THE UNIVERSITY OF 
 
 NORTH CAROLINA 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 THE WILMER COLLECTION 
 
 OF CIVIL WAR NOVELS 
 
 PRESENTED BY 
 
 RICHARD H. WILMER, JR. 
 
Ktu. 
 
U/y. 
 
 / 
 
 ^^^/r^/f-^r^ 
 

 
-Tr^J^i^ 
 
 
 ''-'. r^ 
 
WALTER MAETIN 
 
 OR 
 
 Sh^ inttmjf t\t^ 3tU^h M& tto d^^mp. 
 
 PUBLISHED BY THE 
 AMEEICAN TKACT SOCIETY, 
 
 150 NASSAU-STKEET, NEW YORK. 
 
ExTEEED according to Act of Congress, in the year 18G4, by the 
 American Tract Society, in tlie Clerk's Office of the District Court 
 of the United States for the Southern District of New York. 
 
This narrative, truthM in its facts and 
 simple in its style, is given to the boys 
 and girls of our country by one who well 
 knows the persons described, and who 
 hopes their history may be an induce- 
 ment to others to seek early the paths of 
 peace and true wisdom. 
 
 531940 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 The Wrestling ---- 7 
 
 CHAPTEE n. 
 Studying and Improving - -- 22 
 
 CHAPTER m. 
 The Moral Family 38 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 The Conversion - 52 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 The Last Farewell 67 
 
 CHAPTER YI. 
 From the Mill to the School 77 
 
 CHAPTER Vn. 
 The Chastening-- 93 
 
 CHAPTER Yin. 
 Progress - — 106 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 The Enlistment 122 
 
6 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 The Camp 137 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 The Mission 155 
 
 CHAPTER Xn. 
 Walter's Conclusion - 172 
 
WALTER MARTIN. 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 THE WKESTLING. 
 
 Down tlie great stairs they went; 
 down, down, one flight, two flights, three ; 
 men and women, boys and girls, with a 
 few elderly faces mingled in the" motley 
 crowd ; but the great throng principally 
 composed of youthful forms. These went 
 tripping along with buoyant steps, not- 
 withstanding the labor they had been 
 performing; for youth is elastic, and as 
 they stepped out into the open air, and 
 the fresh breeze fanned their cheeks, 
 they laughed as gayly as though their 
 work had been pastime instead of toil. 
 
8 WALTEE MAETIN. 
 
 The bell of the large manufactory told 
 them it was the hour for dinner, and here 
 they were, the operatives of the Moni- 
 mock Mills, where great webs of cotton 
 sheetings were each day prepared for the 
 market of the world. Two or three hun- 
 dred women filed along, generally with 
 the sweet freshness of youth shining out 
 under their simple cape-bonnets or dilap- 
 idated straws, with shawls of every con- 
 ceivable texture and^hue, and dresses of 
 chintz or delaine, soiled or clean, tattered 
 or whole, according to the characteristics 
 of the wearers. Men were there too, in 
 greasy overalls, with slouched caps; or 
 neat and tidy, because the unsightly 
 overdress had been left hanging in the 
 mill, while they went home in a clean 
 suit with a manly air. 
 
 How refreshing was the pure air. 
 How glad was each one to escape the 
 noisy workhouse. And yet, labor there 
 
THE WBESTLING. 9 
 
 was more agreeable than in some situa- 
 tions. Many a merry laugh echoed within 
 those walls ; many a lifetime friendship 
 was formed and cemented there. 
 
 But if a few characters of noble mould 
 were there, it must be acknowledged that 
 the main current of thought was low. 
 The coarse jest, the rough words, and the 
 worthless song all furnished proof of the 
 uneducated and unsanctified state of the 
 hearts within. To a person who reflected 
 that each soul here was destined to live 
 for ever, when earth and its transient 
 pleasures have passed away, it was pain- 
 ful to witness the great want of serious 
 thought, or of desire to prepare for the 
 last great change. 
 
 There was one wish common to all who 
 toiled here, and that was, to receive the 
 wages of their labor, the money due for 
 continued diligence. For this they all 
 wrought, the young and the old ; for this 
 
10 WALTEE MAETIX. 
 
 they spent their breath, and shut them- 
 selves up with the scent of the oil and 
 the click of flying wheels. 
 
 Xot that all used their money with 
 discretion, for some wasted it as snow 
 wastes before a noonday sun ; but all 
 wanted it. For it children were i^laced 
 here; chi]dren who ought to haye been 
 in school were obliged to work their daily 
 round, compelled by avaricious fathers or 
 poverty-bound mothers, or because they 
 were orphans, and must earn their own 
 living in the world. 
 
 Down they come now, a band by 
 themselves, shouting, tumbling, tripping 
 and jostling each other about with the 
 wildness and abandon of the untrained 
 spirits of headstrong boys who had been 
 curbed for five hours, and now were 
 liberated for a brief season of freedom. 
 Like young colts loosened from the stall, 
 and permitted to caper and frisk in the 
 
THE WRESTLING. 11 
 
 green fields, these boys caiight the fresh- 
 ness of the open air, and indulged the 
 impulsiveness of their untamed natures. 
 
 "I say, Jim, come on," shouted Tom 
 Hardy; "let's have a rouser. Come 
 out here, and pitch into me, if you want 
 to. I '11 show you how quick I '11 lay 
 you flat." 
 
 ''That's right; go it, boys," said Ned 
 Manson; ''any thing for fun. Stand back 
 here, boys ; give 'em fai» play. Now take 
 him, Jim. You can beat him any time," 
 
 "Beat me!" said Tom, drawing him- 
 self up to his utmost height; "I should 
 like to see the boy that can do that." 
 
 "Hurrah then; I'm the one," said 
 Jim, laying his hand upon the shoulder 
 of Tom. Quick as thought they grasp- 
 ed each other, and began manoeuvring 
 with efforts to put each other on the 
 ground; while the other boys grouped 
 around, cheering and shouting as the 
 
12 WALTEE MAKTIN. 
 
 game went on. For the moment, dinner 
 was forgotten. 
 
 James Clark, or ''Jim," as he was 
 called, was a delicate, slender boy, the 
 son of a pious father, and it seemed a 
 pity that so good a man should expose 
 his son to such influences for the sake of 
 gain. Better remain at home, even with 
 privations, than risk the temptations of 
 dangerous associations. 
 
 Tom Hardy ^as strong and burly; 
 and if he lacked the agility of Jim, he 
 compensated for it by sturdy strength 
 and firmness of compact limb. He had 
 a fancy for trials of strength, and always 
 rejoiced when his rough challenges were 
 accepted. Jim, Avith his sanguine tem- 
 perament, agility, and suppleness, was 
 not willing to yield the palm, and so the 
 present contest became warmer than they 
 intended. 
 
 " Hurrah !'" cried Ned Manson, as one 
 
THE WEESTLING. 13 
 
 or tlie other seemed likely to fall; "bet 
 you a treat Jim will beat him.'' 
 
 "Nonsense," cried another, " Jim a'n't 
 half so stout as Tom. I '11 take your bet. 
 Tom ']1 beat." 
 
 Thus the youthful contestants and the 
 youthful spectators were already sharing 
 those high excitements which, followed 
 into manhood, lead to the race, to cards, 
 to high betting, and then to the treat, the 
 flushed cheek, and the unsteady hand. 
 
 At this moment another boy came 
 down the stairs, and stepped quickly 
 upon the threshold of the open outer 
 door. He was a thoughtful-looking youth 
 of thirteen, with a keen black eye, and a 
 pleasant, but resolute countenance. He 
 paused suddenly at the sight of the now 
 almost angry wrestlers, and gazed upon 
 them with a look of surprise. 
 
 "Take care there," said Ned, who 
 seemed to be chief speaker; " take care, 
 
14 WALTEK MAETIN. 
 
 Jim ; keep cool, or Tom will have you. 
 See, Walter," turning to tlie new-comer, 
 ''don't they handle each other well?'' 
 
 But Walter did not reply. He still 
 stood on the threshold, with an expres- 
 sion of mingled pity, contempt, and dis- 
 gust. 
 
 Poor Jim was growing tired. He had 
 thrown his whole energies into the first 
 efforts, with a determination to break 
 down the big, blustering Tom; but now 
 he was exhausted, and Tom, taking a 
 sudden advantage, laid him flat upon his 
 back, and then gave a shout of triumph. 
 
 The boys scattered at once ; there was 
 no more time to lose, and Tom, giving a 
 glance of triumph at his fallen adversary, 
 started upon a run like the others. 
 
 Walter Martin, however, remained 
 watching the defeated Jim ; and seeing 
 that he needed help, went to him and 
 helping him to rise, brushed the dirt from 
 
THE WRESTLING. 15 
 
 liis clothes, smootlied Ms hair with his 
 own pocket-comb, and then walked by 
 his side. 
 
 "How came you in such a scrape?" 
 said Walter; "I shouldn't think you 
 would meddle with such a fellow as Tom 
 Hardy." 
 
 ''Well, he dared me," said Jim, ''and 
 the boys would all laugh if I backed out, 
 and say I was a coward." 
 
 "I should let them laugh then," said 
 Walter. 
 
 "I suppose you would," replied Jim; 
 "you can do different from anybody else." 
 
 "Why can I do different?" 
 
 "Oh, because you don't care if the 
 boys do laugh at you." 
 
 "Yes, I do care," said Walter; "I do 
 not like to be laughed at ; but if they tell 
 me I am a coward because I will not 
 fight, I think it requires more courage to 
 resist the accusation and persevere in the 
 
16 WALTER MAETIN. 
 
 right than it does to fight, and so I think 
 I have more true courage than they.'"' 
 
 ''Yes," said Jim, "I know you have. 
 You never fear to face the boys at any 
 time, no matter what they are doing ; but 
 I can't do as you can." 
 
 "Why not?" said Walter. 
 
 ''Why, the boys would laugh at me." 
 
 "Yes, there is the trouble," said Wal- 
 ter. "You fear the laugh, and so you 
 fight. Try now, and see if you cannot 
 show moral courage, the true courage 
 that faces evil and conquers it ; and if you 
 cannot at first resist the boys, keep away 
 from them." 
 
 "But how can- I keep away from 
 them." 
 
 "Do as I do. Wait a little when the 
 bell rings, and don't get into the rush. 
 Stay behind, take off your overalls, wash 
 your face, comb your hair, and brush 
 your clothes, then you can go home look- 
 
THE WRESTLING. 11 
 
 ing like a gentleman. Then don't go 
 back a minute too soon, so that the boys 
 can't have time to tempt you; and by 
 and by you will like my way much bet- 
 ter than your old way. Besides, what 
 would your father* say if he saw you 
 where I did?" 
 
 By this time they had reached Jim's 
 door, and he went into the house, pon- 
 dering Walter's last question, "What 
 would your father say?" His father did 
 not live in the village, but three miles 
 out, on a small farm. He was a good 
 man, but as his farm furnished him little 
 money, he sent his son to the factory to 
 earn more, not thinkihg that possibly 
 this might lead to vice and ruin. But 
 God, who "seeth not as man seeth," had 
 a watchful care over the son of the hon- 
 est, praying parent. 
 
 Jim ate his dinner silently, still con- 
 sidering Walter's advice and his last 
 
18 ,VALTEK MAETIN. 
 
 question. Then putting on his cap, he 
 waited at the door till he saw Walter 
 coming back, when with a bright smile 
 he ran out to meet him. 
 
 "Walter/*' said he, "may I go and 
 come with you, so that the boys need not 
 laugh at me?'' 
 
 "Yes," said Walter, " I should be glad 
 to have you." 
 
 "Thank you," replied Jim. "I have 
 been thinking of the question you asked 
 me, and I want to quit the company of 
 those rude boys ; for I know my father 
 would feel bad if he thought I was doing 
 wrong. I should not like to have him 
 know how I behaved this noon.'' 
 
 The bell had ceased its working call, 
 the men and boys were in their places, 
 the long, steady mules were just recom- 
 mencing their patient roll, back and forth, 
 back and forth, bearing as they went 
 their long rows of spools, from which the 
 
THE WliESTLIXG. 19 
 
 fme cotton threads spun out their even 
 length, twisting, whirling, buzzing, and 
 sometimes snapping, requiring the agile 
 movements of nimble fingers to join them 
 again and keep the machine in running 
 order. 
 
 The overseer had just hung up his 
 coat and stepped out into the room as 
 Walter and James entered, so the boys 
 had but little chance to begin any sport 
 with the discomfited wrestler. They 
 could only wink, twist their faces into 
 meaning grimaces, cough with a peculiar 
 sound, and extend such sly hints to him 
 as they were sure he would understand. 
 He went quietly to his work, taking no 
 notice of these manifestations, and the 
 room assumed its customary activities. 
 
 The boys who assisted the spinners 
 were called "back boys,'' because it w^as 
 their duty to go back of the mules, and 
 taking away the spools which had been 
 
20 WALTER MAETIX. 
 
 emptied of the cotton roping, replace 
 them with full ones, from which to spin 
 the fine threads. They also assisted in 
 keeping the machinery clean, and were 
 general waiters for the men who employ- 
 ed them, each man having a boy assign- 
 ed him. 
 
 Sometimes the boys took a cloth, and 
 while the heavy machine rolled its way 
 forward to the spools, they stooped to the 
 floor on the other side, and rubbing the 
 cloth on the straight beam, slipped rap- 
 idly through underneath the low rails, 
 coming out safely on the other side before 
 the machine rolled back, with a force 
 which would have crushed the luckless 
 one who had been caught lagging. A 
 spectator, unaccustomed to the sight, 
 would have shuddered for the fate of the 
 boy, who himself had no fear. 
 
 Tom Hardy having a great desire to 
 know the mind of Jim, dusted his mule, 
 
THE WEESTLING. 21 
 
 filled his spools, and seeing that every 
 thing was right, took a trip across the 
 room, 'Ho see if Jim was sore," he said. 
 
 "I say," said he, coming up to him; 
 "do you feel good after it? If you do n't, 
 I '11 give you a little more to-night ; just 
 for fun, you know." 
 
 "Halloo, here," said Walter, who had 
 seen Tom's movement, and followed him; 
 "do you see the old man there, Tom?" 
 
 Tom looked around, and saw the man 
 for whom he worked, and whom he usual- 
 ly designated as "the old man," in a 
 towering passion. He was a man of an 
 imperious temper, and not pleased to 
 have his "back boy" running off without 
 leave; so without stopping for more 
 words, Tom made haste back again to his 
 work, receiving a kick for leaving, be- 
 sides knowing that the boys were all 
 laughing at his discomfiture. There was 
 no more trouble for Jim that day. 
 
22 WALTER MARTIN. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 STUDYING AND IMPROVING. 
 
 Night came, suspending the day's la- 
 bors, and again the bell jingled its wel- 
 come summons ; welcome always when it 
 was a release from toil, but sometimes 
 greeted with a sigh when it called back 
 the half-rested ones to a renewal of their 
 duties. 
 
 "Wait a little, James," said Walter; 
 "let the crowd go. I have something 
 here for you." 
 
 So James loitered behind, and then he 
 and Walter preparing themselves tidily, 
 followed the other operatives down the 
 broad stairs. 
 
 "I have a book here," said Walter 
 when they were out in the street; "some- 
 times I get a little time to read in the 
 
STUDYING AND IMPEOVING. 23 
 
 mill, and if you would like it you can 
 liave it this evening. You may be lone- 
 ly if you stay at home, and I hope you 
 will not go out. If the boys are to have 
 a high time^ let them have it without 
 you." 
 
 James accepted the book, gave the 
 requisite promise, and Walter ran for his 
 home. It was always a j^leasure for him 
 to get home. The sight of his dear 
 mother's face, the evening reunion of the 
 family circle, the well-spread board, the 
 books, the papers, the few minutes' pri- 
 vate consultation concerning the next 
 day's family arrangements, all these home 
 scenes were dear to the loving boy. 
 
 The youngest of a band of six brothers, 
 delicate, thoughtful, and domestic in his 
 habits, it was not strange that Walter 
 was the pet of his mother, and was re- 
 garded generally as the household baby. 
 Some of his older brothers worked in 
 
24 WALTER MAETIN. 
 
 otlier departments of tlie same mill ; and 
 though in their own private circle they 
 sometimes jested the young boy too 
 roughly, they were very careful that 
 others should not do so. -So his elder 
 brother Frank, finding that Walter must 
 go into the mill, and that this was his 
 father's firm decision, went to the over- 
 seer and exerted his influence to procure 
 him a situation under an honest, sober 
 man, who treated him always with con- 
 sideration and kindness. 
 
 It was well for Walter that he was 
 thus protected. It is a wise saying, that 
 "God tempers the wind to the shorn 
 lamb ;" and in this case the great Father 
 was not unmindful of the fragile lad, but 
 threw around him the arm of his protec- 
 tion. 
 
 Books were Walter's unceasing com- 
 panions. He carried them to the mill, 
 he sat up late to read them, he walked 
 
STUDYING AND IMPEOVING. 25 
 
 the streets with them in his hands, and 
 he even carried them to the table with 
 him; though the laugh of his larger 
 brothers, and the name of "bookworm,'' 
 prevented tke repetition of the last act 
 as often as he would have liked. 
 
 He did not read trashy novels, but a 
 well-selected assortment of histories and 
 biographies, even ascending the scale to 
 a few scientific works and an occasional 
 poem. Deprived of the benefits of school, 
 and shut up to the routine of daily labor, 
 he yet contrived to keep pace with those 
 of more abundant privileges, and his 
 countenance assumed the intelligent ex- 
 pression of the young scholar, instead of 
 the vacancy of the mere drudge. 
 
 "I never see that boy," said one gen- 
 tleman to another as Walter passed them 
 on his way to the mill, "but I think 
 he will not always plod in this factory 
 path." 
 
26 WALTER MARTIN. 
 
 ''He is a fine-lookmg boy, certainly," 
 replied the otlier. 
 
 "He is more tlian fine-lookingv' con- 
 tinued the first speaker. ' ' His fine looks 
 are the result of noble thoughts ; it is not 
 mere jDhysical beauty he possesses. Stu- 
 dious, truthful, diligent, respectful, he 
 bids fair to become one of our best and 
 truest men.'' 
 
 Thus the good conduct of boys is ob- 
 served by men oftener than boys think ; 
 their characters, good or ill, become 
 stamped in the eyes of the world as well 
 as in their hearts and countenances. In- 
 dolence and vice leave sure marks on the 
 countenance and demeanor, as well as in- 
 telligence and virtue. 
 
 That factory bell, how punctually came 
 its notes through the still morning air, 
 pealing on the ears of all who followed 
 its behests. Some started slowly, and 
 with many groans and yawns, being jad- 
 
STUDYING AND IMPEOVING. 27 
 
 ed out witli late hours and dissipation, 
 and not refreshed by slumber. It was 
 otherwise with Walter and his brothers. 
 
 "A person feels paid for early rising 
 such a morning as this," said Walter, gaz- 
 ing upon the gorgeous clouds of the east- 
 ern sky. "Come, let us hurry, Nat, and 
 take a run down the bank before the 
 second bell rings. We shall feel the bet- 
 ter for it." 
 
 "Agreed," replied Nat, who was two 
 years older than Walter ; and speeding 
 down the back stairs, they were going 
 out at the back door, when they met their 
 mother. 
 
 "Why, mother," said Walter, "I be- 
 lieve you are always up ; I can't get up 
 first if I try." 
 
 "Why shouldn't I get up?" she re- 
 plied; "my children are obliged to get 
 up, and it is right that I should." 
 
 "Oh no, mother; we are young, it 
 
28 WALTER MAETIN. 
 
 does not hurt us to see the early dew, 
 but you ought to rest/' 
 
 "I could not rest if you were up,'' said 
 she; "it is my happiness to share the la- 
 bors of my boys," laying her hands upon 
 the heads of the two. "Long may I be 
 spared to rise in the morning and care 
 for you, my industrious, faithful sons." 
 
 How the touch of her gentle hand, and 
 her kind words, strengthened their young 
 hearts, as bounding down the bank, they 
 took a run by the side of the swiftly flow- 
 ing river, coming out by a circuitous path 
 near the mill. Here they found flocks of 
 women, men, and boys hurrying to their 
 daily toil. 
 
 Our two boys placed their hands upon 
 the rails of the fence separating the 
 meadow-path from the street, and with a 
 brisk leap came over into the road, just 
 as Tom Hardy and his band came out 
 from their boarding-house doors. 
 
STUDYING AND IMPEOVING. 29 
 
 "Hallo, Natl" said Tom, "why didn't 
 you come down to Conant's last night? 
 Had a high time down there, I tell you." 
 
 "Had something else to do," replied 
 Nat drily. 
 
 "Wonder what?" said Tom. "Cooped 
 up with Walter, under mamma's apron 
 strings ?" 
 
 "Couldn't stop for that," replied Nat, 
 "hurried to bed so as to get up in sea- 
 son this morning to wash the bed-feath- 
 ers off my face." 
 
 Tom's anger flashed, as involuntarily 
 putting his hand to his forehead, he rub- 
 bed thence some of the down which had 
 clung to it from his landlady's leaky pil- 
 low. But it was useless being angry 
 with Nat. He was proverbial for his 
 coolness ; and his dry sarcasms, cut where 
 they might, or hit as they would, were 
 commonly endured by the boys without 
 retaliation. 
 
30 WALTEE MAKTIX. 
 
 James waited till he saw Walter and 
 Nat, and then joining them, went quietly 
 along in their company. Nat worked in 
 the card-room, so Walter and James en- 
 tered their own room together, as they 
 did the day before. 
 
 "Hurrah!" said Ned Manson, "I be- 
 lieve Jim has got under Walter's wing. 
 Poor fellow; got so whipped yesterday, 
 he is afraid to go alone. Halloo, Jim; 
 have you tied yourself to Walter with a 
 bed-cord ?'' 
 
 How Jim burned at the taunt; but a 
 wink from Walter prevented his reply, 
 and the starting of the machinery pre- 
 cluded further conversation. 
 
 Walter was never very happy in the 
 mill. He longed for more time to read, 
 more time to study and to think; he 
 wanted different associates, companions 
 whose thoughts sometimes soared above 
 the spindle and the loom ; for he looked 
 
STUDYING AND IMPEOVING. 31 
 
 upon life as a gift too sacred to be trifled 
 away in thoughtless jests or light amuse- 
 ments, or bartered for sensual enjoy- 
 ments. Something in the boy looked up- 
 ward, and though his hands were tied to 
 daily toil, his brain was busy with flying 
 thoughts, and his heart was every day 
 learning lessons of patience and love. 
 
 In his eagerness for knowledge, he often 
 laid upon the window-sill near his work 
 his open book — grammar, history, alge- 
 bra, or geometry — and as he flitted back 
 and forth at his labor of dusting, remov- 
 ing spools, carrying boxes, or mending 
 the frail, snapping threads, he would pause 
 for a moment at his window, read a sen= 
 tence in his book, and then revolve it in 
 his mind as he darted back to his work. 
 
 He was so faithful, diligent, good-tem- 
 pered, and obliging, that he was a great 
 favorite with his master, who carefully 
 avoided harshness or unkindness in deal- 
 
32 WALTER MARTIN. 
 
 ing with him. The other boys regarded 
 his situation with envy, and thought all 
 the men were partial to him on account 
 of his brother Frank, who was the second 
 overseer of the room and a general favor- 
 ite. 
 
 It was true, Frank had used his influ- 
 ence in the selection of Walter's master ; 
 but beyond that, the good conduct of the 
 boy himself had won all the kind treat- 
 ment he received. This was a point the 
 other boys overlooked. They did not 
 consider that their own "shirking," care- 
 lessness, and ill-temper, brought upon 
 them the kicks and abusive language so 
 frequently and plentifully showered upon 
 them by the impulsive men who employed 
 them. 
 
 But Walter's kindness to James had 
 awakened new feelings in the heart of the 
 wayward boy, and he watched his kind 
 friend with a lively interest. He wanted 
 
STUDYING AND IMPEOVING. 33 
 
 to know how he found time to read and 
 study so much, without neglecting his 
 work; and he was surprised to see how 
 diligent and quick he was in performing 
 his work, how every thing seemed to be 
 done beforehand, never lagging, never 
 out of the way when wanted. 
 
 *'I don't wonder 'boss Abbot' is kind 
 to him, " soliloquized James. ' ' There is n't 
 a bit of chance to find fault. I wonder 
 how it would operate if I should try his 
 way. I might as well try it, any way. 
 It isn't very pleasant to have my ears 
 boxed and my hair pulled just when 
 'boss' has a fancy;" and brushing back 
 his hair with his hand, he flew about 
 with such a bright smile and buoyant 
 step, kept up the threads so nicely, and 
 polished every thing so beautifully with- 
 out being asked, that ''boss Wyman" 
 looked on with amazement. 
 
 "What's got into the boy?" thought 
 
34 WALTER MARTIN. 
 
 he; "it is perfectly surprising. Some 
 remarkable fit has seized him. I did n't 
 know he could do so much." 
 
 '' That 's firstrate, Jim," said he ; "you 
 have made the old machine look like new. 
 You can rest ten minutes, if you want 
 to. There 's nothing to do now." 
 
 It was James' turn to be astonished. 
 
 " Boss Wyman, of his own accord, tell 
 a fellow he may rest! I didn't know 
 there was a streak of kindness in him. 
 That 's because I tried to please him. I 
 wonder if the other boys wouldn't suc- 
 ceed as well, if they should try. I'll 
 run over to Walter's window, and see 
 what that book is." 
 
 The book proved to be an elementary 
 work on natural sciences, and was open 
 at a page on the laws of light. 
 
 "Do you read such books as this?" 
 asked James. "I thought, they were 
 such as are studied at school." 
 
STUDYING AND IMPEOVING. 35 
 
 ''So they are," replied Walter; ''but 
 you know I cannot go to school, and have 
 to study as I can." 
 
 "But what^s the use?" said James; 
 "it isn't of any use for us to be great 
 scholars, and trudge around the old mill 
 all our days. If we learn ever so much, 
 nobody will know it." 
 
 "But," replied Walter, "we need not 
 stay here all our days, if we can know 
 enough to do any thing else. Or even if 
 we stay, we shall be more respected, and 
 become overseers or something else." 
 
 " But we do not need to be extra schol- 
 ars to be overseers," replied James. 
 
 " The more we know, the better over- 
 seers we should be ; or we could go into 
 the counting-room, and keep books ; or 
 at least we can have the pleasure of know- 
 ing, and of being respectable men. But 
 how came you over here ? Boss Wyman 
 will scold you when you go back." 
 
86 WALTEK MAETIN. 
 
 ''No/' replied James; ''he gave me 
 ten minutes. I had done up the work 
 so close there was nothing to do. I tell 
 you, I begin to think it 's better to pat- 
 tern after you than after Tom Hardy 
 and Ned Manson. But I must go back 
 now;'' and James returned to his work 
 with a smile on his face and a smile in 
 his heart. 
 
 "Wake up here, Tom," said Tom's 
 master. "Don't you see the roping is 
 all out there? Fetch on some boxes 
 here, or I '11 make you tingle." 
 
 Tom started suddenly. Burly as he 
 was, he dared not disobey these sharp- 
 toned orders, though his head ached from 
 the last night's dissipation, and he felt 
 much more like sleeping than he did like 
 bringing heavy boxes of roping. 
 
 The ringing of the bell once more sent 
 all hands home from their work; and 
 Ned and Tom dropped their occupations, 
 
STUDYING AND IMPROVING. 37 
 
 and ran as rapidly as possible. "Walter 
 and James followed behind, as usual. 
 
 '' Let 's wait a little/^ said Ned ; '^ 'm 
 going to get Nat to give us a treat .to- 
 night.'' 
 
 The boys paused at the card-room 
 door to wait for Nat, and as he came 
 out, Ned caught him by the shoulder. 
 
 '' Halloo here, Nat," said he, '' you are 
 just the fellow we want. Go down to 
 Conant's with us to-night.'^ 
 
 '' Start along there, boys," said a voice 
 behind, and Nat's brother Frank stepped 
 down the stairs. ''Go home to your 
 dinner, and be back in season.'^ 
 
 Frank was their second overseer, and 
 the crestfallen boys were obliged to obey. 
 
^8 WALTEE MARTIN. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE MORAL FAMILY. 
 
 In Mr. Martin's family, morality, a 
 strict observance of the proprieties of 
 society, and honorable, fair dealing with 
 all men, were accounted among the first 
 duties of life. Never were six boys more 
 thoroughly instructed in the portion of 
 the commandments relating to the duties 
 of man to man than they. 
 
 Profanity in all its multiplied forms 
 was strictly forbidden, and the smallest 
 child would have been punished for the 
 utterance of a profane or vulgar word, or 
 for any substitute for swearing so com- 
 monly adopted by those whose conscien- 
 ces will not venture really to take the 
 name of the great God in vain. 
 
 Lying was as strenuously prohibited, 
 
THE MOBAL FAMILY. 39 
 
 and "the truth, and nothing but the 
 truth," was the motto for the youthful 
 band, enforced by parental authority and 
 parental example. 
 
 Temperance too was a ruling feature. 
 Mr. Martin himself was a devotee in the 
 cause of temperance. He lived it, and 
 he talked it. In temperance meetings 
 his voice was often heard; and not a 
 boy of his, from Frank down to Walter, 
 ever dared to sip a drop. Their even- 
 ings were especially guarded against this 
 temptation, and they were required either 
 to remain at home or give a reasonable 
 excuse for absence. They did not want 
 strong drink, because they had not learn- 
 ed to love it, or to like the class of boys 
 who frequented the haunts of dissipation. 
 
 Every boy must be in at an early hour ; 
 not in a barren home, devoid of interest- 
 ing pursuits, but in a home where books, 
 periodicals, newspapers, and music fur- 
 
40 WALTER MARTIN. 
 
 nisliecl abundant occupation for leisure 
 hours. So the boys grew up intelligent, 
 virtuous, and respected. 
 
 But here the father's influence paused. 
 Having inculcated this outward morality, 
 he seemed strangely to forget the higher 
 commands. The first and greatest, "Thou 
 shalt love the Lord thy God," was for- 
 gotten in the mind of the worldly man. 
 The love of Jesus, faith in his name, the 
 beauty of his life, the necessity for a 
 change of heart, eternity, and the great 
 unknown future, all were subjects unmen- 
 tioned in family conversation. 
 
 How blind is the human heart; how 
 forgetful of the requirements of Him who 
 has made the world and all that is in it ! 
 
 There were two sisters mingled with 
 this band of brothers, to give freshness 
 and life to its evening gatherings. It 
 was a happy family ; but with the excep- 
 tion of the elder sister, the requirements 
 
THE MORAL FAMILY. 41 
 
 of religion had as yet met witli no re- 
 sponse. She alone had learned to pray, 
 and to draw sweet waters from the foun- 
 tain of Jesus' love. 
 
 Under these circumstances, there was 
 one point of true morality which occu- 
 pied a doubtful position in the family 
 regulations. The observance of the Sab- 
 bath stood on a poise ; it might be well 
 kept or it might not, as circumstances 
 occurred. 
 
 "Don't go to church to-day, Ellen," 
 said Frank one Sabbath morning as they 
 were at breakfast. ' ' I borrowed a copy 
 of those new poems last night, and I want 
 to read them to you to-day." 
 
 '' Cannot you read them after I come 
 home?" asked Ellen. "You know I do 
 not like to be absent from my place in 
 church. Come now, go to church with 
 me, and then you can read to me when 
 we come home." 
 
42 WALTER MAETIN. 
 
 "I think it will storm before noon, 
 Ellen," said Mrs. Martin; ''perhaps you 
 had better not go to-day." 
 
 " A little storm wont hurt me, mother ; 
 I can dress for it, and take my umbrella. 
 Come, Frank, go with me," said Ellen 
 pleadingly; for she loved her brother, 
 and she loved the house of God, the sound 
 of prayer, and the faithful pastor's words. 
 
 Frank looked out at the window, pon- 
 dered a minute, and then replied, "I 
 don't feel like it to-day. What is the 
 use for me to go there, when I want to 
 read this book? I shall not have much 
 time to read this week, and I wanted to 
 read to you to-day." 
 
 Poor Ellen; she was a young Chris- 
 tian, loving Christ in the depths of her 
 heart, but not very well fortified with 
 reasons for the observance of the Sab- 
 bath, except that she knew God had 
 commanded it. She had none at home 
 
THE MOKAL FAMILY. 43 
 
 to teach lier the way of life ; and though 
 the Spirit of God, like a little lamp, threw 
 light upon the dim chambers of her soul, 
 she offered to compromise with her broth- 
 er, and join him in reading the poems, if 
 he would first accompany her to church. 
 She did not yet realize that every hour 
 of the day is holy to God, but was firm 
 in her determination to go to church. 
 
 ''Who will go with me?" she asked, 
 looking around the group. But the youn- 
 ger boys were all imitators of Frank, and 
 pleaded other occupations. 
 
 "I do n't see any use in going to meet- 
 ing,'' said the rattling Herbert. "Peo- 
 ple that go to meeting are no better than 
 those who stay at home. Xow there is 
 Ned Manson, as wicked a fellow as there 
 is in the mill, but people say his father is 
 a church-member. And there is Wheel- 
 er, who prays in the evening meetings 
 and is terribly pious every Sunday, and 
 
44 WALTEE MAKTIN. 
 
 yet he will cheat every man he trades 
 with." 
 
 "That is the way it is," replied Mr. 
 Martin. ''Professors are no better than 
 other people, nor ministers either. The 
 best way is to do about right, avoid ev- 
 ery thing bad, and we shall come out 
 well enough. 'Pure religion and unde- 
 filed before God is, to visit the fatherless 
 and widows in their affliction.'" 
 
 ' ' And to keep yourself unspotted from 
 the world," added Ellen. 
 
 "Yes," said her father; "that is, to 
 do right, and keep yourself from bad 
 company and bad deeds, which I hope 
 my boys will ever do." 
 
 The explanation fell far short of Ellen's 
 ideas of the meaning of the word "unspot- 
 ted." She pondered it as she walked 
 alone to the house of God. "Unspotted. 
 Perfectly pure. If we gaze at a sheet of 
 new-fallen snow, how dazzling and white 
 
THE MOKAL FAMILY. 45 
 
 it appears. The unspotted heart must 
 be just so pure; aud it cannot be so, un- 
 less we live very near to God, and have 
 our hearts washed in Christ's blood." 
 
 But Ellen found little courage to ex- 
 press her thoughts at home. She met 
 with so many antagonisms, so many ar- 
 guments, and so much reliance on good 
 works, or "living about right" as they 
 expressed it, that it was a wonder she 
 kept within herself so much of the light 
 of faith as was found there. Ah, Christ 
 was true to his promise ; and while Sa- 
 tan threw water on the fire to quench its 
 light, the loving Saviour drew near, and 
 secretly fed it with the burning oil of his 
 grace. So he ever does to those who 
 trust in him. Grlorious Saviour, holy is 
 
 thv name. 
 
 t/ 
 
 Walter had been an attentive listener 
 to the morning's conversation. In the 
 mind of the young boy there was a rest- 
 
46 WALTER MARTIN. 
 
 less longing, a seeking for something 
 which he had not. There was an up- 
 ward looking of the soul, which he him- 
 self did not understand. He plunged 
 into his studies and his reading, but was 
 not satisfied. The book which alone 
 could satisfy him was yet unread. 
 
 True, there was a large Bible on a 
 shelf by itself in the library ; but he had 
 seldom seen it read, except by his moth- 
 er on a Sabbath-day. There were other 
 Bibles in the house, and he knew that 
 Ellen always had a pocket-Bible with 
 her ; but it had never entered his mind 
 that this book contained the secrets of 
 the heavenly and true wisdom, and was 
 a balm to the weary soul, a refreshing to 
 the thirsty heart. 
 
 Ellen could have pointed him to this 
 book, but she had no thought that he 
 was seeking for the pearl of great price. 
 There was so strong an opposition to real 
 
THE MOKAL FAMILY. 47 
 
 religion among her brothers, that she did 
 not speak of the subject to them ; and she 
 lived among them without thinking that 
 in their minds there might be a restless- 
 ness which mere morality could not sat- 
 isfy. 
 
 The breakfast being finished, and the 
 house still, Walter wandered around for 
 somebody to talk with. Frank was 
 stretched on the sofa, absorbed in his 
 poem, Mr. Martin and the boys were 
 scattered about reading, and Ellen was 
 at church. At last Walter found his 
 mother in the kitchen, sitting quietly 
 alone, with the large Bible on her lap. 
 
 This was just what he wanted. He 
 thought his mother must be a Christian ; 
 he was sure she could not live such a 
 beautiful life, unless she had something in 
 her heart to guide her footsteps ; yet she 
 had never spoken to him on this subject. 
 
 "Mother," said Walter, ''what makes 
 
48 WALTEK MARTIN. 
 
 Ellen so particular to go to meeting every 
 Sabbath?'' 
 
 ''Because she enjoys going, and she 
 thinks it is right to go," replied his 
 mother. 
 
 "Well, mother, you seem to like to go 
 sometimes ; but you are not so particular 
 about it. If it storms, or any thing oc- 
 curs to prevent, you stay at home. But 
 Ellen will not stay for any thing. She 
 would not even stay to please Frank this 
 morning. Was that right, mother?" 
 
 "I think it was," replied his mother. 
 ''It certainly is right to sustain the wor- 
 ship of God. We are all dependent on 
 Him ; he is the great Author of all things, 
 and it is right that people should serve 
 and honor him." 
 
 Never before had Mrs. Martin said so 
 much as this ; but the inquiring expression 
 of her child had drawn out her thoughts 
 surprisingly. 
 
THE MOBAL FAMILY. 49 
 
 *' Then I am sure," said "Walter, "we 
 are very far from doing right. There is 
 not one in the house, except Ellen, that 
 ever feels the least responsibility about 
 going to church. Father and all the 
 boys think it quite a burden to go, unless 
 some remarkable man is going to preach, 
 or some special topic is to be introduced. 
 Temperance meetings, lyceums, political 
 meetings, and all such gatherings they 
 attend if it does storm." 
 
 Mrs. Martin was puzzled. She hardly 
 knew what to say. Her own example 
 had not been perfect in this respect, and 
 her conscience was too busy to permit a 
 ready reply. But she was relieved from 
 her difficulty by the merry sounds of feet 
 and tongues coming down the back stairs, 
 eagei to pop corn at the kitchen fire. 
 
 The corn was popped and eaten, and 
 the whole family were still collected in 
 the kitchen when Ellen came in from 
 
50 WALTER MAETIN. 
 
 church. The sight touched her heart 
 painfully. They were all tidily dressed, 
 and seemed vieing with each other in 
 kindness ; but Ellen remembered it was 
 the Sabbath, and she wished that her 
 brothers loved the house of God, and her 
 father too. If he would only go to church 
 oftener, what an influence it would have. 
 Then there was the Sabbath-school en- 
 tirely neglected, and Ellen almost doubt- 
 ed whether they were truly a moral fam- 
 ily. " Is it really morality," thought she, 
 " to neglect the church, and break the 
 fourth commandment by doing our own 
 pleasure on God's holy day?" 
 
 Walter had, for the time, forgotten the 
 brief conversation he had held with his 
 mother that morning; but Mrs. Martin 
 well remembered it. Why should Wal- 
 ter ask such questions? She dwelt much 
 on the matter, revolving it in her mind 
 while she prepared the dinner. 
 
THE IVrOEAL FAMILY. 61 
 
 The keeping of the Sabbath was indeed 
 a test- point in the family. She knew 
 many families whose heads were profes- 
 sors of religion, that had no family altar, 
 and in that respect she thought they were 
 no better than their family. But those, 
 people went to church, at least when it 
 was pleasant, while her boys did not like 
 to attend church at all. And when it 
 was pleasant, they sometimes walked out, 
 either in the street or rambling in the 
 fields ; arguing that as they had so little 
 time for breathing the fresh air during the 
 week, it was necessary for their health to 
 use the Sabbath for this purpose. 
 
 At her suggestion, Walter went to 
 church with Ellen in the afternoon. 
 Frank continued reading his poems ; Mr. 
 Martin tried an afternoon nap ; the boys 
 found something to read, and the Sabbath 
 wore away, leaving its record to be re- 
 viewed at the final day. 
 
52 WALTEE MARTIN. 
 
 CHAPTER lY. 
 
 THE CONVEESION. 
 
 MoxTHS passed on, leaving little trace 
 of their footsteps in the band under Mr. 
 Martin's roof. All were still there, tread- 
 ing the usual round, save the second son 
 James, who had gone to the Saranac wil- 
 derness of New York. He was missed 
 from the group, but frequent letters told 
 of his prosperity, and already some of 
 the brothers were expressing a desire to 
 follow him. Mrs. Martin was glad they 
 did not want to go farther west ; she could, 
 not spare them for that, for her sons were 
 her hope and her joy. 
 
 Walter still went daily to the mill, and 
 there too were Tom and Ned and James. 
 
 A bright but cold day had come, and 
 Walter's overcoat was buttoned to his 
 
THE CONVERSION. 53 
 
 chin, as lie ran back to his work after 
 dinner. James, as usual, came out to join 
 him. 
 
 "Walter," said he, "I have heard 
 there are to be special meetings down in 
 the lower church. They commence to- 
 day. Don't you want to go?" 
 
 ''I don't know," said Walter, "we 
 don't have time." 
 
 "We can go in the evening," replied 
 James. "I want to go down to-night, 
 and I wish you would go with me." 
 
 "Well, perhaps I will." 
 
 In the mill, Walter found the meetings 
 were the general topic of conversation. 
 Large numbers of the men expressed their 
 determination to go ; and so did many of 
 the boys, laughing and jesting however, 
 as they told their various refisons for go- 
 ing. 
 
 "I wish you would call for me this 
 evening," said James, as he and Walter 
 
54 WALTER MAETIX. 
 
 left the mill at night. "I had rather go 
 to the meeting with you than anybody. 
 You saved me from becoming like those 
 boys, and have been my protector and 
 friend ; and I want you to teach me the 
 way to heaven." 
 
 'The way to heaven !'' 
 
 Walter repeated the expression to 
 himself as he walked slowly home. "The 
 way to heaven! Why, I do n't know the 
 way myself. How can I teach him? 
 What made him say that to me?'' 
 
 Then Walter recollected how pale 
 James had recently looked, how thin 
 and delicate he was ; and he thought, 
 "Well, perhaps he will go to heaven by 
 and by; who knows? I '11 call for him 
 to-night, certainly." 
 
 The eveni-ng was clear and beautiful, 
 and the church was already crowded 
 when Walter and James entered; so 
 passing up the aisle, they took some low 
 
THE CONVEKSION. 55 
 
 seats near the pulpit, just as the minister 
 rose in his place to invoke the divine 
 blessing on the services. 
 
 The Rev. Mr. Jones, the preacher that 
 evening, had enlisted under the gospel 
 banner from love to Christ and a deep 
 sense of the worth of souls. His preach- 
 ing had been attended with signal suc- 
 cess, and the more he labored in this 
 sacred work the more he loved it. Win- 
 ning souls to Christ became his chief 
 delight, and this evening he commenced 
 his sermon with, "Behold the Lamb of 
 God, which taketh away the sin of the 
 world." 
 
 How closely he portrayed to the heart 
 its depth of guilt before God, its wicked 
 unbelief and rejection of the offers of 
 pardon, and its utterly lost condition. 
 Then came the proclamation of Jesus, 
 the propitiation for our sins, who took 
 away our guilt, and cleansed us with his 
 
56 WALTER MAETIN. 
 
 own blood. The congregation melted 
 under the fervor of his words, and eyes 
 unused to weep shed tears that night. 
 
 Walter had heard impressive sermons 
 before, but never one that moved him 
 like this. Every sentence was fraught 
 with meaning to his awakened sensibili- 
 ties. He saw. his heart in a new light, 
 and the blackness of its guilt opened to 
 his consciousness. No longer did he feel 
 himself removed by good works from the 
 vilest sinners who lived. Conviction 
 followed conviction with deeper thrust, 
 and he went home with the barbed ar- 
 row deep within him. James was sad 
 and depressed; but so absorbed was 
 Walter in himself, that he scarcely no- 
 ticed his companion at all. He wanted 
 to do something for his own salvation; 
 but coming to Jesus, believing on him 
 alone, seemed so simple, that his self- 
 righteousness could not understand it. 
 
THE CONVEKSION. 57 
 
 Surely there must be something for him 
 to do somewhere. 
 
 That night he found a Bible and read 
 long before he retired ; but everywhere 
 he found threatenings and condemnation. 
 True he read, "Come unto me, and I will 
 give you rest;"' "He that believeth shall 
 be saved;" and, "Him that cometh unto 
 me I will in no wise cast out;" but his 
 excited mind seized hold upon none of 
 these promises. He did not think they 
 were for him. Everywhere was doubt 
 and gloom. 
 
 The next morning he went to his work 
 
 ■ as usual, but there was no peace in his 
 
 heart. He did not speak of his feelings, 
 
 and none knew the struggles and conflicts 
 
 with which he was contending. 
 
 James too was occupied with his own 
 thoughts, and though sure that Walter 
 was under deep conviction like himself, 
 he dared not mention it. 
 
58 WALTER MARTIN. 
 
 "I wish I dared speak to him," said he 
 to himself; "I want to tell him that we 
 ought to love Jesus — that I think that 
 would make us happy, and would fill that 
 unsatisfied longing he sometimes talks 
 about. But he does not look at me to-day. 
 I do n't know what to think of him." 
 
 Neither of the boys said much about 
 the meeting; but in the evening, when 
 Walter went again, he stopped before 
 James' door and found him ready. 
 
 Again the preacher presented Christ, 
 for Christ was his favorite theme; and 
 deeper yet went the sure arrows of con- 
 viction which accompanied his words. 
 The house was pressed to its utmost ca- 
 pacity, and the preacher seemed to sway 
 the hearts before him as the heart of one 
 man. Could any steel themselves against 
 such searching appeals? He drew him- 
 self down to his audience as though he 
 was one of them ; could any resist? 
 
THE CONVEESION. 59 
 
 The third night found Walter and 
 James again there ; and this time, when 
 a request was made that those who de- 
 sired prayers should signify it, James 
 was the first to go. Walter was sur- 
 prised. In all his anxiety he had not 
 thought of doing that; it would be so pub- 
 lic. No, he was going to God by himself; 
 or if he perished, he would perish alone. 
 
 But James' bold step startled him, and 
 he began to consider what he should do. 
 That night the young soul of James drank 
 of the waters which his Saviour gave 
 him. He had yielded. He laid himself 
 at the foot of the cross, he accepted 
 Christ for his salvation, and henceforth 
 his trust was in Him. The next morn- 
 ing he waited for Walter as usual, and 
 the light of joy beamed in his eye as he 
 met him. All fear of him was gone, for 
 the Saviour's love had taken away the 
 fear of man. 
 
60 WALTER MARTIN. 
 
 "Walter," said he, "I am so happy." 
 Walter started as if stung by some pierc- 
 ing thought. 
 
 "Happy, happy!" the very words 
 jarred upon Walter's ear. What was 
 happiness ? Theij^ was certainly no such 
 thing for him, and he did not reply. 
 
 "Walter," continued James, "I have 
 found Jesus. My heart is so light, and 
 I have such joy. Do n't you want to find 
 him too?" 
 
 Walter looked at him earnestly a mo- 
 ment, and then replied, "Yes, James, I 
 want to find him, but I can't; I know 
 not where he is." 
 
 "Why, he is everywhere. His love 
 fills every place. You have only to say, 
 'Here, Lord, I give myself to thee,' and 
 you can find him at once." 
 
 What a sudden change passed through 
 the soul of the stiff-necked boy. The ice 
 was broken, he had spoken his thoughts, 
 
THE CONVEKSION. 61 
 
 and now his pride broke down, and lie 
 poured the feelings of his heart into the 
 ears of his young friend. 
 
 ''You must pray,'' said James. 
 
 "I do pray, but it does no good." 
 
 "Oh, it will do good. God will hear 
 you ; he always hears. You must ask 
 for the prayers of Christians to-night." 
 
 ''Oh, I can't do that. The boys at 
 home will laugh at me. They think 
 there is no need of going to church." 
 
 "I thought you didn't care for people, 
 if they do laugh." 
 
 Alas for Walter ; he knew not what to 
 say. He who had walked with such a fear- 
 less air, feared to show himself among 
 those who prayed. The boaster had fall- 
 en, he had acknowledged himself afraid. 
 
 "Where is Ellen?" said James. "Why 
 do n't she go to these meetings?" 
 
 "She is out of town this winter. She 
 is teaching." 
 
62 WALTER MAETIN. 
 
 **If she was at home she could help 
 you now, and tell you what to do.'' 
 
 "Yes," said Walter, "perhaps I should 
 have told her before this. She would 
 understand me." 
 
 "Well, go to meeting with me to-night; 
 let the world know that you seek Jesus, 
 and he will come to you just as he has 
 come to me. He will fill you with joy 
 and peace ; you will see his glory, and 
 we '11 praise him together, both here and 
 hereafter." 
 
 James had taken Walter's hand with a 
 firm grasp, and looked earnestly in his 
 face, till he promised that he would come 
 out publicly that evening, as an inquirer 
 for the true and living way. 
 
 He did so, and as Christians pleaded in 
 his behalf at the throne of grace his heart 
 throbbed. He felt as though bound with 
 a thousand chains ; his pulse quickened, 
 and he said to himself, "I will yield. I 
 
THE CONVERSION. 63 
 
 will give myself to Christ." Then his 
 will came up again in all its obstinacy, 
 and said, "You can't; where is the use 
 in trying? Besides, how do you know, 
 after all, that there really is any Jesus 
 who hears you? Perhaps it is all a 
 farce?" 
 
 . Near him stood an elderly Christian 
 woman, who had noticed the changes of 
 his countenance, and turning to him, she 
 gave him such a look as caused every 
 nerve of his body to thrill. 
 
 ''I never saw such a look," said he 
 afterwards to a friend; ''a look of pain, 
 of anxiety for me, of yearning love ; a 
 look as from eternity. It revealed to me 
 the day of judgment ; it flashed into my 
 soul a crucified Saviour, and exhibited 
 my sin in disobeying him. I saw that 
 she at^least believed without a doubt, and 
 my own doubts instantly fled. Should I 
 rebel against God ? Could I endure his 
 
6i Y^ALTER MAETIN. 
 
 wrath if I did? No. 'Blessed Jesus/ I 
 said, 'take me now. Save me; I rebel 
 no longer. I am thine. Henceforth I 
 am thine, forever thine.'" 
 
 '' Oh, Walter,'' said James, as they 
 were walking home, "I knew when you 
 became a Christian." 
 
 "How did you know?" asked Walter. 
 
 "By the light of your eye and the hap- 
 piness shown in your face. Let us bless 
 God together. Come in to my room be- 
 fore you go home, and let us thank God 
 together." 
 
 And there the two new-born souls first 
 knelt together to praise Him who loved 
 them and bought them with his blood. 
 How sweet are such praises in heaven. 
 We know they are heard there, for does 
 not the word of God say, "There is joy 
 in heaven over one sinner that i* pent- 
 eth?" 
 
 The next morning Walter and James 
 
THE CONVEKSION. 65 
 
 were at their places as usual, but a new 
 light shone in their faces, and they had 
 prayed that it might shine in their lives. 
 Many of the mill hands had attended 
 the meetings, and a close watch had 
 been kept over all who seemed interest- 
 ed. It was soon known that James and 
 Walter were among those hopefully con- 
 verted, and significant looks and whis- 
 pers passed around among their old ac- 
 quaintances, David Nealy, Tom Hardy, 
 Ned Manson, and the rest. They too had 
 attended the meetings, and been some- 
 what impressed by the services; but at 
 their close each evening they had gone 
 to their usual resort, Conant's, and dissi- 
 pated whatever feeling they had, amid 
 strong drink, cigars, and profanity. Al- 
 ready they were learning to love the 
 fatal cup, and to take a glass ; while the 
 fumes of strong drink and tobacco were 
 their especial delight. How fearful in 
 
66 WALTEll MAETIN. 
 
 the last great day will be the woe pro- 
 nounced on the men whose vicious ex- 
 ample and ridicule of religion closed the 
 eyes and hearts of these youth while the 
 Saviour was passing by. 
 
THE LAST FAEEWELL. 61 
 
 CHAPTER Y. 
 
 THE LAST FAEEWELL. 
 
 That was a happy winter for the 
 youthful converts. Many besides Wal- 
 ter and James had passed from death 
 unto life. The voice of prayer and hymns 
 of praise were heard in many rooms, the 
 meetings were full of young worshippers, 
 and all through the mill were scattered 
 joyful hearts, triumphing in Christ's love. 
 
 Walter no longer regarded the boys 
 with the pride he had formerly mani- 
 fested; he spoke to them kindly, and 
 sometimes walked with them, convers- 
 ing so pleasantly that the hearts of some 
 began to warm towards him. Uncon- 
 sciously the oath and the rough jest 
 were suppressed in his presence, and he 
 tried to induce them to join the Sabbath- 
 
08 WALTER MARTIN. 
 
 school. Thus lie honored his Master even 
 among those who could not understand 
 the change, and who yet discerned the 
 power of Christ in their young compan- 
 ion. Happy are those, young or old, 
 who live so near their Saviour that he is 
 reflected in all their conduct and honored 
 by their daily life. 
 
 When the spring came, with its chill- 
 ing winds, Walter noticed that James 
 did not seem so strong as usual. There 
 was a flush on his cheek, a short breath, 
 and a frequent cough that increased daily. 
 
 ''James," said Walter one morning, 
 "I don't think you ought to work; I 
 do n't believe you are able." 
 
 '*I do feel weak," replied James ; "but 
 you know I have to pay my board, and 
 if I do n't keep busy, I shall fall behind ; 
 and I do n't like to send word to father ; 
 he cannot afford to keep me at home 
 long." 
 
THE LAST FAREWELL. 69 
 
 ''Well, come up and stay with me a 
 week. Mother will be glad to have you, 
 I know, and she will cure you." 
 
 '' I should like to," said James, '' if the 
 overseer is willing." 
 
 Walter made haste home, and in a 
 few minutes was back again with his 
 mother's consent. All was readily ar- 
 ranged at his boarding-house and at the 
 factory, where all pitied the gentle and 
 patient James, and were ready to divide 
 his work among them. 
 
 That same forenoon James was wel- 
 comed to Mrs. Martin's hospitable and 
 motherly care. Lizzie brought pillows 
 and a warm spread for the sofa; and 
 as he stretched himself upon the soft 
 couch he gratefully said, "This is so com- 
 fortable, I shall get well soon, I am sure." 
 
 Walter, at his mother's request, bought 
 some slippery-elm to carry home at noon. 
 He had great faith in his mother's med- 
 
70 WALTER MARTIN. 
 
 ical powers. " She is better than a doc- 
 tor," he used to say. 
 
 '*But your mother can't save him," 
 said boss Wyman, "nor the doctors either. 
 I have known this good while, that he was 
 going to die. He is a good boy, and I 
 hate to spare him. When he first came 
 here he did n't do very well, but this 
 religion of his brought him right round." 
 
 "So you see," said Walter, "religion 
 is a good thing. Sometimes you think it 
 is worse than nothing." 
 
 "Oh, the true, genuine religion is a 
 good thing, I suppose ; but I do n't think 
 much of this 'cant,' that is all talk and 
 no practice." 
 
 "That isn't religion," replied Walter. 
 
 " Folks think it is," said Wyman, " and 
 they '11 pray, and pretend to be very 
 good, when they are no better than I am, 
 and do n't try half as hard to do right as 
 I do." 
 
THE LAST FAREWELL. 71 
 
 '' Trying to do ' about right ' never can 
 save us," said Walter; "Jesus Christ 
 saves us. He died for our sins, and we 
 must believe on him as our Saviour, and 
 love and serve him." 
 
 "Oh, I don't know any thing about 
 that," replied Wyman ; "somehow I can't 
 understand it ; but I am glad James does, 
 for when a person is going to die, I sup- 
 pose it 's a good thing." 
 
 " Yes," said Walter, " and it is a good 
 thing to live by too. It will make you 
 happy every day." 
 
 Walter was saddened at the thought 
 that his friend was going to die, but he 
 rejoiced that the beauty of his every-day 
 life had borne testimony to the truth as 
 it is in Jesus ; and he knew that this 
 same loving Jesus was in heaven, and 
 would surely receive one who loved him 
 so well. 
 
 "It is only passing through the valley 
 
72 WALTER MABTIN. 
 
 a little sooner tlian I do, that is all," 
 tliouglit he. ''I shall follow him when 
 my work is clone. Mav I be as ready to 
 go as he is.*' 
 
 Three days passed, when Mrs. Martin 
 said the}^ had better send for James' 
 father. His father came, and the best 
 efforts were made for his restoration ; 
 but still he faded, and at length he was 
 wrapped in overcoats and blankets, and 
 kindly carried home. 
 
 ''Haye you heard from Jim to-day?" 
 said Tom Hardy to Walter, a fortnight 
 later. 
 
 "Yes," replied Walter, "I saw the 
 doctor this morning. He thinks he is 
 failing, and will not liye many weeks. I 
 shall go out Saturday night, and stay all 
 night with him." 
 
 ' ' I wish I could go, " said Tom. ' •' May 
 I go with you, Walter ?" 
 
 "Yes," said Walter, "I should be 
 
THE LAST FAKEWELL. 73 
 
 glad to have you. We will buy some 
 oranges and such things, and carry 
 out;' 
 
 So the reckless Tom took the Saturday 
 night, which was generally spent at the 
 tavern, for visiting the sick young Chris- 
 tian. It proved a blessed Saturday night 
 to the wayward 3^outh. 
 
 James was glad to see them, and ex- 
 tended his thin hand as cordially to Tom 
 as to Walter, though a look of surprise 
 passed over his face when he saw him. 
 
 James was very feeble, so that it was 
 necessary some one should sit up with 
 him through the night. Walter imme- 
 diately offered his services. 
 
 "No,'' said Tom, "you stay to-mor- 
 row, and sit up with him to-morrow 
 night. I must go back in the morning, 
 and I will take care of him to-night." 
 Then recollecting himself, he added, 
 "Perhaps you think I can't take care 
 
74 WALTEK MAETIN. 
 
 of yoii well, I am so rough. But I 
 can, and I will. I will be gentle as a 
 lamb." 
 
 The two friends looked at each other 
 for a moment, and James replied, "I 
 should be glad to have jou, if you are 
 willing;." 
 
 When all had retired, and thev were 
 left alone, Tom felt awkwardly. He 
 smoothed down the pillow and arranged 
 the clothes, but still did not speak. The 
 truth is, he had come all the way out 
 there to confess to James, and to ask his 
 forgiveness, but he did not know how to 
 begin. James spoke first. 
 
 "Tom," said he, ''the doctor says I 
 must die, and I feel it too." 
 
 Tom's firmness gave way, and tears 
 fell from his eyes as he grasped the wan 
 hand. "I know it," said he; "will you, 
 can you forgive me ?" 
 
 "Forgive you! "said James J "forwhat?'^ 
 
THE LAST FAEEWELL. 75 
 
 'For treating you so, ever since we 
 had that fight."' 
 
 "That fight/' said James ; ''why, I was 
 just as much to blame as you. How 
 wicked I was." 
 
 "Not so bad as I was," replied Tom. 
 "And how many times I have laughed 
 at you since about your religion." 
 
 "That was only because you did not 
 understand such things. Let me ask 
 you now to become a Christian, and give 
 up your wicked ways." 
 
 Then followed a long talk, at the close 
 of which James gave Tom his Bible, and 
 Tom promised to read it faithfully. 
 
 A month passed by, and James was 
 yet alive. Every day his faith grew 
 stronger, and the light from his dying- 
 bed was aiding to accomplish that which 
 the meetings had begun ; it was working 
 a revolution among the men and boys of 
 the spinning-room. Some of them visited 
 
76 WALTER MARTIN. 
 
 him, carrying their little tokens of good- 
 will, and receiving in return his testi- 
 mony of the sweet peace which he found 
 in the Redeemer, and earnest entreaties 
 to seek his love. 
 
 His serene state of mind was a general 
 topic of conversation among his friends ; 
 and when evening came, Tom and Ned 
 were no longer seen at the tavern. They 
 began to think they too must some time 
 die, and they wanted to be prepared. 
 Frank Martin too, often spent the hours 
 of the night by the side of the happy 
 sufferer, each time getting a clearer view 
 of the realities of another world. 
 
 The last day came at length, and the 
 loving spirit was gently released, and 
 returned to God who gave it, and to the 
 Saviour who redeemed it. 
 
LEAVING THE MILL. 7t 
 
 CHAPTER YI. 
 
 FROM THE MILL TO THE SCHOOL. 
 
 Surely and steadily the leaven of 
 reform was working among the band of 
 boys in the spinning-room. The effect 
 of the glorious departure of the young 
 Christian lingered like the departing 
 twilight of a radiant summer's evening. 
 The boys were more faithful at their 
 work; the men became more lenient; 
 there was less profanity, less kicking, 
 and less scolding. 
 
 Tom's reformation had produced a 
 wonderful influence. When he com- 
 menced reading his Bible, and threw 
 the weight of his strong will on the side 
 which Walter defended, there was a 
 general surprise ; but though his old inti- 
 mates sneered at him, and though his 
 
78 WALTER MARTIN. 
 
 love for liquors and cigars strong!}" tempt- 
 ed liim, lie firmly resisted every foe, both 
 inward and outward, read the treasured 
 Bible, the gift of the departed, and faith- 
 fully kept the promise made in the still 
 hours of that long -remembered night. 
 Xed and David too gradually changed, 
 under the strong influence of Tom and 
 his urgent appeals. 
 
 Thus a year escaped into the past. 
 "Walter had grown to be quite a tall boy, 
 and had been promoted from back-boy 
 to become himself a spinner, in charge of 
 a mule. And then came other changes, 
 to Walter agreeable, and important in 
 their results. 
 
 There was a depression in the times, 
 mercantile houses failing, money hard to 
 be obtained, and the manufacturing com- 
 pany decided to suppress a part of their 
 works. A portion of the mill was to re 
 main unused, and consequently many of 
 
LEAVING THE MILL. 19 
 
 the operatives must be dismissed from 
 employment. 
 
 "I suppose/' said Mr. Fiske to Frank 
 Martin one morning, ''that we shall stop 
 about half the mules in our room, and 
 one or two in the lower spinning-room. 
 It is hard to say who must leave ; the men 
 will hardly know how to find employ- 
 ment, and I dislike to say who shall go." 
 
 "I heard Walter say he hoped you 
 would send him away," replied Frank. 
 
 " Ah, why does he want to go ?" 
 
 "He wants to go to school; and he 
 says father will never be willing as long 
 as he can have work to do here. Father 
 likes to see us all earning." 
 
 "Very well," said Mr. Fiske, "let 
 Walter be one to go then." 
 
 Presently Harry Martin came running 
 up the stairs from the lower spinning- 
 room, where he had so quietly • worked 
 hitherto. 
 
80 WALTER MARTIN. 
 
 ''Mr. Fiske," said he, "I understand 
 there is to be a mule stopped in our 
 room." 
 
 "Yes,"' said Mr. Fiske, ''I suppose 
 there must be." 
 
 "Well, I have come up to ask you if 
 I might be the one excused?" 
 
 "Why, I have just excused Walter. 
 Do YOU want to go to school too?" 
 
 "No, sir, I want to go to New York, 
 where my brother is. I have wanted to 
 go for a long time, and this is just the sea- 
 son to suit me. Up in the Saranac region 
 where he is, there is plenty of game, and 
 splendid fish, and big forests. He is tak- 
 ing deer now all the time, and I must go." 
 
 "Yery well then," said Mr. Fiske; 
 "you are a prime workman, Harry, and 
 I should like to keep you ; but it is bet- 
 ter to send away those who want to go 
 than those who do not, so you can go." 
 
 Mr. Martin was in great consternation 
 
LEAVING THE MILL. 81 
 
 when it was announced to liim at the din- 
 ner-table that Walter and Harry had. 
 both left the mill. 
 
 ''I don't know how we shall get 
 along, " said he, ' ' if you all do so. Times 
 are hard, and you can't find so profitable 
 employment anywhere else." 
 
 ''I do n't want employment," said Wal- 
 ter, ' ' I want to go to school ; and the old 
 mill is in trouble. I am glad I can get 
 away. If the work had not stopped I 
 should never have dared to ask to be 
 excused." 
 
 "If yoi: go to school a while," said 
 Mr. Martin, ''what then?" 
 
 ''I do not know what then," replied 
 Walter; ''we will see if I know any 
 thing first. '^ 
 
 "I think he had better go to school," 
 said his mother; "he has wanted to go 
 for a long time." 
 
 "Well," replied Mr. Martin, "I sup- 
 
 W. Martin. Q 
 
82 WALTER MARTIN. 
 
 pose lie must then. But what are you 
 going to do, Harry?'' 
 
 '* Why, sir, I think I '11 go up to the 
 Saranac region. They are bagging the 
 game there, and sending it down the 
 Hudson rapidly." 
 
 ''Oh, Harry," said his father, "it is 
 bad enough to have one son off there in 
 the woods. I do n't want another there. 
 I want my boys to stay with me." 
 
 '' I do n't know but he had better go," 
 said Mrs. Martin. "I have many anx- 
 ious days and nights about our lonely one 
 there, and if Harry is with him they can 
 be company for each other, and take care 
 of each other if they are sick." 
 
 Mr. Martin yielded; and then Nat, 
 who was almost eighteen, put in his plea 
 for a few months' visit to the Saranac 
 with his brother. This too was allowed, 
 and only Frank and Herbert were left to 
 follow the routine of the mill. 
 
LEAVING THE MILL. 83 
 
 Wajter felt like a new being. The bur- 
 den of an uncongenial mode of labor was 
 removed from his shoulders, and his spir- 
 its rebounded with an elasticity he had 
 never felt before. He collected his books 
 together, and kneeling in his chamber, 
 thanked God for opening to him this op- 
 portunity of improving his mind, and 
 prayed that he might have grace and 
 strength to improve it aright, and might 
 become an honor to his Saviour and a 
 blessing to the world. 
 
 Walter hardly knew where to place 
 himself, or what rank he could take in 
 school. His studies had always been so 
 much by himself, that he felt a diffidence 
 about comparing himself with those of 
 more favored opportunities. He expect- 
 ed to be far behind them, but determined 
 to exert himself and keep as near them 
 as possible. 
 
 He was agreeably surprised therefore 
 
84 WALTER MARTIN. 
 
 when the teacher, after a brief examina- 
 tion, assigned him to the first English 
 class in his school. He feared Mr. Train 
 was mistaken, and had placed him too 
 high. 
 
 "I have never been in school much, 
 sir," said he; *'I am afraid that is too high 
 for me.'^ 
 
 "You have studied by yourself, you 
 told me." 
 
 " Yes, sir," said "Walter, '' I have had 
 no teacher." 
 
 ''But you have been a thorough stu- 
 dent. In whatever branch I have ques- 
 tioned you, I find you have a perfect un- 
 derstanding. I should advise you to 
 commence on Latin. You have not 
 studied the language, you say ?" 
 
 " If you please, sir," said Walter, '' I 
 should prefer a term under you in the 
 common 'branches first. I should like 
 your instructions in English grammar, 
 
LEAVING THE MILL. 85 
 
 and such branches as are pursued in dis- 
 trict schools. If I can become fitted for 
 it, I should like to teach.'' 
 
 '' As you please/' said Mr. Train. '' I 
 have no doubt but you are as well fitted 
 to teach now as half our teachers; and 
 half of the other half," he added, smiling. 
 
 Walter seized upon his studies with 
 avidity. As the parched earth absorbs 
 the falling rain, his thirsty mind drank 
 in the instructions of his teacher. 
 
 ''I never saw any thing like it," re- 
 marked he; '' if he should teach with the 
 same avidity that he studies, he would 
 be the best teacher in town." 
 
 This remark, was made in the hearing 
 of a gentleman who, a few days after, was 
 in a district three miles out from the vil- 
 lage where they were wanting a teacher. 
 
 "Our means are not large," observed 
 Mr. Brown, one of the committee; "we 
 cannot afford the highest price for one of 
 
86 WALTEPw MAETIN. 
 
 the first »teacliers, and yet we want a 
 good one." 
 
 The gentleman told him of the remark 
 which Mr. Train had made with regard 
 to Walter Martin. 
 
 '' Walter Martin," replied Mr. Brown ; 
 *' I know him very well. He is a fine 
 little fellow, but I didn't know he was 
 qualified to teach." 
 
 " It seems he has qualified himself," 
 replied the gentleman. "Mr. Train 
 places him in the front rank of his Eng- 
 lish scholars, and is anxious he should 
 have a school, to prevent his going back 
 into the mill." 
 
 ''I tell you, wife," said Mr. Brown, 
 "he is just the one for us. He can board 
 in our family. I *11 ride out and see him 
 this evening. Don't you want to go and 
 call upon Mrs. Martin?" 
 
 "Yes, I have been wishing all day 
 that you would invite me to ride." 
 
LEAVING THE MILL. Si 
 
 That evening the agreement was com- 
 pleted, and Walter was so moderate in 
 his price, that it was found they could 
 have four months of school, which sent 
 • Mr. Brown home in high spirits. He lost 
 no time in communicating to his neigh- 
 bors the rare bargain he had made, and 
 the long school they would have ; being 
 careful to add that he boarded the teach- 
 er a little under price, which would also 
 help to lengthen the term. 
 
 Walter sought his pillow that evening 
 with new feelings in his heart. He had 
 wanted a school, but now that it had 
 come he almost shrank from the under- 
 taking. 
 
 ''I am so young," he thought, "will 
 the scholars fear and respect me?'^ 
 
 Then he remembered the Saviour who 
 had so often been his refuge, and kneel- 
 ing before him he thanked him for giv- 
 ing him this school, and prayed for assist- 
 
88 WALTEK MAKTIN. 
 
 ance and a blessing in the discharge of 
 its duties. 
 
 The fall term of the academy closed 
 the week previous to the annual Thanks- 
 giving. Nat had just returned from his 
 Saranac tour, and Ellen came home, so 
 that all but two gathered round the 
 Thanksgiving board. 
 
 The Monday after Thanksgiving, Wal- 
 ter entered upon his new scene of labor. 
 Mr. and Mrs. Brown gave him a cordial 
 welcome, and in the school-room he was 
 greeted with smiling eyes from the youth 
 of the district, who were already in their 
 seats, awaiting him. He opened the 
 school with prayer, and soon found him- 
 self quite at ease. 
 
 He had his own ideas of teaching, de- 
 rived perhaps from studying so much 
 by himself. He determined that what- 
 ever he taught should be thoroughly 
 taught, and he threw into his school so 
 
LEAVING THE MILL. 89 
 
 mucli zeal and earnestness of purpose, 
 that the scholars, catching his spirit, stud- 
 ied and learned as they had never done 
 before. 
 
 "You are doing wonders in our school,'^ 
 said a farmer to him one day. "My 
 children never learned so before. What 
 do you do to them ?" 
 
 " Come in some day, and see," replied 
 Walter. 
 
 "I will," said he, pleased with the in- 
 vitation ; and soon the scholars were sur- 
 prised to see the farmer and his wife 
 walk into the school. The invitation 
 was extended to others so cordially that 
 they could not refuse ; and one after an- 
 other, the staid farmers found their way 
 to the school, where everybody was so 
 wide awake. The fame of these things 
 reached the village. 
 
 "You are succeeding finely, I hear," 
 said Mr. Train, as Walter called upon 
 
90 WALTER MAETIN. 
 
 him one Saturday evening. * ' How is it 
 you do it?'' 
 
 ''I hardly know, myself," replied Wal- 
 ter, ''except that I feel so much interest- 
 ed in my school, that I interest my pu- 
 pils. I have tried to teach them self- 
 respect, and that it is of the utmost im- 
 portance that they not only learn their 
 lessons, but learn them thoroughly ; and 
 that they strive to become useful in the 
 world, and to be noble men and women, 
 remembering that they are accountable 
 to God." 
 
 "You have struck* the right chord," 
 said Mr. Train; "it is far better than 
 scolding and whipping. May Grod give 
 you grace to persevere." 
 
 "Thank you," replied Walter. "I 
 called to ask you to lend me your 
 physiological charts; I have promised 
 my first class some lectures on physiol- 
 ogy.'' 
 
LEAVING THE MILL. 91 
 
 "Certainly/' said Mr. Train, "I am 
 happy to lend them." 
 
 Walter thanked him, and hastened 
 home to his mother. 
 
 "Mother," said he, " are not the weeks 
 long without me ?" 
 
 "They would be, my son, only T 
 know you are happy in your occupa- 
 tion ; and what is your happiness is 
 mine. I hear that you are succeeding 
 finely," said she, " and I am very happy 
 to know it." 
 
 " I have tried to do well, mother. 
 God opened the way for me, and I ought 
 to do all I can." 
 
 At the annual town-meeting, a brief 
 notice of each school was usually read 
 in presence of the assembled voters of 
 the town. Walter was anxious to know 
 what was said of his school, and he 
 crowded in among the men, that he 
 might distinctly understand the reader. 
 
02 WALTER MARTIN. 
 
 He found that his school was ranked as 
 the second in town. 
 
 "Only one teacher better than I am, 
 and he an experienced teacher," said 
 Walter to his mother, in reporting to 
 her what he had heard. "Now I can 
 easily get a school another winter." 
 
 "I am very glad," she replied, "both 
 for your sake and m}^ own." 
 
THE CHASTENING. 93 
 
 CHAPTER YII. 
 
 THE CHASTENING. 
 
 Walter had now earned enough to 
 keep him at the academy until another 
 winter, and the consent of his father and 
 mother was easily obtained to this plan. 
 Both were pleased with his success, and 
 were anxious he should have all the ad- 
 vantages they could secure for him. His 
 teacher, and others who had become in- 
 terested in him, advised him to prepare 
 for a college course. 
 
 He was in doubt respecting this plan. 
 It seemed to him a great undertaking, 
 with no available resources except win- 
 ter teaching. He must have clothes and 
 books ; even his preparatory studies 
 could not be completed in his own vil- 
 lage, and if he went away there would 
 
94 WALTER MAETIN. 
 
 be the expenses of his board in addition. 
 He could not see how he could even pre- 
 pare for college, or how go through it if 
 he was prepared. 
 
 Mr. Train advised him not to look for- 
 ward so far as that, but to commence, 
 and God would open a way for him in 
 his providence. He accordingly enter- 
 ed upon the study of Latin and the 
 higher mathematics, and so continued 
 through the season, until another winter 
 approached. 
 
 There was another subject upon which 
 he had not yet decided, and which troub- 
 led his mind with a continual anxiety. 
 He had not yet made a public profession 
 of religion. He was anxious to form an 
 opinion upon the respective merits of 
 the several denominations ; and he read 
 various authors, examined articles of 
 faith, and studied inquiringly into the 
 differences which separated the many 
 
THE CHASTENING. 95 
 
 churches. But the more he examined, 
 the more puzzled he became. The pastor 
 upon whose Diinistrations he attended, 
 conversed with him on the subject. He 
 advised him to put away every theologi- 
 cal book but one, and that the Bible. 
 "Read that," said he, "and that alone. 
 It is simple in all the ideas necessary for 
 our lives here, and presents the great 
 truths fresh from the Creator. Above 
 all, pray. Pray for enlightening wis- 
 dom, pray for the Holy Spirit, which 
 will guide you into all truth.'' 
 
 Walter followed his pastor's advice; 
 and Grod, who saw his struggles, led him 
 into paths of light and peace. 
 
 In another part of the town there was 
 a small but beautiful village, containing 
 a school-house, a few dwellings, one or 
 i:wo stores, and a church. The citizens 
 went to the main village to vote ; and here 
 in town-meeting they had listened to 
 
96 WALTER MARTIN\ 
 
 the annual report of the schools, and the 
 high commendation of young Walter, and 
 it was agreed among them to seek his 
 services for the ensuing winter in their 
 school. It was an excellent situation, 
 much superior to the one he had occu- 
 pied the previous year ; the offer of it 
 was pleasing to him, and was at once 
 accepted. 
 
 There were yet three months before 
 the school was to open, and the earnest 
 student renewed his zeal and study, giv- 
 ing special attention to algebra, geome- 
 try, and trigonometry. Meantime he 
 loved the house of God, interested him- 
 self in the Sabbath-school, and had a 
 ready word of kindness and counsel for 
 every one in trouble ; but like the weary 
 dove, he as yet found no rest for the sole 
 of his foot in the church of Christ. He 
 wanted a home with the people of God ; 
 but where? 
 
THE CHASTENING. 91 
 
 In the midst of these occupations he 
 was brought to a sudden pause. In the 
 chamber of feverish agony lay his dar- 
 ling brother Frank, the first-born of the 
 sons. 
 
 Every heart was hushed, and every la- 
 bor suspended, while the band of broth- 
 ers united in care for the sick. But 
 the fearful day came, the last day, and 
 tlie twilight of an autumnal eve threw its 
 dreary shadows into the room, where, 
 amid the assembled family and friends, 
 the sufferer lay, with his head upon his 
 mother's shoulder. The eyes of the dy- 
 ing young man glowed with unwonted 
 brightness, when, meeting the gaze of his 
 brother Kat, he said, 
 
 ''Xat, this is a hard spot, the hardest 
 in which a man can be." Then looking 
 wistfully np to his mother, she replied 
 with the words, 
 
9S WALTER MAETIN. 
 
 " Jesus can make a dying bed 
 Feel soft as downy pillows are, 
 While on his breast I lean my head, 
 And breathe my life out sweetly there." 
 
 He bowed his head in assent to the 
 truth of the precious verse, and was 
 gone, for ever gone. 
 
 There was sadness in the hearts of the 
 stricken family. This was the first death 
 in the cemented circle. After-break- 
 ages might follow, but they would touch 
 a fractured ring, tremulous with the lin- 
 gering vibrations of the first shock. 
 
 The young teacher returned to his 
 school with new views of life. Death had 
 come very near to him, and at its call 
 he renewedly consecrated himself to God, 
 praying for grace to live the good man's 
 life, that he might die the good man's 
 death. 
 
 He found in his school plenty of labor 
 to occupy his time, and break up any 
 
THE CHASTENING. 99 
 
 lethargy which might steal over him. 
 There were a large number of pupils, 
 many of them quite advanced in their 
 studies ; and he was obliged to be active 
 and industrious, that they might be prop- 
 erly instructed in the variety of branches 
 pursued. Thus he was compelled to 
 banish the inertia consequent upon his 
 late bereavement, and resume the elas- 
 ticity so necessary to success. 
 
 "The selection of my boarding-place 
 must have been by a higher power," he 
 remarked to a friend visiting his school, 
 "for my especial benefit. My host is 
 'a host in himself,^ and I find myself 
 strengthening and improving daily under 
 his care. He is just the guide I needed." 
 
 "You must be spending a pleasant 
 winter then," replied his friend, "for I 
 see your school is very agreeable. I am 
 glad of your success." 
 
 When Walter returned to tea, his wel- 
 
100 WALTEK MAETIN. 
 
 come was cordial. Mr. Cliilcls, who was 
 the pastor, had completed his prepara- 
 tion for the next Sabbath, and was just 
 in the mood for an evening's chat. 
 
 "So, YOU have finished another day's 
 work," he remarked, as Walter entered 
 the sitting-room. "So have I. I have 
 been pressing on to-day, to be ready for 
 the Sabbath; and I think this evening 
 you and I will spend with the ladies. 
 
 "Thank you,"' said Walter; "I shall 
 be happy to do so." 
 
 "Yes; I knew you would. It is not 
 well for you to shut yourself up in your 
 room all these evenings, poring over your 
 books. It will make you morbid ; and a 
 man with 'the blues' cannot live as a 
 Christian should." 
 
 "I see," said Walter, "you do not 
 believe in a dull and gloomy Christi- 
 anity." 
 
 "Indeed I do not," replied he warmly. 
 
THE CHASTENING. 101 
 
 "Christ did not come into the world to 
 make us desponding and sad. He came 
 to make us happy ; and how can we be 
 happy unless we are cheerful? When 
 we realize the bounties of our heavenly 
 Father's bestowing in this life, and con- 
 sider that beyond it we have the promise 
 of eternal life, how can we be otherwise 
 than joyful? I think you told me you 
 learned to love Jesus long ago, but have 
 not yet united yourself to his church.'' 
 
 "Yes, sir,'' replied Walter, "that is 
 the case. There are some points which 
 I am unable to decide, and I'm waiting 
 to see more clearly." 
 
 "Don't wait too long for that, my 
 young friend. You must not stay out in 
 the cold, freezing your heart for the want 
 of Christian sympathy. Decide upon 
 something, and get where you can feel at 
 home. It will do you good. As a man 
 is happier for a loving home in this world, 
 
102 WALTER MAETIX. 
 
 SO a Christian is happier to have a lov- 
 ing home in the bosom of Christ's church. 
 It is the command of our Saviour. One 
 of his last acts was the institution of the 
 Lord's supper ; and he who neglects this, 
 neglects one of his greatest earthly priv- 
 ileges." 
 
 "I am aware of it," replied Walter; 
 "but there are conflicting views held by 
 the different churches, between which I 
 am unable to decide." 
 
 "This is probably the result of your 
 early education," said Mr. Childs. "Not 
 having been accustomed to attend a 
 church regularly in your early days, you 
 have not learned to love one more than 
 another. But I hear the tea-bell. The 
 ladies are expecting us, and after tea we 
 will have some music." 
 
 Mr. Childs led the way to the tea- 
 table, followed by the young teacher ; and 
 as his genial smile shed its lustre over the 
 
THE CHASTENING. 103 
 
 bountiful board, and his voice invoked 
 the blessing of the Most High upon the 
 food before them, Walter felt how beau- 
 tiful were the Christian virtues, when dis- 
 played in the every-day duties of life. 
 
 "Besides claiming you for this even- 
 ing," said Mr. Childs as he filled Wal- 
 ter's "iDlate, "I must speak for you to-mor- 
 row, as I believe you have no school. I 
 want to take you round among the peo- 
 ple.*' 
 
 "Thank you," said Walter; "but I 
 suppose my mother will expect me home 
 to-morrow." 
 
 "Ah, well, you ought to go home, to 
 be sure, for your mother's sake. But 
 we'll make a few calls first, and then 
 Willie shall take the pony and drive you 
 out home, if you please." 
 
 Walter accepted the proposal, and 
 found his heart growing warm and cheer- 
 ful, in social contact with the generous, 
 
104 WALTER MAETIN. 
 
 open-hearted, hospitable home scenes by 
 which he was surronnclecl. 
 
 ''Now, Ada," said Mr. Childs to his 
 daughter, "we hope you will furnish us 
 some music. Our young friend here will 
 supply the tenor, Miss Abigail," nodding 
 to the sister of his wife, "will give the 
 soprano, and I think I can add a little 
 bass." 
 
 The piano was rich in its tones, the 
 music selected of a choice character, and 
 Walter enjoyed an hour or two of min- 
 gled conversation and music with a keen 
 zest. 
 
 "These evenings are my recreation," 
 said Mr. Childs. ' ' They give me a pleas- 
 ant relief when I am wearied with the 
 labors of my calling." 
 
 Thus the wise pastor sought to dispel 
 the morbid gloom of the young teach- 
 er, and to prepare him for a candid 
 and healthful examination of the truths 
 
THE CHASTENING. 105 
 
 which he did not fail carefully to incul- 
 cate. 
 
 Before spring Walter had united him- 
 self to the visible church of Christ; and 
 soon found, in his growing love for the 
 people of his choice, that minor differ- 
 ences of opinion vanished before the 
 warm sun of Christ's love. 
 
 At the next annual town-meeting, 
 Walter had the happiness of hearing his 
 school ranked first on the list. 
 
 ''I am truly thankful for your suc- 
 cess," said his mother, when he had re- 
 peated to her the encomiums bestowed 
 upon his school by the committee. "It 
 is from the same wise source from which 
 comes down every good and perfect 
 gift.'' * 
 
106 WALTEE MARTIN. 
 
 CHAPTER YIII, 
 
 PEOGEESS. 
 
 Walter seemed now to be fairly on 
 the course lie had so long desired to 
 traverse. He had been successful in 
 teaching, and his heart warmed with 
 love for the work. 
 
 "There can be no higher privilege," 
 he said, "than to lead young immortal 
 minds in the ways of knowledge and vir- 
 tue. They love to learn; all children 
 love to learn, if the instructions are made 
 interesting to them. If the teacher is ear- 
 nest and zealous, the pupils catch the spir- 
 it, and will follow wherever they af e led." 
 
 The pastor of his church urged upon 
 him the importance of preparing for the 
 ministry ; but he could not feel confident 
 that he had a call to the work. 
 
PROGRESS. 107 
 
 *'It is a noble, a holy work," said lie, 
 ''but I cannot feel sure that God has 
 called me to it. Indeed I do not yet 
 see clearly to what he has called me. 
 I have succeeded as a teacher. I love 
 the business, and as I consider it a 
 work requiring careful preparation and 
 constant advance, perhaps I may per- 
 sonally be as much profited in that as 
 in any thing ; and I may also be as use- 
 ful." 
 
 •'It is certainly a useful occupation," 
 replied the pastor, "but to stand as a 
 watchman on the walls of Zion, is an 
 honor and a privilege far above price. 
 It is not without its trials, but the ser- 
 vant of God must expect trials. I ad- 
 vise you to make it a subject of prayer, 
 and if you decide upon the ministry, I 
 will assist you in a collegiate and pre- 
 paratory course. There is a fund for 
 this purpose, which I am enabled par- 
 
108 WALTER MAKTIN. 
 
 tiallv to control, and which I can obtain 
 for your benefit.'' 
 
 Walter thanked him, and promised to 
 consider the matter. He felt grateful 
 for the high regard his pastor had ex- 
 pressed for him, but he could not feel 
 quite at liberty to accept the offer. 
 
 ''Perhaps there is no better way for 
 obtaining a finished education,'' said his 
 mother. "A life spent in the ministry 
 certainly can be useful." 
 
 "True," he replied, "but I do not feel 
 sure that I have a call to the ministry. 
 It would be wrong for me to accept these 
 terms, unless I can fulfil the obligations 
 they impose upon me. I do feel as though 
 there was a work for me to do some- 
 where, but I cannot see what it is. I 
 think I had better continue in my pres- 
 ent course till light dawns upon me. 
 We cannot find other duties by desert- 
 ing the present ones which surround us; 
 
PEOGKESS. 109 
 
 but if we are faithful at our posts, our 
 course will be made clear to us. I hope 
 I am growing spiritually stronger every 
 day." 
 
 ''TV;ell," replied Mrs. Martin, "you 
 ought to be your own judge. It is not 
 the college that makes the man, I know, 
 and you must follow your own desires." 
 
 ''I think, mother, that Providence will 
 open a way for me to do whatever he has 
 assigned as my portion in the life that 
 now is." 
 
 He was strongly urged by others to 
 prepare for a college course. It seemed 
 to them that his natural abilities, and his 
 devotion to study, both warranted and 
 required that he should use the best 
 advantages his country could bestov/, 
 whether he afterwards entered on the 
 ministry or some other profession. But 
 he replied: 
 
 "I believe I shall follow the guidance 
 
110 WALTER MAETIN. 
 
 of events, rather than attempt to fashion 
 them. If there is a work for me to do, 
 my Father will make it manifest to me. 
 I am inclined to the belief that my 
 province is teaching. To lead yonng 
 minds in the way of knowledge, to 
 guide 3^oung feet in the paths of virtue 
 and truth, not forgetting to point them 
 to Jesus, is a great work, if truly fol- 
 lowed." 
 
 Walter continued his studies this sea- 
 son with the same assiduity which had 
 characterized the previous years, grow- 
 ing in grace, and in the "nurture and 
 admonition of the Lord." Greek was 
 now added to his other branches, and he 
 finally concluded to follow the counsel of 
 so many friends, and prepare for col- 
 lege. Mr. Train was pleased with his 
 decision, and used his best efforts for his 
 advancement. 
 
 Early in the autumn he received a call 
 
PEOGRESS. Ill 
 
 from bis friends Mr. and Mrs. Childs, 
 who found him deeply absorbed in study, 
 and playfully reproached him for neg- 
 lecting to visit them. Before leaving, 
 Mr. Childs said to him, "I have been 
 deputed by our district, unanimously, to 
 request you to teach our school again the 
 coming winter. And Mrs. Childs re- 
 quests your company in our family 
 again." 
 
 *'I shall be very happy to accept both 
 offers," replied Walter. "I could not 
 l^lease myself better in any situation." 
 
 "We are happy to hear you say so," 
 said Mrs. Childs; "the children are 
 much attached to you, and we are pleas- 
 ed with your good influence over them." 
 
 After they were gone, Walter went to 
 his room, and knelt in thankfulness for 
 his many blessings, for kind and loving 
 friends, and for a heart to do God's will ; 
 and then he prayed for guidance in his 
 
112 WALTER MARTIN. 
 
 vocation, and that he might be permitted 
 to lead the young minds of his charge to 
 a love for Jesus, and to a desire for use- 
 fulness in the world. A trusting seren- 
 ity stole into his mind ; and he felt 
 strengthened for a renewal of his labors, 
 by the assurance that the heavenly Shep- 
 herd was leading him gently up the steep 
 acclivities of life. 
 
 The autumn wore away, his school re- 
 commenced under prospering circum- 
 stances, and he applied himself with un- 
 usual assiduity, that he might sustain the 
 reputation he had previously won. 
 
 During this season a second blow fell 
 upon the mourning family of Mr. Martin. 
 Harry, prostrated by a falling tree in 
 the forests of the Saranac, was brought 
 home a lifeless form, to be laid beside his 
 brother Frank. The half-healed wound 
 of one year ago was opened afresh. The 
 mother became mute with intense grief, 
 
PROGRESS. 113 
 
 and the remaining brothers seemed to say, 
 as they gazed upon each other, ''Which of 
 us will be summoned next?'' 
 
 How deep were the lessons which 
 the young teacher garnered from these 
 repeated blows of an unseen Providence. 
 Life in this world, which might end at 
 any moment, assumed a new importance. 
 Every day given him seemed a treasure, 
 a blank for him to fill with duties, which 
 must be immediately performed, lest 
 there come the relentless severing of the 
 great messenger Death. 
 
 "Mother," said he, "our circle nar- 
 rows, and we who are left must draw 
 more closely around you, and support 
 you with our love.'' 
 
 "We must endeavor to sustain her,'' 
 he said to his brothers and sisters, " un- 
 der these bereavements, as far as possi- 
 ble. What should we do without her? 
 She is one of the best of mothers." 
 
lU WALTER MARTIN. 
 
 This was Walter's increasing sense of 
 his duty. His father and his mother 
 must be cherished and loved ; and every 
 day he was conscious of an increasing 
 regard for their happiness. 
 
 His success in his school was equal to 
 that in either of the preceding terms, and 
 he now began to realize the substantial 
 benefits of a well-earned reputation. He 
 felt a security in his position, and con- 
 tinued for two years more in the same 
 routine of studying and teaching. He 
 improved steadily and surely, and now 
 began to think seriously of entering col- 
 lege. He thought if he could obtain one 
 or two terms of more advanced instruc- 
 tion than his own town afforded, his 
 preparations would be quite satisfac- 
 tory, for in mathematics he had gone 
 beyond the requirements for entering a 
 college course. 
 
 The last few months of the second year 
 
PEOGEESS. 115 
 
 brought additional changes in his loved 
 home. The gay Herbert had yielded to 
 the ravages of disease, and had gone to 
 his rest, with a happy trust in his Sav- 
 iour, and a sweet consciousness of 'his 
 never-failing presence. It was almost 
 difficult to mourn for one who seemed 
 so joyful in the near presence of the 
 happy land, and who left so sure a testi- 
 mony of the blessedness of the Chris- 
 tian's trust. 
 
 Ere long Walter's brother I^at felt the 
 weakness of disease stealing over him, 
 and lest he too should fall a victim, he 
 obtained his parents' ready consent that 
 he should seek the far plains of Minne- 
 sota, if haply in that region of pure air 
 he might regain his strength, and be 
 spared a little longer. Ellen and Lizzie 
 had gone to homes of their own choosing ; 
 so that Walter and his mother were left 
 alone in their own home to sustain the 
 
116 WALTER MARTIN. 
 
 sinking father, and keep alive the em- 
 bers of the household fire. It ^Yas a 
 great change for the ambitious young 
 man, but a change which taught him 
 patience, and developed a self-abandon- 
 ment more noble than mere learning 
 could give him. 
 
 "I had intended," said he to a friend 
 who called upon him, "to have been 
 away at school now ; but I read to my 
 mother such books as are interesting to 
 her, and remain with her as much as 
 possible, to comfort her, and assist her 
 in the care of my father." 
 
 ''It is a very sudden bereavement for 
 your mother, and for you all, to lose so 
 many in so brief a time,'' replied his 
 friend; ''and it seems but right that you 
 should remain at home ; but you must 
 not despair. I am sorry to see your 
 progress so suddenly interrupted." 
 
 "It is all for the best," replied Wal- 
 
PEOGRESS. in 
 
 ter; "discipline will strengthen me, and 
 I am sure I need strengthening." 
 
 A knock was heard at the door, and 
 Walter admitted his valued friend Mr. 
 Childs. 
 
 ''Ah, my young friend," said the gen- 
 erous man, shaking him heartily by the 
 hand, ''how do you do to-day? I have 
 come from home on purpose to see you. 
 You are again in the deep waters of 
 affliction, I hear." 
 
 "Yes, sir; our home has become very 
 much changed. I alone am left to my 
 mother, for my father is quite broken 
 and helpless." 
 
 "I am sorry to hear it; very sorry. 
 It breaks in upon your prospects and 
 plans with a sudden chill. I hope you 
 will not despond." 
 
 "No, sir, I think I do not. It hardly 
 seems right to think of myself, in these 
 bereavements of mv father aod mother. 
 
118 WALTER MAETIN. 
 
 One by one their cliilclren have departed, 
 until they are almost like the branches 
 of a leafless tree." 
 
 "Now no chastening for the present 
 seemeth joyous, but grievous ; never- 
 theless, afterwards it yieldeth the peace- 
 able fruit of righteousness," said the 
 kind man. "Come home with me, and 
 stay a day or two. Mrs. Childs and 
 Willie have sent an urgent request for 
 you." 
 
 ' ' Thank you, " said Walter j ' ' nothing 
 could give me greater pleasure. But it 
 would not be right for me to leave moth- 
 er alone, even for a day. Father is so 
 helpless, it is my duty to remain with 
 her." 
 
 "Well," said Mr. Childs, "I never saw 
 a cloud so dark but it broke away in 
 time. The night may linger, but the 
 dawn will surely come. Put your trust 
 on high. Keep up your courage; and if 
 
PROGKESS. 119 
 
 you can't come to me, I will come and 
 see you again ere long." 
 
 The cordial words of a friend so rich in 
 faith exerted a quickening influence over 
 Walter's energies, and he began gradu- 
 ally to look again for his books, and 
 to study by himself during the weeks 
 that followed ; and soon the promised 
 dawn of the morning glimmered on the 
 horizon. A letter came from Lizzie, a 
 welcome letter, having every margin and 
 corner filled. 
 
 Lizzie wrote that her husband was 
 about to change his business, and that it 
 was her earnest desire to come back to 
 her own home. Her husband had ex- 
 pressed his willingness to come, and they 
 only awaited mother's consent. 
 
 "Mother," said Walter, "it is one of 
 God's providences. It is a golden drop 
 among us. Lizzie will be such a comfort 
 to you." 
 
120 WALTER MAETIN. 
 
 "It is indeed a blessing,'' said Mrs. 
 Martin, " an unexpected blessing. Xow 
 you can be released and go to your 
 school, without that anxious care for me 
 which you otherwise would have had." 
 
 "I was not thinking of that, mother; 
 I was thinking how happy you would be, 
 how much Lizzie could do for^you that I 
 cannot do, and how the patter of little 
 Eddie's feet would occupy your atten- 
 tion ; and how beautifully you and father 
 are provided for." 
 
 So the unselfish mother thought only 
 of the happiness of her son, and the duti- 
 ful son considered the blessings which 
 would accrue to his mother. 
 
 Preparations were immediately made 
 for the reception of the loved ones, Wal- 
 ter interesting himself with his mother in 
 all the domestic arrangements, until the 
 glad day of the arrival came, bringing to 
 the home a renewed animation and life. 
 
PEOOEESS. 121 
 
 "Mother," said Walter, coming into 
 the house a few clays after Lizzie's arri- 
 val, "I thought I could not leave you to 
 teach this winter, and have refused all 
 offers that would take me away ; but to- 
 day I have been requested to teach in 
 our village, where I can board at home. 
 How is it, Lizzie, do you want to board 
 the schoolmaster this winter?" 
 "That depends upon who it is." 
 "Suppose it is the gentleman present?" 
 "I should be happy to keep him in 
 the family," said she. 
 
 "Behold how the Lord provideth," 
 added Mrs. Martin, for affliction had un- 
 sealed her lips, and she no longer hesi- 
 tated to speak the thoughts of her heart. 
 Affliction also had given Walter a faith 
 he would never have learned in contin- 
 ued prosperity. 
 
122 WALTEE MAETIN. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE ENLISTMENT. 
 
 A WEEK of his school had passed away, 
 and the interest he felt in his classes, and 
 in the well-being of the young charge 
 committed to his care, roused again his 
 energies, and restored his natural im- 
 pulse for books. 
 
 '*I have got my school established," 
 said he, "the classes are all in work- 
 ing order, and I must study evenings. 
 1 11 borrow a nook here by the side of 
 your evening lamp, if you please, Liz- 
 zie, and try some more of those prob- 
 lems." 
 
 ' ' Certainly, " said she ; ' ' but I am afraid 
 you will be a dull companion. I shall 
 want to talk." 
 
 ''If you must have a noise then," said 
 
THE ENLISTMENT. 123 
 
 he, "suppose that I read to you, in some- 
 thing interesting. Here is a Life of 
 "Washington, and here is the best of all 
 books, the Bible. '^ 
 
 "Thank you," said she, "you can 
 make your own selection, if you will 
 only read something. When I have seen 
 that father is comfortable, mother and I 
 will be ready to listen." 
 
 "The programme for the evenings this 
 winter," said Walter, "unless we are in- 
 terrupted by callers, must be reading and 
 study." 
 
 "I have been thinking," said Mrs. Mar- 
 tin, " that if I have Lizzie and the good 
 son she has brought me, to help and care 
 for me, and little Eddie to cheer me, 
 you need not remain at home after 3^our 
 school closes. You can go to school if 
 you wish, as you was intending to do 
 last year.". 
 
 "I should like to go, mother, if you 
 
124 WALTER MARTIN. 
 
 think you will not be lonely without me. 
 There is a club of young men forming 
 to go from here. They are to board 
 themselves, in order to reduce expenses, 
 and I should like to join them. It is 
 only twenty miles to the school by the 
 railroad, so that I shall not be far 
 away. I am sure that with a full course 
 of preparatory study I can be more use- 
 ful to the world, in some way, than with- 
 out it. I have not yet visited Mr. Childs, 
 as he requested me. I think I will go 
 and take tea with him Saturday." 
 
 "I think you had better," said Mrs. 
 Martin ; "he is a kind friend and a good 
 adviser." 
 
 Saturday soon came, and Walter found 
 himself once more in the cheerful family 
 circle of his hospitable friend. The chil- 
 dren collected around him, and Mrs. 
 Childs greeted him with her kindest 
 welcome. 
 
THE ENLISTMENT. 125 
 
 ''I wish," said Willie, "you were 
 teaching our school again this winter, as 
 you used to." 
 
 "So do I," said Mr. Childs, "but he 
 is needed at home. He is a great com- 
 fort there." 
 
 "I remember," said Willie, "when 
 Jack Dooley wanted to read a newspa- 
 per in school." 
 
 " Do you?" said Walter. "Jack did n't 
 like me very well that day." 
 
 "No," said Willie ; "but he liked you 
 after that, and he likes you now better 
 than any other teacher." 
 
 "I did not punish him." 
 
 "No ; you just looked him steadily 
 in the eye till he yielded, and handed 
 you the paper. But he was such a big, 
 stout fellow, we were all frightened ; for 
 we thought you could not punish him, 
 and that he would not obey unless he 
 was punished." 
 
126 WALTEE MAETIX. 
 
 ''What do you suppose I was think- 
 ing, while I was looking at him?" 
 
 "I don't know," said Willie; ''what 
 were you?" 
 
 "At first I thought, 'You are a great, 
 strong boy, stronger than I am ; if I at- 
 tempt to punish you and you resist, I 
 shall get into trouble ; if I give up with- 
 out trying, my authority over you is 
 lost : and then I lifted my heart to Grod 
 for guidance and assistance in the hour 
 of my helplessness, and help came. Jack 
 and I became the best of friends after 
 that." 
 
 "I know it," said Willie; "I could 
 not understand that at all." 
 
 "I will tell you," said Walter. "I 
 watched my opportunity, and had some 
 private talks with him. I spoke to his 
 heart; told him for what life was given 
 us ; spoke of Jesus, of our need of salva- 
 tion through his name, of the eternal fu- 
 
THE ENLISTMENT. 12t 
 
 ture, and what is required of us in tliis 
 present life. Your father has told you 
 all these things from your infancy, Wil- 
 lie ; but Jack had known very little of 
 them.'^ 
 
 ''Perhaps that is what has improved 
 him so much," said Willie; "he is quite 
 a different boy from what he used to 
 be." 
 
 * ' I think Willie and I must become his 
 friends," said Mr. Childs, "if that is the 
 case. I have always regarded him as a 
 kind of vagabond, who couldn't be im- 
 proved." 
 
 "You couldn't do a greater deed of 
 charity than to help him along a little," 
 replied Walter. 
 
 "We never had a teacher that won 
 the hearts of the children as you did," 
 observed Mrs. Childs. 
 
 "Perhaps you never had one who 
 tried as much to win them," replied 
 
128 WALTER MAllTIN. 
 
 Walter. ''The hearts of the children 
 was what I wanted. Then I was sure of 
 success, and possessed the ke}^ by which 
 I could wind and unwind them at my 
 pleasure. I always aimed to teach them 
 self-respect, and praised them when there 
 was a chance for it. There is no use in 
 constantly chiding children, and depreci- 
 ating their efforts. When they have re- 
 ally tried to do right, the teacher should 
 commend them. We all like to be praised, 
 and children are but miniature men and 
 women. They should be interested too 
 in something aside from their regular 
 lessons. They get tired of dull monot- 
 ony." 
 
 After some more pleasant conversation 
 about school matters, Mr. Childs asked 
 Walter, "What shall you do when your 
 present term closes?-' 
 
 "I think, sir, that I shall join a club 
 of young men who are going to the old 
 
THE ENLISTMENT. 129 
 
 standing academy twenty miles above 
 here, at Fairdale." 
 
 "That is a good plan. Do so, by all 
 means. If Willie was old enough, I 
 would send him with you. I hope you 
 will be in college ere long." 
 
 "Thank you, sir," said Walter, "for 
 your kind wishes. I also hope I may 
 be." 
 
 Walter's visit was a great benefit to 
 his depressed spirits, invigorating him 
 for renewed exertions, and restoring in 
 a measure his wonted energies. His 
 term of teaching glided swiftly to its 
 close, and a few weeks afterwards he 
 was busily at work in the academy. 
 Several of the young men of the club 
 were his acquaintances, the others soon 
 formed intimacies, and they became a 
 very harmonious club. 
 
 The academy had been long establish- 
 ed, was admirably provided with teach- 
 
130 WALTEE MAKTIN. 
 
 ers, and "Walter found himself advancing 
 rapidly. He continued there through 
 the season, with the exception of the 
 summer vacation, which he improved by 
 remaining at home and gladdening the 
 heart of his mother. Her happiness was 
 his highest wish, her comfort his con- 
 stant care. The increasing feebleness of 
 his father caused a double anxiety, lest 
 his mother too should be prostrated by 
 sorrow and care. 
 
 "Let me do all I can for you," he 
 would say to her. ''It belongs to me 
 now to be your burden-bearer. God has 
 laid it upon me, and I have no desire to 
 do otherwise." 
 
 Ah, how little does man know his own 
 heart, or understand his own future! 
 Young men living in ease and serenity, 
 and looking forward with high hopes to 
 the future ; and old men boasting of their 
 country, and trusting in its great strength : 
 
THE ENLISTMENT. 131 
 
 such vfere the men of our nation in the 
 autumn before the terrible rebellion broke 
 out, which made such sudden and fear- 
 ful changes. 
 
 When Walter assumed to be the bur- 
 den-bearer of his mother, he had no pre- 
 monition that another work would claim 
 his attention, or that he possibly could 
 consider another duty paramount to the 
 one now so high in his estimation. 
 
 Through the presidential campaign he 
 had watched with great interest the prog- 
 ress of the public mind ; laughing with oth- 
 ers at the threats of secession, and believ- 
 ing they were mere bravado. When the 
 voting time came, he went home with all 
 the eagerness of patriotic youth to exer- 
 cise the great prerogative of freemen at 
 the ballot-box. He cast in his vote, and 
 returned immediately to school. 
 
 But ere long the storm burst forth. 
 The war-cloud gathered blackness, and 
 
132 WALTEE MAETIN. 
 
 Spread over a larger and still larger ter- 
 ritory. The whole country was aroused 
 and alarmed, and when government call- 
 ed for an army of seventy-live thousand 
 men, to sustain and enforce its authority, 
 a new sense awoke in millions of minds 
 that we had something to defend that 
 was worth all the sacrifices it might re- 
 quire, however great. 
 
 Walter watched, and listened, and 
 thought. Mother, books, every thing 
 but country lost their wonted ascendency 
 in his heart. "What do I here?'^ said 
 he. ''Why do I wait? Is my blood 
 better than the blood of my compatriots, 
 that I should guard it with a jealous 
 care? Books! education! of what avail 
 is all that to me, Avith a country shatter- 
 ed and ruined by treason?" He piled 
 away his books, and took the cars for 
 home. 
 
 ''My son," said the startled mother, 
 
THE ENLISTMENT. Ig^ 
 
 "what has brought you home so soon? 
 You must be ill.'' 
 
 "Why, mother, this horrid war. It is 
 not right that I should be at school. 
 Our country needs me ; will you let me 
 go?'' 
 
 It was a most trying question. What 
 wonder that the oft-bereaved mother re- 
 plied, 
 
 "Walter, it is true. our country needs 
 men; but there are so many ready to 
 go, that I cannot think you are needed. 
 No, I cannot spare you. I have hoped 
 so much from you. You are all I have 
 of my long line of boys." 
 
 "I know it, mother, I know 'tis very 
 hard; but if our country is not saved, 
 you do not want a son. I am well and 
 strong. I look at my arms, my feet, and 
 my hands, and I see they are as well 
 fitted for duty as other men's. I am 
 ashamed to walk the streets and see my 
 
134 WALTER MARTIN. 
 
 friends who have enlisted, and I yet lin- 
 gering here;" 
 
 But when he saw how unconvinced 
 and distressed she was, his conscience 
 smote him. He thought perhaps his 
 duty was at home ; it could not lie in two 
 directions at the same time. Then he 
 saw his father, nervous and pale, and de- 
 cided to postpone enlisting, for the pres- 
 ent at least. 
 
 He went into the shed, and finding 
 there a quantity of wood not yet sawed, 
 he said to himself, "Now that I am here, 
 I will stay at home two or three days, 
 and saw and pile this wood. It will 
 seem natural to mother to have me 
 around at work, and compensate per- 
 haps for -the anxiety I have caused her ; 
 besides, the exercise will be beneficial 
 to my health. Then I will go back to 
 school." 
 
 The mother was comforted, and Wal- 
 
THE ENLISTMENT. 135 
 
 ter sawed on, sometimes cheerfully, some- 
 times dreamily pausing over tlie work as 
 he thoitght of his country. 
 
 Two days passed away, and he had 
 become quite calm, when he went out 
 into the village to call upon some friends 
 and get the papers. 
 
 Everybody was excited, the papers 
 were full of enthusiasm, and a large com- 
 pany was already formed in the town. 
 "Only for three months," said they. 
 "Come, Walter, join us. It is the duty 
 of every man. Watson will be our cap- 
 tain, and he is the very best man in the 
 town." 
 
 Walter knew that was true. A better 
 man could not be found, and some of the 
 first young men in the village had al- 
 ready enlisted. He returned home with 
 his ardor kindled anew, read the stirring 
 news in the papers, and went to his bed, 
 but not to sleep. The fire burned within 
 
136 WALTEE MARTIN. 
 
 him. "Mother and Lizzie are certainly 
 mistaken," he said; ''they do not under- 
 stand the country's peril. My duty tow- 
 ards my mother is to fight for her and 
 her home." 
 
 He had decided ; and when breakfast 
 was oyer, he said, ''Mother, I am going 
 out to put my name under Captain Wa,t- 
 
 son." 
 
 She looked at him calml}^, and replied, 
 "I have said all that I can, Walter. Go, 
 if you feel that you must." 
 
 He accepted her answer, and went out. 
 An hour after, he returned; the deed 
 was done. He had enlisted. 
 
THE CAMP. 137 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE CAMP. 
 
 We have seen Walter in the factory, 
 a steadfast witness for Jesus ; we have 
 seen him in school, training young minds 
 to virtue and true self-respect ; we have 
 had a glimpse of him in the filial duties 
 of home ; and we turn to him now in the 
 camp. 
 
 Mrs. Martin gave him no word of re- 
 proach ; she knew it was a sense of duty 
 that had taken him from her. She ask-* 
 ed when the company would leave town, 
 and he replied,* "In three days.'' Si- 
 lently she went about the necessary prep- 
 arations. Not a murmur, not a censure 
 escaped her ; but the compressed lips and 
 downcast eyes spoke the struggles of the 
 heart more plainly than words, and her 
 
138 WALTER MAETIN. 
 
 silent manner was more dreadful to Wal- 
 ter than open rebuke. He doubted more 
 and more wlietlier he had done right, 
 and was tortured between the two ideas, 
 the grief of his parents and the calls 
 of his country. In imagination he saw 
 his mother droop and die, and he trem- 
 bled lest he should indeed be the cause 
 of such an event. He found no rest 
 from these thoughts day or night. 
 
 But if his mother did not reproach 
 him, Lizzie did. She told him plainly 
 that he had done wrong, and that the 
 mother's silent agony was more alarming 
 than noisy grief. But what could be done? 
 There stood his name written with his 
 own hand, and he could* not retract. 
 
 Captain Watson himself called to see 
 Mrs. Martin. He represented to her the 
 great need of patriotism, reminded her 
 that it was but for three months they 
 enlisted, told her how much he respect- 
 
THE CAMP. 139 
 
 eel Walter, aucl how much the army 
 would need the influence of young men 
 like him — that he undoubtedly would 
 rise to the officers' ranks ; and finally re- 
 quested her to become the 'comforter of 
 his own wife and two little girls, whom 
 he must confide to the care of friends 
 left behind. 
 
 This call was appreciated by the be- 
 reaved mother, who especially rested on 
 the idea of the short term of enlistment, 
 and whose thoughts also went out to the 
 bereaved wife and children of the cap- 
 tain, and to the numerous other mothers 
 parting like herself from loved sons. 
 
 Three busy, anxious days sped over 
 the village, then the company assembled 
 with music and a flag, and called at the 
 captain's door, where they found a colla- 
 tion provided for them ; after which, 
 marching through the streets, they bade 
 farewell to thQ scenes of home and all 
 
140 WALTEE MAETIN. 
 
 they loved on earth. To Mrs. Martin 
 the martial music was like a funeral 
 knell, though troops of boys threw up 
 their caps and seemed to think it far 
 otherwise. 
 
 When twilight shadowed the green 
 vales, captain and men were far away, 
 and praying hearts at home were 
 breathing forth the earnest cry to God 
 that he would guard them and save 
 them. 
 
 The moraing sun shone upon Walter 
 in a new situation. The camp where the 
 regiment was to await the uniforms pro- 
 vided by the state, consisted of tents 
 hastily arranged, where the nev,^ compa- 
 nies congregated as they arrived. What 
 a bustle 1 what a confusion ! Walter half 
 opened his eyes, bewildered by the unac- 
 customed situation, when the beat of the 
 morning drum brought him to immedi- 
 ate consciousness. He bounded to his 
 
THE CAMP. 141 
 
 feet in an instant, while a new thrill of 
 patriotism ran through his veins. 
 
 "Halloo here!" said he, shaking up a 
 drowsy companion; *' on duty, sir. Do n't 
 you hear the ' roll of the drum, and the 
 trumpet that speaks of fame ?' '^ 
 
 As his comrades aroused themselves 
 and began to converse, a shocking oath 
 greeted his ear, and he started as though 
 stung by some venomous insect. He 
 looked around for some secret place for 
 morning devotions, but there was no 
 retirement there; so breathing a silent 
 prayer, he entered upon the duties of 
 the day. He liked the drill and the mil- 
 itary parade, and felt the great throb- 
 bings of a new manhood within him, a 
 more earnest desire to serve his coun- 
 try, and a willingness to give his life for 
 her cause. 
 
 ''What do you think of camp life?'^ 
 asked Captain Watson a few days after. 
 
142 WALTER MARTIN. 
 
 "I should like it pretty well," replied 
 "Walter, "if I had a few more congenial 
 companions. The men are pretty rough, 
 more so than I imagined they would be." 
 
 ''Yes," replied the captain, ''they feel 
 unrestrained, and some whom I thought 
 pretty fair young men at home, seem 
 rather wild here; but they will grow so- 
 ber again ; they are made of good mate- 
 rial, and will be great fighters. You 
 must consider that your standard of moral 
 character is high." 
 
 "They seem very little prepared to 
 fall in battle," said Walter. 
 
 "Yery true," replied the captain ; "but 
 we have got an excellent chaplain ap- 
 pointed for us, and I hope much from his 
 influence." 
 
 When a week had passed away, Wal- 
 ter found himself quite at home in his 
 new position. Two of his old factory 
 companions, Tom Hardy and Ned Man- 
 
THE CAMP. 143 
 
 son, were in his company; and here too 
 he found Jack Dooley, his refractory 
 scholar ; and he was rejoiced to see what 
 excellent young men they had become. 
 Tom was an earnest Christian, and be- 
 came a fellow-laborer with Walter in 
 seeking the best interests of the men. 
 
 The Christian, if true to his heavenly 
 calling, can readily be distinguished in a 
 company of the thoughtless ; and though, 
 in the sunshine of prosperity, they may 
 laugh at him, he becomes their refuge in 
 times of trouble and sorrow. So Walter 
 soon found himself the great reliance of 
 many of the young soldiers when per- 
 plexed by difficulties. 
 
 ''Why don't you smoke, corporal ?'' 
 said a young man to Walter, who had 
 just been appointed to that station. 
 
 ''I never had a fancy for it," replied 
 Walter. 
 
 "You must learn now then," replied 
 
144 WALTEK MAETIN. 
 
 the soldier ; ''when a fellow is away from 
 home so, a good cigar is a real com- 
 fort.'' 
 
 "It would be a discomfort to me," said 
 Walter; ''besides, I think it is a bad 
 habit, and should not be willing to try it. 
 It would be better for you to leave it off. 
 It would be better for your pocket, and 
 better for your morals." 
 
 "Ho, my morals are well enough. I 
 do n't drink ; and only take a cigar now 
 and then." 
 
 "It may lead to other things which 
 are bad," replied Walter. "Suppose 
 you try to break the habit. I find no 
 necessity for it, and it will increase upon 
 you perhaps. Take the money and buy 
 books, they will be better than cigars 
 when you are lonely." 
 
 "Perhaps you are right," replied the 
 young man ; "I should like some books, 
 that's a fact. I believe I'll try that 
 
THE CAMP. 145 
 
 plan. My motlier and sisters were al- 
 ways opposed to my smoking." 
 
 "Well," said Walter, "write to them 
 your new resolution ; and they will be so 
 pleased you will not regret the self-de- 
 nial." 
 
 The change of diet, though acceptable 
 to Walter, was not relished by many of 
 the men, who were, fresh from the boun- 
 tiful tables of their homes. 
 
 "The beef grows tougher and the 
 bread harder everyday," one of the men 
 said at dinner one day. "I say, we can't 
 stand this. If Uncle Sam employs us, he 
 must give us better living than this." 
 
 "They've got good beef here," said 
 another, "I know; I've seen it, and we 
 ought to have it.'^ 
 
 Some oaths were uttered that seemed 
 terrible to Walter's ears, though he had 
 been hearing profanity every day of his 
 camp life. 
 
 W. Martin. 10 
 
146 WALTER MARTIN. 
 
 ''Do n't swear," said he, ''do n't swear, 
 and I '11 get some better beef for you to- 
 morrow. When we get down among the 
 rebels, I suppose we must eat such as 
 we can get ; but it seems hard here. We 
 haven't got toughened yet. But if you 
 wont swear, I '11 get some beef for you to- 
 
 morrow." 
 
 "Well, produce the beef," said one, 
 "and I wont swear again for a week." 
 
 After dinner he went out to find the 
 man who dealt out the beef. 
 
 "Sir," said he, stepping up to him 
 quickly and assuming a stern counte- 
 nance, "sir, haven't you any better beef 
 than that we had to-day? It wasn't fit 
 for the dogs to eat." 
 
 The old man looked up at him with 
 astonishment. He was surprised at the 
 indignant flash of Walter's eyes. 
 
 "Why, corporal," said he, "are you 
 angry? I thought you was a Christian." 
 
THE CAMP. 147 
 
 "So I am," replied Walter; ''but I 
 am a civilized Christian, and I cannot eat 
 such beef as that was. It would raise 
 the indignation of any Christian to see 
 men trying to eat such a dinner as our 
 men tried to eat to-day. If it is n't bet- 
 ter to-morrow, I shall report you to higher 
 authority." 
 
 The next day the beef was good, and 
 the men were warm in their thanks. 
 
 "I do not want any thanks," said 
 Walter; "only keep your promise, and 
 not swear." 
 
 It was pretty hard for unrestrained 
 men to keep such a promise as that ; but 
 they tried so earnestly, that there was 
 much less profanity in their tent; for 
 when the promised week was ended, none 
 seemed ready to fall back to their old 
 habits. 
 
 But tobacco and profanity were not so 
 destructive as the arch-enemy intemper- 
 
148 WALTEB MARTIN. 
 
 ance. Whiskey was a more formidable 
 opponent than any other which Walter 
 had to enconnter. 
 
 It was fearfnl to the young Christian 
 to see men around him deprived of their 
 reason, brutal and insensible through the 
 influence of this terrible scourge. He 
 saw too that some of the officers were no 
 better than the men, and wondered how 
 they were to guide their men when they 
 could not guide themselves. 
 
 ''I think," said Captain Watson, "it 
 would be well to try some prayer-meet- 
 insrs. You could find a few who would 
 help sustain one, could you not?" 
 
 ''I think I could," replied Walter. 
 " There are Tom Hardy, Pardee, Jones, 
 and some others. I am glad I have your 
 permission. I will appoint one for to- 
 night." 
 
 Walter entered upon the work in ear- 
 nest, and many were induced to attend 
 
THE CAMP. 149 
 
 the ''corporal's prayer-meeting," as they 
 called it, because "the corporal was an 
 honorable, kind, first-rate fellow;" and 
 they "would go to his prayer-meeting, 
 if they never went to another." 
 
 "I tell you," said Ben Brown, "the 
 corporal is n't one of your mean kind of 
 Christians. He do n't talk to you about 
 your soul, and then, when you ask him a 
 favor, put on a long face and say he can't 
 grant it." 
 
 "That's a fact," replied Johnson; "if 
 he sees a fellow in trouble, he puts his 
 hand in his pocket and pulls out his last 
 cent for him. And if one of us is sick, 
 he is always ready; and if anybody is 
 abused, he is sure to defend them. Three 
 cheers for the corporal's religion and the 
 corporal's prayer-meeting. I'm going to 
 hear him pray." 
 
 The little seed thus sown by Walter 
 and his friends was not scattered in vain. 
 
150 WALTER MAETIN. 
 
 It not only bore good fruit in the hearts 
 of some of the men, so that the still 
 small voice of contrition was heard, and 
 the sounds of wickedness were ex- 
 changed for the songs of praise, but the 
 prayer-meetings became permanent, and 
 their influence caused religion to strike 
 deeper root in the mind of Walter. 
 Every dav he saw more and more the 
 value of a trust in Jesus. He saw also 
 how much the soldiers needed a true 
 friend and counsellor, and his affections 
 grew increasingly interested in their wel- 
 fare. Many of them were young, brought 
 up under the guidance of loving parents, 
 never before thrown upon their own re- 
 sources, and it was not surprising if they 
 went astray, needing both temporal and 
 spiritual help. 
 
 ''Oh, Walter,'' said Robert Fay, who 
 had been one of Walter's schoolmates 
 under Mr> Train, "I don't know what I 
 
THE CAMP. 151 
 
 shall do. I have n't got a cent of money 
 left. You know I had leave of absence 
 yesterday, and went off to have a good 
 time, and spent all I had. I did n't mean 
 to, but the boys went in for a supper 
 and a treat, and I didn't want to be 
 mean, so I have n't any thing left." 
 
 ''Do you need some money?" asked 
 Walter. 
 
 "Yes, I do need some ; but I have not 
 any way to get it, unless I can sell my 
 guitar. I never shall use it any more. 
 I don't want to carry it south with 
 me, and I suppose we shall go in a few 
 days." 
 
 ''What do you ask for the guitar?" 
 
 " I would sell it for two dollars, but I 
 do n't know of anybody that would buy 
 it." 
 
 "I'll buy it," said Walter, ''and send 
 it to my little nieces. But, Kobert, how 
 much better it would be for you if you 
 
152 WALTEE MAKTIN. 
 
 would not go with such men. I am afraid 
 they will lead you into worse trouble 
 than losing your money ; I am afraid you 
 will lose your soul." 
 
 Robert dropped his head, and was 
 silent. Walter continued, 
 
 "You are a soldier for your country, 
 Robert; be a soldier for Jesus. Come 
 to our prayer-meeting to-night.'' 
 
 Robert consented, and afterwards the 
 prayer-meeting became his greatest pleas- 
 ure. Thus another was won by Walter's 
 method of reaching the soul, through first 
 relieving the wants of the body. 
 
 Was not Walter right? Was not this 
 the method of our Saviour? Did he not 
 heal the body, and then say, "Thy sins 
 are forgiven thee ?" Did he not feed the 
 multitude, sending them away full and 
 happy, instead of faint and weary? So 
 Walter turned not scornfully away from 
 the wicked in the camp, but became to 
 
THE CAMP. 153 
 
 them tlie ready sympathizer and the kind 
 friend, thus gaining the ascendency of 
 love over them, by which he won them 
 to Christ. 
 
 But now there came another call over 
 the country. Three hundred thousand 
 men were wanted ''for three years or 
 the war." More homes must be entered, 
 and more hearts desolated. Many who 
 left home for three months only, now 
 signed their names for three years. But 
 Walter refused. 
 
 ' ' I would almost as willingly stand up 
 before the enemy and be shot," he wrote 
 to Ellen, "as refuse to enlist for the war. 
 It seems cowardly. But I have promised 
 mother, and I must keep my promise. 1 
 know that she is living on the hope that 
 I will soon be at home." 
 
 "I am sorry," said Captain Watson, 
 ' ' that you do not go south with us. Your 
 influence is invaluable. The officers all 
 
154 WALTEE MAETIN. 
 
 want you. You can have a commission 
 if you will go." 
 
 ''Thank you, sir," replied Walter ; "I 
 should certainly go if it was not for my 
 mother. She cannot be persuaded to give 
 her consent, and I do not feel justified 
 in going without it. My father is very 
 feeble, more so than ever." 
 
 The next day some of the higher offi- 
 cers of the regiment spoke to Walter 
 in flattering terms, and offered to pro- 
 cure him a commission if he would go j 
 but he felt that his promise to his moth- 
 er was a sacred thing, and no induce- 
 ments could persuade him to break it. 
 He assisted in the breaking up of the 
 camp, bade farewell to the comrades who 
 loved him, and though his thoughts and 
 his wishes followed them, he returned to 
 his home to comfort his parents, and 
 again resume the every-day duties of 
 private life. 
 
THE MISSION. 155 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THE MISSION. 
 
 "Oh my son,*' said Mrs. Martin, as 
 she once more grasped his hand, and felt 
 his warm kiss upon her cheek, "I am 
 so thankful to see you at home once 
 more." 
 
 ''I am glad to be here, mother," he 
 replied ; "but it seems wrong to seek the 
 comforts of home, when so many brave 
 men are going forth to battle for our 
 country's good. I feel that it is mean 
 and unworthy to shirk my duty thus." 
 
 "You must remember," said Lizzie, 
 "that you do not shirk. It is not 
 that. You only leave one duty that 
 you may fulfil another. It is perhaps 
 as much a duty to attend to mother 
 and to father, under the circumstances, 
 
156 WALTER MAETIN. 
 
 as to figlit for your countrj^, thoiigli it 
 may not flatter your patriotism quite so 
 much.'' 
 
 "I think I realize all my duties to 
 them," replied Walter; "but other par- 
 ents yield up their sons ; they give them 
 freely for their country." 
 
 " Yery true," replied Lizzie ; " but you 
 must reflect that our parents have just 
 passed through a series of severe trials ; 
 and that father is almost helpless, and 
 cannot remain with us long." 
 
 "I know it, sister, and I am ready to 
 fulfil my duties here. I will not leave 
 mother again." 
 
 "I do not ask that," said Mrs. Mar- 
 tin. "I do not require that you remain 
 with me all the time. I know }^our best 
 interests demand that you should be 
 away, nor would I withhold you from 
 your country in her need ; but I ask you 
 to reflect whether there are not other 
 
THE MISSION. 167 
 
 ways 111 whicli you can serve her as 
 truly as in the army's ranks." 
 
 "Perhaps so,'" replied Walter; "but 
 it appears to me that just now our nation 
 needs plenty of powder and ball, and 
 men to use them. I have become deeply 
 impressed too with the religious wants 
 of the army, and I should like to remain 
 with those young men to sympathize with 
 them and lead them to Jesus. But if 
 duty keeps me at home, all honor to the 
 brave men who are gone, and to those 
 Avho may go. And now let us drop the 
 subject, for since I have come home to 
 make you happy, I must think about my 
 employment here. Did you send for my 
 books?" 
 
 ' ' Yes, " replied Mrs. Martin, ' ' they are 
 all at home." 
 
 "Then I can study some," said he. 
 •' To-morrow I think I will go out and see 
 Mr. Childs." 
 
158 WALTEE MAETIN. 
 
 That evening Walter went to the 
 post-ofi&ce, and received many cordial 
 greetings from the people who crowded 
 aronnd him with inquiries for their loved 
 ones in camp. Occasionally the ques- 
 tions, ''What did you back out for?" and, 
 ''Why didn't you go ahead with the 
 others ?" tinged his cheeks with crimson, 
 for he was sensitive on this point, and 
 could not brook that his filial obedience 
 should be misconstrued into cowardice or 
 recreancy. 
 
 He was somewhat humbled by the 
 implied taunts ; but, conscious that he 
 had endeavored to act in conformity 
 with his sense of right, he felt that those 
 who did not understand his motives and 
 situation had no right to judge his con- 
 duct. 
 
 "Surely,'' he thought, as he walked 
 slowly home, "God will direct me in the 
 way I should go, if I but lean upon his 
 
THE MISSION. 159 
 
 arm. I will wait patiently, and lie shall 
 direct my steps.'' 
 
 The next day he took the familiar road 
 to the home of Mr. Childs, and was greet- 
 ed with the cordial welcome of previous 
 days. 
 
 "Eeally/' said the good pastor, "you 
 have taken a new color, if you have n't 
 been far south. You are quite brown, a 
 good, healthy color." 
 
 "Yes, sir," said Walter, smiling; "be- 
 ing in the wind and fresh air so much is 
 an excellent thing for the complexion. It 
 takes out the milk and water, and gives 
 the fresh, ruddy bloom of health." 
 
 "Isn't it fun," asked Willie, "to live 
 as they do in camp?" 
 
 "It is not exactly fun," said Walter, 
 "it is rather too hard for that ; but it is 
 pretty exhilarating sometimes. It is ex- 
 citing business for us quiet people to be 
 learning how to shoot our fellow-men. 
 
160 WALTER MAETIX. 
 
 Camp life may do very well here, but 
 there will be hardships enough when they 
 reach the scene of action.'' 
 
 " I wish I was a little older," said Wil- 
 lie with kindling eye, "I should try it 
 pretty quick. How wicked for those reb- 
 els to attempt to dissolve our Union." 
 
 "Yes," said Walter, 'Hhat is the idea 
 which sustains the soldiers in the pros- 
 pect before them. They talk these things 
 over, and become more patriotic every 
 day. There will be a large missionary 
 field in the army," continued he, address- 
 ing Mr. Childs. "It is surprising how 
 soon young men who have been well 
 trained at home, catch the new habits 
 about them ; and in camp men of all kinds 
 are thrown promiscuously together." 
 
 "This war will open to us many new 
 duties," replied Mr. Childs. " Have you 
 formed any plans jet for yourself?" 
 
 "Nothing definite," said Walter. "I 
 
THE MISSION. • 161 
 
 cfinnot feel quite like entering college in 
 times like these. Wlien men are nerv- 
 ing for the fight, and blood is being freely 
 offered, and clouds are thick and black, 
 I cannot sit down tamely to a four years' 
 study of Greek and Latin. I ought not 
 so to use my time. I ought to be at 
 work, helping my countrymen in some 
 way.'' 
 
 ' ' You are enthusiastic, " said Mr. Childs j 
 "you savor of the camp, but I believe 
 you are right. We must be enthusiastic, 
 or our country will fail. And yet," he 
 added thoughtfully, "it is rather anoma- 
 lous for me, whose business it is to teach 
 men the way of peace, to say to them, 
 *You must fight.'" 
 
 "This seems home-like," said Walter, 
 as he took his accustomed seat at the ta- 
 ble. "You see, Mrs. Childs, I have been 
 dining lately from a tin plate and eating 
 soup from a tin cup." 
 
 W.Martin. H 
 
162 WALTER MARTIN. 
 
 Ada laughed merrily. "I should like 
 to see that way of dining," said she. 
 
 "I should like to try it," said Willie. 
 
 "Well, I am glad you are not old 
 enough," said Ada. " Do you think, Mr. 
 Martin, that it is right for all the boys 
 and men to be so eager to go off to fight 
 and die?" 
 
 ''Yes," said Walter, "I think they 
 ought to be willing to give themselves in 
 a cause so just as ours ; but I admit it is 
 a great sacrifice for the mothers and sis- 
 ters who remain at home." 
 
 '' I should like to go," said Willie. ''I 
 should like to stand face to face with the 
 ugliest regiment this side of the Gulf." 
 
 "You hardly realize what ^u say, 
 Willie," said Mr. Childs. "War is a 
 solemn thing. It is not to be desired or 
 sought, and must be accepted only when 
 every alternative fails." 
 
 Walter enjoyed every moment of his 
 
THE MISSION. 163 
 
 visit, and at night when he parted from 
 the beloved minister and received his best 
 wishes, he felt stronger in that hopeful 
 confidence in Christ which is ''an anchor 
 to the soul, both sure and steadfast." 
 He determined anew that each day he 
 would seek for strength to perform the 
 duties of that day, leaving the result with 
 Him whose promise is for ever sure. 
 
 Some weeks passed away, during which 
 he remained to bless his mother with his 
 loving presence, taking unwearied care of 
 his invalid father, striving to forget his 
 own desires, and growing firmer in the 
 faith that if his heavenly Master had a 
 work for him to do. He would make it 
 known to him in due time ; and having 
 committed himself to the great, loving 
 Shepherd, he knew that he was safe in 
 his care. 
 
 Tlie morning rays of a pleasant day 
 shone upon the pale face of Mrs. Martin 
 
164 WALTER MARTIN. 
 
 as she stood at her window watching the 
 steps of her only son returning from his 
 accustomed walk to the post-office ; and 
 as she noted his firm and manly mien, 
 she said to herself, " I have no boys now, 
 the last one is already a man. I must 
 yield him up to the stage of action ; I 
 cannot expect him to live this indolent 
 life and be happy." 
 
 " Mother," said he, coming briskly in, 
 "I have a letter from Mr. Eastman." 
 
 "What does he write?" she asked. 
 
 " He says that he is about to give up 
 the academy he is teaching, to prepare 
 for the ministry; and that he will rec- 
 ommend me to the trustees if I wish it. 
 Do you think I had better accept the 
 offer?" 
 
 Mrs. Martin considered a moment, and 
 then said, ''The hand of the Lord is in 
 it, Walter. You need some employ- 
 ment ; my wants are supplied, and I am 
 
THE MISSION. 165 
 
 hajopy with Lizzie. You like teaching, 
 and I must not ask you to live in idle- 
 ness. You are safe from danger there." 
 
 Walter smiled. "lam safe anywhere, 
 mother, under the protection of Him who 
 ever watcheth us." 
 
 "I know it, my son; but I can not 
 shake off this terrible fear of losing you." 
 
 The young man thought of the three 
 mounds yet fresh with the dews of weep- 
 ing, of the two sons away on the far 
 wild prairie, of the invalid husband and 
 father, and he could find no words of 
 reproach for the lacerated heart of the 
 loving mother. He next mentioned the 
 offer to his father, and asked him if he 
 thought he could spare him. 
 
 "I suppose it is best that you should 
 go," replied Mr. Martin; "but you will 
 see me no more in this world." 
 
 "Oh father," replied Walter, "I hope 
 I shall ; I hope you will live a long time 
 
166 WALTER MARTIN. 
 
 yet, tliougli you may not be well again 
 as you used to be/' 
 
 '' No," said Mr. Martin, ''it cannot be ; 
 I feel that I shall go soon." 
 
 The result proved the truth of the fa- 
 ther's anticipations : erelong Walter was 
 called' from his school to see another add- 
 ed to the list of those already gone be- 
 yond this vale. As he went about the 
 desolate house, and memory recalled the 
 jovial voices and the familiar countenan- 
 ces of those who so lately had occupied 
 those rooms, he asked himself why he 
 was spared. 
 
 "Why is the full tide of health flush- 
 ing through my veins?" he said. ''Am 
 I better than they? Nay, verily; and if 
 I am still kept on the earth, it is because 
 there is a work for me to do. Heavenly 
 Father, teach me what that work is, and 
 grant me grace for its performance." 
 
 A still small voice within replied, "Do 
 
THE MISSION. 161 
 
 thy duty this day. The morrow's work 
 shall be told thee when the morrow 
 
 '* This is all I need to know/' said he. 
 " This day my duty is towards my moth- 
 er ; I '11 seek her now." 
 
 He found her sitting dreamily in the 
 next room, and taking a chair by her 
 side he softly placed his arm about her 
 neck. 
 
 " Mother," said he, "the house is silent 
 and voiceless. I cannot leave you here. 
 Lizzie has her husband and little one to 
 comfort her; why cannot you go and 
 stay with Ellen till the first sadness is 
 worn off? I suppose I must return to 
 my school." 
 
 ''My son," said she, "the sadness 
 rests too heavily to be easily worn away 
 anywhere; but I will do as you think 
 best." 
 
 Ellen welcomed the stricken mother 
 
168 WALTER MARTIN. 
 
 with her whole afifections, and Walter 
 returned to his school. 
 
 Meantime the battle's tramp, the 
 deathly struggles, and the soldiers' groans 
 were ringing from hill to hill; the cries 
 for more help came up from our armies 
 in the field, and Walter could with" diffi- 
 culty suppress the burning desire to go 
 forth for his beloved country and her suf- 
 fering cause. Every evening was occu- 
 pied with the news from the scene of 
 conflict, and the soul of the j^oung man 
 kindled with longings to participate in 
 the active labors of the fearful work. 
 
 He thought of the young men, pale 
 with wounds and agony ; of their weari- 
 some marches and nights of watching ; of 
 the unprepared souls passing away to the 
 eternal Judge, and he longed to be there 
 to comfort and to heal, and to point the 
 perishing to Jesus, "who taketh away the 
 sin of the world." 
 
THE MISSION. 169 
 
 Grod, wlio had put these desires within 
 him, opened a way by which he could 
 fulfil the wishes of his daily thoughts. 
 The young pastor of the village called 
 upon him, and as they conversed upon 
 the theme current in every mouth, Wal- 
 ter opened his heart and frankly ex-, 
 pressed his inmost wishes. 
 
 "I cannot rest contented here," he 
 said, ''my country needs me; and yet 
 my mother is so unwilling that I should 
 enter the army, that I am unable to de- 
 cide where my duty lies." 
 
 "Perhaps I can make a suggestion," 
 said Mr. Carnes, "which will be a com- 
 promise. G-o as a missionary in the 
 army. Perhaps your mother will con- 
 sent to that ; and you may be as useful 
 as if you should take the musket and en- 
 ter the field." 
 
 The idea was pleasing to Walter's 
 ardent mind, but he could see no way 
 
170 WALTEE MAETIN. 
 
 for the accomplishment of such a pur- 
 pose. 
 
 "I can assist you/' said Mr. Carnes, 
 ''and get you an appointment." 
 
 Walter agreed to this immediately, 
 provided he could obtain his mother's 
 consent. He found this an easier task 
 than he expected ; and at the close of his 
 term he left the quiet north, to seek her 
 brave men who were giving themselves 
 on the altar of freedom, in the sanguin- 
 ary conflict, in weariness and in perils. 
 
 " If I may but lead the lost to Jesus, '^ 
 he said, " I would willingi}^ share their 
 sufferings and bear their toil." 
 
 In a letter to his mother he wrote, 
 " If you could see the joy with which the 
 men welcome me, mother, you would re- 
 joice that you had the opportunity of 
 giving me to this cause. I am glad I am 
 here. I only ask the high privilege of 
 laboring for my fellow-men. I think of 
 
THE MISSION. m 
 
 you, dear motlier, and you will pray for 
 me, and our Father will hear your pray- 
 ers. Should I ever teach again, as I 
 formerly thought God designed me to 
 do, I should like to teach in these south- 
 ern lands, until ignorance and sin are 
 . dispelled from her borders, and freedom 
 waves her flag over the hearts of her 
 sons." 
 
172 WALTER MARTIN. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 WALTER'S CONCLUSION. 
 
 The closing words of Walter's letter 
 indicate the new ideas which were dawn- 
 ing upon him. He saw a new field for 
 teaching. A new sphere of labor open- 
 ed before him, and he thought the early 
 and repeated callings which had been in 
 his heart from the. time he left the fac- 
 tory till now, callings to prepare for a 
 life of teaching, which had haunted him 
 even while infatuated for the army, were 
 about to be realized. His heavenly Fa- 
 ther had directed his steps to the land 
 of the benighted, where the harvest was 
 plenteous. 
 
 Walking over the dusty roads of Yir- 
 ginia one warm day, he paused to remove 
 his hat and wipe the perspiration from 
 
WALTER'S CONCLUSION. 173 
 
 his brow, Avhen an aged man of a dark 
 hue rose from the ground and sahited 
 him. 
 
 "Ah, my friend," said Walter, ''this 
 is a warm day. But what have you 
 there in your hand V^ 
 
 ''Dis, massa, is a hymn-book I'se been 
 readin'.'^ 
 
 "Can you read?" asked Walter. 
 
 "Yes, massa, I larn to read when I 
 was a boy, toting ole massa's chiVern to 
 school. They teach me how to read. 
 Ole massa was awful mad, an' he whip 
 me 'cause I know how ; but I say, ' Whip 
 on, ole feller ; you can't whip dat out of 
 me, no way." 
 
 "And what do you think of the times 
 now?" asked Walter. 
 
 "Tears like dey mighty good, massa. 
 Ole massa leave me, Massa Lincoln make 
 me free ; de Union people give me dis 
 hymn-book, an' dis yer," drawing a 
 
n4 WALTEE MAETIN. 
 
 Bible from Ms pocket; "an' bress de 
 Lord, I can read 'em an' nobody to whip 
 me." 
 
 TTalter found these colored people 
 wherever he went. Men and women, 
 boys and girls appeared before him at 
 every turn, and his heart warmed with 
 pity for them. There were not many 
 who could read like the old man by the 
 road-side ; they were ignorant, and every 
 day the conviction gained a hold upon 
 Walter's mind that instruction v;as the 
 life-work to which he v^^as called. 
 
 ''I never could understand mv mis- 
 sion at the Xorth," said he, ''and now 
 I see the reason. My work was not 
 there. Here the fields are white for the 
 harvest ; already other laborers are put- 
 ting in the sickle and gathering the full 
 grain ; I must join their band, and thrust 
 my sickle in with theirs." 
 
 The wish of his heart has been srati- 
 
WALTER'S CONCLUSION. 1^5 
 
 fied, and every day lie gathers the dark 
 faces about him and instructs them as he 
 formerly instructed the pale-faced chil- 
 dren of the North. 
 
 ''When I go to school in the morn- 
 ing,'^ he says, "they meet me and ea- 
 gerly tell me how much they have learn- 
 ed since yesterday; and I endeavor to 
 put in their hearts the true ideas of man- 
 hood. I have in my school nearly a 
 dozen George Washingtons; for the poor 
 mothers, having no name of their own, 
 delight in bestowing the names of great 
 men upon their children. 
 
 "Every day their black faces glisten 
 upon me as I teach them ; they sing to 
 me the songs of Jesus, and I am con- 
 tented with the mission my God has 
 given me. What the future may bring 
 forth is hidden with my Father ; but I 
 know that they who put their trust in 
 Him shall surely prosper. With the 
 
116 WALTER MAETIN. 
 
 wise preacher I can say, 'Let us hear 
 the conclusion of the whole matter : Fear 
 God, and keep his commandments; for 
 this is the whole duty of man.'" 
 
RARE BOOK 
 COLLECTION 
 
 THE LIBRARY OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 
 NORTH CAROLINA 
 
 AT 
 
 CHAPEL HILL 
 
 Wi liner 
 1116