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 LABOli AND LOVE: 
 
 uu 
 
 
 TALE OF ENGLISH LIFE. 
 
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 ( 
 
 TUCaSTOX, TOBBr. AXD WtBSOff, PBihTEIti.
 
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 AiLll 
 
 TO 
 
 MRS. ANN COLBOURN, 
 
 TIU.~ LITTLE VOLI'Ml 18 
 
 £lffcctfonntrl!> Dfoi'mlro, 
 
 IN REMEMBRANCE OF TAST DAYS CHEERED BY HER 
 
 SYMPATHY, AND AS A TRIBUTE TO THAT DISINTERESTED 
 
 BENEVOLENCE, WHICH IN THE RETIREMENT OF HUMBLE LIFE 
 
 SEEKS TO AID AND BLESS ALL WITHIN REACH 
 
 OF ITS MINISTRY. 
 
 MAY THE SPIRIT OF THE MOTHER EVER REST UPON 
 
 HER CHILDREN IN HEART AND HOME. 
 
 -L-l ! ;,<,
 
 ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 The following Bimple Sketches were intended as an 
 offering to a small liand of fellow-workers in one of the 
 Domesti.- Missions of England. A Budden removal from 
 that sphnc of action, and subsequent settlement in this 
 country, delayed their completion, and they arc now pub- 
 lished, in the bflpe that Borne, who are engaged in similar 
 labors here, may sympathize with those brave men and 
 women of the Old Land, whose devotion to the cause of 
 Human Progress rises ahove every selfish interest, and 
 whose untiring exertions in the good work they have 
 'chosen are almost unknown amid the more exciting move- 
 ments of public life. 
 
 Boston,
 
 
 
 ,Jir*
 
 I 
 
 LABOR AND LOVE: 
 
 A TALE OF ENGLISH LIFE 
 
 CIIAPTK II I. 
 
 'The sh.nlow of God wanders through Datura; hut in the pure 
 heart, in the happy home, U\-> spirit cornea ami dwells. 1 
 
 i'KtllKlUKA ISllEMGIl. 
 
 * Look, mother, I have finished my work! — 
 May I go to meel father and William?' And 
 little Charlotte Herbert held up 1W her mother*! 
 inspection a sleeve she had been sewing. Airs. 
 
 Herbert having examined it, gave her daughter 
 a smile of approval so gladsome, so loving, that 
 the child danced for very joyfulness, and spring- 
 ing into her arms kissed some tears from her 
 cheek. Charlotte knew they were tears of hap- 
 piness, and as she gazed upon that bright face, 
 felt how truly her own young heart was under- 
 stood. 
 
 ' This seam is very neatly done, Lottie.' Did 
 you find it dillicult to improve your stitches?' 
 1
 
 2 LABOR AND LOVE : 
 
 'It was rather difficult at first, mother, for I 
 could not keep the work in place, and pricked 
 my finger many times, but I remembered what 
 
 you told me about being patient and trusting, 
 and when you Looked so kindly and reminded 
 mc of working for father, I soon found out a 
 better way of doing it. 
 
 1 1 knew you would, my love! Now hasten 
 away, or father and brother will be at home 
 before you go.' 
 
 Charlotte's little Btraw hal was quickly tied, 
 and in another moment $he tripped gtiily on her 
 wa\ . 
 
 The mother's heart overflowed with gratitude, 
 for her child had been sustained in doing right; 
 and love had triumphed over selfishness. It 
 was beautiful to see with what quiet grace she 
 moved about, so busy and so happy, making their 
 
 humble dwelling not only a resting-place tor the 
 tired Laborer, bul a home lor his besl affections, 
 where the spirit mighl grow in strength and 
 purity. 
 
 When she had completed her preparations, 
 Mrs. Herbert looked around with a smile of sat- 
 isfaction. ' I think all will do very nicely.' 
 escaped her lips ; and she turned in watchful ex- 
 pectation to the window. Perhaps she did just, 
 admire its brightness, and glance with pride at
 
 A TALE OF ENGLISH LIFE. 6 
 
 the snowy curtains. William's geraniums and 
 fuchias, too, so well tended by his sister, how 
 lovely they were, with Charlotte's own lit tic- 
 rose-tree nestling among them. In the centre of 
 the pretty work-stand was an elegant vase filled 
 with choice flowers ; upon it also lay two rose- 
 buds which Charlotte said she must arrange when 
 she returned. Everything told of content and 
 happiness. The pictures that adorned the walls, 
 and even Herbert's books, so neat and prim 
 upon their shelves, appeared ready to join in the 
 welcome home. 
 
 'There she is, father!' said William, when, 
 turning round the corner of a street, he suddenly 
 discovered his sister. ' I knew she would not 
 disappoint us.' 
 
 Charlotte came running towards them, her 
 face glowing with delight, and, giving a hand to 
 each, skipped along, light and joyous as a 
 fawn. 
 
 ' See, who is watching for us, Lottie; make 
 haste. Here we are, mother! Hurrah!' And 
 William, leaping over the gate, was at his moth- 
 er's side in an instant ; then as quickly ran 
 back to admit his father and sister. 
 
 When the first greetings were over, Herbert 
 and his son looked around, their feelings calmed 
 by the chastening influence of beauty and love.
 
 4 LABOR AND LOVE : 
 
 They understood full well how much care and 
 tabor were daily exercised lor them, and would 
 fain haw spoken the thanks so deeply felt 
 'My own Mary! — • M\ dear, dear mother!' waa 
 all they could utter — and it was enough. 
 
 Each now retired to his own room, where the 
 bath and a complete change <>f clothes were 
 placed ready. 
 
 Mr-. Herbert and Charlotte busied themselvi - 
 preparing tea. And what an inviting table! 
 There was the pretty set i\\' china William had 
 purchased with part <>f his lir-t year's earnii 
 and presented to his parents on their wedding 
 da) : a vase of flowers, some of them droop- 
 ing till they almost touched a cloth white aj 
 snow ; knives and spoons, bright as hands could 
 make them : Buch delicious brown bread : such 
 butter, with a dish of ripe frail beside it that 
 looked most provokjngly tempting. In a short 
 time all was ready, and when Herbert and Wil- 
 liam made their appearance, Charlotte took up 
 the two rose-buds, and fastened them tastefully 
 
 in their clean linen eoats. 
 
 'Thank you, thank you. Lottie dear. How 
 kind and considerate you are.' And they kissed 
 her affectionately. 
 
 The little party were soon seated, and while 
 enjoying their simple meal with that keen relish
 
 A TALE OF ENGLISH LIFE. 5 
 
 always imparted by labor and exercise, they con- 
 versed in unrestrained cheerfulness; so much 
 had to be* communicated, so many inquiries to 
 be made, that all were surprised when the lime 
 usually allotted bo tin- evening repast was gone. 
 ' I think, Mary, while you and Lottie clear 
 away, William and I will go and see poor .lames 
 
 Barton. Robert told me this morning that he 
 continued very weak indeed.' 
 
 1 Do so, my dear: and perhaps yon will take 
 this jelly 1 have made for him. Lottie, too, I 
 think, has something to send.' 
 
 The little girl quietly opened the cupboard, 
 
 and lookout a small baskel of oranges; then 
 from her precious rose-tree plucked tin' only 
 flower left there, and laying it gently upon the 
 fruit, gave the basket to her father, whispering, 
 1 I bought them with the money you gave me 
 for a new bonnet ribbon, and am so glad 1 had 
 it.' 
 
 He clasped her fondly to his heart. ' God 
 bles< you, my dear child ! I am proud to be the 
 bearer of your present." 
 
 ' Good bye. mother — good bye, sister.' 'Soon 
 to return you know,' said William as he opened 
 the door. 
 
 Charlotte stood for a minute looking sifter 
 them, and then turned to help her mother, who
 
 LABOR AND LOVE: 
 
 was washing the cups and saucers. Everything 
 was soon in place, and in half an hour they were 
 all re-united. The invalid had been found much 
 better, and now this visit of mercy over, they 
 could spend the remainder of the evening with- 
 out interruption. 
 
 The young people were sometimes encour- 
 aged by their parents to converse on subjects 
 of vital import. The history of the past was 
 opened, and made familiar to their understand- 
 ings by interesting remarks and explanations. 
 Frequently would Herbert lead them in wonder 
 and admiration to the knowledge of their Crea- 
 tor's works ; now dwelling upon the exquisite 
 structure of some tiny insect, now upon the 
 form and tints of some lovely flower. Their 
 inquiries were always received with gladness, 
 and kindly answered; so that these evening con- 
 versations were eagerly anticipated and prized 
 as they deserved to be. Their father had a flute, 
 too, and it was seldom forgotten, because it gave 
 pleasure to those he loved. 
 
 This night their converse was prolonged, for 
 Charlotte had to tell how difficult she found it 
 to do many things she did not like, but which 
 sh«> knew ought to be done, and how hard she 
 had striven to overcome that evil. Then her 
 mother told how she persevered in her sewing
 
 A TALE OF ENGLISH LIFE. 7 
 
 to which she had such an aversion, at the same 
 time producing the work so neatly finished as a 
 confirmation. 
 
 Herbert's home had always been hallowed by 
 domestic worship. Now the large family Bible 
 was placed before him. Our Saviour's words, 
 ' I came not to do mine own will, but the will 
 of Him that sent me,' were read, and impressed 
 upon every heart. Then, kneeling down to- 
 gether, the husband and father offered a simple, 
 fervent prayer, in which the peculiar wants and 
 trials of each were made known. And as in a 
 deep earnest voice, the concluding thanksgiving 
 arose, these simple worshippers rejoiced in God, 
 and felt that they could never be unhappy while 
 gifted with power to do good to others, and to 
 bless both friends and enemies. 
 
 Long after "William and Charlotte had retired 
 to rest, did their parents remain in earnest com- 
 munion. It was at such times they laid out 
 plans of future usefulness, spoke in full confi- 
 dence of the events of the past day, and con- 
 sulted each other about the peculiar dispositions 
 and training of those to whom they had given 
 existence, and for whose destiny they were ac- 
 countable. At this quiet hour their own good 
 resolutions were often renewed, and divine aid 
 sought, that every holy precept given to their
 
 O LABOR AND LOVE I 
 
 children might be fully exemplified in their own 
 li\ «s. 
 
 ' We all learn so much from what is passing 
 around us,' Herbert would sometimes say, 'that 
 to teach thoroughly, we must act out true and 
 noble principles in common every-day duty, and, 
 perhaps, not talk aboal them quite so much.' 
 
 We are inclined to think he was right.
 
 A TALE OF ENGLISH LIFE. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 ' When wilt tltou save the people ? 
 Oh, God of mercy ! when ? 
 The people, Lord ! the people ! 
 Not thrones and crowns, but men ! 
 God save the people ! thine they are, 
 Thy children, as thy angels fair : 
 Save them from bondage and despair ! 
 God save the people.' 
 
 Ebes.zeii Elliott. 
 
 The large manufacturing town of Birming- 
 ham, where the Herberts resided, has long 
 occupied a prominent place in the mind of the 
 philanthropist and the Christian. There, as in 
 other similar districts of England, those units 
 of its vast population, upon whose industry its 
 eminences based, rise not to their just position 
 in social life ; nay, so degraded is the condition 
 of the majority of the sons of toil, that many 
 noble spirits who, with steadfast purpose, have 
 emancipated themselves from the bondage of 
 ignorance and its attendant evils, shun their 
 brethren, thus drawing another line of separa- 
 tion in a too much complicated scale of society.
 
 10 
 
 I, UNtll AM) LOVE : 
 
 Great efforts have indeed been made lor the 
 elevation of the people. The importance of a 
 system of national education is admitted, and 
 some ;_ r "<id has resulted from the exertions of 
 citizens and legislators. May the great work 
 go forward, free from the domination of Beet or 
 party. The necessity of Banitary improvements 
 is felt, and Bolemn questions of social polity arc 
 better understood than formerly. Hut shall a 
 
 ■ 
 
 nation look to these alone for moral and physi- 
 cal renovation.' Government may enact w i.-e 
 and good law-, and we hail the blessing; in- 
 solations may awaken men to a sense <>!' their 
 responsibilities, and the privileges they ought to 
 enjoy as members of the national family, and 
 We njoicc in such movements; schools and 
 mechanics' institute- flourish, and we would 
 multiply them ; but nearer than these we ap- 
 proach the human heart, and watching its deep 
 Workings ill the household, the SOUrCe of good 
 
 and evil seems revealed, and we arc constrained 
 to believe that ere England deserves that high 
 place --he claim- among nations, the homes of 
 her neglected children must be purified and 
 made happy. How so great a work can be 
 fully accomplished, we arc unable to determine, 
 but we do know something of a holy influence 
 pervading common life, through the example of
 
 A TALE OF ENGLISH LIFE. 11 
 
 those true patriots who could, if required, stand 
 ii|) boldly in freedom's canse ; men, who go 
 through a daily round of duties, tedious it may 
 be in themselves, but persevered in from motives 
 that give energy to labor; and, at the close of a 
 day so spent, enliven with their presence a 
 home, which the brave spirit of self-denial has 
 enabled them to furnish with objects of utility 
 and beauty; a home where love and duly reign 
 supreme, where woman'- true mis-ion is owned 
 and reverenced, and to whose altar the soul of 
 childhood turns as to its native heaven. 
 
 Such was the home of Charles Herbert; the 
 realization of those bright dreams of youth, 
 when he determined to conceal his affection for 
 Mary Fielding, till he could provide an abode 
 worthy to be shared by a being so loving and 
 gentle, and yet so strong in duly and courage- 
 ous in difficulties. And when Mary had con- 
 sented to become his wife, with what rapture 
 he listened to her, while telling him how she 
 had cherished the remembrance of her old play- 
 mate through years of absence and change, and 
 how she chose to go to service rather than 
 follow the business of a milliner, (an occupation 
 her friends considered more respectable,) in order 
 to gain a practical knowledge of household 
 economy ; and, by increasing usefulness, render
 
 12 
 
 LABOR AND LOVE 
 
 herself deserving of one who, she fondly hoped, 
 would some day claim her as his own. 
 
 The early yean oftheif married life glided on 
 
 in aninterapted tranquillity. They were Messed 
 
 with three promising children, for whose support 
 
 ' and culture thej deemed it a privilege to labor, 
 
 and for whom no privation was too severe to 
 
 be endured. J^ut their youngest hoy Edward 
 w;i- soon removed from the influence of their 
 
 love. Delicate from his birth, lie sunk under a 
 ddden attack of fever, and though the hearts of 
 
 his parents bled a1 the sacrifice, they resigned 
 him, in perfect faith, to his Father in heaven. 
 Time -jx^] on. and his memory was cherished 
 as ;i sacred trust, nor was be spoken of as 
 estranged from these dear relatives, For his -pirit 
 emed to hover around them, and whisper 
 bright hopes of the future. 
 
 William was now sixteen J a line youth, full 
 of spirit and intelligence. He had been kept at 
 school till within the last two years. His tutor, 
 one of those men. whom their pupils delight to 
 honor, had not only imparted a Large amount of 
 instruction, but awakened in the boy's mind 
 such a consciousness of mental power, such a 
 healthy desire for knowledge, as ^rave promise 
 of a lofty manhood. Charlotte had just com- 
 pleted her twelfth year, and was a miniature
 
 A TALE OF ENGLISH LIFE. 13 
 
 resemblance of her mother, whose gentle nature 
 had infused itself into the glad spirit of her 
 child, by w-hom she was worshipped with in- 
 tense affection. She undertook to instruct Char- 
 lotte in the elements of know ledge, and in those 
 domestic acquirements so essential in woman. 
 Besides this, our little friend attended an excel- 
 lent school a few hours every day, for the benefit 
 of some higher branches of study. And to crown 
 all, there was the example of parents, rich in 
 every good work. It was one of the highest aims 
 of the Herberts to educate their children truly, 
 effectually. For this end, much personal comfort 
 had to be surrendered. ]>nt were they not amply 
 recompensed ?
 
 14 LABOR AND LOVE 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 ' From ihc recesses of a lowly spirit 
 Mv bumble prayer ascends, Father hear it ! 
 i ae on the trembling wings of fear and meek: 
 Forgive its weakni 
 
 ' Who r:m r. sist thy gentle call, appealing 
 I rerj generous thought ami grateful feeling? 
 Oh ! who can heat ibe a< >■■ nta ol thy mercy, 
 
 \,ul never love thee ?' 
 
 Dh. Bowhing. 
 
 John Palmeb was a fellow-workman of Iler- 
 bert'8. Gifted alike with robusi health, both 
 thorough masters of tln-ir trade, and earning 
 the Bame amonnl of wages, yel what a differ- 
 ence in their position, what a contrast between 
 them. Often when the labors of the day were 
 closed. would Palmer appear sauntering along, 
 with a vacant countenance, uncertain whether 
 to turn into some public house or go directly 
 home. One evening he went onward with a 
 more fixed determination than usual, lor Her- 
 bert, who was untiring in his efforts to elevate 
 his brother workmen, had that morning suc- 
 ceeded in rousing Palmer's slumbering con-
 
 A TALE OF ENGLISH LIFE. 
 
 15 
 
 science, and graven upon his heart an impress 
 of love that, sinking into its mysterious depths, 
 would ere long work out a diviner life. 
 
 He soon readied a small, dirty looking house, 
 where two children were sitting on the door- 
 step. 
 
 'Where's your mother, Alice?" said he, ac- 
 costing the eldest, a bright eyed little girl, who 
 was cutting out grotesque figures in paper for 
 the amusement of her young brother. 
 
 'Just gone into Johnson's, father ! I'll fetch 
 her in a minute. You stay here Harry till I 
 come back.' 
 
 Palmer went into the house and sat down in 
 glooinv silence. Harry crept close to his father, 
 and asked him if he would stay at home and 
 show him how to make his new kite, that he 
 mighl fly it to-morrow afternoon; William Her- 
 bert having promised to take him into the fields. 
 His father consented, for he felt proud that a 
 youth like William should notice Harry. 
 
 Mrs. Palmer now made her appearance. 
 
 'Dear me, John, I wish I had known of your 
 •coming, but you're -<> uncertain, there's no 
 telling when to expect you." 
 
 'Well never mind, Jane. Make haste with 
 supper. Give me the young one, and let
 
 16 I. A 13 OR AND LOVE : 
 
 Alice fetch a jug of boor. But stay; is there 
 nothing but bread and cheese in the house?' 
 
 ' Nothing else, John. Would you like some 
 tripe from Lamb's? Hairy can go with Alice 
 and get it.' 
 
 The children being sent on i h« ■ i r errand, Mrs. 
 Palmer removed Brora the chairs and tables 
 sundry articles, tor which no place seemed to be 
 appropriated, then hastily wiping off the dust 
 With her apron, proceeded to lay the cloth, on 
 
 which spots (>( grease were very conspicuous. 
 The knives and forks, seldom cleaned more than 
 once ;i week, had a mosl IMCOUth appearanee, 
 and mark- round the handles of the drinking 
 cup- betrayed strid economy in the use of 
 water. 
 
 After these preparation-, she took the baby 
 from her husband, who went through some verj 
 limited ablutions in a small wooilen bowl kept 
 on a sink at the top ^C the cellar steps. At 
 length the children returned, and supper was 
 placed upon the table. Their meal being dis- 
 patched in a very short time. Alice went to play 
 with a neighbor's children. Jlarry reminded his 
 father of the kite, and they both set to work in 
 earnest. Mrs. Palmer having cleared the sapper 
 table, sat down to undress her little James, who 
 was soon sleeping in his cradle. She then took
 
 A TALE OF ENGLISH LIFE. 17 
 
 up some sewing, and plied her needle diligently 
 till she was disturbed by a shout of exultation 
 from Harry, who almost upsel the table as he 
 ran towards her with his new made treasure. 
 
 ' Look, mother, what a large one. Did you 
 ever see such a beauty? Father says 1 must 
 take care it don't run away with me.' 
 
 I lis mother admired the kite to his heart's 
 content, and laid it down very carefully, where 
 it might dry quickly. 
 
 ' I wish father would stay at home very, very 
 often. Don't you, mother? We should be so 
 happy.' 
 
 Without waiting for an answer, the little 
 fellow ran across the room, and drew Palmer to 
 where his wife was sitting. lie .-at down beside 
 her. 
 
 ' Now ask him. mother. I am sure he will! 
 Won't you. father ? ' 
 
 The child's appeal touched the heart of both 
 parents. They knew not what t«> say, and sat 
 in painful silence. They were shortly relieved 
 by the entrance of Alice. 
 
 Harry sprang forward, and pulling his sister 
 along till she >\ook\ in full view of his handsome 
 kite, made her examine it very closely. 
 
 'How beautiful!' said Alice, clapping her
 
 LS LABOR AND LOVE : 
 
 hands. And what a large one. Why, Harry, 
 von will never hold it.' 
 
 '"William Herbert has promised 10 help me 
 fly it to-morrow. I do so love him, Alice !' 
 
 'So do I, Harry. Ami don't you love Lottie, 
 too? Do yon know -he and her mother pas 
 me to-day. and they asked me to go and 
 them. I forgol i" tell you before, mother. May 
 
 I go some da\ .' * 
 
 ' Yes, Alice. I want to see Mrs. Herbert my- 
 self, so perhaps we can go together. But yon 
 
 must not sit up any longer. Now wish father 
 good night. 1 
 
 When the children were gone, Palmer took 
 up a newspaper, and his wife resumed her sew- 
 ing. Both were silent, tor of late, feelings had 
 rj awaloned within them at present little 
 understood, but which made them sad and 
 dissatisfied with themselves. The sewing was 
 soon put away, and the newspaper laid aside 
 unread. After musing some minutes, Mrs. 
 Palmer approached her husband, and kneeling 
 beside him, hid her face in his bosom and burst 
 into a passion of tear-. He was too much 
 moved to speak, nor did he ask the cause of 
 this unusual manifestation of sorrow. The 
 electric current of sympathy running through 
 their souls revealed their griefs. They were
 
 A TALE OF ENGLISH LIFE. 19 
 
 bowed down by a sense of duties unfulfilled, 
 opportunities for doing good slighted, alienation 
 from eaefi other and from God. They had 
 been strangers to communion with Him, and to 
 thai divine life of purity and self-sacrifi< e, which 
 alone sanctifies domestic tics and ennobles hu- 
 man love. In sorrow and humility they raised 
 their hearts to Heaven. Surely the blessing 
 promised to the penitent rested upon them. 
 
 Morning came, and with ii a bright sun- 
 shine, that shed gladness over heart and home. 
 Palmer rose earlier than usual, and called Harry 
 to take a walk with him before breakfast. In 
 the mean time Alice and her mother went 
 through their household duties in a spirit of 
 love and cheerfulness, which made all they did 
 a positive enjoyment. Their bouse, usually so 
 untidy, began to wear a look of comfort, and 
 though little improvement could be effected at 
 once, sufficient change was apparent when 
 Alice placed a chair for her father at the break- 
 fast table, and he said, looking around, — 
 
 ' How comfortable we seem this morning. I 
 think Harry and I shall do justice to this nice 
 bread and milk after our walk. Is James awake 
 yet ? ' 
 
 As if in answer, the little fellow began to cry 
 with all his might. Alice brought him down
 
 20 LABOR AND LOVE '. 
 
 stairs, and after being kissed rather more than 
 seemed pleasing to him, he remained quiet 
 while they finished their meal. 
 
 ' "When do you intend going to Herbei 
 Jane?' said Palmer, as he rose to depart. 
 'Could you manage it this afternoon? I will 
 call there after I leave work.' 
 
 'I think I can. mid Alice too. I want to Si 
 Mrs. Herberl very much. Then you will have 
 an opportunity ^\ Bpeaking to her husband as 
 you wish. And Harry had better be read) for 
 William, who will be at home earlier than 
 usual.' 
 
 These arrangements were agreed to. Alice 
 and Harry were half wild with joy. Mrs. 
 Palmer was surprised ai the ease with which 
 
 she performed her various household labor-, 
 
 even with little .lame, to be nursed and cared 
 
 for: and -he looked forward with happy antici- 
 pation to the intended visit.
 
 A TALE OK ENGLISH LIFE. 21 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 * Oh give him taste ! it is the link 
 Which hinds us to the skies — 
 A bridge of rainbows thrown across 
 
 The gulf of tears and sighs ; 
 Or like a widower's little one — 
 
 An angel in a child — 
 That leads him to her mother's chair, 
 And shows him how she smiled.' 
 
 Ebenezeb Elliott. 
 
 It was early afternoon : and Mrs. Herbert, 
 assisted by Charlotte, had cleaned the kitchen, 
 
 and was looking round their pony parlor to 
 that everything was in order, when William, 
 who had determined to make the best of his 
 holiday, came in. 
 
 ' Mother,' he said, ' I have such good news for 
 you. Mrs. Palmer is coming in about an hour, 
 and will bring all the children. Father has per- 
 suaded Mr. Palmer to join us after he leaves 
 work.' 
 
 ' I am indeed happy to hear this,' replied his 
 mother. ' Lottie, we must hasten to change our 
 dress. Have you laid out your brother's clothes ? '
 
 -»-) 
 
 LABOR AND LOVE 
 
 ' Yes, mother, everything is ready. May 
 Alice and I ero with the boys ! I should like to 
 see them fly Harry's kite, and we could gather 
 some wild flowers. Oh it would be bo delight- , 
 fill.' 
 
 ' Well, love, if Mr-. Palmer consents, I have 
 no objection; bnl we most qoI stay talking here, 
 or we Bhall not be ready t<> receive them.' 
 
 Semi the visitors arrived, and righl heartily 
 were they welcomed. It was settled that the 
 girls should accompany their brothers, and they 
 all set off after receiving >triet injunctions not to 
 
 _ el the tea hour. 
 
 Little James, who had fallen asleep, was laid 
 in Charlotte's bed, and oar two friends wire left 
 
 alone. 
 
 1 Should you like to look over the hoi 
 Jane.'' said Mrs. Herbert 'We have Buch com- 
 fortable rooms up staii .' 
 
 ' Thank yon : I should very much. "What a 
 nice little parlor this is, and how prettily you 
 have furnished it.' 
 
 ' I am glad you think bo. The furniture "was 
 chosen by my husband. These hook—helves are 
 bis own work." 
 
 ■ \xe they indeed? How neatly finished. Y.x- 
 cuse me asking, -Mary, but did it cost very much 
 to lit up this room ?'
 
 ar 
 
 A TALE OF ENGLISH LIFE. 23 
 
 ' Not a great deal. You pee the articles are 
 Bimple, and we have hut few of them. 9 
 
 4 To he sure. Let me Bee. There is the 
 centre-table, six chairs, this Little work-stand, 
 the carpet. — why this is all, besides the fender 
 and lire-irons. I though! there was much 
 more!' 
 
 Mrs. Herbert smiled and her friend went on — 
 
 • Ah, I find it is the arrangement of the things, 
 and all being so clean, thai givls the charm. 
 Those white curtains, too, and the plants, and 
 
 flowers have something 1<» do with it.' 
 
 'Indeed they have, .lane. Charles and lad- 
 mire beautiful things about as, and true beauty 
 is found in objects within the reach of most 
 people. 9 
 
 Mrs. Palmer was thoughtful for a few min- 
 utes: then glancing again at the book-she] 
 full of choice volumes, asked if Herbert read 
 much. 
 
 •lie is very fond of reading,' Mary replied, 
 'though he has little time for it. In the winter 
 evenings he often reads aloud in turn with Wil- 
 liam, while Lottie and I are busy sewing. 9 
 
 'Those must be happy hours, Mary. But do 
 let me see your kitchen and sleeping-rooms 
 before the children come hack.' 
 
 If !\Irs. Palmer was delighted with the parlor,
 
 24 LABOR AND LOVE: 
 
 the kitchen equally claimed her admiration, w ith 
 its white deal tables, and highly polished chairs; 
 a nicely painted dresser adorned with a fair 
 
 cloth, and a bright array of plates and dishes. 
 It was indeed a pattern of a kitchen, ami let us 
 whisper it to those whom it may profit, there 
 'was a place for everything, and everything in 
 
 its place.' 
 
 Mrs. Herbert now- led the way tn the Bleeping' 
 rooms. We cannol give higher praise to tl 
 than by saying, thai they were in perfect keeping 
 
 with the lower apartments. .Mrs. Palmer was 
 rather surprised to see a hath in every room, and 
 asked if they w ere often used. 
 
 1 Every morning,' replied .Mary, -and when 
 Charles and William return from work, they 
 always require one. Indeed, my husband tells 
 me thai when he comes home unusually we 
 he i- more invigorated by using his hath, than 
 after a night's rest without it." 
 
 ' Does he, really ? Well, .Mary, I honestly 
 confess I have thought you over-particular, and 
 that yon would become too proud to notice us. 
 I feel now I was mistaken, and the fault is 
 mine." 
 
 ' AVe will speak of this another time, .lane. 
 Hark! Jain, 1 - i< waking, Take him up softly. 
 There, shall we go down now .' '
 
 A TALE OF ENGLISH LIFE. 25 
 
 It was not long before the young folks returned 
 full of spirits and fun. The boys were very 
 eloquent in praise of the kite, which had af- 
 forded high gratification to them all. And such 
 an abundance of wild flowers the girls had gath- 
 ered, that their brothers were obliged to share 
 the load. As for Alice, she danced for joy al the 
 though! of taking some home, and Charlotte had 
 promised to help her to arrange the 
 
 •l)<> you always take tea bo Late?' asked 
 
 Palmer when they were seated round the table. 
 ' I could not wail past four o'clock, so Jane sends 
 mine to the factory." 
 
 ' This is rather a late hour, I own,' replied Her- 
 bert. ' Mary and I did not reconcile ourselv< 
 the habit at once, but as we never enjoy our 
 meals apart, we determined to persevere, and if 
 we are very hungry before the appointed time, 
 a -lice of bread is all-sufficient.' 
 
 'I think the plan a good one,' said Mrs. 
 Palmer. 'It is so much pleasanter to sit down 
 together, and tea is such a social meal.' 
 
 'True, Jane," added Mrs. Herbert; 'we de- 
 sire to impress upon our children that when we 
 thus meet, it is not merely for the purpose of 
 eating and drinking, but for the enjoyment of 
 each other's society, and the interchange of 
 kindly feelings.'
 
 26 LABOR AND LOVE : 
 
 ' How did you manage when your children 
 were \ ounger '. ' 
 
 ' I then gave them their bread and milk 
 early, and lei them go to bed soon after their 
 father came home. Ii adds greatly to our hap- 
 piness always to see them here, now they are old 
 enough. 5 
 
 ' Then you do nol wain supper. Why, at 
 our house there always seems most to do in the 
 evening. When I knew John is coming home, 
 I always cook meal of Borne kind: and if he 
 happens to drop in unawares, we arc all hurry 
 
 and hustle to gel ready.' 
 
 • \nd what a loss of valuable time, Jane; 
 what a neglecl of the higher gifts of Providence. 
 
 The hours are few that a working man can 
 spend with hi.- family, and I think they Bnould be 
 free !e from petty cares. But,' contin- 
 
 ued Mary, smiling, ' he will ere long he more 
 punctual, depend upon it.' 
 
 The conversation was interrupted by a merry 
 laugh among the young people. William had 
 a amusing hi- companions with some droll 
 anecdote- of hi- -chool-days, which seemed to 
 please them exceedingly. Tea being over, he 
 took them to see a little plot of ground he had 
 cultivated, with the help of Charlotte, who took 
 at pride in all that gratified her brother.
 
 A TALE OF ENGLISH LIFE. 27 
 
 ' You seem sad and thoughtful, John,' said 
 Herbert, drawing his chair close to where his 
 Mend was sitting.' 
 
 ' I do feel troubled, Charles, and regret that I 
 have been so reserved with you. If I had under- 
 stood you better, I might have been a different 
 man.' 
 
 ' Well, speak not of the past. Let as look to 
 the future, and strive to live in it nobly.' 
 
 'With the help of God I will,' said Palmer 
 solemnly. 'And you, do forgive all my rudeness 
 and unkind treatment, when I fancied yon must 
 in •( ids be proud because you took a larger house, 
 and it looked so handsome and comfortable. I 
 did not then know these things were the reward 
 of so much industry and self-denial.' 
 
 ' No more of this, my friend. Our agreement 
 is, that you begin at once to pursue the same 
 course in the use of the same means. I am to 
 give you all the help I can.' 
 
 'Thanks — thanks, Charles. This will be a 
 memorable day to me. Every word you said 
 yesterday is engraven on my heart. Had you 
 not spoken out then, I might have left you to- 
 night envious of your happiness.' 
 
 Mrs. Herbert now came forward, and laying 
 her hand upon her husband's shoulder, asked him 
 to remember the first day of next month.
 
 2$ LABOR AND LOVE : 
 
 ' It is our Edward's bilth-day,' said Herbert, 
 turning to his friend. 'We always keep it in 
 company with those very dear to ns. Let us 
 now include you among them; and the chil- 
 dren of course. Mrs. Palmer, I know you will 
 not object. 5 
 
 ' We shall indeed be happy to come. How 
 beautifu] so to remember the dead.' 
 
 1 Can we do otherwise. Jane ? Edward is not 
 Losl to us, though removed from our care, ffia 
 
 life is Hill a reality and a blessing.' 
 
 'You must tench us to love him, too, Mary. 
 
 Did William and Lottie grieve much for his 
 loss?' 
 
 'It was a heavy Borrow to them when they 
 first parted from the dear brother they loved 
 bo well. Lottie especially fell the bereavement, 
 for during his illness she anticipated his wants 
 with a solicitude akin to mine ; and many were 
 the selfish pleasures she cheerfully resigned t'o 
 
 nurse and tend him.' 
 
 .Mr-. Herbert's voice faltered, but she soon 
 resumed her composure, and continued — 
 
 ' My dear Jane, it is by visitations such 
 ihe>e. we are awakened to a true knowledge of 
 OUT relation to each other both in life and death. 
 and Learn the full value of a 1 rusting heart." 
 
 ' Yes,' added her husband, ' the pure spirit
 
 A TALE OF ENGLISH LIFE. 
 
 29 
 
 fades from mortality, but still dwells in the 
 hearts where it was first cherished, to unite them 
 eternally in God.' 
 
 ' And do not we, dear Charles, fee] this 
 blessed Influence every hour V said Mary. 'It 
 has so sanctified our affection, and realized to us 
 the nearness of heaven.' 
 
 ' Would that we could all realize it, 1 said 
 Palmer. ' But how few possess this faith. God 
 grant that I ana mine may not remain long 
 strangers to its influence.' 
 
 ' You will not, indeed, you will not, my 
 friend,' returned Herbert, grasping his hand 
 with earnestness. 'Believe me, it is only the 
 contrite, humble soul that is prepared for its 
 reception. Alas! Christianity, though widely 
 professed, is so far removed from our daily in- 
 tercourse, that few of us rec gnise its existence, 
 except as something foreign to daily life and 
 .duty.' 
 
 ' It could never be separated from these, my 
 husband, if we did but draw near enough to 
 Christ to imbibe a portion of his spirit; and 
 ever think of him as :i loving friend, always 
 ready to sympathize in our joys, our sorrows and 
 temptations ; aye, in the most humble duty we 
 have to perform.' 
 
 This interesting conversation was prolonged
 
 30 LABOR AND LOVE : 
 
 to rather a late hour for the children, who had 
 meanwhile amused themselves with some dis- 
 sected maps and puzzles. 
 
 Unwillingly reminded of the lapse of time, 
 Palmer and his wife prepared lor iheir departure. 
 The Mends separated with mutual blessings, 
 and promises of continued intercourse in the 
 future. 
 
 i
 
 A TALE OF ENGLISH LIFE. 
 
 31 
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 1 Unskilful he to fawn or seek for power 
 By doctrines fashioned to the varying hour ; 
 Far oilier aims his heart had learnt to prize, 
 More bent to raise the wretched than to rise.' 
 
 Goldsmith. 
 
 Our scene changes to a green lane in the 
 suburbs of Birmingham. A pleasant retired place, 
 
 shaded by trees, whose overhanging branches, 
 spread i Pig from either side, form a noble arching, 
 through which the lover of nature may pursue 
 his walk, sheltered from the noon-day sun, or in 
 the twilight of evening find that quiet so often 
 longed for by the meditative mind. A few 
 modest dwellings at intervals enliven the land- 
 scape, and well-cultured gardens around them 
 bespeak the industry of the occupants. At the 
 time of our narrative, one pretty cottage might 
 always be known by its excessive cleanliness, 
 and superior taste evinced in the arrangement of 
 the flowers and shrubs, which greeted every 
 passer-by with their beauty and fragrance.
 
 32 LABOR AND LOVE : 
 
 One lovely evening in Jane, when nature's 
 self seemed hushed in repose, a merry laugh 
 suddenly broke upon the stillness; and presently 
 from this same cottage door, issued a boy, appa- 
 rently about eight years of age, followed by a 
 beautiful girl just merging into womanhood. 
 The loud Laugh of the boy told the freedom of a 
 glad spirit, unstained by artifice or fear; while 
 the gentler tones of his companion, as she heart- 
 ily joined, seemed its very echoes. An elderly 
 gentleman, who sat at an open window, enjoy- 
 ing the sport, presently let loose a Large spaniel, 
 who scampered after the brother and sister round 
 the garden, barking as loudly as a i\o;j; could be 
 expected to do who was thus privileged. After 
 a long nice, with the help of Victor, the young 
 girl succeeded in capturing her brother. He, in 
 playful retaliation, drew a Large comb from her 
 hair, which (lowed around Imt in wild confusion. 
 Then they laughed again, and papa laughed 
 too. and Victor barked louder than ever, finally 
 jumping through the parlor window. Ellen and 
 George made their entrance by the door, in a 
 most disorderly manner, throwing a shower of 
 rose leaves over their papa. 
 
 'Look at Nelly, dear papa,' said George, 'is 
 she not pretty now?' and with an arch look he 
 held up the comb in triumph. ' Do see how 
 pretty she looks.' VtW'' 
 
 t *
 
 A TALE OF ENGLISH LIFE. 33 
 
 The fond father might well be pardoned if he 
 did look upon her with proud admiration in his 
 glistening eye. Her dark brown hair, falling 
 gracefully over her shoulders, half veiled a face of 
 that spiritual kind of beauty, so difficult to de- 
 scribe, but always so impressive. An artist might 
 have criticised her features and pronounced them 
 irregular; but the soul that shone out from those 
 deep, loving eyes, and played in smiles, about a 
 mouth from which never came an unkind word, 
 shed around her a bright halo, that blessed all 
 who came within her sphere. George greatly 
 resembled his sister, though his face had a more 
 restless expression, and revealed a love of adven- 
 ture and daring beyond his years. Any one who 
 gazed upon the group, would at once know the 
 relationship they bore to each other. Mr. Ar- 
 nold's features were so like those of his children, 
 yet were cast in a true manly mould, and sub- 
 ' dued by past suffering. 
 
 'Saucy boy,' said the sister, 'you owe me 
 an hours work in my garden. Look for it 
 to-morrow, or no more romping for the remain- 
 der of the week.' An hour's work in Nelly's 
 garden was often a penalty for. these acts of 
 mischief. 
 
 ' Sister,' said the boy, ' I was afraid when 
 mamma and brothers went to IJeaven, and we 
 3 *
 
 
 w 
 
 31 LABOR AXD LOVE: 
 
 came to live here, thai we should be very dull, 
 at lcasl that I should have no one to play with ; 
 but though you arc grown a woman, you love a 
 game with little George; and yet, sister dear,' 
 he continued* as he twined his arms about her 
 neck, -1 believe you play with me sometimes 
 when you had rather be sewing or reading.' 
 
 She wished him to think differently, but would 
 not deceive him. Her looks admitted the truth 
 of what he said. 
 
 'I knew it. — I knew it. Dear, dear Nelly, 
 how I love you for this. 1 must try more than 
 ever to be good.' 
 
 1 My son,' said Mr. Arnold. ' it not for you 
 alone that your sister surrenders her own wishes. 
 You know when I resigned the living I form- 
 erly held our income was greatly reduced, and 
 we were obliged to limit our expenses. Then 
 Nelly took upon herself pari of the household 
 worlc. and gave up some of her favorite studies, 
 to make our home more beautiful and happy; 
 and that she mighl help me in my labors among 
 the poor and ignorant.' 
 
 'Dearest papa,' rejoined Ellen, 'what are the 
 sacrifices I have made, compared with the noble 
 disinterestedness of your own conduct, in not 
 only renouncing wealth, but the society of which 
 you were so bright an ornament, even exposing
 
 m 
 
 A TALE OF ENGLISH LIFE. 35 
 
 yourself to slander and misrepresentation, thai 
 you might be one with the despised jtW(1 lowly? 
 Speak not* of me,' she added with enthusiasm, 
 'but to teach me to labor with you more effectu- 
 ally, and to cultivate a more fervent spirit.' ' 
 
 ' Papa,' said George, '' I want to do some- 
 thing for you. Is there anything a little boy 
 can do ? ' 
 
 ' Many Things,' replied Mr. Arnold with an 
 encouraging smile. ' But it is now growing late 
 Call Susan in to prayers. You have sat up 
 beyond your usual time.' 
 
 How sweetly sounded the evening hymn in 
 their secluded home. How pure the worship of 
 such loving hearts. As the good pastor invoked 
 a blessing on his children, and the faithful do- 
 mestie who had clung to them in every change, 
 the presence of those, whose voices once joined 
 in their devotions, was felt, — the loved ones 
 long since passed from mortal vision were re- 
 membered there. 
 
 Before they parted for the night, .Air. Arnold 
 told his daughter that he wished her to accom- 
 pany him on the morrow to the house of a 
 highly esteemed friend. 
 
 ' His name is Herbert, my dear, one of those 
 true-hearted men who ennoble their station, and 
 who would, I believe, were they more numerous,
 
 36 LABOR AND LOVE : 
 
 redeem tteir country. I wish there were many 
 Herberts™ 
 
 ' Let n> labor in hope, and depend upon it the 
 nnmbei will increase. We shall succeed iii our 
 efforts, dear papa, I know we shall. Surely you 
 cannot doubt it.' 
 
 ' Bless you. my child, for your earnest faith. 
 The work i- God's and must proper, Good 
 night, dearest.' 
 
 ' Good night, papa.' 
 
 English life! What a Labyrinth is presented 
 to our view, as winding with difficulty through 
 its varied mazes, we endeavor to find some path 
 
 ling t" clearer pro-peel-. -.'MM' el i line nee, 
 
 whence we may truly survey this L r reat mystery 
 of humanity. 
 
 • mused ('lenient Arnold, when leaning from 
 his window in the brighi moonlight, he became 
 unconscious even of the glorious scene upon 
 which he had been gazing, as blending with his 
 higher nature, it inspired new desires of use- 
 fulness and loftier aspirations for the elevation 
 of mankind. Day after day did this noble man 
 labor in the good cause ; nighl after nighl were 
 his meditations renewed, when all around was 
 still, and heavenly messages were borne upon 
 the breeze to the open and waiting soul. At this 
 solemn time he felt more than ever the nearn 
 of Deity, and bowed reverently to the divine influ-
 
 A TALE OF ENGLISH LIFE. 
 
 37 
 
 ence and will. There lay the secret Af his suc- 
 cess. His greal work was nurtured m solitude, 
 by devour* contemplation, and intimate com- 
 munion with the great Source of all good. 
 -Trusting in a higher Power, he carried into daily 
 duty ;i mighty spirit of love, a zeal that never 
 yielded to difficulty or opposition. 
 
 This night, his mind wandered with unusual 
 rapidity through the intricate mazes of society: 
 now rejoicing amid the brighl flowers with which 
 love and truth adorned many a happy home- 
 stead; now mourning over divided hearts, and 
 dwellings uncheered by the hallowed lighl of 
 affection ; where Paith and Duty lay trampled 
 in the dust, and tie- young spirit, crushed in its 
 earliest endeavors soughl in vain for sympathy 
 to guide it onward. He felt how the whole 
 social system was affected by these influent 
 how even the character of a nation received the 
 impress of its homes. The spirit of the good 
 pastor was stirred within him as he reflected 
 upon haughty pride oppressing the poor, i 
 and affluence closing man's heart against his 
 brother: how toiling thousands struggled on, un- 
 cultured and unfed; how the vicious lived on 
 unreclaimed, because unforgiven and uncared 
 for; and he bowed his head in penitence and 
 pity for erring, suffering man. He longed for
 
 38 LABOR AND LOVE : 
 
 power tojuveep these evils from the earth, but 
 trusted in uod to raise up, in his own good time, 
 a race of men who should work out the mighty 
 change, in the name of Him whose laws were 
 graven on their hearts. When Clement Arnold 
 thought of his own limited Bphere of action, and 
 the immense power o( evil in the world, he was 
 bewildered and cast down; l>nf as the whisper- 
 ing breeze conveyed to his soul tidings of the 
 greal Fathers love to his children, of the divine 
 germs enshrined in every human form, the 
 worth of his Labor of love was understood and 
 acknowledged. 
 
 He lav down to rest in peace, with the ele- 
 ments of a new undertaking in his mind for the 
 welfare of his beloved people.
 
 A TALE OF ENGLISH LIFE. 39 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 ' True piety is cheerful as the ilay.' — Cuv. per. 
 
 ' Children, let the graces of childhood elevate our souls, and purify 
 us of all contamination of anger, and wrath, an I hastiness in your 
 education. May your love animate our hearts, ami refresh our 
 spirits, that we may not grow weary in the duties of our office. 
 
 Pes i'alozzi. 
 
 Next morning Ellen Arnold rose with the 
 lurk. Gay as that joyous bird, and bright as the 
 mora itself, she went through her early duties. 
 Her face wore an expression of unusual impor- 
 tance, for she had much to do in the house, and 
 many calls to make, before she could accompany 
 her father. Soon after her work was finished, 
 she Idled a small basket with ripe fruits, and 
 other little delicacies, and made. up a parcel of 
 books ; then tying on a neat straw bonnet, orna- 
 mented with a wreath twined by George, kissed 
 her father and gave the basket to her brother, 
 who was often her companion on these excur- 
 sions. The walk was delightful in itself, but
 
 40 LABOR AND LOVE ! 
 
 their chief pleasure was derived from the good 
 to v\ Inch il w as made subservient. 
 
 'Let us call ai Mrs. Mason's first, GeoTge. I 
 am bo anxious about Little Frederick.' 
 
 They approached the door which was already 
 open. A. little girl, who sat there sewing, rose 
 to receive them. 
 
 ' How is your brother, Sally?' asked Ellen 
 as they entered ihe house. 
 
 ■ 
 
 'Thank you, ma'am ; be is so much better 
 that the doctor says he may comedown stairs 
 
 to-day. Jle is very weak, luit I may BOOH take 
 
 him out iu the fresh air, and then he will grow 
 strong again. I'll nin and call mother.' 
 
 Mrs. Mason booh appeared and Ellen followed 
 her up etairs. They returned in ;i few minute-, 
 having left the Little invalid in a refreshing sleep. 
 
 'II does indeed -eeln fast improving,' ob- 
 served Ellen. ' I have brought another glae 
 jelly for him. and will send something nourishing 
 during the day. But I must not forget this book 
 tor Betse) .' 
 
 The child received it with an intelligent smile 
 that told how highly she valued the gift, as she 
 modestly thanked her kind leaci 
 
 • Nelly,' said George as they left the hou 
 ' you are like one of those Bisters of mercy 
 
 papa read about the other day, only not quite bo
 
 A TALE OF ENGLISH LIFE. 41 
 
 serious. It don't seem natural or right to look 
 gloomy when we are happy. Do you think so, 
 Bister ? ' * 
 
 'Not gloomy, George, certainly, though we 
 may sometimes appear very serious.' 
 
 ' Then how is ii thai Miss Moreland, Mr. 
 Woodward and his wife, and Mr. and Mrs. 
 Sharpe look and speak so solemnly?' 
 
 'I cannol tell ; perhaps they are no! happy.' 
 
 'But they must be happy, sister, for Susan 
 
 they profess religion and teaeh it to 
 others.' 
 
 Profess^ indeed, rose to Ellen's lips, but she 
 checked herself. She was puzzled how to an- 
 swer, and determined to refer George to her 
 
 father. 
 
 They had nol proceeded far before they met 
 Miss Moreland, who had been attending the 
 school established by Mr. Arnold for the poor 
 'children o( the district. 
 
 ' Good morning, Miss Arnold. I am glad to 
 meet you, for I want your sympathy and assist- 
 ance." 
 
 ' I shall be happy to render any service in my 
 power.' rejoined Ellen. * lias anything partic- 
 ularly unfortunate occurred ?' 
 
 ' Npt exactly. I have met with very disre- 
 spectful treatment, most ungrateful treatment,
 
 1 2 LABOR AND LOVE : 
 
 from those low people and their children, — 1 
 mean the Bartons.' 
 
 'What have they done, Miss Moreland? You 
 will at least forgive the children, I am sure.' 
 
 ' Why as to forgiving them, ii is hm right to 
 do so. mid I suppose 1 must. But really. Miss 
 Arnold, I cannot consenl to visit people who art' 
 not even civil, or go any longer to your school to 
 teach tinir nnk. untrained girls. If they would 
 only behave with propriety, J would not care, 
 but ii is shocking to a sensitive mind to witness 
 their conduct' 
 
 ' Then do you intend to forsake your work '.' 
 
 'I i\o, and .-hall send in my resignation to- 
 morrow. Why, with attending the day and 
 Sunday school, visiting the poor, and various 
 other labors your father thinks it our duty to 
 perform. I find no time for religious exercises.' 
 
 Ellen fell inclined to ask. whether she was not 
 about resigning some of the highest exercises of 
 religion, but thought it best to be silent, and 
 wished Miss Moreland good morning. 
 
 As .Mrs. Barton's house was in their way, Ellen 
 determined to call, and endeavor to ascertain 
 the real cause of otlence. They found the 
 mother surrounded by her little family. Three 
 of the children, who had just returned from 
 school, betrayed signs of discontent and weep?
 
 A TALE OF ENGLISH LIFE. 43 
 
 ing. The moment George and his sister entered, 
 there was a brightening np of faces, and such 
 a joyous shout of recognition as gave assurance 
 that all was not wrong. 
 
 After some conversation with Mrs. Barton, 
 Ellen turned to the children, and inquired why 
 they had been crying, and appeared so much 
 troubled when she came in. They all looked 
 ashamed and hung down their heads. ' ' Come, 
 Emma,' said she, addressing the eldest, 'let me 
 know. 1 am sure you are not afraid.' 
 
 ' Oh no, dear Miss Arnold, I love you too 
 well for that; but you will not be pleased to 
 hear.' 
 
 ' Still, Emma, it is right I should know the 
 cause.' 
 
 ' Well, ma'am, this morning I could'nt say my 
 Lesson, and Miss Moreland was very angry, and 
 called me an idle girl. She looked so dreadfully 
 at me, and made me stand in the corner of the 
 room. Then I began to feel like I used to do, 
 before you taught me how wrong it was, to wish 
 to harm those who spoke unkindly to me. I 
 threw mv book on the floor, and told her I 
 would'nf learn at all.' 
 
 ' Emma, Emma, how sad,' said her kind friend, 
 in such a tone of sorrowful reproach, that the 
 child sobbed as if her heart would break, and it 
 was some minutes ere she spoke again.
 
 44 LABOR AND LOVE ! 
 
 ' As soon as I had done it, I felt sorry, but 
 didn't like to tell Miss M oreland, for I was fright- 
 ened at her. she spoke so loud. Then she gave me 
 te verses in the Bible to learn for a task ; I 
 couldn't say them over, for I remembered how 
 good I iVlt when yon read them to ns, and 
 talked so beautifully about them. They didn't 
 in to mean the same then.' 
 
 Her voice, broken by sobs, the child with diffi- 
 culty told her simple tale, and stood completely 
 subdued before her friend, who parted from her 
 sorrowfully. Baying she would soon see her again. 
 Ellen then turned to the mother, and requested 
 her to keep the children at home for a few days. 
 till she could make some different arrangement 
 for them in the school. 
 
 ' If I might lake the liberty of making a re- 
 mark. Miss Arnold,' said Mrs. Barton with an 
 inquiring look — 
 
 ' By all mean-. Speak freely,' replied her 
 visitor. 
 
 ' Well, Miss, my husband often says he wants 
 no religion here, religious folks seem so proud 
 and severe. 1 \\<c(\ to think him right, for I 
 know many who profess to be very pious, yet 
 they never look happy, and cannot smile, or 
 laugh outright in a natural way. Then they are 
 for ever talking about their own sins, or some one
 
 A TALE OF ENGLISH LIFE. 45 
 
 else's. I never knew it do any good yet, and it 
 never will, unless they try to make people better ; 
 and whining* and finding fault is the wrong way 
 to set about it.' 
 
 Ellen signified her assent, and Mrs. Barton 
 proceeded — 
 
 ' Just what I want to say is this, Miss Arnold. 
 I have come to the conclusion that such people 
 don't know what religion means, and that you 
 and your papa do. I have thought this ever since 
 my girls went to your class in the Sunday school, 
 and you taught them to feel the good in their 
 hearts as well as the bad. and to love one another 
 better than they used to do. 1 hope you will 
 pardon my boldness, Miss; but if some persons 
 would not treat poor ignorant folk as if they 
 were altogether bad, they would make many of 
 us better.' 
 
 ' I understand it all,' said Ellen, ' and should 
 like to speak with you on this subject. I can- 
 not stay longer now, but will call again very 
 soon.' 
 
 Taking a hasty leave, she thoughtfully pur- 
 sued her walk. George had heard too much to 
 talk any more just then, and reserved his inqui- 
 ries till a future time. Many more calls were 
 made. George read to some boys who were ill, 
 while his sister was engaged with their mothers.
 
 46 L.vnou AND love : 
 
 They distributed their parcel of books among 
 Nelly's pupils, and returned home later than 
 usual, for it had been one of the mosl bus) 
 mornings in their experience.
 
 A TALE OF ENGLISH LIFE. 47 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 ' The good, the loved, are with us though they die ; 
 We think of them as angels in the sky ; 
 But the deej) firmament divides us not, 
 They're with u* in the densest crowd, and in the loneliest spot.' 
 
 1 With voice, and eye. and with the thrilling smile, 
 They answer not as they were wont erewhile. 
 But when deep yearnings all our spirits move, 
 Their spirit softly whisper us, respoasively, " We love ! " ' 
 
 S- C. E. Mayo. 
 
 The newly risen sun smiled upon the grass) 
 graves of ;t little church-yard in the neighbor- 
 hood of Birmingham. A lovely spot, where 
 faithful hearts might commune undisturbed, with 
 
 their friends of the spin! land. The church itself 
 was an antique structure, and harmonized with 
 the quiet beauty of the surrounding scene, which 
 was visited by few, save those who had some 
 dear relative reposing amid its seclusion. Many 
 of the oldest graves were deserted, time having 
 wrought out eventful changes in the lives of 
 survivors, and left few traces of the past in their 
 early home.
 
 48 LABOR AND LOVE : 
 
 There was a small grave under the shadow of 
 .some noble old trees. Around it bent a family 
 group in silent reverence. Jt was the resting- 
 place of Edward Herbert, the cherished child, 
 who still lived in the affections of the lender 
 guardians of his infant years, and whose meni- 
 ory linked their beloved home with that more 
 blissful one, to which he would welcome them 
 hereafter. 
 
 1 We have found the blessing we sought in 
 this sacred communion,' said Herbert, as they 
 tinned to depart. ' I believe we are now better 
 prepared for the social intercourse that awaits 
 us. My children strew your flowers, and fasten 
 that tender plant that is drooping for want of 
 support. Come, let us welcome our friends 
 with cheerful heart-, and show our gratitude to 
 Heaven, by loving service to them. No look of 
 gloom should over.-hadow a trust like our-.' 
 
 The home of the Herberts was, if possible, 
 brighter than usual. Charlotte and her brother 
 adorned the parlor with flowers and evergreens, 
 and furnished a summer arbor they had erected 
 close to William's tiny garden, with a table and 
 some chairs from the kitchen. They purposed 
 taking tea therewith their youthful companions, 
 for, as Charlotte observed, they could not all sit 
 comfortably in the parlor, and it would be such
 
 A TALK OF ENGLISH LIFE. 49 
 
 a treat to take tea out of doors, with the little 
 set of china father had presented to her, when 
 only eight ^ears old, and which she had treas- 
 ured so carefully, that not a piece of it. was 
 broken. And they would have Edward's chair, 
 too, and perhaps he would be with them, though 
 they could not see him. Yes, she wa - sure their 
 dead brother would remember his old home, and 
 sympathize with them this day above all others 
 in the year. 
 
 The morning hours glided .-v, iftly past. After 
 dinner. William helped his sister to put every- 
 thing in order, thai their parents might enjoy a 
 quiet hour together. To Mary and her husband 
 these were precious moments. They retraced 
 the scenes o[' their childhood, and lived again, 
 in the firsi dawn of th;it love, which animated 
 their early youth, shedding a chastened light 
 over every devious path, till its full glory was 
 revealed, when it illumined the dark night of 
 sorrow, and dispersed even the shad< ws of the 
 grave. 
 
 ' I am so glad you asked Mr. Arnold to come,' 
 said Mary. ' Of course, you did not forget 
 Miss Ellen and George." 
 
 • No, indeed, Mary, they arc both coming. I 
 think you told me Miss Arnold took especial 
 4
 
 50 LABOR AND LOVE : 
 
 notice of Alice Palmer the day they were at our 
 house/ 
 
 ' Yes, she seemed quite interested in the dear 
 child, and was much pleased with Lottie's efforts 
 to help her with her Lessons. 1 think Miss Ellen 
 will take Alice into her Bchool.' 
 
 • That would be a blessing, Mary. I am glad 
 John and his wife will meel our good minister 
 to-day. Here are the Palmers coming.' 
 
 ' Welcome, welcome, my friends,' said Her- 
 bert, as he joyfully opened the door. Mary 
 greeted them warmly, and kissed the baby as 
 she took him from his mother. 
 
 'Dear .lane. I am so happy to see you. Come 
 up stair-, and take off your bonnet. Alice, dear, 
 you will find Lottie in her room. Harry, go to 
 William ; he is in the arbor expecting you.' 
 
 So saying, Mrs. Herbert with her friend pro- 
 ceeded up staiife. Placing a chair for Mrs. 
 Palmer, Mary sat down beside her, and asked 
 whether she found her new trials in housekeep- 
 ing very tedious ? 
 
 1 Not tedious, Mary, though I confess myself 
 most awkward in many things, but by trying 
 again and again, I generally succeed in the 
 end.' 
 
 ' And find the task easier than you expected,
 
 A TALE OF ENGLISH LIFE. 51 
 
 I have no doubt, Jane. I quite long to have a 
 peep at your arrangements.' 
 
 ' You would find them rather imperfect just 
 now, but with Alice's help, I hope to make some 
 improvement every day. Really, that child sur- 
 prises me by her activity.' She flits about like a 
 busy bee, putting everything in place so neatly. 
 Why, the cupboard and pantry, that used to be 
 in such a litter, look so nice, I am loth to close 
 the door when I go to cither of them. Don't 
 you think it strange, that she should form 
 such good habits, after being so long neg- 
 lected?' 
 
 ' I believe it to be a natural result of the 
 method of training you have adopted,' replied 
 Mary. ' Had you merely told her that certain 
 duties wen- required of her, obedience would 
 have been difficult, although you continually 
 enforced it. Children acting from habit alone 
 grow mechanical, and live an unreal life.' 
 
 'Dear Mary, I have felt this in my own experi- 
 ence, for I always knew my duty, but wanted 
 that life within, which gives birth to right action. 
 You awakened conscience and disinterested 
 affection in my soul, then every day some good 
 work came into being.' 
 
 ' It is even so with us all, Jane. Conscience 
 and love must be awakened, and united in the
 
 52 LABOR AND LOVE: 
 
 soul, ere it can become the birthplace of those 
 holv resolutions, that grow into acts of benevo- 
 lence. Do you not feel strongesl in duty, when 
 moBl dependenl upon ( rod '. ' 
 
 ' I do at such times feel inspired with unusual 
 power. Wfiy, the other day, when Alice was 
 from home, there was much extra work to be 
 (lone, and 1 fell almost sinking with fatigue. A 
 cheering sense of ( rod's presence came over me. 
 I thoughl of his goodness, of raj husband'i 
 labors for as all, of the love <>f my sweet Alice, 
 and the dependence of my little ones upon my 
 care and tenderness. 1 raised my heart in prayer, 
 and through that hour of weariness, worked 
 more cheerfully than before.' 
 
 'Such trusl will be your strength in every 
 trial.* said Mary, tears of sympathy glistening in 
 her eyes. ' 1 think 1 hear Mr. Arnold's voice 
 down Btairs. Shall we go I ' 
 
 As they anticipated, they found him in the 
 parlor. Mrs. Palmer soon felt so much at ease, 
 that she could answer Mr. Arnold's kind inqui- 
 about her family, without the leasl reserve. 
 Ellen, who had been visiting the arbor, now 
 came in, and after greeting Mary and Jane, in- 
 formed the latter that she could find room for 
 Alice in her school, if agreeable to her parents. 
 
 This kind offer was thankfully accepted, and
 
 A TALE OF ENGLISH LIFE. 53 
 
 it was agreed, thai not only Alice, but Harry 
 should be admitted after the next vacation. 
 
 As evening advanced, the boys and girls drew 
 around the table in the kitchen, amusing them- 
 selves with a large scrap-book, games of ilow* 
 ers, riddles, &c. After a time these were laid 
 aside, and the sweet angel-child, whose birth 
 they held in long remembrance, became the 
 theme of discourse. Long did they speak of his 
 patience, his gentle affection, and all his win- 
 ning ways, till they almost longed to share his 
 freedom. Then they sang together beautiful 
 hymns, and songs of childhood, till the time of 
 parting drew near. 
 
 The inmates of the parlor were not Less happi- 
 ly engaged. Mr. Arnold and Herbert wished to 
 render this day memorable, by some new effort 
 for the benefit of the working men and women 
 of the surrounding district. They had both 
 deeply studied the great problems of social life, 
 and mourned over the evils they could not re- 
 move. In every public movement for the relief 
 of suffering humanity they were united, and 
 together had they solemnly pledged themselves 
 to work with steadfast, untiring vigor, for the 
 sacred rights of man. There had been times in 
 their experience, when hope almost failed them; 
 when visions rose before their view, of starving
 
 54 LABOR AND LOVE : 
 
 women, working away life in some wretched 
 garret, amid the dark alleys of London, for a 
 pittance, only sufficient to keep up the sense of 
 misery and want; or some high-souled man, 
 toiling day and night, for wages, upon which 
 his family could not, with the severest care, sub- 
 sist. Scenes like these sometimes bowed even 
 their strong spirits, because of their powerless- 
 ness to effeel a deliverance. Firm faith alone 
 supported them, as they turned their attention 
 to the evils by which they were more imme- 
 diately encompassed. 
 
 •Mr. Arnold.' said Herbert, ' I have been try- 
 ing to persuade my friend Palmer to join us in 
 our project, but he has such a modesl opinion 
 of his own ability, the task is difficult. "Will 
 you undertake it .' * 
 
 1 I think Mr. Arnold will perfectly agree with 
 me about my inability.* remarked Palmer. 'A 
 man only just rising to a true sense of manhood, 
 would be a poor instrument to teach others their 
 rights and duties.' 
 
 ' But,' said the kind pastor, taking his hand, 
 ' if I understand aright, you have not only 
 forsaken the old paths, but are making rapid 
 progress in a better way. I have proof of won- 
 derful advancement already. One question, 
 Have you the will to aid our work?'
 
 A TALE OF ENGLISH LIFE. 
 
 55 
 
 1 Heaven knows my sincerity, when I say my 
 whole heart is with yon. If I could do anything 
 to further it, my happiness would be greatly in- 
 creased.' 
 
 1 You can do much, John. Come, Herbert, let 
 us to business. With the help of your wives, 
 and my Ellen here, we may perhaps lay out a 
 plan that will lead to wondrous results.' 
 
 ' Papa,' said Ellen, ' I am growing impatient, 
 and would come to the point at <u\rc What 
 do you propose doing? And how can we 
 women help you ?' 
 
 ' You know my dear,' returned her father, 'it 
 has long been my conviction, that if the work- 
 ing classes arc to become intelligent and re- 
 spected, they must not wait to be acted upon 
 by others, but from themselves must spring the 
 high resolve, to break the fetters of ignorance 
 and oppression, by which so many of them are 
 enslaved. More prosperous men may aid and 
 encourage, but theirs must be the struggle and 
 the victory.' 
 
 ' But, papa, they are generally so powerless, 
 and insensible to their condition ! ' 
 
 ' Then be it ours, my child, in our small 
 sphere, to stir up some to action. That there 
 are great spirits among them, we have glorious 
 proof; many, too, who arc not chained down
 
 56 L.uiou am) love : 
 
 by poverty and wrong. These axe, after all, the 
 men v. e want.' 
 
 ' I think,' observed Mrs. He thai one of 
 
 our greatesl faults is, that restless desire so com- 
 mon among as, of striving to mingle only with 
 those whose position is considered superior to 
 our own. to the exclusion of old associates. 
 The working man Borely ought not to forsake 
 his fellows, if his mind becomes elevated above 
 theirs, bui rather strive to raise them too, by 
 kindly sympathy and benevolent exertion.' 
 
 *I perfectly agree with you,' returned hex 
 husband; 'and believe, thai if we were only 
 true to ourselves, we need not seek the society 
 of more intelligent and influential people ; they 
 would naturally mingle with us in perfect equal- 
 ity, and the idea of patronage would be ban- 
 ished for ever.' 
 
 • And as a prelude to such a change in this 
 district, at least, suppose we try to form our 
 societ ' •" said Mr. Arnold. 
 
 • Now papa is coming u> the point at la 
 remarked Ellen, smiling gaily at .Mrs. Herbert. 
 ' We must expect our share of work, he Knows 
 we can accomplish it so well.' 
 
 'You must prove that Nelly, before I assent 
 to it,' returned her father, at the same time look-
 
 A TALE OF ENGLISH LIKE. 
 
 57 
 
 ing as though he had never doubted her power 
 truly to perform any good work she undertook. 
 
 Mrs. Palmer, who had been an attentive lis- 
 tener while quietly nursing her babe, now drew 
 her chair nearer to Ellen, anxious to hear more. 
 
 ' What name do you purpose giving our asso- 
 ciation, Herbert ?' inquired Mr. Arnold. 
 
 ' I think the Fraternal Union would be an 
 appropriate title. Wha1 do you say, John I ' 
 
 ' Nothing could do better, in my opinion,' 
 replied Palmer. • it bo well expresses the relation 
 its members will bear to each other.' 
 
 'The very thing papa, 9 added Ellen; • \«>u 
 could not have chosen a more appropriate name 
 yourself.' 
 
 ' Now for the objects of the Union. Will you 
 state them. Sir?' said Herbert, turning to -Mr. 
 Arnold. 
 
 ' Its first great object will be. to enlighten the 
 working-man as to the real dignity of labor, and 
 the position he ought to occupy in society.' 
 
 ' How do you intend this to be done? ' asked 
 Palmer. 
 
 ' By classes for mutual instruction, by lec- 
 turer discussions, and various other means; but 
 above all, by cheerful, social intercourse, and 
 forbearance under insult and misrepresentation.' 
 
 ' And what arc we women to do, papa ? '
 
 58 LABOR AND LOVE ! 
 
 1 The highesl work of all, my love. It will 
 be for you to enshrine your best sympathies in 
 Jowly homes, to teach how the meanest olliccs 
 arc ennobled by lofty motives, how beauty and 
 refinemenl may adorn even the hnmble dwelling 
 of the laborer. Yon mnsl penetrate fearlessly 
 into the abodes of ignorance and want, reliev- 
 ing, according to your ability, the necessities of 
 the unfortunate, and sometimes, with your own 
 hand-, give practical instruction in ordinary 
 household duties. Can yon undertake all this 
 without shrinking? 5 asked Mr. Arnold, turning 
 to hi- daughter, and her two friends. 
 
 ' We ought not to think of fear in so holy 
 a work," said .Mrs. Palmer, in a subdued tour. 
 ' Any trifling assistance I can render, will only 
 be an acknowledgment of my own obligations 
 
 to those Who SOUght me OUt, and opened u new 
 
 life before me.' A- -lie -p. ike. her tearful eyes 
 were fixed on .Mary, and revealed the gratitude 
 no words could convey. 
 
 ■ 
 
 ' We must not impose much work upon Jane, 
 with a little family like hers." rejoined .Mary. 
 ' I trust we shall all do our parts ; and when our 
 number increases, the labor can be well divided, 
 and a complete system of operations organized.' 
 
 ' How would you announce our wish to form 
 this society.'" incpLiired Palmer of Mr. Arnold.
 
 A TALE OF ENGLISH LIFE. 
 
 59 
 
 'I intend making it a subject of a discourse 
 next Sunday, and, with your approval, my friends 
 will cause "some primed notices of our purpose 
 to be distributed through the district, with the 
 view of shortly calling a meeting to take the 
 whole into consideration/ 
 
 ' I have but one fear, Mr. Arnold,' said Her- 
 bert ; ' and thai is, the intrusion of any party 
 or sectarian spirit.' 
 
 ' Against this we mus1 watch and pray, Her- 
 bert, and fail not sternly to rebuke any who are 
 so presumptuous as to attempt dominion over 
 the conscience of their fellow-man. Let no such 
 be admitted into our Union. 1 know that party 
 spirit is rife, and sects are jealous of their power, 
 but this is a transient evil, that will eventually 
 be desi roved by the diffusion of Christ's spirit, 
 and more enlightened views of the universal 
 brotherhood of man.' 
 
 ' Another difficulty suggests itself to me, papa,' 
 said Ellen. ' We shall want money, and few 
 of those likely to be interested in this movement 
 are wealthy people.' 
 
 'Fear not, my dear girl ; I have faith in the rich 
 ones of the earth, as well as the poor ; and be- 
 lieve that when they see the prosperous and 
 intelligent among our working population, tak- 
 ing up the cause of their depressed brothers and
 
 GO LABOR AND love : 
 
 sisters, they will come over and help us. Few 
 among the more wealthy classes comprehend 
 the present condition of the laborer, or the high 
 position lie ought to occupy in society. It is for 
 those who have learned these lessons by expe- 
 rience to enlighten their understanding, and 
 arouse them to action.' 
 
 ' This would seem 1«» had us into politics by 
 and by,' observed Palmer. 
 
 'If by politics \<ai mean the highest duties 
 of man to man, regarded as members of one 
 great family, certainly,! replied Mr. Arnold; 
 'would that such polities were more widely 
 diffused.' 
 
 An animated conversation on the rights and 
 privileges of labor followed. Some observations 
 were made respecting details of minor impor- 
 tance: then the young people were called in; 
 a parting hymn was sung ; after which the be- 
 loved pastor invoked a blessing upon all pres- 
 ent, and fervently thanked God for the friendly 
 intercourse they had enjoyed, and for the hal- 
 lowed influences bestowed through the memory 
 of the sacred dead. The happy party soon after 
 separated.
 
 A TALE OF ENGLISH LIFE. 
 
 61 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 ' Lord ! what ofT'ring shall we bring) 
 At thine altars when we bow .' 
 Hearts, the pure unsullied spring, 
 Whence the kind affections flow ; 
 Soft compassion's feeling soul, 
 By the melting eye expressed ; 
 Sympathy, at whose control, 
 Sorrow leaves the wounded breast.' 
 
 Jane Taylor. 
 
 Far distant from the pastor's peaceful abode, 
 our attention is attracted to our of those nar- 
 row, unhealthy streets, too well known to the 
 working population of England. 
 
 Dirty, half-clad children arc. day after day, 
 wandering about in idleness, it may be joining 
 Ln some rude sport, or act or cruelty ; while 
 coarse jests are heard among them, such as 
 would crush the hopes of those ministering 
 angels of humanity, who labor for the redemp- 
 tion of these wanderers, were they not upheld 
 by a lofty Christian heroism, unconquerable as 
 their love. The houses, darkened by smoke and 
 dirt, betray the. character of the inmates, and
 
 62 LABOR AND LOVE: 
 
 tell such a history of fallen man, and degraded 
 womanhood, thai to the Buperfu ial mind the 
 presence of God would seem indeed banished, 
 and his creatures utterly forsaken. 
 
 Late one Saturday night, a young girl left one 
 of these dwellings whicb had a cleaner aspect 
 than the rest, and passed hurriedly along, carry- 
 ing a Large parcel. She looked pale and care- 
 worn, yel beauty and innocence reposed upon 
 her face. AlVr walking through several streets, 
 she came to one of the principal thorough- 
 fans, and entered a -hop. for tht' sale of ready- 
 made linen and fancy goods. After waiting 
 some time, till the shop was clear of customers, 
 the mistress came, and taking the parcel from 
 her. began to examine its contents. 
 
 • Yon have done your work well, Miss Elliott, 
 and deserve a Wetter price; but we are obliged 
 to sell so cheap, in order to compete with other 
 shop-, that I really cannot give more.' 
 
 ' Thank you. ma'am, I am quite satisfied,' 
 returned the seamstress, 'and shall be glad of 
 as much work as you can supply me with.' 
 
 1 Well, call again next week.' As Mrs. Nor- 
 ton looked into the girl's earnest face, so lovely 
 in its sorrow, her womanly sympathies were 
 aroused, and she said, kindly, ' Perhaps you 
 would like something else to do; shop-work is
 
 A TALE OF ENGLISH LIFE. 
 
 63 
 
 very unprofitable. I know a lady who wants 
 a quantity qi" plain sewing executed neatly. I 
 have not been acquainted with you long, Miss 
 Elliott, but I feel I can trust you.' 
 
 ' Indeed I will strive to prove worthy of your 
 confidence,' warmly responded the young girl. 
 1 If yon only knew my history — ' 
 
 ' Well, my child, some day we will talk about 
 it; please write down your address on this bit of 
 paper, and I will ask .Miss Arnold to call upon 
 you on Monday.' 
 
 Margaret Elliot! hesitated a moment, then in 
 a voice trembling with emotion, begged that 
 Mrs. Norton would permit her to see the lady 
 there, or at her own house. Observing the in- 
 quiring look now turned upon her, she said, 
 in explanation, 'My room is in such a neigh- 
 borhood, the lady might not like to come, per- 
 haps, from appearances, would suspect me, and 
 the people with whom 1 live are so rude to 
 
 strangere 
 
 'I see how it is,' said her kind friend, 'most 
 likely the lady to whom the work belongs would 
 be rather squeamish ; but she has requested 
 Miss Arnold to employ some one for her, and if 
 she visits you, there will be nothing to fear.' 
 
 Mrs. Norton told all she knew about her ' dear 
 good minister,' and his family, again consoling
 
 C)[ LABOR AND LOTS ! 
 
 her young friend with the assurance that she 
 need fear nothing from Miss Arnold's calling 
 aboul the work, lor Bhe was the 'dearest, sweet* 
 esi young ladj in the world.' 
 
 Comforted and hopeful, Margaret returned to 
 her lonely home. Lonely, inda d, to her, for 'h< % 
 family with whom Bhe lived regarded her with 
 contempt, because Bhe could not conform '<> 
 their habits, or listen to the ill-natured gossip of 
 her landlady. She soon reached her own room, 
 nail, meanl) furnished garret, where she 
 could commune with her boh! in peace. How 
 often in this rude asylum did poor Margaret lift 
 her hearl to God, and feel, in the trusting faith 
 bo largel) bestowed, an earaeel of a brighter 
 I'ui lire 
 
 Monday morning brought new 'anticipations 
 
 and labors. The young Bean worked in a 
 
 more hopeful spirit than usual, often pausing in 
 
 employ nun-. jhe woi \\ ould 
 
 1 her interview with Miss Arnold 
 
 She recollected all Mrs. Norton had related of 
 
 Ellen, and her hearl swelled with the intensity 
 
 of its emotions. Might she not now find a 
 
 ad, Buch as she had long prayed lor. to whom 
 
 raid freely confide her simple hi^ 
 
 and struggling aspirations after a diviner life? 
 
 rgaret toiled on through many solitary h<
 
 A TALK OF ENGLISH LIFE, 65 
 
 4 
 
 absorbed in these meditations, till at length 
 overcome l») conflicting feelings, she bowed her 
 head upon her hands, and wepl unrestrainedly. 
 She was aroused by a gentle touch, and look- 
 ing up. saw a lady bending over her, with an 
 expression of most affectionate solicitude. 
 
 A momentary glance convinced her, thai it. 
 
 was none oilier than the pastor's daughter who 
 
 looked so lovingly upon her. Rising in confusion 
 she offered a chair to her visitor, at the same 
 time asking pardon for her apparenl rudem 
 
 'It is I who should apologize, 1 replied the 
 
 lady, -for intruding upon you so abruptly; but 
 finding von did no1 hear me rap. 1 ventured to 
 enter, as the door was partially open. .Mrs. 
 Norton has spoken very highly of you. and said 
 it' I mentioned my name, yon would know r the 
 reason o\ my visit, and were probably expecting 
 me to call to-day, I am Ellen Arnold, and if 
 you will permit me — your friend. Come, sit 
 down by me.' 
 
 This wa< said with stu-h earnestness and sin- 
 cerity, the countenance oi' the speaker beaming 
 with a smile so benevolent, that Margaret felt 
 drawn towards her by an irresistible attraction., 
 
 ' Before we go to business, Margaret, I would 
 know something of your present sit nation ; not 
 to gratify an idJe curiosity, but that we may 
 5
 
 G6 LABOR AND LOYE : 
 
 I 
 
 understand each other better. Airs. Norton told 
 mr Bhe feared you were not happy in this hou« 
 
 thai the people were so ru<le and selfish, you 
 must be verj desolate. 1 
 
 • Mine is indeed a cheerless home, Mi— Ar- 
 nold. Nut I am at least peaceful in it. Tor while 
 my rent is regularly paid, no one intrudes upon 
 
 me. Yet it i- sad to feel deserted and alone in 
 this wide world.' 
 
 'Havi \ou no relatives?' asked Ellen. 'Arc 
 all — dead .' ' Bhe would have -aid. Inn her tongue 
 refused to utter the word. A look of anguish on 
 Marga/et'a face revealed the utter desolation of 
 
 the poor girl. For BOme moments they -at hand 
 
 in hand, too lnueli moved to -peak. Ellen was 
 the lir.-t to recover herself.' 
 
 • Mv dear Margaret, I understand much more 
 than you have Bpoken, and should rejoice to 
 serve yon, but <h> no - [early what is besl to 
 be doii'. There musl be some Btrange reason 
 for your living here. Would you not like a more 
 suitable residence .' ' 
 
 'Oh! what a blessing to toil for. hut it would 
 be loiu_ r . very long before 1 could earn enough to 
 free myself. Dear Mi— Arnold, there is a debt 
 owing bo large that — ' 
 
 'A debt! Your rent has been punctually
 
 A TALE OF ENGLISH LIFE. 67 
 
 | 
 
 paid, if I understand aright 1 Ellen looked at 
 her companion in surprise. 
 
 ' It is u sorrow I'ul story,' pursued Margaret, 
 'but if you will allow me to relate some inci- 
 dents i>f my pasl life, you will better compre- 
 hend my present position, which is one of 
 extreme difficulty.' 
 
 ' Tell me without reserve, my dear girl I am 
 deeply interested in your welfare. You appeal 
 young to have Buffered bo much, — younger than 
 I am certainly.' 
 
 • My seventeenth birthday has jusl passed, but 
 I often think myself older, — life passes* on so 
 heavily.' 
 
 k I hope we shall soon lighten its burdens,' said 
 Ellen, as she drew closer to Margaret, and gently 
 placing her arm round her waist, listened with 
 eagerness to the promised recital. 
 
 ' It is about ten years,' began .Margaret, ' since 
 my dear father died. Before that time I knew 
 no grief that was not easily soothed by a pa- 
 rent's love. We resided in a pretty cottage, 
 about a mile from town, my mother's excellent 
 management enabling us to live respectably, 
 with such slender means as many of our neigh- 
 bors would have thought it impossible to subsist 
 upon, for my father earned but small wages, 
 though he worked very hard. I recollect well
 
 CS LADOR AND LOVE '. 
 
 I 
 
 the pains he took to cultivate our little garden, 
 and my mother assisting him in this pleasant 
 labor, while I often stood by holding seeds, and 
 occ isionally being permitted to sow them myself. 
 Those were bright days, Miss Arnold, but they 
 were Boon darkened.' 
 
 Ellen pressed her band, and she went on — 
 ' I will not linger over these remembrances; it 
 would occupy too much time. Mv father's ill- 
 ness was sudden, ami his death SO nnlooked for, 
 that my poor mother, who was weakened by 
 watching and anxiety, never entirely recovered 
 from fche shock. Her health declined, though 
 she rallied as well as Bhe could, and tried to 
 labor on for tin- sake ^( her child. She was 
 obliged to give up her beloved home and sell 
 most of the furniture. 'Too weak t<> engage in 
 household labor, she procured some needlework. 
 and came to live in town that she might obtain 
 a constant supply. An old friend of my fethi 
 
 lived near thi- place, and kindly allowed her to 
 i<nt a room in his house for a very small sum. 
 There we lived happily, for though our abode 
 Was so dull and joyless in itself, we were all the 
 world to each other, and at last we eeased to 
 repine for the dear old home we had left. My 
 mother had been well educated, and before her 
 marriage was mistress of a village school ; she
 
 A TALE OF ENGLISH LIFE. 69 
 
 took great pains to instruct me in all she knew. 
 Often have I sat upon a little stool at her feet, 
 while she talked to me so lovingly, and awakened 
 such interest in my young mind, that I fre- 
 quently mastered my lessons before I became 
 aware she had been teaching. Dear Miss Ar- 
 nold, I cannot dwell upon her last illness, or tell 
 you how she gradually faded away, so like an 
 angel of heaven, whil<- fulfilling her mission on 
 earth. Yon have experienced a mother's love, 
 and a mother's loss, ami need not that I should 
 say more." 
 
 The feelings of the two girls were too deep 
 for tear-, too sacred for words. They sat mo- 
 tionless, encircled by a blessed influence arising 
 from these holy memories of maternal love. It 
 was long ere the spell was broken, and then 
 no more was needed to enable Ellen fully to 
 understand Margaret's eventful life. 
 
 ' There is one thing more, dear Miss Arnold. 
 The debt of which I spoke was contracted dur- 
 ing my mother's illness. Mr. Edwards, my 
 present landlord, took the house in which we 
 then boarded, my father's old friend removing 
 to a distance. Our rent was regularly met for 
 some time ; but when my poor mother's strength 
 entirely failed, all her little valuables were dis- 
 posed of, one by one. After she died, and, the
 
 70 LABOR AND LOVE : 
 
 • 
 
 funeral expenses were paid, I had nothing left 
 for the back-rent, which had been accumulating 
 to a large sum. I am now paying it off, a little 
 at a time. Mr. Edwards moved into this house 
 about a year ago, and his wife declares I shall 
 not leave till I am out of her debt.' 
 
 ' May I inquire what amount is now owing?' 
 said Ellen. 
 
 1 About three pounds,' replied Margaret. ' I 
 can only spare a .-hilling or so at a time towards 
 it; plain Bewing is so poorly remunerated, espe- 
 cially shop-work, which I am obliged to take, 
 in order to insure regular employment.' 
 
 ' Have you ever tried to obtain a situation of 
 any kind I It would be so much better than living 
 alone.' 
 
 ' There have been BO many difficulties in my 
 way- First, my stock of clothing was insulii- 
 cienl : and who would recommend a poor friend- 
 less girl like me? Then how could I satisfy 
 Mrs. Edwards ? ' 
 
 ' Forgive me,' said Ellen, ' I ought to have 
 known this. Something, however, must be 
 done. Come and see me to-morrow. Papa 
 will then be at home, and will, I am sure, be 
 happy to aid you. We can also talk about the 
 work for Mrs. Woodward.' 
 
 Taking an affectionate leave, Ellen hastened
 
 A TALK OF ENGLISH LIFE. 71 
 
 home to impart to her father her new friend's 
 touching history. She fell sure of his advice 
 and assistance, in some project, for raising Mar- 
 garet to a position where her worth would be 
 appreciated. 
 
 Next day a note was left at Mrs. Edwards', 
 for Miss Elliott. It ran as follows: — 
 
 My dear Margaret. — 
 
 Do not fail to come this evening ; I have 
 consulted papa about your affairs, and he has 
 smoothed every difficulty for us. We have long 
 felt the need of a regular teacher in our school, 
 which is now entirely dependent upon the vol- 
 untary services of ladies, interested in its pro- 
 gress. A thoroughly trained mistress we do not 
 require; but are desirous of securing the super- 
 intendence of one who can govern her pupils 
 by moral power, and who is capable of awaken- 
 ing within them force o( thought, and a spirit 
 of inquiry, that will give interest to their studies, 
 and make school the happy place it ought to be. 
 I think you are peculiarly adapted to this office. 
 Would you like to make a trial? If you need 
 improvement in any branch of knowledge, papa 
 will gladly assist you, or if I can supply aught 
 in which you may be deficient, I shall esteem 
 it a privilege. Let me know your determina-
 
 72 LABOR AM) UN r. : 
 
 tiofl soon; [shall be at borne with papa after 
 five o'clock. 
 
 \ our Binoere friend, 
 
 Ellen Arnold. 
 Woodland Cottage, 'I ly moroii 
 
 Ere many hours had passed, Margarel v 
 welcomed to the pastor's home. What a deli- 
 cious tranquillity Bbe experienced, as, seated by 
 his Bide, she imparted her willingness to submit 
 entirely to hi- guidance, and dedicate herself to 
 the graol work he bad chosen for ber. Freely, 
 
 BS a trusting child, did -he confide to him her 
 
 hopes and fears, her struggles and aspirations. 
 His Boothing word- fell upon her spirit ;i- dew 
 upon the drooping Bower, reviving the bright 
 color- of youthful hope, and invigorating its 
 fragile blossoms beneath the rich warm sunlight 
 of religion. 
 
 After a long conversation, Mr. Arnold turned 
 to his daughter, and asked if she hud spoken to 
 Margarel aboul her new abode. 
 
 • Xot yet, papa : but as she seems so much at 
 home already, 1 anticipate no objection. Could 
 you be happy to make our home yours, Mar* 
 
 n ■ i ! " 
 
 The wondering tdrl looked at father as4fl 
 daughter in turn, but was unable to reply.
 
 A TALE OF ENGLISH LIFE. 73 
 
 1 My dear child, 9 Baid Mr. Arnold, taking her 
 hand, with Ellen's, and joining them together, 
 ' you have been severely tried, and have come 
 forth strengthened and purified for the mis-ion 
 you arc destined to fulfil. Here is a sister, Mar- 
 garel : I will be a father to \ ou.' 
 
 Tin- two girle sank on their knees, and with a 
 hand on each young head as they bowed before 
 him, in a low, yel earnest voice, he blessed them 
 both a< his children. 
 
 • To-morrow,' said Ellen, as they rose. ' we 
 shall bring you home: I mean George and I. 
 You will have ;i brother, too, Margaret, and a 
 remarkable little fellow he is. How proud he 
 will be of bis new sister.' 
 
 ■ Vud take this,' said the good minister, pr< 
 
 im_r a purse into the hand of his adopted daugh- 
 ter. ' Discharge your debi to Mrs. Edwards, 
 and with the remaining money replenish your 
 wardrobe. Nay, no scruples; in future you will 
 
 he quite independent. I know our small funds 
 will not afford you an adequate -alary, bur I 
 think enough will be derived from this source to 
 clothe you respectably, besides leaving some- 
 thing for emergencies, and helping the needy. 
 The assistance you will give Ellen in the home- 
 department, will more than compensate for your
 
 /4 LABOR AND LOVES 
 
 daily support. Bo I have not made you a pen- 
 sioner, after all.' 
 
 •My friend 2 my more than father !' cried 
 Margaret, passionately, 'you have claims upon 
 my gratitude do ad of mine can ever sufficiently 
 acknowledge. I may only live to thank and 
 bless you in my labors among those to whom 
 your life is devoted. 1 
 
 \ carriage was senl for to convey her to .Mrs. 
 Edwards' lor the lasl time. She departed with 
 adieus and blessings, to which Bhe had long 
 been %stranger. Once more in her little room, 
 she packed up the Braall Btook of apparel she 
 possessed, then, with thanksgivings in her heart, 
 sank into a tranquil slumber, Buch as Bhe had 
 er known Bince in « a rl \ childhood she re- 
 
 ■ 
 
 ed in her mother's arm-. 
 4 Why, papa. I forgol all ahont Mrs. Wood- 
 ward's work.' said ESllen, after Margaret had left 
 them. ' Well. Borne one else must have it now, 
 for my dear little si>ter will have enough to do 
 in preparing for her duti< hool.'
 
 A TALE OF ENGLISH LIFE. 75 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 ' Oh, how hard it appears i" lei others alone, 
 And those with most sin often cast the lir-t stone ; 
 What in i — 1 1 1-^ we scatter where?er we | 
 Tbbughour own walls arc formed of most delicate ^l:i v -;.' 
 
 E. 1 - \ -t "ook. 
 
 A small party was assembled in Mr. Wood- 
 ward's drawing-room. Among those present, 
 were Miss Morelan/f, the only sister of Mrs. 
 Woodward, Mr. and Mrs. Sharpe, an elderly 
 
 couple, who prided themselves in an extreme 
 propriety of behavior; indeed, if we may infer 
 from their severe judgment against offenders, 
 when the vices and sufferings of the erring 
 became a theme of discourse, they musl have 
 been very proper people indeed; their daughter 
 Julia, and an orphan niece, who had been some 
 years dependent upon their bounty, and the 
 caprice of her cousin, by whom she was treated 
 as companion, or waiting-maid, according to the 
 whim of the moment. This evening Julia was 
 unusually condescending to the despised Harriet,
 
 7G i.auou and love: 
 
 for her own vanity had been gratified by the po- 
 liteness of a new acquaintance, who was exert- 
 ing himself to make the evening pass agreeably. 
 Alfred Pemberton had lately returned from a tour 
 on the continent, hia mind enlarged and strength- 
 ened, by free intercourse with the good and 
 greal of other lands, and with a heart expanding 
 under the influences of an enlightened benevo- 
 lence, awakened by the e< 'lltemplat ion of liis 
 Creator's work-. Hi- manners were exquisitely 
 refmed : but there was a dignified manliness in 
 his deportment, thai awed the superficially po- 
 lite, and revealed Bupreme contemp! for all affec- 
 tation and formality. Ho was distantly related 
 io the Woodward family, and an especial favor- 
 ite of Miss Moreland, notwithstanding what she 
 called • his Btrange notions. 9 It is probable these 
 relatives of Alfred's would not have tolerated 
 his behavior at times, for he hud a habit of plain 
 speaking, noi generally agreeable ; bnl then, he 
 was rich, ami occupied an influential position 
 in society. He hud moreover Bmch a noble bear- 
 ing, and was so eminently handsome, that, 
 Miss Moreland observed, ' he must become dis- 
 tinguished, and would add greatly to the honor 
 and dignity of the family.' 
 
 He had been describing some of the niblime 
 scenery of the Alps, and dwelt with a poet's 

 
 A TALE OF ENGLISH LIFE. 77 
 
 tongue upon those glories so faithfully pictured 
 in the sand nary of memory. The enthusiasm 
 kindled in nia soul when first beholding the 
 grandeur of those scenes, still glowed on, and in- 
 spired him with uncommon eloquence. Glancing 
 round at the faces of his hearers, he was (lulled 
 by their dull, unanswerirrg gaze : and suddenly 
 changed the subject, by turning to Julia with 
 some commonplace remark. He had not seen 
 the countenance of her cousin Harriet. If he 
 had. surely its animated, intelligent expression 
 would have encouraged him to proceed^ The 
 conversation soon became general; interesting 
 to some present, on account of the paltry gossip, 
 and personalities, of which it w;i< chiefly coin- 
 posed. During the evening Mr. Arnold was 
 spoken o(. and severely censured by Mr. Sharpe, 
 for associating upon such an equality with low, 
 vulgar people. 
 
 • Really, Mr. Arnold seems to have no proper 
 idea of the dignity of his office,' remarked WEra 
 Woodward. ' lie might be kind, and charita- 
 ble, and all that, without stooping so low as he 
 does.' 
 
 'To be sure.' rejoined Mrs. Sharpe. 'Why 
 last week he actually put on his best hat, and 
 a new pair of gloves, to visit those Herberts,
 
 78 LABOB AND LOYB ! 
 
 
 4 
 
 rose it happened t<> be some holiday of 
 
 theirs.' 
 
 • I think ii was on account of Edward's birth- 
 d:i\ ,' said II urriet, gently. 
 
 • What, that apstarl youth, who never j» 
 the leasl respect to hi- superiors ! ' 
 
 •That youth i< no upstart. :iunt.' retained 
 Harriet, warmly, * and perhaps, vlini In- mi 
 his superiors, gives them due respect. Hi- name 
 i- William. Edward In- been dead Bome yean? 
 
 • \nd they -till keep his birthday,' exclaimed 
 Miss£foreland. 'IalwayB thought the family 
 had romantic notions. And Mr. Arnold to coun- 
 tenance -u<h a foolish ait! Ellen, too. was 
 
 there, 1 presume.' 
 
 • Of course -In- v 1 Mr. W IwarcL 
 
 1 Do you suppose he would go without her? 
 Why In- makes that girl his companion and 
 adviser in almosl everything he does. It would 
 not surprise me to hear of his reading his 
 mons to her before he gave others the benefit 
 of them.' 
 
 • \n I would you believe it.' added Julia. ' -ho 
 has persuaded him to take into their home 
 
 I - L r irl. from one of the lowesl district^ in the 
 town, ^f whose character and connections no one 
 knows anything? lie has even adopted her as 
 bis daughter, and Ellen tx if having a si
 
 A TALK OF ENGLISH LIFE. 79 
 
 to love. I think Bhe might have Belected one 
 
 from her own rank in life.' 
 
 1 Perhaps Bhe is not very inferior to .Mi-- Ar- 
 nold, 1 suggested Harriet. ' I heard Mr. Arnold 
 , thai Margarel Elliot! would grace any 
 Btation, and thai he was proud of such a com- 
 panion for Ellen.' 
 
 k How like him,' said Julia, pettishly; ' I Bup- 
 he will expecl n< to associate with this 
 paragon <>l' perfecl ion.' 
 
 • hi the Bchool \ou musl at leasl acknowledge 
 her superiority, Miss Julia, for I understand she 
 is promoted io the office of Teacher.' Mr. 
 
 Woodward gave this piece of information with 
 
 assumed importance. 
 
 ( Goodness!' exclaimed Miss Moreland ; s a 
 fine teacher -he will make ! I am glad 1 sent in 
 my resignation.' 
 
 'Mr. Arnold musl be crazy,' said Mr-. Sharpe. 
 'Julia, my lose. 1 hope yon will not think of 
 attending that school again.' 
 
 1 Certainly not, mamma ! How could I sub- 
 mit to he governed by a low-bred, obscure 
 person, of whom I know nothing ?' 
 
 ' I feel half inclined to withdraw my subscrip- 
 tion, but that would appear mean, after prom- 
 ising my support to the institution,' observed 
 Mr. Sharpe.
 
 BO LABOR AND LOVK ! 
 
 • And what good would it do, papa? You 
 would only get an ill name : you know they 
 will carry on the Behool, in Bpite of every diffi- 
 culty, for Mr. Arnold bears the Largesl .-hare of 
 expenses himsekV 
 
 •(ink Mr. Woodward and I subscribe, except 
 the poor people of the congregation, It h 
 true, their separate contributions are small, but, 
 added together, they amount i<> no inconsi lera- 
 ble Bum.' 
 
 4 There lies all the mischief,' cried Mi~< More- 
 land. ' Mr. Arnold is doing what be can to raise 
 the working people above dependence on the 
 charity of others. He i- continually talking to 
 them about their rights, and telling them how 
 they may become self-reliant, and respected, and 
 that their manners should be as refined as th 
 of the highesl in the land." 
 
 'But how V inquired Mr. Sbarpe. 
 
 1 lie believes education will do much towards 
 effecting such a change, but he has some origi- 
 nal ideas about the influence of beauty on the 
 mind; indeed, I believe it one of the articles of 
 his creed, thai beautiful objects help to purify 
 the soul.' 
 
 • I know it." said Harriet: s he once told me he 
 thought these outward influences were needed 
 to preserve the harmony of our spiritual nature,
 
 A TALE OF ENGLISH LIFE. 81 
 
 and that he believed (!od sometimes purified 
 our hearts from sin. through the medium of the 
 Beautiful.' * 
 
 'Does he teach this doctrine from the pulpit?' 
 asked Mrs. Woodward. 
 
 ' Yes, ma'am,' pursued the true-hearted girl ; 
 ' he preached a mosi impressive sermon <>n this 
 very subject, last Sunday. The room was 
 adorned with flowers, and they seemed to bear 
 messages of God's love to as all. After service 
 the flowers were distributed among those poor 
 one-, who, living in the courts of a large town, 
 seldom possess any. I rejoiced and wept, to 
 see some of them kiss those treasures, which 
 appeared more holy tor the prayers that had 
 been breathed among them.' 
 
 4 These nre strange proceedings,' said .Miss 
 Moreland. 
 
 'Remarkable, indeed!' added Mr. Woodward. 
 
 ' They savor of Popery!' angrily rejoined Mr. 
 Sharpe. 
 
 ■ Highly improper!' remarked his wife. ' My 
 dear, I think you should remonstrate with .Mr. 
 Arnold, upon the impropriety of such conduct.' 
 
 'It will certainly lead either to idolatry or 
 infidelity." murmured Mrs. Woodward. 
 
 'I believe it is all Ellen's doing,' said Julia ; 
 ' she has the most silly notions, quite unfit for 
 6
 
 82 
 
 i..\i;oii .WD i.ovi: : 
 
 a clergyman's daughter; and she can persuade 
 
 her papa to aught she chooses.' 
 
 ' I wish there were more like Ellen Arnold in 
 the world, cousin Julia. 5 
 
 1 Harriet, you arc too forward in your re- 
 marks,' said Mrs. Sharpe. ' It is very improper 
 for a young girl in your position to express 
 your opinions so freely.' 
 
 ' T cannot hear Kllen Arnold, or her father, 
 slandered without resenting it, aunt ; you may 
 one day find out your mistake.' 
 
 4 Mrs. Sharpe was about to make an angry 
 reply, but meeting Alfred Pemberton's deep, 
 penetrating gaze, she checked herself, and turn- 
 ing to Miss Moreland. listened 1o a sad account 
 of that lady's sufferings, through the ingratitude 
 of ' those Bartons and their children." 
 
 During the preceding conversation Alfred 
 had preserved a strict silence, except now and 
 then surprising the company by such lacon- 
 ics as; Pshaw! — Affectation! — Hypocrisy! — 
 Jealousy! — Formalism! — Cant ! No one but 
 Harriet received them as they were meant ; the 
 resl applied them to Mr. Arnold and his daugh- 
 ter, in a manner highly gratifying to their own 
 self-love. 
 
 Actuated by sympathy with the amiable 
 Harriet, as well as to relieve himself from the
 
 A TALE OF ENGLISH LIFE. 
 
 83 
 
 intolerable gossip around him, Alfred invited her 
 to look ovct some engravings he had brought 
 from abroad. He was delighted with the pure 
 taste evinced in the remarks she made, while 
 pointing out what she considered most beauti- 
 ful. .Many of the scenes he had visited, and he 
 riveted her interest by his glowing descriptions. 
 He felt a brother's solicitude lor the welfare of 
 the orphan girl, and ventured to ask if she felt 
 happy in her present home. 
 
 Harriet hesitated, and could not immediately 
 reply. 
 
 ' Forgive me, Miss Russell,' he said. ' I know 
 it is an abrupt question, upon so slight an 
 acquaintance, but knowing the affection that 
 subsisted between you and my beloved sister, 
 during her life, 1 ventured to hope I might, in 
 some degree supply her place. When you have 
 •proved me worthy, perhaps you may honor me 
 with your confidence." 
 
 Harriet looked up into his face, and met such 
 an expression of pure benevolence, mingled with 
 manly respect, that she would have been 
 ashamed to doubt him. She frankly gave him 
 her hand, saying, ' Dear Abby often spoke of 
 you when we were together. I believe she 
 would rejoice if I trusted and loved you as she 
 did.'
 
 84 
 
 LABOR AND LOVE 
 
 ' Such trust and love would be held most 
 sacred, and guarded as one of the richest gifts 
 of Heaven.' said Alfred, as he took the proffered 
 hand. ' I hope we shall soon become, better 
 aii | u aii iled. May I call upon you frequently?' 
 
 ' Whenever yon please. I shall always be 
 happy to see you; so will Julia. She is rather 
 odd sometimes, but you won't mind that, for she 
 is not unkind at heart, only aunt does so spoil 
 her. Shall we go to my cousin, now?' 
 
 He led her to Julia, and endeavored to engage 
 that young lady in discourse ; but she was so 
 jealous of his attention to 1 farriei, whose >pirited 
 defence of the Arnold* had greatly displeased 
 her, that she sal in gloomy silence the remainder 
 of the evening.
 
 A TALK OF ENGLISH L1FK. 85 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 ' Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive them that trespass 
 against us.' 
 
 Margaret Elliott was soon settled in her 
 new home, and began her work in a right 
 earnest spirit. The lowly building, which served 
 both for a chapel and school-room, was situated 
 in a populous district, about two miles from Mr. 
 Arnold's house'. Margaret was an early riser, 
 and made a point of doing her share of house- 
 hold labor before breakfast. Her employments 
 were so well regulated, that Ellen was often 
 puzzled to know how so much was accom- 
 plished, and Margaret always ready for school 
 at the appointed hour. 
 
 Mr. Arnold had, at first, high hopes of Marga- 
 ret's success, founded on the excellent training 
 she had received from her mother. The details 
 of management, essential in a school of neglect- 
 ed, ignorant children, he knew she would easily 
 acquire, and her deep, earnest faith and love
 
 86 LABOR AND I-OVE! 
 
 gave him full confidence in her ability to accom- 
 plish the holy mission she had undertaken. 
 
 A more intimate acquaintance convinced him 
 that he had truly estimated her worth, and that 
 his fondest hopes would be realized. Vet, an 
 affectionate solicitude for the future welfare of 
 the being who shared his paternal care, was 
 mingled with the satisfaction he experienced) 
 when, day by day, he saw some rare virtue 
 unfolding. For, as her mind expanded, bright 
 rays of intellect and enthusiastic feeling allured 
 her from the regular course of study he had 
 marked out, into a world of her own creation. 
 Mr. Arnold began to reflect, whether the once 
 despised orphan might not possess the inspira- 
 tion of genius, that divine power, by which one 
 mind exercises such a vast influence over multi- 
 tudes less gifted, either to bless or to corrupt, 
 according to its improvement or abuse. He 
 determined to remain silent in his observations, 
 till time should prove whether his surmises were 
 correct, and to direct the energies of Margaret 
 to those occupations which, from a careful study 
 of her mental nature, would appear conducive 
 to a useful, happy life, and most in accordance 
 with the benignant purposes of Hiin by whom 
 every good gift is bestowed. 
 
 Harriet Russell was delighted with the new
 
 A TALK OF ENGLISH LIFE. 87 
 
 school-mistress, and would gladly have spent 
 some hours- every day in helping her. Ellen 
 gave all the time she could spare, and frequently 
 they spent whole mornings together, in this 
 delightful occupation. 
 
 It was a pleasant sight, in truth, these young 
 maidens, so pure in heart, so full of 1 rusting 
 love, so enthusiastic in duty, bending down 
 amid a group of little smiling faces, beaming 
 with intelligence, and eagerly expecting some 
 animating question, or word of encouragement 
 Angry speeches, or sullen looks, were seldom 
 known. Breathing an atmosphere of love, these 
 young flowers of humanity expanded within its 
 genial influence, till it became the very life- 
 spring of all their motives and actions. 
 
 Miss Mot-eland's resignation left Margaret 
 free to act out the dictates of her own noble 
 •nature. She was the companion of her pupils 
 in their sports ; their friend iwthe hours of sick- 
 ness and sorrow. She regularly visited their 
 homes, and gained access to the hearts of their 
 parents, by her cheerful conversation and active 
 exertions for their benefit. Did she enter a 
 house where the mother looked worn with grief. 
 or anxiety, she would gently win her confidence, 
 and try to remove the cause of trouble. If a 
 room showed signs of neglect, or ignorance of
 
 88 
 
 LABOR AND LOVE : 
 
 household economy, no rude remark escaped 
 her lips, but she would so kindly suggest 
 methods for making things more comfortable, 
 thai a change for the better was almost sure to 
 follow. Margaret had faith in human hearts, 
 and to them her appeals were made. A hus- 
 band's look of delight, his grateful affection, the 
 smile of happy childhood, the power and worth 
 of woman's devotion, these were some of the 
 motives she held forth, with an eloquence none 
 could resist. Then such surprising improve- 
 ments were wrought by some of her pupils, that 
 their mothers were full of admiration, when 
 they found what useful little handmaidens their 
 daughters became. 
 
 Both Ellen and Margaret feU particularly 
 interested in Mrs. Barton and her family. The 
 mother hail such a frank, cheerful disposition, 
 and was so affectionate in her domestic rela- 
 tions, that our young friends made her frequent 
 visits. They had the satisfaction of observing 
 a gradual improvement in the household. One 
 article of furniture after another assumed a 
 cleaner appearance. Some choice plants adorned 
 the window, where once nothing was seen but 
 a ragged curtain. The children now had cheer- 
 ful faces, and were happy as loving hearts and 
 industry could make them. Mrs. Barton herself
 
 A TALE OF ENGLISH LIFE. 89 
 
 was losing much of that harshness of manner, 
 which had so shocked Miss Moreland. Home 
 
 
 
 affections, and home duties, were invested with 
 a new charm, by woman's sympathy and 
 woman's active benevolence 
 
 One holiday afternoon, Margaret went alone, 
 to make some calls upon her scholars. She was 
 leaving the cottage of the Bartons, where she 
 had taken a beautiful fuchia Ellen had reared 
 for them ; and finding she had considerable 
 time to spare, determined to visit her old friend 
 Mrs. Norton, whom she had not seen since 
 opening school, except occasionally at meeting 
 on Sunday, when there was no opportunity for 
 conversation, It was a bright autumn day, and 
 Margaret's heart was light and gladsome, as she 
 greeted the blessed sunshine which smiled a 
 welcome wherever she went. 
 
 . Mrs. Norton's delight at seeing her was 
 unbounded ; she received Margaret with mater- 
 nal affection, and was so intent upon the change 
 in that once pale and anxious countenance, that 
 even her womanly curiosity gave way to admi- 
 ration, and it was some minutes before she 
 asked a single question ; then she must needs 
 take off the little bonnet, and make Margaret 
 sit close beside her, before she could listen to a 
 reply.
 
 90 
 
 L UtOR AND LOVK '. 
 
 ■ And in )\v, my dear child. I want to know 
 how you arc getting on; yon don'1 look aa if 
 you made any trouble of thai Bchool, notwith- 
 standing what Miss Morrland said. She told 
 me the children were bo antractable, she could 
 do nothing with them, and thai it was ridiculous 
 engage a mere baby, -he called you, foi 
 
 arduous an o!ii< 
 
 'Mis Moreland does nol know me, M 
 Norton; it is hrue I am very young, bul my 
 whole soul is in the work, and I love those poor 
 littl' i dearly, thai 1 am happiesl \\ hen 
 
 among them. I own there was, al first, some dif- 
 Itj in obtaining order. :ui<l I was obliged to be 
 ver) strict, bul knowing how much childn n are 
 governed through their affections, I tried to win 
 their confidence, and make them love me in 
 return.' 
 
 4 And how did you do ihi~, my love ! ' 
 
 1 B) striving to Uve so near to Christ thai in- 
 spirit mighl be infused into every action of my 
 life, especially in nn intercourse with tl 
 children. If the perverseness or unkindnet 
 any tempted me to anger, 1 remembered how 
 He pitied and foi and my reproof was 
 
 tempered with kindness. If a proud, defiant 
 spirir rose up in rebellion against me, I thought 
 of His all-conquering love, and through love
 
 A TALE OF ENGLISH LIFE. 91 
 
 was enabled to conquer too. Did indolence 
 threaten to enslave either teacher or pupils, and 
 lead them away from duty, the untiring labors 
 
 of Him " who went about doing :_ r <>"d, ,, inspired 
 
 die with fresh vigor, and enabled me to re- 
 animate the little minds around me. When 
 difficulties opposed <>ur progress, it was His 
 lofty disinterestedness that strengthened my 
 
 energies, and gave fresh life to the weak and 
 
 timid heart. This, dear .Mrs. Norton, is the 
 mighty power to which we owe our progress, — 
 the <letail< of its working you must come and 
 see f<>r yourself.' 
 
 'Thank yon. Margaret, I should rejoice to see 
 yon in the midst of your little (lock : no wonder 
 you have done so much, working in such a spirit. 
 I am emboldened now. to ask a further trial of 
 your love.' 
 
 ' Whai i< it ! ' said Margaret 
 
 ' Why. my dear, I wish to enlist your sym- 
 pathy for the Edwards'. 1 suppose yon have 
 heard of the poor man'- death.' 
 
 1 No, indeed,' said Margaret, quickly. ' How 
 did it happen .' They must he in sad distress.' 
 
 'I think it i- now three weeks, since little 
 Nanny Edwards came into my shop, and asked 
 me for a morsel of bread. I knew the child by 
 those heavenly blue eyes of hers, or I should
 
 02 LAnOR AND LOVE \ 
 
 not have recognised her, she looked bo worn 
 with grief and hunger. 1 gave Ix-r some food, 
 and inquired whal waa the matter. She told 
 in-- her father waa bo dangerously ill. the doctor 
 had given him up, and that they had nothing i«> 
 eat, except odd bits the neighbors gave them. I 
 packed op a few eh tries tor Nanny to take 
 home, intending to go and Bee her mother, but 
 mv Bhopwoman had left me, and I could not 
 get another just then, bo it was nearly a week 
 before I hail an opportunity of visiting them, 
 
 though I Milt to them often. Winn 1 culled, 
 
 Edwards had been dead two days.' 
 
 'How I wish 1 had known of this,' exclaimed 
 Margaret ' Had yon no mean- of Bending me 
 word ! Et might — ' Her heart was so full she 
 
 could Bay no more. 
 
 'Why, really, it did not occur to me till after 
 the funeral ; then 1 thought you were the Last 
 person in the word to apply to. they had used 
 yon BO cruelly. 1 ought 1«> have known yon 
 better, but you will forgive me, won't you?' 
 
 4 Dear .Mrs. Norton, do not talk bo; you will 
 go with nil* to Mrs. Edwards', will you not .' 
 Conic, shall we go immediately?' 
 
 Mr-. Norton did not answer, but hastened tip 
 stairs, and, in a few minutes, was ready to 
 accompany her young friend. Half an hour's
 
 A TALE OF ENGLISH LIFE. 93 
 
 walk brought them to Mrs. Edwards'. Nanny 
 saw them coming, and flew to open the door. 
 They entered, and found the mother sitting, 
 with her head bowed npon the tabic She 
 neither spoke nor moved. Two little boys were 
 playing in a corner, with some broken toys, their 
 features pinched by hunger, and their tattered 
 garment- hanging carelessly about them. 
 
 'Mother, mother, look up,' said Nanny, ' here 
 IS kind Mrs. .Norton and Miss Elliott Please 
 speak to mother, ma'am: she's been crying 
 
 almost all the lime niiee father died.' 
 
 Margaret approached the grief-stricken wo- 
 man, and bending over her, softly whispered, 
 'Come, my dear Mrs. Edwards, try to rouse 
 yourself. Friends arc- here, waiting to serve 
 you. Shall we try and do something for these 
 little ones ? ' 
 
 Tin* woman raised her head one moment, and 
 looked upon the well-remembered features, full 
 of compassion and tenderness, then, with a 
 piteous groan, buried her face in her hands and 
 sobbed convulsively. 
 
 Margaret made signs to her friend to re- 
 move the children. Nanny was dispatched to a 
 grocer's shop, to purchase provisions, and Mrs. 
 Norton took me boys out with her, for the
 
 94 LABOR AND LOVE f 
 
 purpose of ordering some coal and other neces- 
 sary comforts. 
 
 The distressed mother, and her former tenant, 
 were now alone together. It was a solemn 
 moment. All Mrs. Edwards' cruel treatment of 
 the poor girl, was fearfully visited upon her own 
 conscience, and Bhe could only look upon her 
 presenl bereavement, and Kilter woes, as judg- 
 ments for the Bevere pangs she had inflicted 
 upon Margaret, in her time of loneliness and 
 sorrow-. Awhile she remained fearfully agitated. 
 Margaret still bending over her like some 
 pitying angel, waited till this burs! of grief 
 began to subside, then kneeling down beside 
 the unhappy Bufferer, drew that bowed head 
 upon her compassionate bosom. She tried to 
 utter words {)( consolation, but the feelings 
 struggling for expression, could only be inter- 
 preted in the language of prayer, and thus she 
 spoke : 
 
 ' Heavenly Father, thou hast sent thy loving 
 angel, Death, to remove one of thy children 
 nearer to thee, it may be, because he needed h 
 higher discipline, and more immediate commu- 
 nion with thy spirit, than this world could give, 
 to purify him for thy service. As thou hast 
 thought tit to take him from this scene of trial, 
 do thou, in thy loving-kindness, speak to the
 
 A TAtE OF ENGLISH LIFE. 95 
 
 hearts of his sorrowing family. Teach the part- 
 ner of his earthly home to live in purity and truth ; 
 so may she be prepared to share with him a holier 
 dwelling-place hereafter. B\c» the dear children 
 of their love. Open their hearts for the reception 
 of Christ's holy spirit, thai they may Beek thee 
 early, and know thee as the guide of their youth. 
 Strengthen the mother's soul to exertion for her 
 little ones, and help her to lead them nearer and 
 nearer to a knowledge of thy goodness and 
 love. Be thou her friend and comforter, and 
 manifest unto her the lighl and beauty of this 
 lower world, through the domestic affections, 
 and a happy Christian life." 
 
 During this brief communion, a change came 
 over the spirit of the mourner. Her convulsive 
 sobs entirely ceased. She no longer hid her 
 face from the gentle minister "of God, who 
 sought her out in her deep sorrow, to lead her 
 within the light of His smile. Still, as an infant 
 hushed at eventide, by the music of its mother's 
 voice, did she rest in Margaret's encircling arms, 
 almost fearing to breathe, lest she should lose 
 one of those spirit tones, whose rich harmony 
 awakened kindred chords in her own deep 
 nature. After a few moments' silence, she mur- 
 mured, — 
 
 'Bless you, bless you, for this! I have not
 
 0»*i LA.BOB \M) LOTS ! 
 
 deserved such goodness, Miss Elliott! 1 cannot 
 fell vnii what 1 feel here, in my heart I have 
 n mosl cruel and sinful, oh how sinful ! ( 'an 
 you indeed forgive me ' ' 
 
 • Prom my inmost soul I <1". els I hope for 
 pardon myself. There, let it pass.' Margaret 
 continued to soothe her with words of love and 
 hope, till LVannj appeared with a basket of 
 provisions, and soon after a large sack of coal 
 was drought in: Mrs. Norton having sent it, 
 together with a quantity of tire-wood. 
 
 Mrs. Edwards was so bewildered, that she 
 could neither question ber daughter, nor thank 
 Margaret, who. with Nanny's help, sel about 
 making a fire and sweeping up tin- kitchen. 
 B ne thing like order being restored, she per- 
 Buaded Mrs, Edwards to go up >tairs. and make 
 some change in her dress. By the tine' Mrs. 
 
 Norton returned with the boys. :i comfortable 
 meal was placed on the table. 
 
 • Now, children, try and do till you can for 
 mother. Nanny, you will wish her good-bye 
 for me. and tell her -he must enjoy this nice 
 toast, because I made it. 1 will come again 
 soon, ami hope to hear of your being good and 
 kind one to another.' 
 
 ' Ciood bye, little ones,' said Mrs. Norton. 
 ' Keep the kettle boiling, and Nanny be sure to
 
 A TALE OF ENGLISH LIFE. 97 
 
 wash up bhe dishes. How nice and cheerful 
 they all Look,' continued she to Margaret, as 
 they left the house. 
 
 ' They do, indeed,' replied Margaret 'I am 
 so glad we came. Mrs. Edwards' besl feelings 
 are awakened, and T hope ere long she will be 
 changed and happy. Those dear children, too, 
 I must try i»» have (hem in our school Nanny 
 is a brighl little creature, don'1 you think so?' 
 
 'She is one of the loveliest children T ever 
 Baw, and I believe will reward yon for any 
 
 re you bestow npon her. Jim what is Mrs. 
 Edwards to do for a living 1 I can L r i\e her 
 some ne. dlework, it' Bhe sews neatly.' 
 
 ' I know she does,' answered Margaret, -and 
 I can also obtain some for her. This will help 
 h< r on awhile, with a present now and then. 
 If she prove deserving, L will ask our people to 
 hi her have the care of the chapel, and will sel 
 on foot a subscription to buy a mangle 1 for her. 
 She might also take a hoarder or two. She 
 mus1 not be lost for want of help. What a 
 good thing it would be to remove her out of 
 that neighborhood.' 
 
 Many were the plans suggested by our two 
 
 ' Mangle — A machine for smoothing linen, much used in 
 England j by the use of which many earn a subsistence. 
 7
 
 Os 
 
 LABOR AND LOVF. 
 
 friends, on their way home, Tor the benefit of 
 Mrs. Edwards and her family. .Mr. Arnold and 
 Ellen were Boon made acquainted with all thai 
 had happened, and warmly entered into Mar- 
 garet's bene* olenl projects. 
 
 A few months after, there was placed in the 
 window of a -mall, neal house, near the school, 
 a handsome card, on which was primed, ' Man- 
 gling done here.' \ clean, cheerful looking 
 woman wa- generall) busj smoothing various 
 articles of linen, or perhaps sewing diligently, 
 while two chubbj boys were playing near. 
 This was, Tor the mosl part, after Bchool hours. 
 A charming blue-eyed girl would Bing to them, 
 or help them to prepare their h - and everj 
 
 afternoon laid oul the table, as she once remark- 
 ed, ' j 1 1 - T like Miss lilliotl did. the day she found 
 her in BUCh trouble, and left as all BO happy.'
 
 A TALE OI' ENGLISH LIFE. 99 
 
 C II A P T E R XI. 
 
 ' Thank God for toil, for hardships, whence 
 Come courage, patience, hardihood; 
 And for that sad experience 
 Whi< li leaves our l os ims fl I Mood ; 
 
 Which leaves us tears for others' woe. 
 Brother in toil, respect thyself, 
 And let thy steadfast virtues show 
 That man is nobler far than pelf.' 
 
 _M \uv Howitt. 
 
 Christmas! merry, joyous Christmas, drew 
 near. — and cur friends were preparing a hearty 
 welcome for the 'good time comirj 
 
 The last few mouths had been marked by 
 singular success in the united labors of Mr. 
 Arnold and his friends. We have already 
 noticed the prog of the school, under the 
 
 managemenl of Margaret Elliott. Equal p 
 perity had rewarded the efforts of her sister 
 laborers, in their intercourse with the humble 
 and neglected of their own sex, — many a heart 
 had been awakened to a knowledge of its own 
 rich affections, — many a home had been beau- 
 tified by the cultivation of those divinest gifts.
 
 100 L \r.oi: \\D lovi: : 
 
 Mrs. Herberl was indefatigable in her exertions, 
 
 and unobtrusive, thai few, Bave 
 
 those whose daily life bore testimony to her 
 
 all-powerful ministry, knew her as more than a 
 
 devoted wife and mother, whose sympathies 
 
 re chieflj confined to tin- narrow circle of her 
 
 a household. 
 
 ' ' Imer modestly declined the office <»f 
 e had more fully prepare d herself, 
 i in arer approach to the purity of her 
 friend's life, :m<l the perfection of her domestic 
 lomy. Many were the hours Jane spenl in 
 working for M ry, to enable her to give more 
 time to the instruction of the ignorant, or nurs- 
 ing ili«' sick : and often would she make articles 
 of apparel for her to distribute among those 
 who needed Buch assistance. Palmer grew 
 proud n( Ins wife, as he witnessed, day by day, 
 some higher manifestation of ome 
 
 new proof of her d ' love. His own mind 
 
 une • ■ !■ 1 by the contemplation of her 
 worth, and the example of his friend Charles 
 bert, with whom he was now intimately 
 associated. 
 
 Wh.'ii they firsl ende I to organize tin ir 
 
 Bociety, many were attracted by its name and 
 objects, and tin* introductory meeting was 
 tolerably well attended.
 
 A TALE OF i:\r.Llsu LIFE. 101 
 
 Bui when it was explained thai none could 
 be admitted full members who were not strictlj 
 temperate in their habil - and pure in their Bocial 
 relations, and thai satisfactory testimonials must 
 be produced, a large number Bhrunk from the 
 trial. The regulations were pronounced too 
 strict and exclusive, bul Mr. Arnold and his 
 friends remained firm in their determination to 
 admit no one as a teacher among his brethren, 
 who was unprepared to illustrate by his own 
 example the truth ^\' the greal principles he 
 enforced. The classes and Lectures were open 
 to all who chose to attend; the above named 
 restrictions only applie'd to those who offered 
 their services as visitors, or instructors, or who 
 desired to aid the cause by their contributions. 
 On 1 1 1 i - last head, Mr. Arnold w pecially 
 
 firm. The resull was, that few joined the little 
 band of reformers, who. nothing daunted, went 
 on their way rejoicing, trusting in a sure pro- 
 gress ami gradual enlargement of their number. 
 
 Harriet Russell had introduced Alfred Pem- 
 berton to the Arnolds a few days after she met 
 him at the house of Mrs. Woodward. He soon 
 became warmly attached to Mr. Arnold, and 
 interested in all his undertakings. 
 
 Alfred was educated for the medical pro- 
 fession, but having inherited a large property
 
 102 labor and love: 
 
 from liis parents, who died before he had com- 
 pleted his Btudies, he was at liberty to indulge 
 the desires of his benevolent nature. Nothing 
 could 1"' : big than this vast field of 
 
 pen before him, and he bravely 
 determined to dedicate his life and fortune to 
 .-(> DOble B work. 
 
 Mr. Arnold, too, was attracted to bis young 
 friend in no common d Alfred's rare 
 
 p<>\ mind, and fervent enthusiasm, open- 
 
 ed an intercourse between them, pure and 
 elevating as the lofty purpose by which they 
 were onit< d. In the homes <>f the neglected 
 I r, by the couch of the Bick and dying, they 
 were constantly ministering to the humblest 
 wants, ch the faint h< I • ing the 
 
 >ping spirit from earth to heaven. 
 
 The classes foi mutual instruction, which had 
 ituted in cpnn i with the Fraternal 
 
 I ion, were distinguished by nnusual vigor. 
 To ili' rtment Alfred particularly devoted 
 
 himself, he v. irons of infusing into the 
 
 younger members of the iation an ardent 
 
 love of everything pure and beautiful, a true 
 sense of the worth of man apart from his out- 
 ward condition, a high estimate of labor, and 
 the n f ennobling it by a pure life. 
 
 He would patiently guide uneducated youth
 
 A TALE OF ENGLISH LIFE. 103 
 
 through the simplest elements of knowledge, 
 smoothing every difficulty, and leading his 
 pupil onward with that clearness only attain- 
 able by a master mind. He frequently took the 
 attitude of a learner, and drew from those he 
 had been teaching valuable lessons in practical 
 life, perhaps a knowledge of some branch of 
 manufacture, or an illustration of customs pre- 
 valent among those lie wished to exalt, thus 
 gaining a clearer insight into their homes and 
 hearts. 
 
 As a lecturer, his influence was immense. 
 Ciifted with vast powers of thought and original- 
 ity of com eption, he was i cabled so t<> simplify 
 the most intricate subject, that even dull, un- 
 intelligent minds were enlightened and inspired. 
 The rich music of his eloquence subdued t lie 
 coarser passions of his hearers, and awakened 
 the harmonies of their spiritual nature. His 
 ardent appeals to the highest faculties in man, 
 to his best affections, won many a wavering 
 heart to virtue. He recognised the divine in 
 humanity, and ever acknowledged the presence 
 of God even in the darkest heart. 
 
 One evening, when Mr. Arnold and his young 
 friend were seated together after a day of un- 
 remitting toil, Alfred expressed a wish to know 
 something of Charles Herbert's early history,
 
 104 LABOB AND LOVE : 
 
 for he waa deeply impressed \\ ith the nobility of 
 his i haracter, and the graceful simplicity of his 
 domestic life. Mr. Arnold was always glad of 
 an opportunity to speak i>\' one whom he so 
 highly esteemed. 
 
 • Thai m:in.' said he to Alfred, 'is our of the 
 brightesl examples of moral greatness it has 
 been my lot to mee1 with. Labor is indeed 
 exalted by such worshippers. 5 
 
 ' Yes,' added Alfred, • it" Buch men were more 
 numerous, labor, insted of being deemed only 
 fit for the illiterate and vulgar, would assume its 
 true position and become the test of superior 
 minds. When did you first become acquainted 
 with Herbert ! ' 
 
 'Soon after my settlement in the ministry. 
 He was then ith of great promise. I mel 
 
 him at the house of one of my parishioners, 
 parents were both dead, so thai he de- 
 pended solely upon his own efforts. You Know 
 how trifling an apprentice's wa{ . yet even 
 
 then he contrived to save a small Him 
 week, besides -paring something for others. 
 
 n have I known him take his dinner to 
 some poor creature who was unable to work, 
 and sit down himself to a slice of brown bread 
 and a cup of water, with such glad smiles upon
 
 A TALE OF ENGLISH. LIFE. 105 
 
 his handsome face, he seemed the very personi- 
 fication of Benevolence.' 
 
 ' One might almost wish to be poor to ex- 
 perience such blissful moments,' said Alfred. 
 'I cannot comprehend how he acquired all the 
 valuable knowledge he possesses, without neg- 
 lecting other employments.' 
 
 ' My dear friend,' replied Mr. Arnold, 'I never 
 knew T Charles neglect a single known duty; 
 and yet he found time for self-culture, I had 
 the pleasure of giving him some assistance, 
 and can testify to his uncommon industry and 
 earnestness. He generally came to me two 
 evenings a week, when I endeavored to simplify 
 and explain difficuH branches of study, and 
 gave him such on amount of mental labor as 
 would thoroughly tax hi> energies till our next 
 meeting. The hours we spent together at that 
 time are some of the pleasantest recollections 
 of my life.' 
 
 ' Happy recollections, indeed ! ' said Alfred. 
 ' To be instrumental in forming such a mind is 
 an enviable privilege. Was Herbert always 
 distinguished by that enthusiasm and deep re- 
 ligious trust which he possesses in such an 
 eminent degree ? ' 
 
 ' From my first acquaintance with him, I was 
 struck with these elements of greatness in his
 
 106 LABOR AND LOVE : 
 
 character, and encouraged their growth. All 
 my instruction was based upon this founda- 
 tion.' 
 
 ' And nobly has he improved your lessons. 
 Wha1 an independent position he has attained. 
 His home, too, how it is furnished with comforts 
 and adorned with beauty.' 
 
 ' Alfred, \ mi would have rejoiced with me had 
 yon known how (.diaries Herbert, when a very 
 young man, began to provide for a life of domes- 
 tic felicity, how many youthful pleasures he gave 
 up, that he mighl be enabled to welcome the 
 mistress of his affections to a bright and happy 
 home. I well remember once, when he had 
 ived an increase of wages, he burst into 
 my room with a jo) ind< scribable, and grasping 
 my hand within both his own, pressed it to his 
 heart, as he said with impassioned earnestness, 
 u My dear friend, T can now give you more 
 money to keep for me, I will live more frugally 
 than ever, and shall in a few years save enough 
 to make a home for my beloved Mary. She is 
 so beautiful, so good, Mr. Arnold, I would never 
 ask her to be my wife, unless I could provide 
 for her as she deserves." ' 
 
 ' Brave, noble Charles ! ' said Alfred. ' He 
 was worthy of his lovely Mary, and won her 
 soon, I doubt not.'
 
 A TALE OF ENGLISH LIFE. 107 
 
 ' He toiled diligently for five years, every 
 week bringing part of his earnings for me to 
 take care of, frequently substituting unpalatable 
 though wholesome food for a more tempting 
 meal ; practising the most rigid economy in 
 clothing, indeed in every personal expense, that 
 he might add to his little store. At the end of 
 that period, I had the happiness of uniting him 
 to the object of his devoted love. Mary proved 
 in every respect a fit companion for her excel- 
 lent husband. Such marriages truly have their 
 origin in heaven.' 
 
 ' I have no faith in any marriage,' observed 
 Alfred, 'that has not its origin in those holiest 
 affections of bur nature which are born of God. 
 A union formed by these, is eternal as their 
 source, and its full bliss can only be realized in 
 the immortal life.' 
 
 Mr. Arnold's face was turned upwards for a 
 moment, and tears gathered in his eyes as he 
 breathed silently a loved and cherished name. 
 
 After a brief silence, Alfred spoke again. 
 
 ' If I understand aright, Charles Herbert first 
 led your thoughts to a more intimate connection 
 with the working people of this district.' 
 
 ' He did. To him I am indebted for my 
 first knowledge of their condition and wants. 
 Through him came that inspiration which
 
 108 BOB A\H I.o\ 
 
 aroused me to ponsibiliti 
 
 ami enabled me cheerfoll) to renounce honors 
 ami wealth, and devote myself to the Bervio 
 ui_\ depressed brethren. I could « 1 « > this freely, 
 M-' I possessed a moderate income, which 
 placed me above pecuniar} dependence on my 
 ministerial dutii 
 
 • Maj I a-k how y>n G immenced your 
 k .' ' inquired Alfred. 
 
 • B) visiting the homes of mir people. M) 
 first attempts were m>i very successful, through 
 in_\ ignorance of man) circumstances in the 
 life of thoa I wished to benefit Here my 
 friend Herbert's knowli invaluable. 
 With hi- help 1 ■ We to penetrate into 
 many an abode when I migbl not hare 
 
 lined admission, and thus gained the m * 
 v.;ir\ experience much sooner than 1 could 1; 
 done unaided and alone. One of t»ur earl 
 efforts was the lishment of the School. 
 
 On thi felt, depended much of our suture 
 
 I -. W< loart no time in hiring om, 
 
 and in a f' v. months had th< ion of 
 
 ing marly forty Little onei abled. Ellen 
 
 took cl of them for a while, with such help 
 
 as I could render. Then I persuaded a few 
 ladies of my former co ion to aid 
 
 You know the result of that experiment. 1
 
 A TALE OF ENGLISH LIFE. 109 
 
 Alfred smiled, and inquired if John Palmer 
 had been an intemperate man before he became 
 
 changed. 
 
 ' B) no means, 1 answered Mr. Arnold. 'He 
 like manj persons \\>' in daily life, 
 
 abstaining Brora gifted with 
 
 a natural kindness of disposition thai would 
 not intentionally give pain to others, jei Living 
 for no high purpose, unconscious of his solemn 
 onsibilities ; in Bhort, dreaming awaj ex- 
 istence a- thousands do, in <lnll spiritless labor 
 
 and animal enjoj ments.' 
 
 'Such,' rejoined Alfred, 'is the life of too 
 
 many, both rich ami poor. I think these need 
 
 reformation as well as the grossly vicious and 
 intemperate, and I am rejoiced to find many 
 such entering onr Union. The effeci i>\ wo- 
 man's influence, too, is beginning to be felt 
 among us. By the bye, my relative, Mrs. 
 Woodward, canno-1 even now be broughl to 
 appreciate Miss Elliott's services in the school.' 
 
 'Why?' inquired Mr. Arnold. 
 
 'She feel- dissatisfied aboul her having lived 
 with such people as the Edwards', and will not 
 believe 1 that lofty purity of character could exist 
 unstained, when surrounded by coarseness and 
 vice.' 
 
 r is in such places,' said Mr. Arnold, 'that
 
 110 LABOR AND LOVE I 
 
 the rarest virtues arc sometimes discovered. I 
 am as conscious as any one of the great power 
 of circumstances, and of the value of good ex- 
 ample in forming character, but I know there is 
 a higher power still, dwelling in humanity ; a 
 power that often preserves sinless and beautiful 
 souls in the midst of sin and deformity. I have 
 been blamed for giving credence too easily to 
 Margaret's relation of her former life, but it was 
 not the mere words falling from her lips that 
 revealed the truth so eloquently, it was the 
 sincerity of every action, that lovely singleness 
 of heart, which is one of her brightest orna- 
 ments. Besides, Mrs. Norton knew her well, 
 and I can always rely on that good woman's 
 judgment.' 
 
 ' Mr. Arnold, it is unworthy of us even to 
 allude to such suspicions now. Miss Elliot is 
 raised far above them. I look on her with 
 feelings of reverence such as few women inspire 
 me with, and believe she will fulfil a glorious 
 destiny. Genius is enshrined in that gifted 
 mind, I am sure. Some powerful inspiration 
 alone is needed to kindle the flame and bless 
 the world with its light.' 
 
 A gentle rap at the door interrupted the con- 
 versation. It announced the return of George 
 and his sisters, who had been spending the even-
 
 A TALE OF ENGLISH LIFE. Ill 
 
 ing with Mrs. Palmer. After describing a very 
 pleasant visit, Ellen sat down to the piano and 
 played some of her father's favorite airs, ac- 
 companying them with her voice. She sang 
 with a power and expression which surprised 
 Alfred, who, until then, had no idea that the 
 simple, unassuming girl, nearly always em- 
 ployed in some humble duty, possessed a 
 thorough knowledge of the science, combined 
 with a masterly execution. She had a most 
 delicate ear, and in past days received in- 
 struction from a superior teacher. This much 
 valued acquirement was frequently exercised to 
 gladden their simple home. Her talents were 
 employed for others, and her highest reward 
 was the approval of her beloved parent. 
 
 ' You will spend Christmas day with us, 
 Alfred ? ' said Mr. Arnold, as the young man 
 xose to take leave. 
 
 ' With pleasure, my dear Sir ; and as you 
 intend holding the children's festival the day 
 after, I may be of service to you in the pre- 
 parations.' 
 
 ' Oh, yes ! Mr. Pemberton,' cried George. 
 { Papa has ordered a quantity of holly and 
 misletoe to decorate the room, and Susan says 
 no one can give directions so well as you.' 
 
 1 Indeed, George, I am afraid Susan is rather
 
 112 LABOR AND LOVE I 
 
 inl. However, I will do my best, dep 
 on it.' 
 
 'And we shall have a greal Christmas ti 
 Mr. Pemberton. Paps Bmall ones won't 
 
 answer for so many of us. Charlott 
 is making ' 
 
 'Hush, George, 5 jaid his sister, 'these are 
 secrets, yon Know, till the time com< 
 
 ' I quite forgol that, Nelly. I fell so happy I 
 wanted to tell i hing. Papa has bought 
 
 me ' 
 
 Ellen put an end to any further revelations 
 on the pari of George, by kissing him most 
 unmercifully. 
 
 • \.. . • r, T will be quiet. May I help 
 
 Mr. Pemberton all the time? ' 
 
 'That you shall.' said Alfred, ; and we will 
 arrange our plans to-morrov 
 
 George clapped his hand- for joy, and could 
 not resist running after Alfred, when he had left 
 the bouse, to remind him thai Charlotte Herbert 
 was making a beautiful present for somebody^ 
 and thai he had gained her permission to fasten 
 it on the Christmas tree.
 
 A TALE OF ENGLISH LIFE. 113 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 1 Ye who have loved each other, 
 Sister and friend and brother, 
 
 In this fast fading year ; 
 Mother, and sire and child, 
 Young man and maiden mild, 
 
 Come gather here. 
 
 ' Let sinned against and sinning, 
 Forget their strife's beginning, 
 And join in friendship now ; 
 Be links no longer broken, 
 Be sweet forgiveness spoken, 
 Under the holly-bough.' 
 
 Charles Mackay. 
 
 Mr. Arnold, who made the joys and sorrows 
 of all who were in any way connected with him, 
 his own. could take pleasure in no festivity apart 
 from his little flock. He had great faith in the 
 benign influence of joy, and strove, by every 
 means in his power, to promote cheerful inter- 
 course, and an interchange of kindly offices. 
 The great festival of Christmas offered many 
 opportunities for the cultivation of the social 
 8
 
 114 LABOR AND LOVE ! 
 
 affections, and hearts long estranged from each 
 other, were, al thai holy time, often re-united in 
 bonds of enduring love. Among the numerous 
 gatherings thai graced the Beason, Done claimed 
 so large a .-hare of interest as the children's jubi- 
 Preparations <>n an extensive Bcale were 
 made for this important event, long before its 
 arrival, and both parents and children eagerly an- 
 ticipated the pleasures in .-tore for them. This 
 '.- anniversary was Looked forward to with 
 unusual expectation, for it was whispered abroad 
 thai Alfred Pemberton was to superintend the 
 decorations, and had purchased some beautiful 
 pictures as a Christmas presenl to the society, 
 intending they Bhould adorn the walls of the 
 Bchool-house. It was also understood that Ellen 
 Arnold would have her piano removed tie re, 
 ami perhaps would sing, and play Borne tunes 
 for them to dance to. Neverwere the pleasures 
 of anticipation more fully experienced, than by 
 these simple, loving people. 
 
 At Length the much wished for day arrived. 
 It was agreed upon thai the children should 
 assemble early in the afternoon, and partake of 
 some refreshment. Afterwards, as many of 
 their parents and friends as could be accommo- 
 dated, were to join thern, when the Christmas 
 tree would be exhibited, and its load of festal
 
 A TALE OF ENGLISH LIFE. llO 
 
 gifts interchanged. Nor were they disappointed 
 
 in the decorations, which were indeed the work 
 of Alfred's own hands. Graceful festoon- were 
 hung around with rare taste and skill. At that 
 end of the room, where the teacher's desk 
 usually stood, was suspended a large and beau- 
 tiful picture, representing Christ blessing little 
 children, and underneath were the words, ' Suf- 
 fer little children to come unto me, and forbid 
 them not, for of such is the kingdom of Heaven.' 
 There were, also, several smaller paintings — 
 domestic scenes, telling of happy homes and 
 loving hearts, and portraits of some of the 
 noblest benefactors of mankind. What a bless- 
 ing is wealth, when used by iis possessor to 
 draw aside the veil which hides from mankind 
 the light and beauty of God's all-pervading 
 spirit, that they may fed themselves encircled 
 with His infinite love. 
 
 It was an exhilarating scene when the curtain 
 which concealed the Christmas tree, was raised, 
 and it stood before the children, illuminated by 
 variegated lamps, arranged so as to form charm- 
 ing devices and mottoes. Fruit, in profusion, 
 hung from its boughs of evergreen, interspersed 
 with an endless variety of toys, and tasteful 
 articles of needlework. A sudden burst of 
 applause broke forth, and it was with difficulty
 
 116 
 
 LABOR AND LOVE : 
 
 sufficient order was restored, for the ceremony 
 of exchanging presents to proceed. 
 
 Mr. Arnold and Margaret were selected to 
 preside over tin- distribution, and as one bright 
 little face after another was held np, while gifts 
 and kisses were exchanged, their faith in tin; 
 omnipotence of love gained strength, and new 
 revelations of the divine mission of Beauty 
 d< scended upon them. 
 
 At George's request, a parcel made up in 
 very delicate paper, and tied with blue ribbon, 
 was left till the last; then Alfred Pemberton 
 was asked u> read aloud a note Charlotte 
 Herberl had written. It was addressed to Mr. 
 Arnold, in the name of all the pupils, thanking 
 him for his watchful can', and expressing, in 
 simple language, their grateful sense of the 
 labors of their beloved teachere. 
 
 Ii concluded thus: 'We are so happy that. 
 Mi-> Elliott came to he our teacher; she is so 
 good and gentle we love her more than we can 
 tell, and hope she will never leave our school. 
 We venture to offer you a -mall token of our 
 gratitude, and beg our dear friends who have 
 been so kind, to accept the accompanying trifles 
 from their affectionate pupils.' 
 
 Here followed a long list of names. 
 
 The parcel, upon being opened, was found to
 
 A. TALE OF ENGLISH LIFE. 117 
 
 p 
 
 contain an exquisitely wrought purse for Mr. 
 
 Arnold, two pockei Testaments, richly bound, as 
 presents to Ellen and Harriet, and for Margaret 
 a finely braided chain, composed of some of 
 the childrens' hair, and mounted in gold. The 
 purse was made by Charlotte; this was the 
 important secrei George found it so difficull to 
 keep. A weekly subscription had been going 
 on among the children, for a long time, and 
 thej began to despair of coll< < ting a sufficient 
 sum to carry out their project, when George 
 became acquainted with the circumstance, and 
 Immediately contributed his savings to the 
 common Btock. The Little fellow had intended 
 to purchase some valuable presents lor his 
 father and si-ier, but that he thought would 
 limit the gratification of giving to himself; 
 whereas, by joining in the henevolent plans of 
 others, many hearts might be gladdened. It 
 would be difficult to determine who were most 
 blessed, the givers or the recipients of these 
 beautiful offering 
 
 Now Alfred Pemberton proposed a country 
 dance. The room was quickly cleared of 
 superfluous forms and tables. Ellen struck up 
 a merry tune, and all were soon in motion. 
 Mr. Arnold opened the dance with Margaret. 
 George would not be satisfied without Susan
 
 118 la linn \\d LOVE : 
 
 for a partner. After some trouble he found her, 
 and they took their places. The boy was proud 
 of their faithful servant, and seized every oppor- 
 tunity of showing his respecl and love to one 
 who so well merited them. 
 
 The dancing was kept up with greal spirit, 
 till Kill a was requested to sing. She complied 
 without hesitation, selecting some Christmas 
 carols, with which the children were enraptured. 
 Then they all united iii Binging their own sweet 
 hymns, that -he and Margarel had taught them. 
 Thus the evening passed away. Mr. Arnold 
 delivered a shorl address before they parted, 
 and closed with a fervent thanksgiving to the 
 benign Father of all. for the joyous hours He 
 had given them.
 
 A TALE OF ENGLISH LIFE. 119 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 ' Oh thou that in its wildest hour, 
 Hi'Nt rule the tempest's mood, 
 Send thy meek Spirit forth in power, 
 Soft on our souls to brood ! 
 
 ' Thou that didst bow the billows' pride 
 
 Thy mandate to fulfil ! 
 O, speak to passion's raging tide, 
 Speak and say, Peace, be still ! ' 
 
 Mrs. Hemans. 
 
 Time glided on, and more closely cemented 
 the friendship of Mr. Arnold and his enthusiastic 
 young friend. Alfred was a constant visitor 
 at Woodland Cottage, and was admitted so 
 freely into the confidence of the whole family, 
 that all ceremony was cast aside, and he had 
 the privilege of spending most of his leisure 
 evenings in their society. Such unrestrained 
 intercourse gradually revealed to him the vir- 
 tues and talents of the two girls, and drew forth 
 many beauties of character hitherto concealed 
 in the sanctuary of their minds. He looked up 
 to Margaret with mingled love and reverence, as
 
 120 LABOR AND LOVI. ! 
 
 to a being raised above the common weaknes 
 of humankind, who had a loftj destiny to fulfil, 
 far beyond her presenl sphere of duty, and he 
 could conceive no higher addition to her happi- 
 ness than the use of thai rich gifl of genius, 
 of whose existence he received everj daj Borne 
 new and convincing proof. Hut with far dif- 
 fer. -m feelings he regarded the gentle Ellen. 
 Her entire Belf-devotion to others, thai Bimple 
 grace which lenl Buch a charm to the humblesl 
 employment, her ingenuous hrusl thai was a 
 r to suspicion, bo won upon his heart, 
 thai it began to yield m her power, mid told 
 him how incomplete life would be without this 
 gentle being to -hare and Me— his l<>t. 
 
 With that maiik - i i n ■ • r i t \ which governed 
 all bis actions, he determined at once to disclose 
 his sentiments, and ascertain Ellen's feelings 
 towards him, thai he might, Bhould necessity 
 demand the effort, Btrive to conquer a passion 
 it would be wrong to indulge, if r- 1 1« ■ could 
 not return it, or her affections were given to 
 another. 
 
 One afternoon, when Margarel returned from 
 school, she found Mr. Arnold alone in the par- 
 lor. On inquiring for Ellen, she b&w from her 
 fatl ountenance thai something unusual 
 
 had occurred. He drew her tenderly towards
 
 A TAI.E OF ENGLISH LIFE. 121 
 
 him, saying — ; I bless God thai he lias given 
 me a second daughter, and Buch an one as my 
 Margaret 'Another now claims my darling 
 Ellen, and although it is hard to resign her, I 
 rejoice in her happiness. You will Bhare in it, 
 1 am Bure, and approve ih<' choice Bhe has 
 made. Alfred — ' 
 
 N<» Booner had he pronounced thai name, 
 than an alarming paleness overspread the fea- 
 tures of Margaret, and her trembling limits 
 refused their support ; ye1 Bhe retained her 
 senses, and. with an effort almost superhuman, 
 strove to rouse herself to endurance. A< her 
 tender guardian 1 » « - 1 1 1 over her, Bhe knew he read 
 the deep secret of her heart, and would preserve 
 it with sacred fidelity. She tried to Bpeak, hut 
 could onlj faintl) murmur — - 1 Knew not my 
 own weakness. Oh, help me through this fiery 
 trial; pray, pray for strength. 9 Supporting her 
 trembling frame, and drawing her -till closer to 
 him, he poured forth, as well as his agitation 
 would permit, a few simple word-, expressive 
 of the suffering weakness that trusted in an 
 Almighty arm for deliverance. 
 
 Since the time of her iirst introduction to 
 Alfred. Margaret had fondly cherished his image. 
 True, she indulged no idle dreams of love, and 
 never connected with her thoughts of him any
 
 1 22 LABOR AM) LOVE ! 
 
 distincl impressions of partiality i<> herself: l»ut 
 he was so far elevated above men in general, 
 and Bbe bad enjoyed such free intercourse -with 
 him, that In- unconsciously became the centre 
 of attraction round which her purest hopes and 
 holiest aspirations revolved. The germs of great- 
 ness in her bou] derived their nutriment from 
 his sympathy and culture. By the riches of hi* 
 gifted mind her knowledge had been increased, 
 ami her intellect expanded, till he seemed 
 blended with her very existence. In her young 
 and anient imagination, he had lived almost 
 an object of worship. Deceived by this idolatry, 
 she knew not the Bpell that bound her, till the 
 startling truth l>ur-i forth through tin- sudden 
 intelligence of Ellen's engagement. Then the 
 high-souled Margaret, so strong in spirit, bo -elf- 
 reliant, till -he appeared raised almost above 
 human frailties, found herself the victim of a 
 -ion. perhaps <'f all others the most powerful 
 and difficult i<> subdue. This discovery did 
 not overwhelm her with disappointment; for, 
 unconscious of her Love, she had nourished no 
 fond expectation. A vague feeling of loss was 
 mingled with painful self-reproach : but her*s 
 was not ;i nature to sink into hopeless despon- 
 dency, even under Buch a weight of sorrow. 
 Her expansive benevolence was to receive a
 
 A TALE OF ENGLISH LIFE. 123 
 
 new impulse, and her intellect, wedded to a lofty 
 idealism, bring forth in rich abundance inspira- 
 tions which, translated into poetry, would kindle 
 in the breasts of thousands a noble zeal, an 
 enlightened patriotism, urging them on in their 
 mora] warfare, from conquest to conquest, till 
 the redemption of their country should be com- 
 pined. Hut many and hitter were the conflicts 
 through which this line spirit was doomed to 
 pa--, tic it came forth victorious. 80 Bevere 
 was its discipline, as somen m< s to threaten the 
 mortal tenement with dissolution. 
 
 A long and Bevere illness followed the dis- 
 closure. That intensity of feeling, known only 
 to the self-accusing and deeply wounded spirit, 
 brought the suffering girl to a condition of in- 
 fantine weakness and dependence. Through 
 this period of trial. Ellen tended her like some 
 guardian angel, ministering to her wants with 
 the gentlest care, and whiling away the tedious 
 hours of pain by every art the mosl affectionate 
 solicitude could suggest. Nothing would have 
 done so much to aid Margaret's conquest over 
 herself as this devotion on the part of her friend. 
 Gratitude began to occupy the place of unre- 
 quited pas-ion. and she strove to banish every 
 thought of Alfred as it arose, till she could look 
 upon him calmly as the affianced husband of
 
 124 I. LBOB and lovi: : 
 
 Ellen, ;iii(l hold them together in her la-art with 
 undivided love. 
 
 After Borne months of severe endurance, Mar- 
 garel was Bufficientl) recovered to We removed 
 for change of air. and apartments were provided 
 for her in a lovely, retired village, aboul ten 
 miles distant. With a delicate attention t<> her 
 every comfort, Ellen made arrangements foj 
 Busan to attend her; meanwhile engaging the 
 
 services of ;i | : widow with whom Bhe had 
 
 become acquainted during her visits of mercy, 
 for tin- work of the household. Margaret sus- 
 tained the parting with more courage than she 
 expected, and was greatly relieved when Mr. 
 Arnold informed Alfred it would be unnecessary 
 to accompany the traveller-: and as the invalid 
 needed quietude, Bhe had better be left to the 
 sole- ear* of the faithful Susan. 
 
 During the absence of their beloved teacher, 
 the children were confided to the attention of 
 Harriet Russell, who had willingly offered her 
 services, though not without strong opposition 
 from Mrs. Sharpe. Every week Bhe had the grat- 
 ification ^i communicating to Margaret happy 
 tidings of her own Buccess in teaching, and of 
 the steady progress of her pupils. She generally 
 enclosed letters from some of them, speaking 
 of their continued attachment to their ' dear
 
 A TALK OF ENGLISH LIFE. 
 
 125 
 
 Miss Elliott,' and their fervent hopes for her re- 
 covery. Mr. Arnold frequently visited his adopt- 
 ed daughter, generally accompanied by Ellen 
 or Harriet. He experienced a proud satisfaction 
 in witnessing, n«»i only an improvement in her 
 health, bu1 a gradual return of that cheerful ani- 
 mation, which drew all heart- towards her. At 
 length a time was fixed for her to return home, 
 and en- it arrived, she wrote ;i long letter to her 
 dear father, as -he now called him. telling of 
 her struggles and triumph : exulting in the anti- 
 cipation of dedicating her free heart and hand 
 to the furtherance of hi- labors of love; and 
 
 continued, — » I thank God for this severe yet 
 purifying discipline. Through which I am ena- 
 bled to look with a clearer vision upon the 
 inward and outward life. I have been told that 
 
 love is unconquerable; lmt my experience has 
 
 proved that religion can control and subdue 
 even that master passion of the soul, when 
 indulgence would dim the spotless purity by 
 which ii is ennobled, or would mar the happi- 
 ness of another. I can now meet our beloved 
 Ellen without a single feeling I need blush to 
 avow, and give Alfred joy in the possession of 
 so priceless a treasure. Yes, my friend, my 
 father, I am free, blest, and happy.'
 
 126 LABOR AND LOVE ! 
 
 ' How beautiful our Margaret looks!' said 
 Ellen to Alfred, one evening when they were 
 alone together. -Since her illness, there is 
 something about her so spiritual and holy, I 
 regard her with sentiments Little short of ado- 
 ration.' 
 
 • Such are precisely my own feelings,' he re- 
 plied, -and ye1 hei playfulness, and child-like 
 simplicity, link her very closely with our mortal 
 sympathii 
 
 'Alfred. I wish yon could have seen the chil- 
 dren yesterday, when she visited the school for 
 the firsl time. The scene was quite overpower- 
 ing. She look.. | bo happy to be in her old place 
 again,' 
 
 ' May she Long occupy it. loved and blest as Bhe 
 deserves to be,' warml) responded Alfred; 'but 
 at pre-. ait you have prior claims upon her ser- 
 vices. Her office of bridesmaid empowers you to 
 
 enforce them ; and we cannot afford to lose her 
 
 again so Boon.' 
 
 Ellen looked very thoughtful, and remained 
 silent some moments, then said, musingly, — '1 
 
 wonder if Margaret will ever marry?' 
 
 ' That is a question very dilficult to solve, 
 Nelly. I sometimes think her too dependent 
 upon her own rare gifts to concentrate her 
 affections upon any one not vastly superior
 
 A TALE OF ENGLISH LIFE. 127 
 
 even to herself, and I believe no man could 
 win her love, unless he strove through years of 
 probation to* prove himself worthy. She would, 
 in my opinion, exact this trial.' 
 
 ' Alfred, you wrong her. Margaret is too 
 generous, too good, to make stilish calculations 
 where the heart is concerned. Perhaps, if you 
 could penetrate the depths of her pure nature, 
 you would form a different opinion.' 
 
 Had he, indeed, truly understood that heroic 
 yet loving nature, would he have spoken thus? 
 * * * * 
 
 In one short month, Alfred and his Ellen were 
 united in marriage, pledging at the sacred altar 
 a faith pure and free, for time and for eternity. 
 Margaret's happiness transcended even theirs, 
 as she fervently blessed them, rejoicing in the 
 victory she had won.
 
 128 LABOR AND LOVE I 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 ing i" the ^lirine of power 
 < ' r hands shall never bring, 
 A garland on the C kl "I ) > • • 1 1 1 1> 
 ' ' r h.m.N shall never fL 
 
 auding in ihe conqueror's path 
 voices ne'er shall 
 
 Bnt we have i I »r those 
 
 Who I ade the world 20 free ! ' 
 
 i; BBT NlCi 
 
 Some years after the events just narrated, a 
 wonderful alteration was apparent in the scene 
 of Mr. Arnold's ministerial labors. The old 
 sehoolhouse \\:i- qo more to be seen, but in its 
 place Btood n beautiful little chapel, on either 
 side of which were spacious rooms for the use 
 of the school, :md oilier branches of the Society. 
 ry department manifested signs of prosperity 
 and pr< — living proofs of the triumph of 
 
 benevolent labor. 
 
 Alfred Remberton was the poss< ssor of a splen- 
 did mansion a few miles distant from Birminsr- 
 ham, and he had once proposed to Ellen that it
 
 •A TALE OF ENGLISH LIFE. 129 
 
 should bo famished for their future home; but 
 when she p&intcd out to him the benefits they 
 might confer upon others, if, instead of occupy- 
 ing it themselves, the rent could be made availa- 
 ble, he entered at once into her plans. They took 
 a pretty gothic cottage, which, when adorned by 
 Ellen's exquisite taste, and brightened by her 
 presence, became a paradise for the heart to 
 dwell in. By this, and other means equally 
 benevolent, they were enabled to contribute 
 most of the money required for the erection of 
 the now buildings, and to Bel apart the largest 
 share of thoir Income for deeds of mercy. 
 
 The Palmers were residing in a delightful 
 little homo, similar to that of thoir friend Charles 
 Herbert, whose society and that of his amiable 
 wife they continued to enjoy, and proved in 
 every respect worthy of such a privilege. Jane 
 had so well used the lessons she received from 
 Mary, that it would have been difficult to decide 
 which of their peaceful dwellings was most at- 
 tractive. Their children grew up around them, 
 good and happy, cheering them by their lov- 
 ing, grateful attentions, and lives of piety and 
 usefulness. Jane and her husband preserved a 
 constant remembrance of the past, ever acknow- 
 ledging their obligations to those who first taught 
 9
 
 130 
 
 LABOR AND LOVE 
 
 i the true worth of life, and how to prize a 
 fcwtst so sacred. 
 
 Harriet Russell, with a spirit that did her 
 honor, threw off the bondage of dependence, 
 and accepted the office of a teacher, succeeding 
 her friend Margaret, who retired when the new 
 school-room was opened. Harriet incurred the 
 displeasure of Mrs. (Sharpe, because her heart 
 owned the worth and superiority of William 
 Herbert, and she had with frank decision pre- 
 ferred him to a poor conceited man, entirely 
 absorbed by self-love, and p< ing a load of 
 
 lth, which he had not sense enough to take 
 care of, or devote to any good purpose. She 
 now living with Mr. Arnold and Margaret. 
 The latter still assisted her in the school, and 
 attended especially to the training of Charlotte 
 Herbert and Alice Palmer, who were eventually 
 to be promoted to its joint superintendence. 
 
 A separate school for boy. was in contempla- 
 tion. In this George Arnold was more interested 
 than in any other of his father's projects. He 
 now pursued his studies under the care of 
 Alfred, who had gained Mr. Arnold's consent 
 to bear the whole expense of George's educa- 
 tion and preparation for the ministry. It was 
 the boy's highest aim to follow in the steps of 
 his revered parent, who rejoiced in the contem-
 
 .A TALE OF ENGLISH LIFE. lol 
 
 plation of his son's future usefulness, when he 
 himself should rest from his earthly labors. 
 
 As Alfred had predicted, Margaret Elliott 
 was accomplishing a glorious work. The crea- 
 tions of her heaven-directed mind were known 
 through the length and breadth of the land, but 
 most of all to the homes and hearts of the work- 
 population. She had attained the highest 
 eminence to which her ambition soared, — that 
 of the friend and poet of the people. Yes, she 
 1 1 heir friend, and continued her lov- 
 ing services among them as in times of yore ; 
 vi iting their dwellings, relieving their wants, 
 and breathing words of hope and encourage- 
 ment, that brought gladness to many a house 
 of sorrow. 
 
 The Fraternal Union was no longer a trivial 
 and despised undertaking. When it became 
 known that the accomplished man of wealth 
 gave it the sanction of his name, and so closely 
 allied himself with all its interests, it assumed a 
 new aspect in the world's eye ; and many who 
 had at first scorned the humble efforts of the 
 good pastor and his people, considered them- 
 selves privileged in being admitted members of 
 this flourishing association, and gladly contrib- 
 uted to its support. Those, too, who once look- 
 ed with contempt upon the poor, unknown girl,
 
 132 LABOR AND LOVE. 
 
 taken from the lowest conventional rank in so- 
 ciety, now bowed to the commanding force of 
 her genius, and felt honored by the slightest 
 token of her regard. 
 
 When will men cease to look only in the high 
 places of this world, for those great ones who 
 guide ill" destinies of ilieir race? Is the light 
 of Christianity i dim, that it cannot penetrate 
 the with which error and prejudice sur- 
 
 round the life of man? and are we ever to be 
 pained by the hearing of that same significant 
 question, ' Can any good thing come out of 
 Nazareth?' Surely Christ has not lived in vain. 
 \ brighter day even now dawns, in whose in- 
 creasing radiance human' 11 rejoice. The 
 sublime brotherhood which He taught must be 
 acknowledged, and the low earth-born distinc- 
 tion-. •' t separate the great family, become 
 annihilated by the power of Universal Love. 
 
 THE END. 
 
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