dispute about the 
 boy's name : she wanted it one thing, and I 
 wanted it another. No, that ain't it neither: 
 I wanted it one thing, and she didn't want it 
 that, and so I left it. But I've concluded that 
 I've got to give up. I never meant to there! 
 Not that I cared about the name, but I didn't 
 mean to yield to nobody. I've had a good deal 
 of a fight about that very thing, all alone with 
 myself, with Satan backing the other side, out 
 there in the woods, and sometimes in the night 
 when Molly was asleep." 
 
 " Why, Thomas ! I never knowed you cared
 
 TRANSFORMED. 193 
 
 so about that name. I'll never call him Huey 
 again." 
 
 "Then you won't call him by his name, kase 
 that is what his name is going to be." 
 
 " Do you mean that this little fellow has been 
 all this time without a name ? " asked Mr. Man- 
 ning. Thereupon Thomas explained how the 
 child's name had been a bone of contention, 
 and how the boy himself had sided against the 
 father ; and went over again the story of his 
 own struggle with himself, and of his final de- 
 termination to yield. "And now, parson," he 
 concluded, "I just want you to put the little 
 chap's name down there, just as the mother 
 and the rest on 'em wants it ; and then he will 
 have a name." 
 
 After some more discussion over a middle 
 name, Mr. Manning wrote below the unskilled 
 hand which had filled the other blanks, " Hugh 
 Kingsley Barnard." 
 
 Taking the Bible from the hand of his pas- 
 tor, Mr. Barnard looked at the name, and said 
 with feeling, 
 
 " I'm glad it is written ! It stands for a vie-
 
 1 94 TRA NSFORMED. 
 
 tory over old Satan. He just fought hard on 
 the side of my self-will and pride ! He told 
 me over and over not to give up, that I had the 
 best right to name the boy, and he argued that 
 the little fellow was named already, and that he 
 couldn't have his name changed only by an Act 
 of Legislates But, land ! I knew it wasn't so. 
 The child couldn't be named without the con- 
 sent of his mother, and my putting 'Je' onter 
 the name his mother called him by didn't make 
 that his name. But now it's writ down here, 
 I guess that the old enemy himself can't rub 
 that out ! Well, I was a-saying, that I can't 
 read much, not having great book-larning ; and 
 there's one thing, if book-larning will make 
 a fellow write like that 'ar, I'll see to it that 
 my youngsters gets an eddication. But I was 
 a-telling on ye, that seeing I ain't much of a 
 reader, Molly here reads to us all. She is a 
 master-hand at reading, and she makes us un- 
 derstand every word." 
 
 "But do you not find things in the Bible 
 which are difficult to understand ? " asked Mr. 
 Manning.
 
 TRANSFORMED. 195 
 
 "Well, sometimes ; though I think it is pretty 
 plain mostly. But the other morning she read 
 about the man who was found at the feast with- 
 out a wedding-garment on, and was cast out. 
 Now, it seemed to me that it might not be fair 
 always to cast out a fellow who was not dressed 
 quite up to style. Maybe he was poor, and 
 wore the best he had." 
 
 " But the master of the feast along with the 
 invitations sent the proper garment to be worn 
 upon the occasion, sent to all the guests. But 
 this man refused to put it on." 
 
 "I see!" exclaimed Mrs Barnard. "Don't 
 you understand, Thomas ? It is Christ's right- 
 eousness that he means, and we are the guests. 
 And I suppose there's some that's too proud to 
 take favors, and want to come to the feast in 
 their own fine clothes, which turn out after all 
 to be only rags ; and some maybe put off chan- 
 ging until it was too late ; and maybe, Thomas, 
 there'd be some like you and me, that never 
 heard of the invitation, or had forgotten all 
 about it. That's the way it would have been if 
 that blessed young lady hadn't come here and 
 told us."
 
 196 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 "But," said Thomas, "suppose a man was 
 too proud to wear the garment which was given 
 him along with the invitation, and should make 
 one pretty near like it, just as near as he could, 
 and put that on : d'ye suppose he could slip in ? " 
 
 " He might slip in among the other guests 
 undetected ; but when the Master of the feast 
 came, he would know, and under his look the 
 false garment would turn, as your wife has said, 
 into filthy rags. We may deceive our fellow- 
 men, but we cannot deceive Christ." 
 
 " That is what I told neighbor Filkins," said 
 Thomas. "We had a talk the other day. It 
 wasn't about wedding-garments, for my wife 
 hadn't come to that yet ; but he said as how he 
 thought he lived as well as folks that called 
 themselves Christians, and he believed his pass, 
 as he called it, would take him into heaven as 
 quick as anybody's. Now that you've explained 
 about this wedding-garment, it seems to me 
 that Filkins is trying to slip in in a fine dress 
 of his own making; and the real will have the 
 Master's name writ on it. I kinder allowed all 
 along, that there was some sort of a meaning
 
 TRANSFORMED. 197 
 
 to that passage, like there is to a riddle ; but 
 we couldn't study it out. But when my boys 
 gets a little more larnin', they will help us out 
 with the puzzles." 
 
 Presently Mr. Manning proposed that they 
 should all kneel, and ask God's blessing. 
 
 " Sartin, sartin ! " said the host heartily. 
 " Right there where you are setting, Miss 
 Kingsley knelt down and prayed the first prayer 
 I had heard in years ; and right there I prayed 
 my first prayer, and promised on my knees to 
 serve the Lord. My woman had done that 
 afore ; but that was when I put Satan out, and 
 took the Lord in." 
 
 As the pastor drove homeward after making 
 a call upon his other friends in that direction, 
 meditating within himself, he said aloud, "The 
 grace of God ! The grace of God ! How won- 
 derful is its transforming power ! " 
 
 Reg had managed a whispered consultation 
 with his mother ; and as their visitor was ready 
 to go, he appeared with a dozen of his finest 
 tomatoes as a gift for the minister. Even if 
 Mr. Manning had bushels at home, which he
 
 1 98 TRA NSFORMED. 
 
 had not, he would have accepted the gift with 
 pleasure. He expressed his thanks warmly, 
 and gave Reg an idea. 
 
 " I shall have to get you to raise my vege- 
 tables forme another year: I have no success 
 with my garden. There are a number of us 
 village people who sigh for some one to bring 
 us our supply fresh from a country garden. 
 You might set up for a market-gardener." 
 
 And with a cheery smile and a good-by he 
 drove off, leaving Reg richer in many ways, 
 richer in friends, and richer in ideas. Now, 
 how to please the one, and how to work out the 
 other, became his study. 
 
 Reg had reached his thirteenth birthday : he 
 felt himself quite a man, and was as full of am- 
 bitions as a boy could well be. It was not yet 
 a year since he had awakened to the knowledge 
 of the fact that he had ambitions. He had 
 been satisfied with the sort of life he had been 
 living, until that night when the family sat 
 down to a well-spread tea-table ! Then and 
 there a feeling sprang up in his heart, that 
 things ought to be different ; and a resolve
 
 TRANSFORMED, 199 
 
 that they should be different was written down 
 along with the other feeling. There was born 
 in that hour an ambition to live like other 
 people, though the boy did not know it. He 
 had never heard of such a thing as an ambition. 
 Perhaps because in all these twelve years he 
 had never heard or thought of any thing better, 
 the new ideas had taken hold with a firmer 
 grasp : it would not have been easy for Reg to 
 go back entirely satisfied with the old ways. 
 Never from that evening was he content to eat 
 a simple luncheon without a plate, knife and 
 fork, and tablecloth : a little later a napkin be- 
 came quite indispensable. He had never been 
 wanting in energy, and his active mind had new 
 fields of exercise. Heretofore his surplus ener- 
 gies had been used exclusively in the carrying- 
 out of mischievous schemes ; but now every 
 thing must bend to the accomplishment of his 
 purpose, to live like other folks !
 
 200 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 " For the place ... is holy." 
 
 THOMAS BARNARD and his wife did not hear 
 the notice of the weekly prayer-meeting given 
 out from the pulpit, sabbath after sabbath, 
 without becoming interested in it, and feeling 
 that perhaps they ought to attend it. And yet 
 a walk of two miles in the evening, after a day 
 of hard work, seemed quite an undertaking. 
 They consulted their pastor as to their duty. 
 
 "Molly ain't strong," said Thomas, "and 
 then there's the children : we don't like to 
 leave them alone in the evening, though Reg 
 is getting to be a great boy. But if we 
 oughter go, we'll try to make it out." 
 
 " It does seem a long walk," said Mr. Man- 
 ning ; "and I am sorry to say that some of our 
 good people who have horses think that two
 
 TRANSFORMED. 2OI 
 
 miles is too far to come to prayer-meeting. I 
 don't think you could come always ; but if you 
 would remember the meeting at home, and 
 come as often as you feel able, it will do great 
 good. You have never been at all ? " 
 
 " Never went to a prayer-meeting in my life, 
 as I remember," said Thomas. 
 
 " Well, try to come the next moonlight even- 
 ing. It will do you good." 
 
 The words had no sooner passed his lips, 
 than Mr. Manning asked himself, "Will it do 
 him good ? Are our prayer-meetings such as 
 will help him ? Will they give him an upward 
 impetus ? Will he get higher views of Chris- 
 tian living, and be filled with a desire to emu- 
 late our religious zeal?" And as the thought 
 returned to him at intervals, the good man was 
 troubled. Once it was suggested to his mind, 
 that Thomas Barnard might help the prayer- 
 meeting if the prayer-meeting did not help 
 Thomas Barnard ; and then he wondered what 
 some of his people would say to the sugges- 
 tion. 
 
 That prayer-meeting had troubled Mr. Man-
 
 202 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 ning for years. It was stiff and formal : the 
 same people came year after year, and said 
 the same things, and prayed the same prayers. 
 Mr. Manning did not believe in too many new 
 things, or in making innovations except rarely ; 
 but he did believe in life. He wanted a live 
 prayer-meeting and a live church, and he felt 
 that he had neither. He had no cause to com- 
 plain of his people personally : they were de- 
 voted to him, they came to hear him preach, 
 they paid his salary, they kept the church in 
 good repair ; they were a well-dressed, decorous 
 congregation on Sundays. But they did not 
 come to the prayer-meeting, at least, only a 
 few. The spiritual strength of the church 
 seemed dormant ; and the pastor mourned over 
 the facts, but failed apparently to reach their 
 needs. What should stir them ? 
 
 Thursday evening came around again. It 
 was a pleasant evening, and the young people 
 were taking advantage of the moonlight, stroll- 
 ing up and down the pleasant walks of the vil- 
 lage. Just before the last bell rang, Thomas 
 Barnard and his wife stopped at Mr. Preston's
 
 TRANSFORMED. 203 
 
 door : at least, Mollie went in, while he waited 
 outside. 
 
 "We thought maybe you'd let us go down 
 to the church with you to-night : we felt queer 
 about going in alone." 
 
 " To the church ? " said Mrs. Preston, bewil- 
 dered. 
 
 "Yes, to the praying-meeting. Thomas and 
 I have never been yet, and he don't mind ; 
 but I wanted to go with somebody the first 
 time. I thought I wouldn't know where to sit 
 if I went alone." 
 
 I do not think Mrs. Preston was ever more 
 embarrassed in all her life. If she had been 
 less so, she would not have said what she did, 
 though it was the truth. She said afterwards, 
 " I needn't have told her that. I might better 
 have said, what was also true, that I was too 
 tired to walk down to the church." But what 
 she said was, that she never went to prayer- 
 meeting. And Mrs. Barnard's astonishment 
 was so evident that it did not need her "Why, 
 I supposed all the church-members down here 
 at the village went ! " to convince Mrs. Pres-
 
 204 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 ton. Then, as if she might have divined the 
 reason, Mrs. Barnard added, " But perhaps 
 women don't go. I never thought of that ! " 
 
 But Mrs. Preston could not hide behind that 
 excuse, and assured her caller that women did 
 go to the prayer-meeting though she did not go 
 herself. Then Mrs. Barnard rejoined her hus- 
 band, and they made their way to the church 
 as best they could. 
 
 As for Mrs. Preston, she was more disturbed 
 by the incident than she cared to own. She 
 was a bit angry. What business had that Bar- 
 ney woman coming to remind her of her duty ? 
 an ignorant creature just out of the depths! 
 What if she didn't go to the prayer-meeting ? 
 Plenty of people did not go. The prayer-meet- 
 ing was a dull place ; anyway, that one was. 
 She remembered then another prayer-meeting, 
 away back in her girlhood : the memory took 
 her back to the hour when she first opened her 
 heart to receive the loving Saviour. Again 
 she heard her father's voice lifted in praise and 
 thanksgiving (her father's prayers were always 
 begun and ended with thanksgiving) ; she heard
 
 TRANSFORMED. 205 
 
 again her pastor's voice, with its burden of lov- 
 ing entreaty, of gentle admonition, of strong 
 counsel, and of inspiration to the young souls 
 under his charge. And there were women in 
 that prayer-meeting, aged saints, and young 
 energetic women, ready to bear their part in 
 the service of song and in giving words of 
 testimony to the loving-kindness of God, or in 
 seeking the presence of the Spirit by words 
 of prayer. Oh, that was not a dull prayer- 
 meeting ! She had taken part in it herself, 
 more than once. But it was different here in 
 Waltham ; at least, it used to be : she was 
 forced to confess that she didn't know much 
 about it, it was so long since she had been to 
 the meeting. 
 
 But what made it different ? Could she 
 make it any better if she went? She knew 
 that if she wanted to go, her husband would go 
 with her, and he would perhaps say something 
 to add to the interest. And anyway she sup- 
 posed she ought to go from a sense of duty, 
 even if it was dull. But then her awakening 
 conscience told her that the place where Christ
 
 206 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 himself was present could not be dull ; and she 
 knew that if she went with her heart filled with 
 his love, he would surely meet her there, and 
 bless her with an increase of Christian grace. 
 " Have I been growing in grace since I gave 
 up the prayer-meeting?" she asked herself, 
 and was forced to confess that she had grown 
 away from Christ. Was it not true that the 
 flame upon the family altar had burned low, 
 that a chill of vvorldliness had crept over them, 
 and that both she and her husband were drift- 
 ing along with the world, carried by its current 
 hither and thither, almost unheeding the claims 
 of religion ? What had she done for Christ 
 of late? She sent her children to Sunday 
 school, conscientiously teaching them their les- 
 son ; and she had taught little Nan a prayer : 
 and that was all she could say for herself. She 
 had given money, it is true ; but more from 
 habit, and because it was proper, than from any 
 interest in the causes to which she contributed. 
 And did she hallow her sabbaths, study her 
 Bible, love her neighbor as herself and God 
 supremely ?
 
 TRANSFORMED. 207 
 
 What a train of thought her caller had 
 started ! She could not get away from the 
 subject. To think that she had been brought 
 to confusion by that woman ! But was the 
 woman to blame ? Was it not reasonable for 
 her to be surprised to find that all church- 
 members did not go to the prayer-meeting? 
 Whom was the prayer-meeting for anyway ? If 
 it was for those who needed it, then it surely 
 must be for Mrs. Preston. She began to think 
 that she needed it. 
 
 She was very sober all the evening, so 
 much so that her husband noticed it, and 
 asked, "What is the matter, Ella?" and then 
 she told him all about it, and they talked it 
 over together. His heart was touched, and he 
 said, " She was right, Ella, and we ought to go. 
 Let's start out once more, and go regularly. 
 Mr. Manning has spoken to me about it several 
 times, but I have always had an excuse : now, 
 if you say so, we will try it next week." 
 
 Meantime the Barnards sat in wonder 
 through that evening service. 
 
 The opening hymn had thrilled their hearts.
 
 208 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 Grace Norton's sweet voice had made the 
 words, " Sweet hour of prayer," to carry a deep 
 meaning to these hearts to whom the hour and 
 the hymn were new. But there were some 
 things which Lou Strong was wont to say 
 "took the sweetness all out:" there were long 
 prayers, and long rambling remarks, and there 
 were long pauses. Mr. Manning had grown 
 accustomed to those pauses, but they were as 
 painful to him as they had been years before 
 when he used to try to have them filled. He 
 had grown discouraged ; and nowadays he only 
 said now and then, " Has any one a word for 
 us ? " or, " Shall we have another season of 
 prayer ? " This evening he was particularly 
 annoyed, for there were the Barnards for the 
 first time : how he longed for some one to say 
 something that would help them ! It seemed 
 to him that the pauses were longer and more 
 frequent than usual, and that Mr. Martin was 
 more fault-finding than ever before, and that 
 Mr. Graves was more weary of this vale of 
 tears, and Mr. Sloane more mournful because 
 of his own shortcomings. It seemed to Mr.
 
 TRANSFORMED. 209 
 
 Manning that there had not been one bright or 
 helpful thing said all through ; and even when 
 he said, by way of bringing out something to 
 the point, " Now, brethren, let us speak for a 
 few moments of our encouragements. Tell of 
 some of our victories over sin, or recount our 
 causes for thanksgiving," Mr. Mansfield took 
 occasion to deplore his own proneness to yield 
 to the power of Satan, and another brother 
 spoke as wide of the mark as was possible. 
 
 Then suddenly, to the astonishment of all, 
 the long, lank figure of Thomas Barnard rose 
 slowly to an erect position. He said, 
 
 "You all know that it is only a little while 
 since we began to serve the Lord out to our 
 house. And those who knew us then can see 
 that the Lord has been paying us pretty well. 
 The minister asked us to tell of some things 
 we were thankful for. I am thankful for the 
 religion of the Lord Jesus Christ. It has lifted 
 me and my family right up out of the mire ; we 
 feel the solid earth under our feet. We know 
 that we are led all the way along, and when we 
 meet the enemy we don't have to fight our bat-
 
 2 1 TRA NS FORM ED. 
 
 ties alone : there's One that fights for us, and 
 gives us the victory. My wife and I hain't got 
 book-learning, but we mean to know the Bible 
 all through ; and we find something new every 
 day. Since the parson was out to our house 
 one day, and explained about the wedding- 
 garment, how it was furnished by the One 
 who gives the feast, I've thought that these 
 wedding-garments given to us when we ac- 
 cepted the invitation were all alike. And then 
 I read about that one whom the master of the 
 feast told to go up higher, and I thought may- 
 be he had more ornaments on his robe. And 
 I thought that I'd like to get some ornaments 
 on my robe ; and so I am going to try to add 
 to my faith, virtue and all the rest that are 
 mentioned in that verse. And I think any- 
 body that gets all those will have something 
 better than the adornment of jewels." 
 
 Something was the matter with Mr. Man- 
 ning, and there were others who were touched 
 by this testimony of one so lately an outcast. 
 But presently a woman's voice was lifted in 
 prayer : it was a strange sound in that room,
 
 TRANSFORMED. 2 1 1 
 
 but I think many hearts were carried heaven- 
 ward in that hour. It was Mollie's voice, ten- 
 der, earnest, and pleading. The words were 
 simple as a child's words would be ; and more 
 than one wondered within themselves, " Who 
 taught that woman to pray ? " " Where did 
 she learn to use such pure language?" Ah! 
 she had been under the great Teacher ; she 
 had been studying the pure word of God ; she 
 had copied its style, and, too, she had there 
 learned what things she had need of ; and she 
 came direct to the source of supply, and asked 
 for what she wanted, without formality. The 
 burden of her prayer was for forgiveness for 
 the past, and for strength for each day's living. 
 There was a spirit of consecration and humble 
 trust which touched the heart of the pastor ; 
 and he said afterwards, as he talked it over 
 with his wife, " That woman may be ignorant, 
 but she has a most beautiful and childlike faith. 
 Would that we had more of it ! " 
 
 But a stranger thing was to happen in that 
 meeting. While Mrs. Barnard was praying, 
 Grace Norton sat in a tremble of anxiety. It
 
 212 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 was a foolish anxiety for Mollie. Mollie did 
 not need her sympathy, for she was not con- 
 scious of doing any thing out of the way ; but 
 Grace was saying to herself, " Now, if no other 
 woman takes a part in this meeting, Mrs. Bar- 
 nard will notice it, and feel annoyed about it 
 afterwards. Oh, how I wish some one would 
 follow her ! No one ever does : I never heard 
 a woman speak or pray in our prayer-meeting, 
 excepting old Mrs. Perkins. But I wonder what 
 the deacons and elders would say if I should 
 speak ! I am half a mind to : I am so sorry 
 for Mrs. Barnard ! " 
 
 I think that Mrs. Barnard would have smiled, 
 had she known of Grace Norton's thoughts ; 
 but she was never to know them, nor was she 
 ever to know that she had revolutionized that 
 prayer-meeting. The regular weekly meeting 
 of Waltham church was never to be just the 
 same after that evening. Grace Norton's 
 thoughts went on : " Why shouldn't I say a 
 word ? I always did when we lived in Peckham. 
 I don't suppose any one would object, but the 
 fact that it has not been the custom makes
 
 TRANSFORMED. 21 3 
 
 it seem queer. What if Jesus wants me 
 to ? " 
 
 Presently when Mr. Manning said for the 
 last time, 
 
 " Has any one else a word for the Master 
 before we close ? " 
 
 Grace said suddenly, 
 
 " Yes, I have ! I have lived in Waltham two 
 years, and attended this meeting week after 
 week, and I have never once spoken a word for 
 my Master. I gave myself to him four years 
 ago, and I have ever found his service a joy." 
 
 '"Whosoever shall confess me before men, 
 him will I confess also before my Father which 
 is in heaven.' " It was the pastor's voice that 
 repeated these words, as soon as Grace's voice 
 died away. 
 
 Then Mrs. Colonel Strong, having something 
 of the feeling for Grace which Grace had for 
 Mollie Barnard, repeated softly, 
 
 '"In thy presence there is fulness of joy; 
 at thy right hand there are pleasures for ever- 
 more.' " 
 
 "Seems to me, you and Grace took a new
 
 2 1 4 TRA NSFORMED. 
 
 departure to-night," said Lou Strong as she 
 and her mother walked home together. 
 
 " I think Mrs. Barnard was the one who led 
 off," replied Mrs. Strong. " I know Mr. Man- 
 ning has always wanted us all to feel free to 
 join in the exercises of the Thursday-evening 
 meeting ; but some way we have fallen out of 
 the habit of it, or we were never in the habit, 
 I don't know which. But to-night when Mrs. 
 Barnard, not knowing the ways of the people, 
 broke the ice, I thought it a good time to take, 
 as you say, a new departure." 
 
 To the credit of the brethren, let me record 
 that they stopped after the meeting to shake 
 hands with Mr. Barnard and his wife. One 
 brother said, 
 
 " I am glad, brother Barnard, that you found 
 strength to take up your cross to-night." 
 
 Mr. Barnard looked bewildered. "I don't 
 think I know what you mean. You know I 
 haven't learned all the ways of Christians yet : 
 I'm only a beginner." 
 
 " Why, I mean, I am glad you felt that you 
 I could take part in our meeting ; to some, that 
 seems a great cross."
 
 TRANSFORMED. 215 
 
 "Oh! I didn't understand at first. Well, 
 now, I dunno : I can't quite understand that. 
 I was down here once to a political meeting, 
 and I noticed that it wa'n't no cross for folks 
 to say what they wanted to. Everybody there 
 seemed to want to talk, and show what they 
 thought was the best way to push the interests 
 of the party. Some of you couldn't say enough 
 about your candidate, telling how much he had 
 done for the country. Now, it strikes me that 
 religion ought to go ahead of politics." 
 
 " Well, that is hardly a parallel case," said 
 the brother. 
 
 " Parallel ? Because a thing is in an upper 
 tier, ain't no reason why it can't be parallel," 
 said Barnard. " I didn't count on getting a 
 chance to speak in this meeting, because I 
 thought you'd all have so much to say, that 
 there would be no time for me ; but my wife 
 and I we thought it would be worth a good 
 deal to hear the experience of men who had 
 been serving the Master for years. I hope we 
 didn't either of us take time that somebody 
 else wanted."
 
 2 1 6 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 " Oh, no, brother Barnard ! we were glad to 
 hear from you," said the pastor. Then Thomas 
 followed his wife out, and as they went home 
 they talked of the meeting. 
 
 " It was a good place to be in," said Mollie. 
 
 "Yes, though it wa'n't just as I thought it 
 would be. I expected to see a room-full, and 
 thought everybody would have something to 
 say. I don't see how a man who loves the Lord 
 can keep still when the parson calls on 'em to 
 witness for the Lord." 
 
 "Well, I didn't think much about other peo- 
 ple," said his wife. " I felt that my Lord was 
 there, and that was enough for me ! I don't 
 think I could have prayed if I had remembered 
 about the people." 
 
 " I agree with you that it was a good place 
 to be in. I only mean that it seemed to me 
 that the others some of them didn't know 
 that the Lord was right there. If a man 
 knew that he was right in the presence of the 
 Lord Jesus Christ, how could he complain of the 
 withdrawal of his favor and of walking under a 
 cloud ? Why, I thought the way was never so
 
 TRANSFORMED. 21? 
 
 bright. It seemed as though everybody must 
 feel and almost see the Lord right there in the 
 midst." 
 
 " That sweet-faced girl knew he was there," 
 said Mollie. 
 
 Meantime a little knot of people were talking 
 of the new-comers. At last Mr. Manning said 
 as he turned away, 
 
 "Brethren, it behooves us to see to it that 
 we remove the stumbling-blocks out of the way 
 of these people. They are evidently expecting 
 to find in us the same mind which was also in 
 Christ Jesus."
 
 2 1 8 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 " But to do good and to communicate, forget not." 
 
 " I DON'T see any call for doing it. We have 
 never had a Christmas-tree since I've been in 
 the school." 
 
 " But that is no reason why we should not 
 have one if we want to," said Grace Norton. 
 
 "But I do not see any need of having one," 
 persisted Cora Butler. "It will be just an 
 awful bother, and we are all as busy as we can 
 be with our own Christmas work. I'm sure I 
 have enough to do. I'm making an elegant 
 screen for Fred, just perfectly elegant! 
 besides all the rest of my gifts. I can't see 
 how I could give a minute to a tree for the 
 Sunday school." 
 
 " Of course we are all pretty busy, but I 
 think we can put in a few hours' work for our
 
 TRANSFORMED. 2 1 9 
 
 church and Sunday school. You see, we have 
 some new scholars who never have any Christ- 
 mas at home, and it is thought that this will 
 encourage them." 
 
 " Who ? " 
 
 " Well, the Barnards for one family." 
 
 " Dear me ! They don't need encouragement. 
 They come every Sunday, rain or shine. 
 There's that little Nan, she plods along under 
 an old umbrella. The other morning I meant 
 to stay at home, it rained so hard, and my old 
 suit looked shabby, and I didn't want to get my 
 new velvet wet, so I planned to have a quiet 
 cosey time ; but don't you think, while I was 
 peeping through the blinds to see if that was 
 really Fred Gray going down in the rain, I saw 
 that little midget trudging along through the 
 mud ! If I had not seen her, it would have 
 been all right; but after that I just had to get 
 ready and go down to Sunday school. You 
 know she is in my class. No, indeed ! I don't 
 want to encourage the Barnards : they are too 
 much for me already." 
 
 " Well, little Nan hasn't lived in vain," said
 
 220 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 Lou Strong, "if she has for once stirred our 
 Cora from out of her self-indulgence." 
 
 "The Barnards may stir us all yet," said 
 Grace ; while Cora curled her lip slightly, and 
 said, 
 
 " I don't care to be stirred, as you say, by 
 that sort of people." 
 
 " No," retorted Lou : " Cora wants a more 
 aristocratic breeze to waft her way, if she must 
 be moved out of her complacency." 
 
 " But to come back to the subject," said 
 Grace. " We have the Barnards among us. and 
 there is another family that they have brought 
 with them from over that way ; and if they do 
 not need any encouragement to come, they need 
 to be taught about Christmas ; and we want to 
 give them a nice time, and make the birthday 
 of our Saviour an interesting time to them. 
 The fact is, I think we are a lazy set in our 
 church. I was over at Olympia for a week. 
 They are just wide awake over there : they have 
 a woman's missionary society, and a girls' band 
 and" 
 
 " Oh, yes, I know ! And Marian Kingsley
 
 TRANSFORMED. 221 
 
 wanted to run a band here, but I told her it was 
 of no use to try. You know the old folks 
 always run things here anyway." 
 
 "Well, let me finish my story. They have 
 a Sunday-school missionary society, and a tem- 
 perance band, and they are all just as wide 
 awake as they can be. And I want to tell you, 
 Cora Butler, that the girls do as much fancy- 
 work as you do, besides ! If we weren't half 
 asleep, we might do something as well as they. 
 I have been vexed a dozen times to think that 
 we didn't let Marian Kingsley go ahead, and 
 we follow on." 
 
 "Marian Kingsley has left her mark here," 
 said Lou Strong. " She got that little Nan 
 Barnard out, and Nan has moved upon the 
 hitherto unruffled waters of Cora Butler's soul ; 
 and who knows where it will end ? " 
 
 No one appeared to know where the idea of 
 having a Christmas-tree originated Grace Nor- 
 ton said to the girls, " We were talking about 
 it at Mr. Preston's the other evening." Then 
 presently it began to be remarked, " If we have 
 a tree for our Sunday school." You all know
 
 222 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 how such things sometimes grow from an idea 
 which lodges itself in the brain of some quiet 
 but determined worker : a remark here, another 
 there, and the thought gets a foot-hold in other 
 brains, and presently, when the public pulse 
 beats high with expectation and interest, there 
 comes a time for action. Grace Norton was a 
 demure little lady, but she was learning to man- 
 age Waltham people ; and she managed them 
 into having a Christmas-tree, and to this day 
 they do not know it. Whatever objection arose 
 found this ever-ready reply, "There's the little 
 Barnards, you know : we want to give them a 
 good time." 
 
 When Grace made this remark in her father's 
 hearing, he laughed and said, 
 
 " Why don't you young people say that you 
 want a good time yourselves, and that you will 
 let the Barnards in fora share ? Wouldn't that 
 be nearer the truth ? " 
 
 " No : I think we did start with the idea of 
 giving those poor children a good time, but we 
 are likely to enjoy it ourselves too." 
 
 " Why did you think of the Barnards ? "
 
 TRANSFORMED. 223 
 
 " Why ? Because they are so poor, and we 
 thought they would not be likely to have any 
 Christmas unless we gave it to them." 
 
 "Yes," replied Mr. Norton, "they are poor; 
 but Mr. Barnard pays more towards the minis- 
 ter's salary than I do." 
 
 " O father ! You don't mean it ! " 
 
 " It is true, Grace." 
 
 " But I don't understand. It ought not to be 
 true. If it is a fact, then Don't you think 
 it ought to be different ?" 
 
 "But would you be willing to make sacrifices, 
 for instance, to dress like the Barnards, for 
 the sake of having your father live up to the 
 Bible rule of giving a tenth of his income ? " 
 
 " A tenth ! I don't understand," said Grace. 
 
 " Why, many people nowadays think that the 
 old Jewish law of the tithe is still binding upon 
 the Church ; and many who do not believe it 
 is binding have adopted it, because they think 
 it a good rule, and about a fair proportion 
 for people with moderate incomes. Some way 
 our brother Barnard found out this rule, and 
 straightway adopted it ; and that is why he 
 {lives more than I do."
 
 224 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 " Father, I never heard of it before ; at least, 
 I never thought about it. But if it is the right 
 thing to do, then we must set about doing it. 
 We wouldn't have to dress quite like the Bar- 
 nards, either, for I know how to make pretty 
 things out of almost nothing. And anyway, if 
 it is right to give tenths, we must do it ! " 
 
 Ah, Thomas Barnard ! Who would have 
 thought that your influence would reach out, 
 and touch the heart of dainty Grace Norton, 
 and lead her to a consecration of a set portion 
 of her income to the cause of her Master? 
 Farther even than chat it reached : the princi- 
 ple having found a place in her own heart and 
 practice, she taught it to her Sunday-school 
 class, and who shall say where the influence 
 shall end ? 
 
 I do not propose to describe that Christmas- 
 tree, or to tell you about the exercises and the 
 enjoyments of the evening. These matters in 
 no wise differed from the usual order. But just 
 an incident or two connected with the festival 
 may show something of its effect upon one fam- 
 ily, and upon the young people themselves.
 
 TRANSFORMED. 22$ 
 
 Of course there were committee-meetings, and 
 it was wonderful how many of these Cora But- 
 ler managed to attend ; and, indeed, the interest 
 which she managed to get up over the affair 
 was a source of amused remark among the girls. 
 Said Lou Strong, 
 
 "I told you, Grace, that if you could get 
 Fred Gray into this thing, you would make a 
 good worker out of Cora Butler." 
 
 " Well, Cora is a good worker," replied Grace. 
 
 "Yes, only she wants her own way." 
 
 " So do the most of ,us." 
 
 " Maybe : we do not all show it quite so 
 plainly," said Lou. 
 
 Cora's love of having her own way was shown 
 in the discussion of the sort of gifts which 
 should be put upon the tree : 
 
 " I think we ought to give the Barnard chil- 
 dren useful things." 
 
 "Of course," said Lou: "we are all going to 
 have useful things. I am coaxing papa to give 
 me a diamond ring : I think that will be very 
 useful." 
 
 " I mean, that as they are so very poor, and
 
 226 TRANSFORMED, 
 
 probably need clothing, it would be very foolish 
 to give them such things as you are talking 
 about for the others." 
 
 " I do not agree with you exactly," replied 
 Grace. " To be sure, they are dressed very 
 plainly, but they do not seem to be in absolute 
 need." 
 
 "Well, I don't know. There's that little 
 Nan, she wears mittens to Sunday school, and 
 I don't believe she has a pair of gloves." 
 
 " Are gloves so important ? " and Grace held 
 up her own dainty mittens. " Now, it seems to 
 me that those children will enjoy gifts like the 
 other children, more than they would gifts of 
 clothing. If the family need help of that sort, 
 let the church be notified, and they can be 
 helped out of the poor-fund. But we'll give 
 them dolls and toys on the tree. There are 
 some lovely vases at Burton's, and I want to 
 get a pair for Mrs. Barnard." 
 
 "Vases ! Why, Grace Norton, do you know 
 what kind of a place those Barnards live in ? " 
 
 " I know that their house is a poor place 
 enough."
 
 TRANSFORMED. 22/ 
 
 " Well, I don't know where they would put 
 a pair of vases. Why, they haven't a thing to 
 correspond ! " 
 
 "Can't help it ! They need just such things 
 to help educate them. Even if they keep them 
 in a box under the bed, they will help. Those 
 children will prize a picture, or a bit of china, 
 because it is a gift ; and every time they bring 
 it out they will have a lesson of beauty and re- 
 finement ; and after a while they will begin to 
 think about a better house, and things to cor- 
 respond. And they will be working towards 
 better things every way." 
 
 " O Grace ! You are visionary ! " 
 
 Grace laughed " No, indeed ! I am a prac- 
 tical person, and as methodical as the multipli- 
 cation-table." 
 
 " Well, if you have any method by which you 
 can make twenty-five dollars do the work of one 
 hundred, we hope you will produce it." 
 
 " Never you fear ! I'll bring out all my meth- 
 ods as they are needed." 
 
 With much talk and some hard work, and I 
 think without any serious differences, the thing
 
 228 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 was accomplished ; and the girls met the next 
 morning to clear up, full of congratulations for 
 themselves and each other over their first effort. 
 
 " What a good time we have had all through ! " 
 said one and another. 
 
 " I wish we had gone on when Marian Kings- 
 ley was here, and organized a mission-band. 
 She knew all about how to do it. But I suppose 
 we could find out." 
 
 " Will you take the Barnards for your first 
 experiment ? " asked Cora Butler. 
 
 "Seems to me the Barnards rest heavily upon 
 your mind," said Lou Strong. " No, we won't 
 take them : we will stop nearer home. We will 
 try to convert you to a way of looking upon 
 poor people as of the same flesh and blood, and 
 having the same feelings, as we ourselves." 
 
 " What do you mean now ? " asked Cora, 
 "What dreadful thing have I been saying?" 
 
 " I'll tell you how your idea of gifts for poor 
 children worked," replied Lou. "Last night 
 when Stella Barnard's name was called, and she 
 had a lovely doll, Nan's face was a perfect 
 glow : she waited expectant until her name was
 
 TRANSFORMED. 229 
 
 called, and stood up to receive a pair of stock- 
 ings ! She looked ready to cry : I thought she 
 was going to throw them across the church." 
 
 " But she had a doll too," interrupted Cora. 
 
 " Yes : wait until I get through, please. I 
 am telling you this, so as to convince you that 
 your plan would not have worked well. Nan 
 had the stockings up ready to throw, when 
 Stella the little darling! whispered, 'Don't, 
 Nan ! you may have part of my dolly.' Then 
 she brightened, and admired and handled ten- 
 derly Stella's doll. But when her turn came 
 again, and she found she really had one of her 
 own, I truly thought the child would have to 
 be carried home on a stretcher, she looked so 
 white." 
 
 " O Lou ! how dreadfully you do exagge- 
 rate ! " said Grace. 
 
 " Well, I want to prove to Cora that the 
 Barnarcls don't need a missionary half as much 
 as some of us do," replied Lou, laughing. 
 
 Mrs. Colonel Strong was there, not to help, 
 but she had come in to look after certain arti- 
 cles which she had loaned the girls, and which
 
 230 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 she was sure Lou would forget. She had lin- 
 gered a little, watching the girls, and waiting 
 for the carriage ; and now she said, 
 
 " The oldest Barnard boy is in my class, you 
 remember ; and he tells me there are quite a 
 number of children and young people around 
 them and farther on across the swamp, who 
 never go to church or Sunday school because 
 they say it is too far to come here. I was 
 thinking it might be a good plan to start a 
 mission-school out there. There must be a 
 schoolhouse where you could hold the service. 
 I did more than think, for I asked the colonel 
 about it ; and he said that Patrick could drive 
 out every Sunday afternoon, and take three or 
 four teachers. Then, to make sure of Patrick, 
 I spoke to him ; and he said he had a brother 
 out there, and he had been wanting to get the 
 gospel to his family for a long time. Now, if 
 you young people want to take up the work out 
 there, the way is prepared so far. 
 
 "It seems," continued Mrs. Strong, "that 
 there is quite a settlement in the vicinity of the 
 sawmill, made up of the lumbermen's families
 
 TRANSFORMED 23! 
 
 and the wood-choppers. It is about a mile be- 
 yond Barnard's. The overseer at the mill 
 you know the colonel has an interest in the 
 property has a large family ; and though they 
 live respectably, they never go to church at all. 
 They could come here ; for they have the use of 
 a span of horses, and I presume go off driving 
 every Sunday. There's a work out there that 
 ought to have been taken up long ago." 
 
 Was that ice of aristocratic reserve in which 
 Waltham church seemed to have been incased, 
 about to be broken ?
 
 232 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 "What profit?" 
 
 CORA BUTLER had a friend from the city 
 spending a few days with her. It was Sunday 
 afternoon ; and Cora, who had donned a wrap- 
 per and slippers and taken to the couch imme- 
 diately after dinner, was saying, 
 
 " I am so tired ! That class will be the death 
 of me. I don't know why I was so foolish as 
 to undertake it. I never should have done it if 
 Mr. Manning and Mr. Williams had not urged 
 me. They made it appear that it was my duty. 
 I don't believe that it is a person's duty to do 
 a thing for which no talent has been given. 
 Now, I don't know any thing about teaching." 
 
 "But, Cora, I never supposed that it required 
 much talent to teach a Sunday-school class. 
 Why, the most of the people who teach in Sun-
 
 TRANSFORMED. 233 
 
 day school, whom I know any thing about, are 
 very commonplace sort of people." 
 
 " Commonplace or not, if they know how to 
 teach, they know more than I do. Why, some 
 of my little girls know more than I do. Now, 
 to-day the lesson was about Joseph, and that lit- 
 tle Miller girl said that Cleopatra's Needle was 
 supposed to have been standing before some 
 old temple in Egypt when Joseph was ruler. 
 Truly I didn't know what she was talking about. 
 Just think of it ! Of course I didn't let the 
 children see that I didn't know what she was 
 talking about, but all the same I didn't. And 
 that Barnard girl puzzles me with her questions. 
 I imagine that the whole family make a regu- 
 lar business of studying the lesson. I don't 
 get time to study it. We get up so late Sun- 
 day mornings, that there is scarcely time to get 
 ready for church. It takes me so long to comb 
 my hair ! I can spend an hour over the dress- 
 ing of my hair with the utmost satisfaction. I 
 don't know but I ought to give up that class. 
 I would, only Fred would laugh at me : he said 
 I would soon get tired of it, and I am tired to
 
 234 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 death of it ; but I hate to be laughed at, or to 
 hear him say ' I told you so ! ' I guess I'll go 
 on a while longer ; maybe I'll get along better. 
 I thought this morning, when I was hurrying 
 around trying to get a chance to see what the 
 lesson was about, that I would surely study 
 next Sunday's lesson this afternoon. But I 
 am too tired. I must find an hour for it during 
 the week." 
 
 " Don't you have teachers' meetings ? " asked 
 her friend. " I think they have them in our 
 church ; though, as I am not a teacher, I never 
 
 go." 
 
 " Oh, yes ! and Mr. Williams makes a great 
 fuss about them. He is forever at me to go, 
 and I promised that if possible I would go this 
 week ; but, as I came out of Sunday school, I 
 met Dell Northrup, and she stopped to say that 
 her cousin from Baltimore was spending a few 
 days with her, and she wanted to have a few 
 friends to meet her to-morrow evening. I 
 promised to go, and take you. Her cousin was 
 with her, and I was introduced : she is a very 
 stylish girl. Of course I will have to go there :
 
 TRANSFORMED. 235 
 
 it would not be courteous to decline. And I 
 am sorry that it is the night for the teachers' 
 meeting. The idea of teachers' meetings is some- 
 thing new here ; at least, I never heard of them 
 until lately. Seems as if our church was run- 
 ning a great many new things nowadays. It 
 makes one feel stirred up, and there is scarcely 
 an evening left for any thing outside of the 
 church. I don't know what has come over 
 the people." 
 
 The " few friends " who were invited to meet 
 the Baltimore cousin included Fred Gray, who 
 greeted Miss Butler with a bit of good-natured 
 sarcasm. 
 
 " I am surprised to meet you here, Miss 
 Cora : I supposed you would be at your teach- 
 ers' meeting." 
 
 " Because you do not do your duty at all, you 
 need not criticise me for half doing mine," she 
 retorted. " There's a great deal more reason 
 why you should be a Sunday-school teacher 
 than why I should." 
 
 " I don't know about that." 
 
 " I do. There's only one reason why you 
 should not be one, anyway."
 
 236 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 "And what is that?" 
 
 "You think too much of Fred Gray's com- 
 fort." 
 
 "I see," he replied, laughing, though he felt 
 the thrust ; " and you are ready to sacrifice self 
 upon the Sunday-school altar. It looks like 
 it!" 
 
 At breakfast the next morning, Mrs. Butler 
 inquired if they had a pleasant time ; to which 
 Cora responded, 
 
 " Oh, lovely ! Miss Blakeslee is charming. 
 And, mamma, do you think I can have just a 
 very few here to-morrow evening ? " 
 
 "I see no objection; that is, if you do not 
 wish a very elaborate entertainment." 
 
 "Nothing more than we can order from 
 Hummel's. We won't ask many ; and we'll 
 have dancing, and turn the little sewing-room 
 into a whist-parlor for the evening. There are 
 a few who always prefer a game to dancing." 
 
 " Very well," replied Mrs. Butler. 
 
 " It seems to me, Cora," remarked her guest, 
 " that you dance more here in Waltham than 
 you used to. I don't remember that we had
 
 TRANSFORMED. 237 
 
 dancing anywhere that I went, the last time I 
 visited you." 
 
 "Well, I think we do dance more, though 
 there are very few houses where it is intro- 
 duced even now." 
 
 " I noticed that your friend Mr. Gray did not 
 dance last evening." 
 
 " No : he says he has given up dancing. I 
 can't always tell just what he means. He says 
 he is getting old, and that dancing is unbecom- 
 ing in a staid business-man ; and he goes on 
 with a lot of nonsense about his dignity, and 
 all that. But I believe that Marian Kingsley 
 made a convert of him last winter." 
 
 In the course of the morning, Cora went out 
 to give some invitations ; and in giving an ac- 
 count of her calls and adventures she said, 
 
 " And don't you think, I met Mr. Williams ! 
 He said he expected to see me at the teachers' 
 meeting last evening. I told him how it was, 
 but some people are so stupid ! I really think 
 the man could not see that I had to go to Dell's. 
 He said that if one made it a point to go to the 
 meeting, and set Monday evening apart, it
 
 238 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 could be considered as an engagement, and 
 would be accepted as an excuse as much as a 
 party-engagement. Did any one ever hear such 
 stuff ! Of course it would be an easy way to 
 learn something about the lesson, if one could 
 only find the time to go ; but there is always 
 something coming up to prevent me from going. 
 I mean to try to get away next week, just to 
 see what the meeting that they make such an 
 ado about is like. But I am sure I don't know 
 how I am to get the lesson this week : we have 
 engagements up to Saturday." 
 
 " This evening," suggested Mrs. Butler. 
 
 " Oh ! didn't I tell you ? Fred invited us to 
 the concert over at Brighton. And, mamma, I 
 asked him to go early, so that I could run in to 
 Hummel's and give our order." 
 
 " That is very fortunate," replied Mrs. Butler. 
 "There seems to be considerable going on this 
 week. It is fortunate, Alice, that your visit 
 happened just now, for we are apt to be rather 
 dull here in Waltham. Is Mrs. Jewell's party 
 Thursday evening?" 
 
 " Yes ; and it will be a great bother, for of
 
 TRANSFORMED. 239 
 
 course we shall have to go to prayer-meeting 
 first. I wish things didn't mix so ! I hate to 
 dress for a party, and then go to church in a 
 great wrap to cover the party-dress. One gets 
 so mussed, and I like to go to parties fresh from 
 the toilet-room." 
 
 "But why do you have to go to prayer-meet- 
 ing this week ? " asked her friend. " If, as you 
 say, this is an unusual time, I suppose it does 
 not often happen that the two come together." 
 
 "Well, I have always been in the habit of 
 going to the Thursday-evening meeting, and I 
 should not feel quite easy in my conscience if 
 I did not go. And Mr. Manning would look at 
 me, the next time I saw him, if he knew and 
 he would know that I went to Mrs. Jewell's 
 and not to the meeting. Of course in a city it 
 would be different, but in a little place like this 
 everybody knows what everybody else is doing 
 every hour in the week." 
 
 As Cora said, the week was full of engage- 
 ments ; and it is no wonder that when Cora 
 Butler awakened the next sabbath morning, her 
 first words were, -
 
 240 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 " Dear me ! I am too tired to get up this 
 morning. If it were not for that Sunday-school 
 class, I would lie in bed. I have not looked at 
 the lesson. I thought I was going to have 
 time last evening, but I knew it would never 
 do not to accept Minnie's invitation after going 
 to the other places." 
 
 "But wasn't it a queer night for a party?" 
 queried her friend. 
 
 "Well, you see, Miss Blakeslee is going 
 home to-morrow morning ; and Minnie said, 
 when she gave the invitation, that she knew it 
 was a bad night, but we had been so full of 
 engagements all the week that she couldn't get 
 in a visit from Miss Blakeslee ; and as her 
 father and Judge Blakeslee were old friends, 
 she felt that she ought to pay her some atten- 
 tion ; and she said we would break up early. 
 But, dear me ! The clock struck twelve before 
 I dreamed it could be near that time. And 
 what a time we had getting away ! " 
 
 " Yes, there were so many last words, and so 
 many delays in the dressing-room. I peeped 
 at my watch just as we were, starting, and it 
 was one o'clock."
 
 TRANSFORMED. 241 
 
 " Yes," responded Cora; "and wasn't it dread- 
 ful to hear the clock chime out twelve, right in 
 the midst of the dancing! Oh, dear! I must 
 get up. I wonder what that lesson is about, 
 anyway. There's that book Miss Blakeslee 
 lent me : I haven't quite finished it. I must 
 run over the last chapter, and see how it ends ; 
 for I promised to leave it on the way to church 
 this morning. I read all the afternoon yester- 
 day while you were out with mamma, but I did 
 not quite finish it. One of my Sunday-school 
 scholars was here, and said her sister was sick 
 and wanted to see me. The idea ! What 
 would / say to a sick child ? I didn't know 
 but it might be some infectious disease ; and I 
 couldn't have gone anyway, for I had promised 
 to return that book this morning. I told the 
 boy to go to Mr. Manning: it is his business to 
 visit the sick. Pity sakes ! there goes the sec- 
 ond bell, and I am not half dressed. I shall 
 not get a minute to look at that lesson. If 
 Mr. Williams wouldn't make such a commotion 
 about it, I would teach them the Command- 
 ments or something that I do know about ; but
 
 242 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 he thinks the International Lesson whatever 
 that may mean must be taught anyway, 
 whether it is adapted to children or not. I 
 wonder if that child is very sick. I suppose 
 I ought to have gone : do you think I ought ?" 
 
 "I am sure I cannot judge: you certainly 
 would not want to run any risk of taking a 
 fever, or any thing like that." 
 
 " I know that's it," said Cora, catching at the 
 excuse. " I wonder why the child sent for me. 
 I am sure I haven't been such a faithful teacher 
 that any of my scholars should suppose I could 
 help them." 
 
 " But if she sent for you, she must have 
 wanted you. Perhaps your teaching is better 
 than you think." 
 
 " No, it isn't ! You know Cora Butler well 
 enough to know that she always thinks as well 
 as possible of herself. She is not particularly 
 humble or modest. But where is my Quarterly ? 
 I must take a look at the title of the lesson, if 
 no more." 
 
 Now, do you wonder that about this time Mr. 
 Williams said to his wife in a wearied tone,
 
 TRANSFORMED. 243 
 
 " I am quite discouraged about Miss Butler's 
 class, or perhaps I should say about Miss But- 
 ler. She disappoints me. Her class keeps up 
 as to numbers; and I think that, with all her 
 faults, there is material in her fora good teacher 
 if one could only get a chance to work it up, 
 and if her heart were in the work. She fasci- 
 nates the children, but I doubt if she teaches 
 them any thing to speak of. She says she can't 
 get time to study the lesson, and that she has 
 half a mind to give up the class. I almost 
 wish she were entirely of that mind. And yet 
 I cannot get rid of the impression that she 
 ought to stay. The truth is, she is more inter- 
 ested in affairs of society than in any thing 
 connected with the church. It has thus far 
 been impossible to get her out to the teachers' 
 meeting. She says she has so many engage- 
 ments ; and when I suggest that she should 
 make the meeting one of her engagements, she 
 looks at me with an astonished air, and says, 
 ' Impossible ! ' If only some influence could 
 be brought to bear upon her that would draw 
 her out of herself, and get her to think of some-
 
 244 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 body besides Cora Butler, she might yet make 
 a good teacher ; but at present there is no heart 
 in her work, and evidently very little prayerful 
 preparation, or, indeed, preparation of any sort 
 Oh for consecrated teachers ! "
 
 TRANSFORMED. 24$ 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 "What is thy petition? and it shall be granted thee." 
 
 MRS. COLONEL STRONG'S suggestion was not 
 forgotten. The young people of Waltham 
 some of them, at least had suddenly awak- 
 ened : their newly-found energies and talents 
 must have something to work upon, and this 
 scheme of a mission Sunday school promised 
 well in the line of hard work. 
 
 " I can tell you," said Grace Norton, " it will 
 not be a thing to take up when we feel like it. 
 It isn't like a Christmas-festival, that you work 
 hard for a few weeks or days, and then it is 
 over, and you have time to rest up ; but rain of 
 shine, sick or well, we must be at our post the 
 year round." 
 
 Cora Butler thought it would be quite too 
 much for those who had classes in the home
 
 246 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 Sunday school, to go out there and teach 
 another class. 
 
 " But you know we will teach the same les- 
 son in both places, and so have to make but 
 one preparation," said Grace. 
 
 " Oh ! it isn't the preparation," said Miss 
 Butler ; " but I am tired to death with teaching 
 one class." 
 
 "Whom can we get to act as superintend- 
 ent ? " asked Evelyn Baker ; adding the sug- 
 gestion, " Fred Gray would make a good one." 
 
 "You'll not get Fred Gray into it," said 
 Grace. " Why, he does not come to our own 
 Sunday school more than half the time : he 
 says he has to work so hard through the week 
 in the office, and often works late Saturday 
 evenings, that he needs to rest Sundays. You 
 know they wanted to put him in the librarian's 
 office ; but he would not accept, because he did 
 not want to feel obliged to go to church every 
 Sunday." 
 
 "We can ask him," said Evelyn. And they 
 did ask him ; but it turned out as Grace had 
 said, he was quite too busy a man to under- 
 take any thing more.
 
 TRANSFORMED. 247 
 
 "But you drive out almost every sabbath 
 afternoon," said saucy Lou Strong. " I should 
 think you might as well drive out to Kitson 
 district as anywhere, and help the girls a little 
 in their mission work." 
 
 Mr. Gray did not condescend to notice this 
 speech. 
 
 Lou Strong was not a Sunday-school teacher, 
 being much younger than our other friends of 
 this circle ; but she was greatly interested in 
 this new undertaking, and only wished she was 
 old enough to bear some of the responsibility, 
 and share the work. Her mother was some- 
 what of an invalid, and Lou was a sort of 
 assistant in her Sunday-school and benevolent 
 work : she often attended teachers' meetings 
 and committee-meetings as her mother's proxy, 
 and now and then taught the class as a sub- 
 stitute. Perhaps no girl in Waltham was hav- 
 ing better training in Sunday-school and church 
 work than Lou Strong. 
 
 Preliminaries were soon arranged. The con- 
 sent of the proper authorities to the use of the 
 schoolhouse was obtained ; arrangements were
 
 248 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 made about having it warmed every sabbath 
 afternoon ; the notice was circulated, that there 
 would be a Sunday school opened if there 
 should be a sufficient number who would pledge 
 themselves to attend. 
 
 " Now, about that ' sufficient number,' " said 
 Mrs. Strong. " Don't get your ideas too high : 
 if you have five who will attend your school, 
 let that encourage you to go on." 
 
 The Kitson schoolhouse was a substantial, 
 well-built structure, not very large. The over- 
 seer of the mill, and lumbermen, made quite a 
 settlement, besides several thrifty farmers who 
 lived just a little beyond the wood-region. 
 This wood-tract was rapidly clearing up, and 
 being transformed into farms. The people in 
 that vicinity seldom went to church : of many 
 families it could be said that they never went. 
 Through the summer the men lounged about, 
 or went fishing or hunting, while the boys 
 often indulged in a game of base-ball. In win- 
 ter they lounged about still more, and drank 
 hard cider and smoked vile tobacco in their 
 own or their neighbor's kitchen, or sitting-room
 
 TRANSFORMED. 249 
 
 if there was one. The women spent a little 
 extra time over the Sunday dinner, and per- 
 haps, dressed in their holiday attire, gossiped 
 with their neighbors, over the door-yard fence 
 in summer, and around the fire in company 
 with their husbands in the winter. 
 
 If there was not much drunkenness among 
 them, there certainly was not strict temper- 
 ance ; and there was much profanity and vul- 
 garity. On the whole, it was not a very 
 encouraging field which these young enthusi- 
 asts had undertaken to work. 
 
 The trio who went out to this forlorn place 
 that first sabbath were Grace Norton and 
 Evelyn Baker, with Mrs. Preston. The move- 
 ment was an independent one. The officers of 
 the church had been consulted, but they did 
 not think the field worth cultivating ; at least, 
 so it appeared, for they offered no help and 
 no encouragement. Mr. Williams, the superin- 
 tendent, was interested, but he had been ill 
 for several weeks. Mr. Manning encouraged 
 and helped by his wise suggestions, and said, 
 " Take up the work, and command me in any 
 way you need."
 
 250 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 Perhaps, among that group of people who 
 welcomed by their presence those who had 
 come to start a regular Christian service in 
 that destitute neighborhood, there were none 
 so sunken in poverty and degradation as the 
 Barnards had been ; yet there was to be found, 
 especially among the children, the most deplo- 
 rable ignorance. Among the number of the 
 youngest that gathered around Grace Norton, 
 there were several who had never heard of God 
 as a creative Being. They had heard the name 
 as it fell from the lips of wicked, profane men ; 
 but of God as their Creator, their Father, and 
 of Jesus Christ as a Saviour, of his death on 
 the cross, they had not heard. The Bible had 
 been excluded from the school in that district, 
 and now some of those children heard it read 
 for the first time ! 
 
 Evelyn Baker acted as superintendent. The 
 girl had passed through a struggle before she 
 made up her mind that she could do it. 
 
 " I could manage every thing but the 
 prayer," she said in talking it over with Mrs. 
 Preston and Grace. " I have never prayed
 
 TRANSFORMED. 2$ I 
 
 before any one since I left school. We used 
 to have a girls' prayer-meeting there ; and Miss 
 Mills used to say, 'Girls, you may some time be 
 called upon to pray in the presence of others, 
 and you ought to become accustomed to the 
 sound of your own voices, for it is your voice 
 that frightens you more than the people.' 
 And then she used to say, ' You are always in 
 the presence of God : why should you fear or 
 shrink from praying before other people?' 
 But I am afraid I cannot do it." 
 
 But Mrs. Preston was sure she could not ; 
 and Grace, who was younger than Evelyn, said 
 she should be frightened to death, and, besides, 
 Evelyn was the oldest. And so, after a wake- 
 ful night, and earnest prayer for strength, 
 Evelyn Baker opened the Kitson Sunday 
 school with prayer. And it was a prayer! 
 Evelyn Baker had given herself to this work, 
 not in a flash of enthusiasm which would fade 
 away as quickly as it had come, but in the still 
 hours of that wakeful night she had battled 
 with the tempter, and come off conqueror. 
 How Satan had striven for the mastery over
 
 252 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 that heart ! How he had argued, setting be- 
 fore her all the discouragements of the field, 
 the apathy of the church, and the opposition 
 they would be likely to meet with from various 
 sources! Then he had whispered, "It is not 
 your place to do this thing. If there is no 
 man who will take hold of it, it is clear that it 
 ought not to be undertaken. Anyway, if a 
 woman must do it, it should be an older per- 
 son : a young woman should not make herself 
 conspicuous. What will those people out there 
 think of a girl setting herself up to lead in 
 prayer, and conduct a service ? " and so on, 
 repeating over and over all the old arguments 
 which he has used from the hour our first 
 parents were beguiled by his wiliness. And at 
 last, worn and weary, Evelyn threw herself 
 upon her knees, and cried, " Father in heaven, 
 here am I ; use me as thou wilt ! " And in 
 that moment Satan vanished. And in all the 
 months and years of work in that neighbor- 
 hood, Evelyn's was the leading spirit. 
 
 Mrs. Preston and Grace were efficient help- 
 ers, and the work grew and prospered. The
 
 TRANSFORMED. 253 
 
 attendance that first sabbath was good. Some 
 came out of curiosity, and some were glad and 
 eager to learn. There were mothers who re- 
 membered their childhood's teaching, and wel- 
 comed this opportunity for their children. As 
 the warm weather came again, Evelyn and 
 Grace scoured the neighborhood in search of 
 recruits for the Sunday school, and here Grace 
 Norton's peculiar talent for managing people 
 came into play : where Evelyn would have 
 failed, she won promises, and brought in new 
 scholars. It began to be noticed that there 
 were fewer fishing-excursions and less ball- 
 playing than usual. 
 
 From the beginning they had sighed for 
 some one to help in the singing, realizing what 
 a power there is in song. And in their visits 
 they found out that there was a young man 
 staying in the neighborhood who was a fine 
 singer ; and when Grace asked him to come 
 the next Sunday, and help along the singing, 
 he replied that he would come and sing if that 
 was all they would ask of him. 
 
 " I would have come in before ; but I was
 
 254 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 afraid you would ask me to teach a class, or 
 lead in prayer." 
 
 "Well," said Grace, "what if we did ?" 
 
 " I couldn't do it, and I would stay away if 
 you did. Indeed, I won't go at all unless you'll 
 promise." 
 
 " You are a Christian ? " asked Grace. 
 
 " Well, I am a member of the church, but I 
 am not a talking Christian. But I will sing if 
 you will be satisfied with that." 
 
 " Very well, we will try to be satisfied ; and 
 I assure you, that whether we are or not, we 
 won't ask you to do any thing else." 
 
 And so Herman Redinger came, and brought 
 another young man with him ; the two making 
 a wonderful improvement in the singing. 
 
 " Now if we only had an organ ! " sighed 
 Grace. 
 
 Mrs. Preston and Evelyn laughed. "Wish 
 for the moon while you are about it," said 
 Evelyn. 
 
 " No ; for I'd have no hope of getting it, and 
 it would be useless if I had it. But I have 
 hope of getting an organ for our school."
 
 TRANSFORMED. 255 
 
 "I am afraid your hopes have a poor founda- 
 tion," said Mrs. Preston. " I do not know of 
 any thing that seems more improbable." 
 
 "Tell us how you expect to get it," said 
 Evelyn. 
 
 " I do not know how it will be done ; but we 
 need it, and we will have it ! The first thing 
 is to pray for it ; and I want you two people to 
 think it over until you realize the need, and 
 then exercise faith, and pray that the way may 
 be opened for us to get it." 
 
 " O Gracie, what a queer girlie you are ! " 
 said Mrs. Preston. 
 
 " Well, don't you see that music is our best 
 bait ? We sing very well ; but an instrument 
 would give us great help, and make our school 
 more attractive. And we must attract and 
 hold those boys ; and we will have an organ ! " 
 
 The others laughed, but the thought staid 
 with them ; and somehow both Mrs. Preston 
 and Evelyn found the thought framing itself 
 into words when they knelt to pray. Grace 
 was sowing the seed of her latest enterprise : 
 would it bear an organ for the Kitson school ?
 
 256 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 One other thing she did. She took from 
 her drawer a pocket-book which had been her 
 mother's; and taking not from her "tenths," 
 but from her slender amount of pocket-money 
 twenty-five cents, she placed it in the old 
 pocket-book, and knelt to ask God to bless and 
 increase the organ-fund. And very soon after 
 that, people began to hear remarks about the 
 Kitson organ-fund ; and that is how it began. 
 
 The weeks and months rolled around, and 
 the time for the cummer gathering of the 
 Waltham Sunday school came ; and Evelyn 
 Baker and her co-workers believed that the 
 hour had come when the Kitson school should 
 be recognized as a mission or branch of the 
 home school, and taken under the care of the 
 church. It was a bold move, and they were 
 somewhat doubtful of success ; but they re- 
 solved to set the matter before the leaders of 
 the church. Mr. Williams and Mr. Manning 
 had been out to the school several times, and 
 both believed that a good work was going on 
 there. All the workers asked was, that they 
 should be acknowledged, and be given the pres-
 
 TRANSFORMED. 257 
 
 tige of the name, and be supplied with lesson- 
 leaves. And so it came about, that at the 
 annual picnic the Kitson school joined in the 
 procession, and carried its own banner. 
 
 There was a great deal said about the organ- 
 fund that day. Already the money had begun 
 to come in. There were other twenty-five- 
 cent pieces in that old pocket-book ; and there 
 were half-dollars and dollars, and one five-dollar 
 gold piece. That last had a history. 
 
 Reg Barnard had been at work for Colonel 
 Strong for a few days, and when the colonel 
 came to pay him the boy asked to be paid in 
 small change ; and, watching to find out what 
 he meant, the colonel noticed that Reg put as 
 many ten-cent pieces as he had dollars in a 
 separate division of his pocket-boolc 
 
 " Why do you do that ? " he asked. 
 
 " Oh ! that is my tenths," replied the boy ; 
 "and I am going to stop and give it to Miss 
 Grace Norton as I go home, for the organ- 
 fund." 
 
 Tenths ! Organ-fund ! What was the boy 
 talking about ?
 
 258 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 " What is the organ-fund ? " asked Colonel 
 Strong. 
 
 Then Reg explained about the organ, and 
 the fund which Miss Grace had started. 
 
 "And do you give a tenth of all you earn 
 to that ? " asked the colonel. 
 
 " N6, not always to that ; but I give it to 
 something, and I thought I would put it into 
 the fund this time. Miss Grace is so set upon 
 having the organ, and it seems as though it 
 would be a good thing." 
 
 " You think it is needed ? " 
 
 " Yes. You see, there's a lot of fellows over 
 there who would go anywhere and do almost 
 any thing for the sake of hearing good music, 
 and they say Miss Baker plays splendid ! So, 
 you see, if we could get an organ, maybe we 
 could get them fellows into the Sunday school." 
 
 " I see." After a few more questions for the 
 sake of drawing Reg out, Colonel Strong said, 
 taking out his pocket-book, 
 
 " See here, Reg, I must have a share in that 
 organ ; give this to your treasurer," handing 
 Reg the five-dollar gold piece.
 
 TRANSFORMED. 259 
 
 Sometimes when Grace was happy over a 
 small contribution to her fund, the others would 
 say, "At this rate, Grace, we shall all be old 
 and gray-headed before we get the organ." 
 That they were to have it some time, they 
 seemed to think was assured ; but none of 
 them looked for it at once. They believed 
 that God had heard their prayer for this aid in 
 their work, but they did not count upon an 
 immediate answer ; even Grace herself did not 
 look for it quite so soon. After that time she 
 used to say that she had learned that God had 
 ways of working that she knew not of, and of 
 which it was not needful that she should know. 
 
 There was a stranger at that picnic. At 
 least, he was a stranger to the young people : 
 many of the older ones remembered Dick Slat. 
 Oh, yes, they remembered him well ! a rol- 
 licking, good-for-nothing boy, who had been 
 wont to spend days kicking his heels against 
 the sides of a dry-goods box outside the prin- 
 cipal store of Waltham ; whose sole recreation 
 had seemed to be in trading jack-knives or 
 balls or pencils with some other good-for-noth-
 
 260 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 ing. Dick was always ready for a trade, and 
 knew how to make a good one : yet it could 
 be said of him with truth, that he was honest. 
 He never cheated : he always told every thing 
 just as it was. But if he was ready to tell the 
 demerits of his own property, he could see the 
 demerits in the property of the boy with whom 
 he was driving a bargain. If he never cheated, 
 he never allowed himself to be cheated. His 
 real name was Richard Slatham, which had 
 been shortened to Dick Slat. 
 
 One afternoon years and years ago, Dick 
 announced to his friends of the dry-goods box 
 his intention of going away. They laughed, 
 but he insisted. 
 
 "This is no place for trading," he said ; "and 
 I am going off, out West, I guess. I am 
 honest : this is the last you will see of me in 
 this town until I get rich. Somebody else will 
 have to kick their heels against this old box, 
 and somebody else will have to manage the 
 jack-knife business for this little town. Some 
 day I'll come back, and you'll wonder if Dick 
 -Slat I mean, the great Richard Slatham
 
 TRANSFORMED. 26 1 
 
 remembers the boy he last traded with in Wal- 
 tham. But I'll remember, boys, I'll remember ! 
 Good-by, boys ! " And he went off, laughing. 
 
 But, sure enough, the next morning Dick 
 was missing. I do not mean that he ran away 
 fron home : he had no home to run away from. 
 For two or three years he had "hung up," as 
 he expressed it, almost anywhere, doing odd 
 jobs, staying a while in one place, and a little 
 longer perhaps in another ; and having, as he 
 again expressed it, "gone the rounds," he con- 
 cluded to take himself off to some place where 
 trading was better. 
 
 And now, twenty-five years later, he had 
 come back. Evidently he had found a place 
 where trade was good, for he had come back a 
 millionnaire. He had sought out the boy with 
 whom he last traded, and many others of his 
 old companions. Some he found in the old 
 graveyard, and some had moved away ; but 
 there were enough left to give him a warm 
 welcome. How it would have been if he had 
 come back poor, I cannot say. As it was, 
 many a home was open to him, and many were.
 
 262 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 ready to claim him as an old acquaintance. 
 Well, this elegant gentleman, somewhat under 
 middle age, was present at the sabbath service 
 in the old church where he worshipped in his 
 boyhood. He went to the Sunday-school pic- 
 nic, and seemed to enjoy every thing thoroughly. 
 Especially he enjoyed the boys. Some of his 
 old cronies said, " Why, Dick, you are as much 
 of a boy as ever ! " And he made reply, " Yes, 
 it was staying a boy that saved me ! I have 
 never been able to get away from my mother's 
 voice as she used to say, ' Sonny, remember ! ' 
 Old-fashioned as the expression is, I hear it 
 sometimes ; and it always gives me a start, and 
 I feel like answering to the call." 
 
 In the course of the day, Mr. Slatham heard 
 something about the Kitson organ-fund. He 
 caught at that name " Kitson." 
 
 "What is this I hear about a Kitson organ ?" 
 he asked of a gentleman with whom he was 
 walking. The gentleman laughed and said, 
 
 " I reckon there is more about it than in it. 
 But here's Grace : she will tell you, and get 
 hold of your pocket-book, too, if possible." And
 
 TRANSFORMED. 263 
 
 Grace, arrested in her course, was introduced 
 to the distinguished stranger, and requested to 
 tell him all about the Kitson organ-fund ; and 
 Grace told her story. 
 
 "My mother's name was Kitson," said Mr. 
 Slatham ; " and I suppose the Kitson district 
 was named after her father. I should like to 
 have a hand in that organ. Will you tell me 
 how much you need ? " 
 
 Grace, trembling, told him how much they 
 wanted to raise, and how much she had already 
 gathered. "We have not done much," she 
 said ; "but we thought if we made a beginning 
 we should get enough after a while." 
 
 " Yes, I see. Well, here is a draft on New 
 York : it is rather larger than you will need, 
 but I happen to have no smaller one with me. 
 And see here, you need a library for that 
 school : you can use the rest of the money for 
 that purpose." 
 
 Grace was overwhelmed, and tried in vain to 
 express her thanks. When she did find her 
 voice, she said among other things that if he 
 was willing, the library should be called the 
 Slatham Library. But he replied,
 
 264 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 " No, let it be the Kitson Library. I like that 
 name, Kitson organ and Kitson Library. I 
 am going to have a monument put over my 
 mother's grave, but she will have the best and 
 most enduring monument out in the Kitson 
 district. Thank you for giving me this oppor- 
 tunity of honoring her name." 
 
 And the rich Mr. Slatham went away the 
 next day, having done the work for which he 
 was sent to Waltham. And Grace said, 
 
 " Only think ! Three days ago we had never 
 heard of Mr. Slatham. I suppose that God 
 knew all the time how he was going to answer 
 our prayer."
 
 TRANSFORMED. 265 
 
 % CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 "They helped every one his neighbor." 
 
 THAT second summer of the new life of the 
 Barnards was a busy one. Reg, now nearly 
 fourteen, had profited by the hint of Mr. Man- 
 ning in regard to raising vegetables. 
 
 One day during the previous autumn, he 
 came home full of a new idea. Mrs. Strong 
 had offered to lend him a newspaper, any one 
 of their papers which he might choose; and "I 
 thought I would take one of the papers that 
 tells about gardening, for if I am going to do 
 any thing at it, I want to learn all I can." And 
 Mrs. Strong had selected an armful of back 
 numbers which she said would help him as 
 much as the new ones, though he might have 
 the paper every week. And through the long 
 winter evenings Reg studied his papers until
 
 266 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 he felt pretty well informed as to the theory 
 of gardening, and was quite impatient for the 
 hour to come when he might begin work. 
 
 The little garden was enlarged and carefully 
 prepared. The soil was a rich mould ; and the 
 seeds which Reg had saved the previous sum- 
 mer, and a few which he had bought, and others 
 that had been given him by kind neighbors 
 who were watching his experiments with inter- 
 est, had every inducement to grow. And they 
 did grow ; and Reg was a happy boy when he 
 carried his basket of early lettuce and radishes 
 to the village, where he found a ready sale for 
 all he could supply : indeed, he could have sold 
 much more, and all through the season the de- 
 mand for fresh vegetables exceeded the supply ; 
 and Reg resolved to enlarge his operations 
 another year. 
 
 The little strawberry-patch yielded abun- 
 dantly, and Reg was able to supply two or 
 three families with a few boxes daily. And as 
 one and another admired the large, luscious 
 berries, and asked for them, Reg made another 
 resolve : If his father were willing, he would set
 
 TRANSFORMED. 267 
 
 out strawberry-roots on that other sandy knoll. 
 And of course his father was willing ; and he 
 foresaw that the time was coming when he 
 would no longer work as a day-laborer for his 
 neighbors, but if Reg's plans were all carried 
 out he would have work enough at home. 
 
 Sam was not able to work much at garden- 
 ing, and he and the younger children went to 
 school. Reg would go in the winter, but his 
 garden kept him at home for the summer. He 
 spent as much time as possible reading ; espe- 
 cially he read every thing he could get hold of 
 upon gardening. The paper which Mrs. Strong 
 gave him after they were through with it was a 
 good one, and Reg grew more and more in love 
 with his work. There was one particular issue 
 that he had carefully put away, though he often 
 brought it out to look at the picture of his 
 dream. There it was, that pretty house, 
 with its pleasant, well-kept lawn and flower- 
 garden on one side, and a vegetable-garden 
 stretching away in the rear. How well he 
 knew every detail ! the house with all its 
 conveniences, its good-sized bedrooms, its little
 
 268 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 parlor. Would they ever have a parlor ? There 
 was a young girl standing upon the piazza in 
 the picture, and a man at work in the garden. 
 Just so it was in his dream. Would Nan or 
 Essie ever have a piazza to stand in, and would 
 they look like that ? He thought so, and it all 
 seemed not so very far away. Even Nan's 
 little flower-border was helping towards the 
 fulfilment of his dream. 
 
 One morning as he was starting for the vil- 
 lage with his well-filled basket, Nan ran after 
 him with a pretty bunch of flowers. 
 
 "There!" she said, "put this on top. You 
 can smell the sweet-peas all the way, and it 
 makes the basket look pretty too." 
 
 As he was serving Mrs. Hunter with the first 
 tomatoes of the season, she exclaimed, 
 
 " Sweet-peas ! Why, I haven't seen any since 
 I lived in the old home. What do you ask for 
 those ? " 
 
 Reg was taken by surprise, but not thrown 
 quite off his guard. His very first impulse 
 would have prompted him to say that they were 
 not for sale, but that he would give them to her.
 
 TRANSFORMED. 269 
 
 But he did not say that : they were Nan's flow- 
 ers, and if they were worth any thing she ought 
 to have pay for them ; and he replied after a 
 moment's hesitation, 
 
 " I do not know what they are worth : if you 
 want them, you may pay what you would have 
 to pay anywhere else. We are only just mak- 
 ing a beginning with flowers, and these are the 
 first I have brought in." 
 
 " I must have them : will ten cents be 
 enough ? " 
 
 Reg thought so, and said, "We have beauti- 
 ful scarlet beans and white candytuft that go 
 prettily together, and I will bring some in the 
 next time I come." 
 
 " Do. And see here, are there any partridge- 
 berry vines in the woods out there ? You know 
 what I mean, long trailing vines with small 
 round leaves, and tiny pinkish flowers, real 
 fragrant, and bright red berries ? " 
 
 " Oh, I know ! There's lots of 'em." 
 
 "Well, bring me some, with a plat of fresh 
 moss, if you can." 
 
 And now Nan was a business woman ! Mrs.
 
 2/0 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 Hunter was well pleased with her scarlet-bean 
 blossoms mixed with the contrasting white can- 
 dytuft ; and the plats of moss with the trailing 
 vines and scarlet berries found other admirers 
 than Mrs. Hunter, and, what was more to the 
 point, other purchasers. The income from this 
 source was not large, for Nan's supply of flow- 
 ers was even more limited than the purchasers ; 
 but it was a hint of what might be done in the 
 future. 
 
 That next winter found the Barnards much 
 more comfortable in every respect than ever 
 before. Thomas had often said, "We must 
 have a new house : just as soon as we get the 
 land paid for, we will build." And though it 
 might be long before the new house would shel- 
 ter them, they would get out Reg's paper, and 
 study the plan which suited them all. It was 
 all down there, the kind of lumber used, and 
 the cost of the whole when finished. 
 
 " It is just the thing," Mollie would say ; 
 " but, land ! it will take years to save all that 
 money." 
 
 " Not so very many years," Reg would reply.
 
 TRANSFORMED. 2/1 
 
 " You see, we shall be earning more and more 
 every year, and we shall save quite a nice little 
 sum this year." 
 
 " We might build the wing part, say next 
 year," said Thomas. " People often do that, 
 and it would make us more comfortable than 
 the old house. Then we could put up the up- 
 right, and put on the piazza, when we could get. 
 money enough." And after that, they began to 
 talk about the house they were to build " next 
 summer." There was to be a good-sized liv- 
 ing-room, with a bedroom and a pantry, on the 
 first floor ; and above, there were to be three 
 bedrooms ; and there was to be a cellar too. 
 
 " We will dig the cellar this fall," said 
 Thomas. "The colonel says I can have the 
 stone from the house that was burned last win- 
 ter : he is not going to build up there again, 
 and wants to clear away the rubbish. It will 
 be only a mile to draw the stone ; and the col- 
 onel said, if I would take Dobson's place in the 
 mill while he is away, he will let me have his 
 team for a few days." 
 
 Thomas did not know that he had to thank
 
 272 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 Mrs. Strong for this generous offer. That lady 
 had been out to call upon her Sunday-school 
 scholar; and, seeing what a poor hovel they 
 lived in, she had suggested to her husband that 
 he should be on the look-out for opportunities 
 to help the Barnards to a new house. And 
 what Mrs. Strong suggested to her husband 
 was likely to be carried out ; though he only 
 laughed, and said, arching his eyebrows, " So 
 you've taken up the Barnards ! " But she was 
 satisfied that he would find a way to do what 
 she desired, and the offer of the stone for the 
 cellar grew out of this talk. 
 
 And so during the fall, Thomas and Reg 
 began to dig the cellar. The spot selected for 
 the new house was near the centre of their lot. 
 In this selection they were advised by Colonel 
 Strong, who said, " The ground is higher there, 
 and you want to put your house in the most 
 healthful spot. Besides, if you follow out the 
 plan which Reg has chosen, there may come a 
 day when you will be glad of a wide lawn in 
 front. Just for the present you will not need 
 to take up room for a carriage-drive if you
 
 TRANSFORMED. 2/3 
 
 manage to draw your wood in the fall when 
 you have no produce on the ground ; so you 
 can use all the land for your garden, just as 
 well as if the house stood closer to the street." 
 
 Then, again, the colonel suggested, " I would 
 not pull down the old shanty just yet. You 
 may have a cow before you feel able to build a 
 barn, and you could use the place for a stable ; 
 or you may need it to store vegetables in." 
 
 The work on the cellar was progressing when 
 the colonel rode over to the mill one August 
 day ; on his way back, he stopped to talk with 
 Mr. Barnard. 
 
 " Why don't you build your wing this fall ? " 
 he asked. 
 
 " Because we haven't the money to pay for 
 it," replied Thomas. "We have only just made 
 out to pay for the land this year, and a little 
 more." 
 
 " You can build much cheaper now than in 
 the spring." 
 
 " I suppose so, but there's no use in talking : 
 we can't do it." 
 
 " I am not so sure of that. Why, man, you
 
 2/4 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 can never get through the winter comfortably 
 in that old shell ! " 
 
 "Then we must get through it uncomfort- 
 ably." 
 
 " Well," continued the colonel, "you know it 
 is rather dull times just now, and I have a 
 couple of men in my employ who are idle ; and 
 there's a lot of lumber there at the mill just 
 rotting down, and it is pretty good too. Now, 
 I have to pay the men, whether they work or 
 not, for they are hired by the year; and I have 
 to feed the mill-teams, even if there's nothing to 
 do : so you see, my friend, that now is the time 
 for that house to go up." 
 
 Then the colonel went on to lay before Mr. 
 Barnard a proposition so much to the latter's 
 advantage that he could not fail to see it. 
 
 " You see," said Colonel Strong, " that I run 
 all the risk ; but I am willing to take it, and 
 shall be very glad to have you accept my prop- 
 osition." 
 
 Thomas hesitated ; and the colonel continued, 
 " The fact is, Barnard, my wife and I have taken 
 a liking to that boy of yours, and think that he
 
 TRANSFORMED. 275 
 
 ought to have a chance to make something of 
 himself. I hope, for your family's sake, you 
 will think favorably of this plan." 
 
 Mr. Barnard's face flushed with pleasure. 
 " Reg is a smart boy," he said ; " and if he likes 
 the plan I guess we will go into it. It will 
 be getting out of the old hut sooner than we 
 expected." 
 
 "Yes, but none too soon." 
 
 When, two months later, the family took 
 possession of the new house, their delight was 
 beyond any expression. 
 
 It was curious, how many ways of helping 
 the Barnards Mrs. Colonel Strong found with- 
 out trampling upon their growing independence. 
 One day she sent for Reg. Their man Robert 
 was sick, and she wanted to go to the city ten 
 miles away. She could drive her own pony, 
 but she needed some one to hold the horse 
 while she shopped or made calls. 
 
 " I know you are very busy," the message 
 ran ; " but I will pay you well if you can possibly 
 be spared." 
 
 " Be sure you do not set any price for your
 
 276 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 day's work," said Thomas as his boy was start- 
 ing : " I'd let you go anyway, to accommodate 
 the colonel's wife." 
 
 That was a wonderful day to Reg. He had 
 never been in the city, and every thing was 
 strange to him ; but he was able to do all that 
 was required, and Mrs. Strong was more pleased 
 than ever. As they were going home, she 
 asked, 
 
 "When do you expect to get into the new 
 house ? " 
 
 " The men say we can go in the first of the 
 month." 
 
 " I suppose you will be glad." 
 
 " Yes : the old house was pretty cold last 
 winter, and pretty crowded too." 
 
 " What sort of a stove have you ? " 
 
 " Not a very good one." 
 
 " That's a pity. You ought to have a good 
 stove, going into a new house. The house will 
 be somewhat damp, and good fires will remedy 
 that. And then, if your stove smokes, it will 
 spoil the looks of your walls very soon." 
 
 Reg assented to these remarks, but he did
 
 TRANSFORMED. 277 
 
 not know that any thing could be done. But 
 his companion did. " I'll tell you," she said. 
 " We are going to put a new range into our 
 kitchen : that was a part of my business in the 
 city to-day, to look at one my husband likes. 
 We intended to sell our stove for old iron, 
 though it is almost as good as new. You see, 
 we want to put in a range to burn coal, and this 
 is a wood-stove. Now, if my husband is will- 
 ing, you shall have the stove for the same it 
 would bring for old iron ; and it will last your 
 people for years. I told the colonel that it 
 seemed as if he might sell it at second-hand ; 
 but he said there, was never any chance for that, 
 and he couldn't go about peddling a stove, and 
 that the best way was to take it to the place 
 where they buy old iron, and tumble it in. But 
 I think you ought to have it. Now, you have 
 done exactly the same work that Robert would 
 have done to-day, and if you take care of my 
 horse for me when we get home I shall pay you 
 the same that he receives. What do you think 
 of a man's wages ? " she said, laughing. 
 
 " I think you ought not to pay me any thing,"
 
 278 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 said Reg. " I have had such a good time, and, 
 besides, you bought my dinner." 
 
 "And wouldn't I have to give Robert his 
 dinner?" asked Mrs. Strong, laughing. "And, 
 as for your having a good time, that can't be 
 helped. If you could get a good time out of a 
 job that Robert would have growled over, I am 
 glad of it." 
 
 Of course the colonel was willing to dispose 
 of the old stove, but he suggested a trade. He 
 would take Mr. Barnard's stove in place of his. 
 Probably that would bring as much for old iron 
 as the other, and it would be an easier way of 
 arranging it : it would save weighing, and it 
 could be brought over and set up in the new 
 house as soon as they had their range put in ; 
 and with a little fire the house would be getting 
 dry before they moved in. And so it was ar- 
 ranged ; and, on the whole, Mrs. Strong felt quite 
 satisfied with the result of her manoeuvring. 
 The stove proved to be a good heater ; and with 
 the pipe running up through the girls' room, 
 and the door open from the boys' room, the 
 whole house was made comfortable. Reg was
 
 TRANSFORMED. 2/9 
 
 in a fair way to see the realization of his ambi- 
 tion, to live like other folks ! True, the fur- 
 niture was scanty and plain ; but it was neat, 
 and various home-made contrivances added to 
 the comfort of the family. 
 
 The day they moved into the new house hap- 
 pened to be little Nan's birthday ; and Grace 
 Norton and Lou Strong, having put their heads 
 together, determined to give the family an old- 
 fashioned " house-warming." 
 
 " True, the house is small, but there is not 
 much room taken up with furniture," said 
 Grace. " It seems incredible that a family can 
 get along with so little." 
 
 Reg was taken into confidence, and fully ap- 
 proved of the proceeding. 
 
 "Of course we will take our suppers," ex- 
 plained Lou: "people always do at surprise- 
 parties. And at birthday-parties they always 
 give presents. What shall I give Nan ? " 
 
 Reg didn't know ; and Lou said by way of 
 suggestion, 
 
 "Suppose I give her something pretty for 
 her own room ? She told me she and Essie
 
 280 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 were to have one of the pretty bedrooms up- 
 stairs. But I don't know what it should be. 
 Suppose you come up to my room, and look 
 around, and see what you think she would like." 
 
 Little by little Reg was getting his education. 
 He had never in all his fourteen years seen a 
 well-furnished and well-kept sleeping-room ; and 
 here he was in the room of the only and petted 
 daughter of a rich man. Swiftly his eyes took 
 it all in, from the soft mossy-looking carpet on 
 the floor, and the snowy bed with its great puffy 
 pillows, to the dainty ornaments on the mantel 
 and dressing-case; and he said to himself, 
 
 "Some day Nan shall have a room like this." 
 
 " Well, what shall I give her ? " asked Lou, 
 after giving the boy time to look around. 
 
 "I think/' he replied slowly, "that Nan 
 would like a looking-glass." 
 
 " Well, now, that is just the thing ! I am so 
 glad I brought you up here ! I wonder I didn't 
 think of that before/' 
 
 "I guess," and Reg hesitated and stammered, 
 " I ought not to have said that. Won't it cost 
 a great deal ? "
 
 TRANSFORMED. 281 
 
 "Oh, no! I may not give her one just like 
 that. You see, Reg, that things ought to cor- 
 respond ; and a smaller one would do nicely for 
 Nan's little room." 
 
 " I see," said Reg simply ; and he thought 
 over in his mind the expression she had used, 
 "'Things ought to correspond.' That means, 
 they ought to fit. Just as fast as I can, I mean 
 to have things fit ! " 
 
 It didn't take long to move, when they had 
 not much to move. It was all over by after- 
 noon ; and Reg suggested that they should all 
 dress up, and have a jubilee, in honor of the 
 event and Nan's birthday. " Sam and I have 
 got little birthday-presents for Nan. Miss Lou 
 says they always have birthday-gifts at their 
 house ; and Sam and I thought it would be nice 
 to begin doing as other folks do, now we have 
 got a decent place to live in." 
 
 It was well for Reg Barnard, that the "other 
 folks " with whom he came in contact were of 
 the genuine stamp, for the most part ; for as 
 yet this was his highest idea of life, "to live 
 like other folks."
 
 282 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 The house-warming was a success. The gifts 
 for which Nan's birthday was an excuse had 
 been wisely chosen ; and they were such as 
 might have been given to any girl, and not cal- 
 culated to make her or the family feel that they 
 were objects of charity, a set of hanging- 
 shelves, a few books, a pretty rug, a low rocker ; 
 none of them costly, but such as to delight the 
 heart of a child to whom such things were new. 
 Mrs. Colonel Strong was not likely to do things 
 as any one else would. She sent the little girl 
 a large portrait of Washington, with this mes- 
 sage : " Mamma said that this was too large to 
 hang in your room, and she would like to have 
 you hang it in the living-room where you could 
 all enjoy it ; and she wants you and the boys to 
 study the face, and tell her what you find in it, 
 that is, what kind of a man you think he 
 was, from the face." And Mrs. Strong did not 
 forget. For months, whenever she met the 
 children, she would say, " Well, have you found 
 any thing new in that face?"
 
 TRANSFORMED. 283 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 " In due season." 
 
 THE months rolled away, and it was a whole 
 year since Mrs. Preston and Grace Norton went 
 out to Kitson for the first time. And what had 
 been accomplished ? Quite a large school had 
 been gathered, and thoroughly organized and 
 equipped ; and it had been taken under the fos- 
 tering care of the Waltham church. 
 
 Every sabbath afternoon Colonel Strong's 
 grays were reined up before the little school- 
 house. 
 
 " You don't seem to mind going out to Kit- 
 son every sabbath," said the colonel to his man 
 Robert. 
 
 "Mind it? Yes, I mind it ! I mind it is a 
 good thing to do. I ain't much on religion my- 
 self, but I want them youngsters of my brother's 
 to have a chance as good as the rest."
 
 284 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 "Do you have a class yourself?" asked his 
 employer. 
 
 " A class ! Oh, no ! I sits in Mrs. Preston's 
 class, and listens to her. I tell you, that woman 
 has got something that the rest of us hain't 
 got." 
 
 " She certainly has shown a good deal of 
 pluck in going out there, and persevering the 
 way she has. And yet I never thought she 
 was a very earnest Christian, until lately." 
 And the colonel mused upon the fact that a 
 change had come over several people of his 
 acquaintance. Walking down to his office, he 
 met Mr. Williams at the corner, and they went 
 down street together. 
 
 " I was thinking, as I met you," said the col- 
 onel, "that things are different in our church 
 from what they were a year or two ago. I can 
 think of several people who have suddenly, as 
 it seems to me, developed into working Chris- 
 tians. You know I am not one of that sort 
 myself, but I can see the spirit in others." 
 
 Mr. Williams smiled. He knew something 
 of Colonel Strong's work. He knew that
 
 TRANSFORMED, 285 
 
 though he might almost be called a "dumb dis- 
 ciple," his brain and his money were constantly 
 at work for his Master. Mrs. Strong was full 
 of schemes for which the husband must con- 
 trive ways and furnish means for carrying into 
 execution. 
 
 "Yes," replied the superintendent, "there is 
 a change in some of our people. I have been 
 surprised at the wonderful transformation in 
 one of our Sunday-school teachers." 
 
 " You mean Mrs. Preston ? " 
 
 "No, though she has changed within a few 
 years ; but I mean Cora Butler. The develop- 
 ment there is simply wonderful : she astonishes 
 me. And it came suddenly too. I had been 
 trying for years to get her to attend the teach- 
 ers' meeting. She always insisted that she had 
 not time ; but without warning she appeared 
 one Monday evening about four months ago, 
 and ever since she has been thoroughly awake 
 and full of enthusiasm. She seems to have en- 
 listed heart and soul in the work, and she is 
 perfectly astonished to find that we are not all 
 as enthusiastic as herself. She puts new life
 
 286 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 and energy into our meeting. She is full of 
 plans for her class, and withal she seems thor- 
 oughly imbued with the idea of seeking first 
 the conversion of her pupils." 
 
 "All this seems strange to me, for I always 
 thought Cora Butler one of the gayest and 
 shallowest of our young ladies," said the colo- 
 nel, who had no patience with the " girl of the 
 period." 
 
 " Well, I confess I never thought her capable 
 of this ; though I have been holding on, hoping 
 for an improvement in her teaching." 
 
 " Will it last, do you think ? " 
 
 " Of course one can't tell, but it looks like 
 the real thing : she has held on for four months, 
 and seems to be growing in zeal." 
 
 "Well, I am glad to hear it. They tell me 
 that the school out at Kitson is quite a suc- 
 cess." 
 
 " Yes. As you say, things are different with 
 us," replied Mr. Williams. " Have you ever 
 been out there ? to the school, I mean." 
 
 " No : the ladies have invited me out, but I 
 have not been."
 
 TRANSFORMED. 287 
 
 "You ought to go, inasmuch as the school 
 owes its existence to you." 
 
 " To me ! " 
 
 " Certainly. Who is responsible if you are 
 not ? " 
 
 The colonel whistled softly. " I did not sup- 
 pose that responsibility was going to be laid at 
 my door," he said, laughing. 
 
 "You know, that, whoever originated the 
 idea, it could never have been carried out but 
 for your generous offer of the horses and car- 
 riage." 
 
 " Oh ! it would have been managed somehow." 
 
 " I am not sure of that. We have no other 
 person who could do what you have done." 
 
 " Well, I don't want the credit of it in any 
 degree ; because, you know, a man ought to 
 show a little personal interest in a matter for 
 which he is held responsible." 
 
 "Yes, I think so," said Mr. Williams with a 
 smile ; and as they had now reached Mr. Wil- 
 liams's office, the two gentlemen parted with a 
 "good-morning." 
 
 " Robert," said Colonel Strong the next sab-
 
 288 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 bath afternoon, " if you have room for me in 
 the carriage, I will ride out to Kitson district 
 with you to-day." 
 
 " Plenty of room, sir," said the pleased 
 Robert. 
 
 After the opening of the school, Mrs. Preston 
 came towards Colonel Strong. He saw a re- 
 quest on her face, and was not altogether sur- 
 prised to hear her say, 
 
 " There are half a dozen young men over 
 there, who have fallen into the way of dropping 
 in, and would like to be formed into a class 
 if there were anybody to teach them. Now, 
 colonel, we should like to have you get them 
 organized this afternoon." 
 
 To his utter amazement, Colonel Strong 
 found himself seated in the midst of a group 
 of young men, some of whom he recognized as 
 his own employees ; and there came over him, 
 for the first time, a suspicion that he had not 
 done all his duty towards his employees in sim- 
 ply helping on this enterprise by furnishing a 
 conveyance for the self-sacrificing women who 
 were doing the work. And this feeling that he
 
 TRANSFORMED. 289 
 
 had a personal duty towards these young men 
 grew upon him. The young men were inter- 
 ested, and he was interested ; and the next 
 sabbath he astonished himself and astonished 
 Robert, by going out to Kitson again. The 
 third sabbath, no one was astonished. 
 
 As the weeks went by, there seemed to be 
 a growing interest among the people who met 
 there in the schoolhouse from sabbath to sab- 
 bath. The numbers increased ; and there was 
 a tenderness of feeling, a spirit of inquiry into 
 the principles of the Christian religion, a desire 
 to make practical applications of the truth ; 
 and one sabbath Evelyn Baker, who continued 
 to act as superintendent, said, 
 
 " I will ask the teachers to shorten the lesson 
 a little to-day. And afterwards we will spend a 
 little time in prayer and conversation. I am im- 
 pressed with the thought that there are those 
 here who would like to give expression to their 
 thoughts and determinations ; and we will give 
 them an opportunity to do so." 
 
 Evelyn had asked Colonel Strong to lead the 
 meeting which she proposed to hold ; and he
 
 290 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 had replied to the effect that the superintend- 
 ent was the proper person to conduct it, but 
 that she should have his support. " You may 
 call upon me for any thing you desire, that I 
 can do," he said. 
 
 I should like to tell you about that meeting, 
 as it was described to me ; but I fear I cannot. 
 Evelyn, in a few tender, touching words, told of 
 the preciousness of the Saviour's love, of the 
 joy she had found in serving Christ, and ear- 
 nestly invited, in her Master's name, those who 
 had never sought him to come and find out for 
 themselves how true it all was. Then Grace 
 had a word to say, and Colonel Strong offered 
 prayer. He never prayed in the Waltham 
 prayer-meeting ; but here, where he had been 
 at work for individual souls, he could pray for 
 those souls. Then the young man Herman 
 Redinger, who came only upon condition that 
 he should not be asked to help except in sing- 
 ing, found out that he could speak his Master's 
 praises as well as sing them. He told how his 
 heart had been touched by what he had seen 
 and heard there in the months past, and how
 
 TRANSFORMED. 291 
 
 for a long time he had been desirous of an 
 opportunity of speaking of the new experience 
 of Christ's love which had come to him. " I am 
 ready now for service in any place where I 
 am needed. I can sing, but I can talk too; and 
 I want to say, if there is one here who is try- 
 ing to make a compromise, and wants to dictate 
 as to the sort of service he will render, don't 
 do it. Be ready for any service." 
 
 Then Colonel Strong arose. "The remarks 
 of our young friend have moved me strangely. 
 For years I have held back from any personal 
 work for Christ : I have been willing to serve 
 him with the means which God has given me, 
 and have excused myself from further duty. 
 The little work I have been doing here of late 
 is the first personal service I have ever given 
 the Master. The prayer I prayed to-day is the 
 first public prayer I have offered in years. But, 
 like my young brother, I am constrained to say, 
 Away with compromises ! I believe that the 
 Lord wants my personal work, as well as the 
 duties of my stewardship ; and I think I am 
 ready to give it."
 
 292 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 Presently Evelyn said, 
 
 " And now I want to ask if there are not 
 some here who have never yet given any sign 
 of their interest in these matters, who would 
 like to express their concern, or maybe their 
 determination, this afternoon. Some of you 
 have said to me privately that you would like 
 to secure a personal interest in the blood of 
 Christ : will you confess him to-day ? " 
 
 A moment's pause ; then a young lady, the 
 teacher in the Kitson district, arose and said, 
 
 " I have been trying to serve Christ secretly 
 for a long time. I want this afternoon to con- 
 fess him as my Saviour." 
 
 " How many of us want to begin to-day to 
 serve the Lord ? Who will in this hour enter 
 upon a life of Christian service ? " It was Eve- 
 lyn who gave this word of invitation. There 
 was a momentary hush ; and then, as if by one 
 impulse, five women all of them mothers 
 arose and stood for an instant. 
 
 " Let us pray," said Herman Redinger. 
 
 The fields were white for the harvest, and 
 they had not known it ! It was a surprise to
 
 TRANSFORMED. 293 
 
 the workers in the Kitson district, and to the 
 Waltham church, many of whom had be- 
 come interested in the enterprise, and were 
 helping it on by their means and their influ- 
 ence, when the fruitage began to appear. 
 Evelyn Baker seemed to have been watching 
 and waiting ; and she alone was not surprised 
 when one after another, men and women, boys 
 and girls, came into the kingdom. Once Mrs. 
 Preston expressed her astonishment ; and Evelyn 
 replied, 
 
 "But it is just what we have been asking! 
 Why should it have come upon us unex- 
 pectedly ? " 
 
 " Well, you remember, when Herod had im- 
 prisoned Peter, how when he was delivered 
 from prison he came to the house of Mary, 
 where Christians were gathered praying as 
 we may suppose for him, and they refused 
 to believe that it was Peter who stood before 
 them. I think we are often astonished when 
 our prayers are answered." 
 
 Evelyn made no reply to this. I do not 
 think that she was ever, in those days, sur-
 
 294 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 prised at an answered prayer. Evelyn Baker 
 had come to expect answers to prayer. 
 
 The interest grew and widened. Mr. Man- 
 ning and others came out to help by their coun- 
 sel and their prayers. The influence of the gath- 
 erings in the Kitson neighborhood reached out, 
 and took in other neighborhoods ; some even 
 came out from the village to become interested, 
 and to be led to seek for better things than 
 they had known hitherto. Colonel Strong's 
 man Robert, who had all along been anxious 
 for his brother's family, became anxious for 
 himself, and found no rest from his anxiety 
 until he found it in Christ. Whole families in 
 some instances were brought into the king- 
 dom ; and here and there a wild, reckless son, 
 or a dissipated father, was saved. 
 
 But some for whom much effort was made, 
 and for whom many prayers were offered, held 
 strangely aloof. When Tom Dexter said in a 
 firm and determined voice, " I have made up 
 my mind to serve the Lord," all looked to see 
 his friend Reg Barnard follow his example. 
 But Reg held himself steadily apart. He had
 
 TRANSFORMED. 295 
 
 always attended the Sunday-school there, and 
 was almost always at the extra services, atten- 
 tive and serious in demeanor, but looking qui- 
 etly on as one who had no personal interest in 
 the matter. To all appeals he listened respect- 
 fully, but turned away with an indifferent air, 
 which was not assumed : he was indifferent. 
 If he could have expressed what he felt and 
 thought, he would have said in effect, "I am 
 not interested in these things. It is all right 
 for those who are, but I see no special neces- 
 sity for making a profession of religion. I am 
 trying to do the best I can, and I am satisfied 
 with the progress I am making in my effort to 
 rise in the world. Religion is a good thing, no 
 doubt ; but there are nice, respectable people 
 who live without it, and I have no .time to 
 attend to it now." John and Nan had given 
 their young hearts to the Saviour, and even 
 littfe Hugh and Stella were learning the way 
 of life : only Reg would not give his attention 
 to religion as a personal matter. 
 
 It was a glad though solemn occasion for 
 Waltham church, when a score or more of
 
 296 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 those who had scarcely ever been church at- 
 tendants came and asked to be enrolled among 
 the people of God in that place. One after 
 another they had sought counsel in regard to 
 this duty and privilege, saying, " If this is the 
 next step, we are ready for it." 
 
 Among those who came thus to unite with 
 the people of God, was Sam Barnard ; and there 
 was a sentence or two in a prayer which was 
 offered at that time, which Sam never forgot, 
 and which had much to do, it may be, with the 
 shaping of his future. Mr. Manning prayed, 
 " It may be, dear Father, that thou hast a spe- 
 cial work for some among this group of boys 
 who now come to consecrate their lives unto 
 thee. It may be that thou wilt call some one 
 of them to preach the gospel. If this shall be 
 thy plan concerning any, wilt thou prepare the 
 heart to receive the call, and to respond like 
 thy servant of old, ' Speak, Lord, for thy ser- 
 vant heareth.' ' 
 
 In that hour there came to Sam Barnard the 
 thought that perhaps he might be thus called; 
 and in his heart he said, ' Here am I.'
 
 TRANSFORMED. 297 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 "Is there yet any portion or inheritance for us in our Father's 
 house?" 
 
 AT the time when Cora Butler so astonished 
 Mr. Williams by attending the teachers' meet- 
 ing, she had just returned from her summer 
 jaunting. She was accustomed to take a sum- 
 mer trip and a winter trip, with an occasional 
 outing between times ; and adding to the sab- 
 baths she was out of town those when she 
 " really did not feel able to get out to church," 
 it will be concluded that she had not been a 
 very punctual teacher. It was observed that 
 she was absent more Sundays than she was 
 present, taking the whole year into account ; 
 and why she did not stay away altogether, was 
 a mystery to most people. On that particular 
 September sabbath, certainly, as she had been
 
 298 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 accustomed to view things she had every reason 
 for staying at home. She had returned from a 
 wearisome journey only the evening before ; her 
 mother evidently wanted her to stay at home 
 for a nice long talk about things that had oc- 
 curred in her absence ; she had a miserable 
 headache ; her trunks were not yet unpacked, 
 and ordinarily she would have been unable to 
 suit herself as to a wardrobe ; and, besides, the 
 day was quite damp. Nevertheless, she went to 
 Sunday school. A letter written the next day 
 to her friend Miss Wheeler will give an expla- 
 nation of what was then and for a long time 
 afterwards a puzzle to Mr. Williams : 
 
 DEAR ALICE, Well, I am at home again, and now 
 I will answer your letter received so long ago. I arrived 
 in Waltham late Saturday evening, dreadfully tired. 
 Mamma thought I would not go to church yesterday, 
 but I was so anxious to get back to my Sunday-school 
 class ! Now I can see your look, and hear your excla- 
 mation of surprise. You know me as a very indifferent 
 sort of a Sunday-school teacher; but, Alice, I am not the 
 same that I was. I can never be the same again. Mr. 
 Williams seemed surprised to see me; said he thought 
 I would have grown so used to staying away that I would
 
 TRANSFORMED. 299 
 
 find it hard to break in again. I did not wonder he was 
 surprised to see me on hand, for he came up in the train 
 with me on Saturday evening. I only saw him at a dis- 
 tance to bow; but of course he knew I had just got 
 home, and that was why he was surprised to see me in 
 Sunday school. I did not tell him of the new ideas I 
 have gained this summer, but of one thing I am certain, 
 it was never so easy to teach as it was yesterday. 
 Why, I actually enjoyed it ! The experiences of the last 
 month have made a new creature of me. I can hardly 
 wait for evening, I am so anxious to get to teachers' 
 meeting. I suppose that Mr. Williams's face will be 
 something worth beholding when he sees me at teachers' 
 meeting. I am going to study the lesson this afternoon, 
 so as not to be quite ignorant about it if he should 
 ask me any questions if they do ask questions : I don't 
 know what they do at our teachers' meeting. 
 
 I knew my teaching did not amount to much ; but I 
 never realized what a wretched farce it was until I went 
 to that Sunday-school Assembly at the lake, and saw 
 hundreds of teachers who were wide awake and inter- 
 ested, who talked about Sunday-school work from morn- 
 ing till night, never wearying of it, and always saying 
 something new. It wasn't three days before I caught 
 the enthusiasm. And now I feel as if I had lived ten 
 years since I went away from home. I have counted the 
 cost, and given myself to the work. Hereafter there 
 will be fewer parties and other entertainments for me.
 
 300 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 Monday, Thursday, and Saturday evenings are set apart. 
 It will not be hard when once the rule is established. 
 Two of my pupils were absent yesterday : I must call on 
 those this week, and as many more as possible. Things 
 must be got into working order at once. I have been 
 pretending to teach, without having any system or object. 
 I thought, when I took charge of the class, it would be 
 easy enough ; but I did not count the cost, and was not 
 willing to make sacrifices for it, and so made a wretched 
 failure. I tell you, Alice, that I know it has been a mis- 
 erable piece of work ; but now I am determined to learn 
 how to do it better. I do not expect an easy time. I 
 have taken it easy so long that it will be harder to do 
 my work well now, but I shall not fail utterly. I have 
 appropriated the promise " My grace is sufficient," and 
 already I know something of its sustaining power. I had 
 no thought of going to such a place as a Sunday-school 
 Assembly, when I left home ; but Marian Kingsley's 
 cousin, with whom I was staying a few days, wanted me 
 to go with her to the lake, just for the bit of summering, 
 and so I went. Then, for want of something to do, I 
 dropped in at some of the sessions, and grew interested ; 
 and now you have the whole of it. No, you cannot know 
 it all ; I cannot tell you how great a change has come 
 over me : you must come and see me, and let me convince 
 you that it is real. 
 
 Perhaps you will say that all this is a passing enthu- 
 siasm born of that meeting. It was indeed born at the
 
 TRANSFORMED. 301 
 
 meeting, but it is not a passing feeling. I am going to 
 tell you, dear, something. There was an evening when 
 I sat alone, down by the lake, and looked my life all 
 over, and saw just what a failure my Christian life had 
 been ; and I shut my eyes, and there with people passing 
 and repassing I whispered, " Dear Jesus, if thou wilt for- 
 give the past unfaithfulness, I will henceforth give myself 
 to thy service." And, Alice, I sometimes think that was 
 my first real prayer ! 
 
 There was more of this letter ; but the rest 
 related to other matters, and will not particu- 
 larly interest us. What I have copied will 
 explain the change which so astonished Mr. 
 Williams. 
 
 There was another person who was quite as 
 much puzzled as the superintendent, and that 
 was Mr. Frederic Gray. I have intimated that 
 Fred Gray was pretty well satisfied with his 
 own Christian experience and with his Chris- 
 tian life. At least, he had been until Marian 
 Kingsley's plain speaking had disturbed his se- 
 renity. Since that time, he had given himself 
 up to anger and bitterness. He was mortified, 
 but not humbled ; defeated and disappointed, 
 but not convinced of his errors. He grew more
 
 302 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 and more bitter and sarcastic. The young ladies 
 declared that he was growing unbearable. The 
 only one of their set to whom he paid any 
 attention was Cora Butler : he sometimes re- 
 marked to her, that he was thankful that she 
 was not a saint. But now Cora had " sud- 
 denly developed into one," as he expressed it. 
 The discovery was not pleasing to the young 
 man. 
 
 A week after her return, he ran in on Mon- 
 day morning to say that there was to be a 
 concert at Brighton that evening, and would 
 she like to go over ? 
 
 " I can't, Fred," she said : " it is the evening 
 for teachers' meeting." Then, seeing the look 
 of inquiry on his face, she added, " I may as 
 well explain now and here. Fred, I have 
 turned over a new leaf. I've had a new expe- 
 rience, and some things are different with me. 
 For one thing, I am going to do my Sunday- 
 school work better, and must have the help of 
 the teachers' meeting. I can never be like 
 Grace and Evelyn, or like Marian Kingsley ; 
 but I mean to make more of Cora Butler."
 
 TRANSFORMED. 303 
 
 "Now, why don't you go on, and do the 
 proper thing under the circumstances, and say 
 that I ought to make more of Fred Gray?" he 
 said with a bitter laugh. 
 
 " Because you know that already. You are 
 not as well satisfied with Fred Gray as I was 
 with Cora Butler. I may as well say that I 
 intend to refuse to make engagements for Mon- 
 day, Thursday, and Saturday evenings, as a 
 rule. So you mustn't tempt me with concerts." 
 
 " All right," said Fred ; and he went down 
 the steps with a scornful smile on his face. 
 " Never mind, it won't last long. The first 
 dancing-party of the season will fix all that ! " 
 
 But the season was half over, and Cora held 
 on her way, growing steadily. Even Fred 
 could see that ; and the consequence was, that 
 he became more dissatisfied with himself, or 
 with his religion. It was a humiliating con- 
 fession which he made to himself one evening 
 after he had been calling upon Cora. Invita- 
 tions were out for a large party at Brighton, 
 to which a number of Waltham people were 
 invited, Fred and Cora among them. But
 
 304 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 Cora had announced her intention of sending 
 regrets. 
 
 " Why, Cora, I supposed you would not miss 
 the Thornes' party for any thing ! " said Fred. 
 
 " That shows that you do not understand me 
 very well," was her reply. 
 
 " So it appears. Will you explain yourself?" 
 
 " In the first place, it is to be on Thursday 
 evening. And even if it were not, I do not 
 think I should go : I have lost all interest in 
 dancing-parties." 
 
 " Do you mean to say that you have given 
 up dancing ? " asked Fred in amazement. 
 
 " I suppose that when the prodigal went back 
 to his father's house, he gave up the husks ! I 
 lived on husks a long time, but I don't know 
 why I should go back to them after finding a 
 better way of living." 
 
 " But, Cora, society has its claims upon you." 
 
 " I know it, and I am trying to discriminate 
 between just and false claims. I do not believe 
 that society has any claim which will compel 
 me to leave the meeting which I should enjoy, 
 and which I may be able to make more en-
 
 TRANSFORMED. 305 
 
 joy able for others, for a gay assembly where 
 dancing and card-playing will be the leading 
 features, and not to engage in one or the other 
 will be very singular, and where my presence 
 will not benefit any one in the slightest degree." 
 
 " Well, I never expected to hear Cora Butler 
 arguing against dancing." 
 
 " I am not arguing. If a man had lived all 
 his life with the shutters closed and the cur- 
 tains drawn, and never had seen the sun, it 
 would be useless for me to argue that the 
 glorious sunlight was better than gas-light ; but 
 let him once come out into the clear light and 
 warmth of the broad day, and he will be con- 
 vinced. Fred, I have come into the sunshine 
 of Christ's love ! " 
 
 Fred Gray sat in his office until late, think- 
 ing about Cora Butler. She was just as bright 
 and pretty and attractive as ever, just as dainty 
 in her dress ; and her parlor was as much as 
 ever a bower of beauty, and as often filled with 
 groups of her friends. But over all had come 
 a change : there was a different atmosphere 
 hanging about her ; there were new faces
 
 306 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 among the guests, new names on her list of 
 acquaintances, and new books on her table ; 
 new subjects seemed to be naturally introduced 
 into conversation ; topics which he had never 
 heard mentioned in that house were discussed 
 as freely and as easily as once the latest novel 
 or the newest style of bonnet had been com- 
 mented upon. Cora was growing to be quite 
 at home upon religious and church matters. 
 Sometimes she would say, "I do not know 
 what you are talking about, but I want to find 
 out." Then Mr. Williams, with a curious 
 smiie, would explain some Sunday-school mat- 
 ter ; or perhaps Mr. Manning, making one of 
 the group, would explain to the earnest listener 
 some question of church polity : and so she 
 was getting her education in these things 
 rather late, perhaps, but grasping eagerly at 
 every item of information. 
 
 It was thinking over these changes in the 
 girl and her ways of thinking and talking, that 
 led Fred to say to himself, 
 
 "There's no denying it, that girl has found 
 something in religion that I have failed as yet
 
 TRANSFORMED. 307 
 
 to discover. With all my boasted sharpness, 
 I have not found out the secret. Marian 
 Kingsley is a fanatic ; but Cora Butler hasn't 
 a bit of fanaticism about her, though she is 
 made over." 
 
 It was about this time, or perhaps a little 
 later, that Fred Gray happened to be talking 
 with Mr. Manning, and remarked that he was 
 in search of an office-boy. 
 
 " I can tell you where to find one who for 
 brightness of intellect will suit you, but per- 
 haps he will not be strong enough for the 
 work." 
 
 "The work is not hard. The principal thing 
 is, to have some one to receive messages when 
 I am engaged, and to stay in the office when I 
 am away. Since Walters went, I have been 
 alone. But who is your boy ? " 
 
 " I was thinking of that lame Barnard boy. 
 He is not strong enough for gardening, and he 
 is very desirous of getting an education. If 
 he would answer your purpose, I wish you 
 would try him." 
 
 And within a few days Sam Barnard was
 
 308 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 duly installed as lawyer Gray's office-boy. His 
 duties were light, and he found considerable 
 time for study. Mr. Gray grew to like the 
 boy : he was intelligent and faithful, eager for 
 knowledge, and of cheerful disposition, quali- 
 ties which won Fred's admiration. 
 
 It had been the understanding, that the 
 arrangement should be for a few weeks of trial, 
 after which, if both were suited, a permanent 
 agreement should be entered into. There had 
 been a slight misunderstanding. Sam under- 
 stood by " permanent " a year, or perhaps two ; 
 while the lawyer intended that the arrangement 
 should be for years, until, in fact, the boy 
 should be twenty-one, and would be educated 
 for the bar. When he laid the proposition 
 before Sam, to the effect that he would under- 
 take the expense of his maintenance and edu- 
 cation for the profession of the law, the boy 
 was distressed. He did not want to seem un- 
 grateful ; but he felt certain that he should 
 never become a lawyer, and was obliged to tell 
 his would-be patron so. Mr. Gray was impa- 
 tient, and thought him ungrateful, and told 
 him so.
 
 TRANSFORMED. 309 
 
 " You are too young to know whether you 
 will like it or not, and you should allow some 
 one older to decide," he urged. " I have been 
 studying your capabilities, and I am sure you 
 would make a successful lawyer. You suit me, 
 and you say that you do not object to working 
 for me. Now, what is the reason you are un- 
 willing to strike a bargain, subject of course 
 to your parents' approval ? " 
 
 Sam hesitated. " Out with it ! " said Mr. 
 Gray ; and thus urged, indeed commanded, 
 Sam said, " I am sure I can never be a lawyer, 
 because two years ago, when I first found out 
 about Jesus, and how he loved us, I gave my 
 life to him, and promised to do whatever he 
 should set for me to do. And now I am pretty 
 certain that he will want me to preach ; and if 
 he does, why, I must do it. So I can't promise 
 to study law." 
 
 Mr. Gray honestly thought the boy was ab- 
 surdly foolish ; and he continued to set forth 
 the advantages which he had offered, telling 
 him that there was no possibility of his pre- 
 paring himself for the ministry, that he would
 
 3 1 TRA NSFORMED. 
 
 be very foolish to throw away this opportunity 
 of preparing for usefulness. For, he assured 
 him, he could be quite as useful as a lawyer; 
 if he desired to be a benefit to humanity, the 
 field was certainly wide enough even in the 
 practice of law. But Sam was firm : he said, 
 " Mr. Gray, you are very good, and I thank 
 you ; but it would not be right for me to accept 
 your offer, for I am almost sure I should dis- 
 appoint you." 
 
 " But what will you do ? Have you any 
 prospect of being able to educate yourself for 
 the ministry ? " 
 
 " No ; but if God wants me he will show the 
 way." 
 
 " See here, boy ! where did you get this 
 notion ? How long have you been thinking 
 of it ? " 
 
 " Why, when Miss Kingsley first told me 
 about Christ, I said I would do any thing he 
 asked me to do." 
 
 " I might have known that this was more of 
 Marian Kingsley's fanaticism cropping out ! " 
 interrupted Mr. Gray angrily. He thought he
 
 TRANSFORMED. 3 1 1 
 
 was angry with the boy ; but I suspect he was 
 more angry with himself, though he did not 
 know it. He sent Sam home, and told him 
 that he was an ungrateful little scamp. 
 
 When Fred Gray stopped to reflect, he 
 thought it was strange how many people he 
 came in contact with of late whose religion 
 meant something more than a name. But just 
 then he was too angry at his failure to carry 
 out his plan. He felt that it was really a good 
 chance for the boy ; and indeed it was a gener- 
 ous offer, and he was in no mood to have his 
 generosity rejected for what he looked upon 
 as a whim. And what made him more bitter 
 was the fact that just then he had some trouble 
 with an officer in the church, growing out of a 
 legal matter. This made him more intolerant 
 of the mistakes of his fellow-Christians, and 
 for a long time he absented himself from 
 church services. He afterwards confessed that 
 he tried hard to give up all religious belief, and 
 become an infidel. He looked upon the most 
 of the Christians whom he knew as either 
 hypocrites or fanatics, while he had lost confi-
 
 3 1 2 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 dence in his own religious experience. But, 
 after all, he could never get away from the 
 consistent lives of the very people whom he 
 denominated fanatics. For months Fred Gray 
 tried to put down his conscience. He had 
 entirely lost his old and habitual satisfaction 
 in his religion. He was thoroughly dissatisfied 
 with himself; and he seemed to have placed 
 before him a choice between a life of self- 
 indulgence, with the renouncing of all claim 
 to the name of Christian, or a new and entire 
 consecration of all his powers to the service 
 of Christ. He had tried long enough to com- 
 promise between Christ and the world. He 
 knew that there could be for him no half-way 
 surrender this time : it must be complete, or 
 not at all. How would it end ? 
 
 One day when June had come, he left his 
 office, turning the key behind him, and with 
 his hunting-case and fishing-rod took the train 
 for the woods. Perhaps it would have sur- 
 prised his friends, had they known that neither 
 rifle nor rod was once brought into use during 
 his absence ; and perhaps they would have
 
 TRANSFORMED. 3 1 3 
 
 been still more surprised, had they known that 
 the little black-covered volume in his pocket 
 was a Bible. When he returned, he gave no 
 account of himself, but he drove immediately 
 out to the Barnards'. 
 
 " Sam," he said, " I want to make another 
 proposition to you. Will you come and act as 
 office-boy for the present, with the understand- 
 ing that you are to study in whatever line 
 Mr. Manning shall direct, and that you are at 
 liberty to leave whenever the way opens to 
 better advantages ? "
 
 314 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 " I am as a wonder unto many." 
 
 I HOPE you are interested in Reg, and his 
 hopes and ambitions ; for then you will be glad 
 to know that his dream was realized. It was a 
 June day, nearly fifteen years after our story 
 opened, that he was busy trimming out the 
 withered roses from a luxuriant climber in the 
 yard, when, happening to glance towards 
 the house, he saw Nan standing upon the 
 piazza. She wore a light dress, and was feed- 
 ing the birds whose pretty gilded cages swung 
 in the morning air. All at once it came back 
 to him, that dream of his boyhood ; and here 
 it was in every detail ! the pretty house with 
 its low windows, its Venetian blinds, its broad 
 piazza., and its clambering vines. And, too, 
 there was the wide lawn, and the carriage-drive,
 
 TRANSFORMED. 315 
 
 broad and with a graceful curve, ending at the 
 freshly painted barn in the rear of the house. 
 As Reg was still gazing upon this reality, a 
 pony-phaeton came along the road, turned in at 
 the open gateway, and came to a stop at the 
 end of the piazza. Nan left her birds, and ran 
 down the steps to welcome her visitor, who de- 
 clined her invitation to come in, saying, " I was 
 out for a drive, and could not resist the tempta- 
 tion to stop a moment ; but I must be back at 
 ten to drive mamma to- the train. Say, Nan, 
 will you give a little talk about Africa at the 
 missionary meeting next week? " 
 
 As Reg stood watching the two young ladies, 
 he fell to dreaming again ; and in his dream 
 the pony and phaeton and the fair young driver 
 belonged to the picture. And as Bertha Gray 
 "bade Nan good-by, and drove off, he said softly 
 to himself, "Some time perhaps!" Would 
 that dream, too, prove a reality ? Well, " some 
 time perhaps." 
 
 We must go back a little. It was now sev- 
 eral years since the Grays came back to Wal- 
 tham. One springtime when people had almost
 
 3 1 6 TRA NSFORMED. 
 
 given up their return, the news ran through the 
 village, that they were coming back. The 
 homestead had stood silent and empty of life 
 for more than five years, while its master 
 sought health in a more favorable climate. His 
 search having been successful, he began to 
 think of turning his face homeward. Waltham 
 had been the home of his boyhood and of his 
 early manhood, and was dearer to him than any 
 other place on earth. Grandmother Gray, 
 seeming to renew her' youth with the hope of 
 seeing, her first-born again, came from her 
 daughter's home to superintend the opening 
 and airing of the old house ; and once more all 
 was life and bustle. Early in May the family 
 came, Bertha almost a young lady, bearing 
 the dignity of her fourteen years with a wo- 
 manly grace ; and Fred almost as tall as his' 
 namesake uncle. 
 
 And Marian Kingsley with them ? Oh, no ! 
 let me tell you about that. 
 
 When Dr. Carlton left Waltham, he had 
 buried himself in a Western city, devoting 
 himself untiringly to the duties of his profes-
 
 TRA NSFORMED. 3 1 7 
 
 sion. " I never saw a man so completely in 
 love with his profession as Dr. Carlton," said a 
 Waltham friend who had ferreted him out in 
 his retirement. " He gives himself no rest, 
 day or night. And even since his uncle left 
 him that immense fortune, it makes not the 
 slightest difference : he works just as hard as 
 ever." 
 
 " I never thought him a hard worker here 
 at home," said Frederic Gray, with whom the 
 gentleman was talking. "I thought he took 
 life rather easy than otherwise. Not that he 
 was in any way unfaithful to his patients, but 
 he never seemed to care if business was dull." 
 
 " Oh, but he isn't the Dr. Carlton that you 
 knew ! He is as sober as a judge. He was 
 very hospitable, treated us royally, but seemed 
 pre-occupied and I thought sad. I heard that 
 he was very popular, especially among the 
 poorer classes." 
 
 Perhaps if Frederic Gray had recalled a con- 
 versation which he had with Dr. Carlton just 
 before leaving home for that winter in the South, 
 and had put alongside that conversation a letter
 
 3 1 8 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 which he had written to the doctor while still 
 in Florida, he would have had the explanation 
 of what was a sort of puzzle to him. He said 
 to his friend at that time, that he meant to 
 marry Marian Kingsley ; and in the letter he 
 said, " You will like to know how I am pro- 
 gressing in my love-affair. I say, finely ; in- 
 deed, I consider the question as good as 
 settled." 
 
 And Dr. Carlton, foolish man, on the strength 
 of that, exiled himself from home and friends. 
 But one day when three years had passed, his 
 mail was brought in as usual. He smiled as he 
 took up an envelope with the unmistakable air 
 of wedding-cards about it. "Who now?" he 
 said aloud as he tore open the envelope, more 
 as a form than for any interest he felt in the 
 matter. "'You are invited to the marriage of 
 Frederic Gray and Cora Butler' not Marian 
 Kingsley ! " he exclaimed. He thrust the cards 
 aside, ran hastily through the other letters, and, 
 after sitting in thought for a quarter of an hour, 
 arose and went to the office of a brother physi- 
 cian.
 
 TRANSFORMED. 3 1 9 
 
 ' I have news to-night which makes it im- 
 portant that I should leave the city at once, for 
 an indefinite length of time. I want to transfer 
 my patients to your care." 
 
 The necessary arrangements were soon made, 
 and by midnight Dr. Carlton was on his way to 
 the Pacific Coast. By a somewhat remarkable 
 coincidence, he had only three days before 
 learned that Mr. Lewis Gray was still in Cali- 
 fornia. He meant to go there for a visit, and 
 if he found Marian Kingsley there he would 
 try to win her : if she were married or dead, he 
 would return to his work again. 
 
 He never returned to his office and work in 
 that city : the transfer of his business was 
 made permanent, and three months later he 
 went abroad with his bride. 
 
 To Waltham people who inquired about the 
 couple, Mrs. Gray said, > 
 
 " The doctor and Marian have been travelling 
 about in Europe ever since their marriage, and 
 they do not even talk of coming home. The 
 doctor sent for the half brother and sister, after 
 their mother's death ; and they will probably
 
 320 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 stay in Germany and Paris until the young 
 people finish their education. Marian wants 
 us to send Bertha out to them next year, but I 
 cannot make up my mind to let her go ; besides, 
 Mr. Gray has a prejudice in favor of an Ameri- 
 can education for Americans." 
 
 "Do you notice many changes in Waltham?" 
 asked Mrs. Preston. 
 
 " Yes, and no. The place is the same, and 
 the people are for the most part the same. I 
 miss a few faces, and find a number of un- 
 familiar ones Some of the young people have 
 grown up since \ve went away. But there is a 
 difference in the religious atmosphere of the 
 place ; at least, so it seems to me. Perhaps I 
 have been away so long that I have forgotten, 
 but I should say there had been a transforming 
 power at work." 
 
 " I think there has been a change. You 
 probably notice it more than we who have lived 
 through it." 
 
 " The most astonishing revelation I have had 
 is the change which has come over Cora and 
 Fred."
 
 TRANSFORMED. 321 
 
 " Yes : Fred is our Sunday-school superin- 
 tendent since Mr. Williams resigned on account 
 of his failing health, and he makes an admirable 
 one. And Cora is developing into a rare 
 Christian." 
 
 " I cannot understand it," said Mrs. Gray. 
 " They were neither of them tending that way 
 when we left Waltham ; indeed, I sometimes 
 doubted if either of them knew any thing about 
 a real Christianity." 
 
 " If ' by their fruits ' they are known, there is 
 no room for doubt on that point at present," 
 replied Mrs. Preston. 
 
 " Bertha is quite enthusiastic over a girl in 
 the Sunday-school class which she has joined. 
 She pointed her out to me yesterday, a pretty 
 girl, a little younger than Bertha. She says 
 her name is Annie Barnard. They must be 
 new-comers : I do not remember any Barnards 
 here." 
 
 Mrs. Preston laughed. " O Mrs. Gray ! you 
 are quite behind the times. Not to know the 
 Karnards ! Perhaps you may recall the 
 Barneys,"
 
 322 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 "The Barneys! Indeed I can recall them. 
 But what of them ? It can't be " 
 
 " Yes, it can be, and is ! The Barneys and 
 the Barnards are the same." 
 
 " But I do not understand." 
 
 "None of us did for a long time. But we 
 know now, whether we understand it or not, 
 that the Barnards are among our most efficient 
 church workers and among our most respected 
 people." 
 
 " Indeed ! But I suppose you would not 
 consider them exactly fit associates for your 
 children ? " 
 
 "Whatever we may consider them, the fact 
 remains that they do associate with our best 
 people. The oldest boy is secretary of the 
 young people's literary association, and a mem- 
 ber of the choir ; and the second son is in your 
 brother-in-law's office," 
 
 " That boy a Barney ! Why, he is a bright 
 young fellow. And Fred seems to have as 
 good as adopted him : he told me yesterday that 
 he expected to preach through that boy." 
 
 " Yes : Fred tried hard to make a lawyer of
 
 TRANSFORMED. 323 
 
 him, but Sam thinks he must study for the 
 ministry ; and Fred is going to help him through 
 his studies." 
 
 "But he never said a word to us about his 
 belonging to the Barneys." 
 
 "Well, I presume he did not think of it. No 
 one ever thinks of them as ' the Barneys ' now- 
 adays." 
 
 " And you would not interfere with Bertha's 
 liking for the girl ? " 
 
 " If I were you, I would wait and see the girl 
 for myself." 
 
 Mrs. Gray did not interfere ; and a friendship 
 sprang up between the two girls, which grew 
 and strengthened until that June morning when 
 Reg dreamed of a new tie, "some time per- 
 haps."
 
 324 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 "Other foundation can no man lay than that is laid, which is 
 Jesus Christ." 
 
 AND now, after a long time, the Carltons 
 were coming back to Waltham. The girl Mar- 
 ian Kingsley who went away fifteen years ago 
 expecting to return in three months, and Dr. 
 Carlton who went away a month later without 
 any intention of returning, these two were 
 coming back, for a time at least ; and this was 
 one of the items of news which Bertha Gray 
 communicated to her friend Nannie during 
 that brief morning call. 
 
 Of course they came directly to Mr. Gray's, 
 and Fred and Cora came out the same evening 
 to see them. 
 
 " And now you have come home to stay ? " 
 said Fred.
 
 TRANSFORMED. 325 
 
 "Well," replied Mrs. Carlton, "I do not 
 know how long. We shall probably remain for 
 several years, though we may go abroad again 
 when Lewis and Claire are a few years older." 
 
 " We hope you will stay in Waltham," said 
 Cora. 
 
 " Perhaps we may. Of course the doctor has 
 strong attachments to this place, but I spent so 
 little time here that I did not form many ac- 
 quaintances." 
 
 " And you may as well own that you did not 
 like us very well either," said Cora, laughing. 
 
 " No, I will not own that, though I will con- 
 fess that I was never very homesick after I 
 went away from Waltham. I did think the 
 atmosphere a little chilly." 
 
 "You will find it somewhat changed, I think : 
 something thawed us out a few years ago, and 
 we never froze up again." 
 
 The doctor was asking questions right and 
 left. 
 
 "It is strange," he said, "how little we have 
 heard from Waltham since we went abroad. 
 We have never kept up a very vigorous corre-
 
 326 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 spondence, and I suppose the fact that our 
 friends here were so long in California made 
 them forget that we would be interested in af- 
 fairs here. Marian wrote about her children, 
 I suppose; and Mrs. Gray replied with whole 
 sheets of motherly advice." 
 
 "As if she needed it, with a doctor for a hus- 
 band ! That is not fair," said Mrs. Gray. " I 
 had enough to tell of our family affairs, without 
 retailing the village gossip." 
 
 "Well, tell me about the people I know," 
 said Marian, seating herself by Cora's side. 
 "They are so few that it will not tax you 
 greatly ; then we will have that done up, and 
 be ready for other matters. Mr. Manning is 
 still here ? I think I heard uncle Lewis men- 
 tion him a few moments ago." 
 
 " Yes ; that is, he is still our pastor, though 
 he is now away on a six-months' leave of ab- 
 sence. We have a young man supplying his 
 place, just from the seminary, quite a tal- 
 ented young fellow. I think he told Frederic 
 that he would call on you to-night." 
 
 " Tell me about Evelyn Baker and Grace 
 Norton."
 
 TRANSFORMED. 327 
 
 " Didn't you hear ? Evelyn married a for- 
 eign missionary several years ago, and went out 
 to India ; and Grace finished her work early, 
 she lies over there, under the trees." 
 
 " Gone home, has she ? and I had looked 
 forward to seeing her ! " After a little pause, 
 Marian asked suddenly, 
 
 "What became of the Barneys, the poor 
 family that the doctor and I took care of for 
 a while, and that your husband and I used to 
 quarrel over ? " 
 
 As Mr. and Mrs. Frederic Gray were setting 
 out for this call, he remarked, 
 
 " I do not believe that Marian has any idea 
 of what has been going on here since she went 
 away. Sam says he is going to call at Lewis's 
 to-night. I hope it will be while we are there : 
 I should like to see her face when he is intro- 
 duced." 
 
 Cora was quick-witted ; and recalling this re- 
 mark, she was not thrown off her guard when 
 Marian asked about the Barneys ; and she 
 replied, 
 
 " Oh ! they live out there on the same place.
 
 328 TRANSFORMED. . 
 
 They have a better house, and I think they 
 raise vegetables for a living. I understand 
 they get along very comfortably. The boys 
 are grown up, and they are doing very well." 
 
 " And did they never go back to their drink- 
 ing and smoking ways?" 
 
 "No, I think not. The father and mother 
 and some of the younger ones joined our 
 church, and I have never heard any thing 
 against them." 
 
 " I am glad to know it ! I have thought of 
 the family occasionally ; but I never thought to 
 ask about them when I was writing to auntie, 
 and I did not know but they had moved away. 
 That sort of people are sometimes wandering in 
 disposition, like ourselves." And she laughed 
 gayly, quite like Marian Kingsley, so Cora 
 said 
 
 Presently the door-bell rang; and as a mo- 
 ment later a peculiar sound was heard in the 
 hall, Cora said, 
 
 "That is the young minister: he is lame, and 
 walks with a crutch." 
 
 " Rev. Mr. Barnard " entered, and was intro- 
 duced to the strangers.
 
 TRANSFORMED. 329 
 
 " Did you walk ? " asked Frederic Gray. 
 
 " Yes. I expected my brother to drive down 
 for me ; but he was late, and so I walked out, 
 expecting to meet him. Probably he was de- 
 tained, but he may call later." 
 
 " I suppose it is a busy season with him," 
 remarked Mr. Gray. 
 
 "Yes; and you know, perhaps, that he is to 
 deliver an address at the Horticultural Associ- 
 ation next week, and of course that takes his 
 leisure time." 
 
 " Oh, well ! Reg is perfectly at home in horti- 
 culture," said Mr. Gray. " If there is any one 
 subject that he understands thoroughly, it is 
 that, though he is pretty well posted on other 
 matters." 
 
 Just then Bertha Gray came in, dressed for 
 the street ; and going over to Marian she said, 
 " I am going down to choir-rehearsal : I am 
 sorry I am obliged to go out to-night." Then 
 turning to the young minister she asked, "Do 
 you think Nannie will be down to rehearsal ?" 
 
 " I expected her with Reg, but they have not 
 arrived as yet."
 
 330 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 " Bertha thinks she cannot sing without 
 Nannie," said Mrs. Gray. 
 
 " When do you expect Stella ? " asked Cora. 
 
 "The last of next week," was the reply. 
 
 Frederic was watching Marion ; but her face 
 showed no suspicion of any thing strange, and 
 she had none. True, these names were famil- 
 iar ; yet at that moment she had forgotten the 
 names of the " Barney " children. 
 
 But a moment later a young man entered. 
 He greeted Mr. and Mrs. Gray courteously, but 
 walked directly across the long room, and stood 
 before Marian as if waiting recognition. 
 
 " Mrs. Carlton," he said, and his voice was 
 eager and excited, " you have not entirely for- 
 gotten ' Reg ' ? " 
 
 Then Cora, who still sat beside Marian, 
 said, 
 
 " Mrs. Carlton, allow me to introduce my 
 friend Mr. Reginald Barnard." 
 
 Then in an instant the truth flashed upon 
 Marian, at least, a part of the truth. She 
 did not as yet comprehend how it was that 
 these old acquaintances of hers were called
 
 TRA NSFORMED. 3 3 1 
 
 " Barnard," nor did she realize even then the 
 extent of the transformation. It was not until 
 she had been out to the Barnards', and looked 
 upon their pleasant, happy home life in what 
 she declared was the prettiest house in the 
 vicinity of Waltham ; not until she had shaken 
 hands and talked, with the father and mother, 
 and noted the change in them, in voice and 
 manner, in dress and speech ; not until she sat 
 in the village church, and heard Sam preach ; 
 not until she talked with Reg of his business, 
 and of his library, and of his attempts at giving 
 his knowledge to others, that she realized the 
 work that had been done in these fifteen years. 
 
 When Marian was talking with Reg of his 
 books, Mrs. Barnard brought out the Bible 
 which Marian had left with them when she 
 went away. It did not need that she should 
 say, " There's never been a day since you went 
 away, that Thomas and I have not read one 
 or more chapters in this Book." Its well-worn 
 appearance told the story ; and, too, their lives 
 and their manner of speech told it. 
 
 "I often tell Reir that this book is worth
 
 332 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 more than all other books in the world," said 
 the mother. Then, as Reg was called away for 
 a moment, Mrs. Barnard said, 
 
 "O Mrs. Carl ton ! there's just one shadow 
 upon our lives : Reg is the only one who is left 
 out, and that is because he will not come. I 
 cannot understand it : the rest of us all came 
 so easily into the kingdom ! Reg has been 
 prospered, and the sad thing about it is that he 
 thinks he has done it all himself ! " 
 
 Marian found an opportunity to have a pri- 
 vate talk with Reg. 
 
 " I am sorry to hear that you do not call 
 yourself a Christian," she said. " Why are you 
 not one?" 
 
 " I suppose, simply because I have never set 
 out to be one." 
 
 " But why not ? " 
 
 " I do not know as I can tell you. One rea- 
 son is, that I have never had time. My life has 
 been a very busy one : with work and study, 
 my time is all taken up. I always go to 
 church, but there my interest ends." 
 
 " May I ask why you even go to church ? "
 
 TRANSFORMED. 333 
 
 " I do not know that I can give a reason : I 
 suppose, partly because I formed the habit with 
 the rest of the family, and partly because it is 
 respectable to attend church. It throws one 
 into good society." 
 
 " Do you not consider the matter of personal 
 religion important ? " asked Marian. 
 
 "Why, yes, and no : it does not seem impor- 
 tant to me. Some people appear to find it a 
 help ; but I have succeeded in carrying out my 
 plans, and have reached the point at which I 
 aimed. My first ambition, though I -did not 
 know it was an ambition, was to have a home 
 like this, and to be able to live like other peo- 
 ple. I have succeeded without being a Chris- 
 tian, as you define the word, quite as well as 
 many who are." 
 
 " Reg, you certainly believe in God." 
 
 " Yes, in a Creator." 
 
 " And you believe in the Bible as a revela- 
 tion of his will ? " 
 
 " Yes, I suppose I do : I have not adopted 
 infidel views. I may not interpret every thing 
 in the Bible just as you would, but I believe in 
 it as a whole."
 
 334 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 " Then, of course, you believe that the Creator, 
 as you choose to call him, has cognizance of 
 our movements, and is able to build up or de- 
 stroy what he has created." 
 
 " Able, I suppose ; but I imagine that after 
 he has made things, and set them going, he 
 does not trouble himself much about such in- 
 significant matters as we and our affairs." 
 
 " Now, it seems to me, that if he took pains 
 to create us, he would take some sort of inter- 
 est in his own work." 
 
 " I do not mean just that ; but I think he has 
 left us to do our work, and all we have to think 
 of is to see that we do it as well as we know 
 how. I do not see how I could have done any 
 better work by being a professor of religion. 
 I am willing to compare my work with that of 
 almost any Christian I know ; and I think that 
 if I do it as well as I can, the Lord will accept 
 it." 
 
 " What reason have you for thinking so ? " 
 
 "Why should I doubt it?" 
 
 " Because he' has distinctly told you that 
 he will not accept your work, that unless
 
 TRANSFORMED. 335 
 
 you render a perfect service it all goes for 
 naught." 
 
 " Don't you think it a little hard on a fellow, 
 when he has honestly tried to do his duty, to 
 blame him for some slight imperfections ? " 
 
 "That depends. If there was a chance to 
 make his work perfect, and knowing this he 
 neglected to employ the means, deliberately 
 leaving out that which would cover all imper- 
 fections, straighten out all the crooked lines, 
 wash away all the soil, and make the work 
 clean and pure and perfect in the eye of the 
 Master, then would he not deserve blame ? I 
 tell you, Reg, the most unworthy Christian, the 
 weakest and most fallible among us, has that 
 which you have not if you are not a Christian ; 
 that through which justification comes, the 
 righteousness of Christ. Until we put on 
 Christ, our work goes for nothing." 
 
 At the close of a long conversation Reg 
 said, 
 
 "Mrs. Carlton, if only out of consideration 
 for you, to gratify you I would like to be inter- 
 ested in these matters; but you would not wish
 
 336 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 me to express interest where I felt only indif- 
 ference ? I respect religion and religious peo- 
 ple, and I would not hinder in any way any 
 one who is inclined to look at things differ- 
 ently." 
 
 "I am quite sure that you are making a 
 mistake there. Let me tell you something 
 that I know. Last sabbath I taught a class in 
 the Kitson school, and I asked one of the 
 boys why he was not a Christian: he said, 'All 
 the good folks are not among the Christians. 
 There's Mr. Reg Barnard, he's an awful good 
 man, and he don't belong to the church ; and 
 he don't think there's much good in praying 
 neither.' Now, my friend, can you say that 
 you are not hindering ? I want to say a word 
 about your success. You have done wonders, 
 I admit ; but to what is your success due ? 
 What makes you to differ from others ? What 
 was the turning-point in the history of your 
 family? Was it not in the hour when your 
 father and mother took Christ as their Saviour, 
 the Bible as their guide, and the Holy Spirit 
 as their Illuminator? What is the transform-
 
 337 
 
 ing power that has changed every thing about 
 you ? Do you not owe every thing to the reli- 
 gion which you reject ? Reg, I believe that 
 the Lord will yet open your eyes to the truth, 
 but I fear that the revelation will come through 
 pain and sorrow. 
 
 " The Lord has been very gracious to you," 
 she added. " It seems to me, that he has been 
 seeking to win you to his service through his 
 smiles : he has favored your plans, and ad- 
 vanced your interests. And yet you refuse to 
 give him the honor. He may yet be forced 
 to show his power in bringing you low, unless 
 you humble yourself before him. You have 
 no refuge for a day of trouble, Reg." 
 
 Reg smiled proudly as he replied, " It seems 
 to me, Mrs. Carlton, that a man ought to have 
 strength of character enough to bear the chan- 
 ging fortunes of life with equanimity. I think 
 I have fortitude for whatever may come." 
 
 "I fear you will find your strength weak- 
 ness." 
 
 In all the twenty-seven years of his life, 
 Reginald Barnard had not known a day's ill-
 
 338 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 ness. Of physical pain and suffering, he did 
 not know the meaning. The memory of those 
 early times of hunger and cold and privation 
 had almost faded out of his memory. He had 
 grown up strong physically, as he was men- 
 tal^ and morally. The development of his 
 spiritual nature, God-ward, only had been 
 stunted and dwarfed. He was a handsome 
 young fellow, of much manliness in form and 
 feature and manner. He had a roundish face 
 with little color, full gray eyes, broad forehead, 
 and shapely chin ; his hair, which in childhood 
 had reminded one of nothing so much as a 
 hank of tow, had gradually grown darker, until 
 now it, as well as the slightly curling mous- 
 tache, was of a handsome shade of brown. He 
 was always neat in his dress and personal hab- 
 its. Of late he had been able to dress well, 
 and was reckoned as one of Waltham's finest- 
 looking young men. 
 
 He had said to Mrs. Carlton, that he thought 
 he had fortitude to meet the ills of life ; and 
 he had not spoken without consideration. He 
 had seen men sinking under misfortune, and
 
 TRANSFORMED. 339 
 
 had looked with something like contempt upon 
 their failure to rise above their troubles. He 
 had said within himself, "If reverses come, it 
 would be only to begin over again. Other men 
 have had disappointments : I may not be ex- 
 empt, but the best way is to take philosophi- 
 cally whatever comes." 
 
 As often happens, the troubles for which we 
 plan and provide are not those which befall us ; 
 and Reg had never planned for the trial which 
 was to test his philosophy. 
 
 It was a warm July afternoon. He had gone 
 out to inspect his young plum and apricot trees, 
 and had taken his scythe to cut down some 
 weeds which had sprung up in the orchard. 
 He was not a clumsy workman, neither was he 
 careless : on the contrary, he was both skilful 
 and cautious ; indeed, it was often remarked by 
 the neighbors, " Nothing ever happens to Reg 
 Barnard; his horses never run away, his wag- 
 ons never break down on the road, his Jersey 
 cow never gets loose, and he never fails to have 
 a good crop of whatever he puts in." And 
 this was nearly true. Reg was careful, and
 
 340 TRANSFORMED. 
 
 faithful-to his own interests; not selfishly, for 
 he was very obliging to his neighbors, but he 
 was also very systematic in his work in all its 
 details, the last person to whom an accident 
 would be likely to happen. And how it did 
 happen, no one could ever tell. He did not 
 know then or ever. Whether he slipped and 
 fell upon his scythe, or whether the fall was 
 from being overcome by the heat, he could not 
 think; but one thing they all knew, that 
 in that hour his life-blood had nearly ebbed 
 away. Nan found him helpless and fainting, 
 and tore her dainty white apron into strips for 
 a bandage with which she bound the wound in 
 a skilful manner to stay the flow of blood. 
 Tnen they carried him to the house, and laid 
 him upon his bed. It was an ugly wound, and 
 with it began a battle for life. For weeks 
 fever raged in his veins, and delirium often 
 tortured the weakened brain with wild imagin- 
 ings. Reg Barnard knew from that time what 
 pain meant ; he knew the torment of long 
 weary days and nights of languishing ; he 
 knew the agony of a soul that stands face to
 
 TRANSFORMED. 341 
 
 face with death, and sees the clutching hand 
 stretched out to grasp the victim, and feels no 
 overshadowing PRESENCE. He was close to 
 the valley of the shadow of death, and could 
 not say "Thou art with me." His fortitude, 
 his philosophy, had failed him, and lie had no 
 other refuge. 
 
 It was October when he again began to go 
 about, and weeks later before he was his old 
 self. Ah, he was never quite as before ! 
 Physically he had quite recovered, but some- 
 thing was missed : was it a little of the old 
 pride and haughtiness of carriage ? 
 
 He said to Mrs. Carlton one day, 
 
 " You were right : my strength proved to be 
 weakness." 
 
 " And now ? " she asked. 
 
 "Now I do 'all things through Christ which 
 strenstheneth me.'"
 
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 LIFE OF LAFAYETTE, the Knight of Liberty. 
 
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 1 A HISTORY OF FRANCE. By VICTOR DURUY, member of the French Academy. 
 
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