No. 
 
 Fron 
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES 
 
 
 vV.r/.' Lilinii-i/. , 
 
 y. r - _ 
 
 SE 
 book 
 Legi 
 any] 
 shall 
 times 
 
 register of all 
 icmbers of the 
 be session. If 
 ic Library, he 
 Library, three 
 tne controller sdall issue his warrant 
 
 in favor of any member or officer of the Legislature, or of this State, for 
 his per diem, allowance, or salary, he shall be satisfied that such member 
 or officer has returned all books taken out of the Library by him, and has 
 settled all accounts for injuring such books or otherwise. 
 
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 who are required to keep their offices at the seat of government, the 
 Justices of the Supreme Court, the Attorney-General and the Trustees of 
 the Library. 

 
 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK; 
 
 
 THE MYSTEKY SOLVED. 
 
 BY 
 
 MRS. S. A. SOUTHWORTH, 
 
 AUTHOB OF "LAWRENCE MONKOE," ETC. 
 
 ''Life is only bright when it proccedeth 
 Toward a truer, deeper light above; 
 Unman love is sweetest when it leadeth 
 To a more divine and perfect love." 
 
 BOSTON: 
 
 N 3D S H E 1? A. 
 
 1870.
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1869, by 
 
 LEE AND -SHEPARD, 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. 
 
 STEREOTYPED AT TH 
 
 Boiton Stereotype Foundry, 
 No. 10 Spring Lane.
 
 PS 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTEB PAGE 
 
 I. The Loverings and their Friends. . . .9 
 
 II. Life and its Changes. . . . . .18 
 
 III. Sad Scenes at the Small House. . . .31 
 
 IV. The Pain and its Cure. The Confession and Revul- 
 
 sion. . . . . .42 
 
 V. Alone with the Dying and the Dead. The Sad Return. 61 
 
 VI. What became of the Children. The Midnight Call. 64 
 
 VII. The Children's Prattle. The Wife's Burden, or a 
 
 Synopsis of Mr. Giles. . . . .73 
 
 VIII. A Tragic Scene in Village Life. . . .83 
 
 IX. Mr. Trueman's Family. Pleasant Memories. . 93 
 
 X. Mr. and Mrs. Stillman. A Domestic Scene. . 99 
 
 XI. Christmas Morning. Reminiscences of the Past. . 106 
 
 XII. The Christmas Party Miss Patty Stearns. . 112 
 
 XIII. What Santa Claus left. Judith Lovering's Advice. 122 
 
 XIV. Winnie's Visit, and the Party. . . .128 
 XV. Making Calls here and there. .... 136 
 
 XVI. The Separation. The Aged Christian's Death-bed. 143 
 XVII. The New Home and its Trial|. Mr. Wiley's Family. 151 
 XVIII. The Good Shepherd's Watchfulness. The Disclo- 
 sure. The Burial. .... 162 
 
 (6)
 
 5 CONTENTS. 
 
 XIX. Morgan Lcntell, or the Broken Web. The 
 
 Accident. . . . . .172 
 
 XX. Mrs. Giles' Sickness. Miss Ann Thropee, or 
 
 Sympathy wasted. . . . .179 
 
 XXI. Winnie's Thoughtfulness. Sunshine and her 
 
 Freak. . . . . . .189 
 
 XXII. Hester's Visit to Mrs. Giles. Little Johnnie's 
 Death. Kemoval of Mrs. Giles to her Father's 
 House. ...... 195 
 
 XXIII. The Struggle and the Triumph. The Council. 
 
 Mr. Giles' Visit 213 
 
 XXIV. About the Baby. Trouble upon Trouble. The 
 
 Proposal. . . . . .227 
 
 XXV. Hester rescues the Baby from its unnatural Father. 
 
 Dr. Edward's timely Arrival. . . 233 
 
 XXVI. Midnight Musings. The Discovery. Conscience 
 
 disturbed. ..... 243 
 
 XXVII. Passing Events. Scenes and Incidents. . 251 
 
 XXVIII. About Hester's Call. Winnie's Talk, and Grand- 
 pa's Wedding. ..... 258 
 
 XXIX. Self-Communings. The Still Small Voice. 
 
 Light in Darkness. .... 264 
 
 XXX. Bitter Memories. Welcome News. Lore re- 
 warded. Elevia saved. . . . 279 
 
 XXXI. The Day of Miracles, or Mr. Giles and Mr. Lover- 
 ing made Friends. .... 289 
 
 XXXII. Fostina's Mission, ..... 304 
 
 XXXIII. Sunshine and Shadows. Deception unveiled. . 318 
 
 XXXIV. Scene in a Factory Boarding-House. The 
 
 Tempter foiled. . .... 333
 
 CONTENTS. 7 
 
 XXXV. Hester's Faith rewarded. A Leap in the Dark 
 
 Deceived and deserted. .... 352 
 
 XXXVI. Fort Surater is fallen. The Call to Arms. 
 
 Weeping at the Village Depot. . . .368 
 
 XXXVII. Fostina's Life Work begins. Hester's Story of 
 
 her own Childhood. .... 375 
 
 XXXVIII. Love's Golden Key, or a New Era in the Lentell 
 
 Family. . . . . . .385 
 
 XXXIX. Uncle Levi. Sad Scene at the Supper Table. 
 
 The Noble Wreck. . . . .396 
 
 XL. Elida's Visit. The Soldier's Funeral, or the 
 
 Laurel Wreath. . . . . .411 
 
 XLI. Our last Call on the different Families in our 
 World. Harmony's dying Wish accomplished, 
 her Faith rewarded, or the Conclusion of the 
 whole Matter. . , 429
 
 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE LOVERINGS AND THEIR FRIENDS. 
 
 JUST on the outskirts of one of New England's most 
 enterprising cities, the Levering farm-house has stood 
 for at least a century. The old house was kept in ex- 
 cellent order, and in process of time the shed roof on the 
 back side was raised, and a porch added, to make room 
 for the third and fourth generations. Three tally trim 
 poplars stood sentinel in front of the house ; a maple at 
 one end ; a Balm of Gilead spread its leaves and shed 
 its healing buds at the other end, shading the porch 
 door. Just over the way, on a gentle eminence, stood 
 the corn-barn, ample in dimensions, and under it the 
 cider mill and storehouse for farming utensils, with 
 bench and tools for repairing. On this bench the chil- 
 dren and grandchildren (little ones, I mean) used to sit, 
 and watch the apples fall into the hopper ; while Old 
 Tom, the family horse, went round and round, with his 
 sleepy eyes half shut, a miracle of patience and docility. 
 
 It was an important epoch in the life of each succeed- 
 ing child when he or she was taken down from the car- 
 
 (9)
 
 10 IIESTEK STRONG'S LIFE WOIIK. 
 
 penter's bench, and assigned some post of honor about 
 the cider mill. Just back of the house, at the left, stood 
 a capacious barn, with all the conveniences necessary on 
 a large farm, even to the "little yard," as it was called, 
 especially for milking. But the pleasantest, the most 
 delightful spot on all the premises, was the " river road," 
 or cart path, which led from the barn through well-cul- 
 tivated fields, under fruit and other trees, down even to 
 the smooth, sweet waters of the Merrimac. Dear old 
 river ! How the young people loved it ! What moonlight, 
 morning and midday walks' they used to take, back and 
 forth ! If there is magic in music, so there was magic in 
 the moonbeams as they fell upon the bosom of the 
 sparkling water, and came dancing and flickering to you 
 through the silver leaves of a cluster of willows which 
 stood just at tho right hand of the terminus of the river 
 road. Beneath these willows were rustic seats, placed 
 there many years agone, by young, brave hands, which 
 are now folded over the silent bosom of a weary sleeper, 
 who is resting in the village burial-ground. Of these 
 willows we shall speak again. About half a mile down 
 the river, and farther from its sloping banks, Nathan 
 Sharp built a small, inconvenient house ; married, and 
 made it the business of his life to get rich ; ignoring all 
 refinement of manners, all adornment of his person or 
 premises, and despising " book larnin'," as lie called it ; 
 counting no labor too hard that would pay well. Ilis 
 worldly goods increased, as well as his family, until he 
 cuuld count more acres than Mr. Lovering ; had inure 
 cattle crowded into his little shabby barn, more chil- 
 dren in his inconvenient, uninviting house, and more 
 money. He was satisfied, as much so as a selfish,
 
 TUE LOVEKINGS AND THEIR FRIENDS. 11 
 
 narrow nature can be. Money was his idol ; work, his 
 pride and boast. Mehitable, the eldest daughter, wa8 
 her father's exact counterpart, except in one item 
 she was neat and orderly, even to a fault. 
 
 Mr. Manlie, an educated gentleman, lived at the village 
 about two miles from the Loverings. His wife was a 
 pleasant, cultivated lady, so that their children enjoyed 
 excellent advantages, and were every way worthy of 
 their parents. Horace Manlie, while a medical student, 
 became engaged to Miss Hester Strong, an adopted 
 daughter of the Loverings. Between these two families 
 there had always existed a firm friendship, which ripened 
 into a warm and permanent attachment. So when the 
 eldest sou of Mr. Lovering asked timidly for the hand of 
 Mary Manlie, it was cheerfully bestowed. This connec- 
 tion was pleasant to all who had a right to be concerned, 
 if the different members of Mr. Sharp's family did proph- 
 esy evil, and that continually. Mary and Hester had 
 long been as sisters, and now they felt that they were 
 sisters indeed, as they were in affection. 
 
 Both were looking eagerly forward to the time when 
 Horace should complete his studies, and cement the bond 
 of union between them. They spent many happy hours 
 in talking over their future plans, their hopes and bright 
 anticipations, little dreaming that a net was even then 
 being spread by envious, artful hands, which would 
 change their plans, and bring sorrow, ay, anguish, to 
 many hearts. Mehitable Sharp had some claims to 
 beauty of face and figure. She was of medium height, 
 fair complexion, blue eyes, rosy lips, and very sprightly. 
 With oilier training, and dill'erent influences, she might 
 have been u noble woman. But as it was, all the good
 
 12 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 aspirations of her ardent nature were crushed out, all the 
 envy and avarice of her heart were cultivated. 
 
 Her girlish fancy first fastened upon Charles Levering ; 
 and she lost no opportunity to cultivate his acquaintance, 
 and went into many extravagances in dress in order to 
 captivate him. But in vain. His true, noble heart 
 found its mate in Mary Manlie, and he bore her to his 
 home joyfully in spite of hints and unpleasant innuendoes 
 thrown out by Miss Sharp. About the time of his mar- 
 riage, she was accidentally thrown from her horse very 
 near Mr. Manlie's. She was conveyed to the house, 
 treated with the politeness and attention her situation 
 demanded, and then carried to her home by Horace, 
 who was spending his vacation at his father's. The 
 young lady was charmed with the fine person and agree- 
 able manners of the student, and wished, in her inmost 
 heart, she could win him for herself. Instinctively, she 
 saw how hopeless the task while in her present circum- 
 stances ; the difference between them, intellectually arid 
 morally, was too great ; but she used all the arts she 
 was mistress of to interest him. She was brilliant, 
 pleasant, and witty. He looked upon her as one who 
 had been neglected, and sought to lead her into new 
 channels of thought, to stimulate her to cultivate her 
 mind and heart. And after this he often called at her 
 home when passing, on his way to visit Hester. His 
 prejudice against the family was not so great as that of 
 his parents and sisters, because he had seldom come in 
 contact with them since quite young. 
 
 His mother warned him that he would see trouble if 
 he made so much of the girl. 
 
 "0, I think not," was the reply. " I am trying to
 
 THE LOVEKINGS AND THEIE FRIENDS. 13 
 
 bring her out, to make something of her. She feels her 
 deficiencies sadly. Hester approves of my course. She 
 pities her sincerely." 
 
 " She must have changed," said his sister Martha. 
 " She used to despise learning, and make sport of you, 
 and all educated people." 
 
 " Well, that was when she was young and thoughtless," 
 was the reply. " She told me she did. I am going to 
 lend her some books ; and, Martha, I wish you would join 
 me in the good work of bringing this young girl up out 
 of the slough of ignorance in spite of her parents." 
 The student returned to his studies with buoyant, hopeful 
 spirits. His affections had never wavered from his first 
 and only love, no, not for a moment. But into Hester's 
 heart had finally entered a vague" doubt, a nameless fear, 
 a secret and scarcely recognized pain. Soon his letters 
 became less frequent : she made no complaint, but her 
 step became less elastic, her voice more silent ; she was 
 changed. When he chided her gently for her remissness 
 in writing to him, she smiled almost bitterly, and strove 
 to still the throbbing of her wounded heart, little dream- 
 ing that the perfidy of another had robbed her of those 
 tokens of remembrance which she so much craved. Had 
 either of them been less patient and uncomplaining, the 
 artful web which was being woven about them might 
 easily have been broken, and. all would have been 
 well. As Mary sat writing to Horace one day, Hester 
 said, 
 
 "Are you writing to Horace?" "Yes, dear," was 
 the reply. " May I put in a note to him ? I do not 
 feel able to write much." She wrote and sealed these 
 fatal words :
 
 14 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 " Horace, our engagement is at an end, and forever. 
 Seek not to see me until we can both talk calmly of the 
 past and its broken* vows. Farewell. 
 
 " Ever your friend, ' HESTER STRONG." 
 
 As she handed the sealed note to Mary, she sank back 
 in her chair pale and exhausted, crushed and broken- 
 hearted. 
 
 " Hester," said Mary, " what is it ? Why will you 
 not tell me ? Surely you do not attach any importance 
 to that rumor about his engagement to Mchitable Sharp ? 
 You should know Horace better than that. I have not 
 even mentioned it to him. He would be offended. I 
 knew he would be here soon, and then the cloud would 
 pass. Cheer up, darling, or I shall laugh at you." 
 Hester tried to speak, but her lips were mute. She 
 wanted to tell her, now that the letter had gone, of all 
 that she had seen and heard ; of the letter she had been 
 allowed to partially read ; of the strong professions of 
 love he had lavished on one so unworthy of him ; of his 
 great joy that the time of his release from an irksome 
 duty was so near at hand, and the full fruition of enjoy- 
 ment so soon to come. But she could not pain the fond 
 heart of her more than sister by the recital of her broth- 
 er's faithlessness. 
 
 No, she could not call it that ; it was a strange fatality 
 that had separated them, hard to bear, harder to under- 
 stand. Days passed : all the friends looked for Horace 
 with the greatest anxiety, feeling sure that he could ex- 
 plain all, and bring the old smile back to Hester's face, 
 joy to her heart, and light to her eyes, which were now 
 dull with weeping. But instead came kind, affectionate
 
 THE LOVERINGS AND THEIR FRIENDS. 15 
 
 letters to all but her he loved most and best. Hers 
 read, 
 
 " Hester, I accept the freedom you have so freely given 
 roe, and its conditions. We will not meet until you wish 
 it. I should have been better prepared for the cruel 
 blow you have given me, but I -was slow to believe what 
 our mutual friend, Mehitable Sharp, so hesitatingly told 
 me. And when you neglected to answer my earnest 
 letters of devoted attachment, I should have believed, 
 but I could riot, 0, I could not! But when my last, 
 eager, hopeful letter was returned unopened, and my 
 sister's letter came to hand, containing your cold, cruel 
 renunciation of me, my heart grew sick, and my very 
 soul faint, with the bitter disappointment of its most 
 cherished hopes. Farewell. To-morrow I shall be far 
 away from all I have counted dear ; a restless wanderer 
 to I know not where. 
 
 " Ever your friend, HORACE MANLIE." 
 
 Weeks and months passed away before Horace Manlie 
 was again heard from. His unexpected departure, Hes- 
 ter's tears, all, all was a painful mystery to the family 
 and friends. All that they could do to cheer and sustain 
 Hester they cheerfully did, although their own hearts 
 were sore and sad. At length letters came containing 
 his address. If Hester had been hasty in dismissing her 
 lover, she now hastened to confess her fault. She wrote 
 to him of all her doubts and fears, her painful suspense, 
 of all she had seen and heard, closing with the words, 
 " Horace, my dearest and best beloved, come home. I 
 shall never be happy till I hear from your own lips that 
 I am forgiven."
 
 16 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 Letters came and went, the light came again to Hes- 
 ter's eyes, the smiles to her lips, and yet something of 
 the old buoyancy had gone. Hester was wiser now. It 
 was sweet to be reconciled and at peace with her heart's 
 chosen one, but the time seemed long, very long to wait. 
 Horace had engaged himself as tutor for three years. 
 He had the privilege of attending medical lectures in one 
 of the best of schools. He must fulfil his engagements, 
 he wrote, though the heavens fall. Very soon after the 
 mysterious departure of Horace Manlie, Mehitable Sharp 
 married Morgan Lentell, a distant connection of the 
 family. There was quite a disparity in their ages, as 
 well as dispositions. He was fine-looking and amiable, 
 but not very energetic. He made a home for his wife 
 on a farm (rented, at first) about seven miles from her 
 father's. Her outfit, although not elegant or extensive, 
 was perfectly satisfactory ; as Mrs. Lentell had, like her 
 father, a supreme contempt for the beautiful or the orna- 
 mental. But more than all things else she prized her 
 spinning-wheel, reel, and loom. Poverty stood sentinel 
 at their humble door for several years, but he was 
 bravely met and conquered. Mrs. Lentell was, indeed, 
 the more shrewd and capable of the two, and acted well 
 her part as far as the accumulation of property was con- 
 cerned. The rest we will leave our readers to learn as 
 our story progresses. 
 
 The Loverings and the Manlies had never been on 
 terms of intimacy with the Sharp family. But since 
 they had proclaimed to the world that Horace Manlie 
 had broken his engagement with Mehitable, and fled 
 through fear of the Loverings, there had been no com- 
 munication between them. They met and passed each
 
 THE LOVERINGS AND THEIR FEIENDS. 1Y 
 
 other without recognition. So that when, two years 
 after, the emaciated form of the gifted young man was 
 borne to his childhood's home to die, and Hester, patient, 
 faithful ilester, watched tenderly over him, there were 
 no prying eyes or curious ears to disturb the mournful 
 pleasure of those few remaining days. None. knew how 
 much they suffered, nor how much they enjoyed, except 
 the immediate family and friends. And as the flickering 
 light of that beautiful, manly life went out, and they laid 
 their beloved dead in the churchyard near at hand, the 
 two families drew nearer and nearer together, forming a 
 circle, as it were, around Hester, the stricken, smitten 
 one, as if to shield her from the sorrow which had 
 fallen so heavily upon them, but with a more crush- 
 ing weight on her. 
 
 " It is all a painful mystery," they said; " who shall 
 fathom it ? A deep, deep wound ; who but the Infinite 
 One can heal it ? " It was there Ilester looked ; and 
 after months of weary, prostrating sickness, she came 
 forth calmly, and serenely took up the burden of life, 
 consecrating herself to God, and devoting her time and 
 talents all to the work of ministering to the sick 
 and suffering of earth. 
 
 And, verily, she will not lose her reward. 
 2
 
 18 HESTE1J STKOXG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 . 
 
 LIFE AND ITS CHANGES. 
 
 TWENTY-FIVE years had not passed over the families, 
 which we have introduced to our readers, without making 
 great and important changes. The dear old father and 
 mother of Charles and Mary Lovering, after years of 
 patient waiting, passed on to the reward of the righteous, 
 blessing God for the gift of such kind and devoted chil- 
 dren, such loving and respectful grandchildren. 
 
 " It is only the fruit of your own judicious training," 
 Hester, the child of their adoption, used to say. Mary 
 Lovering had -found her a source of never-failing comfort 
 and help. " What should we do without Hester ? " was 
 a household word ; and many other families said and felt 
 the same. All these years she had been like a minister- 
 ing angel to the sick and afflicted, not only in her own, 
 but often in neighboring towns, whenever home duties 
 would permit. 
 
 " Mary and I have six children," she used to say, 
 laughingly. " I don't know which loves them best. But 
 sometimes they think they love their auntie a little rnite 
 the best, for I never punish them." It would be difficult 
 to imagine a more pleasant and joyous family circle. 
 But Hester began to say the harvest time had arrive:!. 
 Olive was gathered into a home nest of her own, Frank 
 next. Edward was at college. Charles, junior, said he
 
 LIFE AND ITS CHANGES. 19 
 
 must wait and look after his lovely sisters Harmony, 
 the beautiful pet lamb of the flock, and Elivia, the spar- 
 kling, brilliant baby of the household. Those were happy 
 days at the farm-house, as the children gathered around 
 the ample fireplace in the large, old-fashioned kitchen, 
 in winter, talking cheerfully, reading, sewing, or singing, 
 while the father led with his deep, bass voice and his 
 violin. Martha Manlie often made one of their number ; 
 for, like Hester, she had been down into " the valley," 
 and seen one nearer and dearer than life go over the river 
 and leave her standing alone, with life's blasted hopes, 
 and sweetest, fairest flowers lying faded and fragrantless 
 at her weary feet. " Hester, sweet sister," she used 
 to say in the first months of her grief, " how is it that 
 you are strong enough to bear your own and other peo- 
 ple's sorrows ? " But we must pass hastily over these 
 events, and remain silent about many things that would 
 be of interest to the reader, Mr. Lovering is " grandpa " 
 henceforth, and Hester is " aunt " to everybody. Har- 
 mony was her especial darling from her striking re- 
 semblance to her uncle Horace. It was but simple 
 justice to call her beautiful. She had small, regular 
 features, black, glossy, and very luxuriant hair, and eyes 
 full of tenderness, deep and dark. Her complexion was 
 very fair, with rosy cheeks, a bewitching smile, and voice 
 soft as sweetest music. 
 
 It was not strange, then, that she who was so much 
 admired at home should be sought after, early in life, to 
 bless and brighten another home. So it was. 
 
 " Keep her in the home nest closely, mother," grandpa 
 used to say, " or we shall lose her too soon." 
 
 Changes have been wrought also in the family of Me-
 
 20 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 hitable S. Lnntcll. The rented farm has been bought and 
 stocked, aud increased in size. She has eight children ; 
 three boys and five girls. Some have married and gone 
 from the din of the loom and the buzz of the wheel. 
 Morgan, the eldest son, is his mother's pride. 
 
 " I should like to have them Loverings see him," she 
 used to think. He was, indeed, a noble specimen of 
 young athletic manhood ; six feet in height, well propor- 
 tioned, with deep-blue eyes, brown hair, and comely 
 features. As he excelled in all youthful sports, he was 
 a great favorite in his circle. He had also his mother's 
 business talents ; so the care and burden of the farm fell 
 naturally upon him. Mrs. Lentell had grown prematurely 
 old in the race for money ; deep lines of care were 
 marked on her once comely features. In her family she 
 reigned a sort of queen ; her word wsfe their only law. 
 Her house was kept in order, and the family were happy 
 in their way, by due submission to the ruling power. 
 Mr. Lentell was a cipher in his own house. He was 
 often reminded of his great indebtedness to his wife for 
 the property he possessed. Sickness and death had 
 never entered their dwelling. This was owing to her 
 excellent management, she thought. She was never sick ; 
 why should others be ? Morgan had become a famous 
 rafter of wood and lumber to a seaport town not very 
 distant, and in that way brought much gold to his moth- 
 er's coffers. On one of these occasions, he was taken 
 suddenly and severely sick. He remembered the cluster 
 of willows, the delightful road, and the neat farm-house 
 but a few rods distant. He had often caught glimpses 
 of young men and maidens seated beneath the willows. 
 Some one might be there now. If not, he might reach
 
 LIFE AND ITS CHANGES. 21 
 
 the house. This thought nerved his arm till he arrived 
 at the spot. Two young and very lovely girls were 
 seated there. He hesitated to accost them, but they 
 soon discovered his situation, and Harmony Lo-vering 
 stepped timidly and gracefully forward, as she said, 
 
 " You are sick - are you not, sir ? My father's house 
 is near, and my brother is at work in the next field. 
 Shall I call him ? " 
 
 " If you will do so, I shall be greatly obliged, " was 
 the reply. " I have never been so sick before." Charles 
 came at his sister's call. He saw at once that it was a 
 case of cholera morbus, if not of cholera, but he was too 
 generous to leave him in this hour of need. Eli via went 
 forward to inform the home circle, Harmony lingered by 
 the sick man. Simple remedies soon relieved the symp- 
 toms, but grandp: prescribed rest and a cup of tea. By 
 that time it was night. " Stop with us till morning," 
 they all said, " and take a fresh start." He was nothing 
 loath, for in such a family it would be pleasant to spend a 
 lifetime. These, then, were the Loverings he had heard 
 his mother speak of with such bitter contempt. Surely 
 she "did not know them. Was it possible that Mrs. Lov- 
 ering was about bis mother's age ? How young and fair 
 she looked ! And Hester, he had thought, was a monster ; 
 but no, she was a noble-looking lady, with a calm, sweet 
 face. And Harmony ! Never before had he seen or 
 dreamed of such a vision of loveliness. What a contrast 
 to his uncultivated sister I what a contrast in everything ! 
 
 " You said your name was Lentell," said grandpa, at 
 the supper table. " What was your mother's maiden 
 name ? " 
 
 " Meliitablc Sharp,", was the reply.
 
 22 HESTER STKOXG'S LIFE WOUK. 
 
 " Ah ! indeed," said grandpa. " Mary, you remember 
 her ; she used to be neighbor. They lived on the place 
 where Mr. Stearns lives. Charles, they left wheu you 
 were a baby." Hester's keen eye rested on the young 
 man's face for a moment, wondering if this noble-looking, 
 agreeable young man could be the son of her youthful 
 enemy. Was he like her ? She felt uneasy and anxious. 
 Her quick eye had seen the glances of bashful admiration 
 pass between Morgan and Harmony, and that the two 
 would be fitly mated so far as beauty -was concerned. 
 But, like one of old, she queried, " Can any good thing 
 come out of Nazareth ? " Reader, this was but the 
 beginning of the end of my story. The visits of the son 
 of Mehitable Sharp became frequent, and agreeable to 
 Harmony, at least. And while sitting under the willows, 
 watching the moonbeams dance and flicker in and out 
 through the leaves, listening to the ardent professions of 
 devotion uttered by the rich, manly voice of Morgan 
 Leutcll, little Harmony fell a victim on the altar of sweet, 
 young love. She was wholly his. The young man 
 soon won a place in the affections of the family, so that 
 sooner than they intended, sooner than their judgment 
 dictated, they consented to part with their darling. Hes- 
 ter remonstrated when she found Harmony was to board 
 with her husband's mother. But all in vain. 
 
 " It will only be for a short time," was the reply ; 
 "just long enough for them to build." This silenced, 
 but did not convince her of the wisdom of the plan. 
 Mrs. Lcntell was not pleased with her son's marriage 
 into a book family, and that the Loverings. " AY hat 
 good is their larnin' going to do 'um ? " she used to say. 
 " It won't help 'um hold a plough, or swing an axe, IT
 
 LIFE AND ITS CHANGES. 23 
 
 cook a dinner, or make a shirt, or darn a stockin', to say 
 nothin' about spinnin' an' weavinV But these objections 
 were carefully concealed from Harmony and her friends ; 
 fur Morgan had assured them, firmly and decidedly, that 
 he should leave them, and forever, if obstacles were 
 thrown in the way of his marriage. The old house had 
 grown too small for them. A new one must be built 
 immediately ; and who but he could lift the mortgage and 
 build the house ? And so the young, inexperienced 
 child-wife was actually settled in their midst before she 
 knew their prejudices or the real character of the family. 
 But she was soon made to feel herself an intruder ; and 
 the future opened out before her like a dark, dreary wil- 
 derness, with just one light to illumine the darkness 
 the ardent love of her husband. This, she thought, would 
 always be left to cheer her. Her affectionate, trustful 
 nature clung to its first and only love, never dreaming that 
 what had seemed to her so sacred and pure, so much like 
 heaven, could ever be covered up or blotted out by the 
 blight and mildew of sin. She did not see the terrible 
 monster that was winding his hideous folds around the 
 noble form of her husband, paralyzing both body and 
 mind. She was used to seeing the wine-cup passed 
 around in her father's house, but intoxication she had 
 never seen ; to real intemperance she was a stranger. 
 She knew not that her husband's feet were even then 
 ready to slip, and that he was being goaded on by the 
 perplexing cares arid conflicting influences which sur- 
 rounded him. Poor child, she did not know the power of 
 the intoxicating cup, or of a strong-minded, managing 
 mother over a son taught from childhood to obey. At 
 first, Morgan defended his young wife from tlic insulting
 
 24 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 treatment of his mother and sister and two younger 
 brothers. The elder sisters, being married and well 
 settled in life, received her kindly, and treated her with 
 respect. 
 
 He astonished them all one day by informing them that 
 he had entered into an engagement with an aged widow in 
 the neighborhood, to take a deed of her property, giv- 
 ing a bond for her proper care and support. That was 
 a terrible blow to them, as Mr. Lentell had become dis- 
 abled for active labor by a fall, and was depending on 
 his son to pay up the debts, build the new house, and 
 take care of them in their old age. He, from the first, 
 had treated the young wife with respect and tenderness, 
 and had often been pained by the cold, unkind treatment 
 she received in his house, especially by the bitter taunts of 
 his wife ; but he was powerless to improve her condition. 
 
 " I don't blame you, Morgan/' was his only reply 
 when his son made known his decision ; " I can't blame 
 you, but God only knows what will become of us." And 
 the tears fell slowly down those patient cheeks. 
 
 His mother was silent and sullen, attributing it all to 
 his marriage with a good-for-nothing Lovering. 
 
 He would be sorry before long, beg her pardon, and 
 come back on her own terms. She was sure he would 
 never get on with such a slack, shiftless wife. "She 
 didn't know a distaff from a reel when she come here, to 
 say nothin' about spinnin' an' weavin' ; " and so she let 
 them go, apparently well pleased. She was mistaken. 
 Harmony was young, far loo young to assume the duties 
 of housekeeping, being on\y sixteen at her marriage ; the 
 consent of her parents being gained only by the assur- 
 ance of Morgan that she should be a boarder in his fa-
 
 LIFE AND ITS CHANGES. 25 
 
 ther's family, without care, till matured both in strength 
 and judgment. But the kind, motherly instructions of 
 the aged widow enabled her to succeed better than 
 might have been expected. She bade fair to make an 
 excellent housekeeper. She often referred to this period 
 as the two happiest years of her life. 
 
 By that time Mrs. Mehitable Sharp Lentell began to 
 fear that her son would not return like the Prodigal of 
 old. She saw that she was losing her power over him. 
 The farm, in spite of many days' labor bestowed on it by 
 Morgan, junior, was running down ; the debts were not 
 being paid, nor the new house built. She changed her tac- 
 tics at once, and by a series of skilful manoeuvres, by 
 prayers and tears, warnings and entreaties, caused him 
 to break his engagement with the widow (who had been 
 as a mother to him and his wife), and return, like a fool 
 to his folly, a little less than a year previous to her death ; 
 which would have left him in possession of competence 
 and happiness. 
 
 Morgan Lentell never failed in obedience and respect 
 for his parents. That was an overshadowing influence 
 with him, while his own family took a secondary place 
 iu his thoughts. He might have had a deed of all the 
 property when he returned ; but regard for their feelings 
 induced him to let writings remain as they were, and 
 transact business in his father's name, lending his own 
 as security. Harmony and her three little children spent 
 the summer at grandpa Lovering's while the new house 
 was in process of erection. It was to be large and con- 
 venient for two families ; therefore the confiding wife 
 wove many a fanciful web of happiness for lu.-rself in the 
 future, i:it<.T\vovei), more or less, with dark forebodings,
 
 26 IIESTEIl STUOXG'S LIKE WOUK. 
 
 which wore more than realized. Mrs. Mehitablo Sharp 
 Leutell was sagacious enough to have the half she was 
 to occupy finished first, and move into it. She then 
 insinuated that her son might move his family into the 
 old house, until he should be able to finish the oilier part, 
 advising him not to hurry about it ; for, said she, "ilar- 
 jnony won't have any dairy, and it will be better for you 
 to pay up that note, that will be due next year, first. 
 The old house is enough sight better than it was when 
 your father and I commenced housekeeping. Harmony 
 has got too many notions now." Her parents were 
 opposed to her moving into the old house. Indeed, they 
 would gladly have kept her with them henceforth. " Let 
 her stay where she is," was her father's reply to his son- 
 in-law, " till the house is done ; and I will furnish it in 
 good style, if you will only sign the pledge, my sen." 
 
 But Harmony felt it her duty to go with her husband ; 
 BO they gave a reluctant consent. From that day her vas- 
 salage to her husband's mother was complete. Little by 
 little she artfully estranged the husband's ailections, and 
 left her heart an empty, aching void, with nothing to 
 bind her to earth but the love of her childhood's friends ; 
 with nothing to bind her to her husband but the children 
 she could not leave, and from whom he would not part. 
 
 The new house was at length completed, and partially 
 furnished, and the family were staying in it, when grand- 
 pa Lentell sickened and died suddenly while Morgan 
 was rutting timber to a distant town. His grief and 
 that of his wife were unfeigned, and the little children 
 wept when their mother told them grandpa had gone to 
 heaven. 
 
 "Who t'n.k him?" said Wallace, sobbing. 
 
 " God," said the mother.
 
 LIFE AND ITS CHANGES. 27 
 
 " Why didn't he take grandma," said the child, bit- 
 terly, " and let my grandpa stay ? " 
 
 "Her would be too c'oss up there wouldn't her, 
 mamma ? and her can't have her loom can her ? God 
 won't 'low it," said Elida, in a whisper. 
 
 " llush, hush, children!" said the startled mother, 
 looking anxiously at the door. 
 
 After the funeral, the inhabitants of the " great house," 
 as it was always called, were thrown into terrible com- 
 motion, and the feelings of the community greatly agitat- 
 ed, by the reading of a will, written a day or two before 
 the death of Mr. Lentell, giving his entire property, new 
 house and all, to his two younger sons, and leaving the 
 " Atwood place " to Morgan ; a little, uncultivated farm, 
 with a poor, miserable house and tumble-down barn upon 
 it. It was well known that the kind old gentleman would 
 not have done such an unjust deed knowingly, and also 
 that his reason failed in the very first of his sickness. 
 The whole thing was illegal : it would not stand the 
 test of law. 
 
 But here, again, the power of the mother was brought 
 to bear upon the yielding son. 
 
 "Would he take the law on his own brothers ? and at 
 such a time, too ? What difference did it make ? They 
 should always consider him the same as a father ; he 
 would still manage the property just the same." 
 
 Alas for his credulity ! Six months had not gone by 
 when he was compelled to leave all, and retire to the little 
 Louse, where we shall soon find them. He was advised 
 to seek redress, and felt disposed to do so ; but a few tears 
 and entreaties from his mother changed his purpose. 
 Strange infatuation 1 " Honor thy father and thy ni<>th-
 
 28 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 er," was a lesson he bad learned most thoroughly ; while, 
 " For this cause shall a man leave father and mother, and 
 shall cleave to his wife : and they twain shall be one 
 flesh," had found uo place in his heart ; or that other 
 scripture, teaching, " If any provide not for his own, and 
 specially for those of his own house, he hath denied the 
 faith, and is worse than an infidel." 
 
 At the time of grandpa Lentell's death, the debts were 
 nearly paid by the industry and hard labor of Morgan ; 
 aided considerably by the liberality of father Loveririg, 
 and a lift now and then from his wife's brothers. His 
 own family had cost him very little in any way. But 
 the mason work in the new house was not paid for ; the 
 workmen had tried to collect it from the new owners, but 
 in vain. They saw plainly that the intoxicating cup, fam- 
 ily bickerings, &c., were rapidly breaking down the once 
 strong, noble man. lie was, even then, almost a 
 wreck of his former self. So, in the midst of haying 1 , 
 they seized the person of Morgan, and sent him to the 
 county jail ; consoling themselves with the idea that the 
 mother, who was still the ruling power on the place, 
 would not permit him to remain there ; especially at that 
 time, when he was so much needed at home, as well as 
 on the old place, where he still did much effective labor. 
 They were mistaken : they either could not, or would 
 not, pay the debt. There was something of the old time 
 tenderness in his voice, as he bade his family a sad good 
 by, and rode away with the sheriff. 
 
 " I shall be back'in a day or two, Harmony," he said. 
 " Good by ; keep up good courage. Mother '11 contrive 
 some way to pay it up right off. I'm going to do better 
 when I get back. I'll send somebody to see to you. Don't 
 go home, Harmony, don't : I'll IIP l>;x:k in a d;iy or so."
 
 LIFE AND ITS CHANGES. 29 
 
 These few kind words were like dew on the thirsty 
 earth : she lived on them many days. On his way to the 
 jail, he called on a friend whom he had often aided, told 
 him his circumstances, asked him to take care of his 
 family until his return. His case excited much sym- 
 pathy, and several gentlemen volunteered to give bail ; 
 which his mother urged him, with tears, to allow. 
 
 But as he was resolved not to pay the debt, he refused 
 to return. He had the liberty of the yard, however, and 
 gained the esteem of the jailer's family, besides good 
 wages. And many, very many fondly hoped that this 
 experience would emancipate him from his mother, who 
 went often to see him, and wept bitterly at what she 
 called his obstinacy in not being bailed. But he was 
 firm, saying, 
 
 "I shall remain here till the term expires, unless you 
 pay the debt. You could do it easily if you chose." 
 
 " Marm," said Abigail, the next day after Morgan left 
 home, " Miller Drake has just gone along. I'll bet a dol- 
 lar he's gone to see Harmony ; and he thinks so much of 
 Morgan, that he'll go and provide for her. It's too bad, 
 the little, proud, puttering thing ! I hoped she'd git 
 brought down a peg. Let her go home if she wants to, 
 and cogitate Latin varbs with her lamed brothers." 
 
 Fortunately Abigail was the only one in the family 
 who inherited her mother's aversion to books and refine- 
 ment of manners. 
 
 " Nabby, you talk like a fool about her goin' home. 
 Morgan would foller her, an' we couldn't git along with- 
 out him. Hum, I wish to the land we could. I wish he 
 could be prevailed on to send her home : it would mortify 
 them Loverings some, 1 guess. But don't you fret about
 
 30 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 Miller Drake ; I'll hail him when he goes back, and you 
 see if I don't manage that now." 
 
 And she did manage it. She told him, 
 
 " She was glad he had called on poor Harmony. She 
 means well enough, but she don't know how to manage. 
 Everything goes to ruin. I shall see that she don't want 
 for anything, though. We are going to send over their 
 food, and do their washing ; so it won't be necessary for 
 you to call again. We can see to them ; Morgan ought 
 to have known we would. I will go right over with 
 some things now. Poor Morgan ! I pity him, and 
 would contrive to pay the debt, but we have to maintain 
 the whole family most of the time, and he might as well 
 be there as at home. He's an altered man, Mr. Drake ; 
 yes, an altered man since he married. I pity him, and 
 his family shan't want while he's gone, I promise you." 
 
 So Mr. Drake wasn't seen at the small house again. 
 Perhaps his gratitude wasn't very deep ; perhaps he was 
 glad of a poor excuse for not keeping a solemn promise 
 to one who had befriended him in a similar case. The 
 resolute, determined character of the elder Mrs. Lentell 
 was well known in all that region, as well as her unnat- 
 ural and unaccountable prejudice against her son's wife 
 and the Loverings generally. At all events, he should 
 have kept his promise, so solemnly given. But the food 
 was not carried over, the washing was not done, and the 
 family did suffer. 
 
 And Mehitable Sharp Lentell was careful, when she 
 went to see her son, not to inform him of Mr. Drake's 
 unfaithfulness or her own. 
 
 So the poor man felt comparatively easy about his 
 family, and made many good resolutions for the future.
 
 SAD SCENES AT TIIK SMALL HOUSE. 31 
 
 . 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 SAD SCENES AT THE SMALL HOUSE. 
 
 " Hun 1 You needn't ask mo to send for Hester 
 Strong 1 , for I shan't. It's nothin' but ' Hester,' ' Hes- 
 ter.' I hate her. She shan't come here to lord it over 
 me in my old age." 
 
 " Why, what did aunt Hester ever do to injure you ? " 
 said a faint voice from the bed, which stood in a corner 
 of the low, dark, dingy-looking room. " 0, I must have 
 her, or I shall surely die, and baby will die, too." 
 
 " Hum ! you won't die ; no danger of that. That child 
 ain't worth raisin' ; she looks like a monkey. I've mado 
 gruel 'nuff to last till mornin' ; there's bread and meat 
 'nuff for the young 'uns. You've nothin' to do but lay 
 there, and let 'um wait on ye." 
 
 " 0, I am too sick and faint to tell them," said Har- 
 mony Lentell, the young and beautiful wife of Morgan 
 Lentcll. "0, do send for Hester, or mother, or some 
 one. Don't leave me alone with these children another 
 night." 
 
 " I shan't send for none of 'em ; you've been babied 
 to death ; 'tis time you's weaned," said Mrs. Mehitable 
 Sharp Lentell, as she turned to leave the house. " Cruel 
 and unsyinpathizang," mused the sick one, as she covered 
 her face and wept silently. The three children, Winnie, 
 Wallace, and Elida, drew nearer and nearer together, 
 looking into each other's faces in silent sympathy.
 
 32 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 " I think grandma is real c'oss," said Elida. " I don't 
 lovo her do you, Walla 
 
 "No, I don't," said Wallace; "she isn't a bit like 
 grandma Levering or aunt Hester." 
 
 " Hush ! " said Winnie ; " mamma is very, very sick. 
 Don't you see how pale she is ? She is whiter than the 
 sheets. 0, what if God should take her away from us ! " 
 she whispered close to Wallace's ear. 
 
 " He won't," said Wallace. " We couldn't live here 
 then. We can take care of her." 
 
 "So we can," said Winnie; "let's go and tell her 
 about it. Mamma, mamma," she said, going to the 
 bedside, "Wallace and I can nurse you can't we? 
 Look up, mamma ! We love you, all of us." 
 
 " Darling, precious children ! I know you love me, 
 and for your sakes I will try to be calm. Perhaps God 
 will send grandpa Lovering to see us ; then all will be 
 well." 
 
 " Shall I warm you some gruel, mamma, or bathe your 
 head ? 0, what can I do to make you better ? " 
 
 " You may do both, darling, and then you may put 
 little sister to bed, while you and Wallace sit by me a 
 while to comfort me. You are my little comforter, you 
 know." 
 
 Baby was a pale, sick, hungry-looking little thing ; the 
 whole expression of the face inexpressibly sad. They 
 named her little Fossie. The children called her funny ; 
 the doctor very gravely remarked, 
 
 " Your child is altogether too old of her age, Mrs. 
 Lentcll. But have you no one to stay with you but 
 these children? No sister or friend ?" 
 
 " My sisters are all married," sighed the sick one.
 
 SAD SCENES AT T1IE SMALL HOUSE. 33 
 
 " I am expecting a very dear friend, Miss Hester Strong, 
 every moment. I wrote her a note since I was taken 
 sick." 
 
 " Glad to hear it," was the reply. " You will need 
 her. Good day, ma'am. If I am wanted, please let, me 
 know, and I am at your service." 
 
 " Yes, you needn't come unless you hear from us," 
 said grandma Lentell, who entered the room just in season 
 to hear the remark. When the doctor had left the house, 
 Harmony inquired, timidly, " Isn't it almost time for 
 Hester to come, grandma ? " She was answered with 
 a derisive laugh. " I guess not. I burnt that letter. 
 You don't need her. I told you so before." A deathly 
 faintness passed over the sick one for a moment. She 
 felt stunned by the cruel blow, but the thought of her 
 helpless condition roused her. 
 
 " How could you ? " she murmured, " 0, how could 
 you? You will send Levi for her won't you? Don't 
 say no," she pleaded. 
 
 The reader has already been made aware of the cruel 
 obstinacy with which the elder Mrs. Lentell refused to 
 send for Hester, or any one to take care of Harmony. 
 So she had but little nursing except what her children 
 bestowed. She was rapidly sinking, and the wee baby 
 grew more wee daily, until grandpa and grandma Lov- 
 ering arrived on the fourth day after its birth. " God 
 has sent you," said little Winnie, as she met them at 
 the door. " Mother said he would." 
 
 " What's this ! what's this ! " said grandpa, turning 
 around hurriedly, and clinching his hand firmly in his 
 hair, as usual, when he was 'surprised or indignant. 
 " Hariny, where is the nurse?" " We's the nurse, 
 3
 
 34 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 said little Winnie. " Wallace and I is nurse." " Ah, 
 indeed!" said grandpa, "you are nice children. But 
 this won't do, Harmony. Father must look after you 
 better than this, dear child. You must come home when 
 you are able to ride." lie stooped, took little Elida in his 
 arms, stroked her shining hair, patted Wallace's dark 
 locks, praised Winnie, peeped in at the half-starved babe, 
 stroked the hollow cheek of his faded daughter silently 
 for a moment, and then said in a half whisper, " Take 
 the things out of the chaise-box, mother, and make her 
 something nourishing," nodding towards the bed. " You 
 must stay arid take care of her till I get back with Hes- 
 ter." Mrs. Levering found things in a sad condition. 
 She fed the hungry children, and smiled at their joyful 
 demonstrations ; but her heart was full, almost to burst- 
 ing, as she stood over her child, and combed gently the 
 matted locks of hair which were once so beautiful. 
 
 " I feel so much better ! " said the sick one, languidly. 
 " How good you were to come, when I have been so ob- 
 stinate about going home ! Now I shall sleep a little. 
 You will see to them ; and baby, my poor baby, it seemed 
 very hungry till this morning, and now it don't want 
 anything. I haven't any nourishment for it, hardly ; it 
 won't starve will it ? " 
 
 " No, dear, I think not ; go to sleep now. I will see 
 to it," said the mother, softly. But how that word star- 
 tled her ! 
 
 Starve I Harmony's baby starve ! Soon as possible she 
 opened the little, blue, silent lips, and poured a few drops 
 of warm nourishment into its parched mouth. Again 
 and again it was repeated, while the little, cold, wet 
 infant was wrapped in warm, dry clothing. But as she
 
 SAD SCENES AT THE SMALL HOUSE. 35 
 
 looked around on the destitution of the house, thought 
 of the feebleness of the mother, and the almost hopeless 
 degradation of the father, she had many doubts and mis- 
 givings respecting her duty. 
 
 " 0, how infinitely better off the little one would be in 
 its Father's house above ! " she thought. " But I cannot 
 let it starve ; no, I must not, if I can prevent it. Poor 
 darling, surely the lines have not fallen to you in pleasant 
 places. But God is good ; he knows what is best ; I 
 must try to save you, and leave the result with him." 
 After a few hours of careful nursing, the infant opened 
 those strangely beautiful eyes, and raised them to the 
 loving face bending over it, as if to express its gratitude. 
 Mrs. Lovering was astonished at the change produced 
 in the little sallow face by their expression. She combed 
 the tangled locks of soft, bright hair, which curled into 
 graceful little ringlets, and called the children to see how 
 pretty she looked. 
 
 " 0, she is so beautifuler now ! " said the children, 
 capering about. " She was real funny before. 0, I'm 
 so glad you came, grandma ! Now grandma Lentcll won't 
 say she looks like a monkey, and make mamma cry 
 will she?" "I knowed she wasn't a monkey," said 
 Wallace, proudly. " Monkey's has got hair all over, and 
 they hasn't got such nice little mouths and eyes has 
 they, grandma ? " " No, darling, she is a sweet little 
 sister, and when she is strong and well, she will be very 
 pretty, I think." 
 
 Mrs. Lovering was surprised to find that Morgan Len- 
 tell had been confined nearly a week in the county jail, 
 leaving his family to the tender mercies of his mother 
 and sister. They had succeeded, long ago, in convincing
 
 36 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 him that Harmony was a poor, slack thing ; that she 
 wasted faster than he could earn. And so they under- 
 took to spend his earnings, and carry in provisions as 
 they were needed ; and, in their opinion, it took very 
 little to support a shiftless woman and three miserable 
 children, and they dealt out the provisions accordingly. 
 But for the care and thoughtfulness of grandpa Lover- 
 ing's family they must have suffered ere this. 
 
 " My father is a naughty man, sometimes," said little 
 Wallace, confidentially, to his grandma, as he was being 
 undressed for the night. " He is cross, and doesn't love 
 mother, nor me, nor anybody. He talks bad words, and 
 I don't love him much. Mother says I must, though, for 
 he wouldn't act so if he wasn't intoxicated. lie tells 
 mother to go home to her rich old father, and I wish she 
 would. Mayn't I go home with you, my dear, good, 
 kind, little grandma? Mayn't I?" persisted the child. 
 " Mother will let me." 
 
 " Perhaps so, darling," said the grandmother. 
 
 " Aunt Abigail said mother would go, if it wasn't for 
 her prideness. She wouldn't would she, grandma ? " 
 
 Just then aunt Hester arrived. She was now a maiden 
 lady of sixty, and one of those individuals whose name 
 and nature are perfectly coincident. Except that her 
 black hair was slightly frosted, one would not have sup- 
 posed her more than forty. She was received with dem- 
 onstrations of delight by the children, and deep, heartfelt 
 joy by the sick mother, some of the earliest and pleas- 
 antest recollections of whose life were connected with 
 Miss Hester, who had been in the family of her grand- 
 father, or father, or among their friends, all her life. So 
 bhe was considered one of themselves. Her broad clie.st
 
 SAD SCENES AT THE SMALL HOUSE. 3f 
 
 shook with emotion for a moment, as she bent over the 
 pale face arid sunken eyes of her early pet ; but the 
 resolute will kept the strong, siiiewj' body in subjection. 
 Her great soul always obtained the mastery in the sick- 
 room, where she was perfectly at home under all circum- 
 stances. So grandfather and grandmother Levering left 
 with a safe, satisfied feeling, saying, as they went, 
 
 " Well, if anybody can bring her round, Hester will. 
 She will have good care, and Hester won't allow of any 
 interference from any one." 
 
 Grandmother Lentell called very soon, and made some 
 sharp criticisms on the baby and baby's mother, as well 
 as upon things generally. 
 
 " Folks have changed since we were gals together," 
 said she to Hester. " They didn't lay in bed only a few 
 days then ; I'm sure I never laid by more'n a week in my 
 life." 
 
 " Yes," said Hester, " they have changed. People 
 are not so healthy as they used to be ; and you and I, 
 Mehitable, have been highly favored. We don't know 
 what it is to be sick. Let us thank God, and be kind to 
 those who do." 
 
 " Hum," says Mrs. Mehitable ; " some folks can feign 
 sickness rather than work. For my part, I'd rather 
 work than be sick." 
 
 " Pretty likely," said Hester, dryly. " I'm afraid you 
 arc not a good judge of sickness. / ought to be, for 
 I've spent my whole life among it. Folks thai feign sick- 
 ness don't often pine till there's nothing left but skin 
 and bone. ! " she exclaimed cheerfully, to change the 
 subject, " there is Mrs. Bartlett, the dear, kind soul. She 
 is coming to nurse our little, wee, sick chick. Its poor
 
 38 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 mother is so low I am going to take good care of her, 
 and hope she will rally in a few days. . She has had a 
 hard time, poor darling." 
 
 " Hum," said Mrs. Mehitable, trotting her foot vigor- 
 ously ; " hum, that child ain't worth all that fuss. Why 
 didn't you let it die, Hester ? You are just the same as 
 ever : you don't look ahead a bit more'n you did when 
 you refused a good offer, from a sense of gratitude or 
 what not, to them miserable Loverings. You'll git yer 
 pay for it yet," said she, in a sarcastic, insinuating tone. 
 
 Hester cast a furtive glance at the bed. Yes, she heard 
 it all. A bright red spot glowed on each sunken cheek. 
 
 " I've got my pay for all I've ever done for them years 
 ago," she said sternly ; " and as to looking ahead, I 
 try to live for eternity, and not altogether for time. And 
 as Harmony is tired out, we won't talk any more here ; 
 but if you will stay till I get back, Mrs. Bartlett, I will 
 take a walk with Mrs. Lentell." 
 
 " Certainly," said Mrs. Bartlett; "go, by all means." 
 
 " Thank you," said Hester, as she bent tenderly over 
 Harmony, and said some low, sweet, brave words to 
 her, arranged the pillows, gave her a drink, and left 
 her. Both walked on in silence a few moments, when 
 Mrs. Lentell remarked, 
 
 " I suppose you know Morgan never can pay you for 
 staying there." 
 
 " Yes, I know it," said Hester, looking her steadily in 
 the face. " Is money the only thing worth living for ? " 
 
 " Why, you're a fool to spend all your days workin' 
 for nothiu', that's all ; " said Mehitable, somewhat discon- 
 certed by the steady gaze of her companion. 
 
 " Perhaps not," was the reply ; "perhaps I am not so
 
 SAD SCENES AT THE SMALL HOUSE. 39 
 
 foolish as you take me to be. I was not so stupid that I 
 could not look ahead and see that sorrow, disappoint- 
 ment, and suffering would come upon Harmony Lover- 
 ing if she married your son and went to live with you. 
 Was I mistaken do you think ? Don't we all know what 
 you have done to her ? For shame, Mehitable ! From 
 beginning to end you have abused and tyrannized over 
 her. She hasn't complained, dear lamb ! I told her how 
 it would be ; so she is as silent as the grave. I told her 
 folks you would grind her to the earth. She is too good 
 and patient to live with you. Didn't I know you ? There 
 came a time, Mehitable, when I could read you through 
 and through, and learned you all by heart, and could 
 reckon you up as well as I could a sum in addition. Ah, 
 Mehitable, I fear you don't look ahead any, but you've got 
 to answer for your conduct to that child somewhere. Her 
 folks didn't believe me. 0, they didn't know what good 
 reason I had to know you. 
 
 " What a shame that my poor, -dear lamb should be 
 treated so ! My beautiful little Harmony, that might 
 have married into the best family in our town, and been 
 treated like a lady, as she is ! For shame, Mehitable, to 
 ruin your own son's prospects for the sake of gratifying 
 a mean, contemptible, jealous disposition. Be sure you 
 can't go to heaven with that spirit." She had been 
 standing right before Mrs. Lentell, with her great, broad 
 palm upon the shrivelled shoulder of the little, wizened, 
 wiry-looking woman ever since she turned to address her. 
 
 She had moved her back and forth slowly, and now 
 drew her near enough to whisper, 
 
 " Vile woman, you know why I did not marry Horace 
 Manlie. You remember the cruel slander you brought
 
 40 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 to me, and the letters you remember them. I had not 
 learned to read you then ; I believed you. It was you 
 that sent him across the ocean, and consigned me to a 
 life of honest labor, which is not without its reward. But 
 the pain is over now ; I am cheerful, and happier than 
 you are. I would not change places with you. Horace 
 and I understood each other before he died : we shall 
 meet in heaven." Holding her back, and again looking 
 her steadily in the face, she said, 
 
 "How dared you allude to that painful subject now, 
 after all these years, and falsely attribute our separation 
 "to Harmony's folks ? You did it to pain her ; you mean 
 to kill her. Go, now, and do not come into that house 
 again while I stay in it." 
 
 She released her, and turned to depart ; but Mrs. Len- 
 tell, who had been surprised into silence, now found her 
 speech. 
 
 " You shall be paid for this," she said, slowly. " I 
 don't bear such insults. Prove what you say about 
 Horace Manlie, or I'll make you." 
 
 " I can and will," was the calm, steady reply, " and 
 many other falsehoods, if you wish it. It might help to 
 break that tyrannical power you have over Morgan, and 
 secure the happiness of my darling, who never saw an 
 unhappy hour till she married him. And he would do 
 well enough away from you. Shall I prove what I have 
 said ? " 
 
 " Prove what you like," was the evasive reply ; " and 
 I shall come into my son's house when I like." 
 
 " I should think you would call that a house ! " said 
 Hester, looking at it significantly ; " or perhaps you mean 
 the new house on the hill ; that is his, not yours. You
 
 SAD SCENES AT THE SMALL HOUSE. 41 
 
 can't expect to prosper, Mehitable ; you never will. Soon- 
 er or later you will have to meet a terrible reckoning. 
 But I must go : I can forgive you all the wrong you 
 have done me and him. He is at rest, and / am happy in 
 making others so. But mind, now, don't come near Har- 
 mony while I stay, unless you repent of your wickedness 
 to her, and come to ask her forgiveness. I can't al- 
 low it : she is the sickest person I ever saw left alone ; 
 and if she dies, her death will lie at your door. And 
 God knows there is guilt enough there now. Good by. 
 I wish you well." 
 
 Hester turned, leaving her standing as if riveted to the 
 spot. She never imagined- that Hester was aware of her 
 duplicity ; ay, treachery and hypocrisy. She never knew 
 that Horace and Hester had become reconciled ; that 
 Hester had watched over his dying bed, and wept bitter 
 tears of regret over the manly form, and sealed by a kiss 
 on the noble forehead her vow of consecration to the 
 sick and sorrowing. She did not know with what heroic 
 fortitude Hester had refused to yield to the entreaties of 
 Horace and the pleadings of her own heart to be united 
 to him in the last hours of his life, that he might bestow 
 on her his entire effects. 
 
 " Do not ask me, Horace," was always her tearful 
 reply ; " I do not deserve it. I will not come between 
 you and your lawful heirs." 
 
 She consented to receive five hundred dollars as a 
 dying gift, and had sacredly laid it aside for a time of 
 need, which had not yet come. 
 
 " 0, hum I " said Mrs. Mehitablc ; " then they found 
 me out. Well, I suppose it wasn't right, but I liked him 
 in spite of his larnin'. If I'd had more on't, he would
 
 42 IlESTEtt STUONG'S LIKi: WORK. 
 
 liked mo better. 0, hum ! I don't look much now as I 
 did then. He told me once that I was pretty better 
 lookin' than Hester. He wouldn't say that now, I 
 reckon. Well, it can't be helped. I knew he loved 
 Hester : how red he'd git in the face when I run out 
 ag'in her ! 0, hum ! How he shook that last night that 
 he called, when I told him she was false-hearted ! 0, 
 well, he knew better, and so did I ; but I meant to get 
 him. Well, I didn't play. the right card that time, sure. 
 I'm glad ray folks sold out jest a they did, and moved 
 off. I'm glad I never went there after he got home. I 
 shouldn't 5 ave dared to."
 
 T1IE TAIN AND ITS CUKE. 43 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE PAIN AND ITS CURE. THE CONFESSION AND 
 REVULSION. 
 
 " How cruel ! " murmured Hester, clasping her hands 
 firmly, and walking with a measured step back to the 
 house ; back and forth in the small yard. " How cruel 
 she was to pry open that secret chamber of 'grief ! 0, 
 I thought I had buried that great sorrow, with all its 
 bitter memories, so deep that no mortal could drag it 
 forth again. 
 
 " That fatal letter ! How came she by it ? I should 
 have known that it was written to me, for me, every 
 word of it, and not for her. 0, I didn't know then 
 that any one could be so false, so treacherous. How real 
 it all seems to-day ! And yet, more than forty years 
 have passed since it commenced, and more than thirty- 
 eight since I buried it in the inmost recesses of my soul. 
 To-day is the first time I have spoken of it, only to God. 
 I laid my burden at the feet of Jesus when Horace died. 
 How faithfully He has helped me to bear it all these years ! 
 But now it comes over me like a flood. 0, Horace, wo 
 shall meet in heaven ; I believe it. 
 
 " thou pitying Father, help me. Thou suffering 
 Saviour, comfort me ; even me, and help me to lay down 
 this vain regret, and take up the burdens and duties of 
 my own chosen work. Help me to think of the blessings
 
 44 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 left. How kind, tender, and thoughtful the Loverings 
 were to me in that day of darkness I Now I have the op- 
 portunity to repay them. Poor, dear Harmony, I fear I 
 shall not be able to save her. And why do I desire it ? 
 She is one of Christ's little ones, and if he calls her from 
 this prison-house of bondage, I must be willing, hard as 
 it will be for us who love her so well." 
 
 She stopped at the humble door, and resolutely drove 
 the shadows from her usually sunny face, and entered it 
 with a smile. Baby was having a sweet, satisfied nap. 
 Elida was cuddled away in kind Mrs. Bartlett's arms. 
 Winnie and Wallace were at school. All was quiet, and 
 yet the sick one could not rest. A tear glistened on the 
 long, heavy lashes, as Hester, bending over her, inquired, 
 " How is my pet ? " 
 
 " 0, auntie," she whispered, " I feel so I The bed is 
 all pins, or something. I can't lie still. What shall I 
 do?" 
 
 " Why, auntie will fix it for you, darling," was the 
 reply. 
 
 "0, it isn't in the bed, I guess ; it is in me. SJie 
 thinks I am feigning it ; I am not am I, auntie ? and 
 baby is worth saving isn't she ? and we didn't prevent 
 your marrying uncle Horace did we ? " 
 
 " No, no, darling ; don't think of what she said. I 
 know you are a poor sick lamb. I will take you up in 
 my arms, and Mrs. Bartlett will make up your bed all 
 clean and nice before she goes." 
 
 Hester forgot her own sorrows as she took the at- 
 tenuated little form in her strong arms, and walked back 
 and forth gently a few times, asking her to see from the 
 window how beautiful things were looking out of doors.
 
 THE PAIN AND ITS CU11E. 45 
 
 Thou seating- herself, and placing Harmony's head ten- 
 derly on her broad chest, she commenced singing, softly, 
 
 the hymn, 
 
 " Jesus, Lover of my soul." 
 
 Thus she not only soothed the restless invalid, but 
 her own soul was refreshed and comforted by the beauti- 
 ful hymn. Harmony fell asleep upon that loving bosom, 
 where she had so often rested in childhood. 
 
 " Shall I help you lay her down ? " said Mrs. Bart- 
 lett. 
 
 " No, dear ; I shall hold her till she is refreshed. She 
 isn't as heavy as she was at ten, I verily believe. Now 
 I think of it, I wonder where that rocking-chair is that I 
 gave her when she moved into the new house. She 
 might be laid in that sometimes, if I could find it." 
 
 " I can tell you where it is," said Mrs. Bartlett. 
 " Abigail was having a delightful rock in it when I called 
 there the other day." 
 
 Hester's black eyes flashed as she inquired, " Is that 
 so ? How came it there ? do you know ? " 
 
 "It is there for safe keeping, I expect. Why, Har- 
 mony isn't supposed to know how to take care of things, 
 because she can't spin and weave. But I must go 
 now, and will come in to-morrow and give baby a good 
 dinner." 
 
 " You are very kind, and God will reward you," said 
 Hester, " and your husband will accommodate me great- 
 ly if he will let one of the boys come and carry me to 
 ride a little way, after the children get home. It won't 
 take more than half an hour, and I will pay him for his 
 trouble." 
 
 " 0, he'll like to accommodate you," was the reply.
 
 46 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 The old white horse drove up to the door in good 
 season. Miss Hester threw on a sun-bonnet, and took a 
 seat in the wagon. 
 
 " Drive up to the great house on the hill as fast as you 
 can," she said to the boy. " Mrs. Lentell seems worse. 
 Drive as near the front door as possible. I shall go in for 
 a moment. But mind, as soon as I get into the wagon, 
 turn round and drive off without delay." 
 
 It was scarcely a moment when Hester returned with 
 a large rocking-chair in her arms, and placed it in the 
 wagon as easily as if it had been a cricket. 
 
 " Wait for me," she said to the boy. " There is one 
 thing more that I want for present use." 
 
 She came back again with a small stand, just as Mrs. 
 Lentell, her daughter Abigail, and the two boys, had left 
 their supper to see what the disturbance was. 
 
 " Harm," said Abigail, " see there now ! Are you 
 goin' to bear that? /shan't, if you do." 
 
 " You may both have to bear worse things than that," 
 said Hester, quietly seating herself in the wagon. " I 
 thought my chair and table would be convenient to iise 
 just now. There are some other things in there that 
 belong to Mr. Levering. I should have spoken to you 
 about them, but Harmony has been worse since you 
 called, and I am in great haste. Good by." 
 
 By this time the carriage was out in the street on its 
 way to the small house near the swamp, leaving the 
 group at the large house standing there in utter amaze- 
 ment. 
 
 Harmony was restless all night. Several times Hester 
 took her up in her strong arms, as if she had been an 
 infant, and laid her for a little while in the soft easy-
 
 THE PAIN AND ITS CURE. 4f 
 
 chair. Harmony looked pleased when she saw it, and 
 inquired, 
 
 " Did you get it for me ? " 
 
 " Yes, dear," was the reply. " Why didn't you tell 
 me they had it ? " 
 
 " I was so sick I gouldn't think/' she said ; " besides, 
 you know how angry I was when you told me how it 
 would be ; and I didn't like to. 0, auntie, I ought to 
 have heeded your warning ; but I loved him, and was 
 so young ! And father did want me to come back, but I 
 wanted to please Morgan. I feared he would be entirely 
 weaned from me, and I thought I couldn't live then. 
 But I have," she said with a ghastly smile ; " yes, I 
 have lived to lose that for which I left the best and dearest 
 of friends a happy, peaceful home. We can't die always 
 when we wish to can we, auntie ? or live either. 
 I have longed to die, again and again ; but the tone and 
 manner of Morgan when he left home, make me think his 
 heart is still mine that his love for me, which was 
 ardent, has been stifled, not extinguished ; and now I 
 want to live, 0, so much ! I wonder why he has not 
 written ; he said he would, and I believe he has," she 
 said, in a whisper. " She wouldn't allow me that little 
 drop of comfort, if she could help it." 
 
 " Child," said Hester, " I don't doubt that he has, 
 for your father has written him a kind letter ; and I 
 am sure he still loves you ; so now -try to sleep while 
 I write him a note. I will send it to the office by the 
 children. You will hear from him ; he shall direct it 
 to me." 
 
 Thus the night wore away at last. It was the most 
 restless one Harmony had experienced. Just what Hester
 
 48 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 wrote wo know not ; but the answer came soon. It was 
 lull of sorrow and contrition for the past, full of hope 
 for the future. He entreated his injured wife to forgive 
 him ; told her she was dearer to him than ever before ; 
 said he had written twice, but had received no answer, 
 lie did not say his letters were sent by his mother ; but 
 so it was. He closed by saying, 
 
 " My dear wife, I am ashamed to say that my mother 
 is the means of all your sufferings. It shall not be so 
 any longer ; do not leave me ; stay in the small house till 
 I return. These last acts of theirs have opened my eyes. 
 Who would have thought she would let me stay here at 
 such a time to pay their debts ? or act as she has, in 
 many respects ? 
 
 " They hate you for your superiority; they rejoice at 
 anything that will annoy you. They have sacrificed 
 me to their malice against you and your folks. How 
 monstrous ! and what a wretch I have been to allow it ! 
 0, Ilarmy, I have been thinking, and my own con- 
 duct appears most hateful and cowardly ; yours, beauti- 
 ful and forgiving as an angel's. The tables shall be 
 turned soon. I have already taken measures to regain 
 the property they stole from me. I shall sign the pledge, 
 and, as far as possible, redeem the past : so keep up good 
 courage, darling ; we will be happy yet. Kiss little Fos- 
 tina for papa. I hope she will never be ashamed of me. 
 Tell the little ones that I love them all, and want to sec 
 them. I shall bring them each a present when I come. 
 How good Hester was to write me. She shall not lose 
 anything by her kindness. Try to persuade her to make 
 her home with us. I mean to have the new house all to
 
 THE CONFESSION AND EEVULSION. 49 
 
 ourselves. Mother (I can hardly bear to speak of her), 
 and Abigail, and the boys can go to the small house near 
 the swamp. My lawyer says their fraud and deception 
 will give me entire power over them. And they deserve 
 it. I don't mean to forget my duty to them ; but I have 
 learned that my own family have the highest possible 
 claim upon*me. 0, why did I not learn it before ! But 
 the past is gone, the future only is left us. God grant 
 I may make a wise use of it. 
 
 "Yours, with much love, 
 
 " MORGAN LENTELL." 
 
 Harmony remained very calm and quiet while her kind 
 friend read this letter, looking up now and then to ascer- 
 tain its effect. She closed, and both remained silent a 
 few moments, when Hester, observing the extreme pale- 
 ness of the invalid, stepped to the bed and inquired, 
 
 " Isn't my darling very, very happy ? Isn't it all 
 bright and beautiful in the future ? " 
 
 She reached out the little thin hand, which Hester 
 clasped in hers, and said softly, 
 
 " Yes, auntie, all bright and beautiful ; but not here ; 
 no, not here ; it is too late. I am going, auntie ; don't 
 you see it ? " 
 
 " I see that you are feeble," was the reply ; " and I 
 hoped this letter contained a cure. Is it not so, darling ? 
 Surely you do not wish to leave poor Morgan now, and 
 these little. ones." 
 
 " No, auntie, I did not wish it ; but God has helped me 
 
 to be willing," she said, with a sweet smile. " How I 
 
 have hungered and thirsted for just such a letter as that 
 
 was ! How I have prayed for it ! A few days ago I 
 
 4
 
 50 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 think it would have made me unwilling to die ; but now, 
 thank God, I can leave them all. 0, auntie, 
 
 ' There is a land where beauty does not fade, 
 
 Nor sorrow dim the eye ; 
 Where true hearts will not shrink, nor be dismayed, 
 
 And love will never die.' 
 
 
 
 It is there I am going, auntie. How glad I am that ho 
 knows how I have been wronged ! that he will love my 
 memory ! Tell him how dear he was to me ; tell him I 
 forgave him day by day, and pitied him so much ! " 
 
 "But think, ".said Hester, "how sad it will be for 
 Morgan to lose you under these circumstances. Perhaps 
 God will yet raise you up to care for your family and 
 assist your husband to do right. It will be hard for him 
 to break away from old habits alone." 
 
 " I know it," said Harmony, almost sadly. " I have 
 thought of it. It has distressed me very much ; but now 
 my peace is like a river. 
 
 ' When we hear sweet music ringing 
 
 Through the bright, celestial dome, 
 When sweet angel voices, singing, 
 Gently bid us, " Welcome home," 
 
 can we, 0, can we, regret to go ? Dear auntie, uncle 
 Horace will be there, too. You say mother is like him. 
 I shall know him shall I not ? 
 
 ' In that land of ancient story, 
 
 Where the spirit knows no care, 
 In that world of light and glory, 
 Shall we know each other there ? ' 
 
 Yes, auntie, I feel that we shall. "
 
 THE CONFESSION AND REVULSION. 51 
 
 She became exhausted, and, while Hester stroked gen- 
 tly the soft locks, which had regained something of their 
 former brightness under her care, fell asleep. 
 
 Hester seized this opportunity to write a note to Mr. 
 Lovering, and also one to Morgan, stating, in as few- 
 words as possible, her worst fears.
 
 52 HESTER STllONG'S LIFE WOEK. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 ALONE WITH THE DYING AND THE DEAD. THE SAD 
 RETURN. 
 
 THAT night and the next day passed slowly at the 
 email house near the swamp. Harmony was sinking 
 rapidly. 
 
 " I should like to see them once more," she said sev- 
 eral times during the day, " if it could be so. But it is 
 all right. Poor Morgan I what a disappointment ! May 
 God help him to bear it. Give my dying blessing to my 
 dear parents, brothers, sisters, and friends. I love them 
 all. Poor Morgan ! what shall I say to him ? 0, if it 
 could have been, if I could have lived to help and bless 
 him, how happy we might have been yet ! But it may 
 not be. Tell them not to mourn for me. I'm going 
 home. How sweet that word is ' home ' ! How it 
 rests me to think of it ! " 
 
 " I hope, darling, that your husband and parents may 
 arrive to-morrow. I have sent for them." 
 
 She smiled and said, " It would be pleasant, but it 
 may not be. Tell my parents that, when left alone here 
 to suffer those three dreadful nights, I felt willing to 
 suffer it all, and more, to regain my husband's love and 
 reformation ; and God has given me my desire blessed 
 be his name ! What more can I ask for myself? These 
 children, too, I feel easy about them. How wonderful, 
 wonderful it is ! "
 
 ALONE WITH THE DYING AND THE DEAD. 53 
 
 Towards night she became restless in body, but calm 
 and triumphant in spirit. She kissed the children, say- 
 ing, fervently,. " Father, I commit them to thee ; lead 
 them not into temptation, but deliver them from evil, for 
 thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory. Amen." 
 
 Hester could not realize that the dark river was flow- 
 ing even at the door ; she could not hear the sturdy 
 strokes of the boatman as he neared the " hither shore." 
 She could not see the shining escort coming with songs 
 of joy and great rejoicing to release the ransomed one, 
 too early crushed by the sorrows and disappointments of 
 earth. No, she could not see them, even when they 
 folded their golden wings, and waited silently in the small 
 house near the swamp. She did not hear their gentle 
 whispers, or see their looks of heavenly sweetness ; but 
 she felt their presence, and grew strong in faith and 
 love. 
 
 "Auntie," said the sick one, with a smile, " it is al- 
 most over, and the pain is gone. I am only waiting, 
 and weary, weary. You will love my darlings, auntie, 
 for my sake ? " 
 
 " Yes, lamb, I will love them while I live. Even as I 
 have loved you, will I love them," was the reply. 
 
 " And will you, can you, take my little baby, and 
 shelter it in those strong, kind arms ; will you ? I re- 
 member now what its grandmother said. Will you take 
 it ? I would not have it left with her." 
 
 Hester took the little unconscious thing, and folded it 
 to her breast, and then said, solemnly, " I will, if God 
 permits it." 
 
 "He will," said the dying mother, "he will. Let 
 me kiss you. I am happy, 0, so happy ! and God will
 
 54 1IESTER STRONG'S HFK WORK. 
 
 see to them, and you will guide their young feet in the 
 blessed path." She grew more and more restless. "I 
 am twenty-six at twelve to-night, auntie," she said ; "it 
 don't seem but a little while since you used to rock mo 
 to sleep. Once again, auntie, once again let me lie in 
 your bosom, and go, yes, go to sleep." 
 
 Hester raised her 0, how tenderly ! The shining 
 escort smiled approvingly as she folded her to her warm, 
 full heart, and said, 
 
 " Now, what shall I sing ? " 
 
 " Sing, 
 
 'Eock of ages, cleft for me, 
 Let me hide myself in thee.' 
 
 That is what I want now ; but tell me first, auntie, what 
 separated you and uncle Horace. Did we, our folks, do 
 it, and make you unhappy ? " 
 
 " No, darling, no ; I never received anything but 
 kindness from them. I cannot tell you how it happened 
 now : it would distress you. It is all right, darling." 
 
 " Yes, it is all right," murmured the weary sick one ; 
 " sing now." 
 
 When the last stanza was finished, the little hand 
 clasped in Hester's was cold and still, the eyes were 
 closed, and weary little Harmony had gone to sleep. 
 
 " Asleep in Jesus," murmured Hester ; " 0, how 
 sweet ! My little lamb, you were led early, too early, 
 to the slaughter. Why was it so ? How willingly I 
 would have shielded you ! and yet I made a mistake. I 
 should have given them the proofs of her perfidy, the 
 reasons of her hatred to them ; they would have act- 
 ed differently then. " Harmony, my beautiful, my pre- 
 cious ! Why were all your beauty and sweetness wasted ?
 
 ALONE WITH T1IK DYING AND T1JE DEAD. 55 
 
 scattered by the foul breath of that envious, slanderous 
 woman. Why was she permitted to pursue you even to 
 the gates of dcatli ? But it is all over, darling, all 
 over, now. Sleep on ; she cannot wake or*trouble you. 
 I was mistaken ; I should have given you the reasons 
 for what I told you. I have kept my secret too well, 
 far too well ; may God forgive me." 
 
 She laid the little cast-off dress of the soul reverently 
 on the bed, and knelt there alone with the dead, as she 
 had knelt, more than thirty years before, with the cold 
 clay of one dearer to her than life. 
 
 Again she is living over the agony of that night ; 
 again her strong form is bowed and quivering with the 
 blast that then swept over her, and, as she thought, 
 passed away forever, with. its power broken. 
 
 " God, open again that secret chamber," she 
 prayed, " and bury again those dead, dead hopes, those 
 crushing fears, that parting agony." 
 
 " Rock of ages, cleft for me, 
 Let me hide myself in thee." 
 
 As the Sea of Galilee was stilled, hushed to rest by a 
 word from the lips of the blessed Master, so the soul of 
 Hester Strong was calmed into trusting peace by the 
 pitying One. She arose prepared the dead for the 
 silent grave. 
 
 How beautiful she was ! the weary, sorrowing look 
 all gone, the eyes closed as if in peaceful slumber. 
 Hester could now look cheerfully on the lovely face ; 
 but as she turned away from the dead, she remembered 
 the living. 
 
 The noble husband, who had been so near the very
 
 56 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 brink of ruin, and returned to the threshold of reforma- 
 tion what would be the result of this stunning blow on 
 him, the absent parents, brothers, and sisters ? The 
 feeble mother, why could she not have died in her loving 
 arms ? Hester wept as she gazed on the sleeping chil- 
 dren, and thought what might have been, and what 
 might now come upon them. How should she tell 
 them ? She laid herself down by the helpless baby, and 
 tried to rest ; but her heart was too full for sleep. 
 
 A great murmur of indignation ran through the com- 
 munity the next morning after Harmony's death. The 
 house was filled to overflowing ; the little children could 
 find no quiet place to weep only on the bosom and in the 
 arms of dear auntie Hester. 
 
 " Who will take care of us now ? " sobbed Wallace. 
 
 " Shall I have to go to grandma Lentell's ? " whispered 
 Winnie. 
 
 "Let me stay wis you," said Elida, clinging to her 
 neck. 
 
 " God, our Father in heaven, will take care of us," was 
 all Hester could say, for her own mind was sorely per- 
 plexed concerning them. 
 
 Many tears of pity and affection were shed by neigh- 
 bors, and all seemed to vie with each other in kind 
 offices now. Why could not some of those who might 
 have known the circumstances, have come forward when 
 a life might have been saved ? It was the same old story 
 "I did not think ; " "I was very busy ;" " I wish I 
 had known ; " and some could say truly, " I did not 
 know." All felt most keenly that there was one who 
 did know one who had promised to watch over the 
 lonely wife in her husband's compelled and shameful
 
 ALONE WITII THE DYING AND TIIE DEAD. 5T 
 
 absence. They knew that neglect and guilt lay at the 
 door of the great house on the hill. Mrs. Bartlett kindly 
 offered to take the infant to her own house, and care for 
 it till it could be better provided for ; which offer was 
 gladly accepted. 
 
 Mrs. Mehitable was stunned by the news of Harmony's 
 death. She had been sincere in thinking her not sick : 
 she was never sick herself; why should others be ? But 
 death was a terror to her. The still small voice whis- 
 pered unpleasant things in the soul's ear truths which 
 she hated, but could not shut out. She closed the door 
 and made it fast, took two letters from their hiding- 
 place, read them, and rocked the little, wiry, wizened 
 form back and forth, back and forth, exclaiming bitterly, 
 " 0, hum ! everything comes at once. If Morgan should 
 go to law, as he promised her, the game will be up. 
 But them Loverings won't have the handling on't now ; 
 that's a comfort. Hum, hum ! I've played the wrong 
 card this time, too ; I might have let her have these, 
 but I didn't think she'd die. Well, I hated her ; she 
 looked like the only man I ever loved, and he deserted 
 me ; yes, he deserted me after I had sold myself to the 
 evil one, almost, to get him. Hester says them Lover- 
 ings were not the cause on't. 0, well, it can't be 
 helped ! Morgan mustn't know I didn't give her these ; 
 he mustn't know I left her alone so much. I wish I 
 could still that tongue of Hester's ; I hate her worse 
 than ever. I'm glad she didn't marry Horace ; she was 
 a fool not to, though. 0, hum ! I don't know what to 
 do first. I can't do nothing with Hester ; and then them 
 Loverings know all about it. Well, I must see Morgan 
 first of any on urn that's all," she said as she arose,
 
 58 11KSTEU STUONG'S LIFE WOUK. 
 
 wont to the stove, dropped the two letters into it, then 
 culled her son and bade him harness the smart horse, 
 saying to Abigail, "I must bring Morgan myself, or the 
 fat will all be in the fire. You'd better go over ; it will 
 look better." 
 
 " No, I shan't," was the prompt reply ; " I don't go 
 for looks." 
 
 Mrs. Mehitable was too late. Hester's note had 
 informed him that Harmony was dying, and the friends 
 he had made while there hastened his departure. Their 
 hearts were filled with the deepest pity by his grief and 
 remorse. 
 
 " It will be all over with me," he said, hopelessly, to 
 the jailer's family, "all over with me, if she dies. I shall 
 be a murderer ; I can't bear up under it. If I knew she 
 was dead now, I would drown this misery in rum ; yes, 
 I couldn't help it. 0, God 1 what a wretch I have 
 been." 
 
 They saw that it would be useless to reason with 
 him ; they said kind, comforting words, and bade him a 
 sad good by. Mr. Lovering had informed him of his 
 mother's course towards Harmony ; of her dismissal of 
 Mr. Drake ; neglecting to send for Hester ; of the des- 
 titute, suifering condition in which he found her. 
 
 " And now if she should die before I reach her ! " 
 He shuddered to think of it. 
 
 With a heavy heart he turned his face homeward, and 
 hurried on till he came in sight of Mr. Drake's. 
 
 " Stop here," he said to the driver, "just a moment." 
 
 He strode up to the door with a face so pale and hag- 
 gard that his old friend scarcely knew him. 
 
 He caught him by the arm, and said, hoarsely and hur-
 
 TI1E SAD RETUKX. 59 
 
 ricdly, " Miller Drake, do you remember how I sacrificed 
 the hard-earned wages of months to save you from im- 
 prisonment and dishonor ? Do you remember it ? What 
 did you promise me then ? 0, what did you promise 
 me when I went forth to pay a debt which was not 
 mine ? You have been false, false as You knew my 
 mother, or might have known her, better than I did. My 
 wife is either dying or dead ; your neglect helped to kill 
 her. I called to curse you, and you will be cursed I" 
 
 He turned and went hastily back to the carriage, re- 
 fusing to listen to Miller Drake's excuses, simply saying, 
 " You were false faithless and false." 
 
 Hester was terrified at the wild, hopeless face of 
 Morgan, which peered in at the door about noon. He 
 rested his eyes on his dead wife for a moment, and 
 then disappeared with a stifled groan. Hester called 
 to him, little Elida called, but on, on he went to- 
 wards the great house on the hill. They were greatly 
 perplexed, and a friendly neighbor went in pursuit of 
 him. In a short time, grandpa Lovering and wife 
 arrived. Calmly they looked upon the silent, upturned 
 face ; tearfully they listened to the story of her dying 
 hours. And when Hester inquired if they had met Mor- 
 gan on the way, they replied that a man, who might have 
 been he, leaped over the wall and fled hurriedly out of 
 sight. 
 
 " 0, it was he I" said Hester ; " he could not bear to 
 meet you." 
 
 She showed them his letter to Harmony, which had 
 been lying beneath the pillow. They read it, and wept 
 afresh. 
 
 " 0, if it might have been ! " they said ; " if she could
 
 60 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 have lived to realize those bright, fond hopes we all 
 indulged ! all but you, Hester ; you seemed to be clearer 
 sighted than the rest of us." 
 
 " But I was once as blind as the blindest concerning 
 Mrs. Lentell," she replied. " 0, Mary, when this is over 
 you shall know my secret, which I have so stubbornly 
 kept. But think you Morgan will adhere to his good 
 resolutions ? " 
 
 "I cannot tell," said grandpa; "I fear not; but I 
 must seek him and obtain permission to bury this dust 
 with her kindred, and among those who knew and loved 
 her. Twenty-six years old to-day ! Ten years a wife, 
 and four times a mother," he mused. " that I could 
 recall the past ! " 
 
 Morgan arrived at the great house in a state bordering 
 on insanity. Bending over the affrighted Abigail, he 
 exclaimed, vehemently, " Murderer ! where is your ac- 
 complice, your mother ? Where, where is she ? Tell 
 me before I " 
 
 Just then the friend who had followed him arrived, 
 and answered the question Abigail was too much alarmed 
 to answer. 
 
 " She has gone for you." 
 
 " She needn't," was the sharp reply ; " the work is all 
 done. She is dead ; and now I shall drink, and drink, 
 and drink, until I forget it all. That's what she herself 
 has taught me. When Harmony used to plead with me 
 not to drink the damning beverage, she used to say, 
 ' Morgan, I would have my rum, in spite of her ; you 
 work hard and need it.' Didn't I mind her ? didn't I ? " 
 he groaned. " Yes, I minded her, wretch that I was, 
 and if there is a God in heaven, I'll mind her still. She
 
 THE SAD RETURN. 61 
 
 shall cat her own words, and drink the bitter cup she 
 meant for another. 0, Harmony, my patient Harmony," 
 he said, in a wild, despairing tone. " If I could have 
 heard you say you forgave me, if I could have atoned 
 for the past, I might have been a man again, a father to 
 our children ; but now it is no use, no use." 
 
 " But she did forgive you, and loved you to the last," 
 said the friend who had followed him. " Come, go and 
 sec how peacefully she is sleeping, and receive her dying 
 message." 
 
 He dropped into a chair, covered his face for a 
 moment, and then said, mournfully, " I can't, I can't look 
 at her. I helped to kill her. 0, she was nothing but 
 a child a trusting, beautiful child when I brought 
 her here. I cannot see her, or meet her parents. They 
 are there ; how they must hate me ! I hate myself, and 
 God hates me I I must drink. I haven't tasted rum 
 these three weeks, and never meant to again ; but I 
 must now," he said, fiercely. 
 
 He opened the closet, where the full decanters always 
 stood, and drank like one determined to forget, in spite , 
 of his friend's remonstrances. 
 
 He reminded him of his children, of friends who loved 
 him, of happiness, and respectability in the future. 
 
 "Friends!" he exclaimed, in a mocking tone. "If 
 my own mother is so false, what can I expect of others ? 
 If she and Abigail would sacrifice my happiness to spite 
 an innocent woman, where in the wide world, think you, 
 can I find happiness ? It is all a sham. No, they have 
 helped me make this bed, and now they must lie in it." 
 
 lie soon sank into a state of helpless intoxication, 
 from which he could not be aroused.
 
 62 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 Poor, miserable, mistaken mother ! you have been 
 playing a dangerous game. You commenced early in 
 life to make false moves, regardless of the feelings or 
 sufferings of others ; you moved on, and now you must 
 reap as you have sown. You gloried in the firm, steady 
 reins with which you guided your family. You gov- 
 erned them by fear ; they obeyed because it was more 
 comfortable to do so. Selfishness was the groundwork 
 of your power over them. You laid a sandy foundation 
 to stand on in the decrepitude of old age ; you forgot 
 that any government based on fraud, deception, and un- 
 godliness must perish ; and that truth, justice, and 
 humanity were the only firm foundations to build upon. 
 You forgot that " righteousness exalteth," while " sin is 
 a reproach." Alas ! you will find that the way of the 
 transgressor is hard. By the untimely death of your 
 son's wife, and the terrible fall of your son into inebriety, 
 you are left in possession of your ill-gotten property ; but 
 a curse is resting upon it, and in your own breast you 
 have the witness of your wicked deeds. Yes, your con- 
 science will ever accuse you, and your firmly misguided 
 children will prove a terrible scourge. 
 
 Mr. Lovering was allowed to follow his own plans 
 without molestation. Slowly the little procession moved 
 along ; sadly the friends of other days gathered around 
 the sweet flower, so early faded. Tenderly they laid 
 her in the bosom of mother earth, " under the sod." 
 
 " O spirit, freed from bondage, 
 
 Rejoice ; thy work is done I 
 The weary world is 'neath thy feet, 
 Thou brighter than the sun !
 
 THE SAD RETURN. 63 
 
 " Awake, and breathe the living air 
 
 Of our celestial clime ; 
 Awake to love that knows no change, 
 Thou who hast done with time. 
 
 " Awake ! lift up thy joyful eyes ; 
 
 See ! all heaven's host appears ; 
 And be thou glad exceedingly, 
 Thou who hast done with tears. 
 
 " Awake ! ascend ! Thou art not now 
 
 With those of mortal birth; 
 The living God hath touched thy lips, 
 Thou who hast done with earth."
 
 64 1JESTER STRONG'S LIFE WOKE. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 WHAT BECAME OF THE CHILDREN. THE MIDNIGHT CALL. 
 
 HARMONY'S death, and the trying circumstances attend- 
 ing it, hastened an event which had long been dreaded 
 by the family. Consumption had been kept from fasten- 
 ing its fatal fangs upon Mrs. Lovering by the utmost 
 care and vigilance. 
 
 Under the pressure of this great and peculiar trial, she 
 failed very fast. The motherless children of her daughter 
 she looked upon as worse than orphaned ; she saw their 
 father rushing down the awful precipice of inebriety ; 
 he would only be a shame to them a terror, and not a 
 protector. 
 
 She shuddered when she thought of them with their 
 grandmother Lentell. Her own house was being filled 
 with her son's children. The son's wife evidently thought 
 Harmony's children intruders, and treated them as such. 
 With the true instincts of a wo'man, she saw a life of 
 suffering and danger before them ; and the feeling that 
 she was helpless unable to save them from it was 
 depressing. 
 
 Again and again she was assured by her husband and 
 children that they should be taken care of. She saw, 
 better than they did, the difficulties in the way. 
 
 " If Hester was young," she used to say, " I should
 
 WHAT BECAME OF THE CHILDREN. 65 
 
 foci easy about them. The remainder of Harmony's 
 portion would support them until old enough to earn a 
 living 1 . If they could all be with her, I should feel satis- 
 fied. Old Mrs. Lentell would not trouble them, I 
 think." 
 
 " Never fear for those children," Hester used to say, 
 cheerfully ; "their dying mother committed them to One 
 who is strong and mighty even the orphan's God. 
 Can you not trust them in his hands ? They will have 
 trials, disappointments, and temptations, as who does 
 not ? but they will come off victors, every one of them. 
 They will have to struggle with poverty and disgrace on 
 their father's account; but it will make them strong and 
 self-reliant. Have you forgotten how destitute I was 
 left at an early age ? Has my life been more dark and 
 cheerless than that of thousands who started with 
 brighter prospects ? Do you suppose I have forgotten 
 who it was that made my childhood like a summer's 
 day ? Believe me, Mary, I have a pleasure before me, 
 and not a task. I wish I was young, for their sakes ; 
 but for myself, it seems good to near my glorious home. 
 How often the sweet voice and dying words of our dar- 
 ling come back to me in the still watches of the night ! 
 0, Mary, she looked so much like Horace that it seemed 
 like losing him again when she died. The sweet 
 verses she repeated contained the very essence of our 
 last conversation together. Let me repeat her words 
 again, and then tell me, Mary, if we can regret to go 
 when such blessedness is in store for us. We shall not 
 only see our Lord, and be clothed in the brightness of 
 his ineffable glory, but we shall meet the loved and lost. 
 Ay, we shall know them, too ; I feel assured of it. Yes, 
 5
 
 66 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 those that arc one in Christ on earth, shall be one in Christ 
 
 in heaven. 
 
 ' We shall know each other there.' " 
 
 " Your words comfort me," said Mrs. Lovering. " My 
 faith grows brighter. Repeat that last verse again ; 
 yes, I think it will be so. We shall arrive there by 
 many different roads, some dark and thorny, some on 
 beds of down, some on straw, perchance ; but it will be 
 all the same when we reach the haven of rest, whether 
 the voyage be rough and full of peril, or smooth and 
 prosperous. Don't you think so ? " 
 
 " No, not all the same, for the torn and tempest- 
 tossed, the benighted traveller, will be filled with a ful- 
 ness of joy and exultation which the peaceful, prosper- 
 ous voyager can never know. Mary, we must be weary 
 before we can fully appreciate rest ; we must drink the 
 bitter cup of sorrow before we can experience the ful- 
 ness of heavenly bliss. It must be so, for ' lie doeth alt 
 things well.' " 
 
 As yet all the children had remained at grandpa Lov- 
 ering's. It was pitiful to see the little things trying to 
 be so good and patient for fear of being sent to grandma 
 Lentell's. They said but little about their mother, ex- 
 cept at night, when auntie Hester put them to bed ; then 
 the pent-up feelings must find vent. Their artless talk 
 often brought tears to those eyes which were wont to 
 weep with those who weep, and sometimes, as the chil- 
 dren knelt around her for their .evening prayer, little 
 Eli da would say, 
 
 " P'ease God, let me stay wis auntie ever so long, and 
 don't die her, too, as mumma did. Dear God, don't, for 
 Jesus' sake. AIIK-M."
 
 WHAT BECAME OF TFIE CHILDREN. 61 
 
 This simple prayer always seemed to send a wave of 
 uncontrollable grief over Wallace and Winnie. It re- 
 minded them that the time was drawing near when they 
 must be separated from her and from each other. 
 
 " 0," said Winnie on such an occasion, "if God is so 
 good, why didn't he let Wallace and I go to heaven with 
 our sweet mamma when there was nobody to want us here ? 
 I heard aunt Judith say so to-day. She said she couldn't 
 have us round in the way. 0, I have tried to be so still 
 and good, and play with her baby when I wanted to go 
 out of doors ! Don't you pity us, auntie ? " she sobbed. 
 
 Hester moved the wondering baby, and took her in 
 her arms to comfort her, while Wallace and Elida still 
 knelt, weeping. 
 
 "Pity you? Yes, darling, and God pities you. He 
 will make it all right, dear. He loves you, and we 
 all love you. He has a nice, snug little nest for you 
 somewhere. He wants you down here for something ; 
 perhaps it is to take care of me when I am old ; perhaps 
 it is to watch over this little kitten when I am gone 
 home. Let me lay her in your arms ; see, she is almost 
 smiling at you ! " 
 
 The children's attention was now turned upon baby. 
 Soon Elida was seated on the other knee, playing with 
 baby's tiny feet. 
 
 " I want a place, too," said Wallace. 
 
 " If auntie had two laps, you could has one," said 
 Elida. 
 
 " He shall have my place," said Winnie ; "he is the 
 youngest." 
 
 Baby was delighted at the novelty, and watched the 
 proceedings with her large, calm eyes, with quiet 
 i'arii Hi.
 
 68 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 When the children's minds were sufficiently diverted, 
 Hester gave them their good-night kiss, and they retired 
 to the sweet, refreshing sleep of childhood. Not so with 
 Hester ; the failing health of her dear friend, Mrs. Lover- 
 ing, whom she had loved as a sister, together with the 
 care and anxiety of providing suitable places for the two 
 eldest children, weighed down even her elastic spirits. 
 And then there were the little ones her own peculiar 
 charge to care for. She wished, if possible, to secure 
 them all against the interference and domination of Mrs. 
 Lentell ; but how that could be done was a question 
 which had caused her many sleepless nights. 
 
 " She will not meddle with them till they are old 
 enough to work/' she used to say to Mr. Levering ; 
 " but they must be placed entirely beyond her control, 
 if possible." 
 
 As she sat revolving the matter over and over in her 
 mind after the children were asleep, she could not refrain 
 from weeping, until her broad chest shook with emotion. 
 She had forgotten the little wise, old-fashioned baby in 
 her lap, who had been looking on in blank amazement. 
 At length she was aroused by a little frightened, quiver- 
 ing cry. 
 
 " Why, darling, darling pet," she said, softly, tender- 
 ly ; " precious birdie, did she think her auntie was 
 crazy ? Did she, darling one ? " said Hester, smiling 
 through her tears. " Naughty little dirlie, not to let 
 her auntie-mamma cry her cry out." 
 
 Thus she soothed and quieted the little thing, and then 
 sung a gentle lullaby till baby was fast asleep. 
 
 Noble, conquering TIc>l< r ! Belf-denying, loving Hes- 
 ter ! Did you see the infant'^ angel smile, 0, so sweet- 
 ly ! as h<> nuide the record of the d;iy ?
 
 WHAT BECAME OF THE CHILDREN. 69 
 
 Did you catch tlio faintest echo 
 
 Of the music soft and clear, 
 Floating round the sainted mother 
 
 When you soothed her children's fear? 
 Did you hear the glad hosannas 
 
 When you kissed away the tear? 
 Hester, there's a crown preparing ; 
 
 Many, many stars are there : 
 In that crown shall shine those children, 
 
 Bright, and beautiful, and fair. 
 
 0, Hester, you are rich in heaven. Yours are the 
 gold-bearing- bonds of loving words and deeds. There 
 will be no discount on your treasures, Hester ; they are 
 secure in God's eternal safe. " Inasmuch as ye did it 
 unto these little ones, ye did it unto me." 
 
 Open thine eye of faith, 0, Hester, beloved of God', 
 and chosen ; for this thy last shall be thy crowning 
 work. Only believe, and thou shalt see the desire of thy 
 large, unselfish heart accomplished concerning these 
 children, for thy prayers have been accepted in heaven, 
 and even now the answer is at hand. 
 
 " Hester, Hester ! " called Mr. Lovering, cheerfully, 
 just as she was laying little Fostina in bed. 
 
 Hester's heart gave a bound, a throb, and then stood 
 almost still, as she hastened down stairs. 
 
 " Here are the papers," said he, meeting her at the 
 door ; " they are ours, thank God ! " 
 
 " Thank God ! " ejaculated Hester, fervently ; "then 
 they are ours. Precious children ! At this moment I 
 would give a great deal to be young and rich. But 
 riches often prove a snare, or take to themselves wings 
 and fly away when most needed ; youth soon passes 
 
 away, and beauty is vain. The wise man says, 
 
 | 
 ' All is vanity and vexation of spirit.'
 
 70 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 But this is a happy hour for me. I must make the best 
 use of my time while I stay here. Who knows but I 
 may bring them a good piece on their way yet ? IIow 
 did you find Morgan ? " 
 
 - " 0, don't ask me ; it is too sad. He seems to have 
 but one aim, or object, and that is to torment and pun- 
 ish his mother. The suit at law was stopped by their 
 giving bonds for his support." 
 
 " Is that so ? " said Hester, sadly. " Poor woman, 
 she will reap a fearful reward for her life of sin and self- 
 ishness. Now, Mr. Levering, my plans are all made. 
 Don't oppose me will you ? I have thought it all 
 over. I shall buy half of grandpa Manlie's house. They 
 arc upwards of ninety, you know, and cannot have much 
 longer to stay here. They wish it, and say it will be a 
 comfort to have me with them. Their daughter loves 
 my children (don't be jealous now ; you have lots besides 
 these), or, if you choose, our children. "Will that do 
 better ? " 
 
 " Yes," said grandpa ; " I shall claim a share in them, 
 and wish that I was situated so that two of them could 
 stay here. But we have never quarrelled with Judith, and 
 don't mean to ; she has her good qualities, but patience 
 and benevolence are not among them. If it were 
 Edward's or Frank's wife, they could stay and wel- 
 come." 
 
 " Well," said Hester, " never mind. I know Judith ; 
 they can't stay here ; besides, Mary is not able to have 
 them ; they must go as soon as possible. I want them 
 all for a few months, until this great sorrow has worn off 
 a little. So take us to the village to-morrow won't 
 you ? Change of scene will- do them good. It would
 
 THE MIDNIGHT CALL. 71 
 
 have broken your heart to hear them talk to-night. 
 They that is, Wallace and Winnie know they arc not 
 wanted by their aunt ; they feel it." 
 
 " Poor lambs ! " said grandpa. " But what shall wo 
 do without you, Hester ? What will Mary do ? " 
 
 " The girls must come home in turns," said Hester. 
 " I should love to remain, but duty calls me away." 
 
 " But you can't think of keeping them all," persisted 
 grandpa ; "it is too much. Their uncles and aunts 
 must take Wallace and Winnie." 
 
 " Yes," said Hester, " I do think of keeping them all 
 for the present. Some time they may have to go, but 
 not now. Don't urge ; the little things have had as 
 much suffering as they can bear. We will see what can 
 be done for them in the spring." 
 
 Mrs. Lovering saw the wisdom of Hester's plan, and 
 cheerfully submitted. It was pleasant to think that in 
 all probability Hester would, after all, be with her aged 
 parents to soothe their declining days. Horace, to be 
 sure, would not be with her ; but they would meet him 
 on the other shore. Mr. Manlie refused to take a cent 
 for the house, but said to her, solemnly, as he placed the 
 deed of one half of it in her hand, 
 
 " Take it ; it should have been yours long ago, my 
 daughter. God bless you, and spare you to bless others 
 for a long time yet." 
 
 And so the children found a home for the time. 
 Would that it could have been a permanent one for 
 them all. 
 
 " Passing away " is written upon all things below ; so, 
 when the summer flowers departed, and the autumn 
 leaves fluttered in the chilly wind, when the green grass
 
 72 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 lay crisp and silvered, Mary M. Levering, the loving 
 daughter, sister, wife, and mother, went to sleep on 
 earth to wake in heaven. None knew the hour of her 
 departure. They came for her in the silent watches of 
 the night, and bore her away without a sigh, a groan, or 
 a sad farewell. 
 
 " You have rested nicely to-night, mother," said the 
 tender husband ; but no answer came. " Mother ! " and 
 the voice was slightly startled. " Mother ! " bending 
 over her ; but there was no voice she was gone. 0, 
 yes, she had gone so quietly, so peacefully, she was 
 resting so profoundly, that the tears and sighs of those 
 who loved her did not disturb her rest. Dear weepers, 
 would you have it otherwise ? Would you call her back 
 to buffet the turbulent waves of the dark river ? Would 
 you, for a few, last, gasping words, call her back to 
 struggle with the mighty conqueror of life, and see her 
 yield, reluctantly, perhaps, through fleshly fear ? 
 
 0, no, you would not. Thank God, rather, that she 
 is so safely through ; that she is so soon with Christ, who 
 careth for you. 
 
 " Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in 
 the morning." 
 
 "Weep on and wait."
 
 THE CIIILDBEN'S PRATTLE. 73 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE CHILDREN'S PRATTLE. THE WIFE'S BURDEN, OB A 
 SYNOPSIS OF MR. GILES. 
 
 LOOKING out of the window, watching the carriages, 
 the school children, the girls from the mill as they went 
 and came, went and came, six times a day, six days in 
 the week, in sunshine and rain, was fine entertainment 
 for the little country children. 
 
 It pleased them ; it made the days seem short ; it was 
 something new. It is no use to chide these children 
 for their love of novelty : we all love it. 
 
 " This is a nicer place than the country," said Wal- 
 lace ; "don't you think so, auntie Hester? There is 
 more boys, and horses, and funny carts, and stores, and 
 a factory with a bell to it. I should like to pull the 
 rope and make the bell dingle. Say, auntie, isn't it 
 nice ? " 
 
 " Yes, dear, this is a pretty place, and there are a 
 great many things to amuse children from the countiy. 
 But don't you think you will miss the merry birds and 
 flowers, the orchard and the berry pasture, the little 
 brook where your water-wheel is ? " 
 
 Wallace looked serious for a moment, and then 
 said, 
 
 " Poh ! no, indeed ! My water-wheel was a little thing ; 
 they've got a bigger stream here, with a water-wheel on
 
 74 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 it larger than our barn. The man let me see it the 
 other day ; he said it would smash me up though, if I 
 went near it." 
 
 " That is so," said Hester. " You must not go near 
 the mill without my permission. There was a little boy 
 killed there once." 
 
 " Tell us about it," cried the children in chorus. " Tell 
 us, auntie." 
 
 " 0, he disobeyed his parents, and went in swimming, 
 and was carried over the mill-dam and killed." 
 
 " 0, dear me ! " said Elida. " Wasn't he sorry he 
 went and got in, and didn't mind better ? Was he 
 all dead when he got down to the bottom of the dam, 
 auntie ? " 
 
 " Yes, dear, and terribly bruised ; it was a sad sight 
 to see." 
 
 " Well," said Wallace, thoughtfully, " I'm glad it 
 wasn't mo. Can I play on the bridge sometimes, if I 
 will be careful not to fall in the water, or tear my 
 clothes ? " 
 
 " Yes, dear," said Hester, smiling ; " the bridge is be- 
 low the dam. I think you may go there safely, pro- 
 vided you will be careful." 
 
 " The mill is a buzzing thing," said Winnie, very 
 demurely. " If it would stop buzzing, I should like to 
 work there ; but the noise makes me crazy. Don't you 
 think it is hateful, auntie ? It keeps saying things." 
 
 "Does it, sister?" said Wallace; "what docs it 
 say ? " 
 
 " Why, in the spin-room it says ' buzzy-uzzy, buzzy- 
 uzzy ' all the time ; and in the weave-room it says 
 ' clap-it-to-clap, clap-it-to-clap.' Why, the looms ain't
 
 THE WIFE'S BURDEN. 75 
 
 a bit like grandma Lentell's ; but I felt as if she was 
 going to box my ears every minute while we staid there ; 
 and after we got home, I kept hearing it, and after I 
 went to bed it was ' clap-it-to-clap ' till I went to sleep ; 
 and in the morning my head felt sick." 
 
 " Well," said Elida, encouragingly, " 'haps it will be 
 stiller when it grows older ; then you can work there. 
 I'se doin' to spin when I'se old, so I can have them 
 pretty things they wind the thread on to play wis. 
 Won't it be funny ? And, Winnie, if you work in the 
 weave-room, you can has some too : why, I seed a boy 
 carry a bushel full up there ; and, Wallace, when you's 
 big enough to carry the basket, you can has some ; and 
 then we will bring some to totty mite, and aunty will let 
 us play wis them. 0, how funny ! " and Elida laughed 
 and clapped her chubby hands gleefully. 
 
 Baby jumped and crowed, which was always the 
 prelude to a chorus of happy voices, and a good time 
 generally. 
 
 Hester laughed heartily at Elida' s concluding speech, 
 though feeling somewhat sad. It grieved her to think 
 that the children must soon be separated. The dear old 
 people in the other part were kind and patient, but she 
 knew they needed rest and quiet at their time of life ; 
 besides, she did not feel able or competent to look after 
 them all. 
 
 She wished she could have kept Winnie instead of 
 Elida, she would have been such a help about baby. 
 Elida's disposition seemed to have caught the brightness 
 of her mother's life, while living with her husband in 
 the aged widow's family. Her heart was like a little 
 fountain of sunshine and gladness. She would mako
 
 T6 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 friends more readily than Winnie, who was timid, care- 
 taking, and sensitive, but amiable and unselfish. But 
 her aunt Elevia Giles said her husband was unwilling 
 she should take one of the children, unless she could 
 have the eldest. 
 
 " He thinks I couldn't get along with the work ; 
 should have to hire washing, sewing, &c., for some time. 
 He says Winnie could help a great deal now, and pretty 
 soon she would be old enough to " 
 
 " But he seems to be looking at only one side of the 
 question," said Ilester. '-'Now, I love all these children 
 for their mother's sake, and presume you do ; but if you 
 go to making all those nice calculations about the prob- 
 able benefit of adopting one of them, it will be a failure. 
 Love, mutual love, and benevolence, must be the basis of 
 such a relation, and not self-interest, or it will prove a 
 bitter mockery, to the child at least. If you take one of 
 them from good and noble motives, such as your grand- 
 parents had in adopting me in my infancy, why, a bless- 
 ing will grow out of it ; otherwise it will be a snare. 
 Don't you think so, Levie ? " 
 
 " Yes, Hester, I do ; I am sure grandpa's adopting 
 you has been a real blessing to us all. What should we 
 have done without you ? But Mason and I don't think 
 alike about many things, and it don't do for me to op- 
 pose him since we were married, unless I wish to live 
 in a quarrel. I should prefer Elida ; there is just differ- 
 ence enough between her age and Unie's. They would 
 soon be companions for each other, and we are abun- 
 dantly able to bring them up. I wish Masqn was differ- 
 ent. Riches are worse than useless, unless they can be 
 used without so much " Here the young wife bowed 
 her head and wept.
 
 THE WIFE'S BURDEN. 7f 
 
 Hester was astonished. Elevia had not been two years 
 married : she had supposed her very happily situated in 
 all respects. True, she had noticed a change in her, a 
 care-worn, weary look, and had attributed it to the 
 responsibilities of housekeeping, or ill health. She 
 had seen but little of Mason Giles, and thought him 
 remarkably pleasant and perfectly devoted to his amiable 
 wife. Hester thought a great deal in those few mo- 
 ments. She had known Elevia from her very birth ; if 
 there was trouble in her lot, she felt sure the fault was 
 not hers. She had become so accustomed to human 
 nature in all its moods and tenses, could read it so 
 correctly that she did not hesitate mentally to pronounce 
 Mason a mean, miserly, wilful, deceitful man. How 
 could she let her little sensitive Winnie go into such an 
 atmosphere ? 
 
 " I am sorry for you, Levie," she said aloud. " So 
 all is not gold that glitters. Poor child, then you have 
 a skeleton in your nice home. Keep it out of sight as 
 much as possible, darling. Never look at it when you 
 can avoid doing so. Every look will make it more 
 hideous. They have something of the kind everywhere, 
 dear. I have learned a great deal going among the sick. 
 Child, if we would be happy, it must be in spite of 
 something. It must be by shutting our eyes upon some 
 things, and resolutely fixing them upon others more 
 pleasant and agreeable." 
 
 " But, auntie, you don't think a woman can be happy 
 in spite of her husband do you?" said Elevia, tear- 
 fully. " It seems monstrous to think of it ; how can 
 she ? 
 
 " In many ways," was the quiet reply. " If wo
 
 78 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 truly love God, and trust iu Christ, no mortal can make 
 us entirely miserable. There is a peace which the world 
 can neither give nor take away, you know ; and, as I 
 said before, if you have a grief, don't nurse it, or it will 
 become too mighty for you. If you have a cross, take 
 it up bravely, or you will stumble over it ; if a skeleton, 
 shut it up, hide it, or with patient labor mould it into an 
 image of beauty ; or, if this cannot be done, cover it 
 as much as possible under the beautiful mantle of charity, 
 ' which suffereth long and is kind.' But don't try to do 
 this in your own strength, dear ; you cannot. But 
 there is a promise, ' As thy day is, so shall thy strength 
 be.' Lean upon it, Levie ; trust in the ' elder Brother ; ' 
 believe, and ye shall find rest." 
 
 " 0," said Elevia, " I did not mean to speak of this. 
 I have never spoken of it before ; but I am so disap- 
 pointed, so distressed, that it seems to me I can't b,car 
 it alone much longer. I know what you say about the 
 promises of God is true, but I am not a Christian I 
 wish I was. But even then, I should need earthly friends 
 to counsel and comfort me. Mother has been so feeble 
 ever since my marriage, that I could never speak of 
 it to her. It would have been such a comfort if I 
 could ! " 
 
 "Yes, dear, so it would; but I was your mother's 
 friend, and yours too : speak to me freely and without 
 reserve ; perhaps I can help you. ' Bear one another's 
 burdens,' is the injunction, you know." 
 
 " And you have done that most faithfully, auntie. I 
 do wrong to burden you with my trouble ; but it is so 
 hard to bear it alone. To have Mr. Giles so pleasant 
 and accommodating before folks, and then treat me like
 
 THE WIFE'S BURDEN. 19 
 
 a hired servant or a slave when alone, is so cruel ! I 
 never do anything to suit him. The food is not just 
 right ; his linen is too stiff one week, and too limber tho 
 next ; if a thing is faultless, he says nothing about it. 
 If the pies are a little too sweet or sour, he talks about 
 it continually till the last one is eaten, and often alludes 
 to it afterwards to tease me. Baby has always been 
 troublesome. And now, when I work hard all day, and am 
 kept awake half the night with the poor little thing, he 
 thinks it strange I should be tired. When I feel sad, he 
 calls me cross. He never tries in any way to help me. 
 This morning I felt sick and discouraged ; little Uriie was 
 restless all night, and worrisome in the morning, so that, 
 although I tried hard, I did not get breakfast on the 
 table till five minutes after the usual time. He talked of 
 it all meal-time ; I told him how it was ; he laughed, and 
 said he knew women who had brought up ten children, 
 and weren't dead yet. I told him my head ached ; he 
 laughed again, and said it always ached since I was 
 married. 0, auntie, that isn't half! I can't tell it. 
 But the hardest thing of all is to have him so smooth 
 and nice in company ; that disgusts me. I am afraid I 
 hate him for it. If he can be so pleasant and obliging 
 in company, he can when alone with me. If he was 
 always alike, I should think, with Mr. Phrenol, that it was 
 his ' bumps,' and he couldn't help it. Now, tell me," 
 sobbed the unhappy wife, " if you think I can enjoy 
 much with my husband ? Can I ever respect him, and 
 be happy again ? " 
 
 " I can't tell," said Hester ; " I don't know him ; if I 
 did I could advise you. But all things arc possible 
 with God. If he is naturally affectionate, you may
 
 80 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 conquer him by kind, patient words and deeds ; by 
 mildly but firmly insisting upon having your rights re- 
 spected ; by letting him see that you mean to do right, 
 the best you can, and all you can, and are determined 
 that you will not be found fault with continually. Child, 
 your situation is a trying one ; you need that wisdom 
 which comcth from above to direct you ; seek to be 
 reconciled to him first of all. You are suffering from 
 two causes overwork and disappointed affection. Now, 
 if I understand the case, you do not need, a little girl, 
 but a lai'ge one, to do the heavy work and assist in 
 tending the baby. Then you would be strong to con- 
 tend with difficulties, and make a strenuous effort to 
 remedy those tilings which annoy you so much. It vexes 
 some men to see their wives always looking pale and 
 sad ; and yet they have not sense enough to know that 
 they can't help it, when body and mind are overtaxed. 
 They don't realize how hard it is to be broken of one's 
 rest, or how much labor it is to do the work for a family. 
 Xow, if you could get a girl to relieve you some, and 
 then apply yourself vigorously to correcting your own 
 and your husband's faults, you might work wonders. 
 Human nature is a strangely perverted thing, and tern'- 
 My inconsistent; but patience and perseverance, it is 
 said, will remove mountains. Will you try my remedy, 
 Levie ? or work out for yourself a better one ? " 
 
 " 0, auntie, I wish I could. Did you ever know any 
 one so unhappy as I am to become happy again ? " 
 
 " 0, yes, child ; a bad beginning sometimes ends well. 
 You must labor, and wait, and pray." 
 
 " But, auntie, my face is such a tell-tale. When he 
 says unkind things to me, I feel as if I should die, and
 
 THE WIFE'S BURDEN. 81 
 
 I show it. "When he pats me on the cheek and pets 
 me in company, I feel indignant, insulted, and disgusted ; 
 I can't help showing it, you see, and people think I am 
 hateful, without affection or gratitude. I know it, I see 
 it in their looks. And sometimes women who I know 
 have kind, tender, thoughtful husbands, say to me, 
 ' Why, your husband idolizes you, Mrs. Giles ; I wish my 
 husband thought as much of me, 7 &c. That cuts like a 
 knife. My own sisters speak in that way. And then 
 he loves to tease me before people, and will speak of my 
 mistakes in housekeeping in such a pleasant, jocose way, 
 that people think strange I cannot receive it in the same 
 spirit. 0, they don't know how often I have heard it at 
 home, and how differently, until the mention of it chafes 
 and galls my feelings. But I would be anything, and 
 bear or do anything, if he only loved me. Then I might 
 in some way work my way out of this darkness, and be 
 
 " God can help you out of this trouble, my child ; 
 trust in him ; do not despair. I have seen what prom- 
 ised to be very unhappy marriages turn out well. I have 
 also seen what appeared to be very happy marriages 
 become wretched ones by mismanagement and want of 
 patience. Take courage, my child ; be firm, gentle, and 
 brave, and all will be well sometime. n 
 
 Mason Giles had been a devoted lover ; but when the 
 prize was won, he threw off all disguise, and treated his 
 wife according to the instincts of his sordid nature. 
 Indeed, she became a kind of safety-valve, through which 
 his selfishness escaped, and made him appear altogether 
 better to neighbors and citizens. His farm was adjacent 
 to the village, and Winnie would attend the village 
 6
 
 82 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE "WORK. 
 
 school, and could see her little sisters often. That was a 
 strong inducement to Hester ; but she saw great obstacles 
 in the way of her going, and raised objections. But 
 grandpa, uncles, and aunts were against her, and she 
 consented on condition that at the end of the year she 
 should return to her if she chose.
 
 A TEAGIC SCENE IN VILLAGE LIFE. 83 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 A TRAGIC SCENE IN VILLAGE LIFE. 
 
 WALLACE saw and heard much to perplex him in vil- 
 lage life. 
 
 "Why, auntie," he said one day, "there are a good 
 many boys here that don't mind their mothers ; and they 
 say great, big, swear words, and fight. It isn't as nice 
 here as I thought it was. The good boys do it, auntie." 
 
 " They do ! " said Hester ; " who are they ? " 
 
 " Why, the minister's little boy swore ; Jack Stillman 
 told him what to say, arid then all the boys laughed. 
 Jack told him to say it to the old man when he got home. 
 0, auntie, won't his father feel sorry ? " 
 
 " Yes, dear, the boys were very wicked ; but little 
 Willie did not know what the words meant. His parents 
 will tell him they are naughty, and he will never use them 
 again. What makes you think the boys disobey their 
 mothers, Wallace ? " 
 
 Wallace hung his head, and blushed. 
 
 " Yous must tell auntie," said Elida, " or yous will be 
 disobejent youself." 
 
 " Yes, tell auntie," said Winnie ; " we ought to tell 
 her everything, as we did mamma." 
 
 waited, and after a few moments Wallace began. 
 
 " Well, auntie, you know you forbid my going to the
 
 84 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 mill, and I haven't; but the boys, tease me to all the 
 time. I tell them you don't allow it ; and they laugh, 
 and call me ' baby ' and you an ' old fuss.' I threw a 
 stone at them, though, and I wish I had hit Jack, he is 
 so mean." 
 
 " 0, I am sorry you did that, Wallace," said Hester. 
 " I knew a boy once that threw a stone when he was 
 angry, and hit a good little girl, and put her eye out." 
 
 " 0, dear ! " said Winnie, covering her eyes. " Don't 
 do it ever again, Wallace, will you ? " 
 
 " Perhaps not ; I guess not, if there is any good little 
 girls round." 
 
 " Fro urn easy, Wallace," said Elida, " so God won't 
 know it." 
 
 " 0," said Hester, " God is everywhere, and he knows 
 everything. My dear boy, I hope you will remember 
 this. Can't you find some good little boy to play with ? " 
 
 " I know one," said the child, " but his clothes are 
 ragged." 
 
 Hester told him that God did not look at the clothing 
 of the body, but the state of the heart. 
 
 " A good child covered with rags is more pleasing in 
 his sight than a wicked child clothed in velvet. God 
 does not love disobedient children, for he has commanded 
 them to obey." 
 
 " Has he, auntie ? " said Elida. " Why, I never heard 
 him speak 'bout it." 
 
 Hester smiled, took down the Bible, and said, 
 
 " It is in this ; I will read it to you." 
 
 " Well," said Wallace, " those boys don't keep the 
 commandment." 
 
 " I am sorry," said Hester ; " God will not bless them
 
 A TRAGIC SCENE IN VILLAGE LIFE. 85 
 
 if they do so ; and they are on forbidden ground, and 
 are in danger of becoming very wicked men, and may 
 be left to commit some fearful crime, and pay the pen- 
 alty with their lives." 
 
 " 0, auntie, I am afraid somebody has committed one 
 now," said Winnie, springing from the window. " See, 
 they are carrying somebody into Mr. Gray's." 
 
 " 0, that is where the ragged boy lives," said Wallace ; 
 " his mother drinks rum ; the boys tease him about it." 
 
 " I hope you have not," said Hester, sorrowfully. 
 
 "Do she get intosticated' ? " said little Elida. "I 
 didn't know mammas ever did so. 0, how funny ! " 
 
 Hester saw that people were coming and going that a 
 crowd was collecting around Mr. Gray's. She thought 
 it must be something more than intoxication. Leaving 
 the baby with the children, she went to see if her assist- 
 ance was needed. 
 
 0, what a spectacle met her ! Mrs. Gray, when alone 
 with her baby, had emptied the contents of a tin pail, 
 which the village demon had filled for her that morning, 
 taking the very food from the little children's mouths in 
 payment, immediately after the distressed husband had 
 besought him not to furnish her with it. 
 
 " I want to get an honest living," was his reply. " It 
 is my business to sell ; if people make a bad use of it, 
 why, it is their lookout, not mine. I have the law on 
 my side, I believe." 
 
 "Yes," said the perplexed husband, "you have a 
 wicked, perverse law on your side, made by wicked and 
 perverse men, bound to live on the poor man's toil ; but 
 God's laws are against you, and he will vindicate my 
 cause.
 
 86 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 " You show no mercy to me, or my worse than mother- 
 less children ; and if God is true, you will receive none. 
 But I beg of you, Mr. Stillman, not to let her have any 
 to-day ; for I must leave home to work, or let them all 
 starve. The children are not safe with her, especially 
 the baby, for an hour, when she has it." 
 
 " Every one to his calling," was the unfeeling reply ; 
 and so she went again with her tin pail, and all the pork 
 the house contained in it ; and that hireling of Satan 
 took it, and gave her the fatal draught which took away 
 her reason, and made her an inanimate, loathsome thing. 
 
 She had fallen near the open fire, and the little innocent 
 baby's face was buried in the hot embers, where its voice 
 was soon hushed in death. Yes, it lay there, a naked, 
 blighted little corpse. 
 
 Hester found it lying there. " Thank God," she said 
 fervently, " that the angel of death was sent so swiftly 
 to unlock the door of life for this little sufferer." 
 
 The inebriate mother, all unconscious of her own con- 
 dition, or her baby's fate, lay there tossing her blistered, 
 unsightly limbs hither and thither in mortal anguish. 
 Her clothing had apparently taken fire from the infant's, 
 but she felt not the scorching heat until it was nearly 
 burned off. 
 
 Then her benumbed faculties were aroused sufficiently 
 for her to arise and stagger towards the store, which was 
 very near. She fell in a few moments, convulsed with 
 agony. Kidder Stillman was the first to discover her 
 terrible situation, and when a crowd gathered, he went 
 also among them. Hester saw that she was not needed, 
 and the scene was too appalling to gaze on from idle curi- 
 osity. Nothing could be done for Helen Gray: Her
 
 A TRAGIC SCENE IN VILLAGE LIFE. 87 
 
 strong physical powers might enable her to struggle 
 terrifically for an hour or two, but death was sure of its 
 victim. 
 
 " Kidder Stillman," said Hester, mournfully, "you see 
 what rum has done. Isn't it awful ? Have you seen the 
 innocent baby ? Go look at it ; what if it was yours ? 
 Look at that woman ; she is a wife ; what if it were your 
 wife ? It might have been. Helen was once fair, and 
 bright, and strong. She has been ruined by a weapon you 
 placed in her hand. Don't tell me it is your calling : I 
 know it is. Satan called you to it, just the same as he 
 calls the gambler to gamble, the thief to steal, the mur- 
 derer to kill. Your calling is just as honest as theirs ; 
 not more so ; you can't prosper in it always. 0, let this 
 most awful sight my eyes ever beheld be a warning to 
 you, and cease from your work of death." 
 
 Hester returned home with an indescribable feeling of 
 sadness. The children met her, eager to learn what had 
 happened. She disliked to chill and sadden them with 
 the recital of such a scene ; she softened the circun%- 
 stances as much as possible, and even then, they were 
 very much shocked. 
 
 " Where did she put the baby when she fell down ? " 
 said Winnie. 
 
 " 0, it has gone to sleep," said Hester. 
 
 " What will it do when it wakes up ? " said Winnie ; 
 " won't it cry after its mother ? " 
 
 " I guess not," said Hester ; " God will take care of it." 
 
 " Isn't he dood, auntie ? He takes care of all the 
 children that hasn't got no mothers. 0, he is nice. I 
 love him," said Elida. 
 
 "Well/' said Wallace, "Jack Stillrnan's father sold
 
 88 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 the rum, I s'pose didn't he ? Jack drinks it. I mean 
 to call him Jack JK/Zman now." 
 
 "And you t'row a 'tone at him," said little Elida, 
 "when there ain't no dood girls round won't you, 
 Wallace ? He is a naughty boy." 
 
 " My dear children," said Hester, " if you indulge in 
 such things you will be on dangerous ground ; and then 
 you will go from one wrong act to another, from one sin 
 to another, and perhaps you will become wicked enough 
 to sell rum, or drink it. And then you won't know 
 what you are about, and may do some awful deed, or 
 come to a terrible end, as poor Mrs. Gray has. And be 
 sure, Wallace, to avoid John Stillman as much as possi- 
 ble. He is a vile, bad boy." 
 
 " Yes, auntie, I will ; and shouldn't you think he 
 would be ashamed to tease us little boys so when he is 
 such a great big boy ? " said Wallace. " Shall I speak 
 to that poor ragged boy, and take hold of his hand when 
 the boys tease him, and lick um if they don't mind ? 
 ^hat won't be wicked will it, auntie ? " 
 
 " I think it is wrong to fight," said Hester. " If he 
 were insulted and abused, and you were strong enough 
 to defend him, that would be right ; but you are only a 
 little boy, and must content yourself with kind words." 
 
 " Mayn't I give him my new picture-book, auntie 
 it will please him." 
 
 "Yes," said Hester, " I think that will be a good 
 plan." 
 
 " And here's my baby-dollie," said Elida. " May I 
 gis her to the 'ittle girl ? You see her mother is all 
 burned up amost, and can't make her any now, for Mr. 
 Killman made her intosticated all dead eny most. You 
 can make me another some day."
 
 A TRAGIC SCENE IN VILLAGE LIFE. 89 
 
 " I don't know," said Hester, " that I shall have time ; 
 perhaps you had better keep that one. 77 
 
 Elida thought for a moment, looked at her baby, and 
 finally concluded to give up her treasure. 
 
 " Well, I guess I'll gis it to her ; I's got a 'ittle 
 waked up sister to play wis me. 77 
 
 And the heroine folded her chubby hands, and gave a 
 sigh of regret, or relief perhaps, that the deed was done. 
 
 "0, hum! 77 said the little thing. "I hope they 
 won't gis my dollie any sugar wis rum to it over there, 
 or she will be a 7 nebraite. I shan't be there to shake 
 my head and look sorry, as mamma iised to. One time 
 papa said, ' Sissy, take it, and papa will gis you a stick 
 of candy. 7 ' 
 
 " What did you do then, darling ? 77 
 
 " My mamma looked a *ittle, and I runned and put 
 my head in her lap, and said, ' Peep-boo, papa, peep- 
 aboo ! 77 
 
 " What did papa say then ? " 
 
 " 0, he laughed a 7 ittle, and drinked it all up. 77 
 
 " But what is the matter, pet ? " said Hester, as she 
 observed Winnie weeping very quietly. " What is the 
 matter, dear ? 77 
 
 " Why, auntie, I wish, 0, I wish God would let mo 
 go to mamma, I feel so bad. 77 
 
 " Why, darling child, what makes you feel so ? Don't 
 you love me and little brother and sisters ? 77 
 
 " Yes, auntie, I love you all ; but everybody dies so ! 
 My sweet mamma, my good, kind grandpa Lentell, and 
 my grandma Lovcring, have all died, 77 sobbed the child ; 
 " and now somebody is wicked, and Mrs. Gray is burned. 
 0, auntie, most everybody acts so that I want to die 
 before I go to live with aunt Elcvia. 77
 
 90 HESTER STRONG'S LIKE WORK. 
 
 Hester saw that the child had been looking- too much 
 at the dark side of life for her sensitive nature, aud strove 
 to turn her thoughts into a different channel. 
 
 Baby's wonderful perfections never failed to delight 
 the children. She was " so cunning," " so sweet," 
 " such a darling." There never was her equal, so they 
 all thought ; they loved her so Hester had only to hold 
 her up, or let her jump and crow, and immediately sad- 
 ness disappeared as if by magic. 
 
 "Do you know," said Hester, "that Christmas is 
 coming by and by ? Old St. Nicholas will be round 
 with his bag full of presents. We must all have our 
 stockings ready. I don't think he will pass us by do 
 you, Winnie ? " 
 
 The child drew nearer to Hester, and taking baby's 
 hand, smiled a sad, timid smile. 
 
 " He can't get much in her little bit of a sock can 
 he, auntie ? Yours will hold the most won't it ? " 
 
 " Yes ; and suppose we hang up a lot of mine ? Per- 
 haps the old gentleman won't notice the difference. 
 How will that do ?" 
 
 " I don't know," said Winnie, earnestly. " I should 
 like a big stocking full ; but then I shouldn't know 
 which was mine, or yours, or Wallace's ; and he would 
 know that Elida and baby hadn't such big feet. Be- 
 sides, I'm afraid he wouldn't have presents enough to 
 go all "round. No, auntie, the right way is the best." 
 
 " I shall hang up both of mine," said Wallace. " If 
 he wants more room he can have it." 
 
 " I, too," echoed Elida. " If he wises to gis me a 
 'ittle pony, he can tie it to the table can't he, auntie ? 
 and he can leave my candy on the top. 0, dear me, 
 hum ! Won't it be funny ? "
 
 A THAGIC SCENE IN VILLAGE LIFE. 91 
 
 " I wouldn't say ' hum ! ' darling," said Hester ; 
 " but I will tell you what we will do. We will spend 
 the day at uncle Frank's, if it is pleasant, and leave our 
 stockings hanging up." 
 
 " That will be funny," said little Sunshine, as Hester 
 called her. 
 
 And so, with pleasant thoughts in their young minds, 
 she listened to their evening prayer, and kissed them a 
 sweet good night. 
 
 Winnie lingered. 
 
 " What is wanting ? " said Hester, pleasantly. 
 
 " I want to know if my papa drinks rum now, auntie. 
 He told ma, in the letter, he never would." 
 
 " I can't exactly tell," said Hester. " I haven't seen 
 him, you know. I want my pet to look bright to- 
 morrow, for I am going to let her visit Susie Trueman. 
 So go to bed now." 
 
 " 0, auntie, she won't want to play with me if my papa 
 drinks rum. Let me stay with you all the time." 
 
 Hester was affected to tears by the sadness of the* 
 child. She was too young to taste the wormwood 
 and the gall of life. She laid little Fostina in the 
 cradle, took Winnie in her arms, and folded her to* her 
 bosom. 
 
 " What is it that troubles my. pet so ? Tell auntie all 
 about it ; auntie loves her." 
 
 " 0, I miss my mamma so ! I love you, too ; but I 
 want mamma. If I had a papa to love me, it would do," 
 she sobbed; " but I am afraid he is on the forbidden 
 ground, and will do something bad. 0, auntie, if God 
 would let me go to heaven, it would be so kind, or make 
 me a Christian, like you."
 
 92 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 Hester smoothed the bright brown hair tenderly, won- 
 dering 1 what she should do to comfort her. 
 
 " Little one," she said, " did I ever tell you how my 
 father and mother died when I was a little infant, leaving 
 me without brother or sister, uncle or aunt ? " 
 
 " No," said Winnie ; " tell me about it." 
 
 So Hester began the oft-repeated tale, making it grow 
 brighter and brighter as she proceeded. 
 
 " Hasn't God been good to me ? " she said, in conclu- 
 sion. 
 
 " Yes," said Winnie ; " but you are good, too." 
 
 "Not very," said Hester; "but God will be good to 
 you, my child. He wants you down here for something. 
 You must ask him to make you willing to stay. Sub- 
 mission to God is what you need. You must pray to 
 him, darling ; ask him to help you be good and happy, 
 and he will. That is the way I did. We must be will- 
 ing to do just what God wants us to, and then he will 
 be pleased with us and bless us. He says, ' Those that 
 seek me early shall find me.' Now go to sleep, dear, 
 and auntie will rock you, just as I do my little bit of a 
 pet."
 
 ME. TRUEMAN'S FAMILY. 93 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 MR. TRUEMAN'S FAMILY. PLEASANT MEMORIES. 
 
 " ALONZO," said Mrs. Trueman, " you remember Har- 
 mony Lovering ? " 
 
 " Yes ; she married that famous Mr. Lentell, I be- 
 lieve." 
 
 " Did you know she was dead, and that her four chil- 
 dren are living at Mr. Manlie's with Hester Strong?" 
 
 " No, indeed ; is that so ? Where is her husband? " 
 
 " Worse than dead. They tell me he has become a 
 real sot, and that Harmony died of neglect. I hear a 
 great deal said about old Mrs. Lentell ; I don't know 
 how much truth there is in it ; but if half is true, she is 
 a monster of selfishness, and as different from your 
 mother as sin from holiness. I mean to see Hester soon, 
 and know the truth of these stories, and see if I cannot 
 help her in some way. Only think of it ! At her time 
 of life, with four children, and one a baby ! " 
 
 " Well, I wish you would go over, Linnic," said Mr. 
 Trueman, thoughtfully. " We owe Hester a great debt 
 of gratitude. Do you know I think she saved your life 
 when you were so sick, after Gcorgie and Freddie died ? " 
 
 " No, I did not know you thought me in danger ; but 
 it did seem to me that I could not have lived without 
 her. I never shall forget the restful feeling which came 
 over me after she came ; and I cannot tell any one how
 
 94 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 tired and restless I was before. It did seem as if I could 
 never rest again on earth, and I felt willing to die even, 
 and leave you and all, if I could only rest. I never can 
 describe the feeling of relief I experienced when llester 
 put her arms around me and kissed me, saying, ' Poor 
 child, I know it all. There, now you can cry all 'you 
 wish to ; it will relieve you. Jesus wept at the grave 
 of a friend.' 0, it was so different from what others 
 said ! Even you, dear, thought it would hurt me to 
 weep, and never spoke of the children in my presence ; 
 so my grief lay like a mountain of lead on my heart ; it 
 was crushing, crushing the life out of me. Hester 
 seemed, in some way, to put her strong, loving soul 
 next to mine, and lift the mighty burden, so that I could 
 rest and sleep. She did not talk much at first, but al- 
 lowed me to, until my feelings were relieved. Then 
 I seemed to doze for a long time. I couldn't feel 
 the burden ; I only realized that I was weary, 0, so 
 weary ! and that Hester was tending me watching 
 me loving me. What is it, Alonzo, that makes Hes- 
 ter so acceptable to the sick and afflicted ? " 
 
 " I do not know, unless it is religion. She is a per- 
 son of strong, decided character, but perfectly under the 
 influence of the law of love to God and love to man. 
 She comes the nearest to my standard of .Christian char- 
 acter of any one I know." 
 
 " Yes, I think so ; but all Christians cannot minister 
 to the sick and suffering as she does. It seems to me 
 she is especially set apart for that peculiar work. She 
 must have received a baptism of suffering herself." 
 
 " Possibly it may be so,' 7 was the reply. " I think 
 I used to hear father and mother speak of a disappoint-
 
 PLEASANT MEMORIES. 95 
 
 rncnt she met with when young ; and then it is evident 
 ncr heart has always been in her work. She has made 
 it the study of her life to be useful, and has fairly earned 
 the reputation she enjoys. I wonder what the sick will 
 do now ? " 
 
 " Some one will be raised up to fill her place, I pre- 
 sume. I hope those children will find homes soon, for 
 her sake." 
 
 " She is sixty, I believe ; but it doesn't seem possible. 
 Her heart never will grow old. I can't understand it ; 
 she has worked hard. It must be one of the mysteries 
 of godliness, I think. But I wish you would go and seo 
 her, and find out in what way we can help her bear her 
 burdens." 
 
 " I will go this afternoon, and to-night we will talk it 
 over, if alone ; and I hope we may be, for it seems a 
 long time since we have had an evening all to ourselves." 
 
 After tea, Mr. Trueman inquired, 
 
 " How did you find Hester and the babies, Linnie ? " 
 
 " I found them well and happy. Wiry, Hester has 
 adopted the two youngest ; the others are going to their 
 new homes in the spring. I think it is a real trial to 
 Hester to let them go." 
 
 " How about Harmony and her husband, and the old 
 lady that rumor brands as a monster ? " 
 
 " 0, it is all true, and the half had not been told me. 
 Do you know I love and^ venerate the memory of your 
 dear parents more than ever since hearing Hester's story ? 
 What a happy lot mine has been ! I don't suppose I 
 knew any more about work than Harmony did ; but 
 your mother didn't seem to expect me to know every- 
 thing about housekeeping. She used to praise and
 
 96 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 encourage me all the time. When I made a mistake, 
 and felt badly, she used to tell of one she made when 
 she commenced housekeeping in such a funny way that 
 I couldn't help laughing, and that made it easy, you 
 see." 
 
 " Well, did you find out anything we could do to help 
 Hester ? " 
 
 " Yes ; I brought home a lot of sewing for the chil- 
 dren. And when I urged Hester to let me do more, she 
 intimated that Christmas presents would be acceptable. 
 We are to leave them at Mr. Manlie's. They are pretty 
 children all of them. I wish I could have the baby. 
 She is not a beauty, in one sense, and yet she is strange- 
 ly fascinating. Her eyes are like her mother's, only 
 more beautiful, with a peculiar expression half sad, 
 half mirthful. She seemed to read my face very atten- 
 tively, and then reached out her arms to me with so 
 much quiet confidence that she fairly won my heart. I 
 could not help weeping when Hester told me how sad 
 little Winnie is at times. She is more thoughtful than 
 most children, and very sensitive. I told Susie to invite 
 her to spend the day with her, but Hester could not pre- 
 vail on her to come. She said Susie wouldn't want to 
 play with her, because her father drank rum. Isn't it a 
 shame, Alonzo, this whole liquor business ? Can't some- 
 thing be done to stop this nefarious traffic ? Only think 
 of Mrs. Gray ! How awful ! Q, how I pity her husband 
 and children ! There is no end to the misery it brings 
 upon mankind. I should like to sink every still-house 
 and dram-shop down into the bottomless pit. There ! 
 now I'll stop, or I fear I shall want to pitch the ruui- 
 scllers after them, and do wicked things to fathers who 
 fill the hearts of their children with sorrow and shame."
 
 PLEASANT MEMORIES. 97 
 
 " Then you didn't moan Kidder Stillman," said Mr. 
 Truemau. " I have something of that feeling towards 
 him since that terrible tragedy. It seems worse for a 
 woman to die in that way." 
 
 " Yes, it does seem worse. I am thankful it is not very 
 common, for I really think that, bad as it is for husbands 
 and fathers to become brute beasts, the children suffer 
 less than when the mother pursues the same wretched 
 course. I do wish something could be done to stop the 
 sale of the poison stuff. It makes me wicked to think 
 of it. I didn't think of Kidder when I spoke ; but I own 
 that, as I went past there to-day, I fairly loathed the 
 sight of him. I confess, I compared him to a certain cloven- 
 footed character we read of, and the store to his den." 
 
 " Why, Linnic," said Mr. Trueman, " is it possible ? 
 I thought I was alone in that feeling. But it does ex- 
 asperate me exceedingly to see such miserly selfishness. 
 There is no help for it, though, while man remains a 
 depraved being, unless the strong arm of the law can 
 be brought to bear on one side, and Christian courage 
 and fortitude on the other. But you must try to make 
 Winnie feel that we respect her in spite of her misfor- 
 tunes. It is one of the saddest features of intemperance 
 that innocent women and children suffer more than the 
 guilty subjects." 
 
 " Yes, I shall try to. I have invited her to spend the 
 
 .'ftcr Christmas with us, and I shall invite a number 
 
 of little girls in the afternoon, so that she may become 
 
 acquainted. She is going to live with her aunt Elevia in 
 
 the spring, and will attend our school." 
 
 " That is right ; do what you can for her," said Mr. 
 Trueman. " I am glad she is going there ; Mr. Giles is
 
 98 nESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 very much of a gentleman, and wealthy. She will be 
 well cared for." 
 
 " I fear not," was the reply. " Hester does not feel 
 so. She intimated that he is not what he seems to be ; 
 but pray don't speak of it ; it may not be so. And yet 
 Hester is seldom wrong, you know. But don't forget 
 the presents."
 
 ME. AND MES. STILLMAN. 99 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 MR. AND MRS. STILLMAN. A DOMESTIC SCENE. 
 
 " MARIA," said Mr. Stillman, " I want you to go to 
 the city to-morrow, and get a new velvet bonnet, and a 
 cloak of some kind. Mind, now, you get something 
 that will put Mrs. Trueman and Mrs. Steele all in the 
 shade. I am doing more business than their husbands are, 
 - that is, in some branches, and I want people to know 
 it. Don't mind expense. I want you to look better than 
 any one at church. John and Clara look first rate in 
 their winter suits. That Trueman is a mean puppy, croak- 
 ing round about temperance. This is a free country, I 
 want him to understand. But sometimes I wish it 
 wasn't ; for I would like to stop some of this noise about 
 the sin of rum-selling. That mean, contemptible Steete is 
 trying to undersell me ; but we'll see," snapping his 
 fingers. " I know a trick worth two of that. Water is 
 cheap." 
 
 " Yes, we shall see," sighed Mrs. Stillman. " Kidder, 
 I begin to see now, and feel too, that rum-selling is a 
 sin an abominable sin. I wish from the bottom of my 
 heart you had never engaged in it. I wish you would 
 give it up. It is a curse to us, and always will be." 
 
 " Well, now," said Mr. Stillman, starting up and 
 walking round the room resolutely. " Maria, what's to 
 pay ? I thought you had got rid of those whims and
 
 100 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 notions. Has the parson been talking- to you ? Say, 
 what's the matter ? " 
 
 "No/' said Maria, emphatically, "he hasn't; but I 
 begin to see for myself. I don't know how I can help 
 it. John is being ruined by the influence of rum, and 
 the company it draws to the store. You must be blind, 
 or you would see that he is." 
 
 " I can't, then ; but I hope I haven't got to hear tem- 
 perance at home, as well as abroad. I won't have it, 
 Maria. Why, that canting hypocrite Trueman called at 
 the store to-day, and tried to induce me to give up sell- 
 ing liquor. The dog ! he knows I get other custom by 
 keeping it." 
 
 " Yes, and lose some. Kidder, we are disgraced for- 
 ever by that affair of Mrs. Gray's. How came you to 
 let her have it ? Why, I am so mortified I don't want 
 to meet anybody. How could you take that little piece 
 of pork ? It was a shame. It is all over town. The 
 children sing out, ' Pork, pork ' to John. They call 
 him Jack Killraan now ; and Clara says the girls whisper 
 and draw back when she comes near them : it is 
 awful." 
 
 " They are envious, I suppose," was the curt reply, 
 " because my family dress better than they. Trading is 
 my business, Maria. I am not to inquire into the pecu- 
 liar circumstances of my customers. I should like to see 
 myself doing it. How did I know Lot earned that pork 
 doing chores for Mr. Manlie ? How did I know they 
 hadn't a barrel full ? " 
 
 "Why, Kidder Stillman, you did know they hadn't a 
 barrel of pork, nor anything like it. You might have 
 known it was all they had. And they say Mr. Gray
 
 ME. AND MRS. STILLMAN. 101 
 
 called on you that morning, and begged of you not to 
 let her have any. Was that so ? Tell me, Kidder ; did 
 he?" 
 
 " Well, what if he did ? I tell you it is ray business 
 to sell, and ask no questions. I paid for a license ; and 
 how did I know she would get in the fire ? She was a 
 nuisance, any way." 
 
 " How came she to be a nuisance, Kidder Stillman ? 
 That is the question. You can't deny that Helen Gray 
 was a nice, respectable woman when you came to the 
 village. Hasn't she bought all she drank of you ? You 
 can't deny that, either. I don't think there is another 
 store in the place where she could have bought it. I, for 
 one, am heartily ashamed of you." 
 
 " There now, that is what I get for working to dress 
 you and the children in fine clothes. But I tell you to 
 stop your lecturing, Maria ; I can't hear it." 
 
 " But you will have to hear it. I have lain awake 
 half the night ever since I saw that little burned infant 
 and its mother. 0, mercy, what a sight 1 They are 
 right before me all the time. 0, Kidder, I felt like a 
 guilty accomplice in the horrid deed ; you don't know 
 what I have suffered ever since. Why, I had rather be 
 clothed in rags the rest of my life than to wear the price 
 of so much sin, and misery, and death. I never saw the 
 business in its true light before never. I only looked 
 at the beautiful things it purchased for me and mine 
 blindly, foolishly. I have now looked at the wretched- 
 ness and rags, the poverty and shame, it brings to the 
 consumer ; and now my nice house, my beautiful dresses, 
 everything we have, is stained all over with guilt. 
 Wherever I look, I see something like the terrible hand
 
 102 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 on the wall, writing, ' This is the price of tears, of mis- 
 ery, of hunger, ay, of blood.' I can't bear it, Kidder ; 
 you must stop, or I shall be insane." 
 
 Mr. Stillman began to be alarmed at his wife's state 
 of mind. 
 
 " Well, well, Maria, don't talk about it now ; you arc 
 nervous. You ought not to have gone over to Mrs. 
 Gray's. It almost undid me. I had to be resolute, and 
 drive the subject out of mind. I thought I'd give up 
 the business right off; but what's the use, Maria ? There 
 is Steele and others ; they'd sell it if I didn't. I might 
 as well have the profits as any one ; but I shall look out 
 not to sell it to a foolish woman with a baby to burn up 
 again. Trust me for that. Steele may have that kind 
 of customers for all I care. Come, you'd better go to 
 the city, and buy those things ; it will take up your 
 mind." 
 
 " But I don't want my mind taken up ; I am satisfied 
 it is wrong to sell rum. My eyes are opened : I don't 
 want to have them closed again by gewgaws. I have 
 thought altogether too much of dress and show. My 
 love of them has almost blinded me to the evils of in- 
 temperance ; and yet I never thought it was right to sell 
 it. I have had my secret fears for John ; and now I sec 
 plainly that, unless something is done immediately, he is 
 a ruined boy. He is rude and coarse at home, and is 
 continually repeating some low vulgarism he has heard 
 at the store. And Clara is ashamed of him when they 
 are out together. Poor child ! he is becoming a town's 
 talk ; good children shun him." 
 
 " 0, come, Maria, you are nervous. John will do well 
 enough sowing wild oats you see. He is smart ; that's
 
 A DOMESTIC SCENE. 103 
 
 all ; none of your milk-and-water folks. He will come out 
 right ; don't worry. Come now, don't act so. Here, I 
 will give you some money, and you go in to-morrow and 
 buy what you need. I don't want you to go looking 
 shabbily ; it will injure rny trade." 
 
 " I don't wish for any money ; I can't think of going, 
 and I don't need anything but a clear conscience to make 
 me happy. You are a kind husband ; we have been 
 happy together, and may be again if you will give up 
 selling liquor ; we can live comfortably without the profits, 
 and I shall be a thousand times happier." 
 
 " Why, Maria, you talk foolishly. "We couldn't half 
 live if I were to give that up." 
 
 " We don't more than half live now, and never have ; 
 I mean as we ought to," said the dejected wife, still 
 weeping. " But I had rather die than live by cursing 
 and killing others. Come, Kicldcr, do please, now, give it 
 up. We shall never be prosperous and happy till you 
 do. I fear I have been as much to blame in the past as 
 you have ; but I can't sustain you in it after this, and I 
 shall never consent to spend a cent of money obtained 
 in this way again. Won't you promise me ? " She laid 
 her hand upon his shoulder, and looked tearfully into 
 his face. 
 
 " I can't promise, Maria ; I will think of it. I couldn't 
 bear to see my family poor, or meanly dressed. I am 
 sorry you feel so ; but my stopping would make no dif- 
 ference ; somebody'll sell it ; they'll get it somewhere. 
 I'll see about it." 
 
 " Never mind, Kidder ; let others sell it if they will, 
 and reap the reward ; but promise me that you won't," 
 persisted the awakened wife.
 
 104 HESTEB STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 " Perhaps I will, when I sell out what I have on hand. 
 I must go now ; you are making too serious a matter of 
 this." 
 
 And the unhappy wife was left alone with her sad re- 
 flections. Clara was out spending the afternoon. John 
 was she knew not where. She had little expectation 
 that her husband would ever think as she did. And 0, 
 she trembled, as she thought how often she had detected 
 the fatal smell in his breath recently, and an unnatural 
 hilarity in his manner. She wept and sighed in turn, 
 until John, a boy of sixteen, entered the room noisily, 
 saying, 
 
 " Come, old woman, hand over some money. The old 
 man is mighty crusty to-night ; can't get a cent from 
 him. I tell you, fork over. Jim Steele and I are going 
 over to North End, to a ringtum with two of the hand- 
 somest girls out." 
 
 Mrs. Stillmau was exceedingly shocked. She saw that 
 her son was in the first stage of drunkenness, and perfectly 
 reckless. 
 
 " I have no money, Johnnie ; come, stay at home with 
 me this eveming ; I am lonesome," she said, in as quiet 
 a voice as she could command. 
 
 " Well, I guess so ; pretty likely I shall isn't it ? 
 when Jim and the girls are waiting down by the corner. 
 Come, trump up something; your watch'll do." 
 
 He seized it, held it up for a moment defiantly, and 
 rushed from the room, saying, 
 
 " Tell the old man to hand over the real shin-plasters 
 next time." 
 
 Mrs. Stillman hurried to the store as fast as her trem- 
 bling limbs could carry her, arid entered it just in time 
 to hear Mr. Crafty say, in a sarcastic tone,
 
 A DOMESTIC SCENE. 105 
 
 " I thought you were Diore of a man, Mr. Stillman, than 
 to be nosed round by a woman. Now, I tell my wife 
 that it is nothing to her how I make my money, or spend 
 it either, so long as she is well supplied." 
 
 "What is it?" said Mr. Stillman, alarmed by the 
 appearance of his wife. She told him in as few words 
 as possible, and disappeared. 
 
 Mr. Stillman spoke hurriedly to his clerk, and excused 
 himself to the company by saying, 
 
 " I have an engagement down at the corner, and 
 ought to have been there before/ 7 and went in pursuit 
 of his son, so young in years, so old in vice. Of 
 course the counsels of Mr. Crafty and his compeers, 
 backed up by love of gain, and the cravings of a young 
 and growing appetite, prevailed ; and the casks were 
 emptied and filled, emptied and filled. Mrs. Stillman 
 became very reserved ; but people called her haughty, 
 and wondered what she had to be proud of. She ceased 
 to dress as much as formerly ; they supposed it was be- 
 cause Jack cost them so much in drunken riots. They 
 didn't pity her ; didn't she know it was no worse for 
 her husband and son to drink than for other people's 
 husbands and sons ?
 
 106 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 CHRISTMAS MORNING. REMINISCENCES OF THE EAST. 
 
 " IT has happened just right hasn't it, aunt Hester? 
 Now I am glad it snowed so fast, if I couldn't go skating. 
 Uncle Frank will come in his big sleigh. 0, won't it be 
 fun to see the horse go and make the bells jingle!" said 
 Wallace, on Christmas morning. 
 
 "0, funny, funny!" shouted little Elida. 
 
 " It will be nice," said Winnie, " if we don't tip over 
 in the big piles of snow." 
 
 " We shan't tip over," said Hester, tossing the baby. 
 " Uncle Frank is used to snow, and old Charlie is kind 
 and careful." 
 
 " Isn't she pretty, with her new frock ? How nice 
 Mrs. Trueman has fixed it, with the blue ribbon and edg- 
 ing," said Winnie, as Hester held little Fostina up to the 
 admiring gaze of the children, and turned her round and 
 round, so that they could have a full view of the bow on 
 the back, and see how cunning she was all over. 
 
 "Pretty!" said Hester; "yes, indeed, and as sweet as 
 a pink. She is a darling, every bit of her, and just as 
 good as can be." 
 
 " Don't you wish father could see her ? " said Winnie, 
 sadly. 
 
 " Yes, and grandma Lentell, too," said Wallace, tri- 
 umphantly. " Poh ! a monkey! I should think she
 
 CHRISTMAS MORNING. 10 T 
 
 looked more like a little beauty shouldn't you, auntie ? 
 I don't love grandma much ; she says ' Hum ! ' all the 
 time. She's real homely, and I think she looks like a " 
 
 " Your grandmother is not as good and lovely as I 
 wish she was, but you had better not speak disrespect- 
 fully of her. It will do no good, and will be sure to 
 injure you," said Hester, quietly. 
 
 " How will it, auntie ? " 
 
 " Well, I don't know as I can make you understand 
 what I mean ; but here is a pail of nice, clean, fresh 
 water. Now, if I were to pour in a few drops of vinegar 
 every now and then, it would soon grow sour ; or a little 
 wormwood, it would be bitter would it not ? " 
 
 " Why, yes, of course it would/ 7 said Wallace. 
 
 "But suppose I should drop in a lump of sugar now 
 and then ? " 
 
 " Why, it would be sweetened 'water then," said the 
 children, in concert. 
 
 " It would be dood," said Elida. " We'd drink it all 
 tip, and gis you and totty sister some." 
 
 " Well," said Hester, smiling, " when God makes us 
 little innocent babies, at first we are good, and fresh, and 
 pure, and sweet, like little birdie, here ; and when we are 
 old enough to think, and talk, and act, if we are careful 
 to think good, and pure, and loving thoughts, we shall 
 remain more pure and lovely than we shall if we indulge 
 in bitter, unkind, envious feelings. Or, in other words, 
 kind, loving, tender thoughts, words, and deeds make us 
 better, and those around us ; but cross, unkind, selfish 
 thoughts; words, and deeds injure us, and those with 
 whom we associate. Do you understand me, children ? " 
 
 " Why, you mean, if I tell about grandma's badness,
 
 108 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 and say she looks like a monkey," said Wallace, rapidly, 
 " it will make me, and us, bitter, or sour, or bad. And 
 if I talk about somebody's goodness, it will make me, and 
 us, better." 
 
 " That is it," said Hester, encouragingly. " But we 
 must hang up our stockings. Uncle Frank will be here 
 soon. There he comes, now." 
 
 " 0, dear ! " said Martha Manlie, to her parents ; "I 
 should think Hester would be distracted, with all those 
 children to fix off. I declare I thought I should be 
 crazy the little time I staid there ; but Hester seemed to 
 enjoy it. They are as good as kittens, all of them ; but 
 there would be too many for me, and Hester "is ten years 
 older." 
 
 " La, sakes, child," said grandma, "you ain't used to 
 children, and Hester is. You'd get used to it after a 
 while. I never enjoyed myself better in my life than I 
 did when I had my seven around me ; and my mother 
 used to say the same of her ten. There they go. Hester 
 is a dear good girl. She seems as young as ever she did. 
 God bless 'em." 
 
 " I wish 'em all a merry Christmas, from the bottom 
 of my heart," said grandpa, looking up from his paper. 
 " God bless 'em." 
 
 " Wallace looks like your brother Horace, child don't 
 you think so ? " said grandma. 
 
 " Yes, mother, and Winnie like our Mary, only not as 
 cheerful. She is rightly named Winnie. I wish she 
 was going to stay here, instead of Elida ; her quiet, 
 thoughtful ways suit me exactly. Elida is a dear little 
 thing too, and baby is a remarkable child. I don't know 
 what to think of her. She is the wisest little thing I
 
 REMINISCENCES OF THE PAST. 109 
 
 ever saw. She is getting acquainted with me, and I am 
 glad. I mean to tend her half a day Sunday, and let 
 Hester go to church, she enjoys it so much." 
 
 " That is right, Martha ; your poor brother set his life 
 by Hester ; and wasn't she worthy of it too ? 0, how 
 that wicked Mehitable Sharp made them suffer ! I can't 
 bear to think of it. I always blamed Horace, though, 
 for going off without knowing the truth of the matter. 
 But la, it is all over ; I didn't never mean to think of it 
 again. But I am glad them children didn't take after her. 
 I couldn't love them if they did. Their grandpa Lentell 
 was as nice a man as ever lived. He waited upon me to 
 a horseback ride once. He was a handsome fellow : folks 
 teased me about him considerable. But I liked your 
 father the best," looking over to the corner where he sat, 
 fondly. " I was fortunate, Martha. I hope you will do 
 as well some day." 
 
 Martha smiled as she said, " Why, mother, don't you 
 see I am away beyond the matrimonial corner ? " 
 
 " You ain't, child ; you are young enough, and good 
 enough, to be married any day, and might have been 
 long ago, if your father and I could have spared you.' 7 
 
 " God will bless you, Martha," said grandpa, smiling. 
 
 0, how those few childish words of the mother wakened 
 thoughts in the heart of the devoted daughter, of the long- 
 ago love, which burned brightly on the heart's altar for a 
 few brief months, making the bright and beautiful things 
 of earth more bright and beautiful, causing all nature to 
 smile with gladness, and life seem like a pure, sweet 
 reality, which it would be blessed to live. 
 
 Yrs, she thought of that time for a moment, and 
 smiled a little patient smile. And then came thoughts
 
 110 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 of another time, so full of blighted hopes and withered 
 expectations, so full of chilly dreariness and desolation, 
 that she instinctively bowed her head over the Blessed 
 Book, which lay on her knee, and pressed her hand to 
 her throbbing temples, as if she could thus stop the tide 
 of mournful memories, and drink in peace from the sacred 
 pages before her. 
 
 But her soul's eyes were fast riveted on memory's 
 blotted page. Thus she sat, while before her passed, 
 in panoramic view, the manly form of her affianced 
 husband. 
 
 Now he was sitting by her side, holding her hand, 
 telling her honestly, frankly, tenderly, all his love. How 
 pure it seemed ! How she loved him in return ! She felt 
 ennobled and elevated by his love, by her love. It was a 
 blessed moment, but it passed. Another scene. How 
 could she look at it ? She shrank nearer to the Holy Word 
 of promise, the hands clasped painfully over the throbbing 
 temples, the head bowed lower and lower, as if to let the 
 dreadful wave pass over. 
 
 O, it came, it came, and was past. She was well nigh 
 stunned by the mighty shock. The beautiful things of 
 life were veiled in sadness, earth draped in mourning, 
 and the light of heaven very dim, in the presence of this 
 sudden darkness, which extinguished forever a pure, 
 true, and beautiful love. 
 
 No, not forever ! It will live and burn on, brighter, 
 purer, and holier, in the kingdom of heaven. 
 
 " Martha," said the aged mother, " why don't you 
 read, child ? I knit into the middle of my needle long 
 ago, and have been wattin'. Head 'The Lord is iny 
 Shepherd ; I shall not want.' '
 
 REMINISCENCES OF THE PAST. Ill 
 
 " Yes, mother, I will read in a -moment. I want to 
 run up stairs first." 
 
 came back, and read calmly, very calmly, page 
 after page of the Holy Word, to the aged listeners, and 
 her soul grew strong. She took up again, hopefully, 
 the broken threads of life, and went on her way cheer- 
 fully.
 
 112 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE CHRISTMAS PARTY. Miss PATTY STEAENS. 
 
 " 0, HERE you arc," said Emma Levering. " Why 
 aunt Hester, you. look as motherly ! Give me baby, 
 while you take off your things." 
 
 " She is asleep, the darling," said Hester. " Let me 
 lay her away in a quiet place, and she won't wake till 
 dinner time." 
 
 " Why, how good she is ! Weren't you cold ? How 
 did you like your ride, children ? " said aunt Emma. 
 
 " It was nice," said Elida. 
 
 " Splendid," said the others. 
 
 " We's didn't be spilled a mite in the snow," said 
 Sunshine, smiling all over her face. 
 
 " Has you got a puddin' wis plums in it, auntie ? " 
 
 "Yes, pinky, I have; and mince pies too, and little 
 cakes for boys and girls that are good, and lots of sweet 
 things." 
 
 " I's dood, auntie, and I likes them tilings : may I has 
 some ? " 
 
 " I guess so," lifting her up and kissing the dim- 
 pled cheek. " Now I want you to have a good time, 
 and be very happy. Georgy and Fanny have been talk- 
 ing of this visit for a month or more. Now let us see 
 which of all the children will behave best. Let us try 
 to please each other."
 
 THE CHEISTMAS PARTY. 113 
 
 Hester took the children into the large, old-fashioned 
 parlor, where the great logs crackled and sparkled, and 
 sent out a perfect flood of warmth and comfort to the 
 chilly ones around. 
 
 Grandpa Lovering was there, trying to look cheerful ; 
 but thinking, thinking all the time of Mary, the love of 
 his youth, the light of his home, the mother of his chil- 
 dren, the companion and friend he had lost. 
 
 " I will not sadden them still more by my sadness," 
 he thought. 
 
 The brothers and sisters were struggling bravely to 
 bear their own burdens, and help the others in their pain- 
 ful task. The last time they had met was at mother's 
 funeral ; and Harmony, their gentle sister, too, had gone ; 
 her place was vacant. They missed them so ! 0, they 
 felt more lonely than ever, now that they were all together. 
 
 They saw the pain in each other's faces, they heard it 
 in each other's voices, and felt it in the earnest, silent 
 clasping of the hands. After the first greetings were 
 over, the children took possessioii of the porch, which 
 had been made warm, and trimmed with evergreens for 
 the occasion. 
 
 " There was a baker's dozen," uncle Frank said. 
 
 But things moved slowly a* first, for the children, some 
 of them, had been deeply wounded by the two deaths in 
 the family circle. All felt the influence of the sad hearts 
 around them, until uncle Frank led aunt Hester among 
 them, blindfolded. First came a smile, then a shout. 
 
 " Now, children," said Hester, as she went cautiously 
 
 along, reaching out her arms, "I'll catch you, if you'll 
 
 lot me. But mind now, we must be 0, who is this ? " 
 
 .- all over llir head. ruMn'ng the cars and pinching 
 
 8
 
 114 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 them, but no Bound. " Well, I guess it is Master George 
 Lovcring." (A great laugh.) " Am I right? " 
 
 " Yes, yes ; 'tis he," shouted the children. 
 
 " And here is my Sunshine," said Hester, catching 
 Elida, who had been saying, 
 
 " Here I be, here I be, auntie." 
 
 " Well," said Hester, taking off the bandage and tying 
 it over Gcorgy's eyes, " I was going to say you must try 
 to play as quietly as you can, for baby is asleep, and, 
 grandma Stearns isn't far off." 
 
 " I wish she was farther off, though," said George ; 
 " she'll think we ought to be set down in a row, learning 
 the Catechism." And several others said, 
 
 "So do I, so do I. She isn't a bit like you, auntie 
 Hester. 0, won't you stay and play with us ? " 
 
 7 ' Do," echoed from all parts of the room. 
 
 " No, dears, I can't ; I want to see grandpa. He is 
 lonely. See how good you can be, and take care of the 
 little ones," she said, disappearing. 
 
 " Why, I would give more for one of our aunt Hester's 
 little fingers than I would for Patty Stearns, and all the 
 money and things the cross old thing has got in tho 
 world," said Fanny. 
 
 " If I hear her old crutches a coming, I'll hold the 
 door. She thinks it is wicked to laugh," said George, 
 as he began to dive this way, duck that way, stoop over, 
 and walk with his arms stretched out this way and that. 
 Such a diving, ducking, dodging, scampering time as 
 there was for a few moments ! the little ones pleading to 
 be caught. 
 
 " There, now," said George, with a flourish, " I've got 
 somebody. 'Ti.s Fanny, I know by her wig." And so
 
 MISS PATTY STEARNS. 115 
 
 it wont on, game after game, until joy sparkled in every 
 eye, when suddenly the door flew open, and there stood 
 Miss Stearns, leaning on her crutches, and looking mourn- 
 fully, ay, sternly, over her brass-bowed specs. 
 
 " I shouldn't thought you'd felt like making all this 
 noise," she said, dolefully, " when your poor grandmother 
 and aunt Harmony are both dead. Death is a solemn 
 thing, and you've got to die, all of you, some time. 
 You'd better be larnin' the Catechism, or some of Watts' 
 hymns." 
 
 The children were as silent as if death in all its grim- 
 ness stood before them, all but Fanny, the eldest. 
 
 " Why ? " said she ; " have we waked the baby ? Aunt 
 Hester told us to play ; she played with us at first." 
 
 " Mercy, mercy ! Did I iver hear the like of that ? 
 Well, go on ; destruction's before you." 
 
 "Didn't you love to play when you were young?" 
 inquired Fanny. 
 
 "Not after rny grandmother and aunt died not I," 
 was the slow, solemn reply, with a mournful shake of 
 the head. 
 
 " How old were you then ? " persisted Fanny. 
 
 " Well, it's no matter now ; I was thirty or up'ards. 
 I've seen the emptiness of earthly things, and I hope 
 you will before long." She turned slowly away, with 
 a sigh, saying, " Mercy, mercy ! how depraved human 
 natur' is ! " The door was closed as soon as it was 
 safe. 
 
 " There, now," said George, sticking his jackknife over 
 the latch, " I hope somebody else will die soon." 
 
 "0, I wouldn't," said Winnie, fearfully. 
 
 " Yes, you would," said George, " if you were n* * : -d
 
 116 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 of her droning, croaking- voice as we are. Why, Sis and 
 Bub get just as far from her as they can." 
 
 "Yes," said Fanny, "she thinks it is foolish and 
 wicked for mother, or any of us, to say ' darling/ or 
 ' birdie,' or ' Lizzie/ or ' Willie/ She always says ' Wil- 
 liam/ and 'Elizabeth/ to those little things." 
 
 Fanny's perfect imitation of Miss Stearns' voice and 
 manner caused a hearty laugh. 
 
 " Hush ! hush ! " said several voices ; " she will come 
 again." 
 
 " No she won't," said Fanny ; " the door is fast." 
 
 " What makes your folks keep her ? " inquired several 
 of the cousins. 
 
 " Because she can't stay anywhere else, I suppose," 
 was the reply. " Mother pities her. Why, we can't 
 have company, young or old, without her hobbling h- 
 with her crutches, looking like a fright ; and she has real 
 nice clothes laid away. And then, nobody must speak, 
 unless spoken to by herself, because she happens to be 
 eighty. This is the way she begins," said Fanny, settling 
 her face, and changing her tone : 
 
 " ' George, bring the cricket. My limb it pains me 
 desput. It's thirteen years and up'ards since I fell and 
 broke it. Fanny, it 'pears to me there's a stitch down. 
 I ain't a bit well/ addressing the company. ' My eyes 
 pain me, and I rested poorly last night, too. The doctor 
 left me some trade for urn, but they ain't a mite better/ 
 A little pause. ' I was sayin' it's up'ards of thirteen 
 years since I fell and broke my limb, and I hain't stepped 
 a step since/ 
 
 " By and by the company gets to talking, and grows 
 lively. She frowns, moves her crutches, and plunges
 
 MISS PATTY STEARXS. 117 
 
 into us again. ' Let's see/ very dolefully addressing 
 some one who has buried a friend some time, ; ' I believe 
 it's ten years the 10th day of March since your sister 
 died. I remember it as plain as day/ shaking her head 
 mournfully." 
 
 " That is a way she has of extinguishing mirthfulness, 
 father says," said George. " He says she can tell the 
 year, the month, the day, and the hour of every death in 
 town for the last forty years." 
 
 " She likes funerals," said Fanny, " and it's the only 
 thing she does like, except good living. Last Thanks- 
 giving morning she complained of being sick, and mother 
 made her a quart of milk porridge. She crumbed it full 
 of bread, and then, when dinner was ready, she wanted 
 a lot of turkey, saying, ' I niver tasted a mouthful 
 of breakfast.' ' Didn't you eat a bowlful of bread and 
 porridge ? ' said mother. She looked up with an in- 
 jured, indignant look, and said, ' I niver heard porridge 
 called victuals niver.' I can tell you, the turkey and 
 fixins, pudding and pies, melte'd away like snow forts 
 before the sun, if her appetite was poor." 
 
 " She isn't willing we should laugh or play," said 
 Fanny, " or read anything but the Bible, Pilgrim's 
 Progress, Watts' Hymns, or the Catechism." 
 
 " You have forgotten the ' ivery-day book ' and the 
 letters she makes everybody read," said George. " She 
 looks indignant enough if we read a word to ourselves." 
 
 " We shall turn sour, or bitter, or bad," said Wallace, 
 uneasily, "if we keep on. Hasn't somebody got some 
 sugar to put in ? " 
 
 The children laughed, looked at each other, and in- 
 quired,
 
 118 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 " What do you mean ? " 
 . Winnie told aunt Hester's morning illustration. 
 
 " There isn't much danger of our being sweetened 
 is there, Fan," said George, " while that vinegar jug is 
 round ? She ought to have been a frog, she loves croak- 
 ing so well." 
 
 "Come, come," said Fanny, "let's play 'puss, puss 
 in the corner,' or ' forfeits.' Aunt Hester is right. The 
 more I talk about her, the worse I hate her ; so I shall 
 stop." 
 
 After the children left the parlor, grandpa said, mak- 
 ing a great effort to speak cheerfully, 
 
 " We miss them don't we, children ? we miss them. 
 But we shouldn't be willing to call them back should 
 we?" 
 
 A long pause. Elevia arose, sat down on a cricket at 
 her father's feet, and laid her head wearily on his knee. 
 Silently he placed his arm over her neck for a moment, 
 drew his hand over the bowed head, caressingly, and 
 said, " My child, would you call them back ? " 
 
 "No, father," was the earnest reply. "I would 
 rather go to them." 
 
 Hester, as usual, came to the rescue. She talked of 
 the absent ones so hopefully that the mourners could 
 almost rejoice that they were not here, bearing the bur- 
 dens and sorrows of life. 
 
 " God help us to be ready when we are called to go," 
 she said. 
 
 Here Miss Stearns entered. 
 
 Every one knew what to expect. It was the old 
 story. Self was the beginning, the middle, and the end ; 
 so the company resigned themselves to the infliction as 
 best they could.
 
 MISS PATTY STEARNS. 119 
 
 " Miss Strong," she began, " I shouldn't thought 
 you'd felt like playing with um. I'm astonished that 
 you sanction the follies of youth so. I'm surprised and 
 shocked, I say, to find them children a-playing so soon ; 
 and you begun it. Christ's kingdom niver will be estab- 
 lished while his professed followers are " 
 
 " Cross and ugly/' said uncle Frank, laughing. 
 
 " Mercy, mercy ! You are too light," with a sigh. 
 " He was a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief. 
 We ought to follow his example in those things." 
 
 " Yes," said Hester, reverently, " we ought to follow 
 his example in all things. He was kind, and tender, and 
 loving. He was meek and lowly, full of pity, gentle and 
 forgiving. He was perfect in holiness. 0, we ought to 
 imitate him in all things, especially in his self-denying 
 love ; for love is the bond of perfection." 
 
 " It was in July, I believe, Mr. Lovering, that your 
 daughter died ; the 28th day of the month ; and your 
 wife, November 7. Well, there is enough to keep us 
 from frivolity. I've seen the emptiness of earthly 
 things." 
 
 Here dinner was announced. After some waiting, the 
 crutches were adjusted on a chair brought for that pur- 
 pose. Grace was said, and the business of the hour 
 went on as briskly and quietly as could be expected, con- 
 sidering that twenty-eight hungry people were seated 
 around the table. The children were radiant with delight 
 and expectation. 
 
 " I likes puddin' wis plums in it," said little Elida. 
 
 The company smiled, all but Miss Stearns ; she was 
 shocked. 
 
 " Children should be seen, and not heard, was the rule
 
 120 HESTEK STKOKG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 in my day," she sighed ; " but now they are heard first. 
 That child needs a mother," looking at Hoster. 
 
 " 0, come', Miss Stearns," said uncle Frank ; "this is 
 a Christmas dinner, or supper, whichever you please) 
 and not a funeral, nor a lecture. Let us be thankful for 
 our blessings, and show it by being cheerful. There is 
 a time for everything, you know. Let me give you a 
 generous piece of turkey, or chicken, or whatever you 
 like." 
 
 " I likes baked roosters, I does," said little Willie, 
 with a flourish. 
 
 " Wis a wis bone on it ? " said Elida. 
 
 " Yes," said Willie, " and some 'tato and graby on it." 
 
 All smiled but the chagrined and solemn Miss Stearns. 
 It was funny to see the little piles of plums on the chil- 
 dren's plates pleasant to see them count their treas- 
 ures, and divide, so as to share equally. 
 
 " Well, we've had a nice time haven't we ?" said 
 Fanny. " I was afraid Miss Stearns would spoil all ; 
 but she hasn't." 
 
 All expressed satisfaction, and the company dispersed. 
 
 " I think you do wrong to keep Patty Stearns here," 
 said Hester, aside. " It will have a bad influence on 
 the children ; prejudice their minds against religion, &c." 
 
 " I fear it will," said Emma. " Frank threatens to 
 send her off. She is terribly stingy, too, and frets about 
 the price of board. Why, she wouldn't eat a meal away 
 on any account. If invited, she declines, saying, ' I pay 
 my board at Mr. Lovering's.' Yet she will invite com- 
 pany to eat here. Did you see that bag on her arm ? 
 She always brings it to the table, and if there is cake, or 
 anything better than common, she drops some in slyly.
 
 MISS PATTY STEAENS. 121 
 
 Queer isn't it ? And the other day her brother, an old 
 man, came to see her. She wanted to comb his hair, 
 and actually came to me for a comb. ' Why/ said I, 
 ' where is yours ? ' 'I don't want to use mine,' was her 
 reply. ' Well, I don't want you to use mine, neither,' 
 said I. She seemed quite offended. I think we shall 
 have to let her go ; but I am sure I don't know where 
 she will find a place. Nobody wants her." 
 
 When Hester went to Miss Stearns' room to say good 
 night, she could scarcely help smiling at the sight that 
 met her. She found her sitting in one corner, a comical- 
 looking hood on, her head bowed so that the bow on the 
 pointed top stood erect, " meditatin'," as she called it, 
 and saying over her Catechism, hymns, &c., out aloud. 
 
 Hester heard 
 
 " Hark ! from the tombs a doleful sound," 
 
 and closed the door sadly, saying to herself, " There are 
 other doleful things besides tombs. I wish she could 
 learn to praise, as well as mourn. She has more cause 
 for gratitude than many others I know of."
 
 122 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 WHAT SANTA GLAUS LEFT. JUDITH LOVERING'S ADVICE. 
 
 MARTHA MAXLIE had kindled a good warm fire, and was 
 waiting to help Hester unpack her precious freight. 
 
 " This is thoughtful in you," said Hester ; " I meant to 
 have asked you to do just this thing. You take Sun- 
 shine. Wallace and Winnie can scrabble out themselves. 
 Pet is fast asleep. She is a darling, auntie Martha. 
 There, it is nice to have this warm room to come into. 
 The folks all sent love to you and the dear old folks. 
 How have you enjoyed the day ? " 
 
 " 0, very well. I have thought of you a good deal. 
 I expected you and the little ones would come home tired 
 out. Aren't you half crazy with the confusion ? " said 
 Martha, as she went on quietly unwrapping the children, 
 who were trying to wait patiently for an opportunity to 
 explore the stockings. 
 
 " I's had the bestesl time," said Sunshine. " 0, I's 
 never seen such nice plums on a puddin' in all your life, 
 aunt Martha. I brought one to you, and my grandpa, 
 and his mother. Be she waked up ? " 
 
 " May we look and sec if he has been here ? " asked 
 Winnie and Wallace, in a breath. 
 
 " 0, yes," said Hester, " I forgot you were expecting 
 the old man witli the bag. Have you seen him, Martha ? " 
 
 " Yes, I think he has called," said Martha, opening
 
 SANTA CLAUS LEFT. 123 
 
 the bed-room door, and exposing five stockings pinned to 
 the bed-quilt. 
 
 " Mercy sakes ! " said Winnie ; " why, they are all full, 
 and running over. I'm afraid he won't have enough to 
 go round." 
 
 " Yes, he will," said Wallace ; " he makes such things, 
 and has a store full of um." 
 
 "0, good, good I Here is a sled for me; and here is a 
 little pony ; that is for me ; and here " 
 
 " You mustn't claim everything," said Hester. "We 
 will see whom the things are for soon. We shall find 
 the names attached to them. Let's see : the sled is for 
 Wallace, the book for Winnie, the pony for Elida. And 
 now you may see what the stockings contain." 
 
 The merry voices were hushed for a moment, while 
 childish hands pulled out one thing after another, until 
 the last was extracted, and then, 
 
 " See ! see ! " shouted the children. 
 
 " I've got a jackknife, and lots of peppermints," said 
 Wallace. " Hurrah ! I'll cut up your kindlings now, 
 auntie." 
 
 " Mine is a baby, a mite of a dolly, that he brought 
 me," said Sunshine, " and some sugar things. I'll gis 
 you some, aunties." 
 
 " That is a darling," said the two aunties. " But what 
 has Winnie got ? Isn't she pleased with the old gentle- 
 man's gifts ? " 
 
 " 0, yes, indeed ; but I am confounded, auntie. I 
 didn't expect half so much. Here is a beauty thimble 
 and scissors, and comb, and such a lot of candy, besides 
 the darling book. 0, I didn't expect so much." And 
 little sensitive Winnie fairly cried with the surprise and joy.
 
 124 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 " You will have one of those books every month, 
 darling," said Hester. 
 
 " Who do you suppose it is ? " said Martha, stroking 
 the child's head. 
 
 " Why, it is God, I think. He told somebody to do 
 it, because we are orphans. Aunt Judith told me I was 
 worse than an orphan. Are orphans bad, auntie ? " 
 sobbed the child. 
 
 " Bad? No," said Hester, cheerfully. "They are the 
 sweetest, darlingest little things in the world. I think 
 they are nearer and dearer to the dear God Father than 
 children who have earthly parents. Don't you, Martha?" 
 
 " Yes, indeed," said Martha ; " and all God's people 
 love little motherless children better than any others, if 
 they are good." 
 
 " Do you suppose that God thought anything about 
 telling him to give us these ? " asked Wallace, thought- 
 fully. " Why, he is away up in heaven." 
 
 " Yes, dear," said Hester. " God reigneth in heaven 
 and on earth, too. He is everywhere, beholding the evil 
 and the good. He will punish our evil, wicked deeds, 
 and reward the good. I want you to remember the 
 verse, 'Thou, God, seest me,' for he is always looking 
 on. When you desire to do wrong, think of God, and be 
 afraid to sin ; when you desire to do right, be sure God 
 put the thought in your heart; and He will help you, and 
 bless and love you if you obey." 
 
 " But who tells us to do wicked things, auntie ? " 
 
 " Satan, who is a very wicked, cruel spirit ; he hates 
 God, and " 
 
 " Poh, auntie ! I shan't mind him. He is a hateful old 
 fellow. I heard a dressed-up man say on the street, 
 
 I
 
 WHAT SANTA GLAUS LEFT. 125 
 
 the other day, that Jack Stillman and his father acted 
 like the devil. He is Satan isn't he ? Poh ! he is 
 mean." 
 
 " But, my dear child, Satan is a very powerful spirit. 
 There is only one Being stronger than he." 
 
 " Who is that, auntie ? God ? " 
 
 " Yes, dear. God can help you resist this malicious 
 being, and when you pray, ' Lead us not into temptation, 
 deliver us from evil/ that is what you mean. You must 
 not forget to ask God to take care of you, my dear 
 children, every day ; neither must you forget to thank 
 him for all his blessings." 
 
 " These are blessings, I suppose," said Wallace, point- 
 ing at his sled. 
 
 " Yes, dear." 
 
 " Well, I thank him for all mine, and I mean to be 
 good, and love him." 
 
 " Who, do you suppose, did it, auntie ? " said Winnie, 
 smiling. " I guess they wanted to put some sugar in 
 our lives didn't they ? I wish I knew who, so that I 
 could love them." 
 
 Hester and Martha looked at each other, and smiled. 
 
 "Why, St. Nicholas, of course," said Wallace ; "he is 
 always doing such things at Christmas time. He is a 
 funny old man, and slept between two feather beds, one 
 night, when he didn't want to go out. Don't you remem- 
 ber, mamma used to tell us ? " 
 
 " Yes, he be funny," said Sunshine, who had finished 
 the last peppermint, and commenced a stick of molasses 
 candy. "Yes, he is a kind old San Dicolas isn't he, 
 auntie ? He gis my 'ittle beauty sister a cunning rattle. 
 Mayn't I gis it to her, when she wakes up '( " 
 
 .
 
 126 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WOEK. 
 
 " Yes, dear ; but auntie cannot let you eat any more 
 caiidy to-night. It will make darling sick, and auntie 
 will have to give her bitter medicine." 
 
 "I likes bitter things, auntie," said the child, demurely; 
 " let me eat it all up." 
 
 " No, dear," said Hester, decidedly; "give it to me, 
 now ; in the morning you shall have it." 
 
 " No, no," persisted the child. " Santa Dicolas told 
 somebody I might eat it all up. He wants to sweeten 
 me all sweet, he do. Now I'll tell him," she said, pout- 
 ing out the red lips, and crying. 
 
 " He won't bring naughty folks any, next time." 
 
 "0, sissy, sissy," said Winnie, hurriedly, "he won't 
 bring you any more if you talk so. Aunt Judith says 
 we must be good all the time, and never say things, 
 because we are orphans. She says we must be still, and 
 never get in the way, nor anything, or folks won't have 
 us round. 0, dear ! won't you stop crying ? " 
 
 Hester and Martha gave each other a sharp, quick, in- 
 dignant look. 
 
 " When did she tell you all that ? " said Hester. 
 
 " Out in the porch, auntie, when I was playing ; it 
 made me cry. She told me not to laugh -so loud, for I 
 was worse than an orphan, and it didn't look well. But 
 Fanny told me orphans were good as anybody. She 
 said I might laugh as loud as I pleased, for I wasn't half 
 as much in the way as aunt Judith." 
 
 " Well," said Hester to Martha, " I shall have to talk 
 to that woman. I didn't mean to, but I must. Mary 
 always stood between us when she was alive." 
 
 Martha nodded assent, and said, " Father and mother 
 wanted to have the children come in a little while."
 
 JUDITII LOVEKING'S ADVICE. 12t 
 
 Elida was as sunny as ever by this time. 
 
 " 0, funny ! " she shouted ; " now I'll gis the plums." 
 
 " There/' said Hester, when the children had left 
 the room, "I am glad they are gone, for I am burst- 
 ing almost with indignation, and I feel like crying, 
 too. What a strange woman that Judith Lovering is ! 
 Only think of it. Trying to dampen and darken the little 
 bit of enjoyment the poor child was having. There are 
 dark shadows enough around her now, without her 
 throwing any. Why, Mr. Lovering will find it hard to 
 get a housekeeper, on her account. I don't think he 
 knows her yet. Mary, our angel Mary, took all her 
 poison shafts into her own tender bosom. 0, she hid 
 them away there, and they killed her ; I don't hesitate to 
 say it. She didn't let her husband know what she had 
 to endure. She tried to hide her meanness from him, 
 from every one. Yes^ she bore it silently and alone, and 
 it killed her. I have seen things there that would make 
 a saint ' angry, and sin not ; ' and sometimes I wanted to 
 tell her what I thought of her ; but Mary would beg so, 
 that I desisted. But Winnie is a sensitive child, and I 
 shall talk with Judith, for " 
 
 "Ah," said Martha, " she was rightly named Judith 
 Small. I wish she had never changed it, for Mary did 
 fail so fast after she went there, that I feel as you do."
 
 128 HJESTER STRONG'S LIFE 'WORK. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 WINNIE'S VISIT, AND TOE PARTY. 
 
 HESTER exhausted her ingenuity in preparing- Winnie 
 for her visit at Mr. Trueman's. She dressed her in her 
 very best, and took her into grandpa's, that they might 
 help her fortify the shrinking child for the events of the 
 day. 
 
 " Now, praise her all you can truthfully," said Hester 
 aside ; " it won't hurt a child like her." 
 
 " You look like a posy," said grandpa, "just picked 
 out of the garden, with the dew all on." 
 
 " She is as comely as her mother," said grandma ; 
 " and that is saying a good deal. How curious you arc, 
 Hester ! She looks well enough to go to the parson's, 
 or anywhere else, as to that matter. She makes me 
 think of the old adage, ' Pretty is that pretty docs.' 
 She looks like a modest little violet with that blue dress 
 on." And grandma stroked the child's smooth hair 
 with her wrinkled hand, and smiled, until Winnie thought 
 she, too, was beautiful, and wondered why grandma Lin- 
 tell was so different. 
 
 Martha said her dress was neat and becoming; and 
 hoped she would enjoy the day. They all sent kind 
 regards to Mr. and Mrs. Trucman. 
 
 " Shall I say, ' Grandpa and grandma sent their love 
 to you, and my aunt Hester and aunt Martha, too?' Is 
 Iha) right?" said \Yinni<>, hesitatingly.
 
 WINNIE'S VISIT, AND THE PARTY. 129 
 
 " Yes, that will do nicely/' said Hester. 
 
 " Very nicely," said the rest. 
 
 She kissed baby and Elida, said good morning cheer- 
 fully, and went forth to find that every cup of happiness 
 contained a little drop of something "bitter, or sour, or 
 bad," as Wallace said, dropped into it sometimes wick- 
 edly, sometimes thoughtlessly, sometimes accidentally. 
 She spent the morning pleasantly, playing with Susie 
 and her dollies, dressing and undressing them, rocking 
 them to sleep, &c., until Susie said, 
 
 " Did you have some at your house, Winnie ? " 
 
 " Once," was the reply ; ." but they wasn't like these. 
 My mamma made them," with a little sigh. 
 
 " 0, I forgot ; mother told me not to ask you," she 
 said, apologetically. " Of course they were pretty if 
 your dear mother made them. She isn't dead, is she, 
 Winnie ? She is up in heaven with God and my darling 
 brothers, that went before I was born. But I shall know 
 them. Grandpa and grandma went since I was a big 
 girl. They will know them, and find them for me. 0, 
 you are crying ! what makes you ? You will see her 
 again. Mother says she was good. Don't cry ; I am 
 sorry I speaked about it, if it makes you feel bad. I 
 didn't mean to ; mother said I mustn't unless you did. 
 Come, don't cry, and I will give you old Hagar ; you 
 liked her best. Mother will be willing. She wants 
 you to love us, because " Susie stammered ; she was 
 afraid to say " because you arc a poor motherless child, 
 with a drunken father ; " so she put her arms around her 
 neck, almost crying herself, and said, 
 
 " I am real sorry I said it." 
 
 " 0, it wasn't Y..U that made me cry," said Winnie, 
 9
 
 130 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE "WORK. 
 
 returning the caress. " I like you, and your papa and 
 mamma. I remember the Christmas presents ; they were 
 so beautiful ! But when I think of my dead mamma, I 
 always cry. I don't mean to, but I do. 0, I wanted her 
 to stay with me, but she couldn't ; and most all the time 
 I want to go to her ; but aunt Hester says God wants 
 me dbwn here for something. There, I won't cry any 
 more ; it makes you feel bad ; but I want something. I 
 want to love Jesus." And Winnie wiped and wiped 
 the little red eyes. But they wouldn't stay dry. 
 
 "No, I ain't crying about that," said Susie; "but I 
 was thinking what if God should take my mamma, and 
 leave me. I should* cry all the time then, I believe." 
 
 " No, you wouldn't all the time," said Winnie ; " God 
 would help you forget it. Uaven't you got some books 
 with pictures in them ? " 
 
 " Yes, a whole lot ; ceme into the library, and I'll 
 show you." 
 
 Before dinner the little girls were very happy, and the 
 best of friends. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Trueman succeeded in diverting Win- 
 nie's mind from painful thoughts during the dinner hour. 
 The children Vied with each other in showing her kind 
 attentions. 
 
 " Be you got a brother ? " said Walter. 
 
 " Yes, and two sisters ; one little baby sister, and 
 another about as big as you. I think you would love 
 them," said Winnie, glancing up at Mr. and Mrs. True- 
 man. 
 
 " 0, yes, I know we shall. When it is warm weather, 
 we are going to bring Miss Hester and her pets over 
 here to spend several weeks. Do you like cherries ?"
 
 WINNIE'S VISIT, AND THE PARTY. 131 
 
 "Yes'm," was the reply; "but I shan't be there 
 then," drawing a long breath. "I'm going to aunt 
 Elevia's." 
 
 " 0, well, that isn't far off," said Mr. Trueman, cheer- 
 fully. " Your uncle trades at my store, and I will ask 
 him to bring you over when they are here." 
 
 " Yes," said Mrs. Trueman, " you will go to school 
 with Susie ; and, as I think you are a good, truthful 
 girl, I shall ask your aunt to let you come often and 
 spend the night with us. Would you like to ? " 
 
 " 0, yes'm ; " and Winnie gave- a quick glance at Susie, 
 who met her look with a bright, broad smile. She smiled 
 cordially in return. The shadows faded from her heart, 
 the sadness from her face. Mr. and Mrs. Trueman 
 looked at each other significantly, well pleased with the 
 result of their efforts to cheer this, Christ's little one ; 
 when little Walter, wishing to occupy a silent moment, 
 said to Winnie, 
 
 " Do your father be in the naughty jail-house now ? " 
 
 The parents tried to check the unfortunate question, 
 but too late. Winnie blushed, gave a quick glance 
 around the table, looked down, and burst into tears. 
 
 With the thoughtfulness of mature age, Susie arose 
 and said, 
 
 " Come and see my birdies. I'll give you something 
 to feed them with." 
 
 As the children left the room, Mr. Trueman said, 
 
 " Walter, don't speak to the little girl about her 
 father or mother again will you ? It makes her feel 
 badly. Linnie, we shall have to be more guarded in 
 speaking before the children. I would rather have given 
 a great deal than to have had this happen."
 
 132 HESTER STROXG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 " I's sorry "Walter made the little lady cry, papa. 
 Walter sorry ; never do it another time, papa." 
 
 " It is a pity that she is so sensitive/' said Mr. True- 
 man. "Situated as she is, life will be full of pain. I 
 wonder what can be done to help her overcome it." 
 
 " Kind treatment and time will do something for her," 
 was the reply. "Only think what she has seen and suffered 
 in the last few months. What would become of our 
 Susie, or Lucy even ? " 
 
 " It is a hard case, Linnie. I am so outraged with our 
 law-makers, that I can't sit down quietly any longer. 
 Such a child needs a father, and so do all children ; and 
 yet the law, which claims to guard the rights of the peo- 
 ple so very humanely, sanctions a traffic which, I should 
 think, a demon would be ashamed to engage in. 
 
 " I tell you, Linnie, the more I come in contact with 
 mankind, the more I see of life, the more I am convinced 
 of the depravity of the race ; you may call it total, if 
 you like. And that there is a wicked, malignant spirit, 
 full of all manner of evil, and cruel as death, is just as 
 plain to my mind as that there is a God. 
 
 " There is our hope. There is a God, perfect in all 
 his attributes ; infinite in power, as well as holiness. 
 Some time he will overthrow this whole scheme of wicked- 
 ness, and cause that truth and justice shall prevail." 
 
 He paused a moment, and then said, " I called on 
 Stillmau, and talked as kindly as I could, and made about 
 as much impression on him as I should in talking to a worm. 
 But I'll have it yet ; see if I don't." 
 
 " What do you refer to, dear ? " said his wife. 
 
 " Why, the liquor law. It has got to come, let them 
 rage as much as they please."
 
 WINNIE'S VISIT, AND THE PARTY. 133 
 
 " Then you think it will bo passed ? " 
 
 " Yes, I do. It may not this year, but it must eventu- 
 ally. The right must prevail. Lucy, you had better stay 
 in the parlor, and help the children along. Keep them, 
 at play, and see that no one slights Lottie Gray or Win- 
 nie Lentell ; that is a good girl." 
 
 " I think I shall go in, too," said Mrs. Trueman ; " and 
 we can keep them busy can't we, Lucy ? " 
 
 " Yes, mother, I shall like it, if you go ; I'm afraid 
 they wouldn't mind me." 
 
 " Lucy," said Mrs. Trueman, " several of the little 
 girls are coming ; wait on them into the nursery. Let 
 us be careful not to slight any, nor make ' lions ' of them, 
 but treat them as nearly alike as possible. But if any 
 among them seem bashful, or sad, or timid, we must take 
 extra pains to make them feel at ease. They are our 
 guests, you know." 
 
 " Yes, mother, I'll remember. I have noticed how you 
 manage." 
 
 There was a little reserve at first ; Lottie Gray was 
 painfully embarrassed, though very well dressed, thanks 
 to Mrs. Stillman. She saw Clara whisper to Regena 
 Stcele, and felt sure she was telling her, " That is my 
 dress," &c. She shrank away in one corner, and wished 
 she was at home. But Lucy's quick eye detected the 
 trouble in a moment, and she took vigorous measures to 
 remedy the evil. 
 
 " Come, girls," said she, " let us play ' Button.' Who 
 will go round first ? Well, I will begin at Clara. Susie, 
 you and Winnie corne over here and sit by Lottie ; she is 
 a little stranger to most of us. I am glad you could come 
 to-day, Lottie ; mother wants you to get acquainted."
 
 134 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 " Choose me for your judge," whispered Lucy to Win- 
 nie and Lottie. They did so, and she was sure to make 
 their penalties as light as could be, so that they need not 
 feel embarrassed. 
 
 " 0, you are having a nice time," said Mrs. Trueman. 
 " When you are tired of that, you can play ' Ilunt the 
 squirrel.' You all know how to play it, I presume." 
 
 " 0, that will be nice," said Susie. " Come, Winnie 
 and Lottie." 
 
 " Suppose you stay and hide the squirrel, Regena," 
 eaid Lucy. 
 
 And so the plays " Hunt the squirrel," " Dress the 
 lady," " Magic music," &c., went on briskly till nearly 
 tea time. Then Mrs. Trueman played and sang. 
 
 Lottie entirely forgot herself and her misfortunes. She 
 had a natural passion for music, and a fine voice. But 
 the supper that surpassed anything she had ever seen. 
 
 Mrs. Trueman was amused to see her give a quick 
 glance of pleased surprise, and then apparently remain 
 as unobservant as those always accustomed to such 
 things. Evidently she was learning. 
 
 "The party was an entire success, Lucy," said Mrs. 
 Trueman. "I was pleased with you very much so; 
 and Susie, here, was a very good girl. I think our visitors 
 were pleased with us, too, with themselves, and with 
 each other." 
 
 " That is the greatest possible compliment to their 
 entertainers," said Mr. Trueman, smiling. " You both 
 look as if you needed rest. I think you have spent the 
 afternoon profitably. It is a grand, a noble work, to help 
 bring out and cultivate the affections of the young, and 
 promote a friendly, cheerful, loving spirit among them.
 
 WINNIE'S VISIT, AND THE PARTY. 135 
 
 There is where our forefathers failed ; don't you think so, 
 Linnie ? " 
 
 " Yes, I think that was one of their greatest mistakes. 
 The emotional nature was 'sometimes smothered by the 
 sterner qualities, and life robbed of half its beauty and 
 brightness. But I fear the next generation will go to 
 the other extreme."
 
 136 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 MAKING CALLS HERE AND THERE. 
 
 WE will take a peep at Mr. and Mrs. Stillman. They 
 are at breakfast. The table looks inviting 1 , but the faces 
 around it sorrowful, or forbidding. 
 
 John's name is seldom spoken there ; but he is often 
 thought of with painful forebodings by the mother ; 
 with undefined fears by the sister. Mr. Stillman was 
 absorbed, most of the time, in his lawful calling deal- 
 ing out liquid poison taking just enough to drown the 
 still small voice within. John had shown himself so apt 
 a scholar, and seemed so mature in wickedness, made the 
 golden profits of the rum casks disappear so strangely, 
 that Mr. Stillman thought the safest course was to send 
 him to a reform school. 
 
 " Well, Maria," said Mr. Stillman, " so you have taken 
 up the hatchet, and mean to withstand me do you ? 
 We'll see. You shall go looking decently, or not go 
 at all." 
 
 " I should like to see you prevent it," she said, defiant- 
 ly ; " but as to decency, I think 1 dress far more decently 
 now than I have done in the past, considering," bend- 
 ing over towards him, and fixing her eyes steadily upon 
 liis face, speaking very slowly and impressively, "con- 
 sidering where the money comes from. Isn't it so, Kid- 
 der ? I tell you, if an angel should engage in that busi-
 
 MAKING CALLS HERE AND THERE. 137 
 
 ness, it would make a demon of him after a while. Well, 
 it is no use to talk ; while you continue in that business 
 you are nothing to me but a shame. The sooner I die the 
 better for me ." 
 
 " And for me, too," said the enraged husband, mock- 
 ingly. 
 
 Ah, well, you have seen enough of this family to give 
 you an insight into their lives. Maria was right in her 
 opposition. She was fighting on the right side, and 
 against the common enemy. 
 
 Let us go with her to Mr. Gray's. She has been 
 there before sine* the awful tragedy we have mentioned. 
 She was met at first suspiciously. Was she not the 
 wife of the man who had blighted their lives, blasted 
 all their happiness ? Why had she come ? To look at 
 their poverty and destitution ? They were both embar- 
 rassed. 
 
 "I called," she said, "to see if I could not do some- 
 thing for you." 
 
 She broke down, and wept. That was after the fu- 
 neral. Those tears opened the bleeding hearts of the 
 family ; they wept together, and then talked it all over, 
 and from that day were fast friends. As she heard 
 Mr. Gray's honest, manly statement of facts, she was 
 mortified, distressed, and indignant, in turn. 0, what a 
 revelation that was to her I 
 
 " This distresses you," said Mr. Gray. " I will stop ; 
 it will do no good." 
 
 " Yes, it will," was the reply ; " I ought to know it. 
 It seems like some awful story I have read ; arid yet all 
 this lias happened at my very door. IIow could I have 
 been kept in ignorance ? So poor Mrs. Gray inherited
 
 138 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 one of those morbid appetites for such things. You 
 told Mr. Stillman of her weakness, and yet he " She 
 remained silent a few moments, and then continued : " I 
 shall do what I can to repair the injury ; but I cannot 
 raise the dead. But as fast as I can, I shall buy back 
 the articles of furniture, and return them to you. The 
 looking-glass is in my spare chamber, I should think, by 
 your description." 
 
 " 0," said Mr. Gray, much affected, " I cannot ask, 
 or expect, that. If you will be a friend to my children, 
 and show Lottie a little about housekeeping, it will be a 
 great kindness." 
 
 " That I will do with pleasure ; and if you won't be 
 offended, I have garments, which my children have out- 
 grown, that I should like to bring over." 
 
 " Persons in our circumstances must conquer their 
 pride," was the reply. " We should be glad of them." 
 
 As Mrs. Stillman left the house, she thrust a little wad 
 of something into Lottie's hand, and disappeared. 
 
 Lottie spread it out. 
 
 "Ten dollars!" -she exclaimed. "What does she 
 mean, father ? Why, she has made a mistake." 
 
 " I guess not, my daughter ; God has put it in her 
 heart to give it. This will enable me to pay for the 
 coffin and the shroud, dear." 
 
 Mr. Gray sighed deeply as he thought of the past ; 
 a tear crept very silently down his prematurely wrinkled 
 cheek as he took the wife's offering, and went on think- 
 ing thoughts which cut and lacerated his soul which- 
 ever way he turned them. 0, sometimes God cannot 
 bestow a greater blessing than forgetfulness ; and some- 
 times it is inexpressibly blessed to remember. Mrs. 
 Stillman proved invaluable to the afllicted family.
 
 MAKING CALLS HERE AND THERE. 139 
 
 To-day, as she left her house to call on them, a bag 
 of sugar, tea, and other necessaries on her arm, a large, 
 gilt mirror in them, her tall form looked queenly, in 
 spite of last year's cloak and bonnet. She did not do this 
 stealthily, but openly and by much personal sacrifice. 
 
 " Father thanks you, and we all thank you very much 
 for the money," said Lottie, meeting her at the door. 
 " It helped him pay for mother's coffin and things." 
 
 " Don't mention it, dear child, to me or any one. I 
 wish it had been ten times as much. I am only doing 
 for you what I ought to do ; and yet I cannot undo the 
 past," she said, mournfully. 
 
 " 0, don't feel so badly, dear Mrs. Stillman," said 
 Lottie, affectionately; "you didn't do it; we don't 
 blame you." 
 
 Mrs. Stillman was weeping ; she must speak to some 
 one, or her heart would break. She looked up into the 
 sweet, pitying face of the child before her, and said, 
 
 " Lottie, you cannot understand how much this terri- 
 ble business of liquor selling has cost me. It has robbed 
 your poor father of that which was very dear ; it has 
 killed your mother and the baby, and stripped your 
 house of every comfort ; and when I think who fur- 
 nished it, I tremble ; for there is an avenging God." 
 
 " 0, but father says God loves and pities us, too," 
 said Lottie. "He forgives us when we are sorry. I 
 know he loves you, Mrs. Stillman, you are so good to 
 us. Father prays for you every day, and asks him to 
 lead you into the kingdom of grace, and give you rest." 
 
 " Dear Lottie," said Mrs. Stillman, taking her hand, 
 " you comfort me. If your father can pray for me, I 
 surely ought to pray for myself. You think I am much 
 better off than you are don't you ? "
 
 140 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 " Why, yes, I thought so," was the reply. " Your 
 house is nice, and you have everything don't you?" 
 
 Mrs. Stillman smiled sadly as she replied, 
 
 " Yes, I have a great many beautiful things ; but 
 these cannot make us happy. I have been robbed 
 as much as you have, dear, but not in the same way. 
 0, I would change places with you this moment, if I 
 could." 
 
 Lottie was perplexed. 
 
 " Your mother loved you to the last did she not ? " 
 
 " 0, yes ; when she was sober she loved us ; she was 
 never cross." 
 
 " And your father is an honest Christian man ; that is 
 much to be thankful for. But how are you getting 
 along ? Can I help you about anything to-day ? " 
 
 " Father told me to ask you how I should cook this 
 veal." 
 
 Lottie listened attentively, like one determined to 
 profit by instruction. 
 
 " It is a real pleasure to instruct you," said Mrs. Still- 
 man, " you are so teachable. You must come over 
 when you want advice ; looking after you is one of the 
 greatest comforts of my life." 
 
 " I am glad," said the simple-hearted child ; " for I 
 don't know what I should do if you didn't help me." 
 
 " I hadn't thought of that before," mused Mrs. Still- 
 man, as she went to her home of plenty of everything 
 but "peace and comfort. " I never thought of that. God 
 is a loving, pitying Father, as well as a just, avenging 
 Judge. 0, yes, Jesus was a man of sorrows, and ac- 
 quainted with grief. I cannot live so. I wonder what 
 Lottie thought of me. Dear child, she cannot know
 
 MAKING CALLS HEEE AND THERE. 141 
 
 how awful it is to have the heart's best treasures stolen, 
 and the soul stripped of love and respect for one's com- 
 panion in life, arid filled with contempt and scorn. 
 Truly, I have seen my idol shattered, my poor boy 
 ruined, and my pleasant things laid waste. Lord, pity 
 me ! " 
 
 Now that Mrs. Stillman has turned her thoughts 
 heavenward, let us leave her, and call at Mr. Trueman's. 
 Mrs. Truemau, Lucy, and Susie are preparing for a walk. 
 They look odd enough with their baskets, bundles, and 
 pails all they can possibly carry. Lucy laughed 
 heartily as she surveyed the company. 
 
 " I chose evening," said Mrs. Trueman, " because it 
 would look ostentatious to carry all this in the daytime, 
 and injure their feelings. In assisting the poor and 
 needy, we should do it as delicately as possible ; other- 
 wise it will leave a sense of shame and degradation which 
 is injurious to proper self-respect. We will wait a 
 moment for papa ; he would not miss going. lie will 
 take that bundle of clothing for Mr. Gray and Albert. 
 Lucy, you may take Lottie's new dress and cape ; Susie, 
 the bonnet and gloves. I want her to forget her sor- 
 row as much as possible. She is a noble little girl ; 
 these new things will make her think of our love and 
 respect." 
 
 " Walter wants something take it," grieved the 
 child. " Walter wants to go, too." 
 
 " Darling child," said mamma, stooping and kissing 
 him ; "he cannot go with mamma to-night. Father will 
 let us ride some day with him, and we will call and seo 
 the little girl and her brother Albert; that will do 
 won't il, darling?"
 
 142 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 "Next day to-morrow mamma," said the child, 
 pleasantly, " Walter and mamma go to ride with papa. 
 That do, mamma." 
 
 " God is blessing us far beyond our deserts," said Mr. 
 Gray. " Let us thank him for his goodness in the past, 
 and trust him in the future, my children." 
 
 The Trueman family returned home that night realizing 
 fully that " it is more blessed to give than to receive."
 
 THE SEPARATION. 143 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 THE SEPARATION. THE AGED CHRISTIAN'S DEATH-BED. 
 
 WALLACE came bounding into the room one day, say- 
 
 i"ff 
 
 " See, auntie, see ! Albert and I have found these," 
 
 holding up some trailing arbutus. 
 
 "0, yes," said Hester, "that looks like spring- 
 doesn't it ? " 
 
 " 0, dear me ! " said Sunshine ; " dey's my 'ittle sweet 
 springs ! 0, funny, funny ! " 
 
 " I didn't want to see them," said Winnie, timidly. 
 
 "Didn't you, dear? Why not?" said Hester, who 
 guessed the reason. 
 
 " Why, they say things, auntie ; everything talks to 
 me." 
 
 " Why, dese don't talk," said Sunshine ; " don't you 
 love my springs ? " 
 
 " What do they say ? " said Hester. " Tell auntie 
 about it." 
 
 " 0, they say, ' Winnie, it is May now ; you must go 
 to aunt Elevia's, and leave auntie and Wallace, Elida and 
 baby.' " 
 
 " What else talks ? " said Wallace. 
 
 " Everything ; the chimney on the large house away 
 over the woods talks, too. It looks like papa's house, 
 where grandma Lcntell lives."
 
 144 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 " What do it say ? " said Elida, with wondering eyes. 
 
 " She means that these things remind her of other 
 things, or make her remember them," said Hester. "My 
 dear child, you must not let things talk to you so much ; 
 that is, you must not look at things that make you feel 
 unhappy remind you of unpleasant events. But you 
 must look at things that remind you of the goodness of 
 God and the kindness of friends." 
 
 " What things are those ? " said Wallace. 
 
 " Why, little brother and sisters, the nice presents from 
 grandpa, and kind Mr. Trueman's folks," said Ilester. 
 
 " And at my darling dear auntie," said Winnie, cheer- 
 fully. " If I could always look at you, auntie, things 
 wouldn't talk so sadly to me. But this baby almost 
 always makes me think of mamma. And then I think 
 how papa, and mamma, and Elida, all went down to 
 grandpa Lovering's, in the winter before mamma died ; 
 and how they were coming home that very night, but a 
 great big snow came, and the wind blew, and piled it all 
 up so they couldn't get home for one, two, three four 
 days, wasn't it, AVallacc ? And we hadn't anything but 
 potatoes to eat, for papa left us with grandma Lentcll 
 till he came home ; but aunt Abigail and grandma acted 
 go we wouldn't stay. We ran home in the snow before 
 night, for we thought they'd come ; but they didn't. 0, 
 it was such a long night ! Wallace went to sleep, but I 
 couldn't; for I thought papa and mamma would get into 
 the deep snow, in the dark ; and when the wind made a 
 noise, I thought it was them. 0, dear, dear ! it makes 
 me shiver now." 
 
 " What did grandma do, that you disliked so much ? " 
 said Hester.
 
 THE SEPARATION. 145 
 
 
 
 " Why, she said I looked like the Loverings too much ; 
 and when I said, ' No, I thank you/ she and Abigail 
 laughed so loud, and said, ' That's Levering all over.' 
 And they kept doing so, and saying my mamma was 
 slack, until I was just as mad ! " 
 
 " I wouldn't say 'mad/ dear," said Hester; " you felt 
 indignant, I suppose ; I should, I am sure." 
 
 " Yes, that was the way I felt ; and I told Wallace we 
 would run home when they didn't know it, and stay till 
 the folks came." 
 
 " Did any one come to see where you were ? " 
 
 "Yes, uncle Simeon came, just before it was dark, and 
 wanted us to go home with him. I said I couldn't, for 
 grandma didn't love us. He laughed, and said I was a 
 little goose to mind her, for she didn't love anybody. 
 But I couldn't go ; I thought they'd come. He said he'd 
 stay, but mother would storm worse than the snow if he 
 did. So the next day after one he came and brought us 
 something in a pail, and said, ' Mother says you deserve 
 to starve for running home ; but she has sent you some- 
 thing, little spunk.' I was real glad, for I thought, now 
 we'll have some nice doughnuts, or pancakes, or pie, or 
 something good. So I got a tin pan to put them in, and 
 he just took out some dry pieces of bread, most all crust, 
 and some pieces of cheese. Uncle Simeon said an awful 
 thing then, auntie; he said she was ' a mean old cuss.' ' 
 
 " My dear children," said Hester, " I dislike to have 
 you repeat such language. You will try to avoid it in 
 the future won't you? Didn't you have anything but 
 potatoes all that time ? " 
 
 "0, yes, auntie; at first there was some bread and 
 meat ; but we ate that up pretty soon." 
 10
 
 146 HESTER STKOXG'S LIFE WOKK. 
 
 " What did your father say, when he came ? " 
 
 "Why, he" Winnie hesitated "why, he said just 
 as uncle Simeon did." 
 
 " Did he say old fuss ? " said Elida. 
 
 " There," said Hester, " you see how quickly the little 
 ones catch such words. So you must be careful not to 
 speak them." 
 
 " Yes," said Winnie, " I will. But after father went 
 over there, he said she served us right ; we ought to 
 have staid where he left us. They brought lots of nice 
 things from grandpa Lovering's. I was glad I was like 
 them, for I think they are the best don't you, auntie?" 
 
 " Yes, dear, I do ; and I like to. have you resemble 
 them, for I love them very much." 
 
 After a few moments' silence, Winnie said, 
 
 " How long is a year, auntie ? " 
 
 " It is twelve months, darling." 
 
 " Well, how many weeks are there in a year ? " 
 
 " Fifty-two." 
 
 " 0, that is a great many," sighed Winnie. " Well, 
 how many days, auntie ? " 
 
 " Three hundred and " 
 
 " 0, auntie, don't say any more. It never will be 
 over." 
 
 " Of what are you thinking now, dear ? " 
 
 " Why, I arn to stay with aunt Elevia a year ; and it 
 is so very long." 
 
 Hester saw her mistake in specifying any time in the 
 child's hearing. She hardly knew what to say. She 
 reflected a moment, and then said, cheerfully, 
 
 "Perhaps they won't want you so long, or perhaps 
 you will want to stay always. There come your uncle
 
 THE SEPARATION. 14f 
 
 and aunt tins moment. Now, see what a brave little 
 girl you can be." 
 
 Winnie turned pale, and Hester herself felt strangely 
 agitated. She, too, had to be brave. "When Winnie 
 was prepared to go, she went in to take leave of grandpa 
 Manlie's family. 
 
 "God bless you, my dear little girl," said grandpa, 
 " and keep you, and bring you into the kingdom at last." 
 
 Grandma laid her hand on the child's head, prayed 
 silently for a moment, and then said, 
 
 " Kiss me, little Winnie, good by." 
 
 " You must come and see us often," said Martha, 
 striving to hide her emotion. Something in her mother's 
 voice and manner affected her. Winnie kissed the chil- 
 dren, calling the baby many pet names ; but when she 
 came to Hester, she threw her arms convulsively around 
 her neck, overcome with suppressed emotion. 
 
 Hester allowed her to weep a few moments, simply 
 drawing her close to her bosom, and motioning the 
 others to be silent. She then led her into another room, 
 and said, 
 
 " Our Father in heaven has ordered it so, darling. He 
 knows what is best for us don't you think so ? " 
 
 " Yes, auntie ; but I am so wicked I can't get near 
 enough to him. He is away off. And Jesus is good, 
 and wants to comfort me ; but I am so naughty I want to 
 stay with you, I love you best, or go to mamma. I 
 wish I could love Jesus best." 
 
 Hester talked very kindly to the child, and then, kneel- 
 ing down by her, prayed that God would bless little 
 Winnie, and forgive her sins for Jesus' sake ; that the 
 Blessed Spirit would teach her to be good and happy
 
 148 HESTEK STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 ' teach her to cast all her sorrows upon Jesus, who loved 
 her and died to redeem her. " Dear Father," she prayed, 
 " wilt thou pity and love her, and help her to love and 
 trust iii thee ! Now, dear," said she, "I want you to 
 promise me that you won't talk with things that make you 
 sad, but when you are lonesome and feel badly, go and tell 
 Jesus. He alone can make you happy. He will draw 
 you so near to him that you will feel safe. Good by, 
 dear be brave." 
 
 When Winnie had left the room, grandma said, with 
 a smile on her wrinkled face, 
 
 " Martha, it is the last time. I shan't see her hero 
 again. I shall take that kiss to Harmony and Mary 
 soon." 
 
 Grandpa arose, went to the bed where she had been 
 lying several weeks, took her hand as tenderly as he had 
 taken it more than sixty years before, when he said, 
 "Mary, will you be mine take me for better arid for 
 worse ? " and said, 
 
 " Mary, are you tired ? Are you going home to leave 
 me? 0, Mary, I hoped we should go together can't 
 we ? " bursting into tears. 
 
 " Sit down near me, father ; I want to talk about this. 
 I have been lingering on the shore some time ; I wasn't 
 willing to go over alone, dear. I have waited for you. 
 We have travelled a long, long way together, and the 
 road has been rough sometimes ; sickness and death have 
 met us on the way ; but you have been true, dear true 
 as the needle to the pole, and kind as a mother could be 
 to the child at her breast. 
 
 ' We have borne each other's sorrows, 
 And shared each other's joys,'
 
 THE AGED CHRISTIAN'S DEATH-BED. 149 
 
 haven't we, dear ? Don't weep so ; it will break my 
 heart. It is only a little while and you will be called ; 
 Jesus will come over with you. Martha will bo a tender 
 nurse, dear ; comfort her when I am gone. She will 
 miss us less if we go one at a time. By and by we 
 shall all get home. Glory be to God and the Lamb ! " 
 
 " But, mother," said Martha, " what shall we do with- 
 out you ? What makes you think you are going ? You 
 were as feeble as this last spring. 0, we can't spare 
 you." 
 
 "0, yes, you can, child: 'As thy day, so shall thy 
 strength be.' God will support you : hasn't he always ? 
 Are you not willing I should enter into rest, my child ? 
 I shall have an abundant entrance. I hear my Saviour 
 calling, and I long to go. Remember that ' he doeth all 
 things well,' and bless the hand that leads me to my 
 Father's house." 
 
 The voice faltered ; she fell into a gentle, quiet sleep, 
 never speaking again on earth. She lingered several 
 days, knew them, and smiled faintly when they talked to 
 her of Jesus and heaven. She motioned Hester to sing, 
 and looked serenely happy while she sang, 
 
 " ' What's this that steals, that steals upon me now? 
 
 Is it death ? is it death ? 
 If this be death, I soon shall be 
 From every sin and sorrow free ; 
 I shall the King of Glory see ! 
 
 All is well ! all is well ! ' " 
 
 Grandpa said but little. He sat by the bed, holding 
 the faded hand as if it had been an infant's, kissing the 
 wrinkled cheek reverently. Thus they waited and 
 watched, cheering each other by speaking of the better 
 land,
 
 150 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 ".0, Hester," said Martha, leaning on her broad 
 shoulder, "you comfort and sustain me in this trying 1 
 hour. I would not hold her back, but I dread to have 
 her go." 
 
 " You will be willing when the time comes," said 
 Hester. " But we must restrain our grief for grandpa's 
 sake," she whispered. " Their souls are so knit together 
 that when one is loosed the other will feel it deeply. I 
 fear for him." 
 
 0, how eagerly he watched the flickering light ! 
 placed his trembling finger on the feeble pulse ! lie 
 groaned a deep, inward groan when the light went out 
 and the pulses stopped. 
 
 "Rejoice," said Hester; "she is with the angels! 
 Rejoice ; she has entered into rest ! The Lord reigneth ; 
 he doeth all things well. Let us pray." 
 
 She stepped lightly, she walked softly with God, pray- 
 ing that the Spirit might indite her petitions, comfort 
 and heal these bleeding hearts. They were comforted 
 and sustained, and blessed anew the Father of all mer- 
 cies for giving them Hester Strong.
 
 THE NEW HOME AND ITS TRIALS. 151 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 THE NEW HOME AND ITS TRIALS. MR. WILEY'S 
 FAMILY. 
 
 " THIS is a much more desirable home, Winnie, than 
 the one you have left," said Mr. Giles. " I hope you 
 will try to deserve it, and be so obedient and industrious 
 that I shall be willing to let you stay. It isn't every 
 destitute child that is so fortunate. Don't you think 
 this is a nice house ? " he inquired. " Were you ever 
 in one like it before ? " 
 
 Winnie was embarrassed ; grandpa Manlie's old-fash- 
 ioned house was much more desirable to her. She was 
 longing for the dear home left, its dusky walls, and 
 the dear faces around the capacious hearth. 
 
 " I think this is a pretty house," she said, timidly ; 
 " it is something like the one papa built." 
 
 Mr. Giles gave a low whistle, and remarked to his 
 wife, 
 
 " She's got the Lovering pride ; will never be grateful, 
 do what you will for her." 
 
 " Gratitude is a rare virtue," said Elevia, quietly ; it 
 thrives best in an atmosphere of unselfish love. I think 
 my dear little niece has proved conclusively that she has 
 a losing, grateful heart. I shouldn't wish to have her 
 manifest more feeling, than she did when leaving Hes- 
 ter."
 
 152 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 " She had better have staid with her, then, in that 
 dingy old house. I dare say it is more like home to her 
 than this," was the cutting reply. Winnie turned red, 
 then pale, as she thought, 
 
 " Then lliey don't want me, either." 
 
 Elevia read her thoughts. Calling her into the nursery, 
 where Unie was sleeping, she gave her a pretty, enter- 
 taining book to read, and requested her to sit by baby 
 and keep her asleep. She returned to the room where 
 her husband was sitting, went up to him, and spoke his 
 name softly, but sadly. 
 
 " What now ? " was the ungracious reply ; " another 
 scene? I am sick of them." 
 
 " I don't wish for another scene," was the reply ; 
 " the one on hand is to be my theme. I am sorry you 
 should wound the child's feelings so. I told you be- 
 fore she came, that I should not let her come to be 
 abused. She had far better go to the workhouse. I 
 told you I would try to get along with her assistance, if 
 you would treat her kindly. Otherwise, she shall not stay 
 and you will be under the necessity of hiring help." 
 
 "Whew 1 " said Mr. Giles. "That is rule No. 4 
 isn't it ? First, I am to treat you just the same at home 
 as abroad, alone and in company. A capital joke ! Then 
 I am to give you money to keep by you, without asking 
 you to account for it. Good ! Then I am to replenish 
 the family larder without comment that's it, I believe. 
 And now I am to treat a beggar like a princess. Am I 
 correct, Lev ?" 
 
 Mr. Giles whistled " Moll Brooks," &c. Elevia stood 
 there waiting, very calmly, to all appearance, but her 
 heart beat painfully.
 
 THE NEW HO3IE AND ITS TRIALS. 153 
 
 " Mason," she said, choking down her emotion, " you 
 treat these things lightly. I, at least, am serious and in 
 earnest. I was never more so in my life. I cannot, 
 and I will not, bear these insults. I shall not live a year 
 in this way ; and on my own account I do not wish to." 
 
 " You needn't live on my account," was the mocking 
 reply. " Don't, I beg of you. There are plenty of 
 handsome girls waiting and wishing to become Mrs. Giles 
 second ; so don't put yourself out." He laughed as 
 only such persons can laugh. 
 
 " Defeated again," sighed Elevia. " God, there is 
 nothing left for me but misery or death. But that 
 child's life shall not be blasted in this house. I might 
 have known it would be so. Why could he not have 
 told mo frankly that he should treat her like a bond- 
 girl, before she came ? I told him I should receive her 
 as a beloved child, and that he must not go for her unless 
 he was willing to do the same. He made no objections. 
 How foolish I am to expect anything better of him ! " 
 
 Winnie laid the pretty book in her lap unread. She 
 was thinking. Child as she was, what she had seen and 
 heard in her new home filled her with sadness. She felt 
 that this would never, never seem like home. She felt 
 sure her aunt was not happy, and wondered why it was. 
 Her house was very nice, and all the things in it were 
 new and beautiful. Her mind was sorely perplexed. 
 She did not think it strange her uncle did not want her ; 
 no one did ; and the old wish to die and go to mamma 
 came back with overpowering force. She began to weep 
 violently. Baby stirred ; she stifled the bitter sobs 
 nobly, saying, 
 
 " 0, dear ! I am always doing something. There, I
 
 154 HESTEH STRONG'S LIFE WOKK. 
 
 mustn't cry now ; it will wake the baby. To-night, when 
 they are all asleep, I'll cry. No, I guess I will tell Jesus 
 about it ; auntie said I must. 0, mother, mother," she 
 cried, " your little girl is sad." 
 
 Thus Winnie rocked the cradle, and talked with her 
 own thoughts, till baby awoke. This was the longest 
 half day she had ever seen. 
 
 " Three hundred and sixty -four and a half more of> 
 them ! " she mused, clasping her small hands tightly. 
 Mrs. Giles exerted herself very much to banish the un- 
 favorable impressions of the afternoon from Winnie's 
 mind, and partially succeeded. She went to her room 
 with her when she retired. 
 
 " You shall go to see aunt Hester and the children 
 every week," she said, " and carry the milk over to Mr. 
 Wiley's every pleasant morning. Envena is about your 
 age." 
 
 " Who is Mr. Wiley ? " inquired Winnie. 
 
 " 0, he married your uncle Mason's sister. They live 
 in the large white house over there," pointing in the 
 direction. 
 
 " Please, what dress shall I put on in the morning, 
 auntie ? " 
 
 " 0, your red one, I guess, for you are a stranger in 
 this neighborhood." Winnie was pleased with the novel- 
 ty of carrying the milk, and wondered what they would 
 say to her, till her aunt took the light, kissed her, and 
 said good night. 
 
 Now, she was left up stairs alone for the first time in 
 her life. She had nearly always fallen asleep amid the 
 hum of voices, or while listening to mother or aunt 
 Hester singing to the children. A feeling of indescrib-
 
 THE NEW HOME AND ITS TRIALS. 155 
 
 able loneliness, amounting to fear, crept over her. She 
 covered her face. 
 
 " I didn't pray," she whispered, "that is the reason I 
 feel so. But I am afraid to get up in the dark. I won- 
 der if God won't hear me if I pray in bed." She crawled 
 away down under the clothes, listening for she knew not 
 what. Eemembering that her mother prayed when she 
 was so very sick, and that she seemed easier afterwards, 
 Winnie resolved to pray. She tried to think of the words 
 aunt Hester used in the morning, but could not. " 
 God, my Father in heaven," was all she could say for 
 some time. This she repeated over and over, with sobs 
 and tears. "Dear Jesus, I am a poor little girl that 
 nobody wants, because there are so many of us. Do, 
 Jesus, let me go to mamma ; there is room there. 0, let 
 me come to you, dear Jesus ; let me come to you. Help 
 me to submit." Thus she prayed and wept, until, re- 
 lieved, she fell asleep. 
 
 0, ye of little faith, can ye not believe that Jesus, 
 the loving, pitying Jesus, sent the Comforter to that lone- 
 ly, suffering one, in answer to that feeble, broken prayer ? 
 Verity so it was. Winnie arose, with a calm, peaceful 
 feeling, in the morning. She did not forget to thank God 
 for all his goodness, and ask him to give her a new heart. 
 
 " 0, I know now what my Father in heaven wants of 
 me," she mused. " He wants me to comfort aunt Elevia, 
 she is so sad. I guess her husband don't love her much. 
 She looks like my dear mamma. She used to fold me in 
 her arms, and say, ' You are mother's comfort, darling.' 
 How happy that used to make me ! Nothing can ever 
 make me very happy again, I think ; but aunt Hester 
 says I shall be happier than ever before, when this cloud
 
 156 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 i 
 
 passes over, if I trust in Jesus, and live to make others 
 happy. 
 
 " Dear Jesus, I want to love you more, and trust you, 
 and be like you. Won't you teach me, and help me to 
 do right ? 0,1 forgot to ask God to bless anybody but 
 myself." She knelt again, to invoke the blessing of God 
 upon the dear ones at home, not forgetting her earthly 
 parent, and then hurried down to see what she could do 
 for her aunt. 
 
 " I must look cheerful," she thought. " Aunt Hester 
 says that is one way to do good." 
 
 Mrs. Giles met her with a kind good morning, inquired 
 how she had rested, &c. ; but Winnie saw at a glance that 
 she was sad and weary ; so she did not say, " What can I 
 do for you ? " but looked sharp to see where she was 
 most needed. Baby was sitting in the cradle, reaching 
 out its arms to its weary mother, and ^moaning piteously. 
 Winnie was a skilful little general in baby tactics ; so she 
 took advantage of her position, and very soon baby for- 
 got its aching teeth, and was having a nice frolic. 
 
 Mamma forgot her weariness as she listened to the 
 jubilant children. The breakfast was ready in season, 
 and Mr. Giles was at a loss to find fault with anything. 
 Ilis wife began to take courage. 
 
 " Elevia, I think you use more coffee than you need to. 
 Now, it isn't a mite better for being too strong. I have 
 told you so a great many times. I do wish you would 
 pay attention to what I say. Coffee costs money." He 
 waited for a reply. Elevia was silent. 
 
 " Why don't you answer me ? " he inquired, indig- 
 nantly. 
 
 " What was your question ? " was the reply ; " I heard 
 none."
 
 TIIE NEW HOME AND ITS TEIALS. 157 
 
 " There it comes, the real Levering pride and stubborn- 
 ness. I say the coflee is too strong 1 ." 
 
 " Yes, I heard you say that. I have heard you say it 
 several times lately. Day before yesterday it was too 
 weak. About half the time it is too weak, and the other 
 half too strong ; and yet for the last few weeks I have 
 been particular to put in just the quantity you specified. 
 Now, if you will tell me just how much less to put in, I 
 will try to suit you. But I tell you plainly that I will 
 not submit to so much unreasonable fault-finding." 
 
 Elevia broke down, as she always did ; and the tears 
 came trickling slowly down her cheeks, which were really 
 very pale and thin. 
 
 " 0, well, you needn't cry ; I am used to that," was 
 the insulting reply. " Your tears move me about as 
 much as your threats. You ' will not submit ; ' ' will 
 not ' that is getting to be a common expression with, 
 you. I should like to know what you will do about it. 
 If a man can't have his way in his own house, where 
 upon earth can he ? If a man can't be master in his own 
 family, he isn't a man." 
 
 " I agree with you, Mr. Giles. I never objected to 
 your being master here." She spoke calmly, looking 
 him steadily in the face. " I claim to be the mistress in 
 this house ; if I am not, what am I ? You didn't buy 
 me of my father did you ? " 
 
 "No; but I wish I had," was the cool reply. "I 
 would break that stubborn will, or worse than that," with 
 a look so full of bitter scorn and hate, that Winnie be- 
 came alarmed. Thus the meal ended, and Mr. Giles went 
 to his daily labor, much to her relief. She pitied her 
 aunt more than ever, and sought for opportunities to cheer
 
 158 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 and help her ; wishing 1 all the time that she could tell her 
 of Jesus, and the way to be happy. 
 
 " Now you can go and carry the milk to Mr. Wiley's," 
 said her aunt, " and invite Envena to come over this 
 afternoon, and go out a little while with you to search 
 for May-flowers. Should you like to ? " 
 
 " Yes, auntie, very much ; but you arc almost sick. 
 I should rather stay and play with Unic, and let you rest." 
 Elevia was so unused to kindness or consideration recent- 
 ly, that this thoughtful ness affected her. She stooped 
 and kissed the upturned mouth, saying, 
 
 " You are a darling child ; auntie loves you very much." 
 
 " That sounds like my mamma," said Winnie, smiling 
 through the tears which just then sprang unbidden to 
 her eyes. " I am glad you love me, and I want you to 
 tell me of it a good many times, because I forget ; and I 
 am so naughty, I think nobody can love me much. Aunt 
 Hester says everybody loves me, and I think they do ; 
 but I shouldn't think they could. But there is somebody 
 else I want you to love, auntie," she said, timidly. 
 
 "Who is it, dear ? Aunt Hester and the children ? 
 I love them ever so much." 
 
 " No, auntie ; I want you to love our Father in heaven, 
 and Jesus. Mother used to call him the sinner's Friend. 
 She loved him, and I am trying to love him ; and to-day 
 I think he loves me. I feel as if I just wanted him to 
 take my hand and lead me ; and when I cry, I would 
 love to have him wipe the tears awry, as mamma did ; 
 and when I am sick, I want to lay my head on his bosom 
 and rest. God don't seem so far off as ho did. 0, auntie, 
 do you think I have really found him ? " 
 
 " I hope so, dear ; I should think so. - How long have 
 you felt in that way ? "
 
 MR. WILEY'S FAMILY. 159 
 
 " 0, only tins morning. Last night I felt so bad I 
 wanted to die ; but I was afraid of God, and so I prayed 
 as fast as I could, and by and by I felt better, and began 
 to say mamma's hymn, 
 
 ' Jesus, Lover of my soul, 
 Let me to thy bosom fly.' 
 
 It seemed to me as if he did open his arms wide, and I 
 crept in, and didn't feel alone. And then I went to sleep, 
 and never waked up till morning. And this morning I 
 feel so different I don't want to go to mamma, but stay 
 to comfort you. Mamma is just as happy as she can 
 be without us isn't she, auutio ? " 
 
 Elevia hardly knew what to say. 
 
 " that I, too, could find Jesus ! " she thought. " I 
 need him. Perhaps this darling child has come to lead 
 me to him." 
 
 "Yes, dear," she replied, " I think your mother is 
 supremely happy, and I believe yon have become a Chris- 
 tian, one of Christ's little ones. I hope it is so ; and 
 now you shall be my teacher." 
 
 "0, not your teacher, auntie } the LToly Spirit must 
 be your Teacher ; mother used to say so, and auntie 
 Hester says so. Let me be your comforter ; that is what 
 mother called me." Winnie thought, as she tripped 
 lightly along, 
 
 " 'Tis beautiful out here. I never was in such a lovely 
 place before. The willows are so pretty, shaking their 
 leaves iu the sun ! How fresh the grass is ! it looks as 
 if God had kissed it in the night. I guess the birdies 
 love him better than they did, they sing so sweetly. I
 
 160 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 wonder if I can sing any better than I could before. I'll 
 sing aunt Hester's hymn : 
 
 'Rejoice! rejoice! the promised day is coming; 
 Eejoice ! rejoice ! the wilderness shall bloom,' " 
 
 sang the youthful disciple, with great satisfaction, little 
 thinking that the change, the beautiful, sublime change, 
 was iu her own soul, wrought there by the transforming 
 grace of God. 
 
 " Aunt Elevia let me bring the milk this morning," 
 said Winnie, when Mr. Wiley had opened the door. 
 
 "Well, come in," was the reply. " Envena has been 
 wanting to come over and see you. " Here, Venie, here 
 is the little girl you are so curious to see. She looks 
 like any other child don't she ? " Envena received her 
 very cordially, smiled, and said many pleasant things. 
 She praised her hair, wished hers was as pretty ; praised 
 her dress, and wished she could have one like it. Win- 
 nie was delighted with her new friend. She longed to 
 tell her of Jesus, but dared not. She invited her to come 
 over and play with her and the baby, after dinner. 
 
 "I should like to come," said Envena, as she walked 
 a little piece with Winnie ; " but I shouldn't think my 
 aunt Elevia would keep you cooped up in the house this 
 pleasant day. I run out of doors all the time ; it is more 
 healthy. 1 ' . 
 
 " 0, she wants me to go out ; but she is almost sick, 
 and I'd rather stay in and tend the baby." 
 
 " She isn't very sick," said Envena, in a soft, loving 
 tone; '' I wouldn't wait upon her, if I were you; but 
 perhaps you are used to working hard, and don't care to 
 play. Did your father buy that dress for you ? My 

 
 MR. WILEY'S FAMILY. 161 
 
 father is able, but mother says he is stingy. 0, now I've 
 hurt your feelings. I'm sorry ; forgive me wont you ? I 
 am real glad you have come to live here ; we can go to 
 school together, and have nice times." 
 
 Winnie brightened up ; she didn't like some things her 
 new friend had said ; but she was so pleasant, so gentle 
 and affectionate, that she was, on the whole, quite sure 
 she was a good little girl, and didn't mean any harm. 
 11
 
 162 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WOUK. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 THE GOOD SHEPHERD'S WATCHFULNESS. THE DISCLOSURE. 
 THE BURIAL. 
 
 WINNIE was beginning to feel quite at home in her 
 uncle's house. She had something to do ; she was 
 needed. Mrs. Giles was becoming so feeble that her 
 time was all occupied in useful, loving labor. She saw 
 Envena daily ; was fascinated with her, she was so 
 thoughtful, so tender, and loving ; but somehow there 
 was a little tinge of unhappiness left in her mind after 
 every interview something of regret or mortification 
 something which made her feel that her lot was hard, 
 that her aunt was just the least bit to be blamed for 
 something, that the baby was troublesome, &c. And so 
 the child-Christian had to flee to Christ often, and on her 
 bended knees, with clasped hands, beseech him to give 
 her a submissive heart. She remembered aunt Hester's 
 motto "Submission to God is a sure and safe pass- 
 port to peace tfnd happiness." And the good Shepherd, 
 true to his promise, always gave her an answer of peace, 
 and extracted the little poison arrows which had been 
 so naturally and skilfully sent into her sensitive soul by 
 one perfectly qualified by nature and education to de- 
 ceive and wound without disgusting or alienating the 
 victim.
 
 THE GOOD SHEPHERD'S WATCHFULNESS. 163 
 
 Elevia saw daily new evidence that Winnie was in- 
 deed a Christian. She herself felt an indescribable 
 yearning after something to lean upon some place to 
 rest a refuge from the storms of life. Both mind and 
 body were weak ; she could not grasp the strong, safe 
 anchor of hope which was just in sight. She was faint 
 and weary with the conflict in her own soul, and the 
 unjust treatment of her husband. 
 
 The week had passed, yet Winnie had not visited or 
 heard from her old home. She was longing to go and 
 tell them what Christ had done for her ; but her aunt 
 seemed so unwell and sad, that she was not willing to 
 leave her. 
 
 Just then grandpa Levering drove up to the door. 
 She was delighted, for " now," she thought, " I shall 
 hear all about them, and he will see how sick and un- 
 happy auntie is, and he will do something for her. 
 
 " 0, grandpa," she exclaimed, rushing out to meet 
 him, " I am so glad you've come ! Auntie is sick, and I 
 am so different ! I want to tell you." 
 
 " Why," said he, in surprise, " is Elevia sick ? I saw 
 Mason yesterday ; he did not speak of it. But what has 
 come over my little girl ?" taking her hand and starting 
 for the house. 
 
 " 0, I am a great deal happier than I was. I hope 
 I have learned to submit. God is very near, and I love 
 him. I don't want to go to mamma. Jesus is my 
 Saviour, and I want to serve him here." 
 
 Tears came into grandpa's eyes as he patted the up- 
 turned cheek and said, 
 
 " I thank God that my little Winnie has chosen that 
 better part, which shall not be taken from her."
 
 164 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 He was grieved to see Elevia looking BO pale and thin, 
 so weary and hopeless. 
 
 " Elevia, child, come here and sit on father's knee ; 
 perhaps it will do us both good. How long have you 
 been so weak, dear ? Does Mason know how ill you are ? 
 I inquired yesterday ; he said you were well." 
 
 "0, father, father," sobbed Elevia, overcome by those 
 few tender words, " take me home with you. 0, take 
 me somewhere ; I cannot breathe here. He hates me ; 
 he has told me so, many, many times." 
 
 Mr. Levering folded his strong arms around the shrink- 
 ing wife, and said, 
 
 " If that is true, my daughter, you shall go. Thank 
 God, I have a home for you. But you are sick and sensi- 
 tive nervous, perhaps. Poor child, you need your 
 mother. What a loss she was to us all ! There, lie on 
 father's breast ; I know it isn't as soft as hers, but it is 
 true, Levie." 
 
 She wept on. Now that the gates were open, it was 
 hard to close them. 
 
 " Impossible," mused grandpa, aloud, " impossible. 
 How pleasant he seemed yesterday ! and yet I have felt 
 at times that all was not quite right. Winnie, don't you 
 think uncle Mason loves my little Levic here, and means 
 to be kind to her ?" 
 
 " I don't know what he does mean, grandpa," was the 
 simple, honest reply ; " but he don't act as if he loved 
 her. He scolds awfully when he is alone with her, and 
 doesn't behave a bit good. He pushed her this morning 
 because she couldn't fix his collar right." 
 
 Mr. Lovering was shocked and confounded by tho 
 child's reply. He could not speak for several moments. 
 He then said,
 
 THE DISCLOSURE. 165 
 
 " What did your aunt say, Winnie ? " 
 
 " 0, she cried, and went up stairs. Uncle Mason was 
 real pleasant to me when she was gone ; said I was 
 beautiful, and could do things better than my aunt. 
 He tried to give me some raisins, but I couldn't take 
 them, I felt so ; and then he went out." 
 
 " Where is he now ? " he inquired. " I must see and 
 converse with him. But I came to carry you over to 
 mother Manlie's funeral." 
 
 " Why, is she dead ? " asked Elevia and Winnie in a 
 breath. 
 
 " Yes ; didn't Mason tell you ? I asked him to bring 
 you, but he said his engagements were such that he 
 could not ; so I concluded to come myself." 
 
 " lie didn't mention it," said Elevia, forgetting to 
 weep. " Poor grandfather and aunt Martha, how they 
 will miss her ! " 
 
 " Yes," was the reply, " but Hester is there, like a 
 tower of strength for them to lean on ; and they have an 
 Almighty Friend, who sticketh closer than a brother, you 
 know. 0, my daughter, why will you not make him 
 your Friend also ? You need religion ; why will you not 
 come to Christ ? He will give you rest and peace." 
 
 " I am trying, father ; but I am so unworthy ! I was 
 so thoughtless about these things when I was happy at 
 home ; and when I was married, then I thought I was 
 happy enough without religion. I worshipped Mason. 
 But I must see grandma again before they bury her. 
 How often she has tried to lead me to Christ ! 0, I must 
 see her." 
 
 " Do you feel strong enough to go, dear ? " asked Mr. 
 Loverinjc.
 
 166 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 " Yes, I think I am. I must go ; I want to see Hes- 
 ter and all of them so much." 
 
 " Well, my daughter, I think you had better go. I 
 will find Mason and talk with him while you are getting 
 ready." 
 
 " 0, father, if he knows I have told you anything, 
 how shall I stay here ? " she said, with a startled look. 
 
 " What, Elevia, afraid of your husband ! afraid of 
 him ! Has it come to this ? Rest easy, my dear child. I 
 will wait, and be very wise." 
 
 Elevia was reassured. Winnie was very quiet and 
 helpful. She anticipated all her aunt's wishes, and did 
 all in her power to help her. 
 
 "You are such a comfort, Winnie!" she said; "so 
 different from what I was at your age ! I don't know 
 what I should do without you." 
 
 Winnie smiled through her tears, feeling amply paid 
 for her efforts. 
 
 " I am so glad I can help you ! " she said ; "it makes 
 me happy. I thought when mamma died I should never 
 be a comfort to anybody again. God is very good, and 
 grandma Manlie has gone to live with him, and before 
 this she has found my sweet mamma. 0, they are so 
 joyful up there ! I can almost hear them sing. Now 
 mamma will hear from us. I wish, 0, I wish she could 
 know I have found the way." 
 
 " She will know it, dear ; the angels rejoice when sin- 
 ners repent ; she will know it." 
 
 Mr. Lovering tried to banish all coldness from his 
 manner when he met his son-in-law> and treat him with 
 cordiality. 
 
 " I came over to take your family to the funeral," said
 
 THE DISCLOSURE. 167 
 
 ho. " I wish you could go. You forgot to mention it 
 to Elcvia." 
 
 " Yes, I declare it slipped my mind. Is Levie going- ? 
 She don't seem well to-day. I am afraid the excitement 
 will be too much for her." 
 
 " 0, I guess it won't hurt her," said Mr. Love-ring, 
 clinching the right hand into his hair. " No, I guess it 
 won't hurt her to go. She looks feeble very. I fear 
 she is going the way of Harmony and her mother. Have 
 you consulted a physician ? " 
 
 " No, I haven't ; she isn't willing to do anything for 
 herself. She wouldn't take medicine if she had it." 
 
 " I think she needs rest more than anything," said 
 Mr. Lovering. " The babe is fretful. If you could 
 bring her, and the baby, and Winnie, over to my house 
 for a few weeks, it would be a good thing. I'm thinking 
 you'll have to hire a nurse soon if you don't." 
 
 " 0, I have no idea she would be willing to go," wa,s 
 the reply; "and as to hiring help, she preferred the 
 little girl Winnie. I couldn't think of having two." 
 
 " 0, ah," said Mr. Lovering, almost losing command 
 of himself ; " 0, I guess she would come if you wished 
 it. But Winnie is to go to school, you remember ; that 
 was the condition wasn't it ? You told me your prop- 
 erty amounted to fifteen thousand, I believe, when you 
 asked for my daughter. I should think that would en- 
 able you to keep help when your wife is sick," he said, 
 in a jocose way. "But I must go; the funeral is at 
 t\vo. Come over ; I have an excellent housekeeper now, 
 and have been making some alterations in my house. 
 Judith is rather troublesome, and I have a very summary 
 \v;iy of getting along with such folks without quarrelling.
 
 168 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 You see, when folks can't live without a perpetual quar- 
 rel, they had better be separated don't you think so ?" 
 
 " Why, yes, I suppose that is the best way," stam- 
 mered Mr. Giles. 
 
 " Well, I have closed all doors between the two fami- 
 lies. 0, if I had known how it was I should have saved 
 my wife some vexatious things. I mean to treat Judith 
 well ; she has her good qualities, but she is stingy and 
 selfish. Bring Levie over soon. Good by." 
 
 There was a great gathering at the funeral ; children 
 and grandchildren, friends and neighbors, carne to sym- 
 pathize with the mourners, and pay a last tribute of 
 respect to Mrs. Manlie, who was loved and esteemed for 
 her many virtues. Hester, by common consent, led the 
 aged mourner to the coffin, and supported his tottering 
 steps, in company with the weeping Martha, to the vil- 
 lage graveyard, which was close at hand. 
 
 " Lean hard as you please, father," she whispered, as 
 they neared the spot, and her eye fell upon a marble 
 slab with this inscription : 
 
 To THE MEMORY OP 
 HORACE 3L, . Mi .A. INT r, I E , 
 
 WHO DIED IN 1829, AGED 28. 
 
 As she stood there waiting, she glanced back for a 
 moment, sighed deeply, and then looked steadily into the 
 future. Faith arose triumphant. She felt like joining in 
 the exultant song of triumph with the redeemed beyond 
 the veil. The harsh rattling of the falling earth upon the 
 coffin disturbed the glorious vision. The aged pilgrim 
 leaned heavily upon her arm. She felt the bowed form 
 shrink and tremble at every grating sound.
 
 THE BURIAL. 169 
 
 " Shall we go ? " she whispered. " They are not 
 here ' dust to dust ' but they are among the angels, 
 and near the throne. 0, they cannot come to us ; thank 
 God, we can go to them. What a joyful meeting ! " 
 
 " Hester," said grandpa Manlie, after the funeral, 
 " Horace could not have comforted me, supported my 
 feeble steps, and cared for me, more tenderly than you 
 have. They should have named you ' Comfort.' Let us 
 have but one table, one home, after this. I need you, 
 and Martha needs you." 
 
 " It is a great happiness to me," said Hester, "to be 
 able to fill Horace's place to you in a small degree. But 
 won't the children trouble you ? " 
 
 " No ; they will be a blessing. I will keep our room 
 Mary's and mine just the same. We will have a 
 common sitting-room all things common but that room. 
 When I feel like seeing any one in there, I will say so." 
 
 Martha joined in his request, and Hester gave a cheer- 
 ful consent. 
 
 " We shan't quarrel," said Martha, " unless Hester 
 claims more than her share of the work." 
 
 " Well," said Hester, " you must let me do just all I 
 please. I am strong, both by name and nature. But I 
 see another difficulty Martha will be claiming a full 
 share of the care of the children, and their affections, too." 
 
 " The baby is to be my especial charge," said grandpa. 
 " I want to call her ' Mary.' ' 
 
 " Mary Fostina isn't a bad name," said Hester. " I 
 like it. We will call her that." 
 
 It was affecting to witness his watchful tenderness of 
 the little one. Her cradle was admitted to the room of 
 Bacred memories. There she took her daily naps undis-
 
 170 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 turbed by noise, and not a fly or mosquito dared approach 
 the little sleeper. 
 
 " My Mary ! " he spoke it often, and lingered loving- 
 ly over the sound. " My Mary ! ' ; how lie loved to 
 speak it ! It became a household word. Winnie and 
 Wallace liked the change ; said it looked better spelled on 
 paper " Mary P. Leutcll." 
 
 " Write a Mary to my name, too," said Elida ; " then 
 you will has two 'ittle sweet springs," alluding to what 
 she had called the May-flowers. " I spects God isn't 
 very dood " she said, sadly, one day. 
 
 " What makes you think so ?" said Hester. 
 
 " 'Cause he died poor grandpa's mother, and let the 
 naughty man plant her in the ground. I saw um ; it is 
 all dark down there. Will she come up when it is warm, 
 auntie ? " 
 
 Hester explained the solemn mystery as well as she 
 could, and told her the story of the infant Jesus, which 
 called forth many loving expressions from the affection- 
 ate, impulsive child. 
 
 " But Fs happy 'nuff now, auntie. You tell God, so 
 he won't die me, arid send me up to heaven. I's your 
 'ittle Sunshine ; so you couldn't spare me a bit could 
 you, auntie ? " caressing her. 
 
 " I love to keep you, darling," said Hester, kissing 
 the soft, fair cheek. 
 
 Wallace took his departure for uncle Prank's in high 
 glee. 
 
 " It will be splendid to drive the cows and ride the 
 horse to plough, and rake hay, over to uncle Frank's 
 won't it, auntie ? I mean to study hard when I go to 
 school, so as to get into the same class with George next 
 winter."
 
 THE BURIAL. 1U 
 
 " I hope you will be a diligent scholar, and a good 
 boy, and enjoy yourself," said Hester. " Perhaps uncle 
 Edward will want you to study medicine with him when 
 you are old enough. Your uncle Horace, you remember, 
 was a doctor. I am pleased with your spending a year 
 at uncle Frank's. Your aunt Emma is a dear, kind 
 woman, and will treat you as she does her own children. 
 0, Wallace, try to please them all, and do not forget 
 that ' thou, God, seest me.' "
 
 172 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 MORGAN LENTELL, OR THE BROKEN WEB. THE ACCIDENT. 
 
 IT is only seven or eight miles from Mr. Manlie's to 
 Mrs. Mehitable Lentell's ; just a pleasant ride : let us go. 
 She is weaving most heroically, and talking to herself. 
 Listen. 
 
 " 0, hum I I wish I knew how about that ' herearter ' 
 that the priest preached about last Sunday. When Nabby 
 gits me there agin, she'll know it ; that's all. It's proper 
 warm to-day; " wiping the perspiration from the wrinkled 
 brow. " But if that sermon is true, I hain't seen the 
 wust on't yet. Hum, hum ! I wish I was as innocent 
 as I was when I stole that letter from the office, an' laid 
 awake all night to cut an' contrive how to deceive her. 
 'Pears to me the Evil One helped me. 0, well ! I've 
 had the wust eend o' the bargain. Wat's the use to 
 bother ? It's done," bringing her foot down forcibly, 
 " and can't be undone : an' I've suffered for it. I shall 
 git along well enough, I guess. I wish the parson " 
 
 " What are you grumbling about, old woman ? " mut- 
 tered Morgan, as he staggered into the room. " Can't I 
 help you weave ? Harmony couldn't, you know ; " and 
 he plunged his still brawny arm through the slender 
 threads, leaving a discouraging hole. 
 
 " There ! " he growled, " that is what you did to tho 
 beautiful web of my life ; only worse, a sight worse.
 
 MOKGAN LENTELL, OK THE BROKEN WEB. 173 
 
 I tell you, I've seen her to-day ; she sent you this ; " rais- 
 ing his hand to strike a blow. " 0, no," he stammered, 
 " that wouldn't be like her; " drawing the hand back ; 
 " no, it is I that give you this ; " striking her a blow on 
 the face. " That is to pay you for the blows I got when 
 a boy. Ah, well ! I never meant to strike a woman ; " 
 turning away. 
 
 " And she your mother," sighed Mrs. Mehitable. 
 " Morgan, I shall have you taken care on, if you ever 
 strike me agin." 
 
 " Well," said he, turning and looking her full in the 
 face, "isn't that what you pledged yourself to do, if I 
 would stop the lawsuit ? Ha, ha ! mother ! A precious 
 mother you proved yourself. Didn't you send me to 
 jail ? and murder the best and loveliest woman I ever 
 saw ? My God ! my God ! Drake and you, and Nab 
 and the devil, conspired against me," he said, in a frenzy 
 of passion. " The hottest place in is too good for any 
 of you ; or me either," he groaned, shrinking away to 
 his room. 
 
 Such scenes as this were not uncommon in the great 
 house on the hill. And yet, Morgan, true to former 
 habits, still performed a great deal of labor. But at 
 times a sort of insanity took possession of him ; then 
 he was a perfect terror to them all. He would not ven- 
 ture to the small house near the swamp, feeling sure it 
 was haunted. They are reaping as they have sown. 
 But we will leave them for the present, and call at uncle 
 Frank Lovering's. Things have changed, you will see, 
 since Christmas. 
 
 Are you surprised to find Patty Stearns there yet ? I 
 will tell you how it happened. She found it impossible
 
 174 HESTER STEOXG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 to get any one near by to take her. Some made one 
 excuse, some another. Some told her plainly why they 
 would not take her ; and finally Hester Strong, while there 
 spending the day, told her where her life had been a fail- 
 ure, and why she was not loved. She was quite indig- 
 nant at first. 
 
 " I think," said Hester, " that your circumstances early 
 in life had something to do with making you sad ; I may 
 say, soured your disposition. And then, as you grew 
 older, and your sick, irritable parents died, and you com- 
 menced teaching school, you made the mistake of think- 
 ing true dignity was a reserved, distant statcliness ; re- 
 ligion a sanctimonious austerity ; that your office entitled 
 you to great respect and consideration. You neglected 
 to cultivate the affections, and strive, by kindness and 
 conciliation, to win the esteem and confidence of those 
 you met, but laid claim to that which cannot be bought 
 or sold, except by paying in the same coin. ' Love begets 
 love,' it is said. Love is the all-conquering power, which 
 shall finally triumph over sin. God is love. You have 
 seemed to forget that, and dwell upon his justice and 
 severity, losing sight of his loving-kindness and tender 
 mercy. Others make the fatal mistake of trusting to his 
 merciful attributes, leaving justice and judgment out of 
 the question." 
 
 Hester said all this, and very much more, in a kind, 
 sympathizing way, which was irresistible. A tear glis- 
 tened in Miss Stearns' eye, as she replied, 
 
 " Perhaps you are right, Miss Strong. I have thought 
 a sight about what you said, last Christmas, of the charac- 
 ter and life of Christ. I think I have failed there. I 
 remember my parents always looked on the dark side of
 
 THE ACCIDENT. 175 
 
 ivcrything ; and they had an uncommon sight of trouble. 
 1 thought ivcrything they said or did was right. But we 
 arc poor creatures, all of us ; they might have been 
 wrong in that. I niver remember seeing them laugh in 
 my life. They said there was no mention of Christ's iver 
 laughing ; he wept often, fasted and prayed in the mid- 
 night air, and on the mountains." 
 
 "Yes," said Hester, "I know that is true. But it 
 was not for himself he wept, fasted, and prayed. The 
 burden of our guilt was laid upon him ; by his stripes wo 
 arc healed. His was not a selfish sorrow ; and the wise 
 man says, ' There is a time to laugh ' a time for every. 
 thing. I think we dishonor God by looking on the dark 
 side altogether. We must accept our blessings thank- 
 fully, and make the best of our misfortunes and trials ; 
 for if we are the children of God, all things shall work 
 together for our good." 
 
 This plain, Christian talk had a decided effect upon 
 Miss Patty, and prepared her, in a measure, for a new 
 affliction. George was appalled, one day soon after this, 
 to hear his mother call to his father, 
 
 " 0, dear ! what shall we do ? Miss Stearns has fallen, 
 and broken her other limb, I fear. She can't stir." 
 Several men came and assisted in getting her up, for she 
 was very large and heavy. Dr. Edward Lovering was 
 soon there, and, much to the consternation of the family, 
 ! -d that her hip was broken just below the joint. 
 He remarked to Mrs. Lovering, as he left, 
 
 " I think the old lady won't hold out long. She is in- 
 jured internally, and is so fleshy and aged, it will go 
 hard with her." 
 
 " 1'our thing," said Emma Lovering, "I am glad sho
 
 170 HESTER STEOXG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 is here. We will try to be patient with her. She had a 
 hard time when young-. I am told she was a faithful 
 daughter." 
 
 George and Fanny thought of their rash wishes, and 
 felt sorry. 
 
 " We don't know what we shall be, when we are 
 eighty," said Fanny, " with a lame leg and nobody to 
 love us. Let's be real kind to her now. She may live 
 a long time, but she can't ever sit up again, uncle Ed- 
 ward says." 
 
 "Well," said George, "I'll go for the men to help 
 move her ; it will be awful to lie there so, and go to the 
 'poticary shot,' as Willie calls it, for medicine." 
 
 "0, don't say anything funny now," said Fanny; 
 " only think what mother has got to go through, and 
 father too." 
 
 " 0, I know it," said George ; " I am doing what father 
 calls 'taking things by the smooth handle.' " 
 
 And so Miss Patty has been lying on that bed of pain 
 three months. She has changed in every respect ; com- 
 paratively speaking, she is patient and grateful. She is 
 apparently failing. Uncle Frank thinks she must have 
 been a Christian ; that the pure gold was there, only 
 crusted over by mistaken notions. 
 
 " I am really afraid I shall wear you all out," she says 
 frequently, " I am so heavy to lift, and need so much 
 done. Move me just a mite won't you? I suffer so. 
 Thank you ; you are all kind. The Lord will reward you. 
 There, I feel easier ; I ought to be patient ; our blessed 
 Master suffered more than mortal agony, and all for us. 
 0, I've been a poor servant, unfaithful and unworthy. If 
 I could live my life over, I would look more on the cheer- 
 ful side of things."
 
 TUE ACCIDENT. HT 
 
 And now the whole family, Wallace included, love to 
 wait on her, notwithstanding her faults, for she is trying 
 to imitate the Master. On our way back to the village, 
 we will step into grandpa Lovering's. Eumor whispers 
 that matrimony will be committed there soon. He tried 
 to persuade Martha Manlic to become the mistress of his 
 house, but she firmly, though gently, declined. 
 
 Charles Lovering was surprised when his father told 
 him, one day, many circumstances which had happened 
 in the family. 
 
 " I don't want to prejudice you against your wife," 
 said Mr. Lovering ; " she is a good wife and mother to 
 you and your children, an excellent housekeeper, a good 
 nurse, &c. ; but she worried your mother constantly by 
 suggesting that you did more than your share of the 
 work, that we used the most meat, &c. She objected to 
 my having the children and grandchildren at home so 
 often, said hard things about my doing so much for Har- 
 mony, and didn't* want the children here after their mother 
 died. I didn't know much about it when mother was 
 here to bear it, though I used to overhear some things. 
 She seems worried all the time, for fear I shalUdcfraud 
 or overreach you. But since I have had a housekeeper, 
 I have known all. Now, don't get angry, my son, but 
 hear me out. You know Judith don't want mo in her 
 family; she has told you so often. What am I to do ? I 
 can't get any one to stay while things remain as they 
 are. I don't want to distress you, or injure you in any 
 way ; but there must be a change." And the son knew 
 his father was in earnest, when he saw the good right 
 huiid cliiu-lu'd firmly in the thin gray locks. 
 12
 
 178 HESTER STKOXU'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 "Well, what do you propose to do, father?" he in- 
 quired. 
 
 " Do ? Why, what I always wanted to do, but you 
 thought it unnecessary labor divide the produce, pota- 
 toes, apples, pork, butter, all everything. I shall close 
 the doors between the two tenements. Understand me, 
 my son ; my heart is all right, my affection for your family 
 the same ; but I want to remove all reason for complaint. 
 I want peace. Judith will see her mistake some time. I 
 shan't hold any ill will towards her, and your children 
 are as my children. But I must keep a home for the rest 
 of them." 
 
 "I want you to, father. I don't think Judith means 
 half what she seems to." 
 
 "Perhaps not," said grandpa. "I shall Imild a new 
 wood shed at my end of the house. It will bo all ready 
 for some one of your children when I am gone. I am 
 conscious that no two families ought to be mixed up ; 
 they will be happier by themselves." 
 
 " I hope you will stay a long, long time, to use the 
 house, father," said Charles, fervently. " Judith is over- 
 anxiotisabout me and the children." 
 
 " That accounts for her mistake," said grandpa ; " wo 
 all have to live and learn. I am glad you have so good 
 a wife, and think, when we get fixed right, and begin all 
 new, we shall get along nicely." And they did. The 
 nature of the woman was not changed, only her surround- 
 ings were difFerent.
 
 MRS. GILES' SICKNESS. 179 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 MRS. GILES' SICKNESS. Miss ANN THROPEE, OR SYMPA- 
 THY WASTED. 
 
 HESTER is at Mr. Trueman's, spending a few days 
 with her adopted children. A stranger would suppose 
 her to be a real mother of about forty-five. She is in 
 earnest conversation with a member of the family not 
 yet introduced to the reader a modest, intelligent youth 
 of about sixteen, the eldest son by the first wife, and 
 own brother to Lucy. Reader, you are surprised to learn 
 that Mrs. Trueman is a step-mother. Listen, and you will 
 see that I am correct. 
 
 "Do you think you shall study theology? " said 
 Hester. 
 
 " Yes," was the earnest reply, " I desire to, if father 
 and mother think it best. I know that it is a high and 
 holy calling, and feel unworthy ; but the promise is, 
 ' Those that seek me early shall find me ; ' and if God is 
 with me, I can do all things even conquer my easily 
 besetting sins, and preach the glorious gospel accept- 
 ably." 
 
 " I am sure," said Hester, " your mother will not op- 
 pose you in that, for she has expressed the wish to me 
 that it might be so ; and your own mother would lu\ e 
 desired it above all things. You hardly remember her, 
 I suppose."
 
 180 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 " Yes, I remember her as a pleasant, beautiful dream. 
 I felt angry with God because they told me he had taken 
 her, until you came, and then you talked to me about 
 God and heaven, and how mother was sitting beside the 
 clear, bright fountain of life, listening to the music, and 
 eating the delicious fruit from the tree in the midst of 
 the garden, until I felt sorry for my anger, and you asked 
 God to forgive me." 
 
 " I remember it," said Hester ; " my heart ached for 
 you. I did not suppose it would be possible for any one 
 to fill that mother's place so faithfully as this dear mother 
 has. You have been truly blessed." 
 
 " I know it ; the boys at school think she is my own 
 mother : I know no difference. Did you ever know that 
 I date my conversion from that terrible sickness she had 
 after my little brothers died ? My dear friend, I owe 
 you a lasting debt of gratitude for saving my mother's 
 life, and calling my childish attention to serious things. 
 I had thought religion a gloomy subject, fit only for the 
 sick and aged ; but your cheerfulness removed that pre- 
 judice, and made me desire to be a Christian." 
 
 " Howard," said Mrs. Trueman, opening the door, 
 " I wish you would take the carriage and your sisters, 
 and drive over to Mr. Giles', and briug little Winnie over 
 to spend the day. She is such a sweet child, such a 
 trusting Christian, and we all love her so much, that I 
 want you to see her. Father says you can have the 
 horse two hours ; so give them all a drive, and get back 
 by dinner time." 
 
 " Yes, mother," said the boy, rising and bowing very 
 graciously, " I am happy to be your obedient servant in 
 such a mission."
 
 MKS. GILES' SICKNESS. 181 
 
 " "Well, do not forget to inquire for Mrs. Giles, if 
 Winnie cannot come. I fear the dear child is confining 
 herself too much to her aunt. She hasn't been to school 
 a day yet." 
 
 " No," said Hester ; " I was afraid it would be so. 
 I wish you would send for her to spend the night." 
 
 " By all means," was the reply. " Children, try to 
 persuade her to come prepared." 
 
 They found Winnie shut up in the nursery, singing 
 baby to sleep. 
 
 " Let's listen a moment," said Lucy ; " isn't it sweet ? 
 Why, it is a hymn ! I thought it must be some new 
 song." 
 
 "Yes, it is a hymn," said Howard "one of the 
 sweetest and best : I know it. 
 
 * Praise ye the Lord ! My heart shall join 
 In work so pleasant, so divine ; 
 My days of praise shall ne'er be past 
 While life, and thought, and being last.' 
 
 If Winnie can praise God, surely we, who are older 
 and so much more highly favored, ought to," he said. 
 By this time a cold, hard, stern-looking face appeared at 
 the door. 
 
 " Is Mrs. Giles at home ? " said Howard. 
 
 " Yes," was the blunt reply, " and like to be for the 
 present." 
 
 " Is she very sick ? " said Lucy. 
 
 " Yes, I s'pose so ; she thinks she is, an' the doctor 
 says so. 'He's her brother, you see." 
 
 "I am sorry she is sick," said Susie ; "we wanted 
 Winnie to go to our house to spend the day and
 
 182 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 night. Aunt Hester, and the baby, and Elida are there, 
 and we want her ever so much." 
 
 " You can't have her, I s'pose ; I've got my hands 
 full, doin' the work, without lookin' arter young ones." 
 Winnie sang on, unconscious of the great pleasure 
 which was being denied her. 
 
 " Can't I see her ? " said Lucy. 
 
 " S'pose so ; go into that room over there, if ye've a 
 mind to. Who be ye, at any rate ? " said she, looking at 
 the carriage. 
 
 " We are Mr. Trueman's children," said Howard, as 
 the girls stepped into the nursery. 
 
 " 0, I know ; you're a stuck-up family. Yer father's 
 wiser'n Holy Writ ; that says, ' Take a little wine for 
 yer stomach's sake ; ' he thinks it's wrong to use it, sick 
 or well, rain or shine. I'd like to have 'im driv to work, 
 out in the 'ot sun, hayin' or suthin'. Tell 'im so. Better 
 men 'an he is use it, an' are likely to, for all 'im. You're 
 the fust wife's boy, I s'pose. Wai, I pity ye, or any 
 other young one that's got a step-mother, or father either ; 
 that's a fact." 
 
 " You needn't pity me," said Howard ; " nobody ever 
 had a better mother than ours. I never should think 
 of her being a step-mother if people were not so fond of 
 telling me of it." 
 
 " That shows yer depravity," was the insulting reply. 
 " Ye think it is smart, do ye, to forgit the mother that 
 bore ye ? Ye'll see the day that ye'll feel yer loss ; an' 
 ye orter." 
 
 " I won't detain you," said Howard. " If you please, 
 I will sit on the piazza until my sisters return." 
 
 " One on um ain't yer sister ; she's yer half-sister ; 
 better call things by their name."
 
 MISS ANN TIIROPEE. 18,3 
 
 * 
 
 Howard walked away, instead of sitting down, won- 
 dering who their new acquaintance was, arid how she 
 could spend time to say such disagreeable things, if her 
 hands were so full. It occurred to him that Winnie 
 might, perhaps, take her little charge, and ride a while 
 with them. He walked up to the nursery door, and 
 tapped lightly. Susie opened it. 
 
 "Ask the little girl," he was about to say ; but as his 
 eye fell on Winnie, her occupation, position, and the 
 expression of her face -caused him to recall the words. 
 "She doesn't look like a child," he thought; " what a 
 sweet face ! Walter was right when he called her ' lit- 
 tle lady.' " Lucy introduced her brother with evident 
 satisfaction. 
 
 " I thought," he said, looking at his sister, "that per- 
 haps Miss Lcntell could take her little charge and ride 
 with us for an hour." Winnie blushed ; she had never 
 been called " Miss " Lentell before. 
 
 " Call me ' Winnie/ please," she stammered ; " I 
 want Lucy's and Susie's brother to call me ' Win- 
 nie.' " 
 
 " That I will do," said Howard, laughing ; " we ought 
 to be well acquainted, I hear so much of you at home, 
 and my letters have been so full of you of late." 
 
 " I feel acquainted," said Winnie " don't I ? " look- 
 ing at the girls. " They speak of you so often, I knew 
 just how you looked." 
 
 "Can't you go?" said Lucy. "I can take Unie in 
 my lap." 
 
 " I will ask auntie," said Winnie. She came back, in 
 a few moments, with baby's wrappings and a beaming face. 
 " She says I can go, and she thanks you very much
 
 184 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 for calling for me. She wants me to go home with 
 you." 
 
 " 0, I am so glad ! " said Susie ; " won't we have a 
 nice time ? " 
 
 "But I can't go," said Winnie, cheerfully ; " auntie is 
 so sick I couldn't leave her for anything. She can't sit up 
 a moment. I wish I could ; I would like to. I want to 
 sec all the folks. But if I could only see aunt Hester 
 just a moment," she said, looking timidly at Howard. 
 
 " You can," said he ; " we can drive there and back 
 
 twice in an hour. Yes, you shall go and stay half an 
 
 hour. But who was that woman that let us in ? I 
 
 should think you would want to go somewhere, and stay 
 
 there, if she treats you as she did us." 
 
 " 0, that was uncle Giles' half-sister, Miss Ann 
 Tlu-opee." 
 
 "Miss Ann Thropec," said Howard; "it sounds 
 familiar ; but I can't think I ever knew any one by that 
 name. How can you live with her ? Does your aunt 
 like her?" 
 
 " 0, we just submit to it ! " said Winnie. " I want 
 to see auntie Hester about some things. I am ready." 
 Baby Unie was delighted with the ride. 
 
 " Let us take the whole care of her," said Lucy, " and 
 you sit on the front seat with Howard ; it will rest you." 
 Winnie had a keen relish for the beautiful in nature. 
 She was drinking in fresh draughts of happiness vrith 
 every breath. 
 
 " The world never looked so pretty to me as it does 
 this summer," she said. " I seem to see Godwin every- 
 thing. I am not afraid of him now, Susie. You remem- 
 ber I used to be."
 
 MISS ANN THROPEE. 185 
 
 " Why are you not afraid of him ? " inquired Howard. 
 
 " 0, because I love him. He is my Father and my 
 Friend now. Why, have we got here so soon ? " 
 
 " Yes, and now you run in," said Lucy. " I will keep 
 baby out here. Don't let them eat you up, Winnie." 
 
 " 0, no danger ! " said Winnie, as she went hastily in, 
 and spent several precious moments answering questions 
 as to why the rest did not come in, and why she herself 
 could not stay longer. At the earliest moment when it 
 would be proper to do so, Winnie said, " I want to see 
 you alone, auntie, a little while." 
 
 " Mrs. Trueman will excuse us," said Hester, " and 
 we will step into the parlor." 
 
 "Yes," said Mrs. Trueman, "lam sorry we cannot 
 keep you, Winnie, but glad to see you give up so cheer- 
 fully, what I think would be a great pleasure to you, for 
 the comfort of your aunt." 
 
 " She calls me her comfort," said Winnie ; " and that 
 makes me happy, because mother used to call me so." 
 
 Winnie hesitated when they were alone. 
 
 " What is it, dear ? " said Hester ; " speak right out ; 
 you know time is passing." 
 
 " I know it," said Winnie ; " that is the reason I can't 
 think what to say." 
 
 " Who is taking care of your aunt ? " said Hester. 
 
 " Miss Ann," said Winnie, " that is one thing I wanted 
 tto tell you. Auntie will die if somebody don't do some- 
 ' thing." 
 
 " Do tell me, Winnie, if she is there," said Hester, 
 thoughtfully " Well, I am sorry. Is your uncle kind 
 to auntie, now she is sick ? " 
 
 " I don't call him so. He dor.'t go near her, and Miss
 
 186 HESTER STROJJG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 Ann don't, cither, only when she wants to say something 
 ugly. I make her bed when Unie is asleep, comb her 
 hair, and carry her a piece of bread and cup of tea, when 
 there are any. Auntie cries often, and says nobody cares 
 .for her but me, now. She wanted uncle Giles to send 
 for you, just for one day ; but he wouldn't." 
 
 " What did he say ? " 
 
 " Why, he said he wouldn't have you there with your 
 pauper young 1 ones. His sisters were enough sight better 
 than you. But, auntie, you must come right off. I am 
 afraid to stay there." 
 
 " Afraid of whom, Winnie ? Afraid of what, child ? " 
 
 " Well," said Winnie, " I don't really know. I feel so, 
 that is all. Uncle Mason is real good to me now ; buys 
 me candy and nuts." 
 
 Hester was silent for a moment, and then said, " I 
 suppose you must go now, dear ; take this note to 
 auntie." 
 
 " I thank you for taking me here," said Winnie. " I 
 feel rested; now I shall be able to cheer auntic - ; and I 
 have got a note for her from aunt Hester : that will 
 make her feel better." 
 
 She went immediately to her aunt's room, gave her 
 Hester's note, and told her about her ride. Let us peep 
 over her shoulder. 
 
 "Darling," wrote Hester, "cheer up; it is always 
 darkest just before day. I shall sec your father before I 
 sleep, or write to him. You must go home. Be quiet. 
 We will manage it all. Aunt Hester." 
 
 The sick one smiled languidly, and hid th letter in her 
 bosom. 
 
 " Winnie, how came you to think of going to Hester ? "
 
 MISS ANN THEOrEE. 
 
 she said. " You could not have done better, 
 indeed, my comforter, my good angel." 
 
 " 0, no, not that," said Winnie ; " angels are holy ; 
 am sinful." 
 
 " Well," said Elevia, " couldn't you leave baby wi 
 me, and make me a cup of tea ? I feel like eating now ; 
 things don't look so dark to me." 
 
 " I guess so," said Winnie. " Couldn't I boil you an 
 egg ? Grandma Manlie almost lived on them. I know 
 how ; let them boil three minutes and a half. It will 
 make you strong. And shan't I toast you a piece of 
 bread on a fork ? Aunt Hester says that is the best way," 
 said Winnie, with great animation. 
 
 " Why, yes," said Elevia ; " I think I should like to 
 have you. I want to get strong." 
 
 W T inuie met with various rebuffs while getting her 
 aunt's tea. 
 
 " I would like an egg," she said to Miss Ann. 
 
 " Well, what of it ? What do ye want of an egg ? " 
 
 " I want it for my aunt ; it will strengthen her." 
 
 " Strengthen a fiddlestick," was the ungracious reply. 
 
 " Well," said Winnie, " shall I take the key and get 
 one ? " 
 
 " No, not for her. She's as well able to come out and 
 eat as I am." 
 
 " She isn't," said Winnie, her indignation getting the 
 better of her discretion. " I want an egg." Winnie 
 dropped her head, put her middle finger in her mouth a 
 moment, and thought. 
 
 " ! " said she, and started for the barn. Uncle 
 Mason was at work there. She hurried past him to the 
 nest on the hay, caught up two eggs, and was returning, 
 when he met her in the path, saying,
 
 188 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 " What's your hurry, Winnie ? I want to see you. 
 Should you like a hat like Susie Trueman's ? " 
 
 " No/' said Winnie ; " it would cost too much. Mine 
 will do for me." She tried to pass him. 
 
 " Don't be in such a hurry, puss. I want you to have 
 one. You are far the prettier girl. Come, give me a 
 kiss ; you know you are our little girl now. Your aunt 
 wants me to treat you like a child." 
 
 " Please let me go," said Winnie, as she slipped past 
 him, and ran swiftly to the house. 
 
 " I shall have to be cautious," mused Mr. Giles, as he 
 looked after her. " She is a pretty little thing ; looks as 
 her aunt used to. Wasn't I proud of her ? She was so 
 brilliant and spicy, as well as handsome ! La ! a man 
 don't know what he's getting when he marries. She is 
 as wilted and faded now as a flower nipped by the frost ; 
 moves about like a ghost. I thought she loved me, and 
 would keep her place. She will find out who is master. 
 lEeigh-ho ! I wish Lev would get well, or "
 
 WINNIE'S THOUGIITFULNESS. 189 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 WINNIE'S THOUGHTFULNESS. SUNSHINE AND HER FREAK. 
 
 WINNIE found her aunt quite weary and faint from the 
 care of Unie. The desire to eat had ceased. 
 
 " I have been gone too long/ 7 said Winnie. " I had 
 to go to the barn for eggs, and the water wouldn't boil ; 
 now I'm afraid you can't eat." 
 
 "I will try in a moment," said Elevia. "It looks 
 nice." 
 
 " I will set it here, and take baby out," said Winnie. 
 
 Elevia read Hester's note again, took courage, ate a 
 little, and then lay back wearily, closing her cyfcs. 
 
 " I shall never, never be happy again in this world," 
 she thought. " It cannot be. These bitter memories 
 will follow me to the grave. This terrible disappoint- 
 ment has cast a gloom upon my spirits which religion, I 
 think, cannot wholly dissipate. My God, lead me in the 
 way everlasting, so that death may bring the relief I seek 
 in vain on earth." A new thought took possession of 
 her. " Will he let me keep the baby ? He don't love 
 it ; thinks it more plague than profit. But won't he take 
 it away to tantalize me ? 0, if he should take it, Miss 
 Ann or Mrs. Wiley would have it." She covered her 
 face, and wept. " There," said she, " I forget what 
 Hester wrote." She read again, "'Keep quiet. We 
 will in:iii;i''-e it all.' Of COttTSe Hester will think of
 
 190 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 that the first thing. I wonder what Mrs. Payson will 
 think of me, and of my coming home. They say she is 
 a kind-hearted woman. If mother, my dear, lost mother, 
 were there, what a difference it would make ! There, I 
 must stop thinking, and try to sleep. for a place to 
 rest ! Little Winnie, I wish I could learn to submit 
 and trust, as you have," she said, as the thoughtful child 
 came in to see if she was sleeping. 
 
 " 0, you will," said she, " when you are better. Aunt 
 Hester says folks can't be hopeful in some kinds of sick- 
 ness. Unie is asleep, and I want to comb your hair, as 
 I did mamma's when she was sick ; it used to get her 
 her to sleep in a minute, sometimes." 
 
 Winnie combed gently for a while, here and there, 
 until the invalid slept. Then she crept back to the 
 cradle to keep baby sleeping. Thus several days passed. 
 Miss Ann fretted, scolded, and mourned in turn. 
 
 Hester had a long, confidential talk with Mrs. True- 
 man while the children were absent, which resulted in 
 another drive for Iloward, in company with aunt Hester 
 and Sunshine. 
 
 " 0, dear me, hum ! " said the little thing. " I hasn't 
 rided a bit on a carriage wis a cloth over it this long 
 time ago " (meaning a covered carriage). " Don't you 
 'member the sligh, and the bills, and the horse we rided 
 on when wo went to Kistmas ? 0, funny, funny ! Don't 
 you 'member the plums, and old Santa Dicolas, that 
 brought the candy ? I some naughty ; I spects he won't 
 gis me any more." 
 
 Iloward laughed, and aunt Hester smiled. 
 
 " Who used to say ' Hum,' darling ? " she inquired. 
 
 "Why, don't you 'member?" said the child with
 
 SUNSHINE AND HER FKEAK. 191 
 
 evident surprise. " It was my other grandmother, up 
 to where I used to live. She weaved and spun, and said 
 ' Hum.' " 
 
 Hester smiled. 
 
 " Yes, I remember her ; what was her name ? " 
 
 " I guess I don't know," said the child. 
 
 " What is your father's name ? " said Howard. 
 
 " 0, his name be Morgan," said she ; but no amount 
 of coaxing could induce her to repeat her grandmother's 
 name. 
 
 " Well, what is your name ? " asked Howard. 
 
 " I's Mary Elida, I is." 
 
 " Well, haven't you another name ? " said Howard. 
 
 " I dess not, only I's auntie's 'ittle Sunshine." 
 
 Hester was at a loss what to think. It was possible 
 the volatile child had forgotten, having heard the name 
 so seldom, and perhaps not at all for a year ; so she 
 resolved to wait for further developments. "She took 
 Mrs. Payson aside, and gave her a fair, condensed state- 
 ment of facts concerning Mason Giles' character, of 
 Elevia's state of health, and who was housekeeper. 
 
 " Don't tell me any more," said Mrs. Payson ; " I 
 know that woman. She hates the very ground she 
 walks on. Why don't Mr. Levering bring her home ijn- 
 mediately ? I hope I don't stand in the way. I want 
 the children and grandchildren to feel just as much at 
 home here as ever. If I am not suited, why, I can leave 
 that's all. I dislike to see a man neglect his children, 
 just because his wife is dead." 
 
 " Well," said Hester, " it hasn't been so bad long. 
 The right lime hadn't come. Elcvia wished to try in 
 every |M>ssilile \v.i\- f<> please him, and win back the love 
 she imagined she had lost."
 
 192 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 " Love ! I don't believe he ever loved a living soul, 
 except himself, in his life," said the ardent Mrs. Payson. 
 She could submit to injury, ay, insult and wrong- herself, 
 but had no patience when others were oppressed and 
 abused. 
 
 " Mr. Lovering isn't the man," said Hester, "to neg- 
 lect one of his children. I call him a pattern father, and 
 a pattern man. I wish there were more like him." 
 
 " So do I," said the widow, enthusiastically ; " I 
 know him ; there isn't a. better man. He's down in the 
 field. Just you let me blow this horn, and he'll be up 
 in no time. I'm so indignant at what you've told me 
 that I can't wait for him to go after her." 
 
 " How does Judith get along since things were 
 straightened out ? " inquired Hester. 
 
 " 0, nicely. She takes every convenient opportunity 
 to tell me what a fine woman Mrs. Lovering was ; how 
 prudent, &c. ; how much they thought of each other, and 
 so on ; intimating that I am rather extravagant." 
 
 Mr. Lovering listened to Hester's story, Mrs. Payson 
 putting in a word now and then, until Hester mentioned 
 that Mr. Giles' half sister, Miss Ann Thropee, was house- 
 keeper, and Winnie nurse both for baby and its sick 
 mother. 
 
 " Zounds ! " said the good man, starting up and 
 plunging the strong right hand into the gray locks. 
 " If that don't beat the horned mice and the leather- 
 billed chickens ! There, I shall make a fool of myself," 
 said he, calming down. " But candidly, I had rather 
 have a bear, robbed of her whelps, round, than her ; and 
 Mason isn't much better behind the scenes. Mrs. Pay- 
 son, can you make room for her here ? "
 
 SUNSHINE AND HER FKEAK. 193 
 
 " Make room for her ? If I can't," was the reply, 
 "it is time for me to leave that's all." 
 
 " Well, Hester," said he, " the thing must be done, 
 but not hastily or shabbily ; it will take some time to 
 manage it. The poor child may die first. Can't you go 
 over and spend the day to-morrow ? Carry her some 
 oranges, and what she needs, and put some of your 
 hopefulness into her, and relieve Winnie, while I call a 
 council of war, and see what can be done." 
 
 "Yes," said Hester, "I'll do it. I'll leave Mary 
 Fostina with Martha and grandpa. Did you know we 
 had changed her name ? " 
 
 " No," was the reply ; " but I am glad of it. I never 
 liked the name. But what will you do with Elida ? 
 Won't you stay with grandpa ? " said he. 
 
 " No, dcss not," was the reply. " I spects auntie 
 wants me all along." 
 
 " I will leave her at Mr. Trueman's," said Hester. 
 
 On their way back, Hester spoke purposely of Mrs. 
 Lentell, of Morgan Lentell. 
 
 " And this is my little Elida Lentell," she said, speak- 
 ing to Howard. 
 
 " 0, is that your name ? " said he, looking at the child. 
 
 " No, dess not," was the reply. " I's 'ittlo Sunshine 
 Strong, I is. Auntie's 'ittle girl. Santa Dicolas, he 
 brought me a pony and a dolly. When I come again 
 I'll show it to you." 
 
 " But what is your grandmother's name the one 
 that weaves ? " 
 
 " I dcss it is Hum," said the child, again changing 
 the subject. 
 
 " No," said Hester, " that isn't it. Now tell me what 
 13
 
 194 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 it is, dear, or I can't allow you to be my Sunshine, or my 
 darling ; and perhaps I shall have to send you to live 
 with Mrs. Lentcll." 
 
 " Hers name isn't like mine, I spects ; hers is a bad, 
 naughty name isn't it ? " 
 
 " 0, well, if little Elida doesn't love auntie, I must 
 send her back to grandma Lentell's to live," said Hester. 
 
 " 0, I don't want to go to grandmother Lentell's," 
 she said, flinging her arms lovingly around Hester. " I 
 can say it Miss Kittybill Hum Lentell. There, auntie, 
 isn't I your 'ittle Sunshine now ? I spects I is." 
 
 Hester was silent. 
 
 "Auntie, isn't I your darling?" pleaded the child. 
 " I is dood, I is," tears starting into her eyes. 
 
 "Yes," said Hester, "you shall be my darling Sun- 
 shine if you will tell auntie why you were unwilling to 
 speak the name ' Lentell ' when I hear your prayers to- 
 night. But you have found several new words lately 
 ' dess ' and ' spect ' : where did you learn them ? " 
 
 " 0, my Walter say so," said the child.
 
 HESTER'S VISIT TO MRS. GILES. 195 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 HESTER'S VISIT TO MRS. GILES. LITTLE JOHNNIE'S DEATH. 
 REMOVAL OF MRS. GILES TO HER FATHER'S HOUSE. 
 
 HESTER took an early start next morning. Martha and 
 grandpa were delighted to receive their Mary again. 
 
 "Father is very uneasy without her," said Martha. 
 " I shan't consent to her going away again. The little 
 precious birdie girl ! You see I am learning to talk 
 ' babified.' I used to think it was silly." Baby seemed 
 pleased to get home. She toddled up to grandpa's door, 
 and pounded with her tiny fist, saying, " Ope e do 
 ope-e-do." 
 
 Grandpa started with joyful alacrity. 
 
 " Birdie bird," he murmured, " did you fly to grandpa 
 did you ? Well, well, truly glad am I." 
 
 " Su, su ! " said baby, holding up her dress, and 
 pointing at the red slippers which Susie Trueman had 
 given her. Hester and Martha looked on, and laughed. 
 
 " I am glad," said Martha, " that father's sight 
 and hearing are so much better he enjoys seeing and 
 hearing baby so well ! " 
 
 " 0, prett}', pretty ! " said grandpa. " Come in, lit- 
 tle Mary my Mary, come and sit on grandpa's knee, 
 and tell him where away ye went, little Mary." 
 
 "'Ide-e-'ide," said the child 'ide-'ide away," 
 as she pointed at the cradle, and smiled one of those
 
 196 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 wondrous smiles. She smoothed the thin white locks, 
 stroked the wrinkled cheek, and manifested her joy and 
 affection in every possible way. 
 
 " That is truly an interesting sight," said Hester. 
 " 0, if we could get their pictures just as they sit now ! 
 the two extremes of life meeting and blending in such 
 trusting love : it is beautiful ! Why, Martha, these 
 children are a blessing to us all." 
 
 " Indeed they are," was the reply. " When is Mr. 
 Trueman going to call for you ? " 
 
 " 0, as soon as he has seen to the opening of the 
 store ! He is a noble, generous man I " 
 
 " Yes," said Martha ; " but I think he is a little too 
 fast about temperance. Because some people abuse a 
 good thing, it does not prove it to be bad, you know. 
 Now father couldn't get along without his eleven-o'clock 
 dram, I am sure." 
 
 "Perhaps not," said Hester; "habit has become 
 second nature. But I don't think Adam took a dram 
 daily : I never have. I was born a teetotaler. I am 
 just as well off better, I think. The apostle says, ' If 
 meat cause my brother to offend, I will eat no meat 
 while the world standeth.' I say Amen to that, and 
 apply it to all kinds of liquors." 
 
 " Don't you think it is good for a medicine ? " said 
 Martha. 
 
 " It may have been," said Hester, "when it was pure 
 and unadulterated ; so is meat good ; but if it cause 
 my brother to offend, it must be sacrificed : that is all. 
 0, Martha, it pains me to see so much stubborn resist- 
 ance, I call it, to the cause of temperance and humanity, 
 among good, well-meaning people. It is owing to igno-
 
 HESTER'S VISIT TO MRS. GILES. 191 
 
 ranee of the tremendous evils of drinking. I have been 
 situated so that I could see the sin, misery, poverty, and 
 cruelty it brings in its train. You have not seen much 
 of it. I tell you it is the curse of the age. Think of 
 Morgan, of Mrs. Gray, and a host of others. 0, there 
 he comes ; success to the prohibitory law. If I were a 
 man I'd fight to extinguish the evil by burning every 
 still-house in the land. 0, haven't you a loaf of your 
 light, sweet bread, that I can take to Elevia ? " 
 
 " Yes, indeed, and a glass of jelly, too. Isn't there 
 something else I can send her ? " 
 
 " No, I can't think of anything. Mr. Trueman has 
 some oranges for her. But suppose I should want to 
 stay all night ? " 
 
 "You could, and longer, if needed; we can get along 
 nicely. Mary isn't a bit of trouble." 
 
 " Good by ; send for me, if you need me." 
 
 " I have been having a terrible dressing down," said 
 Mr. Trueman, as they rode along. " Mr. Wiley thinks I 
 am ' meaner than dirt,' to use his expression." 
 
 " No bones broken, I hope," said Hester, smiling. 
 " Dirt isn't mean, unless it comes in contact with some- 
 thing mean. What is the matter with him ? Can't he 
 get rum enough at Stillman's ? " 
 
 " Yes, but he don't want to go there ! He says it is 
 too bad to compel respectable people to go there 
 for it." 
 
 " Let them go without it, then ; there is no compulsion 
 about it, I suppose," said Hester, indignantly. 
 
 " That is what I tried to make him believe ; but he 
 thinks it is one of the essentials of life ; said he would 
 us soon go without bread as spirits of some kind. He
 
 198 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 says he will have some for haying, by fair means or foul. 
 He wished me anything but success, threatened to in- 
 jure my trade all he could, &c. I confess my business 
 has diminished since I stopped selling it, and commenced 
 agitating this question, and that, too, in a quarter where 
 I least expected it. There are not a .half dozen real 
 temperance men in the village, A great many call them- 
 selves so, but they are not. I don't understand it. 
 Why, I thought the Loverings would stand by me." 
 
 " Haven't they ? " said Hester. " Well, there is no 
 accounting for the inconsistencies of good people. But 
 they will come out right ; all such folks need is more 
 light. Habit is strong. There has never been a drunk- 
 ard in the family until Harmony's husband. They don't 
 realize what a common curse it is. But you won't lose 
 anything, Mr. Trueman, in the long run ; there must be 
 pioneers in every good cause. God is on your side. 
 Soon every house will have its drunkard, every home 
 its broken hearts ; for drunkenness is increasing fear- 
 fully. Then the evils of drinking will be appreciated." 
 
 " When shall I come for you ? " Mr. Trueman in- 
 quired, as he left her at the door. 
 
 " 0, I won't trouble you to do that ! " was the reply. 
 " Mr. Giles will be perfectly willing to carry me home, 
 I think." Winnie was feeling discouraged and sad 
 when Hester opened the door and stepped in. 
 
 " Why, aunt Hester ! Where did you come from ? I 
 do believe God sent you. Auntie is worse, and baby is 
 sick. 0, dear ! I haven't slept all night." 
 
 " Of course he did," said Hester, cheerfully. " Now 
 you shall rest a little. I will go in and see Elevia, and 
 then you must go to bed." When Hester opened the
 
 HESTEH'S VISIT TO MES. GILES. 199 
 
 door, Elovia reached out her arms, much as little Unie 
 was in the habit of doing', to her, and began to cry. She 
 could not speak. 
 
 " There," said Hester, cheerfully, "you may cry just 
 five minutes by the clock, and then wipe up, for I have 
 a bundle of news for you as big as Bunyan's pack." 
 Hester went on talking, quietly stroking Elevia's hair, 
 and before the five minutes expired she was listening 
 attentively, only sobbing now and then. 
 
 " I am so thankful you have come," she said ; "poor 
 baby is sick, and Winnie is worn out. They don't help 
 the child a mite." 
 
 " We can always find something to be thankful for if 
 we look sharp," said Hester. " Here is cause number 
 two," taking out the oranges ; "number three," holding 
 up the jelly ; " number four," displaying the bread. 
 
 " That looks like aunt Martha," said Elevia, smiling. 
 " Give the largest orange to Winnie, right off; and can't 
 you bring the cradle in here, and let the child go to 
 bed ? " 
 
 " Yes, indeed," said Hester ; " I am glad your trouble 
 doesn't make you selfish." 
 
 " I am selfish enough," s|io sighed, " and wicked 
 as need be ; but Winnie isso self-sacrificing I She never 
 thinks of self." Hester cut up one of the best-looking- 
 oranges, quietly gave it to Elevia, and took one to Win- 
 nie, who was suffering sadly for sleep. 
 
 " There, Winnie, now go to bed, darling, and sleep ; 
 that is a good girl." 
 
 " Kiss me, auntie," said Winnie ; " I feel more like my 
 other self to-day, I miss mother so. Do Christians ever 
 feel sad, auntie ? "
 
 200 HESTEK STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 " 0, yes, dear ; you know we are only pilgrims and 
 strangers here. The spirit may be willing when the flesh 
 is weak. You are very tired ; but remember this, dear 
 God is the same yesterday, to-day, and forever ; and 
 Jesus is always watching over his disciples, in sunshine 
 and in shade. Believe this, Winnie, and you will have 
 a calm, restful feeling even when under a cloud." 
 
 Hester told Elevia of her visit to her father's, and its 
 results. 
 
 " Mrs. Payson is all eagerness to get you away. You 
 will have to get used to her bustling ways. She is good 
 and kind, but not so quiet as I should like." 
 
 " Then she will not think me a burden ? " 
 
 " No, not in the least. I am more afraid she will 
 kill you with kindness than any other way." 
 
 " 0, if mother were there," whispered Elevia, "this 
 would not be such a terrible cross. I long to go, but I 
 tremble when I think what the result may be. Will he 
 see his fault and do better ? or will he hate me worse 
 than ever ? These questions have caused me many 
 sleepless nights. If I should never return here, will he 
 take my baby from me ? lie neglects it sadly now I am 
 sick ; and Miss Ann hates young ones, she says." 
 
 " I know it is a trying case," said Hester, "and no 
 one can advise you. Ask counsel of God. He will help 
 you decide. If you 'think you can endure the yoke, be a 
 benefit to your husband, and bring up your child right, 
 here you ought to stay. But if your health and spirits 
 utterly fail, as they now have, then you can do no good 
 by staying, and self-preservation demands that you go. 
 But let us leave this subject ; wait and see what your 
 father and brothers think. Mr. Gray is going to be mar-
 
 HESTER'S VISIT TO MRS. GILES. 201 
 
 ried," said Hester ; " there is quite a romance about it. 
 lie marries a lady he was partial to when young, but 
 was too late ; she was engaged to a man at the West. 
 She married, and went out there. They had not heard 
 from each other since until last April, when they met in 
 the stage ; she returning a rich widow, with one son, to 
 her friends in this region ; he going to the same town to 
 offer his hand to a maiden lady, a distant connection. 
 They recognized each other, and a spark of the old 
 flame seemed to have lingered in one corner of Mr. 
 G ray's heart. He told the sad story of his life, and then 
 listened to hers, which had been bright until the death 
 of her husband. And then and there, in the stage, amid 
 the whirl and rattle, he offered his hand a second time, 
 and was accepted. 'When you offered yourself before/ 
 said the widow, ' you were well off, I was poor. Things 
 have been reversed. You are poor, you say ; but I have 
 enough for comfort.' ; 
 
 " That was a strange coincidence wasn't it ?" said 
 Elevia, forgetting her trouble. " How are they getting 
 along ? Has Lottie kept house all this time ? " 
 
 " No," said Hester ; " the oldest girl, who worked in a 
 factory in the city, learned a dress-maker's trade, and 
 came home to keep house, so that Lottie could go to 
 school ; and Lucy Trueman is giving her lessons in 
 music. Lottie has a splendid voice. Ilattio isn't more 
 than eighteen ; has been in the factory a long time. 
 Poor child ! she has had a hard time ; but her prospects 
 brighten. I believe they buried two little ones between 
 her and Lottie." 
 
 " Jack Stillrnan is at the Reform School, I suppose," 
 said Elevia. " I pity his mother. How docs she ap- 
 pear ? As proud as ever ? "
 
 202 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 " No ; she is a changed woman. She has not professed 
 religion, but we all think she is a Christian. She has 
 done nobly in Mr. Gray's case ; bought back, by personal 
 sacrifice, nearly all the furniture that poor, deluded Helen 
 mortgaged, and by kindness quite won the hearts of the 
 whole family. The girls go to her as they would to 
 a mother. She has joined our new Temperance Society, 
 and is very active, doing all she can to induce her hus- 
 band to stop selling liquor. But she will never succeed 
 never ; at least, I think so. He isn't far from a 
 drunkard now." 
 
 " I should think intemperance was on the increase," 
 said Elevia; " we didn't use to hear much said about it. 
 Mr. Giles and Mr. Wiley lay it all to the temperance 
 folks. They think it is impossible to get along without 
 it in haying time, raisings, &c." 
 
 " It is on the increase," said Hester ; " evil is self- 
 propagating, as well as good, only more so. Let them 
 lay it to the temperance folks, if they will. They know 
 better, as well as I do. It is the increase of intemperance 
 that has stirred up thinking temperance people to do 
 something. Our young men are falling victims to it, 
 their families to them. What a long nap Unie is hav- 
 ing ! and you must rest now." 
 
 " She didn't sleep much last night," said Elevia ; 
 " you always carry rest wherever you go." 
 
 " Don't flatter me," said Hester, smiling ; " give all 
 the praise to God. I want you to try Martha's bread 
 when you have rested a little. I suppose I must beard 
 the lion, and make you a cup of tea." 
 
 "She won't do anything but growl," said Elevia; 
 " she tries to make herself appear worse than she really
 
 HESTER'S VISIT TO MRS. GILES. 203 
 
 is. It is unpleasant to have her here. She and Mason 
 don't agree about anything. She seems to be afraid 
 that she shall do a kind act. I verily believe she would 
 be as much ashamed to speak a kind word, or do a lov- 
 ing- deed, as you would not to." 
 
 "Quite likely," said Hester; "I have seen such 
 folks." 
 
 " Good morning, Miss Thropee." 
 
 " Mornin'," was the gruff reply. 
 
 " How is your health ? " said Hester. 
 
 " Good 'nuff, I s'posc ; it ought to be in this 'ouse." 
 
 " There is a good deal to do, I know," said Hester. 
 " Elevia is all worn out doing the work and being broken 
 of her rest with the babe." 
 
 " Fudge ! She didn't 'ave anybody in bed to wait on." 
 
 " No," said Hester ; "it is a good deal of care and 
 labor to look after sick persons as they should be. I 
 thought you must be all tired out, and so I came over 
 to take care of baby and Elevia a day or two, and relieve 
 you of that trouble." 
 
 Miss Ann was cornered. She grumbled over some- 
 thing which Hester did not stop to understand. 
 
 " I'll trouble you to show me where the tea and sugar 
 are," said Hester. " Elevia must take a good deal of 
 nourishment." 
 
 " In there, I s'pose ; find it, an' ye will. When I lay 
 in bed I don't eat." 
 
 "Well," said Hester, "doctor says she has a low 
 nervous fever, and that baby must be weaned, and she 
 have great care, or she will go in a decline. Where did 
 vou say the sugar was ? " 
 
 " I didn't say," laughed Miss Ann. " I had to hunt 
 for it, an' you kin."
 
 204 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 " 0, well, I'll find it ; never mind." 
 
 Hester went to a closet, found a very little in a bowl, 
 made her tea, and hurried from the room. 
 
 " Bread in there somewhere," said Miss Ann. 
 
 " I don't wish any," said ITester. " I brought some." 
 She did not stop to hear the reply. 
 
 " 0, yes, ye thought mine warn't good 'nuff, I s'pose. 
 I kin make as good bread as you kin." 
 
 Mr. Giles said, " Whew I " when he found Hester 
 there, but was as polite as ever when they met ; "was 
 glad she could come," &c. 
 
 " She loves good living," said he. " Ann, starve her 
 out." 
 
 " Fll fix 'er," was the reply. 
 
 " I can stand it a day or two," thought Hester, as she 
 saw the starved-looking table. Dr. Edward took Mr. 
 Giles aside, told him that his wife was in danger (which 
 was really true), and that she must have the best of care, 
 or she would die. 
 
 " She will be sick a long time at best," said he ; 
 " perhaps you had better call in another physician ; I 
 should prefer to have you." 
 
 " 0, I don't wish to do that ; but it seems to me, if 
 Elevia would arouse herself, she might get up sooner." 
 
 " But, my dear man," said the doctor, " that is im- 
 possible ; we must get her up. This nervous prostra- 
 tion is the worst disease in the world : there is nothing 
 to build upon. By the way, sometimes change of scene 
 will work wonders rouse up the dormant energies, and 
 set things right. If they would take her home a few 
 weeks, she might rally. Don't you think they would ? " 
 he inquired.
 
 HESTEIl'S VISIT TO SIRS. GILES. 205 
 
 " I don't know, I am sure," said Mr. Giles. He was 
 thinking what a saving it would be what a fuss it was 
 to have a sick wife. 
 
 " I think father would like to have her come ; she 
 would be welcome there. I'll speak to him, and let you 
 know in a day or two. She is growing weaker, and 
 will not be able to ride there soon." 
 
 " Well," said Mr. Giles, " I'd like to have you ask 
 him. As you say, change may do her good. Ann will 
 have to stay, at all events, for the present, and Winnie 
 can go to school." 
 
 " 0," said the doctor, indifferently, " Winnie will 
 kave to go with her, until Unie gets acquainted with the 
 rest of them." 
 
 " Yes, I suppose she will have to go," said Mr. Giles. 
 
 " Perhaps," said the doctor, " I had better see 
 father to-night : time is precious. If she goes, Hes- 
 ter must stay and fix her off, and perhaps she could 
 take Elevia in her strong arms. I'll see." He went in. 
 
 " Now keep quiet, sister," he said. " You mustn't 
 even think. Leave the future in the hands of God ; 
 now you have enough to do to get well. Hester, pack her 
 trunk ; you know sick folks need a good many things." 
 
 " I understand," was the arch reply. Hester found 
 it difficult to keep her patient quiet. 
 
 " 0, auntie," she said, " death would be preferable 
 to life under such circumstances. I should not be afraid 
 to die. I believe my sins are forgiven, and yet I hardly 
 dare to live. I hope in Christ, but I cannot rejoice. 
 What is the reason ? Perhaps I ought to be willing to 
 stay with Mason, and bear it all patiently. If I could 
 know my duty, I would try to do it."
 
 206 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 " I remember the dying words of dear Harmony," 
 said Hester, " after receiving her husband's penitent let- 
 ter. ' One cannot die just when they please, or live 
 either. I have longed to die.' But then she was will- 
 ing that God's will should be done. She was calmly, 
 serenely hpapy, resting like a weary infant in its moth- 
 er's bosom. 0, it was a blessed privilege to be with her! 
 She was a perfect illustration of the power of faith. I 
 want you, my dear Elevia, to find rest in trusting God. 
 Go home, recover your health, and wait. God, in his 
 providence, will lead you in the path of duty. ' Cast 
 your care upon him, for he careth for you.' I will go 
 out for a walk with Unie. Winnie is having a line 
 sleep." 
 
 " I am glad," said Elevia. " Poor child, she has had 
 a hard experience here ! I hope something better will 
 turn up for her." 
 
 " I hope so," was the reply ; " now you try to sleep, 
 dear." Hester stooped, kissed the pale check, held 
 Unie down for a kiss, and left her. 
 
 " I wonder what makes Hester know just what peo- 
 ple want," thought the invalid, " and just what to say 
 I was feeling worried with baby's noise. Hester is a 
 living epistle, known and read of all men. I never heard 
 the most sceptical doubt her sincerity. Mr. Giles thinks 
 she is a Christian, if there is such a tiling." Hester 
 reflected upon Elcvia's remarks concerning Winnie's hard 
 experience, and thought sadly of the experience of her 
 whole life. 
 
 " Who has a better right to her than I have ? " she 
 mused. " Her dying mother confided her to me ; and 
 when Elevia is able to take care of the baby, she shall 
 come home, and go to school."
 
 HESTER'S VISIT TO MRS. GILES. 207 
 
 "0, 0, ! " cried En vena Wiley, as she ran towards 
 Mr. Giles' " 0, dear!" 
 
 " What is the matter? " said Hester, going hastily to 
 overtake her, and prevent her entering the house in such 
 excitement. " What has happened ? " 
 
 "0, ! " was all Envena could say, 'mid the wild- 
 est kind of weeping. Hester hurried on, and over- 
 took her, laid her hand on her shoulder, and said, 
 kindly, 
 
 "What is the matter, dear? Don't go in. Elevia 
 is very sick : tell me what it is." 
 
 " Dead, doad," sobbed Envena ; " Johnnie is dead : 
 they found him by the jug, dead." Ann was as much 
 terrified and as wild as Envena, when informed. 
 
 " I can't bring 'im to," she cried. " What did you 
 come to me for ? Lordy, Lordy ! if there is a decent 
 child, it dies, or something." 
 
 " You had better go over, Miss Ann," said Hester, 
 " and try to comfort the poor mother. Perhaps he is in 
 a fainting fit, and may be brought to life." Envena 
 caught at that idea, said, " Come," and she herself 
 started for home. 
 
 Hester awoke Winnie, left baby in her care, and went 
 to see if she could assist in any way. She found the 
 little one, not quite four years old, still lying on the 
 ground beside the jug, the hot, scorching rays of the 
 sun fulling on the cold, dead face ; the mowers standing 
 around in silent bewilderment, too much intoxicated to 
 fully realize the meaning of what they saw ; the dis- 
 tracted parents weeping bitterly. 0, what a sight I 
 Hester understood it all at a glance. 
 
 There stood the destroyer, with the sugar, glasses,
 
 HESTEE STKONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 and all, on a waiter ; and there stood the human accom- 
 plices, mute with amazement and consternation. Her 
 first impulse was to raise the dear remains in her arms, 
 and remove it from the beastly, brutalizing scene to a 
 place of security ; but it occurred to her that it was 
 customary to hold an inquest in such cases ; so she knelt 
 there by the dead, and, holding her apron so as to pro- 
 tect the face, begged one of the men to go to the house 
 for *au umbrella. She inquired if the doctor and a jus- 
 tice had been sent for. " No," was the reply. 
 
 " Then go for them immediately/' she said ; " life 
 may not be entirely extinct." 
 
 Ah, it might not have been had the proper efforts 
 been made when the child was first discovered. It was 
 deep, deep intoxication then ; the hot, scorching sun, 
 falling directly upon him, had finished the work ; and now 
 he sleeps in death. The demon of the still has received 
 another victim offered at midday. 
 
 " God of justice ! " murmured Hester, as, kneeling 
 on the green, fresh grass, she chafed the little soft baby 
 hand, and removed the flaxen curls from the smooth, 
 white forehead, " will the accursed fire never, never be 
 extinguished, except by the blood and tears of little chil- 
 dren ? How long, Lord, "how long ? When wilt thou 
 arise in thy might to avenge the wrongs of the inno- 
 cent, and punish the guilty ? " 
 
 And the answer came back slowly and distinctly to 
 her inner consciousness, 
 
 " When my servants do my bidding, when my soldiers 
 are brave, courageous, and self-sacrificing, then shall my 
 kingdom be established, and the kingdom of Satan, with 
 all its terrible engines of destruction, shall fall with a
 
 HESTER'S VISIT TO MRS. GILES. 209 
 
 mighty crash ; and I, Jehovah, will reign, and send 
 peace on earth ! " 
 
 They buried him ; and the evening dews fell, like tear- 
 drops wrung from Nature, over the untimely dead, slain 
 by her own munificent gift to man, converted by his 
 cupidity and ingenuity into a consuming fire. Let all 
 who oppose the Temperance Reform go look at the little 
 grave ! Ay, at thousands of little graves, scattered all 
 around them, made by the accursed influence of intox- 
 icating drinks ! Let them look into the homes desecrated 
 and desolated by intemperance. Let them look into the 
 helpless, hopeless face of the drunkard's wife, and her 
 prematurely old children, and oppose the passage of any 
 law that may send relief, if they dare, while God is look- 
 ing on. 
 
 The love of gain, the pleadings of a vitiated appe- 
 tite, may impel them to oppose any and every effort of 
 the friends of humanity. But there will be a day of 
 reckoning which they cannot evade. God, the Judge, 
 will hold them to a strict account. 
 
 Little Johnnie's death caused quite an excitement in 
 the village ; all thought the liquor had been drugged. 
 Mr. Stillman was accused of the sin. Mrs. Stillman was 
 distressed beyond measure, while he still persisted that 
 it was a lawful calling. 
 
 " I feel very thankful," said Mr. Trueman to his 
 family, " that I have been brought to see the evil of 
 rum-selling, and left it off. I once thought it was right. 
 Did you know, Linnie, that my father used to sell a hogs- 
 head per week, out in this store ? Why, our minister 
 used to buy ten gallons at a time." 
 14
 
 210 IIESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 " Is it possible ? " was the reply. " Why, people talk 
 as if there was more drunkenness now than ever." 
 
 "Yes, I know it," said Mr. Trueman ; "they talk so, 
 and sometimes I speak so ; but is it true, considering tho 
 increase of population ? I think a little reflection will 
 show it to be false ; at. least, as far as the quantity is 
 concerned, I think the quality is poorer and more poi- 
 sonous. I don't think a clergyman can be found, now, 
 who would use ardent spirits for a beverage. Why, it 
 isn't a great while since the bells were rung in one of 
 our cities, at eleven and four o'clock, for the workmen to 
 take a drink of liquor, while no bells called them to their 
 meals. I admit that there may be more real drunken- 
 ness and crime ; mind, I say there may be ; but it is 
 owing to the drugging of liquors. Population is increas- 
 ing, and people come in contact with each other more 
 frequently. We know more of each other's affairs. Once 
 a man got drunk, beat his wife and children, and went 
 to bed : that was the end of it. Now, if a man beats 
 his wife in a drunken fit, it is known and talked of. 
 Opportunities for crime arc greater, the denser the pop- 
 ulation. At all events, the cause has begun to be agi- 
 tated ; drinkers and rum-sellers are distressed ; that is 
 encouraging. Mr. Wiley talked very hard to mo tlie 
 morning before Johnnie died, because I had taken the 
 course I have ; threatened to ruin my trade, and make 
 a poor man of me yet." 
 
 " He can't can Ire ? " said Susie. 
 
 "I don't know," said Mr. Trueman; "I must leave 
 the result of my actions with our heavenly Father. I 
 have done what I thought was right. If nominally tem- 
 perance people would come to a knowledge of the truth, 
 ail would be well."
 
 HESTER'S VISIT TO MKS. GILES. 211 
 
 " Never fear, husband," said Mrs. Trueraan ; " I had 
 rather be poor than bo made rich at such a sacrifice of 
 principle. We are all well ; and, with a clear conscience 
 on that point, we shall never want for the necessaries of 
 life." 
 
 Elevia cast a long 1 , lingering glance at the fine new house, 
 with its capacious barn, its neat flower-garden, as she left, 
 and, lying back in Hester's loving arms, thought of the 
 bright hopes that had been blasted, of the sorrow, dis- 
 appointment, and pain, which came to her, instead of the 
 peace and happiness she had anticipated. All was dark, 
 dark in the future of this life. Mr. Giles was very happy 
 and talkative. Dr. Edward rode beside them with Win- 
 nie and the baby. To him, to Hester, and to the whole 
 family, this was a more trying event even than Harmony's 
 death. Now they realized the truth of the old saying, 
 " Living trouble is worse than dead trouble." 
 
 Several times the little company stopped to rest the 
 invalid, who seemed more feeble than they supposed. 
 The doctor was shocked at the absence of all affection 
 or tender solicitude on the part of Mr. Giles. He was 
 in haste to get back and attend to his hay. 
 
 " Come, Elevia," he said, briskly, " hurry up and get 
 rested." 
 
 " Tell him to drive on," whispered Elevia ; " I can 
 bear it." And so on they went, and deposited the 
 almost fainting daughter in her father's arms a wreck 
 of her former self. 
 
 " She don't look so fresh, and fair, and happy as she 
 did when I gave her to you, Mr. Giles," said Mr. Lover- 
 ing. "Hut" and ho emphasized the word "but 
 we will try to bring back the smiles and roses, and sec
 
 212 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 to it that the frost don't kill them a second time won't 
 we, Mr. Giles ? " 
 
 " Why, yes, che has faded amazingly since she was 
 married. I've noticed it, but I can't understand it : 
 every wish has been gratified. We men don't fade so." 
 
 " That depends upon circumstances," said Mr. Lover- 
 ing, thoughtfully. " But all women do not fade and 
 become sickly as soon as they go to housekeeping. My 
 Mary didn't, the doctor's wife hasn't, and many others 
 I could mention. I think it was not intended that it 
 should be so. Women are sensitive plants ; they need 
 kind, tender treatment, Mr. Giles ; but it pays ; I tell 
 you nothing pays better." Mr. Giles stepped just in- 
 side the door, where lEester and Mrs. Payson were 
 engaged in reviving Elevia, who had fainted from fatigue 
 and the mental suffering she had endured, and said, in 
 a careless manner, 
 
 " Hurry up, Elevia, and get well ; for Ann isn't a 
 very good housekeeper. Good by." Mr. Lovering 
 plunged his hand into his hair, when he was gone, and 
 said, 
 
 '' Zounds, Edward, he hasn't the least bit of affection 
 for her. She is the same as a slave ; I see that. She 
 shan't trouble him in the future." 
 
 " She will trouble no one long," said the doctor, 
 eadly, " unless she rallies soon."
 
 THE STRUGGLE AND THE TRIUMPH. 213 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 THE STRUGGLE AND THE TRIUMPH. THE COUNCIL. MR. 
 GILES' VISIT. 
 
 " 0, IT is hard ! " sighed Elevia, as the united efforts 
 of Mrs. Payson and Hester restored her to consciousness 
 again. " I am just a burden to you all ; he does not 
 care for me ; no, no ! And I thought I was going so 
 easily ; it is hard to come back just to suffer and be a 
 burden to you all." 
 
 " Now don't feel so," said the widow, bustling about 
 with her eyes full of tears ; " you are just no burden at 
 all to me. Why, I really think I shall be better content- 
 ed, now that I have you to wait upon ; so don't worry." 
 
 " But baby will be such a care I She is teething, and 
 you can't think how worrisome she is." 
 
 " I guess I know all about that ; my youngest child 
 had a hard time getting its teeth ; she cried day and 
 night. Don't let that trouble you don't. Come, the 
 front chamber is all ready ; you will be away from the 
 noise. I'll do the best I can for you. It won't be like 
 having mother, I know ; but I've been a mother, and I've 
 lost a mother ; so I know something how you feel. There, 
 don't try to walk ; you haven't come to yet," she 
 said, as Elevia made the attempt, and sank back in an 
 almost helpless condition. " Hester and I can make a 
 chair, school-girl fashion, and carry you. There, now !
 
 214 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 isn't the bed soft ? I stirred and shook it with all my 
 might, for I knew you would be tired after your ride. 
 Now you stay with her, Hester, you understand her 
 ways best, and I will see to the baby." 
 
 " Winnie will tell you just how to prepare her food," 
 whispered the invalid. 
 
 " 0, yes," was the reply ; " I will let Winnie fix her 
 food ; so rest easy about that. And if you want any 
 namable thing in this house, you can have it, I know, 
 just the same as ever. I hope you will get a nap and 
 feel better soon." 
 
 Elevia lay quite still for some time after Mrs. Payson 
 left the room. Hester took a seat by the bedside, and 
 waited ; now and then she stroked the soft but somewhat 
 faded hair. 
 
 " I think I shall like her," said Elevia, suddenly, "and 
 her quick, bustling way won't trouble me ; it will divert 
 my mind." 
 
 " You are right, my child," said Hester, relieved from 
 anxiety on that account ; " she is the very soul of sin- 
 cerity and kindness. She and your mother were firm 
 friends, but as different as could be in many respects. 
 Now try to rest, dear." 
 
 Another pause. Hester hoped she was sleeping. 
 
 " It is hard, 0, so hard ! " moaned Elevja. " Life was 
 so bright ! I thought he loved me ; our home was pleas- 
 ant ; we had everything I could wish. That makes the 
 cup more bitter, auntie, and yet I must drink it all." 
 
 " Remember, dear," said Hester very softly, for her 
 heart was full, " remember it is a Father's hand that holds 
 the cup. Remember the words of the dear elder Brother, 
 in his untold agony in the garden ' Not my will, but 
 thine, be done.' Dear Elevia, can you say thus ? "
 
 THE STRUGGLE AND THE TRIUMPH. 215 
 
 " Xot yet, not yet, auntie ; my heart is hard. I can't 
 be willing to have all my beautiful dreams of happiness 
 fade out in such terrible darkness. I can't say it. 0, I 
 am not a Christian, after all ! Pray, auntie, pray ; I can't 
 say it ; I can't feel it. I am not a Christian all my 
 beautiful things are laid waste I am so unhappy ! I 
 must die ; I feel sure of it ; I must die and after death 
 is the judgment and I have no Advocate with the 
 Father no hope ! I shall go from misery to misery 
 more awful than tongue can tell, and I deserve it all. 
 When in health and prosperity, I scorned the message of 
 mercy, and now I am dying without repentance, without 
 pardon, without peace." 
 
 Hester laid her hand soothingly upon the hot, throbbing 
 head, and begged her to be quiet, while she should com- 
 mend her case to God. 
 
 " 0, yes, pray, auntie," she said ; " pray that, if it be 
 possible, this cu'p pass from me." 
 
 " If it may not," said Hester, " what then ? " 
 
 " That I may be willing to drink it, even to the very 
 dregs." 
 
 Hester was no stranger at the mercy-seat ; the lan- 
 guage of prayer was familiar and pleasant to her. Her 
 armor was always bright. Every want, every fear, every 
 desire of the poor suffering one was spread out before 
 the Lord and his Anointed, fervently and effectually. 
 Word by word the sick one followed her, slowly and 
 painfully, as if the words sprang from her own burdened 
 soul; and when Hester said, "Amen," she added rever- 
 ently, " Not my will, Lord, not my will, but thine, be 
 done." 
 
 All was silent again for a few moments, and then Elevia 
 remarked,
 
 216 HESTER STEONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 " That was a terrible struggle, auntie, but it is over 
 for the present, at least, thank God. I thought I loved 
 Jesus before, and that my sins were forgiven for his sake ; 
 but while coming here, I realized how entirely my husband 
 was alienated from me, and also that my days were num- 
 bered ; and my heart rebelled. 0, the bitterness of that 
 hour, auntie ! may it never, never return ! " 
 
 " I think it will not, dear ; I trust your faith will grow 
 brighter and brighter, until it overcomes the world. Per- 
 haps, if I sing to you some of the beautiful hymns your 
 mother and Harmony loved so well, you will drop asleep." 
 
 " Do, auntie, for I am so very tired ; take my hand in 
 yours, please." 
 
 Hester sang, " My faith looks up to Thee," &c., till the 
 weary sufferer fell into a quiet sleep. She was startled 
 as she noticed the change that had taken place in the 
 last few hours. All their efforts to save her would be in 
 vain, she feared. About her soul she felt quite easy. 
 She had noticed a change in her for some time past. Her 
 great darkness she attributed to bodily weakness, and 
 the mental suffering through which she had just passed. 
 
 " If it is God's will to take her," she said to Mr. 
 Lovering, " we must not hold her back. Under the cir- 
 cumstances, we ought to be willing, and more than willing, 
 for only a life of sorrow and bitter disappointment is 
 before her, if she lives. Mason Giles will never change 
 much, I fear. Elcvia was right when she said he did not 
 care for her ; she is only a slave to him. Some women 
 would have sunk down to the position quietly, uncom- 
 plainingly, and died, scarcely knowing what was the mat- 
 ter with them. But Elevia could not ; she has struggled 
 ineffectually to keep her true position, simply because she
 
 THE STRUGGLE AN& THE TRIUMPH. 21 7 
 
 had a cold, calculating, selfish being to deal with. It 
 must be servitude and slavish submission, or open war- 
 fare. I think Elevia never fully realized, until yesterday, 
 how utterly hopeless is the task of gaining and retaining 
 her husband's love, and occupying the place of a wife. 
 My feelings were never so outraged in my life as they 
 were by his unfeeling conduct yesterday. I feared she 
 would die in my arms, she was so pale : and yet he never 
 showed the least concern, to say nothing of affection. 
 When I begged him to stop and let her rest, his manner 
 was as brisk as if he were going on a pleasure excursion." 
 
 " Yes, I noticed that," said Mr. Lovering ; " it pained 
 me severely, and I resolved that she should never return 
 to his house, unless she greatly desired it. For if he 
 had the least bit of affection for her, surely her suffering 
 look yesterday would have called it forth." 
 
 " Yes, that is so," said Hester. " I think that was a 
 bitter, bitter disappointment to the poor child. 0, how 
 many times the dear girl has said to me in the last few 
 months, ' If he only loved me, I could put up with his 
 faults. I wouldn't mind his locking up everything and 
 doling it out to me as he would to a wasteful, thieving 
 domestic, too mean to be trusted : that might be a fool- 
 ish whim. I wouldn't mind his fretting, if he fretted at 
 others as well as me,' she says often." 
 
 " Hester," said Mr. Lovering, sternly, " do you pre- 
 tend to say that Mason has treated his wife in that way ? 
 What ! locked up the provisions, sugar and tea, and all, 
 and doled them out to her in driblets ? Zounds ! I 
 never heard the beat of that ! Why didn't you tell mo 
 before ? " he said, plunging the right hand into the inno- 
 cent gray locks.
 
 218 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 " Simply because she requested me not to," was the 
 calm reply. " She wished to keep it a secret, hoping 
 that he might sec his mistakes, and rectify them." 
 
 " Niggardly man ! " he groaned ; " and at the same 
 time spending so much for outside show. Now I under- 
 stand why Elevia seemed to fail in cooking, and why she 
 always looked so distressed and vexed when Mason ral- 
 lied her about the scantiness of her provision for the 
 table." After a short pause he continued, sadly, " Hes- 
 ter, I need Mary at such times as this. I need the ten- 
 der, mournful glance of her eye, when passion, my old 
 enemy, begins to rise. I was a terribly passionate man 
 once ; quick as a flash. I thought I had conquered a 
 peace. You know the reason why I used to pull my own 
 hair," he said, smiling sadly ; " it was to keep my tongue 
 still. But lately my tongue runs first, and the pulling 
 comes afterwards, as a punishment. Heigh-ho ! I fear I 
 shall get to be as ungovernable as ever, if some loving 
 hand don't hold me in a little." 
 
 " Your Christian hope, Mr. Lovering, ought to be as 
 an anchor to you, both sure and steadfast. You have 
 been sadly tried recently." 
 
 " That is no excuse," was the quick reply. " I know 
 where to look for strength and help ; I'll go there. I 
 am ashamed of myself." 
 
 A consultation was held over Elcvia's case, soon after 
 she reached her father's house, and nearly all hope of her 
 recovery was relinquished. Hester and Martha went 
 back and forth, like ministering angels. Judith, even, 
 lent a willing hand, arid made herself very useful, and 
 won the gratitude of the whole family by her skilful 
 kindness. Hester proposed to take Unie home, saying,
 
 THE COIL.VCTL. 219 
 
 " Martha and I can take care of her as well as not, 
 and Winnie can stay to sit with you, she is such a quiet 
 little thing." 
 
 Elevia found it difficult to express her satisfaction. 
 
 " Auntie," she said, "tell me the secret. "How is it 
 that you always know what I want without asking ? I 
 can do nothing more for my precious babe ; I have 
 given her entirely up. 0, ii was hard to do it ! Her 
 noise disturbs me. I want to be very quiet while I live ; 
 and with you and Martha I know baby will be faithfully 
 tended. Yes, I should like that ; but," she continued, 
 with a saddened look, " what a labor, what a task for 
 you 1 Do hire some one to help you." 
 
 " Rest easy, dear," said Hester ; " I will do so if 
 necessary." 
 
 '" When I am gone," said the sick one, "father will 
 be her guardian ; that is a comfort. And he says, if Mrs. 
 Payson consents, he shall adopt her, and give her my 
 name. And Winnie, dear little Winnie, you will keep 
 her, Hester. Father has promised to pay for educating 
 her out of Unie's property. What a mercy that father 
 was so firm about securing my property to me ! I was 
 vexed and annoyed at the time, but now I see the wis- 
 dom of it." 
 
 Mr. Giles was informed of Elcvia's danger, but seemed 
 almost angry. 
 
 "I expected it," was his reply. "Ann said she 
 would die if she went there. I'll have her brought 
 home, and see if we can't get her up. Exertion, Mr. 
 ring, is what she needs. If she had more energy," 
 ho mused, "I think she might get well. She gave up 
 too soon."
 
 220 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 Mr. Levering remained silent till quite composed, and 
 then said, 
 
 " Mr. Giles, I think my daughter will never leave my 
 house while she lives." 
 
 " Won't she, though ? " said Mr. Giles, thrown off his 
 guard. " We'll see, we'll see. My wife won't do as I 
 say will she ? Who will hinder ? " 
 
 " I will," was the firm reply; "I will, or the strong 
 arm of the law will. She is unable to be moved for any 
 cause now, and you cannot touch her. Come over and 
 look at her ; perhaps you will be sorry for treating her 
 so cruelly when you see her." 
 
 Mr. Giles started nervously. 
 
 " I tell you, Mr. Levering, I have always treated her 
 well ; I have nothing to be sorry for, only that " He 
 hesitated. 
 
 " Only what, Mr. Giles ? " 
 
 " She always said she was well," he said, evasively. 
 " That is the way a man gets cheated. I wish I never 
 had consented to her going home. How is the child ? " 
 
 " Better," said Mr. Lovering, holding on to the gray 
 locks firmly " better." 
 
 " Well, I can't say I am glad to hear that. If the 
 mother dies, it would be better if the child could follow 
 her. She would be better off, you see." 
 
 He was thinking of money. 
 
 "Perhaps so; but I am selfish enough to want it to 
 live. Come over and look at your injured, suffering 
 wife." 
 
 " I don't understand you ; you speak in riddles," was 
 the sharp reply. " If my wife suffers, it isn't my fault, 
 but her own. I tell you, Mr. Lovering, she has a good
 
 MR. GILES' VISIT. 221 
 
 stock of the old family pride and stubbornness. A wife 
 shouldn't set up to have her own way, as she has. The 
 Scriptures say, ' Wives, submit yourselves " 
 
 " I must go/ 7 said Mr. Lovering, in a low, tremulous 
 voice. " Some other time we will talk about this." 
 
 Mr. Giles came over Sabbath eve, and seemed some- 
 what surprised at the change in his wife, and sobered by 
 her deathly look. 
 
 " Mason," said Elevia, holding up her pale, attenuated 
 arm, "you see that I am going. I may have been a 
 poor wife to you, but my heart was yours ; and now, as 
 I stand so near the portals of death, I can say that I 
 have always tried to please you. If I have failed, for- 
 give me ; it was not intentional." 
 
 She turned her large/lustrous eyes full on his face, 
 and waited for a reply. Mr. Giles was not expecting 
 this ; he was somewhat softened. 
 
 " Perhaps you have," he said, hurriedly ; "we all 
 make mistakes. I think you have resisted my will rather 
 too much ; but I will forgive you. I hope I have a for- 
 giving spirit. You are willing to be moved home, I dare 
 say ; it is more proper for you to die in your own house. 
 Of course you will make me the guardian of our child's 
 property ; no one can do better for it than I can, I am 
 sure. Ann and I have been missing her, and you, too, 
 Levie. We want you both at home." 
 
 The pale face flushed deeply, and she glanced hurried- 
 ly from her father^to Mrs. Payson, who started up arid 
 stood between Mr. Giles and the bed. 
 
 "Why, Mr. Giles," she stammered, "you arc why, 
 I don't know exactly what I am going to say. You see 
 phc only just lived to get here that was all; Hester
 
 222 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 thought she wouldn't but she couldn't live to get 
 back, noways at all. She is weaker, a great deal weaker, 
 now. And about the baby it is real troublesome. 
 Miss Ann would get tired to death of it, it worries so. 
 Why, it takes Hester and Martha half their time to keep 
 it quiet." 
 
 " 0, as to that," said Mr. Giles, " it is good for chil 
 dren to cry. But, if you please, Mrs. Payson, Levie can 
 speak for herself. What do you say, Levie ? " he said, 
 cheerfully. " Shall I come for you the first fair day ? 
 Your being here is making a good deal of talk, sister 
 Wiley tells me." 
 
 "0, Mason," she said, pleadingly, "look at me, and 
 tell me if you think I am able. I am almost through. 
 Let me die here, please." 
 
 Mr. Lovering saw that she was becoming very much 
 distressed, and he could endure it no longer. 
 
 " Mr. Giles," he said, striving to speak calmly, " I 
 wish to see you alone." He motioned Mrs. Payson to 
 stay and comfort Elevia. 
 
 "You shall do just as you have a mind to, and that 
 child shan't be carried to Miss Ann never ; so rest 
 easy, dear. It was too bad for him to talk in that way. 
 How I wish Hester was here this blessed moment ! 
 She would know just what to say to you, and one of her 
 prayers would make you as quiet as a lamb. There, let 
 me read some of them hymns, or something out of the 
 Bible shall I?" Elevia made no reply. " If you 
 just want me to keep still, tell me so. 0, I know ; I'll 
 call your little comforter." 
 
 Elevia nodded. 
 
 " I won't be gone a second," she said, darting out of
 
 MR. GILES' VISIT. 223 
 
 \ 
 
 the room, saying to herself, " I wish I was her mother 
 this blessed night, I do. Poor child ! I could say some 
 things then that I can't now. If he ever asks me to 
 marry him again, I will, if it's the day after the funeral. 
 I should like to see them get that child then. Why, 
 why ! who would a thought it of him ! the old brute, he 
 hasn't a mite of feeling. Winnie/ 7 she said, " Mr. Giles 
 has worried your aunt's life almost out of her. She's 
 got one of them terrible nervous turns. Kun, child, and 
 see if you can quiet her. I can't." 
 
 Winnie saw at a glance that silent sympathy was the 
 best medicine. She kissed her tenderly, and passed her 
 small, soft hand gently over the throbbing temples. 
 
 " That is nice," whispered the sufferer, closing her 
 eyes wearily ; " it rests me." An hour passed, and still 
 sleep came not. Patiently Winnie kept her post. 
 " Can't you sing, Winnie ? Perhaps that will stop my 
 thinking ; I feel terribly. I can't keep still," she said, 
 tossing her arms. 
 
 " Uncle .Edward is in the parlor ; let me call him," 
 said Winnie. " He will give you something to take." 
 
 11 Not while Mason stays here," was the reply. " I 
 know what they are talking about, and it distresses me." 
 
 Winnie came back in a moment, saying, 
 
 " He is going now, auntie, and uncle is coming to re- 
 lieve you." 
 
 All that passed in the parlor we may not tell ; but Mr. 
 Giles threw off all disguise, and said many hard, unfeel- 
 ing things ; declared ho had been cheated and deceived 
 about the property. He wouldn't have married her if he 
 h;i.(l known. 
 
 " Didn't you tell mo, Mr. Giles," said Mr. Levering,
 
 224 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 " when you asked me for my daughter, that you didn't 
 want the property ? that you had enough to support 
 her, and wished she was poor, that you might prove your 
 devotion to her ? You can't deny it. Is that a speci- 
 men of your sincerity, Mr. Giles ? " 
 
 " 0, well, I didn't care for that paltry thousand or 
 two ; if she had been poor it would have been all the 
 same. But then a man wants his just rights that's all 
 I've had the trouble of her, and it's just that I should have 
 the control of the child, and what little property there is. 
 Who has a better right to control a child than a father, I 
 should like to know ? I'll see what the law says about 
 this thing. You've rather got the whip-row of me ; 
 but we'll see." And he strode away. 
 
 " Unmasked," said Dr. Edward. 
 
 Mr. Giles called at Mr. Manlie's to inquire after Unie ; 
 was very pleasant and sympathetic ; spoke of " poor 
 Elevia " with much apparent feeling, and said nothing of 
 what had been transpiring. Unie was shy of him at 
 first ; but he showed her his watch, gave her his knife, 
 &c., until by and by she sat composedly on his knee, 
 when his manner changed. 
 
 " Miss Marilie," he said, in a commanding tone, 
 "bring the child's cloak; I am going to give her an 
 airing. And you may as well pick up her clothes gener- 
 ally ; she will remain at my house for the present." 
 
 The family were astonished ; Hester remonstrated ; 
 Martha pleaded ; but all in vain. 
 
 " It will kill the baby," said Hester. " She is a 
 stranger to you, and Ann hates her, and you know it. 
 Come, let us keep her ; it won't cost you anything. 
 Elevia will be distressed beyond measure."
 
 MR. GILES' VISIT. 225 
 
 " I can't help that," was the cold reply. " I have a 
 rig-lit to my child. She has got to die, at any rate ; it 
 won't make much difference ; and the baby would be 
 better off if it should die too." 
 
 " I think so," said Hester ; " but I don't want her to 
 cry herself to death. Come to auntie, darling." 
 
 The child reached out her arms. 
 
 " No, no," said Mr. Giles ; " little girl, you must go 
 with me whether they get 3 r our things or not." lie 
 started for the carriage ; baby commenced crying piteous- 
 ly. " 0, that won't frighten me," he remarked, looking 
 from one to another ; " I've heard that before." 
 
 " If you wish to prove to the world that you are a 
 monster, wh} r , take her," said Hester. " Wait, and I 
 will get her things." 
 
 By this time all the family were in tears. Little Mary 
 opened her large eyes in utter amazement. 
 
 " Ganpa kie, artic kie, Mamie kie," she kept saying. 
 
 Little Elida stamped her tiny foot, saying, 
 
 " Naught} 7 man to carry off my little baby-dirl. Gis 
 her to auntie, naughty man." 
 
 " God reward you," said Hester, as she fastened the 
 little cloak and unclasped the tiny hands that clung to her. 
 
 " God punitsh you," said the gentle Martha, " for this 
 and the other " She broke down and wept aloud. 
 
 When Elida saw him drive off, she exclaimed, 
 
 " Now, I'll tell God 'bout him ; " and she too com- 
 menced crying. 
 
 II ester hastened to her own room. Grandpa and 
 baby tried to comfort Martha. 
 
 " Don't kie, urtie, don't kie. Mamie kie." 
 
 lu a bhort time Hester appeared all ready for a walk. 
 15
 
 lijij 1JKSTKU STKONG'S LIFE Wo::iv. 
 
 " Martha,," said she, " I shall follow her. Mind that 
 Elovia don't know anything of this. If she wishes to 
 see baby, why, make some excuse till I bring 1 her back. 
 iKiu't tell it to anybody. If Mr. Lovering comes, charge 
 hiia to keep it from Winnie and Elcvia. I'll bring her 
 back," she said in a husky voice. 
 
 Mrs. Pay son was very uneasy after Mr. Giles left. 
 
 " Mr. Levering," said she, " it is my humble opinion 
 that he will go straight to Mr. Manlie's and take the 
 child, and I wish you would take the doctor's horse and 
 head him off. Now, come, do ; it will be awful if they 
 get her." 
 
 " 0, 110 danger of that," was the reply ; " it would be 
 too much trouble. What would he do that for ? lie 
 can't get the property." 
 
 " Perhaps not," was the quick reply; "but couldn't 
 he torment your life out of you ? and couldn't he let that 
 child cry its eyes out of its head ? What would he care ? 
 And if the child worries itself to death, wouldn't the 
 property go to him ? " 
 
 " It would if steps were not taken to prevent it," was 
 the reply. 
 
 "Well, then," said the earnest little woman, "take 
 all the steps that are necessary do ; but don't let him 
 lay his hands on that child. Didn't he say it was good 
 for the blessed little things to cry, and die, too ? You 
 heard him." 
 
 Mr. Lovering looked thoughtful. 
 
 " If he is going to take her to-night, I am too late ; 
 his horse is a fast one. I can't get there in season ; but 
 1 will go over early iu the morning, and put them on 
 their ^uard."
 
 ABOUT THE BABY. 227 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 ABOUT THE BABY. TROUBLE UPON TROUBLE. THE 
 PROPOSAL. 
 
 EARLY the next morning, Mr. Lovering rode up to Mr. 
 Manlie's door. Somehow, his heart misgave him. He 
 dreaded to inquire for baby, who had learned to reach 
 out its little arms, as it had never done to its father. 
 
 Martha burst into tears as soon as she saw him. 
 
 " What is it ? " said he, dropping into the nearest 
 chair. " Where are Hester and baby ? " 
 
 Tlje old emphatic " Zounds ! " sprang to his lips 
 when Martha informed him ; but he resolutely held it 
 back, thinking how the word had troubled Mary. He 
 simply said, 
 
 " Ileigh-ho I This will be a terrible blow to Elevia. 
 Martha, that man is a villain. I'll ride over and see if 
 I can't bring them back." 
 
 " You had better not," said Martha ; " Hester will 
 get along best alone. Does Elevia know you were Com- 
 ing here ? " 
 
 " No, Mrs. Pay son knows it. She wanted mo to 
 come last night ; she thought he would take it ; I didn't. 
 I promised her I'd ride over and see." 
 
 " Well, don't let Elevia know a word about it ; don't 
 tell her you have been here: and if she wants t<>
 
 228 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 her, make one excuse after another, and put her off. 
 Just the moment she gets back with her, we will let you 
 know." 
 
 " I'll do as you say about that," said Mr. Levering ; 
 " but I'll see Mr. Leonard to-day, and know what the 
 law says about these things." 
 
 He returned home disheartened and anxious. 
 
 " Then he has taken her," said Mrs. Payson, as soon 
 as he rode up to the door. 
 
 " Yes," was the reply, " and that isn't the worst of 
 it ; I don't know how in the world we shall get her 
 again. Hester followed her ; what she intends doing I 
 don't know. But Elevia and Winnie must know nothing 
 of this ; so you had better not speak of it to any one. 
 If he loved the child, or had almost anybody to take 
 care of her, except Ann, it would be different." 
 
 He leaned his head on the table in a desponding mood. 
 Mrs. Payson fluttered about like a wounded bird. 
 
 " Now, if I had only married him," she thought, " I 
 should know what to say to comfort him. Well, I won't 
 refuse again if he ever asks me." 
 
 Tears came into her eyes ; she couldn't bear to see 
 him feel so. She sat down at the other end of the table, 
 leaned her elbow on it, her head on her hand, instead of 
 going to his side, as her heart prompted her. 
 
 " You have had trouble upon trouble, Mr. Lovering," 
 Baid she, " and you bear it as a Christian should. I 
 could not bear it half so well." 
 
 " I don't know about that," was the reply. " I am 
 sure your life has been full of self-denying, Christian love 
 ever since I knew you. My esteem for you has been 
 greatly strengthened recently, and my children are learn-
 
 THE PROPOSAL. 229 
 
 ing to respect and love you ; so your objections to be- 
 coming my wife are growing less and less. Perhaps, 
 when Elevia took your hand and placed it in mine last 
 night, you did not fully understand her meaning. I did. 
 She had expressed a wish to me that you might become 
 my wife, and be a mother to her child before she leaves 
 me. They have gone one at a time Mary and Har- 
 mony ; and Elevia is almost through, poor child," he 
 groaned. " It will be a comfort to her to know that you 
 will help me train her child. You can do so as my house- 
 keeper, but better, much better, as my wife. I know I 
 am asking a great deal of you," he said, sadly ; " per- 
 haps I am selfish ; but I need you, Mrs. Payson ; yes, I 
 need you as much as the baby. I believe I am getting 
 to be a child myself, or I should have waited until it was 
 all over before speaking to you again on this subject." 
 
 He bowed his head, and wept. 
 
 " No wonder if you are weak and childish," said Mrs. 
 Payson, herself weeping, "after all you have suffered; 
 and then to think how you have been kept awake nights ; 
 it is enough to kill you. On some accounts I would 
 rather wait until it is all over ; but if it will be any com- 
 fort to you or her, why, it is no matter. I have been 
 sorry ever since she came home that I didn't marry you 
 before ; and if I could have seen all the trouble that was 
 coming upon you, why, I would in a moment. But I 
 was afraid I wasn't just the one to please the children, 
 and then I shouldn't have been happy. But now, if I 
 can be any help to you, take me ; I am a poor creature 
 at best. I hope you won't be sorry, and I feel sure I 
 shan't." 
 
 " I thank you a thousand times, Mrs. Payson," he
 
 230 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 said, rising and taking her hand. " Come, lot us cheer 
 up, and go and tell Levie about it. The dear child is 
 feeling anxious lest the additional care may drive you 
 away from me." 
 
 " 0, she needn't, poor darling. I shall stay all the 
 sooner. I shouldn't be fit to live if I could leave you 
 with the care of a little, helpless babe. I was only afraid 
 they wouldn't like me that's all ; I am so different from 
 Mary. I never can fill her place. I feel almost afraid 
 now." She hesitated, and turned pale. 
 
 " You need not fear, my dear Mrs. Pay son." 
 
 "Call me 'Lizzie;' William always did," said the 
 widow. 
 
 " I know of no one that will please me or my children 
 but yourself," said Mr. Lovering. " We have proved 
 you, and you were Mary's friend, you know. Life has 
 been robbed of its romance ; we have learned to live 
 amid its sober realities, to enjoy its blessings and bear 
 its sorrows have we not, Lizzie ? " 
 
 " I should think we might have learned," was the 
 reply. "I, at least, am a dull scholar. But we have 
 both seen affliction, and can understand each other, I 
 think. I am not afraid on my Own account." 
 
 " Then you need not fear," was the prompt reply. 
 " My poor, wounded affections are yours, and you have 
 quite won the hearts of my children. Olive, even, the 
 most obstinate of them all, had no objections. Come, 
 let us make Elcvia glad for a moment." He led her in, 
 and with a calm, peaceful look on his face, said, " Bless 
 us, my child ; she has consented to take me for better or 
 for worse little Unie, sick Elevia, and all. Can't you 
 thank her ? "
 
 THE PROPOSAL. 231 
 
 The sick one reached out her pale, thin hand, and said, 
 with a smile, 
 
 " Yes, dear father, I can ; and you, too, for coining 
 so soon to tell me. And 0, Father in heaven," she said, 
 fervently clasping her hands, " I thank thee, too, for 
 raising up one so kind and worthy to be a comfort to 
 my father and a mother to my babe." 
 
 Mrs.. Payson was much affected ; she stooped over 
 the sick one, saying, 
 
 " Can you love me, dear, and trust me with your child? 
 Are you willing I should occupy your mother's place ? 
 Then I am happy. God helping me, I will try to do 
 right by little tuie, and help your father bear the burdens 
 of life." 
 
 Sealing her promise with a kiss, she busied herself in 
 making the invalid comfortable. 
 
 " What does Winnie say to all this ? " said Mr. Lov- 
 ering. " Do you think you will like to have a new 
 grandmother ? " 
 
 " Why, I have been saying, ' Bless the Lord, my 
 soul/ ever since you came in," was the joyful reply. 
 " I had a great deal rather have Mrs. Payson for grand- 
 mother than housekeeper, for now she is ours, you see ; 
 she belongs to us ; she is all our own, and we can have 
 her always, unless " Winnie's voice faltered " un- 
 less God takes her." 
 
 " You precious, darling child," said Mrs. Payson, 
 folding her in her arms, " it won't be very hard to be- 
 long to you ; that is a fact. I loved you the moment I 
 hii 1 my eyes on your blessed face. And you arc such 
 a patient little nurse, it almost kills me to see you so 
 confined. I can't have it so much longer. There, clear,
 
 232 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 now we are good friends for life I hope ; so go and play 
 out in the open air for an hour. I will stay with auntie." 
 
 " I should like to read my new book uncle Edward 
 bought me," was the reply, "if you are willing." 
 
 " Why, child, haven't you had time to read that yet ?" 
 said Mrs. Payson. " Well, I never 1 You are the patient- 
 est little thing I ever saw. Read it ? Yes, indeed, only 
 go and find some good, cool, shady place out of doors. 
 And don't stir till it is finished, unless you wish to." 
 
 " I thank you," said Winnie. " I wanted to read it 
 very much, but the leaves rattled and made auntie start. 
 Can I bring you anything, auntie," she inquired, " be- 
 fore I go?" 
 
 "No, darling," was the reply; "go and enjoy your 
 book now. You are auntie's comforter in every sense 
 of the word."
 
 HESTER RESCUES THE BABY. 233 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 HESTER RESCUES THE BABY FROM ITS UNNATURAL FATHER. 
 DR. EDWARD'S TIMELY ARRIVAL. 
 
 IT was quite dark when Hester arrived at Mr. Giles'. 
 The nervous sobbing of little Unie smote her ear pain- 
 fully. She listened a moment. 
 
 " Wat did you bring that young un 'ere for, I wonder ? 
 I won't touch 'er, more'n I would a snake." 
 
 " Corne, Ann, don't be so mean ; I thought you'd do 
 that much to help me. Undress her ; she is most used 
 up. I've conquered her ; I don't believe she'll raise the 
 neighbors again to-night, screaming. It's the real Lover- 
 ing temper isn't it ? " 
 
 " Do'no ; guess she got some on't t'other side," was 
 the glum retort. " Young uns are a plague, any way. 
 Come 'ere, then." 
 
 A quick, sharp cry followed this speech. Hester raised 
 the latch and entered. 
 
 " Good evening, Miss Ann," said she. " I thought 
 you would have trouble, and came over to help you take 
 care of her, till she gets acquainted. Poor little thing ; 
 she is as timid as can be." Mr. Giles arose, and strode 
 towards the baby ; but Hester was before him ; she had 
 little Unie folded tightly in her strong arms. 
 
 " Mr. Giles," said she, " this child is almost dead. If 
 it should go into a fit and die to-night, it would go hard
 
 234 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 with you. She was perfectly well when you took her. 
 There ! look I see what you have done," as the nervous 
 sobbing 1 ceased, and the little form writhed in strong con- 
 vulsions ; " see ! " 
 
 " I see ! " was the startled reply. " I didn't think of 
 that. Why ! I never ! What shall I do ? " 
 
 The little face was black and distorted ; the frail form 
 shook and quivered. Hester wiped the froth from -the 
 blue lips, and said, 
 
 " Promise me, Mr. Giles, that in two or three days 
 you will carry her back with me, unless she seems per- 
 fectly willing' to stay, and I will try to save her. Will 
 you promise ? " Another struggle. 
 
 " Yes, yes, save her, and do what you please with her. 
 Don't let her die on my hands so suddenly." Ho had 
 never seen any one in a fit before ; it was truly appalliug. 
 Hester saw that he trembled. 
 
 " It is strange," said she ; " it acts something like 
 poison. What have you given her, Mr. Giles ? " 
 
 " 0, nothing ! nothing ! Have I, Ann ? " 
 
 " Do'no ; good nuff for ye ; needn't bring 'er 'ere/' 
 was the reply. Hester applied herself diligently to re- 
 lieving the little sufferer ; and after a while, the muscles 
 relaxed, the eyes opened. 
 
 " Birdie, bird," said Hester, " 'tis auntie." 
 
 The frightened look passed awa}', the little stiff hand 
 was raised painfully to Hester's face, a smile parted the 
 yet blue lips. 
 
 " She looks very deathly," said Hester. 
 
 " Yes," said Mr. Giles ; " I never saw anything like 
 it. Do you think she is going to die ? " 
 
 " I can't tell ; you had better leave me alone with her.
 
 HESTER RESCUES THE BABY. 235 
 
 If she should have another, as bad as that, right off, I 
 think she would die. It seems to me she must have taken 
 something. Haven't you given her some laudanum, or 
 something, Ann ? You had her when I came." 
 
 " 0, Lordy, no ! I hain't gin 'er nothin'. He licked 
 'er; I didn't," she said, as Hester, in removing the child's 
 clothing, pointed at some large red marks. Mr. Giles 
 looked. 
 
 " Why, I didn't think I struck so hard," he said. 
 
 Baby shrank away from him, and moved her head from 
 side to side. 
 
 " Hush ! " said Hester ; " leave her alone with me, or 
 she will have another fit." 
 
 She was obeyed instantly. They were both thoroughly 
 frightened by this time. 
 
 " Die, or not die," said Ann, " I ain't done nothin' ; 
 ye needn't a' brought 'er 'ere." 
 
 Hester slept but little that night. Unie was very rest- 
 less, starting in her sleep, and crying out every now and 
 then. She was glad when the rays of morning peeped in 
 at the window, for she had passed a dreary, lonesome 
 night, and longed to take baby in her arms and make 
 her escape before the inmates of the house arose, but felt 
 that she must wait. 
 
 " Once well done is twice done," was her motto. If 
 Mr. Giles consented to give up the child, that would end 
 the matter. 
 
 Three days passed. They were full of trouble and 
 weariness to Hester, full of doubt and anxiety to the 
 friends at home. Little Unie was very sick. The fright, 
 the length of time she had cried, the cruel blows she had 
 received, and change of food, had been too much for her.
 
 236 ITESTEtt STRONG'S LIFE WOEK. 
 
 Hester really feared that she should never be able to 
 carry her home. Mr. Giles felt mortified and somewhat 
 frightened ; Miss Ann, angry. 
 
 " Pretty fuss you've got us into ain't ye ? " she said 
 to Hester, when called upon to render some little ser- 
 vice. 
 
 Hester made no reply, because Ann's voice caused 
 Unie to start, every time she heard it. 
 
 " Mr. Giles," said Hester, " I think you had better 
 carry us home ; the child will never be any better here. 
 Every time she opens her eyes, it seems as if she would 
 go into fits. It is lucky for you that I came, for I cer- 
 tainly think the child would not have lived through the 
 first night. Had she come out of that fit in your arms, 
 or Ann's, she would have gone into another, and so on 
 till she died. It would have been hard for you to con- 
 vince people that you were not guilty of a horrid crime. 
 Yes," she said, "I am glad I came, for your sake as well 
 as other reasons." 
 
 " It would have been awkward, to be sure," said Mr. 
 Giles, thoughtfully. 
 
 " And there are those marks, too," said Hester. " I 
 never saw such a sight on so young a child." 
 
 " I had no idea," said Mr. Giles, " that I should leave 
 a mark ; but she was a stubborn little thing ; she wouldn't 
 stop her screaming till I had whipped her several times." 
 
 " For shame ! " said Hester ; " the little thing wasn't 
 stubborn ; she was frightened and grieved, that was all. 
 I never saw her show a bit of temper. Come, Mr. Giles, 
 promise me yes, promise me in black and white that 
 you will carry us back, and never take her ag.ii.j without 
 the consent of her guardian, or her own ; and I promise
 
 HITTER RESCUES THE BABY. 237 
 
 that those marks shall never be seen out of the family, and 
 this whole affair shall be hushed up. I promise never to 
 reveal what I heard through the open window." 
 
 Mr. Giles started, 
 
 " Eavesdropping ! " he said, fiercely. " Woman, what 
 did you hear ? " 
 
 Hester saw the frightened look, and concluded that after 
 all she had not heard the worst. 
 
 " 0, I heard some things/' Mr. Giles, " that had better 
 never have been heard by mortal ear, to say nothing of 
 the ever-present God." 
 
 "Eavesdropper! tell me, I say, tell me what you 
 heard." He came close up to her, his whole countenance 
 expressing rage. 
 
 " Stand farther off," said Hester, sternly ; " you will 
 frighten Uriic to death." 
 
 " I wish to God she was " He stopped. 
 
 " I know it, Mr. Giles, I know it ; but you shall not 
 kill her." 
 
 Hester laid her on the bed, and turned towards him with 
 a calm, resolute look. He seemed to be measuring her 
 from head to foot, while every muscle of his face ex- 
 pressed passion, hatred, ay, malignity. 
 
 " Devil," he said, hoarsely, " tell me what you heard." 
 
 " I shall not," said Hester, resolutely. " Mason Giles, 
 I am not an ' eavesdropper.' I came here that night 
 under peculiar circumstances, as you very well know. I 
 kucu- you would need me, and you did. I didn't expect 
 | to hear what I heard," she said, bending towards him and 
 '"g low, "nor see just what I saw, either. I cx- 
 Ui.io crying, nothing more. I hesitated 
 t the door. Am I to bkuue fur hearing what 1 huavd ?
 
 238 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 It was lucky for you that it was I who heard it, and not 
 another," she said, impressively. " But I promise in the 
 presence of God, that I will never repeat all I heard, if 
 you will give me the writing I require." 
 
 " I'll trust you," said he, the muscles of his face re- 
 laxing ; " I'll trust you ; but if you break your oath, be- 
 ware. But first give me a writing that I shall never be 
 called upon to pay the child's board, or other expenses, 
 and also that you will forever keep a secret those terrible, 
 thoughtless words you heard. I didn't mean it ; I was 
 vexed." 
 
 " That I will do," said Hester. " Bring me pen and 
 paper." 
 
 The two papers were exchanged, and Hester made a 
 bundle of the few garments belonging to baby, and wait- 
 ed for Mr. Giles. 
 
 " I shan't trust 'er, if you do, till she's gin suthin 
 better 'n that ; 'er tongue is allers a runnin'," she heard 
 Miss Ann say, as she stepped out to hasten preparations. 
 
 A strange feeling came over her as she returned and 
 waited another hour. Unie was in a deep sleep, and 
 everything was still. She felt timid ; it was a new feel- 
 ing to her. 
 
 " My nerves are getting weak," she thought ; " I 
 haven't slept much for three nights. Mr. Giles," she 
 called, " are you almost ready ? Unie is sleeping, and it 
 is getting late. I should like to go now." 
 
 " I have concluded not to go till morning, it is so late," 
 was the reply; "and Ann will help you take care of 
 Unie to-night." 
 
 " I am sorry," said Hester ; " the longer you keep her, 
 the more stir it will make. But Ann can't help me ; it
 
 DR. EDWARD'S TIMELY ARRIVAL. 239 
 
 would only worry the child, and keep me awake. If you 
 are not going, I will lock the door, and lie down, while 
 baby sleeps. Good night." 
 
 Hester knelt in prayer, first of all, and then threw 
 herself wearily on the bed. She could not think she was 
 in danger, and yet she could not feel that she was safe. 
 She knew not what to expect. She arose and looked 
 from the window. The darkness, as it gathered over hill 
 and valley, made her feel more lonely. Unie awoke, and 
 partook more heartily of nourishment than she had done 
 before. When she slept again, all was still in the house 
 and on the street. It was eleven. Hester raised the 
 window which opened on the piazza, put on her shawl 
 and bonnet, took the bundle on her arm, folded baby to 
 her bosom, and stepped forth. 
 
 " Only a mile and a half," she thought ; " I can walk 
 it." The night air felt damp. Little Unie lay like a 
 dead weight on her arms. " I am not so strong as I once 
 was," sighed Hester. " Perhaps I had better have staid 
 till morning ; but I am getting nervous ; that is plain. 
 There is something about that house that is terribly de- 
 pressing ; and I feel as if I must see Elevia. I am afraid 
 this affair will reach her. No, I am glad I started ; I am 
 half way home now." She paused in her walk for a mo- 
 ment, and sat upon a stone. The moon was shining 
 brightly. A carriage came slowly up the hill, and Hester 
 watched it eagerly on its winding way. She arose and 
 stepped out into the light. The doctor drew his rein, and 
 looked at the strange apparition, but recognized her in a 
 moment, saying, 
 
 " Aunt Hester, is that you ? How came you here ? " 
 
 " Don't you know ?" said bhe. "I've got the baby,
 
 210 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 and, what is more, a writing from the father. ITere, help 
 me into the carriage, and drive fast, for I do believe the 
 dear child is either dying or having another fit." 
 
 " It is a fit," said the doctor, springing into the car- 
 riage. " I shall drive -to my own house ; it is about as 
 near, and I can attend to her better there." 
 
 " I do believe God sent you along just at this critical 
 moment," said Hester. " I can't explain now," she said, 
 in answer to a question from the doctor, as she held the 
 little sufferer so she could feel the air. " This is pretty 
 fast getting along," said Hester ; " I am glad we are here, 
 doctor," she continued, as she stepped slowly from the 
 carriage to the ground, " Hester Strong is growing weak, 
 I do believe." 
 
 " There is a good reason for it," said the doctor ; 
 " worn out in our service. Hester, this must not be any- 
 longer ; you must rest." The doctor spoke to his wife, 
 and for the first time in her life, Hester found herself un- 
 able to render necessary assistance. She was obliged to 
 leave baby in their care and retire. Fortunately, baby did 
 not miss her ; she remained in a partial stupor all night. 
 The doctor retired, and his wife was left alone with the 
 care of Unie. While attending to her wants, she made 
 a discovery which agitated her greatly ; namely, the 
 large, ugly marks mentioned. They were dark now, and 
 looked worse than ever. 
 
 " Edward," she called, quickly, " come here, do." 
 
 He was there in a moment. 
 
 " Look at that," she said, pointing at the marks ; 
 "what is that?" They looked at each other in per- 
 plexity. 
 
 " Hester has passed through more than we know," 
 said the doctor.
 
 DK. EDWARD'S TIMELY ARRIVAL. 241 
 
 " Tes, and baby too," was the reply. " What can it 
 mean ? You don't think Mason did it do you ? " 
 
 " Yes ; who would, if he didn't ? Poor little thing ! 
 I should really like to know what this means, and how 
 Hester came on that hill, at that time of night, with an 
 almost dying child. But we must wait." 
 
 "Yes," said his wife: "now go to bed again ; you 
 need rest. I shouldn't have called you, but I was fairly 
 frightened. I can take care of her. I am to give her 
 this every hour, you say ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 Little Unie seemed better in the morning, but Hester 
 felt quite unwell. 
 
 " I shall be better in a day or two," she said to the 
 doctor. " I have been over-anxious and over-worked. I 
 was so afraid Martha would worry herself sick, or that 
 Elevia would hear about it. And there is my little Fossie ; 
 I can't bear to leave her. Besides, your father is all 
 broken down. I wish he was nicely married ; don't you, 
 doctor ? " 
 
 " Yes," said the doctor, promptly, " I do. Do you 
 think Mrs. Payson will marry him ? " 
 
 " Yes, if I understand such matters," said Hester, 
 smiling. " But they must not be kept in suspense any 
 longer. If you are determined to keep us, you must ride 
 over and tell them we are here, safe and sound. But 
 don't tell them how you found me. Tell them baby is 
 sick from crying so long, with fright, and change of food, 
 &c. That is about the truth isn't it ? And you think 
 she will get over it soon don't you ? " 
 
 " Xes, 1 hope she may, with good care ; but it will be 
 16
 
 242 HESTEll STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 some time first. That man ought to suffer ; but we must 
 leave him in the hands of God." 
 
 " I am willing to," said Ilester. " I am glad I haven't 
 got to judge him." 
 
 " My father never invested any money so well in his 
 life as he did that which he spent on Hester," said Mr. 
 Levering, when the doctor showed him the papers which 
 she had procured from Mr. Giles. " She has been the 
 greatest possible blessing to my family. God bless her." 
 
 " lie will," said Mrs. Payson ; " hasn't he blessed her, 
 and doesn't he bless every living soul that she staj's 
 with ? Only think how she got that baby ! There isn't 
 another person that could have done it. Her poor mother 
 is expecting Ilester to bring it over to-day. You had 
 better tell her Ilester isn't well ; that will satisfy her." 
 
 Grandpa Manlie and Martha were rejoiced to hear the 
 news. 
 
 " Bring them home as soon as it is safe," said Martha. 
 Elida capered about, when told that auntie and Unie were 
 over to uncle Edward's, and coming home soon. 
 
 " Dare," said she, " I told God 'bout that naughty 
 man, and he said " She paused. 
 
 " What did he say, pet ? " asked the doctor, greatly 
 amused. 
 
 " Well, he said 'he'd sec 'bout it.' He did didn't 
 he, auntie ? "
 
 MIDNIGHT MUSINGS. 243 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 MIDNIGHT MUSINGS. THE DISCOVERY. CONSCIENCE DIS- 
 TURBED. 
 
 MASON GILES slept but little that night. For the first 
 time in his life he was angry with himself. 
 
 " I was a fool to touch the young one, in the first 
 place," he mused "yes, a d d fool! But if Ann 
 had kept still, I shouldn't have whipped her so hard. 
 Of course I didn't mean to kill her." He shuddered. 
 " What if I had ? Hester saved the little creature, I do 
 believe, and my neck, perhaps." He moved restlessly 
 from side to side. " Likely enough I haven't treated 
 Levie just right. I believe she has tried to please 
 me. 0, well, women are always fussing about some- 
 thing ! She needn't have cared whether I loved her or 
 not. What should I care about that if I had a good 
 home ? What if I did fret ? I had a right to, in my 
 own house. I worked hard ; women don't consider that. 
 They have an easy time sitting round in the house ; and 
 when a man comes in, all tired out, why, it must be, 
 ' My dear,' or ' My love,' like Dr. Levering. 
 
 " Fudge ! that don't get a living, nor pay taxes. A 
 man is a fool to get married. 1 wish I hadn't locked 
 everything up, though, for I don't think Lcvie was waste- 
 ful. Nonsense! Whose business is it? Isn't a man's 
 house his castle ? I thought all men did so father
 
 244 HESTER STROXG'3 LIFE WORK. 
 
 did. I wonder if brother Wiley lets his wife manage 
 those things ? I'll ask her. Dear me, I wish I could 
 go to sleep ! hard work coming to-morrow. Lev did 
 look pitiful when she asked me to forgive her. I wish 
 I could forget it." lie moved to the other side of the 
 bed as he thought, " Why, I am lying in her place. 
 She was very pretty when I married her. How the fel- 
 lows all envied me ! And, after all, I can't think of 
 anything very bad that she ever did. I wish she hadn't 
 asked me to forgive her, for I'm the most to blame. But 
 I wouldn't tell her so, to save her. No ; I'll be hanged 
 if I do : 'twould please tliem too much. And, after all, 
 wasn't I the head of the family ? She should have sub- 
 mitted to me. It is a wife's place to submit. I wish 
 Ann wouldn't make my tea so strong ! I shan't sleep a 
 wink to-night. She's as stubborn again as Levie 
 that's a fact ; and not half as good a housekeeper. She 
 is a miserable cook, and it costs more to live, too. I 
 mean to get along alone. I suppose I can't, though, 
 till after harvesting ; so I will try to keep still. There 
 is one thing I'm determined to do : I'll get that paper 
 back, or Hester shan't leave. Unic will be big enough 
 to keep house some time, if she lives ; then I'll want 
 her. If Ann could have got in there and stolen the 
 writings, why, they wouldn't have got any more 
 that's certain. If the child should die after Hester has 
 had the care of her three or four days, I'm safe enough. 
 And then, if Lev should happen to die suddenly, I don't 
 believe they'd think to secure the property. I don't 
 know but what things are working well enough. Why 
 in the world can't I go to sleep ? Ilere it is past mid- 
 night. 0, dear ! " He tried to sleep, but his mind was
 
 MIDNIGHT MUSINGS. 245 
 
 thoroughly waked up. " There now, I think of it," he 
 said aloud, sitting up in bed, " it isn't at all likely that 
 Hester heard me swear I would ' kill the young one, if 
 it didn't stop, and its grandfather, too/ or any of that 
 foolish, passionate talk, for that was before I whipped 
 her the last time. I paid on as if I meant to; she 
 never could have stood that never ; she would have 
 rushed in arid pounced upon me, thinking, sure enough, 
 I meant to kill the child. Why, I had no idea of doing 
 it, or of whipping her half so hard as I did. It was 
 provoking to have Ann say, ' Kill 'er, and done with 
 it ; you'd better. I shan't bury 'er, nor lie nuther, to 
 save yer neck.' She might have kept still. I could 
 have wrung her neck, I was so angry. I declare I be- 
 lieve I should have killed the baby if Hester hadn't come. 
 But she didn't hear that part, I know. What a fool 
 I was to get so frightened I I'll make her tell what 
 she did hear before I carry her home." 
 
 The night wore away at last ; breakfast was ready. 
 
 " I'll skim the milk while yer eatin'," said Ann, " and 
 slip round when I carry out a panful, an' see if I can't 
 find that are writin'. Good 'nuff for ye, if ye don't get 
 it ; ye'd no business to gi'n it to 'er." 
 
 " Perhaps not," said Mr. Giles. " That is a bright 
 thought, Ann ; get it if you can, for I don't want an- 
 other fuss with her, and the sooner they're off, why, the 
 better, you know." They called Hester ; but there was 
 no answer. They tried the door ; it was locked. They 
 called again, but could get no reply. 
 
 " Both dead, likely as not," muttered Ann ; " a 
 pretty fuss you've got us into." Mr. Giles stood aghast. 
 
 " Sure enough," he muttered ; " but I should have
 
 246 HESTEll STKOXG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 carried them off last night only for your interference. 
 A pretty fuss/' he muttered, " sure enough. Come, 
 let's go round and look in at the window. Gone ! as 
 sure as ," said Mason, " papers and all. Well, that is 
 better than to have them found dead on my hands. 
 That old fox was too much for us, Ann." 
 
 " Pretty fuss you've got into," was the reply. " Make 
 a nice talk won't it ? Hey ? Gittin' out of the 
 winder at the dead o' night, sick young un, an' all. 
 Good 'nuff for ye ; ye needn't 'ave got married." 
 
 " It was your fault, Ann," was the angry reply ; " if 
 you had minded your own business, I should have car- 
 ried them off last night, and you know it. Now, there is 
 no telling what will come." 
 
 " Why, she'll say ye insulted 'er, or threatened to 
 kill 'er, or suthin', pretty likely. I would if ye'd used 
 me so." Mr. Giles raised his hand as if about to strike ; 
 he dropped it again, and strode off, saying, 
 
 " That woman will be the ruin of me yet." 
 
 " Strike an' ye dare," was the mocking reply. " I 
 ain't 'fraid on ye, if Lev was." He turned in a terri- 
 ble rage, and shook his fist defiantly at her. 
 
 " Ann Thropee, if you were a man," he shouted, " I'd 
 beat you to death if you didn't stop ! Curse you, and 
 the laws too ! " The breakfast was eaten in silence. 
 Mason scowled at Ann. Ann scowled back. When it 
 was over, he said, 
 
 " Well, I've got her promise to keep still, and if she 
 don't, why, she is a liar, like the rest of her sex." 
 
 " 'Elp yerself if ye can," said Ann. "Wat will ye 
 do 'bout it, if she tells on't- hey ? " 
 
 "Ann, hold your tongue will you? I'll " He
 
 THE DISCOVERT. 247 
 
 hurried from the room. Ann laughed mockingly, and 
 screamed after him. 
 
 "Git another 'ousekeeper, an' ye will. I shan't stay 
 'ere." 
 
 " Why, Mason," said Mrs. Wiley, on being consulted, 
 " I should have thought you would have known better. 
 What a talk this will make ! Ilester is on good terms 
 with all the first families in the village. I am sure I 
 don't know why, but she is, though she has got her 
 living nursing, and pretty likely sprang from some low 
 family. The Lowells, and Leonards, and Trueman's 
 think everything of her. I am mortified. Envena is 
 just getting acquainted with the Truemans. How could 
 you be so thoughtless ? " 
 
 " They ain't no better 'n other folks," said Ann, " if 
 you do creep arter urn." 
 
 " About locking up things," continued Mrs. Wiley, 
 " why, that depends upon circumstances. My husband 
 never thought of such a thing. Why should he ? He 
 knows I am capable of taking care of them. About 
 Levie, I ain't sure that you were wrong there. She 
 hadn't much judgment, I suppose ; she was brought up 
 at school." 
 
 " Mind ye don't bring Veene up in the same way. 
 She don't git a cent o' mine, if ye do. Leve's good 
 as you are, fur 'z I know." 
 
 " Don't worry, Ann : Envena isn't going to school 
 always ; I mean she shall learn to work by and by. If 
 she makes as good a housekeeper as you are, that will 
 do won't it ? Did you say she got out of the win- 
 dow in the night, and walked home with that sick child 
 in her arms ? Don't you suppose she called at Mr. 
 Trueman's on her way home ? "
 
 248 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 " 'Ow do I know 'ow she got there ? " 
 
 " Mason," said Mrs. Wiley, " I tell you what I would 
 do. I would disinherit that child; and never let her have 
 a cent of my property, unless they would let me manage 
 hers. Why, it is monstrous to treat you so ; but I 
 wouldn't lay it to heart. Venie will be a daughter to 
 you won't you, Venie ? " 
 
 " Yes, mother," was the reply, as the girl arose, and 
 put her arms around her uncle's neck. "It is too bad, 
 uncle Mason ; but I will come and keep house for you, 
 when I am old enough can't I, mother? And aunt 
 Ann can live with us ; then I shall be an heiress 
 shan't I, uncle ? " Mrs. Wiley was chagrined at the 
 last remark. 
 
 " I see you are thinking of self, as usual," said Mason, 
 who had been a silent listener. " You are like all the 
 rest of them." 
 
 "You mean the Gileses, I s'posc," said Ann, laugh- 
 ing. " It's my 'pinion the Loverings and Gileses are 
 'bout alike." 
 
 " Come, don't, Ann ; you know better," said Mrs. Wiley. 
 
 " Why, daughter, you shouldn't have said a word 
 about the property," she said, sorrowfully, when they 
 were alone. 
 
 " I guess I shan't go for anything else," was the 
 reply, " and Ann is a tedious old thing. If I thought 
 I shouldn't get hers, I'd just leave off trying to please 
 her; that's all." 
 
 " 0, you will get it, no doubt, if you are only cautious, 
 and uncle's too, unless he marries again. So be wise, 
 my dear." 
 
 Mr. Giles didn't feel very comfortable for several
 
 CONSCIENCE DISTURBED. 249 
 
 days. He expected every one he met to speak of 
 those events about which he could not help thinking. 
 He started at the sound of every carriage, looked for 
 something unpleasant to take place, wished he could 
 know where Hester was, and what she was saying about 
 him, what she really did hear, and why she left as she 
 did. AVas she afraid of foul play ? 
 
 " Well, I don't wonder at it," he thought, " for I did 
 show off, and no mistake ; and Ann is a real old Hot- 
 tentot. If I could get Elevia back, I'd treat her better ; 
 I declare I would. She wasn't so selfish as other wo- 
 men, I do believe. I'd give a dollar to know if she has 
 heard about Unie ; but I dare not go there. So men 
 generally don't lock up provisions. I wish I'd known 
 that before. It is all a sham about men being the head 
 of the family, and I might as well come under petticoat 
 government as other men. Elevia could manage as well 
 as sister Wiley. Why not ? She knows as much as 
 two of her. Well, I guess I've gone the length of my 
 cord, and got brought up without bettering myself. But 
 if Hester Strong keeps her promise, I'll believe in reli- 
 gion, I declare I will." He concluded to drive over 
 to Mr. Trueman's store, and see how he appeared. " If 
 he has heard anything, why, I shall know it. He is 
 none of your hypocrites, if Wiley does cull him so. And 
 Hester would tell him before any one else out of the fam- 
 ily, I am sure." 
 
 Mr. Trueman appeared just the same as ever; he was en- 
 tirely ignorant of the unhappy affair. Mr. Giles felt better. 
 
 " I hear your wife is failing," he said. " I am sorry. 
 She will never be able to go home again, Mr. Lovering 
 tells me. It is sad."
 
 250 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 " I fear not," was the reply, spoken in a subdued 
 manner. 
 
 " And your child is very sick, too did you know it? 
 It was taken sick while on a visit to the doctor's with 
 Hester. She is sick, too." 
 
 "Is she? I hadn't heard of it." Mr. Giles was 
 very much agitated. Mr. Trueman noticed it, and re- 
 marked, 
 
 " The baby, I hear, is better, and Hester, I hope, 
 will be soon. I don't know what we should, any of us, 
 do without her. I have had great reason to honor and 
 respect her, Mr. Giles, as well as yourself." Mr. True- 
 man was called another way, much to Mr. Giles' relief. 
 He felt satisfied that Ilester had kept her secret so far. 
 
 "But it will get out/' he mused. "There are those 
 marks. I wish they were in If the family keep still, 
 why, I'll believe in religion. I want to see Levie ; but 
 I won't go there unless she sends for me. If she should 
 send, why, I will tell her I am sorry for some things. 
 But she needn't have felt so bad about it ; most 
 women wouldn't' But Mr. Giles did not know much 
 about women j had not had the best models to study.
 
 PASSING EVENTS. 251 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 PASSING EVENTS. SCENES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 " WE live among the dying, Jennie," said the doctor, 
 as he seated himself wearily at the breakfast table. 
 
 " Who is dead, my dear ? " said his wife, as she 
 ceased pouring his coffee, and looked anxiously in his 
 face. 
 
 ' ' Mr. Pearsons and Patty Stearns ; she died at four 
 this morning." 
 
 "Is it possible?" was the reply. "How did she 
 seem in her last moments ? " 
 
 " Calmly and serenely happy. Poor old lady ! she 
 tried to doubt her acceptance with God, feared that her 
 peace was insensibility, &c. ' I am such a sinner,' she 
 said often, ' have been so ungrateful, so fault-finding, 
 that it don't seem right for me to be so calm.' You 
 know she was very familiar with the Scriptures. Well, 
 formerly she delighted to repeat those passages which 
 speak of God as a judge, as offended with the wicked, 
 &c. ; but recently she has repeated those which reveal the 
 other side of the Divine nature, his mercy, his pity, and 
 compassion. Her last moments were spent in repeating 
 that beautiful psalm, 'The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall 
 not want,' word for word, slowly and emphatically, as 
 was her custom when in health ; particularly when she
 
 252 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 came to the verse, ' Though I walk through the valley 
 of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil ; fur thou art 
 with me ; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. Won- 
 derful, wonderful ! ' were her last words, as she passed 
 from a world of suffering to her rest on high." 
 
 After a few moments' silence, Hester, who was still 
 something of an invalid, remarked, 
 
 " Doctor, I am more and more impressed, the longer 
 I live, with the responsibility of training children. Miss 
 Patty's faults were very much the result of early train- 
 ing. It is a fearful responsibility to take in our own 
 strength.' 
 
 " 0, if parents could realize their unfitness for such a 
 work without religion," said Jennie, " how earnestly 
 they would seek the Lord ! " 
 
 " Wallace was a great favorite with Miss Patty," said 
 the doctor; "she has, willed him fifty dollars." 
 
 " Why, has she ? " said Hester. " The dear child 
 will be so pleased." 
 
 " Yes," said the doctor, smiling, " he talks of going 
 to college with it, and says it is all owing to your Chris- 
 tian talk about the sugar, vinegar, &c. He concluded 
 the poor old lady had received a very large portion of 
 vinegar in her life, and thought he would use sugar pro- 
 fusely, I suppose ; for I never saw a little fellow so 
 intent on pleasing another as he was her, and he suc- 
 ceeded, I think. She wanted him near her all the 
 time." 
 
 Tears came into Hester's eyes as she remarked, 
 
 " He is a noble, geuereus child, but rather impulsive. 
 I hope he will get an education and do well ; and I be- 
 lieve he will. Your sister's faith will be rewarded. I
 
 PASSING EVENTS. 253 
 
 feel sure of it. Those children will, every one of them, 
 be a blessing and an honor to us.' 7 
 
 " I forgot to tell you that Mr. Gray brought his bride 
 home last night," said the doctor. " That is quite a 
 pleasant affair ; she was an old acquaintance of many of 
 the neighbors ; they had a reception. Mr. Gray was 
 regretting that you couldn't be there, Hester. He says 
 you were a friend in need to him, and he is anxious that 
 you should renew your acquaintance with Mrs. Gray." 
 
 " I wasn't much acquainted," said Hester. " I knew 
 her. I am really glad for Mr. Gray arid his family. 
 Have you called there since the house was repaired and 
 furnished ? " 
 
 " No, I have not ; I have noticed the improvement 
 outside." 
 
 " Well, it is greater inside," was the reply ; " and I 
 heartily wish them much joy." 
 
 "How arc the children pleased?" inquired Jennie. 
 I should think they would be delighted." 
 
 " I should," said Hester; "and they are, all but 
 Hattie. '" Poor child ! she has imbibed that unreason- 
 able prejadice against step-mothers, and insists upon 
 going to the factory again. My creed is just this," said 
 Hester, earnestly " that if a woman is fit to be a mother, 
 if she is a true, noble woman, she will make a good step- 
 mother ; otherwise she will not. It is a difficult place 
 to occupy, one which needs judgment and tact ; for if a 
 woman has any faults, they will show off in that position 
 like fireworks in a dark night. It is like putting a black 
 patch on white groundwork." 
 
 " Sometimes it is the reverse," said the doctor, laugh- 
 ing ; "it is like putting a white patch on a dark back-
 
 254 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 ground isn't it so ? For instance, when the little 
 widow marries my father, which I see by a notice on the 
 church door will happen before long." 
 
 " Is that so ? " said both women. " Isn't it queer, 
 when Elevia is so low ? " 
 
 " I believe it was her wish that it should be so. She 
 wants them married in her room, in the presence of all 
 the children. It is an odd notion, but she must be grati- 
 fied that is, if she lives till the time arrives ; and I 
 rather think she may linger some time longer : she 
 may not live till then we can't tell. She is anxious 
 to see you and baby, Hester. I told her I thought she 
 could in a day or two. I fear the change in little Unie 
 will distress her. I am glad there are some more teeth 
 to lay it to ; I can't help pitying Mason, after all. I met 
 him to-day ; he seemed changed. He avoided rne. Hes- 
 ter, I wish you would tell rne just what happened while 
 you were there, and why you left in such a way." 
 
 " Well, I can't," said Hester; "there isn't much to it 
 any way, only I got sick and nervous, and felt as if I 
 couldn't stay ; and I am glad I didn't. What should I 
 have done without some one to help take care of Unie 
 for the last few days ? " 
 
 " Well, one thing is certain," said Jennie : " he 
 whipped that infant shamefully, for there arc the marks." 
 
 " I don't deny that," said Hester ; " but it was before 
 I arrived there. Men have no judgment about children, 
 and never ought to whip a baby. But I pity Mason, 
 myself. You know his father is the prince of tyrants, 
 and his mother was the queen of martyrs. The children 
 never knew that wives had ;uiy rights, only the right to 
 minister to the wants of their families. The sisters were
 
 SCENES AND INCIDENTS. 255 
 
 all older, and left home when Mason was young, all ex- 
 cept Ann, his half-sister." 
 
 " Such boys are to be pitied," said the doctor. 
 
 " Such men always get wives when they want them," 
 said Jennie. " I don't understand it." 
 
 " Did 3'ou ever hear about his striking one of the chil- 
 dren with his first wife's coffin lid ? " said Hester. 
 
 " No," was the reply. 
 
 "Well, he did you needn't look so incredulous. 
 The child remarked to another, ' I'd rather see mother 
 there than to see father abusing her,' just as he entered 
 the room. He seized the lid and struck the child, and 
 would have injured it had not a neighbor come in. lie 
 was a man of most ungovernable passion." 
 
 " I should think so," was the reply ; " and yet he has 
 had three wives. Perhaps Ann is to be pitied, too." 
 
 " I suppose she is," said Hester. " How do Charles 
 and Judith like the new arrangement ? " 
 
 " 0, pretty well, I should think. Judith is doing 
 nicely now ; she is very kind to Elevia. Charles talks 
 reasonably about it ; he has a kind heart ; and Winnie 
 can scarcely contain herself, she is so pleased. I have 
 one more item of news for you, and then I must go. 
 Morgan has been to father's and grandfather's." 
 
 "Why, you don't say so?" said Jennie. "And 
 what did he want ? " 
 
 " He was there yesterday, and wanted money. He 
 says father has cheated him out of three thousand dol- 
 lars, or so." 
 
 Hester groaned aloud. 
 
 " Don't let it trouble you, aunt Hester." 
 
 " I can't help it," was the reply. " I am getting
 
 256 HESTEE STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 weak. 0, dear, dear ! what a mortification he is going 
 to be to the children ! He was ragged and dirty, I 
 presume ? " 
 
 " Yes, and saucy, too. Father got rid of him easily 
 enough ; but Martha made a great mistake." 
 
 " What did she do ? " said Hester, eagerly. 
 
 " 0, nothing, only hired him to go home ; gave him 
 three dollars, and he stumbled into Mr. Trueman's store, 
 and called for rum. Mr. Truernan talked to him faith- 
 fully for drinking ; and when he found out that he was 
 Winnie's father, he tried to get him to his house, that he 
 might labor with him. He couldn't, of course. He 
 hurried over to Stillman's, and got some, without doubt, 
 in some form or other. That is the last I know of him. 
 That store is a nuisance." 
 
 " That is what we get for putting such a man in as 
 agent to sell liquor," said Hester. " Our new law won't 
 amount to much. It is a shame ; any toper can get it 
 of him. He likes it so well himself that he won't deny 
 others. Mr. Crafty is the man of his counsel. Edward, 
 now I think of it ; how can you consistently give certifi- 
 cates to such men as Crafty and others, when you know 
 they use it as a beverage, and abuse their families ?" 
 
 " I don't," was the emphatic reply. " I have given 
 but two or three certificates since the law was passed. I 
 have had numerous applications, made so dolefully many 
 times, that I couM scarcely help laughing outright. It 
 has been exceedingly awkward, and really I think I shall 
 lose some practice in that way, but not much that is pay- 
 ing-. Who started that story ? I should like to have 
 Stillman show me one of the certificates with my name 
 on it. I shall look into that matter. My name shan't 
 be used for a cloak in such dirty business."
 
 SCENES AND INCIDENTS. 257 
 
 " I am glad to hear you say so," was the reply. " I 
 have been feeling grieved that you did not stand by Mr. 
 Trueman. He felt it, too." 
 
 " Why, I never thought of doing anything else. The 
 law would have passed all the same ; but if he felt it his 
 duty to advocate it, and sacrifice custom by doing it, 
 why, I respect him for it. He will be the greatest loser 
 in town for the present ; but eventually he will be the 
 gainer. Next year he shall be agent, or I am mistaken. 
 People will sec by that time that we want a man we can 
 trust. Wife, patronize him all you can." 
 
 Hester bowed her head, and remained silent. 
 
 " What did Winnie say to her father ? " said Jennie. 
 
 " I don't know ; but Mrs. Payson said she had a long 
 cry after he left. But Sunshine went into a tempest 
 right off when he called her his little girl. 
 
 " ' I isn't your ; ittle did ; I spects I's auntie's Sun- 
 shine, I is. Go away, naughty man ; I isn't your 'ittle 
 dirl.' He didn't seem to realize that Fostina was his 
 child at all." 
 
 " I am thankful for that," said Hester. " I sec that 
 I must gird myself for another conflict. I thought, when 
 I brought Unie home, that the last foe had been con- 
 quered ; but I was mistaken, you see, for I am deter- 
 mined that he shan't torment those children. I must pi 
 home to-morrow ; perhaps I shall gain faster with the 
 harness on. Martha, the dear girl, did a foolish thing 
 when she gave him money. I shall have to fight all the 
 harder. 0, well ! ' As thy day, so shall thy strength 
 be.' " 
 
 11
 
 258 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 ABOUT HESTER'S CALL. WINNIE'S TALK, AND GRANDPA'S 
 WEDDING. 
 
 HESTER called to see Elevia on her way home. She 
 had not changed much, and seemed very happy. Provi- 
 dentially, little Unie brightened up during their call. 
 
 " She will be better soon," said Hester ; " she has 
 two new teeth, the darling ! " 
 
 " But the care of her is wearing you out, auntie," 
 said the mother. " Can't you get some one to help you ? 
 You said you would. Lay her beside mamma. Darling, 
 precious one ! mamma's birdie ! 0, how much your 
 poor father is losing in not loving you better, little 
 one ! I want to save him. I wish his eyes could be 
 opened. Hester, I think if I had been a Christian, 
 trusting in Christ, I might have shown him his errors. 
 Won't you try when I am gone ? I regret that he can- 
 not have Unie. If Ann were like you, I should want 
 her to go there, but he wouldn't be willing she should 
 have the care of her, if I was. And I, 0, I couldn't 
 leave the little thing with her, she is so soured ! Ma- 
 son didn't have much to improve him at home did he, 
 auntie?. lie has a very low estimate of female char- 
 acter. He respects you, though, and you might do him 
 good." Hester remained quiet, thinking of what had 
 passed during the last week or two, and rejoicing that 
 Ll'-via was in blis.si'ul ignorance of it.
 
 ABOUT HESTER'S CALL. 259 
 
 " The Lord helping me, I will try," was the low 
 response. 
 
 " The dear Lord and Master reward you, Hester," she 
 said, taking her broad palm in her own, so pale and thin. 
 " The dear Lord reward and bless you for all your kind- 
 ness to me and those dear to me. Come and see me as 
 often as you can. Only for Unie, I should be selfish, 
 and want you all the time I stay here." Winnie fol- 
 lowed her aunt from the room, and, as soon as they were 
 alone, she said, 
 
 " lie has been here, auntie ; my father has been here. 
 0, it is awful ! He don't look as he did. He wanted 
 rum. He asked me to get him some ; said he was sick. 
 I can never, never be happy any more ! " she cried. 
 " lie will come again, some time, I am afraid." 
 
 "I guess not, dear," said Hester ; " and if he does, 
 will that destroy all your comfort ? Won't Jesus re- 
 main the same, dear ? Can't you rejoice in him ? " 
 
 " I could, if I didn't rebel so. But when I don't feel 
 willing to have things as they are, and want my own 
 way, I think Jesus is displeased and grieved, for he 
 seems farther off, and I arn so unhappy." 
 
 " My dear child," said Hester, " ought you to be un- 
 happy all the time because God has taken away one tenth 
 of. your earthly good ? He has left you nine tenths 
 ought you not to enjoy that?" 
 
 " Yes, auntie, I know I should, and I will try," 
 sobbed the child. " But isn't my father a pretty large 
 tenth, auntie ? It seems to me that a little girl with a 
 good, kind father ought to be very happy all the time. 
 Only think! He came with his old, every-day clothes 
 on, and I gness aunt Abigail and grandmother don't
 
 260 HESTEE STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 mend them, as mother did. And he talked so, right be- 
 fore Mrs. Payson ! and he says I am to go to the factory, 
 and earn something for him, instead of working here for 
 nothing. Mrs. Payson told him, ' For shame ! ' to talk 
 about a frail child like me supporting a great, stout 
 man like him. She told him he ought to work and sup- 
 port his children. He said he was sick, and looked ter- 
 rible angry. But, auntie, I haven't told you the worst/' 
 said Winnie, going close to Hester. " Uncle Charles 
 gave him a glass of bitters, and there is a good lot of 
 rum in them. He used to give him some when mamma 
 was alive, and make her cry. And when she would 
 ask father not to drink, he used to say he was no worse 
 than the parson, and. her father and brothers. That 
 always made mamma cry, and she used to say she was 
 sorry they drank, for it was bad to drink ever so little, 
 for fear they might drink more some time ; and grandpa 
 don't now." 
 
 " Uncle Frank and uncle Edward don't drink a drop," 
 said Hester; "and I hope uncle Charles will leave off 
 soon. It was wrong for him to give it to your father. 
 Winnie, if I were you, I would ask him not to drink it, 
 nor give your poor father any. Tell him what you have 
 just told me about it. Perhaps you can help along the 
 glorious cause of Temperance. You ought to be grate- 
 ful to God for sending Wallace where he will not be 
 tempted in that direction. He has signed the pledge 
 did you know it ? " 
 
 "No, auntie has he? Can't I sign? I want to. 
 Then I can have a better chance to talk to others." 
 
 " Why, yes, dear, you can sign the pledge. - But auntie 
 must go now. Don't trouble your little head, darling,
 
 GRANDPA'S WEDDING. 261 
 
 about the factory. You arc my little girl. I have got 
 you all in black and white now. You are to go to 
 school, if nothing prevents, and prepare yourself to 
 teach, or be useful in some other way." 
 
 Mr. Lovering's wedding took place in Elevia's sick 
 room, very quietly. It was a solemn occasion. Broth- 
 ers and sisters stepped softly, ay, reverently, into the 
 presence of one apparently so near the eternal gate. 
 The ceremony was performed by the aged pastor, whose 
 white locks fell gracefully back from his noble brow. 
 ILis voice faltered as he said, " What God hath joined 
 together let not man put asunder," for he remembered 
 the past. It had been his privilege to unite both bride 
 and bridegroom in their former marriages. He had also 
 married several members of the family. He thought 
 of Elevia's joyous wedding festival. Only a few short 
 years had passed, and what a change ! When it was 
 all over, Mr. Lovering stepped to his daughter's bed- 
 side, and said, 
 
 " Are you tired, dear ? " 
 
 " Not much," was the reply. " May God bless you, 
 my dear parents, and make you a blessing to each other 
 and the world." Mrs. Lovering stooped and kissed the 
 cheek of the sufferer. 
 
 " Raise me up, dear mother. I have something which 
 I wish to say to you, while you are all together. 
 
 ' I am going home to heaven above : 
 Will you go ? will you go ? ' " 
 
 She said, earnestly, looking from one to the other, 
 " 0, will you go?" She seemed to be waiting for a 
 
 reply.
 
 262 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 " I will try, I will try," passed from one to the other, 
 until all had promised. She smiled contentedly. 
 
 " That promise is registered in the book on high," 
 said the aged pastor. "0, keep it, my dear friends ; 
 keep it." 
 
 " Yes," said Elevia, " I expect you to keep it, and 
 God expects it. But those of you who are out of 
 Christ, don't wait until death calls you, or until earthly 
 pleasures fade, and life grows dark ; but come to Jesus. 
 Now is the accepted time. Don't do as I did, you 
 know it all, but come while in health and strength. 
 Little Winnie, tell them what Jesus is to you." 
 
 "He is precious," said the child, folding her hands, 
 " and very lovely." 
 
 " Is he always near you ? " said the aged pastor, 
 placing his hand on her head. 
 
 " He never leaves me," was the reply. " Sometimes 
 I wander away from him, and get lost ; but he never 
 leaves me. He has said he wouldn't ; don't you re- 
 member it ? 'I will never leave nor forsake thee.' ; 
 
 " How do you feel when you get lost, little pilgrim ? " 
 said the pastor, patting her tenderly on the head. 
 
 " 0, sorry and frightened ; and I just run back as fast 
 as I can, saying, 
 
 ' Jesus, Lover of my soul, 
 Let me to thy bosom fly.' " 
 
 " I trust you are, indeed, a lamb of his flock," was the 
 reply. "Should you like to confess Christ before the 
 world ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir, I should, when I am good enough. I 
 should like to tell the whole world how good he is, and 
 what he has done for me."
 
 GRANDPA'S WEDDING. 263 
 
 " I think we had better retire," said Mr. Lovcring. 
 " I fear Levie is overdoing." 
 
 " One thing more, father, and then you may go. I 
 want you all, every one of you, to forgive Mason. He 
 does riot know how he has wronged me. Forgive him, 
 and try to bring him to Christ. 0, treat him kindly, 
 and teach him the living way. To-morrow, when I am 
 rested, I want to see him. You will riot deny me ? " 
 she said, as she saw them look from one to another. 
 This was a hard thing to ask of them ; bat they could 
 deny her nothing. " Thank you," she said, as they 
 promised. ' Blessed are the merciful, for they shall ob- 
 tain mercy.' If God can forgive us, for Christ's sake, 
 ought we not to forgive each other ? I have but one 
 other duty to do, and then I am ready to go, if it be 
 God's will. Pray for me, dear brothers and sisters, that 
 I may prevail, that my faith fail not. Dear pastor, pray 
 for me and him. Good by."
 
 264 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 SELF-COMMUNINGS. THE STILL SHALL VOICE. LIGHT IN 
 DARKNESS. 
 
 "How cheerless and dreary this house has become," 
 sighed Mr. Giles, " since Elevia left it 1 Why, it seems 
 like a tomb. I wonder that I could ever have com- 
 plained of her housekeeping. It was perfect, compared 
 with Ann's, and her food delicious better than sister 
 Wiley's. I never thought of it till lately. If she had 
 only submitted without arguing, as a woman ought, why, 
 we should have been happy. Heigh-ho ! I wonder if I 
 have been exacting. Mr. Levering and the doctor said 
 1 had, and that no mortal man, in bis senses, ought to 
 expect a woman to put up with such tyranny and miserly 
 meanness. Yes, those were their very words. They 
 said I was a chip of the old block. . How that cut me 1 
 For I confess father is a tyrant of the deepest dye to 
 wife, children, and all. Poor Ann was his special aver- 
 sion. Heigh-ho ! I wonder if I haven't copied him, 
 after all ? Pshaw ! I never struck Elevia. I'm not 
 sure I shouldn't, though, but for fear of the family. I 
 have wanted to ; but Elevia always seemed so superior to 
 other women, I mean Lucy, and Jane, and Ann. I know 
 but little about females at large ; I never thought them 
 worth much notice." 
 
 Thus thought Mason Giles as he walked his room late
 
 SELF-COMMUNINGS. 2G5 
 
 at night. His nights had been nearly sleepless since the 
 one he remembered as " the terrible night." lie was 
 striving to solve a serious problem he was searching 
 for the truth. The pale, beautiful face of his wife 
 haunted him day and night, as she looked when she said, 
 " I may have been a poor wife to you, Mason ; for- 
 give me. I tried to please you." Conscience echoed, 
 " She did try to please you, with a devotion few wives 
 could command." He seemed struggling to throw off 
 these unpleasant convictions ; but in vain. He trembled 
 when he thought how nearly he had added the crime of 
 murder to his other sins. Strangely enough, as he 
 thought of little Unie, struggling in his arms, shrinking 
 away, and screaming as if in great pain, his feelings 
 softened towards her. 0, was it fear and grief, and not 
 stubbornness ? as he had thought. " Poor little thing ! " 
 he murmured, walking rapidly up and down the room. 
 " Such a baby ! How could I handle her so roughly ! 
 I was mad with them, and spent my wrath on a helpless 
 baby my baby bone of my bone and flesh of my 
 flesh. Cowardly man ! I hate myself for it. 0, if I 
 had killed her ! I felt as if I should like to do it. I 
 thank God I was kept from dashing the little head on the 
 floor. I fear I should if Hester hadn't rescued her. I 
 thought she was defying me, resisting my will. For the- 
 first time in my life, I do feel truly thankful to God. 
 When Elevia spoke in that way, how angry I used to 
 feel ! I thought I was my own keeper ; I gloried in my 
 own strength. ' What had I that I did not get ? ' I 
 often inquired of her. ' Mason,' she would say, ' God 
 gives you the ability, the strength, and the opportunity 
 to do everything. Without him you could do nothing.'
 
 266 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 I think now she was right. God," ho groaned, 
 " what a miserable sinner I am, when I thought I was 
 about right ! Self-deceived and ruined for time and 
 eternity ! 0, I dare not think of meeting God ! And 
 yet Elevia is as peaceful as a lamb, and really looks 
 more cheerful than she has for a long time. Strange, 
 strange ! I should be in an agony if I thought death 
 was near." 
 
 He threw himself heedlessly on the unopened bed, and 
 wept for the first time since a child. Then said he, 
 resolutely, 
 
 " What a fool I am ! I am no worse than many others, 
 I suppose. I wonder what there is in the chapter about 
 ' Wives, submit yourselves.' Hester wanted me to read 
 it. She is a Christian, I declare, or she would have told 
 of me. And what else but religion could induce her to 
 spend her life taking care of other people's children 
 mine, for instance and for nothing? How that child 
 loves her ! How safe she felt in her arms ! Why should 
 she follow it, and walk, too ? That is the mystery. 
 Yes, I do believe in religion. It is that which sustains 
 Elevia now, that which makes Winnie so different from 
 Envena. Yes, yes," he said, impatiently, '/ it is that 
 which makes them so different from me, wretch that I 
 am. I might have been happy with my wife but for 
 this hateful disposition of mine. But I have driven my 
 wife and child away from me, if not killed them both ; 
 and now my house is a tomb, and my soul a whited 
 sepulchre. I am a ' hissing arid a by-word.' God, 
 have mercy, have mercy ! I can't bear this misery ; my 
 sins have found me out, and they are enough to sink me 
 down to hell."
 
 SELF-COMMUNINGS. 26t 
 
 lie shuddered, and, pressing his open palms close to 
 his face, remained silent a moment. He then opened 
 Elevia's Bible, which he had never looked into before, 
 and read, " To my dear daughter Elevia, on her wed- 
 ding day." 
 
 He then read the chapter named before, and found, to 
 his great mortification, how far short he had come of 
 doing his part in the marriage relation, lie read on, 
 turning from place to place, like a weary, discontented 
 child. ITis eye fell upon the parable of the returning 
 prodigal. " That I can't do," he mused ; " I can't 
 go to her. Haven't I said I wouldn't ? Haven't I said 
 it ? No, I won't go near them ; I'll fight it out alone. 
 I have been a wicked, foolish man ; but I won't own it 
 to them. If Elevia's mother were alive, I could confess 
 it all to her. She was a saint, if there ever was one this 
 side of heaven. I must sleep. Ann never will learn to 
 make my tea weaker." 
 
 Thus this night also wore away ; but little sleep 
 came to refresh Mr. Giles. It was the night after tho 
 wedding. Never had he known a more cheerless one. 
 He arose looking so pale and haggard that Ann was 
 moved to say, 
 
 " Sick ? " as he arose from a scarcely tasted break- 
 fast. " Why don't ye eat suthin', or fret, as ye did to 
 Lev ? 'Fraid to ain't ye ? Ye needn't be," she con- 
 tinued ; "I'd rather ye'd fret than die." 
 
 "Ann, let me alone won't you? I ain't sick," 
 'was his only reply. 
 
 " Yes, I'll let yc alone, an' yer work too, an' ye like. 
 I shan't keep 'ouse for a ghost much longer," muttered 
 Ann.
 
 268 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 " Well, Ann, you keep still ; I'll bo all right soon. 
 You make my tea too strong; I can't sleep that's 
 all." He left the room without further delay. " Misera- 
 ble man !" he thought, as he tried to busy himself about 
 the place. " I can't set myself to work. Why, I miss 
 her. How neat she always looked, and the table, and 
 the house ! But I didn't know it. Well, the Scripture 
 is true ' His house shall be left desolate : ' that is 
 something like it, and it is true. I almost wish it was 
 burned down. It reminds me so much of what I might 
 have enjoyed. God ! it is gone, all gone ; hence- 
 forth there is nothing but sorrow and darkness for me, 
 and I deserve it all all, and more, too," he groaned. 
 " 0, I wish I could see Elevia once more." 
 
 That was indeed a prayer, and it was heard arid an- 
 swered almost as soon as it was uttered. 
 
 Let us return to grandpa Lovering's, and see what has 
 been transpiring there on this eventful night. 
 
 When the company reached the parlor, Mrs. Lovering 
 said, " Mr. Lovejoy, stop and pray for her here. If the 
 dear child could see her husband converted, why, it 
 would almost save her life. I can't bear to see her so 
 distressed about him. That is the only thing which 
 troubles her." 
 
 " I will," was the reply ; " and as she is wishing to 
 see him to-morrow, I will make it a subject of special 
 pleading that the desire of her heart may be granted." 
 
 Earnestly and tenderly the case was presented at the 
 throne of grace, with an importunity which seemed to 
 admit of no denial. Tears came to every eye. 
 
 " I hope you will not depend upon my poor prayers," 
 said the pastor ; " but pray, as did the Master, all night.
 
 TUE STILL SMALL VOICE. 269 
 
 If no answer of peace and promise come, pray till the 
 morning. I feel the inspiration of prayer as I seldom do 
 when no favorable answer is to be given. Lay hold on 
 the mighty arm of God, my friends, wrestle as did Jacob 
 of old, and God will bring it to pass. " The joy of his 
 salvation" might save your daughter. If I sec aright, it 
 is hope deferred, or wounded affection that has prostrated 
 her. Am I right ? Could she see her husband clothed 
 in Christ's righteousness, a new creature in him, with 
 affections purified and elevated, it would, perhaps, prove 
 an elixir of life more potent than all your efforts to save 
 her ; better for her than any remedy prepared by the 
 most skilful practitioner, for ' a wounded spirit who can 
 bear ? ' " 
 
 " She cannot recover," was the united voice of father, 
 brothers, and sisters ; but Winnie caught at the idea 
 with the utmost tenacity. 
 
 " It won't do her any harm," said Mrs. Levering ; 
 " let us pray all of us. If the blessed child can only 
 see him converted, she will die easier ; that will be a 
 comfort." 
 
 Winnie crept away to her little closet, and kneeling, 
 said, tearfully, 
 
 " Dearest Lord, I shall stay here until you tell rno 
 what you will do about uncle Mason, unless they call 
 me. Blessed Spirit, help me, for I don't know how to 
 wrestle, nor 'lay hold by faith.' Help me, for I want 
 my uncle Mason converted. I want you to make him 
 sorry, 0, so sorry, that he can't help asking to be for- 
 given, and then, dear God, forgive him. 0, do, do, 
 Lord. Please to save him, and make auntie so happy 
 that nhe will want to live ; and then make her well, BO
 
 270 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 that little Unre can have her mother to love, for that is 
 better, 0, so ranch better, than anything. 0, make her 
 well, so that she can live in her nice new house, and be 
 happy with uncle and all of us. Dear Lord, I don't know 
 how to tell you what I want, but the blessed Holy Spirit 
 knows all about it. lie sees that I want my uncle Ma- 
 son to come to Jesus and see, as that other blind man 
 did. Auntie said, ' that he could see ! ' Make him 
 see, Lord ; don't let him go, but make him see and be- 
 lieve in Jesus." 
 
 Thus the child prayed on, weeping, and asking over 
 and over again, until, weary, she paused in her prayer, 
 saying, 
 
 " I can't say any more about it now, dear Jesus : 
 won't you see to him ? " and dropped asleep. 
 
 Mrs. Lovering looked into the child's room, and found 
 her there, still upon her knees her head resting on the 
 hard stool her cheek still wet with tears. 
 
 " The spirit was willing," she said to Mr. Lovering, 
 " but the flesh was weak. Just you come and see a sight 
 you may never in your life see again." 
 
 " The dear child has been wrestling," said grandpa, 
 as he raised her carefully in his arms and laid her on the 
 bed. She roused a little, and murmured, " Dear Jesus, 
 don't let him go." 
 
 " What if she has prevailed ! " said grandpa, looking 
 at his wife. 
 
 " What if she has ? " was the reply " why, we will 
 thank the Lord, to be sure. But it can't be ; it seems 
 impossible that he should be converted." 
 
 "Nothing is impossible with God; otherwise I should 
 think him given over," said Mr. Lovering. " But that
 
 THE STILL SMALL VOICE. 271 
 
 child's zeal for God shames me, Lizzie. She will far 
 outstrip us in the Christian race, if we don't wake up." 
 
 " I know it," was the reply ; "it is high time we were 
 up and doing. And now, my dear, I want to tell you 
 that I think one stumbling-block is taken out of the way, 
 and we can run the race more swiftly. I mean the ban- 
 ishment of all kinds of spirits as a beverage. Now, I 
 think the blessed Holy Spirit don't want to live in the 
 same place with one of Satan's engines of swift destruc- 
 tion don't you think so ? I think the church ought 
 to arise, and shake herself clear of that sin ; and she will 
 have to before the gospel will run and be glorified." 
 
 " Yes, I think we have been blind in that regard 
 wilfully so, I fear, 1 am determined to clear my skirts 
 of that sin ; but I am afraid I have waked up too late to 
 save Charles. He thinks he can't work without it." 
 
 " I should think he saw a living epistle of the effects 
 of it when Morgan was here," said Mrs. Loveriug ; 
 " how he has changed ! " 
 
 " Yes, he was a noble fellow. It pains me to think 
 how often he has taken a social glass with me," said her 
 husband. " He has fallen low enough, while I am saved. 
 By .the blessing of God I am what I am ; and by the 
 same power I mean to be more consistent." 
 
 " I am glad you feel so," was the reply. " I feel just 
 so, too. But you must go to sleep, or you will be sick, 
 as sure as can be." 
 
 " Why, how came I in bed with my clothes on ? " 
 thought Winnie. " I must have got up in my sleep, and 
 put tlicm on. I am glad I went to bed again, and didn't 
 get out of the window, or ixiiything. I wonder if grand-
 
 272 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 pa will let me go with him to tell uncle Mason. I almost 
 love him now. I guess it won't bo so hard to love him 
 as I thought it would. For her sake," she said, " I must 
 love him, and for Christ's sake, forgive him ; that is it. 
 Mrs. Payson 0, no ! I forgot grandmother, can I go 
 with grandpa ? I want to tell uncle Mason something." 
 
 " Yes, dear, I guess so. I'll ask him. You look pale : 
 are you well ? " 
 
 " 0, yes, indeed ; I feel nicely : my heart is as light as 
 can be. I guess lie is going to save him, uncle Mason 
 I mean, and perhaps auntie will live, after all. Do 
 people ever get well when the doctor says they can't, 
 grandma ? I shall speak to you pretty often, now I can 
 call you that," she said, smiling brightly. 
 
 " Do ; I like to have you. I never had a grandchild 
 of my own." 
 
 " Well, you have got some own children, and grand- 
 children too, now haven't you, grandmother ? " 
 
 " Well, I hope they will. own me. And I am pretty 
 sure folks get well, sometimes, when the doctors say they 
 can't, and die, too, when they say they won't. 0, I 
 know that too well," she said, sadly. " They said my 
 Lizzie was in no danger, and my Lydia might get well ; 
 but they died, both of them. And there was my Samuel; 
 he lay in a d} r ing condition three days, with the fever ; 
 but he got well, and is married, you know : so we can't 
 tell." 
 
 Winnie was allowed to accompany her grandfather, 
 and found her uncle just as he had uttered the wish 
 that was a prayer wrung from an awakened heart. 
 
 " Uncle Mason," she said, running eagerly to his side, 
 " Cume ; auntie wants you. Grandpa and I have come
 
 THE STILL SMALL VOICE. 273 
 
 for you. He was married last night ; and we are all 
 going to love you now : auntie made us promise. She 
 said you didn't mean to make her sick ; you didn't know 
 how she felt. 0, you are feeling badly ; well I am 
 glad no, I mean I hope you will be better." 
 
 He had stood half bewildered while Winnie was talking. 
 
 " She wants me she wants them to forgive me," he 
 mused. A little while since, and he would have been 
 angry ; but now he is humbled. " Winnie," he said, as 
 he sat upon a log, " I do feel badly. I am a wretched 
 man. Your aunt is going to die," he shuddered, 
 " and I know, now, that I killed her ; yes, killed her 
 slowly. You know how hard and unfeeling I was ; and 
 when she felt badly, I thought she was foolish, and I was 
 angry. I believe I was possessed. What do I care for 
 that pile of fine buildings, now, child ? " he said, fiercely. 
 " They were my gods. I thought your aunt ought to be 
 happy in such a place. Now I have learned their value. 
 I live here, but I am not happy, and never can be again." 
 
 He covered his face and groaned. Winnie felt fright- 
 ened. 
 
 " 0, I didn't want him to feel so dreadfully," she 
 thought. " Dear Lord, help him to see the other side. 
 0, do ! " . Tears came into her eyes. " I wish aunt Hes- 
 ter was here," she said. " She would tell you about the 
 goodness of God, and how you must go to him and con- 
 fess your sins, and he would forgive you for Christ's 
 sake. I asked him, and he forgave my sins." 
 
 " You, Winnie," he said, " you have sins ? What were 
 they '{ It wasn't much to forgive your sins ; they were 
 nothing compared with mine." 
 
 " 0, well, that don't make a bit of difference ; we 
 18
 
 214 HESTKH STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 can't go to heaven without a new heart, and God can 
 forgive a great sinner just as well as he can a little one. 
 But I was a dreadful sinner, uncle. I didn't love God, 
 and I didn't want to stay where he put me. 0, 1 was as 
 bad as you. But my verse says, ' Though your sins be 
 as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow.' I repented, 
 and he forgave me all. He gave me peace when I be- 
 lieved on his Son Jesus Christ ; and now I feel happy, 
 almost always." 
 
 Mr. Giles had raised his head and listened. 
 
 " Winnie," he said, " do you think that I could be 
 happy even if rny sins were forgiven after I had 
 killed my wife, and done so wickedly ? No, never ! 
 You hadn't much to forgive," he said, almost savagely. 
 " I tell you my sins can't be blotted out in a lifetime, 
 no, nor through all eternity. Lost ! lost ! " he cried, 
 bitterly ; " sold unto sin." 
 
 Winnie went close up to the unhappy man, her fear all 
 gone, and laying her hand on his, she said, 
 
 " Dear uncle Mason, ' whosoever believeth on the Lord 
 Jesus Christ shall be saved.' Why can't you believe on 
 him, when he is so very lovely, and he loves you so ? I 
 will say that pretty hymn, 
 
 'Just as I am, without one pica, 
 
 Save tbat thy blood was shed for me, 
 
 And that thou bidd'st me come to thee, 
 
 O Lamb of God I I come ! I come ! ' 
 
 Can't you say that, uncle Mason ? 0, it is so easy ! I 
 want you to come to Jesus first, and then go to auntie. 
 Perhaps she will live when she knows you love her ; and 
 if you love Jesus, you will love everybody."
 
 LIGHT IN DARKLESS. 275 
 
 " Where is he, child ? " said the distressed man ; 
 " where is he ? I can't find him. He isn't for such 
 as I." 
 
 " He is here," said Winnie, reverently. " He is here. 
 Do you want him ? Come, say it after me in your 
 heart, 
 
 ' Just as I am, without one pica, 
 Dear Lord, I give myself to thee. Amen.' 
 
 Now, if you have said that truly, he will take you, and 
 give you a new heart. But grandpa will think I am gone 
 too long. AVill you go to auntie now ? she wants you/' 
 
 " 1 will come soon. Did you say she might live, if I 
 loved her ? Tell her I am not fit to love her, but I do. 
 0, if she can only be spared, I will love the Lord as long 
 as I live, and trust him even until death." 
 
 '' Well," said Winnie, " I knew he would take you if 
 you went to him. You are almost a Christian, so soon ; 
 only you must love the Lord, and let him do just as he 
 pleases. Aunt Hester says he knows what is best for 
 us. The Psalm says, ' Though he slay me, yet will I 
 trust in him.' Mother nsed to say that when she was 
 sick. He did slay her, for it was best," sobbed Winnie ; 
 " but she is in heaven, and don't want to come back. 
 Now try, uncle Mason say the hymn, all of it and 
 pray and wrestle, just as the minister told us to for you, 
 last night. And we did. The Holy Spirit will tell you 
 what to ask for, and perhaps before you go to auntie you 
 can come- to Christ." 
 
 Grandpa, as he sat in his carriage, heard enough of the 
 conversation to satisfy him that the Spirit had begun its 
 work, lie prayed mentally that it might be perfected. 
 When Winnie returned, he asked no questions.
 
 270 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 " He is coming pretty soon," she said ; " but I do hope 
 he will go to Jesus first, for he is feeling dreadfully, and 
 he looks sick, too. Grandpa, I think he will be a Chris- 
 tian." 
 
 " Then they were praying for me last night," mused 
 Mr. Giles. " That is religion is it ? Well, it is a good 
 thing. I wish I was a Christian I do, I do. ' Just as 
 I am ' 0, that is vile enough ; but there is all the more 
 need of my going. ' Just as I am ' well, that is all 
 the way I can go. I can't forgive myself, nor cleanse 
 my soul from guilt. ' Just as I am ' 0, I want to go, 
 and I will, so help me God. 
 
 ' I can but perish if I go ; 
 I am resolved to try ; 
 For if I stay away, I know 
 
 I must forever die.' 
 Yes, 
 
 ' I'll go to Jesus, though my sins 
 
 Have like a mountain rose ; 
 I know his courts, I'll enter in 
 Whatever may oppose.' " 
 
 He sang almost unconsciously as he entered the house to 
 change his dress. Ann looked up in amazement, but said 
 nothing. He had sometimes sung in the choir, but never 
 before in the house ; and a psalm tune, too ! what could 
 it mean ? 
 
 " Prostrate I'll lie before his throne, 
 
 And there my guilt confess ; 
 
 I'll tell him I'm a wretch undone, 
 
 Without his sovereign grace." 
 
 " Crazy, I s'pose," said Ann. " Where are you goin' ? " 
 " No," said he, "I guess not ; I hav.e been all my life.
 
 LIGHT IX DAKKNESS. 277 
 
 Ann, I am going to be different. I want you to forgive 
 me all my unkindness to you. Elevia has sent for me. 
 Don't look for me back till you see me." 
 
 " Dyin' ain't she? Is that w'at makes ye look so 
 'appy all to once ? " 
 
 " No, she isn't dying, and I have a hope that she is 
 going to live ; and if she does, why, I am a happy man ; 
 for if she dies, I have killed her," he said, in a low, 
 solemn voice. " You know it, Ann, just as my father 
 killed another good woman I mean your mother and 
 mine, Ann. And that isn't the worst thing that he did, 
 for she was a Christian, and has gone to heaven ; but, 
 Ann, I see it now ; he killed all the tenderness out of 
 your soul, or soured it, and made a petty tyrant of 
 me. You know it, Ann ; you were abused, but you fought 
 it out and lived you wouldn't bend. But, after all, if 
 he had been your husband, it would have been harder 
 wouldn't it ? " 
 
 Ann sat down as if overcome with sudden faintness. 
 
 " Don't bring it all up agin," she said, with a little 
 quiver in her voice, "don't;" and she reached out her 
 hand as if to put far away some dread object. " I know 
 it ; he killed 'er ; an' I swore I would never forgive 'im, 
 an' I 'oped God wouldn't. I never loved anything agin, 
 an' I won't." 
 
 " That is it, Ann ; I see it now. I have been seeing 
 it more and more, ever since that terrible night. Why, 
 it seems to me I have been blind all my life. What a 
 mercy that I didn't kill that child ! " 
 
 "I thought ye'd do it," was the reply ; " but she'd 
 been "better off. I wish 'at somebody'd killed me when 
 I was born I do. I hain't seen nothin' but trouble,
 
 278 
 
 HESTER STRONG'S LIKE WORK. 
 
 nor done nothin' but grow wuss and wuss an' shan't. 
 Don't say nothin' to me 'bout forgiveness I shan't usk 
 for it. I shan't forgive yer father ; an' I shan't ask for 
 nothin' I won't give," she said, as Mason spoke of the 
 goodness of God, and his willingness to forgive sins. 
 He looked at her pityingly, as he said, 
 
 " I don't wonder you can't forgive him. I ought to 
 .have known better, and taken her part. She was a kind 
 mother wasn't she, Ann? I can't forgive myself for 
 not treating her more respectfully. I was young when 
 she died wasn't I ? But I must go ; Elevia will be 
 looking for me. Get Envena to come and stay with you, 
 if I don't get home. I want to watch with Elevia if they 
 will let me."
 
 BITTER MEMORIES. 279 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 BITTER MEMORIES. WELCOME NEWS. LOVE REWARDED. 
 ELEVIA SAVED. 
 
 ANN looked after Mason, in blank amazement, as he 
 rode away, shading her eyes with her hand, and peering 
 around the corner of the house, to make sure that he 
 was really going to Mr. Lovering's. " Sunthin's got 
 into 'im,' ; she muttered ; " goin' to die, likely as not. 
 He was a pooty little feller, and mother sot 'er eyes by 
 'im. 0, Lordy, Lordy ! I never meant to think on 'er 
 agin never." She swayed her body back and forth 
 like a reed shaken in the wind, and moaned aloud, " 
 Lordy, she wanted me to promise to meet 'er in 'eaven ! 
 Well, I didn't ; I was cryin' : she thought I couldn't 
 speak. I ain't cried since, 'ardly, an' never meant to 
 agin. There, I'm a fool ! " she said, brushing a tear 
 from her eye, spitefully. " Ketch me cryin' agin ; 
 'twon't bring 'er back, nor make me young an' 'appy 
 agin, nor take away this millstone out o' my 'cart. I 
 'ate 'im, an' I mean to 'ate him so there ! " She arose 
 and busied herself about the house, struggling to over- 
 come the feelings which Mason's words and his altered 
 manner had aroused; "I've fit it out so fur," she 
 thought; "I'll fight it all out. I never knuckled, an' 
 1 won't, to to She was about to say "to God 
 nor man ; " but the impious thought startled her. She
 
 280 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 cowered and trembled before the unseen awful presence 
 for a moment, and then continued, " I'll 'ave to knuckle 
 before 'ira, any 'ow ; but I'll wait till I 'ave to." 
 
 "What has come over me?" said Mason Giles, as 
 he rode along. " I feel easy and calm. My sins don't 
 feel so heavy. Did I really go to Christ did I ? And 
 did he receive me me, such an incorrigible sinner, so 
 hateful in my own eyes and in the eyes of God and 
 man ? Why, it can't be possible ! Why, I only waited 
 a moment at the door of mercy. I did go, I believe, 
 with all my heart, and I cried one long, bitter cry, for I 
 thought I should die. My sins seemed weighing me 
 down, down to despair. Can it be that I had only to go 
 to him and be healed? Then blessed, thrice blessed, 
 be the name of the Lord. I will praise him while I live, 
 and trust him when I die. I didn't deserve it no, no ; 
 it is all of grace all of grace. Hester must know 
 this, for she saved me from an awful crime. Dear little 
 Unie, those cruel blows I gave you in my madness sank 
 into my soul! The image of Elcvia, stretching out her 
 little pale arms to me, saying, ' Forgive me, Mason ! ' 
 I tremble to think how hardened I was. It is nothing 
 but grace, free grace, that has removed the burden of 
 guilt." He put the reins over his arm, took out his 
 pocket-book, and removed the writing Hester had given 
 him, and read it over and over again. " It was Mason 
 Giles that extorted that writing was it ? I am 
 ashamed and humiliated. What was I thinking of? 
 Why, how much that sounds like a miserly heathen, as I 
 was ! God, break once and forever this chain of 
 selfish avarice, which has bound me, hand and foot ! " 
 
 " There is Mason Giles driving up to the door," said
 
 \VELCOME NEWS. 281 
 
 Martha, as she caught up the cradle in which little Unie 
 was sleeping, and bustled into grandpa's room, and 
 locked the door. 
 
 "What can he want?" said Hester to little Fostina 
 " what can he want, darling? You and auntie will 
 go and see won't we, darling ? " 
 
 " Um," said the little one, smiling. "Artie Fossie, 
 go see." Hester did not wait for him to knock at the 
 door, but met him at the gate. She was calm exter- 
 nally ; but her heart beat, and her limbs trembled. 
 She nodded ; but he reached out his hand cordially. 
 Hester looked into his face, and felt more puzzled than 
 ever as she reached out her reluctant hand. " You 
 feel suspicious of me," he said, in a broken voice. 
 " I should blame you if you did not. You ought not 
 to trust me. How is little Unie ? I won't ask to see 
 her. But, Hester, I called to thank you for saving me 
 from the crime of murder, and snatching my child from 
 death. Here is that shameful paper I extorted from 
 you. I don't ask for the one I gave you. If you ever 
 see the time when you can forgive and trust me, why, 
 give it to me not till then." Hester sank down on a 
 large stone by the gate, greatly agitated. As she did so, 
 Martha, who was looking from the window, exclaimed, 
 
 " What now, father? What do you suppose he is 
 saying ? Hester is all overcome. I wonder if Elevia is 
 dead. Mason looks changed. I wish I knew what it 
 all means." 
 
 " Wait, child," was his reply as he tottled to see for 
 himself. Hester sat there, still bewildered. 
 
 "I can't understand it," said she. "Mason, am I 
 dreaming ? What is it ? What does all this mean ? "
 
 282 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 " It moans that the Lord has been dealing with me ; 
 it just seemed as if the Almighty hand had been placed 
 firmly upon me : I could not shake it off. 0, Ilester, 
 it v.-as a terrible conflict ; no one but God will ever know 
 how awful ! " 
 
 "What gave you relief?" said Hester, as she arose 
 and went close up to him. " What changed you so, 
 Mason ? ;; 
 
 " Grace, free grace," was the joyful reply. " Little 
 Winnie came with Mr. Levering to tell me Elevia wished 
 to see me. She found me distressed beyond measure, 
 and insisted upon my going to Christ. I can't tell you 
 what I felt or suffered in the few moments she was there. 
 It seemed a long time to me. I know not how long it 
 was. She seemed to compel me to go to the door of 
 mercy just as I was. ' Lord, have mercy on me ! ' I 
 cried ' on me, who am worse than the chief of sin- 
 ners.' He heard me, I hope, and saved me from despair. 
 But I must go to Elevia. Forgive me, if you can. I 
 don't ask you to trust me." He held out his hand. 
 Hester took it, and said, " Truly, goodness and mercy 
 shall follow me all the days of my life, for mino eyes 
 have seen the salvation of one who was lost. Welcome 
 to my Father's house welcome. No longer feed on 
 husks which the swine do eat, but feed on the bread of 
 life. Mason, I have prayed for this, because I promised 
 her I would ; but my prayers were faithless. I could 
 not feel that they reached the throne. But God is good ; 
 give all the glory to him. Break the news carefully to 
 Elevia : great joy might kill her." 
 
 " Is that so, Hester ? How ignorant I am ! What 
 shall I do ? " He looked thoughtful and perplexed.
 
 LOVE REWARDED. ' 283 
 
 " I don't know how you will manage," was the reply. 
 " You must ask God to guide you : that you will have 
 to do in all things." 
 
 " J will ask him," was the reverent reply. " I will 
 trust him. Pray for me while I am gone. I feel as if 
 she were going to be spared." 
 
 "Poor man!" sighed Hester; "he will be disap- 
 pointed in that. This has come too late to save her 
 life. Poor man ! " 
 
 "Is Saul also among the prophets?" said Martha, 
 when Hester had relieved her mind by telling her what 
 the reader already knows. 
 
 " Yes," said Hester, with tears of gratitude in her 
 eyes, " and the scales have fallen from the eyes of Saul 
 the persecutor. Martha, I thank God that Paul left his 
 experience for our encouragement. It helps me to be- 
 lieve in Mason's conversion. I feel rebuked for my want 
 of faith. Why, I didn't believe the grace of God. even, 
 could change that man so 1 I want you to see him, he 
 looks so different. 0, it is wonderful ! I have faith in 
 his conversion. God grant he may not be deceived, and 
 deceiving us ! " 
 
 " Well, if Mason is really a Christian, and holds out 
 to the end, I will never be so faithless again," said 
 Martha. " I thought he, at least, was given over. I 
 never could pray for his conversion." 
 
 " Child," said grandpa, "hasn't he promised to save 
 all that come unto him, even to the uttermost? Don't 
 be so faithless, Martha. Nothing is too hard for God." 
 When Winnie, in her simple, child-like way, had told her 
 grandmother all she knew about uncle Mason, the little 
 woman was all astir with expectation.
 
 284 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 " Why," said she, "I don't believe it no, I don't 
 mean that, Winnie ; but it doesn't seem possible ! What 
 will Elevia say ? Dear child, she isn't expecting it is 
 she ? Won't it kill her if it comes all at once ? What 
 shall I do ? I wish Hester was here." 
 
 " God is here, and Jesus is here," said Winnie, tim- 
 idly. " Why don't you ask him, grandma ? " 
 
 " I will, this blessed moment. If his coming to life 
 should kill her, it would be sad enough. You say he 
 prayed that she might live ? " 
 
 " Yes, I called it a prayer. He didn't kneel or say 
 ' Amen ; ' but he folded his hands tight, so, and said, 
 '0, if God will only spare her, I will love him as long 
 as I live, and trust him when I die ! ' He said it like an 
 earnest prayer, grandma." 
 
 ' Well, child, I think it was : for prayer is desire, 
 spoken or unexpressed." Mrs. Lovering came back 
 soon, saying, " Why, child, he told me what to do al- 
 most before I asked him. Run, child no, don't run ; 
 but go quietly, and tell her he is feeling badly about 
 his sins, and says he is going to do better. Tell it a 
 little at a time, dear; be careful." 
 
 - " Yes, I will," said Winnie, as she went with her little 
 heart fluttering like a caged bird. " Grandpa and I have 
 been for uncle Mason, auntie," said she ; " he is coming 
 pretty soon." 
 
 " Is he ? " said the sick one, languidly. " Winnie, did 
 you know I had given him all up ? The distress is all 
 gone. I heard you pray last night, dear, in your little 
 closet, right at my head. 0, so earnestly ! My heart 
 went out with every word I could hear at first. Then 
 came a strange, sweet peace, as if your prayer was 
 really answered."
 
 LOVE REWARDED. 285 
 
 " Did you hear me, auntie ? Why, I did not think 
 yon could. Have you always heard ? I thought no 
 one but God heard me in there.' 7 Winnie seemed dis- 
 concerted. 
 
 " It was all right, dear. I thank you for that prayer, 
 although I could not hear it all. I knew that you were 
 praj-ing for poor Mason, and it lifted the burden from 
 my soul." Winnie remained silent a white, and then 
 said, 
 
 " Uncle is sorry he has been so wicked. He loves 
 you, auntie, and wants you to get well. I think he is 
 seeking Christ." Elcvia had raised her head from the 
 pillow as if fearful that she should not hear every word. 
 
 " Say it again, little comforter, say it again." 
 
 " I think he is seeking Christ, and will find him. 
 But you must lie down and be very quiet, or you can't 
 see uncle when he comes." 
 
 " Seeking Christ," said Elevia "wants me to live. 
 Winnie, don't deceive me. I know you don't mean to ; 
 but if it is true, can I can I bear to die?" She 
 pressed her hands tightly over her face. " Lord, 
 could I say it, then ? Could I say, ' Thy will be 
 done ' ? " 
 
 " Yes, auntie," said Winnie, hurriedly, " I think you 
 could. He could help you say it, if he wanted you to 
 go ; but perhaps he will let you live. Grandma says she 
 has known people to get well when every one thought 
 they were going' to die." 
 
 " Well," said Elevia, " I will try to trust him. He 
 doeth all things well. All is well. I will lie here and 
 wait, and sec what the Lord will do for me and mine. 
 And. Winnie, couldn't you just pray here, a little
 
 236 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 prayer, that I might endure to the end ? 0, do ! Pray 
 that I may have peace and strength." Winnie prayed ; 
 the words were i'ew and broken, but they brought rest to 
 the excited invalid. " I can bear it now," said she, 
 looking up with a smile. 
 
 " Shall I go out when uncle comes ? " said Winnie. 
 ' " Yes, dear, I think you had better. But don't go 
 farther than your closet, Winnie. If I want you, I will 
 speak." Mrs. Lovering fluttered about like a bird in a 
 plum tree, when Mr. Giles drove up to the door. She 
 looked through the blinds, and tried to read his face. 
 It was sad, very, and pale, and his step, she thought, 
 faltered. She pitied him. 
 
 "He must be thinking of all those wicked actions," 
 she thought, as she met him at the door, and held out 
 her hand. He shook it cordially, but seemed agitated. 
 
 " I will show you right up to Elevia's room," she said, 
 " if you can be culm. I guess you can. You won't 
 have to say much, for Winnie has prepared her for it all. 
 Mr. Giles, I am so glad you feel different ! it will be such 
 a comfort ! We are all glad. Go in, and if she wants 
 me, speak right at the head of the stairs." 
 
 " Will she bear it? " said he, speaking low and fast. 
 
 " 0, yes, I think so ; only be calm." They looked 
 into each other's faces for a moment, when Elevia, again 
 reaching out her arms, exclaimed, 
 
 " Dear Mason, I am so glad, so glad ! " lie took the 
 pale, cold hands in his, as he whispered, 
 
 " Elevia, my wife, my poor, poor wife, forgive me. 
 Can you forgive me ? I have seen rny sin and folly." 
 lie folded his arms about her, and wept. " I shall kill 
 you, after all," he said, raising his head, and looking at 
 her, wondering that she was so very, very still.
 
 ELEVIA SAVED. 281 
 
 " No, Mason ; I am happy too happy to speak. Can 
 it be, can it be, that you love me ? I thought I should 
 bo willing to die if you would only love me ; but now it 
 would be sweet to live," she said, clasping her arms 
 about his neck. " God, help me to still say, ' Thy 
 will be done ! ' " 
 
 " Hush ! you are not to die. God will spare you. 
 I feel it ; I have felt it ever since I cried for mercy and 
 was heard. You will live to let me atone for the past, 
 to win back the confidence I have forfeited. You will 
 live to help me conquer the evil demon that has pos- 
 sessed me, to bless your father, and take care of our 
 baby." He used to call it hers. She looked up into his 
 i'acc tearfully, and said, " Mason, I fear this cannot be. 
 See how emaciated I am see." 
 
 " Yes, I see," said he, taking the thin hand in his. 
 " Elevia, I think these little emaciated arms helped to 
 convict rnc, when you reached them out to me, and said, 
 ' Mason, forgive me.' Ah, Elevia, I was lost ! but I 
 trust, by the grace of God, I arn found ! I shall nurse 
 you day and night ', you shall have everything that 
 money can buy anything. For, since I really believed 
 I must lose you, I have felt that life is nothing without 
 you." 
 
 "But, Mason," she said, "I shall be nothing but a 
 baby, worse than ever, for a long time ; it will wear you 
 all out." 
 
 " I think not, Elevia. I know I shall be clumsy and 
 awkward ; but I feel as if I just wanted you to be a 
 bub}', and let mo tend you. I used to want to when wo 
 were lirst married ; but I thought it would be weak and 
 foolish. That was the way I felt about Uuie ; but I
 
 288 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 thought it would be silly and womanish to love her, and 
 I stifled it all, Lcvie. I stifled it all until I really 
 thought I disliked her, and you, too. 0, but for your 
 sickness I should have gone on from bad to worse ! But 
 I am talking too much." 
 
 " No, no," she said ; " go on. It makes me feel stronger 
 to see you. Can't you just take me in your arms a 
 moment ? Call mother." Mr. Giles started. 
 
 " Why, you don't call her that do you ? " 
 
 " Yes, I call her mother. She likes to have me, and 
 I like to. It pleases father. lie has been a good father 
 to me. Mason, can't you love him for my sake ? If you 
 would only call him father, it would help to unite you." 
 
 " I will," was the reply. Mrs. Levering came at the 
 first call. She looked eagerly at the sick one. She was 
 no worse that was plain; and something in her face 
 made her think, ' She is saved.' Together they raised 
 the invalid, and placed her in the arms of the husband. 
 She lay there contentedly, as a weary child in its mother's 
 bosom. Winnie slept that night grandpa, grandma, 
 aiint Judith all slept, leaving the sick one with the re- 
 pentant husband, who, if awkward, was very tender, and 
 quite acceptable to the invalid.
 
 THE DAY OF MIRACLES. 289 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 THE DAY OP MIRACLES, OR MR. GILES AND MR. LOVER- 
 ING MADE FRIENDS. 
 
 NOT " llcrod and Pilate," but Mr. Lovering and Mr. 
 Giles, " were made friends that day," as Mr. Giles con- 
 fessed his faults, and told him of his new hopes, and of 
 his determination to lead a different life. 
 
 " I shall stumble often," he said, humbly ; " but with 
 Christ for my Saviour, and Levie for my helper, I think 
 I shall be able to overcome at last. Father, if you will 
 let me call you so, I have enjoyed more in these few 
 days, which have been spent in my wife's sick room, 
 than ever before in my life. But I have some terribly 
 stubborn enemies to overcome I mean selfishness and 
 avarice. These are a part of myself. Other sins have 
 sprung from these false, deceitful roots. Shall I ever 
 overcome them ? " he said, sadly. 
 
 " The grace of God is sufficient for all our necessities, 
 my son," said Mr. Lovering, taking him warmly by the 
 hand. " I thank my God that you are hoping in his 
 mercy, and, as I hope and believe, are a regenerated, 
 changed man. But regeneration is not sanctification. 
 You have a conflict before you, a race to run, a victory 
 to obtain. Look to Jesus, my son. He is the Author 
 and l'iuis!i:'i- of our faith. Look to Jesus, and go fin-wan! ; 
 seek, ami yon shall obtain help in every time of trouble. 
 19 "
 
 290 HKSTEB STRONG'S LIFE WOIUv. 
 
 But there is one thing- I wish to caution you against. 
 Don't spend your time in vain regrets for the past. Im- 
 prove and enjoy the present ; so shall you be prepared 
 for the futui'e in this life and that which is to come. God 
 bless you, and help us both to be wiser and better men. 
 I scarcely realize that Elevia, the dear child, is to be 
 given back to us. Let us not be too sanguine ; it may 
 not be, after all." 
 
 " Why," said Mr. Giles, " brother Edward (it was the 
 first time he had called him 'brother') thinks she may. 
 Don't you see, she is stronger, takes more nourishment, 
 and sleeps better ? " 
 
 " That is favorable," said the father " all favorable. 
 But consumption is so deceptive, and I have so entirely 
 given her up ! " 
 
 " That is it," said Mr. Giles, earnestly ; " you saw 
 how low she was, and gave her up, long before I thought 
 she was much sick ; that makes the difference. To be 
 sure, she does look poorer and paler lor a day or two ; 
 but Edward says that is not bad. Cornc, you must not 
 be as loath to believe her better as I was to believe her 
 sick. How you must have despised me ! " 
 
 " And you must not so constantly refer to the past," 
 said Mr. Levering. " Forget it as much as possible. I 
 believe you have seen your mistakes, and are trying to 
 rectify them ; so don't dwell upon them." 
 
 " That is what Elevia tells me," was the reply. " But 
 you must let me look into the old volume a little, until I 
 am confirmed in the faith, and established in the new 
 life." Mrs. Levering smiled as Mr. (Jiles returned from 
 a foraging expedition, with raisins, figs, dates, and wine, 
 and dolefully exclaimed,
 
 THE DAY OF MIRACLES. 291 
 
 " The very things I wanted most for her are not to be 
 had grapes and peaches. I told Mr. Trueman to got 
 them for her at any price. Edward says there is noth- 
 ing so good for her. It is too bad ! " 
 
 " 0, well," was the reply, " he will get them for her 
 
 in a day or two. But why don't you ride over to T , 
 
 and get some of my son ? He has a hot-house. He 
 wrote me some time ago that he should have grapes 
 from then until Christmas ; and as likely as not he has 
 early peaches." 
 
 " Why, I never thought of it! I'll ride over ; I can 
 get back before night." He went into the sick room, 
 noisily, to be sure ; he was not used to it ; but he went 
 lovingly, and it was no matter. His step was like music 
 to the sick one, and his love was the very elixir needed 
 to send the life-blood coursing through the veins, slowly, 
 at first, but surely, until the wasted energies were re- 
 stored sufficiently to take a firmer stand. 
 
 " I make you a sight of trouble," she said, as he took 
 leave of her ; " but I shall be better by and by. I think 
 the grapes will help me." 
 
 " Don't think of the trouble," he said ; " if I can get 
 you well, it is enough ; " and he kissed her good by. 
 " I wonder if I am really the same man," he thought as 
 ho rode along, mind and heart full of gratitude. " I 
 wonder if I am Mason Giles, who always thought these 
 little attentions and affectionate ways foolish and child- 
 ish, especially to wives. 0, father, would that I could 
 show you your sin and folly ! But I cannot ; nothing 
 but the power of God can show you how much you art; 
 losing, how much suffering you are bringing upon others, 
 how much injury you are doing. I can pniy for you ;
 
 292 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 that is all ; for I verily believe you would knock me 
 down, or throw the first thing you could lay your hand 
 on at me, if I should speak to you about it ever so kind- 
 ly. Well, I wouldn't go back to the old life for the 
 whole world ; for I have never been happy in it, and I 
 think that very unhappiness, that dissatisfied feeling, 
 which I have always had, has caused most of my fretting 
 at Elevia. Dear child, I wonder she can confide in me 
 so soon. How I have made her suffer ! I can't help 
 thinking it over, unpleasant as it is. I suppose these 
 sad reflections are the legitimate fruits of my sin, just 
 as much as peace and joy are the fruits of righteousness. 
 How the old burden comes back again ! Father Lover- 
 ing is right. I must ' pray without ceasing.' But I sup- 
 pose I had better not look back too much, but ' press 
 forward.' ' 
 
 " Is this the day of miracles ? " said Hester, as she 
 called to see for herself, " or am I dreaming ? Elevia is 
 certainly better a little better. How satisfied she 
 looks ! " 
 
 " Yes," said Mrs. Lovering, " I see it. I think she 
 will live. But she will be months getting up, blessed 
 lamb ! But that don't puzzle me half so much as the 
 change in Mason. Just you look here now. See all 
 these figs, and raisins, and things. What shall I do 
 with them ? " 
 
 " That is just like a man not used to sickness," said 
 Hester, laughing. " And then we poor mortals always 
 go from one extreme to the other. We swing back and 
 forth like a pendulum when you strike it a smart rap, 
 until, after a while, it swings about right. But I don't 
 know what to think." She was silent a short time.
 
 TIIE DAY OF MIRACLES. 293 
 
 " Lizzie, love is a powerful agent. It kills sometimes," 
 she said, with a strange smile ; " it kills. And now we 
 see that it makes alive ; that is, if Elovia lives, it will. 
 Nothing else could have saved her. 0, what a wonder- 
 ful gift it is, but dangerous, if used carelessly or thought- 
 lessly. Lizzie, you remember Horace." She waited for 
 no reply, but went on. " If I could have known of 
 Mehitable Sharp's perfidy in season " She buried her 
 face in her hands for a moment, while her whole frame 
 shook with emotion. Mrs. Lovering sat motionless, 
 wondering if Hester's affection had been so strong as to 
 outlive all these years. " Why, I supposed she had got 
 over it, she is always so cheerful," she thought. Hes- 
 ter raised her head soon, saying, with another of those 
 strange, sad smiles, 
 
 "Lizzie, if I had known, I might have saved him. 
 Religion saved me. There, don't speak of this. I came 
 to rejoice with you all, and not to weep for myself; that 
 is the best medicine for a wounded spirit. I must not 
 stop to weep or repine, but do with my might what my 
 hands find to do, that I may be all ready when the 
 Master calls." 
 
 " That woman deserves to be hung," said Mrs. Lover- 
 ing, impulsively, " to make you suffer all this time I 
 Why, I well, I know I am not as good as you are, I 
 couldn't forgive her, nor do as you have done." 
 
 " By the grace of God, I am what I am," was the 
 low rojply. " I do not 'hate her ; but as, day by day, I 
 draw nearer to eternity, nearer to God and Horace, I pity 
 her. May God have mercy on her. How can she dare 
 to meet the judgment, with her sins like a millstone 
 about her neck ? " Winnie was delighted to see aunt
 
 294: HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 Hester, she was so happy ! Uncle Mason and annt Elevia 
 were saved ; she felt sure of it. " And now/'' she said, 
 "there is but one great burden left my /a'.Vv," she 
 whispered. " But I don't try to carry it alone ; it is 
 too heavy. I have given it to Jesus, and lie carries it 
 most. all the time now." 
 
 " That is right, dear," said Hester ; " I am glad for 
 you. But you are looking pale, and must come home 
 and play and romp with the children, or you will get 
 sick." 
 
 "But, auntie," was the quick reply, "do Christians 
 play ? I am a Christian, I hope." 
 
 " I hope so, dear ; but you are a child also. Play, 
 amusement, recreation of the right kind, is not sinful. 
 Children should play, and run, and rejoice in their youth. 
 You know there is a time for all things, Winnie, and 
 whatsoever we do we should do for the glory of God." 
 
 " How can I glorify him playing ? " said the child, 
 with a puzzled look. 
 
 " 0, you can strengthen your body, which is his, pre- 
 serve your health, and make those about you happy. 
 The little lambs and kittens play, and praise God in that 
 way as well as they can. Do you understand ? " 
 
 " Yes, I think I do ; but I don't feel much like play- 
 ing now. I had rather praise him by praying." 
 
 " Well, dear, pray till you feel like playing, then." 
 Hester saw that the child was suffering from her con- 
 finement to the sick room, and was sadly needing rest. 
 She was becoming morbidly sensitive. Her childhood 
 had been crushed, cruelly crushed. " I must find some 
 way to take her home," she said to Martha, "or- she 
 will be sick."
 
 THE DAY OF MIRACLES. 295 
 
 " I know it," said Martha, thoughtfully. " Suppose 
 I go over and stay to help them, and let Winnie come 
 home a while. Playing with the children will be just the 
 thing for her." 
 
 "That will do," said Hester; " but we must let her 
 stay a day or two longer, until Elevia takes a fair start 
 in the way to health. It will be a long road, poor 
 child ! " 
 
 " How funny it seems to have you feeding me ! " said 
 Elevia, as she looked up in her husband's face with a 
 smile. * " Those grapes are very nice, but it does seem 
 to me they taste better from your hand. It is so strange 
 and pleasant ! 0, how glad I am I can live some 
 longer ! How happy we shall be, now that we know 
 how to live ! " A tear came into the husband's eye as 
 he looked into the pale, thin, but happy face, and thought 
 of the past. 
 
 " I hope you will not be sorry that I live," said Elevia, 
 as she saw the sad expression. 
 
 " Don't speak in that way don't, if you love me. 
 What would life be without you ? I was thinking of the 
 change in you since I took you from your home, so full 
 of life and joy, and how I brought you back broken- 
 hearted, suffering, almost dying, and left you so coldly, 
 without dreaming I " 
 
 " 0, Mason," was the tearful reply, as she laid her 
 hand pleadingly over his mouth, " dear Mason, don't 
 look back look forward. It is all over now. You 
 didn't understand me how could you ? I was to blame, 
 too." 
 
 " I don't know how or when you were to blame 
 though I blamed you then. But this subject pains you ;
 
 296 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 we will drop it. Take another grape, while I say, once 
 for all time, I thauk you, Elcvia, for not submitting to 
 ray unreasonableness. I should have been as great a 
 tyrant as father, if you had. I should never have been 
 happy, nor let my family be happy. Under God you 
 have saved me. I shudder to think of the yoke I have 
 escaped ; so let us thank God and take courage. But 
 don't expect me to be perfect will you ? I am so dif- 
 ferent from you and your family ! That was why I didn't 
 like them did you know it ? They were a standing 
 rebuke to me ; but now they shall be my example." 
 
 " Let Christ be our Example, our Leader, the Captain of 
 our salvation, my dear husband," was the fervent reply. 
 " I long to be well and strong again, so that I can realize 
 the dream of my girlhood, in my own house, with my 
 own dear husband. I long to show you what a good little 
 wife I shall be, now that I have you to love and lean 
 upon. How happy we shall be with little Unie ! 0, you 
 will love her so, now that you don't shut your heart 
 against her ! You will have a family altar won't you, 
 Mason ? How pleasant our home will be ! Our friends 
 will love to visit us. Won't it be delightful ? " 
 
 " It will," was the abstracted reply. He was wonder- 
 ing how such a sinner as he had been should ever erect 
 an altar of praise in his house. What would father say ? 
 What would brother Wiley and Ann say ? His heart 
 failed him. There was a cross. Should he be able to 
 take it up ? He noticed the sad eyes of his wife upon 
 him, and told her of what he had been thinking. 
 
 " It will be a cross," was the reply ; " but Hester says 
 we must never go round a cross, or step over it, but 
 stoop to take it up, and we shall find it easy, blessed 
 work to carry it. So cheer up."
 
 THE DAY OF MIRACLES. 297 
 
 He thought a moment, and then said, hesitatingly, 
 
 " There will be a cross for you, Levie, when you get 
 home. Can you bear it, think ? " 
 
 " Perhaps so : what is it ? I can't bear much now. 
 I see every little thing depresses me, even a sober look 
 on your face. I am so childish, I wonder you all bear 
 with me so patiently." 
 
 "I wonder," said Mason, "that you are not more 
 childish. About the cross : I have been thinking over 
 Ann's past life, and I pity her. She was only a little 
 thing when she came to father's. What a place for a 
 fatherless child to come to ! She was looked upon as an 
 intruder. I was taught to think so. No one loved her 
 but mother ; and she loved mother with a passion you 
 would not think her capable of feeling. I remember how 
 she wept and sobbed when mother died. Father sternly 
 sent her from the room, saying, she was ' enough to raise 
 the dead.' I shall never forget her look as she turned 
 and said, ' Only that you would abuse her so, I would cry 
 until I did wake her up.' He sprang after her with his 
 hand upraised. She darted like a bewildered spirit from 
 the room, exclaiming, ' I'm glad, I'm glad she is dead 
 now you can't beat her any more.' Father muttered 
 a low curse, and left the room." 
 
 " It was a terrible scene over the dead," said Elevia 
 " wasn't it ? Why didn't she leave the family ? " 
 
 " Strangely enough," was the reply, " all the prop- 
 erty belonging to her own father was entirely in my 
 father's hands during his life. How it came so I n-. \er 
 knew. He would never come to any settlement, nor give 
 her anything. Said she might slay there as she had done, 
 if she would behave, which meant that she must be a 
 slave."
 
 298 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 " Poor Ann ! " murmured Elevia ; " what a life to 
 lead." 
 
 " Yes ; you may well say that. From that day a war- 
 fare has been waging between them. Both have fought 
 with a zeal worthy of a better cause ; neither is con- 
 quered. Father can't send her off empty, and she won't 
 go without what belongs to her. And now, as I remem- 
 ber my mother's dying words to me, boy that I was, I 
 want to do something for her, if you consent." 
 
 " What were they ? " said Elevia, eagerly. 
 
 " ' Mason, take care of Ann when you are old enough. 
 You will see how it is,' she whispered ; ' take care of 
 her. You are all she will have left, and she loves you. 
 She is a good girl.' My father entered ; I heard her 
 saying something to him about Ann and the property. 
 lie grew angry, and I left the room. Yes, Elevia, I left 
 the room, bewildered, to be sure, for I loved my mother, 
 but, strangely enough, with the feeling that she had said 
 something wrong to father ; for I thought no one ought 
 to gainsay or withstand him, and this my poor mother had 
 taught me. But I shall tire you all out. I will tell you 
 the rest some other time." 
 
 " No, no ; tell me all now. What can you do for 
 Ann ? I can't rest till I know." 
 
 " Why, I want her to have rooms in our house, and 
 'live in peace the rest of her life, if you consent. ] know 
 how unpleasant it will be for you, and you must count 
 the cost." 
 
 " Mason, Mason," was the quick, nervous call, " do 
 you know what you ask of me ? Could we be happy 
 with her there ? Wouldn't Unie be like her ? 0, 1 wish 
 I knew 1 "
 
 THE DAY OF MIRACLES. 299 
 
 " There, there," said Mr. Giles, alarmed at the excite- 
 ment he had caused ; " be quiet, Elevia. You shan't have 
 her around unless you are willing". I ought not to have 
 spoken of it now." 
 
 " Willing ? 0, I am willing that you should do right. 
 I am ; yes, I hope I am. Poor Ann ! poor Mason ! I am 
 so selfish ! " She wept hysterically. " 0, Mason, you 
 must do right don't mind me." 
 
 " 0, dear," thought Mr. Giles, " I have made a fool- 
 ish blunder now. I wonder if I can ever understand 
 women and children, and sick folks. Elevia," he whis- 
 pered close to her ear, " Elevia, don't cry ; you shall 
 have it all your own way. I am sorry I " 
 
 " Well, you needn't be," was the gentle reply ; " you 
 ought to speak about it. I am sorry I am so selfish. I 
 shall get over it ; and when I am stronger, I shan't give 
 way to my feelings so. I promise you that, if you will 
 put up with it till then." She looked inquiringly into 
 his face. " Will you ?" 
 
 He stooped and kissed her, saying, 
 
 " Yes, indeed ; and when you are stronger, perhaps 
 you will stoop to take the cross, and find it lighter than 
 you think. If not, I shall put it out of your way." 
 
 " No, you shan't," she said, smiling through her tears ; 
 " that won't do. If God don't remove it, I shall take it 
 up. Ann shall stay if he wills it so. But I am wasting 
 precious strength. Kiss me again, and then soothe my 
 head so that I can sleep. I am very tired." 
 
 Mrs. Lovering's predictions proved true about Elevia's 
 recovery. She had relapses and break-downs ; but health 
 at lust rewarded those who had so carefully watched over 
 her. Mr. Giles, in his turn, went back and forth, spen ,-
 
 300 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 ing all the time he could with liis wife. Ann muttered, 
 sighed, and scolded in turn. 
 
 " Ye'll go to the poor 'ouse, all on ye, yet, likely 'a 
 not. I can't 'elp it. I work 'ard 'miff." 
 
 " 0, no, we shan't, Ann," said Mr. Giles. " I am 
 pretty well off yet ; and Elevia is getting well. She'll 
 be home by and by, and then we want you to keep house 
 in the west room. You'll be company for us, and can 
 come and go when you please." 
 
 " Do'no 'bout that ; w'ere's the money comin' from ? " 
 
 " 0, it shan't cost you anything for rent, or wood, or 
 milk, or vegetables ; and I'll fix things so that father will 
 pay you so much yearly; at least I think I can. lie 
 ought to, and shall, if " He stopped, for Ann was 
 looking at him in astonishment. 
 
 " Be ye crazy, Mason ? " she said, at length. " Lordy, 
 Lordy ! 'ow much ye look like 'er. 0, Lordy ! " Ann 
 covered her wrinkled face. " 'Ow it all comes back ! I 
 wish ye'd fret and fuss as ye used to ; I can stan' that, 
 but I can't stan' this 'ere ; I ain't used to 't. Nobody 
 but 'er ever spoke a kind word to me after, after " 
 Ann broke down. 
 
 " You mean after your father died and mother married 
 again. I know it, Ann ; it was a shame. I am going 
 to be a different man from my father. But the Lord 
 knows I came near killing my wife, as he did our 
 mother. I remember it all now, and see it all. You 
 won't go back there will you ? It is bad for you 
 both." 
 
 " Do'no ; Lcve won't want me when she gets well. 
 Nobody wants me when they can 'elp it." 
 
 " Yes, she will ; you see if she don't. She is a good
 
 THE DAY OF MIRACLES. 301 
 
 girl Elcvia is, Ann. She loves me, with all my faults. 
 You will be the best of friends yet." 
 
 " She's good 'nuff, I s'pose. Wen is she comiu' ? " 
 
 " Pretty soon, if nothing happens. Ann, do you re- 
 member how father pulled off mother's flowers, red 
 and yellow, great and small, and put them in a gor- 
 geous wreath, round her poor dead face ? " No answer. 
 " Ann, I think you pulled them out and threw them to 
 the hogs didn't you ? I am glad you did it. I didn't 
 understand it then. What did he do it for ? " 
 
 " 0, Lordy ! I do'no ; 'e said she liked such trash, an' 
 'e wanted the ground." 
 
 After a little silence Mr. Giles said, " Ann, I think 
 mother was a Christian." 
 
 " Course she was ; w'ere'Il ye find one if she warn't ?" 
 was the gruff reply. 
 
 " 0, I think she was, and I hope I am one. She told 
 me to take care of you when I was a man. I haven't 
 done it you have taken care of me. I am going to do 
 better. I shall pay you for keeping house ; and I hope 
 you will be a Christian some time." 
 
 She looked up at him bitterly as she said, 
 
 " I tell yo I won't forgive 'im ; an' I won't be mean 
 'nuff to ask arter w'at I won't give." She left the room. 
 " 0, Lordy ! " she mused ; " w'ats come over Mm ? I 
 can't stan' it I can't I'd rather he'd beat me." 
 
 She wrung her hard, toil-worn hands, as if to wring 
 out the bitter thoughts that came creeping in at the door 
 of her heart, so long closed to human sympathy, which, 
 as she thought, had boon rudely pried open by the voice 
 of Clirisiiiin love. 
 
 " No, im ; 1 won't forgive 'im/' she muttered. " I 
 ; I <-:i!i't. Didn't he kill Yr didn't he? If I
 
 302 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 ever do forgive 'im, it'll be w'en I can't 'elp it there 
 now. God may forgive 'im, but I can't ; no, no, I can't. 
 She don't want me to I know it 0, I know it." 
 
 " I can't let you carry your wife home till Thanksgiv- 
 ing," was Mr. Lovering's reply to the importunities of 
 Mr. Giles. " She will be stronger then. No ; I want 
 to kill the fatted calf, and have the whole family together. 
 What do you say to that ? " 
 
 " Why, I shall have to submit," was the reply. " But 
 when I do get her, I shan't give her up again so easily," 
 he said, laughing. " But I can never thank you enough 
 for what you have done for us. I insist upon paying our 
 board since I have been here." 
 
 " Well, I shan't refuse to take a moderate sum. You 
 will feel better ; and besides, I arn not as rich as I might 
 be, and Harmony's children must be looked after." 
 
 " I know it," said Mr. Giles, " and I want you to carry 
 out Elevia's wishes, and pay for Winnie's schooling out of 
 her portion. I have engaged the best girl I could find to 
 help Elevia, and think we shall be very happy after this." 
 
 " If Ann troubles her, and renders her life miserable, 
 I shall expect you to make different arrangements," was 
 the reply. " You see I talk to you now just as I do to 
 my own boys. I have always been an old patriarch 
 among them," he said, laughing. " Frank and Edward 
 consult me about as much as Charles, and then they all 
 do as they please. That is about it, I believe. So you 
 won't mind my taking liberties," he said, as Mr. Giles 
 changed color. 
 
 " No, I won't mind er I will try not to. I have 
 IHTII out of the way, and I don't wonder you can't trust 
 me."
 
 THE DAY OF MIUACLES. 303 
 
 " Yes, I do trust you ; I onty speak about these things. 
 I believe you mean to do right, and I think you will." 
 
 Perhaps my readers will think me a gjeat while telling 
 my story. Please be patient while I tell you what be- 
 came of the children who had been the objects of so much 
 tender, unselfish love ; so unfortunate, and yet so richly 
 blessed. The little, pale, sallow baby we introduced to you 
 at the beginning has been maturing into a lovely, thought- 
 ful child. The circumstances of her little life have pre- 
 pared her to begin the work of self-denial, for which she 
 seems to have been rescued from an untimely death. 
 She had one of those confiding natures which steal into 
 all hearts not barred against them by selfishness. That 
 seems to be the mission of all babies. They are the 
 golden keys that the All-Father sends to unlock the deep- 
 est fountains of human affection, and draw out the hidden 
 sympathies of the soul, which lie buried beneath the dust 
 and ashes of selfishness and corroding cares. Theirs is 
 a glorious mission. Rusty and crusty must that soul be, 
 which resists the holy influence of the baby, and refuses 
 to take in these little ones, who come to us like sweet 
 odors from the source of love like bright, sparkling 
 drops from the great Fountain of all good. But our 
 baby had a wonderful smile, wonderful eyes, and a won- 
 derful faculty for creeping into the snuggest, warmest 
 corner of all hearts. Perhaps, as she was to be left a 
 helpless infant, worse than fatherless, she came more 
 richly freighted from the Infinite Source of love. Per- 
 haps, as she had a dangerous, difficult road to travel, a 
 mission to accomplish, she came armed for the conflict. 
 \Vc shall see.
 
 304 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 CIIAPTEK XXXII. 
 
 FOSTINA'S MISSION. 
 
 " WHERE is my fatlier ? " said a little girl of seven 
 summers. " Where is he ? " she repeated, fixing her 
 large, dark, beautiful eyes searchingly upon the yet fair, 
 pleasant face of our old friend, Hester Strong. 
 
 " Fossie, darling, why do you wish to know ? Are 
 you not happy here with us ? Get your dollie, dear, and 
 I will try to help you dress it." 
 
 " No, no," was the impatient reply ; " I want to see 
 my father I must. You say my sweet mamma loved 
 him, and I must see him. Tell me where he is; please, 
 auntie, do. Now grandpa Manlie has gone to Heaven, 
 I want rny father I want him." She laid the little 
 pale face wearily against the broad, loving bosom which 
 had sheltered her so tenderly all those years. 
 
 " You grieve me, darling," said Hester, putting her 
 arm about the child, and stroking the rich, dark hair ; 
 " darling, you grieve me. If I thought it would make 
 you happy, I would carry you to see your father ; 
 but " 
 
 " But what, auntte what is it ? What has he done ? 
 Is he blind, or lame, or crazy, like poor Mr. Davis ? I 
 must know. The children at school whisper about 
 him, and ask me where he is, and laugh because I 
 don't know. And I must know. I am snvn venra o 1 7
 
 FOSTINA'S MISSION. 305 
 
 now," she said, disengaging herself from those loving 
 arms ; and, brushing the tears nervously away, she 
 raised herself to her utmost height, saying, " Don't you 
 see how tall I am ? Such a big girl, and don't know my 
 father ! " 
 
 " Yes, I see," said Hester, smiling at the attitude the 
 child had taken ; " but you always loved to have 
 grandpa call you ' Little Mary ; ' ' My Mary ' didn't 
 you ? " 
 
 " Yes, I did ; but he is dead now, and I want to see 
 my father : you said I might when I was old enough." 
 
 "Well, dear," said Hester, thoughtfully, "if you 
 think you know what is best for you, I will tell you all 
 about your father ; but I think you had better wait." 
 
 " Auntie, I don't know what is best ; but I am very, 
 very unhappy." She threw herself into those ever-open 
 arms, and wept passionately. 
 
 " Better tell her all about it now," said Martha Man- 
 lie ; " she can't feel much worse." 
 
 "Darling," said Hester, softly, "darling, do you 
 remember the large, ragged man that used to come here 
 when grandpa was alive, and how grandpa used to 
 call you into his room, and tell you stories while he 
 Ktai.l?" 
 
 " Yes, auntie ; who was it ? He had an old hat, and 
 
 walked crooked all round. And Elida used to scold at 
 
 him, and call him ' naughty.' Who was it ? I used to 
 
 look out of the window when he went off, and breathe 
 
 just w," taking a long breath, " and grandpa used 
 
 t" put his hand on my head, and say, 'Thank God ! 
 
 thank God ! ' What rnudo him ? He isn't " She 
 
 1 herself, and started back so that she could fix 
 
 20
 
 306 UESTEll STIiONG'S LIFE WOKK. 
 
 those strange, beautiful eyes on Hester's face, and 
 waited almost breathlessly " lie isn't " she re- 
 peated. 
 
 " If he were your father, could you love him, and 
 should you still want to go and see him ? " was the reply. 
 The child looked at one, then at the other, and then her 
 eye rested on a little picture of her mother. She seemed 
 bewildered and perplexed. At length, bursting into 
 fresh tears, she exclaimed, vehemently, 
 
 " I think you are naughty to talk that way. What 
 would she say? She wouldn't love that man, auntie 
 never!" After she became more quiet, Hester told her 
 all about her father, and the circumstances of her moth- 
 er's happy death, and her father's rapid fall into drunken- 
 ness and ruin. 
 
 " Do they ever get better ? " said the child, stifling 
 her grief "do they, auntie?" 
 
 " Yes, dear, sometimes." 
 
 " Who cures them ? God ? " 
 
 " Yes ; he sometimes blesses the efforts of good peo- 
 ple, who labor for the temperance cause ; and drunkards 
 sign the pledge, leave off drinking, and become good 
 again." 
 
 " What is the pledge ? Do any but drunkards sign 
 it?" 
 
 " Yes, dear ; Martha and I have signed it, Winnie 
 and Wallace have, and a great many others." 
 
 " Then why don't you get my father to sign it ? " she 
 paid, reprovingly. " I want to sign the pledge, and then 
 I shall get him to sign it, and he won't wear those ragged 
 clothes any more. He shall walk like uncle Edward, and 
 I will buy him a new hat, and then he shall come to the
 
 FOSTINA'S MISSION. 307 
 
 school-bouse, and they shall see that I have a father as 
 well as they can't I, auntie ? " she inquired, eagerly. 
 
 " Why, yes, dear ; you can sign the pledge, and labor, 
 and pray, and be a nice little temperance girl," said 
 Hester, cheerfully. " Now that is settled, get your 
 dollie, and we will see what we can do for that.' 7 
 
 " 0, but I want to sign it now, auntie. What if he 
 should die ? I must begin right off." Hester wrote 
 what she called a pledge, and guided the little fingers to 
 sign it. A sigh of relief escaped when it was accom- 
 plished. 
 
 " There," said Hester, " you must ask God to lead you 
 now, and wait till he opens the way." 
 
 " You pray about it, auntie. I shouldn't know any- 
 thing but ' Our Father,' and ' Now I lay me,' and such 
 prayers." Hester prayed, and then called the child's 
 attention to her dollie again. 
 
 " But, auntie, I shall want a prayer like that." 
 
 " Well," said Hester, " after you have said, ' Our 
 
 Father,' you can say, ' Dear Lord, please to help me 
 
 reform my father ; please to save him from the power 
 
 of sin, for Jesus' sake ; ' and then you must wait till 
 
 , he opens the way." 
 
 Eli da Lentell was a general favorite in school. No one 
 attempted to tease her. They couldn't ; or, if they at- 
 tempted it, they were obliged to escape ignobly from 
 her keen, sharp wit. One boy, who knew something of 
 her history, maliciously inquired, 
 
 " Do you remember when you lived in the swamp ? " 
 alluding to ' the small house near the swamp,' where we 
 iir.st found Llida. 
 
 " Why, no," was the prompt reply. " What was I
 
 308 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 then ? a fish or a frog ? I don't remember a thing 
 about it. You came there to 'drink didn't you, after 
 chasing a squirrel ? I am glad dogs don't catch frogs 
 nor fishes." This was said in her own inimitable man- 
 ner, and caused a roar of laughter, which greatly dis- 
 comfited the enemy, and caused the boys and girls, to 
 gather more closely around her. She was the same fun- 
 ny, joyous child that she had been seven years before 
 the ' Sunshine ' of the school-house and the play-ground, 
 as well as the home circle. Cheerfulness was her gift ; 
 but underneath it was a firm, persistent will, which it 
 had caused Hester much pain and effort to control. 
 
 " She is the hardest one among them to manage," she 
 used to say ; " for sometimes her wilf ulness is so covered 
 up with apparent good nature, that I find it difficult to 
 get along." 
 
 Wallace was a fine scholar, the pride of the family. 
 Howard Trueman had entered college, was half through, 
 and Wallace had day-dreams of college life and a pro- 
 fession. Albert Gray is attending school with Wallace ; 
 they are firm friends. Lottie and Winnie are bosom 
 companions. 
 
 Mr. Stillman is keeping store yet. Seven years have 
 changed him, but not for the better. He curses in his 
 heart the Temperance Reform, and attributes his want 
 of success in business to the Maine Law and Mr. True- 
 man, who is now the liquor agent, and is complained of 
 bitterly for "corking up the bottles so tight," and refus- 
 ing to sell a drop without a manifest reason for it. 
 
 Mrs. Stillman is leading a quiet, consistent life. 
 Jack's term at the Reform School has expired ; but he 
 is not reformed. He is still a wanderer, they know not
 
 FOSTINA'S MISSION. 309 
 
 where ; and the mother sighs as she thinks how different 
 it might have been. Clara, now a fine-looking girl, is in 
 the factory, boarding and intimately associating with 
 Eegena Steele, who has also been forced to earn her own 
 finery and gewgaws by " that miserable liquor law, 7 ' as 
 she calls it. 
 
 Hattie Gray has, at last, become convinced that step- 
 mothers are not necessarily monsters. She is at home, 
 enjoying life ; and rumor whispers that, somewhere in 
 the future, she is looking for a happy home which shall 
 be all her own. Elida, the sly rogue, enjoys inquiring 
 after her brother Henry, often, and wonders if he is as 
 bashful as ever. 
 
 " It would be funny if he should take a fancy to me 
 when I am old enough wouldn't it, IIa,ttie ? -How 
 should you like me for a sister ? Let's see : you like 
 'im (as Ann would say) better than you did don't 
 you ? How funny it sounds to hear her say, ' J 'ate 
 'im' (old Mr.. Giles). Rather tough eating, I imagine. It 
 had the effect of making her cross. Why, how hand- 
 some you look when your cheeks are red I " 
 
 " You are a perfect little tease," said Ilattie ono 
 day ; " but nobody can get angry with you. But if I 
 should act so, folks wouldn't bear it." 
 
 " Well, I know it ; I was born so, and you weren't 
 that makes the difference. You shall come and live with 
 Henry and me. Now, don't tell auntie I am talking about 
 such things : she will look so " (drawing down her 
 face). " I had rather she would whip me," she said, as 
 Hester stepped in at the door to call her to finish some 
 work she had left half done. " 0, I am going to do 
 it ! I will have it done in a moment, auntie, darling.
 
 310 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WO UK. 
 
 You know Sunshine is always dancing around don't 
 you ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Hester, " and that is what makes so 
 many shadows and clouds." Thus the merry girl moved 
 on without the many cares and sorrows which constantly 
 harassed Winnie and Mary F. 
 
 There is a little Mason at Mr. Giles'. Unie is father's 
 girl now, and Master Mason belongs to aunt Ann, while 
 little speck of baby sleeps in mamma's bosom. Mr. 
 Lovering patted Elevia on the cheek, as he peeped in at 
 the wee thing, saying, 
 
 " My daughter, I think the second crop of smiles and 
 roses which came back to you, after we gave you up, 
 look quite as pretty and interesting as the earlier crop. 
 Mr. Giles, you haven't allowed the frost to nip them 
 have you ? " 
 
 " I have tried to preserve them," was the reply ; " but 
 Elevia has a good deal to put up with now. Old habits 
 stick to me, and always will." 
 
 " I haven't complained have I ? " said Elevia, tak- 
 ing his brown hand tenderly in hers, and smiling up into 
 his face. 
 
 " No, you haven't ; but you have had reason to, 
 often." 
 
 " I didn't know it," was the reply. " I wish no one 
 had more reason to complnin than I." 
 
 " 0, you are doing well, " said grandpa. " What 
 shall you call this little lump here ? " 
 
 " We call her Annie T. Isn't it a pretty name ? " said 
 Elevia. 
 
 " Why, yes, I suppose it is ; but how did you know I 
 shouldn't want to name her after my Lizzie here ? " said 
 grandpa, laughing.
 
 FOSTINA'S MISSION. 311 
 
 " Why, bless you, my dear," said the happy little 
 'woman, "I shouldn't want you to name her that. I 
 won't have a rival, no ways at all, you see. But how 
 does Ann like her namesake ? " she inquired. 
 
 " 0, she is evidently pleased," said Elevia ; " but no 
 one is equal to little Mason." 
 
 " But, my dear," said grandma, "don't begin to call 
 him ' little Mason.' Everybody in town will be calling 
 him ' little Mason,' and then there will be ' big Mason/ 
 you see ? " 
 
 " I suppose they will, mother. How shall we man- 
 age ? " 
 
 " Call him by his middle name, or Mason Edward. If 
 I were you, I should call him Eddie. 0, here is Miss 
 Ann." 
 
 "You needn't 'Miss' me," said Ann, with a dry 
 laugh. " I'm 'ere, you see." 
 
 " Yes, I see ; you have a pretty little namesake here, 
 too; I am almost jealous of you." 
 
 "Needn't be; do'n'o w'at they named 'er that for; 
 'omely name 'nuff: I didn't ask urn to." 
 
 " It's a pretty name," said Mrs. Levering, decidedly. 
 " Ann, you shan't slander the baby so. Did you have a 
 good visit in ? " 
 
 " I s'pose so ; I missed this youngster," said Ann, 
 hugging him to her bosom. 
 
 " Yes," said Elevia, " and he missed her so I didn't 
 know what to do." Ann gave the little fellow another 
 hug. 
 
 " Did ye miss 'er, ducky did ye ? Well, aunt Ann 
 shan't go agin, I promise ye, ducky." 
 
 " Muson get the horse, and take aunt Ann to ride," 
 aid I'M' li.iy. "Mason drive."
 
 312 IIESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 " That's a man," said Ann. 
 
 " Did you see old Mrs. Lentell while there ?" inquired 
 Mrs. Levering. 
 
 " Yes, she's broke 'er leg ; good 'nuff for her, I 
 s'pose." 
 
 "Broken her leg!" said Elevia; "why, you didn't 
 tell me of it." 
 
 " Didn't mean to, nuther. I s'posed ye'd want to 
 go an' nuss 'er, or suthin', the whole on ye." 
 
 " Well, we must love our enemies, Ann ; the Bible 
 says so," said Elevia, " and forgive them as we hope to 
 be forgiven. But I don't think I am good enough to 
 want to go and take care jof her. How did it hap- 
 pen ? " 
 
 " She was goin' acrost to git some fillin' for a web 
 she's weaviu' for 'Errick's folks, an' fell a-crossin' the 
 brook. Pity 'twarn't her neck, though ! She kep 'er 
 old 'ead out o' water, an' 'ollered an' 'ollered ; but no- 
 body- 'card 'er but 'Errick's wife." 
 
 " How far was it from Mr. Herrick's ? " said Elevia. 
 
 " Quarter 'v a mile, or so, I s'pose. She better put 
 'er 'ead under, an' done with it. I 'ate 'er, if the rest 
 on ye don't." After she left the room, Mrs. Levering 
 inquired, 
 
 " Don't you feel afraid Eddie will imitate Ann's 
 speech and character ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Elevia, " I do. I shall try to guard 
 against it. So far I have had no trouble. But I can see 
 that the child is doing her good. Poor Ann, I never sup- 
 posed she would ever love or be loved. She is very much 
 changed. You see she uses three words where she for- 
 merly used one. Truly, kindnesss is a powerful iustru-
 
 FOSTINA'S MISSION. 313 
 
 mcnt for good. But Ann's affections were so chilled and 
 blighted when young, and her heart so sealed up, as it 
 were, by cruel, unkind treatment, that she will never get 
 over it. It seemed as if she grudged every word, and 
 was afraid the old crust would be broken up. Last 
 night I was affected to tears when Mason Eddie (you 
 see I profit by your suggestion) went to her, and 
 said, 
 
 " ' Hear Mason pray, aunt Ann.' She don't allow him 
 to say auntie. 
 
 " ' Lordy ! ' said she, ' I guess I can't. There, lit- 
 tle Mason mustn't say Lordy ; it's a bad word. Aunt 
 Ann must be whipped if she says it again. Kneel down 
 an' say it, little man. He knows don't he ? ' He 
 folded his baby hands, and said it very reverently. Ann 
 listened, and sighed deeply when it was over. ' She 
 learned me to say that, too,' she almost whispered, 
 bending over the child. 
 
 " ' Did she ? ' said he ; ' it is a nice little prayer 
 isn't it, aunt Ann ? ' Who was she ? 
 
 "'0! (the Lordy didn't come that time), ' 0, it 
 was my mother my mother, ducky ! I 'ad a mother 
 like you, once, little man, an' I loved 'er, as you do.' 
 
 " ' I am sorry,' said the child, supposing, by Ann's 
 manner, it was a great trouble that she was talking 
 about, ' I'm sorry ; don't feel bad, aunt Ann ; you 
 shan't have another mother next time. My mother shall 
 be your mother, aunt Ann ; and I am your little boy 
 ain't I ? ' 
 
 "'Yes yes; there now, run in, an' kiss 'er, as I 
 used to. 1 wish them days was back agin I do. I 
 wuru't such an old hackmatack, then.'
 
 314 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 " ' ITatch-ma-tatch ! ' said the child ' what is that ? 
 Hatch-ma-tatch how funny ! ' Ann laughed, and 
 waited for him to kiss me good night. She didn't know 
 I overheard her. ' A little child shall lead them/ you 
 see. I hope Ann will be benefited, without injuring the 
 child. Mr. Wiley's folks were not at all pleased with 
 the idea of Ann's making her home with us. They lay 
 it to mercenary motives. They give us a great deal of 
 trouble ; but there, we must have trouble of some kind ; 
 and it is so much better to have it out of the house than 
 in it out of the heart than in it." 
 
 " Yes, you may well say that," was the reply. " Isn't 
 it pleasant to think that God understands our motives, 
 if our fellow-men do not ? " 
 
 " Yes, it is a comfort; yet how much of sin and im- 
 perfection he sees in these hearts of ours ! " said Elevia. 
 "I am glad," she continued, "that Winnie has finished 
 going to school. Envena has been a constant trial to 
 her." 
 
 " I know it," said grandma. " Isn't -it strange that 
 she will let her tease and fret her so ? Why don't she 
 cut her acquaintance, and have nothing to say to her ? " 
 
 " I don't know, I am sure. Strange to say, she loves 
 her still, and thinks she doesn't mean anything. And yet 
 that naughty girl has told every boy and girl in the vil- 
 lage about her father's actions, and insinuated some 
 things which were not true. She is the most deceitful 
 child I ever saw, and yet she is the most innocent, sin- 
 cere-appearing one in the world. For some reason, best 
 known to herself, she admires, caresses, and flatters 
 Winnie in her presence, and slanders her behind her 
 back. She slights her shamefully in company, and then,
 
 FOSTINA'S MISSION. 315 
 
 by skilful management, convinces the child that she didn't 
 mean to never thought of such a thing is grieved 
 that Winnie should think so. I am vexed with her. 
 She humors Arm, and thinks just as she does when in her 
 sight, and makes all manner of fun of her at other times. 
 1 think she hates my children ; and yet she makes a great 
 deal of Mason Eddie, to please Ann. I don't know what 
 will become of her. She brings various stories to Ann 
 about Winnie. I was pleased to hear Ann tell her the 
 other day that ' Win was as good as she was, an' 'nuff 
 sight better.' I have thought her envious of Winnie on 
 account of her position in Mr. Trueman's family. I 
 hope Winnie will sujcceed well in teaching." 
 
 " I do hope she will," said Mrs. Levering ; " she will 
 be faithful, I know. I am glad her prospects are so 
 bright ; she deserves it, I am sure. And there isn't a 
 person living who would make a more suitable compan- 
 ion for her than Howard Trueman. Why, she is one of 
 a thousand. No one can help seeing how superior she 
 is to Erivena. Isn't that what makes her torment Win- 
 nie so, think you ? " 
 
 "Perhaps it is," said Elevia, with a troubled look. 
 " She is very intimate at Mr. Trueman's. They received 
 her at first as Winnie's friend ; but they think a great 
 <l"al of her now. She is there oftener than Winnie. I 
 never thought of it before ; but I do believe she is in 
 some way supplanting her. She is capable of doing al- 
 most anything which can be accomplished by intrigue 
 and deception, and she not twenty. Why, when she is 
 here, I can't help believing her truthful, she seems so 
 tender and affectionate, her voice is so low and pleasant ; 
 and yet I have good reason to think her very deceptive.
 
 316 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 She is a dangerous girl I never knew bow dangerous 
 until I watched her intercourse with Winnie. She has 
 tried to prejudice Mason and me against her, but in such 
 a way that I never could tell any one just how." 
 
 " Well, I should think she was artful and envious," 
 said Mrs. Lovering. "I hope she won't cause Winnie 
 any serious trouble. Why should she aim her venomous 
 shafts at her ? What has she done ? " 
 
 " I think it is partly owing to Winnie's superiority, as 
 you suggested," said Elevia ; " and then, before Winnie 
 came here, Envena had the whole ground was quite a 
 pet. I came to see that she was expecting favors from 
 Mason as well as Ann ; and now Mason and Ann think 
 there is no one quite equal to Winnie. She knows we 
 have helped to educate her ; and Ann actually bought her 
 a white muslin dress and blue sash for examination-day. 
 I was astonished. Winnie cried when she thrust it into 
 her lap, saying, 
 
 " ' Take it, an' wear it 'zamination-day, an' ye will. I 
 didn't 'ave no sich day, nor dress, nuther. I wish I 'ad, 
 though.' 
 
 " Winnie looked up into the hard, cold face, with the 
 kindness creeping out of the eyes in spite of Ann's 
 efforts to conceal it, bowed her head over the package, 
 and burst into tears. 'Don't want it do ye?' said 
 Ann, trying to speak in her usual dry, cold manner. 
 ' Well, Vene would tell as many lies as ye've got fingers 
 to git it ; but Ann ain't a fool, if she docs act like one. 
 So wipe up, an' make yer dress, an' wear it. It's well 
 'nuff for folks that's true an' honest to wear w'ite once 
 in a w'ile.' Ann brushed out of the room, and slammed 
 the door, before Winnie could control her feelings suffi- 
 ciently to speak.
 
 FOSTINA'S MISSION. 31 7 
 
 "'She isn't angry is she?' said Winnie. 'I am 
 sorry I cried ; but it was so unexpected ! and then it 
 came over me how hard Ann's life had been compared 
 with mine ; and I have had trials. Poor Ann ! I must try 
 to be patient with her. 0, auntie, why has my life been 
 so full of privileges and blessings more than I deserve ? ' 
 There, I have told you quite a story. Mason and father 
 are corning in, and I guess I have talked enough for 
 once." 
 
 " Why, so you have, child. I ought to have known 
 better. Well, there, it is just like me." 
 
 " 0, no harm done, I think. I shall soon rest. Isn't 
 it pleasant to see how much Mason and father think of 
 each other ? "
 
 318 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 SUNSHINE AND SHADOWS. DECEPTION UNVEILED. 
 
 SEVERAL years later. Winnie has succeeded, as a 
 teacher, beyond the expectations of her most sanguine 
 friends. Her engagement with Howard Trueman is sup- 
 posed to be a settled fact. She is established as teacher 
 in the village high school, with a generous salary. 
 
 " I have only two real causes for anxiety," she says 
 to Hester. " Wallace is in good hands, and is doing 
 well ; and Mary F. is a darling bird, only a mite too sad 
 for a child. But there is father no better of his terri- 
 ble habit. They say he leaves no means untried to get 
 rum, selling the very clothes I give him for it ; getting it 
 most of the time now, when it is so difficult to be obtained, 
 and drinking cider when he cannot get rum. This is dis- 
 couraging ; it is hard, but it don't wear me as it did I 
 actually forget it sometimes. But Elida's determination 
 to work in that city mill worries me more and more. It is 
 so needless ! She is so young, and thoughtless, and pret- 
 ty ! just the one to be tempted. I have no faith in 
 Clara or Regena ; they are giddy, vain, and frivolous. 
 It is strange she can like them for companions." 
 
 " I know it, Winnie," said Hester. " I would like to 
 have it otherwise ; but she was so desirous of going, I 
 thought it best to permit it. I hoped it wouldn't last 
 long. But I think you need not feel anxious. She is a
 
 SUNSHINE AND SHADOWS. 319 
 
 girl of sterling- principle, and as farm as a rock, though 
 not a Christian. And I can trust her to buffet the waves 
 of temptation which will meet her in the city ; for I 
 mean to keep fast hold of the overruling hand, by prayer 
 seasoned with faith." 
 
 " But, auntie, isn't she trusting in herself ? and are 
 \ve ever safe when we do that ? If she were trusting in 
 God, she would be secure. But since you have so much 
 faith, I suppose I ought to." 
 
 " Who was it that said there were two sorts of things 
 he never allowed to trouble him those things which he 
 could help, and those he could not help ? Let that be 
 your motto, Winnie. You can't prevent } 7 our father's 
 drinking, nor Elida's going to the mill." 
 
 " Perhaps not, auntie," was the reply ; " but recently, 
 I feel as if I might have helped to save my father, if I 
 had been more self-denying." 
 
 " llow could you, Winnie ? " said Martha ; " I should 
 about as soon expect to raise the dead." 
 
 " Well," said Winnie, warmly, " that almost seems to 
 be done, sometimes. Think of aunt Elevia ; you said it 
 was like raising one from the dead then." 
 
 " I know I said so ; and it was. But how would you 
 begin to reform your father ? You couldn't get near 
 him," said Martha. 
 
 " Aunt Martha, have you forgotten how often grandpa 
 used to say, ' You must have more faith, child : nothing 
 is too hard for (Jod " ? 
 
 " Yes, I remember it, Winnie. I know I fail there ; 
 but we must have just a little of something to hang our 
 faith on, or pin it to mustn't we ? before we expect to 
 accomplish any great thing."
 
 320 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 "Yes," said Winnie, reverently ; "our Saviour says, 
 1 Whatsoever ye shall ask in my name, believing, ye shall 
 receive.' Now I have prayed enough to save father. 
 0, yes ! I have literally wet my couch with my tears 
 for him ; but that wasn't enough in this case. If father 
 should cry to God for help, as I have cried for him, God 
 would reach out his hand and pluck him as a brand from 
 the burning. But I had something more to do. My 
 faith and works should have gone hand in hand. I should 
 have braved all, and gone to him, and led him back to 
 God and virtue. In his strength we can do all things. 
 How I have longed to go ! But the fear of aunt Abigail 
 and grandmother has clung to me, even now that my 
 childhood is gone. If I were at liberty again, I would 
 go ; but I have entered upon the work which I think God 
 has given me, and since my kind friends have prepared 
 me for it, I feel that it would be ungrateful to leave it. 
 I hope I shall do good where I am ; but I sometimes 
 query ' Am I doing right ? Have I done right ? ' I 
 wish I could know. Besides," she continued, " I have let 
 that opportunity slip. I could have done more for him 
 as a child he loved children." 
 
 Mary F. had listened attentively to this conversation. 
 Her color came and went. 
 
 " What is it, dear ? " said Hester. " Winnie, we must 
 be careful not to introduce this topic often : you see my 
 wise little girl thii ':s too much now." 
 
 Ah ! they little knew how much she thought. One 
 great, earnest, pervading thought was wearing out the 
 life of the lovely child, and making her prematurely old. 
 
 " Let us change the subject," said Hester. " You are 
 going to Commencement of course."
 
 SUNSHINE AND SHADOWS. 321 
 
 " I don't know, auntie. Howard wrote me to come 
 by all means ; but I feel some hesitation about it. If he 
 should fail in speaking, and the best do sometimes on 
 those occasions, I should feel badly. Envena told Lucy 
 she would not fail of being there for the world, it would 
 be such a rich treat to hear Howard's graduating piece. 
 Of course, she said, it would be splendid. And I pre- 
 sume it will. I know he is capable of writing an ora- 
 tion. I wish she wouldn't compliment Howard so much ; 
 it discomposes me strangely when she does it, no 
 doubt, to please me." 
 
 Hester had dropped her work, and was looking over 
 her glasses into Winnie's face, with a mournful, tender 
 Iqok. 
 
 " Did you say Envena was going to Commencement ? 
 How is she going ? " 
 
 " She said Lucy told her that if I didn't go, they would 
 cany her. But what makes you look at me so, auntie ? " 
 said Winnie, blushing. " I'm not jealous indeed I am 
 not. I don't wonder that they like Envena best. She is 
 so much more agreeable, and can express her thoughts 
 and feelings so beautifully ! I don't blame them hon- 
 estly I don't ; and as long as Howard is true, I can get 
 along." 
 
 " Child, you don't think of giving up your chance to 
 her do you ? when the invitation is a year old or more, 
 ami it has been renewed so often, to my knowledge, that 
 it is not outlawed. You are going ; so don't say a word 
 against it. What a disappointment it would be to How- 
 ard if you were not then- ! " 
 
 " But, aunti'%" was th ter-rful reply, " wouM 3-011 like 
 to go when you knew they would prefer another ? " 
 21
 
 322 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 " Winnie," said Hester, " I don't believe they would. 
 I don't believe it. They would feel hurt if you shouldn't 
 go. Just you tell them frankly what she says, and see 
 what they will say." 
 
 " 0, auntie, I couldn't, it would be so rude." 
 
 " It was rude in her to tell you," said Hester, " and I 
 hope that is all. But, child, I don't believe they said so. 
 How can you think so much of that girl, when she has 
 wounded your feelings so terribly, and slighted you so 
 often ? " 
 
 " Why, auntie, you know she always explains every- 
 thing so, and I find that I have been too sensitive, or 
 credulous, or something. I don't mean to tell you of 
 her next time. You don't love her, and I am the cause 
 of it." 
 
 Hester sighed, and worked on busily for half an hour; 
 and then putting on her things, she said, 
 
 " I am going to make some calls, Winnie. Help aunt 
 Martha about tea ; I shan't be at home." 
 
 Hester walked with a firm, resolute step, as usual 
 when on important business. She found Mrs. Trueman 
 alone. Lucy and Envena were taking a walk, she said. 
 
 " I have come to speak to you about her/' said Hester, 
 rather abruptly. " Do you thiuk she is a fit companion 
 for Lucy ? How do you like her ? " 
 
 Mrs. Trueman looked up with surprise. 
 
 " Why," said she, " what do you mean, Hester ? I 
 thought you admired her. She is always telling some- 
 thing you have said in her praise, or praising you, and 
 Winnie is very fond of her." 
 
 " That is the trouble," said Hester. " Winnie is per- 
 fectly infatuated with her. She slanders her, slights her,
 
 DECEPTION UNVEILED. 323 
 
 and wounds her continually, and yet the poor child can't 
 see that she is a snake in the grass. She will sting her 
 to death, I fear, and then make the dear child think it 
 was a mercy, an act of condescension. And Winnie is 
 not alone in her infatuation." 
 
 " Why, you astonish me ! " said Mrs. Trueman. " If 
 any one else were talking in that way, I should call it 
 base slander. I know you have reasons for what you 
 say. Will you tell me some of them ? " 
 
 " Yes," was the emphatic reply. 
 
 She then told her what Envena had said concerning 
 Commencement, and how Winnie was feeling ; how she 
 had gained Winnie's confidence, and then divulged her 
 secrets, maliciously informing the school children of all 
 the circumstances of Winnie's childhood, coloring and 
 exaggerating shamefully, when the truth was bad enough. 
 
 " You astonish me," said Mrs. Trueman, thoughtfully. 
 " She told us confidentially that some one, she knew not 
 who, had told these stories all around. And really, Hes- 
 ter, she did seem sorry and grieved about it. She said 
 it was injuring Winnie very much it was shameful, 
 &c. I told her Winnie was to be pitied for this, but 
 not blamed." 
 
 " There," said Hester, " that accounts for one story. 
 She told some one that you made a great deal of Winnie 
 out of pity, that was all. I tell you her sympathy waa 
 put on a mask, and nothing more. Siie reported those 
 stories ; I have traced them all to her. I have had my 
 eye on her these two years, closely. As for saying any- 
 thing in her favor, I wish I could; but I can't. I have 
 been in the family, you know. She is artful naturally, 
 ami her (raining all ,^-he gets is in 9110 direction. I
 
 324 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 couldn't bear it a moment longer. Just look at it ! 
 What an adept ! Tell the stones with additions and va- 
 riations, and then come with a lamentation in her mouth, 
 and all to prepare the way for making an impression 
 favorable to herself. Is that all ? I am prepared for 
 anything now. She has gone beyond my expectations. 
 How about Commencement ? Did you really prefer her 
 company to Winnie's ? " 
 
 " You must let me collect my scattered senses," was 
 the reply. "What I have learned shocks me. Only 
 that I know you to be above such meanness, I could not 
 believe you. I remember her expressing astonishment 
 that Winnie did not care to go, &c., and that she was 
 not more interested in Howard's success. But," she 
 added, " Winnie is a dear good girl. I suppose she is 
 BO absorbed in her school that she can't think of any- 
 thing else ; and, perhaps," she added, lowering her voice 
 almost to a whisper, " she is too much absorbed in some- 
 thing else." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " said Lucy, sharply. 
 
 " 0, nothing ! I presume it isn't anything. You 
 know stories will fly. I didn't mean to speak of it." 
 
 " Of course it isn't anything," said I; " but of what 
 are you thinking ? " 
 
 " Why, the new minister. I don't think there is any- 
 thing in it. I have heard it spoken of." 
 
 " I believe she is the first and only one that ever spoke 
 of it," said Hester, quite indignantly. " He is school 
 committee. Go on ; what next ? " 
 
 " I guess I have, told you enough," was the smiling 
 reply. " You have given me a key that will unlock a 
 good many mysteries. I thank you very much. Then
 
 DECEPTION UNVEILED. 325 
 
 Winnie thinks we don't love her, and that accounts for 
 her shyness lately. She don't blame us, you say, dear 
 child ! I should blame myself if I did not, for she is 
 truly lovely, and every way worthy. Now I think of it, 
 I fear Envena has succeeded in partially alienating Lucy 
 from her. But Lucy is very sincere ; and when I un- 
 lock that dark chamber, and let her look into Envena's 
 heart, she will be cured. 0, there is one thing I do not 
 understand ! She said she heard there were some ter- 
 rible mysteries about Winnie's birth. I never could 
 think to ask you.' 7 
 
 "There is nothing mysterious about, the child or her 
 birth which you did not know. You know her as well 
 as I do, and I know her better than she knows herself. 
 She is good enough for a king," said Hester, with unu- 
 sual asperity. " And so she reported that Mr. Lentell 
 was in jail for killing his wife, or some other terrible 
 crime." 
 
 " Well, I have heard enough," said Mrs. Trueman. 
 " What shall I do, Hester ? Can you tell me ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Hester, recovering her equanimity ; " I 
 want Envena to go to Commencement. Let her ride 
 with you." 
 
 " No ; I can't do that. Winnie must ride with us. 
 Why, I shouldn't dare to see Howard without her. I 
 really think the disappointment would cause him to fail. 
 I can't hear to that." 
 
 " Well, hear rne out," said Hester. " It is half a 
 century since I attended those meetings. You know 
 why I went then," she said. "It don't seem so long, 
 and yet it docs seem longer. Well, no matter for me, 
 now. I want to see Howard graduate, and I shall go,
 
 326 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 and carry Winnie. We shall have to spend the night ; 
 but no matter. I would do more than that to make 
 Winnie and Iloward happy, and I don't mean that the 
 sharpest and most skilful actor shall separate those chil- 
 dren. Haven't I known them both ever since they were 
 born ? I ought to ; I dressed them both in their first 
 suits. I tell you they were made for each other, and 
 nothing but God shall separate them in my day, if I can 
 help it. Well, I was going to say, she shall ride over 
 with me, and Envcna can ride with you. Howard must 
 drive Winnie home, and you must give me a seat in your 
 carriage. Will you do this, and promise not to tell any 
 one that we are going ? " 
 
 " Yes, I see no objection to it. I should like to have 
 you there, and Howard would, and he will be delighted 
 with your arrangements generally." 
 
 " Very well. Now keep your eyes open," said Hes- 
 ter, as she kissed Mrs. Trueman good by ; " and keep 
 your own counsel." 
 
 " Winnie is not going with us," said Mrs. Trueman, 
 when the girls returned from their walk. 
 
 " Why not? Then you can go, Envena," said Lucy, 
 without waiting for a reply to her question. 
 
 " Thank you thank you ever so much. I thought 
 Winnie didn't care to go. Isn't it strange ? She is 
 afraid he will fail, and she will be mortified. Why, I 
 shouldn't think of such a thing." Lucy bit her lip. 
 
 " I'll risk him," she said. " I guess he knows as 
 much as Mr. Ehvood. I don't like to hear him preach 
 as well as I did} he isn't much." Mrs. Trueman was 
 not troubled with any more questions about Winnie ; but 
 she thought sadly of the injuries the sweet girl had
 
 DECEPTION UNVEILED. 327 
 
 received from one she loved and trusted. She saw plainly 
 that, as far as Lucy was concerned, the poison had taken 
 effect. She felt thankful for Hester's timely interference, 
 and doubted not that she should be able to set Lucy all 
 right when the time came. Envena looked very sweet, 
 sitting on the back seat between Lucy and Susy. She 
 was '' sorry, very sorry, Winnie wouldn't go." She 
 was " afraid she would regret it. I should think she 
 would, at least. I tried to persuade her to go." 
 
 " What reason did she give for not going ? " said Mrs. 
 Trucman. 
 
 " 0, perhaps I had better not tell ; she wouldn't want 
 me to. But I think it was mostly fear that he wouldn't 
 succeed as well as some." 
 
 " She needn't worry," said Lucy, with unusual spite. 
 
 "Lucy don't understand it," said Mr. Trueman, smil- 
 ing. " It was the intensity of Winnie's affection that 
 made her feel so. She is so anxious he should excel 
 that she fears for him. I feel so myself; it destroys 
 half of my pleasure. And this is a beautiful day ; the 
 horses are in good 'trim, and everything just right, ex- 
 cept I would like to see Winnie's sweet, intelligent face 
 peeping modestly out of the carnage once in a while. 
 Linnie, why didn't you persuade her to go ? Howard 
 could return home in the cars as usual. I did not 
 think of it. What reasons did she give for not going 
 with us?" 
 
 " 0, several," was the reply, as she gave her husband 
 a sign to be silent upon the subject. When they put up 
 to rest their horses, she enlightened him concerning 
 Hester's plan, saying, " I can't stop to explain now. I 
 should have told you last night, only you were out late.''
 
 328 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 " I am glad she will bo there," he said. " I don't 
 like that girl. She is too smooth to suit me ; she would 
 flatter any one to death." Mrs. Trueman smiled, as she 
 thought how easy it was for short-sighted persons to see, 
 when their glasses were properly adjusted. She whis- 
 pered Hester's secret into Howard's ear at the earliest 
 possible moment. He smiled, and said, 
 
 " All right, mother ; I am glad aunt Hester can be 
 here. Isn't she good for planning ? I have been dis- 
 gusted with that girl for a long time, she assumes so much 
 interest in me. But you say I don't know her ? " 
 
 " Yes, I am sure I didn't till very recently. But 
 don't repel her to-day. Let her have all the liberty she 
 wants." 
 
 " I will try to be polite," was the reply. " I hope 
 Winnie will sit where I can look in her face ; and you, 
 too, mother. I need all I can have to give me cour- 
 age." 
 
 " 0, never fear ! " was the cheerful reply ; " it will 
 soon be over. I shall be glad to have you succeed to 
 your heart's content ; but if you should not, it wouldn't 
 alter our opinion. We know the talent is there, and 
 will come out some time." 
 
 " Thank you." 
 
 "Just run down to Mr. M's. Hester will stop there, 
 and speak with Winnie a moment. It will do you both 
 good." 
 
 " Thank you again, mother mine," he said, as he 
 darted off. Envena put on her most fascinating look, 
 her most easy, affable manners, and talked more softly, 
 as she leaned confidingly on Howard's arm to the church, 
 and up the steps. Howard paused at the door 5 she 
 seemed in no haste to let go.
 
 DECEPTION UNVEILED. 329 
 
 " Howard," said Mr. Tnicman, " I want to speak 
 with you a moment." He turned. 
 
 " We won't wait for them," said Mrs. Trueman ; " the 
 sexton will give us seats. Howard will go upon the plat- 
 form." 
 
 " I really thank you, father," said Howard ; " you 
 have relieved me from a dilemma." 
 
 " Winnie is here," said Mr. Trueman, nervously. 
 
 " I know it," was the reply. " I have seen her." 
 
 " 0, all right ! I di.d not know." 
 
 Envena's flattering encomiums pleased Lucy and Susie. 
 " Elegant," " Splendid," " I envy you," " How proud I 
 should be ! " &c. But Mr. and Mrs. Trueman heard 
 them with pain. Their son did himself credit. His address 
 was modest and sensible, well written, arid well delivered ; 
 not brilliant nor eloquent. They were satisfied ; nay, 
 more than that, gratified. Winnie's eyes filled with 
 tears several times honest tears of gratitude. How- 
 ard saw that she, too, was satisfied, and he was content. 
 Envena exerted herself to the utmost to keep him by her 
 side during the intermission, but in vain. Ho pleaded 
 an engagement, and left her. When they met for even- 
 ing services, Howard came in with Winnie on his arm, 
 looking very, very happy. 
 
 " The deceitful thing 1 " said Envena, thrown off her 
 guard. " How came she here ? " 
 
 "Honestly enough," said Mrs. Trueman. "Winnie 
 never told any one she was not coming. I knew she 
 was to be here. I said she was not to ride with us. 
 You and Lucy took it for granted she was to stay at 
 home. I chose to let you remain in ignorance of her 
 coming, for good reasons, I think. So, you see, I have
 
 330 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WOUK. 
 
 cleared Winnie from the charge of deception, I hope," 
 she said, smiling. Envena's vivacity forsook her for a 
 time ; but she recovered herself, and appeared more 
 charming than ever. 
 
 " I am much obliged to aunt Hester for this treat, 
 Winnie," said Howard, looking tenderly into her face. 
 " She knows instinctively what is right and proper." 
 
 "You mean, what is agreeable don't you?" said 
 Winnie. " I am sure I enjoy it. But for her, Howard, 
 I shouldn't have been here." 
 
 "You wouldn't. Why not? I should have been 
 sadly disappointed, and made a worse failure than I did 
 now." 
 
 " You didn't fail," said Winnie ; " you did well." 
 
 " Then why do you look so sad every now and then, 
 when not speaking, Winnie ? Is anything wrong ? " 
 
 " There has been, Howard," she said, looking trust- 
 ingly in Iris face ; "but I hope you will set things all 
 right." 
 
 " What is it, dear ? Tell me. Has your father been 
 troubling you again ? " 
 
 " No ; it isn't wholly that. But, Howard, something 
 has been coming between me and your family, especially 
 between Lucy and me. Howard, it has been dark we 
 loved each other so ; and I don't understand it. Won't 
 you find the rock of offence, and roll it away ? It would 
 be a sad drawback to happiness if I thought your family 
 didn't approve your choice." 
 
 " But they do, dearest. Don't I know ? I learned 
 to love you through them. Why, you are like a daugh- 
 ter and sister to them now." 
 
 " I hoped I was," she said ; " but what if it should be
 
 DECEPTION UNVEILED. 331 
 
 pity only pity and not esteem ? That wouldn't sat- 
 isfy me." 
 
 " Who said that, Winnie ? Tell me. I must know. 
 Who said they pitied you ? " 
 
 " Envena heard so, and told me." 
 
 " She did ! Well, Winnie, I pity ner, poor, foolish 
 girl ! She has reason to be mortified. That girl has 
 been like a dark shadow in your path this long time. 
 She meant to supplant you iu my humble affections. 
 She couldn't. Nothing but death can sever my affec- 
 tions from you. They have been maturing all these 
 years. If you bade me go, I should, but not to love 
 another. Are you satisfied ? And father, if he were a 
 young man, I should be jealous. Mother is all right ; she 
 has been enlightened. Lucy will see soon, and then, 
 darling, the sun will shine again ; for I am determined 
 to roll away the rock of offence from the door of your 
 happiness. And, Winnie, if you love me, you will treat 
 her with politeness nothing more." He told her many 
 things which she did not know, and said, " Are you 
 willing to have the rock rolled out of the way, Winnie ? 
 Don't weep. She deserves it. You and Lucy will be 
 friends again." 
 
 " I pity her," said Winnie. " So she thought I was 
 at home ? Well, she did come near keeping me there. 
 Howard, my heart aches for her. I have been seeing 
 her duplicity ; but I loved her, and could not bear to 
 give her up. But what you tell me convinces me I 
 ought to ; our future happiness depends upon it. Aunt 
 Hester told me many things I did not suspect of her as 
 we rode along. 0, Howard, what if she had succeeded 
 in separating us, as Hester and uncle Horace were sepa- 
 rated ! "
 
 332 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 " She couldn't have done it, dear, especially while our 
 good angel is round to guard us. Let us forget her, and 
 enjoy this pleasant ride. What a happiness, Winnie, to 
 have you at my side ! " 
 
 Envena was truly mortified when her father handed her 
 a letter from Mrs. Trueman, stating, in very concise but 
 lady-like terms, that she thought the happiness and peace 
 of her family required that their acquaintance with her 
 should cease. " For," said she, " I cannot allow my chil- 
 dren to be influenced by one guilty of such hollow-hearted 
 deception as I know you to have been. I beg of you, 
 as you value your own happiness and reputation, to de- 
 sist from your hypocrisy. Learn to be truthful and sin- 
 cere, like our darling Winnie ; so shall you make and 
 retain valuable friends. Your friend, L. C. TRUEMAN."
 
 SCENE IN A FACTO11Y BOARDING-HOUSE. 333 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 SCENE IN A FACTORY BOARDING-HOUSE. THE TEMPTER 
 
 FOILED. 
 
 " BEFORE I would be tied to an old maid's apron- 
 strings, Elida Lentell, I'd run away, or sell myself 
 cheap," cried Regena Steele. 
 
 " I suppose you would," was the indignant reply. 
 " Pray who among your numerous acquaintances is oc- 
 cupying that very unpleasant situation ? " 
 
 " Why, you. You are tied, hand and foot, to Hester 
 Strong's checked apron," she added, contemptuously. 
 " Catch me being led round, either, as Martha Manlie 
 leads you ! I mean to enjoy life." Elida blushed deep- 
 ly, and was about to give a scathing retort ; but the text 
 Hester had taught her to repeat, when her quick temper 
 was aroused, flashed into her mind. "He that ruleth 
 his spirit is better than he that taketh a city." So she 
 held the reins of her temper very firmly, and, with an 
 effort of her strong will, dashed away the portentous 
 cloud, saying, merrily, as she rose to her feet, 
 
 " Me tied, did you say ? Where, and how ? Girls, 
 do look. Am I tied ? I didn't know it." She looked 
 this way and that, whirled round with gravity, as if 
 searching for some hidden string. "I declare I can't 
 find the string. Do any of you sec it ? Cut it, do, if 
 you see it. ' licigh-ho ! ' as my grandpa says, 1 don't
 
 334 I1ESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 believe I am tied, after all. I test the question." And 
 the merry girl commenced dancing and capering around 
 the room, upsetting work-baskets, piles of work, &c., 
 until the laugh was turned against Regena Steele, who, 
 at length, exclaimed, 
 
 " Well, you ought to be tied, if you are not." 
 
 "That may be true/' said Elida ; "that isn't the 
 question. Am I tied, or am I not ? If any one thinks 
 I am not tied, let them manifest it by the usual sign. 
 It is a vote that Elida Lentell is not tied to an old maid's 
 apron-strings, nor the button-hole of a dandy," she said, 
 in a whisper. 
 
 " Do keep still," said Regena. " I never shall finish 
 my dress." 
 
 " 0, I'll keep as still as I can," was the meek reply, 
 "if you will only exonerate me from the awful charge 
 brought against me. Come, am I tied ? Will you 
 promise not to think I am, if I will sit down and help 
 you tuck that skirt ? " 
 
 " Yes, yes, I'll promise anything, if you will only help 
 me about this contemptible skirt. It has plagued my 
 life out." 
 
 " Which way did it go ? I'm good for catching things," 
 said Elida, darting around in her own peculiar serio- 
 comical manner. "Here it is; I have found it," she 
 said, seizing a box of flowers and ribbons, Regena's ball- 
 room treasures. " There 1 now I'll sit down and help 
 you. Poor thing ! I do pity you. You see I don't 
 have my life worried out in that way. My wardrobe is 
 sensible and sober, if I am not. To be sure, I do lose 
 a good deal," she continued, demurely. " I can't be 
 out nights, and come home early in the morning. I'm
 
 SCENE IN A FACTORY BOARDING-HOUSE. 335 
 
 getting along in years, you see," drawing down her 
 face "have got to be sixteen and ' up'ards,' as aunt 
 Patty used to say, and haven't had a spark to my elbow. 
 That's bad ; but ' w'at 's to be done ? ' as Ann would 
 say. Girls, how do you go to work to catch 'em ? 
 Come, just enlighten my ignorance. I feel anxious : 
 time is passing. Sweet sixteen is the turning p'int now : 
 so I am just on the verge of maidenhood. It is funny 
 isn't it ? that some intelligent man don't pick me, when 
 I blossomed out so harndsome ? " 
 
 " You are a funny thing," said Clara Stillman. " I 
 wish you would be serious once in your life, and tell us 
 why you won't go to dancing school. You don't think 
 it is wrong to dance, for you learn the steps of us, and 
 dance like a top. You are as graceful as a kitten. You 
 would make a splendid figure in the ball-room. What 
 objections have you to going with Mr. Kendall ? He is 
 dying to have you. It is only to dancing school, you 
 see a select company, different from a ball. It would 
 make you graceful and easy in company." 
 
 " 0, you say I am as graceful as a kitten ; now 
 nothing can beat that. I dance like a top, &c. If I 
 should learn any more, I should go up like a balloon. 
 I couldn't stay down at all. It would be awful to 
 go capering about on air, expecting every moment to 
 come down on somebody. 0, I shouldn't dare to go ; 
 and if Mr. Kendall is in a dying condition, it wouldn't 
 be pleasant, you know." 
 
 "I do wish you would stop your bantering for once, 
 and answer me one question," said Rcgena. 
 
 " I am at your service, Miss Steele." 
 
 " Well, i.s it wrong to dance ? "
 
 336 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 " I think not. You sco I dance beautifully. I 
 shouldn't if it was wrong." 
 
 " Come, be serious do. Why won't you go with Mr. 
 Kendall ? He is a splendid fellow. Adolphus has always 
 known him ; and he thinks everything of you." 
 
 " I am sorry he does. I don't want any one to think 
 evil of me. I don't, truly." 
 
 " It isn't any use to try to talk with you," said Re- 
 gena, tossing her head in disgust. 
 
 "Well," said Elida, apologetically, "I wish I wasn't 
 so giddy ; but it was ' born into me,' as Artemus says, 
 and I can't help it-." 
 
 " I shouldn't want to help it," said several of the 
 girls. "I wish I had your fund of humor." Elida was 
 very thoughtful for a few moments, and then said, in a 
 serious manner, 
 
 " I have no objection to tolling you the reasons why I 
 will not attend dancing school, I am sure, or some of 
 them, at least. My mother died, as you all know, when 
 I was quite young. She was a Christian ; and when 
 dying, she solemnly commended us to God, and died 
 charging aunt Hester to train us up for his service. 
 She has been faithful, and as kind and self-denying as a 
 mother. I wish I had improved under her teachings as 
 Winnie has. She is a Christian, and I mean to be. I 
 wish 1 was now. Well, you see sixteen years isn't very 
 old, after all. I am only a child. I know my mother 
 wouldn't approve of my going. My dear aunts wouldn't, 
 and grandfather's folks would all be pained if I went ; 
 and sister Winnie would be more anxious than ever ; so 
 I shan't go. Besides, I am old enough to know that 
 I urn better off at home, just as happy in my way as
 
 SCENE IN A FACTORY BOARDING-HOUSE. 337 
 
 you are in yours, and not in half so much danger," she 
 added, solemnly. 
 
 " Just hear her ! I should like to know what danger 
 there is in going to dancing school or a ball once in a 
 while. Come, go on with your lecture." 
 
 " Danger of getting cold, for one thing," said Elida, 
 as Clara coughed ominously. " Secondly, danger of 
 falling in love, getting into a trap or a snare. 0, there 
 is ganger enough to keep me at home ; so let us dismiss 
 the subject. Mr. Kendall, poor fellow, must die or get 
 over it, for Elida Lentell will never attend dancing 
 school, nor a public ball ; for, young as I am, I can see 
 that it don't improve one mentally or morally, or make 
 one really any happier. I wish you would give up 
 going, girls, and attend Sabbath school won't you ? 
 "We can't live here always, and you yourselves have told 
 me of girls who were led into sin in the ball-room* of ' 
 terrible cases of wounded affection. Falsehood and 
 deception abound there, you say. Why will you go ? " 
 
 " Do hear Parson Lentell talk ! " said Regena. " If 
 anybody is so weak-minded that they can't resist tempta- 
 tion, they had better not live in the city." 
 
 " I don't think I shall leave the city to-night," was the 
 smiling reply ; " neither do I mean to test my powers of 
 resistance by going into unnecessary danger. I am well 
 an;l happy as need be. Besides, if / can resist, my ex- 
 ample nii^ht lead others into temptation which they could 
 not or would not resist, and I should cause my weaker 
 sister to offend." 
 
 " There, there," said Clara, with another of those deep, 
 hollow coughs, " I should think Hester Strong had come. 
 ' If meat cause my brother to offend, I will eat no meat 
 22
 
 338 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 while the world standeth,' is her favorite motto. ' Do as 
 you would be done by/ is another. She is so full of the 
 Bible that she runs over." 
 
 " It is something worth being filled with isn't it ? " 
 said Elida. "It is the word of God the way of life. 
 How much better to be filled with it than with beaux and 
 balls, laces artd flowers ! They must have an end ; but 
 the word of God standeth sure. I tremble when I think 
 that I must one day meet him," she said, in a low, sol- 
 emn voice. " Aunt Hester says we need not tremble 
 nor be dismayed if Jesus is our Friend, our Advocate. 
 There," she continued, drawing a long breath, " give me 
 credit for being serious once will you ? You see I am 
 not so thoughtless as I seem to be." Just then a letter 
 was handed to Elida. " From home ! " she exclaimed, 
 joyfully ; " now for a treat." In a few miuutcs she was 
 * absorbed in reading. 
 
 " Old maids write interesting letters," said Regena. 
 " What pleases you so ? lias Hester or Martha had a 
 call to be married ? Whom is your letter from ? " 
 
 " It is from aunt Hester." She made no reply to the 
 ill-natured remarks, but commenced reading items of 
 news. " Howard has graduated. Aunt Hester and Win- 
 nie went to Commencement. Envena went in Mr. True- 
 man's carriage." Clara and Regena looked at each 
 other. 
 
 " Then she has made out ! I wish her much joy, and 
 hope Winnie will be consoled by the idea that he has got 
 terribly taken in. Envena Wiley will make a sorry par- 
 son's wife." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " said Elida, looking from one 
 to the other. " What arc you talking about ? "
 
 SCENE IN A FACTORY BOARDING-HOUSE. 339 
 
 " Why, you little goose !" exclaimed both girls, in a 
 breath, " didn't you know Envena had been setting her 
 cap for Howard Trueman this two years ? Playing pious 
 or anything to get him. Isn't she cute, though ? " said 
 Kegeoa, laughing. 
 
 " I should suppose you thought something very, funny 
 had happened," said Elida, running her eye along over 
 the letter. She read, " ' Howard and Winnie rodejiome 
 together. Winnie is spending a week at Mr. Trueman's, 
 having a delightful time. Fortunately, this is her vaca- 
 tion. They will visit* all the friends, and probably ride 
 over to see you. You must have your photograph ready 
 for her. Howard has given her a beautiful album. Hat- 
 tie Gray and Henry Herbert are to be married soon. 
 Winnie and Howard will stand up with them.' Things 
 don't look very dubious do they?" said Elida, look- 
 ing up archly. " So Enveua hasn't been so very ' cute/ 
 after all has she ? " The two girls looked at each 
 other again. 
 
 "It seems not; but there is time enough in three 
 years. Now don't go to telling Hester and Winnie 
 what we have said. We were only in fun." 
 
 " Queer kind of fun wasn't it ? " and Elida looked 
 into the girls' faces with an earnest, puzzled look. 
 " You were not in fun," she said at length, " but in 
 earnest. You mean something. I shall write to aunt 
 Hester, and tell her just what you said. She will un- 
 riddle it all, and straighten things out. You know she 
 w;ts serve ! in that way once,' and is as sharp as a 
 needle." 
 
 " Now don't be such a tell-tale," said both girls. " We 
 didn't mean anything."
 
 340 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 "I am sorry you say what you don't mean, and sorry 
 to disoblige you ; but I must. I had rather get ' stove 
 in ' with love, or ' smashed up/ as your Adolphus says 
 he has, or be brought into a ' dying state/ like poor 
 Mr. Kendall ; for such folks are easily brought to, life, 
 and get over it nicely. Their feelings aren't quite skin- 
 deep. But Winnie 0, I couldn't bear it if anything 
 should separate her and Howard ! for I know they love 
 each other truly, and not after the ' dying rate ' that 
 some of our city beaux talk about. But there, I don't 
 mean to worry. Howard and Winnie are all right. I 
 don't like Envena ; but Winnie does. They shall have 
 my picture ; and besides, I shall go home with them, and 
 look after their interests as a good sister should ; for I 
 am beginning to think city life is not so very elevating 
 and instructive. I will try to be satisfied with the coun- 
 try in the future, for if in some respects there are more 
 advantages here, there are also more temptations for the 
 inexperienced. I am afraid I shall catch the contagion, 
 and get perfectly 'fascinated/ or ' bewitched/ or some- 
 thing, if I stay here. I am starving for the truth and 
 sincerity of home friends." 
 
 " I am sure I don't care how soon you go, if you are 
 going 'to lecture us, and set yourself up for a saint." 
 
 " I haven't done either," was the quick retort. " I 
 was only rendering a reason, and you importuned me to 
 do it. You see I have run a whole tuck while I have 
 been running my other rig. Good night my aged head 
 feels the need of sleep." 
 
 " I won't let her off so easy," whispered Regena. 
 " I'll contrive some way to get her for him. Adolphus 
 has told him I would, and I will. If he can only get her
 
 SCENE IN A FACTORY BOARDING-HOUSE. 341 
 
 to go with him once, he is sure of her the little witch. 
 Hester will have to pray more than once to keep her in 
 the narrow way, I'm thinking- the old fool! Just as 
 if we young folks didn't want to enjoy life a little, before 
 settling down to singing psalms. That is how she came 
 to be an old maid, I expect." 
 
 Clara coughed, and turned restlessly. 
 
 " Why don't you ask Augustus to get you something 
 to take ? Your eyes are getting red, coughing ; and be- 
 sides, you keep me awake. I hate to lie awake, it makes 
 me look so old.' 7 
 
 " Does it ? " said Clara. " I will sleep with Elida, 
 th'en ; I think she will be willing. It would be a pity to 
 injure your queenly beauty. It might spoil your market," 
 she added, bitterly. 
 
 " There, don't act so foolishly," said Regena. " You 
 know I am willing you should cough. But you ought to 
 take something. You won't be able to go to the dance 
 Wednesday night, if you don't that's all. Lie down ; 
 I want 3 r ou to help me trap that child." 
 
 " Well, I shan't," was the reply. " You have trapped 
 me, and led me to the edge of irretrievable ruin. I 
 tremble to think how near. I expect my life will pay the 
 forfeit of my dissipation and folly. I think there are 
 worse evils to avoid than being an old maid, which you 
 seem to dread so much. 0, I wish I were as good and 
 happy as Hester Strong is. Elida's lecture, as you called 
 it, has opened my eyes. Better never marry a thou- 
 sand times better than to wed unhappily, or lose one's 
 moral integrity by flirting and evil associates," she mur- 
 mured. "0, mother, mother, my poor, tried mother I 
 What wouM you say if you knew the danger I have 
 in ? How near to absolute ruin I "
 
 342 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 * 
 
 " What do you mean ? " said Regena, hoarsely. " You 
 don't mean to say " She had raised herself on her 
 elbow, and was looking down into the pale face fiercely ; 
 " you don't mean to say that you are better than I ? " 
 
 " I do," was the reply, " if you can plan and execute 
 such a fiendish deed as you propose." 
 
 " What do you mean, Clara Stillman ? Isn't Mr. Ken- 
 dall fine looking ? Doesn't he dress like a gentleman ? 
 How do I know what his intentions are ? He thinks her 
 extremely pretty is delighted with her brilliant, spicy 
 manner says she is nearly as fascinating as I am." 
 
 " lie did ! " said Clara, mockingly ; " then you allow 
 all men to flatter you ; and you think he might deign lo 
 marry her, since you are otherwise engaged. Regena, I 
 am confounded. You promised Hester that you would 
 take care of Elida. We were the means of her coming 
 here. I have felt guilty every time I have tried to induce 
 her to attend dancing school, knowing how her friends 
 feel about such things." 
 
 " Well, I haven't. I think young folks want to enjoy 
 life a little, before settling down to praying and singing 
 psalms. I intend to, at least, and I mean that Elida shall. 
 She will make a sensation yet ; and you might if it wasn't 
 for your squeamishuess. What is the harm of flirting a 
 little ? There is Mr. A., I bewitched him, but ' he has got 
 over it,' as Elida says. They do survive such terrible 
 spasms, and get over them amazingly quick ; and I enjoy 
 such things. Life would be intolerably dull without a 
 little romance. I pity the poor fools that always begin 
 to prepare to die as soon as they are old enough to enjoy 
 life. I never was so happy as now. To be sure, I didn't 
 mean to carry the joke quite so far with Mr. P., for I
 
 SCENE IN A FACTORY BOARDING-UOUSE. 343 
 
 like his wife, and ho don't get over his infatuation. When 
 I am married I shall look out for handsome, fascinating 
 girls. I shan't ask them to ride or .walk with my hus- 
 band, I assure you. It is strange how blind some folks 
 are. Just as if we can help such things ! , We arc made 
 just as we arc. If married women can't " 
 
 " Stop, Regena Steele ! you astonish me more and 
 more," said Clara. " Is it possible that you mean what 
 you say ? Is it possible that I understand you ? Dare 
 you say that you are not a free moral agent, and account- 
 able to God ? 0, I didn't think it. I am, indeed, in dan- 
 ger. The sentiments you have uttered are blasphemous 
 and sensual. I know I have been vain and frivolous ; 
 spent precious time in childish amusements, and exposed 
 myself to evil, pernicious influences. I tremble when I 
 look back upon the past. 0, there have been moments 
 when my feet have well nigh slipped. I stood there 
 thoughtlessly, defiantly. What if I had fallen ! " She 
 covered her face, and cowered as if peering over into the 
 awful depths of some slippery chasm. " What if I had 
 fallen ! " Her voice was deep and hollow ; she shud- 
 dered. " I might ; others no more thoughtless and giddy 
 than I have fallen to rise no more." 
 
 " Come, Clara, you are getting nervous," said Regena. 
 " You needn't feel so ; you haven't fallen, and there is 
 no danger of it. You and I are strong enough to stand 
 looking over the most stupendous precipice that was ever 
 gotten up by flirtation, and be in no danger of falling 
 into the yawning abyss. Why, haven't I done it time 
 after time ? Just keep a cool, steady head, and you can 
 stand upon the very edge of the bottomless pit, and be 
 saved. I am speaking figuratively; of course Ihcrc is
 
 344 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 no such place. God never made us to curse and torment 
 us forever ; so let us go to sleep. You are sick ; that 
 is all." 
 
 " You may sleep I cannot. I am terribly awake to 
 a sense of my sins. 0, I believe the Bible. It is full of 
 threatenings against the workers of iniquity those that 
 forget God. That I have done. God has not been in all 
 my thoughts." 
 
 " Do keep still," was the impatient reply. " I want to 
 go to sleep." 
 
 " I can't keep still until I warn you to escape for your 
 life. Forsake the evil companions you have chosen ; 
 associate with the good and virtuous, and there are 
 many even in this boarding-house, for I tell you you 
 are in danger of ruin, irretrievable ruin. I see it, if you 
 don't. You are playing a dangerous game. You are 
 sowing the wind, and will reap the whirlwind, the storm, 
 ay, the tempest. I tremble for you if you have cast off 
 the fear of God." 
 
 "Well, you needn't; I know what I am about. I 
 shall come off with flying colors yet. Adolphus is as 
 rich as a Jew. But don't quote Scripture to me, it don't 
 take effect. Better quote Shakespeare, or somebody we 
 know something about. I expected you would make a 
 draft on Hester Strong." 
 
 " 0, Eegena, Regena ! do you disbelieve the Bible ? 
 Then I shall talk in vain. I was not aware that I had 
 treasured up so many passages. All that I learned at 
 Sabbath school come back to me to-night, with great force 
 and power. Those were contented, happy days, com- 
 pared with my most successful days of folly, or what you 
 would call my most brilliant conquests. I thank God I
 
 SCENE IN A FACTORY BOARDING-HOUSE. 345 
 
 cannot boast of many, and there are no married men 
 among the number. I never dreamed of such a thing. 
 The thought is extremely revolting to me. You say you 
 enjoy it and are happy. You are deceiving yourself; 
 for certainly you appear unhappy, dissatisfied, and irri- 
 table. You are growing more and more restless, when 
 not in hot pursuit of some phantom you call pleasure. 
 But I must leave you. We have been companions in sin, 
 I hope we may yet walk together in the path of peace. 
 I think my mother's prayers have kept me from the com- 
 mission of any act of immorality, and I mean to pray 
 that your eyes may be opened before it is too late." 
 
 " Better pray for the removal of that cough. It is 
 very annoying to me, at least." 
 
 Poor Clara lay quite still for some time, wondering if 
 Regena had changed so very much, or whether she had 
 been blinded to her faults. How unprincipled and un- 
 feeling she was ! and she had manifested so much affec- 
 tion for her, especially in company. She was imperious 
 and exacting at times, it was true, but she was beautiful 
 and brilliant could flatter, caress, and cajole in turn. 
 They had been friends from childhood. Regena went to 
 the city several years previous to Clara's going, and was 
 far advanced in dissipation before Clara joined her. Thus 
 far they had gone hand in hand outwardly. Regena, like . 
 a skilful general, led her victim along successfully, until 
 sickness, caused by exposure, startled her from her false, 
 delusive dream. She resolved to go home immediately, 
 and persuade Elida to go, if possible. She became so 
 distressed in body and mind, that she could bear it no 
 longer. She arose, dressed herself, and was preparing 
 to leave the room, when Regena said, derisively,
 
 346 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 " Go and expose me if you dare. I have an influence 
 in this house have been here longer than you. I de- 
 spise the praying old fool that keeps it ; but she don't 
 know it. I looked out for that." 
 
 " Kegena, I shan't report what you have told me in 
 conGdence. I am still your friend, and would save you 
 if I could, but feel that I have enough to do to settle 
 my own accounts. That child's words, ' We can't live 
 here always/ are ringing. like a death-knell in my ears. 
 We must one day meet Him. 0, Regena, Rcgena ! I be- 
 lieve I am worse than you now ! I have been to meet- 
 ing and Sabbath school a great deal more, and my mother 
 has been a Christian for years. What shall I do ? 
 what shall I do ? " Regena was alarmed at her dis- 
 tress. She saw that she was very pale. 
 
 " I will go call Mrs. D.," she said ; " you lie down." 
 
 "I can't lie down; but call her do: I am afraid 
 to die." 
 
 " You won't die. Here, smell of my cologne." Mrs. 
 D. soon comprehended the state of the case. She took 
 the poor girl to her own room, and did what she could 
 to make her comfortable. 
 
 " What arrested your attention to your sins ? " in- 
 quired Mrs. D. 
 
 " I hardly know. We were urging Elida to attend 
 
 dancing school, and some things which she said affected 
 
 me, and J couldn't shake off the feeling. I sneered at 
 
 religion, and it seemed as if a strong hand was laid on 
 
 my arm, holding me just in sight of my sins." 
 
 " My dear, I am glad you are standing there. Don't 
 turn away your face, but look 'at them, search for them, 
 till you hate them, and feel that they are such a terrible
 
 SCENE IX A FACTORY BOARDING-HOUSE. 347 
 
 burden that you are glad to lay them at the foot of 
 the cross. I am glad that your false security is dis- 
 turbed. Don't think me unfeeling. I want you to be- 
 come thoroughly sick of sin ; for I know of a Physician 
 that will heal you when you feel your need of him. 
 ' Ask, and you shall receive ; ' knock, and the door of 
 mercy shall fly open. Shall I pray with you, my dear ? " 
 
 " Yes, do ; for I dare not. 0, I dare not pray ! " 
 Thus the hours wore away. Neither Clara nor Mrs. D. 
 slept much that night. Regena also was disturbed and 
 sleepless. She regretted having revealed her scepticism 
 and other secrets to Clara, especially now she was so 
 unwell. Far down in her soul she feared the Bible 
 might be true. What if it was ? She tried to silence 
 the still small voice bade the Spirit depart for this 
 time, thinking, 
 
 " When I have been married a while, and am tired of 
 this life and its pleasures, I will consider these things ; 
 but not now. I am getting tired of this folly, and espe- 
 cially of flirting. I think I shall hold on to Adolphus. 
 lie is handsome, and there is a golden charm about him. 
 I led him captive, and now he is at my will and pleasure. 
 I'll keep him there. I don't care what comes, I'll marry 
 him, just as soon as his fortune is secure. He says he 
 must move cautiously, or his aristocratic father will put 
 him on short rations." And so the deluded girl went 
 on, weaving web after web of bright, beautiful tissues, 
 which were to prove as vain as vanity itself, and as false 
 as the life she was now leading. 
 
 " Clara is very sick, liY^vna," said Mrs. D. in the 
 ing. " You will have to come out and take care 
 of her, 1 think."
 
 348 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 " Me ? Why me ? I can't. I am making excellent 
 wages." Mrs. D. was puzzled. 
 
 " I thought you were such good friends," she said, 
 "that you would wish to take care of her. Of course 
 she must have some one. My duties are such that I 
 cannot take care of her. Poor child ! I wish she was 
 at home with her mother." 
 
 " I wish so, too," was the impatient reply. " Get 
 Elida to stay with her, or send for her mother." She 
 saw that she was falling in the estimation of the board- 
 ing mistress, losing all she had gained by flattery and 
 deception for her own selfish purposes. She must make 
 a bold attempt to maintain her standing. " Mrs. D.," 
 she said, " I have good reasons for being disgusted with 
 that girl. If you knew the cause of her sickness, as I 
 do, you would send her off." 
 
 " Not while she is suffering so severely, both physi- 
 cally and mentally, I assure you. But what has hap- 
 pened ? You recommended her highly." 
 
 " I know it ; I am sorry I did. But really, Mrs. D., 
 I didn't know her. I have been here a long time, and 
 she was a good, virtuous girl when I left home. Don't 
 blame me will you? Get Elida to stay with her, and 
 write to her mother. Stay ; I will write to her. She 
 will be here in a day or two. But don't lisp a word of 
 what I intimated. She hasn't done anything that will 
 come out and injure you. I am sorry I brought her 
 here." Mrs. D. was sorely perplexed. Eegena had 
 succeeded in ingratiating herself into her favor. She 
 admired her self-reliant disposition, and thought her a 
 girl of good moral principle. She regretted that she- was 
 BO taken up with the world, hoped she would become a
 
 SCENE IN A FACTORY BOARDING-HOUSE 349 
 
 Christian, and Clara, as her friend, had been favored. 
 Her confidence in Clara was shaken, and it was hard for 
 her to speak kindly to the suffering girl. " She must 
 have done something terribly amiss," she thought, "to 
 estrange Regena so much. No wonder she is concerned 
 for her sins." And so there was a coldness in her man- 
 ner which the sick girl felt keenly. But Elida was a 
 gentle, tender nurse. 
 
 "I must stay out," she said to her overseer's objec- 
 tions; " I must, even if I lose my place. She has no 
 friends here." She was thinking of the meanness of 
 Regena's conduct. 
 
 " Well, if you must, you must," was the reply ; " but 
 come back as soon as you can." 
 
 "There," she said, coming into the sick room, "I 
 have weathered the cape, and am here safe and sound. 
 And now I shall devote my splendid abilities to this 
 homesick patient. You see, I sprang from a long line 
 of successful doctors, and nurses, and invalids, too ; so 
 cheer up, Clara ; for I, the renowned Miss Lentell, am 
 at your service just as long as it is necessary." Clara 
 smiled so sadly, that Elida ceased her bantering tone, 
 and inquired, 
 
 "What is it, Clara? You are heartsick, too aren't 
 you ? Don't be discouraged ; you will be better soon. 
 I will put some mustard on your side, or hot water ; 
 which shall I?" 
 
 "Mustard, I guess; the pain is severe. But, Elida, 
 what you said last night is sounding like a death-knell 
 in my cars. ' AVe can't stay here always.' I feel that. 
 I cannot stay here long, arid I fear to die. 0, my siiis I 
 my sins ! "
 
 350 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 "Forsake them," said Mrs. D., coming into the room 
 " forsake them, or they will destroy you. If you are 
 truly sorry for them, and not suffering from fear of ex- 
 posure, why, God can and will forgive them, though they 
 are many and heinous. I don't know what your peculiar 
 guilt is ; but you do, and God knows." 
 
 " I don't know," said the sick one, much agitated, 
 "that I have any peculiar sins. I have transgressed 
 the holy and righteous law of God all my life. 1 have 
 been vain and thoughtless." 
 
 " Is that all?" said Mrs. D., looking her steadily in 
 the face. She was painfully embarrassed, and did not 
 reply. Mrs. D. left her with the impression that she 
 was a deceiver that her sins had found her out. Elida 
 and Clara saw the change in Mrs. D.'s appearance, but 
 could not account for it. 
 
 " I thought she was a Christian," mused Elida. " I 
 wish 0, how I wish aunt Hester or Winnie was 
 here ! But I know you are not a very great sinner, 
 Clara ; and, if you were, it would be all the same. 
 Why, if God can forgive one sin, he can a million 
 of course he can. If Jesus could forgive that vile thief 
 on the cross, he can forgive you ; and he will, now that 
 you feel so sorry. I shouldn't wonder if you were for- 
 given. I wish I could repent, as you do ; I should cer- 
 tainly expect forgiveness. I long to be a Christian, like 
 Winnie ; and aunt Hester always rejoices when any one 
 is under conviction, almost as much as she docs when 
 they are converted. ' It is the Lord's doings/ she says ; 
 ' it is marvellous in our eyes.' She says we must al- 
 ways walk softly at such times, and we will. I will stay 
 with you day and night ; no one else need come in : I
 
 SCENE IN A FACTORY BOARDING-HOUSE. 351 
 
 won't let them. I will ask the doctor to tell them not 
 to. I will read the words' of Jesus to you; and who 
 knows but he will say, ' Peace/ to you, as he did to 
 his disciples that stormy night ? " 
 
 " I can't think what has come over Mrs. D.," said 
 Clara. " She seemed so kind and motherly last night ! 
 She talked beautifully and prayed with me. It pains 
 me." 
 
 " Well," said Elida, " you turn over so that I can 
 apply this poultice. I never made one before ; but I 
 have seen scores of them made. There, now, don't 
 think of Mrs. D. again to-day. Perhaps something in 
 the house troubles her. Aunt Ilester says Satan is al- 
 ways getting up a fuss about something when folks are 
 serious." Clara grew calm under Elida's affectionate 
 treatment, and finally fell asleep, saying, 
 
 " I thank you, Elida. I shall always remember this 
 hour."
 
 352 HESTEK STROXG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 HESTER'S FAITH REWARDED. A LEAP IN THE DARK. 
 DECEIVED AND DESERTED. 
 
 " ELIDA, what is it that weighs so heavily on Miss 
 Stillman's mind," said Mrs. D., with a searching look, 
 which called a blush to her face. 
 
 "Why," said Elida, " she is under conviction, they 
 call it. I thought Christians knew about those things. 
 I have heard aunt Hester say that the most innocent are 
 very guilty in God's sight. She says when the Spirit 
 searches out our sins, and sets them in order before the 
 very best of us, the sight is overwhelming ; because 
 enmity against God and the rejection of Christ are the 
 most heinous of sins, and the only sins that will close 
 the door of heaven against us at last." 
 
 Elida blushed again beneath the earnest, inquiring gaze 
 of the boarding mistress. 
 
 " I don't know these things by experience," she said : 
 " I wish I did. I have heard so much about repentance 
 and faith, regeneration, and all those things at home, that 
 I ought to be belter than I am. But my heart is hard. 
 I wish I was awakened as Clan is ; I would arise and 
 go to rny Father's house at once." 
 
 " Elkla," said Mrs. D., " I didn't know you could stop 
 to think a serious thought. 1 am glad you can. Much 
 good seed has fallen into good ground, as I perceive. 1 
 hope it may yet bear fruit to the glory of God."
 
 HESTER'S FAITH REWARDED. 353 
 
 " I hope so," was the reply. " I have had line upon 
 line, precept upon precept." 
 
 " Did you use to see Clara often at home ? " 
 
 " Yes, we were near neighbors." 
 
 " What was her reputation in the village ? " 
 
 " Good very. She always went to meeting and 
 Sabbath school there. Her mother belongs to the church. 
 Aunt Hester said she should not be willing for me to 
 come if she were not here." 
 
 " Did she ? I fear she did not know her," was the 
 mysterious reply. 
 
 " You surprise me," said Elida. " Aunt Hester knows 
 everybody in the village. Folks come to her with their 
 troubles and trials, their joys and sorrows, and their sins, 
 too, often." 
 
 " Well, what is the cause of her sickness ? " said Mrs. 
 D., with an incredulous look. 
 
 " A bad cold, or rather several bad colds, taken fool- 
 ishly, of course. But is it more sinful to be out late, if 
 you happen to get cold, and make a little trouble ? Is 
 it ? " she said, with some warmth. " If I were a Chris- 
 tian, I wouldn't allow my boarders to have night keys, 
 and be out late. Perhaps it is all right, but my aunt 
 Hester wouldn't think it was." 
 
 She retreated hastily, leaving Mrs. D., in her turn, some- 
 what confounded. 
 
 " There," thought Elida, " I didn't rule my spirit that 
 time. I have made a bad matter worse. But it is pro- 
 voking. 1 thought Christians were all living for Christ, 
 and not for self. 0, yes, they can be out ever so late, 
 in all kinds of company, at all times, provided they don't 
 take cold and get sick. That is decidedly immoral ; it 
 23
 
 354 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 mustn't bo allowed. Poor Clara ! She migiit have kept 
 you in. It is against the rules of the corporation for the 
 girls to be out after ten. But that Rcgena will wheedle 
 anybody into anything, almost. I wish Mrs. Stillman 
 would come. I don't know, I am sure, why I have not 
 fallen in with some of her numerous plans for my advance- 
 ment in life. I have felt amazingly inclined to. Mrs. 
 D. needn't be alarmed. I shall take care of Clara till her 
 mother comes : and I shall ask the doctor if she can't be 
 moved into my bedroom. She shan't trouble any of 
 them. There ! now I feel better," she said, as she arose 
 from the top stair where she had been sitting, to " smooth 
 her ruffled feathers," as she would have said if there had 
 been any one to speak to. 
 
 " Elida," said Regena, who had put her head in at the 
 door to inquire after the sufferer, " Elida, I want to speak 
 with you." 
 
 " At your service for three minutes ; my cares are 
 numerous, you see." 
 
 " Yes, I see," she said, when the door was closed. 
 " It is too bad. She ought to have been more careful." 
 
 " It will be your turn next," said Elida ; " sickness is 
 no respecter of persons. I, even I, venerable and staid 
 us I am, have taken several very successful colds in my 
 day." 
 
 " Well, never, mind, you little hector, I want you to 
 attend a select party to-morrow evening, at the agent's 
 t-plendid new house. Adolphus got the invitation for 
 you, and you will ride with us. He says you will grace 
 any society, and I think so. I want to have the honor 
 of introducing you." 
 
 Elida was considering. She would like to attend a
 
 HESTER'S FAITH REWARDED. 355 
 
 select party, and see the inside of the beautiful new house 
 and the imported furniture. Eegena saw it, and took 
 courage. 
 
 " You could wear your blue cashmere, and I will lend 
 you my white sash, gloves, &c. It needn't cost you a 
 cent. Hester wouldn't object. Why, it is no worse than 
 a donation party. You will go won't you ? " 
 
 Elida hesitated. 
 
 " Wliat will they do for entertainment ? " 
 
 " 0, there will be music, and pictures, &c., &c." 
 
 " What kind of a thing may the ' &c.'s ' be ? Dancing, 
 and whist ? or euchre, or what ? " 
 
 " How can I tell ? Mr. attends church constant- 
 ly ; of course there will be nothing improper. Come, 
 say you will go, that is a dear good girl." 
 
 Elida bowed her head on her hand for a moment, but 
 raised it suddenly. 
 
 " No, I can't go ; I am ' out a nussin',' " she said, in 
 her peculiar, droll way. 
 
 " 0, nonsense ! some of the girls will watch with 
 Clara. She can think you are sleeping, and you need 
 to be." 
 
 " Yes," said Elida, " and that is reason number two 
 why I shan't go. I do need all the sleep I can get ; but 
 I shall not leave Clara for an hour till her mother comes. 
 I thank you all the same, but I can't go." 
 
 " You are a perfect little gosling," was the impatient 
 reply. " I shan't try to bring you out." 
 
 " Goslings always come out themselves," was the 
 laughing r-^ponse, " when they have staid in long enough. 
 Perhaps I shall, for you say I am perfect. Better be a 
 perfect gosling than an imperfect goose hadn't I ? 
 There's hope of me."
 
 356 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 " Nonsense ! it isn't any use to try to reason with you. 
 You were born and brought up an old maid." 
 
 " Pity me, then ! " was the doleful reply. " 0, pity 
 me, and don't tempt me out of my safe retreat, for I 
 might get terribly ' smashed up ' by that wicked, mis- 
 chievous fellow, whom lovers and poets call Cupid. And 
 there would be nary a beau to pick up the pieces, or a 
 tinker to repair the awful damages. 0, I'm better off at 
 home ; " and she darted out of sight. 
 
 Dr. W. was very inquisitive that day, the girls thought. 
 His examination was thorough, and rather embarrassing. 
 He decided that the case was lung fever, attended with 
 unfavorable symptoms ; so he told the boarding mistress. 
 
 " Nothing worse than that ? " was the reply. 
 
 " No, but that is bad enough. I don't like the sound 
 of her cough. She will get up, I think, but not well. 
 She has been neglected." 
 
 " I fear she has," was the sad reply. " She has 
 coughed terribly for some time, but she would go out 
 evenings. Perhaps I ought to have let her mother know 
 it, or insisted upon her doing something. I have too 
 many cares." 
 
 " Yes, you have," said the doctor, musingly. " You 
 say you have had dark insinuations. Well, I see nothing 
 wrong. Who insinuated ? " 
 
 " A friend of hers Regena Steele." 
 
 " Why," said the doctor, starting back, " does she 
 board here ? I have seen her," he looked at Mrs. D. 
 significantly, " and heard of her too. A friend of mine, 
 a pure-minded, lovely, unsuspecting woman is suffering 
 severely through her means." 
 
 " Why, what do you mean, doctor ? " said Mrs D.,
 
 HESTER'S FAITH REWARDED. 35T 
 
 sinking into a seat. " What can you mean ? She has 
 boarded here four years. It must be another person." 
 
 " I gues's not." He described her. 
 
 " Yes, that was she. Well, what of her ? What has 
 she done ? " 
 
 . " 0, nothing new, that I know of. She is an unprinci- 
 pled flirt perhaps nothing more ; but my faith in her is 
 small. You had better look after her." 
 
 " I will, but I can't believe it is she. I am astounded." 
 
 " Do you remember Mr. P., that used to visit her two 
 years ago ? " inquired the doctor. " At least, I suppose 
 he must have come here. He escorted her to concerts, I 
 have seen them there, and to balls I am told. I know 
 they rode together all day one Fourth of July." 
 
 " Yes, I remember him ; he is overseer in one of the 
 rooms. He calls now, once in a while. What is the 
 matter with him ? " 
 
 " 0, nothing, perhaps. He is the husband of one of 
 the best women I ever knew, and Regena Steele knows 
 it. His wife was an old friend of hers. She betrayed 
 her confidence, and stole her foolish husband's affections, 
 such as they were, and left her sad and broken-hearted. 
 And now Regena is keeping company with a real black- 
 leg, an imp of Satan. I have it from pretty good author- 
 ity that his business in this city of spindles is what do 
 you think ? I blush to speak it ; and I blush, too, that 
 when appearances are so much against him, still he is 
 received into what is called good society." 
 
 " Well, what is his business ? You haven't told." 
 
 " It is to decoy young men and maidens to destruc- 
 tion. I may as well speak plainly. I cannot say that Miss 
 Regena is his accomplice ; but she will be, or fall a victim in
 
 358 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 her unscrupulous race for conquest. He passes for a 
 Southern planter's son, but his movements are singular, 
 and the city officers are watching him closely." 
 
 " I am utterly confounded," said Mrs. D. " What can 
 we put confidence in, since we cannot trust our own 
 observation ? I can't, I can't believe I am so deceived. 
 I must have proof, positive proof, that we are both think- 
 ing of the same persons. What is the name of that man 
 you spoke of ? " 
 
 " Adolphus De Wert." 
 
 " Then I must give up the contest ; he comes here. 
 He is a fine-looking fellow. Is it possible ! is it possible ! 
 What shall I do ? " 
 
 " Keep a good lookout that no one in your house is 
 led out of it by her. A trap is set which will be sprung 
 soon. It is my opinion the sick girl is more sinned 
 against than sinning. So take good care of her." 
 
 " I will," was the reply. " I cannot be thankful 
 enough that the veil has been raised." 
 
 Elida and Clai'a were surprised again by her frequent 
 calls, and the kindly interest manifested. 
 
 " She may be innocent," thought Mrs. D. ; " but what 
 firm friends they have been ! Perhaps well, I don't 
 know, I can't know ; only Elida says her reputation lias 
 been good at home. And besides, whatever her charac- 
 ter has been, she is suffering and penitent now. I will 
 do all I can for her." 
 
 " Well," said Elida, " she has come to her senses at 
 last ; I am glad of it. These boarding-houses, with thirty 
 or forty inmates, must cause a vast amount of perplexing 
 care. That accounts for her treatment of you so don't 
 worry. I am going to get you well enough to go home
 
 HESTER'S FAITH REWARDED. 359 
 
 when I go. Won't it bo pleasant to feel safe once more ? 
 to know who is who, and what is what ? " 
 
 " 0, I do hope you will go with me ! " said Clara, with 
 unusual emotion. " I feel easier now." Elida looked 
 at her thoughtfully, but made no inquiries. 
 
 " I want to put an onion poultice over your lungs, 
 my dear," said Mrs. D. " It is one of the best reme- 
 dies I know of. I ought to have done it before. But 
 you girls can have no idea of the care and perplexity 
 I meet in one way and another. There, I am pretty 
 sure that will relieve you. How are you feeling in your 
 mind ? " 
 
 " More calm," was the reply. "Elida has read many 
 precious passages which I am sure were penned for me. 
 They have comforted me, and yet I cannot think I am a 
 Christian. I mean to seek until I am."- 
 
 " I am glad to hear it. You will not wish to attend 
 balls and assemblies when you get better." 
 
 " 0, no, indeed ! I have never enjoyed them as Re- 
 gena does. I went, in the first place, to please her. 
 But," she added, sadly, "henceforth our paths diverge, 
 unless she will go with me. I went with her until I 
 could go no farther. that I could make her sec; tho 
 danger, and turn back ! but I can't. 0, Mrs. D., couldn't 
 you save her ? " she said, imploringly. " I warned her ; 
 but she laughed at my fears, arid despised me for my 
 weakness." 
 
 " You had better not distress yourself, dear," said tho 
 kind hearted woman, as she began to comprehend the 
 reason of Regena's alienation. " You have dono your 
 duty, and now you must try to get well. A life conse- 
 crated to God is worth preserving. Can't you breathe 
 a lilllc easier ? "
 
 360 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 " I believe I can. I thank you for thinking of me." 
 " 0, you are welcome ! I will stay with you a part 
 
 of the night, and let Elida sleep." 
 
 " I get considerable sleep," said JSlida. " I would 
 
 rather take care of her than not, till her mother comes. 
 
 I thank you just the same ; but you need your rest, I 
 
 am sure." 
 
 " Where are you going to-night ? " said Mrs. D. to 
 Regena. 
 
 " 0, to a very select party at Mr. 's. Don't speak 
 
 of it to the boarders ; they are envious. Very few of 
 the mill girls are to be present, Adolphus says. How 
 do I look ? I miss Clara about dressing. Her taste is 
 perfect. She ought to have been more careful. Adol- 
 phus always sees to wrapping me up." 
 
 " Eegena, what if Adolphus should be an impostor, 
 after all a deceiver, and not a planter's sou ? which 
 isn't much better, in most cases." 
 
 Kegena turned pale for a moment ; and then the color 
 came, and the dark eye flashed, as she said, in a hoarse 
 whisper, 
 
 " I would kill him ; that is all. Why do you suppose 
 such an impossibility ? " she said, fiercely. 
 
 " 0, I have good reasons. I warn you to beware 
 what you do. I have done wrong in allowing you so 
 much liberty. After to-night, there will be no night-key. 
 Those who are out when the house is closed must stay 
 out." 
 
 " Very well," was the reply ; " I can find a home 
 where I can keep the keys in my own possession. You 
 can believe all that Judas Stilluian tells you, and wel- 
 come. I am provided for."
 
 A LEAP IN TUE DARK. 361 
 
 " Clara Stillmau, I suppose you mean, has not spoken 
 a word against you ; but you did mislead me, and she 
 has suffered for it. I have neglected her. We fear 
 she will die. Have you nothing to reflect upon ? I 
 have." 
 
 " No, I have not. She is a free moral agent, she says ; 
 of course she did as she pleased. But I wish people 
 would look after their own affairs, and not meddle with 
 mine. There is the carriage now. I am in a pretty 
 plight." 
 
 " I couldn't prevail on her to go, Adolphus," she 
 whispered ; " really I couldn't. Is Mr. Kendall in the 
 carriage ? " 
 
 " Yes ; he will be greatly disappointed." 
 
 " I am sorry," said Regena ; " but I will prevail yet." 
 
 Adolphus handed her into the carriage, said a few low, 
 indistinct words to the driver, and, springing in after her, 
 closed the door. 
 
 " Why, we are alone," she said. 
 
 " Mr. Kendall has turned driver for the fun of the 
 thing," was the reply, "and we thought Elida could bo 
 managed better in that way." 
 
 "Aren't we almost there ? " said Regena, faintly, as 
 they rode rapidly on, leaving the city behind them. She 
 thought of Mrs. D.'s warning. " Could it be possible ? 
 No, no, it couldn't be." 
 
 "Dearest," he said, putting his arm about her ten- 
 derly, "I am taking you away from that miserable board- 
 ing-house. My father's agent has come on. I wouldn't 
 have him know where 1 found you for the world." 
 
 " Where arc you taking me to, Adolphus ? " she said, 
 hoarsely, "and without my consent? I think at least
 
 362 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 you should have told me. I could have gone prepared. 
 How shall I get my trunks ? " 
 
 " 0, I will manage that. My love, I am taking you 
 to a beautiful city home, about thirty miles from here, 
 where 3 T ou can have everything. I meant to have taken 
 Eli la. The giddy little thing could have been easily 
 pacified, you know. She would have been company for 
 you in my absence, until I can take you to your own 
 homo in the sunny South. Kendall is so terribly in love 
 with her, that I thought I'd put her where she'd be" 
 obliged to listen to him." 
 
 Time will not permit us to follow the travellers. 
 Enough to say, that, before they reached their destina- 
 tion, Regena was reassured, and her confidence in Adol- 
 phus restored. At length, she found herself on the 
 steps of an elegant tenement, on a fashionable street in 
 the city. Servants were in waiting. It was just as he 
 hud said ; they were looking for her. How stylish the 
 hall w r as ! It would be better than working in the noisy, 
 dirty mill. 
 
 " I shan't have to start up at the sound of the bell, 
 half refreshed after being out late. They are never to 
 know I worked there. I must be guarded. I am glad 
 I am here ; but, after all, I should not have consented 
 to come, if he had consulted me about it, especially 
 after what Mrs. D. said. What could have possessed 
 her ? Clara must have been tattling. How envious they 
 will all feel when my marriage is published in the North- 
 ern papers ! De Wert is a lovely name, and the mar- 
 riage ceremony is to be imposing and grand. I shall 
 feel better to have them think I was born and brought up 
 a lady ; of course I shall. Adolphus is right there ;
 
 DECEIVED AND DESERTED. 363 
 
 they do look down upon labor with so much contempt, 
 negroes and all. Mr. Kendall admires me so much, I 
 wonder Adolphus don't get jealous. He appears to like 
 to have him attentive to me. I wouldn't allow him the 
 game privilege. I told him so. I will write mother in a 
 few weeks, telling her I am well arid happy, but not 
 where I am. I'm glad Adolphus don't know our real 
 poverty. He knows girls of some wealth and standing, 
 in our New England, do work in the mill. He thinks I 
 am such. Curse that liquor law ! It destroyed father's 
 trade." 
 
 Language would fail me to portray the anger and 
 mortification of the deceived, disappointed girl, when 
 she found herself in an elegant house, but she not its 
 mistress. Her door was locked, but another kept the 
 key. She was a prisoner without hope, filled with rage 
 and chagrin. She remembered the words of Clara, " You 
 are sowing the wind ; you will reap the whirlwind, the 
 storm, ay, the tempest." 
 
 " I am caught in my own trap," she thought, bitterly. 
 "I have taken a leap in the dark, and fallen ; fallen. 
 I am not the mistress of a Southern plantation, but a 
 slave. If I could reach the wretch who deceived me, he 
 should bite the dust. Well, I am in the pit at last ; but 
 it isn't bottomless. God, I wish it was. But I will 
 reign a queen even here. I have been bitten. I will 
 bite back. I can yet make conquests." Thus the mis- 
 guided girl consoled herself. She found her trunks, 
 nicely packed, in her room one morning. How they 
 came there she knew not. " I will let them think 1 am 
 at the South," she mused. " They shall never know 
 how fallen I urn." Airs. D. was not much surprised that
 
 364 IIESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 she did not return that night. " She has found another 
 boarding-place," she thought. The next day an express- 
 man called at the door, and handed her a note from Re- 
 gena, as she supposed, saying, 
 
 "MRS. D. : Please pick up my things; pack my 
 trunks, and send them to me by the bearer of this note. 
 He will settle any accounts you may have against me, 
 and take a receipt. I thought it best not to annoy you 
 with my late hours. I took cold last night, and am in- 
 disposed to-day, or I would not put you to so much 
 trouble. REGEXA STEELE." 
 
 Scarcely had the expressman departed when the officer 
 of justice came to inquire for Mr. Adolphus De Wert, 
 alias Bill Jones, alias somebody else, and Mr. Morris 
 Kendall, alias Morris Fox, who, report said, visited the 
 house often in his company. Elida fainted when the 
 facts in this tragedy were brought to light. There was 
 no select party nothing but a plot to secure her per- 
 son. She told Mrs. D. of all she knew, and how nearly 
 she had been tempted to accompany Regena in her per- 
 ilous expedition. She wept, and gave thanks in turn. 
 Clara was shocked at the sudden departure of her early 
 friend, but knew not that the deceiver had been so fatally 
 deceived. 
 
 When the real character of the pretended Mr. De 
 Wert was made public, the friends of the deluded girl 
 felt painfully certain that she was with her " whose 
 house inclineth unto death, and her paths to the dead. 
 Ay, her house is the way to hell." 
 
 " Girls," said Mrs. D., impressively, as they were 
 seated at the dinner table, " take warning by this sad,
 
 DECEIVED AND DESERTED. 365 
 
 heart-sickening event. It is a fearful tiling to trifle away 
 one's life ! We cannot take coals of fire in our bosom, 
 and not be burned." 
 
 " 0, my daughter ! my daughter ! " said Mrs. Still- 
 man, who had just arrived, folding her arms around 
 Cfura ; "thank God that you and Elida escaped their 
 well-laid snares. 0, death were a thousand times better 
 than such a fate as Regena's. I cannot thank God 
 enough." 
 
 " To him give all the praise, mother," said Clara. 
 " But I must go home. I would die there. I never 
 prized it as I do now." 
 
 " And I, too, must go," said Elida. " Providence did 
 not send me here, and I dare not stay." 
 
 " There are thousands of good, pious girls in the 
 mills," said Clara. " One needs only to be a consistent 
 Christian to live here in safety." 
 
 "I know it I know it," said Elida; "but only 
 think how near I came to ruin. I can't get over the 
 shock I have received. I must go home." 
 
 " I am sorry to lose you and Clara," said Mrs. D. ; 
 "but I can't say a word against it. If such things can 
 be done in my own house without my knowledge, you 
 will be safer at home. After this I shall hardly dare to 
 trust my senses. I shall draw the reins tighter than 
 ever. There will be no more night-keys for favorites, 
 especially if they are pleasure-seekers." 
 
 " 0, Regena ! " said Hester Strong, " beautiful and 
 gifted by nature misguided, deceived, betrayed Rc- 
 gvna ! firewell ! Let the veil of night arid mystery fall 
 around thec to hide thy shame, while we weep thy fall. 
 God scathe the wretch that lured thee from virtue to
 
 366 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 vice loathsome, hideous vice ! Let all such be scorned 
 and treated with the most withering contempt by the 
 friends of God and virtue. Then our daughters and 
 sisters will be safe. The curse of God will follow and 
 consume the seducer, the libertine, the human fiend ! 
 We will not stand among that thoughtless, guilty num- 
 ber who smile upon and caress those murderers of inno- 
 cent loveliness. No, no ! we loathe and despise them 
 when we know them, and we pray, ' God help us to dis- 
 cern the truth, that our brother's or our sister's blood 
 be not found upon our skirts.' ' 
 
 " How true it is that the innocent have to suffer with 
 the guilty ! " said Mrs. Stillman. " I am glad that this 
 is not our home ; our rest remaineth." 
 
 Clara Stillman was but a shadow of her former self, 
 physically, when she reached her home in the village 
 a pale, weary, emaciated invalid ; but her soul was 
 stayed on God ; she had found peace in Christ. 
 
 '' I am happier," she used to say to those who came 
 to sympathize with her, " than I was when standing on 
 the giddy heights of folly and dissipation. Perhaps you 
 cannot believe it ; but it is true. To me, at least, the 
 ball-room, the card-table, the theatre were all unsatisfy- 
 ing. They left a sting behind. I enjoyed them by an- 
 ticipation, and often at the time ; then came regret, and 
 often disgust." 
 
 Elida fell upon aunt Hester's neck when she reached 
 home, and wept uncontrollably for a time. 
 
 " I have come back as good as I went, auntie ; but no 
 thanks to myself, for I wanted to join the giddy dance. 
 "Why, dancing was born in me, I do believe. If I had 
 been a finished dancer, I should have been overcome by
 
 DECEIVED AND DESERTED. 367 
 
 the temptation to attend balls ; and the game, once be- 
 gun, might have ended where poor Rcgena has gone." 
 
 " Well, I am glad to have my Sunshine back again," 
 said Hester. " We have been partially under a cloud 
 since you left home. You are a little wiser, I think, 
 too," she said, looking tenderly into the beautiful face. 
 " Now you will believe Martha and me when we tell you 
 that it is better and safer to dwell in the house of the 
 Lord than to enjoy the pleasures of sin for a season. 0, I 
 want my children to enjoy life in a reasonable, rational, 
 substantial way, so that when sickness, or trouble, or 
 old age shall overtake them, their peace shall flow on 
 like a river. I want it to last forever and ever in the 
 kingdom of God."
 
 368 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 FORT SUMTER is FALLEN. THE CALL TO ARMS. WEEP 
 
 ING AT THE VILLAGE DEPOT. 
 
 PATIENT reader, you have not forgotten April 14, 
 1861. 0, no ! you will never forget it. You remember 
 how the hot blood mounted to brow and cheek, how the 
 breath came slow and hard, and mind and heart seemed 
 crouching, as it were, beneath the mightiest, the newest, 
 the strongest emotions you had ever felt, when it was 
 said, 
 
 " Fort Sumter has surrendered ! " 
 
 Our flag, that was dearer to us than life, because the 
 most significant flag that ever floated in the air of evening, 
 or fluttered among the storm clouds on the seas, had been 
 disgraced, fired upon by the most cowardly and malicious 
 traitors that ever cursed a nation. The Infinite alone 
 can measure the height, the depth, the length, and breadth 
 of that gigantic deed, which was but opening the door 
 6f the most stupendous rebellion the world ever saw. 
 Reader, you know it all. The scenes of that day, and 
 those which followed it, have been written upon your 
 souls, as it were, with a pen of iron, and the ink was 
 blood the blood of fathers, of husbands, of brothers, 
 and friends ! 0, how many of those terribly truthful 
 passages are underlined, underscored, by the Buffering 
 ones in our land. How many loved ones that were, are
 
 THE CALL TO ARMS. 369 
 
 not I Their dust has mingled with the dust of traitors ; 
 their bones, whitening on the sin-cursed soil of slavery, 
 have made it free ! ay, free ! And out of the shadow of 
 the greatest grief which ever crushed the heart of a 
 mighty nation, the beautiful, the sublime pyramid of hu- 
 man freedom has been reared. Founded on eternal truth, 
 built with the solid granite of eternal justice, cemented 
 by the blood and dust of a nation's heroes, of the good, 
 the true, and the beautiful, and fashioned by the almighty 
 hand of Him who ruleth in heaven and on earth, it 
 shall stand secure. So " let the heathen rage, and the 
 people imagine a vain thing." 
 
 You remember that the nation sat thus but one little 
 moment, looking inward and upward. Then she arose, 
 breathed a long, deep breath, which sent the life-blood 
 coursing through every vein, causing the almost palsied 
 heart to leap with a mighty bound. She arose like a 
 p'iunt aroused from a dream of peace and safety to see 
 her flag trailing in the dust amid the smoke of battle and 
 the noise of war ; and the cry of " Treason ! treason ! " 
 flew like lightning over land arid sea. 
 
 " To arms ! to arms ! The foe is upon us ! God give 
 us victory or death," was the low, deep utterance of 
 every manly heart. 
 
 " God give us victory, or give us death," murmured 
 every true, noble-hearted woman, as she pressed her hand 
 over the fluttering heart, and bowed her head in silent 
 prayer to the God of nations and the God of war. " If 
 it had been an enemy that had done this, we could have 
 borne it." The nation arose, shook itself like the newly- 
 awakened lion, girded on the armor, and the conflict, the 
 awful conflict, began. Tyranny and oppression on one
 
 370 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 side, freedom and human brotherhood on the other. 
 There was terrible earnestness on either side ; on one 
 side bitter hate, malicious cruelty, wanton wickedness, 
 such as a demon would shame before, methinks. Such 
 was the wily foe that our dear ones went forth to meet. 
 But we knew that God was with them, and they must 
 prevail. 
 
 " God bless and keep you," were the parting 1 words of 
 Hester Strong 1 , as she stood on the platform of the village 
 depot. " God bless and keep you, AVallace, and Albert, 
 and George. Don't forget to read your Bibles. You 
 will find them near the top, on the right hand side. Carry 
 them near your hearts. God bless and keep you in the 
 day of battle, and in the hour of temptation shield you. 
 Be strong. Good by. Dear Mr. Elwood," she contin- 
 ued, turning to the young pastor of the village church, 
 who was going out as chaplain, " God bless you also, 
 and keep you, as you look after the spiritual interests of 
 our loved ones, and those engaged in a common cause." 
 
 Mr. Elwood looked pale and thoughtful. He had just 
 come from a sad, sad parting with one who was very dear 
 to him our old friend Lottie Gray. 0, there was weep- 
 ing in the village depot, weeping in hundreds of little 
 depots, as that early train went on its way ; weeping in 
 the country and the city, on the land and on the sea ; a 
 nation weeping, as she sent forth her noblest and best to 
 perish, it might be, by the hand of treason ; and that, a 
 base-born brother's hand. For this was the second call, 
 and we knew that the conflict must be long, that blood 
 must flow like a river. There was a crowd at the village 
 depot ; fathers, and mothers, and sisters, wives and 
 lovers. Little children were there, trying to comprehend
 
 WEEPING AT THE VILLAGE DEPOT. 371 
 
 the mysteries of war wondering why so many wept, 
 and smiled when weeping. Winnie was there, leaning 
 heavily on the arm of Howard; thanking God, in her 1 
 heart, that he was not accepted ; chiding herself for 
 the selfish joy, weak from the great struggle it had cost 
 her to say, " Thy will be done," when she thought that 
 brother, lover, and friends were to go together, fight, 
 and perchance fall. Elida was clinging to the arm of 
 Albert Gray in a paroxysm of grief. 
 
 "0, Wallace, take care of him. Albert, watch over 
 my brother, my only brother. Good by, good by," un- 
 clasping the unwilling arms, turning the weary steps 
 homeward, to wait, and watch, and labor for the absent 
 ones. Ilattie Herbert, the bride of a day, was there, 
 silent and pale. No word escaped her lips ; a smile 
 sadder than tears, a kiss, and the clasped hands open 
 nervously, and the train passes on. How near those 
 friends, left standing there, drew together in that hour of 
 parting ! How their hearts beat in unison, as they tried 
 to fill the great void, made by that parting hour, with 
 hopes of victory and success ! How they tried to hide 
 their fears, their doubts, their griefs ! 
 
 " You are doubly my daughter now," said Mrs. Gray, 
 folding Ilattic's shrinking form to her bosom. " We will 
 wait, and weep, and pray, till the tempest is over, dear, 
 and our Henry restored again." 
 
 " What if he should never, never come ? " 
 
 " We will hope and trust till the blow falls, darling; 
 and if come it must, God, our God, will help us. Let 
 us be cheerful. This is no time to sit idly down. Poor 
 Lottie ! it will go hard with her. The great hope of lid- 
 life may never be realized ; the new and beautiful joy
 
 372 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 which has sprung up in her heart may go out on the field 
 of blood. And Elida : how strange it seems to see her 
 bright face veiled iu sadness ! 0, we must be strong, 
 and try to strengthen them. How inexpressibly sad Mr. 
 Frank Lovering's folks looked ! " 
 
 " Why, has George gone ? " 
 
 " Yes. How brave the boys were ! how they tried to 
 be cheerful ! none more so than George. ' I shan't come 
 back/ he said, ' without a laurel wreath, or an epaulet 
 see if I do.' I suppose he and Lucy are engaged. 
 How very calm she appeared ! How noble, yes, I may 
 say beautiful, the boys all looked ! for Henry is a boy to 
 me, if he is married. Hattie, how little I thought, when 
 you received us so coldly, perhaps suspiciously, that 
 we should ever be drawn so very near to each other, and 
 by such a tender cord ! " 
 
 " 0, mother, never speak of that again, I beg of you. 
 I am ashamed of it, heartily ashamed of it. I saw my 
 mistake very soon, but was too proud to own it. I re- 
 gretted leaving home very much, when the time came. 
 I longed to have you or father urge me to give up going, 
 and stay at home ; for I found, soon after you came here, 
 that it was my home still a pleasant, comfortable home, 
 such as I had not known for a long time. It was hard 
 to work in the mill after that, I assure you. The motive 
 was gone, the stern necessity removed. It didn't seem 
 pleasant to go day after day, rain or shine, sick or al- 
 most sick. It was such a confinement I could scarcely 
 endure it ; but I thought you were displeased with me 
 for going, and I resolved to stay it out." 
 
 " Obstinate little thing," said Mrs. Gray ; " I don't 
 know who suffered the most, you, or I, or your father.
 
 WEEPING AT TIIE VILLAGE DEPOT. 373 
 
 How long should you have held out but for that sickness, 
 think you ? " 
 
 " I don't know, I am sure. How long did you take 
 care of me before I realized it was you ? " 
 
 " A week, I think. I found out your secret when you 
 little thought of letting me know it, and resolved to take 
 you home with me as soon as you were able to be moved. 
 You came ; I have never been sorry : have you ? " 
 
 " I should think not, judging by the way I have nestled 
 clown here, grudging every day spent away from home. 
 Mother, there is just a little drop of comfort in the 
 cup of sorrow the war has brought me. I shall stay iu 
 my home a little longer. I shrink from going into a 
 strange place." 
 
 How short the days seemed to the busy village folks ! 
 New- cares and new interests had sprung up in the fami- 
 lies of the absent ones. Home duties were interspersed 
 with labors of love for the soldier boys ; letters written, 
 with bits of news, kind messages, loving words, warn- 
 ings, and words of cheer ; letters received sad let- 
 ters, hopeful letters, full of love and bright with antici- 
 pation. How they passed from one to the other in the 
 families of the soldier boys ! How they rejoiced together, 
 or wept together, as the case might be ! And in those 
 awful pauses, when man was arrayed against man in the 
 deadly conflict, and there was no voice to whisper at 
 nightfall the fate of the absent, as the days lengthened, 
 and the hours moved slowly on, how hard it was to wait, 
 how difficult to hope and pray ! Then it was pleasant 
 to see the noble self-forgetfulness of those who suffered 
 most, and see them smile into each other's faces, as if they 
 would cheat themselves, and rob sorrow of half its sting.
 
 374 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 " What a blessing work is ! " Hester used to say. " Our 
 girls seem almost to forget their pain, in their eagerness 
 to encourage their soldiers and make them comfortable." 
 
 Reader, you know all this : why need I tell you ? The 
 village in our story was much like other villages, and 
 the human hearts in it like other human hearts, that beat 
 on and on in spite of anguish. Grief kills but slowly; 
 and hope is strong. Justice and truth go hand in hand 
 in the march of years. Let us leave our noble Lincoln, 
 our Abraham, chosen of God and the people to lead our 
 nation through the storm and the tempest, our generals 
 to lead our soldiers in the battle, and God over all, to 
 the end, and see what is the destined life work of our 
 little Fostina, or, as she is now called, Mary F. Lentell. 
 These are trying days to her. Hers is just the nature 
 to suffer and endure, and suffer on bend even to the 
 dust, and let the waves pass over ; to lie shivering, 
 bruised, and bleeding for a time ; then, arising to wipe 
 away the blood, and dust, and tears, patiently gathering 
 the mantle of hope about her yet cold and shrinking 
 limbs ; walking steadily on and on to meet and breast 
 another wave ; struggling to outlive the last one, beating 
 no retreat. Such ones are heroes God's heroes, man's 
 blessings
 
 FOSTINA'S LIFE WORK BEGINS. 315 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 FOSTINA'S LIFE WORK BEGINS. HESTER'S STORY OF HER 
 OWN CHILDHOOD. 
 
 " WILL my poor father be drafted ? " Fostina inquired 
 often. " Would it cure him of drinking if he went to 
 the war, auntie ? " 
 
 " Dear child," said Hester one day, " how very, very 
 much you think of your father ! Is that what makes 
 you so pale and thin ? " Fossie leaned her head on 
 that broad, loving bosom, closed her eyes wearily, and 
 sobbed, 
 
 " Auntie, I can't help it. My darling mamma loved 
 him, and I am his little girl. I have heard you say that 
 a little child shall lead them. You found it in God's 
 book. I am growing older and bigger every day, and 
 then I shall have to say, as Winnie did, ' I have lost that 
 opportunity.' ' She buried her face in Hester's bosom, 
 and wept passionately, as she had often done because of 
 her father's inebriety. " Rum-maker and rum-seller," 
 mused Hester, "what do you think God, the Judge, will 
 do with this child's tears, and thousands of other chil- 
 dren's tears ? wives' tears, and sisters' ? Ay, husbands, 
 and brothers, and fathers arc sometimes called to weep 
 over the sin and shame you cause. What if God should 
 gather up those tears into one dark, deep, briny ocean, 
 and doom you to drink from the bitter fountain? for-
 
 316 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 ever drinking- and forever dry thirsty and drinking, 
 but never satisfied. He is able, and it would be just. 
 And you know that you would call in vain for a drop of 
 water from the pure, cool fountain that flows on and on, 
 forever, near the throne. None ever pass the gulf. 
 ' Nor thieves, nor covetous, nor drunkards, nor revilers, 
 nor extortioners, shall inherit the kingdom of God.' 
 And such are ye. Dear child," said Hester, " I pity you, 
 and God pities you. That is what I used to tell Winnie. 
 Darling, God pities you. He can help you to bear this 
 life-long burden. Do you ever ask him, dear ? " 
 
 " Yes, auntie, and something tells me that if I should 
 go and stay with father, I could get him to sign the 
 pledge. Can I go ? " She looked up timidly into her 
 face. 
 
 " Fossie, you don't know what you are asking, dear. 
 Your grandmother Lentell is very cross and selfish, and 
 aunt Abigail is much like her. You could not stay 
 there; my little girl would die." -Hester told her all 
 the circumstances of her birth, how her mother had been 
 neglected, how very low she found her, and nursed her 
 back to life again. " And ever since," she said, " I 
 have watched over you in sickness and in health. And 
 now I am growing old ; I am beginning to feel infirm." 
 
 "You, auntie? "said the child. "Why, I thought 
 you were young. How old are you ? " 
 
 ""0, I have passed the allotted time of man's life. I 
 am more than threescore years and ten. I thank God for 
 so large a measure of health and strength.; but it cannot 
 last always. Some time I shall want the little one I 
 rescued from death, cherished so tenderly, and loved so 
 well, to lean upon. I, in my turn, shall need to be
 
 FOSTINA'S LITE WORK BEGINS. 377 
 
 cherished. Will Fossie do it ? or does she want to go 
 and live with those who have never done her a single 
 act of kindness, and blamed me for bringing you to 
 life ? " The child wound her frail arms around Hester's 
 neck impulsively, saying, 
 
 " Darling auntie-mamma shall have her baby to take 
 care of her when she is old and sick. I will come back 
 long before that. I will, auntie ; I know I shall. And I 
 will bring my father with me, and he shall plant the 
 garden, and cut the wood, and sleep in grandpa's room. 
 0, won't it be nice ! And then you will forgive your 
 little Fossie all her naughtiness won't you, auntie ? " 
 Hester looked down earnestly into the sweet, pale face 
 which was now radiant with hope, and sighed, for she 
 saw no chance to hope. " You will forgive your little 
 Fossie ? " she again inquired. " Say that you will, and 
 that I may bring him here when he is all cured. May 
 I ? " Her eagerness aroused Hester from a fit of ab- 
 stracted thinking. She clasped the child in her arms, 
 saying, 
 
 " Why, yes, my darling ; of course I shall forgive my 
 Fossie. She has been a good little girl so far, and I 
 hope she always will be. I don't expect she will be 
 faultless." 
 
 " Well," said the child, "may poor father come hero 
 when he gets well of drinking ? " 
 
 " Why, yes, indeed, he may, my dear, and welcome/' 
 Again the child clung to Hester's neck, this time in 
 silence. Hester and Martha were puzzled at the strange- 
 ness of her conduct. 
 
 " I don't know," said Martha, when they were alone, 
 "1 don't know but we shall have to let her go up
 
 378 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 there, and see for herself. It is strange what has 
 possessed her." 
 
 " Good by, little pet," said Hester, a few days after 
 this conversation. " Take good care of aunt Martha 
 till Winnie gets home, and then Howard will bring you 
 over to uncle Giles'. And we will go from there to 
 grandpa's won't that be nice?" Fossie clung to 
 Hester's neck, and seemed loath to part from her. She 
 crept to her room, and wept long and bitterly. She 
 then took a scrap of paper she had been sacredly keep- 
 ing for the occasion, and commenced writing word after 
 word till it was covered. She folded it with a sigh, 
 saying, 
 
 " Well, she will forgive me ; she has promised it, 
 and she never lies. I am glad she won't know it for a 
 week, and I shall almost get him to sign by that time. 
 No one has ever told him how wicked it was ; and ho 
 don't know he has got a little Fossie to love him." 
 She tied up some of her dearest treasures in a little bun- 
 dle, and, stealing out at the back door, took the road 
 which she had been told led to grandma Lentell's. 
 
 " It is only seven miles up there. Let's see ; auntie 
 told me once, when I asked her, that it was a straight 
 road from the tavern. I know where that is ; and I 
 must turn off at the right hand. I can find it. And the 
 house is built like my uncle Mason's. I guess they 
 will be glad to see me. I will tell them what I came 
 for. Why, I thought I should come to the tavern by 
 this time." And the little feet went faster and faster, 
 the little heart beat quicker, and the breath came harder. 
 " It is a great wa} T s farther walking than it is riding," 
 sighed the tired traveller. " I shall have to rest. I
 
 FOSTINA'S LIFE WORK BEGINS. 379 
 
 wish 1 could find such a beautiful arbor as Christian did 
 to rest in. I haven't any roll to lose, only my bundle, 
 and I could hang that on my arm. 0, here is a nice, 
 cool place under this tree. I can lean my head against 
 the tree, for it aches. I am glad aunt Hester promised 
 to forgive me, and glad I learned to write. Now she 
 will know where I am, and won't think I'm lost. I will 
 say my prayers first. " She knelt on the green grass, 
 and prayed that prayer which she had so often and so 
 sincerely uttered, closing with, 
 
 " Lord, save my father, and help me to reform him, 
 for Jesus' sake." That was the last she remembered. 
 Two hours passed, and she still slept. She was aroused 
 by the rattling of wheels, and sprang up bewildered from 
 her long, deep sleep, just as Mr. Trueman reined up his 
 horse. 
 
 " Why, little Fossie, is that you ? I thought you 
 would be farther along. Come, get into my carriage. 
 Aunt Martha is distressed about you, dear." 
 
 " 0, Mr, Trueman," said the child, distressed in her 
 turn, as she saw her bright dream of happiness vanish- 
 ing, " 0, Mr. Trueman, please let me go. 0, let me. 
 God wants me to. I have asked him a thousand times, 
 I should think, to save him, and he hasn't done it. I 
 know he is waiting for me to go to father, and lead him 
 back. 0, let me go let me go. I must!" She 
 knelt there on the grass again, folded her hands, and 
 prayed this time that she might, bo allowed to go on her 
 pilgrimage. " It is only seven miles," she said. " I 
 will come back long before aunt Hester gets old and lame. 
 I will, Mr. Trueman ; I will bring father, and we will 
 kill the fatted calf, and you shall come and eat some
 
 380 HESTER STRONG'S LIFK WORK. 
 
 it. Dear, good, kind Mr. Trueman, don't take me prison- 
 er," she said, as he alighted from his carriage, much affect- 
 ed by what he saw and heard. " 0, don't take me prisoner 
 and put me in jail, for I am not a deserter. I wrote it 
 all on a piece of white paper ; and I want to go back 
 myself and confess, when I have found my mission. I 
 heard aunt Martha tell aunt Hester she believed I wag 
 saved for some kind of a 'mission.' Aunt Hester nod- 
 ded, and whispered, ' Perhaps it will be to save her 
 father.' I heard it; but they wouldn't let me go ; and 
 so I went. 0, don't carry me away from my ' opportu- 
 nity ! ' Winnie lost hers." 
 
 " Be cairn, little Fossic ; I shan't take you prisoner, 
 and you are not a deserter ; you are a good little girl. 
 But I want you to go home with me now. Sec, the sun 
 is almost down ; it will be dark soon. You have had no 
 dinner, and will have no supper. You will have to sleep 
 out in the damp, dark night, and get cold, and die, per- 
 haps ; and then you will lose your ' opportunity.' But," 
 he continued, " if you will go home with me, they will 
 let you go. They must ; and I will carry you witli your 
 clothes, and come up in a week, and see if you want to 
 go home." 
 
 "I shan't, Mr. Trueman; I shan't go home till father 
 goes with me, and then I shall want to come. I shall 
 want a new -hat from your store, and some clothes that 
 are nice and clean ; and aunt Hester must come out to 
 meet us, and kiss him, and put a ring on his finger ; for 
 grandpa is dead, you know, and she will do just as well." 
 Mr. Trueman smiled sadly as he handed the young en- 
 thusiast into the carriage. " I am glad they don't call 
 me a deserter. I was afraid they would. That is awful
 
 FOSTINA'S LIFE WORK BEGINS. 381 
 
 isn't it ? They shoot them in the army ; and I didn't 
 know but you would take >me prisoner that means to 
 take people where they don't want to go. I hope they 
 will let me use my ' opportunity, ' and go to my ' mis- 
 sion.' AVinnie said father loved children ; and I am 
 growing so fast, I was afraid I shouldn't get him to sign 
 if I waited." Hester and Martha stood anxiously watch- 
 ing at the gate when Mr. Trueman rode up with the lit- 
 tle truant. Fossie seemed embarrassed when she met 
 them, and commenced crying. " Mr. Trueman says I 
 am not a deserter ; and I was coming right back, just as 
 soon as I had done God's errand : that is what he saved 
 me for. I knew you would be so glad. What made 
 you come home so soon, auntie ? " 
 
 " A\ 7 hy, darling, aunt Martha sent for me. You have 
 frightened us." 
 
 " /, auntie ? AVhy, I wrote it all in a letter. I 
 thought you would know where I was.' 7 
 
 " 0, birdie bird, didn't you know it was a long, long 
 way for a little girl like you to go alone ? didn't you, 
 dear ? You might get lost, and have to sleep out doors, 
 and take cold. 0, darling, don't ever do such a thing 
 again ; " and Hester kissed the little pale, sweet face, 
 from which the joys of childhood had been driven by that 
 accursed love of gain which pampers the drunkard's love 
 of drink. Martha left her work, and knelt J^y the child- 
 heroine, who was bound to their hearts by such a mys- 
 terious cord. 
 
 " Little Mary," she murmured, " my Mary, grand- 
 
 Mary, welcome home for a night. To-morrow, if 
 
 yi MI wish it, we will send you. But, precious, you will 
 
 '/ar;l, rmigh times. It won't be like this home. 
 
 They don't luve eacli other there."
 
 382 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 " "Won't they love me ? " said the child. " I guess 
 they will. God will make them ; he is going- with me." 
 Uester was weeping ; it was a strange sight for little 
 Fossie. Martha often wept ; she was used to that. 
 
 "Don't, auntie don't cry," she said ; " Fossie will 
 stay." 
 
 " No, darling. I am willing you should go. I was 
 thinking of the past, dear of the past ; thoughts 
 which you could not understand came crowding into 
 my mind thoughts and feelings buried long ago ; for I 
 have lived a great while in this world of changes. I was 
 thinking how many, many years I longed, with an inde- 
 scribable longing, to learn something of my father, who 
 perished on the ocean ; it was supposed shipwrecked at 
 sea in a gale. They knew the ship was lost, and the 
 crew were never heard from more. My mother clung 
 to the vain hope that he was saved. It was before I was 
 born, Fossie, just before ; and they said my mother 
 watched and waited, with a pale, calm face, month after 
 month. She watched and waited silently, wasting day 
 by day. They hoped her helpless baby would arouse 
 her from this waiting, listening posture ; but no. She 
 talked to rne of papa, my dear papa, saying, 
 
 " Hush, hush ! " with her finger to her pale lips 
 " hush ! the captain is coming hush ! " and thus si 
 sat, straining every nerve ; but he came not. They car 
 ried her far and near ; they did all they could to 
 her ; but she died, listening and waiting. They 
 me that when dying she started up, and reached out h< 
 arms, saying, with a smile of angelic sweetness, 
 last ! at last ! " and expired, leaving me a helpless it 
 fant. Fossie, 1 was older than you, I think, when I gave
 
 HESTER'S STOIIY OF HER OWN CHILDUOOD. 383 
 
 up the idea that I should see my father. I listened eager- 
 ly to stories of -wanderers returning. I imagined him a 
 captive on some lonely island. I thought of him as a 
 prisoner, and wished that I was a man, so that I could 
 go and find him. I dreamed of him as returning poor, 
 old, and sick, and sometimes as rich, and with a princely 
 bearing. Child, I can't blame you. Your father was 
 manly, and had noble qualities ; go and save him. I 
 will give you his last letter to your dear mother when 
 she was dying. I will read it over and over with you, 
 until you can read it to him. It may do him good. Tell 
 him you are sent to claim the fulfilment of that sacred 
 promise. Tell him his Harmony is waiting and watching 
 for him in heaven, and Jesus is waiting to forgive and 
 save." Fossie had listened attentively to Hester's nar- 
 ration. 
 
 " And so you didn't find your papa? He was hidden 
 in the sea. What made you feel better about him ? " 
 
 " It was my mother's dying expression. When I was 
 thinking it over one day, and weeping, it came into my 
 rnind with great power, that as the golden cord was 
 breaking, and the tried spirit released from its sufferings, 
 my father came to meet her. And from that day he was 
 dead to me." 
 
 " Did you tell any one of your feelings ? " said Mar- 
 tha. " I never heard of it." 
 
 " No," was the reply ; " they never knew anything 
 about it ; and I heard more than they thought, or I 
 never should have known that I was not in my own 
 father's house. It was chiefly visitors that spoke of 
 these things ; Mr. Lovering's family never. So, now, 
 dear, you sshall not have to run away to find your father.
 
 384 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 Since you wish it so much, we will consider that it is 
 from above, and bid you God-speed ; for I know you 
 have sought counsel of him in your childish way. Who 
 knows but you may save him ? " 
 
 " 0, I shall, auntie I shall. And when I come lead- 
 ing him home, I want you to come out with mother's wed- 
 ding ring, Winnie will let you have it, and put it on 
 his little finger, and kiss him and me. And aunt Maitha 
 must attend to the fatted calf, because she is the young- 
 est ; and Mr. Trueman is going to put clean new clothes 
 on him out of his store. lie said he would when we 
 were riding home ; and he said he might work in the 
 store, too. 0, won't the girls be glad, and Wallace, 
 and all ? " 
 
 " Yes, we shall all be glad, and methinks there will be 
 joy in heaven when that day comes," said Martha, rev- 
 erently. " But you will have to give me notice," she 
 continued, sportively, " or I can't get a good fat calf for 
 the joyful occasion." 
 
 " 0, that won't be any matter, auntie. It means that 
 we should be happy, and have something good, as we do 
 Thanksgiving Day doesn't it ? Will you both prom- 
 ise ? " 
 
 " Yes ; we will do all we can, dear. So pleasant 
 dreams ; for to-morrow your work, as a reformer, begins 
 in earnest."
 
 LOVE'S GOLDEN KEY. 385 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 LOVE'S GOLDEN KEY, OR A NEW ERA IN THE LENTELL 
 
 FAMILY. 
 
 " ARE you my grandmother ? " said little Fossie, as 
 Abigail Lentell opened the door. Abigail laughed a 
 coarse, derisive laugh. It was so strange, so new, to 
 the child, that she started back, and looked up earnestly 
 into the sympathizing face of Mr. Trueman, and then 
 back into the unsympathizing face of Abigail. 
 
 " What do ye want ? " said Abigail, sharply. 
 
 " I want my father, and he lives with my grand- 
 mother." 
 
 " Well, I ain't yer granny, nor yer father, ye see. 
 Whose young one are ye ? " 
 
 " I am aunt Hester's little girl, I am, and Morgan 
 Lentell is my father, and my grandmother's name is 
 Mehitable Hum," said the child, innocently. She had 
 heard Elida cull her that name till she really thought it 
 was so. 
 
 "0," said Abigail, sneeringly, "ye come by one of 
 yer aunts did ye ? What do ye want of yer father ? 
 The sot can't do nothin' for ye. They needn't pack ye 
 off up here ; we've got 'nuff to do to maintain him in his 
 laziness. So ye may tramp back." 
 
 " But I want to see my father," was the reply, as the 
 child folded her soft, delicate hands, and looked plead- 
 25
 
 386 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 ingly into the hard, sharp face. " I want to see him 
 I must. I have come to cure him of drinking rum, 
 and then he shall go to my home, and not trouble you 
 any more." 
 
 " Pretty tall doin's for a little scrimp like you." Abi- 
 gail was softened a little by the tearful earnestness. 
 " Come in, an' see what yer granny says. 'Twon't do to 
 put on no Loverin' airs 'fore her. C-a-1-1 ? " This was 
 said reluctantly, with a nod towards the carriage. 
 
 " No, I thank yoxi," said Mr. Trueman. " I will sit 
 here until you see whether the little Fostina will be per- 
 mitted to stay and get acquainted with her father's 
 family. She has longed to come, but her friends feared 
 she would not be welcome, and I perceive she is not. 
 But yesterday she actually started on foot, and alone, 
 and walked until, overcome by fatigue, she sat by the 
 roadside and slept. It was nearly dark when I found 
 her there, and she begged so bard to be allowed to come, 
 that I promised to bring her to-day. You sec she is a 
 brave little thing 1 , and thinks a good deal of the Lentell 
 connections." 
 
 " What ! run away from the Loverin V to come here ? 
 Sho ! she didn't, though ! " 
 
 " Yes, she did," was the reply ; " she is determined 
 to form your acquaintance. She is a frail child ; be 
 tender of her if she stays. But I hope she will be willing 
 to return with me. They will miss her sadly at home." 
 
 "They will, hey? Well, come, Fussy; that's yer 
 name ain't 'it ? let's go to granny. She's lame as a 
 horse. She'll like ye to bring her things, and take up 
 her stitches. An' I'll bake ye a turnover and twist ye a 
 doughnut, I guess, if ye wanted to come an' see us.
 
 LOVE'S GOLDEN KEY. 387 
 
 Don't be scairt ; the old woman is cross, but she never 
 bites, an' it's easy 'nuff to git out of the reach of the 
 crutches. Ye wanted to come an' see how yer granny 
 lived did ye ? I like yer grit." 
 
 Fossie looked pained and puzzled. 
 
 " They talked badly to my Jesus," she thought, " and 
 I am his disciple ; so I must bear it. I wonder what a 
 granny is. I will wait and see." 
 
 " Harm, here's Morgan's youngest young one, an' 
 she's the right sort, too. Why, she run away from 
 Hester an' the rest on urn to come an' live with us. 
 She'll be handy to pick up yer stitches." 
 
 The little wiry, witchy woman had grown more wizened 
 and withered-looking than evter. The wrinkled face, with 
 the sharp gray eyes sunken beneath a rim of black, 
 looked hideous ; the long chin hung loosely ; the blue 
 lips missed the sharp grinders, and the long nose seemed 
 peering in at the open door of the mouth. Fossie looked, 
 and shrank away not so much at the ugly features, 
 the long, wrinkled hands, with the light cords and the 
 dark ones stretched lengthwise through them, the dark 
 nails at the tips ; but the look of cold scrutiny, the entire 
 absence of any kind of Igveliness in expression, voice, or 
 feature, shocked her. She remembered what Hester 
 and Martha had told her. 
 
 The old lady finished her scrutiny. 
 
 " Whose young one did ye say it was ? " 
 
 " Morgan's," screamed Abigail. " You never saw 
 her after she was a week old or so." 
 
 " What did ye say she was here for ? an' where did 
 she come from ? " 
 
 Again Abigail screamed the information, saying,
 
 388 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 " Yer granny's as deaf as an adder. Ye'll have to 
 pipe up. Ha, ha, ha ! " was the conclusion of Abigail's 
 second version of the story. 
 
 " She'll cure him ! I guess so. The evil one couldn't 
 do it." 
 
 "I can't," said Fossie ; "but God is more powerful 
 than the evil one, and he can cure him. Satan don't 
 want to." 
 
 "Bravo, little Fussy ! you'll do," said Abigail. 
 
 "Wat is she a-sayin', Nabby ? " with a curious look. 
 
 " 0, she says the Lord can beat the devil any day 
 that's all." 
 
 " Ha, ha ! " said Mehitable ; " she's none of yer Lov- 
 erin's ; she'll do, Nabby ; let her stay. She's wuth 
 'bout as much as a taller candle for help ; but we've got 
 'nuff to eat. Good for Hester ; I'm glad on't. They 
 want 'er. Well, I guess we can buy 'er as pooty things 
 as them Loverin's. 0, hum, hum ! Well, take off yer 
 things, an' Nabby '11 give ye a doughnut. Got any 
 twisted ones, Nabby ? " 
 
 " What do ye say, Fussy ? " said Abigail, in her 
 pleasantest tones. " Will ye stay an' eat red apples, 
 an' butternuts, an' 'elp Nabby make the links ? Ye can 
 punch um with the new puncher. Ever seen one ? Got 
 a new one. An' we make cider sarse. Did ye ever eat 
 any ? " 
 
 "Yes," said the child. "What are links? Those 
 long things that we fry and eat ? " 
 
 " Yes ; an' ye shall have plenty of puukin pie, too ; 
 so run an' tell the man that yer goin' to stay." 
 
 " 0, yes, I mean to stay if you will let me. And I 
 can punch the links, I guess. I stick a fork in them 
 sometimes to let the wat'-r out. Will that do ?"
 
 LOVE'S GOLDEN KEY. 389 
 
 " 0, you'll do, I guess." 
 
 Fossie climbed up into the carriage, saying, 
 
 " 0, Mr. Trueman, I didn't know ; but I shall stay 
 I must. My Jesus bore the cross for me, and I can stay 
 here for him." 
 
 Mr. Trueman saw the turn things were taking. He 
 knew the state of Mrs. Lentell's heart towards Hester and 
 the Loverings. He saw that the child would not only 
 be tolerated, but petted in their way, if they could tor- 
 ment Hester and the Loverings by so doing. A low, 
 base motive, to be sure, but it would make the child- 
 missionary more comfortable, her life tolerable. 
 
 " Fossie dear," he whispered, " don't speak of Hester 
 or the Loverings ; your grandmother and aunt dislike 
 them, and they won't like you if you do. Think of them 
 often, dear child, and love them. They have been good 
 and kind to you, and love you as they do themselves. 
 If they say unkind things about them, just you keep 
 those little lips closed. Don't get angry, but ask God 
 to help you bear it. It won't hurt auntie, or any of 
 them, and it will help you to save your father." 
 
 " May I speak to father about them, if he will let me, 
 when we are alone." 
 
 " Yes, dear ; tell him how good they are. I shall 
 call to see you in a week, and then perhaps you will go 
 home with me." 
 
 "0, if I could 1 but the prodigal won't come to ep 
 Boon ; aunt Hester thinks so. I shall have to wait." 
 
 " Perhaps," was the reply, "you can sow some good 
 peed, and leave it for the Lord to water ; we will see. 
 Good by ! 1 shall come and see how you like your littlo 
 girl in a week," said he, as Abigail came out to seo 
 where " Fussy " was, as she persisted in calling her.
 
 390 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WOKK. 
 
 " 0, we'll do nicely. Tell them Loverings we can 
 dress her and send her to meetin' as well as they. She's 
 a bright one, and knows which side her bread is buttered 
 on. "Win is a stuck-up school-marm, they say, an' Wall 's 
 gone a-sogerin', an' Lide's gone to the mill. Site tillers 
 knew a thing or two. I hate yer stuck-up folks." 
 
 " She is at home learning dress-making now," was the 
 reply. 
 
 " Sho 1 she ain't, though is she ? Well, they're all 
 'bout alike. We'll try to get some of the stuck-up-ness 
 out of this one. - She's the first of um that's been near 
 us since Hester stole um." 
 
 " Well, good afternoon," said Mr. Trueman. " I must 
 go. Good by, Fossie." 
 
 " I am going to ride just down to the corner, aunt 
 Abigail," she said. " I will run right back in a moment, 
 and punch the links, or do anything you want me to." 
 
 " That's a good one," said Abigail, who supposed it 
 was said in jest, and not that the child was in utter ig- 
 norance of what punching the links could mean. 
 
 " Mr. Trueman," she whispered, holding her hand be- 
 fore her mouth, "you don't think that my grandmother 
 is a witch do you ? " 
 
 Mr. Trueman smiled. 
 
 " Why, Mr. Trueman, there are some witches. There 
 was one in the Bible that raised up Samuel, you know; 
 and I have seen a picture of one on a broomstick," she 
 said, confidentially. " Did you ever see it ? " 
 
 Mr. Trueman tried to look grave as he replied, 
 
 " There were some, I know, in King Saul's day ; but 
 I think he caused them all to be destroyed, except that 
 one ; and she died soon after that, and there have been
 
 LOVE'S GOLDEN KEY. 391 
 
 none since." lie spoke very decidedly, and with a 
 great deal of assurance. 
 
 " Well, I am so glad," said Fossie. " My grandmother 
 does look like the picture I saw. Perhaps that was one 
 of the old ones that Saul killed." 
 
 " I presume so," said Mr. Trueman ; " but you may 
 be sure she is not a witch, or she would not be suffered 
 to live. She has worked very hard, and is old, and 
 hasn't practised the Christian graces. That is what 
 makes her look so forbidding, for in a measure we come 
 to look like our lives. If we are habitually cross and 
 selfish, we look ugly ; if kind and loving, we look pleas- 
 ant and peaceful even in old age. Good by." 
 
 Fostina returned to attend to her opportunity, as she 
 called it, and overcome difficulties an older and wiser 
 head than hers would shrink from enco'untering. She 
 said God was going with her, and he did go. Everything 
 she said and did was " brave," and " smart," and 
 "bright." Verily the Lord turneth the hearts of men at 
 his will. Suffer she must from their coarseness ; it was 
 new and irreverent to the pure-minded child. IIow often 
 she remembered what aunt Martha said " They don't 
 love each other there " ! How she missed the love ! She 
 was puzzled to understand their language ; it was a new 
 di;ilect. But she was a zealous little missionary, and God 
 taught her, and shielded her from their bitter hate. 
 
 Mr. Trueman went homo thinking more meanly of in- 
 temperance, wherever it might be found. In the palace, 
 or in the hut, in the parlor or the bar-room, in high 
 places or low places, at home or abroad, all the same 
 the meanest, the weakest, and the most damning vice 
 men or devils ever indulged in. lie groaned as ho
 
 392 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 thought how little the Maine Law had accomplished. 
 "And yet," he thought, "I must admit it, that it has 
 accomplished much here, where it has been in force." 
 
 He sighed that in places of trust and honor the evil 
 was increasing. Those set to guard the interest and 
 virtue of the nation were turning traitors to the nation's 
 good, and drowning their God-given faculties in the in- 
 toxicating cup. " Shame, shame on such meanness ! Set 
 up to govern the people, by the people, and cannot gov- 
 ern a little clamoring appetite ! To govern the people, 
 and such a people, and cannot govern self! Shame, I 
 say, shame ! " lie spoke aloud ; his horse stopped, put 
 back his ears, and listened. " I don't mean you, old 
 Charlie ; you are more of a man than they who sip wine 
 at the card-table, or in the gilded saloon, though they 
 pass in the ' best society/ " he eaid, sarcastically, " and 
 drink from a golden goblet, or a silver cup. Go on, old 
 Charlie ; you will never die a drunkard, nor make another 
 so ; and in God's sight, I think you are more noble and 
 worthy than they who do such things. I can't see the 
 point of difference ; getting drunk is getting drunk, 
 whether the deed is accomplished by the best of imported 
 wines and brandies, or on rum and cider. that men 
 would see this, and act up to their high prerogatives ! 
 If I were the voice of the people, none but men who were 
 temperate in all things should govern this people men 
 who could rule their appetites and passions, and rule the 
 people in justice and equity. Then, and not till then, 
 shall we be truly prosperous and happy." 
 
 " Where is my father, aunt Abigail ? " said Fossie. 
 " I want to see him, and begin my mission."
 
 LOVE'S GOLDEN KEY. 393 
 
 "That is a good joke, Fussy. How come they to 
 give you such a homely name ? " 
 
 " 0, my name is Mary Fostina ; but they call me 
 Fossie." 
 
 " Sho ! Is that it ? Well, Fussy will do, for you are 
 a strange little thing ; not a mite like the young ones 
 in the other room." 
 
 " Aunt Hester said I was a good girl," said Fossie, as 
 she raised those large, dark, mournful eyes to her aunt's 
 face. 
 
 "0, you'll do," said Abigail, laughing, "you'll do. 
 I'll buy ye a china rnug, with a flower on it, to drink 
 milk out of, if ye won't git homesick." 
 
 She was touched by the child's expression, which was 
 a strange commingling of smiles and tears, of sadness 
 struggling with mirth. Her very artless truthfulness 
 was mistaken for wit, and they called it droll. 
 
 " I should like a china mug very much," said Fossie. 
 " Did you say there were children in there ? " 
 
 " Yes, a grist of um ; but they won't beat you, Fussy." 
 
 " Well, I am glad ; I shouldn't like to be beaten. 
 Who are they ? " 
 
 This was sajd in the child's own peculiar ingenuous, 
 demure way, which was her greatest charm. Abigail 
 was delighted with it ; she laughed again, and her voice 
 was a shade softer, as she said, 
 
 " 0, they are uncle Simeon's children. He's gone 
 a-sogorin'. They've got a proper pooty little one in 
 there. You shall play with that one." 
 
 " I should like to, but I shan't have much time to 
 play. I must help you all the time I can get." 
 
 " What are you larfin' at, Nabby ? " growled Mehita-
 
 394 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 blo. " You act like a fool. You'll scare that young 
 one's senses out." 
 
 " Sho ! I guess not," laughed Nabby. " But I be- 
 lieve she'll kill me a-larfiu'. Marm, she thinks she's 
 goin' to be chief cook an' bottle-washer, an' shan't have 
 time to play. That ain't much like Sim's young ones 
 is it?" 
 
 " Ha, ha ! no ; that's true for ye, Nabby. Well, she's 
 a real Sharp, that one is ; she looks like our kind of 
 folks. There ain't a bit of Loverin' in her, or Lentell 
 either. Nabby, you are a sight like my folks. Your 
 father was a nice clever man ; but he hadn't gumption 
 enough that's all. I never 'd orter married him. 0, 
 hum ! " And the old lady swayed her body back and 
 forth in bed, where she sat most of the time, with the 
 Bible wrong side up, mumbling over the bits of texts she 
 had heard now and then, or spelling out with great diffi- 
 culty a few verses. 
 
 " Where is my father ? I want to see him." 
 " Well, you won't want to more 'n once, I reckon. 
 He's in there, drunk. He works in the forenoon, and 
 gits drunk by dinner time. Ye'd better not meddlb with 
 him to-day, but wait till mornin' when he's sober. Wait, 
 and see if he'll know ye." 
 
 It seemed a great while to wait ; but the obedient 
 child cheerfully submitted. 
 
 When Mr. Trueman informed Hester and Martha how 
 he had left their darling, they were truly gratcfia. 
 
 " It is the Lord's doings," said Hester. " Dear child ! 
 I hope and pray that the time" may be short, for her sake 
 as well as ours. How we love her ! " 
 
 " What a comfort she was to us all ! " said Martha.
 
 LOVE'S GOLDEN KEY. 395 
 
 " She is a strange child, so thoughtful and wise beyond 
 her years, and yet a very child in artless simplicity. 
 How I miss her I I shan't sleep a wink to-night, I do 
 believe. Don't you suppose she will lie awake and cry 
 all night ? " 
 
 " 0, no, I think not," said Hester ; " she is a young 
 philosopher, that child is. She will cry as if her heart 
 would break, say her prayers, and go to sleep." 
 
 Hester's well-poised voice trembled as she commended 
 their darling to God that night. 
 
 " Martha, I am growing old," she said, sadly ; "I 
 feel it. But that dear child's faith has prevailed. It was 
 her Christian love that cast out fear ; don't you see it ? 
 She said they would love her. God would make them ; 
 and he has. How wonderfully he fulfils all his promises 
 to those who trust in him. ' According to your faith 
 be it unto you. 1 ' 

 
 396 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX IX. 
 
 UNCLE LEVI. SAD SCENE AT THE SUPPER TABLE. THE 
 NOBLE WRECK. 
 
 " MARM, supper's ready," screamed Abigail. " Come, 
 pick up yer crutches and begin to hobble." 
 
 Fossie's eyes filled with tears as the poor old lady 
 wended her way slowly and painfully to the table, with 
 Abigail's help. 
 
 "0, how lame !" she thought; " poor grandmother ! 
 I will pick up her stitches, and read to her." She looked 
 at the distorted features, the dark veins, and the large 
 cords on the hands, and fairly shuddered. " What if she 
 should be a witch ? How did Mr. Trucman know they 
 were all dead ? But then, if she was a witch, she would 
 ride to the table on a broomstick, when she was so lame." 
 She took a deep breath, and began to watch for her father. 
 She longed, and yet she feared to see him. A tall, lean 
 man entered the room, and without word or sign to any 
 one, commenced eating voraciously. Was that father ? 
 No, he was younger than aunt Abigail. No, that wasn't 
 the ragged man she used to see. 
 
 " Lcvi," said Abigail, " this is Morgan's child. She 
 that was born when he's in jail. Why don't ye look 
 at her ? " 
 
 He raised his sharp gray eyes suddenly, and looked 
 at the child. Their eyes met. Levi started.
 
 SAD SCENE AT THE SUPPER TABLE. 39T 
 
 " Why," said he, " is that the baby ? She looks like 
 Harmony, some." 
 
 " What is he sayin', Nabby ?" said grandmother, im- 
 patiently. 
 
 " Why, he says she," pointing with her knife, " looks 
 like Harmony." 
 
 " Levi, you talk like a fool," was the reply. " She's 
 a Sharp, has got the Sharp eyes, an' forrad, an' nose. I 
 tell ye she's a Sharp, and she shall have my red cloak 
 made into a little red ridin'-hood, like Sim's gal, and go 
 to meetin' with urn. Nabby, can't ye fix it to-night ? I 
 wan't her to look smarter 'n any on urn." 
 
 " 0, I'll do it before she wants it," said Abigail, who 
 agreed with mother in her ambition about the child's 
 looks. " We'll make urn stare won't we, marm ? I'll 
 git her the best hat I can find." 
 
 " Ha, ha ! " and the old lady opened her mouth very 
 wide. She looked more like a witch than ever, when she 
 brought her crutches down angrily, and said, 
 
 " Levi, don't you let me hear you say she looks like 
 Harmony, or I'll beat ye over the head." 
 
 " I should like to see you doing it," was the curt reply. 
 " I just want you to remember that I was twenty-one 
 long ago. I don't stand crutches now, or tongues, and 
 I shouldn't mind going into the army. Five or six hun- 
 dred dollars don't grow in the country. I could sell the 
 stock, you know." 
 
 " 0, they don't love each other one bit," mused the 
 little missionary. " I wish I could teach them to love." 
 
 " There, there," said Abigail, " don't mind what the 
 oil woman Bays; she's a child. If you go, I'll go. Ton 
 
 such co\vs as \\-<-\<- ;..!, and four such oxen, and two
 
 398 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 such horses, can't be found every day. What a shame 
 to sell urn ! Sim's gone and left his grist of young ones 
 for us to look arter. What's the use to talk ? Jule is 
 slack." 
 
 " Julia is good enough," said Levi, " and so was Har- 
 mony ; and that child looks like her. I am glad she's 
 come, a little ray of light you see, for home has been 
 a Tophet ; that's all. Abigail, you know it. It is work 
 and scold, and eat and sleep : that's been the programme. 
 I hate it. I had as lief go to war, and shoot somebody, 
 as to be shot at all the time, arid can't shoot back. I 
 wish she would strike me once ; I'd go." lie raised his 
 voice to a high pitch. " Marm, I tell you this child 
 looks like Harmony, and she is pretty. Now cane me 
 if you dare ! " 
 
 Fossie covered her face and cringed, expecting to hear 
 the blow, the crashing of dishes, &c. The poor strained 
 hand clinched the crutch, and the gray eyes, sunken 
 behind the dark rims, glared at Levi, nothing more, 
 as the blue lips muttered, 
 
 " 0, hum ! I'd orter expect it ; this is what comes of 
 marryin' third cousins. 0, hum ! " 
 
 " Don't be scairt, Fussy." ("What a name ! " said 
 Levi.) "There won't be any bones broken; and uncle 
 Levi likes ye, and he'll take ye to see the ' grand craven 
 animals/ as marm read it the other day." 
 
 " What is it, aunt Abigail ? " 
 
 " 0, the caravan. There is monkeys in it. Ever see 
 one ? " 
 
 " No, but I have read about them. I brought my 
 books, and I'll read you about it when I have time." 
 
 They were interrupted by a heavy, shuffling step. The
 
 SAD SCENE AT THE SUPPER TABLE. 399 
 
 poor inebriate's troubled sleep was disturbed by the loud 
 talk. He caught the name of Harmony now and then. 
 How it startled him I He had not used it, nor allowed 
 others to, for years.. He raised his head, brushed back 
 the tangled locks of rich dark hair, and listened. 
 
 " She is pretty, and she looks like Harmony," he heard 
 Levi say, defiantly. " Now cane me if you dare." 
 
 He started up, and crawled off the bed nervously. 
 
 " Who've they got there ? " he muttered, with an oath. 
 " Who looks like her like her?" he groaned. "0, 
 God, she wouldn't know me. Why, I meant to forget 
 her. Curse them ! they've brought it all back all 
 back." 
 
 He stopped in the doorway which opened opposite 
 Fostina. He leaned weakly against the door, with pale, 
 parted lips, red, wild eyes, tattered garments, and matted 
 locks. How haggard he looked ! What a wreck I How 
 like a noble castle in ruins, with hingelcss gates, tum- 
 bling walls, and broken battlements ! 
 
 0, what a noble wreck ! The tall, manly form was 
 there ; the pale, white forehead was there ; but it seemed 
 as if the honest, loving, manly soul had been banished 
 from the noble mansion of God's own making, and a de- 
 mon, half defiant and half afraid, stood fearfully looking 
 out of the windows of the soul, abashed at those strange, 
 beautiful, mournful eyes, which rested with an unutter- 
 able yearning look upon him. He reached out his arms 
 with a quick, frantic gesture, then drew them back 
 fiercely, arid, smiting them on his broad chest, exclaimed 
 vehemently, 
 
 " God ! God ! it is the same look. Her eyes, 
 how they followed mo to the road out of sight yes,
 
 400 11ESTEK STKOXG S LIFE WORK. 
 
 she stood in the door and looked." Again he emote the 
 broad chest, madly. "0 God, what a look that was! 
 How it haunted mo ! IIow it stood between me and the 
 jug, till she died ! And then it followed me followed 
 me day and night, till I cursed it, and I never saw it 
 more." 
 
 This was said with a shudder, and in a hoarse whisper. 
 
 " Never any more ; and I drank and drank till I drowned 
 my misery, and got revenge ; and it was sweet." He 
 raised his voice. " You told me to drink, old woman. 
 Have you got enough of it ? " 
 
 " Yes, yes ; God knows I have," was the low, muttered 
 reply. 
 
 " That is what comes of your ugly, domineering, self- 
 ish disposition," muttered Levi, as he left the room. 
 
 Poor, frightened, trembling little missionary. Did her 
 heart fail and her faith waver for a moment, as she 
 bent lower and lower in her seat, saying, 
 
 " Dear Jesus, what shall 1 do ? what shall I do ? " 
 
 "Do ye think ye can cure him, Fossic ? do ye?" 
 whispered Abigail. 
 
 She, too, was pale and trembling. There was some- 
 thing awful in the language, tone, and manner of the 
 fallen man. It was like a wail of despair, or a prayei 
 half uttered, or a muttered curse. She could not read 
 it. She had not seen the tears nor heard the prayers 
 which had been put up for that man ; knew not that the 
 Spirit of God was striving in the dark, dark soul. 
 
 " I can't cure him. 0, no ! I can't, but God can. The 
 prodigal son was poorer and worse than he. lie ate 
 with the swine ; but my poor, poor father has good nice 
 food, and a little girl to love him."
 
 SAD SCENE AT THE SUPPER TABLE. 401 
 
 Morgan Lentell took a step nearer. 
 
 " Who be you ? " he gasped. " Who be you ? Her 
 ghost ? " 
 
 " I am Mary Fostina, your little girl. I love you, and 
 Jesus loves you. I have come to tell you something 
 beautiful when you are sober." 
 
 " Sober ? " he muttered. " Who told you I drank ? " he 
 said with an oath, which shocked Fostina. " Who is 
 Jesus ? " he mused ; " I used to hear about him. She 
 used to tell the children about him. But, child, he's 
 done loving me ; don't speak of him." 
 
 " There, Morgan, eat yer supper," said Abigail, with 
 a degree of pity in her heart she had not folt for a long 
 time. " Eat ; here is some cold victuals : you like it." 
 
 " Yes, father, sit by me and eat ; for I am your little 
 girl your baby that you never saw. I have come to 
 live with you a long time. Aunt Abigail and grand- 
 mother say that I may. Ain't they good ? I want you 
 to love them." 
 
 He looked at her in great perplexity. 
 
 " Those are her eyes," he said, with an oath. " Abi- 
 gail, who is it ? " 
 
 " Why, it is your own child she that was a baby 
 when Harmony died." 
 
 Abigail used to listen in a kind of bewilderment, as 
 little Fossic talked of her hopes and plans. " What a 
 droll little thing you be, Fussy ! " was her only answer. 
 Fossic soon learned that aunt Abigail did not mean disap- 
 probation by that term, and so it ceased to pain her. 
 The dear child had trials. She could not speak of those 
 who occupied her thoughts so often. How she desired 
 to see them, to hear their loving words, to tell them all 
 26
 
 402 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 her thoughts, to lay her head on their bosoms, and look 
 into their dear, sweet faces. In vain Abigail made 
 twisted doughnuts and turnovers, with the curious crinkle 
 round the edge, with the light crisp crust, or bought her 
 sugar hearts. She missed the love which had seasoned 
 everything in her other home. So she waited, and labored, 
 and thought of the fatted calf, the ring, the new hat, and, 
 above all, a father to know and love. She smiled, and 
 played with the children, and waited hopefully on till the 
 end. There were days at Mehitable Sharp LenteH's 
 which were real holidays to the child-missionary ; da3 T 8 
 when the married daughters of the family, with little 
 boys and girls, came home children who had been 
 taught to love one another, and respect each other's rights. 
 Little Mary, as their mothers taught them to call their 
 cousin, was a favorite among them. She was too modest 
 and unassuming to excite envy in hearts fortified as theirs 
 were by love. And then her good will was a sure pass- 
 port to aunt Abigail's and grandmother's hearts. It 
 amused them very much to hear grandmother call her a 
 " Sharp young one " her, the demure, quiet, thought- 
 ful maiden, so affectionate and kind. " She means that 
 she is like her family ; her name was Sharp," their moth- 
 ers explained to them. Uncle Simeon's wife was quite 
 literary ; she found books and papers in her part of the 
 house. But the child-missionary denied herself the privi- 
 lege of reading, and almost of eating or sleeping : at 
 least, she felt willing to, when she could in any way pro- 
 mote the work for which she was a cheerful exile from 
 the home and friends she loved. There were dark days, 
 cloudy days, stormy days for her days, when her father 
 would not permit her to approach him ; and then she
 
 UNCLE LEVI. 403 
 
 hovered around him, watching for her " opportunity," as 
 she called it. Uncle Levi plucked the nicest fruit for 
 Fossie, listened, with his eyes closed and his head lean- 
 ing on the back of his chair, to her artless conversation 
 about God and heaven, about Christ and salvation, about 
 things she had seen and heard at school sad things 
 and amusing ones, for the little, wise, old-fashioned child 
 had a fund of anecdotes. She always heard everything, 
 and never forgot. Sometimes, when she went to the vil- 
 lage with him, or about his work, he inquired concerning 
 Hester and the Loverings, arid was much interested in 
 her account of their way of living and doing. 
 
 " What ! have prayers night and morning ? I thought 
 such things were for ministers, or men, at least." 
 
 " Why, I guess not," was the reply. " Grandpa is 
 dead, you know, and the altar must be kept up. Why 
 don't you have an altar, uncle Levi ? It would make us 
 all better and happier." She waited ; he seemed uneasy. 
 " 0, I suppose you had rather pray to God alone in your 
 room ; that is just as well, I guess. That is the way 
 I do." 
 
 " You pray ? " said Levi, looking up under his heavy, 
 shaggy eyebrows ; " you pray, little May-day ? " He 
 called her that often when they were alone. 
 
 " Tell me what you mean, uncle Levi, by calling me 
 May-day. Is it a good day ? " 
 
 " 0, I mean that you are pleasant and lovely." Levi 
 felt half ashamed that he had spoken words which his 
 mother iJ'.vays called " weak as dish-water," until the 
 human nature in his soul was paralyzed and put fast 
 asleep. 
 
 The chill had aroused his slumbering faculties, and he
 
 404 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 was hungering for something to feed upon something 
 he had not found in his home. Yes, he was hungering 
 for sympathy for something human to love, something 
 to live for besides his cows, and oxen, and horses. They 
 were the only living things he had ever loved : they were 
 like old friends, but now they did not satisfy him. His 
 brother's children he might love, but he feared his moth- 
 er's derisive laugh Abigail's sarcasm. 
 
 " Abigail is different," he mused, as they rode along. 
 " Little May-day, what shall I buy you at the store ? " 
 
 " Let me think," said the child ; " some maple sugar, 
 please. No, no, uncle, don't buy me anything. I love 
 you well enough now. Buy aunt Abigail and poor, lame 
 old grandmother something. Aunt Hester says little 
 deeds of kindness, little words of love, coax out the 
 better feelings, and kindle the flame of affection. I guess 
 grandmother's never were kindled." 
 
 " No," said Levi, bitterly, " she never had any affec- 
 tions. She fed and clothed us, as I take care of my 
 cows and horses, only not so kindly. May-day, you 
 would have been a north-easter, if you had been brought 
 up here." 
 
 " Should I ? " was the innocent reply. " Don't you 
 love your mother, uncle Levi ? " 
 
 He looked at the child silently, almost sternly, a mo- 
 ment, and then said, " Do you love her, or your father ? " 
 
 " Yes, I love her, but not as I love them at home. I 
 want to make her better, but I don't want to go and put 
 my arms about her neck, and love her hard. 0, I can't 
 love them enough ! I wish you would go and see them 
 Borne day." 
 
 " Well, I will," was the prompt reply. " I will ; and 
 you shall go and see them, little one. It is too bad ! "
 
 UNCLE LEVI. 405 
 
 " Will 3^ou, uncle Levi ? IIow happy I am ! For 
 when I stand and look out of the window towards there, 
 I wish I had wings like a bird, so that I could go ever so 
 often, and right back to my mission." 
 
 " Let's see ; what is your mission ? to eat turnovers 
 and sweetmeats ? " he said, smiling into her face. 
 
 "You are very pretty when you smile, uncle Levi. 
 Aunt Hester will like you," said the child. " But don't 
 you remember what my mission is ? Why, it is to re- 
 form my poor father. I feel so, without any, you know. 
 The children tease me about it. That is what I stay here 
 for ; and I like you and aunt Abigail too. I am going 
 to help her punch the liriksj when you kill the hogs ; she 
 says I may. Kill them as easy as you can won't you, 
 uncle Levi ? " 
 
 He laughed, placed his broad, brown hand on her head, 
 and said, in a voice so low and tender, 
 
 " Little one, you are not like us. I don't understand 
 it. What makes the difference ? " 
 
 " I don't know, I am sure. Grandmother says I am 
 like her Sharp folks." He frowned. 
 
 " She well, it isn't true. You are like your moth- 
 er, child. She was a Christian the only one that I ever 
 knew. I didn't always treat her well. The old cock 
 crows, and the young ones learn. But I remember her. 
 She was very lovely and good." There were tears in 
 those sharp, deep-set eyes, and a little tremor in his 
 voice, as he said, " Mary, we were not brought up 
 right : that is what ails us. It isn't a good place for 
 a child like you to live. I like you, but I want you to 
 go home. Abigail likes you. I never thought she could 
 like anything before. But your father is a real sot;
 
 406 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 there isn't any help for him ; so I want to carry you 
 home before the sweetness is turned sour." She folded 
 her little hands, and raised those large, beautiful eyes to 
 his, mournfully, as she said, 
 
 " I promised aunt Hester and Martha that I would 
 certainly bring him, and I must. Please let me stay ; 
 only let me go with you to see them." 
 
 " Well, have it your own way ; you are a strange little 
 thing." Those were happy days for the child, when she 
 went to see the loved ones. 
 
 " Marm musn't know a thing about it," Abigail told 
 Levi and Fossie. " It is lucky she's deaf." Abigail 
 indulged her youngest brother more than ever since the 
 war. The querulous old lady muttered and mumbled her 
 disapprobation, and read, " C-h-i-1-d-r-e-n, o-b-c-y y-o-u-r 
 p-a-r-e-n-t-s i-n t-h-e L-o-r-d ! 0, hum ! I nevcr'd ortcr 
 married yer father, Nabby. He was a nice, clever man, 
 but he hadn't gumption, and he was my third cousin. 
 Children never prosper when there's blood relation. 
 There's a cuss on 'em." 
 
 "Fiddlesticks!" said Abigail, aside; "it's your 
 tongue that has cussed us, and allers will, fur's I see. 
 I wish yer loom and yer wheel had been sunk, and 3 - cr 
 tongue tied. So there ! I'm tired on't." Fossie looked 
 up, with a frightened, grieved look. 
 
 " Aunt Abigail, did my grandmother use to scold so 
 when " she was about to say " when my mother lived 
 here ? " She stopped, confused. 
 
 " When what ? " said Abigail. 
 
 " When she was young and well." 
 
 "Yes, and worse. She was always at it work and 
 fret, work and scold. Father never had a minute's peace 
 in his life."
 
 A NOBLE WRECK. 407 
 
 " Didn't he, aunt Abigail ? Well, I am sorry, for she 
 can't ask him to forgive her, now he is in heaven ; and 
 she can't get in there, for I guess she don't love God.'" 
 
 " Sho ! " said Abigail; "yes, she will. Christ died 
 for sinners. We shall all get in there somehow. I 
 wish I was there now ; for if Levi goes to the war, I 
 can't live that's all." Fossie was thinking what to 
 say to Abigail : she saw her mistake. 
 
 " Will my father go to heaven as he is ? Will he, 
 aunt Abigail ? " 
 
 " How do I know, child ? " 
 
 " Well, would he be happy there without rum.? " 
 
 "No, no, child. Run and get yer turnover: it's 
 mince, with raisins in it." 
 
 " Yes, aunt, I will in a minute. It is nice. You are 
 so kind to me, and I love you ever so much ! But you 
 can't go to heaven unless you are a Christian no one 
 can. We mnst repent and believe, the Bible says so, 
 or we can't go to heaven. Won't you read it, aunt 
 Abigail ? won't you ? I want you to go to heaven." 
 
 " I'll think on't. There, run and see what yer granny 
 wants. What a fool I am to humor that young one so ! " 
 mused Abigail. "I can't fret at her -I can't; and it 
 may be true it may. Harm's doctrine don't make any 
 on us perfect. Pshaw ! I won't be led round by a young 
 one and that Harmon3 7 's, too I won't ! " she said, 
 spitefully. 
 
 But she was led, nevertheless. Yes, " a little child 
 shall lead them." Mary Fostina's " opportunity " came 
 at last. God sent a sickness upon the father ; it was 
 severe while it lasted, and left him very weak. The 
 lit lie girl hovered near him, watched over him, combed
 
 408 1LESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 out the dark, rich locks, and petted them as Harmony 
 used to. They were yet beautiful. She washed the 
 soiled face and hands when he was stronger, and caressed 
 his hollow cheek, which yet bore traces of manly beauty. 
 She kissed the pale, high forehead, and said, softly, 
 
 " Mother loves you, father. She is waiting for you in 
 heaven. Jesus loves you. You thought he didn't ; but 
 Re does. 0, he loved you, and died to save you. Aunt 
 Hester loves you, and Winnie, and Wallace, and Sun- 
 shine love you. That is what we call Elida. And papa, 
 I mean to call you papa, now that you haven't drank any 
 rum this week. Yes, your little Mary loves you, papa. 
 I feel so badly when they call you sot and drunkard ! 
 0, I feel so badly, when you were such a beautiful man I 
 Auut Hester says so. They all say so. 0, papa! papal 
 you promised mamma my darling mamma ! when she 
 was dying, that you wouldn't drink rum any more ; and 
 she will be disappointed if you don't leave off. Papa, 
 won't you promise your little girl that you will never, 
 never drink it any more ? " 
 
 She fell upon her knees, and, with clasped hands, 
 prayed, without waiting for a reply, 
 
 " God, help him to promise ! Jesus, save him ! 
 save him ! and let me have my father to love." Abigail, 
 hearing the child's pleading voice, stepped to the door 
 and peeped in. The sight affected her. It was as if the 
 child had been inspired by the Holy Spirit. It was a 
 solemn, sacred sight. "Will you promise, papa?" she 
 said, looking with a half doubtful, half hopeful look ; 
 " will you ? Here is the very letter you sent her ; and 
 aunt Hester says she believed you. Say, papa, will you 
 promise ? Don't speak till you can." Then she told
 
 A NOBLE WUECK. 409 
 
 him, more calmly, her little plan, how she was to lead 
 him to her home, when he was all well and cured of 
 drinking. " And we shall all be so happy ! " she said. 
 Morgan Lentell was weeping ; it was long since he had 
 wept : but he was very calm. 
 
 " Mary, I dare not promise. I have a demon in here, 
 which clamors day and night for ' rum! ruin ! ' 'Tis hell 
 on earth. I can't escape it." Abigail withdrew to weep 
 alone ; she was ashamed of tears. 
 
 " 0, but, papa, you have promised in this letter. Hear 
 me read it hear me." She read, pointing with her 
 finger. lie listened and groaned. 
 
 " 0, I dare not promise. God knows I would like to 
 reform, but I can't, I can't ; it is too late." 
 
 " Dear papa, if God knows you want to reform, you 
 can ; for if you want to, he will help you. Winnie has 
 wept for you ; I heard her say she had wet her pillow 
 weeping for you, and prayed for you ; we all have. 
 Won't you promise to try? 0, you must." He gazed 
 long, and almost tenderly, into the pale, tearful face. 
 
 " Harmony's face," he thought. " It must be. The 
 eyes are hers ; yes, it is the same look, tender, yearning, 
 and mournful. I promise!" he whispered, hoarsely; 
 "I promise, Ilarmy I promise; God help me." In a 
 moment the child fell upon her knees, and poured out 
 her heart in praise to God. The sobs of the sick man 
 startled her. She said, " Amen," abruptly, and arose to 
 quiet him. 
 
 " It is done," she said ; " it is done. Now go to sleep, 
 papa : dear papa. My mother loved you. God loves 
 you. Jesus loves you. You will repent, and believe, 
 and be saved. There, go to sleep ; it is done ; 1 haven't 
 lost my opportunity, as Winnie did ; I went to find it."
 
 410 
 
 HESTER STRONG'S LIKE WORK. 
 
 Dear child ! She was a little heroine at home, doing 
 God's work bravely and well. How those two hearts 
 grew together, as she hung with a mother's tender fond- 
 ness around the returning prodigal ! Reader, you would 
 have wondered had you seen them walking to the small 
 house near the swamp, day by day, and entering the 
 dark, damp, dismal room, hand in hand, and coming forth 
 with calm, peaceful faces, only that you know this was 
 the child's chosen place for an altar. Yes, there they 
 went to pray. Little Mary's altar it was. She prayed, 
 and it was there she produced the pledge Hester had 
 written for her to sign, and said, 
 
 " Papa, it was in this corner I was born. Here moth- 
 er died ; the bed stood here, you say. Sign it right 
 here, dear papa ; perhaps God will let her see you sign 
 it." He took the pencil, and wrote, with a trembling 
 hand, 
 
 " I will leave it off, God helping me."
 
 ELIDA'S VISIT. 4H 
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 
 ELIDA'S VISIT. THE SOLDIER'S FUNERAL, OR THE LAUREL 
 WREATH. 
 
 LEVI brought a letter one day, directed to Mary F. 
 Lentell. It read thus : 
 
 " MY DARLING SISTER : What you have told me about 
 aunt Abigail, and the rest of them, makes me want to 
 come and see them. Uncle Levi I know, and like already. 
 Please ask aunt if I may come and stay a week or two. 
 I won't make her a bit of trouble ; and if she has 
 dresses to fix or make, I will do my best; for Mrs. P. 
 trusts me to do the best of work. They will tell me I 
 have what grandmother calls ' gumption.' I think she 
 will take me to be a Sharp. So, little sister, coax them 
 to let me come. Your affectionate sister, 
 
 "ELIDA LENTELL." 
 
 " I can't have none of yer stuck-up folks here," said 
 Abigail. "Dress-maker! Miss Dress-maker ! You don't 
 want her do you, Fussy ? Aunt Abigail can git yer 
 dresses cut in the village, and make um herself." Levi 
 looked eagerly at the child. Would she dare be truth- 
 ful ? lie saw the color go and come ; tears glistened in 
 the mournful eyes, the lip trembled for a moment, and 
 then, with a brave effort, she spoke quite calmly :
 
 412 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 " Aunt Abigail, I love my sister very much, and she 
 isn't stuck up, I guess ; she isn't as big as you are ; and 
 she makes nice dresses. And she is so funny, she 
 makes us all laugh ! So I wish you would let her come 
 please, do. I should like it better than ever so 
 many turnovers and things." She threw her arms 
 around Abigail's neck, and kissed her again and again. 
 " Aunt Abigail, say yes." 
 
 " There, there," said Abigail, as she shrank away, 
 half ashamed of being caressed, it was so new " there, 
 Fussy, don't eat me up." She smiled. " You're a queer 
 little thing. Ask uncle Levi if he'll go after her. May 
 be it '11 make him more contented. Granny '11 fret, un- 
 less I can make her think she's a Sharp, from the crown 
 of her head to the sole of her foot." 
 
 " You are the darlingest aunt Abigail I ever had," said 
 Fostina, patting her on the cheek. " Uncle Levi will go, 
 I know. I see it in his eyes." She went and leaned 
 confidingly against her uncle's shoulder, and looked up 
 into his face. "Won't you, uncle Levi?" 
 
 " I guess not," he said," smiling. " Dress-makers are 
 bad things to have round ; but aunt Abigail can employ 
 one, though," he said, archly. 
 
 " Why, no, uncle Levi ; dress-makers are not bad, I 
 know. My sister isn't. You have seen her isn't she 
 funny ? She made you laugh. But she is real good, 
 though. Won't you go for her, and let me go with you ? 
 I will give you my new book that Winnie gave me, that 
 has the elephant and the monkeys in it." 
 
 " 0, that will be fine ! " said Levi. " I'll go. When 
 shall we start ? " 
 
 " Better go now," said Abigail ; " it's pleasant, and
 
 ELIDA'S VISIT. 413 
 
 the pears '11 be gone afore long." Levi took the letter, 
 and read it. 
 
 " It is a neat thing/' said he. " Abigail, if you and 
 I had more learning, it wouldn't come amiss." 
 
 " Sho ! " said Abigail; "if I'd been to school as 
 much as you have, I'd be satisfied." 
 
 " Xabby, who's that letter from? Simeon? I'm 
 afeared the rebs '11 kill him. 0, hum ! I'd ortcr knowed 
 better 'n to let him gone. Jule '11 have the pinshin, I 
 B'pose. I allcrs had yer father's. He fit at Concord 
 an' Lexiu'ton, an' helped take Burgwine. It allers 
 made him shudder, an' laugh, too, when he told how they 
 went in one solid flanax, right at the pint o' the bag- 
 onet, an' took him with flyin' colors. Ha, ha, ha ! 
 Didn't they bring him down a peg ? I allers like to see 
 yer stuck-up folks brought down. They hikl him pris- 
 oner o' war didn't they, Nabby ? " 
 
 " I don't know nothin' about it," said Abigail. " You 
 burnt up the hist'ry of it, that father bought, 'cause the 
 boys wanted to read it." 
 
 " Get your information out of the ashes," muttered 
 Levi, starting up, and striding out to the barn. 
 
 " Nabby, who did ye say that letter's from ? " 
 
 "I didn't say," said Abigail, impatiently. "It is 
 fruia one of Morgan's young ones. She wants to come 
 and see if 3'ou think she's got the Sharp gumption. 
 She is goin' to do our dress-rnakin'. Levi says she's a 
 smart one," screamed Abigail. 
 
 "Looks like the Sharps, did you say, Nabby? Ha, 
 ha ! How mad the Loveriu's ill be. Good for um. 
 Let her come, Nabby. Likel} 7 's not she can learn to 
 spin an' weave."
 
 414 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 " Not in tliis house," muttered Abigail. " I -wish yer 
 loom was burnt." 
 
 " I'll be ready in just forty minutes," said Elida, glee- 
 fully, when Lcvi and Fossie arrived ; " for I am a Sharp, 
 you see, and can do things quickly." 
 
 " Dress as plainly as possible, darling. Grandmother 
 Lentell has a perfect horror of what she calls ' stuck-up ' 
 folks," said Hester, who could do little but look at and 
 hold her baby. Martha was busy getting supper. Hes- 
 ter was learning to lean upon her a little now ; for she 
 could no longer deny that she felt the growing infirmi- 
 ties of old age. 
 
 " You will think me childish, Mr. Lentell," she said, 
 " and I am. You see I have had a pretty large family 
 for a maiden lady, and I love them all, foolishly, I sup- 
 pose. You can have no idea how I miss this little pet," 
 she said, folding her in a loving embrace ; " she is the 
 youngest. I miss the boys, too. Wallace is first lieu- 
 tenant, and he so young ! They call him very brave. 
 He has never had so much as a scratch. Albert Gray, 
 Elida's intended, has been wounded slightly ; his sister's 
 husband has been sick : we have felt anxious about him. 
 George is in a fair way to get an epaulet, as he promised 
 to. lie is rising, and very popular. Perhaps you don't 
 know my boys, though. 1 was speaking of George 
 Levering, Fossie's cousin. I wish the war was over ; it 
 is destroying thousands of lives, and souls, too, I fear; 
 for it is, and must be, demoralizing." When Fossie and 
 Hester were alone, she said, " When think I shall see my 
 darling leading home the prodigal ? I have got the ring 
 all ready." 
 
 " Well," said the child-missionary, rising up from her
 
 ELIDA'S VISIT. 415 
 
 nestling-place, " I think I will corne in the spring. You 
 see, 1 have promised to help aunt Abigail chop the meat 
 and punch the links with the new puncher ; and after 
 that it will be too cold to walk home, and they won't like 
 it if I don't stay. And now that I can come and see 
 you, and Elida is going to stay a little while, and father 
 has signed, it won't be so hard." She breathed a deep 
 breath, and waited for a reply. 
 
 " Why, my precious darling, auntie wants you very 
 much ; and if your poor papa could come and live with 
 us, we could nurse him up, and he would be less likely 
 to take to drinking again. Here there would be less 
 temptation. Mr. Trucman would find some employment 
 for him. Perhaps uncle Levi will bring you ; it would 
 be a long walk." 
 
 " 0, he can't drink again, auntie, now he's signed. 
 And then you wouldn't see us coming, and meet us with 
 the ring." 
 
 " 0, yes, I should. You could wait in the road till I 
 came. Wallace and Winnie are going to buy him an 
 entire new suit of clothes boots and all. But, darling, 
 you must say, stuff the ' sausages ; ' ' links ' isn't proper ; 
 and ' sausage-filler,' instead of ' puncher.' That is the 
 old-fashioned way." 
 
 " Well, 1 will tell aunt Abigail ; she don't know it." 
 
 "No, dear, you had better not; she wouldn't like to 
 have yon." Hester had a long talk with Levi, who very 
 willingly acceded to her wishes, and promised to bring 
 them in a few weeks. 
 
 "We shall miss her," ho said, with a grim smile; 
 "but she is better here. I shan't speak of this till the 
 time comes. They would be willing to lose Morgan ;
 
 416 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 for since be stopped drinking, he can't do a chore of 
 work." 
 
 " 0, well, he will when he has rested and recruited 
 a while ; and then he can find employment here, or go 
 back, just as you and he can agree," said Hester. Elida 
 was the same fun-loving child as ever, only a shade more 
 thoughtful. She met aunt Abigail as if she had known 
 her for years. 
 
 " Now tell me how to look like the Sharps, so that 
 grandmother and I can hitch our horses together, as the 
 old saying is," she said, in her queer way. Abigail 
 laughed. 
 
 " You'd better look out for the crutches, if she thinks 
 you look like Uester or the Loveriu's." 
 
 " 0, but I will look like the Sharps. Haven't you got 
 a picture of one of them ? " 
 
 " Xo ; that's the only one," said Abigail, pointing at 
 the bed ; " and she don't look as she did, I can tell you. 
 Between workin' and frettin', she's ready to blow away. 
 Better take yer knittin' when she's lookin', and knit like 
 a horse." 
 
 " Do your horses knit ? " was the jocose reply. 
 " Then I'll buy one when I earn enough, for I certainly 
 wear out stockings very fast." 
 
 " What is she savin', Nabby ? I wish ye wouldn't 
 mince so. I want to hear once in a while. 0, hum ! 
 that's what comes of marryin' third cousins." 
 
 " She wants some knittin'," screamed Abigail. " She's 
 goin' to arn enough to buy a horse, she says. She's got 
 the right kind of grit ain't she, marm ? and looks as 
 you did when you 's a gal don't she ? " 
 
 " Where's my best specks, Nabby ? I want to look
 
 ELTDA'S VISIT. 41 7 
 
 at her. I've forgot how I looked. You say she looks 
 like me. Ha, ha ! Horace said I was handsomer 'u 
 Hester once." Elida drew down her face, and, seating 
 herself in tbe range of the specs, commenced knitting. 
 She dared not raise her eyes ; she was full of suppressed 
 mirth, which she had to restrain with all her might. 
 
 " She's a Sharp," said the old lady, with great satis- 
 faction. " She looks like me, you say. Well, I guess 
 she does. I wish my leg was well. I'd larn her to 
 spin an' weavfc. She could have my loom an' am a horse 
 mighty quick. Ha, ha ! Good ! she ain't none o' yer 
 stuck-ups. Nabby, git her some of yer doughnuts, and 
 let her stay. There's victuals enough. She's got the 
 Sharp nose/' she muttered, feeling of her own. This 
 was too much. Elida commenced coughing and choking ; 
 she rushed out of the house, out of sight, and laughed 
 till the tears ran. " Git her some of my 'oarhound, 
 Nabby. I used to cough when I was her age ; it cured 
 me." 
 
 " There, uncle Lcvi, you've found me," said Elida, 
 lung-lung so that she could hardly speak. " Don't tell 
 them ; I couldn't help laughing, it is so funny ! My 
 poor nose 0, my poor nose! Grandmother says it's 
 the real Sharp, and 1 look like her. You see 1 can't 
 help laughing; I never could. I've got the bump, I 
 guess. Don't tell them." The laugh was contagious. 
 Lcvi laughed. Abigail came out with the candy, which 
 the old lady always kept on hand as an infallible remedy 
 for coughs. 
 
 " Here, take it," said Abigail, " and toll her you're 
 T. She'd eane ye if she knew what set ye to cough- 
 in'. Don't your nose ache '( '' 
 27
 
 418 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 " I am foolish to laugh so," was the reply. " Poor 
 old lady ! I arn glad she liked my pug nose ; but it 
 struck me as decidedly droll to hear her call it the Sharp 
 nose." Morgan Lentell did not take to the merry- 
 hearted girl as he did to her more quiet, thoughtful sis- 
 ter. He had an indistinct recollection of a pouting little 
 maiden, who stamped her tiny foot, and said, 
 
 " Go away, naughty man. I won't be your little girl. 
 I b'long here, and my name is Sunshine, it is." But 
 she made herself useful in many ways ; worked button- 
 holes for Levi, and starched arid crirnped grandmother's 
 caps very nicely, who, true to her early habits, was 
 scrupulously neat. Abigail finally permitted her to fix 
 over her black silk dress, " so as to have it ready to wear 
 if Simeon should be killed." 
 
 " Lide's got the real Sharp geno," said grandmother, 
 as she turned the clean crimped cap over and over, with 
 childish satisfaction. " None of the Loverin' blood in 
 her, I tell ye, Nabby ; she's a Sharp." 
 
 " She takes arter her aunt Nabby don't she, inarm ? " 
 said Abigail, with a sly wink at Elida. 
 
 " You, Nabby ? " she said, evasively " yes, I s'pose 
 so. You took arter me, when you 's a young one, under 
 foot all the time. Ha, ha ! " Grandmother's laughs 
 seemed not to come from the heart. They were hollow, 
 joyless, soulless, and made one feel like weeping. 
 
 " I will come every year and crimp your caps, if you 
 want me to," said Elida, " for I like to stay here." 
 
 " She's goin' to be married when the war is over," s;iM 
 Abigail, " and then she won't think of granny's caps or 
 Nabby's doughnuts." 
 
 " Yes, I shall think of crirnped caps and aunt Abi-
 
 ELIDA'S VISIT. 419 
 
 gail's doughnuts, and cheese, too, for they are the best 
 I ever ate." 
 
 " Pshaw ! " said Abigail, well pleased with the com- 
 pliment. " Pshaw ! I can't cook much. I wonder 
 where Fussy and Morgan are. That child makes me 
 think of an old hen scratching for a dozen chickens. 
 She follows her father, and watches him every minute. 
 He don't seem easy if she is out of sight a moment. I 
 caught her mending his pants the other day. Her little 
 white fingers warn't much bigger 'n the darn-needle she 
 was usin'. She thinks he never can drink again, because 
 he's signed. Poor thing ! she hain't lived as long as I 
 have." Elida felt reproved by her little sister's devo- 
 tion to their father. 
 
 " I will go and find them," she said. " Where do you 
 think they are ? " 
 
 " Down to the small house, as likely as anywhere." 
 She had shrunk from going there ; but she went, think- 
 ing, 
 
 " I live for self, Winnie and Fossie for others. Wal- 
 lace is fighting for home and country. I wish I had a 
 mission." She listened at the door, and heard a child's 
 voice pleading at the throne of grace. She opened it 
 softly, crept to the side of the two kneeling figures, and 
 knelt ; and when the low " amen " was uttered, she 
 wound her arm around Fossie's neck, and wept, say- 
 ing, 
 
 "Little sister, your work is not yet done. Teach me 
 to be a Christian." 
 
 " 0, I am not a Christian," said the child. " I am 
 Christ's little one, father says. Aunt Hester and they 
 at hum* 1 can t-a-li you. The Holy Spirit will tearh yu. 
 Don't cry, Elil.."
 
 420 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 . " 0, I must. I am a sinful girl. I laugh and sing, 
 and leave the hard work for you, little sister. 7 ' 
 
 " Well, it is my work, Elida. God will give you 
 some pretty soon, it may be, and then you will do it, I 
 know." Little prophet. 0, how little she knew the 
 significance of those prophetic words ! They three sat 
 there in the dark, damp, dismal room, and talked of the 
 dear sainted mother in heaven, of aunt Hester's home, 
 of grandpa's bedroom, where the prodigal was to sleep, 
 of the ring, the clothes, and the fatted calf. 
 
 " Dear father," said Elida, " I know you will love me 
 the least of all your children, I am so unlike the rest. 
 But I am going to be good to you. I wish I was differ- 
 ent. What makes me so ' chipper,' as grandmother calls 
 it ? and it is the right name. I want you to love me a 
 little won't you ? " 
 
 " Yes," was the quick reply, " I will ; and I will tell 
 you some time what makes you so different. There is 
 Abigail's horn : it can't be tea-time." 
 
 " Fussy Sharp, whcre've ye been to ? " said the queru- 
 lous old lady. " Nabby can't light my pipe worth a 
 cent." 
 
 " Marm is uncommonly pious to-day," said Abigail. 
 " She has read the Bible ever since you went out. 
 There, she is at it again. Listen. She boasts of not 
 goin' to school, and I used to think it was smart ; but 
 I've done with that. I wish I knew something." 
 
 " In S-a-l-e-m, Salum, a-l-s-o, also, is his t-a-b-e-r-n-a-c-1-e, 
 ta-barn'a-cle. Nabby, who is he a talkin' about there ? 
 I've been to Salum ; I've never seen any ta-&ani-a-cle 
 have you?" Abigail laughed; Levi laughed. "That 
 will do to go with your ' ilunux ' (that's what .she calls
 
 ELIDA'S VISIT. 421 
 
 phalanx], and the other day she read about the ' bell-e- 
 ge'rents ' belligerents she meant." 
 
 " Xabby, what's he sayin' ? Why donjt ye tell me 
 whose" here she spelled it again, and pronounced 
 it " ta-6arn/a-cle it is ? " 
 
 " Marm," said Abigail, "we're laughin' at your larn- 
 in', that ye got in six weeks. Better read to yerself." 
 
 " Ye be are ye ? " said the old lady in a rage. " I 
 never brung ye up to treat yer betters in that way. 
 Didn't I spin and weave, and buy and sell ? and warn't 
 my family as well off as if I'd spent my life in a book- 
 cover, like a worm ? 0, hum ! I never 'd orter married 
 him : he was my third cousin," she muttered. 
 
 " There are uncle Edward and aunt Hester," said 
 Elida, turning pale ; for she saw the deep grief in their 
 faces, in spite of all their efforts to be strong, that tho 
 stricken heart might lean on them. " Aunt Abigail," 
 she said, clutching her nervously by the arm, " I know 
 some one is dead." 
 
 " 0, may be not," was the reply. " Don't tell marm 
 who 'tis, or we shall have a scene." Elida stood trem- 
 bling, with her cold hands pressed firmly over the white, 
 white face. Abigail opened the door. Ilester and tho 
 doctor saw at a glance that their errand was compre- 
 hended, perhaps exaggerated. 
 
 " Come in, for God's sake," said Abigail, " if ye can 
 help her. She's dying, I do believe." 
 
 " 0, no," said the doctor ; " she will be relieved when 
 I tell her that Albert is only wounded, and wants her to 
 corne and nurse him." 
 
 " Nurse him ! " she said, tho hands unclasping.
 
 422 HESTEE STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 " Where is he ? How ? or when ? God, I thank 
 thee that he is not killed, and I may see him again." 
 
 "Be calm, darling, be calm," said Hester. ''Lucy- 
 has a mightier grief than yours is yet. Albert, we 
 think, will certainly recover, with you to nurse and 
 uncle Edward to look after him. He will go with you." 
 They did not tell her then that he was crippled for life ; 
 they felt that she could not bear it. "But alas! we 
 cannot raise the dead. Poor Frank ! poor Emma ! and 
 poor, dear, stricken Lucy ! " 
 
 " Then George is dead," said Elida, as she commenced 
 to weep. " Lucy ! Lucy ! What if 0, I could not 
 bear it ! I have been so hopeful and giddy, when they 
 have been facing such perils, enduring such hardships 
 for me. When can we go, uncle Edward ? 0, I wish I 
 could fly ! Where is Wallace ? " 
 
 " On his way home with dear George's remains," was 
 the reply, " and very well." 
 
 " Nabby, who be they ? " said grandmother, impa- 
 tiently ; " and what's to pay ? Is Simeon dead hey ? 
 Do tell me." 
 
 " Elida's beau has got shot in the leg, and her cousin is 
 dead, and these are her friends come for her to go home." 
 
 " 0, hum ! " was the reply ; " I'm glad 'taint Simeon. 
 I wouldn't take on so, if I's Lida ; why, I didn't even 
 cry when your father died. She can't go can she ? 
 She hain't got your dress done." 
 
 " Pshaw ! " said Abigail ; " here, come in this way," 
 opening the parlor door. " Let me get ye a cup of tea 
 afore ye start." 
 
 Hester gratefully accepted the offer. This had been a 
 hard, trying day. Yes, she would be glad of a cup of
 
 ELIDA'S VISIT. 423 
 
 tea. She felt weak and weary. She must find Fossio 
 and her father. She must see Levi if possible. Wal- 
 lace would remain at home on furlough. If they could 
 come home before he returned, what a comfort ! Hester 
 prepared Elida very gently for the worst, and yet she 
 almost fainted when she knew that the poor limb was 
 gone forever, and that henceforth the tall, manly form 
 would be shorn of its graceful beauty and strength. 
 
 " If I could bear it for him ! " she said ; " if it could 
 be me ! 0, Albert ! Albert ! your sacrifice has been 
 great greater to you, perhaps, than the loss of life, 
 but to me infinitely less. Auntie, I am glad I learned 
 dress-making," she said, with a half smile. " God is 
 giving me something to do. I have lived for self so 
 far." 
 
 " Yes," said Hester, " God is indeed giving you a 
 work to do ; and I feel confident you will do it faith- 
 fully. Dear child, I want you to trust in Jesus. Give 
 your heart to him, and all will be well." 
 
 " Auntie, I want to be a Christian. I see the beauty 
 of true religion more and more. There is an entire lack 
 of Christian principle in grandmother Lcntell's family. 
 It pained me to see the poor, decrepit old lady treated 
 so disrespectfully. She is their mother, and so aged! 
 They laugh at her ignorance, when, it may be, she had 
 no one to insist on her going to school. I verily believe 
 I should have been as ignorant as she, had I lived in her 
 day, and followed my own inclinations. You had hard 
 work to get me started up the hill of science didn't you, 
 auntie ? I thank you for taking the trouble, though I 
 thought it hard at the time. Auntie, I see it now. I 
 wanted to live for fun that was all."
 
 424 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 " I pity your grandmother," said Hester. She did 
 not tell the young girl how much she hud to blame her 
 for. " I pity her; she had no one to cultivate her affec- 
 tions or educate her. On the contrary, her parents bo- 
 fore her gloried in their ignorance, and hired her to stay 
 from school. For her want of mental culture she is not 
 responsible ; but, Elida, she is responsible for her want 
 of Christian culture. If she were an earnest, trusting 
 Christian, she would challenge respect from all reputa- 
 ble persons." 
 
 " 0, how long the time seems ! " said Elida, walking 
 up and down the room. " How can I wait? He may 
 be worse dying even. I may never see him alive." 
 
 "I feel that he will live," said Hester, calmly ; " I 
 think he will. Only think how slowly the hours must be 
 dragging along at uncle Frank's ! No hope for them 
 nothing to do but to wait and weep. Think of them in 
 their desolation, dear ! it will help you. Think of pool 
 Lucy ! nothing left for her but the cold, cold clay. No 
 word, or look, or sound nothing but the mournful 
 privilege of burying the loved one, and weeping over 
 the honored dead. He was brave, noble, and generous, 
 and has left a name ; was lovely, and they loved him ; 
 and when the sorely-smitten hearts have sobbed out the 
 mighty anguish, and gained relief in that way, then the 
 love and the noble needs of daring will come to comfort 
 and cheer them in their darkened way. Pleasant memo- 
 ries, bequeathed to us by the dying, are better far than 
 wealth. You, dear child, have a sad, sweet meeting to 
 look forward to ; so hope on to the end." 
 
 The village bells tolled long and mournfully on the 
 day when Wallace arrived with the dust of his friend
 
 THE SOLDIER'S FUNERAL. 425 
 
 and brother in a common cause. There was a laurel 
 wreath on the bosom of the dead, and epaulets on the 
 shoulders, and glory such as a king might covet en- 
 shrouding the soldier's clay. The aged pastor, who had 
 officiated very acceptabty in the absence of the young 
 man who had taken his place at the altar, followed the 
 little procession, with bowed head, to the stricken father's 
 house. It was he that dedicated him to God at the bap- 
 tismal font ; it was fit and proper that he should say, 
 " Ashes to ashes, and dust to dust/' when they buried 
 him. 
 
 Reader, you understand it all. 0, you know how the 
 pulses stop, how the soul seems to shrink and shiver 
 when the lid is closed, and how the cold earth, as it rat- 
 tles on the coffin, grates upon every nerve. Instinctive- 
 ly you wish to shield the dear one. In your anguish, 
 you forget that the casket is empty. The soul is gone, 
 but yet the dust is precious. 
 
 " I thank my God," murmured the weeping mother, 
 "that we could bury him, and keep his hallowed dust 
 from sacrilege. Isn't it a comfort to you, dear Lucy ? " 
 
 " It ought to be," she said ; " but I can't, 0, I can't 
 feel it yet. Dear Mrs. Levering, let me go to mother. 
 0, let me go. I shall distress you. I never thought he 
 would die. I'll come when I feel stronger. 0, shall I 
 ever ? " 
 
 " Yes, dear, you will grow calm and peaceful some 
 time. This is your first great sorrow, and it is hard to 
 bear ; I know it. If you could have been married, it 
 would not seem so sad. We love you as a daughter, 
 and for dear George's sake, love us won't you ? " 
 
 " I love you all, and George could not have been
 
 426 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WOKIv. 
 
 dearer than he was. But in the selfishness of my great 
 grief, I wish we could have been joined in the holy bonds 
 of marriage. I could speak of him so much more freely, 
 and feel that I had a right to speak his praises, and talk 
 about his love." Reader, these scenes have been so 
 familiar in the last few years, that I need not dwell upon 
 them. And then they followed each other so rapidly! 
 
 There came a sorrow you remember it so much deep- 
 er and broader than any which had preceded it, that we, 
 for the moment, forgot all other griefs. It was not the 
 family circle alone that had been broken ; nay, verily, a 
 nation's chief had fallen ; at such a time, too, and in such a 
 way ! Arid then the mourning came so very near to the 
 rejoicing ! It was as if death had entered the banquet- 
 hall at the hour of feasting, and smitten, with cruel hate 
 and malice never matched before, the honored master, 
 and left the happy guests dumb with grief. 0, who cau 
 picture the scene ! 
 
 One day there came news " Richmond has fallen ! " 
 How we had looked, and longed, and waited for that 
 news ! It meant to us peace, instead of war dea v ones 
 at home again ; it meant everything desirable. It was a 
 day which would emancipate our noble, self-denying 1 , im- 
 prisoned soldiers from a doom than which there never 
 was anything more terrible ; and God grant there never 
 may be a place inhabited by men so full of woe and ter- 
 ror ! Famine and death, in its most hideous form, went 
 hand in hand ; literally, it was a place of skeletons. 
 God of justice, is there a place for such men as those 
 who gloated and gloried in the hunger and thirst, in the 
 blood and tears, of helpless men, mocking even the agony 
 of such a death is there a place for such men and such 
 women to repent ?
 
 THE LAUREL WREATH. 42T 
 
 Thou, God, knowcst. Well, we thought our calamities 
 were over; freedom had triumphed over oppression 
 right over wrong. Was it strange that we were almost 
 intoxicated with joy ? Was it strange that the very 
 church bells danced and made music to the nation's 
 heart, as it beat exultant, and said, " Hurrah " ? Even 
 the deadly weapons of war, the cruel instruments of 
 death, were forced to cease their work of destruction, 
 and make melody ! The nation's heart was full : it 
 could not be expressed ; and so the cannon roared, the 
 drums beat, the bells rang, and men said, " Hurrah ! " 
 children shouted, " Hurrah ! " 
 
 Even the mourning ones they whose beloved lay 
 mouldering on the enemy's soil smiled brightly, and 
 forgot their sorrows ; and, arnid the joy and exultation, 
 devout thanks went up to God, the Giver of it all. 
 
 It was only a little while, you know, almost before 
 the noise of sudden mirth had been hushed into quiet 
 thankfulness, that the stunning blow fell upon us, and 
 the great, honest, loving heart, upon which we had come 
 to lean with a child's confiding love, lay motionless in 
 death. Yes, God had raised up for us, in the hour of our 
 extremity, an honest man. He had been like "the shadow 
 of a great rock in a weary land." We rested in his 
 shadow ; it was a pleasant shade, and we loved it ; not 
 blindly, for we had tried it, and it had not been found 
 wanting. And they buried him, too our Lincoln, the 
 nation's hero, an able, honest, truthful, temperate man. 
 It was a nation's funeral, and the tears were honest tears 
 of sorrow and regret. But, after all, we did not fully 
 realize the magnitude of our loss. Our grief would have 
 been despair, perchance, if we could have seen the future,
 
 428 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 as it came surging on, freighted with the most tremen- 
 dous interests to us and the world. 
 
 Yes, we should have been paralyzed with fear and 
 consternation, could we have seen the future, and real- 
 ized how unskilful, unsteady, and utterly unreliable, was 
 the hand which held our nation's destiny.
 
 CALL ON TUE DIFFERENT FAMILIES. 429 
 
 CHAPTER XLI. 
 
 OUR LAST CALL ON THE DIFFERENT FAMILIES IN OUR WORLD. 
 HARMONY'S DYING WISH ACCOMPLISHED, HER FAITH RE- 
 WARDED, OR THE CONCLUSION OF THE WHOLE MATTER. 
 
 THE war is over, of course you know ; or at least the 
 noise of battle and the call to arms have ceased. We 
 hear no more about drafted men, and high bounties, or 
 victories and defeats. Mr. Trueman has not been idle. 
 He has discharged the duties of collector faithfully at 
 homo, and acted as paymaster in the army of the West 
 with great acceptability, with the rank of major. Hon- 
 est, self-denying worth has been rewarded. His business 
 at home has not suffered. Walter has learned to talk 
 straight way about, long ago, and, with mother's and 
 sister's help, he has attended to home trade successfully. 
 Could you look in upon the family circle, now that they 
 have been reunited, you would thank God, with us, that 
 there is such a thing as a united, happy family, who 
 " love God and keep his commandments," " in honor 
 preferring one another." And you would see, also, that 
 second marriages, if sensibly formed, are pleasant and 
 profitable to all concerned. An own mother, be sho who 
 she may, could not comfort and console Lucy in her deep 
 alilirti.ui brUtT than the step-mother; and- Lucy clings 
 upon her as a daughter !>lu>uU. Mr. Frank 
 Lo\ ding's family have bcdi cli.i. tened by their ailikliun ;
 
 430 IIESTEK STRONG'S LIFE WOHK. 
 
 drawn nearer together, if possible, since they laid their 
 first-born away in the silence of death. A new cord is 
 drawing their thoughts upward, and uniting them to God, 
 " who doeth all things well." The Loverings, generally, 
 are enjoying as much happiness and prosperity as is 
 common to the lot of man. They are reaping the benefits 
 of an early Christian training, and cultivated minds and 
 hearts. Dr. Edward has an extensive practice, and is 
 doing much good. Mr. Giles is Mr. Giles no longer, only 
 in name. He has been with Him " who is meek and 
 lowly of heart," and learned of him. Old habits stick 
 to him, he says ; but he is fighting the good fight, and 
 will finally triumph. Ann is a revised edition of her for- 
 mer self; happier than we supposed she ever could be. 
 Christian love works wonders, imperfect as it is in the 
 human heart. It was the children's mission to teach Ann 
 to love, first themselves, and through that human love 
 she may yet learn to forgive, and ask forgiveness and 
 wisdom of " Him who giveth liberally, and upbraideth 
 not." Elevia seems not a day older than she was when 
 she went home to die, as she and we supposed. Tier 
 early dream of returned affection and a happy home is 
 realized. The Wileys are Wileys yet ; God pity them ! 
 They too, are reaping the reward of their doings. Their 
 daughter, whom they loved, it is true, with a sordid love, 
 which is born of earth, has disappointed them sorely. 
 They taught her to be selfish and self-seeking ; and so, 
 when, in the progress of the war (after she had recovered 
 from her mortification and chagrin at failing to win How- 
 ard Trueman.), the fair maidens of the loyal North wrote 
 patriotic letters to the soldier boys, Envena cast in her 
 lot also. She was deceived by an empty title, a g\iy
 
 CALL ON TUE DIFFERENT FAMILIES. 431 
 
 exterior, and caught at a hook which appeared to be 
 golden, but it was only sounding brass. The fast young 
 man came to see her. The father said he was too fast, 
 altogether too fast. " But he looks well ; he makes a 
 show." He was a captain, and might be general. 
 
 " As likely as not he will be general," said the doting 
 mother. " Hold on to him, Venie, and see." 
 
 " I shall be likely to," said the daughter. " Mrs. Gen- 
 eral Cowell ; it sounds well. Won't they envy me ? Mam- 
 ina, I shall be married in rose-colored silk, with white 
 lace looped up over it with orange blossoms and gerani- 
 ums, and nothing but a japonica in my hair. Aunt Ann 
 may go ; I shall be rich enough without her paltry for- 
 tune. I wonder which of the children will get it." 
 
 " My daughter, you mustn't look ahead too far," said 
 the proud, happy mother ; " hold on/ and wait." 
 
 Had they known Captain Cowell, they would have been 
 certain he would not wait. There was property enough 
 to tempt a man with an empty purse, an empty heart, and 
 an empty title which did not pay ; for he assumed it with- 
 out Uncle Sam's consent. He came often. " Officers 
 could get leave of absence," he said ; and then he loved 
 her so. He might die in battle, he might, brave 
 captains were often shot in battle, and then she could 
 inherit none of his property, or glory, or pension, not 
 even his name. And so one day, without the consent of 
 parents, the rose-colored silk, the white lace, or even the 
 japonica, they were married privately ; and then, in spite 
 of parental frowns, the bride and bridegroom had such a 
 honeymoon as is seldom seen. It was more than bright, 
 it was brilliant ; it was more than joyous, it was jubilant. 
 They rode, they walked, they feasted. In the chuivh they
 
 432 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 smiled, and looked into each other's faces and smiled, and 
 crept closer and closer to each other ; and the people 
 smiled a half mournful, pitying smile. But the end 
 came, the bubble burst. The counterfeit was discovered 
 when too late. Self-seeking ended in abasement. 
 
 I intended to tell you, at some length, that Howard 
 graduated from the Theological Seminary with honor ; 
 paid a visit to the soldier boys, and labored for them 
 three months ; came home, obtained a very desirable set- 
 tlement in a pleasant, thriving village, and married our 
 favorite, Winnie Lentell, the successful teacher, who, in 
 spite of many obstacles, was greatly beloved by her 
 scholars, as well as numerous personal friends. But my 
 book is getting too large, they tell me ; and then the 
 wedding was a calm, thoughtful, grave wedding; they 
 realized what they were doing, but were happy, neverthe- 
 less, calmly, sensibly happy. And now they have been 
 married some years, but their tones are not less ten- 
 der, nor their smiles less sweet. Envena is not envied 
 by any one to-day ; they pity her, and none more than 
 the gentle, loving Winnie, as she folds her birdie boy to 
 her mother bosom, and caresses the sweet head nestling, 
 there, or goes quietly into Howard's study, to see if . 
 the minister is grappling with some mighty thought, or 
 whether he has mastered his theme, and waits for her to 
 listen to the result, with the satisfaction of a loving heart 
 in the success of the beloved one. They are happy, 
 very : why should they not be ? They live for others, 
 and not for self alone ; for eternity, and not for time only. 
 God bless them and their baby boy. Its name is Geor- 
 gie. Winnie's heart has been disciplined and tried, until, 
 Howard says, there is nothing left but the pure gold ; and
 
 CALL ON THE DIFFERENT FAMILIES. 433 
 
 she is the most contented and happy little wife and mother 
 in the land. 
 
 "Howard/' she says, "is so generous, noble, and 
 strong, that I am satisfied. God has cleared up the clouds 
 that hung- over my childhood, and I ought to love him, 
 and I will praise him while 1 live." 
 
 Poor Envena ! she is sadder and paler now. The little 
 innocent one at her bosom calls up no pleasant emotions, 
 no happy smiles ; nothing but vain regret. She is not a 
 general's wife ; 0, no ; she knows not that she is a wife 
 at all. Her husband has not been heard from, though she 
 has sought for him with the energy of despair. No such 
 name appeared among the captains of the regiment in- 
 which he served ; but a man answering to his description 
 was counted among the deserters of our army. Only 
 this they knew : that bill after bill came in to Mr. Wiley 
 on his daughter's account the price of her few weeks 
 of joyous revelry during the honeymoon. They paid 
 them, in silent amazement, and thought to hush the mat- 
 ter up. And now, as the months roll on, and the disap- 
 pointment takes deeper root in their hearts, they speak 
 of their daughter's bereavement, and say that her hus- 
 band " the captain," died for his country in a Southern 
 prison. But they can get no clew to him ; and there is 
 no state aid for her, or the fatherless little girl in her 
 arms. God ! help and bless the little one, and bring 
 it into a better life ! 
 
 Mr. Stillman is moving along at a slow pace nothing 
 better, but rather worse. Mrs. Stillman is going on in 
 the right way, keeping boarders for a livelihood. J;irk, 
 poor, misguided, ruined Jack, died on the battle-firld, 
 honorably, she thinks. Well, let her think so ; give her 
 28
 
 43JL HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 this little comfort. It would do no good to enlighten 
 her ; but his comrades know that he was shot in a drunken 
 fray. Poor Jack ! you might have been a great, good, 
 noble man, with a different training. 
 
 Clara, once the belle of the village, is sitting quietly 
 in a comfortable easy-chair, reading a little, working a 
 little, or resting a little, as the case may be. She is 
 beautiful yet, though the roses and the healthful round- 
 ness have departed from her cheek. She is an invalid, 
 and always will be, until the mortal shall have put on 
 immortality in the better life. The beauty which she 
 now wears is the beauty of holiness ; the light in her 
 eye is the light of eternal love ; the peace of God is 
 resting upon her ; and she, too, is satisfied, or will be when 
 she shall awake in his likeness, and behold him as he is. 
 
 " I thank God," she says daily, " that I am what I 
 am a feeble, suffering invalid ; and not a child of sorrow 
 sold unto sin, steeped in pollution, as my companion 
 and playmate, the beautiful, the queenly, but fallen Re- 
 gena Steele has become. Regena, Regena ! would 
 that I could snatch you like a brand from the burning, 
 and save you from the wrath of an offended God ! " she 
 said often ; until one day an enormous trunk came to the 
 village depot, containing the cast off finery of poor, mis- 
 guided, lost Regena Steele, and also a written account 
 of her journey from the boarding-house to her " elegant 
 city home " prison, her desertion and despair. 
 
 " My pride triumphed/' she wrote, " and I, in my 
 turn, became the destroyer, the betrayer, of innocence. 
 But my reign is over. Ere this reaches you I shall have 
 gone to sleep, never more to wake. There is no here- 
 after none. I am glad. I could not meet the just and
 
 CALL ON THE DIFFERENT FAMILIES. 435 
 
 holy God the Bible speaks of T couldn't. But it is 
 well enough to believe in him while we live, I wish I 
 had. Mother, had you sent me to meeting, and taught 
 me the religion of the Bible, I should have been happier 
 in this life, and useful to my fellow-men, instead of what 
 I am and have been. But it is no matter now ; my 
 wrongs are all avenged. The wretch who made me what 
 I am died, no matter how. I am weary and sick of life 
 of self; and, now that I can endure it no longer, I, too, 
 G ,J to rest in the bosom of mother earth. Fare- 
 well. 0, I am longing for rest. I hold that in my 
 hand that will give it to me. Farewell forevermore." 
 
 Mrs. Stillman and Clara enjoy much in spite of adverse 
 circumstances. Onr Father in heaven pity and comfort 
 them. Let us cross the street and enter the house where 
 the first Mrs. Gray fell a charred and blackened vic- 
 tim to Mr. Stillman and the rum he sold for gain, 
 which was cursed of Heaven, and proved a curse to 
 him. The house is changed since that terrible tragedy. 
 How changed it is, and for the better ! There is a step- 
 mother in it, too. So you see, reader, that the hap- 
 piness of a family depends on whether it is composed of 
 true men and women, and obedient children, rather than 
 upon anything else don't you sec it ? Step-mothers 
 are blessings, inestimable blessings, when the own mother 
 is gone, to return no more, if love, purity, and fidel- 
 ity prevail in the family circle ; and there can be no 
 happiness where they do not, be it own mother or step- 
 mother that sits at the head of the table, presiding 
 over all. 
 
 Mrs. Cray, the second, was a rare jewel; and the 
 children "arose and called her blessed; her husband
 
 436 HESTER STROl'G'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 also praised her." She wan a good, judicious, own 
 mother to Henry Herbert, who is now settled on his 
 father's homestead at the West. Hattie is very happy, 
 only that she misses home friends. They think of com- 
 ing East, now that Elida and Albert cannot go to them, 
 as they at first intended. Their purposes are broken 
 off. And she was a good mother to her husband's chil- 
 dren, too, and a tender, loving mother to little Ella 
 Gray, the youngest pet. There was no room for envy in 
 her motherly heart. All honor to the mother of them 
 all. The lame boy, who had lost bis good right leg in 
 his country's service, and his happy little Sunshine, call 
 her blessed. Theirs was a peculiar wedding. There 
 was much sad tenderness mixed and mingled in the 
 heart-felt congratulations of friends, it was so different 
 from what they expected before the war ! Ou account 
 of Albert's feeble, almost helpless state, the return of 
 the prodigal was delayed until spring. The little mis- 
 sionary was content ; she was teaching them to love. 
 Her work there was not done. 
 
 Lottie and her husband, the young pastor of the vil- 
 lage church, call Mrs. Gray blessed, as well as Ilattie 
 arid Henry Herbert. Little pet will lisp it soon ; and 
 Mr. Gray, the elder, is the most blessed of them all in 
 the possession of such a wife. She is the planner of all 
 their happy schemes, the sharer of all their joys, and the 
 bearer of all their sorrows. And Hester, the strong, 
 the noble, the generous, the loving Hester, seemed to be 
 the grandmother of them all. How they loved and ven- 
 erated her! And aunt Martha the gentle, care-taking, 
 loving Martha was the household aunt, you see ; Mr. 
 and Mrs. Gray's aunt, Henry's and Hattie's, Albert's
 
 CALL ON THE DIFFEBENT FAMILIES. 43T 
 
 and Elida's, Lottie's and the minister's, Howard's and 
 Winnie's aunt, I mean. But to Fossie and Fossie's 
 father she was more, a great deal more, than aunt. 
 Hers was a mother's love for them. 0, let me tell you 
 that the fatted calf was killed and eaten some time since, 
 but not until Wallace and Elida came with their precious 
 hero soldier, crowned a martyr to freedom. The little 
 missionary spoke a prophecy when she said, 
 
 " God will give you something to do, sister, and you 
 will do it ; I know you will." Hester spoke truly when 
 she said, " God is preparing a life work for you, and I 
 feel sure you will do it faithfully." Hers was just the 
 disposition to cheer the wounded hero, and make him 
 forget his loss. It was Hester that gave them a deed of 
 half the old Manlie mansion, which was kept in good 
 repair, and seemed not to grow old any faster than its 
 mistress. 
 
 It was Martha, the aunt of all of them, and Mrs. Gray, 
 the mother of them all, that fitted it up, with a little 
 store in one end, and everything nice and cosy, so that 
 the children could be happy. " Albert must have some- 
 thing to do," they said, " or he will miss the .strength 
 and freedom of other days." 
 
 And so the noise and smoke of war rolled away, and 
 tlic sun shone in the Manlie house clearer and brighter 
 than ever before. For the little willing exile, the child- 
 missionary, had kept her promise, and come home at 
 last, leading the prodigal in his right mind. They fed 
 and clothed him, bound up his bruises, and poured llic 
 oil of consolation into his weak and wounded spirit. For 
 he li:s 1 liccn among thieves, you know. 
 
 Little .Mary, grandpa's Mary, auntie's Mary, and
 
 438 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 now papa's Mary, you shall wear him as a crown of 
 joy and great rejoicing in that day when the Judge of all 
 the earth shall count hie jewels. Little Fossie, thy faith 
 hath saved thy father ; go on hoping, and trusting, and 
 working, and waiting. 
 
 "Wallace Lentell, Groceries, Grain, &c." that is 
 the new sign over the old one where Air. Truemau's 
 name had stood the test of many a storm. " Trueman 
 and Son, Dealers in Dry and Fancy Goods," is the sign 
 overhead. A fine establishment it is now, refitted and 
 refilled. There is a new house over the way, almost 
 finished. Whom do you think it is for ? It is no secret. 
 Wallace and Susie Trueman, they say, will live there, 
 and Morgan Lentell, the reformed inebriate. What won- 
 der if he is proud of his children ! Only he has no rea- 
 son to be proud: pleased that would sound better. 
 He has done nothing to form their characters ; other 
 hands and other hearts did that. 
 
 Well, he is grateful ; they are all grateful, and as hap- 
 py as love and gratitude can make them in this fallen 
 world. Such a time as they had when the prodigal re- 
 turned ! The Loverings were there, all of them, 
 little and big ; the Truemans, ditto ; only one baby in 
 the family, you know ; that is Howard's : Mason Giles 
 and family, too. 
 
 Aunt Ann " s'posed she must go to take care of the 
 pickanins," she said, with one of her grim smiles, which 
 was half a tear, I ween. Aunt Abigail was there, with 
 her black silk dress on, and a pale, sad face, softer than 
 it had been, for Simeon was dead starved in the South- 
 ern prison-house of death. That was the hardest of it 
 all, she said he to starve, when the house was full of
 
 HAKMONY'S DYING WISII ACCOMPLISHED. 439 
 
 food. The hand of the little missionary had unlocked 
 the door of her heart, and let the light of a holy, purify- 
 ing love into her soul. A little leaven will leaven the 
 whole lump, perchance. Levi was there, too. lie and 
 Abigail smiled at each other when the child-missionary 
 touched his arm, and whispered, 
 
 " Stop here, uncle, please. It must be a good way 
 off, you know. Aunt Hester will see us." And she 
 did came to meet them ; placed the ring on his little 
 finger, the same ring which he had placed upon Harmo- 
 ny's many, many years before. 
 
 " God bless you, Morgan ; in the name of your sainted 
 wife I bless you ! And, now that you are freed from 
 your terrible bondage to drink, I welcome you td our 
 home and our loving hearts. God bless and keep you, 
 and at last unite you to her who loved you to the last. 
 Come and receive the blessing of your children her 
 children and our children." 
 
 Mr. Lentell stood with his head uncovered, and bowed 
 very low. lie was too much affected to answer only by 
 a firm clasping of the hand, which had so often minis- 
 tered to the necessities of his wife and children. Little 
 Fossie did not dance for joy. 0, no ! Her emotions 
 Avrre too deep to be expressed in that way. She watched 
 the proceedings with a calm, deep interest, with her 
 small hands folded tightly, her head bent forward, drink- 
 ing in every word with an intensity of emotion painful 
 to behold. If I am not mistaken, a tear glistened in 
 Abigail's eye. Levi was much affected. He opened his 
 strong arms, saying, 
 
 " Little Fossie, come to uncle : you have done it all. 
 l.lcss you, little Fossie; you have shamed me out
 
 440 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 of my sullenness and selfishness ; and now I mean to 
 live for something better than self." Fossie crept into 
 the open arms, and nestled there, saying, 
 
 "It is God that has done it, uncle Levi ; I couldn't. 
 I am only a little girl ; but they said God had given me 
 a mission ; so I went to find it. I am glad I did 0, 
 so glad ! " and then the strong emotion of the child 
 found vent in tears. Levi patted the head of the weep- 
 ing child, and brushed a tear from his own eye, impa- 
 tiently. Abigail was distressed to see her weeping so. 
 
 "Don't, Fossie;" she called her that now "don't 
 crv > y u have more reason to laugh, child. You've 
 done us good. Aunt Abigail shan't forget ye ; and ye've 
 promised to come twice a year, and help her and uncle 
 Levi to crawl out of their crusts, you know. I was a 
 crabbed old thing when you came, child, and should have 
 died so, only for you. Come and shake hands with me 
 now, and say good by ; for I shall miss ye as much as 
 Hester and the rest on uui did." Fossie threw her 
 arms around. Abigail's neck, and kissed her with real 
 affection. 
 
 " Yes," she said, " I will come, auntie " (she dared 
 to say "auntie" now) " I will come and help you 
 and uncle Levi about your mission." 
 
 " What do you mean by that, Fossie ? " said Abigail. 
 
 " 0, I mean taking care of poor grandmother, and not 
 minding if she does fret ; she is so old and sick, you 
 see." 
 
 " Yes, I see," was the reply ; "I'll try to bear it bet- 
 ter : good by." 
 
 " 1 shan't hear a word of your going home till you 
 have tasted of the fatted calf," said Ilester ; " it would
 
 CONCLUSION. 441 
 
 be too bad. Come, get right out of the carriage ; put 
 your horse into the barn ; I will send a boy to help you.' 7 
 They were not very loath to stop when sufficiently urged 
 by Hester and Martha, joined by their nephews and 
 nieces ; that was how they came to be there. 
 
 " We must be careful not to embarrass them with 
 attentions, or slight them," said Hester to the company 
 before they entered. Winnie and Howard met them 
 cordially, and held up the baby boy for a little notice. 
 Elida received them as old friends, and led them to her 
 hero husband with fond, tender affection ; and they 
 looked upon him with reverent pity. They knew how 
 brave he had been. 
 
 " If Simeon could have come home in that way, I 
 should have been satisfied," said Abigail. 
 
 " Yes," said Hester, " it was the hardest of all to 
 have him starve ; it was a cruel, cruel thing. God re- 
 ward them." 
 
 " He will," said Abigail. " I believe in future punish- 
 ment now ; it must be true." Wallace introduced Susie 
 Trueman, the future Mrs. Lentell. 
 
 "And here is my husband's sister," said Elida; 
 " Lottie Gray that was, Lottie El wood that is. 0, there 
 comes Mr. Elwood, her husband and our minister. He 
 married us, Albert and me, and I presume he will 
 do the same kind deed for Wallace and Susie soon," she 
 said, archly. " Now I think somebody ought to make a 
 speech. This is a great occasion. Come, uncle Levi." 
 
 "I am not clever at that business," said Levi. "I 
 can hold a plough and drive a team ; that is about all. 
 Make one yourself, Elida ; you are a Sharp, you know," 
 he whispered. Elida laughed.
 
 442 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 " I, too, think some one ought to make a speech," 
 said Morgan Lentell, turning to Hester, who was- stand- 
 ing by his side. " I want to thank you now, and here, 
 for making my children what they are for doing what 
 I ought to have helped you do. I never could have 
 done for them what you have done, and 1 thank all the 
 friends for their kindness to them. May God reward 
 you all. I feel unworthy to call myself their father. 
 But," he said, " if God will help me, and you can bear 
 with me, they shall yet love and respect me before I 
 die. Some time," he said, with great emotion, " I may 
 tell the world how this child " he placed his hand upon 
 the head of little Fossie "sought and saved me ; but not 
 now." After a moment's profound silence, Ilestcr said, 
 in a cheerful voice, 
 
 " I am more than repaid for all I have done I may 
 say we ; for I have had many and cheerful helpers. Yes, 
 I feel amply rewarded for all the anxiety of the past ; 
 for I have seen the dying wish of our darling Harmony 
 accomplished, her faith rewarded, and I am satisfied. 
 Henceforth I have little to do but lean on those loving 
 hi-arts, and rest ; for I am old, now, and weary. Lit- 
 tle Fossie promised me she would come back with her 
 father before I needed her ; and she has come just in 
 time. But," she added, in a still more cheerful strain, 
 " I only brought home four, and now I give you back as 
 good as seven ; and seven as good and intelligent chil- 
 dren as you will find, I don't care where you look. 
 Haven't I been successful? Now let me go "and see 
 about the fatted calf, or Martha will have cause for com- 
 plaint, like Martha of old, and there will be no gentle 
 Master to rebuke her."
 
 CONCLUSION. 443 
 
 " She won't complain, aunt Hester," said Wallace, 
 " so long as she has grandmother, and Mrs. Trueman, and 
 Mrs. Gray, with others of like stamp, to assist her. 
 Stay ; you have done enough for one human being, and 
 done it well enough to satisfy j^ourself, I hope. Let us 
 minister to you, our giiardian and friend from childhood 
 until now." Grandpa Lovering appeared, announcing 
 that supper was ready, his face radiant with happiness. 
 Mr. Lovejoy asked a blessing upon the sumptous meal, 
 and the united family, and all present, in his usual 
 happy manner ; and Mr. Elwood, the young minister of 
 the parish, returned thanks for all God's goodness to 
 them ! from a full heart, fervently ; and then the company 
 were entertained by a few patriotic songs. These chil- 
 dren were all singers, and Lottie Elwood was leader of 
 the village choir, as well as wife of the minister. 
 
 Fossie listened to the fine tones of a beautiful, new 
 piano with delight. She had not seen it before. Grand- 
 pa's room had been newly painted, papered, and fur- 
 nished with great care and taste by Winnie. Elida, 
 with her lesser means, but no less loving heart, had 
 placed a beautiful book-case in one corner, with a few 
 choice children's books upon it, and a picture of "After 
 the Xap " three lovely little girls over it. And 
 then other friends brought offerings to the child-mission- 
 ary. After the singing, Wallace and Susie led Fossie 
 to the instrument, where Lottie still played, and in- 
 quired, 
 
 " How do you like it?" 
 
 " 0, it is very nice," said the child, in her sweet, quiet 
 way ; " it sounds almost like heaven. Did you buy it, 
 Wallace?"
 
 444 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WO UK. 
 
 "Yes, little sister; Susie and I bought it for you, 
 darling." lie stooped and kissed her. 
 
 " Mine ! " said Fossie ; " why, I can't play, brother 
 Wallace. I think it is beautiful, though ! " And the 
 little white hands clasped instinctively. 
 
 " Well, you can learn," was the reply. " A little girl 
 with your patience and perseverance can learn to make 
 sweet music, I know ; and you have a pretty voice, too." 
 
 " You arc to be my scholar," said Susie, kissing her 
 tenderly ; " and by-and-by, when I can teach you no 
 more, Lottie will make a finished player of you." 
 
 " That will be nice ! " said the little girl. " I hope I 
 shall learn. And grandpa's room is very pretty isn't 
 it?" 
 
 " This is to be your room, darling," said Hester ; 
 "yours, dear, while you wish to stay in it; and may it 
 be long. Your father shall have grandpa's bedroom for 
 his own. You have brought that to your brother and 
 sisters to us all which money could not buy; and 
 it was fitting that we should do something for you. This 
 is one of the reasons why we consented to let her spend 
 the winter with you," she said to Abigail. " We wished 
 to surprise her ; and then our time has been so occupied 
 with fixing Elida's part of the house." 
 
 " Likely 's not you won't want to come to see us, 
 Fossie," she said, " now you've got such nice things." 
 
 " Yes, I shall, auntie. I like nice things, but I like 
 folks better : I shall come. And you and uncle Levi 
 must come and hear me play ' Yankee Doodle,' when I 
 learn it, and ' Star-spangled Banner ' won't you ? " 
 
 ' Why, yes, I guess we must. Good by, little 
 chick."
 
 CONCLUSION. 445 
 
 " I want to send something good to grandmother/' 
 whispered Fossie. 
 
 " You shall, dear/' said Hester; "and I will put up 
 some sweetmeats for uncle Simeon's children poor 
 dears ! Abigail, I wish you would bring your brother's 
 widow and her children down here some day. You must 
 all be lonely." 
 
 " Like enough I may," muttered Abigail. She had not 
 opened her heart enough yet to take Julia in, although 
 the children were gaining ground every day. They were 
 storming the castle bravely, encouraged by Fossie and 
 uncle. Lcvi. Did ever the children fail? No, not when 
 they had fair play. Reader, if you have a powerful im- 
 agination, you can get a better idea of the happiness of 
 the family whose father was lost and is found, dead and 
 is alive again, than I can give you. Grandpa Love-ring 1 
 rejoices with a great joy over the prodigal in his right 
 mind, as well as over the reformation of Mr. Giles. 
 
 " Elevia is as happy as the rest of my daughters," he 
 Bays, with a quiet smile, saddened by the thought that 
 Charles still sticks to his eleven and four o'clock drams, 
 in spite of their entreaties. His second marriage proves 
 a pleasant one. The little widow Payson spoke truly 
 when she said, 
 
 " I shall never be sorry, and I hope you won't." No, 
 he was not sorry. She was a treasure to him and his 
 family. They didn't mind the bustle : the real goodness 
 was there. They too were satisfied ; and she used to 
 say, " My cup runneth over." 
 
 Patient reader, a little mure, and I have done. It is 
 autumn ag.iin. The new house is finished. Wallace is 
 married. JJis father, much improved in health and
 
 446 HESTER STRONG'S LIKE WORK. 
 
 spirits, is busy in the store about such things as he can 
 do. He is calmly happy. Mr. Trueman's family re- 
 ceive him as a sacred trust from their daughter Winnie, 
 who lives in a distant village. 
 
 " We will do all for his happiness that you could, Win- 
 nie," they said, when she lamented leaving him, now 
 that he was found. 
 
 " I thank you," was the grateful reply. 
 
 " It ought to be happiness enough for me, I suppose, 
 to have him as he is ; but. we mortals are hard to please." 
 Let me tell you that Ann Thropee is still further revised, 
 so that you would hardly recognize her as the hard-facrd 
 woman she was. Well, she has been several times to 
 spend a few weeks with Winnie. " I s'pose I must go 
 and sec that young pickanin," she said, the first time she 
 went after Georgia's birth. " I wonder w'at I must buy 
 for 'im." 
 
 " A wheelbarrow," suggested Master Mason Eddie ; 
 " buy him a wheelbarrow." Ann laughed. 
 
 " Well, ducky, I s'pose I must. He'll be old 'nuff 
 to w'cel it some time. I wonder w'at them carts, sich as 
 rich folks cart their young ones in, cost ? " she contin- 
 ued to Elevia : " I mean the black, shiny ones, with tho 
 silver things un urn. Winn's good as the best on um. 
 I want 'er to 'avc one." 
 
 " They are quite expensive/' said Elevia, " but very 
 pretty and useful. One would last a great while with 
 Winnie's care. I will give something towards it." 
 
 " You won't, then," said Ann ; " if I can't pay for't, 
 she shan't 'ave it; that's all. ; 0w much be they? Can 
 ye tell?" 
 
 " 0, from ten to fifteen dollars."
 
 CONCLUSION. : 44 T 
 
 " Pooh ! " said Ann ; " that's cheap. I'll buy 'er 
 one, an' put the w'celbarrer inter it." 
 
 Mason Giles, with his justcr views of life, had com-' 
 pelled his father to do Ann partial justice, and she had 
 all the money she wished to spend now, with her habits 
 of personal economy. Elevia smiled complacently, as 
 she contrasted Ann with her former self, and thought 
 how successfully they had covered the skeleton in their 
 house with the mantle of charity, until it had become 
 something to love. 
 
 Ann was not faultless yet ; but she was being moulded, 
 slowly and surely, into the image of Him who is love 
 itself* She, and Mason, and Winnie, and Hester, and 
 all the Love-rings, had helped in the glorious work ; but 
 the little children in the house had done more than they 
 all. God bless the children, and finish their work in his 
 own good time. 
 
 One more call, and my work is done. Mehitable Sharp 
 Lentell still sits upon the soft, clean bed, with her Bible 
 in her palsied hand, straining the poor sunken eyes to 
 find something to atone for her one great sin, as she 
 says. 
 
 " Nabby, I'll go to heaven. I never wronged nobody, 
 I didn't. I've worked hard and been honest. Say, 
 Nabby, shan't I go to heaven ? " 
 
 " I hope so, marm. Fossie says Christ came to save 
 all who will repent. Can't ye repent, marm ? " screamed 
 Abigail. 
 
 " What is that you say, Nabby? Repent! I'd like 
 to know what for. 0, hum ! I'd never orter a married 
 him : he was my third cousin." 
 
 "0, dear ! " sighed Abigail. " Marm ! " she screamed,
 
 448 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 " don't harp upon that : they marry own cousins some- 
 times ; that's nothiu'. Think of things you've done 
 worse' n that sins against God and yer feller-men." 
 
 " You lie, Nabby ! " said the old lady, fiercely ; " you 
 lie ! I never sinned worse 'n that. What if I did put 
 in a teaspunful o' laudanum, instead o' ten drops. I 
 wanted him to sleep till the will was writ. That never 
 killed him." She paused, with a frightened look. " It 
 didn't kill him did it, Nabby? 0, hum! hum!" 
 rocking the witchy-looking body back and forth. Abi- 
 gail turned pale. Was she a murderer, then ? A feeling 
 of horror and disgust crept over her. She remembered 
 her kind, patient father his sudden, mysterious death. 
 She felt faint and dizzy, as she thought how her young 
 heart had been steeled against that father by her mother, 
 and she felt like shaking her by the arm in anger ; but 
 she thought of Fossie's injunction, of Jesus, and of God. 
 
 " Marm," she said, " there will be no rest for ye, here 
 nor hereafter, if ye don't repent." 
 
 "I tell ye," said the old lady, "I know I never 'd 
 orter married him ; but I can't help it now. Don't 
 bother ; I'll do well enough." With a pain at our heart, 
 we leave her muttering and mumbling over the Bible, 
 spelling out the words, as if her salvation depended upon 
 that. "0, hum!" we hear her say, as we departed, 
 " I'd never orter a married him, Nabby. But I'll go to 
 heaven for all that. It was only a spunful o' laudanum 
 I gin him; that didn't kill him, Nabby did it ? Say, 
 X;tbby." Abigail told Levi of this talk, and they both 
 shuddered, and looked steadfastly into the fire tha' 
 burned, and flickered, and flashed, and died ; and F J ' 
 they looked and thought. Levi broke the silcncf 
 saying, .
 
 CONCLUSION. 449 
 
 " She has been a terrible woman, Abigail, if she is 
 our mother ; and we were following in her steps" till Fos- 
 sie came, dear child." Another pause. 
 
 " Ye might as well out with it, Levi. I've seen how 
 it's been goin' between you an' Jule this long time," 
 said Abigail, with a forced laugh. " I shan't stand in 
 yer way this time." 
 
 " Shan't you, Abigail ? " said Levi, taking her hand as 
 he had never done in his life before. " Well, I am glad ; 
 Julia is good enough for me. Simeon loved her, and she 
 loved him as she will never love me. I can't expect it. 
 I had determined to marry her if I had to sell my half 
 of the place, and leave the state. Simeon's children 
 shall be my children. But if you will treat Julia kindly, 
 we can be happy here together. And, Abigail, Julia 
 would like to help take care of mother, if you will let 
 her." 
 
 " She needn't," said Abigail, tearfully ; " it's my busi- 
 ness to do that. Julie is good enough ; she'll do, Levi. 
 But half o' the property ought to go to Morgan. I 
 didn't think marm was so bad." 
 
 "It shall," said Levi; "I promise you it shall. 
 Come, go and tell Julia that she will do ; she will know 
 you mean a good deal by that. She always said that 
 you had a kind heart underneath." 
 
 "There is sin enough in it, "said Abigail, "if that's all." 
 
 She did go ; and now the children climb upon her 
 knees, and talk of their dead papa, and cousin Fossie, 
 and the kitten, and the new kite that uncle Levi has 
 promised them. And aunt Abigail makes twisted dough- 
 nuts, and round ones, and turnovers. And they pick up 
 the apples, and help her peel them, and pick the chips, 
 29
 
 450 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 and put on a stick of wood, and do a thousand little 
 things for her. And if she cannot bring her tongue to 
 say " dear " and " darling," she calls them pet names, 
 nevertheless, such as " ducky," and " kitty," and " bos- 
 sy," and she loves them well. And they, with child- 
 hood's generosity, return the love with interest t Julia 
 is happier than she ever thought it possible she could be 
 when the sad news came that Simeon had starved in 
 prison. 0, that was hard to bear ! Theirs is a happy 
 family now, only there is a living skeleton in it. 
 
 They talked the matter all over together, Levi, and 
 Julia, and Abigail, and finally the Noyes and Atwood 
 places were sold, and half of the stock, excepting one 
 horse, and old Rosy, Fossie's pet cow. They went one 
 clear, bright day, a happy company of them, as many as 
 could be stowed away in the covered wagon ; Abigail, 
 and Julia, and pet on the front seat, three children on 
 the back seat, and Levi on horseback, leading old Rosy, 
 the cow. Fossie clapped her tiny hands gleefully this 
 time, and Levi said she actually danced for joy. She is 
 looking rosier now that the great hope of her life is 
 realized. Hester, and Martha, and Elida were pleased 
 with Fossie's present from aunt Abigail ; for it was Fos- 
 sie's cow " to keep always," she told Albert. " And 
 you shall have nice new milk to make you strong 
 again." 
 
 " I'll drive you a load of hay, Fossie," said Levi, "to 
 feed her with this winter. And you will have to milk 
 won't you ? " he said, quizzically. 
 
 " Why, I don't believe I can," said the child, sadly. 
 
 " 0, you needn't," said Elida; " sister will milk. I 
 can learn, you know."
 
 CONCLUSION. 451 
 
 " And I can learn," said Martha. " I will see to the 
 cow till we can find a boy to adopt. We need one 
 don't we, Hester ? " 
 
 " Yes, Martha, I think we do. It will be nice to have 
 plenty of milk ; we are much obliged to you, I am sure." 
 And they all went out to the barn, so long unoccupied, 
 to admire old Rosy, which was only three years old, after 
 all, and a beautiful creature. 
 
 " It seems like old times," said Martha. " If there 
 is any creature I love, it is a cow." Morgan Lentell 
 wept when they handed him the purse, saying, 
 
 " Take it ; it is yours. We never realized how much 
 you had been wronged till recently. And this horse is 
 yours. You and Wallace will need it in your business. 
 I want to see your name on the sign, too. There is 
 money enough to enlarge your business. I am going to 
 trade here in the future; don't cheat me will you?" 
 said Levi, trying to laugh away the tears. Susie came 
 out to admire old Charlie a fine beast, fleet, strong, 
 and gentle, and only seven years old. She petted the 
 horse, and felt that she could gladly kiss her new uncle. 
 It was just what they wanted, she said, to complete 
 their happiness, which she thought was full before. 
 
 "I do believe we are the happiest people in the 
 world," she said, putting her arm through Wallace's. 
 
 " No, you are not," said Elida ; " we are ; Albert and 
 I are the happiest." Abigail, Julia, and Hester, Elida, 
 and Fossie, had come over to congratulate them and wit- 
 ness the surprise. 
 
 " We have got the prettiest cow in the world," said 
 Fossie, " and shall make lots of butter ; for uncle Levi 
 is going to bring some hay. And if she ever has a bossy,
 
 452 HESTER STRONG'S LIFE WORK. 
 
 like the one she had last winter, I shall give it to you and 
 Susie, Wallace, to pay for my piano ; and papa shall have 
 some milk." 
 
 " Bravo, little Fossie ! " said Abigail ; " you'll do, yet." 
 
 "And my little girl shall ride with father often," said 
 Mr. Lentell, with emotion. He was looking back ; he 
 was thinking of Harmony and the past. " that she 
 were here to enjoy our property! " he said, softly, to 
 Hester. 
 
 " She is far happier than we ; let that comfort you," 
 said Hester. 
 
 " that she were here, so that I could ask her to 
 forgive me ! " said Abigail, mournfully. " I believe an 
 evil spirit possessed me to treat her so. We have been 
 blind." 
 
 " I rejoice that you now see," said Hester. They re- 
 turned, and found Martha's tea waiting. Fossie played 
 " Yankee Doodle," and several other tunes. Levi said 
 it sounded pleasanter than mother's loom used to. He 
 would like to have one of the girls learn to play. 
 
 " Buy her something to play on," said Abigail, " and 
 I'll risk her learning." Levi and Abigail felt relieved, 
 now that their duty was performed. " We have never 
 felt right about things at home," they said to Hester, 
 " but had no idea Morgan had been so foully wronged. 
 Mother talks about her getting the writings made out 
 often now ; father had no hand in it, she says. I am 
 glad justice is done him at last, so far as we are con- 
 cerned." 
 
 " So am I," said Hester. " I respect you for the steps 
 you have taken ; you will be far happier. Let us be 
 friends in the future ; and may our Father in heaven 
 
 '
 
 CONCLUSION. 453 
 
 bless you, and lead you to a higher life and a better 
 hope." 
 
 \Vtillace hastened to connect his father in business 
 with himself. " It will strengthen and encourage him," 
 they all said. The Lovering farm has been somewhat 
 encroached upon by the steady march of New Eng- 
 land enterprise, and the quietness and romance of the 
 beautiful Merrimack, disturbed by the busy hum, and stir, 
 and commotion of a manufacturing city. But the old 
 farm-house has bravely stood the test. True, its exte- 
 rior has changed very much ; the poplar trees have 
 given place to shrubs and flowers of a more modern 
 date. " Old Tom," the family horse, has long since 
 gone to rest ; the cider-mill ceased its grinding. The 
 " river road " still abides in beauty ; but it is less cosy 
 and secluded than when Harmony and Morgan plighted 
 their troth beneath the willows. And now, as a pale, 
 sad man walks back and forth under the shadowing 
 trees at twilight, his eyes rest on the many lights 
 which gleam from the factory windows. But he is 
 thinking of the beautiful light which flashed *upon his 
 pathway in that very spot, and beamed so brightly upon 
 him for a few short years, and then went out in such 
 loneliness and neglect. " God, " he murmurs, " for- 
 give me ! I can never forgive myself."
 
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