* I y 
 
 ^ l>>. Q -

 
 NOW-A-DAYS! 
 
 NEW- YOKE : 
 T. L. M A G A G N O S & CO. 
 
 16 BEEKMAN-STREET. 
 1854.
 
 EMEKED, according to act of Congress, in the year One Thousand Eight Hundred 
 and Fifty-four, by T.-L. MAGAGNOS k CO., in the Clerk's Office of the Dis- 
 trict Court of the United States, for the Southern District of New York.
 
 J. . . 
 
 TO THE FRIEND WUO WITH ILE HAS PLIED THE NEEDLE, 
 
 AND GUIDED THE PEN, 
 
 AND WITH WHOM I HAVE SPENT SO MANY HAPPY, BUSY HOURS, 
 THIS VOLUME IH AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED, BY 
 
 THE AUTHOR.
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 IN this little volume, the authoress has endeavored to 
 give a few faithful pictures of life, now-a-days ; and, 
 in doing this, she has painted always from nature. 
 Every scene, in which the story is laid, has been 
 familiar to her own eyes ; imagination has scarcely 
 added finishing touches to the landscapes and portraits 
 she has drawn. 
 
 Maine backwoods life she has, especially, aimed 
 to make true to nature, as it is the first time that it 
 has ever been admitted into romance-world. The 
 manners and customs of this, hitherto, far-oif and 
 " unknown land," she has examined for herself. She 
 has, herself, passed over the rough road which Esther 
 travels with her loquacious guide ; she has rested at 
 the same roadside inns. She trusts that those, who 
 are entirely ignorant of this kind of life, will be in- 
 terested and amused in the pictures she gives them,
 
 and that none will censure her for daring to offer a 
 new thing to the novel-reading public. 
 
 In writing " Now-a-days," she has stepped a little 
 aside from the path which story writers have, generally, 
 trodden before. She has aimed at naturalness, rather 
 than at anything marked and startling. The public 
 taste is growing weary of murders, and wars, and ru- 
 mors of wars, and she has preferred to leave these 
 trite themes to some more fiery pen, and to paint, as 
 faithfully as was in her power, real life, New-Eng- 
 land life. 
 
 F. E. A.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHATTER. PAGE. 
 
 L A Sudden Cloud 9 
 
 IL The Step-Mother. It 
 
 III. Hans for the Future 84 
 
 IV. On the Way 41 
 
 V. The Work-Field reached 52 
 
 VI Work begun 62 
 
 VIL The Valley of the Shadow of Death 78 
 
 VIIL A Sabbath in the Wilderness 89 
 
 IX. The Conference 94 
 
 X. The Camp 101 
 
 XL An Evening with the Lumbermen 109 
 
 XIL More about the Lxunbermen 125 
 
 XIIL Colonel Gordon. 143 
 
 XIV. A Family Picture 159 
 
 XV. Clarendon Springs 163 
 
 XVL A chat, in school-girl fashion 172 
 
 XVTL A new Friend. 184 
 
 XVIII. Second Love, 190 
 
 XIX. Second Marriage. 200 
 
 XX. Down-East again. 212
 
 VU1 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER. PAGE. 
 
 XXL The Sewing-Circle 232 
 
 XXII. An Unexpected Meeting 250 
 
 XXIII. Maria. 25*7 
 
 XXIV. A peep into Futurity 270 
 
 XXV. A Trial 279 
 
 XXVL Virginia at Home 288 
 
 XXVIL Two Life-paths and the Choice 295 
 
 XX VIE. Almost an old Maid. ... . . 303
 
 NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 A SUDDEN CLOUD. 
 
 " HAS the bell rung yet ?" asked Virginia Clifton, 
 joining a group of her schoolmates, who stood busily 
 talking and laughing in their favorite spot, the 
 middle of the long hall, in the boarding-house 
 connected with Mr. Marshall's celebrated school 
 for young ladies. 
 
 "No," replied Maria Brooks, coming out of her 
 room, with slate and book in hand ; " I hope not, 
 for I do want somebody to help me in this dread- 
 ful Trigonometry lesson !" 
 
 " Don't ask me ! don't ask me I" said one after 
 another, half laughing as she approached them. 
 
 "Here comes Esther Hastings; she'll help you," 
 said Yirginia. 
 
 " What is it ?" asked Ettie, as she was familiarly 
 called, slowly walking up the long hall. 
 
 ' My Trigonometry, as usual," sighed poor Maria, 
 "I cannot understand anything about these sines,
 
 10 NOW-A-DAY8. 
 
 tangents, and cosines; I do despise tins abominable 
 Spherical Trigonometry I always did hate mathe- 
 matics, and why Mr. Marshall insists on my study- 
 ing these studies is more than I can see." And 
 she burst into tears. 
 
 " Let me see, Minnie, dear," soothingly said Es- 
 ther ; and as the troublesome sum was pointed out, 
 continued, " Oh ! I can tell you a little about that 
 in a few moments that will make it quite clear, 
 I think ; so now to begin," and in fact, a few words, 
 a few figures on the slate, and Maria wondered that 
 it had so puzzled her. 
 
 " Well," she exclaimed, " I believe I do understand, 
 and thank you ever and ever so much, darling Ettie ; 
 but I never should if I had been obliged to do the 
 sum alone ; but," she continued, " I don't know but 
 this study is good for me. I am sure it cultivates one 
 Christian grace, at least, humility for I never look 
 at poor Day's Mathematics without feeling what a 
 fool I am. Any letters?" she suddenly exclaimed, 
 springing to meet two girls, who were coming up the 
 long staircase. 
 
 "Yes! one for Jennie, and one for Miss Esther 
 Hastings, Hopedale, Mass. a paper for .you, Maria, 
 and for the rest of you nothing. I am sorry to dash 
 your hopes thus from the highest pinnacle of expec- 
 tation down to the lowest depths <rf despairing cer- 
 tainty, but so it is," said Emily Sidney, the bearer of 
 the letters ; " and now, my dear Miss Hastings, if you 
 have finished devouring the contents of that large 
 document, will you do me the favor to accompany me
 
 A SUDDEN CLOUD. 11 
 
 to Mr. Marshall's study ? as he wishes to see us there 
 a few moments." 
 
 Passing her arm around Esther's waist in school- 
 girl fashion, they descended the staircase ; and the 
 group of girls went on talking a*s before. Some mo- 
 ments passed, when Emily and Esther re-appeared 
 Emily was half supporting the fainting form of her 
 friend, and walked hastily by the wondering girls. 
 
 " For heaven's sake, what is the matter with Esther 
 Hastings ?" exclaimed Maria Brooks. 
 
 In mute astonishment they looked at each other, 
 till Emily carne out of Esther's room, and in answer 
 to their numerous inquiries, replied briefly, " Mr. 
 Marshall has just had a telegraphic dispatch, saying 
 that her father is very sick, and may not live till she 
 gets home." 
 
 " Can I be of any service," said Maria, " in pack- 
 ing her trunk, or any such thing ?" 
 
 " No, Maria, I can do all that is necessary," re- 
 turned Emily ; " but I must go to Esther again." 
 
 "Poor Esther," ejaculated more than one, after 
 Emily left them ; " she idolizes her father, and what 
 will become of her if he dies !" 
 
 " I pity her from the bottom of my heart," said 
 Virginia; "she has only a step-mother, and I know 
 she does not love her much, for she never speaks of 
 her." 
 
 The school bell soon rang, and the girls quickly 
 obeyed the summons, leaving the long hall unoccu- 
 pied. 
 
 A few hours had slipped away, but to Esther's ex-
 
 12 NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 cited mind the time bad seemed interminable. That 
 precious time was passing, and she not yet on her 
 way : her father might die, and she might not hear 
 his parting words receive his parting kiss. 
 
 She had roused herself from the stupor into which 
 the sadness had at first thrown her, and busied herself 
 mechanically in getting ready for her journey. Now 
 all was ready, and she went out into the hall to bid 
 adieu to her old friends. Mr. Marshall led her to the 
 carriage, Emily accompanied her, and with a fervent 
 embrace, whispered, " God bless and comfort you, 
 dearest." 
 
 Esther could not speak, but her warm grasp of the 
 hand she held tightened, and tears gushed to her eyes. 
 They were the first she had shed. She scarcely heeded 
 the introduction which Mr. Marshall gave her to the 
 gentleman who was to take charge of her, but fell 
 back into a corner of the coach, and drawing her veil 
 down, gave vent to her tears. How her heart rebelled 
 against this severe blow which God had dealt her ; 
 " First my mother, and now my father," she bitterly 
 thought, " all all that is left me, and what have I 
 done to deserve this ?" She could not pray she could 
 think of nothing, see nothing but the death-bed of her 
 father, and God had done it. Bitter and scalding 
 tears flowed, but they did not relieve her burdened 
 heart. The coach stopped ; her companion half lifted 
 her from it and led her into the depot. Curious eyes 
 Esther felt were upon her, and, hastily controlling her 
 emotion, she sat down, feeling as if her heart was 
 crushed under its load of misery.
 
 A SUDDEN CLOrD. 13 
 
 The shrill whistle sounded, and the rushing, mighty 
 tread of the locomotive was heard all was hurry and 
 confusion, and she found herself, she hardly knew 
 how, seated in a car and rapidly passing towards home. 
 Home ! the thought was agony ! How she had looked 
 forward to this homeward journey, and how different 
 was all from what she had anticipated ! She sat in 
 silence brooding over her woes, feeling almost as if 
 wronged, when she was startled by the words of her 
 companion, the first he had addressed to her. " Whom 
 the Lord lovetk, he chasteneth." 
 
 It seemed as if the stranger must have read her 
 thoughts. She looked at him, and read in his dark 
 eyes sympathy for her, yet she also felt a little self- 
 condemned, as if he had known how unsubmissive 
 she had been to the will of God. He continued talk- 
 ing with her, and gradually her reserve gave way. 
 She told him much of herself, of her idolized father, 
 and found a sad relief in talking of her sorrows. 
 
 The gentle and compassionate words which Mr. 
 Percival addressed to her, fell like balm upon her 
 heart, and the hope that all might yet be well, that her 
 father might recover, somewhat cheered her. But 
 now Mr. Percival must leave her, he said, for here 
 their paths separated. He placed her on the boat, 
 and saw that all was arranged for her comfort, and 
 with a few hurried but kindly words of sympathy and 
 encouragement, left her. Once more alone, Esther 
 surrendered herself to her grief. Sitting on the 
 promenade deck, she raised her veil, that the fresh 
 breeze might cool her fevered brow. Two gentlemen
 
 14 NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 sat near her, and were talking busily i They seemed 
 to be old friends, delighted to meet each other after 
 a long absence. Their voices fell on Esther's ear, but 
 she heeded them not, till the name of Hastings 
 arrested her attention she listened eagerly, as one 
 remarked, half carelessly, " You remember Hastings, 
 the rich lumber merchant?" 
 
 "Hastings ! yes, he married that handsome Mar- 
 garet Wilton for his second wife, didn't he ? well, 
 what of him 2" rejoined the other, " hasn't failed, has 
 he?" 
 
 "No, I guess not," was the reply, "but he's lying 
 at the point of death !" 
 
 "I want to know," returned his friend, "well, 
 he will be a great loss to the community. Let me 
 see he is President of the Merchant's Bank, isn't he ? 
 How does that Bank flourish?" he continued, and 
 then the conversation turned on bank stock, railroad 
 stock, and the like. Esther had sank back at the 
 mention of her father's name, feeling more keenly 
 than ever her loneliness and misery. " How heartless 
 all the world is !" she thought; "and I am to live 
 years in it, probably." Hours passed, and she had at 
 length reached Bangor. A servant was, waiting for 
 her on the wharf " Is he alive, Jamea,?" she asked, 
 as he assisted her to the carriage. 
 
 " Yes, Miss Esther, and asking for you when I 
 came away." 
 
 " Drive fast," she said, and in a few moments she 
 had reached home. Scarcely heeding the servant 
 who opened the hall door, she rushed hastily to her
 
 A SUDDEN CLOUD. 15 
 
 father's room, flinging her bonnet off as she almost 
 flew up the staircase. The room was dark, and the 
 heavy breathing of the sick man alone broke the 
 silence. 
 
 " Has Ettie come ?" she heard articulated with diffi- 
 culty, and in another moment she had sprung to the 
 bed, and kissed repeatedly the forehead, cheeks and 
 lips of her dying father, exclaiming again and again, 
 " You must not die, oh, my father !" 
 
 " This must not be," said the physician who stood 
 near, in a low tone ; " Calm yourself, Miss Esther, 
 this agitation may hasten the fatal crisis." 
 
 Esther obeyed involuntarily, and in silence seated 
 herself by the bedside, while her father, in low, broken 
 accents, said : 
 
 " Thank God that I have seen my child before I 
 die oh, Ettie, you have ever been a dutiful child," 
 he continued, " and may God bless you ; I die con- 
 tent" 
 
 He paused, as if exhausted, then resumed, " Though 
 I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I 
 will fear no evil, for Thou art with me my trust is 
 in our Saviour I shall soon join your mother." 
 
 Incoherent words now alone fell from his lips, till 
 suddenly he seemed again conscious, and looking at 
 his young and beautiful wife, who stood by his side, 
 he said, "My beautiful Margaret, forgive me if I have 
 wronged you in making you the wife of an old man 
 you have made life very sweet to me." He took her 
 hand, and with a feeble grasp laid it on Esther's 
 "love each other," he said, "for my sake." Again
 
 16 NOW-A-DAY6. 
 
 his mind wandered, " Annie !" he exclaimed, wildly 
 starting up and stretching out his arm, as if to embrace 
 some one ; " we meet again." He fell back " Jesus," 
 he murmured, and all was over Esther Hastings was 
 fatherless. Calmly Mrs. Hastings bent over the dead 
 man, and imprinted a kiss upon his brow, then led 
 Esther from the room.
 
 CHAPTEK II. 
 
 THE STEP-MOTHEE. 
 
 SOME days had passed, and the rich man slept in 
 that narrow resting-place, where all the dwellers on 
 earth must at last lie down together. His business 
 matters had been investigated, but, contrary to the 
 expectations of all, it was found, that what property 
 he possessed would meet the demands of his creditors 
 alone, leaving comparatively nothing for his wife and 
 child. He had been largely engaged in navigation, 
 and for several years past he had met with heavy 
 losses, as was well known ; but it had not been sup- 
 posed that so large a portion of his fortune had been 
 thus lost. 
 
 The necessity of making some definite arrangements 
 for the future, which this change of circumstances 
 rendered unavoidable, had been of service to Esther, 
 as it had in a measure prevented her from brooding 
 over her sorrows. But one day an unusual number 
 of kind and well-meaning friends had called on her to 
 offer their sympathy. Their words, it seemed to her, 
 opened the wound afresh, and their inquiries at last 
 became torture to her. It was now evening, and, sit- 
 ting alone in her chamber, she wept long and bitterly.
 
 18 NOW-A-DAY3. 
 
 " I am alone in the world," she thought, " but yet not 
 alone in my grief ; my step-mother must sympathize 
 with me, and I will seek her." 
 
 She rose hastily, and, crossing the hall, knocked 
 lightly at the door of the room where she supposed 
 she should see Mrs. Hastings. She was right. A 
 voice bade her come in, and she opened the door. A 
 crowd of bitter memories rushed over her heart, as 
 she stood upon the threshold of that luxurious room, 
 which her father had so tastefully decorated for his 
 young wife. A rich carpet, so soft that the foot was 
 nearly buried in it, covered the floor. Pictures and 
 statuary of rare merit, displaying alike the wealth and 
 taste of the owner, adorned the room. A magnificent 
 piano stood at one end of the apartment, while a large 
 case, filled with books, the works of the best authors, 
 elegantly bound, occupied the other. A marble table, 
 loaded with odd and costly trifles, stood in the centre, 
 over which a chandelier hung. This was not lighted, 
 however, but in an alcove, shaded by soft drapery, on 
 one of the many luxurious lounges, reclined Mrs. 
 Hastings. A bronze statue of a slave, holding a lighted 
 candle, stood at the head of the couch. The light fell 
 on the face of the beautiful woman, showing to Esther 
 an expression of the deepest misery upon her features. 
 Her small and jewelled hands were clasped tightly 
 over her breast, and she lay as if prostrated by the 
 weight of her woe. Esther glanced around, and re- 
 membered the sad hours she had spent there, when 
 her father was accustomed to sit listening to the me- 
 lodious voice of his wife, as she sung to him at twi-
 
 THE STEP-MOTHER. 19 
 
 light, his eyes filled with the passionate love which he 
 lavished upon his peerless Margaret. All this Esther 
 had seen till her heart was nearly bursting with jeal- 
 ous resentment, that this radiantly beautiful creature, 
 the usurper, as she felt, had so completely filled the 
 place of the wife of his youth, her own gentle mother, 
 in her father's heart. But this was past; and his 
 dying words, " You have made life very sweet to me," 
 and " love each other for my sake," seemed sounding 
 in her ears. 
 
 Touched by the evident sorro\^of her step-mother, 
 she approached gently, and leaning over the couch, 
 impressed a kiss on the white brow of its occupant, 
 and for the first time called her " mother." 
 
 A cold and bitter smile passed over the face of Mrs. 
 Hastings, as she said, " Do not mock me, Esther, with 
 any appearances of tenderness ; this is no time for dis- 
 simulation : we have never loved each other, and have 
 never stooped to any hypocritical pretences." 
 
 A haughty flush suffused the brow of Esther at this 
 reception of her advances, and she turned as if to leave 
 the room ; but *' love each other for my sake" she 
 seemed to hear, and she replied, " It is true that no 
 affection has ever existed between us, but still- we are 
 united by our mutual love for him who has left us ;" 
 and tears rushed to her eyes. 
 
 "No, Esther," coldly and calmly replied Mrs. 
 Hastings, " you mistake ; I never loved your father !" 
 
 " Not love him !" repeated Esther ; " then why did 
 you marry him?" 
 
 " You are young yet," answered Mrs. Hastings ;
 
 20 NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 " when some years more have passed over you, you 
 will not probably be so much shocked at the idea of 
 a marriage without love." 
 
 The thought that her father's passionate idolatry of 
 his bride had been requited thus, filled Esther with 
 indignation, and she exclaimed, " Oh ! you are indeed 
 heartless ; and under this cold exterior, which I had 
 hoped was but a disguise for warm feelings, there 
 beats no true woman's heart. And I have called you 
 mother, have given to you the name of that pure an- 
 gelic being whose p^ce you have so unworthily filled. 
 Thank God that I have never before thus desecrated 
 that sacred title !" 
 
 She paused, expecting to hear some mocking reply, 
 but what was her astonishment to see tears trickling 
 between her step-mother's fingers, as she had buried 
 her face in her hands. 
 
 " You are severe, Esther," she said, in a broken 
 voice, .contrasting strangely with her usual sweet and 
 clear tones ; " but at your age I should have said the 
 same. Take heed, that when you reach my time of 
 life, your proud soul does not have to acknowledge 
 that it has been untrue to itself. I am unworthy," 
 she continued, " but, oh ! not heartless. Heartless ! 
 when now, notwithstanding all my pride, I am forced 
 to own that I love one to whom I ain nothing. How 
 I loved that man ! How I love him even now, when 
 he has forgotten me, and has given to another that 
 place by his side which I, the poor despised one, might 
 once have claimed. You wonder, Esther, that loving 
 one man thus, with my whole heart, I should have
 
 I 
 THE STEP-MOTHKR. 21 
 
 given myself to another. Yet I did it ! Listen to 
 rne, for my soul to-night is like a volcano ; I can no 
 longer control its hidden fires. I will tell you all. 
 To-morrow I shall again be calm and cold, and no one 
 but you will know what burning misery lies within. 
 You remind me of what I once was. How I should 
 once have scorned such a being as I now am ! Yet 
 I cannot bear your contempt. I will tell you all, and 
 you must, you will pity me. I, like you, was an only 
 child, and the idol of my parents. They were rich, 
 and no whim of mine, however fanciful, was ungrati- 
 fied. It was a beautiful village where we lived, and the 
 homestead, a quaint old house, standing midway upon 
 a hill, and surrounded with grand old trees, and half 
 hidden by vines, was, in my childish estimation, 
 almost a paradise. 
 
 " My father had a great passion for laying out the 
 grounds around the house in fanciful ways, and it was 
 also my delight to plan intricate walks, beautiful sum- 
 mer-houses, and various things to diversify the gardens, 
 which it was equally pleasant to my father to exe- 
 cute. The interior of the house, too, at least those 
 portions of it which were more particularly my own, 
 I used to fit up as I chose. At one time in the old 
 Elizabethan style, while,.I would personate some great 
 lady of that age. At another time I chose to have 
 every thing in the Eastern style, and as usual, regard- 
 less of expense, my father consented. Arraying my- 
 self in magnificent oriental garments, I received my 
 parents. I never looked more gorgeously beautiful, 
 and I remember well the look of proud affection with
 
 22 NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 which my father regarded me. Meantime my educa- 
 tion was by no means neglected. I was fond of study, 
 and nothing was spared to render me an accomplished 
 woman. I had very few associates, for I despised the 
 insignificant girls with whom I was brought into con- 
 tact when paying visits to their parents, with my 
 father and mother, and they in turn were repelled by 
 the haughtiness of my manners. But I was very hap- 
 py at home ; my books, flowers and music were com- 
 pany enough for me, and when I wearied of these, I 
 used to ride off miles at headlong speed on my favor- 
 ite horse, a beautiful Arabian, whom I had named 
 Lightning. Then, too, my mother, of whom I was 
 passionately fond, would sit with me, and listen for 
 hours to my wild air-castles, or to my songs, in my 
 gay and restless moments, or in my calmer moods she 
 would sew while I read to her ; but oftener I would 
 lie on the grass by her side in the garden, with my 
 arms wound round her, telling her all my strange im- 
 aginings, while she seemed fully to understand me, 
 for we were much alike, and all in all to each other. 
 Thus I grew to womanhood, with my faults uncheck- 
 ed, and accustomed to the most implicit obedience 
 from all around me, not excepting my parents. 
 
 " But there was a change. My father met with one 
 of those sudden reverses so common to American mer- 
 chants, and we were at once reduced from affluence 
 to poverty. My mother, whose pride, like mine, was 
 unconquerable, did not sink beneath the blow, but 
 cheered my father and predicted brighter days. I, 
 the proud Margaret Wilton, became a governess !
 
 THE STEP-MOTHER. 23 
 
 The family with whom I lived were low-bred and 
 purse-proud people, and disposed at first to treat me 
 with disdainful condescension. But I was as haughty 
 as in my palmiest days, and scrupled not to let them 
 see that I despised them. Yet they did not discharge 
 me, for they had a pitiful pride in saying that Marga- 
 ret Wilton was their governess. 
 
 " Here I first met Arthur Hammond. Long before 
 I knew whether my affection was returned, I had 
 given my whole heart to him. I strove long against 
 it, but it was in vain. He was a poor student of di- 
 vinity, but his talents were of the highest order. He 
 possessed, too, the power of concealing his feelings, in 
 a remarkable degree, and though I watched him nar- 
 rowly, I could not tell whether he cared for me. He 
 was very proud and cold to others, but though his 
 deep voice softened when he addressed me, I could 
 not tell whether he loved me, or pitied merely my 
 situation. But at last he told me of his affection ! 
 How rapturously my heart beat ! but he said that I 
 was unfit for a minister's wife, and that knowing this, 
 he had long striven to conquer his love for me. How 
 changed I was ! Once I should have rebelled at such 
 a truth, but love made me very humble, and I owned 
 my unworthiness, and begged him to help me to over- 
 come my many faults. Thus time passed, but still I 
 was not happy. Arthur was so calm, and saw all my 
 faults so clearly, that I feared he did not love me as 
 I wished. My nature was such, that I longed to be 
 assured over and over again that I was beloved, and 
 when I would exclaim ' Do you really love me I '
 
 24 NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 his cold reply, * You wrong me to doubt it,' would 
 chill me, and I rarely ventured to say more. 
 
 "I was jealous, too, and to my childish complaints 
 and fears, he would reply so severely, and almost con- 
 temptuously, that it would rouse my pride, and I 
 would resolve never to see him more. But the next 
 time I met him, one kind glance from his deep eyes, 
 one warm embrace, would at once overthrow my reso- 
 lution. Then he would reason with me, and urge me 
 to acquire self-command, till I was almost maddened. 
 
 "It was at a time when I was half frantic with jeal- 
 ousy of a fair and gentle girl, whose character, I fear- 
 ed, suited Arthur much better than my stormy nature, 
 which I felt wearied him, that your father met me. 
 
 " My beauty, which has ever been my curse, attract- 
 ed him, and ere long he offered me his heart and 
 hand. 
 
 "I refused him ; but I contrasted almost unconscious- 
 ly, his warm devotion with the apparent indifference 
 of Arthur. Meanwhile my parents, whom I had ac- 
 quainted with my rejection of Mr. Hastings, plead 
 with me to accept his suit, which he proffered again. 
 
 " They had never liked my engagement to Arthur ; 
 and my mother resented, * not his efforts to improve 
 my character,' she said, ' but his harsh manner of doing 
 it.' 
 
 " ' Margaret,' she said, * I would not urge your 
 marriage with Mr. Hastings, if I thought you would 
 be happy with Arthur ; but I have seen that you 
 have been restless and miserable ever since your en- 
 gagement. Good and noble I allow that he is, but he
 
 THE STEP-MOTHER. 25 
 
 is yet too much of a tyrant, and your love for him 
 would render you almost a slave to his will. It will 
 be a long time, too, before he can offer you a home, 
 and your father and I long to see you placed in a 
 situation which you are so well fitted to adorn ; and 
 Margaret,' she continued, ' your father's care and 
 anxiety is wearing him fast to the grave, and will you 
 not gladden his heart by becoming the wife of a gen- 
 erous man, who loves you devotedly.' 
 
 " But it is useless to repeat the various arguments 
 which my mother used ; suffice it to say, she prevail- 
 ed, and I consented to do as she wished. 
 
 " The preparations for our marriage were hurriedly 
 made, and I had hardly time to realize what a step I 
 was taking, amid the hurry and bustle. 
 
 " All this while I had not seen Arthur. It had been 
 his custom, when I had been ' unreasonable,' as he 
 said, to punish me by not coming to visit me for some 
 time ; and if reports of my coming marriage reached 
 him, he either disbelieved them, thinking it one of my 
 efforts to awaken his jealousy, or scorned to allow me 
 to know that he heeded them. 
 
 "The day before my wedding was to take place, I 
 walked out alone, to visit some of my old haunts, be- 
 fore I left them, it might be forever. Half involun- 
 tarily 1 took my way to a spot which was a favorite 
 with both Arthur and myself, an old rock, shaded by 
 trees, and covered with moss, and sat down to rest, 
 listening to the babble of a little brook which flowed 
 at its foot. 
 
 2
 
 ZO NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 " Suddenly I heard rapid footsteps, and in a moment 
 Arthur Hammond stood before me ! 
 
 " I could not speak. His dark piercing eyes were 
 fixed upon me, and I suppose I turned pale, for a 
 deathlike faintness spread over me. 
 
 " He saw it and said, ' Compose yourself ! I do not 
 come to reproach you. No, Margaret, I do not wish 1 
 to add one drop to your bitter cup, nor would I ex- 
 change places with you, suffering as I do. I knew too 
 well,' he proceeded, ' that we were unsuited to each 
 other, but I loved you too fondly and strove to blind 
 myself to the fact that I was doing wrong to link our 
 fates together, but I little thought that yours would 
 be the hand to deal me so severe a blow.' 
 
 " ' Oh why,' gasped I, ' did you not tell me before 
 that you loved me thus ? How much misery might 
 have been spared us both ?' 
 
 " ' I have erred,' he said, ' and I see it when it is 
 too late. While trying to regulate your stormy 
 nature, I have feared to show you the depth of my 
 love, lest, secure of that, you might cease to strive 
 to gain my affection. But, oh ! Margaret, it has been 
 a hard task, and I miscalculated the strength of your 
 attachment to me. It is all over now,' he continued, 
 " and I must bid you farewell. I will not tell you to 
 forget me, for I know that you cannot, but I hope 
 that time, the great, healer of heart-wounds, may 
 bring to you more happiness than I can expect for 
 myself.' 
 
 He turned to go. The misery of my future life
 
 THE STEP-MOTHER. 27 
 
 without him rushed over me, and I exclaimed wildly. 
 ' Then you can leave me you cast me off forever ' 
 
 " ' Margaret,' replied he, ' you have chosen your 
 course ; it is your hand which separates us which 
 has placed on the hearts of both, a load of sorrow. It 
 only remains now, for each to bear it as best he can.' 
 
 "He approached me and took my hand. 'God 
 bless you,' said he, and hastily, as if he dared not 
 trust himself to say more, he left me. 
 
 " Oh ! the agony of that hour ! It is as fresh as if it 
 were yesterday. I lay on the grass realizing now all 
 that I had done. Kesentment and jealousy had given 
 me strength before, but now, when I could not think 
 harshly of Arthur, I saw all as it was. He was lost to 
 me for ever ! My future life must be a wretched one, 
 and I alone was the author of my misery. I longed 
 to die for I dreaded to take the next step, that of 
 marrying Mr. Hastings, and I could not resolve to 
 break off the engagement. I had not strength to re- 
 sist my mother's strong will, and I felt that retreat 
 was impossible. My own pride, too, when I came a 
 little more to myself, rebelled at the idea. I must 
 go on for, even if I refused to become the wife of 
 Mr. Hastings, I knew Arthur too well to suppose that 
 he would return to me. We were as much separated 
 as if the ceremony that bound me to Mr. Hastings had 
 been spoken. 
 
 " It was growing dark when [ at last started for 
 home ; I had not gone far when I met your father, 
 who had come to our house, and finding me gone, had 
 set out in search of me. He gently chid me for wan-
 
 28 NOW-A-DAY6. 
 
 dering so far and wearying myself. He was so kind 
 and noble that I despised myself for the wrong I felt 
 that I was doing in marrying him without love. I 
 resolved to tell him all, and commenced, but he inter- 
 rupted me. 
 
 " ' I know, Margaret,' said he, ' that you have been 
 engaged to another I know too that you respect and 
 esteem me, for you have told me so, and I trust to 
 time and my own ardent love for you to gain me that 
 place in your heart which I wish. Let the past 
 remain in oblivion ; I feel sure that at a future time 
 you will discover that your attachment for my rival 
 was but a girlish fancy, and no effort of mine shall be 
 wanting to promote your happiness.' 
 
 " And nobly did he fulfil all his promises. After our 
 marriage, through his influence, my father obtained a 
 lucrative situation, and I had the pleasure of seeing 
 my mother enjoying the comforts which her declining 
 years demanded. Mr. Hastings was ever most kind and 
 delicate in his attentions, but, alas ! though I did try 
 to return his affection as I felt that I ought, I could 
 not love him. It seemed as if the effort 1 made only 
 estranged me more from him. I was heartsick and 
 miserable, yet strove to hide my grief under an ap- 
 pearance of gaiety, and I succeeded in deceiving my 
 father and mother, and even my husband, into a belief 
 in my happiness. During this time I had heard 
 nothing of Arthur, except that he had graduated with 
 high honors and was spoken of as a young man of 
 great promise. One evening we met at a large party. 
 1 was arrayed in most splendid costume and sur-
 
 THE STEP-MOTHER. 29 
 
 rounded by a large circle of admirers, when suddenly 
 in the midst of my gaiety, I saw Arthur Hammond, 
 who stood at a little distance looking at me fixedly. 
 My heart beat wildly, and the blood left my cheeks, 
 but by a violent effort I controlled myself, and con- 
 tinued talking though I knew not what I said. I had 
 hoped at times that I should forget him that I should 
 be able to meet him with composure, but now I knew 
 too well, how fondly I still loved him and feared that 
 I must ever so regard him. As soon as possible I left 
 the circle where I was standing and entered a little 
 conservatory where I hoped for solitude. But soon I 
 heard some one approaching, and a well-known voice 
 addressed me. I started and trembled violently, for 
 it was Arthur Hammond. 
 
 " ' Do not be alarmed, Margaret,' said he, ' I would 
 not thus meet you to remind you of anything in the 
 past which might give you pain ; but I see you happy, 
 and I rejoice in it. Let us still be friends, for as a 
 friend I can now regard you, and can sincerely con- 
 gratulate you that you are the wife of a man so well 
 worthy of you. I too am married and long to intro- 
 duce my bride to you. Shall I bring her here ?' 
 
 I murmured some words of common-place polite- 
 ness, and he left me. I saw that he loved me no 
 longer, and I calmed myself to meet his wife. I saw 
 the looks of ardent love with which he regarded her 
 as they re-entered the room. She was a pure and 
 fairy-like creature, and as she approached me looking 
 so almost holy in her airy white dress, I felt the con- 
 trast which was painfully manifest between us. I, in
 
 30 NOW-A-DAY8. 
 
 my gorgeous apparel and glowing oeauty, fitly repre- 
 sented the glory of this world which passeth away, 
 but she seemed fit only for a purer and brighter 
 sphere. 
 
 " I spoke a few words to her, and her reply in a voice 
 sweet and birdlike fell on my ear, like some far off 
 heavenly melody. Purity and simplicity breathed 
 in her every movement, and I, proud as I was, felt 
 humbled before her. I did not wonder that Arthur 
 worshipped her, as I saw plainly enough that he did, 
 but I left them, for I could not bear to see my place 
 in his heart so completely filled by another ; yet I 
 rejoiced that he did not suspect that I still cherished 
 the dream which had long since faded from his re- 
 collection. So the weary years passed, and here am 
 1, in the prime of life, looking back with vain regrets 
 into the past, and shrinking from the future. Oh ! 
 if I could but die !" she exclaimed, passionately, " and 
 yet I fear to die, alas ! alas ! I am fit neither for 
 life nor death," and she buried her face in her hands. 
 
 Gently Esther approached her, and passing her arm 
 tenderly around Margaret's waist, whispered, " Dear 
 Margaret, do not repulse me, I pity you, and love 
 you from my heart forgive me for my harsh words. 
 Oh, how much pain we might have been spared, had 
 I known your true character before ; but now that I 
 do understand you, we will love each other shall we 
 not?" 
 
 Margaret did not reply, but she allowed her head to 
 rest on Esther's bosom, while Ettie continued: "You 
 will yet be happy ; there is a bright future in store
 
 THK STKI'-MOTHKR. 31 
 
 for you ; how much joy you can bring to the hearts 
 of the sick and sorrowing ! Your past sorrows will 
 enable you to sympathise with the sad, and your 
 higher nature will come forth purified, from the trials 
 through which you have passed. Do not give way 
 to despair ! Kise, and in endeavoring to make others 
 happy, you will yourself find peace." 
 
 " Alas ! dear Esther, it is too late," replied Marga- 
 ret. 
 
 " Too late !" repeated Esther, " oh no ! do not say 
 so ; you are young, and though all now seems dreary 
 to you, if you will but look around you, and try to pro- 
 mote the welfare of others, you will have no time for 
 repining; oh, Margaret," she continued, "there is 
 no cure for sadness like employment." 
 
 "Employment! and how shall I busy myself?" 
 asked Margaret. 
 
 " I will tell you," said Esther, anxious to withdraw 
 her mother from the contemplation of her sorrows ; 
 " there is something to be done here ; for you know," 
 said she, while tears rose to her eyes, " that this house 
 and furniture are no longer ours. I know that you 
 will agree with me, in wishing my father's name to 
 be unsullied, even if nothing remains to us. All 
 must be given up, and we must leave this home to 
 strangers !" 
 
 " You have judged me aright, Esther," replied 
 Margaret ; " I am as anxious as you can be, that every 
 debt of my husband's may be discharged, that no 
 stain may rest on his honor. Let us at once give up 
 all, and then we will go together to 1113- father's home."
 
 32 NOW-A-DAY8. 
 
 " No, Margaret," replied Esther, " I have already 
 made my arrangements for the future, and my place 
 is quite a different one I cannot go with you." 
 
 " Not go with me !" exclaimed Mrs. Hastings ; " oh ! 
 do not say so ! you cannot be serious ! I shall need 
 you so much, for I know myself too well. Let me 
 make ever so good resolutions, I cannot keep them 
 without assistance, and if you leave me alone I shall 
 never rise from my selfish sorrowings never." 
 
 "I must leave you, Margaret," repeated Esther, 
 " but not alone Your own words show me plainly 
 my duty If with you, I fear that you might rely on 
 my puny assistance ; while, without me, you will at 
 once seek aid from Him who alone can give strength 
 to our weak endeavors. Look to our Saviour, dearest, 
 to him who knows our weakness, who is touched with 
 the feeling of our infirmities, for he has felt the 
 same." 
 
 " Oh, dear Esther !" said Margaret, " I can never 
 feel like you, that trust in Jesus, which I do so much 
 need, and if you leave me, what will become of me?" 
 But," she suddenly exclaimed, "how selfish I am ! I 
 Lave not yet asked you where you are going !" 
 
 "To teach a school, and one in the backwoods, 
 too," replied Esther. " I saw Mr. Merrill, our pastor, 
 to-day, just as he was much perplexed about finding 
 a teacher to go up into the Aroostook country. I at 
 once offered to go. He stared at me, and told me 
 that I little knew what it was to go there ; but even 
 after his vivid description of backwoods life, I still
 
 THE STKP-MOTHER. 33 
 
 persisted in my willingness to go, and in about a week 
 I shall be on my way. But now good night, Marga- 
 ret, for it is very late, and you need rest, as well as 
 I." She kissed the brow of her step-mother, and, 
 urging her to seek her couch soon, left her. 
 
 2* 
 

 
 CHAPTEK HI. 
 
 PLANS FOB THE FUTURE. 
 
 THE morning sun shining brightly into Esther's 
 room woke her from her sound slumber, and glancing 
 at her watch, which was placed in the outstretched 
 hand of a small marble figure, at her bedside, she 
 was startled to perceive the lateness of the hour, and 
 hastily rising, she dressed herself as quickly as possi- 
 ble, and descended to the parlor. 
 
 On opening the door, she saw Mrs. Hastings walk- 
 ing leisurely up and down the large apartment ; she. 
 looked up as Esther entered, and bde her good 
 morning, adding, " I fear that, the late hours which 
 we kept last night have stolen the roses from your 
 cheeks, for you are looking quite pale this morning. 
 I hope that your appetite has not gone with the roses ; 
 at any rate, I shall do justice to the breakfast. Ring 
 the bell, Esther, if you will, for my long walk up and 
 down these rooms has quite sharpened my appetite. 
 I compute that 1 have walked two miles, at least, be- 
 fore you made you appearance." 
 
 " I imagine that your sleep was very refreshing," 
 replied Esther, as she obeyed Mrs. Hastings' request,
 
 PLANS FOR THE FUTURE. 35 
 
 and rang the bell ; " for you are looking very bright 
 and cheerful" 
 
 " On the contrary," returned Margaret, " I spent 
 the greater part of the night in forming plans for the 
 future, and picturing myself, as Lady Bountiful, vis- 
 iting the dwellings of the poor, making gruel, washing 
 dirty little faces, and combing refractory hair 11 un- 
 used to intruding combs all very fine to dream of in 
 the lone midnight hours, but how one's romantic whims 
 melt into thin air before the morning sun. I arranged 
 my hair in simple fashion this morning, and dressed 
 as much as possible in suitable costume to try the 
 effect, and find it quite becoming ; still," she a^dded, 
 placing her hand on Esther's shoulder, and approach- 
 ing a mirror, " I do not think the style of dress par- 
 ticularly adapted to my style of beauty. What do 
 you say ? Do I look like a sister of charity ?" 
 
 Esther could not help smiling, as she gazed at the 
 picture reflected there, Margaret's luxuriant hair was 
 indeed knotted' simply, yet displaying its abundance ; 
 her black dress, open from the throat to the waist, 
 heightened by contrast tlje clearness and brilliancy of 
 her complexion ; a cambric handkerchief lay in 
 smooth folds over her bosom. Her dress was emi- 
 nently calculated to set off the beauty of her figure, 
 which was almost faultless in its proportions, and a 
 sort of pride, a delight in her own loveliness, lighted 
 up her dark eyes. 
 
 Margaret was not vain, she was too proud for that. 
 But she well knew that she was richly endowed with 
 beauty, which not only consisted in regularity of fea- 

 
 36 NOW-A-DAl 8. 
 
 tures, but in a rare brilliancy of expression, which 
 was more readily felt than described. 
 
 Her eyes betrayed the fiery impetuosity of her cha- 
 racter, though at times, veiled by her long eyelashes, 
 there was a softness in their depths, that spoke of ten- 
 derness, and was even more attractive than their gen- 
 eral expression. 
 
 Her forehead, white, broad, and low, with its 
 arched and delicately marked eyebrows, would have 
 delighted an artist ; but her cheek, round and full, 
 with its delicate bloom, her small mouth, displaying 
 in her frequent smiles her pearly teeth, and her fair 
 and dimpled chin, would have required no artist's 
 quickened perception of the beautiful, to be admired 
 by all. 
 
 Her head was set upon her neck in that graceful 
 way which, though often described in story, is so 
 rarely seen in real life. It gave a somewhat hanghty 
 expression to her whole carriage ; and, in fact, there 
 was an air about her whole person, that, beautiful as 
 she was, would have repelled the fulsome compliments 
 that flattering danglers so often thrust upon their dis- 
 gusted listeners. 
 
 Margaret was not lovely, she was an elegant and 
 beautiful woman ; and as she was fully conscious of 
 this, she did not wish to be reminded of it continually ; 
 and the expression of scorn, which at times played 
 round her beautiful mouth, was the true exponent of 
 her feelings. 
 
 Woe to the luckless wight who, hoping to please, 
 should descend to the common-places of flattery, or
 
 PLANS FOR THE FUTTJKE. 37 
 
 dare to give to his admiration the name of love. Full 
 often had she administered to such individuals such 
 scathing rebukes, that, like the moth, who, lured by 
 its brilliancy, flies through the blaze of the candle, 
 they too have learned, that pain and annihilation 
 must be the penalty of their venture. 
 
 Some such thoughts as these passed through Esther's 
 mind. " I must say," replied she, " that at this mo- 
 ment you more nearly resemble a tragedy queen." 
 
 " No, Miss Esther, I am neither a nun nor a tragedy 
 queen, yet I feel that I shall reign over a broad do- 
 minion ; but mine is not the only beautiful figure 
 reflected here." 
 
 In truth it was not ; though seen together, Esther's 
 quiet loveliness would have been, perhaps, at first, 
 likely to be somewhat obscured by the more striking 
 elegance of her step-mother ; yet there was something 
 in the quiet serenity of Esther's deep hazel eyes, and 
 in the delicacy of her almost colorless cheek, that at- 
 tracted the attention, and led one to look more earn- 
 estly, to see in what the charm consisted. 
 
 It was not, certainly, in regularity of features, for 
 that could not be claimed for Esther. Her brown 
 silky hair was indeed beautiful, and the simple way 
 in which it was looped up from her face was extremely 
 becoming ; her teeth were fine, her complexion clear, 
 though dark ; but it was the expression of her face 
 which gave to it its chief charm, for every passing 
 thought and fleeting emotion was pictured in that fresh 
 young face. 
 
 Her figure was slight, but yet there was a repose of
 
 38 NOW-A-1UYS. 
 
 manner, a quiet dignity about her, which made one 
 forget this defect, if it might be called one, since her 
 form was well-proportioned and symmetrical. She 
 and Margaret were indeed a perfect contrast to each 
 other. 
 
 Both were peculiarly American in their styles of 
 beauty ; but in Margaret, the spirit of beauty which 
 pervades the majestic forests, the deep thundering 
 waterfalls, and the wild rugged mountains, seemed to 
 dwell ; while Esther's loveliness reminded one of the 
 deep, silent vallej'S and sleeping lakes that dot our 
 beautiful native land. 
 
 Margaret seemed formed to be admired, Esther to 
 be loved. Margaret's proper sphere was in the glit- 
 tering halls of fashion, Esther's in the quiet home- 
 circle, by the cheerful fireside. Margaret was a bril- 
 liant gem, sparkling and radiant, which one might be 
 proud to display to the whole world, Esther a simple 
 wild flower, to be loved and cherished in retirement. 
 And as the triumphant smile, which gleamed on Mar- 
 garet's face as she gazed on her rare beauty, seemed 
 but to lend to it a new charm, so the deep blush that 
 mantled Esther's cheek with its warm glow, but in- 
 creased her loveliness. 
 
 " Do not blush, child," said Margaret, " beauty is 
 not a merit, but a gift, in which we should rejoice. 
 Ah! John enters to announce breakfast, and I will 
 postpone my address to a future period." 
 
 Mrs. Hastings chatted pleasantly during breakfast, 
 on various subjects; and as Esther looked at her, ra- 
 diant in beauty and smiles, she could hardly realize
 
 PLANS FOR TIIK FUTURE. 39 
 
 that she was the same being, whom, the night before, 
 she had endeavored to cheer, in gloom and sorrow. 
 
 Something of her feelings Margaret probably read 
 in her expressive countenance ; for, as they reentered 
 the parlor, she said, " I suppose you will soon be ready 
 to accompany me to my father's home, for no doubt 
 your whim of school-teaching has, in company with 
 its kindred, my visions, passed away. You see as I 
 do, that it is not your proper sphere. Do not be 
 afraid to go with me, for I promise not to weary you 
 with a repetition of last night's performances. There 
 are hours in the life of every one, when we give way 
 to gloomy feelings, and talk and think of the future, 
 as if we hoped for no happiness. It is weak and fool- 
 ish. You have seen me thus once. If I had thus ex- 
 posed myself to any other person I should despise 
 myself ; but I feel sure that you will not take advan- 
 tage of my weakness. I hope that you, like a sensible 
 girl, have decided to go home with me ; for I feel 
 very much attached to you, and can not have you 
 leave me." 
 
 " I shall indeed regret leaving you," answered Es- 
 ther, " but my decision remains the same. I shall go 
 and teach as I have promised. You are right," she 
 continued, " in thinking that what you are now pleas- 
 ed to term your weakness, has not lessened you in my 
 opinion ; so far from that, in it I recognize your true 
 nobility of character, which will assert itself, even 
 though you try so hard to keep it down. Do not, I beg 
 of you, thus wrong yourself ! Let your high and noble 
 nature act unrestrained ! Cultivate instead of repress-
 
 40 NOW A-BAYS. 
 
 ing your longings after the good and true in life ! 
 Oh ! dear Margaret," she continued, " you who might 
 do so much good in the world, give your heart to the 
 Saviour, and devote your talents to his service. 
 
 " Do not go into heroics, little Ettie," said Margaret, 
 parting her hair and kissing her brow, " you are a 
 dear good girl, and though we do not agree, yet you 
 are so terribly in earnest that I love you the better for 
 it. I wish I did feel as you do ; but my path in life 
 is already marked out. Since you will have it so, we 
 must separate. Take your own way, and let me go in 
 mine. Still let me hope that you will love me a little, 
 even if we must disagree," she whispered, " for my 
 heart yearns towards yon," and she drew Esther to her 
 bosom and kissed her repeatedly. " Shall we not love 
 each other ?" she continued. 
 
 " Always," replied Esther, warmly ; " and we will 
 hope to meet again." 
 
 A few moments Margaret held Esther in her warm 
 embrace, then releasing her, exclaimed with a light 
 laugh, " we are getting quite sentimental, and we have 
 no time to waste thus. I shall leave all business here 
 to Mr. Phelps. A few hours more, and I suppose the 
 hammer of the auctioneer will resound here. Let us 
 now descend to the realities of packing trunks, and the 
 like prosaic duties," she said as they left the room 
 together.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 ON THE WAY. 
 
 " WHAT rapid changes have taken place within a 
 few weeks in my life," thought Esther, as she sprang 
 into the wagon, which, waiting at Mr. Merrill's door, 
 was to bear her to her new home as school-teacher. 
 "I should hardly have realized that I was so soon to 
 change my place as pupil for that of teacher."^ 
 Thoughts of the loss which she had sustained in the 
 death of her father rushed over her, and a choking 
 sensation in her throat warned her that she must con- 
 trol her emotion. 
 
 She drew back her veil, and looked around her, 
 determined to withdraw her mind from her own self. 
 
 It was a lovely day in October. The trees were 
 arrayed in their most gorgeous hues, reminding Esther 
 of the beauty which Consumption lends to its victim 
 just before death. Beautiful as was the scenery, she 
 felt that in her present state of mind, she had better 
 think of something else, and turning to her compan- 
 ion, she made some casual remark on the weather. 
 
 " Wall ! it is pooty fair," replied Mr. Simpson, a 
 large-framed and coarse-featured backwoodsman ;
 
 4:2 NOW-A-DAY3. 
 
 " pooty fair," he repeated, "but the roads is bad, as 
 you'll find to your sorrow, I guess, afore we git 
 home." 
 
 " It seems pretty good travelling here," replied Es- 
 ther, looking at the smooth hard road over which they 
 were passing. 
 
 " Oh, yes ! tolerable here, but the teams has cut up 
 the roads dreadful bad, I tell ye, but 'taint nothin to 
 what it was when I first went to the Aroostook 
 country." 
 
 " How long ago was that ? " asked Esther. 
 
 " Oh ! ten year ago. You see I had got pooty 
 much run down, and lied a wife and five children on 
 my hands, so I laid awake many a night contrivin 
 what to do, and at last says I, wife, I tell ye I've made 
 up my mind to go up to the Aroostick. All she said 
 was, When shall you go ? Eight oif, says I, and I was 
 as good as my word. We packed up what we had, 
 and that didn't take us long, and started for the new 
 country. I had been up and looked out a place, and 
 as pooty a ridge of land as you'd want to see. There 
 wa'nt but one house there, that was a log one, and 
 folks was a livin in it. My old woman looked rather 
 blank when she see the accommodations only two 
 rooms, and we was going to board there till I could 
 git a house built. I went to work and worked hard, 
 and my wife, as good a one as ever man hed, helped 
 me, and now we are doin well, and nery one on us 
 haint never been sorry that we come to the Aroostick. 
 We haint hed no very good schools, but now we are 
 goin to hev one steddy six months in the year. But
 
 ON THE WAT. 43 
 
 here we are to Wilkins's, and I'll jist water my horse. 
 I guess you'd better get out, and go in to rest ye a 
 little." 
 
 Esther obeyed, and stepped into the parlor, in which 
 was a rag carpet, several painted wooden chairs, a 
 rocking-chair, and a table, over which hung a glass. 
 Pictures of various Marys, Augustas, and one of Gen- 
 eral Jackson, adorned the walls. Upon the table lay 
 one or two books, the Bible, an odd volume of Thad- 
 deus of Warsaw, and several Daguerreotypes. 
 
 Almost as soon as Esther was seated, a door opened, 
 and a woman entered. She was very tall and dark ; 
 her short black hair fell in rather a disordered state 
 over her sharp features; her black eyes were particu- 
 larly keen and piercing, and at one quick glance 
 seemed to take account both of Esther's person and 
 apparel ; her mouth was large, and displayed when 
 open an uneven and not particularly white set of 
 teeth, which were evidently intended more for use 
 than ornament; her dress was on the principle so often 
 insisted on by books of fashion, adapted to the style 
 of the wearer, for it was of coarse material, ill-fitting, 
 and bearing marks of having had little labor bestowed 
 on it, either in its making, or, having been finished, in 
 keeping it clean ; it was short, and her sleeves were 
 rolled up, leaving her arms bare. She wiped her 
 hands, which were wet, with her apron, and apologiz- 
 ed for her appearance, by saying that she was " cleanin 
 house." 
 
 Esther made no reply, nor did the good woman
 
 44 NOW A-DATS. 
 
 seem to expect one, for she continued, " How fur be 
 ye goin ? " 
 
 " I believe it is to be Umcolcns, No. 9, 6th Eange," 
 replied Esther. 
 
 " Lord ! I know who ye be ! yon're the school-marm 
 that Simpson went arter, haint you ? " 
 
 " I presume I am," replied Ettie. 
 
 " Wall, ye don't look very stout, be ye well ? " 
 
 " Quite well, I thank you," returned Esther, and 
 turned to the table, taking up a book, wishing to 
 avoid further conversation ; but it was of no avail. 
 Mrs. Wilkins, for this was the mistress of the house, 
 looked curiously at Esther's dress, inquiring 
 
 " If this was the latest fashion for making sleeves ? 
 Wall, I declare, it is funny, makes a great deal of 
 washin. Where did you git this?" she continued, 
 drawing Esther's watch from her pocket ; " a present 
 from your beau ?" 
 
 " No, it was given me by my father." 
 
 " Wall, where is your father?" 
 
 A flood of tears was Esther's only reply. 
 
 The good woman seemed sorry, but merely saying, 
 " Then it's him you're in mournin for,'' turned and 
 looked out of the window. 
 
 "Simpson's ready," she exclaimed, and in a mo- 
 ment Mr. Simpson himself stood in the door, whip in 
 hand, saying, " All ready, Miss Hastings. What's 
 the trouble?'' he asked of Mrs. Wilkins, in a low tone. 
 
 She replied, " I was a askin on her a few questions 
 about her father, and it made her cry." 
 As they drove from the door, Mr. Simpson remarked,
 
 OX THK WAY. 45 
 
 " I hope you don't think all the Aroostick folks is like 
 Miss Wilkins. She is the peekinest, meddlinest, tat- 
 tlinest creetur that ever I see." 
 
 Such a string of superlatives made Esther smile in 
 spite of herself; and naturally cheerful, she soon re- 
 covered her good spirits. 
 
 Mr. Simpson talked almost unceasingly for a while, 
 seeming, to Esther's great relief, to expect no reply, 
 except an occasional monosyllable, until at length he 
 subsided into a low whistle, or some few words to his 
 horse. 
 
 It was now nearly noon, and the rough road had 
 given Esther quite an appetite ; she was therefore 
 rather glad to see, a little before them, on a hill, a 
 sign-board, which indicated that here they might find 
 good cheer. 
 
 " That's a first rate tavern," remarked Mr. Simp- 
 son ; ' I'll bait my horse there, and we'll git some 
 . dinner." 
 
 The horse seemed to know that he was approaching 
 good quarters, for he quickened his pace without the 
 reminder of the whip, and soon they reached the door 
 of the house. 
 
 It was a large two-storied house, painted red, and a 
 piazza ran across the front ; on this a group of men, 
 whose red shirts betokened them lumbermen, was 
 standing. Some were smoking, but the greater part 
 were leaning against the wooden posts of the piazza, 
 chewing tobacco, and talking of the need of rain. 
 They all stared at Esther as she alighted from the
 
 46 NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 wagon, and as she passed them she heard one say, 
 " Euther a pooty gal." 
 
 " Looks wall enough," replied another, replacing the 
 quid of tobacco which he had discarded with a fresh 
 one, " but them haint the kind to suit me : give me 
 one real hearty, smart, rosy -cheeked gal, before twenty 
 of your pale, citytied ones, I say." 
 
 "Wall, Simpson, how are ye?" said the landlord, 
 as the former entered the bar-room. 
 
 " O, I'm so as to be -around, but when dinner comes 
 you'll find me to be consumptive, I'm afeard." 
 
 The dinner-bell soon rang, and a very substantial 
 repast was spread upon the table. It would have sur- 
 prised one, less accustomed than Esther to backwoods' 
 life, to see tea and preserves at dinner, but she found, 
 that however ungenteel and unseasonable, both tasted 
 remarkably well. She felt quite refreshed after din- 
 ner was over, and hoped to set out again at once ; but 
 Mr. Simpson said " the horse hadn't eat his oats yet, 
 and she must wait a while." So he returned to the 
 bar-room, and she sat alone in the parlor. Here she 
 noticed an old piano (rather an unusual piece of fur- 
 niture) and a book-case ; the latter, however, was 
 locked. She read through the glass doors some of the 
 titles, and found Rollin's Ancient History, Clarissa 
 Ihirlowe, Scott's Commentaries, and a French gram- 
 mar and dictionary, among the number. Finding it 
 impossible to get at the contents of the case, she 
 seated herself at the piano and played a lively air. 
 She had hardly played a march, when a noise caused 
 her to look around, and she was surprised to see seve-
 
 OX THE WAY. 47 
 
 ral heads thrust in at the door ; and as she stopped, 
 one man called out 
 
 " That's fust rate, go on ; it's been a good while 
 since I heerd that are planner talk like that." 
 
 She hesitated a moment, but concluded to comply 
 with his request; and as she commenced again she 
 noticed a middle-aged woman standing by her side, 
 who exclaimed, in a broken voice, as Esther struck a 
 few chords of a waltz, " That's one that our Liza Ann 
 played ;" and raising her hand she wiped her eyes. 
 
 Esther left the piano, the audience retreated from 
 the door, and the good woman seated herself by her 
 side. 
 
 " Poor Lizzie," said she, as if thinking aloud, " How 
 she used to love to play on that ! Them's most all 
 her books." She went on, as she noticed that Esther 
 glanced at the book-case " I keep um locked up, so 
 they needn't get tore and daubed." 
 
 Esther regretted that her music had called up, 
 apparently, a painful subject to her companion ; and 
 wishing to recall her from it, asked her the usual 
 question, how long she had been in the country. 
 
 " Oh ! nigh about twenty year," was the reply. 
 " When we fust come, there wan't a house within a hun- 
 dred mile on us. We was oncst pooty well off, but 
 my husband got in with a rogue, that cheated him all 
 out of his property, and I was too proud to stay where 
 I had been well off arter I got poor, so I coaxed him 
 off here, and a dreadful hard time we had on it at 
 fust; but I didn't care, till my children got old 
 enough to be learnin something, and there warn't no
 
 48 NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 schools round here. My folks sent for my boys, but 
 we couldn't spare ura, they was needed on the place ; 
 so I spent my evenings learnin urn all I knew, but I 
 let my only gal go. It was hard for me, but I knew 
 it was better for her. She was the pootiest little cree- 
 tur that ever you see, as lively as a cricket all day 
 long ; and arter she went, somehow it seemed as if the 
 sunshine went with her. Her father missed her when 
 he come home tired, arter pilin logs all day, for she 
 always used to comb his hair, and talk so pooty, and 
 I missed her all the time. But I let her stay two 
 year, and when she come home, she had grown so tall 
 and handsome that I didn't hardly know her. Then 
 she had a mighty kind of a delicate way with her, and 
 when I fust see her, I was afraid she might hev got 
 proud like, and despise her old father and mother; 
 but no, her heart was in the right place. She would 
 work hard, and try to save me, and she tried to ap- 
 pear as happy as ever. But I see that she pined. 
 She would play on that pianner, hours to a time ; she 
 brought it home with her : and she used to read the 
 Bible a monstrous sight. But the cold winters didn't 
 seem to agree with her, and she took cold, and a cough 
 sot in. I tried every thing for her, but she didn't git 
 no better. One day says she, * Mother, dear, I shan't 
 live long ; I am sorry for your sake, but we shan't be 
 parted long.' I begged her not to talk so, and told 
 her that she'd soon git well ; but she shook her head, 
 and told me not to deceive myself. But I would not 
 believe it till I had to. She lived till spring. She 
 used to be very fond of violets, and I used to try and
 
 ON THE WAY. 49 
 
 cheer her up, and tell her she would soon be able to 
 go out and pick them. ' No, mother,' said she, ' when 
 the violets bloom, I shall be in my grave.' 
 
 " She was right ; but she died so calm and peace- 
 ful. She told us all to meet her on high ; and just as 
 she was dying, she put her arms around my neck, and 
 breathed out, 'God shall wipe all tears from your 
 eyes.' These were her last words ; she fell back, and 
 died with a smile on her lips." 
 
 She ceased talking, and wept softly and quietly for 
 a few moments, and then resumed. 
 
 " Her death was a dreadful blow to me. I haint 
 never been the same woman since. I felt as though 
 there wan't nothing worth living for, and I wanted to 
 die ; but folks can't alus die when they want to. 
 When you fust come in, you put me in mind of Liza ; 
 somehow you have the same way with you, though 
 her eyes were blue, and yours are so dark ; but you 
 have the same sort of a smile." 
 
 Esther was much touched by the simple narrative 
 which she had heard, and, taking her hand, said, 
 " You found one sure and never-failing consolation in 
 Lizzie's Bible, I suppose?" 
 
 " Yes, indeed, that I did. I read it fust because 
 she loved it so much, but arter a while I loved it for 
 itself. Yes," she repeated, " I do hope soon to meet 
 my Lizzie in heaven." 
 
 Again the vision of Mr. Simpson appeared, to an- 
 nounce his readiness to start on their journey ; and, 
 with a warm pressure of the hand, Esther left her 
 new acquaintance, 
 
 3
 
 50 KOW-A-DAY8. 
 
 The country through which they were passing ab- 
 sorbed Esther's attention, as it was her first visit to the 
 backwoods of Maine. At last she said to Mr. Simp- 
 son, " I do not see so many of those stump-fences a9 
 I expected to." 
 
 " Lord bless ye ! stump-fences ! no, indeed. This is 
 too new country for them. Why they have to rot, so 
 as to be hauled up, and that takes time." 
 
 " I think they make a handsome fence," remarked 
 Esther. 
 
 " Yes, they do so. Critters can't get through urn, 
 no how." 
 
 " It must take a great while to clear up these lands," 
 musingly said Esther. 
 
 " That it does, and a lot of hard work too," replied 
 her companion. " Fust you cut down these great 
 trees, that's a job, I tell you ; then set um afire, unless 
 the fire has run through the woods afore. That's 
 what we call a fell piece. There's one now," he con- 
 tinued, pointing with his whip to a larger tract of 
 land, where trees, blackened by fire, lay in confused 
 masses. 
 
 " What next is done ?" asked Ettie. 
 
 Mr. Simpson, apparently delighted with her inte- 
 rest in a subject so familiar to him, went on : " AYhv, 
 then we junk it, and pile it, then set the piles atire 
 agin. That makes burnt land. The stump is left in 
 solid too." 
 
 " I should think it must be difficult to plough such 
 land," said Ettie, as Mr. Simpson pointed out to her 
 a specimen of the field, ready to be planted. 

 
 ON THE WAY. 51 
 
 "I guess it would. Plough!" he ejaculated. "I 
 should hate to be the man to do that job." 
 
 " How, then, do you get in your crops ?" 
 
 " Why, oats and sich like we sow, and then drag a 
 bush arter us, to cover the seed, and potatoes, and 
 corn, we hack in, as we call it, with a hoe." 
 
 "That must take a deal of time," replied Esther. 
 
 "Wall, yes; but what's time for? We might as 
 well be diggin there, as doin anything else ; and the 
 land pays well for the hard work we do. Burnt land 
 is fust rate for crops." 
 
 The setting sun warned our travellers to hasten on 
 their way, and soon Mr. Simpson pointed out the bald 
 summit of Mount Katahdin to his companion, with 
 the comforting assurance that they were quite near 
 Patten. 
 
 Soon they drove up to a tavern, where a good sup- 
 per refreshed them. A blazing wood fire shone cheer- 
 fully in the parlor, and for a while Esther sat there, 
 thinking of the future, and trying to imagine what 
 would be the character of her companions in her new 
 home. But the fatigues of the day had prepared her 
 to enjoy a quiet night's rest, and she sought her com- 
 fortable chamber, where she soon forgot all unpleasant 
 forebodings in sleep.
 
 CHAPTER Y. 
 
 THE WORK-FIELD REACHED. 
 
 THE next morning early found Esther and her com- 
 panion on their way, and after a hard day's riding 
 they approached what Mr. Simpson said was a cross- 
 road, on entering which, he told Esther that they had 
 only seven miles to go before they reached home. 
 But such a seven miles ! A plough had never been 
 through here, she was informed, and readily believed, 
 for stumps and stones of large size lay directly in 
 the middle of the way ; and if Esther had not been 
 pretty courageous she might have feared an overturn. 
 
 The path seemed to her quite difficult to follow, 
 and several openings, through which she had imagined 
 that they must go, her companion informed her were 
 logging roads, used only in the winter, and pointed 
 out to her one or two fallen trees, which were in- 
 tended as warnings to travellers not to enter there. 
 They had, however, gone over so many trees, which 
 Mr. Simpson had told her were " windfalls," that she 
 had not supposed these were placed there intention- 
 ally. Her companion informed her that one of these 
 roads led into a poke hogin, which he further ex- 
 plained, as a sort of quagmire, very easy to get into, 
 but very difficult to leave.
 
 THE WORK-FIKLD REACHED. 53 
 
 The tall trees made the road seem very gloomy, and 
 the two hours which it took to pass through this cross 
 road seemed very long to Esther ; and she rejoiced 
 with her companion, when he pointed out to her a 
 house, situated on a little hill, as his home. The 
 lights which streamed from the windows seemed invi- 
 ting them to hasten, and offering them welcome, and 
 soon they halted before the door. 
 
 Loud shouts of " Father's come ! Father's come !" 
 were heard, as a troop of boys, of various sizes, rushed 
 out, on hearing Mr. Simpson's sonorous " whoa !" 
 
 The greeting which the new comers received in- 
 doors was equally cordial, and Mrs. Simpson, with the 
 assistance of a tall, awkward-looking girl, whom she 
 called Elvira, soon had a smoking-hot supper prepared 
 for them. 
 
 Esther was really very much fatigued, and her 
 rough ride had given her an appetite, so that she 
 readily agreed with Mr. Simpson, who declared him- 
 self " as hungry as a bear," and in thinking it a very 
 nice supper. 
 
 Meanwhile the children kept running backwards 
 and forwards, from the kitchen to the parlor (for these 
 were the only apartments on the first floor), peeping 
 curiously at Miss Hastings, and occasionally breaking 
 into a low giggle outside of the door. 
 
 " Young uns, go to bed 1" exclaimed Mrs. Simpson, 
 as she nearly stumbled over the youngest, Sammy, as 
 he was called. "You'll be the death of me yet! 
 They fly round like a hen with her head cut off," she 
 continued, to her husband ; who replied, " Oh, wall,
 
 54 NOW-A-DAY8. 
 
 young uns must be young uns ; taint no use trying to 
 make old men and women on urn." 
 
 Supper was soon over, and the dishes washed, for 
 the latter was speedily accomplished by Mrs. Simp- 
 son and her brisk assistant, Elvira, and they seated 
 themselves before the large fire-place, where huge 
 logs of wood were crackling, with a pleasant, cheerful 
 sound. 
 
 " "Wall, you look most beat out, Miss Hastings," ex- 
 claimed Mrs. Simpson ; " p'raps you want to go to 
 bed ?" 
 
 Esther replied, that she was indeed very tired ; and 
 Elvira at once arose, lighted a tallow candle, which 
 reposed in an iron candlestick, and signified her readi- 
 ness to show Esther her chamber. 
 
 Bidding the family good-night, they were ascending 
 a flight of stairs, when Mrs. Simpson called after them, 
 " to be sure and put the light out." 
 
 The staircase led into an unfinished chamber, where 
 several beds were made upon the floor, and loud 
 breathing denoted that they were already occupied. 
 They passed silently along to the farther end of the 
 apartment, where was a thin partition ; a patchwork 
 quilt formed the door, which Elvira lifted, and they 
 entered. 
 
 The room was unfinished, the boards of the floor 
 rattled under their tread, and the light revealed raft- 
 ers overhead ; a strip of rag carpeting was laid before 
 the bed, which, with a few chairs, a rickety wash- 
 stand, and a small table, over which hung a cracked 
 looking-glas*, comprised the furniture of the chamber.
 
 THE WORK-FIJ:LD REACHED. 55 
 
 Esther was about to bid her companion good-night, 
 but saw that she was preparing to sleep with her ; and 
 as she well knew that a request to be allowed a bed 
 alone would only be set down as pride, and feeling 
 herself above her companion, she said not a word. 
 
 Elvira was soon snugly ensconced in bed, and her 
 curious black eyes watched closely all Esther's move- 
 ments. Such close scrutiny was rather unpleasant, 
 and Esther hesitated for a moment, whether to kneel 
 in prayer before retiring ; but, despising herself, she 
 did so, and after her devotions were concluded, as she 
 was about to extinguish the candle, Elvira exclaimed, 
 " Don't blow the light out, put it out." 
 
 "That was what I was going to do," replied Esther. 
 
 " No ! no !" repeated Elvira ; " set it outside of the 
 quilt for Miss Simpson ; she'll be up arter it in a few 
 minutes." 
 
 Esther did as she was requested, and once in the 
 good, comfortable bed, was soon fast asleep. 
 
 " Breakfast's most ready !" were the first sounds 
 which greeted Esther's ears the following morning. 
 " Hadn't you better be a gittin up ?" 
 
 " Yes, Elvira," replied Esther, " I will be ready in 
 a few moments." She soon found, however, that the 
 washstand was merely intended for ornament, as there 
 was no water in the pitcher ; and as Elvira had dis- 
 appeared, she was obliged to defer her ablutions till 
 she went below ; resolving, however, as Mrs. Simpson, 
 in answer to her inquiries, pointed her to the sink in 
 the kitchen, that she would effect a reform in this 
 one particular, if in no other.
 
 56 NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 The table was already set, and Esther had hardly 
 finished her ablutions when quite a number of men, 
 dressed in red shirts, entered, headed by Mr. Simp- 
 son. These, Elvira told her, were the occupants of 
 the beds on the floor, up stairs, as they were on their 
 way to get things in readiness for logging operations 
 in the winter. They had come up timber hunting, 
 and had come out to the settlement to spend the night. 
 
 All now sat down to the table, upon which was a 
 smoking brown bread loaf, and a large plate of pork, 
 an equally large plate of beans, also another plate 
 heaped with boiled potatoes, and still another, filled 
 with warm biscuits. The ware was white, with blue 
 edges, and everything looked bright and clean, except 
 the knives, which appeared entirely unacquainted 
 with brick-dust, or any similar polisher. The coffee 
 looked very dark, and was rather thick. Esther soon 
 found that its dark hue was not owing to its strength, 
 but to its having been sweetened w T ith molasses ; as 
 Mrs. Simpson said, she " alus biled in a cup of molas- 
 ses, it made it so much better ; but she didn't know as 
 it was sweet enough for Miss Hastings," and oifered 
 her the bowl of molasses, to add a little more if ne- 
 cessary. This, Esther declined. 
 
 All at the table were now requested, by Mr. Simp- 
 son, " to take hold and help themselves," which they 
 immediately did, helping themselves to butter with 
 their own knives, and cutting the brown bread loaf 
 in the same manner. Mrs. Simpson helped Esther, 
 telling her "not to be bashful, and to make herself at 
 home." With the exception of this remark, very lit-
 
 THE WOKK-FIELI) BEACHED. 57 
 
 tie was said by any one during the meal, which was 
 speedily dispatched. 
 
 As it was Sunday morning, after breakfast was over, 
 Esther inquired if there was to be a meeting in the 
 vicinity. 
 
 " No," replied Mrs. Simpson, " we don't hev no 
 preachin, except Elder Eider onct in a while, about 
 onct in six weeks. They haint no stiddy meeting this 
 side of Patten." 
 
 " I wisht they was," remarked Elvira, " for Sunday's 
 a dreadful long day, with nothin to do, and the men- 
 folks stragglin round in the way, most all the time." 
 
 Sol, the oldest hope of Mr. Simpson, a tall awkward 
 boy of nineteen, now entered, saying, " Yirey, where's 
 my fishin line ?" 
 
 " How do you spose I know," responded Elvira, 
 rather tartly ; " you're always leavin your traps round. 
 I spose I tucked it into a box in the closet." 
 
 " "Wall, wall, don't get mad, and snap a feller's 
 head off," replied Sol, opening the closet door, and 
 soon finding the missing line. 
 
 On looking out of the window, Esther saw, to her 
 surprise, several men examining their guns, and one 
 or two with fish-hooks and lines, as if preparing for 
 sport. 
 
 " Where are these people going ?" she asked of El- 
 vira, as they started across the fields. 
 
 " Some on um gunnin, and some on um fishin," 
 
 coolly answered Vira. " We don't know much about 
 
 Sundays here," she continued, seeing Esthers look of 
 
 surprise. " I'm going to clear up here a little," she 
 
 3*
 
 58 NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 went on, " and then, if you're a mind to, I'll go in to 
 some of the neighbors with you. Miss Simpson !" 
 she called out, " come in here, and help me turn up 
 the bed." 
 
 Mrs. Simpson obeyed the summons; and to Esther's 
 surprise (for she had noticed the bed, but could not 
 imagine what they were about to do), pulled the outer 
 quilt down to the foot of the bed, and slowly lifted the 
 bedstead till it rested against the wall, arranging the 
 quilt so as to cover it quite nicely. 
 
 " Didn't you never see a turn-up bed afore ?" she 
 asked of Esther, who replied in the negative. 
 
 " Wall, they're mighty convenient things for folks 
 that haint got much room." 
 
 Elvira had soon swept the apartment, and cleared 
 up, as she called it, a process which Esther thought 
 consisted in tucking everything out of sight, most of 
 them going into the box where Sol had found his fish- 
 ing line. 
 
 This finished, Elvira again offered to make some 
 neighborly calls. This invitation Miss Hastings de- 
 clined, but proposed taking a walk into the woods, 
 which were now in all the glory of the Indian summer. 
 
 Elvira readily consented, taking a knife with her, 
 as she said she wanted to " get some broom-stuff, for 
 the broom she had now was a miserable thing, made 
 of hemlock, and that wan't fit for nothin, they was so 
 many sproozles. Cedar was the stuff for her." 
 
 They walked a short distance in silence, for Esther 
 was absorbed in the beauty of the scenery. They 
 were now in a rough road, which led directly through
 
 THE WOKK-FIKLD RKACHKD. 59 
 
 the forest. The wind sighed through the branches, 
 and the birds were singing their pleasantest songs; 
 the faint drumming of the partridge was heard occa- 
 sionally, and the quiet humming of insects, united 
 with these sounds, forming one of those delightful 
 melodies that a poet has so beautifully called "Ka- 
 ture's Voluntaries." 
 
 Crossing a gridiron bridge, as those rude structures 
 of logs are called, which are laid in marshy spots, they 
 soon came in full view of the Aroostook river, which 
 flowed gently on, fringed by almost every variety of 
 the undergrowth of the forest. 
 
 A beautiful meadow was formed there, which El- 
 vira said was called an " emterval" further explaining 
 that it was a tract of land which, during the spring 
 freshet, was overflowed and much enriched by this 
 temporary deluge. 
 
 " So do the waters of affliction, flowing over it, en- 
 rich the heart," thought Esther, for it was a habit of 
 her mind to seek analogies between the material and 
 the spiritual world. 
 
 " Is that an island opposite ?" she asked, of her com- 
 panion. 
 
 " Oh, no ; that's the main land. You see this river 
 crooks round like, and makes what they call the ox- 
 bow. We are in the ox-bow now. You've seen an 
 ox-yoke, haint you? so you know now what shape this 
 ere land is. Folks say you can see Katahdin from 
 here ; p'raps you can." 
 
 Esther looked fixedly in the direction indicated by
 
 60 NOW-A-DAT3. 
 
 Elvira, and either saw, or imagined she did, the misty 
 outline of that high and snow-capped peak. 
 
 Her heart glowed with pride in her native State as 
 she stood there. She felt as if she would challenge 
 the world to produce a wilder, and yet more quietly 
 beautiful scene, than that on which she gazed; and 
 this was but one, and by no means the most beautiful 
 view that she had seen in Maine. Here was all the 
 glory of Vermont's forests and hills, and, added to 
 that, the river, which lends so much beauty to any 
 landscape. The purity of an Italian sky, with, if 
 travellers say aright, greater and more beautiful 
 changes. 
 
 She thought of the rocky shores of the upper Pe- 
 nobscot, and its frequent rapids, as it flows towards 
 the sea, gaming, like the human character, new 
 strength from the obstacles which it encounters ; and, 
 flowing in a deeper and calmer current, ever onward 
 to the sea, as does our life river mingle at last with 
 eternity's ocean. 
 
 But her mind was recalled from the various pictures 
 that memory was summoning before her, dissimilar in- 
 deed in their character, yet alike in the silent lessons 
 of truth and beauty which they teach, by the voice of 
 Vira, who asked, abruptly, " Be you a professor ?" 
 
 " Yes," replied Esther, who understood the techni- 
 cal term which most of the backwoods people apply 
 to Christians. 
 
 " Wall, I thought you was, when I see you kneel 
 last night," returned Elvira. 
 
 "And do you never ask God's protection through
 
 THE WORK-FIELD BEACHED. 61 
 
 the night, and his forgiveness for your sins through 
 the day 2" asked Esther. 
 
 " Wall, no, I aint apt to," replied Yira. " I spose 
 I'd orter, but folks don't alus do as well as they 
 know." 
 
 " That is very true, Elvira," said Esther ; " still it is 
 no excuse for us, when we do wrong, that others do 
 the same. I hope," she continued, " that you will 
 begin to do what you know is right, in this one thing 
 at least. 
 
 Several children now scampered by, looking back 
 shyly. "Whose children are those?" asked Miss 
 Hastings. 
 
 " Oh ! some on urn's Emery's, and some on urn's 
 Haley's ; they're alus racing round, all over the lot, 
 Sundays." 
 
 Esther made no reply, but mentally resolved that 
 she would attempt to make a slight reform in this 
 manner of spending the Sabbath. A Sunday school 
 she determined to establish, if possible ; and, building 
 many a pleasant air-castle, she returned to the house.
 
 CHAPTEE VI. 
 
 WORK BEGUN. 
 
 MONDAY morning had arrived, and Esther was 
 aroused very early, by the loud sounds that are usu- 
 ally said to be accompaniments of that morning the 
 world over. 
 
 " It's thump, thump ! and scold, scold ! scold, scold away 1 
 There is no comfort in the house, upon a washing-day." 
 
 Both Elvira and Mrs. Simpson were flying briskly 
 about the kitchen, as Miss Hastings entered it, both 
 with elf-locks hanging loosely down, and greatly ab- 
 breviated gowns, which displayed to great advantage 
 both their muscular arms and feet, whose size would 
 have horrified a Chinese, to say the least ; it was evi- 
 dent that " utility before beauty" had been the prin- 
 ciple upon which the aforesaid feet had been con- 
 structed. 
 
 Mrs. Simpson greeted her guest kindly, and bent 
 again over her wash-tubs, sousing the garments up 
 and down in the white foaming suds, with a vehe- 
 mence that seemed well adapted to test the strength 
 of the fabric of which they were made. 
 
 " Poke down them are clothes over the fire," she 
 exclaimed, to Elvira, who was getting breakfast, and 
 replied, rather tartly
 
 WORK BEGUN. 63 
 
 " Wall ! wall ! in a minit ! I haint got six hands, 
 and the only two I've got is fryin pork now, and I 
 shan't let it scorch for nobody. Clear out, Sam !" she 
 exclaimed, in her turn, to the youngest of the flock 
 of white-headed urchins. " Get out of my sight 1 
 You're alus right in the way when nobody wants ye, 
 and alus gone, nobody knows whar, ef ye are needed 
 to do an errand." 
 
 Sam made no reply to this, but, pulling his mother's 
 gown, to attract her attention, began, in rather a whim- 
 pering tone, to ask " ef breakfast wan't most ready." 
 
 " Clear out !" was the parent's reply, in not the 
 most amiable tone ; " go long into t'other room, with 
 Miss Hastings." 
 
 Esther at once took the hint, and seated herself in 
 the t'other room, where she endeavored to interest 
 Sammy. But he was very shy, and, looking very 
 sheepish and bashful, either made no reply to her 
 remarks, or in so low a tone, that what he said was 
 quite unintelligible. He stayed but a few moments 
 with her, but escaped again into the kitchen, where, 
 as before, he was greeted by loud and angry voices, 
 which he seemed to think a matter of course, and to 
 which he paid not the slightest attention. 
 
 Breakfast was soon ready, and nearly as soon over, 
 and Esther prepared to go to her duties as teacher. 
 
 Guided by Sammy, who, though barefooted, trotted 
 briskly over the sticks and stones in their path, she 
 soon reached the school-house. It was situated in an 
 opening, as a spot in the forest cleared of trees' is 
 called, where stumps of large size were scattered
 
 64 NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 thickly around. It was a very pretty place, for the 
 tall primeval forest trees were standing, not far dis- 
 tant, in all their evergreen majesty, while, sprinkled 
 among them, were the maple, birch, and beech trees, 
 decked in the fanciful and many-colored robes that 
 autumn gives them. The maple, with its reddish- 
 yellow tints, the delicate straw-color of the birch, and 
 the deeper yellow of the thick, clustering, though 
 smaller leaves of the beech, gave a brilliancy to the 
 deep forest, to which the evergreens, stately though 
 they were, would have given rather a sombre appear- 
 ance, had they not been mingled with their more 
 graceful, though frailer sisterhood. 
 
 The school-house itself was by no means the least 
 picturesque object in the scene. It was not very 
 large, and was built entirely of logs, piled in a square 
 form, the bark still on them, and the ends sticking 
 out at the four corners, with no thought of being 
 fitted together. The chinksj which were unavoidable, 
 from this manner of building, were filled with moss 
 to keep out the rain. The roof was pointed, and com- 
 posed of smaller logs, over which was spread the 
 bark of the hemlock. The windows, which were com- 
 posed of but four panes of glass each, were of course 
 small, and were also irregular. The door was very 
 white and fair, for, owing to the scarcity of boards 
 there, as there was no saw-mill near, it had been split 
 out of a pine log. A leather string hung outside, 
 which Esther pulled ; the wooden latch flew up on 
 the other side, and she entered the house. 
 
 The loud shouts of laughter which resounded from
 
 WOKE BKGUN. 65 
 
 the school- room had prepared her to see many of her 
 pupils already assembled there ; and on her entrance 
 there was a pause, for all were curious to see the new 
 mistress. 
 
 Esther glanced first at the group of scholars, of all 
 ages and sizes, collected there ; then at the interior of 
 her new premises. 
 
 It was equally as rough as the exterior had led her 
 to expect. The floor was of boards, which were so 
 loosely placed, that they rattled beneath her tread. 
 The walls differed only from the outside, in having 
 the bark hewed oft' from the logs ; but the three large 
 logs which ran across the room, to support the roof, 
 answering the purpose of beams, were free from bark 
 on the lower side only. There was no ceiling over- 
 head, nothing but the mere shell of a house. 
 
 A large rock chimney, built like a stone wall, also 
 did double duty, as fireplace. The large stick of tim- 
 ber which formed the boundary line making known 
 where the fireplace ended and the chimney began, 
 
 bore marks of having been on fire at some time, for it 
 
 w 
 
 was scorched and blackened. A fire was now burn- 
 ing, though it was not yet very cold weather. The 
 wood rested on two large rocks, which were pressed 
 into service as andirons, and still 'other stones, some 
 flat, and some sticking up their sharp edges, were 
 placed before the fireplace, making a very serviceable 
 hearth. 
 
 The benches were merely boards, some of them 
 having round sticks stuck in the ends as a support, 
 while others rested on pieces of board nailed to them,
 
 66 NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 and still others, having been broken down, were placed 
 on large stones. Planed boards were nailed against 
 the walls, in a sloping direction, to serve the purpose 
 of writing-desks ; and on these laid books and slates, in 
 most " admired disorder." Neither benches or desks 
 were adorned with paint of any description. 
 
 Esther looked in vain for her seat of majesty. 
 There was neither platform or desk for her; but a 
 chair stood in one corner, which she immediately 
 appropriated. 
 
 The girls had now commenced hanging their outer 
 garments on some nails, which were driven into one 
 corner of the room. These proving insufficient for 
 all their clothes, a pile was thrown upon the floor, be- 
 neath those that were hung up, and tin pails, con- 
 taining their respective dinners, were scattered in 
 various cornel's of the apartment. 
 
 [t was nine o'clock. Esther looked in vain for 
 something to call the attention of the noisy troop to 
 that fact, but no bell was there ; not even a stick to 
 pound against the walls. 
 
 She arose. 
 
 " Children !" said she, " you may take your seats ; 
 it is time for school to commence." 
 
 A scramble ensued, afid presently all were seated. 
 
 There was a pause, when, all of a sudden, with a 
 thump and several screams, -down came one seat, 
 which, having been supported by a stone, Esther 
 shrewdly suspected had been helped to fall by the 
 boy who sat at the end of it, and who looked as 
 solemn as possible, though he could not prevent the
 
 WORK BEGUN. 67 
 
 merry twinkle of a mischief-lover, from appearing in 
 his eyes. 
 
 After the laughter, which this accident caused, had 
 subsided, Esther began to address her pupils. 
 
 " I am glad to see you all this pleasant morning,'' 
 said she. " You have come here for the purpose of 
 learning, and I hope that the few weeks that we spend 
 together will be of great advantage to you. I shall 
 hope to find you all attentive and obedient, and you 
 will find me always ready to help you to become well 
 educated men and women. Who know r s," she con- 
 tinued, " but that some day I shall see some of my 
 pupils in Congress at Washington, helping to make 
 the laws of the land ? Stranger things than that have 
 happened," she added, as a giggle greeted this remark. 
 " Kow, children, you may take your Testaments, and 
 we will read a few verses." 
 
 There was a stir, a running to the sloping desk 
 against the wall, but she soon perceived that there 
 were but few who had books. 
 
 " Very well," said she, " I see that you are not all 
 supplied this morning, so we will omit it till to-mor- 
 row. We will begin our school by repeating the Lord's 
 Prayer. You may all kneel," she continued ; and as 
 she was obeyed, she knelt also, and repeated those 
 solemn and beautiful words, that have thrilled the 
 heart of the Christian, whenever he has heard or 
 uttered them, retaining ever a portion of the same 
 power that they had, when first they fell from the lips 
 of the meek and lowly Jesus, as he taught them to 
 his humble disciples.
 
 OS NOW-A-DATS. 
 
 The prayer being finished, she set herself to work 
 to write down the names of her pupils ; and having 
 accomplished this, which took no little time, she told 
 all those who did not know their letters to come out 
 together. 
 
 Nobody answered the summons; and she was 
 ooliged to ask each little one, whom she suspected to 
 to be about to take this first difficult step in the ladder 
 of learning, separately. 
 
 Her pleasant smile and kind words soon did much 
 to divest them of the bashfulness which she had 
 rightly judged to be the only reason for their disobe- 
 dience ; and having pointed out the different letters 
 to some dozen flaxen-haired and lisping children, she 
 dismissed them agajfl to their seats. 
 
 " Those who read in some reader" she now called 
 upon, and a long file was soon stretched across the 
 room, some of them standing with their toes on a 
 crack, heads erect, and arms folded stifly across their 
 breasts, others leaning negligently on the shoulder of 
 their next neighbor. 
 
 Several had no book whatever. The greater part, 
 however, were supplied, but unfortunately the books 
 were nearly as diverse as their owners. The English 
 Reader, the Columbian Orator, and the American 
 Preceptor, had each about an equal number of read- 
 ers. Morse's Geography, one held up in triumph as 
 his book ; another had the National Reader ; while still 
 another, coming down to modern times, owned an 
 American First Class Book.
 
 WORK BEGUN. 69 
 
 " This is bad," thought Esther, " it will oblige me 
 to have so many classes in reading." 
 
 " I will hear you read," she said ; and taking a book 
 she selected a passage, and gave it to the first of the 
 row. 
 
 The pupil, a tall and awkward girl, just emerging 
 from childhood, and entering that period, the transi- 
 tion state, when the girl becomes at once conscious 
 that she is no longer a child, and, with the conscious- 
 ness of self, loses the freshness and abandon that ren- 
 der childhood so beautiful, too often gaining nothing 
 of value in its place, complied with her teacher's re- 
 quest, and read straight on, heeding neither stops or 
 marks of any kind, in a loud and unvarying monotone. 
 
 All the rest read in quite a sirnUar style, some even 
 in a worse one, and Esther was glad to dismiss them 
 to their seats. 
 
 " Please m'y g'wout ?'' asked one girl, popping up 
 from her seat. 
 
 " The girls may all go for a short recess," was her 
 teacher's reply. 
 
 When girls and boys in turn had enjoyed their 
 recess, Miss Hastings called upon the class in Gram- 
 mar, and nearly all of the last class in Reading re-ap- 
 peared. Murray's Grammar was the principal text- 
 book, though some few had a little primer-shaped 
 volume, of rather an antiquated appearance, called 
 "The Young Lady's Accidence." 
 
 "Oh! if I only had a black-board!" was Esther's 
 inward sigh ; but as that was out of the question, she 
 attempted to do the next best thing in her power.
 
 70 NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 In answer to her inquiries, as to how far each had 
 advanced in the study, she found that the most of 
 them had gone over a good number of pages ; but, 
 from some few questions that she asked, she concluded 
 that they had at best a very vague idea of what they 
 hud committed to memory. 
 
 "What is Grammar?" 
 
 " It is the art of writing and speaking the English 
 language with propriety," rapidly answered Bill 
 Smith, who stood at the head, and who appeared well 
 pleased to be questioned. 
 
 " Are we English peeple ?" asked his teacher. 
 
 " No, marm." 
 
 " Do we speak the English language ?" 
 
 Bill scratched hie^head, then plunged his hands into 
 his trowsers' pockets, and made no reply. 
 
 " Who in the class can tell me what sort of people 
 speak the English language ? Any one who knows 
 may raise his hand." 
 
 No hand arose. 
 
 Esther continued. " You know there are a great 
 many different people living in different parts of the 
 world ; and if we were to go there, we could not un- 
 derstand what they said, because they speak differ- 
 ently from us. They all have bread to eat, and beds 
 to sleep on ; but if we were hungry, and asked for 
 bread, or sleepy, and asked ibr a bed to rest on, as 
 we do here, they would not know what we wanted. 
 For instance, the French call bread pain, the Ger- 
 mans, brod. The language that the French people 
 use is called French that of the Germans is called
 
 WORK BEGUN. 71 
 
 German. Now, who can tell me what people would 
 be likely to talk English r <" 
 
 " The English," shouted all, with sparkling eyes. 
 
 " And could we understand the English, if we went 
 to England, where they live ?" 
 
 " Yes !" and " No !" cried about an equal number. 
 
 " What country do we live in?" 
 
 " America !" screamed all. 
 
 " What language do we speak ?" 
 
 "Not quite right," said Esther. We speak the 
 English language, and can understand the English, 
 of course. And now, Who can tell me how it hap- 
 pens that we Americans speak the same language with 
 the English?" 
 
 There was a long pause. Some of the boys scratched 
 their heads ; some shifted uneasily from one foot to the 
 other ; some plunged their hands deep into their pock- 
 ets, as if they hoped to draw out a reply from their 
 depths profound the girls twisted their apron-strings ; 
 but none of these movements answered the question. 
 
 Esther then proceeded, in a very concise manner, to 
 tell them of the coming of our ancestors from Eng- 
 land to America, describing vividly their landing on 
 Plymouth Kock, to which all listened with parted lips 
 and eager eyes. It was evident that they had some 
 new ideas. 
 
 Having finished this digression, she resumed. 
 
 "What is a noun?" 
 
 " A noun is a name," answered Mary Haley, the 
 girl who stood next to the head.
 
 72 NOW-A-DAY8. 
 
 " And how many kinds are there ? Any one may 
 raise his hand who can tell me." 
 
 A great many were raised. 
 
 Esther selected a bright-eyed little girl, who stood 
 near the foot, from the number. 
 
 " How many kinds are there ?" 
 
 " Three !" she exclaimed ; " active, passive, and 
 neuter." 
 
 "No! the next." 
 
 " Two ! regular and irregular." 
 
 " No ! the next again." 
 
 " Three ! masculine, femjpine, and neuter." 
 
 " No ! that is not what I mean. William Smith, 
 you can tell me ?" 
 
 44 Yes marm ! two common and proper." 
 
 " Right !" said his teacher. " Now, what part of 
 speech is cow ?" 
 
 " Noun !" shouted several ; while others, somewhat 
 daunted by the late failures of their schoolmates, 
 wisely held their peace. 
 
 " Why do you think it is a noun ?" 
 
 A hand was raised near the foot. 
 
 " Speak, my dear," said Miss Hastings, encourag- 
 ingly, to the little girl who had before missed a ques- 
 tion. 
 
 " Please, marm, it haint." 
 
 Esther smiled. 
 
 " How many think cow is a noun ?" 
 
 About ten hands went up ; but, as she still kept 
 silence, five dropped again. 
 
 "How many think cow is not a noun?"
 
 WORK BEGUN. 73 
 
 All the hands flew up again, except Bill Smith's, 
 who stood looking very much puzzled. 
 
 " William, why do you not raise your hand ?" 
 
 " Coz, marm, I think 'tis a noun. I've heern it 
 parsed so many a time ; and our last schoolmarm said 
 it was." 
 
 " You are right, William, it is : and to-morrow I will 
 teach you all how you may tell a noun, whenever you 
 see one. Now I must call for the Geography class." 
 
 Again there was the same difficulty in arranging 
 the class, on account of the variety of the text-books. 
 
 Morse's, Cummings', ]\|alte-Brun's, and Olney's, 
 divided the class of ten or twelve pupils. 
 
 Esther found them tolerably well versed in some 
 matters, such as the capitals of different countries and 
 their population, but having no more definite ideas 
 of this study than of any other. 
 
 It seemed to her that her predecessor had been con- 
 tent with enforcing the committing of the lessons to 
 memory, without caring whether her pupils under- 
 stood the words which they repeated ; and she men- 
 tally agreed with Mrs. Simpson, who had told her 
 that the last teacher " wan't no great shakes." 
 
 " What color is France 1" asked Miss Hastings. 
 
 "Blue!" "Yellow!" "Green!" exclaimed each, 
 as it happened to be painted on their several maps. 
 
 " What color is America?" asked their teacher. 
 
 The more thoughtful paused ; others replied, giving 
 it various tints. 
 
 " We live in America, do we not 2" 
 
 "Yes!" 
 
 4
 
 74 NOW A-DAYS. 
 
 " Look out of doors now, and you will see that it is 
 not a flat place, with but one color, though it is so 
 represented on the map. Just so it is with other 
 countries ; they have hills, and woods, and fields, and 
 the blue sky overhead. On the maps it would take too 
 much room to paint them so ; and men have measured 
 the countries, and put down their general shape on 
 paper, with the most important rivers and towns in 
 each, and have had them colored, so that you can 
 form an idea where one country begins and another 
 ends. I wanted to explain this to you ; because, when 
 I was small myself, I had an idea just as you have, 
 that the moment I stepped from Germany, which was 
 green on my map, into France, if I ever went there, 
 that I should know it by its being Hue / so you see 
 that you are not the only children who have had the 
 same thoughts about that. Can you tell me now 
 what is the capital of Maine ?" 
 
 "Augusta." 
 
 "Right and what is a capital of what use is it?" 
 
 No one replied. 
 
 " A capital is a town or city that is selected by the 
 people of a state for the place where they build a 
 state-house, where the legislature, that is, the people 
 who are chosen to make the laws, meets, and where 
 the governor goes to meet his council, to decide on 
 different public matters. It is quite important to 
 have such a place, so that anybody who is chosen to 
 help make the laws, knows just where to go. Every 
 state has such a town, which is called the capital. 
 The class may now go to their seats," said Esther,
 
 WORK BEGUN. 75 
 
 after asking some few additional questions, for it was 
 now time for the intermission at noon. 
 
 Mrs. Simpson had informed her that it was custom- 
 ary to give the " younguns an hour's noonin,'' and she 
 now dismissed them. 
 
 The little room presented at once a lively scene. 
 The boys vented their superabundant animal spirits, 
 which had been somewhat repressed by the restraint 
 of school hours, in loud whoops and halloos, as they 
 rushed out of doors. Here they wrestled with each 
 other, or played u tag" with the wilder girls, while 
 the more quiet walked around the school-house. 
 
 Soon the claims of appetite bega.ii to assert them- 
 selves, and little groups surrounded their dinner-pails 
 and had quite a social time. 
 
 Several offered a part of their lunches, which con- 
 sisted of large molasses doughnuts, bread and butter, 
 and gingerbread, principally, to Miss Hastings, who 
 accepted a little from each, though amply provided 
 for by Mrs. Simpson, who had laden Sammy with a 
 pail, whose contents he felt extremely proud of sharing 
 with the " school inarm." 
 
 Esther heard him repeatedly exulting over the fact 
 that " she was goin' to live to his house," to which, 
 at last, some who grew rather provoked at his self- 
 complacency, replied that " she would tell his marm 
 everything he did in school." 
 
 Hereupon an animated discussion ensued, and was 
 only interrupted, just as it was on the point of ending 
 in blows, by Miss Hastings' announcement that the 
 hour had expired.
 
 76 NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 Once again settled into quiet, she proceeded to call 
 the classes in spelling, and greatly would old Noah 
 "Webster have been surprised had he heard the twist- 
 ing of letters and syllables that followed. 
 
 Some seemed determined to insert any number of 
 silent letters into the simplest words, while others, 
 and the greater number, put into practice and as ri- 
 gidly adhered to the phonetic system. 
 
 Mary Haley's theory was the first one, and she 
 pressed so many letters into her service at each word 
 given her, that she could hardly fail to have some 
 of the right ones among the number. 
 
 Bill Smith was equally good in the rival system, 
 and as Esther passed the words from the one to the 
 other, as they stood side by side, she could hardly help 
 smiling at the contrast between their methods, and 
 the consistency with which each adhered to his or her 
 favorite one. 
 
 " Spell circuit." 
 
 Bill replied " s-u-r-k-i-t" 
 
 " No, the next." 
 
 " S-u-r-r-q-u-e-t-t-e," answered Miss Mary. 
 
 From thence it passed through the class till it 
 reached a little boy, who had been anxiously awaiting 
 his turn, listening with fear to each trial, and smiles 
 lighting up his face as it was missed by those above 
 him. It came his turn. He spelled it correctly, and 
 went in triumph up to the head. 
 
 " Please marm, he peeked into his spellin' book," 
 exclaimed the boy below him. 
 
 " Oh I navar !"
 
 WORK BEGUN. 77 
 
 " Did you see him ?" asked Miss Hastings of the 
 accuser. He ung his head. " I know he did," said 
 he. 
 
 " I think you must be mistaken," was her reply, 
 and she thought how singular it is that the elevation 
 of an equal should so offend us, and lead us even to 
 impute wrong motives and actions to him, when we 
 can look with admiration on an acknowledged supe- 
 rior occupying the same place, and feel not the slight- 
 est envy towards him. 
 
 Eecess followed, after which, classes in arithmetic 
 were called up, and hardly had Esther finished this 
 when four o'clock announced to the glad scholars that 
 school hours for that day were over. 
 
 " This has been a happy, busy day," said Esther to 
 herself as she walked slowly homeward, her mind 
 filled with undeveloped plans for the future. " What 
 a field is open to me here ! The minds of these child- 
 ren are as fresh, wild, and unwrought as the country 
 in which they live. It is mine to fell and uproot the 
 strong trees of ignorance, and plant in their stead 
 the precious seeds of knowledge and truth. It will 
 require hard labor indeed, but nothing good or great 
 springs up and grows in the soil of earth or of the 
 heart without cultivation. 
 
 " I have found the place to work in ! And how 
 much more fortunate am I than many who move 
 wearily about in life, asking sadly ' to what purpose 
 am I living ? What is there for me to do ?' Thank 
 God that he has both shown me what to do and given 
 me strength to enter upon my task."
 
 
 CHAPTEK YII. 
 
 THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH. 
 
 NEARLY a month had passed away, and Esther, to 
 her great gratification, now saw some of her plans in 
 successful operation. The Sabbath-school had met 
 with no opposition, for the parents were only too glad 
 to be free from the noise of their restless children, 
 even if but for a short time in the day. 
 
 She had felt somewhat discouraged, on entering 
 her day school for the first time, and finding it com- 
 posed of scholars of all ages, from the youth of nine- 
 teen or twenty, and girls much larger than she her- 
 self, down to the lisping child who had never learned 
 its letters ; and her examination of the books which 
 they had brought with them, as we have seen, only 
 increased her perplexity, since hardly two had the 
 same book, as they had taken whatever their parents 
 had happened to have in the house. 
 
 She knew that it would take too long to procure 
 books alike, even if the people had the inclination 
 and ability to purchase them, and after a while had 
 succeeded in getting her classes into tolerable order. 
 She decided, however, that she must resort in a great 
 measure to oral instruction, and soon had the satisfac-
 
 VALLEY -OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH. 79 
 
 
 
 tion of seeing her pupils interested, and she hoped, 
 progressing. 
 
 The snow had come and covered the ground to a 
 considerable depth, but as her evenings were occu- 
 pied principally in preparing for her classes, the long 
 hem's did not pass heavily. She had made the ac- 
 quaintance of the families in the neighborhood, and 
 had found one or two possessed of considerable culti- 
 vation. 
 
 It was late in the afternoon that she was sitting in 
 the front room, talking with her little favorite Sammy, 
 when the door suddenly opened, and a young girl 
 entered. 
 
 " How d'ye do ?'' said she, seating herself near the 
 fire-place, and throwing back her hood, she shook 
 down a mass of long ringlets. " Folks pretty well ?'' 
 she continued. 
 
 Esther assured her that they were. 
 
 " I dunno as you know who I be," proceeded the 
 stranger. " Wall, I'm Araminty Cornish I'm a 
 stayin' to Miss Williams' now, fur a spell." 
 
 " And how is Mrs. Williams to-day P asked Esther, 
 with a good deal of interest, for she was quite a favor- 
 ite of hers, "and how is the babe ?" 
 
 " Oh ! They're both on 'ern well enough ! Miss 
 Williams is rather spleeny, I think, to speak my mind, 
 but spleeny folks alus gits along pooty well, I'll risk 
 um. Her youngun's a fortnight old most, and she 
 haint teched to do a livin' thing about house yit. 
 There's Miss Haley, she's done her wash in' and her 
 youngun aint but four weeks old, nuther."
 
 80 XOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 Mrs. Simpson now entered, and^ after talking awhile 
 with Araminta, the latter remarked that she " bleeved 
 she'd drop in and see Miss Haley," and abruptly took 
 her leave. 
 
 " I'm goin' down to see Miss Williams'," said Elvira, 
 as she entered, ready dressed to go out. 
 
 " 1^ will go with you, if you will wait a moment or 
 two," said Esther, and hastily putting on her bonnet 
 and shawl, she started. 
 
 " I hope you've wropped up warm," remarked El- 
 vira, " for it's snappin' cold out." 
 
 They walked on a few steps in silence, when Elvira 
 broke out, " That Minty Cornish is the slimpsiest piece 
 that ever I see. She talks about Miss Williams bein' 
 spleeny ; all she thinks on is gaddiu' about among the 
 neighbors and standin' before the glass twistin' them 
 curls of her'n round her fingers. I hed as good a 
 mind as ever I hed to eat, to give her a good dressin' 
 down, when she was talkin' so mighty nippant about 
 Miss Williams." 
 
 Mrs. Williams' house was not far distant, and they 
 soon reached it, entering without the ceremony of 
 knocking, as was the fashion of the country. 
 
 It was a log-house, and the outer door opened di- 
 rectly into the kitchen, a large room heated by the 
 usual great fireplace. The chimney was made of 
 rocks, and a large flat stone formed the hearth. The 
 fire had now burned low, and it seemed quite cold 
 there. An open door led into a small bedroom, and 
 a feeble voice said, as they entered, " Is that you,
 
 VALLEY OF THK SHADOW OF DEATH. 81 
 
 Minty ? I'm glad you have come, for it seems very 
 cold. I think the fire has gone down." 
 
 "It is not Araminta," said Esther, entering the bed- 
 room, and approaching Mrs. Williams; she noticed, 
 as she did so, that she was shivering as if with the 
 ague, and hastily stepped out to arrange the fire. El- 
 vira, however, was already thus employed, and as 
 Esther came near, said, " Haint this pooty work ? To 
 go off and leave a sick woman alone, so 1" 
 
 Esther meantime was examining a compound which 
 stood in a small frying-pan on the hearth, while Elvira 
 asked Mrs. Williams " What under the sun she let 
 Minty go for?" 
 
 " She went to get some milk to put in my gruel," 
 replied Mrs. Williams. " I have had nothing to eat 
 for some tfme, and feel rather faint." 
 
 "Good for nothin' trollop!" ejaculated Elvira, en- 
 tering the kitchen again. 
 
 " This, I suppose, is meant for gruel," said Esther, 
 " but it is poor trash, and I think we had better make 
 some fresh." 
 
 " That's my mind," replied Elvira. " Trash ! why 
 'taint fit for the hogs to eat. You go in and make 
 Miss Williams comfortable, and I'll see to the gruel." 
 
 Esther complied, and was shocked to see, on re-en- 
 tering the bedroom, that the flush of fever had suc- 
 ceeded to the chills which had shaken Mrs. Williams' 
 slight frame, and putting her hand on the sick 
 woman's brow, found it burning. She shook up the 
 pillows, and immediately procuring some cold water, 
 bathed with gentle hand the sufferer's fevered brow.
 
 82 NOW-A-DAY8. 
 
 Mrs. Williams' cap had fallen off, and her long silky 
 brown hair lay disordered on the pillow. " Poor 
 child !" said Esther, half aloud, as she gazed on the 
 fair young invalid. 
 
 Tears stole over Mrs. Williams' cheeks as she heard 
 these words and felt the caressing hand of Esther on 
 her head. She covered her face with her hand, and 
 lay weeping silently. The babe, who had been sleeping, 
 now awoke, and Esther strove to turn the mother's at- 
 tention to her child by praising its deep blue eyes, so 
 like its parents', and partially succeeded. 
 
 Elvira soon entered, bearing the gruel, and declar- 
 ing that " there wa'nt a dish fit to be used in the 
 whole house ; she wondered, for her part, that they 
 wa'nt all pizoned with the dirt." After a few mo- 
 ments' pause, she inquired " Where's Williams ?" 
 
 "He went this morning to get some meal," replied 
 his wife ; " I expect him home every moment." 
 
 In fact, as she spoke, a horse-sled drove up to the 
 door, and Mr. Williams entered. He came directly to 
 the bedroom, and with a " How d'ye do ?" to Elvira and 
 a bow to Esther, approached his wife, asking her how 
 she felt. 
 
 "Why, you look real smart," he said, as he gazed 
 at her admiringly. " Your cheeks are as red as roses. 
 But where's Minty ?" he went on. 
 
 " She's gone off," replied Elvira, " and left Miss 
 Williams all soul alone. I dunno but she'd a froze, if 
 it hadn't been for me and Miss Hastings." 
 
 At if in verification of the old proverb, relating to 
 the appearance of a rather suspicious person when he
 
 VALLKY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH. 83 
 
 is spoken of, Miss Cornish now entered, and to Mr. 
 Williams' angry inquiry " Why she had left his wife 
 so long ?" replied " Lord ! what a fuss ! I just stepped 
 into a neighbor's to git some milk." Then, flouncing 
 out of the room, she muttered something about " some 
 folks alus thinkin' they must be waited on by inches, 
 and if she didn't suit, they might git somebody else." 
 
 She hardly deigned to bestow a nod or look on 
 Esther and Elvira, as they passed through the kitchen 
 on their homeward way. 
 
 "Poor Mrs. Williams!" sighed Esther, as they 
 walked briskly over the smooth road. 
 
 " Don't you think she'll git up?" asked Elvira. 
 
 " I don't know," replied Esther ; " I am not much 
 accustomed to sickness, but I am afraid that it will be 
 a long time first, if indeed she ever recovers. She 
 needs careful nursing." 
 
 " Wall ! I guess she'll have to git somebody besides 
 Minty Cornish to give it to her," retorted Elvira, " for 
 she hain't good for nothin', for all she thinks she's the 
 biggest toad in the puddle." 
 
 Mrs. Simpson seemed quite shocked at the account 
 they gave of their sick neighbor, on their return, and 
 soon after tea, went to see Mrs. Williams for herself. 
 
 She found her in a high fever, and immediately 
 dispatched a messenger for a physician, though the 
 nearest one resided in Patten, some thirty miles dis- 
 tant. 
 
 "Wall!" said Elvira, "Miss Williams must be 
 dreadful sick, for Miss Simpson haint no great friend 
 to doctors, she's sich a good miss herself, and I never
 
 84: NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 knowed her to send arter Dr. Plummer, 'thout 'twas 
 a case of life and death." 
 
 The doctor shook his head ominously when he ar- 
 rived and saw his patient, saying he feared that there 
 \vas nothing which he could do to restore her to 
 health. 
 
 " I fear," said he to Mrs. Simpson, " that she is in 
 a rapid consumption. I will do my best, but the re- 
 sult is in God's hands." 
 
 But Mr. Williams would not believe so unwelcome 
 an opinion. His wife suffered so little and seemed so 
 cheerful that he could not think she was so soon to 
 be taken from him. 
 
 " All you need, Nelly," he would say to his wife, 
 whenever she spoke of her approaching departure, 
 " all you need, in the world, is something strengthen- 
 ing ; you'll get up fast enough when you get over 
 these sweats and fever turns, that weaken you so." 
 
 " Ah !" she would reply with a sad smile and tear- 
 ful eyes, " my days on earth are numbered !" 
 
 Esther was now much with her, for Mrs. Williams 
 seemed much attached to her, and talked often to her 
 of her approaching death. 
 
 " I have thought for a long time past,'' she said one 
 day when they were alone together, " that I should 
 never recover ; and there are some few things that I 
 should like to arrange before I die. My husband will 
 not listen to me when I speak of death, and I must 
 intrust my wishes to you. You will see, will you not, 
 Miss Hastings, that my requests are fulfilled?" she 
 went on, looking earnestly into her friend's eyes.
 
 VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH. 85 
 
 Esther signified her readiness to do so, by a mute 
 assent, and Mrs. Williams continued, while tears 
 gushed to her eyes, " I should like to live, for the sake 
 of my husband and this dear child, if it could be so 
 but it is my Father. ' Let Him do what seemeth 
 him good.' I hope I can say * His will be done.' It 
 is hard indeed to leave this dear babe without a 
 mother's care !" said she, pressing her child to her 
 heart convulsively. " Poor little helpless one !" she 
 exclaimed, while tears streamed over her pale face. 
 
 " Remember who has said ' And all thy childfen 
 shall be taught of the Lord, and great shall be the 
 peace of them,' " said Esther. Mrs. Williams raised 
 her eyes to heaven, while Esther continued, " ' He shall 
 feed his flock like a shepherd ; he shall gather the 
 lambs in his arms and carry them in his bosom.' Can 
 you not trust your lamb to the Shepherd of Israel ?" 
 
 " I can, I do !" replied the mother, while a smile of 
 holy trust lighted up her sad eyes. "But now will 
 you not read to me some of the sweet consolations 
 which our Father offers to his weak children?" 
 
 Esther complied ; and as she saw the calmness with 
 which her friend contemplated that great change 
 which was so soon to take place, she inwardly ex- 
 claimed, " Let me die the death of the righteous, and 
 let my last end be like his." 
 
 It was now late, and Esther rose to take her leave. 
 Mrs. Williams took her hand, pressing it fondly, as if 
 unwilling to have her go. " You will remember," 
 she said, " to write to my aunt of my death, and of 
 my child. She is not a Christian, and this will be a
 
 86 NOW-A-DAY.S. 
 
 heavy blow to her ; buf tell her that I begged her, as 
 my last request, to go to Jesus for consolation. I have 
 told you that she has been a mother to me, ever since 
 I was left, as this little one will soon be, motherless." 
 Her voice was choked, but she continued : ' k Tell her 
 my dying charge was, that she should meet me in 
 heaven, with the child that I intrust to her care. 
 Will } r ou do me this favor, Miss Hastings?" 
 
 " I will, indeed," replied Esther ; " but do not fatigue 
 yourself to-night; I shall see you often again, and you 
 can then tell me all you would like me to do." 
 
 " Perhaps so," said Mrs. Williams, with a sad smile ; 
 " but we know not what a few hours may bring forth. 
 Let me bid you good-bye ;" and she wound her arms 
 around Esther's neck, exclaiming, " we shall meet 
 again in heaven." 
 
 " I hope so," replied Esther, in a voice tremulous 
 with emotion, " and I hope often again on earth." 
 
 Mrs. Williams shook her head. " I have often 
 thought," she said, " that those near death receive a 
 warning from the death-angel ; and it seems to me 
 that I have seen the last morning dawn on earth that 
 I shall ever behold." 
 
 Esther gently warned her not to give way to gloomy 
 fancies ; and, assuring her that she should come on the 
 next day to see her, bade her good afternoon. 
 
 "Good-bye," repeated her friend, " we shall not be 
 parted long." 
 
 Mrs. Williams' foreboding proved correct; for a 
 sudden change took place in the night, and before asy 
 of Mrs. Simpson's family could reach the house, in an-
 
 VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH. 87 
 
 swer to the half frantic summons of her husband, she 
 had breathed her last. 
 
 Esther's tears fell fast on the pallid brow of the 
 corpse, as she stood over her friend ; and there anew 
 she consecrated herself to the service of Christ, and 
 prayed that she might indeed meet the sainted one on 
 high. 
 
 Mr. "Williams' grief was almost overwhelming. He 
 was passionately attached to his gentle wife, and had 
 not, like her, learned where to seek true consolation. 
 He repulsed all who endeavored to offer sympathy, 
 and no persuasion could induce him to leave his wife. 
 
 "Dear Nelly!" he would murmur, and gaze with 
 dry eyes upon the sweet face of his loved one. 
 
 Many of the neighbors gathered around him, gazing 
 at him with compassion, not unmingled with surprise 
 and curiosity, for such grief as his was new to them. 
 They were accustomed to violent bursts of emotion, 
 but this unnatural calmness almost terrified them ; 
 and after striving in vain to induce him to seek rest, 
 several gathered together in a little group, shaking 
 their heads ominously, and predicting that he would 
 be crazy. 
 
 " The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away, 
 blessed be the name of the Lord," said a tall man, 
 entering the death-chamber, and laying his hand on 
 Mr. Williams' shoulder. 
 
 " It's Elder Rider," whispered Elvira, " I'm dread- 
 ful glad he's come. If ever there was a good man on 
 airth, he's one."
 
 88 KOW-A-DAY8. 
 
 Mr. "Williams looked up at thjs new comer, and, 
 pointing to his wife, said, " She was my all !" 
 
 " My son," began the Elder, in a deep, firm voice, 
 " God has indeed come very near you, and laid his 
 hand heavily upon you ; but we should not mourn as 
 those without hope. I thank God that she was one 
 of the redeemed. I loved her," he continued, while 
 he hastily wiped away a tear, unwilling that any 
 should see his emotion, " I loved her as my own child ; 
 for," he added, " I trust that through my means she 
 was brought to give her heart to the Saviour." He 
 paused a few moments " Let us pray," said he ; and 
 kneeling there, he poured out his soul in prayer. 
 
 Never had Esther heard greater eloquence. His 
 whole soul seemed filled with love to God and man ; 
 and as he prayed for the bereaved ones, for the hus- 
 band, " from whose dwelling the sunshine of his wife's 
 smile, and the music of her voice, had been taken to 
 make heaven more bright, and to add to its melody," 
 and for the babe, " the living tie, which bound him 
 to the mother, who had gone before, and whose purity 
 and innocence it was his to preserve, that they might 
 meet the glorified one on high," Esther's eyes were 
 not the only one's in that room that -were wet with 
 tears, and Mr. "Williams wept like an infant.
 
 CHAPTEE Yin. 
 
 A BABBATH IN THE WILDERNESS. 
 
 IT was the calm and holy Sabbath, when all that 
 was mortal of Ellen Williams was intrusted to the 
 cold bosom of the mother earth. Many and sincere 
 were the mourners there for her gentleness and 
 sweetness had won her many friends ; and in so small 
 a community, the death of one of its members casts a 
 gloom over all, winch is not speedily dissipated. 
 
 From the grave they went to the school-house, 
 where Elder Rider was to preach. Though the house 
 was a log one, it was none the less comfortable. A 
 huge wood fire blazed upon the rock hearth, and its 
 crackling alone broke the silence as Esther entered, 
 and took her seat among the waiting assembly. The 
 elder was already there ; and, after a pause of a few 
 moments, rising, said, " Let us commence the worship 
 of God by singing, 
 
 ' Come, Holy Spirit, heavenly Dove.' " 
 
 Very few present had hymn-books, but this seemed 
 a familiar tune ; for, as the preacher's deep bass voice 
 commenced, he was joined by nearly all the audience. 
 The hymn being ended, he read a chapter in the
 
 90 NOW-A-BAYS. 
 
 Bible, explaining, in a familiar manner, anything 
 which he thought might not be understood by his 
 hearers. After this he said, " Let us unite in prayer." 
 All stood up ; and as his fervent supplications arose 
 to the Author of every good and perfect gift, many 
 voices joined him, ejaculating, " Lord, help !" " Hear, 
 Lord !" " Amen !" and the like : and as he prayed that 
 the solemn sight which they had just witnessed might 
 lead many of them to put their trust in the Redeemer, 
 that, like the departed, when the death-summons 
 came, they might obey willingly, and, like her, be 
 enabled to say, " Oh, grave, where is thy victory ? Oh, 
 death ! where is thy sting ?" many a sob was heard, 
 and many tears flowed over rough cheeks, all unused 
 to such a display of feeling. The prayer concluded, 
 they sung a familiar hymn, after which the elder, 
 rising, and saying, in a solemn tone, " Hear what God 
 the Lord saith," announced his text : " Because I 
 have called, and ye have refused ; I have stretched 
 out my hand, and no man regarded ; but ye have set 
 at naught all my counsel, and would none of my re- 
 proof; I also will laugh at your calamity, and mock 
 when your fear cometh." 
 
 " These words, which I have just read," said the 
 Elder, " show us both the justice and mercy of God. 
 1 Because I have called,' he hath said ; and has he 
 not called after us in times and ways without num- 
 ber ? Hath not his hand been ever open, giving bless- 
 ing innumerable ? Seed-time and harvest have not 
 failed, that your lives might be spared. Yea, even 
 your lives he is lengthening out, while you are still
 
 A SABBATH IN THE WILDERNESS. 91 
 
 living regardless of him, as if there were no God. 
 And when he hath found, that his constant kindness 
 hath failed to make you give your hearts to him, then 
 hath he drawn near, and laid his chastening hand 
 upon you. He who hath said that he doth ' not will- 
 ingly afflict the children of men,' He hath taken now 
 from one, the child of his love, and from another, the 
 wife of his bosom, and still you have refused to listen, 
 or have murmured, and raised your puny arm in re- 
 bellion against the Most High. 'Who are ye, that 
 ye should contend with the Almighty ? He that re- 
 proveth God, let him answer it.' But, oh, my breth- 
 ren, God hath done yet greater things for us, whereof 
 we are glad," continued the Elder; and his deep voice 
 was choked with emotion, as he told of Christ's com- 
 ing, and of his pure life on earth. 
 
 He dwelt on his miracles, and pictured, while his 
 hearers listened with breathless attention, the scene 
 of the restoration of life to the son of the widow of 
 JSTain, and the opening the eyes of the blind. Then, 
 after a pause, he went on : " And how did sinful men 
 receive this spotless Saviour? Methinks I hear, even 
 now, the cry, 'Crucify him! crucify him!'" Then 
 followed a glowing description of Christ's agony in 
 the garden of Gethsemane, of his trial, and, finally, 
 of his crucifixion on Mount Calvary. Groans and 
 sobs were heard ; and as he pronounced the last words 
 of Jesus, " Father, forgive them, for they know not 
 what they do !" Esther's eyes, too, filled with tears. 
 
 " And ye, too, are daily crucifying the Lord afresh," 
 continued the preacher., <" Ye, too, are rejecting the
 
 92 NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 holy and just One. And if God's mercy doth not 
 move your hard hearts, hear now of his terrible jus- 
 tice." 
 
 Then followed a stern warning to flee from the 
 wrath to come. The scene of the last judgment was 
 portrayed with a masterly hand, and the preacher 
 concluded : " ' To-day, if ye will hear his voice, harden 
 not your hearts,' lest he * also laugh at your calamity 
 and mock when your fear cometh.' " 
 
 The Elder then sat down, first saying, "There's lib- 
 erty, brethren !" There was a short pause, when a 
 tall man got up and remarked that he " could witness 
 to the truth of what had been said. Every word on 
 it's truth," he went on. " Gospel truth, and I hope 
 that the truth that we have heered this day with our 
 outward ears, will sink deep into our hearts, and take 
 root downward, and bear fruit upward, to the glory 
 of God." 
 
 " Amen," said many, as he sat down. He was suc- 
 ceeded by another, who said nearly the same thing, 
 though in diiFerent words. 
 
 But the people, who had listened very attentively 
 to Elder Eider, now seemed restless, and twisted un- 
 easily in their seats. A baby who had been asleep 
 awoke and cried lustily. Its mother's efforts to quiet 
 it proving unavailing, she rose and hurried out of the 
 room. 
 
 After the last speaker had ended, the Elder offered 
 a brief prayer and dismissed the assembly, first an- 
 nouncing that after a short intermission there would
 
 A, SABBATH IN THE WILDERNESS. 93 
 
 be a conference meeting, which he hoped would be 
 fully attended. 
 
 Most of the people now dispersed, with the excep- 
 tion of a few families who had brought their dinners, 
 as they lived too far from the school-house to return 
 to their homes at noon, and were soon gathered in 
 little knots, talking of various matters with their 
 neighbors. Some, however, went home with Mrs. 
 Simpson, who, living quite near, extended a cordial 
 invitation to them to dine with her. 
 
 Esther walked slowly home, thinking of the power 
 of the preacher, of how often she had heard these 
 familiar truths, and wondered that she had listened to 
 them unmoved, as she had so frequently. "After all," 
 thought she, " the secret of his eloquence lies in his 
 earnestness." 
 
 On entering Mrs. Simpson's front room, she found 
 Elder Kider there. He immediately began to ask 
 her how she succeeded in her sabbath-school, and 
 proposed that it should not be postponed, as Esther 
 had intended. 
 
 " I want to see how you manage, my sister," said 
 he. It was therefore arranged that it should be held 
 directly after the conference meeting.
 
 CHAPTEE IX. 
 
 THE CONFERENCE. 
 
 THERE was quite a crowd around the large fireplace, 
 as Esther and Elvira entered the school-room after 
 dinner, at the appointed time for the meeting. 
 
 " There's Miss Haley," said Elvira. " She don't git 
 out often ; she wa'nt here this mornin', but you alus 
 see her to conference. Old Miss Springer, too, I de- 
 clare ; but there's the Elder." 
 
 As he entered, there was a general rush for the 
 seats. After a prayer, Elder Rider read a chapter in 
 the Bible and made a few remarks, after which he 
 said he " hoped to hear from every one present who 
 had named the name of Christ, and that all would 
 remember that whoever ' shall deny' Christ l before 
 men, him, he will also deny before his father which is 
 in heaven.' He himself hath said it." - 
 
 He then sat down, saying he " should like to hear 
 from the sisters first." 
 
 There was quite a pause. 
 
 " Let there be liberty !" said the Elder, and as no 
 one rose, he added, " Quench not the spirit !" 
 
 Suddenly a woman rose, and turning her face 
 toward the wall, began to speak.
 
 THE COXFEREKCE. 95 
 
 " That's Miss Haley," whispered Elvira. 
 
 Esther listened attentively, but could hear nothing 
 that she said except " Lord," "heart," "soul," "feel- 
 ings," and the like disconnected words, as Mrs. Haley 
 spoke in a very low tone, quite hurriedly, and shed 
 tears during all the time that she was speaking. 
 
 As soon as she sat down, old Mrs. Springer rose. 
 She spoke very loudly, saying : " I hope I haint 
 ashamed of Jesus. I hev been a follower of the Lamb 
 nigh about forty year. Though I know that I hev 
 often followed him afar off. I hev been a soldier of 
 the cross just as long as the children of Israel was in 
 the wilderness, and like them sinful creeturs, I hev 
 often murmured and hankered arter the flesh pots of 
 Egypt, and it is of God's mercy that I haint been cut 
 down, and never see the land of Canaan. But now I 
 do hope to enter the blessed land of promise. I hev 
 hed some precious seasons, when my heart has been 
 filled with the presence of the Lord. 
 
 " And oh, my brethren and sisters, why isn't it alus 
 so ? Why are we settin' by the cold streams of Baby- 
 lon when we might so easy git into a more wealthy 
 place. Arise and shine ! Let us not have a name to 
 live and be dead ! Oh ! my friends, let us come 
 humble to the foot of the cross, and confess our sins 
 and ask God to give us a blessin'. Oh ! that he would 
 open the windows of heaven and pour down a blessin', 
 so that we might not be able to contain it !" 
 
 She took her seat amid many an audible token of 
 approval. A man now arose, and after a deep ahem, 
 commenced : " My friends, I feel as ef aheui. My
 
 96 NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 friends, I feel as ef" here he paused and spit upon 
 the floor. "I feel as ef the Lord was very near to 
 me ahem. I feel as ef I alus wanted him to be very 
 near to me, and I think, ef I know my own heart, that I 
 feel anxious fur a revival ahem. I feel as ef I must 
 see some of the outpourings of the Spirit here. I 
 feel as ef we had said * peace ! peace !' when there 
 was no peace ; and I feel as ef we had forgotten the 
 God of our salvation, and I hope we shall all feel like 
 goin' for'ard and doin' our duty, and alus do with our 
 might what our hands find to do." 
 
 A short pause ensued after he had concluded, upon 
 which Elder Eider observed that he hoped " no time 
 would be wasted." 
 
 A tall, spare woman now addressed them, saying 
 " I hope I feel thankful fur another opportunity of 
 meetin' my Christian friends. I think 1 can say that 
 the conference room is alus a pleasant place to me. 
 I think I can say that the language of Canaan is what 
 I delight to hear. Yes, my dear friends, I think I 
 can say ' Your people are my people, and your God 
 my God.' Oh my friends. I wouldn't go back to the 
 world fur nuthin. I hed ruther ' be a doorkeeper in 
 the house of my God than to dwell in the tents of 
 wickedness.' I feel a union with all the church, and 
 I hope you will all pray for me." 
 
 After she had seated herself, a man got up, remark- 
 ing, " I don't know as I hev got anything to say that 
 will edify any body. I wisht I coiild say that I hed hed 
 any of those precious seasons that some of my Chris- 
 tian friends has spoke on, but I hev not. I feel that I
 
 THE CONFKKENCE. 97 
 
 can say ' Oh that it were with me as in months past, 
 when the candle of the Lord shone round about me.' 
 I don't know as I hev much to say, except that it 
 makes my heart glad to hear from my Christian 
 friends, and I hope that they will pray for me that I 
 may be made partaker of their joys." 
 
 Immediately on his seating himself, a short, but 
 stoutly built man succeeded him. He began " My 
 friends, Ihev'just come home from Patten, and they 
 are hevin' a revival of God's work among them. Their 
 hearts are filled with the love of God, and the Holy 
 Spirit seems pouring out his blessings in abundant 
 showers. I went to their meetins, and it made my 
 heart leap for joy, to see Christians filled with the 
 love of God and pointin' out to anxious inquirin' sin- 
 ners the way to Jesus. But oh ! it makes me feel sad 
 to find all so dead and cold here. ' Why should the 
 children of a king go mournin' all their days ?' Why 
 are we passed over ? I am afeard it is because we do 
 not put ourselves in the way of it. Too many on us 
 is took up with the follies and vanities of this world. 
 Too many on us is only stumblin' blocks in the way 
 of sinners. Too many on us is like dumb dogs. My 
 brethren and sisters, these things ought not so to be. 
 Oh ! that the Lord would draw nigh to ' this vine 
 which he has planted in the wilderness,' that this 
 branch of his Zion might be lifted up. Oh my breth- 
 ren and sisters, let us be livin' ' epistles, known and 
 read of all men.' Let us humble ourselves, and the 
 Lord will lift us up. Let us so live that men ' may 
 5
 
 98 NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 take knowledge of us, that we have been with 
 Jesus.' " 
 
 Elder Rider rose as Mr. Haley sat down, and said 
 that it was nearly time to close the meeting. He 
 made a few remarks of encouragement to those who 
 seemed depressed, and pointed all to that never-failing 
 fountain set open for sin and uncleanness. His earn- 
 est words were received with audible tokens of ap- 
 proval, as had been frequently the case during the 
 remarks of the other speakers, " bless the Lord" and 
 "Amen" being the expressions most in use. After 
 this they sung a hymn, commencing 
 
 " What ship is this you see, that is DOW sailing by ? 
 
 Ob, glory, hallelujah ! 
 What ship is this you see, that comes sailing by t 
 
 Oh, glory, hallelujah ! 
 Tis the old ship of Zion, hallelujah ! 
 Tis the old ship of Zion, hallelujah !" 
 
 All joined in this, one or two of the old ladies sing- 
 ing a most indescribable part, called counter, which 
 did not seem to have anything in common with the 
 tune. The discord, however, did not seem to disturb 
 any one. On the conclusion of the hymn, the meet- 
 ing was closed by a prayer offered by the Elder, and 
 the good people scattered slowly, talking with their 
 friends who lived at a distance, and expressing their 
 pleasure in the meeting. 
 
 The Sabbath school was now called to order, a d 
 Mr. Rider expressed himself well pleased with the 
 progress of the pupils, and with the evident interest 
 which they manifested. As it began to grow dark, 
 there was but a short session, however.
 
 THE CONFERENCE. Vy 
 
 " Elder Eider's a blessed man!" remarked Elvira, 
 as, with Esther, she walked homeward, after the Sab- 
 bath school was over. 
 
 " I should think he was calculated to do a great 
 deal of good," replied Esther. " But, Elvira," she 
 continued, " how is it that so many responded aloud 
 this afternoon, since this is a Baptist church? I 
 thought only Methodists made use of such expressions 
 as ' Hear, Lord,' and the like." 
 
 " Wall," answered Vira, " you see most of the folks 
 here is Baptists, but some on um is Methodists, and a 
 few on um Free-Willers, and Christian Banders ; but 
 bein as there is so many more Baptists, they got up 
 the church. Some of the others jined, and some 
 didn't ; but they all go to the same meetins, and the 
 Methodists and the rest keeps their own ways." 
 
 " The meeting this afternoon was a very interesting 
 one," said Esther, after a pause. 
 
 " Wall, yes," replied Yira ; " but then they alus 
 say pooty much the same things. There's Haley, now. 
 I alus know jist how he feels, jist as well afore he gits 
 up, as I do when he sets down." 
 
 " Ah, Elvira," said Esther, " you should not speak 
 so. I wish you were as truly a Christian as Mr. 
 Haly," 
 
 " Wall, as to that," retorted Yira, " I know I haint 
 so good as I had orter be, but I don't want to swop 
 hearts with none on um. I might get a wus one 
 than mine, and that's needless." 
 
 " No, Elvira, you need not wish to exchange hearts 
 with any one ; but you do need to give yourself to the
 
 100 NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 Saviour. There is a day coming when you will feel 
 the need of a friend to guide you through the dark 
 valley of the shadow of death, that you may fear no 
 evil. Oh, Elvira," continued Esther, " will you not 
 try to become a Christian ?" 
 
 Elvira made no reply, but walked along silently. 
 At last she broke out, " Don't think I'm mad with 
 you, Miss Hastings, I haint; but I don't like to be 
 talked to about religion by no body. I never listen 
 to nobody but you, and I do mean to get religion 
 some time or nuther." 
 
 Esther was about to reply, but Elvira had left her 
 side, crossed the road, and was talking to one of her 
 friends.
 
 CHAPTEK X. 
 
 THE CAMP. 
 
 THE weeks passed rapidly away with Esther ; and 
 though sometimes she wearied of her school duties, 
 and longed for more congenial society, still she did 
 not regret the step which she had taken. She felt 
 keenly the loss of Mrs. Williams, in whom she had 
 found sympathy, and whose cheerful spirit had made 
 her ashamed of her occasional fits of depression. She 
 heard sometimes from Margaret, though the mails 
 were unfrequent, and she could not receive letters so 
 often as she wished. 
 
 She had just finished reading an old letter, for the 
 twentieth time, and was now sitting on a low seat, by 
 the fire, indulging in a pleasant reverie. She was 
 just querying how she should spend her day, as it 
 was Saturday, and a holiday, when she was startled 
 by a rough voice 
 
 " Mornin, Miss Hastings, whar's Miss Simpson?" 
 " Take a seat," said Esther, " and I will see." 
 The speaker, a man whose huge frame corresponded 
 well with his loud voice, complied, and Esther left 
 the room in search of Mrs. Simpson. 
 
 She found the good lady out feeding her pigs, with
 
 102 NOW-A-DAY8. 
 
 a huge kettle of boiled potatoes, and they speedily 
 reentered the front room. 
 
 " How are ye, Miss Simpson ?" asked the stranger, 
 as they entered. 
 
 " Wall, as usual," she replied, and a pause ensued, 
 while Mrs. Simpson waited to hear what was his 
 errand. 
 
 " "Wall," said he, at length, while the sputtering of 
 the fire greeted the snow which he scraped from his 
 foot upon the andiron, " Wall, I've come to see if you 
 wouldn't go out to our camp. One uv our men is 
 dreadful sick ; he's got the rheurnatiz, I guess. He 
 was tuk out of his head last night, and keeps hollerin 
 arter his mother, and we thought p'raps he'd better 
 be brung out here. Ye see, he can't hev no great 
 care out thar ; and, p'raps, ef he see wimmen round, 
 he might be easier. We knowed you was considera- 
 ble of a doctor, and thought, if you could see him, 
 you could tell whether or no he had better be fetched 
 out. I've got a horse-sled here ; and ef you'll bundle 
 up warm, and go, I'll take you out in less than no 
 time." 
 
 " Wall," replied Mrs. Simpson, " I'll go ; and ef you 
 will, Miss Hastings, I should like to hev you go too." 
 
 Esther readily consented, and they were soon on 
 their way. "So this is a logging road," thought 
 Esther, as they entered a narrow opening, and she 
 saw a winding road, whose smooth polished surface 
 extended far ahead. The evergreens on each side 
 gave it a cheerful aspect, and the bright sun almost 
 blinded her, as she looked on the snowy pathway. In
 
 THE CAMP. 103 
 
 a short time they reached the camp, which was a log 
 building, some eight feet in height in front, but slop- 
 ing down to some three or four feet in the rear. The 
 roof was covered with shingles, which were confined 
 in their places by poles laid across them. The spaces 
 between the logs were made tight by moss. There 
 was another similar building, though somewhat larger, 
 standing near, which was an ox hovel, Esther was in- 
 formed, a shelter for the cattle, as its name indicated. 
 At a little distance was a temporary shed, used for 
 the storing of hay and provisions. They entered 
 the camp, which their guide said was a double one. 
 A large fire was blazing in the centre of the apart- 
 ment ; the huge logs were placed merely on stones, 
 and it seemed to Esther that there was great danger 
 of its setting fire to the camp. This, however, she 
 was told was not common. A smoke-hole was left 
 open at the top of the camp, and from this was sus- 
 pended a piece of wire, which supported a kettle over 
 the fire. Shelves were nailed at one end of the apart- 
 ment, upon which a few dishes, plates, tin dippers, and 
 similar articles, were neatly arranged. The opposite 
 end of the room was occupied with hemlock and cedar 
 boughs, the beds of the lumbermen ; a small pole laid 
 at the end of these primitive beds, some four or six 
 feet from the fire, and over this pole a seat, called the 
 deacon-seat, was built, upon which the cook, a stout 
 burly-looking man, requested Esther to seat herself. 
 A few stools, which bore the stamp of home manufac- 
 ture, composed the rest of the furniture.
 
 104 NOW-A-DAT8. 
 
 Mrs. Simpson, meanwhile, approached the sick 
 man, who was groaning as if suffering great pain. 
 
 "It's the acute rheumatiz," said she, "and I think 
 he'd better be got out to our house as soon as ever we 
 can do it. We can nuss him up thar." 
 
 The delirious symptoms had apparently left him, 
 and he gladly assented to Mrs. Simpson's proposition. 
 
 While they warmed themselves at the huge fire, for 
 they were nearly chilled through, Esther watched, 
 with some curiosity, the movements of the cook. He 
 had already set his table, and now, approaching the 
 fire, began to unearth something, which was com- 
 pletely buried in the ashes. It proved to be a large 
 iron vessel, closely covered, which, she was informed, 
 was a Dutch oven, and whose smoking hot contents 
 (baked beans) really looked quite inviting. They re- 
 ceived a cordial invitation to " stop and git a bite," 
 but declined, as Mrs. Simpson was anxious to get her 
 patient into more comfortable quarters. She accord- 
 ingly ordered the quilts and comforters, which she 
 had brought for that purpose, to be arranged on the 
 sled ; and several of his companions, lifting the sick 
 man with gentleness (though even their utmost care 
 could not prevent him from suffering great pain at 
 the removal), placed him on the sled, w r ell wrapped 
 up and protected from the cold. The motion of the 
 sled over the smooth ground was so easy, that it did 
 not seem to disturb him much ; he fell into an uneasy 
 sleep, and but little was said by any one. 
 
 Suddenly the}' heard a creaking, groaning sound, 
 and soon saw, emerging from a branch road, the cause
 
 THE CAMP. 105 
 
 of the noise. A bob-sled, drawn slowly by six or 
 eight oxen, to which a huge pine log was fastened, 
 and which groaned and creaked, as if it had forebod- 
 ings of its future fate, so poetically described by "Whit- 
 tier 
 
 " Down, the -wild March flood shall bear them 
 
 To the saw-mill's wfyeel, 
 Or where steam, the slave, shall tear them 
 
 With his teeth of steel" 
 
 The log was partly stripped of its bark, as it had 
 been hewn from that part of it which was drawn along 
 on the snow ; it was fastened by chains, whose rattling, 
 with the loud cries of the teamster to his oxen, re- 
 sounded through the forest. 
 
 They had hardly got out of hearing of the team, 
 when a loud report caused Esther to start, exclaiming, 
 in some alarm " What is that ?" 
 
 " Wall," replied the driver, transferring his quid of 
 tobacco from one cheek to the other, " that's the logs 
 rollin' down the sides of a mounting. They're takin 1 
 out timber on a ridge whar they can't haul urn down 
 it's too steep and so they haul um to the aidge of 
 the hill, and let um drive makes a thunderin' loud 
 crash, don't it, you ? I like to see um go, I tell ye 
 but they look the pootiest on a dry sluice-way " 
 
 " What is that ?" asked Esther. 
 
 " Wall, that's whar the timber is in a steep place, 
 too, and we lay logs down, so as not to let the pines 
 roll off, and start um along." 
 
 "You make an inclined plane, I suppose," said 
 Esther. 
 
 5*
 
 106 NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 "Oh, no; we don't plane the sluice-way, 'taint 
 made o' boards," returned her companion, " straight 
 logs is what we make it on, and I tell ye, it goes 
 swift ; the bark and smoke flies well, and it drives 
 ahead like blazes, and drives head foremost into the 
 snow, at the fut of the hill." 
 
 " I should think it would be rather dreary in the 
 woods, in winter," said Esther. 
 
 " Wall, it taint the work is hard, but we like it, 
 and when it comes night, we spin yarns, sing songs, 
 and play ceards but our boss don't want no ceard- 
 playin' in the camp, this winter, and so we gin it up. 
 Sunday's rather a long day ; but we mend our close, 
 and some on us reads, and some on us goes a gunnin' 
 and some on us goes a visitin' to the nighest camp 
 we lay abed pooty late, too, and so we manage to 
 wear it off ; but I'm allus glad when it comes Monday 
 agin." 
 
 " Do you ever drive logs down river ?" asked Es- 
 ther, after a pause. 
 
 " Lord, yes indeed ! and that's jist one o' the things 
 that I like fust-rate. 'Taint allus so pooty fun to git 
 the logs out when they git in a jam, but, somehow or 
 anuther, I like it, arter all ; its rayther exciting " 
 
 " And dangerous, too, isn't it ?" interrupted Esther. 
 
 " Wall, I s'pose they is danger yes, I've knowed 
 many a fust-rate feller to git his death on the river. 
 Tha* was Tom Davis, as jolly a soul as ever I see in a 
 camp. He was in the same drive with me last winter, 
 and when we come to drive down the logs, they got 
 into a jam at Slugundy Falls. We hed worked there
 
 THE CAMP. 107 
 
 a day, and it was a pooty sight, I tell you, to see them 
 master great logs piled up every which way, and the 
 water dashin' through like lightnin' Tom see a log 
 that he thought if he chopped in two, would let the 
 jam start, and he tuk an axe, and went at it. He 
 hadn't struck more'n three blows, when all on a sud- 
 dent, the jam started. Tom, he started to run, but 
 'twan't no use ; them great logs whirled round like 
 straws, and snapped like splinters, and the water 
 roared so, you could a heerd it miles. Poor Tom 
 was drownded, and when we got him out, he was 
 tore and bruised dreadful bad; his own mother 
 wouldn't a knowed him. We buried the poor feller, 
 and nobody knows whose turn will come next. 
 Whoahoa !" he called out to his horse, as they stop- 
 ped at Mrs. Simpson's door. 
 
 Mr. Simpson, who was at the other side of the 
 road, sitting on a horse, as it is called, shaving shin- 
 gles, approached, and with the assistance of one or 
 two of the neighbors, bore the sick man into the 
 house, and placed him in bed. 
 
 " I s'pose they hain't work enough to be done al- 
 ready, in this house," said Elvira, as Esther entered 
 the kitchen, " and so Miss Simpson has gone and 
 fetched a sick man fur me to wait upon." 
 " He ought to be taken care of," said Esther. 
 " Wall, of cose ;. I haint a fool ; I know that, but 
 why on airth didn't some o' the neighbors take him ?" 
 " Mrs. Simpson is so good a nurse, and you can help 
 her, too, so well, I suppose they thought he could be 
 better taken care of here," replied Miss Hastings.
 
 108 NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 " Wall, I s'pose it can't be helped," returned Elvira, 
 somewhat mollified, " but she might hev jist named 
 it to me." 
 
 " She went away in a great hurry," said Esther. 
 
 " Wall, it's all over, now," continued Elvira, " and 
 what can't be cured, must be endured." 
 
 After this little ebullition was over, Elvira hastened 
 to offer her assistance, and through the long and 
 tedious illness of the sick man, watched over him with 
 untiring patience and care. Esther, too, as often as 
 her school duties would allow, offered her services, 
 and the invalid was slowly recovering.
 
 CHAPTEK XI. 
 
 AN EVENING WITH THE LUMBERMEN. 
 
 IT was terribly cold out of doors ; one of those still, 
 freezing nights, that does so much greater execution 
 than the wild and blustering ones ; just as a self- 
 wilted, though quiet man can effect so much more 
 tharnhi.impetuous, but unsteady one. 
 
 But tne cold did not penetrate into the camp, 
 where it stood surrounded by snow-covered stumps 
 and trees, whose evergreen hue contrasted well with 
 the white surface around them ; the clear moon 
 lighted up with a silvery tinge their boughs, laden with 
 feathery flakes, for there had been a violent storm, 
 and the snow had not yet fallen from the branches. 
 
 It was not a night which would tempt one out of 
 doors, but within the log-camp all was light and 
 cheerful. 
 
 The men, having had their suppers, were gathered 
 round the blazing fire, some sitting on the deacon 
 seat, others on stools, in different parts of the room. 
 A rough, but manly-looking set were they! Dressed 
 in their somewhat picturesque costume of red flannel 
 shirt, and a pair of pantaloons, their vigorous forms 
 unfettered by suspenders, or anything binding, they
 
 110 NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 looked well fitted to be the pioneers of civilization 
 well suited to their work in the free, broad forests 
 each looked every inch a man. The voices of most 
 of them were deep and clear, like the ring of their 
 own axes on the stout pines, and nearly all had shrewd 
 and intelligent faces, that fitted well with their pow- 
 erful and muscular frames. Many of them were 
 smoking, but the greater number were chewing 
 tobacco. They were talking cheerfully together on 
 various subjects. 
 
 " Talk about trees !" exclaimed an athletic fellow, 
 rather below the middle height, emitting a whiff of 
 tobacco smoke from his nostrils, as he took his pipe 
 from his mouth, " that haint a sarcumstance to one 
 that Bob Sykes and I felled last winter. Why, it 
 scaled nine thousand feet a pumpkin pine, none of 
 your conkusy stuff clear as a ten-foot snow-drift in 
 the middle " 
 
 " Caan't you make it ten, Bill, so's to make it even 
 numbers?" asked a tall, fine-looking fellow, in a tone 
 that indicated some little doubt of the truth of the 
 last speaker's story. " Neow dew, jist to acommo- 
 date!" 
 
 "It's true, as I hope to holler, Tompkins," replied 
 Bill, " I'll take my Bible oath on't," 
 
 " Oh, I haint no sort o' doubt on't," replied Tomp- 
 kins, " fur I see a tree onct that scaled twelve thou- 
 sand 
 
 "Phew!" interrupted Bill; but Tompkins pro- 
 ceeded, " and Sam Slocum and I chopped that are 
 down in less than an hour ; to be sure he was a d d
 
 AN EVENING WITH THE LUMBERMEN. Ill 
 
 smart chopper, and if I dew say it myself, I'm 
 some" 
 
 " Eayther smart, ^ should say. Neow, what's the 
 use o' lyin' !" exclaimed Bill, as a loud shout from all 
 present, indicated that the object of this extravagant 
 story was appreciated, " but if you dew lie, 'taint no 
 sign that everybuddy else does. Talk about choppers ! 
 I've seen Sam Slocum." 
 
 " Then you've seen a devilish smart feller." 
 
 " He's wall enuf, but he haint a primin' to Bob 
 Sykes." 
 
 " Neow, git eout with your long yarns, and all-fired 
 stories," interrupted Tompkins. 
 
 " Tell as big a one as I'm a mind teu, you allus 
 beat it," rejoined Bill, " but that's coz I stick teu the 
 truth, and yeou draw on your imagination, and there's 
 a never-failin' spring thar, I swan to man." 
 
 " Bill, you must do as the Yankee that went to 
 New York did," said a man who had been reading a 
 newspaper, and who had not before taken part in the 
 conversation. 
 
 " How was that, Clark ?" 
 
 " Got a patent right for lyin', I s'pose," exclaimed 
 Tompkins. 
 
 " No," sajd Clark, " he advertised that he'd got the 
 biggest oxen in the world. Somebody asked him 
 how much they measured. He straightened up in 
 his boots- six feet two, he stood in his stockings 
 and says he, ' Cetch me to tell that ! Guess I'm cuter 
 than that comes teu ! Ef I was to say one on um 
 girted twelve feet, some long Yankee or nnther would
 
 112 NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 be sayin' he'd got a pair that girted fourteen. Neon, 
 I say, I've got the biggest in the world ; if any 
 Yankee kin beat that, let him come on.' " 
 
 Bill did not appear at all dismayed at the hits of 
 his companions, for he was a notorious "bragger." 
 The story only diverted his attention to oxen, and he 
 began, " Wall, I hev seen some mighty pooty cattle 
 in my day." 
 
 " So hev I," interrupted John, the teamster, " but 
 I'll stump anybody to keep a team in better order, 
 and do more work with um than I kin with my crit- 
 ters; them's as likely cattle as ever was in these 
 diggins." 
 
 " Hosses is better than oxen, in the woods," said 
 Bill. 
 
 " Wall, neou, they haint, in my way of thinkin' ; 
 they may be spryer, but they haint got the wear to 
 um that oxen hev." 
 
 "Oh, wall," replied Bill, "use um up, and get 
 more, that's what I say." 
 
 " Neou, that's what I call abusin' God's creturs," 
 exclaimed the teamster, who, like many of his class, 
 would have infinitely preferred overtasking himself, 
 to his cattle. 
 
 " Wall," interrupted the newspaper reader, " if it 
 hurts your feelins so, to use up dumb cattle, what do 
 you say to some of them slave-holders, that do the 
 same to men and women ?" 
 
 " Oh, d n the niggers," replied John, " you're 
 
 allus luggin' them in ; can't you let one night go, 
 without goin' over that old story ?"
 
 AN EVENING WITH THE LUMBKRMEN. 113 
 
 " No, I can't, nor I won't," answered Clark, his 
 bronzed face lighting up, " when that infernal system 
 is being helped along by the votes of such men as we 
 are. when men with just such bodies and souls as we 
 have, are sold like brutes, separated from their fam- 
 ilies, and dragged the Lord only knows whare." 
 
 " Oh, be hanged to it ! It haint none of my busi- 
 ness ! I haint got nothin' to deu with it, nohow. I 
 don't buy um nor sell um, nor wouldn't hev nothin' 
 to deu with um, nohow yeou can fix it," said John. 
 
 " But you do support the system by voting for men 
 who do their best to extend it, by annexing Slave 
 States, and all such measures," replied Clark. 
 
 " Oh, I'm a democrat, dyed in the wool, and I go 
 fur the reg'lar nominee no splittin' fur me union 
 is strength ; and as to my vote, 'taint of no great 
 account here why, did you hear how Josh Emer- 
 son got 'lected ?" 
 
 " No I How was it ?" 
 
 " Why, he kept a kind of a shanty, where the lum 
 bermen stowed their supplies, and the 'lection was 
 thar, and between votin', they would liker up, you 
 see. Wall, they kep one man watchin the hat where 
 they threw their votes, but onct the feller left it and 
 kivered it up with a pocket handkercher. Wall, some- 
 buddy, unbeknownst, watched their chance, and when 
 the assessor got back, the hat was rammed full of 
 votes for Emerson. 'Oh, that's too devilish bad!' 
 says the assessor, so he put in his hand and took eout 
 a decent handful, and sez he, ' I guess that's about 
 right ; count the rest.' So Josh got in by a swampin'
 
 114 NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 majority. They sot out to contest his seat, but he 
 hed sich an awful majority that they gin it up. So, 
 one vote thar did't amount to much." 
 
 Tompkins squirted a vast amount of tobacco juice 
 from between his teeth into the fire with excellent 
 aim. "My opinion on slavery," said he, " is jist this 
 I ask, is it allowed in the Constitution ? Ef it is, I 
 go fur it, ef it 'taint I don't. Neou, I say it was ; 
 all the old patriots, great men like Washington and 
 Jefferson, understood that it was so. Neou, don't you 
 think yourself, Clark, that, notwithstandin' the word 
 slave haint mentioned in the Constitution, it was a 
 mutual understandin' that the South should keep their 
 slaves?" 
 
 " Wall, I might screw around that," replied Clark, 
 " but I'll come to the pint : I do think so, but I think 
 too, that it was looked upon as an evil by those men, 
 and as inconsistent with their views of a republic, 
 and they would hev been glad to hev got rid on't, but 
 they didn't know how ; they thought 'twould die out ; 
 they all said as much, and if the Constitution don't 
 condemn holding slaves, it taint for extendin' the 
 
 d d system, nuther, and I'm down on that, and, 
 
 furthermore, as to ketchin' their slaves that run away, 
 I'll be d d if I do sich dirty work as that." 
 
 " Wall, I'm with you thar," said Tompkins, " fur 
 I'll be hanged, if arter a feller has got pluck enuf to 
 run for his life and liberty, ef he shouldn't hev it fur 
 all of me. But the most of them slaves is lazy, shift- 
 less, cowardly dogs." 
 
 " Who wonders at it!" asked Clark, "I guess you'd
 
 AN EVENING WITH THE LUMBERMEN. 115 
 
 be lazy, ten, if you only got what you had to eat, and 
 drink, and wear fur your work, and not allus enuf of 
 that !" 
 
 " Oh, the devil ! There haint many of the slaves 
 treated that are way, and ef they was, that is all I 
 git for my work jist what I kin eat, drink, and wear 
 neou, ef I was rich, like some of these ere fellers 
 that live like pigs in clover, why then yeou might 
 talk ; but I'm a slave myself I hev to work like a 
 dog, and don't get no great pay." 
 
 " Pshaw ! you get good wages then, the work suits 
 you. Why, you'd rave like a tiger, to be shut up in a 
 store, measurin' tape, or sellin' barrels of flour, ef 
 you was a rich man. Rich men are slaves to their 
 money bags ; twistin', turnin', screwiii', plannin' to 
 make more, and keep what they've got. They haint 
 no happier than we are." 
 
 "Wall," said Tompkins, "I wouldn't object to 
 tryin my hand at it a spell, anyhow : wouldn't I cut 
 a dash!" 
 
 " I cum plaguey nigh bein' rich onct, myself," said 
 Bill. 
 
 " How was that ? A speculation ?" asked Clark. 
 
 " Not 'xactly," replied Bill. " Not the ushil kind 
 of speculation, though it was rayther in that line. 
 Ye see, I cum mighty near marryin' a rich gal, and 
 a pooty gal, teu." 
 
 " Well, what hindered you?" inquired Tompkins, 
 looking at Bill's huge and awkward frame, as if he 
 thought him better suited to any character than that 
 of a lady's man.
 
 116 NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 " Why, ye see, I got acquainted with a gal of that 
 kind, and arter stayin' around a spell, and doin' up 
 the courtin' a leetle, I cum to the pint I axed her ef 
 she'd hev me sez she, ' I'd rather be excused,' and I, 
 like a d d fool, excused her." 
 
 A roar of laughter greeted Bill's brief account of 
 his love-affair, and the conversation turned on the 
 beauty of women. 
 
 " Wall, neou, that's a pooty gal eout to Simpson's ; 
 that are schoolmarm, that was eout here yesterday 
 with the old 'ooman," said Tompkins, " she's a trig- 
 built, good-lookin' gal; got a dreadful pooty foot, 
 ten." 
 
 " Wall, I don't say but what she hez," said a man 
 who had not taken much interest in the previous con- 
 versation, " but I've seen dreadful many enuf sight 
 pootier than her. She caan't hold a candle to a gal 
 that I know on. That are gal is as straight as a pine 
 tree, and her skin and teeth is as white as the heart 
 of one, and jist the pootiest pair of eyes that ever you 
 did see ; as smart as a steel trap, teu, she is, I tell ye." 
 
 " Oh, git eout !" exclaimed. John, the teamster, 
 " the wimmin is jist like colts : look dredful pooty 
 and frisky in the fields, loose ; but the devil and ail 
 in harness. Take my adwice : don't hev nothin' to do 
 with um ! Let um alone ! Don't hitch yourself to 
 none on um !" 
 
 " Break urn in ! break um in !" said Tompkins. 
 " Them frisky ones is jist the best kind, ef ye only 
 keep a taut rein on um." 
 
 " 'Taint so easy doin' on't," replied John, shaking
 
 AN EVENING WITH THE LUMBERMEN. 117 
 
 his head, sorrowfully ; " they're the head-strongest 
 jades ! They'll take the bits right into their teeth, and 
 off they go, and ef you holler whoa ever so much, 
 they'll kick up their heels the more, and tear off the 
 Lord only knows whar." 
 
 " I guess John speaks from experience," said Clark. 
 
 " Wall, I don't say but what I deu. When it cums 
 to breakin' in critters, horse or ox, I won't giv in to 
 nobody ; but ef anybuddy kin head off, my old woman, 
 when she's got sot a sartin \vay, I'll giv in beat, fur 
 he kin deu more than I kin." 
 
 John settled back in his seat, whistling in true 
 Yankee fashion, while he whittled out a goad stick. 
 A man near him, was fitting a handle to an axe, as 
 the original one had been broken ; he felt the keen 
 edge, and looked at the polished steel with no little 
 pride. " Neon, that are, is what I call a good axe," 
 said he, " though 'taint quite ekil to one I had onct 
 I don't like braggin, but I will say, give me that are 
 axe, and I'll agree to take the heart of any tree from 
 any man, I don't kear who he is." 
 
 " Wall," replied Bill, " 'taint so much the axe, in 
 my way of thinkin', that makes the odds, as the man 
 that stands behind it ; though tools does a good deal, 
 arter all." 
 
 " That are axe 1 was speakin' on," continued the 
 first speaker, "is layin in the Penobscot, I 'spect, 
 there to Passadunky; that's an all-fired place fur 
 jams. Did you ever drive, on that are river?" 
 
 " Wall, I rayther guess I hev," was the reply, " and 
 T guess I've worked some getting off jams thar. It's
 
 118 NOW-A-DAYS.. 
 
 a ugly lookin' sight, enuf to make a saint swear, to 
 see them logs pile up every way ; standin' up straight, 
 in the air, and the water tizziii' through like a mill- 
 tail, frothin' and roarin'. 'Taint so pooty fun, nuther, 
 to stand up to your waist in stun cold water, workin' 
 and pryin' them are logs till you don't know whether 
 you've got any legs or not." 
 
 " Wall", that haint so pooty," said his companion, 
 " but I like river-drivin', howsomever ; it's lively-like, 
 and I allus like to strike the blow that starts the jam ; 
 but I cum mighty nigh loosin' my life, that time that 
 I lost my axe ; I thought then, sure enuf that I was a 
 goner. I hedn't gin but one blow, when snap, crack 
 went the log that hung up the jam, and all the rest 
 came whirlin' and rushin' ahead, eend over eend, 
 some on um snappin' like pipe-stems. I was master 
 sorry to lose that axe, but I gin it a fling and sprang 
 for my life. I've seen many a jam, but that was the 
 beaturnest. There was ten acres of logs, and we hed 
 been to work most three days tryin' to get um off, 
 and ye see the water hed riz behind um mighty high, 
 so when they did go all of a suddent, it was som^ 
 I tell ye. I guess I made some mighty smart leaps 
 from one teeterin', whirlin', slippery log to another; 
 wall, none of the fellers ever expected to see me 
 ashore alive agin, and I was as much astonished as 
 they was, to git out safe. 'Twas a narrow squeak, 
 I tell ye. But I 'spect my time hedn't cum," he 
 concluded. 
 
 "River drivin' is the pootiest part of loggin', I 
 think," said one.
 
 AN EVENIG WITH THK LUMBERMEN, 119 
 
 " They haint npfl of work that suits me better," 
 said Tompkius. " It looks so good to see urn sailin' 
 along, clean out of sight ; and ef the jams is bad, why 
 I spose we should git tired of chasin' arter a drive, and 
 never havin' no variety. I never git used to a jam. 
 It alus makes me as lively as a cricket. I don't get 
 as mad as a March hare, like some of your fellers, if 
 they do happen to git hung up, that is, ef taint out of 
 all reason afore they start agin." 
 
 "Hark!" suddenly exclaimed Bill ; "Iheerd sleigh 
 bells ;" and almost before he had ceased speaking, the 
 rapid tread of ahorse, with the jingling of sleigh-bells, 
 was heard, and, with a loud whoop, the driver reined 
 up at the camp. 
 
 "That's Jim Gordon, I know," exclaimed Tomp- 
 kins, as the door opened, and a stout burly-looking 
 man entered. 
 
 " How d'ye do, boys?" he ejaculated, in a loud and 
 hearty tone, while John started out to take charge of 
 the horse. 
 
 " A pooty piece of horseflesh," said John to himself, 
 as he proceeded in his self-appointed task. 
 
 " I guess you've hed to travel some" he ejaculated, 
 as he saw that the animal, notwithstanding the intense 
 cold, was reeking with sweat. " Wall, now, he don't 
 know how to use a creetur. He must alus go like the 
 wind. I'd defy the devil himself to catch him, in a 
 fair race." 
 
 While John was thus soliloquizing, the new comer 
 (who was no less a person than the proprietor of the 
 logging operations), having somewhat refreshed him-
 
 120 NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 self bj a glass of brandy, v he took from a 
 
 pocket flask which he carried with him, and set the 
 cook to work to get him some supper) was edifying 
 all present by his cheerful jokes, and frank, bold man- 
 ners. 
 
 He was a man of the middle height, and quite stout, 
 even after taking off the huge buffalo coat in which 
 he was attired. He was perfectly straight, had a 
 good head, an abundance of light-brown bushy hair, 
 a fine forehead, quick, good-humored blue eyes, and a 
 firmly compressed mouth, to which his somewhat 
 prominent teeth gave a still more determined expres- 
 sion. He looked like a man whom no obstacle could 
 daunt, and such in truth he was. 
 
 He was famed, far and near, for his untiring energy, 
 whether it was in business or in pleasure. A perfect 
 Napoleon among lumbermen, the most independent 
 of all rules of society, rough and uncouth at times, yet 
 quite the gentleman when he chose ; the wildest and 
 merriest at a gander party ; the shrewdest and most 
 far-seeing in business transactions, ever ready to enter 
 into extensive speculating operations, and as untiring 
 in carrying them out ; courageous, frank, and merry, 
 he was the idol of his men, and ever greeted with de- 
 light, in the brief visits which he paid to the many 
 different berths and camps in his employ in the woods. 
 It seemed as if he had no idea of fatigue. He would 
 trp.vel all day, dance and carouse all night, and again, 
 with a clear head, start off in the morning, his loud 
 shout to his horse ringing out as he dashed off, at 
 headlong speed ; and as he talked himself to the ut-
 
 AN EVENING WITH THE LUMBERMEN. 121 
 
 most, so he expeftll those with whom he was con- 
 nected in any way to do also. 
 
 " PooV cold out, haint it, Colonel ?" said Clark, to 
 Gordon. 
 
 " Well, yes. The trees cracked and snapped like 
 pistols; but then we don't want warm weather this 
 time of year." 
 
 " When did you leave Bangor ?" 
 
 " Day before yesterday." 
 
 "You don't say you cum through in this last drivin' 
 storm !" 
 
 " Yes I do," replied the Colonel, "I never stopped 
 for the weather in my life yet, and I should like to 
 see the storm that would keep me in, when I wanted 
 to go anywhere." 
 
 " Wall, I shouldn't," replied Clark, laughing ; " I 
 believe you can stand rnore'n any other ten men, use 
 um one arter the other." 
 
 "I can eat as much as ten men to-night," replied 
 Gordon, drawing up to the well-supplied table, and 
 beginning to do ample justice to the smoking hot 
 viands placed there. 
 
 " How're you getting on, Clark ?" he asked (for 
 Clark was the boss of the camp.) " Find good tim- 
 ber here ?" 
 
 "Fust rate," was the reply. "I've found three 
 clear pines, that will bring fifteen hundred dollars for 
 masts, and lots that will scale five thousand ; A num- 
 ber 1 boards they'll make, too." 
 
 " Guess you'll make a good winter's work. Got a 
 good crew, havn't you ?"
 
 122 NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 ' Yes, but one on urn is sick^BKried out to Simp- 
 son's yesterday ; p'raps you knew it." 
 
 "Xo, I didn't stop to Simpson's; I'll call there to- 
 morrow. What's the matter with him?" 
 
 "Kheumatiz." 
 
 " That's bad ; sorry for him, sorry for him." Then 
 hastily turning from the table, he exclaimed, " Come, 
 come, boys, don't be so d d solemn. This aint a 
 Quaker meetin, is it? Come, give us a song." And 
 in a loud, and not, unmusical voice, he struck up a 
 song, in which all present joined. 
 
 " There, now ! that's the way. What's the use of 
 being so devilish stupid? Live while ye do live 
 that's my doctrine." 
 
 All present entered into his humor ; and when he 
 proposed that somebody should spin a yarn, there was 
 no lack of speakers. 
 
 At length he began to relate one of his own ad- 
 ventures in Kew York, " before he got his eye-teeth 
 cut," he said. 
 
 He had got into a mock auction, it appeared ; and 
 he described, in a most amusing way, his own verdant 
 appearance, and the manner in which he was cheated. 
 " But the laugh wasn't all on one side," he concluded, 
 " for when I saw what a d d set of scoundrels they 
 was, I jist pitched into um ; and the way I beat and 
 mauled um wasn't slow. I was pretty smart then, for 
 my dander was up, and they were cowards, like all 
 rascals. I didn't get my money back, but I got the 
 worth of it on them. It was strength against brains 
 then, and brains got the worst of it that time. I
 
 AN EVENING WITH THE LUMBERMEN. 123 
 
 bought experience^and a lot of galvanized watches, 
 pretty dear ; but, considerin' the drubbin' that was 
 thrown in, I felt pretty well satisfied with my side of 
 the trade." 
 
 After a few more stories had been told, interspersed 
 with boisterous songs, he declared that he would turn 
 in ; and, taking a blanket, he threw himself on the 
 hemlock boughs with his men, and was soon fast 
 
 Early in the morning he was again up, and ready 
 for a start, after having a long and private consulta- 
 tion on business with Clark, in whom he seemed to 
 place much confidence. 
 
 " There's been a survare here to scale the trees, to 
 get the stumpage," said Clark. 
 
 * "Well, I suppose he saw all the timber ?" 
 
 " Yes, he saw all that was necessary," replied Clark, 
 with a knowing wink ; " p'raps he might hev over- 
 looked a, few spots where it's yarded." 
 
 Gordon laughed. " Perhaps his eyes were a little 
 dazzled by something in the money line hey, Clark ?" 
 
 " Wall, now, I shouldn't wonder if they was. But, 
 then, they'll get all the stumpage that they orter hev. 
 Them land owners is a dreadful greedy set. Good 
 mornin', Colonel," he added, as Gordon sprang into 
 his sleigh. 
 
 " Good morning." And away, like an arrow, flew 
 the spirited horse, as if he well knew the character 
 of his owner. 
 
 " I tell you what," soliloquized Clark, looking after
 
 124 NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 him, " the colonel is a smart feller. He know's what 
 he's about ; and, fur all he's such a case on a spree, 
 and 'pears to care so little about making plans, that 
 are head of his'n does a plaguey sight of work, and 
 he keeps a sharp look out arter the main chance."
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 MORE ABOUT THE LUMBERMEN. 
 
 " How are, you Simpson ?" exclaimed Col. Gordon, 
 dashing np to the door of that worthy's house in his 
 usual whirlwind fashion and springing from his 
 sleigh. " All well here ?" 
 
 " Pooty well, Colonel, and glad to see you lookin' so 
 rugged. Walk in ! Walk in !" 
 
 Mr. Gordon obeyed, first spreading a buffalo over 
 his horse ; he was greeted by Mrs. Simpson with 
 every appearance of cordial welcome ; chucking El- 
 vira under the chin he complimented her on her good 
 looks, to which she replied, " oh, stop your nonsense !" 
 though it appeared not at all offensive to her. 
 
 " I hear you've got one of my men sick here." 
 
 "Yes," replied Mrs. Simpson, "he's some easier 
 now ; walk into t'other room and see him." 
 
 Gordon did as requested, and greeted the sick man 
 with a cheerful " How are ye, old boy ? Keep up a 
 good heart ! You'll come out right end up !" 
 
 ' The invalid smiled as he pressed the hand that was 
 extended to him, for there was something in the voice 
 of the speaker that cheered him at once.
 
 126 NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 " It makes it mighty bad for me, though, Colonel, 
 to be took right in the middle of the winter so." 
 
 " Have you any family ?" 
 
 " My mother," replied the sick man, " she's a wi- 
 dow," and tears rushed to his eyes. 
 
 Gordon saw at a glance what was passing in the 
 poor fellow's mind, that he was her only support, and 
 that his wages were needed to maintain her. 
 
 " Where did you say your mother lived ?" 
 
 " In Bradley." 
 
 " Oh yes, I know. She's a nice woman. You just 
 get somebody to send her this in a letter, as a kind of 
 a Christmas present from her friend Jim Gordon, 
 will you ?" he said, putting fifty dollars into the inva- 
 lid's hand. Then before he could' find words to ex- 
 press his thanks, away went_ the Colonel, and his 
 merry laugh was echoed from the next room. 
 
 Just then Esther came down from her chamber. 
 She was aware of the new arrival, for Mr. Gordon 
 had not only a particular faculty of making a noise 
 himself, but " of stirrin' every body all up in a heap," 
 as Mrs. Simpson expressed it, and from the sounds of 
 welcome, she had judged that some pretty important 
 personage had arrived. 
 
 "This is Miss Hastings, Col. Gordon," said Mrs. 
 Simpson as Esther entered the kitchen. 
 
 Mr. Gordon looked up, made a very polite bow, and 
 addressed her in a very gentlemanly manner on that 
 never failing topic the weather ; she replied briefly, 
 and then calling Sammy, told him it was time to get 
 ready for school.
 
 MOKE ABOUT THE - LUMBERMEN. 127 
 
 " Allow me to take you in my sleigh to your school 
 house," said Col. Gordon. 
 
 " Oil, it is quite unnecessary," was Esther's reply. 
 " It is not far from here ; I can very easily walk. I 
 am much obliged, but won't trouble you." 
 
 " But this light untrodden snow is very bad to walk 
 in. It's no trouble at all ; just get ready, and I'll 
 take you there." 
 
 " That'll be raal nice," said Mrs. Simpson as Esther 
 speedily attired herself and jumped into the sleigh. 
 
 Mr. Gordon managed to talk a great deal in the 
 few moments ride that ensued, and his frank but yet 
 gentlemanly manners pleased Esther much. 
 
 She thanked him as they parted and bade him good 
 bye, as she said she should not probably see him 
 again. 
 
 " Why ? Do you expect to spend two or three 
 days at your school house ?" 
 
 " Oh no ; but I supposed you only made a transient 
 call at Mrs. Simpson's." 
 
 " Well you needn't be in a hurry to say good bye 
 I have business here that may detain me," he said 
 as he turned away, lifted his cap, and was out of sight 
 in a moment. 
 
 " That man reminds me of a March wind," thought 
 Esther, " as bold and rough, yet stirring and invigora- 
 ting." 
 
 " Where did you pick up that little school marm?" 
 asked Mr. Gordon, as he entered Mrs. Simpson's 
 kitchen.
 
 128 NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 " Oh, she cum from Bangor, and a nice gal she is 
 tew. She's pooty, aint she ?" 
 
 " Yes ; she's as fresh as a rose. By Jove, she's got 
 handsome hair and teeth then what ejes she's got 
 and the way she steps off takes me. She's smart I 
 know. I'm going to know more of her," thought he, 
 as he lighted a cigar and walked out of the house. 
 
 At four o'clock again the frank, pleasant face of 
 Col. Gordon appeared at the school house. 
 
 He walked in very composedly, and informed 
 Esther that he had been sent by Mrs. Simpson to 
 bring her home, as that good lady was fearful that 
 she might take cold. 
 
 This was not strictly true, though Mi's. Simpson 
 had in fact assented to his suggestion that it would be 
 a good idea to go after her. 
 
 " I am much obliged," replied Esther, " but if you 
 would take a load of these little ones, who are not 
 very warmly dressed, to their homes, it would cer- 
 tainly oblige me far more." 
 
 Mr. Gordon laughed. He was not particularly 
 fond of children, and the idea of carrying a load of 
 them struck him as rather comical. 
 
 " Well, bundle in, young ones," - he said, " and 
 Miss Hastings, wait here till 1 come back ;" and off 
 he started with children all around him and boys 
 hanging on to the runners, shouting merrily. 
 
 He was back again in an incredibly short time, and 
 as he handed Esther into the sleigh, he said, " Now, 
 didn't I obey you nicely ? I think I deserve a re- 
 ward, won't you give me one ?"
 
 MORE ABOUT THE LUMBERMEN. 129 
 
 " Oh yes, if you are not too exacting. I will write 
 you a 'good boy' on a slip of paper, if that will do, 
 or give you the highest prize, a certificate of merit 
 with a flower in each corner." 
 
 " No, that won't do ; this is what -I want, that you 
 will go to ride with me now. I want to get ac- 
 quainted with you, and did you know that there is no 
 way in the world so good for that purpose as riding 
 with a person ?" 
 
 " Oh well, I shall be happy to oblige you, particu- 
 larly as sleigh-riding is a favorite amusement of mine ; 
 the only trouble is, I am afraid it will be a reward to 
 me instead of to you. I don't agree with those people 
 who say they would as soon sit with their feet in cold 
 water, and jingle bells in their hands, as to go sleigh- 
 riding." 
 
 " Nor I either," replied her companion ; mentally 
 adding, " when one has so pretty a lady by his side," 
 as he gazed with undisguised admiration on Esther's 
 face. 
 
 She did not notice it, for she was thinking of some- 
 thing else, and her utter unconsciousness of it pleased 
 Mr. Gordon. 
 
 " What are you getting into such a brown study 
 for? " he asked. " You look as serious as a man does 
 when his notes are falling due, and he's got no money 
 to take them up with." 
 
 " Do I? I was thinking what a nice opportunity I 
 have now of asking you about- the whole lumbering 
 business. I want so much to ask any number of ques-
 
 130 WOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 tions about it, and you are just the one to answer 
 them." 
 
 " Do you think of investing the money you make 
 this winter, in that business?" 
 
 " Nonsense ! but I do really want to understand it 
 from the very beginning, down to the end at the saw- 
 mill." 
 
 " Well, that would be a long story." 
 " Never mind ! tell me what you do first." 
 " Why, get some good timber-laud looked out, and 
 agree to give the owner so much on each thousand 
 feet of lumber that we cut off; that's called stumpage. 
 Then engage a crew of men ; some of them go up 
 early in the Fall, to make preparations for the Winter, 
 build a camp, &c. You've seen a camp, haint you?" 
 " Yes, I went out to see one the other day." 
 " Well, then, you know all about that. This crew 
 of men is divided into different sets, to do different 
 kinds of work. There are the swampers, as they are 
 called, who cut down small trees, in fact build roads 
 from the most important part of the woods, that is, 
 where there is the best timber, down to the river or 
 lake where we haul the trees after they are felled. A 
 good swamper is very much like a civil engineer. He 
 wouldn't know so many scientific terms, but he will 
 swamp out a road quick, and see very soon the easiest 
 and best course to take. I remember hearing an 
 anecdote of our army during the Mexican war, who 
 had got to a place where it was thick woods, and they 
 had to cross a river besides. I forget just where it 
 was, but it was under the command of General Scott.
 
 MORE ABOUT THE LUMBERMEN. 131 
 
 The army was rather short of provisions, and didn't 
 feel quite so comfortable when the engineers decided 
 that it would take a! least two weeks to make a road 
 to the river, because it had to be cut through a hill, 
 and to build a bridge across. The officers held a con- 
 sultation, and talked over all sorts of things without 
 getting ahead any, till at last a Yankee colonel, who 
 was then a captain of a volunteer company, got up 
 and said : ' Give me two hundred men, and I'll have 
 all ready to go over in twenty-four hours.' The offi- 
 cers thought it was Yankee brag, the engineers fairly 
 laughed in his face, but he stuck to it. You know 
 you can't laugh a Yankee down quite so easy. Gen- 
 eral Scott rather liked the idea of making the experi- 
 ment, so the captain got the men. He was an old 
 lumberman, and knew just what he was about, and 
 how to go to work. He just swamped round the hill 
 instead of making a straight cut through it, and threw 
 a log bridge over the river. JSTone of his work, I spose, 
 was very handsome, but it answered the purpose, and 
 in twenty-four hours, sure enough, the Yankee 
 swamper had accomplished what the engineers wanted 
 a fortnight for. Smart set of fellows these woodsmen 
 are. They look rough, but that's no matter. Have 
 you seen any of them travelling up to the camps ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 < Did you notice the packs that they carry ? " 
 
 r^lSTo, not particularly." 
 
 " "Well, they have the bottom of a red shirt sewed 
 up, then fill it up, put it on their backs, and tie the 
 sleeves around their waists. liather a new kind of a
 
 132 NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 valise, but a first-rate one. You see it's a prominent 
 trait of a lumberman to make the most and best out of 
 everything, and it's astonishing how much anybody 
 can do with a little if they only go on that principle. 
 But I'm getting off the track a little." 
 
 " You were telling me about stumpage," said Esther, 
 "but don't any of the head lumbermen own the 
 land?" 
 
 " Oh, yes ! I own a good many townships myself." 
 
 " You buy it of the State, don't you ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Does it cost a great deal?jjj 
 
 "Well, we manage to make ourselves ivhol-e, gen- 
 erally speaking. I can't say but what there is a little 
 log-rolling about it." 
 
 " Log-rolling ! what's thatl^l 
 
 " Why, a good many of us club together ; one 
 wants one township, another wants another, and we 
 play into each other's hands. If the State wants an 
 unreasonable price, we make it up somehow ; but 1 
 aint a-going to tell you all the secrets of the trade. 
 You know there are a good many quirks in every 
 business." 
 
 " I suppose, then, put into plain English, you some- 
 times cheat the State." 
 
 " Oh ! that's rather a hard name ; perhaps cheatin 
 is as good a word as any, but log-rollin is the fashion- 
 able term, and sounds much better. Oh, no ; lumber- 
 men don't profess to be saints, but then they aint the 
 worst of sinners. We try to make the most money 
 we can, just like aufe^ther set of men. We're no 
 
 ;. any othf
 
 MOKE ABOUT THE LUMBERMEN. 133 
 
 better nor worse than the rest of the world. There's 
 a great deal of log-rollin in all sorts of business, the 
 world over. The merchants understand it; and if 
 practice makes perfect, the politicians ought to be the 
 best hands at it that ever was." 
 
 " I have no doubt there is a great deal of truth in 
 what you say," said Esther, " but I never could see 
 the propriety of calling a lack of principle at one 
 time shrewdness in a man, and when the same thing 
 is carried a little farther, branding it as dishonesty." 
 
 "Oh, there's a difference between cheating and 
 making -a good trad|tt| 
 
 "\VelI, how about the swampers? I believe we 
 were talking about them. Do they make roads, ex- 
 cept in the fall ?^l 
 
 " Yes, though they make the principal ones early ; 
 but if there is a good tree or so, to fell, they swamp a 
 track for that, so as to get the logs all together. It's 
 astonishing how soon a lumberman can tell, by the 
 looks of a tree, whether it's good timber or not." 
 
 " Don't they ever make a mistake ?" 
 
 " Yery seldom ; and they have a way of making 
 some trees pass for rather better ones than they really 
 are. You have heard of coneussy timber ?" 
 
 " Yes, but never knew what it was." 
 
 " "Well, its a sort of a disease "that rots a tree, and 
 shows itself in little knots, toad-stool like, on the bark, 
 men have a way of cutting off the bunch, and 
 driving a little wedged-snUped piece of wood in the 
 place, that makes it look for all the world as if a limb 
 had been lopped off there; and so the log goes; and,
 
 134 NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 like a good many things in this world, appears all 
 right till it's put to trial. Well, besides the swampers 
 there's the choppers. They fell the trees two to a 
 tree. They cut in with their axes, and chip down, as 
 they call it : that is, they make a slanting cut above 
 the straight one that reaches down to the first cut, and 
 by-and-by over goes the tree with a rush. They 
 stand only a little one side, for they can tell almost 
 exactly how one will fall, and any accident is very 
 rare. Then they cut off the log the length they want, 
 cut off a few of the lower branches perhaps, and leave 
 the top behind. Then the IO^ML ready to be hauled 
 off. The teamster, with his six or eight ox-team, 
 hitches the logs to his bob-sled, and hauls them to the 
 river. They are hauled right on to the ice, so as to 
 be all ready to start when the ice goes out. The life 
 at a camp is a pleasant one ; they live well ; they don't 
 have any great luxuries, but good, substantial victuals. 
 They don't eat much butter, but molasses, pork, beef, 
 and salt fish, they have in abundance. They drink 
 both tea and coffee. The way they carry up potatoes 
 is a little queer. You see they would freeze, if they 
 wern't prepared beforehand. So they have fish boiled 
 and potatoes boiled and mixed together, so that it 
 makes hash fish. It is put down into barrels, and if 
 
 l 
 
 it freezes it does no harm. They heat it over the fire, 
 and it is all right," 
 
 "Well, now, tell me about the river-driving; isn't 
 that hard work ?" 
 
 " Sometimes it is, when the logs get into a jam ; 
 then there's a good deal of danger. But the lumber-
 
 MORE ABOUT THK LUMBERMEN. 135 
 
 men are a courageous set of men, and never draw 
 back from anything. It's very exciting getting off a 
 jam, but they like it." 
 
 " Isn't there great loss of life ?" 
 
 " There is some, but not so much as anybody would 
 think. When the logs run down well, the men follow 
 in batteaux. You've seen those sharp built, flattish 
 bottomed boats, haven't you ?" 
 
 " Yes ; I've sailed, or rather been poled along in 
 the Aroostook river in one." 
 
 " Well, the men will run over falls in them, in 
 places where it would make a man's hair stand on end 
 to go, if he wasn't used to it. If they hit a rock, they 
 must get swamped, of course, but they can generally 
 steer over safely. They sleep right in the open air at 
 night, wrapped in aiWanket, perhaps under their 
 boats ; though sometimes they have a rough camp put 
 Tip at a narrow place, or near falls, where they usually 
 have jams. These men can balance themselves almost 
 like a rope-dancer. I've seen them stand on a log, 
 with a long pick-pole, a pole that has an iron in the 
 end of it, and steer that wet, slippery log anywhere, 
 no matter if it keeps rolling, as they often do, over 
 and over ; the man keeps stepping too, and shoves the 
 log just where he wants it to go. They can throw 
 these poles, too, as accurately, and witli as good aim, 
 as a Nantucket whaleman would his harpoon." 
 
 Esther listened with evident interest. "They are 
 a fine hardy-looking set of men," she said, " and look 
 as if they might do almost anything that required 
 steadiness of nerve. But now, one thing more. It
 
 136 NOW-A-DAY8. 
 
 puzzles me to know how you get your logs separated 
 from other people's, for they all float down the river 
 together." 
 
 " Oh, we have our own mark on them ; and when 
 the logs get to the boom do you know what a boom 
 is?" 
 
 " Yes ; piers and logs placed across a river, to keep 
 the logs from going farther, isn't it ?" 
 
 " Exactly. Well, when they get there, they are 
 separated and rafted out. We have to pay the own- 
 ers of the boom for it, what is called booniage. If we 
 don't pay, the boom owners can sell the logs." 
 
 " I should think a good many logs would get lost." 
 
 " Well, I suppose they do. There are a great many 
 leaks in the lumbering business, but we do a large 
 one, and calculate to make enough to pay. It's like 
 navigation ; you either make or lose a good deal. It's 
 a business that I like, for you can go into it strong." 
 
 " I suppose," said Esther, " that the logs are floated 
 down from the boom to the saw-mills." 
 
 "Yes, they are. You've been into saw-mills, 
 haven't you ? " 
 
 " Quite often," replied Esther. " I always feel 
 interested to look into the mills, to see those great 
 saws move so steadily through the logs. It always 
 reminds me of the movement of a steam-engine, and 
 conveys the same idea of power." 
 
 "Yes, they are powerful," said the Colonel. " There's 
 been great improvement in saw-mills, of late years." 
 
 " Not in the beauty of the buildings," said Esther, 
 smiling. 
 
 m
 
 MORE ABOUT THE LUMBERMEN. 137 
 
 " No, they are only shells, to be sure, though they're 
 very strong; but finishing up is of no consequence. 
 But the saws cut through a log six or eight times 
 where they used to cut only once ; so that it makes 
 eight boards in the time it used to take to make one. 
 There are thirty of those great saws going at once, 
 sometimes, in a mill, under one roof, and a grand 
 sight it is. It looks the best at night, when the torches 
 flame out and shine on the water, and the men, in their 
 red shirts, are at work tending the saws, getting up 
 logs, and piling boards. You know they keep the 
 mills going all the time that the water is high 
 enough." 
 
 " I should think it would wear the men out," said 
 Esther. 
 
 " Oh, they have nro gangs, one for the day-time, 
 and another set for the night-work. Did you ever see 
 them get up the logs ? " 
 
 " Yes, I have. They are hauled up those inclined 
 planes that lead into the water, I believe." 
 
 "Yes, they're fastened to iron chains, by having an 
 iron spike, which is called a doy, driven into one end 
 of them several inches ; then this chain is fastened by 
 a wheel to the carriage, as the frame on which the 
 logs rest as they pass under the saw is called, and it is 
 hauled up by the saw, which at the same time goes on 
 making boards.'' 
 
 " It's very interesting to watch the men at work," 
 said Esther. " I always like to see them, as the saw 
 cuts steadily through, and the log slides slowly along, 
 put other logs in the place of the last ones, and edge
 
 138 NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 the boards and slide them off. Then the lath machine, 
 where they make laths of the slabs, I always like to 
 watch. They don't seem to waste much in the mills." 
 
 " No, nothing but the edgings which they trim off 
 the outside of the boards, and those drift down the 
 river and make fire- wood for poor folks. It looks well 
 to see the men raft boards, don't you think so?" 
 
 " Yes," said Esther, " there's no part of the opera- 
 tions of a mill that is uninteresting to me. I don't 
 wonder that they like their business. There is some- 
 thing exhilarating to me, even, in the roar of the water, 
 the whizzing of the saw, and the crashing of the logs. 
 It always makes my blood run quicker to look on." 
 
 " It gets to be more of an old story to the work- 
 men," said Gordon, " but still they like it. You see 
 some of the same men work all winter in the woods, 
 logging, drive logs in the spring, and if they get the 
 drive down early enough, work in the saw-mills in the 
 summer. So you see they have variety enough. 
 
 " But I wish you could see a saw-mill at night. I 
 have seen them when I've been riding late, on the 
 opposite side of the river, looking as if they were 
 illuminated, and so bright and cheerful that it really 
 seemed like seeing an old friend ; they look as pleasant 
 as a light-house to a sailor." 
 
 " I have seen one at night," replied Esther, " and it 
 left quite a different impression on my mind from that 
 of which you speak. It was when I was quite a child, 
 and riding with my father at night ; as he left no op- 
 portunity unimproved to show me all that pertained
 
 MORE ABOUT THE LUMBERMEN. 139 
 
 to his business, that of lumbering, he took me into a 
 mill which we were passing. 
 
 " It was rather dark out of doors, and when he led 
 me over the bridge that leads out to the mill, and the 
 red glare of the lights streamed full in my face, I 
 shuddered, and clung closer to his hand. 
 
 " The various sounds of which you speak the 
 whizzing saws, the crashing logs, and the roar of the 
 water struck an awe over me, and as I looked on the 
 stalwart frames of the workmen, in their picturesque 
 garb, working in the lurid light, I could hardly 
 realize that they were mortals ; and as I shrunk closer 
 to my father's side, the idea of the beauty of the scene 
 was lost in its grandeur and wildness. I had been 
 reading fairy tales, and it seemed to me almost as if 
 I had a glimpse into the interior of the earth, where 
 gnomes that I had read of were piling the mammoth 
 piles which, burning, would burst out in the flames 
 of myriad volcanoes. 
 
 " It always left a vivid picture in my mind ; but 
 now, smiling at my childish impressions, I remember 
 only the beauty of the scene, and when I began to 
 make the acquaintance of the heathen gods, I felt as 
 if I had already had a glance into sturdy old Vulcan's 
 workshop." 
 
 The Colonel smiled. "/ never have any fanciful 
 or spiritual thoughts about these men," said he ; "I 
 look on them as practical mortals, and as fine speci- 
 mens of mortality too." 
 
 " The lumbermen are a good deal like the sailors in 
 character, aren't they ? " asked Esther.
 
 140 NOW-A-DAY8. 
 
 " Yes, some. They are just as fearless and jovial, 
 but I think they are rather more intelligent. They 
 are generous, but not such spendthrifts as sailors. 
 They like a spree, but don't make that, their whole 
 business when they get out of the woods. They have 
 a great fancy for beauty, and as they don't see ladies 
 for so long a time when they are in the camp, they all 
 look handsome to them when they do get out, and 
 they are very apt to compliment them, when they get 
 into the city." 
 
 " Yes," replied Esther, laughing, " no matter how 
 plain a woman is, she stands a chance of getting any 
 passable feature complimented in the streets of Bangor, 
 in June or July, by the red-shirters, when the city is 
 full of them. They often follow a woman for a con- 
 siderable distance, commenting on her various charms. 
 We know it is only meant for mischief, and don't 
 mind it at all. I like the looks of those red shirts ; 
 they look so comfortable, but yet I shouldn't think 
 they would be warm enough for these cold winters." 
 
 " Oh, they keep putting on one after another till 
 they have on five or six at a time, and even more. 
 They are warm, and not too clumsy. Their dress is 
 for convenience ; now, those long thick boots, that 
 reach up to the knee, are capital things. 
 
 " But I guess you've heard enough of this, now. 
 Have yon made up your mind to go into the business ? 
 Because, if you have, and would like a partner, why, 
 I wouldn't object to taking you in, myself." 
 
 He looked at her in a quizzical way as he spoke. 
 
 Esther laughed. " Thank you ! I dare say it would
 
 MORE ABOUT TUB LUMBERMEN. 141 
 
 be more profitable than school-teaching, but I doubt 
 whether I should -be so well fitted for it." 
 
 " Oh, I have no doubt that you would make an ex- 
 cellent partner ; one that would just suit me." 
 
 " Whey ! what you about ! " he suddenly exclaimed, 
 as his korse plunged, reared, and came to a dead halt, 
 trembling violently, and apparently much frightened 
 at something which he saw. 
 
 " Go lang ! " shouted his master in a stentorian 
 voice ; but the animal only plunged and backed. 
 
 A sudden change came over the Colonel's frank 
 face : he seemed to forget Esther entirely,.&ut whipped 
 his horse unmercifully, without effect. He sprang 
 from the sleigh. 
 
 " Don't be frightened," he said, glancing at Esther's 
 pale face, as he hurried up to his horse, dealt him 
 several violent blows with his clenched fist, about the 
 head, and with an oath, exclaimed, " Will you go 
 lang now ? " 
 
 Esther supposed that he would lead the animal past 
 the swaying, withered branch of the fallen tree, which 
 had so frightened him ; but no, the Colonel had no 
 idea of making a compromise with his horse. He 
 sprang again into the sleigh, and this time the animal, 
 with a bound, leaped past the terrible object, as if he 
 well knew that he must obey. 
 
 " Now that's what I like," said the Colonel, as he 
 tucked the buffalo robes, which had got displaced 
 during this struggle, again round Esther, seeming in 
 no hurry to withdraw his arm from the back of the 
 sleigh. " You didn't scream like so many silly fools,
 
 142 NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 though you did look so frightened. It was nothing, 
 only when I want a horse to go anywhere he's got to 
 do it." 
 
 " I don't know which I was most afraid of," replied 
 Esther, "you or the horse, you looked so terribly 
 black and ugly." 
 
 The Colonel laughed. 
 
 " I know it don't take much to get my temper up, 
 but then it's a flash and soon over." 
 
 " I shall begin to believe that a ride is the best 
 way to form an acquaintance," said Esther, " for I 
 begin to think that I've known you a long while." 
 
 "Certainly I'm glad to hear it. Now that's the 
 best way. Where's the sense in being on your best 
 behavior a few months and then letting the cat out 
 of the bag show out what you are ! That's my no- 
 tion. You can do it just as well in a few days as in 
 a year." 
 
 " Much obliged for my ride," said Esther as they 
 approached Mrs. Simpson's. 
 
 The Colonel had a great mind to claim something 
 more than thanks, but a glance at Esther's calm, quiet 
 face seemed to satisfy him that she would be much 
 offended at any familiarities, and he. handed her very 
 politely from the sleigh. 
 
 He seemed to be in high spirits, and gave to 
 Elvira the kiss that he had meditated bestowing upon 
 Esther, at which that young lady tossed her head, and 
 exclaimed, "Wall, I never!" She looked rather 
 cross for a moment, but speedily recovered her equa- 
 nimity.
 
 CHAPTEE XIII. 
 
 COLONEL GORDON. 
 
 THE next day after the sleigh-ride, Colonel Gordon 
 left Umcolcus, and though he had been so recent an 
 acquaintance, Esther really felt sorry, for she liked 
 him notwithstanding his peculiarities. 
 
 " He's a smart feller," said Mr. Simpson when the 
 family were sitting together in the evening, as the 
 conversation turned on people, which is apt to be the 
 case when there is either a lack of thoughts in the 
 minds of the persons talking, or of congeniality, for to 
 discuss the characteristics of others is always intei'- 
 esting to high or low, since it is a subject on which 
 we feel perfectly at h.ome, and therefore are apt to 
 allow ourselves the largest liberty. 
 
 " He's a good hearted man as ever was," continued 
 Mr. Simpson, " as free of his money as ef it was dirt, 
 but he won't stand cheatin' nohow. He's alus in law- 
 suits for ever and etarnally." 
 
 " He's great on fast drivin, and as sure as they hev a 
 law agin it, in the city, he'll be sure to cut on like 
 blazes and drive through the streets as ef the old 
 Harry was arter him ; then when they take him up, 
 he knows law enough to plead his own case, and ef
 
 1M NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 they do fine him he'll twist and turn all sorts of ways 
 and they can't make nothin' out on him nohow. He 
 don't vally the money, but he won't be made to do 
 nothin' 'thout he takes a notion. He had a lawsuit 
 onct that two of the smartest lawyers in the state ma- 
 naged for him. Wall, they got the case, but they 
 charged him an exorbiant price for their services, and 
 he wouldn't be gammoned, so, he went to law with 
 urn. He plead his own case agin um and beat urn 
 tew. They haint nothin' but what he kin turn his 
 hand tew, from makin' a law -plea to drivin' an ox- 
 team. He often starts off a load of supplies himself 
 from the city, marchin' through the streets and flour- 
 ishin' his goad-stick, and he can make any kind of a 
 critter do as much agin as any other man. He kinder 
 likes to start off a team so, and go a piece way with 
 um. I tell ye there haint many folks that kin git, 
 round him in any thing. I don't believe there is any 
 other man that the lumbermen thinks so much on, 
 nuther." 
 
 " He is certainly a peculiar person," said Esther, 
 " and one that I should think it would be difficult to 
 dislike." 
 
 The wooden clock between the windows gave a 
 loud whirr and struck nine in a very energetic man- 
 ner. 
 
 Mrs. Simpson proceeded to rouse Sammy, who, 
 leaning his head on the table, which was hauled close 
 to the fire, had fallen fast asleep. 
 
 Sol hung his newspaper on the nails, where quite a
 
 COLONEL GORDON. 145 
 
 file of papers were placed, and taking a candle, walked 
 off to his bed. 
 
 Esther rose to follow his example, but was recalled 
 by the motherly Mrs. Simpson, who enjoined on her 
 to " heat her feet hot, afore she went into her cold 
 chamber." 
 
 It was not long before the Colonel, the same cheer- 
 ful, noisy, jovial fellow, made his appearance at the 
 settlement. He greeted Esther as if he had known 
 her for years, and it was impossible for her to feel 
 that she had been acquainted with him for so short a 
 time. 
 
 Again he wished her to go to ride with him, and 
 when fairly on their way he began : 
 
 " Now, I've got something to say to you, and it's 
 my way to come right up to the point without going 
 all round the stump. You know me well enough to 
 tell just what I am, and I know as much about you as 
 I think it necessary. I know one thing certain, that I 
 never saw a girl that I liked so well as I do you, and 
 now I want to ask you if you like me well enough to 
 be my wife. I shan't say any thing about my pro- 
 perty, for I don't think you care any thing about 
 that, but if you like me well enough to take me for 
 better or worse I'll make you a good husband, so help 
 me God." 
 
 Esther looked at him with no little surprise. " In- 
 deed, Mr. Gordon,"- she said, " I never thought of you 
 in such a light I do like you very much as a friend, 
 but I never had the slightest idea that you wished for 
 any thing but friendship from me."
 
 146 NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 He interrupted her, " "Well, I do want something 
 else, and if you think you can love me, just say so, and 
 I'll try to make you so happy that you will never re- 
 pent of it, but if you can't, why just say that, and I 
 must abide by it." 
 
 " No, Mr. Gordon, I do not love you well enough 
 to become your wife." 
 
 " Not now, perhaps, but do you think you never 
 could ]" 
 
 " I think not. We are not suited to each other. 
 My tastes and inclinations would be so entirely differ- 
 ent from yours that you would weary of me I fear. 
 Besides, you know so little of my real character.'* 
 
 " Nonsense, I'll risk that. The only point is 
 whether you could or could not love me." 
 
 Esther was silent. Her eyes filled with tears. 
 " There is so much that is good and noble in him, 
 could I not be happy with him ?'' she asked herself. 
 But no love was wanting. 
 
 " I would not wrong you so much, Mr. Gordon, as 
 to become your wife, without loving you as you de- 
 serve to be loved, with all the fervor of a woman's 
 best affection ; but though I cannot give you that, 
 you will remain my friend, will you not? I know 
 your generous nature well enough to hope it ; and if 
 I ever need a friend I shall never hesitate to go to 
 James Gordon, sure that I shall ever find one of the 
 truest and noblest in him." 
 
 " Thank you, Esther," said the Colonel, in a choked 
 voice. 
 
 " I am so sorry to have given you pain," continued
 
 COLONEL GORDON. 147 
 
 Esther, obeying the impulse of her heart ; and taking 
 his hand, she pressed it kindly. 
 
 " It was not your fault," he replied, " if I did love 
 you, neither is it yours if you do not love me ; and 
 God forbid that I should ever take a woman's hand 
 without her heart. You are a good, frank girl, and I 
 love you better than ever," he said, leaning over her, 
 and pressing a kiss on her brow. 
 
 A flush rose to her cheek, but she was not offended. 
 " You will, then, be my friend forever ?" she said, 
 softly. 
 
 " Forever !" he repeated, turning aside to conceal 
 his emotion. 
 
 He had no idea how very much he was attached to 
 her, until he found that she could never be his ; and 
 never did there a sadder heart beat in the bosom of 
 any girl, who rejected the suit of a man she did not 
 love, than in Esther's. She strove to talk cheerfully ; 
 and the Colonel, who thought it unmanly to betray 
 the strength of his feelings, did the same. But it was 
 in vain ; both were thinking of the same subject; and 
 though 'they did not mention it again, neither could 
 enter with much spirit into any other. 
 
 The Colonel did not remain long at Mrs. Simpson's, 
 on their return from the sleigh-ride. He did, indeed, 
 stay to supper, but resisted all their entreaties to 
 spend the night there. 
 
 " He must be on his way to St. Johns," he said, " as 
 he was going there on business ;" and bidding Esther 
 and the family a cordial good-bye, he drove off at 
 headlong speed.
 
 14:8 NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 The moon shone palely down on the white surface 
 of the ground, and glimmered through the branches 
 of the evergreens that lined the road at intervals. 
 No sound broke the silence, except the jingling of the 
 sleigh-bells, the crunching sound that the snow emits 
 when trodden on, in a cold night and the occasional 
 hi ! hi ! of the Colonel to his horse, as for a moment he 
 relaxed his rapid trot. 
 
 The Colonel, on this occasion, seemed more in a 
 hurry than ever. In truth, he was trying that experi- 
 ment, which so many have attempted unsuccessfully 
 before him, that of running away from himself and 
 his thoughts. This disappointment, in a matter on 
 which he had set his heart, was a new thing to him. 
 It was almost the first time in his life that he had 
 been thwarted in carrying out an intention; and 
 though he chid himself for being so unmanly, as to 
 let it engross so much of his thoughts, yet it would 
 continually recur, notwithstanding his efforts to pre- 
 vent it. 
 
 He attempted to think of his business ; but in the 
 midst of cogitations on lumber, a picture of a pleasant 
 fireside, and the bright smile of a wife, whose face 
 and figure bore a marvellous resemblance to the little 
 school teacher, would rise before him, and put to 
 flight, visions of rolling logs at once. 
 
 Let men sneer as contemptuously as they will at 
 the air-castles, of which the weaker sex are generally 
 conceded to be the architects ; yet who is there among 
 their number, who, if he will not confess it to others, 
 can deny to himself, that he has seen some such vision
 
 COLONEL GORDON. 149 
 
 of a home, similar to that which floated before Colonel 
 Gordon, where sat enshrined some maiden, bearing 
 the form of some real or ideal personage, whose smile 
 is to make the sunshine of that home. 
 
 Answer, oh most hardened woman-hater, and con- 
 firmed infidel in love matters ! 
 
 Does not the old picture, though perhaps for the 
 most part obscured by the dust and dirt of worldli- 
 ness, still, at times, lighted up by a stray sunbeam, 
 gleam before you for a moment, withdrawing you, 
 for that brief instant, from this " work-a-day world ?" 
 
 "The devil take the women!" was the Colonel's 
 unromantic and half audible conclusion to his reverie 
 at last, as he approached a small inn, where he deter- 
 mined to spend the remainder of the night. 
 
 There were no lights burning, and all was quiet 
 within ; but very soon the loud shouts of Col. Gordon, 
 and his violent thumps at the door, brought out the 
 hostler, who slept upon the floor, and who, half asleep 
 and half awake, grumbled considerably about " being 
 waked up in the middle of the night, when honest 
 folks ought to be in bed." 
 
 The Colonel was in no very amiable humor, and 
 repaid this grumbling by some home truths, as to 
 what belonged to his business, interlarded with seve- 
 ral oaths. These acted as a sort of safety-valve ; and 
 after this escape of steam, Mr. Gordon slipped some 
 silver into the hostler's hand, charging him to take 
 good care of his horse. He himself entered the bar- 
 room, and proceeded to rake open the fire, for he was 
 nearly chilled through.
 
 150 NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 The reprimand or the silver produced quite a favor- 
 able effect on the temper of the hostler, for he soon 
 re-appeared, in very good humor, and speedily disco- 
 vered a bed for the new comer, although he had at 
 first declared, that the house was running over with 
 company, and that it was useless to think of stopping 
 there. 
 
 The next morning found the Colonel in his usual 
 good spirits, and he pushed on towards St. Johns. 
 He was greeted, on his arrival at the hotel there, as 
 if he were no stranger ; and he marched into the bar- 
 room, and swung around, in a manner that plainly 
 indicated that he felt all the importance of the honor 
 of being a Yankee, and the immense superiority of 
 that favored race to the Blue-noses. 
 
 After taking a drink, and treating all round, he 
 went out at once to make his business arrangements ; 
 and no sooner was supper dispatched, than, together 
 with three gentlemen, who had agreed to meet him 
 there, he entered into a private room, where glowed 
 a good coal fire. 
 
 Mr. Sinclair was a gentlemanly-looking man, of 
 rather slight figure, and pale countenance, who bore 
 the appearance of one who had spent the greater part 
 of his life in a counting-room. He presented a strik- 
 ing contrast, not only to the hale and vigorous Colo- 
 nel, but also to one of his friends who accompanied 
 him, Mr. Billings, who had all the portly and com- 
 fortable look of a beef-loving and porter-drinking 
 Englishman. 
 
 Mr. McPherson, the third gentleman, was of a sandy
 
 COLONKL GORDON. 151 
 
 complexion, and, being also the possessor of any quan- 
 tity of freckles, and also high cheek bones, he could 
 make no pretensions to beauty. He was equally defi- 
 cient in grace of manner ; but his eyes, which were 
 shrewd and piercing, seemed to indicate that he pos- 
 sessed other qualities, which are much more requisite 
 than grace or beauty, to a good business man. 
 
 The room was well lighted, but neither light or 
 glowing fire could give that air of comfort which, 
 though it may be claimed in truth for inns, in some 
 countries, is in our own, and in the Provinces gene- 
 rally, wanting. True, it was well furnished, and what 
 was lacking, it would have been perhaps difficult to 
 point out ; yet the room had that unpleasant air of 
 being generally uninhabited, and gave one at once the 
 disagreeable consciousness that it was not an abiding 
 place ; in short, that it was far from being a home. 
 On a table were placed cigars, well filled decanters 
 and wine-glasses ; and after patronizing both, the gen- 
 tlemen proceeded to business. 
 
 It seemed to be merely the closing up of contracts 
 previously agreed upon; the drawing up of notes 
 which were to be discounted by Mr. Sinclair, as he 
 was engaged in banking, the negotiation of bills of 
 exchange, and the like. 
 
 When this was dispatched, the Colonel proposed 
 cards, to which all seemed agreed; a fresh supply of 
 liquors was ordered, and they prepared to make a 
 night of it. 
 
 At first all were in the best possible humor ; each 
 seemed pleased with the results of their respective bar-
 
 152 NOW-A-DAYB. 
 
 gains, and the bottle was circulated freely. Toasts were 
 drank, stories told, which, if not particularly witty, 
 were greeted with jnst as loud shouts of laughter as if 
 they had been the most side-splitting that were ever re- 
 lated ; and songs sung, whose principal merit did not 
 lie in their delicacy of sentiment or expression, still 
 less did it consist in the execution ; for though they 
 adhered, in general, to the same tune, each sang " ad 
 libitum," putting in any number of variations, in any 
 place, without regard to each other. However, as 
 there were no other listeners, and each performer 
 seemed well satisfied, criticism is altogether unneces- 
 sary. 
 
 The cards next, which had not at first received their 
 due share of attention, came in for their part, and at 
 first, rather small stakes were placed upon the table. 
 
 Presently Col. Gordon exclaimed "D n it! none 
 
 of your half-laughs and purser's grins. Down with 
 the dust ! I'll go you any sum you want to." 
 
 The stakes were accordingly doubled, and doubled, 
 again and again, as the liquor, which all partook of 
 freely, began to produce its usual effects. 
 
 It loosened Mr. Billings' tongue, made McPherson 
 a little silly, though good-humored, and stiffened the 
 joints of Mr. Sinclair till he became almost as rigid 
 as if an iron rod had been run through him, while on 
 Colonel Gordon it produced no visible effect. 
 
 The Colonel seemed to be in high favor with Dame 
 Fortune, for he won again and again ; at last Mr. 
 Billings muttered, as Gordon was again the winner,
 
 COLONEL GORDON. 153 
 
 " That's a d d astonishin' run of luck ! D d 
 
 queer, I must say ! I don't understand it!" 
 
 " You havn't learned the Yankee ways yet !" said 
 Sinclair. 
 
 "Do you mean to say I cheated?" exclaimed 
 Gordon. 
 
 "Now, Colonel, don't get that devilish Yankee 
 temper of yours up, and go to showin' your teeth !" 
 said Sinclair. 
 
 " Then don't give me none of your d d blue-nose 
 impudence, or I'll show you something besides teeth !" 
 ejaculated Gordon, straightening up and clenching 
 his fists. 
 
 " I ain't anxious to fight," said Billings, " but per- 
 haps you mightn't come out the winner there." 
 
 " D n you ! just come on, we'll try it !" 
 
 " Xow, gen'l'm'n," began McPherson, who began 
 to talk a little thick, " don't spoil th' ev'nin' so ; just 
 take a drink, and cool off." 
 
 " I'll give you the Queen !" said Sinclair, raising 
 his glass. 
 
 " D n the Queen !" exclaimed Jim, " I'll give 
 
 you the Yankee Nation! the smartest nation on 
 God's earth I'll back nm up against the whole 
 world!" 
 
 " Oh, the Yankees !" said Billings, sneeringly, " yes ! 
 I'll pit um against the world, if the game is brag, and 
 the weapons tongues, but Old England, forever ! the 
 little Island, on whose possessions the sun never sets." 
 
 " Gen'lm'n ! gen'lm'n ! order! order!" exclaimed 
 McPherson, " we didn't come he-ah to fight ! Come !
 
 154 NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 come ! I'll tell a story !" and he began in a very dis- 
 jointed way to tell an anecdote, which Gordon speed- 
 ily interrupted. 
 
 " Hold your tongue, Mac ! The less you say now, 
 the less you'll appear like a fool !" 
 
 "Well, I don'no, Col'n'l, but what you're 'bout 
 right," replied McPhersonj good humoredly ; and, 
 acting on the Honaoepathic principle, that hair of the 
 same dog will cure the wound, he took another glass 
 of brandy. 
 
 " Here's to the English flag, always victorious !" 
 said Billings, filling a glass. 
 
 " Do drink to that, Col'n'l," said McPherson, be- 
 seechingly. 
 
 " I don't want to go so much agin my conscience," 
 replied Gordon, " when I know the Yankees can lick 
 you all to pieces, and not half try. The English are 
 a d d grasping race ; ye can't be contented with- 
 out grabbing arter our lands. Now how like the 
 devil you acted about that North-eastern Boundary !" 
 
 " We wanted our rights," said Sinclair, " and what's 
 more, we got um." 
 
 " Oh, d n it ! if you're satisfied, we are you 
 
 know as well as I do, that 'twant settled accordin' to 
 any sort of a line, and it was lucky for you that it 
 was hushed up, or we should have licked you like 
 thunder." 
 
 " You ! with your raw-boned, slab-sided militia ! 
 What could you do against her majesty's troops ?" 
 asked Sinclair, sneeringly. 
 
 " Well, we've answered that question, before to-
 
 COLONEL GORDON. 155 
 
 day. Only look back as fur as the revolution, and if 
 you're anyways reasonable, you'll be satisfied. We 
 did lick you like blazes, then, and in 1812 ; and if 
 we did it then, we could do it so now that we needn't 
 
 leave a grease spot of you. D n me, if I havn't 
 
 a great rnind to give you a specimen of what one 
 live Yankee can do, if he sets out !" cried Jim, start- 
 ing from his seat. 
 
 McPherson pushed him in again ; but he would 
 not stay in his chair. 
 
 His coat was off in a moment " Come on, both of 
 ye ! all of ye ! I'll show ye that Jim Gordon is 
 more than a match for twenty Blue-noses !" 
 
 The pacific McPherson again interposed, and finally 
 a truce was proclaimed, arid the compact sealed by 
 copious libations. 
 
 Jim would not be stopped from proceeding, how- 
 ever, in a wholesale eulogium on the Yankee nation, 
 whose good qualities and smartness, in every depart- 
 ment, he insisted on again and again, if not in an 
 eloquent, at least in a most earnest and enthusiastic 
 manner, throwing in at intervals a sly taunt at the 
 British. 
 
 Sinclair and Billings listened with no little impa- 
 tience, but both by this time were too far advanced 
 in that condition which is so pithily dascribed as 
 " tight," " half seas over," and a thousand similar cir- 
 cumlocutions, which are used to avoid that disagreable 
 word drunk that they contented themselves with 
 muttered oaths, and renewed applications to the
 
 156 NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 decanters, whose contents seemed to soothe their 
 wounded national honor. 
 
 McPherson talked on at random, till at last, even 
 his tongue refused to do its office, and what was more 
 marvelous still, he could drink no more? he was fairly 
 " over the bay ;" in fact, dead drunk. 
 
 Gordon still plied the bottle, and ere long, both 
 Billings and Sinclair were reduced to the same con- 
 dition. 
 
 The Colonel was not much the worse for his deep 
 potations, apparently, though he had not been more 
 abstemious than the rest. It was one of his peculi- 
 arities, to be able to carry oif any quantity of liquor, 
 and he sought his chamber, leaving his friends to be 
 taken care of, as they were, by the landlord. 
 
 And this was pleasure ! This progression from 
 boisterous mirth to maudlin silliness, thence to the 
 point where the man degenerates into the mere quar- 
 relsome brute, till, having lost long since all trace of 
 that nobility which stamps him as indeed created in 
 God's image, he sinks at last into utter insensibility. 
 
 This is the tempting cup, that has lured so many 
 of the noblest and most generous of men, step by step 
 downward, till they forget wife, children, friends, 
 their own souls even, in dissipation ! 
 
 Yet, so it has ever been, from the days of the great 
 men in olden times, down to the present, that those 
 most highly endowed with gifts of mind and heart, 
 have been too often the slaves of sensuality. 
 
 No upbraidings of conscience visited the pillow of 
 Colonel Gordon, as he flung himself on his couch, and
 
 COLONEL GORDON. 157 
 
 was soon wrapped in the lethargic slumber that re- 
 sults from such orgies; but in the morning, the 
 thought of what had passed, flashed through his mind ; 
 it did not indeed give him the acute pang that his 
 first revel had cost him, but as the remembrance of 
 Esther crossed his mind, he blushed, though he would 
 not have owned it to himself. He knew that she 
 respected him, and sadly would he have dreaded to 
 lose the place which he held in her esteem. 
 
 " Why should I care for her opinion ?" he asked 
 himself. Why, indeed ! yet care he did, for what 
 man is there, who retains any spark of manhood, who 
 does not value the good opinion of a pure and high- 
 minded woman? 
 
 He half resolved that he would never make such a 
 fool of himself again, but his resolutions were, like 
 too many similar ones, made as a sort of quietus to 
 conscience, with no fixed determinatiou of acting on 
 them. 
 
 He walked out, with hardly any settled purpose, 
 but entered a jeweler's establishment and purchased 
 a beautiful set of pearls, which he forwarded to 
 Esther, and this, with a few words that accompanied 
 the gift, was all that she heard directly from her old 
 admirer. She often heard through others, mention 
 of him, as driving on, in his own peculiar fashion, as 
 deeply immersed in the tide of business as ever. 
 
 Days and weeks passed rapidly away, and her school 
 term had expired. 
 
 The last day of school was greeted with mingled joy 
 and sorrow, by both Esther and her pupils.
 
 158 NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 She could hardly have believed that in so short a 
 time she should have become so strongly attached to 
 her scholars, as she found to be the case on parting 
 with them, and many and sad were her farewell visits 
 to her rough but sincere friends. 
 
 " I do hate orfully to hev you go," said Elvira ; and 
 her tears flowed fast. 
 
 She listened patiently to Esther as she gave her, her 
 own little Bible, and promised that she would try and 
 follow its guidance. 
 
 Mrs. Simpson folded her in her motherly arms, and 
 wept over her, as if she had been her own child. 
 
 " Wall, the house does seem orful lonesome," she 
 said, as she turned from the window, after the wagon 
 which bore Esther away, had disappeared. "I wouldn't 
 hev believed that I should hev sot so much by her." 
 
 "She haint a bit proud," said Elvira, "and she 
 never orders nobody round, but somehow or uuther, 
 she alus made me do jist what she set out to. It does 
 seem as ef the whole house hed gone, for all she hed 
 sich mighty quiet ways with her, and never made no 
 sort uv fuss about nothin."
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 A FAMILY PICTURE. 
 
 IT was a pleasant summer evening. The lamps 
 ware not yet lighted, and the doors and windows were 
 opened to catch the cool breeze, which rustled lightly 
 among the shrubbery and the leaves of the trees 
 which surrounded Mr. Wilton's residence. 
 
 Margaret and her mother sat alone in the parlor, a 
 large room, whose furniture, consisting entirely of the 
 straight-backed chairs, and curiously carved tables of 
 the times of the Pilgrims, gave it a quaint though not 
 unpleasing aspect. 
 
 " Come, mother," said Margaret, breaking the long 
 silence which twilight is so apt to cause, " let us walk 
 out awhile in the garden ; the air will do you good." 
 
 Mrs. Wilton arose, and after submitting to be care- 
 fully wrapped in a shawl by her daughter, walked 
 slowly out into the grounds which surrounded the 
 house. 
 
 " How quiet every thing seems," said Margaret, as 
 they paced slowly up and down the winding paths. 
 
 " It is indeed a lovely evening," replied her mother, 
 " and your presence makes it doubly pleasant to me. 
 What should I do wMiout you, Madge ? " she contin-
 
 160 NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 ued, pressing her child's arm, by which she was fondly 
 encircled. 
 
 u I hope that question will long remain unanswered, 
 dearest mother," said Margaret, " for we will not part 
 soon, if I can help it. But you seem tired, shall we 
 not sit down and rest ? Father will be here presently. 
 Let us wait for him." 
 
 They had not long to wait, for a gentleman soon 
 approached them. His head was silvered, but his 
 form was unbent ; and greeting them affectionately, 
 he gave Margaret a letter ; then saying that " it was 
 rather late for invalids to be out," led the way to the 
 house. 
 
 " What has detained you so long ?" asked his wife, 
 as they entered the parlor, and ordered lights. 
 
 " Business, as usual," was the reply. " But how 
 delightful it is to come home, after the cares of the 
 day are over. I think," he added, " that no class of 
 men can appreciate the delights of home so fully as 
 the business man. Jostled as he is, all day long, by 
 eager pursuers of wealth, and seeing nothing but sel- 
 fishness, it is so refreshing to escape from the tumult 
 a while, into his quiet home, and to hear something 
 talked of, beside the ' almighty dollar.' " 
 
 Margaret, who had retired to read her letter, now 
 came in. " She is coming," she said ; " how glad I 
 am!" 
 
 " Esther, I suppose is the person of whom you 
 speak," said her mother, smiling at Margaret's eager- 
 ness. " So, then, we are to see that paragon."
 
 A FAMILY PICTURE. 161 
 
 " How soon may we expect her ?" asked Mr. Wil- 
 ton. 
 
 " In the course of a day or two," replied his daugh- 
 ter. 
 
 " Now for some music, Maggie," said her father, 
 after the conversation which ensued, upon Esther's 
 good qualities, had ended ; and seating himself near a 
 window, while Margaret proceeded to the piano, he 
 prepared to listen. 
 
 It was indeed a delight to hear Mrs. Hastings sing. 
 Passionately fond of music, she threw her earnest soul 
 entirely into her songs, so that the listener, absorbed 
 in the melody, forgot the performer in her music. 
 
 She ceased singing, and commenced playing one of 
 Mendelssohn's exquisite songs without words, saying, 
 as she finished, " How near such music brings one to 
 the artist's soul !" 
 
 " It does, indeed, with such an interpreter as you 
 are, my dear," replied her mother, with a fond smile ; 
 and as Margaret stood by her side, lifting her mother's 
 grey hair, caressingly from her brow, she added, 
 " how delightful it is to have you at home once more." 
 
 " It is, indeed," replied her father ; " we form once 
 again the perfect chord, which Mrs. Childs speaks of." 
 
 The silence was unbroken for a few moments, save 
 by a suppressed cough from Mrs. Wilton. 
 
 It fell on Margaret's ear like a death-knell, warning 
 her that the harmony of that triple chord might, ere 
 long, be broken by the stern death-message. 
 
 " Father," said she suddenly, " what do you think of 
 our trip to Clarendon Springs ? I think it would be
 
 162 NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 of great benefit to mother, for they are quite different 
 from Saratoga, quiet and retired, and the waters cer- 
 tainly have effected some wonderful cures." 
 
 " I agree with you, Maggie," replied Mr. "Wilton, 
 " that the journey will do you both good. I should 
 like, of all things, to spend a few weeks there myself, 
 among the green hills of Vermont." 
 
 " And why won't you?'' asked his wife. 
 
 " I can only ring the changes on my old excuse, 
 business," replied her husband ; " but I will go with 
 you, and see you nicely settled in good rooms at the 
 Clarendon House, and perhaps spend a few days 
 there." 
 
 " Ah !" replied Margaret, smiling, " I don't place 
 any dependence upon your stay there, even of a few- 
 days. I know you too well. You cannot rest long 
 enough. I really believe, mother," she added, " that 
 father would be miserable, if he were not surrounded 
 by the hum of that business, of which he complains 
 at times so bitterly." 
 
 " I don't know but you are half right," replied her 
 father ; " but when shall we start for Clarendon ?" 
 
 " As soon as Esther comes,'' said Margaret ; " I 
 think she will enjoy the trip equally as much as any 
 of us." 
 
 " I should think even more," answered her mother, 
 " for she must be heartily sick of her experiment of 
 teaching in the backwoods." 
 
 u I shall be glad enough to get her back into civil- 
 ized life," said Margaret, as she bade her parents good 
 night, and retired to her chamber.
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 CLAKENDON SPRINGS. 
 
 " THIS is a lovely morning," said a young lady, who 
 was slowly walking up and down the lowest of the 
 three piazzas, which surrounded the Clarendon House, 
 a large four-storied brick building. 
 
 " It is, indeed, Miss Sidney," rejoined her compan- 
 ion, a gentleman, whose sallow complexion, and some- 
 thing in his accent, proclaimed from the South. " The 
 air is delightful ; so fresh and cool. But have you 
 yet quaffed any of the water from the spring ?" 
 
 " No," replied Miss Sidney. 
 ' Shall we not go down, then ?" he asked. 
 
 " If you will wait a moment," answered Miss Sid- 
 ney, " till I get a veil. You know we ladies must 
 take care of our complexions," she said, smiling, as 
 she re-appeared, with a green veil, wound quite taste- 
 fully and becomingly around her head. 
 
 " I supposed Miss Sidney quite above the ordinary 
 weakness of her sex, as regards beauty." 
 
 " No, Mr. Everett," replied his companion, as they 
 slowly descended the hill, in the shade of a few trees ; 
 " I do not profess any superiority over ordinary mor-
 
 164 NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 tals, and cannot imagine what grounds yon had to 
 form your supposition upon. Nor do I admit your 
 premises, that it is a weakness to prize the beauty 
 which we possess, especially when so little happens to 
 fall to the share of an individual, as in my case. I 
 did not say that to draw out a compliment," she added, 
 smilingly, as she saw her companion about to speak ; 
 " I know very well that my complexion is about my 
 only hope, to rescue me from the class of homely 
 young ladies, and shall take good care of it." 
 
 " Here we are, at the spring; and if you will not 
 allow me to express my opinion, without charging me 
 with flattery, Miss Sidney, allow me to refute your 
 words by your own eyes," he said, drawing her to 
 the railing of a bridge, which crossed a small stream. 
 
 " I find only ' assurance made doubly sure,' " re- 
 plied Miss Sidney, " and prefer that you should offer 
 me a glass of water." 
 
 Quite a large company, some of whom ill health, 
 and some of whom pleasure, had drawn to Clarendon 
 now surrounded the springs, which were three in 
 number. 
 
 From one, called the " love-sick spring," Mr. Eve- 
 rett brought a glass of water, which Miss Sidney de- 
 clined, saying that at present she did not need it. 
 
 Another flowed from a little mound ; from this they 
 drank, and ascended the hillock to visit the third. 
 
 This was famed for the cure of dyspepsia, and little 
 bubbles were continually welling up. 
 
 " People say these bubbles contain a deal of virtue ; 
 you had better catch one or two," said Miss Sidney.
 
 CLARENDOX SPRINGS. 165 
 
 Stooping down, Mr. Everett dexterously caught one 
 in his glass, and, with a low bow, offered it to his 
 companion. 
 
 " There's the breakfast-bell," he said, as she returned 
 the tumbler ; " shall we return ?" 
 
 Slowly they ascended the hill, upon whose summit 
 stood the hotel, greeting with morning salutations 
 several of their acquaintances, who were going some- 
 what later to the spring, for their morning draught. 
 
 " Good morning, Mrs. Carroll," said Mr. Everett, 
 as they reentered the house. " Your fair niece and I 
 have been beforehand with you, for we have already 
 taken a glass of the pure fountain of life !" 
 
 " I think you are mistaken," said Mrs. Carroll, a 
 large and showily-dressed lady; "for I sent Mary to 
 the spring long ago, to bring up a pitcher of water for 
 me, before you or Emily had finished your morning 
 dreams, I imagine. But shall we not join the gene- 
 ral tide, which flows towards the breakfast-room ?" 
 she continued. 
 
 Her companions assented, and they passed through 
 a long and rather dark passage-way, to the low hall 
 which Mrs. Carroll had designated. 
 
 Scarcely had they taken their seats, when a party 
 of four entered; a middle-aged gentleman and his 
 wife, with two young ladies ; " both rather attractive," ' 
 Mr. Everett remarked, "and one decidedly hand- 
 some." 
 
 " I wonder who they are," said Mrs. Carroll. * 
 
 Emily Sidney looked for a moment, then ex-
 
 166 XOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 claimed, " It is, I am sure it is, Esther Hastings ; 
 though I don't know who is with her." 
 
 "Let me ask Mrs. Merrill," said Mrs. Carroll. 
 " She will know all about them, I'll wager a pair of 
 gloves ; for she knows everybody in the United States, 
 apparently, and all about their relatives, even to the 
 third and fourth generation.'' 
 
 "I shall not accept your wager," answered Mr. 
 Everett. " f or I should be inclined to take the same 
 side of the question that you bet upon. But who is 
 Miss Hastings ?" he asked, of Emily. 
 
 " A very dear school friend of mine." 
 
 " Ah, I perceive !" replied Mr. Everett, rather scorn- 
 fully ; " the old story of Damon and Pythias, in a fe- 
 male form." 
 
 " Laugh as you choose, about school friendships," 
 returned Emily, " they are sometimes lasting ; at least 
 the influence of one will always remain with me. But 
 I can bring better authority than my own ; your favor- 
 ite, Longfellow, speaks almost reverently of the friend- 
 ship existing between Cecilia Vaughn and Alice 
 Archer ; and you cannot be heretical enough to de- 
 spise his opinion." 
 
 " However great an admirer of Longfellow I may 
 be, Miss Sidney, I am not bound to receive every 
 word he utters, and every sentiment he advances, as 
 oracles. I never claimed infallibility for my favorite. 
 I must beg an introduction to your friend ; and as 
 her parly has just returned to the parlor, let us move 
 in the same direction." 
 
 The greeting between the two friends was warm,
 
 CLARENDON SPRINGS. 167 
 
 and both hastened to make each other acquainted 
 with their companions. After a few moments con- 
 versation, Mr. Everett proposed a walk to the spring. 
 Mr. Wilton had excused himself, as he was obliged 
 to write some letters, he said ; but Margaret's arm 
 afforded the support she needed, to her mother. Mr. 
 Everett, whose assistance Mrs. Wilton had declined, 
 walked slowly by the side of Mrs. Carroll, while Es- 
 ther and Emily followed leisurely, talking together in 
 a low tone. 
 
 " So that beautiful woman is your step-mother ?" 
 said Emily, gazing at Mrs. Hastings, admiringly ; 
 " and is she as lovely in character as in person ?" 
 
 " She is a woman of a great deal of character, in my 
 opinion," replied Esther, " and I love her very much; 
 as to her peculiar traits, I leave you to discover them ; 
 you have a fine opportunity here. At present, 1 pre- 
 fer to hear what you have to say about yourself. It 
 has been so long since I have seen or heard anything 
 from you, that I presume you have wonderful things 
 to relate. How strange that we should have met 
 here !" she continued : " but it was not ill health that 
 brought you here, Emily?" as she gazed on her 
 friend's blooming countenance. 
 
 " Oh, no, indeed !" replied Emily ; " I came with 
 aunt Carroll, of whom you have often heard me speak. 
 She has no children, and I have always been her favor- 
 ite niece. She has begged mother to give me to her 
 as her daughter, but mother could not, of course : 
 however, I stay with her a great part of my time. 
 But, Ettie dear," continued Emily, in a lower tone,
 
 168 NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 " I have a great many things to say to you ; what do 
 you say to taking a long walk with me this afternoon ?" 
 
 "That it would be delightful," replied Esther, " and 
 would seem like the days of ' lang syne.' " 
 
 While the girls were thus talking, Mrs. Carroll and 
 Mr. Everett were quite eagerly discussing, whether 
 Miss Hastings would be called a beauty. 
 
 " In my opinion, no," said Mi's. Carroll ; " she has 
 too little color" (glancing at Emily's fresh complexion) ; 
 " and though her features are regular, they lack ex- 
 pression." 
 
 " How can you think so ?" replied Mr. Everett. " I 
 was just about remarking, that her chief charm con- 
 sisted in her varying expression. But we are walking 
 too fast for Mrs. Wilton," he said, as he looked back, 
 and saw Margaret and her mother quite a distance 
 behind them. 
 
 " Will you not now accept of my support ?" he said, 
 approaching Mi's. Wilton. 
 
 " I will avail myself of a lady's privilege, that of 
 changing my mind," she replied ; " and though I re- 
 fused just now, I will accept your kind assistance." 
 
 " Second thoughts are always best," returned Mr. 
 Everett. 
 
 " Do you really think so ?" asked Mrs. Hastings. 
 
 " In instances like the present, certainly," the re- 
 plied ; " when, as in this case, a lady accepts an 
 attention, which she has once refused." 
 
 Mrs. Carroll, who had been waiting for Mrs. Wil- 
 ton to come near, hearing only the last part of this 
 sentence, now asked if they were discussing the pro-
 
 CLARENDON SPRINGS. 169 
 
 priety of a lady's acceptance of an offer which she 
 had once rejected. 
 
 " Not exactly," replied Mrs. Wilton, " but some- 
 thing a little similar. Pray, what is your opinion, 
 Mrs. Carroll ?" 
 
 " It would be my advice to a lady in such a case," 
 was the reply, " to adhere to her first decision. No 
 gentleman ever forgets or forgives a rejection." 
 
 " You are rather hard upon our sex," said Mr. 
 Everett. "But what do you say, Mrs. Hastings ?" 
 
 " I think," said Margaret, coloring deeply, " that it 
 is a matter depending entirely on circumstances. 
 Still, in only one case, do I think it justifiable. If the 
 lady's first decision was occasioned by some objection 
 which was afterwards removed, I should think it 
 right to accept the lover, but if want of affection for 
 him had been her reason, nothing could be an excuse 
 for her acceptance of him unless it was a change in 
 her feelings." 
 
 " I agree with you," replied Mrs. Wilton, "but she 
 should be careful not to mistake a lack of fancy for a 
 want of affection. For my own part I don't believe 
 in what are generally termed love matches." 
 
 " Neither do I, Mrs. Wilton," said Mrs. Carroll, " I 
 have often observed that such marriages frequently 
 prove most unhappy." 
 
 " But you do not believe in a marriage without 
 love, ladies," interposed Mr. Everett. " At least you 
 do not, Mrs. Hastings ?" 
 
 " I believe there have been such things," said Mar- 
 garet, smiling, " but this is a subject upon which I 
 8
 
 170 NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 have not prepared myself for discussion, and there- 
 fore cannot discourse upon it, in a sufficiently eloquent 
 manner to satisfy myself, so you must excuse my en- 
 larging upon it. There are the girls waiting for us 
 rather impatiently ; let us join them." 
 
 After each had taken a glass of the pure water, 
 Mr. Everett proposed some exercise in the bowling 
 alley. It was already occupied by parties of ladies 
 and gentlemen, and as Mrs. Wilton found that the 
 rolling of the balls gave her a headache, Margaret 
 returned with her mother to the house. They were 
 soon followed by the rest of their party, and as Mr. 
 Everett offered to read aloud to Emily and Esther in 
 the parlor, they took their work and seated themselves 
 to listen to him. Mrs. Carroll, not very fond of read- 
 ing, betook herself to another part of the room, and 
 was soon deeply interested in an animated discussion 
 on that never-failing topic, dress, which was carried 
 on by a group of ladies. 
 
 Esther and Emily were very much interested in 
 Mr. Everett's reading of the Ancient Mariner. At 
 its close he abruptly asked them, " if they had never 
 met persons to whom they had felt impelled, like the 
 Ancient Mariner, to tell their thoughts." 
 
 " I think," replied Emily, " that I have encountered 
 people who must have felt thus towards me, for I 
 have often been detained by some long tale, quite as 
 unwillingly as was the poor Wedding Guest." 
 
 " But seriously, Miss Hastings, have you never felt 
 this truth, which Coleridge thus brings out?" 
 
 " I think I have," she replied, " both from experi-
 
 CLARENDON SPRINGS. 171 
 
 ence and observation. Still, I agree with Emily that 
 I have more frequently met with persons who seemed 
 impelled to unbosom to me, than those to whom I felt 
 a desire to reveal ' my innermost,' as Miss Bremer 
 would say." 
 
 "How are you going to spend the afternoon?" 
 asked Mr. Everett, after a pause. 
 
 " We are going to walk together," replied Emily. 
 " I intend to show Esther some of my favorite haunts. 
 I suppose you, Mr. Everett, will take your usual 
 
 . " I think I shall, Miss Sidney, though I might be 
 tempted to ask permission to accompany you in your 
 walk, if I did not have a presentiment that you would 
 prefer, in your first expedition, an opportunity to talk 
 unrestrained by a third person." 
 
 " You are very considerate," remarked Esther. " I 
 think you must have sisters, who have let you into the 
 secrets of school friends." 
 
 " No," said Mr. Everett, sighing, " I have never 
 enjoyed the blessing of a sister's society, nor am I so 
 fortunate as to possess young lady cousins, that excel- 
 lent substitute for the lack of sisters." Then glancing 
 at his watch, and remarking that he had no idea of 
 the lateness of the hour, he sauntered slowly away.
 
 CHAPTEK XVI. 
 
 A CHAT IN SCHOOL GIRL FASHION. 
 
 MR. EVERETT was sitting, or rather reclining at full 
 length upon a bench on the piazza, smoking a cigar, 
 when the two friends, ready dressed for their walk, 
 appeared. 
 
 "You look the very picture of enjoyment," said 
 Esther, as they passed him. 
 
 " Ah, that remark only demonstrates anew the truth 
 of the old proverb, ' appearances are oftentimes de- 
 ceitful,' Miss Hastings. If you could only realize the 
 dissatisfaction and unrest that lie concealed under 
 this apparently calm exterior, you would come to 
 quite a different conclusion." 
 
 " My imagination is not sufficiently vivid," replied 
 Emily, " to admit of such a supposition, and I shall 
 not waste my sympathy upon one so little needing 
 it." 
 
 " Very well," returned Mr. Everett, " you have 
 only furnished me with a new subject for bitter medi- 
 tations. Adieu, and a pleasant walk to you." 
 
 " We wish you delightful dreams in return," said 
 Esther, and they descended the hill.
 
 A CHAT IN SCHOOL-GIRL FASHION. 173 
 
 " It is rather warm, Emily," she said. " I hope it 
 is not far to your old rock." 
 
 " Not very," replied Emily, " we have to cross that 
 field there, where you see that grove ; this little 
 stream flows by the side of it. It is charmingly cool, 
 when you get there." 
 
 "It is, indeed, a very beautiful spot," exclaimed 
 Esther, as they paused under the shade of some fine 
 old elm trees, "I should like to spend a long time 
 here." 
 
 " The water sounds so pleasantly as it prattles along, 
 that it always makes me feel cheerful," said Emily. 
 
 As they seated themselves upon the soft grass, 
 Esther asked, " What is it, Emily, that you have to 
 tell me ? I am really quite anxious to hear your 
 revelation." 
 
 " Your curiosity shall be satisfied almost imme- 
 diately, Ettie, for do you know that you possess the 
 gift of the wedding guest, that we were reading of, 
 this morning? At the risk of boring- you, I am going 
 to play the part of the ancient mariner." 
 
 " Very well," returned Esther, " you know that I 
 was always a good listener ; so I will take an easy 
 position, and prepare for your story." 
 
 "First let me ask you, Esther, if you have ever 
 been in love ?" 
 
 " No, Emily, I am yet ' in maiden meditation, 
 fancy free,' but your question gives me a clue to your 
 revelation, I think. Have you then, my dear, found 
 the other half of your soul ?" 
 
 " I do not feel sure that I have found my lost half,
 
 174: NOW-A-DAY8. 
 
 from which the ancients would have it, that I was 
 severed, hut I am engaged. Mr. Templeton is my 
 lover's name, but it seems absurd to call him a lover 
 and you will say so, when you see him. He isn't 
 the least like my beau ideal, but then people never 
 find their day-dreams, in that respect, realized. Mr. 
 Templeton is a business man, and his method of woo- 
 ing is like any other business transaction, with him ; he 
 is ten or fifteen years older than I am, and not at all 
 handsome ; but that doesn't matter so much, for I don't 
 care to have a handsome husband, and have people 
 wondering ' how he came to have such a plain wife.' '' 
 
 "How long is it since you became engaged?" asked 
 Esther. 
 
 " Six or eight months since," replied Emily ; " I 
 never was more surprised in my life, I assure you, 
 Ettie, than I was, when father called me into the 
 parlor one day, and told me that Mr. Templeton 
 wished me to become his wife I have always known 
 him, but the idea of him as a lover, never entered 
 my mind I hardly knew what to say : but father, 
 mother, aunt Carroll, and all of my friends, seemed 
 to take it as a matter of course, that in process of 
 time, I should become Mrs. Templeton. I didn't care 
 much about him at first, and it used to trouble me a 
 good deal, to think I didn't love him as I ought, but 
 now, I feel no sort of uneasiness about that, for I 
 never could have believed that a few months would 
 have made such a change in my feelings towards him. 
 I love him plenty well enough, Esther, and now the
 
 A CHAT IN SCHOOL-GIRL FASHION. 175 
 
 only thing that troubles me is, whether he has as 
 much regard for me, as I have for him." 
 
 " If he did not love you, Emily, why has he chosen 
 you ? I should think that was proof enough of his 
 affection." 
 
 " I often think of that," replied her friend, " still 
 it does not satisfy me ; sometimes I really fear that 
 he does not care at all for me." 
 
 " You remind me of the old Spanish proverb," said 
 Esther, " that ' there is no true love without jealousy.' " 
 
 " No, I am not jealous there is no person of whom 
 I could be but still there is something wanting 
 something that I cannot explain. It is not lack of 
 attention, for he is polite and kind, always. I long 
 to have you see him, Esther, to see if your sharp eyes 
 cannot discover what is the trouble." 
 
 "The trouble, I presume, Emily, exists only in your 
 imagination. You are determined to make a hero 
 out of a plain business man, and when he is thinking 
 of a rise in flour, or railroad stocks, you imagine that 
 he is brooding over some fault in you." 
 
 " It may be so," said Emily, laughing, " but still I 
 am not quite satisfied. Mr. Templeton is really a 
 noble man, and one that I shall always respect. I am 
 even willing to promise to obey him only think of 
 that concession, for I know that I should do it with- 
 out promising." 
 
 " I do really feel quite a desire to see the man who 
 could make such a change in a friend of mine, whom 
 I have often heard declare, that she would never give
 
 1 76 NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 op her will for any man," replied Esther. " When 
 shall I see this wonderful magician ?" 
 
 " He will be here in the course of a few weeks," 
 returned Emily, " to take us home ; but you must 
 promise to make me a long visit this fall, and then 
 you will have a fine opportunity to know all about 
 him, only don't fall in love with him !" 
 
 " Never fear that," rejoined Esther, laughingly, " I 
 will try and get a talisman to protect me from his 
 charms." 
 
 " Here is one of his letters," said Emily, putting 
 her hand into her pocket, " you see I have been too 
 recently a school- girl, to give up the habit of carrying 
 a pocket full of treasures," she continued, as she 
 pulled out the contents into her lap ; " here it is a 
 little crumpled, to be sure read it, Esther, dear." 
 
 Esther glanced at the handwriting, regular, bold 
 and rapid " a good business hand," she said, and 
 after reading it, remarked, " it is rather brief, but 
 that seems characteristic of the man he goes straight 
 to the point ; says what he has to say concisely, and 
 stops when he has got through." 
 
 "Doesn't it strike you as rather cool?'' asked 
 Emily. 
 
 " No, not particularly so ; it seems to me a very 
 sensible love letter," replied her friend, " and sense is 
 an element not usually ascribed to letters of that 
 class." 
 
 " Common sense is the principal trait in Mr. Tem- 
 pleton's character," remarked Emily. 
 
 " An excellent one, that," replied Esther, " I always
 
 A CHAT IN SCHOOL- GIRL FASHION. 177 
 
 like practical people, to live with ; sentimental ones 
 do nicely for variety, but every-day/eort of persons 
 are much more agreeable to spend a lifetime with." 
 
 Emily now began to ask Esthe^of her occupati<?ns, 
 since they had parted at Mr. Marshall's school, and 
 was quite amused at her friend's description of life 
 in the backwoods. 
 
 The conversation next turned upon their old school- 
 days and school-friends. 
 
 "Have you heard from Maria Brooks recently?" 
 asked Esther. 
 
 " Yes, not long since poor Maria, how she used to 
 dislike Mathematics. She used to say she had wept 
 a sea of tears over that study." 
 
 " And Virginia, what of her ?" 
 
 " Oh, yes, I must tell you, Maria wrote of her, 
 that she was called a belle, very bewitching and fas- 
 cinating." 
 
 " / never thought Jennie handsome," remarked 
 Esther. 
 
 " Handsome ! no indeed, she certainly was not ; 
 but you know she never at school paid much attention 
 to her personal appearance at any rate, she is called 
 handsome now." 
 
 " Virginia was always rather a puzzle to me," said 
 Esther, musingly. 
 
 " She never puzzled me any," replied Emily ; " I 
 never saw anything mysterious in her : she was rather 
 reserved, to be sure, and had no intimate friends. 
 But what did you discover so strange about her ?" 
 
 "I can hardly tell myself; I never studied her 
 8*
 
 178 NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 much," said Esther ; "yet I had always an impres- 
 sion, when with her, even when she seemed most open 
 and communicative, that she took care not to reveal 
 her real thoughts." 
 
 " Poh, Esther ! you are the enigma. Your eyes 
 always look as if you saw deep into every, one. How 
 is it ? do you possess the gift of second sight ?" 
 
 " No, I do not claim that power ; but I do see that 
 the shadows here are lengthened, and think it time 
 that we were at the Clarendon House." 
 
 They quickly started, and, on reaching the hotel, 
 found Mrs. Carroll, Mrs. Hastings, and Mr. Everett 
 upon the piazza. Margaret addressed them as runa- 
 ways, declaring that she and Mrs. Carroll were about 
 sending Mr. Everett upon a voyage of discovery, in 
 pursuit of them. 
 
 " Yes," said Mr. Everett, " I really began to fear 
 that I should be under the painful necessity of indit- 
 ing a newspaper paragraph, dilating upon the myste- 
 rious disappearance of two beautiful damsels, and re- 
 questing the same to be returned to their anxious 
 friends, if met by any one." 
 
 " This burst of eloquence was to have been headed 
 ' strayed or stolen,' I presume," said Emily. " It is a 
 pity," she continued, "that we had not stayed a little 
 longer ; it seems too bad that the world should be de- 
 prived of such a glowing paragraph." 
 
 " Since Mr. Everett bears the loss of fame so phi- 
 losophically," said Mrs. Hastings, " don't, I beg of 
 you, bring up any bright visions of glory before him,
 
 A CHAT IN SCHOOL-GIRL FASHION. 179 
 
 lest they should prove too much even for his equa- 
 nimity." 
 
 " Many thanks, Mrs. Hastings, for your considera- 
 tion," said Mr. Everett, bowing gracefully. 
 
 " Who is that gentleman, leaning against a pillar, 
 yonder ?" asked Mrs. Hastings. " He seems to be 
 looking at us, as if he despised us : at least, I read 
 contempt in his smile, and in the glance of his dark 
 eye." 
 
 " I think you read him aright, fair lady," replied 
 Mr. Everett. " Mr. Mclntyre is his name. He is a 
 gentleman of fortune, and rather handsome. Here 
 ends my knowledge of him, for he seems to wish no 
 acquaintance with any one. He has declined an in- 
 troduction to several ladies, which I happened to 
 overhear an old friend of his, propose to him." 
 
 " I have noticed him several times before," said 
 Mrs. Hastings, "since we have been talking, and 
 always wearing that same contemptuous expression, as 
 if he thought we were butterflies of fashion." 
 
 " Yes, we call him Diogenes," said Emily. 
 
 " Diogenes that was the name of Mr. Toot's dog, 
 wasn't it?" asked Mrs. Carroll. "Why should you 
 call that gentleman by such a name ? I am sure there 
 is nothing of the puppy about him." 
 
 The company smiled ; and Emily exclaimed, 
 " Pshaw ! aunt Carroll, you know very well what I 
 meant ; and you must forgive a school-girl, so recently 
 emancipated as I, for allusions to her classical diction- 
 ary." 
 
 " Why, Emily Sidney," suddenly exclaimed her
 
 180 NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 aunt, " I really believe your feet are wet. Did you 
 go to walk with those slippers on ?" 
 
 "I think I must have done so," replied Emily, 
 "since I have not the fairy gift of being in two places 
 at once, and therefore could not have changed them." 
 
 " What fairy was that, of whom you speak, pos- 
 sessed of such a marvellous gift ?" said her aunt. " I 
 don't remember her name ; but then it's a long time 
 since I read Cinderella, and other tales." 
 
 Emily looked half vexed, but answered, " I must 
 refer you to a perusal of those volumes, for the inves- 
 tigation of the subject. I don't think it's a good idea 
 for people, who have plenty of time, to depend on 
 others for their information." 
 
 " "Well, Em, go and change your slippers ; and you 
 too, Miss Hastings, if your feet are wet." 
 
 Esther replied that her feet were perfectly dry, as 
 she had worn rubbers. 
 
 The supper-bell now rang, and Mr. Wilton advanced 
 from the parlor, where he had been sitting, reading a 
 newspaper, and saying that his wife was asleep when 
 he last saw her, asked if Margaret thought it best, to 
 waken her. But Esther had already gone in search of 
 her, and, with Mrs. Wilton, now met Margaret in 
 the hall. Mrs. Wilton looked pale and wearied, and, 
 to Margaret's anxious inquiries, replied, that it was 
 merely the fatigue attendant upon the journey, and 
 that she should feel better in a few days. 
 
 After tea, most of the people in the house adjourned 
 to the parlor, where music, dancing, and conversation, 
 by turns, entertained them. Margaret noticed that
 
 A CHAT IN SCHOOL-GIRL FASHION. 181 
 
 Mr. Mclntyre stood occasionally in the door, and 
 looked upon the gay company with the same . indiffer- 
 ent smile. She thought his eyes rested upon her, and 
 not with the admiring gaze, which she was accustomed 
 to see everywhere bent upon her. 
 
 "He thinks me a vain trifler," she said to herself; 
 " and why should he not ? but, after all, what is his 
 opinion to me ?" 
 
 Many were now dancing the polka, and she could 
 not avoid looking at him, to read what he thought of it. 
 
 "I should hate to have those dark eyes bent upon 
 me, with such a contemptuous expression," said Es- 
 ther, who had approached her step-mother, unnoticed. 
 
 "Then you, too, have observed his countenance?" 
 
 " Yes," replied Esther, "it is quite a striking one." 
 
 " He seems to be a ' looker-on in Vienna,' " remarked 
 Emily, who, with her aunt Carroll and Mr. Everett, 
 now joined them. 
 
 " It is a lovely evening," said Mr. Everett ; " will 
 not the ladies take a stroll, in the bright moonlight if" 
 
 To this proposition Esther and Emily readily ac- 
 ceded ; but Mrs. Carroll said that her days of romance 
 were over, and that she preferred a quiet chat with 
 Mrs. Wilton to a star-gazing expedition ; and Marga- 
 ret, pleading fatigue, decided to remain with the qui- 
 eter party. 
 
 " Confess now, Mr. Everett," said Emily, as they 
 walked along the smooth road, shaded by trees, 
 through whose thick canopy the moonlight softly fell, 
 " confess that you prefer our northern summer to 
 your hot, parching, southern skies ; and that the music 
 of the wind sighing through the rustling leaves "
 
 182 NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 " Mingled with the croaking of the frogs," inter- 
 rupted Mr. Everett. 
 
 " Yes, I accept the amendment," rejoined Emily ; 
 "even the songs of the frogs are far preferable to the 
 hum of the mosquitoes, which surrounds you in your 
 gorgeous southern home." 
 
 " Ah ! there you touch a tender point," replied Mr. 
 Everett ; " though there is a slight satisfaction, to a 
 person snugly ensconced behind a mosquito-bar, in 
 the thought that he is free from his aerial tormentors. 
 But, Miss Sidney," he continued, " let us for once, lay 
 aside the weapons in defence of our respective sec- 
 tions. I hang out a flag of truce, and pray for an 
 armistice." 
 
 " I agree," said Emily ; " for, I dare say, your forces 
 need a few days to rally in, particularly that forlorn 
 hope, which you led up so gallantly to the defence of 
 that weak position, your peculiar institution, a few 
 evenings since." 
 
 " I would not say a word in reply, Mr. Everett," 
 said Esther, " for you know pur sex must always 
 haverthe last word ; and I assure you, in my acquaint- 
 ance with Emily, I have never found her an exception 
 to the rule." 
 
 " What do you say to a race ?" asked Emily, " if it 
 does not shock your ideas of decorum. I'll wager a 
 fig that I beat you both;" and before her compan- 
 ions could reply, taking Esther by the hand, she had 
 started at a rapid pace, looking back, and beckoning 
 to Mr. Everett, who, looking rather puzzled for a mo- 
 ment, at length followed her example.
 
 A CHAT m SCHOOL-GIRL FASHION. 183 
 
 " Ah ! my fair Atalanta ! you have indeed earned 
 such a title," he exclaimed, as he came up, panting, 
 to the spot where the two girls had paused, and were 
 leaning against a tree. " But are you not nearly ex- 
 hausted by such exertion ?" 
 
 " Oh no ! this is just the night for a scamper," re- 
 plied Emily ; " and I have half a mind to put your 
 gallantry to the test, by challenging you to another 
 trial of speed." 
 
 " I beg that you will not subject me to so severe a 
 proof," said Mr. Everett. 
 
 " A penny for your thoughts, Mr. Everett," ex- 
 claimed Esther, breaking the silence which ensued ; 
 "and don't, I beg of you, give me the answer 
 nothing." 
 
 " I dare say," remarked Emily, " if the truth were 
 known, those thoughts would not be particularly nat- 
 tering to us. Were you not thinking," she continued, 
 " that the Eastern ladies are a strange compound of 
 sense and nonsense ?" 
 
 " I am sorry to disappoint you, ladies," replied Mr. 
 Everett, " but really my reflections had not assumed 
 so distinct a form, nor were they upon so fair sub- 
 jects. I was thinking how very tired I was !" 
 
 "I can sympathize with you in that," said Esther, 
 " and propose a return to the house." 
 
 " Agreed," said Emily ; and the trio proceeded 
 slowly homeward. 
 
 ' " And now good-night, and pleasant dreams," said 
 Mr. Everett, as they stood once more upon the piazza ; 
 and, gracefully bowing, he left them.
 
 CHAPTER XY1L 
 
 A NEW FRIEND. 
 
 SEVERAL days had slipped away, unmarked by any 
 incident ; for, as Emily said, " Life at the Springs, is 
 much like life at sea, rather monotonous ; one day 
 being a fac-simile of all the others, varied only by the 
 arrival or departure of guests, in the one case, and by 
 speaking a vessel, in the other." 
 
 Mrs. Wilton still seemed feeble, and her daughter's 
 anxious eyes watched her every movement ; at times 
 the vague fear that her mother might die, made her 
 sick at heart, but she banished the thought at once, as 
 if with it, she could expel the danger. One day in 
 particular, Mrs. Wilton had been unusually weak and 
 prostrated, and Margaret had been untiring in trying 
 to relieve her, till at evening her mother insisted that 
 she was much better, and that her child should walk 
 out a while. Margaret could not restrain her grief, 
 but going to her chamber, she buried her throbbing 
 temples in the pillow and wept bitterly. Soon con- 
 trolling herself however, she started for a walk to the 
 spring, as she had promised to do ; but as she came to 
 the little bridge over which she must pass, a sudden 
 faintness caused her to lean for support against the
 
 'A NEW FRIEND. 185 
 
 railing. The moonlight fell upon her features, which 
 were deathly pale ; every thing seemed whirling 
 about, her, and she would have fallen, had not a gen- 
 tleman, who was walking by, caught her in his arms. 
 The fresh spring water, which he plentifully showered 
 upon her, soon revived her, and Mr. Mclntyre, for it 
 was he, offered to assist her to the house. 
 
 She looked at him in surprise, but accepted his 
 offered arm. Her glance of astonishment had not es- 
 caped his notice, and he asked, " Am I then so differ- 
 ent from all the rest of the world, that the most com- 
 mon act of humanity is received with amazement? 
 Do not deny it," he went on hurriedly. " You won- 
 dered that I should perform so trifling an act of kind- 
 ness." 
 
 " You mistake," replied Mrs. Hastings, " I did, no 
 doubt, appear surprised, but it was because I had not 
 expected to see you here, or to receive such timely 
 assistance." She glanced at him and saw his lip 
 curled as if he deemed her ^deceiving him, and she 
 added, " I have heard too that you were a woman- 
 hater, and have always supposed that one of that class 
 would almost scorn to do a service to one of the de- 
 spised race." 
 
 "A woman-hater!" repeated Mr. Mclntyre, 
 musingly ; " so they call me by that title, do they ? 
 But they mistake, Mrs. Hastings 1 am not. No. I 
 admire and love a true, noble-hearted woman; not 
 such painted butterflies as flutter around the brilliantly 
 lighted apartments of fashionable life, but a true 
 woman anywhere, no matter if in a log cabin, I re-
 
 186 NOW-A-DAY3. 
 
 spect and honor. Ah ! but it is a hard task to find 
 one," he went on. " The wise man never spoke more 
 truly than when he exclaimed, ' One man among a 
 thousand have I found, but a woman among all these 
 have I not found.' " 
 
 " I do not feel well enough to-night, to defend my 
 sex from such sweeping censure," replied Margaret, 
 " but tell me what you allege against us as our great- 
 est fault ; perhaps I may undeceive you." 
 
 " A want of truth," returned Mr. Mclntyre. " Even 
 from a child, a subterfuge comes most readily to a 
 woman's lips." 
 
 "This may be the result of her timidity, if such is 
 the case, which I am not prepared to admit." 
 
 " I think you must admit it," replied Mr. Mclntyre, 
 " if you notice your companions. How many evasive 
 answers, equivocations, nay, downright falsehoods, 
 pass a woman's lips daily ! Yes, her very life is a 
 lie. Excuse me, but was it not your first impulse to 
 tell me but half the tnjth to-night, which is almost a 
 lie. You are offended," he said, as Margaret colored 
 and remained silent. 
 
 "By no means," she quickly replied. "It is the 
 part of a friend to tell us our faults-; and I shall hope 
 to show you, that you have judged woman too harshly 
 from a few individuals." 
 
 "I shall be glad to be undeceived," replied her 
 companion, " but when I see such a state of society 
 as now exists, and hear so much of the hollow jingle 
 of unfelt compliments, it will be a hard task to con- 
 vince me, I fear."
 
 A NEW FRIEND. 187 
 
 " Nevertheless I shall try it, and if I succeed in so 
 difficult an undertaking, the greater will be the glory 
 of my victory. Many thanks for your kind assistance, 
 Mr. Mclntyre," she added, as they parted at the hall 
 door. 
 
 " How pale you look !" exclaimed Esther, as Mar- 
 garet entered the chamber. " What has happened ? 
 It cannot be that your mother is worse ? I left her 
 sleeping quietly a few minutes since." 
 
 " No, nothing of the sort," replied Margaret. " I 
 am suifering from one of my usual headaches and 
 feel a little faint ; indeed I do not know as I could 
 have walked up the hill, had not Mr. Mclntyre sup- 
 ported me." 
 
 " Mr. Mclntyre !" ejaculated Esther, " that is a won- 
 der indeed, but do let me bathe your poor head with 
 cold water," and she smoothed Margaret's soft hair 
 lovingly and bathed her fevered brow. 
 
 Emily Sidney was sitting the same evening with 
 her aunt Carroll. " Oh, dear Aunty !" she exclaimed, 
 " hav'nt you nearly finished your long lecture on pro- 
 priety? Now do be good and smile one of your own 
 smiles, and let's talk about something else." 
 
 " That's always your way, Emily," returned Mrs. 
 Carroll ; " you always manage to turn off all my re- 
 bukes; but really I do not like your habit of making 
 acquaintances, without first finding out who they are, 
 and I must protest against it. I despise the way that 
 so many of these young girls have, of dancing and 
 flirting with every gentleman who comes near them."
 
 
 188 NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 " That you can't accuse me of," said Emily. 
 
 " No, my dear, I should hope not," replied Mrs. 
 Carroll, " but you must remember that ' an ounce of 
 prevention is worth a pound of cure.' " 
 
 " But, Aunt Carroll, I am sure that Mrs. Beck, on 
 whose account I have had this long address, is a lady, 
 and very agreeable, and what do I care if she is not 
 wealthy or of an old family, for from what I can 
 gather from your remarks, persons possessed of such 
 qualifications are to be my only associates ; and I 
 must say that I prefer good company without these 
 accessions, to stupid people of wealth and fashion." 
 
 "Don't talk nonsense, Em. These school-girl no- 
 tions of yours will wear off, I trust, in time, and now 
 you may read aloud to me, if you will." 
 
 " What shall I read ? Shall it be Pendennis ?" 
 
 "Oh! I don't ca/e what,'' replied Mrs. Carroll; 
 " any thing will do. I'm rather wakeful to-night, and 
 nothing helps me to sleep so soon, as reading aloud." 
 
 " It would keep me awake," said Emily, " but I 
 will do as you request." 
 
 She had not, however, read more than a page or 
 two, when the regular breathing of her listener proved 
 that the dose had been successful, and with a smile, 
 Emily laid aside her book. 
 
 Several weeks passed on, during which time, Mr. 
 Wilton had returned to his business, and Mr. Mclntyre 
 had attached himself to the party, proving, when he 
 chose to exhibit his powers of pleasing, to be a very 
 agreeable companion. He had received Mrs. Carroll's
 
 A NEW FRIEND. 189 
 
 sanction, after a long consultation with several ladies, 
 who informed her that he was of unexceptionable 
 family, and very wealthy. Mrs. Wilton was much 
 better, and joined frequently in the walks and rides 
 which diversified the monotony of life at the Springs.
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 SECOND LOVE. 
 
 IT was evening Margaret was standing upon the 
 piazza, leaning against one of its wooden pillars. 
 She had been listening to the gay conversation of 
 Mrs. Carroll, Emily and Esther, who were sur- 
 rounded by a group of admirers Mr. Everett conspic- 
 uous among the number but now the conversation 
 had slackened : some of the circle had retired to the 
 piano, to listen to the sweet voice of Esther, as she 
 sung a simple melody ; while others had entered a 
 smaller parlor to play checkers, backgammom, cards, 
 and the like games. The windows were open, and 
 the rattling of dice, mingled with gay laughter, fell 
 on Margaret's ear ; she, however, did not appear to 
 share the universal gayety. Her fine eyes were filled 
 with a sad light, and her whole attitude was listless 
 and depressed. It was evident that her thoughts 
 were far away. She started suddenly, as if recalled 
 from a reverie, as Mr. Mclntyre, who had approached 
 her unobserved, addressed her. "Are you building 
 bright castles in the air, Mrs. Hastings ?" he asked, 
 " if so, I am sorry thus rudely to call you back to 
 earth ; but no," he continued, " if I misjudge not,
 
 SECOND LOVE. 191 
 
 your reverie was far from pleasant ; but why should 
 you be sad, in the bloom of health and happiness, 
 surrounded by troops of friends, as you are ?" 
 
 " True," replied Margaret, " yet how long can all 
 this last ? Perhaps I was brooding over some of your 
 misanthropical teachings realizing that all is ' vanity 
 and vexation of spirit,' thinking of loved friends 
 now lost to me, and of dear ones who might soon 
 follow," and involuntarily her glance rested on her 
 mourning dress. 
 
 " But your heart is not buried with the dead ; it 
 was not of your late husband, you thought," returned 
 her companion. 
 
 A flood of crimson rushed over Margaret's cheeks, 
 neck and brow, as she exclaimed, " this is too much ! 
 You presume too far, Mr. Mclntyre, on my friend- 
 ship." 
 
 "Forgive me," he replied, "for my presumption in 
 thus addressing you. It is a habit of mine to give 
 expression to my true thoughts I have always found 
 it offensive in society, and unable or unwilling to use 
 words to conceal my opinions, I have withdrawn 
 myself from it, until in you, I fancied that I had 
 found a friend, who would be willing to receive my 
 blunt words as they were meant, kindly I thank 
 you for the few hours of happiness which you have 
 shed over my desolate life, even if that pleasure can 
 exist now, only in the past, since by my presumption 
 I have forfeited my claims to your regard." He 
 turned abruptly away, but Mrs. Hastings recalled 
 him.
 
 192 NOW-A-DAT8. 
 
 " Let me then tell you that truth, which you pride 
 yourself so much upon always speaking perhaps you 
 may find it as unpalatable as your friends : You are 
 too impetuous, too ready to take offence where none 
 is intended ; very apt to say disagreeable things in a 
 disagreeable way, and then expect poor human nature 
 to receive them, without wincing. There are some 
 home-truths for you," she said, smiling, " and now, 
 don't you agree with the rest of humanity, that the 
 whole truth is too much of a good thing ?" 
 
 " No," returned Mr. Mclntyre, " from you I can 
 receive what perhaps, I confess, from others I might 
 resent, and under your guidance, if you would curb 
 such a wayward and impetuous nature, I might 
 become very much changed." 
 
 " I fear that you over estimate my ability to check 
 the faults of others ; I find it far easier to discover 
 deficiencies and positive errors in myself and in my 
 friends, than to correct them, in either case." 
 
 " In other words, you would tell me, Mrs. Hastings, 
 that you- have not sufficient interest in me, to induce 
 you to undertake such an uninviting task, and that I 
 must be to you only one of your common acquaint- 
 ances, remembered, if at all, as a singular and rather 
 melancholy man. Yet I have hoped for a higher 
 place than this, in your regard," he continued, " and 
 though what I am about to say to you may seem 
 abrupt, yet I will say it : I love you, Margaret, and 
 have sought your affection in return I know that it 
 would have been more in harmony with the usages 
 of society, if I had allowed a longer time to pass
 
 SECOND LOVE. 193 
 
 before telling you of ray feelings, but I am not 
 shackled by such fetters. You know much of my 
 history ; left an orphan, and my fondest hopes 
 betrayed by false friends, I have led a lonely life ; but 
 now, if your love can be mine, a bright future is in 
 store for me if not, I can but go on my desolate way 
 as before." 
 
 He paused for a reply, but Margaret made none. 
 "You do not reply how am I to interpret your 
 silence?" he asked, after some little time. 
 
 Margaret's eyes were filled with tears, as she raised 
 them slowly to his face, and replied, " I have a long 
 story to tell you ; when you have heard it, you may 
 not think of me as you now do." 
 
 " I feel sure that nothing could change my senti- 
 ments," he replied, " but when will you tell me this 
 tale?" 
 
 " To-night let us walk a while, to avoid inquisitive 
 eyes ; in the meantime I will tell you all." 
 
 Mrs. Hastings took her companion's offered arm, 
 and in a low, broken voice, told him the story of her 
 first love, and of her marriage. Mr. Mclntyre's ex- 
 pressive countenance betrayed a variety of emotions, 
 as she went on, but she did not look at him till she 
 had finished, when she said, " now, I have told you 
 all do you not despise me, as I do myself?" 
 " No, Margaret,'' was the reply, while his eyes 
 were bent upon her with a glance of affection, " your 
 second love is more precious to me, than the first of 
 any other woman. Can you give it to me ?" 
 
 The hand which he had taken in his, was not with- 
 9
 
 194 NOW A-DATS. 
 
 drawn, and as she returned his gaze, Mr. Mclntvre 
 was satisfied. 
 
 They walked on for a few moments in silence when, 
 observing that Margaret had no shawl on, her com- 
 panion proposed a return to the house ; " I must be 
 careful of my newly found treasure," he said, "lest 
 it escape me even now, I fear that like the fairy 
 gifts, it may vanish in the morning." 
 
 " There is no danger of that, it is of quite too sub- 
 stantial a nature," replied Margaret, as she bade her 
 friend good-night, and hastened to her chamber. She 
 had not been long there when Esther entered, " You 
 here already !'' she exclaimed, on seeing her step- 
 mother, " I hope you have not another of your head- 
 aches ! How thoughtless in me to spend the whole 
 evening in gayety, while you have been suffering 
 here!" 
 
 " Don't reproach yourself too soon, Esther," said 
 Margaret, with a.smile, "but let me tell you how I 
 have passed my time." 
 
 Esther listened in amazement to Margaret's recital 
 of her engagement to Mr. Mclntyre, then in a low 
 voice said, " But what of Arthur Hammond ? Did 
 you tell Mr. Mclntyre ?" 
 
 " Oh, Esther !" exclaimed Margaret, much pained, 
 " could you think that I would wrong another noble 
 man, by not telling him all, or by marrying him 
 when I loved another ?" 
 
 " Then you have ceased to love Arthur !" 
 
 " Thank Heavens, yes !" replied Margaret ; " I have 
 not yet told you, though I have several times been on
 
 SECOND LOVE. 195 
 
 the point of it ; that not long since, I met Arthur 
 again. To my surprise and delight, I found that my 
 feelings were entirely changed towards him. I saw 
 plainly, that if my wild and varying temperament 
 would have annoyed him, that his rigid ideas would 
 have no less tormented me. In fact, that he was as 
 far from being perfect as I myself; and I really felt 
 relieved to think that I was not his wife. I have 
 wanted to tell you this before, but the truth was, Es- 
 ther, I was a little ashamed, after the strong expres- 
 sions that I had used about him, to you, to own that 
 the idol had fallen. I believe that every woman has 
 one ardent attachment for some one, unlike what she 
 ever feels for another ; but I am by no means sure 
 that it is best for her to marry the object of it. Mr. 
 Mclntyre, I not only esteem, but love. I think we 
 are suited to each other, aud I feel sure that I can 
 make him happy, and anticipate no less happiness 
 myself. This isn't a very romantic view of the sub- 
 ject." she added, as Esther stood in silence loosening 
 her abundant hair, " but it is the true one, I think." 
 
 " Perhaps so," replied Esther, thoughtfully, " at all 
 events, I wish you all possible happiness with the 
 man of your choice." 
 
 A few days after this conversation, as Margaret 
 and Esther were seated in their room, Margaret 
 reading aloud, while Esther sat sewing, and Mrs. 
 Wilton leaning back in a rocking-chair, with her thin 
 hands folded, listened to her daughter's reading, an 
 accomplishment in which she excelled, a light rap 
 was heard at the door, and Emily Sidney entered.
 
 196 NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 " I have just received a letter from home," she said, 
 " and Mr. Templeton is coming to-day, to spend a 
 few days here, and then going to take aunt Carroll 
 and me home. To tell the truth, I am glad of it, for 
 I am tired of staying here." 
 
 " Who is Mr. Templeton ?" asked Mrs. Wilton. 
 
 "A friend of father's," replied Emily, slightly 
 blushing. 
 
 " And of the daughter also, I suspect," said Mrs. 
 Wilton. 
 
 " Certainly. He has always been a great friend of 
 our family, and I think you will like him. Aunt 
 Carroll thinks him perfect, and you and she agree so 
 well on most points, that I think it probable you will 
 be united in this." 
 
 " I'm glad to hear of a new arrival, who promises 
 to be an addition to our party," exclaimed Margaret, 
 " for I am tired of seeing new faces that tell the same 
 story of insipidity, and seeing people whose only 
 object or use in life, seems to be the wearing of hand- 
 some silks and jewelry." 
 
 " In short," added Esther, " you are tired of the 
 Springs, since one great attraction, Mr. Mclntyre, has 
 left them. At least, since his -departure, you have 
 suddenly had your eyes very widely opened to the 
 fact, that the people here are very much as they 
 have been ever since we came here, good, but slightly 
 common-place individuals." 
 
 " No matter what has cleared my vision," replied 
 Margaret, laughing, " the fact remains the same ; and
 
 SECOND LOVE. 197 
 
 I propose that we leave here, when Mrs. Carroll and 
 Emily do." 
 
 " I am delighted to hear you say so," replied her mo- 
 ther ; " I shall be glad to get home again, to have 
 a decent-sized room ; and, in fact, to have comforts 
 once more I will go and write to your father now," 
 she continued, as she entered her room. 
 
 The day wore slowly away to Emily ; but five 
 o'clock did come at last, bringing with it the stage, 
 and a load of passengers, among whom was Mr. 
 Templeton. 
 
 " Really a very fine looking man," said Margaret, 
 in an under tone, to Esther, after both had been in- 
 troduced ; and he had passed on to a seat, by the side 
 of Mrs. Carroll, who seemed determined to monopo- 
 lize him. " He looks as if he knew something. I won- 
 der what he sees in Emily to fancy. See what a con- 
 trast between his fine, intellectual face, and her plea- 
 sant, but far from intelligent countenance. 
 
 " Oh, there is no accounting for tastes," replied Es- 
 ther ; " and I have always heard that intellectual men 
 prefer a simple-hearted and affectionate woman, like 
 our dear Em, to any one suspected of being blue." 
 
 " I know," answered Margaret, " that such men 
 usually prefer a humble worshipper to a woman 
 who, while she honors their excellencies, sees also 
 their deficiencies." 
 
 " But do you not think these worshippers, as you 
 call them, better calculated than the other class to 
 make home happy for their husbands?" asked Esther. 
 
 " No," replied Margaret ; " the quiet, simple home
 
 198 NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 virtues may please them for a while ; but they will 
 soon tire of them, unless acccompanied by the power 
 of appreciating their higher nature. Every man 
 wants sympathy in his most engrossing pursuits, and 
 so does every woman. How can they find it, if the 
 thoughts of the one never go beyond the four walls 
 of her dwelling, while the other is of far-reaching 
 and comprehensive mind !" 
 
 " I agree with you," returned Esther, " that in such 
 cases, there must be unhappiness, unless there is an 
 abundance of that love that covereth all deficiencies ; 
 but happily Emily is not such a being as you describe. 
 She is a true woman kind, loving, and intelligent ; 
 and I wonder that you do not value her as highly as 
 I do." 
 
 " Don't ask impossibilities, Ettie ; I do like her 
 very well, but I can't see her with your eyes. There, 
 poor Mr. Templeton has at last escaped from Mrs. 
 Carroll ; I doubt not, to his great relief," continued 
 Margaret, and as she spoke, Emily and her lover 
 joined them. He was indeed, as Margaret had said, 
 a fine-looking man, though his strongly-marked fea- 
 tures could by no means be called handsome. He 
 was apparently about thirty-five years of age. His 
 voice was deep and clear, and though he said but 
 little, his remarks were always to the point. 
 
 " Whatever he says means something," remarked 
 Margaret, "which is more than can be said, with 
 truth, of the generality of people." 
 
 It was now the day before the departure of their 
 party from the Springs, and all necessary arrange-
 
 SKCOND LOVE. 199 
 
 ments had been made. Esther and Emily had made 
 their farewell visits to their favorite haunts, and now 
 ' sat together for their last chat, at twilight. 
 
 " You will be sure to come and make me a long 
 visit, this winter, won't you, Esther ?" were the part- 
 ing words of Emily, and as her friend replied " I will, 
 if I possibly can," she insisted, " 'where there's a will, 
 there's a way,' and I shall expect you." 
 
 Good-nights were exchanged, and Esther retired to 
 her chamber. Margaret, sitting by the window, was 
 dreaming pleasant day-dreams, she was holding an 
 open letter in her hand, the first she had received 
 from Horace Mclntyre. 
 
 "How bright the world seems to me !" she said, as 
 Esther knelt by her side, caressing her, " It is so 
 pleasant, I fear that it will not last ; my mother's 
 health so much improved ; both of my parents so 
 well pleased with Horace, and his love for me so 
 ardent ; I am happy, indeed !" 
 
 "Yes, dear Margaret," replied Esther, " you are 
 indeed blessed ; but forget not who is the author of 
 all this, and do not bestow your whole heart on the 
 gifts look up to the Giver, in Heaven " 
 
 \Iargaret interrupted Esther with a kiss, and made 
 no reply. It was always thus, when she was reminded 
 of her duty to the Father of all ; on this one subject 
 she was unapproachable, and met all of Esther's 
 attempts at such conversations with impenetrable 
 reserve.
 
 CHAPTEK XIX. 
 
 SECOND MAREIAGE. 
 
 " GOOD-MORNING, Maggie, dear !" said Mrs. Wilton, 
 entering the little breakfast-room, where Mrs. Hastings 
 was singing and chirping to her pet canary bird, 
 " doesn't it seem delightful to be at home once more ?" 
 
 "Charming," replied Margaret, at the same time 
 giving Bobby a lump of sugar, and, ringing the bell, 
 ordered breakfast. 
 
 Mr. Wilton and Esther now entered, and ex- 
 changing morning salutations, took their seats at the 
 table. 
 
 I had no idea that Newton was so pretty a place," 
 said Esther, as she sipped her coffee, "I have been 
 looking out of my chamber window for a long time ; 
 there is such a fine view from it, o~f the quiet lake, 
 shining through the trees." 
 
 " That is only one of the thousand attractions of 
 Newton," replied Mr. Wilton ; " Margaret must show 
 you all its charms." 
 
 " I fully intend it, sir," returned his daughter, " I 
 assure you it shall be no fault of mine, if any nook in 
 the woods around remains unexplored."
 
 SECOND MAKBIAGE. 201 
 
 " I hope you'll enjoy yourselves finely, to-day," said 
 Mr. Wilton, at the same time looking at his watch, 
 and remarking that it was nearly time for the cars to 
 start, he hurried off. 
 
 Newton was a small town, not far from Boston, and 
 one of the loveliest spots in that vicinity. 
 
 Mr. Wilton's residence was a fine one, situated on 
 a sloping spot of ground, surrounded by fine trees, 
 and a tastefully arranged garden ; arbors covered with 
 vines clustering with grapes, were scattered invitingly 
 through the grounds ; and here Margaret and Esther 
 spent a large portion of their time, arranging flowers, 
 reading, sewing, or indulging in a favorite amusement 
 of both, building air-castles. Thus, several weeks 
 passed ; Mr. Mclntyre was daily expected to visit 
 them, and Esther began to feel that she ought to be 
 " up and doing," again. 
 
 " I have two letters to show you," she said, as Mar- 
 garet and she were sitting alone, on one of the shaded 
 seats in the garden " One is from our good Mr. 
 Merrill, telling me of a very lucrative situation, as 
 assistant teacher in an Academy, which I can have 
 by applying soon ; and the other from no less a person 
 than our watering-place acquaintance, Mr. Everett, 
 in which he does me the honor of placing his hand, 
 heart, and fortune at my disposal." 
 
 " Really !" exclaimed Margaret, " and what reply 
 shall you make?'' 
 
 "What is your advice?" asked Esther "Do you 
 who take such practical views on the subject of mar- 
 riage, advise me to get married for a home and good
 
 202 NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 living, or to accept Mr. Merrill's offer of the situation 
 as teacher?" 
 
 " I advise you to do neither," replied Margaret, 
 "but can't you make yourself believe that you are a 
 very little just a wee bit in love with Mr. Everett?" 
 
 " No, Maggie, that is beyond my powers of imagi- 
 nation, and romantic, if you chose to call me, still it 
 is my firm resolve, never to give my hand without my 
 heart ; and I shall never venture on the perilous ex- 
 periment of marrying without ardent affection, in the 
 vain hope that it will come after the ceremony is 
 performed, which ties me for life to some good man." 
 
 " You are right," replied her step-mother, after a 
 pause, " but don't think of putting yourself into the 
 bondage of school-teaching immediately; I shall 
 insist on your remaining with me till I am married ; 
 I want your good taste in preparing my wardrobe, 
 and I want you for my bridesmaid now, don't say 
 no : I won't listen to it, if you do. For once, let me 
 have my own way." 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Wilton united in the urgent request, 
 that she would stay with them, and it was arranged 
 that she should remain an inmate of their family 
 until Margaret left them. 
 
 "Yet, I cannot help feeling dependent," said Esther 
 to Margaret, "and I assure you, it is by no means a 
 pleasant feeling." 
 
 " It is a very foolish one for a daughter to have in 
 her father's house," was Margaret's reply ; "but now 
 go and answer your letters, my dear, and be careful 
 that you don't break poor Mr. Everett's heart."
 
 SECOM) MAUKIAGK. 203 
 
 " Never fear that, Maggie ; no man ever died of 
 that disease, in my opinion, unless a fever or some 
 similar malady came in to carry him off. I never 
 had the vanity to think my charms were powerful 
 enough to cause such a disaster, at least." 
 
 " Ah ! you are a hard-hearted little thing !" retorted 
 Margaret, as she left her friend in the library with 
 pen, ink and paper before her. 
 
 Mr. Mclntyre soon arrived, and it was settled that 
 the marriage should take place in November, as 
 the year of Margaret's widowhood had then expired. 
 
 Margaret appeared, as she said she was, very happy. 
 The light of happiness sparkled in her dark eye ; her 
 step was elastic, her cheek gained new bloom, and 
 her form new roundness. 
 
 " I shall at least make one sad heart glad," she said 
 to Esther, after she had communicated to her some of 
 her many plans for the future. " I am determined 
 that Horace shall at length know what a happy home 
 is." 
 
 November, stormy and sullen, came on, stripping 
 the leaves ruthlessly from the trees, and howling 
 winds sounded through the dry and bare branches. 
 But a clear day dawned upon Newton, on the ap- 
 pointed time for Margaret's nuptials. 
 
 Very beautiful she looked in her simple travelling 
 costume, as she pronounced the vows that united her 
 with one she loved, and though tears filled her eyes 
 on parting with her friends, they were not bitter 
 ones. 
 
 The house seemed very lonely after the departure
 
 204: NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 of the newly- wedded pair ; they missed Margaret's 
 sweet songs, her merry laugh, her cheerful conversa- 
 tion ; and, more than all, her mother missed the ready 
 hand that anticipated her every wish. 
 
 Esther could not be spared, Mrs. Wilton said. " Do 
 not take both my children from me !" she exclaimed 
 almost imploringly when she proposed leaving, and 
 Esther promised that she would defer it for the pre- 
 sent at least. 
 
 The stars, one by one, were coming out in the clear 
 heavens, but the wind was cold and chill, as Marga- 
 ret and her husband approached their journey's end. 
 
 Margaret leaned from the carriage window, gazing 
 ont at the dreary faded landscape, but oftener her 
 eyes sought the starry heavens, as if she would read 
 there her own future ; very pleasant visions she saw 
 there, for our own hearts are almost always cheerful 
 prophets if we question them of the misty days to 
 come. 
 
 Horace cared for neither stars or prophecies. He 
 read in Margaret's eyes her happiness, and his own 
 was complete. He did not for a long time intrude on 
 her pleasant reverie, but at last, as the carriage en- 
 tered a rocky defile, which, in summer when crowned 
 with trees and mantled with vines might have been 
 picturesque, but now was almost gloomy, he spoke 
 " Margaret ! we are almost home !" 
 
 The word thrilled through her heart ; it summoned 
 an actual present before her that was brighter than any 
 ideal picture in the future, and with loving eyes she 
 drew closer to her husband and pressed his hand
 
 SECOND MARRIAGE. 205 
 
 fondly, then leaned again from the window to gaze 
 on her new home. 
 
 An avenue led up to it, where now only skeleton 
 branches stiffly swayed in the cold night wind, and 
 the paths that wound through the extensive grounds 
 covered with dry leaves, that had lost their autumnal 
 beauty, looked desolate enough. 
 
 The house was a quaint looking brown building, 
 not quite coming under the denomination of a cottage, 
 yet not large enough to deserve any other title. It 
 was built in a fanciful style, not according to any 
 strict architectural rules perhaps, but yet giving a 
 favorable impression to the beholder. It had several 
 wings, which, though irregular, were not unpleasing, 
 and in summer, when the pillars that surrounded a 
 part of the house were in all the glory of vines, and 
 the trees which now tossed their branches heavily 
 against the walls only rustled their leaves in playful 
 whispers, it must have been a charming spot. 
 
 It did not look dreary to Margaret even now, and 
 so she assured Horace, when he made a remark of 
 that kind, and the explanation why it did not, which 
 her eyes gave as she said gently, "Is it not our 
 home ?" more than satisfied him of her truthfulness. 
 
 He led her first into the parlor, a high-walled room, 
 furnished in just the way that thousands of parlors 
 are, rejoicing in the same carpets, curtains, mirrors, 
 and furniture. 
 
 " This, Margaret," said her husband, " is for all the 
 world, and must be like all the world. Throw off 
 your bonnet now, and come with me."
 
 206 NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 He led her through a winding passage to another 
 room. There was but one bay window in it, and the 
 walls were lined with books. 
 
 " Our library ! How charming!" exclaimed Mar- 
 garet, as she flew up to the w T ell-filled cases and 
 glanced at the the books. 
 
 A centre table, piled with uncut periodicals, stood 
 before the bright fire that blazed on the hearth, mak- 
 ing all kinds of fantastic shapes on the polished brass 
 of the andirons. 
 
 Two or three paintings, an Evangeline, a holy, 
 beautiful face, a quiet landscape, and a wierd looking 
 sybil, adorned the walls, and statuettes occupied 
 niches in the room. 
 
 There was a lounge placed in the window, and 
 easy chairs were scattered in the room; a stained 
 glass window on the other side of the fireplace Mar- 
 garet approached. 
 
 "That is a door which leads into my sanctum," 
 said her husband, who had been enjoying with plea- 
 sure equal to his wife's her restless flutter! ngs to and 
 fro, like a butterfly flitting from flower to flower, and 
 her eager expressions of delight. 
 
 He opened the door as he spoke, and disclosed a 
 small room, from the ceiling of which hung a silver 
 lamp. It was lighted now only by the dim firelight 
 from the library, but Margaret saw that its dark oaken 
 walls were unadorned, and that it possessed none of 
 the beauties which she had imagined to be there. 
 
 " What did you ever do in this gloomy place, that 
 it deserves the name of your sanctum ?" she asked,
 
 SECOND MARRIAGE. 207 
 
 " Chewed the bitter cud of fancy," her husband re- 
 plied. " Here I have cursed myself, the world, and 
 all that is in it." 
 
 " Well, Horace, that is past. It shall now be our 
 sanctum. It shall have paintings, statuary, birds and 
 flowers placed in it; it shall resound with laughter, 
 and gay forms shall be reflected on the polished sur- 
 face of its old oaken walls. It shall be sacred to you 
 and I now. We will sit here, and you shall read to 
 me, and I will sing to you, and we will talk, till you 
 have expiated, in thankfulness for life, all the curses 
 that you have bestowed upon it. Shall it not be so ?" 
 she asked, placing her hand on his shoulder and look- 
 into his eyes. A warm embrace was his only reply, 
 as he led his wife from the library into that which he 
 informed her was her own sitting-room. 
 
 It was a quaintly-furnished room, filled with old- 
 fashioned, stiffly-carved furniture, fancifully arranged. 
 A piano stood there, and Margaret ran her fingers 
 over the keys, and sang a glad melody. 
 
 "How do you like your room?" asked her hus- 
 band. 
 
 " Oh, ever so much ; but I hall* expect to see some 
 old lady, with hoop and powdered hair, come sailing 
 majestically in to tell me that I am an intruder. Don't 
 the shades of the past linger here ?" 
 
 " If they do," replied her husband, " you must ex- 
 orcise them by your merry laugh, and by the chat of 
 mortals. You may fill the room as often as you will 
 with troops of living, and crowd out the dead." 
 
 " No, Horace, this room shall be sacred to my dear-
 
 208 NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 est friends. The parlor for the world, as you said, 
 the sanctum for us, and this for my other loved ones. 
 Come, now, I want to see the rest of the house," and 
 she ran up the broad staircase and commented with 
 eagerness on the beauty of all she saw. 
 
 The dining-room and kitchen did not pass unno- 
 ticed, but Margaret insisted that for this once the 
 library should serve for a tea-room. 
 
 " This is all mine !" said she, drawing a low stool 
 to her husband's side as they again entered the 
 library, and though it was not more elegant than the 
 home which Mr. Hastings had given her, love made 
 it seem doubly so, as the sunlight which streams into 
 a dark room lends a fleeting glory to all within it. 
 
 Margaret was perfectly happy, and her gayety ex- 
 pressed itself in a thousand fantastical ways, on all of 
 which Horace looked with admiration. 
 
 She would insist on toasting his bread before the 
 library fire, and declared that she would show him 
 that her will was to be law in that house. 
 
 " I am willing," replied her husband. " I abdicate 
 in your favor." 
 
 " Hem ember that, now ; I shall remind you of it 
 some time," she said jestingly, "-when you are in- 
 clined to play the lord and master." 
 
 So they talked on gaily, and absorbed in each other, 
 they hardly thought of other friends. 
 
 'Tis even so. Love is at first selfish, for it is so all- 
 absorbing that it swallows up, lite an overflowing 
 river, all that lies in its way ; yet when it subsides in 
 part, and flows in its true channel once more, a
 
 SECOND MARRIAGE. 209 
 
 deeper, calmer current, is not the heart enriched by 
 the deluge ? And do not olden affections spring up 
 with renewed strength and verdure ? 
 
 Let us leave them in their new-found happiness, 
 and glance at Newton again. 
 
 " Here, Miss Ettie, is a letter for you !" said Mr. 
 Wilton, a few days after Margaret's departure ; as she 
 opened it a piece of paper fell fluttering to her feet. 
 It was a check for five hundred dollars, purporting to 
 come from one of her father's debtors, lent to him, as 
 he said, at a time of great need by her father, and 
 now that he was able to pay it, he sent it to the daugh- 
 ter. 
 
 " What shall I do with it ?" asked Esther, handing 
 both letter and check to Mr. Wilton. " Ought it not 
 to go to the creditors ?" 
 
 " No," replied Mr. Wilton. " Your father's busi- 
 ness being all settled, it belongs of right to you." 
 
 "It has come at a very opportune time," said 
 Esther, " and is another exemplification of the truth 
 of the passage, ' Cast thy bread upon the waters, and 
 thou shalt find it after many days.' " 
 
 As she left the room Mrs. Wilton asked her hus- 
 band if he had any idea whence it came, and as he 
 smiled, she exclaimed, " I suspected you." 
 
 " Is it not true that Mr. Hastings was the means of 
 my getting on my feet once more after my failure ? 
 It is a debt I can never repay," said her husband with 
 much feeling, " and Esther is too delicate to receive 
 any thing of the sort voluntarily." 
 
 " It was just like you, ever considerate and thought-
 
 210 NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 ful," replied Mrs. Wilton, and the subject was drop- 
 ped as Esther re-entered the room. 
 
 Winter had come, bringing with it the long eve- 
 nings so pleasant in the home circle. The hours flew 
 rapidly by with Esther, for her time was fully occu- 
 pied ; she felt, too, that her presence was of use to 
 both her adopted parents. She was a sunbeam in 
 the house, both said, and their encomiums upon her, 
 in their letters to Margaret, were so warm, that 
 she replied, "If it were not Esther,*! should be 
 jealous." 
 
 Mr. Wilton had insisted on her learning to play the 
 harp, and the necessary practice, to enable her- to 
 make any proficiency, together with the opportunity 
 which Mr. Wilton's fine library afforded her of grati- 
 fying her love for reading, added not a little to her 
 
 " What are you pondering upon so earnestly ?" 
 asked Mrs. Wilton, as they sat together one morning. 
 
 " I was thinking of Emily Sidney," replied Esther. 
 
 " When did you hear from her last ?" 
 
 " Yesterday," was the reply. " She urged me to 
 come and visit her, as Maria and Virginia, two old 
 schoolmates, are coming, and insists on seeing me." 
 
 " But why do you hesitate to accept the invitation ?" 
 
 " I cannot leave you alone, mother dear," replied 
 Esther. 
 
 " If that is the only obstacle, my child, it is one 
 very easily removed. Horace has just written a line 
 to Mr. Wilton, saying that he was obliged to go South
 
 SECOND MAKRIAGE. 211 
 
 on business, and that Margaret is coming home mean- 
 while." 
 
 " Then I will go, if you think it best," returned Es- 
 ther, "and will write Emily that she may expect 
 me."
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 DOWN-EAST AGAIN. 
 
 "I AM so glad to see you, my dear Esther!" ex- 
 claimed Emily Sidney, as she assisted her friend to 
 free herself from her many wrappings. " I knew that 
 winter was a poor time to visit our quiet little Bel- 
 fast ; but, as Virginia and Maria were coming, I 
 hoped it would be pleasant enough to make you forget 
 our cold Maine winters." 
 
 " Remember, too, that I am a Down-East girl," re- 
 plied Esther, " and. not at all afraid of the cold wea- 
 ther. In fact, winter is my favorite season. I am 
 delighted to see a good sparkling wood fire again," 
 she added, approaching the hearth, and warming her 
 cold hands. "But are you alone 2" she asked, oil- 
 serving that there was no one else present. 
 
 " Yes ; all of the family have gone to the Lyceum, 
 except grandma and myself. I had a presentiment 
 that you would come to-night. But let us go to 
 grandma's room, for I left the good old lady alone, 
 and I ought to stay with her." 
 
 Esther followed Emily through the long entry, up 
 a flight of winding stairs, to the room which she had 
 designated as grandmother's. The house was an old-
 
 DOWN EAST AGAIN. 213 
 
 fashioned one, but very large and comfortable in its 
 appearance. The room which they entered was wide, 
 but rather low. Old Mrs. Sidney was seated in a low 
 rocking-chair, near the fire-place, where a large wood 
 fire was blazing. Near her stood a little light stand, 
 upon which lay an open Bible ; her knitting-work 
 laid in her lap, and she had evidently been reading ; 
 but, as the door opened, she pushed her spectacles up 
 on her cap, and looked curiously at Esther. She was 
 dressed in black, a small shawl was neatly folded 
 over her bosom, and her cap was tied simply under 
 her chin. A large Dutch clock stood in one corner 
 of the room ; an old-fashioned desk occupied another, 
 on which laid several books, in equally old-fashioned 
 bindings. Rocking-chairs, of various shapes and 
 sizes, with a lounge, constituted the rest of the furni- 
 ture. 
 
 A cat sat purring at the old lady's feet, looking 
 lazily at the ball of yarn, which had fallen from her 
 capacious pocket upon the hearth, in tempting prox- 
 imity to pussy ; but she, like her mistress, had grown 
 old, and her play-days were over. 
 
 All this Esther saw at a glance; for Emily ap- 
 proached her grandmother, saying, in a loud voice 
 (for the old lady was a little deaf), "This is my 
 friend, Esther Hastings ; she has just come, in the 
 stage." 
 
 Mrs. Sidney extended her hand to the new comer, 
 and looked at her curiously. " Wall, I'm glad to see 
 ye, dear. Hastings ! Hastings !" she repeated
 
 214 NOW-A-DAY6. 
 
 " Sarah Mansfield married a Hastings. Be you any 
 relation to her ?" 
 
 "That was my mother's name," replied Esther. 
 
 " Law, now, you don't say so. Why, I know'd her 
 when she wan't much older than you be. Wall, 
 you're the pictur of her. I know'd, as soon as I see 
 you, that you looked like somebody I'd seen. Wall, 
 she was a pooty gal, and a good gal, too. Set up to 
 the fire and warm you, dear," she continued ; " you 
 look cold." 
 
 Esther did as she was requested ; and, drawing her 
 low chair to the fire, looked, in her turn, rather cu- 
 riously at Mi's. Sidney. 
 
 She was a fine-looking old lady, a little bent by 
 age ; but her black eye was undimmed, and a lock of 
 hair, which had escaped from her cap, still retained 
 its jetty hue. 
 
 " I guess 111 smoke a little," she said, " and then go 
 to bed." 
 
 Her grand-daughter rose, took a pipe from a small 
 box on the end of the mantel, and, lighting it at the 
 fire, handed it to her grandmother. 
 
 The good old lady seemed to enjoy her smoke very 
 much ; and when her pipe was out,- requesting Emily 
 " to rake up the fire, so that there would be a good 
 bed of coals in the morning,'' arose, and entered her 
 bedroom, a small apartment adjoining the one where 
 they were sitting. 
 
 Emily accompanied her, and assisted her in dis- 
 robing, a work of but few minutes, and then carefully 
 covered up the fire, crossed the andirons in most ap-
 
 DOWN EAST AGAIN. 215 
 
 proved style, and laid the shovel across them, saying, 
 as she did so, "I don't know as grandmother would 
 sleep a wink to-night, if she were not sure that the 
 andirons were placed just so ; and now," said she, 
 after placing the chairs Lack in proper order, "let us 
 go down into the sitting-room, and have a cozy chat." 
 
 This was also a large, though low room, rejoicing 
 in the usual bright wood fire. It was simply but 
 comfortably furnished. A large secretary or book- 
 case stood on one side of the room, while a piano oc- 
 cupied the other. A sofa, large and wide, was placed 
 across the wall, opposite the fire. The chairs were 
 all arranged very stiffly in their places, as if one 
 would hardly venture to remove them from their re- 
 spective stations. A large centre-table occupied the 
 middle of the apartment, on which a bright solar 
 lamp stood. A few books, placed at regular distances, 
 reposing on the mahogany, were the only ornaments. 
 A little hour-glass table stood in one corner, heaped 
 with work, some of which was falling off. This was 
 the only disorderly thing in the room. Emily at once 
 set to work to remedy this ; and, folding each piece 
 separately, soon reduced it to order. 
 
 " Mother's table," said she, " is always in a litter ; 
 she isn't what you would call a particular bod) at all : 
 but aunt Mary's eyes will spy out anything. I think 
 it looks so cheerful to see everything in place, that I 
 always try to have everything in order before the 
 family come home." 
 
 Esther looked at the rigidly fixed furniture, and 
 longed to get her hands upon the different articles,
 
 216 NuW-A-DAYS. 
 
 and place them in a more comfortable position : but 
 she made no remarks, as Emily swept the hearth care- 
 fully, and lifted a refractory stick of wood into place. 
 " There," said she, throwing herself into a rocking- 
 chair, which appeared to be fixed OH a certain figure 
 of the carpet " there, all's tidy now, I believe ; and 
 now, do tell me all about Mrs. Hastings' marriage. 
 Wasn't it rather sudden ? I knew she and Mr. Mcln- 
 tyre seemed to like each other very much, but I never 
 dreamed of their becoming one flesh." 
 
 "I hear footsteps," said Esther; "and though there 
 isn't much to tell, I'll wait till some other time." 
 
 " Yes," said Emily, " they are coming home ; the 
 bell rung for nine a few moments ago." 
 
 In fact, the door opened, and quite a party, as it 
 seemed to Esther, entered Mrs. Sidney, her husband, 
 aunt Mary, and brother Ned, as she was informed. 
 She was received by Mrs. Sidney with a passive " How 
 d'ye do ?" by Mr. Sidney, with a keen glance and a 
 warm grasp of the hand, while Aunt Mary kissed her, 
 and Ned welcomed her joyously, saying " that he sup- 
 posed Em was perfectly happy now." 
 
 Emily now busied herself in taking her mother's 
 bonnet, ribbons and cloak, and Esther looked with a 
 good deal of curiosity at her new acquaintances. 
 
 Mrs. Sidney, divested of her wrappings, was a pale, 
 delicate looking woman, whose blue eyes expressed 
 neither much energy or warm affections. She fell 
 back almost exhausted in the rocking chair which Em- 
 ily had left, and seemed unconscious that the rockers 
 had become entangled in another chair which Ned
 
 DOWN EAST AGAIN. 217 
 
 had drawn near it, and,' finding it impossible to rock, 
 she had resigned herself to a state of quiet, and had 
 not even taken the trouble to look behind her. Mr. 
 Sidney was a tall but rather spare man. His features 
 were large and far from handsome. His brow, care- 
 worn and wrinkled, was shaded by dark hair thickly 
 sown with gray. He took the slippers handed him by 
 Emily, gave in exchange his boots, and settled himself 
 comfortably upon the sofa. Aunt Mary and Ned had 
 left the room, and there was a silent pause. Mrs. Sid- 
 ney did not appear to notice the break in the conver- 
 sation, but her husband seemed to feel in duty bound 
 to say something, and began to ask some questions 
 about the travelling, remarking that a stage ride in 
 winter was anything but agreeable. 
 
 Esther replied to this at as .great length as possible, 
 but was as much relieved as Mr. Sidney evidently was, 
 at the entrance of Aunt Mary, who, quietly and with- 
 out the painful appearance of effort which had distin- 
 guished her brother's attempts at conversation, soon 
 made Esther feel quite at home, while Mr. Sidney re- 
 lapsed into silence. 
 
 Aunt Mary was tall and finely formed ; she had a 
 great abundance of black hair which was tastefully 
 arranged ; her features, though not regular, were pleas- 
 ing, and her eyes, large and deep, lighted up beautiful- 
 ly as she talked. She smiled often, displaying white 
 and even teeth. She seemed to possess that gift so 
 important but so rare, of seeing almost intuitively what 
 was the character of the person whom she addressed, 
 10
 
 218 NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 and of adapting herself at once to her companion, talk- 
 ing of what most interested her listener. 
 
 "I wonder how she ever came to be an old maid," 
 thought Esther for an old maid she certainly was. 
 Emily had assured her again and again that Aunt 
 Mary was forty one or two, and, though she had many 
 offers, seemed to have resolved on a life of single bles- 
 sedness. Xed now entered the room, bearing in his 
 hands a huge apple pie which he said he had found 
 in a foraging expedition into the pantry. He was close- 
 ly followed by Emily with plates and knives, and, 
 though Mr. Sidney declared that it was a most un- 
 healthy practice to eat just before going to bed, he 
 was very easily persuaded to take a piece. Mrs. Sid- 
 ney roused herself from her half dozing state and did 
 the. same. Esther received her portion from the 
 hands of Edward and, as he seated himself opposite her, 
 she had a fine opportunity to study his countenance, 
 a favorite employment of hers. He was a young man 
 of about twenty-five years of age. " A fine, frank 
 face," thought Esther, " though not handsome." His 
 brown complexion, so different from his mother's and 
 Emily's, she attributed to his sea voyages, for he was 
 a sea captain. This she already knew, for, thanks to 
 Emily's communications, none of the family seemed 
 strangers to her. See read, she thought, in the lines 
 of his mouth when at rest, an inflexible will, but this 
 almost sternness vanished at once when he smiled. He 
 was the idol of his sister, and his mother's eyes fol- 
 lowed him with proud affection in all his wild vaga- 
 ries, and they were many. She even suffered his
 
 DOWN EAST AGAIN. 219 
 
 dog to lick her face without expostulation, and her 
 cold smile became a warm and ardent one as he seat- 
 ed himself by her side, and taking her thin hand, 
 pressed it fondly between his rough palms. She re- 
 ceived all Emily's attentions quietly, and.suffered her 
 caresses passively, but the slightest token of Edward's 
 love for her called such a light to her wasted features 
 as really made them beautiful, and then, and then only, 
 could Esther trace any marks of the beauty which 
 she was said to have possessed in her youthful days. 
 
 " Emily, bring me the Bible," said Mr. Sidney, af- 
 ter a pause. 
 
 His daughter at once took from the table the large 
 family Bible, and taking his spectacles from his 
 pocket, wiping them, and giving a preparatory ahem, 
 Deacon Sidney, as he was usually called, commenced 
 reading aloud, one of the Psalms ; but his eyes trou- 
 bled him, and he requested Mary to read for him. 
 She immediately complied, and as her rich sweet 
 voice broke the silence, Esther could not but be struck 
 with the contrast between the reading of the brother 
 and sister. Mr. Sidney read in a cold, hard voice the 
 words, which, imbued with the enthusiasm of Mary's 
 nature, breathed of faith and love, and familiar as 
 were the words to Esther, they seemed almost new to 
 her, coming, as it were, fresh from the reader's heart. 
 
 She ceased, and Mr. Sidney knelt down ; at once 
 all present did the same, and the voice of the Deacon 
 was lifted in prayer. He prayed long and fer- 
 vently for the welfare of church and state, for the 
 upbuilding of Zion, for heathen lands, for the poor
 
 220 NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 and oppressed, but not for the family, except in gen- 
 eral terms. Esther felt that there was a lack, she 
 hardly knew of what, and she reproached herself for 
 the feeling which she could not prevent. 
 
 At the close of the prayer each bade good night, 
 and taking lamps, sought their chambers. Esther and 
 Emily were to share the same room ; they had hardly 
 thrown themselves upon the bed, when Aunt Mary 
 entered. 
 
 She approached the bed-side and carefully tucked 
 the covering around them, then laid her hand caress- 
 ingly upon the brow of each, saying as she bade them 
 good-night, " God bless and keep you, my children." 
 
 The words were simple, but the tone, deep and 
 heartfelt, made them very impressive, and as she left 
 the chamber Esther felt that a holy presence departed 
 with her. 
 
 " How do you like Aunt Mary ?" asked Emily as 
 the door closed^after her. 
 
 " She is a superior being," returned Esther, " I 
 could love her very dearly, but it surprises me that 
 she should be an old maid." 
 
 " It always did me, till a short time since grandma 
 told me her story. She was engaged to a very fine 
 man, a sea captain, and they were to be married on 
 his return from a voyage. All things were in readi- 
 ness for their marriage, and he was expected in a 
 week or two, when there was a terrible gale ; his ship 
 was wrecked, and all but one man lost. This sailor 
 was taken off the vessel, and told of the sad fate of 
 the rest, both captain and crew.
 
 DOWN EAST AGAIN. 221 
 
 " It nearly killed Aunt Mary, grandma said. She 
 used to be very merry and wild, but this sobered her 
 at once. She is never lively now, though not very 
 melancholy.. For all it was so long ago, she can never 
 hear any thing about a shipwreck without leaving 
 the room. None of the family ever name such a 
 thing to her; but once, when I was quif.e small, I re- 
 member I read from a paper a tale of a vessel lost at 
 sea. Aunt Mary was alone in the room with me ; 
 she started up, and pressed her hand to her heart, ex- 
 claiming, " Oh, God !" then sunk back in her chair. 
 She was deathly pale, and I was frightened enough. 
 I was going to run for assistance, but she bade me re- 
 main, and said she should be well in a moment. This 
 was the only time I ever knew her to betray any 
 emotion ; but on the anniversary of that fatal day, 
 she goes to her room and sees no one on any occasion. 
 She has had many offers of marriage, but never lis- 
 tens to any of them. I don't know what we should 
 do, if she were to marry. Grandma couldn't live 
 without her, and she is always doing good. She visits 
 the sick a great deal, and if any one is in trouble, she 
 goes to them, and knows just what to say to them to 
 comfort them." 
 
 "Surely," thought Esther, as she heard this story, 
 " all things work together for good to them that love 
 God." 
 
 Emily now began to tell Esther that Virginia and 
 Maria would be in Belfast in the course of a day or 
 two, and after talking of her plans for enjoyment, 
 the two friends fell asleep, from which Esther did
 
 222 NOW A-DAYS. 
 
 not awake till the clear voice of Aunt Mary, as she 
 stood by their bedside, awoke both of the sleepers. 
 
 " We must make haste," said Emily, " for father 
 never likes to have any one absent or late at prayers." 
 And dressing in haste, they reached the sitting room 
 just as Deacon Sidney had rung the bell, and, Bible in 
 hand, had opened its sacred pages. 
 
 Breakfast followed, at which Mrs. Sidney the 
 younger made her appearance for the first time. 
 Grandmother had been up a long time, and as her 
 daughter-in-law spoke of a bad headache, and sleep- 
 less night, she cast a glance of incredulity at her, 
 simply saying, " Folks hain't nigh so strong now-a- 
 days, as they used to be when I was a gal." 
 
 Breakfast over, Emily and Esther entered the sit- 
 ting room. It was already in perfect order, for Aunt 
 Mary's hand had been there. Mrs. Sidney threw her- 
 self languidly upon the sofa, replying in as few words 
 as possible to Emily's inquiries about her health. 
 
 Aunt Mary had been for some time in her mother's 
 room, she now appeared, neatly dressed, and seating 
 herself at a low table, commenced sewing. She had 
 hardly got her work about her, when a large-framed, 
 coarse looking woman entered. She had a piercing 
 black eye, and her hair was cut short, falling over 
 her forehead. Her dress was of calico, and rather 
 short, a large cape or vandyke, as it was usually 
 called, completed her costume. 
 
 She bore in her hands a large basket of stockings, 
 which she gave to Miss Mary, telling her that there 
 was "a hull heap on um to mend this week. What
 
 DOWN EAST AGAIN. 223 
 
 be we goin' to hev for dinner?" continued Yiolet 
 Maxwell, for this was the name of the new comer, 
 the maid of all work in Mrs. Sidney's family. 
 
 " I will come out and see to it," was Miss Mary's 
 reply, and Violet vanished. 
 
 " I presume Virginia and Maria will be here to- 
 day," said Emily, " and then we shall have a grand 
 time. It will seem like Auld Lang Syne again. Come, 
 Esther," she continued, " let's try some of our old 
 duetts." 
 
 "But your mother," said Esther in a low voice, 
 "will not the music make her head ache?" 
 
 " Oh, no," replied Emily, " she always has an ill 
 turn in the morning, but she gets over it and sews or 
 reads in a little while after breakfast." 
 
 In fact, Mrs. Sidney now drew her work-table to 
 her side, unfolded nearly every piece of work with 
 which it was covered, looked first at a bosom which 
 was to be stitched, then laid it aside ; taking up a 
 black silk apron, she subjected it to the same ordeal ; 
 several unhemmed pocket handkerchiefs she added 
 to the pile of rejected articles, and at last taking some 
 knitting work in her hand, she left the room. 
 
 "She has gone to grandmother's room," said Emily, 
 and opening the piano they commenced playing. 
 
 Hours flew like moments while they were thus en- 
 gaged, for both were very fond of music ; but at last 
 the clock struck twelve. Emily started, declaring that 
 she had no idea that it was so late. " We must go 
 and get ready for dinner,'' she said, " for we dine at 
 half past twelve."'
 
 224 NOW-A-DAY8. 
 
 Aunt Mary had been sitting quietly in the room 
 for some time, and Esther noticed that the pile of 
 work which Mrs. Sidney had left was considerably 
 diminished. The pocket handkerchiefs were hemmed, 
 and the silk apron was in Aunt Mary's busy hands, 
 rapidly approaching completion. 
 
 " I have exchanged work with Charlotte," she said 
 briefly, as she noticed the direction of Esther's glance. 
 " She is entertaining mother, while I sew a little for 
 her." 
 
 Ned now entered and proposed a sleigh-ride in the 
 afternoon, as it was too pleasant to stay in doors, he 
 said. 
 
 Dinner over, the gay party set out; they were 
 joined by Aunt Mary, who had a large basket in her 
 hand, and wished to be set down at a small cottage 
 where one of her patients resided, Julia Eustace, a 
 consumptive, and one of the loveliest beings, Miss 
 Sidney said, that she ever saw. 
 
 " One of that blessed woman's many protegees," 
 said Ned, when he had lifted his aunt almost rever- 
 entially from the sleigh, and his eyes followed her 
 with such loving glances, as would have made glad 
 her heart. 
 
 " If Aunt Mary isn't a saint on earth, then there 
 never was one!" he exclaimed enthusiastically; ' ; I 
 only wish there were more like her." Then dashing 
 off into other subjects, Ned appeared in the highest 
 spirits, and his lively sallies elicited many a shout of 
 laughter from his companions. 
 
 " We must begin to think of getting home !" sud-
 
 DoWX i.AST AGAIN. 225 
 
 denly exclaimed Emily, "for Virginia and Maria may 
 have already come. Do turn round and drive home 
 fast !" 
 
 Ked did as requested, and soon had landed his fail- 
 cargo, as he called it, safely in port. 
 
 They had arrived just in time, for hardly had they 
 got warmed, when the door bell rang, and the ex- 
 pected guests alighted from a heavily-loaded stage 
 coach. 
 
 They were cordially welcomed and quickly freed 
 from their heavy cloaks. 
 
 Virginia declined all assistance, and soon bereft of 
 bonnet, furs, &c., stood before them. Her figure was 
 slight but graceful ; her hands, which she seemed to 
 know how to display to advantage, were white, small, 
 and beautifully moulded. Her dress, a dark plaid, 
 fitted her nicely and showed her form to advantage, 
 but Esther and Emily looked in vain for that beauty 
 of which they had heard. Her hair was indeed beau- 
 tiful, it fell in a profusion of curls negligently but 
 gracefully over her face, but her eyes were far from 
 handsome, her features not very regular, and her hair 
 and teeth were all that redeemed her from positive, 
 plainness. 
 
 " Well, girls," said she, laughing, " how you stare 
 at me ! You were expecting a beauty and you are 
 disappointed. The truth is, I am only a belle. For 
 that character very little beauty is required. The 
 fact is, I was as much astonished as you are, when I 
 was first called handsome. I came from school with 
 a pretty correct estimate of my personal attractions, a 
 10*
 
 226 NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 good figure, good hair and teeth, and passable com- 
 plexion. I went into society and saw so many ordi- 
 nary-looking women called handsome, that I took 
 courage. I left the numerous body of wall-flowers, 
 just made the best posible use of what fine gifts na- 
 ture had bestowed upon me, and the consequence is, 
 that I am called the admired Miss Virginia Clifton." 
 
 Maria stood silently by, while Virginia went on in 
 a half -joking way to tell of her admirers. "First and 
 foremost, there's the staid, middle-aged Mr. Norton, 
 quite wealthy, which is about his only attraction, for 
 he is abominably dull and abominably homely ; then 
 I can boast of a poet lover, who has immortalized my 
 name in a series of acrostics, one of which I found 
 wound tastefully round a bouquet. I really wish I 
 could remember it; though the effect was almost 
 overpowering on me yet I did not commit it to 
 memory. Then there are some half dozen young 
 men who fall in love with every new face, who for 
 the present bow before my shrine. So you see, girls," 
 she concluded, " I have had considerable experience 
 already in affairs of the heart. I have, however, 
 come out from the ordeal unscathed. I have con- 
 quered all the subjects in Portland, and have come 
 here to do similar execution." 
 
 " You will find a poor field for your brilliant 
 achievements, Jennie, I fear," said Emily ; then turn- 
 ing to Maria, she asked her " what she had done 
 worthy of note since she left school." 
 
 " Nothing," was her reply, " but to grow thin," in-
 
 AST AGAIN'. 227 
 
 terrupted Virginia, " and to grow silent ; why she 
 has hardly spoken a word the whole way." 
 
 " You have amply made up for my deficiencies," 
 said Maria. 
 
 " You do not look well, Maria," said Esther, ten- 
 derly, as she sat by her friend's side and gazed at her 
 pale face. She was dressed in deep mourning for her 
 mother, who had died nearly a year since. Her fea- 
 tures were regular and quite handsome. Her deep 
 blue eyes had an appealing look which went to the 
 heart, but hers was not the beauty which attracts at 
 once. She was dressed without any pretensions to 
 display ; her long brown hair was smoothly folded 
 around her head, and she wore very few ornaments. 
 In this respect, as in most others, she formed a perfect 
 contrast to Virginia, whose fingers were loaded with 
 jewels, and her open sleeve displayed one or two 
 handsome bracelets upon her rounded arm ; in fact, 
 she had some article of jewelry wherever she could 
 wear it. 
 
 Involuntarily as Esther glanced at her lively com- 
 panion, who was chatting volubly with Mrs. Sidney, 
 who had just entered, she felt repelled, and as strongly 
 attracted to Maria. 
 
 Mrs. Sidney really seemed to partake her young 
 friend's animation ; she smiled at Jennie's amusing 
 description of their travelling companions, and of the 
 incidents they had met with on their way. 
 
 Emily, who listened, appeared delighted to see the 
 interest which her mother manifested, it was so rarely 
 that she was aroused from her usual Hstlessness.
 
 2Z NOW-A-DAY8. 
 
 Xed, who soon came in and was introduced, was 
 charmed with the ease and frankness with which 
 Jennie greeted him, and was soon in a gay conversa- 
 tion with her. 
 
 Deacon Sidney she approached with the same self- 
 possession. She did not appear to stand in awe of him 
 in the least, and this from its very novelty seemed to 
 delight him. Instinctively, she found out what most 
 interested him, and talked with him seriously at first, 
 then gaily and familiarly. 
 
 Before nine o'clock she had heen all over the house, 
 and had won grandma's heart by her sprightliness, 
 her love for pussy, and by holding a skein of yarn 
 for her. She had visited the kitchen, and her praise 
 of Violet's favorite gingerbread, of which she had 
 begged a piece, had won from her the remark that, 
 " she was a mighty nice gal, none of your stuck-up 
 city gals, but one that knowed what's what." 
 
 Esther could not but see that Virginia was a gene- 
 ral favorite. She waited with some impatience for 
 Aunt Mary's return, to see if she too would share the 
 universal attraction. 
 
 On Aunt Mary's entrance Virginia looked at her 
 with that penetrating glance which she bestowed on 
 all who came in her way ; she encountered an equally 
 searching one from Aunt Mary, who addressed her 
 kindly, and then turned to Maria with one of her 
 most winning smiles as she spoke of her mother, one 
 of her dearest friends, she said, in days long gone by, 
 and to whom Maria bore a striking resemblance. " I 
 long to take you into my heart," she continued in a
 
 DOWN EAST AGAIN. 
 
 low voice, " for I feel sure you must resemble her as 
 much in character as in person." 
 
 Tears filled Maria's eyes as she returned the warm 
 pressure of the hand which Miss Sidney held. 
 
 Virginia had drawn near, and taking Aunt Mary's 
 other hand pressed it warmly to her lips. The action 
 was simple but unexpected. Miss Sidney looked at 
 her with some surprise. 
 
 " Love me a little too, if you can," whispered Jen- 
 nie, pressing her cheek softly against the hand she 
 still held. 
 
 Touched by the childlike appeal, Miss Sidney re- 
 plied in a few tender words. She had won her way 
 to Aunt Mary's heart. 
 
 " How much Virginia has improved !" said Emily, 
 when she and Esther were alone in their chamber. 
 "How simple, natural, and loving she has grown?" 
 
 " She is indeed fascinating," replied Esther, rather 
 coldly, but she reproached herself for her coldness ; 
 again and again she asked herself, if she was jealous 
 of Jennie's charms. "I am unjust to her," she 
 thought. " I do not understand her, and have mis- 
 judged her." So she joined in praise of Jennie's 
 winning manners, and soon fell asleep. 
 
 The next evening, Mr. Templeton, who had been 
 out of town on business for a few days, returned and 
 called at Deacon Sidney's. He was very pleasant 
 and cordial in his manners towards Emily and Esther, 
 with whom he talked principally, notwithstanding 
 Virginia's efforts to withdraw him. 
 
 At length she approached the piano and sung a
 
 230 NOW-A-BAYS. 
 
 ballad ; she had a sweet voice, and played with great 
 taste and feeling. Edward bent over her admiringly, 
 and Mr. Templeton arose and joined the group. Jen- 
 nie had been successful, but she appeared perfectly 
 unconscious of his approach, except a flash of the eye, 
 which Esther imagined she read aright, as one of tri- 
 umph. She started very prettily and naturally as Mr. 
 Templeton requested another song, but complied with 
 much sweetness ; then rising, asked Emily or Esther 
 to play. 
 
 Esther seated herself at the piano, and played a 
 lively waltz. Jennie at once started off in a dance 
 alone, much to Deacon Sidney's horror, for dancing, 
 of all sinful pleasures, except playing cards, he held 
 in utter abhorrence. 
 
 " Miss Clifton," he commenced almost sternly, as 
 Virginia sat down panting at his side. 
 
 " Call me Virginia, please," interrupted she, look- 
 ing up into his face, with a frank smile, which com- 
 pletely disarmed the rebuke he had intended to give 
 her, of its severity. 
 
 He smiled" Well, Virginia," he said, " I am sorry 
 to see that you dance." 
 
 " "Why ?" asked she, in apparently innocent won- 
 der. " I do so love it !" she continued, without wait- 
 ing for a reply, " I could dance all night !" 
 
 " There are much more profitable ways of spending 
 one's nights," remarked Mr. Sidney, gravely. 
 
 " But none more pleasant," interrupted Virginia ; 
 "but sometime you shall tell me all your objections," 
 she continued gaily : " To-night I challenge you to a
 
 DOWN EAST AGAIN. 231 
 
 game of checkers," and taking a board from a table, 
 she commenced setting the men. 
 
 This was a favorite recreation of Deacon Sidney's, 
 and smilingly he took his place opposite Jennie and 
 commenced playing. 
 
 Emily looked on in astonishment, wondering to see 
 Virginia so familiar with one, whom though her fa- 
 ther, she had always regarded with mingled awe and 
 reverence.
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 THE SEWING CIRCLE. 
 
 " WELL, girls, you are all invited to attend the First 
 Congregational Sewing Circle, at Dr. Manning's, this 
 afternoon. Would you like to go ?" said Emily one 
 morning, entering the parlor where her guests were 
 seated. 
 
 The announcement was received very differently 
 by the persons addressed. " I shall like it, of all 
 things !" exclaimed Virginia, who was arranging her 
 curls before a mirror. Esther replied that it was a 
 matter of indifference to her, and Maria, who had 
 thrown herself at full length upon the sofa, holding a 
 book which she was professedly reading, but which, 
 for the most part, hung negligently between her fin- 
 gers, yawned, and said, " she guessed she would stay 
 at home." 
 
 " Poh, Maria !" replied Virginia^ " you shan't do any 
 such thing. We won't excuse you." 
 
 " You had all better go," said Aunt Mary, who was 
 sewing, " as you are particularly invited, jit would be 
 quite a disappointment to Mrs. Manning, if you did 
 not attend." 
 
 " Yery well, then," replied Maria, and went on read- 
 ing.
 
 THK SEWING CIRCLE. 233 
 
 At two o'clock the party started for Mrs. Man- 
 ning's. The walk was rather a long one but very plea- 
 sant. The Doctor's house stood upon a hill which 
 commanded a fine view of the bay ; this was now 
 open, though it was winter, as it was very rarely fro- 
 zen over. The dwelling was surrounded by trees, 
 which, covered with icicles, glittered and sparkled in 
 the sun. 
 
 " It must be a delightful residence in the summer !" 
 said Esther. 
 
 " It is, indeed," replied Emily, " and this hill also 
 has its charms in winter; it is a fine place for sliding, 
 as you see. Take care, girls," she cried out, as a 
 whole troop of sleds, whose owners cried " Lulla !" as 
 an admonition to people to get out of the way, came 
 swiftly down the hill. " It would have been wiser in 
 us to have remained on the side-walk. But here we 
 are at last," said Emily. 
 
 A girl met them at the door, directing them to the 
 front chamber, where, already, laid piles of clothing, 
 shawls and bonnets heaped up in confusion. 
 
 " How do I look ?" asked Virginia, when she had 
 given the final brush to her hair, had shaken out the 
 flounces of her black silk, and arranged her under- 
 handkerchief to her satisfaction. 
 
 " Remarkably well," replied Maria. 
 
 Emily coolly said, " she would do nicely, as nearly 
 all of the people whom she would see were old ladies, 
 and rather blind." 
 
 " I think that I do look nicely," repeated Virginia, 
 taking no notice of Emily's remark, and glancing at
 
 234: NOW-A-PAY3. 
 
 herself in the mirror. And she spoke truly. The 
 walk had given color to her cheeks, and her eyes, not 
 usually very expressive, were now quite animated. 
 
 " Come, Em," she exclaimed, " lead the way to the 
 lower Regions !" There was breathless silence as they 
 entered the large parlor, for all present were anxious 
 to see Emily Sidney's company. 
 
 The lady of the house was not present ; and Emily, 
 after introducing her friends to a few who were near 
 her, seated herself and her companions on a vacant 
 sofa. 
 
 The president of the society, a tall thin woman, 
 wearing spectacles, sat near a square table, where 
 piles of work were spread out ; and, on Emily's appli- 
 cation to her for work, busied herself in looking it 
 over, to see if she could find any suitable. 
 
 There were about twenty already assembled, most 
 of them middle aged and quite old ladies. The ma- 
 trons were gathered in little groups, knitting with 
 wonderful rapidity, rattling their needles as if they 
 were accomplishing wonders, and talking equally as 
 fast ; for they had resumed the conversation, which 
 had been interrupted by the entrance of Emily and 
 her friends. They were discussing, with great ear- 
 nestness, the merits of their last pastor, who had just 
 left them, as well as those of his successor, when the 
 quiet entrance of a slight, pale, and blue-eyed woman, 
 who had a little girl, of some two years of age, by the 
 hand, suddenly checked the tide of discourse. 
 
 She approached the group of old ladies, who had 
 that painfully conscious air that usually marks the
 
 THE SEWING CIRCLE. 235 
 
 interruption of a choice bit of gossip, by the sudden 
 entrance of the very person who has been the subject 
 of remark, but she did not appear to notice this. She 
 extended her hand cordially to each in turn, asking 
 one of her rheumatism, another of the health owlome 
 member of the family who had been sick, and passing 
 none without some pleasant remark. 
 
 "Wall, I'm real glad to see ye, Miss Hammond," 
 said more than one. " I was afeard you wouldn't 
 walk so fur." 
 
 " Mrs. Manning was so kind as to send forme," re- 
 plied the new minister's wife, for it was she ; " her 
 sleigh met me, when I had walked about half way ;" 
 and passing on, she addressed all present in her sweet 
 and simple manner. 
 
 Emily sprang forward to meet her, and, after intro- 
 ducing her friends, entered into an animated conver- 
 sation with her. 
 
 " "What did you say her name was ?" asked Esther, 
 when Mrs. Hammond rose to get some work. 
 
 " Mrs. Arthur Hammond," replied Emily, " our 
 new minister's wife. Isn't she sweet? They have 
 only been settled here about two months. A part of 
 the people were much opposed to her husband's settle- 
 ment here, and were determined not to like either of 
 them ; but she has won everybody's heart since she 
 came. Mr. Hammond will be here this afternoon ; 
 he always comes just before tea." 
 
 Mrs. Manning now entered, bearing a babe in her 
 arms, and sinking into the first chair that came in her 
 way. She was rather an ordinary looking person, and
 
 236 NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 evidently mucn embarrassed. She blushed deeply, 
 when she was undergoing the ordeal of introduction 
 to the strangers ; and, merely remarking that " it was 
 a fine day," returned to her seat in the corner again. 
 
 Yj^inia, tired of sewing, now threw down her 
 work, ai.d began to play with little Agnes Hammond, 
 and had soon carried her to " Banbury-Cross" an in- 
 definite number of times, to the young lady's great 
 amusement. She was in the midst of the wonderful 
 story of " Jacky Homer," when the door opened, and 
 the Rev. Arthur Hammond entered. 
 
 Esther gazed with no little curiosity upon him, and 
 did not wonder that Margaret had loved him so well. 
 " So that is Arthur Hammond," said she, to herself ; 
 " he is certainly a fine looking man." 
 
 He was indeed ; for though his features were too 
 strongly marked to be regularly handsome, there was 
 a certain something in his appearance that involun- 
 tarily attracted one's attention. His figure was some- 
 what above the middle height, erect and vigorous, 
 having none of that worn and fragile look that is too 
 apt to characterize the student. His forehead, which 
 was high and white, was shaded by clustering masses 
 of silky brown hair; his eyes wer-e deep and earnest, 
 and gave a spiritual expression to his face ; but there 
 was less of that determine^ook, expressive of an in- 
 domitable will, than Estherfcad expected to see, from 
 Margaret's description of his character. This was her 
 thought, as she looked at the upper part of his face ; 
 but as her eye rested on the lower part of his counte- 
 nance she altered her opinion, for she read innexi-
 
 THE SEWING CIRCLE. 237 
 
 bility in the lines of his mouth, and perceived the gen- 
 eral effect of it also in his independent and self-reliant 
 carriage. It was evident that he possessed talent, and, 
 without any disagreable self-conceit, it was equally 
 evident that he was aware of his attainments, w 
 
 " Just the one for Margaret," she thought, as she 
 watched his movements, and admired the graceful 
 ease of his manners. 
 
 Passing around the room, with a few words to each, 
 he came at last to Emily, and talked pleasantly with 
 her companions. He glanced at Virginia, who had 
 assumed a very graceful attitude, and still continued 
 her occupation, that of amusing Miss Agnes. 
 
 " Let me present you to a third of my friends," said 
 Emily, who had followed the direction of his eyes; 
 and soon Virginia and the minister were gayly con- 
 versing together. 
 
 " I must carry my work to the President," said Es- 
 ther, " for I have finished it ;" and folding her pillow- 
 case, she carried it to the table. The President and 
 Second Directress were examining some work which 
 had just been brought in. 
 
 " Who gave this work to Miss Billins to sew on ? 
 Did you, Miss Smith?" 
 
 " No," replied the Second Directress ; " I guess she 
 took it herself. I never give her no nice work to do. 
 I have had too much fnss with her for that." 
 
 " Wall ! it's done awfully, and no mistake," said the 
 President. " It must be picked out ; then I spose 
 she'll be as mad as a hop ; but I can't help it, it's got 
 to come out. Give it to Mary Smiley, she'll do it
 
 238 NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 well," continued the good lady ; " and tell her not to 
 let Miss Billins see it, if she can help it." 
 
 The Second Directress did as she was commanded ; 
 but, unfortunately, Mrs. Billings, a sharp-featured, 
 brightly ed woman, had seen the manoeuvre, and an- 
 grily began talking to her next neighbor. " I guess I 
 can sew as well as Miss Wilcox," said she, " or Mary 
 Smiley either ; but she's got a spite against me, and 
 has been and picked out lots and lots of my work. I 
 vow I won't put up with it. I'll take my name off 
 from the Society. Miss Wilcox feels mighty nice 
 since she got to be President ; I wonder who she is, 
 that ske need to be so grand and stuck up. Why, you 
 can't tech her with a forty foot pole now. * Set a beg- 
 gar on horseback,' you know. Lord ! I've seen some 
 of her work ; her boys wears clothes patched so bad, 
 that I wouldn't let my young ones wear um into the 
 woods. I should be ashamed to let anybody see um, 
 if I was her. I'll agree to sew with her any time." 
 
 She contented herself with casting glances of defi- 
 ance at the President, who bore them with great cool- 
 ness. 
 
 "There's Miss Somers," said Mrs. Wilcox to Miss 
 Smith ; " she always comes dreadful late ; I guess there 
 wouldn't be much done, if everybody did the same." 
 
 " Good afternoon, Miss Wilcox," said Mrs. Somers, 
 pleasantly, coming up to the table. The officers 
 greeted her with respect, and, taking the work which 
 they gave her, she seated herself near Esther, and 
 saying that she presumed she was addressing one of
 
 THE SEWING CIRCLE. 239 
 
 Miss Sidney's friends, she introduced herself, and 
 commenced a conversation. 
 
 Esther was charmed with her new acquaintance, 
 who, though somewhat advanced in life, retained all 
 the sprightliness and vivacity of her youth. They 
 soon found that they had a number of mutual friends ; 
 and Mrs. Somers discovered that Esther's father was 
 one of her old, and, she said, " most highly valued 
 acquaintances." 
 
 Tea was now announced to be in readiness, by the 
 Doctor, a hale, hearty looking man, and very gentle- 
 manly in his manners. 
 
 " The Society will please lay aside their work, and 
 walk out to tea," said the President, as she followed, 
 with much dignity, the minister and his wife into the 
 large dining room. 
 
 After a blessing had been pronounced by Mr. 
 Hammond, the Doctor invited Emily to assist in pass- 
 ing round the plates. All the company were stand- 
 ing rigidly against the walls, except Mrs. Hammond, 
 who came to Emily's assistance, and, passing round, 
 gave each a plate ; while Emily followed, bearing a 
 plate of buttered biscuits, and Virginia brought up 
 the rear, with cheese and preserved damsons. Mrs. 
 Manning was, in the meantime, pouring out tea, at a 
 side-table, aided by one or two of her friends, so that 
 soon all were supplied. 
 
 The Doctor, now declaring that he never knew 
 where to put his plate when he stood up, as he always 
 spilt its contents, or those of his tea-cup, invited Mr.
 
 24:0 NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 Hammond to follow his example and seat himself at 
 the table. 
 
 Mrs. Somers and Esther still stood together, and were 
 conversing with no lack of spirit. 
 
 " I have found an old friend, or rather, the daugh- 
 ter of an old friend in Miss Hastings," said Mrs. 
 Somers as Emily approached them. " The father I 
 knew long before his residence in Bangor, and with his 
 first wife I have spent many a pleasant hour, though 
 I never knew his second. Let me see," she continued 
 musingly, " what was the maiden name of your step- 
 mother ?" 
 
 " Margaret "Wilton," replied Esther. 
 
 " I saw her once at a party," rejoined Mrs. Somers. 
 " I remember her perfectly ; she was an uncommonly 
 beautiful woman." 
 
 At the name of Margaret Wilton, Mr. Hammond 
 looked up, but betrayed no emotion, for Esther watched 
 him narrowly. 
 
 He helped himself to another biscuit and praised 
 the bread, to Mrs. Manning's evident satisfaction. 
 
 After supper was over, they returned to the par- 
 lor. Mr. Hammond now approached Esther and re- 
 marked that he as well as Mrs. Somers had made a 
 discovery, that her step-mother had been an old friend 
 of his. He spoke easily, and, without embarrassment, 
 asked where she now was, and listened with interest 
 to Esther's account of her second marriage. 
 
 " She is a noble woman," he said after a pause. 
 " When you next write her, please present my regards 
 to her. Alice," he said, as his wife came near and
 
 THE SEWING CIRCLE. 241 
 
 stood with her hand upon her husband's chair, " do 
 you not remember meeting Mrs. Hastings once in Ban- 
 gor at a party ?" 
 
 " Yes," replied his wife after a moment's pause, 
 " she was a very gay and brilliant person." 
 
 " This is her step-daughter," continued Mr. Ham- 
 mond. 
 
 " Indeed," said his wife, and, after praising Mrs 
 Hastings' beauty, in which Esther joined warmly, 
 though declaring that it was the least of her charms, 
 the conversation turned on different subjects, and Es- 
 ther sat thinking how strangely people altered ! 
 
 She could not see that the mention of one he had so 
 fondly loved had produced the least effect on Arthur 
 Hammond. Margaret too had ceased to love him. 
 " "Well," thought she, " all this talk rfbout undying 
 love must be nonsense." But the vision of Aunt 
 Mary's lost but cherished affection rose before her, and 
 she revoked her hasty decision. 
 
 The old ladies now made preparations for departure ; 
 the President and directors rolled up the work, and 
 one by one they retired ; but young people now be- 
 gan to take their places. Several young girls, neatly 
 and prettily dressed, now came in, closely followed by 
 a number of young gentlemen. Among these was 
 the only son of Mrs. Somers, Frederick, a fine looking 
 fellow, now at home for a short time 1'rom Cambridge, 
 where he had been attending the law school. Ned 
 Sidney accompanied him and introduced him to the 
 guests of his sister. 
 
 Maria seemed as listless as ever ; she was sitting in 
 11
 
 242 NOW-A-DAY8. 
 
 a circle of young ladies, one or two of whom were 
 making vain attempts to engage her in conversation. 
 They at last, however, relinquished the effort, and 
 remarked in a low tone as they passed Esther, " she is 
 certainly one of the most insipid girls that I ever saw. 
 All she has said in reply to my strenuous exertions to 
 make her talk is, ' yes,' * no,' ' do you think so ?' and 
 the like." 
 
 Esther glanced at her friend, and could not avoid 
 thinking that her appearance justified the remark ; but 
 it was so different from the Maria of old times, that 
 she hastened to ask her if she was sick. 
 
 The company, meanwhile, had begun to get over a 
 little <of the stiffness usually attendant on such occa- 
 sions. The gentlemen left the sides of the room, where 
 they had all been sitting together talking, and appar- 
 ently much interested in each other, yet casting long- 
 ing glances towards their fair friends, who appeared 
 equally oblivious of the male portion of the party. 
 
 They seemed at once now to enter into the spirit of 
 the evening, and games, for it would have shocked the 
 orthodox notions of the good people of Mr. Ham- 
 mond's society if dancing had been introduced, fol- 
 lowed.thick and fast. 
 
 Kitchen Furniture was called for, and, assuming the 
 names of various articles, tongs, broom boots, &c., 
 were obliged to rise up, amid laughter and merry jc<ts. 
 
 Grocery Store next came, and Pork was seen in the 
 shape of some fair girl, exchanging places with Cab- 
 bage, in the person of Ned Sidney, who seemed rather 
 unwilling to give up his seat by the side of Virginia.
 
 THE SEWING CIRCLE. 243 
 
 Beans, as Mr. Somers was called for the time being, 
 seemed equally ambitious of a seat by her side, and 
 many were the jests of the company, on the fondness of 
 these gentlemen for Molasses, which was her cognomen. 
 
 Jenny appeared to be in her element, casting sly 
 glances at the faces of her two admirers, and welcom- 
 ing each to her side with the same sweet smile and arch 
 words. 
 
 Maria too, to Esther's great satisfaction, seemed to 
 have roused herself from her listless state, and anima- 
 tion, which alone was wanting to render her beautiful, 
 now sparkled in her eyes and beamed in her smile. 
 Admirers of her were not wanting, but she seemed to 
 repulse every attention quietly and kindly, but in so 
 marked a manner, that she was soon left to herself. 
 
 Blindfold was now proposed, and Dr. Manning, 
 with Mrs. Sorners and a few of the older people who 
 had remained, though they had adjourned to another 
 room for a quiet chat, now united with the younger 
 members of the circle in clearing the room for action, 
 as he said. Chairs, tables, mirrors and sofas were hur- 
 ried out into the large entry, and Dr. Manning was 
 first blinded. Emily tied the bandage over his eyes 
 and, admonishing him to " turn round three times and 
 catch who you may," darted from his side. 
 
 Now what scampering from one side of the room 
 to the other followed ! Then what profound silence 
 as one was caught, while the Doctor vainly attempted 
 to guess whom he had taken. 
 
 " You all wear your hair alike, I believe," he said, 
 " but I guess it is Emily Sidney."
 
 244: NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 His guess proved correct, and, amid her declara- 
 tions that she really believed that he could see, while 
 he laughingly assured her, that if so, it was her own 
 fault, as she had tied on the handkerchief, she assumed 
 his place. Again the scampering ensued, and the fall 
 of one or two was greeted with shouts of laughter, as 
 each declared that he was unhurt. Suddenly the door 
 opened, and Mr. Templeton entered just in season to 
 be caught by Emily, who guessed him at once. Many 
 were the pleasant sallies which this called forth, but 
 he declined being blindfolded, as he had just come in 
 from the cold. 
 
 After a few more had been blinded, the party were 
 all pretty tired, and quite ready to partake of the re- 
 freshments, apples, nuts, and raisins, which were now 
 brought in. Apples were now named, causing many 
 blushes, until at last it came to Virginia's turn. 
 
 " Who did you name mine ?" she asked of the com- 
 pany. 
 
 " Mr. Somers," replied one ; " Mr. Sidnev," said 
 the rest ; and so it was repeated until it came to Dr. 
 Manning. 
 
 " If I were not a married man," he said, smiling, 
 "I should be tempted to name it, myself; but as it is, 
 I will follow the example already set me, naming it 
 both Mr. Somers and Mr. Sidney, and leave the selec- 
 tion to you." 
 
 " How may seeds ?" cried all, as she put the little 
 shining specks into her white hand. 
 
 " Five, I declare," said she, very demurely, " Five,
 
 THE SEWING CIRCLE. 245 
 
 I cast away ;" and she glanced archly at the rivals, 
 who were close by her side. 
 
 Phillipines were now passed round, a game in which 
 all took part. Other games were now proposed, in 
 which Mr. Templeton did not join, for, unperceived, 
 he had slipped out to have a conversation with Mrs. 
 Manning, Mr. Hammond, and his wife, who were in 
 an adjoining apartment. 
 
 " He never will play these games," said Emily to 
 Esther, as she noticed his absence. 
 
 " I declare, it is eleven o'clock !" exclaimed Emily, 
 as the tones of the old Dutch clock rang out full and 
 clear ; " we must go home." 
 
 Already shawled and hooded, the girls had bid Mrs. 
 Manning good night, assuring her that they had en- 
 j oyed themselves finely. Esther noticed that Virginia 
 stood by the side of Edward Sidney, when Mr. 
 Somers, not observing this, proposed accompanying 
 her home. 
 
 " Unfortunately," replied she, in a very low tone, 
 " I am already provided for." 
 
 He bowed, and sought Maria, with whom he was 
 more successful. 
 
 Edward had been talking to one of his friends ; but, 
 by the quick flush of his cheek, Esther saw that Vir- 
 ginia's words had been overheard. , 
 
 " I am sorry," said he, " to be the unfortunate cause 
 of depriving you of so much pleasanter an escort than 
 I can hope to be." 
 
 "Pshaw, Edward ! don't make yourself ridiculous!" 
 
 The words were sharp, but spoken in a low, almost
 
 246 NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 tender tone. It was the first time that she had ever 
 called him Edward. It seemed to have been involun- 
 tary ; for she added, after a short pause, " Excuse me, 
 Mr. Sidney." 
 
 " It is an offence I would gladly have you repeat," 
 he replied. 
 
 " Then let us be henceforth Virginia and Edward 
 to each other," was her reply, as they walked slowly 
 homeward. 
 
 After this evening Mr. Somers and a Mr. Dunmore, 
 who had seemed quite pleased with Esther, having 
 attached himself to her very devotedly the whole 
 evening, and having been permitted to " see her 
 home," as he expressed it, were frequent visitors at 
 Deacon Sidney's. 
 
 Mr. Dunmore was a small, dapper man, remarkable 
 for nothing but his gentlemanly manners, good con- 
 nections, and regular features ; but he considered 
 these qualifications as all-sufficient, and had so good 
 an opinion of himself, that it was unnecessary for 
 others to waste their admiration upon him. So Esther 
 said, when she was complimented on her new admirer. 
 He was indefatigable in his attentions, and construed 
 every repulse which he met with from her and they 
 were not few as owing merely to maiden timidity. 
 It was in vain that she attempted to shake him off; 
 he was as constant as her shadow. 
 
 " He really appears impudent," she declared, half 
 vexed, to Emily. " 1 cannot step out to the door, but 
 his smile and bow greet me." 
 
 At last she relapsed into a passive state of endu-
 
 THE SEWING CIRCLE. 247 
 
 ranee, hoping that he would, ere long, give her an 
 opportunity of expressing her opinion of his merits, 
 and to free herself from further annoyance. 
 
 Virginia, meanwhile, had fully proved her claim to 
 the titles of both belle and coquette. She treated 
 Edward and Mr. Somers in the same capricious man- 
 ner. "While one basked in her smiles, the other was 
 chilled by her petulant manner ; and just as the 
 favored lover was hoping that his regard was returned, 
 lo ! he must take his turn in experiencing her apparent 
 indifference, and see his rival in the enjoyment of the 
 gracious smiles, which he had so lately thought were 
 his alone. 
 
 At such times Ned would assume as haughty a 
 manner as her own. Engaged in attentions to Maria, 
 he would strive to appear unconscious of the fact that 
 Virginia, absorbed in listening to Mr. Somers, was 
 apparently forgetful of all but the pleasure of his 
 society. 
 
 But Virginia was not so easily deceived. She 
 would take no notice of Edward's scornful smiles until 
 it suited her sovereign pleasure ; then she would re- 
 quest some trifling favor of him, and, while he was 
 thus engaged, retaining all his frostiness of manner, 
 she would throw so much sweetness and reproach into 
 her glance, as she thanked him, and whisper, "Don't 
 be foolish, Edward ! are you angry with your friend 
 Virginia?" that he could not but be won by her 
 smiles. 
 
 " I am a fool, Virginia," said he, on one of these oc- 
 casions, " to trust to you ; and as I am afraid that I
 
 248 NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 shall always remain one till I have you, I shall go 
 away soon." 
 
 Jennie would pay no heed to any such remark. 
 She seemed to take it for granted that it was her 
 friendship, not her love, that he sought ; and, putting 
 her hand playfully over his lips, would reply, " Now, 
 if you are going to look dignified, and scold, I won't 
 talk with you another moment ; I'll go and talk with 
 Ned Somers ; he's never so cross." 
 
 " Go, if you choose," was Edward's cool reply ; but, 
 nevertheless, he would drop the offending subject, and 
 Virginia would ride with him, play his favorite songs, 
 listen while he read to her in short, manage to have 
 him ever at her side till the wind changed : and poor 
 Mr. Somers, who was so deeply in love that he could 
 not, as Edward did, retaliate, by devoting himself to 
 another, but, in a perfectly wretched state, watched 
 her manoauvres, unhappy in her society, and unable 
 to leave her, was received again, most graciously, as 
 a dear friend ; for she persisted in having no lovers, 
 misunderstanding every lover-like allusion put into 
 words, but not at all chary of love's unspoken language. 
 
 Mr. Templeton, who was also a constant visitor 
 at Deacon Sidney's, looked with indignation at such a 
 course of conduct, and urged Ned to say nothing to 
 her; a resolution which he formed every few days, 
 and which he broke as regularly. Mr. Templeton 
 himself treated her with marked displeasure ; and 
 while he talked much with Esther, Emily and Maria, 
 bestowed very little attention on Jennie. For this, 
 however, she appeared to care very little. She
 
 THE SEWING CIRCLE. 24:9 
 
 glanced at him with a saucy look, as if she would say, 
 " I could have you, too, under my thumb, if I thought 
 you worth the trouble." 
 
 Almost every evening he read aloud to the girls 
 while they sewed; and it was to Esther he appealed, 
 when he found something to praise or to condemn. 
 She understood him ; and though they differed often 
 in their opinions, Mr. Templeton seemed to enjoy 
 quarrelling with her, as Emily called it. 
 
 Esther could not help admiring the firmness, good 
 sense, and candor, with which he defended his side 
 of the question, and his kindness and consideration, 
 which he displayed in various ways. He seemed to 
 understand her dislike to Mr. Dunmore, and often 
 interposed himself between her and her tormentor. In 
 this way they were thrown much together, and ^a 
 more intimate acquaintance showed each much to 
 admire in the other. 
 
 Virginia still retained her place in the affections of 
 Mrs. Sidney ; for that lady, not very clear-sighted, had 
 seen none of her capricious treatment of her son ; and 
 as long as she praised him, which she frequently did, 
 his mother saw no obstacle to the hopes of Edward, 
 which he had hinted to her. 
 
 Aunt Mary said nothing ; but Esther felt that the 
 calm kindness of her manner towards Jennie was very 
 different from the deep tenderness of her eye and 
 voice, which she betrayed towards Maria and herself.
 
 CHAPTEK XXII. 
 
 AS UNEXPECTED MEETING. 
 
 IT was a fine day. " Just the day to return some 
 of your calls, girls," said Emily, as they were seated 
 together. 
 
 " Oh !" sighed Maria, " of all things on earth I de- 
 test making calls, and it is too bad to press such a 
 beautiful day into such service." 
 
 " So much the better," returned Virginia. "If the 
 task is disagreable, you should have all the pleasant 
 things possible ; but, for my part," she continued, " I 
 like to make calls." 
 
 " I cannot conceive of such a state of mind," said 
 Esther; "yet it must be a very desirable one for 
 people who think of having much society, for it is an 
 unavoidable evil." 
 
 "Well," replied Jennie, "I'm just weak-minded 
 enough to like it. I don't have a large amount of 
 subjects to converse on, but I can do pretty well in a 
 five minutes chat on the weather, the last fashion, and 
 the like, and that's pretty much all that's required in 
 making calls." 
 
 "For my part," rejoined Maria, "I can never think 
 of anything to say till it's time to leave."
 
 AN UNEXPECTED MEETING. 251 
 
 " Well, that's my sphere !" returned Virginia; 
 " now, I'm out of my element when I get into intel- 
 lectual society, where you, Maria, are at home." 
 
 "Why, I'm sure," said Maria, "you appeared to 
 be having a fine time last night, talking with Mr. 
 Hammond on Henry Ward Beecher's lectures and 
 sermons, on Whipple's essays, Mr. Giles 1 lectures, and 
 the like." 
 
 "Ah, well," replied Virginia, "I had heard all 
 three of those gentlemen lecture, and so got along 
 pretty well ; but when he got on to Hudson's lectures 
 on Shakespeare, I was really frightened ! I didn't 
 know as I could stand my ground, but by considera- 
 ble exertions, I managed to come off with flying 
 colors." 
 
 " Why, Jennie, hadn't you read them ?" 
 
 " Never a word," replied she, " and what was 
 worse, I never read more than two of Shakespeare's 
 plays in my life." 
 
 " Why didn't you say so, then ?" 
 
 " Oh, I had no idea that he was going to talk on 
 the subject an hour, and as I had allowed him to sup- 
 pose that I knew something about them in the onset, 
 I couldn't get off afterwards. How shocked you look, 
 Maria !'' she continued, " why, it's the most common 
 thing in the world for people to pretend knowledge 
 that they don't possess." 
 
 " I should advise you to read Mrs. Opie," said 
 Maria. 
 
 " Read it yourself, my dear," returned Jennie, " I 
 dare say you tell as many white lies as I do. Come,
 
 252 NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 now, how often do you reply to invitations to call, a 
 thing that you have owned you detest, ' I should be 
 very happy to do so ?' If 1 had time, I could show a 
 great many more such lies, for so they are. The truth 
 is, I'm no worse than the rest of you, girls, but I speak 
 out what the rest of you think. But come, let's get 
 ready to act a few of these same falsehoods." 
 
 They hastened up to their chambers, to dress for 
 their expedition. Emily and Virginia walked along 
 together, while Esther and Maria followed. 
 
 They had made quite a number of calls, and were 
 returning home, when a young gentleman crossed the 
 street, bowed gracefully to Maria and Virginia, and 
 shook hands very cordially. 
 
 Esther looked at Maria in some surprise, for the 
 color had entirely left her cheeks, and she trembled 
 violently. Her companions did not appear to observe 
 her agitation, and Maria, controlling herself, pre- 
 sented Mr. Waldron to Esther and Emily. 
 
 Virginia seemed very happy to meet him ; had a 
 thousand questions to ask him concerning Portland, 
 whence he had come, but Maria scarcely said a word. 
 She seemed confused whenever he addressed her, and 
 answered as briefly as possible. 
 
 Mr. Waldron was tall, and quite handsome. He 
 was pale, and did not seem in good health, but seemed 
 to be in excellent spirits. He had relinquished the 
 task of conversing with Maria, and was now playing 
 the agreeable to Emily and Virginia. 
 
 As they reached home, Virginia asked " how long 
 he intended to remain in Belfast."
 
 AN UNEXPECTED MEETING. 253 
 
 " He had come on business," he replied, " and it 
 was rather uncertain how long his stay would be, as 
 it depended entirely on circumstances." 
 
 He declined going in at present, in reply to Emily's 
 invitation ; but assured her that he would call often 
 while in town ; he then bowed gracefully and took 
 leave. 
 
 In answer to Emily's inquiries, Virginia told her 
 that Mr. Waldron was a young man of good family 
 in Portland, and a very gay and pleasant acquaint- 
 ance. " Gentlemanly in his manners," she added, 
 " as you may see for yourself. Report says, a little 
 dissipated, but I guess, very much like young men in 
 general." 
 
 Mr. Waldron was as good as his word ; he called 
 that evening, and many successive ones. 
 
 Maria seemed as distant as ever in her manners to- 
 wards him, while Virginia amply made up, in her 
 graciousness, for all her companion's deficiencies. 
 
 Both Edward and Mr. Somers were thrown entirely 
 into the shade, by the appearance of Mr. Waldron, 
 and both did not fail to sneer at him as a " dandy, 
 and mere lady's man." 
 
 To Esther, however, he did not appear in such a 
 character. She did not believe, what Virginia very 
 plainly intimated, that he was one of her lovers, who 
 had followed her, to urge his suit ; but, as day after 
 day passed, and still he lingered in Belfast, she began 
 to doubt that his business detained him so long, in 
 that quiet place. 
 
 " Maria," said she, one night, when they had gone
 
 254 NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 to their chamber, which they now shared together, 
 " what do you suppose keeps Mr. Waldron here ? 
 Shouldn't you think he would go before long?" 
 
 " I wish he would," exclaimed Maria. 
 
 " Do you dislike him so much, then ?" asked 
 Esther. 
 
 " No yes " replied Maria, blushing deeply ; then 
 hiding her face in her hands, she burst into tears. 
 
 " What is the matter, my dear ?" whispered Esther, 
 drawing her friend tenderly to her bosom. " Let me 
 share your trouble, and try to console you, as I used 
 to long ago." 
 
 "I will tell you all, Esther/' replied Maria. 
 " Charles Waldron is the only one for whom I ever 
 cared at all. Ever since I came home from school, 
 he has been so kind to me, and so delicate in his at- 
 tentions, that almost before I knew it, I began to love 
 him. At last, he asked me to become his wife ; I 
 owned my affection for him, and if my father should 
 consent, promised to be his. How happy I was that 
 day ! I never dreamed of any obstacle, and what 
 was my surprise, when my father came to me, look- 
 ing, oh, so pale and wretched ! I never saw him 
 so agitated ! He held me in his arms, and told me 
 I was his all, and begged me never to have any 
 thing more to say to Charles. He said that he was 
 very dissipated, and that he could not trust his only 
 daughter to him. He said that it was my best good 
 he sought, and he convinced me that I must give 
 Charles up. I did as father advised, though it gave 
 me great pain. For oh, Esther ! I did not know
 
 AN UNEXPECTED MEETING. 255 
 
 how very much I loved him, till I set about trying 
 not to care for him. Father was very kind to me, 
 doing every thing in his power to make me happy, 
 and I tried to appear cheerful. Charles did not 
 come to the house, but I met him at parties, and 
 I tried to avoid him ; for, oh. Esther ! when he 
 talks to me, I cannot think of any one else, and he 
 makes it out, that I ought to marry him, and seems 
 so unhappy, that my only safe way is to shun him. 
 I was glad to come here, and just as I am begin- 
 ning to be more like myself, he comes too, and I 
 have got it all to do over again." 
 
 " My dearest child," said Esther, " you are doing 
 right, and I love you better than ever, and honor 
 you for your dutiful conduct to your father. You 
 are indeed his all, my love, and you know what a 
 cruel blow it would be to him, if you were to marry 
 one who would make you wretched, for your father 
 is right." 
 
 " I know he is," sighed Maria, " and I shall per- 
 sist in avoiding Charles. If he stays much longer, 
 I shall go home." 
 
 " Come to me in your trials, Maria, as you would 
 to an older sister," said Esther, " and I will try to 
 advise you and help you ; for yours is an unpleasant 
 position." 
 
 Maria buried her face on her friend's shoulder, 
 weeping silently. 
 
 " I have been very unhappy," she said, " but it is 
 a relief to me that you j^now all." 
 
 Esther did not attempt to check her tears. She felt
 
 256 NOW-A-DAT8. 
 
 that they would relieve her ; and at last Maria ceased, 
 saying, as she looked up into Esther's face, "You 
 think me a silly child !" 
 
 " No, dearest," said her friend, " I never was far- 
 ther from such a thought ; but now let us prepare 
 for bed, for I fear you will be sick to-morrow." 
 
 Maria obeyed and they were soon wrapped in slum- 
 ber.
 
 CHAPTEK XXIIL 
 
 A few days passed in the usual manner, sleigh-rides, 
 walks, and company in the evenings helped the hours 
 away agreeably. 
 
 There was to be a party at Mrs. Somers' in honor 
 of Emily's guests that night, and a lovely night it 
 was. 
 
 " The clear moonlight shines on the white surface 
 of the snow-clad fields beautifully ; come and look, 
 Maria !" said Esther, as, ready dressed for the party, 
 she lifted the curtain from the window and looked out 
 on the landscape. 
 
 Deacon Sidney's house was situated on a hill, and, 
 from the front windows, the large evergreens some- 
 what interrupted the view, but, from the side-window 
 where Esther now stood, might be seen not only the 
 waters of the bay, sparkling, clear, and cold in the 
 starlight, but the wide-spread fields, with their drifted 
 and uneven surface, looking like the tossing waves of 
 a suddenly frozen sea, where, occasionally, a leafless 
 tree reminded her of the dismantled wrecks of that 
 same sea, were also visible, and, farther below, the
 
 258 NOW-A-DAY8. 
 
 principal part of the town, with its tall church spires, 
 and the bright lights gleaming from many a happy 
 home, gave life to the picture. 
 
 " What is there more beautiful than our winter 
 landscapes ?" thought she, forgetting, as we are apt to 
 do, how superior we find the charm of each particu- 
 lar season, in its turn, to anything else at that time. 
 
 Perhaps, to a stranger's eye, that same landscape 
 might have looked monotonous and dreary, but, to her 
 mind, the snow-clad ground was associated with all 
 the pleasures of the winter evenings ; those long even- 
 ings so peculiarly adapted to the joys of home. 
 
 It recalled, to her, her youthful romps in the fresh, 
 bracing air, her wild slides down hill with her school- 
 mates, and, later, the cheerful fireside, the bright lights 
 and merry chat of home, where she had pored over 
 so many interesting volumes, in a quiet corner, for- 
 getting the present in the glowing tales of the past 
 that those pages presented ; all this and a thousand 
 similar recollections endeared old Winter to her, and 
 made her see new beauty in the familiar scenes before 
 her. 
 
 She was indeed lost in thought, till the voice of her 
 friend, who, obeying her summons,-had joined her at 
 the window, recalled her from her reverie. 
 
 " It looks like the smile on the face of a corpse," ex- 
 claimed Maria. 
 
 " That is a sad thing to be reminded of by such 
 beauty," returned Esther. "You are not cheerful, 
 and everything takes a tinge from your sadness. 
 Cheer up! my little Maria. You must try and be
 
 MAKIA. 259 
 
 hopeful ! Do let us see some of your old smiles and 
 gaiety, to-night." 
 
 " Are you ready, girls?" asked Emily, tapping light- 
 ly at the door of their chamber. " If you are, let's go 
 and give Grandma a call ; she'll like to see us ready- 
 dressed for the party. Virginia looks like a beauty, 
 to-night, don't she, Ned ?" she continued, as they met 
 him on the staircase. 
 
 " It would be very rude in me to contradict you, 
 whatever might be my opinion," he replied, gazing at 
 her with sufficient admiration to satisfy her, however, 
 as the girls passed him. 
 
 They reached Grandma's room and tapped lightly 
 at the door ; Aunt Mary opened it, and the four girls 
 entered. 
 
 "Wall, gals, so you're dressed for the party !" said 
 Grandma. 
 
 " Yes, and don't we look handsome ?" asked Jennie. 
 
 " Oh yes ! you're tricked out in all. your bravery. 
 You remind me of what the prophet Isaiah says, in 
 the third chapter, ' with your chains, and bracelets, 
 and rings, and wimpling pins, ear-rings, and all your 
 fine apparel,' and the old lady sighed deeply. 
 
 " Take care, gals, that you don't do like the darters 
 of Zion, get ' haughty, and walk with stretched out 
 necks and wanton eyes,' lest you have the same cuss 
 that is pronounced on them. This generation does 
 seem to have it. At least part on it is coming true, 
 ' instead of well-set hair, baldness ;' for, though you 
 gals has pooty good hair, most of folks seem to be hav-
 
 260 NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 ing poor heads on't. Can't you see, gals," she contin- 
 ued, " that we 're living in the last days?" 
 
 " I don't know that I ever thought of it," said Es- 
 ther. 
 
 " Can't you discern the signs of the times ?" replied 
 Grandma. " That's the way with you all ; even Mr. 
 Hammond don't see it. That's fulfilling the Bible, 
 too, ' blind leaders of the blind.' All on it is fulfilling 
 fast. Don't they ' go to and fro,' and isn't ' much 
 knowledge increased ?' The world is dreadful wicked, 
 now-a-days !" 
 
 " Oh Grandma ! I guess it will bear up a great deal 
 more wickedness than it does now," said Virginia. 
 
 " As it was in the days of Noe," replied Mrs. Sid- 
 ney, " so it shall be then. They were marrying and 
 giving in marriage, and knew not till the flood came 
 and took them away." 
 
 " Which looks the handsomest ?" asked Emily, as 
 the old lady paused. 
 
 " Oh ! you all look well enough," said the old lady. 
 " If you only behave as well as you look, you'll all do 
 nicely," and she looked down on her knitting, which 
 she had dropped in the ardor of her speech, and began 
 to make her needles fly fast. 
 
 " You used to go to parties when you were young, 
 didn't you ?" asked Jennie. 
 
 " Wall, yes, child ! I can't say but I did the more 
 fool I." 
 
 " Come, girls," shouted Ked, and, bidding good-b}'e 
 to Grandma, they left the room. 
 
 Aunt Mary had clipped oft' two rose buds from her
 
 MARIA. 261 
 
 single rose-bush, and had added them to the plainly- 
 dressed hair of Esther and Maria. 
 
 " I hope you'll have a fine time," she said, as she 
 bade them good-night. 
 
 In the parlor, they found Mr. Templeton and Mr. 
 Waldron, whom Virginia had invited to accompany 
 them to Mrs. Somers'. All was gaiety and smiles, and 
 Maria did, indeed, appear more like her olden self. 
 
 Charles "Waldron devoted himself quite assiduously 
 to Virginia, and, though Maria could not fail to ob- 
 serve this, she thanked him for it. 
 
 " If we must part," she said to herself, " it makes it 
 a much easier task for me, if he, too, sees the neces- 
 sity of it, and bestows his attentions on another." 
 
 This apparent indifference, on Maria's part, did not 
 seem to be the object which Charles had sought to 
 gain. 
 
 He came towards the latter part of the evening to 
 her side, and said something in a low tone, of which 
 Esther only caught the words " heartless cruel," 
 but which brought the color to Maria's cheek, and a 
 tear to her eye. 
 
 Just as they had bade Mrs. Somers good night, 
 Frederick came up, and requested the pleasure of 
 accompanying Maria home ; before she could reply, 
 Charles Waldron, who stood by her side, answered, 
 " /am to serve as this lady's escort to-night," and ere 
 Maria, surprised at such a remark, could collect her 
 thoughts sufficiently to contradict him, Frederick had 
 turned away. 
 
 They were now alone together ; it was the oppor-
 
 262 NOW-A-DA.Y3. 
 
 tunity which Charles had long sought, but which he 
 had not been able to gain. 
 
 " How could you do so, Charles ?" asked Maria, in 
 an almost pleading tone, as they walked homeward. 
 " You know, as well as I, that we are separated, and 
 that we must try to forget the past." 
 
 "Forget!" he repeated, bitterly. "That may be 
 very easy for you, but for me, death is preferable to 
 life without you. Oh, Maria !" he went on passion- 
 ately, " you are mine in the sight of Heaven, and 
 mine you shall be in the sight of man. I love you 
 more than my life, and you, too, you cannot deny it, 
 return my affection. I see it in every glance of your 
 eye, in every expression of your face. You may try 
 to overcome it, but it is, and it will be, in vain. 
 * What God has joined together, let no man put asun- 
 der.' " 
 
 Maria made no reply, she was weeping ; she had 
 never before seen him so violent, and was half afraid 
 of him. A tear-drop fell on his hand, and a half- 
 suppressed sob met his ear. 
 
 " Forgive me !" he said, in a low and tender voice, 
 contrasting strongly with the triumphant tone he had 
 been speaking in a few moments" before. "Forgive 
 me, dearest ! I can never forgive myself for causing 
 you, whom I would die to save from annoyance, a 
 moment's pain. Say you forgive me, Maria, for, it is 
 my great love for you that makes me forget myself. 
 Oh, Maria !" he continued, " since you left me I have 
 tried to steel my heart against you ! I have tried to 
 think you heartless, and when I could not, for your
 
 MABIA. 263 
 
 words, when you told me of your love, ever sounded 
 in my ears, then I would try to drown my sorrows in 
 the wine-cup. There I found temporary oblivion ! 
 What do I care, if I am utterly ruined, soul and body ? 
 You will only see in me a wretch to shudder at, as 
 you do now ! And since no one cares for me, why 
 should I wish to live ? The sooner I die, and free you 
 from my persecutions, as you have called them, the 
 better it will be. For I tell you, Maria, solemnly, 
 that I never will give over my pursuit of you, till you 
 are mine, or I am dead /" 
 
 " Oh, Charles !" exclaimed poor Maria, over whose 
 weaker nature his violent and determined spirit 
 always gained the ascendancy, " You will kill me ! 
 This continual struggle between my duty and love 
 for my father, and my love for you, is wearing me 
 out ! Even Esther sees how pale and sad I am. 
 Your pursuit of me may terminate in a way, you do 
 not seem to think of in tny death. I sometimes 
 think that you will break my heart." 
 
 "But are you doing your duty?" asked Charles. 
 " Is it right for you to drive me to dissipation, as the 
 only means of forgetting your cruelty? And must 
 you," he continued, " even if you resolve never to be 
 my wife, yet treat me as an outcast, shun me like a 
 monster ? Why not receive me as a friend, if no 
 more will you not do so ?" he asked, in those soft, 
 low tones, which Maria could never refuse. 
 
 " I will do so," she replied, forgetting that she had 
 felt that her only safety was in leaving him altoge- 
 ther.
 
 264 NOW-A.-DAY8. 
 
 A triumphant smile passed over his face. He had 
 gained his object. 
 
 " Let her receive me as a friend,'' he thought, " and 
 she is mine, in spite of all the world," as he bade her 
 good night, and lifting her hand tenderly to his lips, 
 left her. 
 
 " Oh, Esther !" said Maria, as she sat by her friend's 
 side, " Charles does at last, I hope, see how vain it is 
 to importune me ; he is to be my friend now, and 
 nothing more." 
 
 Esther shook her head doubtingly, but made no re- 
 ply. Several days passed, and, as usual, Charles 
 Waldron was a frequent guest at Mrs. Sidney's. 
 
 His lively sallies of wit, and frank manners, made 
 him a favorite with all, particularly with Edward, 
 since he had told him, that he would by no means 
 interfere in his suit of Virginia. 
 
 Maria saw him often, for it was his delight to sit 
 by her side while she sewed, to stand near her when 
 she sung, to turn her music when she played, and, in 
 short, anticipating her very wish. Whenever she 
 was joked at all about her lover, as Emily and Virgi- 
 nia now began to call him, she would reply half pet- 
 tishly, that u it was very singular "that a lady could 
 not have a gentleman friend, without being teazed 
 about him, as if she must be wishing to marry him." 
 
 She avoided now all conversation with Esther, de- 
 claring, whenever she was alone in her chamber with 
 her, which she took care should be only when she re- 
 tired, " that she was extremely sleepy ;" and as
 
 MARIA. 265 
 
 Esther saw that any interference on her part was 
 unwelcome, she ceased to say anything to her. 
 
 Late at night, she was aroused by a slight noise, 
 she was a light sleeper, and opening her eyes, she 
 saw Maria, ready dressed, standing by her bedside. 
 
 "Why, Maria!" she exclaimed, "What are you 
 dressed for ?" 
 
 " Hush, Esther !" replied Maria, " Since you have 
 waked up, I may as well tell you ; I am going away." 
 
 " And where ?" asked her friend. Then, as the 
 truth flashed upon her, she continued, "Not with 
 Charles Waldron ?" 
 
 " Yes," returned Maria, calmly, " with him. I have 
 decided that I ought to do so." 
 
 " But your father," said Esther, looking at her fix- 
 edly. " Imagine him in his desolate home, his grey 
 hairs bowed with sorrow, over the disobedience of 
 the child he trusted, and that he loved so well." 
 
 "Spare me!" exclaimed Maria, as tears streamed 
 over her cheeks. " I am indeed wretched ! Which- 
 ever way I turn, I bring misery !" 
 
 " Do not go, Maria ! Your first duty is to your 
 father. He is no tyrant ! You see, as well as he, that 
 this rash step would plunge you into misery. You are 
 blinded by your love for Charles, bewildered by his 
 arguments. If you do this, you will never cease to 
 regret it. Depend upon it," continued Esther solemn- 
 ly, " the curse of Heaven will rest on such an act of 
 disobedience !" 
 
 " But I have promised Charles, that I will meet him 
 near the church. He will wait for ine ! I must go," 
 12
 
 266 NOW-A-DAY8. 
 
 said Maria, breaking from the clasp in which Esther 
 enfolded her. "I will tell him that I cannot go with 
 him to be married. I will repeat to him, that I never 
 will be his wife without my father's consent." 
 
 " And he will urge you," interrupted Esther, "and 
 you will forget everything in the world but him, and 
 you will do as he wishes." 
 
 Maria wept silently. At last she spoke. " I must 
 see him to-night, if we never meet again. Do you go 
 with me, and I will come back with you. But oh ! I 
 must go ! and, if you do not accompany me, I shall 
 go alone." 
 
 " But what if I arouse the house ?" asked Esther. 
 
 " Oh ! you cannot be so cruel ! Do go with me !" 
 pleaded Maria, " and I will promise that it shall be 
 the last time that I see him." 
 
 Esther hesitated. " I don't know but I am doing a 
 very foolish thing," she said, as she, at last, yielded to 
 Maria's entreaties, and, dressing herself, walked softly 
 out of the house. 
 
 It was but a short distance to the church ; there 
 Charles awaited Maria with a horse and sleigh. He 
 sprang to meet her, exclaiming, " Then you are here at 
 last. Spring into the sleigh, and, in a few hours, wo 
 shall be beyond pursuit ; you shall be mine, and no 
 one can take you from me." 
 
 " Oh Charles, I cannot go !" whispered Maria. 
 
 He started, and, for the first time, noticed her com- 
 panion. " Miss Hastings !'' ejaculated he. u The 
 devil !" he muttered between his teeth ; then, address- 
 ing her, with much politeness, said, k< you are too kind
 
 MARIA. 267 
 
 to accompany Maria. I presume you intend to act as 
 brides-maid !" 
 
 " No, Mr. "Waldron ! I hope to assist this poor in- 
 fatuated girl to free herself from you. Your present 
 conduct proves you unworthy of her. A man, who 
 can persuade a daughter to forget her duty to her aged 
 parent, will not find it a difficult task to free himself 
 from his own duty as a husband. Maria has come to 
 bid you farewell forever !" 
 
 Charles Waldron listened, with ill-disguised impa- 
 tience, to Esther's remarks, then turning to Maria who 
 stood near, he said, " Speak, Maria, tell me that this 
 is not so !" 
 
 " It is indeed the truth," replied Maria. " I have 
 come to bid you farewell ! This is our last meeting !" 
 
 " It can not be so !" exclaimed Charles, " or, at 
 least, you have been frightened into saying so, by 
 Miss Hastings. You do not really mean it ! You 
 could not be so cruel, to hold the cup of happiness to 
 my lips but to snatch it away untasted !" 
 
 " I have done wrong," sighed Maria, " but because 
 I have taken one false step, I must not take another. 
 I have decided," and she sprang to Esther's side, cling- 
 ing there, as if for protection against his anticipated 
 violence. But, instead of the burst of passion which 
 she had expected, he addressed her in a low, sad, and 
 reproachful voice. 
 
 " Then you despise me ! You cannot trust me ! 
 You dash the last hope from me ; instead of giving 
 me kind words of encouragement and your assistance 
 in the difficult task of reforming and breaking off from
 
 NOW-A-DAY8. 
 
 my associates, you turn from me coldly, you loathe 
 me, and leave me to the only ones who speak to me 
 as a friend, my boon companions, and this," he added 
 bitterly, " is that boasted thing, woman's love ! Like 
 the rest of the world, you, Maria, cast off the rope to 
 which the poor struggling wretch clings !" 
 
 " Oh Charles !" exclaimed Maria, in a voice choked 
 with emotion, " you will break my heart ! Let me 
 go !'' she said wildly to Esther, who held her firmly in 
 her arms. " Let me go ! I will not forsake him in 
 his wretchedness ! My place is by his side !" 
 
 " Remember your father !" said Esther ; " when he, 
 sick and feeble, calls vainly for his child, shall a stran- 
 ger's voice reply to him ? a stranger's hand supply his 
 wants 2 Remember that you make his home a wretch- 
 ed one ; you leave him, in his old age, desolate and 
 childless!" 
 
 " Choose between us !" said Charles, approaching 
 her, for he felt sure of a decision in his favor. 
 
 " Oh Esther !" exclaimed poor Maria, " what shall 
 I do?" 
 
 " Mr. "Waldron !" said Esther, turning to him, " you, 
 alone, are the cause of the misery of one you profess 
 to love ! It is your dissipation alone, which causes 
 the objections of her father ; it depends on you, alone, 
 to remove that. If you love her, as you say, call that 
 strong will, which you now exert to overpower Maria's 
 weaker nature, to aid you in reforming ! If you cannot 
 break from your associates without her help, you never 
 can with it ! Take your stand firmly, as a man should. 
 Do not picture your future to her as that of a desolate
 
 MARIA. 269 
 
 wretch, which is untrue, but go into the world, and 
 show yourself worthy of her. Be worthy of yourself ! 
 You have talents of a high order. Go, and, in a few 
 years' time, if you choose, you may claim her as your 
 bride, and receive her from her father's hands, with 
 that father's blessing, instead of, as now, stealing her 
 away, carrying sorrow to an old man's heart, and, per- 
 haps, pursued by his curse !" 
 
 Charles Waldron hesitated ; his better nature was 
 roused. " Is this what you would say, Maria ?" he 
 asked. 
 
 " It is," was her reply ; " go, and may God bless 
 you !" 
 
 " One last embrace," he said, and as Esther hesi- 
 tated, he added, " Do not fear me ! I will not take 
 her against her will !" 
 
 He pressed her convulsively in his arms, and re- 
 peated, " I promise to claim you, in the presence of 
 the world, in four years' time, if I have the right to 
 do so, or if I fail, we never meet again." 
 
 He laid the half-fainting girl in Esther's arms, and, 
 springing into the sleigh, was soon lost to sight. 
 
 It was with great difficulty that Esther bore her to 
 the house ; but here, Maria made a great effort, that 
 she might reach her room without awaking any one, 
 and succeeded in doing so. And as Esther laid her 
 upon the bed. she fell on her knees, by her side, ex- 
 claiming, involuntarily, " Thank God ! she is saved !"
 
 CHAPTER XXIY. 
 
 A PEEP INTO FUTURITY. 
 
 THE morning sun shone brightly into Esther's face, 
 as she woke from her troubled sleep, and glancing at 
 Maria, she was almost frightened to see the pallor of 
 her cheek. She was already awake, and in answer 
 to Esther's inquiries, said that " she had not slept 
 at all." 
 
 " You are unable to go down to breakfast," replied 
 Esther ; " I will make excuses for you. Try, now, 
 my dear, to sleep a little, for you need rest and 
 quiet." 
 
 " Maria is not well this morning," repeated Esther, 
 in answer to the numerous questions which met her, 
 on her entrance of the dining-room. " She did not 
 sleep much last night, and is trying now to make up 
 for the lack of it." 
 
 Breakfast was soon over, and they had hardly en- 
 tered the sitting-room, when a note was handed to 
 Emily, from Charles Waldron, telling her that he 
 was obliged to leave town suddenly, which must be 
 his excuse for not coming to make a parting call. 
 
 " I'm really sorry that he has gone," said Virginia, 
 " for he's such a nice, pleasant, social companion." 
 
 " We shall certainly miss him a great deal," re-
 
 A PEEP INTO FUTURITY. 271 
 
 marked Emily, while Esther went to her chamber to 
 tell Maria that he had left Belfast. 
 
 To her great satisfaction, she found her friend 
 sleeping, and returned to the sitting-room. 
 
 Emily and Virginia were talking together quite 
 earnestly. "Emily is calling her names!" said Jer- 
 nie, as Esther re-entered. 
 
 " What is she calling you ?" asked Esther. 
 
 " Oh ! a coquette !" replied Jennie. " Now, it 
 isn't true, is it 2" 
 
 " Emily !" called Mrs. Sidney, " come here a mo- 
 ment !" and she hurried out of the room to obey the 
 summons, while Esther replied : " Since you have 
 asked me such a home question, I must say, that I 
 think you are ! And, Jennie," she continued, " al- 
 low me to use the freedom of a friend, in telling 
 you, that I think you are cruelly trifling with Edward 
 Sidney and Frederick Somers. It seems to me, that 
 you ought to decide between them, and not keep 
 them both in a state of suspense, as you now do." 
 
 "Keally, Miss Hastings!" replied Virginia, her 
 eyes flashing fire, and cheeks flushing with anger, 
 " you have given me quite a lecture. As if I must 
 choose to find a husband, in either Edward Sidney 
 or Frederick Somers ! At any rate," she added, " if 
 I do flirt a little, I do not practice my arts upon the 
 betrothed of another, like some others I could name." 
 
 " What do you mean ?" asked Esther, in her turn 
 indignant. 
 
 " Just what I say," replied Virginia. " If the coat 
 fits, take it." 

 
 272 NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 Esther looked at her, in speechless indignation. 
 
 " Really, Esther," said Virginia, after a moment's 
 pause, " I wish I had your eyes. You make a pretty 
 good use of them, I confess, but I could do better. I 
 suppose that is a withering glance, of which I have 
 heard so much, though I have never been favored 
 with one, of such power, before. I wonder that I am 
 not annihilated, yet I am, I believe, unscathed. I 
 must be encased in a three-fold coat of armor." 
 
 Esther was on the point of replying that she was 
 right, that nothing could penetrate her protection of 
 assurance, but she made no such reply : " I do not 
 know what you mean," she said instead. 
 
 " Then, why, my dear, did you fly into such a pas- 
 sion, and blush so deeply, if you were so innocent ? 
 No, Miss Esther, with those deep-seeing eyes of yours, 
 you are not unconscious that Mr. Templeton is dead 
 in love with you." 
 
 " Virginia !" replied Esther, calmly, " I hope you 
 are jesting ; at any rate, I must request you to abstain 
 from such expressions. If your words are in jest, they 
 are unwelcome ; if they are serious, they are insult- 
 ing." 
 
 " Esther, my dear," was Jennie's reply, " you 
 should go on to the stage. Your air and manner 
 would do justice to any Tragedy Queen. I have no 
 doubt that you would be a star in a very short time." 
 Then turning to the window, she began humming 
 " Oh, no ! we never mention her," while Esther, half 
 vexed with her, said nothing. 
 
 Emily soon entered. " What shall we do with our-
 
 A PEEP INTO FUTURITY. 273 
 
 selves to-day?" she asked. " I have just been in to 
 see Maria; she says she feels much better, and is 
 about getting up. What do you say, after she has 
 taken her breakfast, to going to old Mrs. Watson's, 
 and having our fortunes told ?" 
 
 ."That it would be capital sport," said Virginia, 
 while Esther smilingly replied that she should like to 
 go also. 
 
 " Very well, then, we will have the horse harnessed, 
 after Maria has breakfasted, and ride there ; it is only 
 about a mile from here, and the drive will do Maria 
 good." 
 
 They were soon ready, and started on their way ; 
 at last, they reached the house a little low cottage, 
 which, failing to receive any paint from its owner, 
 had assumed, from the hand of Time, a dirty brown 
 hue. 
 
 Emily pushed open the outer door, as it was ajar, 
 and stepped in. The entry was unfinished ; there 
 were no balusters to the stair-case, and the sides of 
 the place were lathed only. Several water-pails orna- 
 mented the entry, over which they very nearly stum- 
 bled. 
 
 They knocked at the inner door for some time in 
 vain, though they heard heavy footsteps in the next 
 room. 
 
 At last the door opened, and a small- framed woman, 
 a little bent by age, stood before them. She was far 
 from prepossessing in her appearance ; her complex- 
 ion sallow and face wrinkled, her hair hung in elf- 
 12*
 
 274 NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 locks from under her cap, and her eyes were keen and 
 piercing. 
 
 " Wall !" was Mrs. Watson's first salutation, " What 
 under the sun do you stand there, knockin' and 
 knockin', as if you was goin' to tear anybody's house 
 down. When you hear folks round, and they don't 
 come to the door, yon orter go where they be ; of 
 course they're busy, and don't want to be called off." 
 
 " Can you wait upon us, this morning ?" asked 
 Emily. 
 
 " I dunno," was the reply, " I hev hed lots of com- 
 pany this mornin'. ' When it rains it alus pours,' 
 and they alus come the wrong time. I hedn't got 
 my bed made nor nothin' done, and I was detar- 
 mined to git my bed done, when I heerd you ; that's 
 what I was a doin' on when you come. It's most 
 dinner-time now, and my old man '11 be hoppin' mad, 
 ef his dinner haint ready when he gits home. But 
 you might as well come in ; you're coldin' my room, 
 keepin' the door open. I don't want to warm all out 
 doors." 
 
 The girls obeyed her summons, and wiping the dust 
 out of four chairs with her apron, she offered seats to 
 her company, all the while talking. 
 
 " It's alus jist so; I niver knowed it to fail. Folks 
 alus foriver comes the wrong time. Now, last week, 
 I should hev been glad to seen somebody, but here I 
 sot, day after day, and no livin cretur come nigh me. 
 And to-day and yesterday 1 was so driv that I didn't 
 actually know whether I was on my head or my 
 heels."
 
 A PEKP INTO FUTURITY. 275 
 
 While she was delivering her tirade, Esther looked 
 around the room with some curiosity. 
 
 The floor was unpainted, but clean ; a bench stood 
 under one window, and a table under the other ; a 
 small cooking-stove occupied the centre of the room ; 
 behind this was a clothes-line, on which hung several 
 towels, a pair or two of stockings, and an apron. The 
 chairs were of Indian manufacture, with straight 
 backs and basket-work seats ; a small closet, or rather 
 a few shelves, covered with dishes, stood opposite the 
 window ; by the side of this, upon a water-pail, laid 
 the dough-board and rolling-pin, close to which hung 
 a roller-towel. 
 
 While Esther was making observations, Emily was 
 urging the old lady to tell their fortunes. 
 
 " You will have plenty of time," she said, and at 
 last Mrs. Watson pulled out her table, wiped it with 
 her apron, which seemed to answer a great many pur- 
 poses, and going to a bag which hung in the corner, 
 took out an old and much worn pack of cards, arid 
 shuffling them, handed them to Virginia to cut in 
 three piles, telling her to wish each time. 
 
 Virginia drew her chair to the table and did as she 
 was commanded. 
 
 " Wall !" said the old lady, taking her cards up, 
 and laying them, one by one, on the table, in rows. 
 " Wall ! You're a gal that hez a great many beaux 
 you go into a great deal of company, and haint 
 never hed no great trouble. You wisht somethin' 
 about a dark-haired feller, and you'll git your wish ; 
 but you'll hev a little trouble gittin' on't. There's a
 
 276 NOW-A-DAY8. 
 
 light complected feller, that bears a good heart for 
 you, but you don't care nothin' about him your back 
 is turned to him," she said, pointing to the queen of 
 hearts, which was the card she called Virginia. 
 "There's an old man dreadful taken with you," she 
 went on. " He wants you orfully ; see, he's stand in' 
 on his head, he's in sich a hurry," pointing to the 
 knave of clubs. Cut agin, and I'll tell ye whether 
 you hev him or not." 
 
 Yirginia did so, and the old lady re-commenced : 
 
 " You don't live where you're stayin' now ; you're 
 goin' to move soon. There you be ; there's good luck 
 round you. This is a good fortin' ; you've seen your 
 wust days. There's money round that old feller ; he's 
 nearer you than tuthers be this time. Cut agin !" 
 
 The third time she announced that there was a let- 
 ter coming to her. " Good news in it," she said. 
 " You'll be married in six weeks or six months to the 
 old feller. He'll be a good husband to you." 
 
 Maria's turn now came, and very nearly the same 
 fortune was in store for her ; it was varied, however, 
 by a present, and a journey over the water. 
 
 " You won't be married quite so soon as t'other gal, 
 nor you haint got quite so good a fortin', but it's pooty 
 good. There's an old man got a good heart for you ; 
 I guess it's your father. There's a light complected 
 feller and a dark complected feller in love with you. 
 You wisht about one on 'em, but I'm afeard, my dear, 
 that you won't git your wish ; there's a disappoint- 
 ment near it, but you may git it arter all : there haint 
 no very bad ceards round it. You're goin' to hcv a
 
 A PEEP INTO FUTURITY. 277 
 
 bit of sickness, yon or somebody very near you, p'raps 
 it's your father, but he'll git well again." 
 
 She now proceeded to tell Esther's fortune, first 
 filling her tea-kettle, and putting in some potatoes to 
 bake. 
 
 " We must hev dinner for all fortins," she said, as 
 she resumed her seat. Esther, she told that she had 
 lost a near friend not long since, which Esther's dress 
 indicated, and at which she expressed no surprise. 
 
 " You're a quiet kind of a gal," she said, " and 
 don't meddle with nobody's business but your own. 
 You have seen your wust days ; there's good luck in 
 store for you. You are goin' to be married sooner 
 than you think fur ; in less than a year. You won't 
 have no greats of a house, but you don't care about 
 show ; you'd rather hev one room, and keep it neat 
 and clean. Sally Jenkins was in here last night," she 
 went on, suddenly pausing in the midst of her fortune 
 telling. " She and a real nice-looking feller. Do 
 you know whether she's courted or not ?" 
 
 Esther did not, as Miss Jenkins was not one of her 
 acquaintances. 
 
 "So Peggy Baker is married at last," continued 
 Mrs. Watson, handing the cards to Esther to shuffle. 
 " I alus thought she'd come to, and hev him." 
 
 " I never did," said Virginia, very demurely, while 
 her companions looked at her in astonishment. 
 
 " Oh ! I knowed she would," returned Mrs. Wat- 
 son. " I see his love-letters. I s'pose I've heerd five 
 hundred read, but his'n beat all. Oh! they made 
 my very blood run cold ! so good, passages of scrip-
 
 278 NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 ture in 'em. ' Oh, Peggy !' says he, ' I love you 
 dearly, I do wisht I could see you ; I shall sartin die 
 without you !' Oh, it brought tears to my eyes to 
 hear um. Wall ! he'll make her a good husband." 
 
 She now proceeded to finish telling Esther's fortune, 
 which was speedily accomplished. Emily declined 
 having her's told ; the ninepences were paid, and the 
 girls bade her good-bye, thanking her for her repeated 
 invitations to come again, as she said she hadn't " half 
 time to tell their fortins." 
 
 " She is a great curiosity," they repeated, and 
 laughed gaily at the similarity of their fortunes.
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 A TRIAL. 
 
 IT was night. Maria slept quietly by her side, but 
 Esther tossed restlessly upon her sleepless couch. 
 
 The words of Virginia, " Mr. Templeton loves you !" 
 seemed ringing in her ears. " Is it so ?" she thought, 
 " and if so, why should ray heart bound exultingly at 
 the idea ? Have I then given my affections to the 
 betrothed of another ?" 
 
 She would have banished the unwelcome thoughts, 
 and in a pleasant reverie, pictured to herself her fu- 
 ture as the wife of one so noble, good, and generous, 
 as Mr. Templeton. 
 
 She hardly thought of Emily at all, but a pang of 
 self-reproach struck her as she Reflected on the fate of 
 her friend. 
 
 "Shall I then bring wretchedness upon her?" she 
 asked herself, " selfish, heartless being that I am !" 
 She tried now to cheat herself into the belief that it 
 was only as a friend that she regarded him ; but the 
 pang that struck her heart, as she thought of him as 
 the husband of another, convinced her of the truth, 
 unwelcome as it was, and she resolved to look it fear-
 
 SioO NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 lessly in the face, and to set herself at once about the 
 task of estranging herself from him. 
 
 " I must avoid him," she thought, " for I cannot 
 trust myself in his society. Weak, foolish girl, that 
 I am !" 
 
 Bitterly she reproached herself, but at last, having 
 made her resolutions, and marked out her future 
 course, she fell asleep. 
 
 For several days following, she adhered to her de- 
 termination. She excused herself on one plea after 
 another, when Mr. Templeton offered to read to her ; 
 and if left alone with him, replied briefly to his re- 
 marks, and if possible left him. She noticed that this 
 unusual reserve seemed to give him pain ; he ap- 
 peared surprised, but said nothing ; and in the pre- 
 sence of others, she treated him as ever in a calm 
 and friendly manner. 
 
 One day Virginia, Emily, and Maria had gone out 
 to take a ride. Esther had declined going, as she had 
 several letters to write, and was busily engaged in so 
 doing, when Mr. Templeton entered. 
 
 " I am sorry," she said, in a slightly confused man- 
 ner, " that the girls h%e all gone away ; I will speak 
 to aunt Mary ;" and she arose to do. so* 
 
 " Stop, Esther !" replied Mr. Templeton, looking at 
 her reproachfully ; " I am not at all sorry to have an 
 opportunity to ask, what is the meaning of the reserve 
 with which you treat me ? Is it, as I have thought, 
 that you have discovered my feelings towards you, and 
 would chill me, by the expression of your indiffer- 
 ence?"
 
 A TRIAL. 281 
 
 " Mr. Terapleton," replied Esther, endeavoring to 
 release her hand, which he held firmly in his grasp, 
 " I am not aware that I have given occasion for any 
 grave charge. I regard you as a friend, and ever 
 shall, as a very kind and highly valued one. I hope 
 to be esteemed by you in the same light." 
 
 " Friend !" repeated Mr. Templeton ; then suddenly 
 exclaimed, " Do not pretend to misunderstand me, 
 Esther. You do not, or at least you shall not ! I am 
 ready fearlessly to avow, that I love you, as I never 
 dreamed that I could love woman, with a devotion 
 such as no one ever can offer you, since I am willing 
 even to be called dishonorable to gain you. And 
 now tell me that I am pledged to another ; that all the 
 world will despise me ; tell me this, and yet I can 
 bear it. For if these are your words, yet in your 
 heart you will not say so, for I have read your inmost 
 soul, Esther. You love me ! I read it in your vary- 
 ing color, in your look, even in the coldness with 
 which you have treated me in everything." 
 
 Esther's eyes flashed indignantly for this manner 
 of triumphantly asserting that she loved him roused 
 her pride as she replied, ince you have uttered 
 the words that I would have said, you have spared me 
 the pain of telling one, whom I ha/ve esteemed indeed, 
 that he is about proving himself unworthy of the high 
 place in my regard that I had given him. And how 
 have I then given you occasion to make the bold 
 avowal that /return your love, as you are pleased to 
 call your sentiments towards me? You mistake me, 
 Mr. Templeton, if you think that I regard the solemn
 
 282 NOW-A-DAY8. 
 
 tie which binds you to Emily as a light thing, to be 
 cast off as the whim takes you. If I have been so 
 weak as to forget this it was but for a moment. I 
 have some regard for my honor, if you have none." 
 
 " Forgive me," returned Mr. Templeton, when she 
 had ceased speaking, " but hear me," he added, as she 
 turned to leave the room. " Is it then more honorable, 
 since you tell me I have forgotten it, to marry Emily, 
 when my whole heart is another's ? To make her my 
 wife, in the sight of man, when this is but a solemn 
 mockery in the sight of God ! Shall I not do her a 
 deeper wrong, in so doing, than if now, before it is 
 too late, I tell her that I was mistaken in my feelings 
 towards her, that I do not love her as I ought. Tell 
 me, Esther ! Forgive my rash and passionate words, 
 and show me what I should do in such trying circum- 
 stances. Be my friend now, if you will not be more.'' 
 
 Esther was much moved, for a voice in her heart 
 was seconding his words. She hesitated " But Emily ! 
 she loves him so deeply, so devotedly ; shall I cause 
 her this great grief ?" she thought, and despised her- 
 self for her momentary hesitation. 
 
 " Mr. Templeton," said she, " you do love Emily ! 
 It is only a momentary infatuation which has led you 
 to imagine that you preferred me. You have won 
 her affections, and it is right that you should marry 
 her. You will conquer this fancy for me, and, happy 
 in the consciousness of doing right, and blessed with 
 her love, you will forget me ;" and as she pronounced 
 these words, which she felt were to separate her from 
 nim forever, her voice faltered.
 
 A TRIAL. 283 
 
 " Oh, Esther," exclaimed Mr. Templeton, " how can 
 you thus do violence to your nature ? Are you not 
 doing yourself a deeper wrong than the fancied one 
 to Emily ? For, Esther, you mistake me ; calm, cold, 
 and unimpassioned as I may have appeared to you, 
 to others, and even to myself, I see now that there is 
 a depth to my feelings of which I had never dreamed, 
 until my love for you has revealed my secret soul. I 
 thought that I loved Emily ! But now I see that I 
 knew not what it was to love. You have taught me 
 this ! You have showed me what happiness might be 
 mine, and yet turn from me with cold words of duty, 
 bidding me go on, where every step plunges me deeper 
 into misery ! Is it the sincere and upright Esther 
 Hastings who condemns me to a life of hypocrisy ?" 
 
 Esther trembled and turned pale. Mr. Templeton 
 noticed the impression he had made, and added, 
 " Weigh well what you say ! for on your decision 
 hangs, not only my life-long happiness, but that of 
 Emily. Think you that she will not soon perceive that 
 my heart is not hers ? and will she not reproach me 
 for the tenfold greater wrong that I do her, in marry- 
 ing her, than if I had taken the straight-forward 
 course of telling her the truth now? It may cause 
 her a little sorrow at first, but I know her ; she has not 
 the depth of heart that you have, Esther." 
 
 At the mention of Emily, Esther recovered herself 
 at once. " You do not know Emily," she said, " if 
 you think she has not heart. Her very life is in the 
 affections. You are wound into her inmost nature ; 
 and if you leave her now, you cast a blight on her
 
 284 NOW A-DAY8. 
 
 young life. You deceive yourself, if you hope for 
 happiness, when you have rushed on in the path which 
 wild, reckless passion would point out as the true one, 
 heedless of the broken heart of one whom you have 
 vowed to cherish. No, it is right for you to marry 
 her, and in the right you will find the only true hap- 
 piness." 
 
 "And shall I cause no sorrow to you, Esther?" 
 asked her companion, in low, tender tones. 
 
 She made no reply for a moment, then answered : 
 " You have already caused me pain, by speaking to 
 me as you have done, and I should never have list- 
 ened to such words from the betrothed of my friend. 
 Such weakness I must expiate by repentance. But 
 you do not inflict on me a life-long grief, as you would 
 on poor Emily." 
 
 " Then you will not admit that you love me ?" he 
 exclaimed. 
 
 " To what purpose do you ask me to do such a wild 
 and foolish thing ?" replied Esther. " You have prom- 
 ised to abide by my decision. You have done Emily 
 a great wrong, in gaining her affections, while you have 
 withheld your own. The only remedy in your power 
 is to strive now to give her your whole heart." 
 
 "Noble girl !" replied Mr. Templeton, as he looked 
 at her, with ardent admiration. " I will follow your 
 counsels ; let me still remain your friend. Forget and 
 forgive my mad folly," he added, taking her hand, 
 almost reverentially, and, bidding her farewell, left 
 her. 
 
 Once alone, Esther's assumed fortitude gave way.
 
 A TRIAL. 285 
 
 She hastened to her chamber, and, fastening her door, 
 flung herself upon her couch, and wept bitterly. Yet 
 she did not regret the course which she had pursued. 
 She looked into the future. Alas ! all was a blank 
 there. " Shall I, then," she thought, " because I have 
 met with one heavy blow, sink, crushed beneath it ? 
 I, who can counsel others so bravely, shall I, then, at 
 once yield to despair ? No ! let me now act as I have 
 advised others ; let me be up and doing. And have I 
 not, too, been in danger of forgetting the great Cre- 
 ator, while fixing my affection on one of his crea- 
 tures !" 
 
 She arose, and, falling upon her knees by her bed- 
 side, prayed fervently to be aided in the path which 
 she felt that she had done right in choosing. As she 
 prayed she grew calmer ; and there anew she devoted 
 herself to the cause of Christ. 
 
 She had hardly arisen from her position, when a tap 
 at the door was heard. She opened it, and admitted 
 aunt Mary. 
 
 " You are not well to-day," said she, fondly smooth- 
 ing Esther's disordered hair. " Let me bathe your 
 head now, for your eyes show plainly enough that 
 you are suffering from a head-ache." 
 
 Esther suffered her it> lead her to a seat, for a faint- 
 ness was coming over her, and she fell back, pale and 
 death-like, in her chair. Aunt Mary, at once dashing 
 cold water upon her, restored her to consciousness. 
 
 " My poor child," she whispered, softly, as she bore 
 her to the bed, " what has happened to you ?" 
 
 " Oh ! it is nothing," replied Esther, " or, at least,
 
 286 NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 nothing that you can help," and tears, which she could 
 not restrain, flowed over her cheeks. 
 
 " At least I can sympathize with you, my child," 
 returned Aunt Mary, " and perhaps I have read your 
 coming sorrows, even before you yourself knew them. 
 Do not tremble so, my love. One, who has suffered 
 as I have done, gains a marvellous quickness in seeing 
 the woes of others. Am I not right in thinking that 
 Mr. Templeton loves you ?" 
 
 Esther buried her face in her hands, and murmured, 
 in the deepest humiliation, " alas, Aunt Mary, / have 
 been so weak and so wicked as to return it." 
 
 Miss Sidney pressed her warmly to her heart, and, 
 lying on her motherly bosom in tears and blushes, 
 Esther told her all. 
 
 " God bless you, my own noble child !" said Aunt 
 Mary, when she had finished ; then, folding her in her 
 warm embrace, added, "your secret is as safe as if 
 you had entrusted it to your mother's keeping." 
 
 Several days had passed. Esther had regained her 
 calm cheerfulness of manner, but she felt restless and 
 unhappy. Strive as she might against depression, she 
 could not wholly overcome it. " I must busy myself 
 about something," she resolved, and soon made known 
 her determination to return to-rXewton. 
 
 Emily warmly urged her to prolong her visit, but 
 she had decided and was unmoved. Maria and Vir- 
 ginia, too, said that they had already prolonged their 
 stay longer than they had any idea of doing, and, in 
 the course of a few days, the three friends left together. 
 
 Esther had no sooner reached Newton than she an-
 
 A TRIAL. 287 
 
 nounced her intention of teaching again, and was reso- 
 lute in her determination, though it was vehemently 
 opposed by both Margaret and her father and mother. 
 
 Mr. Wilton, at last, finding that it was of no use to 
 say more to her, obtained for her a situation as assist- 
 ant in a flourishing boarding-school at Newton, so that 
 Mrs. Wilton might not be left alone, he said. 
 
 Employment, she felt, was what she needed, and, 
 engrossed in her duties, she soon felt, as she appeared, 
 like her olden self. 
 
 Months slipped rapidly away, and, in the autumn, 
 a letter from Emily announced her approaching union 
 with Mr. Templeton, and requested Esther to be her 
 bridesmaid. 
 
 This announcement, though it was what Esther had 
 desired and expected, caused her some sadness, but 
 she reproached herself, and struggled violently to 
 overcome her weakness. In a great measure she suc- 
 ceeded ; but she felt that she could not perform the 
 friendly service which Emily asked. 
 
 She wrote her kindly and cheerfully, wishing her 
 all happiness, but declining to act as bridesmaid, al- 
 leging, as an excuse, her inability to leave her school 
 duties, as, indeed, it would have been very incove- 
 nient. 
 
 Long letters from Virginia and Maria soon reached 
 her, giving her glowing descriptions of the wedding. 
 Maria, in a postscript added, that oSTed Somers had, at 
 last, been rejected by Virginia, and was about sailing 
 for Europe.
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 VIRGINIA AT HOME. 
 
 THE afternoon sun was shining brightly into a hand- 
 somely furnished parlor in Portland, where Mrs. Clif- 
 ton and Virginia were seated alone together. 
 
 " Mother," said Jennie, sauntering up to a mirror, 
 and twisting one of her long curls round her finger, 
 " I must have a new dress for Mi's. Anderson's party." 
 
 " Why, Virginia, won't your India muslin do ? you 
 have only worn it twice !" 
 
 " No ma'am," emphatically replied Virginia, " I'm 
 not going to be known, like Pauline Vernet, by my 
 dress, and hear it whispered, " here comes Virginia 
 Clifton with that everlasting India muslin." 
 
 u Well, then ! I suppose you must have one. What 
 shall it be ? A pink tarletou ?" 
 
 " Tarleton ! no, indeed !" repeated Virginia scorn- 
 fully. " I'm tired to death of such dresses ! At every 
 party, you meet tarletons flounced, or with double 
 skirt, or trimmed in some such way, at every step. 
 No, mother, I'm not going to be dressed in any such 
 common affair." 
 
 " What do you want, then ?" asked her mother. 
 
 " Oh ! a lovely white silk, looped up with rosebuds, 
 and trimmed with blond or Valenciennes lace."
 
 VIRGINIA AT HOME. 289 
 
 " White silk !" ejaculated Mrs. Clifton, in her turn 
 astonished. 
 
 " Oh ! pink will do as well, if you prefer," said Vir- 
 ginia. " In fact, perhaps pink would be more becom- 
 ing." 
 
 " Why, my child, you are crazy ! Think how ex- 
 pensive it would be, and you would never wear it 
 more than twice, either." 
 
 " I don't care," persisted Virginia, " but one of two 
 things is certain, either I have the dress, or I won't 
 go one step to the party." 
 
 " And what excuse will you make to Mr. Norton, 
 who has engaged to go with you to Mrs. Anderson's." 
 
 "I leave that to you, mother. You may say I'm 
 sick, or anything else you choose ; and he may go 
 with Fan Currier, she's dying to get him in her 
 train. I'm sure I don't care who he's tacked to, if I 
 only get clear of him. I don't know, on the whole, 
 but it will be the best way, to withdraw a while from 
 the field, and let Fan take him off my hands." 
 
 " You talk very foolishly, Jennie," said her mother, 
 Norton was the only one of her daughter's many 
 suitors, whom she thought it best to secure, as he was 
 regarded as a very eligible match, " and you treat 
 Mr. Norton very improperly." 
 
 " I'll treat him worse than ever," replied Jennie, 
 
 " if I can't go to the party. I'll see if I can't provoke 
 
 him, if he has any spirit in him. Oh ! I do hate a 
 
 man that's so like a whipped spaniel ; the more you 
 
 abuse him, the more ready is he to lick your hand !" 
 
 " Virginia Clifton ! stop, this moment !" exclaimed 
 
 13
 
 290 NOW-A-DAY8. 
 
 her mother, with heightened color and flashing eyes, 
 " Dare to behave as you have proposed, and I will re- 
 nounce you forever. You may form your own plans, 
 and carry them out as you choose ; you shall have no 
 assistance from me." 
 
 Virginia quailed a little, for she did not like to 
 brave her mother in her occasional fits of passion, but 
 said, " Well, mother, I'll make a bargain with you. 
 Get me the dress, and I will be as polite as possible to 
 the ancient gentleman, whom you have selected for 
 my cavalier ; but, if you do not, I have enough of my 
 mother in me, to do as I have told you." 
 
 " I will see," replied Mrs. Clifton, " but I hate to 
 ask your father. Nothing makes him so angry as to 
 ask him for money." 
 
 " I leave you to manage that," said her daughter. 
 " But you must ask him to-night, for there are only 
 two days before the party." 
 
 Mr. Clifton soon after entered. He was a tall, and 
 fine-looking man, but he looked care-worn and wea- 
 ried, and threw himself languidly down in a chair, 
 without speaking. 
 
 "Does your head ache?" asked his wife, in a low 
 voice. 
 
 " Yes," he replied, shortly, and subsided into si- 
 lence. 
 
 Mrs. Clifton looked, appealingly, towards Virginia, 
 who had withdrawn to a window, where she stood, 
 carelessly playing with one of the curtain tassels. 
 
 " Just as you choose, mother," she said aloud, in 
 answer to her mother's look.
 
 VIRGINIA AT HOME. 291 
 
 Mrs. Clifton sighed, and then, approaching her hus- 
 band, said, " Jennie is invited to the Andersons' to a 
 party." 
 
 " Well, what of it ?" replied Mr. Clifton, crustily. 
 
 " She wants a new dress," continued her mother. 
 
 " A new dress I" he repeated, " and where does she 
 expect to get it ? How much money will she need ?" 
 
 " Certainly, seventy-five or a hundred dollars," said 
 his wife. 
 
 " Indeed !" exclaimed Mr. Clifton, in violent anger, 
 " and where am I to raise it ? Here I am, harrassed 
 to death, my notes falling due, and nothing coming 
 in to pay them with. Dunned by everybody for 
 money, to pay bills that your foolish extravagance 
 has run up, at every store in town, and when I come 
 home, tired and worn out with trying to keep myself 
 and you above water, you too, begin to teaze me for 
 money ! Oh ! you are like the daughters of the horse- 
 leech, crying 'Give! give!'" 
 
 " Then, 1 suppose," said his wife, " you will not 
 let Jennie go to the party !" 
 
 "She may go, for all that I care," he replied, 
 harshly. 
 
 "But you do not want her to look shabby?" per- 
 sisted Mrs. Clifton. 
 
 " Woman ! woman ! you will drive me crazy !" ex- 
 claimed her husband. " I tell you, failure, dishonor 
 and beggary are staring me in the face, and is this a 
 time to talk to me of ball dresses ? I have struggled 
 like a drowning wretch for years past, but I cannot 
 do it much longer. I must sink ! You and poor Jen-
 
 292 NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 me," he said, his voice softening, " may thank your 
 stars, that you have bread to eat ; for if I should die, 
 God knows what would become of you !" 
 
 " Oh, father !" exclaimed Virginia, coming to his 
 side, and fondly embracing him, " I will not add to 
 your troubles ! I do not want the dress ! Oh ! if I 
 could only help you, in some way !" 
 
 " Poor child ! and what can you do ?" he said 
 gently. 
 
 " Not much," she replied, bitterly. Oh ! if I were 
 only a man ! How much I would do for you ! But 
 it is of no use telling. What we can do now, is to 
 give up this house, sell this expensive furniture, and 
 live within our means. It would be, perhaps, a little 
 mortifying, but it is false pride alone that would pre- 
 vent. I am willing to do anything to relieve you !" 
 
 " God bless you, my child !" said her father, releas- 
 ing himself from her embrace, and leaving the room. 
 
 " Oh ! what a curse is poverty !" exclaimed Mrs. 
 Clifton, throwing herself back in her easy chair, and 
 clasping her jewelled hands. 
 
 Virginia glanced, with a bitter smile, upon the rich 
 and costly furniture of the room, upon her mother's 
 and her own rich dress, and replied: "Say, rather, 
 what a curse is false pride, and that contemptible fear 
 of what the world will say, that leads us to live be- 
 yond our means." 
 
 Mrs. Clifton did not heed this remark, but went 
 on " You see, now, Virginia, what I have to endure ! 
 This is only one, of a thousand similar scenes, that
 
 VIRGINIA AT HOME. 293 
 
 your father gets up, whenever I say anything about 
 money. Oh, my child ! never marry a poor man !" 
 
 " If I did," retorted Virginia, " I would accom- 
 modate myself to his circumstances ; not drive him 
 to despair, in trying to gratify my whims." 
 
 " You deceive yourself," replied Mrs. Clifton. 
 " With your expensive habits, what you would call 
 economy, would drive a poor man mad." 
 
 "It is unnecessary to dispute about that," re- 
 turned Virginia, " but at least I can do something, 
 if it is but little, to help father. I will support my- 
 self! I will teach!" 
 
 " Never ! Neither your father nor I would ever 
 allow it," replied her mother. " If you are so anxious 
 to help him, do something far better, marry Mr. 
 Norton." 
 
 Before Virginia could reply, her father re-entered. 
 
 " There," said he, handing her a roll of bills, " take 
 this and get your dress 1" 
 
 " But, father," began Virginia. 
 
 "Do not say anything," interrupted Mr. Clifton. 
 " I have frightened you. Matters are not quite so 
 bad as I represented them." 
 
 As she left the room, he said to his wife, " She 
 may as well take what I can give her now. I don't 
 know how much longer I can stagger under my 
 business. This is but a drop in the ocean, and if I 
 deny her request, it will help neither my creditors 
 nor myself." 
 
 " But if she should marry Mr. Norton," began his 
 wife.
 
 294 NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 " Jane !" replied her husband, sternly ; " I have 
 violated my sense of what is right, often enough, God 
 knows ! I can hardly believe that I am the same 
 man I once was ! But I will never sell my child 
 she shall never be forced into a marriage. Let her 
 do as she chooses" and he paced hurriedly up and 
 down the parlors. 
 
 "But she shall choose to become Mrs. Norton," 
 muttered Mrs. Clifton between her closed teeth ; then 
 rising, she followed Virginia to her chamber. 
 
 " I will not get the dress,' 5 said Jennie, as her mo- 
 ther entered, " and I am sorry enough to have added 
 a feather to father's load of troubles." 
 
 " Pshaw, Jennie !" replied her mother ; " you don't 
 know your father so well as I do. He has been talk- 
 ing these twenty years, in the same way. He would 
 get along well enough, if he only had a little assist- 
 ance. A lift from a son-in-law would set him on his 
 feet at once, and relieve him from this pressure of 
 business ; which, to own the truth, I sometimes fear 
 will really make him insane !" 
 
 Virginia grew pale ! Insanity ! It chilled her very 
 blood. She idolized her father, and, for the moment, 
 thought no sacrifice too great to save him. 
 
 Her mother read her thoughts, and thinking she 
 had said enough, left the room, taking with her the 
 bills which Virginia had thrown carelessly on the 
 bureau, for she was resolved that her daughter should 
 look more beautiful, at the coming party, than any 
 of the rival belles, who were candidates for the hand 
 of the wealthy Mr. Norton.
 
 CHAPTER XXVH 
 
 TWO LIFE-PATHS, AND THE CHOICE. 
 
 VIRGINIA reclined musingly upon a sofa, in the par- 
 lor of her father's house. She was lying with her 
 eyes half closed, and a pleasant smile parted her lips. 
 A letter, which she had been reading, she held in her 
 hand, and ever and anon she glanced at its pages. So 
 absorbed was she in her reverie, that she hardly no- 
 ticed the entrance of the stately and handsomely- 
 dressed woman, who approached her, and drawing a 
 chair to her side, asked her " what she was dreaming 
 about?" 
 
 " I was thinking of the future, mother," she replied. 
 " I believe this letter was the beginning of my dream, 
 and the end, oh, I don't dare to tell you the end," 
 she added, smiling, as she gave the letter to her 
 mother. 
 
 " The end of all day-dreams, I suppose," replied 
 Mrs. Clifton, as she took the letter ; " they usually 
 share the same fate an airy nothing, which melts 
 1 into thin air ;' ' the baseless fabric of these visions 
 leave not a wreck behind.' " 
 
 " Well," she continued, when she had finished the 
 perusal of the letter which her daughter had given
 
 296 NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 her, while Virginia had been anxiously watching her 
 features, endeavoring to read her opinions, but with- 
 out success " well, Jennie, let me read, now, the re- 
 ply to this eloquent gentleman's letter. He has really 
 a very poetical name Edward Sidney. Where is 
 your reply ? I suppose it is a rejection, and that you 
 have consigned him, like so many more of your ad- 
 mirers, to that sad state, where life is a blank, &c. &c., 
 until they forget their woes, in a new love affair 
 
 ' Even as one heat, another heat expels, 
 Or as one nail, by strength, drives out another, 
 So the remembrance of their former love 
 Is by a nearer object quite forgotten.' 
 
 But your reply, my dear ?" 
 
 " I have not yet written one," replied Virginia ; 
 " but, mother," she added, speaking with difficulty, 
 and blushing deeply, " I had not determined to re- 
 ject him." 
 
 "Indeed !" said Mrs. Clifton, coolly, looking at her 
 daughter with a searching glance, " and why not, 
 pray ? I do not regard him as a very eligible match. 
 Why not ?" she repeated. 
 
 " Because, mother," answered Jennie, " I do really 
 love him, and though he is not rich, nor will he pro- 
 bably ever be, as he himself says, yet I know I should 
 be happy with him. For oh, mother, wealth is not 
 always happiness. He is so noble, so good, he will 
 check all my faults, and I feel sure that under his 
 direction, I shall be a more noble and true woman." 
 
 " Can he assist your father ? v asked her mother 
 coldly.
 
 TWO LIFE-PATHS, AND THE CHOICE. 297 
 
 " I know that he would," replied Virginia, enthusi- 
 astically ; " he would make every exertion in his 
 power, for he is the most unselfish, generous man in 
 the world." 
 
 " Have you finished," returned Mrs. Clifton, as 
 Virginia paused. " Because I must say that I am 
 surprised. That you, a sensible girl, should talk in 
 this way is perfectly incomprehensible. But this love, 
 as they call it, what fools it makes of all the world ! 
 What do you think a paltry sea-captain's pay would 
 do, towards relieving your father ? Nothing ! It 
 would be swallowed up, like a grain of sand in the 
 sea ; but setting aside this consideration ; think of 
 yourself, with beauty, talents, accomplishments, all 
 wasted on a common sailor ; and some half-civilized 
 villagers your only society. Picture yourself, Vir- 
 ginia, as the wife of such a man, whose frequent ab- 
 sence must be employed by you in sewing, or quietly 
 spending a few afternoons with his mother. A man 
 who would be forever finding fault with your lively 
 manners, for you would be often exciting his jealousy 
 by your attractiveness, and your coquetry ; for, Miss 
 Jennie, though your mother, I can see that you are 
 a coquette, and a few words, which tie you for life to 
 any man, will not change your character. You will 
 sigh for society you will brook no restraint, and 
 though you may imagine that you will find perfect 
 happiness in a union with Edward Sidney, / see 
 only a brief dream, to be followed by a bitter 
 waking, and long years of repentance. See now,
 
 298 NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 how different will be your future as the wife of Mr. 
 Korton." 
 
 Virginia shuddered. " Oh mother !" she exclaim- 
 ed involuntarily, "Do not name him!" 
 
 "Don't be so silly!" retorted her mother. "Let 
 me tell you, that by a marriage with him, you step at 
 once into a sphere to which you are suited a leader 
 of fashion. You can thus free your father from all 
 his harrassing cares ! The wife of an elderly man, 
 proud of the beauty and charms of his young bride, 
 you can do with him what you will, that is, if you 
 manage him right, and I have no fear of you there. 
 You know very well, Virginia, what it is to be strug- 
 gling through a lifetime with poverty, or you know 
 enough at least to keep you from falling into the de- 
 lusion of ' love in a cottage.' It may do very well 
 now for a few years, but look farther. See yourself, 
 in one case, a pale, feeble woman, worn out and har- 
 rassed by the petty cares of life, careworn and every 
 vestige of beauty gone, most probably bereft of that 
 love for which you have braved all this ; for it is true 
 enough, that when ' poverty comes in at the door, 
 love flies out at the window ;' or, in the other case, 
 the same years have but added to your beauty. You 
 will be still one of the brightest ornaments of society, 
 and happy in doing right and in following the advice 
 of your mother, whose interest and yours are one. 
 Choose now, my dear Jennie," said her mother. 
 Look at it well, and decide." 
 
 " Leave me, mother," said her daughter, in a hol- 
 low voice. " To-morrow "
 
 TWO LIFE-PATHS, AKD THE CHOICE. 299 
 
 u No, Jennie, decide now. Which shall it be, the 
 wife, or rather drudge of Edward Sidney, or the ele- 
 gant Mrs. Norton ? Remember, too," she added im- 
 pressively, " that your father stands or falls on your 
 decision, though I have said but little about that, and 
 these are not the times when children are ready to 
 suffer for parents. You know all, and I need not re- 
 peat what you already know so well." 
 
 Virginia made no reply for some time. At last she 
 looked up from the sofa, where she had buried her 
 face in her hands. 
 
 " I have decided," she said. " I will do as you 
 wish !" 
 
 " Spoken like my own daughter," replied her mo- 
 ther, while Jennie, who had hoped even against hope, 
 that her mother would not compel her to make such 
 a sacrifice, fell back, pale and fainting, upon the 
 sofa. 
 
 No gleam of pity softened Mrs. Clifton's eye, as 
 she looked on her child ; she merely remarked, as she 
 applied some restoratives, " You should learn to con- 
 trol yourself! Mr. Norton is to receive his answer 
 from me, and he will be here to see you to-night. 
 Remember ! no foolish shrinkings. You have chosen 
 him of your own free will !" 
 
 " Oh, mother !" groaned Virginia, " This is more 
 than I can bear ! I cannot, will not see him to- 
 night!" 
 
 Mrs. Clifton looked at her, and saw that she did 
 indeed appear too feeble to see any one.
 
 300 ' 
 
 NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 " Well, then," she answered, " I will excuse you to 
 him for this time." 
 
 A mute look of gratitude was her only reply. 
 
 " And this letter, Virginia ? Will you answer it, 
 or shall I ?" 
 
 " I cannot," replied her daughter. 
 
 "Very well! I will do it," said Mrs. Clifton. 
 Then taking Jennie's hand, continued, " You had bet- 
 ter go to your room and lie down a while." 
 
 Virginia complied with her mother's advice, and as 
 she left the room, Mi's. Clifton looked after her, mur- 
 muring, " It is for her good." 
 
 Alone in her chamber, Virginia thought of all that 
 had passed. It seemed almost like a dream, that she 
 had refused the man she loved, and was to become 
 the wife of another ; but as her thoughts gained form, 
 she began to agree with her mother. She had seen 
 too long the struggle to keep up appearances, which 
 had galled her mother's proud spirit, had seen too 
 many of the shifts to which poverty had driven her, 
 to wish for a similar life. The thought, too, that she 
 had saved her father, added strength to her resolu- 
 tion. By degrees she began to grow reconciled to the 
 idea of her wealthy lover, and she knew that he must 
 have no idea that she was his unwillingly, if she 
 would retain that power which she knew she pos- 
 sessed over him. 
 
 Resolutely, then, she determined that she would go 
 on in the path she had chosen. The crisis in Virgi- 
 nia's fate had come ! Henceforward no weak regrets 
 should hinder her from walking steadily forward in
 
 TWO LIFE-PATHS, AND THE CHOICE. * 301 
 
 her chosen way. When once she had fully decided, 
 she lay exhausted awhile, then at last fell asleep. - 
 
 Her mother found her sleeping when she entered 
 her chamber, and pressed a kiss upon her brow, satis- 
 fied that the true happiness of her child was secured 
 to her. " She shall never suffer what I have borne 
 so long the sting of poverty," she murmured. " Her 
 proud spirit shall not be broken, nor her life be made 
 miserable, by the meannesses to which want compels 
 its victims. My darling child !'' she uttered audibly, 
 as she kissed her again fondly, and stole quietly from 
 the room. 
 
 It was quite late when Virginia awoke from her 
 sleep. She rose hastily and went into the parlor. 
 Her father was slowly walking the floor. 
 
 " Is it true, my child, as your mother tells me, that 
 you have, of your own free will, consented to marry 
 Mr. Norton ?" he asked, approaching her, and taking 
 her hand. 
 
 " It is true !" replied Virginia, calmly. 
 
 " God bless you, my love !" returned Mr. Clifton, 
 " and may you be happy !" 
 
 " He shall never know," thought Virginia, " that I 
 make a sacrifice for him, and indeed I do it willingly, 
 though he is too noble to allow it, if he knew all." 
 
 " And when is the marriage to take place ?" asked 
 Mr. Clifton. 
 
 " As soon as possible," she replied briefly, and 
 going to the piano, began playing a lively air. 
 
 " You have not deceived me, Jane ?" said Mr.
 
 302 ' NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 Clifton, almost sternly, to bis wife, who was at the 
 opposite side of the room. 
 
 " Does she look like a miserable victim ?" asked his 
 wife, glancing at her child, who wore the excited and 
 heroic look of a daughter, as she felt she was, about 
 to save her father. 
 
 Her father looked at her, and though but half con- 
 vinced, was forced to be satisfied.
 
 CHAPTEK XXVm. 
 
 ALMOST AN OLD MAID. 
 
 "THIETY years old to-day!" repeated Esther Has- 
 tings, musingly, as she sat alone in her quiet cham- 
 ber. " Thirty years old ! I am indeed, as I have 
 overheard my pupils call me, an old maid. But why 
 should I shrink from the title ?" She went on, think- 
 ing half aloud, " Though the duties of wife and mo- 
 ther may not be mine, yet I may fill a place in soci- 
 ety equally noble." 
 
 The vision of Aunt Mary rose before her, pure and 
 holy, dispensing joy wherever she went, soothing the 
 sad, and rejoicing with those who rejoice. " Help 
 me, oh Father !" she murmured, " to take cheerfully, 
 like her, the path destined for me, that when death 
 comes, I may receive the welcome, " Well done, good 
 and faithful servant." 
 
 She rose from her seat, by the open window, and 
 standing before the mirror, began to arrange her 
 abundant brown hair, which the wind had tossed, 
 somewhat rudely displacing it. 
 
 Time had not made any ravages on Esther's smooth 
 cheek; it had but added beauty to her noble and 
 cheerful countenance. Decision, tempered by gen-
 
 304: NOW-A-DAYS. 
 
 tleness, shone in her quiet smile, and she turned 
 away, half smiling, as she found no old-maidish signs, 
 after close scrutiny. 
 
 A tap at the door, and little Emma, Margaret's old- 
 est child, a sweet little girl of eight summers, handed 
 her a letter and a little box, on opening which she 
 found a golden locket, containing the daguerreotypes 
 of Emma and her little brother Herbert. 
 
 " My birthday present to you, dear aunt Esther," 
 said Emma, as she received many a warm embrace 
 from her aunt. 
 
 Esther now seated herself to read her letter ; it was 
 from Maria. 
 
 " I was thinking of you, this evening, my dear Es- 
 ther," it read, " and thought, that since my heart was 
 with you, my pen should make it known to you ; for 
 I feared that you were not spiritual enough to feel its 
 presence, or at least to interpret its language, without 
 assistance. It is the anniversary of my wedding-day, 
 my friend ; and as I sat here alone (for little Charlie 
 has gone to bed, and his father is attending a public 
 temperance meeting) I thought of the time of my 
 happy deliverance in the hour of temptation, when 
 you, dearest Esther, were my good angel. Tears, but 
 blissful ones, fill my eyes, as I contrast that hour with 
 the happy one when Charles, proud and triumphant, 
 claimed me as his wife. How different now the con- 
 fidence that I repose in him, from the trembling fear 
 which I should have felt, though I would hardly own 
 it to myself, with which I should have placed my hap-
 
 ALMOST AN OLD MAID. 305 
 
 piness in his keeping. And how different my feelings 
 in that hour when my father gave me, with his bless- 
 ing, to my husband, from those when I seemed to 
 hear his curse, and to see the look of sad reproach 
 and betrayed confidence with which he regarded me. 
 Charles, too, has never ceased to thank you, for so 
 clearly placing the right before him, and I know often 
 reechoes my fervent ' God bless you !' Oh, Esther 
 my heart is full to overflowing, when I see the pater- 
 nal fove which my father lavishes upon Charles, and the 
 respectful tenderness which he gives in return. 
 
 " But enough of myself, for I forget that I may 
 weary you. You ask me, 'What of Virginia?' I 
 meet her but seldom, as she is very much in society, 
 and I remain as I ever was, a stay-at-home body. We 
 meet occasionally at parties, where Virginia is always 
 radiant as ever, her gay laugh as musical, and her 
 flashes of wit as brilliant, as in her palmiest days. 
 She is, as she always was, extremely fascinating. 
 Her husband idolizes her, and she seems perfectly 
 happy. I said that I saw her but seldom ; but she 
 came here a few days ago. I had Charlie in my 
 arras, the dear little fellow, and Virginia took him, 
 caressing him fondly. As she gave him back to me 
 she sighed, saying, ' I almost envy you your treasure.' 
 You know she is childless ; her only child died when 
 only a year old. Poor Virginia ! thought I, there is 
 one bitter drop in your cup of happiness ; I hope not 
 enough to destroy its entire sweetness. 
 
 " I suppose you have heard that Mr. Templeton has 
 returned from Europe. Poor Emily ! she is buried in
 
 306 NOW-A-DAY8. 
 
 a foreign land. The sunny skies of Italy, where she 
 sought health again, shine on her grave. Mr. Tem- 
 pleton has brought home his two children ; poor little 
 motherless things, how I pity them. I clasped little 
 Charlie close to my heart, when I heard of Emily's 
 death, and felt, in some sort, the agony of her parting 
 moments, from the pang that struck me, as I thought 
 of my own dear child left thus desolate. 
 
 " I had a call last week from Captain Sidney and 
 his wife. She is a very lovely woman ; that is, IdVely 
 in manners and disposition, though she is quite plain. 
 Her delicate health is, I presume, the cause of the 
 premature decay of her beauty. I am afraid poor 
 Captain Sidney will not have her long ; he seems to 
 watch over her with the most ardent devotion. 
 
 " But I hear my husband's step ; so good-bye for 
 to-night, and may God bless you, is the prayer of 
 your friend, MARIA WALDRON." 
 
 A postscript, in a firm, manly hand, was added by 
 Charles, urging her to visit them, and sending his love, 
 which he said his wife had strangely forgotteuHo en- 
 close. 
 
 With a light and happy heart, Esther hastened 
 along to her school that morning ; and never had life 
 seemed more beautiful, or full of promise, than on 
 the morning that ushered her into the era of old 
 maidenhood. 
 
 " You seem very happy, my child," said Mrs. Wil- 
 ton, looking at Esther's calm face, as she sat upon the 
 piazza that surrounded her adopted father's house,
 
 ALMOST AN OLD MAID. 307 
 
 while the beams of the setting sun shed a glow over 
 the landscape. 
 
 "Yes," replied Margaret, who sat near, her boy 
 leaning upon her knee ; " I think Esther has the phi- 
 losopher's stone, which transmutes everything into 
 gold. I wish you would give me your wonderful 
 secret." 
 
 " I can, very easily," answered Esther, as she 
 smoothed the curls of her little niece Emma, who sat 
 by her side. " It is the simple thing of faith in God, 
 trusting his love, and seeing his hand in every event 
 of life, whether glad or sorrowful. Would that you, 
 dear Margaret, were a partaker of my joys." 
 
 "You do have a wonderful facility in pressing 
 everything into the service of enforcing your peculiar 
 views," replied Margaret, with a smile ; though her 
 lip quivered, and she turned away to conceal the tears 
 which rose to her eyes. 
 
 " There's father !" cried out Herbert ; and Margaret 
 hastened down the shaded walk to meet her husband, 
 accompanied by her children. 
 
 Esther and Mrs. Wilton looked with fond affection 
 upon the noble pair, as they came slowly up the wind- 
 ing roa.d ; Horace Mclntyre's arm encircling his beau- 
 tiful wife, while the children, skipping playfully along, 
 talked of the events of the day. 
 
 " One thing only thou lackest," thought Esther, and 
 her heart rose in prayer, that this greatest gift might 
 be bestowed on her loved ones. 
 
 Mr. Wilton was soon seen hurrying up the same 
 road, the same ever busy, restless look in his fine eyes,
 
 308 NOW-A-DAY8. 
 
 and on his wrinkled brow. Ten years had made but 
 little change in the hurried, energetic business man, 
 neither had Time laid his hand heavily on the invalid, 
 Mrs. Wilton ; but her step was slower, her thin and 
 wasted form thinner, and she was passing away, 
 though, so gradually did she draw nearer to the spirit 
 land, that the anxious eyes of affection scarce heed- 
 ed it. 
 
 A few days passed much as usual. Horace had 
 nearly finished the business which had brought him 
 to Newton, and their family were soon to return to 
 their quiet home in Yermont. 
 
 " A letter for you, my dear," said Mr. Wilton, as 
 he came up to Esther, tossing one into her lap. 
 
 She was sitting alone in the large sitting-room, and, 
 approaching the window, read it by the dim twilight. 
 
 Mr. Wilton had left the room, and it was fortunate 
 for Esther, for tears, which she could not restrain, fell 
 on the open letter. It was from Mr. Templeton, ask- 
 ing her to become his wife. The manly, ardent words 
 brought so near to her the presence of her noble 
 friend, that it seemed as if she heard his deep voice, 
 repeating words which fell on her heart like dew. 
 She calmed herself, and, ordering lights to the libra- 
 ry, replied to him, bidding him come to her. 
 
 Many were the congratulations which she received 
 from her friends, when her engagement was made 
 known. 
 
 Mr. Templeton soon answered her summons, and 
 urged no delay in their approaching nuptials ; and not 
 many weeks had passed, when Esther resigned her
 
 ALMOST AN OLD MAID. 309 
 
 place as teacher, for the narrower but delightful sphere 
 of home. 
 
 Aunt Mary's sweet face and warm welcome met 
 her in her new abode ; for she said she did not wish 
 to enter a dreary and desolate home. 
 
 Flowers, the inseparable companions of aunt Mary, 
 shed their fragrance in every room of her dwelling ; 
 and the children threw their arms around their new 
 mother's neck, and pressed their dewy lips to hers, 
 with no horror of step-mothers before their eyes. 
 
 Aunt Mary did not tarry long; for, though her 
 mother slept long since in her narrow resting-place, 
 she was as much needed as ever in her brother's 
 home ; but the sunshine which she always bore with 
 her seemed to linger even after her good-bye was 
 spoken : and as Esther, the night after her departure, 
 stole quietly into the sleeping-room of her children, 
 where the cool evening breeze tossed the hair of the 
 sleepers, she fell on her knees by their bedside, pray- 
 ing for guidance from on high, to so lead them that 
 they might meet their angel-mother in heaven. 
 
 "My cup of happiness is full," she murmured; 
 "help me, oh Father, never to forget from whose 
 hand I receive it." 
 
 THE END.
 
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