ii if 0f Cnrro, BY THE S A M 1-i A U T H K . r, f (j* CljiR of 12mo. $1,00. " It is a deeply interesting story. We hope every novel-reading young lady will procure and attentively read it She will be made wiser ad hetter by so doing, and will find it contains all the interest of the wildest romance." Prea- byterittn Herald. " Its incidents are graphically anil naturally tokl." Hampshire Herald. "There has no volume fallen into our hands for years with which we have been more interested." Sandy-Hill Herald. "The writer is equally at home amid the picturesque scenes of the Pacific Isles, and the more familiar events of an American dwelling." South Baptist. "An affectins; story." Jtfferxoninn. " A charming story : we read U with unbounded satisfaction." Lit. Standard. " Vara is of the same type as the gentle Eva. 1 ' Demrx'i-al. "After perusing 'Vara,' the heart seems hallowed with a holy spirit." Mer- cantile Guide. "One of the most charming books we have read in a long time, written in a most attractive style, and inculcating valuable Christian lessons." Religious Herald. "The tale is told in a strain of unaffected simplicity.'' Asmonean. "It is not often we become so deeply absorbed in a volume as we did in this book." .SY. Lotiix J'renliutt riii/i. "This book appears in the world of letters with nothing to designate its parentage, and depending solely on its intrinsic merits for its support. Who- ever may be its parent, however, has no cause to blush for his offspring. It is one of those books lor which the present day Is peculiarly noted : books which Inculcate not only morality, but religion deep, pure, and heartfelt religion religion as our Saviour intended k should be, free from sectarianism, pharisee- Ism, or dogmatism a religion which is seated in the heart; which has come from above, and which gives to the happy and bl-ssed possessor, not only a .harm anil an attraction inexpressible, but pea<-e and joy which no worldly evil can destroy, and no worldly sorrow overshadow." Chicago Tribune. " We predict for this book a very large gale. It is one of peculiar interest, possessing all the attractions of a romance, and at the same time inculcating a wholesome moral, in chaste, lively, and graphic language." Daily Nevcx. "As a work of art, we place it high. Independently of any aim of plot, tbo language is both chaste and ornate, frequently pathetic, often hnmorous. The characters are drawn with great skill, a-id we can Hnd originals in our mind who Buem to be here carefully pictured. Here are men of the world thinking liko tlicM.- worldly men, and aptly speaking their language; Yankees with their nas- ality ; young ladies discussing fashions and follies ; bucks strutting and boasting ; no daguerreotype has portrayed the features more strongly." Newark Daily. ''A charming volume, we commend it without reserve." Christ/tan In- er. ROBERT CARTER & BROTHERS. * " Tfcke care little girl, or you will slip in," said a pleasant voice. N*ni*cfTrnro. p.4S. NELLIE OF TRUEO BY THE AUTHOR O VARA: OR, THE CHILD OF ADOPTION. 1 NEW YORK: ROBERT CARTER & BROTHERS, No. 580 BROADWAY. 1 8fiO. Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1856, by ROBERT CARTER A BROTHERS, In the Clerk's Office of the District Conrt, for the Southern District of New York. STEREOTYPED BV PRINTED BT THOMAS B. SMITH. E. O. JENKINS, 8Z A 84 Beekraan Street. 24 Frankfort St P16B L A FLO-WEE PICKED AND ITS THORNS LEFT 7 n. A WILD-FLOWER IK A GREEN-HOUSE 16 III. A DROOPING BUD REVIVES AND DROOPS AGAIN 24 IV. TRANSPLANTED FLOWERS 33 V. A ROSE-BCD AND A YOUNG THISTLE 42 VI. DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND 64 VII. GENTLE TRAINING AND PRECIOUS FRUITS 63 VIII. PATIENCE TRIED, LOVE SURPRISED 73 IX. FELICITATIONS AND PRESENTATIONS 84 X. THE THISTLE BECOMES A GARDEN-PLANT 91 XI. THE WILD-FLOWER UNDER EXAMINATION 99 XII. VARIETIES OF THE SAME GENUS HOMO 107 XIII. A RARE SPECIMEN FOR THE HUMAN HERBARIUM... 114 XIV. A SPRIG OF GENTILITY MORE SHOWY THAN WORTHY. 125 XV. BRIGHT SUMMER-TIME AND A CHRISTMAS TALE 133 XVI. WISE HEADS ON YOUNG SHOULDERS 147 XVII. GARDEN THISTLES ARE THISTLES STILL 155 XVIII. FLOWERS WELL-SORTED AND A NEW SEEDLING 167 XIX. SPIRITUAL HUSBANDRY, SUNLIGHT, AND SHOWERS 176 2051293 YI CONTENTS. PAGB XX. THE TREES OP LEBANON MAKE THE THISTLE KING. 1 185 XXL PETALS OF CHARACTER UNFOLDING 192 XXII. NETTLES STING WITH BEST INTENTIONS 199 XXIII. SPIRITUAL DROOPINGS UNDER BAD CULTURE 214 XXFV. A FLOWER GATHERED BY A GENTLE REAPER... 224 XXV. LIGHT SORROWS AND HEAVY PLEASURES 234 XXVI. SOME THRIVING PLANTS, MORE WEEDS 243 XXVII. VILLAGE FRIENDS AND UNEXPECTED GUESTS 250 XXVIII. PLANTS WELL-ROOTED, TRIED, AND APPROVED 261 XXIX. SUNRISE: THE SPRIG OF GENTILITY ODOROUS 279 XXX. GENTEEL BEAUX AND VILLAGE BELLES 290 XXXI. DIAMOND TRUE DIAMOND 302 XXXII. A SPECIMEN OF HUMAN BRAMBLE 319 XXXIII. THISTLE OUT-ROOTED : BRAMBLE AND PASSION- FLOWER 333 XXXIV. ROSE-TREE AND THORN-BUSH AFFECTIONATE 340 XXXV. A BLIGHT ON THK ROSE-TREE 350 XXXVI. MILDEW ON THE THORN-BUSH 360 XXXVII. ROSE-TREE AND CELIBACY, THORN-BUSH AND MAR- RIAGE 369 XXXVIII. A GREAT HEART HORS DE COMBAT 375 XXXIX. A SUDDEN GUST AFTER BRIGHT SUNLIGHT 382 XL. ODORS OF PIETY IN STRANGE PLACES 390 XLL THE LOST FOUND 403 XLLL ORANGE BLOSSOMS AND MYRTLE 416 I. $, |iote f ickdr ana its f (pro f tft. " Not wholly in the busy world, nor quite Beyond it, blooms the garden that I love. News from the humming city comes to it In sound of funeral or of marriage bells; And, sitting muffled in dark leaves, you hear The windy clanging of the Minster clock." ALFRED TENNTBOir. ]\ /TR. HILL, the florist, was somewhat of a philosopher. *"-*- "Letitia," he said one day to his pretty daughter others called her " Hetty" " Letitia, there is a Providence " " Yes, sir," she answered abstractedly, not observing that her father paused to collect his thoughts. " Letitia," resumed Mr. Hill with some asperity, " there is, I say, a Providence in little things." "Oh," ejaculated Hetty, in an apologetical tone, as she transferred a geranium from a smaller to a larger pot. " Yes," continued Mr. Hill ; " American trees, ages ago, grew, decayed, and formed this rich vegetable mold which is to nourish the acacias I am now transplanting. And other acacias, now flourishing in India, thousands of miles distant, are providing catechu to tan the skins of animals that browse in American pastures. It is wonderful, is it not 2 Letitia ! do you hear me ?" "Yes, sir." " Why don't you answer, then ? What was I saying ? 8 A FLOWER PICKED " Talking about tanning, sir." " It 's easy to see," said Mr. Hill, jestingly, " where your thoughts are. Do you imagine every one feels as much interest in tanners and curriers as yourself?" " I am sure I " and Hetty tossed her head, either at the geranium or some imaginary person, " don't care a geranium- leaf for all the tanners and curriers in the world." " Except one," put in her father. "Father, I do wish you would not talk to me about George Hughes. I look a little higher in the world than to a tan-pit !" " Take care, Letitia," said Mr. Hill, exchanging the tone of raillery for one of serious concern ; " take care, or you may fall into a worse kind of pit than that. I begin to think that America is not much different from England in some things. There 's almost as much rank and aristocracy here as there ; only it 's money here, and blood there. No matter if a man has intelligence, he is looked down upon unless he has money too." " Letitia," said Mr. Hill again Mr. Hill prided himself on his botanical knowledge, and never permitted an inaccuracy to pass unconnected "why do you call pelargoniums geraniums ?" " Every body does, father." " Every body has not the same opportunity of learning the difference," answered her father, with evident vanity. " Ge- raniums and pelargoniums belong to the same natural order, but should not be confounded by a florist." Hetty received the reproof quietly, and nothing was said by either for a few minutes, when Mr. Hill, whose thoughts had got back to the old train, fell to philosophizing again. AND ITS THORNS LEFT. 9 " Letitia, as I was saying, there is a Providence in little filings. There now is George Hughes. I knew his grand- father in England, when I was a little boy. His grand- father came to America, and I never heard of him again. But now, I, grown to be an old man, have come to America too, and here I chance to fall upon old George Hughes' grandson : who knows what he may be to us yet ?" and Mr. Hill glanced archly at his daughter. " I don't ; and don't want to," she answered. But Mr. Hill resumed his gravity and the thread of his discourse, without noticing her reply. " The circles of life," said Mr. Hill, suspending his work, and flourishing his trowel in the air, "intersect at unex- pected points, and exert mutual and unsuspected influences. Behold the orbits of planetary motion," and the trowel and eye of the speaker were directed to the zenith, " how inti- mately related ! They have common centres, points of con- tact and intersection, and reciprocal influences. So with the circles of social life," and the trowel and eye came down again to the earth ; " they are often indeed identical when they least seem so. Individual lives start at different points on the same circumference, and seem to be widely distinct and separate. But one overtakes the other, their forces unite, their circles blend and melt into one, and the orbits of their lives forever after coincide. Thus man and woman, strangers to each other and unassociated in any way, unexpectedly meet, love, marry, and become one and inseparable." " Father," exclaimed Hetty, " there is Mr. Lee." Mr. Hill looked discomfited and annoyed ; it may have been at the interruption of his eloquence, or it may have been at a sly expression in the daughter's voice, which by 1* 10 A V L O Vi K H PICKED some subtle telegraph conveyed the idea that she connected his last words with the inappropriate appearance of Mr. Lee. Hetty retired to the furthest end of the green-house, and busied herself behind a tall japonica-tree that concealed her from sight. Mr. Hill received Mr. Lee with a less benevolent welcome than usually smiled in his fine, intelligent, good- natured face. " I came to look after my japonica," Mr. Lee remarked, after the first words of salutation were passed. " There it is, sir," replied Mr. Hill, pointing to the tree at the further end of the green-house, and resumed his work. Mr. Lee went directly to the japonica-tree, and stood for some time in an attitude of close examination over one of its most perfect flowers. Well did it merit examination. It was a pure white, and yet through the white there was the least tint of rose color, the least blush, or, as might be, re- flected blush of the rose. The petals were full, without over- crowding, each perfect in itself and slightly crimped and fringed at the edges. Beautiful as the flower was, and often as Mr. Lee had come to see it since it was a little bud inclosed in its thick, green calyx, he had never before bestowed upon it such close attention ; and Hetty, who stood unobserved, was for the first time jealous of her japonica. " Humph !" muttered Mr. Lee, as he turned from the plant with no very radiant face. His next exclamation was " Oh !" as he discovered Hetty standing so near him : there was some embarrassment in that " Oh !" Embarrassment in another helps a woman to self-posses- sion ; and Hetty's jealousy was completely covered by the ease of manner with which she returned Mr. Lee's salutation. AND ITS THORNS LEFT. 11 " Is not the japonica beautiful ?" she asked. " It is indeed," he answered. "You have been studying its beauties very minutely," she said again. " Yes," he answered ; " I came on purpose to see whethei it" He paused, and the awkward embarrassed air came back. " Well ?" asked Hetty, by way of encouraging his ideas, or his words, whichever were at fault. " Whether it were as pretty as you said it would be," he answered quickly ; " and I must acknowledge, it has verified your prediction. I almost believe it stole that lovely rose tint from your cheeks perhaps it is only a reflected beauty, that will fade away in another vicinity. Good morning." He talked fast, and left abruptly. If there was any thing unusual in his manner, Hetty forgot it in the remembrance only of his last words. The morning after Mr. Lee's visit to the japonica, Hetty was out and at work in the garden, when George Hughes pnssed by on his way to his work. It was early spring. The crocuses were just peeping through the packed and cakey ground. Every day was increasing the work for the florist and his daughter his only constant assistant in doors and out. To Hetty it was a work of love. Her English beauty shone ruddier than ever, and her English songs rung out from a joyous heart. She was singing now and did not ob- serve George Hughes, who, leaning on the fence, watched her for some time, with a thoughtful countenance. " Good morning, Hetty," he said, at length ; " you seem to feel happy this morning." 12 A FLOWER PICKED " Yes, indeed, George. I am so glad spring is come, and I can work out doors once more." With a singularly soft voice, coming as it did from a young man of rather rough exterior, George repeated these words : " Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away. For lo ! the winter is past, the rain is over and gone ; the flowers appear on the earth ; the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land ; the fig-tree putteth forth her green figs, and the vines with the tender grape give a good smell. Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away.' " " That is very pretty," said Hetty ; " very pretty," she repeated, as if thinking it over. " You know what book it is from, Hetty ?" asked George. " Oh, yes. I read the Bible too much to mother not to know at least, not to know where the pretty passages are." "You used to read the Bible to your mother," said George, with gentle earnestness ; " do you not now read it for yourself, Hetty ?" "Not as much as I ought, I suppose." "Why not'" " Oh, I have so many studies in the winter time ; and in the summer I am too busy at work." " What are you studying ?" " Geography, and history, and arithmetic, and " " And what ?" insisted George as she hesitated. " And French," she replied, with a little toss of her head. " Who teaches you ?" asked George. "Father teaches me geography and arithmetic; I read history by myself; and I took one lesson a week last winter in French from a regular teacher." A N D I T 8 T H O R N 8 1 B F T . 13 " Hetty, what use is there in your studying French I" asked George, in a disapproving way. Hetty colored a little, and then, evading the question, remarked that she believed George studied nothing but the Bible. " Well, Hetty," he answered, picking up his pail that car- ried his dinner, and preparing to go, " I have studied at least one text in the Bible, and I am afraid you will have to study it some day, too. It is this one, Hetty : ' We must through much tribulation enter into the kingdom of God.' " It was some hours afterward, that a servant man entered the green-house, with this salutation : " Miss Hill, I have called for that japonica, please ?" Hetty's scissors, busy that moment in clipping the dry leaves from a splendid La Reine, dropped from her hand, as she turned on the servant a surprised, startled, incredulous look. The man, like all of his class, was a gossip, and con- strued the flower-gill's silence into an invitation to talk. " Guess you know what that flower's wanted for, Miss Hill; don't ye?" " No," she answered, curtly, as she picked *p her scissors. " Now don't ye, Miss Hill ?" asked the man, following her as she walked hesitatingly toward the japonica-tree, at the end of the green-house. " Have n't ye heerd ?" " Heard what 2" asked Hetty, turning upon the man quickly. " Why," said he, hardly able to believe that she had not 4 heerd,' " how that Mr. Robert is to be married this very mornin' to Miss Theresa Jay ; and that japonica is foi the bride." 14 A FLOWER PICKED In an instant, almost before the words were out of his mouth, the flower was cut from the tree, aud, imbedded in moss, was transferred to the hands of the servant So then, this accounted for the unusual fact that Hetty had that morning already received orders for ten bouquets. And for this she had so long watched that japonica, from its budhood to its blooming. And herself, as her fluttering heart had dared to hope, was not the attraction to the handsome young man who had bespoken the flower, and had so often come to look at it and to talk about it. The brightest and foolishest hopes that had ever gleamed upon her poor little heart, were extinguished. It was like passing in a minute from mid-day to midnight. There was the experience of a life-time crowded into that one bitter moment. But no one knew it ; and if tears afterward fell on the maimed stalk where the japonica once bloomed, no one ever saw them. She did not weep then, however. She stood in a sort of thinking trance, gazing at the japonica-tree, perhaps five, perhaps thirty minutes, till the voice of her father called her to her senses. " Letitia, it is after nine o'clock, and you have not ar- ranged the bouquets." Bouquet after bouquet was called for and sent to its desti- nation ; and at twelve o'clock all the ten were gathered in a church, where the light streamed from a painted window on a wedding group ; and when the last sacred word was spoken, the bouquets rolled away in luxurious coaches to the home of the bride ; and no one ever knew that they were tied with heart-strings. But the flower-girl sat silent, aad, and listless, among her blooming flowers. And there ehe still sat, when, in the evening twilight, George Hughes AND ITS THORXS LEFT. 15 eiitered the green-house, and took his seat unobserved beside her. Long he sat and gazed at her iminoveable countenance. Did he read her thoughts her feelings rather ? Perhaps BO, for he leaned gently over her, while he whispered these words in her ear : " HE wore a crown of thorns, not of flowers, Hetty ; and He sometimes takes away the flowers and leaves the thorns for us, that we may learn His only power to save and bless." George was gone before Hetty, in her confused state of mind, gathered the meaning of what he said. But his words were not forgotten. And in her own room, on her knees, at the foot of Him who can be touched with a feeling of our infirmities, because He has been tempted like as we are, she wept her first tears over the rifled japonica and the hopes it emblemized. II. in a " I know not how others saw her, But to me she was wholly fair; And the light of the heaven she came from Still lingered and gleamed in her hair. For it was as wavy and golden, And as many changes took, As the shadows of sun-gilt ripples, On the yellow bed of a brook. 1 ' JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL. ROBERT LEE and Theresa Jay were married. The cere- mony was solemnized, by rule and rubric, in the dim religious light of the stained glass window of a gothic church. The red hues of a saintly visage, not beyond sus- picion of intemperance, fell on his face ; and the yellow tints from the glory of another saint, ' done' mostly in blue, ex- aggerated the sallowness of her complexion. Lawn sleeves shook down a blessing on their heads. Every one pro- nounced the dress of the bride exquisite what mattered the face 1 and the ceremony ' beautiful.' At the bride's house congratulations were duly received, ' good creatures,' edible and drinkable discussed, and bridal presents displayed to the shame of stingy aunts and uncles, and the disgrace of extravagant cousins and ' dear friends.' Then the ' happy pair' hurried away from the blaze of the fashionable world, to the fashionable enjoyment of a fatiguing tour by rivers A WILD-FLOWER IN A GREEN-HOUSE. 17 and railroads, lakes and turnpikes, till, in due course of time, they arrived at the country-house, not many miles from the city, where the groom was born, and where parents, sisters, and brothers were ready to welcome the bride. It was a large family : Robert was the eldest child, and his the first marriage. Great, therefore, was the rejoicing. But the happiest of all there was little Helen Lee, a flaxen- haired, blue-eyed sylph of five summers (for all the year round was summer to her), dancing, laughing, and romping in the buoyancy of a light heart and entire health. Brother Robert's arrival with a new sister, had been the subject of her thoughts and dreams for many days and nights. And when they came, she was the first to welcome them, after her father ; he helped them out of the carriage, and the rest stood within the great doorway ; but she was on the porch, and sprung to their necks the moment they stepped upon it. Sister Theresa gave her an indifferent kiss, and brother Robert gave her a kiss and a toss in the air ; and Nellie skipped away, happy in her own true love, and unsuspicious that they cared as little for her blue eyes and fair skin, as for her white dress and blue ribbons. Every day Nellie carried sister Theresa a bunch of flowers, and got a toss in the air from brother Robert, and never doubted but that they loved her dearly, as she did them. And when at last they went away and were to visit Europe, and not return for ever, ever so long, Nellie sat down and cried, as if she really believed that neither she nor they could be happy again till they came back. Robert and Nellie Lee's father resided in the house which his father, and grandfather, and great-grandfather had occu- pied before him : a venerable and spacious mansion built of 18 A WILD-FL O W K R gray stone that cropped out from the lulls tahind it. Va- rious additions, of various sizes and fashions, had been made to the original edifice, till it assumed the picturesque appear- ance of a whoL- village of houses, tumbled and clustered to- gether withou* much regard to arrangement. This effect was increased by the number of barns, stables, and out- houses, which protruded themselves at various distances and relative positions from behind the dwelling. A stranger, approaching the mansion for the first time by the main entrance, might suppose himself transported to some English baronial estate, that is, if he had never been in England. The distance from the road to the house, by the principal carnage-drive, was a quarter of a mile. The large gate, flanked by a porter's lodge, admitted you into a dense wood, neatly cleared of underbrush, and carpeted with grass. By degrees the woods thinned out, and afforded glimpses of the house. Then there were only clumps and clusters of trees, and here and there a single tree of uncom- mon size or beauty, in bold relief; and the grass between was softer and richer, showing evidence of shears and rollers. The carriage-drive now became an avenue, bordered on either side by a row of shade-trees, lindens, and English maples, with occasional elms, both American and English. At some fifty feet in front of the house, the trees ceased altogether ; the carriage-drive widened among the flower-beds and shrubbery ; and the house, seen only yet by glimpses, stood out plainly to view, a mass of gray against the green hill- side, impressing the beholder, by the suddenness of its dis- closure, with an extravagant idea of its extent and beauty. The main building, as the great-grandfather designed and made it, was a huge square pile of undressed stone, two IN A GREEN-HOUSE. 19 stories high, with a row of old-fashioned, frenchified, dor- mer windows, peering up above the eaves, out of the double- pitched roof. A piazza, elevated some five steps above the ground, crossed the entire front. The roofs of the house and of the piazza were carried up, at the centre of the front ele- vation, into a point, to give effect to the massive doorway, which was elaborately carved into rich moldings, and in- truded into the house from the front wall to the depth of eight or ten feet. A very grand affair that doorway was, an imitation of the entrance into some baronial castle, but not in keeping with the very plain exterior of the rest of the house, and wanting the flight of broad steps which the feudal prototype would properly have. The doorway opened into a hall some fifteen feet in width, running through the house, from front to back, without ob- struction of any sort. This hall, perhaps, with some attempt at the old feudal castle again, was ornamented with antlers and old worn-out fowling-pieces, and other trophies of the chase, when the great-grandfather had been a pioneer set- tler in the domains of the savage beasts and wild Indians ; and at the further end of the hall, on one side, was a large stand of muskets which had seen service in the French and Indian, and Revolutionary wars : and, on the other side, hung in double row, antiquated leather fire-buckets, a provision against an element which, shriveled, cracked, and corrugated, they could not now hold water enough to save themselves from. On the right-hand side of the hall, as you entered, were two immense parlors, with three windows front and rear. Beyond these parlors was the library, added to the main edifice by Mr. Lee's lather: built in gothic style, with a 20 A WILD-FLO WBR tower at the far end, surmounted by an observatory, giving to the edifice, to an outside observer, the appearance of a chapel. In the front angle, formed by the library and the house, the present Mr. Lee had built a cozy little sewing- room, expressly for Mrs. Lee. This was connected by a stair- way with a room of the same size above it, which was Mrs. Lee's dressing-room, and communicated with her bed-room. On the other side of the great hall, the front room, called " the oak-room," because wainscoted with oak, was the or- dinary sitting-room of the family : the back room, called the " tea-room," was originally the dining-room, and still served that purpose when the family was not large. Between the :>ak-room and the tea-room, was another wide hall, where the broad staircase, with its low steps and oak baluster, led to the upper stories. This hall afforded another entrance, on this the southern side of the house, which entrance was covered with a handsome square portico. Beyond the tea- room, Mr. Lee's grandfather had built a new dining-room, and beyond that again were the green-house and conser- vatories. The house was surrounded with lawns, avenues, groves, flower-beds, walks, and carriage-drives, planned with ad- mirable taste and kept in perfect order. Vines ran up the pillars of the piazza, and clambered, some of them, to the roof of the house. The southern portico was completley curtained with honeysuckles and sweet-briars. The open squares, formed by the dining-room on one side of the house, and the library on the other, were^lanted with a few choice flowering shrubs, in the midst of velvety grass ; and in the centre of each plot was a marble fountain, spouting jets of water, that the wind, as it pleased, blew about in feathery IN A GREEN-HOUSE. 21 spray over the grass. Around the graveled semicircle, di- rectly in front of the house, such )f the larger green-house plants as happened to be in bloom in the summer, were ar- ranged in their green-boxes, chiefly lemons, oranges, and cape jasmins, filling the atmosphere far around with their overpowering fragrance. Behind the house, at the distance of half a mile, a high ridge of hills, almost mountains, elevated themselves in many a craggy height and wooded eminence. The house stood on the gentle slope of a hill-side, and commanded an extensive view of the country in front. A little on one side, lower down on the same hill-slopes, was the pretty village of Cedarville ; and beyond that the eye was led along by the silvery thread of a little brook, to the broad margin of a mill- pond, with its picturesque grist-inill ; and beyond that there was a wide stretch of rolling country, descending gradually to the glittering bosom of a river, in which the brook at last lost itself; and beyond the river the land suddenly rose again, till it was upheaved into a range of rugged and jagged mountains, blue and purple, and often silvered and sparkled over with wreaths of showering mist. Such was " Truro," as the Lee estate was called, the home of Nellie Lee. A happy home it was. Nellie, to be sure, was of little account in the family. In that big house where every one could do as they pleased, without interference with each other, Nellie was often overlooked. A large family in strait- ened circumstances, afforos a healthful discipline ; every taste can not be gratified ; one must yield to another ; the general interests must be consulted to the sacrifice of indiv- idual wishes ; the habit of self-denial is fostered ; and in the 22 A WILD- FLOWER mutual regard of each other's welfare, and in the common struggles, sufferings, and joys, love is deepened and strength- ened. But where there is plenty of money and plenty of room, and each may go his own way and indulge his own inclinations, there may be, with no unkindliness of feeling, a selfish spirit, or at least a lack of quick and thoughtful sympathy and hearty interest in one another. So it was at Truro. Mr. Lee was a well-educated, agreeable, gentlemanly man, remarkable for the courtesy and cordiality of his manners ; admired by all, loved by many, hated by none. Mrs. Lee was distinguished by reticence, amiability and inefficiency. Robert, their eldest child, who had married Miss Theresa Jay, resembled his father, only with less intelligence and mental cultivation, and less courtliness of manners. He was nomin- ally a lawyer, but never practiced his profession. Next to Robert was Norton, a studious, thoughtful character, inherit- ing from his father and grandfather a taste for the natural sciences, which he gratified by accepting a nominal profess- orship in connection with the college of which he was a graduate. Rupert, the third son, was as unlike his elder brothers, as they were unlike each other. He had a horror of books, and but little taste for society. He loved horses, dogs, and guns, and was addicted to fishing, racing, and hunting ; he was a sporting character, and nothing else ; never would go to college, choose any business, or submit to any restraint. Charlotte and* Emma resembled their father in appearance, and were regarded as beauties ; Char- lotte had the most regular features, and Einma the finest eyes : they were fond of admiration, were full of themselves, and, without wishing harm to any, were very indifferent to IN A GREEN-HOUSE. 23 all the world beside. Maria, who came next in order, re- sembled her mother in appearance and general quietness of character ; she was frail in person, health and mind. Harry, the next in age, was as much like Nellie as a boy with dark hair and dark eyes, can be like a girl with light hair and blue eyes : both were impetuous, generous, brave and affec- tionate. Nellie loved Harry better than any of her brothers and sisters ; and next to Harry she loved Norton, who never came home without bringing her some little keepsake, most always a book about the natural history of bees or ants, or something of that sort, and never by chance a story-book. Nellie looked at the pictures, and then carefully placed the unread volume on a shelf, in her own room, which she had appropriated for the special keeping of brother Norton's presents. Nellie loved her other brothers and sisters too, though they had little in common with herself, and she never doubted if there could be better brothers and sisters in the world. If they soon tired of her fun, and said, " There, Nellie, that will do for this time ; run away, and do not bother me ;" she was ready to obey, with a laugh that rung and a step that bounded. If Harry could not play with her, Prince, the gray-hound, would; or, if Prince, for a wonder, was sleepy, the bright sky, the sunlight, the fount- ains, the flowers, or even the wet jack-stones in the walks on rainy days, or the snow in the winter, were sure to inspire her with amusement of some sort. Her heart, brimming full ot'joyousness, was easily nade to overflow. III. atfo " The lady died not, nor grew wild, But year by year lived on in truth I think Her gentleness and patience, and sad smiles, And that she did not die, but lived to tend Her aged father, were a kind of madness, If madness 'tis to be unlike the world." PERCY BTSSHE SITELLZY. TTETTY HILL had come from England with extravagant -*-* ideas of American democracy. Soon after her arrival, Robert Lee was attracted to the green-house. His visits were frequent. He always, indeed, had some ostensible er- rand ; but he always lingered long to talk with, the pretty English girl. What wonder if she, with her notions of republican equality, fancied a more tender sentiment in the young man, than the mere love of flowers ? Pleasant and poetical, and sometimes even sacred, were their talks of the flowers ; and many a tender word crept in, which might, or might not, be meant for the flowers or their mistress. But the dream was over now an untold dream, and un- suspected unless George Hughes had Daniel's gift, to read another's vision : but if he had, he never told it. George Hughes the tanner, plain-looking, straightforward, unpolished George Hughes what if his voice was soft, and clear, and pleasant ? what if he was the best, most pious, most respected of young mechanic's ? what if he was as kind ADBOOPING BUD REVIVES. 25 as a brother, too kind ever to speak to her of love ? How could Hetty Hill ever marry George Hughes ! His very clothes smelt of tan and leather : it needed all the flowers of the green-house to make his presence tolerable. Had not her father told her, that if she came to America she should be a lady, and might marry the best in the land ? And was she not more fit to grace a high station than many of the vulgar women, who came in splendid coaches, to cheapen her plants, and quarrel with her bouquets ? And had she not tried to improve herself, and read, and studied to the extent of her ability, that she might be worthy of position? and should she now put up with George Hughes ? But as George never asked her to put up with him, he was never put down by her. He visited on free and easy terms. He talked to the father, and. watched the daughter: and no one could be more quick and handy than he, at any little turn by which he could spare her steps, or her strength. He had the faculty of anticipating her motions, and would do things for her almost before she knew that they were to be done ; and he did them so quietly that she hardly knew when they were done. To have George help her was almost like helping herself, she was so used to it. Sometimes he would sit for whole evenings, talking to her father, and she, rapt in her own thoughts, or in some new book, would forget that he was present : and yet George Hughes was looking at her all the time. George had looked till he could see clear through and through her heart. He had discovered its am- bition ; he had read its hidden love ; he knew when the one was humbled and the other blighted. His heart bled for hers. Bat he knew that she was pure in thought, strong in (vill, and prayerful in habit ; and he never feared but that the 2 26 A DROOPING BUD REVIVES, one indiscreet sentiment of youthful inexperience, would leave her wiser and stronger to battle with the future. He came now oftener than ever ; and he oftener now sat by the daughter than by the father ; anl she began to appre- ciate the good sense, and the delicate and almost womanly feeling of the honest, burly, unpretending young mechanic. George always received a welcome, and was always ready to claim it : and she as much expected his escort to church on dark evenings, as if he had been a brother. And, when the days grew short and the evenings long, George became her fellow-student : he taught her arithmetic, and she asked him questions, by way of freshening his knowledge, in geography, and they read history together : and, in place of French, she accompanied him once a week to hear a lecture on chemistry, which, he said, would be useful to him in his trade, and might be pleasing to her as affording hints in reference to the color, fragrance, varieties, and proper cultivation of flowers. So the summer fled apace, and the winter passed away. " The daughters of the year, One after one, through that still garden passed : Each, garlanded with her peculiar flower, Danced into light, and died into the shade; And each in passing touched with some new grace, Or seemed to touch her, BO that day by day, Like one that never can be wholly known, Her beauty grew." Hetty was contented and cheerful. Less of a girl, more of a woman a lurking gravity in her smile, and a thoughtful tone in her laugh in all else, the same rosy-faced, joyous- hearted English girl who had of old divided with her flowers the attention of handsome, or would-be-handsome, young AND DROOPS AGAIN. 27 men and patrons. But she cared not now for them : she gave all their compliments to the flowers and took none to herself. She cared for George Hughes, though ; she did not herself know how much, neither did she know how much she was indebted to him for a tranquil and happy spirit. Mr. Hill, the florist, having lost his wife, resolved, in the mere restlessness of grief, to leave England and seek new scones in America. He came to New York and leased in the upper part of the city the half of a yet unbuilt, unim- proved square, in which stood an old tenement, in a tumble- down condition, and around which the mansions of the wealthy and fashionable were rapidly increasing in number and magnificence. His capital was invested in fencing in his lots, erecting a green-house, stocking it with choice plants, and cultivating the ground around. He had industry, skill, and taste. Wherever it was possible to make a soil, and in- duce flowers to grow, he did so ; and where it was not, he covered the staring, naked rocks, glittering in mica and spar, with English vines, trumpet-creepers, American clematis, syringas, and honeysuckles, red and yellow. Hetty, his only child, was his constant companion, and in- telligent and efficient assistant. The green-house was her special care; and all orders for bouquets were answered by her nimble fingers. A rare skill in arrangement concealed deficiencies in the variety of the flowers. No one came once, who did not call again; and the stock on hand in- creased, as customers multiplied. They had now been three years in the country, and were becoming femous. "Hill, the florist," was an acceptable adjunct to the embellishment of fashionable entertainments. And young ladies sometimes looked askance at bouquets 28 A DROOPING B0D REVIVES, that had been bought for themselves from the prettier flower girl. Stimulated by success, Mr. Hill secured possession of the other half of the square he occupied, with the design of extending his green-house, and enlarging his business. Early in the spring he was at work, putting up fences and prepar- ing the ground. One large boulder in the very centre of the plot must be removed. Hetty watched the process of boring, and listened to the incessant clink of the hammer and drill with a boding heart. She was not used to powder, and she had a vague fear that somebody would be hurt. Supper was ready on the table, and Hetty had called her father, but he was anxious to make the first blast that day. " All 's ready now," he said, as he ran into the house to get the matches ; " listen, and you '11 hear it." "Oh, father," cried Hetty, placing herself between him and the door, "please don't go near it. Give me the matches, and I '11 give them to the Irishman. He can do it without you." " Nonsense, child, let me go ; there 's no possible danger." " Father, I 'm so afraid," and Hetty began to cry. " Why, Letitia, what on earth is the matter with you. I thought you had more courage ; come, come," and he kissed her. " I '11 promise to be very careful : and you must put your trust in God." She let him pass her : and she laughed at herself, as she wiped her eyes. But though she dreaded being too near, she felt compelled to follow her father, that she might see for herself that he was safe. The match was applied, and the father and the Irishman fled for safety behind the fence where Hetty stood. They waited and waited, but no explo- sion followed. Cautiously Mr. Hill looked over the fence, AND DROOPS AGAIN. 29 Hetty pulling him down all the time. He thought he saw what was the matter. The Irishman, in running, as Mr. Hill observed at the time, had set a stone rolling, which rested on the fuse. " There was no use staying there any longer," he said, in answer to Hetty's entreaties ; " it would not go off, if they staid all night." And breaking from her he ran round the corner of the fence she looked after him he stooped down to pick up the little stone, the supposed cause of the difficulty, and, in the instant, came the deafening discharge, and the flying of the broken fragments : and, before the smoke was cleared away, or the sharp broken fragments had ceased to fall, Hetty was bending over her father ; his gray hair was soaked in blood, and he was stretched senseless on the ground. With the aid of the Irishman, she carried him into the house, and laid him on his own bed in the little sitting-room, and while the Irishman was dispatched for a physician, she washed the blood from her father's head and face ; oh, what a fearful gash it was ! His eyes were closed, his hands warm, but there was no pulse, no sensible motion in his heart. Still she believed that he lived ; and still she bathed his face and hands with .water, with whisky, with whatever she could find at hand. The physician came. A few others, to whom the Irishman had communicated news of the acci- dent, looked in for an instant, and disappeared ; there were few in that neighborhood, happily, who would be attracted to the sjcene of the casualty, and those who did come, shook their heads and ran away. " Young woman, have you no friends to call in ?" asked the doctor 80 ADBOOPING BUD REVIVES, " What do you' wish, doctor ? I can do every thing," was her distracted reply. " There is nothing to be done," answered the doctor, as gently as he could. " Nothing, doctor ? oh, please try." As if to satisfy her, the doctor bared the arm and struck his lancet in, no blood came : he pointed to the rapid change that was passing on the countenance, and bid her feel his hands, now cold. " Tell me, young woman, where your friends live, and I will send them to you." She mentioned the street and number of George Hughes' mother's, and the doctor left her alone with the dead. She sat by the bed-side with her tearless eyes riveted on that calm, venerable face, till it grew too dark to read^g features. The light was still glimmering in through the green-house sashes. Not knowing what she did, for she was in a maze, she followed the rays of sun light that crept among the flowers. How fresh and beautiful they looked, so unconscious of the presence of death. And yet they wore a sombre beauty in that dim light ; the birds had ceased their, songs, and only a breeze from the upper sashes swayed a branch here and there with mournful motion. Hetty sat down on a vacant place among the flower-pofs, on the shelf that ran along the side, and rested her head on her arm, on the rim of a large flower pot. She was not grietpng, for she was not thinking. She was in a state of mental atn|phy. She heard a step behind. She started, and, at Ae same instant, remembered that it could not be her fabler, and recognized George Hughes. Big tears were rolling^'down his cheeks, and his chest was heaving with uncontrollable sobs. AND DROOPS AGAIN. 31 The sight of sympathy awoke her from her dreadful apathy. " Oh, George," she exclaimed, and burst into tears. They wept together, hand in hand, her head on his shoulder, like brother and sister. How kind the Hughes were. George helped Hetty through the inquest which some officious official set on foot ; and he and his mother, and his sister Lucy staid at the house all night. A long line of carriages followed the hearse to the ceme- terey ; and the papers took special notice of the sudden death of " Hill, the florist," and recorded the fact, that " as a mark of respect to his memory, the very first families sent their car- riages to the funeral." The truth was that Mrs. Jay, being largely in Mr. Hill's debt for flowers, had expressed to Mrs. Ephraim Jones, great concern at the sad catastrophe which had befallen " that excellent man, Mr. Hill," and remarked, that if she only knew when the funeral was to be, she did not know but she would send her carriage. Mrs. Ephraim Jones was getting up in the world, and wished to be, or at least to appear, on terms of familiar intimacy with Mrs. Jay. Here was a chance not to be neglected. She did not inquire why Mrs. Jay did not ascertain by means of a servant, when the funeral was to take place, if she really wished to know- It served her purpose to ascertain the fact for her, to be seen calling twice on the same morning in a sociable sort of way on Mrs. Jay, and to be able to couple that lady's name in the narration, of the affair with her own. With these laudable ends in View, the sympathetic Jones hastened to the scene of the catastrophe, and sent in her footman, brilliant in the gold-lace of a new livery, with "the compliments of Mrs. 32 A DROOPING BUD REVIVES. Jay and Mrs. Jones, and wished to know when the funeral was to take place." This done, Mrs. Jones hurried back to Mrs. Jay with the information, and the assurance that her own carriage should be in attendance also : and then made some dozen other calls, in the course of each of which, she introduced the subject of " poor Mr. Hill's death," and vol- unteered the information that " she and Mrs. Jay intended to send their carriages to attend the funeral at four o'clock that afternoon." The consequence was that some really fashion- able, and a host of would-be-fashionable people, sent their equipages to follow the remains of the florist to his last rest- ing place. Hetty's English taste was not displeased with the ceremo- nial cortege ; and if she needed truer sympathy, she had it in the tears of the few plain friends who wept with her, over her father's grave. IV. f ttftffltfttefe JfI0toer. So oft the doing of God's will Our foolish will undoeth! And yet what idle dream breaks ill, Which morning light subdueth; And who would murmur and misdoubt, When God's great sunrise finds him out?" ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING. TT was the evening of the day after the funeral. George * and Hetty sat in the little room behind the green-house. They could not bear to light the lamp, for that used to be the signal for reading the paper to him who once occupied the vacant arm-chair. But the moon shone in softly. The green-house was full of the pearly light ; each twig and leaf stood out distinctly ; and the air was loaded with perfume. "Hetty," said George, gently breaking the wistful silence with which they had been* gazing on those plants, yet so fresh from the touch, and redolent of the memory of the good florist ; " Hetty, I have n't told you the news. I have been offered an eligible place in the country a tannery where I can carry on business for myself. Shall I ac- cept it?" " Oh ! George, how I shall miss you !" was her vehement reply. " Can you get along without me ?" he asked, emphasizing the pronouns. 2* 34 TRANSPLANTED FLOWERS. " Oh ! George, I have tried to think and plan, but I can not. I never thought and planned so much in all my life before, as I have to day. But it 's no use. I can 't see my way. My only comfort was that I had you to tell me what to do, and help me to do it. Oh, how can I do without you !" She ended with a sob, and the sob was succeeded by such a violent fit of weeping as she had not indulged before. The extent of her misery, the loneliness and helplessness of her orphanage, in a strange land, were made too painfully apparent by the possibility of the removal of the only arm on which she could now lean. All power of self-command was lost. Sho bowed under the sense of her bereavement as a wilted flower vender a burning sun. George moved his chair close to hers, and put his arm around her. " Hetty," he whispered, but she took no heed " oh, Hetty, Hetty !" but she did not answer, and he cried too. Hetty at once became more quiet, and the violence of her sobs was succeeded by a gentler flood of tears. " Hetty," said George, again, " can you not think of God ? look to Jesus ; trust in Him !" " Perhaps so, George, if you '11 stay and help me." " Hetty," said George, earnestly and tenderly, " you must not trust in human help. ' Cease ye from man, whose breath is in his nostrils ; for wherein is he to be accounted of?' " But Hetty wept on, and George continued repeating tho words of Scripture. " Thus saith the Lord, Cursed be tho man that trusteth in man, and maketh flesh his arm, and whose heart departeth from the Lord. For he shall be like the heath in the desert, and shall not see when good cometh ; TRANSPLANTED FLOWERS. 35 but shall inhabit the parched places in the wilderness, in a salt land and not inhabited. Blessed is the man that trust- eth in the Lord, and whose hope the Lord is. For he shall be as a tree planted by the waters, and that spreadeth out her roots by the river, and shall not die when heat cometh, but her leaf shall be green ; and shall not be careful in the year of drought ; neither shall cease from yielding fruit." He was silent again for a few minutes, and then he added the injunction of the Apostle : " Be careful for nothing ; but in every thing by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God. And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus." The extraordinary voice of George Hughes was never more perfectly modulated, and its soft, musical, assuring tones would have conveyed the sentiment to Hetty's heart, even if the precious words had been Greek instead of Eng- lish. George waited till she was composed, and then he took her hand in his. " Hetty," he said, " I am sorry I made you feel badly. You did not understand me : I asked if you could get along without me I I now ask, Hetty, if you think that I can get along without you ?" " Oh ! George, I do believe you will miss me. How self- ish I am. I never thought of you, and what you would suffer in going to a strange place, away from all your friends." " But must I go away from * all my friends ?' " George asked. " May I not take one of them with me ? the one I love best of all. Will you let me go away all alone, to an empty house, with no Hetty to take care of it and me ? no 36 TRANSPLANTED FLOWERS Hetty to talk to and read with? and help me along in be- ginning life for myself ? will you, Hetty, will you ?" His manner spoke his wishes more plainly than his words. There was some surprise in her face, as she looked in his, while he was speaking. But when he waited for her an- swer, it came without attempt to disguise the willing heart- iness of her consent, and the real pleasure she felt at this un- expected way of arranging her affairs. She was so conscious at that moment, though it was for the first time, that she loved him dearly ; and so sure, that he loved her ; and they were so necessary to each other ; it was so right, so proper for her to belong to him, that she could not, if she had tried, have assumed an air of diffidence or hesitation. Cordially she gave herself to him ; and brightly the sun of her hap- piness shone out from the dark clouds, with only some sor- rowful tears, that her father could not give his blessing. Long they sat and talked of what was to be done. None of the furniture in that house, so dear to her, should be sold ; they would need it in the new home. And some few of the flowers, favorite ones at least, should be spared from the auctioneer's hammer. " George," she said, when these business arrangements were concluded, " I am not half good enough for you." " You did not always think so, Hetty ;" he answered, archly. " Oh, I was a foolish young thing then," she said, " and you had not taught me how to think of myself and others, as you have since, George." " Well, Hetty, I tell you what I think," said George with animation, " I think I am none too good for you, and you are none too good for me ; but we are just suited to each TRANSPLANTED FLOWERS. 87 other. We were made for each other ! I always knew it, and was always sure it would come to this." The entrance of Lucy Hughes, who came to spend the night with Hetty, ended the conference. When the light was struck, Lucy was astonished to see the face so recently overshadowed with hopeless sadness now smiling serenely, and her brother's grave countenance radiant with happiness. But Hetty made her way quickly out of the room, and left George at his leisure to give the necessary explanation. With pious care George and Hetty strewed the florist's grave with the spoils of the green-house. Hetty chose those plants he loved best, and some because he had last tended them and they were associated with his last words and last smiles. Some she planted in full bloom, though she knew they would die, and others so choice and delicate that they must perish for want of care, but they would first shed their sweetness over him who once delighted in them. Others there were, as many as could be, which neither drought nor cold would kill, to lend their beauty and at- tract the eye of the stranger to that spot when " his chil- dren" were far away. At last her work in the old house was done. For two days she had been busy packing, or bundling together, all kinds of household stuff, in all kinds of boxes, trunks, bags, and wrappers of all shapes. Sometimes tears had started, and she had been lost in tender reveries over mementoes of old times but she was to part with none of them, only to treasure them up in her own new home. But the old house ! that she could not take with her ! She stood in the little sitting-room with her bonnet and shawl on. How 58 TRANSPLANTED FLOWERS. miserable it looked, denuded of its furniture. Her eye turned to the glass door that opened into the green-house. There nothing had yet been disturbed. What % beautiful, gorgeous scene it presented. The western sun was hidden from the sitting-room, by the tall houses on the next square, but his gleaming rays streamed in at the further end of the green-house, and grew more brilliant as they rested on the flowers. The effect was heightened by the dim twilight and deserted aspect of the room in which she stood. The one all gloom, the other intensely joyous. Canaries, in their round cages, were singing their blithest songs ; and every leaf and blossom was dancing in the vivid brightness. Yellow jasmines, the crimson metrosideros, blue lobelias, and the bell- shaped maurartdia, purple and white, kissed each other as they swung backward and forward from the upper lights, or drooped over the little moss-covered baskets from which they were pendent. Camelliais, red and white, azalias, pink, white, yellow and purpjp, cactuses, with silken tassels, fuch- sias, trembling on their stems, geraniums with clustering flowers, myrtles, lemons, and oranges, with their glossy leaves, a few roses those of the most delicate beauty and highest culture, that only now rewarded the care of the long winter and crowds of heaths, mignonettes, heliotropes, French violets, and other little plants, modestly blooming in the foremost ranks all mingled their odors in one over- powering fragrance, and blended their various shapes and hues into one mass of brightest coloring. Happy fancies played about the heart of the flower girl. " Such," she said to herself, " is the happy future into which 1 am about to pass ; I shall step from under the shadow into the light ; and such, only more glorious, is the home father TRANSPLANTED FLOWERS. 39 has exchanged for this. He left this home sad and gloomy enough," and she glanced around the empty, dusky, sitting- room, " but oh ! how full of joy, beauty, and splendor must be the Paradise of God !" She heard George's voice. Its liquid tones melted into the scene, and formed a part of it. He was calling her from darkness to light, from sorrow to joy. But his time was precious now, attending to her affairs and his own too, and only waiting to gather a generous bouquet for his mother, and select the cage and bird she was to give to Lucy, she hastened to join him. Instead of Lucy's coming to stay with her, she was to go and stay with Lucy. She was leaving the old home, but the sunlight in the green-house had crept into her thoughts, and lighted them with beaming hopes, and with a buoyant heart and light step, she accompanied George to his mother's house. George Hughes succeeded in selling Mr. Hill's unexpired lease of the house and garden for a good sum. The flower auction brought extraordinary prices. Mrs. Jay and Mrs. Ephraim Jones had put their imprimatur on every thing be- longing to "Hill the florist." To be at the auction, to pos- sess some of the plants, and to bid high for the sake' of the orphan daughter, was, for the time, essential to support a claim to a position in fashionable society. The street was lined with carriages, and the green-house crowded with beauty, pretension and extravagance. It became evident, indeed, that Mrs. Jay and Mrs. Jones expected some little reduction in their bills, some small personal favors, in con- sideration of their regard to Mr. Hill, and all that they had done for his daughtei But Cicorgc Hughes had his own 40 TRANSPLANTED FLOWERS. way of meeting such meannesses, and exacted all that was just, more tenaciously because of the contemptible littleness that would withhold it. After the auction Hetty visited the old place once more. It was stripped now of every thing, and the men were carry- ing away the very sashes of the green-house. She could only ramble through the garden and wonder if such and such flowers would come up again, or if the weeds would smother them ; and she sighed to think how much she loved was buried in the earth, never to gladden her sight again. For four weeks George was away ; then he returned : and there was a quiet wedding in his mother's parlor. Lucy was bridesmaid, and her little brother Charlie was grooms- man, with a white ribbon in his button-hole. George and Hetty bade all good-by, and before it was evening they came to the old tannery, that stood by the little babbling brook, in the very centre of the village of Cedarville. This was their home. Hetty was astonished to find how much George had ac- complished without her, and how much he had done to please her. Instead of a very few of her favorite flowers on the window seats, he had enclosed with glass sashes the south side of the kitchen, and had opened a door there into the kitchen, which was also to be their sitting-room, and in that diminutive conservatory stood nearly every plant she had ever expressed any particular interest in or love for. There was even the tall japonica-tree, and one fine lemon, besides precious English daisies, such as grew on her own mother's grave, under the shadow of the ivy-clad church. The furniture too, how natural it looked ; how much like TRANSPLANTED FLOWERS. 41 home. Hetiy questioned with herself whether it were in- deed only that morning that George and she were married. It seemed to her as if they had always been married, and this had always been their home ! V. Jl $0$*-btt& anfr a |0ung f feisth. " I 've often wondered, honest Luath, "What sort of life poor dogs like yon have ; An' when the gentry's life I saw, What way poor bodies lived ava." ROBERT BURNS. tE village of Cedarville bad grown up, or rather sprung up, for it was never known to grow at some remote point of antiquity ; perhaps the beauty of the site had had some generative quality, and its twenty or thirty houses had emerged spontaneously, full-grown, just where the hand of an artist would have placed them. Having once emerged, however, they had been kept in existence and tolerable re- pair, partly by the good condition of the farms in the country lying around, and chiefly by the neighborhood of the Lee estate, by whose combined patronage were sustained one minister and one doctor, one tavern, one store, and one black- smithery, one tailor, and shoemaker, one milliner, one dress- maker, and one of every other kind of artisan essential to the entity of a village. Besides these, there were several small fanners, whose possessions ran back from a narrow frontage, up and down the hill, on either side of the one street. That one street was no straight line, pointing due north and south, drawn by chain and needle, and stalking prag- A ROSE-BUD AND A YOUNG THISTLE. 43 matically over every man's property without asking leave, or license. It was no segment of a turnpike road, stretched ' taut and tight,' over the country, in defiance of the pre- vailing curve of beauty, and looking as prim and awkward as a village girl in stays among the rustic graces. The Cedarville street was as ductile as a river ; undulating up and down, and round about the knolls and eminences that thrust themselves out in all sorts of irregularities, on those sloping hill-sides. It was a grass-grown street, save where the carriage-tracks marked the line of travel with a thread of brown enameling on a green ground, winding about to avoid the rough places, meekly turning the corners of large gray boulders that protruded themselves in its path, or sway- ing deferentially to the one side or the other of majestic trees, that grew incontinently in the verdant bosom of the street, usurpers of the right of way, or circling around the clumps of cedars, which survived, here and there, to attest the propriety of the village name mementoes of a growth that once extensively covered the face of the neighboring hills. Near the center of the village, and on the highest point of ground within its limited extent, stood the old stone church. Stone walls, moss-covered, inclosed its graveyard, and swept with a gentle curve from either side of the church outward to the street. A prim semicircle of poplars, some twelve feet from the stone walls, formed the other side of a carriage-drive, up to the very doors of the church. Next to the graveyard, on the south side, toward Truro, was the old parsonage, directly on the street, protected from it only by the descent of a little knoll, and a primitive well, which rested one end of its long wooden beam, heavy with a big stone bound fast by iron clamps, on the very spot 44 A ROSE-BUD where the road, if straight, would have run. A long and low 8tory-and-a-half house, built of shingles, the oldest and least cared for house in the village, broken-backed, as the down- ward curve in the roof testified, crazy-looking and dilapidated, was the parsonage. Here lived, in single blessedness and un- complaining, nay, cheerful discomfort, good, modest, sensible, worthy Mr. Poole. Did any one suspect that the brightest punlight in the village streamed from the neglected old par- sonage, and had its particular source in the quaint little study, where the good pastor, with such light from without as could get in at the diminutive, cracked panes of the long, narrow windows, communed with God, and gathered things, new and old, from the Lord's treasury ? Following the road up in the direction of Truro, Steve Ball's blacksmith shop, and small stone house, Mr. Slater's store, and whitely painted residence on one side, and the pretty school-house, and Dr. Lowe's grave-looking abode on the other side, were the most noticeable objects. Directly opposite the church was the best and the only modern house in the village, now uninhabited. It went by the name of Bedminster House, because built and owned by a Mr. Bedminster ; who, having acquired some property in the city of New York, fancied life in the country ; but after a year or two in the quietest of all quiet villages, lost his fancy, shut up the house, and resumed the respectable busi- ness of retail grocer in the city. The house stood some hun- dred yards from the street, and was almost shut out from sight by ornamental trees and shrubbery, in the selection and arrangement of which, Mr. Bedminster had secured, for a consideration, the taste of a celebrated horiculturist. Following down the road from Truro, past the church and ANDAYO UN G THISTLE. 45 Bedminster House, you came by a gradual descent to a rivulet, that murmured across the road, and went winding about the. fields on the other side, till it found its way, first, into the big mill-pond, and then, in a fuller stream, to the broad river in the far, far distance. By this rivulet, "A trotting burnie wimpling through the ground, Its channel peebles, shining, smooth, an' round," stood the tannery. The tan-pits, and the sheds, and wooden frames for stretching skins, and the large unpainted building in which they were dressed, were on the south side of the rivulet, among a grove of willows, far back from the street, and a lane led up to them. The modest two-story house, which George Hughes and his bride had transformed into love in a cottage, stood near the street, on the rising ground, the north side of the rivulet, with its kitchen on the end nearest to it, and a little stone dairy further back, directly in the rivulet's path. There was a gate by the brook, and a path running diagonally from the gate to the kitchen door, and another path from the door of the house, to the gate directly in front of it. George Hughes had made still an- other path along the pebbly brink of the rivulet to the dairy, and thence to the back door of the kitchen, and along all these paths he had dug up the ground a yard wide for flowers. Beyond the tannery, and on the south side of the street, was Deacon Hayes' ample stone house, and stretching back from both sides of the street his well-cultivated farm. Further on, were the smaller dwellings of the tailor, and the shoe- maker. Where the road forked, and one branch led to the mills, stood Tim Whittaker's tavern ; and beyond that, there 46 A ROSE-BUD were only three or four houses before you were out of the village. We have said that Cedarville had its one shoemaker : and so, strictly speaking, it had. Yet, just beyond the village, in the opposite direction from Truro, there was another, duly announced by his sign-board, as "James Stryker, Fashion- able Boot and Shoemaker." That James Stryker, "fashionable boot and shoemaker," had no business in Cedarville, was emphatically true. lie had learned his trade with the village shoemaker, fallen in love with the only child of a widow, and, when the mother died, married the daughter and took possession of her inheritance. Having thus got a house, entertaining no speculative thoughts of selling it and seeking his fortune elsewhere, he at once settled himself, put out his sign, and applied his energies to such work, chiefly in the way of cob- bling old shoes, as came to him. James Stryker was not ambitious, and cobbled on, contented with his lot. The house Mr. Stryker had married into was within ten feet of the road, a story-and-a-half wooden tenement, with a dimin- utive kitchen attached ; and, attached to the kitchen, a pigmy shop, once a shed, till Mr. Stryker's fertile genius boarded up the sides, and inserted in them three small windows. The house had no superfluity in the way of hall or entry. It was one room square ; the stairs to the little loft above, ran up one side of the room, the front door opened, when it opened at all, which was' seldom, into this room ; and in this room, one window with pale blue, unglazed paper hangings, kept solitary watch over the road, and two windows with green paper hangings, looked out on the hills behind, where the high-post bedstead that stood against one of them did not AND A YOUNG THISTLE. 47 prevent the looking out. Mr. Stryker's residence was painted white in front, and red every where else. The garden ran along by the road, on the side furthest from the kitchen. The front yard was unornamented, save by a ragged group of lilacs, a chance growth of weeds and grass, and two or three hap-hazard, zig-zag paths. A well-worn paling marked the extent of Mr. Stryker's territories, and bore evidences of an occasional coat of white-washing, which was washed off almost as fast as it was washed on. _, Here ' lived Jim Stryker, the son of James Stryker, " fashionable boot and shoemaker" ; what could he ever have to do with Nellie Lee, who lived in the noble mansion at the other end of the village ? For six years they had lived within sight of the same church steeple, without seeing each other: at least, Nellie never recollected having seen Jim Stryker, till one morning, when she was between six and seven, and Jim might be some fourteen years of age. Nellie had that morning ventured further unaccompanied (Prince was with her, to be sure, but he was nobody for protection), than ever before. She had come down to the village by the shortest way, had passed through its one long street and advanced into the country beyond as far as Mr. James Stryker's. She was skipping along, just as she pleased, with her bonnet in her hand, and her flaxen curls blowing about in the sunlight, when Jim Stryker's ugly dog set up a barking at her. Jim Stryker himself came out of the house to silence the dog ; his red hair stood straight up from a narrow, but rather high fore- head ; his face was covered with freckles, where it was not burned too red with the sun for the freckles to show them- selves ; his gray eyes were small and looked savagely out 48 A ROSE-BUD from eyelids terminated by invisible lashes ; his pantaloona of coarse, blue stuff, were hitched on one side, by a single suspender, eked out with a leather string, over a ragged shirt ; his feet were bare and dirty. Jim Stryker called the dog inside of the gate, and when he was silenced, took to growling himself. " She had better be about her business," he said ; " the dog would leave her alone if she left the dog alone." Nellie did not like his rude- ness at all : she was not frightened by it, she only wondered at it as something new and strange in her experience. She thought she liked the dog's master less th'an she liked the dog: and she thought that that house, was a place where none but such a boy, and such a dog, would care to live. She never said a word to Jim Stryker, but she called Prince, and turned and walked away quite demurely. She put her bonnet on her head, and did not run or skip, but kept think- ing about Jim Stryker and his dog, and their house. Nellie walked on till she came to the little brook. There she stopped. The rippling water, the round stones, and the little killies, quite drove out of her mind Jim Stryker and his dog and their house. She found it very amusing to walk over the big stones, instead of the bridge. She tried to make Prince imitate her, but he would leap over at a bound, and was too dainty to wet even the soles of his feet. " Take care, little girl, or you will slip in," said a pleasanl voice. It was such a bright, rosy, smiling face that looked down upon her over the paling, that Nellie had a great mind to *" * ask whose it was. And it was such a bright, fair, smiling face that looked up at the rosy, one, that the rosy t'ace could not help asking the fair one, whose it was. A KD A YOUNG THISTLE. 49 " What is your name ?" asked the rosy face. " Helen Lee ; they call me ' Nellie.' " "May I call you 'Nellie?'" " To be sure you may. But what shall I call you ?" " My name is Letitia Hill oh, no, Hughes, I mean. They used to call me ' Hetty,' so my name is something like yours." " Hetty and Nellie," repeated Nellie, " Hetty and Nellie. Is n't that funny ?" and she laughed as if it were an irresist- ible joke. " But why did you say that your name was Hill, when it 's Hughes ? Don't you know your own name ?" " Oh !" and the rosy face grew rosier, " I was only mar- ried yesterday, and I am not used to my new name yet." " Only married yesterday !" and Nellie laughed as if that was the funniest of all jokes. " Why then you are a bride, and ought to receive calls. May I come in and call upon you 3" " Yes, indeed ;" and Hetty opened the gate to let her little visitor in. Nellie met her with an air of mock gravity, and courtesy- ing very low and speaking very demurely, she said : " How do you do, Mrs. Hetty Hughes ? I wish you joy." Her salutation was returned with proper etiquette ; and then both laughed outright. " What kind of flowers are you planting, Mrs. Hughes 1" asked Nellie ; for that lady had a trowel in hand, and there were roots and papers of seeds, and bundles of cuttings strewed along the paths. " All kinds. These are violets here ; double violets, sweet- er than the common ones. Did you ever see any ?" " Oh, yes," said Nellie. " Do you like flowers 3" asked Mrs. Hughes. 3 50 A ROSE-BUD "Oh, yes," said Nellie, giving strong emphasis to both the interjection and affirmation. "Here is one our gardener gave me this morning. He said it was like me," and she pulled a yellow crocus out of her bosom. " Why did he say that was like you ?" " He said the crocus was a saucy little thing, that came up laughing and bright when every thing else looked grave and sober, and so he said it was like me. I suppose he thinks I laugh too much. Sister Charlotte says I would be quite pretty, if I did not laugh so much." " Does she ?" asked Mrs. Hughes with apparent surprise. "Yes," answered Nellie innocently, and then asked, as n new thought occurred to her, " Where did you 1m-, Mrs. Hughes, before you were married ?" "In New York," she answered ; " where do you live f " I live at Truro. Do you know where that is 3" " Seems to me I have heard the name before," and Mrs. Hughes tried to recall what association she had with it. " Is it far from here ?" " Oh, no ; it is just on the hill. Look, you can see the house over the trees up there. Do you like being married, Mrs. Hughes <" " Yes," she answered, smiling. " Would you like to be married ?" " I should like it if brother Robert were my husband. He was manied last year. Sister Theresa didn't make as pretty a bride as you, though." Hetty began to have some glimmering remembrance now of when she had heard of Truro. " What," she asked quickly, " did you say your last name was, Nellie f ' , " Lee," answered Nellie. AND A YOUNG THISTLE. 61 " Yes, so it is," said Hetty, thoughtfully. " Did you have any presents when you were marricv* 2" asked Nellie in her quick way, " sister Theresa had a great many." Mrs. Hughes took her to see her flowers. " Those were her bridal presents," she said. Nellie thought they were pretty; but queer presents to give a bride. " Sister Theresa had jewels of all sorts and a great many other things which she did not bring with her to Truro." Nellie grew animated in describing Theresa Lee's bijouterie ; but Hetty Hughes hardly heard her : she was taking how strange it was, that she should be talking to Robe^ Lee's sister, and should have come as a bride to the very place where his bride had come ; but she envied that bride neither her costly trinkets, nor her handsome hus- band. Nellie was so pleased with the English daisies, that Mrs. Hughes put some in a very little pot, and the child scampered away with them to put them in her own corner in her father's green house, till it should be warm enough to trans- plant them into her own little garden. The very first Sunday after Hetty Hughes came to the tannery, and Nellie Lee had scraped acquaintance with her, it so happened that Mr. Poole urged upon his parishioners the duty of sending their children to the Sunday school. He said that all the baptized children of the church be- longed to the one body ; were members of the same family ; were equally under the care and discipline of God's house, and should be associated in receiving Christian instruction ; that in the Sunday school some were taught what they never 52 A ROSE-BUD could learn at home ; and others were brought under pious influences, which were not necessarily exerted at home, or which, at least, gave additional zest and force to parental and domestic training : and that all should come, if for no other reason, for example's sake, and for the purpose of lessening and softening the lines of social demarcation. Nellie had never attended Sunday-school ; but she was to go now. Jim Stryker was to go, too ; Mr. Poole had talked to his parents about it, and they had said he should. So that very afternoon, Nellie Lee found herself sitting side by side, as it chanced, on the same bench, with Jim Stryker, waiting, with other new scholars, to be properly distributed among the classes. Nellie recognized Jim Stryker, and wished he did not sit quite so close to her : very happy she was when Mr. Poole led her away from the uncomfortable proximity ; and happier yet, when Mr. Poole consigned her to the care of her new friend, Mrs. Hetty Hughes, who, like herself, was there for the first time. If Nellie recognized Jim Stryker, he was not conscious of her presence. Older and larger than most of the scholars, he felt awkward and abashed : he thought every one was looking at him, and did not dare look at any one. Not that Jim was troubled with modesty, or even diffidence : he was rather bold and self-confident, and after that first day was as much at his ease in the Sunday-school as any one. The Sunday-school met in the pretty school-house near the store. The classes in which Hetty and Jim were placed, sat on opposite benches on either side of the superintendent's desk, not ten feet apart. If either looked up from their book they were sure to look in the other's face. And there they looked at each other, without ever speaking, Sunday after AND A YOU NO THISTLE. 58 Sunday, till they became used to it, and as much expected to see each other in the Sunday school, as they did to see their teachers. Thus Nellie Lee and Jim Stryker grew up together in the same village, seeing each other but once a week, seldom hearing of each other, never exchanging words: one, the child of wealth, refinement and culture ; the other, the asso- ciate of ignorance and rudeness, and hardly raised above suf- fering poverty ; the two moving in circles so separate and distinct, that all intimacy, and even possibility of connection seemed for ever interdicted. VI. Jim0nb Cut giam0tt&. "He speaks plain cannon, fire, and smoke, and bounce; He gives the bastinado with his tongue; Our ears are cndgel'd." SHAKSPEAKB. MR. AMOS GRAVES, to whose class in the Sunday- school Jim Stryker was assigned, signified his inten- tion of calling upon Jim's parents on the next Saturday afternoon. The expectation of this visit kept the Strykers in a state of nervous excitability during the rest of the week ; it was a fomenting source of disquietude, diffusing itself throughout the whole household and confusing the ordinary routine of domestic operations ; it hurried the washing on Monday, and the ironing on Tuesday, and set the scrubbing-brushes to work on Thursday; it made Jim surly and Cinthy reck- less, Scip the ugly cur snarlisb, and the red, sleepy, swill- fed cow disposed to kick at milking ; it sharpened the im- patience of Mrs. Stryker's voice, and silenced the lugubrious songs with which Mr. Stryker, " fashionable boot and shoe- maker," was wont to solace the hours devoted to cobbling, and it plunged that gentleman into frequent fits of abstract- ed reflection. How an expected visit from Mr. Graves, who would stay, when he did come, only a few minutes, hardly long enough 1) I A M N 1> C C T D I A M O N D . 55 to observe whether " things were to-rights," or to-wrongs, could mix itself up in all the household " chores" and thoughts, requires for its explanation some acquaintance with Mr. Graves himself. He was a man to make an im- pression ; a visit from him could be no ordinary affair ; and a visit from him, formally announced a week beforehand, would have been anticipated with trepidation by other fam- ilies in the village, more used to Sunday-school teachers than were the Strykers. Mr. Amos Graves (" young Mr. Graves" Cedarville people called him ; they called him so, not because he was youth- ful either in years, or in appearance, but because he was a clerk in Slater's store, and from time immemorial juvenility had been a supposititious characteristic of clerkship in the Cedarville store ;) Mr. Amos Graves was pious. His piety stood out from his character on every side in bold relief; you could not look at him without seeing it, nor hear him speak' without hearing it. His black, straight hair, his square, exact shoulders, his measured, sedate walk, his se- rious voice, his solemn manners, his entire innocence of the remotest approach to hilarity and his invariable habit of twisting every theme of conversation into a means of re- ligious improvement, all testified, that through and through, from his heart's core outward to the extremity of the long forefinger with which he gesticulated, Mr. Graves was pious. Mr. Amos Graves was an exotic in Cedarville. He had come to Cedarville from the neighboring town of Mont- gomery, where he had served a long apprenticeship, and had enjoyed religious privileges, the want of which he was ever lamenting. The tone of piety in Cedarville did not ac- cord with his. Mr. Poole's preaching lacked life and power. Otf D I A M O N D C U T D I A M N D . There was little alarming or arousing in his ministrations. He seemed to take it for granted that all who professed to be Christians, were Christians, and that those who made no profession, were almost persuaded to be Christians. In- structive preaching was good sometimes, but Mr. Poole was too instructive. Mr. Amos Graves was not a saint, the good old ladies of Cedarville to the contrary notwithstanding. Neither was he a hypocrite. If Steve Ball, the blacksmith, called him a hypocrite, it was because Steve Ball did not like to be talked to in so serious a way, and did not relish Mr. Graves tee- total temperance opinions, and did not have very clear no- tions of the exact definition of that easily misapplied epithet " a hypocrite," and was not ever very nice and accurate in the use of language. Mr. Graves, whatever Steve Ball, Tim Whittaker, and men like them might say, was a good, sin- cere man, without intellectual force, and scant of common sense ; and his associations in life had not supplied these natural deficiencies, or rectified an innate want of tact and discrimination. His mind, destitute of sentiment, dwelt upon the more salient points of religion, and in his endeavor to let his light shine, he emulated the burning brilliance of the sun, forgetful that his rush-light could not shine beyond the limits of a very narrow and modest illumination. But how- ever inopportune or offensive might be the pious efforts of "young Mr. Graves" to make others coed, he was himself a good man ; Mr. Poole said so ; Mr. Poole never said such things lightly. Saturday came. Dinner at the Strykers' was a hurried meal Through the whole afternoon a constant look-out was maintained, as if Mr. Graves could leave the store at ao DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND. 57 early hour. Mrs. Stryker, having completely " done up" her work, was sadly in want of occupation, and indulged herself in such maternal and conjugal endearments as she was accustomed to give vent to, such for instance as the fol- lowing : " I say, Jim, you have n't washed your feet." " I say I have," was the surly reply. " You, Cinthy, you, keep off that 'ere gate I tell you now ; if you do break them hinges, I '11 give you a walloping." " Yes 'm," answered Cinthy, still swinging as hard as ever, till the leather hinges creaked. " James," speaking to her husband, " hain't you finished them slippers? It's jist one month this day since Sue Stokes ordered them. And there's Tom Spear comes a'most every day to ask for hizzen, till I 'm most a tired to see, or answer 'm." These episodes were varied by an occasional resort to the yellow-horn comb, that lay convenient for family use, on the shelf or bracket which supported the broken looking-glass in its cherry frame ; and Mrs. Stryker smoothed her golden locks till they could be no smoother. Mrs. Stryker was a tall, bony, red-haired, energetic woman. Mr. Stryker was slow, easy, and imperturbable. Cynthia, their youngest child, was a frightened-looking, heedless, homely creature, some ten years old. Jim took after his mother in looks and character. He was not like her, impetuous, nor subject, as she was, to fits of anger ; he was always cross-grained and impracticable, uniting a good share of his father's obstinacy to his mother's activity, and having a dash of Cinthy's timidity, where there was a show of power or cause for alarm. 3* 58 D I A M O N D C U T D I A M O N D . After a week's preparation, when at last, late in the afternoon, Mr. Graves made his appearance, the family were unprepared for his reception. Cinthy, having given the gate an uncomfortable hang downward, by hanging herself upon it the whole afternoon, discovered him in the far distance, an- nounced his approach, and straightway hid herself on the stairs in the little parlor. Jim marched, whistling, to his usual hiding-place, the cow-shed. Mrs. Stryker, seized with a sudden panic, shut the door, dragged the table into the middle of the room, filled a basin with water, and, when Mr. Graves knocked, was scouring the table with all her might. Mr. Stryker was too hard at work on Sue Stokes' slippers, to be supposed to hear the knock. Mr. Graves knocked. Mrs. Stryker opened the door half- way, and stood in the opening, wash-cloth in hand, the image of inhospitality. " How do you do, Mrs. Stryker ?" Mr. Graves formally in- quired. " Tol'able. How is 't with yerself ?" " I am thankful to say that I am well, Mrs. Stryker." " P'r'aps you'll walk in and set a minute," and Mrs. Stryker opened the door. " Thank you, ma'am ;" he walked in and helped himself to a chair. " Don't let me disturb you, Mrs. Stryker." " I hain't doin nothin ;" and Mrs. Stryker hastened to wipe off the table, and remove the litter she had so unnecessarily made. " Is Mr. Stryker at home ?" " I '11 see." The tap of his hammer was distinctly audible, and Mrs. Stryker knew he was in as well as she knew he had not been out the whole afternoon. DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND. 69 Mr. Stryker ' was in,' and came in, and shook hands with Mr. Graves, and took his seat on the door-step. u You were working, Mr. Stryker." Mr. Stryker nodded. " The Bible says, continued Mr. Graves, " ' Work while it is called to-day.' I hope, sir, you '11 not neglect that work. You must give account of yourself in the next world, and you 're an awfully wicked man, Mr. Stryker." " H-a-y ?" interrupted Mr. Stryker, with a sudden start, unusual in him, but not preventing his habitual drawl. " I say," repeated Mr. Graves, " that you, Mr. Stryker," and Mr. Graves pointed his finger at him, by way of designation, or emphasis, " are an awfully wicked man !" " Look-a-here, Mis-ter Gr-a-ves," and Mr. Stryker assumed an attitude of contemptuous indifference, " it hain't manners to blackgaurd a man in his own house, and as what you say hain't true, and my old woman knows it hain't, and you know 't 'aint, you 'd better take care how you say 't agin." Mr. Graves waited till Mr. Stryker had delivered himself, in his slow way, of this, for him, remarkably long and ener- getic utterance, and then replied with all the solemnity pecu- liar to himself. "Mr. Stryker, your good opinion of yourself is only a proof of the dreadful depravity of your heart. Your whole soul is corrupt : from the crown of your head to the sole of your feet, there is no soundness in you. You are covered with runnnig sores I speak morally, or spiritually, Mr. Stryker. You are in the broad road that loads to death. If you should die now, you would be damned. Do you love God ? Do you serve Him \ Do you pray to Him ? Do you honor Him ? No, Mr. Stryker. You do not. I fear 60 D I A M O N 1> C V T D I A M O N D . you seldom ever think of Him ; and now, Mr. Stryker, with- out going further, have I not shown that you are an ' awfuF sinner ?" " S'pose you have," drawled Mr. Stryker, " if it 's total de- pravity, as Mr. Poole calls it, I s'pose I Ve got it." " Yes, Mr. Stryker, you have : and you, too, Mrs. Stryker ; and you are both going to the wrath to come." Mrs. Stryker grew red in the face. " I have come, my friends," continued Mr. Graves, " to re- prove you for your sins ; especially for the way in which you bring up your children.'' This was too much for Mrs. Stryker's temper. She spunked up now, fiercely. " Hain't nay son Jim honest, Mr. Graves ?" she interrupted. " Yes, ma'am, so far as I know." " Hain't he industrious ?" " I believe so." " Hain't he got as good schoolin as we could 'ford to give 'm, better larnin nor mine nor hizzen," pointing to her husband. " I do not question it, ma'am." Mrs. Stryker looked as if she would like to ask what he was " jawin about," then. But she smothered her wrath, while Mr. Graves explained himself, " Yes, Mrs. Stryker, all that you say is true. But you have neglected the one thing needful. You have not taught him to seek first of all the kingdom of God." Mrs. Shyker looked down, and began plaiting her apron. But she was not yet vanquished, and entered strenuously on self-defense. " I take him to church, Sunday, Mr. Graves. I tell 'm not to lie, nor steal, nor swear. I taught him to say ' Now I lav DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND. 61 me down to sleep,' when he was a youngster. And if I hain't sent 'in to Sunday-school afore, it were because we live so fur, and it were u't al'ays convenient." " Mrs. Stryker," Mr. Graves replied, in the same calm, de- termined way in which he had spoken before, " it is my duty to tell you that you ought to have done more, much more for the spiritual interest and eternal salvation of your son. You ought to make him read the Bible every day. You ought to talk to him about death, judgment and eternity. You ought to pray for him. Above all, you ought to seek a new heart for yourself, that you may set him a good example, and lead him in the right way." These were home-thrusts. Mrs. Stryker winced under them, but thought it wise to attempt no reply. Mr. Graves resumed, in a milder and more winning tone; " Mrs. Stryker, you wish to do your duty to your children. I hope you will begin now, and will second my efforts in be- half of your son's everlasting welfare. Please, Mrs. Stryker, be particular to send him regularly and punctually to school on Sundays, and have an eye to his learning his lessons faith- fully. Will you, Mrs. Stryker ?" He paused for a reply, and Mrs. Stryker faintly murmured something about "trying to." Mr. Graves asked to see Jim. After many unavailing calls at the front and the back doors for Jim, and for Cinthy, the latter emerged from her hiding-place, and sought and found Jim under the cow-shed. Mr. Graves addressed him in his usual startling style. Jim liked it. It was spiced to his taste, and secured his attention by alarming his fears. Mr. Graves, before leaving, asked and obtained permission to offer a prayer ; and his prayer was so earnest, appropriate, 62 DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND. and Christianlike, that it obliterated the impression of un- pleasant feelings from Mr. Stryker's mind, and soothed the irritability of his wife. Such was Jim Stryker's Sunday-school teacher. Teacher and scholar were admirably suited to each other. If Mr. Graves frightened Tommy White, who shrank away from him to the furthest end of the bench, and made Bill Ball laugh in his face by what Bill called, " his solemncholy sighs," and " thunder and lightning" exhortations, he did more for Jim Stryker than a gentler teacher could have effected : his bold, direct accusations, his fierce denunciations of sin, and his startling appeals took hold of Jim Stryker's conscience, and wrung harsh music out of his heart, the chords of which could only vibrate to a bold touch, and a nervous hand. VII training anfr f mi0us Jtmts. " Ton came to this life about a necessary and weighty business, to tryst witt Christ anent your precious soul, the eternal salvation of it: this is the most neces- sary business ye have in this life; and your other adoes, beside this, are but toys, and feathers, and dreams, and fancies ; this is in the greatest haste, and should be done first." SAMUEL RUTHERFORD. A BOUT the time that Mr. Graves was leaving the Strykers, *"* Nellie was tripping up the garden walk of the tannery with a bunch of flowers, and a face more radiant than they. She entered by the green-house door, for that stood open. Her bounding step was arrested on the threshold by the sound of a manly voice in prayer. She had never seen Mr. Hughes, but was sure the voice was his, it was so pleasant, just such a voice as her teacher's husband would be likely to have. She stepped softly to the open glass door that led into the kitchen. The table against the opposite wall, covered with a white cloth, showed that George and his wife had just finished their supper. The Bible lay where George's plate had been, and George and his wife knelt side by side, with their backs to the table, and their faces toward the door. Nellie, following her childish impulse, knelt too. The prayer was simple ; if it had been made for the purpose, it could not have been better adapted to her comprehension, Never before had she listened attentively and intelligently to a prayer from beginning to end ; now, she was so interested 64 GENTLE TRAINING, that the others were rising from their knees before she stirred ; she hardly knew the last word was pronounced, for it was not a loud and abrupt, but a soft and gentle ' amen,' that George and Hetty breathed out together. What a pretty picture it was, that presented itself to Hetty, when she opened her eyes. The little girl with clasped hands and closed eyes, kneeling under the japonica- tree : one large flower (just such a one as Hetty had once watched from its budding to its blooming) directly over her head, and her own forgotten flowers lying on the floor before her. It was a singular combination. That child, under that japonica-tree ; the white flower like heavenly innocence, almost touching her brow, and the brilliant bouquet lying rejected on the ground, as if an emblem of the discarded pleasures of this world. Hetty Hughes had a poetical tem- perament, and read the picture and its emblematic sugges- tions with a quick apprehension of its beauty, and their sig- nificance. The serious impression that the prayer imprinted on Nellie's face, passed quickly away, and the beaming smile came back as she gave the flowers to Mrs. Hughes, and an- swered the salutations of Mr. Hughes. She staid but a minute, for she was not so free to talk before the grave hus- band as she was to the sprightly wife. Hetty Hughes found herself prompted to the work of self- examination that night. Why did she take so lively an in- terest in that child, more than in any other of her new pupils ? Was it merely owing to the attractive beauty and manners of the child ? or, was there not, partly at least, an interest in her as the sister of Robert Lee ? and did she not AND P R E C I O U 9 FRUITS. 65 feel that interest deepened and quickened, when she saw the child kneeling under the japonica-tree ? and did she not at that moment associate her with that brother ? All this she had to confess. But why was it so ? why should she re- member Mr. Lee at all ? why, above all, should she love any one for his sake 1 She believed it was her duty to analyze these feelings, and fearlessly and candidly to deal with the truth. Was she sorry that that early dream of love had not proved a reality ? No. Did she not love George Hughes dearly, dearly, and would she not rather have him a dozen times over than Robert Lee, though he was a rich and hand- some gentleman ? Yes, she was sure of it. Had she ever really and earnestly loved Robert Lee? No; she had enter- tained toward him only a flattering, romantic sentiment, which might have ripened into something more true and tender, had he proved worthy. Then, what were her feelings toward Mr. Lee at this time ? Did she hate him ? No. Did she despise him ? No. Did she even dislike him ? No. Had he given her just cause to do either? No, she believed not. They had fancied each other, undoubtedly ; and he, thought- lessly perhaps, had visited the old green-house in New York, always on some plea of business, not knowing that the place had a peculiar attraction to himself; not suspecting that he might be exciting in the mind of a very young and inex- perienced girl, hopes of more intimate relations, which she could not regard as he did, as absurd and not to be thought of. This, she now saw, was the true state of the case : and she felt assured that she might love Nellie Lee, even for her brother's sake ; and might associate her with that japonica- trce. Yes, that flower, that overhung Nellie's head should repay her for any pain which a flower, which once grew 66 G E N T L K I K A I N I N O , there, had caused. She would regard Nellie as especially given her to love and to bless : perhaps it was for this, as well as for certain valuable lessons on life and duty, that some things had been permitted to happen. Hetty came back from these thoughts to the delightful conclusion that she did love dear George Hughes with all her heart : and she went to him, where he sat by the open door that looked toward the tannery, and smoothing back his hair from his broad, dark forehead, kissed him so lovingly that George had to give her the kiss back again. George was something of a necromancer. He could read others' thoughts. At least, so his wife opined, for he always read her transparent heart. Had he been thinking all this while about his tannery, toward which his eyes were directed ? Hetty half doubted it, for his first words were so appropriate to what she had been thinking about. " Hetty," he said, drawing her down to his knee, " He that knoweth the end from the beginning, and ordereth all things according to his wise and holy purpose, links the events of our lives together in such a way that one draws another after it as a necessary consequence ; and often it is a pleasant consequence of a disagreeable antecedent. Many a thing happens, not for its own sake, but to prepare the way for, and interest our minds in something far different, and far more desirable. The Psalmist, having described the provi- dence of God toward the children of men in many particu- lars, concludes with this admonitory promise : ' Whoso is wise, and will observe these things, even they shall under- stand the loving-kindness of the Lord.' " Nellie's visits to the tannery were often repeated. Some- AND P BE CIO US FRUITS, 67 times she went to carry a plant, begged from the gardener of Truro ; sometimes to see whether a bud near blooming in Mrs. Hughes' garden had opened ; and sometimes she went simply because she liked to go, nor was it seldom that George and Hetty Hughes, when they rose from their knees at evening prayer, were greeted with the smile of little Nel- lie Lee. But come when she would, and for what she would, she was always welcome. She soon learned that Mr. Hughes' quiet, grave ways, were very cheerful ones, and she felt almost as much freedom with him as with " cousin Hetty," as she chose to call her teacher. The youngest of a large family is apt to be both the most neglected and the most petted. This was the case with Nellie Lee. Whatever attempts at the education of the minds and hearts of their elder children Mr. and Mrs. Lee had personally put forth, were exhausted before Harry and Nellie came in for their share. Mrs. Lee was incapable of exerting a very positive influence of any kind ; she was a quiet, gentle, sensitive, lady-like cypher in the world, loving retirement, truly conscientious and blamelessly good without force of intellect or will, in religious matters scrupulously governed by Mr. Poole, and in all others religiously con- trolled by her husband. Mr. Lee, while fondly indulgent to his children, never entered largely into their sympathies, nor seemed sensible of any special responsibility in regard to their training. He could not indeed treat Nellie just as he did his other children. She was not one to be thrown off and uncared for. She would force herself upon attention. She would be noticed and she would be loved. The father was attracted to her more and more as the unique and not unlovely traits of her character disclosed themselves. Yet 68 GENTLE TRAINING, the interest he felt in her failed to arouse him to a sense of duty, or to any effort to influence the development of her character for good. The lack of discipline on the part of the parents, was not supplied by the elder brothers and sisters. Norton, the only one capable of it, was away from home ; Robert was too much a man of the world ; and Rupert too much a man of the turf; Charlotte and Emma were too much engrossed with themselves ; and Maria was too inefficient, if she had been old enough. So Harry and Nellie grew up as they might. Harry, indeed, at an early age, passed from under home influences to those of the boarding-school. Nellie was left, in a manner, all alone. Even the nurse who was hired to take care of her infancy, was appropriated as ladies' maid by Charlotte and Emma, so soon as Nellie could possibly dispense with her services. And Madame Dupon^eau, the governess, was too much occupied in finishing off the educa- tion of the elder sisters, to bestow much attention on the elementary instruction of the youngest. So Nellie was over- looked by all who might have exerted an influence over her. She ran wild with Prince, her dog ; and did what she chose, and when she chose, without license, or hinderance. What would have worked the ruin of most children, did Nellie less injury than a slight degree of over-restraint might have done. Affectionate, warm-hearted, and full of hilarity, it was hard to spoil her by giving her too much liberty. The only serious faults this wrought in her character, were self-will and impetuosity, manifesting themselves in outbursts of anger when unused opposition was offered to her wishes, as brief as they were violent. Here the Sunday-school teacher's gentle influence was felt for good. AND PRECIOUS FRUITS. 69 None but the joyous, child-like spirit of Hetty Hughes 3ould entirely comprehend and sympathize with the un- tamed, frolicsome spirit of her little pupil. They loved and understood each other, for both loved the flowers, the birds, the bubbling brook, the loud and mirthful laugh, and merry and blithesome songs. What wonder then if the one soon led the other to the love of Jesu.s. " Oh. cousin Hetty," cried Nellie, one day, " here is a new flowur I never saw before. What is it ?" " That is the lily of Palestine, Nellie. I found that one bulb in an old desk, where father had put it for safety, and where it was likely never to be found again." " I thought the lily was white," answered Nellie, " but- this is a beautiful scarlet." " That explains what Jesus said," replied a pleasant voice behind her, not cousin Hetty's but George Hughes' : " Con- sider the lilies of the field how they grow : they toil not neither do they spin ; and yet I say unto you, that even Solo- mon in all his glory, was not arrayed like one of these.' " George had come into the garden in search of his wife, and engaged her attention some time in conversation. When George was gone, Hetty observed that Nellie was seated on the grass, looking at the lily, and apparently lost in an un- usual fit of musing. " What are you thinking about, Nellie ?" she asked. " I was thinking about flowers and things," she answered, abstractedly ; and then, as if suddenly waking up, she asked with animation. " Cousin Hetty, do you think Jesus loved flowers ?" " I do not doubt it, Nellie. But he loved litt'e children better. He never said much about the flowers, nor, so far 70 ULNTLE TRAINING, as we are told, gave them much attention. Perhaps, Nellie, He was too busy." " Too busy ! Did he carry on any business ? I hope He was n't a tanner, for I can hardly love even Mr. Hughes foi having such an ugly business." " No," Mrs. Hughes answered, laughing. " He was not a tanner. It is supposed He was a carpenter, though. But it was not any such kind of business I meant. He was busy another way. Even when He was a boy, not much older than your brother Harry, He said to His mother ' Wist ye not that I must be about my Father's business ?' " " What did He mean ?" Nellie asked. " He meant the business of His Father in Heaven." k< And what was that ?" she asked again. " It was to make a way by which we could go to Heaven, and to teach us what that way is." " Oh, yes. I understand now what you mean. I never thought before, though, that this kept him very busy. But, Cousin Hetty, how do you know that He loved little children more than He loved the flowe; s ?" Cousin Hetty seated herself on the ground and with a very serious voice repeated the words, " ' What shall it profit a man if he gain the whole world and lose his own soul : or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul ?' " "Do stop, Cousin Hetty, and please tell how you know that Jesus loved children." " Why, I was going to tell you," answered her teacher, in the same voice. " If Jesus valued the soul more than the whole world, flowers and all of course He must have loved AND PKECIOCS FRUITS. 71 little children who have immortal souls, far better than the flowers." Nellie looked thoughtful and dissatisfied. " Cousin Hetty," she said after a little, " that is not a good answer." " * Is not a good answer ?' Why not ?" asked her teacher, perplexed. " I don't know why : only it don't answer the question I asked, whether Jesus loved children better than flowers ?" Hetty Hughes sat and thought for some time. At last the light broke in upon her and she laughed at her own simplicity. In the anxiety of the teacher, she had answered as a teacher, and not as a child. "I know what you mean now, Nellie," she said. " Yes, Jesus liked, or 'loved,' as you call it, little children even better than He did the flowers. He liked to watch them, and listen to them, and fondle them. He tells us in one place just how they used to play, and I never read the passage without thinking of Him sitting in the temple, watching the little things, and listening to every word they spoke. And then when they brought young children to Him to bless them, He not only blessed them, but took them up in His arms and laid His hands upon them. And another time He put a little child on His knee, and preached to his disciples a ser- mon about the child." " Cousin Hetty, if I get the Bible, will you read me those places ?" "Yes." Nellie scampered off to the house, and returned again in a minute with the Bible, and Mrs. Hughes read these words : " They are like unto children sitting in the market-place, 72 G E N T L E T R A I N I X G . and calling one to another, and saying, We have piped unto you and ye have not danced ; we have mourned to you and ye have not wept" " And they brought young children to Him, that He should touch them ; and his disciples re- buked those that brought them. But when Jesus saw it, He was much displeased, and said unto them, Suffer the little children to come unto Me, and forbid them not ; for of such is the kingdom of God. Verily I say unto you, whosoever shall not receive the kingdom of God as a little child, he shall not enter therein. Aud He took them up in his arms, put His hands upon them, and blessed them." "And He took a child and set him in the midst of them : and when He had taken him in His arms, He said unto them, Whosoever shall receive one of such children in My name, receiveth Me.'" Thus, precept upon precept, line upon line, here a little, and there a little, the holy Gospel was flowing into the heart of Nellie Lee, and forming her character in Gospel love and tastes and habits. vm. u Pleasure that comes unlocked for is thrice welcome; * * * * and the day it caino Is noted as a white day in our lives." SAMUEL BOORES. ONE evening, a few weeks after they had come to Cedar- ville, George and Hetty Hughes received a call from good Deacon Hayes. " I have called," he said to George, " to ask your name to a subscription. Young folks, just beginning life, ain't ex- pected to give much. But we would n't pass you over on no account, it would n't be neighborly, nor Christian neither." " What is the subscription for ?" George inquired. " To repair the old parsonage. Don't know how it is to be repaired, it 's so old and shackling. It 's gone so long without nothing done to it, it 's most to pieces ^ shingles off, ceilings down, doors and windows all askew." " I 've observed," said George, " its bad condition. I should think it hardly worth repairing." " That 's a fact," the deacon said. " But here, all of a sudden, Mr. Poole 's taken it into his head to get married ! Of course the parsonage must be put in some sort of order. There's nobody would care to take him to board, if he brings a wife along, even he wanted them to." " Going to get married !" interposed Hetty, waking up 4 74 PATIENCETRIED: now to the interest of the subject : " I thought Mr. Poole was a confirmed old bachelor." " Mr. Poole is n't a bachelor, he 's a widower." " Is he ?" " Yes. He was married when he first came here. But his wife died soon after, and he never got another. He 's a contented sort of man, and 's lived on from year to year without thinking about it, I guess. His sister took care of him. But she died last winter, and I suppose he 's felt lone- .y and unkempt-like, and so has come to the conclusion to get a wife." " I hope he '11 get a good one," said Hetty. " She 's very well spoke of," said the deacon. " Does 'she live here ?" inquired Hetty. " No ; she 's the widow of a clergyman, oflf in Pennsyl- vany somewhere." " Has she any children ?" was the next question. " I believe not. She were n't married but a while when her husband died. I suspect she and Mr. Poole felt a sort of fellow-feeling and sympathy for each other. They've always known each other, folks say." While this conversation was going on between Mr. Hayes and Mrs. Hughes, George was forming a plan of his own. " Mr. Hayes," he said, at last, " the parsonage, you think is not worth repairing. It was built, I have been told, be- fore the Revolutionary war, and, judging from the outside I have never been inside it would take more than a revo- lution to make it comfortable. Now I Ve been thinking it might be a good plan to purchase Bedminster House for a parsonage." Deacon Hayes dropped the subscription book, and gazed LOVE SURPRISED. 75 at George with astonishment on every line of his face. The idea was " pro-dig-i-ous !" as if the minister of Cedarville could live any where but in the old parsonage ; or as if the Cedarville people would think of giving the minister the best house in the village. Mr. Hayes was too stupified with the grandeur of the thought to reply, and George resumed : " That property is useless to the owner, and is going to decay. I do not doubt it could be bought cheap. The old parsonage lot might be added to the graveyard, which needs enlarging. Why not, Mr. Hayes ?" " Tush ! nonsense ! young man. Don't bring your city notions up here. Your city ministers can live in big houses : their people can afford it ; but country ministers must be content to have things not quite so good as their neighbors. You must n't judge of our means by your city church. We are poor folks here." " Some city churches are poor, too, Mr. Hayes," George replied. " In the one I belonged to, every man of us worked for his living. Most were mechanics, some laborers, with a sprinkling of little tradesmen, milliners, mantua-makers, and so on. Yet we managed to make our minister comfortable, and to give away a good deal besides." " Well, well, Mr. Hughes, country folks have different ways. Our minister would n't seem like our minister if he lived any where but in the old parsonage. And if he had a better house than the rest of us, he might get proud." " A vice Mr. Poole seems in no danger from," said George. " We Ve no fault to find with him in that respect. He 's an humble, godly man, sir." " Are his people generally attached to him ?" George asked. 70 PATIENCE TRIED: "Mr. Poole hasn't an enemy in the world, as I know of. We all love him, and have reason to. To be sure, he 's not a great man : many a minister's more learned and eloquent and active. But he suits us. He's been here now let's see it 's twenty-two years last winter. He does well enough for our plain sort of folks." " I am afraid, Deacon Hayes," said George, " the Cedar- ville people hardly know the value of their minister. He seems to me a man of uncommon sense and piety ; and, ex- cuse me, Deacon, I judge he is a man of more learning than you imagine. And though he is not eloquent, as you say, he is one of the most instructive and interesting preachers / ever heard. I think, too, that his twenty-two years minis- try has done much to make you the quiet, honest, industri- ous, happy, church-going people you are. I doubt if there is another village in the country where every body goes to church, as they do here." " Yes, sir. Mr. Poole 's done a good work. He '11 have his reward : and we '11 know how to love him better in Heaven. But if we loved him ever so much, we could n't buy Bedminster House so there 's no use talking up that." " Well, Mr. Hayes ; it 's not for me, a stranger, to urge the matter. I '11 give what I can toward repairing the old par- sonage." George wrote his name, and glanced over the other names, and the amounts appended to them. " I wish we could buy Bedminster House," said George, speaking, as if to himself. " I almost wish we could," said the deacon, in the same tone, " Mr. Poole 's worthy of it." " I do not see Mr. Lee's name here, deacon," said George. " No. We Ve not called upon him yet," the deacon an- LOVE SURPRISED. 77 swered. " We usually do what we can in the village, first, and he most always doubles the whole sum of our subscrip- tions." " Mr. Hayes," said George, in a modest, suggestive way, as one that would not dictate, nor urge his own wishes too far, "suppose you just mention to Mr. Lee it would do no harm that the purchase of Bedminster House, for a parsonage, has been spoken of: ask him what he thinks of it." Mr. Hayes turned the matter over in his mind. " Well," he said at length, " I guess I will. Some how since the notion 's got into my head, I rather like it. I don't like giving up the old parsonage, neither. I'd a leetle rather it would tumble down, than be torn down and that after my old head 's too low to see it. Howsoever, it can't stand much longer; and it would be a sort of comfort to me to know, if I was dying, that Mr. Poole would be comfortable when I were n't here to look after him. Fact is, somehow, they 've always left the minister to my care, and I hain't taken as good care of him as I might." " Perhaps," said George, " Mr. Lee might take a fancy to the idea, too ; who knows ?" " Sure enough !" answered the deacon, animated by the hope ; " I tell you what I '11 do. I '11 go directly up to Truro before my courage cools off, and ask Mr. Lee what he does think of it." George volunteered to accompany him, influenced partly by an unwillingness to let the old man take so long a walk alone, and partly by the hope that a word or two from him- self would help the matter to a successful issue. Mr. Lee received them courteously, and listened to their errand with interest. The expected marriage of Mr. Poole 78 JPATIKNCE TRIED: was as surprising to him, as to the rest of the village. He at once decided that it was impossible to put the old parsonage in proper order. Either they must build a new one, or buy Bedminster House. He requested them to mention the sub- ject to no one else, till they heard from him again. He would think about it, and see what could be done. Time wore on, and Mr. Poole heard nothing in reference to his modest request that some repairs should be made in the old parsonage. He grew nervously anxious. Deacon Hayes seemed impervious to his hints, and always turned oft with a " We '11 attend to it, Mr. Poole, we '11 attend to it." At last, one day, nerved by desperation, the good minister put on his hat, assumed his most erect attitude, and, without looking to the right or to the left, afraid of even the shadow ' of a dissuasive thought that might be creeping along beside him, walked directly to Mr. Hayes' house, and, sans ceremo- nial preliminaries, put to him the direct question, " Mr. Hayes, I wish you to say, yes, or no, whether any thing is to be done to the parsonage ?" " Oh, yes, Mr. Poole : I told you so long ago." " But when is it to be done ?" asked Mr. Poole, with an- noyed impatience. " Well, let 's see," the deacon began with provoking de- liberation. " You said, I think, you were to be married in August, and cal'clated to be absent three weeks ; well, I reckon, that '11 be time enough to do all that needs to be done. You need n't make yourself oneasy, Mr. Poole : you '11 find all right when you come back." " Deacon Hayes," Mr. Poole began, compelling himself to speak argumentatively, and not to say all he thought of this L O V E S U H V R I 8 E D . 70 absurd plan, "Deacon Hayes, it is impossible, impossible to do all that must be done, in three weeks. The roof, the window- shutters, the north chimney, the kitchen floor, the back steps, the" " Oh there 's no use talking about it, Mr. Poole," the dea- con interrupted. u We Ve arranged it all. Just only make yourself easy, and I give you my word, Mr. Poole, that the work will and shall be done, by the time you come back." The deacon had never been so impracticable and refrac- tory. Mr. Poole gave him up in despair. He knew, at least he thought he did, that he should bring his wife to a house (that never could be over comfortable), in most comfort- less confusion : but he resolved to be what he always was silent and patient. On a bright day in September, Mr. Poole returned with Mrs. Poole to Cedarville. A pleasant, quiet face, round, smooth, plump and placid, a face that might have seen forty summers, smiled back upon the villagers, who thronged about their garden gates to smile their welcomes, as tho stage rolled through the broad, grass-grown street. As they drew near the church, Mr. Poole became restless. He caught the first possible glimpse of the old parsonage alas ! his fears were realized : the outside at least had re- ceived no touch of improvement. Strange that the window- shutters were closed. He must have been expected ; for his people had bowed and courtesied to him in their best clothes, from every house they had passed. Miserable for- getfulness to pour all the sunshine of their welcome into the broad street, and let none into the gloomy parsonage ! The stage came to a dead halt, opposite the church. 80 PATIENCE Mr. Poole gazing over at the deserted-looking parsonage, impatient to penetrate its mysterious silence, did not observe that Deacon Hayes had opened the door of the coach on the other side, and waited for him to alight. The deacon called his attention. " How d' ye do, Mr. Poole ? I wish you joy, sir." " Oh, deacou. Thank you. Mrs. Poole Deacon Hayes." Deacon Hayes shook hands very deliberately with Mrs. Poole, while Mr. Poole wished he would bring his politeness and their journey to an end. " Will you not get out, Mr. Poole ?" " Thank you, deacon. If you will shut the door, the driver can take us nearer the house." " Well, Mr. Poole, the fact is, we have n't got the old house fixed, and you '11 have to stay here a while." " Oh ," said Mr. Poole ; a very long and unsatisfied " oh" it was, as near a growl as Mr. Poole ever uttered in his life. The trunks were deposited in the wheelbarrow of Mr. Hayes' eldest son, ani the mail coach, too dignified to turn into the carriage-way, and carry its passengers to the door of the house, left them standing beside their baggage, and drove off. " I told you it would be so, Mr. Hayes," said Mr. Poole with a reproachful tone, as they filed one after another through the open gate. " But what in the world," he added, as the singularity of the thing struck him for the first time, " what in the world put it into your heads to put us here ? Why did you not write to me, and we could have made other arrangements >. Have you brought the furni- ture over here ?" LOVE SURPRISED. 81 " You '11 see, sir," Mr. Hayes interrupted. "We Ve tried to make you comfortable." What was Deacon Hayes laughing about? Mr. Poole had never seen him so merry. Sarah Hayes met them half way up the garden walk, and relieved Mrs. Poole of shawls and baskets. On the piazza stood six green Windsor chairs, newly painted, from the parsonage. Mr. Poole recognized them at once : What were they doing here ? There were four more of the same chairs in the broad hall, and on the hall floor a new, shining oil-cloth, and new carpet, and bright brass rods on the stairs. What did all this mean ? Sarah Hayes led the way into the room on the left hand ; here too was a new carpet, aud new chairs by the windows ; but, in the corner stood the old clock, and against the wall, the old sideboard, and in the middle of the room, the old dining-table, so familiar for many a long year to the old parsonage. " Why, Sarah," exclaimed- Mr. Poole, " you have taken a great deal of trouble to make us comfortable here. It seems a pity for the short time we are to stay. Perhaps," he added, smilingly, " we may not be willing to leave it." " I hope you will not, sir," answered Sarah, her good-na- tured face all aglow with happiness. "Mr. and Mrs. Poole," called out Mr. Hayes from the opposite room, on the other side of the entry, "will you please step here ? w They obeyed. The room they entered was neatly fur- nished as a library. Mr. Hayes seated Mr. Poole in ai arm- chair, and Mrs. Poole in another, handed Mr. Poole a Mr. Sickles himself, seated in a com- fortable a: m-eh::i , :.': t'-.e side of a bright Liverpool coal lire. Mr. Sickles wa- a very different man in his own a-mr.inents from what lie was cut of them: and it was with an air of so much politeness tha 4 lie placed chairs for his v; ir^-s. and bi 1 th"in welcome, that Nellie almost tlier< were- two Mi'. Sickle.-. lie must have .-< n t!..- book, but li- male no allusion to it. He Ix.'u'.'iii in an oii'-lia::d wnv'o talk and joke with Perry about his school and play-mates, .".id \>'i'< Nellie undisturbed 6 122 A RARE SPECIMEN to make her observations and criticisms on him and his sur- roundings. The room, notwithstanding the low ceiling and dwarfish windows, was large in size and cheerful in appearance. Through an open door, Nellie saw that the bedroom adjoin- ing was of the same size, and in that, too, a Liverpod coal fire was burning in the grate. Both rooms were furnished, not only neatly and comfortably, but tastefully and hand- somely. Close by the rose-wood book-case, stood what looked like a guitar-case : Nellie was sure it was one, for on the opposite side of the room there was a music rack, full of music, tesides a pile of music hooks on the floor beside it But the most astonishing discovery was " clear up there iu the attic" a conservatory. Mrs. Seymour's house stood on the comer of two streets, and Mr. Sickles' room was a corner room, and the front of the room faced the south : the third story of the house projected beyond the fourth, a space of some three feet, or, measuring to the furthest extent of the heavy stone cornice, almost five feet : and on this projection Mr. Sickles had built his aerial green-house, diminutive, to be sure, when compared with less aspiring conservatories, but displaying a more exquisite collection of flowers than they can always boast : flowers, Nellie was surprised to observe, of the most delicate and fragile species. Roses that a breath might blow away, or a dew-drop stain ; lilies " white as dreams in Eden ;" passion-flowers trembling from their shadowy vines ; one feathery acacia, waving its i'airest yellow bloom over an orange-tree, the delicate tracery of its pale green leaves falling upon the glossy verdure and golden fruit of the orange like a fairy net-work ; and a maurandia vine trailed over both so lightly, that not a leaf seemed depressed * FOR THE HUMAN HERBARIUM. 123 by its weight, and mingled its purple bells in pretty contrast with their white and yellow blossoms. Two canaries, one on either side of the door, were the sweetest singers, Nellie thought, she had ever heard. They did not vie with each other in making the greatest possible noise, nor did their music ring till every nerve of hearing seemed to vibrate, and the listener could not hear himself either talk or think but they warbled out the gentlest and softest music possible. " You like flowers ?" said Mr. Sickles to her, abruptly. " Yes, sir," she answered, with a startled voice, for just when he spoke, she was stretching her neck to see a flower that peeped round the corner, ^id she felt that she might have been too curiously inspecting what did not belong to her. " Come and look at mine," said Mr. Sickles. " Do you know what this is and this and this ?" he asked, in rapid succession, pointing to one after another. She knew the names of all, though there were two or three varieties she had never seen before. " Do you like flowers, Mr. Sickles ?" asked Nellie, express- ing by the emphasis of the pronoun, more astonishment at the possibility of his liking them, than she was aware of. "Yes, I like them," he answere 1. " Only, they are so ex- pensive : just like little girls always costing money." Nellie began to think there were not two Mr. Sickles after all. But when he picked her an exquisite bouquet, and handed it to her with a gentle grace as rare as the flowers, the old opinion came back that there were two Mr. Sickles. Flowers ! how she loved them ! how delightful once more to. -breathe their fragrant beauty! She did not now how much she had missed the Truro green-house; and lie lhanked Mr. Sickles in a glow of excitement, and waa 124 A RARE SPECIMEN. bounding out of the room, when Perry whispered to her that she had forgotten the book. Nellie paused, irresolute. The book lay upon the chair where she had left it. Mr. Sickles stood close by her, look- ing so pleased and happy. She hesitated but a moment ; she ran back for the book, came up to Mr. Sickles again, and told him that she was very much obliged to him for the book, and hoped he would pardon her for refusing it at first, for she did not know him then as she did now, and she did not care for presents unless she liked the giver. Perry listened in astonishment. Mr. Sickles was evidently pleased, for the twinkle in his eye said so : yet he began fumbling with his hands in the rarge square pockets of his big coat, very much as if he suspected somebody of an inten- tion to pick those capacious receptacles. But Nellie ran away before he spoke : and from that day, Mr. Joshua Sickles and Nellie Lee were fast friends. ~ XIV. $ Sprig jof ientilitn more Sfeotog to Utortfe. "The present method of servile imitation throws the individual into the crowd if a numerous class an undistinguished particle in the heap; as you have often seen a company of brother-oyster shells 1 , ing in the streets, but, I dare say, never thought of remarking the importan^jirterenees among them. . . They are like the golden ornameats of iho Israelites, which passed by a melting process from a multitude of diminutives into one illustrious calf." JOHN FOSTER. A LBERT Seymour, Esq., was an object of unqualified -**- aversion to Mr. Joshua Sickles. Not seldom was this a cause of lamentation with Mrs. Seymour. " She did wish Mr. Sickles understood poor Albert. He was so hard upon him. He gave him no credit for the good qualities he pos- sessed, whatever his faults might be." " Mother," said Mister Albert, one day, " I shall have to trouble you for five dollars, to purchase a concert ticket to- night. A famous singer was to appear. The concert was for a charitable object : and every body was to be there. " Albert," his mother replied, " I wish you would take a less expensive seat. I have promised Perry that he shall hear this *injtr^ind to-night will be the last opportunity. But I can not afford two five dollar tickets; neither can I let him go alone. Tf you would buy two promenade tickets for a dollar each, you would share the pleasure with your 120 ASPRIQ OF GENTILITY brother and save money at that which I can very ilJ spare." " What would the world say to see me, Albert Seymour, stalking about among the Tom, Dick, and Harries ? Dear mother, it is impossible. Besides, I have made a positive engagement and can not help it now." " Poor Perry, he will be greatly disappointed," his mother said, sadly. " Pooh, pooh ! He can go another time," Mr. Albert re- sponded. " Perhaps I'll take him to hear the Ethiopian minstrels." " No, you will not," Mrs. Seymour said, decidedly. " If your elegance can not condescend to mingle with gentle- men, because they are not in the most fashionable circles, you shall not expose Perry to the contamination and vul- garity of an Ethiopian concert." This was a very severe speech for mild Mrs. Seymour. Albert was quite overcome by it and sank down upon the sofa with a graceful air of martyr-like resignation. " Dear mother," he said, apologetically, " I mentioned the Ethiopians because I thought they would interest Perry ; and one is in no danger of being snobbed as a plebeian at such a place. He is only thought a fast young man, who likes to see and know a little of all that is going on. But on such a night as ^his, at a full dress concert, to take any other than^a five dollar seat would be decidedly outree. Indeed I "could not think of it. It might cause my expul- sion from the pale of society. Mrs. Ephrain^Jones and all her set would positively cut me, if they tiro not 4b me, at least once in the evening, sitting near or conver|ing with the Jays, or Lees, or Murrays. And then the Lalors ! horrors ! M O R L !i U U W V THAN WORTHY. 127 Wiiat if they should give me the cold shoulder and crush the hopes of winning a fortune as well as a heart, dear mother." " Albert," answered his mother, with alann, " you surely could not love either of those trifling girls ; :<.nd you would not, I hope, marry merely for the sake of fortune." " I don't knov,-, mother dear," he answered, with a shrug of the shoulders. " I think I could love enough where there was money enough. And then you should give up this detestable boarding-house. Bah ! it is shocking to think that you should ever have been reduced to so low an em- ployment" To this effusion his mother made no reply. She only looked grave and sad. Fearing that she might grow obliv- ious to the subject of his present wants, Master Albert ven- tured after awhile to renew his application. " Mother dear, I am very sorry I can not take Perry to- night. But that is out of the question. And I must have five dollars for my own ticket ; for, I think I told you, I am under an engagement to attend this concert, which I could not honorably break." Mrs. Seymour searched her purse and portemonuaie, and replaced both in her pocket, remarking that she had nothing less than a twenty dollar bill ; perhaps Mr. Sickles could change it for her, when he came in. " Mr. Sickles ? mother ; won't you ask some one else to change it for you," Albert urged. Mrs. Seymour pre- sumed he feared some scathing remark from Mr. Sickles, and feeling less tender-hearted than usual, answered him coldly, that "there was no one else she cared to trouble about it" J28 it i o o i-' c K \ T i j. i r Y "Pierce (]> V:"' ( H lr:.! what vou want it for, mother," Albert said. " X-t, rnv ro:i, v r.he answered, " I should bo ashamed to ieli one so generous, what a selfish son I have." "Oh, mo.hor," he answered, deprecatingly, " you do not understand wditit the customs of society demand. I would d.> anv thing for Perry's gratification. But then, the world is inexorable. Oh, dear I 1 ' and reclining at full length on the sofa ho covered his face with his worked and scented han:; T rchief, to lade the tender emotions which were agitating his hea.it, or, the want of them. Soon P<-rry came in, and going directly to his mother, asked, in a whisper, if she had spoken to Albert about the concert. " He says he can not possibly take you," was the only and audible reply. The white cambric handkerchief did not move in its finest fold, and as it was of the most gossamer material, the infer- t ence was that Albert Seymour was so sound asleep that he had ceased to breathe. As for Perry, he walked directly tfo the window and stood there for a long time without turn- ing round once. He could not have been enamored of the prospect, for the window looked down upon a very small and bare brick-paved court. Perry did not move till Mr. Sickles' tramp was heard in the hall. The cambiic handkerchief moved too, now ; one little startled, fluttering motion, and then it lay <|uiot again. One tiny foot, encased in French-calf, of most feminine make, moved too, fron, the sofa to the- floor, but there it staid ; either the luxurious repose was too attractive, or escape was judged impossible. Mr. Sickles entered the . MOKE SHOWY THAN WORTHY. 129 room with his green goggles on. The little French-booted foot, lay just in his path, and Mr. Sickles' heavy, country- made boot, came down upon it with such precision as to start the doubt whether it were purely accidental. " Bless me !" exclaimed Mr. Sickles, pulling off his goggles, " did I step on any thing ?" The start and the exclamation were so ludicrous that Perry, who had' seen the whole proceeding and who had a little spite perhaps to gratify, burst into an uproarious fit of laughter, such as only a boy can raise. This was too much for Albert, who was smarting with the pain and the sus- picion of intentional insult, and shaking a hand so little that it might provoke the same question as the foot, whether " it was any thing ?" at Perry, he limped out of the room. " O, ho ! Perry," cried Mr. Sickles, " you are very happy to-night. That concert has put you in fine spirits." Perry was grave in a minute ; and the sudden change from merriment to sobriety could not pass unremarked. " What's the matter now ? what's the matter now ?" Mr. Sickles exclaimed, plunging his hands into his large pockets, which he habitually associated with every cause for sorrow, " dear, dear, I suppose it 's because that little Nellie, your in- separable friend, is not going! Well, it's very expensive, but she must go too, I suppose," and Mr. Sickles produced his pocket-book. Perry laughed again now, " Oh, no, Mr. Sickles," he said, " I should like to have Nellie go with me, if I were going ; but I am not going myself. Albert says he won't take me." " He must have changed his mind soon," said Mr. Sickles ; " it was not two hours ago, that he borrowed ten dollars of 130 A SPHIG OF GENTILITY me, to buy tickets, as I understood him, for his mother, Perry, and himself." '' Are you sure he said so ?" inquired Mrs. Seymour, who was listening with painful interest. " Well, no," was the answer, " now that I think of it again, I am sure that he did not say so. He said he wished while down town to buy tickets for the concert and had neglected to bring money sufficient. And I myself, said, ' Tickets for your mother, Perry, and yourself, I suppose ;' and as he did not say ' No,' I supposed that he meant ' Yes.' So you see, madam, it was all my stupid inference. I was misled by my knowledge of his habitual consideration for the happiness of others." Mrs. Seymour bit her lip. " Can you give me two five dollar bills for this, Mr. Sickles," she asked, holding out a bill to him. Mr. Sickles gave her the bills and examined the one she handed him. " Stop, how is this ?" he asked ; " you have given me a twenty." "Ten dollars I owe you, or Albert does, which is the same thing," she answered, replacing her pocket-book. " The same thing ? Madam, I tell you it is a very differ- ent thing. I will thank you to give me back my bills, or take this too," extending a ten toward her. " I must insist, Mr. Sickles on your keeping it;" and Mrs. Seymour spoke so resolutely, that Mr. Sickles had to yield. If Mr. Sickles ordinarily rushed out of the room, now he flew out, like except for the noise a dart, down the hall and out of the front door, making the whole house shake as he slammed after him the massive portal. MORE SHOWY THAN "WORTHY. 131 Soon after Albert sauntered again into the room. It growing dark and he did not observe that tears had been coursing down his mother's cheeks. " Mother," he said, with a languid effort at a joke, " did you get that little V for me ?" "Where, sir," she asked, "are the ten dollars you bor- rowed of Mr. Sickles to purchase tickets" there was irony in her voice "for your mother, your brother, and yourself?" Albert threw himself on the sofa with an air of exhaust- ion. " Now, my dear mother, it is too bad that you should have discovered that little incident. It is my confounded luck. The fact is just this, dear mother, I made a bet of two concert tickets with the pretty Lalor girls (Blanche you know is quite fond of me), and I lost them, mother dear ; and not having the money to pay for them, and not liking to ask you for it all, I did the best I could borrowed ten of Mr, Sickles and expect you, dear mother, to give me the other five. And now you see what a fix I am in ; for their tickets are bought and sent to them, and of course they expect my escort. Now, mother, please give me that V. We 've talked about it more than it is worth," and Albert concluded with a yawn, as if it were an intolerably prosy and trifling matter. " I will give it, Albert," his mother said, il on one single condition, and that is, that you never again, so long as you and I bo^i live, ask Mr. Sickles to lend you money." The promise was as lightly given as it was lightly kept, and the exquisite young man lounged out of the room, with the thankless air of one who considered a matter of fifteen or twenty dollars mere moonshine. The stonn indeed had blown over more speedily than he expected. His mother 132 A 3 P R I G OF U K N T I L I T V too felt relieved ; for the affair as now explained, seemed to her less serious, because less mysterious. Nellie, Mrs. Seymour and Perry were all in the little room waiting for the summons to dinner, when Mr. Sickles once more invaded that apartment. " There seems to be no end to the way in which money is wasted," he began, in his abrupt fashion. " Here, unfortu- nately, I put the idea of going to the concert in Perry's head, and of having Nellie with him ; and now neither of them would ever forgive me, if they did not go. Of all dreadful things, the spite of children is most venomous. I'd rather live with wild Indians, than in the same house with two children, whose love you can not or do not buy. So I have had to get tickets for them ; and, as I suppose, Mrs. Seymour, you would not trust them alone with me, for I might take summaiy vengeance by losing them altogether, and as I do not wish to be pestered with the entire care of them, I shall be obliged to you, madam, if you, as a mere act of charity to them and me, will accompany us." Going t. the concert ! Oh what joy to Nellie ! Her father, mother, and sisters were going, and brother Robert and sister Theresa ; but none of them had so much as thought of taking her. But she was to go, with Mrs. Sey- mour and Perry, and funny Mr. Sickles: what could be pleasanter? Nor was this the last concert that Nellie attended with Perry and Mr. Sickles that winter. And though Mr. Sickles always had some droll excuse for taking them and pretended to be forced into it and greatly bored by it, yet Nellie observed that his interest in their pleasure was only less than his keer en joymen t, of the music when good, or annoyance when not good- XV. nmmer-time, an& a C(jristmas f al*. " Nor stranger seemed that hearts So gentle, so employed, should close in love, Than when two dew-drops on the petal shake To the same sweet air and tremble deeper down, And slip at once all fragrant into one." ALFRED TENNYSON. rFHE winter wore away. Late in the spring, Nellie came -*- back to Truro, happy and bright as the birds that had migrated earlier from the sunny south. The meeting be- tween her and Mrs. Hughes was joyous ; and if the flowers, trees, birds, and very breezes were not glad to see her again, Nellie thought they were, for they fairly danced in the happy light that shone out her welcome to them. Nellie did not leave all troubles behind her ; for the new governess came with her. Miss Brown was a governess ; a thoroughly educated, practical, stereotyped English one one that extended her surveillance over the whole conduct of her pupil, and never permitted her to do any thing her own way, unless that was the right and most right way. But Nellie had Mrs. Hughes now to advise with, and in spite of Miss Brown and her fixy notions, was happier than she had been in the city. It was well for her that Mrs. Hughes was an English woman. When Miss Brown first heard of Nellie's intimacy with the tanner's wife, Miss Brown's face assumed 134 BRIGHT SUMMER-TIME, a very shocked, decided, and threatening aspect. But ona visit to the tannery and its flower garden, and one talk of old England, and its ivy, pinks and daisies, and its church, with pretty, cheerful, clever Mrs. Hughes, dissipated, or cap- tivated Miss Brown's prejudices, and Nellie was continued in the unforbidden, unrestrained freedom of visiting the Sunday- school teacher. On Nellie's account, Mrs. Hughes cultivated and propiti- ated Miss Brown's good opinion, found in her an intelligent, agreeable, and pious friend, and if Miss Brown never wholly laid aside a patronizing air toward the tanner's wife, the lat- ter did not seem aware of it. She studied Miss Brown's good qualities, and while she smiled at the infirmities and professional peculiarities of the governess, she admired the sterling sense, high cultivation, and conscientious fidelity of the Christian woman ; and taught Nellie to appreciate these and bear with those. The pleasantest time in all the summer was August and part of September. Then Miss Brown went away to visit her friends, and Henry caine home, and Perry Seymour came with him, to spenl his vacation at Truro. Although Perry came to see Henry, he never forgot Nellie. He insist- ed upon her being a party in all their pleasures, and as Miss Brown was not there to forbid, and no one assumed Miss Brown's authority, Nellie accompanied the boys in their furthest and wildest excursions, over hills, up rocks, through woods and marshes, gunning, fishing, and nut-hunting, invig- orating, by this means, her own health, both of body and mind, and strengthening the ties which bound her already to at least one of the parties. As for Harry, the brother whom she 1 jved so dearly, boarding-school had spoiled him. AND A CHRISTMAS TALE. 135 He seemed to think it unboyish we ask his pardon, " un- manly," he would have called it to be forever tied to a girl. He barely tolerated Nellie's company, and regarded Perry as but a girlish city-boy for wanting her. But Miss Brown came back, and Harry and Perry re- turned to their schools, and before the luscious month of Oc- tober was well passed its ripeness, the whole family migrated once more from Truro to New York. That winter, Charlotte and Emma, fully emancipated from the school-room, entered upon the career of young ladyship. Nellie was more than ever out of the thoughts of the family. The father and the mother were devoted to the two elder daughters, and the daughters were devoted to the gayeties of a city life. But she was kept hard at work by in- defatigable Miss Brown, and enjoyed with the more zest, be- cause with less frequency, her visits to Mrs. Seymour's parlor and Mr. Sickles attic retirement Attic it was, in the classical as well as the edifical sense. Albert Seymour, Esq., was still unfettered with the bonds of matrimony. Miss Blanche Lalor had deceived his hopes. When he had persuaded himself to make her the decisive offer, he found, to his chagrin, that he could not persuade her to accept of it. His melancholy was profound ; he even entertained the suicidal purpose of burying his personal charms in the assiduities of the legal profession. For a whole week he kept office hours, and smoked his cigar over Black- stone instead of the last novel. He grew pale and thin (owing possibly to the stint of claret during this period 01 exile from the scenes of fashionable gluttony), and his fond mother really believed that he was pining away of a broken heart, and needed the trip to Saratoga, which, he intimated 136 BRIGHT SUMMER-TIME, might have a salutary effect. To Saratoga he went ; at a time, too, when the Lees happened to be there ; and, dazzled by Charlotte Lee's beauty, or fortune, or his own intense vanity or venality, like a moth that can not be cured of flut- tering around the fatal lamp, he yielded himself once more to the fascinating dream of a splendid alliance. The fashionable exquisite, if rich, stirs our satire, but if poor, moves also our pity. Dependent for position on the favor or caprice of the fair sex, or, at least, on the value of his services to them as a convenient escort and obliging as- sistant, he becomes, in the ladies' vocabulary, " that dear, good-natured creature" who can be used, or neglected, smiled upon, or laughed at, at pleasure. In order to ensure his own permanency in the gay world, and to provide for the indulgence of his expensive tastes and habits, he be- comes a fortune-hunter in the way of matrimony, and as the objects of his attentions know the cupidity of his motives, they esteem themselves at liberty to trifle with his hopes, and make him ridiculous and contemptible. Yet the poor victim, blinded by vanity, or impelled by necessity, perse- veres till he becomes a seedy bachelor past presentation, falls into the net of a parvenu, or is swept away by dissipated habits to the lowest degradation. Such was the course on which Albert Seymour, Esq., had embarked. He had met his first rejection ; he was courting a second ; and what the end should be is not worth the anticipation. Christmas Evening. Miss Van Home, Nellie and Perry, had the little room all to themselves. Nellie had begged off from an invitation to spend the day with the rest of the fam- ily at the Jays', where she knew she would have little enter- A X 1) A (' H H I S T M A S T A L !-: . 1 -'! 7 tainineiit beyond a romp with brother Iloberi's little boy, and a search for amusement, for the huudreth ti.ne, through a portfolio of poor water-Colored and worn our, r-rgrnvin; v s wliile the ' onie and valuable < nos \vcnld ho, meanly placed beyond lisi 1 reach. Miss Brown wa; f-pc-a - ing the day wiih friends of her own. Mr. Albe-t was or course dangling about Miss Charlotte, and Mr. Sickles had persuaded Mrs. Seymour to accompany him on a visit to sornc: acquaintance of their earlier years. " Miss Van Horue, won't you please tell us a Christmas story ?" Perry asked, as the idea occurred lo him that this would help to while away the time that hung rather heavily on their hands. " Five, six, seven, eight," Miss Van Home wns counting the stiches of the blue worsted stocking she was knitting. The decisive manner in which she enunciated the "five, six," said that her work must not be interrupted. Perry waited patiently for a more propitious moment. Her voice subsided on the "seven, eight," and she went on with her counting inaudibly. Perry watched her lips and actions, till the counting ceased, and the careful measurement of the stocking with her long finger showed that the narrowing was complete, and then lie ventured once more. " Miss Van Home, please tell us a Christmas story." "Just look at that plaguy fire. I've dusted that pan twice, and there it's all ashes again," anl Miss Van Home rose as she spoke, broke the crust on the top of the smold- ering coals till the blaze flew up the chimney in one broad sheet of light, brushed the ]>a;i till not a speck dimmed the bright re-flection of the fire, placed the shovel and tongs in O '1 O their most erect position, and then, making the circuit of the 138 BRIGHT S U M M E B - T I M Ji , room, set every chair straight, shook up the sofa cushions and readjusted the window curtains. Perry watched these operations in silence, knowing well that Miss Electa Van Home would tell no story so long as she could find other work to do. At last she resumed her seat and her knitting. " Now, Miss Van Home," and Perry moved the bench on which he was sitting close up to her, and motioned to Nellie to place her's on the other side, "please tell us a story ; a Christmas story." Miss Van Home was gratified by the request. Perry saw that in her face, and was sure she had been conning over what to tell ever since he first preferred his request. But she still needed a little coaxing. "She knew no stories. She was not used to story-telling. There was something better to be done than to hear and to tell stories." But Perry persevered, and Nellie put in a word of persuasion. " They did want to hear a story so much ; and they were sure Miss Van Home could tell something ; and Christmas night would be so dull if she did n't ; and they would be so much obliged if she did." So Miss Van Home told her story, which we shall tell over again, with some verbal emendations. " Natie Roget was the pretiest little baby that ever was. Her mother died when she was three months old, and she was intrusted to the care of Christiana Van Duyserline, a young woman who had been brought up in the Roget family more as a friend than a dependent and servant, which in reality she was. Christiana loved Xatie as much as a mother could have done. "The Rogets were a Huguenof family, of noble descent. AND A CHRISTMAS TALK. 189 The Count de Roget, their ancestor, when a very aged man, fled from France with his family to Holland, a few years be- fore the revocation of the Edict of Nantes, when Madame de Maintenon's influence with Louis XIV. began to be exerted against the Protestants. Natie's great-grandfather came to this country in 1750 ; a very rich man he was, and lived in grand style. Brantz Van Duyserline, a Hollander, came over with him, and was his confidential servant, and had indeed the chief management of his estate. But the Revo- lution made great havoc of the fortunes of rich men, and Natie's father had little more to show for the grandeur of his ancestors than the great and half-ruined house in West- chester county, with some two hundred acres of not over- good land. He kept up appearances, however, and lived like a gentleman all his days ; but his hospitality and gen- erosity eventflally deprived Natie of what should have been her inheritance. The old house is gone now and a thriving town is growing upon the site of the old farm. " Christmas-day was a great day in the Roget family. Com- pany was invited, far and near ; and there was always a ball at night that lasted till morning. When Natie was ten years old, her father invited the children, as well as the grown people, to the Christmas festival, and they had a little party by themselves, with Christiana to take care of them, and Jerry, the black fiddler, to play for them. " Among the guests was a boy twelve years old, whose mother had rented a small house on Mr. Roget's farm, and lived there alone with this one child. She was a lady, very elegant and accomplished, but poor. Some thought she had married beneath her and was ashamed to go back tc her friends after her husband's death. However that was, 140 li il I C II T siUM M K tt-TI M K, she lived there alone, in an h;r.n!>ui \v::y, ;ni 1 devoted herself to the education of this boy. He was an uncommon child ; not handsome exactly, but a fine, open, good f:ce, wi:h such a sweet expression, and a something which showed that he was a marked character, different from or.iinary j'.eoplo. He had the prettiest white and red complexion, like a girl's. His eyes were gray, large, clear, a. id sparkling. His eye- brows were thick, even when lie was ;i lad, and, what was singular, they were almost black, while his hair was a light brown. He was the most sensitive little fellow, a word would bring tears to his eyes ; and yet he was brave and hardy too. In his dress he was no-it and particular to a fault, and his manners were gentle and graceful. ' Dear me ! how folks change !' " Miss Van Home paused to ejacu- late. " This boy, refined as he was, had an ugly and disagree- able name ; but that was nothing. It was Joshua Joshua Saunders." " Why," exclaimed Perry, " perhaps it was uncle Joshua and then Natie would be mother, for she and uncle Joshua did know each other when children ; only mother's name is n't Na'.ie." " It ought to have been, though," said Miss Van Home, with warmth. " Her grandmother was Natie, Natie Van Shaick; and a more respectable family than the Van Shaicks, never lived in Westchester county. But her father had a fancy for English names and would not call her Natie. But you must not suppose, children," and Miss Van Home, who had been betrayed by her ardor, spoke now very delib- erately and emphatically, " that my story has any thing to do with Mrs. Seymour, or Mr. Sickles either. Of course. AND A CHRISTMAS TALK. 141 I should tell you nothing about them. I won't say that the story 's ail false, nor all true ; only it 's about people who lived before you were born long, long ago." Having put this point beyond question, Miss Van Home proceeded with her story. " Joshua and Natie met that Christinas night, for the first time. They liked each other greatly, and from that day be- came very intimate. As neither had brothers or sisters, and they lived so near, in the country too, it was not surprising that they should seek each other's company. But what brought them still oftener together was, that Mrs. Saunders undertook the instruction of Natie ; so they studied together as well as played together. " Things went on so till Joshua Saunders was fifteen years old, when he and his mother moved to New- York, and he entered as clerk in a store. But he used often to visit the Rogets and was always there at Christmas time. " The Christmas after Natie was seventeen years oid, the party at Mr. Roget's was more splendid than ever ; for Natie was coming out now as a young lady. There was a band of music from New York, and Christiana Van Duyser- line had nothing to do with the getting up of the supper lint night, for it was brought from the city, with the waiters and all. They were an impertinent set of fellows, those waiters, and it was well that Christiana had something else to do, or she would have ma le the house too hot for them. But she was full of Natie, dressing her and admiring her, and thinking about hor ; and if she was proud of Naiie, she had reason to be, for Na ;.- was a picture of beauty that night. She wore a rose-colored silk, trimmed with white satin puffings, and her hair was tied with long strings of 142 BRIGHT SUMMER-TIME, pearls. Wherever she moved about the room, all eyes were fixed upon her, and when she had passed, a murifhir of de- light would be heard. Christiana Van Duyserline worshiped an idol that night, and forgot the instructions of good Do- minie Van Clief. She had only one regret, and that was that Joshua Saunders was not there to see Natie ; he, poor boy, for the first time in eight years was absent from the Christ- mas festival. His mother was very ill she died, poor lady. " Many a fine fellow lost his heart at that Christmas ball. Among the rest was an officer, dressed in regimentals, a tall, handsome man, as ever you saw ; of good family, too, and already distinguished. But he was older by a great deal than Natie, and ought not to have thought of such a young thing as she was. After all the company was gone, and Natie had retired to her own room, she could talk of no one but that elegant and captivating Captain Palmer. Christi- ana let her go on for some time, and then she said in a quiet way, " There was not a man here to-night as good-looking and as clever as young Joshua Saunders !" Natie never said another word, but undressed and went to bed as softly as the moonlight that was streaming in through the windows. "Day after day, for two or three weeks, Captain Palmer kept coming to Mr. Roget's. He talked to Natie, drove her out in the gig, rode with her on horseback, sailed with her on the Sound, and sung with her at the piano. Natie grew prettier and prettier every day. She seemed like one intoxi- cated with happiness : her eyes sparkled so, and her cheeks were so flushed, and her laugh so frequent and merry. But she never said any thing to Christiana Van Duyserline about Captain Palmer, after the first night, when Christiana put AND A CHRISTMAS TALK. 143 her down so. At last Christiana determined to be the first to speak. * " ' Natie,' she said, one day, ' what does that officer keep coming here for ?' " ' Perhaps he is in love,' she answered, laughingly. " ' Natie, do you mean to have him ?' Christiana asked, point blank. " ' Father says I may,' she answered, laughingly as before ; but it was not altogether a joyous laugh, it was too nervous and excited for that. " Now Christiana thought that she, who had loved her and cared for her as a mother, ought to have been consulted in this matter, as well as her father ; and so, perhaps, she was not over careful what she said. " ' Natie,' she said, ' you '11 break the heart of a man who is worth a hundred Captain Palmers.' " ' What do you mean ?' asked Natie, either not under- standing, or pretending not to ; but she looked a little flur- ried. " ' I mean Joshua Saunders,' said Christiana, ' who has loved you ever since you were ten years old and he twelve.' " ' What nonsense !' said Natie, trying to laugh ; but she could not quite make it out. ' Joshua loves me just as I love him, as brothers and sisters may love.' " ' Joshua Sauniers loves you as never brother loved sister yet, and you know it,' said Christiana, sternly. " ' Why, dear Christiana,' said Natie, almost crying now, ' how can you say so ? Joshua never said so, and never asked me to marry him.' " ' No, Natie,' answered Christiana, softening down in her way of speaking, as she began to pity the child, 4 Joshua 144 BRIGHT SUMMER-TIME, never said so, because it would not have been right, and be- cause he never thought it necessary. The time has not come yet You are both too young, and he is not in busi- ness ; he could not say any thing about marriage. But Joshua shows his love to you as plain as if he spoke it, and I believe that you, in your heart, love him." " 4 Dear Chrisfiana,' said NnHe, weeping now violently, ' I do love Joshua so much that the possibili'y of giving him pain distresses me beyond measure. Ihit then I never thought of such a thing as marrying him, and I hope, for all you say, that he never has. But I can't he!i> it r.o\v. I sm engaged to Captain Palmer, and I am suiv I love him as I never could any one else.' " Christiana's woman's heart was touched. Sh-" said nothing more about Joshua, but tried to lo >k r.t matters as Nstie did, and though she had her doubts and misgivings, she per- suaded herself that Na'.ie did light in chousing the captain. "The captain was ordered away on a lo:ig cruise, and that was an excuse fur hurrying the wedding. In three months after Natie first smv him, Domini , V;m Clief manied her to Captain Palmer. " During these three months Joshua Saunders never came to the Rogets. His sick mother required ;:!! his care. He never knew of the engagement even, till he received notes of invitation to the welling. From that ray he became a changed man. His mother die 1, and Natie existed no more for him : he had 1:0 iv!;:ti\e; t!;;V he c: r d !'?x, and began to hem and overhand, and gather, with a rapidity of execution only equaled by her volu- bility. If the sewing was not of the finest quality, neither was the tnlking. "The cause of benevolence, Miss Helen," she remarked, "is i.L a very low ebb in Cedarville." "Ah ?" was Helen's interjectional inquiry. "Yes. It is almost impossible to get the people to do their duty in the way of giving." "Indeed?" "Yes. They have not been rightly instructed. Good Mr. Poole did things in such a hum-drum way. He was not up to the times. The state of piety is in a very low con- dition. Dead-and-alive, Mr. Stryker calls it." " I was not aware of the fact." Nellie said, so pertly that Mrs. Stryker looked up from her red ruffling to read the countenance ; it was glowing with more than disapproba- tion. " I did not mean to say a word against Mr. Poole, Miss Helen," she said, apologetically. " He was a good man, un- doubtedly, but rather old-fashioned, and, I should judge, de- void of enthusiasm." "Nothing that you that any one could say, would prejudice him in the love and veneration of this family, Mrs. Stryker," answered Nellie, with more warmth than was needful. The manner inoro thnn the words, interdicted the subject WITH BEST INTENTIONS. 201 from further conversation. There was a moment of painful silence. Nellie reproached herself. Good humor could suffer but an instant's intermission in her nature. ' : Would you like some music, Mrs. Stryker ?" she asked, blandly, by way of further entertainment. Mrs. Stryker would like it. " What shall I play ? What kind of music do you prefer ?" Mrs. Stryker preferred marches. Nellie knew but one. She played that for Mrs. Stryker's gratification, and then played what she chose, for her own. She quite forgot the presence of Mrs. Stryker, till, in a sudden modulation of the music, that lady's voice became disagreeably apparent, and lest her quiet mother should be forced into conversation, she relinquished the piano for the less attractive society of the pastor's wife. " He is a very bad man," were the first words she heard. " Surprising," was Mrs. Lee's monosyllabic reply, uttered in a pitiful tone pitiful to the subject of the remark, or to herself who had to hear about him, Nellie a little doubted which. " Who ?" asked Nellie, by way of catching the thread of the conversation, while, at the same time, she renewed the thread in her needle. " Mr. Ball, we were speaking of. He is such a bad man," Mrs. Stryker answered, with emphasis on the "bad." Nellie involuntarily jerked the thread out of the needle again. Steve Ball a bad man ! Her favorite, ever since she used to stand and watch the sturdy strokes of his hammer and the sparks from his anvil, when she was a child, and would come home at twilight from Mrs. Hughes'. He was 9* 202 NETTLES STING always so kind and gentle, too, and treasured up so lovingly the flowers she gave him. He a bad man ! She knew he was rough, and quick-tempered, and hot-headed ; but this was not exactly what the expression, "such a bad man," seemed to imply. ' In what way is he so bad ?" inquired Nellie, as indiffer- ently as she could. " He is bitterly opposed to temperance. He says if Mr. Stryker ever preaches on the subject again, as he did last Sunday, he will not attend church any more. He is opposed to personal religion, too. He forbade Mr. Stryker's ever speaking to him on the subject. I expect he will die a miserable hardened drunkard." " A drunkard ! a drunkard !" exclaimed Nellie, with horror. " Surely you do not mean that he is intemperate ?" " Yes I do," was Mrs. Stryker's decided answer. Nellie felt this piece of information too painfully to ask any more questions. Mrs. Stryker did not need to be cate- chized however. She volunteered some further remarks, which showed that Mr. Ball was not wholly given up to the hateful vice, whatever might happen. He had taken too much on the last election day had been over-noisy at the last wedding in the village ; and visited Tim Whittaker's premises once every day, which was just once a day too often. Still Nellie disposed to palliate, by the partiality of friendships, and to hope, by the law of a sanguine and pure heart permitted herself to believe that the burly blacksmith would turn out a sober man yet. " How pretty his daughter Margaret is," said Nellie, by way of diversion. WITH BEST INTKNTION8. 203 " Yes, a pretty girl, but very wild and reckless," was the answer. Nellie resolved not to be startled again and remarked quietly that she had always admired Margaret Ball for her easy, pleasant, good-natured manners. " She is a kind-hearted girl, I believe," answered Mrs. Stryker ; " but why, Mrs. Lee, what do you think of a young lady, and she too a professor of religion, who would walk up and down the street, with a young man, till eleven o'clock at night?" " Might it not depend on whom the young man was ?" asked Nellie, answering for her mother, with as much inter- est as she could get up in the subject. " It was not her brother, Miss Helen ; nor her cousin ; nor any young man who belongs to Gedarville, for I saw them myself." " You must yourself then have kept late hours that night," said Xellie, mischievously. " Yes, I was up rather late. I don't know exactly how it happened." Nellie thought it best not to inquire as to the possibility of recognizing persons at the distance of the parsonage from the street, in the night time. Anxious rather to escape more village gossip, she abruptly asked if Mr. Stryker in- tended, in the spring, to give his personal attention to the flowers and shrubbery at Bedminster ? "Oh, no," was .the answer. "He has no taste for orna- mental gardening. If there were a few acres to be farmed, that would be worth while. He thinks now of opening a school in the spring. It would occupy his unemployed time: 204 NETTLE S8TINO and would help, you know, to eke out his salary- Ministers are so poorly pall." " Could he find children enough in the village to make it profitable ?" asked Nellie. " There are few who can afford to pay much : and then there is the free school ; pa', you know, pays the salary of the teacher there." " Mr. Stryker would not think of teaching a mere village school," Mrs. Stiyker answered, with some contempt. " He designs opening a classical school, a boarding-school ?" " Have you room to accommodate boarders ?" " It will be necessary to erect additions to the house. Mr. Stryker has drawn the plans and got estimates. He hopes the congregation will help him in the expense of building : it will be for their good, you kut>w." Nellie did not take in the force of the last observation. She was wondering what addition, large enough for the pro- posed purpose, could be made to the parsonage, that would not mar its beauty. The subject carried her back to the time when other occupants were the loveliest attractions of sweet Bedminster parsonage. She was recalled at last by hearing the name of Perry Seymour : Mrs. Stryker was speaking of that young gentleman very familiarly and some- what patronizingly. " You know Mr. Seymour, then ?" Nellie asked. " Yes. Mr. Stryker's sister, Cynthia, is teaching school in the town where he is pursuing his theological studies. We went there on our wedding trip and met Mr. Seymour several times. He is a great admirer of Cynthia. Indeed, it will, without doubt, be a match." This was too much. Nellie could hardly restrain some expression of the absurd ludicrousness of any such suppo : WITH BEST INTENTIONS. 205 tion. Laugh at it she must somewhere not in Mrs. Stry- ker's face and hurrying up stairs, she burst into Maria's room and astonished her with the length and merriment of her peals of laughter. : ' Nellie, Nellie," implored Maria, " do stop. Some one is calling you, do you not hear ?" " Calling me ?" and Nellie listened. " Surely it is Mrs. Stryker's voice ; how queer !" Compelling herself to be sober, Nellie opened the door and both saw and heard Mrs. Stryker. She was wandering about in the labyrinth of halls ; opening door after door, and calling by turns, " Miss Helen," " Helen," "Nellie," " Miss Lee !" Surprise gave Helen the mastery of her risible muscles, but not yet certain of her voice, she closed Maria's door and slowly pursued Mrs. Stryker who was taking a survey of each room and had evidently become interested in her ex- plorations. At the door of one room, she paused longer than usual, and at last went in. It was Norton's and had an air of comfort peculiar to itself. Nellie, following, found her seated in a large arm chair, deliberately examining the fur- niture and arrangements of the apartment. " Oh !" she said when she saw Nellie. " I have been looking for you. Your mother said you were going to Maria's room, I wanted to see your sister, and followed you : but you went so fast. What an immense house this is ! I had no idea of its size. I am afraid you study here too much your worldly comfort." " Is that wrong ?" asked Nellie, rather for the want of something to say, than for a care to receive instruction. " If we must not love the world, nor the things of the 206 NETTLES STING world," said Mrs. Stryker, " we should not suiround our- selves with worldly comforts, lest we full into a snare." "May we not trust God to guard us from temptation *" " What, my dear ?" " Would God give us comforts, if He did not mean us to enjoy them ; and is it grateful to refuse to enjoy to the full the blessings which He bestows ?" " God, my dear, may try us to see whether we love Him or the world better. To deny ourselves and take up the cross ; to sell all that we have, and give to the poor ; these are our duties." " Are these commands absolute ?" " What ?" " Where would you draw the line between asceticism and a proper degree of worldly enjoyment ?" Mrs. Stryker still did not comprehend the question, and Nellie, seeing her puzzled look, took the answer upon her- self. "Our Lord Jesus Christ came eating and drinking, and men said he had a devil. This shows us that extraordinary abstinence is not essential to the highest virtue ; and that men's judgment of our course of life is apt to be erron- eous. At least our Lord Himself is a proof that a man, without neglecting the ordinary customs of life, or refus- ing any good or pleasant thing that Providence may afford, may still be a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief. Mr. Poole used to say that we should take both the pleasures and troubles God sends gratefully ; and God would be sure to send both as we needed them. ' No man hath a velvet cross,' says Samuel Rutherford, ' but the cross is made of that which God will have it. Howbeit, it be no warrant- WITH BEST INTENTIONS. 207 able market to buy a cross. Sure I am, it were better to buy crosses for Christ, than to sell them ; howbeit neither be allowed to us.' Did you ever read Rutherford's letters ?" " No. Was he a minister ?" " Yes. Suppose we go down stairs now," said Nellie, after a moment's pause, hoping that Mrs. Stryker's extraor- dinary desire to see Maria had subsided. " Let us first go to your sister's room," said Mrs. Stryker, making a motion to rise. Nellie hesitated. " I doubt if she feel well enough to see you, Mrs. Stryker." " I will not stay long. Your sister is in ill health. We ought to be faithful to her. Do yon ever speak to her on the importance of preparation for death ?" " Not exactly about that," Nellie answered. " How dreadfully you will feel when she dies," Mrs. Stry- ker responded, reprovingly, rising at the same time with an air of determination that plainly said " she would do her duty." Nellie was shocked, and yet oddly inclined to smile. Be- sides that she never could look on the dark side of things, there was some ludicrous incongruity, rather felt than seen, between the tenderness and awfulness of the event of death, and the matter of fact way in which Mrs. Stryker treated it. That the death of a sister should be so unfeelingly spoken of, and preparation for it treated as a matter of business, and the question of duty in reference to it so nicely weighed, was new and savored of a religious levity that might well ex- cite a smile. But Mrs. Stryker was making long strides toward the door. Nellie laid her hand on Mrs. Stryker's arm, asked her to wait one moment, till she should asi 208 NETTLES STING Maria if she felt able to receive the visit, and darted ahead, not doubting the compliance with her request. She hurried to Maria's room, and did not observe till she turned to shut the door, that the pastor's wife was closely following her. That determined lady was already on the threshold and, without waiting for even so much as a nod of invitation or permission, she walked directly to the bed on which Maria was reclining. " Miss Maria," she began, " I am sorry you are too sick to come down stairs. Lie still, my dear ; don't attempt to rise. I felt as if I must come and talk with you a little. We should embrace opportunities of doing good as we have them. We do not know how soon they will pass away." ?U1 this was said as she advanced from the door to the bed. Taking the hand Maria offered, she retained it in her own, and seated herself beside the bed. Maria's welcome was in- distinctly uttered, and she stared at Mrs. Stryker with a be- wildered air, as if uncertain whether she were a part of the dream that had been abruptly terminated by her entrance, or a living reality. " You are sick a great deal," remarked Mrs. Stryker, in her hard, unsympathetic voice. " Yes," feebly murmured Maria. " You know what sickness is intended for ?" Maria's thoughts were not yet sufficiently collected for an answer. " It is intended," continued her instructress, " to warn us of death. You must not shut your eyes to this truth. You know not how short your time is. A person as frail as you are, may be taken off at any moment. Eternity is befor* WITH BEST INTENTIONS. 209 you. You ought to be thinking about it, and trying to gel ready for it." Maria covered her face. " I hope you are not unwilling to converse on this subject, are you ?" No answer. " Take care how you harden your heart against God. Perhaps the Spirit is striving with you now ; remember the exhortation, ' Grieve not the Spirit ;' ' Quench not the Holy Ghost.' Do you feel any interest, my dear, in the subject of religion ?" Maria looked imploringly to Helen to answer for her. " Mrs. Stryker," said Helen, " my sister is not at all in- sensible to the great truths of religion. But she never can talk freely on these subjects ; and now she is not well, and can not bear much conversation." " Well, ray dear," said Mrs. Stryker, addressing Maria, " I have done my duty as your pastor's wife. Should I never see you again, this will be a comfort to me. I hope, how- ever, that God will spare your life till you think and feel rightly, and are ready for eternity. I will leave you a tract, if you will accept it ; it may be a word in season." Mrs. Stryker produced the tract. Maria murmured a faint " thank you." And Nellie hurried the faithful pastoress down stairs, resolved not to leave her again, lest she might do some more mischief. About this time Mr. Lee returned. After due salutations to the ladies in the oak-room, he sought his pastor in the library. To his apologies, Mr. Stryker answered that he had been deeply interested in the work which he had found on the table. 210 NETTLES STING " By the by, where did you get it ? I see it is imported," Mr. Stryker concluded. " Several copies of it were imported by " "Howimielv is it? the price, I mean," interposed Mr. Stryker. " Five dollars." " Ah ! Five dollars ! I must go without it then for awhile. We ministers have to learn self-denial. Yet, really this is an important work. I hardly can dispense with it. But I must." Mr. Lee listened to the end, with a smile of ironical mean- ing, and then said, as little warmly as a generous nature could, " Accept that copy, sir, I will procure another for my- self." " You are very kind ; too kind. And that reminds me that I have an appeal to make to your liberality. I have concluded," and Mr. Stryker, while he spoke, opened the book, and reached over for the pen, " to establish a first- rate classical school ;" he paused to write upon the fly-leaf, in large letters, the name, James Stryker, Jr., with a customary flourish attached, " such a school is very much needed here." He paused again, intent on the inscription. " I was not at all aware that Cedarville needed a first-rate classical school," said Mr. Lee, with quiet satire. " Oh yes, indeed it does," answered Mr. Stryker, abstract- edly, still engaged with his pen, "you know" and he paused again to embellish the written page with another characteristic flourish. " There," he exclaimed, at last, " I shall value that book most highly, for your sake, sir ;" and he read aloud the in WITH BEST INTENTIONS. 211 scription for the gratification, as he honestly, or stupidly sup- posed, of Mr. Lee : JAMES ST11YKEK. JR., FROM HIS MOST HIGHLY ESTEEMED AND BELOVED FRIEND AND PARISHIONER, ROBERT LEE, ESQ., He was too intently interested and pleased himself, to ob- serve the expression of annoyance on Mr. Lee's face, who secretly resolved never to give another book that might bring his name into such unwonted combinations of esteem and affection. The air with which the book was laid aside, said, " that's safe, and now to business." and Mr. Stryker squared about and addressed himself to direct action. " Concerning the school, sir ; it will be a great advantage to the village." " Will you find a single pupil for a classical school in the village ?" asked Mr. Lee. " You misunderstand. It is a boarding-school I propose. Here, sir, read this draft of a prospectus." Mr. Lee received in silence the paper which Mr. Stryker produced from his pocket, am! read, without note or com- ment, a long grandiloquent eulogy on the beauty and health- ful iH-ss of Cedarville, and the transcendent excellence of the school which was to be established at the Bedminster parson- age, by the Rev. James Stryker, whose superior abilities and eapnbilities could be vouched for by some dozen most respect- 212 N ET TLES 8TI N (; able names ; first and foremost of whom was Robert Lee, Esq., of Truro. Without remark, Mr. Lee returned the pros- pectus to Mr. Stryker's hand, at the same moment, rising from his chair, he proposed joining the ladies in the oak- room. " What do you think of my plan ?" asked the disappointed pastor, pertinaciously keeping his seat. " It is a matter in which my judgment is of no value. I am not experienced in boarding-schools." And Mr. Lee walked to the door. " Wait one minute, if you please, sir," urged Mr. Stryker, still keeping his seat, as if to decoy his prey back again. "I shall need some funds for this enterprise. It will be neces- sary to erect an addition to the parsonage ; and as the ad- dition will be the property of the church, and the school will be an advantage to the village, I hope that the people will contribute something to aid the object." Mr. Stryker paused. Mr. Lee, with patience smiling po- litely on his face, remained silent, as if he were not expected to speak. "May I hope," ventured Mr. Stryker, coming directly to the point, "for a handsome contribution from the liberal owner of Truro ?" " No, sir," was the decided answer. What an art there is in saying " no." There is the weak and irresolute monosyllable that invites request anew. The sharp and irritated " no," that may be repented of in a cooler moment. The angry, rude " no," that repels the timid, but does not conquer the pertinacious beggar. The loud, impe- rious "no," designed to rebuff and silence, and does not always succeed. The gentle insinuating "no," that begs WITH BEST INTENTIONS. 213 you not to insist and not to be offended. The mild, prelim- inary " no," that precedes the reasons for refusal, and does not shut out argument, or decline the power of persuasion. And the polite, determined, full, round, clever " no," that leaves you as hopeless as if it were Mont Blanc suddenly rising before you, and yet as unruffled as if it were the sweet- est note of music that had breathed upon your ear. You do not think of asking its reasons, and you can not suppose that any affront to yourself is meant. The man has merely given you a simple, definite " no." His mind is made up ; no dis- respect is intended, no harm is done. Without another word the matter is dismissed, and ever after you are as good friends as if the "no" had never been uttered. This was the kind of " no" which Mr. Lee now spoke, and only the perfect gentleman, like Mr. Lee, can speak it. " No, sir," said Mr. Lee, and immediately led his guest to the oak-room. Arrived there, he devoted himself to the entertainment of Mr. Stryker ; and Mr. Stryker never pre- sumed again to speak of his school, and the advantages it was to be to the village of Cedarville. XXIII. Spiritual Jro0$ngs unter |afc Culture. "Now if a shepherd know not which grass will bane, or which not, how Is be fit to be a shepherd ?" GEOEGF. HKRBRBT. MRS. HUGHES was sewing. There were tear-drops in her eyes. She heard sonic one enter the room and did not look round as she put the inquiry, " George, is that you ?" " Yes." " Nellie has just been here, George. She would like you to call at Truro to see her sister Maria." " To see her sister Maria !" " Yes. Not to-day ; it is too late : to-morrow afternoon, if you can." "To see Miss Maria Lee?" asked George, with increasing surprise. " She is in great distress of mind, George, arid Nellie thinks you can comfort and instruct her." " In spiritual distress, Mrs. Hughes ?" it was the voice of Mr. Graves that asked this question. " Yes," was the startled answer of Mrs. Hughes. " I came in," Mr. Graves explained, in answer to the in- quiring and astonished looks of Mr. and Mrs. Hughes, SPIRITUAL D RO O P I N G 8, ETC . 215 " without knocking ; I saw you, sir, enter just before me and I thought your wife saw me pass the window." " Happy to sec you, sir," said George Hughes. " I heard only your last words, Mrs. Hughes, I should like to learn the particulars. How long has Miss Lee been in a state of religious anxiety .'" If there was a person to whom she would have preferred not to confide any information on the subject inquired about, that person was Mr. Amos Graves. But it was too late. He already knew almost as much as she did. She answered, giving her voice as much carelessness as the subject would allow, that she had heard no more than that Miss Lee was in M)iuc (iisnvss of mind, under some clouds and darkness as to lu-r spiritual ink-rests. Mr. Graves expressed unbounded satisfaction. From the pleasure Maria's troubles afforded him, it might be in- terred that "distress of mind" is a most delectable malady. "This is the beginning of a good work," he said. "The waters are moving. Mr. Stryker's preaching is taking ef- fect. If professors of religion are only faithful, we shall have a great revival soon. It will not be Mr. Stryker's fault, if we do not" " Will it be his merit if we do ?" asked George Hughes. " No : of course not. Paul may plant, and Apollos water, you know. Hut then God blesses the right means, and does not \\-nrk without them. We must all work, sir, and I have come to ;i>k yon to do soi net h ing for the good cause. Mr. Stryker \\ishes OIK- of the--e traeN plaeed in the hands of every impenitent sinner in the eongregntioii. It 's a very alarming, awakening tract. He wishes them distributed this week, for he intends to preach on the subject next Sunday, 216 SPIRITUAL DKOOPIKG6 and he wants sinners prepared to hear as for their lives. Will you aid us in circulating them, Mr. Hughes ?" " First, Mr. Graves, I must read and examine the tract it- self." Mr. Graves stared. Mr. Hughes answered the stare. " I do not approve of the indiscriminate distribution of all kinds of tracts." Mr. Graves was stunned. To look with suspicion on any thing in the shape of a religious tract ; or to doubt whether it were advisable to put any religious tract whatever into the hands of any person whomsoever, was a novel and horrible species of skepticism in Mr. Graves' apprehension. It all grew out of the low state of religion in Cedarville, was the conclusion he came to, on more mature reflection. But at the moment, he was prepared with DO answer and only re- marked, as he laid the tracts down, that he was sure this tract was well adapted to awaken sinners. Young Mr. Graves went back to the subject of Miss Lee. He was so glad to hear that that gay, volatile, worldly young lady was at last awakened. Mrs. Hughes corrected him. Miss Lee was not gay, vola- tile and worldly : but thoughtful, sedate and religiously dis- posed. Mr. Graves did not know how accurately the terms he used described the young lady herself. But she belonged to a frivolous and wicked family, which was about the same thing, in his judgment. But, awakened now, he hoped her feeling* would Income more and more poignant: and he had no doubt it was all owing to the faithful preaching of Mr. Stryker. The last position Mrs. Hughes contested. She thought it UNDER BAD CULTURE. 2lY doubtful if Miss Lee, who was delicate, and seldom attended church, had heard Mr. Stryker preach more than two or three times. That was often enough, Mr. Graves urged. But whether awakened by his preaching, or not, dear Mr. Stryker would be delighted to hear that she was awakened, and he must hasten to impart the joyful news to the pastor. Mrs. Hughes would have begged him not to inform Mr. Stryker ; but to whom should such information be commu- nicated, if not to the pastor? She hesitated; and Mr. Graves was gone. Pretty Margaret Ball was singing to herself, " If a body meet a body," when she was suddenly brought to a full stop, and nearly to the crying point, by meeting no less formidable a body than young Mr. Graves. " Hum !" said Margaret, to herself. " How do you do ?" said Mr. Graves, aloud, with a sen- sible fluttering about his virgin heart. " Thank you. Pleasant evening for November," Margaret coldly remarked. " Yes. You are alone, and it is growing late," was the response, suggestive of an escort at hand. " I was alone ;" the emphasis said she wished she could say " am." Mr. Graves felt the emphasis, and instead of offering his escort, stammered out something about its being good for Christians to be alone sometimes, that they might meditate. Margaret's rather embarrassing answer was, " Yes, Mr. 10 218 SPIRITUAL DROOPING8 Graves, I think it is sometimes very good ; so, good evening, sir." Mr. Graves was not quite ready to be dismissed. " One moment, Miss Margaret, if you please," and he laid iris hand on her arm to detain her. Miss Margaret stood still. Mr. Graves kept her waiting ; his thoughts would fly off to the pretty green ribbon she had bought in the store, or something else, that fixed his eyes and mind on the in- side of her bonnet. At last he began with due precision and solemnity. " Miss Margaret, we are about to have a great revival here. The work has already begun. You will rejoice to hear that Miss Maria Lee is suffering great agony of mind. " Miss Maria Lee ?" exclaimed Margaret. " Yes, Miss Maria Lee. Such is often the case ; the worst and most hardened are first awakened in the beginning of a revival." " I hope you do not place Miss Maria in that class !" ex- claimed Margaret, half amused, and more indignant. " W-e-11, not exactly in that class, perhaps ; but, we would not have expected the work to begin with her. But it has begun ; and we, professors, must now bestir ourselves and try to help it on. Of course you will do what you can. Perhaps you will consent to distribute some of these tracts. Mr. Stryker wishes them circulated among the impenitent and " " Tracts ?" interrupted Margaret, " What kind of tracts ? Is the Dairyman's Daughter among them ?" "No. They are all on the same subject; an alarming, awakening appeal to sinners ; a thunder shout in their ears ; a lightning bolt directed at their consciences." Mr. Graves UNDER BAD CULltfRE. 219 enthusiasm warmed, and his long finger darted the fiery weapons with pointed precision. "Who can tell what des- truction they will do. If you would only give one to your father, Miss Margaret, it might " '" Thank you, thank you," said Margaret, nervously, as the image of her father's flaming wrath at any such assault, was pictured to her imagination. " You must excuse me. I am not fit. I can not. Ask Sarah Hayes, she is just the person so quiet, gentle, and good. Folks will take any thing from Sarah. Good evening, Mr. Graves." And Margaret tripped away before he could add a word of persuasion. " How low the state of religion is : what a change the re- vival will make !" thought Mr. Graves, as he resumed his solitary walk to the parsonage : but, somehow, his thoughts were more occupied, during the rest of his walk, with the image of pretty Margaret Ball, than with either the low state of religion, or the prospective benefits of the revival. Oh, the frailty of this human heart ! The next morning the family at Truro were surprised by a visit from Mr. Stryker. He asked for Mrs. Lee, and when she entered the oak-room, he inquired immediately " how Miss Maria was ?" " As well as usual, thank you." " I mean in her mind ?" " In her mind ?" " Yes. ma'am. She is, I understand, under pungent con- victions of sin, asking what she shall do to be saved ? Has she found relief?" " I know nothing of it. Surely, Mr. Stryker, you are mis- taken." Mrs. Lee looked distressed and perplexed. She 220 SPIRITUAL DROOPING8 pulled tne bell-rope and desired the servant to call Miss Helen. Mr. Stryker was the first to catechize that young lady on her appearance, for Mrs. Lee could not yet comprehend the exact occasion of his visit. " I have come, Miss Helen, to have au interview with your sister Maria. I have heard of her concern for her soul yes," he added, observing Nellie's look of undisguised astonishment. " Mr. Graves heard it from Mrs. Hughes and informed me." " How could cousin Hetty !" ejaculated Nellie. " Helen," asked Mrs. Lee, " what does all this mean ?" " It means, ma', only that Maria is depressed in spirits and I spoke to Mrs. Hughes about it, not dreaming that it would go further." " This depression arises from religious feelings ?" asked Mr Stryker. "Yes, sir." " I had better see and converse with her, then," he said. " I would advise against it, sir," interposed Nellie, " she is so very weak and nervous " " Miss Helen," and Mr. Stryker assumed an air of severity, so like the reproving glances of the Sunday-school Jim Stryker, in old times, that Nellie found herself smiling at the recollection in spite of her real distress and annoyance, " Miss Helen, beware how you interfere with a pastor in the discharge of his duty. Mrs. Lee," and lie turned to the mother, as the higher authority the act itself was another rebuke to Nellie, as if she were assuming too much " have you any objections to my seeing your daughter ?" UNDER BAD CULTURE. 221 " Oh, no, of course not : that is, if you think you ought to and if she is willing. Certainly, Helen, my dear, if Maria needs religious counsel she ought to receive it from Mr. Stryker." " I will tell Maria that Mr. Stryker is here," Helen an- swered meekly. The pastor was escorted to the sick room. He plied the invalid with questions, which either she did not understand, or could not overcome her natural incommunicativeness to answer. Failing to draw her out, and ascribing her tacitur- nity to to a voluntary cause, he proceeded in his alarming way to warn her against stifling conviction. Few were the words of hope and promise he spoke. His very prayer was comfortless. And he left the sick girl in deeper despond- ency than he found her in. George Hughes called in the afternoon : Maria was too ill to see him. Helen explained the reason why she had in- vited his visit, and which, in her hasty call on horse-back at the tannery, the day before, she had not been able to give in detail to Mrs. Hughes. The tender interest in Bible truth which Maria had evinced for a year past : her conscientious regard to all her duties : her earnest seeking after light : her self-distrust : her extreme diffidence in speaking of herself, even to her sister ; and all the grounds on which rested the hope that she was indeed a child of God Helen now re- peated to George Hughes. "A few days since," she con- tinued, "Mrs. Stryker paid her a visit, conversed with her and gave her a tract to read. After the visit, and es- pecially after reading the tract, Maria seemed unusually depressed in mind. At last in broken words she told me the cause : she feared lest she had sinned away the 222 SPIRITUAL DROOPINGS day of grace and resisted the mercy of God till she was given over to unbelief and hardness of heart ; and that that was the reason why no light, peace, hope and joy were im- parted to her in answer to her prayers. For these fears she gave not a solitary good reason. Weak, nervous and natur- ally disposed to despondency, the tract and Mrs. Stryker's conversation together, had disturbed her mind and agitated her to such a degree that she was ready to believe that she had committed even that most awful sin, a sin of the real nature of which she has not one clear idea." " What was the title of Mrs. Stryker's tract ?" Mr. Hughes asked. " ' Sin against the Holy Ghost.' " " I feared so." " You know the tract then, and do not approve of it ?" " I read it last night. It relates a remarkable case of a man who resisted, resolutely and maliciously resisted, relig- ious impressions, till he became completely insensible to the subject, and after a life of wickedness, was suddenly struck down by death in the just judgment of God." " Yes ;" exclaimed Helen, " that is the very one. Dear Mr. Hughes, can it be right to put such a tract into the hands of every body." " Certainly not, Nellie. To do so is like administering the same powerful medicine to every sick person. Some the medicine would cure ; to most it would be death. That tract is exactly adapted to produce the effect on weak minds and sensitive consciences, that it has upon your sister. She needs the Gospel medicine the free, full, persuasive offers of the blessed Saviour. Oh ! that our ministers could oftener ap- ply to themselves the Lord's recommendation of Himself UNDER BAD CULTURE. 223 aa a teacher : ' Learn of Me, for I am meek and lowly in heart.' " "Indeed," says President Edwards, "something beside,* terror is to be preached to them whose consciences are awakened. They are to be told that there is a Saviour pro- vided, who is excellent and glorious ; who has shed His pre- cious blood for sinners, and is every way sufficient to save them, if they will heartily embrace Him. This is tho word of God. Sinners, at the same time that they are told how miserable their case is, should be earnestly invited to come and accept of a Saviour, and yield their hearts unto Him, with all the winning, encouraging arguments, that the gospel affords." XXIV. g Jlatoer (iatbmfc fog a ' At evening time let there be light : Life's little day draws near Its close ; Around me fall the shades of night, The night of death, the grave's repose ; To crown my joys, to end my woes, At evening time let there be light. "At evening time there ahdtt be light: For God hath said' So let it be !' Fear, doubt, and anguish take their flight, His glory now is risen on me ; Mine eyes shall his salvation see : Tis evening time, and there is light" JAKES MONTGOMEBY. TJELEN was saluted, on her way to church, the next Sun- -*-'- day, with the question pronounced with every shade of solemn interest, " How does your sister Maria feel now ?" She was distressed to find that the subject of village gossip which she would have preferred to confine to the confidence of few. Poor Maria ! must she, so sensitive to remark, suf- fer the public exposition of her most sacred feelings ! Mr. Stryker, too, could hardly have prayed more pointedly, and, Nellie thought, indelicately, for her sister, had he mentioned her by name. Mr. Stryker was addicted to personalities, even in prayer. How often Nellie felt the loss of the ele- vated and tender tone of Mr. Poole's devotional spirit. The rumor of Miss Lee's religious anxiety (repeated till it A FLOWER GATHERED, ETC. 225 had grown, by exaggerations, distortions, and addenda, into a tale of formidable length and most minute details), aided by the alarming and awakening tract, which had been gen- erously distributed ; and, followed by Mr. Stryker's " rous- ing sermon," as Mr. Graves called it, which was a reiteration of the fearful warnings of the tract, produced a deep and powerful impression among the villagers. Before the day was over, there were evidences that others, besides Miss Lee, were " under convictions." Mr. Stryker, therefore, gave no- tice that there would be religious services in the church every evening that week ; a prayer-meeting at five o'clock every morning, in the school-house ; and a meeting for in- quirers at four o'clock every afternoon, at the parsonage. The revival began then in good earnest, and continued for three weeks. President Edwards says, " The great weakness of the greater part of mankind, in any affair that is new and uncommon, appears in not distinguishing, but either approv- ing or condeming all in the lump." Avoiding that weak- ness, we shall not, with young Mr. Graves, " approve in the lump," nor, with Steve Ball, " condemn in the lump," all that was done in that revival, but only aver, that many were added unto the church of such as should be saved, and many crept in unawares. Night after night, Nellie heard the sharp twang of the church bell ringing the villagers to meeting. The first hur- ried, rattling peal, the regular succession of quick, loud strokes of the clapper, the long, sullen vibrations of the slow tolling, and the final bang, with which the sexton announced his own satisfaction that the job was over. How familiar did these notes become as Nellie sat in the sick room of her dying sister, and how inseparably associated with those 10* 226 A FLOWEK GATHERED hours of watcLing was, ever afterward, the sound of the Cedarville bell. Why are relations and friends ever blind to the insidious advances of disease, which a proper degree of observation might detect 1 For months the flower had been fading un- der their eyes, and they saw it not, till their fears were aroused by this severe and sudden attack. Then consulta- tions were held, plans proposed, means discussed, that were too tardy by a twelvemonth. They would convey her to Charlotte's plantation in the sunny south ; she should go to Cuba ; the most eminent medical advice in Europe should be consulted ; the balmiest atmosphere of France, Italy, or the Mediterranean isles should be tried alas ! all too late ! neglectful inattention had suffered the uncomplaining invalid to pass the point of possible recovery. Physicians, now vainly called, shook their heads and pronounced no word of hope. For ten days after Mr. Stryker's visit, Maria was in a burning fever, and either madly delirious, or bewildered in confused wanderings of thought : then the fever subsided ; extreme prostration followed, and her mind, never strong or active, seemed incapable of the least exertion. Nellie, the meanwhile, was kept a constant prisoner at the bed-side ; her ever cheerful face and voice soothed the patient, when no other could. One Sunday morning Helen sought refreshment and exer- cise in the garden. Maria, after a quiet night, was sleeping and did not need her. It was the third week in November. The fall, late that year, was now rapidly advancing to the embrace of winter. The atmosphere, when she first left the house, felt wet and chilly. A few flowers, which still sur- BY A GENTLE REAPER. 22 Y vived, poor comfortless tilings, exhaled a withered odor. Nellie's heart was heavy ; and the first look out-doors made it heavier. She thought of Tennyson's sad song and repeat- ed the words to herself. "The air is damp and hushed and close, As a sick man's room when he taketh repose An hour before death ; My very heart faints and my whole soul grieves At the moist rich smell of the rotting leaves, And the breath Of the fading edges of the box beneath, And the year's last rose. Heavily hangs the broad sun-flower Over its grave i' the earth so chilly ; Heavily hangs the holly-hock, Heavily hangs the tiger-lily." " These," thought Nellie, " are the sentiments of the world that can not look on decay and death without gloom. They are unchristianlike and unfit for a Christian's Sabbath-day musings." She looked toward the hills. The mists were rolling up to their summits and melting away in the light blue sky above them. The sun at that moment came out from behind the one solitary cloud that was visible. The glow of exercise by this time began to animate her. Better and happier thoughts flowed in upon her mind and chased away the foreboding and cheerless feelings which had for a moment oppressed her. Nellie was no mere worshiper of nature. She found " tongues in trees, books in running brooks, sermons in stones, and good in every thing ;" but the Bible furnished her with the text and interpretation, and nature afforded only the apt illustrations. Often a worshiper iu that temple 228 A FLOWER GATHERED which is domed with the sky, she loved still more the place, however humble or unadorned, whether the mountain side, the wooden meeting-house, or the carved, fretted, and costly edifice of stone, where Bible truth was uttered, the Spirit's promised grace poured down in power and demonstration, and a goodly company of Christiau hearts joined in the com- munion of saints. In the church of God, she heard Christ's voice, in its plain, practical utterances, the voice of a Sav- iour from sin and death, without which the teachings and suggestions of the sky and sea and earth and air, are myste- rious, incomprehensible, misleading, or unsatisfactory. It was of Christ that she thought now. Of His resurrec- tion, of His ascension to heaven, when the cloud received Him out of sight, of His coming again in the clouds of heaven, of the bliss and glory that shall follow, and of the best of all promises, that where He is there His people shall be also. " And so shall they ever be with the Lord," she re- peated to herself. Her heart exulted in the hope. Joyously she gave utterance to her feelings, and sung, in a voice of uncommon richness and cheeriness of tone, this Sabbath hymn: " ' Forever with the Lord !' Amen ; so let it be ; Life from the dead is in that word, 'T is immortality. " Knowing as I am known, How shall I love that word, And oft repeat before the throne, ' Forever with the Lord !' " The trump of final doom "Will speak the self-same word, And heaven's voice thunder through the tomb, 'Forever with the Lord I' BY A GENTLE REAPER. 229 " The tomb shall echo deep That death-awakening sound ; The saints shall hear it in their sleep, And answer from the ground. " Then upward as they fly, That resurrection-word Shall be their shout of victory, ' Forever with the Lord !' " That resurrection-word, That shout of victory, Once more, 'For ever with the Lord!' Amen ; so let it be. " Nellie sang only the first stanza alone. As she began the next, a sweet second stole gently in, and a full, soft bass followed. She turned and smiled her recognitions. George and Hetty Hughes had called to inquire after the invalid. The hymn was hardly finished when a message came that Maria asked for her. First escorting George and Hetty to the oak-room, she sought the sick chamber. When Helen looked upon the face of her sick sister, her heart beat with a strange sensation of pain and of pleasure. What meant that change ? that singular sharpening of the features, that unusual intelligence of the eye, that sweet serenity about the mouth ? With difficulty Helen com- manded herself, and ki.ssed the face that smiled upon her with an expression so loving, and yet startling. " Who was that singing ?" asked Maria. u Mr. Hughes, cousin Hetty, and myself." " It was very pleasant. It seemed to come from oh, so far away !" Just then the church bell for morning service broke the silence. 230 A. FLOWER GATHERED " What is that ?" asked Maria, with a start. " The bell for church. It is Sunday." " Church Sunday," the invalid murmured, with half-ap- prehension. " Will Mr. Poole preach ?" " No, my dear sister ;" Nellie was weeping now. " Why not ?" " Mr. Poole is in heaven, Maria." She was silent for a few minutes. Nellie thought she was sleeping. Again she opened her eyes, and spoke now with less languor. " Strange how bewildered I become. I quite forgot that Mr. Poole was gone. Yet, oh, how often I think about him. I was not afraid of him. I always knew him, you know; and he seemed like one of the family, almost. If I could go to church and hear him preach to- day ; or, if he could only come here and talk and pray with me, would it not be pleasant ?" " How would you like Mr. Hughes to come and pray with you ?" Helen asked. " I should like it very much. Are you sure he has not gone r " He is in the oak-room ; I will send for him." " Dear Nellie, let Mrs. Hughes come too, and you three sing another hymn here." The same messenger that called Mr. and Mrs. Hughes was directed to summon the other members of the family. One by one they came in. Maria selected the hymn : " Thousands, Lord of Hosts I this day, Around Thine altar meet ; And tens of thousands throng to pay Their homage at Thy feet. BY A GENTLE REAPER. 231 They see Thy power and glory there As I have seen them too ; They read, they hear, they join in prayer, As I was wont to do ; They sing Thy deeds, as I have sung, In sweet and solemn lays ; Were I among them my glad tongue Might learn new themes of praise. For Thou art in their midst to teach, When on Thy name they call ; And Thou hast blessings, Lord, for each, Hast blessings, Lord, for all. I, of such fellowship bereft, In spirit turn to Thee ; Oh ! hast Thou not a blessing left, A blessing, Lord, for me ? I may not to Thy courts repair, Yet here Thou surely art ; Lord, consecrate a house of prayer In my surrender'd heart. To faith reveal the things unseen, To hope the joys untold ; Let love, without a vail between, Thy glory now behold." The prayer which followed the hymn was sweet as music, and simple and earnest as a child would have uttered. " How pleasant !" murmured Maria, after an interval of silence, in which she had lain with closed eyes and clasped hands. " What is pleasant, Maria ?" asked Nellie. " To think of God of Jesus and of Heaven." Then opening her eyes and turning to Mr. Hughes, she said, 232 A FLOWER GATHERED " Please, sir, tell me if there is any thing I ought to do. I can not think for myself. I am rapt as in a sweet dream." George repeated these words. " ' Behold, I stand at the door, and knock : if any man hear My voice, and open the door, I will come in to him, and will sup with him and he with Me.' Listen to the summons of the Saviour perhaps His last. Open your heart and receive Him." "I do. Is that art.*" "That is art." " All for such a sinner, Mr. Hughes ?" " ' Behold the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sins of the world.' ' He that believeth on the Son of God hath eternal life.' What more assurance does the sinner need, that if he have received Christ into his heart, he has with Christ pardon, life, and God's blessing forever? Christ is our all and in all." " 'All and in all,' " repeated the sick girl. " Yes : I feel it. Thank you, Mr. Hughes, you have done me good." "Dear sister," said Nellie, after Mr. and Mrs. Hughes had quietly left the room and the tearful family stood gazing on that placid and happy face " do you know how very ill you are ?" There was a struggle perhaps with a moment's pain at the thought of separation, perhaps with the natural re- luctance to speak freely of herself and then she answered, plaintively but firmly. " Yes, Nellie yes, father, mother and all, I do. I have been a useless member of the family. I am going where -I shall be fitted to serve God night and day. I long for what I never had, the ability to do something to be of some use." She was interrupted by a sigh. It came from her mother. BY A GENTLE REAPER. 233 " Dear ma'," she said, " you are more useful in your sweet, quiet way, than you think for : and such as we are, dear mother, may be willing to die for Christ, if we can not speak for Him. I love you all," she continued, looking round up- on the others, " but I love the Saviour more. Nellie, do you tell them, when I am gone, what you know I would like to, if I could. Thank them, Nellie, for their kindness to me : thank father, mother and all : none but Jesus can bless you, dear Nellie, for all the good, only He knows of, that you have done me." After these words she said little. Sometimes she spoke a word, as if in meditation on some holy subject, or as if she saw in vision the object of the Christian's hope the Heaven- ly inheritance. But she grew weaker and feebler every mo- ment : she slept much : and ere the sun set on the Sabbath day, she was with the Lord Jesus. XXV. an& 1 "There Is a bad way of wilful swallowing of a temptation and not digesting It, or laying it out of memory without any victoriousness of faith ; the Lord, who forbids fainting, forbids also despising." SAMPEL EUTILERPORD. E first death in a family how sensitively is it felt ; how does it unite hearts, open confidences, strengthen love, give a touching gentleness to every voice, lend pathos to every even the commonest act of courtesy, and set every nerve of the household circle vibrating at the least provoca- tion with trembling tenderness. The members of the house- hold are subdued into docility, and then, if ever, are willing to listen to the instructions and consolations of the Christian faith. Then the pastor is regarded as no intruder into the domestic circle that closes to itself every other avenue of access. The ear is open to his words, the hand returns a warmer pressure to his salutation, and the eye is moistened at his kind and holy solicitude. Let the pastor be himself pos- sessed of the spirit of the Gospel and his visits to the house of mourning will produce Gospel fruits. But no such pastor came to Truro. Stiff, unpliant and coarse, even in his sympathies, the minister of Cedarville could not melt into the transient tenderness of that sorrow- ful home. He was bent on being faithful ; he was pertina- LIGHT SORROWS, ETC. 235 cious in improving the event of death ; and he was almost fierce in his assaults on each separate member of the family. He did not weep with those that wept, but he warned, ex- horted, and lectured them. Robert, Theresa, and Gracie Darling (Mrs. Darling was prevented by sickness from obey- ing the summons to Truro), stared at the pastor, as if he were a new species of the clerical family. Harry laughed at him ; Mrs. Lee felt uncomfortable, Miss Brown indignant, and Nellie sorrowful, in his presence. Mr. Lee waved him off with polite adroitness, and Rupert after one rencounter, ever after turned his back upon him, not so much as saving his own reputation for gentlemanly deportment. What might not Mr. Poole with his childlike heart and godly sincerity and the needful blessing, have done for Truro, in these first days of sensibility and sadness? But they wore away without improvement. One by one, the members of the family escaped from the transitory influence of the passing shadow; all but Nellie and Mrs. Lee. Nellie could not forget the sister whom she had so long prayed for and so recently taken sweet counsel with ; and the mother's heart could never recover from its first loss the loss too of one with whose quiet disposition there had ever been an unspoken sympathy. The rest could forget, and did. Mr. Lee returned to his books and his agri- cultural experiments. Rupert renewed his sporting propen- sities. Harry in business, and Robert in pleasure, lost the remembrance of the sad visit to the homestead. And when the summer came, and with it the sisters and their families, one could hardly recognize a trace of the sorrow which was startled into ephemeral existence by the intelligence that a sister slept with the dead ; and of which, purple flowers and 236 LIGHT SORROWS lilac trimmings hardly suggested a remembrance, under the guise or disguise of mourning attire. The uncongeniality of the village pastor was felt more and more. The calls of his officious wife upon the visitors at Truro, were sparsely and formally returned. The family pew at church had often now no other occupants than Mrs. Lee and Nellie. Mr. Lee and his other children, and even sen- sible Miss Brown, satisfied their consciences that it was right to ride ten miles to hear a minister of repute in the town of Montgomery, rather than one mile to attend a service which did not exactly suit their taste. For the sake of sacred casu- istry let us enter a caveat against their decision. Truro was more than usually gay this summer. There seemed to be a special effort to gather together the liveliest and most thoughtless visitors. The house was full. Almost daily there were new arrivals and departures, and each ac- cession was celebrated by some new scheme of amusement. Even Mr. Lee was carried away in the flood-tide of gayety. His study was exchanged, of afternoons and evenings, for the bustle of the parlors, and he was ready among the foremost for all excursions to mountain tops, water-falls, or pic-nic val- leys, near and remote. Nellie wondered at him, and regret- ted her personal loss in the separation which was effected be- tween her father and herself. Nellie fell back into her old place in the household, being left by all, even her father, to take care of herself as she pleased. No longer a child, though not arrived at the time of " coming out," she began to comprehend her own position and to examine with some curious interest the charactei-s and peculiarities of these brothers and sisters of hers. How different were the motives and aims of their liv^s from her AND" HEAVY PLEASURES. 237 own, if indeed they (and this puzzled her) had any motives and aims. They were perpetually busied, to the weariness of mind and body, with what seemed to Nellie the veriest trifles. This was especially true of her two sisters. They were still, as they had ever been, wonderfully alike. Char- lotte Gay lord had the peculiar southern languor of manner, and Emma Darling the erect, self-conscious carriage of the New York belle. Both were elegant women : both showed, and showed too plainly, that they were used to admiration and that they enjoyed it : both made a business of pleasure and consumed themselves with cares and anxieties about dress and nonsense. The taste and richness of their ward- robes Nellie could admire : but how they could spend so much time in the mere getting up of a wardrobe and in talking about it after it was got up, Nellie could only admire about. One day, after listening for a long time to a conver- sation about leghorns, laces, jewelry and Parisian milliners and mantua-makers, interspersed with many names of fashion- able celebrity, in the course of which Nellie learned that one of the sisters had a dozen expensive hats the year pre- vious, and the other an endless number and variety of man- tles, and that neither thought a thousand dollars an extrava- gant price for a real India shawl Nellie resolved to test the character of their religious sentiments. "Sister Charlotte," she began, "is your plantation very pretty ?" " Yes, my dear, you must come and see it for yourself. I suppose you can not, though, till you are through with Miss Brown." " I should like to see a plantation once. Have you many neighbors ?" 88 LIGHT SORROWS " None nearer than three miles, but plenty within ten and twelve miles. We think little of riding twice as far; out southern horses are so perfectly broken, and so easy in theii paces. But as we pass a part of our winters in New Orleans and all our summers at the north, a little quietness between whiles on the plantation is not unpleasant." " How near is your church f ' " What, the country church ? It is about six miles from our place. I wish it was nearer, it fatigues one to sit through the service after a long ride : I can not attend as often as I would wish." " What kind of a minister have you ?" " He is a dear, good man : and so gentlemanly. He often dines with us on Sunday. Mr. Gaylord likes to have him to talk away the afternoon. Sunday is so tedious for gentle- men who are not literary and are too conscientious for cards or gunning." " Has your minister only one service on Sunday ?'' " He occasionally preaches an afternoon sermon to the servants on some of the plantations." "Our northern ministers preach too much," Mrs. Oracle Darling exclaimed. "Dear Mr. Sydney Smith Parsons is quite witty about it. He says they preach down all they preach up." " Is Mr. Sydney Smith Parsons your pastor, sister Emma?" Nellie asked. " Yes, my dear." " Does he visit you often ?" " Oh, yes. He attends all my soirees, and comes to din- ner whenever he is invited. He decline? invitations to large AND HEAVY PLEASURES. 239 parties and balls. He says the piety of the age is not equal to the holy use of such festivities." " Are his visits like those we used to have at Truro from Mr. Poole ?" asked Nellie, with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. " Like Mr. Poole's visits ! How many questions you do ask. Of course not. Such visits would not be proper in the city. He did pay me one visit though, very much like dear Mr. Poole's. He happened to call just after Maria's death and found me sick and in deplorable spirits : and he com- forted me so sweetly and talked so beautifully. He quoted that sentiment of one of the Fathers, I suppose it is, he is very fond of the Fathers. ' Moderate lamentation is the right of the dead, excessive grief the enemy to the living.' " " 'Seems to me," said Nellie, smiling, " the Father that said that, belonged to patristic dramatists and not to patristic theologians." " How much reason we have, to rejoice," interrupted Charlotte, " that dear Maria was so devotedly pious." " Devotedly pious," repeated Nellie to herself, reflectively. " Yes, indeed," answered Emma. " Mr. Parsons said that our loss was her gain." Nellie was glad to escape at this point from a conversa- tion she had herself begun : and it was sometime before she could recover her ordinary cheerfulness : it was so sorrowful that two intelligent, baptized women should be so thoroughly unchristian. Nellie was no less a mystery to her two sisters than they were to her. One day, as the two were passing Nellie's room, they were attracted to a closer inspection. It was the little room that opened by a French window over the porch 240 LIGHT SOB HOWS on the southern side of the house. Nellie used it as a bou- doir and carefully kept the door shut against intruders : but now, unluckily, it was open, and the glimpse afforded was too inviting to be resisted. So the two sisters walked in and seated themselves on a dimity-covered couch. The little balcony over the porch was covered with flowers : yellow stone-crop and delicate Mexican and Cyprus vines trailed down from the corner posts, and the sides were latticed with sweet briars and honeysuckles in full bloom. Within the room were vases filled with the choicest and most deli- cate plants. Two canaries, presents from Mr. Sickles and such as he only could select, hung on either side of the win- dow. A statuette of the Graces adorned one corner ; and in another, stood on a marble pedestal a miniature clock, its frame curiously fashioned in the form of a sun-dial. An an- tique cabinet and writing desk, purchased by brother Norton in Italy, stood against the wall near the window, and op- posite to it an exquisite rose-wood book-case. In the middle of the room was a table on which was a flower-press, a costly microscope, a case of drawing materials, and various pamphlets : and by the table a chair, so light that a child could lift it, so comfortable that any one could sleep in it, and so exquisitely wrought of colored straws that a fairy might have woven it This last was a present from cousin Hetty Hughes : Nellie accused her of having stolen it from Queen Mab's bower. The sisters examined the room and its furniture with crit- ical curiosity. " The child has taste ; an eye for elegance and for comfort too," Emma remarked. " Yes, indeed," answered Charlotte. " What a singular AND HEAVY PLEASURES. 241 air of cheerfulness and repose, beauty and utility ! just like herself. She is a singular child, Emma, I am afraid a little eccentric, but she will get over that." " She has beauty," remarked Emma. " Yes, but almost too rosy, and she laughs too much." " What a sensation she will make when she comes out !" said Emma, rising to examine the library. The volumes were not numerous. " What a queer collection of books !" she exclaimed. " Bunyan's works, Baxter's, volumes of tracts, Faerie Queene, Shakspeare, George Herbert, Jeremy Taylor, Dickens, Crabbe's tales, Methodist hymns, Wordsworth " "Here," interrupted Charlotte, who was turning over the pamphlets on the table, " is a pile of missionary journals and here is another of congressional speeches and de- bates." " And here," replied Emma, " is a whole shelf of mission- ary books, I take them to be. Henry Martyn, Schwartz, Missions in Africa, Sandwich Islands, India, Mrs. Judson, Brainard, Harriet Newell." " What can the child be doing with them : surely she can not read them !" said Chalotte languidly, tired at the very thought of such light reading. " They would make her dolorous if she did," answered Emma. " Well." the sister replied, " a little touch of melancholy would become her. She is far enough from it now ?" And both laughing, left the room. That night, the little desk which had resisted the inquisi- tive fingers of the sisters, was opened by Nellie herself, and on a new page she made a new entry. " Why am I never so much alone as when surrounded 11 242 LIGHT SORROWS, ETC. by sisters and brothers ? Are they indifferent to me, or I tc them ? Where are the sympathies which should flow freely between us ? They are all kind and affectionate ; and I must love them and bear with them. O that He, who maketh His children to differ from the world, would make; them His children ! Even dear Harry once we thought and felt alike seems to have grown unlike me. He is so engrossed with business. Father says he will make a thorough merchant. Is he in the way to lay up treasure above ? Dear father ! he shuns those pleasant Sunday even- ing talks we used to have. Strange that this year, while Maria's death is fresh in memory, he should forsake church as he has never done in all his life ! Dear, indulgent father. Oh that he And mother, she seems to like to have me with her in her little room ; and she so quiet, and I so noisy. I do long to be a comfort and happiness to father and mother." XXVI. Sum Bribing pants an& Pore Merits. " Remember well what love and age advise ; A qniet rector is a parish prize, "Who in his learning has a decent pride ; Who to his people is a gentle guide ; Who only hints at failings that he sees ; Who loves his glebe, his patron, and his ease." GEORGE CT.ABBE rP HE tannery in these days was in the sun-light. George - and Hetty Hughes had more and more reason to believe that they were, as George had said, " made for each other." True love and true happiness are never far apart. George had not attended the chemical lectures in vain. They had been of more practical service to him than ever Hetty's French lessons had to her. His improvements in the methods of tanning, and his inventions in the ways of dressing leather, had brought wealth into his possession. The " tannery," strictly speaking, was removed from the vicinity of the house, to that of the grist-mill in the valley below, where it was surrounded with tall factories of patent and enameled leather, and quite a village of mechanics' and laborers' dwellings. George persisted in calling his house " The Tannery." He loved the association with the name, and, perhaps, regarded it with that pride with which the self-made man exhibits the 244 SOME THRIVING PLANTS, evidences of his once humble estate. The Tannery, neverthe- less, by sundry and tasteful additions, had grown to be the largest and most beautiful residence in the village ; and Mr. George Hughes himself was, next to Robert Lee, Esq., the most influential man in the county rendered so not merely by the power of money, but by the higher power of intelli- gence and integrity. Miss Brown, alone, with all her thorough respect for its inmates, never forgot that there was some condescension in her visits to the Tannery. One only sorrow had fallen on George and Hetty Hughes. Little George, their second child, was taken from them. But they despised not the chastening of the Lord, nor fainted when they were rebuked of Him ; they kissed the rod, and blessed the name of the Lord who gave and who took away. No sorrow can blight the peace and joy of trustful hearts. Little Hetty, their oldest child, was now their only one, and the darling pet of Nellie Lee. All that the mother had been to Nellie, Nellie was to the daughter her Sabbath- school teacher, her play-mate, her counsellor, and her friend. By Nellie's management, Hetty became her companion in the Truro school-room. Miss Brown was not averse to. the instruction of the new pupil. Nellie became herself a teacher Hetty's only teacher in drawing and music and learned much from the quick and thoughtful little scholar. It was an accession to the school-room in which all parties were benefited, and infused vivacity into the routine which had sometimes grown stale and insipid when Nellie was the only learner. Soon after Maria's death, there was still another addition to the school-room. Theresa Lee was seized with a sudden longing to re-visit Europe ; perhaps, because she could not, AND MORE WEEDS. 245 after so recent an affliction in her husband's family, plunge into the gayeties of the world ; and Truro, where she would be expected to spend her summer, always too quiet for her taste, now wore an air of melancholy. However that was, Robert and she sailed away, and left their son Robert and his tutor, Monsieur Maillart, at Truro. There was now a new arrangement of classes and studies. Miss Brown and Nellie became class-mates in the modern languages, and Hetty and Robert in English and French. Miss Brown was the teacher in all English branches, Monsieur confined him- O ' self to the languages, ancient and modern. Never was there a busier and happier school-room, for never were there more willing and interested scholars, and more able and faithful teachers. In her studies, her care of the two children, her rambles with them for pleasure through the woods, her excursions with Mr. and Mrs. Hughes after botanical and geological specimens, in which sciences George had become no indiffer- ent instructor, in her garden, and in her rides on horse-back with Robert or Caesar now for an escort (her father seldom gave her that pleasure), Nellie was independent of the other members of the family for her enjoyment of life. Her only cause for sadness was the growing spirit of irreligion in the household and the comfortlessness of going to church with no one but her mother for a companion in the large empty pew. The Truro pew was not the only one in Cedarville church that showed vacant seats. In old times the church was full at Sunday-morning worship ; every body went. Even Tim Whittaker, tavern-keeper, closed his bar while " church was in ;" and a proud man he was, when he could show some 246 SOME THRIVING PLANTS, chance stranger, spending Sunday in the village, up the aisle to his own pew, and with the dignified air of a publican take his own seat at the head of it. Sieve Ball, the blacksmith, too, always attended divine service, and if he went from the church to the tavern, he never staid there long, and talked, while he did stay, of the sermon. But now the bar was never closed. Tim Whittaker donned his Sunday-suit only at funerals. Steve Ball too often forgot, while the sermon was overlong in the church, that his potations were over many at the tavern. The revival had not realized every hope the sanguine Graves indulged. The large accession to the number of communicants was not apparent by any extraordinary in- crease of the fruits of godliness in the church, or in the vil- lage. It is doubtful if there was more vigor in the Christian character of the villagers than in the days of good Mr. Poole, when affairs moved so quietly that Mr. Graves pronounced the church dead, and even the revivals but slumberous awakenings from deeper sleep. But Mr. Graves would have spoken as wisely if he had pronounced 'the grass dead, be- cause he could not hear it grow. The grass nevertheless, would be fresh and verdant, as was the religious aspect of Cedarville under the ministrations of Mr. Poole. In old times, there had been a delusive notion that there were in Cedarville no arrant scapegraces. Wickedness was not flagrant there. Some singular restraint held in check the passions of the vicious. The very tavern had a good moral character as good as a tavern could have. It kept methodical hours, and seldom suffered idle loiterers to gar- nish its door-steps. Sometimes, indeed, on election-days foi instance, frolics would happen. At such times, a sad, won- AND MORE WEEDS. 247 dering whisper, like the murmuring ripples of the river that tell tales of a storm at sea, would steal about the village^ tell- ing tales of the tavern, and Mr. Poole would be detected, by curious eyes, on cautious visits to the abodes of certain young men, who would be eyed askance by the whole con- gregation on the next Sunday, and would look very much ashamed of themselves. But matters were not so now. The tavern lost its sedate- ness, and its frequenters their propriety. Tim Whittaker's premises were haunted, day and night, by a godless set of " old covies" and " fast young blades," as they called them- selves. Mr. Stryker called them, with equal propriety, " old sots," and " young topers." The morality of Cedarville suffered general deterioration. There was more gossiping among the old, and frolicking among the young " folks," than had ever been known. The staid sobriety and severe simplicity of ancient habits and manners, suffered from the incursion of new modes and a rage for the last fashions. Ribbons no longer descended from grandmothers to granddaughters, but were bought new by special messengers, at the town of Montgomery, or were supplanted by flowers, feathers, and ornamental appendages, which made the assembled congregation in the church look as gay as a poppy bed. We have no idea of imputing these changes to the fault of the Cedarville minister. There was an influence wanting which once had powerfully pervaded the community ; an in- fluence which Mr. Stryker, however faithful and earnest, never could, under any circumstances, exert ; the influence which an humble, patient, gentle, prayerful, affectionate, and tireless pastor alone can exert. 248 SOME THRIVI-NG PLANTS, Mr. Poole's goodness, and unobtrusive fidelity had in- fused his own spirit into the hearts of the people, and were felt every where, and restrained when they did not correct Mr. Stryker's violent activity only resulted in great and occa- sional dttterb&aoes of the moral forces, and gained for itself no permanent or extensive sway over the hearts and con- sciences of l: : s parishioners. But there was fault in Mr. Stryker, too. He suffered his attention and labors to be distracted from what should have been the one object of his life the spiritual care of the flock. Other thoughts and anxieties filled his mind. He did not preach from house to house, and reprove, rebuke, and exhort with meekness, long-suffering, and doctrine, the individual members of his charge. He satisfied himself with his Sun- day performances, and such extraordinary efforts as seasons of peculiar interest might demand ; and, as he became less faithful in private, he grew more severe in public. His ser- mons lost the merit of his early compositions, in regard to careful preparation and intellectual ability, and became mere denunciations, sometimes of a character too personal, against the sins and failings of the times. The fact was, Mr. Stryker was engrossed with his school. The eye that perpetually glanced at the pews in the gallery, filled with restless boys, showed whore the thoughts of the preacher were. Those boys ! how they annoyed Nellie. Restless spirits in church and out of it; wandering about the village at the very hours when she loved to walk its grass-grown street ; scouring the country around, invading even the seclusion of Truro ; and despoiling the parsonage of its beauty. The parsonage was indeed changed. The flower-beds had AND MORE WEEDS. 249 disappeared. Dead trees were not removed ; living ones were trimmed to the peril of life, that Mrs. Stryker might " see the world," and that Mr. Stryker's horse and cows might have grass to eat. The grove that once overshadowed the study, was cut down to afford the forty boys ("forty thieves" Rupert called them, for they helped themselves to the fruits of all orchards), a play -ground under the immediate eye of their instructor ;, no grass could grow there. Behind the naked play-ground, a long, ugly edifice, without so much ornament as a cornice, with two straight rows of windows in its two stories, and one little, unproportioned chimney, at the furthest end, took from the parsonage the last claim to grace and elegance. To look at that school-house, was to see what kind of an education it afforded ; an education of tasks and chastisements, of lessons to be learned by rote, and rules to be obeyed with servility. No great thought, no large affection, no generous impulse could be fostered in those board barracks. They were not built with any such view. Were they built in view of aught but Mr. Stryker's purse ? This question was none of Nellie Lee's asking. She never thought about it. She could hardly have told how Bedmin- ster parsonage looked now-a-days, for she seldom turned her eye thitherward. She preferred watching for the first and last glimpse of the new marble obelisk in the church-yard opposite, that towered conspicuously above the time-worn memorials of her grandfathers and grandmothers. 11* XXVII. tillage fmnbs, an& Ine*pttefo Quests. ' Enjoy the Spring of Love and Youth, To some good angel leave the rest ; For Time will teach thee soon the truth, There are no birds In last year's nest." H. W. LONGFELLOW. T ATE in the afternoon of one of the first days of Septem- -^ ber, Helen was returning from a solitary ride ; solitary but for Caesar, who trotted at a respectable distance behind her. She had compassed the village by a circuitous route, and entered its one long street at its northern extremity, just beyond the habitation of James Stryker, fashionable boot and shoemaker. The village and the valley below were in the shadow of the western hills, but the sun shone over them upon the glittering bosom of the distant river, and lighted up the mountains beyond the river as with a glow of fire. The play of light and shadow was exquisite ; the whole picture was beautiful and suggestive. Had Helen been of a pensive disposition, that twilight view, looking out from surrounding gloom to distant brightness, as if happiness were far off, and sorrow impending, would have made her sad : as it was, it only made her thoughtful. She no longer gave herself up to the enjoyment of her ride, but cantered slowly on through the village, with an observing eye, making mental comments VILLAGE FRIENDS, ETC. 251 on all she saw. The first thing she remarked was, that Mr. James Stryker, fashionable boot and shoemaker, had im- proved the appearance of his house, by a generous coat of white paint, not only on the front, but all around, by a new paling fence, and by a clearing out of rubbish from the little door-yard. Mr. Stryker himself, and also Mrs. Stryker, were just leaving the house with their best attire on : probably they intended a visit to their son. The tavern came next. Loud and coarse laughter issued from the corner room : and a poor ragged inebriate sat on the lowermost step of the piazza. Helen put her horse on a brisker amble, and did not draw the rein till she was beyond sight and hearing. Deacon Hayes' house and farm looked, as ever, the perfection of neatness and good management. William, who was at this moment watering the horses, and Sarah, who was milking (he cows with the assistance of some of the men and the hired girl, were worthy children of such a father : they bowed pleasantly in answer to her salutation : but she would rather have had a word of blessing from the old man, who used, at such pleasant hours of the day, to occupy the door-seat, lean- ing on his bone-handled cane, and giving a cheerful word to every passer-by. And she thought of the old Deacon, and the old pastor with whom he was so intimately associated, till she found herself in front of the Tannery. " What a pretty place," she said to herself. The mountain-ashes were already covered with red berries. Dahlias were blooming in profusion. The lemon-trees loaded with fruit, and japonicas in full flower, lined the wide walk that led up to the house. No member of the family was visible ; they were probably at evening prayer : Helen was half-minded to alight and join them but Caesar might be tired, he was growing old and 252 VILLAGE FKIKNDss, so she caute:ed on. The little brook murmured the same old song ; and only the pretty group of willows showed where the tan-pits used to be. Helen was sure that her horse shyed away from the parsonage, so involuntarily had she twitched the right rein and drawn close up to the church side of the road : but having done so, it was but following another impulse to ride round the little semicircle of poplars and pause a moment at the corner of the wall, where she could be^t see the cluster of old gray stones and the one white obelisk. The sun came streaming down from an opening in the hills and lit them up with that peculiar soft brilliancy that the slanting ray alone imparts. "Jesus Heaven," Helen whispered to herself, recalling the last scene in the uneventful life that had ended here. Slowly she pro- ceeded on her way, and had not an eye to observe any thing, till a flitting figure at the gate of Steve Ball's house caught her attention : she was sure it was Margaret Ball ; probably she was looking for her father, and did not care to be seen look- ing for him, either. The black-smithy was deserted ; the door open ; no merry ring came from the anvil, no bright sparks flew cut from the tottering chimney. Helen sighed to think where he probably was, and that his boisterous laugh had mingled, perhaps, in the shout of coarse merri- ment she had heard from the tavern bar-room : and she sigh- ed to think how nearly Mrs. Stryker's prediction had been verified. O for some kind, strong hand to hold him back from that brink of perdition ! The wish framed itself (not then in the passing, hasty thought of the moment, but after- ward in the solemn retirement of her own room), into a de- liberate and earnest prayer for the old friend of her child- hood, that God would mercifully save him from the pit of AND UNEXPECTED GUESTS. 253 drunkenness. Mr. Graves' serious bow, as she rode past Slater's store, conveyed to her a whole homily of pointless commonplaces aimed at awful truths : nevertheless, Mr. Graves' arrows were not all without barbs ; they sometimes pierced where more polished steel glanced aside. Kitty White's face appeared at her cottage window, as Helen can- tered by, and returned a gratified bow to her pleasant salute: and Helen tired of the slow gait, put her horse on the run, and was in a trice at the great gate-way. Caesar who had passed on before her, while she loitered at the church-yard (where another, too, had passed unnoticed before her), had summoned the porter's child to open it. But she did not enter. The stage-coach, announced by the rumbling of its heavy wheels and the cloud of dust that enveloped it, was already in sight, and she waited to see it. She wheeled her horse under the outstretched branches of an elm, and with her hat in her hand, and face radiant with the glow of recent exercise, she waited till the four in hand, now at their highest speed, should appear and vanish. " But who is that, smiling at her from out a basket full of blue ribbons and flowers ? Oh ! it was Cynthia Stryker. But who is that waving his hat on the further side of the coach ? could it be ?" But the stage was gone. " Caesar, did you observe that gentleman in the stage ?" " Was n't it Mr. Seymour, Miss Helen ?" " I thought so. I was not sure." " I saw him last spring, when I went with Mr. Lee to York, or I would n't know him agin. Oh ! Miss Helen, he '?/ make a good minister though !" But Helen was cantering as fast as she could and did not answer. 254 VILLAGE FRIENDS, " How strange," she thought to herself, as she hurried up stairs, " that Perry did not stop at Truro. I suppose he felt obliged to see Cynthia Stryker home. He will be back be- fore I can change my dress." Her wardrobe was simple : but, to-night, it was difficult to ascertain which was the very nicest of her white dresses : she, too, in such a hurry : Perry might come and she not be ready. The dress determined upon, it took but a minute to smooth the ringlets that even a horseback canter could not greatly disarrange. With more care, she selected a little bunch of forget-me-nots (Perry helped her to gather the roots long ago) and fastened them in the inserting neck- band of her dress, the pretty blue stars contrasted with the white neck on which they fell, as sapphires might with ala- baster. But Nellie thought only of the prettiness of the flowers, not of their setting. "Absurd," she ejaculated to herself, as she hurried down stairs, "how could Mrs. Stryker say so ! Perry and Cynthia !" She began to laugh, but the remembrance of the time when she was first amused with Mrs. Stryker's remarkable vaticination, checked her merriment now, and she left the thought half finished. Perry was not yet come. She walked down to the stile and looked as far down the road as the deepening darkness would let her. There was no appearance of the young theo- logue. The tinkle of the tea-bell came feebly floating down to her on the dew-damp air : she went back to the house, perpetually saying to herself, " I am so disappointed," " how unaccountable it is !" Tea was over, and the company, which had been weeded out during the last week of premonitory chilly weather, was gathered in the great parlors, where wood fires diffused a AND UNEXPECTED GUESTS. 255 gentle warmth, when, at last, Mr. Perry Seymour was an- nounced. Though Nellie had seen him in the stage-coach a few hours before, she was doubtful for a minute, if indeed it were he so much taller and manlier had he grown till he smiled, then she was sure. " Perry, my dear boy," exclaimed Mr. Lee, " where did you come from 'C " From the parsonage, last, sir." " The parsonage ! What pray took you there ? Because you are to be a parson, must you pass by old friends, to bring up at the parsonage T' " Not without an object, sir." " An object ! Miss Cynthia is not your object, I hope ?" Perry blushed a little, only a very little, as one pair of eyes at least could testify ; but he answered as composedly as before, " It certainly was part of my object to see Miss Cynthia safely in her brother's house." "Part of his object ! what I wonder is the other part," said Nellie to herself. Perry extricated his hand from Mr. Lee's and made the circuit of the parlors. At last he obeyed the nods and smiles with which Nellie had been inviting "him to a seat by her side. " Oh, Perry, how glad I am to see you. What has kept you so long ? I had begun to think that both my eyes and Cesar's were at fault." " How you have grown, Nellie," lie replied, evading her question. " You, too. Not grown merely, but changed. It's more than a year since you were here before. Have you had tea 2 " L'56 VILLAGE FRIENDS, " Yes." Here Mr. Lee's voice calling to him, broke off the conver- sation and started Perry from his seat. " Caesar told me," said Mr. Lee, " that he saw you and Miss Cynthia Stryker in the stage-coach; but as you did not make your appearance and verify his statement, I had con- cluded that he was mistaken. Now, please explain yourself. Why are you not in traveling dress ? And why have you tarried so long at the parsonage ?" " I am not in traveling dress, because I have exchanged dusty clothes for clean ones. I tarried so long at the par- sonage, because Mr. Stryker insisted upon it." " Curt and precise," said Mr. Lee. " If Mr. Stryker had insisted upon keeping you altogether, you would have sub- mitted to that too, I suppose ?" " Not only would, but hav e, sir." " Have ? You do not mean " " That I have consented to return to the parsonage," Perry interrupted, smiling. " That is too bad !" Mr. Lee exclaimed, and immediately disappeared from the room. " What could possess you, Perry, to accept of Mr. Stry- ker's imitation ?" Nellie asked. But before he could answer, Mr. Langdon Murray had slipped into the vacant chair by Nellie's side, and was admiring her forget-me-nots. Helen glanced up at Perry. " Do you remember when we gathered the roots ?" she asked. " Yes, indeed," he answered. But Mr. Langdon Murray broke in with some wise re- mark, about the inability of forgetting some things, and Perry crossed the room to talk to Mrs. Lee. Mr. Murray AND UNEXPECTED GUESTS. 257 was very pertinacious this evening in making himself agree- able to Helen. At other times, if not in the humor of lis- tening to him, she would have availed herself of a child's lib- erty and run out of the room. But now she wished too much to see Peiry. She could only see him. Mr. Murray would keep talking to her, and Perry was talking to every body else. At last Mr. Seymour rose to go. " Good-night, Perry," said Mr. Lee, with a peculiar smile. " You have the same room as of old. You will find your trunk there. I sent for it. Could not think of the sou of my old friend staying any where else ; not even at the par- sonage." Perry looked surprised, amused, pleased, and serious by turns. Nellie saw only the last look, and wondered what it meant. It was on her lips to say how glad she was, but the serious look checked her ; and as Perry retired from the room, she only nodded a pleasant good-night at him. So soon as he was well oft', she ran away too. " What does possess Mr. Murray to talk so much to me ? He is clever and agreeable enough, but he might find some one else to be clever to." So thinking, Nellie was making her way across the great hall to the stair-case, when she be- came aware that a tall figure was standing motionless near the front door. She turned looked advanced a step or two hesitated and then " Oh, Norton !" " Dear Nellie, is that you ? I could not make up my mind that it was you have grown so !" " When did you arrive ?" asked Nellie, keeping both arms round his neck. 258 VILLAGE FRIENDS, "Now. Just this moment; and was wondering how I could make my arrival known without creating too much of a sensation." " I'll manage it," said Nellie, releasing herself from his arms. " Come into the tea-room. I will bring mother and father. We will tell no one else till to-morrow." " And, then, rose-bud," said her brother, " please order me supper, for I am half-famished. The vessel came to anchor in New York bay at twelve o'clock this noon, and I have sped hither as fast as horses could carry me, without having eaten a morsel since breakfast." Nellie left him in the tea-room, to carry the rest of her plan into execution. The father and mother were success- ively and successfully smuggled into the tea-room ; and the hungiy traveler was supplied with a suitable quantity and quality of smoking edibles. " And now," said he, having answered the questions of his parents, as to his health, the passage, and the well-being of Robert and Theresa, whom he had last seen at Berlin, " and now, tell me, who all are here." " Charlotte and Emma, and their husbands and children, of course," Mr. Lee begun. " And oh, Norton," interrupted Nellie, " Perry Seymour came to-night." " And Mr. Murray has been here a good many days and nights," said Mr. Lee, with humorsome seriousness. " What Murray ? Langdon Murray ?" " Yes." " What does he find so attractive here ?" " Ask Nellie," was Mr. Lee's answer. AND UNEXPECTED GUESTS. 259 " Nellie ! Take care, rose-bud. Time enough to think about that, if Mr. Murray is rich and handsome." " You have not touched the surface of his great qualities," answered Nellie, laughingly. " You said Perry Seymour is here," was Norton's next question ; " does he persevere in the absurd notion of being a minister ?" " Yes, indeed he does," answered Helen, with spirit. "Well. If not over-sensible he may make a sincere minister." " You are oracular," said Nellie, ironically. " I but pronounced a simple truth." " That no really sensible man can be a sincere minister of the Gospel ?" asked Nellie. " Even so." Nellie looked her indignant answer, which she would not condescend to put into words. " Have you forgotten Mr. Poole, Norton ?" asked Mrs. Lee, with a tremulous voice. " Dear mother, I did forget your presence, and must con- fess that Mr. Poole was a sensible man ; and, I must believe, sincere. But he was so childlike, so unskilled in the world, and so little read up in the scientific discoveries and espe- cially Biblical criticism of the day, that the exception in his case should hardly affect the truthfulness of my assertion." " Mr. Poole had more sagacity, worldly knowledge and literary attainments too, than you seem to concede," re- marked Mr. Lee. " I submit," said Norton. " My remark was too sweeping. This rose-bud 'set with little willful thorns,' provoked me into a stronger assertion than was wise." 260 VILLAGE FRIENDS, ETC. " A rose-bud should never be roughly handled, if you are BO very sensitive to its thorns." Norton laughed, and asked if Miss Brown still was charged with the training of this particular flower. " Yes," answered Nellie. " How often I feel thankful to you for Miss Brown." Norton looked gratified. He was now refreshed and rested ; and concluded to show himself to the rest of the family, and have the first welcomings over. With Nellie leaning on one arm, his mother on the other, and Mr. Lee O ' ' acting as usher, he was escorted into the parlor, and took the assembled company amid a storm of exclamations and interrogations. Nellie was happy that night. It was so pleasant to have Perry Seymour and brother Norton both at Truro once more. XXVIII. pants (Hdl-nnrtrtr, f wfo, attir 'The best way to propagate Christianity is to propagate Christians.' CHARLES LAMB. OEAUTY, the new gray-hound, had never had such a -*-' race as Nellie gave him the next morning. Perry stood watching her as she came running toward the house, her cheeks rosy with health and her eye sparkling with exuber- ant spirits. " Prince has a successor to your favor, I observe," remark- ed Perry. "Yes. I call him Beauty. Mr. Murray gave him to me." Perry had no further comments to make on Beauty. " Do you know Mr. Murray ?" asked Nellie, as they went in to breakfast. " No." " You will like him. I do." " So do I," said Mr. Murray, who was standing in the door- way. Judging by his pleased look, Mr. Murray never liked himself so much as he did that instant. In the moment's detention, caused by this unexpected renconter, Nellie was left behind with Mr. Murray, who managed to occupy the chair next hers at the breakfast- 262 PLANTS WELL ROOTED, table, while Perry was seated on the other side, and the high coffee-urn was between them. Miss Brown, Norton, and Mr. and Mrs. Lee were the only other members of the family who were present. The rest kept later hours. " How is your mother, Perjy ?" asked Mr. Lee. " She is very well, sir." " And how is Mr. Sickles ?" asked Nellie, stretching her ueck to see and be seen, round the coffee-urn "He is very well, too." " You must come up stairs after breakfast, and see his birds," said Nellie. " Has Mr. Sickles intrusted you with ' his' aviary ?" in- ^ quired Mr. Murray. "Yes," Nellie answered, laughing, "if two canaries consti- tute an aviary." "What is so remarkable about these two canaries that they are worth a journey up stairs to see them ?" Mr. Mur- ray was bent on acquiring information this morning. " Mr. Sickles' canaries are not like any others," said Helen. "Are they, Perry ?" and she stretched her neck again to get a vis-a-vis. But Perry's eyes and ears were given to Mr. Lee, who was asking after Miss Van Home and his brother Albert. "Miss Van Home enjoys excellent health. Albert is in Europe," was the answer. "Albert in Europe!" exclaimed Mr. Lee. " What in the world took him to Europe?" " Legal business, I believe," answered Perry, reciprocating the smile, "that happily or unhappily has fallen into his hands. But, sir, I have even more surprising intelligence for you : I myself sail for Europe in the next steamer." "a TRIED, AND APPROVED. 263 Helen, Miss Brown, and even Mrs. Lee joined in the ex- clamation of surprise, this time ; but it was uttered in a tone that indicated pleasure and congratulation. " Yes," continued Perry : ; ' Mr. Sickles has discovered that important business, which no one but myself can transact, re- quires my immediate transportation over the ocean." " Will you visit Germany ?" inquired Mr. Norton Lee. " Mr. Sickles insists upon my doing so." " I must give you letters to some of my friends at the uni- versities." " Thank you." ;" And I will give you letters which may be of use in Eng- nd," said Mr. Lee. " If Mr. Seymour will accept of them, from a friend of Mr. Sickles, I can give him a letter or two, to friends in France, and, if he wishes them, in England too !" added Mr. Murray. While Perry's words expressed thanks, his countenance glowed with gratification. The conversation now was all of Europe. Each of the gentlemen had a word of advice. He must not hurry home. They approved of Mr. Sickles' plan, that he should spend a term at Edinburgh. Mr. Norton Lee thought that he should add to that at least one year at the German universities. Mr. Murray insisted that another year must be given to traveling. Perry, amused at the freedom with which they were taxing the good friend's generosity who was to be at the expense of this European tour, thought it was more probable that his absence would terminate in three months, than l>e prolonged to three years. As they rose from the breakfast-table, Mr. Murray claimed Nellie's attention till he could finish the account of some 264 PLANTS WELL ROOTED. European castle, or church, Nellie could not have told what ; seeming to listen, but really watching Perry's movements, she was carried along captive to the door of the oak-room. Then the story came to an end, and with an interjectional " indeed ! beautiful !" which left Mr. Murray saying to him- self, " she certainly did not hear or understand me," she turned to Perry, who had already taken his hat and seemed meditating his exit. " Perry," she said, " come up stairs and see my canaries and my herbarium." " I can not now," was the answer. " I am bound to the Parsonage. Good-morning." Nellie was sorry, and Perry, she thought, looked sorry too. " What carries him to the parsonage ?" she said to herself. But brother Norton came to the rescue. " May I see that harbariurn, rose-bud ? Canaries I am not partial to." " Yes, indeed you may, brother Norton ; and my minerals, too, and you can tell me about some that I can not make out, if you will." In the little boudoir Norton had the seat of honor, the corner of the dimity-covered couch. The herbarium was displayed on a table placed for the purpose directly in front of him. It was not an extensive collection, but showed care, taste, and more exact knowledge than he was prepared for. The cabinet also, if arranged with too much feminine regard for effect and beauty to please a scientific eye, was still a creditable exposition of the attainment of so young a miner- alogist. Norton volunteered to accompany her on a search for a rare flower, which should then be in bloom. " When shall we go ?" asked Nellie TRIED AND APPROVED. 265 " To-day, if you please." " How long do you intend to stay at Truro, brother Norton?" " Only a week, at present." " Then I will ask Miss Brown to excuse me altogether from the school-room, that I may spend all my time with you and Perry." " Perry seems to be as much a friend of yours as ever," was the only comment of her brother on this information. " Yes," was the answer. " But I seldom see him now." " Seems to me, Nellie, you have a good many pious sort of friends. Who are those Hughes you so often mentioned in your letters ?" " Do you not remember Mrs. Hughes, who used to be my Sunday-school teacher ?" ** " I remember you had a Sunday-school teacher whom you often talked about ; but as I never knew that remarkable person, I certainly do not remember her. But, rose-bud, are these just the kind of friends for you to be so very inti- mate with ?" " Why not ?" asked Nellie, with some pique. " Mr. Hughes, I think is a tanner and currier ?" "Yes." " An uneducated man then, of course, and his wife I sup- pose, however pious, an uncultivated woman." " Of course !" repeated Nellie, ironically. " And, of course, every nobleman and titled lady you met, when abroad, was highly educated and elegantly cultivated !" " Your fierce little thorns are of American growth, that is certain," replied Norton. " But you forget that I have spent 12 266 PLANTS WELL ROOTED, more time in German universities, where niauy of the great- est scholars are of plebeian rank." " We have no plebeians in America, Brother Norton ; though I am sorry to confess that there is some sort of aris- tocracy." " Well, well, Miss Philosopher, I did not mean to assert, nor controvert principles. As a serious fact, however, I much feai that tanners and curriers are much too low-minded and vulgar to be the intimate friends of my delicate rose-bud." Nellie was as red as the veriest rose-bud of the House of Lancaster, at that moment. " Brother Norton," she began, " am I not " improved, she was about to say, but stopped ere betrayed into a sell- compliment. "A pretty rofte-bud," said Norton, finishing the sentence for her. Nellie laughed, and began again. " Brother Norton, are you glad that I have bestowed so much time on the Natural Sciences ?" " Very glad." " Would you rather see me interested in botany, and min eralogy, and astronomy, and such studies, than in fussing over worsted-work, or reading novels, and talking non- sense ?" " Most certainly, you wise rose-bud." " Well ! If Cousin Hetty Hughes, and Mr. Hughes had not incited me to these studies, and given me a ta&te for them and for other good things, I should have cared and known nothing about them. But for the influence which they have exerted over me, I doubt if I should have improved even with such a teacher as Miss Brown. I sometimes think 1 TRIED AND APPROVED. 267 owe every thing to them. And now, Brother Nortcn, I shall be angry with you as long as you stay here, unless you will go with me now, right away, to see Mr. and Mrs. Hughes, and judge of them for yourself." " I will do almost any thing to escape such anger as yours must be, Nellie. But you know I am not fond of visiting especially strangers." "Oli, but you will like them." " How do you know that ?" " I am sure of it. I feel it. They are of youi kind that is, in some things. You will goT' " If you insist." " Now, right off?" "Yes." " I will tell Miss Brown, and get my bonnet," and Nellie ran away in high glee. Norton left the room at the same moment, but returned before she did, with his arms full of books, which he depos- ited on the table where the herbarium had been. Then at his leisure he examined the books already in the book-case. " How kind of you ! How beautifully bound," exclaimed Nellie, as the literary treasures on the table caught her eye, as she entered the room. She went directly to Norton to kiss him for his present, and then turned to the table to make a closer inspection of its contents. " Schiller and Gothe : but I do not read German." "You must learn it, then." " I will, if you say so. But what are these ! Oh, Buf- fon ! thank you. And here are birds, how exquisite ;" and she left the table to give her brother another kiss of grati- tude, for she now knew that the present was as costly as it 268 PLANTS WELL ROOTED, was valuable. " I knew you would bring me books, but did not expect such a splendid addition to my library. Look here, do you see this row ?" pointing to the highest shelf in the book-case. " Yes. They look rather childish and nursery-like beside these mature volumes on the lower shelves." " You gave me that row, at different times, when I was a little girl. I did not read them then, I liked story-books better. I never should have read them, perhaps, but for those ' low-minded, vulgar' friends of mine ! Come let us go. Mr. Hughes drives down to his factories at ten, and it is almost that now." As they left the room together, arm in arm, Norton re- marked that he was pleased with the selection of books in her library, except that he thought the pious element too much predominated. "Aside from religious belief, Nellie," he said, " I think what may be termed pious writings mind, I do not say religious, but pious almost as injurious to the intellect as trashy novels, or any other sentimental stuff." " What do you mean by pious as distinguished from re- ligious ?" Nellie asked. " I used the word pious to express the emotional, or senti- mental writings of religious people." " I do wish Brother Norton, you had not such a horrid prejudice to that word ' pious.' " " It is not a mere prejudice against a word, Nellie, but dis- belief of a thing." " Yet, just now you approved of religious books as distin- guished from pious ?" " I did not make my meaning clear. There are religious TRIED AND APPROVED. 269 works, treatises on religious subjects, which are profound and, however they may mislead faith, undoubtedly strengthen and invigorate the reason. To these I make no objection, in an intellectual point of view and in this sense only, would I have you understand me. With your religious opinions, dear Nellie, I shall not meddle if I can help it." Nellie made no reply. " By the by, Nellie," he resumed, " how is it that in this famous library of yours, there are no works on the Evidences of Christianity ? Such a stanch believer and advocate of its claims ought to be well read-up in this branch of religious literature." " I hardly know why, Brother Norton, but I never could get interested in any works of that character. They are either appeals to the reader's ignorance, or else long, labored arguments, where there is no need of proof, or refutation : at least where I need no convincing." " How is that, can you believe without proof?" " I do not believe more firmly for arguments ; I do not ap- preciate them. I guess I am no logician. Pa used to say, when I was a child, I never could give a reason for any thing ; and so, I think, it is with me now. I believe with- out reason." " How is that. I thought your mind was better discip- lined." " Oh, my mind ! That is another thing. I was speaking of what we believe with the heart." " You dear little rose-bud, we are as unintelligible to each other as possible. Will you not unfold your petals and let me into the heart of your meaning? You are not a philoso- pher of the inner consciousness school I hope, for that non- 270 PLANTS WELL HOOTED, sense I abominate. I am too sensible, I hope, or prosaic, they would call in ., to be captivate:! by such vagaries. " What are you talking about, Brother Norton ?" " Let us begin again," he answered, laughingly. " How can you believe without proof?" " I can't, except where there is no need of proof." " And does not Christian doctrine need proof?" "Not for me." " Why, pray, are you exempt from this necessity ?" " I hardly know. Only I can not disbelieve it, and so cer- tainly I need no arguments to make me believe it. Brother Norton, I do not want any one, by an elaborate argu- ment, to prove to me that there is such a person as you, or that you love me, or that you are worthy of my love. Do I?" "I hope not." " Well, Brother Norton. I need just as little any profound treatises to prove that there is a God, that He loves me, and that He is worthy ot my love. These I know, I feel, and no cold argument could strengthen the conviction ; it would only be winding wisps of straw around bars of iron. And so of all the great truths of Christianity. If you press me for the arguments by which I fortify myself in the belief of them, I shall answer you in the words of Pascal, ' Le coeur a ses raisons, que la raison ne connuit pas ;' or better yet, in the words of the Bible, " If any man will do His will, he shall know of the doctrine, whether it be of God." " Not so poor a logician, after all !" thought Norton. But just then they were passing the Parsonage, and Nellie ex- rlaimed, " Perhaps we may see Perry !" TRIED AND APPROVED. 271 They did see him. He was walking slowly up the long pathway, toward the house, with Miss Cynthia Stryker. "Perry does not see us; shall I call him?" asked Nor- ton. " No, please not," said Nellie, hurriedly, " I would rather not see Cynthia.'' " How this place is spoiled !" said Norton. " Yes, indeed !" " Do you like Mr. Stryker ?" Nellie deliberated before she answered. She was about to say, " Not so much as I liked Mr. Poole." But she thought this would be an evasion, and she answered according to the simple truth " No, I can not say that I do." "Why not?" " Because ; as I used to say when a child." u Is he a bad man ?" "No." " Is he a good man ?" " In that he is not bad." " Enigmatical. Have you no reasons for likes and dis- likes ?" " Brother Norton, I told you that I can not give reasons, do not have reasons. In this case I am especially destitute of them. I just do not feel any particular liking to Mr. Stryker, and that 's all !" " What kind of a man is he ?" " A man of in f ellect and of reading ; deficient in sensibility and good breeding. Too little a man of the world ; too much a man of business. You will like him, perhaps. He will talk philosophy to you nil day, and give you a thousand 272 PLANTS WELL ROOTED, severe arguments for his belief in Christianity. If he can, he will force your faith, but never woo it." "Well! You have given a pretty full exposee of your reasons, after all." By this time they had reached the Tannery. " Whose beautiful residence is this ?" asked Norton. " Mr. Hughes'," answered Nellie, with a smile. " Mr. Hughes 1 ! I thought he lived in the old tannery." "This was the old tannery." " I ; it possible ! Is Mr. Hughes rich ?" " They say so. But here is the gentleman himself," she added, in a lower tone. Mr. Hughes was just coming out of the gate (his wagon stood before it in waiting), but returned to the house with the visitors. Plain, simple, intelligent George Hughes, and pretty, sensible, sprightly Hetty Hughes, made a most favor- able impression upon Mr. Norton Lee, and from that day grew rapidly into the place in his heart, occupied by few, of particular friends. When they returned to Truro, Perry had not, as they hoped, made his appearance. It would not do to defer their excursion to the woods till a later hour. They went with- out him. Miss Brown with her little pupils, Robert and Hetty, accompanied them. They had scarcely gone a quarter of a mile, when they heard the pattering of horses' feet behind them. It was Mr. Murray and his servant man, riding at full speed. In a mo- ment he was by their side, having reined in his horse, alighted, thrown the bridle to his servant, and asked permis- sion to join them in their walk, almost before they were awaro of hi? presence. Nellie would rather he had staid TRIED AND APPROVED. 273 behind, but as he talked to Norton, and not to herself, and talked very sensibly too, she had not much reason to re- gret it. The day was fine, tlie air bracing, the conversation enter- taining, and all in the best spirits. The children were hilari- ous, and when nearly home on their return, threw out a general challenge to a race, which was immediately accepted by Mr. Norton. Nellie would have joined it, too, and prob- ably have won it, but discovered at that moment the loss of an India scarf she had loosened from her throat. She was sure it was not long gone ; she would go back and find it ; Mr. Murray insisted upon accompanying her. The scarf was found, they returned leisurely to the house, and arrived there about a half hour after the rest of the party, just in time to present themselves at the dinner-table. Mr. Murray made himself very agreeable in that half-hour walk. At the dinner-table Perry and she were so widely separ- ated that they could not talk together, but as the conversa- tion was general, she could hear him talk, and observe that he talked well. The same free, unconstrained, hearty way of talking, that always characterized him, was still his ; so easy and so like him, that Nellie did not at first detect the un- usual depth of tone in many of his sentiments, and the happy facility of expression with which they were uttered. Helen lingered in the dining-room, after the ladies had withdrawn. Perry's expected visit to Europe was the subject of conversation ; it led to the discussion of European politics, and Perry spoke little, but played the interested listener, while Mr. Lee uttered his oracles. The influence of Euro- pean hierarchies on European politics brought out Mr. Mur- ray, and Mr. Lee subsided into a listener ; for when Mr. 12* 274 PLANTS WELL ROOTED, Murray chose to converse, few men of taste or sense would venture to interrupt. But the subject soon branched off into the state of practical religion among the masses, and the ten- dency on religious habits of tin, popular opinions and prevail- ing philosophies of the day ; here Norton was the chief speaker, and the vein of skepticism in which he ever spoke on these subjects, was painfully apparent. Nellie observed with sorrow that her father listened too eagerly to all that Norton said, and when Perry sometimes ventured an answer, too courteous and full of Christian feeling to be lightly par- ried, Nellie saw that her father looked more annoyed than pleased. Mr. Murray, as the conversation assumed more and more of a religious tone, grew indifferent, and at last lighted a cigar, selected a book, and sought a seat nearer the win- dow ; but as he turned to take his seat, he discovered Nellie who all this while had been unobserved. At once his cigar, his book, and his chair by the window were discarded, and coming back to where she sat, he began talking to her. As she could no longer listen to what most interested her, she soon left the dining-room for the parlor. Mr. Murray fol- lowed her, but it was not long before she managed to slip away from him, and, with the purpose of resuming her post as a listener, returned to the dialog-room and found it de- serted. She went to the library: her father and Norton were there. " Where is Perry ?" she asked. " He has gone again to that parsonage," answered Mr. Lee, with some ill-humor, " he said he was engaged there to tea." Nellie's dissatisfied " Oh !" at this piece of information did not seem to mean much, but the echo of it kept ringing in TRIED AND APPROVED. 275 her ears for an hour or two afterward and would not let her give undivided attention to any thing she undertook. It was still early in the evening when Perry returned to Truro. There were so many to engage him in conversation, that Nellie found no chance for the one, good, old-fashioned talk, she had been longing for : she could only listen. " Mr. Seymour, did you ever meet Mr. Sidney Smith Par- sons, Pastor of St. Cruciform Church ?" asked Mrs. Gracie Darling. " I have not had that pleasure." " I must introduce you, when you return from Europe. It will be such an advantage to you. His manners are so polished. Do you know, I think ministers mingle too little with the world ?" she suggested in her blandest way. "With the gay, the fashionable world, you mean, of course ?" " Yes. How do you account for it, Mr. Seymour ? To me it is inexplicable why the best men should avoid the best society, and that when their mingling in it would be so highly beneficial. Now there is dear Mr. Parsons, it is sur- prising how his influence is enhanced by the intimacies he cultivates with the polite circles of the gay world. So often I have heard it said, ' Mr. Parsons is a sensible man. He is a gentleman !' That being ' a gentleman] Mr. Seymour, goes a great way in ministerial influence." " I think you laid it down as a fact, that ministers gen- erally do not mingle freely with the world ?" said Perry in- quiringly. "Yes." "The great mass of the best, wisest and most excellent 276 PLANTS WELL ROOTED, ministers have seemed to shrink from intimate associations with the gay and fashionable ?" " Yes ; it is a pity, but they do," was the answer. " If this be the case, Mrs. Darling, I suspect a fact so uni- versal and well established can only be accounted for on the principle of repellant forces. Something in the nature of things must forbid the commingling of the world and good ministers. I am a strong believer in the doctrine of affini- ties : chemical combinations are not more under their laws than social." " I do not see how that can be," answered Mrs. Darling. " There is sin every where and ministers must meet it. They visit freely enough among the poor and degraded and see among them more open sin if that repels them than they would ever discover in the higher circles." " If they see more," answered Perry, " do you think they feel more? The one may be visibly repulsive, the other they may know to be invisibly insidious and attractive. The one they merely look upon, the other they could not come in contact with without participating in it." " I am not sure that I understand you : but I am sure that ministers indulge very narrow prejudices in these matters. You never will, I hope, Mr. Seymour. You do not seem like a minister at all. I always thought I could tell a min- ister a mile off and divinity students are more intensely ministerial than ministers themselves ! But I should never suspect you." (The lady meant to be veiy complimentary ; why did Perry look so grave and disheartened ?) " Your trip to Europe at any rate will liberalize you. If it does not, we must try what Mr. Sidney Smith Parsons can do for you." TRIED, AND APPROVED. 277 The conversation about ministers became general, and led to the discussion of pulpit performances. Many names, dis- tinguished for eloquence, or celebrated for pulpit eccentricity, were mentioned, and many anecdotes were told. " For my part," said Norton, when the subject was about exhausted, " I have heard nearly all of the pulpit celebrities in this country and many in Europe, but I never heard one who, for sound sense, simplicity, earnestness, and propriety of diction and manner, seemed to be more exactly what a preacher ought to be, if he believes the gospel and has faith in his own office, than the old pastor of the church of Cedar- ville, our Mr. Poole !" All had listened Avith anxious interest to hear who this paragon of ministerial excellence, in the judgment of such a skeptical critic, could possibly be, and when at last the name was mentioned, it produced a sensible impression. " The old pastor of the church of Cedarville, our Mr. Poole !" who could forget him ! Which one did not recall some ten- der and affectionate word which he had spoken or some affecting incident in which he was an actor. A moment of silence ensued. Mr. Lee, especially, seemed moved ; and impelled by the recollection of the old pastor's usage, he ex- tended his hand to the large Bible that lay on the table be- side which he sat, and before a word was spoken, requested the young candidate for the ministry to offer up with the family an evening prayer. For ten months the reading of God's word and the voice of prayer, had not been heard by the assembled family of Truro. How powerfully did it revive old associations and carry back every mind and heart to the solemn thoughts which it had been the design of the gayeties of the past sum- 278 PLANTS WELL ROOTED, ETC. mer to disperse and obliterate. One short passage from God's word, and one earnest prayer, sent that worldly house- hold to thoughtful pillows that night. Perry announced his intention of leaving by the stage early in the morning, and proceeded to bid all good-by. Warm wishes were uttered for his happy voyage and return. All hearts were turned affectionately toward him that night. Even Norton hesitated to insist on the delivery of his let- ters, for, as he afterward said, "it was a pity to spoil one, who might, if ignorant of philosophy, grow up into the re- semblance of Mr. Poole." Nellie alone refused to say good-by ; promising herself the pleasure of giving him a cup of coffee in the morning. XXIX. Sunrise: tire Sprig 0f $*ntilitn Starts. "This sunny morning, Boger, chearsmy blood, An' puts a' nature in a jovial mood. How heartsome 'tis to see the rising plants ! To hear the birds chirm o'er their pleasing rants ! How halesome it 's to snuff the canler air, An' a' the sweets it bears, when void o' care ! What ails thee, Eoger, then ? what gars thee grane Tell me the cause o' thy ill-seasoned pain." ALLAN RAMSAY. TT was early twilight when Perry came down stairs, the -* next morning. The house had a forlorn, cheerless aspect, as seen at that dull, dusky, still, and chilly hour. A glim- mer of light from the tea-room gave him some assurance of breakfast, but did not prepare him for the bright vision which broke upon him, when he opened the door a wood fire blazing on the hearth ; on the table, lighted candles, a hot breakfast, and fresh flowers exquisitely selected and ar- ranged ; but brightest and loveliest of all, Nellie herself pre- siding as the genius of the place. How pleased Perry looked, how happy Nellie ! " You have taken too much trouble," he said. " Do you often rise so early ?" " I was earlier than usual this morning. But I am always up by this time. Perry ! it is so pleasant to have you here ! But come, you must eat now and we will talk afterward, or you may lose your breakfast." 280 SUNRISE: " Does not this remind you of old times," she said, after she had performed the engrossing duties of preparing his coffee and had seen that his plate was well supplied, " when we were children and used to play tea together in your mother's little room ? What nice times those were. How I wish we could see each other oftener. I have often longed for you, Perry." Perry looked too pleased . to speak : and after a moment's pause she added, " I am glad you are going to Europe, because it is for your good ; and yet I am sorry too, for it must be so long before you come to Truro again." " Perhaps not. I doubt if I stay more than three months in Europe. I do not know, though : Mr. Sickles insists upon ray spending a year there at least." " Oh, do. You will enjoy it so much." " A year may witness many changes," said Perry, thought fully. " Yes, indeed ; whether you go or stay," she answered, and both grew thoughtful together. There was another cup of coffee to be poured out, and then Nellie glanced at the clock and saw that there was no time to lose. Her bonnet and shawl were at hand, and throwing them on, she ran out, while Perry ate his last morsel, to see that Caesar had carried his baggage to the gate. In a few moments she returned again, with a basket of fruit and flowers for his mother, and one little pot in it, a new species of rose, for Mr. Sickles, " if it would not trouble Perry to carry it." The sun was rising. The trees were borne down with the dew. a burden of glittering jewels. The lower branches of THE SPRIG OF GENTILITY ODOROUS. 28! the maples and lindens fairly laid upon the ground under the heavy pressure, and the solid masses of moist foliage made the English elms look as if covered with embroidered cloths of silver, green and gold. Large branches of chry- sa&thimums, clusters of altheas, and showy dahlias were now set in brilliants. Every thing was bright and dazzlingly beautiful. " What a splendid day !" said Nellie. " Yes," answered Perry. " I ought not to feel happy, when I am going away ; but I do ! It seems as if dark clouds had broken and tears ware sparkling in the smiles of new-born joys." " Does it ?" asked Nellie, with naivete : her mind was al- most always sunshine. "Have you had any thing to trouble you lately, Perry?" she asked with earnest sym- pathy. " Yes, something, Nellie " " How good it is to hear you call me ' Nellie,' again," she interrupted. " I could not call you by any other name than ' Perry,' if I tried ; though you are a man now, and almost a minister." Perry looked gratified and laid his hand on the little one that rested on his arm. " But you were going to tell me what troubled you ?" she added, with an expression of concern. "Oh, it is nothing, at least, nothing now. The mere clouding over of a hope that it was foolish, perhaps, ever to entertain, and a fear that the blight had touched a fair flower " " Please do not talk so poetically," said Nellie, laughingly " Tell me in plain English what has been the matter." 282 s TIN RISE: " I must not tell you, Nellie. At least, not now : perhaps never." " Can you not ? I am sorry. But you say your trouble is over now ?" " It is lightened." '' And I can do nothing to make it lighter ?" " Yes. To know that you are happy and pure in heart will always make any trouble of mine lighter, Nellie." " I believe it, Perry, for it always used to be so. But here we are at the stile and I hear the stage." That stile ! They could not sit down upon it now, as in the old times, for it was wet with dew and the stage was coming at full speed. " Perry, do you remember how we sat here that day you first told me about your being a Christian and studying for the ministry ? How near together that seemed to draw us !" " Very near, Nellie !" " How puzzled I was at first to know what you meant, and then how sagely, I, a little pert girl, gave you my ad- vice !" " It was very good advice, Nellie, and has been of service, I think. Yet sometimes I doubt . Did you hear your sister say last night she would never suspect me of being a minister ? I did not know whether to take it as a rebuke or not." " Why, she meant it as a compliment, Perry, she only referred to the absence of a certain ministerial air, which is disagreeable because any professional mannerism is so. She did not mean that there was any such levity of manner as is inconsistent with the idea of a good minister !" SPRIU OF GENTILITY ODOROUS. 283 "Do you think that is all? I do not mean l air that she meant : I know what she meant. But all in truth !" " Yes ! I am sure of it, Perry !" The stage had already dashed up and stopped to receive its passengers, before these words were spoken. At the same moment Mr. Murray's voice was heard, shouting " Mr. Seymour, Mr. Seymour." Perry stood with one foot on the step and waited for an explanation of this unexpected sum- mons. Mr. Murray came up, out of breath. " Here," he said, as well as he could, " are the letters I promised you. I neglected writing them till last night and liked to have missed giving them to you after all." Nellie looked so gratified. Perry thanked him, said good-by, sprang into the stage and was whirled away. When he glanced back, Mr. Murray and Nellie stood on the stile, in earnest conversation, and Nellie's face was glowing with happiness. They were talking about Perry. Mr. Mur- ray was praising him. On his arrival in New York, Perry was surprised to find his brother Albert at home. He had been there a week. Scarcely had Perry exchanged the first words with him and his mother, when Mr. Sickles' familiar tramp was heard in the hall. The door of the little room burst open, and there was Mr. Sickles, goggles and all. " Bah ! what an odor !" he exclaimed, throwing the door wide open and advancing to the window and opening that. " My dear Mrs. Seymour you will die if you live in such an atmosphere. All the cosmetics of Paris are here !" " She will die if she live ! When did you become a Hiber- nian, sir?" 284 SUNRISE: " Why, Perry ! where did you come from ?" the goggles were thrown off. " I hope you '11 not catch cold from that window ; but since Albert, Esq., has returned, he fills the whole house with his Parisian extracts. Have you seen him yet ?" Mr. Sickles perversely kept his back to the cor- ner of the sofa where Albert reclined with an air of exquisite indifference. " He is splendidly made up ! His mustache is blue-black, and his shirts and frills and cuffs, and his coats and vests and pants, and his robes-de-chambre, in innu- merable quantities and of the most superb elegance ! He is an honor to the family ; as good as a patent of nobility ; for no one but a nobleman or a nobleman's valet ever dressed in such style. Then his handkerchiefs ! he brought his mother, generous fellow ! half-a-dozen, with her initials in cypher ; but these are nothing to his own " at this last speech, Albert made a sudden move which brought Mr. Sickles to the face about " Bless me ! Mr. Seymour you there ? I would not have praised you to your face, had I known it." " I presume not, sir, as you did not speak to my face." "No, indeed, I could not have been so bold. But I must say you are a lucky fellow. How sorry I am, I was not a lawyer. We merchants can not stand such expenses. Now, when I was as young in the counting-room, as Mr. Seymour is at the bar, I lived on four hundred dollars a year: but, I suppose he would think nothing of spending twice that sum in the single item of clothes !" " You have asked me nothing about Truro, Mr. Sickles," said Perry, who had watched for a chance to divert Mr. Sickles from his unworthy victim. " How is that fairy ?" And the whole expression of his SPRIG OF GENTILITY ODOROUS. 285 countenance changed, so that Nellie herself would have been confirmed in the opinion she often expressed, that there were two Mr. Sickles. " She is well, happy, beautiful, and good as ever," Perry answered. " And she sent to her old friend this little rose- plant, a new species, which she thinks you will fancy." " Did she ? Oh, the witch. What do you suppose, Mrs. Seymour, she expects me to send her in return ? Something handsome and that costs money, of course," and Mr. Sickles shook his head at the imaginary waste of money. " She expects nothing at all, Mr. Sickles. How can you talk so !" Miss Electa Van Home's appearance at that moment, ren- dered it unnecessary to take further notice of Mrs. Seymour's simple-hearted protest. " Well, Perry, my boy," said Mr. Sickles, after Miss Van Home's greetings were duly concluded, " have you offered yourself ? Did you enter into preliminary bonds, as I told you, you must ?" " No, sir," he answered, certainly with cheerfulness; but Miss Van Home turned upon him a look which showed that he was determined to pity him. " No, sir. I presume, I am forestalled. You know Mr. Langdon Murray ?" " Langdon Murray ! Was he at Truro ? and a beau of Nellie's ?" " Yes, sir." " Poor Perry, I am afraid it's all up with you !" " I am afraid it is, sir," said Perry, laughing gayly. " If she likes Langdon Murray," said Mr. Sickles, deliber- atively, "I can not find fault with her. He is almost wor- thy even of her ; and that 's saying more than I would of 286 SUNRISE: any one else but you, Perry. However, she is young. Don't give up heart, my boy. Mrs. Seymour," he added, turning to that lady, " I shall change my boarding-house next month, if you allow your sons to bring me any more of these presents, that are expected to be paid back again with interest." " Mr. Sickles," began Mrs. Seymour, with a deprecatory voice. But Mr. Sickles had taken up the flower-pot, with as gentle care as if it had been Nellie herself, and stalked out of the room, before she could finish the sentence. Perry fol- lowed him. Miss Van Home was dusting, for the fortieth time that day, the books and furniture, with a silk handkerchief. Each successive article she took up, she dusted with increased ve- hemence and laid down with more noise. The fire was burn- ing in her heart ; Mrs. Seymour waited, with a good-natured smile, for the explosion. "Hum !" exclaimed Miss Van Home, as she replaced the last china vase on the mantle-piece. She turned to the stand on which the Bible and Hymn- book of the Reformed Dutch Church lay. These mollified her, perhaps, for when she had carefully adjusted both, she only uttered a long-drawn sigh. "What is the matter, Electa ?" asked Mrs. Seymour. There was a repetition of the sigh. And then as she crossed the room and her eye naturally fell on the portrait of the late Captain Seymour, there was a reiteration of the first expressive " Hum !" No one asked again what was the matter, though the dis- agreeable interjection was several times repented. At last Miss Van Home came close up to Mrs. Seymour, and while SPRIG OF GENTILITY ODOROUS. 287 busy dusting the next chair, soliloquized to herself, loud enough for Mrs. Seymour to hear " Another heart's to be broken, through a girl's folly. Women's counsel 's nothing. Electa Van Home's not worth consulting. Silly girls must have their way. But retribu- tion comes. The mother suffers in her son, what she " " Electa !" The voice was so gentle, so meek, so entreat- ing. It would have melted another nature than Miss Van Home's. It only drew another " Hum !" from her and sent her out of the room. Mrs. Seymour uttered one or two sighs herself, now, as she sat there in the deepening twilight, and wiped away a tear or two that strayed down her cheek. Albert lay on the sofa, revolving his own thoughts, too self-interested to have eyes or ears for other people. " Mother," he said at last, " about an office " " You can not rent one, Albert," said his mother, quickly, " unless it is very much cheaper than the last you occupied. This unfortunate trip of yours to Europe has involved us " " Mother," interrupted Albert, " I want to ask you a ques- tion. It is very desirable that I should know what our pros- pects are." "Well ?" said Mrs. Seymour mechanically. " Mother, there 's no use of my trying to make any thing out of the law, I'm convinced of that, though it is proper for the sake of appearances, that I should have an office and seem to be in business. There's no use, either, of your try- ing to make any thing out of this boarding-house." " If you, Albert, spent less ' " Now, dear mother, don't begin that old story. I am des- perately fconomical : a young nmn in my position could not 288 SUNRISE: be more so. But, dear mother, what I want to say is, that either you, or I, must get a fortune by marrying." " / get married !" exclaimed Mrs. Seymour, in frightened amazement. " Dear mother, there 's no use of making a fuss about it, If you are in the way of getting a fortune, there 's no use of my being in a hurry about it ; but if not, why then I must be looking out for myself." " Albert, how can you talk so !" exclaimed Mrs. Seymour indignantly. " Mother, there 's no harm in talking. I only want to ask a single question, whether or no you mean to marry Mr. " " I mean to marry no one, sir," cried Mrs. Seymour, rising to leave the room, and then turning to her lazy son who remained unmoved on the sofa, *' were there no other ob- jection, never would I suffer you to supply your extravagance out of another man's hard earnings," and she left the room ; nor was she seen again that night by any of the family. From that day, Mrs. Seymour's affectionate endurance of her sou's idleness and thriftlessness, ceased, and she indignantly tolerated what it was too late to rectify. Albert, insensible himself, had no conception of the pain he had given. He quietly pursued his own reflections. He must renew his search after a rich wife. He had heard what was said of Helen Lee's beauty. The worldly sister had re- jected him, to be sure ; but this child Avould she not be captivated by the handsome tourist just returned from the Continent ? Would he not appear a very Adonis in personal charms, a Beau Brummel in attire, and a Chesterfield in ac- r-omjdishments, to her rustic tastes? Now was his time, SPRIG OF GENTILITY ODOROUS. 289 while his wardrobe was new, the dreary winter approaching, and Mr. Murray and other competitors absent. It was de- sirable too that he should be away from the city for awhile ; since he could not rent a costly office, and seem to be doing an immense business, it was best that the world either should not know of his return, or should suppose that he was enjoying relaxation after his arduous labors, or, possibly, had no need to increase his fortune. He would go to Truro. 13 XXX. dntteH gtatt* aiifc tillage HUs. " We fabricate spruce dandy noddies, With souls adapted to their bodies, To wit, so exquisite 1 }" small They might as well have none at all." CHBISTOPHER CAUSTIC. the afternoon of the day on which Perry left Truro, when Norton was closeted with his father in the library, Helen strolled down to the Tannery. Kitty White, the village dressmaker, entered the gate just before her. Not caring to encounter Kitty, nor interfere with any business she might have come upon, Nellie passed down the path by the brook, and came to the green-house : she found the door unfastened and entered. The glass door into the room which was once both kitchen and sitting-room, was open, and Nellie could hear the voices of Mrs. Hughes and Kitty White. The former was trying on a new dress, and Kitty, while she pinned and cut and criticised the dress, was re- peating with faultless fluency all the gossip of the village. Helen listened because she was amused at the tact and volu- bility which could run on with a connected story, while every other sentence or word had some reference to the new dress. Soon, however, she began to listen with another kind of interest. " Have you seen Cinthy Stryker ? There, how does thai GENTEEL BEAUX, ETC. 291 feel under the arm now ? I have ; saw her yesterday. Is that too long? Knew she would bring the fashions with her; Cinthy loves dress if she is so pious. Shall I take another fold here ? I went straight in without knocking, as I always do, but was dreadful sorry I did. There sat Cinthy at the piano-forte, and such a handsome, tall gentleman standing and bending over her and talking so earnestly, strumming all the while with one hand on the keys, a little nervous-like I think. This skirt will not hang good yet. I would have gone out, if I could. But Cinthy heard me and turned round. Oh, how she blushed, clear up to the roots of her red hair, till she was all red. I thought to my- self, you must be dreadfully in love if you admire that red face. There, that's all, Mrs. Hughes. I'll have it done next week. She introduced him, but I did n't hear what name she called him. I did n't stay loug neither. I ex- cused myself and went out into the kitchen. Knew Mrs. Stryker 'd tell me all, if there was any thing to tell. Shall I put two rows of trimming round the sleeves ?" " No ; one will be enough." " Where 's my hat ? Here it is. But I must tell you first what Mrs. Stryker said." Here Kitty, having assisted Mrs. Hughes in removing the new dress and putting on another, rolled up the new one into a bundle that she could carry conveniently through the street, and put on her own hat and shawl, without pausing in her story, took a seat and proceeded more deliberately. " When I went into the kitchen, there was Mrs. Stryker making pound-cake. ' Making pound-cake in the morning, Mrs. Stryker, and dinner for all them boys to get ?' says I. ' Yes,' she says. ' Expect tea company, I guess,' said I. She 292 GENTEEL BEAUX, nodded. ' That gentleman in the parlor ?' She nodded again. ' Who is he, Mrs. Stryker ?' I asked right out, for she seemed so busy, I was afraid I was n't going to hear But she wanted to tell, as much as I did to hear ; for she right up and told me all off. She said the gentleman, for he is a gentleman, was Mr. Seymour : that same Perry Sey- mour that used to come to Truro when a boy and he 's stay- ing at Truro now. He 's going to be a minister : and he 's got an old uncle, or some relative, or other, who 's im- mei-sely rich and 's going to leave him all his fortune. She said they were n't actually engaged, that she knew of : but seemed to think it would not be very long before they were- Dear, dear ! what a strange world ! Just to think of Cinthy Stryker's marrying a fortune, and she so homely ! Wish it was Margaret Ball, if it must be either. She 'd make a better minister's wife, too, after my way of thinking, if Cin- thy is so pious. But now, please, Mrs. Hughes, I want to see your flowers. May I ?" " Wait a minute," said Mrs. Hughes. She had seen Nellie, at her first entrance, and they had exchanged silent recog- nitions ; and now, obeying Nellie's deprecating gestures, she detained Kitty till Nellie could escape. Mrs. Hughes as- sured Kitty White that she did not believe Mr. Seymour and Miss Stryker would make a match, (hat the former had no rich uncle, but only an old friend of his mother's who was rich and very kind to Mrs. Seymour, but would, probably, leave his fortune to his own relatives ; and she begged Kitty not to repeat this foolish story, and Kitty promised that she would not. " Did you ever hear any thing so absurd as all that uon- AND VILLAGE BELLES. 293 sense about Mr. Seymour and Cynthia Stryker !" exclaimed Mrs. Hughes, when she joined Helen in the parlor. "Never!" responded the latter, indignantly. "And yet, Cousin Hetty, there is something very queer about it all, too." She told Mrs. Hughes, what Mrs. Stryker had said, a year before ; and how Perry had proposed staying at the parson- age instead of at Truro, and how much time he had spent there. " And he did," said Nellie, " seem to have something on his mind that troubled him. He would not tell me what. Poor fellow ! what if it should be but no ! it can not be. It is impossible. The more I think of it, the more sure I feel that Perry never, never could be involved in any sort of difficulty in that quarter. It would be too absurd !" Mrs. Hughes, however, after hearing Nellie's story, could not be so sure, that there was nothing in it. Strange things did happen sometimes. Perry's visit left a good impression at Truro, that did not wear off immediately ; not, at least, before Sunday, for Sun- day morning, Mrs. Lee and Nellie were delighted to find themselves accompanied to church by Mr. Lee and Norton. The Gaylords and Darlings had left for their respective homes, the day before, and Mr. Murray had suddenly taken his departure the day after Perry went. Mr. Stryker preached one of his denunciatory sermons. The village was given up to sin and iniquity, and it was all owing to the sloth of professors of religion. They needed a revival ; the fact that there was not a revival state of feeling in the church was evidence of the desperate wickedness of 294 GENTEEL BEAUX, the community, and that wickedness was evidence of the need of revival. So he preached in a constantly recurring circle, every circuit round which intensified his description of the depravity of Cedarville. " T am shocked to learn that the village is so dissolute," said Norton, as they drove away from the church. Mr. Lee smiled sardonically. The ladies took no notice of the remark. " I do not understand this revival business !" broke out, Norton, again. " Revive Thy work," is a Bible prayer, said Mi's. Lee, timidly. " Yes, yes ! But I mean this system of successive and violent religious paroxysms." " The fact of your not understanding them will never affect the other tact of their actual occurrence," answered Mr. Lee, thoughtfully. Norton was silent for a time, but returned again to the attack. " If these seasons of religious excitements must occur, then there must be also intervals of repose. Why then do those who believe in this system, during these neces- sary intervals, talk as if every thing were going wrong, as Mr. Strykerdid this morning? They wish what they can not possibly have, what is absurd in the mere statement of it, they wish special seasons of excitement, and they wish these special seasons all the time. The moment one is passed and the lull comes after the storm, they yield to discouragement and speak language that borders on despair." Norton paused. No one seemed disposed to answer him ; but he had talked himself into a talking mood and went on. "Thev should be contented with one of two things. AND VILLAGE BELLES. 295 Either with a quiet, rational, equable state of religious ani- mation, from year to year, in which, if the waves are never tossed by a tempest, neither do they subside into a perfect calm : or else, if they will have intense excitements, they should not despair when the fit passes away, as it must, and is succeeded by apathy and listlessness. Let them wait in hope, till the gale rises again. Where hurricanes prevail, they have no frequent and gentle rains : and where the showers fall often and quietly, they seldom have tempestu- ous storms." " Brother Norton, how interesting the study of physical geography is," remarked Helen, by way of diversion. " Yes," answered Norton, somewhat sullenly : crest-fallen that he could not get up an argument. " That matter of the falling of rains ;" Helen continued, " a map showing the distribution of rain over the surface of the earth gave me quite another idea of the science of geography, than the mere bounding of states and naming over capital towns !" Her purpose was effected now. Norton followed her lead and talked of Ritter, Steffens, Humboklt and others, till they reached the house. Before the carriage, from which they alighted, had driven away, a one-horse vehicle was seen approaching by the main avenue. It was a light, jaunty, city-made wagon, without a top, and having but one occupant, a young man with a for- midable mustache. " It is some visitor, for there is a large trunk on the rack," said Norton. " No visitor would come here Sunday /" said Helen, em- phatically. 296 GENTEEL BEAUX, But he was bowing now, waving his hat in the air with extraordinary gyrations, and all recognized at once, Albert Seymour, Esq. The welcome had as little cordiality in it as the genuine Traro hospitality and sincere regard for Mrs. Seymour would allow. More warmth of feeling was expressed for the poor over-driven horse, who stood panting and foam-covered and would have been foundered but for the instant and skillful care of Caesar. " You have been taking a drive, I perceive," remarked Mr. Seymour, glancing round the group, after the first salutations were over. " We have just returned from church," remarked Mr. Lee, gravely. " Ah !" exclaimed the elegant Seymour, twisting his mus- tache into its prettiest curl, " how American that sounds ! We European travellers quite forget the association of ideas, when you speak in the same breath of church and Sunday !" This speech sent Nellie into the house, lest the amusement or disgust she felt (one or other of them), might be depicted on her face. " I have spent some years in Europe," remarked Norton, carelessly, addressing his mother " and have forgotten some associations with the Sabbath, when there, but never, skeptic that I am, forgot that I had a dear mother, nor, I trust, what was due to her sentiments !" How becoming that sudden lighting up of the quiet face was ! Unfortunately so, for it proved the occasion of a pro- voking compliment, by which Mr. Seymour sought to extri- cate himself from the implied censure of Mr. Norton Lee. " So youthful and blooming a mother, sir," said Mr. Sey- AND VILLAGE BELLES. 297 mour, with a ^ourish of his tiny glove, and a bow to the lady, " never could be forgotten." Mrs. Lee's countenance expressed amazement. Norton's said plainly, " what impertinence !" and Mr. Lee carried his away from examination by an immediate retreat into the house. Mr. Seymour, however, had no idea but that he had said a very handsome thing in most approved style, and, in full feather, followed his trunk to his room to make his toilet for dinner. An elaborate toilet it was, and rather out of place at the early and plain dinner which, according to invariable rule at Truro, was arranged with a view of attending church. Mr. Seymour was somewhat chagrined to find that he was likely to spend an afternoon in solitary grandeur with him- self and his fine clothes. Mr. Lee and Norton disappeared, without asking his attendance, as soon as the dinner was despatched. Mrs. Lee, Helen, and Miss Brown went to church. He had already discovered that his Sunday advent had made an ill impression ; though he was not quite sure but that it would do him service, by establishing his reputa- tion as a dashing young man of fashion. However, to make amends for the error and escape from solitude, he would ac- company the ladies. They walked to the afternoon service. He placed himself beside Helen. She very quietly changed her position, took Miss Brown's arm, and left him to escort her mother. From that moment she never thought of him again any more than if he had not been of the party. But however oblivious Helen was to Albert Seymour, Esq. his presence in the church caused no little sensation in the Cedarville congregation. His vanity did not fail to observe how many pretty pairs of eyes looked at him, and how many " 298 GENTEEL DEAUX, ribbous fluttered when he looked at them. Dr. Lowe's pew- ful of daughters, pretty girls, all of them, were especially struck with the elegant and elaborate Seymour. And he re- turned the compliment by judging Miss Araminta Lowe the prettiest girl in the church, except Helen Lee. It was not surprising therefore that, when Helen stopped to speak to Araminta, who accidentally happened to be delayed at the church door, Mr. Seymour should by a whisper ask an in- troduction, and, as Helen herself immediately disappeared accompany Miss Araminta on her way home, and leave her there with an intimation of a speedy call to improve ac- quaintance. But for Miss Araminta Lowe, time would have hung heavily on Mr. Seymour's hands. Life at Truro was dull. Norton left in a day or two. Rupert had gone south, with the Gaylords. Mr. Lee was polite enough, and conversable at meal times and sometimes for an hour in the evening : but that was all. Mrs. Lee seldom uttered a word to any one. Miss Brown ignored his existence. And Nellie, re- garding herself as a child, did not, or would not understand his desire to make himself agreeable to her. If he spoke to her, she never laid aside tho book she chanced to be read- ing : and if he persevered in talking, she either answered in monosyllables, or would run out of the room. She would not ride with him, nor drive with him. Never once did she, or any member of the family remark upon his dress, or seem to know that his wardrobe was extraordinary, though a second large trunk had arrived by stage, the day after his own advent, and he had decorated his person in every sort of fanciful attire, from merino embroidered morning-gowns to the fullest broad-cloth dinner suit, that Parisian fashions AND VILLAGE BELLES. 299 could afford. What Perry could have meant by saying that Langdon Muiray was 'a beau of Nellie's,' he did not know; Nellie was incapable of having a beau. She was as unim- pressible as an infant. So Mr. Seymour directed his attentions to Miss Araminta. Every day the hackney horse and wagon, he had brought from New York, was in requisition, and Miss Araminta took every possible drive in the neighborhood of Cedarville, with- out ever seeing distinctly any one object but the exquisite captivating, rich Albert Seymour, Esq., who sat beside her. All this was very pleasing to Albert's vanity, and answered his purpose in the way of killing time. But it was coming to be a serious matter for Miss Araminta. Dr. Lowe was a prudent man. Mr. Lee, where his ideas of gentlemanly propriety were concerned, was a stern man. Dr. Lowe paid a stealthy visit to Mr. Lee's library and re- ceived plain answers to sundry questions about Albert Sey- mour, Esq. Mr. Lee honored Albert himself with a particu- lar interview in the same library. The idea that he might possibly be captivated by the blooming Araminta afforded the self-esteemed Adonis prodigious amusement, and he protested his innocence of any intentions upon her hand or heart : whereupon Mr. Lee, on the penalty of forfeiting his favor and friendship, prohibited another visit to the lovely Lowe. Deprived now of every other resource, save that of dress- ing himself and admiring himself, and being withal a little shame-faced before Mr. Lee, Albert Seymour, Esq., concluded to decamp from Truro, to return again when the "youngish" daughter should be old and sensible enough to admire her peerless admirer. 300 GENTEEL BEAUX, Things at Truro fell into their old train. The lonely feel- ing that ensued on the first departure of the summer guests soon passed away and a cheerful tranquillity would have per- vaded the household, but for the unusual dispiritedness of Mr. Lee. He was restless ; his ordinary cares lost their rel- ish ; he spent less time in his family and more in his li- brary, but his studies made him gloomy and morose. Helen once or twice detected a volume in his hands that she did not like the looks of. She feared that he was seeking relief for a wounded conscience in the opiates of disbelief. But with whatever other result this effort was attended, it did not produce peace of mind. At last he took to politics. For the first time in his life, he became a public speaker and a constant attendant on all political gatherings. He was much away from home now ; he was scarcely a week at Truro at a time. Sorry as they were to lose his society, they were glad that the active engagements which now em- ployed him restored him to a happier frame of mind. As for Helen, she was very busy. Besides her own studies and little Hetty's music-lessons, she had the whole charge of Robert. Most faithfully, if unconsciously, she was molding his character : but it was not without trouble and vexation. He was a constant tax upon her patience ; so many were the faults to correct and so many the virtues to coax into existence or activity ; besides the revising of letters to his parents, the telling of stories on winter evenings, the rendering of assistance in difficult lessons, or, just as toilsome when not in the humor, in devising and carrying out schemes of amusement. But Robert did love Aunt Nellie, was as good as he could be, and in his quiet way, for he was never a noisy boy, added much to the good cheer of th< AND VILLAGE BELLES. 301 household. As for little Hetty, she was no trouble at all, only a pleasure. There was no great responsibility in her case, for she had a mother : and she was at Truro only dur- ing school hours, except in stormy weather, when she would stay sometimes for days together. Helen was glad of these visits, not only because she loved Hetty, but because Robert, at such times, made fewer demands upon her time and ex- ertions. Hetty resembled her mother in appearance, save a dash of her father's sobriety. XXXI. giamonfc trn* Jiamonfc. "When the two goats met on the bridge which was too narrow to allow them either to pass each other or to return, the goat which lay down that the other might walk over him was a finer gentleman than Lord Chesterfield." RICIIABD CECIL. 1/TR. AMOS GRAVES was at last advanced to a partner- -^-*- ship in the one store of Cedarville. He was no longer 'young' Mr. Graves; his youth, which many years of clerk- ship had prolonged, was swallowed up instantaneously in the vortex of honor, when the new and brilliant sign-board, painted in blue letters on a white ground with a green bor- der, emblazoned the firm of SLATER & GRAVES. Indeed, after this event, some even ventured to speak of him as old Graves. The firm of Slater e lamb-like in any thing 1 . Helen left the room and returned soon without bonnet or shawl. She had been angry and felt that. some such ex- pression of her regard to his wishes was necessary, to show that there was no unkindness in her anger. Rupert was glad. He had not magnanimity enough to bid her go as she wished. It was easier to keep down his temper, than to act unselfishly. But now that she staid, there was difficulty in finding any thing to read. Sunday reading was not to Rupert's tajste. Helen would yield to no other selection. He nearly lost his temper again and came near swearing at her obstinacy. The life of John Newton proved, at last, suf- ficiently attractive to him and edifying to her. It was seldom and only under strong provocation that Helen so impetuously asserted her rights. It was not neces- sary. Rupert confessed her supremacy and rather coaxed than commanded her complaisance. He found that he could break himself of profanity and could conquer his tem- per as many another man has found, when it has been for his interest to do so or when inspired with fear by a strong- er will than his own. However like a simpleton he might rave at others, lie swallowed his wrath when Helen's eye met his, or her spirited voice rebuked his folly. That he yielded to her power, was not so strange, perhaps, gs that be coveted its exercise. Many might have overawed him, as she did ; but they would have rendered their society dis- tasteful, and their authority, odious to him. Not so with Helen. The more he came under her influence, the more willing he was to submit to it. This was owing to no better cause than his arrant selfishness. She was skillful and 328 A SPECIMEN OF willing, and she was entertaining, whether she talked, or sung, or read, and she was always*oyous-hearted, her smile was a sunbeam and her mirth was infectious : Rupert could not afford to dispense with her services. If Helen could have talked upon what subjects she chose, or read what books she pleased, the many hours spent in that sick room might have been agreeable and profitable. But she had to consult the taste of a man who had chosen to demean himself to the turf. As for reading, it was chiefly confined to sporting journals and the " Spirit of the Times." Punch was about the most delectable of the papers he would tolerate. Sometimes a novel was slipped in, but seldom one of her selection. " Are not you tired of this ?" she exclaimed one day, paus- ing in the midst of a popular novel. " Tired. No, are you I" " Yes, in some sort." " It 's entertaining ?" " Yes." "Amusing?" " Very." " Well written ?" " Exceedingly well : and the characters are drawn to life. But it is so intensely worldly and unchristian." " Humph ! That 's because it 's truthful." " It 's not truthful," Nellie rejoined, with spirit. " That is, it is not a truthful representation of society as it exists in our age." " How 's that ? You just said that the characters were drawn to the life." " So they are. But they are all of one description. They THE HITMAN BRAMBLE. 329 are all selfish at heart, formal and superficial in religion and fanatically worldly." " Fanatically worldly ! What an expression ! But after all your own language is a pretty truthful description of society," " Of society within very narrow limits it may be : but not of society within the range that this book covers. There are Christians, true, faithful, earnest Christians, in the world, and many of them, too. But to read this book, you would never suppose so. It might have been written to suit the times of the heathen emperors, or the dissolute court of Louis XV. There 's no Christianity in it." " Pooh, child ! You Ve not come out yet. Wait till you've seen the world before you judge how much Christi- anity there is in it." " I have seen my mother and my mother's friends. Truro has had enough visitors whose portraits are in this book. But never yet has it failed to be adorned by some proof that there is a living Christianity. As for the writer of this book, he must have been most singularly unfortunate in his imme- diate circle of intimate friends. His book is an undesigned libel on his mother, his home, his relatives and acquaintance, if there be but one Christian spirit among them. He never knew a Christian, a real Christian ; he has never seen, which is hardly possible, or has seen afar off, without appreciating the loveliness, or comprehending the power of the Christian spirit." Helen's eye sparkled and her face shone with earnestness, as she vindicated the Christian character of the age. To her truthful and just mind, the utter ignoring of spiritual Chris- tianity, in books that pretend to be accurate portraitures of society as it is, was most offensive. 380 ABPECIMENOF " What a spirit you have got !" said Rupert, playing with her words, and looking at her admiringly. " I believe your temper might be as violent as mine, if it did not take another turn," he added, chuckling. Helen smiled. " Yes, Rupert. I remember when there was a chance of my growing up a virago." " How did you miss it ?" "A little English daisy had something to do with it. A very kind teacher, not Miss Brown, had more. And a bet- ter, wiser, greater Friend, I hope, had yet more." " You talk riddles." " I hopo you '11 learn to solve them. But now, since this book must be finished, let us go on." Rupert was not averse. About three weeks after the accident, Helen was standing ,by the window in the oak-room, watching the snow-storm and waiting for the summons to dinner. Some object, far down the avenue, barely visible through the clouded air and between the trees, attracted her attention. Slowly it ap- proached. It was a vehicle of some sort a sleigh yes, now she hoard the bells and saw the horses, weary and wet, trudging along through the unbroken snow-drifts. It drew up before the door. Who 's that, smothered in robes, on the back seat ? He is bowing, as well as his cumbersome muf- flers will let him. It's Mr. Murray. Helen was on the piazza in a minute as indifferent to the sweeping wind as if it were the breath of summer, and to the thick snow-flakes, as if they were adapted only for ornament and not for damage. " Oh, Mr. Murray ! I am so glad to see you !" Mr. Murray wished she were not so glad, or were less frank to confess it. THE HUMAN BRAMBLE. 381 " What has brought you here ? No bad news ?" she added, as the possibility was suggested by the slight cloud, that crossed his face, so smiling a moment before. " No, no," answered Mr. Murray, extricating himself at last from the robes and jumping up the steps to grasp her extended hand ; " only the pleasure of seeing you, and of being of use in taking care of your brother, if I can. But please, Miss Helen, come in out of the storm. Such expo- sure in New York would certainly result in consumption." " Only in consumption of coals here, sir, not of colds," answered Nellie, with her musical laugh. She was always laughing. Nellie was glad to see Mr. Murray. They had grown into very fast and firm friends. He was a friend worth having ; sensible, intelligent, agreeable, and large-hearted,' a nobleman in all but the title. He staid a week this time ; and besides the pleasant talks in the house, and sleigh rides out of the house, they had together, he proved an acceptable compan- ion to Rupert, and enabled Nellie to enjoy more liberty and amuse herself in her own fashion. She was sorry when Mr. Murray left, and said so, so plainly that Mr. Murray was sorry to hear it. He came once again before the winter was over. Except- ing these two visits, life at Truro was monotonous enough. Mr. Lee was seldom at home. Norton was at Boston, edit- ing a scientific journal. He wrote often, and his lotters were less and less seasoned with skeptical innuendoes, and some- times were slightly tinctured with a religious sentiment that was not displeasing. Except an occasional drive of all the family in the large eleigh, a bout at snow-balling with Robert and Hetty, and 332 THE HUMAN' BRAMBLE. rarely, when there was no snow, a ride on horse-back with Robert for an escort (Caesar was too old now and rheumatic), the winter passed with no other entertainment than could be found in doors, and for Nellie, with few other changes than Rupert's sick-room could afford. XXXIII. nd "Hech, lass! how can ye lo'e that rattle-skull f A very deil, that ay maun ha'e his will : We '11 soon hear tell, what a poor fechting life You twa will lead, sae soon 's ye 're man an' wife." ALLAN RAMSAY. PERRY SEYMOUR returned from Europe the ensuing spring. He had remained abroad only half the time his friends wished and urged, but far longer than he himself intended. He came to Truro. He was improved in appear- ance,- and was cheerful in spirits. Nellie wondered whether the mysterious cloud had ever withdrawn from the horizon of his happiness. She had no chance to ask him. By some fatality Cynthia Stryker was at Bedminster par- sonage, spending her vacation. Perry arrived in the morn- ing, and after the late dinner, as soon as he politely could, he withdrew to pay his respects at the parsonage. He did not return to tea. Could it be that love for Cynthia and not friendship for Nellie had attracted him to Cedarville ? Helen herself asked the question, and scouted it as soon as asked. She felt uneasy and unhappy, nevertheless. 334 THE THISTLE OU1ROOTED: u I do hope," she said to Mrs. Hughes the next day, ' t/iat Perry will not be entrapped into any unsuitable mat h I can not yet believe it possible that he is a victim I w ,1.1 not speak of it ! I respect him too much." " Cynthia Stryker might be worse for a minister's wife," Mrs. Hughes quietly interposed. " She 's well enough in her way. But think of Perry's fancying her ! It 's too unsuitable ! Why does not Cynthia marry Mr. Graves ? That would be capital." "Perhaps Mr. Graves would not let her," said Mrs. Hughes. " But I see you do not know the news. Mr. Graves has wooed and won a wife." " Whom ?" " Guess." " Some one in the village ?" "Yes." . " I am sure I can not tell, unless it is Cynthia." " No, indeed. It is an old friend of yours Sarah Hayes." " How could Sarah fancy him ?" " You have not seen much of Mr. Graves lately. He is improved. Sarah has done it, I guess. Even Steve Ball and he are friends, now-a-days. Steve is reconciled to him for no other reason in the world, I believe, than because Mr. Graves begins to appreciate and venerate our dear old pastor Mr. Poole. He thinks now that there may be electricity without thunder, and good done without noise." " Mr. Graves is to be married to Sarah Hayes ?" Helen repeated reflectively, giving no attention to what Mrs. Hughes had just said. " That is the reason he has built himself a house." BRAMBLH AND PASSION-FLOWER. 835 " Yes, to be sure. Who did you suppose was to live in it?" " I thought he might have a mother or sister or some old body to keep house for him." Near Slater & Graves' store, a year previous, had Mr. Graves laid the foundation of a dwelling-house. Slowly and at intervals, as new erections in the country are apt, the building had progressed and hardly was well closed in be- fore the winter poured down its rains and heaped up its snows on the shining new shingles of its roof. Through the cold months the sound of hammering had issued from within, and the smoke of fires to dry the plaster had curled up from its two brick chimneys. Paint and Venetian window-blinds finished up its outside appearance, in the spring, and gave it a habitable air. Mr. and Mrs. Hughes had lent their in- valuable aid in the planting of trees and shrubbery (not a dwelling in the village, except the parsonage and tavern, but had caught the mania for floral embellishment since the Hughes had come to live in the Tannery). Mr. Graves' residence at last was complete, and invited occupants, nor in- vited long. On the very eve of summer, that is the last day of spring, Mr. Amos Graves and Miss Sarah Hayes were united in marriage by the Rev. James Stryker. How little Mr. Graves thought, long years ago, that the red-haired Sunday-school scholar who st?red at him from lashless eyes, and skulked away from him into the cow-shed, would pronounce the words that would make him the happiest man in the world. Such is this topsy-turvy world. We know not, to-day, who will be at the head and who at the foot to- morrow. 336 THE THISTLE OUTROOTEDI The wedding was quiet, sedate and very respectable. Mr. and Mrs. Lee and Nellie, Mr. and Mrs. Hughes, Mr. and Mrs. Slater and all the Lowes were there to dignify it, besides every one else in the village that was any one. That marriage ceremony was the last pastoral act of the Rev. James Stryker in the village of Cedarville. Dissatisfaction had been brewing for some time in the Cedarville church. The old people, with the long ministry of their old pastor fresh in memory, had never liked the ways of the new minister. The young people tired of the man himself. The school had gradually absorbed, not only Mr. Stryker's time, but his enthusiasm. His former vehemence were better than his present apathy. People be- gan to talk about it. The talk began on the outer edges of society, as it were. A word spoken in a corner, then a whisper in the store, then a hint at the church door : then a little discussion at a quilting to which Mrs. Stryker was ac- cidentally not invited : till at last words, whispers, hints and discussion grew into a general buzz, and the matter was talked over freely, every where and by every one. Even at the tavern it was brought on the carpet saving that the bar-room floor was sanded. Steve Ball boasted how he used to go to church, and hosv he 'd like to go again, but he were n't going as long as that man was pastor. Tim Whit- taker too. expressed a sort of penitent wish to be decent once more, as he used to be, and shut up bar and go to church Sundays, if they had a parson that would n't point his finger at him, and hold him up to scorn all the time, when he were n't worse nor the rest of 'em, and when he was in the pew and could n't get out of it. Amid all this ferment. Mr. Amos Graves, onco so artivo BRAMBLE AND PASSION-FLOWER. 337 and officious, was unaccountably inert and apparently un- conscious of what was going on. Opportunely tlie Rev. James Stryker received a call to the Presidency not of the United States but of a college. He accepted. His farewell sermon was preached the Sun- day before Mr. Graves was married ; and just as one house in the village was newly occupied, the parsonage was shut up : a dreary, desolate, shabby-looking place, with no grass or shrubbery to enliven it, and no trees to hide the staring nakedness of the school-house which remaind a monument of Mr. Stryker's architectural taste. The first week in June, Truro opened its hospitable door to the first guests of the summer. With the roses, the very earliest of them, came Mr. Murray, always welcome. Rupert was limping about on crutches, emancipated from his room, but still a prisoner within the limits of his own powers of locomotion, interdicted all violent exercise, even so much as the motion of a carnage. For him, who loved a horse's back, this was a hardship. But it was beneficial. Driven to the parlor for amusement, he was in the way of some refining influences which he had heretofore avoided " Mr. Rupert is getting quite civilsised, Miss Helen," said his man, Thomas, one day. " How so, Thomas ?" asked Helen for the sake of en- couraging him to proceed, for he evidently had something to communicate. Having on occasions shielded him from the passionate outbursts of Rupert's violent temper, Thomas had learned to regard her as his particular friend and had grown confidential in all matters that pertained to his master. 16 338 THE THISTLE OUTROOTBD. "Well, Miss Helen," he replied, deliberately, and pausing to con over the hardest words he could drag in, for he saw he had leave to talk. " Mr. Rupert is grown agreeable and in a general way eoniplacent. He is indeed quite tractitable and domesticated. It 's my opinion, Miss Helen, to the best of my judgment, that some-ut more than or' nary has inci- dentally affected Mr. Rupert's comportment." Helen saw that she was expected to ask what that might be. " In my opinion, to the best of my judgment, Miss Helen," he answered, looking very wise, " it 's love." "Love!" " Yes, miss, I Ve carefully inspected into this case, and am sure that Mr. Rupert is under the influence of them tender sentiments which love uispirates." " Why, Thomas, whom in the world is he in love with ?" " With Miss Pauline, Miss Helen : and she, miss, entirely returns the the " "How do you know that?" asked Helen, not waiting till he could select a delectable word from his extensive vocabulary. " P'raps should I infonn you, you 'd only laugh more." Helen's merry laugh had responded to all Thomas had said. . "No matter for my laughing, Thomas," she said, "let's have your reasons." " Well, miss, p'rhaps they '11 not be commendable to you ; but I know that a dog has more natur' about 'm, nor any one. It beats all how much natur' a dog has ; and when a dog affectionizes a young lady, as Lion does Miss Pauline, BRAMBLE AND PASSION-FLOWER. 339 it's just as certain as fortuitous events can be, that that young lady agitates warm sentiments to that dog's master." Nellie's laugh rung out now with uncontrolled merriment, and she ran away from Thomas that she might enjoy it to the full. But her eyes were opened to what she had never suspected, but was indeed true. Miss Pauline Delane, a young Louisianian, of French de- scent, full of life and gayety, with a sprightliness of mind and manners that gave animation to a rather plain face, had come to Truro in the train of Charlotte Gaylord, and was captivated with Rupert Lee's good looks. With all his knowledge of men and horses, he had none of women, and fell an easy victim to the fascinations of the charmer. She suited him. She was rich. Rupert was in love ; at least anxious to secure love, and made gentle by the seeking it. This turn in affairs was fortunate for Nellie. It relieved her of the necessity of entertaining Pauline, who, as the only young lady visitor, would have fallen especially to her lot ; and it saved her from the wearisome effort to find or make amusement for Rupert. From this time she gave up the special charge she had over him. But Rupert and she knew each other now, and never could be indifferent to each other as of old ; howbeit, he could never appreciate her or " her like," as Thomas remarked. XXXIV. je Jte-tm anfo I ^0rn-bnslr " If it prove so, then loving goes by hap* : Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps." SHAKSPEARB. DERRY SEYMOUR Lad promised his friends at Truro, and -*- his friend the Rev. James Stryker, that he would preach his second sermon after licensure (the first he owed to the church of his mother's and his own membership), in the Cedarville pulpit. The promise was fulfilled on the first Sunday of June : the very first Sunday that succeeded Mr. Stryker's demission of the pastoral office. Perry, with his free, frank, and sociable ways, had made himself acquainted with and a favorite of the villagers, in his boyhood. All came now to hear him. The tavern once more was closed. Tim Whittaker, Steve Ball and their crew, went to church as in old time, but with an air of self- consciousness and sheepishness, as if unused to the thing and suspicious of the comments of their neighbors. The sermons which the Cedarville congregation heard that day, were of the kind which George Herbert commends in the Country Parson : " The character of his sermon is holi- ness ; he is not witty, or learned, or eloquent, but holy." They were simple and devout in matter and manner. They were impressive and effective. They afforded no indi- THE ROSE-TREE. 341 cations of more than ordinary talent in the preacher, but they showed more than ordinary piety. The hearer felt a pleasure in listening, that could not easily be traced to its cause ; nor could he tell why it was that his eyes moistened with tears, or his heart throbbed with affecting emotions. As for Nellie, she for the first time in her life (she was not given to tears) cried in church. What made her cry, when there was nothing to cry for, she did not understand, but she could not help it. Yet when she left the church, and heard every one commending the young minister, not in set and customary phrases, but with genuine warmth and affection- ate sincerity, she could hardly help laughing aloud for joy, and her face shone as brightly as ever the rippling waters do in the dancing sun-light. " I did like your sermon, Mr. Seymour," exclaimed little Hetty Hughes, at the church-door, her face beaming with childish simplicity and frankness. She had seldom probably heard a sermon that she could like, for the lack of compre- hension. Perry returned her smile with one as frank and heartsome, and gave her a kiss in the bargain. Helen ling- ered till he passed on ; and then she kissed Hetty too ; and then she found herself crying again. What was the matter with her this morning ? She took the shortest way to Truro across the fields, lest some one should remark the traces of tears on her face, and as she went, she found herself repeat- ing and applying to the young preacher, as she had often done to dear Mr. Poole, an odd stanza from a Lay of the Kirk and Covenant. " And yet again so simply clear The Gospel message thou could'st speak, That childhood's heart and childhood's ear, Gave heed in comprehension meek ; 842 THE ROSK-TREE A.nd many a soul loug dead in sin Felt stirrings of new life within ! And learned to count all gain a loss That stood between it and the cross." The next day Perry was waiter! upon by Mr. Graves and Mr. Hughes, to request him, in behalf of the Session, to supply their pulpit during the summer. This was earnestly seconded by all at Truro. Mr. Lee was careful to impress upon him that, if he accepted, Truro must be his home. He promised to remain that week, preach the next Sunday, and then give a decided answer. He must think about it, he said, and consult his friends. The rest of that day he spent in his own room, ostensibly for the purpose of writing letters. In reality, he spent more time in thinking than writing, with many an earnest and importunate appeal for Divine guidance. That which embarrassed his decision could be uttered to none but to the Heavenly Father. He decided to stay. Helen was running up stairs, after dinner, and Caesar was coming down with his hand full of letters that were to go to the post-office. Accidentally her fan struck the letters, and scattered them over the stairs. She stooped down to help Caesar to pick them up, and save his old back. " How many were there, Caesar ?" " Don' know, Miss Nellie. Mr. Seymour gave me most, he gave me four ; and there were one, two, three, four I guess six others." " Perry gave you four. Well, here 's one of the four," as she recognized the handwriting, and read a name to which D.D. was attached. Beside it lay another, in the same hand- writing, addressed to Mrs. Seymour ; and another to Mr AND THORN -BUSH AFFECTIONATE. 348 Sickles ; and another, the longest of all, for it was more bulky than any in the whole handful that Caesar carried, to Miss Cynthia Siryker! Helen's hea.it sickened. "Here, Caesar, take them, quick !" and off she ran, in no amiable frame of mind. " So, then. Cynthia Stryker must be con- sulted in reference to this request of Cedarville church !" " A letter for you, miss," said one of the servants, about a week afterward. Helen read the superscription. It was a mistake. The letter was addressed to the Rev. Perry Sey- mour, in a feminine hand, and post-marked from the town which was now isidellibly stamped upon her memory as the place of Cynthia Stryker's residence. She threw the missive down on the table with repugnance, and went in search of the servant to rectify the mistake. Perry met her at the door, and handed her the letter she sought. " Where is mine ?" he asked. She pointed to the table ; and, hardly aware of her own purpose, watched to see what reception it would meet with. Perry took it up, read the address, and smiled (she thought) a smile of pleasure. From that day Helen sedulously avoided, with a feeling of horror, examining the address of any of his letters ; and as they were numerous, because of the hosN of friends he always had, she did not know but that he and Cynthia wrote to each other by every alternate mail. At least she was sure that there was cause for her worst fears. There was something between them. Helen could not forgive Perry for fancying Cynthia Stryker. It lowered him in her esteem. Neither could she forget it. She tried in vain not to think about it. "Why should I care ?" she would say to herself; "it is nothing to 344 THE ROSE-TREK me, save as I desire his happiness ; and if he is happy, I do not know why I should vex myself about it !" Nellie did not know every tiling. Insensibly her feelings modified her manner toward Perry. Cynthia was ever between her and him as a separating me- dium. Free, cordial, and simply affectionate once, she grew now reserved and ceremonious, just as she would have been had Miss Stryker been visibly present, as she was invisibly, as a third party at their interviews. It Avas " Mr. Seymour," inste.id of " Perry," and he fell back on " Miss Lee," in place of the endeared diminutive " Nellie." Only once and a while the ice melted between them, and they found them- selves talking in the old familiar way. Sometimes, too, when Perry conversed with others, and his fresh and vigorous thoughts were uttered with a fluent and unstudied eloquence that few conversationalists attain, all remembrance of Cynthia faded from her mind. In church she was never troubled with that ugly recollection. There Perry was indeed himself, and commanded all atten- tion to himself and his theme. After such seasons, the question would recur with redoubled force : " How can it be ? so good, sensible, and gifted how could he be caught by that weak, uninteresting, and unrefined girl ?" She could only palliate it by the surmise that Cynthia's reputation for extraordinary piety had attracted Perry, who, as other good men have done, fallaciously judged piety alone essential to a minister's wife. " Poor Perry !" she would say, " may he never discover his mistake !" Another thing puzzled her : Why was Perry so incom- municative ? Why did the name of Cynthia never escape his lips, in the most confidential moments ? This she inter- AND THORN -BUSH AFFECTIONATE. 845 preted as an evidence of diminished regard for herself. He did not feel toward her as in old times. Thus the breach widened between them, and rendered her ever more distant, and him increasingly formal. Of all at Truro, Mr. Langdon Murray was Nellie's most esteemed friend. But he did not have her all to himself this summer. She was now a young lady ; not less a child, nor more a woman, than she was the last summer, but recog- nized as one that was " out," a full-dressed lady, arrayed in the height of the fashion by Emma Darling's sisterly care (so far, at least, as Helen's simpler taste would allow), and entitled to her place in all schemes of entertainment, and the consideration of her opinion in all matters of family ar- rangement. Beautiful exceedingly, sprightly and rich, she was, of necessity, an object of universal admiration, and the victim of particular attentions. The circle at Truro was select. Helen attracted the best. Mr. Murray's heart often fluttered when he saw how Helen was attended. But still he could say to himself that he was preferred to all. The summer ;it Truro was spent in more agreeable and less gay and frivolous amusements than preceding summer? had been. Helen gave a tone to the home-circle it hac 1 never had before ; and Mr. Seymour's presence in the familj was felt for good. There were prayers now, morning and evening ; Mr. Lee was always present at these devotional services, and even Rupert was sometimes attracted, if not by serious thoughts, then by the presence of Pauline Delane. On Sundays, the Truro pews were always crowded. But pleasant summers must come to an ond ; so did this. It ended with a pleasant event, the acceptance of a call to the pastor- ship of the Cedarville church by the Rev. Perry Seymour, 15*' 346 THE R 8 E - T li E K " Kitty While has just left here," said Mrs. Hughes to Helen, when the hitler called to see her one day. " Well ?" Helen responded, iuqui; iiigly, surprised that Mrs, Hughes should communicate so trivial a fact. " She had just come from Mrs. Stryker's," Mrs. Hughes continued ; " she is to make a new silk dress for the olJ lady to wear at Cynthia's wedding." " Iudee,i !" said Helen, peevishly. " Mrs. Stryker told her Cynthia was to be married next month to a youug minister, who has received and accepted a call to a village church." " Does Kitty know," Helen asked, " that Mr. Seymour in- tends to accept the call here, and is to be ordained next month ?" " No." " I am glad of that, for she will not spread the report through the village that Cynthia is to marry Mr. Seymour. He must wish to keep it a secret, for he has said nothing about it at Truio." " How strange !" Mrs. Hughes exclaimed. " Are you sure he has not told your father ?" " It has been in confidence, if he has. Does not Kitty suspect Mr. Seymour ?" " Yes ; she has some suspicions, for she remembers those old visits to the parsonage, and Bill Jenkins, the clerk, has let it out that lette! s have passed through the mail between Mr. Seymour and Cynthia. But Kitty likes him so much and Cynthia so little, that she won't believe it. Mrs. Stryker, too, mystified her by saying that she could not recall the name of the minister Cynthia was to marry. Kitty thinks the old lady would not have told her part, unless willing to tell all." AND THORN-BUSH AFFKCTIONATE. 34? " That confirms the fact that they wish to keep it a secret," said Helen. " As if she could not remember the name of the man her own daughter was to marry ! How absurd." " It seems so : but not less absurd than their keeping it so secret," said Mrs. Hughes. " It is the only thing about Mr. Seymour, except his marrying her at all, that I do not like." There was a moment's silence. Helen was the first to speak. " We can not have every thing our way. I am thankful, for my part, that we are to have such a pastor ; and for his sake, I will try to like his wife." A conclusion in which Mrs. Hughes heartily joined : and they talked each other into a degree of amiability toward Cynthia Stryker which neither had felt since her name was first coupled with Perry Seymour's. Yet Helen had a sober expression on her face when she rose to depart. Mrs. Hughes looked after her wistfully ; and did not return, on parting with her at the door, to the parlor, but turned her steps thoughtfully to the green-house, and stood for a long time, hardly knowing that she did so, looking at the flowers on the japonica-tree : and then she went up stairs, and prayed that grace might be given where God best knew what grace was needed. The ordination services were solemn and interesting. With open hearts the Cedarville people received their young pastor. On the afternoon of the same day, Perry and Helen sat together on the piazza at Truro. Fully and freely he con- fided to her his fears, hopes, desires, and determinations as a 348 THK KO SE-'i 'RE 1 minister of Christ, It was a pleasant conversation ; such an one as they had not had in a long timc\ There had been a brief pause, when Perry remarked, casually, " I shall leave you for a few days. I am going away to- morrow." Helen's heart leaped to her throat, " He is going to tell me," she thought. To hide the expression of her own face and avoid the necessity of looking at his, she caught up a newspaper, which lay open on the settee beside her, and be- gan to read it. But what was it she saw ? Her eye was riveted to one paragraph. She tried to speak; but her voice, beyond her control, issued an incoherent scream. "Miss Lee! Helen! Nellie dear, what is the matter?" asked Perry in alarm. But she was faint now faint with hope, fear, surprise, she knew not what She held the paper to him, pointing with her finger. He read aloud, " Married, on the 3d inst., by the Rev. James Stryker, D.D., the Rev. Simon Stalker to Cynthia, daughter of Mr. James Stryker, Senior, of Cedarville, N. Y." Perry read it very deliberately, and then looking wonder- ingly at Helen, asked, " What in the world is there in that announcement, to ex- cite you so ?" She did not answer. She only fixed upon him a scrutin- izing gaze. He was entirely calm and unmoved, save for astonishment and evident concern for her. " Nellie, dear Nellie, what is the matter with you ? Are you insane ?" he asked, with increasing distress and per- plexity. AND THOHN-BU8H AFFECTIONATE. 349 Still she did not answer. She only looked less steadfastly at him, and drew a long breath. " Nellie," and his voice lowered, as a possible suspicion crossed his mind, " did you ever know this Mr. Stalker ?" "No." " Then please tell me why this unimportant item of news should agitate you ?" He had thrown his arm around her to support her, she was so pale. She leaned upon him and burst into tears. " Oh, Perry, I thought T thought " " What ?" he asked, encouragingly. " That you were engaged to Aer," she whispered. Perry Seymour could hardly believe his ears. He laughed and he scolded, he was amused and provoked, by turns. He drew out of Nellie all the circumstantial details which had induced her belief. He explained them, one by one ; and they explained some things to himself which he had never understood. XXXV .an tie " For scarce my life with fancy played, Before I dreamed that pleasant dream Still hither thither idly swayed, Like those long mosses in the stream." ALFRED TEXXTSOS. rPHE student, at night, solitary in his room, how fondly * and forlornly his heart yearns for home. Not the wild, rollicking college-boy ! He has his pleasures, exhilarating and obliviating. He may at times suffer a twinge of home- sickness : but it is only a fitful mood. Do not believe the letters, good credulous mothers read over and over again. They are forgotten as soon as written. He is happier at college than at home, a hundredfold. He will pester you to the extent of endurance before the next vacation is over, for the mere want of something to do ; and you will be glad, and he, too, when he goes back to college again. The good boy, who goes to college, or the theological seminary, to study and does study ; who spends the whole day and even- ing too, in study, save a demure walk by way of exercise, or a sedate visit to a class-mate by way of keeping up acquaint- ance look in upon him at nights and behold a victim of chronic heart-home-disease. The evening wears away while he pores over his lessons. Perhaps a knock at the door has A BLIGHT OK THE ROSE-TREE. 351 announced a fellow-boarder. He came to borrow a book, and immediately retired, leaving the room lonelier for bis brief intrusion. Or lie was a good young man who came on pur- pose to have some profitable conversation on the subject of personal religion, wbich resulted in making them both dis- satisfied, discouraged and uncomfortable. The good young man has taken his leave. The task is finished. The solitary student picks up the wicks of his oil lamp, to make it bum brighter; it smokes, and he picks the wicks down again. He turns round to the stove, gazes through the smoky isinglass on the melancholy glow of anthracite and thinks of HOME. How the picture starts out before him all aglow in the light of fancy. Mother, father, sisters, brothers, chance visitors just where they sit, what they are doing and what they are talking about what a tableau-vivant ! How bright by contrast with himself and his own surroundings ! Then he seizes his pen and writes the long- letter, which it is such a bother to rea i and more to answer, but which mother will have read more than once and worries about till it is answered. A little short answer it gets, signed, " In the very greatest haste, your affectionate sister." But the solitary student roads it over and over till he knows every dash and dot, and feels so sorry that dear sister, with her headache and her visitors and her ir.antuamakers, took the trouble to write to him : and in an excess of magnanimity sits down and begs her not to do so again. Thus Perry Seymour, when he was solitary of nights, in college or seminary, used ' to sit and think and dream and love. And when he had thought of his mother in her little parlor, taken an excursive flight up stairs to Mr. Sickles in the attic, and followed Miss Van Home from garret to cellar 352 A BLIGHT ON THE ROSE-TREE. in her search after work and had no sisters to think about, and no brother that he cared to think long about what wonder .that he thought of Nellie Lee, the nearest to a sister he had ever known, only nearer than any sister could be what wonder if, next to providing for his mother's comfort, Nellie was the conspicuous object in the vistas down the future which used to open before him what wonder if, in the long letters which he wrote, there was a great deal about Nellie where she was ? and how she was ? and a multitude of questions his mother could riot answer and which were meant simply as tender sentiments, not to be answered ! Or what wonder was it, that Perry was glad to see any one who, in any way, was connected with Nellie if it were only Cyn- thia Stryker, who came from the same pretty village of Cedarville or, that he went very often to see Cynthia, just in hopes of hearing something of Nellie, and would sit for a whole evening, to get the information he did not always like to ask for ! And what wonder, we might add, if Cynthia should regard such frequent and long calls as evidence of her own powers of attraction ! Miss Stryker, happily for Perry's modesty was fond of talking about the Lees. She had long budgets of news con- cerning them, after every return from Cedarville, and seldom received a letter from Bedminster Parsonage, that did not contain some allusion to Truro and its family. But there was poison in this gossip, where Perry sought honey. The Strykers insinuated the first suspicion into his mind that there might be a bar to the intimacy with Nellie which had been allowed in childhood. They described the Lees as proud and haughty, gay, worldly and irreligious ane's smile of ap- 386 A SUDDEN GUST probation and real pleasure, when he repeated to her, imme- diately afterward, what had passed between Perry and him- self. Helen entered Mrs. Lee's little room, just after her father had left it. j Her mother had tears in her eyes and smiles on her face, and she kissed Helen it was unusual for Mrs. Lee to kiss even her, she was so undemonstrative but she kissed her now most affectionately. " What has happened, ma ?" asked Helen, hardly able to refrain from laughing at her own puzzled state of mind. " Oh ! you will know," answered Mrs. Lee. At that moment, Mr. Seymour opened the door ; her mother pushed her toward him, in a way that said, " He will tell you." Helen went with him in a sort of bewilderment. He led her down to the stile. He took his seat by her side, just as he had done when they were children. He told her of the dreams of his boyhood, of the new disclosures of the last few hours, and of her father's kind if reluctant indulgence. And " In her ear he whispers gayly, ' If my heart by signs can tell, Maiden, I have watched thee daily, And I think thou lov'st me well.' She replies in accents fainter, 1 There is none I love like thee.' " " Oh ! Perry, how much better you behaved to me, when you supposed me to be engaged to another, than I did to you, when I thought you were," said Helen, as they found their way back to the house by dinner-time. " Please remember," he answered, laughingly, " the higher compliment I paid you in the supposed object of your affec- tion, than you accorded to me." AFTER BRIGHT SUNLIGHT. 387 " Ah ! but I had such evidences. Who would not have believed ?" was her reply. " Believe nothing too surely," he answered. " Not even present happiness ?" she asked. " It seems too great to be believed." And with this pathetic thought, they parted in a pleasant melancholy. For one week Helen and Perry were as happy as two young persons in their circumstances could be. Then came clouds. The news of Mr. Murray's sudden embarkation for Europe arrived. What did it mean ? Questions were asked of Helen that she could not parry. The truth came out. He was rejected. " Incredible ! absurd ! shameful !" were the sisterly interjections elicited by this information. " So rich, so handsome, so well-connected, so much admired if she refused him, what did the silly child expect ?" There must be some unexplained cause for this rejection, the sisters sur- mised. " No girl could resist Mr. Murray's attractiveness, unless her affections were pre-occupied." This started them upon a new investigation, which resulted in a new outburst of interjectional exclamations. Poor Helen ! what assaults her Christian spirit had to sustain. The sisters and brothers, who all their lives had neglected her with careless or selfish indifference, suddenly discovered their great affection for her, concentrated their thoughts an,d energies upon her particular interests, and con- stituted themselves the special guardians of her happiness. Emma Darling esteemed it "dreadful" that she should marry a minister. If it were dear Mr. Sydney Smith Par- sous, a man of established reputation, and high position in 388 A SUDDEN GUST the church she dared say, he would be a bishop yet it might be tolerated. But a plain country minister, who never sould be a bishop, it was preposterous. Charlotte Gaylord was shocked at the plebeian aspect of the case. Why, he was the son of a boarding-house keeper ! His father was highly respectable, it was true, and a friend of their family ; and his mother, it must be confessed, was a lady ; but she kept a boarding-house ! None were more violent in expressions of dissatisfaction, than Rupert Rupert, who owed so much to her kindness, had felt and confessed her intellectual superiority, and had himself yielded to the tender passion, in the person of Miss Pauline Delane or, her father's wide plantations. A par- son in the family was his abomination ! He liked Mr. Sey- mour well enough in his place ; had gone to hear him preach to please Helen ; had entertained some thoughts of taking to religion himself; but the project of bringing religion bodily into the family, in the shape of a real minister, that was a step beyond endurance. Not satisfied with these home-demonstrations, the sisters appealed by letter to the three absent brothers. Harry in New- York was the first to answer. Once Perry's intimate friend, Helen's sympathetic brother, himself young, and on the verge of marriage to the woman of his choice the daughter of a wealthy merchant from him a favorable re- sponse might have been hoped for. But he had been through the mill, and come out shaven and shorn of all nat- iffal and inartificial sentiments. He condemned the match as inexpedient. Helen was " too young" to judge for herself. Let her see more of the world, and when she had gained worldly wisdom she would thank them for their interference AFTER BRIGHT SUNLIGHT. 89 The letter to Robert was answered by Theresa. Shf held ap, metaphorically, both hands in horror ; and she i Lifted on Helen's immediate removal from the scene of danger to her protecting care at Newport. Robert added a laconic postscript, the amount of which was, that " the child should be permitted to do as she pleased ; but would be a fool if she pleased to make such a marriage." Norton replied in a long and affectionate epistle to Helen herself, in which, ever speaking with cautious respect of Mr. Seymour, and with gentle courtesy of her own good judg- ment, he sought to dissuade her by an array of arguments and reasons from what he esteemed an unsuitable match. Never had there been such an excitement in the family of Truro. Like an oarsman who, once upon a time, compelled to row a party of soldiers over a river, skillfully suffered the boat to be carried down stream with the tide, while he seemed to labor hard at the oar Mr. Lee, with a fair show of resistance, allowed himself to be overpowered by the sweeping current of domestic opinion that was carrying Helen far away from the haven of her hopes and happiness. He had another interview with Perry Seymour assured him of his high esteem but such was the youth of Helen and the repugnance of other members of the family to her be- coming a minister's wife that, for the present at least, there must be a cessation of all intimacy between the two ; and he concluded by leaving Perry at liberty to remain at Truro, or remove to the parsonage, as he pleased. Theresa Lee's suggestion was immediately acted upon, and Helen was carried off" in triumj h to Newport by Mr. and Mrs. Gracie Darling, on the same day that Perry Seymour took up his lonely abode at Bedminster Parsonage. XL. 0f Juts in Stntnp flans. "I resolved that, like the sun, so long as my day lasted, I would look on the bright side of every thing." THOMAS HOOD. TJELEN met her mother's sad, helpless, pitiful look with a -*-*- smile and a kiss. " Do not worry about me, dear ma," she said. " I do not mean to be miserable. Do you not believe these our little trials are all controlled and blessed ?" " Yes, my dear child," was the answer, " and ' Blessed are all they who put their trust in Him.' " Some tears in secret Helen did weep : a few bitter tears, more regretful ones. She wept as much for Perry as herself, for she knew that he in the lonely parsonage and secluded village would feel the disappointment more sensibly than she could. But Helen had a good conscience, a pure heart, a buoyant spirit and a fervent faith. She looked on the bright side, by the instinct (if it may be said) of a Christian nature. If sometimes pensive, she was never melancholy : and nothing was further from her thoughts than to sulk and die of a broken heart, with the heroine of the boarding-school drama. On the contrary, it was her purpose to be as happy as she could be. With keen relish she accepted all that was pleasurable in ODORS OF PIETy. 391 this first visit to Newport. The surf-bathing, the drives along the sea-beach, the novelty of life in a large hotel, and the variety of character to be studied r.mong fashionables, would-be-fashionables and (not less interesting) won't-be- fashionables, all afforded her amusement. But if her sisters thought her heart changed by change of scene, and took her joyousness as proof of the obliteration of Perry Seymour's image from her memory, it was because her sisters were no more capable of understanding and appreciating her charac- ter than they were of comprehending the spirit of Hebrew poetry. The winter in New York at Gracie Darling's Helen en- joyed. Her mother and father were there to make it pleas- auter. Sometimes, too, she could go to sec Mrs. Seymour and Mr. Sickles. She could not talk to them about Perry as she would have liked but this she cared less for, because cousin Hetty Hughes' letters gave her full information con- cerning the young pastor. To Emma it was a cause of no less surprise than regret that Helen did not delight in the society of the Rev. Sydney Smith Parsons. He was as perfect a minister as the united genius of a tailor, a posture-master, a popular lecturer to literary associations, and a Romish priest who could repeat scraps memoriter from the fathers, might be supposed to pro- duce. His performance of the service of worship was at least extraordinary. Milton described the Rev. Sydney Smith Parsons, when he wrote of the priest who " conned his motions and his postures, his liturgies and his lurries, till the soul by this means of overbodying herself bated her wing apace downward ; and finding the ease she had from her visible and sensuous colleague the body, in performance 892 ODORS OF PIETY of religious duties, her pinions now broken and flagging shifted off from herself the labor of high soaring any more and forgot her heavenly flight." One visit to St. Cruciform church sufficed. Helen would not go again. While the rest of the family went to admire and be melted into ecsta- cies, Helen and her mother, sometimes escorted by her father, sought for edification in the more obscure church which Mrs. Seymour attended, and where, in place of ele- gant essays on Christian virtues, the Gospel was preached, whicu tells not only what goodness is, but how it is to be obtained through the grace of a Divine Redeemer. Going to church with the family was not the only thing she would not do. She had a will of her own, and asserted it on occasions with an inflexibility and a good humor that obtained for her the reputation of amiable obstinacy ; yet she was neither obstinate, nor, in the popular sense, amiable ; but had the opposite qualities which belong to an impetu- ous, high-spirited, and generous nature. But as she laughed at remonstrance and ridicule, and yet would not go to the theater and would not go to the opera and would go only to such concerts and parties as she could approve, her saga- cious friends classified her with that species of humanity that is known as the amiably perverse. If there were amuse- ments to which she could be induced by no methods of per- suasion or coercion, it was not because of prudishness, prim- ness, moroseness, or sedateness. She liked gayety ; liked it even better than she approved it. She was willing to enter into it within rational limits, and was sorely tempted some- times to pass beyond those indefinite boundaries. And she was, by unanimous acclamation, the most joyous-hearted and icy-inspiring of the family. IN STRANGE PLACES. 393 The next summer was spent in traveling and visiting water ing-places with Robert and Theresa. la the fall, they were joined by Mi. and Mrs. Gay lord, and after a long tour through Canada, Ohio, and Kentucky, and visits to Niagara, the Lakes, and the Mammoth Cave, they arrived at last at Mr. Gaylord's plantation, where the ensuing winter was passed. Southern life presented an entirely new phase of human- ity to Helen's observations. She liked it amazingly in some features. The warm, cordial, frank simplicity of Southern manners attracted her as like does like. But she was brought in contact only with the gayest and least religious, and while she formed friendships and attachments as fervent as the Southern sky above her, she, if the truth be all told, admit- ted into her heart some as life-long aversions. This winter Helen was Pauline Delane's bride's-maid and saw her brother Rupert assume the life of a planter, to lord it over the slaves to his heart's content. Poor Rupert ! He was greatly improved, and regarded his beautiful sister with vast respect and admiration. But she feared the effect of the Southern atmosphere (physical and social), on such a disposition as his. Why was it that her mother's son had not the first idea of religion ? That Helen had forgotten the young minister, the sisters felt sure. How else could she enter with so much zest into the scenes around her. Yet she smiled upon no admirer. Young and old, learned and grave, rich and gay, had ac- knowledged her fascinations, without exciting one tender sentiment in return. The conquest, they hoped, remained for Langdon Murray. Their plan had succeeded to admira- 394 ODORS OF PIETY tion so far it only needed now the presence of the discarded lover to be complete. The wish to bring the two together was suggestive of a European tour. What prevented ? Theresa was always ready to take wing, Robert was com- plaisant, and Helen herself delighted with the prospect of gratifying the desire of travel and sight-seeing which burns in every young and enterprising nature. The early Spring found Helen, Robert, and the tireless Theresa again en route. There was a rapid journey to New York, a brief meeting with relatives and Mends, and a tearful embarkation, for voyages undertaken for pleasure, like many other pleasurable things, begin and end with tears. England, Scotland, and Ireland were explored, and the travelers arrived in London in time to attend a state ball and be presented at court. The second day after their ar- rival, Mr. Langdon Murray left his card. Theresa was de- lighted at the happy chance which had at last brought him and Helen to the same locality. That evening he called again. They were at home. The meeting, but for a shade of embarrassment at the first instant, was cordial. It was evident that the pleasure was mutual. For a week Mr. Murray attached himself to their party ; and he aud Helen seemed to be on their old terms of unrestrained friendship. Theresa indulged extravagant hopes, which were doomed to speedy disappointment. Mr. Murray and Helen Lee under- stood one another. They were only the best of friends. " Brother Robert will you take me to the great meeting at Exeter Hall to-day ?" asked Helen, one morning. " No," answered Theresa, quickly, " I need his services in another direction. Mr. Murray will gladly render his attend- ance upon you unnecessary." IN STRANGE PLACES. 395 Helen laughed as she answered, for she knew what con- sternation the answer would cause. "Mr. Murray, sister Theresa, is somewhere on the Channel." Theresa's look of blank amazement was answered by Helen's merry laugh of amusement. " He left his respects for you and Robert last night and was very sony not to see you to say good-by." Theresa was too much provoked to make an audible com- ment. One or two interjections received an angry half-emis- sion from her lips, such as " insane !" " weak !" " silly !" Her disappointment was too real not to affect Helen's sympathetic nature with a touch of sorrow for her, and coming up to her, she whispered in her ear these words. " Dear Theresa, I am no more the cause of his leaving than I was of his coming here. He understands perfectly that we are only friends." He had not been again rejected. This was some comfort, and left still a cranny for hope to shine through. Theresa re- covered her spirits. Another project soon captivated her vol- atile heart and for a time banished Mr. Murray from her thoughts. The American minister at the Court of St. James was no other than the grave senator, with the heavy, pas- sionate, thoughtful eyes, who, some four years previously, had felt the influence of Helen's attractiveness, and now yielded himself without resistance to the power of her womanly beauty, goodness and intelligence. An ambitious woman could not have refused the great and world-renowned states- man. But Helen Lee was not ambitious, and was annoyed, more than flattered, by the distinguished attentions which rendered her disagreeably conspicuous. Could she have fol- lowed her own counsels, she would have fled from London 396 ODORS OF PIETY and avoided the society where the great man could come. But Theresa, like every worldly woman, was dexterous in management, fertile in expedients. Her own heart was set on the match. She would not believe that it could fail. She left the door of approach open. She gave the en- couragement to the suitor, which Helen withheld. She per- severed, till a formal offer met with a prompt refusal ; and with the disfavor of both parties for her thankless interfer- ence, she at last yielded to the conviction that Helen was an impracticable simpleton. A felicitous conclusion tor Helen's future peace and exemption from her sister-in-law's maneu- vers. The affair with the minister hastened their departure from England. Two months were spent in Paris and three months in Switzerland. Every locality of interest was visit- ed; every wish, or whim, leisurely gratified. Restricted by neither time or money, they traveled, or tarried when, how, or where they pleased, and as summer approached again, they turned their faces northward, passed through the Ger- man States, and extended their travels to St. Petersburg and parts of Norway and Sweden. It was fortunate that acquaintances were found in all the large cities they visited, for Helen and Theresa seldom cared to see the same sights, or engage in the same amusements. Their tastes were as opposite as their principles, and both were often in conflict. Helen would not go, on Sundays, to witness splendid masses or splendid military reviews, or any thing else purely secular : and she cared not, on other days, to visit masquerades and theaters, or examine and buy costly fabrics in the shops. She did like, even in Paris, to seek out Protestant churches, and make herself a. .juainted with the IN STRANGE PLACES. 397 views and habits of humble Christian folk, such as she saw at the Sunday meetings, and found on week days in the little shops of the Bazaar, or the ateliers of work-women. She delighted in paintings, statuary and architecture too; but these Theresa had seen over and over again to the excess of ennui, not having as much taste that way, as for the pattern of a new lace, or costliness of a new bonnet. It was often, therefore, necessary that Theresa and Helen should each be provided with a special escort : and, strange to say, Robert was ever willing to be Helen's, and Theresa never reluctant to accept of some other. Robert and Theresa liked each other as much as was fashionable. He humored her, she admired him. As for love, there had never been much, and, on her side at least, there was not much material for it to grow upon. A plain- looking, superficially-educated, ill-disciplined girl, fond of dress, gayety, and good living, she had continued through the long years of married life, the course begun in youth, utterly thoughtless whether there might not be a more ex- cellent way. A mother, who could separate herself for years, as she had done, from her son and only child, and not feel (happily, indeed, for the son in this instance) that the highest privilege of the mother is to watch over and develop the character of her child what great good was to be ex- pected from her ? Her husband gratified her tastes more than he participated in them, and was patiently led about by her whithersoever she wished to go. But Robert Lee was capable of appreciating better things. There was an undeveloped part of his nature that his worldly wife never reached. Helen did. Attracted by her beauty, her spirit, and her genius, Robert's brotherly interest in his 398 ODORS OF PIETY sister soon grew into exalted admiration. He could not now, as when she was a child, give her a toss in the air and a kiss, and then forget all about her. He had to study her, to feel her influence, and to yield to it. Had Helen known the power she had acquired over him, she would have been startled ; and yet more astonished to learn that her true, artless, but vigorous piety had won its way to his heart, had led him to think, had made him an attentive listener to the sermons he had escorted her to hear, and had induced him to read the Bible his mother had given him, which, from filial affection, he always carried with him on his travels, but heretofore, alas ! had carried unread. The second winter in Europe was to be spent in Italy. At the close of a warm afternoon, after a day's journey ren- dered more tedious by accidental delays, they arrived in Florence. After dinner, Robert and Theresa sallied forth to have one look at the Campagna. Helen preferred spending the evening at home. They had hardly gone ; and she, re- clining upon a couch, was just losing herself in dreamy sleep, when a courier presented himself before her, with a card in his hand. She took it. It was Langdon Murray's. Something was written with a pencil under the name. She carried it to the light and read the words, traced in a feeble hand, "Please come immediately." The courier gave her the needed explanation. Mr. Murray was very ill. Had been watching for their arrival for several days. There was hardly a prospect of his living through the night. He was sensible now in an hour he might be raving again. Her resolution was soon taken. She called her maid, and the two started out together under the adventurous protection of IN 8TRANOE PLACES. 399 this unknown courier. He had provided no carriage none Avas to be had without the loss of much time. Through the dim-lighted streets, often jostled in a crowd rudely inspected when there were few idlers on the path they walked on, it seemed to Helen, for miles ; at last they came to a palatial residence, from one single window of which a light streamed out from the half-drawn curtains. They passed up marble stairs, through dark corridors, round sudden corners the maid tightly grasping Helen's arm, and trembling from head to foot in imaginary terrors Helen herself laughing and scolding at her apprehensions, and yet feeling the un- comfortableness and awkwardness of their position till at last the room from which the light had been visible was reached. Dim the light was, and hardly illuminated the im- mense apartment sufficiently to show that the dark object on the other side was a bed. While they still stood hesi- tating, a black figure arose from the side of the bed and came toward them. He uttered a joyful cry as he recog- nized Helen. It was Mr. Murray's long-attached servant. " Have they come, Simon ?" asked a faint voice from the bed. The servant put his finger to his lips, and returned to the bed. " Have they come ?" the sick man asked again. " Who ?" inquired Simon. " Mr. Lee and Miss Lee." " Yes. They are in Florence. Miss Lee is here, will you see her now ?" " Oh, yes," and the invalid raised himself in the bed and looked out into the dim light of the room, but unable to see any one, fell back again on the pillow. 400 ODORS OF PIETY Simon moved the light to a little table near the bed and placed a chair by it for Helen, and then beckoned her to approach, talking all the while himself, as if to occupy and prepare the sick man's mind for the interview. " You will get well, now, sir. But you must not talk too much. Miss Lee can not stay long. She and her brother will both come to-morrow and not leave you again till you are well, sir. Here she is, sir. Here is Miss Lee." Mr. Murray had closed his eyes, and with the languor of sickness, seemed to be indifferent even to that presence which he had so craved for. But no sooner did he open his eyes and see Helen's face, than his own lighted up with a smile of pleasure. Her few questions were briefly answered. He was ill of fever. Had been sick three weeks, was better now, but hope- less of life. The severity of the fever had abated temporarily, but the disease was not removed. "What can I do for you, Mr. Murray?" asked Helen, commanding her feelings, that longed for the relief of tears. He took from under his pillow a Bible and put it into her hands. " Tell me, Helen," he said, with a voice rendered strong by earnestness, " how a sinner may be saved. Read to me the proof of what you say from that Book." Helen trembled now with an agitation, the cause of which she could not define. Her thoughts were confused, she knew not what to say. That man, who had so often turned with indifference from the words of truth in all other things excelling all did he now ask instruction and seek to be a learner of her ? IN STRANGE PLACES. 401 While she still hesitated, he spoke again. " For the first time I feel the need, which, } T OU say, the Gospel supplies. I, never esteemed by others, never adjudged by myself a sinner now suffer one, single, absorbing, fearful conviction of guilt, awful guilt before God. Nor can I discover a ground of assurance for the world to come. Reason, nature, conscience give me no hope. Tell me if the Bible does?" The solemn deliberation with which he spoke, the earnest entreaty with which he implored light, helped to calm Helen's mind and enable her to speak to the point. With the sweet, childish simplicity which characterized all she said and did, she repeated the blessed doctrine of forgiveness through a Divine and atoning Saviour. She turned to chapter and verse for the proof of her assertions. She grew animated and earnest as she proceeded. There was elo- quence in the faith and love with which she pleaded for Christ with the sick man's unbelieving heart. At first he interrupted her constantly with questions : then he became silent. As she grew more earnest he wept. And when she ended, he besought her to pray with him. At another time she could not have complied with such a request. Never had she uttered an audible prayer in the hearing of any human creature, since her infancy. But now she did not hesitate. Nor was it an ordinary prayer of well ordered words that she pronounced by that bed-side: it was the soul's wrestlin^ with the anjjel of the covenant for another ^3 o soul's salvation, in thoughts and intercessions of the Spirit's inditing. "Oh, Helen," said the sick man, when she had finished, " I do commit myself into the hands of that Redeemer, but 402 ODORS OF PIETY. I have no evidence, none that 1 can discover, of His accept- ance of rne. I think I understand it now. I think I see that what my dear mother believed, and you believe, is not the unsubstantial, mystical, unsatisfactory vagaries I once thought. But my mind is dark. My heart heavy. Leave me now : and come again to-morrow." Helen retired from the bed-side and looked at her watch. It was past midnight. Three long hours had she been in that room : she could hardly believe it. Now, first, it occur- red to her that she had left no word for her brother, when she so unexpectedly came away from the hotel. She would not venture again into the street without him. A mes- senger was dispatched and after another hour returned with Robert. The sick man in the mean time had become restless. They could not leave him. Before morning broke he had intrusted his last earthly wishes to Robert Lee's friendly care ; and with composure, at least, though with no bright assurances of hope for the future world, he had yielded up his spirit into the hands of Him who gave it. XLL S0st "I am bold to say, that the work of God in the conversion of one soul; considered together with the source, foundation and purchase of it, and also the benefit, end and eternal issue of it, is a more glorious work of God than the creation of the whole material universe." JONATHAN EDWAKDS. rPHEY were on the ocean. Robert, who had seemed de- -*- pressed in spirits for some time past, was sitting with his head on the bulwarks, his whole attitude expressing a state of mental uncomfortableness. Theresa sat beside him, with a face expressive hah of annoyance and half of anxiety. Helen came on deck and approached them. " Here, Nellie," said Theresa, rising from her seat, " do see if you can not cheer up Bob. I have rattled on for an hour, telling all the nonsense and repeating all the jokes I could think of, and he has not rewarded me with a single smile. There is witchery in you. Do try your hand now and put some life into this dull relative of ours." Theresa spoke good-humored ly, but was not sorry to yield her seat and retire to the cabin. Robert did not move, nor seem to hear what his wife said. But he permitted Helen to take his hand in hers and pressed hers in its grasp. 404 THE LOST FOUND. " Dear Robert, can I do any thing for you ?" she asked. " You, if any one," he replied. " What is it ? are you sick ?" " Sick ? Yes. Not in the body though." " Your mind then is distressed about something. Please tell me frankly what it is." He moved closer to her and turning his face so that the side of it rested on his hand on the bulwarks, he looked directly in hers oh how pale and sorrowful his face was "Nellie," he said, "you are a Christian if there ever was one ; can you not guess what is the matter with me?" She did not answer. Her heart was throbbing too violently. " Will you not tell me what to do ?" he asked, with a pleading voice. " Look to the Saviour. Ask Him," was all she could say "Have you a Bible?" "Yes." " Where ?" "Here." He took from his pocket his mother's Bible Helen marked, on the blank leaf, references to the third chap- ter of St. John, the fifth and eight chapters of the Epistle to the Romans, and the fifty-fifth of the Prophecies of Isaiah. " Read those chapters," she said, " in the order specified. Read them again and again. Ponder them and pray for light to understand them. The first will show you what is necessary in the creature in order to salvation. The second, the plan revealed in Christ for salvation. The third, the security of those who are embraced in this scheme. And the last THE LOST FOUND. 405 the freedom and fullness of the invitation to come to be saved." " Thank you," he answered, taking the Bible. Having at- tentively observed the marks, he placed the volume in his pocket and waited for her to speak again. " Dear Robert," she said, " you must yourself carry this matter directly to your God. He admits no priests between man's soul and Himself, save the great High Priest. In His name, but with your own heart, your own lips aiid your <>wn words, pray for light, faith, penitence and acceptance. And forget not, dear brother, that prayer is not a mere thought, or wish, or emotion framed in the heart. Prayer is the actual and formal offering up of desires, in the way of asking, and in uttered words, unto our Heavenly Father. You can not answer the ends of prayer by a few devotional thoughts, or a hasty repetition of words, as you sit here on the deck, or lie in your berth. On your knees, with deliber- ated, earnest and repeated entreaties, you must ask, if you would receive. It is here, brother Robert, that the pride of man's heart, more than woman's, too often rebels." " Dear Nellie," he exclaimed, as if his thoughts had be,-n more upon her than on what she said, u how is it that you, with the example of all your brothers and sisters to mislead you, have turned out so good ?" " Do you forget our dear mother's example ?" asked Helen, reproachfully. " No, Nellie. But mother's influence was never of the pos- itive kind. She used to try to talk to me, in my childhood, but always broke down and ended with, ' be a good boy.' Once I was sick : she thought I was asleep, and sin- kiifi-lrd down beside me and offered a prayer. It was very brief and 406 THE LOST FOUND. she seemed "tightened at herself good, dear, diffident mother ! it was so unlike her to attempt any tiling of the sort. But that prayer made a deep impression upon me. From that time I have indulged an undefined hope that some day that prayer would be answered. Mother's influence was good, Nellie, but not decided. It made none of the rest of us good, and I doubt if that alone has made you 80." " But there was Mr. Poole's influence, Robert ; did you never feel the effect of that ?" " Yes," he answered ; " once at least. He met me in the village street ; and he sat down beside me on a large stone, and talked with me. I could not answer him, but I felt all he said. And when he left me, I ran home as fast as I could, hid myself in the bushes and wept, and, I believe, tried to pray. That excellent pastor, however, was not brought into frequent or intimate contact with us ; and we were under too little home-influence to render his occasional admonitions of much avail. Was there no one else, Nellie, to talk to you, instruct you, and help you ?" " Yes," she said ; " there was one to whom I owe more, not only in a religious sense, but in all good respects, than to any other person on earth. You have heard me speak of Mrs. Hughes Cousin Hetty, I call her ?" " The wife of the tanner, who has become rich, and made the tannery such a pretty place ?" " Yes." " The little girl, who has been a sort of school-mate and play-fellow of my Robert, is their child, is she not ?" " Yes. Mrs. Hughes was my Sunday-school teacher. I took a great fancy to her "from the first, and bhe always en- THE LOST FOUND. 407 couraged me in it. She has been my friend and counselor ; and her piety, and that of her husband, first led ine to seri- ous thoughts on religious subjects. I hardly know how it was ; a word now and then spoken to me, or said in my presence, led me to think. I soon discovered, though I had the vanity to suppose myself very good, that they had some sort of goodness that I had not. This puzzled me for a good while. I read the Bible a great deal ; I listened atten- tively to Mr. Poole's sermons ; and at last I learned that the root and source of their goodness was a simple, child-like trust in the Saviour of sinners. And that, Robert," she concluded, by saying, " is just what you must have to be good and happy." " Trust in the Saviour !" he repeated, deliberately. " Such as you are, Nellie, may trust Him. But not I. He must repel me. I have been reading His life. How pure and exalted His character ! How broad, deep, searching, and comprehensive His expositions of duty ! How peremptory his commandments ! No, Nellie, lovely and lovable as Jesus Christ is, He can not receive such an one as me. My heart is sometimes in an agony !" Tears rolled down his cheeks. Helen wept with him. " How long have you felt as you do now, Robert ?" " Do you remember," he answered, " the sermon of the French colporteur in the little thatched-cottage in the village of E ? You insisted upon spending Sunday there rather than travel on that day, though Theresa and I op- posed it, the inn was so uncomfortable. On that Sunday. while Theresa amused herself by attending mass in the chapel, you dragged me to that little conventicle of peasant Protestant;: an my thoughts. But that sermon of the colporteur in E reached my heart. What was purely intellectual 18 410 THE LOST FOUND. before has since become a matter of experience, of feeling. The intensity of my distress has gradually increased, and is sometimes acute beyond my power to tell. The words of the Bible burn into my soul. Oh, Nellie, how bitter, how awful is sin ! Once, accidentally, I took up a life of the missionary Brainard, and happened to turn to the narration of his fearful convictions of guilt. I thought at the time the whole thing was farcically exaggerated, and I smiled at the simplicity of the writer who could venture to publish such crude absurdities. But now I know it was true. I understand it. And I understand how a stern, brave Roman hero, one moment about to take his own life to save his honor, could the next moment, trembling and agitated, fall down at the feet of his Jewish prisoners, and cry out in an- guish, ' Sirs, what must I do to be saved ?' " " Remember, dear Robert," Helen interrupted him to say, " what answer the jailor's question received. ' Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved, and thy house.' That very night, Robert, yes, on the instant, he complied, and with joy received the sacrament of baptism. You may believe and rejoice now." "Come, you are growing melancholy together," exclaimed Theresa, who had approached them unobserved. " I shall have two moping relatives, instead of one, at this rate." " Oh ! Theresa," exclaimed Helen, jumping up, and lead- ing her away, " I want to show you how beautifully the water sparkles in this bright sunlight." She led her to the stern of the vessel, and made her promise not to interfere with Robert, but leave him to her management. Many were the conferences between the brother and sister on that homeward voyage. Theresa looked on in amaze- THE LOST FOUND. 411 ment. "Bob reading the Bible and Nellie preaching to him," was beyond her comprehension. But she knew that her husband's distress of mind was of no ordinary kind, and that Nellie's words allayed it ; and she kept her promise, save for a surprised ejaculation now and then. They tarried in New York but one night. How beautiful Truro appeared even in its winter dress. Could it be more than four years since Helen had last seen it ? She shed so many joyful tears at the sight of the old place, that she hardly had more to weep on her dear mother's bosom. " You shall never leave us again, dear Nellie. There has been no sunlight here since you went," said her father, affec- tionately. " Where is our Robert ?" asked Theresa, throwing herself into the easy embrace of a large chair. " He is in the green-house ; he can not know of your ar- rival," was the answer. " Won't you call him, Bob ?" she said to her husband. He crossed to the dining-room and entered the green- house. He heard voices at the other end. He made no noise, that ho might surprise his r>on. Suddenly he stood still, transfixed with surprise. Whom did he see? What recollection came back so vividly ? Surely, it was his old friend, the flower girl, talking to his own son, just as she used to to himself ! " Hetty," said young Robert Lee, " what do you like the flowers most for ?" " For what they speak of God aud Heaven." "Hetty," said young Robert, again "Hetty HUH" cried his father, stepping up behind him and facing her. 412 THE LOST FOUND. " Why, father !" exclaimed Robert, springing round. And Hetty, startled, dropped the japonica she had just picked from the tree that overshadowed her. " My dear son," said his father, pressing him for an instant in his arms. " But who is this ?" he quickly added. " You called her Hetty" " Hetty Hughes, father ; you Ve often heard me speak of her." " Hetty Hughes and so like Hetty Hill," he said mus- "My mother was Hetty Hill, sir," she said, looking up, smiling. " Is it possible !" He could hardly recover from his sur- prise ; but finding the young people's curiosity excited, he commanded himself, and said, playfully, " Hetty Hill's daughter must let me kiss her. Come," he added to Robert, " your mother demands your welcome, sir." " Have you brought aunt Nellie, too ?" eagerly inquired Robert. " Yes, indeed. And you, Miss Hetty Hill Hughes, I mean, must come and be introduced to her." "Oh, sir," said she, laughing, but taking his offered arm, " we have known each other as long as I can re- member." "Nevertheless, she does not know you in the character in which I shall introduce you." And so saying, he escort- ed her, puzzled enough, into the oak-room. u Come, Nellie," said her brother, the morning after their arrival, " you must take me to see your old friend and mine, Mrs. Hughes." THE LOST FOUND. 413 "You must consent to the short cut then, by the lots and over the fences " Helen replied, after a moment's hesitation " Why ?" he inquired. " Because I will not go any other way," she answered. " You must have your will then, I suppose." Man-like, he never surmised that Nellie might dread meeting in the street some one whom she would rather see for the first time elsewhere. Mrs. Hughes had heard of the arrival : but, not expecting her house to be invaded by the back-door, was sitting in the dining-room, looking out of the window from time to time, to see if Helen were not tripping up the garden walk. Helen smuggled Robert into the parlor, opened the dining-room door softly, and had her arms around Mrs. Hughes' neck, be- fore the latter was aware of her presence. " Cousin Hetty," asked Helen, after their first affectionate greetings were over, " why did you never tell me that you knew my brother Robert ?" The question was asked very earnestly, and tock Mrs. Hughes by surprise. " Why " she stammered a little, " are you sure I never told you ?" " Yes, indeed. You never did. And he remembers you so well and with so much intent." u Does he ?" asked Mrs. Hughes, with some embarrass- ment. u Yes, indeed, he does ; and he is in the other room now, crazy to see you. Come " " In the other room ?" said Mrs. Hughes, as if she could not credit the words. " Robert Lee in the other room, and wants to see me !" 414 THE LOST FOUND. " Yes ; and will be tired waiting. Cousin Hetty, what is the matter with you ? You seem to be completely mystified. My brother Robert, who calls you his old friend, is in the other room, and if you do not go quickly to see him, he will come in here to find you." " Oh ! he must not come in here," said Mrs. Hughes, in- stantly rising, and casting a fidgety look around at the vari- ous evidences of housewifery that disordered the room. " But wait a minute, Nellie. Is my cap just right ?" She turned to the glass, and took a general survey of her dress, picking off little shreds of thread here and there. " Yes, Cousin Hetty, your cap is right, and very becoming, too. How young and pretty you look to-day with that bright color in your cheeks. Come," and she hurried her out of the dining-room and into the parlor. Robert Lee would not have said, as Helen did, that Hetty Hughes looked young, though he would have confessed to her prettiness. Could that be Hetty Hill, the little, slender, rosy flower-girl ? now a rather stout, dumpling figure of a woman ! He could not repress a smile. She, too, afterward smiled at her own astonishment, when Robert Lee was pre- sented to her in the person of a rather elderly gentleman. Whatever embarrassment she had felt in the expectation of seeing him, all vanished at tho actual sight of him. He was not the Robert Lee she had known as a gay, handsome, fas- cinating young man. This Robert Lee, the gentlemanly, sedate man, with a generous sprinkling of gray hairs on his head, was quite a new acquaintance. Long and pleasant was their talk of the old time. Robert was touched at the account of the death of Mr. Hill, the rare old philosopher, as he had always called him. Mr. Lee THE LOST FOUND. 416 and Mrs. Hughes were mutually charmed with each other, and came nearer falling in love with each other than when they were young. Astonished, indeed, was Cousin Hetty, when Helen after- ward told her how her religious influence had been felt by Robert, at a time, too, when she hardly esteemed herself a real Christian. XLII. rang* l0$s0m$ snb flptle. "Few rightly estimate the worth Of joys that spring and fade on earth ; They are not weeds we should despise, They are not fruits of Paradise ; But wild-flowers in the pilgrim's way, That cheer, yet not protract his stay ; Which he dare not too fondly clasp, Lest they should perish in his grasp ; And yet may view and wisely love, As proofs and types of joys above." ANOSTJIOTTB. T\REARY seemed Bedminster Parsonage, when Perry -*-' Seymour first took possession of it. Drearier for the sudden and violent contrast with Truro, where a perpetual succession of events, a numerous and lively family, and what- ever could gratify the eye, or please the taste, contributed both to excitement and enjoyment. Here were only solitude and silence. Yet the parsonage intoned with his present state of mind. He liked it. He fancied especially the old school-room and dormitories. Their stripped, desolate ap- pearance, and the hollow echoing of his footsteps as he paced the uncarpeted floors, fell in with and seemed an outward re- flection of his own soul, barren of every hope that had beautified and naked in its poverty of all that could impart pleasure. ORANGE BLOSSOMS AND MYRTLE. 417 The other part of the house retained the furniture which had adorned it in Mr. Poole's day. It was old now and shabby, but it answered his purposes. A woman of all work, who was willing to serve him under the respectable name of housekeeper, completed his domestic establish- ment. We can get used to some things ; and Perry got used to his way of life. It had its advantages. He could study without interruption ; devote himself to pastoral labors ; and save money, by the economy of his housekeeping, for the mutual benefit of his mother and his library. So wedded had he become to the habits of a recluse, that when Mr. Sickles, one bright spring day, made his appearance at the parsonage, and announced his intention of staying there several days, Perry was almost sorry to see him ; and when Mr. Sickles insisted upon painting the house, transforming the unsightly school-room into a library, planting out new trees, and renewing the old flower-borders, Perry was really annoyed ; ho would rather have preserved the comfortless air around and within the habitation as congenial with his own forlorn humor. " Flowers !" he exclaimed, with disdain, as Mr. Sickles stood with hoe in hand directing and assisting in their arrangement, "what use, what propriety in putting them here ?" Mr. Sickles made no direct reply, but repeated, as if to himself a pretty version of Ruckhart's lines : r The flowers will tell to thee A sacred mystic story ; How moistened human dust Can wear celestial glory. 418 ORANGE BLOSSOMS AND MYRTLB. On thousand moistened stems, The loved inscription's given, ' How beautiful is earth "When it can image Heaven.' " Mr. Sickles would have his own way. He made many visits to Cedarville in the course of the spring and summer, and more than restored Bedminster Parsonage to its former beauty. The school-room became a grand library, with point- ed windows and alcoves and shelves groaning with books that Perry never bought. The outside appearance of the primitive edifice was improved by the addition of buttresses, between the pointed windows, a deep cornice and a heavy parapet. As seen through the trees from the street, it might be taken or mistaken for a Moorish castle. The length of the school-room allowed space for a smaller study beside the library ; and this study opened by long glass doors into a green-house. When this piece of extravagance was first projected, Perry strenuously objected. " Of what possible use is a green-house to me ?" he asked, " And who is there to appreciate or care for these rare and beautiful flowers ?" " I want them for my own gratification," answered Uncle Joshua. " I may come and live with you yet ; if I can ever afford to give up business." The long dormitory over the school-room, was changed into a suit of apartments, bed-room, boudoir, dressing and bathing rooms. These Mr. Sickles claimed as his own, with a jocose hint that any future Mrs. Seymour might have them for the asking. The up-stairs parlor, that had been converted into a dormitory, was reverted to its original use and newly and Vmdsomely furnished ; and the old study down stairs ORANGE BLOSSOMS AND MYRTLE. 419 was changed into a bed-room. At last the hammering and painting and papering, that had interrupted Perry's studies and tried his patience, were brought to an end ; and Perry found himself against his will, the possessor of a parsonage replete with comfort, enriched with whatever could gratify the most refined taste. He smiled at the folly of wasting so much money and pains, and thought that he would have felt more comfortable and even happier if the place had been left in tbe wretched condition in which he found it. But Mr. Sickles understood the philosophy of the human mind and heart better than Perry did. The cheerful aspect of his surroundings contributed to a cheerful spirit. The birds and the flowers of the green-house were society, something to think of, care for and even talk to, forming in some sort a domestic circle : and these and the garden gave him employ- ment. They prevented his becoming dull and listless, indif- ferent to external appearances, prosaic and commonplace in his characteristics. They were accessories at least to the preservation of the freshness, buoyancy and refinement of his character. Perry, nevertheless, became more and more enamored of his quiet and secluded life. He believed himself to have grown into the tastes and habits of a bachelor life and looked forward to no change in that regard. During the first year he called incessantly at the Tannery to hear news of Helen, always careful to say nothing that might be con- strued into an intended message for her. Mrs. Hughes was equally guarded. She repeated nothing of Helen's letters which might appeal 1 , however remotely, to be designed for him. He heard only absolute facts ; where she was, how phf was and how happy she was. When Helen and he 420 ORANGE BLOSSOMS AND MYRTLE. were first rudely separated, he cherished the conviction that it was only for a time ; they would be true to each other, and their brightest visions should yet be realized. But as month after month passed, these dreams became more faint. He knew how many things would conspire to banish him from her remembrance, how few to keep him in mind. What Helen could not have done in reference to him, he was guilty of in regard to her he doubted her constancy. By degrees he grew into the belief that she was lost to him. He learned to look upon it as a fixed fact to become reconciled to it and to school himself into the enjoyment of a single, solitary life. He gave his heart to his pastoral work, and of the blight of his earthly desires, could say, with the Christian poet, "Come, Disappointment; come! Though Fancy flies away Before thy hollow tread, Yet meditation, in her cell, Hears, with faint eye, the lingering knell, That tells her hopes are dead : And though the tear By chance appear, Yet she can smile and say, my all was not laid here." The first intimation Mr. Seymour had of the return of the travelers to Truro, was a call from Mr. Lee and Robert, the day after their arrival. Robert was astonished at the beauty of the external appearance and simple el'gance and comfort of the internal arrangements of Bedminster Parsonage. He wondered less when he learned Mr. Sickles's agency in the matter. Mr. Seymour received his visitors with the slightest degree of embarrassment, that gave place, almost before ob- served, to a calm, pleasant gravity and self-possession. He 8BANOE BLOSSOMS AND MYRTLE. 421 asked after t; Miss Lee" without revealing by look or tone any other feeling than that of polite and friendly interest. Only once di