READING MIISS INGELHOW.  p. 54. Front.




THE
STORY OF A SUMMER;
OR,
WHAT- DO YE MORE THAN OTHERS 7
BY MRS. MARY E. BRADLEY.
BOSTON
D LOTIHROP COMPANY
FRANKLIN AND HAWLEY STREETS




-ntered, according to Act of Congrea, in the year S87,
BY D. LOTHROP & CO.
In the Ofoi of the IAbrarian of Congrey at Wahigtom.




CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
"WHO WENT TO CHURCH?".... 6
CHAPTER II.
THE SERMON,.........2 
CHAPTER III.
MISS INGELOW'S POETRY,.,.. 41
CHAPTE1R IV.
VISIT TO MRS. REVERE,... 61
CHAPTER V.
DR. GRESHAM'S OPINION,.- 81
CHAPTER VI.
A NEW HOME,.......97








THE STORY OF A SUMMER.
CHAPTER I.
c" WHO WENT TO CHURCH? "
t HE  Sunday morning breakfast, rather
later than usual, was over, and the
inmates of Mrs. Blackstone's summer
boarding-house were strolling about the lawn,
or chatting in groups upon the broad piazza,
with the indolent air of people who have an
idle day before them.
"Warm morning, Mrs. Rushmore," says
young Pinckney, tossing away his cigar, as he
strolls up from the lilac-walk where he has
been enjoying his matutinal smoke.
"Very languid," Mrs. Rushmore responds,
an equal languor in her-soft voice.




6       THE STORY OF A SUMMER.
"You don't attend divine worship this morn
ing? " with an affected twang.
"Hardly. I seldom affect the droppings of
the sanctuary in country villages."
"Sunday is the only tiresome day at the
Glen," interposes Miss Fanny, with the pretty,
petulant air that Mr. Pinckney finds so fascinating. "Why can't we play croquet, I wonder,
or ten-pins, or something, to drive away the
blues?"
"Fanny I! Fannyl"  Mrs. Rushmore holds
up her dainty, jeweled hand with a gesture of
playful reproof. "The proprieties, my dear 
What will Mr. Pinckney think of your early
education?"
"The better the day the better the deed,"
retorts the young lady. "I don't see any harm
in croquet on Sunday any more than any other
day. And you don't either, mamma; you
needn't pretend it."
"One has to pay a certain amount of respect




"WHO WENT TO CHURCH?"          7
to public opinion, however, and customs of
society. Don't you think so, Mr. Pinckney?"
Mrs. Rushmore appeals to him, and he answers gayly,"Oh, yesl Mrs. Grundy is omnipotent, I
know; but if Miss Fanny is brave enough t~
defy her forms, I am brave enough to follow
her lead. You have only to command, Miss
Fanny; I am your obedient servant."
"And Miss Fanny, in her turn, is my obedient daughter," laughs Mrs. Rushmore. "And
you will be so good as not to encourage her in
such nonsense, Mr. Pinckney. Fanny, I shall
give you a scolding as soon as you go upstairs."
"Take my advice and stay down, Miss
Fanny," Mr. Pinckney suggests. And then
two or three idlers join the group, and prolong
the discussion with careless laugh and flippant
jest, while a young girl, hardly so old as Fanny
Rushmore, moves quietly away out of hearing




8       THE STORY OF A SUMMER.
of the conversation, whose irreverence jars
painfully upon her.
"Was it Mrs. Grundy who gave the command,'Remember the Sabbath day to. keep
it holy'? " she thought, as she went up to her
own room. "How can people, with souls to be
saved, be so blind and reckless? Sunday tiresome, and croquet the only thing to be desired, in the face of all this heavenly beauty I"
The picture that she looked out upon was a
fair one indeed, -a green knoll, crowned with
oak-trees, and sloping down to a rocky glen
where the fall of amerry little brook, from stone
to stone, made perpetual music; beyond, a
noble river, with a chain of undulating hills
stretching far away. The splendor of a July
sun was upon them, bathing the hights with
rosy effulgence, deepening, by contrast, the purple mist of the hollows; the river leaped and
sparkled in blinding light; and the soft sward
and clustering shrubbery beneath her windows




"WHO WEJNT TO CHURCHt"         9
and the waving oak-leaves above, were all bright
with the ineffable freshness and greenness that
follows the dew of a summer morning.
"The mere sense of living to-day is happiness enough," she murmured, "even, I should
think, for people'like the Rushmores. And for
me it is praise and worship too. One need
not go into temples built with hands to find
God, for these purple hills show forth his glory,
and the very leap and flash of this sparkling
water is a psalm of rejoicing."
She drew an easy chair to the window and
leaned back in a graceful, comfortable position
that enabled her to enjoy the whole scene without motion.  And she did enjoy it certainly,
with a rapture which she believed to be altogether devotional and exalted, but which,,in
reality, was quite as much due to the mere
satisfaction of the senses.  She was keenly
susceptible to pleasure or pain; she avoided
involuntarily whatever jarred against her fine




10       THE STORY OF A SUMMER.
perceptions of beauty and delicacy; her instincts were all refined, and naturally sought
expression and satisfaction in outward forms
of grace and purity.
To such a temperament, religious impressions come almost spontaneously. The beautiful, the heroic, the self-sacrificing elements
of Christianity appeal with a poetic charm,
and the young, fervent heart clings eagerly to
its ideal of divine Love. Evelyn Yale was
deeply imbued with this sort of religious sentiment. She believed herself to be a sincere,
humble Christian; she had lofty aspirations
after missionary labor, and fancied herself
quite capable of "the divine self-abnegation"
(as she phrased it in her journal) of such
a life. On the fly-leaf of that journal she had
copied Faber's fervent lines, —
" The thought of God, above, below,
Around me and within,
Is more to me than health and wealth,
Or love of kith and kin,"




"1 WO WENT TO CHURCH?"        11
and she really believed that they expressed no
more than her own heart could verify. Being
in possession of both "health and wealth,"
and having never missed "the love of kith
and kin," it was a point not so thoroughly
tested as it might have been. In reality she
was an earnest-minded and warm-hearted girl,
having "the root of the matter in her," but
being as yet far from the degree of saintliness
to which she fancied herself:an aspirant.
In the very matter under discussion this
morning, she was unconsciously faithless to
her own ideal, and proportionately as much
to blame, perhaps, as the idlers on the piazza
whose irreverence had so shocked her. What
was she but an idler of a different sort?- lying indolently in her easy chair, feasting her
senses -with fair sights, and sweet sounds, and
pleasant odors, while the church-bells were
ringing out their summons to worship the Lord
in his holy temple.




1 2      THE STORY OP A4 SUMMER.
Mrs. Rushmore "did not affect the drop.
pings of the sanctuary in country villages,"
and Evelyn had shrunk from the contemptuous words; but there was less difference
in motive than she would have been willing
to acknowledge. The same indolence of temperament disinclined both to the exertion required; the same fastidious taste made them
shrink from the probable tedium of an uninteresting sermon, delivered by some unskilled country parson.  Mrs. Rushmore openly
avowed it; Evelyn concealed it from herself,
covering up the less noble motive With an
unconscious sort of affectation; "no need of
seeking God in temples built with hands, while
these purple hills show forth his glory!"
Which would be all very fine if in this world
there were no need of example and encouragement; but what shall be done for those to
whom purple hills and flashing water do not
preach so eloquently as Evelyn imagined they




." WHO WENT TO CHURCH?"       18
preached to her? And these are the great
majority.
Near the window, within reach of her hand, a
small table stood, and upon it were arranged
her favorite devotional books. A Bible and a
prayer-book lay upon an embroidered mat in the
center, and grouped around it were several
small volumes, all of them delicately bound in
Russia leather or Turkey morocco. There was
a Baogatzky, a Sacra- Privata, a Thomas a,
Kempis; there was a volume of Herbert's
poems, another of Hymns from Faber, and two
or three of choice selections; and all of these,
if you had looked through them, you would
have found filled with pencilings, with pressed
leaves or flowers, daintily marking some favorite
passage or memorable date, with admiring ei
reverential personal comments, or apt quota
tions, neatly written upon the margins. A
fragile little globe of crystal, upheld by the
most aerial stem imaginable, contained one




14      THE STORY OF A SUMMER.
brilliant flower, a deep red rose, whose fine
fragrance was perceptible above all the-min.
gled sweetnesses of the summer morning.
This little table, a pretty thing in itself, made
of costly woods, and inlaid with quaint arabesques, was Evelyn's private altar.  She
carried it with her, whenever she left home for
any length of time, no other receptacle being
deemed worthy of her precious books. Some
choice flower, a spray of lilies, a cluster of
heliotrope, or a rose, must always be in the little
crystal vase, and the books themselves must
always be in the daintiest bindings. It is to
be questioned whether she did not attach an
undue importance to these things, —recalling
what is said of "the outside of the cup and
platter," —but no such suspicion ever entered
Evelyn's mind.
She spent the morning quite to her satisfac.
tion, enjoying dreamily for the first hour the
beauty around her, and then, as the sunshine




" WHO WENT TO CHURCR?"        15
grew rather too bright and warm, she closed
her blinds, and enjoyed the shadow and cool
ness. She read a chapter in the Bible, another in the "Imitation of Christ;" turned over
the leaves of her " Changed Cross," and memorized one of the short poems, then occupied
the rest of the morning in writing in her journal a rhapsody about the beauty and holiness
of a Sabbath in the country, using to advantage her familiarity with Herbert and Keble for
poetic illustration.
When the dressing-bell rang, she put away
her.journal, and arrayed herself in one of the
airy, gossamer muslins which she delighted to
wear. Her abundant brown hair was fastened
with a pink ribbon, and a rose-bud with its
leaves nestled at her throat in lieu of a brooch.
Nothing fairer, sweeter, more modest and simple, than her appearance could be imagined;
and more than one admiring glance dwelt upon
her graceful figure and sweet girlish face, as




16      THE STORY OF -A SUMMER.
she took her place at the dinner-table. Even
young Pinckney, though wrapt in admiration of
Miss Rushmore, could not help whispering to
his next neighbor, -
"What a pretty little blossom it is!"
And the neighbor — an old gentleman who
had not outlived his gallantry -answered loud
enough for Evelyn to hear, —
"Fresh as the rose in her bosom, sir I "
Which deepened the roses in her cheeks, but
at the same time sent a little flutter of pleasure
to her heart. Admiration is sweet, and Evelyn
was not above being pleased by it.
The usual question, " Who has been to church
to-day?" arose as the bustle of taking places
subsided.
"Don't all speak at once," said Mr. Pinckney in an audible "aside," nobody answering
in the affirmative.
"Let me suggest an amendment to the question," put in old Dr. Gresham. "Who didn't




" WHO WENT TO CHURCH?"         17
go to church? I've a notion that we are all in
that category to-day. For my part, I go to
church - when I do go, which isn't often - for
the music; and the robins and orioles have given
me all the music I want to-day. Miss Yale,"
turning to Evelyn, "I saw you at your window
after the bells had stopped ringing; your practice agrees with mine, whether your theory does
or not?"
He spoke interrogatively, and Evelyn colored
with a sense of embarrassment as she saw that
an answer was ekpected from her. She was
not quite willing to have it understood that her
theories chimed with old Dr. Gresham's, whose
free-thinking opinions had been often ventilated
at the table; yet the fact remained of coincidence in practice, in the matter under discussion at least.
"I always go to church in town," she answered, with a little confusion. "In the country
one doesn't feel at home; there isn't the same
association,-"




18      THE STORY OF A SUMMER.
"Exactly," Dr. Gresham interrupted, in the
"conclusive" tone he was fond of using;
"' you're not so sure of the music, and the minister is apt to be a bore. I thought we should
agree. Shall I help you to some salad?"
And so the question was settled apparently,
and Evelyn's religious position defined, to Dr.
Gresham's satisfaction at least, though it must
be confessed not altogether to her own. Was
this acknowledging her Master, she asked herself involuntarily, displaying the colors under
which she had vowed to fight against sin, the
world, and the devil? Was it not rather an actual confession that she went to the house of
God only to be entertained, and stayed away
when the entertainment was doubtful?
Her cheek burned with shame and confusion,
and a sudden painful conviction of failure in
duty broke up all the complacent serenity in
which she had wrapped herself as a mantle
hitherto. She longed to speak out boldly be




"WHO WENT TO CHURCHt?"       19
fore them all, and reject Dr. Gresham's takenfor-granted conclusion.  But the opportunity
was lost now; he was exchanging light compliments and banter with Fanny Rushmore and
her mother, and a ripple of merry talk and
laughter flowed all around the table, the course
of which Evelyn was not brave enough to interrupt by the very different matter that was in
her thoughts. She went through her dinner
mechanically, and took no part in the various
topics that were discussed about her. Dr.
Gresham, who had taken a fancy to her appearance and wished "to cultivate the little
rose-bud," as he would have expressed it, made
several vain attempts to draw her into conversation. Mrs. Maxwell and Miss Haviland, who
were acquaintances in the city, kept referring
to her, and others who sat near addressed her
from time to time, but she gave only a divided attention to any of them, and looked so
distrait, that Mrs. Hazleton, her aunt and herchaperon, was half provoked and half uneasy.




20      THE STORY OF A SUMMER.
"What's the matter with you, Eva?" she
asked a little impatiently as she followed her
up to her own room. "Have you a headache,
or anything? You look so disagreeably unapproachable! "
" Do I, aunt? I didn't intend to," Evelyn answered, half humbly, half wearily. "I don't
think I have a headache, either."
"You seem to be in a state of uncertainty,
generally," Mrs. Hazleton said rather sharply.
"Dr. Gresham spoke to you twice at dinner before he could get your attention, and when he
did, you answered him like a little simpleton.
To Mr. Pinckney you were absolutely rude,
and I wondered at Mrs. Maxwell's persistence
in talking to you when you looked all the while
as if you did not hear a word she said."
"I am not sure that I did," was Evelyn's reply. "At least I don't remember anything, for
my thoughts were very busy with other matters."
"When you go to the dinner-table, perhaps




" WHO WENT TO CHURCH?"         21
it would be as well to leave other matters behind," said Mrs. Hazelton. "It is not my idea
of social courtesy to sit absorbed in my own
thoughts, and be unable to respond even to the
claims of simple politeness."
Evelyn looked up in surprise: her aunt's
elaborate speeches were a sign of vexation
always, and a consciousness of her own rather
indifferent and unsatisfactory answers came
suddenly to her. She turned to Mrs. Hazelton
in quick penitence.
"I'm sorry, aunty; don't be angry with me,"
she said with the childish frankness that was
natural to her. "I didn't mean to be rude
and disagreeable, but I couldn't help it just
then. I'll do better another time."
"Well, I'm sure I hope you will," Mrs.
Hazleton retorted.  "I don't want to be
bothered with a sulky little thing who won't
speak when she is spoken to even. I expected
you to be the belle of the house when I brought




22      THE STOR Y OF A SUMMER.
you here; but if you go on this way, Fanny
Rushmore and the Barton girls, mere chatterboxes as they are, will carry off all the honors
that ought to belong to you."
"And they are quite welcome to them, aunty;
I don't want to be the belle of the house, nor
any such nonsense," Evelyn cried laughingly.
"I want you to take the place that belongs
to you, at any rate. You are a sensible girl,
well-bred, and well-educated, and very pretty,
too. And I don't choose to let you keep yourself in the back-ground. So now remember,
and if you are unruly, I'll send you back to
your grandmother, to be kept in town all summer."
With which threat, - not particularly alarming
to Evelyn, - Mrs. Hazleton retired to her own
apartments. Her husband had already donned
his dressing-gown and slippers, and was taking
his ease, in a masculine fashion, with his chair
tipped back, his feet upon the window-sill, and




"WHO WENT TO CHURCH?*         23
a delicate wreath of cigar-smoke curling about
his head. Mrs. Hazleton began to make preparations for taking her ease, in a feminine
fashion. She took off her numerous ornaments,
and exchanged her handsome silk dress for a
loose white wrapper, arranged two or three pillows luxuriously upon the sofa, and then laid
herself down, book in hand. It probably
acted as a sedative, for in a few minutes her
eyelids closed, and a rather sonorous breathing
gave evidence that she was fast asleep.




CHAPTER II.
THE SERMON.
9VELYN, on her part, began to make ar(_   rangements of a different sort. Her.- floating muslin dress with its ribbons and
rose-buds was taken off, and a plain walkingsuit put on instead; her bonnet, gloves, and
parasol were brought out from their various
receptacles, and soon Evelyn stood ready to
carry out the sudden resolution which she had
formed, of attending the afternoon service.
She did not know the hour, but it was already
past three by her watch, and the village was
half a mile beyond the Glen; so she concluded
to start at once, and take the risk of being too
early rather than too late. On the lower land24




THE SERMON.            25
ing she paused and stood aside, to let a lady
pass her who was coming up the stairs, and
who, in answer to Evelyn's bow, looked up with
a smile and a pleasant greeting.
"Are you going to walk this warm afternoon,
Miss Yale, when siestas are the fashion of the
house?"
"I never take them," Evelyn answered; "but
I am not going exactly for a walk, either. I
am going to church."
"Ah? but you are very early, then. The
afternoon service begins at four, and it is but a
little past'three now. Are you going alone?"
"Yes; I know the way," said Evelyn, "but
I wasn't sure of the hour, so I thought it better
to start early."
"I am going too," said the lady, "and I am
tempted to ask you to wait for me, —unless
you would rather not have a companion?"
"Oh! indeed, I should be delighted." Evelyn
colored with quick pleasure, for this was of all




26      THE STOR Y OP A SUMMER.
things what she would have wished. Mrs.
Revere —Evelyn knew her name through the
formal introduction at the table, by which Mrs
Blackstone gave her boarders the opportunity
of cultivating each other's acquaintance —was
the person of all others whom she had seen in
the house that she wished to know. She had
never spoken with her before, for Mrs. Revere
was not given to sauntering on the piazza, or
lingering at the breakfast-table, and seldom
made her appearance in the bowling-alley or
the croquet-ground; neither did she spend her
evenings, as a rule, in the parlor. So there
were few opportunities of meeting her, except
at the table, where her seat was not near the
Hazleton party. Yet Evelyn had watched her
face constantly, feeling an attraction which she
could hardly define or comprehend; although
indeed the face itself was worthy of study, being beautiful with an inner sort of loveliness
that grew clearer and finer the longer it was




THrE SERMON.           27
dwelt upon. She did not mingle much in the
general conversation of the table, yet when she
spoke it was with decision as well as grace, and
every one listened to her, Evelyn observed.
How could they help it? she thought, for the
voice was music itself, and all its graceful modulations had come to have a wonderful charm
for the young girl's ear, though it was but a few
days that she had been aware of them. She
felt instinctively that the voice and the face
were indications of a character worthy of all her
love and reverence, and almost unconsciously
to herself she had been hoping for some opportunity to come nearer to her, and win
perhaps the recognition and response that she
felt would be so sweet.
Now it had come in a moment, all unlookedfor and unexpected; just as if — she thought
with a thrill of humility and gratitude - it had
been sent for reward and encouragement as
soon as she had turned her face toward the
path of duty.




28       THE STORY OP 4 SUMMER.
The ten minutes that she waited in the draw.
ing-room were filled with pleasant thoughts
and anticipations, mingled with new resolves
toward a truer Christian life.  She felt instinctively that from Mrs. Revere she would
get counsel and sympathy, and this feeling
was so reflected in her face when Mrs. Revere
came in as to win an involuntary response in
that lady's heart. She had not noticed Evelyn
especially in the groups of young people who
came and went in the large boarding-house;
and it was a simple impulse of friendly courtesy which had led her to ask her company to
church. But her first glance at the waiting
face, with its expressive eyes, awakened a
different and deeper interest
The walk to the village was not in itself
very attractive, a sandy foot-path, a hot sun
overhead, and shade-trees in a minority, being
not exactly the essential conditions of pleasantness.  But Evelyn hardly felt that- it was




THE SERMO".             29
disagreeable in the charm, of Mrs. Revere's
presence and conversation. Not that she said
a great deal, but the very first words were like
an answer to Evelyn's newly-awakened consciousness.
"I was glad to see you going to church," she
said, "in spite of popular opinion. If it is
recognized as a duty in the city, I can't see
what makes it less so in the country. On the
contrary, it seems to me even more important
when one is among strangers who may be influenced for good or evil by our example."
" Do you think that would have any effect?"
Evelyn asked, a little anxiously and with a
sense of self-reproach, remembering how she
had been in the habit of considering herself
only in Such matters.  "At the Glen, for
instance, who would know or care whether
I went or not?"
"No one perhaps, on this single occasion,"
Mrs. Revere answered. "But it would soon




80      THE STORY OP A SUMMER.
become known if you went habitually, from a
fixed principle of duty; and the probability is
that it would stimulate others to follow your
example. Just as some would make it an
excuse for their own neglect, that you stayed
away also."
" But I am little more than a stranger here;
I do not know half the people in the house
by name," Evelyn urged. "My example would
have very little weight."
"Everybody possesses a certain amount of
influence, however," Mrs. Revere said. "We
have no right to undervalue that, or overlook
its possibilities of power, in any situation.
You are a stranger here at present; so am
I;- but we shall probably be under the same
roof with most of the people at the Glen for
weeks and may be months to come. We shall
meet at the table, and in many other ways;
and of necessity, by our daily walk and conversation, make a certain impression upon each




THE' SERMONv.          81
other. The silent, unconscious influence of
a truly Christian life has wrought miracles of
grace sometimes."
"I'm afraid I haven't thought much' about
other people," Evelyn acknowledged ingenuously. "I have tried to do what I thought
was right, — what seemed to be right for me,
at least,- but I begin to see now that that isn't
the only thing to consider. I stayed away
from church this morning because it was so
much pleasanter to sit by the window and
look at the hills and the river, and all the outside beauty. It gave me good and happy
thoughts, and it didn't occur to me that I
ought to go to church. I felt as well employed
as if I had been there."
"Well? and then why do you go this afternoon?" asked Mrs. Revere.
"Because of something Dr. Gresham said
at dinner; I dare say you didn't notice it."
"Yes, I did.  He said he went to church




82      THE STORY OF A SUMMER.
only for the music, and the birds at the Glen
made better than he could expect to hear in
the village."
" And took it for granted that I agreed with
him," Evelyn added, "because he knew that
I had not gone. While the truth is that I
don't agree with him in the least."
"Yet you accepted the inference?"
"I know I did " with a quick blush. "I
was confused and cowardly; before I could
speak he was talking of something else, and
so I had not the courage to say what I really
thought. But I was ashamed and unhappy;
it seemed like denying Him, you know, to let
it be believed that I only went to church to
be amused. And so I made up my mind
to go regularly while I stayed at the Glen,
and begin this afternoon."
"That was right," said Mrs. Revere, with
a smile of approval that sent a pleasant thrill
to the young girl's heart. "You will define




THE SBRMON.            33
your position better by acts than words, and
I shall be very glad if I can help you to keep
your good resolution."
"If you will let me go with you always?"
exclaimed Evelyn eagerly. "My aunt seldom
goes to' church herself, and I am afraid she
will object to my going alone. If I am with
you she will be satisfied, aRd for myself I am
sure you will help me a good deal, if you will
only talk to me and advise me a little, now
and then. I have no one to tell me when
I am wrong, and I make a great many mistakes," she added with real humility and a
sense of shortcoming which a few hours before she would not have been capable of.
Mrs. Revere granted the request very willingly, and promised her advice whenever it
was asked for, and Evelyn went into church
feeling already strengthened and encouraged.
It was a little old-fashioned building, with
no architectural beauty of design or finish.
8




34      THE STORY OF A SUMMER.
The bare walls, the pulpit, the white-pant.d
pews very sparsely filled, and the windows
guiltless of Gothic arch or colored glass, were
all in opposition to Evelyn's esthetic ideas
in general. Yet they did not jar upon her
now, for her thoughts were lifted above the
mere externals upon which she was too apt
to dwell.  She did notice the trailing vines
that clustered round the open windows and
threw wavering shadows across the aisle, as
she passed up, with an involuntary recognition of their luxuriant grace and greenness;
but when she took her seat and bent her
head for a brief silent prayer, she felt only
the sweet consciousness that "the Lord was
in his holy temple," and she was permitted to
worship him there.
There are certain periods in all our lives
which we look back to with a thrill of remem.
brance, as the point where a lesson was learned.
a warning apprehended, a leaf plucked froun




TEE SERMON.              35
the tree of knowledge, a revelation gained, as
by some heavenly inspiration, of our true
selves, the needs we have been unconscious
of, the sins and omissions we have not suspected, the capacities we have never put to
their divinely-appointed  uses.   Long  afterward, Evelyn Yale looked back to this peaceful Sunday afternoon as to a landmark in
her earthly pilgrimage; and the rustle of green
leaves about a window, with the wavering shadows across a sun-lighted floor, never failed to
recall the peculiar emotions with which she
listened to that simple sermon from the village pastor.
It chained her attention from the first moment; for the text was the quiet but searching question, "What do ye more than others? "
and its exposition- in the very simplest language, unadorned by flower of rhetoric or grace
of oratory — taught Evelyn a truth that she
had never suspected before, — that she was




36      THE STORY OF A SUIMMIER.
mere idler in the Lord's vineyard, a cumberer
of the ground, a butterfly sipping the sweets
that others had hived, a Christian content to
accept all the blessedness of Christ's love without making a single effort to glorify his name.
The minister probed his text to its deepest
meaning; compared the lives of professing
Christians with the people of the world, who
acknowledged no higher law than that of inclination or conventionality; showed the small
quantity and feeble quality of the difference
that existed, in far too many instances; asserted and proved not only the possibility but the
necessity of a vast difference; and concluded
with an earnest and forcible appeal to the selfish and indolent Christians who were content
to receive all, doing nothing in return, to
arouse from their lethargy and prove themselves worthy to be followers of Christ by "doing more than others" who made no such pretense.




THE SERMON.               37
Whatever impression it made upon others
I can not tell, but one heart,- at least, was stirred
to its depths, and "whereas she was blind,"
Evelyn Yale now saw. The revelation was
no delightful one, truly: for her careless ease,
it gave her disq.,iet; for her assured peace
and happiness, it gave her doubt and distress;
for her complacent satisfaction with herself, it
substituted a humiliating consciousness of a
life spent in self-indulgence, — innocent, graceful, amiable self-indulgence, without doubt,but not the more to be excused for that. The
hymn that followed the sermon was that old,
soul-stirring, " Soldiers of the cross," and Evelyn's self-abasement culminated in the ringing
lines,-      -
"Shall I be carried to the skies
On flowery beds of ease,
While others fought to win the prize,
And sailed through bloody seas?"
She could not join iL the familiar strain,




38       THE 1STORT OP A SUMMER.
for her voice was full of tears. Mrs. Revere's
sweet and cultivated notes rang clear and thrilling above the untrained voices around her, and
brought to her young companion the first sense
of relief from her burden of perplexity and distress.
" She will teach me what to do; God has sent
her to me," was the thought which she seized
upon so eagerly.  And Mrs. Revere partly
comprehended it as she looked down upon the
drooping, troubled face beside her - a face
that stirred up memories bitter-sweet in her
own heart. Years ago one that might have
grown into some such likeness was hidden
away from sight,"Beneath the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment-day."
Nobody knew what sweet hopes, that never
could blossom again, were buried in the grave
of that only child. Nobody knew, either, how
many works of love'for other young girls had




THE SERMON.            39
been done in the name of that child by the
bereaved mother. God knew, who gave the
inspiration, and made her work its own reward;
and from him came her intuitive apprehension
of Evelyn's thoughts, her involuntary response
to the unuttered appeal.
Yet they walked home almost in silence.
Mrs. Revere said simply, "This was a sermon
to make one think. It was like the magic mirror wherein we see ourselves as we are, and not
as we seem."
" And I never saw myself before I " Evelyn
exclaimed involuntarily.
"To discover that we have been following a
wrong path is the first opening toward a right
one," Mrs. Revere said, and then they went on
silently, but with a strange sense of sympathy
between them. Evelyn was too full of emotion
to be able yet to put it into words; but at the
gateway, before they entered the grounds of the
Glen, where groups of the boarders were saun



40      THEE STORYr 0 A SUMMER.
tering about, she asked half hesitatingly, but
with an eagerness that her companion could
not fail to recognize, -
"May I come -to see you to-morrow, in your
own room?"
And Mrs. Revere answered with a ready ap
prehension of her wish, and a cordial welcome
that was balm to Evelyn's heart, —
"Indeed you may. I meant to ask you, but
I am glad you thought of it yourself. Come
and spend a long morning with me, and tell
me all you are thinking of now."




CHAPTER  III.
MISS INGELOW'S POETRY.
RE you ready for tea, Eva? "
A,1W   Mrs. Hazleton came into her niece's
room, very handsome- in her evening
dress and carefully-arranged hair, and took
a critical survey of the young lady whom
she wished to see "the belle of the house."
Evelyn had somewhat hastily rearrayed herself in the same muslin which she wore at dinner, and her aunt was slightly contemptuous.
"One would think you had nothing else to
wear, Eva. Why couldn't you put on something nicer for Sunday evening, when everybody dresses so much?"
"It was the first thing I saw, aunty, and so I
41




42     ITHE STORY OP A SUMMER.
took it. I have been to church, and I was a
little hurried."
"To church this hot afternoon! and without
consulting me? All alone, too, I suppose.
Really, Evelyn," and Mrs. Hazleton grew
elaborate, "I think that religion might possibly be compatible with a little observance of
propriety, to say nothing of deference to your
elders."
"I did not go alone, aunt, though I don't
think there would have been any impropriety
if I had," Evelyn answered with a certain quiet
firmness that she could display on occasion. " I
intend to go regularly after this to both services: and Mrs. Revere is so kind as to let
me be her companion. I went with her today."
"Mrs. Revere? Oh, indeed!" Mrs. Hazleton's tone of displeasure changed to a curious
blending of surprise and satisfaction, mingled
with a little personal pique. She was better




MISS INGELOW'S POETRY.       43
aware than Evelyn of Mrs. Revere's social
standing, several grades higher than her own,
and had made some rather ineffectual advances toward cultivating an acquaintance. It
was a little provoking that Evelyn should accomplish so easily what she had failed in; yet
being "all in the family," as she remembered,
the end to be gained was the same. So she
put aside her own sense of failure in her satisfaction at Evelyn's success, and forbore to
make any objections to her intended line of
conduct.
"If Mrs. Revere goes with you, of course it
will be perfectly proper," she said amicably:
"But there is one thing I beg of you, Eva:
don't be so disagreeably pious that you can't
take part in the natural diversions and amusements that belong to your age. I can't bear to
see young people set themselves up as examples
of goodness. They only succeed in making
themselves ridiculous."




44       THB STORY OF A SUMMER.
"I shan't try to do anything so impossible,"
was Evelyn's answer, half humble, half proud.
She knew she was no "example of goodness,"
and she equally rejected the idea that she could
be ridiculous in any circumstances.
"I want you to stay down after tea," Mrs.
Hazleton continued, " and make yourself
agreeable. It is not a religious duty to shut
yourself up because it is Sunday. I wish you
had put on that rose-colored grenadine, instead
of this insignificant little muslin; but it is too
late to change now - there is the last bell."
"Shall I do what she wants?"  Evelyn
asked herself as they went down together.
"I did mean to spend the evening alone, to
think, and pray, and try to find: out how to live
differently and better. But that is the sort of
thing I have done all along,- separated myself from others,- not tried to do anything for
them. What can I do?"
"Try in the first place to please your aunt,




MISS INGELO:V'S POETRY.       45
whenever you  can  without wrong,"  some
inner voice answered.
And she accepted it simply, resolving to
watch and pray that it might lead her into no
temptation.
There were a great many elegant toilets
around the tea-table that evening; shimmering silks, and gauzy, brilliant tissues, and
sparkle of costly ornaments; but the "little
rosebud," in spite of her simplicity, was still
the attraction to Dr. Gresham. He addressed
himself to her as soon as she appeared, asking
her opinion about a book of poems which had
recently come across the water for American
appreciation. And as Evelyn happened to be
familiar with it, and the topic was one which
brought out her best conversational ability,
she did herself justice, to her aunt's satisfaction. Dr. Gresham was also a person of note
in her eyes, and being so much older than Evelyn, there could be no impropriety in her re



46      THE STORY OF A SUMMER.
ceiving so much of his attention; while on the
other hand it conferred a certain distinction
upon her that she should be singled out for it,
from all the other young ladies.
Mrs. Hazleton had an eye for all possible
worldly advantages; Evelyn was too really
simple-hearted to consider them at all. But
she enjoyed this talk about books with the
well-read and well-bred gentleman —who was
old enough to be her father, and so put her at
her ease - very much indeed. All the more
because her friend Mrs. Revere took part in it
with equal interest. She had not seen the volume, but she had read and admired some extracts floating through the papers; and Evelyn was very glad of the opportunity to offer
her the book.
"Did you really bring it with you?"  Dr.
Gresham asked, looking pleased. " Now, that
will give you an opportunity, Miss Yale, to
confer a great enjoyment upon me. I am sure




MISS INGELOWIS POETRY.       47
you read aloud charmingly, and there is nothing I would like so well as to hear you read
some of those poems."
"Oh, indeed!" Evelyn exclaimed hastily,
"you are very much mistaken, Dr. Gresham.
You would not like it at all,- I should only
spoil the poems for you."
She was confused by the unexpected request and the attention it drew upon her, and
her face grew warm with the nervous dread that
he would persist in it. The soft pink flush
that mantled cheek and throat so suddenly
was far from unbecoming; and partly from a
mischievous enjoyment of her embarrassment,
as well as a real wish to hear her read, Dr.
Gresham insisted upon her obliging him.
"I am an old man, Miss Yale, without a
great many pleasures left me to enjoy; and
you are too kind-hearted, I am sure, to deny
me one that you can so easily bestow."
"But I can't --  really can't read alone —




48      THE STORY OF A SUMMER.
if you only heard me once, you would believe
me," was Evelyn's distressed answer. But the
doctor retorted that he was a doubting Thomas,
and nothing but auricular evidence would satisfy him; and Mrs. Hazleton interposed,"What nonsense you are talking, Evelyn I
Indeed, Dr. Gresham, you need not believe a
word of it; she reads delightfully." Which was
a statement not at all borne out by her actual
knowledge, since she had certainly never tested
her niece's accomplishments in that line. She
had a complacent belief, however, in Evelyn's
general cleverness, and was determined not to
let such an opportunity for displaying it pass
by. Evelyn found{ herself in a position most
embarrassing to a sensitive nature. Mr. Pinckney - always eager for anything new — was
adding his entreaty; Fanny Rushmore put in
sarcastically,"We are all hanging upon your lips, Miss
Yale I"




MISS I;BGELOW'S POETRT.      49
Mrs. Maxwell said good-naturedly, "Come,
Eva, you might as well yield gracefully." And
two or three tore of the circle about her
joined in the chorus, not because they cared
any thing about it, but just because people are
so apt to " follow my leader." So she had the
equally unpleasant alternative of appearing
selfishly disobliging, or being made conspicuous; perhaps to be laughed at and criticised
afterwards by the very ones who were compelling her to yield against her protest.
It may seem a trifling matter, hardly worth
her hesitation, simply to have read aloud a
poem to a few hearers. But the reader being a
timid young girl, and the audience composed
of such mixed elements, it was no small trial
of her courage. There was one person at the
table who understood it, and it was something
in Mrs. Revere's sympathetic glance that
nerved Evelyn to a decision.
" I am afraid you will repent of asking me,"




50      THE STORY OF A SUMMER.
-she turned to Dr. Gresham with a smile" but if you won't take warning, why you must
take the consequences."
"With all my heart!" was the gallant reply.
"And I'll take them immediately, if you please,
Miss Yale. This is the very hour for poetry
and sentiment. Let us adjourn to the west
piazza, and meet Miss Ingelow - not by moonlight alone, but by sunset in the best of company."
So Evelyn resigned herself to her fate, and
went up for the book. When she came down,
they were all gathered in the west piazza, so
called, though it was more like a summerhouse. It was crescent-shaped, encircled with
a close hedge of arbor-vitae kept even with the
rails, and overhung by two beautiful mountainash trees. A rustic table made of branches
of trees cunningly twisted together, and chairs
and benches of the same fashion, gave a summer-house aspect to the pretty spot; and these




MISS INGELOW'S POETRY         51
comforts, together with the glorious view of the
river and the distant hills which it commanded,
made the west piazza a very favorite resort.
The little rustic table often held a welcome little collation of fruit and cake and ice-cream
provided for the young ladies by their gentlemen admirers; and the echo of merry voices,
laughter and singing rang there every evening
till late in the summer night.
It was something new to find all the talkative groups sitting silent, waiting on the voice
of one young girl; rather ridiculous, too, as
some of them thought; and Evelyn instinctively felt their thought, not with a reassuring
effect.
"If only some one else would read?" she
said with an appealing glance to Mrs. Revere,
"It is a shame to spoil Jean Ingelow."
t, You'll not spoil her." Mrs. Revere smiled
encouragingly, as she made a place for Evelyn by herself. And so with an effort of self.




52       IITHE STORY OF A SUMMER.
control, and a shrinking from the sound of her
own voice, which only Mrs. Revere appreciated, Evelyn began to read. The poem she
chose first was that wonderful "High-Tide."
The tragic story, the flowing, musical rhythm,
the quaint simplicity, the ineffable pathos and
melody of-the whole poem, chained attention
from the first; and though Evelyn's voice was
somewhat low and tremulous in the beginning,
it steadied itself unconsciously very soon. She
had the sympathy of her listeners, which put
her at ease, and she possessed the essential
quality of a good reader, the power to render
feelingly what she keenly felt herself.
The "High Tide" was a perfect success,
and a murmur of voices rose around her when
she had finished. "How charming!"  "How
pathetic!"  "What melodious music! and how
sweetly you have read it!"  "Do read something else, Miss Yale!"
"Am I not justified?" said Dr. Gresham




MISS INWGBLOW'S POBTRY.     53
graciously. "I hope you are all duly grateful
to me for presenting this young debutante, so
unconscious of her own powers."
"She knew that would highten the effect,"
said Mrs. Maxwell playfully. "Read something else, Evelyn; you've no sort of excuse
now."
"May I read my own favorite? " asked Evelyn, with a sudden impulse. " It is long, and
it isn't in rhyme, and perhaps you will not like
it. But I think it is the noblest poem in the
book; and it suits for Sunday reading."
" Read it then by all means," said Mrs. Revere quickly. The others assented, and though
Evelyn caught Fanny Rushmore's sarcastic
whisper to Mr. Pinckney, " Blank verse,
and pious I Why not have Young's Night
Thoughts?" she did not shrink from her purpose.
"Brothers, and a Sermon," was the name of
the poem, and those who are familiar with it




54       THE STORY OF A SUMMER.
will need no comment here upon its matchless
fervor and tenderness. Evelyn had read it to
herself over and over again with ever new ad.
miration; she knew how to read it effectively,
in spite of its frequent changes of tone, and
even as her own heart had thrilled to the passionate pleading of the grand old preacher, so
her rapt and earnest utterance of his wonderful
"sermon," impressed vividly the hearts of her
listeners. Mrs. Revere's face grew paler and
more intense as she listened; tears gathered
in Dr. Gresham's eyes, which he was not
ashamed to wipe away; even Fanny Rushmore
sat eager, with lips parted, and a dawn of
deeper feeling in her look than she was often
suspected of possessing. It filled Evelyn with
a sort of inspiration: she forgot all self-consciousness, and for the time was imbued only
with the one absorbing desire of the preacher
-that her hearers, too, might open the door,
and answer Siim who saith, "I stand and
knock."




MISS INGELOW'S POETRY.            55
Her girlish voice grew deep with some inard power, as she read:
"0 Lord, our Lord,
How great is thy compassion I Come, good Lord,
For we will open. Come this night, good Lord,
Stand at the door and knock.
"And is this all 
Trouble, old age, and simpleness, and sin -
This all? It might be all some other night.
But this night, if a voice said' Give account;
Whom hast thou with thee?' then must I reply,
Young manhood have I, beautiful youth and strength
Rich with all treasure drawn up from the crypt
Where lies the learning of the ancient world
Brave with all thoughts that poets fling upon
This strand of life as drift-weed after storms;
Doubtless familiar with Thy mountain-heads,
And the dread purity of Alpine snows;
Doubtless familiar with Thy works concealed
For ages from mankind — outlying worlds
And many-mooned spheres - and Thy great store
Of stars, more thick than mealy dust which here
Powders the pale leaves of auriculas




g6       r ITHE STORY OP 0A SUMMER.
"This do I know, but, Lord, I know not more;
Not more concerning them. Concerning thee,
I know Thy bounty; where Thou givest much,
Standing without, if any call Thee in
Thou givest more. Speak then, 0 rich and strolng
Open, O happy young, ere yet the hand
Of Him that knocks, wearied at last, forbear,
The patient foot its thankless quest refrain,
The wounded heart for evermore withdraw."
There was a breathless pause for a minute
when she closed the book. No one asked for
any thing more, with an instinctive sympathy
of feeling that the effect of this should not be
marred.  Many thoughts were striving in the
hearts of this group; thoughts new and awful to some, solemn and sweet to others,- for
there were others there besides the young
reader, who had heard the voice of Him who
has said, through so many patient, thankless
years, "I stand at the door and  knock."
Their ears had grown dull to it, perhaps
they had forgotten some of the joy with which




MISS INWELOW'S POETRY.      57
they "opened the door" at first, to welcome
Him in; they had neglected to cherish the
heavenly visitor, and fallen away from their
first love; now their world-hardened hearts
grew tender with quick remorse, touched by
the unexpected warning.
Others- like Dr. Gresham's, Pinckney's,
Fanny Rushmore's - were roused from the
careless ease which had no consciousness or
any thing lacking. Was there not something
here that concerned them? And it was not so
easy to shake off the impression of that thrilling voice, calling so vainly to them through all
these years.
Somebody suggested music presently. The
piano stood near the wide window which
opened on the west piazza, and Mrs. Revere
went in quietly, and began to play. She was
known to be a fine musician, and her rendering of Chopin and Mendelssohn was a -are enjoyment. But she played no symphonies or




58      TIB STOR Y OF A SU)IMER.
sonatas to-night. A few simple chor Is that
woke a familiar strain; then her beautiful,
tender voice in the well-known hymn —
"Jesus and shall it ever be,
A mortal man ashamed of thee?"
Evelyn could not stay outside, sweet as it
was in the dewy twilight. She came in and
stood by the piano, where she could see as
well as hear the singer. Dr. Gresham followed her presently.
"My mother used to sing that when I was
a child," he said, when the hymn was ended.
"I have not heard it in many years, but it
wakes up memory now. She sang it as you
do, with an enthusiasm, a sense of exaltation, that used to thrill me, though I did not
understand it then any more than I do now."
" But it it is so easily understood," Mrs. Revere said simply. "How can one help being
exalted with the idea that Christ, the Son of
God, is his friend?"




MISS I1NGELO'S POETMr.      59
" It is a beautiful ida," said Dr. Gresham,
with a slight emphasis on the word.
"It is more than that; it is a saving truth,"
she answered. "Your mother knew it, and so
do I."
"My mother was a good woman. If she
had lived longer, she might have inspired me
with her faith. There is something attractive
in these childhood creeds, I grant you, Mrs.
Revere, but when the mind wakes up to reason, there is no ground left for them to stand
on."
"Not to the wise and prudent," she murmured, more to herself than in answer to him.
She would not argue the question with Dr.
Gresham -now at least, for the rest were coming in from the piazza, and another hymn was
asked for. She sang "Rock of Ages," and
very soon the sweet strain was swelled with
other voices than her own. Then more hymns
-the old familiar words to the old familiar




60      THE STORY OP A SUMMER.
tunes, that held some sacred or tender association for almost every one there - were sung
in the deepening twilight. And so the Sunday evening passed away, more like a Sabbath
than it was wont to be at the Glen. "Quite
like a little prayer-meeting," Mrs. Hazleton
said with a slight yawn, as she kissed Evelyn
good-night. "Still, it was very pleasant and
suitable, and you really made quite an impression with your reading, Eva. It is worth
while being obliging and complaisant, you
see."




CHAPTER IV.
VISIT TO MRS. REVERE.
EVELYN anticipated her visit to Mrs. Revere with eager interest. Her newlyV  awakened consciousness needed direc.
tion, and she felt sure that her friend could
advise and direct, and utilize, so to speak, her
desire to render a more faithful and self-denying service.
She was not disappointed in this belief.
Mrs. Revere's life had been very rich in experience; she had been over the whole ground
of Evelyn's difficulty, and no one was better
calculated to guide and sympathize.  They
were very happy hours that Evelyn spent in
Mrs. Revere's room that Monday morning;
61




62      THE STORY OF A SUMMER.
not merely in earnest conversation, but in a
little practical work already.  There was a
small heap of white bundles lying upon a table,
and while she talked, Mrs. Revere opened one
of these, and began sewing up a seam in what
appeared to be a sort of doll's night-gown.
Evelyn watched her curiously for a while; al
last she yielded to the impulse to ask what the
work was.
"You can't be really making doll's clothes?"
she said laughingly.
"Why not?" Mrs. Revere smiled. "I have
dressed a great many dolls, and expect to
dress a great many more, if I shall live."
" But you have no children."
"There are a great many in the world, 1owever, and I have found it easy to dispose of all
my dolls."
Evelyn colored as a new light broke upon
her.  "You give them away to poor children! 
she exclaimed. "Now why did I never think




VISIT TO MRS. RE VERB.      63
of doing such things? I have had time enough,
and money enough, and how many poor little
things I might have made happy, if I had only
thought of it! X
"You remember Hood's poem of' The Lady's Dream?'" asked Mrs. Revere.  "He
never wrote anything truer than the closing
lines:'Evil is wrought by want of thought,
As well as want of feeling.' "
"And how much I must have wrought l"
Evelyn cried, with genuine regret. "I have
only thought of myself all my life, I am afraid.
And yet I didn't know,-I never meant to be
so selfish. If any body had come to me in
trouble, I should have been sorry, and tried to
help. No one ever did though."
"But the world is full of trouble, my dear.
It lies before cur eyes in one shape or another
all the while; we leave it behind us in the old
place, and we meet it again in the new. The




64      THE  STORY OF A SUMMER.
wonder is how any one can avoid seeing it."
"I suppose I have gone through the world
with my eyes shut," Evelyn answered humbly.
" If you will help me to open them, I shall be
very thankfil. And if you will let me help
you now with your doll's clothes? "
" I did not say they were doll's clothes," Mrs.
Revere returned, with a smile. "Perhaps you
will enjoy the work more if I tell you that they
are intended for flesh-and-blood dolls."
"They are too little I" Evelyn exclaimed.
"No human child could wear such a garment
as that."
Mrs. Revere held up the little slip, and
laughed herself at its tiny proportions. "But
nevertheless," she said, "it is quite large
enough for the baby who will wear it. Have
you ever walked through that little settlement
below the hill, near the railroad?"
No, Evelyn acknowledged she never had.
There were too many dirty children, too many




VISIT TO MRS. RE VERE.
strings of wet clothes, too much shabbiness
and poverty to tempt her near it. She had
wished sometimes, as she stood upon the green
hill overlooking the river, that all those shabby
little tenements could be blotted out of the
landscape; they spoiled its beauty.
"They give shelter to twenty or thirty families," said Mrs. Revere, " who would be homeless if you had your wish. In one of them
there are two little new-born children, whose
father was killed on the railroad a month ago;
their mother lies ill and helpless with nobody
to care for her, and the poor little twins found
nothing ready for them when they came into
the world."
"And you are making clothes for them!"
Evelyn exclaimed. "What little, little, creatures they must be! May I really help you?
I can sew very nicely, indeed."
"Indeed, I shall be very glad of your help.
The twins need their little garments quite as




66      THE STORY OF A SUMMER.
much as if they were bigger, and I want to
finish them as soon as possible."
"I will run and fetch my thimble," said Evelyn eagerly. "May I sit with you and sew?"
"Certainly you may."
And Evelyn flew up to her own room in a
happy excitement, to get her work-box. Mrs.
Hazleton met her in the hall.
"Where are you, Eva? "
"Down stairs with Mrs. Revere. And oh,
aunt, there are two little babies down by the
railroad —twins, with nothing to wear; and
she is going to let me help her make some
clothes for them! "
Evelyn's eyes sparkled with her eager interest; and her aunt, who had just accepted
an invitation to drive with Mrs. Maxwell, was
rather glad that she had found something to
amuse her.
"If you want any thing to make up," she
said graciously, "there is a piece of white




VISIT TO MRS. R.VERE.       67
cross-bar in my trunk that you may have. I
bought it for a dressing-wrapper, but it is rather
coarse, and I shan't use it. It will make slips
for your twins."
"Oh, thank you!" Evelyn gave her a rapturous kiss, and darted off to get her muslin.
Mrs. Hazleton went away for her drive in all
the better humor, and her niece was soon
again in Mrs. Revere's room with her work-box
and the new contribution to the twins' ward
robe, which proved to be highly acceptable.
There was enough of it to make four nice
dresses for them, and- Mrs. Revere cut them
out at once, while Evelyn took up the little
night-gown and finished it.
It was one of the happiest mornings she had
ever spent. The hours flew by, the little garments grew under the busy hands, ar d Evelyn
felt as if she was growing too, in the sunshine
of her friend's ripe experience. If she had
never seen her again the influence of this




THE STORY OF A SUMMI R.
rmorning would still have remained; she could
never have gone back again to the old indolent, self-indulgent manner of life. Her eyes
were opened now, her conscience aroused, and
henceforth if she lived to herself only it was
willfulness not ignorance. Happily for her, the
intercourse which had proved so beneficial in
its beginning was likely to continue. Mrs.
Revere saw in the young girl possibilities of a
beautiful Christian development, and she was
not one to neglect any opportunity for doing
herself, or helping others to do, her Master's
work.
"You would not like to go with me this afternoon, to carry these little garments, would
you? " she asked, when the dressing-bell rang,
and two of the night-gowns were folded up,
finished.
"Indeed I would, if you would let me 1 " was
Evelyn's ready answer.
"But they are shabby little houses; there




VISIT TO MRS. REVER.       69
are bad smells, and dirty children, and pos
sibly pigs, to be encountered I"
"I don't care. If you are not afraid of the
pigs, why should I be?"
"What will your aunt say?"
"I don't think she will make any objections
if I am with you," said Evelyn simply.
"I will ask her myself to allow'you," Mrs.
Revere  promised, being  sufficiently clearsighted to guess that Mrs. Hazleton would be
flattered by the request. Evelyn knew very
well that she would yield a gracious consent to
any thing Mrs. Revere asked, though otherwise
she would have been shocked at the idea of
her niece being seen in such places. And the
result proved that she was not mistaken.
Down-stairs, to Mrs. Revere, MrS. Hazleton
said in her most affable manner:
"Certainly Evelyn may accompany you; I
am very happy to allow her. When she is
with you I can not have any anxiety about
her."




70      THBE STORY OF A SUMMER.
But up-stairs, to her niece, Mrs. Hazleton
said, rather fretfully:
"I should think you might be contented
with doing the work, Eva, without wanting to
poke about in those dirty little holes; such hot
weather, tool I only hope you won't bring
home the small-pox, or something."
" Don't be afraid, aunty; Mrs. Revere knows
all about the place. She wouldn't take me if
there was any danger," Evelyn answered
cheerfully.
"People have very queer tastes," Mrs. Hazleton continued. "I believe in being charitable; I am always willing to give what I
can, but I don't see any good in going about
these Irish tenements, and exposing yourself
to all sorts of disagreeable things. If it was
any body but Mrs. Revere, you shouldn't go
one step."
Which Evelyn knew very well beforehand.
As it was Mrs. Revere, however, she went, and




VISIT TO MRS. BREVER.       71
was certainly none the worse for going. She
saw the twins, and their mother, - a poor young
creature not many years older than Evelyn
herself, yet burdened with the sorrow of widowhood, the cares of maternity, and the bitter
anxieties of poverty. The babies were like
dolls, the tiniest creatures she had ever seen
in her life. She took one of them in her
hands, and tried to dress it in the clean white
slips she had brought; but the little soft head
that rolled about so helplessly frightened her.
"I shall break its neck; I can't do it," she
said, half laughing, half ashamed. And Mrs.
Revere, who had already robed the other child,
with her gentle, skillful hands, took it from
her, and showed her how to support the uncertain little head, and the back that had no
bone in it yet, to signify. They looked very
pretty and winsome after they were dressed;
and the young mother was overflowing with
gratitude.




72       THB  STORY OP A SUMMER.
"I had no heart at all to do a thing, she
said to Evelyn, "even if I'd had any thing
to do with. When my man was killed, I just
wanted to die myself as quick as I could.
And I thought I would die when the babies
came, and it would all be over. But I didn't,
and the little things were naked in the world;
and only for this lady  God bless her!- I
don't know what would have become of us."
Evelyn looked at her friend; she could not
speak, for her eyes were full of tears, her heart
of loving admiration. Mrs. Revere smoothed
softly the little head that lay in her lap.
"You have something to live for now," she
said cheerfully to the mother.  "Here are
two dear little lives to work for; two precious
little souls to watch over, and keerp out of evil.
They have a heavenly Father, you know, and
he will not forsake you or them, if you will
only trust him, and obey him, and bring up
your children to love him."




VISIT TO MRS. REVERE.      7.1
"I'll try, indeed I will I" was the motner's
tearful answer. And Evelyn could guess at
the ministry of love that had been performed
here. There was a cradle beside the bed,
new and neat, with all its little accompaniments; and the mother's garments, as well as
the twins', had evidently been supplied by Mrs.
Revere. But more than all this, even, was the
heavenly charity which had not merely relieved physical wants, but. had given tender
sympathy, wise consolation, and gentle leading toward the Fountain of all comfort.
It was a lovely walk home in the evening
dew and coolness. They stood upon "the
Green " a sort of village common on an elevation above the river, and watched the exquisite tints' in sky and water which the sunset
had left behind. A rosy cloud hung over the
extreme end of Croton Point, and was reflected
with equal glow in the bright river beneath;
Hook Mountain stood out bdld in a royal man



74      THE SP OR  OF A SUMMER.
tie of purple against a golden background
and all the graceful Highland range with the
far away, misty hills behind, took on new
beauty in the changeful splendor of the clouds.
The steamboats were coming in, their bright
streamers floating on the breeze, and a long
white wake glittering -behind them. On the
Green, groups of people walked about, or sat
on the rocks watching the boats. They were
village people with their children, mostly; but
some were from the boarding-houses, waiting
the arrival of husbands and brothers who
went to their daily occupations in the city, and
came back again to country coolness and
quiet in the evening.
"Here comes the Sleepy Hollow," Evelyn
cried presently. " She will be the first boat in
to-night, and uncle and Mr. Maxwell will be
on board. Can't we wait to meet them 
You are not in a hurry to dress for tea? "
"No indeed," Mrs. Revere answered read.




VISIT TO MRS. REVERB.        75
ily. "I am glad of an excuse to stay here al.
ways; this view is so beautiful. There comes
Mrs. Maxwell now, and Miss Haviland is
with her."
"She always comes to meet her husband,"
said Evelyn. "I see her tripping down those
steps in the terrace every evening. They are
right under my window, you know, and I like
to watch her. She goes down that steep hill
with such a pretty, flying step, as if she was so
eager to get there and meet her husband."
"She is very fond of him," was Mrs. Revere's assenting comment.
"Here come the little Bartons with their
nurse, to meet their papa," cried Evelyn. "I
like to see children do that. Oh, and there
are the little Cubans  What pretty names
they have, Manuelo and Dolorita De gardol
And what pretty sparkling faces! "
She was quite unconscious that her own was
equally "pretty and sparkling" in her happy




76       THE STORY OF A SUMMER.
excitement, born of the new delight of doing
good. Mrs. Revere watched her, and listened
to her girlish flow of talk, with a sense of
something very sweet in it not unmingled with
sadness. Widowed and childless, she stood
isolated from the dearest relations of life, and
notwithstanding her elevated christian character, which accepted her lot and ennobled it,
she could not help feeling this isolation very
keenly at times. Her heart had often ached
with loneliness when she saw other mothers
with their daughters around them; but she
had never envied any mother her treasures, or
singled out any child with the secret wish that
she could call it her own. Never until to-day;
but now she looked at the fresh young face beside her, knowing it to be fitly companioned
with an earnest, pure, reverent nature, and
wished that Evelyn Yale could be to her as a
daughter.
Unconscious of her friend's thoughts, Evelyn




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ARRIVAL OF THE SLEEPY HOLLOW.








VISIT TO MRS. REVERE.       77
stood enjoying the scene around her, and the
remembrance of the one she had left behind.
The tiny, comical twin babies and their patient mother mingled oddly and yet pleasantly
with the bright little Cuban children in dark
ringlets and scarlet ribbons; with Mrs. IMaxwell and Miss Haviland in their pretty evening
dresses; with all the throng, and chatter, and
gayety that was increasing on the Green; yet
she seemed to see the one picture as. plainly
as the other, and enjoyed the pleasantness of
both, though it had such opposite sources.
The Sleepy Hollow had made her landing,
and the passengers were scattering to their different destinations; some going up the steep
main-street into the village, others rolling off
in carriages and "democrats," and a fewchiefly the gentleman-boarders from the Glen
— climbing the winding and irregular path
among the rocks that led up to the Green.
" There is Dr. Gresham I " Evelyn exclaimed




78      THE STORY OF A SUMMER.
suddenly. "He must have been to the city
to-day, but he doesn't go generally."
"Your uncle is following him up the rocks,"
said Mrs. Revere.
"And there's my husband I" cried Mrs.
Maxwell merrily, waving her scented handkerchief as another head rose in sight.
"'I see them on their winding way I "' sang
Miss Haviland. "Here comes my brother
with Mr. Delgardo. Dolorita, comb and meet
your father."
The dark-eyed little gypsy shook back her
long curls, and ran forward, holding Miss
Haviland's hand, to the brow of the hill. The
rest followed more leisurely, Evelyn's eye singling out — she did not ask herself why — Dr
Gresham's large figure, as he picked his way
up the difficult path. Suddenly she gave a
cry, and seized Mrs. Revere's arm.
"Dr. Gresham has stumbled on the rocks;
be is falling I "




VISIT TO MRS. RE VERB.      79
Her cry was echoed by a scream froem the
children, who stood nearer the edge of the
cliff; and a sudden confusion and clamor
arose, people hurrying to the place, and every
body asking every body else what was the matter. Mrs. Revere asked no questions; but she
and Evelyn went forward with swift steps, and
reached the rocky ledge just in time to see a
group of gentlemen trying to raise the doctor
into a sitting position. His face was white,
his head drooped on one side in a lifeless manner.
" He is badly hurt, I am afraid," Mr. Maxwell said; "it was a very awkward fall. Annie!"-to his wife who was looking down,
horror-stricken - " have you got any smellingsalts about you? He has fainted with the
pain. I think he has broken his leg."
"Oh, I haven't a thing; I'm sorry!" Mrs.
Maxwell exclaimed helplessly.
"I have some hartshorn." It was Mrs. Re.




80      THE STORY OF A SUMMER.
vere's quiet voice, and the next minute she was
kneeling beside the fainting man, applying the
pungent remedy to his nostrils. It roused him
from the stupor of pain.
"My leg- I have broken it!" he murmured
with an effort. "I can't stir."
"Don't try to," said Mrs. Revere gently.
There are plenty here to help you; the gentlemen will get a litter."
And acting on her suggestion, too or three
started off with all speed to the cottages beyond, to see what could be procured, while
another hurried on to the village to find a doctor. Evelyn stood mute with keen sympathy;
Mrs. Revere supported the drooping head until Mr. Hazleton and Mr. Maxwell came back
with a shutter and some blankets hastily
folded upon it; and her womanly hands were
as helpful as the stronger arms of the men, in
laying the wounded man tenderly and carefully upon it.




CHAPTER V.
DR. GRESHAM'S OPINION.
COMPOUND fracture of the thigh"
was the result of the surgeon's investigation, "and it was impossible to tell
how long he might be helpless. For weeks,
certainly, and perhaps for months. A difficult
case to handle I"
There was a great deal of excitement about
it at the Glen. "Those dreadful rocks!"
cried little Mrs. Maxwell, with a shiver. "I
have begged Charlie never to climb up them
again. It is a great deal better to go around
through the village."'- Up that hill Difficulty that they call Main
Street?" asked Mr. Hazleton. "Never, for
6               81




82       THB STORY OF A SUMMER.
me. The rocks are well enough, if one is only
a little careful of one's footing. I can't think
what the doctor was about to let himself fall."
"How dull it will be -for him, poor doctor!" said Mrs. Rushmore, with languid sympathy; "shut up with a broken limb all this
bright summer weather."
"You ladies will have a good opportunity
to show yourselves ministering angels," laughed
Mr. Pinckney. "What is it the poet says
"'When pain and anguish wring the brow,
A ministering angel thou I'
"Ah, that's poetry," said Fanny Rushmore,
"but the prose of it isn't.so nice. I haven't any
vocation for a sick-room; I tumble the medicine-bottles down, my dress rustles, and my
shoes creak, in spite of me; I am out of my
element altogether, and every body is glad to
be rid of me."
"Fanny, ysu will make Mr. Pinckney be.




DR. GRESHaPS OPINION.        8z
lieve you, if you keep on in that strain," her
mother interposed.
"Well, so he may!" and the young lady
shrugged her pretty shoulders. "I'm no sort of
use when any one is sick, mamma; you know it.
It only makes me blue to see them, and so I
keep out of the way. I'm excessively sorry
for poor Dr. Gresham, but I've no idea of
offering myself for his nurse I "
" We shall miss him very much," said Clara
Barton. "He was worth all the rest of you
gentlemen at croquet, or for a drive or a picnic. He was always getting up something
pleasant to amuse us; it's just too provoking
that he should have got that fall!'
A rather selfish view of the case, Evelyn
could not help thinking, as she sat silent
amidst the flow of conversation about her. It
was nevertheless the one which received most
consideration amongst the gay young people at
the Glen. The doctor was entertaining and




84       THE STORY OF A SUMMER.
obliging; he planned new amusements for
them; he was always at their service when he
was wanted; they "missed him" for this, and
after the first feeling of commiseration, and
the first formal visits of condolence, Dr.
Gresham dropped out of their thoughts pretty
generally, as being no longer available for
the grand object of life,- amusement.
There were honorable exceptions, of
course. Mrs. Maxwell made a duty of going
up every few days to inquire of his attendant
how the doctor was progressing. Occasionally
she went in, and brightened the room for a few
minutes with her pretty looks and cheerful
words. There were others who did as much;
but after all, his long confinement would have
been a dreary one indeed, except for Evelyn
and Mrs. Revere.
The first time that he was allowed to see
visitors, after the limb had been set, and the
crisis of fever passed, he asked particularly




DR. GRESHAM'S OPINIOI.       85
foI them. They came in, Mrs. Revere cheerful; serene, encouraging as always, the very
ideal of a "ministering angel " in a sick-room;
Evelyn full of eager sympathy.  His eyes
brightened at the sight of "the little rose-bud,"
and the visit cheered him so much as to make
a visible improvement. He begged that it
might be repeated; and so it grew into a daily
thing, by and by. They brought their sewing,
sometimes, and completed the twins' wardrobe
under the doctor's supervision; he taking a
hearty interest in its progress, and evincing as
much practically by a generous donation for
the poor mother.
Often they read to him. Evelyn's copy of
Jean Ingelow lay on his table permanently,
and she was called upon for her favorite
Brothers, and a Sermon" more than once.
He was never weary of her voice; it soothed
his pain and restlessness more effectually than
any thing; and knowing this, she never suffered




86      THE STORY OF A SUMMER.
him to see that she was weary of reading,
though it was often a visible truth.
The windows of his room overlooked the
croquet-lawn. The merry voices of the players
floated up to her ears, and she had at times a
wistful longing to join them. She was young,
and far from indifferent to the companionship
of her mates, or the innocent. pleasures which
they enjoyed. They were glad to have her
too; for she had made herself liked generally
in the house, and there was seldom any amusement proposed in which she was not invited to
take part. She accepted the invitation when
she could, but she had very frequently to make
the choice between duty and inclination; and
she would not give up her sewing for some
poor woman who needed the unfinished garments, her reading to the invalid, or her visits
to the cottages with Mrs. Revere, for the sake
of a dr ve, a boating excursion, or a game of,Aoquet.




DR. GRESH"aAS OPINION.      87
Mrs. Hazleton fretted and scolded at first;
declared it was absurd to take up a round of
pious duties in the summer-time, when one
came to the country to amuse one's self, and
threatened Evelyn more than once that she
should be sent back to her grandmother. But
after all, she secretly respected her niece all
the more for her quiet persistence in the line
of conduct she had marked out for herself.
And after a while she ceased to oppose her;
she found agreeable companions among the
lady-boarders, and was content to let her niece
find hers chiefly with Mrs. Revere.
So the summer days sped on, and the lesson
which Evelyn had learned from the good minister's sermon struck its roots deeper into her
heart, and blossomed out in honest purpose
and self-denying practice. She did not know
the good that she was doing, but she at least
kept her eyes open for opportunities, and tried
to neglect none that occurred. She had no




88       THE STORY OP A SUMMER.
suspicion of the change that she was working
gradually in Dr. Gresham's opinions. Her
gentle services to him, at the sacrifice of so
many of her natural enjoyments, and her simple yet steadfast faith and piety, had more influence upon him than even Mrs. Revere's
Christian conduct and profession.
"Women like you"- he spoke his thought
alone to her once, when Evelyn was not there
— "fall back upon religion naturally, as an
outlet for other feelings which are checked.
You are widowed, you are childless, you have
suffered the loss of all your precious things;
and with your deep, loving nature, you cannot
enjoy a life empty of love. So you reach your
arms out to heaven, and fill your heart with a
spiritual worship. I understand the necessity
and I watch its development witk a certain admiration. But it does not convince me that religion is the grand, universal good. This is
what I would have told you a mnonth ago."




DR. GRESHAM'S OPINION'.       89
"Well, and now?" asked Mrs. Revere, smiling, yet with a sudden, secret hope upspringing.
"Now, I will tell you that your little friend,
Miss Yale, has given me some different ideas.
She is a good little Christian, is she not?"
"The sincerest, the humblest that I know,"
said Mrs. Revere, warmly.
"So it seems to me. She does not obtrude
herself religiously, but her sweet little life is a
more convincing sermon to me than I eVer
heard-in a pulpit. She is very young and very
pretty; life shows its cheerfulest aspects to
her, I fancy. She has had no losses, nor privations; no lack of love, nor necessity of compensation."
"None that I know of," Mrs. Revere assented. "She is an orphan, you know, but her
parents died in infancy, and her grandmother
idolizes her. She has other relatives, and love
and consideration in plenty. Yes, her life has
been very happy."




91     aTHE STORY OF A SUMMER.
"Yet in all her youth and happiness she
seeks religion, and finds it —for that is very
evident - her best possession. Inspired by it,
she makes a sacrifice of herself, day after day,
for a grumbling old man. She runs the risk
of offending others whom it would be pleasant
for her to please, and finds enjoyment in things
that would be a burden if they were not dictated by this all-pervading principle. I do not
make it clear to you, perhaps, but like King
Agrippa I ath tempted sometimes to say to
her, My good little girl, almost thou persuadest
me to be a Christian."
It would be difficult to describe Mrs. Revere's emotions as she listened to this. She
understood him, and thanked God with a full
heart for his infinite grace, which in so many
diverse ways, by so many different avenues,
sought out and reached men's souls. She had
no feeling of petty disappointment that it was
Evelyn's influence, not hers which had pre



DR. GRESHAM'S OPINION.      91
vailed. She only prayed that the work which
his Holy Sl.irit had begun, through whatever
instrument, might be completed and made perfect to his glory.
She went down after a while to look for Evelyn, who had had letters to write that afternoon. Mrs. Hazleton told her that she had
gone to the village to post her letters, and had
been absent quite long enough to have returned again, unless possibly she had joined
some of the young ladies in a walk. Clara
Barton and Fanny Rushmore had gone to the
bathing-house; Evelyn might be with them.
Mrs. Revere thought she would take a walk
herself. She might meet Evelyn, and she felt
an unusual longing to talk with her. Not that
she meant to tell her what Dr. Gresham had
said of her; that would destroy the uncon
sciousness which added so much to her grace
in his eyes.
She walked down nearly to the post-office,




92      THE STORY OF A SUMMER.
but saw nothing of her; and then came a -remembrance of the twins, whom she had not
seen for a week, and she turned aside toward
the path that led to the cottages by the railroad. Half-way down the hill-side, a little boy
ran up to her with an eager cry:
"Please ma'am, will you come to Mrs.
Clark's house? Her baby's got a fit, and the
young lady that comes with you is there. She
sent me to fetch you."
Mrs. Revere quickened her steps.  Mrs.
Clark was the mother of the twins, and this little fellow was a neighbor's child to whom she
had often spoken kindly.
"Are you sure it is Miss Evelyn who is
there? " she asked, wondering.
"It's the young lady that comes with you,"
the child persisted. And Mrs. Revere hurried
on, in some anxiety about Evelyn as well as
in haste to do what she might for the infant.
A wailirg cry struck her ear as she entered the




DR. GRESHAM'S OPINION.        98
cottage. A group of curious children were
hanging round the door, and two or three women were in the room itself; but Evelyn's delicate face and figure shone out in striking contrast among them. She was sitting with one
of the twins in her lap; the mother was hushing the other at her breast, and crying bitterly
herself. The child that Evelyn held was very
still, and a gray, pallid look was settling over
its little pinched features. Mrs. Revere saw at
a glance that it was dead.
"I am so glad you have come! " was Evelyn's tearful exclamation as her friend approached. "This dear little baby- oh! isn't
it pitiful?"
Her voice broke; the quivering lips and
pale, excited face showed her keen distress,
though she struggled to maintain her usual selfcontrol.
"What is the matter? " Mrs. Revere asked,
greatly shocked. "They were both so well




94       THE  STORY OF A SUMMER.
when I was here last. Why did you not send
me word when the child was ill?"
"It was took all of a sudden, ma'am;" the
weeping mother checked her sobs to answer.
"It only seemed a little dull like, this morning,
and I thought it was the hot weather. But
when the young lady came a while ago, it was
just in a fit. And she took it and put it in
warm water and tried to bring it to, but it was
gone, in a minute like. It died in her arms,
ma'am. God bless her for trying to save it I "
There was nothing to be done but to prepare the little body for its last resting-place-;
and Evelyn assisted to bathe the tiny limbs,
and robe them in one of the little slips which
her own hands had made. It was the first
time in her life that she had come so close to
death; it gave her inexpressible thoughts.
They stayed with the mother till- the twilight was gathering, shadowy and dim, around
the little shrouded figure. Mrs. Revere talked




DR. GRESHAM'S OPINION.       95
and prayed with her, and Evelyn felt as if she
was lifted above the world, in a holier atmosphere where the Spilit of God was a visible
presence.
"How did it happen that you were there?"
Mrs. Revere asked, when they went home si.
lently together. "It was a great comfort, but
you never told me that you were going to-day."
"I did not know, myself. I went out to
post my letters, and then I saw some oranges
which I thought would be good for poor old
Jane,- you know she is so fond of them, —
and so I went on till I came to Mrs. Clark's
place. And I knew you would like to hear
about the twins, so I went in. But I never
dreamed of what would happen; I never shall
forget the look that came into that little face
when -tlle soul went out!"
She stopped, unable to express the feelings
that rose within her, and Mrs. Revere took her
hand and clasped it in tender sympathy.




96      THE STORY OFP  SUMMER.
"The first time we walked together," she
said softly, "you told me that you had only
lived for yourself hitherto. Now I want to tell
you how good and great a work you are doing,
in the effort you are making to renounce self
and live for others. God has blessed you
more than you know; and you may thank him,
and take courage."




CHAPTER VL
A NEW HOME.
XT  is not often, or to many lives, that great
a   occasions come of testing principle or
v proving faith. It is in the improvement
of the daily small opportunities which occur to
all, that the Christian who is in earnest to
work for God, to do more then others, is recognized. Evelyn's influence had been felt in the
house, from that first Sunday evening when
even the people who sneered at piety were
moved by her reading, and believed in her sincerity. It had not grown less since, but the
contrary.
Her regular church-going with Mrs. Revere
was an example that began to be followed.




98      THE STORY OF A SUMMER.
Miss Haviland joined them one Sunday, with
an ingenuous little confession. "You make
me ashamed of myself, Evelyn, and I'm going
to make an effort to recover my self-respect.
May I walk with you, Mrs. Revere? I have
made up my mind not to stay from church any
longer."
Of course she was welcomed, and the next
Sunday Mrs. Maxwell and husband, and Mrs.
Barton with two of her daughters, made their
appearance on the piazza in church attire,when the bells began to ring. Others followed
the example instinctively, - there is so much in
mutual attraction  - and the minister who had
preached so forcibly to one young heart had
the opportunity to reach others also; so more
good seed was sown, and its fruits were seen in
a tacit agreement to " keep the Sabbath holy"
at the Glen; at least to a greater extent than
had been known before.
Evelyn was not especially fond of children;




A NEWp HOME.            99
she liked to watch them at a little distance,
with a certain enjoyment of their grace and
gayety and pretty looks; but she did not concern herself about them, or care to let them
know her, until a word from Mrs. Revere took
effect.
" Children are opportunities to me," she
said. "One can drop seed in a heart that is
won."
And Evelyn saw how the little Delgardos
hung about her, and a word from her would
make peace in the noisiest contentions of the
little Bartons, who were rather turbulent
amongst each other. She began to notice
them, and by degrees - children are easily attracted -she made herself acquainted with
them, their differing tempers and habits, and
the quality of the soil for seed-dropping. The
Cubans had no mother, and were left most of
the day to the care of their nurse, who was a
conscientious woman, but common-place aad;




100      THE STORY OP A SUMMER.
uneducated. She took excellent care of them,
as far as she knew how, and their father petted and played with them for half an hour
when he came back at night. But it was only
from Mrs. Revere -and Evelyn afterwards -
that they got something like mother-love and
interest: the gentle twilight talk, the reading
of little books, and telling of Bible stories, and
leading upward of the childish mind to
thoughts of God.
Dolorita was afraid of the dark, and it sometimes happened that she was put to bed and
left alone when her nurse wanted to spend an
evening out. Evelyn heard her crying once,
as she passed the door on her way down-stairs
to join the usual pleasant gathering on the
west piazza. It was, this night, a little more
pleasant than usual, for her uncle had brought
up some brilliant Japanese lanterns and hung
them, as it grew dark, in the boughs of the
miuntain-ash trees, whose graceful foliage and




THrE  REW HOME.          101
clusters of green berries were picturesquely illuminated by the shifting light and color. All
sorts of fantastic shadows were thrown into the
piazza, upon the light dresses and bright faces
of the ladies; and a corresponding merriment
took possession of the party. They sang otl
songs, they told quaint stories, they laughed
and chattered in innocent and harmonious enjoyment, which Evelyn was sharing to the full
Her aunt sent her up-stairs for a shawl, and it
was on her way down again, that she heard
Dolorita's sobs smothered under the bedclothes.
-It was an instant impulse, of course, to go in
and comfort her; and the' cause of the trouble
being explained, the determination was equally
prompt to give up her own enjoyment and remain with the child. "Don't cry, dear, I will
stay with you. Wait one minute till I take
this shawl to my aunt, and then I will come
back to you," she said, soothingly.




102      THE STORY OP A SUMMER.
And Doldrita hushed her sobs, and sat up in
bed in eager delight, while Evelyn's light feet
flew down to the piazza. Mrs. Revere made a
place for her, but Evelyn whispered in her ear,
" I want to stay up-stairs for a special reason.
Phase make it right with aunty, if she misses
me."
Mrs. Hazleton was in the full tide of animated conversation, and only noticed her niece
with a careless "Thank you dear," when the
Shetland shawl was wrapped about her. Mrs.
Revere's smile, loving and significant, gave her
assent, and Evelyn ran away again, although
two or three voices called after her importunately. It was' something of an effort to resist
them, especially as she had spent the afternoon
in reading to Dr. Gresham, and felt the need
of a little recreation. But, there was no sign
of sacrifice in her cheerful behavior to the
little girl.
"I am  not sleepy," Dolorita said. "My




THE NzrW HOoEM.         103
eyes fly open, and I can't be still.' Won't you
please talk. to me, Miss Yale? Tell me a
story about sbomething."
And Evelyn answered kindly, "To be sure I
will; you shall stay awake as long as you like,
and I will tell you stories. Do you know
about the ugly duck?"' No, indeed,. but I should like to!"
So Evelyn told her Hans Anderson's pretty
story; and then from that, she slipped into Bible stories, and some sweet, serious talk about
God and heaven, and the tender Shepherd
who laid down his life for his flock, and who,
living again in heaven, watches over his little lambs with loving care.
There are very few children who are not interested and tenderly touched by talk like
this. Dolorita's heart swelled as she listened
and asked questions, and begged to hear it all
over again, and promised to try to be good.
It might be only a present impression; she




104      HEn STORY OP A SUMMER.
might quarrel with Manuelo the next day, or
be naughty to nurse just the same, —do not we
older ones yield to our temptations in spitevof
many resolves — but nevertheless something
was left to germinate.
To multiply instances of the little daily occasions for doing good which Evelyn improved, would be to weary, perhaps, the readers of her summer's history, which we must
bring to its close. Her acts of charity and
devotion and self-denial were all of the simplest —such as fall within every one's sphere
to accomplish -and all performed with silent
humility; yet they did not fail of their effect.
They stamped her Christian character and
gave it influence, so that her religion was recognized and respected even by those who had
no sympathy with it.
Dr. Gresham was not one of these any
longer. The religious impressions first imr
planted by a pious mother, forgotten after.




THER  ETw HOME.        105
ward through long years of worldliness and
skepticism, and now again revived by Evelyn's
unconscious agency, were deepening daily
through the same gentle influence. He did
not know that Evelyn prayed for him nightly,
naming him with all her dearest friends; nor
did she know how her prayers were being answered, until one day it came upon her suddenly.
He was recovering the use of his limb
slowly, was able to sit up all day, and to walk
from one room to the other with some assistance, though, not yet to go down-stairs. Eirelyn had lent him her shoulder to lean upon
more than once; it was not a very sturdy one,
but the doctor liked to test its willing strength.
It was pleasant to him to be led about by this
little girl whom he had grown to love with fatherly tenderness. He had been walking to
and fro in his sitting-room for a little while
one day, and sat down at length to rest, still




106    THE' STORY OP A SUMMER.
keeping his hand upon her patient shoulder.
Mrs. Revere sat by the window with a book in
her hand, not reading but rather watching
him; for there was something peculiar in the
look with which he regarded Evelyn, and a secret intuition of what he was pondering came
to her.
"Do you remember" he asked presently,
turning to her, "something that I told you not
long since about this little girl here  "
"Very well, indeed," Mrs. Revere answered
gently.
"What was it?"' Evelyn asked, from the
natural impulse, but she too was startled when
she looked up to him. His face was working
with some strong emotion, his lips trembled,
and he could not easily control his voice to
speak.
"I told her," he said presently, looking
straight into Evelyn's eyes, with a dewy light
in his own, "that you had almost persuaded




THE  NBEW HOME.        107
me to be a Christian. Now I tell you, my
child, that you have quite and altogether persuaded me. From this time henceforth,- so
help me God, I will take his vows upon me,
and spend the remainder of my life according
to this beginning."
"Now, Eva,"- Mrs. Revere dropped her
book, and came to the young girl with an irresistible impulse, - "you never can say again
that you have done nothing for your Master.
You have won a soul to Christ; is not this
something to rejoice over all your life  "
Evelyn threw her arms around her with an
inexpressible, wondering happiness. "I am so
glad I But how have I done it? I?" she repeated, utterly uncomprehending. "It is you
he means, you are so goodl I have never
dared to say a word, to do any thing but
pray."
"Have you done that, truly?" Dr. Gresham
asked, smiling happily through tears that he




108     THE STORY OF I SUMMER.
was not ashamed of. "I was -sure you had
prayed for me; I felt it in my heart."
"Yes indeed, always; every night since you
were hurt," she answered warmly. "But I
didn't think - I didn't dream - oh I it is too
much to believe  "
Her voice failed; she hid her face on Mrs.
Revere's shoulder and cried irrepressibly; but
they were the happiest tears she had ever shed
in her life. Whoever has had, in any degree,
a similar experience, will need no interpreter
for her emotions.
It was a real and- earnest conversion with
Dr. Gresham, no sudden or evanescent impulse. His long confinement and the near approach to the things of eternity had compelled
thought; and Evelyn's influence had won him
to an open profession. With all his heart and
mind he now accepted the salvation of Christ,
and consecrated the remainder of his life to
the service of the Master so long neglected.




THt N~EW HOMBE.         109
When it became known in the house - he
was not ashamed to let it be known, and
could comprehend now the exaltation with
which Mrs. Revere sang her favorite hymn -
there were comment and wonder, of course, but
no sneering. A better and purer sympathy
prevailed, and the matter was talked over reverently, even by the most careless ones.
"It's Evelyn Yale's doing," said Fanny
Rushmore, in her out-spoken way. "If any
body could persuade me to be good, she would
be the one, for she's the only real Christian
I know."
"Thank you, Fanny," said her mother, with
a rather hurt tone. "You make sweeping accusations."
"Oh, mamma, you know  what I mean.
You're a Christian, of course; so am I; but
we're not like Evelyn."
"I wonder what you have to say about Mrs.
Revere," said Miss Haviland a little indig




110     THE STORY OF A SUMMER.
nantly. "I agree with you that Evelyn is
good and sincere, a dear little thing every
way; but Mrs Revere is my idea of a true
Christian. It is my opinion that she deserves
all the credit of Dr. Gresham's change."
" I forgot her," Fanny acknowledged. "She
is lovely, but then"-and she unconsciously
repeated Dr. Gresham's argument  "she is
so much older, and has had trouble and all
that, to make her religious. Evelyn is like us,
and she makes us all ashamed by the difference."
"How clear you are, and logical " Mrs.
Rushmore laughed.
"Never mind, so long as I know what I
mean. I don't expect you to understand me,
mamma."
She turned away carelessly, —Miss Fanny
was never very respectful to her lady-mamma
- and asked Miss Haviland to take a walk
with her. It was near the hour for the even



THE NEW HOMEB.          111
ing mail; so they decided to walk to the postoffice, and collect such letters as might arrive
for the inhabitants of the Glen. It was one of
the little excitements of the day, the calling
for and distributing these letters; and there
was generally a little group of e:xpectants
on the piazza, waiting the return of the selfappointed mail carriers.
Evelyn was there to-night with Dolorita,
who  clung to  her especially  now-a-days,
perched upon her knee.
"There come the letters I " cried the child.
"Miss Fanny has a handful. Are you going
to get any, I wonder?"
"I hope so," said Evelyn. "I want onefrom my grandmother."
"I wish I had a grandmother," Dolorita
chattered; "I have only got papa and Manuelo; nobody else. Do you love your grandmother dearly?"
"Very dearly," Evelyn returned. "I haven't




112     TfE STORY OP A SUMMER.
any papa or any brother, you know, and my
grandmamma is the sweetest old lady-in the
world; Some time, when we all go back to the
city, I shall fetch you to see her. She is fond
of little girls."
"How nice!" Dolorita clapped her hands.'I wish we were going to-morrow."
"Perhaps we will,'" Evelyn said, absently;
then recollected herself and laughed. "I am
talking nonsense, Dolorita, I was thinking of
my letters. Did you bring me one, Fanny?"
as Miss Rushmore came up the steps of the
piazza.
" Are you an' expectation' to-night? What's
the use of having letters, just for the nuisance
of answering them? " asked that young lady.
"It isn't a nuisance to me. Give me my
letter."
"Who told you I had any for you?"
"I saw it in your eyes."
"Take it out of my eyes then," said Fanny




THIE NEW HOME.           113
mischievously. "You can't get it from  my
hands till you tell me who wrote it."
"My grandmother,"' said Evelyn promptly.
"Now give it to me, Fanny; don't tease."
"Your grandmother! that's a very nice
story," exclaimed  Miss  Rushmore.  "She
writes a very masculine hand, then, Miss Eva,
that's all I have to say. It doesn't look in the
least like a letter from one's grandmother, not
in the least."
She tossed the square, handsomely-directed
letter over to Evelyn with a'bantering laugh,
little dreaming what sad tidings for her friend
lay under the masculine hand-writing. Evelyn took it with a sense of disappointment;
she- had an especial longing to hear from her
grandmother to-night, and this was only from
her guardian, a mere business epistle, probably. She opened it carelessly,, but the very
first words arrested her attention sharply.'Your grandmother is suddenly' and dan.
gerously ill."




114     THE STORY OP A SUMMER.
Evelyn did not wait to read more. She
crushed the letter in her hands and ran upstairs to her own room. A terrible foreboding
seized upon her, and she must find strength in
prayer to bear it. On her knees, with the
yearning entreaty,- "if it be possible, let this
cup pass from me," -she read the whole story,
and found that her worst fears were true.
Death was at hand, and soon, very soon, she
must stand quite orphaned and alone in the
world.
There was a knock at her door, and Mrs.
Hazleton hurried in, pale and excited; she
too had had letters conveying the sad tidings
and urging their instant departure.
"You know it all, Eva?" She saw it in her
face. "We must go immediately, you know.
The next train leaves in half- an hour, and you
will have only time to change your dress. I
have sent for a carriage."
She hurried away to make her own prepara



THE NE W HOME.           115
tions, and Evelyn stood still in a sort of stupor
of despair. She felt suddenly crushed and
helpless. What would her life be without this
nearest and tenderest interest? How could
she bear the loss of the only mother-love she
had ever known?  Why had she left her and
lost these last precious weeks?
A soft voice, full of tenderest sympathy,
called her.  She went mechanically to the
door, and Mrs. Revere clasped her with a
close, fond embrace.
"My darling!  My darling!" she murmured; and the words thrilled Evelyn through.all her despair. Mrs. Revere never gave such
lightly. "I know what has happened," she
said, " and I am praying for you with all my
heart. God give you strength and comfort;
he can, he will, my precious child! "
Evelyn had no words to answer. She could
only sob out her grief upon the loving heart
that shared it with a strange sense of sweet.




116     THE STORY OF A SUMMER.
ness in this rare tenderness. She had longed
for it many a time; it was given to her in all
the fullness that her heart could desire.
But there was little time to spare. She had
to dress for the journey, and Mrs. Revere
packed her traveling-bag with the few necessaries that she could take with her, and made
all the little preparations that Evelyn, in her
bewilderment, could not think of. Her very
presence was strength and soothing to the
young girl, so excited with anxious dread and
suspense. She wondered how she could have
endured that hour without it.
There was brief time for leave-taking, but
Evelyn flew up to Dr. Gresham's room and
got his fervent "God bless you;" and the
whole household gathered round her as she
went down to the carriage, with kind expressions of' sympathy and earnest wishes that the
trouble might be averted. Fanny Rushmore
kissed het with a sort of passionate pity, not




T'HE NEW HOME.           117
able to speak for real feeling; and little Dolorita clung to her, crying, till the child had to
be taken away. But Mrs. Revere's kiss was
the last upon her lips, and her whispered
words, "Remember, whatever happens, next to
God, you belong to me," lingered in her heart
all the way, and brought a sense of comfort and
love still left to her, in the midst of all her grief.
Three days later, the tale of life was told,
and Evelyn's bereavement was complete. She
had come in time for many last sweet words
and deeds; her grandmfiother died with love
and blessing for her, - the last articulate sounds
upon her lips. Now in her place lay a white
image, cold and awful in rigid stillness; and
the orphan girl wept alone with the desolation
that motherless children feel. She had never
missed her own mother; all her life had been
shielded and satisfied by this love which was
now taken from her; and its loss was the first
real gri f she had ever known.




118     THE STOR Y OP A4 SUMMER.
The world seemed vtry empty to her, sitting
alone here with the shrouded figure in the
chamber of death below. She would have a
home with her uncle, and be properly cared
for, of course; but there was little sympathy
between Mrs. Hazleton and herself; she
would have to live within herself, and learn to
do without the constant tenderness, the sympathy with every feeling, the indulgent comprehension, which had been part of her existefice
before. She was not faithless or despairing;
she did not rebel against God who had done
this thing. She bent her heart to his will, instead, and prayed humbly and patiently that
she might do and bear it in all meekness.
Nevertheless, sorrow -and loneliness can not be
set aside, even when accepted as God's gift.
There would be no grace in resignation if the
loss was not felt; and Evelyn could not help
feeling the sharpness of hers.
The memory of Mrs. Revere's parting words




THB NKERW bOE.          119
-it seemed an age since they had been
spoken — came back to her with a wistful
longing. "If I truly did belong to her I " was
the unuttered yearning; and a swift vision of
what her life might be- guided, governed,
directed in good works and charity by a nature so elevated — flashed before her imagination. Was it a premonition of what would be?
AS if soul had answered to soul, Mrs. Revere came, then and there.
The same light tap at her door, the same
soft voice which had called to her in her first
trouble, three days ago, gave warning now of
the earthly presence that she most longed for;
and once more Evelyn lay folded to the true
heart that beat for her with almost mother-love.
"I could not stay away from you, my child,
I could not leave you alone in your sorrow,"
was the tender greeting. "Do not you belong
to me now more than to any one else? Some



120     THE STOR Y otV A SUMMER.
thing tells me that it is so, and that you will
be given to me soon."
She needed no other response than the
close embrace with which Evelyn clung to her,
as a child who has found its mother truly;
and her already formed resolve was put into
action at the earliest moment afterwards.
It did not meet with any determined opposition. Mrs. Hazleton was fond of her husband's niece, and perfectly willing" to do her
duty by her," as she would have said. But
she was also fond of her ease, and not anxious to assume any responsibilities that might
as well be avoided: It was an honor not to be
despised, moreover, that a person of Mrs. Revere's influence and position should wish to
adopt Evelyn. It implied future social advantages for herself, and was well worthy of consideration.
So, being considered duly, it ended as Mrs.




THE REW HOME.           121
Revere and Evelyn wished it; and the -childless mother took the motherless girl to her.
own home, as she had taken her to her heart
long ago.
Her story for us ends here; but for her begins a new life, happy and beautiful and good
beyond that of many; not a life of mere grace
and refinement, and returning love for love,for "if ye salute your brethren only, what do
ye more than others?" but one whose object
and effort is to fulfill the law of Christ by bearing the burden of others, and in all things to
"glorify her Father which is in heaven."
DEC,31  1917








CHOICE BOOKS
FOR READERS OF ALL AGES
Pansy Books.
The Pansy for x888. With colored frontispiece. Edited by
Pansy.
More than 400 pages of reading and pictures for children of
eight to fifteen years an various lines of interest. Quarto, boards,
1.25.
Pansy Sunday Book for 1889. With colored frontispiece.
Edited by Pansy. Quarto, boards, 1.25.
Just the thing for children on Sunday afternoon, when the whole
family are gathered in the home to exchange helpful thought and
gain new courage for future work and study which the tone and
excellence of these tales impart.
Pansy's Story  Book.  By Pansy.  Quarto, boards,:.25.
Made up largely of Pansy's charming stories with an occasional
sketch or poem by some other well-known children's author to
give variety.
Mother's Boys and Girls. By Pansy. Quarto, boards,
1.25.
A book full of stories for boys and girls, most of them short, so
all the more of them. Easy words and plenty of pictures.
Pansy Token (A); or An Hour with Miss Streator. For
Sunday School teachers. 24mo, paper, xI cts.
Young Folks Stories of American History and
Home Life. Edited by Pansy. Quarto, cover in colors, 75cts.
Sketches, tales and pictures on New-World subjects.
Young Folks Stories of Foreign Lands. Edited
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Sketches, tales and pictures on Old-World subjects.
Stories and Pictures from the Life of Jesus.
By Pansy. - i2mo, boards, 5o cts.
The life of Jesus as recorded in the four gospels simplified and
unified for children.
A  Christmas Time. By Pansy. T2mo, boards, Is cts.
A Christmas story full of Christmas trees and sleigh-rides. Its
esson iN the joy to be got in helping others.




Illustrated Stories for Young
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Young Folks' Cyclopedia of Stories. Quarto,
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Contains in one large book the following stories with many illustrations: Five Little Peppers, Two Young Homesteaders, Royal
Lowrie's Last Year at St. Olaves, The Dogberry Bunch, Young
Rick, Nan the New-Fashioned Girl, Good-for-Nothing Polly and
The Cooking Club of Tu-Whit Hollow.
What the Seven Did; or, the Doings of the Wordsworth
Club. By Margaret Sidney. Quarto, boards, I.75.
The Seven are little girl neighbors who meet once a week at
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Me and My Dolls. By L. T. Meade. Quarto, go cts.
A family history. Some of the dolls have had queer adventures.
Twelve full-page illustrations by Margaret Johnson.
Little Wanderers in Bo-Peep's World. Quarto,
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Polly and the Children. By Margaret Sidney. Boards,
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The story of a funny parrot and two charming children. The
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a medal after the fire.
Five Little Peppers. By Margaret Sidney. 12mo, 1.50.
Story of five little children of a. fond, faithful and capable
" mamsie."  Full of young life and family talk.
Seal Series. xo vols., boards, double lithographed covers,
quarto.
Rocky Fork, Old Caravan Days, The Dogberry Bunch, by
Mary H. Catherwood; The Story of Honor Bright and Royal
Lowrie's Last Year at St. Olaves, by Charles R. Talbot; Their
Club and Ours, by John Preston True; From the Hudson to the
Neva, by David Ker; The Silver City, by Fred A. Ober; Two
Young Homesteaders, by-Theodora Jenness; The Cooking Club
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Cats' Arabian Nights. By Abby Morton Diaz. Quarto,
cloth, I.?75; boards, 1.25.
The wonderful cat story of cat stories told by Pussyanita that
saroved the lives of all the cats.




Science Stories.
My Wonder Story. By Anne K. Benedict. Quarto,
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A young folks' science story based on physiology. A high-school
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Look-About Club. By Mary E. Bamford. Quarto,
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The club is a family given to the study of animal life. Under
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My Land and Water Friends. By Mary E. Baaford. Seventy illustrationsby Bridgman. Boards, I.25.
An out-door book giving delicious little accounts of strange and
familiar creatures. The book is a treat for children under ten.
Overhead. By Annie Moore and Laura D. Nichols.
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A trip to the moon, Saturn, the sun and various other stations
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Underfoot. By Laura D. Nichols. Quarto, boards, 1.25.
Peeps into the earth we live on, especially at its caves, volcanoes,
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Up Hill and Down Dale. By Laura D. Nichols.
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A story of nature. Juvenile reatders will be very much pleased
with little Nelly Marlow and her life at Hickory Corners.
Eyes Right. By Adam  Stwin. Quarto, boards, 3.25.
A little fellow with an eager, exploring soul back of his eyes; to
make them see is the author's delight, and he loves both a good
romp and a quiet talk with the boys.
Nelly Marlow  in Washington. By Laura D. Nichols. Quarto, boards, 1.25.
Nelly goes to Washington and takes her friends along and ends
in the Adirondacks. She learns history at one place and natural
nce at the other.




Young Folks' Illustrated
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Wide Awake Volume Z. Quarto, boards, s.75.
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Chit Chat for Boys and Girls. Quarto, boards, 75 ets.
A volume of selected pieces upon every conceivable subject.
As a distinctive feature it devotes considerable space to Home
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Good Cheer for Boys and Girls.
Short stories, sketches, poems, bits of history, biography and
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Our Little Men and Women for 1888. Quarto,
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No boys and girls who have this book can be ignorant beyond
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Babyland for 1888. Quarto, boards, 75 cts.
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Kings and Queens at Home, By Frances A. Humphrey. Quarto, boards, so cts.
Short-story accounts of living royal personages.
Queen Victoria at Home. By Frances A. Humphrey.
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Pen picture of a noble woman. It will aid in educating the
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Stories about Favorite Authors.  By Frances A.
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Little literature lessons for little boys and girls.
Child Lore. Edited by Clara Doty Bates. Quarto, cloth,
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More than So,Qoo copies sold. The most successful quarto for
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Helpful Books for Young Folks.
Danger Signals.  By Rev. F. E. Clark, President of
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The enemies of youth from the business manas standpoint.
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Marion Harland's Cookery forBeginners. s2mo,
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The untrained housekeeper needs such directions as will not
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Bible Stories. By Lauiie Loring. 4to, boards, 35 cts.
Very short stories with pictures. The Creation, Noah and the
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The Magic Pear. Oblong, 8vo, boards, 75 cts.
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What O'Clock Jingles.  By Margaret Johnson. Oblong, 8vo, boards, 75 cts.
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Ways for Boys to Make and Do Things. 60 cts.
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Our Young  Folks at Home.  4to, boards, I.oo.
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Peep of Day Series. 3 vols., I.2o each.
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Home Primer. Boards, square, 8vo, 50 cts.
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Natural History.
Stories and Pictures of Wild Animals. By Anna
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Big letters, big pictures and easy stories of elephants, lions,
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Life and Habits of Wild Aniimals. Quarto, cloth,
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The very best book young folks can have if they are at all interested in Natural History. If they are not yet interested it-will
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Children's Out-Door Neighbors. By Mrs. A. E.
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Three instructive and interesting books: Children with Animals,
Children with Birds, Children with Fishes. The author has the
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Some Animal Pets. By Mrs. Oliver Howard. Quarto,
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The experiences of a Colorado family with young, wild and
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the book itself, apart from its contents, is attractive. Full page
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Tiny Folk in Red and Black. Quarto, boards, 35 cts.
The tiny folk are ants and they make as interesting a study as
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The book gives a full and graphic description of their many wise
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eyes and ears open.
My Land and Water Friends.  By Mary E. Bamford. Seventy illustrations by Bridgman. Quarto, cloth, 1.50.
The frog opens the book with a "talk" about himself, in the
course of which he tells us all about the changes through which
he passes before he arrives at perfect froghood. Then the grass.
hopper talks and is followed by others, each giving his view of
life from his own individual standpoint.