1 
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 THE 
 
 MILL AGENT 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OV 
 
 "OPPOSITE THE JAIL." 
 
 BOSTON: 
 
 S A.NT) YOTJUTG- 
 
 KEW YORK: SHELDON & CO. 
 
 CINCINNATI: GBO. B. BLANCHARP. 
 
 1864.
 
 Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1863, by 
 
 GRAVES AND YOUNG, 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of Massachusetts.
 
 TABLE OF CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 THE TAVERN AND ITS KEEPER 5 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 THE NEW ARRIVAL 19 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 THE LANDLORD'S RESOLUTION 27 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 HAGER 54 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 PlOUS GOLDBT 60 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 A SABBATH DAY'S JOURNEY 105 
 
 CHAPTER VIIL 
 THE DRUNKARD'S DELIRIUM 120 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 WHAT THE COLONEL THOUGHT OF THE SABBATH 144 
 
 1670556
 
 IV TABLE OF CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 THE FASHIONABLE PARTY 161 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 HAGEB AT PBATEE AND WHAT HER FATHER THOUGHT OF IT. 190 
 
 CHAPTER XH. 
 A MYSTERIOUS DISPENSATION 198 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 GRANDE THE DOUBTER 211 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 THE GARDENER'S STORY 230 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 A GREAT REFORMATION 244 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 A DAY IN THE WOODS 270 
 
 CHAPTER XVII, 
 A NEW FEATURE 280 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 DROWNED 302 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 A RESTORATION .....309 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 THE COLONEL'S RESOLVE Pui INTO PRACTICE 325 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 A NEW ORDER OF THINGS 338 
 
 . % 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 GOOD TIDINGS 349
 
 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE TAVERN AND ITS KEEPER. 
 
 SAINT dozed in his arm chair. 
 Before the picturesque old tavern the 
 elms stood statue-like, letting the light down 
 in mosaic fragments through their pensile 
 branches. The aspens made a quivering show 
 of silver-lined leaves. Hill and valley, 
 meadow and orchard, softened and bright 
 ened by the mid-day sun, seemed indulging 
 in completest rest. 
 
 Clifton Locks was then is now in some 
 degree a quiet by-town, seven miles from 
 the rail road, and through which, once a day, 
 the old-fashioned stage coach rattled clumsily,
 
 6 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 conveying passengers into the interior. Its 
 most conspicuous buildings were the Leffing- 
 well mills three stately edifices, bristling with 
 numerous windows, and the quaint old Coates 
 House a revolutionary reminder, now known 
 as Saint's Inn, not from any peculiar sanctity 
 that attached to the place, but merely because 
 it was kept by a man named Tristarn Saint. 
 For twenty years he had been tavern-keeper 
 in Clifton Locks. He was an easy going 
 man, rather methodical in his habits, very set 
 in his opinions and quite averse to going out 
 of a regular routine in anything. Tristam 
 Saint was far from being what his name de 
 noted. What his opinions were upon all 
 questions of that kind, nobody knew ; for 
 there were none in Clifton Locks who ever 
 talked of the matter. There were no church 
 edifices, or societies, within four miles, and 
 the very few who attended the old village 
 meeting house at Hyde well, went thither 
 in the family wagon, returning in time to 
 spend the remainder of the Sabbath more to
 
 THE TAVERN AND ITS KEEPER. 7 
 
 their liking, in visiting, in sports, or in 
 gathering round the bar in the old Saint's 
 tavern, whose proprietor did a flourishing 
 business on that particular day. Tristam 
 Saint was a large man, and one whose face, 
 had it been kept in repair by the constant 
 polish of refinement, or the beautifying touch 
 of religious culture, would have been strik 
 ingly handsome. As it was, there hung a 
 stolidity of expression over the whole coun 
 tenance, that only cleared away under the 
 influence of strong excitement, sufficiently to 
 show what the man might have been. He 
 generally sat in his bar-room, ready to ex 
 change words with each new comer and 
 when alone, with chair tilted back he was 
 oblivious to all sense of sight or hearing, for 
 he slept easily. 
 
 On the day in which our story commences, 
 he had stepped from his dining-room, in the 
 same wing of the building with the bar, and 
 placing his cushioned arm-chair in its easiest 
 position, had taken his seat in dignified con-
 
 8 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 tentment, soon dozing, as was his wont. The 
 little room had not been much visited that 
 day, for the farmers and mill hands were 
 busier than usual, consequently the sanded 
 floor had not yet lost its smoothness and 
 whiteness. The counter, its red top well 
 varnished and well kept, glistened in the red 
 der sun. The tumblers stationed on a Japan 
 tray, stood glistening, and inverted round 
 the portly frame of a cut-glass decanter ; and 
 the blue and black casks showed evil heads, 
 under which lurked the gilded ruin of the old 
 tavern. For the rest, all was well enough. 
 Tristam Saint had a neat body for a wife, 
 who kept the curtains snow-white, and the 
 window-glass from speck or flaw of dirt. No 
 dust lodged whenever she moved even the 
 odious spirit-casks owed their immaculate 
 lustre to her love of cleanliness. The walls 
 were semi-annually white-washed, and the 
 heavy rafters overhead, though long guiltless 
 of paint, were equally so of cobwebs or 
 dust.
 
 THE TAVERN AND ITS KEEPER. 9 
 
 A light step sounded on the door-sill. The 
 inn-keeper looked lazily up. It is not likely 
 that he had ever read Roger's Italy or 
 thought with him 
 
 " Her face 
 
 So lovely, yet so arch, so full of mirth, 
 The overflowing of an innocent heart! " 
 
 but his eye grew softer as it met that of the 
 beautiful, fairy-like creature standing there, 
 smiling. 
 
 "Ah Toddles !" he exclaimed, his dull eye 
 brightening, " off to the mill ? " 
 
 " Yes, father ; good afternoon," she re 
 plied, merrily. 
 
 " Good afternoon, Toddles," he answered. 
 
 "Now, father, you promised you wouldn't 
 call me Toddles; I don't like it," she cried, 
 an incipient shadow on her brow. 
 
 "Well, well, Hager, then be off, child, 
 and let me get my nap," responded the tavern- 
 keeper good naturedly ; and the girl, with a 
 laugh and a hop, disappeared, taking her 
 direction towards the mills.
 
 10 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 It was getting near three before there were 
 signs of active life in the vicinity of Saint's 
 tavern. The weather had grown cooler, and 
 wagoners now and then came in to slake their 
 thirst. Presently a gray mare cantered up to 
 the door ; a tall, portly, bluff personage flung 
 himself from the saddle, and entered the inn. 
 He was a man past fifty, and iron-gray hair 
 showed under the broad brim of his shapeless 
 Kossuth hat ; his whiskers were trim and gray, 
 his eyes, cool and resolute in their glance, 
 clear, and of a sparkling blue. Deep lines 
 from the margin of the bold features to the 
 square, determined chin, seemed to betoken 
 force of character, as well as much thought. 
 His dress was a buff waistcoat, high, glossy, 
 black stock, and a blue dress-coat, garnished 
 with bright buttons. His boots were carefully 
 polished, and straps confined his nether gar 
 ments tightly beneath them. He wore riding 
 gloves of untanned leather, and held a whip, 
 whose handle was highly ornamented, in hie 
 hand. Add to this an elaborately ruffled shirt-
 
 THE TAVERN AXD ITS KEEPER. 11 
 
 bosom, and you have a gentleman of the old 
 school in the person of Colonel Leffingwell ; 
 the only modern part of his attire being the 
 black Kossuth before mentioned, which he 
 always wore when travelling. 
 
 Tristam Saint met this man with a deferen 
 tial bow. 
 
 " Ah, Saint, how d'y do? how's business?" 
 queried the colonel, walking directly, as was 
 his custom, to the bar. 
 
 "Tolerable brisk, thankee, Colonel," replied 
 the landlord, waiting on his customer. 
 
 " Well, Saint," the colonel had thrown him 
 self into the only easy chair and flung his hat 
 on the counter, as he sat eyeing his horse 
 which was restless ; " Clifton Locks has gone 
 on about as usual, I suppose ; no fires ; no 
 robberies ? It makes a man uneasy who owns 
 valuable property to stay away from its vicinity 
 longer than a night. One has all sorts of 
 visions of burning houses, especially mills ; 
 or trouble of some sort. By the way, do you 
 hear anything about the overseer ? is he gen 
 erally liked, do you think?"
 
 12 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 " I should judge he was," replied the tavern- 
 keeper. 
 
 "A good, capable man, eh?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 " Drink much, think ? You know it won't do 
 to encourage any immoderation in that direc 
 tion." 
 
 " Scarcely touches the thing, sir." 
 
 " Ah ! glad to hear it," replied the colonel, 
 with a half sigh of relief. " Now we Ve got a 
 pretty likely fellow in that position, and the 
 prospect of another coming, we shall get 
 along admirably. I wonder what the opera 
 tives think of Grande?" he added, thought- 
 fully. 
 
 "Toddles, that is, Hager, my little girl, 
 likes him very much; says he is kind and 
 polite to them all." 
 
 " Ah ! I'm glad to hear it. I felt fearful ; 
 it's a difficult post for a young fellow like 
 Austin Grande ; but then you see, he has an 
 excellent mother, and when a boy has a good 
 mother, somehow it seems a guaranty for his 
 future. By the way, I shouldn't wonder if
 
 THE TAVERN AND ITS KEEPER. 13 
 
 Coit came along to-night, the new agent ; what 
 can you do for him?" 
 
 " Really, colonel," the tavern-keeper paus 
 ed, thoughtfully, " I don't know where I can 
 keep him ; there is n't a single room in the 
 house." 
 
 "That's bad," interrupted Colonel Leffing- 
 well, hurriedly. "None of the boarding- 
 houses round here would exactly do for him, 
 and the private families have accommodated 
 as many as they can. " I'm sorry, sorry 
 can't you manage some way ? " 
 
 "Don't see how I can, colonel," returned 
 the tavern-keeper. "At any rate," he added 
 a moment after, " if I can't make room, I'll 
 get him a place till I can." 
 
 " Do so ; " the colonel had risen and was 
 now pulling the whip cord through his fingers ; 
 " you will oblige me very much. By all ac 
 counts young Coit is a superior man, a man 
 of sterling principle, they say, and I shall not 
 probably lose so much money through his 
 fingers as I did through Hunt's, the reprobate 1
 
 14 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 You've heard nothing from Hose Hedge, I sup 
 pose?" 
 
 Nothing, sir," replied Tristam. " I saw 
 Miss Mary riding, yesterday. She seemed 
 bright as a button, sir. Master Merric came 
 down with her to hire the long room so I 
 suppose they'll have great doings Thursday 
 night." 
 
 "O, I'd forgotten yes, indeed trust Lin 
 coln Lockers for such things yes, they'll 
 have a gay party of course ; they always do." 
 
 The colonel by this time was mounting his 
 horse. It needed neither whip nor voice to 
 spur the spirited animal on, for her face was 
 turned homeward. After his departure, cus 
 tomers came thronging in to the tavern bar 
 room. Chairs and stools were appropriated. 
 Smokers lit their pipes, and seated themselves 
 on the wooden settees on the outside of the 
 bar-room ; the laugh and the joke, and alas ! 
 the oath went up unrestrained, for God was 
 not honored in Clifton Locks : scarcely known. 
 These smokers were soon surrounded by vil-
 
 THE TAVERN AND ITS KEEPER. 15 
 
 lageboys, who begged a whiff, or with corres 
 ponding noises played games of marbles and 
 tag. With the cooler breezes of waning day, 
 matrons came out of their cottages, sewing or 
 knitting in hand, and sat on steps underneath 
 the shade of tall trees. Crickets began when 
 the birds left off, and droned cheerfully. The 
 whip cracked, and the hoarse " gee git up " of 
 returning wagoners sounded on the air. Pleas 
 ant bustle and the mixed confusion of myriad 
 voices reigned supreme until the bell of the 
 nearest mill joined in with its silvery clang. 
 Then by scores came the operatives from the 
 doorway of the mill young, old and mid 
 dle-aged ; little toddling girls, bright eyed 
 rosy-cheeked, carrying their shining kettles. 
 Young maids, modest and shy, or saucy, de 
 fiant and bold, flocked by, exchanging words, 
 nods and smiles with those whom they passed. 
 Soon again the sound of feet was hushed ; it 
 was the end of a working day ; let the morrow 
 take care of itself. Only one more incident 
 and this chapter is finished. There was a
 
 16 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 clatter of horse's hoofs a colt, white as snow, 
 turned the corner, on which sat Mary Leffing- 
 well, her veil floating like a cloud around her 
 head. Following her on a coal black pony 
 came a boy of some eighteen years, his face 
 almost girlish in its outlines, and his hair 
 quite long and curling, clustering thickly on 
 his white collar and against his blooming 
 cheeks. These were the pride of the town, 
 the two beautiful, only children of Colonel 
 Leffingwell. It was said that the boy was the 
 idol of his invalid mother ; while Mary, the 
 somewhat haughty, but in reality a sensible 
 girl, was the pet of the old colonel. Rapidly 
 they came on, alike, yet unlike ; her long sea- 
 green riding habit contrasting delicately with 
 his light linen suit ; her dark eyes and fair, 
 colorless cheek, with his blue orbs and brown 
 locks, that were like his mother's. 
 
 They paused a moment at the quaint low 
 door-way of Saint's inn, or rather the boy 
 did, she moving onward very slowly. Tris- 
 tarn had thrown down the s?^ii that formed its
 
 THE TAVERN AXD ITS KEEPER. 17 
 
 upper part, and was leaning upon it in a lazy 
 way, with folded arms. The fair face of 
 Hager peeped from the half closed blinds 
 above ; the halo from the setting sun threw 
 golden glory over the two young equestrians. 
 
 The boy bowed the landlord bowed care 
 lessly, never lifting himself. 
 
 " Mr. Tristam, I'll see you about that affair 
 to-morrow," he said. 
 
 K Very well, sir," replied the landlord, then 
 added : " perhaps you didn't know the colonel 
 is come just gone an hour ago up to Rose 
 Hedge." 
 
 A glad smile leaped from lips to brow at 
 this. w You don't say ; has he ?" half shouted 
 the boy ; and hurrying after his sister, he told 
 her the news. 
 
 "There they go, hurry scurry," muttered 
 Tristam ; " she 's nigh twenty, they say, but 
 they neither of them look more than children. 
 Well, the colonel's got a handsome family, 
 that 's the fact ; what a pity that his wife is 
 sick all the time ! "
 
 18 THE MILL AC EXT. 
 
 Hager had gone down stairs, meanwhile, 
 and was now busy with the girls and her 
 mother setting the table, while the savory 
 odor of cooked viands made the air seem 
 pleasanter to those who lounged without.
 
 CHAPTER H. 
 
 THE NEW AEEIVAL. 
 
 tavern-keeper changed his place to 
 the arm-chair within ; by twos and threes 
 the outsiders had gone, until there were left 
 only those who were boarders at the house. 
 One of these was a young man who sat some 
 what apart from the rest. His arms were 
 folded over his chest, and he was gazing ab 
 stractedly westward, his eyes perhaps riveted 
 on the dying glories of the Avondrous sun- 
 tinted clouds. His face was that of a resolute 
 man. Keen, dark eyes, deep set, looked out 
 from under restless but thick brows. The 
 outlines of his face appeared td have been 
 sharpened and set before their time, and his 
 thin lips were ever and anon pressed together, 
 token of absorbing thought. This was Austin 
 Grande, one of the officers of the mill-works ; 
 
 19
 
 20 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 a man but yet twenty-one, looking older by 
 three years and wiser by ten. The others 
 were, one a clerk, in the employ of the mill, 
 and several under officers ; two young men 
 spending a college vacation at Clifton Locks, 
 and one or two married men who had chosen 
 the beautiful town for a summer sojourn with 
 their families. 
 
 w Stage is behind time," remarked one of the 
 boarders, consulting his watch. 
 
 "Not much," said Austin Grande, starting 
 from his reverie ; "I wonder if the new agent 
 will come to-night ? Hark ! there 's the horn." 
 
 Presently the broad breasts of the leaders 
 appeared, then the yellow-black front of the 
 coach, and with a flourish, the driver, an old 
 leathery-faced Vermonter, drove the vehicle 
 in splendid style, sweeping round so that it 
 went some ways ahead of the door, now filled 
 by the portly personage of the inn-keeper, 
 and by a dexterous move backing the horses 
 till the stage steps were opposite the old horse 
 block. The handsome bays stood patiently,
 
 THE \EW ARRIVAL. Page SI.
 
 THE KEW ARRIVAL. 21 
 
 regarding with wistful, sidelong glances, the 
 old wooden trough nearly full of cool, fresh 
 water, while everybody was gathered in win 
 dows and hall to see who had come. 
 
 One person, only, descended from the stage, 
 a tall, gentlemanly looking man, dressed in 
 drab clothes, who glanced about him with a 
 rapid eye and pleased smile, then moved into 
 the house before any one could take a good 
 look at him. His baggage, a small black 
 trunk, and two or three boxes, followed, and 
 the landlord, softly rubbing his broad palms 
 together, confronted the stranger with a cour 
 teous bow. 
 
 "Mr. Coit, I presume," he said. 
 
 " That is my name, sir," responded the other, 
 taking off his hat, and for a moment seating 
 himself with a look of weariness, though the 
 smile still brightened his lips. 
 
 What volumes the displacing of a man's 
 head-covering adds to his face ! Surmounted 
 by the hat, the countenance of this stranger 
 was pleasant, but not remarkable. Now, with
 
 22 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 the soft, thick hair pushed back from a fore 
 head full of noble expression, the whole face 
 took a higher tone and commanded instanta 
 neous respect, if not veneration. Young 
 Grande, who had sauntered into the room, 
 seemed struck with this new countenance. 
 He glanced toward it eagerly, and the almost 
 painful strain that appeared always to regulate 
 his features, passed away, leaving only admira 
 tion in its place. 
 
 * Can I have a room, landlord ? " asked the 
 new comer ; and his very voice was musical 
 as if some undercurrent of melody were keep 
 ing perpetual rythm in his soul. 
 
 Tin very sorry, sir," said the landlord, 
 beginning to apologize, w but the fact is, the 
 house is full, and I shall have to find you 
 other accommodations for to-night." 
 
 * Mr. Saint, he is welcome to-my room, for 
 the present, at any rate," said young Grande, 
 speaking quickly and eagerly. w After such 
 a long journey he must need rest." 
 
 Guilford Coit looked up, and that sweet
 
 THE NEW ARRIVAL. 23 
 
 smile broke over his face again, as he met 
 the young man's eyes, and the landlord made 
 them acquainted. 
 
 K I am indeed very much fatigued," he said, 
 "and need, as you see, some ablution after the 
 dust of travel, but I should be sorry to dis 
 commode you." 
 
 " You are perfectly welcome," replied Aus 
 tin Grande, who seemed somehow to have 
 grown younger all at once. " Let me take 
 you there, sir," he added, leading the way. 
 In another moment Austin Grande was down 
 stairs again, leaning against the window, deep 
 in thought. Suddenly he spoke unconsciously 
 aloud, 
 
 w The first man I ever liked, at first sight. 
 O ! the difference between him and that cur, 
 Hunt ! I wish he'd room with me ; if he will, 
 he shall." 
 
 It was not long before the bell rang for sup 
 per. The dining room, like everything else 
 in this public house, was a model of neatness. 
 Hager Saint, an untaught poet, always placed
 
 24 THE MILL AGJEXT. 
 
 garden-flowers on the table, and nowhere 
 could be found whiter clothes than those that 
 graced this pleasant dining hall. To be sure, 
 the room was furnished in the plainest man 
 ner, but the sun yet lingered, and streaming 
 through the lilac bushes and the elm branches, 
 made golden pictures on the wall. 
 
 Nearly all were seated at the table when 
 the new comer appeared, and every eye seem 
 ed attracted toward him. To such a face as 
 his, granted but to few, the most hardened 
 heart in the world might have opened. There 
 was a mysterious sweetness traced over all 
 those features, a something set upon that brow 
 that seemed to distinguish him from the ordi 
 nary masses of men. He sat down ; his place 
 happened to be at tfce extreme end of the long 
 table ; cast a rapid glance from face to face, 
 all intent upon him, and with one of his rare 
 smiles, he lifted his hands, clasped them to 
 gether, saying, 
 
 "Father, for these blessings, for thy jour 
 neying mercies, for thy holy love, for the dear
 
 THE NEW ARRIVAL. 25 
 
 gift of thine only son, for all these, may we 
 be truly thankful, for the sake of Jesus Christ 
 Our Lord, Amen." 
 
 Consternation would be a weak word by 
 which to express the tumult that followed. 
 Xot in language, not in action, but in the 
 minds of all who sat there. The landlady, 
 who was just in the act of raising the tea-urn, 
 set it down again, her face turning white as a 
 sheet. The half-suppressed smile lingered on 
 more lips than one, while several were so con 
 fused, they appeared not to know for what 
 purpose they had come together. An ominous 
 frown blackened the features of the landlord ; 
 little Hager seemed almost terrified and gazed 
 from the stranger to her father, as if she did 
 not exactly know whether to cry or not. 
 Austin Grande sat with eyes bent upon his 
 plate, his thin lip curling with something like 
 a sneer, though a suspicious glitter on his eye 
 lashes told how powerfully that simple bless- 
 sing craved, had moved him; his mother's 
 voice spoke through it in those sweet tones.
 
 26 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 But he who had been the cause of all this 
 commotion, was the first to attempt its removal. 
 His pleasant tones betrayed no astonishment 
 at the blank silence that followed. With the 
 grace of a natural gentleman, he passed what 
 ever was in his way, speaking now to this one, 
 now to that ; and the ladies stopped toying 
 with their spoons, the landlady lifted the tea- 
 urn, though her hand shook, from some sup 
 pressed emotion ; while young Grande, taking 
 another glance at the fine face, with its lumi 
 nous eyes, and innocent smile, sighed quietly. 
 
 It was beautiful to see how Guilford Coit 
 held the attention even of those wlio were 
 disposed to avoid him. His low but ringing, 
 healthy-sounding laugh, was oftenest heard at 
 the board, and the very youngest there seem 
 ed to listen and long for his voice. Still that 
 innovation could not be forgotten. 
 
 Of all the four thousand inhabitants of Clif 
 ton Locks, not one of those placed over fam 
 ilies, ever raised hands for blessings on God's 
 daily-given food.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 THE LANDLORD'S RESOLUTION. 
 
 ITH your kind permission, then, I 
 am to room with you to-night ;" said 
 Guilford Coit, rising from his seat by the doo'. , 
 where young Grande and himself had been 
 sitting, talking in the moonlight. 
 
 The evening was glorious. The grand old 
 elms stood motionless in the mild, soft light, 
 their black shadows lay as if cut in ebony 
 across the white road. 
 
 "You are very welcome to do so," replied 
 Austin Grande, as he too arose, and after 
 glancing once in the calm face of his compan 
 ion, turned his meody countenance heaven 
 ward. 
 
 " What fine evenings we are having, now," 
 he said ; " it seems as if the stars were un 
 usually brilliant, to-night."
 
 28 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 " The heavens declare the glory of my God," 
 murmured Guilford Coit, in a tone of solemn 
 pleasure. "Oh! my friend, what splendors, 
 must be in reserve for us, His children, if He 
 has made this poor earth so beautiful !" 
 
 Austin ventured no reply, only set his lips 
 more firmly together, and made a slight, ner 
 vous motion with his shoulders. 
 
 " God never enters my soul so fully," coj - 
 tinned Guilford Coit, " as when it is lifted up 
 by the contemplation of such scenes as this. 
 What majesty in His being ! How matchless 
 His mercy His unbounded love I " 
 
 "Mercy!" muttered Austin Grande, the 
 word seemed to spring from his lips, uncon 
 sciously. 
 
 Guilford Coit, turned suddenly, and fixed 
 his dark eyes on the troubled face beside him. 
 
 "Do you doubt His mercy ?" he asked, ten 
 derly. 
 
 " I doubt everything," was the dull reply. 
 
 "O, no," said the new agent in a cheerful 
 voice ; K it seems you had confidence enough
 
 THE LANDLORD'S TIESOLUTIOX. 29 
 
 in me, to offer me a lodging with you. How 
 do you know what sort of a man I am ? " 
 
 Austin Grande looked up, met the full lumi 
 nous eye. The troubled cloud cleared away, 
 the light of a trusting confidence shone in that 
 glance. 
 
 "I can't doubt you, some way," he half 
 whispered. 
 
 "Then, don't doubt the great God, whose 
 servant, I am," responded Guilford Coit, 
 smiling back upon him ; " but, excuse me, I 
 never allow myself late hours." 
 
 "I will come up, presently," said Austin 
 Grande ; he dimly foresaw that the stranger 
 would wish, for a time, to be undisturbed. 
 
 Guilford Coit went into the chamber alone. 
 It was a small, white-washed room, but 
 scrupulously clean. The windows were hung 
 with half-curtains of dimity ; one narrow strip 
 of home-made carpeting, stretched across the 
 floor. The agent placed the little light upon 
 the table, took from his trunk a bible, and 
 knelt quietJy down. Not long after, Austin
 
 30 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 Grande came up. The light was still burn 
 ing. The little bible, well worn, lay open, a 
 mark against the page. Something prompted 
 the young man to take a closer look at the 
 holy volume, and his eye caught simply the 
 words : 
 
 w What is that to theef follow thou me." 
 He started as if stung. A look of defiance 
 passed over his face, instantly succeeded by 
 an expressio'n that seemed almost hopeless. 
 He paused for a moment before the bed where 
 Guilford Coit lay sleeping. 
 
 "What a glorious face that is ! " he thought 
 to himself. "How it attracts me! What 
 peace rests upon every feature ! Likely 
 enough his lines have fallen in pleasant places. 
 He has had no terrible temptations to encoun 
 ter; no bitter, living trouble to cloud his 
 days. It is easy for him to trust in God ; 
 easy for him to be what he undoubtedly is, a ' 
 Christian." There was no bending of the 
 knee, no prayer spoken, no sweet confidence 
 between this young man and his Maker but
 
 THE LANDLORD'S RESOLUTION. 31 
 
 the words followed him even into the world of 
 dreams, "What is that to thee, follow thou 
 me." 
 
 Meanwhile there had been a conference over 
 the kitchen fire. The bar-room was tended 
 on evenings by one of the hired men, for 
 Tristam was fond of his ease, and generally 
 sat and smoked, in the large, comfortable 
 kitchen after the girls were gone to bed. On 
 this night he had been unwontedly roused by 
 the blessing asked at his table. 
 
 "If it wasn't that I promised him, the fel 
 low shouldn't sleep here to-night," said Tris 
 tam, biting at the end of his pipe. "I should 
 like to know what right he had to bring his 
 cant into another man's house ? He might at 
 least have asked if 'twould be agreeable. I 
 don't like him. He's one of your pious fanat 
 ic sort; I wont have him praying over the 
 vittles." 
 
 "O, Tristam ! " murmured his wife, who sat 
 knitting a white stocking, "Somehow it done 
 me good. I haven't heard a prayer before as
 
 32 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 I know on, for forty year. I just remember 
 when father did that same thing, and he was 
 counted a good man. Why you don't know 
 how it came over me ; I thought I should sink 
 to the floor." 
 
 "Pshaw!" muttered Tristam, sulkily, "a 
 woman's whim. Don't you see what it would 
 come to, if I kept the fellow here? Not a 
 blessed boarder could I depend on. Who 
 wants to hear a parcel of Bible words when 
 they set down to vittles ? I tell you it will 
 ruin the reputation of the house. People 
 comes here because it's free and easy ; no set 
 ways or set rules. Besides, if he's one of the 
 reg'lar pious ones, he'll be down on my keep 
 ing bar, and if he don't talk to me, he will to 
 the boarders, and perhaps go to thinking he 
 can reform things. Let him try it. If folks 
 in this village don't make it too hot for him to 
 stay here, I miss my guess. Who cares for 
 prayers here? Who cares for meetius? 
 Don't we enjoy ourselves just as we please, 
 without no minister to come poking his pale
 
 THE LANDLORD'S RESOLUTION. 33 
 
 face in to tell us we're all going to ruin ? I 
 say I wont keep him. Let Col. Leffingwell 
 find a place for him ; if anybody needs prayers 
 and them things, I'm sure he does, if what 
 folks say is true." 
 
 Tristam knocked the ashes spitefully out of 
 his pipe, and proceeded to fill it again. 
 
 "But Tristam," said his wife gently, "there 
 was a time once " 
 
 "O, you be quiet," interrupted the tavern- 
 keeper, impatiently, "I know you'll say that I 
 was under conviction, as they call it, but that 
 was when I was green. And 'twas hah caus 
 ed by folks appealing to my vanity, and say 
 ing what a proper minister I'd make, and 
 'cause my heart was tender after the death of 
 mother, but I've got bravely over that." 
 
 Hulda Saint, patient woman, only sighed. 
 
 "At any rate, he can't stop here." 
 
 "O ! Tristam, don't say that." 
 
 "I do say it ; I'll stick to it." 
 
 "O ! husband, you can't think how different 
 I feel since I know that a real, pious, praying
 
 34 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 man is under our roof. "We're both gettin' in 
 years, Tristam, and to my mind this isn't just 
 the way to go on ; never thinkin' of God or 
 heaven, or eternity. I don't feel satisfied,'' 
 she continued, using more energy as she saw 
 her husband was on the point of interrupting 
 her ; "my mind ain't easy, and it's hard to get 
 light in this place, especially in a tavern, where 
 one has to go through with so much work. 
 Now, Tristam, don't you refuse to let that 
 man stay here, for my sake. He'll have to 
 eat his meals by himself in the morning, and 
 I'm sure he won't mind if we change the din 
 ner hour, and for supper let him have his way. 
 I'll talk with the boarders, and if they don't 
 care, why should you or I? " 
 
 "No use, wife. I tell you he'll be down on 
 us, in every thing we do, and then, there's the 
 bar. I" 
 
 "Tristam," said his wife, earnestly, "you 
 know we never kept no bar before colonel 
 Leffingwell set his mills agoing. It isn't your 
 bar, you only get so much on all the liquors
 
 THE LANDLORD'S RESOLUTION. 35 
 
 you sell, and to my thinking, we've never got 
 along so well, since we began it. Look at 
 that poor gentleman, who only came here six 
 months ago, (and I'm sure he's a gentleman, 
 and I'm sure his poor daughter is a lady) twice, 
 he's tried to murder himself, after he's got 
 liquor from your bar. I tell you, Tristam, if 
 he'd really died that last time, after his daugh 
 ter's coming here, and begging you so not to 
 sell him drink, I do believe I should have 
 gone distracted. It don't seem to me I could 
 'a lived. If I had, I'd been tortured all my 
 life, with the thoughts of it. But I don't be 
 lieve this young man will meddle with it, and 
 for my part, I shall feel like another woman, 
 with a real Christian, (as I know he is) , sleep 
 ing under my "roof." 
 
 " You talk just like a woman," growled 
 Tristam, and he meant it for no compliment. 
 The truth was, there were a few large tears 
 running down the patient, sweet face, of 
 Hulda Saint, and the inn-keeper knew how 
 good, gentle and true she had ever been to
 
 36 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 him, and how much he was indebted to her 
 foresight, prudence and energy, for what 
 worldly success he had met jvith, and being 
 naturally an easy man, extremely fond of his 
 wife, he could not bear to refuse her once 
 for all. 
 
 " There's that rich young man, who came 
 down for his vacation ; he's tired ef fishing, he 
 says, tired of the country, and thinks he shall 
 go home next week. Give this new agent his 
 room ; I'm sure he'll pay you well for it," said 
 Hulda. 
 
 " Yes, next thing we shall be having prayer- 
 meetings here," muttered Tristam. 
 
 " Hulda Saint's heart gave a great leap, as 
 the thought " I wish we might," came upper 
 most, but she said, quietly, " he doesn't seem 
 like a man who would force his opinions on 
 people." 
 
 "Doesn't, eh? I should like to know if he 
 didn't force that prayer on us, over the vittles ? 
 It looked like it, any way.* I'll tell you ; he 
 shall stay here till it comes to a p'int like
 
 THE LANDLORD'S RESOLUTION. 37 
 
 that. If he behaves himself quietly, and don't 
 meddle, why he's welcome ; but if he begins 
 to cant, and snivel and hint, or anything of the 
 kind, out he goes, and Colonel Leffingwell may 
 do the best he can for him. One thing I 
 know, he'd find it pesky hard, getting along 
 here. Folks hasn't got his notions in this part 
 of the country, unless " he laughed a little, 
 "it's old work-house Goby, pious Goby. I 
 wish 'tother agent had kept his fingers in his 
 pockets, where they should have been ; he was 
 a clever fellow in the main, and I liked him 
 better than this canting Coit, any way." 
 
 So it was determined, that for the tune, 
 Guilford Coit should be a boarder at the 
 tavern. 
 
 In the morning, as had been arranged, the 
 new agent and Austin Grande breakfasted 
 alone, Hagar waiting upon the table. It was 
 curious to see how stealthily and constantly 
 the child, she was but fifteen, and looked much 
 younger, watched the stranger. When he 
 asked a blessing, her eyes followed his upward
 
 38 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 glance, as if she expected to behold some 
 unusual vision, and her motions were quiet, 
 almost reverent, whenever she supplied his 
 wants. The young man seemed in an un 
 usually happy, even merry mood. His very 
 face seemed as if a sunbeam had been let 
 into some dark prison-place, diffusing light 
 and cheer on whoever came near him. Austin 
 Grande, on the contrary, was never in a 
 gloomier mood. Sometimes it seemed as if 
 he felt annoyed at Guilford's cheerful laugh, 
 for his brows came together ominously, when 
 ever he heard it. Still such was the charm 
 possessed by Guilford, that in spite of himself, 
 the moody young man relented at last, and 
 left the house more cheerful in his manner. 
 The mills were a good ten minutes' walk from 
 the tavern. It was early morning, and but 
 very few were stirring, as the bell had not yet 
 rung the signal for the commencement of the 
 day's labor. The stage was just being brought 
 round in the road, the horses were led by an 
 urchin in questionable attire, and hard by the
 
 THE LANDLORD'S RESOLUTION. 39 
 
 pump and water trough, an old man of vener 
 able air, whose bald crown was ornamented 
 on either side by long flowing curls, snowy 
 white, bent over his task, sawing the wood 
 which had been left the night before. The 
 air was filled with farm-sounds. Hens with 
 their broods, strutted leisurely about; the 
 calves lowed in the barn, and on every side 
 the myriad birds, all silver-throated and full of 
 melody, sang a welcome to the newly risen 
 sun. 
 
 " What a fine looking old man that is ! " said 
 Guilford, turning his head to gaze at the 
 wood-sawyer. 
 
 " O, that's pious Goby," replied Austin 
 Grande, with a sneer. w I guess he's about 
 the only Christian we've got in these parts," he 
 added. 
 
 w Ah I " said Guilford, " I must go and 
 speak with him ; " his face had grown sud 
 denly grave, more because of the thoughtless 
 manner of the young man, than for any other 
 reason.
 
 40 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 " I will walk on," said Austin. 
 
 " Very well, do so ; " was the reply. 
 
 Guilford stepped toward the old man. 
 
 " Good morning, my friend," he said in a 
 low voice. 
 
 The old man started, looked up, stopped 
 the motion of his saw. 
 
 " My brother in Christ, I hope ; is it so ? " 
 queried the young man, smiling, and holding 
 out his hand. 
 
 "All who approach in that name, are wel 
 come ; " replied the wood-sawyer in a grave 
 manner, and with the accents of a gentleman, 
 meeting the pressure of that other hand. " Are 
 you a visitor, here, sir? " 
 
 " I have come to reside among you some 
 time," was the reply. 
 
 " What ! are you the new agent, sir ? " 
 
 " That is what they call me," replied Guil 
 ford, pleasantly. 
 
 "And a Christian?" still queried the old 
 man. 
 
 " I humbly trust so," said Guilford.
 
 THE LANDLORD'S RESOLUTION. 41 
 
 ' 
 
 " Thanks to His blessed name," exclaimed 
 the old man, raising his hand reverently. "O, 
 sir, I've been praying these ten years, night and 
 morning ; aye, it has been in all my thoughts, 
 that God would send us one of His servants, 
 for indeed, indeed, this is a dark place, sir ; 
 no gospel ; no church ; no Christ." 
 
 "Is it so bad as that?" inquired the young 
 man. 
 
 " Well may you ask, sir. When I first 
 came here, I was brought by an accident. 
 Never was there a more wayward creature 
 than I. Not always what you see me was 
 poor Goldby, sir oh ! no, no ; " and the old 
 man shook his head. 
 
 "Sir, I've been rich and wicked," resumed 
 the old man, for he had paused a moment, 
 " I am now poor and dependent ; an inmate of 
 the work-house in winter for you see when 
 cold weather comes on, my injury affects me 
 still, and I can't work at all. In summers I 
 contrive to keep myself; yet, sir, in this fallen 
 condition, as some might call it, I'm happier,
 
 42 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 blessed be God, than when a wealthy blas 
 phemer, I rode 'in my carriage and mocked 
 the Giver of all good, oh, a thousand times I " 
 He stopped a minute, wiped the gathering 
 tears from his eyes, and said softly, fervently, 
 as he looked up again, "I'm glad you've come ; 
 I hope you'll do us good, sir." 
 
 "I hope at least, I shall do you no harm," 
 replied Guilford. " I am glad we have met. 
 You and I will have some precious times to 
 gether in the service of our Lord. I must 
 bid you good morning ; I shall see you again 
 soon." 
 
 They parted ; the old wood-sawyer looking 
 gratefully after him, and with a lighter heart 
 resuming his work. 
 
 The new agent did not overtake Austin till 
 the latter was close by the mill. There he 
 found him laughing and chatting with several 
 young women, and not wishing to disturb him, 
 he moved around to the other side of the mill, 
 where he could see the race dashing on, 
 throwing up a fine, glowing light as the rush-
 
 THE LANDLORD'S RESOLUTION. 43 
 
 ing drops glittered and danced, and swept by, 
 taking in all the colors of the rainbow. The 
 mills were situated at the base of a hill, where 
 trees here and there nestled in groups, and 
 wild flowers grew in crevices of the rocks that 
 partly formed its sides. In sight was a rustic 
 bridge, and on the left, crowning a gentle 
 acclivity, the ahnt palace-like walls of Col 
 onel LeffingwelTs mansion, shone whitely in 
 the sun. Beautiful vines wound about the 
 pillars, and even at that distance, the stone 
 vases upon the marble steps, the stone dogs, 
 couchant, who guarded the portals dumbly, 
 could be seen. All around were blooming 
 terraces, highly cultivated, and from thence 
 spread out meadows, orchards and intervale. 
 As he stood there, the sound of horses' hoofs 
 was heard, and presently came Colonel Leffing- 
 well, on his gray mare, while following him 
 his daughter Mary rode her own milk-white 
 colt. 
 
 "Upon my word ! " cried Colonel Leffingwell, 
 bowing to Austin, and recognizing Guilford,
 
 44 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 W I was just going to take the tavern in my 
 ride and call on you. So you arrived last 
 night, of course ; I expected you. My 
 daughter, Miss Mary," he added, as Guilford 
 came forward, hat in hand. The young lady 
 bowed in a stately way, and, touching her 
 steed, cantered slowly forward. 
 
 "Go on as far as youjplease, my love," 
 called the colonel, placing the glove he had 
 pulled from his right hand into the other, "I 
 shall stop here a while with Mr. Coit." So 
 saying, the colonel dismounted, and fastening 
 his horse led the way into a small wing in 
 which were the offices of the mill. Just then 
 the bell struck, and as if by magic, the roads 
 were instantly filled. A low hum sounded 
 along the air, laughing girls thronged the 
 passages, and the whir and whiz beginning not 
 long after, told that the mighty machinery 
 was moving its vast arms and capacious lungs 
 for the fulfilment of its daily labor. For a 
 long time the colonel and the new agent had 
 been conversing in the little, but pleasant
 
 THE LANDLORD'S RESOLUTION. 45 
 
 office. Colonel Leflingwell, stood over the 
 desk, at which he had been showing his books 
 and explaining about matters connected with 
 the mill-work. Now he appeared to be talk 
 ing of other things. 
 
 "Yes, sir," he continued, "when I came 
 here, some seven years ago, more on account 
 of my wife's health than any other matter, 
 Clifton Locks was a dead and alive place. No 
 life, no stir, no ambition, nothing that was 
 pleasant to a man of taste and refinement. I 
 saw immediately that the people wanted 
 waking up, and found that this fine stream was 
 well calculated to give them a shock. I went 
 to work at once and commenced a plan thafl 
 had long thought of. I built my mills and set 
 them going as the people flocked in. I have 
 given them no excuse for being unhappy, for 
 the houses are all comfortable, convenient and 
 pleasantly situated. I then went to work and 
 managed to find amusement for them, by en 
 larging the old tavern, and adding a handsome 
 hall, where they might enjoy themselves with
 
 46 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 gatherings to their liking, get up dances, 
 games and the like. My people are all satis 
 fied that I wish them to be happy, and they 
 treat me accordingly. Sometimes I go down 
 and join in their sports, occasionally taking 
 my son and my daughter. Thus you see I am 
 as a patriarch over a large and pleasant fami 
 ly in the style of the old English tenantry 
 where every land-holder was a father and a 
 friend ; a benefactor to both bodies and souls. 
 I despise the stiff, lordly assumption of the 
 modern aristocrat over the common people, as 
 they term the working classes." 
 
 All this the new agent listened to, quietly ; 
 his face taking a variety of changes, as he 
 agreed with, or differed from, the opinions 
 of his employer. Colonel Leffingwell ended 
 by inviting him to the next ball. 
 
 " I thank you very much for your kind in 
 vitation," he said, politely ; " you will pardon 
 me, I am sure, for declining to accept it, on 
 the score of principle. I can easily fall in 
 with much that you have described to me, but
 
 THE LANDLORD'S RESOLUTION. 47 
 
 as a professing Christian, you see I show my 
 colors at once", he added, smiling, and appear 
 ing somewhat embarrassed : " I could not con 
 sistently make my appearance in a ball room." 
 " Very right ; very right, I am sure ; " said 
 the colonel, in a sharp voice, after one quick 
 glance of surprise. His face had grown quite 
 red, and he turned almost abruptly away. In 
 a moment, however, he recovered his presence 
 of mind, also his politeness, and offered to take 
 the young man in the mills. This he did ; in 
 troduced him to a few persons, and then 
 pleading business, left him to their care. 
 Guilford was somewhat surprised at the change 
 apparent in young Grande, for whom he had 
 taken a sudden and sincere liking. Immersed 
 in business, his face was lighted up by the in 
 terests that absorbed him. When he spoke, 
 his face grew bright with smiles ; he seemed 
 not to be oppressed with the singular moodi- 
 ness that hung upon him after work-hours. 
 Guilford pondered upon this, afterwards ; but 
 at present his attention was called off upon
 
 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 the busy scene around him. He looked anx 
 iously along the lines of operatives. Eight 
 and left were rows of faces, many of them in 
 telligent, vivacious and beautiful. For a 
 moment, his heart was oppressed by the 
 weight of the responsibility he found himself 
 called upon to assume. " Give me grace, oh, 
 God," he cried, from the innermost depths of 
 his heart, " to fulfil my duty as in thy sight. 
 O ! make me the means of leading some of 
 these immortal souls in the paths of peace and 
 righteousness." 
 
 Moving further on, he was arrested by the 
 bearing of a girl, who seemed to' be nineteen 
 or twenty-years of age in figure and face, but 
 who betrayed, by a something, not exactly in 
 manner or expression, that she was inured to 
 suffering. There was an appearance of quiet 
 dignity about her that was extremely pleasing. 
 One would involuntarily think, without know 
 ing why, at the first glance at such a face as 
 hers, she is seeing or has seen some deep 
 trouble ; some misfortune that has brushed all 
 the youthful bloom from her heart.
 
 THE LANDLORD'S RESOLUTION. 49 
 
 Near her, working almost at her side, was 
 little Hagar Saint, her sweet, childish face, 
 deep dimples, and fresh, rosy cheeks, formed 
 a strong contrast with the style of her co- 
 worker. Her blue eyes took on instantly that 
 expression of deep awe that had marked her 
 childlike sense of his superiority (to her 
 mind) from the first. She did not even 
 smile, when he addressed her, gently; but a 
 look of quick, deep delight, passed over her 
 face. 
 
 " That is the new agent, I suppose," said 
 Sarah Church, gazing after him, as he walked 
 forward. 
 
 w Yes," replied Hagar ; " and you don't know 
 how queer he is ? " 
 
 " Queer ! " responded Sarah, smiling. 
 
 "Yes. I mean good, of course; why he's 
 so good " added the girl, almost breathlessly, 
 " that he prays every time he eats only think 
 of it ! " 
 
 "Does he?" queried Sarah, quietly. 
 
 " Yes ; did you ever know any one dp auch. a 
 thing as that ? " asked little Hagar.
 
 50 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 " O, yes," was tlie reply, and for a moment 
 the girl's hands fell listlessly at her side ; her 
 eyes took on a far off look, and there were 
 tears in them ; " Yes," she said again, sighing 
 heavily, "when I was a child, my mother 
 always did; but " the sentence was closed 
 abruptly. What wonder; her father was a 
 drunkard, and she supported him. 
 
 " Well, now, I never heard of it. Why 
 ought everybody to be so good as that? I 
 thought if we said ' Our Father,' in the morn 
 ing, and 'Now I lay me,' at night, that was 
 surely enough ; don't you think it is ? " and the 
 bright blue eyes were raised earnestly. 
 
 Sarah hesitated for a moment. " Chris 
 tians do not think so," she said, sadly ; " but 
 as I am not a Christian, I'm sure I can't tell 
 you what to do." 
 
 " You not a Christian," queried Hagar Saint, 
 simply, " why, I thought we were all Chris 
 tians, provided we didn't do anything very 
 wicked. I've always tried to be good to 
 father and mother, and though I wanted money
 
 THE LANDLORD'S RESOLUTION. 51 
 
 ever so much, I didn't come into the mill a 
 
 
 
 whole year ago, because they said they'd rather 
 I wouldn't. If I'd coaxed very hard, I might 
 but I was afraid that would be wicked, and 
 something might happen to me. I guess 
 you're a Christian, for I've heard ever so many 
 people say how good you were." 
 
 Sarah smiled, a little sadly, at this artless 
 speech, and there was a long silence, broken 
 again by Hagar. 
 
 "Are you going to the ball, to-morrow 
 night?" she asked. 
 
 "I don't know," was the reply. 
 
 Sarah Church was very proud. Disguising 
 her father's sin, as much as was in her power, 
 she felt oftentimes as if the great disgrace was 
 hidden from the world. Hence she strove to 
 appear as brave as the bravest, and though 
 she had not a decided inclination for scenes of 
 pleasure, she yet attended them, that she 
 might not give cause for people to say she 
 could not go while old Church drank up all 
 her money. Many sleepless nights she spent
 
 52 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 in devising some piece of finery out of scant 
 materials ; and it pleased her father, who 
 had once moved in high circles and mixed in 
 fashionable pleasures, to see her thus employ 
 ed. But the soul of this girl was never satis 
 fied ; it craved higher food. The noble self- 
 sacrifice that prompted her to remain with her 
 father, rather than accept the free offering of 
 an honorable affection and the delight of a 
 happy home, was only one of the phases of 
 her finely constituted character. It gratified, 
 in a measure, her yearning for something bet 
 ter, to feel that she was capable pf, and could 
 do, this good. But that there was a beyond, 
 that haunted her, a possibility of duties and 
 hopes and wishes unattained, yet within her 
 reach, and for the neglect of which she must 
 be responsible, was never absent from her 
 mind. The words of Hagar, that the new 
 agent was so good, that he prayed every time 
 he ate, kept recurring to her. They brought 
 to her mind a little picture that had been her 
 mother's, and with which she had never part-
 
 THE LANDLORD'S RESOLUTION, 53 
 
 ed ' The Last Supper' over which the Holy 
 Christ presiding, held clasped hands, and 
 called for a blessing before he should eat. 
 Sarah was very silent, very thoughtful, for the 
 rest of that day.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 HAGEE. 
 
 Y HEART burns within me to do 
 this neglected people good," thought 
 Guilford that evening. The duties of the day 
 were done, and the dusk was stealing softly 
 over the hill tops, displacing their robes of 
 gold and purple, for the more sombre raiment 
 of night. 
 
 " Well, what do you think of us ? " said a 
 voice at his elbow. 
 
 The question was untimely ; for the agent 
 had but that moment been expressing to him 
 self, his conviction of the great worldliness 
 apparent in the population by whom he found 
 himself surrounded. 
 
 "I think you are an industrious people," 
 said Guilford, still looking away. 
 
 " But wofully wanting in the religious sen-
 
 HAGEE. 55 
 
 timent; perhaps you might add," rejoined 
 Austin Grande. 
 
 " I perceive," replied Guilford, " that God is 
 not in all their thoughts." 
 
 " Perhaps not in any of them," said Austin. 
 w I can speak for one that yours would be in 
 my case a true judgment." 
 
 Guilford turned and fastened a penetrating 
 gaze upon the face of his companion. He did 
 not appear to have spoken lightly ; on the con 
 trary there was a tinge of deep sadness on 
 every part of his countenance, and his thin 
 lips were painfully locked together. 
 
 "My friend," said Guilford, "you were a 
 different man, when I saw you in the mill, 
 to-day." 
 
 "O, there yes," replied Austin; "my 
 energies were all employed ; my mind full, my 
 hands and head busy. It is only in the ex 
 citement of action that I am I wont say 
 happy, but in a degree, satisfied; after that 
 there's a void, unless there's something out of 
 the usual way of going on for instance, a
 
 56 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 ball, or an agreeable gathering of some land. 
 I'm queerly constituted, I sometimes think." 
 
 " We are all of us queerly constituted," said 
 Guilford. 
 
 "You, at least, appear to be an exception," 
 returned Austin. 
 
 " Not by constitution, however," said Guil 
 ford, with a grave smile ; " but " he looked 
 solemnly upward, then yearningly into the 
 troubled face of his companion " by the grace 
 of God, I am what I am." 
 
 Austin Grande first frowned, then sneered ; 
 the latter movement, however, was scarcely 
 observable. 
 
 "You are what circumstances have made 
 you," he said in a moment after. 
 
 " I am what Christ has made me," returned 
 Guilford, softly. 
 
 " Yes, granted for a moment ; but the con 
 trolling mediums of your life, of your religion, 
 even, have been the positions in which, you 
 have been placed, and the aids or disturbances 
 by which you have been surrounded. Let me
 
 HAGER. 57 
 
 read your past : educated by a gentle mother ; 
 hemmed in on all sides by the best of in 
 fluences ; watched over ; guarded from con 
 tamination, from moral pollution ; growing up 
 under careful eyes, and in the fear of God ; 
 nursed in church doctrines ; fed upon 
 clerical pap ; folded at last in the loving arms 
 of the church have I read aright ? " 
 
 " No, sir," said Guilford in a low, but very 
 firm voice ; "no, sir," he said again, in tones 
 that were absolutely thrilling ; " would that 
 you had, and then much sin, much suffering, 
 had been spared me. I have been through a 
 bitter experience. I have had no mother 
 from my birth ; no father since I was seven 
 years of age. Contamination from moral 
 pollution, was almost certain in my circum 
 stances. I have grown up under hard, evil 
 eyes ; no church has enfolded me in her 
 friendly arms ; I knew nothing of the fear of 
 God ; sir," he turned abruptly round, " I was 
 once but little removed from the heathen ; I 
 was sunk down, down deep in the mire of in-
 
 58 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 fidelity, from which no less that an Almighty 
 power can save any man." 
 
 Austin Grande was silent his lips, how 
 ever worked uneasily. 
 
 " For my part," he said bitterly, " I have 
 seen nothing but hypocrisy, double deal 
 ing, and anything but unworldly selfishness 
 through my short career. What am I to do, 
 when after pinning my faith upon this or that 
 Christian, I find that after all, he has. worse 
 than my short-comings ; for I, infidel, I sup 
 pose you would call me, could not stoop to 
 the petty, mean, contemptible motives that 
 actuate many of these people." 
 
 " He who pins his faith upon any mere mor 
 tal, deserves all the disappointments that may 
 fall to his lot, " said Guilford gravely ; " and 
 with regard to the failings of others, Chris 
 tians or worldlings, remember what Christ, 
 the infallible, says, 
 
 " What is that to thee? Follow thou me." 
 
 Austin Grande started ; the very words his 
 eye had caught the very words that, since
 
 HAGER. 59 
 
 the preceding night, had echoed through his 
 brain. At all times he seemed to hear them ; 
 they were written on the sky ; on the ground 
 over which he passed ; at intervals on the 
 blank pages of the books used in his business, 
 and even in the faces he saw. He threw ofi 
 the impression, however, in a moment, and 
 the hard, defiant feeling came back again. 
 
 "My father," he muttered, "made my life 
 miserable ; I have never forgiven him ; I 
 never icill forgive him never, never ! " 
 
 " O ! that is a hard saying, " responded 
 Guilford, a look of pain crossing his face. 
 " Let me hope that you will both give and 
 find mercy. Christ tells us that if a man hate 
 his brother he cannot love God, how much 
 less if he hate his father. Don't cherish such 
 enmities, they are unworthy of you." 
 
 " If you had seen your mother dying the 
 lingering death of the gambler's wife," said 
 Austin Grande, hoarsely, "and not only of 
 the gambler " his voice broke down. It 
 seemed as if some anguished memory filled
 
 60 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 his soul he turned away abruptly, and enter 
 ed the house. Guilford gazed after him, 
 yearningly, but respecting his grief, whatever 
 it was, did not follow; he only said in the 
 fulness and sorrow of his spirit, w give him to 
 me, Lord, I pray thee, give me this one 
 soul." 
 
 Guilford entered the tavern. In the low 
 ceiled parlor sat Hager. Before her on a 
 table were spread beautiful flowers and green 
 leaves, from which she was selecting certain 
 kinds to make wreaths. I have before said 
 that this sweet young girl was unconsciously 
 a poet. The finer pulses of a delicate and 
 sensitive temperament vibrated through her 
 organization. She was so constituted, that 
 her heart was open to the holier influences of 
 spirituality, and only waited to be enlighten 
 ed before its tendrils would reach forth and 
 cling to that mysterious support that we call 
 faith. She had always been the sun and 
 warmth of that house, had stood in the place 
 of God in her father's soul, for unconsciously,
 
 HAGER. 61 
 
 he worshipped her. Almost any other child 
 so deferred to, so idolized, would have de 
 veloped dangerous tendencies ; not so Hager. 
 She was a woudrously winning creature in 
 any mood; now she seemed as fresh and 
 beautiful as the flowers, and to an outward ob 
 server, as innocent. 
 
 As Guilford came in she half rose from her 
 seat, while the peculiar awe of her counte 
 nance made him smile. 
 
 "Keep at work, Hager," he said gently, 
 familiarly, w don't let me disturb you. What 
 beautiful flowers ! You have fine taste, my 
 child, " he added, lifting a bouquet that was 
 just finished. 
 
 The young girl reddened with delight. 
 Praise from one she thought of as superior to 
 all she had ever seen in her little world, was 
 something to be glad for. 
 
 K Thank you, sir," she said timidly ; w I was 
 never taught, but I love them so it seems as 
 if I could do anything with them." 
 
 w And what festival are you preparing them 
 for?" queried Guilford.
 
 62 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 w O, for the ball, sir, to-morrow night." 
 
 "And you will attend, I suppose," he 
 said. 
 
 " O ! yes, sir ; " her eyes sparkled, " there 
 is nothing I like in this world so well as 
 dancing. Don't you think it delightful, sir?" 
 Something in his look abashed her ; she turn 
 ed her eyes away uneasily. 
 
 " I did once," he said in a very soft voice, 
 " but I have found something better." 
 
 K Better than dancing ? " murmured Hager, 
 vaguely wondering what it could be. 
 
 "Yes, better than dancing, a thousand 
 times better. And you would say so, if you 
 knew just what I mean. I take more pleasure 
 in one hour spent in communion with heaven, 
 than others in years of these dissipations." 
 
 "I don't quite understand what you mean 
 by spending an hour in cpmnmnion with 
 heaven," she said, simply, emboldened by 
 his seeming confidence in her. 
 
 " And have you never heard of our Sav 
 iour?"
 
 HAGER. 63 
 
 "Once in a great while," she answered, 
 w and since you have been here, when you 
 pray. Only my mother talks of him, some 
 times." 
 
 "Is that all?" 
 
 " There 's nobody here, that I know of, cares 
 about such things," returned Ilager. 
 
 " No minister ? " queried Guilford. 
 
 " There is no minister here, sir." 
 
 " Where do you go to church ? " 
 
 " I never go to church, sir," said Hagar, 
 "they have none here, and it's seven miles to 
 the nearest meeting-house too far for me, 
 sir, unless we kept a carriage. I thought 
 you were a minister, when I first saw you,' 
 she added blushingly. 
 
 He shook his head ; he had grown very sad 
 over Hager's ans\vers. She silently took up 
 the flowers, tied them together, and felt 
 strangely nervous. 
 
 "How few," he said, rather to himself, 
 " know of the great joy so far more glorious 
 than these earthly pleasures a joy that
 
 64 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 renovates instead of exhausting ; that bears 
 no regrets, no headaches, no tired limbs, no 
 jealousies and heart-burnings. That joy is in 
 the service of Christ Jesus, who loves us as 
 no earthly being can ; who died for us ! " 
 
 That upward glance of holy fervor ! the 
 sweet, heavenly, trusting composure that ir 
 radiated every line of his face, and made of it 
 a luminous beauty ! that smile ! not like other 
 smiles she, the unsophisticated girl, felt 
 in her inmost heart, that nothing of earth 
 could so transfigure the human countenance. 
 
 The sight, the words just spoken, her own 
 exceeding reverence for the man who seemed 
 a new revelation to her, so wrought upon her 
 sensitive nature, that the tears welled up to 
 her eyes and would not be restrained. He 
 laid his hand gently on her sunny head, say 
 ing, " God bless you, my child ! I did not 
 mean to make you sorrowful. Be happy, 
 Hager, happy and light hearted all the time ; 
 I like that ; but oh ! seek first the kingdom of 
 God ; you will say then that you never knew 
 happiness before."
 
 HAGER. 65 
 
 He left her alone with her new, strangely sol 
 emn emotions . Overhead in the long hall, her 
 father and mother were busy getting things in 
 readiness for the coming entertainment. She 
 heard their footsteps but cared not to seek 
 them.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 PIOUS GOLDBT. 
 
 OU WILL go in, of course," said Aus 
 tin Grande, who was putting the fin 
 ishing touches to his toilet. "You needn't 
 dance, you know, and I always think it's worth 
 something to see so many people in holiday 
 attire." 
 
 " Thank you. I should not enjoy it at all ; 
 and could not conscientiously enter a place in 
 which my principles forbade me to remain." 
 
 " What a parade ! " muttered Austin Grande 
 to himself. 
 
 " You Christians are altogether too strict for 
 my notions," he said aloud a moment after ; 
 w an innocent enjoyment like that can harm no 
 one." 
 
 "It has harmed me, however," replied Guil- 
 ford, " and knowing that, feeling conscious 
 
 66
 
 PIOUS GOLDBY. 67 
 
 that I have in my heart something I would not 
 exchange for all the joys of this poor earth 
 how can I go? Besides, it would be no 
 pleasure to me ; one cannot relish food for 
 which he has no appetite you will admit 
 that." 
 
 Austin muttered a dissatisfied yes. Guil- 
 ford walked away, came back a few steps 
 irresolutely, then moved up near Austin and 
 laid his hand on his shoulder. The young 
 man turned, quite startled, and met those 
 beaming eyes. 
 
 " For your own sake," whispered the 
 agent, " allow me to hope that some time this 
 merely exciting and temporary pleasure, may 
 be as distasteful to you as it is to me. The 
 water of the river of life is free." 
 
 Austin Grande changed color. Perhaps it 
 was on his tongue to make some keen, unkind 
 retort. If it was, the mild sorrow in those 
 clear eyes, disarmed him, and the hand which 
 he placed in that of his friend, trembled. 
 
 Guilford Coit knew enough of the entertain-
 
 68 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 ments of those times, (not much altered are 
 they to-day) to wish for a seclusion not prac 
 ticable there. He had seen some of those 
 beautiful flowers carried in the bar-room to 
 decorate its polluted, contents. That the 
 weary dancers would resort thither for stimu 
 lants he saw was expected, indeed inevitable, 
 and he had no wish to witness the degradation 
 consequent upon intemperance. So in obedi 
 ence to a long cherished desire, he left the 
 house and wended his way to the poor-house, 
 where lived " pious Goby," the veteran wood- 
 sawyer. He found the old man seated outside 
 the work-house, enjoying the soft, bland south 
 ern wind, that seemed to touch his white locks 
 reverently. It was beautiful to note the glow 
 of pleasure that instantaneously suffused the 
 aged features. 
 
 " You are very kind, sir," he said, extend 
 ing his hand, and half rising " I am glad to 
 see you. Miss Mary came to the old place 
 this afternoon ; bless her sweet face ! I didn't 
 expect this favor from you so soon."
 
 PIOUS GOLDBY. 69 
 
 w You refer to the daughter of Colonel Lef- 
 fingwell," said Guilford, taking a seat at his 
 side. 
 
 "Yes, sir, you may have seen her; she is 
 one out of a thousand, sir, in many respects. 
 She knows my story, sir, knows that the poor 
 old man was once blessed with beautiful 
 daughters and brave sons, and she feels for 
 me, sir. To others she may seem cold and 
 reserved, they say haughty, but never to me, 
 sir. It seems, sir, at times, as if that young 
 lady was very near the kingdom. I wish she 
 might give the beauty of her youth to Christ, 
 for if there is one way more than another by 
 which Colonel Lcffingwell might be saved, it 
 would be through his children. He idolizes 
 them, sir. Did you ever meet his son, 
 Merric?" 
 
 " I never did," said Guilford. 
 
 "A charming young gentleman," the old 
 man went on, "just as sweet and good as his 
 sister, to me. He has been going to college, 
 but his health failed a year ago, and he has
 
 70 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 remained at home until now. They think he 
 is quite restored, but the consumption runs in 
 the family, I have heard, sir, and I fear for 
 him at times. A lovely young gentleman he 
 is, and like his father, proud of his good 
 name, trusting in his good works. I don't 
 pass judgment on them, sir ; they themselves 
 allow they don't need Christ, sir ; they say 
 they don't. But oh ! you and I, sir, know 
 they do ; know that the whole world needs 
 him," he laid his thin hand on Guilford's knee, 
 and his face was bright, yet solemn with an 
 inward joy. 
 
 "Yes, yes, Christ is the only Saviour," 
 murmured the young man. 
 
 " O ! sir, if Miss Mary, if dear young Mas 
 ter Merric, if the old colonel only felt this as 
 their need, what a place we should have here ! 
 There is not a more beautiful town than Clif 
 ton Locks ; there is not one more destitute of 
 all religious influences. There are churches 
 in" the other villages, but at such a distance 
 that the people do not care to travel on foot.
 
 PIOUS GOLDBY. 71 
 
 There are those here, too, who profess them 
 selves disciples of the Lord, who harness up 
 and drive to God's house, come back in the 
 afternoon^nd join in the sports that are carried 
 on, on that day." 
 
 " Sports ! " ejaculated Guilford, incredu 
 lously. 
 
 " Certainly, sir ; the young men have games, 
 there are drives and promenades, and often 
 picnics on the Sabbath. Worse than all, the 
 more dissolute get up cock-fights and dog- 
 baits, as they call them. Ah ! sir, you little 
 know the extent of Clifton Locks' depravi 
 ty ;" the old man sighed as he ceased. 
 
 " I pity them the more," he continued, "be 
 cause I have myself gone great lengths in 
 practical infidelity. I was brought up in the 
 very midst of fashionable society, and heard 
 of God only as my nurse taught me to pray. 
 I grew to manhood ignorant in a measure, 
 of redeeming grace and dying love ; for my 
 Sabbaths were spent in pleasure. God took 
 my wife from me, but that blow seemed only
 
 72 THE MILL AGEXT. 
 
 to harden my heart. Then my two sons died, 
 one of them a sudden and violent death ; my 
 two daughters, after they were happily mar 
 ried, died within a month of each other. 
 These things almost broke my heart, but 
 though I heard the voice of God in my afflic 
 tion, and felt, in spite of all my reasoning, 
 that He only could heal the wounds my grief 
 had made, I would not bow to Him. After 
 that it seemed as if my heart was set in me to 
 do evil. I gloried in defying the Almighty. 
 Becoming reckless in business operations, I 
 first endorsed to a large amount, then plunged 
 in speculation. Ah ! sir, I woke one morn 
 ing and found myself a beggar. There I was, 
 no family ; sons and daughters gone down to 
 the cold grave ; no wife to cheer me, penni 
 less and friendless, for who befriends the 
 ruined man of the world ? 
 
 " Well, sir, defiant thoughts came into my 
 brain. I felt that having gone to excess in 
 pleasure, my constitution was hopelessly shat 
 tered, and what had I to live for? To my
 
 PIOUS GOLDBY. 73 
 
 darkened mind there was but one remedy for 
 all my sorrows death. After contemplating 
 all kinds of desperate measures, I at length 
 came calmly to the determination of taking 
 my own life. The blank horror and darkness 
 that enveloped my soul, no tongue can de 
 scribe oh ! sir, a man without God is a 
 pitiable creature ! He can look nowhere for 
 help. The faces of his fellow men might as 
 well be cut in stone, for he can see no sym 
 pathy there. They cannot enter into his feel 
 ings ; they cannot see the dread despair that 
 eats at his heart and cankers every thought. 
 They know not of that hopeless sinking, that 
 paralysis of all evil, that dreadful anguish that 
 finds vent in groans without a voice, in hot 
 tears that are never shed ; in shrieks that shat 
 ter the body, though they may not be heard 
 outside of its poor walls. I felt all this, sir. 
 Waking, I was in torment ; sleeping, in 
 agony, for my dreams but repeated my sor 
 rows. I could almost hear suggestions of 
 evil that appealed to me on all sides ; I felt
 
 74 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 their import it was that horrible temptation 
 to rid myself of life. O, sir, I hope the sun, 
 the blessed, blue daylight, never looked to 
 you as it has to me the memory of that time 
 almost overcomes me. I believe, that verily, 
 demons were fighting for my soul . And the 
 worst of that unhappy state, was, my relent 
 less hate of God. Words cannot describe to 
 you the blackness of that hate. I was madden 
 ed to find myself so powerless to fight against 
 Hun. I looked upon him as the destroyer of 
 all my hopes ; the undying persecutor of my 
 soul. If I opened a page that spoke of his 
 goodness, I dashed it from me with bitter 
 curses ; a more utterly malignant spirit than 
 possessed me then, the world of darkness 
 does not hold. And all this, with the full 
 knowledge that I had deliberately chosen evil, 
 that it was not forced upon me that I held 
 the balance of my hardly earned retribution 
 independently of all powers in heaven or on 
 earth. Sir, I distinctly felt 'this; I believe 
 every evil-doer feels it, and his contempt and
 
 PIOUS GOLDBY. 75 
 
 loathing of himself extend 'to every created 
 thing, and above all, more malignant than all, 
 to the great Uncreated, by whom all things 
 are made. Finally, I took a deliberate stand. 
 I spent my last cent for a railroad-ticket to a 
 certain place, and determined in some man 
 ner to end my miserable life before the jour 
 ney's end. I have not told you how proud I 
 was, by nature. My temper had never been 
 controlled, yet this pride enabled me to hide, 
 its paroxyms from everybody but myself. 
 During this awful struggle, men saw me 
 smile, heard me laugh, and though they knew 
 that I was ruined, they expected to see me 
 stem the tide and sometime enter into pros 
 perous business again. So when I had made 
 up my mind to end my struggle and my exist 
 ence together, I was too proud to have men 
 know it. They should not call me Goldby 
 the suicide never ; my death must appear 
 to be the result of accident. O, sir I God 
 was merciful," added the aged man, great 
 tears streaming down the hollows of his
 
 76 THE MILL AGESTT. 
 
 cheeks. "You remember, perhaps, the ter 
 rible accident of forty-seven ; fifty people 
 perished, and I, poor wretched sinner, was 
 saved. I the hater of God the rash seeker 
 for a dread eternity I was saved ! There 
 were little innocent children mangled ; there 
 were brave and noble women crushed to 
 death ; there were great and holy and honor 
 able Christian men sent to the eternal world, 
 and poor miserable I the outcast from self 
 and heaven I was rescued, with broken limbs, 
 it is true, and sad internal injuries but oh I 
 for more than this, to be a monument of God's 
 great forbearance of His sweetly gentle pa 
 tience, with the man who had longed to curse 
 Him and die. Can you wonder, sir, at this 
 emotion? Should I not be less than man if 
 this poor frame did not shake, and these 
 thankful tears fall, as I recount the Gracious 
 goodness of my God ? " 
 
 "When I came to consciousness, I found 
 myself in a bed, luxurious for its softness, and 
 around which hung beautiful curtains. But
 
 PIOUS GOLDBY. 77 
 
 oh ! sir, the loveliest thing in that room of 
 splendor was a little child of seven years, 
 whose face was the first image of recognition. 
 I can see it now an angel's countenance, 
 round which hung soft curls. It seemed to 
 be one of my own lost children, restored to 
 youth and innocence again. Presently I 
 closed my eyes ; the curtains were shut, the 
 little face gone, but I could hear voices the 
 mother and her little one were talking." 
 
 " lie looked, at me," said the little voice. 
 
 " Yes," was the reply," he is probably con 
 scious, but must not talk yet." 
 
 "Do you suppose he will die, mamma?" 
 queried the child. 
 
 "I can't tell, my darling I hope not," said 
 the mother. + r , 
 
 "Don't you suppose he'll be glad to see 
 Jesus, if he does die?" queried the artless 
 voice. "And if he does die, mamma, and 
 talks before he dies, I'll ask him if he'll find 
 little brother Robby in heaven. If he can't 
 find him, Jesus will tell him where he is, 
 wont he?"
 
 78 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 "Simple as was this childish talk, my young 
 friend, it thrilled me through and through. 
 What ! I see Jesus I, loaded down with sins 
 of thought and word and deed, and all manner 
 of hate I, see Jesus? I, look for a little 
 lamb who died in his innocence and stood be 
 fore Christ with holy hands ? It is a wonder 
 that the agony and remorse that rushed over 
 me did not end my life. The vileness I felt 
 at that moment, can never be described 
 never, never. I did not dare to raise my 
 thoughts to God, even in gratitude. I was 
 penetrated with shame ; I was before Him 
 then, the searcher of hearts, one mass of in 
 iquity. I saw his eye upon me as plainly as 
 I see yours. Moment by moment, hour by 
 hour yes, in that anguish it seemed years 
 upon years, that Christ stood and looked at 
 me. My every thought, emotion, shade of 
 feeling, was read by His sorrowful eyes. I 
 could see nothing else but that look and my 
 own vileness. Everything I had ever done 
 passed in review before Him and my heart
 
 PIOUS GOLDBY. < 79 
 
 yes, the book was opened there the frightful 
 book of my life. 
 
 "The doctor came to my bedside I could 
 see him but still I saw that eye. "Is there 
 no hope ? " I cried. 
 
 " Your recovery is not altogether doubtful," 
 he replied. 
 
 " No matter for that," were my despairing 
 words, "let the body go but is there no 
 hope for the soul?" 
 
 " O ! yes," he replied, and I saw his face 
 brighten, " Christ says, ' come unto me all 
 ye that are weary and heavy laden, and I will 
 give you rest.' " 
 
 " I have hated Him too long," I cried weep 
 ing like a child. 
 
 " No longer than he has loved you," was the 
 reply. 
 
 " I thought my heart would break when he 
 said this. Had Christ loved me He whom I 
 had put to open shame, had not only despised 
 but mocked had not only mocked but 
 cursed could it be possible that He ever had,
 
 80 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 ever would, love me ? Pure as I felt He must 
 be, could he touch my polluted hand; the 
 hand that had led others into the ways of sin ? 
 If I could have experienced His instantaneous 
 displeasure ; had I have heard his voice con 
 demning me in tones like thunder, it would 
 have been relief yes, even to be hated by 
 Him but to feel that He loved me, it was 
 too much oh ! it was too much. It shook 
 my soul to its foundations ; it pierced me like 
 an arrow ; it condemned me utterly, and yet 
 through all the mists, the darkness, the de 
 spair of sin, it shone down like a warm sun 
 beam ; it penetrated the stony soil of my heart, 
 it saved me, glory be to God. 
 
 " My dear sir, this emotion is too much for 
 you," said Guilford, himself shaken at the 
 recital. 
 
 "O ! let me weep," cried the old man brok 
 enly, "it is His mercy, His goodness makes 
 me. The very rocks might melt if they had 
 consciousness and could feel what it is for an 
 immortal soul to pass from death, unto life.
 
 PIOUS GOLDBY. 81 
 
 Think of it, sir, think of it ! " and he lifted 
 his thin arms upward, while the pure white 
 light of the moon made his face saintly ; " all 
 eternity to praise God in ; it will not be too 
 long for me; " and the tears glittered on his 
 furrowed cheeks like drops of silver. 
 
 " I have read of people being reprieved at 
 the foot of the gallows, on the steps of the 
 scaffold, and given back to blessed life again," 
 he said in a softer voice. " I have thought 
 what joy it must have been ! how sweet, how 
 full of blessedness the existence they had all- 
 most given up ! But what must that rapture 
 be, think you, that reprieves an immortal 
 soul? Have you felt it? Perhaps so, in some 
 degree. I see that expression in your face 
 that none wear but the children of God ; still, 
 unless you had gone the frightful length in sin 
 that I had, you could not have quite the full 
 ness of joy that I have felt, that overcame me 
 I mean, the especial moment when I could 
 cry my Father and my God ! " 
 
 " And you convalesced at that house, I 
 pose."
 
 82 THE MILL AGEXT. 
 
 " O ! truly I did, I had nearly forgotten. 
 It was the home of a physician; body and 
 soul were objects of his care. Ah ! that good 
 man, that healing man ! If all physicians were 
 like him ! Sir, every medical man should be 
 an experimental Christian. How can men 
 take the responsibility of such a profession, 
 unless they know how to give comfort to the 
 failing soul ? Who like they can tell when 
 the spirit gives notice that it is soon to quit 
 its earthly tenement? It may be days, it may 
 be weeks hence ; the poor patient is flattered, 
 he is not ; oh, he should see with something 
 else beside the eye of science ; the eye of pity 
 and holy tenderness. Who so easily as he in 
 his daily visit, can drop a word that may save 
 a soul ? In the poorest and most wretched 
 outcast he would behold a being capable of 
 enjoying heaven; compassion and Christian 
 charity would mingle soothingly in all his 
 offices, he would gain the hearts that to all 
 other influences would be hard as adamant. 
 Such a man was Doctor Hall. How for
 
 PIOUS GOLDBY. 83 
 
 weeks he bore with my wayward unbelief, 
 leading me gently along from doubt to faith ! 
 He is in heaven now, and so is that little child. 
 
 ! blessed day that I first saw them ! 
 
 It was nearly three months before I was 
 able to move from my bed, but sir, the tot 
 tering wreck of a man who walked with pain, 
 whose cheeks were haggard, whose eyes were 
 hollow, bore in his heart the love of the Lord 
 Jesus. He was a new man, wretched as he 
 seemed; a whole man, miserably broken 
 though he might have been called. Well, sir, 
 
 1 obtained light employment, but it was found 
 that a posture of ease and confinement with 
 in doors were injurious. As long as I could, 
 I worked and supported myself. On the 
 death of Doctor Hall, I was taken violently 
 sick, and became so reduced that a long con 
 finement in the hospital ensued. Not to dwell 
 upon my few reverses, I will only add that it 
 was found advisable to change my residence 
 to this place, and here I might be supported 
 by private charity if I would, but I am hap-
 
 84 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 pier as I am. My influence is limited, to be 
 sure, but it is a blessing to have the little I 
 do. There are a few Christians in this work 
 house, sir ; it is not late ; suppose you go in 
 with me and speak a word or two of comfort. 
 There are some sorely suffering, sir." 
 
 As he said this the old man arose, and Guil- 
 ford followed him into a dreary looking hall, 
 out of which several doors opened into differ 
 ent rooms. A few aged paupers sat here at 
 the long table, spectacles on nose, reading 
 w T ith great avidity. They looked up in a 
 pleasant way to the old man as he came along, 
 having a gentle word for each. 
 
 "Here, sir, is one of the saddest cases," 
 said Guilford's companion, opening a door. 
 At first sight the young man thought that he 
 beheld a corpse, so deathly, so emaciated was 
 the countenance that met his view. The eyes 
 were closed, but the person was not asleep, 
 as Guilford soon ascertained by noticing the 
 figure. It lay extended on the bed, and was 
 so thin that it made very little show under 
 the bed-clothes.
 
 PIOUS GOLDBY. 85 
 
 "What is the matter?" queried Guilford, 
 startled but interested. 
 
 K A case of spinal disease," replied the 
 other; "he does not hear us, as he is quite 
 deaf. But he has lain there, with no power 
 to move any part of his body but his head for 
 nine years." 
 
 "O, terrible !" exclaimed Guilford, deep 
 pity in his face. 
 
 The old man had approached the bedside ; 
 he now bent down and spoke in a peculiarly 
 distinct voice. 
 
 "How do you find yourself? " 
 
 " O ! nicely, nicely to-night," was the re 
 sponse, accompanied with a smile, a very 
 feeble smile, however. 
 
 " Have you thought of what I told you to 
 day?" asked the old man, still talking to the 
 paralytic. 
 
 "O ! yes, if He don't say in person, 'take 
 up thy bed and walk,' He says in spirit, ' I 
 will, be thou clean.'" 
 
 "You have remembered it well, David,"
 
 86 THE MILL AGEXT. 
 
 was the response. "He is very feeble in 
 mind," added the old gentleman turning to 
 Guilford. " I have to prop him constantly. 
 He has got so that he can repeat a text of 
 Scripture through a day ; two months ago he 
 could hardly repeat it after me. 
 
 " Who is it says that, David ? " asked the 
 old man turning again to the patient. 
 
 " Jesus Christ, sir." 
 . "And you want to believe in Him?" 
 
 "O, yes, sir indeed I do." 
 
 w I can't make him comprehend ;" continued 
 old Mr. Goldby, "what he must do to be 
 come a Christian ; that simple belief and trust 
 in Him, are all that are requisite to give him 
 a peace and joy beyond expression. But, 
 poor fellow, his extreme patience and gentle 
 ness gives me hope that he is one of Christ's 
 own children. I don't doubt that if I con 
 tinue, never growing weary in this work of 
 my Master, I shall have the satisfaction of 
 seeing him happy in the love of God. You 
 must pray for him, Mr. Coit he's a great suf 
 ferer at times.
 
 PIOUS GOLDBY. 87 
 
 M Willingly will I pray for him, and assist 
 you," murmured the agent ; " this is a season 
 of refreshment to me, thank God ! that he has 
 led me to enjoy as a pleasure, that which to 
 the thoughtless souls in yonder ball-room 
 would seem a task and a weariness." 
 
 " In this room," said the old man, looking 
 cautiously in, " is a woman who is considered 
 hopelessly, though harmlessly insane. She 
 has seen a great deal of trouble, not the least 
 of which is the desertion of her children. 
 Still, I have some hopes that her mind is now 
 more open to religious impressions than it has 
 ever been. She will listen to me, when she 
 will hear nothing from the rest. Sometimes 
 she imagines, by my gray hairs, that I am her 
 father, and when she does, I can easily impress 
 her mind with religious truths. I have no 
 doubt but she will ultimately find peace, and 
 in that way be cured of her sad affliction. I 
 think perhaps it would not be better for us to 
 go up in the sick wards, but some day if you 
 will come here, I can show you some interest- 
 ins: cases."
 
 88 THE MILL AGEXT. 
 
 This Guilford assured him he would do. 
 He was full of admiration for this old man, 
 and noted the elegance of his conversation, 
 the quiet grace of his manner, his unpresuniing 
 but deep piety, with unconscious surprise. 
 The fact of having seen him at his humble 
 employment, having heard him sneered at as 
 "pious Goby," only strengthened his convic 
 tion of the sterling worth of this noble old 
 man ; nor was he surprised to learn that he 
 was looked up to by the authorities of the 
 town, that in fact, he was nominally at the 
 head of the establishment, by virtue of his 
 superior aptitude and eminent piety. Those 
 who have little or no religion admire and trust 
 it in others.
 
 CHAPTEE VI. 
 
 AT THE MILLS. 
 
 ST WAS with the consciousness of having 
 spent a memorable and profitable evening, 
 that Guilford, at a late hour, drew near the 
 tavern. Long before he had gained its vicin 
 ity, the soft tones of harmonious music 
 reached him. Divested of its coarser features 
 and heard in connection with the calm even 
 ing, the radiant moonlight and his own 
 thoughtful state of mind, its effect was rather 
 soothing than otherwise ; but as he drew 
 nearer, the clash and crash, the sound of 
 springing feet, (none the lightest) , the loud, 
 coarse laugh, and jingle of glasses, jarred on 
 his spirit, and he could see the thoughtless 
 revelry from the road. 
 
 "How gay they seem ! " he murmured ; " and 
 yet there are bitter jealousies and cruel rival- 
 
 89
 
 90 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 ries in that small space. How many of them, 
 I wonder, will go with pure hearts to their 
 bedsides to-night, and with prayers on their 
 lips ? Poor Austin Grande ! striving to feed 
 his soul on the miserable husks of folly ; 
 tasting of dead-sea-apples whose ashes settle 
 in his heart ; I wish he knew what real com 
 fort and peace there are to be found in serving 
 the only true God." 
 
 Was it a sigh, so close to him ? Pie turn 
 ed there stood Austin Grande at the distance 
 of a few feet only ; he must have heard him. 
 If he had, however, he did not imply it by 
 his manner. 
 
 "It was so warm up there," he said, at 
 tempting a laugh, " I came off to get cooled, 
 and was lying down here when you first 
 halted." 
 
 "How are you enjoying yourself?" asked 
 Guilford. 
 
 " O ! royally never had a better time in 
 my life. Colonel Leffingwell has just gone 
 I came out with him, and pretty Miss Mary
 
 AT THE MILLS. 
 
 has been there. Merric is over there now, 
 you will like Merric anything but one of 
 your sort, you know ; but then you're sure to 
 like him, because he's one of the winning 
 kind. Miss Mary asked after you, but her 
 father told her you never attended balls from 
 principle. I was close beside them, and you 
 should have seen her open her eyes. 
 
 " Why ! what kind of a man is he ? " she 
 asked, " and what do you think the Colonel 
 answered ? " 
 
 "I'm sure I don't know," replied Guilford. 
 
 ( ' O ! he 's one of the pious Goby sort,' ha, 
 ha ; I laughed in spite of myself." 
 
 " He gave me a high compliment," said 
 Guilford, gravely. 
 
 "Yes, I s'pose you'd think so, but I can 
 tell you Miss" Mary did not. You should have 
 seen her lip curl." 
 
 "The approbation of a greater than she 
 fills my heart," said Guilford; ""all the Marys 
 and Colonel Lcffingwells in the world have 
 not power enough to draw me from Christ.
 
 92 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 I dread neither their sneers nor their con 
 tempt. I wish neither for their favor or ap 
 plause, save in the way of my duty. My 
 foundation is a sure one heaven help them it 
 their's should fail them ! " 
 
 Austin Grande was suddenly silent. He 
 walked on with Guilford to the door. Two 
 or three half-drunken men talked idly and 
 wandered round, still the mixing of liquors 
 could be heard, and voices calling for more. 
 There they parted, Guilford to seek his cham 
 ber, which was on the opposite side of the 
 house, Austin to join the dancers, but with an 
 awakened conscience and uneasy mind. 
 
 Very sweet was Guilford's communion with 
 God, that night. He knelt down near the 
 open window to be farthest from the noise 
 and confusion, and there, tracing the hand 
 writing of his God amid the stars, he remain 
 ed in a silent trance of love and adoration. 
 "Thou art giving me larger shares of grace," 
 he murmured, "because thou dost see my 
 new, and enlarging temptations, my new and
 
 AT THE MILLS. 93 
 
 perhaps bitter trials. Father, I thank thee 
 that thou dost deem me worthy. Thou hast 
 taken me from the pit of miry clay ; hence 
 forth I am thine, do with me as thou wilt." 
 
 Some little time before sunrise, but when 
 its coming light made objects perceptible, 
 Guilford was awakened by a slight noise. 
 Austin Grande had just seated himself at a 
 window. His throat was bared, his thick 
 hair thrown back from a flushed forehead, and 
 his eyes were restless. 
 
 "" What ! are you up so early ? " asked Guil 
 ford, half lifting himself from his pillow. 
 
 " Up ! you don't suppose I've been to bed, 
 do you ? " asked Austin with a short laugh. 
 
 " Haven't you really been to bed, at all ? " 
 queried Guilford, in astonishment. 
 
 "$0, to be sure I haven't," replied Austin. 
 " I can never go to sleep after a dance ; my 
 temperament is such a wide awake one when 
 there's anything exciting going on. I should 
 make a queer Methodist, I fancy, should live 
 on faith and sleep on hallelujahs."
 
 94 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 " Don't, don't ! Austin," said Guilford, in a 
 hurt tone, "don't make sport of religion. 
 You'll be sorry for it, some time." 
 
 "I may turn out as good a Christian as you, 
 yet," said Austin, lightly." 
 
 " O ! don't say that," cried Guilford, still in 
 the same tender tones of remonstrance, " you 
 make me feel my shortcomings wofully. That 
 you may be a Christian is my fervent prayer, 
 but take Christ, and Him only, as your pat 
 tern." 
 
 " I can't say that I am particularly anxious, ' 
 replied Austin, in whom the spirit of vindic- 
 tiveness was rising, "it is not my way to 
 parade my feelings, and make a show of my 
 principles on- all occasions. If religion calls 
 for that, I'm sure I shan't become a disciple. 
 You professors think that if a man enjoys 
 himself, he must go to perdition. I hate such 
 narrow mindeduess ; I tell you I hate it ! " 
 
 Guilford was silent for some moments, then 
 he said, gently, most sweetly and gently, 
 "wouldn't it be better for you, my friend,
 
 AT THE MILLS. 95 
 
 to lie down and get a little rest ? I'm afraid 
 the day's duties will be too much for you, if 
 you don't." 
 
 "Don't worry," said Austin, curtly, un 
 graciously, and yet the tears stood in his eyes. 
 He was angry with Guilford because he felt 
 how immeasurably above him were the rules 
 upon which he formed his life ; still, he was 
 angry also with himself that he allowed the 
 mastery of his evil disposition, for with all 
 his bitter language against religion, he vaunt 
 ed himself upon his morality, called himself 
 better than many who were not of the world. 
 
 "I believe I will rise," said Guilford, a 
 moment after. 
 
 " I suppose you want all the room there is 
 here, to pray in," said Austin, and with this 
 unkind, ungracious speech he left the cham 
 ber. 
 
 It was not long before Guilford, who had 
 been some time through with his toilet saw 
 the face of Austin at the door. In he came, 
 impulsively.
 
 96 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 " Guilford," he exclaimed, " I want you to 
 forgive me." 
 
 " My friend," said the agent, with smiling 
 earnestness, w I have nothing to forgive." 
 
 w Don't say that. I have been most im 
 pertinent to you, this morning. The fact is, 
 things went wrong last night, and just now I 
 wasn't quite myself. Don't look so hor 
 rified ; I mean that I was cross, hateful, bear 
 ish ; I never drink, you will find nie guiltless 
 of that fault, whatever else I do. I won't ask 
 you to put up with my waywardness, that 
 would be too much; but please remember 
 that I am a poor, nervous being, easily in 
 fluenced ; would to heaven I were not," he 
 added, almost passionately. 
 
 w Austin, will you let me say " 
 
 w Ko, no; don't talk to me now, I beg," 
 cried the young man, stepping back a little ; 
 w I shall only say something that will hurt your 
 feelings. ut putting religion aside, I am 
 sure I wish to act like a gentleman, and some 
 how when you mention some things, it heats
 
 AT THE MILLS. 97 
 
 my blood, and I feel the risings of a temper 
 that is not easily stirred. But Goilford Coit, 
 understand me, I like you ; don't feel that you 
 are in the way, though yon would be quite 
 justified in leaving my company this minute. 
 I like you, but I have an unaccountable dislike 
 to your profession. However, if yon are 
 all right, perhaps you are; perhaps I am 
 wrong ; who knows what may happen in time ? 
 I am not a happy man, I long ago gave up the 
 hope of ever being one. To speak the truth, 
 I am often weary of my life. Why? That 
 I can't tell you. I love to look in your nice 
 sometimes, there is such a peace there; I 
 shall never know peace, never, never." 
 
 w Do you forbid me to speak to you upon 
 the important subject of your soul's salvation ? " 
 asked Guilford, solemnly. n Dare you take the 
 responsibility of a command involving such 
 weighty consequences ? " 
 
 " I don't wish a word said about it, not a 
 word," exclaimed Austin, briefly. 
 
 w Then you and I must part," said Guilford, 
 sadly, quietly.
 
 98 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 "Part! why?" exclaimed Austin, almost 
 breathless. 
 
 " I love you too much already, to leave you 
 in your fancied security. If I am where you 
 are, I must speak to you of Christ." 
 
 Austin turned away. It was singular how 
 deep an affection for this stranger had sprung 
 up in his heart ; seemed so deeply seated that 
 it gave him a pang to feel that they might be 
 separated. His features worked with emo 
 tion, a struggle was going on in his soul. 
 
 " I will tell you what I will promise," said 
 Guilford, deeply moved, " not to intrude upon 
 you at unseasonable times ; to wait till you 
 seem to lead, as you have on several occasions, 
 as you will again, believe me, for the spirit is 
 not done with you yet. Austin, my friend, 
 will you let me promise this ? " 
 
 Austin walked rapidly to the window. A 
 sense of such utter desolation had come over 
 him at the thought of losing the constant com 
 panionship of this noble young man, that it 
 amounted to absolute pain. And yet, the
 
 AT THE MILLS. 99 
 
 hatred, it can be called by no more gentle 
 name, that possessed his heart and his imagin 
 ation towards the humility and self-denial, and 
 lowly-mindedness of the religion adopted by 
 his friend, sprang up, fiend-like, and importun 
 ed him to give no heed to his counsels, to 
 break with him, rather, then and there. But 
 a better spirit prevailed. Whether he saw 
 the mournful eyes of the mother, who amidst 
 all her suffering had been the gentlest of 
 Christians, whether he heard her voice plead 
 ing in the secret recesses of his heart, or 
 whether the mere admiration of the agent, 
 the magnetism, as it were, of a finer and 
 nobler nature than his own, attracted his 
 sympathies, cannot be told. 
 
 " If you will wait till I lead, or seem to 
 lead," he said, extending his hand, frankly, 
 " then I give you permission, with all my 
 heart, for I can't lose you." 
 
 " Thank you ! God be thanked ! " said Guil- 
 ford, fervently. At that moment the bell 
 rang for breakfast. Little Hager stood at her 

 
 100 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 post, as usual, but the eyes, wont to be so 
 sparkling, the cheeks, usually rose-red, were 
 languid and pale. The dissipation of the pre 
 vious night told upon her with startling effect ; 
 she looked sad, jaded and wearied. She 
 brightened a little when Austin asked her 
 about the ball. 
 
 "I never enjoyed myself so much in my 
 life," she said frankly ; then as she marked the 
 pitying glance of Guilford, she blushed crim 
 son, for she had heard the whisper that went 
 the rounds of the ball-room, that this young 
 man thought it a sin to spend time in such 
 amusements, and she felt in her very soul, 
 little as she had thought of such things, that 
 -it was no place for him. But if wrong for 
 him, why was it not injurious for her, for 
 those who had spent the night in such a scene 
 of vanity and frivolity? This thought was 
 but the opening wedge for others. She began 
 to analyse her own motives, in a vague and 
 childish way, to be sure, for it was a new oc 
 cupation co her, but none the less seriously
 
 AT THE MILLS. 101 
 
 and faithfully. She brought the scene before 
 her. There was Betty Day, whose mother 
 was so poor, whose little brothers and sisters 
 were never decently clothed, and yet there 
 was Betty, one of the best dressed girls in the 
 room, with showy gold ear-rings and a gold 
 bracelet, all bought at the expense of proper 
 food and clothing for the poor mother and 
 little brothers and sisters at home. If it were 
 not for this exciting pleasure, perhaps Betty 
 would think more of her higher duties, but 
 she was vain and wished to look as well as the 
 rest. Then there was Frank Alford, who 
 they said if kept away from the sight of liquor 
 would never touch it ; how terribly drunk he 
 was, and how some of the others, who ought 
 to know better, would coa.x him down to treat 
 them. She knew there must be a large score 
 against him on the wall of her father's bar, 
 and her cheek grew hotter than ever at the 
 thought of the poor, kind old mother, from 
 whom so much of her daily support must be 
 taken at the end of the month for it would 
 

 
 102 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 break fearfully into his wages, and what had 
 he to show for it, save the disgrace of the sot? 
 
 She turned to Sarah, who had her own sad 
 thoughts, and said, "what do you think, 
 Sarah ; you know how it was last night. Isn't 
 it all wrong ? " 
 
 "Wrong about dancing, do you mean?" 
 queried Sarah. 
 
 " About such times as we had last night. 
 Didn't you see how badly some of the men 
 behaved?" 
 
 " O ! that's because they had been drink 
 ing." 
 
 "But he thinks it's dreadful, I know, "said 
 Hager, her clear eyes taking on a serious 
 light. 
 
 "And who is he, pet? our new agent, I 
 suppose you mean. I noticed he was no 
 where to be seen. No, he wouldn't go, be 
 cause he's a professor of religion, and they 
 never attend such places, and never ought 
 to," she added thoughtfully. 
 
 "Then if it's wrong for them, why isn't it 
 for us ? " queried Hager, earnestly.
 
 AT THE MILLS. 103 
 
 " Perhaps it is," responded Sarah, in a low 
 voice, a flush coming to her cheek ; " that is so 
 far as it makes us wish for the pleasure for the 
 sake of being seen, of showing off finery, or 
 enjoying the mere excitement of motion. I 
 never felt so tired of it as I did last night ; 
 some way I was provoked with myself for 
 going." 
 
 "Maybe Mr. Coit will make us all feel so," 
 said Hager, innocently. "You don't know 
 how solemn like, and yet it was beautiful, he 
 talked to me the night before. -I was making 
 wreaths that are all faded now, poor things, 
 and he told me what fine taste I had. He 
 iasked me did I like dancing ; and I told him 
 how much I enjoyed it. Well, I can't remem 
 ber all he said; at any rate, he spoke of hav 
 ing higher pleasures now; he had given 
 himself, he told me, to the Lord Jesus Christ, 
 and found, oh ! so much joy in serving Him. 
 You ought to have seen his face when he said 
 it. Then when I said we had no church, 
 why ! you never saw any one give such a
 
 104 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 look it made me feel as guilty ! and I 'm sure 
 I never thought of the thing before." 
 
 " Is that all he talked about ; " asked Sarah 
 Church, her eyes bent on her work. 
 
 "Yes, that's all he said then, but somehow 
 there's something about him that's always 
 talking even when he don't speak a word, he 
 looks so good ! " 
 
 " So he does ;" said the drunkard's daughter, 
 thoughtfully.
 
 CHAPTER VH. 
 
 A SABBATH DAY'S JOURNEY. 
 
 H E Sabbath day came, sunny and 
 serene. Tristam Saint had held sev 
 eral conferences with his wife with reference 
 to the new agent, while at the same tune he 
 had sedulously kept himself out of his way. 
 It was strange, but true, that Hulda Saint had 
 seemed a different woman since Guilford 
 Coit had come to the tavern. She had al 
 ways been a quiet body, meek and placid, 
 but now from under the quaint, frilled border 
 of her cap, her eyes looked with a more con 
 tented light, for she often said to herself. " I 
 know good will come of it. I was certain 
 from the first, that good would come of it." 
 
 Tristam Saint always made a show of keep 
 ing his bar closed on the Sabbath.
 
 106 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 " I'm glad of that," said Guilford, pointing 
 to the barred door. 
 
 "Glad of what?" echoed Austin Grande. 
 
 " That our landlord keeps his bar closed on 
 the Sabbath. I was afraid he did not." 
 
 w Neither does he, there's a back door to 
 this establishment," replied Austin, seiiten- 
 tiously, "that's open all day and many a good 
 customer goes through it, too." 
 
 w Is that a fact? " queried Guilford, in con 
 sternation. " Worse and worse ; if this thing 
 continues I must either remonstrate or leave 
 my boarding-place." 
 
 " What good do you think you would do ? " 
 asked Austin, with an incredulous smile. 
 
 " I should do my duty," replied the young 
 man. K Now if you were with me, might we 
 not move the town ? Christ has given a great 
 promise to only two or three met in his name." 
 
 K Never mind," replied Austin, uneasily, " I 
 tell you once for all, there's no use in talking 
 with me. I don't see things as you do ; I 
 can't ; it isn't in me. I shall try to do right,
 
 A SABBATH DAY'S JOURNEY. 107 
 
 but as for this extra work, this going through 
 a spiritual mill to be ground over, I don't be 
 lieve in it, and what's more, it is at variance 
 with my common sense ; I can't believe it." 
 
 w It is not at variance with the Bible," said 
 Guilford, softly. 
 
 ff There it is again. The Bible, don't you 
 see, my friend, is to me like a kaleidoscope, 
 which shows to every one, different forms and 
 colors, although the same bits of colored glass 
 give shape to the varying figures." 
 
 " I hope you do not compare the words of 
 One who spake as never man spake, to worth 
 less, painted glass," said Guilford, rebuking- 
 
 iy- 
 
 w Pshaw ! don't take things so seriously ; of 
 course I have respect for the old writers of 
 the Book of books, as it is named, for him 
 who is considered the Saviour of the world, 
 and all that ; but then, my meaning is this, I 
 don't translate the Bible in your language, 
 Perhaps what you would call white I should 
 call black and vice versa."
 
 108 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 Guilford was pained at this return of levity. 
 
 " Take a cigar ? " said Austin, coolly offering 
 one of the costliest. 
 
 "No, I thank you, Austin ; I gave up my 
 cigars not long after my wine drinking, my 
 billiard-playing, my theatre going ; no more 
 cigar smoking for me." 
 
 " Come now," and Austin surveyed him 
 with a cool, steady stare, "you don't pretend 
 that you consider cigar-smoking a sin ; I 
 might agree about the other things, and even 
 those I should only dub follies, but the idea 
 that smoking is a sin, that's what I call ridic 
 ulously fanatical. For goodness sake en 
 lighten me, what sin do you make of smoking, 
 you old young man, you?" 
 
 "I was thinking," said the other, coming 
 out of a little brown study that had left some 
 agreeable reflection in the form of a smile that 
 touched lip and brow with sunshine, " of old 
 aunt Ann Phipps." 
 
 " What in the world has that to do with ci 
 gar-smoking ? "
 
 A SABBATH DAY'S JOUKNEY. 109 
 
 "Much every way with mine. Aunt Ann 
 Phipps was a queer old woman, and because 
 queer, neglected. She had a house, such as 
 it was, the foolish boys called it Jolly Castle. 
 There was scarcely more than one room at all 
 habitable, but aunt Ann managed to live in 
 that. The poor old soul was a church-mem 
 ber, but had grown strange in her years, and 
 neglected the " meetin ," as she called it . There 
 was something disjointed in her poor mind. 
 Probably a long life .of poverty had embittered 
 her. What made matters still worse for her, 
 she had a brother who was very rich, who in 
 town lived in style, and utterly ignored the 
 poor soul because she was not as others were. 
 Shall I go on about aunt Ann Phipps ? " 
 
 " Certainly, tell your story, though I don't 
 see what that has to do with smoking." 
 
 " You shall. Aunt Phipps is forever da- 
 guerreotyped on my memory. She wore a 
 red calash, a green veil, a short black quilted 
 petticoat that came only to her ankles, a bed 
 gown, as the people used to call it, looped up
 
 110 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 in a ridiculous fashion; in short, had she 
 stepped out of some antique picture-frame 
 a hundred years ago, she could not have look 
 ed more provokingly queer. I never met her 
 without such an inclination to mirthfulness as 
 obliged me to turn my head. I believe peo 
 ple got tired of old aunt Ann. Her bluntness, 
 for she was always saying the most unpleasant 
 things in an aggravating way of her own, 
 made her visits distasteful. She was tolerat 
 ed by the lady I then boarded with, but she 
 frequently returned her kindness by ungrate 
 ful remarks. I remember her saying once 
 when she came in, f Miss Butts, that cheese 
 you gave me wasn't fit for a dog, child, I 
 don't see how your boarders can eat it.' 
 
 ' Why didn't you bring it back ! ' asked the 
 good lady. 
 
 ' La ! I gave it to the cat.' 
 
 "And yet with all this eccentricity there was 
 genuine good in the woman. She was scru 
 pulously neat and clean, and her one great 
 trouble was the fear that she might yet have
 
 A SABBATH DAY'S JOURNEY. Ill 
 
 to go to the poor house. For an old woman 
 like her, she certainly fought hard to keep the 
 wolf from the door. She planted her own 
 little patch with vegetables and knit and spun 
 while she had any strength. It was a 
 picturesque sight to see her sitting in the low 
 doorway of the ruined house, the high colors 
 which she always contrived to wear, contrast 
 ing with the gloom and dinginess within. 
 Old aunt Ann Phipps always smoked a short 
 pipe." 
 
 "Ah ha!" said Austin, "there comes the 
 moral." 
 
 "No, it don't for Aunt Ann smoked till 
 she died. Nobody had the heart to interfere 
 with her privileges, poor lonely old soul. 
 One day, a friend of mine was going by the 
 ruined house with me. We heard sounds of 
 distress within, and entered. There was the 
 old creature almost in convulsions, because 
 they were going to carry her to the poor 
 house. She was ill, and could not work. 
 The poor soul cried piteously, only to die at
 
 112 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 home only not to be disgraced I ' O, Mr. 
 Coit,' she pleaded, holding out her withered 
 hands, 'save me and the blessing of the 
 poor and needy will follow you through life.' 
 Her streaming eyes, piteous tones, and gray 
 hair, appealed to me powerfully. I said at 
 once, " let her stay, gentlemen, I will be re 
 sponsible for her expenses." We went out, 
 Adam and I, and stood there looking at each 
 other." 
 
 "It will be at the least calculation, two dol 
 lars a week," he said, " and you are by no 
 means rich." Suddenly, it occurred to me, 
 that.my last year's cigar bills averaged a dol 
 lar a- week, and said I, "I'll give up my 
 cigars that will pay one half." 
 
 "I don't intend to be outdone," Adam 
 responded. " I'll give up my cigars ; and the 
 miserable old creature shan't go to the poor- 
 house." We shook hands upon it, and were 
 both, I doubt not, better men for the self- 
 denial. For six months, we took care of old 
 Aunt Ann. She never needed eyes, for we
 
 A SABBATH DAY'S JOURNEY. 113 
 
 went regularly to the tumble down cottage, and 
 read to her by the hour. Her mind grew 
 clearer towards the last. The broken faculties 
 were re-united ; the clouds lifted, and the les 
 sons of her dying hour were sublime ; I never 
 have forgotten them. But here comes in the 
 moral. Finding that cigars contributed but 
 little to my happiness, I have never touched 
 them since, and I have thus made a clear sav 
 ing from that time to this, for the benefit of 
 the poor and needy, of nearly eight hundred 
 dollars. Now, you see, my friend, that sum 
 would have been expended in smoke." 
 
 w Rather convincing." And Austin put his 
 well nigh exhausted cigar to his lips, and 
 puffed softly. w I, however," he continued 
 between the light spirals that went curling up 
 gracefully, "am a very hardened sinner, I 
 expect. ,The fact is, I love my cigar. It 
 soothes me under my varied trials ; it consoles 
 me for repeated disappointments, ; it is in 
 fact" 
 
 " Your substitute for religious faith," said 
 
 Guilford, smiling.
 
 114 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 M Well, to be candid yes ; I suppose it is. 
 You take a fellow up so quickly ! but, I suppose 
 that's the amount of the matter. I don't feel 
 any particular movings of religious faith, that's 
 certain and I do feel better for a good cigar. 
 Yes : I suppose it comes to that." He laugh 
 ed as he spoke, but he was conscious of a dead 
 weight upon his soul, and an inner longing 
 that all possessions failed to satisfy. He was 
 far from being happy, and that consciousness 
 mixed gall in his cup of pleasure. 
 
 It was a charming walk for Guilford along 
 roads scented with thousands of dewy flowers. 
 It seemed as if the birds sang more sweetly, 
 because it was the Sabbath morning. The 
 people were not yet stirring ; no smoke came 
 from the chimneys of the farm houses. Soft 
 ly from tree to tree whispered the bland voices 
 of summer. How beautiful the fields were, 
 their feathery plumes swaying before tho 
 light winds ! Lowly they bent in the presence 
 of their Maker, those ranks of com, those 
 armies of wheat, doing battle only with air
 
 A SABBATH DAY'S JOUBNEY. 115 
 
 and sunshine. The hallowed nature of the 
 holy day seemed to brood over all inanimate 
 things. 
 
 It was a long walk, but in such sweet com 
 munion had the time passed, to Guilford, 
 communion not only with nature, but with 
 nature's God, that he was quite taken by sur 
 prise at sight of the plain white spire, rising 
 beyond the thick foliagcd trees. 
 
 O ! it was good to see that house of God, 
 good to see the well-dressed people flocking to 
 its pleasant doors. 
 
 Happy as he had felt before, a new joy 
 possessed hiin as he entered the sacred place 
 and bowed before his Father. As he sat there 
 revolving many thoughts of the years gone by, 
 in his mind, the peace of God that passes all 
 understanding filled him with joy unutterable. 
 He felt as if he could almost see Jehovah, 
 face to face, and earnestly went up that wrest 
 ling cry for Austin, "give me his soul, oh, 
 Lord ! " 
 
 Then was the worship of the day begun.
 
 116 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 A venerable man led in a simple, seasonable, 
 heart-felt prayer. Next came the melody so 
 sacred to every Christian heart, dear OLD 
 HUNDRED. How the solemn strains of that 
 glorious tune carry us back to the times of the 
 reformers, Luther and his devoted band ! 
 He, doubtless, was the first to strike the 
 grand old chords in the public sanctuary of his 
 own beloved Germany. From his great, 
 stentorian lungs they rang, vibrating, not 
 through vaulted cathedral roof, but along a 
 grander arch, the eternal heavens ! Each 
 note was inwrought with his own sublime 
 faith, and stamped with that faith's immortal 
 ity. Hence it cannot die. Neither men nor 
 angels will allow it to pass into oblivion. 
 
 Can you find a tomb in the land, where seal 
 ed lips lie that have not sung that tune ? If 
 they were gray old men, they had heard or 
 sung Old Hundred. If they were blue-eyed 
 babes, they smiled as their mothers rocked 
 them to sleep, singing Old Hundred. Sinner 
 and saint have joined with the endless con-
 
 A SABBATH DAY'S JOURNEY. 117 
 
 gregation where it has, with and without the 
 pealing organ, sounded on sacred air. The 
 dear little children, looking with wondering 
 eyes on this strange world have lisped it. 
 The sweet young girl, whose tombstone told 
 of only sixteen summers, she whose pure and 
 innocent face haunted you with its mild beau 
 ty, loved Old Hundred, and as she sang it 
 with closed eyes, seemed communing with the 
 angels who Avere so soon to claim her. He 
 whose manhood was devoted to the service of 
 his God, and who, with faltering steps, as 
 cended the pulpit stairs, with white hand 
 placed over his laboring chest, loved Old 
 Hundred. And though sometimes his lips 
 only moved, away down in his heart, so soon 
 to cease its throbbings, the holy melody was 
 sounding. 
 
 The dear, white headed father, with his 
 tremulous voice, how he loved Old Hundred ! 
 Do you not see him now, seated in the vener 
 able arm-chair, his hands crossed over the top 
 of his cane, and a tear, perchance, stealing
 
 118 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 down his furrowed cheeks as the noble strains 
 ring out? Do you not hear that thin, quiver 
 ing, faltering sound now bursting forth, now 
 listened for, almost in vain ? If you do not, 
 we do ; and from such lips, hallowed by four 
 score years service in the Master's cause, Old 
 Hundred sounds indeed a sacred melody. 
 
 You may fill your churches with choirs, 
 with Sabbath prima donnas, whose daring 
 notes emulate the steeple, and cost almost as 
 much, but give us the spirit-stirring tones of 
 Old Hundred, sung by young and old togeth 
 er. Martyrs have hallowed it, it has gone up 
 from the dying beds of the saints. The 
 ancient churches, where generation after gen 
 eration has worshipped, and where many 
 scores of the dear dead have been carried and 
 laid before the altar where they gave them 
 selves to God, seem to breathe of Old Hun 
 dred from vestibule to tower-top ; the very 
 air is haunted with its spirit. Think for a 
 moment of the assembled company who have, 
 at different times and in different places join-
 
 A SABBATH DAY'S JOURNEY. 119 
 
 ed in the familiar tune. Throng upon throng, 
 the stern, the timid, the gentle, the brave, 
 the beautiful, their faces all beaming with the 
 inspiration of the heavenly sounds. 
 
 " Old Hundred : king of the sacred band of 
 ancient melodies ! " thought G-uilford ; " never 
 will my ears grow weary of hearing, or my 
 tongue of singing thee ! And when we reach 
 heaven, who knows but this will be the first 
 triumphant strain that welcomes us, 
 ' Be them, God, exalted high!' "
 
 CHAPTER VIH. 
 
 THE DRUNKARD'S DELIRIUM. 
 
 SABBATH day's journey nearer hea 
 ven, did that delightful season seeai. 
 Guilford dreaded to leave this pleasant, God 
 fearing village, for Clifton Locks. Its noise, 
 its dreary, worldly aspect, came upon him as 
 it never had before in contemplation. It 
 seemed to be a place self-exiled from the light 
 of God's countenance. He passed from the 
 pleasant burying-ground where he had been 
 musing over graves, and almost with reluct 
 ance took his way home. The heat of the 
 day was over, and the sounds of nature more 
 animated than when he had passed over the 
 same road in the morning. Children smiled 
 at him from farm house-gates, and stout dogs 
 gave friendly greetings. Here and there 
 might be seen the cows on their homeward 
 
 120
 
 THE DRUNKARD'S DELIRIUM. 121 
 
 track. Sometimes the young man paused to 
 hear a sweet strain of old familiar music as it 
 floated out of cottage windows. Now and 
 then he met an aged man, tottering out by 
 the roadside, for whom he made obeisance 
 lower than he would to a crowned king. The 
 flowers by the way, were dusty, but their 
 fragrance still came pleasantly up. Never did 
 the sky look fresher, bluer, fairer ; never did 
 the smoke curl heavenward with more grace 
 and lightness ; never seemed the trees such 
 pleasant things, throwing long shadows. 
 
 Nearing Clifton Locks, the first sight he 
 saw was a brace of young men, coatless, bear 
 ing fishing lines, while in baskets by their 
 side, the dying trout leaped and lay gasping. 
 Then as he passed these he heard a drunken 
 song, and several couples, men and women, 
 glided in and out of a small pine grove, where 
 they had doubtless spent the day. The farther 
 he went, the heavier grew his heart. Nature 
 was just as beautiful ; but man was vile, 
 thoughtless, Godless.
 
 122 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 "It must not be so," he said to himself. 
 " There must be a change ; some influence 
 must be brought to bear upon this town, 
 Jesus Christ, must be preached." 
 
 " Just then he turned aside at the sound of 
 horses' feet. A gay cavalcade swept past, 
 headed by the Colonel's daughter, the win 
 some, high-hearted Mary Leffingwell. 
 
 "Alas, again," thought Guilford, as he 
 bowed cooly; "there is all the company of 
 Rose-Hedge passing the day in sport and 
 pleasure ; how can it be expected when such 
 as these profane God's Sabbath, that the peo 
 ple who toil all the week, will sanctify one 
 day in seven? Alas! beautiful, vain girl, 
 God will not hold you guiltless in this thing, 
 and may He give me grace even to say the 
 same to you ; to speak the truth in the fear of 
 Christ." 
 
 He was now nearing i by-road or lane, on 
 the outskirts of Clifton Locks, in which stood 
 but one solitary cottage, very small and mean. 
 As he passed by there, it seemed to him he
 
 THE DRUNKARD'S DELIRIUM. 123 
 
 heard strange sounds. He paused a moment, 
 intently listening. He had scarcely com 
 prehended the nature of the disturbance be 
 fore the door opened, and Sarah Church ap 
 peared on the step, gazing wildly round. 
 Pier hair was dishevelled, her eyes red with 
 weeping, and altogether her manner and ap 
 pearance were calculated to fill any heart with 
 sorrow. 
 
 "What can be the matter with this poor 
 girl?" said Guilford, half aloud, as taking a 
 few steps, he presented himself before her. 
 She saw him ; her cheeks crimsoned with 
 shame, but her terror impelled her to cry out, 
 
 "O ! sir my father ! my poor father ! " 
 
 "What is the matter? pray tell me," asked 
 Guilford, entering the narrow, neglected yard. 
 "If I can help you in any way, command 
 me." 
 
 "My father, sir, is very unfortunate," and 
 as she spoke the tears began to fall, rolling 
 piteously over her cheeks. " He indulges 
 sometimes in drink, sir, and to-day " she
 
 124 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 sobbed, almost losing her self-control, "he 
 went down to the tavern after he had promised 
 me " she could get no further. Guilford 
 pitied her in her distress as he had never 
 pitied any one before. To see a daughter 
 forced to expose the sin of an only parent, is 
 of all sights, the saddest. 
 
 " He is silent, just now," murmured Sarah, 
 listening, " but it will not last long. O ! sir, 
 he has very nearly accomplished an awful 
 purpose, twice before, and now he is alone 
 with me, if" she shuddered, the thought was 
 too terrible for utterance. 
 
 It was not long before sounds of anguish 
 filled the air again. It was a fearful sight, 
 the strong man, athletic, handsome, his livid 
 face looking out from great meshes of snow- 
 white hair, his eyes almost starting from their 
 sockets. 
 
 "Save me, child, save me," he cried, as his 
 daughter entered the room, "there are ten 
 thousand devils here ; they want to tear my 
 soul from my body; to clutch my beating
 
 THE DRUNKAKD'S DELIRIUM. 125 
 
 heart out by the strings and leave me mangled 
 and bleeding ; oh, heaven I heaven that I 
 have mocked, save me ! " 
 
 " Have you a Bible near?" asked Guilford, 
 in a low tone, " if so, bring it here." 
 
 The frightened girl took from a broken 
 book-case the sacred volume that had belong 
 ed to her mother. Guilford opened at the 
 fly-leaf where, in a large bold hand, a name 
 was written, and held it before the dilated 
 eyes of the rum-maniac. 
 
 " O ! I see, I see I " he cried tremblingly, 
 " it is written on a tomb-stone in a grave-yard. 
 Where is it Sarah ? Where did I bury your 
 mother ! Did she have any cause of com 
 plaint against me, after she was dead? An 
 swer me that, girl. Did I not buy her a fine 
 tombstone and place it where, where my 
 child?" 
 
 " His mind began to wander again. That 
 fearful look of mania potu, that gathers in one 
 convulsed expression, shot over his face as he 
 turned away with moans and cries for mercy ;
 
 126 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 cries that tormenting fiends were Over him. 
 "O ! save me ! save me for the sake of my 
 poor child, save me from their torture ! " 
 
 Again Guilford held up the Bible, with a 
 vague hope that the sight of it would restore 
 him. "Ask Christ," he said solemnly, "He 
 will save you." 
 
 " Christ, Christ ! Where is He ? Give me 
 that book ; is He in there ? Oh ! they are 
 coming ! Show me what I shall do. Give me 
 the Bible, they dare not touch that," and he 
 snatched the sacred volume and held it to his 
 bosom convulsively. 
 
 " Find the name of Christ," he cried again 
 more agonized than before, "quick, quick, 
 find me the name of Christ. See they are 
 pouring fire all over me. O, I am in flames, 
 they torment me I they torture me ; find mo 
 the name of Christ." 
 
 Guilford turned to the name of the Saviour, 
 he placed his shaking finger upon it, crying, 
 " O ! Christ have mercy, don't let them tear 
 me ; see the fire ! it runs from their hands,
 
 THE DRUNKARD'S DELIRIUM. 127 
 
 their lips see, they are throwing it all over 
 the Bible, but it don't touch the name of 
 Christ ; oh ! Christ save me ! " 
 
 Thus did this victim of the thrice-accursed 
 ruin-traffic, rave, imploring with piteous 
 shrieks, the legions of phantoms that crowded 
 and yelled and menaced, to let him alone. 
 He clung to the Bible in all his agony ; he 
 clung to the name of Christ, until, exhausted 
 with his fearful struggle, he sank into a strange 
 stupor that looked like death. Guilford pro 
 vided aid for the unhappy man, and then left 
 the cottage, his heart sinking within him as he 
 thought of all he had seen and heard since he 
 left the pleasant church in which he had wor 
 shipped. 
 
 It was nearly dark when he reached the 
 tavern. Austin lay stretched on the settee 
 outside the door, composedly smoking. He 
 seemed to know Guilford's step, for he sprang 
 up as he neared him, with an expression of 
 hearty welcome. 
 
 " I'm tired as a dog," he said languidly, in
 
 128 THE AIILL AGENT. 
 
 reply to Guilford's question. "It's no fun to 
 ply a couple of oars, with a hot sun raining 
 fire upon you." 
 
 Guilford shuddered; he had so recently 
 heard those fearful words, and in connection 
 with such circumstances I 
 
 K You look a little under the weather," said 
 Austin, scanning his friend closely, " didn't 
 your walk agree with you? " 
 
 Guilford assured him that it did ; then re 
 lated the scene that had so unnerved him. 
 
 " Terrible ! terrible ! " exclaimed Austin, 
 " but the old fool ! what does he drink for ? 
 don't he know better than to torture that girl 
 to death? and she supporting him hi his 
 laziness? It's too bad!" 
 
 Guilford was silent, as he thought of the 
 gospel word, that man was as guilty in break 
 ing one command as though he transgressed 
 in all. He passed along, however, intending 
 to go to his room, when Austin called him. 
 
 r Come and sit down here," he said ; "there 
 is no noise ; people get beat out here, on Sun-
 
 THE DRUNKARD'S DELIRIUM. 129 
 
 day, and go to bed early. I want to talk to 
 you or rather, I want you to talk with me." 
 
 " Willingly," said Guilford, seating himself; 
 r what shall I talk about?" 
 
 " Well," Austin hesitated, " it's been on my 
 mind to ask you, more than once, how you 
 got in this state ; how you experienced this 
 change, I believe you call it." 
 
 " I will tell you," said Guilford, with a joy 
 ful bound at his heart ; " I will most gladly 
 tell you. In the first, place I was once an 
 infidel, and very nearly a deist. I had a cir 
 cle of friends, who had led me to think as 
 they did. There were eight of us, who had 
 banished the Word from our homes and 
 hearts seven of them energetic, sturdy, 
 robust men, made in the image of the Crea 
 tor. From sceptical readings, we each one of 
 us fell in with free-thinking associates, and 
 the result was a combination of intellect, 
 means and tastes, by which we hoped to make 
 our way and our fortunes in the world. 
 
 " We were all young men, the oldest not
 
 130 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 yet twenty-four, and AVC decided, at one of 
 our meetings, to form a union with some 
 others, who agreed with us in principles, and 
 who were in the main, too selfish to think of 
 anything outside of their own wants and 
 desires, to set off for the West, where we 
 might found a town, and raise a city in the 
 midst of the wilderness. People from every 
 part of the Eastern States, but more particu 
 larly from New England, were then emi 
 grating in great numbers, carrying with them, 
 as we sneeringly said, their old religious pre 
 judices and fanatical notions, to raise a fresh 
 crop in the new homes of the West. 
 
 w I was the youngest of the company, a boy 
 of nineteen ; thrown an orphan on the world 
 before I was five years old. I had been saved 
 from utter moral destruction, only by the 
 merciful providence of God. The oldest, the 
 noblest, and the most of a man among us, was 
 Watson Knowles. His physique was the most 
 splendid that I ever beheld. A broad, decid 
 ed brow; eyes deep, gray, and lustrous
 
 THE DRUNKARD'S DELIRIUM. 131 
 
 with a certain cheerful benignity, a cheek 
 ruddy with health, an intellect as command 
 ing 'as his stature was imposing, made him a 
 very handsome man. In all things, Watson 
 Knowles was tacitly permitted to take the 
 lead. He had become an infidel by reading 
 the works of Tom Paine, while yet very 
 youthful, and before reason had matured 
 his judgment, yet I never met a man who 
 was his equal in debate. He was gifted with 
 singular powers of attraction. All his co- 
 workers loved him ; I perhaps better than the 
 rest, for he had been more like a father to me 
 than a friend. He was strictly moral. I 
 never heard an oath from his lips ; I never 
 saw him use the mildest of stimulants ; I 
 never heard him speak in hot anger : he ob 
 served the outward forms of goodness, and 
 his disposition was peculiarly mild and affec 
 tionate. The prominent display of such traits 
 gave him an immense influence over those 
 who were in anyway subordinate to him, and 
 that was every one who came within his 
 sphere.
 
 132 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 With another man, Willoughby, by name, 
 Watson Knowles went out to survey the 
 promised land, and wrote back such glowing 
 accounts, that we were all fain to start by the 
 time whiter had fairly broken up. The land 
 was rich, he said, and he had chosen his place 
 forty miles from any other settlement, where 
 wood and water abounded. We should have 
 the best claim of any he had yet seen, and be 
 fore many months our colony would surpass 
 all the other towns along the river. 
 
 It was in the month of March, we started, 
 and in May we gathered together a strong 
 party. We labored hard on six days, the 
 seventh, which we regarded as a mere play- 
 day, we devoted to amusements and idle rest. 
 Bathing, swimming, fishing, and even dancing, 
 composed the sports of those holy hours. 
 We built a rude hall, where sometimes Wat 
 son Knowles and others gave lectures on 
 scientific and literary subjects. There were 
 plenty of good musicians in our own little 
 company, and our Sabbaths were as merry as
 
 THE DRUNKARD'S DELIRIUM. 133 
 
 a worldly heart could wish. Of course we 
 gathered iu emigrants, as we were often oblig 
 ed to confess, not exactly df the right sort. 
 They were lazy, improvident persons, with 
 villainous, hang-dog-faces, and nervous hands, 
 that seemed forever shuffling imaginary cards. 
 In fine, we had not a few gamblers and black 
 legs among us, who kept us in continual fear, 
 but who enjoyed our games and freedom from 
 religious restriction, mightily. None shouted 
 as loudly as they, in the sports ; none sang 
 wilder songs or danced with less weariness, 
 but as for work, the less they did of that, the 
 better. 
 
 It soon became evident that things did not 
 go prosperously with us. It was very strange ; 
 we had all we wanted, we were happy ; peo 
 ple of some sort were joining us from time to 
 time, but in fact the real homes of our prophesy 
 did not rise, neither did the smoke curl up from 
 peaceful chimneys. There were secret gin- 
 shops, which Watson, with all his vigilance, 
 and lecturing could not suppress. There were
 
 134 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 lapses from virtue of the most aggravating 
 character. The children strolled like very 
 vagabonds, and shirked the schools that were 
 provided for them; farms were neglected, 
 and altogether the prospect grew discourag 
 ing, even to such sanguine natures as ours. 
 Only on the Sabbath did the people show any 
 vitality. Then they came out in their best, 
 ready for the lecture, the river, the dance, the 
 fight, it mattered little which, provided they 
 had a taste of each during the twelve hours 
 sunlight. 
 
 " I don't see how it is," Watson used to say, 
 after any unusual wickedness had taken place, 
 to me, his friend and confidant, " I don't see 
 how it is ; " and he spoke in a discouraged way, 
 "I've tried my best to make things right here, 
 but they grow worse and worse every week. 
 I'm ashaSned of the whole concern." 
 
 It was proposed among us that Watson 
 should make a trip to some of the other settle 
 ments and stay a while. There was one to the 
 right and one to the left in a most flourishing
 
 THE DRUNKARD'S DELIRIUM. 135 
 
 condition. It was a good idea, Watson said, 
 and before the week was ended, he went. 
 During his absence, the confusion grew un 
 paralleled. Boats were stolen, a German was 
 stabbed, a woman beaten nearly to death, and 
 a hut set on fire. Depredations on fruit had 
 been committed by the children, who acted 
 more like fiends incarnate than human beings, 
 most of them being foreigners of the lowest 
 grade. By the time Watson returned, the 
 heads of the colony had become generally dis 
 satisfied, and were unwilling to continue in a 
 position so hemmed about with responsibil 
 ities which they found themselves unable to 
 meet. 
 
 " We were all anxious to hear the result of 
 our friend's investigation, you may well be 
 lieve, and our first query was, " what have 
 you learned ? " 
 
 "Boys," said he, "I've visited two settle 
 ments, and become convinced of one thing; 
 we shall go to the dogs if we don't make some 
 show of religious teaching here. They aro
 
 136 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 getting along famously down the river and 
 up, too : churches in both places ; and the 
 people do all their work and play, between 
 the Sundays, so they told me. What do you 
 think ! they have actually built a meeting 
 house down the river, and it's full every Sab 
 bath. One of the people there, told me they 
 wouldn't live in safety, if it wasn't for the 
 Sunday School ; and they have got along so 
 well, that they pay a tolerable salary for a 
 good preacher. Boys, it's no use for the 
 sake of the public, we must get up a Sunday 
 School." 
 
 It seemed an odd proposition to all of us. 
 What had come over our leader ? A Sunday 
 School ! There were murmurs of disap 
 probation ; still no one felt inclined to dis 
 pute with him, only one and another alluded 
 to the fact that we had no Bibles. 
 
 "He said he knew that, and had purchased 
 a few at the settlement. " I don't know as 
 they will harm us," he added with a faint 
 laugh. How well I remember that day!
 
 THE DRUNKARD'S DELIRIUM. 137 
 
 : 
 
 Then he arose ; said he was going to give 
 notice that there would be a Sabbath School 
 on the next day, in the dance-house ; that he 
 thought little by little we could cut off the 
 gambling and boating. 
 
 "No words can explain the state of OUT 
 minds then ; mine was in a perfect tumult, 
 and I could not think with any coherence. 
 My friend seemed changed, yet in what man 
 ner I could not tell ; there was something in 
 his eye, something in the very tones of his 
 voice, that went to my heart. 
 
 " The morrow dawned, and out of absolute 
 curiosity, I believe, there were nearly a hun 
 dred people present, parents and children. 
 We eight infidels, were confounded and un 
 easy. I had never been to a Sabbath School 
 in my life, and knew not what was expected 
 of me. 
 
 " They always open with prayer," whisper 
 ed some one, " who of us can pray ! " 
 
 "At least, I know the Lord's prayer," said 
 Watson ; " I learned it at my mother's knee,"
 
 138 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 he added with a strange and tender solemnity. 
 "Boys, I'll lead, but by next Sabbath, one of 
 you must learn something." So saying he 
 mounted the little platform, and folded his 
 hands. The position was a novel one to him, 
 as the sight was to us. He was about to ad 
 dress that great God, of whom he professed, 
 no mortal might inquire ; who was too lofty, 
 too entirely above man's comprehension, too 
 much absorbed in his mighty plans to notice 
 the creatures who crawled upon his footstool. 
 His face, even to his very lips grew white, 
 and his voice trembled in a way we had never 
 thought possible with him. I don't think one 
 of us smiled. For myself, I was awe-struck, 
 smitten with a nameless dread, and only 
 thinking how much it ennobled that princely- 
 looking man to stand erect before the pres 
 ence of the Most High, in the attitude of sup 
 plication. 
 
 " When he had prayed, he opened the 
 Bible. His hands shook as if they would 
 drop the sacred volume I involuntarily step-
 
 THE DRUNKARD'S DELIRIUM. 139 
 
 ped forward. He placed the book in my 
 hands, whispering, 
 
 " I believe I am not well ; I will go home, 
 and return soon, if I get better. Do you 
 read." 
 
 " I began to read with assurance, too igiio- 
 rantly assumed. Unwittingly, I had opened at 
 John 1 : 3, and as I read, the words im 
 bued with a new and wonderful light, sank 
 into my soul. These, with the impression of 
 my friend's last expression, together with the 
 remembrance of his appearance, affected me 
 so, that I soon wavered, and my voice was 
 drowned in tears. Another and another es 
 sayed to read, and finally, one of the eight 
 accomplished the chapter. The people seem 
 ed affected at a sight so unwonted. Some of 
 them remembered the religious ceremonies of 
 Father-land ; others thought of the tree-em 
 bowered New England Churches, in the 
 sweet villages they had left ; still others felt 
 the pressure of a mother's hand upon their 
 heads, and seemed to hear the holy prayer
 
 140 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 sent heavenward. At last, one weather- 
 beaten man, whose voice and countenance 
 betrayed his intense emotion, confessed the 
 waywardness of years and his resolve to lead 
 a better life. Then came two others, and that 
 meeting ended in a storm of prayer. God 
 appeared in the midst of that strange congre 
 gation. Men and women sang for joy. I 
 left them, terribly shaken in all my doubts 
 and hurried to my friend. I found him ill 
 and helpless ; he did not know me. Prone 
 upon his humble pallet, lay that grand figure ; 
 the hair tossed from the feverish brow ; the 
 clenched hands uplifted, as he called on God 
 to save, to be merciful to him. Day after 
 day, night after night, we watched " him, 
 through that fearful illness ; that fever of the 
 brain. 
 
 "At last, one beautiful morning, it was the 
 Sabbath, he seemed rational again. Recog 
 nizing me the first, he cried piteously, ' Oh, 
 Guilford, forgive me, boy, I have taught 
 you wrongly,' then with uplifted eyes and
 
 THE DRUNKARD'S DELIRIUM. 141 
 
 hands he said, ' there is a Jesus Christ. Go 
 to him, plead for one who has resisted him so 
 long. I am dying, Guilford, and I want you 
 to tell them in the Sabbath School that with 
 my last breath I proclaimed that there was a 
 Christ ; that though poor, miserable and sinful 
 I found myself, I depended on him for salva 
 tion.' 
 
 w Austin, my friend," and Guilford's voice 
 fell low, w it was his last breath. He smiled, 
 and then he slept, as I trust, in that Jesus he 
 had despised. I trust, I know he had gone 
 for pardon to Him who will in no wise cast 
 out the penitent. 
 
 " Oh ! as I looked at him then, that noble 
 countenance bereft of life, yet taking on a 
 halo of the brightness which encircled him 
 now, my soul cried out hi its anguish for 
 something to lean upon. "Words cannot tell 
 how utterly alone, how entirely helpless I 
 felt! 
 
 " Ah ! that death was as the seed of life. 
 Over that new-made grave we (alas ! now but
 
 142 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 seven) renounced our infidelity. It is but a 
 few years ago. I can seem to see that mound 
 of freshly-heaped earth, the coffin, the bright, 
 beautiful face, so placidly calm in death. I 
 see the aged minister whom we had called to 
 pray for us, feel the clasping of his hands, the 
 pressure of each other's hands when the coffin 
 was lowered. 
 
 "We called the Sabbath School after his 
 name. God blessed us. The holy day be 
 came an honor and a glory in our midst. 
 Quietly the population subsided into habits of 
 thrift and steadiness. Farms smiled, business 
 increased, churches sprung up, until when I 
 left we could count a colony of eight thousand, 
 and the white spires of five churches pointed the 
 way to eternal life." 
 
 A slight sob might have been heard at the 
 conclusion of this affecting story. Hager sat 
 back in the darkness of the unlighted room near 
 where Guilford was ; she had heard much of 
 it, for she stole out of the glare of the kitchen 
 where two or three young men were smoking
 
 THE DRUNKARD'S DELIRIUM. 143 
 
 and talking, to escape by herself to think. 
 Austin had listened quietly at first, but by 
 and by his manner grew nervous, he flung v 
 his half smoked cigar away, and folding his 
 arms, sat back, his tightly closed lips indi 
 cating much and deep feeling. He did not 
 resume his former lightness of manner at the 
 close, he was silent instead, and his face wore 
 an expression of the utmost seriousness.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 WHAT THE COLONEL THOUGHT OF THE 
 SABBATH. 
 
 the morning, Guilford felt it his duty 
 to call upon the poor family in whom he 
 had become interested the night before. 
 Sarah met him on the threshold. 
 
 " How is your father ? " asked Guilford. 
 
 " Better, sir, but very weak. O! I am 
 thankful you came that you said just what 
 you did. It has saved him, I hope. He had 
 three paroxysms during the night terrible 
 ones, but he held on to the Bible, and seemed 
 to think that would protect him. I trust you 
 do not think we have such scenes often," she 
 added, tears filling her eyes; "it is the first 
 tune it has served him this way. Will you go 
 in, sir? he has repeatedly asked for you." 
 
 14*
 
 THE COLONEL AND THE SABBATH. -145 
 
 Guilford assented, and they entered the 
 room. The scattered furniture, which in his 
 raving, the maniac had thrown about, was 
 now restored to order, and on a deep lounge, 
 that had felt the violence of his ravings, the 
 drunkard lay, pale, wearied out, his trembling 
 hands still folded over the volume that had 
 not been out of his grasp. 
 
 " O ! sir," he said, not trying to check tho 
 tears that began to stream down his pallid 
 cheeks, " I have been in hell." 
 
 " That is a sad experience," said Guilford, 
 gravely, taking a seat by his bedside. 
 
 w Sad ! " exclaimed the man, with a look of 
 horror, "yes, and you have used the right 
 word experience, not imagination. No one 
 need tell me that the sights I saw, and the 
 sounds I heard, were the distortions of a per 
 verted fancy. I did hear ; I did see. I have 
 had drunkards and drunkard-makers round 
 me, yelling, dancing and singing infernal 
 music. It rings in my ears now. O ! how 
 they seemed to gloat over me ! O ! how they
 
 146 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 clutched at me ! and one of the fiercest, whis 
 pered that they had come before the time. 
 O ! sir, you are a Christian ; my daughter, that 
 blessed child, tells me so ; do you see any 
 thing in me worth saving ? Can I be saved 
 from this appetite ? " 
 
 He lifted himself, and with ghastly eyes 
 fastened upon Guilford's face, awaited an 
 answer. 
 
 "Yea, you can be saved : because first, there 
 is power in Christ to save you, and secondly 
 there is power in you to seek salvation, and 
 to keep the wondrous gift, forever, with the 
 help of Christ. This Guilford enunciated 
 slowly, his glance never once moved from the 
 yearning look of the drunkard. 
 
 " There is something in your face, that com 
 forts me," said the troubled sinner, falling 
 back again; "something that goes to my 
 heart, and gives a warmth that I lost ages 
 ago. O ! sir, you do not know me I have 
 transgressed against light and mercy so 
 long I "
 
 THE COLONEL AND THE SABBATH. 147 
 
 " And Christ has had patience with you for 
 so long, I should think it would lead you to 
 Him now. What a mercy you did not die in 
 that dreadful delirium ! I think you could 
 not survive another." 
 
 "Do you, do you, indeed?" asked the man 
 earnestly, sweeping back the silvery locks 
 that fell over his forehead ; " oh ! how shall I 
 save myself ! That fearful appetite ! " 
 
 " Can you keep a promise ? " queried Guil- 
 ford. "Pardon me for putting the question 
 so bluntly ; I know how the demon appetite 
 paralyses all good every effort of the strong 
 est will." 
 
 M Yes, yes, that's it," said the man, in a 
 hopeless voice ; "but I think, I trust there is 
 man enough of me left to keep a promise. 
 I don't know, though ; how often have I at 
 tempted it ? " a tremulous sigh closed the sen 
 tence. 
 
 " Do you keep strong drink of any kind in 
 the house ? " 
 
 Sarah blushed crimson, and turned away.
 
 148 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 Poor child ! to hold him to her home, she had 
 purchased the fiery liquor, which he was in the 
 habit" of taking daily. 
 
 " I always keep it," said the man, in a low 
 voice. 
 
 w Give it up, sir, or there's no help for you. 
 It would be useless for you to pray, to call on 
 Christ for mercy, while you sheltered satan in 
 your very heart. Throw the vile stuff far 
 from you. Kesolve, in the strength of God, 
 that from this hour nothing of the kind shall 
 pass your lips. Surround yourself with triple 
 guards ; be even a prisoner in your own house, 
 before you encourage the demands of that 
 fearful appetite. Why, sir, in coming here 
 this morning, I thought what a beautiful place 
 might this be ! Here is land before your 
 door, quite neglected. Here is a field on one 
 side of your house, an orchard on the other. 
 "With proper care you might be a king over 
 that soil, a bounteous king, giving but to be 
 blest ; enriching but to have wealth ten fold 
 returned to you. Think how the flowers
 
 THE COLOXEL AND THE SABBATH. 149 
 
 would smile in your face, giving you mute 
 blessings for their existence ? Beautiful flow 
 ers ! only the clear water from heaven is their 
 drink. O ! my dear sir, I plead with you as 
 I would with my own father come out from 
 the region of darkness into the land of light. 
 You are in prison, shut in the iron walls of 
 sin. Without is the sunshine of God's peace, 
 the fruits of his blessings ; the arch of heaven, 
 where you and I may meet hereafter bloom 
 and beauty, and fragrance on all sides. Come 
 out ; God did not give you life that it should 
 see no Paradise in this world, poor as it is. 
 Come, my dear sir, stand up and say, ' I, too, 
 am a man a conqueror.' " 
 
 "I will, God helping me," said the drunk 
 ard, solemnly. " O ! sir, I have seen it all, as 
 you talked ; my jail, this corrupt heart ; my 
 jailer, the monster who putteth the bottle to 
 his neighbor's lips. His business is to de 
 stroy, to cut off hope ; to deform God's handi 
 work, to change the human heart to a devil ; 
 to desolate homes ; to curse God to his face ;
 
 150 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 to make earth like hell ; to starve babes ; to 
 fill church-yards ; to breed riots ; to feed jeal 
 ousy; to corrupt every honest impulse, to 
 blight every good resolve ; to teach mankind 
 to be thieves and robbers, adulterers and mur 
 derers ; and to glut the jails and prisons. 
 Does Tie dare hope for mercy ? " 
 
 The man had risen again ; every line in his 
 face quivered ; his eyes flashed ; his lips trem 
 bled; it was as the tempted accusing the 
 tempter. 
 
 " Father, dear father you must not get ex 
 cited again." 
 
 "No, daughter no, darling; oh! if I only 
 thought I should ever be a father to you once 
 more ; but, Sarah give me your hand, my 
 child ; I promise you, I will try." 
 
 " In the strength of God," whispered Guil- 
 ford. 
 
 "Yes. In the strength of God," repeated 
 the old man ; "pray for me, pray for me, sir. 
 O ! I have reason to bless you for coming here 
 to me."
 
 THE COLONEL AND THE SABBATH. 151 
 
 And Guilford did pray ; with all the fervor 
 of his soul, he sent his petition up to God, 
 who heareth. 
 
 " Let ine tell you, sir," said the old man, 
 clinging to his hand, before he went : w you 
 are the only living being I ever promised. 
 To myself, I have done so many a time ; oh ! 
 sir, I will try, indeed I will ; I will ask God 
 to help me. You don't know how I long to 
 be a better man." 
 
 Guilford listened with pleasure ; spoke 
 words of Christian sympathy, and set out on 
 his way to the mill, after promising to send 
 some one to remain with the sick man for 
 sick he really was, with the reaction of his 
 system, after so many, and fierce struggles. 
 
 Colonel Leffingwell was riding up to the 
 mills, as Guilford reached the door of his 
 office. 
 
 " Good morning," sir," said the bluff man, 
 heartily. 
 
 "Good morning," responded Guilford, 
 modestly touching his hat.
 
 152 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 Splendid day, isn't it ?" 
 
 " God has given us a glorious day, sir." 
 
 The Colonel cleared his throat ostentatious 
 ly, before he said, " and yesterday was de 
 lightful for for worshipping God, in the 
 great temples He has made," and the Colonel 
 waved his gloved hand and his riding whip 
 over toward the groves beyond them. 
 
 " Yes, sir," replied Guilford," all places are 
 consecrated where we worship the Deity." 
 
 " I suppose you would hardly agree with 
 us, sir," said the Colonel, with another loud 
 ahem ; w we spent our day in those ple'asant 
 aisles. It carries the thoughts up, sir, to be 
 surrounded by nature's beauties ; for my part, 
 give me the peace and quiet of the woods. 
 Did you attend church, sir?" 
 
 " I did," responded Guilford ; w in the next 
 village." 
 
 " I had half a mind to send for you, to join 
 us," said the Colonel, "but, perhaps, it would 
 not have accorded with your notions." 
 
 " Frankly, it would not," returned Guilford 
 smiling.
 
 THE COLOXEL AND THE SABBATH. 153 
 
 "You prefer to swelter in a meeting-i 
 house ; eh?" 
 
 " I prefer to go up to the sanctuary," said 
 Guilforcl, "where the soul is divested of all 
 distracting outward surroundings, and where 
 His people pray, and sing to His praise. I 
 love it, sir ; my heart is bound up in the wel 
 fare of Christ's Zion." 
 
 " O ! I perceive you are rather on the fanat 
 ical order," said the Colonel, lightly. " Now 
 / see Go<i in everything," he added, elevating 
 his handsome chin," and I do not feel that I 
 am in the wrong for wishing to choose my 
 way of worshipping God." 
 
 "If we worship Him in spirit, and in truth, 
 Colonel Leffingwell, we need not fear but we 
 shall be accepted," said Guilford, quietly. "I 
 felt, however, as if I saw, some yesterday, to 
 wards the close of the day, who had been 
 more intent upon their own pleasure than any 
 Christian service. I allude to those who 
 went fishing, and some others who appeared 
 to be intoxicated."
 
 154 THE MTT.T. AGENT ) 
 
 The cheek of the Colonel flushed. 
 
 w That was wrong, of course ; there will be 
 some unruly members in a community like 
 this; it was very wrong very disgraceful. 
 You must help us to put matters right, Mr. 
 Coit." 
 
 " Indeed I will," Guilford replied earnestly, 
 his eye brightening ; " but, sir, is there really 
 any necessity for keeping a bar-room in this 
 small village ? I am very sorry to be under 
 the obligation of remaining where death and 
 destruction are liberally dealt out. I do be 
 lieve, Colonel, that the landlord of our 
 tavern could be induced to give it up ; he 
 seems a reasonable kind of man." 
 
 The Colonel's cheek had flushed with a 
 deeper, broader crimson. 
 
 " I don't know ; I don't know," he said hur 
 riedly ; K the dickens take his religion," he 
 muttered to himself. 
 
 "It is doing great harm, sir, depend upon 
 it," said Guilford, gravely ; feeling deeply the 
 importance of the matter, and forgetting for a
 
 THE COLONEL AND THE SABBATH. 155 
 
 moment, that the Colonel was by far the larg 
 est sharer in the profits of the concern ; "we 
 are, and must be, in this world, the keepers 
 of our brothers, guarding the weak and guid 
 ing the wayward." 
 
 :t Yes yes," muttered the Colonel vaguely, 
 then starting, as if he had forgotten something, 
 he said, 
 
 " O 1 by the way we are to have a little 
 company up at Rose-Hedge on Tuesday night. 
 There will be no dancing, so I suppose your 
 peculiar views," he emphasied these two 
 words, "will hardly prevent you from joining 
 us." 
 
 "I shall be very happy to come, sir," said 
 Guilford, and the two went on their way. 
 
 Meantime Sarah Church had entered the 
 mills, and quietly taken her place by the side 
 of little Hager. Save the pallor of her cheeks, 
 there was no token given that she had suffer 
 ed. Her heart was full of gratitude to God, 
 that He had sent her timely aid, in her great 
 need. She was not wont to pray, but on that
 
 156 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 sad Sabbath, she had fallen on her knees be 
 fore God, crying out for help, only the mo 
 ment before she met Guilford Coit. It seem 
 ed like a wondrous miracle-answer. The 
 good old Goldby was. now at home with her 
 father, and her heart felt lighter and happier 
 than it had for years. She was like one long 
 lost in a cave, who sees afar off, a ray of 
 light, that speaks of liberty and life. 
 
 Hager's rose-bud face was unusually 
 thoughtful, and the dimples seldomer seen. 
 Intent upon her work the child seemed, and 
 there was a shade of thought in the hitherto 
 laughing blue eyes. All at once, after a long 
 silence, she spoke out, "What a nice place 
 our great hall would be ? " 
 
 Sarah paused, and looked at her. 
 
 "What were you saying, Hager?" she 
 asked. 
 
 O ! " the child blushed, why I was think 
 ing and I suppose I thought out loud," she 
 replied. 
 
 "You must have been very much in ear 
 nest," responded Sarah.
 
 THE COLONEL AND THE SABBATH. 157 
 
 " So you would be, if you could ,hear Mr. 
 Coit talk," said Hager earnestly. 
 
 " Yes, indeed yes, indeed," Sarah answer 
 ed, in a lower voice ; " I believe in his re 
 ligion." 
 
 M 1 guess you would, if you could see him 
 all the time," said Hager ; she looked up se 
 riously awe and wonder in her gentle eyes, 
 as she added, " I don't believe he ever does 
 anything wrong, and oh ! he's so patient ! " 
 
 " Patient, with whom? " 
 
 "Why, sometimes the men at the house 
 sneer and laugh at him, and ask him hard 
 questions, and say things that would make me 
 angry ; but he is just as quiet and pleasant ; 
 and as I said, takes pains to answer and put 
 them right, in such a patient way ! It al 
 most makes me cry," and the tears brimmed 
 up to her eyes. 
 
 Just then, a merry thoughtless girl was 
 passing. 
 
 " Who has seen saint Coit, this morning? " 
 she cried, lightly.
 
 158 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 "You see how they make sport of him," 
 murmured Hager, grievingly. 
 
 "It doesn't hurt him any dear," was 
 Sarah's reply, while she heard the loud laugh 
 going the rounds, as one girl after another 
 took up the jest; "but tell me what you 
 meant about the hall ? " 
 
 " Only I heard him talking about a Sab 
 bath-school ; and I thought if father said yes, 
 you know, we might manage to pick up a few 
 scholars, who were willing to go. Mr. Han- 
 fort is a religious man; he belongs to the 
 church, and always goes once on Sunday, to 
 the old village ; maybe he would help, and 
 Mr. Coit would be so glad ! because, you see, 
 it might lead the way for meetings here, and I 
 shouldn't wonder if he could preach as well 
 as anybody." 
 
 " Why, dear, you're laying plans for turn 
 ing us all topsy turvy ," said Sarah, smil 
 ing; "but, nevertheless, I suppose your idea 
 is to have Sunday-school at the tavern. I'm 
 afraid it'll be a long time before that happens.
 
 THE COLONEL AND THE SABBATH. 159 
 
 Mr. Hanfort is a church member, I know, but 
 for all that his children go boating on the Sab 
 bath ; and they are not going to give up their 
 sport in a hurry." 
 
 The laugh had not yet died out : still Guil- 
 ford was the subject of sneering remark. 
 
 "He's an odd copy of the canticles," cried 
 one black-eyed girl, whose hair was showily 
 dressed off with red ribbons. " Above all 
 things, I do hate your parading Christians al 
 ways making a fuss about their sentiments 
 and attempting to teach their betters. I'll 
 let him see he can't talk to me in a hurry." 
 
 " O ! Sarah," cried Hager in a low voice, 
 " there he is right behind her, and he must 
 have heard ! O ! it's too bad," and the crim 
 son of mortification mounted to her cheek. 
 Just then, the girl heard his voice. Bold as 
 she was, her eyes fell, and her face grew scar 
 let. In another moment he stood quietly be 
 side her. 
 
 " Have you hurt your hand ? " he asked, 
 seeing that her left hand was bound up.
 
 160 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 "I lamed it, yesterday," was the short 
 reply. 
 
 "Be careful how you use it to-day, then," 
 he said, and passed on. The girl with the 
 red ribbons, bit her lips, then curled them, 
 then tossed her head, but how was it? The 
 real malice she had felt was all gone, and in 
 its stead had come shame of self. She knew 
 he had heard her unkind remark : had heard 
 the light speeches on all sides, and yet how 
 calm, unmoved and gentle he looked, still 
 taking no notice. 
 
 Guilford paused a moment by Sarah 
 Church, and smiled toward Hager . He had seen 
 for some time, that in her young heart the 
 truth Avas working. . He knew it by a thousand 
 little signs ; he trusted much in her influence 
 with her father, for his plans were dimly form 
 ing. He saw a little cloud in the heavens. 
 What did it matter that it was but a spark on 
 the horizon? God was able to enlarge it. 
 
 " Prayer," he murmured to himself, walking 
 on, " fervent, unceasing prayer, will do the 
 work."
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE FASHIONABLE PARTY. 
 
 /COLONEL LEFFINGWELL'S house 
 V_l/ was always full of company. His wife 
 was an invalid, and fancied she required the 
 stimulus of perpetual excitement. She was 
 a fair, small woman, always resting in easy 
 chairs, luxuriously attired, or lying on lounges 
 attended by a delicate little girl who was her 
 own especial maid. 
 
 Mrs. Leffingwell was either extremely lan 
 guid, or excessively irritable. Denied the 
 pleasures to which she had always been accus 
 tom^ tUl within a few years, she had no 
 resources save to revel in the remembrance of 
 the past, and to dwell with pertinacious 
 small talk upon the glories she had seen, the 
 marvels she had met with. Her mind had 
 been systematically narrowed down by the
 
 162 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 routine of fashionable life. From the nur 
 sery she had emerged a wonder of conven 
 tionality ; to the first day of her long and 
 tedious illness, she had been the leader of a 
 clique, the glass of fashion and the mould of 
 form. 
 
 Maud Mary, her only daughter, had escaped 
 much of the drilling that had perfected her 
 mother. Consequently she was truer to na 
 ture, and having been always the companion 
 of her father and brother, her mind had taken 
 in an out-door strength, that gave it a certain 
 vigor, denied to hot-house plants. 
 
 To her mother, she seemed immature and 
 unlady-like. 
 
 " I have been sick ever since she was nine 
 years old," she would say apologetically; 
 w and consequently have been able to devote 
 very little time to the formation of her habits. 
 She 's perfectly rude : quite a barbarian. 
 Nelly, child, hand me my vinegarette," and 
 easy overcome by the perverse picture hci 
 child presented, as drawn by herself, she
 
 THE FASHIONABLE PARTY. 163 
 
 would snuff at the bottle till its pungency 
 drew tears that were carefully wiped away 
 with the finest and flossiest of handkerchiefs. 
 There never was a more fashionable invalid 
 than Mrs. Lydia Leflmgwell. As she patheti 
 cally observed to a friend, it took all her 
 time to invent new styles ; " where one can 
 possibly do nothing," she added, "you know 
 it is such a comfort to keep one's self well 
 dressed." 
 
 Merric inherited his mother's constitution, 
 (the family on her side was consumptive) but 
 he was a bright, merry, happy creature ; and 
 when she was confined to her sick chamber, 
 during the severer trials of her disease, he 
 was her sunshine. She idolized him ; indeed, 
 he took the place of God in her poor heart. 
 
 As usual, the house was bright with music, 
 flowers and laughter. Several city friends 
 had come to revel in the beautiful conserva 
 tories which were the Colonel's special pride, 
 and to eat the choice fruits which were culti 
 vated by Harvey, one of the most skilful of 
 English gardeners.
 
 164 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 w We must have plenty of flowers to-night," 
 said Mary, as she entered the wide hall, arm 
 and arm with a friend. 
 
 " O ! yes, in honor of your new, and I should 
 judge, immaculate agent," replied the other 
 laughing. w Did you know his mighty high 
 ness undertook to tell your father, that he and 
 all of us did unpardonably wrong in going in 
 the woods last Sunday to eat sandwiches and 
 hear the birds sing, instead of tramping to the 
 meeting-house, seven or eight miles off? " 
 
 "No," replied Mary; "but I consider it 
 very impertinent if he did so." 
 
 " Mary !" called her mother from an adjoin 
 ing room, "I believe my troubles will kill me 
 yet," she cried fretfully, as the young girl en 
 tered. " See, the careless things have scorch 
 ed one of my best handkerchiefs, and the lace 
 and ribbons of my new cap, are not fit to be 
 seen, the way it was put in the box ! It's 
 enough to make one cry with vexation," she 
 added. " And to see you with such vulgar 
 red cheeks ; oh ! Mary, Mary ! you will never 
 make a lady I despair ! "
 
 THE FASHIONABLE PARTY. 165 
 
 " What shall I do for you, mother ? " asked 
 Mary, quietly. 
 
 "Do for me I don't know as anything can be 
 done to suit me. Straighten out those ribbons 
 if the thing is possible. I'm so worried and 
 fretted, that I don't believe I shall be able to 
 be seen to-night, and I so doated on wearing 
 that lilac silk." 
 
 "Trifles to the well, are burdens to the 
 sick," thought Mary, stifling an impatient 
 sigh, but she could not help mentally repeat 
 ing, " and what trifles I " 
 
 " The Colonel says he has invited that low 
 fellow, the new agent," worried Mrs. Leffing- 
 well, sinking down on the couch-pillows, and 
 adjusting the fine ruffles on her sleeves. 
 
 "Low oh! no, mamma; the very farthest 
 from that he is a gentleman, if deport 
 ment and real courtesy make one," replied 
 Mary. 
 
 " But all these religious folks who believe 
 in noisy meetings, and going all lengths in 
 what they call serving Go<J, are generally
 
 166 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 very common people indeed," persisted Mrs. 
 Leffmgwell, annoyed that her daughter gain 
 said her. " He may put on the airs of a gen 
 tleman, but depend upon it, if I feel equal to 
 the exertion, I shall soon make him appear 
 very ignorant and silly. I like to expose all 
 such pretence, and I despise ranters. If peo 
 ple have religion, they should never force its 
 notice obtrusively on other people ; I hate 
 that. Now, I consider Mr. Hanfort a reason 
 able Christian ; he don't carry his views too 
 far. Said he to me, the other night, when I 
 felt equal to a game of whist, ' I'm not a fa 
 natic, madam ; I believe in reasonable enjoy 
 ment. It is excess in these things that makes 
 them sinful.' Now, such a man as that, I can 
 have patience with ; but your religious exclu- 
 sives oh ! dear ! " and her hand was out 
 stretched for the smelling bottle. 
 
 "Mr. Hanfort's children do not show an 
 excess of religious training," said Mary, 
 rather to herself. 
 
 " O ! well, he is unfortunate, to be sure, in
 
 THE FASHIONABLE PARTY. 167 
 
 having a dissipated son and three wild daugh 
 ters ; but there is many a minister of the 
 gospel who has the same trial. I don't think 
 the poor man is to blame, because his children 
 go wrong. I'm sure it's only natural good 
 ness, that has kept you and Merric ; for what 
 have I been able to do towards your bring 
 ing up." 
 
 Mary smiled, involuntarily, as she glanced 
 towards the little lump of silk and muslin, 
 but her heart instantly rebuked her, and bend 
 ing down she kissed her mother's pale brow, 
 feeling that perhaps she had not long to live, 
 and that best of all earthly names was very 
 sweet to her. 
 
 The tune wore on, and by seven the in 
 valid was dressed for the evening, and wheel 
 ed to a conspicuous place near the great chan 
 delier. The grand piano was opened to its 
 utmost extent, lights flashed from room to 
 room, card-tables were spread with their soft 
 green baize covers, and very soon the com 
 pany began to come. Of course the elite of
 
 168 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 Clifton Locks were there, and Guilford had an 
 opportunity to see society in its best phase. 
 He did not come till most of the guests had 
 arrived, and his appearance caused quite a 
 buzz, subdued though it was. His light had 
 not been hid under a bushel consequently as 
 it was neither feeble nor dim, it had been seen 
 far and near, and people took the liberty ot 
 saying what they pleased about it. Some had 
 heard that he was a coarse, eccentric religion 
 ist, who cared not in what he offended ; others 
 that he was plausible, handsome and eloquent, 
 but a man to be feared, for so many such were 
 hypocrites ! All however appeared pleased 
 with his gentlemanly exterior as he entered 
 the room arm in arm with Austin Grande. 
 Introductions took place, and when these for 
 malities were over, Guilford Coit had leisure 
 to look about him, and study human nature. 
 
 Mary Leffingwell appeared to have entrench 
 ed herself behind a haughty reserve, but Mer- 
 ric, the boy with those tender and beautiful 
 eyes that seemed made for heaven, chatted in
 
 THE FASHIONABLE PARTY. Page 181.
 
 THE FASHIONABLE PARTY. 169 
 
 his frank, pleasant way with the new agent ; 
 talked about mill-improvements, the country, 
 the society, and gave him a sketchy history 
 of some of the notabilities present. In the 
 midst of this, Guilford was summoned to the 
 side of the lady of the house. She received 
 him with languid affability, and motioned him 
 to a seat next to her. 
 
 " You see I am a poor invalid," she said, 
 smiling, " but I contrive to make the world 
 contribute to my enjoyment." 
 
 Guilford bowed politely, his eyes scanned 
 the white fleshless arms, the thin blue neck, 
 all flashing with jewels, all adorned with lace, 
 and he could say nothing. 
 
 "How do you like our town, Mr. Coit?" 
 asked Mrs. Leffingwell. 
 
 " So far as I have seen and enjoyed its 
 natural beauties, I think it a superior place, 
 madam," he replied. 
 
 "Yes, we have a few very aristocratic per 
 sons here, very much refined, though not so 
 fashionable of course, as the circles one meets
 
 170 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 in the city, but still they are pleasant, sociable 
 people." 
 
 She was drifting beyond his tide ; position 
 was nothing to him, salvation everything. 
 
 "Have you ever been to Europe?" she 
 asked, languidly. 
 
 "I have enjoyed that pleasure," was his re- 
 
 piy- 
 
 " You have ! " the lady opened her eyes to 
 their widest extent, and lifted herself a little 
 from the luxurious arm-chair. She was not 
 prepared for this answer. Guilford smiled as 
 he thought, " she will fall again presently." 
 
 "Pray when did you go ? " she asked. 
 
 " Many years past, madam ; I went as a 
 sailor before the mast." 
 
 "O!" she sank back again, weary, but 
 placid, and evidently disinclined for further 
 talk. Then he would have risen, but she ex 
 claimed, " don't go, sir, will you not join me 
 in a game of whist? Merric, my love, draw 
 the table up and take out the cards." 
 
 Guilford started as if he had been stung ;
 
 THE FASHIONABLE PARTY. 171 
 
 his brow reddened, but he said resolutely and 
 quietly, 
 
 " Pardon me, madam, I do not play." 
 
 " O ! then you don't know the game," she 
 said, looking curiously towards him, "you 
 don't know the game," she repeated sharply. 
 
 "Yes, madam, I do know the game ; I am 
 I am sorry to say, thoroughly acquainted 
 with cards." 
 
 By this time a little circle had gathered, 
 apparently by accident, but really to witness, 
 as they thought, his discomfiture. 
 
 " What, do you mean me to infer that it is 
 wicked to play an innocent game of cards ? " 
 queried Mrs. Leffingwell, the color tinging 
 her sallow cheeks. 
 
 " I cannot call that innocent which is a snare 
 to the soul ; which has destroyed its tens and 
 hundreds of thousands," he replied still with 
 that shuddering look. " For me to play would 
 be only short of absolute madness, for I have 
 seen those cards reddened with blood. I have 
 seen the gamester throw one despairing glance
 
 172 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 to heaven, and then pull the pistol-trigger at 
 his brains." 
 
 " O ! you shouldn't tell such horrible stories," 
 said Mrs. Leffingwell. 
 
 "I wished you to know in what light I 
 viewed card-playing," replied the young man. 
 " In my. humble judgment, no Christian will 
 touch cards for any purpose of amusement." 
 
 " Then you wouldn't even touch them," said 
 Merric, who had unconsciously dropped the 
 pack he held, on the table-cover. 
 
 " O, yes I would, for one purpose," replied 
 Guilford, smiling. 
 
 " And pray what would that be ? " 
 
 " To put them in the fire," replied the young 
 man. 
 
 "Mr. Hanfort," said Mrs. Leffingwell ap- 
 pealingly, " here's a young man who says a 
 Christian ought not to touch a card ; what do 
 you think of that ! " 
 
 " With one exception, I believe I stated," 
 said Guilford, as the portly gentleman drew 
 nearer the invalid's chair.
 
 THE FASHIONABLE PARTY. 173 
 
 " O ! that wasn't polite," said Mrs. Leffing- 
 well, with the utmost serenity, "and I will 
 not repeat it." 
 
 "Very well, madam," said Guilford, feeling 
 the retort, yet not betraying that he did so. 
 Mr. Hanfort now approached. His man 
 ner betrayed uneasiness, for he was a time- 
 server and he hesitated a moment. 
 
 "Every one has a right to his opinion," at 
 last he said, with a courteous bow. "Mr. 
 Coit might possibly think that no Christian 
 should eat meat, and I might differ from him 
 as I most assuredly do on this question. I 
 never thought it a sin to pass a quiet hour at 
 cards, especially," and he bowed on the other 
 side, " if invited to play by a lady." 
 
 There was a little murmur of approbation ; 
 Guilford felt his unpopularity, but it did 
 not trouble him ; he was still valiant for the 
 right. 
 
 "Well, I like a man to show his colors, 
 any way," said Merric bluntly. 
 
 " My son ! " exclaimed his mother reprov 
 ingly.
 
 174 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 " I am on Merric's side," said Mary Leffing- 
 well to her friend in a low voice. " I can't say 
 I much admire Mr. Coit ; he seems to be such 
 an old young man, but I do admire his con 
 sistency. I don't believe Christians ought to 
 play cards." 
 
 Thereupon arose a little discussion, while as 
 Mr. Hanfort dealt the cards, Guilford, who ' 
 had risen, stood looking with a strangely 
 searching, troubled glance into his face. Sud 
 denly he drew a long breath, went towards 
 the card-playing Christian, touched his hand 
 as he bent down, saying "pardon me, sir, 
 your face suggested a strong likeness. Did 
 you ever know or hear of one Jack Hanfort, 
 a sailor before the mast ? " 
 
 "Did I know him?" a pallor crept from 
 brow to chin as the man turned, the tips of 
 his fingers contracting over the cards. Did 
 you know him ? " 
 
 "Yes, sir, I did," replied Guilford, a strange 
 look in his eyes. 
 
 " And where did you see him last ? " still
 
 THE FASHIONABLE PARTY. 175 
 
 queried the Christian player, as the cards fell 
 one by one, sliding gently on to the table from 
 his now nerveless fingers. 
 
 " At the card-table," whispered Guilford. 
 
 Mr. Hanfort had risen, and seizing the 
 young man's hand with a terrible grasp, he 
 said, "let us go by ourselves," and without a 
 word of apology, he left the invalid's chair. 
 
 "I shall begin to think, as Mr. Grande 
 says, that he charms every body," said Mary 
 Leffingwell ; " there is that very liberal profes 
 sor going off with him. Really it was rather 
 rude in him to leave mamma so ; we must find 
 somebody to play whist with her." 
 
 Nearly half an hour elapsed and Mr. Han- 
 fort was still absent. Presently Guilford 
 came in alone, very pale. Austin Grande, 
 who had volunteered to play was not quite 
 through with the game, but Mrs. Leffingwell 
 pleaded indisposition, and he retired. 
 
 " Guilford," he said, meeting him, M why 
 how white you look, man ! Did you find out 
 who that Jack really was ? What ! his son ?
 
 176 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 And it was he who blew his brains out ? Hor 
 rible ! horrible ! what a lesson ! Where is 
 Mr. Hanfort?" 
 
 " Gone home," said Guilford. 
 
 " I wouldn't let it get round, Mrs. Leffing- 
 well is such an invalid. How dull it has 
 been!" 
 
 " I have thrown the shadow I'm afraid ; peo 
 ple look at me as if I had," said Guilford. 
 
 " You have thrown a shadow deep enough 
 over one man," said Austin, " but then it was 
 not your fault." 
 
 "No, he would hear all," said Guilford, 
 shudderingly ; the two were alone ; they had 
 unconsciously walked along towards the con 
 servatory. " I think I never heard such mis 
 erable self-upbraiding. Austin, I believe I 
 would rather be a thorough out and out un 
 believer, than a half-way Christian, professing 
 to have come from the the world and yet tam 
 pering with its forbidden pleasures . That man 
 may blame himself for the ruin of his boy ; I 
 understand he was an only son."
 
 THE FASHIONABLE PARTY. 177 
 
 w Yes, he was," replied Austin. 
 
 " Poor man, he smote his breast, with the 
 wild cry, ' God be merciful ! ' I did not know 
 as he led me on, that it was of his own son 
 I was telling. It occurred to me some time 
 before that possibly it was a nephew or a 
 cousin, and when I came to that last scene at 
 the card-table, I feared for a moment he would 
 die. He gasped, and his eyes stood out with 
 the violence of his labor for breath . 
 
 " Sir," said he, after a few moments of aw 
 ful agony ; " that was my only boy. I had 
 given him up, long ago, as lost irretrievably, 
 if not dead ; but you have opened the wound 
 afresh. O ! my son, my son ! " 
 
 A moment after he lifted his head, his face 
 had changed, his lips were quivering. 
 
 "I thank you for that rebuke," he said, 
 " accursed cards ! never shall my hands be pol 
 luted with their touch ; oh ! accursed cards ! 
 O ! I have killed my boy ! my boy ! " 
 
 "Well, you may truly say, I am white, 
 after such an ordeal as that. I pitied that
 
 178 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 man as I think I never pitied a human being 
 before. I could not comfort him, for I felt as 
 he did, that he had but himself to blame for the 
 misconduct of his child. I say I could not 
 comfort him. I tried to lead him to the Lord 
 Jesus, and I hope I succeeded in calling his 
 mind somewhat from his distracting sorrow. 
 It would have been a lesson for wordly pro 
 fessors," he added, shaking his head ; " I shall 
 never forget it." 
 
 w Hark ! They are singing," said Austin, 
 a few moments after. 
 
 K Perhaps you had better return," said Guil- 
 ford. I prefer solitude just now, and this dim 
 light suits me." 
 
 Austin, left him. The sad story he had just 
 heard made him unhappy ; he wanted light, 
 mirth, music to dissipate the remembrance. 
 He went into the lighted rooms, where he met 
 the Colonel, who had just come in. 
 
 " Good evening, sir, good evening ! " said 
 the Colonel, heartily ; " well, has our pious 
 chaplain come ? how does he get along ? "
 
 THE FASHIONABLE PAETY. 179 
 
 " O ! father, he's been giving us snch lec 
 tures," said Mary, who overheard the question. 
 " I really didn't know for the moment, but he 
 would turn the party into a prayer-meeting." 
 
 " Ah ! did he begin that way ? Why he's a 
 rough cub, isn't he ? He might at least have 
 waited till some one gave him leave to intro 
 duce his piosities, I think." 
 
 ''He's a right down good fellow, father," 
 said Merric, joining in warmly. w I like him, 
 because he shows just what he is, and isn't 
 ashamed of his religion. It isn't so with Mr. 
 Hanfort, and some others I could mention. 
 They seem to go about with their heads down 
 crying out, 'oh? do please excuse me, for be 
 ing a professor of religion. I ain't very strict. 
 I can still indulge in a few little trifling sins. 
 I won't intrude my sentiments if you'll only 
 tolerate me ; not at all. I'll put on as world- 
 sleek a face as any of you ; you shan't know 
 the difference, upon my word ! ' Pretty Chris 
 tians they are ! " 
 
 " AVell done, Merric, you'll come out a good
 
 180 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 theologian, yourself by-and-by," said his 
 father, joining in the laugh. 
 
 An hour after the Colonel saw his agent in 
 conversation with his wife. He sighed just a 
 little as he thought of her delicate health, and 
 wondered if some of that cant the young dog 
 had, would enable his poor, weak wife, to con 
 trol the petty unamiability that sometimes 
 made the whole household unhappy. 
 
 "But I don't see why you make such broad 
 distinctions," Mrs. Leffingwell was saying, as 
 she pulled nervously at the pendants of a 
 bracelet that hung loosely on her shrunken 
 wrist. 
 
 " For the best reason in the world," said the 
 young man, gently ; and the Colonel was 
 struck with the sweet peace and serenity of 
 the countenance he was watching. " Christ 
 has said, 'Come ye out from among them be 
 ye separate. '" 
 
 " Yes, but if you condemn all these things, 
 dancing among them, what would our young 
 ladies do for exercise," queried Mrs. Leffing 
 well, impatiently.
 
 THE FASHIONABLE PAETY. 181 
 
 Guilford smiled involuntarily; so did the 
 Colonel ; perhaps the same thought occurred to 
 both, that the weakest and most fastidious 
 lady-invalids, whose health would not admit 
 of the least unrefined exercise, who would 
 faint, at the sight of a broom-handle, or blush 
 if thought capable of carrying a bundle ten 
 rods, were not too sickly or too delicate to 
 sit up night after night, dancing, till the small 
 hours, eating ices, being whirled about, drink 
 ing wines, standing in draughts, and bearing 
 headaches next day, with the most unflagging 
 heroism. 
 
 "I think I have heard, that your daughter 
 does not dance," he said quietly. 
 
 " No ; but then she is one of a thousand. 
 Such a queer girl ! all the time out of doors. 
 And would you believe it? she works like a 
 servant, sometimes, in. I never could make 
 her refined never; her cheeks are red as 
 those of a farmer's daughter." 
 
 " But that is the result of exercise, is it not ? 
 and it seems she does not dance enough to
 
 182 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 pale her cheeks, and unstring her nerves. I 
 think she is a living proof of my assertion 
 that there is no need of these relaxing and de 
 bilitating amusements, and Christ knew what 
 was best for the body and purest for the soul, 
 when he condemned them." 
 
 " Still, you religious people are so gloomy, 
 always putting down their faces to the requir 
 ed orthodox length ; always protesting against 
 this thing, because they think it wrong, or 
 that thing, because it does not suit their views. 
 You are great egotists," said the lady, sighing 
 unconsciously. 
 
 " O ! madam, you really wrong us ; the 
 sunniest people I know are those who live 
 nearest to Christ. I grant you that many 
 give themselves unwilling sacrifices ; they are 
 not living up to the exact requirements of 
 Christ's law ; hence they are always under the 
 cloud that hides a sun from them. They know 
 that they do incline to evil ; they are not will 
 ing to give up long indulged thoughts and pet 
 habits, and thus they constantly shroud them-
 
 THE FASI1IOXABLE PARTY. 183 
 
 selves in darkness and are always crying out, 
 ' oh ! my sin, my sin ! ' No wonder it is ever 
 before them ; they keep it there an unclean 
 thing, more foul by being set in the frame of 
 the light of an awakened conscience. Christ 
 says l put away the unclean thing ;' they say, 
 ' let me keep it a little longer, Lord ;' and thus 
 they make themselves perpetual mourners. 
 But to live near Christ, to see all things as 
 it were in the light of his loving look or re 
 proving glance, why, madam, it is kingly; 
 man never feels his greatness without it; 
 the nobility of the stature of the Lord Jesus, 
 for it is His life lived in this human temple. 
 We are Christ's, bought with a price, ransom 
 ed with a ransom as far above absolute human 
 comprehension, as the stars without to-night 
 are higher than the flames of these lamps about 
 us. You say Christians are always protesting 
 against what does not suit their views. Par 
 don me, madam, no real Christian would pre 
 sume so far ; they protest only against what is 
 contrary to the revealed law of God, either as
 
 184 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 seen by its invariable results, or as condemn 
 ed by the language of the Bible." 
 
 " Upon my word, we are having a sermon," 
 said the Colonel, "but the man talks well/' 
 
 Perhaps it would not be too much to say 
 that the Colonel's wife had never thought so 
 long upon a subject, of such vast importance, 
 in all the days of her life, as in these few brief 
 moments. 
 
 " But to become thi s Christian that you 
 speak of, one must give up everything," she 
 said ruefully. 
 
 " Yes, madam, you are right there ; one 
 must give up everything," he spoke with 
 solemn emphasis. 
 
 " Property, friends, even husband, wife and 
 children," exclaimed the lady with some as 
 perity. 
 
 "Yes, in a certain sense even these must be 
 renounced. But think whom we give them 
 for, to whom we give them ! God, who al 
 ready holds the balance of their fortunes and 
 of their lives. They are no less yours be-
 
 THE FASHIONABLE PAR1T. 185 
 
 cause they are Christ's, they are no more 
 yours because you withhold them. It is sweet 
 er to receive everything from Him ; sweeter 
 to acknowledge our indebtedness than if we 
 felt, ourselves monarchs of our fate. But then 
 this is something only His children can feel." 
 He lifted his eyes and caught the absorbed, 
 almost fascinated gaze of Merric Leffingwell. 
 The boy stood leaning against a column, his 
 arms folded, his head thrown back, while the 
 mild beautiful radiance of his soft eyes had 
 changed to an intense throbbing light. For a 
 moment the two stood riveted, each as it 
 were sounding the soul of the other ; then a 
 slow, sweet smile crept around Guilford's 
 lips, trembled up to the serene eyes, the fine 
 brow; and Merric, first smiling, pressed 
 a pair of quivering lips together and turned 
 away in tears. Guilford almost shivered as 
 an overwhelming thought took possession of 
 his mind : "that dear boy is under the influence 
 of the Spirit of God." He was recalled from 
 the rapt and solemn joy of the moment by a 
 sharp voice.
 
 186 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 w It all sounds very well, but I can't see 
 into it." 
 
 "No. It belongeth only to those whom 
 Christ enlightens," said Guilford. 
 
 "Who does he enlighten, pray?" queried 
 the invalid. 
 
 "Any all who ask for enlightenment," 
 responded the young man. 
 
 " O ! " Mrs. Leffingwell placed her hand on 
 her side, and her cold, gray eyes glittered. 
 w I feel quite ill ; pray call for Mary Mer- 
 ric " she sank back, white with sudden pain. 
 Her children and her husband were instantly 
 at her side \ the chair was wheeled into 
 another room, and all amusement was for 
 saken except card-playing. Those who were 
 sitting at the table only turned curious faces, 
 cried " what is it," dealing, or throwing a card 
 down as they spoke ; then rapt and forgetful 
 they kept on, never heeding or caring for an 
 answer to their question. Not long after, 
 while Guilford was speaking to Austin with 
 reference to returning, the Colonel came to-
 
 THE FASHIONABLE PARTY. 187 
 
 wards them, with the double announcement 
 that Mrs. Leffingwell was much better, and 
 that supper was ready. 
 
 "I believe I will not go in to supper," said 
 Guilford, aside to Austin. 
 
 " O ! now, don't carry your good works too 
 far," said Austin, lightly; "you have made 
 rather a favorable impression in spite of your 
 rigidity. I beg you'll go just in and taste, for 
 the sake of the looks of the thing." 
 
 Guilford persuaded himself to be over 
 ruled, though he rightly questioned the pro 
 priety of these late feasts, and the gay com 
 pany were soon assembled, where ices, cakes 
 and fruits were dealt round with liberal hands. 
 Then came the wine. The Colonel looked 
 warily round, as he passed the red glasses ; 
 and Guilford shuddered, as he saw them 
 pressed to lips as ruby. 
 
 "You take wine, Mr. Coit," said Merric, 
 holding forth a brimming glass. 
 
 " No. I never take wine," was the quiet 
 reply. Merric put his glass down.
 
 188 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 "He takes it on the sly, or when he is 
 sick," said Austin banteringly. 
 
 "I never take it," rejoined Guilford. "I 
 have not touched wine, since to save a fellow 
 sailor, I put my signature to the pledge, four 
 teen years ago. 
 
 " But you would take it, were you sick," 
 said some one. 
 
 " Not consciously," replied Guilford. w I 
 was very sick on my return passage, and the 
 captain mixed brandy for me several times, 
 but I could not take it. Finally at the worst, 
 on my .refusing it, the captain cried with a 
 great oath, ' then let him die ! ' But I didn't 
 die ; and I didn't drink the brandy, either," he 
 added, smiling towards Merric. 
 
 " Then, I suppose you think it's wicked for 
 sick people ever to touch wine," said Austin, 
 sipping the lemonade he held, (he never drank 
 wine) , and pretending to be much exhilarated 
 thereon. Guilford's look said, " you know me 
 better than that ;" his lips replied, r I am no 
 physician, and have no right to judge in any 
 case but my own."
 
 THE FASHIONABLE PARTY. 189 
 
 M Merric, my son, don't you keep us com 
 pany, to-night?" queried the Colonel. The 
 boy had not touched the glass. 
 
 "Thank you, father; but I believe I had 
 rather not." The fair cheek reddened as he 
 spoke, but there was something like a frown 
 on the Colonel's brow. Perhaps a thought 
 marred his serenity, thus : "that fanatic thinks 
 he is going to have the rule here. He is mis 
 taken."
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 HAGER AT PRAYER AND WHAT HER FATHER 
 THOUGHT ABOUT IT. 
 
 k ULDA stole to the door of her child's 
 room. She had noticed the regularity 
 with which after her noon-day meals Hager 
 had retired silently to her chamber. So 
 noiselessly the mild-faced woman tripped up 
 the stairs, equipped as she was wont to be, 
 towel on arm, cap-strings tied carefully be 
 hind her neck, sleeves neatly turned and fas 
 tened up, displaying a still plump arm. 
 
 A pretty little place it was in which she 
 peeped, wee, white and tidy. A small bed 
 under dimity curtains, a few low chairs, a 
 bunch of flowers on the table, a Bible and a 
 little show of token-books carefully treasured. 
 The door was shut, but like nearly all the 
 rest, half of it was paned with glass, so that
 
 HAOAB AT PRAYEK. 191 
 
 by removing the little curtain carefully the 
 mother saw what? 
 
 Hager with saintly face upturned, hands 
 clasped ever the bed coverlet, with closed 
 eyes, praying. 
 
 Like a flood the tears rushed to the moth 
 er's lids and would not be restrained. Down 
 they rolled thicker and faster and up from the 
 burdened heart came sobs hard to be conquer 
 ed ; but time was precious and labor called. 
 She turned away, confronting her husband 
 who was just coming up the stairs. 
 
 What's the matter? " he asked. 
 
 What impulse was upon her that she should 
 silently lift the curtain ; silently point within. 
 
 He saw, moved away with a frown and a 
 muttered oath. 
 
 " I'll tell you what, wife," he said as he 
 reached the foot of the stairs, and turning 
 sharply round confronted her, "that Coit 
 leaves my house before I'm a week older ; " a 
 quiver of passion ran through his voice. w My 
 Hager is Saint by name, but she shan't be a
 
 192 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 saint by nature if I can help it. I've noticed 
 the girl lately. She isn't a bit as she used to 
 be, flying about with her pretty, loving ways, 
 and singing voice, and laughing from morning 
 till night. I want none of your pale, long 
 faces about me, and I'll break this up, now, I 
 tell you." 
 
 "Hush, father," said Hulda, warningly, 
 for a light step was heard coming. Presently 
 Hager's arms were about her mother's neck. 
 
 w O, mother ! mother !" she murmured, and 
 the very tones were melody. 
 
 " What is it darling? " queried Hulda. 
 
 " O ! mother, I'm so happy ! " 
 
 She turned to her father, her sweet face 
 was shining, it seemed almost as if a holy 
 flame were flickering upon it, a little way off. 
 
 w O ! father, dear father, dear father ! " she 
 cried almost passionately. 
 
 The evil spirit came out of him at her 
 yearning glance ; he held his arms open and 
 she sprang upon his bosom. Strange emo 
 tions penetrated his heart. He seemed to
 
 HAGAR AT PRAYER. 193 
 
 be folding something purer, brighter than be 
 longed to him. He could not bear to release 
 her. 
 
 " You're going to the mill, now, dear," he 
 said as she slid gently out of his clasp. 
 
 " Yes, father, good-bye ; good-bye mother.'* 
 
 " Good-bye little Toddles ; good-bye, dar 
 ling," murmured Tristam, watching her as she 
 bounded away. 
 
 " I'm wondering," murmured Hulda with a 
 slow voice, and slower words, as she turned 
 away, " why the child said good-bye ; she 
 never did before." 
 
 "Let me see; Hager's sixteen, nigh," pon 
 dered Tristam, throwing himself into the 
 kitchen arm-chair, while his wife went 
 busily to work. 
 
 "No, father! not these two months yet,'* 
 responded Hulda Saint ; she was thinking so 
 reverently of that sweet vision she had seen 
 up-stairs. 
 
 " O ! dear. I hope she never'll think of get 
 ting married," said Tristam 'with a sigh.
 
 194 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 " We've got enough to keep her all her life." 
 
 "That's a selfish wish, Tristam," responded 
 Hulda ; yet the momentary thought shadowed 
 her face too. "Poor child! we little know 
 what her future is to be ; and I'm glad " here 
 she stopped abruptly, casting a side glance at 
 Tristam. 
 
 " Well, what are you glad of ? " 
 
 "That I saw her on her knees up-stairs," 
 said Hulda, stoutly; "she'll get strength, 
 there!" 
 
 " Fudge ! " muttered Tristam, kicking the 
 cat crouching at his feet, which, after a stare 
 of unmitigated astonishment, and a vigorous 
 shake, came back again. 
 
 "Did she ask you anything. I mean, has 
 she asked you anything, lately?" inquired 
 Hulda, making a great noise with the km'ves, 
 as she gathered them up. 
 
 w Yes, she has ; and you put it into her head, 
 I suppose," was the reply. 
 
 " O ! no, father. I never thought of it, till 
 she came to me about it. It seems to be her 
 notion, entirely.
 
 HAGAK AT PRAYER. 195 
 
 "Then she spoke to you?" 
 w Yes, she spoke to me first ; it was natural, 
 you know ; and I told her to come to you. I 
 
 hope you wasn't harsh about it, father." 
 
 " I just give her a flat no ; that was all, and 
 told her not to ask me again ; and she wont in 
 a hurry, I guess." 
 
 " Poor child ! she seemed so set upon it. 
 I dreamed about it last night ; now I think " 
 Hulda paused and stood reflective over the 
 table. " Yes, it conies to me ; I thought I felt 
 dreadfully about it ; about your not wishing it, 
 you know, and she hurried to me. Yes, I re 
 member the same expression on her face, that 
 I saw to-day ; the very same. She was dress 
 ed in white, pure beautiful white, and says 
 she, "mother dear, I wouldn't grieve wait 
 patiently ; the next time I ask him, he'll say 
 "yes." 
 
 "No, I wont," muttered Tristam, doggedly, 
 
 "I'll have no such goings on here, turning 
 
 a tavern into Sunday-school, prayer-meeting, 
 
 and what not. It all comes of that pious
 
 196 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 Goby number two," he added crossly, rising 
 and walking about. "I wish I'd said no to 
 him at the very first. You wouldn't catch the 
 Colonel putting up with his airs ; he'd have to 
 keep a close mouth in his presence, I tell you. 
 Colonel wont bear such things." 
 
 " But I hear he talked right out at the grand 
 party the Colonel give. They say he carries 
 his religion wherever he goes." 
 
 "Hanged if he shan't carry it from here, 
 then," spoke up Tristam. "He's poisoned 
 Hager's mind, and now, I suppose, he wants 
 to try on ours." 
 
 " O ! Tristam, think of her face ! " 
 
 " Pshaw ! all excitement and fanaticism. 
 I'll see if I can't root it out, too." 
 
 "Take care, take care, Tristam," responded 
 his wife. 
 
 "I say I'll have an end of it." 
 
 " Tristam, Tristam, think of the Bible, man ; 
 'he that being often reproved, hardeneth his 
 neck, shall be suddenly destroyed, and that 
 without remedy.' "
 
 HAGEE AT PKAYEE. 197 
 
 " I'll risk it ! " cried Tristam, in a loud, de 
 fiant voice. " I'll risk it," he repeated, with 
 almost demoniac fierceness. "Hager's mine. 
 I wont give her up even to God ! " 
 
 At that moment, that very second of time, 
 it might have been, came the doom he dared.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 A MYSTEEIOUS DISPENSATION. 
 
 fT was a warm, autumn afternoon. Very 
 cheerily the birds sang in the old maples 
 outside the mill, till the noon-hush came, but 
 even after that, when the little creatures, in 
 more quiet places were silent, the clash and 
 clatter of machinery induced the mill birds to 
 unwonted exertions. 
 
 "Isn't it a sweet afternoon?" Hasn't it 
 been a beautiful day ? " 
 
 This Hager queried, resting a moment from 
 her work, and looking over from the open 
 window upon the slumbrous hills covered with 
 purple brown haze. 
 
 " I wonder if this earth isn't something; like 
 
 o 
 
 heaven ! It seems as if it must be, some 
 times." 
 
 198
 
 A MYSTERIOUS DISPENSATION. 199 
 
 " Hager, what makes you talk of heaven so 
 much, lately?" asked Sarah Church, looking 
 seriously into the soft eyes of the child. 
 
 " I don't know, without it's because, I think 
 of it a great deal. O ! Sarah," she cried 
 quickly, eagerly, "I don't know what it is, 
 this happiness ; I never had it before ; not 
 even when I have thought I was as happy as I 
 could be. Sarah " she drew near her friend 
 blushing,trembling, yet unwontedly animated ; 
 " I think it's the praying. Do you go and 
 pray every day all alone by yourself, and 
 you'll find out what it is. I can't explain it, 
 but Mr. Coit can." 
 
 Sarah had stood spell-bound, looking pale 
 and sideways at the child, for was there not 
 something in that dear face that had never 
 been there before ? something that made her 
 heart shudder as well as glow ? 
 
 She came slowly out of the spell, saying, 
 softly, " I know, darling, prayer is everything^ 
 for when I have been in a great strait, if I 
 prayed, there came an answer. But oh !
 
 200 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 Hager, when all is quiet again, how soon we 
 forget?" 
 
 " It don't seem as if I could forget," spoke 
 Hager, and an inward smile brightened her 
 sweet face. " Why, I'll tell you how it is," 
 she said, after some moments of deep 
 thought. w There isn't the least fear now. 
 I don't know why, but I always was a fright 
 ened thing. Mother knew it, and pitied me, 
 and always left me a lamp of nights, because 
 if I locked the door ever so tight, still 
 there was a something that I was afraid of, 
 unless the lamp burned. Well, last night and 
 the night before, I knew I didn't need the 
 lamp. I put it out, and someway felt a pleas 
 ure in the darkness, for I was sure I was not 
 alone. Just think ! for years and years I 
 havn't done that ; there must be something in 
 it, you see, it takes away all fear." 
 
 "I've heard so," said Sarah thoughtfully, 
 seemingly fully conscious what the word ' it' 
 interpreted. 
 
 "Then there's another fear I had," Hasrer 
 
 * o
 
 A MYSTERIOUS DISPENSATION. 201 
 
 murmured, going on quietly with her work ; 
 " and that was of death. I never saw any 
 body die ; I never heard much about it. But 
 there it was, like a shadow that follows one 
 all the time ; you know it may be so near. 
 Well, it don't trouble me now," she looked up 
 with such a sunny smile ; " it's all gone, the 
 fear is all gone ; isn't it wonderful ? " 
 
 " Wonderful, indeed ! " thought Sarah, but 
 she did not speak, and her mental answer 
 had reference more to Hager's countenance ; 
 the tenfold enhanced beauty of her winning 
 words and ways. 
 
 " I never would have thought of talking of 
 such things before, even to mother," Hager 
 Avent on "but something makes me wish, 
 this afternoon, that everybody knew what 
 this happiness is I " 
 
 Sarah was still silent, and thoughtful. She 
 had heard oftentimes, how the Spirit of God 
 dealt with the human heart, and it seemed as 
 if a messenger had been sent to her in accor 
 dance with the Divine purpose, to lead her in 
 the way the young disciple had found.
 
 202 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 It happened that she left her work early 
 that afternoon, as she was to go to the next 
 village for her father. 
 
 She kissed Ilager as she went, and linger 
 ing, she knew not why, went very slowly 
 down the stairs, her mind still excited by 
 what she had heard from the lips of little 
 Hager. As she passed the office of the agent, 
 Guilford was just coming towards the door. 
 He smiled as they met, and held out his hand 
 in his usual frank, kindly way. 
 
 " Well, what news from home ? " he asked. 
 
 " Almost the best," was her reply. " Father 
 is getting on bravely. You should have seen 
 him when the new set of tools came this 
 morning." 
 
 "Pleased, was he?" responded Guilford. 
 
 "As a child. He went to work immedi 
 ately, and I fear I shall find him utterly ex 
 hausted, he is so excitable ! such an en 
 thusiast ! " 
 
 " He wants the strength of Christ, for bal 
 last," said Guilford. "Perhaps that thought
 
 A MYSTERIOUS DISPENSATION. 203 
 
 was in your mind, when you said concerning 
 the home-news, ' almost the best.' " 
 
 She smiled thoughtfully. "It certainly 
 Avas," was the reply; "or something very 
 like." 
 
 There was a strange sound above stairs. 
 They both remarked it, but thought it noth 
 ing unusual, and Sarah went on. Why she 
 lingered, once outside the mill door, she could 
 not tell. Her business required haste, but 
 she fell suddenly in a bewildered state, that 
 held her footsteps unaccountably. 
 
 Presently there was a voice : it called her 
 name. She looked back. A trembling, hag 
 gard figure stood in the door-way its eyes 
 blank, its lips ashen. 
 
 " O ! Sarah, Sarah Church ! you can't tell 
 what's happened ! " issued from the quivering 
 mouth. 
 
 " What has happened ? " Sarah stood still 
 in amaze, feeling as if the whole world had 
 suddenly grown dark. 
 
 " O ! Sarah Church," the voice was almost
 
 204 THE HELL AGENT. 
 
 drowned in tears " it's awful ! That dear 
 little Hager Hager " 
 
 Sarah paused no longer. Dashing through 
 the door-way, she hurried up the stairs at a 
 frantic speed. The mill was as still as death ; 
 all the wondrous wheels had ceased vibrating ; 
 how was it with the little wheel of the more 
 wonderful machinery of Hager Saint's sweet 
 life. Sarah's heart beat with deadly strokes 
 as she thought of this, and pushed on through 
 throngs of horror-stricken operatives, on to 
 the principal crowd where she knew the 
 question would be solved. 
 
 The dear child ! the patient child, there she 
 lay needless to tell how, in the arms of Guil- 
 ford Coit not gone yet; but, some gasped 
 with hot tears, how much better if it were so. 
 Her eyes, unnaturally large, were fastened on 
 his face. The white, beaded drops of an 
 guish stood on her forehead dear sufferer I 
 patient lamb ! 
 
 " How did it happen ? " oh, tell me ! " whis 
 pered Sarah, pressing her hands with a clasp 
 like locked marble over her heart.
 
 A MYSTERIOUS DISPENSATION. 205 
 
 K We don't know, except that we saw her 
 drawn under the shaft," said an elderly wo 
 man who stood near. They were just stopping 
 the machinery, or " she shuddered and turn 
 ed away. 
 
 "Who who will tell her father?" whisper 
 ed Sarah Church. 
 
 w As soon as they get something made to 
 carry her on, you see they are at work, word 
 will be sent at once. Who will go I know 
 not, unless it is the agent ; I would n't for 
 the world." 
 
 Sarah felt her heart sink. The utter deso 
 lation of that household swept like a wave 
 over her being. Tristam Saint's love for his 
 child was a household proverb : w as much as 
 Tristam Saint loves little Hager." 
 
 For " little Hager " she had always been, and 
 to those who knew her always would be. 
 Her blue, laughing eyes and innocent face, 
 scarcely changed as did her stature and from 
 being such a pet at home, all her ways were 
 winning and child-like.
 
 206 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 " The bed was made of soft wool and cot 
 ton, and Guilford decided that he would pre 
 cede the sad burden and tell the sorrowful 
 news as best be could. But when he started 
 from her side, she evinced great agitation, and 
 the falling tears and yearning glance told that 
 she wanted his presence in her suffering. 
 
 Seeing this, Guilford Coit looked around 
 him. "Who will go?" he asked, and his 
 eye fell on Sarah. For a moment a coldness 
 like death came over her, but remembering 
 little Hager's own simple words, she prayed, 
 and then with a mournful firmness she said, 
 "I will go." 
 
 She turned silently and left the room, 
 hearing behind her the slow tramp of those 
 who were bearing the sorrowful burden. All 
 the way she heard, or seemed to hear, that 
 deep measuring of footsteps. Hager's moth 
 er stood out on the porch, white with her sud 
 den fear, for afar off she had seen a sight un 
 usual in that quiet place, and without speak 
 ing to her husband, who was taking his nap
 
 A MYSTERIOUS DISPENSATION. 207 
 
 in the bar-room, she came out to inquire what 
 it meant. The face of Sarah Church smote her 
 with yet a sharper dread ; all her mother's 
 fears were roused. 
 
 "Sarah, what has happened? How you 
 look ! Something has frightened you is it 
 Mr. Coit; is he hurt? or Mr. Grande, Sarah?" 
 she sobbed falteringly, catching at both shoul 
 ders as the young girl stood before her. " Is 
 it "a great gasp came, but not the word. 
 
 " O, Mrs. Saint you will be calm," trembled 
 Sarah. " Hager is hurt, we don't know how 
 much. The doctor is coming with them ; is 
 there a bed ready ? " 
 
 " Hager ? Hager hurt ? a bed ready ? " mut 
 tered the woman vaguely, turning from side 
 to side, trembling all over like a frail leaf 
 shaken in the gale. What will Tristam say? 
 Don't tell Tristam," she pleaded, not moving, 
 however ; the news seemed to have rooted her 
 to the spot. 
 
 "No, but dear Mrs. Saint, shall I go in? 
 they are almost here, and there must be a bed 
 ready."
 
 208 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 " There are beds all over the house," sobbed 
 Hulda, her lips growing white while she held 
 out her clasped hands in an attitude of dumb, 
 deep agony. " O ! Sarah, Sarah ! what will 
 Tristam say? 
 
 The men had drawn quite near, and Mrs. 
 Saint flew towards the pale burden they bore, 
 for Hager was quite insensible now. The 
 noise they made awoke the tavern-keeper who 
 came to the door in the jolliest of moods, a 
 broad smile on his face, for he expected cus 
 tomers from the lower village. It was awful 
 to see the instantaneous change from a hilarous 
 mirth to a ghastly wonder. His large frame 
 fell back instantly against the house, then 
 with a sudden bound he cleared the portico, 
 pushed, regardless of persons, one and another 
 from between him and that white face, and 
 with a groan like a yell, he fell on his knees 
 at the side of his child. 
 
 "Don't you dare to tell me thafr you've killed 
 her, any of you," he shrieked out almost 
 savagely.
 
 A MYSTERIOUS IENS-ON. 209 
 
 "She must be carried in the house im 
 mediately," said Guilford Coit, in a calm low 
 
 4 
 
 voice. 
 
 " You have done it ; you have brought evil 
 on my house," growled the half crazy man, as 
 he encountered the eye of Guilford. 
 
 " Everything depends upon expedition now," 
 said the agent, resolutely ; " lead the way, 
 mother," he added gently to the half fainting 
 woman, who stood there powerless, as Guil 
 ford took the slender form in his arms. 
 
 Tristain seemed now beginning to compre 
 hend. The great drops of sweat started to 
 his brow ; he clenched his hands and groaned 
 in the bitterness of his spirit, as he passively fol 
 lowed Guilford, who deposited his burden on 
 her mother's bed. Tristam walked the ad 
 joining room, uttering fearfully spasmodic 
 groans. Hager, his idol, bruised, broken, 
 dying perhaps. 
 
 " O ! doctor," he cried, clinging to the latter 
 as he passed him, "she's gone, isn't she? 
 dead, isn't she? Tell me, doctor, tell me the 
 worst."
 
 ^THE 
 
 210 THK MILL ACJKNT. 
 
 O 
 
 " She is still living," said the young phy 
 sician. 
 
 " But dying she will never speak to me ; 
 never know me ; oh ! doctor, doctor, don't tell 
 me that." 
 
 "It is impossible for me to say," replied the 
 doctor. " She must be kept perfectly quiet ; 
 much depends upon that. Do not distress her 
 by your sorrow, if she comes out of this fit." 
 
 " If she comes out of it !" cried Tristam, 
 wringing his hands, and a great burst of an 
 guish followed, mingled with terrible im 
 precations. 
 
 ft
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 ** -- " : 
 
 GRANDE THE DOUBTER. 
 
 INGE the night of the party at Eose 
 Hedge, Mrs. Leffingwell had twice sent 
 for Guilford. The impression made upon her 
 mind at that time, appeared to be slowly but 
 steadily deepening. Mary, seeing how her 
 mother's attention seemed more abstracted 
 from the things of the world, grew even more 
 gentle and willing ; and when she was request 
 ed to read from the holy Scripture, did so 
 with a voice and manner proving that in her 
 heart there were indications of a need, such 
 as nothing in the world could meet. She 
 however struggled mightily against such con 
 victions, inasmuch as they showed to her the 
 unsatisfying nature of earthly enjoyments, 
 which she could jiot yet resign. Guilford's 
 Sabbath days (and two had gone since the
 
 212 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 terrible accident happened to Hager), were 
 passed almost wholly in her sick room. If 
 Guilford could only soothe, sit by her, and 
 hold her hand, Hager seemed unwontedly 
 happy. The tears of pain were withheld, and 
 smiles, calm and holy, took their place. If 
 he read to her, modulating his voice to slow, 
 low music, her eyes sparkled with an almost 
 heavenly light. She did not seem to require 
 his care when she knew that he was employed 
 at the mill, but for the hour of its close she 
 looked with longing eyes, and her face grew 
 radiant when he appeared. Sometimes Aus 
 tin Grande sat in the room with him. It was 
 a large, cheerful apartment, fragrant in sum 
 mer with the scent of sweet-briar and helio 
 trope, that came in from the little garden, 
 which had been Hager's special care. 
 
 The child had only been moved by loving 
 hands since the accident ; she could not help 
 herself. It was touching to see the unearthly 
 resignation with which she bore her misfor 
 tune.
 
 GRAXDE T1IE DOUBTER. 213 
 
 w If anything would convince me of the 
 reality of religion," said Austin, one Sabbath 
 morning, when Hager had fallen into a re 
 freshing sleep, "it would be the state of that 
 child. Her very face speaks of peace ; but 
 then she was always a gentle and happy crea 
 ture. There are some natures that are mir 
 acles to us from the cradle to the grave. I 
 think hers is one ; for, during the three years 
 I have lived here, I never saw her otherwise 
 than as she is now." 
 
 "But is it nature," asked Guilford "that 
 teaches her that wonderful resignation to 
 God's will ? Have you ever heard one word 
 of repining because she was cut down in an 
 untimely moment, and laid upon a bed of al 
 most unremitting torture ? Think of it, Aus 
 tin; a young creature hardly yet sixteen, 
 capable of such exquisite enjoyment ; willing 
 to drink the cup of suffering and death ; and 
 not only willing, but rejoicing that she is 
 going to die." 
 
 Austin was silent for a moment. Then he 
 spoke again,
 
 214 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 w She knows the wish for life is unavailing, 
 and that soon she will be free from pain and 
 trouble. I tell you, Guilford Coit, that were 
 I lying where she is, the prospect of release 
 from all suffering so near, I think I should be 
 
 as willing to go as she is." 
 
 " But would you have the same faith, the 
 same sublime hope ? Could you exclaim with 
 her, 'I know that my Redeemer liveth?'" ask 
 ed Guilford. 
 
 "No," replied Austin, severely, "simply 
 because I do not know. Women and children 
 are easy to be entreated. They will believe 
 in the merest vagaries, the most absurd 
 chimeras," was the reply. 
 
 " Then you class the hope of immortality, 
 the glorious belief of a holy existence be 
 yond the narrow boundary of death, among 
 c himeras ; the faith that transforms the sen 
 sualist into the pure and devout believer, the 
 trust in God through our Lord Jesus Christ, 
 among mere vagaries. Language cannot tell 
 how sincerely I pity you," said Guilford, and 
 lip and voice trembled.
 
 GRANDE THE DOUBTER. 215 
 
 w I do ; I think them all the veriest delu 
 sions," Austin exclaimed, his brow growing 
 dark. "They are beautiful while they last, 
 no doubt, though they make a man a thorough 
 egotist, but as I see them I can find no foun 
 dation to stand upon. A say so, will not do 
 for me, and no one ever came back to prove 
 the spirit's immortality." 
 
 " Except the Saviour of men," said Guilford, 
 pained to his heart. 
 
 " Ah ! that, too, is a, ' they say,' " replied 
 Austin, gloomily. 
 
 " Thank God that it was ever recorded ! " 
 exclaimed Guilford with Christian fervor. 
 
 Suddenly there was a voice spoke, clear, 
 sad and solemn. 
 
 "O! Mr. Grande, do believe in Jesus." 
 The plaintive, tearful tones startled them both, 
 and turning they saw Hager's face, pale to a 
 deathly whiteness with emotion. 
 
 "Why should I, child, why should I?" the 
 young man asked, hurriedly going towards 
 the bed.
 
 216 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 w Because there is nothing else worthy to be 
 loved," spoke the suffering girl. " Oh ! if I 
 could only tell you how beautiful He is ! " she 
 reiterated, with holy rapture. " While I lie 
 here, I think and wonder if anything can be 
 compared to Him. I think of the sun, the 
 stars, the glorious mountains, the flowers, the 
 love of my father and mother, but they are all 
 as nothing to Him ; all as nothing," she mur 
 mured reverently. " To see Him, to be with 
 Him, is worth all this pain. I wish you knew 
 how glorious He is." 
 
 " I am perfectly willing to believe as you do, 
 little Hager, if I only could." 
 
 " O ! you can ! f with the heart man believ- 
 eth unto salvation,' with the heart, Mr. Grande. 
 If you would only pray as I did, pray till it 
 comes," she said. 
 
 w Till what comes ? " queried Austin. 
 
 "Believing; it's all in believing," said Ha 
 ger, smiling upon him. 
 
 Hager's father was below stairs much of 
 his time. He could not endure the sick
 
 GRANDE THE DOUBTER. 217 
 
 chamber of his child, nor understand why she 
 had been thus smitten and afflicted. He could 
 not, or rather,would not be reconciled, nor call 
 it the will of God. He charged the Deity with 
 revenge and mocked Him in his desolation. 
 He hardened his own heart, and even the 
 gentle pleadings of his idolized child had ap 
 parently but little effect upon his unhappy 
 mood. 
 
 " What has she done, that God should af 
 flict her so ? " was his fierce query. w Why 
 did he choose Hager from among all the rest ? 
 Other people had three and four children 
 there, and they were all spared. Say what 
 you will, it was cruel, it was vindictive. I 
 never will think otherwise." 
 
 With his mind his body seemed to suffer 
 correspondingly. From the sleek, portly 
 landlord, he had come to be the thin, white- 
 lipped, sunken-cheeked misanthrope. One 
 would scarcely have recognised him, as he 
 stood there on the Sunday in which the two 
 young men sat with Hager, leaning against
 
 218 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 one of the portico-posts, his attitude, that of 
 a man in despair. In this position the stately 
 Colonel found him. 
 
 " Well, Saint," said the latter, reining in his 
 powerful horse, " you're looking bad, man ; 
 you need exercise ; you're fretting yourself to 
 death. We must all have our troubles, you 
 know, and it wont do to let them wear 
 upon us." 
 
 " If it was an ordinary trouble, I could bear 
 it," muttered the landlord, hanging his head. 
 
 " It's a bad case, no two ways about that," 
 said the Colonel. " But then there's a skeleton 
 in every man's house. Look at me ; no know 
 ing when my poor wife will go. Where's 
 Coit?" 
 
 "He's up stairs with Hager. He's a great 
 comfort to the child." 
 
 "Yes, yes, he's got the faculty. Magnet 
 ism, I suppose it is, or some other charm. 
 Takes with women, especially if they're 
 weakly, with a rush. Here's my wife sent 
 me down after him ; wants to talk about reli-
 
 GRANDE THE DOUBTER. 219 
 
 gion, as people generally do in that state ; may 
 want to myself. But hang it, what's come 
 over the town, Saint? the old place isn't like 
 itself. Used to be cheerful, but it's dull as 
 death, now. How is Hager?" 
 
 tf Very bad, Colonel," and tears rushed into 
 Tristam's eyes. 
 
 " Not hopeless, I trust." 
 
 " Yes, hopeless. O ! if I had only died be 
 fore this come." 
 
 The pathos, the real anguish in the voice, 
 made the Colonel turn his head away, sud 
 denly. 
 
 " Well, after all, Saint, it's a hard sort of an 
 old world, ain't it? Used to look pretty 
 bright to me, too, and does now, sometimes ; 
 but in comes misfortune, or sickness, or death, 
 and sets us adrift. Look here, where is Coit? 
 I ought to be in a hurry ? " 
 
 "He is up-stairs ; I will call him." 
 
 Guilford made his appearance in a mo 
 ment. 
 
 "Take Grande and go up town, will you? 
 My wife wants to see you," said the Colonel.
 
 220 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 " Is she ill, again ? " queried Guilford. 
 
 "No worse than usual," was the reply; 
 " good morning, Mr. Coit. Don't let her talk 
 more than half an hour." 
 
 Guilford left Hager with some reluctance, 
 but her mother sat, her face assumedly cheer 
 ful, in his place ; and Austin and the agent 
 took their way towards Rose-Hedge. 
 
 " What a beautiful morning ! " said Guil 
 ford. 
 
 " To you, I dare say," responded Austin. 
 
 " And it would be to you, if only oh ! my 
 friend, why will you stay in the dark? Why 
 not come out in God's glorious light ? " 
 
 "I don't see any light," was the reply. 
 
 "Austin, where are you?" Guilford stop 
 ped in his walk. 
 
 " In doubting Castle," replied Austin, smil 
 ing gloomily. 
 
 " Why don't you come out ? " 
 
 " A giant guards the door," was the reply. 
 
 " God is greater than the giant Unbelief," 
 responded Guilford.
 
 GRANDE THE DOUBTER. 221 
 
 * I don't know Him," was the reckless an 
 swer. 
 
 They were nearing the door of the work 
 house. Three decrepid men, and a few 
 women, were gathered in a group on the front 
 porch. Here and there a child stood, or 
 played with the flowers that grew wild. 
 
 In their midst sat the old man Goldby, 
 reading aloud, and that so intently, that he 
 did not see his friend. The distant corn fields, 
 the pretty farm houses, the hills in magnificent 
 reaches, swelling against the horizon, and the 
 white-headed old man, bending over the holy 
 book, made a picture that lacked not beauty, 
 aided as it was by the spirituality of the good 
 Christian's countenance. 
 
 w Yes, Jesus came to save that which was 
 lost," repeated the aged reader, looking with 
 a loving smile over his little band of lame 
 and halt and blind. "Temptations, trials, 
 and sorrows, ought not to overcome us, 
 while we have a prince who gave his life 
 for us, sitting forever at the right hand of
 
 222 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 God. How pleasant it will be, Jiin Lane, 
 when you get ready to go, to throw away the 
 old crutch, and walk with the light step of a 
 young man, again, over the golden streets of 
 the New Jerusalem. And you, Betsy Gray, 
 who cannot see the glories of even this poor 
 earth, how will your new eyes be dazzled by 
 the splendor of the throne, and the glory of 
 the wonders of that beautiful home? You 
 too, Elizabeth Eaton, whose poor body is 
 racked with pain from daylight to twilight) 
 you shall rest there, and never shall you say, 
 ' I am sick ! ' The vigor that made us able to 
 bear fatigue in our youth, the lightness of 
 frame that exhilarated and gave strange joy, 
 will all come back again. There'll be no 
 sighing, no tears, no night, but all one long, 
 bright glory." 
 
 " Wont it be beautiful? " an old man lisped, 
 in a voice filled with grateful awe. 
 
 "Yes, it will be heaven, heaven ! " murmur 
 ed the blind Betsey Gray. "O, 'tis good to 
 love Jesus."
 
 GRANDE THE DOUBTER. 223 
 
 Guilford turned silently to Austin, and was 
 surprised to see him looking over to the 
 farthest hill, not a trace of emotion on his 
 face. fc He had masked himself well. 
 
 " Let us go on," said Guilford, and without 
 disturbing the group on the alms house porch, 
 they continued their walk to Rose Hedge. 
 
 Mary Leffingwell met them at the door with 
 a courteous manner. Under an appearance of 
 great indifference she hid the signs of an un 
 easy and awakened conscience. In truth, she 
 both dreaded and liked the new agent. A 
 superior discernment revealed to her that he 
 was far beyond the average of mankind, in all 
 points that went to make up his character. 
 She even admired, haughty as she was, the 
 outspoken frankness of his speech, whenever 
 religious subjects were introduced, and sin 
 was fearlessly rebuked by him. 
 
 w I'll go to the conservatory," said Austin, 
 as Guilford and himself entered the sitting- 
 room. 
 
 w Go," said Guilford, "and I pity you if you
 
 224 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 do not see God in the humblest flower He has 
 made," he added to himself. 
 
 Maud Mary led the way to her mother's 
 room. It was on the ground floor, large and 
 airy, and scattered about were many evidences 
 of the wealth and taste of the occupants. Mrs. 
 Leffingwell was seated in an easy chair. Her 
 face looked thinner and more spiritual than 
 was its wont. 
 
 "I'm very glad to see you," she said to 
 Guilford, holding out he.r hand. " Here I sit 
 as now, day after day ; it is very wearisome." 
 
 "It must be," responded Guilford, pity in 
 his voice. 
 
 "I'm not very happy, either," continued 
 Mrs. Leffingwell, and round the rims of her 
 eyes the tears began to crowd. " It used to 
 give me some satisfaction to dress, and to 
 play cards, but now, I don't know why it is, 
 I can't take any comfort in either." 
 
 "The immortal soul craves immortal em 
 ployment," said Guilford. 
 
 " I begin to see that," said Mrs. Leffingwell,
 
 GRANDE THE DOUBTER. 225 
 
 softly stroking the head of a pet spaniel that 
 placed its fore paws on her knee and was re 
 garding her with fond eyes. K You don't know 
 how I feel, Mr. Coit, when I look back ; why, 
 what a dead, dreary waste it seems ! I have 
 not thought of anything but myself. What 
 shall I do ? What have I got to think of, af 
 ter this ? what good have I done ? Why, Mr. 
 Coit, what have I been doing all my life ? " 
 
 These questions she asked as if standing in 
 judgment before herself ; her gaze introverted, 
 her lips pale, her fingers working nervously 
 in and out together. 
 
 " If I could only think whether I had ever 
 consoled anybody, even by word or look, but 
 such things never occurred to me. It was, 
 what shall I wear ? Which way shall I go ? 
 The soul, the soul ! why I don't know as I 
 ever cared whether I had a soul. God ? why, 
 He never entered my thoughts. I have only 
 lived for dancing and eating, and visiting and 
 fashion, and now my soul is buried up under 
 all this rubbish."
 
 226 THE MTT.L AGENT. 
 
 w My dear madam," said Gnilford, quickly, 
 M you could never see your soul in the state it 
 is if God's spirit had not moved the rubbish. 
 He is letting the light in ; He is giving you 
 a chance to clear away the earthly matter that 
 has weighed down your better nature. Do 
 not despair ; Christ is nearer than you think." 
 
 K But the past, the past ! how trifling ! how 
 miserable ! how utterly worthless ! oh, if I 
 could only forget the past." 
 
 "You must forget the past," said Guilford, 
 gently, " you need have thought and care only 
 for the future, now. O, madam ! the salva 
 tion of an immortal soul, the change from na 
 ture's darkness to God's marvellous light, is a 
 matter so mighty, so all engrossing, that the 
 whole heart, mind and spirit should be con 
 centrated upon it to the exclusion of every 
 thing else." 
 
 "Yes, I do feel it, but even if heaven 
 should be merciful to me, think how few days 
 I shall give to God, what a low seat I shall 
 take hi heaven, and it might have been so dif 
 ferent."
 
 GRANDE THE DOUBTER. 227 
 
 M That is the last thing to ponder on now. 
 A man rescued from a burning or a sinking 
 ship does not murmur that he is not placed 
 in the cabin of the vessel that gives him shel 
 ter and safety. That he is out of danger is 
 his first consideration, as it should be yours. 
 What if you are but an infant in holiness when 
 you enter heaven ? there is all eternity to grow 
 in." 
 
 The thought seemed to give her comfort, 
 and Guilford remained talking with her until 
 he feared that she had already exhausted her 
 strength. But as her hopes rose, her vigor 
 seemed to grow with them. This new food 
 was very sweet, refreshing, invigorating. He 
 told her of Hager, for whom she professed the 
 deepest sympathy. 
 
 '' Go and get her some of the choicest flow 
 ers," she said, as he was taking his leave ; 
 " and tell her to pray for me," she added, al 
 most in a whisper. He passed through the 
 sitting-room. Mary sat reading. She arose 
 as he walked by. An impulse came over him
 
 228 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 and he could not restrain it. He held out his 
 hand and she gave him hers ; he said, " do not 
 wait ; offer him the fulness and beauty of your 
 youth." 
 
 She withdrew her hand in seeming dis 
 pleasure, and gave him a haughty glance, but 
 to do this she was obliged to hold back the 
 crowding tears, and he knew it. 
 
 On his way to the conservatory, his prayers 
 were most fervent for this interesting 
 household. The warm, sweet breath of the 
 flowers greeted him as he entered under the 
 tropical vines and the bright fruited orange- 
 trees. There was a sound of voices afar down 
 the vista of green and crimson and gold. It 
 was Austin Grande, talking with the old gar 
 dener, a man of good appearance, and who had 
 been in Clifton Locks but a few weeks. Slow 
 ly moving onward, Guilford saw a leathern- 
 covered Bible with iron clasps, lying upon 
 one of the flower-stands, and beside it a pair 
 of steel-bowed spectacles. He opened the 
 volume ; it had evidently been long and
 
 GRANDE THE DOUBTER. 229 
 
 thoroughly handled, constantly and attentive 
 ly read. Still holding it in his hand, he saun 
 tered along, his eyes riveted by this pas 
 sage : 
 
 " There are, it may be, so many kinds of 
 voices in the world, and none of them is 
 without signification." 
 
 The words seemed to take on a new mean 
 ing to him. " Some," he thought to himself, 
 " have even been impressed by the voices of 
 these little flowers, for they have a language 
 in which to praise God."
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE GARDENER'S STORY. 
 
 'HOSE is this?" he asked, holding up 
 the volume as he drew near Austin 
 and the gardener. 
 
 "If you please, its mine, sir," said the lat 
 ter, with a strong English accent. 
 
 " Perhaps we are brothers, then," said Guil- 
 ford, " for if I mistake not, none but a Chris 
 tian would give such a book such usage. 
 
 " I humbly trust I am," said the man. 
 
 " He has been telling me something about 
 his life," interposed Austin, willing to change 
 the conversation. "It seems he was once a 
 miner, in England." 
 
 "Yes, sir, a downright, hard chap, I were, 
 too ; but God, He had mercy on even such a 
 one as I. I were brought up a gardener, sir, 
 but there were a good chance to earn better 
 wages, so I took to the mines."
 
 THE GARr.EXEll's STORY. 231 
 
 "And how long since you've been a Chris 
 tian, my friend." 
 
 " O ! sir " the man seemed struck with 
 sudden anguish " that's ever sense I lost my 
 wife and my baby to onct, sir." He shook his 
 head, and his strongly curved lips trembled. 
 
 "Ah ! And would it trouble you to tell us 
 about it?" asked Guilford, anxious to use 
 every available means that might impress 
 Austin. 
 
 "Well, no, I don't know, as it would," re 
 sponded the gardener, as the three seated them 
 selves. " I never had much training when I 
 were a youngster, and I s'pose I was specially 
 a hard case. I can't remember anytime, what- 
 somever, that I ever heered of any prayer, or 
 God, or the Bible. My father was head 
 gardener on an estate in Dorsetshire, and I 
 were with him, till I had the chance I spoke 
 to you of. One day when I'd got along some 
 where about twenty-four or five, I says to my 
 self, ' I'm not going to have any of the women 
 here,- for a wife,' so off I started for Tipton, a
 
 232 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 town ten miles off. My mother had a cousin 
 in Tipton, who was what she called ' dreadful 
 pious,' that is she went to meeting three times 
 in a Sunday, and thought powerful of her 
 minister; that was where I went; marched 
 into the house like one of the family, and there 
 became acquainted with Barbara. 
 
 " She were a pretty lass, and I soon see 
 she was pious, too ; so I used to pretend to 
 read the Bible, and I'd go down on my knees 
 at prayers, so that after a while I was pretty 
 well off in that quarter. 
 
 "Well, you see, I still passed off for a gar 
 dener, but it kind o' went agen my heart, 
 when she put her hand in mine, so gentle-like, 
 and said she'd be mine, to think I'd deceived 
 her so. Heaven forgive me ! The girl loved 
 me more than father or mother. I was n't 
 .worth one of her thoughts. She was a deli 
 cate, purty little thing, with dancing blue 
 eyes, and a slow kind of smile, that someway 
 went directly to the heart. And you see, 
 I loved her that much, I didn't dare te tell
 
 THE GAKDEXER'iS STORY. 233 
 
 her for the life of me, how I'd deceived her, 
 till she was almost home. 
 
 '^Hien I said to her, says I, ' I didn't tell 
 you the truth about my business.' 
 
 "With that she looked up so the smile 
 trying to come, but it couldn't that it choked 
 me. 
 
 "'Barbara,' says I, 'I ain't a gardener 
 now, though I have been one ; I'm a miner, and 
 it's coarse, ugly work, and you ain't fit to be 
 my wife, I know. But I I loved ye, Bar 
 bara,' and saying that, I couldn't stand the 
 look in her eyes ; I had to turn away. 
 
 "'O I Jack, how could ye? Maybe I 
 would'nt care what the work was,' she said, 
 'Xt oh ! I do mind the deceiving ! ' and she 
 began to cry. 
 
 " Well, instead of saying I was sorry, as I 
 ought, or that I'd try to make it up by my 
 good behavior ; and feeling mad with m} r sclf 
 aud mad at her tears, I jest set sullen till she 
 come to. Then she laid her little hand on 
 my arm, and she says,
 
 234 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 " ' Jack, have you deceived me about being 
 a Christian, too? Have I trusted ye all this 
 while to be disappointed in that?' 
 
 "I jest shook her hand off, like a brute, and 
 says I, 
 
 w It's none of your business what I am. If 
 you've a mind to believe me pious, why do 
 so ; but hark ye, I'm none of your canting 
 sort. 
 
 "With that she fetched a great sob, and that 
 made my temper rise. First I could feel it 
 heating me all through here in the breast, 
 and then it came to my throat, and worked 
 out of my mouth, and I began my first mar 
 ried day with words that I've wished since 
 had choked me. I was always famous for my 
 ugly temper. There wasn't a man among the 
 miners* that didn't fear me, and I didn't care 
 showing off on them; but it never'd came 
 to my mind that I'd talk that way to poor lit 
 tle Barbara. After I'd got through she was 
 dreadful still, and her face was so white and 
 sorrowful I could have bit myself for having
 
 THE GARDENER'S STORY. 235 
 
 said an unkind word, but I could not con 
 fess. 
 
 " Well, we got home in the dusky, bare 
 place near the mines, and I took Barbara, 
 poor thing, into my mother's cottage. 
 
 " yrevious to that I'd writ my mother to re 
 ceive her new child kindly, and so she tried 
 to, but I could seeshe didn't take to her from 
 the minnit she set eyes on her. Mother never 
 was pleased with anybody that wasn't strong. 
 She was a great worker herself, and she'd 
 often flung out about her cousin (whom she 
 hadn't seen for twenty years) because she 
 married a city man and set herself down to 
 
 KVlother told Barbara all about my temper, 
 too, and I do believe that remorse made me 
 uglier than ever at times. She tried to be 
 happy poor Barbara tried her very best, but 
 I could see that she hadn't confidence in me any 
 more, and it was kind o' wearing her out, like. 
 Two or three times I went home in a tearing 
 passion, but one night I believe I was crazy
 
 236 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 with my temper. I dou't like to think of it. 
 I wasn't satisfied with common oaths, but 
 took whatever I heard or knew of 
 turned it over in every possible way, 
 could use good and sacred words as vi as 
 possible. The poor girl fainted away, and 
 not long after there was a little child in my 
 arms and I was crying ovr it. 
 
 " Well, sir, it seemed to me that the minnit 
 I felt the touch of them little fingers, a change 
 came over me, and I was another man. It 
 seemed so then and long after. I tried to 
 curb my passion, tried to think always of my 
 little angel, tried to behave better to my p 
 wife." 
 
 The man paused a moment and toyed 
 a delicate passion-flower, standing near, 
 presently he began again. 
 
 "Well, perhaps I'll never ' see heaven ; I 
 don't know. I used to feel so a great deal, 
 and when I've been wretched and lonely, before 
 I came from England, I'd go to a great green 
 hillock near the mines, and look up, up, try-
 
 THE GARDENER'S STORY. 237 
 
 ing to find a way among the stars, trying to 
 think how I should feel if an angel walked 
 down it, down to me, poor miserable man I 
 and so I get thinking of my baby. She's al 
 ways an angel to me. It was so curious to 
 think that I, great rude miner, with stained 
 hands and blackened face, should be the father 
 of anything so white and handsome. O ! 
 if you could have seen the eyes, so large, so 
 blue ! that always seemed a talking to me, 
 and gave me a clean feeling to know they 
 were looking at me. And then the curls ! I 
 used to wonder how Barbara dared to brush 
 and turn them so ; I wouldn't a' dared hard 
 ly to touch one. It seemed as if it would 
 melt away from my fingers. Even my old 
 mother loved that child, and if I ever came 
 home out o' sorts, she'd just say, ' baby wants 
 to see you,' and that would calm me, like. 
 
 "Well, one day, a meddlesome fellow, Bill 
 Warner, and I got into a quarrel about a blast, 
 and we both had backers. It wouldn't do for 
 us to fight it out there, so we agreed to settle
 
 238 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 it that night, and after work took a drink on 
 it. I think they put something in that drink, 
 for I kept boiling up all the way home, and I 
 felt I should vent my spite on somebody be 
 fore the time for the quarrel came. True 
 enough, I'd no sooner set my foot on the door- 
 sill, than all the fiends in me gave a great 
 bound, and at it I went. I cursed Bill War 
 ner, and still talking with oaths, I well, I 
 don't like to tell that part. She always said 
 she fell against it the open sheath knife in 
 my hand she said her foot stumbled. Well, 
 no matter, it wasn't that that killed her. The 
 doctor said it was only a small flesh wound, 
 it would heal soon. He bound it up, and 
 things went on, I was going to say, as usual, 
 but they didn't. Before I left in the morning 
 I'd backed out of the fight, you see, for her 
 sake I saw Barbara try ing to wake the baby. 
 She was weak, and lying down and couldn't 
 seem to manage it, so I went to lift it don't 
 mind me, gentlemen, I never speak of that 
 but I cry like a child. It almost killed me,
 
 THE GARDENER'S STORY. 239 
 
 sir ; it did kill her. Tbat dear little angel was 
 dead. It never opened them beautiful eyes 
 again. O ! I thought I should have gone 
 stark mad, standing there holding it, frozen, 
 like, my eyes glued on it, and Barbara crying 
 out very fast, 'what is it? what is the mat 
 ter?' 
 
 " O, dear ! I laid it in her arms ; what else 
 could I do ? I laid the little dead thing right 
 in her arms. She didn't speak a word, only 
 looked first at the baby, then at me, shiver 
 ing as if she held it like cold ice against her 
 heart. 
 
 " Maybe 'tisn't gone, Barbara,'! kept say 
 ing, but she never spoke, only her eyes grew 
 wilder and her cheek whiter, and my mother 
 whispered, 'go for the doctor, Jaok, or she'll 
 die too. I don't think I felt anything the 
 whole way. I was stunned. I couldn't even 
 speak to him, but he saw there was something 
 worse than usual on hand, and he jumped on 
 his horse. But I got there first yes, fast as 
 he went, I was there before him. I've heard
 
 240 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 of flying to the uttermost ends of the earth ; I 
 believe if I'd kept on, I should have got 
 there. 
 
 w Barbara, poor white thing ! still held the 
 baby still shook like an ague ; and there were 
 great black hollows under her eyes. 
 
 ' Why ! how's this ? ' asked the doctor. 
 ' Ah ! I see shock last night ; the baby nurs 
 ed, didn't it? Yes; disordered the stomach; 
 had a fit died.' 
 
 w All this time I sat in the corner, cursing 
 myself, tearing my hair, and pinching my 
 body, till I almost pulled the flesh off. There 
 was a rushing sound in my ears, and I was all 
 in a seethe just as I've seen the earth look 
 when it was going to break after a blast ; the 
 cracks running in every direction, and the 
 ground pricking out and quivering. O ! I 
 didn't know which way to turn. I'd felt 
 thankful to see some one standing before me 
 with a loaded gun ; I wanted to curse God and 
 die! 
 
 " Says the doctor, 'you'd better come here,
 
 THE GABDENER'S STORY. 241 
 
 now, young man ; ' and I got to the bedside, I 
 don't know how. She was looking straight 
 at me, and the old, slow smile, was coining 
 into her face. 
 
 ' ' Let me take her, Barbara,' I said, for I 
 felt somehow as it was awful for her to be 
 hugging the dead baby. 
 
 " She only shook her head, and gave me 
 one of her sweet looks, then turning her eyes 
 up, once, as if she saw something, and cud 
 dling the baby up closer, she she died. 
 Yes, sir, and I hope you'll excuse me for 
 showing off this way. I ain't a crying man ; 
 I never shed a tear as I know of, before that 
 tune, and hardly since. But when I saw 
 them both baby and my poor Barbara, that I 
 had killed yes, both of them language ain't 
 strong enough to tell you my feelin's. O ! no, 
 I can't seem to believe they ever belonged to 
 me ; and though they was within hand's touch 
 of me, I could seem to see a great river roll 
 ing between us. 
 
 "But I vowed a vow there, gentlenien, that 
 may God help me keep. I vowed over them,
 
 242 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 and I believe they knew' it, somewhere, that 
 I'd try to be pious, as she was, and I'd never, 
 so long as I held the memory of that little 
 face, no, never get ugly again, and so far, I 
 haven't broke it. Sometimes it seems as if 
 all the evil spirits in the world get at me, to 
 tempt my ugly out of me ; but there's one 
 little white face, with blue eyes, and such 
 light, soft, silky curls, jist there front of me ; 
 I seem to see it, sir; that has more power 
 than all them fiends. And when I'm sore 
 pressed, and the temper threatens to git the 
 upper hand of me, I takes my Bible, that old 
 Bible there, that a pious old man give me, 
 fifteen year ago, and I kneels down and prays. 
 I don't know what kind o' praying it is. I 
 expect there wouldn't anybody understand it 
 but God ; and I wouldn't think He did, if I 
 didn't have a light feel after it, that doesn't 
 come only to folks as is pious. Well, sir, 
 I'm getting better of my ugly. Them little 
 fingers is leading the rough old minor up to 
 the mouth of that great shaft, and I hope soon 
 to jump out among the stars, and ha' done
 
 THE GARDENER'S STORY. 243 
 
 with the dark pit o' life. And then I'll see 
 my baby, sir ; my baby, if she is an angel. 
 I'll see my wife, and she'll give me that good 
 old smile ; I know she will. And they two 
 wont be the only ones that'll say f well done ! ' 
 when I enter into them joys that no ears has 
 heard tell of, and no eyes has seen." 
 
 The gardener paused. The quivering of 
 his lip, the starting of the big tear had ceased, 
 and his face took on a quiet peace and humil 
 ity. Austin had raised his eyes but seldom 
 during the recital of the humble experience, 
 and when he did so, at last, it was evident 
 that he had been greatly affected. 
 
 " You all tell the same story," he said, after 
 Guilford had spoken with the gardener, and 
 they were leaving the conservatory. 
 
 " Yes, the story of the cross," said Guilford, 
 smiling. 
 
 "It's all Greek to me," was the gloomy 
 reply. 
 
 "And will be, till you humble yourself to 
 learn it," said Guilford.
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 A GREAT REFORMATION. 
 
 (ft HE Colonel was just coming into the 
 VL^yard. Merric sat on a beautiful gray 
 pony behind him. 
 
 " You'll both stop to dinner, surely," he said. 
 
 w No, sir, I thank you," replied the agent. 
 
 "I wish you would," said Merric, hearti 
 ly, his grasp still within that of Guilford's. 
 
 "I would, but " 
 
 " It is one of your -fixed principles never to 
 dine out Sundays, I suppose," said Austin. 
 
 "It is." 
 
 " Very well ; carry my regards to little Ha- 
 ger ; tell her I picked most of the flowers," 
 and Austin Grande placed the beautiful bunch 
 in Guilford's care, and stepped back on the 
 piazza. 
 
 "I will do so," said Guilford, quietly, and
 
 A GREAT REFORMATION. 245 
 
 walked away, leaving Austin standing beside 
 the Colonel. The young man entered the 
 house again with Memo, dissatisfied and un 
 easy. He felt that he had held back merely 
 to show his opposition to his friend. There 
 was a singular combination of opposite ele 
 ments warring in his mind, just now : admira 
 tion of Guilford Coit's character, a dislike 
 amounting almost to hatred of the religion he 
 professed, notwithstanding he felt its holiness 
 and saw its justice. In his soul he said, 
 though he knew it not, " I will not have this 
 man, Christ Jesus, to rule in my heart." 
 
 The Colonel joined his wife ; the three 
 young people sat together. Naturally, Guil 
 ford become the theme of conversation. 
 
 " He is too perfect," said Miss Mary, with 
 a curl of the lip. She was looking through 
 some sacred songs to find one Austin had ask 
 ed her to sing. 
 
 " I'm sure there's nothing Puritanical about 
 him," responded Merric. " When I go into 
 the office I find him first rate company, I can
 
 246 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 tell you. He's grand at telling stories, and 
 the best of it is, he gets 'em off so dryly, and 
 still he never swears, or says the least thing in 
 an ungentlemanly manner. Now Hunt was ex 
 actly his opposite. Hunt was always talking 
 about spreeiug it, and even in the presence of 
 ladies he was not careful about his language. 
 Well, poor fellow, there he is in prison, at 
 last." 
 
 " In prison ! " ejaculated his sister. 
 
 "Yes, father and I have learned to-day that 
 he was arrested for another robbery, and now 
 this will be proved upon him, too." 
 
 w Then father will get his money again, and 
 he made me a promise once that if ever he 
 did he would give me half. A thousand dol 
 lars, only think ! I shall have five hundred. 
 Will father prosecute ? " 
 
 " He says he will," replied the young man ; 
 w the loss will probably fall on Hunt's father, 
 who is a man of property. He is very honest, 
 they say, and declares no one shall lose by his 
 son if it beggars him. It will kill him though ;
 
 A GREAT REFORMATION. 247 
 
 what a pity for a good father to have such a 
 son. But what will you do with your five 
 hundred, sis?" 
 
 " Give it to Mr. Coit to build a meeting 
 house," laughingly responded Mary. 
 
 " Take care, sis, many a true word spoken 
 in jest, you know." 
 
 " Perhaps Miss Leffingwell will found an 
 asylum for monomaniacs," said Austin, a 
 slight curl of the lip betraying the half sneer. 
 
 Merric looked up, his face aglow with a 
 generous indignation : K I wish I was just such 
 a monomaniac as that man is," he said, the 
 quick flush springing to his face. w I be 
 lieve he's none of your half-way Christians, 
 but good all through. I've seen a great many 
 professors of religion, and some of them in 
 earnest, too, but it seemed an effort to them 
 to keep right. Now it isn't so with Guilford 
 Coit. He's made up his mind, that man has, 
 that his religion shall govern him, not he his 
 religion. And if ever I make up my mind to 
 be a Christian, I hope I shall be one after his
 
 248 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 pattern. He's one of the happiest fellows I 
 ever knew. You always hear him singing or 
 humming, and I should just like to know 
 what other man can smile as he does ? Why, 
 he seems to take you right into his heart." 
 
 "Bravo ! well done, Merric, quite eloquent, 
 upon my word ! who's the paragon ? " 
 
 Merric rallied after a momentary confusion. 
 His father's handsome, hearty, wondering face 
 confronted him, as he turned. 
 
 " I needn't have asked the question, how 
 ever," said the Colonel ; K of course, there is 
 but one perfect man in all Clifton Locks, 
 every body knows that, and he takes care that 
 they shall." 
 
 "Father, that is ungenerous," said Merric, 
 his eyes kindling again. "I beg your pardon, 
 but I must protest against your last remark. 
 Mr. Coit is unusually modest and unpretend 
 ing. He never forces his opinions upon any 
 one:" 
 
 "Not in words, I grant you, but the fellow 
 seems determined to make you feel in some
 
 A GREAT REFORMATION. 249 
 
 way, if it's only by a look that he is better than 
 you are," replied the Colonel, almost angrily. 
 " He might be just as honest, capable, and all 
 that he is, without making such a fuss about 
 it. There's your mother worried almost into 
 fits by hun ; mourning her wickedness, poor 
 woman ! What has she ever done that she 
 need be in fear of a future ; a harmless unof 
 fending creature like her ? If I had as few sins 
 on my soul as she has, death wouldn't look 
 very terrible to me." 
 
 All this time Mary sat at the piano, aimless 
 ly turning over the leaves of her music, but 
 listening eagerly to every word. Young as 
 she was, and inexperienced in the ways of the 
 world, she was yet conscious that her mother's 
 whole life had been one of frivolity and vani 
 ty. She knew in her soul that there was a 
 difference, a higher life to be lived than the 
 standard to which her youthful mind had been 
 directed, and she awaited her brother's reply 
 with interest. 
 
 " I think if we should judge ourself by the
 
 250 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 Bible-standard," said Merric, " the most harm 
 less and innocent seeming among us would 
 need repentance." 
 
 "And what man is there but repents ?" ask 
 ed Austin. 
 
 " Ah ! you and I need a different sort of 
 penitence from the merely sentimental," said 
 Merric, as, much agitated and with a pale 
 face, he left the room. 
 
 " I must stop Coit from talking to that boy. 
 He holds him there for hours together ; I sus 
 pect he wants to make him as strait-laced a 
 Puritan as he is himself," said the Colonel 
 angrily. " I must stop it and I will." 
 
 Meantime Sarah Church, in her humble lit 
 tle home, enjoyed the fruits of her long and 
 earnest devotion to her father. On this same 
 Sunday afternoon she sat with him on the 
 porch of their little house. Sarah had grown 
 thoughtful in her content, but her dark eyes 
 beamed with an inward pleasure, a peace 
 above all others, that had lately taken up its 
 abode in her heart. Everywhere about them
 
 A GREAT REFORMATION. 251 
 
 seemed thrift and content. The orchard had 
 been carefully pruned and dug about, long 
 neglected fences mended, bushes cut and 
 trimmed, flowers cleared of weeds, and the 
 whole place seemed rejuvenated. Even the 
 gate and the door had received a coat of paint, 
 and over the latter a vine that had laid trail 
 ing in every unseemly direction over wall and 
 window, was tastefully trained and fastened, 
 so that it made the place like a bower. Bet 
 ter than all, her father sat beside her, clothed 
 in his right mind. For weeks he had not 
 touched the unclean thing, and he seemed to 
 take so much pleasure in the work of renova 
 tion, as it progressed under his hands, that he 
 had no inclination for the baser excitements to 
 which he had become accustomed. Sarah, 
 like a wise and judicious girl as she was, fol 
 lowed up all these good results with the most 
 pains-taking care. She arose early and put 
 everything in order, that the house she wish 
 ed to keep sacred might look pleasant to him. 
 She took the little earnings formerly devoted
 
 252 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 to ornaments, and purchased delicacies with 
 which to tempt his diseased appetite. Hav 
 ing her father's turn of mind, she procured 
 works on scientific subjects, and read to him, 
 herself, after the labors of the day were over, 
 to save his failing eyesight. Beautiful in her 
 care and devotion, she let no opportunity pass, 
 in which she might show him how tenderly 
 she loved, and how solicitous she was for him. 
 Wrecked though he had nearly been, he still 
 wore the remnant of his nobility bravel} r . As 
 he sat there, the wind played gently with his 
 thin white hair, and the careworn look habitu 
 al to him, was softened by the smiling curves 
 of his lips. 
 
 Sarah no longer looked forward to the next 
 ball as her only and highest anticipation of 
 pleasure ; it was enough for her that her 
 father was restored to her after six years of 
 almost hopeless dissipation. She had said to 
 him only the night before, "father, why can 
 we not make for ourselves a home ? Colonel 
 Leffingwell owns this house ; suppose he gives
 
 A GREAT REFORMATION. 253 
 
 us an opportunity to purchase it. With such 
 an object before us, it will be so pleasant to 
 labor ! " 
 
 M I can never consent to let you take this 
 upon yourself," said her father ; " but you 
 shall help me, or I will help you." 
 
 Sarah looked with an inquiring eye at her 
 father. The smile deepened on his lip. 
 
 " I have thought of an invention in which I 
 am almost sure to succeed," he said. 
 
 The bright glance faded out of Sarah's face. 
 It was his disappointment in an infringement 
 upon a patent right of his, and for which his 
 poverty prevented him from receiving justice 
 by law, that had broken him down. Who 
 can wonder that Sarah trembled as she looked 
 back with fears and doubts. He noticed her 
 downcast expression. 
 
 I know of what you are thinking, my child, 
 but don't fear for me. After many nights of 
 solemn communion with myself and my God, 
 I have come to the deliberate conclusion that 
 no power, no temptation, no disappointment,
 
 254 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 shall ever lead me to that poison again. I 
 have so decided, and I believe God will help 
 me." 
 
 From that moment Sarah felt less fear, and 
 is it to be wondered at, that the emotions of 
 her heart, made her face so joyous on that 
 serene Sabbath night? It was pleasant to 
 think that as time rolled on they might have 
 a hearth-stone of their own. 
 
 And' what beautiful thoughts are connected 
 with the home hearth-stone. Though the 
 broad flags of the old fashioned fire-place are 
 not, though the brush, and the cup of mixture 
 with which the good wife was wont to " red 
 up " the fire-place, are gone, perhaps, forever ; 
 yet is there not an ideal hearth-stone, "sa 
 cred to the memory," though departed from 
 our sight ? Can we not all look back to the 
 dear, lighted rooms, where merry faces and 
 thoughtful brows were gathered? The old 
 grandmother is there, knitting in hand, the 
 dear old saint, verging well on to ninety; 
 ever ready with child-like smile and word of
 
 A GREAT REFORMATION. 255 
 
 encouragement. The grandfather, with knees 
 crossed and hands folded, nods as he talks, till 
 some burst of childish laughter sets his dim, 
 blue eyes wide open again, when he smiles, 
 pats the nearest rogue upon the head, and 
 dozes again. 
 
 Babes are there, pure and loving ; the calm- 
 eyed mother is there ; the grave father, look 
 ing with inward eyes upon a long, long pano 
 rama, stretching before him the future of all 
 those dear ones, as he would have it. It is 
 the old, yet ever new, romance of the hearth 
 stone ; the Mecca of the true poet's imagin 
 ation ; the well of refreshing, for the weary 
 man of business ; the spot sacred to the most 
 hallowed loves, emotions, and prophesies of 
 the heart ; the beautiful garden in the desert : 
 the cluster of palms and dates in the else bar 
 ren waste of life. 
 
 It is, however, not only the happy family- 
 circle numbering its members by the half 
 score, that knows the blessing and beauty of 
 the hearth-stone. We will take you to a lowly
 
 256 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 cottage, where the vine grows over the wall, 
 and roses bloom without and within, over the 
 neat threshold, through the beautiful hall, and 
 you will find a hearth-stone there, although 
 there are but two to dwell before it. They 
 are both in middle age, and they sit side by 
 side under the clear light, whose jets proceed 
 from long-drawn tubes and from dark avenues 
 under the earth. They sit together ; a book 
 half closed rests on his knee, of which they 
 are talking. No children have blessed their 
 union; still are they happy, for they know 
 that children are an " heritage of the Lord," 
 and if he has withheld them, it is for some 
 good purpose. So they lavish yet the more 
 love upon each other, and thank God that they 
 can have a hearth-stone, on which to erect an 
 altar, before which to bow, and from which to 
 dispense blessings and charities to the home 
 less and the needy, even if the sweet singing 
 voices of little children are denied them. 
 
 And how happy Sarah and her father were, 
 of late, before their little fire ; you can tell
 
 A GREAT REFORMATION. 257 
 
 who have felt the hard smiting of the drunk 
 ard's eurse against your heart, and then, all 
 suddenly, have known the joy and peace of 
 his recovered love, when the demon of strong 
 drink has been put away forever. 
 
 " Father," said Sarah, " I will go in and get 
 our supper, and then if you will spare me, 
 perhaps, I had better run down to the tavern 
 and sit with Hager till dark. Shall you be 
 lonesome ? " 
 
 " I will go with you, dear," said her father. 
 She checked the exclamation of surprise that 
 arose to her lips. She said not a word, but a 
 dark dread came over her. He was going in 
 the very midst of temptation ; was he strong 
 enough? Was the old love so crucified, that 
 neither sense would open to its fascinations ? 
 She would not let him see that she doubted or 
 feared, so she went within ; but there was a 
 tumult of thought and feeling that confused 
 her. Perhaps Guilford Coit would be there ; 
 if so, a mute look would put him on his 
 guard ; he would talk with, and watch over, 
 the old man.
 
 258 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 The little table was presently spread. How 
 neat and delicate it looked ! Because there 
 were but two, Sarah did not follow that mis 
 taken policy of making things only conven 
 ient. It would have been as easy, perhaps 
 easier, to let the table remain against the side 
 of the wall ; but would it look as well? Sarah 
 decided not, and that nothing was worth hav 
 ing that was not the occasion of some trouble, 
 be it ever so slight. It would certainly have 
 been less expensive to use a common dark 
 cloth ; but Sarah reasoned rightly, when she 
 said, "why should I let this fine linen, which 
 was my mother's, lay in drawers to mould or 
 to yellow, when it might give pleasure by its 
 exquisite whiteness?" Therefore it was, that 
 the daintiest princess might have eaten at that 
 humble board. I do not remember that I 
 have described Sarah Church. You may 
 wish to know whether she was regal in stature, 
 or fairy-like ; whether her hair was like gold, 
 or of deeper tint and shadings ; but ] prefer 
 that you should determine how she was beau-
 
 A GREAT KEFOilMAlION. 259 
 
 tiful, or if sue was beautiful at all, in the pro 
 gress of uiy story. And let me just hint, 
 here, that a love of truth, a delicate regard for 
 the feelings of others, a simplicity of speech, 
 an inherent and noble modesty, a love for 
 God and religion, a real regard for what is 
 really virtuous, these constitute a beauty 
 meritorious and worthy of possession. The 
 sick bed will test it, but it will shine brighter 
 there. Tune, with its itching fingers, cannot 
 steal it, for it is locked within a treasury that 
 never yet, with such safeguards, was robbed ; 
 and it can be improved hour by hour, moment 
 by moment, till it shall shine in the full glory 
 of perfectness. 
 
 Stand before your mirror, there, maiden, 
 with the plain features, and see if there are 
 dark lines there, marked with discontent. 
 Look closely within that eye, gentle, but per 
 haps neither dark nor brilliant ; has no envy 
 darkened its softness ? Does harsh anger of 
 ten curl the lips to scornful shape, or thought 
 less and foolish words wreathe them in uii-
 
 2 GO THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 meaning smiles? Does the hectic glow of 
 passions unrestrained, mantle the cheeks ; or 
 has sullen disquietude stolen the gloss from 
 the locks of banded hair ? If none of these 
 things have taken place, never fear for your 
 plainness ; the soul will take care that its 
 beauty shall not be disregarded. 
 
 Supper over, and the little room put to 
 rights again, Sarah and her father set out, not 
 without some misgivings on her part. That 
 Mr. Church was a fine looking old man was 
 generally conceded, even when he was de 
 graded by his habits ; but to-night, spite of 
 her fears, Sarah could not help stealing now 
 and then a glance of pride at him, or, with a 
 childish ingenuity, lingering behind ostensibly 
 to pick some flower, really to see how well 
 and straight and noble he looked ; and to 
 watch the sunlight, now fast travelling to the 
 west, glitter on his white hair. 
 
 "These are beautiful, are they not?" asked 
 Sarah, holding up a sprig of wild jessamine, 
 and another of bergamot. "What are they
 
 A GREAT KEFORMATION. 261 
 
 the emblems of, father you know all about 
 the flowers." 
 
 "Friendship, my dear," said her father, 
 pausing a moment; "how natural and eloquent 
 the language of the flowers is ! an f oratory,' as 
 some one has well said, ' that speaks in per 
 fumed silence, in which there are tenderness 
 and passion, and even a buoyancy of gay 
 mirthfulness, unknown to other vocabula 
 ries.' " 
 
 "Hager is so fond of flowers, the dear 
 child," said Sarah compassionately, w I'll make 
 her a bouquet, though I suppose, they keep 
 her lavishly supplied from Colonel Leffing- 
 well's hot-house. She always seemed to me 
 like an exquisite little flower herself," she 
 added, in a caressing voice. 
 
 The doctor's carriage stood before the 
 tavern, and a little group was gathered talk 
 ing with hushed voices. 
 
 w Something has happened, I'm afraid," 
 said Sarah, as they hurried on ; " what shall 
 I do if little Hager is gone, without saying a 
 word to me ? "
 
 262 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 A neighbor met her on the threshold. 
 
 "We all thought the last had come," she 
 said, " but the doctor thinks she is better, 
 now, and wont go to-night. As for poor 
 Tristam, you could hear him all over the 
 house. They've just gone down to the mead 
 ow-lot, (for he ran off there like a crazy man) , 
 to tell him. Dear, dear how dreadful he 
 takes on ! As for her, dear lamb," the 
 woman continued, "there she lay, and does 
 yet, patient as an angel. Mr. Coit stays by 
 her, just like a brother ; she can't bear him 
 out of her sight. She jest nestles up to him, 
 and I expect that makes her father feel bad, 
 for I don't think he likes the new agent any 
 too well, or at least, he didn't. Dear me, 
 don't I look like a fright in this old red 
 shawl ? but there ! says my husband, f they've 
 sent for you up to Saint's,' and I almost 
 knew what that meant, so I hurried off 
 without stopping for dress, though to be 
 sure " 
 
 "What did Hager say?" queried Sarah,
 
 A GREAT REFORMATION. 263 
 
 cutting her short somewhat unceremoniously. 
 
 " Say ? dear mercy ! everything. But what 
 do you think? she asked her father if, 
 whether she died or lived, he would let them 
 get up a Sunday School in the hall, up stairs. 
 He promised 'yes,' he said, 'anything, any 
 thing only don't die, don't die, father's dar 
 ling.' You ought to have heard him ; it was 
 enough to melt a heart of stone. I never 
 thought that great strong man could have 
 took on that way." 
 
 " Father, where will you stay, while I go 
 upstairs?" asked Sarah. 
 
 Her look was so appealing, her manner so 
 conscious, that the old man's pride took fire. 
 
 "Daughter, are you afraid to trust me, 
 now? " he asked, reproof in his voice. 
 
 "No, no," she whispered; "forgive me. I 
 will trust you, fully, wholly." 
 
 She left him, commending him, in her heart 
 to God, and went up to Hager's room. I said 
 up it was but four or five steps from the 
 lower hall into the bedroom, her mother had
 
 264 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 occupied before. Sarah never needed to ask 
 if her presence was welcome, so she moved in 
 softly and saw a picture. 
 
 The upper part of the large bed, all white 
 drapery, was lustred by the setting sun. It 
 was no ordinary red that bathed pillow and 
 folded hands and spiritual face, but a royal 
 crimson of deepest splendor tinged with the 
 richest bronzing of gold. Clear hues of car 
 mine edged with a faint lustre, laid on the 
 wall at the bed's head, and some distant re 
 flection of shimmering water trembled in sil 
 very, wavy lines between. For the moment 
 it seemed an almost supernatural glory, not 
 of earth, but of heaven, and Sarah stood trans 
 fixed with awe and admiration. 
 
 Hulda Saint was walking softly back and 
 forth at some distance from the bedside, striv 
 ing for that composure, that the fear of the 
 shadow of death had so ruthlessly broken in 
 upon ; the doctor was placing a written pre 
 scription within the hands of the nurse. Guil- 
 ford Coit, half in that wondrous light that
 
 A GREAT EEFOEMATIO?r. 265 
 
 faded as mists fade into clear atmosphere, sat 
 by the head of the bed, reading in a very 
 low and very soft voice, some portions of the 
 Psalms. 
 
 " Doctor," said Hager, as she saw him pre 
 paring to leave, and her voice was clear and 
 sweet as that of a child, " I want you to come 
 here a moment." 
 
 The physician moved around on the other 
 side. 
 
 "Doctor, do you think I can possibly live a 
 week?" she asked, smiling. 
 
 " You may live, several," he answered. 
 
 " If I take any particular care, or nourish 
 ment ; will that prolong my life ? " she asked 
 again, anxiously. 
 
 "Your life depends upon nothing of that 
 kind," he replied ; " the only thing is to keep 
 as free from excitement as possible." 
 
 " Doctor, I want to ask you a question, and 
 you must say yes," she added earnestly. " If 
 I can't live, and you have said I can't, will 
 you let them take me down to the river ? I 
 want to be baptized."
 
 266 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 " No," said the doctor, shortly, " that would 
 be little less than suicide." 
 
 She answered cheerfully, though her lips 
 quivered, w I am sure that Christ would take 
 care of me. He is here, something good and 
 pure, strong and holy, is here ; it makes me 
 feel as if His arms were upholding me. And 
 He will take care of me if I go down into 
 the water." 
 
 " But what difference will it make, child?" 
 
 " Doctor, I want all the world to see," she 
 said with a lovely smile ; w I want all Clifton 
 Locks to know that I publicly profess Christ. 
 The mill girls will all be there those who 
 have so often joined me in the dance, will be 
 there. I love them all. I want them to see 
 that there is no gloom in religion. It's not 
 dark, this dying ; why, doctor, I feel just as 
 if there was a great palace, filled with music, 
 just before, a glorious palace, whose doors are 
 opening for me. Doctor, you must say, yes." 
 
 " I cannot say yes ; such excitement as that 
 would be death."
 
 A GREAT REFORMATION. 267 
 
 " Please call Mr. Coit," she said childishly. 
 He came. 
 
 "Do you say, too, that I must not go into 
 the water?" she asked, laying her little palm 
 in his. 
 
 " Not yet, darling ; it's not best now," he 
 said in his grave way. 
 
 w But I dreamed, I went down, and two 
 bright angels came up with me. The water 
 fell all about them, in such beautiful colors ; 
 and my robe seemed covered with precious 
 stones." 
 
 "God will accept you just the same, you 
 know." 
 
 " O ! yes ; " but a sigh followed. 
 
 " I'll tell you what we will do, little one ; 
 we'll have Christian service here, and you 
 shall hear it all. Wont that be next best?" 
 
 " Perhaps so," she said quietly. " Mr. Coit, 
 would it please you, to have me get well? " 
 
 " Hager, darling," he cried almost passion 
 ately, w God knows, it would be the happiest 
 day of my life."
 
 268 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 " And if I die you never, never will for 
 get me." 
 
 " Forget you ; " he turned from the saintly 
 little face a quick, heavy sob sounded upon 
 the still air; his chest heaved mightily, a 
 shiver ran through his frame. Controlling 
 himself, he was calm again ; as he looked 
 down upon her, great tears making a heavy 
 mist before his eyes. "My little Hager you 
 know I could not forget you, who are the first 
 fruits of my mission." Sarah, who had been 
 seated near, arose to leave the room. Some 
 way, everything looked dim and clouded to 
 her, even Hager's beautiful face. 
 
 That evening, she said to her father, 
 quietly, her face was much paler than usual, 
 " I think, father, if Hager had lived, Mr. Coit 
 would have made her his wife." 
 
 " Ah ! " the old man looked up, then went 
 at his tools again ; " it might be. Hager was 
 always a sweet child ; a precious, affectionate 
 little creature, and hers a face unlike all the 
 others. I used to think Saint wouldn't keep
 
 A GREAT REFORMATION. 269 
 
 her long. So you think, young Coit likes 
 her." 
 
 " Yes, I do ; " and with an imperceptible 
 sigh, Sarah drew up her little stand, and com 
 menced sewing. 
 
 At that moment, the mill agent was pacing 
 his own room, with hurried steps. Occasion 
 ally, in a low, tremulous whisper, might be 
 heard the words, 
 
 " The dearest idol I may have, 
 
 Whate'er that idol be; 
 Help me to tear it from thy throne 
 And worship only Thee."
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 A DAY IN THE WOODS. 
 
 COLONEL LEFFINGWELL gave * 
 party in the woods that week. When 
 Hager heard of it, her eye brightened. 
 
 "You will go, Mr. Coit, and enjoy it all 
 you can, for me and yourself, too. You 
 don't know what good times they have out in 
 the green woods ; oh ! you can't think how 
 they do enjoy themselves ! " 
 
 Guilford looked with a swelling heart down 
 upon the little figure, so helpless, so unselfish ! 
 Not a thought for herself save that she wished 
 him to have a double portion of pleasure by 
 enjoying it for her. He saw how much it 
 delighted her, so he made no vain excuses, 
 only said, 
 
 "To be sure I will go, little Hager, if you 
 wish me to, and I will come home with a 
 budget of news.
 
 A DAY IN THE WOODS. 271 
 
 " Thank you, and tell Miss Mary how pleas 
 ant her visit seemed ; I didn't talk much when 
 she was here, but I felt grateful ; and say the 
 flowers she sent keep fresh." 
 
 The mill girls flew back and forth at inter 
 vals to whisper of the anticipated pleasure. 
 Teams were decorated with flags ; teams went 
 loaded from the Colonel's to the grounds, five 
 miles off, where there was a waterfall, and un 
 rivalled scenery ; teams carried music and 
 tables and flowers, and finally the merry com 
 pany, by tens and twenties, and even forties. 
 
 O ! the open country, the glorious, God- 
 made country ! To live within sight of a field 
 with its carpet of emerald, is a luxury. How 
 much more to view broad acres of infinite 
 variety, to rove with satisfied gaze from the 
 comely swell of the hill to the beautiful level 
 of the meadow, touched here and there by the 
 light-springing birds, while the sweet hay 
 cocks, the loosened tresses of the earth, chang 
 ing from yellow to brown, throw off odors as 
 of precious oils.
 
 272 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 And then the trees, singly and in families, 
 those dumb but animate things, whispering in 
 language known only by the winds, stretching 
 off for miles toward the sea and toward the 
 farther country. Their leaves sparkle in the 
 sunshine, their branches overshadow the roofs 
 of humble homes ; their fruits fall into the 
 dimpled hands of children, their beauty causes 
 hearts to be unconsciously glad ; and God 
 made them graceful, so that in all their mo 
 tions they speak of an unchangeable love. 
 
 Then there are the sparkling blue streams, 
 lying in green basins, and margined with low, 
 dreamy alders ; and still farther beyond, the 
 salt sea, like a purple-blue mist, with its ships, 
 that the distance purples also, heaving its 
 glittering waves against shore and keel, bear 
 ing great freights and glad tidings over its 
 mighty bosom. 
 
 n O 1 these glorious views of the free, un 
 limited country 1" thought Guilford as, seated 
 upon his perch, in a great farm hay-cart, be 
 side the driver, he overlooked the grand
 
 A DAY IN THE WOODS. 273 
 
 stretches of God's wonderful limning ; w how 
 .they enlarge the soul ! One grows kindred 
 with the bounteous earth, till a resting place, 
 even in its darkest corners, seems a pleasant 
 thing. In spite of the narrowing influences, 
 and despot circumstances, in spite of the ills 
 of flesh, the troubles of poverty, the carking 
 cares of life, death and decay, the contempla 
 tion of these innumerable works of Deity in 
 fuses buoyancy, hope, and the love of the 
 everlasting Father in the soul, till even the 
 frame seems etherealized, and heaven begun on 
 earth." 
 
 And it is even so in every experience. The 
 very stones glistening upon the hill-sides 
 speak of peace. The cattle, deep in the grass, 
 seem mutely to acknowledge that, God has 
 placed them upon a thousand Mils. 
 
 Hark ! That exquisite trill that gives such fin 
 ish to the warble of the forest-bird, speaks the 
 mechanism of the same creative hand. The 
 corn enriched with tassels of gold ; the butterfly 
 its many colored wings in the midst
 
 274 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 of the leaves ; the tinted flowers of carnation, 
 of royal purple, of princely yellow ; the apples, 
 just turning from russet to red every orchard 
 a mine of wealth and beauty ; the barberries, 
 like jewels of flame and drops of amber all 
 these fill the soul to the brim with love and 
 admiration. 
 
 " If this depth and purity of atmosphere," 
 again thought Guilford, r if these riches of 
 color and harmonies of shape, these sweets of 
 fruits and transparencies of pebbly streams, 
 these clear breathings of the winds, and lofty 
 breadths of sky and sea, could from some 
 alembic be poured into our human hearts, 
 what harmonies would play along our lives ! 
 Then, as the shadow's that fall upon the hill 
 sides only add a varied loveliness, so would 
 it be with us as the shadows of time touched 
 us with their shifting hues ; always gliding, 
 always making new shapes of beauty ; always 
 reflections from that which is in the heavens 
 above, and not of the earth beneath." 
 
 " There are the groves ! what a beautiful
 
 A DAY IN THE WOODS. 275 
 
 place ! " cried the glad voices, as the wagons 
 were speedily emptied. Soon dispersing, the 
 merry company moved about now under the 
 shadows of the trees, and now on broad 
 patches of sun-lighted grass. Swings were 
 up, platforms arranged, and only mirth and 
 happiness seemed universal there. Colonel 
 Leffiugwell, in the goodness of his heart, had 
 provided with a liberal hand. He had also 
 made arrangements for the town poor who 
 were able to go. They were carried in a 
 wagon with easy springs. Wrinkled faces 
 seemed youthful again with smiles ; pain and 
 care were chased away or forgotten. 
 
 Mrs. Leffingwell went in an easy carriage. 
 She appeared to. have taken a new lease of 
 life ; there was no repining, no petulance ; and 
 the calmness with which now she looked on 
 things that would once have irritated beyond 
 forbearance, had operated most favorably 
 upon her health. She was still a confirmed 
 invalid, but thanks to the religion of Christ, 
 a more patient one. A pretty little tent had
 
 276 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 been erected for her accommodation, and 
 there, on entering, she found her daughter 
 Mary, and several friends, visitors at Eose 
 Hedge. 
 
 " You see, mother, we have made a nice 
 couch for you," said her daughter, pointing to 
 a high heaped mound of dried mosses, cover 
 ed with shawls and blankets. "I sent the 
 men to gather the moss, and now you have a 
 chance for rest." 
 
 The tent was ornamented with roses, and 
 evergreen hung in festoons from side to side. 
 
 "That was Mr. Coit's work," said Maud 
 Mary, pointing to the graceful hangings. 
 
 " Every thing he does, is well done," said 
 Mrs. Leffingwell. " I never saw his equal." 
 
 " He needs some friends," said the young 
 girl, demurely, "for he is not a very popular 
 man. I liked him, till he made his opinions 
 so conspicuous ; but now I think he is self- 
 righteous, y ' 
 
 " O ! my child, he is one of the humblest 
 of God's creatures," said Mrs. Leffingwell.
 
 A DAY IN THE WOODS. 277 
 
 " I don't look upon him in that light," said 
 Mary ; " neither does papa. He's dreadfully 
 afraid we shall have dancing, I understand, 
 and I've ordered it particularly, because he 
 protests against it." 
 
 Mrs. LefHugwell looked greived for a mo 
 ment; then she said sadly, "my child, I fear 
 I can never undo what I have done I must 
 leave you with God." 
 
 "Don't fear but what I shall do well 
 enough, mother," said Mary lightly, that 
 strange spirit of rebellion that operates so 
 powerfully upon every heart, rising up at her 
 mother's words. " Merric and you can enjoy 
 these things, you know, since he is going to 
 be a minister." 
 
 "Merric a minister ! " exclaimed Mrs. Lef- 
 fingwell in astonishment. 
 
 " Yes, a parson. All I know about it is, 
 that he is willing to relinquish his brilliant 
 prospects for a country school-house, and 
 boarding round, or standing up, at the best, 
 in a pine board meeting-house, and thumping
 
 278 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 the Bible. I don't see why he need become a 
 fanatic all at once ; he isn't so very wicked, 
 and never has been." 
 
 At this time Mary Leffigwell was alone with 
 her mother, their friends having left the tent 
 to ramble about. 
 
 " My child how do you know this ? " 
 
 "Because I overheard my father talking 
 with him. ' If that is your decision,' he said, 
 * If you will forego the prospects which I have 
 pointed out to you, and study for the ministry, 
 you and I must go different ways.' " 
 
 "And what did Merric say?" asked Mrs. 
 Leffingwell, her cheeks crimson with excite 
 ment. 
 
 "I hope you wont oppose me, father; if 
 you do, still I must be about my chosen work ; 
 these are my clearest convictions.' Father 
 then walked towards the door and I hurried 
 away." 
 
 " My God, I thank thee," was the inmost 
 grateful expression of the invalid's heart, but 
 she said nothing. Mary, after seeing her
 
 A DAY IN THE WOODS. 279 
 
 comfortably seated, went out at her request, 
 to join the gay company, while the mother 
 felt not alone with the beautiful conviction 
 that her son, like herself, was a disciple of the 
 blessed Saviour. Yes, Mrs. Leffingwell was 
 a Christian. The resolve had been made in 
 one of her hours of utter gloom, that she 
 would throw all upon the mercy of Christ, and 
 find happiness that would never fail her. Not 
 without many and fierce struggles did the soul, 
 bound hand and foot as it were in the fashions 
 and frivolities of life, come up like the sheeted 
 Lazarus, out of the tomb of its unbelief, and 
 through God's grace walk forth a new being to 
 see new life and new beauty clothing even the 
 very grass of the fields, and smiling from the 
 trees. It was the work of many days. It 
 was compassed by much anguished pleading, 
 by a true repentance. It was sealed by Christ, 
 and in openly professing her love to Him, 
 before her family, she had made such a com 
 motion as years of woiidliness and fashion 
 had never seen there before.
 
 CHAPTEE XVH. 
 
 A NEW FEATURE. 
 
 'HE large company divided according to 
 their several tastes. Some of the more 
 reckless young men and women had walked 
 nearly a mile to have games of ninepins in a 
 bowling alley at that distance. Others enjoy 
 ed the swinging and the simple plays in which 
 Guilford Coit was the leader. He was in de 
 mand everywhere. Genuine happiness made 
 his face beam so that its kindliness was a card 
 of recommendation even to the little children, 
 and it was "oh! Mr. Coit, do this, oh, Mr. 
 Coit, can't you make up something that we 
 can play ? " and he entered into the spirit of 
 the thing, seeming like a child himself. Col 
 onel Lcffingwell saw him leading the games, 
 heard his merry shout, and care-free laugh, 
 loudest of all, and said to himself, while his 
 brow grew dark, " this man is incxpli cable."
 
 A NEW FEATURE. 281 
 
 At whatever turn one might come upon, 
 somebody was revelling in the enjoyments of 
 the day. Father Goldby, with his band of 
 halt and lame sauntered or sat together, and 
 it was affecting to hear the old people talk of 
 their former days. "When I was young," 
 was the string upon which they all harped ; 
 some pathetically, others ludicrously, others 
 again with a quiet zest and relish that gave 
 token that their hearts were young yet. 
 
 Sarah Church and her father were now and 
 then seen through the emerald vistas, she 
 hanging lovingly on his arm, and very proud 
 of him. In one of his rambles Guilford met 
 them. 
 
 w You see I have not been idle," said Sarah, 
 handing a list from which he read the names 
 of twenty who had promised to join in form 
 ing a Sabbath School. 
 
 " That is very encouraging,'" he said ; " how 
 it will cheer the heart of our little Hager." 
 Mr. Hanfort came along. He walked with his 
 face down, his hands folded behind him.
 
 282 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 "I suppose you have heard of the good 
 work," said Guilford, cheerfully. 
 
 "Oil beg your pardon, sir," said the man, 
 with a startled air, "what work do you refer 
 to?" 
 
 Guilford stated the matter to him. 
 
 ? I am glad to hear it," said Mr. Hanfort, 
 though he spoke with a gloomy voice. "Save 
 the young, sir, save the young," he said 
 solemnly, and passed on, still with his head 
 bent, still with his hands behind him. 
 
 "Poor man!" said Sarah, pityingly, "he 
 can't get over the dreadful death of his son. 
 I understand that he has since received fresh 
 proofs of the fact." In another moment, al 
 most before they knew it, Mr. Hanfort was at 
 their side again, his head more erect, his arms 
 folded before him. 
 
 " Mr. Coit," he exclaimed, and his voice 
 even, had changed, " what can I do for Clifton 
 Locks?" 
 
 " My dear sir," said Guilford, laying a 
 hand upon his arm, " what cannot you do for
 
 A NEW FEATURE. 283 
 
 Clifton Locks ? With a few liberal Christian 
 men, we could revolutionize Clifton Locks, 
 sir." 
 
 w Very well," said Mr. Hanfort, the gloom 
 clearing somewhat from his face. "I feel as 
 if I wanted a work to do. I have mourned 
 long enough over the late of my poor boy. 
 Sir, it has led me to come back, and take up 
 my unfulfilled duties ; it has raised the altar in 
 my family ; it has bruised my man-fearing 
 spirit, and humbled me to the dust ; it has 
 taught me to be more regardful of my family. 
 But, oh ! sir, I cannot banish the terrible con 
 viction that my poor boy's death lays at my 
 door. As I passed you just now, some good 
 spirit whispered to me, tell him so. Work 
 with him for the regeneration of all these 
 souls ; do your duty to them as a man and a 
 Christian, and God may be merciful to him ! 
 It may be a foolish impression, pass that by, 
 but tell me just wiiat I can do for Clifton 
 Locks." 
 " My dear friend, the fields are all white
 
 284 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 unto the harvest," said Guilford, his heart 
 swelling with new joy. "Look upon them," 
 and he pointed to the throngs on every hand ; 
 K we can make a second Paradise of Clifton 
 Locks, it is so beautiful ! yes, it needs only 
 the active, living spirit of God in these young 
 hearts, to make it a heaven on earth." 
 
 The sad face of Mr. Hanfort brightened. 
 
 " I thank God that you ever came here, Mr. 
 Coit," he said, holding out his hand. 
 
 "And I, too," said Guilford, humbly, with 
 no vain attempt at parrying what some might 
 call a high compliment, " if I may but be the 
 means in His hands of doing any one any 
 good." 
 
 "What a rare character," whispered Mr. 
 Church aside to his daughter. 
 
 " I will see and talk with you further," Mr. 
 Hanfort said, holding out his hand again, and 
 grasping that of the agent warmly ; " this has 
 been on my mind, more or less, for some 
 days." 
 
 ** Well, Sarah, you see the little leaven is
 
 A NEW FEATURE. 285 
 
 working," Guilford remarked, as he passed 
 her ; " God will yet reign in Clifton Locks." 
 
 The young man moved forward he saw 
 the Colonel's gardener, who was creeping 
 along under a great weight of evergreen 
 branches. 
 
 " How are you, Jack ? " 
 
 "Bless God, well and happy, sir," the man 
 replied ; " but Mr. Menic is been looking 
 for you a long while, sir." 
 
 "Where is he, Jack?" 
 
 " Just yonder by the tent, him and Mr. 
 Austin, together. He's been talking power 
 ful to Mr. Austin, sir ; bless God, he's got 
 hold of his heart, sir." 
 
 " I'll hurry to him ; but where are you car 
 rying all this trimming ? " 
 
 " To the tables, sir. The mill-hands, they 
 are going to fit up a sort of bower for Miss 
 Mary, sir." 
 
 " That's right," said Guilford, and hurried 
 in the direction of his friend. He found him 
 alone, walking backward and forward. As
 
 286 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 soon as he saw the agent, his face brightened. 
 He hastened to meet him. "The die is cast," 
 he said ; " I have come out from the world." 
 
 M I am very glad," exclaimed Guilford, his 
 voice trembling with emotion. 
 
 * Yes, three years, if you will believe me, 
 I have been fighting off the conviction that 
 God requires my heart. I had a class-mate at 
 college, who died about my age, one of the 
 loveliest of Christians. He was ever urging 
 me to accept the Saviour. Is it not strange 
 that at times you have resembled him so 
 much that it seemed as if he spoke through 
 you ? I loved him ; I would almost have 
 given my life to save him, and yet I would 
 not give to God that which was already his 
 own, by creation, even though I knew what 
 comfort it would afford him on his dying 
 bed." 
 
 " Thank God ! it is not too late," whispered 
 Guilford. 
 
 "I do thank God," was the reply; "thank 
 Him that He counts me worthy to suffer,
 
 A NEW FEATURE. 287 
 
 for my father has all but disowned me. He 
 says he will not see me through college if I 
 hold such views ; that he will not aid me in 
 any way ; that I can have my choice, my 
 father's home and a lucrative profession, back 
 ed by strong influence, or poverty, struggle 
 and exile. He was very harsh, yesterday, 
 and has not spoken to me since ; even Mary 
 seems cold to me to-day, and I have shrank 
 from speaking to my mother, for it is doubtful 
 how she would receive it." 
 
 "With joy and thanksgiving," said Guil- 
 ford. 
 
 w Are you sure of it?" 
 
 " I am quite sure of it," was the reply. 
 
 "Then I shall not be a stranger in my 
 father's house." 
 
 " Neither there nor in Clifton Locks," re 
 plied Guilford, fervently ; M I tell you there is 
 going to be a great work in this town. When 
 such men as Mr. Hanfort come forward, and 
 of their own accord, cry out ' what shall I do 
 for Clifton Locks?' it is the sign that harvest 
 is near."
 
 288 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 * Did he ? Did that cold professor ask that 
 question ? " 
 
 "He both asked it, and meant it," said 
 Guilford. " If he wants work, be sure there 
 is enough ready to his hands. But what will 
 you do ? " 
 
 " God will direct," replied Merric, straight 
 ening his youthful figure, a glow of holy en 
 thusiasm kindling his face ; w isn't it good to 
 trust in Him?" 
 
 w Yes, and to feel there is no possible dan 
 ger in loving Him too well, in concentrating 
 our energies too wholly and fixedly upon 
 Him. Earthly objects may excite our fond 
 ness, our idolatry to a dangerous extent, but 
 the heavenly, the imperishable God all and 
 in all mighty, as He is, He stoops to our 
 poor hearts, and we may worship without fear 
 of stint. Yes, you say bravely. None ever 
 trusted Him in vain. You must go through 
 college." 
 
 K And I shall ; my faith is strong." 
 
 " We will find a way," said Guilford cheer-
 
 A NEW FEATURE. 289 
 
 fully, " even if the Colonel should deny yon 
 the house, you know where to come." 
 
 " Most assuredly," was the reply ; * but I 
 trust my father would not proceed to such 
 measures. I have been talking with Austin 
 Grande," he added, willing to change the sub 
 ject. " Grande is a good fellow, but bitter, 
 bitter in his views of religion." 
 
 "Yes," replied Guilford, "so bitter that he 
 will not stay there long ; he will come out of 
 doubting castle." 
 
 "I am glad to hear you say that,* 5 said 
 Merric. 
 
 " Look here Coit Leffingwell," shouted a 
 familiar voice. 
 
 They turned, it was Austin Grande himself, 
 his cheeks heated by exercise. 
 
 " We're going to have a jollier time than 
 we bargained for," he cried, coming toward 
 them, breathing hard. Throwing the thick 
 curls from his wet forehead ; " Guess what, if 
 you can." 
 
 "Dancing," suggested Guilford. Austin 
 sneered a little.
 
 290 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 w What made that come into your brain, I 
 wonder ? " he queried half impatiently. " No, 
 we've had dancing ; been to the other end of 
 the grove, to get out of the way of you Pu 
 ritans. But I'll tell you what it is, we're going 
 to have a genuine, old fashioned clam-bake." 
 
 K A clam bake, here ? " said Merric, in 
 credulously. 
 
 "Yes ; your father met a man with a load, 
 bought the whole lot, hired man, team and 
 everything; so they've gone to work down 
 here. It would do you good to have a sniff 
 at the air in that direction. It is odorous of 
 salt-hay, burning weeds and shell-fish. Want 
 to go over?" 
 
 Guilford and Men-ic, concluded that they 
 did. Groups were already on their way 
 to the scene of excitement. To most it 
 was an entirely new thing. They crowded 
 the piny leaves aside, and their feet sank in 
 the soft moss, while laughing voices, twitter 
 ing birds, the music in the branches overhead, 
 the 'shrill, distant whistle and hallo, added a
 
 A NEW FEATURE. 291 
 
 pleasant exhilaration.' They passed the tables, 
 already spread with white, and arched at the 
 head with evergreen boughs. The scent of 
 the woods came fresher as they advanced ; the 
 clatter of dishes, and breaking of ice, and odor 
 of viands and tea and coffee, cooking over 
 forest fires in the open air. White dresses 
 flitted in and out among the trees, youthful 
 faces smiled at them, the bland breeze touch 
 ed their temples lovingly. 
 
 At last they came within sight of the novel 
 view a huge mound of hot sand and smould 
 ering weeds, mosses and branches. Men were 
 already at work throwing aside, with long 
 shovels constructed out of pine branches and 
 boards, rudely put together, the smoking 
 shelfish. The Colonel himself appeared, hur- ' 
 rying round on all sides his face flushed, 
 giving orders here and there, directing, ques 
 tioning and deciding. 
 
 " They are taking out corn," said Guilford, 
 as the steaming ears, well wrapped in their 
 husks, were thrown on the grass.
 
 292 THE HELL AGENT. 
 
 " And fish ! " exclaimed Merric, in amaze. 
 
 "You see the facts of the case are these," 
 said Austin. w The men had contracted to 
 furnish a great bake np in Milford, but they 
 suid on a pinch they could provide the things, 
 and take them there late to-night, if the Col 
 onel would give them their price. Of course 
 he put down the cash, and they were in no 
 wise loth. The materials will be fresher for 
 Mjlford, and it don't matter to these men if 
 they do sit up all night, for the sake of a 
 speculation. It's a money-making delay for 
 them." 
 
 " Now came the fish, well wrapped in brown 
 paper, smelling deliciously of the sea. Great 
 buckets of clams, gaping and luscious, were 
 carried off steaming to the tables ; and from the 
 corn gathered in heaps, hundreds of dozens 
 were taken, still in their clinging envelopes, 
 leaving behind the great smoking mass from 
 which belched now and then thick puffs of 
 flame. 
 
 Presently there was a great ringing of bells,
 
 A NEW FEATURE. 293 
 
 a mighty clamor the signal for dinner. 
 Everybody was hungry. Exercise and the 
 fresh air had given them appetites that a city 
 denizen might envy. Already the aged and 
 infirm were seated. Colonel Leffingwell led 
 the blushing Mary to her beautiful ornament 
 ed seat, Mrs. Leffingwell preferring to dine 
 in her little tent, and Merric deciding to keep 
 her company. Guilford and Austin were 
 placed near the Colonel, Guilford observing 
 with sorrow that the latter had caused bot 
 tles of champagne to be set on the table near 
 him. 
 
 One of the young ladies, a visitor at the 
 Colonel's, had professed to take a singular in 
 terest in Guilford. Being a woman of con 
 siderable ability, she had more than once 
 argued with him upon different subjects, but 
 invariably ended in being a more of a listener 
 than a controversialist. She had arranged 
 in some way to be seated by the side of Guil 
 ford, and opposite Austin, so that in conver 
 sation she could command them both. For a
 
 294 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 while it was a busy time, passing, helping, 
 changing plates and refreshments, but Miss 
 Chesney had managed to find a theme on 
 which she was enlarging to a lady on her 
 right. Presently she turned to Guilford. 
 
 w Well, Mr. Coit," she remarked, careless 
 ly, " what do you think ; is there such a thing 
 as an innocent flirtation ? " 
 
 "Yes," he replied, "provided there was 
 ever an innocent theft, or a harmless murder." 
 
 " O ! you take it too seriously," she said, 
 after a momentary surprise. 
 
 " I am perfectly serious in what I say," he 
 replied. " One can bear to be cheated by a 
 cloth-merchant or a grocer, though the tran 
 saction merits unlimited contempt ; but to be 
 deceived by the lips and eyes, the smiles and 
 the speech of young hearts that God has 
 made to give love and consolation, makes 
 wounds that even time cannot heal. Heaven 
 only knows," he continued, with earnestness, 
 "how many heart-hardened men walk the 
 earth, soured and unhappy finding falsehood
 
 A NEW FEATURE. 
 
 everywhere, looking crookedly upon all crea 
 tures of harmony, seeing distortion in every 
 thing, because their natures have been warp 
 ed by some cruel deception such a thing, per 
 haps, as you would call an innocent flirtation, 
 commenced in sport, but ending in anguish, 
 to one, at least. Like the melted iron, glow 
 ing and rich, these men might have been 
 shaped to forms of enduring beauty ; but the 
 sledge-hammer of deception came down, flat 
 tened and twisted, and left them cold, black, 
 shapeless masses." 
 
 "You are eloquent, Mr. Coit," said the 
 lady, not yet prepared for a refutation. 
 
 " The nature of the subject is such that I 
 talk earnestly and feelingly, for I believe that 
 the victim of a flirt, in proportion to his single 
 ness of nature, his wholesome and implicit 
 faith in his kind, his generous, unwarped 
 sense of justice, and the breadth and depth of 
 his love, oftentimes becomes the more morose, 
 unyielding, woman-hating man. And many 
 such do marry from prudential motives, after
 
 296 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 the fatal change, and lead their wives most 
 unhappy lives." 
 
 " Ah ! but you know young and inexperi 
 enced girls are not the only flirts in the world, 
 Mr. oit." 
 
 " Yes, I do know it," he returned, with deep 
 er tones and a kindling eye ; " shame that I must 
 say it, and to their absolute and eternal dis 
 grace, be it spoken, some married women are 
 flirts. Not even the sacredness of the vows 
 they have taken upon them, the trust which 
 their husbands confide in them, nor the opin 
 ion of the world will deter them from the 
 satanic love of vanity and misrule. Not even 
 the babes, whose soft eyes rebuke them at 
 every glance, and whose innocence is a con 
 tinual prayer for their unworthy mothers, can 
 wake them to a realization of the precipice on 
 whose brink they stand swaying to a fall." 
 
 "Excuse me, Coit," said Austin, "but al 
 low me to ask, did you never think of taking 
 orders? A capital clergyman was lost in 
 you."
 
 A NEW FEATURE. 297 
 
 "Perhaps so," said Guilford, quietly smiling, 
 " although I have not only taken orders, but I 
 try to obey orders," he added. 
 
 "You do not overlook the fact, I hope, that 
 our sex are not the only offenders," said Miss 
 Chesney, diligently cutting away at an ear of 
 corn ; " there are some men who flirt." 
 
 " And I'll tell you what I think of them," 
 said Coit, in a lower voice : "They are sui 
 cides, strangling the spiritual within them ; 
 they are theives, stealing trust and confidence 
 from the hearts that shelter them with honest 
 love ; they are counterfeits, passing for genuine 
 the smiles they lavish ; they are liars, bartering 
 their truth and honor for a shallow favor; 
 they are murderers, striking virtue to the 
 earth. They combine, in short, a variety of 
 every sin, every rank defilement under heav 
 en." 
 
 " Mercy on me, Mr. Coit, you are very 
 severe," said the young lady, " you don't leave 
 a loop-hole for them to defend themselves." 
 
 " They cannot defend themselves," was the 
 reply.
 
 298 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 w Coit, just this once you will take a little 
 champagne," said the hearty voice of Colonel 
 Leffingwell. " Miss Mary requests it as a per 
 sonal favor." 
 
 Guilford's face grew red ; he loved approba 
 tion, he disliked to be singular. Many eyes 
 were fastened upon him ; Austin's in particu 
 lar seemed to say, "if you throw aside this 
 excessive singularity, and be more like other 
 folks, I shall think better of your profession." 
 
 " I am obliged to Miss Leffingwell for her 
 politeness," he said, in a somewhat constrain 
 ed voice. " I am very certain she will over 
 look my refusal when I say that it is one of 
 my fixed principles never to taste wine under 
 any consideration." 
 
 "Coit, you are almost a saint;" said the 
 Colonel, with a sneer that was satanic. 
 
 The agent's lips grew white, and for one in 
 stant quivered with indignation. By the 
 merciful interposition of God, as he afterwards 
 said, he was enabled to overlook this insult. 
 The impulse was to throw back, as the world
 
 A NEW FEATURE. 299 
 
 might call it, a manly defiance, and stalk from 
 the table, but he remembered that Christ bore 
 meekly the imprecations of his enemies ; he 
 seemed to see for a moment the little pallid 
 figure of Hager between white curtains, and 
 there came a grief to his soul that quelled all 
 rashness, and enabled him to conquer himself. 
 
 The Colonel turned quickly to Austin 
 Grande. 
 
 " I am not in the habit of indulging in wine, 
 but I have too much respect for Miss Leffing- 
 well to refuse so kind an invitation," the lat 
 ter said with a gallant manner, and a side 
 look at Guilford as full of evil as the Col 
 onel's voice. 
 
 "Austin, for my sake, forbear," whispered 
 Guilford, his lips growing pale again. 
 
 The answer was a defiant laugh, and the 
 glass was tossed off with a reckless grace. 
 The wine was the strongest, Austin's head the 
 weakest ; the subtle fire mounted to the brain, 
 and played generously among the heart 
 strings, inducing a brilliant delirium, for it
 
 300 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 was his first glass, but, sad to say through that 
 day at least, not his last. 
 
 When they arose from the table some went 
 back to their sports, others sallied to the river, 
 not far off, for the purpose of boating, and 
 Guilford had made up his mind to return, 
 when Merric joined him. 
 
 " I have had such a glorious talk with moth 
 er," he said, smiling, w though it cuts me to 
 the heart to see my father's altered manner. 
 He has not spoken to me to-day." 
 
 "Where is Mrs. Leffingwell? " queried 
 Guilford. 
 
 " Just put her hi the carriage," was Merric's 
 reply ; w She was very much fatigued, and 
 thought it best to go home at once. What a 
 treasure I have found in her, she who was so 
 different. What! you are not going al 
 ready ! " 
 
 " I am anxious about little Hager," said 
 Guilford. 
 
 " You needn't be ; I heard from her half an 
 hour ago."
 
 A NEW FEATURE. 301 
 
 " You did ! by whom, pray ? " 
 
 " One of the wagon-men ; father sent him 
 to the tavern for something, and he saw her. 
 He said Hager told him to bring word to you 
 that she was very comfortable, that you need 
 not hurry home." 
 
 " Dear child ! " murmured Guilford, "I had 
 rather be there than here, but perhaps it would 
 grieve her if I returned." 
 
 K Let us go to the river," Merric suggested. 
 I know where there's a fine place for a bath, 
 out of sight of the boating ; come, it will be a 
 grand finale to this glorious day." 
 
 Guilford walked along with him. They 
 formed a pleasant contrast; Guilford, dark 
 and somewhat sombre of countenance, Merric 
 with boyish curls, blue eyes and a bright, 
 healthful color in his cheeks.
 
 CHAPTER XVin. 
 
 DROWNED. 
 
 Qjf AM disinclined for bathing," said Guil- 
 r2J ford, as they came in sight of the river, 
 flowing over smooth stones, and walled in on 
 one side by a mass of loosely piled rocks, 
 some six feet high. The rich coloring of na 
 ture tinged this stony barrier, the green and 
 gray mosses coated with spotted layers of 
 crimson, deep arches, broad flags of yellow 
 and long reaches of vivid sea-green. The 
 boats were already in use, being paddled in 
 among the snow-like leaves of the water-lily. 
 Girls with uncovered heads sat in them plash 
 ing the water with idle hands, some drawing 
 up the long velvety strings or stems of the 
 lilies. Singing and shouting voices sounded 
 near and far ; the sunlight came in pencilled 
 lines, curving and braided, between the thin 
 willow branches.
 
 DROWNED. 303 
 
 " Go and take your bath, Merric," said 
 Guilford, " I'll wait here. When you come 
 back, maybe we'll go boating too." 
 
 w I wish you would come," Merric, replied ; 
 " but since you wont, why, I hope you'll enjoy 
 yourself. I need the refreshment ; I am ac 
 customed to it." 
 
 He went away on this. Guilford walked 
 slowly back and forth enjoying everything ; 
 his own mind, for had he not conquered him 
 self? the beautiful scene before, around him, 
 all animated nature. Soon the sounds of gay 
 laughter grew fainter, the boats floated off 
 and away, the river lay before him, its flaggy 
 sides quietly rippling against the pebbly bank. 
 
 Guilford stood still, lost in pleasant thought. 
 His arms were folded, there was a smile on his 
 lips and in his dark eyes a dreamy light. He 
 knew not that he was overlooked, that the 
 Colonel's daughter had just paused not far off 
 and was regarding him with a curious eye. 
 Presently she walked slowly forward, picking 
 up here and there a shell or a bit of moss.
 
 304 THE MULL AGENT. 
 
 Her nearness startled him when he looked 
 he smiled surprisedly bowed. 
 
 " My brother was with you a moment ago, 
 I thought," she said. 
 
 " He was ; he is near here now, bathing. 
 "What a beautiful spot this is, Miss Leffing- 
 well." 
 
 " Yes, very beautiful. Father found it here, 
 completely hidden by trees ; he had them clear 
 ed away." She looked aside a moment, col 
 ored painfully, seemed struggling with her 
 self, and finally said in a hesitating voice, 
 
 " Mr. Coit, I was very rude to ask you to 
 take wine at tile dinner. I hope you will 
 overlook it." 
 
 " Don't mention it, Miss Mary," said the 
 agent, pleasure and surprise brightening his 
 face. " I assure you I can take no credit to 
 myself; it was hard to do my duty to-day. 
 Why are you not out boating? " 
 
 " My father cautioned me against it. He 
 had a fearful dream some days ago, and since 
 then he has been unwilling that 1 should go
 
 DROWNED. 305 
 
 on the water again. Father is somewhat su 
 perstitious ; would you think it, Mr. Coit ? " 
 
 Guilford smiled a little. He was thinking 
 how people who have no anchor to lean upon, 
 catch at straws. 
 
 w I don't know but I should, Miss Mary ; 
 people of his gay, joyous temperament have 
 more forebodings than is generally suspect 
 ed." 
 
 "Is there no hope at all of little Hager 
 Saint's recovery ? " asked the young lady, af 
 ter a silence of some moments. 
 
 " None in the least," replied Guilford, his 
 face growing very grave. w The little saint ! " 
 he added in a lower voice. 
 
 " I always liked her," said Mary, looking 
 down. 
 
 " She was worthy of love," replied GuUford, 
 his eye unconsciously measuring the long dis 
 tance to the nearest boat. M I sjiall never for 
 get her ; I think thought when I first saw 
 her, that she has one of the purest faces I 
 ever beheld. Now that suffering has spiritu-
 
 306 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 alized it much more, she seems almost an in 
 habitant of heaven sojourning on earth for a 
 little time." 
 
 " How patient she is ! " 
 
 " Yes, Christianly patient," responded Guil- 
 ford. " Ah ! Miss Leffingwell, you and I both 
 know, perhaps, what a sick bed is, unsancti- 
 fied by religion. When Christ supports the 
 fainting form, oh ! how changed the aspect of 
 all things ! Hager without Christ, might still 
 present a sweet image of patience, but with 
 Him she is able not only to bear, but to 
 triumph in suffering." 
 
 "Mr. Coit," said Maud, in a low voice, 
 there had been another long pause, "you are 
 of course aware of the change in my brother's 
 views." 
 
 "Yes, he told me to-day," was the reply. 
 
 "If by any means you can influence my 
 father," she said, and hesitated. 
 
 " God's grace alone can do that," he replied ; 
 " but I shall leave no means untried to effect 
 a reconciliation."
 
 DKOWNED. 307 
 
 " Father has threatened to draw himself en 
 tirely from him and I was going to say, 
 that in case if it should really come to that, 
 you know I shall feel it a privilege to aid my 
 dear brother. This I can do in the best way, 
 perhaps, by giving you this draft," and she 
 held towards him a check of five hundred 
 dollars. 
 
 Miss Leffingwell I " he exclaimed. She 
 changed color under his steady look. 
 
 He was disappointed delighted. 
 
 " I have a perfect right to do what I please 
 with it," she said quietly, though she trembled. 
 " It is a gift from my father, and he never 
 questions me about the use to which I put my 
 money " she started, " did some one call 
 me?" 
 
 " I thought I heard a shout," replied Guil- 
 ford, still holding the check, still too bewil 
 dered to know what to decide. "The boats 
 are coming ; we hear the voices from them." 
 
 " No, no ! " she grew pale, "there it is ! a 
 cry ! can it be my brother ? Mr, Coit, can it
 
 308 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 be Merric ! in danger ! Which way ? where 
 is he ? oh ! tell me ! " 
 
 " Take this till I see," said Guilford, giving 
 her the check and starting off in the direction 
 of the sound. Yes, there was no mistaking 
 that appalling cry, the fearful, anguished, 
 moaning shriek of a sinking man. The boats 
 were drawing faster, impelled by the sound ; 
 Guilford Coit flew like an arrow, while Maud 
 sinking against a tree, wrung her hands in 
 helpless anguish, then started to follow him.
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 A EE STORATION. 
 
 /HE place chosen by Merric, in which to 
 bathe, was a retired spot, where the 
 shore took an inward curve, and for some 
 yards the gravelly ground shelved down grad 
 ually into deep water. It was hidden by 
 stretches of land, thickly grown with trees 
 from the main body of the river, and reached 
 by a long bend. This was the only place 
 where the course of the river was so far in 
 shore, and the sweep so abrupt. 
 
 Merric had gone down at first, not intend 
 ing more than to take a hurried bath, but the 
 invigorating effect of the water, which, being 
 shaded, was icy cold, tempted him to swim, 
 and he was soon luxuriating in the blue 
 depths at some distance from the land. 
 
 Idly floating, half singing to himself, he lay 
 
 309
 
 310 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 there, when suddenly he felt his limbs drawn 
 strangely together and his strength forsake 
 him. He essayed to strike out, but in vain. A 
 paralytic's arms would have been as much 
 help as were his at that awful time. He at 
 tempted still to float, but the spasms seemed 
 to throw his limbs involuntarily, and he found 
 himself sinking. 
 
 Then he uttered his first cry. It was very 
 hard to perish thus in his youth, to tread 
 alone these deep depths and no friendly hand 
 near ; to feel the cold waters engulph him as 
 it were forever. Once more, and yet again, 
 the shriek of mortal anguish sounded, then 
 the struggles became fainter, the trembling 
 heart took hold of God ; the fair white face 
 upturned and just discernable, the fair hair 
 spread out like the tangled meshes of the 
 golden-hearted lilies, the eyes wild and yet 
 tender, uplifted for the last time, these the 
 pitying, yet perhaps triumphing angels saw, 
 and they only. 
 
 The dread roaring that had confused his
 
 A RESTORATION. 311 
 
 soul, as of pent up waters in resounding caves, 
 hurling themselves against a thousand rocky 
 points, had subsided ; the gentle flow of the 
 waters sounded like tinkling melodies that 
 poured gratefully into his ears. The sky 
 seemed bending close above him, and gates of 
 clouded pearl and colors of splendor dazzled 
 his failing vision. He was not alone, soft 
 voices, harmonies of more than earthly beauty, 
 faces so sweet and joyous that his gaspings 
 seemed for delights he could not express, 
 these were with him. There was no terror 
 now, no fear of the cold depths ; how could 
 there be? When Guilford reached the spot 
 he saw afar off only a few faint ripples. He 
 shouted as he threw by his upper garments. 
 There was no answering sound. Then plung 
 ing in he shouted again to the boats ; he could 
 hear their oars. 
 
 On, on he went. Desperation lent new 
 strength to his arm ; the waters were hurled 
 in thick clouds of spray in every direction. 
 The boats had made their appearance.
 
 312 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 "Standby," shouted Guilford, making a line 
 of the slow circle, "look over the sides." 
 
 On the shores were gathered the terrified 
 women. Colonel Leffingwell stood among 
 them, his gray locks in disorder, as he gave 
 commands or uttered hoarse shouts. Now 
 here, now there, his arms tossed wildly, offer 
 ing rewards to those who could swim (for he 
 could not,) begging Guilford for the love of 
 God to save his child, his only boy, the glory 
 of his old age. 
 
 Poor father ! what would he have given to 
 recall the past day when his harsh words cut 
 that young heart like a sword ; how he watch 
 ed every motion of Guilford, who, straining 
 and panting, utterly forgetful of self, swept 
 the waters in wide swathes, watching for the 
 least indication of the whereabouts of his 
 friend. 
 
 Suddenly he disappeared. Had he gone 
 too? No, there was no commotion in the 
 boats. O ! what a tune it seemed ! those 
 on shore scarcely drew breath; Mary was
 
 A RESTORATIOX.
 
 A RESTORATION. 313 
 
 crouching on the ground moaning bitterly, with 
 dry eyes. The glad sun, the glad sky, the 
 feast, the frolic were all forgotten; it was 
 night in those souls. 
 
 Suddenly there was a shout. Guilford ap 
 peared ; had he dragged up something with 
 him ? O ! yes ; the shuddering sight saw the 
 long, dripping hair, and a groan of horror burst 
 forth as, lifting it higher, the arms swayed 
 helplessly. They drew it in the boat, they 
 laid it down like a dead thing. Guilford 
 wearily climbed by his side, and the rowers 
 bent to their oars. 
 
 The boat's keel grated. "Thank God!" 
 Guilford said, when he found them setting 
 fire to piled brushwood. The tent also had 
 been hastily brought along and arranged, 
 blankets and everything available for warmth, 
 some kind and thoughtful heart had sent, none 
 other than Sarah, who, with the aid of her 
 father, had made all things ready. 
 
 What a sob it was that smote the atmos 
 phere when they took the body out. No
 
 314 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 signs of life, dead arms hanging and swaying, 
 dead eyes wide open ; the water pouring yet 
 in torrents. Colonel Leffiugwell alone was 
 ^silent. His lips were closed as if they were 
 stone ; he neither spoke nor wept, but with a 
 look of self-accusation, inexpressibly awful, 
 he took the body in his strong embrace, and 
 bore it into the tent. 
 
 " He is dead," he said, laying it down, with 
 another of those harsh, dry sobs ; " he is 
 dead ! " 
 
 " I don't know about that," said old Mr. 
 Church as he proceeded to detect some signs 
 of life. None whatever appeared. 
 
 "Let him betaken home," said the Colonel. 
 
 "No, sir," exclaimed the old man, with en 
 ergy, "not till I do my best to save him. 
 Give me the hot bottles, and leave me alone 
 with him and Mr. Coit. I have all the articles 
 necessary for use in such cases. Do not 
 send word to the house this six hours, for I 
 promise you I shall not give him up till then." 
 
 Reluctantly the old Colonel left the tent
 
 A RESTORATION. 315 
 
 and dispersed the crowd, first sending some 
 one to Rose Hedge to watch that the dreadful 
 news was not communicated to his wile. He 
 had no faith in the restoration, and as he was 
 left with his daughter, he raved with the most 
 frightful imprecations. Mary could not calm 
 him, but she remained near him, walking 
 when he walked, 'and when he flung himself to 
 the ground, kneeling beside him. 
 
 It was now three o'clock, and the party 
 were to remain till six. But all inclination 
 for pleasure had deserted the rudest and most 
 desperate . Colonel Leffingwell had made him 
 self, by his frank good nature, his kindness to 
 the people, and the interest he took in then* 
 welfare, almost an idol. Merric, in natural 
 graces, was the pattern of his father. Both 
 possessed that rare acquirement, the faculty of 
 at once inspiring love and reverence. Hence 
 the merry group could enjoy their sports no 
 longer, and most of them began to make pre 
 parations to return. Guilford sent some gen 
 tle message to reconcile Hager, to a longer ab-
 
 316 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 sence than he at first intended, and placed 
 himself under the orders of the old man. 
 
 " This suspense is awful," said the Colonel, 
 taking out his watch, observing that it wanted 
 but a minute of four. " For one hour they 
 have been over him, and no life yet. O ! 
 Merric, my son, my son ! " 
 
 " Let us be patient, father," said his daugh 
 ter. She had been sitting pale, cold and si 
 lent, lost in gloomy thoughts. 
 
 Another hour rolled on, and still another, 
 yet no signs of returning animation. Guil- 
 ford, wearied and weak, still exerted all his 
 remaining strength in keeping up the friction 
 necessary to support the faintest spark of life. 
 The Colonel had three times traversed the en 
 tire circle of the belt of woods in which they 
 had passed a day so eventful ; now he present 
 ed himself at the door of the tent. 
 
 "This is sheer mummery," he said, wildly; 
 " I will not have you do this longer ; let the 
 poor body rest. How can you torture it so ?" 
 
 Guilford saw the gleam of insanity that
 
 A KESTOKATION. 317 
 
 kindled his face ; he himself had almost given 
 up hope as the rays of the sinking sun redden 
 ed the canvas sides of the tent, and the edges 
 grew gloomy with coming twilight. 
 
 " Let me alone," said the old man sternly. 
 " I told you I should work over him for six 
 hours aye ! suppose it were twelve and hope 
 at last. Go out, Colonel," he added, more 
 gently, "you are not fit to be here. Go out 
 and don't come again till we send to tell you 
 one thing or the other." 
 
 " But the way I treated him ! " almost sob 
 bed the Colonel, though his voice was husky, 
 and his eyes dry and glassy. 
 
 " Colonel, you had better not remain here 
 longer," said Guilford, laying his hand re 
 spectfully on his arm. 
 
 " Perhaps not, perhaps not/' said Colonel 
 Leffingwell. 
 
 " And your absence may occasion com 
 ment at home. If you could only return for 
 a little while, and then " 
 
 "What! without him! go without my
 
 318 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 boy?" broke in the Colonel, abruptly, "No, 
 no ; I stay by till he goes with me, dead or 
 alive." Another dry sob. 
 
 " Then you will stay outside the tent. You 
 see your presence unnerves us ; we cannot do 
 all we would for his recovery." ^ 
 
 " Yes, I will go, I will go," the Colonel said 
 like a child, and he passed forth into the dim 
 ming atmosphere. 
 
 Mary Leffingwell and Sarah Church sat to 
 gether ; both were silent. Every few moments 
 Sarah responded to calls in the tent, taking 
 water whatever was required. By the time 
 it grew quite dark, Mary was persuaded to go 
 home, but the Colonel remained. The fire 
 was still fed by the attendants, and its bright 
 flame cast a brilliancy over every object near 
 and remote. Several of the town's people 
 were present, for an intense and heartfelt 
 sympathy reigned in all Clifton Locks. 
 
 Little Hager had wondered more than once 
 why Guilford did not come. At last her 
 mother told her that some one had met with
 
 A KESTOKATION. 319 
 
 an accident, (for she grew very restless) and 
 Guilford was stopping to help them. Then 
 her face brightened ; she said she was very 
 glad, for who would help as well as he ? " and 
 besides, mother," she added, " if it is serious, 
 and any one is going to die, you know he can 
 do just as much good as a minister ! " 
 
 So the shades of night came on, and it grew 
 intensely dark. Strangely looked that little 
 tent glimmering in the flame-light, the bowed 
 figures here and there, the groups standing, 
 walking, talking, wondering what the result 
 would be. Not far off, by a short cut, was 
 the Colonel's family carriage, waiting to re 
 ceive death or life. The horses stood, two 
 black shadows in the darkness, betraying their 
 presence only by an occasional stamp and 
 whinney. The coachman sat, likewise a black 
 shadow, erect, thoughtful, it might be fearful, 
 for sometimes he essayed to whistle, but the 
 whistle faded as if the darkness had shadowed 
 it also. 
 
 At last it was nine o'clock. The bereaved
 
 320 THE MILL AGEXT. 
 
 father had not spoken for hours, and there 
 was scarcely a movement to be seen, save the 
 black figures gliding warily within the tent, 
 or going to and fro from there to the fire. 
 
 At last Guilford came out. He staggered 
 almost like a drunken man as, meeting some 
 one, he asked in a whisper, "how shall we tell 
 him?" 
 
 " What ! then there is no hope ? " 
 
 " The young man is risen," said Guilford 
 solemnly, laying his hand heavily on the shoul 
 der of the other, as if for support. 
 
 "Do you mean to say " 
 
 w Yes, hush I be cautious ; I mean to say he 
 is given back from the dead. Fifteen minutes 
 ago we discovered a pulse ; one minute ago he 
 spoke to me " wholly overcome, Guilford 
 laid his head upon the arm that rested on the 
 man's shoulder, and burst into tears, for the 
 fatigue, anxiety, and constant efforts he had 
 put forth for so many hours, had made him as 
 weak as a child. 
 
 w There'll be a crying time all round, I
 
 A RESTORATION. 321 
 
 guess," said the man, huskily. It beats all I 
 ever heard of. Look here, are you certain?" 
 
 " Of course I am," said Guilford, "but I feel 
 stronger now ; I will go to the Colonel, I will 
 tell him as cautiously as I can." 
 
 They went slowly to the spot where the 
 suffering man had been for the last hour seat 
 ed. The fitful fire-light out in the darkness 
 shone upon his face, making more ghastly its 
 exceeding pallor. He did not seem to hope, or 
 fear, hardly to care. 
 
 "Colonel," said Guilford, "you must be 
 calm." 
 
 The old man sprang to his feet. O ! what: 
 a difference there was in the handsome, erect, 
 fastidious figure, the whole bearing of the 
 Colonel, as he stood forth before this great 
 trial, noble, erect, faultless, and the droop 
 ing, stooping, aged, care-worn aspect he wore 
 at this moment. 
 
 " You need not tell me ; " he replied, after a 
 few fruitless attempts to speak, during which 
 the dry lips came together and apart with
 
 322 THE MILL AGEXT. 
 
 that heavy, sucking sound that always dis 
 tinguishes inward grief. "The carriage is 
 here ; I will take him myself." 
 
 "But, dear Colonel, you do not under 
 stand." 
 
 " Not understand, not understand ! " he re 
 iterated, eagerly. " What do you mean?" 
 
 "Your son lives." 
 
 The Colonel caught his arm, led him to 
 the fire, gazed wildly in his face, laughed 
 more wildly, then seemed as if turned into 
 stone again. 
 
 " Do you mean to say you have succeeded?" 
 'he asked, with livid lips. 
 
 w I do ; we have, with the help of God, re 
 stored him to life," was Guilford's reply. 
 
 The Colonel gave one glance heavenward, 
 then fell on his knees. Slowly lifting his 
 clasped hands with an expression that in its 
 intensity was fearful, he cried, "God of heav 
 en and earth, for this unmerited blessing, for 
 this wonderful miracle, for this answer to a 
 sinner's prayers, I devote myself to thee ; I
 
 A RESTORATION. 323 
 
 devote my children to thee, souls and bodies, 
 eternally. Amen ! Now take me to him." 
 
 He had risen. Maud stood weeping by his 
 side. Unable to bear the suspense at home, 
 she had driven again to the woods ; the Col 
 onel placed his arm around her tenderly, and 
 kissed her. 
 
 He was so quiet, so thoughtful ! He only 
 drew a long breath as he entered the tent, as 
 if his heart were surcharged, and bent, like 
 one bending over an infant, above his son. 
 
 w O ! Merric, my boy ! my boy ! forgive 
 your old father ! " 
 
 There were few dry eyes there, few ! there 
 were none. A feeble response came ; the words 
 w I am so glad for you I " were faintly heard. 
 Outside the men were forming a litter. They 
 were so overjoyed, they were so excited, that 
 they ran hither and thither without method, 
 almost knocking each other down. Presently 
 out in the moonlight they brought him, well 
 wrapped up, but helpless as an infant, and 
 every heart there put up a prayer for him ; 
 some of them sobbed outright.
 
 324 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 " Guilford Coit, and you, Mr. Church, must 
 ride in the carriage with my boy and me. 
 Mary, darling, take Sarah in your carriage ; be 
 sisters to each other ; God bless you both ! 
 I am nearly crazed with happiness." 
 
 And so the day closed ; closed with prayer 
 and thanksgiving, closed with tears of joy, 
 for it was known thoughout Clifton Locks that 
 the Colonel's son was saved. The men 
 marched in a body almost to Rose Hedge, 
 and there they played upon the viol and flute, 
 upon whatever instruments they could muster, 
 and the harmony, though none of the best, 
 softened by the distance, sounded sweet as 
 angel music. Later, a carriage dashed up to 
 the door. It was the young doctor, all in a 
 tremor, just from the death-bed of his sister ? 
 with whom he had been through the day, ten 
 miles off. Guilford rode back with him to 
 the door of the tavern, stole one look at little 
 Hager, who justthenwas happily sleeping, and 
 hurried to his bed a wearied but a happy man.
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 THE COLONEL'S EESOLVE PUT INTO PRACTICE. 
 /| HE morning sun stole into the plain lit- 
 
 ft 
 
 tie chamber occupied by the two young 
 men Guilford and Austin. Guilford had 
 slept soundly long past his usual hour of ris 
 ing ; he awoke with a start, heard the rushing 
 of water, and suddenly that fearful scene of 
 yesterday swept across his vision. How 
 pleasant the sun seemed, now he thought that 
 Merric was not dead, now that he saw, as if in 
 a vision, the whole train of circumstances that 
 were likely- to result from this direct and 
 striking providence. Again the rushing sound 
 of water. Guilford turned his head ; a keen 
 pain smote his heart as he saw Austin, plung 
 ing both hands into the deep basin and throw 
 ing the water over his face, his throat, his 
 bosom. Poor Austin ! 
 
 325
 
 326 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 "What time is it?" 
 
 The young man wheeled round like light 
 ning, showing red eyes, a clouded^ace, disor 
 dered hair from which the water dripped. 
 
 " Ha ! you awake Guilford ? I feel like a 
 miserable dog this morning. You and I have 
 both overslept ourselves." 
 
 "It doesn't matter much ; after yesterday, I 
 think we ought to be excused to-day. The 
 woods party didn't agree with you, then." 
 
 "The champagne, you mean. I tell you 
 what, old fellow, the next tune they ask me 
 to take champagne, and I take it, they'll know 
 it, I guess." 
 
 " I knew it would hurt you," said Guilford. 
 
 "It made me a fool a miserable fool. 
 They all saw it, they all knew it ; I shall be 
 ashamed to show my face among them." 
 
 " What I was afraid of," said Guilford, "was 
 the influence of your example upon that old 
 man. I would not have drank before him, 
 not if wealth and even reputation had been at 
 etake. He did nobly, however ; his skill and
 
 THE COLONEL'S RESOLVE. 327 
 
 his science saved poor Merric ; I don't know 
 what the Colonel will do to show his grati 
 tude." 
 
 " Guilford Coit, I honor you," said Austin, 
 in his impulsive way ; " I'd give a thousand 
 dollars if I had your resolute will." 
 
 " Would you ? You can get it for nothing," 
 said Guilford, earnestly. 
 
 " O ! yes, I know what you mean, but I 
 don't believe it ; the principle must be planted 
 in the heart by nature." 
 
 " By grace," reiterated Guilford. 
 
 " Pshaw ! " and Austin turned away. w I 
 tell you it is in your nature to deny yourself 
 a thing that you think will injure you. By 
 nature, you can control yourself in every 
 respect better than I can, who am a creature 
 of impulse." 
 
 " So was I once," said Guilford. 
 
 " Never ! " you might as well tell me - the 
 moon was a cheese and expect me to believe 
 it, as expect me to believe that. The fact is, 
 you never knew yourself, Guilford, if you tell
 
 328 THE MILL AGENT'. 
 
 me that you are not naturally a self-reliant 
 and resolute man." 
 
 " All I am I owe to the grace of God," said 
 Guilford, resolutely. 
 
 K Guilford, you're enough to drive a saint 
 mad," said Austin. "You are under a delu 
 sion." 
 
 " O, my friend ! " exclaimed Guilford, and 
 along his voice ran a passionate entreaty, "how 
 applicable are the Saviour's words to your 
 case, 'and ye will not come to me that ye 
 may have life.' You say I am under a delu 
 sion, happy delusion, then, that makes me a 
 child of God and an heir of heaven. Blessed 
 delusion ! that enables me to put aside the sin 
 that easily besets me, and glory in denial ; 
 holy delusion ! that gives me longings for 
 purity, inside cleanliness, a nearness with my 
 Saviour, delight in prayer. O, Austin ! how 
 can you persist in staying away from God? " 
 There were tears in his very voice. 
 
 Guilford, after his morning devotions, hur 
 ried to Hager's room. She had been in great
 
 THE COLONEL'S RESOLVE. 329 
 
 pain, the nurse said, but was so patient ! The 
 fair young girl looked saintly as she lay there, 
 white, too weak even to reach her hand out to 
 the friend she loved so well, but still smiling, 
 still willing to suffer her appointed lot, still 
 looking up, in much faith, hoping and trusting. 
 It could not be called a sad sight, though it 
 was enough to affect one to tears. Neither was 
 it very sorrowful to know that the fabric in 
 the hands of the nurse was destined to wrap 
 the lovely limbs when they were clay-cold. 
 Guilford looked upon her as half angel al 
 ready. So sweet a resignation to the will of 
 God he had never seen before. 
 
 K It almost makes me cry to think how 
 kind everybody is," said Hager, large tears 
 shining round in her eyes. " Yesterday, Mrs. 
 Leffingwell sent me such beautiful bouquets, 
 oh, such beauties ! look at them. She sent 
 me jellies, too ; everybody is so kind ! " 
 
 " Everybody loves you, Hager ; do you feel 
 in low spirits this morning, darling ? " asked 
 Guilford, seeing a change pass over her face.
 
 330 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 " If it wasn't so hard for poor father," she 
 -quivered. 
 
 "We must pray to God that he may be 
 willing, my child ; that ho will give him con- 
 'solation in the thought that he will see you 
 again." 
 
 "If it might only, might only be ! " she said 
 with unusual emphasis, for her. " O, how I 
 pity father ! I was his poor little all," she 
 added, with such pathos, the tears running 
 down her face. Don't you see how changed 
 he is ? Don't you see how thin he grows ? 
 What can I do to make him happier? I can't 
 bear to feel that he is so unreconciled. Only 
 think ! nurse told me this morning about Mr. 
 Merric ; poor father ! it will only make him 
 worse ; ain't you afraid it will ? " 
 
 "He ought to be very thankful for every 
 blessed providence," said Guilford. 
 
 M Yes, so he ought ; but poor father ! poor 
 father ! " her words died away in a moan. 
 
 " Do coax her to take a little of this arrow 
 root," said the nurse, handing a small saucer.
 
 THE COLONEL'S RESOLVE. 331 
 
 "By and by, Mr. Coit, when I get over 
 this," said Hager, chokingly ; he had never 
 seen her so moved before. 
 
 "Now, Hager, now; it will do you good, 
 my darling." 
 
 She looked at him, her eyes implored, but 
 he was firm. She tasted the food, it strength 
 ened her. 
 
 " Talk to me about Jesus," she whispered. 
 "I shall be better by and by. The doctor 
 came very late ; he said it was almost certain 
 I should live over Sunday ; I know I shall." 
 
 So Guilford sat and talked till the hour for 
 work. She took his hand in her little white, 
 wasted fingers as she said, "how kind and 
 patient you are, Mr. Coit ! " 
 
 He could hardly answer except with a 
 smile and a loving pressure of the hand. 
 
 Going out he met the landlord, who stood, 
 bent and despairing, near the door of Hager's 
 room. 
 
 "Where's the justice of God, Mr. Coit?" 
 the latter cried, with a trembling voice, " that
 
 332 THE MILL -AGENT. 
 
 my one lamb should be taken and his left, not 
 his only one, either. Is Colonel Leffingwell 
 any better than I am ? " 
 
 Guilford recoiled a little. The question 
 had taken him by surprise. 
 
 " I say, where's justice, the justice ! " 
 whispered the man, more hoarsely. 
 
 " God only can answer," replied Guilford, 
 solemnly. 
 
 " But he wont ; " retorted the tavern keep 
 er. " O ! Mr. Coit, I wish you had never 
 come here, indeed I do ; somehow it seems 
 to be all wrapped up with you. You've drawn 
 her heart from her poor father, oh !" and he 
 broke down into a wild grief that would hear 
 no word and hurried from the hall. 
 
 It was very sad to Guilford, who was doing 
 all that mortal man might do for the comfort 
 of the child, for the good of all, and who 
 would willingly have borne the sharp thralls 
 of the bruised body to help that poor, pale 
 sufferer, but he comforted himself with the 
 thought that God knew all about it. That 
 was enough for him.
 
 THE COLONEL'S RESOLVE. 333 
 
 The next hour was a brighter one, for at 
 the door, sitting erect as ever on his noble 
 gray, was Colonel Leffingwell. 
 
 " Good morning," he said, in a subdued 
 voice, and as he dismounted he wrung Guil- 
 ford's hand, the ecstacy of gratitude made his 
 eyes shine. 
 
 "Lead my horse to the stable," he said to 
 the hostler. " Mr. Coit, I wish you would walk 
 a short distance with me ; never mind the 
 office ; you shan't go to the office to-day, sir, 
 no sir, not to-day. 
 
 " Mr. Coit," he continued, drawing the 
 young man's arm through his, " our Merric is 
 himself again, only a little weak, as is to be 
 expected, but bright as ever. Now, I've been 
 somewhat hard on you, because your religious 
 views didn't quite suit me, but I'm an altered 
 man, and I feel as if you had a right to my 
 endless gratitude. You want reforms here, 
 Mr. Coit, I've seen it for some time, and, I'm 
 not going to stand in your way. I shall shut 
 the bar up, to-morrow " Guilford gave a
 
 334 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 glad start w and after this I'm heart and hand 
 with you in all your good works. I may 
 even come to be a Christian, myself," he added, 
 hesitating a little. 
 
 " God grant it, sir," replied Guilford, with 
 animation. 
 
 They had walked rapidly, and were fast 
 nearing the little cottage where Sarah and 
 her father lived. 
 
 " I have have an errand here," said the Col 
 onel, * how prettily they have arranged things 
 about the place ! Come in for a moment, Mr. 
 Coit." 
 
 The sun shone redly on the painted floor, 
 through the little white curtains of spotted 
 muslin. Sarah was just preparing breakfast; 
 her father was drawing something on paper, 
 attached to a small frame. They were both 
 glad to receive their visitors, and apologized 
 for the lateness of their rising. 
 
 "Don't say a word," said the Colonel, look 
 ing at the fine white head of the old man, with 
 tears in his eyes.
 
 THE COLONEL'S KESOLVE. 335 
 
 w Young Mr. Leffingwell is getting along, 
 of course," said Mr. Church, laying aside his 
 implements. 
 
 " Thanks to you, my friend ; yes," returned 
 the Colonel, with much emotion. "Miss 
 Sarah " he added, " I can't make a long story 
 of it. You asked me once if I could sell this 
 house to you and take the pay in instalments. 
 My dear child, there are the deeds ; they are 
 made out in your father's name, present them 
 to him with my compliments ; the house is 
 yours with the land about it." 
 
 Sarah stood looking at the folded papers in 
 her hand ; the old man rose from his seat, 
 gazing at them as vaguely as she ; Guilford, 
 mute with astonishment, glad from his heart, 
 smiled at them all ; Sarah was the first to break 
 the silence. 
 
 w Did I understand " she began timidly. 
 
 " I must go now, Miss Sarah. Mr. Church, 
 good morning, sir," said the Colonel, abrupt 
 ly ; w come Coit, there's lots of business on 
 hand," and away went the Colonel purposely
 
 336 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 to avoid a scene, for he felt his own eyes 
 moist. 
 
 " Father, the house is ours," murmured 
 Sarah, in a bewildered way ; " the house ours, 
 and we not to pay a cent. O ! father, father ! 
 we are rich ! so rich ! " 
 
 " Let me see the papers, daughter," said 
 the old man, his hand trembling, his manner 
 fluttered. Yes, the fact was apparent, he was 
 once more a land owner, he had nobly earned 
 the endowment, but he did not think of that, 
 only to be grateful. 
 
 " Now," he said, and it seemed as if a youth 
 ful vigor had been infused into his frame, 
 * now I can walk erect again ; now I can take 
 my place among men ; now I can give my 
 time to my invention, and my dear girl, the 
 darling and comfort of my life shall not toil 
 and delve in the factory, in the midst of that 
 cruel machinery." 
 
 M Sarah," he said a few moments after, as 
 the young girl moved about like one in a 
 dream, " after all we owe it, under God, to
 
 THE COLOXEL'S RESOLVE. 337 
 
 that noble young fellow, our mill agent. I 
 am positive that no other person could have 
 the same influence over me, and where would 
 old drunken Church have been to-day, but 
 for him? Who would have called on the 
 trembling old dram-drinker to restore a 
 drowned man to consciousness? God bless 
 him." 
 
 Sarah said the words, "God bless him !" 
 after him, very softly, but why did her lip 
 quiver ? Ah ! her life's nobler lesson she had 
 yet to learn to sacrifice even her heart's love 
 if heaven required.
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 A NEW ORDER OF THINGS. 
 
 J HE hush of a new-born Sabbath broods 
 Vi^ in the air. The fields steeped in sun 
 shine look their gladness, the trees stand rich 
 fruited and the grain bends with its weight of 
 blessings. 
 
 Clifton Locks never saw such a revelation 
 as the coming hours will bring. The news 
 has gone far and wide, there is to be service, 
 real preaching in the great hall of the old 
 tavern. Everything is arranged, and Chris 
 tians who have heard the news for miles 
 around, will flock to the place. There is no 
 longer a bar in the Saint tavern. The child 
 Hager has prevailed, and the evil spirits are 
 thrown out, never to be reinstated. The 
 tavern-keeper has Become more quiet in his 
 grief, through the ministrations of little Hager.
 
 A NEW ORDER OF THINGS. 339 
 
 It may be he sees, dimly, God's hand in the 
 cloud. 
 
 There will be a great gathering at the 
 tavern. The gay beauties and the reckless 
 revellers of Clifton Locks, as they array them 
 selves for the appointed time, move with 
 quieter mien, and put aside their brighter col 
 ors. At every breakfast table the matter is 
 discussed. It is wondered if the Colonel will 
 be there ! how the Colonel will feel about it ; 
 if the Colonel will give any more great parties ? 
 if the dance will be turned into a prayer-meet 
 ing? etc., etc. 
 
 Meanwhile Hager seems stronger to-day 
 than at any other time during her illness. 
 Her whole being is irradiated with a beautiful 
 light, her folded hands are whiter than the 
 robes she wears, there is peace written upon 
 the calm, glad brow. Her mother has all 
 things in readiness, the snowy handkerchief, 
 the bright little shawl to throw over her white 
 dress, the slippers she wore at the last dance. 
 Beside them is an offering from Mary Leffing-
 
 340 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 well, of fair, bright flowers. She gave them 
 to Austin Grande that morning, saying, " they 
 arc for our Hager." He, as he received them, 
 stood a moment silent. 
 
 " After all," he whispered, " Guilford Coit 
 is a man ! " he meant much by that little 
 word. 
 
 " I wish there were more like him.'* 
 
 " I wish to heaven there were," he cried, al 
 most with passion, "though" he added, turn 
 ing aside, w he gains all hearts, and poor sin 
 ners like me must go begging for love. I 
 ought to hate him." 
 
 " Austin." He glanced up in that minute, 
 quicker than the lightning's flash, a revela 
 tion was given to him. I shall not say what 
 it was, but Austin Grande, the one great fear 
 of his heart removed, walked back to the 
 tavern on air. He was on the threshold of 
 Doubting Castle now, looking outward and 
 upward. 
 
 Meantime Guilford sat in the room with 
 Hager, whose beaming eyes, softened through
 
 A NEW ORDER OF THINGS. 341 
 
 absence of pain, deep with the light of love 
 and trust often- wandered to him. 
 
 Tristam Saint was there, watching every 
 sweet look of his child. He was still bitter 
 towards Guilford, for in the depth of his an 
 guish, he felt that he had taken his place in 
 the heart of the innocent girl. 
 
 " Father ! " said Hager, he came towards 
 her. 
 
 " Do you think if I got well it would make 
 you a Christian ? " 
 
 K I could not help it," half sobbed the man. 
 " I don't want you to die, little Hager." Hul- 
 da sighed and thought of the time he had said, 
 so impiously, "I wont give her up, even to 
 God." 
 
 " But father, I might not stay with you if I 
 got well." It was innocently spoken, but like 
 a flash came a conviction over the old man's 
 heart, as his eyes met those of the mill agent. 
 The latter started from his seat, looking out 
 of the window. " The people are coming," 
 he said ; " now be brave and calm, Hager."
 
 342 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 Yes, ill throngs along the beautiful roads of 
 Clifton Locks. The old and the young, the 
 virtuous and the vicious were there ; the 
 theme on every tongue the approaching ser 
 vices. It was something they had never 
 thought of in their worldly supineness and 
 frivolity ; preaching in that place. Dancing, 
 gaming, sporting, parading, all these were 
 familiar things, but preaching was a novelty, 
 and to many, nothing more. The minister 
 came early and was ushered into Hager's 
 room. He and Hager were father and child 
 in a moment. He was startled by the ex 
 treme etherialization of the saint-like creature. 
 His voice choked as he saw her lying there 
 in her mother's arms so white and patient, the 
 long, fair curls that Sarah had been twining 
 round her fingers pushed back from the 
 temples. 
 
 "Can you bear it?" he asked, "you look 
 very weak." 
 
 " But my heart is strong," was the sweet 
 reply. w Christ will fold me in his arms, just 
 as mother does now."
 
 A NEW ORDER OF THINGS. 343 
 
 "Here is a sermon," thought the good man, 
 "better than I shall preach." 
 
 In a large cushioned chair, near the ex 
 temporised pulpit, Hager was carefully seated. 
 The silence was broken by a low murmur, as 
 this last, greatest blessing filled her blue eyes 
 with tears of gratitude. Who could wonder 
 that even strong young men broke down, and 
 here and there could be heard an audible sob ? 
 To see her sitting there in her feebleness, the 
 light of a celestial atmosphere folding about 
 her, was it not enough to draw tears, even 
 from the most hardened eyes ? 
 
 Will it be thought strange if here I write 
 down the words of that sweet song, by Chris 
 tians sung wherever the word of light is 
 known ? For this was what they sang that 
 blessed morning. 
 
 " Go preach my gospel," saith the Lord, 
 
 Bid the whole earth my grace receive; 
 Explain to them my sacred word, 
 Bid them believe, obey and live. 
 
 " I'll make my great commission known; 
 
 And ye shall prove my gospel true, 
 By all the works that I have done, 
 And all the wonders ye shall do.
 
 344 THE MILL AGEKT. 
 
 " Go, heal the sick, go raise the dead, 
 
 Go cast out devils in my name : 
 Nor let my prophets be afraid 
 Tho' Greeks reproach and Jews blaspheme. 
 
 " While thus ye follow my commands 
 
 I'm with you till the world shall end; 
 All power is trusted to my hands, 
 I can destroy and can defend." 
 
 Those who were looking towards Hager 
 and they were not few, observed a singular 
 light play over her features, as the third verse 
 was given out, line by line. A smile, a lift 
 ing of the eyes, a suffusion that for one mo 
 ment made the cheeks crimson, then a gentle 
 sinking back as if the emotion had exhausted 
 her. 
 
 Then followed a dead silence. There was 
 communing with hearts, there was struggling 
 with conscience. Many made the honest re 
 solve to do better for the future. Tim Col 
 lins, the only support of his widowed mother, 
 who had been apparently going to destruction, 
 began from that holy day the work of reforma 
 tion. Nelly Hanfort, of whom ruin was pre 
 dicted, and, poor girl, she stood nearer to the
 
 A NEW ORDER OF THINGS. 345 
 
 brink than any one there even dreamed, saw 
 suddenly, the pit yawning beneath her feet, 
 and started back in time. One step more, 
 and I shudder to think of the thing she would 
 have been. Thank God ! that effort saved 
 her. A little group gathered about Hager, 
 who had waited till the minister came down. 
 He bent to her pale lips, lifted himself and 
 looked incredulous. 
 
 w Mr. Coit," she said, holding her hand out 
 to him, " let me tell you the good news, I 
 am going to get well. Are you glad?" 
 
 " He gazed at her much moved ; he could 
 not speak, could not dash her hopes, and yet, 
 could not believe. 
 
 " Do you remember," she asked softly, 
 " what that line in the hymn was, 
 
 ' Go heal the sick, go raise the dead,' 
 
 I lifted my heart in prayer, and I said, O, 
 Lord God ! if thou hast anything for me to 
 do, and if it will help my dear father to be 
 lieve, heal me. At that moment, a strange 
 strength came to me, I cannot describe it, it
 
 346 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 was something so new, and I felt then that 
 God would let me live to comfort my dear 
 mother and my dear father." 
 
 Here Tristam broke down with a loud cry, 
 and fell sobbing on his knees at her side. 
 
 w O, my lamb ! " said her mother, her face 
 beaming with holy joy, " am I so blessed as 
 to keep you a little longer ? " 
 
 But why attempt to express the delight and 
 awe that thrilled the assembly ? Kather give 
 glory to God, that he condescends sometimes 
 to display his power as in the olden time when 
 he caused the blind to see, the lame to walk, 
 and the deaf to hear his blessed gospel. The 
 wonderful news spread rapidly. Hager was 
 still weak, still passive in the hands of her 
 friends, but the surprise of the doctor when he 
 met her was very evident. Her pulse he said 
 had not been so strong for weeks, and he lis 
 tened as incredulously as others had to the 
 simple story of her faith." 
 
 There must be power in this religion if 
 what she says is not the phantasy of disease,"
 
 A NEW ORDER OF THINGS. 347 
 
 he whispered aside to Austin Grande, who 
 also wondered with the rest. " Hager is evi 
 dently a new being. I find the dangerous 
 symptoms are gone." 
 
 " It is wonderful," replied the other. 
 
 " Grande, there's something in all this I 
 can't understand, can you? " 
 
 "I confess my inability," replied Austin 
 Grande. 
 
 " God so loved the world that He gave His 
 only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth 
 in Him should not perish but have everlasting 
 life," said a deep voice near them. 
 
 It was Guilford Coit. 
 
 Both the doctor and Austin were silent. 
 Austin was evidently ill at ease and struggling 
 with pride. 
 
 " Come both of you into the service of the 
 Master," said Guilford after a solemn pause. 
 
 " Guilford, I am convinced," exclaimed 
 Austin, his stubbornness melting, "if there is 
 any hope for such a wretched doubter as I am, 
 pray for me."
 
 348 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 " Pray for yourself, my dear fellow," said 
 Guilford, tenderly. " He never casts out those 
 who come to him in brokenness of spirit ; he 
 is waiting to bless you now, pray for your 
 self." 
 
 " God helping me, I will," said Austin, 
 humbly, for now that he had made some little 
 advance towards a better life, his nature grew 
 less adamantine, he felt as if there were gen 
 tle influences surrounding him.
 
 CHAPTER XXH. 
 
 GOOD TIDINGS. 
 
 gjl / EADEE, my labor of love is ended. This 
 /^v story as may have occurred to you, is no 
 fiction, but the relation of events, which, 
 many of them, took place in a New England 
 village, and are still told with tears and 
 thanksgiving. Let me here give a letter from 
 Merric Leffingwell, while he was at college, 
 and preparing to graduate with deserved 
 honor. 
 " MY FRIEND GUILFOKD, 
 
 You know, of course, that I am almost through, 
 and ready for Clifton Locks. Dear Clifton Locks ! 
 How I long to see its hills and valleys once more ! 
 Your news of the great revival at the mills, rejoiced 
 my heart more than tongue can tell ; may the good 
 work spread ! 
 
 I was thinking the other night, over old times, 
 and little Hager, blessed little Hager ! What means 
 doth the Lord work ! Who would have thought that 
 the little, quiet creature, so retiring as almost to be 
 unnoticed, would have been honored with so dis 
 tinguished a part in this great reformation ? And how 
 almost miraculous her "restoration! I have often 
 thought of the similarity between our condition I, 
 
 349
 
 350 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 rescued from a watery grave, and brought to life when 
 apparently dead she taken from the very borders of 
 the tomb and led up to new health and a new experi 
 ence, through the mercy of God. 
 
 Above all things was I glad to hear that Tristam 
 Saint had given his heart to the Lord Jesus. He has 
 had a long and a hard discipline, but he will make all 
 the firmer Christian. 
 
 So old father Goldby has gone home? the dear 
 old man ! Who knows how much the great work may 
 be owing to his silent influence. Mary writes me that 
 old Mr. Church is likely to make a fortune with his 
 patent. I am very glad. Nor was I surprised to 
 hear the news about you and Hager. I wish you joy 
 of so sweet a bride. She was my boyish ideal of 
 beauty, but she never knew it, and that is all past. 
 I shall like Austin Grande for a brother-in-law, 
 famously. May your union and his be prosperous and 
 happy. 
 
 Think of the change ! Thank God for it ! Clifton 
 Locks regenerated ! It seems as if the very mill 
 stones must give thanks to God. I thank you for 
 the beautiful sketch of the town. Your church edifice 
 is everything that could be desired. Adieu, my friend, 
 my brother. In all my prayers be sure I shall ask an 
 especial blessing on you and Clifton Locks." 
 
 A PLEASANT ENDING. 
 
 Three years have passed. For that time, 
 till within two months, the wife of Colonel 
 Leffingwell has been in heaven. Now there 
 walks by his side one in whom we have all 
 felt an interest, Sarah Chuogh no longer, but
 
 A PLEASANT ENDING. 351 
 
 Sarah Leffingwell. The Colonel is a happy 
 man, and has lost nothing of that heartiness 
 of manner, that pleasant, gentlemanly" cour 
 tesy that so becomes the believer. He 
 works much more than he talks, and puts 
 his religion into everything. Hence he is a 
 fearless, upright man, scorning hypocrisy, a 
 terror to half-way Christians. It was with 
 Hager as she had so strangely prophesied. 
 Gradually her injuries were all healed, and 
 after months of protracted weakness, she 
 gladdened the hearts of those about her, by 
 moving around the room, pale and shadow- 
 like, yet like one raised from the dead; a 
 monument of God's gracious mercy. It was 
 
 in company with her parents, and with emo 
 tions too great for utterance, entered the 
 simple edifice, erected since her illness for 
 the worship of our Almighty Father. O ! to 
 look about her and see the happy faces, beam 
 ing with sacred light and to know that many 
 of them worshipped the Jesus she loved ; that 
 some were there who once loitered about the
 
 352 THE MILL AGENT. 
 
 bar room, profane and Christless, now restor 
 ed to the likeness of God, and singing his 
 praises ! 
 
 Guilford loved her at first as one might lovo 
 an angel, but as returning strength gave the 
 light back again into the " sweetest eyes were 
 ever seen," and invigorated the graceful frame, 
 he wooed and won her for his wife, attracted 
 more by her spiritual loveliness than her phy 
 sical beauty, which seemed doubly enhanced. 
 
 And here we leave Clifton Locks, a mighty 
 power in the Christian world. The place that 
 boasted that once it knew no church and no 
 Christ, has now more than five spires pointing 
 heavenward, five assemblies of worshipping 
 Christians who walk humbly before the Lord. 
 The little Sabbath School, for whose success 
 Hager wept and prayed, has multiplied ex 
 ceedingly, and her own sweet children, to 
 gether with a little Maud Mary Grande, hear 
 from her lips the story of her love for the Sun 
 day School, and hallow it with their childish 
 affection. 
 
 TO GOD BE ALL THE GLORY.
 
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