Boo^s BY 
 
 A KING'S DAUGHTER, $o 85 
 
 DISCONTENT. AND OTHER STORIES, - - 75 
 
 DIARY OF A COUNTRY PASTOR, .... 45 
 FAULT-FINDING AND MADELINE HASCALL'S 
 
 LETTER, '- 45 
 
 MEHETABEL. A STORY OF THE REVOLUTION, 75 
 
 ROSEDALE. A STORY OF SELF-DENIAL, - go
 
 THE 
 
 REVEREND DIDYMUS EGO, M,D, 
 
 OTHER STORIES 
 
 By MRS. H. C. GARDNER 
 
 NEW YORK: HUNT & EA TON 
 CINCINNA TI : CRANSTON & STOWE
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGES 
 
 THE REVEREND DIDYMUS EGO, M.D I 
 
 Miss PHILLISSA'S LETTERS 51 
 
 NATURAL HISTORY 139 
 
 " PROVOKING ONE ANOTHER TO LOVE AND GOOD 
 
 WORKS" 159 
 
 "A PATCH ON THE KNEE AND GLOVES ON" 189 
 
 SYMPATHY 235 
 
 GLIMPSES OF OUR LAKE REGION 287 
 
 222S.158
 
 THE 
 
 REVEREND DIDYMUS EGO, M. D. 
 
 Rev. Didymus Ego, M. D., was once a 
 small boy. Incredible as it may seem, he 
 was once the occupant of a cradle, and 
 delighted himself with the musical clamor of a 
 sixpenny rattle. Various incidents of his early 
 life are yet extant which not only confirm this, 
 but served in their day to foreshadow his future 
 greatness. 
 
 For instance, it is remembered that when he 
 first opened his mouth in baby lamentation it 
 was discovered by his admiring attendants that 
 he had been born with his / teeth cut. This 
 may explain the absence in after life of wisdom 
 teeth, the material for which had doubtless been 
 used up by these adventurous first-comers. But 
 it was not our happiness to know him till the 
 genius then in the bud had become fully ma- 
 tured, and, therefore, we will leave to abler pens 
 the pleasure of doing justice to his precocious
 
 2 The Reverend Didymus Ego, M. D. 
 
 youth, while we look with becoming reverence 
 upon his portrait as a man. 
 
 He was rather above the middle size, or, 
 rather, he seemed so from a peculiarity habitunl 
 to many little men of stretching the neck and 
 holding back the head like a Bantam rooster 
 when about to crow. At a short distance his 
 general aspect was dignified and imposing. His 
 forehead was low, and, if left to a state of na- 
 ture, would have been covered with a bushy 
 growth of hair, but being closely shaven every 
 morning, resembled, in its gradual narrow slope 
 from the covered part of the scalp to the bridge 
 of the nose, and also in its persistent display 
 of hair roots, a miniature walk up a gentle de- 
 clivity thickly graveled with black pepper. He 
 wore spectacles, blue ones, not from any need 
 of their aid, but to hide an obliquity of vision 
 that was somewhat embarrassing in general so- 
 ciety, every one supposing himself particularly 
 addressed, and all replying at once, and thus 
 nearly deafening each other. 
 
 The hirsute growth, defeated in its design of 
 sheltering the brow, avenged itself by shooting 
 out gigantic boles from cheeks and chin, that, 
 in their varying tints of red and brownish
 
 The Rmerend Didymus Ego, M. D. 3 
 
 yellow, reminded one of a gorgeous autumn 
 sunset. His mouth can best be described by 
 calling it a smile ; not the amused expression 
 that occasionally illumine the features of our 
 acquaintances, but a continuous smile of no 
 particular meaning, and of no particular use 
 unless its width and length aided respiration. 
 The slightly-hooked nose that leaned tenderly 
 over it, the eyes that engaged in business of 
 their own, held no communion with it ; even 
 the magisterial depth and solemnity of voice 
 that rolled through its very midst had no effect 
 whatever in the way of disturbing that wonder- 
 ful smile. 
 
 Do you know him ? Of course you do. 
 Every body knows him, and every body is indig- 
 nant if you hint that you never heard of him 
 before. 
 
 " Not know him ! " fairly shrieked an old lady, 
 a connection of his, when, before I saw him, I 
 vainly tried to recall him to my memory, " not 
 know the Reverend Ego ! Why you must be 
 green ! Where have you lived ? Did you not 
 hear of him when he was Professor of of of 
 Verdigris in Muddle University ? Not know 
 him indeed ! "
 
 4 The Reverend Didytnus Ego, M. D. 
 
 The Rev. Didymus Ego, M. D., was not one 
 of those careless laborers who, after sowing their 
 seed on the Sabbath, leave it to its own sweet 
 will ; neither did he calculate to wait many days 
 for the appearance of the bread cast upon the 
 waters. Speedy results were looked for. It was 
 his usual practice to spend Monday in looking 
 up those who might have been impressed under 
 his ministrations of the previous day. 
 
 " My friend," he would say, stopping some 
 spruce youth on the sidewalk, " did I not see 
 you in my congregation yesterday ? " If an- 
 swered in the negative, bursting sighs relieved 
 the heart of the preacher as he silently turned 
 away to lament the benighted condition of his 
 companion. An affirmative reply was sure to be 
 followed by the question : " Will you be so good, 
 my dear sir, as to specify what part of the ser- 
 mon was most interesting to you ? " 
 
 Now, it often unfortunately happened that 
 the simple youth had been more intent upon 
 deciding the exact shade of the sparkling brown 
 eyes so perversely hid under Miss Lucy's silk 
 eyelashes, or in noting the charming effect of 
 Miss Mary's new bonnet, than in following the 
 thread of the pulpit argument. It was curious,
 
 The Reverend Didymus Ego, M. D. 5 
 
 then, to observe the ingenuity with which he 
 would persuade the pastor that he was so de- 
 lighted with the entire sermon that it would be 
 sacrilege in his eyes to distinguish one part 
 above the rest. 
 
 The man of business when closely interro- 
 gated did not, of course, mention those schemes 
 for attaining wealth that the quietude of his Sab- 
 bath devotions presented in so clear an aspect, 
 neither was he disposed to depreciate any part 
 of the sermon by an undue exaltation of the 
 rest Like the younger hearer, he readily ad- 
 mitted the perfection of the whole. 
 
 Encouraged by these and other kindred trib- 
 utes to his genius, and feeling that he ought to 
 overcome his characteristic modesty and believe 
 more fully in his own talents, on Tuesday the 
 Reverend Ego was seen calling at the doors of 
 his ministerial brethren in the neighboring 
 towns. 
 
 " Ah, brother," he would say as soon as the 
 usual compliments were passed, "I hope you 
 had a good time in preaching last Sabbath. I 
 had unusual liberty and enlargement. I sup- 
 pose you have heard about the afternoon ser- 
 mon ? What do the people here say about it ?
 
 6 The Reverend Didymus Ego, M. D. 
 
 The person thus questioned knew very well 
 that his townsmen were quite in the dark as to 
 his brother's sermons or talents, but did not like 
 to insinuate so unwelcome a truth. 
 
 Evading the question he would reply : " I go 
 out very little, and much of the news so interest- 
 ing to most people fails to reach my study. I 
 presume that your sermon was an excellent one, 
 but I, shut up here with my books, have not 
 heard it mentioned. 
 
 " You lose a great deal, brother, by such seclu- 
 sion. How can you tell whether your labors 
 are appreciated while you hold yourself aloof 
 from the people during the week ? " 
 
 " That is of small consequence to me if I feel 
 the approving smile of God. Such* knowledge 
 might be dangerous for me. If my congrega- 
 tion were dissatisfied, I could hardly fail of be- 
 coming discouraged ; if they were pleased, I fear 
 I should not be proof against the whispers of 
 vanity. But you are mistaken in supposing 
 that I keep aloof from them. My afternoons are 
 devoted to pastoral labor, and are spent in go- 
 ing from house to house, for the purpose of 
 having religious conversation and prayer with 
 my people."
 
 The Reverend Didymus Ego, M. D. J 
 
 " But you study too much," the Reverend 
 Ego would urge, glad to leave the subject of 
 pastoral labor ; " it is a weariness to both soul 
 and body." 
 
 " True, but I cannot preach without it" 
 
 " Well, there are some who can't. I fear I 
 am not thankful enough for the ability to rely 
 on myself. Why, instead of coming before my 
 people worn out with study, I am as fresh as the 
 morning. I feel as the eagle may when he 
 spreads his strong pinions for an upward flight. 
 It is astonishing what can be done if full play 
 be given to a man's mental powers. But it 
 would not do, I suppose, for every one to at- 
 tempt it." 
 
 "I think not." 
 
 " I used to fear, brother," said Didymus in a 
 confidential tone, " that if I neglected books I 
 should somehow fall behind the times. I sup- 
 pose some one told me so, and I foolishly believed 
 it. As if the study of any book could compare 
 with the workings of the immortal mind that 
 my Maker gave me ! But for the last ten years 
 I have hardly studied at all, and I find no lack, 
 as yet, of power or knowledge. On the con- 
 trary, brother, when I stand up to preach I am
 
 8 The Reverend Didymus Ego, M. D. 
 
 as keen as a brier. Mind, I don't say that every 
 one could pursue my course and retain their hold 
 upon their congregation. I am inclined to think 
 they could not" 
 
 " I quite agree with you." 
 
 " Yes. And there are times when you would 
 pity me. When I see a multitude hanging upon 
 my lips for the bread of life, and picking up, as 
 it were, every crumb of truth, I realize the re- 
 sponsibility that rests upon me. The sight of 
 my eyes affects my heart. Strong men, six feet 
 high, weep like little children under my exhorta- 
 tions. Ah, Brother H., what am I, or what is my 
 father's house, that such talents should have been 
 committed to my charge ? Wonder not that 
 sometimes I am led to envy my ministerial breth- 
 ren. If they have but one talent, they have only 
 to account for one." 
 
 Brother H. drew a sigh of exceeding relief 
 when his visitor departed, and began turning 
 over the despised books with unusual rapidity, 
 soliloquizing the while in a strain that might 
 have convinced his late visitor of his ability to 
 talk extemporaneously. He looked as he felt, 
 both tired and vexed. 
 
 A light step was heard on the stairs, and a
 
 The Reverend Didymus Ego, M. D. 9 
 
 smiling face was directly beaming in at the study 
 door. It wore a roguish look ; for its owner, the 
 minister's wife, knew exactly how far his patience 
 had been tried. So with a smile she said, " Ned." 
 There was no reply, but she smiled again, and 
 the dim room lighted a little perforce. He knew 
 it, but he chose to nurse his disgust and vexation, 
 so he did not speak. 
 
 "Ah, Ned, it's of no use." The speaker 
 was at his side now, and still bent on ex- 
 orcising the evil spirit that had crept into the 
 snug room unawares. He looked up involun- 
 tarily; their eyes met, and both laughed long 
 and heartily. 
 
 " Ah, Ned," said his wife, " you need not 
 think to exclude me from your sanctum. Why, 
 you would have moped all day if I had not 
 hastened to the rescue." 
 
 " You are welcome at any time, Susy," he re- 
 plied, " but I do wish there was a law to exclude 
 jackasses." 
 
 An exchange of pulpits with some neighbor- 
 ing clergyman was an event of consequence to 
 the Reverend Ego. His satisfaction in hold- 
 ing forth to a new audience had but one 
 drawback. He felt sad that for one short Sab-
 
 io The Reverend Didymus Ego, M. D. 
 
 bath his own flock should be deprived of his 
 ministrations. 
 
 " For it is impossible," he often remarked to 
 his wife, " for a people who have become accus- 
 tomed to luxurious food to content themselves 
 with coarse, plain fare, be it ever so wholesome." 
 
 His wife, a weak little nonentity, one of those 
 women especially designed for the companion- 
 ship of the Ego race, never failed to sympathize 
 with him or to agree with him. 
 
 It was only a few weeks after his installment 
 in his eighth parish that he was invited to ex- 
 change with a minister whose church was lo- 
 cated in a fanning district two miles distant. 
 At first he hesitated. He had hardly had time 
 to fully acquaint his own people with the extent 
 of his gifts and graces ; for, impelled by a sense 
 of duty, he had spent the last fortnight in the 
 parish from which he had lately been dismissed, 
 visiting the people, and learning from their own 
 lips that they had passed without injury from 
 his supervision to that of his successor. 
 
 The most gratifying evidences of resignation 
 were shown in every quarter, and to his most 
 minute and searching inquiries but one cheer- 
 ing reply was given, and that expressive of
 
 The Reverend Dtdymns Ego, M. D. \ \ 
 
 intense satisfaction. Greatly edified by the 
 knowledge thus carefully gleaned, he had re- 
 turned to his new charge with redoubled resolu- 
 tion to exert all his talents in its service. 
 
 At the very outset he was met with this in- 
 vitation, to throw away an entire Sabbath on an 
 obscure country congregation. He was on the 
 point of declining at once, when the thought of 
 the admiration his oratory would command in 
 so retired a section made him hesitate anew. 
 He walked the room and argued the question 
 pro and con. Gradually his look and step re- 
 gained their wonted decision, and it was with 
 his mind fully made up that he approached the 
 table to pen an affirmative note. 
 
 " I will go !" he said ; " I am sure it will pay. 
 It will refresh me to behold the artless, unso- 
 phisticated delight of an audience so seldom 
 favored. The old proverb is a true one, ' It is 
 better to be the head of a hog than the tail of a 
 lion.' Besides, my own flock will learn to ap- 
 preciate me sooner if I leave them occasion- 
 ally. Now, I wonder what sort of a preacher 
 Brother Whipple is. If he had much talent he 
 would fill a more conspicuous place. That is 
 
 certain." 
 2
 
 1 2 The Reverend Didymus Ego, M. D. 
 
 Now it so happened that the preacher in ques- 
 tion was a liberally-educated man, distinguished 
 above his fellows by his fine intellectual powers. 
 Though scarcely thirty-two years of age, he had 
 won an enviable reputation as an author, as the 
 Reverend Ego would have known had he been 
 under the necessity of reading much. His 
 powers as a speaker made him a most accept- 
 able exchange in any of the neighboring pulpits, 
 and his hearers were only at a loss which to 
 admire the most, the sublimity and beauty of 
 his thoughts and language, or the graceful and 
 unaffected modesty of his deportment. Many 
 wealthy parishes had tried to tempt him from 
 his retired field of labor, offering him large sal- 
 aries and unbounded opportunities to secure 
 fame and influence; but his affections were 
 bound to the people of his first charge, and he 
 would not leave them. 
 
 As a matter of course the congregation to 
 which he preached was intelligent. They could 
 not help being instructed by his sermons. 
 Many of them' were wealthy farmers, who, 
 possessing a competence, had appropriated a 
 goodly share of their income to the education 
 of their families. Very few city congregations
 
 The Reverend Didymus Ego, M.D. 13 
 
 could boast of an equal number of refined and 
 appreciative hearers. 
 
 It was to such persons, accustomed to such 
 preaching, that the Reverend Ego consented to 
 speak for one Sabbath only. Pie rode over dur- 
 ing the previous week to request Mr. Whipple 
 to announce the exchange, so that none might 
 afterward regret having been absent from church. 
 But Mr. Whipple unfortunately forgot to make 
 the announcement till it was too late ; and, as it 
 did not strike him as being very important, he 
 made no unusual efforts to circulate information 
 in regard to it. His wife, more thoughtful than 
 himself in such matters, was careful to mention 
 it in the sewing society, so that before the Sab- 
 bath the proposed exchange had been duly pro- 
 claimed in the remotest corners of the parish. 
 
 The Sabbath came, fair and lovely, as cloud- 
 less and beautiful as if it had been made for 
 exchanges. The Reverend Ego arrived early. 
 Mr. Whipple, preferring a walk to the care of his 
 horse, had already left home, but Mrs. Whipple 
 was ready to receive him. 
 
 " This is rather a thinly settled region, ma'am," 
 he said as soon as he was seated comfortably. 
 " I suppose your congregation is rather small."
 
 14 The Reverend Didymus Ego, M. D. 
 
 " We think it quite respectable as to numbers, 
 considering the distance many have to come." 
 
 " How large is it ? " 
 
 " On pleasant days we have about a hundred 
 in the morning, in the afternoon twice that 
 number." 
 
 " Quite a difference. But then people will 
 not go all day unless they are particularly in- 
 terested. I have always been able to keep up 
 the interest of my hearers. After my first ser- 
 mon I have no difficulty. I make no special 
 effort, but somehow I succeed. You know, 
 ma'am, that some preachers have the faculty of 
 attracting the old and young. They don't seek 
 popularity, but they are always popular. Why, 
 I never find the slightest difficulty in filling a 
 house with attentive hearers." 
 
 " You are fortunate, indeed." 
 
 " But I am not elated. Far be it from me to 
 overvalue myself, or to sound my own praises. 
 I am naturally humble. By the way, allow me 
 to ask if our exchange was publicly given 
 out?" 
 
 " No, sir. Mr. Whipple forgot to mention it. 
 But it will make no difference," said the lady, 
 trying to soothe his evident discomfiture; "for,
 
 The Reverend Didymus Ego, M. D. 1 5 
 
 of course, the people will know it as soon as 
 they see you." 
 
 " Ma'am, it was to draw them out to fill up 
 the vacant pews that I desired them to be in- 
 formed of my coming." 
 
 Mrs. Whipple's amused look was a puzzle to 
 him, and so was the quiet manner in which she 
 replied : " I mentioned it in the sewing circle, 
 and I dare say it is generally known. But if 
 you have depended on a large morning congre- 
 gation I am afraid you will be disappointed. If 
 the angel Gabriel was expected our thrifty 
 farmers would attend to their chores before 
 hearing him. Mr. Whipple's forgetfulness will 
 really make no difference, sir." 
 
 He did not reply, and Mrs. Whipple ventured 
 to change the subject of conversation. " Have 
 you ever resided in this part of the country be- 
 fore coming to Newlington ?" 
 
 u No. I have lived in Massachusetts ; I am 
 a traveler, however, and have visited most of 
 the New England States." 
 
 " You find beautiful scenery in this region, I 
 suppose. We are charmed with the lovely and 
 varied views that are seen from every hill around 
 us. Indeed, every window of our house com-
 
 1 6 The Reverend Didymus Ego, M. D. 
 
 mamls a fine prospect. We never tire of it. My 
 husband often says that, like a faithful friend, 
 the landscape grows more delightful the more 
 he becomes acquainted with it. He prizes every 
 tree, and I think would mourn over the removal 
 of the smallest clump of rough bushes that grows 
 on the hill-side." 
 
 "You think the people generally understand 
 the arrangement for to-day ?" he asked anxiously. 
 
 " O, yes ! If they think about it at all, they 
 do." 
 
 " Ah, well, we will try to make the best 
 of it!" 
 
 He again relapsed into silence, from which 
 Mrs. Whipple made no effort to arouse him. 
 She had expected to accompany him to church, 
 but finding, on inquiry, that he was used to hot 
 Sunday dinners, and could not preach in the 
 afternoon without one, she concluded to stay 
 at home and prepare one with as little labor as 
 possible. 
 
 "I hope Henry will find out before he ex- 
 changes again whether I am to have the privi- 
 lege of keeping the Sabbath or not." This was 
 her first thought on being left to herself. Then 
 she thought of the probable size of the audience.
 
 The Reverend Didymus Ego, M. D. 17 
 
 with a nervous anxiety, as if herself accountable 
 for tardy comers. It was haying time, when 
 the out-door labors of the farmer are most ex- 
 hausting, and his inclination to rest on the 
 Sabbath is often too strong to permit his attend- 
 ance upon the ministry of the word. " It is 
 wrong, to be sure," mused Mrs. Whipple, "for 
 religion should be the primary interest ; but who 
 can help it ? Then O, dear ! " she suddenly 
 exclaimed aloud, " there is old Mrs. Mason's 
 funeral this morning. They are all spiritualists, 
 and the novelty will draw away half of our usual 
 audience." She would have been quite dis- 
 mayed by the discouraging prospect, but she 
 had no time to contemplate it. The dinner 
 was to be cooked. By a little hurrying she 
 soon had every thing in the kitchen progress- 
 ing favorably, and had quietly seated herself 
 with a book in her hand, when the door opened 
 and an invalid sister entered. 
 
 "Why, Linda!" said Mrs. Whipple, "is it 
 you ? What is the matter ? Are you ill ?" 
 
 " Yes, and bored to death. I have not been 
 able to come to church for six weeks, you 
 know;" and, made a little childish by long con- 
 tinued suffering, the poor girl burst into tears.
 
 1 8 The Reverend Didymus Ego, M. D. 
 
 " I wish I had stayed at home." she added ; 
 " why didn't you tell me who was coming to 
 preach ?" 
 
 " There, there," said Mrs. Whipple, soothing- 
 ly, "be quiet, Linda. You are too weak and 
 nervous to venture out. I wonder that mother 
 permitted it. Lie down on the sofa. Here is 
 some of mother's famous cordial. You will feel 
 better directly." 
 
 " I do already, I can breathe again. Tell me, 
 Eliza, who is this incubus that fills Henry's 
 place to-day?" 
 
 " Hush, hush, little sister. You shall speak 
 with more reverence or I will not talk with you." 
 
 " I can read your looks, Mrs. Decorum, you 
 like him as well as I do." 
 
 " I do not dislike him ; and, Linda, I hope it 
 was no silly prejudice that drove you out of 
 church." 
 
 " No. Don't look so grave. I was really ill. 
 And and he was unendurable too. He thinks 
 we are a set of fools. He was defining the 
 word navigation when I came out. Didn't I 
 wish that he was studying the science practi- 
 cally in mid ocean!" 
 
 " Now do stop talking, Linda. I am going
 
 The Reverend Didymns Ego, M. D. 1 9 
 
 down into the kitchen to see to the dinner. Try 
 to catch a nap while I am busy. Stop thinking 
 if you can, and shut your eyes. You are too 
 excitable." 
 
 " Excitable ! " repeated Linda, but her sister 
 had vanished down the stairs. Obliged to be 
 silent, she lay still, and soon a light slumber, 
 the effect of the cordial, stole over her senses. 
 She would soon have slept profoundly, but the 
 morning service was over, and the entrance of 
 the minister awakened her. 
 
 " Don't get up, Miss," he said as Linda started 
 to a sitting posture. " Don't get up on my ac- 
 count. I am not particular about a seat. Did 
 I not see you leave the church ? " 
 
 " I was not well, and was obliged to come 
 out." 
 
 " So I supposed. Are you better ? " 
 
 " Yes, I believe so." 
 
 " I hope you will be able to remain during 
 the sermon this afternoon. I have a subject 
 that will be interesting, and, I think, a novelty 
 here." 
 
 " I think I shall not be able to hear it." 
 
 " You find sickness a great cross, doubtless. 
 It must have been a trial to you to-day to inter-
 
 20 The Reverend Didymus Ego, M. D. 
 
 rupt a train of thought newly started. I think 
 you were obliged to leave in the middle of the 
 discourse. If you will tell me at what point of 
 the sermon you went out I will complete the 
 argument for you." 
 
 " O, no," said Linda, earnestly, " I could not 
 think of giving you the trouble." 
 
 " It is no trouble, Miss. It is a pleasure to 
 minister to the comfort of an invalid. I spend 
 my happiest hours by the bedsides of the sick, 
 repeating to them the sermons that they could 
 not otherwise hear, and often being able to add 
 to the results of their public delivery." 
 
 " Are there not a good many deaths in your 
 parish?" asked Linda. 
 
 " Linda ! Linda ! " called her sister from the 
 foot of the stairs. 
 
 " I am coming," she answered, springing up 
 with alacrity. 
 
 "You heard enough of my sermon, Miss," 
 said the Reverend Ego, " to judge of my seafar- 
 ing illustrations. A little remarkable, you will 
 call them, when I inform you that I was never 
 out of sight of land in my life." 
 
 " Possible ? Why, one would have thought 
 that your life had been spent on the ocean,
 
 Che Reverettd Didymus Ego, M. D. 2 1 
 
 and that this morning saw your first land- 
 ing." 
 
 "Linda! Linda!" again called her sister, 
 with a voice expressive of both mirth and vexa- 
 tion. Thus urged, Linda left the minister to his 
 own thoughts. 
 
 The number of carriages that drove into the 
 church inclosure during the noon recess con- 
 vinced the Reverend Ego that his fame was 
 already spreading. Forgetting Mrs. Whipple's 
 account of the afternoon worshipers, he almost 
 convulsed Linda at the table by saying, " A 
 goodly number seem to be on their way to the 
 sanctuary. I presume the few who were pres- 
 ent this morning have now made it known that 
 I 'am here." 
 
 More amused still was the nervous girl when, 
 after the close of the service in church, he re- 
 marked to her sister, " Tell your husband to 
 take courage, I have doubled the congregation. 
 A decided success ! He must try now to keep 
 up the interest. I will direct him, or I will ride 
 over myself and give an impulse to the work at 
 any time. A decided success, ma'am." 
 
 In spite of the Reverend Ego's unbounded 
 popularity, as evidenced by the Monday confes-
 
 22 The Reverend Didymus Egv, M. D. 
 
 sions of his audience, it so happened that before 
 he was fairly established in one parish he was 
 by some means ousted out of it into another, 
 and this before he had half exhibited his orator- 
 ical powers. No man ever inveighed more 
 stoutly or earnestly against an itinerant minis- 
 try ; yet, helpless as a fly in a cobweb, he was 
 perpetually itinerating. There were always 
 some unreasonable deacons or chief men who 
 insisted on a change of preachers in defiance 
 of the tearful remonstrances which, he was sure, 
 were uttered by the mass of his parishioners. 
 
 He was in the market nearly half of his time, 
 and expended incredible sums in the purchase 
 of daguerreotypes, to be distributed among his 
 disconsolate admirers in the various places 
 where he had labored. A sense of the heavy 
 losses sustained by these societies on account 
 of his removal at length so affected his mind 
 and depressed his spirits that he at last re- 
 solved, with tears, that if he was ejected from 
 Newlington he would give up preaching rather 
 than subject another people to such grievous 
 trials. 
 
 Acting on this resolution, it was scarcely 
 three months after the exchange before, by a
 
 TJie Reverend Didymus Ego, M. D. 23 
 
 natural transition, he ceased his ministrations 
 to the souls of his fellow-men and bethought 
 himself of the welfare of their perishing bodies. 
 He attended a course of medical lectures, pro- 
 cured a great quantity of bottles, boxes, and 
 drugs, and began at once to roll up pills and 
 concoct pukes with all the dignity of an experi- 
 enced physician. 
 
 As a doctor he did not give up the Rev. 
 prefix to his name ; but, by the imposing addi- 
 tion of M.D., secured a handle at both ends of 
 it. He was still ready to fill up the vacant 
 days incident to a new calling by occasional 
 flights into the ideal regions of the old. But 
 in the new profession he seemed to have found 
 the place for which nature designed him. In 
 no other way could he do so large a business 
 with so small a capital of knowledge. The 
 ability to decry other practitioners and to set 
 forth his own merits came as naturally to him 
 as if he had been born a doctor, and the won- 
 derful cures that he now recollected as having 
 been wrought by him when a mere child aided 
 him essentially in securing a place to commence 
 his practice. It was in a populous village, and 
 was favored with only one physician, an old
 
 24 The Reverend Didymus Ego, M. D. 
 
 man of long-established reputation for skill and 
 knowledge. Dr. Ego laughed at the idea of 
 this old man's maintaining a rivalry with him. 
 He mentally contrasted the reserved and some- 
 what haughty manner of the old doctor with his 
 own continuous smile and prominent I teeth, 
 and the old man dwindled to a mere mote in the 
 sunbeam. 
 
 Yet, as weeks and months rolled on, he was 
 obliged to confess to himself that the days spent 
 in riding to visit imaginary patients came oft- 
 ener than was agreeable, and that it was weari- 
 some thus to keep up a show of an extensive 
 practice. Very few cases of real sickness came 
 under his care. Those who believed in him, 
 and listened with interest to his accounts of his 
 former successes, seemed -to be endowed with 
 iron constitutions and were never ill. Even 
 those that he met in the village stores, and 
 kindly alarmed by feeling their pulse and ex- 
 amining their tongues, went straight to the 
 office of the old doctor and had their fears dis- 
 pelled immediately. 
 
 There were a few dear, considerate souls, 
 martyrs to the interests of science, who seemed 
 to be created for no other purpose than to test
 
 The Reverend Di'dymus Ego, M. D. 25 
 
 the value of every new medicine. None of the 
 various kinds advertised in the newspapers es- 
 caped their no ice, but each, as it appeared, was 
 faithfully tried and believed in. To such a new 
 doctor was a perfect godsend. No need now of 
 sending to distant cities for the newest style of 
 emetics, but drugs enough to nauseate the rest of 
 their existence were brought to their very doors. 
 
 Asa means of attracting attention to himself, 
 and thereby increasing his practice, Dr. Ego 
 began to accompany his wife to the sewing cir- 
 cles of the charitable societies of the village, 
 and to speak occasionally in the Lyceum meet- 
 ings of the young men. In the first, by a little 
 managing, he contrived to monopolize the con- 
 versation, and to confine it to the subject of 
 medical practice. Wonderful were the powers 
 of memory that he displayed on these occasions, 
 and wonderful also were the reminiscences of 
 the surgical skill of his youth that he repeated 
 for the entertainment of the ladies. 
 
 Early in the autumn it was proposed that a 
 course of lectures should be given at the Lyceum 
 hall. The clergymen, lawyers, and physicians 
 each received an invitation to give one lecture 
 of the course.
 
 26 The Reverend Didymus Ego, M. D. 
 
 Dr. Ego hesitated. " I should be glad to 
 oblige you," he sa'id to the young committee 
 who waited on him, "but 1 should have to give 
 you an extempore speech. I. have now many 
 patients, most of them desperately sick, and I 
 cannot command a moment's leisure. I have 
 thought of getting an assistant, for my health 
 really suffers under the constant demands of the 
 public, but I fear my patients are too much at- 
 tached to me to receive another in my place. 
 Nevertheless, it may be that a season of health 
 will soon be granted, and in that case I shall 
 be happy to give the last lecture of the course." 
 
 As none of the young men could call to mind 
 a single instance of illness among his acquaint- 
 ance, they were very little impressed by the 
 doctor's statement. 
 
 " Now, said he, after their departure, " now I 
 have got a chance to shine. I'll write a lecture 
 that will open their eyes. I have got three 
 months to do it. Oratory i., my forte, and 
 these worshipers of the old doctor shall find it 
 out." 
 
 "It is nothing but mortal sickness and re- 
 markable cures," said a young minister's wife to 
 a friend as they wended their way to the sewing
 
 The Reverend Didymus Ego, M.D. 27 
 
 circle. " I am sick of hearing the details of the 
 sick-room, and of his operations as a surgeon. 
 It was a positive relief to me last week when old 
 Jonas Ballon interrupted him with a description 
 of his method of cutting up and salting a hog." 
 
 " Well, we can't help it. We must bear it 
 patiently." 
 
 " Patiently ! I think your looks, Mrs. Grant, 
 usually express any thing but patience. And 
 in my creed patience is not an idiotic grace ; so, 
 for one, I intend to ignore its existence in this 
 case. If you will second me, there shall be 
 subjects discussed this evening that have no 
 connection with broken bones or colic." 
 
 " Agreed. But he will be in full blast before 
 we arrive. There is no chance if he begins first. 
 It is a pity that you were detained by that poor 
 woman, for I really believe, Mrs. Elliot, that you 
 would out-general him on a fair field." 
 
 "I will do it now. Pray don't laugh at me. 
 I will interrupt him as he dees us. I will talk 
 in concert with him if no other way will do. I 
 will break up his monopoly of our talking rights, 
 if I make him angry in downright earnest. 
 Hark ! " 
 
 The friends had reached the vestry door, 
 3
 
 28 The Reverend Didymus Ego, M. D. 
 
 where the society held their meeting. They 
 exchanged intelligent glances, and both laughed 
 as they recognized the nasal utterance of Dr. 
 Ego. He was reading aloud. 
 
 "Already intrenched," said Mrs. Grant, "and 
 fortified against a siege." 
 
 " Hush ! They will hear us. Let us enter 
 with becoming gravity." 
 
 Dr. Ego laid down his book as the ladies en- 
 tered. " You see, my dear Mrs. Elliot," he said, 
 " that I forget none of our rules. It was voted 
 at our last meeting that an hour of our time 
 should be spent in listening to the reading of 
 some valuable work, and I have brought in a 
 treatise on Anatomy for that purpose. If you 
 please, I will go on with it." 
 
 " Excuse me, sir. I was requested, you will 
 recollect, to select the book for this occasion. 
 Netty Lane, you are a fine reader, and it will 
 give us all pleasure if you will read to us." 
 
 Mrs. Elliot was the president of the society ; 
 and little Netty Lane, in her reverence for the 
 minister's lady, did not dream of offering any 
 opposition to her wishes. So she readily came 
 forward and took the book, and the ladies, with 
 a look of gratitude to Mrs. Elliot, turned with
 
 The Reverend Didymus Ego, M. D. 29 
 
 alacrity to listen to Lieutenant Lynch's account 
 of his visit to the Dead Sea. Not a whisper 
 interrupted the reading, and nothing but the 
 clipping of scissors, the snapping of sewing silk 
 or thread, was heard, save the sweet voice of 
 the young reader, till the allotted hour had 
 expired. 
 
 " A very interesting account," said Dr. Ego, 
 speaking before the book was fairly closed, " and 
 it treats of an interesting part of the world. To 
 be sure there is not so full a description of the 
 inhabitants of those regions as we could desire, 
 but if you please, ladies, I will add the neces- 
 sary information to this fine narrative. We will 
 begin with what is of vital importance to any 
 people ; namely, the diseases to which those 
 nations are subject. Now, in the first place, 
 we must take into consideration " 
 
 " Mrs. Clarke," said Mrs. Elliot, in a loud, 
 clear voice, " will you oblige me by matching 
 this striped gingham. You are a genius in such 
 matters." 
 
 " That in form, as well as color," pursued the 
 doctor, " the Orientals " 
 
 "Look, Mrs. Grant!" exclaimed Mis. Elliot. 
 ' Do come here, ladies."
 
 30 The Reverend Didymus Ego, M. D. 
 
 All crowded hastily around the table where 
 she stood, each one, with the quick percep- 
 tion of her sex, beginning to understand the 
 reason of these frequent interruptions, and to 
 enjoy them. It was only a bit of ordinary em- 
 broidery on a baby-sleeve that the lady ex- 
 hibited, but its pattern and finish elicited a 
 long discussion. 
 
 Mrs. Grant purposely opposed her friend, and 
 refused to see either beauty or fitness in the 
 article examined. It was a long time before 
 either lady would give up the contest of words, 
 and a full half hour elapsed before quietude 
 took the place of the apparent confusion. Then 
 an old lady, who had been knitting and taking 
 snuff, unmindful of the discord, inquired if Dr. 
 Ego attended little Johnny Loud, who had bro- 
 ken his leg. 
 
 "I was in to see him this morning," he re- 
 plied, evading her question. 
 
 "Well, doctor, how is the boy?" 
 
 " It's a bad case, ma'am. A very bad case." 
 
 " Why, you don't think he'll die, do you ?" 
 
 "Perhaps not. He has youth on his side. 
 Hut he will lose the limb. It was not properly 
 set at first."
 
 TJie Reverend Didymus Ego, M. D. 3 1 
 
 " Who set it ? " 
 
 " Old Dr. B. I was out of town unfortunate- 
 ly, and no doubt the old doctor did the best he 
 could. Surgery is too little understood by the 
 old school, and I fear that many operations are 
 performed at a venture. Now I have been told 
 that Dr. B. once actually set a woman's leg the 
 wrong side before, and that she has been obliged 
 to use it so ever since. It is a great pity, ma'am, 
 because an old doctor cannot afford to lose his 
 reputation for skill. I fear that Dr. B. will find 
 it difficult now to compete with younger and 
 better educated surgeons." 
 
 " I can relieve your fears in regard to him," 
 said Mrs. Grant. " Dr. B.'s surgical abilities 
 are too well known to be doubted. And it seems 
 to me that it must have been a miracle of skill 
 that enabled the poor woman to walk in two 
 opposite directions at the same time." 
 
 A chorus of laughter repaid Mrs. Grant for 
 her little attempt at sharpshooting ; but Dr. 
 Ego did not join in it. Turning to his first 
 questioner, he continued : "The little Loud boy, 
 ma'am, is in a critical state. The injury was 
 a simple fracture at first, but it has become in- 
 flamed by improper dressings, and will, doubt-
 
 32 The Reverend Didymus Ego, M. D. 
 
 less, mortify. I will explain to you all the 
 nature of the injury and the proper treatment 
 of such a case." 
 
 " O please don't," almost screamed a young 
 lady. " I had the horrors all night after our last 
 meeting. I dreamed of skeletons and small- 
 pox, and was really ill the next day. I am too 
 nervous to hear such things." 
 
 "You remind me," said the doctor, giving 
 up reluctantly his promised explanation, "you 
 remind me, Miss Caroline, of my wife's Cousin 
 Phebe- She stayed with us during the cholera 
 season, and I could hardly give Mrs. Ego a 
 description of a patient, but Phebe would be 
 directly attacked with corresponding symptoms. 
 Speaking of cholera, I had one case that was 
 almost too much for my skill. When I first saw 
 the patient I thought it a hopeless case. He 
 was in the last stage of the fatal malady. But 
 we physicians never despair while there is life, 
 and I began at once to take the proper measures 
 to restore him. I will tell you, Miss Caroline, 
 just how he was taken. On Monday let me 
 think yes, it was on Monday " 
 
 A loud rap on the table, Mrs. Elliot's signal 
 for silence, made him pause. " Several of our
 
 The Reverend Didymus Ego, M. D. 33 
 
 young ladies," she said, " have volunteered to 
 give us some music, which I am sure will be 
 agreeable to all. Mrs. Grant, your place is at 
 the melodeon." 
 
 A small melodeon had been purchased by the 
 society to relieve the tedium of their meetings, 
 and Mrs. Grant readily took her seat before the 
 instrument. 
 
 " Now, if you please," continued Mrs. Elliot, 
 as she saw the doctor opening his mouth to 
 proceed with his story, " we will not annoy our 
 kind musicians by the too common incivility of 
 talking while they are endeavoring to give us 
 pleasure." 
 
 The singing lasted a long time. The gentle- 
 men, who usually came to tea, began to drop in 
 one by one as the daylight faded, but many of 
 them were singers, and their coming only added 
 length as well as strength to the musical treat. 
 Only once did they pause, and then it was to 
 decide which of several pieces, solicited by the 
 company, should be first sung. Dr. Ego hasti- 
 ly availed himself of the short breathing spell. 
 "Have you seen the 'Daily News' for to-day, 
 Mr. Peyton ?" he asked. 
 
 " No. sir. The mail has not arrived."
 
 34 The Reverend Didymus Ego, M. D. 
 
 " Yesterday's paper had a sad account of a 
 murder, a poisoning case." 
 
 " I did not notice it." 
 
 " Strange how common such cases have be- 
 come. When I commenced my practice, not 
 one physician in a hundred was called to pre- 
 scribe for a case of real poisoning. Many of the 
 antidotes now in use were unknown, except to 
 a few fortunate ones. I was called once to visit 
 a woman who had been on bad terms with her 
 husband for some months, and who was taken 
 ill very suddenly. The moment I saw her I 
 suspected the truth." 
 
 " Did she die ?" asked several voices. 
 
 "No, indeed. She must have died, though, 
 if they had called in an inexperienced doctor. 
 It was as much as / could do to save her. 
 Her husband may thank me that he escaped 
 a halter. The way I treated her case was 
 this: I" 
 
 " Excuse me for interrupting you, Dr. Ego," 
 said Mrs. Elliot, " but our tea is ready, and some 
 of the ladies wish to go home early. Will you 
 oblige us by taking a seat at the table ? " 
 
 Mrs. Elliot felt sure now that the known 
 voracity of the doctor would effectually silence
 
 The Rei.>erend Didymus Ego, M. D. 35 
 
 his tongue for a season. She drew a long sigh 
 of relief, and abandoned herself to the enjoy- 
 ment of social intercourse. Her husband was 
 absent, attending the college commencement 
 of Brown University, and she anticipated the 
 grave looks with which he would strive to hide 
 his relish of her description of the afternoon's 
 warfare. " I am glad he was not here," she said 
 to herself. "With his exquisite sense of what 
 is due to courtesy, he would suffer tortures 
 rather than meet Dr. Ego on his own ground. 
 4 Ah ! Mary,' he will say to me, ' how could 
 you be so impolite ?' But he will like it in his 
 heart, I am sure. There ! my doctor has fin- 
 ished his supper at last. He has kept us wait- 
 ing only ten minutes. See, Mrs. Grant," she 
 said as that lady approached, " our ogre has 
 picked his teeth with his penknife, and sucked 
 the knife as usual, a sure prelude to an avalanche 
 of discourse. What shall I do?" 
 
 " As Mr. Elliot is absent, why don't you dis- 
 miss the society from the table? Let the girls 
 attend to the dishes and room, and you and I 
 will go to the Lyceum." 
 
 " A capital plan, Mrs. Grant ; I will do so." 
 There was quite a bustle attendant upon the
 
 36 The Reverend Didymus Ego, M. D. 
 
 breaking up of the party. Some were searching 
 lor stray shawls and overshoes, and some just 
 then remembered various messages to different 
 individuals with which they had been especially 
 charged, and hurried hither and thither on their 
 various errands, in every stage of confusion. 
 
 " Look at poor Mr. Peyton, Mrs. Elliot," said 
 Mrs. Grant as they left the vestry together. 
 " He is an old man, but it seems that age is no 
 security." 
 
 The poor old man stood on the sidewalk, look- 
 ing longingly in the direction of his home, but 
 tightly held by the buttonhole, and listening 
 perforce to one of Dr. Ego's wonderful cures. 
 
 " Mr. Peyton," said Mrs. Elliot, " are you go- 
 ing directly home ? I want to send a message 
 by you to Louisa." 
 
 " I shall be happy to oblige you, ma'am." 
 
 "Just a moment, Mr. Peyton, if you please," 
 said Dr. Ego, still holding him tightly ; " I was 
 saying that the difference between a chronic 
 and" 
 
 "I am obliged to hurry, Mr. Peyton," said 
 Mrs. Elliot, " and think, on the whole, that I 
 will run in a moment and see Louisa if you will 
 go with me. I am not used to the turnings
 
 The Rmcrend Didymus Ego, M.D. 37 
 
 and corners of your street, you know. Come, 
 Dr. Ego will be willing to excuse you when a 
 lady requires your services." 
 
 So saying she hurried him away, leaving Dr. 
 Ego standing alone on the sidewalk. 
 
 " I wonder whether those ladies are friendly 
 to me or not," he mused as he stood watching 
 them. " I congratulated myself on having a 
 fair field this afternoon. I knew that Mr. Elliot 
 and the old doctor were both out of town, and 
 that no one would be present who could begin 
 to compete with me in conversational powers. 
 But somehow I have a feeling as if I had been 
 overreached as if I had been outwitted. What 
 with the work, and the music, and the quarrel- 
 ing of those two ladies, the time has been near- 
 ly lost to me. But I gave the old doctor a hit, 
 if I did nothing else. There were some present 
 who did not laugh at Mrs. Grant's impudent 
 speech. And all that he loses I gain." 
 
 It was with unfeigned delight that the Rev- 
 erend Didymus Ego, M. D., accepted a call to 
 act with the other professional men of the 
 village as a visiting school committee. It is a 
 question whether the people "away out West" 
 know what constitutes the duty of such a com-
 
 38 The Reverend Didymus Ego, M. D. 
 
 mittee in many of our New England towns. 
 " Where ignorance is bliss, 'tis folly to be wise ; " 
 and yet the writer of this veracious sketch has 
 a great desire to enlighten the world on this 
 very matter. 
 
 In the first place, the committee are expected 
 to overhaul those presuming persons who imag- 
 ine themselves qualified to teach school, and to 
 lower them a peg or two in their own estima- 
 tion. For this purpose they are taken to some 
 by-place, secure from interruption, where the 
 chairman of the committee, acting as judge, and 
 the rest as a jury, the trial commences. Div- 
 ing deep into various books unknown to either 
 party, there are questions asked and answers 
 elicited that astonish the whole company. For 
 hours this intelligent catechising goes on till 
 the most conscientious of the committee is per- 
 fectly satisfied, and also till the most learned 
 of the young aspirants is utterly confounded. 
 Yet, in credit to the good nature of both judge 
 anJ jury, it must be conceded that when the 
 season of mystification is fairly over, they are 
 usually ready to bestow upon each of the would- 
 be pedagogues the paper credentials authorizing 
 him to teach.
 
 The Reverend Didymus Ego, M. D. 39 
 
 The teachers being disposed of, it next be- 
 comes the duty of the committee to aggravate 
 the parents of the district scholars to the great- 
 est possible extent, by forbidding the use of the 
 text-books that were introduced during the last 
 quarter and insisting on the purchase of new 
 ones. The first, having just been procured at 
 great expense and inconvenience by many of 
 the parents, and being uninjured, do seem to 
 those old fogies to be just as good as new. For 
 a few days the district is in a state of rebellion, 
 but the committee do not flinch. The teacher 
 is forbidden to use any book save those now 
 recommended ; and, as the idea of rearing their 
 children without the advantages of a school 
 education is not to be thought of, the innova- 
 tion is at last submitted to, other necessary 
 family expenses are retrenched in order to buy 
 the new books, and peace is restored to the dis- 
 trict till the beginning of the next term renews 
 the grievance. 
 
 All these duties seemed to be a sort of second 
 nature to Dr. Ego. Viewed in a medical light, 
 in their true aspect as chronic plagues, the com- 
 mittee were useful as counter-irritants in quiet- 
 ing the inflammatory dispositions and obstinate
 
 4O The Reverend Didymus Ego, M. D. 
 
 wills of the district. But the especial glory of 
 the doctor was in visiting the schools, and, for 
 a dollar a visit, confounding the pupils and dis- 
 couraging the teacher. No gentleman of the 
 committee was so faithful in this respect to the 
 interests of education. 
 
 It was his custom at every visit to propound 
 some question to a particular class, to be an- 
 swered at his next coming. Sometimes the 
 whole school were allowed to exercise their wits 
 in the discovery of the right answer. 
 
 On one occasion he promised a reward to a 
 class of six little boys, about four years of age, 
 if they would learn from their parents the sig- 
 nification of M. D. 
 
 There was a class of young men in the school 
 who occupied a corner by themselves, and whose 
 studies were not connected with the rest. One 
 of these, a droll, waggish fellow, no sooner heard 
 the prize offered than he began to turn over in 
 his own mind a plan to prevent those innocent 
 children from becoming the doctor's walking 
 advertisements. During the school recess he 
 was seen in a remote corner of the playground, 
 with the six little boys grouped around him, 
 each with his hands full of nuts and candy, and
 
 The Reverend Didymus Ego, M. D. 41 
 
 with his eyes fixed on the serious face of the 
 young man. 
 
 " What are you up to now, Ned ?" asked one 
 of his class-mates, approaching them curiously. 
 
 " I ? O, I'm treating these younkers. You 
 see I hav'n't forgotten the days when I loved 
 the goodies." 
 
 "Those days were quite recent, Ned, if we 
 can judge by the usual stuffed condition of your 
 pockets. But you have some scheme afoot 
 now. What is it? Say, Benny, what has he 
 been telling you ?" 
 
 Benny did not speak, but drew his lips to- 
 gether as if afraid he should. " They are sworn 
 to secresy. You see," said Ned, gravely, " I 
 am helping them to get the prize." 
 
 " Indeed ! " 
 
 " Yes. Look here, little boys. Attention all ! 
 Come here again to-morrow, and we'll go over 
 the lesson till you can say it. But mind, now, 
 don't ask your parents. I'll be a father to every 
 one of you till you get the prize, and if the 
 doctor backs out I'll buy you something hand- 
 some." 
 
 Each day, till the day of the doctor's regular 
 visit, was Ned's recess devoted to treating and
 
 42 The Reverend Didymus Ego, M. D. 
 
 helping the little fellows ; but, like all genuine 
 merit, his had the grace of diffidence, and he 
 exacted from each of his little proteges a promise 
 to conceal his agency in the matter. 
 
 " Let him think your parents helped you," he 
 said. 
 
 " I don't believe my mammy would know if I 
 asked her," said one bright little fellow. 
 
 "Very likely. Our fathers and mothers went 
 to school before a great many things were found 
 out. Now, if the doctor comes " 
 
 " I seed him go into school just now," inter- 
 rupted Benny. 
 
 " Did you ? Well, then, remember that when 
 he calls your class and puts the question, you 
 mustn't wait for him to speak to each of you, 
 but Benny must speak first, then Tom, and so 
 on through the class without waiting a minute. 
 My! wont he say you're the smartest boys in 
 school?" 
 
 Cheered by their young teacher's manifest 
 delight in their performance, the little boys hur- 
 ried in at the sound of the bell, impatient to dis- 
 play their knowledge. An opportunity was soon 
 given them, for only two classes in geography 
 recited before Dr. Ego called them forward.
 
 The Reverend Didymus Ego, M.D. 43 
 
 They obeyed, with radiant smiles and sparkling 
 eyes, stealing sly glances of anticipated triumph 
 at Ned, who was too much absorbed in a diffi- 
 cult problem to notice them. 
 
 " Now, my fine fellows," said the doctor, smil- 
 ing encouragingly, " I judge from your looks 
 that you have not forgotten to learn the mean- 
 ing of the abbreviation I gave you." 
 
 "No, sir," eagerly answered Benny; "we 
 knows them all." 
 
 " You all know it, you mean. Well, my boy, 
 you can answer first, and then the next, unless 
 your teacher has accustomed you to answer in 
 concert. How is it, Mr. Morton ?" 
 
 The teacher colored and hesitated. " I hope 
 you will excuse me, but really, sir, .1 have not 
 once thought of the question you gave them." 
 
 A frown contracted the doctor's forehead, but 
 a glance at the happy expectant little faces be- 
 fore him relieved him. " I am glad," he said, in 
 his loftiest manner, "that their parents were 
 more thoughtful than their teacher. Listen, 
 children. What do the letters M. D. signify?" 
 
 " Much Dirt," said Benny. 
 
 " Musical Donkey," said Tom instantly. 
 
 " Mud Diluted," " Monkey Dear," " Mule Doc-
 
 44 The Reverend Didymus Ego, M. D, 
 
 tor," " Mighty Dromedary," repeated the rest in 
 quick succession, each response being given in 
 a louder tone than its predecessor. It would be 
 quite useless to attempt to depict the doctor's 
 looks as he listened to the ready answers of the 
 children. The teacher and the older pupils 
 burst into hysterical laughter. Ned had dropped 
 his pencil, and was searching for it on the floor 
 under his desk, but his face was as grave as the 
 doctor's when he arose. The children who were 
 too young to understand the cause of the merri- 
 ment joined loudly in the laughter, and the six 
 little boys who had acquitted themselves so 
 handsomely chuckled outright at what they 
 took for the spontaneous applause of the whole 
 school. 
 
 " Silence !" commanded the doctor, in a voice 
 of thunder. At a loss how to vent his angry 
 embarrassment, he turned to the teacher. " This 
 is a pretty proof of your ability to teach, sir. 
 It will be remembered." 
 
 " Believe me, sir," said the teacher respect- 
 fully, " I knew nothing of this." 
 
 " A likely story. It will be remembered, sir." 
 
 Mr. Morton strove hard to speak with his 
 usual seriousness as he tried to justify himself.
 
 The Reverend Didymus Ego, M. D. 45 
 
 " It was really as unexpected to me as to your- 
 self. I am very sorry." 
 
 "You look sorry," said the exasperated doc- 
 tor as he saw the rebellious smiles still playing 
 about the teacher's mouth. " It will be remem- 
 bered, sir." 
 
 " Please to question the little boys. You will 
 find I had nothing to do with it." 
 
 "I shall do no such thing," said the visitor, 
 angrily drawing on his gloves and taking his 
 hat to leave. 
 
 " Benny," said Mr. Morton, " did I teach you 
 to answer the doctor's question ? " 
 
 " No, sir." . 
 
 "Who did?" 
 
 " We promised not to tell, because " 
 
 "Because what?" roared the doctor as the 
 boy hesitated. " Speak, you young rascal." 
 
 " Because," said Benny, "he was afraid you'd 
 hire him for a teacher if you found out how 
 much he knew." 
 
 Smothered laughter in all directions now 
 threatened another outbreak. 
 
 " You'll get no prizes," said the doctor, short- 
 ly. He held up six little paper-covered picture 
 books.
 
 46 The Reverend Didymus Ego, M. D. 
 
 " Please, sir," said little Benny, boldly, " he's 
 got some for us bigger than them, and full of 
 pictures." 
 
 " Be silent, boy. How dare you answer back ? 
 Mr. Morton, I recommend a little attention to 
 the manners of your pupils. I shall leave this 
 school to be visited by the other gentlemen of 
 the committee. If the children make less prog- 
 ress it will be no fault of mine. Good day." 
 
 Hiding his annoyance under a look of pomp- 
 ous dignity, he bowed himself out, only regain- 
 ing his complacency on receiving an unusually 
 low and respectful bow from Ned, who opened 
 the door for him. " The only well-behaved lad 
 in the school," he said to himself as he walked 
 away. 
 
 It was a long time before any thing like order 
 was restored to the school. The restrained 
 mirth burst forth before the visitor was fairly 
 out of sight, and now Ned joined in it heartily. 
 The sly looks of his companions and the occa- 
 sional glances of the teacher toward his desk 
 showed that his agency in the matter was sus- 
 pected, but no reproving eyes were turned upon 
 him. The scene had been too thoroughly en- 
 joyed to admit of censure.
 
 The Reverend Didymns Ego, M. D. 47 
 
 An unusually large crowd filled the Lyceum 
 Hall on the evening appointed for Dr. Ego's 
 lecture. There may have been various reasons 
 for the gathering of so large an audience, but 
 from the whisperings and smothered laughter 
 that, for half an hour previous to the lecturer's 
 appearance, filled the apartment, it may be in- 
 ferred that a love of fun had its share in drawing 
 the people together. 
 
 A sudden hush fell upon the entire assembly, 
 however, as the doctor entered by a side door 
 and very slowly walked to the speaker's plat- 
 form. Although it was a warm evening he 
 wore a long, loose cloak, which added much to 
 the imposing dignity of his appearance. With 
 becoming deliberation he sat down, and for ten 
 or fifteen minutes surveyed the audience with 
 the indifferent air that distinguishes the accus- 
 tomed speaker. 
 
 At last he signified to the president his readi- 
 ness to begin, and was by him introduced in 
 due form to his hearers. His theme was " Pro- 
 gression." It was evident, before he had fin- 
 ished his introductory remarks, that if his lecture 
 were not the crowning effort of the season it 
 was not because of any paucity in the English
 
 48 The Reverend Didymus Ego, M. D. 
 
 language. Middle-aged men and women opened 
 their mouths in unfeigned astonishment as un- 
 intelligible adjectives and nouns fell upon their 
 ears, and a young man who was studying law 
 left the hall in despair, only venturing to return 
 after securing a copy of Webster's Unabridged. 
 
 Mischievous boys, gathering courage from 
 the expressive countenances of their seniors, 
 mimicked his pompous manner and familiar 
 smile, and cheered with enthusiasm whenever 
 an unusually heavy word was uttered. A stran- 
 ger would have supposed, from the interest they 
 manifested, that the entire youth of the village 
 were embryo Ciceros. 
 
 It was a long lecture, lasting nearly two 
 hours, and wearying the patjence of the " oldest 
 inhabitant." But at last, when the most long- 
 suffering persons in the hall were contemplating 
 the propriety of "going out during meeting," 
 the doctor announced the peroration, and each 
 one settled himself hopefully to endure the final 
 effort. 
 
 "In conclusion," remarked the orator, "let 
 me refer to the different humanitarian institu- 
 tions of the day. I am not speaking incogi- 
 tantly when I affirm that these are the legitimate
 
 The Reverend Didymus Ego, M. D. 49 
 
 fruits of Progression. It has always been held 
 as an inconcussible argument that Progression 
 includes civilized benevolence. In vain may 
 the proud opposer strive to infuscate the sub- 
 ject ; it gleams in defiance of his efforts. Look 
 at the Bible cause ! Is there one in this audi- 
 ence whose heart has not been fringed with the 
 plumes of this fair bird of paradise ? Behold 
 the tract enterprise, scattering its leaves of 
 truth throughout the world ! Like a molting 
 angel, it flies through mid-heaven shedding its 
 feathers upon the nations. Ah, my dear hear- 
 ers, it is such Progression that levigates the 
 rough edges of our carnal nature and trans- 
 forms us into profound mysteriarchs. I might 
 mention our lunatic asylums ; palatial homes, 
 where the intellect may recover from its painful 
 aberrations homes sacred to superior minds 
 alone. To such a home does your speaker often 
 look forward with painful emotions, with natural 
 dread. Turn we irom tne thrilling picture to 
 our institutions of learning. There the human 
 mind, after long wandering in the mazes of igno- 
 rance, is at last redintegrated. Years ago, a 
 boy, distinguished even then for precocious 
 genius, entered the classic halls of a distant
 
 5<3 Tlie Reverend Didymus Ego, M. D, 
 
 University. I was about to give you a practical 
 illustration of the benefits of education even in 
 such a case, but you might consider me egotist- 
 ical. Modesty forbids that I should dwell upon 
 his progress in ancient and modern lore. Of 
 his merits as a profound metaphysician and 
 orator you may well judge for yourselves, for he 
 stands before you. 
 
 "I need not ask that this subject may fall 
 with due ponderosity upon every heart. Let 
 the weak and timid take courage. Let the 
 strong increase in strength. Let Progression 
 be our watchword, till this Lyceum, the germ of 
 whose progress has been so anxiously watched 
 by your speaker, shall become the encyclopedia 
 of the universe.' ?
 
 MISS PHILLISSA'S LETTERS.
 
 Miss Phillissas Letters. 
 
 MISS PHILLISSA'S LETTERS. 
 
 MERTOWN, June 10. 
 
 'OU were right, my dear Kate. If years 
 of patient effort and compliance with 
 every whim of my brother's are powerless 
 to subdue his spirit of domination and con- 
 tradiction, other methods must be tried or the 
 man will be unendurable. 
 
 It is true that I have become somewhat 
 habituated to his contrary spirit, and if the 
 dear girls were to be always here to divide the 
 care of him with' me I should find it easier to 
 submit to his dictation than to assert my rights ; 
 but there are glimpses of a matrimonial future 
 opening before each of them, and I tremble 
 when 1 think of being left alone to " beard the 
 lion in his den." Another reason for attempt- 
 ing his reform is that my disposition is losing 
 its natural serenity, as any temper short of a 
 glorified saint's must do here. 
 
 His irritable temperament is acquired. It is
 
 Miss Pkillissa's Letters. 53 
 
 not constitutional. From whom could he in- 
 herit it ? Our mother was an angel of sweet- 
 ness, and our father was a kind-hearted, agree- 
 able man, with the manners of the old polite 
 school, which, if a little ceremonious, were at 
 least provocative only of good feeling. I am 
 a branch of the family tree, and of all things 
 in this world, I do abominate contention and 
 quarreling. 
 
 My brother has been most pleasantly situated 
 all the days of his life. Till his marriage he 
 was never suspected of possessing those arbi- 
 trary, intolerant traits, and to his wife belongs 
 the credit of developing them. If she had not 
 been the weakest of all women I could find it 
 in my heart to reproach her even in her grave. 
 What right had she to degrade the dignity of a 
 wife to the position of a menial ? 
 
 All day long she made it her chief business 
 to find out his likings and dislikings, and to 
 humor the same. Very likely she lay awake 
 half the night that she might contrive means 
 of giving him pleasure. It is to me an in- 
 scrutable mystery how such women become, 
 wedded to such men. Of course, it did not 
 take long to bring out the selfish helplessness
 
 54 Miss Phillissas Letters. 
 
 of his nature and to develop the full-fledged 
 domestic tyrant. 
 
 I remember my amazement on one of my 
 visits here when, on going down stairs one 
 night at a late hour to fill my water-pitcher, I 
 found him reclining in an easy-chair reading 
 a newspaper, smoking a big, dirty pipe, and 
 she, poor, tired wife, who had groveled in spirit 
 before him all day, was refreshing herself by 
 washing his feet. They had been married three 
 years then. You can picture for yourself her 
 after martyrdom. 
 
 What was peculiarly aggravating in the case 
 was the fact that neither of them ever doubted 
 that he was a pattern husband. If I should 
 go down to his room this morning after all the 
 past and say to him, " Clem, you were a heart- 
 less tyrant to poor little Paulina," he would 
 think I had lost my senses. 
 
 As the children came, one after another, to 
 add to her cares and labors, it never occurred 
 to her or to him that any one of her unreason- 
 able attentions to him could be dropped. If it 
 had she would never, with her yielding temper, 
 have been able to emancipate herself. People 
 used to think it strange that she was not
 
 Miss Phillissas Letters. 55 
 
 oftener seen in church, and that she never 
 went into society, and my brother used to tell 
 her that she ought to go out more, especially 
 to church, for the sake of the example ; but I 
 spent two Sundays at their house when Clar- 
 ence and Josiah were babies, and I only won- 
 dered that she ever went out at all. When the 
 scarlet fever took the twin boys away she was 
 too heartbroken to go out, and then Cora was 
 born not long after. 
 
 But about those Sundays. In the first place, 
 my brother is very particular about his Sunday 
 dinners, and, although they were never then, 
 and are never now, cooked to suit him, he eats 
 as reverently as if it were a part of the religious 
 observance of the day. Paulina used to get up 
 very early in order to superintend the prepara- 
 tions for this devout meal, and the twins used 
 to insist on early rising too. The breakfast 
 must be personally attended to, the deluded 
 woman fancying that she understood his tastes 
 and preferences better than the kitchen-girl. 
 Perhaps she did, but I suspect that they were 
 past finding out, even by himself. It was a 
 late breakfast, because the 'Squire must have 
 his morning nap on Sunday, the day being
 
 56 Miss Phillissas Letters. 
 
 appointed for man to rest in. It was church 
 time when the meal was over, and then she 
 had to get the 'Squire ready. 
 
 " Here, wife, while I am reading a chapter in 
 the Bible you may put a clean collar on roe 
 and brush my hair. Tie the cravat loose. You 
 always forget that unless I remind you." 
 " Yes, dear." 
 
 " And take these slippers up stairs and bring 
 my boots. But first fetch my pipe. I can 
 smoke while I am reading." 
 
 " What a curious way to 'tend prayer ! " I 
 said involuntarily, but in an undertone fortu- 
 nately. Both babies beginning to cry, my 
 speech was unheard. 
 
 "Paulina, how often must I tell you that 
 nothing annoys me so much as the crying of 
 babies. Can't you keep them still ? The to- 
 bacco, if you please." 
 
 " In a minute, dear. There is a pin pricking 
 Clarence." 
 
 " Do you not see that it is nearly time for 
 the bell ? " 
 
 "Yes, love, I am hurrying. There, baby 
 darling, let mamma go." 
 
 " My overcoat needs brushing ; you will find
 
 Miss Phillissas Letters. 57 
 
 it in the hall. And one of the buttons is near- 
 *y off. You can just fasten it with a stitch if 
 it is Sunday." 
 
 Do you wonder Paulina died ? Even upon 
 her death-bed her chief care seemed to be to 
 extract a promise from somebody to wait upon 
 him. I am glad I was not here. To soothe 
 her I should have promised all she wished, and 
 so have bound myself over, soul and body, to 
 slavery. 
 
 Yet, knowing all this, I have tried what con- 
 solation and a yielding spirit might do ; but I 
 have not submitted to wash and dress a great, 
 fat man, who has muscular power enough to 
 groom forty horses daily. Why should I ? 
 
 God has fashioned me slenderly, delicately, 
 but not weakly enough in body or mind. In- 
 tellectually I am my brother's superior, though 
 he is ignorant of that fact. I was not created 
 just to minister to his gratification, to humor 
 his whims, but to render to him all true, sister- 
 ly, womanly service. 
 
 How well I remember the morning after my 
 arrival here ! My parting with you, dearest 
 Kate, seemed like cutting myself off from all 
 that was enjoyable in life. To whom should I
 
 58 Miss Phillissas Letters. 
 
 go for daily, nay, hourly sympathy in all my 
 joys or sorrows ! I scarcely looked out of the 
 car window all the way, but gave myself up to 
 the pleasure of making myself miserable. After 
 taking so much pains to become dissatisfied I" 
 rather astonished myself by having a good 
 night's sleep and awaking in the best of spirits 
 the next morning. My opinion of the extent 
 of my sacrifice changed considerably as I opened 
 my window and looked out upon one of the 
 most delightful views in the world. You know 
 how entirely it differs from our tame inland 
 town. I thought then, and I have learned 
 since that I was not mistaken, that one could 
 not be wholly without happiness in such a 
 country. 
 
 I had forgotten myself and my anticipated 
 troubles when I was roused from my reverie by 
 a voice beneath the window. 
 
 " I say ! Don't you know her, Fred ? I do. 
 That is, I know her name. She has been cran- 
 ing her long neck out of the window by spells 
 ever since sunrise. She belongs down east 
 somewhere, and she is an old maid. What 
 she finds to look at so much I really don't 
 know."
 
 Miss Phillissa's Letters. 59 
 
 " The bay, perhaps. It is worth looking at. 
 And if she comes from any inland place, Bob, 
 the shipping off the harbor must be a novel 
 sight. I like people who take notice of things." 
 
 " Then you will like her. She has got the 
 bump for observing. She wouldn't be the 
 'Squire's sister otherwise. The faculty runs in 
 the family, I expect." 
 
 " Well, Bob, I fancy she will not prohibit 
 your visits to little Miss Maggie till the child 
 is several years older. So you need not hate 
 her in advance." 
 
 " That is nonsense, Fred. But I do wish 
 the old maid had kept away. Her name is 
 Phillissa. Nigger name, anyhow." 
 
 I started from my seat by the window and 
 leaned to look out at the speakers. They were, 
 as I learned soon afterward, the son and nephew 
 of a near neighbor of my brother's. Both of 
 them were great, awkward boys, somewhere 
 about twenty years of age. In a city they 
 would have been young men already used to 
 society, perhaps tired of it ; but they were 
 country boys here. 
 
 The youngest one, Bob, had described me 
 very well. I did belong down east, and my
 
 6o Miss Phillissas Letters. 
 
 name was Phillissa. I was an old maid, and I 
 had a habit of " craning my long neck " to 
 observe whatever was passing around me. But 
 I thought that a married woman, not from 
 down east, with a short neck and a pretty 
 name, might be well excused for particularly 
 noticing the prospect before me. 
 
 The beautiful village was laid out in the form 
 of a crescent fronting the sea. Behind it there 
 were hundreds of soft green hills or bluffs ris- 
 ing one above another and fairly shutting it in 
 from the rest of the world. There were houses 
 scattered here and there upon the tops of these 
 lovely eminences. On one of these stood my 
 brother's dwelling, and it was so situated as to 
 command a view of the whole. The " attic of 
 the village," I had christened it, remembering 
 Sidney Smith's quaint cognomen for Edin- 
 burgh : " The Garret of the World." 
 
 I laughed outright at the embarrassment of 
 my youthful critics as I " craned my long neck" 
 out of the window to observe them. The oldest 
 blushed like a girl, and the youngest stam- 
 mered, by way of apology, " I thought you had 
 gone down- stairs to your breakfast. I heard 
 the bell."
 
 Miss Phillissa's Letters. 61 
 
 " Did you ? Well, / didn't hear it. Thank 
 you for telling me." 
 
 I was about to close the window when the 
 boy spoke again. 
 
 "I say!" 
 
 " Well." 
 
 " I didn't mean any thing wrong you know." 
 
 I laughingly accepted the implied apology 
 and bade him good morning. That was six 
 years ago. 
 
 Six years ! What a tiny lapse of time to look 
 back upon ! and yet six years to come seems to 
 stretch far into the future. Six years since my 
 brother sent for me to be his housekeeper and 
 help him educate his motherless girls. He.lp 
 him, indeed ! I have had to do it all. 
 
 Bob is Lieutenant Robert Newleigh now. 
 He has been in the army, and has a scar on 
 his face which it is difficult to see with the 
 naked eye, and another on his arm which looks 
 to me like the place where he was vaccinated. 
 As I write I hear his voice in lively conversa- 
 tion with my pet, Maggie, who is at work in the 
 parlor below me. He is pretending to help her, 
 but I am quite sure that unless Leonore, my 
 pattern niece, shall be inspired by their united
 
 62 Miss Phillissas Letters. 
 
 shiftlessness to take the brush into her own 
 hands, the carpet will remain unswept and the 
 furniture undusted. 
 
 Hark ! It is my brother's voice calling me. 
 There is something or somebody at fault when 
 he calls like that. 
 
 "Yes, I am coming," I answer, adding as 
 an admonition to myself to avoid unnecessary 
 hurry, " I shall come when I get ready." 
 
 I laid down my pen rather peevishly at the 
 close of the last sentence. But my brother did 
 not detain me long. 
 
 " Phillissa," said he the moment I appeared, 
 " I want to know who makes my bed." 
 
 " One of the girls, I don't know which. Cora 
 made it yesterday." 
 
 " Then I desire you to instruct my daughters 
 in bed-making. Just look at this," throwing 
 open his bedroom door. " Here's a hollow, and 
 there's a hump, and nobody knows how long 
 there has been a slit in that pillow-case. It is 
 perfectly scandalous. There are five women in 
 the house, and such a bed as that! I never 
 slept a wink last night." 
 
 " That is not strange, Clement. Your snor- 
 ing disturbed me a good deal, and there is this
 
 Miss Phillissa' s LeUers. 63 
 
 wide corridor between our rooms. How could 
 you expect to sleep with such terrific noises 
 coming out of your own head?" 
 
 This was quite a new style of reply from me, 
 and my brother dropped his spectacles from his 
 forehead to his nose to look at me. 
 
 "Phillissa" I can give you no idea of his 
 solemn air and tone " Phillissa, do you not 
 know that the chief ornament of a woman is 
 humility?" 
 
 " There is a difference," I said, " between 
 humility and humiliation humility, that sweet 
 and gracious feeling, the twin sister of peace, 
 and humiliation, the essence of undeserved 
 shame, and wrong, and helplessness." 
 
 Before he had time to reply I backed into 
 my room and shut the door. I should like to 
 see the bed that he would not find fault with. 
 Every woman in the house has tried in vairi to 
 suit him. There is nothing in my Bible against 
 his making it himself. 
 
 Cora is in the kitchen learning to make pud- 
 dings and pies. She is my oldest niece, and is 
 engaged to a clergyman who has not yet com- 
 manded a salary sufficient for his own support. 
 This fact puts the wedding-day far in the fu-
 
 64 Miss Pliillissa's Betters. 
 
 ture, but as "distance lends enchantment to 
 the view," she is very happy. She is singing 
 hymns over her work. What a sweet voice 
 it is ! She will be the light of the minister's 
 dwelling when he gets her. 
 
 Whew ! what a dust ! Bob is beating the 
 door-mats against the piazza pillars in spite 
 of Maggie's laughing remonstrances, and the 
 wind just blows the dust back into the house. 
 So, remembering the "long ago" and Bob's 
 unflattering comments, I proceed to "crane 
 my long neck out of the window" and bear a 
 testimony. 
 
 "Bob!" 
 
 " Ma'am." 
 
 "Miss Phillissa is here, sir the Squire's 
 sister from down east. She is an old maid, 
 and has the faculty of observing." 
 
 Though so long a time had passed since he 
 had thus described me, and the dear boy had 
 served three years in the army, and had been 
 in I don't know how many battles, he remem- 
 bered it all instantly, and astonished Maggie by 
 coloring rosily and offering the old apology, " I 
 didn't mean any thing wrong, Aunt 'Lissa." 
 
 " No, I suppose not. But what has become
 
 Miss Phillissa's Letters. 65 
 
 of your cousin, Robert ? Do you get no tidings 
 of him?" 
 
 " Nothing reliable ; only contradictory rumors 
 which are got up no one knows how, and are 
 circulated by no one knows whom. I can't tell 
 you how much time and money I have spent 
 since the war closed in chasing these shadows 
 with the vain hope of tracing him." 
 
 " Papa says there can be little doubt that he 
 died at Andersonville," said Maggie. " I think 
 he is right. The wonder is that any body lived 
 to get out of that horrid pen. Do you remem- 
 ber, Bob, when we read of the black hole at 
 Calcutta and I fainted away? I was a little 
 girl then, but I should faint now at the thought 
 of Andersonville, only the idea of it makes me 
 so indignant I can't. It is lucky that the 
 abominable rebels have not got to be sentenced 
 by me. Nothing short of the positive annihila- 
 tion of the whole set would relieve me in the 
 least. Poor Fred ! he must have been tempted 
 to believe there was no God, or that he had for- 
 gotten them." 
 
 Maggie did not look at all like fainting away 
 as she spoke, but her eyes flashed and her 
 cheek crimsoned. Robert dropped the mats,
 
 66 Miss Phillissas Letters. 
 
 and began to walk rapidly up and down the 
 short path to the front gate. 
 
 "Aunt 'Lissa" he had learned to call me 
 aunt from Maggie " I would give every thing I 
 possess for any reliable news of Fred. I went 
 all over that miserable burying-place, but if he 
 sleeps there there is nothing to trace him by. 
 Do you ever see Jack Gushing ? " 
 
 " I do," said Maggie. " He is first mate of 
 the Isabella now. Why, Bob, didn't you know 
 that when he was at home the year you went 
 away he was here ever so often ?" 
 
 " No, I did not." 
 
 Robert looked slightly aggrieved that he 
 should have been kept in ignorance of any of 
 the family doings. Maggie noticed it and con- 
 tinued : 
 
 " He was here last evening. Aunt 'Lissa did 
 not see him. She was writing in ner room. 
 O, he is a splendid fellow! I wish you could 
 hear him describe the countries he has visited. 
 And he brought me the prettiest India scarf!" 
 added the little coquette. 
 
 " I was going to tell Aunt 'Lissa," pursued 
 Robert, gravely, "that I saw Jack Gushing, and 
 he told me that he saw in New York last week
 
 Miss Phillissas Letters. 67 
 
 a soldier who was a fellow-prisoner of Fred's. 
 He told him that my cousin escaped from 
 Andersonville nearly two months before he 
 was released, but in so weak a condition that 
 it is doubtful whether he reached any place of 
 safety." 
 
 " He may be living yet, Robert," I answered, 
 hopefully. 
 
 " I have been so often disappointed that I 
 dare not hope. I wish I could find that soldier. 
 Jack did not ask for his address." 
 
 " Are you going away again, Bob ? " asked 
 Maggie in a low voice. She was already re- 
 penting of her attempt to excite his jealousy. 
 
 " Yes. I shall try to follow up this clew." 
 
 " How long will you be away?" 
 
 " I cannot tell." 
 
 "Bob!" 
 
 " Yes, Maggie." 
 
 " I want to tell you something." 
 
 " Yes ; what is it ? " 
 
 The color came and went in her cheek, and 
 lie was obliged to repeat his question. 
 
 "It is only that Jack comes here to see 
 Leonore." 
 
 Did you ever know an old maid who had not
 
 68 Miss Phillissas Letters. 
 
 a lively interest in the love affairs of their 
 nieces ? I am no exception to the general 
 rule. 
 
 But I must stop writing and go down to 
 superintend the dinner. I do not expect to suit 
 the 'Squire, but I begin to feel hungry myself. 
 Let me hear from you as soon as possible or I 
 shall be tempted to reply to my own letter, just 
 to open the way for another. 
 
 Affectionately, PHILLISSA BROWN. 
 
 MERTOWN, June 28. 
 
 I consider it particularly kind of you, my dear 
 friend, to assure me that my letters afford you 
 real pleasure. I know that nothing could in- 
 duce you to utter an untruth, and so I am suit- 
 ably encouraged by your sympathy in my per- 
 plexities, and your approbation of my feeble at- 
 tempts to tame the 'Squire. 
 
 I have had a new source of anxiety lately. 
 It has been in regard to the evident loves of 
 Margie and Robert. His political opinions dif- 
 fer entirely from my brother's, and he does not 
 hesitate to state and defend them. There has 
 been a good deal of warm talk on both sides. 
 
 Do not understand that my brother is decid-
 
 Miss Phillissas Letters. 69 
 
 edly opposed to the Government, but that he 
 shows a wonderful acuteness in picking flaws in 
 its administration. Indeed, he seems to agree 
 with its principles as well as with any thing, and 
 would doubtless defend it with all of Robert's 
 enthusiasm if the young fellow was on the side 
 of the opposition. 
 
 Maggie has seconded my efforts to keep them 
 apart, and whenever Robert comes in to spend 
 the evening she surprises him by remembering 
 some engagement which necessitates a long 
 walk and his attendance. I mention his name 
 as seldom as possible, and will you believe that 
 this reticence on my part is likely to help on 
 the course of true love ? It is even so, for it 
 has put into my wise brother's head that I dis- 
 like the boy, and the dear man has spent half 
 his leisure for a week in recounting for my 
 benefit all the good traits that Robert ever 
 exhibited. 
 
 To keep him in this state of mind, I, on my 
 part, rack my memory and cross-question the 
 neighbors to gather such particulars of his mis- 
 chievous childhood, and the short-comings of his 
 youth as shall enable me to take the negative. 
 Between us a pretty memoir of the lad's life is
 
 70 Miss Phillissas Letters. 
 
 got up, and every day gives birth to a new 
 edition, improved and enlarged. 
 
 Last evening I was in danger of spoiling it 
 all by showing the amusement I could not help 
 feeling. To avert this I introduced a neighbor 
 upon the scene, not bodily, but by representa- 
 tion. It was a rainy evening, and, what is un- 
 common, only our family were in the sitting- 
 room, and every thing was favorable for a little 
 neighborly backbiting. 
 
 Our neighbor is a good woman that the 
 'Squire cordially dislikes in spite of her worth, 
 and really I don't see how he can help it. It is 
 simply owing to one trait of character, but that 
 one trait makes up the woman. It is what 
 phrenologists call secretiveness. Now, we 
 should not quarrel with this trait if it were not 
 forever thrust in our faces. She takes the ut- 
 most pains to conceal from us little unimportant 
 trifles which we should consider it a decided 
 bore to be obliged to know, such as the cost of 
 her Samuel's trousers, or what 'Felix went to 
 Boston for, or how much her husband made on 
 that last trade. 
 
 If it were not for the guard that she sets 
 around these absurd matters we should never
 
 P/iillissa's Letters. j\ 
 
 bestow a thought on them ; but one cannot see 
 her without knowing that she has something in 
 charge which she will die sooner than reveal. 
 
 " Mrs. Lander came in just now to borrow 
 some milk," said Leonore, coming in from the 
 kitchen. " Their cow has strayed away, and it 
 is too rainy to go in search of her." 
 
 " Did she tell you all that ? " inquired Cora. 
 
 " No, indeed ; but Ann heard Samuel tell his 
 father." 
 
 " I don't like people who are so private about 
 nothing," remarked Maggie. 
 
 " Nor I," added Cora. " I feel all in a trem- 
 ble for fear that I shall find them out." 
 
 " If they only had something worth finding ; 
 if, for instance, the family had done something 
 that it was ashamed of it would seem more sen- 
 sible. If Felix were a thief, and Samuel a mur- 
 derer, and the old man had burnt somebody's 
 house down, they would have something worth 
 concealing. Don't you think so, Aunt 'Lissa ? " 
 
 My brother laid down his newspaper to hear 
 my reply. 
 
 " There is another aspect," I said, " in which 
 this foolish secrecy presents itself to my mind. 
 It destroys confidence. You cannot feel a cor-
 
 72 Miss PhUlissa's Letters. 
 
 dial friendship for a person who thinks it neces- 
 sary to keep such simple affairs from your 
 knowledge. It shows a want of trust in you." 
 
 " Every body has a right to keep their own 
 secrets, I should hope," remarked the 'Squire. 
 
 "Yes, an undoubted right. But have you 
 never noticed that in keeping their secrets they 
 lose their friends ? Little neighborly inquiries 
 in regard to a person's health and prosperity 
 come up as naturally to our lips as our breath, 
 and when we get snubbed on these we back out 
 of the field." 
 
 " I have no patience with female curiosity," 
 said my brother, beginning to warm up. 
 
 " Men being destitute of . that quality," I put 
 in as a parenthesis. " I wonder who to-day 
 declared himself willing to give ten dollars to 
 nnd out what Dr. Tingley gave for his horse." 
 
 " That is different. The doctor don't mean 
 to let any one know, and " 
 
 " Every body has a right to keep their own 
 secrets. That is your doctrine, remember." 
 
 " But you women are impatient if the smallest 
 affairs are hidden from your prying." 
 
 "Because it is their insignificance which 
 makes the grievance. Little things force them-
 
 Miss Phillissa's Letters. 73 
 
 selves upon our notice when they are made 
 important enough to be kept from our knowl- 
 edge. There is not a person in Mertown who 
 cares to know any thing about the family in 
 question, but Mrs. Lander is never off guard for 
 a minute." 
 
 " Better so," rejoined my brother, " better so 
 than to be like a sieve which contains nothing." 
 
 " Secrecy, my dear girls," I continued, without 
 replying to him, " secrecy is at best a suspicious 
 virtue. A pure life does not need to shun ex- 
 amination. It requires no effort to trust in the 
 open, frank nature whose utterances seem to 
 spring spontaneously from the heart. Frank- 
 ness has its inconveniences, and there are many 
 base enough to abuse it ; but it has the merit of 
 honesty, and it is better to live in a glass house 
 than to be skulking round in dark corners, like 
 mice in a pantry." 
 
 "Ah, that reminds me," said the 'Squire, 
 who seemed to experience immense relief as he 
 saw his way clear to a legitimate subject of 
 fault-finding, "that reminds me of the mouse- 
 trap in the store-room. Nobody takes care of 
 it. It is either improperly set or it is not set 
 at all. If a mouse should chance to get caught
 
 74 Miss Phillissa s Letters. 
 
 which never happens it might dry up at its 
 leisure, for no one would trouble themselves to 
 take it out. The consequence is that mice have 
 the run of the house. What other vermin we 
 are harboring I don't pretend to know." 
 
 I was embroidering a cover for his easy chair, 
 and, instead of replying, began to count the 
 stitches of the pattern aloud. 
 
 " One, two, three, yes, three of purple, six of 
 green ; and, let me see, this brown has so many 
 shades that it is nearly impossible to count it 
 correctly." 
 
 " Phillissa," cried my brother in a voice which 
 reminded me of his own youthful declamations 
 of Cicero's orations, " Phillissa, will you attend 
 to that trap ? " 
 
 " I don't understand it. Yes, nine of dark- 
 brown, and " 
 
 " I wish you would attend to me." 
 
 " I heard what you said." 
 
 ' There is nothing easier than to set a mouse- 
 trap. It would scarcely occupy five minutes in 
 a day." 
 
 " If it is such a trifle and you understand it, 
 you had better take the charge of it. You have 
 more leisure than any of us."
 
 'Miss Phillissa's Letters. 75 
 
 " Hem ! It is not my business, I hope, to 
 have the care of such things." 
 
 " But you do have the care, it seems, and the 
 trifling labor will be a small addition. I am 
 afraid of mice." 
 
 Having now brought him to a theme in which 
 he delights namely, the weakness and cow- 
 ardice of my sex I withdrew from the field, 
 and let him have it all his own way for the 
 rest of the evening. He would have been bet- 
 ter pleased with a little contradiction, because 
 it would have given to his tirade the semblance 
 of arguing, which is more dignified than scold- 
 ing ; but it is the hardest work in the world for 
 me to contend. I suppose it would be more 
 sinful to lie, but it would be more agreeable. 
 
 It is nearly midnight, and my pen begins to 
 lag, so I will bid you good-night, and wait till 
 to-morrow evening to finish my letter. 
 
 June 29. This has been a lovely day, though 
 a little too warm to be enjoyable. One could 
 not look out upon the fresh green of the mead- 
 ows and hills, and behold the blue sky serenely 
 smiling over the bluer sea without adoring the 
 Infinite Wisdom which " hath made every thing 
 beautiful in his time." And yet I came very
 
 76 Miss Phillissas Letters. 
 
 near spoiling the whole day by allowing myself 
 to get unduly excited over a trifle of as little 
 real consequence as a dry leaf floating by on 
 the wind. Besides, it is a grievance of daily 
 occurrence, and I ought to be accustomed to it. 
 But it seemed so hard, when the birds were 
 singing and the day shining so gloriously, to 
 listen to my brother's growling comments on 
 his breakfast, and to behold his vigorous appro- 
 priation of its dainties. 
 
 I am thankful that I had the sense to attempt 
 no reply, though any number of stinging rejoin- 
 ders were quivering on the end of my tongue. 
 When he tasted the fragrant Mocha and de- 
 clared that water was infinitely preferable to such 
 slops, I only answered by pouring out a goblet 
 of cold water and handing it to him. This did 
 not prevent his drinking four large cups of the 
 coffee. 
 
 Robert was here all the afternoon. He leaves 
 home to-morrow to make one more tour in 
 search of his cousin. He has waited a fortnight 
 hoping to discover Fred's fellow- prisoner ; but, 
 although he has advertised in all the principal 
 New York papers, and made inquiries by letter, 
 he has heard nothing from him. He is not very
 
 Miss Phillissa's Letters. jj 
 
 hopeful, but he cannot rest while any means are 
 left untried. And Jack Gushing has gone again. 
 He has spent so short a time here that I have 
 scarcely seen him. He has changed his ship 
 but not his employers, and is now bound for 
 China. Leonore and her father went to New- 
 York to see him off. He will be gone a long 
 time ; at least, two years seems a long time to 
 look forward to, and when he comes home again 
 there will be a wedding. 
 
 As I think over the changes of life and the 
 possible events of the two years of waiting, I 
 wonder at Leonore's cheerful words and man- 
 ners. It is the good God who has given to 
 youth and health its sanguine hopes and rain- 
 bow prospects, and I will not, by the wisdom 
 of experience, dim one color in the bright 
 camera. 
 
 After tea Maggie and Robert went off to- 
 gether in the carriage for a drive on the Long 
 Beach. There is nothing pleasanter in fine 
 weather when the tide is down, and the long 
 blue waves, crested with snowy foam, break at 
 a safe distance upon the shore. But as the 
 evening came on the weather changed. The 
 wind blew strongly from the east, and the li^rht
 
 78 Miss Phillissas Letters. 
 
 fogs, which had been gathering unnoticed, 
 assumed the forms of clouds, and scudded 
 hither and thither, gradually concentrating their 
 power. I became nervously anxious for their 
 return as the twilight shadows deepened. I 
 sat a long time by the open window listening 
 to the heavy thud of the surf upon the beach 
 is the tide came in, and tormenting myself 
 with conjectures in regard to their absence. I 
 imagined every possible evil, and some that my 
 reason told me were quite impossible. It is 
 only when the tide is down to a certain point 
 that the further end of the beach can be 
 crossed in safety ; there is no use in attempting 
 a passage after the water has risen over the 
 sand-bar. I think my brother felt considerable 
 anxiety, for I heard him go several times to 
 the little observatory at the top of the house, 
 but he would only have laughed at me if I had 
 gone to him for sympathy. 
 
 They came at last when it was quite dark, 
 and, though I trembled all over with the ex- 
 citement I had undergone, I hurried down 
 stairs to question them. 
 
 My brother stood in the doorway talking 
 to Robert, who, as well as Maggie, was drip-
 
 Miss Philli'ssa 's Letters. 79 
 
 ping wet. Maggie was without her hat, and 
 her hair, which is long and thick, had become 
 unfastened, and hung over her shoulders like a 
 vail. 
 
 " For pity's sake ! what has happened to you ? 
 Maggie, where's your bonnet ? " 
 
 "Gone to sea, I expect. Don't be fright- 
 ened, Aunt 'Lissa. Nothing terrible has taken 
 place." 
 
 " Robert, go straight home and get some dry 
 clothes. Don't wait to give us any particulars. 
 If you are not both sick after this then I am 
 mistaken. What have you been up to ? " 
 
 " I shall leave Maggie to tell you, Aunt 
 'Lissa," said Robert. " I shall take your ad- 
 vice. Good-night." 
 
 " But not till she has changed her dress," 
 said her father, turning to Maggie. 
 
 "It is salt water, papa. It wont hurt me. I 
 am not cold." 
 
 " Don't stop to argue about it. Do as I wish 
 without controversy." 
 
 " Yes, papa. It is too late to dress again, 
 and I am tired, so I will go to bed, if you please. 
 Good-night, papa." 
 
 My brother's face exhibited a ludicrous con-
 
 8o Miss Phillissa s Letters. 
 
 tention between parental authority and baffled 
 curiosity. A glance from the window showed 
 him that Robert was quite beyond recall. 
 There was never a son of Adam with a more 
 inquisitive nature, and the idea of waiting till 
 morning for the particulars of Maggie's adven- 
 ture was not to be thought of. 
 
 " Phillissa, I suppose you are full of curi- 
 osity women always are to hear what these 
 children have been doing. It is a silly trait, 
 and ought to be checked ; but if Maggie chooses 
 to slip on her dressing-gown and come down 
 just long enough to gratify you, I I wont 
 object." 
 
 " Not on my account, thank you. I can 
 stop into her room when I go up stairs and get 
 the details. I shall be going up directly." 
 
 My brother arose and walked uneasily up 
 and down the room till I lighted my candle. 
 Then he spoke with his back toward me. 
 
 " Phillissa, I think hem I believe in fact, 
 I should like to hear about the affair my- 
 self 
 
 " Indeed ! Well, there is nothing easier." 
 
 I went to the foot of the stairs and called 
 " Maggie."
 
 Miss Phillissa 's Letters. 8 1 
 
 " Ma'am ! " 
 
 " Your father wishes you to come down and 
 tell him about your adventure." 
 
 " Yes, ma'am." 
 
 Maggie came directly, followed by her sisters, 
 and with her usual boldness seated herself upon 
 her father's knees. Neither of the other girls 
 dare do that. 
 
 " We were crossing the beach on our return," 
 she began, " and were about half a mile this 
 side of that narrow part, when the carriage 
 suddenly sank in a soft place which must have 
 been got up for the occasion, for we never saw 
 it before. It is higher than the regular track, 
 but the tide came in so fast that I did not like 
 to drive nearer. You know that fence by the 
 salt meadows, papa ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Well, it was close by that, and quite safe, 
 unless the waves are uncommon. We got out 
 of the carriage and Robert pushed, and the 
 horse pulled, and I helped them both, but we 
 could not start it So Robert was obliged to 
 leave us and go in search of help. The nearest 
 house was Quinny Taylor's, a mile off, at least. 
 Robert tied Zoe to the fence and mounted me
 
 82 Miss Phillissas Letters. 
 
 upon a post near by out of the reach of the 
 waves. Imagine my situation, Aunt 'Lissa. 
 Left to myself in the middle of that desolate 
 beach, the great waves rushing up so near as 
 almost to touch my feet, the wind twitching at 
 every part of my dress, and pulling my hair 
 out straight, and the darkness coming on faster 
 than it ever did before. How should you have 
 
 liked it ? " 
 
 " Not very well, I think." 
 
 " Robert had got but a little way past that 
 old hulk that lies on the beach, though he was 
 quite out of hearing, when Zoe began to kick 
 and plunge. She got her feet entangled in the 
 fence, and I expected every minute to see her 
 fall and break her legs or her neck. I tried to 
 coax her, but she would not let me come near 
 her. Just then I saw Robert returning with a 
 man who happened to be crossing the beach on 
 foot. At that distance they scarcely seemed to 
 move at all, and I screamed as loud as I could 
 to hurry them, but the noise of the surf drowned 
 my voice. I made signals of distress with my 
 handkerchief, but the wind took it out of my 
 hands, and I saw it no more. Then I took off 
 my hat and swung it round and round by
 
 Miss Phillissa ' s Letters. 83 
 
 the strings till they were near enough to 
 see it, when that too blew away. I thought 
 I could not afford to lose it, so I got off -my 
 post and began to chase it. You should 
 have seen my hair spread itself out on the 
 breeze." 
 
 " I can fancy how it looked from present 
 appearances." 
 
 " But the hat was the most provoking. It 
 would lie as still as possible on the wet sand 
 till I stooped to pick it up, and then it would 
 whirl over and over, as if it had a malicious 
 pleasure in keeping just out of my reach. I 
 have no doubt it had, but I guess it has re- 
 pented by this time. I was glad to see Robert 
 trying to head the thing off, for it was hope- 
 less to try to overtake it. But we had each in 
 the pursuit unconsciously approached nearer 
 and nearer to the sea, and just as we met and 
 both stooped to seize the truant, a big wave 
 broke directly over us and left us seated flat 
 upon the sand. That is how we got so wet. 
 The retiring wave took the hat out to sea. 
 Robert tied his handkerchief over my head as 
 soon as we got out of the reach of the waves 
 and could stop laughing. In the mean time
 
 84 Miss Phillissds Letters. 
 
 the man had extricated the horse, and the 
 carriage being once more brought to the surface 
 of things, we got in and struck a bee line for 
 home." 
 
 " Quite an adventure," said the squire. " I 
 suppose you enjoyed it, though." 
 
 " Well, I did rather like it" 
 
 I have written all this since the rest of the 
 household retired to bed. I hope the account 
 will interest you as much as it does me. I sup- 
 pose the young folks were in real danger, but 
 my heart swells with gratitude to the heavenly 
 Providence which kept them in safety. It rains 
 heavily, and the night is a gloomy one to be 
 abroad. There is such a melancholy monotony 
 in the sound of the waves. Good-night. 
 
 In love, as ever, PHILLISSA BROWN. 
 
 MERTOWN, July 12. 
 
 DEAREST KATE, It is some time since 
 Robert went away, but I must not forget to 
 tell you about his leave-taking. He stopped on 
 his way to the station to bid us good-bye, and 
 promised me, with his eyes on Miss Margaret, 
 to write often. She, little hypocrite, tried with 
 all her might to look unconcerned, and sue-
 
 Miss Ptullissas Letters. 85 
 
 ceeded so well that I was quite provoked with 
 her. No one would have thought her at all 
 interested in his departure till he turned to 
 leave the house. Then, unable to keep up the 
 deceit a moment longer, she astonished .us all 
 by bursting into tears and running away. 
 
 Robert's face brightened. Her well-acted in- 
 difference had been any thing but satisfactory 
 to him. I think he had not reached the street 
 when I saw the blue ribbons of her new hat 
 fluttering over the top of the hill back of our 
 house. There was a little grove through which 
 he must pass on his way to the depot, and by 
 crossing the field beyond the hill she could 
 easily intercept him. 
 
 It was two full hours before she returned, 
 and then she came from quite another direction, 
 with her hands full of mosses and wild flowers. 
 I would not let her think that my old eyes 
 could be so easily blinded. 
 
 " Well, my pet, did you meet Robert ? " 
 
 Her face flushed crimson in a moment, mak- 
 ing her prettier than usual, which, in my opin- 
 ion, is quite needless. 
 
 " O, aunty ! did you see me ? " 
 
 " Of course I did. And I shouldn't wonder if
 
 86 Miss Phillissds Letters. 
 
 some of the neighbors were looking too. What 
 will Mrs. Lander say ? I believe she does not 
 object to a knowledge of other people's affairs, 
 though she keeps her own under lock and 
 key." 
 
 " I don't care a straw what she thinks. I 
 wanted to see Robert particularly." 
 
 " There is no doubt of that, I should say." 
 
 "Aunt 'Lissa, do you think I have acted 
 wrong ? " 
 
 " No. You acted naturally, that is all. Rob- 
 ert thought it was right, I dare say." 
 
 " Yes, he was glad I came. He said, aunt, 
 that he should go away a great deal happier 
 because because " 
 
 " Ah, do not try to tell me, Maggie. It is all 
 right if Robert approves." 
 
 " But you mustn't tell papa and the girls." 
 
 "There is nothing to tell, my dear child. 
 None of us have been blind." 
 
 "Ah, but nothing was certain till till this 
 morning." 
 
 " No ? And yet I could have predicted it all 
 any time during the last five years." 
 
 " O, Aunt 'Lissa ! Five years ago I was only 
 thirteen."
 
 Miss Phillissas Letters. 87 
 
 " But Robert was twenty-two. I knew he 
 would wait for you." 
 
 " It was a long time to wait,'' said Maggie, 
 thoughtfully. " Aunty, wasn't I a rather mis- 
 chievous child ? a tease, you know ? " 
 
 " You were very much what you are now in 
 those respects." 
 
 The conscious shyness of Maggie's manner 
 was something new. " I hope I shall make him 
 happy," she said, " but I do so like to plague 
 him." 
 
 As she went slowly through the hall and up 
 the stairs to her room, I thought there was little 
 to fear from a spirit of teasing that was too 
 affectionate to suffer any one to remain un- 
 comfortable more than five minutes together. 
 " They will be a happy couple," I said softly to 
 tiyself, " but I must not let my brother know 
 that I think so." 
 
 There is no need to tell you now that the 
 'Squire is "peculiar." His particular oddities 
 probably seem very trivial to you, but they 
 make up a great part of our world here. It is 
 impossible to ignore them or get round them ; 
 one must either meet them boldly or yield to 
 them passively.
 
 88 Miss Phillissas Letters. 
 
 I have mentioned his love of controversy. 
 There is scarcely a subject on which he thinks 
 with other people, and he adheres to his views 
 and notions as stubbornly as a mule. With 
 him disputation is argument, and the most 
 trifling events and subjects are caught up and 
 turned over, and split to pieces, and analyzed, 
 till one is tempted to wish that events would 
 never occur at all, or subjects of converse pre- 
 sent themselves. As if the old adversary of 
 peace-loving Christians had a particular spite 
 against our household, there are in convenient 
 neighborhood to us four other controversialists 
 worse than the 'Squire, and scarcely a pleasant 
 evening passes without a call from one or two 
 of them, which lengthens into a visit as the 
 evening progresses, and becomes a visitation 
 on the approach of midnight. They come in on 
 purpose to argue and split hairs with the 'Squire. 
 Sometimes, but not often, we have them alto- 
 gether. Maggie has named them the " Quintet 
 Quarreling Club." 
 
 Last winter I tried all manner of expedients 
 to lessen the time spent in these windy en- 
 counters. The wood fire, in which my brother 
 delights, was suffered to die out upon the hearth ;
 
 Miss Philhssas Letters. 89 
 
 I put somber green shades over the lamp and 
 made the room look like a tolerably cheerful 
 sepulcher, and suffered all sorts of personal dis- 
 comfort in the vain hope of making the visitors 
 uncomfortable. They seemed to enjoy being 
 dismal, and stayed later than ever. There was 
 a dishonesty in their actions which was very 
 trying, to say the least. They would get up 
 and put on their hats and overcoats, as if they 
 were going directly, and then, right in the face 
 of this implied promise to take themselves off, 
 they would talk an extra hour with their hands 
 upon the door-knob, or with the door itself 
 slightly ajar, and the chill air of the long hall 
 drawing through the crevice. 
 
 By way of a gentle reminder, I would ask if 
 our clock agreed with the visitor's watch, or at 
 what hour the moon rose, or when it would be 
 full tide, and sometimes inquire with real inter- 
 est if the wives of these gentlemen sat up till 
 their return. It was all of no use ; it made not 
 the slightest difference ; the discussion would 
 go on and on, the voices wax louder and higher, 
 and, by midnight, a stranger passing by would 
 suppose that a full-sized theological abscess had 
 come to a head and burst ; for it was always
 
 go Miss Phillissas Letters. 
 
 upon devotional and doctrinal points that the 
 debates were hottest. 
 
 The girls invariably gathered up their work 
 and left the room as soon as they could do so 
 unobserved. You will ask why I did not follow 
 their example. I did so when I first came to 
 live here, and twice the house was set on fire 
 through my brother's carelessness. I am afraid 
 of fire. It terrifies me to think of being burned 
 out at night, and at home, where every body 
 was so careful, I was always smelling some- 
 thing burning, and prowling about the house 
 to find it. So I always sit up here to put out 
 the lights and fasten the doors of the house 
 myself. 
 
 In the summer it is a little better. I sit in 
 my room during the debates, and when the 
 house is still go down to make sure that no 
 stray candles are left burning near the muslin 
 curtains of the sitting-room or among the pine 
 shavings in the wood-house. But I have al- 
 ready begun to dread next winter. It is months 
 ahead, I may not live to see it, the 'Squire or 
 his neighbors may be past disputing, there may 
 be a revival of religion, indeed, there are many 
 possibilities in my favor, but the probability is
 
 Miss Phillissa's Letters. 91 
 
 * 
 
 a bugbear that shadows every thing. I foresee 
 the evil, but I see no way to hide myself. 
 
 " What shall I do, girls ? " I ask for the fifti- 
 eth time, I dare say. 
 
 " Do ? " says Cora. " Why, do as we do." 
 
 " But I can't, my dear." 
 
 " But I would," says Maggie. " Clear out 
 and let them go it. We have grand times in 
 the kitchen." 
 
 "What would your father say?" 
 
 " He wouldn't care," says Leonore. " Do you 
 suppose he ever thinks where we are after the 
 quarrel has fairly set in ? " 
 
 " Discussion, my dear," I correct her. " They 
 do not really quarrel." 
 
 " It's the same thing," said Cora, and she evi- 
 dently thought so. 
 
 " I wish your father would permit you to have 
 a fire by yourselves. The kitchen is hardly 
 a proper place for you. Besides, it is rather 
 crowding Ann. She has her own company 
 sometimes, you know." 
 
 " Yes, but we have got acquainted with all 
 her Irish aunts and cousins, and they don't 
 mind our being present. I expect," says Maggie 
 demurely, " that they all know how we are situ-
 
 92 Miss Phillissas Letters. 
 
 
 
 ated. Now, Aunt 'Lissa, dear, don't look so 
 horrified ! I am sure I am sorry for you, tor I 
 suppose papa would make a fuss if you should 
 do as we do and leave him quite to himself. 
 But I am surprised that you don't invite com- 
 pany of your own to spend the evenings. There 
 is the Widow Lawton and her Sister Phoebe, 
 and Angelina Cross and the Widow Peyton." 
 
 If you had been here, dear Kate, you would 
 not have understood the chorus of laughter 
 that followed Maggie's speech. She went on as 
 soberly as if we were all crying, " Now, blessed 
 be the power which gave to man his share of 
 follies ! Don't you see the way clear before 
 you ? You need society. We young madcaps 
 are of no account " 
 
 " My pet !" I remonstrated. 
 
 " Yes, you need society. There is plenty of 
 it close at hand. Good society, too. Intellect- 
 ual ; just your sort. Why shouldn't you have 
 it ? I am sure papa would not hinder you." 
 
 I did not answer, but I went up to my room 
 to think it over. I have never told you that 
 the 'Squire has a nervous fear of all single 
 women, especially widows. He seems to labor 
 under the impression that they all wish to ap-
 
 Miss Phillissa's Letters. 93 
 
 propriate him matrimonially, and that they will 
 somehow contrive to do it without his knowl- 
 edge or consent. I suppose he never meets a 
 single woman, even in church, without a feeling 
 of insecurity, and any polite or neighborly in- 
 quiry on their part, a chance meeting in the 
 street, or a smile of recognition, are each di- 
 rectly construed into courtship of himself, and 
 rank in his mind with other crimes, such as 
 assault and battery. 
 
 But I will leave this subject and tell you of 
 something that happened yesterday. After din- 
 ner I went to call on a sick neighbor, Mr. Haze. 
 He had been ill a fortnight, but not seriously, 
 and we supposed he was recovering till his wife 
 sent for me this morning. I found him danger- 
 ously sick, but wholly unaware of his danger. 
 
 For many years he has been a warm de- 
 fender of, and apparently earnest believer in, 
 the doctrine of universal salvation, and some 
 of my brother's stoutest arguments have been 
 addressed to him. His theory is one which is 
 very easily upset, and I have been often sur- 
 prised to see him cling to it with an easy, satis- 
 fied way after its frail props have been knocked 
 aside.
 
 94 Miss Phillissds Letters. 
 
 The doctor was with him when I arrived, and 
 he came into the hall to meet me with so grave 
 a face that I was alarmed at once. He is not 
 our family physician, for among my brother's 
 disbeliefs is an utter distrust of all doctors ; 
 but I had met him several times in the house 
 of a sick neighbor, and I knew him to be held 
 in great esteem in all the region, and to be as 
 eminent for piety as for skill in medicine. So 
 when he came forward and shook hands, with 
 that sad look of anxiety on his face, I knew 
 how to interpret it. 
 
 " So you think he is very ill," I said in a low 
 voice. 
 
 " He is, indeed, Miss Phillissa. I am very 
 glad to meet you here. I have a very painful 
 commission to intrust to you. I have tried to 
 execute it myself, but he is too stupid now to 
 realize what I say. But he will rally from this 
 dozing state, and then you must tell him ; make 
 him understand if you can that a few hours of 
 life is all that he can look forward to. Do not be 
 afraid to arouse him or to speak plainly. No," 
 said the doctor, answering my looks, "there is 
 no hope for him none." 
 
 " Let his wife speak to him, doctor. I cannot."
 
 Miss Pkillissas Letters. 95 
 
 " She will not. I have been urging her to do 
 so. ' If he must die/ she says, ' let him die in 
 peace.' But to me there is something very aw- 
 ful in the idea of appearing so suddenly in the 
 presence of our Judge without one moment 
 given to serious preparation. If Mr. Haze has 
 a short interval of reason and ease from bodily 
 pain, as I think he will, who shall dare to wrest 
 from him the precious privilege of sincerely 
 offering the prayer of the publican, ' God be 
 merciful to me a sinner ! " , 
 
 "I have little faith," I said, "in death-bed 
 conversions." 
 
 " And yet, Miss Phillissa, God accepts those 
 who come at the eleventh hour." 
 
 " Have you conversed with him ?" 
 
 " I have attempted to do so, but I did not 
 succeed in making him realize the truth. Till 
 this morning I had a strong hope that he would 
 recover, and it was important not to agitate 
 him. But ihere is no chance for him now. 
 You will tell him so, Miss Phillissa?" 
 
 " I will try." 
 
 As soon as the doctor was gone I went into 
 the sick-room, hoping to persuade poor Mrs. 
 Haze to allow me to take her place, but I could
 
 c/3 Miss PJiillissas Letters. 
 
 not persuade her to leave him for a moment. 
 Poor woman ! she had stood by him or sat on 
 the bedside for three days and nights, and was 
 so exhausted that she dozed even as she bent 
 over his pillow ; but no entreaties could induce 
 her to leave her trust in my hands long enough 
 to seek the repose she needed so much. 
 
 I drew an easy chair close to the bedside. 
 " See," I said, " you can do nothing for him 
 now. Let me place you so that you can lean 
 back on these pillows. You can still hold his 
 hand. It will not be leaving him." 
 
 " There is so little time to see him now," she 
 urged piteously. 
 
 " I know. But if you sleep while he is dozing 
 you will be able to speak to him when he 
 awakes. He may have some wish to express, 
 and you are too worn out to listen. There, 
 shut your eyes ; it will rest them. I will speak 
 to you if he stirs." 
 
 She yielded at last, and fell into a heavy sleep 
 which lasted an hour. Was it wrong in me as 
 I watched them both if I wished that the spirit 
 so near to its last journey might quietly depart 
 without again awaking to human life ? But a 
 higher wisdom than mine determines the issues
 
 Miss Phillissa' s Letters. 97 
 
 of life and death, and in a little time he began 
 to stir uneasily, gradually shaking off the stu- 
 por of sleep and opening his eyes oftener till he 
 was quite awake and recognized me. 
 
 " It was kind of you to come, Miss Phillissa." 
 
 " How do you feel ? " 
 
 " I am better." 
 
 ' You have been very sick, the doctor says." 
 
 " Yes, I suppose I have. Barbara, give me 
 some water some ice-water." 
 
 His wife brought the water, but he only tasted 
 it. He seemed to be uneasy, and looked from 
 her to me, and then around the room, as if try- 
 ing to remember something. 
 
 " What was it the doctor said, Barbara ? Was 
 I dreaming ? or did he really say that I must 
 die ? Barbara, what did he say ? " 
 
 She drew back from the bed without reply- 
 ing, and he turned his eyes upon me. " What 
 did he say, Miss Phillissa ? I feel better. Does 
 the doctor think there is any danger ? " 
 
 "Yes," I answered slowly, for it seemed to 
 me like reading his death-warrant " The doc- 
 tor thinks you cannot recover. He expected 
 this easy interval, but it is not a change in your 
 favor."
 
 98 Miss PJiillissas Letters. 
 
 He covered his face with his hands and asked, 
 " How soon ? " 
 
 " You have a few hours only." 
 
 I shall never forget the look of agony that 
 passed over his face. 
 
 " A few hours ? " he repeated. " Can this be 
 true ? Only a few hours to prepare for an eter- 
 nity that will be endless ? I cannot do it. I 
 need a life-time. My head is too weak to 
 think now. O, Miss Phillissa, what shall I 
 do?" 
 
 " Seek for God's mercy," I answered. " It is 
 never too late to appeal to that." 
 
 " It is too late for me. I have wasted all 
 these years ; a life-time of precious moments 
 like these that are slipping by. I can do noth- 
 ing now." 
 
 " Yet Jesus will receive you if you come to 
 him in penitence." 
 
 " I cannot. I am groping in darkness. There 
 is no way out of it." 
 
 " Jesus is the way, the truth, and the life. He 
 will help you. He can change your heart and 
 fit you for his kingdom. Think of the penitent 
 thief, saved in death's extremity." 
 
 " No, no, do not talk to me of change now.
 
 Miss Pkillissa's Letters. 99 
 
 But what have I done, after all, that I- need to 
 be afraid ? It is because I am so weak. What 
 wickedness have I committed ? " 
 
 " None, my own husband," said his wife earn- 
 estly. "Take comfort. You have done no 
 wrong." 
 
 " There is no crime of which men can accuse 
 me," he continued eagerly. " I have been as 
 upright in all my dealings as any man in the 
 town. Haven't I helped the poor and been a 
 good citizen, a kind husband and father ? 
 Surely God does not require impossibilities. 
 He will accept me." 
 
 But even while trying thus to quiet his awak- 
 ening conscience a strong dread seized upon 
 him, and he finished his laudation of self by 
 groaning out, " I am afraid to die. I am not 
 ready. Send for the doctor. If he could but 
 prolong my life for a day and give me time ! 
 Send for him, Barbara. Tell him I can't die yet. 
 How could I let the whole of life slip by with- 
 out getting ready to die ! It is too late now, 
 Barbara, be warned by me. Attend to your 
 eternal interests at once. There is time for 
 you, but I am lost forever." 
 
 Again he strove to recall his good deeds, and
 
 IOO Miss Phillissa's Letters. 
 
 offer them as a reason for claiming God's mercy 
 in his behalf. 
 
 "I am surely better than most men," he 
 pleaded. "And God is just. Ah, that is a ter- 
 rible thought. If he were only merciful I might 
 hope, but who can stand before his justice ? " 
 
 In vain I strove to lead his thoughts to the 
 compassionate Saviour of sinners. He could 
 only think of him as the unerring Judge of the 
 wicked. He was not still a moment, and as his 
 strength gradually declined and he ceased to 
 speak, his wistful, imploring looks were terrible 
 to see. 
 
 I stayed with poor Mrs. Haze till it was all 
 over. She is stunned by her trouble now, and 
 goes about the house like one walking in a 
 dream. She does not yet think of her own 
 widowhood. One horrible thought possesses 
 her that her husband is not saved. 
 
 " We must leave him with God," I said to 
 her. " We know he will do right." 
 
 "Ah, that does not comfort me if my hus- 
 band is lost." 
 
 I could not administer consolation. I could 
 only weep with her and pray for her. And this, 
 I reflected, is all that Universalism does for its
 
 Miss Phillissa's Letters. 101 
 
 disciples in the hour of their extremity. In 
 health our friend had rested contentedly upon its 
 pleasing lying doctrines ; but he did not once 
 mention them when he was face to face with 
 death. To his sharpened spiritual senses they 
 showed in their false colors, and were thrown 
 aside as useless. 
 
 My brother was greatly agitated when I told 
 him that Mr. Haze was dead. It was only the 
 other night that he was here, and sat with him 
 on the piazza till a late hour discussing some 
 theological question. O those empty, bitter 
 disputations! Could my brother remember 
 them without thinking how much better it would 
 have been to have shown the sweet spirit of 
 charity, the loving meekness and humility of a 
 true disciple of the Lord Jesus. 
 
 Our whole circle is mournfully affected by 
 this sudden death, and Maggie went shivering 
 from the table when I described that sad death- 
 bed. Cora and Leonore are both, as I trust, 
 Christians ; but Maggie has learned from her 
 father to cavil at truth however it is presented, 
 and to doubt all professions of goodness. Yet 
 there are times when I think she is not far from 
 the kingdom of God.
 
 IO2 Miss Phillissas Letters. 
 
 " 1 would not marry Robert if he were not a 
 Christian, Aunt 'Lissa," she said this morning. 
 " I should lose my senses if he were to die like 
 Mr. Haze." 
 
 "What if he should make the same resolu- 
 tion in regard to choosing a wife ? What then, 
 my pet ? " 
 
 " He would show his wisdom, I think." 
 
 But I noticed the slight trembling in her 
 voice as she answered thus lightly. 
 
 My sheet is full and I must close. Let me 
 get a letter from you next week. It seems a 
 great while since I heard from you. 
 
 Affectionately, PHILLISSA BROWN. 
 
 MERTOWN, October 23. 
 
 It is true, dearest Kate, that you have some 
 reason to complain of me. It has been no want 
 of time, or even inclination, that has kept me 
 silent ; but just the uncertainty of Robert 
 Newland's movements, and the hope of soon 
 being able to write you some news of Fred. 
 
 It will be scarcely possible now for me to 
 obey your injunction and begin this letter just 
 where the last one left off, but I can 'give you a 
 general idea of what we have been doing.
 
 Miss Phillissa's Letters. 103 
 
 There has been a change observable in the 
 'Squire since poor Mr. Haze died. Not a last- 
 ing, radical change, but a change that comes 
 and goes by fits and starts, and shows the old 
 nature unchanged after all. The evening con- 
 troversies at our house are not given up, but 
 they are cooler, and the combatants keep better 
 hours. The theme of universal salvation is 
 wholly let alone. I truly regret the poor man's 
 death, but if he must die I hope it is not wrong 
 to rejoice that one bone of contention is buried 
 with him. 
 
 But there are many other bones for which I 
 should be glad to find a sepulcher one very old 
 bone, of which I have just had a glimpse. Shall 
 I show it to you ? 
 
 At the tea-table my brother undertook to 
 convince me that hot buttered toast, of which 
 he is extravagantly fond, ought never to be 
 eaten. 
 
 " An indigestible mess, full of nightmare and 
 incipient dyspepsia, only fit for the gizzard of 
 an ostrich," was his flattering comment on its 
 appearance. I knew that he said this from 
 sheer love of fault-finding, and that he would 
 directly help himself to the lion's portion, so
 
 IO4 Miss Phillissas Letters. 
 
 I touched the bell. " Ann," said I quietly, " you 
 may take this toast away, and bring some cold 
 bread." My brother started. I believe he 
 would have countermanded my order, but a 
 smothered laugh from the girls drew his atten- 
 tion to them and they were forthwith dismissed 
 from the table. Of course they went directly 
 to the kitchen and made a hearty meal from the 
 rejected toast. 
 
 It was with the greatest difficulty that I 
 preserved my gravity as we sat opposite to 
 each other silently munching our cold bread. 
 It will be some time before another favorite dish 
 is argued off the table. Political and religious 
 and scientific disputations are bad enough to 
 endure without having one's victuals quarreled 
 over. 
 
 "Phillissa," said my brother solemnly as he 
 moved his chair back from the table, " what do 
 you think of the reasoning powers of women as 
 compared with men ? " 
 
 I saw that a long tirade against the intellect- 
 uality of my sex was in prospect, so I answered 
 coolly, " Compared with men ? I did not know 
 that men had any reasoning powers ? " 
 
 Not another word was said ; but as soon as I
 
 Miss Phillissa's Letters. 105 
 
 could leave without the appearance of running 
 away, I ran up to my room, locked my door, and 
 laughed myself helpless over the whole affair. 
 
 But I must let my mind run back several 
 weeks if I answer all your questions. At first 
 we heard from Robert often, but the whole 
 month of September passed without a word 
 from him. Several times he had supposed him- 
 self on the eve of success, but invariably had 
 found himself looking up somebody else's rela- 
 tions. But instead of getting discouraged he 
 grew more and more confident that his cousin 
 was alive and would be found at last. Late in 
 August he wrote that he had ascertained that 
 a soldier who had escaped in company with 
 Fred was living in La Grange, Texas, and he 
 was preparing to leave New Orleans directly to 
 find this man. 
 
 " He'll never come back," said my brother 
 testily after hearing the letter read. " There 
 is no sense in his wasting his time and money 
 in this way. The people of Texas are half sav- 
 ages. It is the last place that Fred would 
 think of visiting. If he is alive he has wit 
 enough to come home now that the war is 
 over."
 
 lo6 Miss Phillissas Letters. 
 
 " You forget, papa, what Robert says about 
 the effect of the horrible treatment upon the 
 minds of the prisoners. And and Fred's 
 mother was insane. It is constitutional in her 
 family. There is no telling where the poor 
 fellow may have wandered if his intellect is 
 disordered." 
 
 " Pooh ! it is easy enough to imagine such 
 things. There is no evidence to my mind that 
 Fred is alive. The fact is, that Robert likes to 
 travel, and this affair of Fred's gives him an 
 excuse for doing so. A soldier's life unsettles 
 a person and gives him a roving dispo- 
 sition." 
 
 Maggie bit her lips to keep back her indig- 
 nant thoughts. 
 
 We had the pleasure of listening to remarks 
 like these all through September. They grew 
 more and more bitter as the time passed with- 
 out any tidings, and at last the 'Squire decided 
 that Robert had no intention of returning him- 
 self, even if living, which was doubtful. 
 
 Maggie is not easily disheartened. She held 
 up bravely, and was always sure there was a 
 good reason for her daily disappointment in 
 regard to a letter. But the color left her cheek,
 
 Miss Phillissa's Letters. 107 
 
 and her merry laugh quite deserted her as the 
 weary days of waiting went on. To divert her 
 mind one afternoon when she was unusually 
 thoughtful and silent I proposed a long walk 
 in the woods. She made no objection, though 
 I could see that she was indisposed to make 
 any exertion. But Cora tied on her hat while 
 Leonore brought her parasol, and we were 
 soon on our way. It was a beautiful day. The 
 early frosts had just touched the trees, and the 
 different colors were most lovely. Still it was 
 difficult to interest Maggie. She was evidently 
 borrowing trouble. 
 
 " What can be the occasion of Robert's long 
 silence, Aunt 'Lissa ? " 
 
 " He has doubtless written, my dear. Let- 
 ters get mislaid often on shorter routes. Do 
 you remember that letter of Cousin Kate's, 
 which started only twelve miles from us and 
 traveled nearly all over the United States be- 
 fore it reached us ? I expect that Robert is 
 wondering why you do not answer this letter 
 that you have not received, and, like you, he is 
 tormenting himself to account for your neglect. 
 When he gets safely home I shall laugh at you 
 both."
 
 io8 Miss Phillissas Letters. 
 
 " You may, Aunt 'Lissa, if he ever gets 
 home." 
 
 " Now, Maggie, you must not dwell on that 
 dismal thought. The chances are that he is all 
 right, and if he is not, there will be time for 
 lamentation and mourning after you find it out. 
 Ugh ! here's a wasp on my sleeve ; brush it off, 
 please." 
 
 I have a terror of wasps and hornets and all 
 stinging insects, and my wise brother's argu- 
 ments and the amusement of my nieces are all 
 thrown away when attempting to reassure me. 
 I know from experience what a wasp's sting is. 
 So as soon as I saw this one, with his long 
 wind-mill wings spread, awkwardly balancing 
 himself for a walk up my sleeve, I began to 
 jump about and make such an ado that Maggie 
 forgot her trouble in laughing at me. 
 
 " It is a white-faced one, Aunt 'Lissa ; it 
 wont sting." 
 
 " O dear ! Well, I do despise a white-faced 
 wasp. It is regular low-church. The hypo- 
 crite ! It has no business to personate a wasp. 
 It ought to be turned out of the synagogue." 
 
 " Why, Aunt 'Lissa, you did not want it to 
 sting you, I suppose ? "
 
 Miss Phillissas Letters. 109 
 
 " No ; but it shouldn't pretend to be a wasp. 
 Those black-faced, fiery ones, ready to stab you 
 without a moment's notice, have the real doc- 
 trine in them. They are wasps. I respect 
 them." 
 
 "I am glad of it," said Maggie, laughing, 
 " for there is one of them on your bonnet. And 
 see," she continued as she bent a little birch to- 
 ward me, "here's a nest of them." 
 
 "You don't! O dear! Get out!" I gave 
 but one look at the nest as I snatched my bon- 
 net from my head, threw it away, and ran for 
 dear life. The low-church wasp rose in my 
 estimation at every step, and its peaceable 
 qualities put on a certain dignity. Maggie 
 followed me as fast as she could for laughing, 
 bringing my bonnet with her and thoroughly 
 enjoying my fright. I will not deny that I 
 exhibited quite as much of this as I felt ; it 
 was so charming to see her look like her old 
 self again. So I kept on till I was clear of the 
 wood and safe in the high road. Then I sat 
 down to recover my breath and wait for Maggie 
 to come up. 
 
 " Well done, Aunt 'Lissa ! I knew you were 
 the quickest little woman in the world, but I
 
 I IO Miss Phillissas Letters. 
 
 had no idea you could run like that. Do you 
 know that you have cleared two stone wails 
 and a tolerably high fence without once stop- 
 ping to measure them ? As the boys say, ' I'll 
 bet on you after this.' " 
 
 " Nonsense, my dear. You know there are 
 very convenient steps at each of these barriers. 
 It is the regular path across the fields, isn't it ? " 
 
 " Yes." Maggie answered with a bright 
 blush, for which I could not account till I re- 
 membered the morning of Robert's departure. 
 " Well, aunt, where shall we go now ? " 
 
 " Anywhere you please." 
 
 " Let us go to the post-office." 
 
 " Yes, but do not expect a letter." 
 
 It was nearly a mile to the post-office, but 
 the day was so lovely that it was a pleasure to 
 be out of doors. And there was a letter. 
 
 Maggie could hardly believe her eyes when 
 the large envelope, which she knew contained 
 so much, was handed to her. 
 
 " Let us find a quiet place, Aunt 'Lissa, and 
 read what Robert says before we go home." 
 
 " Where is the letter mailed ? " 
 
 " At New Orleans." 
 
 Maggie was soon lost in her letter, while I
 
 Miss Phillis^as Letters. HI 
 
 sat waiting patiently to hear if there was any 
 news of Fred. 
 
 " In a minute," was her response to my re- 
 peated inquiries. At last I laid violent hands 
 on the letter itself. 
 
 " I will take it away, Maggie, if you do not 
 tell me if he has heard from Fred." 
 
 " Yes, yes, he has found him at last. He is 
 in New Orleans, and has never been in Texas 
 at all." 
 
 " Then Robert had his journey for nothing." 
 
 " No, for it was at Austin that he first got 
 any reliable intelligence." 
 
 " But how is Fred ? Why didn't he come 
 home ? Is he sick ? Why has he kept his 
 whereabouts so private ? If he couldn't write 
 to us himself, I suppose there is some one in 
 the city who could. What does he say for him- 
 self? Maggie, why don't you tell me ?" 
 
 " You gave me no chance, Aunt 'Lissa. Fred 
 is very much altered, Robert says in mind 
 more than in person. The horrors of Ander- 
 sonville were too much for him. You know 
 how tender-hearted he is. He is rational at 
 times, and since he has recognized his cousin 
 seems to feel easy. All the time he has suffered
 
 1 12 Miss Pkillissas Letters. 
 
 from a fear of being recaptured, and would 
 neither tell his name nor where he belonged. 
 He is in a hospital, well cared for, and Robert 
 thinks he will be able to start for home next 
 week. That is all there is about Fred," said 
 Maggie, coloring rosily as she saw me glance 
 at the closely-written sheets which she was 
 folding. How happy she looked ! 
 
 " I think Andersonville must make many 
 infidels," was her next remark as we walked 
 thoughtfully homeward. 
 
 " Why, my pet ? " 
 
 "Because it does not seem as if a merciful 
 and powerful Being could suffer such wrong to 
 his creatures. To Christian patriots, too." 
 
 " What we know not now we shall know 
 hereafter. We cannot comprehend the infinite 
 plans of the Almighty. It is useless to specu- 
 late upon such subjects. There has probably 
 been no circumstance of the war which has 
 so well unmasked the diabolical cruelty of the 
 South as its exhibition at Andersonville. The 
 European sympathizers with the rebellion can 
 now understand and appreciate its chivalry." 
 
 " As if it were worth while, auntie, for all 
 this misery to be endured just to enlighten
 
 Miss Phillissas Letters. 113 
 
 France and England when it is not of the least 
 consequence what either nation thinks of us !" 
 
 " Well, well, my dear, we will not argue. 
 Your father can do that for us all." 
 
 As soon as we got home I sent Maggie to 
 her room to read her letter, while I spread the 
 good news it contained. My brother tried hard 
 to disguise his joy, but he did not succeed. 
 Even while his lips grumbled, his eyes shone 
 with thankful gladness. There is a warm, good 
 heart under his rough outside, and he has been 
 so sensible and considerate for a week that I 
 am afraid he is going to die. 
 
 Mrs. Peyton came over to spend the evening 
 with me. She is a widow, about forty years 
 old, and one of the most attractive women I 
 ever saw. You will understand that I im- 
 proved Maggie's hint in seeking her acquaint- 
 ance, and that the Quintet Quarreling Club 
 Q. Q. C. will not have it all their own way 
 during the approaching winter. The 'Squire 
 was in great dread all the evening, though he 
 could not help admiring her. Her conversa- 
 tional powers are superior to those of most 
 women, for she has read a great deal, and is an 
 independent thinker.
 
 1 14 Mies Pldllissiis Letters. 
 
 Once or twice, when the conversation hap- 
 pened to turn upon the events of the war and 
 the present policy of the Government, I think 
 my brother quite forgot that she was a woman 
 and a widow, for he contradicted her without 
 ceremony, commencing his remarks with, " Now, 
 sir, let me show you that you know nothing 
 about it." But generally his sense of danger 
 from her presence kept him quiet. 
 
 Maggie was in the room, with her cheerful- 
 ness quite restored, ready to quarrel with her 
 father or to do any thing else for the general 
 good. Altogether we had a delightful time, 
 and it shall not be the last of the kind if I can 
 help it. 
 
 Mrs. Peyton gave us an amusing account of 
 a young niece of hers. She belongs to a family 
 who have not favored the war or given a cent 
 to aid the country in its need, but whose patriot- 
 ism has been confined to finding fault with all 
 that has been done to maintain the Union cause. 
 The young lady had a lover, and they were ex- 
 pecting to be married soon when the war began. 
 The lover was a good, respectable, but rather 
 ordinary young man, with no positive opinions 
 or principles on any subject. He was not cour-
 
 Miss Pkillissa's Letters. 115 
 
 ageous enough to enlist as a soldier, and both 
 he and his betrothed lived in constant fear of 
 his being drafted into the service. The scorn- 
 ful contempt of the young men around him 
 who were bravely responding to the call of the 
 country, and even the mirthful ridicule of the 
 fairer sex, were unheeded ; it were small conso- 
 lation to be applauded by these after being killed 
 in battle. His head, small and empty as it was, 
 was all the head he had, and he was naturally 
 tender of it ; so, to avoid the draft, he left 
 home and went to Canada. No one, excepting 
 his mother and his affianced wife, knew what had 
 become of him, though many suspected the 
 truth. Of course the marriage was delayed, 
 and the wedding outfit packed 'away till more 
 auspicious times. There were no letters written 
 during the war, the young lady having an im- 
 pression that if his abode were known the 
 United States would straightway require the 
 British authorities to hand the little fellow over 
 to be tried and shot for desertion. But when 
 the war was over she naturally began to look 
 after him and marvel at his non-appearance. 
 " You, Miss Maggie," said Mrs. Peyton, " will 
 know how to pity her when I tell you that she
 
 Ii6 Miss Phillissas Letters. 
 
 has just learned that he has been two years 
 married to a pretty Scotch girl, has a bright 
 boy about fifteen months old, and has settled 
 down into a loyal subject of good Queen 
 Victoria." 
 
 " Served her right," said Maggie. " She don't 
 deserve a husband, though the love of such a 
 poltroon is scarcely worth mentioning." 
 
 " He seems to have prospered," said my 
 brother. 
 
 " Yes. I suppose he was not to blame if he 
 had no manliness in him. He couldn't exhibit 
 a noble spirit or an unselfish love of his coun- 
 try because he hadn't either. He was honest 
 at least, poor fellow." 
 
 " I wish she had been engaged to David Mal- 
 lows, and had transplanted him to the British 
 Provinces," said Maggie suddenly. 
 
 "Why, my dear?" asked her father in an 
 amused tone. 
 
 " You know, papa. Just listen," said Maggie, 
 throwing up the window. We all smiled, for, 
 crooning along upon the air, as if every note 
 was bursting with agony, came the wailing 
 sounds of a fiddle. 
 
 " He is a lazy, shiftless fellow, papa. He
 
 Miss Phillissa 's Letters. 1 1 7 
 
 makes the whole neighborhood hideous. Aren't 
 you one of the select men ? I complain of him 
 as a public nuisance. His wife told me that he 
 had seven fiddles, one for every day in the 
 week, and she isn't sure whether she has her 
 senses left or not. He repairs fiddles and tunes 
 them, and gets them under such headway that 
 they can't stop going if they would. Why 
 wasn't he drafted and put in the front of the 
 battle ? Think of the thousands of useful men 
 who have fallen, and here he has been fiddling 
 the neighbors into fits all the time. He ought 
 to live on an island with all his fiddles in full 
 screech." 
 
 " Well, well, my dear," said the 'Squire, " you 
 will have the remedy in your own hands. Rob- 
 ert owns the cottage where Mallows lives. You 
 can turn him out." 
 
 " But his poor wife, papa." 
 
 My brother grew nervously restless as the 
 evening wore on. He knew that common civil- 
 ity would require him to escort Mrs. Peyton to 
 her home, and, alas ! there was no Canada near 
 wherein he could seek refuge. He had odd fits 
 of silence, and he changed his seat continually. 
 At last, when he was ingeniously counterfeiting
 
 Il8 Miss Phillissas Letters. 
 
 a sudden attack of ague in his face, and query- 
 ing whether he hadn't better go directly to bed 
 and drink hot tea to induce perspiration, Mrs. 
 Peyton's brother arrived, and it appeared that 
 she had been expecting him to come for her. 
 The 'Squire recovered so rapidly on learning 
 this that it seemed a pity to insist on nursing 
 his sudden cold ; but " an ounce of prevention 
 is worth a pound of cure," and I resolved to 
 do my duty. I began to heat soap-stones. 
 " Bother ! " exclaimed the 'Squire. " I tell you 
 I am as well as ever I was. The pain has quite 
 left me." 
 
 " It will return. It never leaves so suddenly 
 when it means to stay away. A slight cold is 
 often the insidious herald of graver diseases. 
 The foot-bath will be ready directly. Put mus- 
 tard in it, Maggie, and have it as hot as he can 
 bear it." 
 
 " O, bother ! " growled the 'Squire. 
 
 Maggie assisted me most zealously. By the 
 time her father was in bed and I had arranged 
 the soap-stones and bottles of hot water about 
 him, she was ready with a steaming bowl of 
 thoroughwort tea. This he was determined 
 not to taste, and our united efforts were not
 
 Miss Phillissa's Letters. iig 
 
 sufficient to induce him to swallow it. And, in- 
 deed, we had scarcely left his room, after tuck- 
 ing the bed-clothes snugly around him, before 
 we heard the soap-stones rolled out upon the 
 floor, and the loud " whish " of the water-bottles 
 as they broke against the wall. You will im- 
 agine that I had little hope of breaking up his 
 cold after this. 
 
 This was a fortnight ago, and I must not 
 close my letter without telling you that Robert 
 and Fred are at home. Fred will never be well 
 again. His constitution is quite broken up. 
 He is rational, as a general thing, and his res- 
 toration to his home has done much to quiet 
 him ; but the disease contracted in that horrid 
 pen at Andersonville will soon lay him in his 
 grave. When his mind wanders he is perfectly 
 harmless, and then his chief delight is in wash- 
 ing his hands over and over again to remove 
 the prison filth which he fancies still adheres 
 to them. 
 
 Robert watches him constantly, and Maggie 
 goes to visit him now. 
 
 " I am glad they have taken a liking to each 
 other, Phillissa," says the 'Squire. 
 
 " So am I," I answer.
 
 1 20 Miss Pliillissas Letters. 
 
 My dearest Kate, I have hopes of my brother. 
 Unless he is being prepared to die he is getting 
 ready to live. He is growing gentle. -He does 
 not argue, that is, scold, half so much as he did, 
 and he does not contradict us above two thirds 
 of the time. So while all our prospects are so 
 inviting and encouraging, I will take the oppor- 
 tunity to bid you a cheerful good-by. 
 
 In love as ever, PHILLISSA BROWN. 
 
 MERTOWN, Jan. 2. 
 
 DEAR KATE, Your last letter came to me 
 the evening after Fred died. I have felt little 
 inclination to write to any one since, and have 
 put off all correspondence, even yours, till the 
 fear of offending past forgiveness impels me to 
 take up my pen. And yet, now that the first 
 effort is ma:le, the pleasure of being in com- 
 munication with you gives a spur to my pen 
 which will speedily fill these blank sheets. This 
 premonitory glow of delight, heralding the rush 
 of sweet memories memories of our past 
 makes me as eager to speak as I was just now 
 reluctant. 
 
 You say I must begin where I left off and 
 tell you every thing.
 
 Miss Phillissas Letters. 121 
 
 Poor Fred ! As his strength declined his in- 
 tellect brightened, but it never regained its old 
 power. He lay on a sofa day after day, wasting 
 and sinking, not suffering pain apparently, but 
 gradually growing weaker till the last. And all 
 the time, in spite of the opinion of a score of 
 doctors and the evidence of his own eyes, Robert 
 clung to the hope of his recovery. He scarcely 
 left him by day or night. " If Fred only gets 
 well," was his reply to all who urged him to 
 take care of himself. But Fred did not get well. 
 He died very peacefully, very happily, a month 
 ago, just at sunrise. One more martyr for his 
 country one more redeemed saint in heaven. 
 
 It has been clear, cold weather for a fortnight, 
 and there is just snow enough for good sleigh- 
 ing. But skating has been the principal pas- 
 time of our young people. The great pond is 
 frozen over, and its three miles of smooth sur- 
 face offer wonderful attractions to the young. 
 Among my nieces Maggie is the only one who 
 cares for the sport, and last week there was a 
 terrible accident which will be a life-long lesson 
 to her. 
 
 The weather had been moderating for two 
 days, and there were suspicious-looking cracks
 
 122 Aliss PJiillissas Letters. 
 
 in the ice, though it was considered safe. The 
 young people were in the height of their enjoy- 
 ment, when suddenly a sharp cry of terror rang 
 out above the laughter and merry voices, and a 
 rush of the crowd backward from the center of 
 the pond revealed quite an extent of broken 
 ice, and human forms struggling in the black 
 waters. 
 
 In a moment more the young men were 
 skating back to 'the rescue of their companions. 
 Through the good providence of God five were 
 saved, among them our own pet Maggie, who 
 was taken out insensible. I shall never forget 
 the horrible dread that nearly paralyzed me 
 when she was brought into the house. Robert 
 was with her. It was the first time he had 
 been on the ice since Fred died, and he had 
 only left Maggie for a moment when the ice 
 gave way under her feet. He had saved her, 
 but was unable to give us any particulars 
 except that he had been able to swim with 
 her in his arms to the thick ice, where they 
 were both lifted out by their companions. 
 How he had found her in the water he could 
 not tell, but he remembered that he had to 
 choose between saving Maggie and a slender
 
 Miss Phillusd's Letters. 123 
 
 boy who was sinking for the last time close by 
 her side. 
 
 The little fellow knew that he must die, but in 
 that awful moment he remembered his mother. 
 Alas ! he was her only son and she is a widow. 
 
 " My mother ! give my love to my mother," 
 was his last cry as the waters closed over him. 
 The rest were all saved. 
 
 My brother has positively forbidden all future 
 skating by Maggie. She does not need the 
 prohibition ; she is too thoroughly frightened to 
 venture again on the ice. 
 
 For my part, I think it an unsuitable, indeco- 
 rous amusement for young ladies. But, as I 
 remind Robert, I am an old maid, with a long 
 neck, from Down East name of Miss Phillissa. 
 
 I must not forget to answer your inquiries in 
 regard to the 'Squire. He does admirably. He 
 is growing in politeness and good-nature, as 
 well as in grace. A really execrable beef-steak, 
 which no mortal power could masticate, made 
 the tour of our breakfast-table this morning 
 without exciting remark ; though I may as well 
 confess that the 'Squire's looks were sufficiently 
 eloquent without words. He and Mrs. Peyton 
 are the best of friends. I must tell vou how it
 
 124 Miss Phillissas Letters. 
 
 happened. She had observed with consider- 
 able vexation that he looked with doubt and 
 suspicion upon her repeated visits to me, and, 
 being a woman, she was not long in fathoming 
 the cause. She has courage as well as refine- 
 ment, and she has likewise the straightforward 
 speech and manner of your humble correspond- 
 ent. So she did not wait for long years of 
 social intercourse to annihilate the 'Squire's 
 bugbear, but attacked it at once. 
 
 " I do not come here to see you," she said to 
 him. " I come always to see your sister. I 
 like you very well, but I like her much better. 
 I know that you cannot see me here without 
 remembering that I am a widow and that you 
 are a widower. Now, I could come here any 
 number of times without thinking of this if 
 your manner did not remind me. Let us un- 
 derstand the position. You may be in the 
 market, but I am not. If I wished to marry 
 again you would not be my choice." 
 
 For once in his life the 'Squire seemed to 
 be at a loss for words. His confusion was so 
 comical that I had to rummage all through a 
 cupboard in pretended search for something 
 lost in order to conceal the amusement I felt.
 
 Miss Phillisscfs Letters. 125 
 
 "Have you no fear of gossip, ma'am?" he 
 ?aid at last. 
 
 " Not a fear. No one who knows us both 
 would dream of associating us together, and 
 strangers will not interest themselves in the 
 matter. Be at rest ; there is no danger." 
 
 " Why have you told me this ?" 
 
 " From pure compassion, a womanly virtue. 
 I could not bear that you should suffer any dis- 
 quiet that could be so easily remedied. It is 
 better to understand the truth." 
 
 " Yes," he answered, and then sat silent a 
 long time playing with an ivory paper-knife 
 which lay on the table. But there was a secret 
 discontent that showed itself upon his face, and 
 he did not, as usual, join in our conversation. 
 
 " You seem scarcely satisfied with my at- 
 tempt to make our relations frank and easy," 
 observed Mrs. Peyton to him as she rose to 
 take leave of us. 
 
 " Well, to tell you the truth," he answered 
 honestly, " I thought your way of stating the 
 case implied that I was a sort of good-for-noth- 
 ing fellow. Is that your real opinion of me ? " 
 
 " Ah, I see. I wounded your self-love. No, 
 that is not my opinion of you. I respect you
 
 126 Miss Phillissas Letters. 
 
 for the strong points of your character, for your 
 natural ability and extensive information. Your 
 real goodness of heart, even more than your 
 acknowledged mental power, commands my es- 
 teem as it does the respect of all who know you. 
 But," she continued, smiling as she saw his face 
 brighten, " but your egotism spoils you." 
 
 " Thank you." 
 
 He was not offended ; he rarely is down- 
 right angry. He even joined her in laughing 
 over the rather odd subject of their conversa- 
 tion, but he was unusually thoughtful for sev- 
 eral days. And they are the best of friends. 
 She comes in and out with the freedom of a 
 sister, and is a favorite with us all. 
 
 She was here nearly all this morning playing 
 duets on the piano with Maggie. Her musical 
 taste is fine, and so is her style, which is plaint- 
 ive rather than brilliant. The liveliest waltz 
 breathes a certain pathos under her touch. I 
 went down stairs when I heard them begin 
 Mendelssohn's Overture to the Midsummer 
 Night's Dream. They played together admira- 
 bly. As the music went on an expression of 
 deep sadness came over Mrs. Peyton's face, and 
 I was struck, as I had been many times before,
 
 Miss Phillissas Letters. 127 
 
 with the depth of feeling which characterizes 
 her playing. I have heard those same tones 
 rendered with so little expression as to change 
 the whole scope of the composition. 
 
 " I never play this piece," she said, " without 
 recalling a dear young friend, of whom you, 
 Maggie, often remind me." 
 
 " Not unpleasantly, I hope." 
 
 " She was a gay, thoughtless young girl, lik- 
 ing society and its amusements, very fond of 
 dancing, but more passionately fond of music 
 than of any thing else. The death of her 
 mother gave her the first serious thoughts of 
 her life, and for a few months she attended 
 Church regularly and sought the society of 
 pious people. But the seriousness soon wore 
 off and left her gayer than ever. I often talked 
 with her, and did my best to win her to better 
 things ; but she would put me off with a kiss or 
 a jesting word, and tell me that I must wait for 
 age to bring her wisdom." 
 
 . "Tell me more about her," said Maggie. 
 "What became of her ? Is she living?" 
 
 " No, my dear, it is ten years since she died. 
 It was a pleasant, wintry day like this. She 
 "was preparing to leave home to spend a month
 
 128 Miss Phillissds Letters, 
 
 among the gay pleasures of the city. Her 
 trunks were partly packed when I went in, but 
 she left them to run over this overture with 
 me. She was so gay that I used to wonder at 
 her taste for classical music. We went over 
 the music twice, and then she hurried up stairs 
 to resume her packing, I still lingering at the 
 piano. Scarcely a minute had elapsed before I 
 was startled by a loud scream and a heavy 
 fall. I ran up stairs, followed by her father, 
 who happened to be in the house. She lay on 
 the floor with both hands clasped tightly upon 
 her forehead. 
 
 " Her father raised her in his arms, suppos- 
 ing at first that her fall was accidental. But 
 one glance at her face, which was almost purple 
 from the pressure of blood to her head, showed 
 us her real danger. He laid her on the bed 
 and I ran for help, but we soon saw that it was 
 in vain. She knew it too. 
 
 " ' Eliza, dear Eliza, do you know that you 
 are dying ?' I cried in such agony of mind as I 
 never before experienced. 
 
 " ' Yes.' I could just hear the whispered 
 answer." 
 
 " ' Are you afraid ? '
 
 Miss Phillissas Letters. 129 
 
 " ' O, yes ! ' These words were spoken aloud, 
 but she breathed her last in uttering them." 
 
 " Dreadful ! " said Maggie, shuddering. " I 
 shall never care to play this piece again." 
 
 " My dear girl," said Mrs. Peyton, " the music 
 is none the less beautiful because of this sad 
 association. Shall I tell you why I have told 
 you this ? It is because I so earnestly desire to 
 have you feel how unsafe it is to delay one mo- 
 ment in seeking a preparation for death." 
 
 Maggie colored, hesitated, looked at me, and 
 then said in a low voice, "Aunt 'Lissa, I some- 
 times think I am a Christian. I want to be 
 one. Not just a professor of religion, like many 
 careless Church-members, for that would be 
 worse than nothing ; but a real, thorough Bible 
 Christian. That night when I was so nearly 
 drowned was a dreadful night to me. I kept 
 thinking what a mercy it was that Robert was 
 there. But what if he had not recognized me, 
 and had saved that poor boy instead ? What 
 would have become of me ? It was impossible 
 to sleep with all those awful thoughts rushing 
 into my mind. I have many times prayed for 
 a new heart, but never so earnestly as then. 
 And I think," said Maggie, looking down and
 
 1 30 Miss Pliillissas Letters. 
 
 coloring with embarrassment as she made her 
 profession, " I think that God heard my prayers 
 at last. I felt so peaceful, so happy ! I cannot 
 tell you how sweet it was, and I have felt it 
 ever since. Robert thinks my heart has been 
 really changed, but then he cannot see into it 
 as God does. But I am sure of one thing, I 
 want to serve God and to enjoy his love. And 
 I shall not stop trying to do this so long as I 
 live." 
 
 I need not tell you, dearest Kate, how truly 
 I rejoice over this, my pet lamb of the flock. 
 Cora and Leonore seem to be of a different na- 
 ture ; they are meek and gentle, like their 
 mother. 
 
 Maggie resembles my brother. She has a 
 resolute will of her own, which would often 
 make her disagreeable were it not for her affec- 
 tionate heart. 
 
 Our kitchen maid, Ann, is in a state of great 
 anxiety about the 'Squire. She has lived in 
 the family fifteen years, and is much attached 
 to him. She thinks he is " ripening for heaven 
 surely," because he has ceased to find fault. 
 The coffee suits, beefsteak ditto, muffins ditto, 
 etc. The humps have all disappeared from his
 
 Miss Phillissa's Letters. 131 
 
 mattress, and the counterpane is beautifully 
 straight. 
 
 You have seen in the papers an account of 
 the revival in our Church. It was ended in the 
 usual way. Some of the sisters began to plan 
 a Church fair. There has been a debt on the 
 church for a dozen years, and it was proposed 
 to take advantage of the general interest in re- 
 ligious matters to get up a big fair, pay the 
 debt, and make a handsome present to the min- 
 ister. The pastor and the more spiritually- 
 minded Church-members objected strongly. 
 They thought it would divert the public mind 
 from its most important interest, and our min- 
 ister declared that he wished for no gift that 
 must be gained at such a price. 
 
 Dear Kate, did you ever know a fair to be 
 given up when two or three women had once 
 laid their heads together and determined on 
 one ? The approbation of the pastor and the 
 leading Church-members is very good if it can 
 be had, but it is not necessary. 
 
 Well, the ladies had their fair, and a grand 
 occasion it was. "It was tip-top," said Bessy 
 Layton, one of the rudest girls in the parish. 
 " Tip-top as good as a ball or the theater."
 
 1 32 Miss PJiillissas Letters. 
 
 It was held in the vestry of the church, which 
 had been once dedicated to the service of God. 
 There were tableaux, comic songs, theatrical 
 acting, a post-office, and grab-box. But the 
 chief interest was divided between the refresh- 
 ment-tables and a variety of lotteries, which 
 last, being forbidden by the laws of our State, 
 had very appropriately taken refuge in the 
 Church. 
 
 The debt is paid, the minister has received 
 his present and been blessed in spite of himself, 
 and, instead of the fervent prayer-meetings of 
 the early winter, we are having a series of sur- 
 prise parties, which take exceedingly well among 
 the young people. 
 
 Cora is to be married very soon. My brother 
 has ceased to object to the young minister's pov- 
 erty, and we are all busy with the preparations 
 for the itinerant housekeeping. 
 
 I went with the young couple to a meeting 
 held in a forlorn-looking school-house in a for- 
 lorn-looking neighborhood about five miles down 
 the shore. I had never heard my intended 
 nephew preach, and indeed had scarcely become 
 acquainted with him at all. He is very quiet 
 and diffident in his manner, and seldom speaks
 
 Miss Phillissa's Letters. 133 
 
 in company unless he is spoken to I have 
 often rallied Cora upon his silence, and asked 
 her how it was possible for a dumb man to 
 preach. 
 
 She always laughed contentedly and answered, 
 " Come and see." 
 
 I will confess that I have seldom been more 
 astonished than I was when he commenced the 
 service. Every trace of bashful embarrass- 
 ment had vanished. An inexpressible dignity 
 of manner gave authority to the gracious words 
 he uttered, and there was a musical fullness and 
 power in his voice which bore no resemblance 
 to the weak, hesitating utterance that character- 
 ized him in society. 
 
 " He is cut out for a preacher, there is no 
 doubt of that," I admitted to Cora when we 
 were discussing the sermon at home, " but how 
 will he manage about pastoral visiting ? " 
 
 " I must visit with him, Aunt 'Lissa," she 
 answered quietly, " and make it as easy as I 
 can." 
 
 The school-house where he preached was an 
 old-style affair, with seats running all round the 
 room, and sharp-edged shelves at the back for 
 the convenience of writing. These last served
 
 134 Miss Phillissas Letters. 
 
 as seats for the people, and the little room was 
 crowded. 
 
 Just after the opening exercises, when we 
 were settling ourselves into the easiest attitudes 
 for listening to the sermon, I saw through the 
 window a woman running toward the house. 
 She had a blanket pinned over her head, but, al- 
 though it was a cold day, I saw that she wore 
 no stockings. 
 
 As she entered the room she just glanced 
 round for an unoccupied seat, but seeing none 
 she seated herself on the low platform by the 
 speaker's desk. Not another look did she be- 
 stow upon the audience, but with her head 
 thrown a little back to enable her to see the 
 preacher, she listened to him as if every word 
 were a sentence of life or death. 
 
 I could scarcely keep my eyes from her face. 
 It was very plain, but as the sermon went on 
 and her eyes softened with tears, or brightened 
 with hopeful smiles, she became beautiful with 
 spiritual loveliness. She hurried away as soon 
 as the audience was dismissed, not stopping to 
 speak to any one. 
 
 " Who is she ? " I asked of a woman near me. 
 " What is her name ? "
 
 Miss P/iillissa's Letters. 135 
 
 " Lovel Martha Lovel Tim Level's wife." 
 
 " Where does she live ? " 
 
 "Just round the point Her husband drinks 
 awfully, and abuses her for coming to meeting. 
 She'll catch it when she gets home." 
 
 " Has she any children ? " 
 
 " Seven of them ; one is a baby. She has to 
 support them all. Something of a job, ma'am, 
 with the prices where they are now." 
 
 " I should think so, indeed. Do you ever 
 visit her ? " 
 
 " I ? Why, they live in a little hut no bigger 
 than a pig-pen. I wouldn't stay there half an 
 hour for ten dollars." 
 
 " But she lives there, you say," I urged. 
 
 " Well, she is used to it, I suppose." 
 
 " Has she no neighbors ? " 
 
 " No. She will have nothing to do with the 
 low set her husband mates with, and, of course, 
 better people look down upon her. It is a 
 pity," said the woman, "for the children are 
 always well-behaved, and they look tidy though 
 they wear patches of all colors. Little Jemmy 
 is a real smart boy, and he'd be called a beauty 
 anywhere else. And Martha herself always 
 looks clean. I should give right up if I was in
 
 1 36 Miss Phillissas Letters. 
 
 her place, but there is nothing like being used 
 to a thing." 
 
 " Is she a Church-member ? " 
 
 "O, yes!" 
 
 "Are you?" 
 
 She colored, but answered readily, " Yes." 
 
 " And she is one of Christ's poor one of the 
 little ones committed to his people in sacred 
 trust. In the day of judgment somebody will 
 be held responsible for her false position among 
 his followers. Somebody will be told before the 
 assembled universe, ' Inasmuch as ye did it not 
 to this woman, one of the least of my disciples, 
 ye did it not unto me.' " 
 
 " My husband is waiting for me, ma'am. 
 Good-day." 
 
 I had only to tell this to our home-circle to 
 awaken an active interest in the poor woman 
 and her family. Cora and Leonore drove over 
 to see her the next morning, and my brother 
 gave a liberal sum to be expended for her ben- 
 efit. Robert and Maggie spent a whole day in 
 driving about from house to house collecting 
 flour, meal, butter, and the various things which 
 go to stock a pantry. They went in the great 
 farm wagon, and Maggie said that they begged
 
 Miss Phillissa's Letters. 137 
 
 at every door. Some contributed clothing, and 
 some gave money, and several farmers offered 
 to employ the drunken husband if he could be 
 persuaded to give up drinking. 
 
 "Now," said Maggie, "it would be a real 
 pleasure to take all this to her if we could be 
 sure the old toper would never get a bite of it 
 at all." 
 
 " He may reform," said Robert encouragingly. 
 
 Maggie's face expressed her doubts. "It is 
 only in stories that such things happen. And 
 this is real life, you know." 
 
 " Yes ; and so was Dan Bent's case in real 
 life. He reformed." 
 
 " ' Blessed are they who expect nothing, for 
 they shall not be disappointed/ " quoted Maggie 
 gravely. 
 
 I look at the bright young face, and then 
 catching the sweetness of Cora's smile, I sadly 
 ask myself what will the home-place be when 
 its young bloom is removed to grace other 
 dwellings ? My brother seems to read my 
 thoughts, and says, with a gentleness which is 
 becoming habitual, 
 
 " It must be so, Phillissa. The young birds 
 will seek out nests for themselves. But we
 
 1 38 Miss Phillissas Letters. 
 
 will grow old here together and make a home 
 for each other." 
 
 I ought to be thankful, Kate, and I think I 
 am. Maggie and Leonore will be near us, and 
 Cora, wherever she may wander, will call this 
 place her home. The argumentative neighbors 
 still come in of an evening, but it does not an- 
 noy me as of old. A gentler spirit seems to 
 rule, and confident assertions of opinion and 
 contradiction often yield to loving truth and 
 reason. So good-by, my dear friend. God 
 ever bless and keep you ! PHJLLISSA.
 
 Natural History, \ 39 
 
 NATURAL HISTORY. 
 
 A FEW ILLUSTRATIONS OF THE SPECIES " BORE." 
 
 3TLT was a raw, cold morning in March, too 
 
 (sk unpleasant for any body to go out, and not 
 
 pleasant enough for any body to come in 
 
 just such a morning in fact as a tidy house- 
 keeper loves to see, when, the week's washing 
 and ironing being done, the universal mending 
 and sorting comes under her inspection. It was 
 such an occupation that the ever-busy fingers 
 of Emily Howard, the wife of our minister, were 
 engaged, and although she was one of the 
 most cheerful and brisk little housekeepers in 
 the world, it must be confessed that a look of 
 dismay settled upon her face as she unfolded 
 piece after piece of boyish attire and surveyed 
 the various rents therein. 
 
 Who is not thankful when a good old maiden 
 aunt, with plenty of leisure at her command, 
 presents herself, thimble and needle in hand, in 
 
 such a domestic crisis as this ? Aunt Phebe's 
 10
 
 Nattirftl Hist try. 
 
 kind face never looked dearer than when it 
 peered into the door on this particular morning. 
 As soon as the work was sorted out, and the 
 business of replacing a button here and a stray 
 tape there was finally commenced, Aunt Phebe 
 turned to her niece and said, 
 
 " Have you heard, Emily, about the lady who 
 is giving lectures in Snowton ? " 
 
 " Yes, aunt." 
 
 " She has wonderful talents I am told. I 
 should like to hear her. Don't you think, my 
 dear, that Mr. Howard will invite her to lecture 
 in his pulpit if she comes here ? " 
 
 The young minister's wife raised her eyes 
 and her hands beseechingly. 
 
 " Don't, Aunt Phebe," she exclaimed, " pray, 
 don't mention the thing to George. There is 
 nothing so sure to give him the blues as the 
 advent of one of those self-commissioned lectur- 
 ers or lecturesses. And I confess I am almost 
 as bad as he is." 
 
 " Why, what is the matter ? " asked the old 
 lady in some astonishment ; " it is a free country. 
 Haven't they a right to lecture if they choose 
 to do so ? Don't be unreasonable, Emmy." 
 
 " If the right to lecture were all that they
 
 Natural History. 141 
 
 required I would not object, though I should 
 think they might be better employed ; but, aunt, 
 their rights should not be suffered to infringe 
 upon the rights of others." 
 
 " I don't understand you." 
 
 " Why, don't you know that they expect to 
 be conveyed from place to place, and to be 
 sumptuously boarded and lodged at other peo- 
 ple's expense? Don't you know that whenever 
 they make a descent they expect that the 
 plans of pastor and people, and often the regu- 
 lar religious services, must lie dormant while 
 they ride their hobby unasked ? And don't 
 you know that they expect a liberal remunera- 
 tion for their services ? " 
 
 " Why, Emily, how hot you are ! It is too 
 bad to grudge them the necessaries of life, 
 when, as I've often heard, they spend their 
 time and strength to advance the great inter- 
 ests of society." 
 
 " They remind me of a strolling exhorter in 
 Connecticut, who complained piteously that he 
 had gone about doing good till every body 
 hated him !" 
 
 Ah ! Emily, Emily ! " 
 
 " Please do not frown and shake your head,
 
 142 Natural History. 
 
 aunty. Let me give you a little of my experi- 
 ence, and see if you have then a heart to scold 
 me. We had been married and keeping house 
 about six weeks, when the first strolling claim- 
 ant upon our bounty and services appeared. 
 He was a reformed inebriate, and had come 
 from a neighboring State to enlighten us. No 
 temperance society authorized him nothing 
 but pure benevolence. The Washington ian 
 fever was then at its height, and our townsmen 
 participated in the excitement. So George, 
 being inexperienced in such matters, gave him 
 leave to lecture in his pulpit. He was so poorly 
 dressed that we were ashamed of him, and to 
 make him presentable taxed the limited ward- 
 robe of George rather heavily. As we walked to 
 the lecture we indulged at least I did in many 
 forebodings, and the crowded house only served 
 to strengthen them. He opened his theme 
 very well indeed, and told in pathetic language 
 of the ruin and sorrow that his love for rum 
 had occasioned, and I drew a long breath of 
 relief as I noticed the interest of the audience. 
 But very soon he began to detail minutely the 
 particulars of each drunken carouse, using the 
 vile bar-room language to express his thoughts.
 
 Natural History. 143 
 
 Presently a powerful oath slipped out, and then 
 another, and I with several other ladies rose 
 and left the house. George stayed behind ; but 
 the audience began to be restless, and finally 
 groaned and hissed the speaker down. Now, 
 aunt, after all this public mortification I was 
 obliged to receive him as a guest for the night, 
 and to serve him as I would an honored friend, 
 because ministers are expected to be examples 
 of hospitality." 
 
 " It was very trying, my dear, I have no 
 doubt. But such things do not often occur." 
 
 " Oftener than you suppose. We have more 
 or less of these annoyances to fear every year." 
 
 " Are you never paid for the trouble and ex- 
 pense of their stay with you?" 
 
 " Paid ! Who do you suppose pays us ? Very 
 often we are not thanked even ; and once, a 
 lecturer who had stopped with us a few days to 
 recruit his strength and bring up his corre- 
 spondence using, by the way, my writing-desk 
 and its contents, including postage stamps 
 told me the morning he left that my cooking 
 was more suited to hogs than to the human 
 race ! Paid, indeed ! At such times I am like 
 the head-waiter at a hotel, with this difference
 
 144 Natural History. 
 
 he gets wages, I do not. What are you laugh- 
 ing at, Aunt Phebe?" 
 
 "At your warmth of expression, I think. 
 What was your next experience ? " 
 
 "Very much like the first, excepting the 
 public shame. It would take a great while to 
 particularize every case. I think that the good 
 lady who was trying so earnestly last summer 
 to dive into the design of Providence in creating 
 fleas, mosquitoes, and bed-bugs, would confer a 
 favor on science in general if she would extend 
 her investigations till she ascertains for what 
 purpose these strolling orators were invented." 
 
 " Stop, stop, Emily, you are going too far." 
 
 "Wait till Igive you another item of my ex- 
 perience before you judge. It was Monday 
 morning, not a year ago, and in common with 
 other people we were washing and otherwise 
 tidying matters about the house. Our work 
 progressed encouragingly ; and George having 
 consented to a cold lunch instead of a dinner, 
 we began, at eleven o'clock, to get very encour- 
 aging glimpses of the end of the necessary dis- 
 order, and of the consequent leisure for rest. I 
 forgot to tell you that an agent for some benev- 
 olent object, not connected with our Church
 
 Natural History. 145 
 
 but under the control of his own, had passed 
 the Sabbath with us, and presented the claims 
 of the society to our people, and his own claim 
 upon our hospitality to us. Jessie, our hired 
 girl, had just been expressing the satisfaction 
 she had felt in his departure, or, as she phrased 
 it, in 'seeing the back seam o' his stockings,' 
 and I was dusting the parlor, which had as 
 usual been turned out of doors, when, without 
 ringing the bell, or even rapping, in walked a 
 tall, gaunt, threadbare specimen of humanity, 
 and unasked took off his hat and overcoat and 
 placed them on the hat-tree. He then pro- 
 ceeded leisurely to seat himself in my best 
 rocking-chair. I stood still a moment, duster 
 in hand, mute with astonishment. Was / at 
 home, or was he? He soon commenced a rapid 
 introduction of himself and his mission. He 
 was a lecturer, and his mission was to annihilate 
 choir singing in churches, and to put musical 
 instruments out of existence. He was not mer- 
 cenary. His labors were all gratuitous, given 
 freely out of love for the cause. He only re- 
 quired in turn that his few wants should be 
 supplied, and such collections taken after his 
 lectures as would secure him from need and
 
 146 Natural History* 
 
 keep his mind free from care. More than this 
 he had never asked during thirty long years 
 that he had spent, like one of old, in ' going up 
 and down the earth, and walking to and fro in 
 : .t.' He did not now propose to lecture, some 
 future time must do for that, for he had ex- 
 hausted himself in the work of his mission, 
 and his poor old bones needed rest. He had 
 suffered much from the world in general and 
 from clergymen in particular. They had not 
 always appreciated him. Their wives here he 
 gave me a searching glance had not always 
 rendered him the attentions that his feeble age 
 required. 
 
 " George now came in, and I descended to the 
 kitchen to confer with Jessie about the dinner. 
 I caught her listening at the- back parlor door. 
 She had heard the old man's harangue, and her 
 face was a study then. I couldn't reprove her 
 for eaves-dropping, for I rightly conjectured that 
 her motive had been to ascertain the probability 
 of having to cook a dinner. 
 
 " ' Can you go to the market, Jessie ?' 
 " ' The market, indade ! An me in the suds ! 
 An it's the cold baked baans, shure, that's good 
 for the like o' him.'
 
 Natural History. 147 
 
 " ' I am afraid he is particular. He says he 
 is ill, Jessie.' 
 
 " ' Shure for ye ! An its mate that's too 
 hearty for the wake stomach. He's wantin' 
 some wather broth, misthress. O, darlin', lave 
 the dinner to me !' 
 
 "' Do you think you can manage it ?' 
 
 " ' Intirely.' 
 
 " Pleased by her confident manner, I returned 
 to assist George in the entertainment of our 
 guest. He was extremely talkative, and now 
 that I had leisure to observe him I thought 
 him very disagreeable. No matter what theme 
 George happened to introduce, he invariably 
 talked of himself and his lectures. Cicero him- 
 self never had so high an opinion of his own 
 oratory. 
 
 " He soon let us know that he had an espe- 
 cial antipathy to children, and to the children of 
 clergymen in particular. He had been in many 
 ministers' families, he told us, sometimes for 
 weeks at a time, and he had been uniformly dis- 
 gusted with the children. He began to specify 
 cases, some of them among our acquaintances, 
 and was just expressing a charitable hope that 
 our house at least was free from the nuisance,
 
 148 Natural History, 
 
 when our noisy boys, just let loose from school, 
 came laughing and clattering up the stairs. 
 They hushed their voices instantly on seeing a 
 stranger, but went directly to him and offered 
 to shake hands. He pushed his chair back 
 suddenly as far as he could. 
 
 " ' Go away ! ' he said sternly ; ' I don't like 
 noisy children.' 
 
 " Fred and Clarence shrunk out of the room 
 quite abashed and silent ; but a twinkle of 
 mirth in the provoked expression of Fred's eye 
 showed that they required no condolence; so I 
 remained in the room. Just then I saw Jessie 
 go through the sitting-room. 
 
 " ' You may put plates on the table for six/ I 
 called to her ; ' it will make your work lighter 
 if you and the children dine with us.' 
 
 " George nearly laughed out at what he after- 
 ward called my spicy spite. 
 
 " At the table our guest took it upon himself 
 to correct the boys' behavior. I confess that I 
 never before saw them behave so awkwardly. 
 They made blunder after blunder. The un- 
 wonted sense of being watched by censorious 
 eyes took all the ease and natural grace that 
 they possessed from their manners, and Fred, I
 
 Nattiral History. 149 
 
 think, was several times purposely boorish. He 
 overset a large pitcher of water, plentifully 
 showering Jessie's 'coold baans,' and nearly 
 drowning the pudding. George took no notice, 
 and Jessie was evidently delighted. 
 
 " ' Niver you mind,' she said, reaching across 
 the table to assist them ; ' here's the nice bread 
 and butter for ye. Help yerselves, darlin's.' 
 
 " ' Mr. Howard,' said the lecturer a moment 
 later, ' I shall be obliged to leave the table if 
 that boy is allowed to lick his knife and then 
 put it into the butter.' 
 
 " ' Use the butter-knife, Frederick/ said 
 George, without looking up. 
 
 " It will be needless to tell you any thing 
 more about that meal, or the succeeding ones ; 
 but it is certain that by the time our visitor 
 had got thoroughly recruited, our boys had be- 
 come so disorderly that they might well have 
 furnished him with a new and not very flatter- 
 ing story to relate at his next halting-place. 
 
 " He has visited us once since that time; but 
 I hardly think he will come again ; for, knowing 
 the sort of person I had to deal with, I treated 
 him with such freezing civility as made him 
 rather uncomfortable, and he only remained two
 
 1 50 Natural History. 
 
 days with us. I hope, at any rate that we have 
 seen the last of him. Now, Aunt Phebe, what 
 right has he to stroll around the country and 
 sponge his living out of clergymen, and people 
 generally ? " 
 
 " Well, my dear, he is an old man." 
 
 " He did it when he was young, aunt ; he has 
 spent the prime of life in this manner, and re- 
 paid kindness with abuse. There are young 
 men too that get their living in the same busi- 
 ness. The cool impertinence with which they 
 present themselves, and make their exorbitant 
 demands upon our time and money, is the most 
 vexatious of all. Of course we cannot bear to 
 turn a person directly out of doors. And if 
 George does not heartily co-operate with them 
 in their designs, he is misrepresented and abused 
 as if he were opposed to all that is good." 
 
 "All lecturers do not surely belong to this 
 class, Emily." 
 
 " No ; O no ! But the respectable lecturer 
 does not intrude his services unasked. We 
 know the difference very well." 
 
 " The whole class should not be condemned 
 for the sins of a few. We must have charity, 
 Emilv."
 
 Natural History. 151 
 
 Good Aunt Phebe was a peacemaker in the 
 best sense ; she couldn't bear to think evil of 
 any one. 
 
 " I am only speaking of cases where charity 
 is out of the question. Do you remember that 
 shabbily dressed colored man who came to our 
 house last week?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " He is a lecturer upon the subject of slavery, 
 of the Garrison school, I believe. George gave 
 him a good coat and a pair of boots ; but he 
 couldn't in conscience introduce him into his 
 pulpit, and allow him to rail in public at all who 
 believe in the rights of the white man as well 
 as in those of the slave. So he became angry ; 
 and yesterday he went from house to house in 
 our parish, wearing the coat and boots, and try- 
 ing to raise a breeze against the minister. Now, 
 you know, aunt, that George is a thorough-going 
 antislavery man." 
 
 " It is too bad, I will own ; but you know, 
 my dear, that no one will be prejudiced by him. 
 Besides, the poor fellow iswery ignorant, and 
 probably attributes Mr. Howard's refusal to his 
 color." 
 
 "Very likely. But when you came in, aunt,
 
 1 52 Ntitural History. 
 
 you spoke of a lady who is lecturing in Snovton. 
 She is not unknown to me. I met her in Rhode 
 Island two years ago, at the house of a friend. 
 I will tell you how it happened. She came 
 I here, unexpectedly, to lecture. Mr. Ellington, 
 who is my friend's husband, is a clergyman. 
 He had several times heard of the intention of 
 some lecturesses to honor him with a visit, and 
 had sent short but decisive notes to them de- 
 clining the honor. He had even hinted to par- 
 ticular friends his resolution to turn those 
 strolling oratoresses from his door if they pre- 
 sumed to come without consulting his wishes. 
 But on that particular Saturday was the great 
 March gale of 1854. Many buildings in the 
 neighborhood were blown down, and the rail- 
 way station-house was unroofed. In the midst 
 of it all we saw a lady struggling with the wind 
 in her endeavors to reach our door. Of course 
 the door was thrown open and she was assisted 
 to enter ; but' what was the consternation of our 
 friend when she introduced herself as a temper- 
 ance lecturess. She proposed giving a course 
 of lectures if suitable encouragement were of- 
 fered, and had intended to hive commenced 
 operations that very night, but had been so
 
 Natural History. 153 
 
 delayed by the gale that she had decided to defer 
 it till Sunday evening. Mr. Ellington listened 
 in silence ; and when she at last paused to take 
 breath, he coolly directed her to apply to the 
 trustees of the church for liberty to use it. 
 
 " ' I wish to make an engagement with you, sir. 
 I have nothing to do with the trustees of the 
 house. You can, of course, arrange such mat- 
 ters with them. I think very few trustees would 
 object to any use of the church that was ap- 
 proved by their pastor.' 
 
 " ' But I do not approve of your lecturing.' 
 " She was not unprepared for this, and I saw 
 by a sidelong glance that she gave him that she 
 was aware of his opinions upon the subject of 
 feminine decorum and modesty, and also that 
 she was determined to carry her point. 
 
 " ' I have a variety of testimonials written by 
 clergymen, some of them particularly recom- 
 mending me to you, sir ; I shall be obliged if 
 you will look them over.' 
 
 " ' It is wholly unnecessary, madam ' 
 " ' Here are notices of the press,' she contin- 
 ued, producing from her reticule a number of 
 little slips, cut from newspapers, extolling her 
 merits ns a speaker, and describing the crowds
 
 1 54 Natural History. 
 
 who had listened entranced to her persuasive 
 eloquence. 
 
 " ' Here is proof, if you require it, of my 
 ability to speak.' 
 
 "'I have expressed no doubt on that subject, 
 
 I believe,' he replied ; ' the propriety of your so 
 
 publicly exercising your talent is what I consider 
 
 questionable. I can give you no assistance in 
 
 the matter.' 
 
 " ' But if I see your trustees,' she said, ' and 
 they do not object, you will at least introduce 
 me to the audience ? ' 
 
 " ' Mr. Ellington hesitated ; but feeling sure 
 that the good sense of his brethren would ex- 
 clude her from his pulpit, and being desirous to 
 end the matter as courteously as possible, he 
 replied in the affirmative. 
 
 " All this time she had been awaiting an in- 
 vitation to remain as a guest in the family dur- 
 ing her stay in the place. She threw out various 
 hints to that effect, none of which were noticed ; 
 but the increasing severity of the gale accom- 
 plished what all her management was unequal 
 to. So an invitation to tea was at length given, 
 not very cordially, perhaps, for the experience 
 of my friends had long before taught them, that
 
 Natural History. 155 
 
 when once the professed stroller's hat and cloak 
 are off, it is impossible to tell when they will be 
 resumed." 
 
 " Did she stay ; and pray, did she lecture 
 after all ? " 
 
 " Yes, Aunt Phebe, she stayed and she lec- 
 tured. She obtained the consent of the trust- 
 ees, and poor Mr. Ellington introduced her to 
 the audience." 
 
 " What sort of a woman is she, Emily ? At- 
 tractive ? " 
 
 " Quite the reverse. She has a low, narrow 
 forehead, with very abundant yellow hair. She 
 has lost her front teeth, and squints fearfully." 
 
 " How old is she ? " 
 
 " Forty-two." 
 
 " Married, or single ? " 
 
 " A widow with seven children." 
 
 " Goodness ! Who supports them ? " 
 
 "She gets large collections wherever she 
 goes. The novelty of public female eloquence 
 helps her, and then she tells a really pitiful 
 story. Lecturing was her only resource, she 
 said, for she had always disliked manual labor. 
 'You know, my dear Mrs. Howard/ she said 
 
 to me. ' that when a person thoroughly dislikes 
 11
 
 1 56 Natural History. 
 
 any occupation, it is not likely to prove re- 
 munerative.' 
 
 " ' But a more womanly occupation would be 
 less perplexing/ I replied. ' It would at least 
 save you from many a cool reception in families 
 upon whose hospitality you have no claim.' " 
 
 " ' O ! we do not mind such things in the least. 
 We know them to be incident to our profession, 
 and take them easily. Habit does a great deal, 
 and unflinching firmness is a great leveler of 
 obstacles.' The indifferent air with which she 
 said this cannot be described." 
 
 " How did Mr. Ellington take all this ? " 
 
 " He was greatly perplexed ; not, however, by 
 the disagreeable necessity of entertaining her, 
 but by the prospect of her lecturing. She was 
 both dirty and shabby. Her whole appearance 
 was so much against her as to wholly destroy 
 his faith in the newspaper accounts of her elo- 
 quence. I think he believed that she wrote 
 those puffs herself." 
 
 " Well, she lectured." 
 
 " Yes. We kept her from church during the 
 day, and having over night mended and brushed 
 her apparel, we washed her ourselves in strong 
 soap-suds, and dressed her hair, so that in the
 
 Natural History. 157 
 
 evening she looked more presentable. Besides, 
 Mr. Ellington managed to have her stand in 
 the altar, where the light did not fall directly 
 upon her, to the manifest discomfiture of some 
 gentlemen near me, who tried in vain to find 
 out if she were beautiful." 
 
 " But the lecture, Emily." 
 
 " Yes, it was very good indeed, and was mem- 
 orized perfectly. Those who had not been be- 
 hind the scenes pronounced her a talented 
 woman, and many shed tears as she portrayed 
 the domestic trials she had experienced. The 
 collection was a liberal one, and the whole affair 
 passed off admirably." 
 
 " Were the lectures her own ? " 
 
 " No. She let me into some of the secrets 
 of the trade. She had been trained to declaim 
 them. ' Ah ! ' said a good old lady to me at the 
 close of that lecture, ' she feels every word she 
 says.' She should have heard her, after our 
 return home, when she declared that she was 
 heartily sick of her theme, and was only wait- 
 ing to get round once more, to commence the 
 advocacy of women's rights My dear aunt, I 
 have not selected the most trying or the most 
 ridiculous of our experiences in this line. S:>
 
 153 Natural History. 
 
 long as good kind souls like yourself cheerfully 
 hold open their purses for their benefit, so long 
 will those unauthorized speech-makers go prowl- 
 ing about, and so long shall we be annoyed by 
 their intrusion into our houses. And till cler- 
 gymen peril their reputation for hospitality by 
 turning them out of doors, we may be sure that 
 they will assert a heavy claim upon the minis- 
 terial larder. From such ' squatter sovereignty,' 
 good Lord, deliver us 1 "
 
 Provoking to Love and Good Works. 1 59 
 
 " PROVOKING ONE ANOTHER TO 
 LOVE AND GOOD WORKS." 
 
 HE was eighty years old. She sat by the 
 only window that lighted her small room, 
 and watched the last short sunset of the 
 old year. A heavy fall of snow covered the 
 ground and the roofs of the houses, and white- 
 ened the pine forest on the other side of the 
 miniature lake. All night and all day it had 
 been snowing steadily, but at last the sky looked 
 out blue and clear just in time to let the sinking 
 sun once more brighten the face of the depart- 
 ing year. 
 
 Here and there were seen stout men and 
 frolicksome boys shoveling the snow from the 
 paths about their homes, or making a way for 
 the thirsty cattle to some adjacent spring. But 
 the old lady scarcely noticed these renewed 
 signs of life. Her thoughts were with the past, 
 away back to those happy New Years' eves 
 when she was a careless child, and only thought
 
 1 60 Provoking to Love and Good Works. 
 
 of the toys and pleasures of the holidays. Sev- 
 enty years is a long time to look back ; but she 
 well remembered the coral necklace clasped with 
 gold, that her father had placed upon her neck 
 on the morning of her tenth New-Year's day ! 
 She was married on New-Year's eve. Sixty- 
 two years ago she came, a fair young wife, to be 
 the mistress of the large gray-stone house now 
 falling to decay on that gentle eminence at the 
 south. In the summer it is hidden by the trees, 
 but we can see it now that the willows and 
 birches have lost their foliage. Fair sons and 
 daughters grew up around her, till eleven youth- 
 ful faces smiled around the hearth, and the 
 music of childish voices filled the wide rooms. 
 But only one of all the household band lived 
 to be twenty years old. Whether the fatal 
 family malady, consumption, spared this one 
 was never known, for she was thrown from a 
 carriage and killed while riding with her father, 
 who was driving a young horse not accustomed 
 to the harness. All the rest sickened and died, 
 one after another, just as life spread its bright- 
 est prospects before them. Fair, beautiful blos- 
 soms they were, but too delicate for their loveli- 
 ness to endure.
 
 Provoking to Love and Good Works. 161 
 
 It was a sad change in the great house when 
 those clear young voices were hushed forever. 
 The old lady shuddered as she remembered the 
 deserted rooms and the desolate winding paths 
 among the shrubbery outside. Still her husband 
 was spared, and for a few years they mourned 
 together and sustained each other. But at last 
 she was left alone. How well she could recall 
 those first hours of anguish when she saw in her 
 husband's diminished strength and hollow cough 
 the sure .presage of his coming doom ! The 
 unnaturally bright eye had a fearful meaning 
 for her as she met his gaze. There was no skill 
 to stay the progress of the destroyer, and the 
 sad end soon came. 
 
 Poverty came also. The splendid family prop- 
 erty passed at his death into the hands of a dis- 
 tant connection, and but a mere pittance, raised 
 from the sale of furniture and other valuables, 
 remained for the bereaved widow. 
 
 In all their trouble they had never sought 
 after God. He was not in all their thoughts. So 
 far as it was possible they forgot him entirely, 
 and when his chastening hand was laid upon 
 them they rebelled and murmured, and seemed 
 by their continued carelessness and worldliness
 
 1 62 Provoking to Love and Good Works. 
 
 to defy his power. I remember, as if it were 
 but yesterday, seeing the two youngest daugh- 
 ters, less than a year before they died, enter their 
 richly-cushioned pew in the church attired in 
 deep mourning, but with mocking smiles upon 
 their lips. There were tears in many eyes that 
 saw them, for with the memory of the fair faces 
 forever gone from that pew still fresh in their 
 hearts, it was not difficult to recognize the 
 fatal beauty of the hectic flush on each delicate 
 cheek. 
 
 There were two young men in the pew with 
 them, and they smiled and chatted together, 
 wholly unmindful of the sacred services of the 
 house of God. It was not till the preacher, 
 unable to pursue his solemn theme with such a 
 spectacle of irreverent mirth before him, severely 
 reproved them, that they seemed to be aware 
 that any deference was expected from them. It 
 was the last time they came to church. Laura 
 died in the autumn, and Annie, unable to endure 
 the solitude of home, went to spend the winter 
 amid the gayeties of the city. In May she was 
 brought home in her coffin to be buried. She 
 had ruptured a blood-vessel while dancing at a 
 ball, and lived but four hours afterward. Even
 
 Provoking to Love and Good Works. 163 
 
 in those last fearful hours vanity triumphed, and 
 all her remaining strength was spent in directing 
 how her body should be attired for the grave. 
 
 I remember very well how she looked in the 
 rich open coffin, which was lined, as she had 
 ordered, with crimson satin. Her own dress 
 was white satin, richly trimmed with lace, and 
 cut low in the neck. There were pearls on her 
 arms and neck, white flowers were wreathed in 
 her curls, and her cheeks and lips were painted ; 
 but no art could restore the sunken, half-open 
 eyes, or soften the rigidity of the features. 
 Death, unsightly death, was there, made ten- 
 fold more repulsive by the efforts to disguise its 
 presence. 
 
 But memory brings fairer pictures to the 
 old lady as she sits by the window now that 
 the shadows of night creep into the little room. 
 She is poor and decrepit with age, but she thinks 
 of the time it is twenty years ago now when, 
 humbled by long suffering, she kneeled in that 
 same room and found Jesus Christ at last to 
 be " the chiefest among ten thousand, the one 
 altogether lovely." 
 
 For twenty years her soul has been at rest, 
 and the peace of God has filled her heart, and
 
 164 Provoking to Love and Good Works. 
 
 it is a look of joyous trust and love that she 
 raises to the evening sky as she says, " It is 
 true that I have now no earthly means of sup- 
 port ; I have fuel and food for a day only ; 
 but God is my refuge and strength, and not a 
 sparrow falleth to the ground without his 
 knowledge." 
 
 Go down the street a few rods, then a short 
 turn to the right, and at the end of a narrow 
 lane you will see a low, brown cottage. A man 
 and a boy of twelve years are busily clearing 
 away the snow in front of the door, and a fat- 
 faced little girl is watching them from the win- 
 dow. As the red tints of the sunset deepen, 
 she turns quickly to a pleasant-looking woman 
 who is sewing by the fire. 
 
 " One night more, mamma, and then " 
 
 " Well, what then, child ? " 
 
 " It will be New- Year's day, mamma. O, 
 aint you glad ? " 
 
 " A little." 
 
 " I am very, very glad, mamma ; and so is 
 Benny." 
 
 " Glad of what ? " asked her father, now com- 
 ing in and sitting down by the fire " glad of 
 what, Nelly ? "
 
 Provoking to Love and Good Works. 165 
 
 " Why, it's New- Year's day to-morrow. Don't 
 you know, papa ? " 
 
 " Yes, I know so much. But what is it to 
 you, pet, more than any other day ? " 
 
 " Ask mamma. She knows, and so does 
 Benny." 
 
 " And so does papa," said her mother, hold- 
 ing up her work just completed for his inspec- 
 tion. It was a cloak for herself that had al- 
 ready been worn four winters, but now, turned 
 and refitted by her skillful fingers, and bright- 
 ened by a little new trimming, could scarcely 
 be recognized. 
 
 " Well, John, how does it look ? " 
 
 " Very well," he slowly answered. " Not just 
 like a new one, though." 
 
 " But very nice and comfortable for all that. 
 Don't you think so ? " 
 
 " And so the money that you have saved for a 
 new one is really going to buy Madam Bretton's 
 winter fuel." 
 
 " So we agreed, John, if I could make this one 
 do. See how nicely it fits across the shoulders ! 
 And the trimming matches it exactly." 
 
 " But ten dollars, Ellen, is a large sum for us 
 to give away. A great many comforts could be
 
 1 66 Provoking to Love and Good Works. 
 
 bought for ten dollars. You need new dresses ; 
 and this shell of a house, which is a hovel 
 compared to that where the old lady lives, needs 
 a great deal done to it. Besides, there is Ben- 
 ny's jacket already looking threadbare at the 
 elbows " 
 
 " Don't, John, don't talk in that way. If I 
 had spent the money for a cloak it would have 
 bought nothing else, and surely all the luxuries 
 in the world would not make us happy if we 
 knew that madam was suffering." 
 
 " But I don't think she would suffer. The 
 town would see to that." 
 
 " Do you remember, John," said his wife as 
 she turned away to hide the starting tears " do 
 you remember when she nursed me through 
 that dreadful fever when Benny was a baby ? 
 Not a neighbor dared to enter the house, and 
 you were quite worn out with waiting on me. 
 She did not wait to think of contagion, but 
 all through those miserable weeks she was an 
 angel of mercy to us all. O, John, what is ten 
 dollars compared " 
 
 " There, there, Ellen, don't say another word. 
 She is welcome to the money a thousand times. 
 I only felt a little worried and poor, because
 
 Provoking to Love and Good Works. 167 
 
 when the rent is paid to-morrow there will be 
 little left to make the house tight and comfort- 
 able for you and the children.' 
 
 " We shall manage to get along somehow," 
 returned Ellen, cheerily. " Never fear for that. 
 We have good health now, plenty of work, and 
 no debts. That is what I call being rich. Then, 
 only think, we've a whole pig salted in the cel- 
 lar, and such a heap of delicious potatoes real 
 Dovers. Why, the Queen of England never 
 tasted better ones. Then there's our wood for 
 winter all cut and stowed away. We can snap 
 our fingers at want. Poverty may look in at 
 the door if he likes, but he can't come in." 
 
 The cloud of care passed from the husband's 
 brow, and he smiled as he patted Nelly's red 
 cheek. 
 
 "We'll caulk the doors and windows, John, 
 and paper the cracks in the walls till old winter 
 is quite shut out. Bless me ! what a merry tune 
 that tea-kettle is singing ! See if you can beat 
 it, Nelly, while you help me set the table. 
 Listen! It sounds like sleigh-bells. Ting a 
 ling, ling." 
 
 " It says, ' A happy new year ! ' mamma," said 
 the child, who had listened intently.
 
 1 68 Provoking to Love and Good Works. 
 
 " It says that to you no doubt, darling, for 
 you can think of nothing else. A very sensible 
 wish, too, even for a tea-kettle to utter, and I 
 don't know who is more likely to realize it than 
 ourselves. Steady with those plates, little one. 
 Now, whose merry voice will call brother while 
 I toast the bread ? " 
 
 " You are a perfect sunbeam, Ellen," said her 
 husband. " I came in with a mountain of care 
 and anxiety on my shoulders, and it has dis- 
 appeared." 
 
 "Is it quite gone?" 
 
 " Yes. Not a shadow is left. I can't help 
 often wondering at you. Your burden is heavier 
 than mine, for these little irritating housekeep- 
 ing perplexities do not fall upon me at all. I 
 believe I should give up at once if they did, but 
 you bear up as cheerfully as if we were secure 
 against misfortune. You are always hopeful, 
 and full of bright anticipations. You are a 
 mystery, Ellen." 
 
 " ' Trust in the Lord and do good, so shalt 
 thou dwell in the land, and verily thou shait 
 be fed.' That is God's word, John, and I be- 
 lieve it." 
 
 Early in the morning Benny went to the vll-
 
 Provoking to Love and Good Works. 169 
 
 lage to take home some work that his mother 
 had finished the previous evening. It was a 
 pleasant sight to watch the little fellow as he 
 made his way through the snow. He whistled 
 and sung by turns ; he danced, and ran, and 
 whirled round on one foot, and laughed aloud 
 in his exquisite enjoyment of the frosty air. He 
 looked so bright and rosy when he at last de- 
 livered his bundle, that the lady of the house 
 called him into the parlor just to have the 
 pleasure of looking at him. It does one good 
 to see a face so full of sunshine. 
 
 There were two gentlemen and several ladies 
 in the room, and the boy tried to put on a 
 sedate look, but he couldn't. 
 
 " This snow makes fine fun for you lads," said 
 one of the gentlemen. " You enjoy it pretty 
 well, I suppose." 
 
 "Yes, sir. But" Benny's bright, dark 
 eyes glanced round at the strangers present, 
 and he hesitated. 
 
 " But what, my boy ? Speak out, don't be 
 afraid." 
 
 "Why, it's New- Year's day. I wish you a 
 happy new year, sir." 
 
 " Bravo ! " said the other gentleman, coming
 
 170 Provoking to Love and Good Works. 
 
 forward, laughing, from the window. " You 
 wish me the same, don't you ? " 
 
 "Yes, sir. And" with another shy glance 
 at the ladies " and every body." 
 
 " Indeed. And how much is it to cost ? " 
 
 The gentleman rattled some loose change in 
 his pocket. 
 
 " I don't know what you mean, sir," replied 
 Benny, a little bewildered. 
 
 " Why, you expect to be paid for your good 
 wishes, don't you ? " 
 
 " No, sir," said Benny, emphatically, " I do 
 not. Mamma says," he added in a lofty manner, 
 " that good-will is not bought or sold." 
 
 " Well done. Bravissimo ! " 
 
 " Don't tease him, Ned," said the other gen- 
 tleman. " Come here, my boy, and tell me what 
 it is that makes this such a great and happy day 
 for you." 
 
 Benny had often seen this gentleman in his 
 visits to the house with his mother's work. He 
 had seen him also in the Sabbath-school, where 
 he was one of the teachers. His kindly manner 
 and pleasant words had won his boyish regard 
 long ago, and he was quite ready to open his 
 whole heart to him.
 
 Provoking to Love and Good Works. 171 
 
 " Perhaps you don't know Madam Bretton, 
 who lives up stairs in that house by the big 
 pond where we skate in the evenings we boys, 
 I mean," Benny explained ; " and we build a 
 great fire in the middle of the pond, and we 
 skate backward, and play tag, and draw the 
 girls on our sleds like like every thing." 
 
 " To be sure." 
 
 Every body smiled at the child's enthusiasm. 
 
 " And Madam Bretton comes out and skates 
 with you," said Ned. 
 
 " Don't mind his teasing, Benny," said his 
 friend, almost laughing at the amazed look that 
 spread over the child's face at the bare idea of 
 the old lady on skates. " I have seen Madam 
 Bretton. She lives in one of your houses, 
 Ned, the one that has such a long, sloping roof. 
 Have you forgotten how you used to roll peb- 
 bles up and down on the roof on purpose to 
 tease her? A mere boyish freak," he added 
 kindly as he saw his friend's face flush at the 
 remembrance. 
 
 " But inexcusable even in a boy," was the 
 reply. " I have felt ashamed of such boyish 
 freaks, and wish I could recall them many a 
 
 time when I have been thousands of miles 
 1-2
 
 1 72 Provoking to Love and Good Works. 
 
 away. Is Madam Bretton the tenant that you 
 mentioned as being unable to pay her rent 
 longer?" 
 
 " The same." 
 
 "You said she would probably come upon 
 the town." 
 
 " But she wont go to the town, sir," inter- 
 posed Benny very decidedly. 
 
 " She wont ? " 
 
 " No, sir, because we are all helping her. 
 I was going to tell you. That is why it is so 
 pleasant and bright to-day," said Benny, look- 
 ing out to assure himself that the sun did shine 
 brighter than usual. 
 
 The gentlemen both cast a puzzled and rather 
 unbelieving look over the boy's patched clothes ; 
 but his earnest manner had greatly excited their 
 curiosity. 
 
 " Suppose you tell us all about it," said Ned. 
 
 " Well, sir, you see, she is very old, eighty 
 years old, mamma says, and we heard last week 
 that she had only wood enough to last a few 
 days and very little to eat. It made us all feel 
 very bad, for you don't know how good she 
 always was to every body when she was strong. 
 Mamma had sold eggs and had done odd jobs at
 
 Provoking to Love and Good Works. 173 
 
 different houses till she had earned enough to 
 buy a new cloak for herself, besides doing as 
 much as ever for all. It was ten dollars. Do 
 you understand, sir? " asked Benny, who seemed 
 to think his auditors were not so much im- 
 pressed as they should be at the mention of 
 such an enormous sum. 
 
 " Yes, quite well. Go on." 
 
 " I saw it all with my own eyes," said Benny. 
 " Ten silver dollars ! Well, mamma thought 
 about the old lady, and planned and contrived 
 for her, but nothing came of it till a day or two 
 ago, when she happened to think that she could 
 make over her old cloak and buy wood for 
 Madam Bretton with the money. And she did, 
 sir, and it is a real beauty, and mamma looked 
 prettier with it on this morning than " the 
 boy cast a shy, curious look at the ladies, who 
 were listening with breathless interest " than 
 any lady I ever saw." 
 
 "What, Benny, prettier than Miss Alice 
 here ? " 
 
 " O, yes, sir, a great deal." Benny's manner 
 was quite decided. " But that is not all, Mr. 
 Ned. My sister Nellie and I opened our sav- 
 ings bank this morning, and we have bought
 
 1 74 Provoking to Love and Good Works. 
 
 some tea, and sugar, and bread, and meat enough 
 to last the old lady a week. O. is not New- 
 Year's day a happy day ? " 
 
 The boy's artless story had moistened every 
 eye in the room with tears. Even Ned, fun- 
 loving Ned, just returned to his' native town 
 after ten years' foreign travel, was obliged to 
 turn to the window to conceal his emotions. 
 
 "So you see," said Benny in conclusion, 
 " that Madam Bretton wont go to the town." 
 
 " That is evident. Well, you are a happy 
 little fellow. Here is the pay for your mother's 
 work, and a dollar for yourself." 
 
 " Thank you, sir. I will get butter with it to 
 put in the basket for the old lady." 
 
 They all stood at the window to watch the 
 boy as, with renewed antics and whistling, he 
 retraced his path toward home. 
 
 " That little lad and his parents shame us 
 all," said Ned at last. 
 
 " Not if their example provokes us to love 
 and good works," said one of the ladies. " Sup- 
 pose we make up a sum sufficient to buy 
 ' mamma ' a cloak. What do you think of it, 
 Henry ? " 
 
 " It would spoil all, in my opinion. They
 
 Provoking to Love and Good Works. 175 
 
 have made a sacrifice. Let them enjoy the 
 luxury of doing good. But we can assist them 
 in making the old lady comfortable. What are 
 you thinking of, Ned ? " 
 
 " Of a plan that just occurred to me like an 
 inspiration. Hurrah ! It's just the thing if, as 
 I suspect, the lad's parents live in that brown 
 hut up the lane where aunt and I stopped to 
 leave that very bundle of work on Monday." 
 
 "That is the place. What is the plan?" 
 asked one of the ladies. 
 
 " A secret, Alice. You know, coz, that such 
 things are never intrusted to the care of your 
 sex." 
 
 The clear, cold day passed on, and another 
 sunset, as fair as the last, was brightening the 
 western sky. Benny had fed the chickens, as 
 he persisted in calling the matronly hens ; he 
 had filled the wood-box by the stove, and 
 brought in the basket of kindling-wood for 
 morning ; he had held the pincushion while 
 Nellie undressed her big rag dolly, and was 
 now whistling a low accompaniment to the 
 lullaby that the little girl was singing as she 
 rocked the said dolly to sleep. 
 
 His father had not yet come to tea, and his
 
 1 76 Provoking to Love and Good Works. 
 
 mother had not returned from Madam Bretton's, 
 where she had been all the afternoon. Benny 
 was used to staying with his sister, and never 
 found it dull work to amuse her, but to-night he 
 did wish that mamma would hurry home. He 
 wanted to know what the old lady thought of 
 her New- Year's gifts, especially the eatables 
 bought with the money he and Nelly had saved. 
 
 "Tickled half to death, I'll bet," said he 
 aloud ; " and I don't blame her. She don't get 
 such a haul every day. But there comes papa, 
 and I haven't made the tea. Well, here it goes. 
 A good strong cup for New-Year's day." 
 
 " No, Benny, make it just as usual." 
 
 " You here, mamma ? How did you come ? 
 " I have watched an hour and didn't see you. 
 Did the old lady like the tea, and the rolls, and 
 the bacon, and the butter, and " 
 
 " Stop, stop, my son. One question at a 
 time. And, first, I am here. Next, I walked 
 down the street as usual. Take care, Benny, 
 you will drop those cups." 
 
 " Mamma, what did she say of the wood ? 
 Did you tell her that Mason had offered to saw 
 it, and that I and Bob Peters are going to bring 
 it up-stairs and pile it up for her ? Didrit she
 
 Provoking to Love and Good Works. 177 
 
 think that pat of butter looked nice, mamma ? 
 Do tell me every thing." 
 
 " How can I ? You wont let me speak 
 Nellie, love, place papa's chair at the table, and 
 when we are all seated I will answer Benny's 
 questions. Papa would like to hear about it 
 too." 
 
 " Yes, to be sure I should," answered a hearty 
 voice from the little back room, where John was 
 washing his hands at the sink. 
 
 " Will you make haste, papa, please ? " urged 
 the impatient boy, who could hardly wait till the 
 blessing of God was invoked upon their humble 
 meal before he broke out afresh. 
 
 " Now, mamma, please tell us. What did the 
 old lady say when " 
 
 " Be quiet, Benny," said his father. " Now, 
 Ellen, begin at the beginning and tell us the 
 whole story. Perhaps you would like to rest 
 first." 
 
 " I am not tired, thank you. When I went in 
 I thought madam had, for her, a rather anxious 
 look. She didn't look exactly worried, only a 
 little sad. So I asked what was the matter. 
 
 " ' Nothing very bad,' she replied, ' but I heard 
 to-day that Edward Abbott has come home.
 
 178 Provoking to Love and Good Works. 
 
 He owns this house, you know, and he will be 
 anxious to rent it. The lower rooms have been 
 empty for a year now.' 
 
 " ' That is strange/ I answered, ' for they are 
 such convenient, nice rooms, I never come in 
 here without wishing we could afford to hire 
 them.' 
 
 " ' I wish you could, my dear. Two of the 
 chambers go with that tenement. I have only 
 this room and that place under the eaves where 
 I keep my wood. I have been thinking that 
 Mr. Abbott will not like to have the rooms 
 empty.' 
 
 " ' But if a family should move in you would 
 be better off. It isn't safe for you to live here 
 alone. I feel very anxious about you when we 
 have such storms as this last. What if you 
 should be taken suddenly ill ? ' 
 
 " ' I was not thinking of that, Ellen. A 
 strange family might want the whole house, and 
 I can no longer pay the rent even of this little 
 room. Don't look so troubled, my dear. It 
 will all work together for my good ; and surely 
 I, who have so often proved the goodness of my 
 Father in heaven, should not distrust him now. 
 1 le will provide.'
 
 Provoking to Love and Good Works. 1 79 
 
 " ' That is true,' said I, suddenly recollecting 
 my errand. ' Why, only think, I came over this 
 afternoon to tell you that a person, who don't 
 wish to be known, is going to send you dry wood 
 enough to last all winter. And Mason is to cut 
 it, he offered to do it, and the children will pack 
 it under the eaves for you. It will be here 
 directly. And here is a trifle from my little 
 ones, just to show that we don't forget your 
 goodness to us. They saved their pennies in- 
 stead of buying candy. John and I encouraged 
 them to do so, for candy spoils the teeth, you 
 know." 
 
 " The old lady gave one amazed look at the 
 contents of the basket, and then turned directly 
 round and kneeled down by her chair in the 
 corner. I knew she was thanking God, and I 
 hurried to put all the things in the cupboard out 
 of sight, for I didn't want her to thank me." 
 
 "Why not, mamma? She ought to, I am 
 sure." 
 
 " Ah, Benny, her silent tears of gratitude said 
 more than any words." 
 
 " But what did she say after all, mamma ? " 
 
 " She had no time to say any thing, for di- 
 rectly a sled loaded with bags, and barrels, arid
 
 1 80 Provoking to Love and Good Works. 
 
 boxes stopped at the door, and a clear, loud 
 voice asked if Madam Bretton lived there. I 
 ran down stairs to reply, and met a tall, smiling- 
 looking gentleman in the entry. 
 
 " ' I want to speak to Madam Bretton.' 
 
 " ' She lives up stairs, sir.' 
 
 "'I have a load of groceries here. Where 
 shall I put them ? ' 
 
 " ' A new tenant coming in, I suppose ? ' I 
 said. 
 
 " ' Well, yes, I hope so. Are you Benny 
 Strong's mother ? ' 
 
 "'Yes, sir.' 
 
 " ' I thought so. The same eyes and smile. 
 Here, Tom, put all those things into this room 
 for the present. Now, ma'am, if you please, let 
 us see the old lady.' 
 
 " He was up the stairs introducing himself 
 before I had crossed the entry, for my heart 
 failed me as I thought that his probable errand 
 was to warn the old lady out. But I followed 
 as soon as I could. 
 
 " ' My name is Edward Abbott,' I heard him 
 say. ' Do you remember me ? You used to 
 call me Neddy when I was a boy and teased you. 
 You have not forgotten me, I hope.'
 
 Provoking to Love and Good Works. \ 8 1 
 
 " ' No, sir. Your features are too like your 
 father's for me to forget them. He was my 
 husband's chum in college, and afterward they 
 were dear friends. It was a long time ago, sir, 
 too long ago for you to remember, but you look 
 now as he did then.' 
 
 " ' My father died just a month before I was 
 born, which makes m recollections of him 
 rather indistinct, you see.' 
 
 " I wish, John, that I could give you an idea 
 of the fun that twinkled all over his face as he 
 spoke." 
 
 " No need, Ellen, no need ; I knew him when 
 he was a lad." 
 
 " He told madam that he came in on an 
 errand. 
 
 " ' I understand,' she replied. ' You own this 
 house, and I've wanted to see you about it ever 
 since I heard of your return. I have no money 
 to pay the rent longer, and I ought to move out 
 directly. Still I have thought that perhaps I 
 might stay here and pay for it by being useful 
 to the family below if one should move in. I 
 could mend for them, or wash dishes, or do most 
 any of the lighter chores about the house. 
 Don't you think I could, sir ? '
 
 1 82 Provoking to Love and Good Works. 
 
 " Mr. Abbott had walked to the window, and 
 pretended to be watching the unloading of the 
 sled. It was empty now, and he turned sud- 
 denly round. 
 
 " ' No, ma'am,' said he, ' I don't think you 
 could. You are too old and too good for a 
 household drudge. Bother the rent,' he con- 
 tinued, speaking up very loud, though I'm sure 
 his eyes were full of tears, ' I don't want any 
 rent. Do you take me for a heathen ? You 
 can stay here till the day after forever if you 
 want to. Mrs. Strong, those things below are 
 for her. Mr. Henry Clark and the ladies at his 
 house sent them. At least they provided the 
 most of them. You will know how to dispose 
 them conveniently for her use." 
 
 " ' All this time he had been backing toward 
 the door, through which he vanished with a 
 hasty ' good day to you both,' before we could 
 collect our wits to utter a word of thanks. 
 There we stood, staring at each other, and laugh- 
 ing and crying like little children." 
 
 " I believe you," said John, drawing his coat 
 sleeve across his eyes. 
 
 " Well, the wood came, and Mason came to 
 cut it ; so I got him to help me arrange the
 
 Provoking to Love and Good Works. 183 
 
 things. I wish I had brought home a list of 
 them to show you. Flour, and salt pork, and 
 two fine hams, butter, and cheese, and potatoes 
 O, I can't think of half but the old lady is 
 provided for till spring, and I am so glad, so 
 thankful! That Mr. Abbott is a true noble- 
 man, John. He has such a bright, cheerful 
 look, it does one good to look at him, and well, 
 bless me ! " 
 
 " What is it, Ellen ? What do you see ? " 
 
 " Why, there he is himself, and he is coming 
 straight up the lane to our door." 
 
 Benny ran to open the door before the gen- 
 tleman had time to rap. 
 
 " Ah, it is little Ben-evolence, is it ? " said Ned. 
 
 " No, sir. It's Benny Strong." 
 
 " Well, how goes the New Year ? Are you 
 tired of it yet ? " 
 
 " No, indeed. I think," said Benny, hesitating 
 for a word to express his full appreciation of 
 the day, " I think it's tip-top." 
 
 " Do you ? I agree with you. Is your father 
 in?" 
 
 " Yes, sir. And mamma, too. And she says, 
 sir, that the old lady is going it prime. Aint 
 you glad you helped ? "
 
 1 84 Provoking to Love and Good Works. 
 
 " Aint I ! You see, my boy, that it takes you 
 and me to finish up things properly ; so when- 
 ever you need help in such a case you must call 
 on me." 
 
 " So I will. I should be glad to," said Benny 
 with much earnestness. " And I guess it wont 
 be our fault, sir, if folks are not pretty comfort- 
 able after this." 
 
 Here John, wondering at the child's tardiness, 
 came out to invite his visitor in. 
 
 " I can stop but a moment, Mr. Strong. I 
 came to ask a favor of you." 
 
 " I shall be glad to oblige you, sir, if I can." 
 
 John looked with admiration into the kindly 
 face, which, though browned and roughened by 
 exposure to different climates, was still manly 
 and handsome. 
 
 "You have grown old, Mr. Strong, since I 
 saw you last. Ten years have wrought many 
 changes, but you are not much older than my- 
 self, I think." 
 
 "Two years older. I am thirty-three. We 
 are both older than we were when I helped build 
 the west wing of Squire Clark's house, with you 
 and Miss Alice to oversee the work." 
 
 Ned colored and laughed. " I don't realize it.
 
 Provoking to Love and Good Works. 185 
 
 I don't feel a day older. But you, Mr. Strong, 
 are really getting old too fast." 
 
 " I have had to work hard, sir, and what with 
 sickness in my family and the hard times, I 
 have had anxiety enough to wrinkle my fore- 
 head a little. But we are all well now, and busi- 
 ness is looking up ; so we think the future looks 
 quite promising. Perhaps I shall grow young 
 again." 
 
 " I hope so. Now for my errand. I have 
 had several chances to-day to rent the house 
 where Madam Bretton lives, but I don't like to 
 put strangers in with her. How would the 
 house suit you ? I should like you for a tenant 
 very much. I want some one there who will 
 look after the old lady a little. She tells me 
 that her husband and my father were intimate 
 friends. It was a long time ago, to be sure 
 you know my father was an old man when he 
 married but I feel as if she had a claim on my 
 affection and care. Now, if you could go in 
 there I should feel quite easy. I could shift the 
 responsibility to your shoulders. If she hap- 
 pened to get out of pepper or saleratus you 
 could let me know, and save me the trouble of 
 investigating her affairs. Don't say no, Mrs.
 
 1 86 Provoking to Love and Good Works. 
 
 Strong. I know it is cold weather, but I could 
 send persons to assist you about moving." 
 
 " Ellen is not thinking of the trouble of mov- 
 ing," replied John. "We have not so much to 
 move as to make it a burden. Besides, she has 
 always desired to live in that house. But we 
 have found it difficult to pay the rent of this, 
 and I am afraid we should not be able to pay 
 more. Your house rents for twice the sum we 
 
 pay." 
 
 " What of that ? I meant you to understand 
 that Mrs. Strong would pay the rent by looking 
 after the old lady. John Strong, you are not 
 above giving or receiving a kindness. You will 
 really oblige me by agreeing to my terms and 
 moving into the house at once. When will you 
 be ready to move, Mrs. Strong ? " 
 
 " To-morrow." 
 
 " That is right. Shall I send some help ? " 
 
 " No, sir. But you must let us thank you, 
 for indeed we appreciate " 
 
 " Yes, yes, I know. Excuse me for hurrying 
 away." 
 
 " Indeed, sir," persisted Ellen, following him 
 to the door, " I must say one word. We shall 
 be quite rich and "
 
 Provoking to Love and Good Works. 187 
 
 " Good evening. A happy New Year to you 
 both. Come, little Benny. The moon is com- 
 ing up clear and bright. Let us take your sled 
 here, and coast a little on the hill-side yonder. 
 See how it sparkles ! It makes me a boy again. 
 I would ask you all to join in our sport, but 
 Benny and I don't want any old folks with us, 
 do we, Benny ? " 
 
 " He was not in a hurry after all," said Ellen 
 as she stood at the window watching them. 
 " Do come, John, and see them slide. The sled 
 shoots down the hill like an arrow. Don't you 
 hear them laugh and shout ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " He is only two years younger than you are, 
 John. I wonder how you would look in a frolic 
 like that." 
 
 " I would soon show you, Ellen," he replied, 
 his eyes lighting up as he watched the sport, 
 " but if we are to move to-morrow there are 
 many things that I must arrange to-night." 
 
 " No, no, John. Sit down here and take 
 Nellie on your knee and let us talk of God's 
 goodness." 
 
 For a long hour they sat in the moonlight 
 recalling with grateful hearts their past experi-
 
 1 88 Provoking to Love and Good Works. 
 
 ences of God's care and loving-kindness toward 
 them. They made many resolutions for the 
 future, humbly trusting in divine grace for 
 strength to keep them. When all was at last 
 still, and Benny and Nellie were snugly tucked 
 into the low trundle bed for the night, the little 
 girl raised herself on her elbow and inquired, 
 
 "What will Madam Bretton say when she 
 knows we are coming, Benny?" 
 
 "Say? I don't know. O, I guess," said the 
 boy after a pause, " she'll do as she did to-day- 
 kneel down and thank God."
 
 "A Patch on the Knee and Gloves on." 189 
 
 A PATCH ON THE KNEE AND 
 GLOVES ON." 
 
 BOSTON, Dec.2o, 1856. 
 
 AUNT MARY, You need not 
 urge me so earnestly to remember my 
 promise to write often to you, for I have only 
 been waiting to get fairly established in my 
 Aunt Augusta's household, so as to test my 
 first impressions before giving them to you. 
 You ask how I like life in this city. Life in 
 the city, as it might be with such facilities for 
 intellectual culture and gratification as appear 
 on every hand, should be delightful ; but fash- 
 ionable city life at least the poverty-stricken 
 phase of it that I behold is, of all earthly exist- 
 ence the most unbearable. 
 
 It seems that we are genteel people, live on 
 a fashionable street, and in genteel style. I 
 seem to see you open your eyes and ask how it 
 is possible to do this with the limited income of 
 my aunt. That it is not impossible you will ac- 
 knowledge before you have finished this letter.
 
 190 "A Patch on the Knee and Gloves on." 
 
 It was on a dismal wet evening that I arrived 
 here, not very cold for the last of November, 
 but one of those drizzling, shivering days that 
 make us appreciate the bright glow of a good 
 fire. I had traveled two days and nights with- 
 out stopping to rest, only catching an occasional 
 cat-nap when overcome with fatigue ; and when 
 I bade farewell to the cars and entered the 
 carriage which was to convey me to my aunt's 
 house, I was childish enough to weep for joy in 
 anticipation of the warm welcome that awaited 
 me. I forgot the coldly civil letter that gave 
 me permission to obey my father's dying wish, 
 that, if unmarried, I should spend my eighteenth 
 year under her care, and also the funny hope 
 that she had expressed, that I would, for her 
 daughters' sake, conceal the fact of my being 
 an heiress. I only remembered that she was a 
 dear sister to my father, as you, aunty, were to 
 my mother, and my heart throbbed with delight 
 as I impatiently waited to be folded to her 
 heart. 
 
 But of all evenings in the year I had arrived 
 on one sacred to the interests of a fashionable 
 party, and both my aunt and cousins being 
 dressed to go out, you see at once that any
 
 "A Patch on the Knee and Gloves on." 191 
 
 tty/ig like a cordial, heart-cheering hug was out 
 of the question. One glance assured me that it 
 would be an impossible achievement. 
 
 " I am glad to see you, Margaret," said my 
 aunt, reaching the tips of her gloved fingers to 
 me, over an amplitude of skirt that reminded 
 me of those enormous pumpkins that decorate 
 our store-room at home, whose stems they all 
 seemed striving to represent by a display of the 
 smallest waists I ever saw. 
 
 " I am glad to see you, Margaret," repeated 
 both cousins in exactly the same tone and care- 
 less, languid manner of my aunt. 
 
 " We did not expect you till to morrow," pur- 
 sued my aunt; "you must have traveled very 
 rapidly. I am sorry that we have an engage- 
 ment this evening, but as you are to stay with 
 us it will make little difference. You will ex- 
 cuse us." 
 
 " You will excuse us," repeated the two echoes ; 
 to which I replied, in my most accommodating 
 manner, " I shall be very happy to do so." 
 
 " Hannah will make you comfortable. There 
 is the bell-cord when you wish to summon her. 
 Come, my dears, the carriage is waiting." 
 
 With another formal apology and three fare-
 
 192 "A Patch on the Knee and Gloves on" 
 
 well bows, all made after one pattern, they 
 swept out of the room, and by some inexplica- 
 ble process were all stowed into one common- 
 sized carriage. 
 
 Then I took a long breath and surveyed the 
 apartment. It was handsomely furnished the 
 mantels, tables, niches, and corner-cabinets 
 each displaying their own appropriate trifles 
 and shining in the gas-light. There were sev- 
 eral handsome paintings on the walls, and be- 
 neath one of them stood a large piano covered 
 with crimson cloth. But to me there was an 
 indescribable, straitened, uncomfortable expres- 
 sion that seemed to characterize every article 
 of furniture, and endow it with a living, sorrow- 
 ful identity. I could no't help laughing at the 
 absurd fancy then, but have not yet been able 
 to divest myself of the strange impression, or to 
 turn a blind eye to the dumb remonstrances of 
 the immovable chairs, whose helpless rockers 
 seemed doomed to point forever toward the 
 north-east. 
 
 Did you know, aunt, that when a fashionable 
 upholsterer places a piece of furniture in a par- 
 ticular place, it is sacrilegious to remove it to 
 another ? It doesn't matter how much your
 
 " A Patch on the Knee and Glovts on? 193 
 
 own taste may rebel against the arrangement, 
 or how persistently your innate desire for com- 
 fort may suggest an alteration, your drawing- 
 room must be an accurate copy of the fashion- 
 able Mrs. Vacuum's or you lose caste in genteel 
 society. Fitness and ease are both tabooed. 
 
 I had just completed my survey, and was 
 wondering whether I too was becoming a fix- 
 ture of the room, when the door opened and my 
 Cousin Frederick, a lad of twelve years, entered 
 with his school-books in his hand. He started 
 slightly on seeing me, but came forward direct- 
 ly, saying, in a pleasant, cordial voice, " My 
 Cousin Margaret, I suppose ? " 
 
 I saw at once that he had not yet outgrown 
 the natural openness of boyhood, and I won- 
 dered if city boys were obliged to go through 
 the same refining, or, rather, ironing, process 
 that their sisters were subject to. 
 
 " My mother and sisters have just gone out," 
 said Frederick, who seemed to think that I had 
 just entered the house. " They will regret your 
 late arrival, and there being no one at home to 
 receive you but myself. Have you had tea?" 
 
 " Not since the day before yesterday." 
 
 His gleeful, boyish laugh made me feel quite
 
 194 "^ Patch on the Knee and Gloves on." 
 
 at home. " I will call Hannah," he said. " She 
 will show you to your room and make tea for 
 you while you are changing your dress." 
 
 I had been standing all this time, wrapped in 
 my cloak and furs. Hannah came directly and 
 soon ushered me into a large chamber, which 
 she said was to be mine during my visit. She 
 has no idea that I crime as a boarder, or that I 
 am to stay here more than a week. My room 
 is one of the chambers of state, and is, or was, 
 elegantly furnished, but its whole aspect gave 
 me the same feeling that had been inspired by 
 the parlor below. The same confined, implor- 
 ing look met me on all sides. I did not dare 
 to touch the curtains, or to alter the position of 
 the dressing-glass, which stood inconveniently 
 near the bed ; and as for the half-hour's rest 
 that I had contemplated, I gave it up at once, 
 for the bed seemed to speak from its lowest 
 mattress and refuse to be tumbled. There was 
 no fire in the grate, and rather than expose 
 myself to the chilly temperature of the room, I 
 went down to tea in my traveling dress. 
 
 Now please to remember, dear aunt, that I 
 had not enjoyed a regular meal since I left, and 
 that I had been saving my appetite all day, so
 
 " A Patch on the Knee and Gloves OK' 195 
 
 as to fully do justice to my first supper with my 
 expectant relatives. In this connection, also, 
 oblige me by recalling to memory the gastro- 
 nomic exploits of which you have seen me 
 capable after a fasting washing-day, and you will 
 understand my feelings as I surveyed the sup- 
 per spread for me in the dining-room. I was a 
 little dazzled at first by the delicate china service 
 and silver tea-urn, cake-basket, and forks of the 
 same metal as broad as my gardening-fork, and 
 I might have spent some time in admiring them 
 had it not been for the remonstrances of my 
 tantalized stomach. 
 
 There were three biscuits on the table about 
 the size of a Mexican dollar, and two slices of 
 sponge cake, so transparently light that I have 
 no doubt that in lieu of spectacles I might have 
 read common-sized print through them. There 
 was some jelly in a cut-glass dish, which had 
 admirably preserved the natural acidity of the 
 crab-apples of which it was made, and conse- 
 quently defied all attempts made to reduce its 
 bulk. It might have been an heir-loom in the 
 family, being secure in itself from all destructive 
 influences. 
 
 When I rose from the table I saw that Haa-
 
 196 "A Patch on the Knee and Gloves on." 
 
 nah was astonished to find every crumb eaten, 
 and I have since learned that it is not well-bred 
 to leave nothing on the table but the dishes. 
 
 I have filled my sheet already without begin- 
 ning to give you all of my first evening's ex- 
 perience, but I will write again by to-morrow's 
 mail, hoping to get at the same time an encour- 
 aging line from you. Don't let Bessy forget my 
 birds, and see that Blackey is properly rubbed 
 down and exercised. How I long for home and 
 its common-sense delights ! 
 
 Your affectionate MAGGIE. 
 
 BOSTON, December 21. 
 
 DEAR AUNT, Between you and me I would 
 have paid handsomely, at the close of my first 
 meal here, for the privilege of extemporizing 
 a few buckwheat griddle-cakes in your back 
 kitchen. I did not return to the parlor ; I was 
 too sleepy and tired, so I went, shivering all 
 over, back to my own room. I found that, 
 during my short absence, the splendid counter- 
 pane and embroidered pillow-cases had, by some 
 pleasant magic, been changed for coarser and 
 less defiant ones, and that several other mustn't- 
 touchables had been removed. The change
 
 " A Patch on the Knee and Gloves on." 1 97 
 
 insensibly cheered me, and I was contriving 
 various ways to give a more home-like aspect 
 to the room, not forgetting an eligible place for 
 your blue pin-cushion, when Hannah came to 
 ask if I wanted any thing. 
 
 "Yes, Hannah, I should like a good fire. This 
 room is damp and chilly." 
 
 " Mistress don't allow fires in the sleeping- 
 rooms. She says it is unhealthy." 
 
 " But I have been traveling all day and I am 
 cold." 
 
 " You had better go down to the parlor, then." 
 
 Hannah's manner was obliging, but she 
 was evidently afraid to break any rule of the 
 house. 
 
 "What is that stove here for?" I asked. 
 
 " Can't say. Never saw a fire in it. Will you 
 please to go down to the parlor ? " 
 
 " No, but I will come down to the kitchen if 
 you will let me." 
 
 " I am afraid, Miss, that the kitchen fire is 
 out. Mistress is very particular, and likes to 
 have the kitchen shut up early." 
 
 " Never mind. If the fire is out we'll build 
 another. I know how to make a fire. Come, 
 Hannah, I belong in the country, where folks
 
 198 "A Patch on the Knee and Gloves on." 
 
 believe in being cosy and comfortable. My 
 going shivering to bed is out of the question. 
 I am going to warm my feet and have a dish 
 of hot ginger tea with toasted bread in it. It is 
 nice, Hannah, and you shall have some if you 
 will help me to make it." 
 
 Hannah's mouth fairly watered, in spite of 
 her eyes dilating with astonishment and fear ; 
 but she only said, " I'm afraid mistress wont 
 like it." 
 
 " Like it ! " I repeated. " Suppose she don't. 
 Now, Hannah, you are not so foolish as to 
 believe that I am going to bed in my aunt's 
 house, after a long journey, both cold and hun- 
 gry. You see it isn't reasonable." 
 
 " But my mistress is so particular," still urged 
 poor Hannah. " I might lose my place." 
 
 " Well, then," said I, a little moved by her 
 deprecatory looks and words, "you keep quiet. 
 Risk nothing, endanger nothing. That is your 
 proverb. Mine is, ' Nothing venture, nothing 
 have.' I have no place to lose ; but if I had 
 forty I'd have my ginger tea first." 
 
 In a few minutes I had a rousing fire, and the 
 little tea-kettle was singing as merry a tune as 
 could be desired, I humming in concert with it
 
 "A Patch on the Knee and Gloves on" 199 
 
 It really refreshed me to hustle about among the 
 dishes of the pantry in my old free manner. 
 
 " Now for the ginger." I was talking to myself 
 now. " Sugar. Here it is. Cream. O, I forgot 
 that city cows do not give cream ! Milk, then." 
 
 Hannah caught my arm, looking positively 
 frightened. Don't, Miss ; please don't. 
 
 It was too late. I had poured it all into my 
 bowl, and a scanty portion it was. 
 
 "It was saved for the breakfast coffee," whim- 
 pered Hannah disconsolately; "O me! O me! 
 what shall I do ? " 
 
 " Do ? Why, buy more. The milkman comes 
 in the morning, does he not ? " 
 
 " O yes ! But we only engage a particular 
 quantity. Mistress will " 
 
 " Just taste, Hannah ; it is good enough for a 
 queen. Where is your bread ? " 
 
 " There is only enough for breakfast." 
 
 " Pooh ! " said I, beginning to quote Scripture 
 rather irreverently. " 'Take no thought for the 
 morrow.' You're a second Martha, ' careful and 
 troubled about many things.' I wonder if Cousin 
 Fred likes ginger tea. Suppose you ask him, 
 Hannah, while I toast this bread. Tell him we 
 have a plenty."
 
 2OO "A Patch on the Knee and Gloves on." 
 
 " I shouldn't dare to. Why, mistress will " 
 
 " Here he comes," I interrupted her ; " I hear 
 his step on the stairs." 
 
 Hannah again caught my arm, and this time 
 clung to me desperately. " Don't open the door, 
 please. He'll be sure to tell mistress." 
 
 " Well, let him. I hope I ain't stealing. There 
 is nobody at home to see to my comfort, and so 
 I see to myself. Where is the sin, I should like 
 to know ? " 
 
 Fred went on, and Hannah became more com- 
 posed. I think she began to calculate how much 
 of her own pocket money it would take to re- 
 plenish the pantry. " If you were visiting me, 
 miss," she said at last, finishing, as she spoke, a 
 tumbler of the refreshing beverage which I had 
 generously handed to her, "I'm sure you'd be 
 welcome to the best, but my mistress calculates 
 so closely that she leaves no room for extras." 
 
 " Indeed ! Well, Hannah, I wasn't brought 
 up on moonshine, and I can't live on it." 
 
 " How long will you stay here ? " 
 
 " A year." 
 
 " Bless me ! Then I'm afraid you'll have to 
 get used to our ways." 
 
 " Perhaps. But as there is no grace for bor-
 
 "A Patch on the Knee and Gloves on." 201 
 
 rowed troubles, and I am once more tolerably 
 comfortable, I will go to bed." 
 
 As I closed the door I looked round and saw 
 Hannah swallow the dregs of my ginger tea 
 and then spread her hands completely over the 
 warm stove. " Ah ! " said I, with a pleasant ap- 
 preciation of self, " I have comforted a fellow- 
 creature as well as myself. I have been doing 
 good unawares." 
 
 Hoping that you too will believe in my be- 
 nevolence, and promising to write again as soon 
 as I hear from you, I remain your own 
 
 MAGGIE. 
 
 BOSTON, December 27, 1856. 
 
 My DEAR GOOD AUNT: You don't happen 
 to know, do you, whether or not my father was 
 delirious when he desired that I should spend 
 my eighteenth year with Aunt Augusta ? be- 
 cause, if he was, I am coming home. You ask 
 what aunt said about the ginger tea. Not a 
 word to me, but poor Hannah's eyes were swol- 
 len with crying all the next day. I felt so sorry 
 for her that I inwardly vowed that nothing 
 short of absolute starvation should induce me 
 to enter the kitchen asjain.
 
 2O2 "A Patch on the Knee and Gloves on." 
 
 I have been obliged to make all my dresses 
 smaller, and, as Aunt Augusta encouragingly 
 says, begin to look gracefully languid and deli- 
 cate. Four weeks more of dieting or, rather, 
 not dieting and there will be nothing of me left 
 but my dresses. 
 
 It will be rather difficult, aunty, to gratify 
 you with a correct picture of our daily life, be- 
 cause, with all your thrift, you don't begin to 
 know the value of a biscuit. Bread is our 
 staple ; and though the Bible expressly declares 
 that man cannot live by bread alone, my aunt 
 persists in refusing to apply this principle to 
 our sex, and insists that it shows a perverted 
 taste to hanker, as I do, after the flesh-pots of 
 Egypt. There is always cake stored in some 
 unknown corner of the house in readiness for 
 unexpected company ; but our common fare, in 
 spite of its garnishing of cut-glass and silver, is 
 very much like Dennis M'Pherson's " shouldher 
 o' nothin' widout vegetables." 
 
 I get along better than the rest, for Hannah, 
 in consideration of being allowed a share of the 
 same, is always ready to smuggle a supply of 
 contraband crackers and gingerbread into my 
 chamber. These, of necessity, are rather dry,
 
 "A Patch on the Knee and Gloves on" 203 
 
 and I am obliged to eat them just before retir-. 
 ing to rest in order to be secure from interrup- 
 tion, and the unseasonable meal does not pro- 
 mote health or sleep. 
 
 You must know that I obtained permission to 
 have a fire in my room on condition that I paid 
 for the coal. The fact of my paying an exor- 
 bitant price for board is wholly ignored. I am 
 always spoken of as a visitor, it being ungenteel 
 to lake boarders. 
 
 I forgot to tell you that my aunt and cousins, 
 with coarse check aprons to cover their elegant 
 silk morning wrappers, and with half-gloves to 
 protect their hands, have been in the habit 
 of spending the forenoon in a little back sitting- 
 room occupied in sewing for the slop-shops. 
 Hannah takes the work in her own name, and is 
 usually supposed to be a miracle of industry. 
 A fire is always ready to be lighted in the 
 parlor, and whenever any of their fashionable 
 associates come in for a morning call, it is the 
 work of a moment to throw off apron and gloves 
 and to assume al! the grace of elegant leisure. 
 Hannah is instructed to light the parlor fire on 
 her way to the door. 
 
 Well, Aunt Mary, I had no sooner found 
 
 14
 
 204 "A Patch on the Knee and Gloves on." 
 
 myself comfortable in my own room, by my own 
 fire, than the back sitting-room was abandoned, 
 and my dear relatives came, slop-work and all, 
 to help me enjoy myself. 
 
 " You see," said Aunt Augusta, " there is 
 plenty of room here, and it is so much better 
 than littering the room below." 
 
 Even when they are engaged with company 
 in the evening, Master Fred is sent here to get 
 his lessons. 
 
 " Mother," said Harriet this morning, " have 
 you seen Susy Brigham's new brocade ? I am 
 dying for one like it." 
 
 " Well, dear, don't fret," replied my aunt, with 
 a significant glance at my cozy fire, " perhaps 
 t we shall save enough money this winter to get 
 one." 
 
 I will not forget to tell you a little circum- 
 stance that happened yesterday morning, and 
 which vexed me considerably. Harriet came 
 into the room shivering with the cold, and 
 crouched down on the carpet before the grate 
 while I dressed. Hannah makes my fire as 
 soon as she gets up, and the room was quite 
 warm. Harriet sat still awhile watching me, 
 and I had almost forgotten her presence when
 
 "A Patch on the Knee and Gloves on" 205 
 
 she suddenly exclaimed, " Goodness, cousin, 
 do you wear flannels ? " 
 
 " I hope so. Don't you ? " 
 
 " No. I haven't any thing of the sort. Are 
 they comfortable ? " 
 
 "Very. I thought that in this variable cli- 
 mate flannel was a necessity." 
 
 " If it was we could not afford it." 
 
 " The Italian corsets that you and Jane are 
 daily squeezed into cost more." 
 
 " But those are necessary. Madame Dumont 
 says we should have no form without them." 
 
 " Nonsense. I never wore a thing of the sort 
 in my life, and my figure is better than yours." 
 
 " Better ? You are much larger." 
 
 " Because I have had room to breathe." 
 
 " Well, I couldn't live without them ; they 
 brace me, and I feel better snugly dressed." 
 
 " On the principle of the Esquimaux, who 
 wear a light belt to relieve, in some degree, the 
 agonies of starvation." 
 
 " Of whom are you speaking, cousin ? " 
 
 " Of the Esquimaux." 
 
 " I don't know them. Country people, are 
 they not ? " 
 
 " Yes. But speaking of flannel, Harriet, I
 
 206 "A Patch on the Knee and Gloves on." 
 
 will give you money enough to buy it, it' you 
 will make it up and wear it." 
 
 She took the bill that I offered her, and was 
 thanking me in her languid way when my aunt 
 came in. 
 
 " Not dressed, Margaret ? Breakfast is nearly 
 ready." 
 
 " I will be down directly." 
 
 " See, mother," said Harriet, " Cousin Mar- 
 garet has given me this to purchase flannel." 
 
 " Flannel ! for what purpose, child ? " 
 
 "To wear, mother. She wears it, and she 
 does not suffer from the cold as I do." 
 
 " She is less fragile and delicate, my dear. 
 But since she has generously given you the 
 money it shall be expended for you. Let me 
 see ; it is five dollars. Hannah got twenty for 
 those awkward-looking bracelets that your 
 grandmother gave you, and when this week's 
 work is carried home we can get a set of 
 cameos like Emma Newell's. Your new dress 
 .of white satin only needs cameos to perfect 
 it. I am sure we are greatly obliged to you, 
 Margaret." 
 
 They went down stairs exulting, and left 
 me mentally vowing that on no pretense should
 
 "A Patch on the Knee and Gloves on" 207 
 
 another penny of mine help to sustain such 
 hollow and really shabby gentility. In my next 
 I will explain to you why I see so little society, 
 and why I suffer myself to pass for a country 
 blunderhead. In the mean time I am your 
 affectionate MAGGIE. 
 
 BOSTON, January 1. 
 
 MY DEAR AUNT : A happy New Year to you ! 
 For once I have a morning to myself, for my 
 cousins are going through the usual farce of 
 receiving calls and compliments from any one 
 who chooses to claim the privilege. My aunt 
 graciously gave me permission to stay in my 
 room instead of occupying my usual corner, 
 where I generally pass unnoticed. It is my 
 aunt's wish that I attract as little attention as 
 possible till Harriet is settled in life. I do not 
 approach the piano unless Harriet needs my 
 assistance in practicing her lessons ; and as to 
 drawing, I have not yet unpacked my pencils 
 and brushes. I have leisure, but no quiet. You 
 will shake your head, I fear, and prophesy that 
 Harry's instructions will be wholly lost ; but I 
 am sure I could not sketch a post-and-rail fence 
 among all this slop-work.
 
 208 "A Patch on the Knee and Gloves on. " 
 
 Yesterday's mail brought a long letter from 
 Harry, who has at last got his diploma and is a 
 veritable M. D. He complains, in his whimsical 
 manner, of the general healthiness of the season, 
 which prevents an exhibition of his skill. 
 
 You ask if my Aunt Augusta has not yet at- 
 tempted to subdue the free speech and independ- 
 ent manner about which you have so often lec- 
 tured. Harry mischievously inquires if she has 
 tamed me. As if I were a wild beast. Well, 
 to satisfy you both, I will confess that I attend 
 morning lectures, afternoon lectures, and even- 
 ing lectures all on the same theme propriety. 
 And I have not yet acquired the prescribed 
 width of a- fashionable yawn, or the true com- 
 pass of a sneeze. 
 
 I was passing the front door this morning on 
 my way to my room, when my attention was 
 attracted by the screams of a little girl who 
 was crossing the street from the opposite walk. 
 She was bonnetless and shoeless, and her little 
 pinched feet looked blue and cold through the 
 holes of her stockings. Hannah, who was pol- 
 ishing the door-knob, stopped short in her work, 
 and after gazing a moment at the child ex- 
 claimed, "Why, it is Milly !"
 
 "A Patch on the Knee and Gloves on" 209 
 
 " Who is Milly ? " I asked. 
 
 " A little girl that Pete Shaw has taken from 
 the almshouse. He uses her dreadfully." 
 
 Just then the said Pete came in sight armed 
 with a huge whip, and striding wrathfully along 
 with the whip half raised in anticipation of the 
 torture it was ready to inflict. Whether the child 
 saw sympathy in my looks I am unable to say ; 
 but she sprang up the steps and clung to my 
 dress, begging me in the most imploring tones 
 to protect her and send her to her mammy at 
 the almshouse. Her childish cries only served 
 to encourage the man still farther, but my pres- 
 ence operated as a transient restraint upon him, 
 and he bowed surlily as he ordered the child to 
 come down into the street. " Come down here, 
 you young imp ! I'll pay you for this. You 
 wont kick up all this row for nothing, you'd 
 better believe." 
 
 He saw that the passers-by were pausing to 
 observe him, and he was evidently in a hurry to 
 retreat from his unenviable position. 
 
 " Don't hinder her, Miss." I had stooped 
 down and put my arms round the child. " You 
 do it at your peril, I tell ye. I'll have the law 
 on ye."
 
 2io "A Patch on the Knee and Gloves on" 
 
 "The law!" I repeated contemptuously. " It 
 is brutes like you who should fear the law." 
 
 " Margaret ! Margaret ! " called my aunt from 
 the breakfast room, " you will please to close 
 that door ! " 
 
 I looked down upon the crowd below, and in 
 many an eye I read sympathy for the poor un- 
 fortunate child, and an evident loathing of her 
 persecutor. 
 
 " Margaret ! Margaret ! " still called my aunt. 
 
 " Hand over that brat or you'll rue it," fairly 
 bellowed Pete Shaw. 
 
 " Is there no one here," I asked, " who will 
 take this poor child back to the almshouse and 
 give the overseers a true account of its bar- 
 barous treatment ? " 
 
 My aunt was at the door now, pulling my 
 dress with one hand and pushing the child back 
 with the other. "For shame, Margaret!" she 
 said angrily, 
 
 " I will give this bill it is three dollars to 
 any two men who will carry back the child." 
 
 " What nonsense, Margaret ! " said my aunt, 
 still pulling and pushing. 
 
 Two noble men, in mason's attire, sprang up 
 the steps and took the child.
 
 M Patch on the Knee and Gloves on." 2 1 1 
 
 " No, Miss," said the foremost one ; " keep your 
 money. Come, little one, you're as safe as if ye 
 were in the top of the old South Church." 
 
 1 no longer resisted the efforts of my aunt, 
 who drew a sigh of exceeding relief when the 
 crowd was shut out. I only got a glimpse of 
 Pete Shaw as he shook his brawny fist at me 
 and walked off. I resignedly obeyed my aunt's 
 gesture and followed her into the breakfast- 
 room, as sure of a lecture as if I had taken it. 
 
 " Sit down, Margaret," she began. " Let me 
 know what occasioned this disgraceful uproar 
 at my door." 
 
 I told her the story in a few words. My 
 cousins exchanged looks of astonishment, and 
 Fred laughed, as if it were a very comical affair 
 indeed. I suppose I looked very indignant, for 
 he began an apology. " I am sorry " 
 
 " Be silent, Frederick," interrupted his moth- 
 er. " Will you be so kind, Margaret, as to tell 
 me if you have been educated without any re- 
 gard to decorum ? " 
 
 " If you mean to ask, aunt, whether I have 
 been taught to be wholly unmindful of the sor- 
 rows' of others, I must confess that that is a 
 branch of study of which my Aunt Mary is
 
 212 "A Patch on the Knee and Gloves on" 
 
 ignorant, and, as a matter of course, her niece 
 is no wiser." 
 
 " Because," continued Aunt Augusta, " it is a 
 very unfortunate circumstance for a young lady 
 to grow up without any sense of propriety a 
 young lady of fortune, too, and not deficient in 
 natural talent." 
 
 " I thought, aunt," I answered demurely, " that 
 my wealth was not to be mentioned here, lest it 
 should mar the matrimonial prospects of my 
 cousins." 
 
 If this little hit did not " bring down the 
 house," it produced a perceptible sensation, and 
 had the immediate effect of softening my aunt's 
 magisterial deportment. 
 
 " I suppose," I said, when I had sufficiently 
 enjoyed the annoyance of my monitress, " that 
 you have something more to say to me. You 
 did not call me back merely to inquire about 
 my education." 
 
 " No, Margaret. I wished to tell you that you 
 are too impulsive, and that this morning's event 
 must not occur again. You must curb that mor- 
 bid sympathy that leads you beyond the bounds 
 of decorum. Do you suppose that a truly-refined 
 and delicate lady would have been caught in the
 
 "A Patch on the Knee and Gloves oni' 2 1 3 
 
 awkward place that you occupied this morning, 
 gazed at by the rabble and hugging a dirty pau- 
 per from the almshouse ? Be candid, Margaret, 
 and own that you would have been amazed if 
 your cousins or myself had been found in such 
 circumstances." 
 
 " That is true." 
 
 " You See, Margaret, that you are apt to over- 
 step the limits prescribed by genteel society. It 
 is in part owing to your early training, but it is 
 also constitutional. Your mother had the same 
 trait. I have seen her leave a refined circle of 
 friends to rescue a kitten that some boys were 
 amusing themselves with. Fie, Margaret ! In 
 tears ! " 
 
 " I can't help it. My darling mother ! " 
 
 " Well, well, I am sorry I mentioned her. 
 But while we are on this subject I want to tell 
 you that your behavior last night tried me 
 exceedingly." 
 
 "How, aunt?" I dried my tears and sum- 
 moned my recreant wits to defend myself. 
 
 " You were expressly told that a select com- 
 pany would be here, and that, to avoid remarks 
 upon our treatment of so near a relative, I 
 wished you to dress suitably and come into the
 
 214 "-^ Patch on the Knee and Gloves on" 
 
 parlor. Instead of this you stayed in your room 
 till a late hour, and then burst in upon us in a 
 plain morning wrapper, and after a very slight 
 recognition of the company excused yourself 
 from joining us because you wished to heel 
 and toe Fred's stockings." 
 
 " Well, aunt, I thought you would expect 
 some apology and so I came to bring it." 
 
 " But did you not think of the strange im- 
 pression that you would make on the minds of 
 the gentlemen present ? " 
 
 " No. What does it matter ? I did nothing 
 criminal." 
 
 "Then your employment, Margaret. Why, 
 Harriet here would be ashamed if any one sus- 
 pected her of knowing how to knit stockings. 
 But there you stood, with your hand on the door- 
 knob, saying, ' Please excuse me, aunt, I must 
 toe off Fred's stocking.' O Margaret ! " 
 
 I laughed, for it was rather droll, now I come 
 to recall it. 
 
 " What else, Aunt Augusta ? " 
 
 " Why, you are out walking on the common 
 two hours before fashionable people get up." 
 
 " They do not see me if they are in bed, so 
 I disgrace no one. I can't live without pure air.
 
 "A Patch on the Knee and Gloves on" 2 1 5 
 
 I was brought up to breathe it. I should look 
 as puny and sallow as Harriet and Jane if I did 
 not walk." 
 
 " Sallow ! puny ! " repeated both the young 
 ladies angrily, and I saw that in self-defense I 
 had blundered again. 
 
 " It is useless to talk," said my aunt resign- 
 edly. 
 
 " I should think, Margaret," she added pres- 
 ently, " that mere selfishness would make you 
 more particular. How, with your hoydenish 
 manners, will you ever get a husband ? " 
 
 " Ah, you do not know ! Why, I am already 
 engaged to be married, aunt." 
 
 I don't know who expressed the most aston- 
 ishment at this open avowal, but my aunt was 
 manifestly relieved, and declared that had she 
 been aware of it she would not have introduced 
 me to her set under false colors, but it was too 
 late now to amend. They urged me in vain to 
 tell them the name of my future spouse an 
 oyster could not have been more reticent It 
 was not because there is a prospect of Harry's 
 commencing his practice here, under the pa- 
 tronage of Dr. B. ; but I felt, aunty, that far 
 down beneath all these impulsive exhibitions
 
 216 "A Patch on the Knee and Gloves on" 
 
 of feeling that they so quarrel with, there 
 was a fountain of joy that a stranger must not 
 intermeddle with. I have written to Harry 
 that for some reasons satisfactory to myself I 
 occupy a humble position in my aunt's circle, 
 and begging him, if he comes here, to conceal 
 our previous acquaintance for a time. Do you 
 think he will ? He is so straightforward and 
 truthful that I fear he will not consent to the 
 appearance of deceit, and I often feel that I am 
 acting an unworthy part. What do you think ? 
 Your own MAGGIE. 
 
 BOSTON, January 2O. 
 
 DEAR AUNT MARY : Harry is here ; that is, 
 he is in the city. My aunt and cousins have 
 met him twice in society, and he has called here 
 once. Before he came, however, I received 
 sundry little notes full of protestations against 
 the deception, of which we should both be 
 guilty if we met as strangers ; to which I unva- 
 ryingly replied that if he felt so seriously about 
 it he had better quiet his conscience by staying 
 away altogether. 
 
 My aunt is in raptures. She can find no 
 words sufficiently expressive of her admiration
 
 "A Patch on the Knee and Gloves on" 217 
 
 whenever his name is mentioned, which is about 
 four times an hour. It appears that the circle 
 in which he might move as a protege of Dr. 
 B.'s is a peg higher than ours, and his coming 
 among us is therefore a condescension, and only 
 to be accounted for on the ground of some irre- 
 sistible attraction. 
 
 " Of course, Margaret," said my aunt, " you 
 are not a judge of elegant society, but I think 
 his appearance must have impressed even you. 
 What did you think of him ? " 
 
 " I thought I was I that is, I like him very 
 much." Recovering myself from the transient 
 confusion that had seized me on being thus ap- 
 pealed to, I added, " Very likely he is as poor as 
 a church mouse." 
 
 "He has position, Margaret," said my aunt 
 in a rather displeased tone, " and a few years 
 of practice will make him wealthy if he is not 
 so already. To be sure," she added reflectively, 
 and quite unconsciously too, " an early day for 
 the wedding would relieve us of some straits ; 
 but it would be better to commence in good 
 style even if " 
 
 " Mamma ! Mamma ! " interrupted Harriet, 
 " you are thinking aloud."
 
 218 "A Patch on the Knee and Gloves on" 
 
 " You are speaking of Dr. Hazeltine, aunt. 
 Is he to be married soon ? " I asked, with very 
 considerable promptness. 
 
 " How you color, Margaret ! If you had not 
 told me of your engagement I should be suspi- 
 cious of you." 
 
 My aunt went on with her day-dream as if 
 she had not been interrupted, and it was settled 
 that as nothing but some special attraction 
 could have drawn Harry into our set, and as no 
 other young lady could boast of the accomplish- 
 ments and grace of my cousin Harriet, it was 
 as clear as sunlight that a more intimate ac- 
 quaintance would result in a settlement for my 
 cousin, and a breathing spell for us all. 
 
 I felt positively wicked while this delightful 
 picture was being drawn ; it seemed so like act- 
 ing a lie to remain silent ; but what right have 
 they to a knowledge of my affairs ? Should I 
 get up and say, " If you pltase, aunt, I shall 
 claim Harry myself ? " I only occupy the posi- 
 tion in which they placed me, and, as Dr. Hazel- 
 tine will never bestow a serious thought upon 
 Harriet, I do not see that I am wronging them 
 by keeping my own counsel. Good-night, dear 
 aunt, I shall write again soon. MAGGIE.
 
 "A Patch on the Knee and Gloves on" 219 
 
 BOSTON, January 23. 
 
 DEAR AUNT : You have hardly got my last 
 letter, but I have something to tell you, so I 
 write again, I don't know whether I have ever 
 mentioned to you that, in order to have an ob- 
 ject for which to walk often, I followed your 
 advice, and sought out a number of poor fami- 
 lies. In the course of my calls among them I 
 have several times met Harry, who officiates 
 gratuitously among the same destitute classes, 
 and is often beforehand with me in relieving 
 their wants. I wear a little close hood and 
 a double vail, and have managed, as I sup- 
 posed, to pass him without being known till this 
 morning. 
 
 Once or twice, however, some casual remark 
 of his at my aunt's, where he still visits regu- 
 larly, had led me to doubt his ignorance of my 
 movements, and to suspect that our frequent 
 meetings could not be wholly accidental. 
 
 This morning, as I entered the door of a small 
 attic chamber, I was startled by the cry, " O, 
 Miss, the baby's had a fit ! " 
 
 I hurried to the straw couch on which the 
 baby lay asleep, and, throwing back my vail, 
 asked the mother if it was out of danger.
 
 22O "A Patch on the Knee and Gloves on" 
 
 "Yes, Miss But it was a powerful hard 
 one." 
 
 " Have you had a doctor ? " 
 
 " Yes, Miss, he saved its life. It was just dy- 
 ing like when he came in. He is only now gone 
 home to fetch some drops for it. Ah, here he 
 comes ! " 
 
 Before I could drop my vail, Harry stood by 
 my side. He did not look at all surprised to 
 see me there, but, slightly bowing to me, he 
 began to drop the mixture he had brought into 
 a teacup. 
 
 My first impulse was to run, and as soon as 
 he turned to the child I tried to pass him noise- 
 lessly, but he heard me and faced me directly. 
 You should have seen the amused expression of 
 his countenance as his eye rapidly glanced over 
 my strange attire. "You look like a gipsy, 
 Maggie," was his first flattering remark. 
 
 " Suppose you attend to your patient," I re- 
 sponded in a vexed tone. 
 
 " I will if you will promise to remain till I 
 leave. I want to speak to you." 
 
 " I sha'n't promise." 
 
 " Then I'll call at your aunt's and ask for a 
 private interview."
 
 "A Patch on the Knee and Gloves on" 22 1 
 
 " O, Harry," I said in alarm, " I'm sure you 
 wont do that ! " 
 
 " Wait for me, then." 
 
 Seeing that he was determined, I submitted, 
 resolved, however, to vex him heartily as soon 
 as an opportunity presented. When we were 
 fairly in the street he began : " Now, Maggie, 
 tell me why I am to visit at your aunt's as a 
 stranger to you." 
 
 " I wrote the reason to you." 
 
 " It was no reason at all. It does not satisfy 
 me. I feel as if I were acting a part beneath 
 me, and I shall not continue my visits unless 
 I can come in my true character as your 
 betrothed." 
 
 " As you please," I answered, for I was vexed 
 with his dictatorial manner. You remember 
 how he made me come in the house when I 
 wanted to watch the heavy shower from the hill. 
 He had the same manner now as if I were a 
 spoiled child. But it changed instantly when he 
 saw how it annoyed me ; and though I do like 
 to be governed sometimes, I was glad to see his 
 glance become more gentle. 
 
 " Listen to me, Maggie. It is natural that, 
 after being so long absent from you, I should
 
 222 "A Patch on the Knee and Gloves on" 
 
 wish for a little of your society I have a thou- 
 sand plans for the future in which you are con- 
 cerned, and some professional trials that I could 
 almost forget in your presence ; but because of 
 some absurd whim, unworthy of us both, I am 
 denied access to you, and only get stray glimpses 
 of you when I call at your home. Now, you 
 must give me some reasonable motive for con- 
 tinuing this course or I shall rebel." 
 
 A ludicrous perception of the only reason 
 that could be given here completely upset my 
 vexation and gravity together, and I laughed till 
 the tears covered my cheeks. He did not join 
 in my mirth, but his stern look of surprise did 
 not serve to abridge it in the least, and I think 
 he was considering, as a physician, whether I 
 was not a fit subject for a straight-jacket when 
 I recovered my composure. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, Harry. I am very sorry." 
 
 " You trifle with me, Maggie. Is my attach- 
 ment to you so very ridiculous that " 
 
 " No, no, I was thinking of something else. 
 Indeed, Harry, I could not help laughing," said 
 I penitently, swallowing as I spoke a huge 
 giggle, " and if you insist on knowing every 
 thing "
 
 "A Patch on the Knee and Gloves on" 223 
 
 " I insist on knowing whether this blind game 
 in which I am your partner is worth the trouble 
 of playing. I am tired of being a mere puppet." 
 
 " Well," I answered, " if I must be a tattler 
 and gossip in order to please you, I think you 
 need not look so cross about it. I always have 
 to yield my will to yours, and I suppose if I were 
 a few years younger you would shut me in a dark 
 room for disobedience." 
 
 " But this is not the reason for our meeting 
 on such strange terms." He was smiling again, 
 but I saw he would not be put off, so I began : 
 " Listen, then. In the first place, my aunt is 
 extremely desirous to marry Harriet well. I 
 favor the plan because it will improve our short 
 commons at home, and a 'goneness' at the 
 stomach is nearly as trying as a vacuum in the 
 brain. You understand ? There will be one 
 mouth less to fill." 
 
 Dear Aunt Mary, you should have seen his 
 wondering glance. 
 
 " In the second place," I continued, "my aunt, 
 though disgusted with my free ways, has taken 
 it into her head that my passable form and face 
 and eligible fortune, together with sundry ac- 
 complishments that you wot of, would take the
 
 224 "-^ Patch on the Knee and Gloves on," 
 
 wind out of the sails of my fair cousin, and has 
 kindly advised me to hide my light under a 
 bushel for a season." 
 
 "And that is why you never play or sing. 
 How ridiculous ! " 
 
 " Don't interrupt me, if you please. Further- 
 more, my aunt has just fixed on a certain young 
 M. D., who has just began to enjoy the delights 
 of our circle, as the future " 
 
 " Nonsense, Maggie. Look here, I wonder if 
 you are still trifling with me." 
 
 I suppose his long study of my face convinced 
 him that there was more truth than poetry in 
 what I had told him. " And so you are not pin- 
 ing for your country pleasures, but are growing 
 pale and thin for want of of " 
 
 " Victuals." 
 
 He laughed in spite of his vexation. 
 
 " But then, Harry, we have so many refined 
 associations. Ah, you should see the elegance 
 of our tea equipage ! I declare," I added, sud- 
 denly breaking out into my free, natural manner, 
 " if I ever get back to Hubbardsville, where I 
 can order a dinner, it will not be made of stewed 
 shadows. What are you laughing at ? I mean 
 to have a farmer's boiled dinner daguerreotyped
 
 "A Patch on the Knee and Gloves on" 225 
 
 and hung in my room if I stay here much 
 longer." 
 
 He was still laughing, and without the least 
 reason, so I snatched my arm away and we 
 were in the park running a few steps took a 
 long slide on a strip of ice which was nearly 
 worn out by the boys. The amazed looks of 
 the numerous promenaders completed Harry's 
 fun, and it was with a voice fairly choking with 
 merriment that he begged me to be quiet and 
 listen to him. 
 
 " In the first place, to adopt your own method- 
 ical manner, you must have a little more regard 
 for the usages of society, and not run wild, as you 
 did just now, at the mere sight of a bit of ice." 
 
 " A lecture. You are going to scold. I wont 
 stay with you to be scolded." But he held my 
 hand fast. 
 
 " I shall keep you," he said, " and lecture you 
 too. I'm sure you need it." 
 
 " Need it ! " I repeated scornfully. " As if I 
 didn't breakfast, dine, and sup on lectures. I 
 dream of them nights, and there isn't a breath 
 of wind that whistles down our exclusive chim- 
 ney but repeats over and over, ' Don't, Margaret, 
 O ! why will you ? "
 
 226 "A Patch on the Knee and Gloves on" 
 
 " Incorrigible ! But I have something else 
 to say. Suppose you leave those fractious 
 colts to be subdued by their driver and attend 
 to me." 
 
 "My ears are at your service," I replied 
 saucily, for the horses referred to did so re- 
 semble our pretty grays at home that I could 
 not bear to lose sight of them. How they 
 made me long for a free gallop over the open 
 country ! 
 
 " Now, Maggie," said Harry when the colts 
 were out of sight, " I am going to take you home 
 next week, to Aunt Mary's. I am not going to 
 see you lose your health and spirits for such 
 absurd reasons." 
 
 " You forget papa's wish." 
 
 " No I do not. He wished you to spend your 
 eighteenth year here unless you were married." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 " Don't you understand ? " 
 
 I wasn't such a puss but that I had frequently 
 planned the same way of shortening my exile ; 
 but, of course, I did not let him know it, and he 
 must have thought me unusually dull, it took so 
 long to make me comprehend him. 
 
 " Do you object to my plan, Maggie ? "
 
 "A Patch on the Knee and Gloves on" 227 
 
 "No. I shall be very glad. At least," I 
 added on second thought, " I shall be delighted 
 to see Aunt Mary." 
 
 " Shall I speak to your Aunt Augusta ? " 
 
 " No, indeed ! Do you want to see me anni- 
 hilated ? She will find out soon enough all that 
 she needs to know. Aint you ashamed of your- 
 self for making me divulge her plans ? " 
 
 " Not at all." 
 
 " Nor sorry for Harriet's disappointment ? " 
 
 " No. I think she will survive it." 
 
 Just then whom should we meet, walking rap- 
 idly toward us, but Aunt Augusta herself, who 
 was out shopping. You can imagine her sur- 
 prise and anger at meeting me so accompanied. 
 But she only bowed and passed on. I turned 
 in dismay to Harry. His face was radiant with 
 delight. Selfish fellow ! I believe he was 
 heartily glad of the inopportune meeting. 
 
 " Murder will out," was his first consolatory 
 speech. 
 
 " Well, you needn't look so happy. It is noth- 
 ing to you." 
 
 " Indeed ! You make me think of an Irish 
 woman that I met this morning. She was car- 
 rying a huge turkev, and just before I came up
 
 228 "A Patch on the Knee and Gloves on" 
 
 with her she met a negro, who made quite a dis- 
 play of ivory as his eyes fell on her burden. ' It 
 aint your turkey. You needn't grin,' said the 
 woman. You are saying the same thing to me, 
 Maggie. Only, you see, it isn't quite true, be- 
 cause I have an interest in the turkey." 
 
 " Tell me, then, what shall I do ? " 
 
 " What does your own heart tell you ? " 
 
 " It bidi me speak the truth, and to ask my 
 aunt's pardon for allowing her to be deceived." 
 
 " It whispers good advice and points out the 
 only honorable course. I will go with you to 
 the door. But, first, when will you leave Boston 
 with me ? " 
 
 " I don't know. I must consult Aunt Mary 
 before I decide," I replied with sudden prudence. 
 
 " I will spend this evening with you, and we 
 will both write to her." 
 
 I did not object ; my hardihood had quite de- 
 serted me. I was alive to only one idea, that 
 at last my aunt had a just reason for lecturing 
 me. Had I known how little my transgression 
 of moral principle would affect her, I should 
 have felt less anxiety. 
 
 I was not kept long in suspense, for I had 
 scarcely put my cloak and fur* away before
 
 "A Patch on the Knee and Gloves on" 229 
 
 Hannah brought a summons for me to come 
 down to the dining-room. Notwithstanding the 
 blame that I was conscious belonged to me, I 
 could hardly forbear laughing aloud at the lugu- 
 brious faces that were turned toward the door 
 as I entered. I sat down in silence. 
 
 " Margaret," said my aunt, " I think you 
 must have guessed my object in sending for 
 you." 
 
 " Yes, aunt." I was resolved to be truthful 
 now. 
 
 " How long had you been walking with Dr. 
 Hazeltine when we met." 
 
 " About an hour." 
 
 " Where did you meet him ? " 
 
 " At Mrs. Crosby's. She is the poor seam- 
 stress who made up my Thibet." 
 
 " How came the doctor there ? " 
 
 " Her baby had a fit, and he was called in." 
 
 My aunt's bent brows relaxed a little, but a 
 new thought occurred to her. 
 
 " Have you ever walked with him before ? " 
 
 " Yes, may times." The frown deepened 
 again. 
 
 " When and where ? " she asked sternly. 
 
 " His father's place joins mine in Hubbards-
 
 230 "A Patch on the Knee and Gloves on. " 
 
 ville. He took care of me when I first went 
 to school, and and we were always ac- 
 quainted." 
 
 " And he knows your intended husband," in- 
 terrupted Harriet eagerly ; " that accounts for 
 his intimacy with you." 
 
 " lie ought to know the person you mention, 
 Harriet, for it is to himself that I am engaged." 
 
 Harriet's face was scarlet, but she remained 
 silent. 
 
 " May I ask, Margaret," said her mother, 
 " why you have deceived us about this ac- 
 quaintance ? " 
 
 " I only obeyed your wishes. Do you sup- 
 pose that Dr. Hazeltine would have allowed 
 people to think that I was the rude, unculti- 
 vated girl that you represent me if our engage- 
 ment had been known?" 
 
 " And so while I thought him wholly en- 
 grossed by Harriet's charms, he was here in 
 reality to " 
 
 " Contemplate mine. I am sorry, aunt, that 
 I so foolishly submitted to your plan at fiist, 
 but I had then no idea that Dr. Hazeltine 
 would commence his practice here, and I did 
 not care for society."
 
 "A Patch on the Knee and Gloves on? 231 
 
 " But as the cousin of the rich Miss Arnold, 
 the betrothed of Dr. Hazletine, my Harriet 
 might so easily have gained admittance into 
 the exclusive society at Dr. B.'s." 
 
 " It is too late, aunt. Dr. Hazeltine is com- 
 ing this evening to arrange the time for my re- 
 turn to Hubbardsville." 
 
 " I thought, Margaret, that you were under 
 some obligation to remain here a year. It is 
 not two months, and I have calculated on 
 your board payment for Harriet's spring 
 hat." 
 
 Her intense selfishness restored my old mis- 
 chievous propensity, so I replied : " The obliga- 
 tion ceases with my marriage. Besides, don't 
 you see that if I remain the truth must come 
 out ? To be sure, my country manners will be 
 beautiful eccentricities as soon as it is known 
 that I am rich, but that will not blind people to 
 the cheat." 
 
 " That is all easily managed," said my aunt. 
 " People will soon understand that, wishing to 
 avoid the attentions that beset an heiress, you 
 chose to be considered poor. It will sound ro- 
 mantic, too, because your devotion to your affi- 
 anced husband will be a charming reason for
 
 232 "A Patch on the Knee and Gloves on." 
 
 your seclusion, and his visits here will only be 
 attributed to the right cause." 
 
 " How much better to be always truthful ! " I 
 said. 
 
 " There will still be an advantage, girls," con- 
 tinued Aunt Augusta cheerfully ; " they will 
 icside in the city, of course, that he may con- 
 tinue his practice, and under the auspices of 
 your cousin, my dears, you can improve your 
 present prospects materially." 
 
 I inwardly resolved that neither Harry nor 
 myself should serve as stepping-stones for the 
 young misses before me, and, as a foundation 
 for future action, I declined their offers to serve 
 as bridesmaids, and also my aunt's wish to 
 spend a month at Hubbardsville and oversee 
 the wedding preparations. I am sure that we 
 need no advice, and as to being married in 
 " genteel style," as my aunt phrases it, I would 
 sooner live single forever. 
 
 Harry came in the evening, and we had the 
 back parlor to ourselves. He was the same 
 merry fellow who used to help me pop corn in 
 your kitchen, Aunt Mary, and we agreed that 
 our first act after reaching home should be the 
 finishing of the game at snow-balling that we
 
 "A Patch on the Knee and Gloves on" 233 
 
 began before he went to college. I shall not 
 write again before I come home. Indeed, this 
 letter is long enough for three. Harry's letter 
 will tell you when to expect us, and till then I 
 remain your affectionate MAGGIE.
 
 SYMPATHY.
 
 Sympathy. 235 
 
 SYMPATHY. 
 
 REMARKABLE woman was Miss Dor- 
 othy Webb. Every body acknowledged 
 that. She had been a remarkable child, a 
 remarkable young damsel, and had ripened nat- 
 urally and without effort into the remarkable 
 woman. She was remarkable in more ways 
 than one, as most sensible women are ; but she 
 had her forte, her hobby, her particular re- 
 markability. Miss Dorothy's specialty was 
 sympathy. 
 
 In this cold world, where personal interests 
 and individual cares or aches seem to shut 
 most people into themselves, what power so 
 sweet, what gift so delightful, as the ability to 
 enter into the feelings of the sad-hearted, or 
 overtasked wayfarers along life's journey, and 
 so bear another's burden as to fulfill the law of 
 Christ ! 
 
 " Are you going out, Dorothy ? " 
 
 It was a sweet voice, indeed, that asked this 
 16
 
 236 Sympathy. 
 
 question ; but Miss Dorothy turned from the 
 looking-glass, where she was arranging her col- 
 lar, with an expression on her face that would 
 have been un amiable, to say the least, if she 
 had not been a remarkable woman. 
 
 " Yes, I am going out. Why do you ask ? " 
 
 " Only because I thought I would go over 
 and try on little Nannie's dress if you were 
 going to be at home. You do not like to have 
 the house left to itself, you know. Perhaps I 
 could slip over there now and get back before 
 you leave ; in half an hour, any way." 
 
 " No, I am going directly. And if any one 
 calls while I am out I want to know it. I shall 
 be back early, so you need not look so dis- 
 appointed." 
 
 " I was thinking of Nannie's disappointment. 
 She is depending on having the dress done this 
 week." 
 
 " Beggars musn't be choosers, Sister Ruth." 
 
 " No, but the little thing has set her heart on 
 going to the Sabbath-school next Sunday, and 
 she has so few pleasures. But perhaps I can 
 finish it if I work on it this evening instead of 
 going to class-meeting." 
 
 " I wonder, Ruth," said Miss Dorothy, angrily,
 
 Sympathy. 237 
 
 " that you will tie yourself down to this kind of 
 work. You are never free from it. You don't 
 give yourself the least leisure to go out among 
 people and find out their troubles, and give 
 them a helping word in season. You tire your- 
 self till even our light housekeeping is a burden 
 to you. You haven't time even to dress your- 
 self properly. I was quite mortified when Mrs. 
 Fielding called on us." 
 
 " Susie Fielding ? " Aunt Ruthy brightened 
 at the name in spite of her sister's lecture. " She 
 is one of my dearest friends, Dorothy." 
 
 " So it seems. I can't understand it, though. 
 Do you hear what she said when you came into 
 the parlor in that loose wrapper, and your face 
 as red as fire ? " 
 
 " I was ironing, Dorothy. But what did she 
 say ? Nothing unkind, I know." 
 
 " She said, ' Your sister is altered since I saw 
 her. But her husband was alive then, and he 
 would not permit her to be a household drudge.' 
 Those were her very words, and she looked as 
 if she thought somebody was to blame about it. 
 Of course, I didn't tell her that you were hur- 
 rying the ironing to get time to go over and 
 dress old Paul Dunbar's blisters."
 
 238 Sympathy. 
 
 " Poor old man ! " said Aunt Ruthy softly, 
 her eyes filling with tears, " he is almost home. 
 He wont live through this week. His troubles 
 are almost over. I must go in there this even- 
 ing. It is like standing at the gate of heaven. 
 Such a good, happy old Christian ! " Aunt 
 Ruthy added dreamily. " May my last end be 
 like his ! " 
 
 She left the room as she spoke, and Miss 
 Dorothy turned again to the glass. 
 
 " Poor Ruthy ! " she sighed. " How different 
 we are ! We were never alike as children. 
 And now she is too old to change. Two years 
 older than I am. She looks ten years older," 
 said Miss Dorothy, with a gratified glance into 
 the mirror. " She is not to blame, poor thing," 
 she went on, "if she cannot enter into my feel- 
 ings or understand my work. I think she does 
 appreciate my talents, and she never hinders me 
 in any way." 
 
 Miss Dorothy was really a fine-looking wom- 
 an ; that is, she became one as her toilet pro- 
 gressed. Take out her false teeth, and remove 
 those dark, glossy braids of hair ; forbid the 
 use of the pearl powders that whitened her 
 skin, and you would see a somewhat surprising
 
 Sympathy. 239 
 
 change in her appearance. If her house had 
 taken fire at night, and she had been rescued 
 from the flames in her unadorned loveliness, it 
 is a question whether her most familiar friends 
 could have recognized her ; but now, in her 
 street costume, with a bran new chignon, Miss 
 Dorothy was decidedly well "got up," and well 
 looking too. 
 
 She knew it, and it made her mission more 
 agreeable. She was going out on purpose to 
 sympathize with her fellow-creatures, and it 
 was pleasant to make a good impression as to 
 looks. 
 
 "Ah, these people who confine themselves 
 so closely to what they call home duties little 
 realize the good they could do if they would go 
 out and condole with their fellow-creatures. It 
 wouldn't be such a cold, dreary world to live 
 in," said Miss Dorothy with a gush of senti- 
 ment, " if selfishness could be overcome or even 
 occasionally set aside. Every body has more 
 or less of trouble, and every body needs sym- 
 pathy. Now, if every body would do their 
 share, what a lightening of heavy burdens, what 
 a cheering of drooping spirits would result ! " 
 
 Miss Dorothy had never had any particular
 
 240 Sympathy. 
 
 experience of sorrow or disappointment. Ex- 
 cepting the strange blindness of the stronger 
 sex which had kept her in a state of forced 
 celibacy, just as if she had been a Roman 
 Catholic priest, she had managed to have her 
 own way in life. She and her widowed sister 
 lived alone in a pretty cottage which they had 
 inherited from their parents, and their income 
 was sufficient for their support in a plain, com- 
 fortable way ; not large enough for both sisters 
 to live fashionably idle, and so the kitchen work 
 fell naturally into the hands of Aunt Ruth, who, 
 having had and lost a family of her own, was 
 supposed to be posted in all the mysteries of 
 housekeeping. Miss Dorothy often said, with 
 truth, that she had never been sick in her life. 
 Even the indispensable ailments of childhood, 
 such as the measles and hooping-cough, had 
 touched her so lightly as to leave no remem- 
 brance of them. Her parents had dropped off 
 in a good old age, like shocks of corn fully ripe. 
 
 " That, of course, was to be expected of old 
 people," was Miss Dorothy's rejoinder to her 
 pastor's attempt to comfort her after the last 
 funeral was over. 
 
 But Miss Dorothy's lack of sorrowful experi-
 
 Sympathy. 241 
 
 ence only made her assumption of the office of 
 general comforter more meritorious. She was 
 not governed by feeling but by principle. 
 
 " If I were swayed by impulses, as Ruth is, I 
 could accomplish nothing. I don't wait for the 
 selfish leadings of the natural heart. Ruth," 
 she called from the hall as she opened, the front 
 door to go out, " I am going as far as Betsey 
 Craig's if I have time. If you get tea ready by 
 six o'clock it will do. Do you hear, Ruth ? " 
 
 " Yes, I hear. I will see to it." 
 
 Ruth had put by little Nannie's frock, and 
 was now knitting on some warm socks for a 
 family of poor little children up in Irish Row. 
 She was, as Miss Dorothy had complained, 
 always busy with something of the kind. 
 
 " You see," she would say apologetically, " I 
 haven't Sister Dorothy's talents, and I like to 
 knit and sew. It puts me out to call on people, 
 and and I couldn't on any account advise 
 them about their affairs, but I can slip into one 
 of those poor cabins and leave a little flannel 
 shirt or a pair of warm stockings, and run home 
 again before any body knows a thing about it. 
 Ah, what a number of half-clothed people live 
 in that one wretched alley ! "
 
 242 Sympathy. 
 
 Those poor neglected people were on her 
 mind all the afternoon after her sister left. How 
 could they be effectually helped ? 
 
 " God pity them ! " she said sadly. " The 
 winter is coming fast now. I must look over 
 my poplin dress. If the skirt can be turned 
 upside down it will do for another season, and 
 then I can manage to send a load of coal to 
 poor Widow Thompson. What a hard life she 
 has, poor thing ! with her six children and that 
 lame boy. Yes, the poplin must do somehow. 
 I don't see how she has any courage to live. 
 If I had Sister Dorothy's talent I could sym- 
 pathize with her. Still, talking does not seem 
 to be just what she needs. I couldn't speak a 
 word when I found them so poor. I just put a 
 little money in her hand, and ran home and 
 cried. I must do better than that the next time. 
 Ah, well," continued Aunt Ruth, resignedly, 
 though she was crying again as she remembered 
 the scene, " I must not be discouraged. Harry 
 used to say I did nicely. Nicely. How he 
 used to praise all my efforts to use my one little 
 talent ! Well, well, I will do what I can. The 
 Master knows all about it." 
 
 A peaceful look came over her face, and she
 
 Sympathy. 243 
 
 began to sing softly an old tune learned in 
 childhood : 
 
 " What I do Thou knowest well ; 
 
 What I have not skill to do 
 Glad I leave to stronger hands, 
 Satisfied if thy commands 
 I obey with spirit true." 
 
 In the mean time Miss Dorothy was slowly 
 pacing down the pleasant street enjoying the 
 warm October sunshine, comfortably intent upon 
 the fulfillment of her mission, and on the look- 
 out for chance objects of interest. She half 
 paused before a house that stood directly on the 
 street without any pretense of a door-yard, and 
 then passed on shaking her head decidedly. 
 
 "There is no use in calling there. Charity 
 Pearce's tongue runs from morning till night. 
 I can never finish a sentence without being 
 interrupted. She doesn't seem to have the 
 least idea of what I am saying, but strikes in 
 with something entirely foreign to the subject. 
 She will always be a cripple, and any body 
 would think she would feel interested about it ; 
 but the very last time I tried to express my 
 pity for her she broke right in with a question 
 about the prices of cotton cloth. And when I 
 told her about Captain Blank, who has just such
 
 244 Sympathy. 
 
 a foot as hers, and suffers unheard-of tortures 
 night and day, I declare I had to raise my voice 
 so high to bring it above hers that it made me 
 hoarse. I suppose that we together made con- 
 siderable noise, and I am sure her sister was 
 laughing when she went out of the room so 
 suddenly. No, I'll not go in there. Charity 
 Pearce may do her own comforting." 
 
 Still smarting with the sense of personal 
 injury caused by this remembrance of the crip- 
 ple's indifference and bad manners, Miss Dor- 
 othy crossed the street and came to a stand 
 opposite Dr. Ludlow's office. That young phy- 
 sician was just starting off on a round of pro- 
 fessional calls, but he waited politely when she 
 accosted him. He looked exceedingly bright 
 and happy, as a prosperous physician should. 
 There were two special causes for his bright 
 looks now. One of his patients, who had for 
 several days been balancing between life and 
 death, had passed the crisis of his disease, and 
 was out of danger. 
 
 The other cause for rejoicing was not a pub- 
 lic matter at all. The doctor would not have 
 thought of mentioning it to Miss Dorothy, but it 
 made his heart just as warm as a toast for all
 
 Sympathy. 245 
 
 that. He kept thinking it over, how only last 
 evening that prettiest, daintiest, sweetest of all 
 earth's charming daughters, fair Alice Howard, 
 had promised to be his wife when the new year 
 came in. In spite of his natural courtesy, his 
 new happiness made him somewhat absent- 
 minded, and Miss Dorothy had a little trouble 
 to bring him back to prosy, matter-of-fact life. 
 
 " Good morning, doctor," she said. " I need 
 not ask if you are well. You look as cheerful 
 and free from care as a June morning." 
 
 " I am always well, thank you." 
 
 " There are not many doctors who can say as 
 much. A physician's position is so responsible 
 that it necessarily wears upon him that is, if 
 he is at all sensitive." 
 
 " I am not sensitive," said the doctor, his 
 forehead flushing in direct contradiction to his 
 words. 
 
 " It is a good thing if a doctor can feel cheer- 
 ful. It is all for the best, I dare say, if you 
 haven't much feeling ; though, as Betsey Craig 
 says she is one of your patients, isn't she ? 
 she should like to have a doctor who really 
 cared whether she lived or died. She says she 
 needs sympathy more than medicine."
 
 246 Sympathy. 
 
 " Very likely. But doctors seldom have time 
 to pet their patients. Miss Craig's illness is 
 chronic, and naturally discourages her. But 
 she will get well. Time and patience will cure. 
 And, if you will allow me to say so to you who 
 visit her so often, cheerful society is what she 
 needs rather than the mistaken sympathy that 
 keeps her disease in mind." 
 
 It was Miss Dorothy's turn to color now. 
 " I wonder," she said, evading the point 
 raised, " I wonder often how you can feel so 
 gay, coming as you do from the very presence 
 of death every day. You drive about as care- 
 less and easy as if there were not a sorrowful 
 heart in the world. You were actually whistling 
 when I stopped. Not that whistling is wicked, 
 but it is strange that you can feel like it. Did 
 you ever have any trials ? " she asked curiously. 
 " Not more than were good for me." The 
 doctor's face was now considerably clouded by 
 the sympathy he was receiving, and he an- 
 swered shortly. His horse pawed the ground 
 impatiently. " Stand still, Bayard. Be quiet, 
 sir. We'll be off directly. You are in a hurry 
 as well as your master," said the doctor. 
 
 Miss Dorothy paid no attention to this hint.
 
 Sympathy. 247 
 
 " Some folks, doctor, can throw their trials 
 one side and go on as if nothing were the mat- 
 ter. They really don't seem to be able to feel 
 even for themselves. But if I were you 1 
 would get into the habit of feeling for others. 
 It would help you as a doctor more than any 
 thing else. There is old Doctor Rose. You 
 know him ? " 
 
 " I have met him once or twice." 
 " He is the favorite doctor in this region." 
 " Is he ? " Doctor Ludlow had good reason 
 to doubt this, but he didn't say so. . 
 
 " Yes. He has so much sympathy. He al- 
 ways prays with his parents. Do you ever try 
 that?" 
 
 " No, ma'am." 
 
 The doctor was a Christian, but, like many 
 others, was reticent in regard to his own experi- 
 ence, and, therefore, reluctant to inquire into 
 the religious feelings of others. It was back- 
 wardness that he lamented daily. He was 
 striving to overcome it, for no one was more 
 sensible than himself of the peculiar opportuni- 
 ties to do good to the souls of men that open to 
 a pious physician. Still, Miss Dorothy's cate- 
 chising grated upon his feelings. Her curious
 
 248 Sympathy. 
 
 scrutiny of his actions seemed indelicate. It 
 irritated him. 
 
 " Doctor," said Miss Dorothy, " I never see 
 you without feeling sorry for you. You are 
 young, and you want practice, of course, and 
 you can't help that cheerful look. You can't 
 look like Dr. Rose if you try." 
 
 The old doctor's solemn phiz came up so 
 vividly before the young man's mind that he 
 laughed heartily in spite of his vexation. 
 
 " You are quite right, Miss Dorothy," he said 
 presently. Then, observing her shocked look, 
 he added good-naturedly, " Dr. Rose is an ex- 
 cellent man and a skillful doctor, but he is 
 thirty years older than I am, so I cannot hope 
 to look like him very soon. Thank you for 
 your interest in me all the same." 
 
 " Yes," said Miss Dorothy complacently, " it 
 is well for you that I do feel an interest in you. 
 When Abby Nelson died, and the folks said 
 it was your medicine that killed her, I stood 
 up for you. I said that when you had mixed 
 drugs a few years longer you would under- 
 stand the nature of them better. ' He's young, 
 I said." 
 
 "Why, Miss Dorothy!" the young doctor's
 
 Sympathy. 249 
 
 face was quite solemn enough now " I did not 
 give Miss Nelson any medicine. She died be- 
 fore I saw her. She broke a blood-vessel." 
 
 "Well, I declare! how folks will lie!" Miss 
 Dorothy's indignation was genuine. Whatever 
 may be thought of her way of expressing 
 sympathy, she was no backbiter. She never 
 slandered people. In the language of one 
 of her intimate friends, " she had her good 
 failings." 
 
 " You mustn't mind what folks say," she went 
 on in a tone of real interest. " You must learn 
 to live above it. Now every body is talking 
 because Nancy Clenman don't try some other 
 doctor. You have attended her so long, you 
 see. And the poor girl does not get better. 
 Now, do you think she does ?" 
 
 " She will never be any better," said the 
 young doctor sadly. His face was any thing 
 but cheerful now. Nannie Clenman had injured 
 her spine by a fall two years ago, and she would 
 lie helplessly on her couch and suffer great pain 
 until it should please God, the pitying Father, 
 to take her to his rest. 
 
 " I would have a council of doctors if J were 
 you," advised Miss Dorothy.
 
 250 Sympathy. 
 
 " It would do no good, and they are too poor 
 to bear the expense." 
 
 " It would take the responsibility off your 
 shoulders. Don't you see ? People will talk, 
 you know." 
 
 " Yes ; I suppose they v/ill. But, Miss Dor- 
 othy, I would rather not know what is said 
 about me or my practice. You mean well, but 
 it is very discouraging. I must bid you good- 
 day now or some of my sick ones will be im- 
 patient." 
 
 "The mercy!" ejaculated Miss Dorothy as 
 she watched him cantering down the street. 
 " How touchy he is ! He might at least have 
 thanked me for my sympathy. Why, I have 
 stood here condoling with him a full half hour 
 if I have a minute. Well, well, I don't expect 
 to be appreciated in this world. I'm glad for 
 one there is a future state." 
 
 Being now in a pious and elevated frame of 
 mind, she decided to call on a sick lady who 
 had been ill so long that peopla were used to 
 the idea of it, and, as a matter of course, thought 
 very little about it. 
 
 " Yes, I'll go in and see Mrs. Elder. Poor 
 woman ! she'll be glad enough to see any body
 
 Sympathy. 251 
 
 who will sympathize with her. Why didn't I 
 think to ask Dr. Ludlow if there were any new 
 cases of sickness, so that I could tell her about 
 them. I do believe," said Miss Dorothy, " that 
 she wouldn't hear of half the deaths in the 
 place if it were not for me." 
 
 Mrs. Elder was an invalid without any defi- 
 nite ailment. She was exceedingly frail and 
 delicate-looking, and suffered greatly from nerv- 
 ous weakness and general debility. She could 
 not bear excitement, and often became so sen- 
 sitive to noises that the sudden slamming of a 
 door made her hysterical. She was subject to 
 long and severe attacks of headache, during 
 which the slightest jar in the room, or a whis- 
 pered word, occasioned her exquisite torture. 
 She was young, not yet twenty-five, and, in 
 spite of the ravages of illness, a very beautiful 
 woman. 
 
 Miss Dorothy's pity for her was very sincere. 
 She made it a point to call on her as often as 
 once a week. It was Mr. Elder's opinion, some- 
 times very strongly expressed, that his wife 
 was invariably worse after one of these visits, 
 and the invalid herself began to be conscious 
 
 of a shuddering dread whenever her sharpened 
 IT
 
 252 Sympathy. 
 
 sense of hearing recognized Miss Dorothy's 
 soft knock at the door. There was a sense of 
 relief at the close of each visit, that the invalid 
 would not have been willing to acknowledge to 
 herself; and a "fearful looking forward," as if a 
 dentist were coming to extract her eye-teeth, 
 whenever the advent of an unusually fine day 
 seemed especially calculated to allure people 
 out of doors. 
 
 "She will come to-day, I think," she said, 
 glancing out of the window at the pleasant 
 October sunshine and unconsciously sighing. 
 
 " O yes, you are so much better, my dear," 
 said Mr. Elder, "that it is high time for her to 
 come and overset you. I should like to give 
 her a piece of my mind a good, generous slice. 
 I shall do it yet." 
 
 "O no," remonstrated his wife; "you must 
 not forget, Tom, that she was one of my mother's 
 friends." 
 
 " Bother the friends ! Shows bad taste in 
 your mother. She is no friend of my wife, or 
 of myself, I am happy to say. A queer sort of 
 friendship that tries to kill its object." 
 
 "Why, Tom!" 
 
 " Ah. Bessie, you can shake your head if you
 
 Sympathy. 253 
 
 like, but I must say that, for a good woman, she 
 has a wonderful power of making other folks 
 feel wicked. Why, I never see her coming into 
 the house without feeling my dander rise. She 
 comes in so pompously, as if she were appointed 
 our inspector-general, and looks about with an 
 air that says, 'Just trot out your family skeleton, 
 for I'm bound to get a good look at it.' Tell 
 you what it is, Bessie, I should like to take her 
 by the nape of her neck and turn her inquisitive 
 nose decidedly toward home." 
 
 Bessie laughed merrily. Her husband had 
 such an overplus of life and good spirits that it 
 really refreshed her weaker nature to hear him 
 laugh and scold together like a good-humored 
 giant. There was no suggestion of illness or 
 suffering in his healthy face and tall, portly 
 figure, and Bessie often forgot her bad feelings 
 while listening to him. 
 
 " You will frighten me, Tom," she said at 
 last " You are positively ferocious. I didn't 
 think you could show such a spirit. Poor Miss 
 Dorothy!" Bessie continued, "she means well. 
 It is her way of expressing sympathy." 
 
 " Sympathy ! It is her way of meddling with 
 other folks' business. And there she comes.
 
 254 Sympathy. 
 
 The old saying is true, 'The devil is nearest 
 when we are talking about him.' What will you 
 do? Take ether?" 
 
 " Don't keep me laughing, I beg. What will 
 she think of me ?" Bessie tried hard to straight- 
 en her face to a decorous length. 
 
 " Don't trouble yourself, my dear, she will 
 soon sober you. She frightened you into hys- 
 terics the last time she was here." 
 
 " Well, I wont mind what she says now. 
 Why don't Bridget open the street door ? She 
 has rung twice. Do, Tom, let her in," urged 
 Bessie nervously, still using her best endeavors 
 to smother a giggle. 
 
 " She should ring a week before I would let 
 her in of my own accord." 
 
 But he went to the door, nevertheless. Miss 
 Dorothy was not particularly glad to find him 
 at home. She felt instinctively that Mr. Elder 
 did not appreciate her. She had several times 
 thought his half-defiant manner might be inter- 
 preted as a desire for her to keep away. She 
 had usually contrived to call when he was 
 absent, it was so much pleasanter to have his 
 wife all to herself. But if a man chose to stay 
 in his own house, with his own wife, she could
 
 Sympathy. 255 
 
 not help it, so she followed him into the house 
 after inquiring after his wife. 
 
 "She is nicely, I thank you improving fast," 
 said Mr. Elder. " She is in very good spirits, 
 too, and we are careful to avoid all gloomy sub- 
 jects in conversation. If any body brings in a 
 lot of blues we just bundle them out of doors, 
 blues and all. There is no use in being cere- 
 monious in such matters," he added as Miss 
 Dorothy swept by him into his wife's room. 
 
 " Don't get up, my dear child," she said as 
 Bessie rose to receive her. " Why, what have 
 you been doing to yourself. You are as pale 
 as a ghost. Are you faint ?" 
 
 "No, I I believe not," replied Bessie, glan- 
 cing into a mirror opposite with a frightened 
 look. 
 
 " Well, you look faint. There isn't a particle 
 of color in your lips. When I was in here last 
 week I thought you had no flesh to lose, but I 
 can see that you have grown thin." 
 
 " On the contrary, she has gained a pound in 
 that time. I weighed her myself this morning. 
 I never saw any one improve more rapidly." 
 
 " Perhaps she had on some extra clothing. 
 Still, when people are ill their weight is apt to
 
 256 Sympathy. 
 
 be variable, and a pound more or less does not 
 prove any thing. Have you any appetite ?" 
 
 "I should think she had," said Mr. Elder, 
 still answering for his wife. " I am afraid to 
 say how much beefsteak she ate for dinner." 
 
 Miss Dorothy sighed a benevolent sort of 
 sigh, as if it went to her heart to dissipate the 
 hopes of her listeners, but it must be done. 
 
 " Voracity is often a bad symptom ; always 
 so toward the last. My dear child, it makes me 
 very sad to see you wasting away so." 
 
 Bessie felt a chilly, nervous tremor stealing 
 over her, and again she glanced involuntarily 
 into the glass to find out by her own observa- 
 tion whether she were alive or dead. It was a 
 pale, scared face that she saw, and she shivered 
 visibly. Her husband sat down by her side 
 and put his arm around her. 
 
 " I didn't want to hug Bessie right before 
 her," he said afterward, " because I knew the 
 old humbug never had a genuine hug in her life, 
 and so might die of envy ; but I drew her up 
 pretty snug and whispered, ' Shall I shoot her ?' 
 This set Bessie to laughing again ; or, rather, 
 it was a mixture of hysterical laughing and 
 crying."
 
 Sympathy. 257 
 
 " Dear me ! " exclaimed Miss Dorothy, look- 
 ing at her compassionately, "how weak your 
 poor nerves are ! There is Annie Wheeler 
 she was just so at first." 
 
 "Annie Wheeler!" Bessie repeated in stir- 
 prise. " I have not heard any thing about 
 Annie." 
 
 " I did not mean you to hear it at present," 
 said her husband, " because you are weak, and 
 I knew it would shock you. But I must tell 
 you now, I suppose. Annie is in the insane 
 asylum." 
 
 "After murdering her child," put in Miss 
 Dorothy solemnly. 
 
 Bessie hid her face on her husband's shoulder 
 and clung to him convulsively. " O, Tom, if I 
 ever should be like that ! " 
 
 " You never will, my darling. You are no 
 more like Annie than I am." 
 
 " Mr. Elder," asked Miss Dorothy impress- 
 ively, " do you think it does any good to deceive 
 people who are ill ? " 
 
 " No, ma'am, I do not. I never did it in my 
 life," he answered. Bessie smiled trustfully as 
 she looked up into his clear, honest eyes. " I 
 should like to ask you a question, Miss Dorothy.
 
 258 Sympathy. 
 
 What earthly good can it do a nervous invalid 
 to be excited by gloomy forebodings or fright- 
 ened by accounts of murder ? I know that is 
 your way of showing sympathy, but I object to 
 Bessie's being tormented in that way. In fact, 
 I wont permit it. Now, if you can come in like 
 a cheerful Christian, as you ought to be at your 
 time of life, and bring only cheerful influences 
 with you, why, come and welcome. But if you 
 must turn our parlor into a grave-yard, stay 
 away, for mercy's sake, and oblige yours, re- 
 spectfully, Thomas Elder." 
 
 Bessie laughed again. It was so funny to 
 hear him gravely conclude his speech as if he 
 were finishing a letter. Miss Dorothy looked 
 at her pityingly. 
 
 " I will go. I meant to tell you about the 
 fever in Warrington, and about your Uncle 
 Charles being so unfortunately drowned, but I 
 will go. Send for me if you need me. I stood 
 by the death-beds of your mother and your 
 grandmother, and I shall not refuse to stand by 
 yours." 
 
 Bessie shuddered again and turned very pale. 
 
 " We are not dying yet," said Mr. Elder an- 
 grily ; " and if we were, I dare say we could
 
 Sympathy. 259 
 
 manage it without your help. Shall I have the 
 pleasure of opening the front door for you ? 
 If she had only been a man," he said to Bessie 
 on his return to the parlor, " I would have 
 helped her down the steps with the toe of my 
 boot. However, I guess she will keep away in 
 future." 
 
 As for Miss Dorothy, standing bewildered in 
 the street, it would be difficult to describe her 
 state of feeling. It was very evident that her 
 sympathy for others was not appreciated. Was 
 it worth while to continue her efforts ? " I 
 think," said the good lady, " that I will go no 
 farther this afternoon. I will go home and 
 meditate." 
 
 Miss Dorothy meditated a good deal in the 
 course of the evening. It was an unusual ex- 
 ercise and rather puzzled Aunt Ruthie, who 
 was accustomed to listen with admiring humility 
 to her sister's accounts of her visits. It is true 
 that, as she listened, strong doubts would often 
 suggest themselves as to whether Miss Dorothy 
 always hit upon the best methods of comforting 
 those who needed consolation ; and once she 
 went so far as to think that sympathy must be 
 harder to bear than actual trials. You see
 
 260 Sympathy. 
 
 Aunt Ruth was such a quiet, gentle little wom- 
 an, with such a shy sense of delicacy in regard 
 to other people's affairs, and such a shrinking 
 timidity as to being herself known as a helper, 
 that she could not be expected to understand 
 the broader field that her sister occupied. She 
 rather liked the meditative mood of the even- 
 ing. Sometimes it was pleasanter to think than 
 to listen. And this evening, while her fingers 
 worked nimbly to finish little Nannie's dress, 
 all sorts of pleasant fancies were filling her 
 head. 
 
 In the morning Miss Dorothy arose armed 
 with new strength. The plain remarks of Doc- 
 tor Ludlow and Mr. Elder still rankled in her 
 mind like a set of unpleasant thorns ; but she 
 was not to be turned from the noble mission 
 of her life by the rude rebuffs of two men. 
 " What could they know of the power of sym- 
 pathy ? " she asked indignantly, brushing out 
 her hair with such energy that nothing but a 
 timely fear of not leaving enough to fasten her 
 chignon kept her from becoming suddenly bald 
 in spots. 
 
 " Men," she went on with an inspiration that 
 made her akin to the strongest women's rights
 
 Sympathy. 26 1 
 
 women of the day, " men have strength, animal 
 strength, but no hearts. I am glad ahem ! 
 well, I ought to be glad I am not tied to one of 
 them." 
 
 Now Miss Dorothy, even while sturdily as- 
 serting her rights to comfort people in spite of 
 themselves, had an undercurrent of conviction 
 in her mind, or, rather, an instinctive sense 
 that she was not so much actuated by compas- 
 sionate interest as by a desire to meddle with 
 and control the affairs of others. A woman's 
 instinct is nearly always reliable, and is often a 
 safer guide than the slower process of reasoning. 
 
 Miss Dorothy's instinct was a true one. It 
 was so clearly in the right that it was some- 
 times impossible to stifle it by the most eloquent 
 setting forth of the happy influence of sympathy. 
 On this particular morning there was such a 
 struggle in her mind between common sense on 
 the one hand and a desire to magnify her " mis- 
 sion " on the other, that she sat down to the 
 tempting breakfast prepared by her sister with- 
 out once remembering to appropriate for her 
 own eating the crispest buckwheat or the juciest 
 part of the steak. Noticing this, Aunt Ruthie 
 anxiously inquired if she were ill.
 
 262 Sympathy. 
 
 " No Why do you ask ? " 
 
 " I thought you did not seem like yourself." 
 
 No response was made to this remark, and 
 both sisters ate in silence till the sudden ring- 
 ing of the door-bell startled them. 
 
 " Who can it be at this time of the morning ? " 
 said Aunt Ruthie, going to the window and peer- 
 ing down into the yard in the vain effort to ob- 
 tain a view of their visitor. 
 
 " You will be more likely to find out by going 
 to the door," said Miss Dorothy. 
 
 Aunt Ruth meekly obeyed the hint. It was 
 a little red-headed boy, and he wanted Miss 
 Dorothy. 
 
 " My mother wants her to come straight over 
 to our house as quick as she can." 
 
 " Your mother is Mrs. Cornell, is she not ? " 
 
 " Yes, ma'am." 
 
 " Is any thing the matter ? Is she sick ? " 
 
 Aunt Ruth's kindly thoughts were off in a 
 twinkling in an excursion among the dried herbs 
 in the attic. % 
 
 " I don't know," said the boy, taking off his 
 cap to scratch his head. " She told me to come 
 over here quicker'n lightning and fetch Miss 
 Dorothy. That is all I know."
 
 Sympathy. 263 
 
 " Well, I'll tell her," said Aunt Ruth doubt- 
 fully as she slowly closed the door after him. 
 " If it is a case of real sickness now, Mrs. Cor- 
 nell may need a cup of gruel or broth more than 
 sympathy." 
 
 It is impossible to describe Miss Dorothy's 
 sudden elation of spirits when the boy's message 
 was repeated to her. It would, without doubt, 
 give her a chance to work in her own way. It 
 settled the question whether she was needed or 
 not. And it was truly providential that when 
 she was just yielding to her discouraging fears, 
 there should come to her very door a stroke of 
 business in her own line. 
 
 As soon as she could put on her bonnet and 
 shawl, without even waiting to finish her break- 
 fast, only delaying long enough to tell Aunt 
 Ruth to keep the dishes hot till her return, she 
 started for Mrs. Cornell's. The red-headed 
 boy was watching for her by the door, and he 
 ushered her at once into his mother's sitting- 
 room. 
 
 A middle-aged woman sat in a large arm- 
 chair, rocking herself backward and forward, 
 and groaning fearfully. "O, Miss Dorothy," 
 she exclaimed, " I am so glad to see you ! Bill,
 
 264 Sympathy. 
 
 go out and shut the door after you. Boys," said 
 Mrs. Cornell, getting up herself to see if the 
 doors were shut " Boys are forever in the way. 
 It is a puzzle what they were made for. Now 
 I will tell you something. I have been in a 
 worry for two or three days, and my husband 
 only laughs at me. I am sure you will not do 
 that." 
 
 " No," replied Miss Dorothy solemnly, " I 
 never laugh at trouble. It is very unfeeling for 
 any one to do so." 
 
 " So I think. I told my husband so almost 
 in your very words. But he said he'd had doz- 
 ens of them and never thought they were worth 
 mentioning." 
 
 " Yes," said Miss Dorothy, not quite under- 
 standing whether " dozens " referred to children 
 or cabbages. 
 
 "And Martha says they are as common as 
 huckleberries, and are good for one's health, too. 
 Of course she isn't frightened if her father makes 
 light of it." 
 
 " No," said Miss Dorothy, still feeling her way 
 through the mist, " I suppose not." 
 
 " O, dear ! " Mrs. Cornell was again rocking 
 herself furiously. " I suppose there is a great
 
 Sympathy. 265 
 
 deal in taking it in time, though I've always 
 said if I ever had one I would give right up and 
 die without doing a thing. Mrs. Woodward 
 has had three, but she took them in the begin- 
 ning. I heard last week that she had another, 
 and that is what worries me. Once started, it 
 is impossible to be entirely clear of them. O, 
 dear ! " 
 
 " Can I help you about it ? " Miss Dorothy 
 hesitated, not certain to what she might commit 
 herself. 
 
 " I don't know. I will show it to you." 
 
 Miss Dorothy started and looked keenly into 
 all the corners of the room and under the tables 
 with a vague idea that some animal was to be 
 exhibited. 
 
 It was nothing of the kind. Mrs. Cornell 
 hurriedly unfastened the neck of her dress, and, 
 slipping it down, displayed on the tip of her 
 shoulder one of those troublesome swellings 
 commonly called " pussy-boils." " Did you ever 
 see any thing like it ? It has been swelling and 
 swelling for three days." 
 
 If that were true it had been extremely lazy 
 about it, for now it was not as large as a 
 walnut.
 
 266 Sympathy. 
 
 " What do you suppose it is ? Don't touch 
 it, for pity's sake. What is it ? " 
 
 " Not a felon ? " suggested Miss Dorothy, 
 whose knowledge of tumors was limited to their 
 names. 
 
 " A felon ? No. Felons don't come on the 
 neck. They start from the bone, too. Steve 
 had a felon. I know what a felon is." 
 
 " What have you done for it ? " 
 
 " Not much. I am afraid of driving it back 
 into my blood, or bringing it to an open sore. 
 Steve says I had better poultice it, but what do 
 men know ? " 
 
 " Very little indeed," assented Miss Dorothy 
 with an emphasis only to be explained by her yes- 
 terday's encounter with Mr. Elder. " Scarcely 
 any thing, in fact. But, my dear Mrs. Cornell," 
 she went on with a wise look, " I do not wish 
 to frighten you, but have any of your relations 
 ever died of cancer ? " 
 
 " Why, my mother did. And that is just 
 what I've been telling Steve. I thought of it 
 as soon as I heard about Mrs. Woodward." 
 
 " What did your husband say ? " 
 
 " He said I could not scare my wits out with 
 borrowed trouble. And ' besides,' said he, ' the
 
 Sympathy. 267 
 
 thing will come to a head and burst before you 
 have time to get crazy.' That's all the sympa- 
 thy he gave me." 
 
 " How unfeeling ! Positively brutal ! " 
 
 "You don't think it is really a cancer?" 
 queried the poor woman, ready to catch at any 
 thing hopeful in spite of her own persistence in 
 foreboding. 
 
 " Does it burn and sting ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " And itch ? " 
 
 "Yes. O, dear!" 
 
 "Well, if I were you," said Miss Dorothy 
 impressively, " if I were you I would show it to 
 the doctor. It might be cut out, you know." 
 
 " My sakes ! " 
 
 " It is true, as you say, that cancers are apt 
 to come again after they are cut out. In fact, 
 they are pretty sure to do so. But there was 
 Mary Ann Day she lived a year longer for 
 having hers taken out. And life is sweet." 
 
 " I don't know about that if one has to be 
 dying all the time. But I'll see the doctor. 
 That can't do any hurt. Perhaps," said the 
 poor woman, "we may be mistaken. And 
 
 there's one thing about it," she added stoutly, 
 
 is
 
 268 Sympathy. 
 
 " I am not going to suffer death with a cancer 
 if I haven't got one. I'll go straight down to 
 Dr. Ludlow's office." 
 
 " Not to the young doctor ? " 
 
 " Yes. Why not ? He is our family doctor. 
 I guess he can tell a cancer if he sees one." 
 
 " But old Dr. Rose is so sympathetic." 
 
 " If I have really got a cancer I don't want 
 any sympathy. I will just bear it. If it is not 
 a cancer I don't need any." 
 
 Without further parley or a word of apology, 
 Mrs. Cornell tied on her bonnet and started 
 briskly down the street, leaving her visitor alone 
 in the house. 
 
 " There's manners for you, at any rate," said 
 Miss Dorothy as she followed at a slower pace. 
 " The next time I leave a good warm breakfast 
 to investigate a goose-pimple on a spleeny wom- 
 an's shoulder I shall be several years older than 
 I am now. I should just like to know what 
 Dr. Ludlow says to her." 
 
 Her curiosity was gratified in a short time. 
 Mrs. Cornell, who supposed Miss Dorothy to 
 be seriously alarmed on her account, no sooner 
 had her own fears set at rest than she bethought 
 herself of her duty to quiet her visitor's anxie-
 
 Sympathy. 269 
 
 ties. Miss Dorothy had not quite finished her 
 second attempt at eating her breakfast before 
 the door-bell rang, and the red-headed lad ap- 
 peared again. This time he had a note for her. 
 It ran thus : 
 
 " Deer Miss dorothy, steve was rite. It is a bile. The 
 kore is cum out. the doctor put on a plaster, the pane 
 
 is Stopt. "MARTHA CORNELL." 
 
 A whole week now passed by without any at- 
 tempts on the part of Miss Dorothy to lighten 
 the burdens of her suffering fellow-creatures. 
 It was a stroke of policy on her part. Just let 
 people try what they could do without her sym- 
 pathy and then see. Blessings are never valued 
 as they should be until they are taken away. 
 
 " If there is one class of people who need 
 sympathy more than others it is the ministers 
 and their families." 
 
 Miss Dorothy looked across the little work- 
 stand between her and her sister with the air 
 of one who has just made and is announcing a 
 grand discovery. 
 
 " You see, Ruthie, that not only their busi- 
 ness, but all their associations, are different 
 from the common worldly people around them.
 
 2/O Sympathy. 
 
 Their work is a spiritual work, and this fact 
 is never to be lost sight of. It is a solemn 
 work, a responsible work, the care of immortal 
 souls." 
 
 "Yes," answered Aunt Ruth absently, her 
 mind running on the propriety of offering a 
 glass of her clear apple-jelly to an invalid lady 
 who had just moved into the place, and conse- 
 quently had few acquaintances there. " They 
 are rich, to be sure," she said aloud, " but still 
 it might be pleasant for her to know that we 
 thought of her comfort." 
 
 " Rich ! " repeated her sister. " How did you 
 find that out ? His salary is not large. I was 
 not aware that he had any thing else." 
 
 " I don't know any thing about his salary. I 
 only judged from their way of living. They 
 would not keep two servants if they were very 
 poor." 
 
 " Two servants ! Have you lost your senses, 
 Ruth ? You know as well as I do what his 
 salary is, and that Mrs. Mason does her own 
 work." 
 
 " Excuse me, Dorothy. I was speaking of the 
 lady who has moved into Woodbine Cottage." 
 
 " I was talking about the minister's folks,"
 
 Sympathy. 271 
 
 responded Miss Dorothy loftily. " I do be- 
 lieve, Ruth, that you grow absent-minded every 
 day. It is not a very polite habit. I would 
 break it up if I were you." 
 
 " Yes," replied Aunt Ruth, meekly, " it is a 
 bad habit, as you say. I suppose I have fallen 
 into it from staying so much alone. I must 
 correct it/' 
 
 Still, the almost transparent apple-jelly would 
 not be dismissed from her thoughts. It would 
 be such an unpretending way of showing a 
 neighborly interest ; not a bit like offering 
 charity ; only saying, as gently as possible, 
 " We know you are ill. Let us help you if we 
 can." 
 
 I wish I could tell you just how Aunt Ruth 
 looked. She was not so very old not more 
 than sixty, but her hair was all white like silver. 
 She had hazel-brown eyes with the pleasantest 
 expression, and yet with a look in them that 
 told you she had suffered. There was a soft 
 peachy bloom on her cheek, and her forehead 
 was only a little wrinkled. Little Jimmie Lake, 
 who would come so shyly into the back door to 
 receive one of her turnovers, always told his 
 mother at night that Aunt Ruth's face was a
 
 272 Sympathy. 
 
 picture. It was such a sweet, lovely old face, 
 with a peace in it that made you think of the 
 angels a face that rested and quieted the 
 looker-on ; that unconsciously preached the 
 gospel of love. The softly smiling lips were 
 never heard to utter a slander or an unkind 
 word. One would as soon expect to find a well 
 of corruption in the heart of a white lily as to 
 catch a bit of unchristian gossip proceeding 
 from her mouth. 
 
 Aunt Ruth thought very little of herself. 
 The unconscious grace of her sweet humility 
 was very charming now, and it must have been 
 exceedingly attractive in those long-ago days 
 when handsome Harry Dayton won her for his 
 bride. Although his choice made her very 
 happy, she could not help being .surprised that 
 it had not fallen on her sister, who " had so 
 much more talent." How Harry laughed when 
 she told him so ! It was no wonder that she was 
 sometimes absent-minded, or that her thoughts 
 loved to linger among the memories of her ear- 
 lier life ; that the twin babies and almost idol- 
 ized husband should still seem a part of her 
 own being, though the Father had so long ago 
 taken them to his rest above.
 
 Sympathy. 273 
 
 Little children came as naturally to her as to 
 their own mothers. But they never troubled 
 her sister. Miss Dorothy's well of sympathy 
 was altogether too deep for children to sound. 
 
 " I guess," said little Fannie Lake, Jimmie's 
 sister, " I guess if you were a little girl, and had 
 the earache, you wouldn't want her to tuck you 
 into bed." 
 
 Still it was indisputable that Miss Dorothy 
 was a fine-looking woman, and a woman of con- 
 siderable intellectual power. Au/it Ruth watched 
 her in the afternoon as she walked down the 
 street toward the minister's house, and won- 
 dered anew why her own life had been so full 
 of love and tender ties, and her sister's com- 
 paratively so barren. 
 
 " She is so talented," she said admiringly. 
 " Now, I never should think of going down to 
 offer sympathy to our minister. He seemed so 
 good and so strong, so far above me somehow. 
 I could not help him if I were to try." 
 
 Aunt Ruth little knew the minister's estimate 
 of her lovely character, or how her sweet Chris- 
 tian graces sent a warm glow to his heart when 
 it sank down discouraged with its unavoidable 
 conflict with selfish and worldly Christians.
 
 274 Sympathy. 
 
 11 She restores my confidence in the power of a 
 really religious life," he would often say to his 
 wife. " I never see her without thinking of 
 Lowell's beautiful lines : 
 
 4 She doeth little kindnesses 
 
 Which most leave undone or despise ; 
 
 For naught that sets one heart at ease, 
 
 And giveth happiness or peace, 
 
 Is low esteemed in her eyes.' " 
 
 Aunt Ruth would have opened her eyes in 
 astonishment if she had heard this. As she 
 stood by the window watching her sister, and 
 thinking over the self-denying labors of the 
 pastor and the hinderances to his work, she 
 never once thought that she was one of the few 
 who kept him from utter despondency. 
 
 " It is just as Dorothy says," she said humbly. 
 " I need more sense and tact. When the baby 
 died at the parsonage last winter I felt perfectly 
 helpless. It was such a dear little boy, and I 
 had lost two at the same age. I knew just how 
 the poor mother's heart ached, but I could not 
 say a word. I cried like a baby myself when 
 she clung to my neck, the poor mother ! " said 
 Aunt Ruth, crying again at the recollection. 
 " I don't think either of us heard a word that
 
 Sympathy, 275 
 
 Sister Dorothy said, and I have no doubt that 
 it was it was just as appropriate as it could 
 be. I just hugged her tighter and tighter, and 
 we cried harder and harder. Somehow or other, 
 since that night Mrs. Mason and I have seemed 
 very near to each other, very near." 
 
 The minister, sitting by his study window, 
 saw Miss Dorothy approaching. He was feel- 
 ing low-spirited, decidedly so. Ministers will 
 have blue days. They are, of course, unreason- 
 able in this ; there are so many pleasant things 
 connected with their work, and so many reasons 
 why they should rise entirely above worldly 
 cares or selfish feelings, that looking on the 
 dark side is perfectly inexcusable in them. 
 With a memory full of sweet Bible promises, 
 and a sure title to a heavenly inheritance, any 
 depressed feelings or carefulness by the way is 
 simply ridiculous. 
 
 Still, Mr. Mason, sitting in his study alone, was 
 sensible of a general feeling of discontent, and 
 the pastor's work, including preaching as well 
 as general visiting, was very distasteful in his 
 eyes." 
 
 " It is of no use trying. I accomplish noth- 
 ing," he said again and again.
 
 276 Sympathy. 
 
 His brows were knit into as much of a scowl 
 as they could bear, but a darker cloud over- 
 shadowed his face as his eyes fell on Miss 
 Dorothy. 
 
 "Well," he said, "I thought a minute ago 
 that my prospects were as gloomy as they could 
 be, but I had forgotten the possibility of a call 
 from Miss Dorothy. I can bear any thing better 
 than her sympathy. I could endure very well 
 a visit from the Church treasurer," he continued, 
 smiling grimly, "provided he brought a portion 
 of my unpaid salary. Afterward I could look 
 the tailor and grocery dealer in the face. I could 
 also preach a plain Gospel sermon without ex- 
 pecting to receive a pile of unpaid bills if the 
 said sermons happened to fit any body. Yes, I 
 could bear a little money. And if this lazy 
 woman was coming to help my wife with her 
 ironing I could bear that. I would iron the 
 clothes myself if I knew how. But it is an im- 
 position," said the minister, looking out of the 
 window as the bell rang, " it is an imposition to 
 have to go down stairs just to be sympathized 
 with." 
 
 He went down, nevertheless. He knew that 
 his wife was too busy to receive her visitor, and
 
 Sympathy. 277 
 
 he knew also that Miss Dorothy would prolong 
 her stay till she had a chance to sympathize 
 with him. So he went down. Miss Dorothy 
 had often remarked to her sister that the minis- 
 ter had a cross look, and a curt, uncourteous 
 manner, but Ruth could never see it. He cer- 
 tainly looked cross now so cross that his 
 wife, who was busily ironing a starched shirt, 
 looked up into his churlish face with dismay, 
 which was nearly changed into a biflrst of laugh- 
 ter when she saw its cause in the person of Miss 
 Dorothy, who entered the room directly after 
 him. He was too cross to be polite, but his 
 wife greeted her unwelcome guest cordially. 
 She always made the best of every thing, even 
 of sympathy. 
 
 " Take this cushioned chair by the window," 
 she said. " I shall have this work out of the 
 way directly. I didn't hear the door-bell, Ed- 
 ward, or I should have answered it. I dare say 
 that Miss Dorothy will excuse you if you return 
 to your study. A minister's time is always 
 precious, you know," she added, turning with a 
 bright smile to her guest. 
 
 " Yes, I suppose so. A man cannot preach 
 without studying. But it is not always the
 
 278 Sympathy. 
 
 study of books that is necessary. A minister 
 needs to study his people, to mingle with them 
 familiarly if he would do them good. Don't 
 you think so, Brother Mason ? " 
 
 The minister, whose especial trial was pas- 
 toral visiting, gave a somewhat grudging assent 
 to this question. 
 
 " There is Mr. Allen, the preacher in Lake- 
 ville. He isn't much of a preacher, but he is 
 successful in his work. He goes among the 
 people and interests himself in their affairs, and 
 they feel as if he was one of themselves. He 
 don't freeze people to death," said Miss Dor- 
 othy, having the reception that Mr. Mason had 
 given her still fresh in her mind. "Nobody 
 would ever mistake him for an iceberg in 
 human form. His parishioners are sure of a 
 welcome when they take the trouble to call at 
 his house." 
 
 " He is a particular friend of ours," responded 
 Mrs. Mason quickly, afraid that her husband 
 would speak. His ungracious mood was not 
 usual with him, and the visitor did not know 
 that, while suffering with a nervous headache 
 himself, he had spent the whole of the previous 
 night by the couch of a dying child, soothing
 
 Sympathy. 279 
 
 its agonies and speaking words of comfort to 
 the sorrowing parents. 
 
 " Is he ? " said Miss Dorothy. " I suppose 
 he is a friend to every body, as a minister ought 
 to be. There is old Mrs. Draper. She is a 
 member of his Church. She told me that she 
 believed he was as anxious that her butter 
 should get the prize at the fair as if he had 
 made it himself. He can lead his people any- 
 where. They follow him just as sheep follow 
 their shepherd. They prosper, as a matter of 
 course. There is no trouble in raising his 
 salary. When people like their minister the 
 money comes easy." 
 
 Mr. Mason saw the beseeching look on his 
 wife's face, and answered civilly, " I am glad to 
 hear of their prosperity." 
 
 " What is the name of the preacher with 
 whom you exchanged last Sunday?" 
 
 " Hitchcock William Hitchcock." 
 
 " Now he is what I call a preacher. Our folks 
 were all delighted with him. The church 'was 
 crowded. I don't know when I've seen such a 
 congregation out. It was a treat to hear him." 
 
 "Yes, Brother Hitchcock is an excellent 
 preacher."
 
 280 Sympathy. 
 
 "I wonder how folks feel who hear such 
 preaching all the time. I was speaking about 
 it to Mrs. Taylor on our way home from meet- 
 ing, and she said we should be too proud as a 
 society if he were our preacher." 
 
 "I don't know about that. Brother Hitch- 
 cock is a humble, devoted man. I don't think 
 he would lead you far astray." 
 
 " The evening prayer-meeting was very spir- 
 itual. Brother Smith spoke. You know he 
 hardly ever takes any part. He said that he 
 was thankful to hear once more some real 
 Gospel sermons. He had been hungering for 
 the Word a long time, but now his soul had 
 been fed." 
 
 " I am rejoiced to hear that you were all 
 pleased and benefited." 
 
 " I knew you would be. I told Ruthie I would 
 run down and tell you about it. It is pleasant 
 to bring a word of comfort. But I must bid 
 you good afternoon now, for I want to call at 
 several places. Mrs. Butler's Jimmie is sick. 
 The doctor don't tell what the matter is, but 
 the child has been exposed to the small-pox, 
 and I think his mother ought to know it." 
 
 " Jimmie died this morning of scarlatina. His
 
 Sympathy. 28 1 
 
 poor parents are in sad affliction. This is the 
 third child that they have lost, you know." 
 
 " O, dear ! is the child dead ? How very sud- 
 den ! I must go down there as fast as I can." 
 
 The minister looked bluer than ever as Miss 
 Dorothy departed on her mission of comfort, 
 but his wife laughed cheerily. 
 
 " I wonder, May, that you can smile," he said 
 in a vexed tone. " I am sure there is nothing 
 to laugh at." 
 
 " No ? Sit down here a minute, I want to 
 tell you something. I met a member of Brother 
 Hitchcock's Church at Sister Gray's last even- 
 ing. She told me that his people were so 
 charmed with your sermons last Sunday that 
 they will make an effort to secure you for their 
 pastor when Brother Hitchcock moves next 
 spring." 
 
 " Next spring ! why, May, he has only been 
 there a year." 
 
 " But he is unpopular, it seems. Now as we 
 shall move at the same time, it might be possi- 
 ble to secure him for this place. It seems that 
 he is appreciated here." 
 
 The minister smiled in spite of himself. 
 " You have a genius for planning, May."
 
 282 Sympathy. 
 
 "There are many ridiculous things in this 
 world," said his wife, watching him to note the 
 effect of her words, " but I know of none more 
 so than to see my husband, who is conscien- 
 tiously doing his best in the sublimest work 
 ever intrusted to man, looking as if the whole 
 world was shipwrecked and he were account- 
 able for the ruin to Miss Dorothy rather than 
 to his Master. Confess, Edward, that you are 
 ashamed of it." 
 
 He looked up more brightly. Her sunny 
 temper had often dispelled his gloomy feelings. 
 " I think, May, I will go back to the study. 
 You will reconcile me to myself, and I don't 
 think I want to be reconciled." 
 
 " No, don't go ; you wont study if you do. 
 You will just sit down and compose sentences 
 of condemnation against yourself. Besides, I 
 wrnt you to help me." 
 
 " May, I wish you would give me the secret 
 of your cheerfulness." 
 
 "Willingly. I just dp the best I can and 
 then let it alone. You do the best you can and 
 then worry over it. Now as God does not re- 
 quire any more than our best, I have concluded 
 to be satisfied if he is. If he required any
 
 Sympathy. 283 
 
 thing more, he would give me the ability to 
 perform it. I am willing to exert all my powers, 
 so are you. But I shall not creep away by my- 
 self and get as blue as indigo because I haven't 
 any more powers." 
 
 " But." persisted the husband, though his 
 face was rapidly clearing up, " I see so little 
 success." 
 
 " Well, my dear, that is God's part. You 
 know what your work is, and you do it that is 
 your part. Now please let it alone and help 
 me put this ironing apparatus away, and I will 
 make some biscuit for tea as light as well, as 
 light as Miss Dorothy's sympathy." 
 
 The blues vanished ; they could not hold 
 their ground a moment longer when opposed by 
 sweet home appreciation and common sense. 
 
 We will make one more call with Miss Dor- 
 othy and then leave her to the accomplishment 
 of her "mission." We will tread softly as we 
 enter the abode of sorrow where death is reign- 
 ing now. The mother sits almost hopelessly 
 by the side of her dead boy. A year ago 
 she rejoiced over four healthy, interesting chil- 
 dren. Only one remains, and that one is lying 
 
 in the adjoining room dangerously ill with the 
 10
 
 284 Sympathy. 
 
 same disease which has taken her sister and 
 two brothers. It is not strange that the poor 
 mother's brain is confused, and that she is 
 nearly distracted with grief. It is not strange 
 that the crushed spirit, crushed but not yet 
 subdued, should rebel at first against the unerr- 
 ing wisdom that so heavily afflicts her. It 
 nearly crazes her to see the neighbors' children 
 carelessly playing in the streets. Pitying friends 
 attempt to soothe, but she turns away from them 
 all. No one but God can comfort her. So they 
 leave her alone with her dead and gather in a 
 distant room to pray for her. 
 
 " Ah, this will never do," said Miss Dorothy 
 briskly, coming into the shaded room as if she 
 had a commission to arrest its mourning inmate 
 and convey her straightway to prison. " No, 
 indeed, you must not give way so. Think of 
 your many blessings." 
 
 The sufferer gave one quick glance into the 
 composed face above her, and then buried her 
 own face in the pillow by the side of her dead 
 boy. 
 
 " You must rouse yourself," Miss Dorothy 
 continued. "Think how much worse it might 
 have been. Suppose it had been your husband
 
 Sympathy. 285 
 
 or your mother," said Miss Dorothy encourag- 
 ingly, but checking herself as she remembered 
 that Mrs. Butler's mother had been dead about 
 a dozen years. " Or suppose they had all lived 
 to grow up and had then been taken don't 
 you see ?" 
 
 Apparently the mourner did not see, for she 
 made no attempt to answer. 
 
 " It is no worse for you than for thousands of 
 other people," pursued Miss Dorothy. " Chil- 
 dren are always dying somewhere, and, no 
 doubt, the most of them are better off. Yours 
 might have run into all kinds of sin if they had 
 lived. And this was always a sickly child. He 
 might have been a great care for years. Now, 
 my dear woman, just try to look at it in a proper 
 light. Don't it look reasonable that God knows 
 what is best better than you do ? " concluded 
 Miss Dorothy decidedly. 
 
 " O, dear ! " sighed the poor woman, " please 
 go away. O, why did they let you in ! " 
 
 "Is there nothing I can do for you?" asked 
 Miss Dorothy in a stately manner that showed 
 her vanity to be a little hurt by Mrs. Butler's 
 rejection of her sympathy. " I am willing to 
 do any thing in my power for you."
 
 286 Sympathy. 
 
 "You can do nothing except to go away. O, 
 please go at once ! " 
 
 Thus urged, Miss Dorothy left directly. Later 
 in the evening Aunt Ruthie stole noiselessly to 
 the poor mother's side and drew the weary, 
 aching head to rest upon her own bosom. She 
 said not a word, but gradually the heavy sighs 
 grew less frequent, the convulsive sobs less vio- 
 lent and protracted, until at last a gentle slum- 
 ber crept over her and wrapped her sorrow in 
 forgetfulness. 
 
 God pity her! God help her by his own 
 sweet consolations when she awakens !
 
 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 287 
 
 GLIMPSES 
 
 OF 
 
 OUR LAKE REGION. 
 
 y NOOG'S POND ! That is the old name 
 j!5^f for the clear sheet of water that stretches 
 for two or three miles across the highlands 
 which overlook one of our thriftiest New England 
 villages. It is a lake now ; in poetical parlance, 
 a " pearl of a lake," blue and hyaline. But it 
 is the same old pond, and there is scarcely a 
 spot all along its green borders which has not 
 its historical association or childish interest. 
 
 Not that in this changing world its banks 
 have been permitted to remain unaltered. 
 That were too much to ask, though inexorable 
 Fate might have been fitly entreated to spare 
 us the rude desecration of the beautiful which 
 the vandalism of man has perpetrated. There
 
 288 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 
 
 are long lines of Irish cabins on either shore, 
 and the fairest ground in all the region for the 
 prosecution of tasteful architecture or landscape 
 gardening is covered with a set of low, dirty, 
 rickety old huts, which are scarcely fit for the 
 habitation of swine. A pig of tolerable intelli- 
 gence would lose its self-respect and its ability 
 to fatten properly if condemned to accept so 
 unpromising a dwelling-place. 
 
 Notwithstanding this, when seen at a little 
 distance on a summer's evening there is a 
 quiet beauty about those clustering homes, and 
 an air of homely comfort in the bearing of 
 their etiquette-scorning tenants, which is curi- 
 ously attractive. The shadowy trees, leaning 
 over from the hill-side behind the cabins till 
 they are reflected in the dark, still waters, give 
 a coloring and finish to the picture. Women 
 and young girls in the quaintest varieties of 
 costume, bareheaded and barefooted, sit on the 
 door-steps, or gather in clusters under the trees 
 to enjoy a Babel of loud chatting ; and the men, 
 returned from the day's hard labor, refresh them- 
 selves with a quarrel or a fight preparatory to 
 eating their suppers. 
 
 It is a question whether there is not more
 
 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 289 
 
 real enjoyment of life and less anxious care in 
 those apparently comfortless dwellings than 
 in the more imposing homes of their Yankee 
 neighbors. It is certain that the torpid, expres- 
 sionless features, the pallid complexion, the list- 
 less air and languid step, which are the signs 
 and seals of our artificial life, have no coun- 
 terparts in an Irish cabin. Our cumbrous 
 etiquette seems to be accepted there for the 
 hollow humbug that it is ; and they would think 
 it a poor bargain to exchange their natural free- 
 dom of action and strong vitality for the shal- 
 low, paltry aims and elegant insipidity of our 
 genteel society. So far they are our superiors. 
 There is, no doubt, an element of satisfaction 
 in their cozy little fights and animated wran- 
 glings. There is no ceremony about them, no 
 polite routine to achieve the desired recreation ; 
 but an off-hand dashing into the business, a 
 relishing heartiness in the good, honest "knock- 
 downs," which is truly inspiring. The whole 
 enjoyment of the affair would be spoiled, lost 
 altogether, if subjected to the conventional 
 restrictions of refined quarreling. The result 
 is delightful. A warmer friendship than ever 
 blossoms out from the rudely shattered loves
 
 290 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 
 
 of the past, and the perpetual renewal of the 
 sacred affection keeps the heart young. 
 
 The beautiful "lake region" has been chris 
 tened New Ireland, in memory of the well- 
 beloved Erin across the sea. It is touching to 
 witness the feeling exhibited by Irishmen to- 
 ward the " swate jem o' the ocean blue, me 
 lads." They forgive the " ould counthree " its 
 poverty and degradation, its ignorance, and its 
 discomforts discomforts so unbearable as to 
 have forced them into exile. No matter. We 
 have only to mention the old loved haunts, and 
 we awaken at once the warm, gushing sympa- 
 thies of the heart, and the lowest and dirtiest 
 bog is straightway idealized into a strip of veri- 
 table fairy-land. This love of country is refresh- 
 ing. It would be a treasure if the Irishmen 
 knew how to turn it to account. We have 
 famous patriots who are doing a large business 
 on a smaller capital. 
 
 Glancing up the long street into the heart 
 of New Ireland, we notice that the whole place 
 is alive with some absorbing interest. Even 
 the children, the dirty, ragged little varlets, 
 have caught the general enthusiasm, and are 
 whooping, und laughing, and tumbling each
 
 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 291 
 
 other about in the most gratifying manner. 
 Look ! Do you see, what it is all about ? Jem 
 Parian and Terence Dougherty have come 
 home from the wars. They have served three 
 years, and they are mustered out of the service. 
 They are lions in New Ireland just now. You 
 may be sure of that. No wonder that the 
 women are so noisily joyful, for during all this 
 weary time they have seen two patient, lonely 
 wives living on the expectation of this day. 
 There is a new baby for each of the returned 
 soldiers to rejoice over ; not a wee, helpless 
 infant, but a noisy boy or girl at play in the 
 street ; yet, in spite of its size, the baby still. 
 Both nearly three years old, and telling plainer 
 than any thing else of those long months of 
 waiting. What a number of older children 
 gather about the two men ! They have grown 
 out of all likeness to the Mat, Bob, Dennis, 
 and Peter of three years ago, and some of them 
 look nearly old enough to go to the wars on their 
 own account. From their black eyes, and the 
 green and blue bruises on their foreheads and 
 arms, we conclude that the sublime art of fight- 
 ing is not unknown to them. It is a happy 
 time in New Ireland.
 
 292 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 
 
 Let us turn to look down upon the neat, 
 commodious houses of our Yankee village. 
 We cannot help noting its evident thrift, its 
 home comforts and tasteful adjuncts. It has, 
 withal, a proper look, and we doubt if such a 
 general expression of sympathy and honest 
 affection could be got up in its well-behaved 
 precincts. Our returned soldier came home 
 last night. He came home to affectionate 
 home-greetings, and in the evening Keepler's 
 brass band gave him a serenade, and were 
 treated with cake and iced lemonade as usual. 
 Half hidden in the shadiest corners were faces 
 radiant with unexpressed delight ; but our 
 soldier did not come home to the whole big 
 heart of the community like those returned 
 Irishmen. There was nothing even indecorous 
 in our welcoming, no boisterous exultations, no 
 excess whatever, whereas every son and daugh- 
 ter of Erin will be jubilantly drunk before ten 
 o'clock to-night. They would be ashamed to 
 be sober on so glorious an occasion. 
 
 AILEEN. 
 
 In all New England there is not a neater, 
 smarter, or more knowing woman than Aileen.
 
 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 293 
 
 It is fifteen years, " laving out the four o' 
 them," she tells me, since she embarked for 
 America. She was young and unmarried then, 
 but she had a lover, " an oncommon lad and a 
 fine one, wi' a talent for keeping still nowhere." 
 That is, in American speech, a rolling stone 
 which would not be likely to gather moss. 
 
 There were always such brilliant opportuni- 
 ties to get rich openings before him that, 
 although the breadth of the ocean generally 
 intervened between his Eldorado and himself, 
 the golden chances gleaming in the distance 
 quite prevented his giving his mind to the 
 accomplishment of the work at hand. This 
 trait in his character often made him a trial 
 rather than a comfort to his betrothed ; but it 
 was seldom that she could look into his hand- 
 some face without forgetting his faults alto- 
 gether. And yet her strong common-sense 
 kept her from becoming his wife. She was 
 prophet enough to foretell the result, and had 
 too much pride to experience it. 
 
 " It's a lady I'll make of yees, Aileen," he 
 would say. "An ye'll marry me at once and 
 narry a bother more, it's off I'll be directly a 
 ^ o' me fortune."
 
 294 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 
 
 " No doot o' that," responded matter-of-fact 
 Aileen. " I can belave that, and more, if ye 
 plaze." 
 
 " Belave what ? " 
 
 " That ye'll be off directly, shure. Ye're that 
 onasy that nothing on arth, barrin' the' skirling 
 from one town or counthree to anither, can kape 
 ye quiet at all ; but I'll no marry ye, Dennis, 
 till ye settle to something." 
 
 " Now, thin, Aileen, darlint, how can ye be so 
 onrasonable ? Isn't it for yer own sake that I 
 want to be rich ? Bother the goold, an' espe- 
 cially the working for it, an it were to be spint 
 on meself. Think better of it, and let me spake 
 to Father Adrian at once." 
 
 " No, indade. Whin ye give up yer grand 
 scheming, and work for yer livin' I shall be 
 ready for the praste. But I'll not work for 
 your praties, lad, afther earnin' me own. Not 
 I ! An ye were a thousand times handsomer 
 than yerself I would stick to that same." 
 
 Aileen looked pretty enough while making 
 her protest of independence to have settled the 
 mind of any common lover to remain with her, 
 and work for her, too ; but Dennis Maylan could 
 not so easily part with his wonderful fancies.
 
 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 295 
 
 "Arrah, Aileen," he said, "jist think of 
 the dee when ye'll ride in yer own carriage, 
 
 darlin'." 
 
 
 
 " Don't lave till ye'ye paid for yer coat, 
 Dennis." 
 
 " It's scarce worth its price now, Aileen," 
 replied Dennis, composedly displaying a couple 
 of rents in the elbows. 
 
 " It was too fine to last. But ye're in debt 
 for it the same. A hard-workin' man is Larry, 
 an' too oblaging for his own good, or he'd not 
 trust paple to wear out clothes before pay in' 
 for them." 
 
 " I will pay for it wi' the first money I 
 get." 
 
 " He has four lads o' his own, Dennis, and all 
 his dead sister's children to mind. It were a 
 sore shame an ye should forget yer debt to him, 
 an he strugglin' to shoulder his burden." 
 
 " I'll not forget," again promised Dennis. 
 " An when I come home from Australia he'll 
 find me a frind worth havin', I'll promise 
 yees." 
 
 "He kapes the bit laddies both bluff and 
 tidy. He is mother and father both to the 
 orphans. Ye'll remember it, Dennis ? "
 
 296 Glimpses of our Lake Region, 
 
 "Av coorse. An ye shall set oop the lile 
 lads in thrade, Aileen, and we'll build a snoog 
 cabin for the ould tailor. We'll not be getting 
 stinginess wi' our riches. That would spoil 
 all," said Dennis, smiling benevolently over the 
 bounteous provision in store for his worthy 
 creditor. 
 
 " It will be time enough to lay out the goold 
 when we have it in hand," suggested Aileen, 
 " though for the matther o' that we will be blind 
 wi' ould age when it comes. Ye can go to Aus- 
 tralia whinever ye mind. I'll not hinder ye. 
 I'll go wi' me Uncle Matt to America the while. 
 That's the counthree for me.." 
 
 " Will ye truly, acushla ? " 
 
 Dennis threw his old straw hat into the air and 
 cut out such a variety of new dancing steps in 
 his animated evolutions about the room that 
 Aileen paused in her work from sheer ad- 
 miration. 
 
 " I go with yees, Aileen. I'll be yer coom- 
 pany. It's better than Australia, a long way ; 
 and we'll not be parted aither. It's a fine plan 
 intirely ; good luck to it ! " 
 
 " Yes," said Aileen quietly. 
 
 " Say that ye' re glad o' the change that kapes
 
 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 297 
 
 us togither, mavourneen. Ye look so cool and 
 continted like it half angers me." 
 
 Aileen burst into a merry laugh. 
 
 " It's no good to be glad, Dennis," she said. 
 "Ye'll be flittin' again as soon as we're safe 
 landed ; there's no dependence on yer brave 
 plans, barrin' the worrit o' hearin' yees rin on. 
 Ye'll be off to Californy belike, or to the world's 
 ind." 
 
 "And if I do, Aileen, ye'll wait for me, 
 shure." 
 
 " I'll no promise you that. There's Mike 
 Phelan " 
 
 " The rusty ould pig that he is ! " interrupted 
 Dennis scornfully. 
 
 " And Terence" 
 
 " Ay the milk-and-wather laddie." 
 
 " And Pate Roan" 
 
 " Och, the mane red-head ! " 
 
 " I can pick from the three," said Aileen, 
 "and no fear o' drawin' a blank." 
 
 " Ye'll niver think of it," said Dennis, com- 
 ing close to her side and gazing earnestly down 
 into the clear blue eyes so honestly raised to 
 meet his. " Ye'll niver think of it, Aileen. So 
 as we have grown oop togither, so as we havo.
 
 298 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 
 
 danced at the fair and on the green, ye'll not 
 throw me over now." 
 
 " Not till we've tried America togither," she 
 replied. " But, Dennis, avick, can ye pony yer 
 passage money ? We'll be off Tuesday week, 
 and we sail wi' me uncle." 
 
 As Aileen expected, he had not thought of 
 this. 
 
 " But I can work me way," he said cheerily. 
 
 " I will pay it for ye, Dennis. Och, if ye 
 would but thry to steedy doon whin we get to 
 the new horrie it were a pleasure to start wi' ye. 
 But there's no trust to yees." 
 
 We will not stop to recount the fair prom- 
 ises of Dennis, or the fresh budding hopes of 
 Aileen. They were both founded in air, and 
 passed away like the fleecy clouds. He was 
 off to California, as Aileen had predicted, 
 within three months of his arrival at New 
 York, and she, with the slightest of hope in 
 his return, but with a heart brimming full of 
 love and vain regrets for his persistent way- 
 wardness, came with her uncle to live in New 
 Ireland. 
 
 For three long years she waited for him, and 
 then she married Mike Phelan, who had fol-
 
 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 299 
 
 lowed her to America. Mike was a kind hus- 
 band, and a steady, industrious man compared 
 with a majority of his countrymen, and Aileen 
 was, as she expressed it, " quite comfortable 
 like" while he lived. He died in the second 
 year of their marriage, before their only child, 
 golden-haired May, was old enough to lisp his 
 name or to understand her loss. After his 
 death Aileen opened what she called a "re- 
 spectable liquor shop," and as there were few 
 Irishmen hard-hearted enough to refuse to get 
 drunk for the benefit of the widow and orphan, 
 Aileen prospered finely till the war of the Re- 
 bellion broke out, and so raised the price of 
 ardent spirits as to destroy the profits of the 
 business. Nothing daunted, she at once sought 
 work as a day servant in American families, and 
 soon established an enviable reputation both for 
 neatness and quickness of execution. 
 
 Aileen is a devout Romanist more intelli- 
 gent than the majority of her fellow-worshipers, 
 for she can read and is fond of her book, but 
 as staunch a Catholic as the most ignorant and 
 bigoted. 
 
 " How can you pray to the Virgin ? " I asked 
 
 her one morning when she had been showing 
 20
 
 3OO Glimpses of our Lake Region. 
 
 me her pretty bedroom with its white curtains. 
 It looked very neat and inviting ; but I was 
 attracted by a small ivory crucifix in a frame 
 on the table, and a rosary hanging above it. 
 A picture of the Virgin and her babe was 
 tacked to the wall behind the cross, and, alto- 
 gether, Aileen's bedroom was a cozy little 
 shrine that reflected rather strongly upon our 
 more careless Protestant worship, if only the 
 outward show were considered. 
 
 " Arrah ! we niver does that," she replied to 
 my questioning. " It's a hiritic lie ye have 
 heard shure. We pray to God himself, and it's 
 the holy Maria as takes charge o' the prayer, 
 shure ; it's betther off in her pure hands than 
 in our wicked ones." 
 
 " But you confess your sins to the priest, 
 Aileen." 
 
 " There it cooms again. Whathever good 
 can come o' such lyin' ? Didn't God himself 
 give us the pastors and teachers r An how 
 can they lead us if we shut up our hearts from 
 their sight ? It's confessin* to God all the 
 same. O, thin," said Aileen earnestly, " ye've 
 surely more sinse than to belave that the praste 
 is our God."
 
 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 301 
 
 " Not exactly ; but his will is your law, and 
 his word is God's word to the most of you." 
 
 " Wherehever did yees get the quare notions ? 
 Ye should be a Catholic and judge for yerself. 
 Ye'd like it, shure ; and ye deserve a religion wi' 
 some'at to it. Ye'd be a saint, belike, wi' yer 
 fine warm heart and feelin' for the poor." 
 
 " Thank you for your good opinion. Do 
 you understand the service in your Church, 
 Aileen ? " 
 
 " As much as I nade of it, ma'am." 
 
 " And you really find comfort in your relig- 
 ion ? " I asked incredulously, struck for the hun- 
 dredth time by Aileen's cheerful contentment. 
 
 " Coomfort, ma'am ? An what would I do 
 without it ? It's a rare coward I am, and no 
 disputing it ; but when I kneel down at night 
 wi' lile May, and go from ind to ind o' the 
 rosary yon, we can crape into bed and slape 
 without fear. No harm on earth can coom to 
 us then. And so I just leave the door and 
 windows open for the air." 
 
 I questioned no further. How much of real 
 trust in God and faith in Christ may be hidden 
 by the outside trappings of Romanism I cannot 
 say, but I cannot find it in my heart to disturb
 
 3O2 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 
 
 Aileen's confidence in the heavenly watch-care. 
 I think the devout Catholic will stand a better 
 chance in God's great day than multitudes of 
 careless Protestants. Look at her. Day after 
 day she works steadily with her hands to secure 
 an honest living. Her little purse almost opens 
 of itself to relieve the needy. Her cheerful face 
 and obliging manners are a perpetual lesson of 
 contentment and kindness. She believes her 
 religion to be true, and she is never ashamed 
 of it. She carries it with her every- where. It 
 would be, indeed, a terrible storm which would 
 keep her from her place in the pubKc Sunday 
 worship. According to her knowledge she is 
 consistent. Alas, for the contrast with our 
 lazy Protestantism ! 
 
 Put her side by side with the fashionable 
 female leaders in your Church. It does not 
 matter to what sect you belong : you are so 
 unfortunate as to number among your reliable 
 " pillars " those who are also the props of 
 worldly fashion, and you have them in your 
 mental eye at this moment. Aileen has no 
 taste for the "gold and pearls, and costly ar- 
 ray" which, like a glittering sign-board, pro- 
 claim their hollow hypocrisy. The pride of
 
 Glimpes of our Lake Region. 303 
 
 position which inflates those poor perishing 
 worms of the dust, which asserts itself, even 
 in God's house, by the rustle of silk and the 
 sheen of diamonds, has never entered her 
 thoughts. The coolness with which they ignore 
 Christian duty, and their evident contempt for 
 those who painfully bear the cross of Christ, 
 would be incomprehensible to her. Indeed, 
 what mind can fathom the hypocrisy which, 
 serving only self and Mammon, puts on the 
 holy mantle of Christian profession and brings 
 its unsanctified offerings to the very altar of 
 the Highest ! 
 
 Good, honest-hearted Aileen ! Her clear 
 voice is at this moment trilling a cheerful 
 Irish ditty in our next neighbor's kitchen. 
 The cross children have gathered around her 
 wash-tub to listen, and the pale, tired mother 
 smiles to see the demon of ill-humor so easily 
 exorcised. 
 
 HINGHAM. 
 
 Our " lake region " presents a singularly wild 
 and unfinished appearance. It looks as if it 
 had been rained down upon the earth. Not in 
 a regular, orthodox, graduated storm, but in
 
 304 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 
 
 a helter-skelter summer shower a' shower of 
 great drops and little drops, of tornadoes., 
 and whirlwinds, and hard-knocking hailstones. 
 There is no order, no method about it. 
 
 A man wants a house, and straightway goes 
 out to choose the site thereof. The streets may 
 run any way they please all ways, if they like 
 for he does not take them into consideration. 
 When the house is built it will be time enough 
 to make a street to it. 
 
 The incongruity of a little cottage perched 
 upon a hill-top does not hinder his securing a 
 fine prospect, neither does it tempt him to 
 build a large house with as many mortgages as 
 piazzas. Very likely it fronts in a different 
 direction from any other house in the place, or 
 it may, without meaning offense, have brought 
 its outhouses almost into the front parlor win- 
 dows of a neighbor. 
 
 The great black forges and factories which, 
 from constitutional necessity, sit down in the 
 cool laps of crystal cascades, make a prominent 
 feature in the prospect. The fate which has 
 thus thrust them in among the dark leafage of 
 the primeval forest-trees along the river banks 
 gives them a picturesque aspect in spite of the
 
 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 305 
 
 long, red tongues of flame that gleam from the 
 furnace chimneys, and, on stormy nights, throw 
 a lurid light all over the village. 
 
 Our village is mostly used in summer for a 
 lodging-place. The inhabitants scatter off like 
 bees during the day, some to the neighboring 
 city, some to the splendid sea-beach at Hull, 
 and others, like eccentric comets, shooting out 
 every day into entirely new orbits. Like most 
 sensible people, we will eschew the cities and 
 the outside sweep of the comets, and spend the 
 afternoon's leisure in a drive to the beach. 
 
 We have the easiest of carriages, and a 
 horse which has one good trait and one not 
 so good ; he is quick to go and quick to stop. 
 After the latter trait has thrown us from our 
 seats and nearly dislocated our necks a few 
 times, we cease to believe in sudden stoppages 
 and devote ourselves to developing the other 
 characteristic. 
 
 We pass through the fine old town of Hing- 
 ham, and ride slowly so as to observe the elegant 
 houses and pleasantly-shaded streets. There is 
 an exclusive, aristocratic air about the whole 
 place, and the trim finish of every thing sug- 
 gests a comparison with our scrambling 'Make
 
 306 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 
 
 region." There are many objects of interest in 
 the place, and the experienced tourist in distant 
 lands might spend a pleasant week here, and 
 find in its living beauty and its perpetual re- 
 minders of the good old Pilgrim days a refresh- 
 ing alterative from stereotyped curiosities. 
 
 There is the old well-preserved church, the 
 oldest in New England, and -also in North 
 America, bidding fair to outlast the youngest 
 of its competitors. It is still a favorite temple 
 of worship, and as a memento of the past is 
 worthy the reverence and admiration it receives. 
 The square gray tower amid the great trees, 
 which are doubtless older than itself, involun- 
 tarily recalls our ideas of English rural scenery 
 and architecture, and so does the lovely burying- 
 place for the dead, which stretches over the hill 
 slopes and valleys in the rear of the church. 
 The inside of the church is, on a larger scale, 
 very like the Puritan churches which most New 
 Englanders in middle life can yet remember, 
 but which are nearly all removed to make way 
 for modern sanctuaries. This old church, stand- 
 ing so vigorously upon its ancient ground, seems 
 to have treasured up our whole childhood for 
 us There are myriads of precious associations
 
 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 307 
 
 nestled snugly under those bare huge rafters. 
 That perilous sounding-board is full of con- 
 densed childish awe and wonder. We go up 
 and down the intricate alleys and sit down to 
 think in the square pews whose latticed railing 
 makes a snug inclosure higher than our heads. 
 The high galleries and lofty pulpit are not so 
 far from us as they were thirty years ago ; but 
 the old enchantment of distance is not all lost 
 to our older vision. We think of the baby 
 forms that used to be softly lifted to those cor- 
 ner seats where they couldn't see the minister, 
 and we shut our eyes to watch the youthful 
 growth, then the maturity of human life, then 
 the half-unconscious travel down the slope of 
 time to the rest of the quiet graves so near us. 
 It doesn't require much fancy to catch 
 
 " Rustling along the sounding aisles 
 The measured tread of ages past." 
 
 But we must leave the old church. Further 
 on our way we come to a famous elm-tree, a 
 giant among its fellows, and we stop the car- 
 riage to examine it. It was transplanted from 
 England in 1729. It seems to have taken 
 kindly to the new soil and climate, and to have 
 made up its mind at the outset to outdo every
 
 308 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 
 
 thing American, and it has attained a growth 
 which its Yankee brethren have striven in vain 
 to emulate. It is not so graceful as the native 
 elm, but it has a rugged, haughty, defiant look, 
 a pompous, exclusive manner, which is very 
 characteristic. It is a grand-looking tree, and 
 we are willing to do it homage. 
 
 We are consoled for our voluntary humility 
 directly, for we come out all at once to an un- 
 broken view of the ocean. We have reached 
 the beach and we are ourselves again. There 
 is nothing in England nor anywhere else to 
 beat this. 
 
 The ocean is an old friend. It has not 
 changed, like every thing else that interested 
 us in childhood. Its voice has the same heavy, 
 murmurous undertone. The green waves, miles 
 and miles in length, their white crests gleam- 
 ing in long, foamy lines, come hurrying up and 
 break along the beach just as they have done 
 for thousands of years. The sea has never been 
 still. It tires us to think of its ages of unrest. 
 There has been a gale, and there are white caps 
 all over the distant harbor. At low tide a 
 white, hard beach stretches along for five miles, 
 making a ground for trotting horses. Ten car-
 
 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 309 
 
 riages abreast is the usual number. But we do 
 not care for horse-racing. 
 
 In the distance is Minot's Ledge, not yet 
 ready to succumb again to old Neptune, who 
 still carries on his vigorous siege. The break- 
 neck sort of recklessness with which the great 
 waves gather their strength and dash them- 
 selves into nonentity upon the rocky base of 
 the beacon almost frightens us. Their baffled 
 power and ferocious persistence assume a cer- 
 tain intelligence in our eyes, and human skill, 
 for the time, seems a frail reed to trust to. 
 There are several ships and smaller craft ap- 
 parently near the ledge, and just coming round 
 by the Boston light is a brig. They had better 
 be shy of coming this way. 
 
 Alas, how many times has this beautiful 
 beach been strewn with the spoils of the angry 
 deep ! There is a wreck here now. It lies on 
 the shore, an unsightly skeleton, all its grace 
 and beauty gone forever. It has not the sad in- 
 terest of many others, for the crew were saved. 
 
 We do not tire of the sublime view, but we 
 notice after a time that the day is not waiting 
 for us, and that we must, however reluctantly, 
 turn our faces homeward.
 
 3IO Glimpses of our Lake Region. 
 
 The evening boat for Boston is just leaving 
 the Hingham wharf as we come back to the 
 stately old town. We stop to watch its easy 
 march across the waters, and then, not yet tired 
 of our antiquarian researches, we drive briskly 
 away to look at an old bridge. It has a partic- 
 ular interest for us because it has always been 
 a toll-bridge and is to be free to-morrow. We 
 expect it will somehow put on a different look 
 now, a sort of independent bearing. But it don't. 
 It has the same old, stolid aspect. It is impos- 
 sible to ennoble many things besides human 
 nature ; and this bridge, which has been dis- 
 cussed and quarreled over enough to secure an 
 enviable notoriety, is the same stupid, wooden 
 concern that it ever was ; its manifest destiny, 
 to be trodden under foot of men. 
 
 But it isn't free yet, and an old man comes 
 slowly out to take the usual toll. How natural 
 he looks ! He is one of the landmarks of the 
 age. He came out just so twenty-five years 
 ago, and we asked him then, " How much ?" 
 
 " Ten cents." 
 
 Now we prolong the dialogue. " How long 
 have you kept this bridge ?" 
 
 " Forty-six years."
 
 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 3 r i 
 
 " And now it's going to be a free bridge ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " You will be lost without it. You will wake 
 up whenever a carriage rolls over it at night. 
 You will come out for the toll before you think." 
 
 " Well, I can't say about that. The bridge 
 is to be free, at any rate ; and there's going to 
 be a great celebration or something on account 
 of it. Processions, and music, and a dinner, I" 
 believe." 
 
 " Ah, I am sorry for it. It just breaks off an- 
 other link from the old times. I'd rather pay 
 the ten cents, just as my grandfather did." 
 
 The old bridge-keeper begins to yawn. He 
 has got up so often at night that he has lost 
 all the sentiment out of his soul, and, just as 
 likely as not, is thinking that it will not be dis- 
 agreeable to hug his warm pillow on a winter's 
 night instead of hurrying up to open the gate. 
 So we leave him, and, rumbling over the old 
 bridge, get up a poetic rapture over a shady, 
 green hill-slope and meadow, with demure sheep 
 and tricky, frolicsome lambs browsing upon the 
 juicy herbage. The sunset's crimson light gives 
 a rich coloring to every shrub and tree, and 
 duplicates itself in the shining pool of water at
 
 3 1 2 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 
 
 the foot of the hill. And this, with a score of 
 companion pictures, occupies us till we come 
 back with a hungry interest in tea, and bread, 
 and butter, to our own "lake region," with its 
 odds and ends, its strange contrasts and quaint 
 independence of bearing. 
 
 THE INDIAN HOUSE-ROCK AND AN IRISH WAKE. 
 
 There is a rough old rock on the southern 
 border of the lake which has its historic inter- 
 est. It is called the Indian House-Rock. In 
 the days of the old Indian wars, in those times 
 when King Philip, and Uncas, and Anawan 
 were famous and living celebrities, this was a 
 pleasant rendezvous for the red man. There 
 were then no settlements near to destroy the 
 wild beauty of God's own handiwork, and to 
 this day the immediate vicinity of the House- 
 . Rock is unchanged. 
 
 It was one of my favorite resorts in youth. 
 What wonderful dreams I used to have as I sat 
 by the water-side ! Idealized after my fashion, 
 there was nothing but poetry and freedom in 
 wild, savage life. At the east, where the slant- 
 ing sunset beams now fall across wide openings, 
 there was then a pathless wood. Every green
 
 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 3 1 3 
 
 nook was well peopled with strange fancies, 
 none of them probably so strange as the actual 
 insect and animal life which filled them, but 
 more suited to my ideas of what such a solitude 
 ought to be. They come back to my memory 
 like realities now. There was much that must 
 have been rather real then. 
 
 The old rock itself, with its mysterious cave 
 and long, dark entrance, its summit still black- 
 ened by the fires used in the preparation of 
 food, its sides almost hidden with its soft beryl- 
 ine curtain of mosses and ferns, with the olden 
 sunshine nestling among the feathery tufts of 
 drapery, is still unaltered, and stands a present 
 witness that there was some foundation to my 
 aerial superstructures. 
 
 There have never been such cloudless days in. 
 mature life as those half-dreamy young hours, 
 in which, without a thought of study or toil, 
 botanical wisdom came of its own accord to us, 
 and we began our life-long acquaintance with 
 the unspoiled part of God's creation. No one 
 interfered with our notions, and we built up 
 our own theories. The oven-bird repeated his 
 "chee, chee," close by our side, and the vireo 
 fairly boiled over with melody as it swung on
 
 314 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 
 
 the maple by its lace-covered, purse-shaped 
 nest. The white and black woodpecker tapped 
 away on the dead pine-tree as fearlessly as if 
 we had been a silent partner in the same firm, 
 and the partridge went into its little hollow 
 under a bush or a clump of furze, and laid its 
 egg without a pretense of secresy. Such pretty 
 cream-colored eggs ! 
 
 We attended the bird matinees for more than 
 one season, and would not have backed down 
 from our opinion as to the comparative merits 
 of the robin, blue-bird, bobolink, and thrush to 
 have accommodated Mozart himself. 
 
 I remember just where I found a ground- 
 sparrow's nest thirty years ago, and how star- 
 tled I was at first by the curious whirr of the 
 partridge from out the bush growth of the 
 thicket. Ah, hide away for a little time, dear 
 old memories ! 
 
 There was a wake last evening in New Ire- 
 land. Yesterday morning a strong man was lift- 
 ing some heavy weight and burst a blood-vessel. 
 He died in an hour from the hemorrhage. 
 
 For some reason death does not bring such 
 a gloom into an Irish community as into our 
 colder-blooded households. It seems an occa-
 
 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 3 1 5 
 
 sion of rejoicing rather than sorrow, and the 
 actual bereavement does not appear to be felt 
 till the dead friend is buried out of their sight. 
 We sent a messenger to ask if, without being 
 intrusive, we might come to the wake. 
 
 " Shure, thin, coom an welcome," was the 
 cordial reply. " It's as fine-looking a corpse as 
 you'll find anywhere." 
 
 That was true. He lay upon a white bed as 
 if in an easy slumber. His black full beard 
 contrasted well with the pale face, which had 
 not been wasted by disease. His shirt bosom 
 and collar were of snowy whiteness, and he 
 wore a long, brown Thibet robe, which covered 
 his feet and was trimmed around the border 
 and up the front with rosettes of ribbon. 
 
 There were twelve wax candles burning on a 
 table at his feet, and as many at the head of the 
 bed. By the side of the bed was a table, which 
 was furnished with a good supply of the indis- 
 pensable liquors, and with plates containing 
 cigars and also snuff. 
 
 The room was nearly full of people, all ap- 
 parently in the best of spirits, except when the 
 season for wailing alternated with the time for 
 
 refreshments. It is impossible to give an idea 
 21
 
 316 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 
 
 of this wailing to one who has never heard it. 
 Its unutterable woe goes to the very heart. Its 
 unintelligible words add to the effect, and the 
 strange, wild sounds thrill in the ear for days. 
 
 The still presence and rigid aspect of the 
 corpse does not inspire either awe or fear. On 
 this occasion the friends and acquaintances of 
 the deceased crowded up to the bedside as 
 familiarly as when those closed eyes and cold 
 lips smiled an answering greeting and shared in 
 the revelry. 
 
 "An how do ye like it, ma'am?" asked a 
 man who seemed to have charge of the festivi- 
 ties and to be rather proud of his position. 
 
 " I don't know what to think yet. We are 
 not used to seeing so little reverence on so sol- 
 emn an occasion." 
 
 "Ay, thin, it's some'at besides riverence that 
 is naded. We'd be loth to lave the poor fellow 
 to himself and he but jist dead aither. We 
 never shut one off in the dark like you Ameri- 
 cans do. Arrah, the cowld-hearted crathurs 
 ye are ! It's a lone road he's to thravel, puir 
 body, and it's only a kindness to kape within 
 call." 
 
 The candles are kept burning till the body is
 
 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 317 
 
 removed for burial, and are often carried to the 
 door of the hearse before being extinguished. 
 
 There is little need of describing an Irish 
 funeral. Every body has watched the seem- 
 ingly endless train of carriages, of every con- 
 ceivable kind, each crowded beyond all reck- 
 oning of its occupants. 
 
 The procession starts at first with tolerable 
 regularity, but is soon brought to a pause in 
 various parts of the line by objectless stoppages, 
 or is thrown into confusion by the interlocking 
 of wheels in the constant attempts to pass each 
 other, or by the sudden whim for walking a few 
 rods which seizes at odd times upon every man 
 and boy in the company. 
 
 An Irishman looks forward to his own funeral 
 as a sort of gala-day got up to honor him. The 
 knowledge that an imposing display will be 
 made nearly reconciles him to the after seclu- 
 sion of the burying-place. Shall I ever forget 
 how my well-meant condolence was received by 
 u bereaved widow on her return from her hus- 
 band's funeral. 
 
 " Faith, ma'am, it were an illigant time. 
 There were a plenty o' pipes and fine liquors ; 
 and did yees see the funeral itself? Thirty
 
 3 1 8 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 
 
 grand carriages, and no ind to the poorer sort 
 It were fit for-aking, and it seemed such a pity 
 that poor Jem could no' see it himself. It will 
 be mony a dee before it will be bate in these 
 parts, let alone the big sum to be paid for it all. 
 Ochone, Jemmy, avick, an' who'll do the like for 
 meself whin the time comes ? But it were a 
 fine sight, indade," she added, brightening up, 
 " and a funeral worth the having." 
 
 There is a curious scene enacted on the ar- 
 rival of the straggling funeral cortege at the 
 consecrated burial-place. The occupants of the 
 various vehicles scatter in all directions among 
 the graves, and, throwing themselves upon the 
 mounds which cover their lost friends, break out 
 into a general wail for the dead which exhausts 
 the whole gamut of agony. 
 
 Then the inevitable bottle makes its appear- 
 ance, and is circulated freely till the excitable 
 Irish brain loses its balance entirely, and the 
 " illigant funeral " results in a row, not to be 
 forgotten till broken noses are healed and broken 
 carriages and injured horses are paid for. But 
 an Irish quarrel or fight, no matter how curious, 
 never outlives the occasion, and by some unseen 
 providential guardianship is kept from serious
 
 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 3 1 9 
 
 results, broken heads being accounted trivial 
 matters in New Ireland. 
 
 OLD TIMES. 
 
 I hope I am not a croaker. I say not in my 
 heart that the former days were better than 
 these, but as my eye runs from range to range 
 of the pretty white cottages, and notes the more 
 imposing residences and public buildings before 
 me all of which are younger than myself I 
 confess that I should like to recall for a single 
 day the old scenes as they appeared to my 
 youth. Memory treasures them and reproduces 
 them at pleasure ; but I cannot thus exhibit 
 them to others, and a pleasure unshared is but 
 half enjoyed at the best. 
 
 There was a long street which ran through 
 the town from north to south. It was, and is, 
 five miles in length. The numerous streets 
 which branch from it now, and the pretty 
 squares where different roads meet, had never 
 been thought of then. I can fancy the indig- 
 nation of our stalwart farmers had a proposition 
 been made to them for streets across their 
 meadows, and for house-sites among the most 
 exclusive nooks in the broad pasture grounds.
 
 320 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 
 
 At each end of the long street was a reverend 
 old church, with pens for pews, with high un- 
 painted pulpit and galleries, with the tunnel- 
 shaped inverted echo suspended like grim fate 
 over the preacher's head, with great staring 
 windows without blinds, with side, back, and 
 front entrances, and the bell-rope hanging in 
 the middle of the church. 
 
 Both churches were literally running over 
 with doctrines. Half-way between the two was 
 the Haunted Rock, a huge black bowlder, which 
 stood apart from all other rocks, a self-appointed 
 guardian of the highway. It was an object of 
 superstitious fear to others besides children, 
 from the fact that a veritable ghost, wrapped in 
 a sheet, according to the prevailing fashion in 
 ghost-land, had been caught on it. Seen on it, 
 would, perhaps, be the proper expression, ghosts 
 not being " catchable." 
 
 The old churches have give'n place to a num- 
 ber of new ones, which, while agreeing in doc- 
 trine with the old and with each other, have 
 rounded off the unsightly angles with tasty 
 trimming, interpolating various little crotchets 
 and improvements suited to progressive people. 
 Underneath is the old foundation still ; the
 
 Glimpse.^ of our Lake Region. 321 
 
 rigorous old creed asserts itself as tenaciously 
 as ever ; but it is only at rare intervals that it 
 comes forth to the day, when the hammer of 
 some spiritual geologist rouses it. For the rest 
 of the old time, like a tired old bear, it content- 
 edly hibernates 
 
 The Haunted Rock how we used to hold 
 our breath and hug the opposite wall if caught 
 on the road near it at nightfall! has been 
 blown to pieces by vulgar gunpowder. It has 
 been put to several different uses, less poetical 
 than its former position as a ghost's pedestal, 
 such as walling fields and underpinning houses. 
 It is to be hoped that a separate ghost will be 
 furnished for every block of it till the perpe- 
 trators of the desecration shall be taught a 
 wholesome dread of things unseen. There were 
 curiously colored streaks running through the 
 rock real ghost tracks which would have 
 made a fine study for a geologist if the town 
 had owned one. But it irks me to think of a 
 set of unsentimental stone-cutters deliberately 
 drilling holes in the Haunted Rock and blowing 
 it up with gunpowder. 
 
 Up and down the long road were scatter- 
 ing dwelling-houses, sometimes two or three in
 
 322 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 
 
 a sociable group, but oftener a single farm-house 
 rejoicing in its cheerful solitude. Most of these 
 were one-story houses, with an honest contempt 
 for stairways, spreading themselves out upon 
 the ground to any convenient distance. They 
 were seldom painted, and when they were it 
 was not to make them more pleasant to the 
 eye, but to make the clapboards last. So the 
 homelier, substantial colors were chosen, and 
 dark-red or orange-colored houses, with white 
 trimmings, nestled in among the surrounding 
 fruit-trees as contentedly as if there were no 
 other colors in the universe. 
 
 The school-house was red, and hither came 
 all aspirants for knowledge, from the tow- 
 headed urchins who breathed inward male- 
 dictions upon the inventors of primers and 
 catechisms, to the great boys and girls who 
 came to school in winter and read, and spelled, 
 and ciphered, and recited abbreviations, till they 
 were old enough to be married ; the courtship 
 often being done up, to save time, during the 
 half-hour school recesses or the noon inter- 
 mission. 
 
 There was no difficulty in getting an educa- 
 tion then. Any body could do it. No one
 
 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 323 
 
 supposed it impossible to become learned in 
 one's own town, among one's own people. All 
 the modern fuss and worry about educating 
 young America would have been incomprehen- 
 sible to our sturdy farmers, and any unusual 
 scholarship unless a boy was to be a minis- 
 ter was a sign of " a weak spot somewhere." 
 It was not thought necessary to understand the 
 enginery of the spheres or the compounding of 
 a tornado in order to enable one to mind his 
 own business. Our brains, such as they were, 
 found ample space for development in the low, 
 red school-house. 
 
 Not far from the school was an apple-tree, 
 which all the urchins of my time will ever hold 
 in loving remembrance. There was a natural 
 seat in the fork of the tree, where we could sit 
 and leisurely regale ourselves upon the juicy, 
 scarlet-streaked fruit. Somebody owned the 
 tree according to law, but no boy or girl ever 
 believed in the ownership. There seemed to be 
 an instinctive faith that it belonged to the chil- 
 dren ; and as they were left in undisputed 
 possession of it, the owner propably had the 
 good sense, as well as the good nature, to accom- 
 modate himself to what was inevitable.
 
 324 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 
 
 There was a pear-tree down in the long 
 meadow which drooped heavily in the late au- 
 tumn beneath its weight of dark, mottled fruit. 
 That is standing yet, gnarled and broken by 
 time, but O what delicious pears it still gives 
 us ! 
 
 The apple-tree has gone with the old red 
 school-house, and a narrow, stuck-up two-story 
 brown house, with blue blinds and with a hedge 
 all around it, has pompously established itself 
 above the dear old dead roots. It has such an 
 uppish look that it tempts a person to knock it 
 down. It looks like an admiration-point set up 
 in the middle of a tea-tray. 
 
 Purple thistles, and wild thyme, and barber- 
 ries grew peaceably together in a little hollow 
 near the school-house ; and vigorous birch sap- 
 lings, with a sense of the disciplinary virtue of 
 their pliant twigs, obligingly took root by the 
 very door. 
 
 I remember running a race with a supposed 
 spirit round and round this hollow, one dusky 
 summer evening, after spending several hours 
 over a forbidden book full of the delicious hor- 
 rors of ghost literature. In vain I attempted 
 to beat a retreat or to execute a flank move-
 
 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 325 
 
 ment ; and it was only when, half dead with 
 terror, I sank exhausted on the ground, that the 
 spirit assumed the form of a playful black kit- 
 ten, which, not yet tired of the frolic, sculled up 
 the nearest tree with a "midnight cry." 
 
 It is like journeying through a familiar land 
 thus to go back into the past. It does not 
 weary us like a tour among new objects. Be- 
 sides, we can journey just when we please, and 
 when we stop to rest we are at home. Change 
 of place, travel, is often prescribed for the sor- 
 rowful, but it is only the light-hearted who 
 make journeying a pleasure. The heavy heart 
 cannot be left behind, and its grief colors every 
 thing. If there be rest anywhere on earth, it 
 is in the old "home paths." 
 
 I pity those who seek for friends outside the 
 tried home growth because other and more ele- 
 gant associations gratify a fastidious taste. The 
 disposition to aid us in need, to comfort us in 
 sorrow, will crop out from the rough and out- 
 wardly hard nature, and the toil-hardened hands 
 of those who fight life's battles are the soonest 
 stretched out to raise the fallen, to succor the 
 unhappy. The true friend who gives us an 
 occasional healthy snub for our own profit is
 
 326 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 
 
 not the person to listen smilingly while we are 
 slandered. It will require a bold tongue to de- 
 tract from our merits in his or her presence, 
 and the harsh voice softens to sweet music 
 when, in our extremity, it offers its uncouth 
 consolation. 
 
 I don't know what Solomon meant by say- 
 ing that the eye is never satisfied with seeing. 
 Perhaps he referred to his own eyes, and it was 
 doubtless true of them. There is an old man 
 living in a retired spot just beyond that long 
 belt of pines that serves as a dividing line be- 
 tween our town and the next in order. He has 
 lived all his life in the. same house, worked on 
 the same farm, done over and over and over 
 again the same things, and never was twenty 
 miles from home in his life. He is contented 
 with what he has seen, and is quite unwilling 
 to see any thing more. 
 
 Once, as a great favor to a friend of the 
 family, he did take a look at our lake Snoog's 
 Pond and it so appalled him by its size that 
 without waiting for his escort, he sought at once 
 the security of his home. 
 
 " I declare ! " said he, " what a sight of water 
 there is in the world ! "
 
 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 327 
 
 He went home satisfied with sight-seeing. 
 He sits by the wide fireside when his work is 
 done, and ponders his own perfections. He has 
 found out that a man is wonderfully made, 
 though he is not sure about a woman ; and his 
 wife, listening to his infidel opinions on the 
 subject, consoles herself by remembering that 
 the Bible says " all men are liars," and that " it 
 repented God that he made man." 
 
 " I don't wonder at it," remarked the good 
 woman. 
 
 The very air of the house has a self-satisfied, 
 conceited feeling about it, and you have a curi- 
 ous feeling that the quaint old furniture is just 
 going to crow. 
 
 There are souls which seem to us the most 
 wonderful of all achievements in the infinites- 
 imal line perfect bijous ! What would become 
 of them if God did not charge himself with the 
 care of little things." 
 
 It is pleasant to know that he is just as 
 truly active in the prolongation of insect life 
 as in the continuation of human existence, 
 and that the same skill which winds up the 
 machinery of a giant mind keeps the tiny 
 intellect ticking.
 
 328 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 
 
 Coming back from the past, I turn with fresh 
 interest to the present, and note its improve- 
 ments. There are many pretending places, 
 made popular by ephemeral fashion, that do not 
 begin to possess the natural attractions of our 
 " lake region." I think no tourist ever beheld 
 a more charming view than that now before 
 me. The hills wear such lovely shades of 
 green, and contrast so exquisitely with the 
 dark pyramidal firs which diversify their slopes, 
 and there is a pleasant, exhilarating light upon 
 the ocean. 
 
 Fort Warren, Castle Island, and the Island 
 Hospital are all distinctly defined in the clear 
 air, and seem to be our near neighbors. With 
 a glass of moderate power we bring them near 
 enough for a morning's call. Hush ! it is the 
 sea preaching its perpetual sermon. Its moral 
 is the restlessness of mankind. Its changeless- 
 ness or duration is a strong contrast to our 
 short life and certain decay. It speaks to us 
 of the infinite, of eternity. As we listen we 
 feel the hollowness of worldly pursuits and 
 fashions, and the mockery of earthly riches. 
 
 Such thoughts, too crude to be brought into 
 tangible form, used to fill my childish mind
 
 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 329 
 
 when, with my lap full of white shore pebbles 
 and colored shells, I used to listen to the surf 
 or strive to interpret the mysterious whispering 
 language of the shells. It required but little 
 imaginative power to idealize it all into spirit 
 utterances. 
 
 " Ah, azure sea, the ancient sea, 
 Blue sea, forever young i " 
 
 " IRELAND FOREVER." 
 
 Hark ! It is a strange clangor, unlike any 
 other sound in the known world. We turn 
 naturally, on hearing it, toward New Ireland 
 for an explanation. At first there is no visible 
 cause for the uproar, but we understand it all 
 directly. 
 
 Imprimis. There are two goats racing along 
 the south border of the lake, kicking up their 
 heels and shaking their horns in defiance of the 
 whole solar system. Close behind run two Irish 
 women, dressed with a wholesome disregard of 
 fashion as to the length and breadth of their 
 drapery. Shoeless, bonnetless, and sleeveless, 
 they are both intent upon one object, which is 
 to capture the foremost goat. 
 
 A medley of ragged women and children are 
 slowly following, and by degrees all of Ireland
 
 330 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 
 
 that is at home turns out to witness the sport. 
 It seems to be any thing but sport to the actors 
 in the little comedy. No sooner does one for- 
 tunate woman seize the goat by the horns, or 
 by the rope that depends from his neck, than 
 the other manages to free the animal by tear- 
 ing the hair of the captor, and scratching or 
 beating her till she is glad to relinquish her 
 prize and defend herself. 
 
 A babel of comment, both friendly and other- 
 wise, mingles with the loud and angry voices of 
 the disputants, and there are dogs barking, and an 
 occasional expression of sentiment from a little 
 coterie of law-and-order goats, who are watch- 
 ing the result from a convenient hill- top. 
 
 From the confusion, I gather that the two 
 women have been swapping goats, and that one 
 had repented of her bargain, while the other 
 obstinately adheres to it. Both claim the fore- 
 most goat and ignore the other, who, for the 
 time, belongs to nobody, but, like the apocry- 
 phal slave in Southern literature, is principled 
 against freedom, and shows his desire to be ap- 
 propriated by sticking to the company. 
 
 Differences of opinion now begin to circulate 
 freely among the spectators, and harsh words
 
 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 331 
 
 and angry gestures betray the birth of a legion 
 of separate squabbles, which directly begin to 
 take on a special prominence of their own. In 
 an incredibly short space of time the whole 
 population are engaged in a regular " shindy," 
 and one or two women, with dark, scowling 
 faces, and with stifling thick shawls thrown 
 over their heads, are seen stealing rapidly 
 down the river road toward the house of the 
 constable. 
 
 It is impossible to keep this proceeding se- 
 cret, and by the time the constable arrives with 
 his men and handcuffs every body has shaken 
 hands and become boisterously good-humored, 
 the stray women and goats have been reclaimed 
 from the hills, and a satisfactory compromise 
 effected over a mug of hot toddy. Indeed, the 
 whole community are ready to do the honors 
 of Ireland to the officers, who have so oblig- 
 ingly left all their own interests to look after 
 theirs. 
 
 It is easy to believe with Cervantes that 
 " every man is as God made him, and often- 
 times a great deal worse." 
 
 " An shure I'd walk me five miles ony time 
 to see a good fight. '
 
 332 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 
 
 So spoke our kitchen divinity, Bridget Ka- 
 trine, and I have no doubt that she told the 
 honest truth. There seems to be some indefin- 
 able enjoyment in fighting, and no one dis- 
 putes the Irishman's ability to get it out. No 
 other people will fight of their own accord 
 during the dog-days. They do not have to be 
 drafted into the service that is, in the home 
 department but they are always ready at a 
 moment's notice. 
 
 This was the laziest of summer mornings. 
 It broke over the hills with a promise of scorch- 
 ing heat and thunder episodes. It required 
 unusual energy to dress, and breakfasting was 
 not attempted. The bare effort to live seemed 
 all that human nature was capable of. Such a 
 languid, dead morning ! Such a hopeless stag- 
 nation of soul and body ! What power can 
 reanimate us ? 
 
 Hark ! a wild, ringing scream from the " lake 
 region ! " Dear Ireland forever ! Our hopes 
 revive at once. We know there is life some- 
 where. Like John's war-horse, we snuff the 
 battle from afar, and it is a comfort to know 
 that our inert lethargy is not the rule. 
 
 There have been five rows and two thunder-
 
 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 333 
 
 showers since morning. The air never was 
 sweeter. 
 
 " Teach us gently, father Time, 
 As we glide adown the stream." 
 
 As I muse upon the honest Irish nature, its 
 impulsive warmth and quickness to take offense, 
 I involuntarily repeat these lines of Barry Corn- 
 wall. For, joined to all this warmth, is an ele- 
 ment of youth and freshness, a sort of verdancy, 
 which contrasts refreshingly with the studied 
 decorum and heartless propriety of artificial 
 life. 
 
 The Irish songs are nearly as inspiring as 
 their fights. They do not sadden and subdue 
 your spirits like the plaintive Scotch airs ; they 
 are dashing, bouncing, rollicking melodies, with 
 big, hearty choruses, albeit the humor is often 
 too coarse for refined ears. 
 
 I cannot help respecting the women of New 
 Ireland whether they are drunk or sober. They 
 are the soul of enterprise. All the gardens are 
 planted by them, and they put to shame the 
 tilling of our masculines. They have early 
 vegetables about the time that our tardy seeds 
 push their two first leaves above the surface of 
 tue ground. They thus get the start of the
 
 331- Glimpses of our Lake Region. 
 
 various bugs, which are all full grown and 
 have attained the sharpest-set appetites by the 
 time our tender shoots are juicy enough to be 
 palatable. 
 
 They do not often plow the soil, but go over 
 it laboriously with a spade. The fatigue is not 
 thought of. No one knows better than an Irish 
 woman how to 
 
 " Help gar the boatie row 
 And lichten a' the care." 
 
 What she lacks in grace she makes up in 
 robust vigor, which is by far the most useful in 
 her sphere. Our sense of the beautiful may 
 revolt, but our common sense is attracted. If 
 we take her as she is, with her rough surround- 
 ings and enforced ignorance, with her natural 
 affinity for dirt, and pigs, and unnumbered 
 babies, we shall find much to respect in the 
 zealous effort and muscular activity which 
 pushes ori her little vessel and keeps it abreast 
 of its fellows. 
 
 She does not seem to expect much of her 
 husband, and it would be a blessing if many 
 American wives could adopt her philosophical 
 theory. He is a subordinate character in her 
 establishment If he behaves well, and brings
 
 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 335 
 
 home a part of his earnings, instead of spending 
 it all for liquor, she is mindful of the circum- 
 stance, and considers it rather a help to her 
 than otherwise ; but she is able to push her 
 boat along without his aid and with his dead 
 weight in it. She is perfectly independent ; 
 there are none more so. 
 
 Occasionally we find touches of refinement 
 among these women. A desire for knowledge 
 and an attempt at neatness will sometimes crop 
 out from the hard soil and by persistent growth 
 become beautiful. They remind one of the blue 
 campanula growing upon the rocky steep. 
 
 Aileen is one of these. No palace boudoir 
 was ever cleaner than her little kitchen. A 
 spray of sweet-brier hangs across the win- 
 dow, and in the strip of rich loam by the door 
 are marigolds, hollyhocks, pinks, and forget- 
 me-nots. I have seen many a beautiful gar- 
 den, rich with carnations, camelias, purple 
 wall-flowers, pansies, and the rarest of roses ; 
 but the humbler flowers of Aileen have each 
 their lessons, and no one can tell the value 
 of their silent sermons in the heart of New 
 Ireland. 
 
 Her child, the golden-haired May, is herself
 
 336 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 
 
 a flower an unpretending lily from the wild- 
 wood. I often stop to rest in Aileen's room 
 when fatigued with walking. 
 
 "I wonder that you have never married 
 again," I said to her one morning. 
 
 She was sitting by a frame, quilting a silk 
 cradle covering for a rich lady. 
 
 " O, thin, I should be blate to do that," she 
 answered. " It would be good-bye foriver to 
 pace an enjoyment. It would be rags for me- 
 self an li'le May, an the bit cabin would be as 
 dirthy as yon." 
 
 She pointed contemptuously into the open 
 door of the opposite hut, where a big, lazy 
 man lay on t}ie floor, smoking contentedly, and 
 a room full of dirty babies were tumbling over 
 each other. 
 
 " O no, Aileen," I said, " it could not be so 
 bad as that. You would keep any place tidy 
 where you are." 
 
 " It would not pay, ma'am. I'm me own wom- 
 an now. I goes out when I plaze, an coom 
 in the same. It's many a chance I get," said 
 Aileen, with a touch of pardonable vanity, " but 
 I'll no' marry again: I'm ower keen for that." 
 
 " But what if some wonderful turn of good
 
 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 337 
 
 fortune should send your old lover, Dennis 
 Maylan, back to you ? What then, Aileen ? " 
 
 " O, thin, that is past hopin' for. Belike he's 
 married long ago, barrin' he's not dead, which 
 were as bad to think of." 
 
 " But if he should come back, and should be 
 rich too ?" I persisted. 
 
 " He'd not look at me thin, shure." 
 
 " You think he might not forgive you for not 
 waiting for him." 
 
 " Arrah, no, indade. He's no fool. Whath- 
 ever could he expect? No, ma'am, he's not 
 that onrasonable, not he. But it's oulder I've 
 grown, an sthouter as well, an the roses have 
 gone from me cheeks." 
 
 " I think you could charm him yet, Aileen." 
 
 " Indade, an I could. Shure no one but me 
 knows the way to his heart. But I'd scorn to 
 trap him wi' widowy devices. Ochone, Dennis, 
 avick, where have ye got to, mavourneen ? " ex- 
 claimed Aileen, pushing back the frame as she 
 spoke, and giving way to a passionate burst of 
 tears. I was truly sorry for having awakened 
 such emotions, and I expressed my sorrow for 
 my apparent heartlessness. 
 
 " Niver mind it, ma'am. Niver you care.
 
 338 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 
 
 It's nothing new. It cooms over me often. 
 Even when Mike was living I could not be 
 quite free from it. He was such a handsome 
 laddie, was Dennis, an an he loved me so 
 much. There, it's all gone noo," said Ailcen, 
 smiling brightly through her tears ; " an will ye 
 plaze look at this pattern ? " 
 
 It was a vine, and was to be quilted with crim- 
 son and black upon the blue ground of the silk. 
 
 " Is it not a beauty ? " 
 
 " Yes ; too beautiful for the use it will be put 
 to. It wont take long to spoil it." 
 
 " She'll be wanting anither thin. The spoil- 
 in' will bring grist to my mill, so I'll not wape 
 for its loss. It's leddies like her as makes work 
 for poor paple." 
 
 I thanked Aileen for the new view of fine 
 ladyism which dignified it as a necessary evil. 
 " You are right, Aileen. I see it now. The 
 extravagance of the few puts honest bread into 
 the mouths of the many." 
 
 " An did yees niver mind that before ? " 
 asked Aileen, her eyes opening very wide in 
 wonder at my obtuseness. " Whathever did ye 
 suppose the fine, useless paple were kept alive 
 for?"
 
 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 339 
 
 " I don't think I ever reasoned about it at 
 all." 
 
 " But ye know that sorra a bit o' good cooms 
 o' their living, barrin' the business they give 
 us ? " 
 
 "Yes, Aileen, I knew that. But I did not 
 know they were created for that purpose." 
 
 " Shure they were. An the finer they dress, 
 an the more illigant they live, the more work 
 they make. They're naded ivery-where, wi' 
 their pride an quare notions, an their flitting 
 from one fancy to another. Don't you see ?" 
 
 " Yes. Thank you for explaining what has 
 often puzzled me. I have often heard that God 
 made nothing in vain, and I am glad to know 
 the use of fashionable people. What do you do 
 for neighbors, Aileen ? " 
 
 " Neighbors, is it ? They're ower plenty on 
 all sides. I'd like a lone wilderness for a 
 change ; but I maun live near me worruk." 
 
 " But you seem to have no intimate friends ; 
 none like yourself, I mean." 
 
 "Then you've never seen Kate Carrol an 
 Margaret Lillendall ? " 
 
 " No. Where do they live ? " 
 
 " Just over the wather. Do ye see that big
 
 340 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 
 
 rock, all covered with frostleen an ivy, that 
 pushes itself out over the pond ? " 
 
 Yes, I see the rock." 
 
 " Look just above where the goats are feed- 
 ing. There's a boat with a flag on it on the 
 shore near by. Do you mind ? " 
 
 " Yes ; I see the boat and the goats." 
 
 " It's but a step down the path beyond. I 
 row meself and li'le May across often of an 
 evening whin me work is done. They live in a 
 cottage togither. It's worth going to see of 
 itself, with its trees an its flowers. It rests me 
 to go there. An there is me friends, ma'am 
 friends to be proud of, an to love .for iver an 
 iver." 
 
 There is something touching in the tried 
 friendship of earnest women wherever it may 
 show itself. True, unselfish friendships exist 
 sometimes between men and women, but not 
 often, because the more egotistical masculine 
 nature has to be toned down to a certain point 
 before it can reciprocate the purity and self- 
 forgetfulness of real womanhood. And so it 
 seldom happens that the sexes meet on a moral 
 level. Ah, if men could but believe in the hon- 
 est friendship, and even genuine affection, that
 
 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 34 1 
 
 looks not beyond a sisterly expression of inter- 
 est ! Their strange infidelity shuts off from 
 them the enjoyment of one of the purest of 
 life's pleasures. 
 
 DARK DAYS. 
 
 Most people know what is meant by dark 
 days. Not cloudy days, when the physical sun 
 is hidden from our sight, but days of doubt and 
 gloom, when every thing is out of its place and 
 *ivery body looks miserable. Perhaps this view 
 of things cannot be helped ; the misanthropy 
 may be involuntary, or it may be induced by 
 unhappy circumstances which we cannot con- 
 trol or by bodily indisposition. 
 
 We may not be able to explain our condition ; 
 ;ndeed, we seldom try to do that ; but we either 
 sit down sullenly to endure our trouble, or else 
 go steadily to work to make others as wretched 
 as we are ourselves. 
 
 I had endured in silence, perhaps sullenly, a 
 week of dark days. There was not a bright 
 spot in all the world, scarcely in heaven. The 
 nights long, sleepless, weary nights were 
 more gloomy than the days. Ah, I said, it is a 
 sad thing to live just for one's self, to have no
 
 342 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 
 
 chosen one to pray for, to be solitary in the 
 midst of a crowd ; and this dark, hopeless des- 
 tiny has Death wrought for me. 
 
 A dream roused me. The best beloved came 
 to me in my sleep and unfolded a glimpse of the 
 limitless future. All life's darkness melted away 
 in the sublime presence of God's hereafter. It 
 may be that our dreams are the real part of our 
 lives, the fragments of our spiritual existence, 
 the only part which is able to reach out and take 
 hold of eternity. 
 
 In the morning I read of that kind-hearted, 
 solitary woman, the mother Denis of Emile 
 Louvestre. " Left by herself in the battle of 
 life, she makes good her humble place in it by 
 working, singing, helping others, and leaving the 
 rest to God." I understood that to make others 
 happy gives one heart to live. 
 
 Outside my window the birds were singing, 
 and the air was soft with the breath of honey- 
 suckles and musk-roses. A little lame girl went 
 by, hopping along on one foot with the aid of 
 crutches. She looked up and nodded her head, 
 and smiled brightly as she caught a paper of 
 bonbons which were thrown to her from a window 
 below me. She is hopelessly deformed, and is
 
 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 343 
 
 very seldom able to venture on the street. How 
 her cheerfulness rebuked me ! At the bottom 
 of the valley, in that long green house with 
 gables, a pale, slender woman toils for the main- 
 tenance of five children. She is not a widow, 
 but bears a heavier sorrow. She is a deserted 
 wife. Her little Aelise is dying slowly of con- 
 sumption, and yesterday her oldest boy was 
 brought home with a broken leg. The baby is 
 blind. Not a murmur crosses her lips. Pa- 
 tiently, almost cheerfully, she bows her head to 
 the baptism of sorrow. I cannot choose but 
 be ashamed of my gloom and sadness, but they 
 will not be shaken off. 
 
 The post brings me a letter. It has its 
 strong words of sympathy and encouragement, 
 its gentle reproof for sinful despondency. It 
 counsels work steady, absorbing work work 
 for the Master, who "will not leave us com- 
 fortless." 
 
 Then I go out and listen to a sad, sad story. 
 O, what a pity that it should be true ! Two 
 years ago there was not a happier family in all 
 the country than Edgar Green's. His wife was 
 a most amiable and intelligent woman, and their 
 only son was a fine, energetic ycuth of twenty.
 
 344 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 
 
 Mrs. Green's father, to whom she was strongly 
 attached, lived with them. 
 
 When Arthur enlisted for a soldier, it was 
 hard for the parents to submit and give him 
 up ; but they were patriots, and the country 
 needed him, and so he went not forth without a 
 blessing. 
 
 Four months ago the old father sickened and 
 died. The husband and wife bore this sorrow 
 together. 
 
 Three weeks ago the husband was walking 
 slowly down the street when he met a baby-girl, 
 the daughter of a friend, who was being drawn 
 in a little chaise by her nurse. Stooping to kiss 
 the child, he suddenly fell forward in a fit and 
 was taken up dead. All night long the stricken 
 wife lay in a deathlike swoon, only reviving at 
 intervals sufficiently to understand what had 
 happened, but utterly unable to take home to 
 herself the fatal truth. Then came a wild, in- 
 tense longing to behold her son. 
 
 " He is all I have," she said over and over 
 again ; " surely he must come home." 
 
 To-day, in the list of the casualties of war, 
 we read, " Arthur L. Green, killed." 
 
 Ah, who will tell the mother ?
 
 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 345 
 
 I go back to my room full of remorseful pen- 
 itence for my unthankful misanthropy, which, 
 however, still clings to me. 
 
 It is one of the most beautiful mornings of 
 summer. The grass in the meadows is rippled 
 into sunny waves of green by the bold wind, 
 the cattle are deep in the mysteries of clover 
 rations, and changing shadows dance in and out 
 of the little hollows where blue, truant violets 
 yet linger. Far away, over the hills, a fleecy 
 haze hides the line of the horizon and curtains 
 the sea. 
 
 The people are crowding to the house of God. 
 A soldier has been brought home dead to his 
 mother, and the funeral services are to be held 
 to-day. Almost every week some of our best 
 and dearest are reported among the killed in 
 battle. In nearly every house there is mourn- 
 ing. In the aristocratic mansion and in the 
 low cottage there are breaking hearts which, 
 for the time, refuse to be comforted. 
 
 The days of the mourner are long, long and 
 sad ; but God is merciful, the night is waiting, 
 peace and rest are waiting, love and joy and the 
 fruition of hope are waiting just ahead. 
 
 This little life is passing swiftly ; the eternal
 
 346 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 
 
 day is already dawning upon the mountains. 
 As we go forward toward it we cannot quite 
 help the tugging at the heart-strings, the yearn- 
 ing of the spirit for the loved and lost The 
 whole world is a blank, and the burden of the 
 old song will come at times : 
 
 " I'm aweary, aweary. 
 I would that I were dead." 
 
 Only at times, because the sublime truths of 
 God remain, and we have faith in the glorious 
 future. And so we accept the brief probation 
 of earthly life, and thank God for the discipline 
 which purifies and ennobles. 
 
 Not that we ever forget the dead. They have 
 the same hold on our affections as when they 
 are living in our midst. True love cannot die. 
 Its origin is divine, its strength immortal. It 
 stretches into eternity, where alone it can find 
 its full development. Its essence is spiritual, 
 and nothing earthly can counterfeit it. 
 
 Yet God pity the poor mother who bends to- 
 day over the open grave of her son ! In the 
 gathering crowd there are many mournful eyes 
 that have no more power to brighten with joy, 
 that well over with kind sympathy, that will 
 share if they cannot lighten the burden of sorrow.
 
 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 347 
 
 A narrow river runs like a thread of silver 
 across the meadows, and winds about the hills 
 till it reaches the ea. On its banks, hedged 
 by willows, is the village cemetery. There was 
 never a lovelier place set apart for the dead. 
 It is a succession of gentle hill-slopes and quiet 
 dells, and the very air seems to breathe repose. 
 Those I have loved are resting there, awaiting 
 a joyful resurrection. God has them in his 
 keeping. 
 
 Along the valleys and up the hills the south 
 wind brings the dirge for the dead. Its music 
 swells up from the hearts as well as the voices 
 of the crowd, for the young soldier belonged to 
 us all. 
 
 Alas, how often do those sad notes fall upon 
 our ears ! Three times within a fortnight have 
 we paid the last tribute of respect to dear ones 
 who have died for their country. We will keep 
 their memories green, and our regrets and 
 our reverence for their heroism shall be their 
 epitaph. 
 
 Dark days cannot be brightened, the heavy 
 heart cannot be eased by thus contemplating 
 the sorrows of others. The shadows deepen 
 
 rather than disappear, and it is but a seffish 
 23
 
 348 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 
 
 sort of consolation to feel that others are worse 
 off than ourselves. It is scarcely a Christian's 
 kind of gratitude to thank God that we are not 
 as other men are. A great part of the melan- 
 choly in the world is sinful despondency. We 
 hold the remedy in our own hands, but are too 
 lazy to apply it. We sit down drearily in a 
 corner, and brood over our trials, and hug 
 closely the demons that torment us, till nothing 
 but a herculean effort can shake off the Atlan- 
 tean load of depression. And all the time, just 
 over the way, or down the street, are missions 
 of mercy awaiting Christian effort, with the cer- 
 tainty that our little acts of kindness will react 
 upon our own hearts and restore the vanished 
 sunlight. 
 
 Get out into God's sunshine, pale, pining mis- 
 anthrope ! Put your shoulder to the burden 
 beneath which your neighbor is sinking. Do 
 not fear to lift heartily while. God strengthens 
 you. It is much easier to do great things than 
 little ones ; but it is the quiet, unpretending 
 ministry which is sweetest to the helped and to 
 the helper. Our pride desires rather to 
 
 "Serve God much, 
 Than to please him perfectly >."
 
 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 349 
 
 MUSIC OF OUR "LAKE REGION." 
 
 No one ever disputes that our town's people 
 are musical people, or that music is the alpha 
 and omega of all our enterprises. The curious 
 stranger cannot get rid of the impression that 
 in some remote period of the good old colony 
 times the place was settled by a company of 
 cornets, harps, sackbuts, psalteries, dulcimers, 
 and all kinds of music. 
 
 Every child born here has a talent for music 
 born in him ; it is inherent, like depravity. All 
 other questions, even the war interests, and the 
 election of the government officers, are obliged 
 to succumb and be as nothing in the presence 
 of this potent monopolizer. We could get along 
 without being governed, without paying taxes 
 to restrict our own comforts, without having 
 the laws changed at our expense every congres- 
 sional term, but we could not do without our 
 arias, quartettes, and choruses, or the wondrous 
 mechanism of our instrumental performances. 
 
 In our churches it has been understood, from 
 time immemorial, that all the other parts of 
 the Sunday service are subordinate to the or- 
 chestral display, and no quarrel in any of our
 
 350 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 
 
 religious societies, no matter how serious, is 
 considered legitimate unless it originates in the 
 choir. Indeed, the singing gallery may fitly be 
 compared to a mammoth brewery, inasmuch 
 as a generous provision of infinitesimal huffs, 
 miffs, and squabbles are there fermented and 
 bottled up for preservation, and a good assort- 
 ment thereof is constantly on hand, orders from 
 any distance being filled with most agreeable 
 dispatch. 
 
 Clergymen from other towns, who occasion- 
 ally exchange pulpits with our pastors, are 
 awkwardly embarrassed by finding themselves 
 of no account in the sanctuary, and a painful, 
 stammering hesitation attacks the extempora- 
 neous speaker when he finds that his pet ser- 
 mon is only endured, and that the audience are 
 impatiently awaiting his last sentence, that they 
 may give themselves up to the enjoyment of the 
 closing anthem. 
 
 No funeral would be complete without sing- 
 ing, and it is not unusual for a circle of trained 
 warblers to surround the grave and get off a 
 final combination of musical noises as a farewell 
 salute to the departed. When the music is 
 well chosen, and the occasion one of general
 
 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 3 5 i 
 
 interest, this last custom has a beautiful and 
 soothing effect, and we recognize the divine 
 power of sacred melody. 
 
 My pen pauses while I endeavor to sort out 
 and set by themselves the various harmonies 
 now being performed in my immediate neigh- 
 borhood. First, in the parlor below me, a fine 
 tenor voice is singing a song to a piano accom- 
 paniment. I just catch the refrain, " Hark ! I 
 hear an angel sing." To the compauy in the 
 parlor, who hear it by itself, it is doubtless very 
 sweet ; but just across the way are two fiddles 
 and a flute in full blast. A lad on the bridge is 
 making his first attempt with a French horn. 
 He seems, judging from the effect, to fill the 
 instrument uncomfortably full of music before 
 letting any off, and the pent-up sounds, when 
 they do get a chance to escape, come dashing 
 out without any attempt at order. A solitary 
 violoncello is groaning by itself in the next 
 house ; and from a little further down the 
 street we get occasional touches of a sprightly 
 waltz, which is being done conjointly by a fid- 
 dle and a piano. 
 
 A young boy sits in the lighted upper win- 
 dow of another house, on the opposite side of
 
 352 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 
 
 the street, after the fashion of Eutychus, ex- 
 hibiting such a power of shrill whistle in his 
 endeavors to render " John Brown " vigorously 
 that we can scarcely help the amiable wish to 
 see him further imitate the famous sleeper by 
 falling to the ground. Ringing out above all, the 
 cracked bell of the town clock is snappishly in- 
 sisting that it is fourteen o'clock instead of ten, 
 as my watch indicates. Shutting the windows 
 to exclude a part of the concert, I sit down 
 again to my desk, and catch myself humming 
 snatches of old songs and marches as my pen 
 tracks the paper before me. 
 
 There is a great deal about music, modern 
 music, which puzzles me. I do not compre- 
 hend it. The sublime " harmony of discords " 
 has no meaning for me. When other more for- 
 tunate people, who have kept up with the 
 times, applaud and encore, I shrink back into 
 the shade. I have a curious, unpleasant feel- 
 ing that the lavish encomiums are not sincere ; 
 and though it would be sad to lose faith in the 
 truthfulness of our associates, there is always a 
 hope down in the depths of the heart that they 
 do like real music, and find its modern counter- 
 feit a bore. It seems quite impossible that any
 
 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 353 
 
 one can be educated so far away from what is 
 natural as to relish such artificial and aggra- 
 vating entertainments, though we see that other 
 morbid appetites, equally incomprehensible, are 
 common. Ah, well ! the standard of music in 
 heaven was fixed long ago, before the advent 
 of the late improvements, when " the morning 
 stars sang together, and all the sons of God 
 shouted for joy." None of these operatic em- 
 bellishments will ever jar upon our ears in the 
 " land of the blest," whatever immortality they 
 may secure in the lower regions. 
 
 Not a great while ago I was invited to hear 
 a difficult piece of music performed on the 
 piano. The young lady player had been care- 
 fully trained at great expense, and could almost, 
 it was said, " do the impossible." As nothing 
 but kindness was intended in inviting me, I 
 could not refuse to listen ; but, as a slight in- 
 demnification, I stipulated that when the grand 
 action should be over, I should be indulged 
 with a favorite song. 
 
 To all the complicated tremolas, turnings, 
 and pedal crashings I listened patiently, man- 
 aging to abstract my attention from them by 
 repeating to myself psalms and hymns and the
 
 354 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 
 
 multiplication table backward, till I was so lit- 
 tle disturbed by the noise as to be able to carry 
 on a regular and connected train of thought. 
 
 How long it lasted I cannot tell ; but all at 
 once, without the least warning, the young lady 
 straightened herself stiffly, threw back her head, 
 rolled up her eyes, and gave vent to a succes- 
 sion of the jnost dismal shrieks that I ever 
 heard. I involuntarily sprang to her assist- 
 ance, not a little surprised that no one else ex- 
 hibited any sympathy for her, or any disposition 
 to aid her. Ah ! what a relief it was, in spite 
 of my shame and the singer's vexation, to find 
 that what I had mistaken for a fit was only 
 the effort to oblige me by singing my favorite 
 song ! And I, stupid, had not recognized a 
 note or a word of it. 
 
 They tell me that my taste is at fault, that I 
 need cultivation, that no one in a state of na- 
 ture likes the higher style of music, etc. I 
 hear the thrush and the robin trilling their old 
 exquisite melodies, and I know that none of 
 these popular false chords finds a place in the 
 great anthem of nature. 
 
 How can I look out upon the sapphire sea, 
 flashing in the golden light of the sunset, or
 
 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 355 
 
 raise my eyes to the profound blue solitudes of 
 the skies, or' reflect upon the infinite motion 
 and perfect harmony of the heavenly bodies, 
 and then deliberately fill the soft air with dis- 
 cordant croakings ? 
 
 An Italian street-singer and organ-grinder 
 came with his wife and sang just under my 
 window this morning. He is a Genoese, she 
 from the island of Ischia. It was music, sim- 
 ple but real music, so I gladly ran down stairs 
 to thank and remunerate them. I could not 
 make them understand me. They knew so lit- 
 tle English, and I so little Italian I could only 
 recall one phrase, "Felice notte" which they 
 seemed to resent, for they shouldered their 
 packs and were off at once, instead of singing 
 more, as I hoped they would. 
 
 Down by the railway I yesterday passed a 
 little tent, the temporary home of some wan- 
 dering Indians. Two girls were singing over 
 their work, but they stopped when they saw a 
 stranger, and no persuasion could induce them 
 to go on. The little that I heard made me 
 think of the wind sighing in the forest, and 
 wailing down the stony ravines before a storm. 
 It was wild and shrill, like the Shaker singing.
 
 356 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 
 
 Perhaps the Shakers borrowed their style from 
 the Indians. I waited to look at their deli- 
 cately plaited basket-work. The rushes were 
 dyed with soft colors, and ingeniously twisted 
 into a beautiful pattern. But I could get no 
 more music. 
 
 Hush! From the adjoining room comes to 
 me the sweet voice of a little child who is kneel- 
 ing beside his mother and repeating the prayer, 
 " Our Father," which is never old. As I listen 
 I understand, but cannot explain what is meant 
 by true music heart music. 
 
 MATTIE KANNARY. 
 
 Imagine a great, staring, red brick house, 
 without blinds to the windows, and not a tree 
 or bush growing near it for shade It is the 
 Magrath House, once a hotel, but now the home 
 of seventeen Irish families. In a little attic 
 chamber of this crowded hive lives a poor friend 
 of mine, Mattie Kannary. She is sixty years 
 old, and her hands are so swollen with rheuma- 
 tism as to be nearly useless. When I am in- 
 clined to murmur at God's providential dealings 
 I go for a cure to old Mattie's room. 
 
 She has not a relative in the world, unless a
 
 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 357 
 
 brother, who emigrated to the far West twenty- 
 five years ago, should still be living. This is 
 scarcely probable, for it is sixteen years since 
 he has been heard from. I have written at odd 
 times half a score of letters at Mattie's dictation 
 in the vain hope of getting some information 
 in regard to him. 
 
 How Mattie lives puzzles me often. She has 
 no money and no visible means of support, and 
 it is now two years since she has been able 
 to work. She is wholly dependent upon the 
 charity and kind offices of others ; but she al- 
 ways has just enough for present need, and is 
 never troubled about the future. 
 
 Every body likes her. It is a pleasure, after 
 traversing the long, dirty halls and taking in all 
 the odious sights, and smells, and noises of the 
 great house, to come to her neat, quiet room 
 and sit down by the little window, which is high 
 enough to secure fresh air. It is like getting 
 into a new world, the contrast is so great. 
 
 In the winter-time I like to sit down cozily 
 by the old-fashioned stove and talk with Mattie. 
 The real desolation of her lot does me good, 
 because she is so unconscious of it, so hopeful, 
 and so thoroughly contented. It puts me in
 
 358 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 
 
 good humor with all the world the heartless, 
 deceitful world, which puts on an honest, well- 
 meaning look when seen from her stand-point. 
 
 It was the last evening of the old year when 
 she told me her simple life history. I had been 
 repeating aloud, though it was for my own edi- 
 fication rather than hers, some lines which had 
 haunted me all day. 
 
 " Old year, you must not go ; 
 
 So long as you have been with us, 
 Such joy as you have seen with us, 
 Old year, you shall not go. 
 
 " Old year, you shall not die ; 
 
 We did so laugh and cry with you, 
 I've half a mind to die with you, 
 Old year, if you must die." 
 
 "Ah, shure, that is the fine poetry, ma'am," 
 said Mattie, who had listeried admiringly to 
 my recitation. " Perhaps it's a bit o' yer own 
 makin?" 
 
 " O, no ; I couldn't write any thing half so 
 sweet to save my life. It was written by Ten- 
 nyson, a poet who belongs to your side of the 
 water." 
 
 "An Irishman ?" she asked eagerly. 
 
 "No; I suppose he is English. But such 
 poets belong to the world, Mattie."
 
 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 359 
 
 Mattie's interest subsided at once. She does 
 not like the English, and has little reverence 
 for English genius. 
 
 . "Tell me about yourself, Mattie," I said. 
 " I want to forget the old year and all its 
 memories." 
 
 " It's little I can tell yees, ma'am. It's a 
 lowly road I've thraveled all me days, whether 
 in America or in me own land over the sea, 
 it were the same ivery-where ; niver far oop, 
 though often well-to-do, and niver forsaken, as 
 ye see for yerself." 
 
 " Tell me all you can remember, Mattie. I 
 shall be interested, I know." 
 
 " Ye'll think betther o' it, shure, before I get 
 far in me story, but I can stop whin ye likes ; 
 only yees will promise not to let me rin on an 
 ye' re weary." 
 
 " Yes, I promise." 
 
 " I don't remimber whin I was born," began 
 Mattie, soberly, " but it was in the city of Dub- 
 liru We moved into the counthree whin I was 
 a wake old, and I have no idea o' the place to 
 give you, for I was niver within forty miles o' 
 it afterward, and I was over young to fix it 
 in me mind then. My father was bred in the
 
 360 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 
 
 counthree, and the open fields and bit cabins 
 were one and all like home to him ; but me 
 mother were city born, and she were, like a bird 
 trapped after it is grown, too old to be tamed? 
 She niver got used to the new life, but jist sat 
 down and fretted all the rest o' her days. 
 
 " She had six children beside meself, all boys. 
 They are all dead togither, barrin' Phelan at 
 the West, and there's small trust in him now. 
 One by one the lads dropped off till half o' the 
 six were gone, and thin, whin I were just turned 
 o' twelve, me mother died. In less than a year 
 me father was laid by her side, and all the 
 money he left was spent in holy masses for 
 them all. 
 
 " It were a lucky chance or a providence," 
 said Mattie, " that the boys were mostly 
 gone before their father, for it was as much, 
 and more too, as Ted and Phil could do to 
 kape themselves till the next Christmas, when 
 Teddy died o' the fever and left us two by 
 ourselves." 
 
 " How old was Phelan ? " 
 
 " Nearly fifteen years, ma'am, but looking all 
 of five years oulder. A great, stout laddie, wi' 
 the beard already coom to his lips and cheek."
 
 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 361 
 
 " What did you do ? Had you no relatives 
 or friends to care for you ?" 
 
 " We had no relatives ; leastways none came 
 near us, which is the same thing. But we had 
 friends on all sides. Too many, for aich o' the 
 lot were hill o' kind counsels, but no two o' 
 them had the same opinion. We couldn't heed 
 all, so we jist took counsel wi' aich other. We 
 did what we thought was best ; we jist broke 
 oop the ould home and wint out to service. 
 Patsey M'Shale, who lived near the town, took 
 me at first to rin o' errands and mind the baby, 
 and it was there I learned the nice laundry 
 work which has been me thrade iver since. 
 She was a frind indade, ma'am." 
 
 " Yes," I replied, " a true friend, for she 
 made you independent and self-reliant." 
 
 "Whin I knew the business well," Mattie 
 continued, " she got me a place near Limerick 
 in a nobleman's house. I thought me fortune 
 was made, shure. The young leddies were not 
 afraid to put the most delicate work into me 
 hands. Arrah, if ye could but have seen the 
 illigant laces and muslins, and the fine, rich 
 work on them all ! It was a pleasure to do it. 
 It were against nature to help loving my young
 
 362 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 
 
 misthresses. I cannot describe them for yees ; 
 there's nothing in America to compare wi' 
 them, the swate-spoken beauties ! There were 
 three of them, and aich handsomer than the 
 others. One of them is a countess, and the 
 others married into the proud English families 
 who used to spind a part of aich year at the 
 Hall. I had lived there three years," said 
 Mattie, lowering her voice almost to a whis- 
 per, " whin I had a lover meself. It may seem 
 a small matther to you, ma'am, but that is the 
 time of all me life which kapes its coolers 
 aye brightest. I sit here alone of a winter's 
 evening and live it over and over again, an 
 niver am tired o' the thinkin' and remimberin'. 
 I shut me eyes, and there he sits. We are 
 back again in the wide kitchen, an I hear his 
 pleasant voice a-joking wi' the cook and the 
 housemaid, and, though he says but little to me 
 or I to him, I catch the sly, lovin' smiles and 
 glints o' the eye. There were niver such eyes 
 before. Bright as the very stars, and honest as 
 well, and shinin' wi' sinse an good-humor, the 
 fine laddie ! An ye'll bring me that little tin 
 box from the shelf yon I'll show ye a bit o' his 
 hair."
 
 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 363 
 
 I brought the box, and tried to open it for 
 her ; but she was not willing that any hands 
 but her own should touch the contents, so I laid 
 it in her lap after springing the lock. 
 
 " There ! " 
 
 She held up a thick curl of bright, brownish- 
 red hair. It shook in her trembling fingers, 
 and changed its hue in the light of the near 
 candle till it seemed to me, as well as to Mattie, 
 like a living presence. 
 
 " It is, indeed, very beautiful," I replied to her 
 look of inquiry. 
 
 " Yes, ye may weel say that. I've seen many 
 a fine head o' hair since then," said Mattie, re- 
 placing the curl in the box, "but nothin' like 
 that, nothin' like that. Forty years ago ! Me 
 own hair was bright thin." 
 
 " Forty years is a long time to look back 
 upon." 
 
 " Is it ? It seems like a drame. I was just 
 twenty whin he left me to make a home for us 
 both in America. Ochone ! the dark day it 
 was ! But not so dark as it would have been 
 had I known thin that I was niver to look on 
 him more." 
 
 "O Mattie! Then you did not marry him, 
 24
 
 364 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 
 
 after all. Poor Mattie ! " I said pityingly, for 
 the slow, scant tears of age and spent sorrow 
 were coursing down her cheek. 
 
 " He had been gone a year," she went on 
 presently, " whin me masther one day brought 
 me a letther. It begged me to coom to Amer- 
 ica at once, where was a nice, comfortable 
 home all in waitin' for me. The money for 
 the passage over was in it, and enough to pay 
 for me brother Phil too, for he could not bear 
 me to journey alone, and he could not lave to 
 fetch me himself. 
 
 " In a little time we were on the sea, and I 
 counted ivery day that brought me nearer to 
 him. Arrah, the hiven that New York looked 
 in the distance ! Me home was there the 
 home o' me heart. Whin we reached the long 
 wharf, and came to a stop at last, there was no 
 one to meet us. Me heart begun to sink ; but I 
 would not borrow trouble. ' It's all right, Phil/ 
 I said, ' the fair winds have brought us before 
 the time.' 
 
 " I knew betther, and so did Phil, for we were 
 days behind time wi' the conthrary winds. I 
 would not wait on board for Phil to look him 
 up. ' No,' I said, ' we'll go together.'
 
 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 365 
 
 " It were asy to find where he had been liv- 
 in' ; but whin we asked for himself, no one 
 would answer at all. It were a kind of office, 
 and there were three or four gentlemen wait- 
 ing, an they looked first at us and thin at 
 aich other ; but no one spake. At last one of 
 them came and sat down by me, and took me 
 by the hand. No need to tell me then. 
 
 " ' He was expecting you/ he said. 
 
 " ' Yes, I know.' 
 
 " ' His place is left all furnished for you.' 
 
 " ' Yes.' The room began to look dark, but 
 I held on to his hand. 
 
 " ' He took the fever a fortnight . Jim, 
 bring a glass of wine ! ' he called out to a lad 
 near us. He made me drink the wine, and 
 then he said, ' He was buried yesterday. We 
 tried hard to save him, but care and skill could 
 not keep him. You were never out of his 
 mind. His last words were, " Mattie, darling." 
 There, don't be ashamed to cry ; it will do you 
 i^ood,' said the kind gentleman. He was cry- 
 in' himself, and Phil took me in his arms and 
 sobbed like a child." 
 
 Mattie could not control her voice to go on 
 with her story. It was a new revelation of her
 
 366 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 
 
 ^character to me. I understood now what had 
 made it easy for her to accept her lot of obscure 
 poverty. She looked at it in contrast with this 
 life-sorrow. 
 
 " I canna tell yees," said Mattie at last, " what 
 a sad cooming home it was. There was the new 
 furniture, and all sorts o' odd little contrevances 
 for convanience, and even his own new clothes 
 laid ready for the weddin' that was niver to 
 coom on earth. But he, the charm o' it all, was 
 gone foriver. Forty years ago the thirteenth o' 
 June ! " 
 
 " Did you stay there, Mattie ? " 
 
 " Nigh on to four years. Then Phil got mar- 
 ried, and went to the West. I would not go wi' 
 him, though he begged me wi' tears. ' No, no, 
 Phil, don't ask me,' I said ; ' I canna lave his 
 grave. Let me stay where he is sleepin.' So 
 I was left by meself. But I could not live 
 alone. I gave up the house, and went to live as 
 a laundress in the family of Mr. Lincoln. He 
 was the gentleman who was so kind whin me 
 throuble came. 
 
 " I stayed there five years. Then the family 
 went South to live, to Mississippi, where Mrs. 
 Lincoln belonged. She had a plantation there.
 
 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 367 
 
 I could not go wi' them," said Mattie, proudly, 
 " to be a white slave among niggers. It's plinty 
 irksome to serve wi' your own color and nation, 
 the low Irish in particular; but I canna bide 
 niggers at any price. So I stayed in New York, 
 rented a room, and kept entirely to meself for a 
 time." 
 
 "Well, Mattie?" 
 
 A light broke over her face as she laughed 
 merrily. All this time there had been scarcely 
 a trace of the Irish brogue, or the national pecuU 
 iarities of expression ; but she seemed to change 
 all over as she looked up to answer me. 
 
 " What happened next, Mattie ? " 
 
 " Och, ma'am, it were a fool's deed next, for 
 shure. There was Pathrick Kannary, the big, 
 lumpy, freckled gossoon, wi' niver a house to his 
 head, or a penny in his purse, wi' no stock on 
 airth barrin' laziness an good temper ; wi' his 
 pipe niver out o' his mouth save whin atin' or 
 dhrinkin'. He came to me room on a Sunday 
 afther the mass, an' asked me to marry him. 
 Arrah, the impidence of the crathur ! " 
 
 " But you didn't, surely," I said, quite un- 
 able to connect such want of forethought with 
 Mattie.
 
 368 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 
 
 " Ay, but I did, thin. Isn't me name Kan- 
 nary ? It were the big folly o' me life, shure ; 
 but I did it all the same. Ye will mind as I was 
 all alone in the world, and that lonesome that I 
 could ha' worshiped a dummy an it had thruly 
 cared for me. I was a woman, an ye need not 
 be tould what a woman's life is without some'at 
 to cling to. Anythin' were better than that 
 yearnin', afther a fellow-feeling, that cravin' for 
 somethin' for the heart to coom home to. So I 
 married Pathrick Kannary." 
 
 " Did he work for you, Mattie ? " I asked, 
 rather doubtfully. 
 
 " Well, as to that, I worked for him. I didn't 
 mind it. I was strong, and used to the toilin' 
 an managin', an it was asy enow to kape all 
 snoog and above board. It'll seem strange to 
 you, ma'am, but, indade, I were happier now 
 than I had been for long years. I had an ob- 
 ject to live for, an it brought me contint at laste. 
 Me lot was o' me own makin', were it betther 
 or worse, and there were little sinse in fret tin'." 
 
 "And Patrick?" 
 
 " O, thin, Pathrick were like a gintleman born. 
 He gave up both worruk and care, and was the 
 invy o' all his comrades. The world wint fair
 
 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 369 
 
 and smooth wi' him, wi' niver a hitch in the 
 machinery. Ye may take me word, ma'am, that 
 he niver repinted his bargin." 
 
 " I should think not," I responded, not relish- 
 ing the sacrifice of a woman like Mattie upon 
 the altar of masculine selfishness. " Did you 
 love him ? " I asked presently. 
 
 " Love him ! Ochone ! Niver. How can ye 
 ask that ? Me heart was in the grave wi' me 
 ain laddie. That were the thrue marriage be- 
 fore God ; this was jist a matther of convani- 
 ence. Don't you see ? " 
 
 " Then you don't believe in second mar- 
 
 riages 
 
 " Not whin the heart finds its mate in the 
 first. There's mony a weddin' o' souls that 
 niver is known on earth, an they are the thrue 
 marriages accordin' to my thinkin' ; but thou- 
 sands and thousands are livin' to-day like 
 Pathrick and me did, married by the laws o' 
 the land, but niver mated in hiven. The thrue 
 love cooms but once, shure." 
 
 " How long did Patrick live ? " 
 
 " I canna say. He's livin' yet, for all I 
 know. It was Catherine Murphy, an a rale 
 beauty she was, an a bould girl as well, that
 
 370 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 
 
 come between us. Ye'll mind that Pat, like 
 mony anither, liked to brag o' his riches. 
 Nothin' could bate his big notions, an he 
 aired them ivery-where. And Kate Murphy 
 belaved it were all Scripture. Thin she were 
 taken with his perliteness and his fine clothes, 
 so she kept hangin' aboot the place till she 
 wiled him away. She was soon tired o' him, for 
 the money gave out, an she would not worruk 
 for herself, lettin' alone workin' for him. So he 
 came back to me." 
 
 " Mattie, you did not take him again ! " I 
 remonstrated. 
 
 " No," said Mattie, slowly. " I'm not clare 
 now whether it were my duty ; but I tould 
 him plainly that it were all over. I used to 
 see him on the street, looking shabby and 
 miserable enough, and twice he was bastely 
 drunk. He was poor enough to have roused 
 me pity for him ; but I knew he could work, 
 an I niver took him home. You see the love 
 in me heart was wantin', and that made all the 
 difference in the world." 
 
 " What did you do next ? Live alone ? " 
 
 " Well, I got me fine character as a laundress 
 from some o' the first citv ladies, and thin I
 
 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 371 
 
 sold out me furniture and came here. I always 
 prospered. I expected to. Paple build oop 
 their own hinderances, I take it. I was coom- 
 fortable till me hands give out, but they're 
 gettin' well again, ma'am." 
 
 This was a standing fiction which Mattie 
 had persisted in believing from the commence- 
 ment of her illness, and no one disputed the 
 point with her. 
 
 " I'll soon be able to look out for meself," 
 said Mattie, brightly. " God knows what is 
 best. I'm contint to lave it wi' him. At the 
 worst, it is only the almshouse, an that is fine 
 Jivin' in America." 
 
 " We shall not let you try it," I said. 
 
 Mattie laughed cheerfully. " It were sinful 
 to fret about it, ma'am. So as the good God 
 has kept me all my days I'll not doubt him 
 now. He'll lead me gently down the few 
 more steps to the bottom of the hill. I'm 
 rontint." 
 
 I am afraid I envied Mattie. The little close 
 room, the scanty furniture, the lack of future 
 provision, the painful, swollen hands, the deso- 
 late old age, were all glorified by her simple 
 trust in God.
 
 372 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 
 
 1 had left her and blundered my way down 
 to the ground floor, when a door suddenly 
 opened and I saw " big Kathleen," the largest 
 and strongest Irishwoman that I ever saw, in 
 the act of disciplining her husband, who had 
 come home drunk. I saluted her, but she was 
 too angry to respond to my greeting. 
 
 "I'll tache yees, ye ould hound, to coom 
 home like a baste to yer supper." 
 
 Kathleen shook him up and down as if he 
 were scarcely a feather's weight in her hands. 
 
 "It's a faste ye'll be losin', alannah." 
 
 He was just drunk enough to be contrary, 
 so he staggered to the table and began to help 
 himself in spite of her. I glanced at the 
 " faste." There were boiled potatoes mashed 
 with their jackets on and saturated with sour 
 milk. But the offending husband was not des- 
 tined to partake of it, for "big Kathleen," 
 irritated beyond endurance by his unexpected 
 opposition, seized him by his coat collar and 
 the waistband of his trowsers and actually 
 pitched him head foremost over the stairs into 
 the open yard below. He was not hurt Irish- 
 men seldom are though the fall partially 
 sobered him.
 
 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 373 
 
 Try it again, Mike," called his wife from 
 above. " Coom, lad, there's plinty more, an ye 
 like it. It's free as hiven's brazes for yees." 
 
 Mike showed no disposition to avail himself 
 of the offered provision, but sat on the ground 
 stupidly staring about him. A number of 
 people were grouped upon the lower landing, 
 attracted by the noise, and Kathleen's prow- 
 ess was applauded uproariously. I was glad 
 to get out into the quiet street and hasten 
 homeward. 
 
 THE OLD BROWN HOUSE. 
 
 A glance along the hill-sides and down the 
 valleys reveals to us, scattered here and there, 
 the yet lingering dwellings of the old inhabit- 
 ants. Over them all, to my eye, lies a heavy 
 shadow. They are not desolate, but more 
 crowded than of old, with every room full of 
 noisy life, yet they belong to my past, and the 
 careless tread and boisterous laugh seem like 
 desecration. Those who were born and grew 
 up beneath the roof-tree are all gone, and 
 strangers sit down under the shade of the old 
 trees without a thought of the hands which so 
 long ago planted them.
 
 374 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 
 
 Some of these old houses are scarcely habit- 
 able, others are better preserved, though the 
 missing window-panes or the puttied cracks of 
 the glass that remains foreshadow the coming 
 ruin. 
 
 There is no tenant in the old brown house 
 where my grandfather lived and died, where his 
 children were reared, and where his noisy 
 grandchildren came with their sports and 
 schemes, sure of loving encouragement in them 
 all. Old age has a closer sympathy with child- 
 hood than with mature life. It has patience 
 with its capricious foibles, an interest in its 
 most unreasonable gratifications. Every child 
 understands this if he is not so poor as to have 
 no grandparents. The mere babe will tottle by 
 its mother to its grandmamma's arms, as if it 
 has a wish to express of questionable utility. 
 The mother who disciplined her own children 
 perfectly is blind to the grandchild's dimpled 
 hand which ravages her sugar-bowl. And so it 
 generally is true that there is no place so invit- 
 ing, so every way attractive to the young, as the 
 old-fashioned homes of their grandparents. 
 
 I am glad that my grandfather's old house is 
 uninhabited. I can go over it and recall the
 
 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 375 
 
 
 
 past without observation. The somber, ancient 
 furniture has been removed, but I know where 
 the high-backed chairs and long tables used to 
 stand against the wall, and just how the round 
 light-stand, with its three carved legs and its 
 furnishing of Bible, Psalm-book, almanac, news- 
 paper, and spectacles, filled up the warm corner 
 by the south window. 
 
 The window-seats, so deep and large that 
 half a dozen flaxen-headed urchins used to 
 crowd into one for an evening hour's story- 
 telling or riddle-guessing, are as pleasant as 
 ever. Childhood comes back, all the eventful 
 intervening years vanish at once as we sit down 
 in the familiar place. Ah, why did those dear, 
 cozy window-seats go out of fashion ? There 
 has been no substitute for them furnished by 
 modern improvements. 
 
 Children are now cheated out of half the 
 pleasures which legitimately belong to early 
 life. What they are going to do for childish 
 memories when they come to middle life no one 
 pretends to say. It will be dreary to look back 
 upon a silent, barren wilderness where there 
 should have been fresh, immortal flowers, and 
 glad, spontaneous music.
 
 376 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 
 
 Croaking is but a poor business at best. It 
 does not pay even when it deals in truth ; but, 
 sitting in this dear old house, the mind and 
 heart too will go back to the days when chil- 
 dren were possible, before miniature men and 
 women in the nursery were thought desirable, 
 when the occasional bold utterances of a pre- 
 cocious youngster were overlooked as harmless 
 impertinences instead of being printed. 
 
 The maturity of modern babies would have 
 been thought a decided inconvenience by those 
 who believed with King Solomon in the occa- 
 sional application of the rod. We can imagine 
 the picture of insulted dignity and outraged 
 honor which a three-year-old urchin would now 
 present if corporeal punishment were offered to 
 him ever so delicately. 
 
 It was different then. The romps, and plays, 
 and roguish tricks of youth were wholesomely 
 flavored by discipline, and the grateful tingling 
 remembrance of its efficacy in restoring good 
 temper is not the least precious of our memo- 
 ries. We escaped a world of trouble by being 
 born before the restraints of embroidery and 
 ruffling, or the wearing of long hair in hot, 
 twisted divisions, so as to imitate natural ring-
 
 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 377 
 
 lets, were tolerated. Is it not a pitiful sight 
 to behold a well-disposed child, that would be 
 natural if it could, obliged all through the dog- 
 days to sport those uncomfortable, meager 
 proxies for curls without an idea of why it 
 suffers ? 
 
 O the sweet, glad freedom of old-fashioned 
 childhood ! It is worth living over. It went 
 out with the old window-seats. No one knows 
 the name of the bold reformer who first at- 
 tempted to improve upon the beautiful arrange- 
 ment of the Almighty so as to omit childhood 
 from human life, but he was not a benefactor to 
 his race. 
 
 There are strange things always coming to 
 pass. Most wonderful is the progress of the 
 times. But to one whose tired feet halt in 
 the rear, whose weary eyes delight in familiar 
 scenes, whose aching heart hoards its beautiful 
 memories as golden treasures, the strange acts 
 and wise plans of faster people often seem such 
 prodigious freaks. 
 
 Diamonds cannot buy the fair pictures which 
 grace for me every room of the old house, or 
 purchase my childish right in the circuitous, 
 dark stairway, and the thick cobwebs, full of
 
 3/8 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 
 
 dead flies, which curtain the garret windows. 
 The doors of the quaint little cupboards stand 
 half open. The dainty china cups and saucers, 
 small enough for a play-house now, and the 
 bright teapot and silver spoons, are all removed, 
 but in my mind I range them upon the narrow 
 shelves in the old order and overlook the empty 
 space. 
 
 There is no portrait of my grandfather as I 
 remember him. He was eighty-four years old 
 when he died, but his teeth were white and 
 even, and his black hair flowed over his neck 
 like a girl's. I used to think he was the hand- 
 somest old man in the world. Well he might 
 be, for personal beauty has found no place 
 among his descendants, and there is less and 
 less prospect of it as the generations succeed 
 each other. 
 
 All the children in the region knew and 
 loved the fine old man. He was never happier 
 than when surrounded by a noisy group of 
 them, each good-humoredly contending for the 
 privilege of ransacking his capacious pockets 
 and bringing to light the rosy-cheeked apples 
 and stray pennies which were always stored 
 there for the encouragement of those young
 
 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 379 
 
 pickpockets. In the summer evenings he would 
 sit in his great arm-chair by the open door, 
 and watch our frolics upon the green grass or 
 our tumbles among the new-made hay. At a 
 little distance was the family tomb. A pleas- 
 ant, quiet spot to rest in," the old man said. 
 He is sleeping there now, and I, sitting in the 
 old door-way, repeat the words heartily which 
 sounded so gloomy and strange then. Yes, 
 " a pleasant, quiet spot to rest in." It is easy to 
 understand now how one who is tired of the 
 battle of life may hopefully anticipate its close 
 while cheerfully enduring its crosses. 
 
 As I dreamily note the unaltered features in 
 the prospect, what figure is it that comes flit- 
 ting out of the past and trips softly up the 
 sloping path by the old well-curb ? delicate 
 in form, graceful in motion, fragile as a reed in 
 appearance till you behold the might of un- 
 selfish love which brightens her face, beautiful 
 with the immortal grace of spiritual loveliness, 
 never growing older, but cherishing as a sacred 
 trust from God the freshness and sympathy 
 of the heart. It is my mother. It is six years 
 since she left us, since she was born to eternal 
 life in the home of the angels. A solitary 
 25
 
 380 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 
 
 whip poor-will comes and sings on the flat rock 
 close by. Not the real bird, who used to sad- 
 den us with its monotone, but a bird from Jhe 
 shadowy land where the past is garnered. A 
 kitten playfully mounts to the top of the long 
 well-sweep ; a host of dead old tabbies come 
 trooping back to displace her. A black cow 
 pauses to crop the rank grass by the gate. 
 She is no relation to the old black cow who 
 used to chase us down the long lane to the 
 distant pasture. That cross old cow! She 
 managed to make a mark in the old world so as 
 to secure a remembrance. Her docile compeers 
 are forgotten. No one can tell whether they 
 gave good milk or poor, or even whether a 
 post-mortem examination pronounced their 
 beef eatable ; but that crabbed, selfish, diso- 
 bliging old black cow, with every variety of 
 hooking and kicking powers fully developed, 
 gave the richest of milk in bountiful profusion, 
 and furnished the dairy's pride of golden 
 butter. 
 
 O for some spell to put on the old brown 
 house and its surroundings some power to 
 hinder their certain decay ! There is moss on 
 the roof and on the lilac-trees, and the un-
 
 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 381 
 
 trained roses are dying out by the door. The 
 swallows build their nests and rear their young 
 in the wide chimney as of old, and as I sit 
 down on the dark-red settle by the hearth and 
 listen to their homely chirping, the old home 
 place is no longer empty. Every room is 
 thronged. The faces so tenderly loved smile 
 on me again ; the hushed voices of the buried 
 years are no longer silent. 
 
 From the window I glanee down the wide 
 meadow-land. Beyond is the wood rich groves 
 of pine, and maple, and ash, full of labyrinthine 
 paths, and gray rocks, and bright openings. 
 Across the meadow gurgles a cool spring of 
 clear water. I have lived to know that the 
 green stones at the bottom are not emeralds. 
 There is nothing striking in the view. Taken 
 as a whole, it would be a tame landscape to 
 the indifferent eye, but it is holy ground to me, 
 changed as much of it is. 
 
 It is pleasant to look upward, where there is 
 no change. The blue skies do not grow old. 
 and the stars are as bright to us as they were 
 to Adam and Eve in Paradise. The sun and 
 moon pursue their steady course across the 
 heavens just as they did then. The various
 
 382 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 
 
 convulsions of nature and the art of man have 
 united to change the configuration of the earth, 
 but the heavens remain, and to all generations 
 declare the glory of God and show forth his 
 handiwork. 
 
 WITCHES. 
 
 Like every other part of New England, our 
 " lake region " has its historic ghosts and 
 legends of veritable witches. The latter mar- 
 vels have not yet wholly leaped into the past, 
 though witchcraft must have either gone out 
 of fashion or changed its aspect in most places. 
 There are persons yet living along the outskirts 
 of modern society who have had enough trouble 
 with the old-time witches to satisfy a regiment 
 of unbelievers. 
 
 Over by Hurlbut's Hollow, just beyond that 
 gigantic black rock which poises itself over the 
 road and threatens destruction to the traveler, 
 is an old farm-house which seems to have been 
 a favorite theater for witch operations. It 
 stands back from the road in a narrow green 
 dell, through which runs a small spring of clear 
 water, O, so deliciously cool in the sultry sum- 
 mer days ! Every youngster who goes huckle- 
 berrying in August in the pastures beyond
 
 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 383 
 
 knows the way to that spring, and knows, too, the 
 kindly old lady who sallies forth from the house 
 with a pitcher of molasses to sweeten the limpid 
 beverage and " keep it from hurting the chil- 
 dren." There are very few boys and girls who 
 do not relish the improved beverage. 
 
 This old lady can tell us about the witches 
 if any body can. She early learned to meas- 
 ure her cunning with theirs, and also the best 
 way to manage those who could not be got rid 
 of. She has had her hands " about full of busi- 
 ness " a good many times, but, like a true 
 warrior, she likes to fight her battles over 
 again. She attributes her unvarying successes 
 in dealing with witches to her courage. She 
 is still a fearless-looking person, and might be 
 taken for a witch herself if we did not know 
 better. Let me describe her : A little dried- 
 up, wiry old woman, as spry as a girl, though 
 she must be very old. I think she cannot 
 weigh more than eighty pounds. Her short, 
 scant skirt and blue sack cling closely to her 
 petite figure, and make her look much smaller 
 than she would if she were dressed like other 
 old women. Her hair is gray, and she wears 
 over it a high-crowned, wide-bordered muslin
 
 384 Glimpses of our Lake Region, 
 
 cap, starched stiffly, and standing up like a tall 
 helmet. Thus oddly toupeed, her tiny, pinched 
 face, with the long, hooked nose and peaked 
 chin nearly meeting over the toothless mouth, 
 presents a ludicrous picture as to size and gen- 
 eral outline. 
 
 The only large thing about her is her voice. 
 It is loud and full, and rings out with a mas- 
 culine power which startles you, coming as it 
 does from so spirituelle a subject. She is very 
 sociable. She will talk and laugh with herself 
 by the hour rather than be silent. All her 
 thinking is done with her tongue at the full 
 wag. I have seen persons in various places 
 who resembled her in this respect, though they 
 belong to the present, while she just lingers to 
 represent the past. The style of mind is the 
 same, and the thinking of about the same 
 quality. 
 
 There is nothing about the old lady more 
 interesting than her unquestioning faith in 
 ghosts and witches. Witches take the pre- 
 cedence. That is natural. You can't mix up 
 ghosts with the every-day affairs of life as 
 you can witches. They are a different order 
 of beings, with more dignitv, more exclusive-
 
 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 385 
 
 ness. The old lady has often "hearn tell" 
 about ghosts, but she knows about witches, and 
 if a person can't stand upon their own experi- 
 ence, where can they find a foundation ? 
 
 "There are people," she tells us, " who don't 
 believe in witches. I hope you are not one of 
 them." 
 
 " I ? There have been no witches in our 
 neighborhood, you know. I have had no 
 means of making up a correct opinion on the 
 subject." 
 
 " Sure enough ! I might have known that. 
 Perhaps you don't care to be convinced." 
 
 " O yes ! I like to know what to believe." 
 
 " Well, then, you just sit down in that low 
 chair, and I'll tell you some things I know. 
 Not that chair ; take the cushioned one, the 
 rocking chair. So you've brought your knit- 
 ting. Wait till I get mine, and we'll just settle 
 down for the evening. We wont go in very 
 deep. It would scare you to death if I should 
 tell you some things. But I'll tell you about 
 old Manti Fulleston." 
 
 " The very old lady over to Rocky Lane ? " I 
 asked her. 
 
 " Yes ; do you know her ? "
 
 386 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 
 
 " No ; I only know there is such a person. 
 She is a hundred years old." 
 
 " She was a witch forty years ago ; is one 
 now for all I know to the contrary ; was one 
 then, at all events. She used to live in the 
 other part of this house. Her old man and 
 mine were both living then. She had one 
 daughter and I two. Both of mine are dead." 
 
 " Did she live here long ? " I asked, for she 
 came to a full stop in her narrative, and seemed 
 to forget it entirely. 
 
 " Who ? " 
 
 " Why, Marm Fulleston. You were going to 
 tell me about her being a witch." 
 
 " So I was, sure enough ! Yes, she lived 
 here four years. We got on together nicely at 
 first, but in the second summer my butter was 
 better than hers and there was more of it, 
 though we had the same number of cows. 
 Every body praised my butter, and I suppose 
 she could not bear it. I took great pains with 
 it ; I always did with every thing. I never 
 thought of putting her out, and I didn't know 
 she was a witch at first." 
 
 "What didjshedo?" 
 
 "She bewitched the milk the first thing. It
 
 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 387 
 
 would sour and curdle before I could strain it 
 into the pans. I had to put witch-wood all 
 round the pails and pans to keep it sweet. 
 Then she tried the cream in the churn. It 
 would turn as sour as vinegar as soon as we 
 began to stir it. That made me mad, so I just 
 put the shovel and tongs in the fire till they 
 were red-hot, and then thrust them suddenly 
 into the cream. I'll show you that churn." 
 
 She opened a dark closet near her and 
 brought out a common wooden churn. 
 
 " Look here, see how I burned the sides and 
 bottom. The old witch was glad to leave my 
 churn and keep out of it too after that. She 
 never troubled it again when I was at home." 
 
 " Why, how could the hot irons affect her ? " 
 
 " Don't you know ? Well, you are green. 
 It was all the same as if I had laid them on to 
 her bodily. She kept her bed more'n a week. 
 They pretended 'twas the rheumatics, but I saw 
 her girl making up a salve for burns. They 
 couldn't cheat me. But I must own that I 
 was real sorry, for I didn't mean to hurt her so 
 much." 
 
 " I suppose you had no further trouble with 
 vour cream."
 
 388 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 
 
 " Not till late in the fall. I went then to 
 stay a couple of days with Nancy Lake, who 
 was dying with consumption. I put the cream 
 into the churn before I started, and the girls 
 knew how to make up the rolls as well as I did. 
 Well, the girls churned and churned upon that 
 cream, and the old man he churned ; they were 
 at it nigh about all the time I was gone, but it 
 didn't change a bit. When I got home it looked 
 exactly as it did when I left it. As soon as I 
 looked at it I knew what ailed it. 
 
 " Why, how could you tell ? " 
 
 "Any body could tell that there wasn't a 
 natural state of things in that churn." 
 
 " Well, what did you do about it ?" 
 
 " O, it didn't bother me a minute. I knew 
 just what to do. It wont do to speak when 
 you are trying to start out a witch ; you can 
 tree them like a coon, and torment them if you 
 want to punish them, but if you want to get rid 
 of them you must hold your tongue. Do you 
 see the difference ? " 
 
 " Yes, I understand." 
 
 " So I said nothing to nobody, but went 
 straight up stairs into the garret over the back 
 kitchen, where I got two leaves out of an old
 
 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 389 
 
 Bible. I put one leaf under the churn and laid 
 one on the top, and that butter came in five 
 minutes." 
 
 " Really, there must be something in know- 
 ing how to manage," I said heartily, beginning 
 to feel that our late days were rather tame in 
 comparison with " Jang syne." 
 
 " Sure enough ! But Marm Fulleston was in 
 full mettle again. The very next day my old 
 man came running into the back room where I 
 was shelling beans and told me that the pig 
 was bewitched. 
 
 "'The massy!' says I ; ' what'll come next?' 
 
 " ' Don' know,' says he ; ' better 'tend to this 
 'fore any thing more turns up.' 
 
 " So I called Betsy to shell the beans and 
 then follered the old man out to the sty. Sure 
 enough ! there was the pig whirling round and 
 round on the very tip of his nose, with his hind 
 legs a cutting through the air like a set of yarn 
 swifts. I wish you could have seen it." 
 
 " Yes, it would have been a curious sight. 
 Didn't you think of the Scripture swine that 
 the devils entered into?" 
 
 " No ; there wasn't any time to think of any 
 thing. There's no use in thinking when you're
 
 390 (Jlimpses of our Lake Region. 
 
 dealing with witches, if there ever is. You've 
 got to do something first." 
 
 " Yes. Tell me what you did. I should 
 have been at a loss how to manage." 
 
 " I wasn't. I went back into the kitchen 
 without speaking a word and got a brimming 
 ladle full of biling water and threw it straight 
 into that pig's face. That brought his heels 
 down and his head up pretty lively." 
 
 "Didn't it scald him badly?" 
 
 " The pig ? Of course not. But old Mother 
 Fulleston's face was blistered all over. It shows 
 the scar now. I never see such a burn afore. 
 She made believe she'd got the erysipelas, and 
 old Doctor Brown actilly came and doctored her 
 for erysipelas, but I knew better all the time. 
 Have a pinch of snuff?" 
 
 " No, I never take it. Thank you all the 
 same. I think that Ma'am Fulleston must 
 have been cured of meddling with your affairs 
 after that." 
 
 " Well, she was a little shy for some time, 
 only if I left home sh would bother the girls. 
 You see a witch is a witch. The root of the 
 matter is in 'em, and it will work out. It aint 
 like a sickness that one gets well of or dies ol.
 
 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 391 
 
 It goes by fits and starts just as it gets a 
 chance, and it keeps ye alive if ye try to govern 
 it. Of course, I couldn't always stay at home 
 to watch the house, and the girls were just 
 like young chickens. The old man was good 
 enough in his way, but the massy! he was no 
 match for witches. So we had to warn them 
 to leave, and they moved over to Rocky Lane." 
 
 " Where she lives now ?" I asked. 
 
 " Yes ; they bought the place." 
 
 " I suppose you have had no trouble since. 
 No trouble with witches, I mean." 
 
 " Plenty of it, but no remarkable trouble with 
 her ; that is, after the first few weeks. She 
 gave us up then, I suppose. But the next Sun- 
 day, when we were coming home from meeting, 
 the horse stopped right before her door and 
 would not stir for an hour. We were in an 
 open wagon, and it rained as hard as it could 
 pour. I would not go into her house, at any 
 rate, and there was no other within half a 
 mile So we sat still in our best clothes and 
 soaked and soaked till it stopped raining, and 
 then the horse went home without any diffi- 
 culty. Ever since that we've put witch-wood in 
 the harness."
 
 392 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 
 
 " I should like to see some witch-wood. What- 
 is it like?" 
 
 " That's witch-wood on the top of the settle. 
 There's some on that nail over the shelf and on 
 the looking-glass behind you. But it's dried up 
 so that you can't tell how it looks green. It 
 loses its power when it dries up. There aint 
 much virtue in them twigs, though they're bet- 
 ter'n nothing." 
 
 "Does Ma'am Fulleston tell fortunes?" 
 
 " No ; bless you, child, she'd never own she 
 was a witch at all. She'll die likely with some 
 such lie in her mouth. But nobody ever saw 
 her inside a church or anywhere among Chris- 
 tians. She used to read her Bible a good deal ; 
 it was easy enough to guess what for. Then 
 she was everlastingly in the woods a-gathering 
 herbs and roots and stewing them down into 
 salves, and syrups, and all sorts of medicines. 
 Folks called her odd. Odd ! T guess she was. 
 Half the neighbors would send for her sooner 
 than a doctor if they were sick, and I sup- 
 pose she 'witched them all, for they all stood 
 up for her. I don't suppose there were over 
 a dozen people in our town who believed she 
 was a witch. There was no use in telling
 
 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 393 
 
 them. If I tried to convince them they'd turn 
 as cool as cucumbers, and keep away from me 
 instead of her. But what I know I know. A 
 fact is a fact any day. You can't get away 
 from that." 
 
 "That is true. You spoke of the old woman's 
 daughter ; what became of her ? " 
 
 " She's married long ago ; married into a 
 first-rate family, too. She was a sweet, pretty 
 girl, not at all witchey, like her mother. Her 
 husband has been to .the legislater twice. He 
 is one of the selectmen now." 
 
 " Where do they live ? " 
 
 " Over with the old woman. They've got a 
 fine place of their own, but she stuck to her old 
 home, so they shut up their house and came to 
 Rocky Lane. Their children are off at school, 
 and they'll stay, likely, while her old mother 
 lives." 
 
 "Do you visit them?" I asked with some 
 curiosity. 
 
 "No; but between you and me," said the 
 old lady, hitching her chair nearer to mine and 
 nipping a fresh pinch of snuff, "between you 
 and me, I should really enjoy going over there 
 some time if it were not for this witch business.
 
 394 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 
 
 But when you know a thing you know it," she 
 added, shutting her box positively, "and there's 
 no such thing as getting rid of it. A chair is 
 a chair, say what you will ; and facts are facts, 
 sure enough ! " 
 
 SCHOOL-DAYS. 
 
 The fond attachment to the well-known place 
 Whence first we started into life's long race. 
 Maintains its hold with such unfailing sway, 
 We feel it e'en in age and at our latest day. 
 
 COWPER. 
 
 There is no time in the past to which my 
 memory clings more tenaciously than to the 
 days spent in the old red school-house. It 
 would be impossible now to recognize the most 
 of my associates, even if they could be gathered 
 together from the various parts of the earth to 
 which they have wandered, and sit down with 
 me for a chat this evening. They would have 
 all outgrown my memories of them. 
 
 The partially gray hair and wrinkled cheeks, 
 the faded lips and dimmed eyes, would not 
 recall the bright locks and chubby faces that I 
 remember. Some of them have been dead 
 many years, others have become premature!) 
 old with sickness or sorrow, and all have nearlv
 
 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 395 
 
 lost their identity beneath the changing touch 
 of time. 
 
 Yet not one of them are lost to me. Every one 
 of those fresh young faces are held safely in the 
 casket of which my memory keeps the key. 
 Ah, what pleasant, smiling faces they are! 
 
 It is strange that, among so many reminis- 
 cences, I have treasured so little that is sad. 
 Those school-days are like a prolonged frolic. 
 The mischievous pranks of the roguish pupils 
 lose none of their keen relish when reviewed 
 by maturer vision. My eyes readily moisten 
 at the hearing of the tale of sorrow, but the 
 mishaps of my youth retain only their ludicrous 
 aspects ; and whatever of pathos they may have 
 had, the remembrance provokes laughter oftener 
 than tears. 
 
 There was a pale, slender child in my class 
 called Lucy. Our ages and natural tastes were 
 the same, and we were seldom asunder. Light- 
 brown, almost yellow, hair shaded her plain 
 freckled face, but her clear blue eyes were al- 
 most beautiful. How restless she was ! She 
 seemed to have no power to keep still. 
 
 She was never a favorite with the teachers, 
 though there was no difficulty about her reci- 
 26
 
 396 Glimpses of our La^c Region. 
 
 tations. They were committed perfectly, and 
 so she was a credit to the school. The 
 troubles grew out of her leisure time. She was 
 restricted to certain studies, which were like 
 pastime to her, taking in as she did the whole 
 scope of the lesson at a single reading. Mis- 
 chief became a necessity to her. She does not 
 recollect a single tribute to her good behavior 
 like the " rewards of merit " exhibited by other 
 children. 
 
 Looking back over thirty years, it seems a 
 pity that no one understood her, and that no 
 effort was made to direct her surplus energy 
 and restless activity of mind into wholesome 
 channels. 
 
 I particularly remember, in connection with 
 her, one summer afternoon in August. It was 
 one of those sultry, listless days, when the most 
 vigorous temperament succumbs to the ener- 
 vating influence of the weather. How sleepy 
 we were ! How utterly impossible it seemed 
 to trace correctly the outline of a map, or to 
 commit those uncouth abbreviations ! Even 
 the teacher was conquered by the oppressive 
 heat, and sat dozing in her chair behind her 
 desk.
 
 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 397 
 
 No one seemed to be fairly awake excepting 
 Lucy. I can see her now, reaching over her 
 desk to tickle the neck of a girl in front of her 
 with a wisp of straw, and then suddenly twitch- 
 ing single hairs from the bowed head of a sleep- 
 ing boy across the aisle. She pinned labels to 
 the boys' jackets, and, slipping down under the 
 benches, contrived to attach long strips of 
 white and brown paper to the hems of the girls' 
 dresses. 
 
 Presently the teacher roused herself, and 
 called the second class in mental arithmetic 
 to recite their lesson. It was this class that 
 had furnished the subjects for Lucy'* skill in 
 the ornamental line, and she bent her head and 
 industriously began to search for the most ob- 
 scure places on her maps, when she heard the 
 rustling of the paper appendages, followed by 
 the stifled giggling of the whole school. 
 
 " Lucy Dow ! " called the teacher. She always 
 looked to Lucy for the explanation of any mis- 
 chief. " Lucy ! " 
 
 " Ma'am ! " 
 
 " Take your books into the garret and study 
 by yourself." 
 
 " Yes, ma'am."
 
 398 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 
 
 Lucy obeyed with alacrity. She used to say 
 that if there was one place pleasanter to her 
 than another it was the old garret. The school- 
 house garret had its disadvantages, being low, 
 and hot, and dirty, but it was better than no 
 garret. 
 
 There was a pail of water standing on a 
 bench in the entry, and Lucy, mindful of the 
 heat above, decided to take it along. She had 
 no desire to study, no intention of doing so. 
 There was a round hole in the floor, cut for 
 the accommodation of a stove-pipe in winter 
 time, and serving for a ventilator in summer. 
 Lucy carefully placed her books on the rough 
 casement of the little window, and then sat 
 down on the floor by the hole to amuse herself 
 by watching the children below. 
 
 The class in arithmetic were still on the floor, 
 and one of the girls stood directly beneath the 
 opening. To attract her attention Lucy brought 
 the pail of water, and, dipping her fingers in it, 
 showered a few drops upon the child's head, 
 who, startled by the dripping coolness, sprang 
 aside with a half-suppressed scream. 
 
 " Mary Lee, be quiet ! What is the matter 
 with you ? " interrogated the teacher angrily.
 
 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 399 
 
 " I don't know, ma'am. I I guess the plas- 
 tering leaks." 
 
 " Leaks ! this dry, hot day ! What a little 
 simpleton ! " 
 
 " My hair is wet," said Mary, putting her 
 hands to her head. 
 
 " Is it ? stand aside and let me see," said the 
 teacher, happening to remember Lucy, and in- 
 ferring at once that she was at the bottom, or, 
 rather, at the top, of the mischief. Lucy did 
 not choose to be so soon interrupted in her 
 sport, but in suddenly drawing back from view 
 she accidentally upset the pail of water over the 
 hole just as the schoolmistress brought her face 
 beneath it. 
 
 " O dear ! " exclaimed Lucy, laughing hyster- 
 ically at this climax of trouble, " what shall I 
 do ! what shall I do ! I'll run away ! " 
 
 She flew down the stairs and out into the open 
 air before the teacher could regain her breath 
 so as to speak to her. But directly two of the 
 largest boys were sent out to bring her back to 
 the school-room by force. This Lucy resented 
 as an indignity. She would not submit to it. 
 For the' first time since the summer school be- 
 gan she felt angry.
 
 4OO Glimpses of our Lake Region. 
 
 "I should look pretty a-being lugged into 
 school by those big boys. If she'd asked me 
 politely I'd gone in of myself, but I wont go in 
 now. And I'll keep the boys out too, if 1 ~an. 
 Johnny Wilbur! say, Johnny Wilbur!" 
 
 " O, there she is, up on the hill," said Johnny, 
 looking in the direction of her voice. " Come, 
 Lucy. Tim Jones and me is to fetch you back. 
 D'ye hear?" 
 
 " Look here, Johnny, you know those big 
 peaches over to our house, down by the brook. 
 We're going to pick 'em after school. Shouldn't 
 you and Tim like to come over ? " 
 
 " Yes, crackee ! Them are peaches real 
 busters. Tim, have you seen 'em ? " 
 
 " No, but Susy told me about them. I'll go." 
 
 " But, Lucy," said Johnny, scarcely knowing 
 how to carry on hostilities in prospect of the 
 peaches, the teacher told us to come for you." 
 
 " Well, what of it ? I sha'n't go in, and you 
 know you can't catch me if you try. You just 
 get my sun-bonnet from the entry, will you ? 
 It's a blue one gingham." 
 
 " I can't ; she'd see me. You'd better go in." 
 
 " O fiddlestick ! don't bother. You see," 
 said Lucy, " mother don't like me to tan my
 
 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 401 
 
 neck ; but I can put my apron over it to keep 
 off the sun." 
 
 " We shall catch it if we go back without 
 you, Lucy," said Tim. 
 
 " She told us to get some birch sticks," added 
 Johnny. 
 
 " To whip me with, I suppose," said Lucy, 
 nodding her head at the school-house, and danc- 
 ing about restlessly as usual. " Well, it's too 
 hot to be whipped. I shouldn't enjoy it. If 
 you go in perhaps she'll try it, on you first." 
 
 " We've got to go in, you know." 
 
 " No ; I don't know. You've got your hats 
 on, and you can keep looking for me till it's too 
 late to go in. Don't you see ? " 
 
 The boys laughed. " To be sure," said Tim 
 approvingly. 
 
 " Well, hunt for me down in that hollow, will 
 you ? I'll just show her that I'm alive, and then 
 we'll hunt for peaches." 
 
 There were close wooden blinds to all the 
 school-house windows. They were called shut- 
 ters. Those on the shady side were open, but 
 on the side toward the hill where Lucy stood 
 they were shut to exclude the sun. It was easy 
 for her to approach unobserved, and to creep
 
 402 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 
 
 round to the open windows before, any one saw 
 her. Stooping under them, she managed to un- 
 fasten the shutters without noise, and ran fear- 
 lessly along the whole line, closing each blind 
 with a loud bang as she passed it, and so shut- 
 ting up the whole school in total darkness. 
 
 " Now," said Lucy as she walked contentedly 
 away, " if she's got any manners I hope she'll 
 show it next time." 
 
 She made no secret of the affair on reaching 
 home, and did not object to the consequent pun- 
 ishment ; but. it did come hard the next morning 
 to ask the teacher's pardon. To her surprise, 
 it was graciously accorded, and the fine peaches, 
 which she had brought for a peace-offering, but 
 had magnanimously resolved to withhold till 
 after her punishment was over, lest they might 
 seem a bribe to her judge, were accepted with 
 a cordial grace that went to Lucy's heart. " I 
 wonder if I can be good," said the child to 
 herself. 
 
 Thinking about Lucy and my school days, 
 there comes up before me all at once a scene 
 that I would give much to be able to portray 
 vividly. Lucy had a sister Anna, a bright, 
 pleasant girl, but so constitutionally timid as
 
 Glimpses of our Lake Region 403 
 
 seriously to affect her happiness. She was very 
 much afraid of snakes. Most children fear 
 them, and there seems to be a general antipathy 
 between them and many grown people. Anna 
 had a constant, morbid terror of them. 
 
 She could not enjoy berrying, because there 
 might be snakes in the bushes. She could not 
 gather for herself the ripe fruits of the orchard, 
 because a snake might be coiled for a spring 
 among the green branches of the trees. When 
 the rest of us, venturing on forbidden pleasures, 
 left our shoes and stockings upon the banks of 
 the river, and leisurely waded up and down the 
 stream, or hid under the cool, shadowy arches 
 of the bridge, she could not be tempted to share 
 the sport because of the harmless, striped water- 
 snakes that sometimes tickled our bare feet. 
 And when, one hot evening, it was found that 
 a milk-snake had noiselessly entered the dairy 
 window and helped himself to a supper of 
 sweet rich cream, she lost all sense of security 
 anywhere. 
 
 It was the next day after this serpentine 
 "raid" that she was returning from school at 
 noon, and thinking of mother Eve's courage in 
 chatting confidentially with the old serpent of
 
 404 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 
 
 all, when she felt a slight pull on the skirt of 
 her dress. 
 
 " Hullo, Anna!" shouted a mischievous boy 
 on the opposite walk, " what are you going to 
 do with that snake ? " 
 
 Poor Anna just glanced over her shoulder 
 and saw a long, slender, dark object clinging to 
 her dress behind. Of course, it was a snake, 
 and she was wild with terror at once. Before 
 any one could undeceive her she started off for 
 home at a rate of speed that would have been 
 impossible for any child not under the influence 
 of mortal fear. It was not exactly a running 
 race, for, with the effort to escape, there was 
 also a struggle to shake off the reptile. The 
 result was a succession of the most extraordi- 
 nary leaps ever executed by any animal, the 
 kangaroo excepted. 
 
 With every frantic bound into the air she 
 uttered a shrill shriek, which would alone have 
 frightened away a battalion of serpents. 
 
 The family at home were sitting quietly at 
 their dinner, when, through the open doors, 
 they saw Anna coming up the street after the 
 manner described, jumping and screaming with 
 all her might. In less than a moment she was
 
 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 405 
 
 hurrying directly by her own door, and heading 
 straight for the old South meeting-house, three 
 miles away. Anna's father was utterly unable 
 to understand this curious exhibition of gym- 
 nastic and vocal power in the usually quiet 
 child, but he lost not a moment in hurrying to 
 her assistance. He was too late to arrest her 
 progress. 
 
 How far she might have gone it is impossible 
 to say, though it is probable that she would have 
 kept on till her unnatural strength had become 
 exhausted if no obstacle had appeared in her 
 way. But it fortunately happened that an old 
 man was leading a horse across the road at a 
 little distance. He stopped short when he saw 
 her coming. He was a rough-spoken, though 
 kind-hearted, old fellow, with a voice that was 
 easily heard for half a mile when he chose to 
 raise it. " Stop ! " he thundered as his eye took 
 in the state of affairs, " stop, or I'll knock you 
 down. You great dumb, dory-head ! where are 
 you dragging that old brier ? " 
 
 Anna stopped at once. There was not a child 
 in the neighborhood who dared to disobey the 
 old man, and Anna stood in especial awe of 
 him. The revulsion of feeling on seeing for
 
 406 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 
 
 herself the innocent brier would have been too 
 much for her if she had found any sympathy in 
 her trouble ; but he kept on scolding her till 
 the color came back to her face. It was the 
 best service he could have done her. By the 
 time her father came up with them she was 
 able to explain her strange performance. How 
 that old man laughed ! How every body laughed ! 
 How people laugh still, after all these years, 
 as they recall that wonderful exhibition of 
 agility ! 
 
 O the fresh, unstudied fun of childhood ! It 
 will not be forgotten. Its memories throng up 
 from the buried past, and so insist upon their 
 right to a resurrection that I have no heart to 
 enforce a longer sepulture. Shall I make room 
 for just another? 
 
 It was the close of the winter school. The 
 teacher was a pious young man preparing for 
 the ministry, and he had occasionally assembled 
 the pupils and their parents in the old red 
 school-house to listen to a short lecture or ser- 
 mon. Every body liked the good young man, 
 and it was with real regret that the announce- 
 ment of his farewell lecture was received. A 
 crowded house for that last evening was certain,
 
 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 407 
 
 and a gratifying interest was manifested. Be- 
 longing to the school was a small boy, small in 
 size, but at least half a dozen years older than 
 he looked. The children called him Captain 
 Joe. He had obtained this sobriquet by oc- 
 casionally mustering the young militia of the 
 school into regular lines and training them for 
 soldiers. There were as many girls as boys 
 under his command, and Captain Joe thus ac- 
 knowledged the equality of the sexes in advance 
 of all the " women's rights conventions." 
 
 It occurred to Captain Joe that some especial 
 evidence of regard on the part of his young 
 warriors might be acceptable to the retiring 
 pedagogue, and, having matured his plan, he 
 summoned the light infantry to the neighbor- 
 ing wood to be instructed in the programme. 
 I was then about seven years old, and so fortu- 
 nate as to be young enough to serve. 
 
 First, we were each presented with two 
 smooth sticks, about two feet long, and in- 
 structed in their use as substitutes for fiddles 
 and fiddle-bows. Next we were drilled in the 
 pronunciation of certain cabalistic words which 
 none of us understood then, or have since com- 
 prehended.
 
 408 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 
 
 " Knicklenuckle, knicklenuckle, kernuck, ker- 
 nuck, nuck." 
 
 When we were perfect in this, and could re- 
 peat the words in concert, with a uniform ac- 
 cent, we were next shown how to fiddle them 
 properly. Captain Joe soon expressed himself 
 satisfied with our proficiency. He then told us 
 that he wished to give a gratifying surprise to 
 our parents as well as our teacher, and, there- 
 fore, all information in regard to our plans 
 would be contraband. 
 
 We were to sit together as usual on the 
 middle aisle of the school-house, the side-seats 
 being reserved for the visitors. As soon as the 
 teacher had finished his lecture we were to rise 
 simultaneously and march in couples up the 
 center, and then, dividing our forces, pass down 
 the side-aisles, fiddling and repeating as loudly 
 as possible the words we had been taught. 
 After which we were to report to his head- 
 quarters in the wood. 
 
 It was a lovely evening, cold, but as clear as 
 a bell. I remember nothing at all of the lect- 
 ure, for I was fumbling in the desk before me 
 half the time to make sure that my sticks were 
 all right. The rest of our little company were
 
 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 409 
 
 as anxious as myself that all should go off 
 creditably. The lecture seemed very long to 
 us. It must have been interesting, for it com- 
 pletely absorbed the attention of the general 
 audience, and when, in closing, the speaker sol- 
 emnly and affectionately bade them adieu, there 
 were few who did not shed tears. He was 
 himself greatly affected, and covered his face 
 with his hands as he sat down. 
 
 Now for it. We were in line in a moment. 
 " Knicklenuckle, knicklenuckle, kernuck, ker- 
 nuck, nuck," came out with a full sonorous 
 power worthy of a " Fourth of July." The 
 long sticks played in perfect time and we kept 
 step to a charm. Up the center, down the 
 side aisles. 
 
 We had not proceeded quite half-way down 
 the side aisle when a strong hand unceremo- 
 niously twitched me out of the ranks, and I 
 found myself in a seat with my mother, who 
 held on to my arm with an iron grasp and 
 shook me vigorously whenever she could stop 
 her own shaking from hysterical laughter. The 
 meeting broke up without the usual benediction. 
 Ay, but didn't we catch it next day? All but 
 Captain Joe.
 
 4IO Glimpses of our Lake Region: 
 
 FAREWELL GLIMPSE. 
 
 The splendor of the summer has gone by, 
 and the russet leafage of late October is falling 
 to the ground. All nature seems to be enjoy- 
 ing a grateful rest, and suggests to the thought- 
 ful mind the sweetest rest that awaits the Chris- 
 tian when the feverish struggle of life shall be 
 over. 
 
 At this season the mind seeks for itself a 
 more serious cast of thought, a deeper experi- 
 ence, and a stronger feeling than was induced 
 by the beauty and the maturity of the summer. 
 I have no fellowship with the popular, poetic 
 complaint : 
 
 " The melancholy days are come, 
 The saddest of the year," etc. 
 
 It has more misanthropy than truth in it. The 
 autumn's bracing vigor, its long, cool evenings 
 by the cheerful fireside, and the earnest reflec- 
 tions excited by its every-clay teachings, make 
 it for me the most desirable season of the year. 
 Its sear decay is not a mournful sight when we 
 remember thai the great principle of life abides 
 forever, and that the returning spring will bring 
 to the lightest spray of the willow and the
 
 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 4 1 1 
 
 scantiest mat of grasses a resurrection of 
 verdure and beauty. 
 
 The wasted flower-bed by the garden-wall 
 will again grow sweet with delicate myrtle 
 bloom, and the blue gentian and crimson rho- 
 dendron will anew variegate the living robe 
 of the hills. The beautiful cannot die ; at its 
 creation God stamped it with immortality. 
 
 " A thing of beauty is a joy forever" 
 
 It is faith rather than poetry which inspires us 
 as we look out upon the manifold works of 
 the Almighty. As the mountain streams grow 
 strong and swell out into richer fullness when 
 the fervid summer is over, so we, sitting on 
 their banks and noting on every hand the 
 tokens of Infinite power and goodness, find our 
 shallow rills of thought deepening into vigorous 
 and refreshing currents, and our hearts grow- 
 ing strong while God reveals himself unto us. 
 We understand and are thankful for the stern 
 discipline of sorrow. It is God's method of 
 teaching, of purifying. We need intellectual 
 grace as well as intellectual strength ; and grief, 
 patiently borne, has a subtile, refining power. 
 
 The rough-hewn character may be reliable, 
 27
 
 412 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 
 
 but it is not attractive. There are those whc 
 pride themselves upon being " rough diamonds." 
 it is like a disagreeable boy pluming himself 
 upon a dirty face. They glory in the jagged 
 edges which so irritate their neighbors. One 
 cannot help doubting the quality of the dia- 
 mond at times. God has given to these talent, 
 and strength, and undisputed force of character. 
 But he has not superadded the graces of cul- 
 ture, discipline, and refinement. Each person 
 has to work these out for himself, and the 
 rough diamond is like any ordinary stone with- 
 out them. There is no outcropping of vanity 
 so annoying as its fancied superiority to polish 
 and culture. 
 
 We have "rough diamonds" as well as pol- 
 ished stones in our lake region. Indeed, almost 
 every phase of human nature finds here its rep- 
 resentative. 
 
 We can scarcely be called a humble-minded 
 people. We believe in ourselves if we doubt 
 every thing else. We have a sublime, serene 
 faith in our own wisdom and capacity. Not in 
 acquired wisdom, but in our inherent brilliance 
 of intellect. I wonder who could tell us any 
 thing that we didn't know before. Few people
 
 Glimpses of out Lake Region. 4 1 3 
 
 ever attempt it. Those who have the hardi- 
 hood _ to do so never repeat the attempt. They 
 find that it cannot be done. 
 
 I saw the experiment tried not two hours 
 ago. I knew it would fail, and it did. 
 
 " I say, Sam Boynton," shouted a waggish- 
 looking fellow on the street, "did you know 
 they'd caught a whale up in Snoog's pond ? " 
 
 " Caught him, have they ? I'm glad of it. I 
 heard they were after one." 
 
 " They've just weighed it weighs two tuns." 
 
 " Yes, I hooked my steelyards under its gills 
 last week just to heft it. It hasn't gained an 
 ounce since. Whales keep about so always." 
 
 The man eyed Sam Boynton with profound 
 respect, but as he went on his way he gave 
 vent to a deep-seated, prolonged whistle, which 
 was very expressive. 
 
 We have no public library. We do not need 
 one. We are not dependent on outsiders for 
 our thoughts. Besides, we have found out that 
 thinking is not essential. There is nothing that 
 worries, and frets, and tires one so much as 
 thinking. An esteemed citizen told me in con- 
 fidence that he could stop thinking at pleasure ; 
 that he often stopped for a couple of hours, and
 
 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 
 
 that he always made it a point to stop at once 
 whenever thinking disagreed with him. 
 
 In his opinion, thinking was at the bottom 
 oi all the evils of society. " Let me just prove 
 it to you, ma'am," he said. " If people had not 
 been a-thinking there wouldn't have been a war. 
 I suppose you can see that ? " 
 
 Yes, I saw that. " And if there hadn't been 
 a war, we shouldn't have had to pay a tax on 
 every thing more than the thing itself is worth. 
 There wouldn't be any war on taxes either if 
 folks would give up thinking." 
 
 I could not dispute that, but I expressed a 
 wish, which he sneered at as " weakly woman- 
 ish," that his theory of " thinking " might not 
 become a regular system or institution in my 
 dear native town. I think that our thinking 
 powers would occasion but little trouble if we 
 could somehow have the conceit taken out of 
 us. But it is childish to be always wanting 
 something that we cannot have. 
 
 As to religion, we are in the front rank. We 
 serve God whenever we conveniently can. Our 
 churches are crowded on every occasion of 
 special interest, and the choir service is effect- 
 ive in all kinds of weather. Our Sabbath-
 
 Glimpses of. our Lake Region. 415 
 
 schools are up to the times, and their machin- 
 ery has all the modern improvements. Our 
 sewing circles adopt the approved methods of 
 combining wholesome recreation with money- 
 getting. 
 
 Indeed, no one can be blind to the marvek>us 
 changes, if not improvements, which have mod- 
 ified our religious life during the last twenty 
 years. Bunyan's footsore pilgrims are glad to 
 get into the shade since the building of the 
 " Celestial Railroad." 
 
 To become a Christian, once, it was supposed 
 important not only to experience a change of 
 heart, but to exhibit the effect of that change 
 in the outward conduct. Any body could iden- 
 tify a Christian after a moment's observation 
 of him. Regeneration was the commencement 
 of a new life, and the redeemed spirit expe- 
 rienced a positive distaste for mere worldly 
 pleasures and soulless recreations. The veriest 
 worldling was so far behind these illuminated 
 times as to discover an impropriety in the pres- 
 ence of professors of piety at dancing parties, 
 and also in their children's attendance at danc- 
 ing schools. 
 
 It would have looked inconsistent, to use no
 
 4 1 6 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 
 
 stronger term, for a devout lady to spend three 
 fourths of her time over the details of a fashion- 
 able toilet, or to consecrate all the powers of 
 her mind to the maintenance of an aristocratic 
 position. 
 
 Private prayer and self-examination were held 
 indispensable, and the doctrines and mandates 
 of the Bible were not classed among whims 
 and oddities. A religious life was a laborious, 
 painstaking life. Its genuineness would have 
 been doubted if it had not cared for the sick 
 and the destitute if it had spoken no words 
 of comfort to the sorrowful or attempted to re- 
 claim the erring. 
 
 It was a life of crosses, of manifold trials, "of 
 weariness often, of patient watching and earnest 
 striving to walk worthy of the high profession 
 made before God and man. The baptismal 
 vows were held sicred, and the covenant be- 
 tween the repenting sinner and the reconciled 
 God was fearfully sublime in its eternal bearing 
 upon the soul's interest. 
 
 The name of God was spoken reverently, 
 and the sacred truths of revelations were hum- 
 bly acknowledged. 
 
 Nobody thought of whittling off the sharp
 
 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 417 
 
 corners of the Commandments. Hair-splitting 
 cavilers preferred staying outside of the Church. 
 All these things, so strange and trivial now, 
 had a certain weight and importance in those 
 primitive days. 
 
 There are people yet living, besides myself, 
 who can remember when a Christian was ex- 
 pected to " love God with all the heart, and his 
 neighbor as himself;' ' when he was not consid- 
 ered demented or hopelessly behind the age if 
 he tried to honor God with his substance, and 
 to " do all to the glory of God.'' 
 
 Well, it can't be denied that there was much 
 real enjoyment in that old-fashioned, self-deny- 
 ing way of serving the Lord Jesus. They trod 
 in the low valley of hurrn'liation, but the golden 
 sunbeams of heaven penetrated to the very 
 depths. It seemed full of dark, threatening 
 vapors to those who only looked over the brink, 
 but a steady, serene light cheered the accus- 
 tomed traveler. Those who lived godly lives 
 suffered the divinely predicted persecution, but 
 there was no power that could touch the pre- 
 cious life hid with Christ in God. 
 
 Remembering their contented joy in the 
 midst of tribulation, catching again the gleam
 
 4 1 8 Glimpses of our Lake Region. 
 
 of their radiant faces upon the couch of death, 1 
 would fain be the subject of a like experience, a 
 like earnest, living piety. And this in the face 
 of all modern improvements upon God's original 
 plan for saving souls. 
 
 Casting aside, as worthless dross, all the 
 speculative tinsel and plausible worldliness 
 which makes the temple of the Master like a 
 " den of thieves," I would clasp to my heart 
 the dear old-fashioned Bible of my ancestors, 
 never yet altered by God's permission, and 
 take it for my chart of life here, and my guide 
 to the purity and happiness of a life in heaven. 
 
 THE END.
 
 Rapid Working Library Record. 4 >i/.->. 
 
 No. 1 for 300 vols., $0 75; by mail JO 05 
 
 2 " 600 " 1 00 ; " " I -_^ 
 
 " 3 " 'JOO " 1 20 ; " " , 1 f 
 
 " 4 " 1,800 " 2^5; " " 315 
 
 " There arc one hundred and twe.-.ty eight books niissin ' 
 from our library," said a superintendent last Sunday. " All 
 wlio have books will pleo.sc lo bring tliein in as sou as ; 
 be." The librarian's system had broken doun not his 
 physical system, strangely enough, but his record of b oks 
 and he couldn't tell \v.i > had taken out the missing Looks. 
 We have recently cxa nined a Library Record which seems 
 wcl. calculated to p event such confu-ion and loss, which 
 every body knows is too common. The system is simple 
 enough : 1. There is a list of teachers and scholars, each 
 member of the school receiving a numl>er by which he- is 
 kno\n in the record. 2. Each of the remaining pages is 
 ruled in checks, ten narrow columns wide and fifty-two lines 
 deep. The columns are numbered and the lines are dati-d, 
 Kir>t Sunday in January," " Second Sunday in January," etc. 
 3. In operation, e.ich book in the library lu.s a nuinU-r corre- 
 sponding to the number of theso vertical columns. Suppose , 
 Ma're .lone* wis.'ics to take out "The (iilcad Guards." SI.e 
 linds it in her catalo -u^ numbered 2", puts that number v\ith 
 others" "ii a cud ^ which hears botii her name and her iiiimlxT) 
 nnd hands it in to tlie librarian. It is the third Sun lay in 
 February. The clerk give* I er tlie book, and tmn'mr to his 
 Record puts her number down i-i the check rndcr "23 . nd op- 
 pos te " February, third S nday. ' When sh>- brings back the 
 book he cancels the entry. It has taki-n eons'ulerai'le space to 
 desi-ril>e the. sy-tem in writing, hut a brig t young min or 
 woman and no other need apply for the libniriu-i's place 
 will comprehend the workings of the system in five minutes.- 
 It is a thoroughly sys pmatiz<-d, ra|'id working, nnd ensily 
 kept record, which w i'l pay for itself ten tinvs in a tn'mtli l>y 
 keeping track of ' lost, stmynl, or stolon l>ook.s." X. .S. 
 Jotirnn!. 
 
 The Lattice Library. Stories and I ictuivs foi Chldren. 5x7 
 
 inches. 10 vols. 5oO pages. 3SO ilhi.-trati'>n.~. lualK)X 300 
 
 There could be no handsomer, bettei'j cheaper books for the 
 primary scholars than these The stones are takinsr, abound- 
 ing in excellent pictures, and varied by occa>ional jingles of 
 rhyme. We recommend them heartily to the mothers and 
 generous uncles of tl;e children a< well as to tl e library com- 
 mittee. The series is designed for th>- little folks who are 
 jast out of the infant-class, and the publishers inform us that 
 they will phortlv publish a set of ei^ht books for the very 
 " little tots." 
 
 A U'inter in India and Malaysia A.moii5? the Methodist 
 .Mission*. B\ M. V. B. Kux. U.D. Witha i loifoduetiun 
 
 by Bishop J. F". llurst. Uo.j pages I -0 
 
 We do not always get our best l>ooks on foreign mi.s-i< ns 
 from the miauonarieH themselves. Occasionally a Butler, a 
 Mackay, a Paton, or a Thoburn gives us a hook which thrills 
 with the writer's zeal, and sets us face to face with th? condi- 
 tions of the work. But more frequently the missionary author 
 seems to be too near his fli-ld to set the best view of it. This 
 b one of the best books on India. The author traveled with
 
 The Gilead Guards. By Mrs. O. W. Scott. 5x7 indies. II- 
 
 mstrated. 300 pages $1 00 
 
 This is a well-told story of war times in a Vermont village. 
 It shows the wrong side of the war the feebly manned farms, 
 the struggling and anxious wonu-n, the heat of patriotism, and 
 the chill of defeat, capture, and death. The author's per- 
 sonal experience of the scenes which she describes gives the 
 book a veracious quality which is very acceptable. 
 
 Una and Leo ; or, Changes and Chances. By Julia Goodfel- 
 
 low. 5x7 inches. 276 pages. Illustrated 1 00 
 
 The younger perhaps the youngest scholars will enjoy 
 this story. It is very simply told but full of odd happenings 
 and eccentric people. Two o> phaned children both of them 
 bright and good and true are separated in a great city and 
 the book records their experiences and their final happy re- 
 union. 
 
 A Workman's Confessions. Translated from the French of 
 
 Emiic Sou vestre by Floyd Hayes. 5x7 inches. 194 pages... 80 
 
 Peter Henry, the stone-mason, tells his life-story. The son 
 of a workman of Paris, by industry, honesty, and fidelity he 
 lias come t<> an old age of comfort and competence. The nar- 
 rative abounds in suggestions to young workingmen. 
 
 King's Messenger. By Emily Huntington Miller. 12mo. ' Il- 
 lustrated 90 
 
 The news of Mrs. Emily Huntington Miller's appointment 
 to the presidency of the Women's College of North-western 
 University, at Evanston, 111. , comes simultaneously with the 
 publication of her latest book. It is a story for the Epworth 
 Leagues. The title is " The King's Messengers," and it is a 
 history of young people's Christian endeavor to give Christ's 
 message to " the least of these '' his brethren. Its young 
 women are the " ministering children" living in America and 
 in the present generation. 
 
 The Friendly Five, By Mary C. Hungerford. 5x7 inches. 
 
 278 pages. Illastrated . ." ". 90 
 
 A remarkably straightforward and interesting storv of girl- 
 life. It is hard to say whether the heroine is little ISlfie, the 
 pet of the school, or the red-haired, befreckled charity pupil, 
 Mary Ann Stubbs, who is certainly heroic. The pluck and 
 perseverance with which she did her task of detective work is 
 the sort that makes boys think more of girl nature and girls 
 think nore of themselves. The influence of the book cannot 
 fail to be elevating. 
 
 Winwood Cliff Storio. By Daniel Wise, D.D. 4 vols. 
 Illustrated. Price, $3.60. Sold separate if desired. 
 
 Winwood Cliff ; or, Oscar, the Sailor's Son 90 
 
 Ben BUnker ; or, Maggie's Golden Motto 90 
 
 Uodcrick Ashcourt. A story showing how a manly boy and a 
 
 noble girl bravely battled with erre t troubles *. 90 
 
 Thoriiclirt'e Hall ; or, Why Joel Milford Changed his Opinion 
 
 of Boys whom He called " Goody-Goody Fellows." 90 
 
 Few writers for young people have enjoyed so wide and 
 long-continued ppularitv. Several hundred thousand copies 
 of his books have been soil, and the demand is undiminished. 
 The secret of this success is to be sought, perhaps, in the 
 author's thorough knowledge of life, his warm sympathy, and
 
 that inborn relish for a good story which still shows in his 
 voice and eye. The joung people of these books are not 
 marvels of good looks, or good conduct, but they are not 
 stuffed with sawdust, and what they Bay and do is told simply 
 and with a pleasant humor. 
 
 Sketches of Jewish Life in the First Century. Nico- 
 deiuus ; or, Scenes in the Days of Our Lord. Gamaliel ; or, 
 Scenes in the Times of St. Paul. By James Strong, S.T.D. 
 12mo. Cloth. Illustrated $0 i 
 
 By means of two simple narratives the learned author shows 
 us the impression made upon the people of Palestine by Christ 
 and the first apostles. Great care has been taken to secure 
 accuracy in every reference to the manners and customs of the 
 nation and period A book for all grade* above junior. 
 
 Along the Anatavv : The Record of a Campaign. By Mary R. 
 
 Baldwin. 12mo. Cloth ! 
 
 It was a campaign against a saloon well intrenched in the 
 wealth and social position of its proprietor. How the people 
 were aroused and how they fought it to the death is the record 
 in this book. For young men and young women. 
 
 Around Bronton. By Mary R. Baldwin. 12mo. Cloth II 
 
 Brouton was aristocratic and Northville was a neighboring 
 mill-settlement with very little God or Gospel. This is the 
 story of Margaret Berry, a Bronton girl, who felt ' called " to 
 do some great thing for the Northville people. How the work 
 prosp red this story tefls. 
 
 The Little Corporal ; or, For One Hundred Days. By Car- 
 lisle B. Holding. 5x7 inches. 357 pages J 
 
 We believe that it is well for the youn? people of this gen- 
 eration to know and understand the enthusiasm of war times. 
 For this reason we commend "The Little Corporal." the his- 
 tory of an Illinois boy who enlisted in the Union army for 
 "the hundred days," in response t" Lincoln's ull in 1864. 
 The narrative will interest and instruct, but will not demor- 
 alize. 
 
 Colonel's Charge. By Carlisle B. Holding. 5x7i inches. 550 
 pages 
 
 Companion volume " The Little Corporal.'' 
 
 Under the Queen ; or, Present Day Life in England. By 
 
 Henry TucKley. 5x7 inches. 278 pages 1 
 
 This volume records an American tr veler's impressions of 
 England. The author is a close observer, and gives a bright 
 and readable report of British social and political institutions. 
 
 Sheila. By Annie S. Swan. 5Jx7. inches. 382 pages 8 
 
 This is one of the most effective of the many studies of 
 Scotch life which we owe to this author's industry and talent. 
 Mrs. Smith sees life very closely and constructs a story which 
 never fai's to interest, and !-ometime>, as in this case, is of real 
 strength and power. The plot will have no mysteries to the 
 old novel r mler, but the character* ure of real ftv*h and 
 
 ll.xvl.
 
 Maitland ol LauricMon. A Family History. P.y Annie S. 
 
 Swan. 5x7 inches. 447 pa_es ." '....". JO 90 
 
 One of the best of the many " Swan books " is " Maitland 
 of Laurieston." The best part of it is the careful description 
 of the wholesome life at the laird's Scottish farmstead. The 
 young people especially Agnes Laurie are flesh and blood 
 creations whom it is a pleasure to know. 
 
 Ht. Veda's; or, The Pearl of Orr's Haven. By Annie S. Swan. 
 
 5x7 inches " 90 
 
 Tiiis is a tangled tale of shipwreck, love, and conspiracy. 
 The plot of the story lacks novelty, but is cleverly developed, 
 and the character of the " Pearl " is charming. 
 
 H:izell fe Sons, Brewers. By Annie S. Swan. 5x7 inches. 
 
 153 pages 75 
 
 This is the latest of the Swan reprints. It is a temperance 
 tale of marked p_ower, showing how " Hazell & Sons, Brew- 
 ers," found ruin in their brew. 
 
 Ayers of Studleigh. By Annie S. Swan. 5x7 inches. 318 
 
 pages 90 
 
 V/ho Shall Serve. A Story for the Times. By Annie S. 
 
 Swan. 5x7 inches. 442 pages 1 00 
 
 f'atnscu. An Historical Komance. By Samuel W. Odell. 5x7 
 
 inches. 284 pages 90 
 
 The author has woven the biblical incidents of Samson's 
 earlier life into a vigorous narrative which closes with his 
 elevation as judge over Israel. 
 
 Delilah. By Samuel W. Odell 75 
 
 Sequ 1 ta " Samson, the Giant Judge of Israel." 
 
 His Cousin, the Doctor. A Story. By Minnie Willis Baines. 
 
 5x7 inches. 198 pages 90 
 
 An exposure, of Christian science in the form of a story. 
 
 This book has a genuine mission to perform, and through the 
 
 Sunday school library its argument, example, and ridicule 
 
 may penetrate and clear some bcfogge-l mind. It is indeed a 
 
 story of love, but will do more than entertain its adult readers. 
 
 How I Became a Sailor, and Other Sketches. By Omer 
 
 J Gillett. 5x7 inches. 223 pages 75 
 
 In ten letters to his grandchildren an old man tells of his 
 box hood in Indiana, and how he came to be appointed a mid- 
 shipman in the United States navy. The letters are very 
 familiar, like an old man's story -telling, and are full of the 
 mild excitements of a boy's life in a Western river town a 
 generation ago. 
 
 Roc U to n. A Story of Springtime Recreations. By Kel Snow. 
 
 5x7 inches. 280 pages 90 
 
 Stephen Lyle, Gentleman and Philanthropist. By Mrs. 
 
 Belle V. Chisholm. 5x7 inches. 256 pages 75
 
 Dorothy Cope: Containing " The Old Looking-Glass " and 
 " The Broken Looking-Glass." By Maria Louisa Charles- 
 wurth ' $1 5< 
 
 The Ministering Children was a famous juvenile a generation 
 ago. The fathers and mothers of the buys and girls of to-dav 
 enjoyed it better than any other book. The two sweet stories 
 in this volume are from the same peu, and are full of the same 
 power. 
 
 MISS HOLT'S STORIES FROM HISTORY. 
 
 1. Ashcliflfe Hall. A Talc of the Last Century. By Emily 
 Sarah Holt 1 5i 
 
 The characters are English, some of them noted men 
 in the reign of Queen Anne and George 1. A wholesome 
 story well colored by history. 
 
 2. Robin Tremayne. A Tale of the Marian Persecution. By 
 
 Emily Sarah Holt 1 5( 
 
 A thrilling storv of the dark days for true Christians in 
 England under " Bloody Mary." An inspiring book. 
 
 3. Isoult Barry of Wynscote. Her Diurnal Book. A 
 
 Tale of Tudor Times. By Emily Sarah Holt 1 5< 
 
 The Diurnal (Journal) of Mistress Barry covers a stirring 
 period in the history of Great Britain. The story that runs 
 through it is as charming as the character of the noble young 
 women who wrote it. 
 
 THREE DRINKWATER BOOKS. 
 
 Written for American children by Jennie M. Drink water 
 (Mrs. Nathaniel Conkling), one of ti'ie best of our authors. 
 
 1. Not Bread Alone; or, Miss Helen's Neighbors. By 
 
 Jennie M. Drink water 1 S2i 
 
 The title suggests the religious tone of this story, but the 
 religion is of that pervading and inspiring sort which makes 
 the story stronger. 
 
 2. Only Ned; or, Grandma's Message. By Jennie M. Dr'mk- 
 
 water 1 2/ 
 
 This has the general characteristics of the Drinkwater 
 books ; a thorough knowledge of boys and girls, a lively narra- 
 tive, and a spirit of noble living. 
 
 3. Fred and Jennie; How they Learned about God. By 
 
 Jennie M. Drinkwater 1 2 
 
 These children are younger ; the style is simpler. A worthy 
 book for the junior scholars in a Sunday-school. 
 
 The Cash Boy's Trust. By Aniie M. Mitchell Payne 1 (X 
 
 The hero is a cash boy in a great city store. He has adventures 
 and misfortunes, is falsely accused and imprisoned, but comes 
 out all right in the end. 
 
 The Odd One. By Anne M. Mitchell Payne 1 ii." 
 
 " Marsjerv is nobody ; don't have her," was what the other 
 girls said when they" were going to have a party. She was 
 homely and unattractive, and even at home she wus always 
 "the "odd one." This book tells how Margery lound her 
 place.
 
 Rhoda's Corner. By Anue M. Mitchell Payne $1 25 
 
 Bhoda was one of those active girls who aie always doing 
 something. She was pretty and rich, and succeeded" in mak- 
 ing " her corner " in lite very cheerful. 
 
 Outside the Walls. By Anne M. Mitchell Payne 1 50 
 
 They were prison walls, and young Armstrong had been 
 inside them two years for stealing from his employers. The 
 struggle he had to win back a place in society amid u cold 
 shoulders " and hard hearts is the theme of this story a good 
 one to set young men and women thinking. 
 
 THE DARE TO DO RIGHT SERIES. 
 
 By Julia A. Matthews. 
 
 Stories of American life in country and town. Full of the 
 charm of life, truthful to boy and girl nature, and conveying 
 memorable lessons in conduct and character. 
 
 The nve volumes in a box 5 00 
 
 Grandfather's faith, Our Four Boys, 
 
 Giuseppe's Home, Susy's Sacrifice, 
 
 Nellie's Stumbling Block. 
 
 THE DRAYTON HALL SERIES. 
 
 By Julia A. Matthews. 
 
 The younger boys and girls of the home and Sunday-schools 
 will enjoy these books. They arc stories of peculiar power, 
 replete with incident, entertaining, and instructive. 
 
 Six volumes in a box 4 50 
 
 Lawrence Bronson, Fnmk Austin, 
 
 Christie's Grandson, Eagle Crag, 
 
 Allan Hay wood, True to His Flag. 
 
 THE WIN AND WEAR SERIES. 
 
 By Mrs. S. S. Bobbins. 
 
 The average American boy has to make his way by his own 
 efforts, and our girls develop their share of independence 
 of character. There is real profit in such narratives of hard- 
 won victory as Mrs. Bobbins always gives us. 
 
 The six volumes in a box 7 50 
 
 Win and Wear, Faithful and True, 
 
 Tony Starr's Legacy, My New Home, 
 
 Ned's Motto, Turning a New Leaf. 
 
 THE MARSHALL LIBRARY. 
 
 By Emma Marshall. 
 
 For a generation the books of Emma Marshall have been 
 popular in England and America. They are never sensa- 
 tional or extravagant, but the homelike virtues in which they 
 deal commend them to every household where children are 
 found. 
 
 The twelve volumes in a box 6 00 
 
 Between the Cliffs, Katie's Work, 
 
 Three Little Sisters, Little Primrose, 
 
 Three Little Brothers, Stellafont A bbey, 
 
 Consideration for Others, Little Peat (Gutters, 
 
 The Two Margarets, Boger's Apprenticeship, 
 
 The Two Holidays, Mattie Frost.
 
 Roughing It with Alick Baillie. By William J. Stewart. 
 
 Illustrated. ICmo $1 oo 
 
 There is a liveliness and a " go-aheacl " quality in this book 
 which will make it toothsome for an American school-boy. 
 The English lad who is its hero is thoroughly boy-like, mid 
 he has a rough-and-tumble school experience in the north 
 country. 
 
 The Happy Home. By James Hamilton, D.D. Illustrated. 
 
 Ittrno 75 
 
 These chapters were written for woiking men and women, 
 with the purpose of bring'm;r the Gospel Mid its fruits into 
 their hom^s. The hook is entertaining, but serious, and well- 
 deserving the attention of s 'ber people. 
 
 Bending Willow; A Tale of Missionary Life in the North- 
 west. By Jane Gay Fuller. Illustrated. 16rn 1 00 
 
 An Indian book of the right sort. The author has traveled 
 among the led men, and collected a large number of their 
 myths and traditions, which material gives this story of mis- 
 sionary zeal the very fragrance of the forest. 
 
 Mabel's Experience; or, Seeking and Finding. By Marion 
 
 E. Weir. Illustrated. 16mo 75 
 
 Such a book as is needed to strengthen faith and love and 
 trust. A strong, pure story for young men and women. 
 
 Cripple Dan. By Andrew Whitgift. Illustrated. 16mo 75 
 
 Seven stories of Christian work among the poor. Especially 
 appropriate at the present time, when the Church is doing more 
 than ever for city missions. 
 
 Days of Old. Three Stories from Old English History for the 
 
 young. Illustrated. 16mo 75 
 
 Three time-honored legends of Saxon England and Childe 
 Roland's battle with the Moors. From such romances many 
 children have caught their fondness for historical reading. 
 
 Faithful in Little. The Story of a Carrier Dove. By Author 
 
 of Daisy Maynard's Four Promises. Illustrated. 16mo 75 
 
 An ingenious book for children. The birds are the story- 
 tellers, and do their part very well. 
 
 Butterfly's Flights. By Mrs. S. S. Bobbins. 6 vols. 12mo. 
 
 Illustrated 4 50 
 
 Butterfly was a ten-year-old girl, and these books are the 
 record of her travels to Saratoga, Niagara, Montreal, and other 
 places in America. They are written simply enough for any 
 child, and will furnish considerable information as well as 
 entertainment. 
 
 Three Little Sisters, and Three Little Brothers. By 
 
 Emma Marshall. Two volumes in one 1 00 
 
 Stori's of English home life, but full of that lightness and 
 happiness that goes with childhood in every land. The 
 stories are complete in themselves, and the book is especially 
 appropriate for families where there are both boys and girls.
 
 Footsteps of St. Peter. Being the Life and Times of the 
 
 Apostle. By J. K. Macduff, D.D. 12mo $2 00 
 
 This is a really excellent lite of the trusted apostle Peter. 
 The author's acquaintance with the locality of the story, his 
 familiarity with the manners and customs of those times, and 
 especially his insight into Peter's character, distinguish this 
 lxx)k. 
 
 The Woodcutter of Lebanon, and the Exiles of Lu- 
 
 cerna. Bv J. R. Macdutf, D.D. 16mo 1 <>( 
 
 The scene of the first tale is laid in Palestine in the reiirn of 
 King Solomon. By means of a simple narrative it illustrates a 
 strange institution of the Hebrew state. It is followed by a 
 touching recital of the sufferings of the Waldensian Christians 
 in the fierce persecutions of 1686. 
 
 A Highland Parish. By Norman MacLeo-l, D.D. 16mo.... 7J 
 
 Dr. Norman MacLeod, the mo.-t popular Scottish preacher 
 of the century, published in Goo<l Words his Reminiscences of 
 a Highland Parish. A number of them ;ire here reprinted. 
 They are racy with the air of the glens, and sparkle with \\it 
 and anecdote. To read this book is almost to hear the old 
 story -telling doctor at his own fireside. 
 
 Stories of Vinegar Hill. By Anna B. Warner. 6 vols. Bound 
 
 in three. Illustrated. Ifimo, in box 300 
 
 They called it Vinegar Hill bc-cause the people there were 
 so hardened and soured. These stories relate to the work of 
 a Christian woman among the children of that unpleasant 
 neighborhood. Such books will do good so long as the world 
 has sour spots to sweeten. 
 
 Days at Muirhead ; or, The Lesson of Little Olive's Midsum- 
 mer Holidays. Illustrated. 16mo 75 
 
 A quiet Christian story for young girls, describing an En- 
 glish giri's vacation in Scotland, and a lesson that she learned. 
 
 Leaders of Men. A book of Biographies specially written for 
 
 youth. By H. A. Page. Illustrated. 12mo 100 
 
 The lives of nine worthy gentleman of this century, namely, 
 The Prince Consort ; Robert Dick, baker and geologist ; George 
 Moore, philanthropist; Commodore Goodenough, the Chris- 
 tian sailor' John Duncm, weaver and botanist; Samuel Gre^; 
 Dr. John Wilson, the missionary and scholar; Dr. Andrew 
 Keed, philanthropist; and Lord 'Laurence, Vict-roy of India. 
 The subjects and the style command attention. Especially 
 recommended for bovs. 
 
 Little Mother Mattie. By Mrs. Ellen Ro*s. Illustrated. 
 
 12mo 1 <") 
 
 Nine charming stories in one volume, showing the beauty 
 of Christian charity. 
 
 Clara Stanley; or, A Summer Among the Hills. Illustrated. 
 
 16mo 75 
 
 This story of a young girl's summer experience ought to in- 
 fluence it readers strongly for good.